#also what happened to tagging smut? like why are we using other terms i fear that's like fanfic 101

[jannieanuary]

loveee the detective work of figuring out if a fic was written by a teenager before reading it

[blissfulip]

Dopamine

on AO3

Viktor x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, dubious science, mostly canon compliant, no use of y/n, chemist!reader, eventual smut, masturbation

Cw: Allusion to sexual themes, just general bickering on this one

Words: 1.8k

[A/N: I know this one took forever, sorry about that lmao, tags and content warnings to be updated in each chapter, updates weekly(ish). (also, let me know if you want to be tagged in fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Previous Next

Chapter 5: Rise to the occasion

“Wait,Viktor—” You said, trying to catch up to him since he stormed out of the Hextech lab, “We can’t just walk back in there together as if nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“I’m talking about us doing something well-nigh against academy rules; they will ask questions.”

“Oh, eh—you go in first."

The opportunity to counter was stolen from you and substituted by the cold touch of Viktor’s hands upon your back, jostling your body effortlessly through the library door. He came in behind you shortly after, and you thought the interval in between both of you walking in was not long enough to make a dent in the opinion of everyone watching.

“The interval in between both of us walking in was not long enough to make a dent in the opinion of everyone watching.”

“No one gives a hoot about where we might have gone; stop concerning yourself with their opinion."

It was virtually an ambuscade. When you sat back right where your book had been left and Viktor was on the chair opposite you, a friend and a foe together in liue of curiosity came without a warning and joined you. Asher seemed increasingly more annoyed than Lara, whom you suspected was simply thirsty for some quality gossip.

“So… you snuck out together, where to?” She asked with a shit-eating grin creeping up across her face.

“The dorms.” You astonishingly managed to answer in unison.

“Whose?” Asher shot at you immediately after, not leaving any time for thinking.

“Listen you—” Viktor started, and you were sure his intentions were going to take him somewhere he’d regret, so you interjected.

“We just needed to get some of our work instruments; it's not a big deal,” you said awkwardly.

“I thought your dorm was on the west wing; why did you go together?” Lara questioned you (and correctly, alas).

“You know what they say: ‘you shouldn’t count your birds before you hit them with a stone’.” You said, in the most deadpan way you could find in you.

“She needed help choosing which one of the books would be better for the presentation she is planning, and I needed help carrying some of the heavier volumes. We…killed two birds with one stone.” He said, entirely unconvinced but long resigned.

“Right, and you accepted his help with your work?” Said Asher with a cynical eyebrow raise.

“Well, the arrogance, fear of public speaking, long-term sickly obsession with work, and his careless neglect of social cues make up for an almost tolerable knowledge of many useful subjects.”

Viktor looked at you with knitted brows, his mouth agape, as if he at some point had the intention of saying something but gave up on it as the hint of faint praise in your statement made him befuddled enough to not know what to say.

“Uh, fine, just let us know you’ll be out next time; we have to make the week one report for Heimerdinger, and you two were nowhere to be found for like an hour."

“We could’ve been here earlier, but as you are both aware, she is chronologically challenged.”

"Wha—we were running against the clock because someone had to stop by the restroom on our way back.” You said, the pitch of your voice was getting higher as the irritation grew.

“I wonder why.”

“I know why, and I don’t particularly understand why you are saying it like it was my fault.”

By that point, both Asher and Lara, after sharing a look of reproach with each other, had quietly stood up and gone back to their respective work tables, leaving the two of you to quarrel in private.

“I’m sure in hindsight you can see clearly that dragging me into a small closet was regrettably ill-advised; you have such a talent for slip-ups that one could almost think you do it on purpose.”

“You think I wanted you to rise to the occasion, on purpose?” You said in a slightly mocking tone.

“You are certainly taking the opportunity to rag on me because of it.”

“If I wanted to make fun of you for that, I would've done it on the way here, Viktor, and just so you know, if I wanted to be the cause of your late-afternoon wood, a cleaning closet wouldn’t be my choice of scenery.”

“Stop calling it those names; it’s horrid—in fact, just quit talking about it; it’s giving me a tension headache."

"Oh, I apologize. Am I being too silly about the thing that you just reminded me about? I’ll make sure to talk about you b-o-n-e-r more solemnly in the future."

“I’m sorry if I thought you’d be able to take things seriously; that wasn’t my intention.”

“I am. I can take things so seriously that I will go back to my work over there, where I don’t have to hear you sniffle every two seconds, the heel of your shoe clanking on the floor, and your pen clicking repeatedly.” You said with a sour expression as you removed his journals from your bag and walked over to the other side of the library.

“Choice of scenery; who does she think she is?" Viktor mumbled quietly to himself before noticing the unintentional clicking of his pen and quietly putting it down on the table with an almost imperceptible pout.

----------------------------------------------

Both the second and third meetings, as well as the halfway report with Heimerdinger, went sufficiently well, with your own presentation already in the final stages. It had been a particularly lazy morning; your eyes had nearly not opened, pushed closed by the heavy lids of a sleepless night, and the burgeoning symptoms of what you suspected could turn into the flu, when you decided to skip the last meeting and give your speech the finishing touches in the comfort of your own bed.

Since everything had been finished and you figured everyone would assume you were sick or had other commitments, you didn't tell anybody, hoping your absence would be disregarded. You soon learned that was a misjudgment on your part when you heard someone knock on the door to your dorm room well into the afternoon.

 “I can’t believe you got sick too!” Lara said as soon as you cracked the door open.

“Too?”

“Cirian is terribly sick as well; there must be some sort of epidemic!”

“I’m sorry… who?” 

“Cirian, from Biology.” She said, absentmindedly, as she scrambled in the kitchen for something, “Where do you keep your mugs? I’ll brew you some tea.”

"Ah, yes, top left.” So that’s his name. “I’m quite alright, though; I just needed some rest.”

“That’s good to hear because Heimerdinger said you and Viktor would have to fill in for him.”

“You have to be kidding me.” You said throwing your body back on your bed dramatically.

“I thought you’d be ecstatic,” she said as she came back with two mugs and a puzzled expression, to which you responded with one to match. "Well, you’d have an excuse to spend more time with him.”

“And why on Heimerdinger’s fluffy mustache would I want that?”

"Well, you two are dating, no?”

"No, we’re fucking not. Where did you get that idea?”

“You’re pulling my leg now, come on." She said with a small chuckle, and when you did not laugh but looked at her with concern, she continued. “Well… He seemed to be quite into you that day you were at my place, and you were very flirty.”

“I was drunk!” You said trying to defend yourself and trying to ignore what she had said about him being into you; it wasn’t a thought you wanted to consider at that moment.

“Fair, but then, I thought all that banter you two have was just playful bickering.”

“It’s most certainly not; I despise him, and he hates me with a passion.”

“With a passion, alright.” She said with a cheeky smirk that she tried to hide by taking a sip of the tea.

“What do you know that I don’t?”

“I know something that neither of you do, apparently. But I  digress." She said, gulping the last bit of tea and leaving the mug on the sink before turning back to you. “I’d go talk to Heimerdinger before he leaves for the day, if I were you."

She left shortly after, leaving you to ruminate about more than one of the things that were said.  She couldn’t possibly be making any sense, could she? Perhaps you should have asked what she meant by Viktor being ‘into you’ that night, but then again, you had noticed a slight change in his physiognomy.

You weren’t as drunk as you claimed to be, and it was this small change—the blush all over his face when he saw you—that made you look at him through your eyelashes so suggestively. It was the small gasp hitched on his throat that made you swing your hips when you walked slowly to where he stood. It was his white knuckles and his fingers clasped together in a tight fist around his vest that made you lower your voice into a purr when you said his name. You wanted to provoke him; his reaction was so akin to one of fury that you relished the possibility of making him hate you more.

There was no reason to bend over the table to write, not in the way you did, at least. You just wanted to, although you still tried to convince yourself that it had the same motivations as everything else you had done that night.

If you didn't know of further proof that backed up Lara's theory (which she herself was unaware of), it would have been reasonable to conclude that she had made an unfortunate misinterpretation of the situation. You caught yourself grinning at the memory of it—how you had been enjoying the scent of Viktor’s perfume and the feeling of his chest pressing against you—even before you noticed what the proximity of your bodies was doing to him.

Raise to the occasion was such a good one; he really can’t appreciate a good joke.

”B-o-n-e-r” You spelled it out loud to yourself with a hearty chuckle.

And even after you did notice it, a smug little voice in your head was telling you to lean closer, to see how far you could take it before he either said something unspeakably rude to you or took it the opposite way, but you had to be circumspect. You were the picture of practicality, yet he still had the gall to get angry at you. 

My fault…ha. If I had been doing it on purpose, that closet would’ve become too small for what he’d want to do with—

You had to physically shake that thought away and remind yourself that regardless of how fun it was to mess with him, Viktor was still incredibly insufferable to work in the same vicinity as, let alone with, so it’d be better to talk to Heimerdinger and get this whole debacle sorted out.

You did, however, spend the entirety of the way there thinking about the scent of saffron and leather.

[intothehawkseyes]

"Let me show you some things" / (N.SFW) Mihawk and Fem!Reader

i wrote this overnight. well i have some one shots with mihawk to write (some are ongoing) so i will be posting here soon.

so for now i hope you like it =) and if you like it let me know if you want me to write more of this scenario

WARNINGS: smut, (kind of) dirty talk, vaginal fingerig, oral sex (reader receiving), (kind of) knife play, corruption kink (not sure about this kink tho)

(the same image of the other blog but it's ok)

tag: @portgaslari 🌸

It was late when you arrived on Kuraigana Island. You docked the boat and made your way to the castle entrance. As usual, everything was dark and you had to sharpen all five of your senses so you wouldn't bump into a wall or trip over something and cause yourself some injury.

You walked carefully through the corridors towards your room, and when you got there, you noticed that someone was standing by the door, as if waiting for you. With eyes accustomed to the pitch, you recognized the imposing silhouette of your landlord.

"Is this time to get home?" was the first thing you heard uttered by that deep sexy voice of his, leaving you with butterflies in your stomach.

"I had an autograph session and it delayed my return too much because there were twice as many people as we expected," you answered truthfully, not understanding why Mihawk was questioning the time you returned home, since it wasn't something extraordinary to happen.

And, he has never shown any interest in your life or in you. Even if you lived under the same roof, you paid for it. He charged you rent precisely because you had a successful career and were very well paid. You even complained about being charged at the time.

"You don't help on the farm and you rarely wash the dishes.. No one is here to serve you, you lazy little idol," he said at the time, as you lay on the couch waiting for your nail polish to dry.

"You don't charge Zoro and Perona!", you tried to argue, getting a look of contempt from him, which hurt your ego a little.

"They help me and also have nowhere to go, unlike you who only sleep or go out to parties and come back whenever you want. And when you're at home, you're just taking care of your appearance"

"It's still not fair! You know it's my appearance that pays my bills!" You pouted, in a failed attempt to change his mind, even though you knew he was adamant in the word.

"If you're not satisfied with my terms and conditions, you can leave," he said menacingly close to you, cupping your chin with his thumb and forefinger.

That said, he left you gaping behind, and humiliated too. But his touch still burned on your skin, reminding you why you came there of your own free-will.

Back in the present moment, a candle flame flickered at the end of the corridor precariously illuminating the entire length of it and reaching up to where he was, causing his eye color to take on a very surreal amber hue, making you fearful to look at them.

"And was that good, Lil Singer?" he asked in a distinct tone of voice that you didn't remember seeing him use on any occasion.

"It was tiring, I need a shower," you said, kind of trying to shake off his inquisitive gaze. In fact, you wanted to run away from there because just his presence completely baffled you. You were very well aware of the latent physical attraction you had for him, which was even the reason for you to open your wallet and deliver a sum of money into his hands every month so that you could stay there (and in his presence) for a while more, and also the growing passion that insisted on burning in your chest day after day.

And the new nickname he gave you only got worse, he just used to call you "Idol Girl", similar to the "Ghost Girl" he used to refer to Perona. Now he had spiced up what you really did, it wasn't something vague anymore like he didn't give a fuck to it. He really knew that you were a singer and not just someone frivolous who did cute poses in front of a camera as you were used to hearing from people who didn't know your work.

To your surprise, and also your despair, he reached a hand to the back of your head and ruffled your hair.

"Your hair is damp," and again he caught your lie.

You had actually showered before returning home. You went to the autograph session on an island close to where you lived, so it was a quick trip and there was a bathroom there, which made it a lot easier for you as all you wanted was to get home and go straight to sleep.

But Mihawk had other plans for you.

"You can't go three minutes without telling a lie, what a petulant, bad girl"

It was unintentional for you to have closed your eyes when you felt his fingers caress your cheek. The touch was warm, but the trail he left was hot as an ember. "So bad I would like to punish," he continued as he slid the digits to your lips.

Your heart was racing and your knees were starting to weaken. You feared losing your balance and falling, but you knew he wouldn't let it happen, and just the thought of him holding you around the waist made you want to test it. But you decided not to because you didn't want him to stop touching your skin.

"It's not intentional..." you said in a thin voice, still with your eyes closed.

"No? You always have these lips pulled back in a sarcastic smile, and these eyes that are now closed always glow with mischief," he rebutted you, pressing his fingers to your lips more.

You tried to control your breathing, but it became less and less possible with his dangerous approach. You couldn't see anything, but you felt the heat emanating from his body making you aware that he was getting closer and closer to you.

"I'm feeling you cornered... Where's that brave woman who always has a sharp answer on the tip of her tongue every time I say something? Or where did the one who doesn't miss an opportunity to tell me insinuating things go?", and he kept cornering you.

It was true that you flirted with him a lot, but it was because you felt you were not reciprocated. You always spoke loud and clear about how attractive you found him or that he was the only man who could do what he wanted with you, but it was because he never showed any sign that he liked the shit you said or cared about the suggestive things you said near his ear in the late afternoon while he was reading the newspaper and drinking wine.

However, you were surprised that he was reminding you of these things. And that was making you completely embarrassed and nervous, because it wasn't a lie at all what you said. You lied about silly things, but used irony and double meanings to tell the truth about your feelings for him.

You only managed to mutter a few unintelligible words.

"Open these eyes and face me, I want to know where all that courage is," he ordered, and you shivered.

Fearful, you opened your eyelids slightly and felt your blood run cold in your veins at the sight of him so close to you. It looked like everything had cleared, even though the lighting remained the same.

"...Mihawk..." was all you managed to say and you saw the moment his jaw locked and his eyes sparkled brightly.

"That's what I want to hear when I've put you in your place", he said before holding tight to your waist and making it stick to his strong body, you only had time to let out a moan and practically soften in his arms, letting him lead you into your room.

And he took you to your dressing table, where he left you leaning there.

Your room was lit by the light radiating from the chandeliers, so it was possible to see him better, but he was standing with his arms crossed in front of you, looking at you fully, from head to toe, which made you even more shy. His gaze was intimidating by nature, but unlike that usual coldness, they now glowed differently. Dracule Mihawk was in front of you looking at you with an expression of pure desire. He wanted you, it was almost palpable. You didn't know whether to feel ashamed or just play his game.

But you wanted him to lead you, so you just stayed in the same place, but straightened your posture, making your curves accentuate more.

And he approached you slowly until he was glued again.

"You look great in this dress, too bad I'll have to take it off to get access to what interests me," he whispered in your ear as his fingers found the side zipper of the garment you were wearing. You heard the sound of the zipper opening and shivered as the air found the skin that was previously guarded by the fabric. Afterwards, he slid the dress down your body, leaving you naked from the waist up. You shivered all over the hungry way he looked at your body. His eyes in the candlelight were almost orange, like lava.

He ran his tongue over his own lip to moisten it, without taking his eyes off your nudity. He seemed to wonder where to start.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" he asked you after a moment of silence. "Answer the truth, because if you lie now you might regret it later. I'm not kidding."

You felt a new twist in your stomach and your panties were already heavy with soaking wet.

"Yes…" you replied as soon as you cleared your throat.

"I could imagine...", the shadow of a smile seemed to take his lips, but it disappeared quickly.

Even though you were thrown at him, no man had ever touched your body precisely because you didn't like the idea of having someone you didn't like touching you. And since you've liked Mihawk all along, you've actually spent the years wishing only he would touch your body. What went against your fame, because all men judged by the lyrics of your songs and your almost obscene choreography that you went out with anyone.

But Mihawk could read everything that was hidden. Unbeknownst to you, he had already picked up on your lack of experience, no matter how hard you tried to act like a sexually uninhibited woman.

"... Then I can't have you the way I want" he said with some regret in his voice. "But never mind, I'm in no hurry to taste you," he finished as he closed the tiny distance between the two of you, taking your lips in a thirsty kiss.

You tried to follow his rhythm, but it was difficult because there were so many sensations to pay attention to. He explored your mouth with thirst and sucked on your lips like they were the tastiest thing in the world. And during the kiss you were able to feel the effect you had on him by the erection against your belly and it made you even more horny.

The skin of his chest against your breasts was one more thing and made you moan against his mouth, making him squeeze your waist and lift you up to put you on the dresser. With one leg on either side of his waist, you felt his hard cock against the fabric of your panties, and you moaned harder.

When he ended the kiss, you could already feel your face burning and your lips swollen.

Your chest rose and fell unevenly as you tried to regulate your breathing, which made your breasts follow and then he took the opportunity to pay attention to them. Mihawk held them tightly with his hands and squeezed them lightly, then released them and played with the nipples, sending a rush of arousal between your legs and making you even wetter. You tilted your head back and involuntarily spread your legs further apart in clear invitation to him.

And he very willingly accepted. You had your eyes closed when you felt his fingers run over your pussy, over your panties, and you heard a grunt of satisfaction coming from him.

You were reveling in the feeling his fingers gave you until he called you by your name, which made you immediately look at him.

It was the first time he had treated you in such a personal and intimate way.

"Why are you with your eyes closed? I want you to be looking at me when I make you come," he was inquisitive.

And you obeyed.

He even played with your nipples a little while the fingers of his other hand threatened to penetrate the fabric of your panties and have direct contact with your wetness.

You moaned in frustration and moved your hips to get more in touch, almost asking him to touch you right away, but he held you firmly in place and gave you a reproachful look, which you understood you should wait his time if you didn't want to feel his wrath. Even though you really wanted him to punish you, you were afraid he'd just walk out of your room and leave you there, all confused and frustrated. So you stayed quiet.

And he was satisfied, and went back to what he was doing, but this time he tortured you more, just running his fingers over your groin, not even coming close to the pulse point and the hot, drenched entrance that begged for him.

But the feeling was good and it made you even more excited, but you couldn't contain the moan when you felt it under the fabric of your panties, his finger stopping right on top of your clit and pressing it, making you contract and bring your hand to the his strong arm where you scratched. And he really liked your reaction, as he simply pulled his finger away again to repeat the act, but this time making a second finger insinuate inside your pussy, but only passing through the wet entrance.

You only felt your toes tense when you felt them tingle, but it was impossible to keep all your nerves intact in the face of so many new sensations being presented to you.

But you moaned in frustration when Mihawk suddenly pulled away, not understanding anything. You looked at him questioningly, but he didn't say anything to you, he just removed the Kogatana from his neck, leaving you even more confused.

But you understood his intent when you saw him peel off the bottom of the piece, revealing the sharp blade.

"Do you like these panties?" he asked you when he was close to you again.

"No..." you replied in a whisper.

"Fine, this is in my way and I'll have to cut it," he replied as he slid the tip of the cool blade down the skin of your thigh until it reached your crotch and then met the fragile fabric of your panties, which in question seconds was nothing more than a shredded rag.

Now you were completely naked for him, and he sported an even hungrier look.

He left the small sharp object beside you before pulling away slightly from you, making you feel completely exposed and vulnerable to him.

You wanted to close your legs and cover your nakedness, but his longing eyes held you in place, holding you the same way he had left you.

And he continued looking at every bit of your body, enjoying everything that was being offered to him.

And when he came back between your legs, he gripped your thighs hard, digging his fingers painfully into your flesh, making you moan in pain and lust. You realized that this gesture was his attempt to control himself, because now his eyes were glowing furiously, he looked like an untamed beast and you felt a wave of heat come over your body as you realized that only you naked had been able to make him like that. You hadn't even left the place or done anything significant to get him in that way.

You really enjoyed knowing you had as much effect on him as he did on you.

"If you knew what's on my mind right now, you'd run out of here and never come back, woman," he finally said in a husky voice in your ear, almost menacing. But fear was all you didn't feel. And in an act of courage and even stupidity you provoked the beast even more.

"I'm here for you to do whatever you want with me."

You saw him take a deep breath and close his eyes for the first time, trying to seek rationality.

"Once I've fucked you the way I want, I'll have no mercy," he promised and you shivered. You knew he was a man of his word. "But for now I'm going to take it easy so I don't scare you, although I know it's going to be hard to hold back so I don't lose control and end up hurting you," he said and ran his fingers over your lips after letting go of your thighs. And the spot where he squeezed burned, you knew it would form bruises there.

He kissed you again slowly, even though you felt him hold back. And during the kiss he walked with his hands all over your body until he passed his hands on your thigh, very close to your wet cunt, where he slipped a finger inside with ease and you moaned when you felt him deep inside you. At first he left his finger still there as he enjoyed the sweet taste of your lips, but without warning he started moving his finger inside you, as if he were trying to pull something out and you twitched against him. But he didn't mind and inserted a second finger, leaving a slight burning sensation, but it soon faded and made you moan louder. Now with two fingers inside you, he started the in and out movements, causing an erotic sound due to the humidity. You moaned against the kiss and he swallowed all your moans and made you make even more noise when he squeezed your left breast with your free hand, making circles with your fingertip around the areola, sending you more loads of excitement into your clit and making you almost close your legs, just sticking them with his hips.

His finger movements began to increase and the thrusts got firmer and stronger, hitting you deep and eliciting more moans.

When you thought you couldn't get any more turned on, he used his thumb to tease your clit which made you part your lips to let out a loud moan and arch your back and your breasts get even closer to his face. You knew he wouldn't like that under any other circumstance, but as you exposed the pretty bust, he didn't mind and simply accepted the invitation, burying his face in the valley between your breasts and reveling in the gift. He sucked and bit down on everything in front of him, turning you into a mess of moans and pleas.

He turned his eyes to you and liked what he saw, you completely surrendered to him was all he needed to feel his erection ache inside his pants. But he couldn't do anything about it, as for now he could only feel you with his fingers and his mouth.

When your first orgasm came, he was sucking on your neck and working his fingerprint on your clit and his fingers deep inside you, curling at the tips and scraping the spongy wet wall. You shivered and moaned loudly as you called his name, making him smile with satisfaction.

You were a good girl, after all, and that deserved an award – but you didn't need to know you were being awarded.

He withdrew his fingers from inside you, unglued his lips from your neck and was running his nose over your entire body, enjoying the wonderful smell that exhaled from you, until he reached that area that throbbed with recent orgasms. And without waiting for the spasm to pass, he ran his tongue across the area, making you gasp and bring your hands to his hair, pulling it hard. He grunted in response and reciprocated by sticking his tongue in your entrance to sip everything you had to offer. He stayed there for some time before returning to the clitoris where he stimulated it with the muscle more times to make you come over and over again. When you couldn't take it anymore and couldn't even pronounce his name correctly, he dropped you and stood in front of you, running his fingers through the welts you had left on his neck the times you scratched him in yet another orgasm .

You even feared he would do something about it, but you were surprised with him picking you up gently and taking you to the bed where he laid you gently.

"Now sleep well," was the only thing he said before heading to the dressing table to pick up the Kogatana and put it back around his neck.

"And you? Let me make you come too," you asked, already getting up.

"No," his tone stopped you. "You're going to make me come, yes, but not today. That was just the beginning, and I'll come to collect you for the debt you acquired from me", and with that, he walked towards the door where he left and closed it, without saying goodbye .

You kept looking at the place, now the morning light was already illuminating the room better, when you heard the familiar voice of the other resident of the castle.

"What were you doing in her room?" Perona asked, but you didn't hear an answer from him. "Hey! I asked you a question!" and nothing again. And then you only heard her mumble that she would ask you later what had happened.

After that, everything was absolutely silent, except in your head that was noisy due to what had just happened and now that you realized that you were fucked by the fingers of Dracule Mihawk running the risk of being caught by Perona or Zoro since the door was open all the time.

[andypantsx3]

war paint | 3 | captain

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters

summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)

tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut

The first few weeks of your enlistment were inarguably the worst you’d ever lived.

If not on patrol, soldiers were awakened before dawn every morning and marched to the training pitch behind the castle where you drilled in different formations with various weapons. You were run through exercises that seemed designed to drop anyone with less than iron willpower, then set to menial tasks like cleaning the barracks or repairing any damaged weapons or equipment. The midday meal was the first break in your day, followed immediately by training in basic first aid and survival skills, then by more weaponry drills that took you until the dinner bell.

Between your extra training with Nishimura and the time you had to invest in sneaking off to use the lavatory or a spot to bathe in private, you were hardly resting. Even the time you did spend bathing, you spent in a constant state of anxiety, wondering if a random bunk check would reveal you missing. You hadn't chanced more than a wild, lightning fast scrub down in weeks.

At the end of the first week, you’d collected your enlistment fee with hands blistered from sword work, and it took you longer than you’d ever admit to count it out, stopping every few seconds when your eyes drifted involuntarily shut. You’d been happy to send it off to your family, though, with a short note that told them you were doing well.

Which was, of course, a lie.

You weren’t exactly the most popular among the kingsguard thanks to the show you’d put on when you arrived, and you had the misfortune of dorming in the same room as Nishimura. Despite Captain Bakugou’s warnings, he’d gone out of his way to make life uncomfortable for you, slipping bugs into your sheets and loudly discussing you in less than flattering terms well within earshot.

