#I love him and his stupid little neck string..fly away..things

[writeraid]

Look at him. look at this morally complicated skeleton bird man. look at him. Or 'Khonshu! Because why not!'. I've got some other Moon Knighty stuff I've been doodling tonight but they don't really fit in with eachother so I dunno if they'll all be up tonight but at least you get this.

[a-chuffed-floating-panda]

A love in the eye of the hurricane ch11 (unedited)

(Originally posted 11 July 2022. A fly kept distracting me, so maybe slightly better edited chapter)

Tashi sat in between Palden and Eastern  Sister Nyima when they found them, shaking after crying her eyes out.

Palden noticed them first, sending her a small smile and then made a surprised face when she saw she wasn’t alone.

Jamyang tugged at ama’s hand, urging her to come closer.

Aika squawked and patted ahead of them, jumping and making herself comfortable on Tashi’s lap.

Sister Nyima startled at the sight of the bird; she’s gonna have to refer to her classmate as ‘Sister’ when they get their arrows. Cool, loud and outspoken ‘Sister’ Nyima.

Awesome, she was already looking forward to it.

Aika crooned and poked at Tashi with her beak, Tashi nudged back with her head and eventually, three people and a bird were hugging each other.

Jamyang had never seen a bird hug someone back before. She’d heard of how eel-swans would hug someone back by laying their head around the humans neck, but Aika wasn’t that big yet nor did she have that long of a neck, so it ended up being this weird half hug where Aika rested her head partially around Tashi’s neck.

Jamyang plucked Assam up from her shoulder, cupped her fingers around him, and tugged at ama’s hand again.

Ama seemed hesitant, for some reason.

The rest of the birds were quiet as they followed them.  Quietly, they snuck up to them. Jamyang glanced over at ama in surprise when she saw that she walked in the same way Palden had taught her to sneak around with.

Stopping in front of them- Tashi and Sister Nyima still hadn’t noticed them- she held Assam out who immediately broke out into song.

Slowly, Tashi looked up from hugging into Aika’s feathers and onto them. Her eyes were puffier than she’d ever seen them.

But- and yes there’s a but, the corners of her mouth twitched when Assam did a silly dance of ruffling his feathers and shaking his tail.

It almost looked like he was serenading her, jumping out of her palm and hopping up her thigh in this weird way that looked like he was dragging his feet. Assam was belting his heart out and Tashi started giggling, letting him jump onto her finger and finish his song. She sniffed, rubbing a thumb over his wing. “You make interesting friends.” She tickled his side, making him let out a string of chirps that sounded oddly like giggles. 

Her brows scrunched up at the sound of her voice, it was so hoarse. How long had she been crying for?

Ama crouched down, putting a hand on Tashi’s knee. “Do you want a hug?” She asked. “I have long enough arms to hug everyone here.”

Tashi looked at both of them. “I-, yeah.” She nodded, setting Aika on Sister Nyima’s lap and Assam into Palden’s hands. “Yeah, I would like a hug.”

And ama had long enough arms to hug all of them, ama pulled Jamyang into her side, Aika rested her head over her shoulder and the rest of the birds huddled around them, chirping and crooning their support.

Jamyang felt stupid for doubting ama. She wished to have long arms like her so that she could give the best hugs when she got older.

In all honesty, Jamyang thought that Kokoro, one of Palden’s closest friends, was interesting.

Very cool too.

Making her presence at the temple known by bellowing out her friend’s name.

“PALDEN!” Said teenager jumped with a startled squeak and hid behind Tashi, ama and Sister Nyima- hmm, they were rather close now that she thought about it. “PALDEN WHERE ARE YOU!? HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME THESE NEWS???” 

The hoard of birds flew away, except for Assam, who stayed obediently by Tashi’s side, making himself comfortable in between the folds of her robe.

She heard a lot of swishing-probably rapidly jumping towers at a speed she knew only Jaya could manage- and the next thing she saw was Kokoro, or ‘Koko-chan’ as fondly nicknamed by Palden, burst into their little quiet corner of the temple with a murderous aura surrounding her and her red hair levitating behind her.

Terrifying and yet… so cool. She’d never seen someone ooze murderous intent like the monster Detective Kazuya had to fight in the fog in real life.

Jamyang sat opened mouthed on the floor by Tashi’s feet and with Aika in her lap, watching as a purplish chain was produced from Kokoro’s back, flew behind Tashi, ama and Sister Nyima and pulled a scared Palden out by her leg. “Umm.” Palden dangled upside down in front of them. “HeeeeeyKoko-chan-.”

“Don’t ‘hey koko-chan’ me!” Palden flinched at her yell. “Why did I have to find out from someone else that you took on an adorable student hmm?”

“… I’ve been busy doing stuff…?” Kokoro raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Stuff.” She folded her arms. “You’ve been busy doing ‘stuff?’”

“It’s a valid excuse this time-,”

“Oh really? Like that one time you sat and moped-,” Palden blushed with a mortified look on her face. “Shhhh! Okay, okay, I’ll tell you just let me down-,”

Kokoro didn’t let Palden down. Choosing to look at her, because Jamyang did for whatever reason decide to make her way over to them, ignoring ama’s quiet “Jamyang!” And evading Tashi’s and Sister Nyima’s grabbing hands.

Aika stayed put in her arms.

“Who are you brat?” Jamyang’s cheek puffed out at being addressed that way- she was not a brat. “How come I didn’t sense you?”

“I’m not a brat.” Kokoro looked humoured. 

“Caw!” 

“Oh really, then what are-,”

“I’m a kid, at best.” It surprised her that she wasn’t scared of whatever rebuttal that was about to come from Kokoro.

“I’m ahead by almost a year in my studies and I’ve moved on to advanced staff classes, and I’ve done it by myself with minimal to no help at all.” See? She wasn’t a brat, there. 

“Caw-caw!” That had to be in support for her argument.

The only reason she didn’t move classes was because she didn’t want to leave Jaya and her friends behind; And that in the stories she’d read, moving grades usually wasn’t a pleasant experience for the protagonist.

The teachers let her do what she wanted, as long as she could take part in class a little and get the homework done in time.

Kokoro made a face, a weird one. Jamyang had seen something similar when the Sisters would coo at the babies, but nothing like this. Her mouth pulled down and her eyes got really wide and shiny. 

“Koko-chan, no-,” Palden tried grabbing at her, only for the purplish chain to unwrap around her ankle, making her fall with a loud ‘oof!’

And like a grumpy bison that just got their hay, the mood switched. 

“You are just the cutest I’ve seen-,” She squished her cheeks and pulled both her and Aika into a hug- a strong hug- were she continued to coo at them both.

“Can I keep her?”

“Koko-chan her ama is right there.”

“I’ll be a good ani then-,”

“Koko-chan, that’s for her ama to decide.” Kokoro sagged her shoulders and pouted. 

“Since I already have a friend with controversial wisdom, then you’ll be the ani with controversial wisdom.” She said and patted her shoulder. 

“Squ-caw!” 

“Is that okay?” 

Palden burst out laughing, rolling on the floor. Sister Nyima giggled into her hand.

Tashi was smiling- good good- the puffiness was making it a little difficult for her, but she was smiling.

Ama looked… well, Jamyang didn’t know that look. It was difficult to read ama well.

Wariness? Exasperation? There was some amusement at Kokoro’s expense, the keyword being some. Maybe a state of Incredulity that Jamyang even said those words? 

“My wisdom is not controversial.” Jamyang blinked at her, Aika did too.

“But you’re like an older and more temperamental Jaya.” She reasoned. It sounded like Palden was choking by how hard she was laughing.

“Mostly wisdom you have to reflect over, and the rest is really good wisdom that you can use everywhere.” Sister Nyima covered her face with both hands and her shoulder shook as she laughed.

Tashi had leaned onto ama’s shoulder, chuckling quietly. Ama coughed into her sleeve with crinkled eyes.

“Ama is that okay?”

She held onto ama’s hand when they walked back; the others were a ways in front of them with Tashi being supported by Kokoro, Sister Nyima and Palden.

“Are you learning how to fight Jamyang?” Ama’s voice was soft as she asked the question. 

“….”

“I won’t be angry if you say yes.”

“I… yes. Yes, I’m learning how to fight, but it’s just the staff, so it’s nothing to worry about.” Ama was quiet for a bit. “Do you want to learn anything else?”

“….” 

“Jamyang.”

“The jian and hand to hand combat.” Ama was quiet again.

��Pick up medicine and learn how to heal.” That was not what she expected her to say. “If you’re learning how to fight, then you’re going to learn how to take care of yourself and the others around you.”

“You’re not upset with me?”

“Why would I be?”

“You know… for breaking the number one rule I wasn’t supposed to break.”

Ama sighed, and her lips twitched. “Well, if we’re speaking like that, I’ve broken that rule before. I still sort of am breaking that rule.”

Jamyang looked up at her with a gasp, ama didn’t look like someone that would do that. Well, to be honest, Sister Jetsun and Sister Tsering didn’t look like someone who would do that either.

Ama met her stare, smiled and twirled something small and needle-like in between her fingers that emitted a silver sheen in Agni’s rays with her free hand.

“Learning how to fight is never wrong, but you must be prepared for the consequences your actions may have and know how to make up for them, and know that some people,” Ama’s face took a sad turn. “regardless of how much you try, may never forgive you.” To Jamyang, it sounded like ama spoke from experience.

“So you’re going to learn how to take care of yourself, okay?” 

Jamyang followed the smooth movements of the needle-like object that twirled in between her fingers in awe. 

A part of her wondered if ama was the masked bounty hunter from ‘The stories of a shinobi’ she’d recently finished reading; she fit the physical descriptions and they hinted to the masked bounty hunter being a woman.

“Okay…” was her meek reply

The needle-like object disappeared up ama’s sleeve.

“How are you doing so far?” Jamyang kicked a small pebble. “Okay, I think. I’m not really good at fighting, but I have the advanced staff classes and unconventional descriptions from the books I’ve read to fall back on.” 

“Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah, and sometimes I do moves I’ve seen others do. Palden’s surprised by the accuracy I can recreate them.”

“Have you landed a hit on her?”

“Yeah, but she isn’t going all out. It wouldn’t make a difference if she did, my face still gets beaten into the dirt every time.” Ama made a huffing sound. “but she keeps herself at a level where I can with confidence land a hit on her. And then she immediately hits me back.” Palden’s all out blows hurt a lot, she would admit that, but they only inspired her to try and land another hit on her.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Ama’s brows furrowed.

“It does.” She admitted. “But I’m too stubborn to give into that.” Ama made a weird cough huff-like sound, Jamyang looked up at her inquisitively. 

Hmm, why was ama smiling behind her hand?

Yara did indeed cry when she figured out who their ama was.

She didn’t want to go with her at first, having fun with some students when she first came running, but she quickly relented when she told her the reason why it was so important that she’d come with her.

“But Jamyang!”

“But Yara!” She’d mocked back, making her twin fold her arms and pout.

“What’s so important that I have to go with you?” “It’s ama!” She yelled and threw her arms to her sides. “It’s ama, that’s why it’s so important for you to come!” Yara’s expression fell into disbelief and she’d taken advantage of it. Stomping up to her, grabbing her hand and pulling her with her.

Yara tripped over her feet due to how abrupt she’d grabbed her.

“Ama’s- ama is- ama is here?” 

“Yes Yara, ama is here.”

Yara had zoomed into ama’s arms the moment she’d first laid eyes on her and burrowed herself into her side and started sobbing.

Jamyang followed her example at a much calmer pace and burrowed herself in ama’s other side, and rejoiced because ama was here. 

“W-why didn’t you come sooner?” Ama crouched down and wiped her tears away with the back of her sleeve. “I’m sorry.” She said, and she did look sorry. “I got sick and then apa got sick too, he only recently got better.”

“So you’ve been taking care of him then?” Yara sniffed and ama nodded, there’s something else in her expression too, Jamyang cursed herself for being young sometimes; she noticed a lot of things, but couldn’t understand them. Or maybe she understood them, but it was ama that she didn’t understand? 

“Yeah, I have.” Ama brushed some of Yara’s loose strands behind her ear. “He should be fit to travel sometime next year.”

“I hope that some of the gifts I sent were okay, I know that it doesn’t make up for my absence-,” They threw their arms around her shoulders. 

“It’s okay ama! We loved them!”

They would always send an enthusiastic letter to the other sibling about whatever gift Sister Tsering or Sister Zopa had given them without prompting.

Gawa had stared at her ama with furrowed brows when she first saw her coming towards them. “Have I met you before?” There was recognition in ama’s smile. “Are you Gawa?”

“Yeah?”

“I cared for you for a couple of months when you were a baby.” Jamyang and Yara looked up at her in surprise. “Your ama and I are pen pals, I have visited a couple of times. I’m rather fond of her thangka paintings.”

Gawa was quiet for a bit as she continued to stare at ama. “Are you Yutso?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Jamyang looked up at ama, her name meant turquoise lake, but there wasn’t anything blue with her at all! Except the arrow, but that didn’t count. 

Ama met her gaze. “Sister-I guess it’s Elder now, Sonam said I was as calm as an untouched lake when I was a child. Hence my name.”

The name fit, ama was very calm. 

Even calmer than her.

Jamyang wondered if it was difficult to read her because of her calmness. A lot of things could be going on underneath a calm lake, and you wouldn’t know until you dipped your hand in.

Jamyang leaned into her ama’s side, finding comfort in how her arm tightened around her.

“Do you want to come to the story and song circle? Monk Danan and Monk Fang are hosting it, everyone’s invited.”

“What’s a story and song circle?” Yara asked before she could.

“Well.” Gawa rocked back on her feet. “It’s in the name, really. A lot people come together around a small bonfire, sing and tell stories.” 

Yara perked up. “Ooh sounds fun!” 

Jamyang was interested in the ‘stories’ part.

She looked up at ama to see her smiling softly at Gawa’s invitation; she looked down at them.

“Do you want to go?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah.”

Monk Danan gasped comically when he saw them- Monk Fang gave him the biggest eyebrow raise- and greeted them. 

“Oh, lord Buddha and vayu!” He held his hands in front of his mouth. “Jizo spirit 1, Jizo spirit 2 and the tiny firecracker!” Gawa chuckled beside her.

“And the little storm too, awww.” Gawa’s chuckles stopped abruptly, and Jamyang looked at her, curious about the nickname.

“Come, come sit, sit.”

There were people in the circle that greeted ama with familiarity, many of them had the saffron socks she saw when she first greeted them almost… almost two weeks ago now?

Wow, time had gone by very quickly, an ‘interesting week’ just like Abbot Dorji had said.

Ama hummed along with the tunes that people would sing, while they were completely unfamiliar to her, it was nice to listen to.

She hadn’t seen Yara this calm in… ever, actually. 

Gawa grabbed her hand and leaned against her shoulder, and Jamyang intertwined their fingers. 

She didn’t know what attributed to her sudden calmness at times, but… it was nice.

Ama’s hand had receded to the small of her back, giving her more freedom to move.

She leaned her head against hers, enjoying the lull of Monk Danan’s voice as he told the story of the lovers’ pass. A mountain cliff in the deep forests of Mt. Agari where one person deliberately falls and the other one jumps after to catch them and holds them until they fall into the open lake below.

Every airbender there has or will go through that in their life.

A rite of lovers or extremely close friends.

If lovers go through it, then it’s seen as marriage and if it’s close friends, then their bond is deeper than ordinary friendships.

“The site is sacred, repelling demons and evil spirits and blesses every individual who goes through with the rite or goes on a pilgrimage there.” Monk Danan said.

“Is Dorjee and Kunsang’s love that strong?” A child in awe asked.

“Yup.” Monk Danan nodded. “Their love will last for countless kalpas to come.”

Jamyang thought of Monk Feng and Sister Dohna, who sat in the circle with them. Monk Feng with his big muscles, who held Sister Dohna so tenderly.

Would they go through the rite?

Had Sister Tsering and Hayma gone through with the rite?

Had Sister Jetsun and Amanthi gone through with the rite?

Would, if it went ideally, Choda and Tashi go through with the rite?

… Would she go through with the rite?

She squeezed Gawa’s hand, shifting the position of her head to be more comfortable. Monk Danan was a wonderful storyteller, she could fall asleep to his voice. Not in a bad way of course. A good way.

“Dorjee gave Kunsang an orb in the colour of her eyes as a symbol of his love for her….”

While getting lulled into sleep by Monk Danan’s voice, she felt Gawa squeeze back.

Jannu cuddled close to her that night and came with her when she snuck out.

His clinginess was unusual, curling up into a ball on her shoulder refusing to let go.

Jamyang was more confident in using the teleportation technique and with her glider in hand just in case, she attempted the technique, only to end up free falling into the canyon. 

That was a major undershoot, she hurried readying her glider, biting her lip to stifle any sound when a big shuriken- Anzan said that those were Fuma shuriken- flew straight over her head, only a hair strand width away.

The whiff of it spinning right above her head was an unusual sensation to feel. Scary too.

“Om mani padme hum.” She sighed, grateful that her head didn’t get cut off. “Om Vayave namaha.” She recited, grateful to have been born with the ability to bend air.

This whole situation would’ve ended differently had she not been born with it.

Palden was waiting for her, sitting in a meditative position instead of going through forms like she’d normally seen her do.

“What happened?” She asked after she landed. “I tried to teleport, but majorly undershot and ended up falling down into the canyon and dodged a fuma shuriken with a hair length width. So.” Jamyang sat down in front of her, also assuming a meditative position. 

“I’m doing great, just great.”

Palden chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve done that before. It takes a bit before you can calculate the distances correctly.”

“What are we doing today?”

“We’re creating a new style by incorporating the beginner and advanced forms into something smooth and beautiful. And I thought we could do some conditioning too.”

“No sparring?”

Palden smiled, amused by her eagerness. “…. there will be some sparring, yes.”

Jamyang got her face beaten in, the story wasn’t new. But! She fractured Palden’s rib somehow; it was a small one, but she still managed it. Palden treated her wounds and healed her own and they together went into the forest to heal Gawa and Anzan’s wounds.

Anzan had grinned at her when he saw the odd marks on Palden’s face and blue area on her cheekbone.

He’d elbowed her. “You got her good, huh?” Jamyang scratched at the back of her neck, unsure of how to respond. 

“I think so, yeah.”

Jannu quacked loudly at that.

Jamyang tried her best not to think that the last day of the festival was coming up.

She ignored the dull pain on the different parts of her body from last night training with Palden and the sinking feeling in her stomach that just seemed to get deeper and deeper as the day progressed.

She didn’t look forward to her friends going back home.

She cherished the moments with her classmates and the friends she’d made- with a lot of Jaya’s help- when they went to collect firewood for the big bonfire.

It felt silly to get all emotional over something like this. This was something Jaya would do. Jamyang had never gotten this emotional over something before.

“Jamyang?” Sister Tsering had noticed her dampened mood, joining her by the big temple steps. “Are you okay?” 

She stopped moping and looked up at her, Sister Tsering grew her hair out longer in the front, but not like Sister Gyalwo who grew it completely out.

“I’m just sad that the festival’s ending.” She answered, kicking her feet. “I don’t want the friends I made to leave.” Jamyang leaned into her side, letting Sister Tsering wrap her arms around her. 

“You’ll see them again next year-,”

“That’s such a long wait.” 

“But since they’re your friends, maybe they’ll invite you and Jaya to come to their festivals as well?” She rested her chin on top of her head. “Maybe they’ll invite you just to visit too?”

“Hmm, that does sound like fun.” She closed her eyes, trying to imagine all the descriptions she’d gotten of the different temple: the red beaches around Mt. Agari, the calm see through oceans around Opame’s temple and the dense lush forests surrounding Wat tham suea.

“Do you think the elders would allow me to visit?”

“You don’t need their permission if you want to visit your friends Jamyang, you need mine.” Jamyang was quiet, wondering what Sister Tsering had done to achieve that, it wasn’t like that before. Before she needed the elders’ permission and Sister Tsering’s.

“And you have my permission to travel to your friends and tell me, so I know where you are. Just remember your studies and sutra readings.” Another reason why Sister Tsering was one of her favourite people in the world.

“Do you miss Hayma when she leaves?” She asked randomly, curious to see if someone else was feeling the sadness that she was feeling.

“Of course I do.” The answer was immediate. “I miss her a lot after she leaves.” 

“So it’s normal then?” Sister Tsering nodded against the crown of her head. “Yes, it’s normal to miss the people you care about when they’re leaving.”

“Oh… okay.” There’s a first time for everything then.

“Have you and Hayma gone through the lovers’ pass?” There was something, a tone if what not, in Sister Tsering’s chuckle that just said ‘I got ya!’, she heard it in Jaya’s voice strangely enough. Monk Taiki had something similar, although more of a giggle than a chuckle. 

“We have.” There’s fondness in her voice.

“What was it like?” Jamyang couldn’t help her curiosity, having found Monk Danan’s descriptions too good to be true.

“It’s an unique experience to every individual-,”

“But tell me about yours!” Sister Tsering laughed.

“Okay, okay….”

Agni was setting in the west and everyone collected themselves out on the plaza, surrounding an enormous pile of branches- soon to be bonfire.

Gawa, Izumi and Bankei volunteered to light it together; Izumi had questioned it at first, but when Gawa proceeded to, very nonchalantly, pick up the flame hovering over her palm, flare it, hand it to Bankei who also flared it and used it to form a heart in the air.

She stared openmouthed at them, too shocked to question them.

Izumi took a firebending stance while Bankei and Gawa formed odd looking mudras with their hands. 

She knew they weren’t mudras, but it was the closest thing she could compare the odd hand signs too.

At the Elders’ nod, fire from all three of them shot towards the wood- Gawa’s and Bankei’s chests got alarmingly big while they blew their fires-, the fire exploding up into the air at impact on the wood. 

Jamyang remembered nothing like this from last year’s smoke festival, she was too busy reading then. Curse her past self for missing out on a sight so beautiful.

The wood cracked and popped as the fire burned. 

She never knew a bonfire could be this beautiful to look at. Very relaxing too. And it was supposed to drive away evil spirits, a major plus in her book.

Shapes of bison came flying towards the plaza, some adults had gone and invited people from the nearby villages.

“IZUMI!” A woman yelled from Sister Tsering’s bison. Izumi squeaked and ran off, pulling Takumi, Michiko and Oshima with her into the crowd of monks and nuns.

“YOU WENT TO THE TEMPLE ALL ON YOUR OWN?! YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE FOR LYING TO ME YOUNG LADY!” 

Ama looked bemused when a petite woman came blazing- in a manner very much similar to Kokoro- towards the crowd. 

“What happened?”

“Izumi dragged her friends with her right after sending a letter asking if they could come.” Jamyang answered. “She said that she couldn’t wait and risked it, taking her friends with her so that they could see it too.”’

“Impatience then?”

“Mhm.” She nodded. “It had happened with Shaohao, too.”

“Prince Shaohao?” 

“He got his uncle to prepare his dragon and went flying right after his father had sent a hawk warning the Sisters of his arrival. He ended up arriving thirty minutes earlier than his father’s hawk.”

Ama tsked, with a soft laugh following soon after.

Michiko’s uncle stopped by some earth kingdom civilians with the most sheepish grin Jamyang had seen him with. A stoic looking woman followed him. She had to be Oshima’s mother. They had the same face.

In between people talking, a respectful distance behind them, she spotted Sister Jetsun holding onto Amanthi tightly as her fists clenched, with a desperation she’d never seen before, into the back of her robes.

“- -I’m here, I’m here- -,”

“- -Fire- -there’s- -there’s fire.”

“It won’t hurt you- -,”

Jamyang watched quietly, knowing well that she wasn’t supposed to see this, something so personal.

It reminded of the chapter from Ayako’s point of view, of how she had to hold Detective Kazuya after each nightmare, not to say anything when he’d screamed the times he didn’t recognise himself in the mirror after fighting the monster in the fog. How she wished she could hug him and protect him, cover his body with hers so that nothing could hurt him anymore. 

Was that how Sister Jetsun felt?

Ayako had described a feeling of uselessness, feeling an unbearable pain deep, deep within her soul whenever he was in pain that she would cry into the crown of his head at night, whispering prayers to Agni that her lover would heal.

Sister Jetsun wept silently into the crown of Amanthi’s head, her hands fisting into her robes so that they wouldn’t fall over, whispering repeatedly that ‘you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay, I’m here, I’m here I promise, I’ll protect you.’

Jamyang looked away. She would’ve made herself cry if she continued watching.

“Jamyang!” Yara came running up to her, face flushed and panting from whatever activity she’d been doing.

“Come join us!” Looking up, she saw her classmates balancing on thin and surprisingly strong wire.

“Isn’t that like… dangerous?”

Yara only laughed and pulled her with her, waving at ama with a big grin. 

“We’re airbenders! We’ll catch ourselves and others who’ll fall! The goal is to create a small dance over to the other side.”

While high upon the wire, she saw Tashi in a tight cluster of people hugging Aika on her lap. Palden, Kokoro and Sister Nyima were nearby for support. It looked like she’d boxed herself in on purpose so that Choda couldn’t approach her, going by the multiple longing almost looks that she’d seen her send her direction in the last five minutes.

“Have you done this before?” Gawa walked up to her from the other side of the wire with a confidence she envied.

“No, I haven’t.” Her feet wobbled on the wire.

“I’ll show you.” Gawa reached out with both hands and a big smile.

Feeling herself smile back, Jamyang grabbed her hands and let Gawa show her how to do this.

Aden had later commented that their dance was the best dance he’d seen performed on a wire.

Jamyang would fully admit to doing this-

She was too sad that night and wasn’t able to sleep for her usual hours before sneaking out.

And she worried over whether the gift that she prepared for Gawa was okay. She’d listen to every Anzan had listed off and tried to find something and make something that fit the list.

Palden noticed, of course, in her meditative position as soon as she landed from flying over here.

“Did you sleep?” She asked, not opening her eyes.

“No.” Niji and Dal had gotten annoyed at how much she kept turning. “I tried, but I couldn’t.” Another first for her on this day.

Palden opened her eyes, her ice-blue eyes filled with concern as she looked at her. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing too big. I’m just experiencing the sadness that my friends are about to leave soon.”

Palden was quiet for a couple of seconds. Jamyang only looked up when she heard rustling.

In Palden’s hands was a rice ball and a cup of tea. “Here.” Jamyang grabbed both, putting the cup of tea down so that she could munch on the rice ball. “We don’t have to have our lesson today if you don’t want to.”

“I still want to have our lesson. I just want to do something different today. If that’s okay.”

Palden smiled. “Of course.” Jamyang sipped her tea, cold brewed jasmine tea. Wasn’t her first thought, Palden seemed more like someone who’d enjoy gray teas.

“Do you want to hear about the time Koko-chan broke my arm because I wouldn’t stop moping over something?”

The abruptness of the question pulled a startled laugh out of Jamyang.

“Of course, tell me everything.”

Jamyang stood feet away from the temple doors, unable to move. If she went outside, she would see packed bison and people ready to leave. 

If she was here, then she wouldn’t have to see that, but that meant not saying goodbye either.

With her index and thumb, she held onto the strings of the small bag she’d carefully placed her gifts into early this morning.

It wasn’t anything special. 

She’d snuck away to the nearby earth kingdom village after noting everything Anzan had said and commissioned small, specific, charms from a man who’d promised to get it done by the next day. She’d then used some of those charms as counters on one of the threngwas she’d threaded. 

She ended up threading two threngwa’s, one for the wrist and one for the neck. There was red and this special navy blue on each of them, the colours that Anzan said were her favourite.

And she’d painted a small card with her favourite place on it, the grassy fields by the Chenrezig forest with Agni setting in the west and she’d added the brown curly roots of the favourite tree she reads at.

