#boxers just duking it out and then one letting the other just beat them

[djarinsbeskar]

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

Taglist | Form

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[supernovafeather]

Just To Be Sure (18+)

Duke Leto Atreides x F!Doctor!Reader

Warnings : smut, prostate exam (anal fingering, male receiving), glove kink, slight dom/sub dynamic, mention of prostate cancer, mention of needle.

Bodies can be considered as sacred, dead, or alive. Mythologies from all over the galaxy emphasize its importance between the flesh dwelling an entity to supreme gods made of several animals. Mortals worship the ones looking healthy or attractive and despise the ones looking unhealthy and unattractive. Tombs, rituals, the way of mourning the ones who passed away vary with no end, evolve, but still have the aim of showing respect to them. Some people choose to bury. Some to turn them into ashes. Some are punctual cannibals to devour this sacred flesh. Still, they have this ultimate goal : honouring the dead ones.

As a doctor on Arrakis, you have seen many strange things about these visions of what a body is, how intricate it is. Some feel good with it. Some are shy. Some take care of it compulsively. Some disregard it. Some use it as a weapon. Some use it to seduce. And getting underneath this hard shell, this limit between the outside and the inside - the Others and You - can be hard for some. Even for their own good.

"Please let me know if you don't feel comfortable." You say as you put a medical glove on behind the back covered by the blue oversized gown turned to you, the sound of it making the Duke's muscles tense up. "It won't be long and I will get the result shortly after, my Duke."

"Don't worry doctor." He answers as you watch his pants falling to his ankles, the large medical gown covering him down to his knees. "Tell me what to do."

"Please rest your hands on the table." You say as your mind focuses on your responsibilities rather than on his boxer now joining the ground. "I am going to lift the gown and start the examination."

You do as you said, holding the hem of the fabrics above his curves with your free hand while rubbing your gloved one with some lube.

"Please breath in, relax. And don't feel embarrassed if you get an erection, it is a normal reaction."

He hums as you kneel down, and you place your forefinger on his anus, caressing this area to makes it easier. It's not painful, just uncomfortable for most of your patients. You suspect some of them to like it. You don't know if Leto Atreides is one of them. He comes regularly - once every three months or so - to get tested but... he does go through all the other ways to detect any potential cancer or other illness : blood tests, examination under anesthesia, digital rectum exam like today... there is no known case of this illness in his family but he must be afraid of it. After all he is a tough ruler. He neglects his sleep schedule as much as he wants to keep control over everything. No wonder why he demands you to do it this often.

Still kneeled behind him, you smile with satisfaction as you feel his anus starting to relax under your touch. Just enough to start pressing without the worry of hurting him. You are really delicate with your patients in general, but even more with him.

"Good, my Duke, keep going." You encourage him as you frown, focusing on the sensation as you deepen your touch now. "It will be over soon."

You look away with your eyes closed as your finger reaches the point interesting you, a shaky exhale leaving his mouth. It is not especially comfortable, yes but at least it won't last for long. Slowly, you make little circles, checking the volume and the possible presence of anything suspect there. His flesh reacts to your intrusion, and he clears his throat as you keep going.

Nothing wrong. So less than twenty seconds later you start to remove your finger as you already stood up, only to be stopped by a firm hand grabbing your forearm. And grabbing it hard enough for your heat to skip a beat out of unexpected surprise.

"Make sure everything is right." He groans still looking in front of him.

"My Duke... there is no mass. Your blood tests are normal as well." You articulate in a low voice as you have some experience with dealing with annoyed patients. "There is no reason to keep going."

"Are you a doctor or a merchant ?" He snarls. "Stop arguing and just do your job."

You grimace. He may be the Duke but you hate when they start disrespecting you. You studied for years - even decades if you count the fact that you keep learning about new illnesses and technologies in the medical field - and in some way they know everything better than you do.

"As you wish, my Duke." You answer in an emotionless voice as you out your finger back to where it was, his buttocks tightening around your hand. "Who am I to put your life in danger ?"

Actually, now you are certain he likes this part of the exam. Normally you don't do it much, for several reasons. The first one is that patients often refuse it and prefer blood tests, or the needle test under anesthesia. The second one is that with this physical examination you can only feel the masses. A cancer can still be there, spreading without getting noticed. But yes, you do think he likes it. So you circle slowly with your finger, a raised eyebrow as you send a deadly glare at his nape covered by some of his curled hair. He wants to have a bit more ? Great. He will have to beg. After all you could stop it right now.

"Just make sure there is n-nothing wrong." He stutters as you give a slight thrust, his walls tightening their hold around your finger. "Absolutely nothing."

A Duke in denial. Maybe he is not so different from most of men. He wants it ? He'll get it.

"Sure, my Duke." You add in a neutral voice as you notice the goosebumps on his tanned skin as you give two gentle frictions. "Breath deeply, this could get uncomfortable after some time."

To add some spice, your other hand goes underneath the gown, rubbing his back up and down as you feel his muscles tensing up at this contact.

"Breath deeply." You repeat as your triggered professional ego makes you act more mathematically than originally planned. "Relax my Duke."

"I am rel..." but he chokes on his words as a second finger starts to rub against the entrance. "Shit."

"Let me be in charge, I know what I am doing."

This time he understands what you know of his reactions. It is obvious to the way he stops talking at your sentence, yielding to your touch as he leans on the table a bit more, palms rubbing the surface as he starts taking in the second finger finding its way inside him.

"Do I need to continue ? Just to be sure ?" You taunt him with a smile he can't see but can certainly hear.

"Yes. To be sure." He mumbles before sighing as your ministrations resume. "Perfect."

Your motions quicken as his breath gets louder. Now your other hand is holding his hip firmly, his fingers holding your wrist as he melts under your care. Then a strangled moan leaves his lips as you stop thrusting, your glove still deep inside him as the pulp of your finger keeps circling.

"Guilty pleasure, my Duke ?" You taunt him before retreating your hand from his warmth as he straightens his stance.

If you receive a cold glare from him, you don't care. He knows who leads here today. And you make it even clearer as you give him a towel to clean himsel and the inside of this poor medical gown.

- - - -

Thanks for reading, please comment and reblog if you liked it ! 😊

@abelslittlebunny @ophelialoveshandsomemen @salome-c @anetteaneta @dilfoscarisaac @letoatreiides @huxdameron

[simpleserendipity]

After Practice | Calum Hood | Mature

Pairing: Calum Hood x Reader (friends with benefits)

Warnings: swearing, blowjobs, masturbation, praise kink, degradation

Word count: 1695 words

The door slams shut and echo through the house. The only sounds that can be heard in the house are his footsteps stomping through the house, his grumbling, and Duke’s quiet barks. Calum trudges through the house with his soccer duffle slung over his shoulder, heading to Duke’s crate to let him out. There weren't many drawbacks of being a professional soccer player, he has a nice big house, a great dog, his dream job, and the money to buy anything he ever wanted. However one of the biggest drawbacks is he is perpetually alone. It wasn’t by choice because of course he had girlfriends or others he was interested in but things were always complicated with his job, the schedule, and traveling. He got to the crate where Duke was, whining and wagging his tail.

“Hey, buddy,” Calum coos at the dog as he kneels in front of the crate, “Missed you.” He laughs as he lets the dog out of the crate. Duke runs straight for the dog door making Calum break his scowl for a quick laugh. Calum shakes his head as he turns on his heels heading up the stairs then down the hall. He gets to the master bedroom and opens the door quickly. As soon as he steps into the room, Calum drops the duffle in the corner, a corner he long designated his soccer corner. He was pissed today was a tough practice, the coach had them running harder drills, faster plays and was on Calum about every little mistake today which was bothering him. Calum has always held himself to the highest of standards when it came to soccer, so he didn’t the coaches harping on him bother him outwardly, on the inside he was fuming though. He kicked his trainers off on top of the duffle and went to the bathroom. Calum sets his phone onto the counter beside the sink. Then he looked at himself in the mirror before sighing and running a hand through his hair. He looked beat up, soccer had been taking a lot out of him recently, and being the captain of a professional team was really starting to eat him away. He was barely sleeping or relaxing, all his time was spent training. Calum turned to the shower, one of the best things in this house. It was one of the things that confused him at first was why someone would need such a large space, the shower was bigger than his entire bathroom in his childhood home but now it was easily one of his favorite places in the entire house. The shower was lit by overhead lights and surrounded by black tile and glass walls. He turned on the shower, waiting for it to warm up.

Calum turned back to the mirror to undress. He peeled the team warm-ups off slowly, throwing them into the hamper beside the shower. Next, he took off the practice uniform, leaving himself in nothing but his boxers. Calum stretched upwards, the sports tape on his hip was beginning to peel at the motion. Calum stripped completely and chucked the remaining clothing into the bin, stretching again. His fingers traced down his hip bone, finding the peeled-up edge of the tape, rolling it off his skin, leaving a red mark in its wake before crumpling it, leaving it on the counter, deciding it’s a problem for later. The room was steaming up much more so he decided it was time to hop in. He slides the glass open slowly before stepping in. He was hoping the shower would relieve some tension. He got in and rolled his head around, the curls wetting down to his head as the water rolled down his tanned muscles. He runs his hands through his hair while washing it. Calum’s hands ran over the smooth expanse of his muscles, trying to rub the muscles to relieve any tension he could.

After a few moments some of the tension had disappeared but not all of it, “Fuck…” He groans in irritation as his hand runs down his stomach, coming down to grip his cock. He figured it may be worth a shot to try to relax a little more. He starts to run his hand up and down his cock gripping firmly. He quickened his pace, trying to get this over with. It wasn’t the fact that Calum was embarrassed about jacking off but he just didn’t like to take longer than necessary. His head falls back and the water drops down his face as he continues to go faster. His mind was wandering trying to think of what would help him finish the job. His mind wanders to you, his casual hookup, an arrangement that perfectly suited both of you. You were too busy and so was Calum for a real relationship so you two would hook up occasionally to keep your needs taken care of. Calum stops stroking his cock, letting his hardened member fall out of his hand. None of his ministrations were doing enough to get him to release, only making him more frustrated, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He huffs to himself, trying to muster up any thought that could help him. He tries to think back to the last time you had seen each other, it must have been close to two months since you’ve seen each other. Calum sighs, “How could it have been so long?” He wonders to himself. Calum turns and shuts the water off, walking out of the shower, shaking his head like a dog to dry his hair. He turns the towel rack, picking up a towel to wrap a towel around his waist. He steps over in front of the mirror, picking up his phone, starting to text quickly.

FROM CALUM: How fast can you get over here?

TO CALUM: Hello to you too…

FROM CALUM: I’m serious.

TO CALUM: I’m busy.

FROM CALUM: Well get not busy.

TO CALUM: Fine. 10 minutes.

Calum would normally feel bad about being so demanding with you but after the day he’s had he couldn’t care less. He also knew that you would never say no to him. Something about him was always so hard to say no to. He walks out of the bathroom, setting the phone onto the bedside table before collapsing on the bed, his hair drips a little on his bed. He sighs and lays on the bed waiting. He didn’t have to worry about you getting past the gate of the neighborhood or even into the house. The gate code and a spare key was something he gave you a long time ago so he had no worries about you being able to get into his house. Calum laid on there patiently waiting, wondering what the hell was taking you so long.

“Calum?” You called out.

“Back here.” He called sitting up, leaning back on his palms. He could hear your feet coming up the stairs. You opened the door to the most amazing sight you’ve seen in a while. Calum sat on the edge of the bed and you couldn’t help but stare, “Are you going just fucking stand there?” He snapped.

You came further into the room, still acting shy as you did so. He hated when you acted and so mousy like this because he knew you better than that, “You’re pissy.” You laughed a little.

“Yeah, today sucked.” He huffed, standing up facing you, he towered over you slightly.

“Tough practice?” You questioned, stepping closer so that you’re pressed chest to chest.

Calum nods before he sets a hand on your shoulder. “So down on your knees baby,” He pushes you down to your knees, “Now suck.”

You dropped to your knees without a moment of hesitation. You pulled the towel down to expose his muscular thighs and his prominent cock waiting to be touched. You stared for a moment, “Oh wow.” You eagerly wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and planted kisses around the length.

“You really are such a whore aren’t you?” He laughs, “You drove over here at my request and now you look at you, on your knees so desperate for my cock.”

You nod, “I am, I really am.” You opened your mouth and slowly took the length in, letting your hands leave his cock and rest on the sides of his thighs, as you increase your pace.

Calum’s hand was quick to come down and wrap your hair around his hand, “That’s right baby. You are my little whore, my little plaything. I could call you at any time and you would come, wouldn't you?” You hummed as you worked your mouth up and down the length. You moved down his length until your nose was at his pubic bone and you were gagging around him, “Fuck you always take my dick so well.” Calum’s hand in your hair pulls you back off of him, “So fucking well.” He praises you as you looked up at him before thrusting back into your mouth. Your hands come up and dig your fingers into his thighs as your throat tightens around him again. You quicken your pace as Calum’s moans got louder. You peered up at him through your eyelashes to see his head thrown back in pleasure. You swirl your tongue around the tip as his grip tightened on your hair, “So close baby,” He sighs, “Stop let me paint your face.” His tone was breathless as you pulled off, a string of saliva connecting the tip to your lips. Your left hand came off his thigh, reaching up to grip the base before jerking it aggressively, “Please Calum…” You were begging him to finish at this point, you were so desperate to get him off. You continued to whine and beg, so desperate for him to cum. Only a moment later, white spurts of cum painted your face.

Calum’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, “Good job baby,” He releases your hair, “But how about you bend over the edge of the bed so I can reward you baby.”

[sleepyfics]

❝  got no shame,  calum hood.

summary:   there’s a viral trend on tiktok where you get naked in front of your significant other and film their reaction. well, you thought it’d be fun to do it while your boyfriend calum is streaming with the band ---- promoting their new album.

authors note:   this is pretty much just PURE SMUT, so be warned!  i’ve been on tiktok way too much lately... also, stream calm and enjoy a cute lil’ quickie scenario!  

You’re bored out of your mind.

After taking a much needed shower, you find yourself in your favorite plush bathrobe, body sprawled across the king-sized bed you and your boyfriend share. Time inside these confined walls (to you) felt like it was dragging by, especially when Calum’s been busy doing promotions for the new album. Most of the time it was just you and Duke, and even he liked his naps throughout the day.

Blindly reaching out to grab your phone from the nightstand, you began to browse through your socials. Twitter, same old. Instagram, getting kind of boring. Facebook, always the same people posting the same thing.

Quickly growing tired of your feeds, you decide to check into the livestream that the band’s been holding for Amazon Music. Once you’re in, you immediately roll your eyes upon hearing Ashton’s attempt to write his own fanfiction about Calum and his ukulele ---- even getting a small laugh out of you.

As they continue on with their live shenanigans, you can’t stop staring at your boyfriend’s face on the top right of your screen. He’s always been more kept to himself than the rest of the guys, but when he makes those soft (and adorably funny) comments here and there, it made your heart flutter.

Something deep in your core begins to bubble after practically admiring your boyfriend through the screen, and before your mind goes further south, you decide to close out of the stream and browse through something else. TikTok immediately comes to mind. While you never really showed interest in the hype of it all ---- being in this quarantine for weeks has convinced you to give it a shot. And you’ve been hooked since. So here you are, scrolling through your feed as if it was your newfound addiction.

There’s this new trend circulating around the app where people would get naked in front of their partners (who were usually busy doing something) and film their reactions. The video idea has piqued your interest. You wonder how Calum would react if you do something of the like, mostly because he was always an avid fan of taking your clothes off for you. He found it sexier that way.

If you weren’t bored out of your mind right now, you would’ve waited. If you thought that your own fingers could give you the same satisfaction, you would’ve waited. But you’re craving for it now ---- your boyfriend’s attention, his eyes, his hands. You want him.

The guys wouldn’t mind, right?

Getting up from your previous position, you toss the towel wrapped around your damp hair to the side. As you’re standing, phone already in hand, your fingers work their way around the knot of your robe before untangling it.

Your thumb presses record once your robe unwound, the cool air trickling your skin as it entered through the opening. You then reach for the door to open it, making your way out and down the hall, towards the room Calum was streaming in. You can hear a string of laughter coming through, followed by your boyfriend murmuring a story about his favorite tattoo.

It doesn’t take long before you’re by the door of his office, body leaning against the frame. Calum’s sitting only a few feet away with his back turned against you, clearly focused on the livestream. He probably couldn’t hear you with the chunky headphones hovered securely over his ears, so saying something wouldn’t be the best idea. You didn’t want to disrupt the stream either.

So, you push the robe that was draped over your shoulders off. It glides down your bare body, before falling flat onto the dark mahogany floors. The mixture of the sight of your boyfriend and the thought of your body, revealed is enough to make you feel incredibly needy. You need to be touched, and it’s too late to go back.

As you reach down to grab the plush fabric from the ground, you mentally hope that you’ll be blessed with good aim at this very moment. You then take your chances and toss your bundled robe over Calum’s direction, and it perfectly lands on his head while he’s listening to one of his band members speak.

Instantaneously, his office chair swivels towards your direction. Your gaze meets his, and as his eyes trail further down your body, the gap between his lips grow wider.

His lips mouth a soft ‘fuck me’ while keeping his eyes on yours.

You can’t help but laugh softy, stopping the recording. You begin to really tease him by trailing your fingers down your skin. They start on your shoulder blades and move down to the tip of your nipples; a sight that’s left your boyfriend speechless.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back guys… I uh, need to use the bathroom,” Calum’s voice wasn’t steady at all.

And before he can even get a response from his friends, he’s already up from his chair, tossing the robe onto the couch that’s placed across from the desk. The beating of your heart turns rampant; you don’t know what to expect ---- is he angry? Annoyed?

Your question is soon answered when your body presses against his, his lips harshly colliding with yours full-force. His hands roam around your naked body, giving your ass a good squeeze before moving to the front to have his fingers brush against your throbbing clit, and back up to massage your breasts. These actions alone are enough for your core to pulsate. He’s hard too. You can feel it stiffen against your folds as you wrap your legs around his waist, letting your phone fall to the floor.

