#You can see the lights glinting off his scruff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mediumgayitalian · 6 months

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part one

———

Finding parking is, as expected, hard, largely in part because Michael wants to get them all killed.

“— yeah, that’s right, shitwad! Back off! We were here —”

“Will you please shut the fuck up,” Lee hisses, jamming the switch for Michael’s window. Unfortunately, Michael is sticking his fucking head out of it, so it won’t close.

“This fucking guy! This fucking guy thinks he can swoop up to our spot —”

“Motherfucker we’re in Wilmington, do you want to get fucking shot —”

“He can wait his godsdamn turn like everybody else! Hey, fucker —”

He succeeds, finally, in yanking his brother back in by the scruff of his neck and speeding away from the shitwad in question.

“I can’t believe you let him walk all over us!”

“If I end up with a bullet hole through my windshield, I am kicking your ass, Michael. I won’t need to worry about some trigger happy mortal taking you out. I’ll kill you.”

“Drama queen. Now we’re never gonna find a damn spot.”

They do, in fact, find a damn spot. Within forty-three seconds of Michael saying that, actually, Will points out not just a parking spot but a pull-through, which Lee takes, smirking. Michael aims a kick for his knee.

“Go help Will unbuckle, you bitter bitch. I gotta grab something.”

Ignoring both Michael’s grumbling and Will’s insistence that he can unbuckle himself, thank you very much, Lee jogs over to the trunk. He grabs his and Michael’s bows, just in case, and carefully grabs the bundle of roses he bought from the stand across from his apartment. The stems are a little crushed, but the flowers all seem fine, full and bright, sunny yellow. Even the paper is relatively uncrinkled, folding delicately around the thorny leaves.

Michael nods when he sees them. “Nice.”

“Thanks.” Lee tosses him his bow, slinging his own over his back. It flickers with his quiver under the Mist, settling eventually to look like a small backpack. “Got ‘em this morning.”

“Can I hold them?” Will asks.

“Sure, kiddo.”

He lays them gently in his arms, the same way Cass has taught him to bundle herbs and plants when they gather for poultices. Every step is suddenly much more deliberate, avoiding potholes and cracks in the pavement so he doesn’t trip and crush them under his body. When he nearly walks in front of a car, not paying attention, Michael plants a hand on his head, guiding him around like a claw machine.

“Okay,” Lee says, holding open the door. “Let’s find Diana.”

The lobby is crowded. There are people everywhere — families, grandparents, and of course dozens of dancers, shining hair pieces glinting in the low lights, tutus and rhinestones peeking out of studio sweatsuits. Faces heavy with stage makeup bleed into each other. The building is abuzz with sound, chatter and laughter and shouting and twenty different songs playing at once. Lee can hardly believe they’re all fitting in the same building, and almost convinces himself it’s actually enchanted, smaller on the outside. He glances down when Will backs into him, flowers clutched tighter to his chest, and rests a firm hand on his shoulder. He hooks his finger around Michael’s hoodie, too, and for once he doesn’t complain.

“You see her?” he shouts over the noise. Or, well, Lee’s pretty sure that’s what he said. He shakes his head, anyway, and Michael scowls, standing uselessly on his tiptoes. Even if that didn’t put him just barely over most people’s shoulders, the throng of people is too thick to see much. People elbow and push each other around to meet up with family members, and groups of dancers do their best to practice their routines in what limited space is available. Lee has felt less claustrophobic in Times Square at Christmas.

In a stroke of brilliance, in his very humble opinion, he lets go of Will’s shoulder, puts both hands under his arms, and hauls him over his head, settling him on his shoulders.

“Keep an eye out,” he shouts.

Will grins, tugging on Lee’s hair with his free hand in confirmation.

One hand clamped over Will’s knees, the other still hooked on Michael’s hoodie, Lee starts to wade through the crowd. He can start to see, as he gets farther from the door, the entrance to the stage, the ticket stands, the coat check. Several banners hang temporarily from the ceiling and stick to doorways, welcoming them all to the Twenty-Sixth Annual Believe Dance Comp!, and a table laden with trophies sits proudly by the stage doors.

Sitting under one of the banners, Lee notices a group of girls of varying ages, all wearing the green and purple Stage Lights Dance Academy Cass sometimes wears. He guides them closer, scanning each stage makeup-ed face to try and find his sister, but stops short before he gets too close.

Two girls, sitting at the head of the group, mime twisting their hair, exaggeratedly anxious looks on their faces. The rest of the girls roar with laughter.

Lee feels something heavy settle in his stomach.

“You think anyone will come for her?” a younger girl asks, hushed so that Lee can barely hear her over the crowd.

One of the older girls snorts. “Are you kidding? The only way her mom will come is if there’s an open bar!”

Lee is reminded of the one and only time he’d fought a group of empousai. There’d been a trio of them a Central Park, on a field trip he’d gone on with his ninth grade class, surrounding one of the oak dryads. They’d crooned at her, tugging on her leafy hair and trailing clawed fingers down her handmade dress, calling out backhanded compliments. But Lee’s skin felt like it was crawling, he remembers, and the dryad had been tense, green tears building in her eyes. Every bleat of their laughter had grated his ears, and he’d snapped, eventually, ripping off his bow and picking them off one by one. The third one had seen him, chasing him away from his group, but he’d been so mad that he wasn’t even scared. The dryad hadn’t done anything. They got nothing from poking at her. They’d just done it to be cruel, because it was fun for them.

“I don’t even know why she has the gall to show up. She missed the final practice.”

“Miss Breanna likes her, that’s why,” one of the girls scoffs. “Of course she can skiff off practice and still compete. She thinks she’s so much better than us.”

Michael shifts forward. Lee throws out an arm to stop him, shooting him a warning look.

“You think anyone’ll take your side?” he murmurs.

“They’re talking about —!”

“I know, Michael.”

“They can’t talk about her like that!”

“I know, Michael.” He forces his jaw to unclench. “I know.”

“Yeah, well, favourite or not,” another dancer says wickedly, “her seats will be empty again. And she’ll walk out empty-handed and alone, like she always does.”

Most of the adults milling about the lobby hold flowers, like they do. Except unlike them, their bouquets are large, unlike them the stems are not crushed, unlike them they are wrapped in ribbons, in embroidered banners. One is, even, shaped as a ballet slipper, and Lee notices the oldest girl in the group, the one who made the joke about Cass’s mother, eyeing it, smirking.

He pictures Cass holding it next to all the other girls from her studio. With their big, normal families, their wide smiles, their fancy cameras, their beautiful, expensive bouquets. Pictures the smirks that will be sent her way, the whispers. They can’t — gods, what was he thinking?

“What time is it?” he asks.

Michael glances at his watch. “Quarter to.”

“Hm.”

In her frantic IM, yesterday, Diana had ordered them to be here by noon. From what little he knows about dance competitions, Cass’s performance will be sometime after that, nestled among the many. When exactly, he doesn’t know.

If they leave now, wagering, they could miss it. And that would be the worst thing of them all. But…

“Will,” he says, suddenly getting an idea. “C’mere.”

He reaches up and sets Will back on the ground, clutching his hand as he weaves through the crowd, beelining for the far corner. He stops at a sign with a little stick person on it, gently taking the flowers from Will’s hold and passing them back to Michael.

“Listen to me carefully.” He crouches to Will’s level, meeting his eyes. “Diana is — somewhere, in there, getting Cass ready. Michael and I can’t go in there. We need you to go in and act really confused.”

“That will be very easy, because I am confused,” Will protests. “Why do I have to go in there? I don’t even really know why we’re here!”

“Just — go in,” Lee insists. “Trust me. If I give you more instructions, it’ll ruin it.”

Huffing, Will goes.

“Brilliant,” Michael mutters. “Lose the kid and Diana. Great plan, Lee.”

“Come on, does no one trust me?”

“No one knows what you’re doing, dude! You hang around Carter for five minutes and suddenly you think you’re Mr. Plan Guy —”

Lee flushes. “That is not what this is about!”

“I am not missing this! I swear Lee, if we’re late —”

“We’re not gonna be late!”

“Why is it that every boy on Earth is actually stupid,” hisses a new voice. The change room door busts open, damn near cracking under the heel of a heavy boot, and Diana comes striding out behind it, Will perched on her hip. Her short dark hair sticks out in every which way, shoulders tense as a line, mouth twisted in a scowl. Immediately, Lee and Michael snap their mouths shut.

“Hey,” Will complains, pouting.

She adjusts her hold on him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Not you, sweetpea. Only Thing One and Thing Two, over here.” She glares at them. “Why did I find him wandering around in the change room? I told you to wait for me in the lobby! I swear you two want to — ruin this!”

“Hey,” Lee says, flinching back. “You know we don’t, Diana. That’s not fair.”

She scrubs a hand down her face, sighing. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. It’s just —” She presses another kiss to Will’s cheek and sets him down, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s been a rough morning. She keeps trying to call her mom, and — well.”

Lee hates that those girls were right. He hates it. He hates that they’ve been right before, that Cass has walked off the stage, face blank, alone. Hearing their giggling, probably. Twisting her hair around her fingers as she tries to hold it together.

His jaw tightens.

Not this fucking time.

“What time is Cass on?” he asks

“…Her solo at one-thirty,” Diana says. “But —”

“Great.” Lee grabs each brother’s shoulder, pulling them back. “We won’t be late, Diana, I promise.”

“Wait! Lee — dude, what are you —”

“We’ll meet you inside! Save us seats!”

“Lee! Get back here!”

“Seats!” Lee calls, glancing back. He makes a vague gesture in return to her incredulous, spread-wide hands, trying to convey the Situation. “We won’t be late! Promise!”

“I’ll kill you if you are!” she relents. “Be fucking back on time!”

———

In hindsight, it would have been smarter to take the car.

For whatever reason, both Lee and Michael assumed there would be a flower stand just outside the theatre. Neither of them had seen one on the way in, but it made sense. If Lee had a flower business, he’d probably put it next to a theatre. Where else would you put it?

Regardless, there isn’t anything close across the street, or even on the whole block. Will sits on his shoulders again, because it’s easier than trying to guide him, and every so often he glances at the watch Beckendorf made him, calling out the time.

“Will,” Lee begs, veering around a street corner, “you are not helping.”

“I am so!” He checks his watch again. “Twenty-seven minutes ‘til Cass starts. That’s why we’re here, right? To watch Cass dance?”

“So long as we make it in time,” Michael stresses. “Shit, Lee, maybe we should just head back. The flowers we have are fine —”

“Cass deserves more than fine.”

Michael snaps his mouth shut. “I know that.”

Lee slumps. “I — know you know. Sorry.”

Their steps fall in synch, footsteps making level prints in the light dusting of snow. On occasion a passing car drowns them out, but for the most part the only sound is their breathing, and Will picking at his nails. The shifting of their jackets.

“You’ll never undo it, Lee.” The road cross button makes a heavy click noise under Michael’s fist. The countdown for the walking man is loud, four, three, two, one. Three of the little lights are broken, making it look like its chest is cracked open. “There’s some shit you just can’t fix.”

“I’m not trying to — fix her,” he argues weakly. “I’m just…”

He can’t push away the horrible ache in his chest. The rapidly expanding feeling, the sinking chasm of expecting and hoping and being disappointed. Of looking out into the crowd to find a familiar face and not finding one. Of hearing giggles as you walk past and clenching your teeth, knowing. It balloons, pushing out on his ribcage, forcing its way up his throat.

Michael stops, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. Lee stares at a spot at the air above his shoulder, swallowing roughly, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, Lee. You think competing with those assholes is gonna — go back? Gonna magically bring her fucking — hell, bring Dad?”

Lee looks away. “Of course not.”

“We’re going to be there. That’s what matters, isn’t it? That’s what’s really important.”

“Oh, to hell with high horses, Michael. I’m fucking tired of — of pretending it’s okay!” He starts forward again, ignoring the twinge of pain in his skull when Will grips his hair, yelping at the sudden surge forward. Michael jogs to keep up. “It’s — fight these monsters, train these kids, lead your cabin. Ignore the fact that your dad couldn’t be assed to visit a few times a year, he’s an Olympian, after all, you understand. Well, I’m tired of it! I’m tired of —” he trips over a crack in the sidewalk, barely catching himself — “I’m tired of being so damn understanding!”

For a moment Michael says nothing. Lee’s breathing is heavy, shakey, and it takes effort to still the tremble in his hands.

“The girl,” Michael says eventually. “The prissy one, who sat closer to the door.”

“…What about her?”

“I just.” He chews at his bottom lip. “I’m not saying I disagree with you, dude, but you have issues, dude, and shit you need to work out. For real. Besides just —” he gestures broadly at the mostly empty street — “ranting into the air.” Slowly, a smirk spreads across his face. “It would be really, really funny to see her face if Cass walks out with a bouquet three times the size of hers, wouldn’t it.”

Lee matches his grin. “It would be.”

“Betcha she’d seethe.”

“Probably turn purple.”

They turn to each other, finally back in synch.

“Nineteen minutes,” Will pipes up.

Lee startles. He checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Let’s go.”

———

part three

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petrichor-han · 2 months

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something like love; billy the kid

PAIRING I billy the kid x afab!reader

CAST | william h. bonney (billy the kid)

WC | 1.4k

GENRE I fluff, smut, slight angst, established relationship, comfort

WARNINGS I explicit sexual content (making out, groping, unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie, knife play, riding), explicit language

A/N | requested by @wenjunehui. thank you for sending in an ask bae!! (event is now closed, but requests are open.)

REQUEST! | EVENT MASTERLIST

He came home late that night, his dark curls matted with sweat and his bright eyes painted with melancholy. His chest was heaving, as if he’d run there himself instead of riding his horse—you can see her out front with your own horse, grazing in the field by the moonlight. Before he can say anything about bringing the horses in for the night, wary of thieves, you pull him into a heated kiss, his lips hot and chapped against yours. He reciprocates, desperate for your touch, for your love and comfort. A moan nearly escapes his lips as you thread your fingers through his damp curls, knocking his hat to the ground as he gently pushes you backwards into the house.

“Darlin’, I…” he mumbles against your lips, his voice heavy with guilt, but you shush him by kissing him harder, not wanting to hear it at the moment—you know he’ll have excuse after excuse about why he’s late yet again. All logical, mind you, but not any less frustrating.

He closes the door behind him, sighing into the kiss before breaking it. His eyes are sad, and it makes your heart ache—you know he doesn’t mean it, the missed dates and lonely nights without any word from him. “I love you,” he says softly, as he takes your hand in his. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, across your knuckles, and then looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes again, like he’s pleading, begging you for forgiveness.

Only, there’s nothing to forgive. You’ve long since accepted that this is who your beloved Billy is, and that’s just fine with you. You wouldn’t mind more safety, more late nights with just the two of you, but you also understand the entanglements that he’s in. You gently pull your hand out of his grasp to caress his face, feeling his scruff against your hand. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes momentarily, his expression weary and sorrowful.

“If you really want to make it up to me, come on,” you say, your voice soft but laced with something more suggestive. It makes Billy’s eyes light up, realizing that you’re not really angry with him, that you want to love him and make him feel good. He lets you lead him to the bedroom, feeling his cock stirring in his pants already from your sudden dominant behavior.

Following your directions, he lays down on the bed as you pull off your dress, gasping as you straddle him to wrap a loose ribbon from your dress around his eyes as a makeshift blindfold. “Shh…” you shush him, leaning down to press a soothing kiss to his Adam’s apple, which bobs up and down as he gulps with anticipation. His cock throbs beneath you, stiffening quickly as you nestle yourself against him; your cunt pressed right up to his length. As you pull away, satisfied with the tight double knot you’ve fixed into the satin-y ribbon, your gaze falls onto the leather knife sheath attached to his belt, opposite of his gun holster. Grinning, you reach down to unsheath it, the spotless blade glinting in the warm evening light.

It might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen; the silvery knife ghosting over his throat, which swelled and contracted with every breath, every swallow he took. His soft gasp as he feels the blade pressing to his throat sends a thrill down your spine, one of domination, one of pure lust. “My love…” he whines softly, bucking his hips up against yours as you press the blade harder against the pale, sensitive skin.

“Too much?” you chuckle, watching a bead of sweat drip down his temple, soaking into the collar of his shirt. “Or… do you want more?”

Billy moans lowly at your accusatory tone, his cock throbbing against the constraints of his boxers and pants. “More… please, I want more,” he begs, trying to grind his cock against you harder, only resulting in you lifting your hips up teasingly. Whining at the loss of friction, he runs his hands up your thighs until they rest on your hips, pulling at the edges of your panties.

“Patience,” you scold, using the sharp knife to cut through his sweat soaked shirt, rather than wasting your time on all of the small buttons. He huffs in response, not pleased at your teasing nor your impatience and destruction of one of his shirts, but shrugs out of the remains before laying back down obediently. “Good,” you praise, dragging the blade down his torso, careful to not make any deep cuts. You leave a few thin lines that hardly bleed a drop, but remain a bright pinkish red—a faint reminder that he belongs to you, no matter where is or what he’s doing.

Instead of cutting through his pants, you decide to be nicer—you put down the knife and unbuckle his belt, tugging his pants and boxers down as he lifts his hips to make it easier for you.

You can’t help but giggle a little at the wetness of his tip, the precum leaking down his length. A sure sign of his excitement. Picking up the knife again, you jab the point against his tip, making him gasp and stiffen, his cheeks flushing bright red as he realizes what you’re doing. Yet, he doesn’t tell you to stop—he trusts you wholly, even as you lean over to let a glob of spit dribble from your tongue to his cock, using the glinting blade to spread it down his length carefully. He whimpers, his cock leaking more clear precum, shivering at your harsh teasing. “Please,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as you hear your own heartbeat quickening, the blood rushing in your ears.

Something inside of you says to have some mercy, so you put the knife away—for good this time, wiped hastily on your bed sheets before you slide it back into its sheath—and lean down to press your warm, soft lips against his slippery lip, making him moan and buck his hips as you eagerly suck around his length.

Your mercy has its limits though, and before long you remove your mouth from his cock, making him whimper in response. “Promise I’ll make you feel good, darlin’,” you say to him, your voice soft and soothing as you pull away momentarily to slip off your panties. Throwing them aside, you straddle him once again, reaching back to slap his cock against your soaking folds, making him groan deeply.