Not anything special. She was decent at arts, having had to draw and paint stories to Yara’s homework so that she’d understand the material she was learning in the past. That was nothing to compare to Gawa who came from an artistic family. Who was to say that she would keep her gift?

Jaya grabbed her hand, pulling her outside before she could chicken out.

“I don’t want to do this either, okay?” She turned to her, visibly sharing a lot of what she was feeling. “I don’t want to see them leave, but we’re going to say our goodbyes when we still can.”

Jamyang wanted to be selfish for the first time in her life. Wanted to be really selfish and hold on to every friend she’d made and not let them go back to their temples.

That was silly. She didn’t own them so she couldn’t do that.

Opame looked pretty with her braids. Izumi had apparently done them while at breakfast to hide from her mother. Opame and a bunch of her friends overwhelmed her and Jaya with hugs.

Opame hugged her. “The mask festival is coming up and I’ve spoken to Abbess Bennu. You and your friends may come if you want to.” Jamyang had absolutely no idea what that was, never having heard of such a festival before, but yes. Yes, she wanted to go.

“Of course I’ll come! When is it?”

“During the last week of next month, but come a couple of days earlier, okay? I want to give you all a tour.”

Jaya pulled her with her as they continued to say their goodbyes to the people they’ve befriended. All of them promising to send letters and keep in touch.

They came to a stop by the bison with the monks and nuns going back to Mt. Agari.

Jaya had run off to say bye to little Tsewang, a small child with stubby legs who ran into her friend’s arms the moment she saw her running towards her.

It didn’t take long for Jamyang to find who she was looking for. 

Gawa was teary-eyed as she stood in front of her, there was a familiar sting in her eyes as well.

Gawa pulled her down for a hug that left her breathless. “I don’t want to leave.” Jamyang had to bend down a little to pull her close, holding her tightly when she heard those words. 

“I don’t want you to leave either.”

No more cuddly pandas while she read, no Aika, no listening to each other’s silly and weird stories as Gawa tried to teach manners to Jaya and Sister Gyalwo’s lemurs, no sneaking around with her and teasing the older couples, no bandaging up hands that had no business being as bruised as they were….

No Gawa.

That was just sad.

Gawa sniffed into her shoulder. “I’ll show you the druk nest I found if you come visit me.”

“What are you talking about?” Jamyang pulled back, rubbing at her eyes, trying to appear as serious as she could be. “The druk isn’t real.” It was a legend, everyone knew that. 

As a semi-resident at the great library, having read both good and bad stories based on druk legends, she knew it was legend. 

Gawa’s eyes were shiny as she smiled. “But I found them!” She insisted through a whisper so that those around them wouldn’t hear. “The eggs are gold and gray, just like the legends say. And the mother druk is-,” She did this weird hand gesture that Jamyang learned meant ‘so super, super duper awesome and cool!’ Or any other synonym for that, if there was an equivalent.

“I haven’t told anybody about this, not even Anzan or Aden knows. Just you.”

An unknown feeling swelled up in Jamyang’s chest at those words. She was the first to know? She could’ve told anyone else, but Gawa chose her? 

A quiet sob tore its way out of her chest, and she pulled her in for another hug.

“Okay.” Jamyang nodded against the crown of her head. “I’ll visit you very soon, okay?”

It didn’t matter if she knew the druk wasn’t real; she was coming to visit to see this druk look alike, possible dragon descendant. 

“U-um.” Jamyang pulled back, hastily drying her tears with her sleeve. “Here.” She shoved the small bag containing her gifts into her hands. “What’s this?” Gawa’s voice was quiet as she stared at the small bag.

“Your birthday gift.” Jamyang answered, feeling oddly nervous all of a sudden. She’d never gifted something to someone before.

“Amanthi said that your birthday is this month, so I got you something.”

“I-,” Gawa’s voice cracked as her lone finger toyed with the strings.

“Don’t open it until you get back home.” She looked off to the side. “I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself if I see that you don’t like my gift.”

Gawa leveled her with a look that she didn’t know what meant, gave her one final, special hug that left her breathless and sent tiny sparks across her skin.

“I’ll see you soon?” She pulled back, clutching the gift bag in her hands. 

Jamyang nodded, forcing back her tears. “Yeah, you’ll see me soon.”

Gawa backed away from her, dragging her feet and twirled on top of Kumbha the sleepy bison, waving at her- all the children in that saddle waved at her- when they took off.

Jamyang waved back, staying at the plaza until she couldn’t see them anymore.

A hand touched her shoulder after a while. “Jamyang?” She turned to see Yara, looking a lot more composed, but still quite emotional.

“Are you okay?” How was it that Yara was so composed when she somehow befriended everyone, and all of them were leaving?

“No. No, I’m not okay.”

“… do you want a hug?” That sounded nice.

“Yeah, I would like that.”

Notes:

AHHHHH, and we're here! 'Last' chapter (not really) of the kiddies being kiddies. This is not beta read, but its now prowriting aid read  Tashi is avoiding Choda, taking comfort in hugging fire breathing birds over humans, and Jamyang deals with her feelings. Who exactly is Yutso, Jamyang and Yara's mother?  I was unsure if I should've tagged it as crossover in the begging, since most of the other stuff are just winked at or have been mentioned to be existing, but aren't actually important yet. So I'm just going with a fusion for now. Can you guess which fandoms? This is now a part of a series, the next work is Tsering's back story! That work won't have regular updates like this one. Words: threngwa: mala Ani: Aunt, or a way to address a nun Kalpas: a duration of time equivalent to an 'aeon' Mudra: a symbolic or ritual gesture or pose in Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhisma A counter: A literal counter, often used to keep count of how many times you've recited a mantra A druk: a thunder in Bhutanese and Tibetan mythology, it isn't just 'a' thunder dragon in this though, this will be explored later

[s0dium]

Did you say puppy boy yuuta?? Oh my gosh, just imagine him in his rut. I mean, he already has an insatiable stamina and his breeding kink on normal days but it just worsens to tenfold on his rut.

He probably won't even care about you. Fucking you until you pass out and the only thing in his mind is to fuck you full of his cum and make you carry his babies.

Puppy boy

A/n: FUCK I LITERALLY- I think about this when im alone if you know what I mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I might have gotten a little carried away please more of these nasty thirsts y'all r killing me

Warnings: Hybrid!Yuuta, breeding kink, dry humping, knotting, no prep and big dick yuuta

Yutas eyes were dark, completely blown out with lust as he dragged his clothed crotch up and down your leg.

"Y-yuu? Everything ok?" This position was all too familiar, your puppy asking you to care for his insatiable needs. But something about it seems different, from the way he hotly pants on the skin of your neck to how his ears twitch and his canines seem bigger, sharper.

You let out a sweet moan that is sent straight to his hefty cock when he begins to suck and lick at your skin. "Please, m'wanna mate" he mumbles into the nape of your neck, sharp canines crazing over the thumping spot that is your heart. "M'wanna give you my pups, make you a momma and breed you again and again" You thickly gulp at his words. Your usually used to moments like these, where he relentlessly humps any part of your body, without a care if in public or not, until hes spoiling his pants. Buts its rare he ever mentions breeding which can only mean one thing; your puppy was in heat. And being the good owner you were, how could you deny your pet when he needed you the most?

"S'ok puppy, go ahead" Big mistake. Because the moment you give the ok, it becomes a never ending cycle. One where he pumps you full of cum after hours of fucking, gives you big glassy eyes and begs to go again only for the process to repeat and your left unable to move.

"Thank you thank you to much" He mumbles, peppering kisses along your neck while his hands get to work pulling down those cute short pajama pants. He almost tears your frilly white panties but restrains himself, opting to take them off as well. You squeal when you feel two fingers glide along your slit to collect your sticky juices, only to be put in his mouth; Yuutas eyes closing as he tastes your juices.

"Taste so so good" He groans, pulling out his flushed cock and using the saliva and juices to help wet him.

There is no warning when he completely bottoms out inside of you, walls throbbing as he seems to get bigger with every inch slipping into your quivering hole. He whines at how warm you are, its nothing like his fist or that stupid fleshlight you got him for when your away.

"S-so warm n'tight"he whines into your mouth and presses his own messy kisses into your squealing mouth. His pelvic bone rubs on your clit as he jackhammers into you, the base of his cock swelling and stretching your gummy walls wide.

"M'love you, love you so much, wanna make you a momma, give you my pups!" He's babbling now, lips hungrily sucking your nipples like milk was going to cum out. The sheer collision of his tip against your cervix as he slammed into you was making your brain go numb. Just when you dont think you can cum again, he rips another one out of you and god does it feel amazing. Its like your flying in euphoria as thousands of flesh arrows send pleasure across your body.

Yuutas soft floopy ears suddenly peak up to a point and his tail starts to wag violently. “m’ gonna cum- bunny m’gonna cum inside.” he cuts of with a squeal of his own, shooting thick white ropes of his cum into your swollen n wanting womb. He kept cumming inside of you, strings and strings of hot cum filling you up as he held you in his arms. It made your body shake, his load weighing at your stomach like it was forming a bulge with how much there was. “gonna look so pretty with my puppies” his tail twitches at his own words, mind going foggy at the thought of you round and swollen with his children.

[yuujilogy]

trouble (gojo satoru x reader)

REQUEST:  what do you think about fem reader and gojou sensei having a secret relationship like they’d be sneaking late at night to fuck or smth but they have to keep quiet or else the other students will hear esp with them thin ass walls

| PAIRINGS:  satoru gojo x fem!reader

| WARNINGS: smut, explicit, little bit of degradation, little bit of cum play, breeding kink if you squint, exhibitionism, rough, unportected (be safe), grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: 2,745

A/N: OH FAWWK YEA  some gojo spice to make things more interesting!! kinda went off with this one bc c’mon, we all know gojo is freaky and sexy in bed 😳 anyway i hope this is what you expected !! enjoy !!  ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

Satoru pulled you inside of his room as soon as he opened the door after knocking just once. It was almost as if he couldn’t wait anymore, capturing your lips in a feral kiss as he pushed your back against the door to close it, you both moaning into each other’s mouth as his hand groped your ass to press you against him.

It’s not like you minded these kinds of escapades with rough sessions, where Satoru just threw you over the edge over and over again, showing his stamina off and fucking you stupid.

But right now, you were at the dorms of the Tokyo facility at midnight, where the other students and teacher were probably already sleeping soundly not that far from here. When he called you to this room, you thought he wouldn’t actually take the risk of taking you to bed, considering your relationship was still being kept a secret from your professional lives for two reasons: you were both teachers, and the heads above were just assholes who wouldn’t let Satoru−or you−hear the end of this.

Well, turns out this man is still full of surprises even after two years of dating, revealing at least one to you almost every day.

“S-Satoru…” you said between kisses, your hands flying to his hair that was already styled down due to the absence of his blindfold. He pulled away and looked down at you, smirking. Oh, he knew what was coming. “W-We are at the school right now, Gojo. What if they hear?” Your cheeks were already heating up, flustered by the surprising, wet kiss.

Satoru limited himself to let out a low laugh, his free hand caressing your cheek with slender cold fingers before travelling to the side of your neck. You could barely see the brightness of his blue eyes thanks to the moonlight coming through the windows.

“And what about it?” Satoru said indifferently, the hand previously on your ass making its way to your hip, too slowly it was sending chills down your spine. “You scared everyone will hear how I make this pussy mine the whole night?” his hand cupped your centre, making you jump and gasp. “I can already feel how wet you are just from some sloppy kissing, baby. I wonder if I could just slip my cock inside.”

God, you hated to admit it but he was so right. Satoru was always right and knew the right buttons to push at the right moment. You couldn’t help the grinding of your hips against his hand, already throbbing and clenching around nothing, in need of relief. Your hands grabbed the frame of his shoulders, moaning softly as you tried reaching for his lips once again. Yet he didn’t give you the chance to get what you wanted, pulling farther apart from your face. You complained with a huff, frowning, and he kissed your forehead.

“You’re so whiny tonight, baby. Better keep quiet.” He started making his way towards the bed with you, making you fall over your back, positioning himself on top of you. “Because I sure won’t hold back with you this time.”

With ease, he unbuttoned your jeans with one hand before pulling them down along with your panties. Both of his hands gripped your thighs, opening your legs to feel the chill weather hit your centre, feeling way too exposed. You were so sensitive already for some reason, you had to cover your mouth with your own hand when his fingers started rubbing your clit softly, your hips starting to move involuntarily trying to meet his movements.

You don’t know if it’s the fact you must stay quiet regardless of his sweet torture, or if it was the way he overpowered you so easily, but you were so turned on right now.

“So fucking wet already” Satoru groaned under his breath, more to himself than to you, the friction coming to a stop. Uncovering your hand to complain, you couldn’t help but let out a loud moan when two of his fingers entered your warm core. Talk about timing. The sting of being stretched open feeling so good, arching your back as you bit your lip harshly. He knew your body so well and the fact you liked a little bit of pain from time to time. He chuckled. “You’re such a wet mess, Y/N. This dirty pussy is swallowing my fingers so easily.” Satoru brought his face to the exposed skin in your neck to start sucking softly at your sweet spot behind your ear.

It was too much. The risk, Satoru’s fingers and demeanour, and just overall the situation. All of that was making you feel so aware and sensitive, making it harder to control your whimpers.

“F-Fuck, ‘toru. I need-“ your words were interrupted by his fingers increasing their pace and going deeper, hitting the perfect spot inside of you, and, before you could make another sound, Satoru kissed you roughly, swallowing every single noise. He could feel the way you were tightening around his fingers, letting out small cries, and smiled against your lips before pulling away with a string of saliva between you.

“You naughty slut,” his fingers left your insides, looking at his fingers covered with your slick and then back at you. “You thought you were going to cum with only two fingers, didn’t you?” he guided them towards your mouth, which you gladly accepted by sucking them, tasting yourself, without breaking eye contact with him. “Are you that desperate of letting everyone know who makes you feel this good?”

You could only nod, humming around his fingers with pleasure before releasing them with a pop, your lips coated with a mix of your juices and saliva. Gojo pulled away from your body to get rid of his shirt, unbuttoning his pants afterwards and pulling them down, his throbbing hard cock springing free. Your mouth salivated at the sight of him wrapping a hand around his shaft, pumping it a few times while staring at you.

Satoru totally loved this sight: you spread open for him, your tortured wet cunt in display waiting to be ravaged by him. Only him. Just the thought of it made him eager to finally be inside you, his thumb smearing the pre-cum over the tip of his cock as he bit his lip. God, he wanted to ruin you so badly.

“You’re so lucky I can’t wait to fuck you either” Satoru almost growled as he positioned himself again between your legs, his nails digging in the flesh of your legs to spread them further apart, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You held back a whimper as your small hands rested against his stomach as he was entering you. “Let’s see how quiet you can be.”

And almost too easily, he slides inside of you with a steady pace, his long hand covering your mouth as he bottoms out with just one thrust. You instinctively want to put your legs together, but Satoru’s hands didn’t let you, his nails digging into your flesh. His long cock was rubbing exactly where it had to, your insides pulsating and clenching around him. The feeling of his hips connecting with yours in such rough manner was too much you couldn’t help the heat in the pit of your stomach from appearing, throwing your head back with a muffled sob before you could even stop it.

Fuck. Satoru could cum from this sight alone, watching you tremble around him as his free hand lifted your shirt to reveal your breasts, squeezing them as you tried your best to stop the moans from coming out. You were sinful. Fuck. Fuck.

“Look at you” He started circling his hips still inside you, rubbing your inside walls deliciously. “Fucking losin’ it over some cock” the way he was degrading you this night, in this exact place where anyone could hear was way more pleasurable than you would like to admit.

Satoru didn’t want to hold back anymore, pulling almost completely out before slamming back roughly, even pushing your body back due to the force of his next thrusts, quick and deep. If it wasn’t for his hand still covering your mouth, you were sure your loud moans would be joining the wet, slapping sounds filling the room. Satoru was actually being nice here, helping you stay quiet as he kept hitting your g-spot repeatedly as he growled lowly at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, knowing he went crazy whenever you did that.

Oh, but he wasn’t going to be nice anymore. His hands grabbed your waist tightly, leaving your mouth suddenly uncovered as you looked up to him through hooded eyes, mouth hanging open, drool starting to run down your chin as you gasped for air instead of making any sounds because, god, you were about to break at any point now. Satoru started controlling your movements, impaling you with his cock however he pleased with his own force, as if you were his fuck toy. You threw your head back, grabbing a pillow and biting it harshly because, lord, have mercy, you were about to scream if he kept fuck you so good.

“Yeah, just like that, baby” He was basically using your body as a toy to pleasure himself, looking down at the part you were connected to each other, biting his lip and letting out a sigh of pleasure as he continued his rough thrusts. The sight of his cock disappearing inside of you was so perfect, your juices coating every inch of himself; you were born to take his cock, nobody but him could pleasure you. “Mm, fuck, I’m making such a mess out of this sloppy cunt. You hearing that? So wet it’s almost pathetic.” Your mind was going blank at this point, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your legs started shaking around him as the pillow muffled all your cries of pleasure, feeling that familiar heat in your core.

You were close and Satoru knew it. He was fucking you stupid this early into the night and he could go for hours now that he was actually fired up. He wanted to make you struggle a little more, so he decided that throwing away the pillow you were holding onto with dear life was a good idea. Your eyes opened in surprise, no longer being able to hold your moans at the lowest volume, raising higher in tone as his thrusts went by. He wanted to hear you come apart, secretly wanting the rest of his colleagues to hear how you were falling apart in pleasure because of his ministrations to your pussy. One of Satoru’s hands flew to your cheeks, squeezing them roughly to make you look at him, his thrusts slowing down a notch, but still going deep.

“You wanna cum around my cock, baby?” He asked through heavy pants, a smirk never leaving his face as he watched you struggle to form even a word. You whimpered a little louder this time. “C’mon, say it. You can do it. Tell me how much you want me to fill you up.”

“P-Pleawse.. Nghh… Satoru m- Ahh!” You babbled non-sense through your moans, and you knew it, the pleasure being too much for you to handle right now, the grip in your face making it even harder to speak. God, you were actually pathetic, huh? All you needed to do was answer one single question and you would be seeing stars. But Gojo thought that was enough for this one time. Only this one time.

“Please, Satoru” He mocked, ridiculing you and releasing your face to grab your legs once again, spreading them open as you shook uncontrollably and continued with his fast pace. Tears started forming around the corners of your eyes due to the stimulation and how close you were to bursting, your walls pulsating around his cock so badly as he hit your cervix with every thrust. “You’re allowed to cum, baby, don’t hold back.”

And that was all you needed to throw you over the edge, head falling back with a silent sob once again as you squeezed the sheets into your fists. Satoru chuckled lowly, placing a finger over your mouth to remind you to stay quiet but you were far gone, still shaking for the still ongoing orgasm you were having. You bit Satoru’s finger subconsciously to avoid your whining getting louder. It seems he was also a sucker for pain as he was the one to let out a louder than before moan, bending over to get closer to your body, his face mere inches away from yours.

“F-Fuck, baby, I’m gonna fill you up so good.” The way you were squeezing around him was suffocating and the pain he was feeling from your biting was also bringing him closer to his release, his thrusts becoming sloppier and erratic as his free arm helped him for support when he grabbed your face again as you looked at each other. Everything else was a blur except for his cloudy eyes, foreheads pressing together as he kept groaning all the way through his release. You squeezed with the little force left in you, expecting to push him over already. “Ugh, yeah, just like that. Fuck, yes… Fuck, Y/N!”

He captured your lips into a sloppy kiss, muffling his own groans of pleasure as he stilled inside you, painting your walls white with every spurt as you felt him throb inside you, moaning against his mouth as he grinded against you. Satoru was cumming too much you started feeling it dripping out of you with the small movements of his hips. He pulled away from the kiss, panting heavily as you both were coming down from your highs, and smirked, caressing your cheek and pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time.

“God, baby…” a low chuckle escaped him as he pulled away, pulling out from you as he saw his seed coming out of you. He felt himself throb again at the sight. “We made such a mess.” Satoru gathered some of his cum in his fingers and smearing it in the outside of your walls. You whined hoarsely as you watched him play with his own release with his fingers, his cock still hard for another round.

After all, he was a big fan of sloppy seconds.

“Well, whose fault is that?” You kicked him weakly with your feet, rolling your eyes in annoyance, even if your body was feeling numb. You enjoyed it, of course, but reality was hitting you like a truck right now. It almost seemed as if Satoru made it his goal to actually get you both caught. Oh, girl, if you knew. “You sure are dumb.”

“Oh, c’mon baby, don’t be so mean. There’s no way we were heard.” Satoru pouted, his whole demeanour changing quickly as if he didn’t just fuck you into oblivion a few seconds ago. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the sound of his phone inside of his forgotten jeans interrupted him. “Wait, someone is calling me.” He pressed a kiss in your forehead and stood up quickly, roaming through the room to find his phone to answer it. The light of the screen lighted up his features before bringing it to his ear. “Yeah, my dear director~?”

Oh, no.

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about, hehe~” Satoru laughed sweetly, scratching the back of his head and sparing you a quick glance before a blush creeped up his face. You frowned. You knew the director Yaga wasn’t just calling to talk with your boyfriend at 1am on a Friday. Hell, he wouldn’t call Satoru at all if he could. “Haha! That’s funny because− What? Y/N?”

Oh, no, no. Please, no.

“I mean, yeah but− Yeah. Yeah, I understand” He let out a loud sigh, closing his eyes in frustration. You swore you could hear Yaga’s loud, angry voice all the way to where you were. “Right. Yeah. Goodbye.” Satoru hung up and gulped harshly when he felt your glare piercing through his thick head. He turned to look at you with a sweet but nervous smile, forgetting the fact he was still fully naked. You could almost see the cold sweat running down his face. “Teehee~, we are in trouble.”

You were actually going to kill him.

[nsfw-at-its-finest]

Thank you so much for writing my previous request, I absolutely loved it! 🥰

I'm so excited for your new content that I can't help but want to request more! Haha if you don't mind, can I request another top!Peter Parker & bottom!Male Reader smut? I was thinking about Peter using the Spider-Man suit and reader also using a hero suit and they fuck on the rooftop of a tall building in NYC late at night... Maybe they're just chilling there looking down at the city streets and then they start making out and things happen...

A/n: Thank you for the request! This is a shorter one because I feel like they'd definitely have to rush.

@averyfromzero

Plot: Requested

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male reader

Y/n: Your name

H/c: Hair color

E/c: Eye color

Warnings: SMUT, all characters are 18+, cussing, slight public sex (But they can’t be seen), mentions of patrol/crime, established relationship

Word count: 1006

Going on patrol was normal for Y/n at this point. The two teenage superheroes worked well together, and they were dating so getting to spend more time together? It was a given.

Usually patrol was all business, with little personal talk between the two unless they were having a lull in crime. Tonight, had been one of those nights where there haven’t been any issues for about an hour, the two heroes now sitting on a rooftop, Y/n curled against Peter’s chest.

“No, I’m just sayin Pete, you’d think the crime rates would go down, not up when fucking spider and flying dudes now protect the streets.” The boy huffed out, looking up at the bug-eyed superhero, who made a sound in his throat.

“Maybe they’d think it’d be cool to fight a superhero?” He offered, fingers running up and down Y/n’s spine soothingly.

Y/n took a moment to think, before shrugging in agreement.

“Fair enough, stupid as shit, but fair enough.” He replied, jumping slightly when Peter playfully pinched his ass.

“What do you think you’re doing mister?” Y/n questioned, raising an eyebrow unbeknownst to his boyfriend.

Peter gave a cheeky smile, noticeable since his mask was rolled up to his nose.

“Okay, so hear me out.” Peter sat up, holding his hands out in a playful defense.

“I’m listening.” Y/n replied in a flat tone, the slight quirk of the corner of his lips giving away the fact that he found it endearing.

“So, patrols been super slow tonight.”

“It has.”

“And I have this fantasy.”

“Continue.”

“Let’s fuck in our suits.”

“On the rooftop?” Y/n questioned his boyfriend.

“On the rooftop.” Peter confirmed, grin still spread across his lips. Y/n tipped his head to the side thoughtfully, before shrugging.

“Sure, fuck it. Why not?” Peter let out a happy growl, pulling his boyfriend onto his lap, hands resting possessively on Y/n’s ass.

“Mm this is why I love you.” Peter teased, leaning up to kiss the H/c haired boy. Y/n grinned against Peter’s lips, arms wrapping around the boy’s neck.

“You love me because you’re a fuckin wreck without me.” Y/n murmured against Peter’s lips, getting a hum of agreement from the doe eyed boy.

Peter nibbled on Y/n’s bottom lip, causing the other boy to part them, granting him access. Peter slid his tongue into his mouth, easily winning dominance when Y/n fought him for it.

He pulled away, a string of spit trailed between them. A smirk played on the boy’s lips as he leaned down, teeth digging into Y/n’s neck, earning a pathetically needy cry from the other boy.

Peter was already painfully hard, just from hearing Y/n’s delicious sounds. He lapped at the bruising mark on the smaller boy’s neck, finger’s digging into his ass.

Y/n clicked the button on his suit that loosened the fabric, enough to where he could slip his lower half out, prompting Peter to simply whip his dick out.

“Do you need to be stretched?” He asked softly, finger’s running up the other boy’s spine.

“No, still pretty loose from this morning.” Y/n replied with a grin, causing Peter to snort softly. He kissed the E/c eyed boy once more, this time softer with the exchange.

“Let me know if I hurt you, yeah?” Peter breathed out, eyes fluttering under his mask.

“Of course, Petey.” Y/n replied softly, kicking off his underwear. Y/n sat comfortably in Peter’s lap, grabbing the other boy’s cock and lining it up to his entrance.

He slowly sunk down, letting out light breathy sounds that made all the blood leave Peter’s brain. His fingers curled into Y/n’s waist, stabilizing his boyfriend as he let out a low groan.

Y/n placed his hands on Peter’s chest, causing the boy to fall back with a small huff, eyes now looking up at the sky scattered with millions of stars.

Y/n let out a small whimper once he was fully seated on Peter, shifting his hips back and forth as he clenched around Peter’s length.

“Fuck… Pete.” Y/n breathed out, eyes screwing shut as he rolled his hips, a moan leaving his lips at the friction.

The smaller man began to roll his hips, slowly raising himself off of Peter, only to drop back down to be filled once more.

Peter watched, entranced as his boyfriend rode him. This wasn’t the first nor the last time Peter would feel like the luckiest man alive, getting to see such an ethereal being, being able to call the ethereal being his boyfriend.

Y/n’s back arched as Peter rubbed against his prostate, toes curling as he began to bounce a bit faster on his length.

Praises fell from the smaller mans lips, eyes rolled back and lips parted as words and moans alike were strewn together incoherently.

Peter’s stomach tightened, causing him to cup the back of Y/n’s head and kiss him feverishly as Y/n fucked himself on Peter.

Y/n came first with a weak and pathetic whimper, his thighs shaking violently as he continued to roll his hips, babbling nonsense.

Peter let out a low growl when he felt Y/n clench around him, one hand moving to grip the concrete, which cracked under his grip as he came with a low groan of pleasure, eyes rolled back.

The two teens panted heavily, Y/n leaning on Peter for support. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but a laugh leaving his lips instead when he heard police sirens.

“The duty calls babe.” He said with a sigh, watching Y/n quickly get dressed on shaky legs. The smaller man leaned up, kissing Peter softly.

“Love you spidey!” He called over his shoulder, diving off the roof, leaving Peter to follow.

“I love you too.” He breathed out, watching his boyfriend with fond eyes, before quickly following after.