“God, Y/N,” he breathes, wasting no time to bring you back into the bedroom. “You can’t keep doing this to me, you know you’re my fuckin’ weakness.”

A soft giggle escapes your lips, bringing a finger up to delicately trace a line down his jaw. “I know,” you reply. “But I need you.”

That alone has your boyfriend letting out an involuntary moan, because fuck, that sounded so hot to him ---- he needs to be inside you.

Your back hits the soft mattress of the bed, and Calum settles between your legs, grinding his hard erection onto your wet pussy. You take it upon yourself to remove the hat that hovers over his eyes, throwing it as far as possible, before pulling him in for another kiss.

“We gotta be quick babe, the guys think I’m taking a shit,” he whispers with a small chuckle, which earned him a laugh on your end. It doesn’t ruin the momentum though, because after you nod, his hand snakes between your thighs, prying them apart.

His touch feels like electricity beginning to course through your veins. You can’t help but moan at his gentle fingers massaging circles around your clit. He dips them lower to spread the wetness across your folds, then bringing it back up to lubricate the sensitive bundle of nerves. You can’t contain yourself because god, his fingers feel so good on you. Your lips pepper kisses across his collarbones, softly moaning against his skin.

“I need you inside me, Cal,” you say softly into his ear, planting small kisses at the lobe.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Another moment isn’t wasted, and you help him push his athletic shorts and boxers down just enough to have his hard length spring free.

He lines his erection up against your slick folds before gradually pushing it in. Your eyes roll back at the pleasurable sensation, and you both moan in unison. His pace starts off as gentle and slow, leaning in again to satisfy his craving for your lips.

When he pulls away, he trails kisses down your neck and down to your breasts. Once he stops at your nipples, you’re greeted by his tongue flicking them, causing you to arch your back.  

His pace begins to quicken and the two of you are slapping skin. His grip on the thick duvet tightens until his knuckles lose color, and you rake your nails across his back muscles --- leaving red marks that won’t disappear until the next morning.

Calum pulls out without finishing, having you confused. He uses the time to properly get on his knees, using your legs to pull you closer to him. He takes your right leg and brings it up to rest on his shoulder and pushes himself back in. “Fuck, baby,” you almost say inaudibly at the feeling of him hitting your g-spot in the perfect way. You can feel yourself coming close to finishing as your fingers curl against the sheets.

“You ready cum for me?” there’s a smirk that’s laced across his features, fully aware of how he’s making you feel. He uses his thumb to rub your throbbing clit, matching the intensity of his thrusts. “Ready to cum all over my cock?”

Nodding feverishly with a moan, it doesn’t take longer for you to come undone. You begin to breathe heavily from the intense sensation, before flashing a smile over at your boyfriend. “That’s my girl,” he muses at the sight of you recovering from your orgasm, turning to kiss the leg that’s over his shoulder.

Calum’s thrusts begin to become sloppier and erratic. Quickly, he pulls out and begins to pump his length over you, before letting out a satisfying moan as he his strings of milky ribbons land on your glistening body.

You both take the moment to catch a breath. As your eyes meet, still breathing heavily, the two of you share an ‘I can’t believe that happened’ laugh. He pulls his shorts and boxers back up and grabs the nearest towel (the one you had on your hair after your shower), cleaning up the mess he’s made across your frame.

Once you’re all cleaned up, you hurriedly push your boyfriend out the door and back to his office to continue the livestream that totally flew past both of your heads. Calum rushes over to his chair and plops back down so hard that it almost causes him to fall off the chair. You snort at the sight ---- so loud that it definitely was caught in the stream.

“What the fuck happened to you, mate?” Michael’s voice echoes through the room. Calum must’ve removed his headphones from his computer. “You were gone for like, fifteen minutes. We thought you died, or something!”

“I had to take a shit, bro!” Calum laughs, running his fingers across his obvious sex hair before taking another deep exhale. “At least I take my time, unlike Ashton here. Fucker doesn’t even wash his hands.”

“Hey!” Ashton exclaims through the screen. “That’s not a nice thing to say, Calum. I hope…”

You need to do TikTok trends with him more often.

[peppersonironi]

Siblings: The Truth of the Matter

For @duketectivecomics‘s Duke Week Day Six: All in Batfamily

Summary: Duke had a strange family. Two of his siblings had been raised from birth to be assassins. One was born in a circus. One had been a crime lord for a time. Yet another was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company by the age of seventeen. All of them dressed up in spandex every night to punch bad guys.So when he was woken up by icy water being splashed in his face, tied to a chair in nothing but his boxers, he wasn't surprised. Now, that's not to say he wasn't worried. Duke was definitely worried. Especially since it was these two. AKA Duke gets tied up and questioned by his siblings, all while drugged with Truth Serum!

Notes: I’ve had this for a while (it was going to be a chapter of my Batfam/Avengers Crossover), and figured I might as well submit it! What’s family without pranks, right? I might do a new one later on, but we’ll see!

Duke had a strange family. Two of his siblings had been raised from birth to be assassins. One was born in a circus. One had been a crime lord for a time. Yet another was the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company by the age of seventeen. All of them dressed up in spandex every night to punch bad guys.

So when he was woken up by icy water being splashed in his face, tied to a chair in nothing but his boxers, he wasn't surprised. Now, that's not to say he wasn't worried. Duke was definitely worried. Especially since it was these two.

“Now, Thomas,” Damian said, setting a now empty water bucket to the side, “we have a few questions for you-”

“And since we loaded you up with truth serum, there's no way you're getting out of it!” Jason finished. He had an evil grin on his face as he fiddled with a hanging lightbulb that provided light to the otherwise pitch-dark room.

“Of course, the results of this session will go straight to Father. I'm sure he will take them into account with your training.” Damian had produced a clipboard from somewhere, and began to write on it with a… was that a feather quill? Gosh, Duke's brothers were so extra. “Todd, you may now commence.”

Duke could have sworn he heard water drip slowly into a pool as Jason bent over into Duke's face.

“Okay Duchess, what did you do with my power puff girls guillotine? I know you were next to it last week.”

“Umm …” Duke didn't quite know what to say. This was not what he was expecting from The Red Hood. How could he even keep a straight face?! “Jay, do you know how weird that sounded?”

Jason did not find that funny. He stood up straight. “I guess we're doing this the hard way.”

“Wait, what?” Duke started to panic. Knowing Jason, 'the hard way' would probably involve lots of guns. “I don't know what you're talking about! I didn't know you even had a guillotine, let alone a power puff girls one!” Duke couldn't hide the upturn of his lip at the end of his speech. That was one sentence he never thought he would say.

“You saw it when you were in my room last Thursday!” Jason paused, and Duke once again heard the ominous drip. Drip. Drip. Of the water. “Say, Duchess, why were you in my room last Thursday?”

Duke thought back. “I think I was looking for you,” he began, “Dick wanted everyone together for a movie night.”

Jason shook his head. “That may add up, but you've still been around my stuff an awful lot, lately.” 

“Like what?” Duke asked, honestly confused.

“MY CANDY STASH!” Jason blew up. He waved his hands around, almost hitting the hanging lightbulb. “In the kitchen! You got into it, I know you did!”

“Do you mean the single Snicker's in the bottom cabinet?” Duke had found it just yesterday, but didn't touch it for fear of a glitter bomb booby trap. “I'm sorry, if there were more, I didn't touch them. I'm not your perp!”

“That Snicker's is my stash, duchess! And you looked at it funny! I know you were thinking about taking it!”

“Do you know what happens to people in this house when they eat the last of something?” Duke was filled with horrible memories of things he wished he could unsee. “There was all out war when Steph finished Dick's Captain Crunch cereal!”

Damian nodded his head as he kept writing. “Avoiding the questions and denying blame. Good, Thomas. I didn't think you had it in you.”

Jason glared at his partner in crime while Duke denied the … compliment?

“No I'm not! I'm answering the questions honestly!”

Damian gave Duke a look that was eerily similar to Dick's 'oh, honey' face. 

“What about my rubber bullets, kid?” Jason once again leaned down over Duke, and rested his hand on the back of the chair. “You took them. Thought using a vacuum would be sneaky, did'ja?”

Ah, now Duke was in trouble. He and Stephanie had been teamed up for a prank war, part of which involved stealing Jason's ammo. “That's what was all over the floor in the living room?” Thank goodness Bruce had taught him how to evade truth serum.

“What the f*** did you think they were?!” Jason was leaning in close now, his glare boring into Duke's soul. Drip. Drip. Drip. Went the water, its pace ever steady. Damian stood to the side, a small smirk on his face as he wrote down every twitch in Duke's face, every breath. Duke began to sweat from the pressure.

“What's going on?”

All three of the rooms occupants looked over to the sudden intruder. Stephanie stood in the now open doorway, flooding the room with light. She looked very confused.

Duke pulled his eyes away from his savior long enough to take in his now revealed surroundings, and was quite surprised.

Instead of some dark, dank corner of the Batcave, or some KGB torture cell, Damian and Jason had set up shop in one of Alfred's drawing rooms. The windows had been blocked off to limit to the light, and the furniture had been pulled to the sides of the room the only other thing on the floor was a large bowl of water. The lone lightbulb swung precariously from a wire pulled from the chandelier. The Chandelier itself seemed normal, except for -

“Dick?” Duke was open-mouthed at the 20-something year old man wrapped around the gold and crystal, an eyedropper in hand, which he seemed to be using to produce those ominous dripping noises. 

“Uh,” Dick laughed nervously, “hi?”

Stephanie laughed, grabbing the doorframe to steady herself. “Oh, this is gold! What are you even doing?”

Jason grinned, standing straight. He hit his head on the light bulb, but didn't seem that bothered. “We're interrogating Duke. Wanna join in?”

“Truth serum?”

“You know it.”

Stephanie beamed as she skipped over to the others. Before she could join in on the Duke-torture, however, Dick dropped down from his perch and put a hand out to stop the purple-clothed terror.

“Wait, you gotta be in character.”

Crap, Duke thought, as Stephanie nodded solemnly before shutting the door. Once the room was back to darkness, Dick retreated into the shadows, and the dripping continued.

Stephanie walked up toward Duke, pausing to take a deep breath. She put her hands in front of her face, drawing them down as she let out the air. Within moments, Stephanie Brown became a whole other person. A much, much scarier person.

Jason cursed as Steph stalked forward, giving Duke small satisfaction that he wasn't the only one scared. “Duke,” Stephanie drawled as she bent down, “Pancakes or Waffles?”

“I …” Duke looked around, searching for help. Some kind of help. Anything that could get him out of this mess. H***, he'd even take Bruce at this point.

“Duuuuuuke?” Jason asked. “Why don't you answer the lady? Surely old Alfred has taught you some manners while living here?”

“I …” Duke closed his eyes. “My answer is … yes.”

A small snicker floated from the darkness. Great, at least Dick found this amusing.

Stephanie, however, did not. She unleashed upon her prisoner the full brunt of her own batglare(TM). It was different than Bruce's. More Vicious. She accessorized it with a tight smile.

“Which you prefer, Duke?”

“I … I couldn't tell you.” Not if he wanted to live. “I … haven't had them in a while …” Ah, there you go Duke, he thought, beating the system.

Stephanie looked to Jason, and they both grinned. “Oh, I think we can help with that.” From somewhere behind her, Steph pulled two plates, one with a stack of pancakes, the other with waffles. Somehow, they were both warm. “Which do you like better Duke? Pancakes, with their light, fluffiness?” Stephanie waved the plate of pancakes under Duke's nose, and he had to admit they smelled divine. “Waffles, with their crisp exteriors, eggy interiors?” She switched the plates, and her smirk grew as Duke began to tremble. “One is clearly superior.”

“Stay strong, Thomas.” Damian said. The little gremlin had a small grimace on his face. Ah, so he was perfectly fine with stabbing his siblings, but Stephanie's emotional torture was now inhumane?

Yeah, it really was.

Duke smashed his lips together, the only part of his body that wasn't trembling. He wasn't going to tell Steph he preferred pancakes. He'd rather die.

“He's close.” Steph said, deadpan. “He just needs a bit of a push.”

“I got it!” Jason pulled out a syringe from his cargo pants. “One more dose of truth serum. This'll get him singin' like a bird!”

“But I was never Robin!” Duke blurted out before he could stop himself. Jason, Damian, and Stephanie looked unimpressed. “it's true ….” Duke muttered. 

“Poor banter,” Damian said as he took another note on his clipboard. “And to think you were doing rather well. Unlike Todd.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jason said as he tried to inject the dosage into Duke's neck.

“Jason, please!” Duke begged. “Don't! This is too much, even for you!”

“Duchess,” Jason said, shaking his head, “I've killed, maimed, and tortured people. Do you really think this is too much for me?”

“Damian?” Duke turned as much as he could in his restraints to look at his little brother. “Please, have pity! I thought we were good? We play video games together! You've told me I'm acceptable!”

The former assassin turned his head aside . “I apologize Thomas. This must be done.”

“Dick!” Duke was almost to tears at this point. “You're supposed to be the nice one! You're supposed protect your brothers! Protect me!”

Dick's voice trailed from the shadows, full of regret. But also … excitement? “Sorry, Duke, but I also have some questions for you.”

Duke wailed in horror as Jason launched himself forward, jabbing the needle into Duke. “Three minutes should do it.”

“BETRAYAL!” Duke called. Hopefully Alfred would hear. But Alfred knew everything that occurred in his house, so the chances that he wasn't already aware, were slim. Heck, the butler probably approved!

“Once again, Duke.” Stephanie announced, once the allotted time for the serum to start working had passed. She tented her fingers. “Do you prefer Waffles or Pancakes?”

Duke tried to stay quiet, he really did. But none of Bruce's training had prepared him for the horrendous, unstoppable force that was Batman's children.

Just then, Tim Drake opened the door to see a strange scene before him. Duke, tied to a chair wearing nothing but boxers. Jason, standing to the side with an empty syringe, a maniacal gleam in his eye. Stephanie, looking much like the super villains that they fought, her fingers tented, her face dark. Dick, once again wrapped in between the coils of the chandelier, eyedropper in hand.

His eyes were wide and unblinking as his mouth opened and closed, trying to form words.

Unfortunately, fate was not with the captive that day. Duke Thomas couldn't help but blurt out the words that sealed his fate: “I like pancakes better! The texture of waffles is just weird!”

“Uh …” Tim began before cringing as he heard Duke's words, then saw Stephanie's face. He looked to the heavens, as if begging for strength. “You guys look like you need some privacy. I didn't see anything.”

“No!” Duke called. “Tim, don't leave me!”

Tim shut the door behind him, but not before calling out: “Sorry dude, but I value my life.”

Stephanie tutted, shaking her head. “I'm sorry Duke,” she did not look sorry, “But no one's coming to save you.”

Jason whistled. “Wouldn't want to be you right now, Duchess.”

Duke slunk down in his chair. “Me neither.”

Stephanie opened her mouth, about to start a rant on the glories of waffles, when Dick leapt down from the chandelier and handed Steph his eyedropper. “Nuh-uh, it's my turn!”

The purple patron saint of waffles harrumphed, but retreated into the shadows. “I'm not doing that freaky contortion stuff on the chandelier though!”

Dick grinned as he sat down in front of Duke. From a pocket of his jeans, he pulled out an envelope. Out of which he plucked a piece of paper.

“Now, Duke, I have collected some fan-questions for you. All are completely harmless. Do us all a favor and answer … truthfully, eh?”

Duke groaned. “That was just bad, Dick.”

The acrobat didn't seem discouraged. He then unleashed a barrage of questions, completely unrelenting. Luckily, Duke was prepared.

“Best prank you ever pulled?”

“Was prepared.”

“Worst punishment you ever received?”

“Dolled out by Alfred.”

“Most embarrassing memory?”

“Not worth me telling you.”

Jason laughed appreciatively. “He's good.”

Dick narrowed his eyes slightly. “Your funniest pun was …?”

“Better than yours.” 

Stephanie, Jason, and even Damian let out a laugh at that.

“Kid, you are now my favorite brother.”

“Hey!” Damian and Dick said, simultaneously.

“Thanks Jay,” Duke said, “If only you felt this way before you drugged me!”

Jason laughed. “You're funny, Duchess.”

Once again, the door opened. This time, Harper Row stood in the doorway, and she did not look happy.

“What's this that Tim told me about you tying up Duke?”

“It's not what you think!” Dick began.

“Yes it is!” Duke cut in. “They gave me truth serum and are interrogating me!”

There was a war going on in Harper's eyes. On one hand, she seemed to be trying to be the responsible sister. On the other, Harper loved chaos. 

In the end, she sighed. “You guys really shouldn't be doing this. And you, Dick! You're supposed to stop these kinds of shenanigans!”

“That's what I said,” Duke muttered.

Once everyone looked properly remorseful – or at least pretending to be – Harper nodded. “I'm going to go now. This is your only chance.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, and Duke's last hope left, Jason let out a sigh. “That was close. Let's continue, shall we?”

Duke let out a moan, “I thought you were going to stop!”

Stephanie's voice was gleeful as it came from above: “Aw heck no, Duke! This is the most fun I've had in ages!”

“Better hurry up,” Jason said, “B will be home soon.”

Dick nodded sagely. “Of course.” He turned to Duke. “Okay, middle D, one last question for you.” Duke cringed. “It involves ducks.”

Duke’s eyes widened. “NO!” He yelled, knowing exactly what Dick was going to ask. “NO! You can’t make me!

Dick shook his head. “Aw, come on!” Duke continued to shake. “Duke Thomas, how many times have you-”

“What on earth is going on here?” Duke let out a relieved sigh as Bruce opened the door and strowed in. He glared at everyone, and even though every single member of the batfam was immune to Batman’s glare, it still gave Duke’s attackers  siblings pause.

“Just some brotherly bonding, B.” Dick said tentatively. “You know, what you’re always trying to get us to do?”

Jason snorted. “Nothing harmful going on here,” he said, “and that’s the truth.”

Dick chuckled. “Ah, that pun was good, little wing.”

Bruce was not impressed. “Stephanie?”