“I know you will,” he says softly, his voice nearly cracking at the end as it breaks off into a guttural groan as you sink down on him, your tight cunt engulfing his length.

You reach up to pull the makeshift blindfold away from his face, revealing his pleasing gaze; his bright blue eyes boring into yours as he moans from your continuous movements. You hardly give him time to adjust, instead riding him at the pace that you find most pleasurable. Luckily, he seems to find this pace just fine, his thighs twitching with uncontrollable pleasure beneath you as you swirl your hips over his, moaning softly as his thick cock presses deeper into you.

“Love when you ride me, baby,” he groans, looking up at you. He looks you up and down, catching his lower lip between his teeth as he admires you—as if he wanted to preserve this memory forever.

You grin in response, your cheeks flushing red as you quicken your pace. He can’t help but throw his head back and groan, chuckling softly as his cock throbs with pleasure inside of you. “You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that,” he says breathily, his hands squeezing your hips tightly, beginning to slowly guide you.

“Good. Cum for me,” you whisper, leaning down to bite down on his earlobe teasingly as your hands smooth over his scarred, muscular torso. You can feel his abs tensing underneath your palms as he gasps, his cock slipping out of you as he cums thick ropes across your back.

Panting, he smooths his hands over your curves, looking up at you hopefully, desperately. You know what he wants—you know him better than anyone. So you pull him into a gentle, reassuring kiss, your hands cupping his face as he squeezes the flesh of your hips tightly.

“I love you too,” you say softly, as you break the kiss momentarily. You hadn’t said it back earlier, you remember. Billy’s eyes sparkle in the light as he grins, pulling you into another passionate embrace—he loves you too.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid smut #william h bonney x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth smut

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superblysubpar · 1 year

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modern!steve harrington x fem!reader

We'll Call It Love Masterlist | song inspiration

7.1k words | 18+ NSFW

A/N: While this takes place in the middle of the series (a moment in time during Part 2: Cutie), I think it's actually kind of fun to read this after the first three chapters, little easter eggs and what not. I hope you enjoy this and thanks for your patience in waiting for this story! Part 4, 5 and the Epilogue are coming soon! 💛

Warnings: This story takes place in the middle of chapter two to my series "We'll Call It Love" linked above. | modern!steve | reader and steve drink wine | descriptions of wearing some of Steve's clothes, but size is not talked about | Reader likes sunsets, spiderman, and she never finished her college degree | SMUT (PIV unprotected intercourse) / public (on Steve's balcony - you are semi-caught)

The alarm didn’t go off on time, your shampoo got in your eyes, the toast was burnt, and your pantyhose and skirt were too tight - you don’t even want to start on the heels and the blister forming because of them. Not even the worst of it, because of course your boss yells at you in front of everyone, you spilt coffee on important documents, spent hours transcribing them, only for your boss to say she didn’t need them and watched as they landed inside the trash can as your soul left your body. Security lights and the glowing fish tank in the front room are your only company for the last two hours of your day as you fix mistakes and make calls, willing the bad day to just be over already.

Where you end up after a day like this doesn’t matter - it doesn’t mean anything.

Maybe there’s nothing wrong with reading the text from him asking if you’d like to come over and tell him more about it when you’ve already started driving there.

It’s not like you’re wanting the comfort this sort of gesture implies. No, it’s just a distraction, an attempt to salvage this horrible day with one thing - sex. Just ‘turn your brain off and let him help you forget the day’ sex. That’s all.

And it’s not like it’s a crime that the sight of Steve at the end of his hallway holding a very full glass of wine out for you makes your chest ache a little - you’ve had a bad fucking day, of course something like that makes you a little mushy. It doesn’t mean anything when your mouth splits into a grin to mirror his when he sees you.

Steve leans against his doorframe, his perfectly gelled and sprayed caramel locks set free from their styled position they’ve been trapped in all day. One hand scratches at his jaw, the dark scruff underneath at the length you won’t admit to him is your favorite. A navy dress shirt stretches across his shoulders, sleeves cuffed and rolled up his forearms. A few of the buttons are already undone, revealing a black undershirt, all tucked into his belt and gray slacks with perfect ironed creases. His feet cross as he leans back, the gold line across the black fabric reminding you that most likely, just his socks cost more than your whole outfit combined.

“So, rough day?” He extends the glass further towards you, the silver metal of his watch glinting in the soft hallway lighting. Taking the glass from him, you gulp down half of it far too quickly for what you’re sure is an expensive bottle of wine, brushing past him into the apartment.

“You have no idea,” swallowing another large gulp before answering. A sigh meeting a groan leaves you as your bag drops to the ground loudly. You kick off the heels you really should just throw out - well past their worn in phase and still giving you trouble.

“Actually,” Steve laughs as he locks the door behind him, “I do. You sort of texted me a live play-by-play all day.”

Your hand waves off the statement, ignoring the truth of it with a hum around another sip of wine. Steve starts to walk around you, his hand brushing your lower back. Blunt ends of his fingernails scratch softly through the thin fabric of your blouse as your senses tune into the altered state of his apartment. The lighting more dim than usual, overhead lights turned down to a muted glow, aided by the warmth of candles flickering on his island and in the living room. Music drifts quietly and lazily out of speakers and through the air - music you like - mingling with something that smells so good your mouth waters a little.

The glass of wine pauses before meeting your lips again as you watch Steve pick up a knife. He chops the last part of something green and leafy, brushing the food off the wood cutting board with the back of his knife into a pan that sizzles. Garlic and onion and something herby meet your nose, drawing your bottom lip to pull under your teeth. Or maybe it’s the way Steve stares at the pan with concentration, humming along to the music you only just introduced him to. He stirs the ingredients, forearm flexing as he turns the handle of the pan to the side, knocking the wooden spoon against the lip of metal a few times.

“You cook?” Questioning him quietly from your spot by the door.

Steve looks over his shoulder, a fake frown pulling his lips down that a smile tries to fight. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Not surprised,” you hedge, padding over towards him slowly, “Just…impressed. I don’t know if anyone has cooked for me before.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows bunching together, whatever thoughts swirling inside his brain cut off when you kiss his cheek. Steve blinks at the gesture as you wave your hand over his apartment and ask, “You did all this ‘cause I had a bad day, Harrington?”

Steve’s cheeks turn rosy despite his eye roll and laugh around a mumbled, “It’s just spaghetti.”

“Well,” you smile, noting the simple kiss and its effects for future use. Eager and curious to find out what else you can do and say to get him to blush so you can use it to your advantage, “Big fan of just spaghetti here. Thank you.”

Your wine glass hits the counter with a soft clink as your hand wraps around his bicep and squeezes, smirking as his cheeks turn a deeper pink.

When you face him fully, Steve is already watching you, eyes tracing over your face when his lips twitch up on one side - you pushed it too far and now he’s onto you. This sort of teasing and battle for who can make the other squirm more has been the fire that’s fueled your last few nights together.

Steve leans in slowly, his hand reaching up and cupping your jaw as he does. His thumb traces over the apple of your cheek, his warm breath hits your lips as your eyelashes flutter. Steve’s voice turns gruff and deeper because he knows it works you up as he asks, “You sleeping over tonight?”

Your head shakes despite wanting to nod as his other hand finds your waist. The smell of dinner and Steve’s spice and woodsy cologne making you dizzy as you try to stay steady in your response, “Can’t. Didn’t bring any clothes.”

Steve hums, the sound buzzing into your skin as his nose brushes up yours slowly. His hand on your waist pulls you in closer, wrapping around and pressing his palm to your lower back. His breath out mixes with yours in as your hands move on their own accord, climbing up his chest and to the collar of his shirt. His eyes a dark forest and liquid gold, smoldering as his gaze meets yours.

“I’ll order you clothes for tomorrow.”

The ease and confidence of his promise is enough to make your stomach flip with excitement, but your eyes roll from the absurdity. Your laugh, a mixture of disbelieving and amused, is cut off though when his top lip parts yours. A soft kiss pressed to them that he quickly deepens when he feels you sigh, giving in easily.

Sweet and tender kisses, his thumb and fingers tilt your jaw for him, making butterflies flutter alive inside of you. Steve and you haven’t kissed like this before, you can feel each shift of his fingers on your jaw and back, how his forehead furrows against yours. Mouths that mold to the others easily, slotted together like gears that work with each other instead of against now. You move with the other like second nature, almost lazy, not worried about the end goal for once, enjoying the taste of his whiskey hitting your wine with each pass of tongues and lips meeting. Until his bottom lip catches your top one in a different way, tongue rolling against yours a little dirty, making your thighs push together.

Steve’s breath through his nose hits your cheek and your fingers grip at his collar, tugging him closer to you while his hand on your back pushes you against him harder. Soft kisses no longer, now you’re just desperate. His tongue traces your bottom lip, nipping at it gently before sucking on it. Your hands push up his neck and into his hair, fingers combing through the strands and tugging lightly as he takes a breath. It’s all so easy, the push and pull with each other, learning and using what the other likes. A whimper escapes you as his hands move to cup your face, slowing you both down, until he’s pulling away completely.

Your eyes blink rapidly as you come back to the room, forgetting where you were for a brief moment. As his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, the sight of his eyes taken over by his pupils makes your spine radiate with heat. His fingers curl under your jaw with a firm grip on your chin as he gives you one more chaste peck.

“Stay.”

The word is one you can’t help but chase, turning towards his lips again in search for more. Your kiss meets the corner of his mouth that threatens to smile - you hate that he’s winning.

“Fine. But only because this wine is really good and I intend to drink the whole bottle.”

Steve’s smile kisses your skin, mouth brushing down your neck in a tantalizing graze, the scruff on his face tickling as he moves lower. “Of course. No other reason, I understand.”

He presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear and your eyes practically roll all the way back, toes scrunching against the tile of his kitchen floor as your breath gets caught in your chest. Steve clocks the spot and your reaction, a low rumble from deep in his own chest as he mouths at your neck, returning to his new toy he’s found when you gasp. Wet lips and warm breath pull goosebumps to the surface of your skin, and his nose nudging behind your ear has your entire body on fire.

Your hands push at his shoulders with a nervous laugh, forcing it all to slow down so you can regain some sort of composure and have a chance at beating him at this game.

“Okay, okay, I need a shower. How long till dinner is ready?”

Steve blinks at your words, hand in his hair roughing it up more as he clears his throat and stares down at your body still pressed to his, pretending not to be just as worked up as you are. “Uh, yeah, yes. Like twenty minutes.”

Pressing a quick teasing kiss to his mouth, you start to back away and he follows, hands wrapping around and clasping behind your back with a grin that says nice try.

“Steve,” his name a laugh on your lips as he dips down to your neck again, attacking it with frantic kisses.

“Hmm?” His teeth drag on your earlobe and he smiles against your jaw as you shiver.

“Just…” your words trail off as he starts to suck a bruise into the spot he just found, causing your eyelashes to flutter. His mouth presses another hot and wet kiss to your skin, tongue swirling and soothing the darkening mark. His hands roam up your back as you arch for him.

It’s your turn to blink again as he stops abruptly, giving you a kiss on your nose before spinning you towards his room. “Go shower already, you stink.” He gives your ass a light pat and nudge forward.

Your eye roll is hidden, but your hands press to your cheeks in an effort to calm down as you walk away. You did come here for sex, maybe you can let him win tonight.

Steve’s shower is far nicer than your own. The rain head allows the warm water to flow down your entire body smoothly, and as you let your head fall back into the stream, you wonder about the detachable nozzle and how easily you could convince him to come in here and try something. The steam and calming scent of Steve’s cedar and mint shampoo is enough to unfurl your muscles and soothe your frazzled nerves that his kissing had already started to ease. Because it was the kissing and this game you play that relieved the tension inside of you, not just the company.

The same music in his living room plays from small speakers in his bathroom too, your favorite song coming on not too long after you’ve started the shower, echoing off the dark blue tiles, the ping of water harmonizing with it. A smile twitches on your lips when you hear the added sound of the door creaking open.

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Your palm swipes over the glass door, clearing condensation enough to see Steve. His back is to you as he sets a new glass of wine and a fluffy gray towel on his counter.

“Actually,” he spins, eyes roaming over your naked form he can still catch a glimpse of through the foggy glass. His eyes sparkle as his tongue licks over his top lip, “Just getting your clothes in the washing machine.”

Your shoulders lift to your ears, stomach doing some sort of seesaw thing at the domestic and far too intimate of an act. Your voice is soft and hesitant, almost drowned out by the water, “Steve, you don’t-”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you,” he backs out the open door, pulling it closed as he gestures around the air, “The music. So loud.”

Your eyes roll again, a smile teasing at your lips as the door shuts with a soft click. A furrow forms between your brows though, deepening as you finish your shower. Your lip gnawed between your teeth as you turn the handle off, worrying that maybe you’re getting too comfortable here.

When you step out of the shower and wrap the still warm from the dryer towel - a sweet touch from Steve - around yourself, the smile you were fighting earlier wins. The sight of Steve’s ‘Hi’ and smiley face in the fog on the mirror is too cute of a distraction to listen to any sort of logic.

Stepping out of the bathroom, wine in hand, the smell of garlic now mixes with tomato, slipping in through the cracked bedroom door. Steve’s voice trails in quietly with it, “Hi, mom.”

You freeze, eyes widening in horror as this doesn’t seem like the greatest way to meet a Harrington parent - not that you thought about that, or want to, but as a friend of Steve’s you should probably have more clothes on. Your shoulders relax when you don’t hear a new voice responding, but Steve’s sigh and his voice again, only far less enthusiastic, “Oh, hey dad.”

Evidence of your eavesdropping forms in water dripping down your body and darkening his carpet, so, you pad into Steve’s closet, flicking the light on as you go. It’s not the first time you’ve seen the walk-in, but the sight of it still manages to steal the air out of your lungs a little.

An overwhelming amount of the dark clothing Steve so often wears hangs meticulously in order of style and color. Blues and grays, a few deeper greens you wish he’d wear more, creams, browns, and white, then black. T-shirts then polos then button-downs - simple and nothing that would make anyone take a second glance, but you know from your own fingers that the quality of the material of each item is better than your sheets.

Your fingertips drift lazily over the garments as you take the opportunity to linger in the space a little longer. They meet the hard edge of a dark wood dresser, a suede, gray box sitting atop. It’s compartments holding ties that are perfectly rolled and tucked into their homes. A matching organizer that holds a high school class ring, two watches - one gold and one with a dark and worn, brown leather band - along with a missing spot for the one he’s wearing. You’re certain that if you opened the drawers of this dresser you’d find his underwear and socks of the softest thread count folded and organized just as nicely - not thrown in haphazardly like your own.

As you turn to head back for a plain t-shirt, the bright color tucked into the back corner catches your eye. It’s so different from anything in the room, from anything you’ve seen him wear. Your bare feet sink into the plush rug as you make your way to the part of the closet that looks like it doesn’t belong.

Another small dresser, almost a nightstand, sits over here. You check over your shoulder, Steve’s voice still drifting through the door quietly and you continue inspecting. On top of the dark wood, two CD’s with Robin’s familiar hand-writing listing the songs adorning each disk. A diploma and tassel hanging from the dark frame holding it. Next to that, another framed item, an image of Steve that makes your chest tighten. You don’t think he’s too much younger than he is now in it, a dark blue graduation gown open to reveal jeans and a white button down and black tie, his grad cap squishes down his hair. Steve is shrinking in the picture, cheeks pink and biting his mouth to hide a smile, as Robin and a curly haired boy are both exploding bottles of champagne on opposite sides of him.

Above the nightstand, the clothes are even more unfamiliar. Jeans that, though folded just as nicely as others in the closet, are a lighter wash and look well loved and worn, not like the dark denim with creases you’re used to seeing him in. Several t-shirts with various concert and event logos now fading and peeling, hang in color order again. A few sweatshirts, one with the same green and orange you know matches Robin’s band sweatshirt she says she’ll die in, sit folded next to the jeans. There’s several sweaters hung, but the culprit of your detour stands out the most. Your fingers rest on it, and as you remove it from the hanger, you’re sure something he must not wear anymore fits your needs tonight more than any of his nicer items.

It’s not until you walk back out to the kitchen in the bright yellow sweater and a pair of his sweatpants that you think you potentially overstepped.

Steve stands at the stove, phone pressed to his ear still, the other hovers over the pot, spoon dripping sauce as his mouth falls open. The tips of his ears turn red, matching his cheeks as you fiddle with the hem. His voice faltering into the phone, “Ye-yeah. Yes. I am dad, tonight just wasn’t gonna work.”

He smiles sadly at you, shrugging as he turns his back from the stove, maroon turning to pink on his cheeks. His hand reaches up and runs through his hair as he starts pacing.

“Uh-huh, yeah, but-” Steve’s mouth clamps shut when he’s obviously interrupted on the other end.

You begin stirring the sauce when you see it’s bubbling, Steve squeezes your shoulder as he passes, moving his pacing to the living room. He’s changed as well, down to just the black undershirt and dark gray sweats, the orange and yellow candle light flickers across his jaw as it tightens. He picks up a baseball from the wood buffet, fingers curling around it as his thumb spins it in his palm.

When you glance up, his eyes travel over your body until they meet yours, sighing into the phone as he switches ears again, “Dad, I have to go, can we talk about it a different night?”

His shoulders slump, the baseball returning to the console, rolling across the top until it hits a framed photo. This one of Robin on Steve’s shoulders, pushing his hat down over his face as she tries to climb higher for an apple in a tree.

Steve stares out the balcony glass doors, his voice strained, “I am, dad, I promise, okay? I just need a little time.” He nods once, “Mhm, bye.”

The phone lands on the counter harshly as he returns, his hand reaching for the wine glass you’re already offering to him. He gulps half of it down, not unsimilar to how you did when you first arrived.

“So, that was your dad?” Your eyebrows raise as your gaze remains on the sauce.

“Uh-huh,” he draws it out, sighing again as his forehead falls to your shoulder.

“Can I ask what all that was about?” You question softly.

Steve’s head lifts, suddenly focused on pouring a second glass of wine and refilling the other as he speaks, “You could,” he turns to one of the cabinets, searching for plates, “But it’s complicated and in my opinion, a waste of one of your questions.”

“Oh really?”

Steve spins, wincing as he faces you again and holds up two fingers, “Ooh, that’s two.” He pulls at his collar and raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

“Nice try,” you steal a plate from him and begin dishing up, “Not eating spaghetti topless for you tonight, Harrington.”