More than that, you were terrible at nearly everything and it was obvious. Kaminari helped you to the best of his ability, and so did Sero, the guard who’d poked fun at your age at the castle gates. Neither of them, however, could make up for the fact that as a woman, you were somewhat smaller and slighter, and hadn’t had the same opportunities building up muscle mass as men your age. Every sword felt like an anvil in your hands; lifting a mace like hauling a boulder.

The only thing you seemed to excel at was the first aid trainings. You found yourself listening with rapt attention as the court physician walked your battalion through wrapping injuries and cleaning wounds, noting which easily obtained herbs and flowers could slow blood loss or ease pain. Kaminari was always eager to pair with you during the practical exercises, as you were among the least likely to accidentally poison him with the wrong herbs. It was gratifying to be good at at least one thing.

Your favorite part of castle service, though, was the patrols.

After your first month of training, you’d been assigned thrice-weekly patrol routes and found that it was like wading into a cool river on a hot day. Patrols got you out of whichever drills were happening at the time and took you out from under Captain Bakugou’s purview and behind the relative safety of the castle walls.

Though monotonous, you only had to walk a specific route throughout the castle with a partner, and you were rarely supervised. On your first patrol with Kaminari, you also found that patrols were - for him - more of an opportunity to make social calls.

“L/N,” he said, nearly the minute you stepped inside the castle walls. “We’ve got an excellent route today.”

You raised an eyebrow in question.

He chuckled, gesturing you along. “Come on, our first stop is right over here.”

“Our first stop?” you echoed.

Kaminari grinned and grabbed your sleeve, pulling you into a side door. On the other side sat a cramped office stuffed with bright fabrics and colorful spools of thread. A woman with shocking pink hair hunched over a spill of pretty silk, working tiny, perfect stitches into the fabric.

“Mina!” Kaminari boomed and the woman sat up with a smile.

“Denki!” she said, reaching over to hug him. “It’s been a while since patrol took you over here! I have so much to tell you!”

Kaminari laughed and pulled you forward. “Me too. Mina, this is L/N! He lied about his age and wormed his way into the kingsguard.”

You whirled on him. “I’m old enough to be in the guard!”

The absolute wrong gender, but definitely the right age.

He gave you an innocent look. “I’m just passing on the popular opinion.”

Mina chuckled. “Oh, ignore him, L/N. We all do. It’s quite nice to meet you.”

Kaminari whined but Mina just laughed again, redirecting his attention to the dress she was making, saying it was for the princess-to-be. Apparently, Prince Shouto’s bride had been a kitchen girl that Mina and Denki had both been acquainted with, and they talked eagerly of the wedding they’d both been invited to and the food that would be there.

“Think old Bakugou will show up?” Kaminari asked at one point, making himself comfortable at Mina’s workstation. Mina met this with a shrug.

You gave them both a questioning look. “Why would the captain be invited?”

Kaminari turned to you conspiratorially. “Captain Bakugou and the prince grew up together - they’re something like old friends. Plus, Bakugou’s a marquis, he’s probably got an invitation just for political reasons.”

“He’s a marquis?” you asked. That explained the Lord appellation on your contract, then. “Why join the palace guard if he’s titled?”

Kaminari shrugged. “Probably not enough opportunity to torture innocent civilians in Musutafu. If he wants to hold the land, he’s got to be nice to them, hasn’t he?”

You grimaced, thinking of all the drills he’d run you through since you’d gotten here. That definitely wouldn’t endear him to anyone.

“Speaking of our favorite captain,” Mina said conversationally, “I heard he’s been meeting with the prince more often than usual.”

“Wedding stuff?” Kaminari asked, but Mina shook her head.

“As if he’d touch that mushy shit with a ten foot pole. He wouldn’t know romance if it pranced in front of him wearing a soldier’s uniform. No, I heard it’s because a bunch of papers and other valuables went missing from the prince’s study last Thursday night.”

Your mind wandered back to last Thursday, wondering if you’d been on patrol when it had happened. You only dredged up a memory of snuggling down into your bunk, relieved that Nishimura and his goon friend Hasumi were out on their own patrol and your bed was thankfully bug free.

Kaminari’s eyebrows went up. “Important papers?”

Mina raised a thin shoulder. “From what I heard, it seemed to be a weird selection. A couple letters, some wedding arrangements. But a land treaty disappeared as well. They think it’s a spy.”

Kaminari whistled. “Bet old Baku is pissed this happened on his watch. No wonder he’s been in such a foul mood lately.” He turned to you. “Don’t you think he’s been a little too happy when one of us gets clipped by the wrong edge of the sword?”

You thought back to his threats in the mess hall. “He seems normal enough to me.”

Kaminari mulled that over. “I suppose he’s usually that awful.”

Mina smiled. “Talking of which, shouldn’t you be getting on with your patrol? I’d hate to find out what he’d do if he found out you were in here gossiping.”

A spike of panic stabbed through your heart and you grabbed Kaminari’s sleeve. “Excellent observation, Mina. We really should be going. It was wonderful to meet you!”

You tugged Kaminari roughly back through the doorway. You thought it was a testament to his own fear of the captain that he went willingly enough.

The rest of your patrol proved uneventful, however, Bakugou thankfully never being alerted to your social stop. Your patrol ended just after the dinner bell and you ate quickly in the mess hall, then rushed off to the training pitch.

Today was also the last day of your punishment for fighting in the mess hall on your first day, and you thought dreamily of all the rested muscles and extra time you’d have on your hands once extra training ended. You might be able to sneak off to bathe at a normal time of the evening instead of in the dead of night, starting tomorrow.

Your good cheer faded quickly, however, as you arrived at the pitch to find Captain Bakugou there.

Nishimura was just behind you and he stopped short at your side. “Where’s our usual drill officer?” he demanded.

A horrible grin cut into Bakugou’s features, bearing his sharp canines. He looked like a wolf ready to tear into a nest of rabbits, and your stomach flipped. “Ojiro’s off duty tonight. Thought I’d see if you’d learned your lesson myself.”

You inhaled sharply, and Bakugou caught it, laughing. “Thought I’d forgotten about you two fucks, didn’t you?”

You lowered your gaze and took a deep, steadying breath. Just tonight. You just had to get through tonight and you would be free.

Nishimura seemed to steel himself as well, sweeping a hand through his dark hair. “What are our drills tonight, Captain?”

Bakugou’s crimson gaze flickered over you both. “Fight me.”

You looked up, startled. “Fight you?”

He looked you over disdainfully. “You’re a goddamn soldier, you telling me you can’t fight? Didn’t seem to stop you in the mess hall.”

You bit your lip, but Nishimura stepped forward, that violent gleam in his eye. “Yes, sir.”

Bakugou grinned. “I’m gonna fucking wipe this field with you.”

Nishimura didn’t dare correct his superior, but his hand went quickly to his sword and he leaned forward eagerly. Before you even had time to blink, the clash of metal rang out across the field and Bakugou had Nishimura on the defensive, pushing him back into step with you. You hadn’t even seen him go for his sword.

Swearing, you fumbled for your own blade, whipping it out just in time to catch the swipe Bakugou aimed at your side. You stumbled under the force of the strike, tripping backwards.

Nishimura growled and lunged again, but Bakugou was faster, parrying his attack and following up with his own. A low chuckle escaped him as he caught Nishimura with the back edge of his blade, winding him and sending him staggering back.

Bakugou whipped back to you, targeting you with another fast swipe that you barely caught in time. The strength of his blow almost knocked your sword from your grasp, shuddering up your arm and leaving you gasping.

“What the fuck are you in the kingsguard for if you won’t fight?” he snarled. Another swipe came your way and again you barely caught it. Your heart beat frantically in your chest and you tried to duck out of range of his arm.

“Come back here, pretty boy,” Bakugou taunted, advancing on you, but Nishimura cut in with another attack. Bakugou whipped the edge of his blade up again, faster than your eye could follow, catching the strike. You caught the curl of that savage grin on the corner of his mouth again before he moved, ducking under Nishimura’s arm and twisting his blade. It slid along the edge of Nishimura’s sword with an awful screech, then caught the hilt at an angle, ripping it straight out of Nishimura’s grip.

A kick from Bakugou had Nishimura on the ground and just as quickly he twisted back around, stalking back towards you. Your heartbeat quickened in fear as he approached, crimson gaze burning into you.

“You don’t belong here if you can’t face me,” he ground out. “Fight me or I’m discharging you. That’s a fucking order.”

You trembled, but lifted your blade. You needed the money to send back to your parents. It was too early to be discharged - if you left now, they’d have no way of clearing the debt.

You thrust your sword forward but Bakugou dodged easily. You quickly flicked through all the maneuvers you’d been drilling the past month, and followed up with a lunge. Bakugou grinned, flicking it aside with a quick twist of his wrist.

“Put your back into it, shrimp,” he demanded.

You gripped your sword with both hands, bringing it down on him with all the force you had in you. Bakugou deflected, and before you knew what was happening, your sword was rent from your grasp, skidding along the dirt of the pitch behind you.

The flat of Bakugou’s sword came up to tip your chin up to him.

“Pathetic,” he spat, “you fight like a damn woman.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. Bakugou’s sharp eyes caught it and he smirked. “You gonna punch me, pretty boy?”

You struggled to tamp down the hot anger bubbling up inside you like a spring from the earth. “No, sir.”

He eyed you distrustfully, pressing the flat of his blade into your chin a little harder. “I’d think seriously about what the fuck you think you’re doing here. This is the kingsguard and I don’t need weak little shits like you endangering the royal family or your fellow soldiers.”

You stared back at him, not daring to speak. Your blood rushed in your ears and your heart hammered wildly in your chest.

After a long moment he lowered his blade, sheathing it back at his hip. He looked over at Nishimura, who was delicately picking himself up off the ground.

“Disappointing,” Bakugou said roughly. “I’ve seen enough here. You’re both dismissed - back to your dormitories.”

You nodded, backing away from him. Nishimura stalked off, and you turned and picked your way gingerly back across the field, stopping only to pick up your sword and tuck it back into the belt at your waist. You set off slowly for the barracks, something like hot tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

You didn’t look back, but you swore you could feel a pair of crimson eyes on you as you slipped quietly through the dark.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 5*

See ya'll i'm so sorry this took so long!!!! Warning for this chapter is SMUT, and it's....I mean, really technically Rafael? Also no I didn't go the "full" rape route, the trauma is gonna happen in the next chapter.

Oh yeah also warning this is gonna get darker before it gets happier. Be prepared.

Tag List

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@gibbs274

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@bookishfanfic

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@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

Part 4

Part 6

------

Rafael paced in front of the student theater, dialing your number over and over again. He could hear it ringing over the phone, but-- was that your ringtone?

He stared at the doorway to the lobby where Javi and Gabi were still standing, Gabi’s purse was lit up. She finally noticed it and picked it out of her purse. Her eyes grew wide with shock and as she looked up to see Rafael had caught her, they went wide with fear.

“We gotta go,” Gabi grabbed Javi by the sleeve. “NOW,”

Rafael ran around the side of the building as fast as he could. He may have been getting up there in age, but when he was determined he could do anything. And he was determined to find out why Gabi had your phone. He met them at the side door as they were coming out.

“WHY do you have Y/N’s phone? Is she--is she even in there?” His face grew white as he slowly put together what was happening.

“I...Um...Well--” Gabi was shit at lying.

“DON’T give me that bullshit, ‘Gabi’,,” Rafael scoffed. “I KNEW you were trouble, god dammit I KNEW it!!” He made fists like he wanted to strangle her.

“Yeah well luckily your girl isn’t as intuitive,” Gabi chuckled.

“You stupid--” He lunged for her, he didn’t care if she was a woman she had you somewhere-- she had you TAKEN somewhere.

“Whoa whoa whoa there abogado, take it easy,” Javi stepped in between the two of them to protect Gabi. “Your girl is in no danger, I promise you that,”

“...Yet,” Gabi muttered with a smile.

“I swear to GOD--” Rafael tried for her again. “If anything happens to her I’ll--”

“You'll what?” Javi was now smirking. “Please, tell me you big bad abogado, tell me what you and your snarky words are gonna do against Nevada’s men and guns?”

“Nevada?” Rafael fell backwards, he felt sick to his stomach. Nevada had you; the most dangerous, notorious, ruthless Drug Kingpin in New York had YOU.

“What does Nevada want with my fiancé?!”

“Obviously to get you to do something, cabron,” Javi pointed out.

“Do what?! I have absolutely nothing he needs!” Rafael shook his hands.

“Let’s just say you and him have a common denominator that he just discovered, and he’d like to exploit that,” Javi smirked.

“Damn Javi, turning me on with that book speak,” Gabi licked her lips seductively.

“I go to night school,” He grinned at her.

“Yeah I’m sure, to mop the hallways,” Rafael rolled his eyes, making Javi punch him in the gut.

“All you need to know is that Nevada has your girl, and if you go to ANY of your cop friends, he’ll know. And he’ll kill her, right on the spot. Trust me Nevada has zero patience cabron, I wouldn’t test him,” He warned Rafael while he was doubled over in pain.

“....And then what?” He stood up, rubbing his stomach.

“And wait for a call from him. I’m sure it’ll be soon,” Javi assured Rafael.

“Yeah after he’s done with her,” Gabi smirked.

“Oh my-- NO. NO You can’t let him--” Rafael began to panic, begging them not to let anything...traumatic happen to you.

“Don’t worry abogado, I’m sure Nevada will take good care of her,” Javi smirked as he punched Rafael in the stomach one last time, leaving him gasping for breath as they made a getaway.

-------

Meanwhile

The limo pulled up in front of the Ritz Carlton. “Rafael” got out first and then took your hand and helped you out of the car. You just stared wide and starry eyed as you walked into the lobby. You had never seen a place so beautiful, so elegant. You never had money to travel ANYWHERE-- you knew your small town in Jersey, and New York City. That’s it. And you’d never stayed in a hotel, let alone a luxurious one.

“Rafa….Wha…Why are we here?” You looked at him with starry eyes.

“....I just thought we’d celebrate the end of your semester, mi amor,” “Rafael” smiled, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“You’re too good to me,” You kissed him, and he once again took it to a whole other level. You’d never seen him this aggressive, you’d never kissed him like this. It was...off.

“Never, carino,” He shook his head as he broke the kiss and took your hand in his as he led you to the front desk.

-----

After checking in, you found yourself walking into the Penthouse Suite of the Ritz Carlton, something you’d never thought you’d be able to say.

“Oh my god, it’s so beautiful!!!” You clapped your hands together and bounced up and down as you immediately started to explore the room.

“Rafael” had to admit, he was a little amused by your excitement over things he’d gotten used to. But this was no pleasure trip, it was strictly business. He needed leverage on that abogado and you were going to give it to him. He marched over to you before you could head into the bathroom to check out the spa. He grabbed you and threw you on the bed aggressively, lust in his eyes.

“Well, somebody wants to get down to business,” You growled seductively.

“You read my mind, Carino,” “Rafael” smirked. “Ah but… first,” He walked over to the overnight bag he had brought and pulled out handcuffs, and a blindfold.

“Um, Raffi--” You nervously giggled. “We’ve um, you’ve never--”

“I thought we might try something a little different tonight, carino,” He licked his lips as he inched towards you, like a cheetah stalking its prey.

“Well, I-- I guess--” You stammered, staring at the objects in his hand. You had never been so...adventurous with anyone, let alone Rafael. “Rafael” could tell you were more than a little nervous, but he needed to get that blindfold on you. He may have Rafael’s face, but their bodies were more than a tad different. “Rafael” had tattoos on his wrists, and more than a few scars from various assentation attempts and fights. He needed to turn this up.

“Please,” He gave you his sweetest puppy dog pout eyes, before beginning to nibble on your earlobe. He had never done that before, but you were quickly learning it might be your new favorite spot. Time stopped moving, your mind turned off, all you could feel was pleasure as you felt his tongue in your ear, his teeth on the lobe.

“Whatever you want,” You sighed, not knowing what you were allowing.

“That’s exactly what I’d hoped you would say…” He growled as he tied the sash blindfold around your face, pulling it tight. You couldn’t see anything, you were completely at his mercy.

“Rafa….?” You called out to make sure he was still there, as if he would have just blindfolded you and ran out of the room.

“Yes, amante?” You heard his husky voice behind you as you felt your arms being fastened to either side of the headboard.

“Rafael I don’t know about this--” You bit your lip nervously.

“Shut up and let me work,�� He barked, making you wince.

“...What?” You could swear that the voice was different from normal, something about it was more...dark.

“I mean, I thought we’d try...role playing, y’know where I’m a dominant asshole, and you’re my prisoner,” His tone suddenly went back to loving and soft, as he laid a tender hand on your bare stomach,

“Oh I-- I didn’t know you were into that,” You nervously replied.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Y/N,” You heard the husk again. “But you’ll learn tonight,”

You could hear him getting undressed, and then undressing you. Something about it seemed so...wrong. And real.

“Rafa--”

“DON’T call me that,” He growled. “I’m not Rafa anymore, I’m Vada,”

“....Vada?”

“Uh yeah, like-- like Darth Vada,” He joked, making a thick New York Accent saying “Vader”.

“Um, ok ‘Vada’, I don’t think I like--” Before you could protest anymore, Vada’s mouth was on yours in a hungry animalistic kiss. His hands began exploring your body, pulling and prodding every inch of you. Everything was heightened by the darkness of the blindfold, and it was exquisite. His mouth travelled south, biting and kissing every inch of you on the way down. You writhed in pleasure while strapped to the bed, you knew your arms were going to be sore tomorrow.

“Now, be a good little whore and don’t make a SOUND while daddy works, or you’re going to get punished,” You heard the husky voice commanding you.

“A good little what now?” You asked defensively, he had never talked to you this way-- and you weren’t sure you liked it. No matter who he “was.”

“I said QUIET,” The voice grew more cruel, but two fingers went inside you giving you instant absolute pleasure it was impossible to be mad. His digits roamed around inside you like he was digging for treasure. He hit every inch of your walls, flicking your clit harder and harder until you were practically vibrating off the bed. You began to scream, but you felt his mouth over yours before you could.

“WHAT did I say, puta?” The voice barked. “Not a SOUND,”

You usually loved hearing spanish coming out of his mouth, but ‘puta’ didn’t sound like a term of endearment.

“S-Sorry,” You stammered, as he continued to work. He slipped his fingers out and replaced them with his mouth. His oral skills had improved massively in a surprising amount of time, but you weren’t exactly wondering why. His tongue lapped you up like a dog drinking water, he sucked on your clit like it was a lollipop You bucked and spasmed under his mouth, this time biting back screams like hell, it was almost painful.

“Now, mi puta, are you going to come for me?”

“Y-Y-es,”

“NO! You’re NOT,” suddenly everything stopped. There were no more fingers, tongues, nothing going on downstairs, except for a now exceedingly excruciating pain throbbing from your clit-- is this what blue balling felt like?

“Please,” You whimpered, the pain was tormenting. Little did you know, Vada was enjoying every second of your suffering. It was one of his favorite things, watching powerless victims writhe in pain under his god like tongue.

“No, you’re gonna wait for ME,” All of a sudden you felt his dick inside you, pounding you like a rock. He wasn’t his usual, gentle self. He was pulling in and out of you like a jackhammer, and you loved every second of it.

“Now, mi vida,” He whispered as he continued to thrust in and out of you. “Now, you may scream my name,”

“RAFAAEELLLLLL!!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had in your entire life came crashing over you like a tsunami. Suddenly you felt a slap to the side of your face.

“That’s NOT my name!!!” He yelled while he slapped you across the face as he violently shook inside you, the rage seemed to send him over the edge. He pulled out of you and sprayed his white manhood all over your face.

Everything was still and silent for a moment, both of you recovering from the events. It took you several minutes for you to drift back into your body, but when you did-- you realized what he had said. And you also realized you were covered in sticky white cum.

“Ew, Rafa why--” You made a face, trying to shake it off.

“I wanna see you lick it off. Lick off your face like a dirty whore,” The husky voice commanded you.

“Okay it was fun and all, and probably the best sex we’ve ever had, but enough’s enough,” You were starting to get annoyed with the whole “dominatrix” thing.

“....What did you just say?”

“...Yes, fine, okay I guess I’m kinkier than I thought. Because baby that was THE best sex we’ve ever had...maybe in my life,” You giggled.

“Oh,” You could hear a dark, evil chuckle. “Oh carino, you have no idea how happy that makes me to hear you say that,”

“...Why?” You were starting to get really freaked out. You felt the blindfold come off, but you were still bound to the bed. Your eyes took a minute to get used to the light, but when your vision finally focused you saw Rafael--- with arm tattoos?

“....Because I’m not Rafael,” He grinned wickedly.

[marvelfansince08love]

Three’s company

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff x female!Reader 

Word count: God knows like 4000

Warning: NSFW 18+ lots of smut, read at your own risk. Really bad smut writing. 

Prompt 14, 30:  “If this is your attempt at pushing me away, it won’t work” “Come on now dear, Let’s not torture her any longer” - Poly 

A/N: For Vee, I love you and I hope you enjoy! I’ve scrapped this about six times and I still have a love/hate relationship with it. Also feel honoured because this is my first smut fic ever never mind Poly, please be gentle with me lmao. 😂

Thank you @lesbian-deadpool for reading over this and giving me your seal of approval, you the best sister in law ever. What would my gal do without you @missmonsters2 lol 😂x

Tags: @imnotasuperhero @j-does-life @the-enamorando-deity​ 

I do not own these gifs!🖤

Prompts 14, 30 

Have you ever been in love?

 Have you ever been in love with two people at once? Or better yet, in love with two people who are also in an established relationship.

 Because I have.

 I continue to you scribble my thoughts onto the blank page of my diary needing to express my thoughts and feelings somewhere, like a dirty little secret.

 A loud knock at my bedroom door interrupts my train of thought as I quickly close my secrets away and scramble to hide it in my desk draw. I turn around to see blonde hair and blue eyes peeking through the gap of the door.

 "Hey Y/N just letting you know movie night is starting in half an hour and I don't want another excuse as to why you can't come. You've been locked up in your room almost the entire week. We're worried." Steve asks warmly, ever the mother hen of the group.

 "I'm fine Steve I've just been busy with mission reports and making sure the new shield recruits are settling in. You know how daunting it can be, especially when Sam, Clint and Bucky think it's funny to mess with them on their first week. I promise I'll come down" I reassure him, and he almost believes me.

 "Okay I'll bite but just know I'm here if you wanna talk about it. I haven't mentioned it to them that I saw you sneaking out of their room last week" he says sympathetically.

 That's when this whole thing started. Once I became a regular member of the Avengers initiative, it meant spending a lot of time with the team. Nat and Wanda had welcomed me with open arms being the only two regular females of the group. It started off with small subtle brushes of their fingers against my hand when they walked pass or passing things to each other in the kitchen, their fingertips just lingering a little longer. Of course, every time this would happen I would be a blundering mess but they seemed unfazed by the waves of electricity between us every time, until those subtle hints turned a little more bolder.

 Three weeks ago

 Walking through the private area of the compound, I rub my tried eyes and roll my shoulders trying to ease the tension in my muscles. I shuffle towards the living room area hoping to catch up on some reading needing some peace. The open windows and the dark grey Italia corner sofa that faces it gives a lovely view of the trees and forest life that surrounds the hidden compound. In my dazed, tired state I failed to notice the fiery red head sitting lazily on the sofa a Russian novel in hand with a devilish smirk.

 "Hey Y/N how was training the newbies?"

 I gasp lightly and quickly turn around to face her, my hand hovering over my chest as I clutch my favourite book in the other.

 "Jeez Nat, you could warn a woman!"

She laughs quietly.

 "You're an avenger Myshka, your eyes should always be open to any possible thing" the words slow and clear, her voice deep laced with flirtation.

 I gulp slightly, blushing at the Russian term that I’m always referred to as but never know what it means. I drop my gaze no longer able to look into those green eyes that hold such heat.

 "Yeah well I've just spent the last five hours training dumbass's who can't tell the difference between a Fixation Bowie and a SoG Seal Knife, so give me a break" I grumbled, feeling slightly irritated suddenly.

 Maybe because she keeps flirting with you and she has a girlfriend.

 Nat frowns lightly before sitting up her legs tucked underneath her making available space on the sofa next to her, she pats the space indicating for me to sit with her. I pause for a minute debating whether that would be safe for me to do so, I scan her face and land my eyes onto her perfect full lips stained with red lipstick.

 Maybe this isn't such a good idea, I could always read in my room.

 But she looks so good sitting there and she smells divine.

 The latter thought wins as I tentatively make my way over to her and take a seat, leaving a good gap between us. Nat smiles softly before turning back to her book, making me relax a little.

 After a few minutes of us both reading in silence, I feel Nat shift slightly trying to get comfortable. Unfolding her legs from under her she slowly stretches them out over my lap and sighs content with her new position. I tense and look over to her waiting for her to say something, but her head is buried back into her book.

 It's okay, you guys are friends. This is what friends do.

 Nat shuffles around again before huffing, clearly not comfortable. I can feel her gaze on me from the corner of my eye.

 "Myshka, can I lean against you? The corner of this sofa is killing my back and you seem far too comfy" she whines lightly, pouting those cherry red lips. My eyes instantly fall to them again before quickly looking back to her eyes, a glint of knowing lingers slightly in those pretty greens.

 She caught you.

 "Oh..um yeah sure Natasha" she moves like lightening and curls up into my side, her head leaning against my shoulder, legs draped over me. My eyes widen in fear at the sudden closeness between us and the creaking sound of the floorboards by the doorway announcing another presence.