[moxfirefly]

Hey I kinda wanna make a request (don't know if I have already)

13:I’m not wearing anything under this

26:Don’t make me pull over - that’s it

29:Scream for me. I want everyone to know how good I make you feel

Praise Kink

Over-stimulation kink

With the loveable nerd donnie?

If this isn't possible I understand, love all your work by the way

I have never seen a more perfect set up. Friend you’ve got it!

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

He exactly knew what you were trying to do from the moment you climbed into the truck in that frilly little sun dress. In fact he would bet a kidney that the choice of wardrobe on the hot summers night was catered to distract him to the point of muttering to himself.

Donnie was and is, a safe driver.

But that stupid dress had mysteriously ridden up your thighs when he hit a pothole somewhere into his drive through Manhattan. It was a fun little activity the two of you did all the time, a means of getting away, AC on high and privacy you both didn’t get often.

But you had intentions.

Intentions that hopefully would lead to the a very good outcome. So when Donnie saw your hands smooth over the tops of your thighs, his eye would twitch. Never mind when you crossed your legs and that defiant flimsy fabric just allowed more skin to show.

“-could you believe the nerve of that guy? Anyways my boss fired him, good riddance honestly. What about you babe? How was your day?” Donnie had absorbed cero information for the first time in his life, he was at a red light, big brown eyes blinking at you.

You smirked, uncrossing your legs, crossing them the opposite way you had previously.

“What’s your game plan here?” He asked, you almost snorted.

“Whatever are you saying my dearest? Can a gal know how her man’s day has been?” Oh you were a clever sneak but your eyes always betrayed you and when the corners of your mouth shot up in a fit of laughter, Donnie frowned. “My day is great! Just somewhat distracted by a certain someone, you know if we crash it’s totally your fault” He honked when the guy in front of him didn’t move at the green light.

Wanting to make things even more savory, you played with the hem of your dress. “I love when I distract you, it’s a favorite past time of mine” You lifted it and reveled in Donnie almost cracking his neck to see what you were doing and then back to the road ahead.

“I’m not wearing anything under this” You spoke, a sultry hint to your words. You were in fact bare, with every intention of teasing him into having to do something about it.

He bit his lip and shook his head, this was so not happening right now and you sure as hell weren’t...

“Y/n...” Your name sounded like a demand the moment he saw your palm run over the hood of your sex. He kept a good handle of driving and sneaking glances at your lap. Your legs spread enough for you to slide a finger in between your folds and to Donnie’s pure teasing realization he heard how wet you were. You relaxed back, soft touches working you up and Donnie soft little churrs picking up volume. When you pushed that digit inside of yourself, he gripped the steering wheel. “Don’t make me pull over” It was that stern voice he used on occasion.

With another turn on a less trafficked street, you turned to him, digit slowly pumping in and out of you and said, “Or what?” You grinned mischievously. “-That’s it”

Donnie parked the car by the sidewalk, not really caring that even if it was relatively late pedestrians were still passing by here and there. He reclined your chair, enjoying the little yelp that exited your mouth. Pushing your hand away he popped his own digit into his mouth before teasing it at your entrance. “Have you been walking around this city with no underwear? Answer me” You stifled a giggle by biting your lip but that quickly melted into a moan when he pushed his much larger digit inside of you. Your thighs shook with the delightfully stuffed sensation it brought.

“You haven’t answered my question” He thrusted his finger, moving just the way he knew that could illicit the best response.

“So what if I did?” Defiant words for somebody in a precarious position. Donnie had that little twinkle in his eye, the one you knew all too well.

“Nobody, and I do mean nobody, has or will have the right to see this” He emphasized the last word with a harsher thrust of his finger that made you choke. “I guess that only leaves one other option, reminding you exactly who you belong to” That sentence was enough to make you want to scream internally, pushing the usually chill terrapin to these extents wasn’t the easiest. Sometimes one had to play dirty, which you we never opposed to doing so.

Somewhere between a moan and a full body shiver you felt Donnie crook his finger. That first release whenever sought out like this, always made you just a little dizzy, made your joints protest from tensing so much. Your hands flew to his chest, the firmness of his plates grounding you back from your high.

“Say ‘thank you, Donnie’, come on baby, use your words” He swelled with pride seeing your mouth start to move but nothing resembling the words coming out.

So naturally, he started up again.

You squished your thighs together, trapping his hand when the oversensitivity hit but he only ‘tsk’d’ his disapprovement and gave your thighs a soft slap. “Don’t squeeze, don’t squeeze” Trembling thighs obeyed and separated enough for him to continue his strokes, thumb circling over your clit with enough pressure to make your hand fly up to your mouth.

Just like that he pulled another orgasm out of you, but did not stop his motions over your clit.

You started to squirm, breath hitching into embarrassing squeaks and all the more he glued those precious brown orbs of his to you.

“Well?” He barely sounded strained, he was hardly even breaking a sweat.

“Thank you! Thank you!” You shut your eyes when he didn’t stop, every nerve in your body felt over exposed, saturated with the constant onslaught to your sensitive nub.

One more, yanked from your body, hard enough you felt a rush of something in your brain and that jelly like feeling hit your limbs. He fucked his finger slowly in and out, bringing you down into a somewhat false sense of security. Your hazy vision found the window on your side, a few pedestrians passing and the idea that somebody could’ve heard...

Pulling out his digit, Donnie popped it into his mouth. “I had a very nice date planned out, but then again this isn’t far off from the original plan” He pulled you up into a sitting position but maneuvered you onto your knees to face the car window. He bunched up your dress and nudged you forward to rest your hands on the glass. “You like making a spectacle? Walking around with nothing under your dress?” Donnie spoke those words against the back of your head, he enjoyed the scent of your hair. Gripping your hips he pushed you against the prominent bulge.

Oh how your thighs shook. Your breath fogged up the glass as you heard him unzip. “Dee-ohfuck” He ran the length of his cock through your folds, squeezing your thighs for the right pressure for the teasing friction. “Aren’t I a nice guy? See how good I treat you?” He hunched over you, chin resting on your shoulder. A large three fingered hand landed on the glass next to yours, it gutted him to see the contrast in size, to see your pinky wrap around his much thicker digit. “Tell me how it feels, when I push into you” He whispered against your shoulder, slowly sliding in and stretching you out.

It was tricky, the space wasn’t too small but between both seats he found a good spot to stand (or more so bend) and give you the first thrust that left your mouth hanging open. “So so so good,” You muttered with a shaky voice. “And? What else?” He loved the way you swallowed letters the moment he thrusted just a little harder. “You’re so fucking big, you do this so good, god Donnie nobody’s fucked me like you before” There was deep rumbling churr against your neck, he tasted salt and your perfume when he licked it.

“You’re the best, you’re the fucking best!” You moaned out, loud enough you felt embarrassment as somebody passed by. Naturally Donnie noticed, smirking against your neck. “Now we’re shy? Now you want to be a good girl?” He hooked an arm around your waist and absolutely threw caution to the god damn wind.

He sped up, deep thrusts that were fully determine to make you scream your head off. Right there with his hips smacking against your rear he spoke the words you knew would be your undoing.

“Scream for me, I want everyone to know how good I make you feel” He drove into you with that very purpose in mind. That long cock of his hitting exactly the spots you needed in order to do so. In order to scream your head off when your release came suddenly and so devastatingly strong, you felt something gush out of you. It’s intensity made your eyes shut tight as you rode the high. Feeling teeth at your shoulder and a muffled string of curses and your name you felt warmth shoot into you.

You don’t remember Donnie shuffling the two of you onto the couch but at some point you’re there. Body slumped, dress still scrunched up as Donnie rummages through a small bin for some wet wipes. “Did you cum on the chair again?” You asked him sleepily and with a smile, you still had enough gas in the tank for a few jabs. He had bag between his teeth as he stumbled to push up his pants. Dropping the wipes near you he smirked.

“No, but you did” He declared quite triumphantly.

Your foggy dopamine ridden brain took a bit to load.

“I squirted!?” You wanted to sit up but that wasn’t gonna happen any time soon. You covered your face, embarrassment clear. Donnie snorted and rubbed your rear affectionately. “Please, if it were up to me I’d leave it there like a badge of honor” He stifled another laugh when you peaked through hands and glared.

“By the way...” He kissed your arm.

“Hm?” The sensation lulled you.

“I love you” His words were soft yet serious.

“I love you more” You whispered back.

[ashasmonsters]

The Thru-Hiker

Female reader x Male mothperson (Desmond)

Citrus rating: Lemon

Content: Full-on smut, references to unhappy breakups

Words: 5.1k

Note: Here's the story that earns me the "18+" in my description. This is my first time making anything this smutty public, so any feedback or criticism would be appreciated. Enjoy!

You raised the viewfinder to your eye. The rolling hills fit within the frame-lines neatly, the trail before you leading straight down the middle and towards the horizon. With a satisfying click the shutter fired. You lowered the camera and cranked the film advance lever, confident that shot would turn out well. You let the camera dangle from your shoulder once again as you looked around: this spot was close enough to the main trail that you wouldn't need any "breadcrumbs" to lead you back to it in the morning. The sun would finish setting in an hour or so, and bird chirps had given way to trilling crickets and cicadas. It was warm enough that you didn't need to build a fire. Your stove would do just fine.

"That's a nice camera."

You turned towards the voice. Standing behind you, closer to the main trail and obscured slightly by foliage, loomed a lanky mothman. He wore clothes appropriate for hiking the Appalachian trail, though you hadn't seen him around. This meant he was quick or hiking the opposite direction as you.

"Thanks." You answered. He pushed a few low-hanging twigs out of the way and took a step towards you.

"Is that a..." he paused, his brow furrowing above his red compound eyes as he searched for a word, "Yashica, right?"

"Mamiya, actually." You answered, hefting the brick-shaped camera from your hip where it dangled. "It's been a pain to hike with, but I love it all the same."

"I'm sure you've got some excellent shots in that thing. I'm Desmond." He closed the remaining distance and tenderly extended a chitinous claw. You shook it in turn and returned his greeting.

"I don't believe I've seen you on the trail, Desmond," you said, "are you using those wings or hiking southbound?"

"Oh, I'm hiking southbound. Flying would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"

"I guess that is a silly question." You lowered your eyes and made eye contact with his hiking boots. "I'm heading northbound."

"Hm. You must have started the trail pretty recently."

"That's right. I started maybe three weeks ago. You must be pretty close to finishing if you're going southbound."

"Been on the trail for five months." He answered.

"Wow." You breathed. Maybe mothmen wore it better, but he certainly looked neat for having lived in the wilderness for almost half a year. You caught yourself staring. "Um, got any tips for a relatively fresh hiker like me?"

"Take your time and enjoy yourself." He said, looking down at you. "The trail is going to take the better part of a year from you no matter what, so there's no point in rushing it."

"Thanks for the advice." A pause. You saw your reflection in his ruby eyes. "Anyway... I don't want to keep you from the trail, being nocturnal and all." You failed to suppress a tinge of longing in your voice. The sun started to kiss the horizon, making the canopy above you look like it was on fire.

"Well, actually..." Desmond rested a claw on the back of his neck fluff, "I was going to ask if you would share this spot with me. It's going to be a full moon and I planned to take a rest to enjoy it."

"Oh," you said, glad the sunset was masking your blush, "that should be fine, then."

"I don't want to impose, I could always find my own—"

"No, really, it's fine." You said, gesturing around the sizeable clearing. "We're sharing a view, not a cot. I don't mind."

"Ah, right." He played with his neck fluff again. "Well then, let's not waste the daylight." You nodded and slid your pack off.

Your sleeping arrangements for the trail had been spartan, but still comfortable. You carried a thin foam pad which rolled up nicely and fit under your sleeping bag, a tarp with hooks for hanging from above, a camp stove, and a sack to keep your food strung up a branch and away from animals.

All of this was set up fairly quickly since Desmond was helping you. He was quite tall, which made stringing up the extra food much easier than when you had done it alone. In no time, your foam pad was safely encircled by your hanging tarp and your stove was boiling a pot of water. Tonight's dinner was an Appalachian Trail classic: dehydrated cheesy rice. You took the initiative to invoke full-on luxury by adding a handful of equally dehydrated broccoli florets. You had a guest to entertain, after all.

"Thanks for making me breakfast. Dinner, in your case." Desmond said. The dim blue light from the camp stove caught only the very edges of his chitinous frame. His red eyes shone bright like a cat's through the steam from the culinary masterpiece cooking between you two.

"Consider it my treat." You smiled back. There was a pause, so you pulled a topic from the air. "Are you a photographer too? Not many people can tell apart the brands of these old things." You patted your Mamiya camera as if it were a tiny metal lapdog.

"Ah, no," He said, almost defensively, "if you have compound eyes like me, you can't really look through viewfinders. It just doesn't work."

"Right, sorry." You rubbed the back of your neck. "Where does your camera knowledge come from, then?"

"Well... you know the old mothpeople stereotype about how we like light?"

"Um." You spoke carefully. "I have heard of it."

"I kinda live up to that stereotype. Like, very much. It's why I wanted to stop here to watch the full moon."

"Okay, but how does that tie into cameras?"

"It's kind of embarrassing." He fidgeted with his long white neck fuzz. "It's the flash. When it goes off, it's like... like..."

"Like a drug?" You finished for him.

"No! Not like that. It's not addictive... I don't think. It's more like... what's that thing humans do with their nails and their skin?"

"Like scratching an itch?"

"Yes! Exactly." He said excitedly. "I don't itch, but if I did, I imagined it would feel like when a camera flash goes off."

You chuckled even though you knew he was a little embarrassed. This whole situation was just too absurd, too odd.

"So you're like a connoisseur of camera flashes." A pause. He lowered his gaze.

"Mamiyas have the best one." You chuckled again.

"Well, then." You pulled your camera from your bag and held it before you. "May I take your portrait?"

"If it's no trouble," his antennae perked up, "yes please."

Wrestling the camera into shooting position, you flipped the viewfinder open and aimed it squarely at him. The scene fit perfectly within the frame-lines; the glowing blue stove flames in the foreground and Desmond's red eyes neatly in the middle.

"Looks good to me." You said, pressing the flash release. The flash, a piece of metal the size of your thumb, sprung out of the camera and whined as the battery charged it.

"Oh, wow." He noted. You pressed the shutter—

"Goddamn!" Desmond cried, shuddering. Briefly, a low chirr seemed to emanate from him. "Pardon my French. That was good."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Most people hate when I ask to take their portrait." You cranked the film advance lever and smiled. You returned your camera to its place in your bag, then... remembered there was a meal on the stove. "Crap, I hope the bottom isn't burning." You said, quickly grabbing the stirring spoon and scraping the bottom of the pot. You continued until you were sure the food was in good shape.

"You know, when I thought about making this trek, I was worried about getting lonely. Like I wouldn't be able to put up with just myself for so long... but I've already met so many people and they've all been kind." You continued stirring the meal.

"Then what made you consider it in the first place?" Desmond asked, cocking an antenna.

"Oh... you know... adventure." You lied. The resulting pause made you painfully aware of how bad of a liar you are. The cheesy rice bubbled and spat steam at you as if heckling your poor performance.

"I'd believe that if you had a fedora and a whip. And knew where the holy grail was." He chuckled, his mandibles clicking.

"What?"

"Ah, just a stupid joke. There's these old movies..." He cut himself off and extended an empty claw, taking the spoon from you and making it his turn to stir. "I don't want to tell you your business, but everybody I've met in the past five months comes to the trail to run from something."

"Well... you're right that it's definitely my business." You tried not to scowl. The turn in conversation had resurrected an unpleasant feeling in your heart; something in the same neighborhood as shame or sadness.

"Not if what you're running from is the law and you're a serial killer or something. Then that's definitely my business." He clicked once more. His attempt to lighten the conversation didn't help that feeling much. The cheesy rice heckled him this time.

"I'm not a serial killer, I promise." You started, drawing in a sharp breath. Perhaps you just needed to vent. Maybe that would ease this malaise. "Why don't you start? Tell me what you're running from first, then I'll tell you about me." You took the stirring spoon back from him. He ran a claw down his face.

"I'm running from a breakup. We dated for three years." He sighed.

"I'm... sorry." You said, unsure of what else to say.

"Don't apologize; not unless you're the girl she ran off with." His mandibles clicked weakly. "I'm kidding. She didn't run off or anything. She didn't even cheat. She just realized that men weren't for her."

You raised an eyebrow. "Three whole years?"

"It didn't take her that long to realize it, just that long to work up the courage to tell me. Maybe I wasn't her true love, but she cared about me a lot. She was so scared of hurting me that she bottled it up for most of that time."

"You didn't want to remain friends?"

"I did— and I still do. I... I just said three things: 'I need some time to process this,' 'I'm in a lot of pain but it's not your fault,' and 'I'm going hiking for six months, call me back when I'm done.' That's all I could think of in the moment, and now I'm here."

"That's rough."

"You're telling me." His shoulders dropped. "I'm used to breakups with jerks. That I can make peace with, because then it's like a problem that solves itself. Jerk breaks up with you, therefore no more jerk to deal with. But... when it's someone that you love, that you want the best for, and that means they have to move on... that's something I'm still trying to work out." He sighed hard and lowered his crimson eyes. "I think the rice is done."

You were so caught up in his pained explanation that you lost track of time. You quickly turned off the camp stove and set the pot on the ground.

"Thanks for reminding me." You grabbed your enamel bowl as he readied his and started dishing out the rice and broccoli. You both sat there in silence, enjoying the feeling of hot food in hand. "Anyway, I guess it's my turn to share."

"Please. I wouldn't want to dump my problems on you without hearing out yours."

"I had a breakup too, though honestly I think mine wasn't as rough as yours." You said.

"We all go through different things. It's not a contest." Desmond said, idly poking his steaming meal. "Tell me about it, if you want."

So you did. Over the course of the meal, you told Desmond all about your past relationship: the fights you had with your ex, the nights spent in separate sleeping arrangements, the endless worry over how much of it was your fault. He nodded sympathetically with each painful memory you unraveled to him. Remembering it all made you feel worse, but having him listen made it feel much better. When you had no more to say, he stared at you. You saw yourself reflected in his eyes. Your spoon was trembling.

"It's okay to cry. I won't mind." Was all Desmond said before you had to set down your food and hold your face in your hands. It's like you had been saving up a surplus of tears throughout all these events and just barely they were escaping you. You could hear Desmond awkwardly scoot over in the dirt to your side before he offered a rigid shoulder to you.

"Chitin isn't exactly memory foam, but..." You rested your head on him without a second thought. One of his claws found its way to your shoulder and you felt better for it. This was the first time you had mentioned your breakup out loud and unquestionably the first time anyone had offered you a shoulder to cry on, literally or figuratively.  You quickly came to find even Desmond's exoskeleton quite comfortable.

"Thanks for listening." You said as your sobs started to slow. He plainly chirred in response, making his grip on your shoulder a little tighter. His embrace was the first one you had felt since the breakup. You felt warm and safe in a way you had previously only had with your ex long ago. His neck fluff tickled you as he leaned his head onto yours.

"It's okay." You could feel his mandibles nudge your cheek as he spoke. "I know how hard it is." Your composure returned, and you stilled yourself against him. You finally removed your hands from your face, your eyes bloodshot.

"I'm glad I'm not wearing makeup." You chuckled weakly. "Otherwise my cheeks would look like a barcode right now."

"That's the spirit. Enjoy the little things." He rubbed your shoulder. "That's what the trail is all about."

You found yourself naturally holding Desmond closer, burying yourself in his neck fluff and wrapping an arm around his side as he held you. He smelled like pine and smoke. You grabbed your bowl of food once more and resumed eating, not leaving Desmond's side.

"I'm sorry for smearing my tears all over you." You said, coming back to reality. The taste of rehydrated cheesy rice wasn't great, but it was warm and familiar. Combined with Desmond's arm wrapped around you, the pain and baggage from the breakup left you like grime after a shower.

"It's alright." He said. "If moths could cry, I'd be crying all over you too. We're in the same shitty breakup boat."

He and you sat there together, finishing the meal. The camp stove had been turned off for a while now, and the only warmth you felt was your own, reflected off his chitin. The pause was permeated by lesser insects chirping and wind gently rustling the branches above. As you finished your food, you became painfully aware that Desmond couldn't hold you forever. He'd have to get in his sleeping bag eventually, and in the morning, continue his hike to nowhere other than your distant memories. Or, maybe...

"Want to share my sleeping bag with me?" The words left your mouth before you could even react. A second later, you realized what you had said and your heart raced. Your face found itself hidden in your hands again.

Why the fuck would you say that? Are you crazy? How would you feel if he randomly propositioned you for sex, huh? To which your responded to yourself with, Screw it, I'd be down for that.

Oh well. The fact he'd leave forever in the morning was both a blessing and a curse... but for now, mostly a blessing. It didn't matter if you were "rebounding" or doing something impulsive. Whatever happened tonight would stay in tonight. You and him would go your separate ways and there wouldn't be any regrets to be had. You practically held your breath as he processed what you said; the pause felt infinitely long.

"I'd love to." He broke the silence, his mandibles clicking more than usual. "Unless you're having second thoughts."

You looked up at him and shook your head. Wordlessly, he took your hand stood up with you. You led him to your dangling tarp wherein your sleeping bag and foam pad rested. Luxurious it was not, but as you slapped aside the flap and pulled Desmond in behind you, little else other than him was on your mind. You sat down on your "bed" and turned round, looking at him. His saucer-sized red eyes glowed as they met your gaze. He stepped closer.

"You're sure?" He said, kneeling before you. "I don't want to—"

You leaned forward and grabbed his head, clumsily planting a kiss where his mouth would be if he was human. It seemed to do the trick; he gasped and relaxed, his mandibles caressing your cheeks. You pulled back to breathe.

"I'm not asking you to marry me." You planted another kiss on him, tugging on his neck fluff. "I'm asking you to keep me company tonight."

"If you insist." He clicked. Something in his tone changed. For the first time his voice had timbre and need. He had left his tone suited for polite conversation and jokes outside your tarp. Here on your twin-sized foam pad, all pretenses were gone. You both knew you were going to give yourselves to each other; yet he surprised you by tugging the neck of your shirt down and scattering little kisses from your chin to your collarbone with his proboscis. It was rough and leathery and frankly didn't feel like anything you had touched before. You shuddered when he took it with him, descending past your breasts and peeling your shirt off your belly.

"Desmond..." You sighed, the only thing keeping this encounter casual being the button on your jeans.

"Everything alright so far?" He looked up at you with his large eyes, his mandibles brushing against your thigh as he spoke.

"Excellent." You breathed, resting a hand on the back of his neck fluff. "Please..." You used the same hand to ever-so-gently nudge him closer to your midst, which was already roiling with burning need. With a single claw, he carefully undid the button and zipper. You shimmied out of your jeans until his neck fluff  tickled the inside of your exposed thighs; your underwear soon followed. He clicked some more as you fully exposed your entrance to him, his eyes studying you and his claws gently finding their way to each of your legs.

"Forgive me, it's been a while." He said as he lowered his face into you. You reclined further, only gazing upwards to the tarp and a tiny patch of starry sky.

"Don't talk, just— Ah!" He pulled a gasp from you as he began his ministrations. With your head resting on the foam pad, you just closed your eyes and let the sensations fill you. Something of his, you weren't quite sure what, playfully danced around the edges of your entrance until it found its mark. It gently flicked across that tender nub and your hips bucked in response. You held his neck plumage tighter, desperately tugging him closer to you.

"Keep going, that's— oh, that's perfect..." He didn't resist your pull. If anything, as his fuzz tickled you and his mandibles started to prod at your folds he increased his fervor. Relentlessly he played across all parts of you at once. Hard chitinous mandibles spread you open while his proboscis felt like it was everywhere. It rubbed your bead with every advance it made into you, filling you with a tingling warmth that spread throughout your whole body. He didn't let up at all, your breath hitching and leaving you as moans. You rocked your hips and whined. Harder and harder, rhythmically to a rapidly increasing tempo. You gripped him tighter, burying his face into you. Ecstasy built within your core with each surge of his "tongue" until you could hold on no longer.

"Oh, oh!" You cried, your body seizing and legs locking around his shoulders. Pleasure crackled around your whole body and there, in the dark with Desmond wordlessly working you, you weren't sure how much time you spent at the peak. Slowly, the sparks behind your eyes stopped flying. Your breath resumed its normal rhythm. Lifting your head off your sleeping bag, you made eye contact with his glowing red orbs, the only source of light under your tarp.

"How did I do?" He chittered, his grin smug enough for you to sense even in the darkness.

"You were fantastic." You indulged him, running your hand through his fuzz as he crawled over top of you. He pressed his forehead to yours.

"I didn't tire you out, did I?" He asked before descending upon you and kissing you lightly. With the gap between you two closed, you felt something tumescent and twitching under his shorts brush against you.

"I suppose I can stay up some more." You giggled as his fuzz tickled your collarbone. "I'll just sleep in."

"Glad to hear it." Desmond rasped. His voice grew ragged as he nipped at your neck, cradling your chin in one claw and using the other to undo his shorts. In the darkness, you could only feel something slick, smooth, and long come to rest on your belly. You squeezed your thighs around it. Desmond immediately chirred louder than before, sounding like a baritone version of the insects outside. His deep timbre resonated inside you.

"Excited?" You teased, his length completely at your mercy as you held it between your legs.

"I've forgotten how warm humans feel." He rumbled.

"Can I jog your memory?"

"Please."

You released him from your thighs and reached down with a hand. You felt the entirety of his length in your grasp; it was delightfully slick and uniform with pleasant little ridges to encounter as your hand traveled towards his base. You grasped it gently, eliciting more bassy chitters from him as you angled it towards your entrance. You fumbled a bit in the darkness, but after a few tries his tip rested at your threshold. His eyes met yours.

"Ready?" He clicked.

"Go ahead." You gripped his shoulders and pulled him close, nestling your face in his fluff as he started entering you. His hips slowly began to close the distance, each ridge on his length pushing a squeak out of you. His pace was deliciously slow. You had just enough time to adjust but not to catch your breath. All you could do was hold him tight in the darkness, nothing but the sensation and his chirring to occupy your mind. It felt like an eternity of slowly being filled by him. Eventually, cool chitin met your wet bundle of nerves, sending electric pleasure up your spine and forcing a gasp out of you.

"That's all of it." He grunted, his body completely flush with yours. "Do you feel alright?"

"Give me a moment." you said, exhaling sharply. The sensation of fullness with him hilted completely within you took your breath away. Little moans escaped you as his shaft quivered inside your depths. Embracing him, you found a steady breathing rhythm once more. "Okay, you can move."

With only chitters in response, he buried his head in the nape of your neck, his mandibles poking and prodding as he peppered you with kisses. His hardness withdrew just as slowly as when he entered you, then returned with a steady tempo. Each time his hips rocked you moaned into his fuzz. You imagined if you and Desmond had met at a different time or a different place, you'd be voicing your pleasures into a pillow. Since he had started his rhythmic thrusts, Desmond held a low, purring chirr that surged each time his pelvis met yours.

He chittered something specific, completely forgoing English as he picked up speed. He released your shoulders from his grasp. Changing position, he now kneeled upright with his knees on either side of your rear and his claws firmly gripping your thighs. The new leverage and angle made you squeal. He pumped in earnest now, both the speed and impact making you moan with nothing to stifle your voice.

"Desmond!" You cried, one hand splayed above your head and the other reaching down to hold your sensitive bead, "Keep going!" His pace remained constant. The low chirr grew into a growl. He pounded over and over, his hips slamming into your ass. As if it took considerable effort, he wrestled his chitters back into grunting speech you could understand.