“Oh, but you will some other night?” He smirks, standing next to you.

“In your dreams,” you laugh, turning to the stove again.

He sighs, long and big, “Only every night,” your snort is cut off as he keeps going, “But actually, speaking of clothes,” he spoons his own pasta onto his plate, “Went into the depths of mine I see.”

Your fingers fiddle with the hem again, recalling his face when you first came out, mood sobering. “The color caught my eye, I’ve never seen you wear this. I can take if off though, if-”

“No,” he says quickly, with a harsh swallow he adds on quietly, “Looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” dipping your head from the way he looks at you when he says it. Like he really means it and wants to see you in it more than tonight.

Steve leans in, his hands full, so he nudges your temple with his nose until you look up at him. He presses a slower kiss than earlier to your lips, lingering for a moment before clearing his throat and pulling away. He nods his head towards the glass doors “Wanna eat on the balcony? Sunset is soon, and I thought it might be a good ending to the bad day?”

Your chest floods with warmth, something sticky and heavy that makes your mouth unable to work, holding all of your words hostage so all you can do is nod. Steve smiles and heads outside.

“Mint chocolate chip,” he answers immediately, taking a sip of wine.

You’re done with dinner, tucked into his small balcony couch, the sunset has now faded from that early golden glow, tinges of orange and bursts of pink starting to break through the clouds and paint the buildings around you. Steve's legs extend to the small ottoman, yours against his thigh so you can really watch the sky. More than ten questions have been asked, but your clothes are still on, and part of you wants to admit that maybe this is actually what you needed tonight instead of sex. Maybe you just needed to have dinner, talk to a friend, enjoy the sunset. It doesn’t matter that it happened with Steve - the whole point of this was to be friends with benefits, right?

You laugh into your wine glass, “Wow, I so did not peg you as a mint chocolate chip ice cream guy.”

He grabs your ankle, tugging it lightly, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Your shoulders lift in an innocent shrug, “I dunno, you seem kind of vanilla, Steve.”

His eyes narrow and he scoffs, grumbling into his wine glass, “Vanilla. I’ll show you vanilla.”

“What was that?” You grin.

He rolls his eyes and stands, grabbing your empty plates. “I said, more wine?”

“Sure you did,” you nod, faux belief on your face as you hand up your glass as he passes.

After the door latches, you pull the sleeves of his sweater down over your palms, standing and moving closer to the ledge. You’ll always love sunsets, but this view has changed them forever for you. The orange and pinks bleed together now, like two tubes of paint exploded across the sky, a perfect summer sunset. Its shimmering reflections in the lake, river, and buildings around you try to steal your breath too - almost as beautiful as the real thing.

The city below you buzzes with summer nightlife, horns honking and bass thumping as people drive by. One of those Chicago tour boats drifts lazily by and you smirk, remembering the unfortunate yet hilarious story Robin told you about the Dave Matthews bus - so opposite of the moment you’re witnessing now. As the tour passes under the bridge you notice the couple standing in the middle, holding hands. One of them drops lower, and from the way they jump back up and spin around, holding each other, you’re certain you just witnessed a proposal.

Steve’s shoulder presses against yours and you jump, hand over your chest.

“Sorry,” he motions behind him, “Thought you heard the door.”

Your heartbeat rapidly pounding in your chest, you glance back to the bridge, but the happy couple is already gone. Shaking your head, you close your eyes, “No, uh, was distracted I guess.”

He eyes you curiously, fingers brushing down your arm, with a smile, “Alright, you asked me the ice cream question, so my turn.”

He spins, finger in the air when the question comes to him, “Favorite superhero?”

“Spiderman,” your answer just as confident and quick as his ice cream response.

“Interesting,” he rubs at his jaw, “Why?”

Your shoulders shrug as you watch another boat tour go by. The words on the tip of your tongue before your brain fully catches up to them. “Um, I’m not really sure. I guess I always loved that he was kind of alone, but not really. Spiderman was lonely, protecting people he loved who didn’t know he did, but Peter was almost the opposite? He wasn’t ever fully alone despite thinking he was. He was always loved, he was just the one who didn’t see it.”

You don’t realize the power of your answer until it leaves your lips. A small piece of weight you carry lifting easily for Steve like it’s nothing. It’s almost immediate that you wish you hadn’t answered.

Steve smiles sadly at you, his fingers pushing against the railing and bumping yours as he speaks softly, “That’s a good reason, sounds like you relate to it?”

Your cheek pulls in and you shrug again, clearing your throat and ignoring his prodding. “What about you? Got a favorite superhero?”

Lately, whatever question either of you had come up with ended up being answered by both of you, the conversation flowing that way naturally, so your sidestep of his followup questions isn’t completely out of the ordinary.

Steve’s hazel eyes bounce between yours, and you know he wants to push it further, to get you talking more, but he doesn’t. He stands up straighter and nods, “Definitely Batman.”

You groan and laugh, shaking your head as he puts his hands on his hips and asks, “What?”

“You would like Batman. He’s not even a real superhero, he’s just rich. He has no powers.”

He points his finger in the air, “First of all, you’re wrong. Second, pretty sure some of the Spiderman comics it’s like the exact same fucking thing, so. And third, I have a good reason why I like him so,” he sticks out his tongue at you.

Your hands fall out, palms facing upward expectantly and he rolls his eyes, ripping at the skin on thumb. “I, well. I think him being an orphan is interesting. I like that he’s seen as a guardian. I don’t know, a lot of reasons…” his voice trails off as a furrow forms between his brows.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” You nudge his shoulder, grabbing the wine from him and taking a sip. Both of you touching a sensitive spot in each other with something as simple as superheroes.

He smiles and nods, eyes focused on the House of Blues lighting up below you.

Your own eyes watch the pink take over the orange in the sky as you drum your hands on the railing, risking a more serious question despite the mood. “I saw that picture, in your closet? Was that a college graduation? It seemed recent?”

Steve blows his breath out, sipping the wine he takes back from you, sharing the same glass as he nods. He clasps his hands together after you steal it back and stares out at the lake. “Yeah, uh, I didn’t get in, back when Robs went. But,” he licks his lips and squints, “I dunno, got this job from my dad’s connections and I just…wanted to see if I could do it alone? So I did. Sports management. Not a big deal.”

Your hand reaches out to his forearm and squeezes gently. “Steve, that is a big deal. That’s really great.”

He hums and shrugs and you press it even further, “So your parents don’t know? And your job now, that’s not-”

He laughs and drags his hands down his face, “Really, it’s not a big deal, I shouldn’t have even printed that photo. And, and the job, I don’t know. There’s this opportunity this one guy at work told me about, but my parents…” he sighs and his shoulders drop. “No, they don’t know. And my job is great. I don’t need to do anything else.”

You turn and set the wine down, your fingers wrap around his wrist. “Steve, you should have a job you love. Screw your parents or anyone who tells you differently. There’s always a way to figure it out if you want it badly enough. And, it is a big deal. I didn’t finish college. It’s a really cool and amazing thing, you should be really proud about it.”

Steve smiles, tapping the railing, speaking softly, “Thank you.” He turns to face you, hand brushing up your arm to your shoulder. “I didn’t know that about you. The college stuff I mean.”

Stepping closer to him, you shrug. “It’s not like I introduce myself and tell people that, Steve.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” He takes a step closer too, closing the distance completely so your bodies press together. He smiles, tone lightening the mood, “I’d take off my pants in honor of the information, but I don’t have underwear on and we’re sort of exposed out here.”

Your eyes roll again as your lips fight a smile. He leans in closer, nose bumping yours as you whisper, “Wow. What a slut.”

He smirks. “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”

Your breath catches in your chest at the quote, his lips pressing to yours softly before you ask, “Wh-what did you say?”

His cheeks turn pink like earlier and he clears his throat, “Uh, I meant like, takes one to know one. Like a slut.” His eyes close and he holds up his hands, “Not that you’re a slut, what I meant was that, see…like in a good way.”

Your heartbeat starts to return to normal and you shake your head, ignoring the connection the quote made inside of you. Interrupting his Robin-like rambling and hoping to get the original plan for the evening back on track with a kiss.

Steves reciprocates quickly, tongue licking at the seam of your lips as you open up for him. Something about the gestures he’s made to fix your bad day tonight, the conversation you just had, has you more desperate than you were originally when you came over tonight. It’s all too complicated and jumbled now, and you just need your brain to turn off, and sex is the way to do that.

His hand cups your jaw, opening you wider for him as he presses you back into the stone barrier between apartments. He rolls his hips against you, pushing harder when your hands wrap around his neck. Your clasped hands hold yourself up as his hand reaches for your thigh, pulling it up and around his waist, fingernails dragging back up and cupping your ass. Your hands move down his back as he slows his kissing again, teasing his tongue against your top lip. Nails scratch through his shirt as he moves his assault to your neck. Your body pulses around him as the sun sinks lower behind you. Steve holds your chin with his fingers as he says, “Turn around, pretty girl, you’re missing the sunset.”

Your eyes blink wide and slow at his words as he removes your leg from his waist, spinning you towards the railing. The rapid beat of your heart returns as his hands rest on either side of your body and he presses his easily felt erection into your backside.

Steve’s nose brushes up the back of your neck, his mouth kissing across your skin till he meets your ear. His fingers glide across the band of the sweats, curling around your hip until he pushes under the fabric.

He huffs into your skin, kissing that spot on your jaw again as two of his fingers push past your clit, slipping over it easily. “Who’s the slut for not wearing underwear, again?”

“Steve,” you whine, not patient for this sort of teasing anymore.

He kisses down your neck, fingers parting through your slick as he glides up then lower again, the faintest graze to your clit and barely a nudge to your entrance. He tuts into your shoulder, mocking pity in his tone, the cocky man returning easily when he knows you’re this turned on, “Oh, I know. You just had such a bad day. Really need this, yeah?”

You can’t argue with him, fingers curling on the lip of the ledge, stepping closer to it. You’re sure he can feel you gushing around his fingers from just his words, how much his kissing worked you up, but you don’t care. You don’t want to fight it anymore, maybe Steve is worth just giving into.

“Ye-yes,” you gasp out as he rewards you with figure eights pressed into your clit, your eyelashes fluttering as your knees start to buckle. “Oh, fuck.”

Steve’s breath hitches at your affirmation, kissing over your neck as he increases the strength of each press. A slow, generous circle with the pads of his fingers, rolling over the bead of vibrating nerves with an agonizing and precise pressure and pace.

“Tell me,” he kisses down your jaw, groaning at the roll of your hips back into him. Another press of his lips to your temple as his fingers circle your entrance, “Tell me what you want.”

Your head turns, chasing his kiss, catching his bottom lip with another gasp as he pushes one finger inside of you and curls, “Y-you. I need you. Please.”

Steve and your lips push and pull against each other in a battle now, harsh breaths shared as he nods, agreeing to give you what you want. He slides a second digit inside of you and curls to the spot he finds every time and you shake your head no against his mouth - that’s not what you meant.

He moans, pressing his body up behind yours harder, back to kissing over your jaw and neck before he’s breathing in your ear. Voice raspy - dirty and filthy and everything you want as he asks, “Oh, not good enough? Jus-Just need me to fuck the bad day out of you?”

“Please,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed at the loss of his fingers slipping out of you, “Fuck me.”

Steve’s forehead hits between your shoulder blades, wide hands pushing at fabric, and you stand on your toes, anticipation radiating throughout your body when you feel his bare length against your folds - sure you have your rules, but breaking them for one night is at the bottom of your list of thing to think about currently. He moves one of your hands to the front of your sweatpants in a silent command to hold them up. Steve nudges at your entrance, your lip tugged between your teeth unable to suppress another whine as he pushes inside slowly. His voice barely audible even in your ear, his breath too fast and too hard, overtaking his words, “Need you to be quiet, honey.”

Your head falls forward, mouth opening in a gasp as he thrusts into you. He stops, a shaky breath leaving him as you both adjust to him filling you up, relishing in the missed feeling of your bodies being connected like this. Patience wears thin though, and you push back against him, your hand gripping the balcony barrier as your eyelashes flutter when he twitches from the movement inside of you. Steve’s hands rest on your waist, holding you steady as he draws out of you, thrusting back up.

He sets a slow pace, a dirty roll of his hips every few thrusts in and your toes curl against the balcony floor, head falling forward as you struggle not to make a sound. Steve’s mouth drags on your skin, from under one ear to the other, one hand caressing over your curves, shirt rising slightly as he ventures higher. Wide palm cupping one breast as his other holds your hip in a bruising grip.

“Steve, harder.” Your hand reaches back behind you, yanking on his hair with a whine. Steve pushes you both into the ledge, a growl slipping past his lips.

Steve’s thrusts pick up their pace and he breathes into your ear, a desperate and primal sound that’s more intimate and better than any sort of moan a man has ever made for you before, your name mingling with quick and short gasps for air.

Your head falls back against his shoulder as his hand moves from your chest down your stomach, pushing his way past your hand roughly, sweatpants dropping and neither of you caring. Your cry is muffled into his sweat slicked neck as he goes even faster, feeling like he’s so deep you’ll feel it the rest of your life, his fingers press frantic circles to your swollen clit.

“Fu-fuck, fuck, fuck,” you bite at his shirt collar, both of your hands above you in his hair, stretching onto your toes again, chasing and running away from the feeling about to bubble over.

Every nerve ending inside of you is coiled, at its breaking point - ready to crack. Steve’s hand that’s on your waist lifts, grabbing at your chin, and pulling you towards his mouth as he snaps his hips faster, stuttering their movements as he keeps working at your clit.

Warmth floods your stomach, eyes pressed tight, oranges and pinks from the sunset bursting behind your closed lids as you bite down on his lip, everything inside of you exploding as you release around him.

“St-Steve!”

His lips press to yours harsher, trying to silent you as he doesn’t stop his movements. Steve grunts into your mouth, cursing under his breath as his hips go even faster before they falter. His teeth drag across your bottom lip as he finally lets go, his release sending another wave of your orgasm crashing over your body. Stars blink behind your eyelids, breathless as you come back to earth.

Both of you gasp around each other’s lips as your body tightens then relaxes around him, his hand finally stops its circles to your overwhelmed nerves when you push him away. Sounds of the city return to your ears as your head falls back against his shoulder. Steve’s hands on your waist squeeze as he breathes heavily against your shoulder before kissing it. Both of you wince as he slips out of you.

He clears his throat as each of you pull your sweats up, his cheeks pink and yours hot. Turning to face him, your back hits the ledge as his hands fall to your sides and cage you in again.

Steve’s face is lit up orange and gold, eyes shimmering. They’re the color of honey and brown sugar in this fading sunlight, looking at you with a gaze that’s just as gooey as he leans in with a smile. Whispering as he hovers above your lips, “Still having a bad day?”

That same sticky feeling coats your chest as you shake your head no, both of you still breathing heavily. His top lip just skims your bottom one when loudly, from a nearby balcony, the clip from ‘When Harry Met Sally’ plays:

“I’ll have what she’s having!”

Your hand slaps over your mouth and Steve snorts, both of you dissolving into laughter as you rush back inside.

Your body heats with embarrassment, hands on your cheeks, “Oh my god.”

Steve doesn’t seem as phased, walking further into the apartment. “Hey, that’s a good movie, wanna watch it?” He laughs, running his hand through his hair.

Any mortification forgotten at his suggestion. You spin, finger in his face, “Aha! Bad 90s romcom, told you I could smell it on you.”

He waves you off, heading toward his bedroom, “Yeah, yeah, go make some popcorn miss can’t keep her mouth shut!”

“Me!” You scoff, following him, “Um, what was all that grunting! And breathing and-”

He cuts you off with a slow and deep kiss. Tongue flicking over yours dirty and rough, pulling away with a sharp inhale. “Tell me you didn’t like it.”

His words freeze you, and you stand together in his apartment, lit only by candlelight and the sunset that’s dipped below your eye line. Breaths mixing, bodies pressed together and Steve kisses the spot below your ear - one slow, sweet kiss that lingers before he pulls away.

He smirks at your dazed expression, calling over his shoulder, “Your favorite movie snack is in the cupboard!” Disappearing into his bathroom.

It’s just sex, that’s all this is.

That’s what you tell yourself as your legs turn from jelly to some sort of working limb as you make the popcorn.

That’s what you tell yourself as he settles in next to you on his couch, tossing the yellow knit blanket from Robin over your laps.

That’s what you tell yourself in the morning, when he’s in the shower and a delivery comes with clothes that fit you perfectly.

It’s just sex. Fun. That’s all this is.

That’s what you tell yourself as you slip on a brand new pair of heels and he kisses your forehead, reminding you with a wink that his balcony is always open after a bad day.

WCIL taglist: @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii

#steve harrington #modern!steve harrington #modern!steve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

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noxemma · 1 month

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Chapter two for my Hot Summer Art fic is up!

I might actually get to posting all of these before the end of the month if I can keep up this pace 😂

Tags, Rating, Word Count, AO3 link, etc. at the bottom

Beside Your Side

Fic Summary: Dean convinces Sam to look into a potential case where people are going missing from a New Jersey beach town. Of course, they have to bring Cas and Eileen along, just in case it's not a monster. Dean is excited to get the case over quickly and enjoy a well-earned vacation with the people he loves the most. Nothing ever seems to go the way Dean plans it though, and this case is no exception.

Chapter 2: Nothing Wrong with Floral

Dean

Dean starts to relax and enjoy himself as Baby cruises through the downtown area. The windows are down, his rock mix is blasting, and Cas in his old AC/DC shirt leaning toward the open window with the sun on his face looking gorgeous.

I guess I should have expected he wouldn’t have much in the way of casual clothes. It’s not like we’ve ever taken a vacation before, and his standard suit and trench coat usually suffice for any government position we impersonate.

Dean glances over at Cas again and tries to ignore the way his heart feels like it’s been replaced with warm goo. Cas is resplendent in the early evening glow, the light emphasizing his high cheekbones and contrasting against the scruff that’s grown over the last few days. Sunbeams and wind play through his hair and Dean can see the glint of grey that’s started to sprout ever since he’s become nearly human.

God, it only makes him more attractive though, Dean thinks, running a hand through his own hair self-consciously. Don’t know if I quite pull it off the way that he does.

“Dean?”

