#I saw wicked part one this morning

[himblebo]

What’s wrong babe? You’re thinking about Glinda’s face before she is handed the torch to light the funeral effigy of her friend? Her best friend who was fundamental to the woman she has become? The woman that she abandoned at the most pivotal moment of their lives in an act of cowardice that she has spent the rest of her life running from? Her best friend that, through her own lack of action when it counted most, is widely believed to have deserved her murder?

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who got really drunk after a misunderstanding you left him to ponder upon one morning when you left for work. You missed a part of your routinely goodbye to him and at first it didn't bother him. He understood that you were running late, but once he started chugging the cold drinks and he sat with the sentiment, he realized it did strike him.

He hated the entire process of getting drunk, hated that drinking was unbearable unless it was chased with sweet kisses from you, but there he was, downing bottle after bottle. He was starting to feel liquid full but even in this intoxicated state he didn't want to put down the bottles. At some point he starting feeling uncomfortable being by himself and didn't want to feel that way anymore, so he called and texted you. Multiple times. You finally picked up after the eighth call.

-Hi, baby! Sorry, I missed your calls. I just left work and i'm heading home.-

-Baby? Who are you calling baby?- He scoffs, a roll of his eyes following.

-You... Toji. It's you. Who else would I be calling baby?-

-Honestly, I...- He laughs, the sound not coming off as one of joy with the next words he speaks. -I didn't think you even loved me enough to give me stupid pet names. I feel very unloved by you and... mhm, just want you to know that.-

Now, that's just entirely untrue and it hurts to hear. You prove your love for him every day. What is this sudden false claim against you?

-Toji, love, what are you saying? I'm coming home, already. Maybe we should talk in person. This is hard to discuss over the phone.-

-Uh-huh, you do that.- He sighs, heavily, his eyes lidding with sluggishness. -Can't win a verbal argument, s-so you're gonna come over here and try to seduce me with your pretty face. I'm just gonna say no when you try to touch me. Just no.-

-I'll see you in a bit, Toji.- you say, before abruptly hanging up.

He sounded off. You knew something was up the second you saw his eight missed calls and a stack of messages just saying 'hey'.

Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your bag to unlock the front door. The house was steady, no sign of Toji watching TV in the living room or of the shower running. You walked further in, calling his name. It was kind of eery walking through your silent house. You also knew of Toji's tendency of scaring you, so you were on guard for that as you paced around the house. You had one more room to check and it was the bedroom. You dragged your feet over to the room, knocking when you noticed the door was closed. There was no answer after two more knocks so you just opened the door.

The sound startled Toji who was lying against the headboard of the bed, almost falling asleep. The second he saw you his demeanor changed. He perked up like a dog when their owner comes home, before melting back to the stoic state he had been sitting in.

"Hey," you say, almost tentatively, as you walk towards your shared bed, sitting down on the edge. You're met with an acknowledging hum of a response. "What's wrong, baby?"

"There you go calling me baby again. Baby is for people who love each other, so stop it."

You look over the bed, spotting the evidence that led to the bite in his attitude towards you— those bottles that spill the remaining drops of their content and Toji's backwash onto the bed, making the sheets reek of alcohol.

"Well, I love you, so no, i'm not gonna stop calling you baby."

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing like a child. "That so? It didn't seem that way this morning. I've never felt so forgotten about by you."

"I told you I was gonna be late for work, but you insisted on keeping me trapped beneath you. Bring that part to light, handsome." You can see the corners of his lips twitching. He's holding back the most wicked smirk at the short burst of memories from the morning. "Plus, I still gave you your goodbye kiss, so what are you on about?"

"You didn't say 'I love you'. That's part of goodbye with you, so you can't blame me for feeling this way." His eyes express something of hurt. Maybe it's enhanced by the drinks he had, but you can't leave him that way.

"You're loved, baby. Very much so. Me not saying it this one time doesn't diminish the actual feeling." He's been reduced to a cub over this, so as his lover, you step in to mend the feelings that were grazed.

"Can you..." he rasps, patting his thigh, signaling for you to sit. You drag yourself towards him, and plop yourself onto his lap. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he rambles on about how you can't forget to say 'I love you' to him ever again, even if it's a blurted, rushed one that he doesn't get a chance to respond to as you rush out the door.

The look he reserves for you is entirely soft, his hands are hot against your clothed back as they feel the warm body he's missed for hours. "I still..." he pauses to sigh, tiredness imbued into the sound. "Still want you to call me baby," he starts again. "I was just bummed. Don't stop calling me baby. Don't ever do that." He's letting his hands roam all over you. Your back, your waist, your hips—everything.

"Are you gonna let me touch you or are you gonna say 'no'?" You grin, remembering his words, verbatim, just incase he tries to tell you he never said them.

"Why aren't you touching me? Why would I not want you to touch me?" He looks insulted by the question and you have half a mind to remind him of what he said to you on the phone, but the heat in his eyes dies out as quickly as it appeared. "Really need a hug, mama. Please, hug," he says, the last part muffled by your chest as he keeps his face buried into it.

You held him tight and murmured 'I love you' countless times, while he hummed in response and groaned quietly as you ran your fingers through his hair.

[juletheghoul]

regrets

a/n: I cannot seem to stop myself from taking these amazing requests and going on a rampage because Marcus Acacius is my literal muse at this point. I bought my tickets for the movie and I am not going to know how to fucking act in that theatre. I sort of ran with this request, and inevitably it turned into feelings! This un-beta'd, barely edited request. All mistakes and errors are mine! Hope you enjoy what I came up with! (this is before the last chapter)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, talk of war, Marcus is a soft boi at heart and he has some regrets about being a hoe in his younger days, *feelings*, also he takes a lil tumble but he's fine! Marcus gets wine-drunk, but he's still in control of his faculties, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.2k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

His face lit up, brighter and happier than you’d seen him, maybe ever. 

You smile to yourself from your place behind him, basking in the warmth of his mirth. The visitor had come unannounced but more welcome than any before him. An old, dear friend from his days as a mere footsoldier in the Roman army. Marcus opened his arms to the man, ushering him into his home with an almost uncharacteristic warmth–to anyone who didn’t truly know him. 

“Gods, but it has been years has it not Marcus? Since our days on the march?” The man asks him, a tired sigh on his breath. 

“Indeed it has. An age, we were mere boys then.” Marcus drains his wine and holds the cup out, you are already there, pouring just as it reaches you.

“Troublesome boys, wicked things were we not? We seemed to attract all kinds of mischief.” The man laughs, and Marcus joins, although his laughter is laced with a groan, peppered with shame. 

“Do not remind me, we were terrors.” Marcus hides his face behind his cup, drinking with his eyes downcast and it’s that aversion that piques your interest. Visions of a younger, wilder Marcus fill your mind's eye, what had he done? The man laughs, and you keep your vigil behind your Dominus. 

“I hold the memories dear, even the unsavoury ones.” The man raises his cup, and Marcus bows his head, agreeing. “Wish I had kept the looks of my youth as you have old friend.” They laugh together, clinking their cups and remembering things they do not say out loud. 

The night wears on, and they drink until the hour grows late. When they begin to yawn, Marcus insists the man stays.

“Girl, see to the preparations of a room and then come tend to me.” He speaks slowly, carefully.

“Yes Dominus.” You smile, despite yourself.

-

When you walk into his room, he sits on his bed, staring at nothing.

“Dominus, are you well?” His eyes lock on you, he sways a little, only a little.

“Too much wine, I will feel this in the morning.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face as you approach. “I should have known.” There is no anger in him, only a resigned acceptance. 

“If I may be so bold Dominus, it seemed you were enjoying yourself.” You bring the basin over and dip a fresh piece of linen, his eyes track your movements.

“I saw a happiness in you that I have not seen before, I would see it more often if I had any say.” He tilts his face up to yours, and you cleanse it softly, smiling at the way his eyes close.

“Would you now, Girl, do you think me unhappy?” His voice is soft, but gravelly. It awakens the parts of your body that always awaken for him. It worsens when his hands land on your hips, pulling you to stand between his spread legs.

“No Dominus, well, at times yes. Not unhappy per say, but not the way I saw you tonight.”

“I am happy, Girl. I am happier than I have been in ages.” His hands rub at your hips, sliding down to grab at your ass. 

“It fills my heart with joy to hear that.” You run your fingers through his hair, admiring the flush in his cheeks, the sparkle of candlelight in his eyes. 

“And you? Are you happy, Girl?” He holds onto you, eyes locking onto yours and it feels bigger than it should, the question on his tongue.

“Yes Dominus, I am.”  A long, pregnant moment passes and the tension rises, swelling bigger and bigger. Your heart races and then he rises, or, he tries to.

Water from the basin had splashed onto the floor, and he slips. His eyes widen with shock as he lands on his backside on the floor at your feet. 

He sits in shock, his tunic pooling high on his thighs and it’s almost like someone else’s voice comes out of your mouth, a sharp bark of laughter comes out before you clap your hands to your mouth. 

He stares up at you, the shock of the fall, the shock of your laughter, the wine, the moment—he laughs; you both laugh. Deep, loud belly laughs fill the room until tears fall from your eyes, until he holds his stomach. Any fear, any tension is gone with the crinkle of his eyes and the rare glimpse of his dimple.

“Oh Gods, I am of a form.” He gets it out eventually, smiling wide from his place on the floor. 

“Apologies Dominus—“ the ache in your belly is so great you hold onto his bed. He waves away your apology, and carefully rises. “I did not mean to laugh—“

“Peace girl, it was something to laugh at.” He stands, careful of the offending spill and removes his tunic. “The sound of your laughter is welcome, always. I do not think you cruel.” 

You don’t know how to respond, the wine has brought down his guard and made him something open, something honest and human–nothing like he is when he is too long away from the battlefield, nothing like he is when his station in this life pulls at him. 

“I have not seen my friend in many years, it was nice to speak to him, to bask in the memories of my younger days. Even the ones I’d rather forget.” You let him speak, the novelty of his reminiscing making you smile as you prepare his bed for sleep. 

“It was worth the price I will pay in the morning.” You bite your lip, the questions–the curiosity eat away at you as you move around the room, blowing out a few of the candles. 

“I can see the turmoil, Girl, ask and I will alleviate.” He smiles, sitting on his bed. 

“Apologies Dominus, I wish to know what mischief you sought out, or rather, sought you out? I cannot picture you a terror.” You take the basin away and he lets out a huff of laughter. 

“Do not lie to me, Girl. You have seen my dark moods, I am a terror often.” He waves away the expression of shock, “You know my meaning. In truth I can be brutal, I know this, but it is in battle. In my younger days, on the march I was unruly. I found it hard to follow commands, so sure of myself–to my detriment–that I knew better, that I was wiser than those above my station. I paid for it and learned, grew wise but in those early days, we were rebellious.” He smiles, fondness and the ghosts of his past fresh in his mind. 

You finish your duties as he speaks but are loathe to leave him, so you come closer, feigning at straightening out his sheets and fussing at his bed as he speaks. 

“I was also cruel.” The smile morphs then, into something ashamed.

“Cruel? I do not believe it Dominus–” He raises a hand and your speech dies.

“I was, Girl. Exceedingly cruel, to women. I broke many a heart, took the virginity offered without a care and left them without so much as a word.” He shuts his eyes tight then and the playful, cheerful mood is lost. “I was not concerned with their feelings, I cared not about their honour, I simply took, and left like the thief I was.” He stares at his hands and although it was true, it had been cruel of him, it was the way most soldiers were. No right, no wrong, just the way of this world. 

“Do you regret it, Dominus?” You stand before him again, the same tableau as before.

“Yes, I do, Girl. I regret the hurt I caused, the selfishness of youth.” 

“That is enough then, I think. That you feel it this deeply, that you would change it if you could, that is enough. You need torture yourself no more, Dominus.” Your palm cups his face and he leans into it with a pained expression for a moment before his arms wrap around your waist. His face nuzzles against the valley between your breasts and you feel the way he breathes in your scent. 

“Stay with me.” He pulls at your tunic, lifting it up and off in one swift motion before pressing kisses to your skin. There is a desire shining in his eyes. For your body, yes, but there are memories he is rewriting with you now, something kinder, something infused with more want, with love—the thought pops up and you brush it away.

“Do you not desire sleep Dominus? You had said the wine–oh–” His mouth takes your nipple in a steady suck, pulling a soft moan from your lips, and any and all concerns about his state out of your head. 

He pulls away, flattening his tongue against the bud before moving to the next. 

“No amount of wine could dampen my desire for you, Girl. Shall I stop?” He watches you, eyes locked as he takes the other nipple in his mouth and you shake your head no. His teeth bite, the little shock of pain heightens the pleasure and your fingers grip his hair harder than you mean to but it only makes him moan into your skin as he soothes with his tongue. 

Slick pools at the mouth of your cunt, the desire for him so great it makes you ache. A sharp, hollow pain, like hunger pangs for his gift, for his body, for his love something whispers again, and again you ignore it.

“God’s Girl, you bring out a madness in me–” He pulls you down, his kiss so feral it almost hurts. Teeth clicking while you taste his wine-drenched tongue. You move to straddle him but you barely manage to sit before you find yourself on your back in the bed you’d just prepared. 

His kiss is all-consuming, it is contagious–it pulls you into the depths of his madness. When he pulls away, you’re almost disoriented. 

“Spread those pretty thighs for me, Girl, let me see what’s mine.” You bite your lip, skin on fire as you obey. He kneels between your spread legs, hand slipping down to palm himself as he watches you slip your hand down towards the silky hair at the juncture of your thighs. “Spread it open, I would see how wet you are.” he strokes himself slowly, eyes glazed as you follow his instructions, spreading yourself wide for his gaze. 

It feels depraved in the best way, to have him watch you while he pleasures himself. There is a power flowing through your veins, something sweet and wicked and a boldness grabs hold of you. You dip your fingers low to spread the arousal onto your fingers, scoop some of it up to swirl against your clit. 

“This is what I do when you do not call for me, Dominus. I touch myself like this, and think of you.” His hand lands on your knee, holding your leg up as he moans, wantonly at your admission. 

“What do you think of Girl? Tell me–” He squeezes at his cock, brow furrowed while his eyes rake over you. 

“I think of you taking me Dominus, I think of how good you feel, how big you are, how I can feel you for days, how I want nothing more than for you to come into my chamber and make me yours.” Your fingers speed up, the pleasure heightened by the depravity of it. 

“Do you flutter at the thought of me giving you this?” He presses the tip of himself to your entrance, not pushing inside but letting you feel him there. 

“Yes–” It’s a pained moan. The blunt tip of him spreads you just enough to tease, it’s an exquisite torture, one that could make you cry with arousal. 

“Tell me you want it, tell me you’ll die without it, tell me you want me, Girl.” He leans forward a little, enough to make you chase the relief of him but his grip at your knee moves down to your hip, holding you there. Your fingers almost lose their rhythm. You let out a pitiful whine. 

“Tell me, and I’ll give it to you, tell me you want me, tell me–” He begs now, and you nod frantically. 

“I need you Dominus, I need you, I will die without you, I beg of you, give me the relief of your body.” Your tone is high, something frantic, something pathetic, something desperate but it soothes something in him. 

It’s a tidal wave when he shoves himself inside to the hilt. The climax spreads through every vein, through your fingers and toes through his steady strokes. He falls to cover your body with his, his tongue licking into your mouth, every nerve alight as he moans into your mouth, his cock spilling his own passion deep into your womb within a few seconds.

“God’s above, I, that was–” He breathes hard against your mouth, his eyes darting about your face as you both pulse in and around one another, “I–” He seems a little lost for words. The euphoria is still bright in your body, and so you save him from himself. You pull him down for a kiss, soft and languid as you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. 

“Shall I return to my chambers Dominus? Or shall I stay?” You push his hair back. The wine has made him forget himself, has made him forget that you are just his Girl, you have to remind him.

For the sake of your poor heart on the morrow.

“Stay.” You nod. 

–

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi  @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed  @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue @ladylovesloki @alexiamargot06 @purple-fig @picketniffler @somedayheaven @flw3rr @lizzie-cakes

[pimpnchips]

Needed Me

Part 1

Natasha x ‘Ex’!wife Reader

Warnings: angst, mind-games, possessive!nat, toxicity.

Summary : Natasha, your ‘ex’ wife come’s around to help you realize that you’re forever hers.

“I don’t care about your sad sob of a story, Natasha” you stated, picking up your son from his crib. The last thing you wanted in your life is your ‘ex’-wife in your house agonizing you.

“Just listen to me, detka.” She whined, rolling her neck around. Her patience running thin when she sees you rolling your eyes at her antics.

Late of last year you and natasha were in the prime of your relationship but a few months ago she started not showing up home until mornings. Accusing you of cheating when you were clearly taking care of your children. The two of you just had your newborn baby while still tending to your 6 year old daughter. Everyday, you saw less and less of Natasha and every time you tried to confront her about her actions she lashed out.

Telling you, “Y/n do you fucking hear yourself, accusing me of shit when I support this goddam house.”

It was like this every month, arguing then having sex and you couldn’t bare to have your children watch there parents not show an ounce of love to each other.

“Natasha, fuck you.”

Your voice lower then before to try not to wake the sleeping baby in your arms.

“How’d you think our kids got here?” She rhetorically whispered, looking down at her shoes. Natasha was never one to be completely serious with you.

You turned around, side eyeing your ex wife.

Needless to say you were fed up with her antics but deep down you missed them, you missed her. There was truly nothing that could stop you from loving her but there were things that could stop you from tolerating her.

There were so many times you hated Natasha but nothing could stop you from bending over for her right here and right now. Her flexed muscles as she made sudden moves, her plumped lips, the way she looked at you with darkened eyes.

“We could be a family again if you weren’t so damn stubborn all the time” she licked her lips, walking over to where you were. Standing behind you.

Your breathing get shaky with anticipation.

The red head brushed her crotch against you. Making you hold back a moan that so desperately needed to be released.

“I gave these children to you” she smugged, brushing her thumb over baby Mateo’s head.

“I’ll be damned if you take my fucking family away from me, I own you.” Her lips on your ear and her whispers sending chills down your spine.

“You weren’t acting like a wife to me, nat” you say softly, trying to keep your composure.

You exhale when she backs away and takes Mateo out of your hands. Confusion written on your face when she sets him back down into his crib.

“I’m moving back in tomorrow, detka.”

“I got stark to forge those papers. Play time is over, moya lyubov”

She placed her hands over your cheeks. Your face stunned, “What?”

She chuckles as she leans in to kiss your soft lips and you hesitate to kiss back until she forces her tongue into your mouth by squeezing your neck harshly. The two pair of lips in sync, your head starting to get fuzzy.