 "Well don't my two favourite girls look comfortable hmm? Mind if I join?" I continue to tense up, eyes moving back and forth between the two of them trying to gauge their reaction, but Nat seems indifferent as she continues to stay close to me still emerged in her book. Wanda makes her way around the room, I'm shocked to see that instead of sitting next to Natasha she stands closely behind us, her hands rest on either side of my shoulders, her thumbs move back and forth along my exposed shoulders as she leans in and whispers "you seem tense fényem (my light), you need to relax. Is Steve giving you a hard time with the new recruits? I'll have a word" her breath softly brushing against my sensitive skin making me shiver.

 I shake my head unable to find the words to speak. Wanda hums quietly before releasing her hold on me and moving towards Natasha before letting her lips meet hers in a heated kiss. I try to avert my eyes but it's too late, Nat looks straight at me and winks subtly before going back to her book as Wanda walks away asking if we would like a drink. I shake my head in decline before making up an excuse and sprinting out of there.

 Whatever game their playing, I don't want any part of it...

 Or maybe I do.

 End of flashback

 A week later the flirting and teasing had gotten more bolder as the days passed. I found myself being left alone with one of them or both way too often for it to be a convenience. At the end of that week, it was team bonding night in the games room, drinks were poured and before I had time to blink, I could feel soft warm skin against my lips while two pairs of red lips and hands trail along my naked back and shoulders, limbs tangled up in silk sheets.

 I woke up in a haze just as the sun met the earth in the distant horizon and vanished out of their room. Leaving an empty gap between them, making my heart shatter. The knocking on my door and the empty threats to come into my room if I didn't speak to them became less and less as the week went on, as if giving up on any attempts to see me.

 I'm shaken out of my thoughts by two large gentle hands cupping my shoulders; Steve stares at me with concern.

 "Come on let's just go down and get the food ready for the movie, okay? You can sit with me if you like, you don't have to talk to them" I nod my head in agreement to his proposition.

 "Is there any specific snacks you would like?"

 I smirk at that slightly before replying:

 "Do we have the big bag of Doritos, Dorito?" Steve rolls his eyes and groans in annoyance.

 "Can you and Tony stop it with the Dorito thing? it was one commercial and the money went to a good cause" he moans grumpily before leaving the room and heading back towards the kitchen for the movie night snacks.

 I chuckle softly before gathering my thoughts.

 Maybe I could make another excuse up for not going.

 Knowing I don’t stand a chance against a stubborn Super Soldier I make my way out off my safe space and into the unknown.

  Upon arriving in the dimly lit room I scan for a vacant double seat to settle into for the evening, my eyes fall upon the very two people who have been taken over my thoughts and the pages in my diary for last two months; Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff.

 Wanda sits comfortably on Natasha's lap her head tilted upward as Nat whispers softly to her while brushing her thumb over Wanda's bare calf making her giggle quietly.

 My thoughts overtake me as I think about her thumb brushing against my bare thigh while Wanda whispers sweet nothings into my ear, just like that night...

 As if sensing my presence, they both turn and face me, a soft smile playing on both of their lips.

 "Hey kotenok, where have you been all week? We've missed you" Nat speaks quietly laced with worry. Wanda's furrowed brow also indicating her agreement.

 I blush slightly and clear my dry throat suddenly aware of my daydreaming.

 "Sorry...I.. um I had a few mission reports that needed finishing and didn't realise the time. I could do without Steve chewing my ass about neglecting my responsibilities outside of missions" I say impersonating my best Steve Rogers voice, which causing Nat to smirk slightly; amusement in her eyes while Wanda giggles her eyes looking over my shoulder.

 "You know Y/N if you actually did do the reports on time, I wouldn't have to keep lecturing you" a deep authority voice says behind me while dangling a bag of Doritos in front of my face. I roll my eyes in good nature before grabbing the offered snack and moving to sit in the empty loveseat by the two women.

 "You know there is space on this love machi- I mean love-seat Y/N, all you gotta do is ask" Sam teases a few rows down and winking cheekily, a pillow hits him around the back of the head by Bucky who's sat beside him.

 "Please she's way out of your league, fake bird" they both continue to bicker back and forth as I settle onto my own love-seat, wrapping the blanket around me and sighing at the warm feeling surrounding me as I sink into it further.

 "Sam's right though Y/N, you don't have to sit by yourself. Come sit with me and Nat there's plenty of room here" Wanda whispers leaning over towards me so no one else can hear, her eyes filled with attentiveness. I gulp and avert my eyes away from her emerald gaze as I pull slightly at the blanket as if trying to form a protective barrier around myself, away from her gaze and the heat behind them.

 "Oh um I'm okay I'll stay here. Thank you though" I stutter over my words while trying to build up enough courage to look into her eyes, to show her I'm not affected by the idea of being so close to them both.

 "Oh okay.. well if you do get a bit lonely over here, just know the offer is there Myshka" her eyes filled with slight disappointment but doesn't push the offer further and settles back into Natasha. I feel Nat's heated gaze upon me as I try and stay focused on the starting credits of Clint's choice of film.

 Halfway through the movie, I can feel my eyelids growing heavy and my vision blurring. Unable to fight the dreamworld any longer I slowly let myself fall into a deep slumber.

 "She's so cute when she sleeps, so peaceful"

 "Can you imagine how good she would be for us Wanda, how amazing all three of us could be?"

 "Nat! This isn't the time; you know the last time we did that with her she pushed us away. Why won't she just talk to us? If she had just stuck around long enou-"

 The voices in the room suddenly stop as I feel myself awakening from my deep slumber, I tense slightly suddenly aware that I'm not alone in the room and not in the comfort of the cinema loveseat but in a soft bed that smells just like...

 "Hey sleepyhead, look who's finally decided to join the land of the living" Nat murmurs while brushing a stray piece of hair out of my face and behind my ear, I shiver slightly at her touch before scurrying into an upright position, aware that I'm currently not in my own bedroom but in theirs.

 "How long was I sleeping for?"

 "Only about two hours, we thought it would be best to bring you in here since we need to talk"

I gulp slightly at that.

 "Um.. to talk? Could we do this another time? I'm pretty beat from all that writing and working with the recruits, I just want my bed" I try to reason with them but they both fix me with a "don't even try it" look before sitting on either side of me. Wanda grabs hold of my hand and turns my palm upward, she traces her finger around my palm and slowly lifts her eyes to look at me.

 "Please Y/N, talk to us. We've been trying to see you all week, but you seem to be avoiding us and Nat doesn't take to well to being ignored" she smirks mischievously at mentioning her girlfriend, who seems to be remaining quiet throughout the exchange.

 I look over towards Nat only now taking in how quiet she's been throughout this whole exchange even in the cinema room she spoke less to me than ever before. Her eyes drop down, looking at the silk sheet as her hand brushes softly against along it, her head tilted slightly as if reminiscing.

 "We may have gone about it the wrong way myshka, but we care about you.. a lot actually and more than just friends. We can't stop thinking about you but avoiding us after leaving like that... if this is your attempt at pushing us away, it won't work. We...I felt it that night, the way you clung to me as I brought you close to the edge, the softness in your eyes when Wanda held you close afterwards... tell me you don't feel the same way"

  I sit gaping at her, lost for words. I feel Wanda's hand squeeze mine gently, comforting me and encouraging me to respond. She leans forward and brushing my hair behind me ear before cupping my face with her hand, her thumb brushing away at the absent small tear on my cheek.

 "Shhh lyubov moya, we know, or did you forget that I can read minds" she teases gently trying to ease the tension. She brings her lips to the side of my head and lets them brush gently against my temple before trailing them down to my cheek, leaving small trails of soft kisses. Her lips reach near my mouth before pulling away slightly:

 "If you don't want this Y/N we completely understand, just say the words and we'll leave you alone and let you move on-" before she could finish, I lean forward and capture her lips with mine.

 "I want this, I've wanted this for a while" before continuing to peck her lips repeatedly. I see Nat from the corner of my eye stand quietly before moving to sit in the armchair opposite the bed watching intently as Wanda pushes me gently so I'm lying flat on my back.

 She continues to straddle my waist and slowly unbuttoned my shirt before pulling it apart exposing my bare chest, the cool air hitting my breast making them harden instantly. Wanda hums in delight at the sight, her eyes darkening with a glint of red spiralling underneath her natural colour. She leans her head down towards my neck letting her nose brush lightly down the valley on my breasts barely touching my skin, her eyes lock with mine before looking over her shoulder at Nat who is now undressed from the waist down with the smallest pair of white panties on that barely cover her assets; a dark wet spot appearing indicating to her arousal, as she keeps her legs spread for us to see her hand trails slowly south towards her heat.

 "Mmm someone seems to be enjoying our performance, little one. Shall we give her more?" Her hands grip my shorts before pulling them down and letting them drop to the floor before leaving wet kisses from my ankle to inner thigh, tongue swirling and nibbling softly right near my core. I shiver and arch my back basking in the overwhelming feeling of her. She continues to tease me, brushing her nose against my panties before pulling away. I hear the floorboards creak quietly making Nat's movements known, I watch her as she stalks over towards us like a predator after its prey. She squats down so she's eye level with me her fingers grip my chin, making me turn my head to the side: facing her.

 "Such a pretty little thing, it would be a shame to put those luscious lips to waste, don't you agree Wanda?" She mocks, her question for the woman between my legs but her eyes stay locked with mine, darker with a glint of mischief.

 She moves forward and presses her lips to mine, trailing her tongue along my bottom lip making me gasp. Her tongue battles with my own before I take a hold of her bottom lip between my teeth and tug at it making her moan deep. I shiver slightly and turn my eyes downward towards Wanda who now has my panties in between her teeth as she drags them down slowly almost agonisingly slow her eyes locking with mine. Nat's attention now on my neck sucking gently.

 "Oh god"

 As soon as she's disposed of my panties her mouth is on me instantly, lapping her tongue over and over again, swirling around my folds before taking my clit into her mouth and sucking hard, making me moan out load.

 "She's so wet for us Nat, god I almost forgot how good she tasted"

 Nat chuckles softly before removing her panties giving me a great view of her pussy. I lick my lips in anticipation, excited at the thought of having Nat above me with my tongue inside of her. She smirks knowingly before slowly removing her tank top, showing her full breasts and climbing expertly above me so she's facing Wanda her pussy directly in view, dripping wet. I tilt my chin up trying to take a taste, but she hovers higher up away from me making me whine. I'm stopped from reaching any further by Wanda's hand grasping my breast her fingers twisting my nipple slightly as her tongue enters me, making me cry out.

 My cries are quickly stop by Nat, who lowers herself enough to let me taste her. I moan at how wet she is...how wet she is for us. The room is filled with low moans and desperate cries of passion as I continue to swirl my tongue around her entrance, Wanda brings her thumb up to my clit and rubs hard circles around the sensitive area making me pull away from Nat slightly, hips bucking wanting more of her.

 "Please Wanda, I need you inside me" I say desperately. She chuckles quietly before leaving my heated area and making her way up to my chest taking a nipple into her mouth and releasing it with a soft pop.

 “Come on now, dear. Let’s not torture her any longer” Nat teases from above me her voice breathless.

 "I got something much more pleasurable" she smiles wickedly, I watch in astonishment as her eyes turn a blood red but before I could question, I feel a strong wave of pleasure hit my core, Nat and I moaning out in unison.

 "Y/N if you don't put that fucking tongue back where it belongs, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week" Nat grumbles through her moans caused by Wanda's magic. I quickly tilt my chin up and plunge my tongue deep into her entrance. My hand desperately reaching for Wanda's pulling her closer. The waves of sensation hitting one after the other, faint sparks of red surrounds us. I feel Nat tense above me, bringing my hand up I gently rub at her clit, bringing her close to orgasm. She cries out before relaxing above me; I lap her up, taking every last drop of her orgasm.

 "Wanda you still have too many clothes on" I whine trying to blindly remove her clothes. I feel Nat move from above me and towards Wanda while she continues to tease up and down my body.

 "Y/N is right malen'kaya ved'ma (little witch), you are wearing far too many clothes" she says before gliding Wanda's long skirt and panties over her ass and dropping them in a heap on the floor, while she continues to kneel between my legs. I feel Wanda's hot breath hit my core as she gasps at the cool air hitting her warm skin. Her eyes glow a brighter red as Nat traces her finger up and down her folds before finding her entrance and quickening her pace, she leans her body over Wanda, so her lips are close to her ear as they both stare at me.

 "Hasn't she been good for us Wanda? I think she deserves an award" Nat whispers voice laced with lust slightly breathless.

 That familiar wave of electricity hits through my body to my core making me gasp as Wanda projects her pleasure to me. Being able to be in sync with her body and its reactions to pleasure, mixed with my own need for release, throws me over the edge as I feel the knot in my core relax making me slump against the pillow, Wanda not far behind. She collapses gently on top of me, her head resting against my chest listening to my rapid heartbeat start to slow. Nat moves around the side of the bed grabbing a throw over from the back of the armchair and covering us all up before curling into my side, kissing the top of Wanda's head and my cheek.

 "Does this mean you'll consider being with us Y/N, not just the sex but everything else that comes with it" Nat asks almost tentatively, scared of what I might say.

 "You guys had me the moment I laid eyes on you"

[elfyourmother]

so like I said this happened this morning and it’s still sitting on my spirit and I need to talk about why even just past what I said in the answer

this is about more than just fandom and fanfiction to me at the end of the day.

this is about intentionally choosing kindness and empathy at a time when it’s even more critically important. because people are using fic to escape more than ever. whether you are going to work every day dealing with the public’s bullshit, or like me in that hazy nebulous No Time of quarantining and working from home, fandom is an escape. a lot of us are dealing with so many challenges. fic is solace and escape, whether as a writer or a reader or both.

and not to get witchy on main again but I was trained to believe that words have power, words have energy and you have to guard your words and use them wisely. what energy you are putting out there in terms of how you relate to others is what you attract from them, and what you are receiving. so you best make sure what you are receiving is good and nourishing and cultivating growth in you and not feeding the weeds even as you’re trying to pull them out. shit is absolutely counterproductive.

too much in fandom is about weeds. 

ngl, that ask really got to me because I was hearing the ugly echoes of T. and the Ace!Solas crew who vagued constantly and got nasty about anyone who wrote smut fic about him. being exposed to a steady diet on my dash on a daily basis was really damaging to me because it fed those internal voices of shame and self-doubt and judgment from the evangelical upbringing I’ve been trying to recover from for my entire adult life. it made me quit writing not just s*lavellan content but anything at all with Khedira.

and this kind of shit also feeds the same voices that tell me I’m gross and stereotypical because I like to portray group sex and kink in my work, that I’m ~predatory~ and perpetuating x y and z when I’m writing about women fucking each other, that because I’m bisexual and write a promiscuous Black bisexual character that I’m Bad, etc.

I mean hell, I still feel a way about the racy content I make in crime tool despite Dandy’s encouragement. it took a lot for me to keep a spicy twitter for it and I feel weird talking about it, still.

so it literally doesn’t matter that the subject of scorn is str8 women this time because all of this garbage comes from the same place of misogyny and judgment and control of women’s sexuality, the same Good Girls Don’t mindset I’ve been fighting all my life literally since fucking puberty when I was raised to fear my body because The Flesh was a cursed thing that had to be under tight control at all times or else it’s the slip and slide into hell and damnation.

if I’m really about living recovery and healing I can’t allow myself to get sucked into that. I don’t think people realize how damaging that mentality is, not just to others but to yourself. sometimes the harshest judgments we have for others reflect our own deep seated insecurities and lizard brain terrors, or can feed them. it’s a vicious cycle. and I am really, really upset that someone decided to bring that to my inbox. honestly I get more upset the more I think about it. it makes me wonder how many people have seen my fics in the tags or AO3 and have anon’d in someone else’s inbox talking about that nasty girl and her slutty sue having sex with all these people all the time and can you believe what Haurchefant did in one of her dumb fics.

I don’t say this to be self-righteous and sanctimonious because I was as guilty of this as anyone in the past. I still have those thoughts sometimes but I keep them to myself and I really try to interrogate where they come from. because I spent too long perpetuating and feeding these cycles of negativity and for what? what did it really accomplish? nobody feels good.

again I’m not talking about calling out fannish racism or homophobia or other kinds of oppressive behaviors and isms, I’m talking about regular ass garden variety “people are writing this harmless thing in a way I personally don’t approve of, therefore they deserve hate and mockery” energy. 

and lest you think I pick on DA fandom for toxic behavior, I’ll never forget the night some years ago when a particular Shepard/Legion smutfic made the rounds in the ME fandom here and everybody and their mother was roasting the shit out of it, including me. to this day I feel a lot of shame around participating that and being involved in it, because it really was a kind of mob mentality, bullying this person. and again, for what? a lady fucking a robot? who tf were we to call it weird and cringey considering more than half of us write lady fucking alien stories in the same damn fandom, self included?? it literally was hurting nobody, this person was just having harmless fun, and got pilloried by a whole heap of strangers over it. I often wonder if the author ever knew that it was happening, and what impact it would have had. I regret it, a lot.

this fandom_wank, LJ sporking comm mentality is just really immature and insidious and really not good. it wasn’t good 10 years ago and it’s not good now. some of y’all really need to find healthier, more constructive ways of engaging with fandom because this ain’t it, at all. and ultimately you’re only hurting yourself as much as these folk you treat with contempt. because the thing is, as we used to say on f_w, everyone is eventually the new turkey. you live by the sword, you end up dying by it, and it’s not fun. it hurts like hell, actually. y’all say this is cringe and that is dumb and these people are writing garbage and then look like surprised pikachu when you try to write fic and words don’t come out.

cultivate your garden and stop worrying about what you see in Sara nem’s yard.

[mandadoration]

convincing enough

summary: anon asked: I see you are taking requests 👀 I’ve been looking for someone for this. I can’t get out of my head Mando and reader (or OC) having officially been together for a couple weeks and then they stumble upon reader’s ex who is hella hot and Mando gets a little insecure about it and after reader reassures him they have the best sex of their lives

word count: 3, 177

pairing: mandalorian x reader; (past) poe dameron x reader

warnings: smut, jealousy, oral sex (male receiving), against the wall sex, choking

a/n: Hope you don’t mind I made this a part of the settle the debt universe! Reminder: this series is out of order, but for reference, this would be before raise the stakes :) Also! I’m def fudging the timeline a little to make this work, okay?

Read this on AO3

Mando had told you to make a list of supplies for him to get while he went out to the markets, but you had grown frustrated trying to describe certain parts for the ships to make sure Mando would get the right ones that eventually you had wore him down and convinced him to take you with him. 

It was nice to get out for once. Usually you were subjugated to staying on the ship and taking care of the kid; the most you did was guide Mando through whatever place he was stalking through, talking him through the directions over the comms. You had missed being outside with the rest of society, haggling for prices. It became harder to try and persuade Mando to accompany him once he had admitted to you his worries and fears about you being in danger after a few incidents, how close he had held you and the child to his heart. You knew him well enough at that point to read between the lines, and had shared such a tender moment between you two that it still made your heart flutter thinking about it. So, with the Child strapped securely to your back, a blaster hidden in the folds of the wrap you used, and Mando trailing after you like a shadow, you were going through the markets. 

“15 credits, or I’m going somewhere else,” you say confidently to a merchant who was trying to sell you a coolant pipe for double the usual market value. 

It was easier to convince merchants to lower the price when the Mandalorian was hovering over your shoulder. 

But you barely notice him, instead opting to run through the mental checklist in your head over and over, looking over your shoulder now and then to check on the child who was drifting off to sleep in the cool breeze of the marketplace. You felt secure knowing that he was watching over you, daring anyone to speak up or try anything. 

Of course one of the most daring people you’ve ever known is here of all places. 

Someone calls your name from beside you, surprised, but all the same pleasantly so. You and Mando turn around to look for the source of the voice, and you honestly don’t know how to react because it’s the boy you met years and years ago, tagging along with his parents all the way from the Yavin System to trade for parts, and who had also swept you off your feet, stealing kisses under the searing sun with an even hotter mouth. Your fling had been woefully short, but you had never really forgotten him. It was hard to forget such charm and wit, playing smiles and impossibly perfect hair. He had left on good terms, reassurances that what you had shared was as genuine as week-long romances could be. You had gotten over him quick when you had figured that it had no chance of growing into anything more. All the same, you’re bewildered. 

“Poe?”

You blink, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, paying no attention to Mando as he hugs you tight, minding the precious package still strapped to your back. “It is!” he says, pulling back but keeping his hands on your shoulders and Maker, he hasn’t really changed at all, has he? “You look great!” Poe has most definitely grown more into his looks. He still has that boyish smile, but there’s something fierce burning in his eyes, and he’s had another growth spurt since that last time you saw him. You’re honestly amazed he hasn’t picked up some princess from a wealthy star system by now. “What are you doing here?”

“Buying parts,” you say dumbfoundedly. “What-- What are--?

“Who’s this?” Poe says instead, picking up on how you’re fumbling for words and saving you with a wink. He takes a step back, and really looks at Mando properly. His expression settles into something more serious, then Poe takes a gentle hold of your arm and pulls in you in close despite how Mando visibly tenses. “Hey, you’re not in any trouble, are you?” Poe murmurs in your ear. “You know who he is, right?” You flick your eyes over to Mando, who, despite his obvious discomfort, is staying put where he stands. You take Poe’s grip off of you with a feather-light touch. 

“Poe, this is Mando,” you introduce calmly. You step away from Poe to slide your fingers between Mando’s gloved ones reassuringly. “Mando, Poe. He… he came by my shop a long time ago,” you explain. Despite the years, Poe is still very easy to read, his eyes drifting to where your hands are intertwined before looking back at you, then to the kid asleep strapped to your back. His face softens. “We knew each other.” Mando’s grip tightens. 

Bless his heart, Poe says, “Nice to meet you,” despite the hesitance in his stance, and holds his hand out. You look up at Mando with some concern, but eventually he reaches out with a stiff arm. Poe winces from the force behind the hand shake, pulling his hand back as quick as he can. You offer him a wry smile. 

“We have to get going,” you say softly. You fear that if you were to stay here and force any more conversation, something bad was going to happen. “It was… nice to see you again, Poe.” You can’t help bit of tenderness and affection that slips into your voice. Poe rips his glare from Mando to smile brightly at you. 

“You, too,” he says. Then, “May the Force be with you,” in a lower voice, before he slips back into the crowd and disappears for the second time in your life. 

You haven’t finished shopping for parts and needed supplies, but you gather that Mando’s no longer in the mood to entertain you. You lead him through the crowd until you get back to where your ship is parked, only letting go of his hand when you get to the ship. The ramp lowers, creaking and you’re glad you at least managed to get some oil before tucking the child, now fast asleep, into the cot and shutting the door. What you did get from the market, you put on the table to sort later. That wasn’t a priority. Mando has already climbed up into the cockpit, so you scramble up the ladder after him, pausing in the doorway where he stands, staring at you like he expected you to follow after him.

“Who is he?” Mando asks. You furrow your brows. 

“Poe Dameron,” you say. “He and his family came by a long time ago for trade.” Mando sighs, seemingly struggling for words. There’s some kind of nervous energy vibrating off of him that makes you concerned. 

“Who is he to you?” he settles for. You feel yourself flush with embarrassment.

“We… we had a thing,” you eventually mumble, looking down at your boots, scuffed and dirty from years of wear and tear. “For, like… a week when I was younger and--” A sudden thought crosses your mind, making you scrunch up your nose as you look back up, taking in his tensed shoulders and his attitude when you were talking to Poe. Stand-offish, trying to intimidate- the last time he was like that was when there was a twi’lek bartender trying to buy you a drink and making doe eyes at you. “Are you jealous?” you blurt out. Mando answers a little too quickly to be the full truth. 

“No.”

You could tease him endlessly about it. God knows Mando likes teasing you at every chance he gets, poking and prodding at you until you’re a blushing mess, but you think he’s genuinely… worried. You don’t know how, but you know he’s not looking at you properly, which is a tell-tale sign that few get the chance to understand. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes when he reluctantly told you his feelings either. You step forward past the threshold to the cockpit and put a gentle hand on his upper arm. “Hey,” you say softly, “it’s okay. That was a long time ago.” The door slides shut behind you, and you pull him with you to lean against the door, the cold metal shocking your back. “You have nothing to worry about.” Mando’s shoulders drop the slightest, and you press yourself against him, licking your lips as you slot your leg between his. Then, “Why are you so worried anyways?” Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because Mando tenses up again, and you pull him closer to dissuade him from pulling away. But it’s the truth because you have no idea why Mando was even insecure about you stumbling across Poe again. There’s a few moments of silence where the both of you soak in each other’s warmth, and slowly, but surely, Mando’s hand comes up to brush your jaw before it settles against your cheek. 

“He…” Mando clears his throat. “He could give you what I can’t,” he says. You cover his hand on your face with yours. 

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s not bound by the Way of the Mandalore,” is all he offers, but again, you’re good at reading between the lines and accounting for that note of insecurity and doubt in his voice. You sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your toes as you bring him in for a tight embrace. Mando’s hands automatically come up to wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, the chill of the beskar helmet stinging your cheek. 

It’s a few moments before you pull away, just enough that you can place a kiss on the front of his helmet where you imagine his lips would be, and then some more to sink to your knees as you undo his belt. Mando’s hand instinctively goes to your hair. “What are you doing?” he breathes. You manage to undo the buckle, and soon enough you're pulling his half-hard cock out, licking a stripe up the palm of your other hand so you can start pumping him. 