"Close," he said sharply, "getting close!" You decided against speaking, instead locking your ankles behind him and rubbing your nub feverishly to meet him at the brink. His pace quickened even more. His claws squeezed your thighs as he desperately held onto you— into you, his thrusts remaining deeper inside you as they mounted in strength. His chirring returned, ascending in volume and pitch into a strangled, desperate call. His gaze snapped skyward and his back arched and he desperately pulled at your entire body in an effort to seat himself as deep within you as he could. You cried out in time with him. Your voice reached its limits. You rubbed yourself with abandon as you felt his cock fire within you with great trembling pulses. The pleasure within you mounted, growing until it erupted with a crackling warmth that left you quivering and crying out. He held himself as deep as he could go, grinding his hips into yours. Hissing, he lowered himself upon you once more and kissed you hard. You wailed into his mandibles as you rode out your peak. His hard chitin ground into your nub and held you at your limit before his rolling hips finally relented. Still, but remaining deep within you, he broke away from the kiss. You caught your breath as your eyes locked.

"Goodness..." You panted. Your face burned. Streaks of cool wetness rolled from your eyes down your cheeks. Desmond's chirring slowed into nothingness. The only sounds left were your breathing and nature outside.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his usual tone returning slowly.

"I'm great, Desmond," You smiled, "but you managed to tire me out this time." He clicked, then slowly withdrew his softening length from your sensitive core. You felt something ooze out of you, but were too exhausted to do anything about it.

"Sleep, please." He said, stroking your hair with a claw. "I'll be right here. Don't worry about anything else."

When morning arrived, the hole in the roof of your tarp acted as a skylight. You had awoken fortuitously just before the golden beam would have shone burning rays straight into your eyes. You definitely slept in, but found yourself fully clothed. You expected to feel something regretfully sticky and wet in your underwear, but you were completely clean. For a moment, you considered that last night might have been a dream. That line of thought was cut short by the sound of boiling water and the smell of coffee creeping into your tarp.

You emerged to find Desmond sitting in front of a small fire, emptying granules of instant coffee into a pot.

"Coffee?" He offered. "It'll be done in a bit."

"Thank you, Desmond." You sat in the same spot as you did last night over dinner. The silence that followed was comfortable and warm, unlike last night's awkward pauses. You watched him shake the pot with a claw as the sun warmed you. "I guess I should also thank you for, um, cleaning me up. I kinda passed out on you there. Sorry."

"No, no. It's fine. I'm nocturnal, remember?" He looked up at you and grinned. "It felt good to take care of a sleeping human again. It reminded me of old times." His grin softened into a gentle smile. The instant coffee had fully dissolved and he pulled the pot from the fire. He filled, then offered you an enamel mug which you accepted. The aroma was cheap and comforting.

"I'm going to miss you." You held the mug tightly. You didn't meet his eyes as you spoke, instead staring into the coffee as if it would tell you what to do.

"Me too." Desmond responded.

"Could we... could you..." You searched for the best way to ask. "Would you want to be with me?" Desmond released a slow chitter. He shook his head, and his soft smile shifted further into a shallow frown.

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "I wouldn't feel comfortable whisking you away three weeks after your breakup. Hell, I'm five months out from my own and I'm still not sure about where I am emotionally." You nodded in response. The coffee in your hands cooled in the resulting silence.

"I guess this is where we part ways, then." You sighed.

"Maybe..." He finally met your gaze. "You're hiking northbound. That means you'll finish in what, five more months?"

"Four if I hurry."

"The trail ends in Maine. There's this tiny, tiny town up there." He mused. "When you finish the trail, look for me around town. I'll be there. If you still want to be with me... then we could pursue a relationship like normal people. Coffee dates and stuff. If not... well, I'll buy you lunch."

"Is that another one of your movie references?" You chuckled. His plan sounded like something straight out of a cheesy rom-com.

"I'm serious." He explained. "My mom lives up there, and I've got nowhere else to be in four to five months."

"How am I supposed to find you?"

"I'm pretty sure the town population is in the double digits, and I'm definitely sure that me and my mom are the only mothpeople there." You considered his offer. It was all you had to look forward to, really.

"Let's shake on it." You extended a hand to him over the dying embers. He reached out to meet you, but then suddenly paused. "What's wrong?" You asked, a pang of fear striking you.

"I have one condition: when you inevitably run into my mom, our story has to be something other than, 'we met up on the trail and had sex after an embarrassingly short conversation and a camera flash,' okay?" You burst into laughter, as did he. He took your hand in his claw and shook enthusiastically.

"We have a deal." You answered. "Don't worry, I'll come up with something good."

"You better. You've got four-to-five months to craft it." He clicked. You smiled.

When you both finished your coffee, you gave him a hug and enjoyed the feeling of his neck fuzz on your cheek one last time. The fire had gone out, you packed up your tarp and sleeping bag, and you took a few steps north on the trail. You stopped soon after and turned, watching him go. He disappeared into the foliage. Sighing, you resumed your hike. To pass the time you talked to yourself.

"Ah, so nice to meet you, Mrs. Moth-mom. Yes, of course, we met at a pottery class."

No! Stupid.

"We were flying kites in the park, and ours got tangled up together—"

Now you sound like you're referencing sappy rom-coms.

You sighed. At least you'd have a while to come up with something convincing.

[moonctzeny]

get to you again

pairing: friends to lovers! hendery x fem!reader 

genre: smut, just a tiny teeny bit angsty I guess but with a happy ending, fluff

word count: 3k

warnings: raw sex, creampie, a little corruption kink?

summary:  “You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?”

inspiration: get to you again - mac ayres

tagging the lovely: @markresonates

It had been too long since you last saw Hendery.

You two had met so unexpectedly, both trapped in a small coffee shop a couple years ago, drenched to the bone and trying to find cover from the sudden rainfall.

“I was going to ask you if you were willing to share your umbrella, but I’m guessing you forgot it on the wrong day like me”, he joked, so you decided to share a table instead. After the fourth time he had you clench your stomach in laughter, out of the sheer willingness to make a stranger like you cheer up, you decided to exchange phone numbers, thus starting what would become a beautiful friendship.

It wasn’t easy being an idol. Two promotions in Korea, then a reality show in China, then another comeback. You counted the days, one by one until he’d get to you again. Until you’d finally re-watch his favorite movie with him for the millionth time, just to get to watch him laugh over the same stupid lines.

You weren’t sure when you realized you had fallen for him. Maybe it was last winter, almost exactly a year ago when he handed you your Christmas present. He had driven you on a hill on the outskirts of Seoul, the only place he knew with some privacy from prying eyes, and the breathtaking view of the tiny city lights made the freezing cold worth it. You were both sitting against the hood of his car, admiring the big city that seemed to unravel at your feet when you opened the small velvet box.

It revealed a silver necklace of two wings hanging from a dainty chain, with his initials carved on the back of the charm. As you stared at it long enough to make sure you weren’t making things up, you couldn’t decide which one was more beautiful- the pendant or the stars in Hendery’s eyes as he waited for your reaction.

“It’s symbolic”, he started explaining, a little embarrassed with how much effort he had put into the gift, “I know I’m not around a lot to take care of you, but just know that I’m always there if you need me. Like your guardian angel”.

He sounded so wholesome while saying it, long bangs covering his eyes that bashfully avoided yours. You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?

Tonight, it was beating as fast as the rhythm of the blinking Christmas lights decorating your living room. How could it not, with Hendery sitting only a few inches away, sharing a blanket with you? He was a few minutes late due to a last-minute photoshoot, but he arrived at your door bare faced and dressed in his favourite flannel shirt. He was just how you liked him, raw and soft and beautiful.

Unlike what you had predicted, he suggested checking out a new romantic comedy on Netflix. It was one of those that come out every Christmas season, all with the same low budget and cheesy acting that ended with some festive spirit that magically solves every plot hole. Two childhood friends, falling in love with each other, yet the girl thinks that the guy is way out of her league so she does nothing about it. The pure irony convinced you that the universe must be surely playing some sick joke on you, forcing you to look at a Hollywood version of yourself getting a happy ending for the next two hours.

“I don’t understand”, Hendery huffs in frustration, midway into the film by now, “why doesn’t the girl just tell him she likes him? What guy doesn’t want to hear that?”

“Maybe she’s scared of the rejection, or ruining everything-“ you start defending the character with a raised voice, realizing that maybe you’re invested in the movie a little too much, “sometimes there is this line between two people, and it’s comfortable to stay behind it because you don’t want to lose them in case something goes wrong”. You draw an invisible line with your index finger between your bodies, and Hendery focuses his stare on it as if it was real. He looks lost in his thoughts, still frozen in place before shaking his head and murmuring: “I guess you’re right”.

Your comment, his response, the sex scene playing on the screen. It all made you so painfully alert with his presence that your whole body tensed up and your mouth dried up like it was filled with cotton. You both chuckle in the midst of all the steaminess, as the actor fails to drag his former best friend at the edge of the bed by tagging on her ankle.

“What a loser”, Hendery scoffs mockingly at the character’s mistake, and you turn around to give him a side eyed glare.

“Relax, muscle man. Like you would do it better”

He mocks offense by opening his mouth dramatically, and you giggle at the distortion of his face that still somehow managed to look pretty. It was so cute, how he always wanted to look ‘strong’ in the eyes of others, reliable and macho. You didn’t care about any of that, you thought his resolutions were stupid. He was perfect in your eyes.

“Of course I would! I’m strong, look-“

The disaster played out in front of you like a filmstrip. His hands on your ankle, then his own ankle tripping over the blanket on the floor, and finally the feeling of his chest weighing down over your own. With him pressed so close against you, you were sure he must feel the way your heart is thumping, filled with so many emotions that it’s ready to jump out of your body.

The room was cold, but with Hendery’s sudden body heat coating you, you felt like you were on fire. The fleeting thought of you taking off your clothes, to relieve yourself of the suffocating feeling made your cheeks burn even more. Hendery’s neck was exposed just inches in front of you in it’s full glory, and you thought about where those veins on the side of it, visible through his pale skin, ended. You’d gladly kiss along the path they drew, let your teeth leave little violet blossoms on the way, while you’d make mental notes of what kisses made him react the loudest.

It’s his bangs tickling your temples that made you realize that he is still on top of you. You look up into his eyes, expecting a frantic look, maybe a string of apologies leaving his mouth. He was strangely serene, staring at your own lips instead, and for a second you thought he’d finally mercy you and give you what you daydream about every time he comes around. You’d kill for the sight of him with puffy red lips and blown out pupils, messy just for you. You’d kill for the feeling of his tongue against your own.

When he plants a kiss on your right cheek, right over the corner of your mouth, you think it tastes bittersweet. You were still high on the intimacy when he finally apologizes and rips his body away from yours, your crash back down to reality brutal. The movie was still playing on a high volume, yet all you heard was a deafening silence after his trip. You don’t object when he tells you he has to go before you get to see what happens to the couple behind the screen. They were eating you away, all the things you wanted to say to him as you sent him off, so much more than just a ‘drive safe, text me when you get home’.

Those thirty minutes after you close your front door felt like a lifetime. You replayed the accident over and over again in your head, the skin burning where he kissed you. The thoughts of calling him, telling him to turn around and finish what he started, were so loud that you felt like a crazy person.

You certainly thought you went insane when you heard a knock against your door. Peeking through the peephole, you’re surprised to see that, as if you’d unlocked the secret of manifestation, Hendery was standing once again in your hallway.

“Guanheng? Did you forget anything?”

He looked restless and fidgety as he walked back inside your apartment, like he couldn’t wait to let out whatever was on the tip of his tongue. His shoulders were coated in a light layer of snow that had managed to flush his face, and dampen his hair and eyelashes as well.

“No- well- yes, I-“. He stopped himself mid sentence and sighed, and you let him collect his thoughts. He looked serious, the expression foreign on his usually bright features, yet the way he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration made butterflies fly in your stomach. “What did you say about that line between two friends again? When we were watching the movie?”

You blinked back at him in confusion, waiting for him to tell you that he’s joking, he just forgot his charger, and he’ll see you again when his company allows him to. But he doesn’t, so you start to roll the pendant he gifted you between your thumb and index, trying to calm yourself down.

“It keeps two people that are meant to be together apart, but there is too much at stake to cross it”.

You start drawing that invisible line again, the one that separates the miserable comfort of denying your feelings for him and everything you wish you were brave enough to pursue.

He would be brave for the both of you.

Hendery grabs your lifted hand, bringing it on the side of his neck before he crashes his lips against yours. You don’t hesitate in kissing him back, hungry for his lips that taste as sweet as you imagined them to. He hasn’t realized how impossibly close to his body he has brought you, not until his embrace gets so tight that your necklace pokes uncomfortably against his chest.

You suck on his bottom lip and he welcomes you with his tongue, the kiss getting so heated now that you can’t help but tug on his hair to keep you grounded. Shivering from your action, his hands are now sliding from your hips to your waist, following the curves of your body until he reaches the underside of your breasts. You mewl against his lips as his thumbs dig into their softness, discreetly trying to cop a feel through your cotton shirt.

A moan leaves your mouth, lewd and desperate as he swallows it with a kiss, and he rips himself off of you when it seems to reach his stomach. He looks disheveled, as if he woke up from an intense, lucid dream; panting, sweating, staring at you with those big puppy eyes.

“We- we shouldn’t. We are going too fast, right?” You nod in agreement at his question but you’re not really listening. You had your fingertips placed on his moving lips, and he identifies the metallic smell as the remnants of you fidgeting with your jewelry earlier. “I should take you to dinner first, to that one place you like so much”. Losing interest in what he is saying, the words being too distant and grey when he stood so deliciously in front of you, you mindlessly start to unbutton his shirt, fascinated with that mole over his collarbone and wanting to see more.

The fire your fingers spread against his skin, in the midst of the chilliness of your living room has him groaning under his breath, with a voice as low and sexy as in his good morning calls. You can practically see him throw all his inhibitions out the window when he kisses you again, pushing you with his body until your back finds the nearest wall. Hendery’s hands are far from gentle now, leaving bruises behind all the soft spots he kneads with his fingers.

“I want you”, you confess with a whisper as you rid him off his flannel for good, and you can’t stop yourself from tracing all the lines of his toned abdomen. You can feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest, its fast rhythm matching yours. You grab his hand to lead him to the carpet next to the Christmas tree that is blinking along with the lights that adorn it- you’re too impatient in your arousal to take him to your bedroom and he doesn’t protest.

Hendery lays you on your back, finding his place between your legs as you wrap them around his waist to bring him closer. You remove your hoodie and the sports bra you had on, his lips immediately latching onto one of your nipples. He circles his tongue around the bud, licking and sucking on it interchangeably until you’re a begging mess underneath him.

Tugging on the elastic band of his sweats, you urge him to get naked for you completely, and he removes the extra garments with a strong pull. His sex bouces out of its cotton constraint, red and throbbing and aching for you. It makes the heat that’s pooling on your lower stomach spread even further, and you wiggle your hips to remove your sweatpants as well.

There’s something about the frilly pink panties you’re wearing- the innocent design on your shapely body that ignites a carnal instinct in him. He wants to ruin you, mark you, make you his. The sound of fabric getting ripped has your eyes bulge out in shock. You’ve never seen Hendery so determined.

He falls on top of you again, leaving urgent kisses on your jawline as he rubs his hard member against your heat. It’s driving you insane, how he’s so close to where you want him but not quite there yet, and you tug his hair again to make him look at you.

“I wanna feel you raw”

And raw was how he’d give it to you. You feel his warm hand over your stomach, keeping you in place as he aligns himself with your entrance, and the pressure his tip’s already feeling has him cursing out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this”

He dips himself slowly into your pussy, careful not to stretch you uncomfortably much. His worried eyes are glued to your wide ones, reading your expressions to ensure they’re those of pleasure. And indeed they are, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he bottoms out fully, a symphony of both your moans filling the room.

He starts out with a steady rhythm, your pussy adjusting to his size with every calculated thrust. You’re getting drunk with the intimacy, with his smell that sticks to your skin and the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear. You feel addicted to it already, to the feeling of having him be a part of you, and as his growing desperation has him picking up his pace, yours makes you wish you could live in that moment forever.

“I don’t think I’ll last much longer”

”Neither do I”

He can tell how close you are, your heaving chest and guttural sounds giving you away. His cold fingers find your clit then, rubbing your sensitivity in messy circles and pumping more blood to the area.

“Yes, baby. Let go for me”

Little stars of various colors dance around in your vision, framing the sight of Hendery fucking into you so beautifully. You enjoy the hypersensitivity that the continuing motion of his hips gives you, locking your legs around his waist as his thrusts turn sloppy.

“Come inside me”

Just those simple words, slipping out of your pretty mouth are enough to send him over the edge, grunting as he paints your walls in ropes of white. You feel him twitching inside you for a good while, your belly bulging in fullness. It drips out of you slowly when he finally gets off of you, his hands spreading your thighs apart so that he can admire his creation.

He chuckles in disbelief of what you two just did, removing a piece of fake snow that somehow landed on your hair. You can only admire the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down, all the little curves and shadows on his neck, his smile that gives you tunnel vision.

“All this time…”, he whispers softly, “you liked me too?”

You silently winced at the naiveness of his words, knowing damn well your feelings ran way deeper than a simple attraction. Nodding affirmatively, you avoid looking at his eyes by pretending to play with his fingers. You can’t let him see the way they have glossed up, yet the numbing feeling of disappointment is getting hard to ignore.

He doesn’t let you distance yourself from him further, lifting your chin up so you can make eye contact with him again. To your surprise, he looks way more nervous than you, subconsciously nibbling on his lower lip. He takes a deep breath, mustering up some courage before verbally letting his thoughts out of his chest.

“What if I told you I am in love with you?”

You were shocked at the confession, so much so that this reality seemed like a figment of your subconscious mind. You expected to wake up at any moment, to find yourself asleep on your couch, two feet away from him and still stuck in the sucky friendzone. But that moment never came, no matter how long you held your breath to trigger your awakening, and you let it go with a sigh and a blurb of your own thoughts.

“I’d ask you to be mine”

[stardustprompts]

the poppy war - r.f kuang   sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :   drugs , death , murder , nsfw , prostitution mention , language

‘take off your clothes.’

‘why would anyone drug themselves before a test?’

‘you’re about to be a very lucky girl, sweet.’

‘wow that’s great. really great. Terrific.’

‘your folks are assholes.’

‘well fuck the heavenly order of things.’

‘don’t you have actual responsibilities?’

‘I don’t want to get on _____ ‘s bad side.’

‘you would make a terrible prostitute. no charm.’

‘what is so wrong with getting married?’

‘do you want to die?’

‘everything is spilling out of my head as quickly as I put it in.’

‘please do not commit spousal homicide.’

‘give me a way out of this shithole.’

‘hello, I’m praying.’

‘I seduced him with my nubile young body. you caught me.’

‘you can’t scare me into a confession, because I’m telling the truth.’

‘and that means you’re shit at your job.’

‘if you cross them—- if they even think you’ve looked at them funny—- they can and will hurt you.’

‘it’s easy to lose a language when you never speak it.’

‘you’re offending them with your very presence.’

‘they’ll make you an outsider, because you’re not like them.’

‘no matter what they say, you deserve to be here.’

‘I’ll kill you. I will fucking kill you.’

‘I went out in the sun once. you should try it sometime.’

‘oh, you’re the one ____ hates.’

‘you’d be a prick too if your family was both rich and attractive.’

‘honestly? I think he just comes in here to get high.’

‘I think you’re flattering yourself.’

‘unless you’ve got a weapon, don’t aim for the face. the neck’s a better target.’

‘we aren’t here to be sophisticated. we’re here to fuck people up.’

‘this is the only kick you’ll ever need, really. a kick to bring down the most powerful warriors.’

‘power dictates acceptability.’

‘he hasn’t done anything to earn my respect. all he’s done is act high and mighty.’

‘you’re nothing. you shouldn’t even be here.’

‘consider me bullied and intimidated, just let me sleep.’

‘he’s playing with her. he’ll end it soon.’

‘they’re good at fighting, but not much else.’

‘spend a lot of time looking at ____’s eyes do you?’

‘a betrayal of that sort would not have been out of character.’

‘come on, you belong here too.’

‘they’re not going to get rid of me like this. not this easily.’

‘I’m calm! I’m extremely calm!’

‘you’d rather kill your own people than let the opponent’s army walk away?’

‘you don’t let an enemy walk away if they’ll certainly be a threat to you later.’

‘he can’t stop raving about you.’

‘oh, don’t pretend to be bashful. you love it.’

‘you’re a walking disaster.’

‘anyone this obstinate deserves some attention, if only to make sure you don’t become a walking hazard to everyone around you.’

‘I heard he got drunk on rice wine last week and pissed into ____’s window. he sounds awesome.’

‘it’s me, your favorite person in the whole wide world.’

‘I do not have a problem. you are making up this problem for reasons unbeknownst to me.’

‘you’re killing the mood.’

‘they were weak as shit. scrawnier than you, even.’

‘you’re a real asshole. you know that right?’

‘your state of mind is just as important as the state of your body.’

‘sometimes you must loose the string to let the arrow fly.’

‘because I want to break his stupid face.’

‘he’s the most dangerous when he’s desperate.’

‘from this point on you’re just going to be a danger to yourself and everyone around you.’

‘you’re too reckless. you hold grudges, you cultivate your rage and let it explode, and you’re careless about what you’re taught.’

‘I knew I was the only one that could help him.’

‘they honed his rage like a weapon, instead of teaching him to control it.’

‘one urinating statue for my easily entertained friend.’

‘I don’t believe in gods. but I believe in power.’

‘one might say you’ve been obsessed with ____.’

‘don’t look to your left. pretend you’re taking to me.’ / ‘I am talking to you.’

‘we’re studying very weird things.’

‘I don’t actually know what I’m getting into.’

‘here is what happened: you called a god, and the god answered.’

‘you know that if you don’t get answers now, the hunger will consume you and your mind will crack.’

‘you’ve glimpsed the other side and you can’t rest until you fill in the blanks.’

‘supernatural is a word for anything that doesn’t fit your present understanding of the world.’

‘I’m supposed to take it as true that you’re a god?’

‘I’m not a god. I am a mortal who has woken up, and there is power in awareness.’

‘are we getting high? oh, wow. we’re getting high.’

‘ah. the law. so inconvenient. so irrelevant.’

‘we are not madmen. but how can we convince anyone of this, when the rest of the world believes it so?’

‘the price of power is pain.’

‘I understand the truth of things. I know what it means to exist.’

‘prey do not question the motives of the predator. the dead do not question the living. mortals do not challenge the gods.’

‘I killed for you. I would have done anything for you.’

‘I have seen the end of things. the shape of the world has changed.’

‘war doesn’t determine who’s right. war determines who remains.’

‘it’s alright. I know what you are.’

‘I thought I was the only one left.’

‘we have developed the power to rewrite the fabric of this world. if we don’t use it, then what’s the point?’

‘I don’t mess with that shit. it screws you up.’

‘I understand the appeal, I really do, but I like having my mind to myself.’

‘he’s a charmer. like a new puppy. you think he’s adorable until he pisses on the furniture.’

‘there’s no routine. no discipline. nothing you’re used to. am I right?’

‘so you’re the last of your kind. that’s sad.’

‘If you hold the fate of the country in your hands, if you have accepted your obligation to your people, then your life ceases to be your own.’

‘____ feared, and so he held you back.’

‘great danger is always associated with great power. the difference between the great and the mediocre is that the great are willing to take that risk.’

‘don’t ever let go on that anger. rage gives you power. caution does not.’

‘don’t give in... you’ve been so brave... but it takes more bravery to resist the power.’

‘the nature of this god is to destroy. the nature of this god is to be greedy, to never be satisfied with what he has consumed.’

‘so. screaming at rocks. is that, like, normal behavior here?’

‘fix this. prove your worth. do your fucking job or get out.’

‘I saved your life. doesn’t that make us at least a little square?!’

‘I was scared of you. and I lashed out.’

‘I thought I was better than you, and I’m not. I’m sorry.’

‘when I killed it, it felt like murder.’

‘look, I’m happy to discuss this, really, but I’m currently leaking life out three different wounds and I think I may pass out. would you give me a moment?’

‘well maybe ____ should get his head out of his ass.’

‘ ____ is more fragile than you think.’

‘look, asshole, I don’t need you to tell me what to do.’

‘they say he can read the future. shatter minds.’

‘you misunderstand the nature of our relationship. I am not your friend.’

‘he’s not human. he—- I don’t know what he is.’

‘but ___ was never allowed to be human.’

‘do you trust me?’ / ‘no. but that’s irrelevant.’

‘you don’t know what true suffering is.’

‘I have seen more than my fair share of suffering.’

‘that boy is beyond redemption. that boy is broken like the rest.’

‘I don’t want to be saved! I want power!’

‘that power will destroy everything you’ve ever loved. you will defeat your enemy, and the victory will turn to ashes in your mouth.’

‘we’ve missed something. something’s been laid out for us, but we can’t see it.’

‘fretting won’t make the dead come back to life.’

‘there was nothing human in those eyes.’

‘It was a nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up.’

‘I don’t need your pity. I need you to kill them for me.’

‘whatever it takes. swear it on your life. swear it for me.’

‘I won’t judge him. I don’t dare, because I don’t have the right. and neither do you.’

‘you asked me why I wouldn’t stop him. now you understand. you can’t stop an avenger. you can’t reason with a madman.’

‘I am afraid of what he might do in his quest for vengeance. and I am afraid that he is right.’

‘I am about to do something terrible. and you will have a choice.’

‘they give nothing to the universe, and the universe owes them nothing in return.’

‘you cannot survive my death.’

‘you’re trying to deceive me. you don’t get to deceive me.’

‘this is not the way. this path leads only to darkness.’

‘when are you going to stop being such a damn coward? what are you running from?’

‘you will turn the world to ash, and only demons will live in the rubble.’

‘you dress up your crusade with moral arguments, when in truth you would let millions die if it means you get your so-called justice.’

‘you have not cared about anything for a very long time. you are broken.’

‘I am terrified. but only because I’m starting to remember who I once was. don’t go down that path.’

‘your country is ash. you can’t bring it back with blood.’

‘I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you.’

‘you know the worst part? we’re so close to home.’

‘did you miss me? did you miss this?’

‘I just gave him some of his favorite medicine.’

‘resistance here means suffering. there is no escape. no future.’

‘you have nothing to fight for anymore’

‘what are you defending? you owe ____ nothing.’

‘we were disposable. we were tools. tell me that doesn’t make you furious.’

‘I am sick with fury.’

‘I will die on my feet. I will not die a coward. and neither will you.’

‘we could stay here. we could stay here forever. we wouldn’t have to go back.’

‘you’ll have to live with the consequences. but you’re brave ... you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.’

‘I have lost everything I care about. I don’t want peace, I want revenge.’

‘I don’t need to sleep. I need to feel nothing.’

‘do you want forgiveness? I can’t give you that.’

‘we avenged him. he’s gone, but avenged.’

‘you have to believe that it was necessary. that it stopped something worse. and even if it wasn’t, it’s the lie we’ll tell ourselves, starting today and every day afterward.’

‘aren’t you supposed to be a seer? do you ever see anything useful?’

‘we have an enemy whom we love.’

‘I’m going to find and kill everyone responsible. you cannot stop me.’

‘oh I’m not going to stop you.’

[sunrisefairy]

Secret moments

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader Summary: Sirius and reader are dating in secret and reader has had enough.  Warning: just a big of angst, mentions of sex (blink and you’ll miss it), swearing, mention of alcohol.