Like you were submitting to her, kneeling to her.

You knew this was wrong but oh did it feel so right. ‘She can change,’ you convinced yourself.

The craving you felt for Natasha was wicked that it felt like a spell.

The kiss deepened, until Natasha backed away.

“You were always my wife baby, and that’ll never change” she smirked, gripping your hips with satisfaction.

“I should ruin that pretty pussy for all the time you fucking wasted”

Natasha looks deep into your eyes.

You felt small under her watch and she loved it.

“Don’t look so defeated, I know yo - ” She started to say before the sound of small feet pattering towards the door in a hurry.

The both of you face the door of the bedroom, seeing it opening. Revealing your 6 year old daughter, Lena, the moment she saw Natasha her face lit up with joy.

“Mama?!” her angelic voice yelled, running towards Natasha.

She picked her up with a smile, “Hey baby!, mama’s missed you so much.”

Lena giggled with her rosy cheeks and the red hair she inherited from Natasha in a mess, insinuating that she just woke up from a nap.

“Are you staying, mama?” She said sadly, looking up to Natasha with puppy dog eyes.

You looked down as Natasha shot you a look with a grin.

“Yes I am, sweetheart, I even got you some things” she kisses over her cheeks, “ We can open them after mommy makes dinner, right baby?” Nat looks in your direction expecting you to answer to her.

You roll your eyes, holding back a snarky comment because for the sake of your daughter.

“Of course, we’ll open presents after I make dinner,” you tell Lena, tickling her stomach. She backs away and throws her head back in a fit of giggles.

Natasha watches the interaction now realizing how much she missed her family and the laughs they’ve all had. The smile on her face never fading away as the laughs continues.

“Go play detka, me and mommy have to talk” she says, letting her down off her hips.

Lena whines, “Mama I don’t wanna play right now!”

You sighed, “baby go to your room, come on we’re not doing this again.”

She looks up at you with her face scrunched up in anger. In protest she sat done on the floor, trying to stand her ground.

Lately shes acted very disobedient but you haven’t had Nat here to discipline her when needed.

“Get off the floor Yelena” Natasha raised her voice slightly.

Lena huffs, “No.”

“No!” She yells, kicking her feet up and off the ground, screaming until she couldn’t anymore.

Natasha picks her up and storms out the room. The sounds of your daughters feet kicking everything it came across to get out of Natasha’s grip.

“I am your mother yelena, you respect me or you sit in the corner and you think about what you did!”

As soon as you here Natasha’s yell, you decide to walk to Lena’s room to calm her down. Their personalities tend to clash once in a while because your daughter is like her mini me.

One Natasha is already enough but two are hell on earth if you let it get out of control.

“Baby, calm down she probably just wanted to spend some time with you.” You grab Natasha’s face making her look at you. Her face softened when she felt your touch.

You know you’re supposed to be standing your ground right now, knowing that Natasha is still your wife after her act of getting fake papers for you to sign.

Besides that you’ll forever be in love with who she is so staying upset with her is impossible. Also considering you’re the mother of her children.

“Lena, my love, can you stay in here for just a minute and we’ll come back to play with you, okay?”

Lena nods her head ‘okay mommy’

“Alright baby, we love you” you say, grabbing Natasha and shutting the door behind you.

Natasha shuffled her feet in-front of you, “I don’t need a lecture right now, y/n”

You fix the collar of her button shirt, “I’m not, I know how much you love our kids” You mutter, running your hands down her chest.

She smirks at your movements, not entirely sure what you were doing but she wasn’t going to ruin it by asking any questions.

You looked up at your wife, “Just because I’m warming up to you right now doesn’t mean you’re getting any tonight, just so you know”

Her breath hitched as your hand squeezed her cock. You chuckled, “Don’t forget who you married Natasha, I’m not on my knees at your mercy because I’m weak.”

“I’m your fucking wife so treat me like it” You whispered sternly, leaning in and kissing the tip of her ear.

Natasha stood shocked but not surprised. The reason she married you was because you kept her on her toes. Your wife knew you weren’t weak but submissive to her and she loved it but there were times where you left her begging for more.

For you.

[save-a-forest-ride-a-bear]

🗒 ꒰⸝⸝₊ General Dating Headcanons ❛ ✧

Featuring: Astarion, Gale, Wyll & Halsin

# Note: content warning for very brief talk of abuse and general trauma back to navigation ´ˎ˗

🌿┊ASTARION

Talk about touch and attention starved. This guy wouldn't know a healthy relationship if it hit him in the face. Whenever you're nice to him or touch him without any innuendo, he's on edge. You must want something from him. Why else would you be doing this? It doesn't make sense.

Speaking of which, touching him out of nowhere usually doesn't end well. He has a tendency to flinch. He cackles and says he just thought he saw a bug, "Silly me," but you both know better than that.

He grows used to it, however. It just takes some warming up to. Eventually, the discomfort fades, replaced by a yearning so strong he swore he felt his heart beat again. When his brain realizes you don't want to hurt him and it's safe to be around you, he starts craving more contact. He's too prideful to ask, but he's not good at hiding it, either.

He loves any kind of compliment, don't get him wrong, but the ones that have nothing to do with his appearance seem to stick more. He's heard every single little praise possible for his face and body — but for his personality? For his mannerisms? If it ever happened before, he can't remember it.

Insists he doesn't like cuddling and only does it because you want to. But the one night you didn't, you woke up to him clinging to you anyway. He said he must've done so in his sleep, completely ignoring the fact elves can't sleep. Deception: critical failure.

Surprisingly protective. If you get hurt during a fight he goes ham on the enemy while yelling for someone else to take care of your wounds right now. He lost everything he had after Cazador — lost even himself to the hands of that sick, wicked man. He can't afford to lose you too.

The relationship started with him trying to manipulate you, sure, but that's not the case anymore. He cares. He genuinely cares for something other than himself for the first time in two centuries, and he's scared you still think you're being tricked by his charms. Again, he's too prideful for constant displays of affection, but he does say "I love you" more often than ever. Maybe if he says it enough times, you'll believe it.

He stares a lot. There's just something so endearing about seeing you in your own little world, oblivious to everything else, or at least oblivious to his gawking. It's the most honest part of you, the most yourself you could be, and he enjoys it from afar.

🌿┊GALE

So needy. You leave him at camp for a few hours and you come back to him acting like he needs to be sent to the seaside for his health. A year of living as a hermit does things to a man's necessities for attention.

Loves your scent. He doesn't share his clothes with anyone (that fabric is expensive, dammit), but he insists you wear them so that they smell like you later.

Despite being a cat owner, he's very dog-coded. Will do things with the sole purpose of receiving praise or kisses from you and gets extremely pouty when he doesn't.

Speaking of kisses, he takes any excuse conceivable to kiss you. Good morning, good night and good luck kisses are very much mandatory. Doesn't even have to be on his lips, he's more than satisfied with a cheek or forehead kiss as well.

He enjoys being taken care of, even if he complains. When you scold him for not sleeping over some ancient tome, he can't help but feel loved. Will return the favour, of course — especially if it comes to food. He's very insistent with the "three meals a day" thing.

Will read to you, there's no way around it. It's relaxing for both of you, so he doesn't see why he shouldn't. He also says he can pay attention better to the text when he says it out loud, anyway. You having your head on his lap as he does it is merely a bonus.

🌿┊WYLL

If this man has any flaw, it's that he's always trying to make every moment you spend together perfect and forgets to just lay back and enjoy himself. Even then, he only does it because of how much he loves you.

The last romantic! Goes all out with dates and gifts — fancy restaurants and the biggest bouquets you've ever seen. Money is no object when it comes to you. Truly a good old-fashioned lover boy.

Definitely has a saviour complex — the type to say "I can fix them" unironically. He just loved you and wants you to be okay, and if he has to drag you there himself he will.

Will go on rants about how smitten he is with you and how perfect you are on a daily basis. If you have to leave for the day, he'll write it as a love letter instead.

Always holding you close, but there's no possessiveness to it. It's a display of affection, not ownership. He's yours as much as you are his.

Loves taking showers together. Not for any sexual reason (though he wouldn't complain if things ended up going down that path), he just finds it incredibly intimate and genuinely enjoys washing your hair for you.

You're not just another romance to him — you're the love of his life, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, if the gods allow it.

🌿┊HALSIN

Despite the whole "Desire flourishes wherever it finds purchase" thing, he genuinely doesn't see himself falling for anyone else as he did for you. It's nice to know he could still indulge if he wanted, but for now, he doesn't.

Loves having his hair played with. There's just something so soothing about it. Or maybe it's his wild shape talking, asking for pets. We'll never know.

Always finds an excuse for you to sit on his lap. Again, not for sexual reasons, he just likes wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on your head or shoulder.

Even though he isn't one for commitment, he has a constant, extremely severe case of baby fever. He obviously wouldn't push you if you're not ready, but he does make his sentiments on the matter known.

Stepping dangerously close to smut territory with this one, but he loves how small you are compared to him. The way he engulfs you entirely when he hugs you or how your hand disappears under his as he holds it — it's endearing to him.

I cannot go without mentioning how good his hugs are. Like, seriously. He's so warm and gentle but still strong and it makes you feel safe. It's the best thing in Faerun.

Loves how you look like wearing his clothes. It ties into the size difference thing, since they just look huge on you. Also, much like Gale, he has a thing for your scent, so there's really no downsides.

[mrsmnsn]

The “first date”

summary: After figuring out you liked each other, you and Eddie started dating. Your first interaction wasn’t the way he planned, so he decided to take you out on a proper date.

warnings: MDNI 18+; virgin!reader; fluff; some nerdy references (star wars troop); oral!fem!receiving; shitty writing- sorry about that.

author’s note: Hey guys, i saw how much everyone enjoyed Eddie’s Valentine story so i decided to make a second part. It took me longer then i thought to post this, but my classes at college just started so i’m still adjusting my schedule.

After what happened, you spent the rest of the morning talking in bed. You couldn't believe you actually got the courage to make a move on him. Even if it was to offer a little help with his "issue". And this was one of the many things that surprised you today. The fact that Eddie liked you back was insane. In your mind, Eddie only saw you as a girl friend. A girl he could talk about everything and nothing. Of course sometimes you caught him looking at you in was different way, but you didn't want to get delusional.

And for Eddie, he was meaning to make a move on you since he realized he was head over heels for you. But he honestly thought you would say it was way too weird to be with him this way. In a romantic way. But what is best then dating your best friend. The only thing that changed was the intimacy of things. So that's why he'd never said anything. Till this day.

"How come both of us liked each other but never did anything?" Eddie asked with one arm under his head and the other wrapped around your waist. You were laying on his chest, listening to his heart beating. You don't know how to feel about this yet. Forty minutes ago, you were still "just friends". And now you're all over each other.

"I guess i was just so scared to lose my best friend that I stayed quiet. It was better to have you in that way than not having you at all." You were being honest with yourself and with him, trying to figure it out why have you kept these feelings as a secret.

"Well i'm glad you released your horny devil today" That made you laugh and he joined you. "But to be honest, it's not how i imagined."

"What do you mean?" You got up on your elbows to see his face, a little scared from his confession. Didn't he just said that he liked it?

"I actually imagined that i would have the guts to ask you out and take you in a very nice date. Very romantic. And then, after the normal stuff normal people do, i could actually try to kiss you. But i guess we're not normal." With your eyes locked, he caressed your cheek.

"Yeah, here we start being naughty!" You said in a playful tone with a wicked grin that only made him laugh. You always loved his smile.

"I guess because we took things a little too fast, this is still kind of... unbelievable for me. Do you feel it too?" You asked, concerned you're the only one feeling this.

"Yeah. Kind of. It feels like it's a dream, right?" He asked and you nodded. "But i'm sure this is going to be as normal as last night was. It's just a matter of time. Also, just in case you didn’t realize it yet, you're my girlfriend now lady, you're stuck with me."

"Oh no! What am i gonna do?" You got out of his chest dramatically and he grabbed you again making you laugh

"Really sweetheart, i don't want you to think you'll have to act differently or anything like that. I don't want you to. I like you the way you are. All goofy and funny and sweet ." He said looking at your lips

"Look at you, all over me, aren't ya?" You said as if you weren't feeling the same

"Yeah, you got me."

After that day, you've been dating, and you couldn't be happier. You waited the whole week for saturday, which was the day of your first official date. That's how Eddie called it. Of course, he didn't want to forget what happened in that morning. But he wanted you to feel extra special. Not just some random girl.

So, he decided to take you to the drive in. This events normally happened at summer, but it was just what he wanted. Something simple, but romantic, where you two could spend time together, watching movies and maybe make out in the middle of it. It was a part of your routine together, watching movies. So, in his head, this would make you both very comfortable with the whole situation of the 'first date'.

He parked his van in front of your house right on time. He pressed the doorbell and there you were. With a cute sweater and a skirt. He loved when you wore skirts. It made your legs look so tempting.

"What do you think? Fancy enough for you mister?" You said looking down at your clothes.

"Oh my lady, you look very fancy. Come on, give me a twirl." You did it and, dramatic in his own way, he put his hand on his chest "You look amazing, sweetheart."

"Thank you, Eds" He always loved when you called him like that. Now, it was even more special.

He drove you both to the location. Even though there was a lot of cars in front of you, you had a great view of the screen. It was only ten minutes before the movie started, so he went to buy you some snacks and drinks to survive through the night. It was a marathon of star wars. The three movies. "A New Hope", "The Empire Strikes Back" and "Return of the Jedi".

The sun was starting to set when he came back. His curls in the golden light just made him look more like an angel to you.

"Here you go. I'm pretty sure we can survive with this, but if you want more, just tell me, a'right?" He insisted on buying the food, not letting you pay for anything

"That's perfect, thanks!"

Through the first movie, you didn't say a word, trying to understand everything in the movie. You always found it very confusing. Alright, maybe you were containing yourself to not put your hand on his thigh or your head on his shoulder.

Eddie also stayed in silence, too anxious to do something and fuck up the night. It was not his thing, getting anxious about girls. It was actually something he was confident. But with you, was a whole different story. He wanted to be closer to you. He was trying to find a way to get you to stay closer to him without being desperate. So he started putting one hand in your thigh. Your warm skin contrasted with his cold hand. He didn't missed the way your eyes went wide the second he touched you.

They gave a break of ten minutes to start the second movie. Now it was dark outside.

"Are you sure you don't want anything else? There is a big line there but i can go, if you want." He still had his hand on your tight.

"Yes, there is enough here." You assured him. You could see he was nervous. He’d made the first move… you could only follow his lead. "I'm just wondering here. This is a date, right?"

"Yes..."

"Don't you think this big space between us is useless? You can get closer Eddie." You said leaving his cheeks with the cutest shade of red

"I'm sorry, i didn't wanted to be too desperate" He said putting his arm around your shoulder and, without thinking too much, you placed your head on his shoulder. Eddie was in heaven. He had the girl of his dreams right by his side.

In the middle of the second movie you were still in the same position. You decided to move but, with the sudden shift, you exchanged looks. For the first time of the night, you were inches away from his lips. You couldn't help but want to kiss him so bad. Feeling the same as you, Eddie placed his hand on your cheek and brought you closer until your lips met. His lips were soft. His scent invaded your nose.

Your kiss changed from passionate to desperate very quickly. Your hands got greedy, wanting to touch him everywhere you could. In need to breathe, you separate. Panting in each other's mouth, Eddie hold your face with his both hands.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, i think we can't stay this close. I can't hold myself." He said making you smile.

"I don't think we're going to be able to pay attention on the movie anymore." Giggling, you hold his hands. "What if i said that i don't want you to control yourself?"

He separated a bit more so he could look inside your eyes. His eyes were wide open, shocked.

"I know you wanted to be a gentleman and all, but i've been thinking about this for the whole week. And remember that little horny devil? He's greedy now. More than ever." You said pressing your tights together. You weren't lying. Since he said he was going to take you on a date, you've been expecting for all the things that could happen. And you wanted to.

He was speechless. It was cute.

"I know, maybe i'm being too excited about everything. But i want it and i thought that if i had to wait for you to make a move, we would do it on the seventh date or something" He giggled at that. You were right, he thought. He wanted that too. But he would never force you to do something he knows that you didn't have much experience and you could be a little insecure. He wanted you to feel safe. He finally said something.

"Are you sure? I told you, remember? We don't have to do anything you don't want to. Especially when we're in this kind of ‘first date’ situation where we feel like we have to do stuff." You kissed him again. All you wanted was him.

"I'm sure. You said yourself remember. We’re not like the normal couples."

"Really? You know, we're in a public place ma'am. You little perv." He said making you both laugh

"So... What are your moves, huh? Gonna do it here with my clothes on or you're going to take me to the back?" You pulled his shirt to you and kissed him again.

He took your hand and pulled you to the back of the van. There was some pillows and blankets on the back.

"You were planning to do this?" You asked getting closer to him again

"I was going to take you to stargaze, actually. But you turned me on now. We'll do it later, kay?" And he kissed you.

Your kiss, like before, was hot. Craving for each other's touch. You couldn’t help but smile at the situation. Two horny teenagers in the back of a van making out like your life depends on it. Your hands travel through his chest down to his lower belly, pulling his shirt up.

"I honestly don't believe you when you say to me you're a virgin" You giggle to his reaction but stoped immediately. With his shirt off, his bare torso was in front of you. The black ink contrasting with the pale skin. You could keep looking at him shirtless for hours. But you wanted something else.

He changed your positions and looked in your eyes one more time, asking for your permission. You give it to him not thinking twice. So he takes your sweater and skirt off, leaving you only with your underwear. Thank god i piked matching ones today, you think to yourself. He kept looking to the white cotton set you chose.

“They’re pretty cute” He said earning a slap from you. “Sorry. I meant it, though.”

Smiling at him, you pulled him closer again by his necklace hanging above you only to stop inches from his lips.

“Why don’t you take ‘em off and see how cute i am without any clothes?” You said proud of yourself for being this bold. His reaction was priceless.

His hands were caressing you carefully, every move with love and affection. With you naked in front of him, his instinct was to drown himself in your neck, your chest, belly. Kissing all over your skin, making you squirm. You could feel his body heat hovering over you. Too overwhelmed by his actions, you try to take his pants off. You needed him.

“Easy there. I think we have plenty of time sweetheart.” He said taking your hands in his. He only laughed at the way you pouted. “I want to make you feel good. So why don’t you lay here and relax?” He dropped your hands, not before kissing them, and went down on your body. “It’s the only thing i could do after what you did for me last week. You were so good.” His warm breath hovered your mound and you twitched.