“We’re having fun!” She said, dropping from the chandelier. “And we’ll clean it up.”

Bruce let out a long, suffering sigh. “Damian, will you tell me what all this yelling is about?”

Damian frowned at his father, before glancing around at his accomplices. “Todd and Grayson insisted on drugging Thomas with Truth serum. I was roped into assisting. I believed that I could keep them from going too far.”

Bruce rubbed his temples and sighed once more.

“If I may, father, Thomas performed admirably under the pressure. You may refer to my notes.”

“Little brat,” Jason muttered, and Stephanie and Dick nodded along.

Bruce shook his head. “I don’t need to see that Damian. Right now I want all of you to go to your rooms. As soon as Alfred is back from the grocery store, He and I will be having a discussion about your cookie privileges.”

Dick, Stephanie, and Jason deflated all at once and filed out of the room. Damian nodded to Duke, then stalked out. Huh, maybe the kid did feel bad.

Once the room was clear, Bruce untied Duke. "I'm sorry about them. If it happens again, come tell me or Alfred."

Duke nodded, "Thanks, B."

Bruce paused at the door on his way out. “The cure is in the cave. Or you can just wait it out.” He frowned, then sighed. “Also, I hope you don’t need me to say this, but please don’t attempt vengeance.”

Duke nodded solemnly as Bruce walked out. Then he smirked. He may be comparatively saner than his family, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t up for a bit of payback.

“Maybe Cass will help me,” Duke muttered to himself. “That’ll be fun.”

[itsthemoofacewriting]

Burnin’ up

Summary: On a ship as lively as theirs, Zoro should have known there’s no such thing as privacy. Aka Zoro and Nami keep getting cockblocked. Rating: M. Explicit. 

Can also be found on FFN and AO3.

So, this is a sequel to ‘Feel the burn’. It’ll probably help if you read that first, there are a few references from that story in here.

Amazing Pink left a really nice review on FFN, saying they were looking forward to more and I was so adamant that this was a one-shot and at the time, I was so sure too! But my other WIPs are being difficult right now and my mind drifted over to what a sequel to this would look like… at 2am and thus, this was born! So really, we all have Amazing Pink to thank for the gentle prod, I’m not sure I would have given it any thought otherwise.

Also, no, I was not inspired by ‘Burnin’ up’ by the Jonas Brothers (but I did listen to it after I realised… it’s a good song, let’s not lie).

Enjoy.

It’d been weeks since the crew had found out about his relationship with Nami. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting back then when they inevitably did find out. They’d blinked up at the crow’s nest as him and Nami peered down at the crumpled form of Sanji, who was still laying there holding that stupid drink upright like it was the most important thing, and watched as a lightbulb slowly appeared over their heads as they pieced it together.

Well, Luffy took longer but when he finally realised, prompted by Robin and Usopp, he’d shrugged like it was nothing new and asked Sanji if he could have the drink.

They… didn’t care.

Not in the slightest.

Nami had rolled her eyes and said they should go down and get it over with. He didn’t enjoy the knowing looks, but it could be worse. He wasn’t sure what that worse was. They were crewmates… friends, what did they have to actually be upset about?

Instead they’d looked apprehensively as Sanji got to his feet, his eyes had flitted from Zoro to Nami, no doubt trying to decide what absurd reaction to have. The last thing Zoro had expected was for him to kneel in front of Nami, taking her hand in his and press his forehead to it, telling her he’d pray for her good luck, that she didn’t deserve whatever curse had been put upon her to have to deal with that marimo idiot.

Nami had been stupefied for a second but then she’d laughed, head thrown back and Zoro grit his teeth. Neither of them had expected this but of course he should have known that the stupid cook would take this opportunity to take a shot at him.

And just like that, the moment had passed. Everyone was up to speed and watched as Zoro and Sanji duked it out before Nami stepped in.

Nothing had changed.

.

.

.

Considering how easy everything had been up to then, from getting together with Nami and the crew finding out, this wasn’t a hurdle he was expecting.

They kept getting cockblocked.

Whether it was in her room, in the bathroom, in the men’s room… even in the library when she was supposed to be working on maps- they were interrupted. The main perpetrator was Sanji. Zoro suspected he was doing it on purpose, he wasn’t sure how, but he just knew it. It was to get under his skin, the cook was definitely thatpetty and what made it worse was that it was working.

This time was no different.

It was late and Nami had been sitting by her trees when he’d found her with a drink in hand. Dinner had long since passed and they could still hear Luffy and the other’s playing in the distance somewhere on the ship. But it was far enough away that they didn’t have to worry about being interrupted.

Nami’s head settled on Zoro’s shoulder and as much as he put on a show of griping about having to share his alcohol, he still let her have it relatively easily.

“Mm, this is nice,” Nami hummed.

Zoro didn’t respond verbally, but he did hum back at her in agreement. It was rare they could have a quiet moment together. That didn’t last for though as Nami’s hand came to rest on his thigh and started to play with the fabric of his trousers.

He looked down at the hand and although she wasn’t looking, he still raised an eyebrow. “Playing with fire there, Nami.”

“Nothing I can’t deal with,” she said, tilting her head up to look at him and even he knew that was an invitation.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers and although he meant to keep it brief, her free hand snaked up to the back of his head to hold him there. Not one to be outdone, he slanted his lips against hers and pulled her into him. She hummed again but this one wasn’t to convey content; it was to spur him on.

It worked.

He was pushing her back after that, so she laid beneath her trees and he was hovering above her. Her arms wrapped around his waist and her hands ran along his back. As he slipped his tongue into her mouth, his own hand ran along her bare thigh to play with the hem of her skirt.

Just as his hand was about to explore further, that’s when it happened.

“Nami-san~”

A voice that wasn’t his, calling after his girlfriend.

“I don’t believe in God, but I’m willing to if it meant he’d leave us alone,” Zoro said, irritated, against her lips. His hand already retreating down her leg.

“This was funny at first but now…” She sighed heavily; her head thumping back against the decking.

“It was never funny,” he hissed. His trousers were always way too tight when this happened, he couldn’t see the humour in it.

“Oh come on! Seeing the normally composed, aloof swordsman all worked up? Pure gold,” she teased, now looking at him and leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his lips. It was a winding down kiss and Zoro knew it all too well by now.

“Nami-san~” The voice sang again, much closer than either of them expected and the loud footsteps told them the interloper was drawing in quickly.  

How the hell did he find her so easily? Zoro was convinced he’d put a tracker on her.

Hurriedly, he was tugging her back up as she was smoothing her hair down to look presentable when Sanji appeared. Sanji didn’t look phased in the slightest, either he didn’t know, or he didn’t care what they’d been doing. It was too early to tell which it was. Zoro glared at him but Sanji wasn’t looking, eyes trained on Nami instead.  

“Sanji-kun,” Nami greeted, although even her voice sounded strained, at least he wasn’t the only one affected. However, that wasn’t the name he wanted to hear coming from her lips right now.

“Nami-san, I’ve made a dessert in the kitchen for both you and Robin-chan, would you do me the honour of accompanying me there?”

As soon as he asked, Zoro knew she wouldn’t refuse him. Nami could be rude when she wanted to be, normally when she was busy, but evidently, she wasn’t now, and she definitely wouldn’t continue where they’d left off. So, it was no surprise when she stood to follow Sanji, telling Zoro that she’d find him later.

When Nami wasn’t looking, Sanji threw an all to knowing smirk over his shoulder at Zoro.

He knew it! Bastard.

Zoro wondered if during the next storm that hit, he could push the cook overboard and make it convincingly look like an accident.

But even that thought didn’t make him feel much better.

.

.

.

Now, Zoro had no shame about being walked in on. In his opinion, it’s the person’s fault for not knocking or for not minding their own business. But that wasn’t the case for Nami. For someone who’s so forward and confident in her sexual appeal, she’s oddly shy. She goes red, either gets angry or fumbles through being caught (depending on who catches them) and then leaves shortly afterwards.

And that’s fine, the mood’s been lost and if she’s not completely into it then even he doesn’t want to continue. But someone needed to tell that to his dick. Because that’s still ready to go afterwards, ready to soldier through and he’s not sure if he can bear having to calm himself down again.

All of that is thrown out of the window however, when Chopper walks in of them.

Things are getting hot and heavy in the library. Nami’s hovering over Zoro, her lips firmly attached to the junction between his neck and shoulder and when he feels her teeth, he knows he’ll be wearing a shirt for the next couple of days. He doesn’t need the heckling in the men’s room.

Both of them are shirtless, having got rid of them ages ago and at this point, Nami’s skirt should join the pile too because his hands have travelled from the back of her thighs up to her behind to play with sliver of lace there. It really served no purpose now other than bunching at her hips.

He’s about to move things forward when she beats him to it. Her lips trace up his neck the same time her hand moves down to rub over the bulge in his trousers. It takes her almost no time to find his length and stroke him through the material. His head’s thrown back and he’s groaning at her ministrations. He could happily come like this.

“Feel good?” She whispers hotly into his ear, but he can’t respond with words. His loud groan is enough though as she laughs lightly.

Feeling encouraged at his heavy breathing, her hand plays with the waistband of his trousers, fingers tracing along the skin there and making his hips jerk upwards. She pushes past his waistband, past his boxers and he exhales loudly as her fingers delicately touch his dick.

But the strangled squeak at the door brings everything crashing to a halt. They both freeze and turn their heads in horror to see the tiny reindeer stood there. Chopper’s expression mirrors theirs, his eyes round like marbles, and they can see him silently panicking, unsure what to do. But Nami and Zoro aren’t sure what to do either. So all three of them, stay frozen and staring at each other for another moment.

Nami seems to realise their position quickly enough and her hand shoots out of Zoro’s trousers. Her mood does a complete U-turn after that. From the confident, sexy woman above him that just had him squirming for her to a blushing mess that is trying to bury herself into him… or through him, he’s not sure.

That leaves only Zoro and Chopper still staring at each other because Nami’s left him to deal with this as she tries to master how to be invisible.

That lack of shame from earlier was a lie in this moment when Chopper darts out, slamming the door behind him without a word.

Nami’s face is still buried in his neck and he can feel the heat from her face on his skin. He’s pretty sure his face is matching. But on the bright side, his boner has instantly disappeared. Apparently, it’s one weakness is tiny, talking reindeers.

At least he doesn’t have to calm himself down now.

“Oh god. That’s mortifying,” She mumbled against his skin after a few silent moments. “Do we… go after him?” She’s finally pulled her head back to peer up at him.

He shrugged back. How was he supposed to know?

“You should talk to him. You’re close, he looks up to you.”

He spluttered. “And you’re not?”

“This feels like a guy thing.” Sitting up now, she gives him a thumbs up, completely over her embarrassment. “Good luck, Zoro!”

He glowered at her cowardice but knew there was no use arguing. Apparently, this had been settled.

Nami had just got her top back on and skirt straightened when the door opened again and both of them turn to gape as Chopper re-entered. Except this time, he inches in with much more caution and a hoof covering his eyes.

“Is everyone decent?” Chopper asked, slowly moving his hoof down but keeping his eyes closed.

Nami’s gurgling is apparently enough confirmation for Chopper to open his eyes and when he does, he looks incredibly determined. Nami quickly scampered off of Zoro’s lap to sit next to him and attempted to look presentable. Zoro snorted but winced at the elbow he received in the side.  

Chopper approached them both and in his free hoof he was holding condoms. Nami’s eyes bulged and Zoro grit his teeth, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Safe sex is really important. It’s dangerous to not be prepared for a number of reasons, mainly unplanned pregnancy but also for sexually transmitted diseases.” He’s looking at both of them as he speaks, completely clinical and in doctor mode. “Even if you don’t sleep with other people, it’s possible to contract them in other ways and pass them on through sexual activities.”

“Oh god,” Nami said quietly, face burning but still nodding.

Zoro has enough sense to stick his hand out and accept the condoms. He almost balked at the amount of condoms Chopper puts in his hand and is that lube in there?! He doesn’t ask, he’s not sure Nami would survive it.

“Do you need a demonstration on how to put a condom on? Because incorrectly done makes the condom useless.”

Nami wheezes but shook her head and Zoro replied for the both of them. “No, we’ve got this covered.”

Chopper seems to accept that and nods.

“If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate.” Chopper paused, giving them both a moment to think it over, before continuing, “I’m the ships doctor and this is important. I’ve already had this conversation with Robin and Franky.”

That lightens the tension and their embarrassment floods out at the knowledge of tiny little Chopper giving their oldest members the talk. At least Nami doesn’t look like she’s going to combust anymore, and he knows that she’ll be getting details from Robin about that later.

Chopper left shortly afterwards, with a final comment to please come to him with anything, and Nami relaxed slightly, letting out a deep breath in relief.

“Well, looks like I don’t have to talk to him now.”

He felt like he didn’t deserve the punch.

.

.

.

“Whoops, sorry guys,” Usopp said, hand covering his eyes immediately after walking into the library and seeing them sat next to each other. “I didn’t see anything.”

“We weren’t-”

“No need to be embarrassed-” Usopp cut in.

“We’re not embarrassed!” Zoro said. What’s there to be embarrassed about, they’re not even touching.

“It’s a completely natural thing between a couple-”

“For god sake!” Nami snapped, “Uncover your eyes, we’re not doing anything!”

“Do you guys need more condoms? Chopper said-”

That was enough for Nami’s temper to snap. “Get out of here!” And then a book’s being thrown where Usopp once stood.

The door slammed behind him and they’re left in the silence of now knowing that there’s no way the crew aren’t talking about this amongst themselves.

Because Usopp had never walked in on them before.

.

.

.

Zoro wonders how Franky and Robin do it.

He’s currently in the crow’s nest and, normally, he’d be completely focused on what he’s doing but he can’t stop his mind from wandering.

It’s apparently no secret in their crew that him and Nami haven’t been able to get very far, much to his annoyance. Annoyance that they haven’t got far and that they’re all talking about it. He knows they are, based on the looks he’s getting from Franky and he hasn’t even walked in on them. The older man keeps giving him looks like he wants to come and talk to him about it. For now Zoro’s keeping him at bay with his glaring but he knows that only works for so long. He didn’t want to have another sex talk.

Maybe it’s all Robin, Zoro thinks, circling back to his original thought. Franky was huge, there was no missing him, but Robin was crafty. With all the hands and eyes and ears. Maybe she uses them to stop people walking in on them… and can’t she duplicate herself?

Zoro suddenly grimaces, catching himself before his thoughts go elsewhere. There is no way he’s thinking about someone else’s sex life right now. Especially his friends.

Maybe he should just suck it up and ask Franky for advice. He could already imagine Franky’s blubbering but Zoro knew he’d keep it a secret… although he’d definitely tell Robin and she’d tell Nami. And Nami would tease him, even if it helps her too.

Urgh.

“You’re doing it wrong,” a teasing voice called from behind and he turned to see Nami grinning up at him from the entrance of the crow’s nest.

Well aware of the familiar scene before him, he teased back, “Enjoying the view? That costs you know.”

Nami laughed sharply, pulling herself up into the crow’s nest to walk towards him. “We’ll call it even from the last time.”

“Oh, so you admit you’re staring now?” And just like that, any of his previous thoughts vanish as they fall into their normal routine.

Although he’s already warmed up, he still waits for Nami to catch up and stops his squats to walk over and correct her stance. They’ve fallen into a natural rhythm working out together. She doesn’t always join him, he works out every day and sometimes she just doesn’t have the time, so she appears whenever she has a moment to spare. He’s come to enjoy this time they spend together and sharing his knowledge with her. Also, from his appreciative glances when he’s not entirely focused, he can see she’s starting to tone up.

“Is there even a point to me spotting you? I’m pretty sure that weighs more than I do.” Nami’s warmed up by this point but she’s taking a small break before going into sit ups.

“No, but the view’s good so don’t move.” And shamelessly his eye flicked from her face to her chest and back. His grin only widening at her flushed cheeks, but he doesn’t miss the way her own eyes linger around his chest and arms. “Helps if you watch the weight though.”

“I could say the same to you!”

Despite his teasing, Zoro’s kept his hands to himself, only touching her when he needs to. A stark contrast from their normal workouts together and so far, Nami hasn’t noticed. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t know if he could face another interruption. Normally they don’t bother him up there, but if Nami’s with him the crew suddenly turn into blood hounds.

He’d back off until he can at least speak to Franky.

Pride be damned.

“Okay, that’s me done here. You’re going into sit ups,” Zoro said, pointing towards the mat in front of the crow’s nest bench.

With no hesitation she walks over to lay on the floor and start. Normally, he was taking orders from her but up here she followed his word so easily. It surprised him at first and at one point he wondered whether he missed her normal bossiness but she more than made up for it with smart remarks.

“You going to keep gawking like Sanji-kun or are you going to do something?”

Like that.

“Unlike the pervert, I can do both,” he said as he sat on the bench in front of where she was laying and picking up the weight there.

There was a peaceful silence between them as they focused on their respective tasks but Zoro found his gaze drifting over to Nami. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her breathing steadily getting heavier, but she was lasting much longer than normal these days. He’d have to switch up her routine soon to keep her on her toes.

When she laid down after her last sit up, he couldn’t stop himself from looking her over. From the blue leggings to the matching sports bra, she was panting on the floor and he had to try and keep himself from imagining her like that for different reasons. He’d made his mind up and getting himself worked up would only come around to punish him in the long run.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the rest of us are stepping off the ship for a bit.” The sudden appearance of a mouth on the wall didn’t faze either of them, they’d been around it for far too long. “We’ll be gone for a few hours… do with that what you want.” Humour was thick in Robin’s voice before the mouth disappeared in a flutter of flowers.

There was a short silence that followed afterwards as Zoro and Nami looked at each other. The atmosphere shifting slightly in the crow’s nest as the words started to sink in.

Except Nami didn’t seem surprised.

“You’ve been speaking to Robin,” he accused, narrowing his eye.

“Maybe.” She sat up and attempted to look innocent. “Can you really blame me though?”

“Desperate for me then?” He smirked and leaned towards her.

“Like you haven’t been thinking about talking to Franky.” She rolled her eyes, leaning back on her arms to stretch out her body. It worked when Zoro gave her a once over.