A/N: for @theweasleyslut writing challenge. Based off the prompts “There’s people here” “I know”

taglist: if your name is crossed out i couldn’t tag you @theweasleyslut @anxiousblanketqueen @accioweaslcy @widowdays @inglourious-imagines @garbdump @star-sunshine-sage @weelittleweasley @a-dusty-emerald @starlightkell @omghufflepuff @weasleyprincess @j-amespotter @gryffindorgirl @siriusbarnesslut @joytyce397 @layaaaa @thegirlinthelibrary​ @ch0colatefr0gs​ @weasleyyy​ @amourtentiaa​ @kaslupin

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A volcano. You can feel it; in the pit of your stomach, angrily bubbling and ready to erupt, to destroy whatever is in its path and right now that’s yours and Sirius’ relationship. If that’s what you can even call it. You and Sirius had been friends ever since first year when you charmed his quill to squirt ink on his robes whenever he picked it up. Young Sirius was equal parts embarrassed and stunned when he locked eyes with the pretty young witch sat at the front of the classroom who shot a smirk and a cheeky wink his way. To this day Sirius doesn’t think he’s blushed as hard as he did in that moment. Almost instantly you seamlessly slipped you way into a tight knitted friendship with Sirius and the rest of the marauders, the 5 of you hardly to be found separately. You seemed to gravitate towards the raven-haired boy the most though, Sirius rapidly became your best friend and the two of you were joined at the hip.

About 4 months ago, you and Sirius crossed the line from best friends to something more when you shared a heated kiss after a late-night study session. The two of you promised it was a one-time thing… it wasn’t. Months of sneaking around, stolen kisses behind closed doors, quick fucks between classes and private dates when the rest of the marauders had detentions. Your secret relationship with Sirius started off perfectly, neither of you wanted the rest of the world to know, you were content with this just being something you and Sirius shared in private but that was 4 months ago. And right now you were over it, over having to watch girls and boys flirt with Sirius right in front of you, over making up excuses as to why you don’t want to swap saliva with the tall Ravenclaw James tried to set you up with, over being Sirius private girlfriend.

Which led to this moment right now, in your dorm room, fighting. Your blood was boiling and pumping rapidly inside your veins after having to witness Sirius decline another date from a pretty Hufflepuff. The air felt thick and heavy as your voices raised higher and got louder, you could only hope your conversation couldn’t be heard from the common room below.

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you don’t want to tell anyone about us?” the words jab at Sirius’ heart strings almost hard enough to make him stand down and wrap his arms around your smaller frame and whisper how much he cares for you. But his emotions have the better of him and Sirius Black isn’t one to back down.

He scoffs, masking the sharp pain stabbing his chest whenever he sees you upset and the knife in his heart twists knowing he’s the one causing your pain, “of course not! Sorry for not wanting to parade my girlfriend around like a piece of meat.” His voice is thick with sarcasm.

“Oh yes I forgot,” you glare harshly at the boy in front of you, “clearly my memory has failed me because you definitely did not like parading Julianne Sommers around when you were dating her in 4th year and definitely did not suck her face off and grope the poor thing every chance you got. And don’t even get my started on Jonathon Michaels in 5th year, how that boy didn’t pass out from lack of oxygen is beyond me because you liked to make it very clear the two of you were dating. Don’t give me that bullshit excuse Sirius because I know it’s not true. You had no problem letting the world know you were dating them, so what’s so different about me?” Your chest feels heavy and you’re tired; tired of this, tired of playing pretend.

Sirius knows very well the true reason why he wants to keep your relationship a secret and it isn’t because he’s ashamed of you or scared of the friendly teasing James, Remus and Peter will be sure to send your way. It kills him to see other blokes talk about how fit you are and whenever he sees you, he just wants to walk right up and cup your cheeks and kiss you so deeply everyone knows you’re taken. But the truth is, he’s frightened. He’s frightened because he loves you so fucking much and he’s never loved anyone like this. He never thought of himself as a coward. Sirius gladly punched Samuel Stevens (who is twice Sirius’ size) in the nose after he pinched your arse in 5th year, he’s never once backed down from a fight when someone is teasing Remus and never fails to stand up for Peter and will always stand by James’ side. But ‘brave’ Sirius Black is scared of loving you, in particular Sirius is scared of everyone knowing he loves you. Sirius Black is a coward because he’s terrified that if people and merlin forbid you, know about his love then that will destroy the bubble the two of you have created. And if staying in this private bubble and keeping your relationship a secret is how he can keep everything together then he’ll gladly do it. Because he can’t lose you, he can’t risk you leaving him, the thought of everyone knowing petrifies him. He’s worried that it will taint your relationship.

Sirius chokes on his words, because I love you, he wants to say but he struggles to get them out, in fear of ruining what you have but it seems he’s doing that anyway when you leave the room and slam the door on your way out.

….

“Oh my ghosts! You look stunning babes,” Marlene wolf whistles and grips your shoulders to spin you around wanting to see your whole outfit. “You trying to impress anyone tonight hun?”

You have to crane your neck to hear her over the music pumping around the common room. “Nope, no one to impress.” You mutter sadly. It’s been over a week since your fight with Sirius. Neither of you have made the effort to apologise, although Sirius might have tried once or twice but you refused to be alone with the boy. You were angry and pissed and needed Sirius to realise that if he wanted you then it was all or nothing. You were tired of hiding.

“Well, who needs stupid boys anyway when we have each other!” Marlene declares dragging you to the drinks table to pour you some of the questionable looking punch.

Most of the night is spent dancing on the makeshift dance floor with Marlene, Mary and Lily; hips swinging and hair flowing, seemingly not a care in the world. It was just the distraction you were after, although you knew eventually you were going to see Sirius, given it was a party in the Gryffindor common room you couldn’t expect Sirius not to make an appearance.

“Nice to see the boys finally showed up,” Mary comments nodding her head in the direction of the stairs which lead up to the boy’s dorm. The 4 marauders come clambering down the stairs clearly ready to have some fun. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see Sirius, clad in a dark button up which he might as well not even bother wearing with how many buttons he has undone, half his muscly, toned chest on display. His dark locks fall lusciously against his shoulders and if you look closely you can spot some black eyeliner that makes his piercing grey eyes pop even more, he looks utterly gorgeous and your heart plummets into your stomach at the realisation of spending the reminder of the night watching him flirt with people that aren’t you.

You don’t even notice Sirius push his way through the crowd towards you until he’s towering over you. He’s standing so close that you can smell his aftershave, it’s both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. After a beat of the two of you staring at each other with no words you realise how close you are, way too close to convince everyone that you’re just friends. However, after the fight you aren’t 100% sure if you and Sirius are even still dating. Just as you’re about to take a step back from Sirius, he brings his hands to cup your face forcing you to look at him. Your eyes widen as you stare up at Sirius and notice the familiar glint in his eyes, you know that look and any hints of uncertainty were squashed when you catch the way his eyes flicker down to your lips. It feels as it time slows to a complete stop when Sirius leans down clearly trying to meet your soft lips.

Your hands fly up and press firmly against his hard chest, halting his movements. You frantically look around the room and notice multiple pairs of eyes watching you. “What are you doing? There’s people here y’know?” You question, Sirius must clearly be off his face, too intoxicated to register the room full of people watching your every movements. Surely, he pregamed a little too hard and fully believes it’s just the two of you in the common room because why else would he be standing here with his large hands caressing your face so gently?

Sirius smirks, little did you know there wasn’t one drop of alcohol in his body, however he was drunk on you. “I know,” he whispers so quietly it was almost swept away before connecting your lips together in a deep kiss.

Sirius’ lips have always felt like home; warm and soft and never failed to make butterflies and fireworks explode in your tummy, his kisses always made your head dizzy and knees weak. You couldn’t believe you had gone a full week without them, without him. The music around you fades into nothing, all you can focus on his Sirius lips and tongue and how they dance against yours and his hands as they travel from your face down to your hips, clinging onto you as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You let your own hands get tangled in his curly hair, determined to show him you don’t want him to go anywhere. Ever.

You find yourself chasing his lips when he finally pulls away, breathlessly. He chuckles at your movements and pecks your lips lightly twice before opening his eyes, he finds you already staring up at him confusion smeared all across your features.

“M’sorry for being a dick, I care for you so much baby and I was shit scared that if everyone knew about us then somehow it would ruin what we had and I’m terrified of losing you. But I realise now that I was throwing it all away by keeping you a secret, so I’m not going to do that anymore.” Sirius then looks over your head and nods at James. “Now Prongs,” James turns off the record player which causes a few people to groan at the loss of music. James gives Sirius a cheesy grin, you see Remus and Peter standing beside the bespectacled boy all 3 of them giving Sirius enthusiastic thumbs up.

You turn your attention back to Sirius who is now standing on top of the nearby table. You and the rest of the Gryffindor house all gawk the boy, uncertain what is about to happen.

“My darling Y/N, I want everyone here tonight to bear witness to what I’m about to say,” Sirius has always been dramatic and now was no expection. He clears his throat, raising his voice to ensure everyone can hear him, “Y/N L/N you are my everything and I love you. I’m sorry for being a complete tosser but it would make me a very, very happy man if you agree to be my girlfriend? Again.”

The smile that consumes your face is so big and bright it hurts your cheeks, you know you look like a proper sap but you don’t care, “get down here you big idiot so I can kiss you.” You motion for Sirius to join you again.

It was Sirius’ turn to grin as he jumps down from the table and makes his way towards you, “is that a yes then?”

You roll your eyes playfully at him, wrapping your arms around his waist, Sirius immediately wraps his around your shoulders giving them a light squeeze, “of course Sirius.”

Sirius doesn’t think his smile could get any bigger, well that was until he heard you mumble 4 words into his chest. He knew in that moment he was a complete goner for you. I love you too.

[watermelonlipstick]

Parking Lot

This is a love letter to the Dean who told Cassie everything about his life after knowing her for 2 weeks and who didn’t see What Is And What Should Never Be as a horror show until he saw his bond with Sam was gone. I don’t think it would work for a later seasons Dean, who had pretty conclusively abandoned this idea for himself. I’d love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Parking Lot

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3801

Summary: A parking lot quickie leads to an illuminating argument between Dean and the reader.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, angst, ~*idiots in love*~, fluff

           In a couple ways it seemed like a lesson; you really shouldn’t have been fooling around in a parking lot no matter how late at night it was. Especially not a bar’s parking lot, potentially more likely to be busy at this hour, shadows be damned.

           But it wasn’t all your fault, not by a long shot. Dean knew exactly what he was doing, getting a Manhattan rather than his standard straight bourbon just for the cherry, rolling it around with his tongue and licking his fingers of the juice while you waited for the guys you were playing pool against to shoot.

           If Sam had been there you might’ve been able to keep it together for politeness’s sake, but you didn’t give a shit about these people and you weren’t doing research for a case, just blowing off steam post-job before heading out of town in the morning.

           Two could play at Dean’s game, though, you arching your back deep into the table to make a shot and practically purring “your turn” when he was up, hovering close enough to see the goosebumps spread over his neck when he smirked and obeyed. He finished the game lightning fast with a string of laser-focused shots and you silently downed the rest of his drink as the guys ponied up, tossing thick folds of cash onto the table and shaking Dean’s hand. You didn’t even feel guilty for hustling them, partly for their ignoring you but mostly for the distraction of Dean’s hands reracking the balls and grabbing your coat, sliding a palm to your lower back with his pinky just barely under your waistband. It was all you could do to wait until you get to the back of the parking lot to shove him up against the Impala and bite his bottom lip almost too hard before slipping your tongue into his mouth.

           You felt the smile and heard the groan at the same time, both pouring into your mouth as you ripped at Dean’s jacket, trying to yank his flannel off his shoulders with it. You abandoned the project to paw at Dean’s tee once you’d gotten the outer layers bunched down around his elbows, kissing him hungry and dark like he was yours to take.

           One of Dean’s bitten off groans trailed off into a barely-there whimper. For all his posturing he loved this, when he could give up being predator and let go for a few minutes to be your prey. He didn’t start fumbling for the door handle until you flicked open his belt, his other hand clutching at a handful of hair at the back of your neck and kissing down your jugular fast and hard. Imagining the way Sam was going to roll his eyes at the hickeys only added adrenaline while Dean finally got the backseat door open, sliding you in and unfurling on top of you. Still working on his jeans, you dragged him tight between your legs.

           “You are—so—mean,” you grinned between kisses. “Teasing me like—that.”

           Dean’s eyebrows kicked up on his forehead, playing dumb like you knew he would. “Me? Never.” His act dropped the moment you finally got his fly open, wrapping your hand around his cock through his boxers and punching all the air out of his lungs. His head rolled back on his neck almost violently, impossibly long eyelashes grazing his cheekbones and lips parted around a breathy “fuck.”

           His switch flipped, Dean scrambled to strip you as fast as possible. You tried to help him in large part to avoid tearing your clothes, ending up crushed into the leather of the bench seat somehow with one leg fully out of your jeans and underwear, the other knee tangled up in the fabric. He’d shoved up your shirt and bra and it would’ve been uncomfortable and tight if any of your senses had been turned to it instead of Dean wetting his middle finger to slip-slide along your clit, murmuring something about “I love it when you do that,” into the side of your neck as he swirled circles into you. After a few moments you were writhing in the seat and Dean pulled that finger back up, sucking you off of it before pushing it up inside you, then another.

           “Fuck me, Jesus Christ Dean,” you moaned against his tongue, yanking him forward until he guided himself into you. The stunted warm-up helped but that first push was always a shock, and whatever sound you made was loud enough that Dean covered your mouth with his hand, grinning conspiratorially down over fingers still steeped in you as he thumped you into the car door.

           “Quiet—someone’s going to hear you.”

           You bit his hand and Dean yelped with a chuckle, pulling it back before you roped around his neck and kissed him lasciviously. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” you smirked.

           He stabilized himself against the Impala’s door to pound into you harder, you wrapping your legs around his waist and whisper-moaning filthy nothings into his ear, biting his neck until suddenly you felt that finely honed awareness pique in the back of your mind, flaring hot enough to burn and you froze, thighs clamped tight around Dean.

           “Baby, I—”

           “Don’t fucking move—did you hear that?” you hissed.

           Dean tried to pull back and tensed hard, shuddering into you as you tried to lift your head to see as surreptitiously as possible before the delayed processing hit you. When you looked up at Dean he didn’t meet your eyes, wincing over one shoulder with his arms still planted.

           “Tell me you didn’t,” you whispered.

           He was silent for a half-second, still didn’t meet your eyes. “I tried t—you fucking death-gripped me with your legs, what was I supp—”

           “Oh my god, get off of me,” you yelped, trying your best to sit up and snatch at anything to clean yourself up before realizing it was useless. “FUCK! Fuck, Dean, fuck, what’re we going to—I can’t be—”

           He leaned back into the seat to get back into his jeans and fasten his belt. “One thing at a time, okay? They’ve got like pills and stuff right? We don’t even know if it’ll take.”

           You rolled your eyes angrily at him as you jammed your leg back into your jeans. “Our fucking luck it’s already triplets.” You ran a hand through your hair and took a deep, hard breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

           “No, I get it.” He slumped into the seat next to you. A long beat passed, you and Dean both sitting stupid, half-dressed in jeans and untied boots, hair all over the place. He cleared his throat. “Wanna head out?” His voice was small and rough; you knew he was sorry and maybe a little embarrassed. If you were more highly evolved you might’ve been able to console him more in that moment, but your heart was bounding through your chest about what was going to happen next—if. You managed to squeeze his hand in solidarity if nothing else before grabbing your stuff and moving to the front seat.

           Minutes of silent road passed before Dean reached over and covered your knee with his hand. You capped it with one of yours and saw his lips twitch up at the corner in response.

           He glanced over at you tentatively. “Maybe it uh, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you know?”

           Your incredulity spun you around in your seat so you were fully squared to him. “What?”

           It was dark in the car but you thought maybe Dean’s cheeks started to look pink. “I don’t know, teaching a little squirt how to play catch or whatever, might be cute.”

           “You cannot be serious.”

           His eyes flicked back over to you and his lips pursed out, trying to look non-plussed. “Whatever. Just trying to make you feel better.”

           “No, you’re not. Because that exact possibility is scaring the shit out of me right now and two minutes ago you were trying to convince me we were going to pill this away. So it’s—is that something you want? Having a kid someday?”

           Dean took his hand back under the guise of using two hands to turn the steering wheel.  “No.”

           You waited, willed your own heartbeat to slow down. As you knew he would, Dean kept talking, keeping his eyes on the road more to avoid the vulnerability of looking in your eyes rather than out of necessity on the long, straight stretch of road. “I don’t know. It really seems that bad to you? Having something that’s really, like, ours? Just you and me?”

           “We’re not talking about a something, Dean, we’re talking about a fucking kid.”

           “Jesus, fine, forget it. Sorry I asked.”

           His knuckles went white on the steering wheel and underlined that Dean Was Done Talking. What an absolute waste of a fun little night out, leaving Sam to have a couple hours alone. Now instead of getting back looser to a well-rested Sam, you were going to barrel into this crappy motel terrified with a pissed off Dean, dropping it all at the younger Winchester’s feet to deal with (again).

           It took you until the motel parking lot to muster up the courage to touch Dean’s wrist. “Can we talk for a second?” Dean pretended to be annoyed but you could tell it was an act shielding a spot of tenderness. He flopped his hands in his lap and looked over at you expectantly. “Maybe it’s dumb to even talk about this; like you said, it might be nothing. But I just—I mean if—do you really want that? What would that even look like? Not even with me or whatever obviously but leaving hunting, leaving Sam—”

           “Leaving Sam? Who said anything about leaving Sam?”

           “You volunteering him as nanny?”

           Dean sort of half-rolled his eyes and shifted to face you. “You know as well as I do that Sam doesn’t want to be doing this, not forever. I’m not saying we should be fucking trying, obviously, I’m just—I’m going to stick around no matter what happens. I wouldn’t ditch you with my mistake.”

           You scoffed. “How noble.”

           “Not like that. But I’m not a complete moron, I know we’ve played with fire a couple times and I know what I’m doing.”

           “I guess I just figured that was heat of the moment stuff.”

           A flash of something passed over his face, gone almost too fast for you to decipher. Offense? Sadness? “Yeah, part of it. But you—you’ve never even thought about it?”

           “Thought about how I’d get a couple hundred dollars and find a clinic, yeah. I—we can’t be hunters with a baby. And I won’t be stashed in some safe house somewhere, see you and Sam for a day or two every couple months, be the loner single mom who can’t tell anyone anything about her life.”

           “Single mom? I’m not a fucking deadbeat. I just said I wouldn’t make you deal alone.”

           You shot him an exasperated look and took a deliberate breath to keep from rising to the bait. “So what, now you want to get married? Dean, I’m not even really your damn girlfriend.”

           He reached for the handle fast enough that you had to scramble across the seat after him, Dean pausing in the open door. “Look, if it’s not what you want, that’s fucking fine. But don’t patronize me. Not my fucking girlfriend? Fuck you.”

           You flew across the Impala and out of the passenger door, following Dean as he stormed across the asphalt. “Fuck me? How are you mad at me?”

           He spun on his heel in the parking lot. “I tell you I’m willing to leave all of this—all of everything I really know, fucked up as that is—for you, would make you my whole future and you, you—your response is that you’re not even my girlfriend? Yeah, fuck you.”

           “Dean, that’s not what I—” but he had already started storming back to the room. “DEAN!” you yelled, standing stock still in the middle of the lot. He paused with his back to you for what felt like a long second before turning back around. “I don’t want to bring this back to Sam. I’m sorry, okay? I’m just—I’m scared shitless about something that might not even happen and then you spring the idea of some shotgun wedding on me—”

           He rolled his eyes without even a hair of humor, the muscles in his jaw tensing hard enough to catch the cold overhead light. “See, how can you—” he started, before taking a deep, deliberate breath and starting over in a tone that was forced calm. “That’s everything I ha—that’s all I can give you, is loving you and fucking being there for you. So if it’s that fucking cheap or skanky to you then I’m sorry for wasting your fucking time.” When you didn’t respond his spine straightened a few degrees. “What? Say something. Tell me how stupid I am for suggesting that being tied together might not ruin your fucking life.”

           You felt that your mouth had fallen open but didn’t care. “You love me?”

           Dean’s face contorted like he was looking at a mirage of something bizarre, curious and disbelieving and frustrated. “I lo—of course I love you, what the fuck?”

           “Y—you’ve never said that to me.”

           “What? Yes I have.” His voice softened a shade, the certainty his anger had afforded him beginning to slip away like sand at high tide, but his eyebrows stayed indignant.

           You’d never been more certain of anything in your life, that Dean had never said that, because it was something you wanted constantly. Craved, even. Were kept awake at night by; the desire to have your feelings for Dean reciprocated too intense even to dream about. So you justified and bargained with yourself: if fooling around and this kind of casual commitment—girl who would cover him and Sam in a firefight and didn’t hound him for a label—was what he wanted, it was what you would give. Anything for more time with him or the chance to kiss those lips, to see the way he looked first thing in the morning, to get annoyed at his bullshit idiosyncrasies.            

           “No, you haven’t.” So many more words tried to burst forward from you that you had to bite your lip to be sure your mouth stayed closed.

           Dean held your eyes, willing you to say something until he lost his patience. “Who says that stupid shit all the time anyway? You know I love you; I’d do fucking anything for you.” His voice had started to rise again but the heat behind it was some sort of hungry desperation, not hurt rage. “I’m—you don’t think I love you?”

           You started to feel completely exposed by the industrial light, seared alive by green eyes. Shifting your weight from foot to foot didn’t help, and you fought angrily against the lump forming in your throat.

           He looked over his shoulder and the barked “FUCK!” startled you despite yourself. “Kid, I—FUCK, that’s what this is? I loved you since that first fucking hunt in Cleveland! You really think I’m just…? This isn’t some Beaver Cleaver ‘I put you in a family way’ bullshit, I—I don’t know, I just, with you it feels like for the first time maybe it’s not insane to think that I could—that we could—whatever, man, I’m not fucking talking about this.” A hand shot up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tic you recognized immediately.

           You took two big steps toward him. “Dean, I just—I didn’t know. That’s—I mean I’m not going to say I’ve been thinking about it; but it—it’s more because I didn’t even think it was on the table, you know? I thought we were, I don’t know, really close friends that sleep together.”

           Dean’s eyebrows flew up his forehead and he blew an almost-laugh out of his nose. “I don’t even know what to say to that. Never heard of any friends that live together and fuck raw.” His tongue slid along his molars and he sucked his teeth looking down at the ground, flicker of a despondent, self-deprecating smile twitching his lips. “Uh, noted, I guess. Sorry I misunderstoo—” and his eyes on the blacktop prevented him from seeing you cross the few strides between you, catching him off guard when you kissed him hard enough to bruise, hard enough to feel everything you wanted to say, wanted to scream (at him, from the rooftops, ohmygodhelovesme) take a backseat for a moment. He grunted at the impact, stunned for a half-beat before surging forward into you, wrapping into your hair and pawing at your hips with desperate effort to get closer. Feeling the grin against your mouth, you wished you weren’t standing in the absolute middle of the parking lot, frenzy to have something to push each other against building to a fever pitch inside you when Dean tugged your hair back to look at your face.

           He looked downright pornographic; swollen, flushed pout and impossible lashes framing bedroom eyes Marilyn or Sophia would’ve envied. A washing of cockiness only amplified the effect, those pillowy lips pulling into a lazy smirk. “So is this a really-close-friends kiss or what? Trying to figure out how much tongue I’m supposed to slip you.”

           You giggled good-naturedly, letting the weight of your head press into his palm. “You are such an asshole.”

           “Yeah, you fuckin’ love it.” He sucked on that sweet pulse spot under your ear deeply, some accessory movement with his tongue enough to make you see stars and miss that it was you letting out that ungraceful whine-moan. When Dean spoke the air passing over your spit-slick neck exploded in goosebumps. “And I love you.”

           Dean kissed you in that searching, delicious, eat-you-alive way he sometimes did after a particularly victorious hunt when he either had all the time in the world or didn’t give a fuck about making it; soothing-probing with a little edge of danger that hypnotized you. It pulled at the sweater of your being and tugged, steady and cloying until you were something loose and ephemerous in Dean’s hands, something equally likely to float away or explode right there in that parking lot, clearing a hundred miles in every direction and leaving behind only the imprint of your craving for him. It’s a miracle your brain was able to function at all. In the best circumstances this flayed you open and coming on the heels of having the most beautiful gift you could imagine dropped at your feet—Dean loves you, he loves you and always has—it felt like it could stop your heart and you wouldn’t care.

           “I need about twenty minutes in a cold shower or I promise I’ll knock you up right the fuck here,” Dean growled, low with sin directly into your ear.

           You laughed breathily. “I thought you said that might be a good thing.”

           His chuckle was rough as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. He rested there for a moment before murmuring into your hair. “You really thought we were just messing around?”

           “Dean, come on, I—don’t make me say it.”

           “Say what?”

           You swallowed shakily, tried to get a handle on your thoughts through the endorphins. “You—I—I’ve had it bad for you, thought if I really like, acknowledged it that it might fuck up what I did get to have of you or that some commitment would freak you out or whatever so I just—I don’t know, tried to be cool about it. Obviously we’ve always been kind of ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ when we were apart—”

           Dean cut off your rambling. “Uh, has there been something you’ve been ‘don’t tell’-ing? I wasn’t ‘don’t ask don’t tell’-ing.”

           “You haven’t?” you asked, surprised enough to be knocked off your nebulous trail of thought.

           “No, I mean—no. You would’ve been fine with that?” The disbelief was so clear on his face it was practically casting a glow around him.

           “Not fine with it—of course not—the thought of it kept me up nights, but I didn’t you to think I was some jealous freak.”

           A smile spread over his face slowly, butter on hot toast. “So you would’ve been jealous?”

           “I was jealous, I thought that’s what was happening.”

           Dean’s head lolled back on his neck a few degrees, smirk cementing itself in place. “That’s kinda hot.”

           It took the tension out of the moment and you chuckled under your breath, glancing down at your feet. “Yeah, you would say that right now, psycho.” It was breathy and shaky but Dean let you have it, throwing his elbow around your neck affectionately and tucking you into his side. With a kiss to the crown of your head, he started you both walking to the room lazily. At the door, you stilled him as he reached for the knob.

           “Would you really want to keep it? Like, no bullshit, if that’s the situation, that I’m actually—you know, you wouldn’t want me to…?”

           He licked his lips and bit the bottom one. They parted for a moment before he began to speak as his gaze flicked between your eyes. “Babe,” he finally breathed, and there was a note of croak there. “I’m in this for the long haul. If that’s where we’re going then we’ll deal with it. If you don’t—if you’re not there, I get it, but for me, I—yeah. If it’s going to be anyone for me, it’s you.”

           “Even now?”

           “I could think of worse things. Worse things have happened to me this week, probably.”

           There were so many follow up questions running through your mind, so many rock-solid certainties that Dean wouldn’t really be able to quit hunting, that even figuring out how to go to an OB-gyn on fake IDs was likely to be more complicated than either of you realized, but his lack of hesitation was so sweet, so earnest, and you were still riding that he loves me high. And you might’ve gotten lucky; it might be nothing, no parking lot baby to contend with, just a tense reminder to be more careful next time. It was easier than you might’ve thought to give yourself permission to relish it for the night, consequences be damned.  

-

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[neighborhood-houseplant]

Damian Wayne x Reader

__________

♡ Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

♡ Relationship Status: Dating

♡ Type: Fluff

♡ Requested: @yourcatcoffeeaddictfan

♡ Gender: Female Reader

♡ Prompt: "It's time to get up."

♡ Au: Normal Au

♡ Warnings: There's nothing sexual going on, but both Damian and the Reader are 18.

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____________

The morning rays cracked through the gap in the curtains, shining on the two people lying in bed. Birds chirped, and flew around, beginning their days. Damian and (Y/n) lay in their bed, still fast asleep in a tangled mess of limbs. Subconsciously pulling (Y/n) closer to his shirtless frame, Damian lowly groaned as a buzzing noise filled the bedroom. Sighing in annoyance, the male attempted to turn off the noise.