Not wasting any more time, he licked your clit and you gasped. You’ve never got head before. This was a new different thing for you. But oh, how you loved it. You’ve only felt some kind of pleasure there by your own fingers. But the way Eddie’s tongue kept moving and twisting around, it was a new addiction to your list. Your hands were attached to the blanket under you. You were trying so hard to not let any sound slip from your lips.

“Does it feel good?” He changed his tongue for his fingers and smiled to see you struggling to keep quiet. Not able to speak, you only nodded. Deciding to push things a little bit, he thrust his tongue inside you and you couldn’t hold the moan that came from your throat. Eddie lost his mind. He grew his movements faster than before, wanting to hear that again. He was glad that you only let them out now, or he would’ve cum in his pants by then.

Everything was so good. His tongue and fingers on your pussy and his free hand pressing your hip down so you kept quiet in place. His burning gaze on you, his hair tickling your thighs. His hot breath coming out of his nose and hitting your mound. You couldn’t take it anymore. You stopped him and pulled him up. He was confused until you kissed him. You could feel your taste on his tongue and how his chin was wet by your own slick.

“I-I need you inside me” You said gasping for air. Eddie felt his cock twitch in his boxers. Your voice was hoarse by pleasure.

He took off his jeans and boxers, almost falling down. You giggled at his tongue poking out while he searched through his wallet for a condom. “I hope this is not in there for five years. You know, condoms can expire” You joke trying to act casual seeing his dick again.

“Ha ha, very funny missy.” His voice full of sarcasm only made you laugh. He was crawling his way up to you when you both heard it. Dart Vader’s imperial march was playing. Probably the last movie had just started. You cracked, laughing hard at the situation. You even forgot where you were.

“Who are we kidding, of course in our first time having sex, Dart Vader is going to be marching towards us. It’s your fault” He said playfully

“My fault?! Why?” You asked amused

“Because you’re goofy. There’s no other reason.” You looked inside his eyes. Both of you still smiling. You just had to squeeze his arm so he knew he could move. And that’s what he did.

Slowly, his ran his tip against your wet folds and thrusted inside you. You closed your eyes, feeling his length stretching you open. It burned, making tears swell up in your eyes. Once he bottomed out, you both moaned. Giving you a few seconds to get accustomed to this new feeling, he caressed your waist, grounding you back to him.

He started to thrust slowly into you. It felt like your lungs were out of air. With each thrust of his hips, that started to get a rhythm. The muscles of his arms were flexed, his necklace was swinging, and the hands that before were caressing you, were now holding your hips for goddamn life.

“Holy fuck, you’re so tight” His eyes closed for a second, trying to hold his load a little longer. You watched every move of his. He looked amazing. It didn’t take much time for his dick to reach that spot you struggled to find. It drove you crazy. You arched your back and that made Eddie go faster. You were biting your lip but it wasn’t working anymore. If there was anyone around the van, they would probably hear your moans.

Eddie was also a mess. He wanted to freeze this moment in his mind forever. You looked perfect to him. The sounds you were making, his eyes were rolling back. Your boobs were bouncing up and down with each thrust of his. He looked down where your bodies met and saw the bulge in your lower belly, he didn’t know how long he would take.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart” He pressed kisses on your neck. You weren’t able to talk, but you pulled his hair bringing him closer to you, if that was possible. He groaned feeling you clench around him. He could feel how close you were. Once again, he massaged your clit bringing you to the edge. “Come on princess, cum for me. Just let it go” and with that, you were gone.

“Fuck Eddie” Was the only thing you said.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie

You could only think of him. Your nails scratched his back, your feet pressing on his but so he could go even deeper. Your orgasm washed all over you. With you clenching impossibly tighter around him, Eddie was also gone, cumming hard, biting on your shoulder to control his grutal moans.

When your breathing went back to normal with time, he came out of you taking off his condom and laying by your side.

“You think the van bounced too much?” He said breaking the silence. You laughed at his silliness.

“No. Otherwise people would have come here to ruin everything.” You look at him but he was already looking at you. “They might’ve heard us, though.”

“Nah, they’re nerdy people. They’re probably fantasizing about princess Leia now.” As if if wasn’t a nerd too. “You want to get out of here and go stargazing” He said putting a lock of hair behind your ear.

“That was the plan, wasn’t it?” You pecked him on the lips and got up to put your clothes back on.

And that’s how you wrap up the night. He drove you both to a place where you could see the stars. You kept talking and eating the rest of your candy from the movie. Your first date couldn’t be more perfect than that

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 10

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: And we’re back! In today’s episode, we have a very special guest. 😉

Also, just so you guys know, my podcast interview with the Idling in the Impala podcast is now live! For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 6.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, drug use, PTSD, violence, and another big reveal…

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 10: I Need a Hero

Revenge could wait for one more day.

It all can wait, Ben thought. Despite how vehement he was yesterday, today, he was reminded of how good it felt to sleep in a warm bed with a beautiful woman. 

He laid there behind you, on his side. He’d woken up to the sound of music somewhere downstairs, maybe in the dining room.

What time is it? It was hard to remember to keep track of that now, even with the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only midnight, but to his body, it felt like morning.

You were dead asleep. Occasionally you let out soft hums, and other semi-arousing sounds. His lips tugged upward.

Still moans in her sleep.

He drew down the comforter and sheets slowly from your back. He was greeted by smooth skin, except where some marks had been made permanent. His fingers traced carefully over a rough, scarred patch of skin above your hip, as if you had been tased there repeatedly.

His jaw clenched. He could still remember the sounds he used to hear—your screams through the walls of the compound. He remembered when you eventually stopped begging for it all to stop.

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said. “Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat. 

For so long after that day, he hated you. He told himself that he didn’t give a shit about whatever was happening to you, because you clearly didn’t give a shit about him.

But the long months wore on to longer years, alone in the dark. Too often, your words would rattle through his head, reach through his chest with ragged claws. No matter how much he fought it, all he had time to do when he was alone, was think.

He vacillated between stubborn, angry indignation, and rethinking every interaction he had with you, with Countess, the rest of the team, and beyond. Slowly, he allowed himself to retrace his steps. If only in his mind, he began to regret certain things…at least where it came to you.

Ignoring you was both harder and easier, since he couldn’t see you.

That all changed a few days ago.

Eisenstein returned to his cell, but this time he wasn’t alone. Two guards held you bound and gagged. You were just as shocked to see him as he was you.

It felt like he was suspended in time.

He saw the signs of aging in your face, but it didn’t matter. Even now, you were beautiful.

The spell of it broke when they threw you down onto the metal table usually reserved for him. He saw now that they had you in a straitjacket to keep your hands covered. The anger built inside him, almost incandescent in his veins.

“What the fuck is this?”

 The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

A realization soon dawned on Ben, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. He saw your terror, the way you wordlessly pleaded with him, asking for help with your eyes.

Part of him still hated you, but he couldn’t take it. He wouldn’t allow this sick bastard to hurt you again. Not right the fuck in front of him.

You were still his.

His hand traveled down your bare shoulder, over the gentle slope of your side, and down the curve of your hip under the covers. You shifted and hummed, edging toward wakefulness. Ben settled in from behind, protectively embracing his body around yours in a perfect fit. He began kissing along your neck, slowly.

“Hmmm I’m sleeping,” you said, keeping your eyes closed. He smirked. His lips became more insistent, along with his hand spanning your thigh.

“Wake up, then,” he said. He teased the shell of your ear with his tongue, dragged your earlobe between his teeth. You shivered.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you retorted, smiling.

Ben huffed. “Yeah, keep being a fucking brat. That’ll get me to stop.”

His beard rasped against your skin as his lips found a path down the column of your throat. Acquiescing to open your eyes, you sighed, tilting your head back to give him more room. Meanwhile, his cock pressed insistently against your ass.

You smirked and shifted your hips, grinding back against him. “Maybe I like working you up.”

“Oh yeah?” He moved your thigh over his to spread your legs for him. There the warm, blunt tip of his cock pressed at your entrance, nudging you open with shallow thrusts. You moaned in response, reaching back to slip a hand in his hair.

You were a wanton little thing, he thought, even as he reached around to bury his fingers in your pussy. Already finding wetness between your folds, he gathered some of it and rolled your clit smoothly between his fingers. You gasped his name, your hips bearing down against him.

He took the opportunity to sheathe himself all the way inside you, until his hips were snug against your ass. You made a sound of pleasure that had his balls clenching on reflex. Your voice was a curse, even without your powers.

For once, he fucked into you slowly, with long, unhurried strokes that still managed to rock the bed. Ben was surprised the frame and springs hadn’t given up yet.

“You’re fucking mine, you hear me?” he said, close to your ear. He punctuated his words with deeper thrusts. “Say you understand.”

“Yes,” you agreed on a gasp.

“Yes, what?” He laid more tantalizing kisses along your neck and jawline. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you said, in a coarse whisper. Ben claimed your lips in a kiss, before he kept moving inside you in languid strokes.

You were a moaning mess, your eyes squeezed shut. You grabbed at your breasts and kneaded them yourself, rolling and pinching your nipples. He strummed more insistently on your clit, until he felt your inner walls finally start to throb around him.

Your orgasm hit you in a slow, long wave as you pressed your face into your pillow. And you clenched so impossibly tight on his cock, it triggered his release as well. His arm curled around your middle and pressed you tight against him as he uttered a sharp grunt. He finished hot inside you, panting heavily into your neck afterward.

“Well, good morning,” you quipped, despite trying to catch your breath as well.

Ben’s hazy reverie broke into a chuckle. He dropped a lingering kiss onto your shoulder.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “Whatever.”

When he pulled out of you, you shivered a little. He rolled onto his back, and regardless of the mess in the sheets, you turned over to rest your elbow on his pillow, leaning over him.

“I should probably tell you something,” you said.

He eyed you in suspicion. “What now?” 

You smiled and laid a hand on his chest, dragging your nails through the fuzz there.

“My family’s from Brooklyn, not a small town in Indiana,” you confessed. "Made it up to make me seem more...down to earth. Doe-eyed and likeable."

Ben’s brows shot up. He took a moment to process that information, then he shook his head.

“Fucking figures.” His arm lowered to curl around your lower back, caging you against him.

“I grew up in a brownstone that we had to share with two other families,” you said.

“So you were broke.”

“Yep. When I was born, my family spent all their savings to contract with Vought, to give me Compound V,” you explained. “Their plan was something like, if I became a famous superhero one day, I’d bring us out of our shitty life.”

Ben sighed, shaking his head. “So they pimped you out to Vought.”

“Essentially,” you said. You paused. He could see it was difficult for you, but you talked more about your life—the expectations from your parents, the training, the grueling schedules and the robbing of your childhood. 

“When my mom died, I…I realized just how much they took from me,” you said, gazing up at him. “Isn’t that horrible?”

Again, Ben shook his head. His hand had been caressing up and down your back, but it stopped now. Part of him was still reluctant, but he told you about the biggest lie of his life. That he hadn’t grown up poor or struggling. That his father practically owned half of Pennsylvania, and Ben had been a spoiled rich kid. He’d also gotten kicked out of boarding school after starting a fight.

“My father said I wasn’t worthy of his name,” he said, with a wry turn of his lips. “So I went out, talked to some of his golf buddies in the War department, and got myself into the Vought program. I became Soldier Boy.”

You listened with rapt attention. Not interrupting him, just giving him the time he needed to find his words.

“When I came home after the war, my mother was just as proud as she’d ever been,” he recounted. But he didn’t smile. “My father took a good look at me, maybe for the first time in my life. And you know what he said?”

You gave him a questioning look, silently prodding.

“He said I took a short cut. ‘A real man wouldn’t have cheated,’” he said.

When he eventually met your gaze, you at least didn’t look pitying. Just understanding.

“I guess we both have daddy issues, huh?” you said.

Ben shook his head. Then he eyed you. “You don’t look that surprised by all this.”

You smiled, a little sheepish. You stroked your thumb across his chin.

“I can sense when a man is lying to me, remember?” you said pointedly. “I clocked you a long time ago, pal. Mostly any time you told some fake war story... You didn't fight in the war, did you?”

He frowned in offence, even though you both knew he couldn’t deny it.

"I was there," he said.

You gave him a knowing look. "Ben."

"I fucking would've, all right, but by the time I got there it was pretty much..." He waved a dismissive hand. His brows were crunched along with his worsening frown. You felt his embarrassment, and as a result, his agitation. You were glad to finally get the truth in his own words, but you didn't want to work him up in that way either.

You tried softening him with a kiss to his cheek. You rubbed a soothing hand over his arm.

“So what do you want to do when we get our lives back?” you asked, purposefully changing the subject. “After the whole payback thing.”

Ben sat up with you against the headboard. His upset slowly faded away with your ministrations, your gentle touch, and his expression fell into contemplation.

“I always thought I had time, but uh…I thought I’d eventually settle down. Have a couple of rugrats of my own. Raise a family,” he said. “Thought I could do it better than my old man.”

You tilted your head at him with a certain measure of surprise. Out of everything he might’ve said, that one didn’t occur to you. Although, with his upbringing, you supposed it made sense. You smiled.

“You might have a few of those out there somewhere,” you said.

He chuckled. “I've always thought so.”

He looked at you in a way he hadn’t before, a bit gentler, with something else you couldn’t name. Your face warmed as something fluttered in your lower belly.

“So tell me then. What do you want?” he asked.

Once you worked through that bit of nerves, you thought about his question. It took you longer than you thought it would to come up with an answer, but when you did, it was the most honest thing you could think of.

“I want to be happy.”

He paused, not expecting that answer. Then he nodded, with a short hum.

You sighed. “Okay, if you really want to go after Vought, I think I have an idea of where we should start.”

I can’t believe it. This thing still fits me pretty well, you thought. You twisted in the mirror to examine yourself in your old black and violet supe suit, though you didn't bother with the mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was already with your generous host, sat with widespread legs on the couch while he smoked a large blunt. His smoke coiled out lazily.

“You gotta believe me, I didn’t know what they were planning,” said Arthur Cohen. AKA: The Legend. He had been forced into a chair, though Ben hadn’t bothered tying him up. The man knew better than to make a false move. He was a decade older, and lucky for him, even wiser.

His penthouse apartment in New York looked more or less the same. Hit records and old successful movie posters adorned the walls, like a true has-been.

“Yeah, you said that fifty fucking times already,” Ben snarked. “What you haven’t said, is why.”

“To be honest, I never asked,” Arthur said. His expression soured. “Stillwell and Stan Edgar shivved me out of that decision, those uppity fucks. Then they got me fired on some technicality.”

“Allegations of embezzlement, or so I heard,” you said, reentering the room.

Arthur raised a finger. “Not true. That money was well earned backpay.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know I know you’re lying, right?” You approached the men and crossed your arms. “What’s the lay of the land now?”

“Well, Stillwell’s the new me. Stan’s the new CEO. They disbanded Payback after you disappeared. The others are either working new gigs or are in early retirement. But I heard Vought’s working up to creating a new team.”

You nodded and shared a glance with Ben. He looked a little too chilled out right now. Apparently, Arthur had the good stuff.

“Before we jump into the frying pan with this, I want to go see my family,” you said. “Would you…want to go with me?”

Ben blew out more smoke, gesturing at Arthur. “I’ll keep this one company until he finds our old team. Make sure he doesn’t fuck off to Rio.”

You felt the sting of disappointment, but you sighed and agreed.

“Just…wait for me to get back before you go anywhere,” you said. You saw Ben prickle a little at being “told” what to do. You lowered down to his lips.

“Please?” you said, plying him with a kiss, and a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I’ll be back soon.”

He tightened his hand on yours. His gaze drew over you, briefly with more clarity through his high.

“Fine,” he said. “Be careful.”

You nodded with a smile, giving him one more kiss goodbye.

Your father was the longer drive north than your brother’s house in Queens, so you headed up to find the former first after borrowing a car from Arthur. According to him, your father had moved upstate to Albany after your “death.” 

Now, you understood why.

He lived in a two-story house on a whole acre of land, complete with three cars, a pool, and oh yeah, his new girlfriend. She looked good hanging off his arm in Atlantic City, as you saw from a picture on the wall—after you broke into the house, that is. To be fair, they’d left the sliding glass door open in the backyard.

Your dad was dressed like he just got home from the golf course, walking over from the kitchen to the living room. He dropped his glass of wine in shock when he saw you standing there, admiring the only framed picture of you, your mother, and Chris on one of the display shelves. Glass shattered across the hardwood floor.

“Hey, Dad,” you said. You turned to him, not bothering to hide your disdain.

He gaped for a few seconds as he tried and failed to make his mouth work. He pointed at you with a shaking hand, your name finally falling from his lips.

“It’s a beautiful place,” you said. You gestured widely at your surroundings. “It’s nice to see that you finally got what you wanted.”

He tried to go to you, to embrace you, but you held out a hand. Your lips trembled as you fought the onslaught of your emotions. If he touched you, you might not have been able to control your actions.

“Did you give any of the settlement money to Chris and his family? Or did my death just make you rich,” you asked.

Your father’s eyes closed. He released a heavy sigh before he was able to meet your gaze again.

“He wouldn’t take any of it,” he admitted.

Your tears stung in your eyes as you smiled a little. “Sounds like him.”

“Where have you been?” he asked. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Again, he tried to get closer to you, and again, you held him off.

“The only thing I need from you is to keep doing what you’re doing,” you said. “Keep living your life like you no longer have a daughter.”

With that, you stalked out of the house and shot out the door, back to your car, no matter how much he called out after you. You got into the driver’s seat and beat the wheel once, twice, venting your frustrations. But you forced yourself to take in deep breaths to calm yourself. You wiped the tears from your eyes.

He wasn’t worth it.

You wondered if you should go see Chris though. Would it be safe for him and his family? Was Vought watching them as a contingency, if you ever escaped?

You weren’t sure. You rucked through your purse lying in the passenger seat for the weird “cell” phone Arthur had lent you. You wanted to check in with Ben first, before you went anywhere else.

You started to dial, but a gloved hand shot out and injected a needle into your neck. You startled at the sharpness and the feeling of a chemicals rushing through your body. Your eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

All you saw was a blurry, black mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking plastered.

He had been ever since you left yesterday morning. In his unrest, he’d moved on to a handful of whatever opiates Arthur kept in his medicine cabinet.

Christ I’m fucking bored.

He glanced down at the phone in his lap. The one Arthur gave him, along with a list of numbers that had been taped to the fridge. The first number on the list was the cell phone you were carrying. Ben read the rest of them.

Pizza place. Chinese. Swedish massage—hmm, there’s an idea. Handy man. BEST escort service…

Ben rose a brow. An inebriated smile curved his lips.

“What makes it the best escort service?” he asked, and loudly. Enough that Arthur came over from where he’d been making calls in his office, trying to find the rest of his former teammates’ whereabouts.