“Giving you reasons not to worry,” you murmur, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth and suckling it. A deep groan emanates from Mando’s chest as he grabs a fistful of your hair. You slowly take him deeper into your mouth, jaw straining and eyes watering as you fight the urge to gag. With how large he is, you can’t take him all the way, but you opt to wrap your hand around the few inches left, looking up at him through your lashes as you let out a garbled moan around his twitching cock. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. You draw back, gasping in a deep breath before you dive back in, bobbing your head up and down, following with your slickened grip as Mando gives miniscule thrusts of his hips to try and chase it. He’s doing you a favor by not fucking your face in earnest because you think that you might actually throw up if he tried, which would certain sour the mood. But the consideration he shows makes you ache in the best way possible, and you pull off with a slick pop as you heave in sorely needed breaths, pumping him as the filthy, wet sound echoes in the cockpit. Your mechanic’s jumpsuit doesn’t offer much padding for your knees, but you suffer through it. 

When Mando lets go of your hair, you think that maybe he’s going to force your mouth open to shove his cock back inside, but instead he wraps it around your throat in a firm grip and hauls you up back on your feet with a growl, and he practically slams you against the door. You mewl as the pressure around your throat makes your head spin, your hand coming up to grip his wrist and the other trying to undo your jumpsuit. You would’ve loved to keep sucking his cock, looking up at him where you kneel, but there’s no use in fighting it. He takes pity on you, bless the Maker, and releases your throat briefly to rip your suit off with brute force, and grabs the collar of your undershirt to tear that off, too. Mando’s hand comes back up to pin you against the wall by your throat. He holds up one of his gloved hands to your mouth. “Bite.”

You take the tip of his glove into your mouth, biting down as instructed, and Mando pulls his hand out, immediately going to pinch and pull at your nipples. As he does, you manage to wrangle your arms out of your ruined clothes and slip them down over your waist, kicking them off until you’re left in your panties. “You’re so good to me,” he breathes. You let out a stuttered moan as you fumble blindly for his cock, wrapping your hand around it, fingers barely reaching each other as you clumsily jack him off. He hisses, and releases your throat, running his hands down your body before snatching his other glove off and taking the one still clamped between your teeth, throwing them somewhere behind him. “Suck,” he orders, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, and you take them eagerly, slipping your tongue around the digits as your eyes flutter shut. When he slips them out, they’re glistening in the light. Mando slides his hand into your panties, and unceremoniously shoves two fingers in, curling them and hitting something devastating in you, and you nearly wail with pleasure. “You’re so tight,” Mando grits out, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, wet squelching filling the air. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart,” he says. “You’ll never think about anyone else because this pussy is mine.” His voice is crackling through the modulator, low and rough in his throat. Briefly, in the back of your mind, you think that it was supposed to be the other way around, that you were trying to reassure him and make him feel good, but your head is still reeling from how quickly he’s turned the situation on its head that you can’t really complain. 

Or rather, you won’t. 

Mando slips his hands out to grab a handful of your ass, kneading the soft flesh, and he hooks his hands under your thighs and hauls you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, your clothed cunt rubbing against his cock as your hands come up to grab his shoulders for balance. “Mando,” you whine, rolling your hips to the best of your ability. His grip turns bruising as he lets out an appreciative moan. Mando presses you harder against the door so that he can slip a hand between your bodies, pulling your panties to the side as he rubs his coarse thumb over your clit. “Please,” you gasp out. “Maker, Mando--” 

“Tell me what you need,” he murmurs, rubbing his cock between your slit, gathering the wetness to coat his dick in your juices. “C’mon, sweet girl, use your words.” 

“You,” you whimper. “Fuck, Mando I need you in me, please, I--” Whatever you were going to say gets choked off as Mando presses the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, pushing insistently until he slips inside your blushing and fluttering hole, and presses deeper and deeper into you until he bottoms out and you’re left breathless. You scrabble against him, trying to find purchase on the smooth expanse of his armor until you find a soft spot between them to dig your fingers into. “Mando--” you keen, high pitched and wanting. 

And that’s all he needs to hear before he’s thrusting into you, hips slapping against yours in the most obscene way. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve fucked before, Maker knows that you think of those fading marks that had lined your throat like a necklace, how the blindfold had been stained wet with tears, but there’s an undercurrent of primal need that wasn’t there before, the only sound being filthy slapping of bodies and punched-out gasps and moans as Mando fucks you closer to the edge, rubbing your clit in fast, tight circles. He usually murmurs things to you, dirty things that make your pussy clench and your eyes roll back as liquid heat travels through your veins while he pounds into you, but there’s none of that here. Just the sound of his ragged breaths loud enough for the vocoder to pick up. Through the haze of pleasure, you look at Mando where you think his eyes are, and this time you know he’s looking at you. No averting his eyes or looking somewhere beyond you even as his helmet is seemingly trained on you, but really looking at you with your flushed face, shiny with sweat and contorted in pleasure. Like he was trying to commit you to memory. 

You wish that you could kiss him, press your mouth against his as you nip at his lips and tangle your fingers through his hair, but this was for him, and it’s not like Mando isn’t willing to indulge you now and then later down the road. 

You slide down the wall, just a little, but suddenly the angle changes just enough that he can slip a little further into your aching hole, and just enough that he’s hitting just the right spot, stretching you to the fullest, and you come without warning, orgasm slamming into you, pussy fluttering around him and clamping down like a vice as you cover your mouth to muffle the shriek that claws its way up your throat. Mando’s hips stutter, but his thumb keeps circling your clit, working you through your orgasm. His pace slows down, opting instead to slam back in, grinding his hips into you before dragging his cock back out and doing it all over again. In the middle of your haze, you faintly register how he groans as he pulls out, releasing one of your legs to pump his cock until he cums, splattering warmth over your cunt and thighs, watching as it drips down onto the floor of the Razor Crest with some perverted satisfaction. 

Eventually, he lets your other leg down, but has to keep a firm grip on your hips to make sure you don't collapse. Your knees are jelly at this point, faint tremors running through your body as your orgasm dies down. Mando leans forward, and touches his helmet to your forehead, resting against it as he runs his thumb over your hip bone tenderly. You lick your lips. 

“Are you convinced yet?” you ask him, voice hoarse as Mando brushes back your sweaty hair out of your face. “You have nothing to worry about.” He hums, and runs his large hand up your waist, trailing over your ribs, and takes your breast in his hand. 

“I might need a few more reasons.”

---

Forever Tag: @mabelleen @mando-vibes @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore @lavenderl3mons @jokersdoll​​ @creamysacrilege​​

[snarkwrites]

02 | gangsta, sweetpea; riverdale

Notes:

First of all, it hurts my heart. It physically PAINS ME... to write Reggie as the cocky fuckboy jerk he was in season 2. But, here we are. So.. there’s that. Secondly, this was not at all, in any stretch of my imagination... how I was intending this second part to go. If anything, I was going to hold off on actually writing this for at least two more parts. But again, here we are.

I just needed Alyssa to kind of... Show me more, so that kind of happens here... Anyway.. I honestly like how this turned out. Again, I preface with this.. I haven’t written much for Riverdale. I’m still figuring people and things out. So I’m sorry if it’s OOC or anything.

Summary:

Opposites attract.. But will the sparks create an inferno or will everything go up in flames?

Pairing:

Sweetpea x Andrews!OFC, Alyssa. (FYI, she was originally his fraternal twin but I’ve decided in my head that she’s a year younger than he is.))

Warnings:

Teen angst. Drama. Fights and other typical shenanigans. Fluff. Heavy sexual tension. I’d say slow burn too, so be warned. Eventual smut. Oh and a heavy caution because I’m only loosely following the series here. I’m picking and choosing things.

Other Parts:

[ one - soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ] 

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn​ 

If anybody else wants to be tagged in this lemme know I guess? I’ll add you to my Riverdale tag list!

                                                 TWO.

I tensed as I walked past the section in the hallway where the few Ghoulies lockers happened to be. If people thought Serpents were scary, they obviously hadn’t ever encountered a Ghoulie before.

I’d almost made it past when one of them, a dark haired guy with these hollow eyes called out to me with a menacing laugh, “Hey honey? I gotta ask.. The carpet match the drapes?”

I clenched my fists. Took a deep breath and reminded myself that the Ghoulies were not a group of people I particularly wanted to be on the radar of. At all. I took another step or two. Picking up my pace. Trying to avoid any and all potential conflict because god knows, we’ve had more than enough of that since Riverdale and South Side merged into one school.

But he repeated himself.

I stopped and turned back to look at him.

To hide the fact that my hands were shaking, I placed one on my hip. Biting my lip as I took a breath or two just to keep from giving away the tangible fear I felt in the moment.

,, And naturally, Reggie is nowhere to be found. Because you’ve been avoiding him like a child since the argument. Of course this happens now...” the thought came but I shoved it right out of my head. For one thing, since when did I need Reggie, or anyone for that matter, rushing in to protect me from the big scary gangsters? Just the realization that I’d actually become one of the girls I used to roll my eyes at when I lived in Chicago with mom had me disgusted with myself.

And like that, the Andrews temper rose to the surface before I could stop it.

“Was a simple question, honey? You slow?” the Ghoulie stepped out into the middle of the hallway. Not too close to me, but still too close for my personal comfort. I gulped. Stepped back to put more distance between the two of us.

“ Are you slow, asshole?” I asked quietly. Wanting to pat myself on the back for how calmly I kept my tone.

He chuckled and shook his head, stepping closer all over again. Eyeing me up and down as if I were a piece of meat and he was hungry. Licking his lip and somehow making the gesture seem so lewd I had to fight back the bile as it rose in my throat.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, cherry?”

“I asked if you’re slow. You’re the one out here repeating asinine questions. My lack of a response should’ve been your first clue I wasn’t going to answer.” I shrugged. The shake in my hands doubled. My voice wavered just slightly at the end of my comment and I prayed to hell that this giant fuckhead couldn’t smell fear because if he could, I was royally screwed.

,, you should have just kept walking but nooooo. Now look where  your temper’s gotten you.” the thought came just as the guy stepped closer. Glaring down at me.

“Ya know you’re lucky I like ‘em cute and feisty. Mantle’s little piece of ass, right?” he sneered as he mentioned Reggie.

“I don’t belong to anybody, you bag of dicks.” I stated. Starting to get more irritated. Starting to get entirely too big for my britches.

“Is that so?” he snarled, looking me up and down. Making me cringe in disgust as he did so because somehow, the way he was looking at me made me feel just so… Dirty.

“If you get any closer I’m going to punch you in the cock.” my jaw clenched and I muttered the words, lowering my hand. Gazing up at him with what I hoped was the calmest ‘don’t fuck with me’ look I could muster.

“Easy cherry.” ,,What the hell is Sweetpea doing here?” the thought came and I almost asked him that question but before I could say anything more, I was being pulled out of the way and further down the hall by Sweetpea. Left to stand there and puzzle out exactly why he chose to intervene as he stormed back down the hall and practically threw the dark haired Ghoulie up against the locker, a thick forearm right across the Ghoulies throat.

Snarling something at him that I couldn’t hear from where I stood. I took a few shaky breaths and watched the confrontation with concern. Tension filling my body as I hugged my notebooks against me. More than once I started to walk down.

Try to stop things before they turned into an actual shit show. It was the second time I was about to that Toni Topaz, one of the only two people I’d ever seen Sweetpea speak to, cleared her throat from beside me and stretched out an arm.

“Oh no you don’t, Ariel. What you’re going to do is stand right here. Like a good little Vixen. We clear?”

I eyed her, not entirely sure whether she was insulting me or genuinely trying to keep me out of harms way. The soft laugh and little smile she gave me, calm but firm as she nodded her head and spoke again. “Say you agree. Because trust me… You don’t want in the middle of this.”

“But..” I protested, going quiet. Giving up on trying to make sense of any of this. My eyes scanning the hall for Reggie, for my brother, for anybody familiar. Anybody I deemed just a little safer.

I spotted Jughead sprinting towards the ongoing altercation, pulling the two apart, shoving at Sweetpea as the two of them proceeded to have words and Jughead got Sweetpea away from the Ghoulie.

“Thank god.” I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Relaxed a little bit. From beside me, Toni spoke up again.

“Ya know.. It really says a lot about your so called boyfriend that the entire time you were just about to dive right in over your head that he was down by Mandy’s locker, flirting as if you weren’t even an issue.”

I winced at her words. Sighed and shrugged. “We’re not exactly on speaking terms right now.”

“I kind of figured. Pretty sure the entire school heard you two fighting in the hallway after Biology.” Toni mused, studying me intently. 

I shook my head, shrugging again. Wincing because they probably had. I’d had to hear about it from pretty much every single person in my third period class. Constantly getting reminded how Reggie was ‘like.. The hottest guy in school’ and I was ‘lucky he noticed me to begin with…’

,, oddly enough, not feeling so lucky right now.” the thought came and despite trying to ignore it, I couldn’t shake it this time. 

Toni eyed me in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just been a long and crappy day. I’m half tempted to ditch.” I admitted. At the suggestion, she gave a smirk. Grabbing hold of my arm and practically dragging me towards the double doors that lead out into the parking lot.

“Where on earth are we going?” I asked in a laugh. The first laugh I’d actually had all day.

“We’re ditching, duh. C’mon. We’ll go down to the quarry. Or go play Mortal Kombat at the Wyrm. Unless you’re scared…” Toni stopped to gaze at me, a challenging smirk as she tapped her foot.

The guy I always saw her with around campus caught up to us. “You ditchin without me, Topaz? What the hell?”

“Cherry here needs a break.” Toni answered. At this point, I didn’t even bother trying to correct her about the name. It wouldn’t do any good. It hadn’t in the entire two weeks I’d spent as Sweetpea’s partner in Biology. Somehow I got the distinct impression that this was my nickname now and it was going to stick. No matter what I did.

I eyed Toni, not quite sure what was going on. Why was she being nice to me at all when everyone I knew were so quick to be mean and angry that they had to share a school with what my so called friends referred to as ‘trash’ or in Cheryl’s case, ‘total degenerates.’.. I found myself wondering why she’d bother giving me a chance at all. If I were in her position.. I pushed the thought out of my head. Because I had been in her position. I could’ve spoken up. I could’ve been nasty about Sweetpea being paired with me in class. I could’ve been a bully like pretty much everyone else around me was but I’d mostly just kept to myself.

It was mostly out of self preservation, but also, because if anyone from Riverdale had known me when I lived in Chicago at the start of the year, they’d quickly realize I was… Not the girl I seem to be here. That I was probably closer to a Serpent than I was a true Northsider. 

Here I’m just trying to keep my head down and stay out of trouble. Trying to make life easier on my father while he’s healing from nearly dying earlier in the year. Trying to keep my brother and my father from making a big mistake and drifting apart all because my brother’s gotten too full of himself lately and he’s letting Hiram Lodge and all the ‘gifts’ the man seems willing to dispense go straight to his head. Mostly because I promised my mother when she sent me here to live with Dad and Archie that I was absolutely not going to get into any more trouble than I’d gotten into while living with her. That I was going to turn over a new leaf. Because according to her, I was ‘starting to scare the shit out of her’ with some of the things I’d managed to get myself caught right in the middle of.

Deep down I knew I stood out amongst my so called ‘friends’ like a sore thumb. I was only on the Vixens because I happened to be a gymnast and danced since I could walk. I was only with Reggie because he thought I was hot and I was dumb enough to fall for his pretty face, fast car and smooth talk. I knew I was an imposter. I was miserable too, because while I was finally able to enjoy living with my dad and my brother and make up for lost time with them I wasn’t able to breathe or relax and be myself without worrying if someone was going to see right through me.

It was pathetic if I really stopped to think about it.

I think Fangs was more than a little puzzled too because he went to say something but Toni elbowed him in the side and shot him a silencing glare before fixing her gaze on me all over again.

“I said, we’re skipping.. Unless Cherry here is too chicken.”

“You realize she’s a North Sider..” Fangs pointed out. Ignoring Toni’s glare this time and eyeing me warily. I squared my shoulders, gazing up at him defiantly.

“You realize that I’m standing right here.” I piped up, giving Fangs Fogarty a pout and glaring. I took a deep breath and glanced over my shoulder at Riverdale High.

I just wanted one afternoon to breathe.

One afternoon wouldn’t hurt…

I smirked as my eyes met Toni’s. “Okay. Alright. I’m in.”

“I knew it! Something told me you weren’t just another mindless cheer zombie.” Toni remarked. At this rate, I didn’t dare question or ask what she meant by it. Something in my gut told me to just roll with whatever was happening.

Right up until the point Sweetpea caught up to the three of us. Glaring at me. With a bruise forming on his jaw and an angry gleam in his eyes. “What the hell is she doing tagging along?”

“She’s coming with, Pea.” Toni stated firmly. Sweetpea snickered. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

“She’s coming.” Toni argued, tapping her foot against the pavement, folding her arms over her chest. “The more we argue this, the more we stand the chance of being caught.”

Sweetpea grumbled and glared at me. “Fine. But I don’t want to hear a fucking word when we’re all sitting in detention because Cherry here gets a guilty conscience and runs to snitch.”

“Asshole.” I snapped at him.

“Princess.” he snapped right back.

“ Have you ever been swimming at the quarry?” Toni asked as we all made a break for the treeline. The school was getting further behind us and the further it got, the more free I felt.

“ A time or two.” I answered. “Usually at night though.”

This got me a look from all three of them.

“At night?”

“Yeah. What? Like you guys aren’t out till all hours doing whatever… I just wanted to go swim and look at the stars…” I trailed off.

“You realize there’s a serial killer going around offing people right now, right?” Sweetpea was gazing at me as if I’d lost my mind. So were Fangs and Toni.

“Yeah. I know. Trust me, I know. Kind of why I had a knife with me.” I shrugged as I spotted a path I used when I ditched during my first week of school at Riverdale High. I started towards it.

“The path is over here, Cherry.” Sweetpea called out in annoyance. Grumbling to himself about how bringing me along was a bad idea.

“That path maybe. This one is faster. Comes out right on the bank.” I stopped and turned back to look at the three of them. Tapping my foot impatiently.

“You can trust me.” I stated calmly. “I found this path my first week here. I ditched during History.”

“Color me shocked.” Fangs eyed me in amusement. Toni gave a soft laugh as she caught up to me.

“Are you sure coming with you guys was a good idea?” I asked her while the guys were out of earshot. I didn’t want to cause problems between her and her friends. Or make the afternoon tense.

“I get sick of being the only girl. I don’t care if it was or not. They can learn to love it.” Toni flashed me a grin as we pushed through thick shrubs and found ourselves standing on the creekbank.

I eyed the water. “Well, it’s either stand here or swim. C’mon.” I called out to Toni as I stepped to the water’s edge and turned back to smirk at her. Turning her own earlier words around. “I mean.. Unless you’re a chicken, Toni.”

“I know you did not just..” Toni laughed as we dove in. Sweetpea and Fangs stepped onto the bank swearing up a storm and glaring and as they stepped closer to the water, Toni and I swam over and sent up the biggest splash we could manage.

Neither of them were amused.

By the time we were finished swimming, the sun was starting to go down. I happened to remember I was supposed to be at cheerleading practice. And then the thought occurred to me that I honestly just wasn’t feeling it today. If I went to practice I’d have to deal with Reggie. And I just wasn’t in the mood to talk to him yet.

I was still upset about our fight in the hallway that morning. I was starting to really step back and think long and hard about just how one-sided everything actually was between Reggie and I.

“Hey, won’t the Vixens have a meltdown if you miss practice, Cherry?”

It was Sweetpea’s not so subtle way of telling me to leave. I wasn’t stupid, I could see it from the look in his eyes.

Toni glared at him and Sweetpea shrugged, sitting up. Wrapping his arms around his knees as he stared out at the water. “She’s only here because she’s bored anyway.” he muttered, making me growl to myself quietly.

I started to stand and make my exit, but Toni shook her head. “C’mon. Live a little.”

I eyed the opening in the treeline and her and flopped back against the sandy bank. “Honestly, I don’t even care at this point. I’d really rather not see Reggie or deal with anybody’s crap. Screw it. I’ve already avoided it all this long...”

I sat up after a second or two, staring out at the water. I’d have to go home soon and honestly, I didn’t want to do that either, because I knew that if Archie and dad weren’t fighting, they’d be giving each other the silent treatment.

And the tension between my dad and my brother was starting to drive me crazy.

Just as the sun completely vanished, we stepped out of the trees and into Pickens Park. Just between the North and the South side.

“I should get going. My dad’s got enough to worry about with Archie and his growing ego lately. I’ll see you guys around, okay?” 

“Hey,Cherry?” Toni called out just as I turned to start walking towards my father’s house. I stopped and turned back, smiling, “Yeah?”

“Maybe for a Northsider you’re not the worst.” Toni gave a teasing grin as she added, “See you around.”

“Maybe for a Serpent you’re not completely scary.” I smiled back at her before turning to hurry towards my father’s house just as I spotted the patrol car turning in at the top of our street.

Probably out looking for people violating the city wide curfew. I definitely didn’t want to be caught doing that.

Just as I stepped through the front door, Archie spoke up.

“Reggie couldn’t find you after practice. And I didn’t see you after third period. Where did you go, Alyssa?”

“ I left. I got tired of the bullshit, Archie.”

“Yeah, I told him to let you cool down. I also talked to him about the way he’s been treating you.”

“Archie, what the entire fuck, why would you do that?” I groaned, raising my hand to my forehead.

“Because you’re my sister and I know when you’re hurt. And I don’t like it when you’re hurt. I’m supposed to protect you, pixie.”

“Archie, I clearly handled the situation.”

“ I know, but I wanted to remind him what would happen if he hurt you.”

I grumbled and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. After a second or two, I hugged my brother, raising to tiptoe to fluff his hair a little. “How’s dad tonight?”

“He’s at the construction site. He had to go in and meet with someone, I think.”

I started to head up to my room and Archie called out to me, making me laugh. “ I know you skipped today. My lips are sealed.”

“Thank you.” I smiled before turning and disappearing up the stairs, stepping into my room and flopping across my bed.

I plugged in my phone to charge and once it had charged, it started to blow up with notifications.

At least half of them were worried texts and voicemails from Reggie. I braced myself and hit call.

XXX

The phone rang and Reggie’s arm shot out, fumbling around on the nightstand blindly. Once he had it in his hand, he answered sleepily.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Thank fucking god. You scared the hell out of me, princess. Where were you?” Reggie’s words tumbled out practically on top of each other. he took a deep breath or two and muttered quietly, “Thank god you’re okay. You can’t pull shit like this. There’s a serial killer...” Reggie went quiet.

“I needed some space. I left after second period.”

“Archie told me you were pretty upset. Listen.. I’m..” Reggie trailed off as she sighed and muttered, “Yeah. I know, you’re sorry. I’m sorry too.”

“I was just trying to tell you that the Serpents are dangerous, okay? Because I saw Sweetpea flirting with you during Biology and guys like that only want one thing, princess. And he’d say anything to get it too.”

He frowned when Alyssa grumbled and then spoke up. Shutting down the conversation. She seemed distant. Quieter tonight. It wasn’t like after any of their arguments were they made up, talked things out and she was back to being bubbly and happy.

It had him concerned.

It had him more than a little irritated at Sweetpea for all the flirting he’d done earlier. Worried that something the guy said or did might have gotten her attention. He didn’t like the thought of it at all.

,, you only want her because she’s new territory, man. Don’t go catching feelings like some weak little bitch.” his mind taunted, but the sad part of it all was that he was starting to realize that it was too late for that. He’d caught feelings months ago.

And now, thanks to bullshit and a fucking Serpent, he might be about to lose her… ,, and the bet, man.. Remember the bet? If you lose, you’re going to look like a little bitch.”

But the bet didn’t even matter anymore. He just didn’t want to lose her.

“Alyssa.. I really mean it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Reggie. Listen… It’s getting late. I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

Before he could say anything else, he got the  dial tone. Swearing, he lightly slammed his fist down on his nightstand and took a few shaky breaths.

He wanted to kick himself. If he’d known any of this was coming, he would’ve spoken up back when the teacher gave them their Biology partners.

,, yeah but you didn’t and now it might be a little too late… No. No it’s not. Not if I can help it...”

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found (chapter 9)

Warnings: there’s filth below. Utter filth.  Tyler smut. Because that’s what we deserve.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007 @hemmyworthy

They make love. Slow.  Intense. As if their bodies and the sighs and moans of pleasure are somehow enough to convey the thoughts and the feelings that neither have the ability...or the courage...to express.

Like a long goodbye, Esme thinks, and has to screw her eyes tightly shut to rid herself of the thought and of the tears that threaten.

Afterwards she clings to him. Desperate to keep him inside of her. Her body accepting the full weight of his; fingertips and palms gliding over his arms, across his shoulders and down his back.  Tracing every line of the Nordic tattoo.  Finding his scars.  As if committing every inch of him to memory.

There's so much she wants to say, but simply can't find the courage to. Getting the words out in the open means you can never take them back. They're out there. In the universe. Lingering like a foul stench or a bad omen.  She's weak. Emotionally and mentally spent. So she hopes the soft caresses and the languid exploration does all the talking for her.

She despises the sense of doom that comes with that last kiss her gives her before pulling away.  His eyes locked on hers, a sad smile playing on his lips as she cradles his face in her hands.  Brushing her knuckles along his beard,  using a fingertip to trace the scar that spreads over the bridge of his nose, then the one that takes up residence on the left side of his forehead. Her eyes find the one on his neck. The one that was a lasting remembrance of the day she nearly lost him.  She looks away; eyes finding his face once again. And she pushes a hand through his hair. Tugging at the longer strands at the top and pulling his head back.

“I know,” he says. Voice low. Rumbling deep within his chest.  “I know.”

*****

Later he lies on his back, a forearm across his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling. Listening to her soft breathing and the sounds of the apartment in the middle of the night; the settling of pipes, the distant drip of the kitchen tap, the neighbours shuffling around overhead.

He can't sleep. His body in agony.  His mind on edge.

“Tyler?” her voice, soft and tiny, snaps his eyes open. She lies on her side, back towards him.  Long dark hair fanned out along the crisp white pillow case.