Well, she had him there. Sometimes he wondered if she could read his mind. He said nothing but that told Nami everything as her smile broadened.

“Anyway, you should be thanking me.” She stood, getting to her feet to stand in front of him and he wasted no time in making a gap between his legs for her to stand between. “We have a free ship. No interruptions,” she said lowly.

“At this point, I don’t think I’d care if we were interrupted.” His gaze darkening as his hands palmed at her hips.

“Big words coming from someone who still can’t look Chopper in the eyes,” she snorted, her hands equally adventurous as they ran along his shoulders.

“You can’t either!” And he pinched lightly at her hip in retribution.

“Shut up and kiss me Zoro.” She’d long since had enough of this conversation but it didn’t matter for Zoro because it’s a command that he can wholeheartedly get on board with.

He wasted no time in pulling her down onto his lap

The kiss is bruising, and it’s with more force than he’d intended, but honestly, he didn’t care. Because she’s kissing him back just as roughly, lips frantically moving against the others and their teeth clash together at one point, but it doesn’t deter them. They’ve both been waiting far too long for this and it’s obvious in the way she’s already pulling at his hair and he’s probing her lips with his tongue.

They pause to breath roughly against the other’s lips but there’s no rest when her hands insistently start pulling up his top. “You never wear a top to work out and you pick today of all days to?”

“You should have told me your plan beforehand and I would have made sure I was wearing as least as possible.”

The moment his top’s off and thrown behind them, her hands are smoothing across his chest and he’s pulling her back into their kiss. It’s less bruising now but still just as desperate, enthusiasm dripping into the kiss. His hands slip up her waist lingering around the dip in it before fiddling with the clasp of her sports bra.

The bra teases him when they work out together and it’s still doing it now.

“Would you hurry up,” she said against his lips, impatient but unwilling to break the kiss properly. Her hands are now playing with the waistband of his bottoms and it’s not helping him focus on the task.

“Well it’s hardly like I’ve had much practice with taking your clothes off, is it?” He grumbled back. His fingers felt far too big for such a tiny clasp, how did women do this every day?

“We’ll work on it, but now’s not the time.” Her hands leave his waistband to meet his at her bra clasp and she pushes them away to unhook it with such an ease that it almost mocks him. It’s hard to still be annoyed when the bra’s off and joining his top of the floor.

With her breasts now free, he aims for her neck, working kisses down it and nipping as he works his way down. Her hands are in his hair, threading through it and encouraging him to continue. He kisses a particularly sensitive spot when she shallowly gasps but it’s nothing compared to the noise she makes when he finally reaches her breasts. It’s louder, less surprised and filled with pleasure that makes him twitch in his trousers.

He’s rewarded with the sound again when he takes her nipple into his mouth and licks. Her hips are grinding into his and it’s hard to focus but he doesn’t stop her. If anything, his free hand is pressing her hips into his even more to increase the pressure.

When she bounces this time, he’s pushing her off of him and onto the mat on the floor. He follows after her quickly to cover her body with his own and this position is much easier to roll his hips into hers. They both moan when he does.

“Zoro- hah- take off your trousers,” she rushed out, breathless when he doesn’t relent on sucking on her nipple.

He just about hears what she’s saying over the pulsing in his ears but he’s more concerned with getting her leggings off. He leaves her nipple then, leaving it with a parting kiss before he’s sitting up and pulling down the waistband of her leggings. He doesn’t need to say anything for her to lift her hips, but he does when he struggles to get the leggings off her legs.

“What are these things made of?” He huffs, now sat back on the ball of his feet and glaring down at them.

Nami doesn’t respond but she does start laughing when he gives a particularly harsh tug and they barely give.

“Laughing isn’t helping here Nami!”

“Sorry- it’s just- your face!” She snorts in laughter. “Actually, take these too.” And she’s pulling her underwear down to meet the leggings now at her calves.

Zoro tried to stay focused but she’s almost naked before him for the first time ever and he can’t look away. The leggings finally give and he’s angrily flinging them across the room, hoping he never sees them again.

The foot on his arm distracts him from lingering on that thought for much longer and Nami’s nodding towards his own bottoms. “Take them off too!”

Something that he wholeheartedly agrees with and he’s standing

Nami’s looking up at him in disbelief and eyebrows raised when he joins her on the floor again. He quirks an eyebrow.

“No underwear?”

He snorts. “Never do. Waste of time.”

He’s not interested in her response, although she definitely does mutter something under her breath and it’s most likely snarky. Instead he’s kissing her again, less rushed as it sinks in that they’ve really got time and there’s no one ready to walk in at any second.

His hand wanders down, skimming over her stomach and all too quickly it’s grazing over wet lips. He bites back a groan when he realises how wet she is when they’ve barely done anything but Nami’s moaning below him as his hand teases her. Stroking up and down, he watches her eyebrows knot and she’s biting her lip to hold in her moans.

That won’t do.

With his free hand, he holds her jaw to make sure she can’t look anywhere else but at him and the thumb on his other busy hand stroke over her clit. She gasps then, unable to hold in the noise.

“Come on Nami, you’re not normally quiet. I want to hear you loud, tell me how much you’re enjoying yourself.”

The pinch in her eyebrows and downward curve of her mouth tells him she’s about to refuse him but when she opens her mouth his thumb picks up the pace and instead of words, a wanton moan breaks free from her lips.

“That’s it,” he praised and as much as he’s desperate for his own relief, hers is far more important to him. He’s trying to take in as much of her face as he can, and he almost wished he still had his other eye in this moment.

“Okay, enough,” Nami panted out and she’s pushing his hand away. Before he can ask what’s wrong, she’s cupping him. “I want you in me.”

Damn.

And he’s all too ready to follow that command.  

“Hang on.” Zoro got up and walked over to the locker across the room. He pushed some stuff out of the way before finding what he was after. He turned back to Nami and smirked as he held up a condom.

“Chopper would be so proud,” Nami laughed. “But you called me desperate yet you’re the one storing condoms around the ship?”

“Saved us time, didn’t it?” He said, shrugging, as he walked back over, throwing the condom down next to her and covered her with his body again. “And don’t mention Chopper right now.” That’s the last thing he needs going through his mind.

He kisses her after that, trying to quickly reclaim the mood and it’s not as lost as he thought it was when her legs start to wrap around his waist. What he doesn’t expect is for her to suddenly roll them so that she’s on top.

“I’d rather be on top if that’s okay with you?”

Oh shit. “Fuck, you’re sexy.”

“I’ll take that as a yes?” She winks at him and moves her hips against his. He can feel her wet heat on his dick, and it makes his head go fuzzy for a second. He needs this to speed up before he loses his load.

“Yeah, you’re sure? We can stop at any time.”

She’s smiling down at him softly and nodding back at him.

After that, she’s picking up the condom and rolling it down his dick. He stops breathing as she does. Then she’s taking his dick into her hand, lining him up and sinking onto him. He grips her hips and shit; this feels better than he could ever have imagined. Nami throws her head back and her palms are spread across his chest to give her some leverage.

He shouldn’t be surprised that she wants to be on top and in charge. It’s no different to their normal daily interactions, where she’s bossing them around and although he’d normally argue back- this he doesn’t mind. In fact, it gets under his skin in a pleasant way and makes him feel even hotter. It’s no secret that her bossiness turns him on a bit and the look she’s throwing at him now tells him she knows it too.

The first time she moves bobs up and back down he almost smacks his head back into the mat but he’s not about to take this laying down. The second time he digs his feet into mat to match her thrust and he’s rewarded with a load moan from her.

The pace only picks up from there and the room is filled with the sound of their moans and skin slapping as they both work towards their high together.

Except, far too soon, Nami’s pace is starting to slow and the way her legs are twitching tells him that she’s getting tired.

He sits up then, more than happy to take over the reins. “More squats for you next time,” he quips in her ear.

She swats his shoulder but buries her face in his shoulder and moans weakly at her last attempt to grind down on him. Gathering her in his arms, he started to stand, refusing to pull out of her and walked them towards the empty wall of the crow’s nest.

He’s well aware of how familiar this scene is, except this time around they’re having sex instead of making out. He presses her up against the wall, her legs still tight around his waist and he thrusted back into her.

“Do you know how good you feel?” He whispered to her.

He restarted the pace, slowly grinding into her and picking it up from there. He continued to whisper into her ear, about how she feels, how he’s going to make sure she sees stars and it worked as her moans start to pick up and she’s moving her hips against him.

She grips onto him, clinging to him in her pleasure and he knows he’s doing something right when he nails start to dig into his shoulders. Maybe it’s the masochist in him but it only turns him on further and makes him work harder.

The way she started to babble nonsense means he’s close to pulling her with him over the edge and he sure hoped so because he can feel his end coming.

“Touch yourself,” he said, his hands too occupied with keeping her up against the wall.

“Zoro.” The way she moaned his name really does something for him and he wants to hear it again. “I’m really close,” she whined.

“Me too,” he panted against her neck.

He kisses her after that and it’s sloppy and uncoordinated and they take more breaks to breath against each other’s lips than actually kiss but it only heightens the feeling.

It’s then, when her moans start to break apart and tumble out of her lips that he felt her tighten around him and he can feel his high drawing in. He can’t last though that feeling of her clamping down of him or her calling out his name. He thrusts in relentlessly to chase after his high and join her and he felt it shortly after, pleasure streaking down his back.

He isn’t even sure how he’s still on his feet or holding her up, but he managed it as he worked through his orgasm with her. It’s only as he started to come out of it that he realised he’s probably crushing her into the wall now instead of holding her up against it.

Stumbling over, he made it down to the mat and collapsed back, pulling Nami on top of him. She moaned weakly when he pulled out of her. Considering how his back stung, he can only imagine the marks he has there.

Nami came to when she started to press kisses against his chest and his hand continued to run a path up and down her back.

“Zoro, that was-”

“Great? Yeah, it was.” He smirked down at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Makes you want to kill our crew members for constantly interrupting us when we could have been doing this sooner? Yeah, it does.”

Nami laughed lightly at that but groaned shortly after. “I feel gross.”

And she had a point. They were sweaty from working out beforehand but mixing in sex with that only made it worse. He grimaced as he peeled off the condom.

“Let’s go get cleaned up.”

“Bathhouse?” She asked, eyes lighting up and it’s evident from her tone that they’ll be doing something other than getting clean.

“The door has a lock too.” His expression mirroring hers and promising other activities.

Nothing more needed to be said as Zoro hauled Nami up and towards the exit of the crow’s nest, clinging to one another as they went.

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

Shout out to Marimoandtangerine from Tumblr. She drew a scene of Nami and Zoro working out in the crow’s nest for the Tumblr event that we both took part in and joked how much our pieces mirrored each other without us even knowing… but now they definitely do because I incorporated that scene when writing this.  

You can see her fantastic art here.

Chopper said safe sex! The moment I had him walking into this cockblocking escapade, I had to have him giving a lecture.

As always, please excuse any errors.

Thanks for reading.

[dickgrayson80sremixmp3]

batboys h.c. #1 - hair

dick

- dick uses custom shampoo and conditioner because he is a vain bitch who never grew out of his trust fund baby ways (i’m picturing like the function of one here purely bc that’s what i have #notanad)

- he enjoys choosing the different colours and experimenting with fragrances; currently he has pear and apple which he likes but his heart lies with vanilla milkshake (soft)

- he’s an early bird (ha) and always works out in the mornings so he showers and washes his hair then

- he finishes his showers with a blast of cold water (one of a few reasons his s/o refuses to share showers with him) - he claims it’s to wake him up but it’s really bc he heard it would make his hair shiny and dick is very willing to suffer for Beauty

- dick mastered the towel turban at a very young age

- but nowadays he has a special microfibre turban to reduce frizz

- picture dick grayson standing in his kitchen eating cereal and making a gross green smoothie wearing nothing but the tightest black boxers and a towel turban

- never say i don’t do anything for you

- when it comes to styling dick is all about volume

- when he takes his hair out of the turban he works a huge blob of mousse into it and then spends up to twenty minutes scrunching it until it looks perfectly tousled

- he likes to walk around while he does this so he has mirrors all over the apartment sure that’s the only reason

- he has a habit of running his hand through his hair though so however neatly styled it starts out it always becomes a messy heap within a couple of hours

- still v charming tho

jason

- jason is working his way down the curly hair aisle of his local beauty supply store. he picks up a different shampoo and conditioner set every time

- he’s friendly with the puerto rican women who own the store and sometimes asks them for advice

- they’ve recommended that he try a co-wash but he’s secretly worried it won’t be tough enough to clean blood and gotham harbour water out of his hair on a regular basis

- his actual routine is v basic though

- step 1: he showers when he comes in from patrol around 4/5am and washes his hair

- step 2: uses a ton of conditioner every time

- step 3: puts a towel over his pillowcase and goes the fuck to sleep

- naturally he wakes up with a mess

- drags himself to the bathroom sink, wets his hands, and rakes his fingers through his hair until his hair is at least more evenly distributed over his head

- it usually sorts itself out to some extent eventually and he spends so much time with a helmet on that he’s not too fussed about how it looks

- boom

- thatse it

- he does have a secret self care ritual - it’s not regular but every couple of weeks or so he covers his hair in a deep conditioning mask and tucks it into an old shower cap he found under the sink. next the face mask goes on, he gets a smoothie/glass of wine/elaborate cocktail depending on his mood, fluffy robe, and settles onto his sofa with a book for a couple hours

- he only does this when he’s sure to be alone and interrupting this ritual is liable to get you shot (ostensibly a warning shot but he’s not particular about where he aims said warning shot)

tim

- listen i love tim to death but the truth is he forgets to shower on an upsettingly regular basis and his hair gets greasy easily :(

- luckily all it usually takes is an ‘ew snape’ and he’s off to the bathroom at a light jog

- a freshly shampooed tim drake however is the most beautiful thing in the world

- somehow manages to have nineties boy floppy curtains in the year of our lord 2020 and not look like a prick

- this boy is a serial shampoo thief and it is not uncommon for him to walk into a room, someone to sniff the air, and promptly beat him up for hair product theft

- will he learn from this? absolutely not

- when his bangs get long enough he tucks them back behind his ears (it’s adorable)

- even more adorable is when his s/o starts leaving hair accessories lying about

- timothy drake-wayne sitting in the batcave looking sternly over his case notes with glittery butterfly clips holding his hair back

- he does not use a single styling product on his hair it just does that

- perfectly straight and shiny every time, no cowlicks, no frizz

- it’s infuriating

- after a disastrous experiment with bleach in his early teens tim resorted to a buzzcut rather than let it grow out

- the effect was,,,,interesting

- he’s constantly threatening to shave it again but everyone knows he won’t go through with it bc he heard a barista at his favourite coffee shop swooning over his hair once and now he brings it up every time someone criticises him

- ‘oh yeah well if i’m such a waste of space how come i have “““ the prettiest hair in the world ohmygod it looks so soft don’t you just wanna touch it”””, damian’

- no that’s not the reason it’s his favourite shop what are you talking about

duke

- used to have it all figured out but a recent change in career path has left him high and dry

- before becoming the signal duke’s hair was the best on his street - he favoured twist braids but he was considering locs

- wearing a helmet has kinda limited his options, so his hair is in cornrows for now to make sure his helmet fits properly but he’s not mad keen and he’s trying to figure out how to broach the subject with his barber without compromising his secret identity

- speaking of his barber there’s only one guy at one shop who duke trusts with his fade

- the shop is in south gotham

- as in the other goddamn end of the city

- it’s a fuck ass long drive from the manor

- every time he goes he looks wistfully at his old street as they pass (a fifteen minute walk from his shop)

- his stash of products at the manor are the only ones safe from tim

- it’s not that tim respected his boundaries or anything but the one time he used one of duke’s deep conditioners without checking he came out of the shower with oilier hair than he went in

- duke brought his own satin pillowcases to the manor bc he guessed (correctly) that bruce would never think of it

- they make jason snigger bc he thinks it’s like a sexy thing (ooOOoo SiLk ShEeTs)

- duke just looks over jason’s hair with a judgemental stare and tells him maybe his curl definition wouldn’t be so poor if he got satin pillowcases of his own

- (dick and tim: OOOOOOOOO)

- ((roy, somewhere in star city: OOOOO, artemis: wtf are you doing ? roy: didn’t you feel it? the burn?))

- this one got out of hand rip

damian

- when he was with his mother and the league he never concerned himself with the toiletries provided for him he just used them

- it’s only when he comes to america and is presented with fake apple scented goo that he misses what he had

- the issue is that he doesn’t even know how to start looking for his old products, and it’s not like he can just call talia up and ask her which shampoo she used on him as a child

- he does consider it though

- mostly he just sulks until dick takes pity and tries to help him figure it out

- it is not successful and damian is now somehow mad ???