Arthur raised a brow at him. “You sure that’s a good idea right now?”

Ben shot him a terse warning look. The other man raised his hands.

“Eh, I’m three times divorced. What do I know?” he said, but he sighed and gave Ben a long look. “It just seems to me that you and Sirena got a good thing goin’, that’s all.”

The thought of you managed to cut through the haze of drugs clouding Ben’s mind. He frowned.

“That’s how Missus #1 caught me, with one of my ex-assistants in the jacuzzi,” Arthur said, with a mild grimace on his face. “She got that house in the divorce. Well, that and the kids.”

Ben looked over at him blankly.

Heaving a sigh, Arthur went back to his office.

Ben glanced down at the list of numbers in his hand, and the cell phone in the other. What the fuck was taking you so long then?

He dialed the first number on the list—your number. It rang several times, but you never answered. He called you again, waited a few minutes, then called you a third time. You weren’t answering.

His frown worsened, along with a suspicious prickling up his spine. Fuck...

He'd felt it the moment he let go of your hand, but he'd been too out of his mind to actually listen to his instincts; the same ones that warned him not to let you out of his sight. And more importantly, not to let you go.

He got up from the couch and stormed into Arthur’s office, shoving the door open. Arthur jumped in his seat. 

“What? What’s the matter?”

“She’s not picking up the fucking phone,” Ben said. He paused. “Something’s wrong.”

Arthur didn’t ask him the predictable question: how do you know? He just took in the look on the supe’s face and knew it wouldn’t be wise arguing. He tried calling your father's home, but all the man would say was, "She left. She's gone."

Arthur hung up with the man, and for a long moment, he sat pensively while Ben angrily paced the small office, like a tiger confined in its enclosure.

“It’s possible that Vought knows you guys made it back,” Arthur said. At the dark look on Ben’s face, the other man rubbed his chin with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll try to track her down for ya. In the meantime, I’ve got Countess’s address. Maybe she'll even have an idea of where to look for Sirena.”

He slid a piece of paper toward Ben across his desk. He grabbed it, pointing a threatening finger at Arthur.

“Find her.”

You woke with a groan. You knew a drugging when you felt one, and this was it. Someone had given you a powerful sedative.

You were alone in a white padded cell, lying on a cot. It was all too familiar.

Except for the tall figure in black standing in the middle of the room, watching you. You gasped with a jolt, pressing your back against the wall after you sat up. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Irving?”

Black Noir stepped closer until he was sitting beside you on the cot. Tentatively, he raised a hand up to touch your cheek with gentle, gloved fingers.

Your shock gave way to anger. You slapped his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” you said sharply.

Noir backed off at once, as if you’d struck him a real blow. He got up, went over and grabbed a dry erase board that had been lying against the far wall, along with a marker off the floor. He wrote something down on it, then he showed you.

You shouldn’t have come back to NY.

You frowned, both at what he “said,” and in confusion. Why wouldn’t he just talk to you?

“What did you expect?” you asked incredulously. “For me and Ben just to disappear forever? To let you keep ruining our lives?”

Noir paused at that. He tilted his head with a long look at you. With your abilities, you were able to sense that he was disheartened, and even angry. He erased the board with his arm and wrote something else.

Do you love him?

You blinked at the question.

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew.

Soldier Boy

Emotion rose high in your throat, but you worked past it with a swallow, and a deep breath.

“That’s none of your business,” you said.

Noir just stared at you, his head tilting forward. The longer he stood there, watching you, waiting for an answer, the longer you prickled with unease.

He erased the board and wrote the same question again. He held it out for you to see, shaking it once in emphasis.

Do you love him?

You hesitated, but you didn’t want to lie anymore, even to yourself.

“Yes, I do,” you said. “I know what he’s done, believe me, but he isn’t a monster.”

Noir’s head twitched. You felt his anger intensify. He dropped the board onto the floor, startling you, but all he did next was slowly raise his hands to take off his helmet. He showed you what was left of his mottled, disfigured face—the burnt skin and the divot in his skull that had never fully healed.

Your mouth parted in shock as tears sprung in your eyes. You tried to avert them, but Noir stepped forward and grabbed your jaw, turning your face up to his and forcing you to look. Your lips trembled, but you met his gaze unflinchingly.

When he seemed to be satisfied, he released you and stepped back. He placed his helmet back on.

“I understand why you hate him,” you said at last. “But you made your choice when you let them take me too. You…you changed everything for me.”

You were satisfied to feel a lance of Noir’s guilt. You had scars too, and most of them weren’t physical.

“I’m not going to apologize for my choices now,” you said, with a firm glare. “So unless you’re going to kill me, you can fuck off, before I scramble what’s left of your head.”

Your eyes glowed with your power. You opened your mouth to begin your siren’s song, but Noir turned on his heel and exited the door, leaving you alone in the cell.

A fucking chimp sanctuary. Really? Ben thought as he broke into the boundary of the reserve. About a quarter mile into the tall grass, he found a large, if rundown country style house in the middle of the woods.

“Yes, Big Daddy. I’m almost ready for you. Just let me heat these up…”

Ben raised a brow, but he gritted his teeth and kicked through the front door. There she was, Crimson Countess in all her glory, holding a set of anal beads.

She gasped at the sight of him, but she ignored the “client” on speaker on her landline phone, and dropped the beads so she could aim a fiery blast at the intruder.

Ben jumped out of the way and tossed his shield. It hit her square in the chest and sent her flying back into the wall, destroying a bookshelf and the dining table. He walked over to it with slow, heavy steps.

She raised her head with a groan, but then, her eyes watered with disbelief…and fear, when she looked up at him.

“Ben?” she said. “My God…it’s really you, isn’t it? You... you look the same.”

“You don't,” he remarked. He lowered down to grab her by the collar of her suit and raise her out of the rubble.

“How much did the Russians pay you, Donna?” he asked calmly.

She struggled to escape, her nails scraping at his gloved hand. He tightened his hold.

“They didn’t,” she admitted. Tears leaked from her eyes under her mask.

“They didn’t pay you anything?” he said through clenched teeth. “Then why?”

You know why, came sneaking voice in his mind. He tried to pay it no heed, but Donna sneered at him.

“Because,” she spat. “I fucking hated you. We all did.”

Ben’s lips pulled at a humorless smirk. His chest prickled with heat. “I should’ve known you were a bunch of sniveling, backstabbing, fucking cowards.”

“Kill me then,” she taunted. “Is that gonna make you feel better? Going to make you feel less empty inside?”

Ben’s chest began to get that nuclear glow, but he managed to fight it down, back into embers.

“Not yet,” he said. He drew her in closer. She held onto his wrist, her feet scrambling over the debris on the floor.

“I need to find someone,” he said. “And you’re going to help me.”

Ben and Donna sat across from each other on her living room couch, with the landline sat between them. The phone was on speaker as it rang. The longer it took, the more annoyed he became.

“This better work,” he said. She gave him a flat look.

Finally, a woman answered the phone.

“Good afternoon. Stan Edgar’s office. How may I assist you?”

“Hi Gloria, it’s me, Donna,” she said. “I need to speak with Stan as soon as possible, please.”

“Ooh, I’m afraid he’s in a meeting.”

“Trust me, he’s going to want to take this call.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid his next availability isn’t until next week. And next month if you want an in-person meeting.”

“Just tell him to call me back asap!” She said, hanging up the phone in a huff. Ben gave her an unimpressed look.

“That was your big fucking plan?” he said.

She huffed. “You think breaking into Vought is going to be easy? Let alone finding that weasel. He’s got the best security money can buy, and by the way, finding where they’re keeping your little girlfriend isn’t going to be any easier. They could’ve stashed her literally anywhere by now.”

You think I don’t fucking know that? Ben got up from the couch with an angry breath. He turned away from her and rubbed at his beard in contemplation. He shouldn’t have let you go anywhere alone.

I should’ve been there. The thought gripped him, deep in his gut. Guilt was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling.

“We’re going to need help,” Donna said.

His bad mood took a turn for the worst. He glanced back at her.  

“What, the rest of the fucking Scooby gang?” he snarked.

“Or you can try going in alone, guns blazing,” she shrugged. Her sharpened gaze met his. “How fast do you think they’ll kill her, just to spite you?”

Ben’s jaw clenched. Donna leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

“Or worse. They’ll put you back in a box and ship you back to the Russians,” she said. Her snide smile had him clenching his teeth. “Either way, you’ll never see her again.”

With everything in his being, Ben wanted to fry this bitch to Kingdom Come.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving.”

Donna’s expression fell. “What?"

"You heard me!" he barked, grabbing her arm to pull Donna to her feet. "Get the fuck up."

She struggled against his grip. "Where’re we going?”

“To find those fucking Twins.”

They took her car, a tiny sedan. Evidently, the end of Payback hadn’t been good for Donna’s career. Arthur had told him that, irony of ironies, she now sang at a Soldier Boy tribute act at Voughtland to pay her bills. And as he’d seen earlier, she needed to pad her income in other ways.

She was driving them up to Vermont. It was going to take days, and Ben was already sick of her.

It was a small blessing when they stopped at a gas station in the nighttime. She gave him her credit card to buy some snacks for the road while she filled up the tank. (He took the keys with him as insurance that she wouldn't bolt with the car.)

He returned with a far bigger bag than she expected. She forgot what a human garbage disposal he could be. He tossed the card back at her.

“Your card’s maxed out, by the way,” he said.

She glared at him, but she endeavored to let it go with a sigh, raising a hand to her temple. How the fuck had this become her life?

To minimize being overheard, she stepped closer to him while the gas pump kept going on her car.

“Gunpowder is the easiest one to find next. Mindstorm’s probably hiding in a hole in the middle of the woods some-goddamn-where,” she said, keeping her voice down. She gave her unwanted companion a sly look. “Though I’m thinking you want Mindstorm to stay wherever he retired.”

It brought up an unsavory memory.

After the team turned on him, Mindstorm had been the one to lock his gaze on Ben. For a moment, his feet had been rooted to the ground while Mindstorm tried to shove him deep into his mind. It had given someone the opening to slip a mask of Novichok over his face. He suspected it had been Countess.

Now, Ben turned to her with a glare at her audacity.

“You know, for a massive cunt, you’ve got some brass balls,” he said dangerously. “How the fuck didn’t I see what a vindictive little snake you were from the beginning?”

Donna scoffed in derision.

“I’m vindictive? Says the cheating, lying, bastard,” she snapped.

“Oh, shut your hole. You knew what I was doing, and you didn’t give a shit,” he said with a glare. He leveled a finger at her. “You used me to get exactly what you fucking wanted. Fame, money, and all the perks that come with it.”

Her lips pursed, like she didn’t want to admit it. But if they were airing out dirty laundry, then she wasn’t pulling any more punches.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one. Was I?” she said. “Anyone who ever smiled at you, fawned over you, or sucked your dick was trying to get something from you. Or, they were scared of you. Because you’re a bully. A fucking monster. And sooner or later, Sirena won’t be able to stomach you anymore.”

The thin leash on his temper finally snapped. He reacted, reaching out to grab her by the throat. He was truly thinking about breaking her neck.

Donna choked for air and gripped his wrist. “Without me, you’ll have no one. Good…fucking…luck finding her.”

Ben was furious, but he battled it down, expelling a breath of frustration.

He released her. She coughed and gasped and stumbled a few feet away from him, glaring at him all the while through her fear.

When she was eventually able to stand again, she and Ben shared a look of mutual loathing, but also, of understanding.

It was an uneasy truce. For now.

You were quickly unraveling alone in the dark.

You felt the phantom cold of your old cell. No matter how you rubbed your arms through the leather of your supe suit, you couldn’t get warm. You released a shaky breath and swiped at your tears.

You missed Ben. He had to know by now that you were in trouble, but you didn’t know if he’d know how to find you. Or worse, if they found him first.

You steeled yourself and tried to calm your panic. You counted to thirty. Your eyes flit to every small detail of your cell that you could name: the small crack in the gray linoleum tile, the line of ants slowly creeping along the corner, the brittle wool blanket you were sitting on, laid over your cot.

When your breathing was steady, you tried to think. You didn’t know where you were, of course, but you could try to sense how big the building was.

You did something you rarely did. You cast your awareness outward as far as you could reach.

There were very few male energies, and you only picked up on a few scattered thoughts.

Until you found one. It felt…strong, but young. A kid?

Jesus Christ, what’re they doing in this place? you thought.

What…who’s there?

You heard the voice in your mind, small and afraid and lonely. Before you could answer him, the door of your cell opened to a few familiar faces.

There was an older man in a lab coat that you recognized, but you couldn’t place his name until you read his monogram. Vogelbaum. Followed by Stan Edgar and Black Noir, who came to stand behind you. You knew that if you made any wrong moves, Noir would kill you this time.

Quickly you read their energies as you observed them.

Vogelbaum gave off mild interest in you, but it felt clinical. Stan felt resigned and calculating as he took you in.

“For what it’s worth, I do wish it hadn’t come to this, Sirena,” Stan said. “We didn’t intend for you to get caught up our deal with Russia.”

He may have been telling the truth, but that didn’t mean you cared.

“You’re in the most secure lab we have,” he said, gesturing to your wall-to-wall cell without windows. “No one knows you’re here, and no one will find you.”

You smiled dryly. “So what do you want from me?”

“I want to know how you and Soldier Boy escaped the facility in Russia,” he said, gathering his hands behind his back.

What he really meant was, How did you escape? So we can make the next cell even more effective.

You leaned forward and spat at his shoes.

Black Noir grabbed you by the back of your neck and yanked you back. Your jaw clenched in anger, but you didn’t struggle. Even if you opened your mouth to sing, Noir would snap your neck before your powers had time to affect him.

Stan remained unaffected by your outburst, though he glanced down at his shoes.

“These are handmade Italian leather,” he remarked.

“Even if you find Ben, you’ll never be able to kill him,” you said tersely.

“We don’t need to kill him. Nor will we need to find him,” Stan said. “He’s already looking for you.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart swelled with both hope and dread, though you tried to hide it.

“We have a plan to neutralize him. Several, in fact,” he added, and spread his hands wide. “Until then…welcome home.”

Smug bastard. You glared back at him.

He left, along with Vogelbaum. Black Noir glanced back at you once, then he was gone.

The lights in your cell turned off, leaving you in darkness. You heaved a breath and couldn’t help the tears that found hot paths down your cheeks. You curled your knees up on the cot and held them to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if you could pretend the room wasn’t pitch black. You focused your breathing, in and out, until your heartbeat began to slow down from its panic.

The kid, you remembered.

You licked your dry lips and tried casting your awareness out again. When you found the familiar energy from before, you reached out to him.

Hey, are you there? you prodded.

Who the hell are you?

It’s okay. Don’t be scared, you said, and you gave him your name. Are you locked up here?

Y-Yeah.

I’m sorry to hear that. I am too.

How can you be talking to me…in my head?

Well, it’s complicated, you admitted. It’s a new power I’m trying out, thanks to my time as a human test subject.

Something told you this kid knew the feeling.

What’s your name? you asked.

Um…John. I’m John.

  AN: 🤭 Oh, yeah, we're going there.

How did you like getting Ben's perspective on things? And his "forced" team up with Countess to find the rest of the cast of Payback. 😬 What could possibly go wrong?

Next Time: 

Ben hated to admit it (so he wouldn’t), but she had a point. It took him a minute to wrangle in his ire, taking deep breaths to try and calm the power inside him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

This time, it actually did.

His hand fell back to his side, letting the younger man breathe freely.

“Let’s go.” Ben turned on his heel and headed out.

“Where, uh…where’re we going?” Charlie asked, rubbing his sore neck.

“Looks like we’re getting the team back together,” Ben said grimly.

He tilted his head.

“Well. What’s left of it.”

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 11

Join Patreon 🌟 || Series Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Soldier Boy Tag List:

If you would like to follow along as I post each chapter, please follow my side blog @zepskieswrites with notifications on so you don’t miss out. 💚

@spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @adoringanakin @rizlowwritessortof @chernayawidow

@midnightmadwoman @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @lacilou @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@waynes-multiverse @my-stories-vault @syrma-sensei @alwaystiredandconfused @globetrotter28

@mrsjenniferwinchester @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @k-slla @deanbrainrotwritings

@jackles010378 @deans-daydream @deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @just-levyy

@leigh70 @kmc1989 @ghostslillady @siampie @jessjad

@beautyvaliant @mimaria420 @kaleldobrev @pieandmonsters @twinkleinadiamondsky

@stoneyggirl2 @sl33pylilbunny @spnfamily-j2 @mostlymarvelgirl @artemys-ackles

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

One day I will finally write the fic I've been planning in my head for like a year now, in which Ed is a former hitman (ala John Wick) and one night, after a case goes wrong, he stumbles badly injured onto Stede's doorstep because he saw the pride flag in the window and hinged his bets that Stede would be safe when he was scared to even go to a hospital. Of course, Stede tends his wounds, they click immediately, and by the time Ed's healed they're basically married. Ed's all scared because what if he's not cut out for a soft, quiet life, and even if he is, wouldn't that be putting Stede in danger???

And that's where the fun part is. Because people from Ed's past will show up, from good to very, very bad. But 99% of the time it won't even be Ed's problem. Because Stede will take care of it.

So most of the fic is Ed kicking his feet and twirling in pretty skirts and learning how to have the life he's always wanted, he's doing things like feeling soooo happy because he got a semi-legal name change (he took Stede's last name) and he's free now. He's learning how to make sourdough and reflecting on how his hands are truly meant for putting good into the world, and it's a crime that he was never allowed to see that until now. And meanwhile Stede's plotline for that chapter is rigging their house up Home Alone-style without Ed noticing because that morning there was a vague, ominous letter nailed to the front door from someone called The Skull Smasher. And Stede just didn't think that guy sounded very friendly.

[theragethatisdesire]

show off - eren jaeger x afab!reader x jean kirschstein, 18+!!

something wild and wicked came over me while considering the dynamics of the erejean threesome, and i realized we all deserve to see the incident that started it all. this is the official part 2/prequel to three's a... and it is very very fun and tasty. i feel like i haven't been posting as much, so i am super excited to get this up. i hope you guys enjoy as much as i did writing it :) it's also from eren's pov which you guys know i adore

pairing: jean kirschstein x reader, eren jaeger x reader, a lil bit of eren x jean tension but nothing physical

wc: 6.2k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: swearing, smut, threesome, implied internalized homophobia??? (literally just like, a pinch. eren has a "no homo" moment at the end lol), oral sex (male receiving), pet names (slut, brat, bitch, baby, princess), eren's a bit of a hard dom in this one, degradation, humiliation, penetrative vaginal sex, thick tension between eren and jean, eren's a menace

enjoy :)

-

Eren should be mad.