Dean suddenly finds blue eyes staring back at him quizzically. One brow arches and Dean gulps at the way his stomach tries to take up residence in his throat.

“Wha-what?”

“I believe a green light indicates that it is your turn to go, correct?” Cas snarks and Dean is so tempted to lean in and kiss the smile off his face.

Thankfully a car horn saves him from himself, prompting him to hit the gas and speed through the intersection. Cas goes back to enjoying the sun and Dean resolutely focuses on finding a parking space near the address Sam gave him. He ends up getting lucky with a spot in the shade and they don’t even have to walk that far to the pretty townhouse belonging to Bradley's sister. Cas stops Dean just before he knocks on the door.

“Dean, are you sure I shouldn’t just wait in the car? I was pretty useless at this the last time I tried to help, and I can’t imagine I’ve gotten much better. I don't have 'people skills' like you and Sam." Cas actually uses air quotes, but the insecurity in his voice sucks all the humor out of the idiosyncrasy.

“You weren’t useless, you were just … awkward. You were trying to be too much like me and Sam; do it exactly how we do it. Just be yourself and I’m sure you’ll be alright.” Dean winks at him, immediately regrets the action when Cas’ brows pinch together, and spins around to knock on the door before he can stick his foot further into his mouth.

The door swings inward to reveal an attractive woman in her mid-twenties.

“Um, can I help you?” The woman crosses her arms and stares defiantly as if she can’t think of any greater inconvenience than two strangers showing up on her doorstep. “Hello, I'm Dean and this is Castiel,” Dean introduces them, completely unfazed by her attitude and laying on the charm thick. “We’re podcasters and we were hoping to interview you for an episode on-"

“You two, podcasters? Yeah, sure and I’m a mermaid on the full moon. Get off my porch before I call the cops,” she rolls her eyes and retreats into the house.

“Wait, please,” Cas calls out before she can fully slam the door. When she opens the door a few inches, he steps in front of Dean to address her. “I apologize for him. He doesn’t think people will talk to us if we tell them the truth. You see, we’re both actually really into true crime and missing people. It all started when his father went missing, and it’s become somewhat of a hobby and an obsession since then. Helping others find their loved ones gives him a bit of the closure he never got.”

Dean’s pretty sure his jaw is on the floor, and it stays there as the woman eyes them up and down before sighing and opening the door fully.

“Ugh, fine. Come in. You get three minutes.”

“Thank you,” Cas responds graciously, leaving Dean standing dumbstruck on the porch.

“God, I’m such a sucker for sad blue eyes,” the woman says to Cas’ retreating form. She turns a calculating gaze onto Dean, eyeing him up and down before carefully saying, “Your boyfriend gets you to do whatever he wants with those things, doesn’t he?”

What? He’s not actually-,” Dean stops himself because it feels like a trap. Plus, he doesn’t want this woman to know that Cas isn’t actually dating him. Not when she’s staring at his backside appreciatively. “Uh, yeah, but don’t tell him that. I don’t think he’s figured out what a sucker I am yet.”

Like what you read? You can find the rest of the chapter here on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 2/? (hopefully 9 😂)

Chapter Word Count: ~8,400

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Beach Case, Cannon when convenient, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (Dean and background characters), Non-Consensual Touching (Not between Dean and Cas), Hurt/Comfort, I promise it's not as dark as it sounds, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, clueless Sam Winchester, Chick-Flick Moments, Cannon typical misunderstandings, Angst?, One day I'll learn how to tag, WIP, JackieDeeArt's Hot Summer Art 2024 (Supernatural), Hot Summer Art, Greek Mythology if you Squint, No Beta, Everyone is bad with words, Except Eileen who is the only emotionally stable person for miles, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Angel Grace Dysfunction

#hotsummerart #destiel fic #spn #sassy Cas #jealous Dean #dressing room shenanigans #fluff #pining #destiel #mutual pining #beach fic #case fic #supernatural #deancas #dean winchester #fanfiction #castiel

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starstruckkittensweets · 2 years

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Ok you know the scene in Howl’s Moving Castle where Howl helps Sophie walk on air? Now imagine that but with Hawks.

You’re still nervous about flying with him, too scared to keep your eyes open whenever he takes you in his arms and spreads his wings. But one night he catches you off guard and swoops you into the air with a gust of wind, a scream bubbling in your throat as your knees press into your chest.

“It’s alright,” he laughs, gloved hands caressing your wrists, “one step at a time. I got you, birdie. I’d never let you fall.”

Maybe it’s the lopsided smile he gives you, maybe it’s the mischievous glint in his golden eyes—or maybe it’s the fact you’re so lightheaded you can barely think straight. But something makes you want to believe him, to put your trust in him and let him take care of you.

I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, this is the end—

You stretch your leg out, and a little bundle of red swoops down to catch you as you land. Three or four feathers, carrying you as though you’re as light as a leaf in the quiet autumn chill. You step down with your other foot, relieved when another bundle of feathers comes to save you from falling into the city streets below.

“See? I told you you could do it!” His breath his warm against your ear, the scruff of his chin soft against your temple. “You’re a natural.”

It’s hard to laugh with him when he steals the breath from your lungs, when he presses a soft kiss to the apple of your cheek as you take another step. His wings are beating at a steady pace, gentle and soft as he holds you in his grasp.

“You’re doing great, birdie.” Another kiss, this time on the corner of your mouth. “Just like that, one step at a time.”

It’s a new kind of fear that seizes your chest—not of plummeting down to the pavement below or the misty clouds that gather around your head.

But falling deeper into those beautiful golden eyes, and wondering if he really means it when he promises to never let you go.

#feeling a little soft for hawks right now #also I just finished rewatching howl’s moving castle and an idea struck #don’t be too harsh I wrote this at quarter to two in the morning #so I might be a little rusty #hawks #keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks drabble

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whispermask · 2 years

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twitter was talkin about soap's obsession with cock sucking and--

(nsfw text under the cut)

Ghost has a problem and that problem is MacTavish’s oral fixation.

Boy’s always got a pen hanging out the side of his mouth, biting at his nails, touching his lips and he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it but Ghost seriously can’t look away whenever Soap has anything even remotely phallic near his mouth and it’s driving Ghost mad. Ghost thinks maybe Soap knows he’s being watched, starts pandering specifically to Ghost’s obsession with his mouth.

It’s the warmest day of the year when it all comes to a head. They’re on base between one op and the next and it’s hotter than it has any right to be, so much so that even Ghost has stripped down to cargo pants and a thin shirt, still sweltering stubbornly under his mask. Soap, instigator of all instigators, isn’t faring much better. To cope with the heat, he’s wearing a tank top and tiny shorts, miles of bare skin like gold slick with a fine sheen of sweat under the sweltering sun. It’s too hot to be alive, is what it is. And Gaz, bless him, buys ice cream for everyone. A sweet man, really, except that he’s bought popsicles.

Almost as soon as Ghost sees the box, his gaze flickers to Soap, who’s already looking back with an absolutely wicked glint in his eyes. Which is how Ghost ends up white knuckling the armrest while Soap practically felates a popsicle not even three feet from him, close enough that Ghost can hear all the wet, sucking noises his mouth makes as the ring of his lips slides up and down the shaft–and really, is he down that bad that he can’t look at a popsicle in Soap’s mouth and see anything other than a red, aching cock?–his eyes close and he moans. A low, desperate sound that starts in the back of his throat and ends with a slick pop as he pulls the popsicle back out. “Wow, Gaz,” Soap says, “it feels so good on my tongue.” And Ghost can’t fucking do this. He’s done, he’s absolutely had enough.

He stands too quickly, scruffs MacTavish, and hauls him out behind the mess hall. Despite the late hour, it’s still too damn hot, but with the sun fully set it’s no longer sweltering.

“What the fuck are you doing, Johnny?” Ghost asks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Soap replies, always such a brat. The light from a far off building glints off Soap’s cherry-tinted, spit-slicked lips and Ghost is thumbing away the moisture without realizing he’s even moved.

He’s practically cupping Johnny’s face and it seems only logical to lift his mask and press his mouth against Soap’s cold one. Soap tastes sweet, sure, but underneath that is something so undeniably Soap that it turns the kiss from innocent to indecent in seconds.

Soap clenches Ghost’s shirt in his hand and hauls him forward until he’s backing Soap up against the brick wall with a forearm braced above Soap’s head for balance. He presses the huge line of his body against Soap’s, grips his bare biceps in both hands, holds on for dear life. Soap breaks the kiss, gasping for air, eyes still clenched tight when Ghost pulls away to give him some space.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while,” Soap finally says.

“Is that why you’ve made it your mission in life to tease me until my prick falls off?” Ghost asks, overly fond.

“You loved it,” Soap replies. “The real question is, what are we going to do about it now?” And like that, Soap’s reversed their positions so that Ghost is backed up against the wall.

He slides to his knees in a fluid motion, and Ghost knows it must hurt,

that the concrete digging into his skin and pressing against the bone there is likely uncomfortable, that Soap doesn’t care because he’s been just as eager to get his mouth on Ghost as Ghost has been to feel it on him.

Soap doesn’t bother to strip him down more than is necessary to free his cock; it’s dark, but someone walking by on the main road could hear them, could even amble around the corner to see where Soap is kissing the head of Ghost’s cock, using his tongue to trace the underside of the sensitive crown, stabs the sharp end of it into his slit to lick up his pre-come.

“Fucking hell, Johnny,” Ghost says, because of course, it’s always like this with Soap, always better than he’s ever had, too damn good for him every time.

Ghost grows impatient. He fists Soap’s hair in one hand and pinches the hinge of his jaw open with the thumb of his other. The ‘O’ of his mouth is obscene even in the low light. Ghost slicks the head of his cock against Soap’s bottom lip, pushes in until just the tip sits on his tongue.

Soap keeps his mouth open for it, forever an exhibitionist, because he wants Ghost to watch him, always, but especially now when this has been building for too long, when it’s been ages since the last time they got to touch like this.

Motivated by that thought, Ghost thrusts forward by centimeters, giving Soap time to adjust, to breathe through his nose, until Soap’s taken him down the root. Soap’s face in pleasure, especially this specific act, is something Ghost will never tire of.

He’s rapturous as Ghost begins to pull back, then thrusts back in, the slide of Soap’s lips torturously tight and hot. He stares up at Ghost as best he can when his eyes aren’t rolling back on a particularly sharp thrust in, gaze worshipful, like there’s truly nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing than blowing Ghost. He keeps making these sweet little grunts as Ghost moves, the volume and pitch increasing as Ghost speeds up.

Drool drips down his chin, slicks the entirety of Ghost’s shaft so it’s nothing but a smooth, hot slide in, in, in. Soap likes it messy, and Ghost is happy to oblige him, to fuck the spit from his mouth, to make him choke and gag on it until his face goes red from lack of oxygen.

He sees Soap’s shoulder moving rapidly, jerking his cock off as he sucks Ghost off. “That’s right Johnny, fucking take it,” Ghost says, voice gone throaty. He can feel his orgasm building from his toes to the base of his spine.

“Keep touching yourself. I want you to come while you’re choking on my prick.” And that’s all she wrote for Soap, who comes in his hand and onto the concrete at Ghost’s feet. This is Ghost’s favorite part, how pliant Soap gets after he comes.

Ghost braces his feet and grips Soap’s head in both hands, uses his mouth like a fucktoy, slides it up and down his cock until he’s coming too, shooting his load down Soap’s throat, letting him taste the last few spurts as he pulls out and finishes coming on his pretty, pink lips. Ghost gathers himself, then gathers Soap from the concrete, using a hand on Soap’s elbow to help him stand.

In the lowlight, Ghost can see that Soap’s knees are pinpricked and bloodied. “Remind me to tell Gaz to go fuck himself,” Ghost says and Soap laughs. “Pretty sure you should be saying ‘Thank you’ Lt.,” Soap replies. It’s still too damn hot.

#soapghost #mw2 #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #mw2 soap #mw2 ghost #cod ghost #cod soap #ghostsoap #ghoap #macley #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 fic #soapghost fic #cod

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dumblilb · 2 years

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Screw Up *ೃ༄

Kurt Cobain x reader

(He thinks he messed up a performance and you reassure him he’s perfect)

(Warnings: cursing, angst, depression, dark feelings, fluff at the end)

(Words: 701)

*ೃ༄ ࿐ *ೃ༄ ࿐ *ೃ༄ ࿐

I could tell the second the show had ended he wasn’t happy. You could see the glint in his eyes die out as he finished the song. As he got off the stage he didn’t reach for my hands as he usually does.

We get into the van krist sitting in the passenger seat as I sat in between Kurt and Dave. Kurt turned slightly away from us hiding his his face in his hair.

We pull up and head into the small room we are sharing during this stop on tour.

The almost indecifrabile sound of his whimpers are heard as he opens the door and shuts it behind him.

“He’s not doing well is he.” Krist sighs.

“We should check on him.” Dave says about to reach for the door handle.

“No, he needs a minute.” I say stopping him.

“But y/n…”

“Just let me handle it and I’ll pay for your weed addiction this week.” I say and they raise an eyebrow to each other.

“Okay fine we’re gonna go grab a pizza, we’ll be back.” Krist says and they walk back out. I take a deep breath and reach for the handle.

“Kurt…..? Are you okay?” I say and he looks up from his lap. His slouched posture straightening at the sound of my voice.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine.” He chokes out running a hand over his face. I sigh and sit down next to him on the bed.

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know that right?”

“Yeah I guess, it’s just…. I fucked it up and I feel bad. Like it was the last song of the night and I fucking messed up.” He says with a weak voice as he leans his head on my shoulder. The light scruff on his face itching my skin.

But it didn’t matter.

The way his soft blue eyes fluttered in an almost sleepy manner as he nestled into me made everything feel like maybe it’ll be okay.

“I didn’t even notice, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Yeah a little, I guess, I just feel like recently I can’t do anything right.” He says softly yawning.

“I’ll never understand why you feel this way about yourself. You are the most beautiful, talented and kind man I have ever met. I wish you could see yourself the way I do.” I whisper realizing the silence in the room made everything feel so loud.

I turned towards him as he lifted his head from my shoulder, resting it on my forehead. His lips quivering as his eyes well up.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He sobs. His hands ending up in his hair, till I grab them in mine, and rub them softly.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” I reassure, letting him let it out for a little bit. He leans into my chest as I hold him tightly.

“Do you ever wish you could escape. Like just be completely happy for a day. I never know if I’m happy.”

“You know how I know when I’m happy?”

“How?”

“When I’m with you. I always know I’ll be okay when I’m with you.” I smile softly to him and I feel him lean into me more.

“I feel okay when I’m with you.” He whispers, and as it gets farther into the morning he drifts asleep. My fingers raking through his hair as he dreams in my arms.

The guys came back to the room later that night pigging out on pizza as we slept.

As the sun shines through the dingy curtains, and the once heavy feeling on my chest is gone, I open my eyes and look up to see Kurt. Sitting with bed head, holding a journal and pen. He was humming a melody I had never heard before as he scribbled words down.

“What are you writing, can I hear it?” I ask softly as the boys snore loudly on the other bed. He looks over to me with a soft smile.

“Not now, this is for another day.”

“Can I ask what it’s about?”

“You.” He grins. “You make me feel less dumb.”

#Spotify #kurt cobain #nirvana #dave grohl #kurt cobain x reader #nirvana x reader #dumb #dumb nirvana

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bladesandbhaalspawn · 2 months

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The Great Raccoon Chase

A Halsin x Tav Ficlet

for @maul-of-shame

Pairing: Halsin x Tav (Eilis, she/her, half-elf, ranger)

Words: <1k

Rating: G

Summary: A furry fiend rampages through Greenhollow; Eilis and Halsin work together to wrangle the raccoon back into nature.

want your own? check out this post!

"Someone catch that raccoon!" a villager shouted, wielding a broom with desperate zeal. Another followed suit, brandishing a wooden spoon as if it were a sword.

Eilis' eyes widened as she finally spotted the source of the chaos: a small, furry rascal with a mischievous glint in its beady eyes, zooming around the village square, shattering the peace of the little village of Greenhollow. It had managed to scale a stack of flour bags, leaving a trail of white dust in its wake - as well as a cacophony of panicked screams and the clatter of falling metal pots.

"Sorry, my heart, the tour will have to wait," the ranger told her partner, eyes never leaving her target, body preparing to pounce.

Halsin raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle a chuckle. "I take it that's not part of the usual village routine?"

"You'd be surprised," Eilis said, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. "That little rascal has been pilfering food from every vendor it can find. The day before you arrived, I swear I was just about to catch it when it decided to put on a show and run right through town."

With that, Eilis sprang into action, her practical braid bouncing with every step. She darted around the market, weaving between villagers and overturned carts. The raccoon, now perched triumphantly atop a loaf of bread, was clearly enjoying the chaos it was creating.

"My heart, watch out!" Halsin called as the raccoon leaped from the bread onto a tower of oranges, sending citrus flying in every direction. Eilis, determined not to let the creature escape, skidded to a halt, narrowly avoiding a shower of orange pulp.

"Not today, you furry fiend!" the ranger shouted, diving forward. The raccoon, sensing the hunt, scrambled up a nearby vegetable cart, scattering potatoes like confetti.

As Eilis managed to corner the raccoon next to a cart of cabbages, the creature made a final, dramatic leap. It landed directly on Eilis' shoulder, clutching a half-eaten carrot as if it were a trophy.

The villagers erupted in laughter and applause, clearly entertained by the sight of Eilis, her face smeared with flour and a carrot-clutching raccoon on her shoulder. Halsin arrived just in time to see Eilis' surprised but triumphant expression.

"Need a hand?" Halsin offered, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Only if you can wrestle this little troublemaker off me without getting turned into a snack," Eilis replied, trying to keep her tone light despite the raccoon's determined nibbling right by her earlobe.

Halsin, with practiced ease, murmured soft words and coaxed the raccoon into his arms, fingers deftly grabbing the fiend by its scruff. "How's that for teamwork?" he said, his voice full of affection.

Eilis sighed in relief, leaning against him as she caught her breath. "I don't think I've ever had such a chaotic afternoon, and I've had an illithid tadpole in my brain. Thank you for the assist, my love."

Halsin chuckled softly, wrapping his free arm around her waist. "Always, my heart. Though I must admit, this wasn't quite the welcome I was expecting when I came to visit you in this new part of Faerûn," he teased. "I do hope dropping off this little rascal back in nature will grant us a moment of peace."