- as a distraction and filled with regret dick buys him a shampoo bar, the decision primarily based on proximity and novelty value - he hopes the time it takes damian to figure it out will give him time to get away

- this is more like it - damian appreciates the more sophisticated sandalwood scent and also its environmental credentials

- the downside to the bar is that it’s somewhat drying

- damian solves this issue with the only product he can remember his mother using - moroccan argan oil

- as a result his hair is now smooth, shiny, and ethical as fuck

- it also smells nice, which is the only thing tim can think of while damian is furiously challenging him to a duel, the top of his head directly under tim’s nose

- as a young ‘un damian likes to gel his hair into a part swoopy, part spiked quiff, which both highlights the thickness and lustre of his hair and also adds a crucial few inches to his height

- as an adult though just keeping it swept back neatly away from his face is enough

(a/n i rlly wanted to include duke in these headcanons bc he gets left out a lot but idk much about afro hair so if any obvious mistakes jump out to anyone drop me an ask and i’ll edit!! will also be uploading a batgals post next)

[bluebabycal]

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

Summary: Calum waking you up with sex basically

Word count: 2,634

Warnings: smut, smut, smut, smut, unprotected sex, cursing, oral (male and female receiving) more smut

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

Calum wasn’t sure when it happened, he couldn’t pin point the exact moment he fell in love with her. He also didn’t have a fixed reason, maybe it was the way she smiled, or how she kept making science and math jokes and laughing over them alone because Calum couldn’t understand some of them, maybe it was the way she obsessed over the tiniest of details, like how she couldn’t eat with a spoon and fork with different engravings on them. He really didn’t know and he really didn’t care either, all he knew is that he is madly in love with her and terrified shitless. He tried so hard to push the feelings away, or bury them deep down and ignore them, he could get drunk and hook up with different girls but she would always still be on his mind, he can’t remember how many cold showers he’d taken trying to get rid of her effect on him, or how many times he pleasured himself to the thought of her, it didn’t really help when she was over at his house almost every day, the two of them had met through a mutual friend at some house party in LA about 2 years ago and have grown closer overtime. He sat in his living, Brooklyn nine-nine playing on his TV as duke cuddled close to him, his front door opened signalling her arrival, he had given her a spare key over a year ago and she’s been religiously using it since, for many reasons, she’d come over while he was on tour to look after his plants or throw away any rotten fruit that sat out

“Honey, I’m home” she jokingly called out, dragging out the word ‘home’

“Living room!!” he answered and soon she was plopped down on the couch next to him and duke, she noticed how nice his thighs looked in his grey sweatpants, his shirt tightly hugging his body, he looked like a dream but she would never tell him that..

They told each other about their days, she’d brought with her some beer and a wine bottle which they were now sipping, the beer sat in the fridge as they waited for their pizza to arrive.

Hours passed by but to them it all felt like mere minutes, they sat on the couch, drunk and stuffed with pizza giggling at anything the other said not really paying much attention to the comedy playing on TV only being interrupted by Dukes’ bark as he stood in front of the door that led to Calums’ backyard “Alright buddy” Calum said walking towards him with her following closely behind, he opened the door, duke running out immediately, she ignored the furniture he had put there and opted to lay down on the grass, the cool October breeze felt exceptionally nice on her hot skin, Calum copied her actions and laid beside her

“What’s on your mind petal?” He asked, the nickname he had given her when they had just become friends made her heart jump, she hated it at first but has grown to love it over the years. She loved the way it rolled off his tongue, she loved knowing he reserved that nickname specifically for her and her alone, however, she did hate the effect he had on her, it was just a stupid pet name why was it making her heart beat faster

“Not sure” she responded making him chuckle

“The stars are pretty” she commented

“These three look like the freckles you have on your wrist” he commented pointing at the three bright dots in the night sky, she felt the blood rush to her cheeks at his comment, she did have three freckles on her wrist she just never knew he noticed them

“They’re not stars, they’re satellites” she couldn’t help but correct him, anything to ignore the way she was feeling

“Smart ass” he huffed getting up

“Come on I’m exhausted, let’s go to bed” she grabbed the hand he offered her and pulled herself up, he kept her hand in his as he called on duke, the loyal dog following the two of them back inside. Once indoors he locked the doors and dragged her to his bedroom, he gave her one of his shirts and a pair of shorts to change into then they both got into bed and fell asleep.

Calum woke up in the middle of the night, he sat up in bed his head resting against the headboard sighing to himself, the dream he had felt too real, the noises she made- his thoughts were interrupted by a soft moan escaping her lips, he quickly looked down at her, eyes wide and fixated on her expression, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips slightly apart as another moan left her lips, he could feel his sweats getting tighter and he mentally cursed. He debated whether he should wake her up or just let her be but a particularly louder moan of his name made him throw all care out the window, he could feel his cock throbbing, his heart hammering against his chest, the woman he’d been pinning over for almost a year was asleep in his bed moaning his name. Calum leaned down and pressed soft kisses to her cheeks, nose and forehead softly calling out her name in hopes to wake her up, his lips travelled down her jaw, licking and biting, she tossed a bit in her sleep “Come on petal, wake up”

“Calum?” he hummed against her, lips now on her neck “what are you doing?” Her voice groggy from the sleep, she didn’t stop the soft moan that left her lips when Calum found her sweet spot “Relax petal, I want you to tell me exactly what i was doing to you that had you moaning my name so loud in your sleep” she cursed under her breath, she could feel her face heating up in embarrassment, she was moaning his name while sleeping in his bed next to him, her moans were loud enough to wake him u, fuck, though if this was the outcome she couldn’t really complain, his hand trailed down the hem of the shirt she wore and tugged on it as if asking for her permission, she nodded her head and he pulled it off of her, his lips going to the flesh of her collarbones sucking on them, impatient and frustrated, she made quick work of her bra tossing it away making Calum groan at her actions, his lips wrapped around one of her nipples while one of his hands massaged the other pulling and twisting her nipples and leaving marks all over her chest, his hands travelled down to the shorts she wore “Can I?” He asked she mumbled a soft and breathless ‘yes’ in response he wasted no time pulling them down, he kissed over her clothed core making her moan, he took the hem of her panties between his teeth and pulled them all the way down and she practically melted at his actions bucking her hips to help him get them off

“What do you want me to do petal?” all she could do was buck her hips, desperate for some friction, “Use your words petal” he said pushing her back down, the pet name adding to her arousal “Your mouth Cal” she managed to choke out, desperation evident in her voice, “Come here” Calum grabbed her hand, laying back down and pulling her up “Want you to sit on my face” he explained noticing the confusion on her face, she bit her bottom lip, his hands on her hips guiding her to sit down on his face, his tongue licked up from her entrance to he clit, she lets out a gasp at the feeling of his tongue against her core, he wraps his lips around her clit flicking it with his tongue before going back to her entrance and dipping his tongue deep in her, she moans at the feeling and begins to slowly grind herself against his tongue one of her hands coming up to push her hair back, the other gripping the headboard to support her weight, Calum takes two of his fingers and pushes them deep inside her, his tongue now back on her clit, he curls and scissors his fingers in her and she’s trying her best not to move too much, the noises she made only edged Calum further, he never wanted to stop hearing them, he swore they were the most beautiful noises he had ever heard, he took his time with her and when she came he licked her clean and she moved off of his face, barely able to support her weight any longer

“Was that as good as your dream?” He asks a boyish smirk playing on his lips, she gets on top of him and leans down to his ear “Better” she whispered “now let me take care of you” her hands are now untying his sweatpants and pulling them off along with his boxers, she takes his erection in her hand and pumps him a few times before leaning down and kissing down his member then licking her way back up to his tip cleaning all the pre-cum off of it, her lips wrapped around his tip and she swirled her tongue around a couple times before slowly taking more of him in, her hand working on the part she couldn’t fit in her mouth, she bobbed her head up and down his shaft, his hand pulling her hair in a make shift ponytail, she looked up at him with innocent eyes and god he could’ve came right there and then, he let out a groan and threw his head back pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, he pulled on her hair and bucked his hips up, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat making her moan around him “Fuck petal, just like that” he moaned as she picked up her pace determined to get him off but he had other plans, “I wanna do this exactly the way you dreamt petal, so I’m not cumming just yet” he explained sitting up as he pulled her off of him “Now tell me, how did I take you?” he asks his hand slipping down to her folds pushing two fingers in her and slowly pumping, she moaned grinding against him, he loved watching her fuck herself on his finger, “From behind Cal, please I need more than your fingers” she begged “I’ll give you everything you want petal, I promise” his hand came up to the back of her neck pulling her close to him their lips meeting for the first time in a heated kiss, he slipped his fingers out of her, his hand wrapping around her waist to flip them over, their lips parted so he could turn her around, she got on her hands and knees for him, her ass up “Condom?” He asked and she shook her head “Do something Cal please, anything” he kissed up her back to her neck and rubbed his tip against her folds before pushing himself all the way in both of them moaning at the feeling, when he wasn’t moving, she got impatient and started to fuck herself on him slowly rocking herself against him “Just like that petal, fuck yourself on me” he grabbed onto her hair and watched as she picked up her pace, the noises he made pushing her to give him as much pleasure as she possibly could, she clenched down on him and he groaned pulling harder on her hair his other hand resting on her hip to stop her movements as he bent down to whisper in her ear “If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last sweetheart” and as if to test him she clenched down on him harder than the first time, she needed him to fuck her, hard “Fuck you’re really asking for it now” his hand left her hair and came down to her hip as he started ramming into her, the sounds of their moans and skin slapping against skin filling the room, he swore his name never sounded better than when she was moaning it, she was desperate for him, for his touch, and god he fucking loved it, he loved knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her, everything started to make sense, all the pain and heartache was worth it because it all led to her, it all led to this moment and she was worth it, he wanted to give her everything he possibly could, he was all hers and he needed her to know that “Fuck Cal I’m close” she whimpered, he pulled her up, her back against his chest one of his hands wrapped around her middle his fingers rubbing her clit harshly his other hand wrapped around her neck as he fucked her in a deeper angle, he had her whimpering with every thrust, one of her hands held onto the one around her neck, the other grabbed onto his arm as she clenched down on him her high washing over her intensely, no one had ever made her cum this hard before, “Where do you want my cum petal?”

“Want you to cum inside me Cal, need to feel you filling me up” he groaned at her response and if he was fucking her hard and fast before then he just set a new world record “Yeah? You’re gonna milk my cock petal?” He asked kissing on her shoulder “I promise Cal, I’ll take it all, every last drop please, I need you to give it all to me” she begged

“Look at you so desperate for my cum, love hearing you beg for it petal” he praised, she begged for him some more, her words eventually sending him over the edge as filled her up with ever last drop of his cum she moaned at the warm feeling “Feel so good Cal fuck” he gave her a few final thrusts before pulling out, he watched some of his cum leak out of her but he quickly collected it and pushed it back in with his fingers “Keep it all in petal” when he made sure that his cum isn’t leaking out of her any more he bent down to grab his shirt and cleaned around her entrance and her thighs then cleaned himself, they got comfortable in bed, cuddling under the sheets, he’d occasionally leave a peck somewhere on her face,

“Petal?”

“Yes Calum” she responded looking up him, she heard the nerves in his tone and saw it on his face, her stomach dropped and she pulled away from him sitting up in bed, did he regret this?

“What’s wrong” she asked not really sure if she wanted to hear his answer, he held her hands in his, rubbing the back of her palm with his thumb

“I don’t mean to ruin the moment but I need to know what all this means to you, because I’m in love with you petal, I have been for almost a year now and if this was just a one time thing for you and if you don’t feel the same I need to know” she pulled her hands away from his and Calum felt his heart sink, a feeling he was unfortunately used to,

“Are you thick?” She asked her hands cupping his face

“I’m in love with you too Calum, this isn’t a one time thing for me” she assured him, a comforting smile on her lips which he returned leaning in to capture her lips with his.

[ravenkinnie]

ao3

Cass isn’t big on teams which seems to be uncommon in her family.

It’s not that she hates working with others, getting away from Gotham to go on a mission with Birds of Prey is a genuine joy. It’s more that… she knows Oracle and she knows Birds; they work well together. Cass is not sure if people who don’t know her are comfortable with how she works.

She thinks that worries Bruce. Well, Barbara thinks it does.

So, Cass is gathering her wits after being knocked off her feet by a metahuman build like a brick house; she thinks maybe, just maybe, Titans missions are not necessarily within her range when a sudden surge in energy somewhere around her almost knocks her off her feet again. She would be annoyed but then there’s a hand on her shoulder and Raven reaches out with her other hand and the metahuman who was about to rearrange her bones flinches away violently.

Raven looks at her, seemingly mindless of whatever visions she sent onto him. Cass is reminded of unclear wild lakes she used to make her home, how the seaweed would grab at her ankles sometimes, dragging her down, and her heart thumps inside her chest once, strongly, on beat and then the energy is gone and Raven with it, disappearing as quickly as she appeared.

Titans missions are not within her range. Cass has never backed down from a challenge, though.

***

Duke has his ribs broken. Cass thinks it’s kind of dumb for metahumans not to have healing powers. She doesn’t think he will appreciate her opinion so she stays quiet; Barbara would call it growth.

She just keeps her arm on his shoulder as he cringes through Raven’s attempt to assess the damage with her hands. “It’s extensive,” she says, and Cass doesn’t worry; Raven’s stoic demeanour doesn’t change with the realisation.

Duke’s breath hitches. He’s about to say something and then his muscles relax and he gasps in surprise. Her brother will be okay, the momentary tension in Raven’s torso tells Cass that.

“Okay, yeah… that’s incredible,” Duke smiles at Raven and Cass squeezes his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Raven stands up, looks up from Duke right at her. It’s a small gesture, a flicker but Cass feels like she needs to stand her ground against it. “It seems pointless to create superhumans and not let them heal themselves, doesn’t it?”

Cass laughs, no point in keeping that in, Raven would feel her surprise and amusement anyway. She laughs and she’s glad she does because Raven seems pleased, but she shies away almost immediately. Cass wonders if Raven blushes on her chest when she’s flustered like Steph does.

“So, she does hate me,” Duke states, his voice is light but Cass sees some hurt in the lines of his mouth.

“She really likes you,” it’s true, there’s some gentleness and newfound fondness in the way Raven pressed her palms against his bruised chest.

Duke accepts her words but his body screams doubt. It’s odd how often her family would rather believe their own versions than trust her expertise.

***

She doesn’t really have a reason to be here. Well, she does – Damian has been staying between the Tower and the Manor more and more lately. Cass would lie if she said she didn’t miss his strained, expressive presence by her side in Gotham. It’s good for him to train with others, Dick said, be with heroes his age. He’s probably right but something in her rears its head to ask if its’ wrong to want her family close. Sometimes Cass can’t ignore that.

She takes a peep from inside the control room over the training hall. One of the younger boys Titans took in (Cass has never been good with names) is talking to Damian, his hands outstretched in an open, teasing manner. Damian frowns but Cass knows him, there’s no malice behind the expression.

“Vic said someone came around,” she turns around and Donna leans in the doorway, smiles at her warmly. Cass hasn’t really had much contact with her but Dick’s features when he talks about his best friend tell her everything, so she smiles back. “You should come down, I’m sure Jamie –“ ah, Cass thinks, Jamie”- would love to watch you two spar.”

Cass nods and Donna leaves. She lingers around, wondering if she should ask but also… maybe patience pays off. She considers it for a moment, shrugs off her sweatshirt and heads out of the room, leaving it draped over the back of a chair.

Cass is sure Bruce would not be happy with her motives. He should be proud of making her a strategist.

***

Cass has her routine.

It comes naturally to her at this point, every step and jump and punch rehearsed and repeated and planned out years in advance. That’s why it works, there’s no room to calculate how to land, how to twist her wrist or tense her muscles to soften the jumps and the kicks. Cass can recreate it and focus on the burn in her muscles and the clicks of her joints.  

Barbara thinks she gets it, the calming effect of repeating known movements. Cass isn’t sure she knows how to explain the pleasure in not just knowing but feeling her body has limits. She’s not sure she understands the push and pull herself.

She lands harder than necessary, sending shockwaves through her legs, when the air crackles with energy and she knows who it is before the figure materialises.

Raven has one of her hands in her coat pocket, the other one holding the sweatshirt Cass left at the Titans tower. She raises her eyebrow in tune with the hand holding the garment. “I thought I would drop this off.”

Cass can put on an act but there is no point, really. Not with most people, definitely not with Raven. “Good,” she shoots her a toothy smile.

Raven smiles back, Cass is sure it’s involuntary because she catches herself; her eyes travel around the cave briefly. Her hair is messy, the shorter pieces of her fringe must be tickling her cheek. Cass wishes she could tell if Raven notices that.

“So,” Raven says, looking back at her; the smile playing at the sides of her mouth looks voluntary this time. “I think you should invite me upstairs.”

***

So, Cass ends up on the couch with her brother’s teammate, their legs tangled together. She unbuttoned Raven’s shirt hastily, the gap in the material is small and uneven but Cass – Cass needed to see her hand against that smooth, pale landscape of skin.

Raven kisses her with purpose, her lips catching Cass’ own in tune with the hard thumping heartbeats in Cass’ chest; she thinks maybe there’s another tune coming from her, one only Raven can feel, one that guides her, one that says this is a good moment to pull away, that this is an even better moment to come back and catch Cass’ bottom lip with her teeth.

It’s a good rhythm, Cass very much likes that rhythm, especially when Raven tangles one of her hands in her messy hair and angles her head just enough to tease her lips with the tip of her tongue and her other hand travels down Cass’ back, her leg realigning between Cass’ own and oh-

-oh, that’s a very good rhythm.

***

Cass opens the door to the manor kitchen with her elbow and almost spills her iced coffee. She kind of hopes no one is around to see it but no such luck.

Bruce sits by the kitchen island, his face unshaved and a Tupperware container in his hand. He seems lost in thought when she walks in but blinks it away and says, “Morning, Cassie.”

“Morning,” she takes the seat across from him.

Bruce watches her carefully. He always watches her carefully. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.” She woke up half an hour ago, but he doesn’t need to know that. Damian didn’t exactly ask her to make a day trip with him to an art gallery opening in Metropolis, but she could see how his body vibrated with pure excitement. As much as he tried to hide his hopes, he couldn’t quite crack it with her. Cass isn’t a secret fan of modern art but she is a secret fan of watching Damian talk about it with barely contained joy and passion.

Bruce probably knows it all anyway. “I’ll ask Alfred to pack you some leftovers.”

Cass is pretty sure that’s Bruce’s way of making amends. He’s probably not even sure what exactly he’s making amends for anymore but the drive is stronger. Cass remembers a brief argument she started at a patrol once, just to rile Damian up jokingly, about how much better honeydew melons were than cantaloupes. She didn’t think Bruce listened to any of their bickering but the next day she opened her fridge to find it filled with pre-cut honeydew melons.

Cass is pretty sure Alfred had nothing to do with it. The fact that she didn’t like raw vitamins bothered him too much to attempt that.

Damian bursts into the kitchen, his coat only halfway on, Ace right behind him. He snaps at her, tells her to hurry up and is out the door almost immediately so Cass gives Bruce a quick hug goodbye and skips outside right behind her brother.

It’s not until she adjusts her rear-view mirror that she notices a pink-purple mark on her collarbone, just above the hem of her shirt.