Eren should absolutely be mad, waking earlier than normal and padding into his kitchen, finding this scene waiting for him. You, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a stringy thong and leaning over the counter enough to make that fact exceedingly obvious, and Jean, his roommate and friend since high school, shirtless and smirking, flirting over coffee. When he announces his presence, the shame and surprise on both of your faces is evident enough to confirm his suspicions; there’s definitely something building between the two of you, and whether it be a harmless crush or more, it’s there. Eren should be mad.

He’s just…not.

Despite his constant struggles to bite back his temper, especially when it comes to you, Eren surprises himself by the pointed lack of red in his vision. The heat’s still there, though; something coils in his chest that reminds him of anger, has the same flavor and the same spark, but none of the pulsing rhythm is there. Only something slow and catching, simmering in the pit of his stomach.

You come over again that night, winding up snuggled into his bare chest and intensely concentrating on the newest episode of Game of Thrones that Eren’s been dying to watch, but can’t bring himself to pay attention to. The image of this morning, you and Jean leaning into each other and smiling conspiratorially over whatever conversation had been struck up, is burned into his brain. And he’s still not mad.

“Do you want to fuck Jean?” Eren doesn’t parse his words; he’s no good with them anyway, and he’s a straight-to-the-point person as it stands.

“What?” You shoot up off his chest, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed accusingly at him. “What gave you that idea?”

Eren’s not buying it, though; there’s a little flush rising to your cheeks, and it betrays you. Not only do you flirt with Jean when Eren’s not watching, but you do want to fuck him. And Eren’s just not mad.

“You two were flirting in the kitchen this morning– I saw you,” Eren snorts when you try to interrupt him in protest, “and it’s not like we both haven’t known about Jean’s little crush on you for the last couple months.”

“We’re friendly,” you shrug, looking down into your lap guiltily, “we’re trying to be friends.”

“Well you’re both doing a damn good job of it,” Eren rolls his eyes.

“I’m sorry if I made you mad, I wasn’t trying to be flirty with him, I just–”

“Want to fuck him,” Eren finishes for you, carefully watching your reaction. You scowl at him, irritated, but your heart’s not in it, he can tell.

“Why are you so stuck on this idea of me wanting to sleep with Jean? I’m sorry if I went a little too far in the kitchen earlier, but that doesn’t mean I want to fuck him.”

“You keep bringing up this threesome idea,” Eren strikes right where he knows your mind’s already headed, “is it because of Jean? Is he the guy you want us to fuck?”

“You said you’d never do that,” you bite into your lip, suddenly so embarrassed. Eren’s overcome with a sudden urge to comfort you, to smooth the crease between your eyebrows and tell you that it’s okay. It confuses him, and he knows he can’t do that without betraying whatever…odd feelings are brewing in his stomach at the idea of you and Jean together, of you Jean and Eren together.

“Is it Jean?”

“It’s not Jean,”  you huff, crossing your arms like a petulant child.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not–”

“I mean, if it was going to happen, I’d rather it be Jean than some fucking rando.”

Eren’s caught you off guard, and he can tell. Your mouth hangs open a little, trying to mouth the words that you want to say, but nothing comes out. The flush on your face grows deeper, and Eren wants to kiss you. He’s always loved this about you, that you’re so filthy deep down, but you get so shy about telling him what you really want.

“W-why is that?”

“At least he’s our friend,” Eren shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant despite the bulge that’s already starting to grow in his pants at the thought, “he wouldn’t cross any lines or pull out any crazy shit on us.”

“I guess so.” You’ve returned to fiddling with the hem of your shirt, avoiding his eyes. Eren reaches out, tilts your chin up to look at him.

“C’mon, be honest with me. Is it Jean?”

“Maybe a little.” Your words may be reluctant, but your eyes have taken on that glossy, distant look that Eren knows so well. It is Jean.

Eren pauses to wonder what you’ve fantasized about in the dark, what you’ve been holding back from him. Maybe one in your mouth, one thrusting into you from behind? Riding one and taking the other down your throat? The pictures that flash through his brain have a groan threatening to slip from his lips, the raw hotness of it cutting straight through the weirdness that he’s sitting here, staring at his girlfriend, and thinking about Jean with a tent in his boxers.

“Would you do it? If you were put in the right position?”

“I…yes. I would.” Your words come out in breathless gasps; oh, you have it bad, for both of them, Eren realizes. You catch yourself before he can drag you down too far though, reining yourself in with an airy chuckle. “But I doubt Jean would even go for it. He doesn’t seem all too freaky.”

“You never know,” Eren concedes, letting the matter lie for now and pulling you back into his chest, “but you would do it, right? If he was into it.”

“If you both were, then yeah, absolutely.” Eren can feel you subtly rubbing your thighs together, and he smirks above your head where you can’t see him.

“Maybe one day we can ask him.”

A lighthearted laugh shakes your frame. “Yeah, maybe one day.”

From then on out, Eren can’t escape the plaguing thoughts of you and Jean and himself, tangled up together in a mess of sweaty limbs. Images of you gagging on Jean while Eren has a hand on the back of your head, shoving you further along his length, keep him distracted while he’s at work. Making himself cum into his hand in the shower thinking of watching Jean, face between your legs and two knuckles deep in you, Eren telling him how to make you cum, how to make you scream.

It’s become a private obsession for him, one he can’t run away from. Eren has you over at the house every night nowadays, insisting he’s been going through a lot at work and he misses your company. You, being the sweet little thing that you are, have no idea that he’s watching, baiting Jean into coming clean.

Eren has happened to “lose” all of his sweatpants but one pair, forcing you to walk around their apartment in those short little sleep shorts you favor, or ideally, just your panties and a t-shirt. He observes Jean as you pitter patter around their kitchen, keeping track of just how many times Jean’s eyes flit to where the shirt rides up as you reach for something high in the cabinets. He’s not just watching Jean, he’s watching you too; the way your breath hitches in your throat when Jean slicks his hair back, when he stretches, arms over his head, and lets a little slip of skin show.

And when he can find the presence of mind to focus, late at night with your mouth on him or his face buried between your thighs, Eren listens closely, and he’s rewarded. There’s the telltale creak of feet on the carpet, of someone lurking just outside of Eren’s barely-cracked, “accidentally” left-open bedroom door. If he listens close enough, sometimes he swears he can hear little grunts and groans coming from across the hall.

You two want each other badly enough that it’s practically weighing the air down, and Eren’s not mad, he’s frustrated. You’re both so shy, so clearly uncomfortable with the attraction between each other, how is he ever going to manage to get you both to just say it?

It turns out that Eren’s not just an observant hothead, he’s a lucky observant hothead.

It’s been three weeks since you let Eren in on your little crush, three weeks of mind-numbing observation and little bits of bait thrown out, but neither you nor Jean have risen to any of it. It’s not until you’re finishing up dinner with Eren in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a tank top and the tiniest shorts he’s ever seen, that Jean comes home, sweaty and out-of-breath from the gym, and Eren sees his opportunity.

“Hey,” Jean breathes out in greeting, whipping his sticky shirt over his head and tossing it to the ground.

“Hi, Jean,” you smile amicably at him through the doorway. Eren watches as Jean’s expression lightens, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a wide smile.

“You save me something?”

“Always.” You shake a full Tupperware container at him meaningfully before sliding it into the fridge.

“You’re too good to me,” he whistles, hands running through his hair, “I’ll get to it after I shower.”

“How was the gym?” Eren makes his presence known, looking up from his phone where he’s seated at the dining table they’ve put just outside the kitchen. Jean meets Eren’s gaze with an all-too-obvious blush rising to his cheeks; Jean always gets that little embarrassed look when Eren catches him flirting with you.

“Fine,” Jean shrugs noncommittally.

“Any cute girls?” Eren asks, returning his gaze to his phone. He can viscerally feel the startled look you give him, the stuttering of Jean’s fluid movements next to you across the room, getting a cup from the cabinet.

“What?”

Eren lifts his gaze to find exactly what he expected: Jean, subconsciously having drawn just a little too close to you for comfort, glaring over at him; you, eyes wide and questioning, the slightest hint of a frown creasing your forehead. Eren lets an easy smile grace his mouth, shrugs.

“Were there any hot girls at the gym?” 

“No,” Jean answers carefully, slowly pulling his arm down, cup in hand. Eren doesn’t miss the way the two of you glance at each other, the unsaid what the fuck? passing between you two in the air.

“I figured as much,” Eren shrugs again, scrolls on his phone, “not like you’d notice, considering how much drooling you do over my girlfriend.”

The words hit the floor like a shattering glass, spreading a heavy, thick silence over the room. Eren doesn’t dare look up from his screen, doesn’t want to disturb the aura of casual conversation that he’s worked to establish. He can’t jump in to reassure Jean that he doesn’t mind the other man’s flirtation and ogling glances, not too quickly. Eren has to spin this just right, back the both of you into the corner you so desperately want to be in.

“Eren,” you finally hiss, scowling at him. Eren knows you must be confused, but you’ll understand in a moment if he can play his cards right. “What the hell?”

Jean, for his part, is stock-still and bright red, looking between you and Eren like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know,” Eren rolls his eyes and stands from the table, leans against it with his hands in his pockets, twitching with anticipation, “we’ve talked about his little crush on you.”

“I– I don’t,” Jean tries to stutter out a rebuttal, but Eren cuts his words short with a cool, calculated grin.

“Yeah, you do,” Eren saunters over to the kitchen to place firm hands on your shoulders, turning you to face Jean, “but if you haven’t noticed that she has a little crush on you too, then you’re blind.”

“Eren!” Eren can hear the panic in your voice, can feel your shoulders tense up with embarrassment, but he’s hardly paying attention. His eyes never leave Jean, watching as the muscles of his chest and shoulders flex with the tension humming through his body.

“What are you playing at, Jaeger?” Jean narrows his eyes, finally picking up on Eren’s little game. Eren bites back a grin; if only Jean understood what game they were actually playing here.

“Nothing,” Eren says innocently, knowing full-well that the dark glint in his eyes is telling a different story, “it’s not like I blame you, I mean, look at her.”

Eren rubs relaxing circles into the skin of your shoulders, urging you to loosen up under his touch. You’re still strung tight, practically vibrating with confusion and shame under him, but Eren can feel the way your skin’s starting to run hot. Most of that tautness in your muscles is nothing but pure, unadulterated want, Eren’s felt it enough times now to know the difference.

“Eren…” the pinch of anger has faded from your voice now, and Eren can hear the cautionary, are we doing this now? tone hiding behind the words. In response, Eren digs his thumb into a particularly tough spot between your shoulder and your neck, wrenches an unwilling gasp from you.

“She really likes you, Jean,” Eren’s leaning over your shoulder, ignoring your warning completely, practically nose-to-nose with Jean now, “wants to fuck you, wants us to fuck you.”

Jean’s face stutters while his mouth remains silent, but just before he hardens his mouth into a flat line, schools his face back into that perpetually suspicious scowl of his, Eren catches it. Jean’s trying to keep himself closed off, but Eren’s faster, and he can see the flicker of arousal that floats over Jean’s face.

“You’re fucking with me,” Jean counters, but there’s a questioning lilt to his words. Eren grins, shakes his head. Jean looks down at you, trembling and frozen in Eren’s grip. “He’s fucking with me, right?”

“Tell him,” Eren coos, leaning down to whisper hot against your ear the way he knows will get a fire started in your belly, “tell him the truth, it’s okay.”

“He’s not,” you choke out, strangled and nervous, “it’s…it’s not a game.”

Jean blinks once at you, twice at Eren. Eren grabs you by the chin, gently guides your mouth to his. All of his suspicions are confirmed when he kisses you; you open up for him a little too easily, let him suck your tongue into his mouth with no resistance at all. And when he releases you, looks back up at Jean with a question in his eyes only to find that Jean’s gaze has darkened, mouth just ever-so-slightly ajar, Eren smirks. He’s got both of you right where he wants you.

“What do you think, Kirschstein?” Eren brings his hands up to hold your breasts, twisting your nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. “Isn’t she cute?”

“I, I mean–”

“She’s so pretty,” Eren nips at your ear, pulls a little whimper from you, but he sees how your eyes never leave Jean’s, “and she listens so well, such an obedient little thing.”

“Eren,” you pant, the last bits of your anxiety showing in the tremble of your voice. Eren shushes you disapprovingly, sneaks a hand down between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make your knees weak.

“Gets bratty when she’s nervous,” Eren explains, flitting his eyes up towards Jean, who looks like he hasn’t taken a breath in several minutes, “don’t you want to show Jean how good you can be, hm?”

“Mhm,” you hum. It’s quiet, but it makes Jean’s eyes widen, makes him suck in a sharp fuck between his teeth.

“Why don’t you kiss her, hm?” Eren shoves you into Jean’s arms, startling both of you.

“Jaeger, I don’t–”

“I’m serious,” Eren backs away a few feet to prove his point, smiling earnestly, “kiss her.”

Jean scowls, looks between you, Eren, back to you. Eren takes note of how Jean’s hands haven’t left their grip on your waist where he caught your stumble from Eren’s push, how your arms are tucked into Jean’s tacky, strong chest.

“Is he serious?” Jean murmurs down at you.

“Only if you want it.” Eren hates the self-conscious waver in your voice, wishes he could have told you everything he’s seen over the last few weeks, all the evidence he’s collected that yes, Jean very much does want it. But then again, if he had, he wouldn’t be treated with the sight before him now: you and Jean, nervous in each other’s arms, practically vibrating with the idea of exploring each other for the first time.

“I,” –Jean licks his lips– “I want it. Want you.”

“Me too,” your voice is hardly louder than a breath, Eren recognizes the sound in a heartbeat. You’re already strung out, fingernails digging ever-so-slightly into the skin of Jean’s chest.

“Can I?” Jean’s so sickeningly sweet with you, Eren almost wants to roll his eyes. He likes to be sweet with you sometimes, but if Jean only knew how much you could take, the dirty, mean things that you beg Eren for…it occurs to Eren that maybe he can show Jean sometime, and his boxers start to tent underneath his sweats.

“Yes,” you tilt your chin up to Jean pleadingly, and Jean’s resolve finally breaks.

Eren’s delighted to see that Jean’s chasteness doesn’t hold out long; after only a few minutes have passed, your hands are flying all over each other, breathless little moans passing between your mouths. Jean’s hand trails down to cup your ass, and Eren looks on intently as the flesh gives under Jean’s grip through hooded eyes. Eren’s hand has subconsciously traveled down to the front of his sweats, palming roughly at the erection that’s showing through the thick fabric. 

Jean starts to wander away from your mouth, eyes shut as he peppers gentle kisses along your jawline, feather-light nips down your neck. As if he’d forgotten about your clothes, Jean’s eyes widen when he feels the strap of your tank top under his mouth, and his eyes flit to Eren in question. Eren nods at him, tries to offer an encouraging smile that comes off more like a wicked smirk.

Jean slowly– ever so slowly– slips the strap over your shoulder, kissing at the newly-bare skin. Eren already knows you’re sensitive there; Jean quickly learns from the quivering gasp that reaches his ears.

“Is this okay?” Jean mumbles against your skin; Eren has to choke down a gag at his sugary tone.

“Take it off,” Eren answers for you, cheeks burning at how coarse he already sounds, throat swollen and thick with arousal. Jean scowls at Eren over your shoulder, turns softer eyes back to you.

“Please,” you echo Eren’s sentiment, raising your arms to emphasize your answer. Eren doesn’t miss the slight shake of Jean’s fingers as he reaches for the hem of your tank top, rids you of it slowly. Once you’re bare, Jean’s eyes darken, almost glossing over.

“Fuck,” Jean breathes out, ghosting a thumb over one of your peaked nipples. Eren’s chest swells with pride at how completely wrecked you’ve gotten Jean already; he’s practically drooling down at your half-bare form.

“Told you she was pretty.” Eren grins, gripping his erection harder through his pants. You were right about this, you were so right. There’s not enough blood flow above Eren’s waistline for him to focus on how bizarre it is that he’s getting off to another man, his friend even, pawing at his girlfriend; all he can process is the tangible heat of the room, memorizing each little spot on your body Jean’s hands return to in admiration, learning which parts of you Jean likes and which actions of Jean’s make your knees shake.

You peek over your shoulder at Eren, as if you’ve just remembered he’s in the room, and his knees nearly give out. Your lips are swollen and wet from Jean’s slow, strong kisses, from pulling your lip between your teeth in shame, and your eyes are glistening with unshed tears of pure want. Eren’s never seen you so beautiful.

“Do you want to…” you trail off, offering Eren a beckoning hand, but he declines, grinning at you.

“Have your fun,” Eren says, words a sharp blade against Jean’s steadfast comfort, “you begged for it enough.”

Your mouth stutters open in embarrassment, a half-formed protest on your lips, but Jean’s deft fingers grab your chin, gently directing you back to him. He gives Eren a chastising frown, clear disapproval of Eren’s snark. Eren thinks that he likes the contrast they give you as a team; Eren the firm hand of discipline, and Jean the soothing balm to ease your cries.

“Is he telling the truth?” Jean questions you softly, free hand cupping your breast ever-so-tenderly. Eren watches your back arch, watches the way you lean desperately into Jean’s touch. “Did you beg for this?”

“Yes,” you say, voice breaking under the weight of your arousal.

“Okay,” Jean nods, as if he needs any more reassurance, Eren thinks with a roll of his eyes.

“Her mouth,” Eren calls out, unable to rein in the telltale rasp of desperation in his voice, “she’s good with her mouth.”

Jean’s eyebrows furrow in thought; Eren can see the choices flying across his face, to have you spread on the counter before him, feel the warmth of your walls around his fingers, or the soft give of your throat around his cock.

“I like doing that,” you whisper, so low Eren almost doesn’t hear you. Jean’s eyes shoot open in surprise, until a slow, understanding smile spreads over his face. Eren almost wheezes with relief.

“You like using your mouth?” Jean thumbs lovingly at your lip, smiles wider at your enthusiastic nod. Without being told (Eren decides to reward you later for being so good for your guest, showing off how well he’s trained you) you climb down onto your knees, sitting back and waiting patiently.

Jean looks back to Eren, the last thin string of hesitation taut between them and aching to be cut. Eren snaps it with an affirmative nod of his head, shoves his pants and boxers down to finally free his dick and bring it against the familiar skin of his palm.

Jean’s eyes flick to Eren’s length, pausing just a little too long. Eren doesn’t have the wherewithal to think too much into that now, only to appreciate the rush of heat it sends through his veins. In answer, Jean pushes his shorts down his legs, sending the compression boxers he’d worn for the gym sliding to the floor with them, cock bobbing free and dangling in front of your face.