Gently removing his arms from her waist, Damian rolled over and reached for his phone, charging on the bedside table, hastily turning off the alarm. Sighing, he ran his hands through his messy locks, attempting to somewhat fix his bedhead. His eyes trailed over towards (Y/n) who was still fast asleep, burrowing herself deeper into the blankets. 

Moving closer to her, Damian lightly shook her shoulder, a fond smile on his face. "Beloved, It's time to get up," he spoke, his voice a little raspy, having just woken up. However, only receiving a groan in response from the girl. Continuing to shake her shoulder, the girl finally turned towards him. Rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake herself up a bit more. 

Lightly groaning, she looked at him with a quizzical expression. Smirking at her lightly, he spoke. "It's time to get out of bed." Letting out a playful and dramatic groan, she flopped herself back onto the mattress. Damian rolled his eyes, getting out of bed, lightly hissing when his feet hit the cold floors. Opening the bathroom door, he glanced back to (Y/n). 

Seeing her begin to go back underneath the covers, he spoke up. "Beloved, I'd better not find you in bed." Smiling in satisfaction as he watched her get out of bed, a very annoyed look on her. Entering the bathroom, she washed her face with cold water, hoping to wake herself up a bit more. "We're going over to Grayson's later." The male glanced at her, waiting for an answer. "Yeah, I know."

Walking back into the bedroom, (Y/n) opened the closet, pulling out one of Damian's turtle necks, some jeans, as well as her socks and undergarments. Quickly changing into the clothes, she rolled her shoulders to wake them up. "At least we get to skip training today," she mumbled, hoping Damian hadn't heard her. Arms wrapped around her waist as Damian rested his head on top of hers. 

"Unlikely." He spoke, having obviously heard her. His eyes trailed to the top she was wearing. "Beloved, why are you so insistent on taking my clothing?" Damian asked, "Do you want me to stop?" (Y/n) responded, glancing into his emerald green eyes. "No, you look ravishing in my clothing." He mumbled. Humming in response, (Y/n) finally took notice of the lack of a shirt on Damian. "You should get changed, Dami."

"I suppose." He mumbled, rummaging through the cupboard, pulling out his own clothes and shooing (Y/n) away, as she laughed, shutting the door behind her. Sliding down the railing, she hopped off, entering the kitchen to make breakfast for two of them and Titus. Washing her hands, she dried them and began to cook. First filling up Titus's food and water bowls. Deciding on just making the toast. Adding a few strawberries to both the plates, as well as some tea, since Damian wasn't the biggest fan of coffee.

Just as (Y/n) finished setting the table, and putting out Titus's food, Damian came downstairs, Titus following right behind him. Lightly kissing her temple, Damian sat down. "Thank you for making breakfast." He paused to take a sip of his tea. "It was delicious." (Y/n) grinned at him, silently thanking him for the compliment. 

After this, (Y/n) collected the plates and mugs. Damian offered to help with washing the dishes before they headed out. Scrubbing away at the dishes,  (Y/n) finally finished rinsing out the dishes, handing them to Damian who dried them off. Finally drying their hands, the two walked towards the front door, where their shoes were. 

Putting on their shoes, (Y/n) placed her hand on the doorknob, stopping as Damian piped up. "Beloved, I believe you are forgetting someone important." Turning around to look at him, with an irritated expression, she spoke. "We are not bringing Titus." Watching as Damain recoiled in horror. "And what is the reasoning for that." An equally irritated expression adorned his features. "We're only going to be gone for a few hours Damian, he'll be fine."

"And how would you possibly know that?" He glanced at her, awaiting a response. Rolling her eyes at him, (Y/n) grabbed her phone and keys and exited through the front door. Flabbergasted at the gesture action, Damian quickly petted Titus goodbye and grabbed his things before leaving and locking the door behind him.

(Y/n) was already in the car, in the passenger seat scrolling through her phone, and could do little to stop the small smirk that played its way onto her face when Damian finally got in the car. An annoyed scowl set on his face. Starting the car as the two pulled out onto the driveway, still very annoyed. "We could have taken Titus with us." He grumbled out when he realized that (Y/n) wasn't going to fall for his petty attitude. Gently placing her hand on the one he wasn't using, (Y/n) gently smiled at him. "Titus will be fine, we'll be back home soon anyway." 

Letting out a defeated sigh, Damian kept his eyes on the road, rubbing circles on (Y/n)'s palm as she was doing something uninteresting to him on her phone. She would occasionally look up from her phone when Damian pointed out something that had changed since the last time they'd come here. Soon, the neighborhood they pulled into became familiar. Making a final turn, Damian parked the car in Dick and Kori's driveway, turning off the engine but slightly frowning when he let go of (Y/n)'s hand.

Walking up to the front door, (Y/n) rung the doorbell, and not long after Kori opened the door. Pulling (Y/n) into a hug, Kori said gleefully. "(Y/n), it's been too long!" quietly laughing as she pulled back from the hug, as Kori turned to Damian. "Hello Damian." She smiled at him warmly as he waved uninterested. "So, where's Dick?" (Y/n) asked, peering over Kori's shoulder.

"I would also wish to know the whereabouts of Grayson." Damiam piped up. "I actually left him in the kitchen, he's making dinner." She spoke with a worried look on her face. A string if curses left the kitchen, which the three heard. Realization dawned on Kori's face, as she opened the door wider. "It's pretty cold outside, please come in." Thanking her, (Y/n) grabbed Damian's hand and dragged him into the house with her.

For the next few hours, Kori and (Y/n) engaged in conversations that were either beyond Damian's understanding, or his interest. For the most part, he was on his phone, reading something in Arabic but he was grateful that (Y/n) would try to involve him in their conversations, even if he was giving one word answers. Soon, Dick called them into the to eat, as the three sighed, finally happy to eat something.

Upon entering the dining room, the three glanced at the food that was spread out. Half of it looked over cooked, while the other half appeared to be undercooked. Kori and (Y/n) tried their best to be polite, thanking Dick for making the wonderful food, however this wasn't the case for Damian. "What is this rubbish?" As he glared at the food in complete disgust. "The only thing that doesn't look burnt is the salad." He crossed his arms.

Delivering a swift kick to his shin from underneath the table, (Y/n) interrupted him. "It looks lovely Dick, thank you for making the food." Glaring at Damian. From there, Kori and (Y/n) forced down the food, as to not hurt Dick's feelings. Whereas Damian completely refused to eat anything. When the food was finished, the four were ingaging in some light conversation.

"So (Y/n)," Dick began, as (Y/n) glanced at him, awaiting his question. "Can you cook?" He asked. "I guess so, not anything too complicated though." She quietly laughed when Damian rolled his eyes and spoke up. "You give yourself too little credit, Beloved. I'm sure you could cook much better than Grayson and Kori" Watching as Kori feigned mock offense, however Dick was quiet the opposite.

"Well, I bet Kori is much better than (Y/n) at a lot of things," he narrowed his eyes in Damian's direction. "Do you wish to name those things?" Damian glared back with just as much intensity. "Yes, just take how strong Kori is." Dick said gesturing to his girlfriend, as Damian scoffed at him. "My Beloved could rival Kori's strength effortlessly." "But she can't fly can she?" Dick responded, adding fuel to the fire.

Both Kori and (Y/n) both made uncomfortable eye contact, watching the two males argue back and forth. Kori gestured for them to slip away, as they both got up but Dick and Damian were too invested in their argument that the two didn't notice. Back in the living room, the two females sat there in silence for a moment before bursting out into fits of giggles and laughter. As their laughter died down, (Y/n) spoke up.

"I'm really sorry about Damian." As Kori shook her hand in dismissal. "Its alright, Dick is just as bad." As (Y/n) nodded in response. The two decided to play a game of card to pass the time. Roughly an hour in, Damian came in and looked around the room. Once he'd spotted (Y/n) he grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the house. "We're leaving, I refuse to be around to Grayson's utter stupidity." Quickly waving goodbye to Kori, she let Damian drag her into the car.

"You seem mad, huh?" (Y/n) stated in a teasing tone of voice. Rolling his eyes and refusing to look at her, Damian continued to drive. Once again grabbing the hand that he wasn't using, (Y/n) began to trace small shapes on his knuckles with her fingers. It was a silent attempt to calm him down, which more often than not, worked. Letting out a sigh, Damian spoke. "Thank you." Humming in response, (Y/n) continued to play with his fingers.

At something during the car ride, (Y/n) stopped tracing shapes on Damian's hand, he turned to glance at her, smiling in content as he noticed that she'd fallen asleep. He was thankful to have her, even if he didn't often show it. That was the exact reason he'd fired up when Dick tried to compare her to Kori. It was nights like this, he was grateful he could experience.

"Good night, Beloved."

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How was that? I hope you liked it!

- Pinky

[shirophantomvox]

Leorio, Hisoka, Illumi, and Chrollo Head Canons #2

What’s up y’all! Thank you so much to the people who have given me feedback about what posts you all would like to see! This post will be about the “Adult Trio” and Leorio about how they would help their significant other with a subject in college. This one is a good suggestion! I’m going to incorporate fluff in this, as I am a sucker for fluff. I hope you all enjoy this! I most certainly do. This post is about 2687 words but don't worry, it's worth the read! These head canons came from my mind its a coincidence that some of these pictures match the thoughts. Portentous (old English) means wonderful or marvelous (in modern English) FYI: I am thinking about creating a discord server for both Voltron and Hunter x Hunter fans. I don’t know how to use the fancy perks of discord yet, so if you know how to and can help me out, send me a message! Alright, let’s get to it! Obviously these images are from Pinterest.

Discord Server for Voltron and HxH fans!

Leorio

“Mr. Leorio”, as we all know, is a sharp guy. He dresses in a suit, carries a suitcase, and wants to be a doctor. This man knows everything about academics, especially math and science. He will need to know these subjects to be a successful medical doctor.

Leorio received an A- in Calculus II and a B+ in Organic Chemistry. He was the only one that passed with flying colors while everyone else barely made it. He didn’t gloat in their faces but as soon as he got into the hallway he jumped for joy.

He was extremely happy about his progress and counted the days until graduation even though that was in 5 years. Wow! Don’t we love graduate school?!

He deserved the high grades because he spent countless nights studying missing parties, football games, and being with you just to make sure he was on the right track to graduating on time.

As we all know, Leorio wanted to pursue this career because he witnessed his best friend dying in front of him powerless to save him. The care for his friend would have been too expensive. Obtaining his degree was in honor of his friend; he’d save countless children, women, and men who’d all thank him for his hard work.

Leorio didn’t socialize much, but he did find himself hanging around a group of classmates that were a part of a co-ed fraternity that provided information on scholarship money for graduate school and job opportunities. This is where he met you. You didn’t want to be a doctor but instead wanted to be a computer scientist and decided to volunteer for this fraternity job fair.

As he rejoiced, his smile faded when he saw you walking down the hallway; tears falling from your face not caring who stared at you. He quickly walked up to you, put his arm around your back, and gave you a soft hug.

“What’s the matter,” he asks.

You were failing Calculus, a class you’ve been taking since the 12th grade but for some reason, you couldn’t pass it. Everyone else had A’s and B’s, while you had a D. D’s aren't accaetable in college; most make you retake the class.

“Don’t worry. I’ve just passed my midterm. I can help you study. You’ll pass; trust me.”

Later on that evening, he kept his promise but gave it a unique twist. He kept the lights off and lit 4 Yankee-sized candles in the room that smelled like Lavender. In the background, he had piano jazz playing on his speaker. You felt confused for a moment. You and Leorio weren’t necessarily dating but you both flirted with each other here and there. He wasn’t a social butterfly, but he felt comfortable talking to you.

“Um...what’s the music for?”

“It helps me concentrate. Believe it or not, it helps my brain flow. You like it don’t you?”

“No, actually I don’t.” Truth be told you loved it but you wanted to pull his strings a little. He looked up with a confused look.

“Ok. I’ll turn it off.”

“I'm kidding! It’s great!”

Whenever he cannot solve a Calculus question, he reviews similar problems from Algebra II. He applies this knowledge to your problem.

“Perform the indicated function evaluations for f(x)=3−5x−2x^2 . I’ll solve the first part for an example: f(6+t) simply means you will exchange “x” for 6+t. It will look like f(6+t)=3-5(6+t)-2(6+t)^2=-49 . You’d distribute -5 and -2 to the numbers inside of the brackets in which they are next to.”

Wow, that was easy! Wait, not he must think you’re stupid.

“You must think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

“Of course not! It took me a while to understand it too. You’ll apply the same knowledge for the rest.”

After what seemed like 4 hours (which was 2), you finally finished your homework! It was probably wrong but at least you made it past the 1st question! As you blew out the candles and turned on your LED lights instead, you see Leorio sleeping on your couch. Something about his soft face made you smile and place your hand over your heart.

“My little doctor,” you whispered to yourself.

“Well, come give this doctor some company then. I’m freezing over here!”

The throw blanket was large enough for you both. Snuggling on the couch was a great end to a stressful day.

Chrollo

To everyone else Chrollo was “Boss” or “Boss Man” but to you, he was Chrollo. Big C was known for his love for poetry and language.

He read poetry any chance he had at lunch and even dinner. It had gotten so bad that you had to tell him for the millionth time “No books at the table!”

Given his past, he always read at least 2 hours a day or one book a week. Reading is what got him through the day.

He was staying in your dorm for the day to relax because he had taken and passed his midterms to. The young thief thought about hiding in the closet but he didn’t because he sensed that you’d be tense because of midterms.

As you walked through the door, you looked angry, so angry that you could punch a wall. He immediately rose to his feet, threw his arms straight out in front of him, and motioned for you to stop. You just stared at him blankly.

“Come here,” he said like you, on cue, melted in his arms. He was warm and the deepness of his cooing voice vibrated against your neck. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m failing this stupid Shakespeare class!”

“Really?”

“Yes and if I don’t pass this midterm I’m going to fail the class for the 3rd time. I want to drop out! Who needs this scam anyway?!”

Chrollo held you a bit longer until you were ready to sit down and get to business. You pulled out your college’s book about Shakespeare plays and how he used Old English. Chrollo was the perfect man for the job! He’s read Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet several times!

Chrollo read a few stanzas and explained them. He then had you read some on your own and explain them...still you can’t.

He notices the problem immediately. He catches you snuggling comfortably against his toned arm, nearly falling asleep.

Chrollo laid at the very corner of the couch as you lay horizontally placing your head against his chest. You were comfortable but you weren’t able to focus. He notices this and slightly demands that you go sit at the table. When it came to academics, he was serious.

For as long as he had been reading, he has an arsenal of vocabulary words ready to be of use. He created flashcards for you and had you flip them over for nearly an hour. You start to memorize the words!

But you’re not done yet.

“Say the word ‘portentous’.”

“Por-ten-trious…?”

“No. Por-ten-tas.”

“Tias…?”

He moved his chair next to you, just an inch away from your face. He cups your mouth and moves it as he speaks again. This wasn’t a hard clutch, it was soft and he wasn’t irritated but he could sense that you were becoming irritated.

“Por-ten-tas,” he said again.

Instead of letting your cheeks go, his eyes diverted to your lips. They were moist and plump, ready to be met by his.

“Your lips are gorgeous. Kisseth me quite quaint.”

Oh no. Look at the monster you’ve created.

Chrollo created a reward system. Whenever he did things right as a child, he was rewarded with money and jewels. For every word you pronounced and defined correctly, he kissed you once. For each word you got correct in a row, he’d kiss you twice.

Soon enough he had kissed you so much that you couldn’t see straight!

The kisses worked because you passed your midterm! Each kiss placed a stain in your brain that made you remember the definition and how to pronounce it.

You and Chrollo celebrated by drinking champagne and listened to him read Sonnet 23 and 57.

Hisoka

As unusual as it seems, Hisoka is gifted when it comes to Chemistry specifically. That is why you two work well together...there is some chemistry going on between you two.

His hair down and his glasses were his alter ego, it was something that made him act completely different than what you were used to.

When you all were freshmen, he would skip class, attend parties, and would be hungover almost every week but once he was called into the Dean’s office, he changed.

You slightly missed that edgy side of him, but you enjoyed having a serious beau.

Hisoka is a social butterfly and is the life of the conversation and you loved him for it but sometimes it was awkward.

While he was chatting away about Calcium (Ca) and Iron (Fe), you stood there nodding like an idiot. You had NO IDEA about what he was talking about and that is why you were going to drop your chemistry class.

“I saw an imbecile put aluminum foil in the microwave and it burst into flames. How did they not know that Microwaves are the radio waves falling under frequency around 2500 megahertz? Any metallic object detected by radio waves inside the microwave acts as a reflector of radio waves.”

You shove his arm hard. He was acting arrogant in front of his friends. You were used to this but it got on your nerves. You made mistakes, everyone does!...even those that almost burn down the entire dorm room.

You two leave the party and head to his dorm room. Once you were settled, you released a can of anger and threw it all over your boyfriend.

“Hisoka? You just humiliated me.”

“Oh? No one knows that I was talking about you, my dear.”

“Don’t ‘my dear’ me! I asked for your help and you’re ignoring me. I don’t appreciate that. I didn’t ignore you when you sprained your ankle, did I?”

“No, you didn’t, dear. I supposed I have a few hours to kill. What do you need help with?”

Hisoka’s way of studying was much different from other students. He exercises like crazy before he opens his textbook.

He listens to EDM instrumentals while on the treadmill and when he lifts weights. You weren’t standing there like a trophy, he made you lift too.

“Being healthy will help your brain flow more easily. Lift this dumbbell as heavy as you can.”

He ran a mile on the track upstairs. Sweat dripped from his face like he had been standing outside in the rain.

By the time you returned to his dorm, you were beyond tired. You laid your head on his pillow but just as you closed your eyes, he pulled you up on your feet.”

“Not on my watch,” he tutted. “It’s chemistry time.”

You were having trouble memorizing Chemical Formulas and this by far was the most difficult concept you had come across.

To make you stay awake, he turned on a bright LED light and faced it towards the table. The bright light nearly made your head fall off from the pain it reflected in your eyes.

Hisoka grabbed his book and began to write down the major chemicals on the periodic table and their charges.

“Pay attention to the following abbreviations and charges: Calcium is Ca, Chloride is Cl+2, Carbide is C+2, and Carbon Dioxide is CO+2. Read these over and I’ll test you again.”

He did just that but you still weren’t understanding. You were ready to give up.

Stupid scam. Why do I need a piece of paper to determine what I can do? You thought to yourself. Well, it’s obvious. If you can’t do the work now, what makes you think you can do it at a job? Harsh, I know.

“Let me try this,” He said. He carried you to his bedroom and gently placed you on it. He took off his shirt and removed his glasses. “Aluminum has a charge of +3 and Oxygen has -2. If there were three of me and two of my clones disappeared, how many of me are left?”

“Just you, right? One”

“Correct! Excellent.”

Wow, everything started making sense once he took his shirt off.

From then, he just inserted himself into the equation and then it started to make sense! He apologized for running his mouth earlier and promised to keep any more secrets between you two. The night ended with you sleeping in his bed wrapped in a cotton blanket just cuddling and that was it. And bam! You slept as sound.

Illumi

Dating the “hot” quiet history buff was a flex of its own. Sure Illumi didn’t talk to anyone besides you, but it didn’t matter. People swooned if he looked in their direction.

History was a popular major during your era. People were not like their grandparents; they wanted to learn about other cultures besides their own. Illumi’s specialty was in world history and civilizations. The class was very interesting to you but there was so much information, you could barely process it.

Illumi often wrote his essays in one day proofread and all! He often charged people to look their essays over.

One time he made $500 in one year!

Glancing at your transcripts, he notices that you have a C- and offers to help.

“Why are you looking through my stuff?”

Hey, he’s your boyfriend! But still, he should ask.

“Sorry. It was up on the screen,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

You began to blush in embarrassment. The hottest smartest man in the building now knew that you were failing one of the easiest classes on campus.

Placing his thumb under your chin, he lifted your head to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can help you.”

“How? I am so behind! I zoned out after chapter 2!”

“We’ll watch a movie.”

“Oh, God! Not one from PBS is it?!”

“Yes. How else are you supposed to learn?”

He turns on the movie and allows you to lay your head on his shoulder but not too much. He is aware of your tricks and he wants you to pay attention.

Every 15 minutes, he pauses the movie and asks you checkpoint questions. If you got them wrong, you had to stand up with your underclothes on (t-shirt and shorts) in the cool room for 10 minutes. If you got the questions right, he allows you to lay more comfortably. You were already in your underclothes but you were under the blanket.

He made you write down key definitions and the embarrassment of each section.

After the movie, he blindfolds you and reads out a term. Surprisingly, you got them all correct!

As a reward for your past midterm, he takes you to dinner at a restaurant where he slips a promise ring on your finger containing your birthstone.

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Surprise Rides

Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Motorcycle Oneshot

Cassian plans a surprise for Nesta

Written for Nessian Month 2021 @illyrianet

Prompt: Motorcycle

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Art by @mehx1000

1802 words

*******

Nesta’s phone chimed again with a new notification. Rolling her eyes, she tried to get back to her book. She was sitting on her couch with an old romance novel and a glass of wine. It was her favorite way to relax after a long day—and today had been one hell of a long day. All she wanted was to immerse herself in her book for a few hours and go to sleep.

Her phone chimed again.

It seemed her boyfriend wasn’t going to let her have her relaxing night alone.

To be fair, he didn’t know how exhausting the day was. All she’d told him when he called earlier asking if she wanted to go out that night, was to say she was tired and that she’d see him tomorrow.

Another chime.

Sighing, Nesta placed her bookmark before closing the novel and reaching for her phone. There were a dozen notifications, all from Cassian. The first few texts were asking if she was sure she didn’t want to go out and then a few suggesting they could stay in while offering movie suggestions and take-out offers. Then there a few texts asking if she was alive because she wasn’t responding.

The next text came almost immediately after with the realization that she was probably busy with something and not to worry about texting back right away. An hour after that he tried calling and the voicemail was a string of "are you okay?", "I know you said today was long, do you need anything?", and "You're probably curled up with a book right now so I'll stop calling."

Nesta couldn’t help but smile at the messages. In another circumstance, she may have felt overwhelmed or smothered by the number of messages, but she knew Cassian only meant well. And usually, when she felt the need to be alone she gave him more of an explanation than she had today.

She was about to respond to his message when she was startled by a loud knock on her apartment door.

Tossing her phone down and moving the blanket off her legs, she grumbled at being interrupted as she walked over to her door. Without bothering to look in the peephole, she yanked the door open and stopped short.

Cassian was leaning against her doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, with a boyish grin spread over his face. He was wearing his usual: worn jeans, boots, black t-shirt stretched deliciously across his hard chest, and his worn leather jacket. His hair was pulled away from his face in a messy bun atop his head and he had the start of a five-o’clock shadow along his jawline.

“Hey Nes.” He grinned as she stood there open-mouthed. It wasn’t the presence of her boyfriend that left her speechless, it was his appearance. Because on top of his clothes, he was covered in leaves, twigs, and grass stains.

His smile turned almost sheepish as she took in his disheveled appearance, and he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Cassian,” She looked back at his face, and although he has the barest hint of a blush, he still looked very pleased with himself. “I...what...what happened to you?”

He smiled again and swooped down to kiss her before answering. Pulling back, he seemed even more pleased that it took her an extra second to open her eyes after his kiss.

“Guess what I did today.”

He seemed really excited, but Nesta was still trying to understand why he looked like he tumbled down a hill.

“Nothing stupid I hope.” She answered with a skeptically raised brow. She tried her best not to smile as he scoffed and shook his head at her mocking tone.

“Of course not! Who do you think I am?” He asked indignantly.

She rolled her eyes at him but stepped aside so he could come into her apartment. Closing the door behind him, she crossed her arms and made an exaggerated scan over his body.

“I think you’re someone who would do something stupid.”

He rolled his eyes but looked around to see her discarded blanket, book, and wine glass. Turning back to Nesta, he grinned. She knew he was pleased that he guessed her nightly activities correctly.

“I have a surprise for you.”

This time she looked at him surprised but asked, “What?"

"I have a surprise for you," Cassian repeated, stepping closer to her so he could wrap his hands around her and slip both his hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "You said you had a long day, so I wanted to surprise you with something that will hopefully make it better."

Nesta melted into his touch and smiled softly at the gesture. But when she went to wrap her arms around his neck, her hand snagged on a twig clinging to his collar and she looked at him skeptically.

"What is it?”

He walked towards her coat closet and started rummaging through it before pulling out the thing he was looking for.

“Ah, put this on. And I can’t tell you, Nes, or it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore.”

She just stared at the leather jacket he held out to her; the one she’d bought months ago when she was out with Cass. He insisted that if she was going to ride with him on his motorcycle, then she needed a good jacket to wear.

And they both wanted her to keep riding on his bike.

As long as she’d known Cassian, his bike had been a part of him. She was more surprised than anyone when she started dating the leather-wearing, motorcycle-riding, tattooed, man standing in front of her. But despite his outward appearance, he was the kindest, most sincere, and compassionate man she had ever dated.

And it only took one ride on the back of his bike, with the wind in her hair and the heat of him pressed against her as she hugged him from behind, to show her that she, too, loved the feeling of riding on a motorcycle.

His motorcycle.

During one of their rides up the coast, Cassian insisted that she needed a good leather jacket for their longer rides. When she tried this jacket on, the one he was still holding out to her, he had just stared at her unblinking and insisted she buy it. In his words, she looked “so fucking sexy in the leather” that as soon as they got home he asked her to wear nothing but the jacket and showed her exactly how much he loved it.

Accepting the fact that her relaxing night in wasn’t going to happen, and more than a little curious about what the surprise was, she grabbed the jacket and slipped it on. She didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her body as she zipped it up; the leather clinging to her curves. Ignoring his darkened eyes and the way he bit his lip, she rolled her eyes but smirked as she turned to grab her purse.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Nesta followed him out the door, making sure the lights were turned off and the door locked.

“You don’t need to sound too excited.”

She rolled her eyes but handed her purse to his outstretched hand as they got to his parked bike. Lifting the seat, he took out the spare helmet and handed it to her as he tucked her purse into the now-empty storage space.

“Maybe I’d be more excited if my boyfriend wasn’t taking me wherever it is that made him look like he just jumped into a pile of leaves.”

He laughed and expertly put his own helmet on. “Have a little faith in me, Nes.”

Nesta rolled her eyes again but smiled and climbed on the bike behind Cassian. He revved the engine and she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, pulling herself as close to him as she could. She raised the visor on her helmet briefly to tell him, "You know I do."

She flipped her visor back down and leaned her head against his back as he quickly squeezed the hands she had around his waist. He kicked up the stand on the bike, pushed on the gas, and drove away.

***

Nesta could easily get lost in the feeling of riding. It felt like flying; it was fast, exhilarating, and she never felt safer than when she was with Cassian.

They rode for almost twenty minutes on the main road before he turned down a more secluded path, covered by a canopy of trees that made the stretch of road feel like their own personal tunnel. Cassian turned again, this time along an unpaved path and she held him tighter as he maneuvered over the uneven ground. Soon, he stopped at the edge of a clearing and Nesta lifted her face from his back to get a better look.

“So? What do you think?” He asked, sounding a little nervous as if she wouldn’t like it.

But how could she not like it? A large blanket was set up in the clearing with a picnic basket and pillows. And lights had been strung up along the branches, creating a glow around the space.

“Cass…” She swallowed the lump in her throat and lifted her helmet so she could press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “It’s perfect, I love it.”

She felt him grin and she kissed him again.