Eilis gave him a playful nudge. "I wouldn't bet on it. With me around, life's never dull." She grinned up at the druid, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

As they left the village behind, the little raccoon still happily munching away on its carrot, Halsin and Eilis headed back into the lush wilderness where they both felt most at ease. Their laughter echoed through the trees, a reminder that amidst all the chaos, they always had each other.

#bg3 #halsin x tav #tav x halsin #bg3 ficlets #kat writes

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reigningqueenofwords · 5 months

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Tonight Looks Good On You

Pairing: John x Reader Word count: 1,160

Read on AO3

John watched as you stood in your favorite sundress, barefeet resting on the soft carpet of your shared bedroom. You looked over at him and blushed. “This?” You did a small turn for him. “Or jeans?” He was taking you out for your three year wedding anniversary while the boys watched your six month old daughter. You were still worried about the little pooch on your lower stomach, which he couldn’t see why.

He got up and smiled, enjoying the way the light of the sunset hit your hair, which was left down. “You look damn good either way, sweetheart.” He smiled before standing behind you. You giggled when he kissed your shoulder, his scruff tickling you. “How about the dress for tonight? I know how much you miss getting all dolled up.” John kissed your cheek and patted your backside with a chuckle before walking away.

The doorbell had rang, letting you know that Sam and Dean were there. They fought over who would get to watch her, and this was the solution. They both adored their baby sister to bits, and you had no arguments.

You ain’t got a dress that I don’t like You ain’t got a pair of jeans that don’t fit you just right There’s not a minute in the day That you don’t knock me out, you don’t blow me away But, girl, now that the sun’s gone down (whoa-oh-oh) Looking at you right here and now, baby

You were on the dock of a dinner cruise, a slight breeze moving your hair. His brown eyes barely left you as you sipped your wine. “God damn.” He grinned.

“What?” You asked, setting your glass down.

“Tonight looks good on you.” He reached over, taking your left hand in his right, his thumb brushing your wedding band. “Way the moonlight hits your Y/E/C eyes, the way it bounces off your hair…” John said quietly.

Somethin’ ‘bout that southern sky Sittin’ back behind that moon It goes perfect with your eyes Girl tonight looks good on you Somethin’ ‘bout the way you’re smiling Makin’ them stars fall right on cue I just gotta tell you baby Tonight looks good on you

His arm was around your waist, his left hand gently hold your right as you swayed together. There was no music, only him humming your wedding song. Smiling up at him, you thought he was the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on. John had led you to the Impala after you left the ship, and drove you to the lake that he’d proposed at. Your feet enjoyed the touch of the cool grass against your skin, the wind having picked up.

John kissed you lovingly, smiling when he tasted your wine from dinner. He made you laugh when he lifted you up, swinging you around once. Your laughter was music to his ears. His face lit up at the sound, his heart falling more in love with you- his wife, his best friend, and the mother of his daughter. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

I can taste the midnight on your lip Makes me just wanna lean in for another kiss Wind blowing your hair around Girl, it makes me want to lay you down You’ve been beautiful a million times But I’ve never seen you look like this, no

Your head was on his chest, his fingers gently moving up and down your arm as you listened to his heartbeat. Your eyes were closed, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. The softness of the blanket beneath the two of you, the heat of his skin against yours, and the slight chill from the wind was the perfect combination for you.

Shifting so that you were on your stomach, you smiled up at him. “What?” He chuckled when his eyes opened and looked down at you with a glint of amusement.

“Just admiring the view, that’s all.” You bit your lip at him.

He laughed. “A naked old man. That’s a sight, huh?”

You shoved him playfully. “You’re not old.” You kissed his arm.

John rolled to his side and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “I need to bring you out more often.” He told you. “You look good all the time, but fuck does the moonlight make you glow.”

Somethin’ 'bout that southern sky Sittin’ back behind that moon It goes perfect with your eyes Girl tonight looks good on you Somethin’ 'bout the way you’re smiling Makin’ them stars fall right on cue I just gotta tell you baby Tonight looks good on you

Zipping up your dress, he took his time, not wanting to cover your skin just yet. You held your hair off to the side, your head tilted slightly. A soft sigh escaped your lips as he kissed your neck. “Tonight looks good on you.” He breathed, a blush rising over your cheeks.

You turned, pulling him into a soft kiss. “Let’s get home and cuddle our daughter.” You loved how his face lit up hearing that. “Now that looks good on you.” You grinned, lacing your fingers with his. Your heels were held in your other hand, letting your feet enjoy the freedom.

Looks so good on your skin I don’t ever, no, I never, I don’t ever, ever want to end, baby

After you got home, you went straight upstairs to change. The fabric of your dress pooled at your feet just as John walked in. Reaching behind you, you unhooked your bra. As he gently shut the door, he started removing his own clothes, both of you eager to simply lounge on the couch.

You pulled on one of his USMC shirts and a pair of sleep shorts before your eyes looked over him. He wasn’t as fit as men your age, looks wise, but he was perfect to you. He still held the muscle tone from over the years, but now he had the perfect amount of softness to him. He made you feel safe and comforted at the same time.

Laying on the couch, the lights were out. Your head was on his lap, your arm over his leg. Chuckling lightly, he covered you up with a blanket, content watching how the lights from the tv played over your face.

Tonight looks good on you I just gotta tell you, baby

You look good at the party Good at the bar Somethin’ 'bout underneath these stars

You look good at the house Good in the car You’re lookin’ so good anywhere you are

Tonight, tonight looks good on you Tonight looks good on you I just gotta tell you, baby, yeah

#john winchester x reader #john x reader #john winchester oneshot

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ky-tumbles · 2 years

Text

Me and All My Heathens - Rhett Abbott

I do love all the incredible smut that’s been posted for this sexy cowboy 🤠

But I wanted some soft family man Rhett, and this popped into my head while working!

Summary: good ol’ Abbott family fun

Warnings: just mind melting fluff, maybe a mention or smidge of smut

His hand rests on your thigh, and his other hand is on the steering wheel. There's some love song playing softly, you can barely make out the lyrics over the soft snoring coming from the middle of the van.

You look over your shoulder for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. Your two year old is sleeping, and your 11 month old is swatting at his toy with one hand with his other stuffed in his mouth.

“They’re fine,” Rhett grumbles, he squeezes your thigh playfully before moving his hand up to your stomach. His thumb rubs up and down against the fabric of your sweater dress.

“Just wanted to check on my boys,” you shoot him a look. “I don’t think they’ve ever been this relaxed in the car before.”

Rhett just hums, eyes focusing on the road ahead. You stifle a yawn, hand going to your seat adjuster. Your chair reclines back a bit and you adjust your hips to a comfortable position. From your new position, it’s easier to admire your husband.

His hair is ruffled from his hat. He’d taken it off before he began driving. Theres a layer of scruff on his face, and his lips are pursed in thought. Your hand reaches out to tuck some hair back out of his face.

He catches your hand in his and presses a quick kiss to your palm before releasing it. There’s a glint in his eye and you chuckle.

“What?” He questions gruffly, sounding very much like his father for a millisecond.

“I just realized I forgot to check on my big boy,” you tease, leaning across the console to kiss his cheek.

Rhett’s cheeks flush, he wants so desperately to turn his head and kiss you so passionately your socks will fall off, but he also knows there’s three extra lives in the car he’s responsible for now. Three years ago, he would’ve pulled the vehicle over and had you the way he wanted but it’s hard with two little ones in the back and your belly in the way.

He’s full on lost in thought, eyes glinting in a familiar way. He’s definitely thinking about that one time two years ago. He’s got a coy smile on his face, the kind he gets before he bends you over the nearest surface.

“Remember that one time?” Rhett smirks, being as vague as possible to elicit a reaction from you.

You rest your head on your chin. You’re pretending to think about his question, it’s impossible to know what time he’s talking about. “No, babes, I have no idea what time you’re thinking of.”

His blue eyes leave the road for the briefest second, sparkling wildly. The look reminds you of a younger Rhett, one that had just put a ring on your finger and wanted nothing more than you by his side. He’s interrupted before he can indulge you in the dalliance that occupies his mind.

“Dada? We dere yet?” Ryder inquires, the two year old’s eyes are fighting to stay open. He lets out a large yawn as you peak your head over your shoulder.

His voice startles his little brother, you can see Colt in the baby mirror. His hand is no longer in his mouth, eyes wide threatening crocodile tears.

“Almost there, buddy,” Rhett reassures just as he pulls off the road and down the Abbott driveway. The normally yellow driveway is covered in a layer of snow.

You smile as the house comes into view. Royal had hung Christmas lights recently, something he’d taken to doing once Amy came along.

You can see Perry standing on the porch, eagle eyes watching your van pull in slowly.

Rhett groans. “He’s going to give me shit about the van.”

You roll your eyes as he pulls to a stop in front of the house. “He’s your older brother, he gives you shit for everything.”

Rhett just scoffs, playfully annoyed as he puts the van in park. He’s quick to get his seat belt off and get around to your door.

Perry is just as quick, bounding down the steps and walking to the car with fervour only an uncle who hasn’t seen his nephews in days has.

The door behind yours is pulled open at the same time as yours. Rhett helps you out and on your feet as Perry unclips Ryder. You can hear the giggles from your oldest as his uncle tickles his belly.

“Getting so big buddy!” Perry laughs, placing the boy on his hip and walking him towards the porch.

Your husband places a hand on your lower back as he leads you behind Perry towards the house, you hesitate. Colt is still in his car seat, he’s whining and the sound breaks your heart.

“Can’t leave the baby in the car,” you say, turning back to go get him.

“I will get the baby. The gorgeous pregnant lady is going to get her cute little butt in the house where she’ll be comfortable.” Rhett reasons back, eyes intense as they stare you down. He means business and who are you to argue with him, he looks especially sexy when he bosses you around, but you'll wait until everyone else is asleep to tell him.

Perry hands you Ryder as he goes to assist his brother. “I’ll help you grab the bags.”

Ryder yawns as he leans his head against your shoulder. You rub a hand up his back as you open the front door.

“Nice mini van by the way,” Perry snarks as you slip into the warm house. You giggle to yourself, brothers.

You don’t hear Rhett’s reply as you walk into the warmth of the Abbott family home. Your in-laws are seated on the couch, a holiday movie playing quietly on the TV. Amy sits on a lounger beside them, looking the ever bored teenager she recently became.

She’s the first to notice you as you set Ryder down on the ground. The little Abbott boy runs past his grandparents and straight to the farm dog that is sleeping like it's dead in the corner.

Royal and Cecelia both lift themselves from the couch, they each embrace you. Cecelia presses a kiss to your forehead, cupping your belly lovingly.

"You are absolutely glowing!" She smiles, you can see the excitement behind her eyes. She loves having little Abbott's running around the ranch. "How are your parents? You had a nice visit?"

"They're doing well, they say hi. They sent us back with pie." You laugh pointing to the bag that Perry has appeared in the kitchen with.

Royal is quick to inspect the contents, and Cecelia follows him, shaking her head and mumbling something about his health. You chuckle watching the two, it amazes you how after all these years they are still those two kids that fell in love.

A yip from the dog draws your eyes to your oldest boy. Ryder is pulling his tail and it's clear the dog is unhappy.

"Ryder William Abbott, you leave that dog alone right now." You project sternly, eyes narrowing at the little boy.

His gaze drops as he releases the dog's tail and mopes over to you. Rhett is suddenly at your side, with no idea what's going on but ready to back you up at any moment. Ryder's lip juts out as he wraps his arms around your legs.

"Sworry, momma," his bright eyes shine up at you. This face makes him look just like his father and you melt a little inside.

Rhett, sensing your resolve crumbling with the look given to you by your oldest baby, steps in. He crouches to the ground and holds on to your son's shoulder.

"You don't like it when Colt hits you, do you?" Rhett questions, face deadly serious.

The whole house has gone quiet, the family in the kitchen pretending to keep themselves busy while definitely listening in.

Ryder nods, shifting back and forth on his feet. He looks at his father and then back to you, trying to win your empathy.

"We can't go around hurting other people or animals, buddy. It's not nice." Rhett lectures, it's hot when he goes into full-on dad mode.

Ryder nods, his dad lets him go and he runs off to play with some toys. Colt's little footsteps can be heard behind you, you turn to catch the little boy but he blasts right past you towards his older brother.

"Wow," Perry laughs, as he joins you and Rhett in the living room, beer in hand. "You've got a little handful there."

Both the Abbott parents chuckle deviously at that.

"Reminds me of you boys when you were that little," Royal says as he sits back down on the couch.

Rhett leads you to the other couch, letting you perch yourself there before he sits as well. He pulls your back against his body and you lean into him. His hand splays itself over your stomach, sending the baby within into a kicking fit.

"Uncle Rhett," Amy sings, her voice going up an octave. She wants something.

He looks up at her, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Yes?" He questions, not trying to let her hear his hesitation.

"Are we going to have our usual sleepover?" She inquires, shooting her dad a dirty look when he laughs out loud.

It was a tradition they'd started years ago when you and Rhett had first started dating. At the start of every school holiday, Rhett, Amy, Perry and yourself would camp out on the living room floor and watch movies. With the boys being so little last year, neither joined but you imagine that Ryder will throw a hissyfit if he's not allowed to join.

"Of course, kiddo." He smiles, his face lighting up genuinely. He loves that his teenage niece still wants to keep up their little traditions. "but aunt Y/N won't be joining us."

You can't even bring yourself to be sad about it. With the size of your stomach, there's no way that the living room floor would be comfortable. Not to mention how your back is sore in a normal bed, god forbid you sleep without your pregnancy pillow.

"That's fair," Amy replies, smiling happily.

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #outer range #lewis pullman

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eupheme · 3 years

Note

12. With Bruce but in the way that he,, he’s never really been one to talk (we all knew that, it’s easily deduced.) but he really likes hearing you talk, and the one thing he can’t seem to get enough of is your voice during sex :,) just a silly little idea I had PFT

Oooo yes I love it! I see him as being very quiet, not overly talkative - but he would do his best to make you moan. Thank you so much for sending this in! 💖

Table Talk

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Rated E - 800 words

Prompt: 12 - “you can get louder can’t you”

Tags: smut, rough piv, dirty talk, dumification in a “fucked the words out of your head” kinda way

His wide palm flattens at the base of your spine, hips flush with yours as you bend over the metal table, the cold edges biting into your bare skin.

Shifting his stance, he rocks against you, pressing the curved ridge of his suit against your pussy - as his gloves and belt are discarded, dropping to the floor. Shoving your shirt up higher, giving him more access to your skin, your leggings already in a tangle around your ankles.

You rock back, letting him grind against you, your eagerness glinting in the low light as it smears across the crotch of his suit. There’s another sharp thrust of his hips, before he’s finding the zipper, a rough groan as he works himself free.

The velvet softness of him runs across your skin, tapping against the swell of your ass, before it moves down, gliding across your lips.

A whimper escapes then, as you lean and arch, offering yourself up to him, your cheek pressing against the papers littering the desk as you turn your head to look at him.

“You want this?” He rasps, the sweet drag of him across your wet folds, teasing. “My cock?”

You nod, your hands curled under your chin, watching the way his lips form the words, the day-old scruff that lines his strong jaw.

“Tell me how much.”

Tongue peeks out to wet your lips, dry from the panting exhale of your breath, “So bad, I need you to-“

Your words are broken off, turning jagged and high as the blunt head of his cock sinks into you, and he slides deep with a slow thrust.

He pulls back, only to rock forward again, making your toes point on the cold floor, your back arch as your thighs press against the table edge.

“What did you need?” Bruce asks, palming the soft curve of your hips, fingers sinking in, using his grip to pull you to meet his thrusts, “You need me to do what?”

It feels like he’s in your stomach, in your throat, your eyelashes fluttering as he fills you, short thrusts before he goes deep, stealing your breath.

“Need you-“ You falter, your words shaky, brain too fuzzy to form words, “To, oh-”

Still unable to finish your sentence, thoughts turning garbled, a soft moan of wordless sounds falling from your lips.

Any chance you had of recovering is lost when he shoves an arm under you, the armor cool against your stomach, fingers seeking your soaked cunt.

Two fingers press and circle, applying sweet pressure to your clit, and the sparks have you arching against him, hands gripping the edge of the table so you can grind into his hand.

It’s sharp huffs of breath, low moans, your cheek pressed flush against the table as you lose yourself to his enveloping presence, his thick fingers.

“Oh, just listen to you,” he groans through gritted teeth. “You can get louder can’t you?”

The words sound garbled in your brain, and you blink slowly, his words melding with the metallic squeak of the table, of the low murmurs coming from the surveillance recordings flashing around the monitors haloing your head.

“Moan for me, and I’ll make you come.” His voice drops, a sharp edge to it. Fingers slide down your back, soothing, his chest pressing into your shoulder, his mouth near your ear.

“Make you come so hard you can’t think.”

He flattens you to the table, as if being this close would help him feel the sounds beginning to fall from your lips.

The words sound so hot, so filthy coming from him - almost a shock at their intensity, at the phrases falling from his lips. Bruce sometimes could barely look you in the eye, even when he was pressed deep inside you.

But with the mask, he could do anything.

And you had asked for his help, and he was doing his best to give it to you.

You do what he says. You let go.

Oh fuck please

Yes, yes, yes

Oh, oh-

They echo around the open chamber, as loud and lewd as the slap of his skin on yours, the wet suction of your cunt.

He’s good to you, keeps his promise. The sharp edge of his chin digs into your shoulder as he rubs at your clit, fucking you until you’re shuddering underneath him, the hot clench of your heat around him as you come so hard you see stars.

It’s no more than a few thrusts before he’s there with you, spilling ropes of his spend into you as you flutter - his teeth scraping against the soft skin of your neck, muffling his own needy groans.

Because to him, your moans are like music - the only sounds he wants to hear.