Well. Healing powers don’t mean anything if you don’t use them.

***

“That’s a lot of fruit,” Raven frowns at her fridge.

Cass is chopping vegetables through onion-induced tears, so she just signs “yeah” and tries to explain Bruce’s fruit-based love language. Raven checks on the stir fry on Cass’ barely used stove, frowning more through the story.

Raven detangled herself from Cass’ arms earlier that evening, declared her eating habits sad, and send her to the store while rummaging through the cupboards to find kitchen utensils. Cass doesn’t mind, really; her diet consists mostly of beef jerky and chicken ramen; she’s pretty sure Raven’s vegan.

“So, you have a fridge full of your father’s love,” Raven teases; her brow smooths and she points her spoon at Cass. “Something about you just makes people want to feed you, I guess.”

Raven put on her oversized men’s flannel and left the buttons undone so Cass can trail down the hollow of her throat, through the valley between the slopes of her breasts, down the line of her stomach to the waistband of the boxers she also stole from Cass.

“I guess,” she repeats.

Turns out cilantro tastes like soap. Cass washes the aftertaste out between Raven’s thighs.

***

Whatever they have going on between them, whatever it is that they settle into at the end of the day - it's unlike any other relationship Cass experienced before.

She's not unfamiliar with friendships. Her and Steph build a camaraderie based on incessant picking each other up and pushing and pulling and laughing and crying for each other and together. Cass knows what it's like to settle into couch cushions with Steph, pretend like neither of them is enjoying the horrible, cheesy movie they put on and mock all the parts that actually pull on their heartstrings. She knows what it's like to fall asleep to a TV playing and wake up with her face pressed into Steph's shoulder

She doesn't know if she can describe what settling on the couch with Raven feels like but it's nothing like that.

They stumbled upon a random channel in Albanian one night; Cass isn't fully sure why she has that one or why Raven speaks Albanian well enough to understand the movie; she chooses not to question some choices. Cass lounged on Raven’s chest lazily, listening to her running commentary, the light from the TV flirting with the darkness behind her closed eyes. She’s pretty sure she could feel Raven’s hand caressing her naked back at some point. Pretty sure.

Cass fell asleep with her face pressed into the rise of Ravens chest and woke up against her cushions, Raven already gone.

Cass knows dating and she knows sex. This isn’t dating, she thinks, and granted – her track record of that might not be the best. There was Kon who just didn’t feel right in the end, and there was Zero who was nice and sweet and that was all he was and there was Brenda who… there was Brenda and they never got a chance.

She knows what’s supposed to be there, though. She knows what Barbara really says when she asks Dick to check in through the comm. She knows what Tim meant when he offered to help Steph with one of her classes. This isn’t dating because neither of them offers and neither of them asks.

This is sex and it's physical and that's odd because nothing about the way Raven moves is physical. It's odd because sex is a conversation, it can be a tense one, full of awkward silences or bitten back comments, it can be a teasing back and forth. Cass knows that better than most, she knows that what is being said is more important than how it's said.

She wants to focus on how Raven says it, though, she wants to focus on how Raven found the sensitive spot on her shoulder immediately, on how she catches Cass' earlobe with her lips and pushes her legs apart just as the wanton wave in her chest starts to rise.

Because the problem is, for the first time, Cass isn't sure what is being said.

That makes her uneasy. But she thinks she would miss it if she were to wake up with her face against the cushions again.

***

The world almost ended; it feels like the world is trying to end itself every other week so there's always work for Cass to do.

She's pretty sure the work caused her internal bleeding, though, and Raven seems to agree. Her hands feel cold and delicate and Cass' head is swirling like Alfred put it through a blender, her chest, her stomach feeling like they caved in after years of unnecessary and unexpected pressure.

The stony weight in her chest dissipates, it tingles away, pins and needles in her stomach and chest until she can breathe again. Cass opens her eyes and three figures hover over her, their concern heavy in the tension of their muscles even through hard panes of their costumes. She swats her hand at Bruce and Duke, she doesn't dare extend the gesture to Raven. Cass rarely can make out clear lines of her body like she can now; Raven is worried and she's holding it back.

She opens her mouth to reassure them, them or her, but Raven tugs the top of her costume down over her stomach, covering the skin that should be bruised and mauled. She lays her hand there momentarily, meeting Cass' eyes and before Cass can take her in, she's up and she's away, checking on someone else's injuries.

Bruce helps her up while Duke blinks in disbelief. He doesn't have to clarify what he means when he says, "You are unbelievable."

Bruce thinks he means the stunt she pulled to get her stomach smashed in and launches into a longish telling-off. Cass lets him. There's only love and concern in his stance.

Bruce checks on her later and tells her to take the pilot seat in the Batplane.

"You know, Cass," Dick pipes up from somewhere behind her and if he comments on her piloting again, she might throw something at him. "It's nice to see you get along with Titans, you could make some good friends there."

"It's true, Cassie," Bruce agrees.

Cass can't turn around to look at Duke, but she can imagine his face. "Unbelievable," he sighs like he's in pain.

Her family really should trust her intuition more. Theirs barely ever works.

***

People in Gotham wind up scared to death and it's not Scarecrow so Cass takes Dick's expertise and goes to the best source she knows. Bruce grumbles about metahumans in Gotham so Dick tells him "you can tell her that yourself" which shuts Bruce up. Cass thinks it's funny because Raven makes her ask for straws in restaurants.

"It looks like Phobia," Raven frowns at the Titans computer with Batman's files displayed. She's not worried or anxious, there's a bit of a weight in her shoulders, some disappointment in the realisation that someone else might not have caught but Cass can see it from where she's perched on the conference table. Raven looks sad and even more so, she looks human and Cass thinks she hasn't thought that about Raven before - not with both of them clothed.

There must be a story there, Cass might not know the details but she thinks she understands the emotions behind it.

"I'm sorry," she doesn't mean it to express her guilt because she has no place in that story. Cass heard it said this way before instead, the way that invites to share the burden or says that you already have and she's not sure why she wants to say it like this but - she does want to. She hopes she knows how, that the words sound correct.

Raven turns around to look at her and Cass knows she understood. She grips the edges of the table hard as Raven's hands slip over her own, opens her legs apart to let her slot herself in that space. Her stomach is tight, wounding itself up in knots and she touches Ravens cheek, her jaw, her lips with her fingertips like she's trying to read her. Maybe she is, because Cass can't figure out what Raven is saying by letting her breath warm up the air between their faces, breaking their eye contact by pressing her cheek against Cass' own like she doesn't actually want to be seen but Raven’s hands move away from her hands and slide up Cass' thighs, underneath the hem of her hoodie dress and Cass thinks oh.

Oh. She offered. She's not sure if Raven asked but she offered and this isn't sex, Cass thinks as Raven's hand slides to her inner thigh and up and through one of the fishnet holes.

This is comfort, this isn't her just offering comfort, this is both of them seeking it out. This is companionship and this is blood rushing to her head even before feeling Raven’s careful, delicate touch and this is her heartbeat seeming uneven and her hand resting on the back of Raven’s head and her other hand grabbing onto Raven’s sweater before the thought of it enters her mind.

Oh, they are really in it now.

***

It's not unfamiliar but it's different. It should make Cass feel more uneasy. It should make her feel uneasy that she can't read Raven well enough to know why she responds, just how she responds.

Some bodies are confusing, she knows that, they move according to whatever inner logic they construct and Cass doesn't always know how they tell themselves these stories and they don't always make sense to her but they are always consistent. They follow the internal storyline and she might not understand the world-building but she gets the plot points.

Ravens storyline feels and looks... fragmented, broken up, like she put together different pieces that lack context, that don't follow the same storytelling rules. She lays next to Cass, her body soft and pliable and then she will doze off and tense in her sleep like she's keeping watch but Cass knows nightmares and she knows Raven doesn't have those. Sometimes Raven whispers into her skin but Cass never understands the language, she's not sure if Raven is even speaking to her because it feels private, it feels like Raven’s confirming something for herself only. They will head out to grab food and Raven will fix her jacket collar, brush her fingers across Cass' face and move away, her body devoid of meaning.

Cass can't understand the narrative but the scenes she catches onto, the lines and settings she grabs onto because it feels impossible to just let them hang there - it carves itself in her bones, it makes her feel like the energy that enters the room with Raven is thrumming through her fingertips, her nerve endings. There's the power and there's Raven; Raven is the power but she's also the delicacy and the phone calls she misses just to search the number and the reality shows that she doesn't like but they still make her laugh and the passionfruit allergy Cass only knows she ignores because she can taste the tartness on her tongue.

She knows the story is there but she can't access it. She's not sure if Raven can or if- or if she just doesn't want Cas to do so.

Cass should be concerned but the pit in her stomach isn't concern. It's worse.

Raven is in Gotham now; she's not so much chasing a hunch but rather following her gut and so Cass decides to follow her own on a different matter.

So, she throws herself into patrolling the west side because she knows Raven and Dick are on the east side. Gotham picked tonight to rest, it's a quiet patrol which is unfortunate as Cass would love to punch her feelings out. She mopes around on a gargoyle, considers calling Oracle and hiding in her holo-room instead but then there's a flash of yellow and Duke lands lightly on his feet in front of her. He looks extremely unimpressed.

"I think Batman likes to brood on the west side gargoyles more. You should try those," he's teasing but she thinks there's some truth to that.

"I'm not brooding," it sounds weak and Cass can't even blame her disability on that.

Duke looks at her sceptically and then really looks at her. Cass wants to grab her grapple gun and swing away from his gaze but he speaks up quicker than she expected him to. "You're actually not. Oh wow. You're really in it now."

Cass loves her brothers more than anything; there's nothing she wouldn’t do to stop any harm coming their way. That doesn't stop her from half-heartedly throwing one of her Batarangs at Duke.

She knew he would dodge it.

***

Cass can't hide from Raven, not really, maybe she doesn't want to. Raven finds her in the Batcave and she doesn't have to say that Gotham is getting to her, this time the tension in her body is clear.

So, she lets Raven whisk them away. The metaphysics of Ravens travel isn't Cass' favorite but she can forgive it. The sand under her naked body feels nice and cool, goosebumps rising along her arms and legs and she stretches out to uncover more skin.

Cass looks to the side and Raven seems lost in thought, her thumb going over the material of the jacket Cass threw over her shoulders. The small bonfire Cass lit to sooth the goosebumps on Raven’s legs illuminates her but doesn't add any warmth. It casts shadows on the few exposed bits of skin; Cass wants to piece together a story from the shapes playing out.

"We just try to change it, but it always seems to bounce back," Raven says, lips glistening in the warm light; Cass doesn't know the world-building, but she catches the plot point.

"Then we do it because it makes sense," Cass says, stumbling over the words only a little, and Raven looks at her, really looks at her, and the goosebumps on Cass' skin have little to do with the breeze and the ocean roars in her ears.

She thinks Raven is piecing together her own story from the shadows behind her words and the pit in her chest tightens but maybe she wants to push through that-

-but then the jacket drops from her shoulders and Raven has sand on her skin and she tastes like Cass.

***

Dick swings on the bars like his joints have no limits on the angles they can take and Cass copies the moves, Steph following suit. She tends to neglect stretching and flexibility part of her training sometimes but her muscles start to burn quickly, reminding her why it's not optional.

Dick lands steadily, takes a look at the clock on the gym wall and grabs the towel Barbara throws at him. "Gotta go. I'm taking Raven to lunch, she can't leave Gotham without trying the vegan Nightwings."

"She doesn't like them," Cass says automatically and chokes on her water when Dick turns to her puzzled.

"So, that's why I barely see you anymore," Barbara teases as Steph laughs hard and Cass puts her hoodie over her head to pretend she's not there.

When she emerges again, Dick looks like he's investigating the case of his lifetime. "I didn't even know Raven was gay."

"She could be bisexual, " Steph throws her arm over Cass' shoulders. "I get it, she has that whole mysterious Victorian ghost shtick going on, like you just want her to hold your face and recite Charlotte Brontë," she stops, freezes a little in her confusion. "Am I bisexual?"

Dick's puzzlement turns into full shock. "Wait, we thought you knew."

"Listen, Cass," says Barbara firmly. Cass has to focus on her words through Steph's rambling right next to her ear, "however you feel, she knows. And she's still here."

Barbara doesn't read people like Cass does but she does know her.

The narrative straightens itself in the tiniest way. Cass thinks that's enough.

***

Maybe Raven is haunted by emotions like Cass is haunted by bodies. Maybe they are both haunted by narratives.

Maybe Raven is haunted by the power the way Cass is haunted by the delicacy.

Maybe it's offering and asking and along the way they both stopped asking.

***

Raven brings Phobia down with her and Duke is there to catch her; he checks Phobia’s pulse and her breathing and Cass let's him, her body is loose and her breathing is shallow but it's steady. It's not her priority and it doesn't have to be.

Raven feels and looks drained and Cass is there to fall with her, cushion her knees when they hit the floor, hold her back steady with her arm. She reaches up to brush Ravens hair off her face; she will tell her later to stop leaving it down when costumed because that's just not safe but maybe Raven's perception isn't affected by such earthly things and so maybe she will ask instead-

-and Raven looks at her as Cass' fingers brush her temple and her chest blooms instead of tightening under Raven's steady eyes, so Cass follows her gut and tilts Raven's head up to meet her lips with her own.

"Guys, not right now," Duke groans behind her.

"You knew?!" Cass isn't sure when Dick found them but she doesn't care, not with how Raven hides her face in the bat on her chest because now Cass knows that Raven does blush on her chest when she's embarrassed.

She hides her own face in Raven's hair and it smells like sandalwood. It smells like Cass' own shampoo.

***

Cass sneaks through the Manor halls with purpose until Bruce steps in her path while leaving his office. He stops so she follows, even though it takes him a moment to come up with words. It's okay, she knows the feeling.

"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," he offers; he looks awkward and embarrassed but his voice sounds steady.

 Cass meets his gaze. "Kon," she says; it's enough to make Bruce cringe with understanding.

He doesn't need to offer apologies, he's been trying to do so for years and now her fridge is full of honeydew melons. They stand there for a moment; Cass can see Bruce is piecing together the shadows. "That girl from Blüdhaven-"

"Brenda," Cass cuts in; the sting is there but it doesn't linger. "I really liked her."

Bruce nods. "Ask if she'd like to stay for dinner. Alfred will make her anyway but it's polite."

Cass smiles and sneaks past him, squeezing his arm briefly.

***

Cass slips inside the guest bedroom Raven took during her stay, closes the door behind her.

Raven is sitting at the foot of the bed, her cape in one of her hands, a sewing needle in the other, mending a hole she must have accidentally ripped at some point last night. Cass is sure Alfred would take care of it if Raven left the cape here but maybe that's too close to asking for her. Or maybe Raven likes to keep parts of her to herself just that much. Cass will be sure to ask later.

She sits next to her, loops her arm around Raven's back to keep herself up while she drops a kiss onto Raven’s shoulder. "Stay for dinner?"

Raven smiles, sets the needle and the cape aside carefully.

***

They are late for dinner, Raven thinks cantaloupes are superior, and Bruce looks like he has a headache.

Dating is nice, Cass thinks.

[kafka-ish]

sleep-over | b.d.

it’s been years since bill denbrough’s been to an actual sleepover. but when someone invites him over for the night, he can’t seem to pass up the opportunity to join them.

word count: 3,313

warnings/included: fluff, fem!reader

request: (from anonymous) “hiii could i please request a bill denbrough fic? you can decide what it’s about but just lots of fluff and something really cute”

a/n: repost bc my tumblr tags didn’t work on the last one and i didn’t realize until now,, also based off of this song 

-

“Do you...do you want to come over?” y/n asked. Those were the first words to spill from her mouth when she dialed Bill’s phone at twelve-o-one a.m. She didn’t have to look out her window to know it was late because of the darkness that engulfed her room, but she also knew she had Bill wrapped around her finger and he’d do anything for her if she asked. 

“Luh-like a ss-sleepover?” Bill’s shoulder was pressing his phone to his ear as he paced back and forth in his room. He looked out his window to see nothing. Just a dark abyss that beckoned for him, the same way y/n did from over the phone. 

“Yeah. Like a sleepover.” y/n thought back to the multiple sleepovers she and he had before when they were younger. 

When dusk ate the day and it got too late, Bill would stay the night at the y/l/n’s house. Her mother would have y/n’s brother keep an eye on the two of them because god knows what would happen if the two were left alone (even at an early age). 

“Loser has to fit five marshmallows in their mouth,” y/n declared as she was setting up Candyland. She already had dibs on the purple gingerbread man so Bill supposed he’d just have to play as yellow. 

“Oh-oh-okay.” A wide smile formed on a young Bill Denbrough’s mouth and his chest moved in sync with the guffaws he was trying to contain. “B-b-but I don’t think your...your mouth is that big.” 

y/n’s grin matched his and Bill had gotten cocky that night because he had found y/n’s gingerbread man crossing the rainbow finish line before his and he could only hold three of the Jumbo Jet-Puffs in his mouth. 

“I’ll b-be ri-right over.” Bill had unintentionally slammed the receiver back on the dial pad. He had never been so fast to pack up in his entire life, but he also didn’t take much; just a fresh pair of boxers, a change of basketball shorts, a t-shirt similar to the one he was wearing, and his toothbrush. It had been forever ago since he and a friend like Stan or Mike spent the night at each other’s houses. It had been a lifetime ago since he spent the night at y/n’s house. 

He walked—no—ran out the door, almost forgetting his shoes in the process (which he slipped on without socks). His duffle bag was light on his arm and threatened to slip off more than once if Bill hadn’t been careful. He made it to y/n’s house in record’s time, but he also lived four blocks away. 

Bill waited outside of y/n’s door. His fingers fought with each other and he noticed that the green porch light was still on. 

“What are you doing?” y/n called down from above. She could freely yell into the earth’s crisp air because the neighborhood was asleep, and she didn’t have to worry about her brother who was sleeping in one of the dorms Duke University provided. 