He turned the motorcycle off and helped her climb off the back. Then he grabbed her hand and led her over to the blanket. She could see now that more blankets were laid out beside the pillows.

He let her look around and when her gaze fell on him again he was grinning at her surprised look.

“Told you I had a surprise for you.” He grinned, pleased with her reaction.

“I can’t believe you did all this.”

“I may have had a little help.” He admitted, “But they’re long gone now, you don’t have to worry about anyone interrupting us.” He winked and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Nesta threw her head back and laughed. Cassian’s smirk widened into a large grin at the sound of it. He grabbed her hand and tugged her down onto the blanket landing on his back and pulling her on top of him.

She leaned up to kiss him as his hands held her waist.

“Thank you,” Nesta murmured against his lips moments later.

Cassian smiled and kicked off his shoes. She did the same and fell back against him, tucked into his side as they watched the lights twinkle above them.

As they laid there, content in each other’s company, Nesta realized she much preferred this over her book and wine. This time.

***

Taglist:

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[gureishi]

Your writing is amazing, and all those prompts are great! :) Could I request number 17 for Saeyoung with a female MC? Hurt/Comfort, and NSFW, please. Thank you so much, have a great day!

THANK YOU! <3 

So here, let me tell you what happened...

I looked at this prompt and I thought about Saeyoung (let’s be real, I’m always thinking about Saeyoung) and my brain screamed CABIN, CABIN, and I realized...oh my god, in all the thousands of words of Saeyoung X Reader fanfiction I’ve written, I’ve somehow never written my version of their (probably) canon first time.

So I DID IT! And it’s long af cause...well, of course it is.

seventeen: i came here for sanctuary

Saeyoung X Reader, E (M/F sex), words: 6930 (!!)

Smut warning, proceed with caution ♡

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The sun sinks behind the trees, the last streaks of yellow melting from the sky. Gravel crunches beneath the sleek little car’s wheels as it slows to a stop. The only light is from the phone in your hand—you can’t see anything outside the windows but dark, dark, dark.

“Wait,” Saeyoung whispers. “Just a minute.”

He turns off the car and without its rumbling the silence feels louder. You sit absolutely still and your heart pounds.

Saeyoung holds out his hand and, wordlessly, you pass him his phone. He pulls up a new GPS, one you don’t know how to read; zooms in; breathes a sigh of relief.

“Okay,” he says, louder. “We’re safe here.”

With that, he flings open the door, and you realize you must have absolute trust in him after all as you follow suit, stepping out into the unknown.

Outside, you can see a little more. There’s no moon tonight, but the stars are huge here, and by their light you make your way around the car, stand beside Saeyoung as he opens the trunk. He passes your backpack to you and slings the other, larger bag over his shoulder. He does this quickly, quietly, as if it’s a routine. Finding a safe house in the dark, unpacking the car in silence—for him, you suppose, it is a routine.

“Um, maybe we should—” He hesitates, awkwardly holds out a hand to you. You grin.

“Do you still need an excuse to hold my hand?” You slip your hand into his larger, warmer one, and he interlaces his fingers with yours.

“I’ll take any excuse I can get,” he says, winking, and you feel calmer. You’d follow this man to the ends of the earth, you think.

Hand-in-hand, you walk up the gravel path. You can see now that he’s parked beside a smallish cabin—it looks built by hand, the kind you’ve seen in reality shows (“fashionable young couple leaves it all behind for a rustic cabin in the woods!”) You weren’t sure things like this existed. Of course they do, you tell yourself. Stupid.

Saeyoung pulls a ring of keys you’ve never seen before out of the side pocket of his bag and spins it around, inserting a little, unlabelled key into the door. You raise your eyebrows.

“Come here often?”

He laughs and the sound warms you up from the inside: you loved his laugh the very first time you heard it, what feels like a lifetime ago. You love the way he giggles when you tease him and the way he cackles when he’s proud of himself and the way he laughs like this—bubbly, like he finds everything you do and say impossibly delightful.

“It’s actually an old agency hideout,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea at first, but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s been here for years.”

He pushes the door open and you follow him inside; you’re immediately hit by a wave of cold and a damp, musky scent. You don’t mind it—it reminds you of the basement of the home you lived in as a child.

“I think there’s…somewhere around here…” He pushes ahead, muttering to himself, and you wait in the doorway, keeping it cracked so he can see by the lights of the stars. “Ah-ha!” A dim light flickers on.

Saeyoung sighs, turning around to survey the room.

“This isn’t a place for someone like you,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the furnishings—it’s a single room, with an out-of-use fireplace and some boxes full of you-don’t-want-to-know-what stacked in one corner. There’s also a little work station and (you feel a little thrill dance up your spine) a single, slightly lumpy bed pushed against the back wall.

Nice bed. Plenty of room for…activities, whispers a voice in the back of your mind—it’s a gremlin, you think, a silly, horny gremlin, hiding in the recesses of your imagination. Shut up, you tell the gremlin.

“I like it,” you say aloud. “I could live here.” You shut the door and the click echoes in the little room.

You feel Saeyoung’s eyes on you and turn; he’s still standing in the middle of the room, watching you with a sort of reverence on his face.

“You’re amazing,” he says.

Leap into his arms and kiss him breathless, the gremlin says, and you bite your lip, hushing your inner voice. Your neck feels hot.

“You’re the amazing one,” you tell him. For some reason the air in the cabin is reverberating like a plucked string and you’re afraid if you get any closer to him the string will snap. You edge around the outer wall, drop your backpack on the bare mattress, perch on the edge of the bed. “You got us this far.”

He turns to follow you with his eyes, watching as you nervously fiddle with the straps of your bag. There’s a strange expression on his face and you don’t know what to do with your body.

He shakes his head as if to clear it and then abruptly turns from you, crosses to the little desk on the opposite wall, starts pulling things out of his bag with a little too much fervor.

“Will you be okay for a while?” he asks quietly, his back turned. “I just have to…” He waves a hand at the two laptops he’s set on the desk.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He turns to look at you now, and he’s still got that strange, conflicted look on his face. He starts to say something, stops himself. Swallows.

“You can try and keep yourself warm,” he says. “The fireplace would be too big a risk, if it even still works, but check the closet by the bathroom. I think there’s a space heater in there, and there should definitely be blankets.”

And before you can respond he’s all business again, plugging things into other things; there’s already a low hum emitting from one of the computers.

So you do as you’re told: slip out of your shoes, pad across the unfinished wood floor in your thick socks. Open the closet, start peering into the mysterious boxes there. Find, by some miracle, the old, dusty space heater. Get it going.

You wrap yourself up as tightly as you possibly can in one of the thick, stiff blankets you found neatly folded in the closet and curl up on the bare mattress. And you wait.

Time passes.

The sound of his keyboard is like a lullaby to you, nowadays, and you drift between sleep and wakefulness, your head swimming with thoughts of him: the beautiful curve of his cheekbones as he drives into the sunset, the buzzy delight of his fingers on your thigh, the cautious way he brushes his lips over yours on those brief, stolen moments of rest between driving, driving, driving…

The typing stops and your eyes fly open, blinking at him through the flickering light from the single lamp. His back is straight; his fingers aren’t moving.

You call his name. Repeat it. 

“Yeah?” His voice sounds rough and you untangle your legs from the blanket. You want to ask if he’s okay but already know the answer.

“How’s it going?” you ask instead—vaguely, lamely. You twist the thick fabric of the blanket in your fingers. What a silly, meaningless question.

“We’ll definitely catch up to him tomorrow,” Saeyoung says hollowly. You consider going to him, wrapping your arms around his tense shoulders, but you don’t know if he’ll let you—the physical affection between you is so new, so tenuous. 

“I’m glad,” you say, because it’s the truth.

He twists around in his chair to peer at you. There are familiar dark circles under his eyes, worry written on his soft features.

“You’re not scared?” he asks.

“A little,” you tell him. “But I trust you.”

He sighs, pushes his glasses up, runs one shaky hand over his face. “You have too much faith in me.”

“You’ve given me no reason not to have faith in you.” You unwind yourself more from the big blanket. The space heater has worked, filling the room with smoky warmth. “Are you scared?” you ask.

He cocks his head to the side as if he’s considering it and, with some surprise, says, “Yeah, I think…I am.”

“What are you scared of?” you ask, not sure if he’ll tell you.

He drums his fingers on his knee, looks around the little room as if stalling for time. “Disappearing,” he says at last.

Oh, how you want to run to him. Kiss the lines of worry off his face and hold him till he melts into you.

“I’m not going to let you go anywhere,” you tell him firmly. You’re not sure why, but you feel very confident about this.

“Thank you,” he says. “But…” He’s looking down at his lap now. “I set up my life so I could disappear without a trace whenever I needed to. So if I do…go away…there’d be nothing left of me. It’d be like I was never here.”

That’s it—you can’t take it anymore. You’ve got no more patience—not when he’s got that frightened, empty look on his face. 

“Come here,” you say, and you open your arms. His cheeks immediately flush pink, and you’re relieved to see embarrassment take the place of hopelessness on his face.

“O-onto the bed?” he stammers, and you grin—because the capable, strong man who you trust with your life is also this hopelessly innocent, charmingly awkward boy, turning bright red at the mere thought of letting you hold him.

“Only if you want to,” you say in your sweetest voice, and he quietly groans.

“Who could say no to that?” he mutters to himself, and you try to stifle a giggle as he swings his leg over the chair and stumbles the few feet to the bed. You wait for him patiently, arms open—cautiously, avoiding your gaze, he crawls toward you, and as he nuzzles his head hesitantly against your chest you fold him into your arms.

“Better?” you ask him.

“Yes, and…no,” he says. You can feel his heart pounding through both his t-shirt and hoodie, and it seems like he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands. One rests just above your hip, just barely touching you, like he’s not sure whether or not he’s supposed to.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him. With one hand, you play with a stray curl that’s fallen over his face; his skin feels hot on your fingertips.

“I don’t wanna say,” he murmurs.

You brush the hair off his forehead and then, because you just want to, you press a single, soft kiss to his hairline. He shudders.

“Tell me,” you say. Saeyoung has been still as a statue this whole time; now, his hand shifts, putting just the tiniest bit of pressure on your hip. He’s still barely touching you but suddenly you know what he’s thinking, and it’s like an electric current runs through your body and sets your blood on fire. The gremlin chants its encouragement from deep within your mind.

“If…” he says cautiously, and you feel his lips through your shirt as he speaks softly into your chest. Your heart misses a beat. “If tonight is our last night, I just…want to do one thing.”

“It’s not our last night,” you tell him, and your voice sounds too loud, and somehow your focus is narrowing, narrowing so all you can feel is his hand against your hip. You continue working your fingers through his hair, a little more roughly now; he squirms against you and grips your hip harder, harder.

“I hope not,” he whispers. “But if—just in case—can I…be a bit selfish to you?”

You’ve got goosebumps. 

“You can do anything you want to me,” you say, and as soon as the words are out of your mouth you feel you’ve gone too far. The gremlin is roaring.

His head shoots up and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by the intensity of his eyes, his face mere inches from yours.

“Wh-what?” he stammers. His face is flushed and his pupils are huge; he’s looking at you like he’s never seen anything quite like you before. And maybe his shyness emboldens you, or maybe you’re drunk on the burning feeling of his fingers on your skin, but you take a deep breath and plunge ahead.

“You can do anything you want,” you repeat slowly, looking down into his beautiful, molten eyes. “To me.”

He audibly gulps. There’s a hard, desperate look on his face. You’ve caught glimpses of this expression before, when he’s kissed you, hands at your back, breathing hard against your lips—but he’s always pulled away, cut things off before they went too far.

Now, he’s not pulling away.

“I want to kiss you,” he breathes.

“So kiss me.”

And he does, slowly closing the distance between you, brushing his lips against yours with so much tenderness and care. He’s holding back, you can tell—wound so tight he’s barely moving, as if he’s terrified of whatever lives underneath his carefully curated exterior.

You part your lips and he trembles and—keep going, hisses the gremlin—you deepen the kiss, sweep the tip of your tongue over his bottom lip.

“Mmmm,” you hum, relishing the sweet-salty taste of him, and you weave one hand into the base of his messy curls.

This breaks him. He swivels abruptly, crashing his hips into yours, kissing you harder now—clumsy, rough, electric, wonderful. Delighted by his sudden ferocity, you mold into him, raking your hands down the back of his neck.

He pulls back a fraction of an inch, panting, a wild look on his face.

“I…s-sorry…” he pants. “I c-can’t…”

“Tell me what else you want,” you say. You run a hand up his chest and feel his muscles tensing, his body vibrating.

“I—I want to…” His eyes roam your body and he’s never looked at you quite like this before and—oh god, you think, you didn’t know you could want somebody this much.“I want to…touch you,” he says, his voice low.

The gremlin cheers.

“Touch me where?” you whisper. You roll your hips under his and he moans, grasping desperately at your shoulders with bruising fingers.

“N-not fair,” he hisses. Then he’s kissing you again, more confidently this time, lips parted and hands skimming down your arms, across your torso. Your shirt has ridden up and his calloused fingertips graze your bare skin, making you dizzy, so you wrap your legs around his waist, pull him against you—he groans, kissing you ferociously, breathlessly. Every point of contact between you burns icy-hot.

You break the kiss and gasp for air. Saeyoung looks totally undone, his eyes unfocused, pupils blown huge as he hovers over you. More, screams your mind gremlin, and you silently agree. Your fingers rove over his chest, under his unzipped hoodie.

“Can I take this off?” you murmur. He nods, looking dazed and a little helpless, and you slip it easily off his shoulders, run your hands down his arms. He’s got goosebumps, too. “Is this okay?” you ask him, fingers dancing over his torso now, under his t-shirt.

“Yeah,” he pants, following your questing hands with his eyes. “Um, can I…?”

“Please,” you say. You lean back a little and he cautiously slips a hand under your shirt. His fingers tickle—you giggle—his face breaks into a smile.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, exploring the sensitive skin of your belly with one tentative hand. You moan softly, encouraging him, and his hand slides over your ribcage—pausing when he hits the lacy bottom edge of your bra. He looks down, his cheeks reddening again. “I don’t…know what to do with this,” he mutters. It’s your turn to grin. The genius secret agent slash hacker, taken down by a bra.

“Here,” you say. You pull yourself into a sitting position and he rocks back on his heels; you grab your shirt with both hands and easily lift it off, toss it aside.

Saeyoung looks positively enraptured.

“Y-you are…” he stammers. His awe is adorable and charming but the gremlin yells touch me more, dammit, so you take his hand and guide it to your skin, stroking down from your throat all the way to your belly button.

“Now what are you thinking?” you ask him. You lean back and let him explore you with both hands—he is meticulous, running his fingertips over every inch of exposed skin.

“I’m thinking…” He’s red again. “To be honest, I kind of never thought I’d be in this position.”

You giggle. “S-sorry!” you say. “I just…looking at a girl in a bra?”

He chuckles awkwardly, his hands at your waist, his eyes lowered. “Yeah,” he says. “Exactly.”

“Oh, then boy do I have a surprise for you.” Before he can respond, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him again. He kisses you back hard, grasping at your sides as if holding on for dear life. You trust his grip and slip your hands behind you, unhooking your bra.

Saeyoung realizes what’s happening just a beat after it happens, and he breaks the kiss, pulling away as if he can’t help himself—eyes unabashedly roaming over your body. You slip the straps down your arms and toss the bra aside. For a moment, it seems as though you’ve rendered him speechless.

Then: “Wow,” he says softly.

You grin, propping yourself up with both hands and arching your back, taunting him a little. “That’s all you have to say?”

He chokes on air, lifts his hands to his hot, flushed cheeks. “You’re gonna kill me,” he mutters.

His worshipful attention emboldens you. “Your turn,” you tell him, sliding your fingers up and under his t-shirt again. He lifts his arms—obediently, as if in a trance—and you pull the shirt over his head. It gets caught for a moment on his glasses and he absently tosses them aside.

“Careful—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says gruffly.

The shirt is off—at last—and you explore his torso with eager fingers. His skin is warm and malleable under your touch; you can feel where there were once defined abs, trademark of years of rigorous training. Now, there’s a layer of softer flesh over those muscles, evidence of his more recent lifestyle.

He winces a little as your fingers graze his belly.

“Not much to look at,” he mutters. “Especially compared to you.”

You shake your head vehemently, tracing the contours of his chest with your hands. “You are so beautiful,” you tell him in a reverent voice. And he is—the muscles in his arms ripple delightfully under his skin as he adjusts his position, sits cross-legged in front of you. His body is perfect, you think—firm and yet soft, sculpted and yet supple.

He looks sideways and down, made embarrassed by your scrutiny. You run your fingertips over a long scar you’ve never seen before, cutting diagonally across his chest and onto his shoulder.

“What do you want now?” you ask him, leaning forward to brush his neck with your lips. He’s breathing heavily and he’s got that look on his face again—like he’s just barely keeping it together.

“I want…you,” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut, and you’re not sure if there’s more to the sentence than that—but you can’t stand it anymore, so you climb into his lap, wrapping both legs around his waist. “Oh my god,” he hisses as you adjust in his lap; you press your lips to his neck again and graze the gentle skin with your teeth. His hips shudder underneath you and the friction makes your head swim.

“C-can I…” he whispers throatily, “do that too?”

You giggle, because even with you half-naked and straddling him he’s still got that adorable naïveté and you just want to smother him with affection.

“Do what?” you murmur in his ear, and then you catch his earlobe between your teeth. He groans, low and longing.

“I-I want—” he begins, but then you grind your hips against him and his words crumble into another desperate moan. He grips your hips with both hands, tries again. “I want to…leave evidence,” he rasps, and he’s holding you so tight you’re sure there will be fingerprints on your hips and thighs in the morning. Good, whispers the gremlin. “I want to leave evidence on you that I existed,” he says.

Your breath hitches and you don’t miss the unspoken “in case I disappear tomorrow” and you lean back in his lap, baring your throat for him.

“Do it,” you say.

He kisses your lips and then, so slowly, flutters kisses across your cheek, your jaw. He parts his lips and you can feel his teeth on your skin.

“Tell me how,” he whispers.

“Lower,” you say, and you feel his lips drift down your neck. “Open,” you tell him, and his lips part. You stay very still, legs wrapped tight around his waist. “Suck,” you say, and he does, tugging your skin into his mouth. You feel the sharp pressure on your skin and you feel a swooping in your stomach, a neediness at your core. “One…” you count, and he sucks harder, his teeth against your flushed skin. “Two…three. Now.” He pulls back, panting a little, surveying his work with curious eyes.

“It’s red,” he says.

“Good,” you tell him. “Again.”

Without hesitation, he brings his mouth to your neck again, following the muscle that wraps around the front of your throat. He takes your skin between his teeth with more confidence this time and sparks fly behind your closed eyelids.

He meticulously progresses down one side of your neck and up the other, leaving a trail of tender, bruised skin in his wake. It doesn’t hurt much, but the gentle pain is enough to stir up something strong and mysterious inside of you. The gremlin in your mind swims in a sea of pleasure. 

Saeyoung bites you just under your left ear and you can’t keep still anymore, your hips rocking against his, seeking new sensations.

“Saeyoung,” you hiss, and he licks your neck—you know he can feel the way your nails scrabble at his back—your longing has made him bolder. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Am I?” He nibbles your jaw and grins against your skin as you moan. “Should I drive you crazier?”

You are going to lose it, you think. You are going to topple off the cliff of sensations that are barraging your mind and you are going to fall apart entirely.

"You don’t wanna see what will happen if you do,” you mutter.

“I do, though,” he teases, and then he bites your earlobe—hard—and for a moment you can’t see straight. 

You asked for it, you think, and then—before he can react—you slither out of his grip and dart off the bed. Too late, he reaches for you, but you’ve already found your footing, sliding easily to your knees. You grip his waist with both hands and pull him toward you and he follows, automatically, unthinking. It’s only then that he looks down and sees the position you’re in.

His eyes widen and his face flushes a shade darker than his hair. “You’re…that’s…uhhhh,” he manages. You loop two fingers through the waistband of his jeans and tug him closer to the edge of the bed and he goes with you, letting his legs dangle off the side. He opens his mouth as if to say something else. Swallows. Closes it again.

You run one hand over and around his thigh and then, achingly slow, over the obvious bulge in his pants. He makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a squeak.

“Will you let me do this?” you ask, fingers drifting up to the button of his jeans. He tries to speak but fails again. Instead, he nods frantically, and you undo the button, pull down the zipper. His erection springs free, now constrained only by the more forgiving fabric of his boxers. “Help me with these, babe,” you say, tugging at his pants, and he complies eagerly, pulling his jeans off his hips with shaky hands. You guide them down his legs and then you palm him again, through his underwear, thrilled by the way his cock jumps in anticipation at your touch.

“I wanna taste you,” you whisper, and he mutters a string of incoherent syllables, his hips shaking uncontrollably under your ministrations. You slip his boxers up and over his erection, down his thighs, and bend slowly forward, exhaling onto him. His cock jumps again as if seeking out your lips of its own accord. So you bend over further, bring your lips to his tip, dart out your tongue and lick all the way around.

He groans low in his throat and then his hands are tangled in your hair and he’s pulling your head back.

“No?” you ask, and he whimpers as if stopping you is taking all his strength.

“I…want you to, god I want you to…b-but…” His voice sounds weak and his eyes are shut, his head still tilted back. “If you do that, I won’t…uhhhhh, I won’t be able to…l-last. Very long. At all.” He finally opens his eyes and gazes down at you with such neediness it makes you tremble.

“You don’t have to, baby,” you purr, and he shuts his eyes again with a moan. “Trust me, you’ll…come back around, if that’s what you want.”

He mumbles something and your lips quirk upward as you feel him gathering your hair behind your neck with his hands.

“Then…please,” he hisses, and the gremlin jumps for joy. You round your lips, carefully taking his tip between them; you wrap one hand around his base and slowly, slowly pull him into your mouth.

He utters a totally indistinguishable string of sounds and you suction your lips around him and arch your back, taking him deeper and then slipping away, licking all the way up his length. You grip his base with your other hand and slide your lips over him, in and out, mouth and hand working in tandem. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t last long, you think—his hips have started to shake in a telltale way and so, back arching, you suction your lips around him tighter, rocking forward on your knees. You cup his balls with one hand and breathe in, pulling him further into your mouth—and he comes, hard and fast, wiggling beneath you as he relinquishes control. You open your throat, swallowing everything.

He gasps for air and, gradually, the erratic movements of his hips slow. You pull away from him then, licking the last of the saltiness from his tip, and he lets out a low, hollow moan.

The heat between your legs is almost unbearable now—there was something about making him dissolve in pleasure that completely overwhelmed you and now you feel dizzy.

You pull yourself back onto the bed, crawling to his side and stroking his cheek. His eyes flutter open and he looks ravished, you think, his gaze totally unfocused and his hair beautifully disheveled.

“I…that…” he pants. You kiss his collarbone. “Th-that was…”

“Better than when you do it yourself, huh?” You giggle against his skin and internally beg your gremlin for patience, trying to ignore the steadily growing need at your core.

“I…literally cannot put into words how much better,” he says. “You…”

“Give great head? Are impossibly sexy and cool? Deserve a blessing from God Seven?” You can’t help but scoot closer as you tease him, grinding your hips—still in your pants, dammit—against his side.

“God Seven isn’t worthy,” he says. His eyes rove over your body, and—yes—land on your still-clothed lower half. “God Seven has found a new purpose in life.”

“And that is?” you purr. You shamelessly rub your hips against his side again. You keep your voice level; internally, you’re at the eye of a storm.

He props himself up on his elbows. Maybe he can tell that now you’re the one who’s falling apart; maybe he’s just finally starting to relax (he certainly should feel relaxed, after that, you think)—but you sense that he’s taking control.

“Well.” His tone is commanding, almost intellectual. “The first step is to get you out of these pants.”

“Yes!” you cry, and he chuckles as you enthusiastically undo the button, already pulling them down your thighs. “Finally!”

He waits for you, sprawled sideways across the bed, looking for all the world as if he does this everyday. You wriggle out of your pants and throw yourself onto your back beside him.

There’s a hungry look on his face as he leans forward and runs one large, calloused hand up your thigh, parting your legs. Desperate for him, you lean back into the mattress, breath already coming hard and fast. “You’re so wet…” he says in awe as he reaches your panties and hesitates, his hand tantalizingly close.

“Of course I am,” you tell him. “It’s because I need you to touch me, Saeyoung.”

His eyes go wide.

“Teach me,” he whispers.

You rip your underwear off with one hand and he helps you, pulling it down your legs and over your feet with gentle hands. You catch his hand in your own and guide him up, between your thighs—separating out his long, flexible fingers, bringing the pad of his index finger to your swollen, needy clit.

“Like this,” you murmur, and you flick your own finger over yourself, hot and trembling, unable to repress a moan at finally getting some satisfaction. He watches you with thoughtful eyes and you can practically see the gears turning in that genius brain of his as he memorizes your movements.

Then he copies you, moving his finger softly against your clit—and it’s different when he does it, of course, his fingers nimbler, his skin rougher. He mimics your motions with absolute precision and you let your hand fall away, the mixture of pleasure and desperation and relief threatening to drown you.

He takes note of every response from you: the way you moan as he moves faster, the way your thighs clench around his hand as he experimentally makes a little circle with his fingertip.

“You are…amazing,” he says, and he’s gazing down at you in wonder, and—oh, he’s got a new toy to play with, you think groggily, your head swimming—he’s found another thing he can manipulate with his fingers, and that’s his speciality.

“Thank god for computers,” you gasp, not even sure what you’re saying, the room swimming around you as you forget to breathe.

“Thank god for…computers?” he asks, eyebrows knitted in confusion—but even as he speaks, his movements don’t slow, his finger flitting against you with the same precision and gentleness you’ve seen him apply to his keyboards, or the little cat robot.

You somehow manage to laugh through the blinding heat behind your eyes. “Because…” you gasp. “B-because you’re good at…computers…so you know how to…”

At that moment, he curls a finger inside of you, his eyes growing huge as he realizes he has another weapon at his disposal. You lose track of your words entirely, taken by surprise, stammering out his name as his index fingers continues its endless stimulation of your clit and his middle finger slides deeper inside you. 

Your toes curl. He bends over you and his teeth graze your neck where it’s already tender from his earlier attentions and the heat is blinding, blinding you, and you swear your body actually levitates, the cold, scratchy mattress disappearing entirely as the pleasure swells within you. You come violently, shaking, anchored to reality only by his fingers at your core.

You hear yourself gasping his name as if from outside yourself, and he rides it out with you, pushing you deeper and farther into the bright, hot recesses of your mind.

And slowly, the feeling fades: the mattress is firm and steady beneath you and you grasp clumsily for him, stilling his fingers with your own.

“Fuck,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “Fuck, Saeyoung.”

You try to focus on his face. He’s hovering over you and he looks adoring and thrilled and—proud.

“Am I amazing at that, or what?!” he sings, and you burst out laughing.

“You’re a genius, babe,” you tell him. You still feel a little woozy.

“I know I’m a genius,” he crows. “But who knew I was a sex genius?” He’s all energy now, bouncing on his heels, rocking the bed a little. You push yourself into a sitting position, giggling.

“God Seven, God Seven!” he’s chanting—so you do the only reasonable thing and tackle him, knocking him flat on his back, snaking your arms around his neck.

“There’s still something I wanna try with you, genius God Seven,” you purr into his ear, and his demeanor shifts almost immediately, a little shiver running through his body.

“Yeah?” he murmurs—and all his bravado is gone, and he gazes at you hungrily. You maneuver yourself so your hips are hovering just over his, and you can feel that he’s hardening again, his tip grazing your belly.