#bruce wayne x f!reader #bruce wayne x reader #the batman x reader #Batman x reader #Bruce Wayne x you #the Batman

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

***3 months later***

A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

#erasermic #yandere erasermic #erasermic x reader #yandere erasermic x reader #erasermic smut #erasermic mha #erasermic bnha #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa smut #hizashi yamada #hizashi yamada x reader #hizashi yamada smut #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #hizashi yamada mha #hizashi yamada bnha

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elenamiria · 4 years

Text

The Jedi

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4.8k Summary: (Direct sequel to this maul x reader fic) After the events of the day you have to reconcile what happened with your master. Obi-Wan for a change expresses himself through actions instead of words Warnings: Master and Padawan relationship (Padawan is of age and I never write with the thought that the master has known them for a long time or since they were not of age), mentions of bruises and bite marks, Fem reader, oral (fem recieving), piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, inappropriate use of the force Masterlist -- Tags (send an ask or message me if you’d like to be added): @fishswimbetterunderwater @a-dorin @blxwjobsforclones @lynnie51 @katrynec @mistermiraclee @theelvenvalkyrie @crazycatladyjenga @stonegoldsecret-v2 @blackirisposts

You paced around the room aimlessly as you waited for your master to show up, nothing to distract you from your thoughts. You tried to squash down the fear inside you for what lay ahead not wanting to add to your already long list of un-Jedi like behavior from that day. When the sudden noise of a second set of footsteps joined yours you froze. The sounds grew to a thunderous level in your head before silence fell through the room, your back was to the entrance and a pit formed in your gut as you slowly turned around. Obi-Wan stood there in his usual attire, looking as composed as ever and yet as his cerulean eyes took in your form you felt yourself tremble under his gaze. You were the first to break the silence with a quiet, "I'm sorry," not knowing what else to say.

Obi-Wan shifted and took an audible inhale, the breath catching in his chest before he could say anything. His exhale was equally as loud as he shook his head, looking away briefly, your heart was in your stomach as you felt tears gather in your eyes. When his gaze turned back to you he noticeably softened as he called out to you, "Oh no, none of that. Come here darling."

His arms opened and in seconds you were across the room slamming into him and pulling him close to you. Obi-Wan returned your tight embrace one hand coming to grasp the back of your head firmly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his other arm firmly wrapped around your waist. You weren't even aware that you were crying until you gasped for air and Obi pulled away enough that he could cup your face softly. His thumb brushed away your tears as his eyes roamed your face, "It's alright, I'm here, it's ok."

You bit your lip as you took deep breaths mimicking his breathing in an attempt to calm yourself. Once you had stopped your tears Obi-Wan offered you a toothy smile and your eyes darted to his mouth before locking eyes with him.

"You aren't angry with me?" You questioned hesitantly, almost afraid to hear the answer. Obi's countenance darkened for just a second, you would have missed it if you did not know him so well, before switching back to a more neutral look - though he couldn't hide the relief in his eyes.

"No little one, I'm not angry with you. I am relieved that Maul didn't hurt or kill you...I don't know what I would have done." Obi-Wan's admission came a surprise to you, though it was obvious the both of you cared about each other a great deal it wasn't a fact the two of you often discussed. Especially when your feelings for him ran far deeper than a simple master and padawan bond should. You offered Obi-Wan a small smile as he continued, "We can deal with what happened here later, for now let's get you back to the ship."

His words gave you pause as you remembered the whole reason for being on-planet in the first place, for a moment you panicked as you gasped out, "The troopers!"

Obi once again soothed you, his hand slipping down your spine to rub gently at your back, "They're fine, they contacted me when you didn't make contact with them and they all have been picked up and are back on the capital ship. I had come down myself with a few men to look for you when you..."

Trailing off Obi-Wan abruptly pulled away from you, his face red, as he cleared his throat and straightened up, nodding towards the door, "Like I said we can discuss that later. Why don't we go back to the ship for now."

The speeder ride back to the troopers was silent and awkward, as was the ride back to the main ship. Obi was quick to escort you back to your quarters and away from prying ears, something which you were immensely grateful for. When you entered your room there was another spot of silence until both of you were speaking at once, “I don’t know how it happened and I-”

“You moaned my name. Twice.” Obi-Wan’s words intercut with yours and you froze as your brain processed what he was saying. Eyes wide you sputtered for a moment until you managed to spit out a lame, “Yes.”

You could see Obi-Wan’s cheeks reddening through his well groomed beard and you felt your own face heating as well. Looking down at the ground you mumbled, “I did. I- when I heard your voice all I could think about was you and I....”

Trailing off you really hoped he understood what you were going for and didn’t ask you to elaborate. A surprised little ‘oh’ left Obi-Wan’s mouth before he cleared his throat and questioned, “Have you thought about...you and I before those moments?”

You were sure his question was innocent, there was no way Obi-Wan felt the same way you did. He had never shown any outward interest - always the picture perfect Master, however you felt shame rising in you at the sheer amount of times you had thought about Obi in that light. You nodded and heard Obi-Wan take a deep breath before letting out a long sigh, it was then that it all became too much. You didn’t want to hear his rejection of you and you didn’t want to hear another lecture about the ways of the order, and you especially didn’t want to have to talk about having fucked your Master’s worst enemy. Instead you glanced at Obi-Wan muttering, ‘I need a shower,’ and fleeing to the bathroom.

The mirror was finally defogging from your extremely long and probably too hot, but much needed, shower. You stared at your appearance in the mirror, fingers brushing over the faint bruises blossoming on your hips, only just noticeable, before you tugged your underwear up. The room was hot from your near scalding shower but you pulled a spare undershirt over your body anyway. Your fingers lingered on your neck, 3 large marks decorating the skin there and you sighed lightly. The shirt did little to conceal the marks and so you tugged on the robe you had thrown on the floor earlier, pulling it tight around your body. A knock on the door startled you from your thoughts and you responded with a short “Come in.”

Attempting to find something to busy yourself with you found yourself picking at imaginary dirt from under your fingernails. Obi-Wan’s call of your name had your eyes darting to meet his in the mirror. Your breath hitched at his face etched with worry.

“Are you sure your alright little one? I-I know you said you were alright but it would make me feel better if I could check you for injuries myself.”

Your eyes hardened for just a second, fully prepared to say no, but the pure desperation you found in his eyes had you giving in. Giving him a short nod you whispered, “go ahead,” so quietly Obi-Wan nearly missed it. Looking down at the floor you slowly turned to face him, his hands landed on your arms trailing down to lace fingers with you. A soft squeeze had you finally glancing up to meet Obi’s eyes. Though just moments ago looking him in the eye had seemed terrifying now that your gaze locked with his it was the only thing convincing you that everything was going to be alright.

You were the one who unclasped your robe, shrugging it off your shoulders and allowing it to fall to the ground again. Obi-Wan’s breathing stuttered as he caught a glimpse of your neck, his fingers immediately hovering over the marks almost touching them. His hands dropped quickly as he seemingly realized they were made by Maul’s mouth and a displeased look covered his face. Obi’s eyes trailed down your body and his hands settled on the hem of your shirt. When you gave him a slight nod his palms began sliding up your shirt baring your upper thighs to him, once the shirt made it over your hips he paused. Blue eyes picked up on the faint marks on your hips and his fingers brushed over your left side causing a small hiccup in your breathing as your face heated at his tender touch. Obi-Wan’s eyes darted to your face and he whispered out, “Does that hurt little one?”

You nodded and Obi-Wan started to bend down as if he was going to examine it further until you spoke, “It’s not necessarily the bad kind of hurt though. It’s uh, more just sore.”

You offered, not wanting him to trouble himself over something so insignificant. However Obi-Wan continued his path downwards and as he settled on his knees in front of you a teasing glint entered his eyes as he questioned, “So, you don’t want me to kiss it better?”

Your jaw dropped at his brazen words, face burning hot as a squeak escaped you. Swallowing deeply you glanced down at your master while he stared expectantly up at you, waiting for a response. You nodded again though all that earned you was a slight head tilt and you pouted lightly realizing that you would actually have to admit what you wanted. Taking a deep breath your hand reached over to cup his cheek, fingers brushing through his scruff lightly as you breathily requested, “Kiss it better, please Obi-Wan.”

Your words came out a bit more sensually than you had planned but with the way Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened you couldn’t find it in you to care. Obi’s eyes trailed back down to his target, a spot just above where your panties ended, and suddenly he was pressing forward and placing a hot open mouthed kiss the the bruised area. A gasp flew from you as Obi-Wan suckled lightly at the affected area, sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine. His tongue lapped gently in between sucking and experimentally he nipped at the area causing a startled yelp to fill the room. As Obi-Wan made his way down the area, beard scratching at your stomach and leaving your hips to buck unconsciously, his hands slid to your ass - groping firmly. His mouth made its way to hover just over your clothed and absolutely soaked pussy. Taking a moment Obi-Wan looked up at you once again as he cooed out, “And what about here, darling? Are you sore here too?”

Truth be told you were sore from the thorough fucking that you had received from the former sith lord but there was a part of you that was aching for this so strongly that you couldn't hold back any longer. Gliding your hands to your panties you grasped the edges and pulled them off, muttering sweetly, “I bet you could make my cunt feel so much better Obi-Wan, it’s aching for you.”

Obi audibly choked at your words, his hands settling on your thigh as he guided your legs open and exposed your slick swollen lips to him. A low groan slid from his throat as he took in just how soaked you were for him and you caught the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Moments later it was you who was letting out a groan as Obi-Wan flattened his tongue and licked a broad stroke up your lips, catching on your clit and causing your legs to tremble. Repeating the motion Obi took in your taste, your freshly bathed scent, everything about you that he could take in he did - desperate for every part of you. As he repeated the long lick a third time his hands squeezed your thighs gently and before you knew it Obi-Wan was diving in, lapping and sucking at your clit like a man starved. You cried out, partially in surprise partially in pleasure, and your hand buried in his hair as bliss shot through your body.

Your hips canted towards him unconsciously, enraptured with the pleasure you were receiving and delighting in the way his scruff rubbed against you. The way you continually ground against his face along with the perfect little whimpers and whines you were causing Obi-Wan to harden, cock swelling with need, desperate for you. As he continued his ministrations one of his hands left your thigh to grasp at his aching length over his pants, needing some form of contact. When his hand left you, curiously you had looked down and you could immediately tell what was going on.

Your breath hitched and though Obi had worked you up so close to reaching your peak you decided there was another place you’d rather cum. Reaching down you tugged lightly on his hair urging him away from your dripping lips with a cry of his name to draw his attention to you. His dazed expression almost tipped you right over the edge - his beard and lips glistening with your juices, the way his tongue darted out to clean his lips, and the way he stared up at you like you held all the stars in the galaxy. A breathless smile covered your face as you guided Obi to stand again and crashing your lips together once again. His arms were wrapped around you in and instant, pulling you close as if he were worried you would disappear. You could taste your tang on his lips and on his tongue when you parted your lips for him, the taste combined with his causing you to whimper into his mouth. When you finally broke apart with a soft moan you trailed your hand down to stroke his cock as you pleaded, “Please fuck me, Obi.”

A deep pleased rumble left Obi-Wan’s chest and he captured your hand to tug you out of the bathroom to the small bed within your quarters. Sitting down on the bed he tugged you onto his lap, legs on either side of his thighs and your cunt just barely brushing his bulge. Obi kissed you soft and sweet this time while your hands made quick work of undoing his breeches to tug his thick length out. As you hands brushed against his cock Obi-Wan let out a strangle sort of groan as his head jerked back, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment. His reaction had your lips parting before curving into a soft smirk and you ran your fingers up and down the length of his rigid dick, eyes watching his reactions intently wanting to commit each one to memory. After a particularly needy gasp of your name you took mercy on your master and lined his tip up with your entrance, your hips brushed back and forth slightly, coating his tip in your juices before you sank down onto him. The first few inches took your breath away and you could tell Obi-Wan was feeling it too as his hands landed firmly on your hips. You let out a small hiss as his hands squeezed over the bruised areas and quickly he relocated his hands to your waist with an apology. Your hands landed on his shoulders and you gave them a squeeze as you whispered out, “It’s alright Obi-Wan.”

Taking a few deep breaths you raised yourself up slightly before sinking back down onto the hard cock below you, taking a little more of him into you each time you repeated the motion. When you felt like you could take him all you allowed yourself to sit hard on his length and he bottomed out deep within you. Your walls fluttered hard around him as you nuzzled into his neck, smothering the moans that flew from your mouth. Obi’s hands tightened as he breathed out your name and swearing seconds later when you clamped down on him. As you adjusted to the feeling you slowly started to grind your hips against his, whimpering while his cock brushed up against your most sensitive spots. Gasps filled the air as both of you took in the pleasure and you leaned back in order to start bouncing on Obi-Wan’s length.

Your Master guided you, using his hands to help you keep your rhythm, and this time he was burying his face in your neck. He left light kisses and gentle nips over the areas where Maul’s teeth had bruised, soft and gentle where Maul was rough. Obi-Wan didn’t seek to mark you as his only to soothe and comfort, he hoped to let you know that it was alright and that he still loved you despite what had happened. His softness had your walls clenching at every brush of his beard and every time his lips touched your neck, it was all so overwhelming you found you were barely able to keep your pace. Obi-Wan must have sensed your struggle as he lifted you off of him, despite your protests, in order to lay you down on the bed below him. Settling in front of you he lined back up with your entrance while your legs wrapped around his hips - urging him forward. A light laugh filled the air as Obi-Wan smiled down at you and teasingly chided, “Patience, little one.”

You couldn’t help the pout that covered your lips until Obi-Wan leaned forward to kiss it away. You giggled softly against his lips, unable to stay annoyed with him especially when he was kissing your thoughts away. His hand that wasn’t holding his weight found the edge of your shirt and slid under it, forging a path up your stomach and sternum before settling on your breasts. Gasping as Obi-Wan’s lithe fingers tweaked at your nipple he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth while you arched your back below him. In the midst of this Obi’s hips finally relented and his cock prodded at your entrance before you reached down to angle him properly so as he shifted forward his cock pushed into your depths.

Your cunt clenched around his tip desperate for more and Obi-Wan was happy to oblige, pressing forwards as he he broke apart from your lips to sit up straight. His hips thrust forward the rest of the way until his hips were flush with yours and you were both sighing in pleasure. You whimpered under him and bucked your hips with a soft cry of his name, Obi-Wan smiled down at you as his hips dragged backwards. The slow pull of his cock against your sensitive entrance had you whining below him as your hips chased after his only to loudly cry out when his hips snapped forward again. He repeated these slow drags and quick thrusts for several long minutes until you were writhing beneath him, babbling and pleading for more. Obi-Wan teased until a cry of, “Master, Please!”, left your lips and he finally caved.

Your words had him growling out your name as his hips sped up to a steady rhythm, the sounds of him dicking you down filling the air. His grip on your waist tightened slightly as his cock pounded away and you were shocked by the fast pace he had set. You had expected Obi-Wan to want to take things slow but after all the buildup it seemed he was as desperate for you as you were for him. His grip on your waist had pulled your shirt tight against your body showing off the way your tits bounced on every thrust into your slick cunt. Obi’s eyes were trained on them and his hips sped up as he adjusted his grip, one hand fisting your shirt to keep it tight while his other grabbed one of your tits. Squeezing softly he ran his thumb over your peak, quickly finding your nipple and rolling it between two fingers, causing it to stiffen and for a squeak to fly from your lips. Your hand shot down to your clit as a deep thrust hit something that had you seeing stars and your orgasm fast approached while Obi toyed with your nipples. Panting your fingers rubbed tight circles on your clit until both your arms were wrenched over your head and pinned there by unseen hands. Obi-Wan’s use of the force had your walls tightening around him as he growled out, “Let me take care of you little one.”

His hand which had been wrapped in your shirt slid down your tummy to find your clit, mimicking you movements and rubbing in tight circles that had you crying out for more. Your hips bucked in time with his thrusts as his cock slammed into you over and over. You were so close to tipping over the edge and your eyes met Obi-Wan's as you simpered out, “Obi, please I’m so close. I need you Obi.”

Shifting his weight his pace slowed as his arm slid under your body to grasp at the back of your neck and he leaned down, his chest pressing into yours as his lips captured yours. His adjusted position allowed him to press deeper into your tight cunt, once again brushing up against your g-spot and hitting it consistently on each thrust. He swallowed down your cries as you tipped over the edge, pussy spasming and clenching around his length, his fingers working you through the orgasm. Your chest expanded as you wiggled below him, pressing the two of you together impossibly close, and you whined into his mouth as his fingers continued toying with your clit, prolonging your pleasure. Muttering a protest against his lips at the overstimulation you were silenced by him pulling back just enough to whisper, “It’s alright darling, I have you. You can give me one more, I know you can do it my good girl.”

His words sent a heavy aftershock through your body and your walls fluttered much to Obi-Wan’s delight as he let out a light moan. His slow, sensual pace continued and your cunt squeezed constantly around his length as the stimulation on your little bundle of nerves got to be too much. Your hands clenched, fingers digging into your palm, as you attempted to smother your noises as they grew in both frequency and volume the closer you got to your second orgasm. As Obi slammed into you particularly hard you couldn’t hold back the blissed out noise that slipped between your lips as your eyes unfocused for a brief moment. Obi-Wan repeated the motion causing the same reaction as you lost yourself in the pleasure, Obi grunting as you clamped down on him.

“You like that little one? Want me to fuck you like that until you cum for me darling?” He questioned, continuing the same motion and increasing his speed without waiting for a response. Though it was just as well since you were fairly incapable of responding to him as your eyes glazed over and you cried his name out as you were swept up in your second release. As if determined to blind you with pleasure Obi’s fingers sped up against your clit, rubbing furiously and causing your whole body to tighten - spiraling higher and higher until it was all too much and your body went limp. You felt a rush of liquid as you gushed around his thick cock and the obscene squelching noise that filled the air as your Master fucked you through your orgasm caused an embarrassed moan to escape you. The slick tickled at your clit and soaked his fingers, which he finally removed from your aching nub, and you whimpered when you felt it slide down your asshole to land on the bed. At the feeling your weak cunt clenched and Obi thrust a few more times, until he stilled deep within you as he reached his own peak. His cum shot out in ribbons, painting your walls and filling you up more than you thought possible. As he came inside you up his grip on your hands through the force faltered and your arms were free, instantly clinging to his shoulders as soon as you realized you could move, tugging him to you for a soft kiss.