“I didn’t know if I should knock or not,” Bill answered honestly. He knew y/n was rolling her eyes at his response whether he could see her face clearly or not. He could hear her loud footsteps—rushed and enthusiastic—from inside the house as she trampled down the stairs to let him in.

“Hi!” She looked up at him wide-eyed and bushy-tailed because Bill stood tall and lean while y/n was like a dainty sprig—fragile and still waiting for spring to bloom—at least compared to him.

A smile couldn’t help but draw itself on Bill’s face when she greeted him. She was dressed in a white tank top and cotton sleep shorts and it was in that moment when Bill realized how much she’d grown. How much they’d all grown.

“Are you ready?” y/n eyed him curiously because it’d been seconds since she said anything and Bill had yet to reply. 

“Ye-yeah,” Bill said. He stepped in. “Where?” Gulp. “Where should I puh-puh-put this?” He held up the seemingly empty duffle and y/n took it from him only to toss it aside next to the potted plant that greeted guests as they walked in. 

“We can come back for it later. Now come on.” She was dragging him back outside. “I need an adventure!” She locked the door behind them with her golden house key she had turned into a necklace by feeding a length of black lace through the middle hole. She wore that thing everywhere she went. 

“Ad-adventure?” One of Bill’s untrimmed eyebrows raised and y/n nodded as soon as the word left his mouth. “I th-th-hought this was a s-sl-sleepover.” 

y/n giggled. Her small hand only covered a third of his as she grabbed it and led him from her front lawn and across the street. “Who actually sleeps at a sleepover?” 

That was true. As he recalled, the last time he ‘slept over’ at Richie Tozier’s house, neither of them had actually closed their eyes. 

Bill hadn’t noticed he was now in front and y/n stood a few paces behind him until he felt the warmth of her hand leave his. She was taking the time to light the cigarette she had balanced between her bottom and top lip. Bill chuckled softly at the sight behind him. She was a sight for sore eyes. 

He stepped back to meet her figure whose nimble fingers were concentrating on flicking the purple BIC at hand. 

“Nuh-need help?” Bill took the lighter from her and it came to life with one swift move of his thumb. 

“Yo-you know s-s-s-smoking is... Once you start, you cuh-can’t s-s-s-top.” Bill said this as if her were a father, telling his child about the dangers of drug usage. But he still lit the stick that was poking from y/n’s pouting lips. 

She took a drag from the cigarette. It was long and she coughed afterward because she hated the taste. Bill could tell she wasn’t an experienced smoker and that this had probably been her second pack. “I’m already addicted,” she said. The cigarette muffled her words. But it wasn’t the nicotine she was addicted to. She was addicted to fitting in.

Bill shook his head which he’d inadvertently thrown back while he was consumed in laughter. “You guh-guh-got an-hother one?” He asked and y/n reached in the elastic of her waistband to grab a pack of Mavericks (a gift from Bev). The box was full except for one and she had also stashed a twenty-dollar bill in the gaping space between the tobacco sticks.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” y/n said while tossing him a smoke.

“Fuh-first time for eh-everything.” Bill shrugged and lit the end like a natural. It wasn’t his first time, he just said that to make y/n feel better. 

The two walked in comfortable silence. y/n was still trailing behind, but only to admire Bill’s frame under the white moonlight—not to enjoy her barely smoked cigarette because maybe she wanted pink lungs until she was old and wrinkled and had to have be waited on hand and foot at the nursing home.

It took them ten minutes to arrive at a worn-down gas station and it would’ve taken them five if y/n wasn’t lollygagging or if Bill didn’t stop to point at the stars every three seconds.

“Lo-ook at that one!” He’d say with the innocence of a child. His sneakers would make a scraping sound against the abandoned road when he came to a halt and y/n would bump into his shoulder because she never looked where she was going.

“It kind of looks like the mole on the back of your-“ Bill nudged her, causing her to wobble and drop the Maverick. It was one with nature now. Good riddance.

Bill put out his own half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray that sat on top of the garbage can next to the glass doors of the QwikTrip.

It was bright inside. Too bright. The empty gas station felt completely different from when they were slumming it in the outside and dancing to the sound of crickets chirping.

But y/n didn’t notice. She was too busy in her own world, mixing together a cherry and coke flavored slushie to make cherry coke. She watched in childlike wonder at the contents inside the slushie machine that whirled ‘round and ‘round so the ice could mix thoroughly with the syrup (a slushie with an imperfect ice-to-syrup ratio was not a slushie; it was just flavored ice). She didn’t notice the guy working the cash register who was obviously checking her out.

But Bill did.

An odd feeling struck at his heart which was now beating faster as he watched the greasy boy about their age eye his childhood friend.

“H-have you ever dr-dr-“ Bill paused. “Had alcohol?” Bill wondered aloud. y/n had just finished preparing Bill’s slushie for him—plain banana—so her attention could now focus on just him. Internally, Bill was banging his head against the wall for asking such a stupid question. But that’s what y/n made him in recent developments: stupid.

Every teenager drinks he thought to himself. But y/n wasn’t like every teenager. 

“No.” y/n shook her head and Bill found his eyes roaming to the liquor case in the back of the store. 

They both knew what each other meant and Bill just about dashed to the fridge the same way he dashed out his door when y/n called him that night. 

y/n was waiting for him at the paying counter. She took small sips at her cherry coke slushie but luckily Bill didn’t take too long. He came back, holding a clear bottle of liquid that y/n didn’t know the name of. He set the glass on the counter and reached in his pocket only for his heart to fall twelve meters into its grave because he left his wallet at home.

“Don’t worry about it,” y/n reassured. Her hand settled on his momentarily. “I’ll get it. Just wait outside.”

So he did. But waiting outside nearly killed him.

“These please.” y/n gave the stranger her biggest smile, teeth and all, as she pushed the bottle of gin and two slushie cups across the counter for him to scan.

“Was that your boyfriend?” The cashier asked. His face could be mistaken for a pepperoni pizza and his blonde hair was uncombed. The graveyard shift really does some things to people.

“No...” y/n blushed and the stranger thought it was because she found him attractive. It was actually the idea that other people thought of Bill and her as a couple that caused y/n’s cheeks to tint. y/n looked up at the boy through her long lashes and it should be counted as a crime to not know the effect you have on the people around you.

A sly smile reached all the way to the boy’s eyes. “You know what? It’s on me.” He printed out her receipt. There were just three items marked as $0.00. The only numbers that added up to something were the ones on the bottom which he said was his phone number. “Call me.” He winked.

Bill felt like he was being stabbed all from watching the two flirt and before another invisible knife could make another incision in his already delicate heart, y/n was out the door. Two diabetes-filled cups occupied both hands while a plastic bag hung from her arm.

“Hi!” She said this in the same way she greeted him.

Bill covered his mouth when he coughed before sputtering out a hi.

She sat down on the curb outside of the gas station, her legs crossed like a pretzel. She sat both cups down, taking a sip from both straws. Her tropical-flavored chapstick tainted his red straw and Bill would taste pineapple mixed with banana later when he took a sip.

y/n’s mouth tingled at the taste of banana slushie. Who the hell gets a banana slushie? She supposed she’d never get used to the taste, but it was worth a try.

Bill took a seat on the rough pavement next to her. He knew his ass would hurt once he got up, especially if they would sit like this for a while, but he didn’t care.

“D-d-do you want… muh-muh-maybe wuh-want to g-g-go somewhere no… nobody will see?” Bill asked tentatively.

y/n smiled with the plastic still between her teeth. It was a more pleasant feeling than rolled-up tobacco. “Who would even see us here?”

Bill laughed but he thought back to how the cashier was eyeing her while she fixed her slushie. It wasn’t the same way he’d look at her. It was slimy and gross. But that was behind them now as he slipped an arm around her and held her close.

His shirt was old and worn, but it felt soft and homey against the skin of her cheek. She nuzzled close into his chest, feeling his ribcage and smelling the Old Spice that lingered from when he applied it earlier in the afternoon.

She hadn’t been this close since their last sleepover.

They were thirteen and y/n had originally invited him over to watch High Society on the new television set her parents bought and finally got around to setting up in the den. She promised she wouldn’t get jealous if he stared at Grace Kelly because he’d tell her the same about Gregory Peck. But Bill didn’t get the chance to stare because the ribbon was detached from the VHS, ruining their whole plans.

Bill wouldn’t have stared anyway—not when there was someone worth staring at who sat on the couch next to him.

“I’m so sorry.” It must’ve been the tenth time she apologized but Bill only waved his hand like how he wished he could wave the rest of her worries away. “I didn’t know it was all screwy... It’s been years since I’ve actually put the damn thing in.”

“Don-don’t-t worry ab-b-bout it,” Bill said. He glanced up at the clock on the mantle. It was getting late and the beginning of a sunset could now be seen from outside the living room window.

“You should be getting home.” y/n was looking at the clock with him. Bill shook his head.

“Ih-it’s ff-fine.” He shoved a handful of popcorn that y/n popped herself in his mouth. “Do-do you h-h-have an eh-eh-extra toothbrush? O-o-or I cuh-cuh-could leave early.”

y/n knew what he was referring to and a smile graced her already angelic lips. She was getting excited just at the thought of having a companion by her side during the witching hour. y/n jumped to her feet and skipped over to Bill on her bare feet. “What will you sleep in?... I could offer you my nightgown!” She laughed at the image in her head which projected a picture of a scrawny Bill Denbrough wearing one of y/n’s frilly nightdresses even she didn’t wear anymore.

“I cuh-cuh-can ju-just sleep in th-th-this.” He shrugged and y/n could only think that boys were strange.

By the time both of them had brushed their teeth, Bill was already tuckered out. Maybe it was from watching y/n mess with the VHS player for so long. Or maybe it was from running over to y/n’s house when she had excitedly announced her parents set up a new television set and she wanted him to be the first one over to experience it and his legs were still tired from carrying him.

“Do you want to watch a different movie? I’d hate to invite you over just to not do anything.” y/n picked at her fingernails, too afraid to meet Bill’s eye because she was scared he hated her.

Bill could never hate her.

“Nah.” Bill spread out on her double bed that she had made prior. He sunk into the plush covers and felt himself doze off until y/n hit him with a pillow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She was hovering over him, scared that she’d fall and break her neck if she lost balance.

“Sl-sleeping.” Bill closed his eyes once more. “I’m kuh-kuh-kinda t-t-tired.”

“Move over.” y/n wasn’t tired, but she’d do whatever Bill wanted. She laid down next to him and there couldn’t possibly be enough room on the bed for both of them—at least with the way Bill was spread out.

She snuggled close to him, able to smell the toothpaste he used and the natural smell of vanilla that clung to his skin.

But right now, Bill didn’t want the night to end as they sat three years older and in an empty parking lot. If BIll had one wish, he’d wish this night would last forever. Just him and her and the space surrounding them.

y/n’s eyelids felt heavy and her legs felt gelatin-like. She fell into a dreamlike trance while Bill’s arm acted as a blanket around her, but she didn’t want the night to end like this.

“Ar-are you t-t-tired?” Bill asked. y/n could feel his arm remove itself from her and she visibly shivered.

“No,” she lied but he knew better than that.

“I’ll wuh-wuh-walk you h-home.”

Their trek back to y/n’s house was slower than it was when they left it. y/n didn’t mind. She basked in the presence of Bill’s calming aura and Bill felt the same. Both of them, however, were too afraid to tell each other that.

y/n could barely keep herself stood upright on her own. Bill had to stabilize her with his left hand. His right hand was gently figuring out a way to remove the key necklace that hung from her neck.

“That tickles!” y/n giggled loudly when the icy tips of his fingers brushed her sensitive skin.

“Shh,” Bill whisper shouted. “Th-there are puh-puh-people sleeping.” He looked at the time on his digital watch. Not for long, anyway.

“Shh,” y/n echoed back to him. 

The front door creaked open. Bill cringed and hoped it wouldn’t wake her parents, but y/n told him it shouldn’t matter because they were heavy sleepers. He trusted her.

When both of them stepped in, y/n was the one to shut the door just like she had when they left. Afterward, they tip-toed up the stairs. Bill clutched his duffle bag and y/n still had the plastic one which contained the alcohol.

“Fuck...” y/n giggled at the curse word that left her lips. “Marry, or kill.”

“What’re m-my options?” Bill slurred. He was too scared to look up at her, so he looked at the dark ceiling. He was sprawled out on her bed—taking up most of the room—like he did when they were thirteen.

“Me, Beverly, and...” y/n sighed. She forgot the name of the girl who sat in front of her in math class. “Henrietta Simons.”

“Huh-who’s Henrietta?” Bill asked, but he already knew his answer.

“Someone you should kill.” y/n shrugged and stared at the ceiling with him, trying to find out what was so interesting about it.

“Kuh-kill Henrietta,” Bill said, and a proud smile found its way on y/n’s lips. “Fuck-ck Bev, an-” He didn’t really have to finish after that.

“You wouldn’t have sex with me?” y/n asked. She was only teasing but Bill knew she wouldn't have said that if she was sober.

“It-it’s not luh-luh-like th-that.” Bill took a deep breath and he didn’t know if this was the night he wanted to be saying all of this but that’s what everything felt like it was leading up to. “I guh-guess I ju-just want t-to marry you.” Bill closed his eyes at the drunken words that thought would be okay to leave his mouth.

“I wanna marry you too,” y/n said through a series of hiccups and a fit of laughter.

They both knew what was coming next. And even though neither of them didn’t want the night to end, it had to.

[dibs4ever]

Death of Dick Grayson

The entire “Batfamily” aside fromBarbara sat and stood around a circle in the cave.

All of them glum

Stephanie was sobbing into Tim’s chest

Jason clenched his fists

Cassandra and Duke looked down at the ground.

Alfred was taking deep breaths attempting to control his emotions

Damian was looking up, his eyes closed tightly, grinding his teeth fighting the urge to show emotion

Bruce looked forward emotionlessly, not looking at anyone

“Oh God, what about Barbara. Who’s going to tell her?” Stephanie sniffed as realization struck her

Everyone looked at Bruce who still refused to meet their eyes

“I will” Jason spoke standing up

Bruce shook his head “I need to”

Jason held up a hand “I will tell her Bruce, who better to break the news than someone who has been dead before. Maybe it’ll give her hope”

“The last thing Gordon needs is false hope” Damian grumbled

Jason’s head whipped in Damian’s direction “It’s better than nothing”

“It’s worse than acceptance that Grayson is gone! The fact that grandfather brought you back was an extreme rarity, besides you know he can’t do it again. Grayson is dead. “

“I wish it was possible.” Tim sighed

Jason swallowed “Look, you don’t think I know that if given the chance of a miracle like mine happening and one of us coming back to life all of you would choose Dick over me? “

Bruce shook his head “Jason that’s not true”

“Don’t lie right now, Bruce!” Jason held up a finger “I would gladly die again if it meant bringing Dick back. He makes our lives just a little brighter. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He began exiting

“Master Jason where are you going?” Alfred spoke softly the sadness evident in his voice

Jason inhaled a breath wanting to speak softly to the kind-hearted butler

“To crush my brother's girls heart.”

“Jason? Barbara asked confused as she opened the door to her apartment letting him in

”Hey BG” he spoke

she continued to look at him ”Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be on that big secret mission with Batman and Nightwing?”

Jason inhaled a breath “Mission is over”

She tilted her head if the mission was over Dick would’ve called her as soon as he got back

“We had an emergency and called it off” he continued

She sat down “Is everyone okay?”

Jason was silent

Barbara stood placing her hands on his shoulders “Jason where are Bruce and Dick?”

He let out a breath “Bruce is home with Dick.”

She knew something was being left out and stared him down

“Dick is dead Barbara,” Jason said sternly

She shook her head “Don’t joke like that.” She went to grab her phone but Jason stopped her ”I'm serious Barbara. I saw it happen. He went into the building and it blew up!”

She shrugged “He could still be alive . Why aren’t we searching!” She went to her room to retrieve what he presumed was going to be her batgirl suit but he stepped in front of her. “His body is at the cave....I’m sorry.”

She shook her head “I-I Dont believe you.”

Jason bit his lip “Look I can bring you there if you want to see for yourself.” He knew he probably sounded like an ass but she needed to accept this

30 minutes later Jason came into the cave , the family looking shocked as Barbara rushed in toward the medical bed

“Dick” she touched his chest gently for a moment, then moved her hand to his wrist

“Dick?” Her concern rising, her hand moved to his neck and then his foot “Why isn’t he hooked up to anything?” She stuttered “And why does he just have a sheet and his boxer briefs on?” She continued

Bruce shook his head “Barbara he’s gone.”

Barbara shook her head “No he’s not! “ she rose her voice slightly

“Alfred could you brew some of the hibiscus tea? You know how Dick likes a nice cool fresh glass of that after a bad night.”

“Barb-“ Tim began

Barbara held up her hand “Do not tell me he’s dead. He isn’t dead. “

They were silent, nobody moving

But Bruce knew he needed to get Dick’s body out within an hour before the injection wore off

“Barbara I need to get his body to a morgue” Bruce took a step

“No-he-hes gonna-. “ she continued pressing pressure points, pulse point and feeling for breathing . “He’s going to wake up, he’s-he’s just passed out.” She ran her fingers through his hair. Taking notice of the family staring at her she turned back to Dick “Dick? Come on wake up.” She jostled his body “No!! You aren’t gone!” Tears started streaming down her face as realization took over. She shook him more aggressively “You can’t be dead!” She screamed as she crawled into the small space on the bed. Lying her head on his bare chest, hoping to hear some sort of heart beat “Baby? Please wake up. Don’t leave me. I-I can’t live without you.”

Bruce couldn’t handle it anymore “Alright thats enough”

She shook her head, worming her body up so she could nuzzle his neck and inhale his sent “Please Dick, nobody will ever understand me like you. Wake up.” She turned her face planting a tender kiss to his cheek

“Just give her a minute!” Stephanie barked

Bruce sighed , thanking his stars that the injection was strong enough that Dick wouldn’t know how Barbara reacted to his death

She slid off the bed, Jason jumping to her side. He slid on the ground pulling her to his chest

“He’s gone.” She sobbed

Barbara began hiccuping “Dick....my my my Dick. My sweetheart.” She gasped for air. Crying harder then any of them had seen someone sob.