“Choi Saeyoung, for the love of god, please fuck me,” you say. He exhales sharply, grasping at your sides with both hands. “I’ve only been imagining it since the day I met you.”

“You have?” His voice is low and throaty and you grind your hips against him, pinning his cock between you. He’s totally hard now, and shivering, that dizzy look returning to his face—like he doesn’t quite know where is or how he got here.

“You have no idea,” he mutters. “But…hang on…I have—” He pushes you off him reluctantly, and you sit back on the bed.

He has…?

It dawns on you, and you watch in wonder as he slides from the bed, practically runs to his bag which he’s left beside the desk. You’re a little ashamed to admit that you hadn’t even thought of it.

He rummages around in the bag and you watch—he has, you think, an excellent butt. Triumphantly, he pulls a little roll of condoms from his bag; you smirk.

“Why do you have those?” you ask, trying to keep the laugher from your voice.

“Don’t…read anything into it, alright?” His face is flushed again as he returns to you, crawls back onto the bed. “I just…you know, need to be prepared. For things. As an…agent.”

“As an agent?” You lean back against the wall, legs long in front of you. You can see little finger-shaped marks already forming on your thighs and the sight alone makes your head spin.

“Yeah, it’s…y’know…safety?” he mumbles, coming to sit beside you. He rips off one of the little packets, tosses the rest aside. His face is still flushed and the dim light from the lamp casts shadows over his prominent collar bones and you just want to bite them.

“Saeyoung, how long have you had the condoms?” you ask.

“Not…long."

“So not like, years, right? Cause they expire, you know.”

He growls playfully and nips at your shoulder; you squeal. “Not years, silly. Like…days.”

Ah-ha. You’re a little relieved to know you’re not the only one who’s been obsessing over getting him naked for the last few days.

“So,” you say, voice low.

“So,” he says.

You turn and kiss the base of his neck and he hisses in pleasure. You trail kisses down his chest, over his belly, his hip. Up the length of his cock, holding it gently with one hand.

“G-go easy on me,” he groans, and you laugh. You reach for the packet and he hands it to you; you tear it open and ease the sticky plastic over his tip. You roll the condom onto him slowly, caressing him with both hands, bending to pepper little kisses around his base.

“Ready, baby?” you whisper, looking up at him. He meets your eyes with his own, dark and dizzy and dazed.

“I-I just wanna…” he mumbles. “Just wanna remind you that I have no idea what I’m doing…so…”

You put both hands on his chest and straddle him. 

“What happened to God Seven, sex genius?”

“He’s…still here, but I…ahh.” He moans as you position yourself over him, using a hand to guide him toward you entrance.

“I love you,” you tell him. And before he can answer, you slide onto him, slowly, gasping at the relief of finally feeling him inside you.

His hips stutter frantically against yours and you still him with a hand on his chest. His eyes are shut and his jaw is fixed, like he’s fighting desperately for control.

You wait for him to take a breath—and when he does, slowly, shakily, you start to move. You lift your hips and he moves with you, lower them and he follows you. You feel a sharp clenching inside you, a delightful explosion of sensations, as you fall into a rhythm together.

You moan and he reaches for you, grasping at your sides, your arms. He’s growing more confident now, rocking into you, and you clench around him, pulling him deeper.

His eyes fly open and you see something snap in him—do it, you think—and he does, using both hands to flip you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. His eyes scorch you as he slips back inside you, thrusting into you a little harder; you meet him halfway, lifting your hips, deepening the angle. He’s panting and you can tell he’s still trying to hold himself back and you want to tell him to let go, it’s okay, but there’s fog swimming in your brain and then a huge wave of feelings crashes over you, breaking around you before you know what’s happening. You come quickly and unexpectedly this time, rays of pleasure piercing your body as you lose control of the rhythm and fall to pieces beneath him.

And through the daze of pleasure you see his face shift as he gives in, lets go, thrusts into you faster and harder and with unbidden need—and so you throw your legs up around his waist and pull him into you. His eyes widen and then he comes, too, chasing you, rocking into you frantically, breathing hard through parted lips.

You come down together, trembling and panting, his beautiful faces inches from yours—and then he kisses you hard. You clench around him again and he whimpers.

“You just did that…on purpose,” he gasps.

“I did.”

He laughs a brand new laugh and this one, you think, is your favorite. He slides out of you and sits back, pulling off the condom with a hiss as his fingers brush the sensitive flesh.

“I don’t wanna be dramatic,” he says as he catches his breath. “But I think I just died and then was born again. So.” He giggles and you collapse against him, pressing a hot cheek to his chest. He wraps his arms around you.

“Do you think,” you murmur, “other agents have also done it in this bed?”

He squeezes you tight, still laughing. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“How could you not?”

He hums thoughtfully, combing his fingers through your knotted hair. “I kind of doubt it,”  he says. “Secret agents have way less sex than people think we do.”

“You don’t,” you say.

“One time,” he mutters, nuzzling his face into your hair. “I’ve now had sex one time.”

You twist to look up at him: there are curls falling messily over his forehead and his face is flushed and pink and so kissable. You crane your neck and kiss the underside of his jaw.

“I have this strong feeling that you’re gonna end up having a lot more sex,” you tell him. “Probably kind of soon.”

He cackles and dips his head and covers your face with kisses; you squeal as he flips you over onto your stomach, tossing your hair to the side and nibbling the back of your neck.

“…didn’t leave…enough evidence?” you pant, giggling, squirming.

“Oh, I’m not worried about that anymore,” he says, pinning you beneath him and licking the back of your ear.

“You’re not?”

“Nope!” he sings. “I am one hundred percent confident that I won’t be going anywhere any time soon.” His energy shifts as he kisses across your shoulder, down your back. His fingers drift to your sides, caressing you slowly, making you tremble. “I am never,” he whispers into your skin, “going anywhere without you.”

“Promise?” you pant, squirming as his kisses drift lower, lower.

“I promise,” he whispers, his lips burning your lower back, “that I won’t ever leave your side.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 4

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Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

Marinette almost missed Hawkmoth. Sure, she ended up extremely emotionally repressed, but hey! At least her opponent was stupid, at least she never had to fear losing.

But, yeah, that was why she didn’t notice the fact that chloroform was on the floor. That was way too smart for a villain, in her opinion. Wasn’t Joker supposed to be insane or something? Why wasn’t he completely stupid like Hawkmoth had been?

Those were her last thoughts before her vision blacked out.

She blinked her eyes open one time while she was being transported, but… it wasn’t enough. Her head pounded, her limbs felt like lead. She tried to pull one of her arms away from the five goons carrying her around -- she giggled at how much effort they were going through to keep a half-conscious person down -- but it was too weak to even break their grip. She wasn’t going to be getting out of the situation anytime soon.

She rested her head back against the chest of whoever was carrying her head.

Her eyes fluttered shut without her permission.

It took a while for her to be able to open her eyes again, and when she did she was almost tempted to close them. She was tied up with Red Robin, hanging upside down over a vat of acid. Decidedly not a good situation to be in. Maybe she could ignore it for a little longer…?

She buried her face in the neck of Red Robin’s suit, using the cool material as a kind of cold pack to try and soothe her pounding headache.

… wait... Red Robin!

She had a bit of protection because of her mask covering her mouth and nose and miraculous immune system, but he was a human and both his mouth and nose were uncovered! Shit!

Marinette pulled back as much as she could to check his face and see if he was okay and then cursed the domino mask blocking his eyes from her view. What she could see wasn’t good, though: the skin of his face had broken out into hives where he had come into contact with the chloroform. Ouch.

She tried just poking the good parts of his face with her nose to get him to wake up, but clearly that wasn’t working. Alright, new plan.

“Red Robin?” She whispered.

Nothing.

“Red Robin Red Robin Red Red Red Red Red…”

She was pretty sure she was doing this annoying thing right. She didn’t have siblings, how could she know?

Wait wait wait, what was that one thing that his siblings always said to him?

“Reeeeed Robin, yum~.”

Not even that got a response? Damn, he must really be out of it.

Time for drastic measures, then.

She tipped her head back as far back as it could go and then slammed her forehead against his. This evoked a lot of swearing from both parties. Apparently, headbutting people doesn’t help headaches.

When her head stopped ringing as loudly, she peeked her eyes open. “Sorry, checking to see if you were alive.”

He gave about as much of a nod as he could. “It’s… I understand why you had to do it.”

She gave a tentative smile. “Right. Still, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured her, then glanced down to see what they were working with. He bit his lip anxiously. “Ah, that’s not good,” he said after a few moments of consideration.

She rolled her eyes because, yeah, obviously. She didn’t say that aloud, it wasn’t productive, so she said: “I’m going to squirm. See if you can free your arms a little?”

“Do you think I have some kind of gadget in my gloves for every situation?”

“Don’t you?”

He hesitated. “I mean… yes, I do have something that could help us out of the ropes, but we are kinda over acid right now. How fast is your reaction time?”

She tipped her head from side to side with an awkward smile. “Not great.”

“Then maybe we should just wait for backup --.”

“Do you think they’ll get here before Joker does?”

“... you’re right. Start squirming --.”

“Wow, you two hate me that much? I’m hurt,” a voice cooed.

Marinette jumped out of her skin. She craned her neck to glare at Joker for scaring her…

And immediately regretted it. Why was his face not attached to his skull properly? Did he cut his own face off? Who even does that? Ew.

Red Robin scowled at him. “I can’t say we were all glad to hear you were out.”

“Red Robin...” she warned.

“Wow, not even old Batsy was happy to hear the news?”

“Nope. Didn’t say anything, actually.”

Joker’s smile wavered. “He didn’t?”

“Um, Red,” she tried again.

“Nothing,” he confirmed. “Not. A. Word.”

Joker didn’t seem to know what to do about this information. Batman wasn’t even paying attention to him? What was the point, then?

Marinette was also concerned about what was going on, but for a completely different reason. She leaned close to his ear and whispered: “Why are we trying to anger the psychopath?”

He gave as much of a shrug as he could while tied up. “If he’s talking he’s not trying to kill us.”

“And what if he gets angry enough to kill us?”

“He probably won’t.”

She winced. “Okay, I really don’t like your use of ‘probably’ there --.”

With both of their hands forced behind their backs, the only comfort he could really give was pressing his good cheek to hers. It shouldn’t have worked, but apparently life or death situations mess with your emotions.

“Just… trust me?” He pleaded quietly.

She sucked in a deep breath before turning to glare at Joker, who was still having a crisis over the fact that Batman didn’t care as much as he did. Well, she guessed that she had to take out her headache on someone. Might as well be the bitch in ugly clown makeup.

“You know, I don’t even understand why people are scared of you.”

Joker frowned and turned to look at her. “What?”

“I mean, I get why Poison Ivy is feared, I get why Mr. Freeze is feared… I even get Penguin and Riddler since they both have a high enough intellect to make up for their lack of powers… but you’re just… some guy.”

Joker gave her a cold look. “I could kill you.”

“So could a particularly determined cow, you’re not special.”

Red Robin snickered. She smiled, a little proud of herself for making him laugh.

Their grins were wiped off their faces when the rope holding them up dropped.

It caught them again dangerously close to the acid. Red Robin was a few centimeters from getting a new haircut. Marinette wondered, morbidly, whether her suit would go with her if she disintegrated.

“Not going to kill us, huh?”

“... well, I did say probably,” he mumbled, his face a little red.

She swallowed thickly. “If we live, I’m going to kill you.”

“Fair. Want to mess with him if he’s going to kill us anyways?”

“... yes.” She whipped around to glare at Joker again. “I mean, honestly, why aren’t you dead yet?”

“We don’t kill,” supplied Red Robin.

She grinned. “Sure, and I get that. I’m also not fond of murder... but is every citizen in Gotham just agreeing to not kill him? Does Batman spend all his time making sure that civilians don’t do it? Why hasn’t anyone seen him on the street and just tried to run him over?”

“... I mean, Robin hit him with the Batmobile once.”

“See?” She grinned. “And don’t even get me started on Punchline and your goons, Joker. How did you find so many people loyal to you?”

“I love him!” Said Punchline defensively.

“... sweetie, if you want a pasty white guy with green hair just watch 2016 Jacksepticeye.”

Red Robin nodded. “At least he’s kind of funny sometimes.”

“If you need the guy to be evil, how about the evil alter ego he made… what was he called?”

“Antisepticeye.”

“Ha, you’re a fucking nerd,” Marinette teased.

Red Robin blushed (or maybe that was just the blood slowly rushing to their heads from being upside down for so long) and pointedly ignored her: “Look up Antisepticeye. It’ll probably be healthier for you.”

Punchline didn’t have a retort for that. Marinette was deciding that was because she was considering it, not because she probably didn’t know who Jack/Antisepticeye was.

She pushed on: “And, hey, you goons don’t have to give Punchline over there the glory. Stab your boss. C’mon, it’ll be cool. Doubt he’s paying you more than whatever bounty is on his head, anyways.”

“If you’re going to rally henchmen maybe you shouldn’t call them ‘goons’,” suggested Red Robin.

She pouted. “But ‘goons’ sounds cuter.”

He opened his mouth to retort but she’d never know what he was going to say because, at that moment, Signal and Robin came busting in through the skylight.

~

Tim relaxed when he heard the glass shatter. Whether Marientte’s henchmen rallying had somehow worked or their backup had come, it at least meant that Joker and Punchline were distracted from wanting to murder them.

He struggled to crane his neck to see what was going on.

Oh. Damn. Damian was back from his angsting on the weird murder island? And he was here? Nevermind, he’d prefer Joker and Punchline. Damian was never going to let him live this down.

Speaking of Damian, a weight jumped onto their ropes and the three vigilantes became a pendulum. Tim grit his teeth tightly and Marinette let loose a long string of swears as their headaches worsened.

But, apparently, the world wasn’t done with them. Damian sliced the line at the highest point and they went flying across the room. Tim was the unlucky one on the bottom when they hit the ground, which he doubted was an accident.

Damian left them to deal with things on their own from there. Least he could have done was cut them free with his katana, but Tim supposed that was too much to wish for from the youngest brother.

He rested his head back against the cool floor for a second. He could feel Marinette stretch across his shoulder to do the same. They sighed in relief. This was the closest they had come to treating their headaches and wow was it nice.

But, frankly, resting in the middle of a fight isn’t a great idea. So, they wriggled around on the floor until he was able to flick open the tiny knife in the index finger of his gloves and cut the rope binding them without, y’know, cutting one of them instead.

Freedom! What did they do with this newfound freedom, you may ask? Scratch their heads. Turns out chloroform sucks for many reasons and one of those is that it’s a major skin irritant.

He also vomited. Thank god they’d been freed. He’d been only a few seconds away from throwing up on Marinette. He felt especially bad about that when she peeled a hand from her itching to hold his hair away from his face.

The fight was over soon enough. Duke and Damian came over to watch the two of them attempting to peel their skin off layer by layer.

“Pathetic,” chided Damian.

“Don’t be a dick --.” Marinette cut herself off, her hand flying to her mouth. “I swore in front of a baby.”

“I’m twelve!”

“Exactly: a baby.” She reached out and cupped a very affronted Damian’s face in her hands. “Look, you still have baby fat! You shouldn’t be fighting crime!”

Tim couldn’t tell if she was messing with Damian for being rude to them or if she genuinely saw him as a little kid. He wasn’t going to correct her. She’d remember he was a gremlin soon enough.

Damian wrenched his face from her grip. “If I hadn’t come you two would have been burned in acid.”

“Please, we all know Signal probably could have dealt with this entirely on his own,” Marinette waved him off.

Duke rested a hand over his heart like he was touched.

Tim rolled his eyes and pulled Marinette to him, resting his head on top of hers lazily. “We should get a checkup at the cave. Chloroform has… not nice effects and we both rolled around in it a little while fighting.”

Duke and Damian both winced, but Marinette didn’t seem all that concerned.

“I’ll be fine. My immune system is enhanced by --.”

Duke clapped his hands by her ears as loudly as he could. Neither Marinette nor Tim were particularly happy about it.

“Behold: a headache, one of the main symptoms of chloroform. Your face also has some red streaks, so don’t even try to deny that the chloroform is affecting you.”

“I take back my praise, I’ve decided I hate you,” she murmured, massaging her temples.

“I just remembered that I need the siren on my bike on to tell all the other bats we’ll need them at the cave...”

“Wait, no --.”

~

Marinette glared at Black Bat and Spoiler. The batboys had left the infirmary area for her own comfort and that was nice of them but she would really prefer if she hadn’t had to come at all.

Now she sat in some of Black Bat’s pajamas and one of Spoiler’s spare masks as they inspected her.

Her nose scrunched as Black Bat drew blood from her arm.

“This is dumb. I don’t need this.”

“We’ve been told. Humor us?” Spoiler said and, though Marinette couldn’t see her face from where she was, she knew she was rolling her eyes.

“I would if you were actually funny.”

“I think we can definitely put her down for irritability,” commented Spoiler.

Black Bat nodded and dutifully wrote it down. Traitor.

The cool metal of a stethoscope was pressed to her back and she cringed.

“Deep breaths.”

Marinette complied, however reluctantly. Might as well get all this bullshit over with as soon as possible.

… she was regretting that decision, now, though.

She gave Batman a cold look. “You can’t keep me here.”

“You need to stay so we can monitor your state overnight. You could have asphyxiated.”

“But we didn’t,” complained Red Robin, who looked just as annoyed about this as she was.

“We have lives, B,” she said.

“You weren’t going to do anything other than patrols tonight, don’t act like I’m tearing you away from something important.”

“The protection of the city is important,” Red argued.

“Neither of you would be much help tonight in the state you’re in, anyways.”

Red Robin stuck his lower lip out in a pout. Marinette gave her best puppy-dog eyes.

Batman wasn’t moved. “If you need something, Agent A will provide it.”

She blinked, eyes returning to normal in her confusion. “Who --?”

He disappeared into the shadows before she could finish the conversation, something she was, unfortunately, getting used to.

Marinette scowled at where he had last been.

Maybe she should have expected this, maybe if she had been less out of it she would have. They had given her pajamas when she’d had clothes and insisted on cleaning her old ones ‘for chloroform’. The checkup might have been a genuine checkup on her state, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered what the results were. She was always going to end up staying the night in the cold, dingy cave filled with bats.

She sighed and laid back against the stone floors. She heard Red Robin groan and looked up to see he had been locked out of the Batcomputer for the night. He leaned back in his chair and mumbled curses.

She giggled at his distress and, despite himself, a tiny grin poked at his lips.

“Want to race to see who can hack into it first?” She suggested.

He raised an eyebrow at her under his domino. “Think you can win?”

“Considering I don’t know that much about hacking, I’m going to say probably not.”

A wide smile spread across his face, now, and he waved her over. She took a seat on the desk beside the keyboard and he started teaching her everything.

Most of what he said, while technically heard, wasn’t exactly understood. She couldn’t concentrate. It was the first time she had seen him in anything but his vigilante suit and she decided that that was a crime because he looked so cute in the Batman-themed pajamas. Furthermore, the way his long hair was pushed back by a headband to keep it out of the green paste spread over his face to alleviate the chloroform’s rash reminded her of a spa day in all those movies.

And then there was the smile. It made her heart flutter in her chest because she was so used to his grins but this was just a genuine smile. He looked so passionate about the intricacies of cyber crime. She was almost sad about the domino hiding his eyes because she wanted to see the way they lit up while he explained different ways viruses could be accidentally downloaded to devices.

Basically, she was a mess for this random cute guy she worked with. She had never seen him so casual and at ease and it felt far more intimate than it maybe should.

She rested her head on her hand, nodding along as he talked about data encryption versus decoding.

Well, maybe a forced sleepover in the Batcave wouldn’t be so bad...

~

Tim was suffering a lot more than he would ever admit, and only a small part of it was due to chloroform.

He was going to be having a sleepover with one of his idols and he was going to be spending a large amount of the time trying not to throw up. And she could totally tell, too, why else would she be watching him so intensely? Someone kill him, please. He was so glad he had a secret identity because he didn’t know how he would manage if she thought Tim Drake-Wayne was a loser.

Granted, she was going to think Red Robin was a loser... but at least he had a second chance as Tim.

He rested his chin on the back of his chair. He had hacked into the Batcomputer already but it was a relatively dull night out on patrols and he wasn’t eager to be yelled at for showing Marinette some files on top of already hacking into them when he wasn’t supposed to.

“Wanna do something?”

She grinned. “Is there anything to do here other than train?”

“... nothing approved.”

She tipped her head to the side. “And of the things that aren’t approved?”

He matched her grin. “Well…”

And that was how he ended up setting up a movie projector in the cave so they could watch Groundhog Day. Marinette had taken to making them a pillow fort.

Duke stumbled down the steps, half awake, and raised his eyebrows at them from behind his domino. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that they had made and took a long sip before sending the two of them a wary look. “Do I want to know?”

Marinette didn’t look up from her and Tikki’s base construction. “Dunno. Do you want to watch Groundhog Day with us?”

He frowned. “Isn’t that the one where that guy in a time loop stalks his co-worker until he knows enough to make her fall in love with him?”

“Just say you don’t like romcoms and go,” Marinette irritably.

“I’m fine with romcoms, it’s just… a little messed up that he uses the knowledge he gets from being in a time loop to ensure she falls for him?”

“It’s a story about self-improvement,” Tim said, sending his brother a glare. “He grows as a person until he is worthy of her love.”

“Him learning about her is part of his arc. He starts off selfish and he ends it with a deeper appreciation for other people,” agreed Marinette.

Duke held his free hand up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Enjoy your stalker movie.”

“It’s not a --,” Tim tried to argue, but Duke was already heading back upstairs.

He huffed a little and finished setting up the computer and projector, then took a seat in the pillow fort. She poured each of them a cup of coffee, put a straw in hers to maintain her identity, and then took a seat beside him.

He took it from her with a bright smile and turned on the movie.

She rested her head on his shoulder as the happy-go-lucky music started up.

Unfortunately for them, they didn’t manage to stay awake for all that long. Duke had drugged the coffee pot.

~

Marinette shifted awake a while later and promptly decided that being awake sucked.

Nothing about her current situation sucked, of course. At some point during the night they had fallen asleep and now she was laying half on top of Red Robin, clinging to him like a koala. He didn’t seem all that upset about it, though, with his arm wrapped around her and his face buried in her hair.

Unfortunately, the time on the bottom right of the Batcomputer’s screen told her she didn’t have much time to enjoy it.

She started the slow process of extracting herself from him. Getting the arm off of herself was easy, getting his face away from her head was much harder (this wasn’t helped by the fact that the paste on his face had stuck to her hair).

There was one scare where she thought he was going to wake up. She pushed herself off of his chest and he took a long breath in. Marinette froze, watching his lips tighten… and then he turned over in his sleep.

Oops, apparently she’d been suffocating him a little in her sleep. Sorry, Red.

Well, at least she was free now.

She slipped out of the pillow fort and glanced at the time again.

Even less time to do what she needed. Because that’s how time works.

She sighed and called Tikki over with a tiny wave of her hand, walking over the edge of the railing. She looked down at the abyss that stretched many feet below.

Tikki couldn’t have looked more disapproving if she tried.

“It’s just a little insurance,” Marinette signed.

This didn’t make Tikki any less upset with her, but she hadn’t really expected it to. She signed for her transformation. She tied herself to the railing with her yoyo as a precaution and then hooked her legs around the railing.

And down she went.

She flexed at an awkward angle, flashlight in her mouth, and stuck a tracker to the bottom of the platform.

And, really, she wasn’t intending on using it. Like she said, it was just insurance. They had drawn blood from her earlier and she knew for a fact that it wasn’t necessary for chloroform inhalation. The only reason that made sense for that was that they wanted to check and see if she had inhaled some but they already knew that so… what did they want with her blood?

She was willing to bet it had something to do with her secret identity. And, hey, she didn’t particularly care if they knew her identity, she trusted them, but if it ever got out because of them revealing then who the bats were would be 1) revenge and 2) a good distraction.

“Hey --?”

Thank the kwamis she had tied herself to the railing because she’d been surprised enough to let go of the platform.

“Shit, sorry!” Said Red Robin.

She pulled herself back up onto the platform with his help and then collapsed on the cool stone. She spat the flashlight from her mouth. “Fuuuuuuck, don’t do that again, please.”

“Sorry,” he said again. Then he glanced back at where she had been and, momentarily, his lips pulled into a frown. “I gotta ask: what were you doing?”

“Hm?”

Shitshitshit.

“Oh, I wanted to see if there was anything down there or if it was just for The Aesthetic.”

“Why not just use your yoyo to go down?”

She shuddered. “The flashlight barely did anything. Would you want to go down into that darkness with no clue even how far down it goes?”

He seemed to accept the answer. “It’s an old iron mine. No one uses it anymore, though.”

She nodded her understanding.

She pushed herself back up to a sitting position and looked at him.

“The bats don’t get back for a while and we’re still on lockdown, so… want to do something?”

~

Damian was the first one to get home. Apparently he had broken a leg on patrol. This was fine (well, maybe he shouldn’t have been driving himself, but whatever).

What was not fine was that he had promptly decided to be an asshole.

Tim and Marinette had been playing Minecraft on the Batcomputer and, like all younger brothers, Damian asked to play.

And, like all older brothers, Tim barely looked up from his controller to tell him: “No.”

Damian looked to be on the verge of a meltdown.

Marinette sighed and sent Tim a tired look. “Red, don’t be mean. He’s just a kid. There’s more controllers, we can just give him one.”

“But…” He started. Damian was a terrible partner to play Minecraft with because he never helped out with anything except for the farm.

However, Marinette was looking at him expectantly. Tim bit his lip, considering.

Damian looked between the two of them and a wicked grin spread across his face and oh no.

Damian took a seat next to Marinette and gave her puppy-dog eyes (a real feat, considering the fact that he was wearing a domino and therefore his eyes were invisible). “Miss Ladybug, can’t you please make him let me play?”

Marinette gave Tim a tired look. “Red, c’mon, just for a bit.”

Damian smirked a little but, by the time Marinette turned back around, he had schooled his face back into a pout.

She handed him her controller. “You can have mine. I’ll find another for myself.”

The two watched her leave and Tim sent his younger brother a glare. “I can’t believe you would embarrass yourself this much just to play a game.”

“Anything to annoy you, ‘big bro’.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but then Marinette came back and all he could do was send him a glare behind her back.

Damian retaliated by sitting himself on Marinette’s lap. She looked down, amusement making her eyes crinkle, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. Damian smirked and stuck his tongue out at Tim.

That little shit.

And it continued on for hours while the three of them waited for the rest of the bats to come back. Damian would cling to Marinette in some way and he would become the bad guy for glaring at a child. He was seriously considering breaking the No Killing Rule for this kid.

Finally, though, people started coming back and apparently Damian thought it too embarrassing to do such a thing in front of more than just the person he was trying to annoy because he clambered off her lap to play just a little bit away.

Bruce was the last one to come in and he looked at his kids with the patented Batdad Glare because they had managed to drag Steph into playing with them (without much effort) and Cass into watching (with much more effort). Which meant that there were currently five family disappointments. Yay them.

Tim smiled innocently. “What? We got bored. Maybe you should let us out so this doesn’t happen again.”

“I’m keeping you here for your own safety.”

Marinette and Tim both groaned.

“I have work to do.”

“Me, too.”

Bruce didn’t relent because he was a stubborn asshole.

But that was fine. They really hadn’t expected them to. Tim glanced at Marinette and she twirled her index finger against her flat palm, the sign for ‘start’.

One flash and smoke bomb later, the two of them were running as fast as they could to his bike. He grinned as he helped his giggling friend get on and hopped up himself. Arms wrapped around him tightly and her face buried in his back. They tore out of the cave, giggling all the while.