The two of you lay together for a long moment, him nuzzling into your neck and you laying there thoroughly exhausted as you stroked his hair gently, arms still wrapped around his shoulder. Obi-Wan was the first to move with a regretful groan as he separated from your heat, you flinched as he withdrew and for the second time in 24 standard hours you felt cum sliding from your sated pussy. A whimper left you but you were far to exhausted to do anything about it, not even noticing that Obi-Wan had disappeared to grab a warm damp cloth along with a meal bar and water. Having removed his outer layers he came back with just his undershirt and underwear on as he knelt by the edge of the bed. Tenderly he moved your legs so he could clean up the mess of your combined cum in slow gentle strokes. When he was finished he helped you sit up in order to eat and drink, sliding back onto the bed behind you and his arms winding around you waist. You eased back into him with a contented sigh and he accepted your glass and trash, laying them on the floor, when you were finished. The two of you maneuvered until you were comfortable, Obi-Wan laying on his back with an arm tugging you close while you used his chest as a pillow and pressed yourself to his side. After all the recent events your brain was running a mile a minute and yet you could barely keep your eyes open. Drowsily you went to ask Obi-Wan a question but all you got out was his name before your eyes fluttered shut. That last thing you heard before drifting off was, “Just rest now sweet little one, I’ll be here when you wake.”

It was dark. Pitch black, and yet someone else was there - you could sense them. Cautiously spinning around you attempted to peer through the darkness to no avail. Your hand reached unconsciously for your lightsaber only to find it missing and you tensed. Finally something broke the silence, a recognizable deep angry low growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’ve been very bad my little Jedi. Such a little slut you let your Master fuck you not even a day after I did. Do you really have such a greedy cunt?” The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time and you spun trying to locate him. You could feel your annoyance at the Sith build as he refused to show himself until you froze as his golden eyes glowed at you in the darkness. You had to bite back a whimper as he stalked towards you, a mix of arousal and anger filling you. His voice echoed towards you, reverberating off of nothing in a way that had you quivering, “Don’t worry my little whore, the next time I see you...I’ll make sure you get what you need.”

In a sudden flurry of movement he was inches from you, his hand pulling your head back harshly as his teeth bared in a fierce scowl, “I’ll have to remind you that you belong to me.”

A yelp flew from your lips at the unexpected closeness and suddenly you were shooting forward, sitting up quickly. Blinking blearily you tried to regain your bearings as you looked around for Maul frantically. It wasn't until a sleep filled call of your name met your ears that you convinced yourself it was just a dream. Obi-Wan’s hand met your spine as he called to you again and you turned to meet his furrowed brow and concerned blue eyes. Smiling you nodded with a whisper of, “Just a bad dream, that’s all.”, before you allowed him to pull you back down to him. Nuzzling into his chest you allowed yourself to relax as you repeated softly, “It was just a dream. Just a dream.”

Maul’s piercing yellow gaze bore into the ceiling above his bed. A smirk tugged at his lips, he had never planned on fucking you again - figuring he would use you against Kenobi the next time he found you, and then disposing of you. But now? Now that he knew your Master had feelings for you it was going to be so much more delicious to ruin you for him. He groaned as he felt his cock twitch as recalled all the depraved things you and he had done last time before thinking of all the things he was going to do to you the next time he found you. Maul’s eyes slid shut as his hand wrapped around his aching length, for now he’d just have to be content with his own imagination.

#Obi-wan Kenobi X Reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi-wan kenobi x y/n #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi-wan kenobi fanfiction #maul x reader #maul x you #maul x y/n #darth maul x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #reader insert smut #fem!reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n #darth maul x you #darth maul x y/n

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years

Text

tastes so bitter (tastes so sweet)

You’re driving back from an out-of-town mission with Hawks when your car breaks down on a very sparsely-populated highway. While you await relief, things get... personal.

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), car sex, pro hero!reader, angst, emotionally unavailable hawks

notes: ta-dah!!! the car sex fic! this turned out way longer and way more feelsy than I ever intended it to be. but I’m grateful for the chance to show you how I play with plot and emotion as well as some good porn. porn with feelings, y’know?

EDIT: The supremely talented @la-saffron has created an absolutely spectacular piece of artwork for this fic! Please go and look at it right here, it’s really quite splendid

Masterlist

The shadowy trees on either side of the highway cast a chill across the pavement as the sky went dark.

It was far from sunset, but the woods were so tall and thick that the light had disappeared from the road a long time ago. The overpriced navigation system laid into the dashboard of Hawks’ luxurious car was no help at all; not when you were taking the only road for miles around.

The highway narrowly passed for two lanes, winding precariously down from the mountains. Dotted with reflective yellow signs- deer crossing, bear crossing, creatures-of-unimaginable-horror crossing. Bigfoot himself could have wandered into your headlights and you barely would’ve flinched.

But that was to be expected, given where you’d come from.

That day’s mission brought you both far, far away from the city. There was a national forest about three hours away- one of the biggest in the country- and you and Hawks had been called in at the crack of fucking dawn to drive all the way out to the woods and investigate some ‘strange reports,’ as the rangers cared to call them.

Most park rangers knew what they were seeing when guests came in from the woods reporting abnormal happenings. Nobody was truly immune to fear, though, when faced with the impossible.

Whether there were paranormal creatures lurking in those woods or not, you couldn’t have been sure. But after spending the day exhausting both your quirks combing every spare inch of those woods, you were relieved of your overnight duties by a group of other, more nature-savvy heroes.

Hawks had been miffed, but too exhausted to argue. He didn’t like to think he’d been overshadowed. You were just thankful to be going home to your own bed.

“Okay,” you sighed, nursing the last of a lukewarm soda from a burger joint at the edge of the only one-horse town you’d passed through. It was a pretty unassuming stop for dinner, but you and Hawks both agreed that the burgers were way too good to be sold to so few patrons.

Keigo was driving, with one palm splayed lazily across the bottom edge of the wheel. His scarlet wings stretched into the backseat, draping over the shoulders of his black leather backrest like some bizarre kind of seat cover.

The fact that his car was so luxurious was not lost on you- although you were more surprised to find out that he had one at all. Hawks seemed like the last person in the world to need a car, after living in a fantastic downtown penthouse. And owning a pair of wings, come to think of it.

He owned it because he could. And because he knew how good he looked in the driver’s seat.

“What?” He turned a curious eye toward you, though he never quite pulled his gaze from the road.

“I know we started this conversation on the way here,” you began, “but… we never exactly finished it.” You swirled what was left of the ice chips in the bottom of your cup, considering the best way to voice your thoughts.

“Alright.” He sounded vaguely amused, slouching a little further down and drawing an idle palm over his feathered hair. “Shoot.”

“Well…” You trailed off. “You’re kind of… a city guy.” You were already starting to talk with your hands. The racket coming from your half-drunk soda was proof enough.

“What makes you say that?”

“You are,” you defended. You let a playful edge creep into your tone. “And the agency’s kind of a city thing.”

“Am I really as one-note as you’re making me out to be?” He was chuckling. Your cheeks were going hot. You weren’t sure how this became a personal conversation, but you were determined to steer it in the proper direction. You course corrected.

“I just mean, we don’t take a lot of jobs outside the city. Like… ever. So, what’s with this one? Why this call?”

He didn’t answer right away. When you glanced across the car, he was licking his lips and appearing to be, very genuinely, thinking.

“Well,” he began. There was an immensely appealing depth that wore around the edges of his voice when he was deep in thought. You hung on tightly, trying your best to hide how intently you listened.

“I was just… bored, I guess.” He gave a lazy little shrug. His eyes were still trained on the windshield, but you could feel the weight of his urges. He wanted to look over. You turned your head, willing him to.

“Probably sounded like bullshit, now that I think about it,” he confessed, “but if there really was somethin’ freaky in those woods… I dunno. I wanted to see it.”

You resisted the urge to snort.

“Maybe you should start a ghost hunting branch at the agency.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he protested. This time, he really did drag his eyes away from the road for a second. They glinted playfully in the dark. You got a flash of pearly canine from the barest hint of a grin, but it was enough to put a stupid smile right across your face.

A sickening thud from beneath the hood zapped any false confidence you’d been building. There was a dull pop, then the engine died.

“What the- shit.” Hawks scrambled to put both hands on the wheel, navigating the car with what momentum remained over to the narrow shoulder. The tires hit gravel and soft mud, rolling pathetically to a stop and settling in damp silence.

“What the hell was that?” You leaned over the dashboard as your pulse came down from near-terminal velocity. There were half a dozen lights blinking away on the dashboard- symbols you couldn’t understand.

“Not sure.” Keigo was doing his best not to sound too perturbed. As a result, he was just perturbed enough.

You knew what those lights implied, though. Service due. Oil change due. Battery maintenance due.

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, “when was the last time you took this car in for service? It’s a miracle you even made it out of the goddamn garage.”

Hawks was in the process of mashing the engine start button like an arcade game. When you spoke up, he pushed it down and held. The engine gave a dull, sad sort of sputter, but nothing roared to life.

“Look, look,” he dismissed, waving a hand in your direction as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I don’t drive this thing that often, okay? I’m gonna go check under the hood.”

He climbed out of the driver’s side and slammed the door before giving you the chance to remind him to pop the hood. For a minute, you let him wallow in his mistake, watching gleefully as he pried at the seam of it. Finally, you unbuckled yourself and leaned over, flicking the release for him.

He gave an unamused glance toward the windshield and lifted the hood, obscuring all but the very tips of his drooping wings from view.

After about fifteen seconds, he ducked back into the car with a rush of cold air behind him. He rubbed his palms together as you watched, arms folded over your chest.

“So?” You prompted. He gave a sideways glance in your direction, blowing into his chilled hands.

“So what?”

“Oh my g- what’s wrong with the car?” You tried your best not to let panic set in.

“I don’t know. It’s just a bunch of pipes and wires under there. They didn’t exactly give me a map of the thing when I bought it.”

You’d seen Hawks pull people out of burning buildings before. You’d see him think on his feet, devise a plan and act on it in the blink of an eye. Usually, he was impulsive. Confident. Clever.

Tonight, on the other hand, he was demonstrating a very clear affinity for money over brains.

You flopped into your seat, scrubbing your hands over your face. You were not going to freak out. You refused to. It didn’t matter that Keigo had suddenly become useless in the face of disaster. You were heroes, even if you had to save your damned selves.

“Oh,” he quipped from beside you. “Still got bars. See?” As you peeked over at him through one cracked eyeball, he waved his illuminated phone screen at you. “It could be worse, kid. If this were a horror movie, this thing’d be dead.”

He tapped away on the screen, seeming very pleased with himself. Even his wings gave a little ruffle, draping themselves smoothly over the back of his seat again.

“I’ll call us a tow. We’ll be outta here in no time.”

A few minutes later, you had a map pulled up on your phone while Hawks’ brow creased deeper and deeper.

“Uh-huh.” His voice had taken on that irresistible deepness to it again, but this time it was sending pangs of dread through your gut.

“Right.” He brought a palm up to smooth over his jaw, fingertips bending and pressing idly against the patches of scruff that dusted it. “Y-yep, yeah, I understand. Fifty miles is a long way. I know it’s gonna be a lot to send a truck that far. But-“

As he was abruptly cut off by the other end of the line, those idle fingers slipped up to his temple, pressing inward and rubbing in stiff little circles.

“Okay. Alright. Yeah, I guess we’ll wait, ‘cause there’s not much else we can… I understand. Yes, thank you. Thank you. Okay, we’ll be here. Or within a ten-foot radius. Thanks. B-“

He blinked rapidly at the screen as he pulled it away from his ear. “Have an excellent night, sir,” he muttered under his breath. He let out a deep sigh, lifting a hip to tuck his phone away again.

“They said they would send someone,” he said, “but the depot is, like, fifty miles from here. Could be a couple of hours.”

“A couple hours?” That cold dread was settling into your chest again. So much for sleeping in your own bed.

“Yeah. C’mon, get out.”

“What?” You glanced past him at the frosted driver’s side window. “It looks freezing out there.”

“Well then, you’d better bundle up. C’mon. I’m gonna fly us back to the city.”

“No way. Hawks- Keigo.” You grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly as he made to get out of the car.

“What?” Exasperation was creeping into the edges of his voice. The sides of his gaze, too, as he landed against the seat back with a thud and turned his cheek to look at you.

“You’ve been flying all day. Your wings are shot. You’re not flying anywhere.”

“What? They’re fine.” He gave the appendages in question a defiant flutter and a cloud of expiring feathers floated into the backseat.

You folded your arms across your chest. Hawks gave a frustrated growl.

“What do you suggest, then?” He retorted in fierce opposition to your silence. “Just sit around and fucking… die of old age before the tow truck comes?”

“Oh my god, you’re the number two hero,” you snapped back. “When did you become such a drama queen? Yes, we’re going to wait. Like a normal person would have to.”

“I’m not being dramatic; I’m presenting you with a legitimate solution and you’re ignoring it!”

“If you try to fly us both out of here, you’re gonna hit the ground before we’re halfway home. And then we’ll be really stranded, with no water and no shelter. So, if you’d like to fly back all by yourself, I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to let you kill both of us.”

“Fine!” Hawks’ cheeks were flushed with temper as he kicked the door open and clambered out of the car. He kicked it shut again so hard the whole body rocked, and for a moment you were left, trapped in shocked silence.

He was really going to leave you out here. Alone.

Half a dozen heartbeats passed before his boots crunched on the shoulder and he wrenched the door open again, flopping back into the car with an immense sigh of irritated defeat.

“Fuckin’ freezing out there,” he muttered as quietly as possible.

You wanted to punch him.

“You ready to wait?”

His wings stiffened behind him, then drooped so lowly they seemed to disappear into the backseat. He looked at you from the corner of one tawny eye.

“Yeah.”

For the first hour, you honestly enjoyed yourself. As soon as Keigo accepted his fate, he got much closer to his usual mellow self. You finished off cold fries from dinner, listened to true crime podcasts on your phone, (you listened- he talked over the whole thing) and played a few ruthless games of hangman on a couple of napkins you found in the glove compartment.

You’d spent a lot of time with Hawks in a professional capacity. As partners, you took most of your missions together. You were well-versed in the way that he liked to think, the way he approached a job, a conversation. You worked well with each other and you were drawn to his quick wit and laid-back humour. Even if he was a piece of work at times, you made a strong team. But you didn’t do a whole lot of hanging out.

“Okay, that’s it,” he chided as you added an extravagant top hat to the completed, dressed hangman scrawled onto the inside fold of your last napkin. The word he’d failed to guess was ‘patience,’ and the irony of his struggling was not lost on you.

“Aw, c’mon,” you protested. “You’ve still got gloves and a bow tie left.”

“No, no, no.” He held up a palm, shaking his head. There was a good-natured grin curling his lip as he bowed toward the door. “I’m callin’ it. I gotta take a leak.”

You snatched your soda cup from the drink holder, clutching it protectively against your chest.

“You’re not going in here.”

Next, it was Hawks’ turn to shoot you a deadpan stare.

“How about in the woods? Is that allowed?”

Your cheeks went hot. “It’s pretty dark out there.”

“Aw.” Hawks shoved the door open. There was an unfamiliar glint to his eye as he tossed a mischievous look over his shoulder. “Guess you won’t be able to sneak a peek, then.”

You slammed your fist into his back. “Shut up and go take a piss.”

As the car door clicked shut, you turned the other way out of sheer habit. All you could see in the opposite window was the reflection of your own face. Maybe it was just the dim light, but you looked exhausted. Keigo had seen you caked in blood, streaked by mud and soot before. But you’d both been awake since four o’clock that morning and there was a special kind of ugly feeling that came with overtiredness.

You were dreaming about the first thing you’d do when you got home again when Hawks climbed back into the car. He looked considerably brighter as he ducked inside, and he brought a flush of rich, earthy forest-smell along with him.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it in the cold out there,” you quipped. Payback.

But Keigo just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Close the door,” you whined as the frigid air from outside finally reached your bare arms. “It’s already cold enough in here.”

“Aw,” he crooned, tugging the door shut behind him. “You scared of a little cold now, kid? It’s not so bad out there. Feel.”

He lunged at you, ducking rapidly to rub his frigid cheek against your shoulder. You let out a terse yelp and squirmed, trying to shove him back amid a sea of chilled giggles. He got a few passes of his icy skin on yours before you both realized how close you’d gotten.

Hawks cleared his throat and scooted away from you. In the bare light from the shitty overhead lamp, you were starting to see the outline of a flush creeping into his cheeks.

The light abruptly went out, leaving you in darkness again.

“Tell me something,” he mused, grabbing for the abandoned takeout bag and digging a hand into it. He produced a tiny wrapped square and tore it open with his teeth, removing the folded alcohol wipe from inside and gliding it with impossible grace over his fingertips. He eyed you sideways.

“How come we don’t hang out more?”

Your chest went cold. You’d been dreading that question all night. Longer than that, even.

“What d’you mean?” It was a gut response, but you instantly kicked yourself for even attempting to play dumb.

“You know,” he chided, dumping the wipe back into the paper bag once he was finished with it. “We work. We do interviews together. We do those bullshit PR functions together. I’ve known you- what, two years? And we’ve never even been for a drink. What gives, kid? Don’t tell me I grate on you.”

“I get plenty of you on company time,” you retorted. You were starting to panic. You weren’t ready for this conversation, but it didn’t seem like you were going to be rescued by the timely arrival of the tow truck.

“Okay, okay, I’d take that,” he laughed, “if you hadn’t agreed to take this mission with me. C’mon, this wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five gig.”

He paused. “Come out with me this weekend.” He nudged your shoulder with a bony elbow. You tried your best not to snap.

“Stop,” you pressed quietly. “You know why we don’t.”

The smirk slipped from Keigo’s face.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Wait a second, there’s an actual reason? What the hell is it?”

The confusion was genuine on his face. Hawks could be a smarmy little shit when he wanted to be. But you could tell he wasn’t fucking with you.

“Oh my god.” The words slipped out like a deep breath. Your hand drifted to your mouth as cold shock ran over your skin. “You really don’t remember.”

“No.” His confusion was bordered with fear. He sat back a little, letting his eyes drift over your expression. “No, I really don’t.”

You swallowed hard. You should have known that you’d have to talk about this eventually. But he didn’t even remember the night that had been changing the way you acted around him for nearly a year.

“Last Christmas,” you began. Your breath was so short that it put a desperate hush to your voice that you absolutely hated. You revelled in your ability to act casual around him, but the more probing he got, the harder that composure was slipping.

“At the agency gala. You remember the party, right?”