He stretches out an arm, reaching for her. Palm coming to rest on her back.  There's an overwhelming need to touch her. To stay touching her. It's desperate. All consuming. The irrational fear of if he stops touching her, she'll slip away.  If he can feel her skin, feel the way her body rises and falls with each breath she takes, then she's still there. Right there in front of him.

“Yeah?” he responds.

“What are you thinking about?”

She knows him so well.  Better than he knows himself sometimes.  She senses when  he is struggling. Whether it be physically or mentally. And he's thankful for that. It makes the burdens he carries a little easier to bear.

“Christmas,” he says, and she casts a glance over her shoulder.

“What?”

“Christmas. I was thinking about Christmas. It will be the baby's first. I was thinking about how it would be nice if we went and visited your family. I want to meet them. And your mom deserves to meet her grand daughter.”

He's had a handful of conversations with his mother in law. She doesn't like him.  He's the one that had taken her baby girl away. He was responsible for breaking up the family unit.  It didn't matter that he'd also played a part in giving her a grand kid. Right now her need to hate him overpowered anything else.   The old man was a different story.  He seemed to get it.  He seemed have a better grasp on what had happened. On why Esme had made the decisions she did.

“Sometimes we do crazy shit because we're in in love,” he'd reasoned once. “And trust me, son, this isn't the craziest shit I've heard about.”

Tyler knew his tune would change when...if...the full truth ever came out.

She moves beside him,  rolling over onto her back.  “Are you being serious right now?”

He nods, and once more reaches for her. There it is again.  The agonizing need to keep a hold on her. As if something...or someone...was waiting in the shadows to snatch her away from him. His hand finds hers; entwining their fingers together, squeezing harder than he needs to.

“You gave up everything...everyone...to stay here with me. It's only right that I meet them. By then we'll both be out of the game. We'll have a normal life. We'll be doing normal things.”

“Whatever normal is,” she muses.

“I'll have to get a job.”

“Doing what?”

“I have no clue,” he admits.

Truth be told, he'd never thought he'd live long enough where venturing down another career path seemed a necessity.

“Private security, maybe. Or construction.”

“I can see that already,” she says. “With your hard hat and your steel toed boots and those jeans I love the most on you. You know, the ones that are baggy and hang off your waist. I can see you all shirtless and sweaty.”

He grins.  “Is that some kind of fantasy of yours?”

“Baby, you ARE my fantasy.”

He smiles and brings their joined hands to his lips; pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“What do we tell them?” she inquires.  “About what we've been up to? They're going to want to know. I can't keep dodging the questions. It's getting harder and harder to lie. To remember what I've already told them.”

“You tell them that you met me when you were here on a business trip. That you seduced me.”

A derisive snort. “Give me a break. You seduced me. With your stupid handsome face and your stupid beautiful eyes and your stupid sexy voice.”

“I thought it was the muscles.”

She heaves a long, content sigh. “Those too. Definitely those too.”

“Just tell them that I got you drunk and took advantage of you.”

“Oh yeah, right...” she laughs. “...that would go over well.”

“I don't know. Tell them that we met and you didn't know how to say no. That you fell into my bed and never left.”

“As much as that last part is true,  that is not something I can tell my mother.”

“So we stick to the story they already know. You met me, we fell in love, you decided to stick around. There's no need for much detail. Just that you stayed and I got into an accident and you nursed me back to health. That's it. Then we got married. Had a baby.”

“My mom is still bent out of shape that we never told her we were getting married in the first place.  I guess she feels robbed. She didn't get to do the whole mother of the bride thing. What does it matter? She has another daughter.”

“Well, you were the first girl,” he reasons. “And people have second weddings all the time,” he reasons. “Tell her that.  That that's something we could do. It's not the same but it might make her hate me less.”

“She doesn't hate you, Tyler. She just doesn't know you.”

“Do you really want her to?”

“Why wouldn't I? You're a great husband. You're an even better father. You're my best friend. My lover. My confidant. Why wouldn't I want her to know you?”

“I don't mean that Tyler. I mean the other Tyler.  Like you said, I can't pretend he doesn't exist.  That he still isn't part of me. Do you really want her knowing that part? Do you really want her knowing what I do? What I'm capable of?”

“It's a messy thing to get into. But you shouldn't be ashamed of it.”

“You know the things I've done. You've seen the things I can do.  That's the stuff nightmares are made of.”

“But you've also done a lot of good things. You've helped a lot of people. You've saved them.  You nearly killed yourself doing it, but you still did it.  You have a big heart, Tyler. You hide it from everyone else, but I know it's in there.  I know what you're capable of. Good and bad.  You have a lot of love inside of you for someone who has done the things you've done. Look at the way you love me. Look  at the way you love our daughter. Look at the way you love Ovi.  You're not a bad person, Tyler. You're a good person who has done bad things.  To bad people who deserve bad things happening to them. I mean, you even mourned for Gaspar even though he betrayed you and turned out  to be a complete fucking tool.”

His thumb brushes over hers, then along the base of her fingers. Her hands are soft. Tiny. Especially compared to his.”What about Austin?” he asks, and he feels her hand tighten around his.  “He was a good person. He was pure and innocent and good and I did a horrible thing to him.”

“You can't hate yourself forever. You just can't.”

“I know...” he sniffles noisily, fighting to keep back the emotions. “...but I can't forget.”

“No one expects you to.  It was a difficult decision to be in. You did what you thought was the best thing to do at the time. You were scared. You didn't want to see him suffer.  And I don't blame you for that.”

“I left him,” he laments. “I left him when he needed me the most.”

“Tyler...” she pushes herself into a kneel, and he spreads his leg apart as she comes to rest on her knees between his thighs.

He likes the way her hands feel against his face. That smooth, gentle touch through his beard, the way her fingertips rub against his ears and her thumbs glide across his chin.  And he manages a small smile when one of her hand tunnels in hair and her fist gently grabs hold of it, yanking his face up towards her.

“You did what you thought was the best thing to do,” she reasons. “You made a tough decision. And yes, maybe it was the wrong decision. Maybe you should have toughed it out and hung in there and stayed by his side until the end.  But we don't all handle things the same way. You did what you did, Tyler. And now you have to come to terms with that. You need to move on.”

“You were there. For your dad. You were there and you were just a kid.”

“And look how much it fucked me up. Look how messed up I am. It screwed me up, Tyler. I was seventeen. And teenage years are hard enough at the best of times. Never mind something like that. And yeah, I'm grateful for the time we did get together. For the conversations we had. But it took something like that for those to even happen. That's my cross to bear. I took it for granted that he would always be around. I was an asshole teenager. I rebelled. I broke his heart. I pissed him off. And it took until he was dying to make amends for all the shitty things I'd said and did. I hate myself for that.”

“You shouldn't. You were a kid. Kids rebel. Kids do stupid shit.”

“I waited until it was too late to make a real difference. I thought I had so much more time and I didn't. So we both have our crosses to bear. We both hate ourselves for one thing or another. But goddammit, Tyler Rake. You enormous, insufferable pain in my ass.  I love you. I love you so much it hurts. So much I can barely breathe sometimes. And you make all that hate and all that guilt I have so much easier to bear. So you do save people. In more ways than you could ever imagine. You don't realize it, but you...saved...me...”

She's still cradling his face when she leans down to kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and she can taste the salt of his tears.  

****

His hands rest on her hips;  kneading the soft, supple flesh. And when he feels the press of her tongue against his lips, they begin their descent upwards. Sliding underneath the back of the flimsy tank top that she wears, feeling that shiver that passes through her as his calloused palms glide over her rib case, slowly moving upwards towards her breasts but then retreating, coming around to her back once more.  He pulls out of the kiss in order to watch her face; the flush in her cheeks, her widened pupils,  the way she tucks the bottom lip between her teeth.  

And he continues to watch her as he runs his fingers along her back, slowly and deliberately tracing each and every indent and bump of her spine.  Taken back to a year ago in Dhaka, in that squalid, dingy hotel room, where he'd finally let down the walls he'd built up and he  allowed someone in.  When he finally felt something other than grief and loneliness and an overwhelming urge to put a bullet in his own brain.  Two people struggling with extremely different yet eerily similar demons. Discovering among those four dirty walls and under that water stained ceiling, that they could help one another.  That maybe they could each fill the holes in one another that had long ago been abandoned.

Everything had been screaming at him to stop. That demon on his shoulder telling him that there was no way this could end well.  That he couldn't possibly ever be the man that she needed. Wanted. Deserved. That he didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve love. That he was a horrible person who'd done horrible things and nothing good ever happened to someone like that.  It wasn't the right time. Or the right place. And he'd known that. But he'd been powerless to stop it. He hadn't wanted to stop it. So he'd given in. To lust. To the power it gave him knowing that someone wanted him as badly as she did.  To that little voice that told him that maybe..just maybe....this could work. That he could fall in love her. And she with him.  That they could actually have a future.

He feels as if he's there. Back in that room. In the swelter of the Bangladesh heat.  He can hear the hustle and bustle outside of the room; blaring car horns and the shouts and chatters of people on the street.  He can once again feel the sweat on his skin; beading across his forehead, dripping from his temples, gathering at the nape of his neck.  He can smell her; not as she is now, but the smell of her then.  Of  cheap shampoo and body wash mixed with her own perspiration.  How he'd thought...at the time... that is was the most beautiful thing he'd ever smelt in his entire life.  His once emotional dead and weary body had come alive as his hands explored her ready and willing form; kisses blazing trails over each inch of her, tasting her on his lips and his tongue, driven by an overwhelming sense of urgency and need.  He even recalls how her own hands had felt; how her voice had sounded as she whispered his name. With a tortured, begging quality that he'd never heard from a woman before.  And the knowledge that she was there..wanting him as badly as he wanted her...had been too much to take.

*****

Tyler feels that now. Those same sensations that the old Tyler had felt nearly a year ago.  Every nerve ending on fire; blazing hot and growing deep in his stomach.  Shuddering as she moves against him; her legs now straddling his lap and her breasts pressed flush against his chest.   His hands move up her back; lightly and kneading her shoulders before his palms slide down that silky smooth. Their eyes never leaving one another as her grip tightens on his hair and she aggressively yanks his head backwards.   Hissing sharply as her teeth nip a path that covers the width of his collarbone,  wanders over his throat and the underside of his chin. Biting down on his bottom lip and his fingers digging into her hips her uses the tip of her tongue to trace the small red marks that her teeth that had left behind. This isn't a role she commonly plays. Domineering as opposed to being utterly submissive. She prefers the latter, and he enjoys the dom role, struggling to give up control even in their sex life.  

He temporarily hands over that power; his hands moving to her ass and squeezing and kneading the soft flesh while her grip tightens in his hair and he allows her to manipulate his head just where she wants it. The other reaches between them, and he lets out a long, low 'fuck' when her nails scrape down his chest just as the tip of her tongue traces the outer edge of his ear.  His cock already rock hard against her when he feels gentle lips against that scar on the side of the throat. That one that serves an everlasting reminder. Like a souvenir from the gift shop in hell.  And his eyes close and his head struggles to fall forward against the grip she has on his hair as her mouth furthers down onto his traps.  

“Fuck sakes,” he growls, a mixture of surprise and slight pain when her teeth bite down on that spot she always seems to find. That one that always serves as her victim.   “That's going to leave a mark.”

“Good,” she says, as her tongue travels over the tender spot. “Then everyone will know that you're mine.”

He briefly wonders if by everyone she exactly means Nik.  Just what was the issue there? What the hell had ever happened between them? He imagined if had everything do with him. His past with one and his present and future with the other. It was the elephant in the room; one made even bigger by Nik's appearance.  But then all thought of his ex conquests totally flies out the window as his wife grinds her lower body against his,  feeling  the telltale sign of her arousal; slick juices now marking his skin.

“Tyler...” she whispers, that same whisper she'd used so many months ago. When her hands had been desperately clutching at his  hair and his shoulders,  his head  buried between her legs as he used his mouth and fingers to drive her wild. And he remembers how her tone and the volume of her voice had rapidly changed. From that soft hush tone to something more needy and desperate. Escalating to a full out scream; her heels digging into the mattress and her entire body arching off the bed.  

She pulls back to look at him. Those dark eyes full of longing and desire. Her chest heaving, hair hanging loose over her shoulder and down her back. But there's something else in the way she regards him. As if her eyes are searching his for some kind of reassurance. A promise that everything is going to be okay. At this time next year, they will be here in this very bed.  No repeat of what had happened a year ago.  Just two people going on with their lives with no fear of the future. She's scared. It's right there just under the surface. Mixing in with her want and need of him.  

He never looks away from her as he runs his hands over  her hair, along her shoulders and down onto her arms. And he entwines his fingers with hers and smiles. It's shaky; giving away his own fears and his own worries. But he hopes it is enough. Prays that it's enough.

“It's going to be okay,” he vows. “I'm going to be okay. We're going to be fine.”

“Promise me you'll keep us safe. Promise me. Promise me you'll be okay.”

He knows he shouldn't.  The last time he promised her that, he'd nearly died right in front of her very eyes. But she needs to hear it.  She needs to feel safe and protected and he's the only one that can give her that.  

It's a blessing and a curse.

“I'll be okay,” he manages another feeble smile. “I won't let anything to happen to you. To our daughter.  And I'll be okay.”

“Because we kind of like having you around. I've sort of gotten used to waking up beside you every day and that sleepy smile you always give me. And I'd really miss that. I'd really miss that smile. I'd really miss so many things.”

He cradles her face in his hands, a thumb trailing over her lips.  “I'm going to be okay,” he insists, and then he kisses her, lips moving achingly slow against hers, hands moving from her face and sliding over her shoulders and down her arms, then reaching between them to find the hem of her tank top. Fingertips brushing against her skin as he peels it off of her body, tossing it onto the bed before he leans into her; his lips never leaving hers as he uses the full weight of his body to push her down onto the mattress.  He needs to feel her against him; skin to skin. He needs to be able to feel her heart beating against him.  Afraid that if he doesn't play his cards right, he may never get this chance again.

Her fingernails scrape down his back; deep enough to  break the surface and leave noticeable trails across his skin. Placing one hand on the mattress, he supports his weight with one arms as the other hand roams her body, mouth following in their wake. Soft, feathery kisses over her throat and across her collarbone, his hair tumbling into his eyes and grazing against her.

“Tyler...”

Fuck he loves the way it sounds coming out of her mouth. A soft, desperate plea as her body shifts beneath him; legs opening as his hand wanders over her thigh and then in between. Stroking the soft, supple flesh as he drops his head in order to take one of her nipples into his mouth. Rolling it around on his tongue, drawing it between his teeth, suckling gently.  And then he pulls back, blowing a steady stream of air on the moisten flesh just as he slips a finger inside of her.

She cries out, a mixture of his name and profanities, her entire body arching off the mattress.

“Shhhh...” he whispers, as his mouth and the tip of his nose travel through the valley between her breasts, the downward journey agonizingly slow. For both of them. His body sliding against the sheets as he moves down the bed,  a hand moving slowly along her thigh and around to the back of her knee. “...you have to be quiet. You'll wake the baby. And we have house guests.”

Nik and the new kid had insisted on staying the night. A hotel too far away if they got themselves into a spot of trouble. One bedding down in the nursery on a fold out cot,  the other on the couch.

“You make it a little hard to keep quiet,” she argues in a harsh whisper, and then has to clamp a hand over her mouth when his tongue delves into her navel and repeats the same action he had with her breast; thoroughly moistening the area before blowing on.

“Always so good for me,” he praises, as he presses a series of kisses from the back of her knee, all the way down to her ankle. Fingertips gliding against the bottom of her foot before his mouth moves upwards. Nibbling at her skin every so often, feeling the her goosebumps against his lips and his tongue.  “Right from the beginning,” he says, as his fingertips drift over that extra sensitive spot at the back of her knee. “Right from the beginning you gave me what I wanted.”

She opens her mouth to reply, all words lost when his mouth reaches her inner thighs; a strong hand pushing them open, his eyes on hers as he settles himself between her legs. The things that man can do with his mouth. And his hands.  Joining  together to create a very potent combination.  

“You are so beautiful,” he praises, as his presses a kiss to her mound. “You're so beautiful and I love you. So much.”

She tries to respond with the same but he is eager to get to work; all thoughts and all words disappearing from consciousness as his tongue trails over her clit.  The pace is slow. Torturous. Even to him.  His cock aching, desperate to be inside of her again. And her limbs tense and her feet dig into the mattress and her hands fists the sheets.  

“Tyler...” it's needy now. She's pleading. And he's relieved. Because even he has had enough of taking it slow.  

Slipping two fingers inside of her, he immediately zeros in on that magical spot inside of her. One no ever man had been able to find. In fact, she had confessed back in Dhaka that he was the first guy that had ever made her cum. That she'd never actually enjoyed sex enough to completely and totally relax enough to allow herself to enjoy it. And previous partners had never taken the time to make it a good experience.

They hadn't worshipped her like he had. Even that first night together.

The orgasm is fast and quick. Brought on by his fingers and the incessant pressure of his tongue, and when the first hint of noise starts tumbling from her mouth, he reaches up and clamps a hand against her lips.  Continuing to lick and suck until she's begging him to stop because it's all just too much. Too sensitive. Too soon. Her hands in his hair once again, attempting to pull him up.

Her eyes are closed when he surfaces, a satisfied, proud grin plastered across his face. Her juices coat his mouth and his beard, and he likes it off of his lips, enjoying the taste.

“You okay?” he asks, as he removes his hand from her mouth.

“Fuck you, Tyler Rake. Fuck you for being so good at that. For being so good at some many things.”

“Especially the naughty things, yeah?”

“Especially those.”

He sits back on his heels, a hand resting on her fluttering stomach, waiting for her to come down from her high. And when she does, she pounces on him, catching him off guard and sending him toppling onto his back.

“Not every day you managed to get one over on me, love,” he says, smirking as those greedy hands immediately go for his boxer briefs. Normally he wore nothing; enjoying bare skin against the cool sheets and the way his naked body felt against hers. But with company in the house, a little modesty was a must.  

He enjoys this side of her; aggressive, not afraid to take what she wants. She'd always been a selfless lover; willing to reciprocate. Never having to be asked. Taking it upon herself to make sure he was satisfied.  Even on the first night together, when he'd been surprised that she'd been so keen on returning the favour.  And she was good. So fucking good. And he remembers how he'd lay there afterwards, trying to catch his breath, trying to orientate himself with his surrounding, to realize what had just happened.  She had just watched him. A smirk on her face and a devilish glitter in her eyes as she swallowed every last drop.

“Fuck...” he groans when she takes him into her mouth; a hand curling around the shaft.

His eyes close and his hands burrow themselves in her hair.  That soft mouth and slick tongue  working together to drive him insane. Her hand pumping and stroking.  She was incredible; the enthusiasm with which she tended to him, the skill in which she possessed, the way she needed nothing more than subtle guidance from those hands in her hair.

“Jesus Christ...” he breathes, when she proceeds to deep throat him. He is long and thick. Much bigger than any other man she had ever been with.  He had sensed as much when she had penetrated her for the first time that night back in Dhaka and she'd winced.  He'd been worried about that; he didn't want to cause her any pain. Hurting her was the last thing that he ever  wanted to do.  

She removes his cock from her mouth; tongue concentrating on the head as her hand continues to jerk him off.  Pleased with the reaction she is getting from him;  the heavy breathing, the hands gripping her hair, the movements of his hips.  And his groan is much louder when she takes him fully into her mouth again. His hand painfully tight in her hair.

“I don't want to come like this,” he pants “I don't want to come in your mouth.”

“It's okay,” she assures him.

“No. No it's not,” he insists, and wrapping an arm around her waist, effortlessly picking her up and dumping her onto her back.  “I'll pull out,” he says, as her legs open and he settles himself between them.”

“You don't have to,” she says. “It's okay.”

“You're sure? Because we haven't been using anything and you said you weren't ready for another baby so...”

“It's okay,” she repeats, and wrapping her legs around his waist, presses her heels into the small of his back. She curls a finger around the chain he wears around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss that muffles the cry that escapes her when he presses into her. Burying himself to the hilt; a low, feral moan escaping his lips at the sensation of being so deep.

He moves above her; forearms on the mattress supporting his weight.  His eyes on her face  the entire time. Their lips brushing against each other, his hair over his eyes and brushing against her forehead. Long, deep strokes that has her arching her back with each one,  her heels pressing into him.

“Look at me...” he gently orders, and those dark eyes flicker open. “...you're mine,” he growls. “Mine. You always will be.  Tell me. I want to hear it.”

“I'm yours, Tyler.  I'll always be yours.”

He smirks in approval, then covers her mouth with his own.  His tongue immediately searching for hers; kissing her hard and long and deep as he continues to move inside of her.  Until her own hips are arching off the bed and meeting him thrust for thrust.  And she once again yanks his head up by the hair,  and he shivers as she licks a path from his Adam's apple all the way to the underside of his skin.  

She licks her lips. Enjoying the taste of his cock that still lingers. And the hint of sweat.

He removes one hand from the mattress and reaches back for her leg; fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls it up onto his help. Allowing him to get even deeper. His eyes closing, head falling forward at the sheer pleasure of it.

Her hands roam his shoulders and his back; exploring every inch of those muscles. Loving the way they feel under her touch; the way they bulge and twist and turn. He's a thing of beauty.  All man; musky smell, wiry body hair, sheer power and force. A specimen unlike any other she's ever been with.   And she bites back a cry as he  unleashes a harder thrust; harder than any of the others, one that pushes her up the bed.  His stamina is the thing legends are made, but she can tell he's close. The way his eyes darken and his brow furrows,  how he exhales deeply and lets it go in a long, ragged breath.

She lifts her head to kiss him. Capturing his bottom lip between her teeth. Unspoken permission to let go. And he takes it,  still holding himself up on his forearm, his free hand fisting  her hair, yanking and twisting it.

He angles his hip just right; so that every thrust creates contact on her clit.   Removing his hand from her hair and covering her mouth when she comes; the scream muffled against his palm. An orgasm so powerful that her toes curl and her entire body stiffens and tears spill down her cheeks.  And as she continues to convulse around him, he slips an arm under her and then sits back on his heels; the pressure of his fingers bruising soft skin as he yanks her towards him by the hips.  The thrusts sloppy and fast, until he's coming as well. Biting back her name as it threatens to erupt from her lips. Coming deep inside of her, hot and thick bathing her womb, holding her tight against him until her clenching inner muscles drain him dry.

“Fuck...me...” he groans, and flops over onto his back. Chest heaving. A thin sheen of sweat covering his entire body.  His eyes closed, arms limp at his sides.

The mattress moves underneath him, and when he opens his eyes she's beside him on her stomach, face turned towards him, smiling . That sleepy little Cheshire cat grin she always gets after sex.  

“You good?” he asks.

“Well I can’t see properly and I can't feel my legs right now. But I think I'll be okay.  You?”

“I think I might need to hit the gym harder. I'm losing my touch.”

“As if,” she grins, and then lets out a long, loud yawn.  It was one of two things for her after sex; sleep or food. Tonight it was going to be sleep.

Raking a hand through his hair, he sits up and gathers up the top blanket, draping it around his shoulders before lying down beside her and pulling her tight against him.

“I love you,” she whispers, as one of his large palms strokes her hair. “Please don't ever doubt that.”

“I won't,” he promises. “And I love you too. More than I ever thought I could love someone. More than I ever thought possible.”

She presses a kiss to that scar on the side of his throat, then nestles her face in that spot between his neck and his shoulder.

He closes his eyes, attempting to find sleep.

But that sense of doom returns.

The sense that they are living in the calm before the storm.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Dormant Emotions [Part Two] Promise [Vinsmoke Ichiji]

I decided to change the story tags, because what I had planned for this final chapter never came to happen. Eris was supposed to make out with Ichiji, but instead I wrote it differently. Not so much the smut I promised, but there is a second part to DE that will bring their relationship to a head, so hopefully that will sate everyone who likes this story.

Please enjoy. Again, I apologize.

“You look different, somehow.”

Eris returned her attention to the handsome man in front of her, seated at the table. He was smirking; an expression that compelled her to blush and look away. Mulling over what he had said, Eris puckered her brow and dug her fingers into the material of her mini dress.

She couldn’t quite grasp the issue he was trying to address.

“I don’t see how. Besides the getup, I haven’t altered my appearance whatsoever.” Eris picked up her wine glass and took a cautious sip; an acquired taste she learned wasn’t too unpleasant when paired with pasta and sourdough bread. Currently on her 2nd glass, she was feeling rather good.

“It’s not that,” Ichiji mentioned. He tilted his head and stared at her, carefully studying the nervous woman. She was cute when she flushed, but at the moment Ichiji was too curious to comment about it. He knew she looked different the first time he saw her; it wasn’t something he could forget. Watching her lick her bottom lip, it suddenly came back to him. He snapped his fingers, earning her attention – a spark erupted from the sudden friction. “A snake … you had a massive snake around your waist. I remember because it was staring at me strangely.”

Eris laughed gently. “Her name is Tanis. She’s my weapon, in addition to being my pet. The reason she might have been staring at you is because she tends to size up what she wants to eat.” She was joking of course. Tanis was big in terms of size – half the length of Salome; the Snake Princess’s pet – but would never try and eat a human.

“That’s pleasant,” Ichiji snorted. “Is that why you left her behind … in fear that she’d eat me?”

She could see that he was teasing her and bobbed in agreement. “I suppose it would be a shame if I let her. Despite everything, you were generous enough to take me out.” Furthermore, her pet favored the Straw Hats a great deal – she wouldn’t risk an opportunity to have fun with Luffy.

“Generous isn’t the word I’d use.”

Eris puckered her brow again. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” She returned her attention to a crowd a people on the floor, dancing to a live band – the conversation was leading to place she’d rather not venture.