“Pretty,” you murmur, wrapping your hand around the base and pressing a light kiss to the tip affectionately. Jean’s head falls back, and he groans; a throaty, appreciative sound.

Eren was growing frustrated initially with Jean’s softness towards you, but it hadn’t occurred to him that you might behave differently towards Jean than you do towards him. When you take Eren in your mouth, you’re all enthusiasm, dipping as far as you can go the moment he taps your tongue, retching on him, drool hanging in long strings from your tongue and wetting your chest.

With Jean, however, you place curious little kisses up the bottom of him, deliver kitten licks to the tip before swirling your tongue in long, slow circles around where he’s flushed and dripping for you. Jean swears repeatedly under his breath, brings a tentative hand to the back of your head to run his fingers through your hair. Eren’s own hand slows where he’s jerking off, his gaze honing in to look on in wonder as a woman he thought he knew so well reveals a new side of herself to both of the men watching her.

“That’s– shit,” Jean groans, head lolling off his shoulders and eyebrows knitted in pleasure.

Eren feels a poignant rush of pride at watching Jean become unraveled from your mouth, watching how good you make him feel. It’s a relief for Eren as much as it is for Jean, he thinks, to watch some of that iron-clad composure drop, see the way Jean’s jaw drops slack, his shoulders slouch. 

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Eren hardly recognizes his own voice, gravelly as he speaks into the sticky air. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, both of their gazes half-lidded and desperate.

“So good,” Jean answers, only breaking eye contact when a satisfied little hum rings out from you, sending vibrations ricocheting through Jean’s body and making him roll his head back again, a little moan echoing out into the room.

“Doing so good for him, baby,” Eren strides closer, bold and half-mad, wanting to see the way your cheeks hollow around Jean, the way that drool is starting to collect in a glossy sheen on your chin. “You like it? Like having him down your throat?”

You nod, mouth still full and eyes shining up at them, glazed over and content. Eren softly cups the back of your head for a whisper of a moment, loving that he has this relationship with you, loving that he can watch such a sacred sight and know that you love him all the same, loving what a filthy little thing he’s turned you into.

“Fuck,” Jean exhales, eyes widening as Eren’s tenderness morphs into something urgent, shoving you further along Jean’s length, “don’t– don’t choke her–”

“That’s what she wants, isn’t it?” Eren’s affectionate gaze turns hard and expectant, hand forcing your head to move faster, harder, further. “You love having your mouth full, don’t you? Nasty little slut.”

“Mhm,” you whine around Jean’s cock, pulling a throaty groan out from him.

“You’re being– shit, too rough with her,” Jean tries and fails to shoot Eren a glare, eyes flitting back down to you when your throat constricts around him with a gag.

“She loves it,” Eren corrects him coolly, mouth quirking up at the corner when you retch, “loves being whored out. You want his cum down your throat? Show him how bad you want it.”

You slip your tongue out, letting it rub down the thick vein on the underside of Jean’s cock, opening your throat that much more for him. Jean nearly whimpers, bringing his hand to the other side of your head, holding you softer, more gently than Eren, but clearly beginning to lose himself.

“So good for me, princess,” Jean murmurs down at you, chest beginning to heave with the growing intensity of your movements. You blink up, hearts in your hooded eyes, humming around Jean affectionately. Eren chuckles darkly.

“Is that what you are? Jean’s little princess?” Eren shoves you down particularly hard, grinning cruelly as your body constricts with a vicious gag, Jean groaning loudly next to him.

“F-fuck, I’m–”

“Getting close?” Eren murmurs in Jean’s direction, never taking his eyes off of where you’re on your knees, crying and gagging and working so hard for Jean’s cum, “I bet. She’s fucking good.”

Your eyes flick between the two men towering over you, trying desperately to keep your throat open to receive the little thrusts of Jean’s hips, hands folded in your lap obediently as you squirm, rubbing your thighs together in a fruitless attempt to gain some much-needed friction. Eren notices the steady, needy rocking of your hips, smirks triumphantly.

“Look at her, like a bitch in heat,” Eren sneers, “squirming and shit, trying to get herself off with your cock down her throat. Give her what she wants, Kirschstein, come on.”

Your gaze lands on Jean, watery eyes blinking pleadingly. Eren can hear the little hitches in Jean’s breath growing more frequent, more urgent, and he isn’t sure where he wants to look more: down at you, so needy and pleading on the floor, throat stuffed and wet between the legs, or Jean, strung out and panting down at you, hips canting into your mouth harshly.

And then Jean’s cumming, and Eren realizes where he wants to look, has to squeeze the base of his cock hard. Jean throws his head back, eyes screwed shut, hand fisting into your hair and fingertips rubbing against the back of Eren’s hand, a deep, raspy groan clawing its way out of his chest. His hips push forward of their own accord; Eren can hear you coughing as Jean cums down your throat, a lot by the sound of it, but Eren can’t be bothered to look away from the other man, fucked out and untethered all from your mouth. Eren’s damn close to busting from just watching Jean cum, knowing the feeling all too well and never having anticipated how erotic it would be to watch another man be brought to his knees by you on yours.

“Holy shit,” Jean breathes, barely a whisper of a statement, chuckling airily down at you when you release him with a little pop.

“Was that…good?” You venture, smiling shyly. Eren nearly scoffs; you’re so good at playing the part of the innocent little thing, when he knows better. You’re a menace, a vixen.

“That was incredible,” Jean says, and Eren can hear the bare honesty in his statement.

“Up.” Eren interrupts your little moment with Jean to tug you to your feet. It prompts an expression of bewilderment to appear on your face, as if you’d forgotten that he needs to get off too, and so do you. Eren turns to Jean, appraises him. “I’m going to fuck her, you’re more than welcome to stay.”

“Wait, Eren–”

“Wait?” Eren chides, ripping those tiny shorts from your body like the inconvenience they are, leaving you bare and wanting. “Don’t you want to get fucked? I mean, look at you. You’re soaked.”

There’s a little glisten at the apex of your thighs, the evidence of you rubbing your legs together in a desperate attempt for stimulation shining in the low lights of the kitchen. Eren pulls you over to the chair that had started it all, where he’d been sitting when this beautiful opportunity had stumbled across him. He sits, tugging you into his lap with a smack to your ass, settling you over his cock and letting you grind yourself against it, slick him up.

“Tell me,” Eren pinches your chin, forces your eyes to his, “don’t you want me to fuck you?”

“Please, please,” you gasp, working your hips over him like a woman starved, like your last chance at salvation is getting Eren as deep inside of you as he’ll go. Eren smiles, pleased with your answer, and lifts your hips, letting you sink down on him with an endless, pitchy moan. He glances over your shoulder to see Jean, sitting across the table from you both, tugging absentmindedly on his half-hard cock and watching intently. The sight of it fuels the fire in Eren’s veins, convinces him to convince you to keep showing off, show Jean how hot you two can be when you get into it.

“Give it to me then,” Eren slaps your ass again, nips at your jaw, “show me how bad you need to be fucked, baby.”

“E-Eren,” you whine, rolling your hips down on him the way he knows you love, the way that makes a little bulge appear right at the base of your tummy, the evidence of just how deep he is.

“There you go,” he coos, grabbing your hips and working you faster, forcing you towards your orgasm as fast as he can because he knows good and well he’s not going to last, “all better, yeah? Little slut likes having her cunt stuffed full?”

“Yeah I do,” you say dreamily, eyes rolling back as Eren starts to thrust up into you in tune with the canting of your hips. He can see Jean over your shoulder, fully hard again and pulling at his cock, looking mesmerized. Eren catches Jean’s eye, smirks like a cat that’s got the cream.

“He’s watching you,” Eren murmurs to you, purposefully loud enough for Jean to hear, “watching you get fucked dumb. Gonna show Jean how pretty you are when you cum?”

“I-I–” A well-placed thrust from Eren makes you cut yourself off with a sob, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Erin grins, something feral and predatory, snapping his hips up into you harder.

“Gonna cum so fast I bet,” Eren grunts, “so needy for it, my spoiled fuckin' brat. Can’t ever be satisfied, can you?”

“Uh-uh,” you whimper, thighs already beginning to shake around his hips. Eren’s eyes are glued behind you, on Jean’s strung-out gaze, on the desperate motion of his hand around his cock. Eren wonders if just the sight of you fucking him is enough to make Jean cum again; the thought spurs him on, has him jackhammering up into you like his life depends on it.

“Quit holding out on me, then,” Eren growls, “can feel you clenching down on me, know you want to.”

“I w-want to.” A fresh wave of tears has escaped your mindless eyes, dripping down the side of your face, off your jaw, onto your chest.

“Fucking do it then,” Eren snaps, growing closer to the end of his line with every punch of his hips up into you, “show Jean what a little slut you are, how hard you cum for me. Go on, show him.”

“E-Eren, I– oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna–”

“There you go,” Eren snarls like he’s tired of waiting on you, feeling your body break and bloom all at once in his hands, “there you go, good girl.”

Eren watches Jean look on as your body thrashes, rolls with the waves of your orgasm quaking through you, the way his jaw drops a little when you wail and leave dark half-moon indentations into Eren’s shoulders. Jean’s hand is moving impossibly fast in time with Eren’s hips, and when Eren feels himself getting close, only moments away from his release, he meets eyes with Jean. Something overtakes him, something dark and unfamiliar, and Eren flits his eyes down to Jean’s cock, back up to Jean’s gaze, and nods. Jean cums with a loud groan and a shudder, triggering Eren’s orgasm. Eren clutches you to his chest desperately, pinning you down onto his cock and filling you with his cum as deep as he can manage, groaning in your ear amidst the sound of your whimpers and whines.

A beat passes, heavy and pregnant with tension. Eren and Jean are still locked eye to eye, watching each other to see who will make the first move. Jean, coated in his own release, glances down to see Eren’s cum dripping out of you, seems to come back to himself with a shudder.

“I…I’m going to shower,” he says, clunky and awkward, standing and pulling his shorts back over his softening cock, mindless of the white ropes decorating his abdomen.

“Jean?” You murmur into Eren’s skin, sitting up slightly and wincing at the feel of Eren’s half-hard cock still digging into the most sensitive parts of you.

“Yeah?” Jean stops in his tracks, looking over at you and Eren with all the tension of a wild animal that’s been caught.

“That was fun,” you smile dreamily, slumping back into Eren’s chest and blinking up at him, “don’t you think, babe?”

“Lots of fun, baby,” Eren strokes your hair, urging you to stay curled into him, knows you need to for a few minutes after he’s fucked you half-dumb, “what do you think, Kirschstein?”

“It was…” Jean gulps, looks around the room with a pink stain to his cheeks, “it was fun, yeah.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed us,” you giggle deliriously, “we’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“Is that so?” Jean eyes Eren, narrows his eyes suspiciously. Eren almost rolls his eyes, out of patience for this Jean, all cautious and nervous like he hadn’t just cum down your throat.

“I think so,” Eren says in confirmation, trailing a hand up your back soothingly, “anything for my girl, right?”

“Right,” Jean frowns, almost as if Eren had said something in another language.

“See you soon, Jeanie,” you wave him off to the shower sleepily, biting a smile back behind your swollen lips. Jean makes a swift exit, still blushing madly. “Do you think he liked it?”

“I think he loved it,” Eren chuckles down at you, still cording his fingers through any parts of your hair that aren’t a tangled mess.

“And you?”

“I’d do it again,” Eren answers you with a noncommittal shrug. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“Seemed like you really enjoyed yourself. Am I the only one with a crush on Jean?”

“I’m not gay,” Eren scoffs, rolling his eyes. You simply keep your disbelieving glare on him for an extra beat or two; Eren squirms uncomfortably under your knowing gaze, not necessarily wanting to confront this while he’s still balls-deep in you. To his relief, you ease up, gingerly stepping off of him and offering him a hand.

“Mmm, okay. We’ll talk after a shower?”

“Fine,” Eren grumbles, letting you pull him towards his half of the apartment and hoping you don’t notice the quick glance he shoots over his shoulder, catching a flash of Jean’s bare skin as he steps into his bathroom.

[thepaperpanda]

Warnings: smut, aged-up Bakugo (21+ yo), fem!Reader, daddy kink, overstimulation, hair pulling, spanking, choking, face slapping, dirty talk, degradation

Synopsis: Bakugo returns home, seething with anger. To his surprise, he notices that his rage seem to ignite a spark of desire within you

Author: @doumadono

A/N: Welcome to the second day of Kinktober '23 Collaboration! I'm absolutely ecstatic to share this delightfully naughty piece of fiction with you, and I hope you find it thoroughly enjoyable! Today's prompt: overstimulation

💥Masterlist💥

From the early morning hours, you were glued to the TV screen as a massive battle unfolded in the city center involving a villain group. Each time the camera focused on Bakugo in the background, your boyfriend appeared not only frustrated and angry but seething with rage. It was evident that the cooperative action wasn't going as planned, and it was taking much more time than initially estimated.

The front door's lock emitted a beep as he pushed it open, his crimson eyes ablaze with dark fury. The door slammed shut behind him, the lock audibly clicking into place.

"Katsuki, I saw everything because…" The words faltered on your lips as he strode across the living room, his hand abruptly making contact with your cheek. A sharp sting spread across your skin, and a rush of desire coursed through you. His large hand effortlessly wrapped around your throat.

"What did you just call me?" His voice was nothing but a gravelly, almost a menacing growl, intensifying your shock and arousal. "You know better, fucking slut."

Oh, he was so exasperated.

“Sorry, daddy,” you squeaked out. Your soft whimper of desire elicited a wicked grin on Bakugo's face, and he pressed his lips firmly against yours. As your mouths met, a low, sensual moan escaped your lips, merging with his hungry kiss. His skilled tongue danced with yours, igniting a fiery passion between you. "I'll be good, I promise, daddy," you panted between gasps as he bit the soft flesh of your neck after breaking the passionate kiss. "I'll help you ease the anger, kay?"

"I know you fucking will," Bakugo growled, letting go of you as he swiftly took off his own shirt. "You're always a good little whore when daddy's angry," Bakugo taunted, a sly smirk crossing his face. "Now, strip for me."

You hurriedly shed your last pieces of clothing, slipping out of a snug pair of shorts and a tank top.

Bakugo's gaze bore into you, desire igniting his crimson irises, sending shivers of anticipation down your trembling fingers. As you stood there, completely exposed to him, his strong fingers returned to your head, gently guiding you over the edge of the couch. You pressed your face into the sheets, a faint blush of embarrassment warming your cheeks as the cool room air brushed against the dampness between your thighs that already managed to form.

"Well, well," Bakugo mused.

You detected a sly grin in his tone as his fingers lightly traced over the curve of your ass.

"Look at you, so aroused and eager. Does my anger really turn you on that much, dumbass? How pathetic. Aren't you a little, pathetic whore for daddy, hmm?"

All you could manage was a quivering gasp as he slid a broad finger along your drenched folds, teasing your sensitive clit. In an instant, his finger vanished, replaced by a sharp, stinging slap against your asscheek, eliciting a cry from your parted lips.

"Use your fucking words, you knucklehead. I asked you a fucking question."

"Yes, daddy," you moaned weakly as his hand struck your ass once more, the pleasurable sting sending shivers directly through your core. "You make me so wet, daddy…"

Bakugo chuckled, giving your ass a soothing caress before delivering another firm smack. "Tsch, you fucking whore. Did you think about my hard dick while watching me on TV, hmm? Are you such a dirty slut?" One of his hands slipped between your thighs and his calloused index finger rubbed fast circles over your clitoris.

"Yes, daddy!" Your voice quivered, ending with a small gasp as you heard the unmistakable sound of his belt buckle being undone while he was brushing his fingers against your vulnerable spot, making your thighs shiver.

“Oh fuck, princess," Bakugo emitted a low, primal growl as you sensed the mushroom tip of his rock-hard dick pressing against your slick entrance. “Just what daddy needs, fuck. You're so hot and wet, dumbass.” He slid inside you with ease, filling you immediately with his impressive, veiny length, each thrust threatening to split you in half. "You're nothing but a cumdump for daddy."

You were reduced to incoherent pleas beneath his rough assault; each buck of his hips driving him to penetrate you deeply, filling you immediately with his impressive, veiny length, each thrust threatening to split you in half. "Dear God, daddy! Oh! Ah!"

He wrapped your hair around his fist, jerking your head upwards as he thrust faster. "God, you're so fucking tight," Bakugo gasped, his words strained through clenched teeth. "Fuck. I can't believe your petite, little cunt can fit me so fucking well."

Your body clenched around his thick dick involuntarily as his words sent shivers down your spine. Fingers gripped the couch cushion desperately, seeking stability amidst the intensity of his rough pace. “Daddy…" You moaned weakly, the tightness in your core growing. Your slick walls quivered around him, eliciting a bestial groan as his hand moved from your scalp to your neck and pulled you flush against him. "Fuck, please!" Your voice was a keening mewl as you scratched weakly at his strong arms, your orgasm on the brink, your thighs shaking uncontrollably.

He chuckled lowly in your ear as his other hand snaked around you, two large fingers pressing firmly and massaging your swollen clit. "Yes," he moaned, "Come for daddy like a good little whore. Soak daddy's cock, princess. Show me what you've got."

As though waiting for Bakugo's permission, you surrendered with a shuddering cry. "Daddy!!!"

He continued to work you through the sensation, slamming his thick dick into you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as his fingers played your clit expertly like an instrument.

You panted and moaned loudly for him, already feeling yourself approach your second orgasm quickly as he squeezed your throat softly.

“That’s daddy’s good little slut,” he growled in your ear, nibbling your earlobe as his thrusts increased furiously as you came again, soaking his hand, your pussy clenching around his cock convulsively. "My little, horny bitch in heat."

Once the high began to ebb, you whined softly, wiggling your hip, trying to free your clit from the overwhelming feeling of his calloused fingers pressed there.

“Tsch, slut," the smirk in Bakugo's voice was evident as he continued pounding inside you. “Daddy’s not at all done with you yet.”

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 8 part 9

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

knowing how ridiculous rio is, I fear she's going to make 'mourning agatha' her whole personality from now on

billy looking all chill like, so this is who agatha was boinking cool cool cool cool cool

and rio, honey. *deep sigh* you made a whole fucking deal about billy being an abomination. you can't just let him live now because you pinky promised your wife. especially bcs you're not even going to collect her. you're just going to be extremely emo about this whole thing, aren't you? MY BELOVED IS GONE SO I AM A SKULL NOW, I HAVE NO HUMANITY LEFT. babe. mourning is the most human thing you could do right now, who are we kidding.