Hawks rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I got trashed.” He paused. Realization dawned on his face, and he shot you the deepest, most sincere look of concern you’d ever seen. Even more sincere than the look that crossed his face when you got shot off the roof of a house and broke a rib.

He leaned forward.

“Did I do something?” He swept a palm over his mouth, fingertips dallying at his chin. You knew exactly how he felt in that moment. You’d been there before, too, realizing that you’d lost control. Blacked out. Understanding that you might have done something you were going to regret.

“You really don’t remember a thing?” It was your turn to be horrified. How could something that consumed your every thought stay so damned far from his?

His fingers were still curved around the point of his chin. He’d gone white, and he shook his head as his eyes cast down to his lap.

“You fucking kissed me, okay?” You snarled with a whip of frustration. “There was mistletoe and you kissed me under it and-and Christ, I can’t believe you.”

“What? What?” He demanded as his voice grew defensively sharp.

“I had no idea what you were gonna do. What you were gonna say, what was gonna change between us. I showed up to the agency the next morning and your hungover ass acted like nothing had ever happened.”

“Of course I did,” he defended, “I didn’t think anything did happen. Oh my God, did I really kiss you?” His wings were coming to life all of a sudden, bristling on either side of his seat. There was a dull whisp as one edge of them brushed against the window. They seemed to expand, along with his horror, to fill the entire car.

He pushed further. “Well, did you… did you want me to?”

You could see where his thoughts were taking him. The answer was an impossible dilemma. To lead him further down that path would not only be cruel, it would be untrue. But to tell him the truth- that you had wanted it- would be to shatter the fragile illusion of casual, platonic intimacy that you’d been building over the last two years.

You chewed your lower lip. Hard enough to hurt.

“Oh god, you didn’t,” he gasped. That was enough for you to lift your chin and shoot him a sudden, sad, pathetic little look.

“Jesus,” he gasped again, deeper this time. “You did.”

“Look,” you snapped. “I was never gonna say anything to you. I was never gonna push it. You didn’t feel that way and I knew that and I just wanted to work.”

He told you enough about his personal life as it was. Every date he swung in from on Monday morning, every Friday night he spent preening in the last hours of the workday hurt enough already. If you’d grown close, fallen harder, it would’ve become too much to bear.

“What do you mean, I didn’t feel that way? What way don’t I feel? How could you even know that?” He was beginning to raise his voice back at you and the adrenaline was pushing you way too far to listen.

“Because you never said a fucking word to me about that kiss! You pretended like it never even happened, Kei! What was I supposed to think!”

“If you’d asked me, you woulda known that I didn’t speak up ‘cause I didn’t remember a goddamn thing!” Keigo jammed a finger into his temple. His golden eyes flashed. He was so fucking hot when he was angry, but this was not a fight you ever wanted to have.

Luckily for you, he was having it without you.

“What do you want me to say to that?” He snarled. “Huh? What- you want me to tell you that I’m sorry for not having psychic powers? That I’m sorry I didn’t hire a mind-reader to tell me what the fuck was going on with you?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. You were on the verge of tears.

“I-I never-“ you began, but Keigo beat you to the punch,

“You know, maybe I noticed that you were actin’ funny around me. And maybe I should’ve asked. But maybe if you ask yourself, and if you really, honestly give yourself the truest answer, you’d be able to admit that you knew how I felt about you. That you always knew.”

“Of course I knew!”

Your response echoed raw and deafening in the silence of the car. You’d lost your temper and shouted it at him with every decibel left in your breathless chest. Your fists were clenched atop your frigid thighs as you bent over in your seat, shivering. To your immense embarrassment, warm tears trickled down the sides of your nose.

He was right, after all. Every sideways smile he’d given you was just a little too broad to be friendly. Every time he caught you by the hand, he held it just a little too long. Every time he offered you the crook of his elbow at a stuffy charity gala and every time he poured you into a cab at the end of the night, he promised to take good care of you. Every time he looked at you at all it was with a depth that you had recognized, but never understood.

“But look at us, Kei. Look at what we do to each other.”

You sniffled, scrubbing tears off your cheeks with the heels of your hands. He reached for you, seeking to comfort, but his hands twitched midair and he drew back instead.

“Yeah,” he croaked. You tossed a glance in his direction. He looked more dejected than you’d seen him in a long time. He rested both hands on top of the wheel, the rest of his body sagging against the seat back.

“Except now I’ve told you,” you continued. “And now we both know, so everything’s fucked no matter what.”

You were met with silence. The truth was dawning on you. You hated to even consider it, but it felt like what needed to be done.

“When we get back to the city,” you started. Hawks interrupted you with a low rasp of your name.

“No, when we get back, I’m giving you my resignation.”

“Fuck, stop.”

Keigo lunged, grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you toward him. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. The warmth of his closeness weighed on you like a heavy quilt. You couldn’t even pretend not to be immensely comforted by affection from him.

“I’m not gonna let you do that, kid.”

You were both drawing deep breaths- slow, rolling gulps of air that matched over gradual time. You licked your lips, bracing your chilled palms on his shoulders. Your fingertips brushed the very edges of his feathered hair, dull and soft in the dark.

You’d talked each other down from bigger, badder edges before. But this one had sharp, jagged rocks waiting at the bottom. This one, you were going to have to jump from together.

“I can’t do this,” you pleaded. “I can’t keep myself away from you like this.”

“Don’t.” His voice was hushed and so achingly tender, like he couldn’t take the command himself.

“I can’t-“

“Then, don’t.”

He was firmer this time, and the pad of his thumb brushed the bottom of your lip. He pulled back just a hair, grazing the tip of his nose across yours. The heat of his breath puffed over your lips and his blonde eyelashes threatened to tickle your cheek.

He drew in a slow, calculated breath.

“Lemme kiss you. Lemme try again. I’m not gonna forget it this time, I swear.”

“Keigo, please.”

“Just lemme try. Just once. I’ll never ask you again, if you don’t want me to.” He pulled back the rest of the way and your body keened at the loss, but he looked deeply into your eyes. Deeply like he’d never been allowed to look before.

You licked your lips. Considered it for half a heartbeat. Then you gave a slow little nod.

“Okay.”

To your surprise, he didn’t lunge again. He took his time with you. He cupped your cheeks tenderly between his bare palms, memorizing the curve of your face. He stared, taking you in like this. At his mercy.

Finally, he leaned in and captured your mouth in a soft kiss, heartbreakingly loving. You responded eagerly, blossoming beneath his touch and bracing your hands on the broad plane of his chest. Your fingers curled in the fleece that lined his coat.

You kissed back with near-desperate urgency, shamelessly showing him how touch-starved you’d become. Dating was pointless when Keigo stole your whole heart every time you showed up to work.

The quiet press of his tongue had your jaw going slack in his hands. Your kiss went needy all at once, and he licked into your mouth with a hunger behind his movements that you never anticipated sensing from him.

You broke from him first, turning your cheek to him as your lungs burned. Your mouth was swollen, and you gasped greedily for whatever stale air lingered between you. He grabbed your chin and forced your eyes back to his.

His gaze was fearsome. Ravenous. You were powerless beneath it.

You combed your fingers through his hair like you’d always wanted to, settling your palm at the nape of his neck. Your own voice was nearly unrecognizable, nothing more than a feral growl.

“Get in the back.”

Hawks took one look at the narrow gap between his seat and yours and sat up, nudging the driver’s side door open. He climbed eagerly into the road and then back into the back seat, settling in the center with his legs and wings splayed wide.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to wiggle out of your boots and pants and slam dunk everything into the foothold of the passenger’s seat. You climbed over the center console in your underwear and settled into his lap.

Even though you had to bow your head against the cushioned ceiling, it was a holy sensation. Your thighs settled perfectly into the crooks of Keigo’s legs, and his hands slid so naturally over the curves of your hips. It was as if you’d done this before.

You kissed him again, using the weight of your newly boosted height to descend hard and loving against his lips. He grabbed you hard by the ass, drawing you smooth and tight against his hips.

“God,” he groaned eagerly into your mouth.

“You’re so. Fucking. Perfect,” you hissed back into his, and he squeezed you harder, breaking his lips from yours to trail a hungry path of kisses along the edge of your jaw. His scruff scratched at your chin just like you imagined it would. You loved him like this- trimmed, unshaven. The rougher, the better.

“Don’t say that,” he purred dangerously close to your ear. “You’ve seen me at my worst.”

You tried not to grin, remembering Keigo barfing over the balcony of the Plaza after one too many charity-benefit martinis. Keigo caked in ooze after cutting open that sludge villain from the inside. Keigo on the verge of tears, just a few minutes ago.

“I still think so,” you pressed, and he smiled against your cheek. His wings, tired and bruised but majestic as ever, stiffened proudly. They were capped firmly by the cramped space that surrounded you, but the feathers that spread across the back seat were sleek and graceful.

You dug your fingertips between his jacket and his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his torso all over. He did his best to shrug it open, but the material was caught up on his wings- no getting it off now.

He wound his hands into the hem of his shirt and tugged it up for you. The skin you could feel by slipping your fingers underneath was all you were going to get.

Not that it mattered to you. It was far more than you’d let yourself so much as picture before. While you felt your way across his heated abdomen, he dipped his head to your pulse point. He scraped the points of his teeth across your tender flesh, making you sigh and shiver. He pressed a hand to the small of your back to keep you close and nibbled all the way down to your neckline, leaving a trail of tiny welts in his wake.

They would fade by morning. Tonight, the feeling was enough.

He glided smooth, tender fingers up your sides. You straightened, letting him wedge your long-sleeved t-shirt up around your shoulders. You had to bend even further and press your forehead awkwardly against his shoulder to wrench it off. Once he peeled the fabric over your head, you tossed it haphazardly toward the front seat. Keigo was already going to work on his fly.

The tender press of his erection had grown apparent by that point, stiff and needing down one thigh of his thick pants. You reached between your legs and palmed it indulgently. There was an answering throb of arousal in the pit of your belly as you felt the shape and thickness of it trapped against his body, and an even stronger one when his hips pressed into your touch and he gave a low rumble of approval.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he crooned. With his pants unfastened, and the bulk of his cock shifted to the stretchy pouch of his undershorts, he slid a fingertip down the plane of your belly and curled two graceful digits between your thighs.

“Are you wet for me yet?” He shot you a deep, lustful stare. You rocked your hips against his fingers, hopeless in resisting the pleasure he offered. Keigo nudged the crotch of your thong easily aside, dipping his middle finger against your slit.

He sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth as you gave a simultaneous yelp of stimulation. When he looked up at you again, he bore a sly little grin. You’d seen it a thousand times before, but never with such desire. And never all for you.

“You’re drippin’, kid.” He arched his palm, slipping that finger slowly upward and easing it inside you. There was no stretch, but the sensation of intimacy- of being felt in such a way by those hands that you’d never dared to fantasize about- was intoxicating in its own right.

Keigo was, apparently, feeling it, too. His eyes were deeply lidded, glazed completely by his own desire. The tip of his cock had found its way over the waistband of his undershorts, weeping shiny precum against his stomach and the bottom of his shirt.

He curled a blunt fingertip inside you, massaging your tender front wall. The feeling rappelled up the column of your spine and brought deep trembles forward. It brought fresh handfuls of wet slick from your depths, gliding down his palm and between his fingers. He took the hints your body offered and rubbed faster, watching the way your expression morphed from desire to pleasure.

“Stop,” you hushed, leaning forward and pushing your lips to his. He drew his hand back from you immediately, settling it on your thigh. The wet little print it left against your skin wasn’t lost on you.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” you replied. “Just ready for you.”

He gave a low, loving little chuckle and shifted beneath you. “Can’t hold out any longer?”

You smiled into his hair. “Don’t want to.”

“Fair enough.” His smile was even, but the tug in his voice betrayed his fraying nerves. It thrilled you to know that you weren’t the only one putting way too much emotional stock in this. It was immensely validating to discover that he’d been anticipating it, too.

He wiggled and squirmed against the backseat, shucking his pants and underwear down over his thighs and letting his cock pop out. It bobbed against his stomach- thicker than you’d imagined- framed by a trimmed scruff of tawny hair that disappeared under his shirt.

“Fuck,” you sighed in spite of yourself.

“I know, right?” He rasped. He reached for you, cupping your jaw. He brought your forehead down to his, giving a weak laugh. “What the hell have we been waitin’ for?”

“We just needed the bottle episode to shove us together,” you giggled. “C’mon, we’re a walking trope right about now.”

“We’re about to become a different trope if you don’t let me fuck you.” It was his turn to play the desperate card. But the ache between your thighs had not dulled, even a little.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft and you lifted your hips. He gave the heated tip a playful little swipe along your slick slit, but his game backfired when both of you let out tight cries of sensation.

You rocked your hips forward, taking his tip eagerly inside. The sensation was toe-curling, made even better by the way he held you tightly against him, nosing at your ear and kissing any patch of skin he could reach.

He brought his free palm to your ass as soon as you were situated, helping you slide the rest of the way onto his cock. With your knees braced on either side of his lap and your feet pressed tightly against the front seat, you let him bottom out. And for a moment, you just sat there.

“Jesus,” Keigo sighed, lolling his head against the seat behind him. You still had your head deeply bowed, trapped in the space that seemed just an inch too tight.

“I…” Your thighs shuffled. Your hips gave a little squirm. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Keigo cracked an eye and lifted his chin, sensing a problem.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just…” Your cheeks went hot. You licked your lips. “I can’t move.”

His gaze cast downward, to the place where you were joined. He took in the press of your thighs, the curve of your neck. He snorted.

“No, you can’t. C’mere, kid, I gotcha.” He planted that palm on your ass again, drawing your hips forward and up, as far as you could take them. Your head and neck bowed with the rest of your back as he draped your upper body over his chest and held you tightly against him.

Then he planted his feet and gave one good, deep thrust. Your innards gave a jerk. Oh, fuck.

“That’s it,” you panted into his ear. He nodded tensely.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “That’s workin’ for ya? Alright, alright. We’ve got this, kid, c’mon. Lemme show you somethin’ good, okay?”

One thrust sent you spiralling. But the rhythm that he dove into- steady, tough, fluid- sent every nerve through your body into meltdown. You were entirely incapable of dealing with such pleasure, combined with the emotions that swirled through your lovestruck brain.

It felt as though you had been holding out needlessly for all this time. Like all the hurt and frustration and heartbreak you shed over him would be evaporated, now that you understood that he wanted you like this, too.

Like that was all there was. You, Hawks, and the free love you could now share.

“I’m n-not-“ Keigo stuttered, piping up after a series of breathless pants and airy groans, “n-not gonna last much longer, kid, you’re… really gonna make me feel it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed back. You looped your arms tightly around his neck, tilting your hips forward. You could feel the barest hint of stimulation when your clit brushed his belly, so you leaned into it- aching for your own release.

His rhythm doubled as the intensity of your pleasure spiked dangerously high, and when you gripped him hard and rocked your hips in time with his, there was a low, warning pull that echoed all the way up to your throat. You were close. Very close.

Your head dropped backward and Keigo leaned forward, drawing his mouth up the vulnerable column of your throat. He panted hard and heavy against your pulse point.

“That’s it, kid, that’s fuckin’ it, baby, oh, God, I’m g-gonna f-fucking… I- shit, I- can’t… fffuck!”

Keigo let a vicious roar tear from his throat as he reached his vibrant peak. His erratic thrusts brought you to a tight little climax, too, and you clung to him and whined and rode through the pleasure as he fucked madly up inside you, spurting messy shots of cum into your depths.

Gravity took hold of his pleasure, dripping it onto his shaft and pooling it in a sloppy mess between you. And when it was all finally over, you collapsed against his body and you both stayed, airless and spent, wrapped tightly around one another.

It was the bright flash of headlights on the back of his neck that brought you to the surface, moments later.

The inside of the car was warm and stuffy and damp. Had you just come in from outside, you might have realized that it reeked of sex. Sweat and breath and fluid and feeling. The windows were near-opaque, fogged by the dampness of your lovemaking.

It was a moment you might have loved to capture, if you weren’t about to be so rudely interrupted.

The light in your rear windshield was bright white and flashing orange. Unmistakable.

“The tow truck,” you wheezed, scrambling off of Keigo’s lap. “Oh, fuck.”

“Get dressed,” he muttered weakly, already scrambling to get himself cleaned up and decent. He was far more dressed than you were, so you did your best to climb back into the passenger’s seat and slide back into your own clothes. You banged your shin hard on the center console, and your head on the ceiling as your body flailed in retaliation. You crumpled into the front seat and nearly kneed yourself in the mouth trying to scramble back into your pants.

By the time you climbed out of the car, fully dressed, with a few additional bruises, Hawks was already standing on the shoulder, talking to the driver. The driver was wagering a few guesses on what might be wrong with the car. Hawks’ eyes had already glazed over.

“Hey,” he greeted, as he spotted you emerging over his shoulder. He introduced you quietly to the driver before the ballcap-wearing, bearded man spoke again.

“Yeah,” he gruffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll give you a lift to garage nearby. It’s kinda late, but he keeps weird hours. I bet he’ll take a look for you, it’s prob’ly an easy fix.”

“That sounds great,” you gushed, clasping your palms together. There was a lot of stiffness settling in around your hips and thighs. You couldn’t be sure if it was a result of the compromising position you’d nearly been discovered in or the whole lot of not moving you’d done for hours before that.

Either way, it felt good to stretch your legs.

“You c’n go ahead and hop in the back,” the driver directed, waving the key that Keigo had apparently already given him in indication. “I’ll get you hooked up, no problem.”

Keigo opened the truck door for you, and you climbed over the passenger’s seat into the back. He followed closely behind you, tugging the door shut and slouching into the opposite side.

You sat in silence; hands clasped between your knees. A confusing air settled between you.

You felt vulnerable and raw and moony. You wanted to hold his hand and curl up to him in the back seat. Kiss his cheeks and tell him how good it was, tell him how much you felt.

For you, though, it could never be that simple. There was no free love for heroes like you.

Pay later, always.

Keigo felt the weight of your gaze. He turned to meet your eyes and shot you a thin smile. You’d seen the look that he’d turned to hide from you, though.

The truck driver climbed into the front seat before words could pass between you. But you didn’t need to hear them to know what they were going to be.

You didn’t need a warning to understand what Monday morning at the agency was going to look like.

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #my hero academia #bnha fanfic

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