“You sound disappointed,” Ichiji pointed out. Another smirk curled up his lip.

Scoffing, the young woman shot a brief look at him. “Do I? Because I certainly don’t feel disappointed. Or were you hoping that I’d think this was all planned because you had an interest in me?”

“The night is still young, and that mouth of yours is something to take interest in,” Ichiji mentioned. He clearly saw the mortification redden her cheeks. Changing topics, he asked. “Do you want to join them?”

Eris coughed, having nearly choked on her wine. She should have known that he’d notice her staring. “I was just curious, and besides, I don’t know how to dance.”

He laughed dryly and unfastened the clasp beneath his chin, freeing himself of the long fabric draped over his shoulder. Once he stood, Ichiji offered up his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“You know h-how to dance?”

Again he moved his hand closer, urging her to take it. “I’m a prince, remember? Don’t overestimate me. Now come on.”

Eris timidly placed her hand in his and allowed him to guide her to the dance floor. Her body was moved into position against his own, and for a moment she panicked, until she noticed that everyone was this close to one another. Mirroring them, Eris wrapped her arms around the attentive man’s shoulders and followed his steady lead. The steps weren’t hard to master, not as she thought.

“Not what I expected,” she admitted honestly. “I’ve never been this close to someone before. It’s bizarre … but also pretty comforting.”

Ichiji grinned, “You have a habit of saying what’s on your mind, don’t you?”

“There’s no reason to lie to you … which is why I’m not sorry about calling you names at the Tea Party.” Eris still couldn’t remember doing this, but she must have had a good reason.

“So you admit it now?”

She nodded her head in agreement. “I imagine you are lots of things, but a liar is not one of them.”

“I was right about you then. You are not suited to be a pirate; the fact you parade around as one baffles me.”

Eris increased her grip on his shoulders. She was irritated with him thinking so lowly of her; of her crew. But, she knew no amount of screaming at him would change his mind – she was beginning to understand why Sanji disliked his family so much.

Instead of supporting her motives, Eris merely sighed.

“I have my reasons,” she added quietly.

This made Ichiji laugh.

He wasn’t sure why, but he took delight in the fact that she was so guarded around him. It made him want to know more about her; Eris was a riddle he wanted to solve.

“Have you any idea how maddening this is?”

Eris stared at him in uncertainty. “I don’t … you were the one wh––

“Not a word,” Ichiji commanded. He pulled her closer until her face was pressed comfortably against his chest. Relieved that she didn’t immediately reject him, he rested against her and swayed gently to the music.

Honestly, he was enjoying this.

--

Eris knew that she had messed up; she knew that there would be consequences for her actions. Once she got a taste of him, she’d never want to give him up.

Her logic was misplaced the second they left the restaurant, and she let him lay his mouth on her. He never even kissed her lips – just her right cheek – but the instant he moved away, she pursued him. Her mouth pressed hastily against his and frankly she thought he’d return her affection, but he did not.

Ichiji forced himself away, holding the staggered woman at arm’s length – her warm skin made it hard for him to do so.

“You have had too much to drink. We both know this isn’t something you want,” he stated.

She smiled. It was true, but honestly she didn’t care. The alcohol wasn’t impairing her thoughts; it was making her feel unshakable. She reached up and held onto his arms.    

“Since when are you entitled to speak for me?”

He snorted at this. “I am making an effort to be nice, beastie. Don’t test me.”

“Such an amusing thing for a warmonger to say. Do you normally make an effort for others … or am I special?”

Ichiji slid himself from her grasp and beckoned her closer. Wanting her to make the first move, he didn’t touch Eris until she draped her arms over his shoulder and smiled up at him. The willingness in her eyes urged him to lean down and place his warm lips onto hers.

Anxious at first, she allowed Ichiji to kiss her until his head sloped to deepen the contact. This was new to her, but she learned quickly and matched his movements, getting a soft sigh from him that sent her thoughts racing. What other noises would he make for her? She doubted that she’d ever hear them all, or grow bored of them for that matter.

She was partially right.

Before the kiss got any deeper, he pulled away. Eris tried to follow, but her lips connected to his cheek instead. She whined in protest at this.

“Don’t be so hasty,” Ichiji said with a laugh. He brought her into his arms, letting her rest against him. “There’s always next time.”

He frankly did not know why he had said this, but it wasn’t a lie. One way or another he’d see Scarlet Eris again.

[okimargarvez]

SCREW TO THE LIMIT - 1

Original title: Vite sull’orlo del baratro.

Prompt: prostitution, sacrifice, danger.

Warnings: A.U., mention of sex content.

Genre: angst, drama, family, romantic, smut.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez, Luke’s son, BAU team, others OC, Derek Morgan.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot.

Legend: 💏😘😈👓🔦🐶👨‍👩‍👧‍👦💍🎲🎈.

Song mentioned: none.

Screw to the Limit- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

PART 1

He keeps hear the baby's cry even if he is alone in his head.

He almost forgets it, then sees the number on the calendar and everything rising from the deep up again.

He never pronounces that name. Not even in his mind. He fears its power. It's an irrational fear and not for this less powerful.

The opposite.

 LPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPL

 A creak, then the door opens wide. This is the noise that announces their first meeting. No bell or trumpet of judgment. No choir of angels. Nor thunderbolt; just a pair of eyes that look at the female body as if it were a piece of furniture, because for him she's something like this: a piece to be included in the scheme of his work.

Penelope Garcia. He read her name in the folder they gave him. She can't avoid being amazed to observe her long blond hair with a few pink locks. He obviously expected a Latin chica and maybe they sent him for this reason. No, it's a lie, he knows perfectly well that they sent him here because of his past and his obsession. All the members of the team know it, practically the whole FBI. He doesn't care so much. The woman gives him her back and doesn't seem to notice that a person has entered. She wears a white dress with black polka dots, very... childish. And between the hair what looks like a bow, in Minnie style, or Daisy. Yet she is one of them, a prostitute, a whore, depending on whether he want to be fine or vulgar, the meaning doesn't change. One of those who practice the oldest profession in the world.

Since he had begun to serve the law he had seen so many. Too many. All different for style of hair, clothes, way to talk, pose... yet with the same look sad, faded and, in the worst cases, accusatory, against a society that hid them in the day behind false moralism, but not disdain them with the arrival of the night. But when he goes around the table to sit in front of the blonde, he remains surprised for a second time in not noting that expression. There is certainly sadness. But there is no sign of stun, given by drugs and alcohol that are usually taken voluntarily (at least in part) not to think about what they are doing (and so change their mind). In any case, the woman's face is soft, sweet. And proud. From her dark and determined eyes, his gaze goes downward more, to the spectacle left to be show by a generous neckline. For a nanosecond, the mix between that innocent air as child and the exuberant forms left to glimpse just enough to tease, confuse him. Then he returns himself.

-Penelope, right?- naturally he receives no answer. She doesn't even look at him. She seems indifferent to his claim. -Do you know why you're here?- she shrugs, showing that she is listening, but isn't interested. He sighs, trying to keep calm. It irritates him to be ignored. -We know you knew Melissa. You were friends?- nothing. -You two protect each other?- so far he used a neutral tone. He tries changing tactics. -Hey, I know you're scared, but we don't want to hurt you.- he doesn't even know why he insists on using the plural. -We don't even accuse you.- the low, delicate and understanding voice doesn't seem to have any effect. -We want... I just want to find the bastard who killed Melissa and many other innocent girls.- yet it's difficult to get out of the stereotype of they in part asked for it. Even for someone like him. He stretches out his hand and barely touches hers, which retracts her immediately, almost disgusted, indignant. For a moment he is crossed by a strange thought: to try again and take her against her will. He decides again to change the way to ask himself. If good manners don't work... He extracts the photos from the folder. Not the ones with the smiling victims, before being killed, and maybe even ending up on the street. No, the bloody ones, on the place of the find, on the anatomic table, after the autopsy. He spares her nothing.

And it was the right choice because Penelope begins to waver, finally reacts. She swallows and shake hands until her knuckles become white. -That's enough! Enough, I don't know anything! Take this off out of my sight!- just disguising a smug smile, he performs as required.

-You aren't telling the truth. Kayla and others have hinted at something that happened to you, before arriving in Virginia.- tactical break. -The same man from which you managed to escape could be our unsub, an unknown subject.- he hastens to add as an explanation. -In other words, the bastard who did this. We need you to tell us this story.- and suddenly the woman explodes, she stands up with such impetus as to overturn the chair.

Her face is red, purple and deformed by anger. -Do you know what I think, instead?- she passes from formal terms to colloquial one. She crosses the table and reaches him. -That in reality you are a maniac and that you are enjoying it badly, in this situation. That do you want me to tell you all about so that you can relive it in your beautiful little head, because you don't have the balls to make it happen.- she lowers in his direction and Luke can see other layers of skin, besides the small of the breast. -I'm sorry- he raises the card hanging on the pocket of his shirt and lets it fall down -SSA Luke Alvez, but I'll not give you this satisfaction.- the man is displaced, but doesn't expect her next move. -Watch a good porn, tonight, ok?- and her hand ends up palpating right that sensitive spot not too protected by the fabric of the pants. Already stiffened because of her moves, after being touched, the 'little friend is even more hard. Penelope pretends to be surprised. .I was right.- she exclaims, almost satisfied.

But the expression enjoyed doesn't last long. Luke in fact stands up in his turn, forcing her to move back until her back meets the coldness of the wall. It's the man's turn to feel pleasure in overpowering her, just because of the difference in height between them. -Be careful, pequena, you play with fire and you have no idea of ​​the risks you take...- the body pressed on that woman's. -You feel it, do not you?- he whispers in her ear. -I know that you like it, and I also know that you would want it.- he doesn't let her practically breathe. -But if this auction will penetrate you, it wouldn't be comparable to other times when you've been fuck. It would be another thing. You would touch the sky with a finger and then you would beg me on your knees, to have more, and again and again...- he's making fun of her. Penelope looks at him badly, but his words and gestures have nevertheless had the desired effects. Fortunately, Luke has no evidence to this effect. After a moment he leaves her free but remains close enough. -Now that we have clarified this point, your tongue is loosen and your memory is refreshed?- Penelope just look at him and he decides to surrender, at least for today, before making some worse mess.

 LPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPL

 Once he is safe within his walls, that thought doesn't abandon him. He hates the fact that he couldn't make her spill the beans. He was usually able to complete such a task in no time. He is the best in this field. Because he knows which buttons to touch with women. But this Penelope is a tough girl, one of those who might even make moved out; if only she really wanted it. And he must admit that she intrigues him. If they hadn't been in a Bureau room, complete with cameras, he wouldn't just be limited to threats. He would have put her in her place and every moan would have been a supplication...

-Daddy, what are you thinking?- a voice that bears several traces of childhood (missing a few years before it starts to change) brings him back to earth. In front of him a plate of pasta just touched, practically cold. In front of a child with the same color of his hair but green and awake eyes (inherited from his mother) who looks at him waiting for the answer.

-Work. Dad is a bit messed up, in this period... - he smiles, but his son's reply arrives very quick.

-Only in this period?- and they both laugh.

Even after having tucked in Adam (who protests because he says he has become too big for something like that, but he knows that deep down he still likes this kind of attention) and lying down in turn, he can't get rid of her or sleep a wink. He tries to take a cold shower, but he can't cool his hot spirits don't and in the end, he is forced to vent concretely those thoughts how he can, going with hand and imagination.

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee  @arses21434 @kathy5654 @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @thinitta   @myhollyhanna23 @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado  @shyladystudentfan @cosmicmelaninflower @avengerquake123 vanuusims

[kirawritesaboutevanstan]

The anchor in their lives - Prologue

Summary: When two super soldiers lives get turned upside down, they move into an apartment in Brooklyn, trying to deal with their past and figure out their futures. So what happens when the apartment next door gets a new resident, one who has the potential to change their lives in ways they could never imagine. The question is; Will they let her?

(I suck at summaries, I'm sorry)

Pairings: Stucky x Original Character Annie (eventually)

Disclaimer:  This story may contain strong language, polygamy sex, mental health talks( anxiety, depression, PTSD and so on. If you're not comfortable with any of those topics, you might not want to even begin reading this series. 

Word count: Around 900

Interested in reading more of my stories? Well you can find them right here

Warnings: This one there has none, it's more of a backstory...

A/N: First of all, Thanks to the wonderfully sweet @holland-stan-posts for all your help with piecing this story together, and of course your neverending support. You’re a babe x

Second of all, this is my first series and I'm very excited about this! I have no idea how many chapters this will be. I'm just going with the flow of the story. 

This will be a story filled with fluff, angst and just anything else I feel like fits.

There will be smut in this, but its no the focus point. No, I really like to focus on four points; 1. The undeniable love between the two soldiers 2. Their struggles with this century and their pasts 3. Annie’s patience and ability to make them feel more comfortable in this world and helping them find their old selves again. 4. The relationship that they each form with Annie and how she helps them shape theirs.

This also follows the majority of the background story of both soldiers, but I refuse to acknowledge Infinity war so it's my own little universe and I will change it however it makes sense for the actual story.

This is a slow burn, so hang in there - I don't want to rush anything.

The first chapter will be posted shortly, let me know if you want to be tagged x

Btw, if anyone wants to make a mood board or something like that, then you are more than welcome. Message me and we will figure out something x

okay, I'm done yapping on now! ENJOY!

Prologue:

Steve’s and Bucky's lives had been turned upside down so many times, both separately and together, that they found it hard to figure out what was up or what was down.

And this time it was no exception.

After the whole situation with the accords (Civil War), everything changed. The team split up into two groups and the Avengers Disassembled. The members scattered around the globe.

Steve didn't know much about what happened to his old team members.

All he knew was that Vision and Wanda left America to start a life together somewhere far away. Sam found a girl and got married. Clint went back to his farm and actually retired this time. Ant-man went back to doing whatever it was that he did.

The other side of the team, the ones to sign the accords, started working for the government. Steve had no contact with them. Especially not Tony, you know after the whole Bucky killed Tony's parent's thing; he hadn't exactly been welcoming towards them.

It was all a big mess, one that had James Buchanan Barnes in the middle of it all, a fact he wasn't pleased about. There was so much heat surrounding him, which only seemed to agitate the super soldier.

So Steve did what he thought was best; he left with Bucky.

They moved back to Brooklyn; Steve was determined to help Bucky heal and get acquainted with the 21 century. And also to get his old friend back, not this scarred and broken piece of a man he had in front of him, no the actual Buck, his old pal that he once knew.

Steve made a deal with the government. For their crimes to be pardoned, he had to promise that they would live a normal life, no crime fighting, and no more Captain America. And Steve agreed to those terms, although it pained him. But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make for the possibility of getting his old pal back.

They moved into an apartment on the top floor. It was a nice place, it wasn't very big, but it was airy with huge windows. A fact that helped Bucky not feel so trapped all the time. They also had a kind of roof balcony, which Bucky loved being out on. Especially at night.

Because of the way the building was made they had the top floor almost to themselves. The elevator only went up to the 7th floor, and then they had to take a staircase the rest of the way. There was only one more living on that floor. The rest was underneath them.

Their neighboring apartment had a constant flow of residents moving in and out rather quickly, probably because of Bucky screaming throughout the night. And eventually people stopped moved in, and it just stayed empty.

Steve did his best to decorate their home with a mix of things from the forties and more modern elements. Like a smart tv, that he barely knew how worked. But then also a vinyl player for their music. He did his best and Bucky appreciated his efforts. A mixture of furniture that they knew from their lives and more modern ones.

They were living a comfortable life just the two of them.

Steve had gotten a job as an accountant, it wasn't his dream job, but the pay was good. And he was good at it, being a very organized person in general helped. Steve had gotten a lot of snarky comments at first when he applied for the job, but eventually, they died down. 

Steve was doing good, at least that's what he kept telling himself. Refusing to acknowledge the pain inside of the loss of his team members.

Bucky, however, was barely holding on, so the long hours where Steve was at work was a hard time for him. A time where he was left with his own mind, and he hated every second of it.

Steve felt awful leaving him like that, but he also knew that he needed the money or else they couldn't afford their apartment.

Bucky was struggling to deal with his new found freedom and the 21 century in general. Everything was confusing, and he always feared it was all a dream and one day he would wake up and be back in that horrid place. Back in the grasp of Hydra. He was constantly on edge and profoundly confused by technology.

He also hated how much Steve had sacrificed for him, believing he wasn't worth all that. Because he could see how hard it was for him to give it up, but he did it for him. He never understood why Steve had done all of that for him, but selfishly he was also so grateful that he had. He needed Steve more than he would ever like to admit and that terrified him more than anything else.

So here they are living in an apartment in Brooklyn, trying to deal with their past and figure out their futures.

So what happens when the apartment next door gets a new resident, one who has the potential to change their lives in ways they could never imagine. The question is; Will they let her?

Fin x

Next chapter...

(I know I used the last bits in the summary as well but I thought it was a nice summary and I suck at them so yeah..)

Hope you liked it! I'm very excited about this series and I hope it will turn out well.

Don’t be shy to provide me with any sort of feedback, I would love to hear your thoughts. xx

Taglist IS OPEN, just send me an ask or message specifying what you want to be tagged in. Or if you want to be removed, message me as well.

Permanent Taglist: @holland-stan-posts @bibegone

[bottomyoongies]

(Bottom) Yoongi Fic Recs

(please make sure to read the tags first!!)

(a few of these don’t have sex in them so not really a fully bottom yoongi fic rec but i like them so)

(a few are WIPs too)

Namjoon/Yoongi

come closer, tell a secret boy by JemKay

They must be testing Namjoon, with the new concept of tiny shorts, because never has he so badly wanted to devour Yoongi’s plush thighs.

you say you want passion (i think you found it) by JemKay

yoongi has a plan for his birthday and that’s to go out, get drunk, maybe have a questionable hookup, and definitely not think about the lowkey crush he may or may not have on his English tutor. that plan falls apart when kim namjoon walks through the door and jimin’s face lights up like christmas came early.

when the lights go out (run away with me) by JemKay

Yoongi’s soft when he’s tipsy, softer when he’s cold, and softest when Namjoon says “I love you.”

i’m all i’ve got (and i’d give it all to you) by namgi

Namjoon is overworked, and Yoongi just wants to help. But it’s never as simple as that.

salt skin, lazy smile by namgi

Namjoon thinks that Yoongi deserves nothing less than being worshipped. Like literal down-on-your-knees worship. So that’s exactly what he does.

i’m the king (and i’m down on my knees) by namgi

It starts with Namjoon laughing at Yoongi’s rap for Cypher Pt. 3. It doesn’t end with him still laughing.

c’mon, c’mon (show me what you’re all about) by namgi

Namjoon is struck with an idea and Yoongi goes along with it, just because it’s Namjoon.

purples and blues (look good on you) by namgi

In which Namjoon fails at being subtle and Yoongi has impeccable timing.

can’t feel my face (when i’m with you) by yoonseoktv

“I was texting manager-hyung,” Namjoon breathes. “He left us the van.”

Yoongi pauses to look up at him, blinking. A slow grin stretches across Namjoon’s face, too sweet to believe. “Okay,” he agrees, fulfills a random compulsion to smooth a strand of bleached-dry hair behind Namjoon’s ear. “Let’s go.”

이사 (Move) by The HalesNyx

tumblr prompt from anon: “Sugamon fake dating AU it could be like the end of the agreement where they realize that you know they love each other with a little background to the situation. Smut plzzz”

Namjoon hadn’t intended to hurt anyone; not himself, not even the company he was suing. More than anything, though, Namjoon had not intended to hurt Yoongi. Namjoon never wanted to hurt Yoongi, his best friend, the one aspect of his life that was hopeful and happy. But he had; he’d hurt Yoongi, hurt their friendship, hurt whatever else they could have been. Namjoon wasn’t letting Yoongi go, though, not without a fight. Not after everything.

yeah, i’m the trend (yeah, we’re the culprits) by gunhee

when the money for their mixtape runs dry, yoongi and namjoon do the only thing they can do. no, not selling organs. the other thing. it goes catastrophically, as expected.

six to nine (we’ll play the game) by gunhee

namjoon expected a lot of things when he called a sexline one night as a dare. yoongi was not one of them.

marks of my body by mintyoongee

Neither of them have gone very far from just hickeys, but now, seeing the slight purple brown that blooms from under Yoongi’s large jacket (that the cordinoonas forced him to wear to cover it up, saying the makeup wasnt enough), all Namjoon wants to do is pin his boyfriend down and make him beg for the marks, even instilling some of his own on the younger male.

Apex Predator by JemKay

An apex predator, also known as an alpha predator or apical predator, is a predator residing at the top of a food chain upon which no other creatures prey.

rocket by boozinos

Yoongi just wants to know how big Namjoon's dick is, okay.

Say You Won't Let Go. by write_the_impossible

Yoongi doesn't think that Namjoon is sexually attracted to him anymore. Namjoon sets out to prove him wrong.

adventures of parents sugamon and kids!taekook by dimpledprincejoon

25 parts of pure family fluff ^^ and a part or two with some sex

escape velocity by fatal (cumrich)

yoongi owns a bar at the end of the universe. everyone is welcome to visit but only namjoon is welcome to stay.

pat through the dark by fatal (cumrich)

the end of the school term is always hard, but luckily yoongi has namjoon.

matching your footsteps to mine by sugrpill (opinionoutpost)

There’s always a moment after a performance where Yoongi is certain all his veins and arteries are trying to vibrate out of his skin. Namjoon rides the same high as Yoongi but differently; Yoongi usually lays there, dazed and immobile, for a solid five minutes before he even thinks about washing off the stench of the venue while Namjoon jitters and fidgets, his body physically trying to work the excess adrenaline out of his system.

(In which Yoongi and Namjoon fuck to get rid of that post-show rush.)

Without You There's Nothing by syubology

Yoongi gets sick and Namjoon is Not Worrying.

First Snow by freelancejouster

Yoongi thinks snow is special. Namjoon thinks Yoongi is.

we are the ones we have been waiting for by ienveeus

‘I don’t know why you bother with the screaming Min fucking Yoongi,’ Prisoner 2872 says and Yoongi blushes at the use of his name. At the word tucked in between that he’d used so eloquently just moments before. ‘The walls are soundproof, the only person who can hear you is me. And I’m as trapped as you are.’

Or: Yoongi and Namjoon are mutants locked in adjacent cells with a hole cutting into the wall between them.

Warm Fuzzies by signifying_nothing

namjoon wants to be kind. anything he gets in return for that is just icing.

Electric Blanket (You're Warm in My Arms) by signifying_nothing

so yoongi and namjoon definitely don't have enough money to fill up the oil tank to heat the house, but they don't really need it.

Old Friend by writernumb

When Yoongi noticed that he'd received a voice message on his phone, he didn't expect that listening to it would cause him to be sitting in his favorite cafe, his foot shaking from nerves, arriving much earlier than the time they'd decided to meet. Despite himself, he reminisces, about the man he loved; his old friend.

Hoseok/Yoongi

Jung Hoseok (Is Not A Poet) by deannach_na_realtai

Jung Hoseok is not a poet. But he thinks he can recognize poetry when he sees it writhing beneath him at 3 in the morning.

i can’t hide it (i’m like this every day) by sirradel

It wasn’t like Yoongi didn’t want to tell Hoseok about what he did to make money. He wanted to tell him, he did, but the last time he had come clean about his work to a partner they left him with a few tense words and a broken heart. Hoseok was different, Yoongi knew that, but he couldn’t help his fear that Hoseok would end up leaving him just like the others.

No. It would have to wait for another day.

lil red by noonagon

“oh, my, what large eyes you have.” “all the better to see you with, my dear.”

or where yoongi and hoseok play more games

seize my careless heart by willinglywastingmytime

yoongi honestly just wanted some company. he just doesn’t understand the implications of texting his boyfriend ‘my parents are out of town, wanna come over?’

hoseok is happy to teach him.

All my days (I’ll know your face) by inkingbrushes

Something about Yoongi has Hoseok feeling like he’s fine, like he’s going to be okay. It might be nostalgia. Or it might be that he just feels at home with Yoongi.

(Or, the one where Hoseok proposes in public and Yoongi blurts out, are you out of your fucking mind?)

Update: bonus chapter (pwp, basically) added.

Take It (Off) by collisions

Fuck, Hoseok. F u c k him.

(But most importantly Hoseok needs to fuck Yoongi)

Neck Deep by MarionetteFtHJM

Yoongi just couldn’t live his life as an idol in peace. Hoseok had to barge in, sunshine radiating from his smile and fingers warm and touching places. Yoongi hated change, but this one (he hated to admit it) was a good one.

setting fires by hobitxt

hoseok’s eyes have that glint in them– the dangerous, playfully dark one that makes something hot and desperate churn in yoongi’s stomach, and his breath hitches as he quickly turns his head to the side in an attempt to hide his face, tugging ineffectively at the handcuffs that hold his arms over his head.

(or: gratuitous yoonseok smut. everything else was too inappropriate to be set as a summary.)

Single Pringle by EVOLustory

Where Yoongi owns a restaurant that is a date hot-spot and he is single and salty at all the couples streaming into his restaurant on a daily basis. Not only that, but somewhere along the way he's got himself a couple of gay regulars that won't go away. And maybe someone who makes him a little less salty at the end too. 

fives, sixes, and sevens. by cowntdown

yoongi's life is built on routines, rules, and restrictions, but there are six boys that help him cope.

(in which BTS is a six-member group, but yoongi happens to be the seventh member.)

[beware of the heavy themes, romance is minimum; it’s mostly focused on yoongi’s relationship with the band and his mental health]

Seokjin/Yoongi

No Words by strangedesires

Everyone saw their budding love, everyone but themselves.