(did they cgi the skull this time? it looks great tbh, that's what cgi should be used for, to enhance little things when it's needed, not to take over the whole process.)

this joke has been made a million times, but:

the Wanda Walk of Shame™

and yes while it is funny that he just gets in his subaru and leaves, what was he supposed to do?? just leave his car in westview? what if his mom and dad need it? how was he supposed to know he'd learn how to fly during the night?

how are we doing, bud? you've had a weird fucking day, haven't you

my parents were so worried!!! jeff and rebecca kaplan please adopt me

I love to snoop around billy's room. lorna wu and the wizard of oz, but also tarots, moon phases, astrology, esotericism and pride stickers galore. and jennifer's body!

now it's time for billy to do the math meme. the wicked witch is even wearing a brooch, it's not that hard to figure out

poltergeist II, haxan, buffy, rocky horror. does anyone know what's the poster on the right behind the lava lamp is, with the woman and the red devil?

AND. LAST BUT NOT LEAST. THE TRANS LIVES MATTERS FLAG.

carrie, the craft, saw. sindie and the spectres, never heard of that one. the incantations. evanescence, tove lo.

good morning, sleeping beauty!

agatha harkness: asshole, menace, toddler. now in ghost form!

eight episodes down, one to go. I'm not ready.

go to episode 9 part 1

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Second Chances

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This is part 2 of Second Choices! Part 3 will be a shamelessly smutty epilogue so click here to be added to the taglist to be notified when that's live!

Warnings: Drinking, little bit of angst/alludes to a history of abuse

Rhysand returned from Windhaven just in time for dinner, rested and refreshed after a long weekend holed up in his mother’s cottage with the male he’d been casually seeing for the past few months. In addition to being pretty, Austris had a wicked tongue that kept Rhys thoroughly distracted. 

It was three days of pure bliss; of forgetting about his duties and giving into every whim and desire that struck him without thought. While he dreaded returning to work and his responsibilities, the thought of spending the evening catching up with his family put a little bounce in his step as he landed outside the House of Wind. 

The outdoor dining table was set, silver trays piled high with juicy, slow-cooked meats, a rainbow of roasted vegetables, and potatoes whose garlic-and-rosemary glaze wafted in the early evening breeze. Fae lights floated above, illuminating the feast in a soft glow. Behind it all, he saw his family sprawled out on the lounge chairs. Judging by the scattered bottles littering the ground around them, he had lots of catching up to do.  

He took one step and then Mor jumped up, waving her wine glass towards him. 

“Rhys is back!” She exclaimed, nearly tripping over her own feet as she rushed towards him. “Time to eat!” Her voice was suspiciously loud, though he supposed that happened when one drank too much on an empty stomach. 

He chuckled and accepted the one-armed hug she offered. 

“Good to see you too, cousin,” he said, guiding her towards the table. “You must be really hungry.” 

Amren stalked past, face pinched in a scowl. 

“You have no idea,” she grumbled as she plopped down in a chair. She reached for an unopened bottle of red wine and uncorked it with her teeth, filling her goblet to the brim. 

Rhys’ eyebrows skyrocketed towards his hairline, turning to throw a questioning look at Az and Cas as they made their way to the table. The Shadowsinger’s face was impenetrable, as usual, but in three centuries of friendship Rhys had never seen Cassian look so pitiful. His wings drooped dangerously close to brushing against the ground, and his hair was a loose, tangled mess that hung over his face. Beneath it, shadows lined bloodshot eyes that were cast downward, lacking their usual spark of mischief.  

Azriel shook his head as he passed; the movement was barely more than a twitch but Rhys got the meaning loud and clear. He took his seat and poured himself a hefty glass of wine; he had a feeling he was going to need it. 

Everyone settled at the table, refilling drinks and piling food onto their plates, yet there was a gaping hole between Mor and Cas where you should have been. 

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked, not thinking much of your absence although he was disappointed that he wouldn’t get to catch up with you before it was back to business as usual the next morning. 

Suddenly, everyone stilled with their forks and goblets held aloft. It was too quiet. Panic jolted his heart into a sprint as he took in the frozen faces of his Inner Circle looking like children caught sneaking sweets before supper. 

Finally, Amren spoke, glaring at Cas as she spat, “Ask Cassian.” 

The Lord of Bloodshed glared at her and pushed away from the table, chair clattering to the ground behind him. 

“I’m eating in my room,” he snarled, stabbing the fattest, rarest steak with his fork and plopping it on top of the vegetables piled on his plate. 

“Cauldron boil me, I leave you alone for three days,” Rhys muttered, downing his wine in one long gulp. 

—

Earlier that day, Amren had stopped by your room and offered to skip dinner with you, but you were looking forward to a quiet evening in the library. Alone. After storming out on Cassian, your two best (female) friends had spent the night in your room with you, drinking straight from the bottle of Illyrian moonshine you’d pilfered from Rhys’ secret stash until you passed out in a tangled mess of limbs and hair somewhere between midnight and dawn. 

They’d only agreed to leave when you threatened to show Rhys the memory of them breaking into his room using only a hairpin the night before. And even then, every two hours or so you’d get a knock and a quiet “Just checking in!” from one or the other. You suspected they drew up a schedule, and though you were grateful to have such caring friends, what you really needed was peace and quiet. 

It was hard to wrap your head around just how much things had changed within a span of twenty-four hours. But curled up amongst the stacks of old books in a plush armchair tucked away in a little alcove, you finally managed to admit to yourself that you could have handled things better. After all, you were the one that made this mess for yourself—you should have known better than to shit-talk Cassian’s girlfriend—and instead of apologizing, you’d fucked things up even further. 

With a sigh, you cracked open the stiff leather cover of your journal and flipped to a blank page, letting your pencil hover above it. Not one to pay too much attention to emotions and feelings, the little book hadn’t gotten much use in the nearly two centuries since Rhysand had gifted it to you. 

But when your brain was twisted into too many knots that not even a night of drinking with your friends could untangle, the only thing that seemed to help was spilling your guts onto paper. Seeing your thoughts laid out in graphite helped you make sense of them, so you pressed down the tip of your pencil and forced your hand to move. 

Cassian is my mate. He’s my mate and I fucked everything up and he probably wants nothing to do with me. 

I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push down these stupid feelings. I thought it was just the bond trying to force me into something more with someone who was supposed to be my best friend. Just a friend. 

But if I’m being completely honest, I think I’ve always been a little bit in love with him. After all, you don’t sleep with someone on and off for half a century if there isn’t at least some baseline of attraction. 

I don’t know, I guess I just always assumed that since my father didn’t want me and my mother only wanted me for the child support check, well, no one would ever want me. Not forever; not as a wife and definitely not as a mate. 

I’m too damaged for anyone. 

Too damaged for Cassian. 

Having him as a friend forever was more important than trying for more. It was too big of a risk, and I couldn’t lose him. Couldn’t lose my family, not when I finally got one that stuck around. 

I could sleep with him, though. It was transactional; a mutual itch-scratching made purposefully hazy by Mirthroot and alcohol. In those stolen moments, I could pretend I was someone else. Someone worth keeping. 

Mor thinks I’m insane for keeping the bond to myself for so long, but we were fucking regularly enough to take the edge off and, well. I learned to grit my teeth and take it on the chin before I got my first cycle. 

I’m good at pushing things down, at pretending to be okay. Even if he does want me, I don’t know if I can handle it. That deep, emotional intimacy without anywhere to hide. 

Your hand flew across the page as words poured out of the deepest, darkest parts of you. The things you kept hidden from everyone, including yourself. Tears swelled in the corners of your eyes which stung from the effort it took to keep them from falling. 

And then you felt a gentle knock against your mental shields. Rhys must be back. You peel them back just enough to let his voice in. 

Y/N? Can I come down and say hi to my favorite sister? 

I’m your only sister, motherfucker. I better be your favorite. 

He waited, a soft breath of a presence within your mind, swirling winds of calm smoothing out the edges of the turbulent waves crashing around in there. 

Even though, normally, you’d rather die than let anyone see you like this, you agreed. 

Fine. But only because I missed you, you stupid bat. 

Love you too, sis. 

You closed the journal and tucked it beneath one thigh, adjusting the blanket you’d brought down with you so it’s fully covering the little book. It didn’t take long before you heard his light footsteps descending the stairs. Using the back of your hand, you wiped away the lingering moisture in your eyes and then straightened in your seat. 

“Skipping my welcome home dinner?” He asked as he approached your little reading nook, a lazy grin and raised eyebrows painted on his face. 

You scoffed, careful to keep your journal hidden as you stood up to throw yourself into his open, waiting arms. His wings closed around the two of you and you’re grateful for the extra pressure against your back. 

“I missed you too,” he muttered into your hair, pulling your face tight to his chest. 

The two of you stood there for a long time; Rhys could always sense when you needed something steady to hold onto. He claims it started before he even knew he had a sister, that sometimes late at night he could hear muffled sobs echoing in the back of his mind. That a gaunt little girl trapped under the mountain haunted his dreams for years before he was allowed to visit.

His father made sure he stayed away. 

But as Rhys settled into his powers and got full control of them, he was able to establish a stable connection. It took a while before you trusted him; after all, you grew up with your mother telling you that the High Lord and his heir despised you. 

Your sire, as Mother called him, had thrown her under the Mountain as soon as he found out she was pregnant. Set her up with a place to stay and not much else; you had a new stepfather every few years, and each one was worse than the last. The Black Widow, they called her, as her husbands had a habit of dying in unfortunate accidents. 

As adults, you and Rhys were closer than most siblings, even those that grew up together. Unfortunately, that meant you had no choice but to get your shit together because running away was not an option. 

“Wanna tell me why my General looks like a kicked puppy?” Rhys murmured into your hair. You felt the bond clench, tugging on your heart, and groan against your brother’s chest. 

He ran a comforting hand up and down your back and you signed, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep what happened a secret for much longer, what with all the meddling busybodies you surrounded yourself with.

“We fought,” you muttered. “I’ve been avoiding him ever since.” 

“And what, pray tell, did you fight about?” 

You lifted your head, eyes glistening in the low candlelight as you blinked up at your brother. Heaving a sigh, you tell him everything that happened while he was gone. As soon as you opened your mouth, the words spilled out of you like they’d been waiting for the opportunity to escape. 

Rhys had to stifle a chuckle when you finished your story because he loved you, but Mother above, you could be so stupid sometimes. 

“Oh, Y/N,” he sighed, tugging you closer. He rested his chin on the top of your head and tugged on the ends of your hair with one hand. 

You batted it away, groaning again. 

“Listen, I’m not going to tell you what to do because I know you hate that,” he started, negating your protests before they had a chance to form. “But I think you need to talk to him. Unless you plan on avoiding him for the rest of your life, you’re going to need to work things out one way or another.” 

“I could defect to another Court, I hear Summer’s wonderful this time of year.” Rhys shoved you towards the front of the library, ruffling your hair. 

“Talk to him, you insufferable brat.” 

—

It was surprisingly easy to find Cassian. He nearly knocked you over with the force of his pacing as you rounded the corner into the hallway leading to the kitchen and dining room. 

“Oh, Y/N, hi,” he said, one arm bending to scratch the back of his neck. You could just barely make out a hint of red on the apples of his cheeks, though his tanned skin does a good job of trying to hide it. 

“Hey, Cassie,” you said. His name came out breathier than you intended. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.” Cas was quiet, clearly ready to let you say what you needed to say. He leaned against the wall, nodding at you to keep going. After a deep breath, you did. “I’m sorry for being so rude and dramatic. The bond snapped for me a while ago, and I let the pent-up jealousy and bitterness get to me. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’ll try to be better about keeping my thoughts to myself in the future. Just because we’re bonded doesn’t mean you’re obligated to be with me. Whatever you choose, I’ll respect your decision, I promise.” 

He smirked, pushed away from the wall, and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you standing there alone and confused. 

A minute later, he was back with a giant cookie clutched in one hand; your favorite. It was a little burnt around the edges, but smells perfect. He closed the distance between the two of you in three long strides, wrapping his free arm around your waist. 

“It’s you, it’s always been you, Y/N,” he breathed, leaning in until his lips hovered over yours for a few long, deliciously agonizing seconds before he pushed forward and captured them in a searing kiss.  

You respond, startled but thrilled, and get lost in each other. He pulls away and holds the cookie to your lips, and you almost bite into it before remembering where you are then take a step back with your cheeks oozing heat, pushing his hand down to his ease the temptation rising from your core, into your chest, and up your throat. After four years of lying dormant, the bond threatened to take control of your body. 

“We should probably go somewhere a bit more.. private,” you say, wrinkling your nose at the thought of someone, Mother forbid your brother, interrupting the frenzy. 

Cassian growled. Going to the cottage, he said to Rhys, melting his mental shields down just enough to let the message flow between their minds. 

Does this mean..? Rhys’s response is hesitant but hopeful.  

Yes, Cassian’s response is gruff. Keep everyone away. I reserve the right to tear any intruders limb from limb. 

He shut the connection, cutting Rhys off mid-cackle. His threat was genuine. Even just the idea of the frenzy has him boiling through his skin. 

Cas scooped you into his arms and took off running down the hallway. As soon as you burst through the back door, he pushed off and then you were soaring through the sky towards Windhaven. 

Towards your future with your mate.

Taglist: @esahintzkanen @loving-and-dreaming @lisanna2000 @jollyflowerkitty @graciepies @evergreenlark @Maewritez @aurorab99 @pescipiccanti @elissanatok @vanserrasimp @mich0731 @juniperberriesaries @sandramalikstyles @ivy-34 @thecraziestcrayon @pey2618

[aphroditestempleimagines]

Sensei

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!Reader - 18+

Words: 2910

Warnings: Office sex, almost getting caught, oral (fem!receiving), lingerie, seduction, come eating, vaginal sex, fingering, rough sex, use of pet names, lowkey punishment/bdsm, nipple play, (expensive) chair sex, desk sex, spanking, creampie, unprotected sex (birth control), hickeys, bruising, slight praise , restrained hands

Summary: You surprise Satoru in his office with a gift you bought for "him".

Author's note: oh you know that chair would be ruined. And the desk. And my prospects in life.

Colour: pure filth

Knock knock knock

You tapped Satoru's door three times, but you would not have had to do it once for him to notice your arrival. You could picture him, smirking in his large leather chair as he said "Come in".

You took a deep breath. It was his birthday, yet he had to stay at the school until the lights were out; then the two of you would go out for dinner and a nightcap to celebrate. But that was not merely enough. He was spending his special day cooped up in a classroom or his office, alone. You calculated your visit to coincide with his break between morning and evening sessions. You tied the belt of your flimsy coat a little firmer, even though you counted on it being thrown on the floor pretty soon, and you wore your best smile before opening the door.

Even though hidden behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes were brimming with love as he rested his head on his palm. "Won't you look who's here", he smiled, "Couldn't stay away?"

"No", you shut the door with your back, "I had to hand my report to principal Yaga"

"Oh?", his smile fell off. He easily bought excuses like that. But when he saw your wicked grin as you approached he seemed to understand. "And how did that go?", he smirked. He pushed his blindfold over his head, his gorgeous blue eyes taking in his favourite type of view.

You put one knee on his chair, then the other. You climbed on his thighs, straddling his tall body. "He scolded me for what i was wearing. He said it was inappropriate attire for a place of education", you slowly untied your belt, "What do you think, sensei?".

You leaned close to his ear to whisper the last word. Satoru turned his head away, his large hand covering his lips and part of his flushed cheeks. His eyes kept darting at the black piece of lingerie that elegantly framed your curves. "That is ahem", he cleared the lump you placed in his throat, "That is certainly inappropriate". His other hand wrapped around your waist, his leg lifting to push you further on to his chest. His lips broke again into a grin. "I think your teacher should give you a lesson you how to behave", he held your chin with one hand, his thumb teasing your lower lip, "Would you like that, my love?"

"I'll do what my sensei asks me to", you smiled.

Satoru breathed hard. He scanned your body from top to bottom, from the black stockings held up by a lace garter, to your lace panties and bra decorated with small cerulian lilies. "What if your sensei finds you delectable", he pushed his thumb between your lips. His other hand rode up your thigh, "What if he wants to buy you this lovely set anew after he tears this one to pieces"

He took your lips in his, his tongue diving in to explore the cavern of your mouth. He held you by the nape and thigh, pulling you close as he ached to be one with you. His mouth moved to suck on your neck, his nips and kisses trailing down to your shoulder. He twisted a strand of your hair with his finger. "You would not mind if I played a little rough then?", his hand climbed below the band of your panties. He brushed your heated cheek with his thumb. You moved your hips against him, pulling out a low grunt. He held you down, his fingers reaching between your legs to tease your core. "Actually", he said, "I know how to get an answer from you"

He plunged two of his fingers between your walls, his lips returning to steal your moans. With his free hand, he pulled down your bra and held it as a rope tied around you to keep you close. He took one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue keeping your nipple warm as the other hardened under the brisk air of the room. "See that desk over there?", his eyes gestured to his left, "I'm gonna make you come here on my thigh, then bend you over it and take you from behind until you beg for mercy". He smirked as your walls clenched around his fingers. He climbed up to softly bite your ear. "Oh you liked that?", he murmured in a low tone, "Seems to me it will be more like a reward rather than a punishment"

His fingers stopped moving inside you. His thumb only continued to slowly massage your bud.

"Satoru", you buried your head in his shoulder, your hips trying to move against his restraining hand.

"What is it darling?", he said casually.

"Please"

"Say it", he sucked on your skin below your chin.

"What?"

"Say what you want me to do", he ran his fingers through your hair, "Say that you want me to fuck you as if I own you"

"Gosh", you squinted your eyes as you tightened around his digits, "Yes, Satoru, please. I want you. I want you inside me, ah"

His fingers picked up a steady pace. "Go on", his hand fondled your breast, his blue eyes fixed on yours.

"I-I want-", your sentence was cut short as he sucked on your neck, inevitably leaving a mark this time. "Fuck", he curled his fingers inside you, "Satoru"

He bit your lower lip in approval. He added another one of his digits inside you, your hands pulling at his silver strands of hair as he did. "Tell me what I want to hear", he spoke, his hand landing on your thigh, "Do it and I'll fuck you harder than you've ever had in your life"

"Satoru", his long fingers reached spots inside you that yours could not. You tried to hide your blush in the crook of his neck but he lifted your chin. His eyes looked deep into yours and you could tell they were at least equally filled with lust, if not more.

"Say it", he whispered.

"I", your insides twisted in the prelude of your orgasm,"I want you to fuck me. Fuck me as if you own me"

He took your lips into his. "That's my girl", he breathed as he broke the kiss.