하루만, 나는네꺼야 (Just One Day, You’re Mine) by cheesuga

It took years for Yoongi to get used to falling asleep on his feet. It takes just one day for Seokjin to turn his life upside-down.

{this is a WIP}

Tactile by novilunar

When Yoongi starts going into heat, Seokjin is just a phone call away

If You're a Snake, I'm a Snake by iamnotaprodigy

Yoongi can't believe that he ever thought Seokjin would be a Hufflepuff.

In which Yoongi and Seokjin are two different kinds of Slytherins, but they complement each other well and they wouldn't have it any other way.

The Garden of Words by miskeen

just a lazy sunday afternoon with a pair of boyfriends

(there’s no porn in this. i know it sounds like it’s going one way in the beginning but i promise there’s no top yoongi or any sex ^^’)

Jimin/Yoongi

Of Spiced Honey and Apples by tinycloverspot

One month of separation across a seemingly infinite sea and Jimin was finally back in Yoongi’s arms. Jimin was finally back home.

September by TheHalesNyx

“Three, and most annoyingly, Jimin was beautiful, and handsome, and he had the cutest smile Yoongi had ever seen. In short, Yoongi, in broad daylight, without a trace of fever in his blood, was freakishly attracted to the young alpha, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information.“

I’ll take care of you by prkjimin

“Can I take care of you, hyung?” The question rolls off Jimin’s tongue easily, a simple request that has Yoongi’s heart hammering in his chest and his face heating up. He can feel Jimin’s hand on his hip, pushing his sweater up higher and rubbing at the pale, exposed skin.

a.k.a soft, stressed out Yoongi ft. helpful Jimin

You’re losing your words (We’re speaking in bodies) by prkjimin

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut, teeth biting into the fabric of his pillow tight enough that his jaw aches, but he’s so determined to not make a noise, refuses to embarrass himself in front of his younger group mate. His body shakes with the power it takes to keep silent.

aka that one fic where Jimin rims Yoongi.

such a fool by shrdmdnssftw

Yoongi really hopes the new neighbour doesn’t hate them. It’s not exactly quiet, a household of two twenty-something year old males, but throwing a three year old girl into the equation makes for a whole different level of noise.

Or, basically, kidfic, where Yoongi and his daughter live with Namjoon, and Jimin moves next door.

Taehyung/Yoongi

the only thing i know is you’re my baby by rapsucka

Taehyung has always needed and Yoongi has always been more than willing to give.

unnatural love by darkparadises

taehyung, an omega, encounters yoongi, a type of omega he’s never met before.

a bolt out of the blue by softnebula

Company parties fucking rock. Because, to Taehyung, it often means post-company party shenanigans.

I didn’t know that I was starving (‘til I tasted you) by eclairdeluxe

His Ma always did tell him the first meal of the day was the most crucial.

Forever by signifying_nothing

the problem with having an immortal lover is that someday you will die, and they will be alone. taehyung does not want to face the reality of this.

{there’s hinted sugakookie but no feelings, just sex}

Simple by TheOrgasmicSeke

This is Yoongi’s favorite part.

Train To Busan by TheOrgasmicSeke

One seemingly normal Friday morning in Seoul, South Korea, Min Yoongi boards a train with his son in hopes of getting to Busan so the boy can spend his fourth birthday with his mother. Things do not go exactly as planned.

Hearteyes by waterlemons

Taehyung is a mess in every sense of the word. 

Jungkook/Yoongi

because it’s a meaningless dream anyway by hakho

when chuseok comes around, the world stands still for just a moment, and yoongi and jeongguk can finally catch their breaths.

Underground Rapper!Yoongi + Idol!Jungkook = Secret Fuck Buddies (with angst)

{this is apparently a sequel but you don’t have to read the other one to get this one}

you’re everything. by makemebegin

jeongguk is a flame and yoongi doesn’t mind getting burned

something that has turned into a non linear set of one shots told in the same universe as the spark in my bonfire heart .

*not all tags apply to every chapter.

Try Hard by tobiyolo_kun

Seokjin sighed exasperatedly, stopping to fiddle with the dog tag around his neck,"What do you think he’s been doing this whole time? Bringing you snacks during work, the flirting, the extra attention? For god’s sake Yoongi, the boy brought you flowers for the apartment after I moved out! He’s not trying to annoy you, or mess with your feelings or anything like that! He’s romancing you.”

Romancing? Who even used that word anymore? What was this? The Victorian era?

(Or: Jungkook has a thing for smol grumps, and Yoongi is oblivious.)

Nightstick by vhope

Jeongguk’s phone buzzed and lit up, dredging him from his fitful sleep. The digital clock on the table announced that it was too early in the morning for it to be anything other than one of two possibilities:

Either there was a major problem at the precinct and he was needed right away, or Min Yoongi was horny.

Chocolate Isn’t Just For Eating by TheOrgasmicSeke

He could tell Yoongi was getting impatient, the man shifting his hips and glancing at him but Jungkook would use a pen if he had to because there was no way he was going to let the chance to mark up Yoongi’s beautiful back slip through his fingers.

i'll catch you by skswriting

“Hyung you kind of have to let go of the wall.”

“I’m fine right here thank you very much.”

“Hanging onto the wall isn’t roller skating hyung.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“Yoongi.”

You Won’t Be Able to Take Your Eyes Off of Me by mylittlesunandstars

Jungkook kind of has a thing for Yoongi's ass. It doesn't take Yoongi long to notice. 

Polyamory

Monster Mash by TheOrgasmicSeke

Yoongi agreed to go to the party because Namjoon was his only friend and as much as he loathed to admit it, he needed more human interaction. Too bad humans weren’t exactly what he was about to get.

[maknae line/yoongi]

Break my bed (to make me wanna stay) by eclairdeluxe

Yoongi wants to try something new.

[taegikook]

In The Mood For Love by TheOrgasmicSeke

They didn’t need spoken words. They rarely did. Yoongi’s lips left enough words spread out in Jungkook’s skin and the soft appreciative noises the younger made were the only answers Yoongi would ever need.

[yoonminkook]

side note: the series is not strictly bottom yoongi but you can read this as a stand alone and the sex is only between sugakookie

The Boy In The Red Hood by Theawinde

When Yoongi escapes into the forest to get away from his bullies, he finds something he doesn't expect that changes his life forever.

[wip]

[taesobi]

'안녕’ (Hello) by sugadeprived

Hoseok woke up in an unusual Sunday morning.

[rapper line]

seems like it was just yesterday (we grew up a lot) by sugastruck

“you wound me, joonie,” hoseok gasps, that fucking smirk still plastered on his face, “i thought we were friends.” it hurts more than namjoon will ever admit and he grits his teeth. “yeah. were, not are. friends don't abandon each other without so much as a warning. or a goodbye.”

or

the story of how min yoongi, kim namjoon and jung hoseok grew up together, fell apart, and everything in between.

[rapper line]

Unconventional (but baby it works) by PhantomFlutist

Yoongi and Seokjin had a weird dynamic, but it worked for them. Until Yoongi met Namjoon, which threw a wrench in things in a really big way.

[namgijin]

we’re yours, you’re ours by strangedesires

“But if you all want me, then who am I to deny you of what you want?”

[everyone/yoongi]

Bonus: 

Vasco/Yoongi

(i’m not super familiar with vasco, an underground rapper, but these are so wonderfully written TT there’s an age difference since he’s in his 30s)

this is mine (like everything else) by fallingmin

yoongi just wants vasco to pay attention to him.

there is no denying (your kisses keep me flying) by house_laurie

Vasco always knows how to make Yoongi feel good.

the little things by house_laurie

“My son wants to meet you.”

puppy love by house_laurie

Person A and person B go out to walk their puppy. They play with their puppy in the park until the puppy gets tired. They lay down in the grass and person A starts falling asleep beside person B. Person B kisses person A and falls asleep on person A’s shoulder.

Bonus: The puppy falls asleep on both of them and everyone is happy.

whew i’m done! took forever bc i kept getting distracted and reading some of these again

one day i’ll make a real rec list

again, PLEASE READ THE TAGS for your own comfort

enjoy!

[leio13]

I was Tagged!!! Thrice!!! (Holy Cow...)

I’m back with 33 more questions to answer! I was gonna make a joke last time about it being the ultimate get-to-know-me post, but I guess not. Good thing I held off on that joke, huh.

1. Post the rules

2. Answer the questions given to you by the tagger

3. Write 11 questions of your own

4. And tag 11 people

First, I was tagged by the lovely @missmizpah! Thanks, Emily!

1. Opinion on nuts?

Nuts are alright. Honey nut roasted peanuts though are more than alright. They are some good stuff.

2. Favorite book genre?

Hmm... I don’t really have a favorite genre. I’m really picky about books and a lot of other things honestly but my pickiness applies to all genres. I just like books with complex characters really.

3. Worst injury/illness?

I don’t actually get seriously injured that often; however, there was this one time I dropped my metal water bottle on my thumb. It hurt like hell and there was some blood under the nail. No big deal, right? That’s what I thought too. And I don’t really remember the transition that well, but in a few days, the area under my thumb nail was a navy blue and swelling out under the nail. a lot. It was probably one of the grossest things I’ve seen. good thing my mom took before and after pictures before they drained it. Don’t worry though. I won’t be posting those here.

4. What attracts you to someone platonically?

Er... kindness, loyalty, respect, AKA the really cliche stuff, and uh, chivalry, I guess. Treat me like a princess (for some reason) and you’re halfway there!

5. What was the last dream you had?

I had an interesting dream about Ouma from NDRv3. I went to his house which was more of a shack since his single parent family was super poor. His dad said that Ouma was actually a good boy (I have doubts). Ouma owned a crap ton of rainbow shark plushies (he really liked sharks apparently), and some bad dudes who were pissed at Ouma chased us back to the school (which was apparently a safe place that we wanted to be at). I skipped some details, but that was basically it. Also, keep in mind that I’ve only seen up to the death of chapter 2 (haven’t even started the investigation yet), so I kind of just made these details up in my dream and don’t spoil me. Orz.

6. Are you someone who eats cough drops like candy?

I haven’t had cough drops since I was in eighth grade and thought was I was having an asthma attack and my inhaler wasn’t working. In hindsight, it was a panic attack, but I recall the cough drop working a bit strangely enough. Anyway, I don’t really eat cough drops, no.

7. Native language?

English.

8. What size shoes do you wear?

Size 8 apparently. I think some of my shoes are a 7 1/2 though.

9. What is your current hair length?

Around my shoulders.

10. One habit you’re sure is specific to you?

I don’t know if I have any habits that are specific to me. um... I don’t really like the part of the utensil which you stick in your mouth touching anything besides me, my plate, or a napkin, so I tend to hold utensils in my mouth (knives excluded, duh because they don’t go in your mouth). It’s kind of a habit now, I guess. Does that count?

11. How far would you swim out into the ocean?

Negative feet. I’m not going in the ocean. There are things in there that I want nothing to do with such as seaweed, angry crabs that I could accidentally step on, sharp rocks or shells, sharks, jellyfish, etc.

Next, @excitable-nugget‘s questions! Thanks a bunch, Gnugs!

1. If you could have one sense enhanced, what would it be?

Definitely not taste. Tastes are wonderful (or some of them at least), but I’m already picky as it is, so I don’t really want more tastes to discriminate against. Touch probably wouldn’t be such a good idea either since I get startled easily and tongue (one picky dude, I tell you) is actually pretty sensitive to food textures too. Smell wouldn’t be bad except sometimes when I’m sick, everything smells like vomit, so I don’t really want to risk that being enhanced. Overall, I’m gonna go with sight (yes, I did skip hearing. I didn’t have much to say about it). Better vision in the dark could be pretty lit. Might also help ease some of my night paranoia. 2. Can you link your hands behind your back with one over the shoulder and one under? (like this)

One way. I can do it with my right hand reaching over. Kind of freaked me out though. I wasn’t ready for my hands to meet like that even if it was the goal. 3. Favourite colour to wear, or your favourite colour in general?

Favorite color to wear? Black. I just own a lot of black. Favorite color in general? Orange. 4. What was your internet pseudonym when you were 12-14?

It was Leio13. I’ve been Leio13 for as long as I’ve been on the internet. 5. What’s your favourite meat-based dish? If you don’t eat meat, what’s your favourite dish in general?

My favorite meat dish is steak. It’s just sooooo good. 6. Would you rather be known as wise or strong?

Probably wise. I used to think I was super smart as a kid, but now I feel pretty average and/or stupid/incompetent, so it would be nice for that feeling to come back. 7. What’s your favourite physical feature about yourself?

Probably my hair even if it knots excessively when no one wants it to. 8. Would you rather explore the ocean depths or space?

The ocean is such a vibrant, beautiful place! I love underwater images and would love to see it in person, but it would have to be in a submarine or something because I’m not going out there with only a wet suit protecting my flesh. 9. What’s your favourite snack food?

This is hard... I eat so many snacks. Hmm... I’m feeling ritz bitz. 10. If you could make one thing from fiction (e.g. a character, a place, a food, a machine) real, what would it be?

I don’t really have any deep answers here, but I think Odasaku (as he is in Bungou Stray Dogs) and his orphans being real would be really sweet. They’d be such a cute family. #familygoals 11. Is Australia real or just a conspiracy?

Australia? don’t know her.

Finally, I was tagged by the wonderful @chom-raaa! Thanks, Chomra!

1. Heroes gone bad or villains becoming good?

How could I choose???? They’re both so fantastic!! Wonderful character development opportunities abound with both!! ...that being said, while I appreciate the psychology of both of them, I tend to side with the good guys, so if all you wonderful villains could join the side I support, I guess that would be better.

2. Did you ever get in trouble in school? When was the last time and what was it about?

er... I don’t think so. No wait. One time, we were playing a game in class but my friend and I got out, so we were chatting on the sidelines even though we were supposed to be paying attention to those still playing (this was an ice breaker game). Anyway, the teacher said something about being quiet, and my dense self took it as “you can continue talking but quietly,” so I did. The teacher had to yell again for it to click with me. This was in like 5th grade, but I’m still disappointed in that me. I wasn’t that dense normally in fifth grade.

3. Hot drinks or cold drinks?

cold drinks. 

4. Any siblings? Older/younger? Would you have it any other way?

I’ve got two amazing siblings, both older than me! I don’t really think I would want it any other way. I’m content with what I have now.

5. You most prized possession?

My technology and anime merch maybe? 

6. What’s a fandom trope that makes you uncomfortable?

hoo boy. Where to begin??? I hate slave AUs (can’t really understand why you would like them). As you probably already know, I dislike smut, so the appeal of A/B/O universes is beyond me entirely. er... sexualizing characters? calling out the soukoku fandom: Chuuya always seems to be the more sexy one who other dudes and Dazai are always eyeing and lusting after. Like, can we appreciate the guy for more than his looks and impeccable fashion taste?? uh... also, Fyodor being depicted as some dude who is dead set on destroying soukoku (usually by the means of torturing Chuuya in some way to hurt Dazai which by the way is just... no.). I’m pretty sure Fyodor has better things to do??? Like kill all ability users?? Er, sorry. Not sure if you wanted specific fandom tropes or not, but uh, yeah.

7. What do find attractive in a fictional character?

BLAZERS!!

If you meant personality wise, I like passionate, kind characters, and also the mysterious, probably misunderstood type.

8. If could bring a character back to life but sacrifice another character in return (major-ish characters for those fandoms with a big cast), who would you choose?

Bringing back Odasaku, sending Fyodor to hell where he belongs. Of course, I wouldn’t actually because as much as I cry over the events of the dark era, I know that these things needed to happen for Dazai to end up where he is currently.

You know what? Better idea: still bringing back Odasaku but killing Lovecraft. The dude should’ve died after Chuuya destroyed him. I’m still bitter about his survival even if his parting scene was hilarious.

9. Long fics or short fics? In terms of both reading and writing?

I’m typically hesitant to read long fics because I have difficulty keeping up or finishing things. I bet there are a plethora of interesting long fics out there that I haven’t clicked on because I fear my motivation might die before I finish them. Likewise, it takes me centuries to write long fics, but I do really admire the art! Creating a complex story that spans over chapters is an epic feat that should not be underestimated. That being said, I do love short fics too! Short fics that still fill me with intense emotions are an equally epic thing. Like, how do you get so many feels in so little words???

10. Are you content with who you are?

haha nah. There are a lot of things about me that I wish were better. For one, i wish my motivation actually existed. I’m so unmotivated to do anything, even the littlest of things. Even things that I know would be fun. I just can’t convince myself to do them... Orz. Er... There are more things, but I don’t want to make this super sad. You came here for memes, not angst! Maybe not, but anyway...

11. What is holding you back from getting what you want?

I don’t know what this thing I want is referring to, but I’d bet 5000 imaginary monies that its my motivation or anxiety that’s interfering. 

Thanks for the wonderful questions, y’all! <3

Now, it’s my turn!

er... actually, I’m not feeling any creative question vibes, so if I tag you, please refer to the questions of the last time did this meme (psst! over here!). Without further ado, I’m tagging @haruki-00, @dusttodawnn, @melrw22, @bandaged-chessmaster, @ai-san-arts, @4nimenut, @96percentdone, @monokumamastermind, @sadtiredbaby, @wymoup-nox, and @yesterdayohhowimissit! As usual, only do it if you want, and do it if you want but you weren’t tagged.

[gldngrl7]

Karamel Fic: Edging Toward Synchronicity (6/8)

Author: gldngr7

Rating: Explicit

Began: March 11, 2017

Chapters: 8

 Feedback:  Encouragement and constructive criticisms are always welcome.  Flames are destroyed with my freeze breath.

 Author’s Notes:

 We’re back to it.  This is a smut chapter, folks.  The first half is plot though.

 Tagging: @mon-kai-el, @actualpuppychriswood, @pwettypwita, @contygold86, @karamelizedlove, @kelbottumbles, @starcrossed-comets, @emarasmoak, @fangirlintheforest, @ships-sailing-in-the-night, @lostin-the-desert, @somos-poeiraestelar

      Oh lights go down

          In the moment we're lost and found

               I just wanna be by your side

    If these wings could fly

            For the rest of our lives

    --Birdy – “Wings”

 Chapter 6/8

 “But that wasn’t your wife,” Ral’s voice reassures him gently.  “Nor was it your child.  You know that, right?”  His brother places a hand on his shoulder.

“It was so real,” Mon-El says, shaky hands wiping away the salty streams of tears on his cheeks.

“And so it was,” Ral explains.  “But it wasn’t your story.”

“But it was Kara and she was….”

“In dreams our mind mixes up all sorts of things.  It’s like a subconscious….” Ral searches for the right word.  “What’s that children’s party game with a stick and the candy?”

“Piñata,” Mon-El supplies.

“It’s like a subconscious piñata.  Hit your brain with the sleep stick and there’s no telling what goodies might spill out…all in a glorious mixed up mess.  Your mind is trying to process a lot of information right now – some of it new and some of it very old, but freshly remembered.  Memories with a new coat of paint,” Ral chuckles darkly, “but no less ugly.”

“Trel Gand,” Mon-El realizes.  “And Gata Fal-Ur.”

“Yes,” Ral confirms.  “At least…most of it was.”

“But…were those my feelings or his feelings?” Mon-El wonders.

“Probably a little bit of both.  Or a lot of both.”

“It was so real,” he breathes, slowly gaining control of his emotions.  “The terror, the rage, the love…all of it.  So real.”  A shiver he can’t control races down his spine.

“Remember when we were kids and we found the chest with their personal effects—the ones that survived the Purge?”

It had been a single chest, hidden away by someone who had hoped the disaster of Trel Gand and Gata Fal-Ur might one day be forgotten, but couldn’t bring themselves to destroy what parts of them were left.  Hidden away by someone who must have loved them, despite the stories that circulated.  “I remember.”

“We found the letters inside.  And the journals.  They were real paper, remember?  So their communications couldn’t be intercepted on the Daxcess.  That’s probably why they survived,” he suggests. “No one was looking for them.”

“We were just boys, looking for treasure,” Mon-El recalls.  “I hoped the pages told stories of battles.  Glorious stories of Daxamite victories over the evil Kryptonians.”  He felt mortified on behalf of the bloodthirsty boy he’d once been, before being confronted with the truth of death and loss and the cost one’s soul must pay to learn of such things.  “I wanted to impress Father.”

“That was before we learned the truth.”

“And when you lived for making trouble.”

“Those letters and journals were how I learned of love,” Ral reminds him. “I dreamed of finding a mate like Gata. Someone who would see the obstacles to loving me and laugh in the face of them.”

“You were obsessed,” Mon-El pointed out.  “You tortured me by making me read the damn things out loud until I begged you to let me stop.  I just wanted stories of glory and…heroic deeds.”

“Well,” Ral sighs.  “You were just a child at the time.  You didn’t have your priorities straight.  And you needed the practice reading.”

“I was a year younger than you,” Mon-El counters, affronted on behalf of his childhood self.

“A year can make quite the difference, huh?” Ral shrugs, dismissively. Only the sparkle in his green eyes betrays that he’s teasing.

“You were always softer than I was, Ral.  Father would say it was your mother’s influence.”

“Mother would say you grew up with a skewed sense of self.  You had to keep things inside.”

“She wasn’t wrong,” Mon-El replies, sadly.

“But Earth has done wonders for you, brother.  Cracked open that shell you built to protect yourself from his expectations.  Who’s the soft one now?”

Mon-El snorts, throwing Ral’s words back at him.  “A year can make quite the difference.”  It may have been closer to half a century since they’d actually stood in a room together, comparing and contrasting each other’s faults with good-natured jibing, but it felt like only a short while ago—thanks to pod stasis.

“Maybe in some ways Kara is right.  Perhaps Rao brought the two of you together to…make up for what happened to Trel and Gata.  A second chance at reunification.”

“You don’t believe in Rao,” Mon-El reminds him.

“I’m you, brother.  I believe in what you believe.  Make of that what you will.”

Mon-El considers the implications of Ral’s declaration for a moment before forcing himself to move on.  “What’s left to reunify?” he questions.  “Both of our planets are gone.  Krypton is in pieces and Daxam a wasteland of solar storms and nuclear winter if the reports are accurate.  There’s just…us.”

“Exactly,” Ral rejoices.  “You’ll have things so much easier than Gata and Trel.  None of that palace intrigue and back-stabbing traitors nonsense.  Seems like Rao has conveniently removed most of the obstacles.”

“Most of them?”

“Well, there have to be some obstacles,” Ral lectures, as though this should be obvious, “otherwise it wouldn’t be any fun.”

“I’m having difficulty in seeing where the fun is in the extra vivid memories of Daxam’s destruction, Ral—of your…death.  Oh!  And the added bonus of dreaming about the tragic story of two people I’d never even met.”

“Fun might not have been the right word,” Ral backtracks.  “But obstacles, and overcoming them together, makes you stronger.  So that you can face anything together.”

“I don’t want her burdened by this,” Mon-El laments.

“We take on the burdens of those we love,” Ral counsels.  “It’s our right…our privilege.  Their hurts become our hurts, their scars our scars. Wouldn’t you do the same for her?”

“But she’s never said that,” Mon-El shakes his head.  “She’s never mentioned love.”

“And neither have you.  Does that make it less true?  Would you hesitate, even for a moment, to take her pain as your own?”

“I wasn’t how we were taught,” Mon-El adds.  “How we were raised.  To love one’s mate is unnecessary.”

“But we learned it, brother.  We learned it in their journals.  We saw the other side, and how loving someone can be its own kind of glory.  We saw the lengths Trel went to in order to ensure that their love endured.  You read his last letter, don’t you remember?”

“Loving someone can also be the key to your own destruction.”

“A risk worth taking,” Ral insists.  “Would Trel not say the same, I wonder?   If he were here right now.”

“Not if loving her…destroys her.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Ral groans, melodramatically.  “She’s made of steel.  She can handle it.  Don’t let your fear dictate what happens next.  No one’s ever made a decision steeped in fear that they didn’t regret later.”

“If she does…you know….”

“Love you?”

“Yeah, that.  If she does…then finding out the truth…about what Father did.  That could destroy her,” Mon-El says, twisting the hand towel between his fists until it threatens to split in half.  “That could destroy us both.”

“Or maybe you’re not giving her enough credit.  Look, brother, splash some water on your face and get back to bed. You promised her you’d wake up with her in the morning and sunrise isn’t far off.”

Despite the dream, he’d managed to get about four hours of sleep, more than he’d cobbled together in the last few weeks.  Mon-El heeds Ral’s advice and splashes a few handfuls of cold water on his face, until the red rims around his eyes begins to clear.

“And can I just say…before we go back to radio silence…congratulations, brother!  She truly is a gift…from Rao, if you like.  I never would have taken her for a nestling in bed.”  

“Her surrender…her zeal…was a pleasant surprise,” Mon-El boasts.  

“The caretaker role suits you, Brother…especially when your heart is engaged.”

“I just want to give her what she needs.”

“Tell yourself that all you like, but it’s more than that, and you know it. As a child, your instincts were always to take care of people.  How many cliffs did you pull me back from, huh?  Then you spent nearly two decades trying to deny that part of yourself – trying to find peace in excess and debauchery--”

“Because I knew I’d never find it any other way,” Mon-El interjected.

“Now you have the chance to be true to yourself, both in your relationship and in the outside world. Makes it hard to not believe in a greater plan at work, my friend.  Your needs are perfectly matched to one another.  She needs a caretaker, and you a nestling.  You both find it arousing…fulfilling.  And what’s more…I’m not sure you even realized how much you needed to be a caretaker…excuse me…a ‘Daddy’, until you heard that word come from her lips.  A hole inside of you closed up when she called you that.”

Mon-El studies himself in the mirror, his body already reacting to Ral’s words.  He wants to go back out there and wake her.  Make her his again, in ways they hadn’t even tried yet.  His cock, a moment before just a limp, dangling appendage, is already halfway to hard.

“But…Princess?” Ral asks, his expression one of dubious certainty. “Wasn’t that a little on-the-nose?”

“It’s what they say here when they practice Dexaris,” Mon-El rationalizes.  “Or one of the pet names, at any rate.  It’s no more literal than her use of a term commonly associated with one’s father.”

“Okay,” Ral intones, but in that frustrating way he has in which he implies he doesn’t believe the tale that Mon-El is spinning.  “Whatever you say.”

Mon-El uses the facilities and washes his hands before flicking the light switch and slipping quietly out of the bathroom.  Though he doesn’t know why he bothers – despite her super hearing, she sleeps like the dead.  Somehow, by some miracle, a genuine scream for help will wake her, but he could sing the Daxam Anthem at the top of his lungs to no effect.

She appears not to have moved an inch since he left her in the bed nearly half an hour ago.  A glance out the window reveals that light pink horizon that promises sunrise in the making.  He slips under the comforter with her, his arms itching to tug her into his embrace, but afraid doing so may disturb her so few hours left for her to slumber. Instead, he rolls away from her, settling on his side with his back towards hers while he orders his rapidly heating blood to cool down.

Mon-El closes his eyes and attempts to find a calming tempo for his breath, in hopes that he can get a few more, hopefully dreamless, hours of sleep.

 *****

 In her sleep, she reaches for him, and when she comes up empty, her eyes shoot open.  Had it been a dream? Falling asleep in his arms?  Slightly disoriented from sleeping so heavily, Kara looks around taking stock. Her bed is a shambles, her headboard cracked and off kilter.  She is most definitely stark naked, her body still feeling as though it has been well used.

‘Definitely not a dream,’ she breathes a sigh of relief.

A sliver of light spills from the bathroom and Kara opens her mouth to call for him when she hears the mumbling sound of him speaking.  Without thinking, she turns up her hearing to listen.

“What’s left to reunify?” She hears him ask.  Who is he talking to?  Reunify what?  “Both of our planets are gone.  Krypton is in pieces and Daxam a wasteland of solar storms and nuclear winter if the reports are accurate.  There’s just…us.”  He’s talking about her…about them.

“Most of them?”  After a brief pause he continues.  “I’m having difficulty in seeing where the fun is in the extra vivid memories of Daxam’s destruction, Ral—of your…death. Oh!  And the added bonus of dreaming about the tragic story of two people I’d never even met.”

Ral!  Kara gasps. Wasn’t that the name of his step-brother?  The one who died on Daxam?  He’s having a conversation with his dead brother, she realizes, covering her mouth to hide the sound of her shock.  Perhaps he’s just dreaming.  Sleepwalking? Kara’s mind tries to convince her of this possibility but the sinking feeling in her gut tells her the truth she wishes she could un-hear.  Mon-El sounds completely lucid and comprehensible.  He’s…hallucinating.  

She continues to listen, hearing what she now knows is only one side of a two-part conversation.  Each of his answers revealing the deeper insecurities that lie hidden in his psyche.

“I don’t want her burdened by this,” Mon-El’s voice laments.  He’s worried about the flashbacks and, as she now realizes, his hallucinations.  How long has this been going on?

“But she’s never said that.  She’s never mentioned love.  I wasn’t how we were taught,” Mon-El adds.  “How we were raised.  To love one’s mate is unnecessary.”  Her heart cracks open at his words.  Of course he’s never mentioned love either, but she always thought…hoped.  There had been some uncertainty in the beginning, but she’d thought they were working through all of that.  That choosing each other meant something more.  He’s always seemed so open to it, which is why his words sound incompatible with his behavior.

“Loving someone can also be the key to your own destruction.”

“Not if loving her…destroys her.”

“If she does…you know….”

“Yeah, that.  If she does…then finding out the truth…about what Father did.  That could destroy her,” Mon-El says.  “That could destroy us both.”

She decides to listen no more and powers down her hearing, squeezing her eyes shut as if that’s going to help shut out the things she’s heard. There’s something he’s not telling her, something he’s afraid will destroy her…and by extension…him?  She isn’t entirely sure since she can only hear half of what’s going on in his head.  If only J’onn could read Daxamite minds, she might be able to get some insight.

What had his father done, and to whom?  And what could have possibly been so bad that it even now, so far removed from Daxam, it might threaten to destroy them both?  Her mind races with more questions than she can possibly answer.  She worries over the secret he clearly doesn’t want revealed, but her mind keeps coming back to the hallucinations.  Her mate is having full-blown hallucinations of a dead person and, first things first, that needs to be dealt with.

When she landed on Earth and went to live with the Danvers, she had grieved. The first step, denial, hadn’t been an option open to her.  No one was coming for her.   No ship would breach the sky to retrieve her, to tell her there had been a mistake and that Krypton had survived after all.  From space, in her swiftly escaping pod, she’d seen the bright flash of Krypton’s core overtaking the planet until it exploded, she had felt the shockwave strike her ship.

Transplanted to Midvale USA, Earth, Kara Zor-El spent many nights, in that shared bedroom crying into her pillow, screaming into her pillow, even unexpectedly bursting into tears at the slightest reminder of home and family. On her worst days, sweet Kara Zor-El acted out in ways that could only be defined as a desire to spread pain, and then swamped by guilt, she made promises to Rao that she would be the best possible girl she could be, if only He would bring it all back.  Bring them all back.  

But Mon-El had been allowed none of that.  

Was it because he hadn’t allowed himself to grieve, or because he hadn’t been given the freedom to?  Kara recalls in the early days of their acquaintance, after attempting to send a distress call back to Daxam, had shaken off ‘dreary’ thoughts in favor of more diverting activities.  At the time, she had dismissed this action as the frivolous behavior of a typically boorish Daxamite, rather than the act of man in an intense state of denial.

He’d been given neither the room nor the time to process the sheer enormity of his loss.  Is it any wonder that his mind would find a way to force it, even if it was only internally?

Why hadn’t she seen it for the mask it really was?  Perhaps if she had, his grief might never have progressed to this dangerous state.  A nightmare likely drove him from their bed to seek sanctuary in the bathroom, where he could converse openly with his hallucinatory step-brother while she presumably slept.  These are the types of signs for which Eliza warned her to be on the lookout.

Out of her depth in this arena, Kara recognizes that she will have to seek help in the morning, from J’onn and her mother, and even Alex. Perhaps together they can determine a plan of action.

Kara hears the toilet flush and the water in the sink turn back on, moments before he emerges from the bathroom, at last.  Lifting the comforter, he slips into the bed, and she waits for him to pull her back into the warm shelter of his arms, but he doesn’t. Instead, after a few moments hesitation he rolls over, turning his back to her.  When he clearly needs her most, he eschews even the simplest comfort she has to offer in a ludicrous, and frankly hurtful, effort to keep her at arm’s length from what he’s suffering.

Still and silent, Kara sends a prayer a Rao, seeking His guidance and some sign of where to go from here.  She could be angry, she knows, about the things he holds back from her, about the lack of trust and faith he has in her – after all the trust she’s bestowed upon him.  She could rage and rant about all of it, but a voice whispers inside that such actions would solve nothing and serve only to push him further away.  And she can’t afford that.

Right or wrong, for good or for ill—broken or whole—she loves him, and it’s a love stronger than she could have ever imagined in her girlhood fantasies. Even if that love may not be returned yet, she places her faith in Rao that someday it will be.  That his love is a fait accompli…meant to be…and so she will move forward into the future as his ordained mate.

As his stardust.

Tomorrow she will seek help, but tonight she can offer the kind of comfort of which she has endless amounts.  Even while ostensibly sleeping.  Eyes closed and trying to give her movements the appearance of shifting in her sleep, Kara thrashes about as though searching for his warmth.  She butts up against his broad back, pressing into him so that her naked skin seals against his.  Placing her forehead between his shoulder blades, Kara breathes into him, breathes him in, relaxing into his solid form as she tucks her legs against the backs of his and snakes one arm around his chest.  Slowly, their breathing synchronizes until they’re both back on the edge of sleep.

Everything will start getting better tomorrow, she tells herself. Help is just a phone call away. She needs to make him see that she’s here for him, no matter what.  Once he understands that, they can get him on the road to recovery.  Kara feels the fingers of one of his hands interlace with hers, and she takes it as a sign that he accepts her offered comfort.

His hand now in hers, Kara allows sleep to overtake her once more.

When next she opens her eyes, the morning sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her bedroom, high in the sky, but not too high.  A quick glance reveals that her alarm clock is twenty-three minutes from total meltdown. Her body is already needy because sometime during sleep, their positions had reversed and Mon-El now spoons behind her, one of his legs wedged between hers, his lower thigh pressed to her gathering heat.  One of his hands cups a breast like it’s the touchstone anchoring him to this reality, as his steady breath tickles the sensitive crook where her neck and shoulder meet.  His cock is like a red-hot poker sandwiched between her ass and his pelvis, so she’s acutely aware that at least part of him is awake.

Kara rolls her hips, simultaneously teasing his cock and riding his knee until she can feel the heat banking within her.  Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she attempts to bite back a greedy moan, and fails miserably.  Kara reaches for his thigh, urging it upwards to provide more pressure to her increasingly sensitive core.

She knows the exact moment Mon-El comes fully awake, because his grip on her breast tightens and his knee takes over some of the work of pushing her to the brink.  His mouth latches onto her shoulder, nipping and sucking at her skin, working his way up to settle at the shell of her ear as she rides his knee with masochistic languor.   “Does my little nestling need me this morning?”

“Yes,” Kara sighs, her hips continuing their drive, as she grows wetter and wetter.  She maintains her arousal, like stirring a pot to keep the concoction from boiling over, but she wants to wait for him before letting go.  Her need for him is a conundrum, because the more she has of him, the more she desires, like a boundless gluttony in the face of an unending banquet.  Each time they finish, sweaty and sated, she believes her desire quenched, only to have it return more quickly than she could have imagined and with twice the fervor. Is it like this for everyone?  Or is it simply because the yellow sun radiation constantly replenishes their energy stores?

Mon-El bites down on her earlobe hard, eliciting a gasp from her and driving her shoulder up protectively towards her ear.  “Yes…?” he growls, expectantly.

“Yes…Daddy,” she provides, the smile that lazily crosses face uninhibited and completely reflexive.

“Good girl,” he purrs.  She can practically hear his smile as he tucks his face into her neck and cants his hips into her ass, rubbing his cock into the crease between her cheeks.  With his thumb and forefinger, Mon-El pinches her nipple, drawing the bud out with a tug and a sharp twist.  The initial pain she feels, causing her to moan, settles into warm charge that travels straight to her core, providing another gush of lubrication.  Her body prepares the way for him each and every time, and with very little effort on his part.  “I need you now,” he rasps.

Mornings are an all-fire rush for him.  He can exhibit the same kind of control he usually does, but there’s something about surrendering to his body’s primal urges first thing in the morning that he finds particularly satisfying.  And judging from the warm, wet heat on his thigh, she requires no further cajoling.

“I need you, too, Daddy,” she mewls, her voice barely above a whisper. “All the time,” she confesses. “It never stops.”

“I know, Princess.  It’s the same for me.”  Abandoning her breast, his hand slides up and clasps her chin, turning her face to his waiting mouth.  Kara opens for him even before their lips touch and they taste of each other, dinking down each other’s flavors like it’s the rarest of wines.  “Every time,” he tells her when he’s capable of prying his mouth from hers.  “I only want you more afterwards.”

Twisting her torso a bit, Kara reaches behind her, in between their bodies and locates his hardened length of patient steel.  Her fingertips tease but don’t grasp and the sensation is so staggering that his throat swallows reflexively and he must force his hips to remain still so that they don’t demand more than she’s willing to give.

“I like the way your cock feels, Daddy.”

“Do you, Princess?”  His hand still cups her chin, encompassing her lower face, fingers on one cheek, while his thumb strokes her bottom lip.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she replies, licking her lips and catching a taste of the tip of his thumb.  “Like velvet.”  A pout forms on her lips and a crinkle grows between her eyebrows.  “I wish there could be nothing between us.”

“I know,” he commiserates.  “And you felt like heaven around my cock the one time there wasn’t. Gods, you are so perfect, Kara. Soon,” Mon-El promises.  “One way or another.”  He imagines taking her when she’s ripe with his child – as ripe as she was in his dream.

“One way or another,” she echoes.  “You’ll fill me up, won’t you?  Fill me with you?”  A mischievous twinkle lights her eyes before she sucks his entire thumb in to the warm cavern of her mouth.

Like giving his thumb a blowjob, she sucks and sucks, bobbing her head up and down, her tongue swirling around the tip, until he’s finding it difficult to think straight.  “Hand me a condom,” he orders quickly, before the raging beast inside that wants to fill her with his seed—wants to breed her—takes over.

Lest he change his mind, as if he would, she scrabbles for the box in the open drawer of the bedside table at speeds invisible to the human eye. “Stay right where you are,” he commands, taking the package from her and shifting to his back just long enough to roll the condom down his shaft and secure it in place.

Losing access to the pressure of his thigh between her legs, she burns for him even more now and leans into him when he rolls back into her. Skin to skin, she can feel him from head to toe, his back against her back, his massive, muscular thighs pressing to her toned, but far more delicate ones.  She heaves a sigh of relief when she feels the head of Mon-El’s cock line up to her covetous entrance, the burn for him becoming nearly more than she can handle.

“Will you—“ he begins.

“Yes, please!” she interrupts.

“If you won’t let me ask, then tell me so I know I have your permission.” His fingers at the base of his cock, he teases her with the tip, sliding back and forth through the slick seam, from the entrance to clit and back again, over and over as her hips writhe with anticipation.  “Say the words.”

“You know what I need, Daddy,” she pleads, her breath coming hard fast as she throws her head back.

“I do,” he concurs, “but I will never take you without your word. Our games can be tricky, Princess. I need to know you want it as much as I do, every step of the way.”

“I do,” she whimpers, nodding her head.  “I want it so bad.  I need you inside me.  Fuck me, Daddy.  Please? Please, fuck me?”

Mon-El loves to hear her beg, loves that high pitched tone only he gets to hear, but has no desire to torment her.  At least not this morning.  He enters in one slow stroke, as deep as he can go in this position. Spooning from behind, on their sides, this position isn’t about depth, it’s about proximity.  It’s about being close to her, their bodies aligned from head to toe, her pressing back to meet his thrusts as he whispers filthy things into her ears.

Her body remembers him, welcomes him into her like a he’s a soldier come home from war, jubilant and reverent at the same time.  Their position prevents the deepest penetration but the sensation of his hot breath on her ear and the way his hand snakes under her arm and grasps her shoulder for leverage helps to compensate admirably.

Mon-El pumps in and out of her slowly at first, just enjoying the searing heaven of her slick, clasping clutch.  The same muscles that grasp at his cock as he retreats provide an excruciating resistance upon his return that is nothing short of sublime.

Kara turns her head looking for his mouth and he is only too happy to oblige, feeding her his grunts of effort while rapaciously dining on the mewling whimpers of her unguarded pleasure.  He savors her inarticulate pleas as she devours the fruits of his labor and for both, it is a gluttonous banquet of the richest cuisine.

Words of encouragement or instruction quickly become unnecessary as they’ve learned to read between the lines of each other’s body language.  The way her body tenses, her legs and thighs quivering, fingers clamping down on the comforter like a vise grip tell him that all she needs is the final push over the edge.

His grunts vibrating into the skin of her neck and shoulder begin to resemble to long, purring growl of a predator on the hunt and his thrusts turn feral, so she knows he won’t last much longer.  Kara bends her outside leg, pivoting it upwards and lifting it closer into her body, opening herself up more for his hungry cock.  Sliding a shaking hand between her legs, she dips two fingers into the wet seam of her exposed folds and locates the swollen bundle of nerves that cries out for attention.

Mon-El slithers his bearing arm between her head and the pillow, wrapping it around until it crosses her neck and clasps onto her opposite shoulder. His free hand bats hers away, which was busily manipulating her clit to very little effect.  “I’ve got you, baby,” his voice grates like sandpaper against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.  “You just let go.”

And she does.  Kara’s body melts into him, allowing herself to be ridden by the rhythmic pounding of his cock, the sensations of fullness, of heat racing through her veins and sparking her nerve endings, and of something inescapable washing over her like a tidal wave.  Everything goes white and bright behind closed eyelids, her mouth opens wide for a scream that is silent but no less…there. Kara hears his voice praising her.

“That’s…my…girl,” he raves, fucking her through the climax, prolonging and amplifying it.  “So tight…gods…your clutch wants my cock so bad.  Do you want my come, too?”

“Yes,” she cries.

“I’m going to fill you until your womb can’t hold anymore.”  Finding something inside of himself he never before could have imagined was there, Mon-El’s hand slips from her snatch and settles on her belly.  “Do you know…what it…does to me?”  

In his heightened state of arousal it would not have taken much to send him reeling, but just the thought of it, of his child growing inside of her, does the trick.  A streak of searing electricity causes his heavy balls to constrict, like drawing taut the band of a slingshot before letting loose its ordnance.  “Fuck!” he curses when he finally lets go, his pelvis bucking into her backside with stinging force.  Reflexively, his arms tighten like a vise around her as he empties the rest of his load with three more thrusts.  Each plunge is more debilitating than the last, as if every release passes something integral from him over to her, leaving him utterly enervated by the time he finishes.

With the last shudders of his orgasm Mon-El’s arms go limp around her, and he has just enough lucidity remaining to kiss the back of her neck and along her shoulders.  Reverently, in the bubble of communion their lovemaking has created, he showers her with the love he feels but cannot yet say.

As always, separating from her is a near-traumatic experience for the both of them, but as he must for now, he carefully withdraws and rolls onto his back, his body spent.  His mind, however, experiences a brief, post-orgasmic moment of clarification that will fade all too soon as his heart rate returns to normal and his body enters its refractory period.

Perhaps he can blame it on the nightmare, the emotional conversation with Ral afterwards, or waking up with her in his arms and the sun peeking through the windows, but something about the morning sex with Kara has taken its toll on him.  Physically and emotionally.  Learning that she could be pregnant, a phenomenon unseen on Daxam since Gata Fal-Ur and another seven generations before her, and then seeing it so vividly in his dreams, had stirred up emotions he had never imagined himself capable.

He remembers, like the itch of a phantom limb, the way their son moving under her skin felt against his palm and he wants to weep with the incomprehensible loss of it.  But despite the desolation, there had been emotional profit in the dream as well.

Growing up, he’d always known that siring a child, continuing his bloodline, was a duty he would one day have to fulfill—would be forced to fulfill, one way or another.  To say he had been preveniently resentful of any future offspring would be an understatement of galactic proportions. The very thought of having a child, of giving his father exactly what he wanted, was abhorrent to him.  Mon-El had actively taken measures to prevent siring offspring, both by receiving secret injections of the male hormone suppressors that would prevent his seed from taking root, and by purposefully choosing women with who to cavort that his father would view as genetic undesirables.

But those feelings of resentment are gone now, evaporated like an ice cube in the face of Kara’s heat vision.  Falling in love and letting go of the reasons that, brick-by-brick, built that resentment, means that he can see the possibilities that lay ahead and look forward to them.  Even if he and Kara aren’t quite ready to dive in head-first.

Kara rolls to her back next to him, not quite willing to muster the energy to shift all the way to her side yet.  She splays an arm across him, the back of her sifting through the patch of hair on his abdomen, so that she can maintain an intimate contact with him.  So addicted to him, to his attentions, it’s emotionally difficult for when he has to pull away.  “What are you thinking?” she asks.  

A flash of concern strikes her and she wonders if he’s seeing or hearing from his hallucinatory step-brother right now. Kara stuffs down the bubble of jealousy that rises within her.  She doesn’t want to share him when they’re like this, but at the same time…it doesn’t make sense to be jealous of something that isn’t real.  It’s a waste of emotion, her brain tells her.  Too bad her heart doesn’t seem to listen.

Mon-El removes his condom and ties it off as best as he can, curling it into his fist, because he’s not quite ready to crawl away from her.  Reaching up, he tucks his other hand under the back of his head.  “I never wanted children,” he says.  “The idea was…well…repugnant isn’t too harsh of a word.”

Kara’s breath comes to a full stop, and her stomach clenches involuntarily with dread.

“But the reasons for that are all gone now.”

“They are?” she asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.  Though he doesn’t explain, Kara thinks she understands what he’s saying.  That his promises the night before of being in this together were about more than mere lip service.  And something happened between then and now to make that more concrete for him.

“Huh,” he says, a notion popping into his head fully formed, liked being handed an infant from the birthing matrix, without having watched it grow or develop.

“What?”

“Losing Daxam didn’t take everything from me,” he declares, feeling a piece of his shattered soul reform and shape into something new.  “Losing Daxam gave me some things, too.”

“Like…what?” she urged softly.  She didn’t want to press too hard, or force him to say more than he was ready to admit.

“The freedom to find out who I am without being told.”

“Krypton was like that, too,” she commiserates. “Birthing matrices were more efficient and resulted in fewer anomalies and mutations.  So they thought they could shape us into what they wanted, what they thought society needed, before we took our first breath.”

“And what did Krypton make of you?”

“My father was a scientist—a seeker—and my mother fought for justice.”

“So reporter and superhero….”

“I guess I never tried to fight my nature,” she comments.

“Because it’s a noble one.”

“What did they want to make of you?” Kara wonders.

He sighs, wondering if the time to tell her the truth is now, but knowing that he doesn’t have the courage, at least not completely. Not while he’s this naked…this vulnerable.  “A breeder,” he replies.

“I don’t…understand.”  Finally, she finds the energy and the wherewithal to shift her body towards him.  For the most part because she sends a wave of ennui pouring off of him in waves.  “Why would they want to breed a palace guard?”

“I have good genes.”

Kara grins and places a flirty, suggestive kiss on his pectoral.  “I can’t argue with that.”

Her joke draws a smile from him, helping him to shake off his lingering melancholy.  “Anyway…no one’s telling me what I have to want anymore.  I’m making my own decisions.  Or trying to…anyway.  It’s sad I had to lose my whole planet to gain that.  And I know that I want you and everything that comes with you.  I want a life and a partnership and a secret identity and a suit,” he chuckles.

“And…the other?”

“Whenever it happens…however it happens.  It’s not just something…I’m here for.  It’s something I want to be a part of.”  His hand slips out from beneath the back of his head and seeks hers, their fingers interlacing.  “Something that would…honor me.”

It’s another reason to feel that sense of relief, because the pink elephant hasn’t stopped weighing down her since that night in DEO gym and not just because of the bad timing of it all career-wise (for both of them), or because it’s so early in their relationship, but because of something far more worrisome and potentially sinister.

“What if…?” she begins, second-guessing whether she should share this burden with him – plant this seed on his already haunted mind.

“What if…what, Kara?”

“What if they won’t let us?” she asks.

“What if who won’t let us?”

“There’s a Senator in Congress, the one who submitted the bill for Alien Registration,” she explains.  “Alex heard rumors that she’s working on something new. Something that will make it legal to take away our reproductive rights.”

“Can they do that?” he queries.  It seems excessively cruel that he could be taken from a planet that tried to force its reproductive agenda upon him, only to end up on a planet that might seem determined to vote away his right to parenthood.  He and Kara both come from dead planets, they should have the right, if not the duty, to salvage of that what they can.

“They can try,” Kara replies.  “But, honestly…the government isn’t what worries me the most.”

It doesn’t take Mon-El long to connect the same dots that Kara already has.  “Cadmus,” he breathes, a red-hot fury rising up within him, utterly destroying the post-coital cloud upon which he floated only a moment ago.

“After the lengths they went to capture me just to get some of my blood.  It frightens me to think what lengths they would go to just to get their hands on our child.  What they might try to learn from her…or him.  How they could….” She can’t bear to finish the thought, let alone the sentence.

“That is never going to happen,” Mon-El vows, rolling towards her and taking her face in his hands, his Teflon-eyes boring into hers, sharp like knives.  “I swear to you…if anyone ever tries to harm our child, I will burn down the world to end them.  It may not be what Daxam taught,” he adds, “but it’s what my heart knows is right.”

Ending anyone, even the worst of villains, has always been a last resort for her.  Bringing death and dispensing justice are not the same things, because sometimes death is too pat an ending for those who toil in the service of harming others in the name of power.  People like Lillian Luthor.

But this is different.  This isn’t about being a superhero or playing by any set of rules designed to keep the general public safe and to maintain their trust.  This is about adhering to a set of rules designed to keep one person safe and an authority higher than she can possibly overrule instituted those rules.  These new rules are primal and unassailable and she knows that she is only getting a glimpse of the true allegiance they will compel.  

“We’ll figure something out,” she says, quirking one side of her mouth in a smile meant to be reassuring.  “If I’m pregnant we’ll find a way to…hide it from the public.”

“Hide it?”

“Well, yeah,” she replies with a shrug.  “Private Citizens Kara Danvers and Mike Matthews can have a child, but Supergirl and Valor should probably keep things professional. Lillian Luthor is savvy; she would make the connection easily, especially based on what she already knows. If she hasn’t already.”

“You don’t think your adoptive father would have…?”

“No,” she shakes her head.  “Never.  Not after everything he’s done to keep me safe.”

“We’ll find a way,” he promises.  “If I have to change my name again, change my disguise, and change my job…I swear to you, I won’t let anyone harm our Kryptamite.”

Kara’s forehead creases with a mixture of humor, confusion, and intrigue. “Kryptamite?” she echoes, a smile slowly spreading across her face.  “You didn’t want to go with Daxatonian?”

Mon-El chuckles, remembering the blissful moments of the dream as if they had been real moments from a long-lost past between them.  “No,” he tells her.  “Kryptamite sounds better.”

Kara nods and smiles.  “I think so, too.”

  TBC

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