He reached with his other hand to play with your clit, his fingers thrusting faster and harder inside you. Your fingers sought refuge in his silver hair as he buried his face in your chest. His digits curled and scraped your walls inside you until you could not keep down your voice anymore.

"Found it", he smirked as he nipped on your breast, "You want to cum my love?"

"Yes, Satoru", you panted, "Gosh"

"Do it", he leaned back, pulling you with him to thrust his fingers in a better angle, "I want you dripping all over my thigh"

You whined an uninterpretable sound as the knot in your stomach finally broke and you came all over Satoru's expensive trousers. His fingers slow down, squelching as they dove inside your cunt to gather some of your essence before bringing it to his lips. His tongue twirled around them in front of your eyes, putting on a show.

"Gosh", he pulled your flushed face in for a hungry kiss. He kept his hand on your cheek as he broke away, his eyes examining yours. "That face", he breathed, his thumb brushing over your skin, "Don't show anyone else that face, you understand?". He lifted the two of you up from the leather chair. He let you down, using his body to push you to walk backwards towards the desk. "No one else but me", he continued kissing your body, his voice growing desperate, "This face, this heart, this body; they all belong to me". He kissed the curve of your neck. "Say it", he commanded.

"I'm yours Satoru", you planted a kiss near his ear, "I love you. Only you"

His next kiss took your breath away. His body trapped yours against the desk and you knew there was no part of him you could not feel. His fingers laced through your hair, lulling your head back to expose your neck to his teeth.

"You have no idea what you do to me", his voice came strained as his length pressed against the confines of his trousers, "I'm gonna make you repay me for the heart you stole from me".

He turned you around. He put his blindfold over your eyes. Something about the darkness made all your other senses hyperaware. A rip was heart and the brisk air of the room touched the few parts of your lower body your panties used to cover. Gojo used one hand to trap both of yours behind your back.

"Do you want me to do what I want with you?", his fingers stretched open your core, "This is what I want".

He plunged his length inside your walls until his hips met yours. You let out a shriek but your heaving breath soon let Gojo know you were alright. And then, he started moving.

"I want you dumb for my cock", he thrust his hips hard to meet yours in an erotic melody, "I want to be the ONLY reason this fucking pussy gets wet. I want you mewling. I want you drooling. I want you begging me to fuck you some more"

You really stopped thinking straight when it came to him. His words had you clenching on his length. The low moan that escaped his throat drew a whine from you as well. With one hand he bruised your hips, with the other he lovingly held your waist. His thumb massaged your skin with care as he delivered a couple of spanks on your lower cheeks. He took your breath away with each deep thrust, his tip kissing your cervix.

You winced as a hand covered your mouth. Gojo stilled. He pressed his body against yours, his eyes and ears focused on the door. A little later, a knock was heard.

"Gojo-sensei", Itadori's voice came from the other side, "Nanamin just came back. You said you wanted to know"

Gojo pinched your clit, grunting as you bit down on his fingers to avoid moaning. "Thanks Yujji", his voice faked calmness, "I'll be right-"

"What do you want with me again you idiot?", Nanami's deep voice rang behind the closed door, "It is enough that I have to pick up the pieces of your irresponsibility"

The handle of the door started to turn. You held your breath, but that did nothing to stop your heart from racing to escape your chest. Gojo stretched his hand towards the entrance and blocked it with a mild application of Red. His other hand wrapped around your waist to comfort you. You squeezed your lips tight. You could not let your moans escape now that they were freed from your lover's protection.

"The hell?", said Nanami.

"I'm kinda busy right now, I'll meet you outside", said Gojo.

"Busy?", Kento's non-challant voice queried, "What could you possibly be doing?"

"Are you really going to have me say that in front of Yuji?", Suguru mocked, "Man, Nanamin, you really are pervert"

Silence. Gojo placed a soft kiss on your neck. Your face turned redder than a radish. The handle returned to its original position. "Vulgar idiot", Kento said before dragging a very confused Yuji away. Sukuna's laughter could be heard even as they reached the end of the hallway.

Satoru chuckled at the sound of your relief. He held your body close, his face buried in your hair as he inhaled your scent. He placed a few loving kisses over the marks he had left on your skin. "Don't look so disappointed", he pushed you back down as you frowned, "I can still call them back". He tore his blindfold away from your eyes to gaze into their shock. "Would you like that?", he grunted as your walls squeezed him. "Too bad it's never gonna happen", he gave you a single hard thrust, "They don't get to see this view. I alone am the honored one".

He leaned closer to plant kisses on your back. He followed the imprint of your spine from your nape to your waist, all the while slowly drawing circles on your clit and tailbone alike. His lips reached for your ear.

"Y/n", he called softly, almost fearful, "Are you on the pill?"

Your eyes widened at his implication. "Yes", you muttered, your head turning enough for you to meet his gaze.

"Well", his voice dropped into a purr, "Wanna test how effective it is?"

You blushed, hiding your face on the desk. Satoru chuckled as he combed your hair away from your nape.

"Do I take that as a yes?", he showered kisses on your shoulder.

"Mhm", you nodded, your hips trying to wiggle in the small space between his body and the desk.

Satoru left a peck on your nose. He untied your hands and rubbed the small of your back. "You might wanna grab on the desk, my love", he said picking up a slow but precise pace, "I am not gonna hold back"

You smiled. "Good", you said before Gojo thrust his length impossibly deep inside you. You were not going to follow his advice, but one thrust and your hands flung ahead to claw at the edge of the desk. He continued his hard ministrations, his hands harshly gripping your hips. He inserted one of his long fingers next to his length, his thumb pinching your bud again and again. He heaved on top of your back, your name escaping his lips like a prayer from time to time; of all the things he was doing, that soft sound was what had your walls squeezing him the most.

"Satoru", you whined, "I'm gonna..."

"Not yet", he kissed your back, "It'll hurt if you do"

"Satoru"

"Say my name again", he sped up to a rhythm that had your toes curling inside your heels, "i need to hear it. Tell me how good you feel"

"Fuck Satoru", you heaved, your mind barely processing what he was saying as you struggled to keep yourself from collapsing, "So good"

He let out a low grunt. "Ask me", he plead, "Beg me to fill your tight pussy up".

Yor grip on the hardwood of the desk tightened even more. "Please Satoru", you said, "'I want you to do it inside".

You could feel how his length tingled inside you; he was so close. You shut your eyes as its tremble teased your sensitive walls, threatening to throw you over the brim.

Satoru added another finger next to his cock and moved them in tandem. "Better keep it all in", he said, "I'm gonna eat you out after this"

You could not hold back anymore. With a loud moan you desperately tried to muffle under your hand, you came all over Satoru's length. A white ring formed at his base as he continued for a couple of thrusts before pushing his cock all the way in with a thrust that managed to move the heavy desk. He leaned on top of you as thick ropes of his cum shot inside you. He planted sweet kisses on your weakened body before he finally pulled out. You flintched as his fingers gathered the dripping juices from around your folds. He helped you turn and lifted you up to sit on the desk, licking his fingers.

He looked down at your thighs. He brushed his thumb over the reddish tint of the desk's imprint your session had left behind. "I imagined this would happen", he sighed before he kneeled to bury his head between your legs. He kissed across the red lines, just above the edge of your stocking. His hands massaged your tired legs.

"Satoru", you trembled, "What are you doing"

"Hush", he said, "Just lay down"

You did as he said. Your hand reached for his silver hair to pet as he moved further up your leg. He comfortingly brushed his hand up and down your thigh again and again.

"Shouldn't I do that?", you said weakly, "It's your birthday"

"Yes it is", he licked some of your combined essences from your clit, "You told me to do what I wanted to you. And right now I want to do this".

His tongue teased your entrance, diving just a tiny bit inside. And yet, after your lrevious orgasm, even that was enough for you to pull on his hair, keeping him close.

"Can you take tomorrow off?", he asked.

"I think?", you said curiously.

"Good", he returned his lips to your clit, "It'd be weird if others saw you struggle to walk"

He climbed up to kiss you on the lips. It was sweet, and salty, he and you combined.

"We're gonna go out cause I know you worked hard for this", he said between kisses, "But I want you to know that all I'll be thinking about will be you dressed like this; on your knees, on your back, on top of me or below me". He cupped your cheeks as he pulled you in for a deeper kiss, his knee rubbing against your folds. "I want you to be so wet when we get back that I can fuck you behind the closed front door".

[a-doubleh-x]

Buttonblossom Analysis in TADC Episode 2

(Background rainbows: hint, hint)

Ragatha was so sweet to Pomni in episode 2 🥺💖 Most people caught onto the obvious fact that Raggs is being codependant and leans onto toxic positivity on the way she tries to cheer up Pomni, but I still think for the most part her heart is in the right place.

I liked their dynamic in episode 1, but I liked it so much in 2 I decided to write a little analysis on it (plus the ship fuel 👀) in preparation for the romance fic I'm writing about them.

Without further ado, let's go!

Looking back at Ragatha, on the good side, she made some very strong, active efforts to help her during her transition into the digital realm. She checked first thing in the morning if she was okay, she tried to make her feel included in the adventure at the beginning and showed care for her safety overall.

My favorite scene, though, is when the circus gang falls into the fudge river and after checking in on them, the first thing she says is: "Poor Pomni!" 😭 Girlie is so empathetic she even manages to care for someone who's not even there, while she's in a terrible situation herself!

I think this proves how much of a good person Raggs is. She doesn't just help people to feel good or superior, she does it because she geniuenly cares for other people's wellbeing and I find that very noble 😊

On the negative side, she seems to have some very particular communication issues with Pomni, even though she seems to be the circus memeber she cares the most about at the moment.

For starters, her attitude comes off as a little condescending very often. She hardly asks questions to Pomni and tends to assume for her. She hardly acknowledges some of her struggles and tries to downplay them, like when she degrades their experience as "larping". Also, she makes Pomni feel like a child when she tries to "hype her up" in her own words.

If we take Pomni's nightmare into consideration, it seems she believes Ragatha thinks Pomni is not "cut out for it", which might be a result of her condescending behavior I just mentioned.

This makes sense to me and also sheds a little bit of light on how Pomni sees herself as: small and insignificant. It's unclear at the moment how she was before on the physical world, but I speculate based on this evidence she probably didn't think she had much agency in her life (just how she feels in the circus).

At the end, however, thanks to her experience with Gummigoo and looking at the crew grief over Kaufmo's abstraction, Pomni opens herself more to the crew, which is a very good sign.

I think her current dynamic with Ragatha is wicked cool! ✨️ There's a lot of room for growth, which is good in my opinion. Ragatha clearly cares a lot about Pomni and I think with time she could grow to reciprocate her as well.

Despite her cowardness in episode 1, I always had the feeling that Pomz was deep down a caring individual as well, which was solidly proven in 2 with her interactions with Gummi.

On the fanon side, I saw a lot of fans foaming at the mouth (myself included) over the fact that Ragatha was such a tryhard with Pomni (which was anticipated to be the contrary). Some fans have interpreted their potential dynamics as both being shy, which I really, really like.

I believe I will definitely include that in my future fanfic. Another idea I wanted to explore is Pomni talking to Ragatha about her overbearing issues, while still appreciating her good qualities at the same time.

I think it's going to be great ☺️❤ I already look forward to what the end result is going to be. I love mutual pining and I love sweet lesbians caring for each other (even when they're silly girlfails). I'm planning to start by submitting chapter 1 by next Friday and submit a new one every following one, as I've done before.

Get ready for digital lesbian shenanigans 🎪💙🎀 See ya!

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Troubling situationship

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Charles one-shot, if you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist. (Btw I saw Wicked yesterday and I really enjoyed it, now I just have to wait for part 2 :)

Your heart races as you catch Charles' eyes across the dimly lit bar. He's magnetic, an unspoken charm exuding from his every move. Everyone seems to orbit around him, but tonight, his gaze is locked on you. His smile—crooked, playful—makes your stomach flutter as he closes the distance between you.

"You alone tonight?" he asks, his voice smooth and familiar, as if he’s known you for years instead of a handful of fleeting moments stretched across stolen nights.

You tilt your head, playing along. "I was, but I guess that's about to change."

The world fades. It always does when you’re with him. His presence has a way of cutting through the noise, leaving just the two of you in a golden haze where nothing else matters. When he pulls you to the dance floor, his hand resting low on your back, the crowd dissolves, and all you feel is him—his touch, his warmth, the way his breath brushes your ear as he whispers something that makes you laugh.

The cab ride to his apartment is quiet, a different kind of electricity humming between you. His hand rests on your thigh, thumb brushing lazy circles that send sparks up your spine. Neither of you speaks; words aren’t necessary. The tension speaks for itself, thick and undeniable, coiling tighter with every passing second.

Inside, the quiet intimacy deepens. You find yourself pressed against the cool wall of his hallway, his lips on yours—soft, then demanding. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he cages you in with his body. The world outside his apartment ceases to exist. It’s just him, just you, just the way you fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“You drive me insane, you know that?” he murmurs, his lips grazing your jaw as his fingers find your waist.

You smile, breathless. “The feeling’s mutual.”

It’s always like this with Charles: fiery, intense, impossible to define. Neither of you ever says what you are, but it doesn’t matter. When he’s with you, everything feels clear, simple. But when he’s gone—when the morning light creeps in, and his side of the bed is cold—you’re left wondering if you’re the only one who feels the way the air shifts when you’re together.

The in-between is unbearable. Days without his texts feel like an eternity, and when you see him—usually at another bar, another party, always surrounded by people—it’s hard to act unaffected. Especially when his attention strays to anyone else, your calm demeanor slips. You tell yourself it’s casual, that you shouldn’t care, but the truth claws its way out in the quiet moments when you’re alone.

Tonight, though, he’s all yours. His shirt is unbuttoned, hair a mess from your hands, and his lips are stained faintly with your lipstick. He’s leaning against the headboard, watching you with that half-smirk you can never resist.

“You’re staring,” you tease, crawling toward him.

“I’m admiring,” he counters, pulling you into his lap. “Is that a crime?”

“You tell me,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his. He responds in kind, deepening the kiss until you’re both lost again, tangled up in each other.

When you’re with him, everything feels inevitable, like you were always meant to end up here. The pieces fall into place effortlessly—his touch igniting sparks on your skin, your laughter echoing in his ears. There’s a rhythm to it, a push and pull you can’t quite escape. You don’t want to escape.

But the morning always comes, and with it, the questions you’re too afraid to ask. Are you just a distraction for him? A fleeting escape from the pressures of his world? Or does he feel the way your heart races when he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters?

As dawn breaks through his curtains, you stir, finding him still asleep beside you. His hair is tousled, his breathing soft and steady. For a moment, you let yourself hope, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. You want to freeze time, to hold onto this version of him—of you—that feels so perfect.

But perfection is fleeting, and you know better than to cling too tightly.

When he finally stirs, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours, he smiles. “Morning,” he says, voice husky with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, trying to keep the ache out of your voice.

He doesn’t notice, or maybe he does but chooses not to acknowledge it. Instead, he pulls you closer, his lips brushing your forehead. “Stay,” he murmurs, and for a moment, you think he means it.

But you’ve been here before. You’ve heard the sweet words, felt the warmth of his arms, only to watch it all fade as the day wears on. Still, you nod, letting yourself get caught in the illusion for just a little longer.

Because with Charles, even if it’s only for a night, it’s worth it. The magic, the fire, the way he makes you feel like the center of the universe—it’s addictive. And you know you’ll keep coming back, no matter how much it breaks you when it’s over.

[sodamnradd]

Hermione couldn’t do it. She could not enter that ballroom. Every muscle in her body had locked up, refusing to take a step further.

This was why they should just keep things casual.

They were good at casual. Or their version of it. The one where they awoke in each other’s arms and Draco summoned buttery pastries and fresh strawberries to bed as they discussed their latest fascinations until noon. The occasional indulgent trips to France, where he showered her with nonsensical gifts like frilly lingerie from secret boutiques, or flowers so fresh their perfume wafted down the boulevard. Where they clinked frosty glasses of crisp champagne before he slowly undid her dress, pressing open-mouthed kisses down her shoulder. Each a promise of all the wicked things he intended to do to her as the night stretched out. The kind of casual that left a smile on Hermione’s face every morning and a lightness in her step that her friends said made her glow.

But this—

“Granger.” Draco’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his voice like velvet as he greeted her fondly.

She didn’t arch into him like she normally would, or rest her head on his shoulder so he could pepper her neck with little kisses. Her body was a tight spring, coiled with tension.

Lucius Malfoy was in there.

And their Slytherin classmates, and their parents, and their pure-blood friends.

She felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter.

“Darling.” Draco kissed her temple. His voice blended into the lush symphony pouring out of the Malfoys’ ballroom. Every molecule of his body belonged here. She’d never felt so alone in his company.

Sensing her distress, he guided her to a rose-adorned pillar away from prying eyes. He observed her with a mixture of concern and awe, admiring her in sheer tulle and layered skirts that intensified like dusk. Another gift, delivered with an exorbitant bouquet of her favourite peonies and an invitation to his family’s Spring Ball.

She was no idiot. She knew what it was insinuating. This wasn’t casual anymore, and she had her doubts if it ever had been.

“I-I can’t go in there.” Her voice trembled. She hoped he saw the blind panic in her eyes, pleading with him to set her free. “I’m sorry, Draco.” She hated disappointing him. It summoned strange, throbbing, rather un-casual aches to her chest.

But he only kissed her forehead and enfolded her in his firm embrace. “If you want to leave, we’ll leave,” he said in a low, careful voice. “But I promise I will never let them hurt you again. If you take my hand and come with me, I’ll make sure you feel like the most powerful woman in that room.” He stepped back, lifting her chin so their gazes met. “Because you damn well are, Hermione. You’re the most powerful person in there.”

It was the highest praise from a Slytherin. And she knew he meant it.

He looked unbearably handsome tonight in midnight blue robes that matched the darkest layers of her dress, his hair tousled just how she liked. A dazzling confidence emanated off of him. This was Draco’s world, and he wanted her to be a part of it.

She stared at his hand, palm up, fingers spread, awaiting hers to fill the gaps.

But first she asked, “Who am I to you?”

He looked at her earnestly. “I’ll spend the rest of my life with you, Hermione. If you’ll have me.”

She sighed a slow, steadying breath. Then took his hand, fortified.

He placed a light kiss on her knuckles, mouth curving into a relieved smile, and they entered the ballroom just like that—Draco’s lips pressed to the back of her hand, announcing to everyone exactly who she was to him.

(633 words, prompt: friends with benefits/spring ball/I will never let them hurt you again, cross-posted from twitter -- also, i made the prompt builder so feel free to write your own spring-themed ficlet using it!)