Bruce took this opportunity to wheel Dick out

He zoned out the sounds of Barbara’s wails, the rest of the family gathering around her to give comfort.

2 weeks later

Dinah had picked the lock to Barbara Gordon’s apartment and was creeping her way through the kitchen . The door creaked as she opened it, silently she cursed under her breath.

“Why are you hear Di” Barbara mumbled into the pillow

Dinah walked into the dark bedroom, “Because it’s 1 in the afternoon, you’re still in bed. It’s pitch black in here” she flung the blinds open letting in sunlight

Barbara groaned pulling the blanket over her head, rolling so her back was to Dinah

Dinah crawled into the other side of Barbara’s bed “And nobody has heard from you in 2 weeks.” She said swiftly as she rested a hand on Barbara’s shoulder

Barbara rolled on her back and pulled the blanket down to look at her friend “I’ve been out”

Dinah nodded “Yeah on patrol as Bargirl and that’s it. And from what I’ve heard about that work you haven’t exactly been at the top of your game. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Barbara looked down

“Sorry, probably bad choice of words but you know what I’m saying.”

Barbara shook her head “Whats the point Dinah. Dick....without him I feel like I lost a piece of me. He’s gone now and I will never get the piece back and be whole again.”

Dinah lied down pulling her friend to her side “Why don’t I fix you something to eat?”

Barbara shook her head “I can’t, every time I eat I get nauseous, plus I’m just really sleepy and moody which makes me even more not in the mood to eat.”

Dinah looked at her “Why don’t you go see Leslie about this!”

Barbara shook her head “It’s just sadness. Nothing she can do to help”

Dinah nodded “Yes there is BG, there is no shame in medication for depression. Plus what if it’s something else...‘what if you’re sick or worse what if it’s a serious illness “

Barbara shook her head “Fine I’ll go tomorrow. Hopefully she has something before noon. I’m supposed to meet Wally for lunch.”

Dinah smiled feeling victorious, hoping Leslie could help her friend feel better

Should I make a part 2?

[daydreams-and-shortattentionspan]

Broken Clocks Part 2

A/N: I had to make this into two parts otherwise this was finna be STOOPID long. Anywho, I’m kinda proud of how I wrote this one, dialogue is usually my kryptonite but this time it was weirdly easy lol. Again, thank you @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for your unintentional motivation. And I hope y’all enjoy it! Also happy birthday to the white man in this story sksksksks

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Black!Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2.1k

Part 1

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‘Oh Lord, it is Him,’ you thought to yourself, mental voice dripping with dread and disgust, your sense of calm dissipating into the quiet atmosphere of the subway car. You quickly turned around and hoped he hadn’t noticed you, but cruel fate decided to take the opportunity to ruin your plan; instead, you had bumped into a man who had been walking towards the door as the train was approaching his stop; this caused your purse to fall and letting your wallet to come out and makeup bag to slide across the train floor and in turn hit the foot of the one person you were trying to avoid, Jermaine, your lousy ex-boyfriend of four years.

“Wait a minute, I know this bag,” you had heard him mumble from the other side of the vicinity. You had seen that he had picked it up from your peripheral vision and began looking for the owner.

‘Oh fuck me,’ you winced as you went to pick up your wallet that luckily had landed a mere few inches away from you, but you knew fate wasn’t feeling exactly kind at this particular point in time.

Now came the moment you had wished never been a slight possibility, talking to this no-good ass hat. You turned in his direction and mentally began to hype yourself up for an inevitably awkward situation.

‘Girl you got this, he ain’t shit and you KNOW he ain’t shit, your stop is coming up, just grab your shit and get thee fuck outta there ASAP,’ you prepped yourself, a constant loop of ‘You got this’ playing in your head.

“(Y/N),” Jermery started,“you look good,” a firm grip still on your belongings, as if trying to hold you hostage.

“Thanks…” you replied, awkwardness coating every letter of the word, you grabbed one of your arms to try to gain a sense of ease and comfort as you swayed looking everywhere except in his general direction. You knew you would have to face him at some point but you truly wish now wasn’t the time. There was no point in beating around the bush, you truly had to get this over with, so you grasped every last bit of confidence and assertiveness and did what needed to be done; you didn’t have to worry about his feelings anymore, you didn’t have to fear him anymore, you had to remember you were That Bitch and He was missing out on being with You and you would never get that twisted. You had Captain fucking America’s phone number in you phone at this very moment for Christ’s Sake!

You looked him directly in the eye, and stated simply, “I’d like my makeup bag please,” while reaching out your hand for your things. This sense of fire behind your being that let off a blaze of confidence and self-worth that left him blown away. This wasn’t the (Y/N) he knew and left in the dust, but he sure did want to waste her time once again.

He tried to turn his sex appeal and swagger on, he was confident this would work on you; and to be completely and utterly honest, any other time it most definitely would have. But today he would be sorely mistaken.

“So,” he started, biting his lip and looking you up and down; light skin antics on one thousand,“ how ya been?” Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me? You know this man does not care about me.

“Fine,” you stated dryly.

“That’s cool, that’s cool… How ya momma and them?”

“Fine,” still dry.

“You know ma dukes still asks about you after all this time?” This man wants to bring up his mother? Really?

“Well, did you tell Miss Shirlene why I haven’t come around in three years? Or did you manage to skip past that detail like you used to skip over telling other women you were in a relationship?” you retorted, you obviously knew the answer. Your stop was so close you could almost touch it, no time to lose; you snatched your make-up bag from his grasp and shoved it back into your purse.

“Nah, c’mon don’t be like that mamas, you know you still miss me,” he said while using his now empty hand to grab yours and used his thumb to trace little circles on the back of it. You had snatched your hand back from his grasp.

“Ohhh yeeaaahhh, because I missed the 1-minute fuck sessions, and the skid mark boxers always lying in the middle of the living room!” With every word, your ex partner grew smaller and smaller, confidence chipping away with every syllable, “And always having your rowdy ass home boys who didn’t have respect for my apartment ever,” The patrons of the subway car now all ears and reacting with the hissing sound of second-hand embarrassment or a ‘damn’ under their breath.

“Or all those girls coming to me as a woman talking about they deal with your sorry ass. And ALWAYS paying the bill when we went out to eat because you conveniently left your wallet -which NEVER had money it- at the house, and let’s not forget how I missed your loud ass snoring that kept me up all hours of the night.” By the time you were done dragging this man’s name through the mud with all the sadly true testimonies of your relationship, the train had stopped at your destination and the doors opened. You made your way to the exit of the train, you just needed one last step and you were home free, but you stopped before turning around telling him one last thing.

“So, no Jermaine, I absolutely do NOT miss your ain’t shit ass. Now leave me the hell alone before I go to Raven as a women and tell her that you up to your ain’t shit ways again. Bet you didn’t know I know about her, huh?” And with that, the doors hissed closed but you could clearly hear the sound of the entire car screech from your victory as it rolled away.

Walking with a fresh sense of worth, you realized in your moment of triumph, where you needed to be in a matter of minutes.

“Oh shit!” You scream before making a mad dash for your final destination.

Luckily the station was only a block away from the club, you just needed to walk fast and pray all the crosswalks were ready for you before you even approached them and you’d make it in time. A skill you had managed to acquire over the years was ducking and dodging through crowds with absolute ease.

You had managed to make it when a huge crowd began to enter the club allowing you to slip into the club with absolute stealth. You made your way to the back, similar to before you greeted coworkers over the loud music but this time you avoided your boss at all costs by hiding behind customers. You had made it to your locker and began to throw in your belongings into it and undress into your new outfit and heels. You plugged your phone into the community charger, knowing it would be safe back there, seeing as you were on good terms with everyone and they always looked out for you.

You sat in a chair in front of the vanity and took a good look at yourself, exhaustion written all over your face as you added on to the makeup you were already wearing. The other girls squealing in excitement about the big celebrity that would be in The Champagne Room tonight and how they were trying to weasel their way into performing in there; you had slowly began to zone out before hearing who it was that was causing the big fuss this evening, you didn’t want anymore excitement tonight, you just wanted to dance to a couple songs, get as much money as possible and get your ass back into your bed.

“Drink this, you look terrible,” Maria, the house mother, jokingly said with a smile; snapping you back to reality handing you a cup of coffee just the way you like it.

“Thanks Mari,” you took it graciously, blowing it before taking a sip.

“Of course, mi querida,” she replied before kissing the top of your head. This was exactly what you needed to get through the night.

“Also, Johnny wanted me to tell you: you, Diamond and Star are working The Champagne Room tonight,” she whispered as to not start another round of chaos in the dressing. You simply shook your head grateful that the two you were closest to would be right by your side the entire time.

‘Please have a lot of money,’ you silently prayed to yourself before taking another swig of your coffee and getting up to make this money.

~

You had entered The Room, mind on another planet to not realize who the group that was causing all the buzz backstage. Once again, it was Steve, Sam, and Bucky. You always seemed to run on autopilot when it came to dancing, doing flips and tricks but not really being there mentally. This was your way of getting through your shift without hating every minute of it.

Steve was in awe at how flawlessly you could move up and around that pole. You were so graceful but also so sensual. He didn’t recognize you at first, due to the change in makeup and different clothes (or lack thereof) and he had the strong urge to look away from your lack of clothing but he just couldn’t because he knew who this amazingly talented woman was; it was You: the waitress from the diner. Sure the other two girls were just as talented -Sam and Bucky seemed to think so, with the way they cheered at everything they did- ,but they could not compare when it came to your beauty. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

You had just finished your third song and you were grabbing your tips from the three men, not making eye contact with Sam or Bucky; but once you had made contact with Steve, you had felt the familiar sense of electricity from earlier coursed through your body. This feeling zapped you from your daydream, you looked at the hand that was handing money to you and then you realized who it was: Your Captain.

“Oh it’s You” you said with a sincere smile that lit up your entire face, the shyness had taken, over given the surroundings in which you had bumped into each other and he tried to find the right words to say.

“Well what are the odds,” he said, a timid smile in place. You giggled at his response.

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? You really shouldn’t be working in a place like this,” Steve said softly.

Before you could respond, you could hear Sam let out an exasperated sigh while throwing his head back. He could just sense Steve’s ‘You shouldn’t have to do this’ speech coming at any moment because he did this the last time he had gone out with America’s beloved Super Soldier.

“Now don’t you start with this again. Just because you Captain America don’t make you Captain Save-a-Hoe,” he had said in a somewhat joking manner.

“Now who in the hell you callin a hoe, bird brain?” you snapped back, hands on your hips; ready to pop off if need be. Bucky quietly chuckled to himself saying, “I like this girl,” before taking a swig of his beer and sitting back to watch the argument that was bound to unfold in front of him; Diamond and Star equally entertained and taking seats next to the metal-armed man.

“Well if the platform heel fits,” he had clapped back as he stood to get closer to you.

“I work here, so I GOTTA be here, you came here by CHOICE Mister Parakeet. So what’s that say about you?,” you returned as you had a finger in his face to emphasize your point.

This caused a back and forth repetition of ‘Girl get your finger outta my face’ from him and ‘Or what?’ from you.

“Enough!” Steve shouted over the commotion. That was what rendered the Falcon speechless along with yourself and everyone else in the room. Bucky still giggling to himself about the ‘parakeet’ insult, he’d have to remember that one.

‘Now both of you, apologize.” The Captain had ordered. You and Sam both mumbling half-assed ‘sorry’s to one another, arms crossed and pouting like school children.

After the argument was over, you and the girls decided to talk with the men instead of dancing seeing as the crazy events that ensued made you all comfortable with one another. Sam was actually cool and you two ended up being the cause of most of the laughs in the group. Steve and you had grown closer as the evening went on.

“Would you wanna go out tomorrow?” he had asked suddenly, you raised your eyebrows at the question. Diamond and Star were behind Steve trying to convince you to say yes in their own silly ways. Without any hesitation, you looked him right in the eyes and said, “I’d love to.”

“How about dinner at 8?”

“Sounds perfect,” your smile growing.

“I’ll make sure to call you before, to make sure you’re ready on time. For some reason you can’t avoid a broken clock.”

___________________________________

Taglist: @oceanscorazon​ @snazzyjazzy6​ @illbethethundertoyourlightning​ @petlaufeyson​ 

[esbarnes]

Distance

Part 10

Being apart of a family, even a haphazard one can be complicated. This family was being pulled apart at the seems and I wasn’t sure that I would be strong enough to keep it together. Something told me that this was just the beginning and that I would have to give up more before this was done. I just hoped it wouldn’t be them or him.

Eilene’s pov

I was walking into the front door of the den when I saw Hamish barreling down the stairs and Randall coming out from the kitchen. “What happened. Are you ok?” They each said at the same time. Hamish came to stand right in front of me as I put my hand on his chest to reassure him I was fine. “I’m ok, I just got a little tied up is all.” He gave me a quick once over and then said “What happened?” I was about to explain when Hamish’s hand gripped my wrist and I hissed. With that his eyes got big and he immediately pushed the sleeve of my jacket away and said “A little tied up?” Randall moved forward while saying “Hey let me take a look.” This was a mistake, as Hamish snapped his head toward Randall with a snarl and Tundra moving to his eyes. I stepped closer to him while extending my other out to Randall to stop him. “Hamish, look at me, hey it’s ok. I’m ok and he’s just trying to help.” It took a moment and then finally looked down at me. He calmed a bit. Still holding his gaze I spoke to Randall. Randall, please get the first aid kit and start some tea.” Randall left the room and I leaned more into Hamish. He brought his arms securely around me and said “What happened and who tied you up?” 

Hamish’s POV

I took in everything Eilene was saying but it was also taking everything within me to not take her upstairs, lock us in my room and keep her in our bed. Tundra fully agreed. She explained what happened and we went over everything that happened with the Promethean’s and about Praxis. I was standing across the Island from her so that I could check her for more injuries. Randall finished cleaning up her wrist and wrapped them. It may take a few hours for them to heal and she would be ok, but it didn’t change the fact that someone had hurt her in the first place. I noticed that she had finished her tea and started rubbing her neck. “Alright, I think we have all had a long day and should get some rest.” Randall seemed to read the room for once and just said “Good night kids, don’t stay up too late.” and left. I came over to stand in front of Eilene and ran my hand up to her shoulder. “Come on let’s get you to bed.” 

Then I leaned down, brushed my lips against hers and rested my forehead against hers. “I’d like nothing more.” she said. I took her hand in mind and we went upstairs. She decided to jump in the shower and I thought about joining her but decided to give her some space. When she came out she was drying her hair with a towel. “I don’t think Foley is the real leader of Praxis and we should try to find Salvador” by now she was within arms reach in nothing but my t-shirt and some underwear. It was easy to reach out and bring her to stand in between my knees. I took the liberty to run my hands along her legs, over her butt and to her sides while she finished drying her hair. “I’m serious, there’s more to this then whats on the surface.” She said as she tossed the towel and then brought her hand to my shoulders. “I agree with you, but before we dive into that pool I would very much like to check your wrists.” I said looking up at her. She huffed and said “as you wish.” I smiled at the reference and unwrapped the gauze on her wrists. Her right was completely healed and on the left there was just a faint scar. I brought it to my lips and kissed it. “All better.” I said again looking up to her. 

Eilene’s pov 

Hamish and I seemed to fall back into our old routines. With the exception of him being ready to take off someone’s head every now and again. I brought my hands up to the back of his neck and started to rub my fingers through his hair. “Thank you.” I said and I kissed him. Softly at first but he reacted quickly and his grip tightened around me. We stayed like that for a while just kissing with his arms practically locked around me. He pulled back just an inch and breathed out “I don’t like you getting hurt or being in harms way.” at first his eyes were closed and then opened them to meet mine. I brought my hands to frame his face and said “I am also a werewolf Hamish remember, long the road and short the life.” At that last bit his hands gripped my sides. “It doesn't mean I don’t like it any less.” He said. I just looked at him for a moment. How could he do this, how could the man that I cared so much about, one who didn’t fully remember who I was still send what felt like shock waves through me? “I know” I whispered. “Now shut up and kiss me.” He smiled at that and said “As you wish.” Then brought his lip to mine. 

I felt his hands travel underneath my shirt and up along my back. Once he had the shirt off, he threw it behind him and pulled my into lap with each of my legs on his sides and then his lips moved to my neck as he trailed kisses down to my collar bone. He was being slow and precise while his hands roamed from by back to grip my butt. Our breathing had gotten heavy but when he slightly bit down on my neck I couldn’t help but moan. When he heard it his eye snapped up to mine and he said “I want to hear that again.” He kissed me on my lips, this time deeper and then he went to the other side of my neck to repeat the same slow torture. He was rewarded with another moan. I trailed my hands down his chest reaching for his shirt as I pulled it up and over his head. I kissed him and then said with a smile “You have me at a disadvantage Mr. Duke, you’re wearing more clothes than me.” He stood up with me in his arms and walked us over to his desk which he laid me down on. Then he quickly took off everything but his boxers. “Your turn.” He breathed out before kissing me again. This time his hands went to unclasp my bra and then toss it over his shoulder. He went back to kissing my neck but this time kept going past my collar bone. He teased each breast and nipple with his tongue and teeth. I couldn’t help but huff out and bite my lip in an effort to hold back more moaning. 

Hamish’s pov 

I could tell Eilene was trying to hold back. Maybe she was trying torture me with it because she knew what hearing her did to me or maybe she was trying to keep apart of herself separate because of our situation. In any case I wanted her to open up to me, I wanted to hear every sound I could make fall from her lips and I wanted it all to myself. Something about being with her was different, more heightened. Maybe it was a werewolf thing or maybe it was just how were were with each other. I couldn’t focus on any of that now, just her, only her. I wrapped one hand around the back of her neck to kiss her lips again and when I did I caught her bottom lip with my teeth. She hissed at that and kissed me back. Having her sitting up on my desk made this easier. I trailed my other hand down the curves of her side. “I want to savor every moment of you.” I said as I slipped that hand into the front of her underwear. I let out my own sigh when I felt how wet she was and then kissed her hard. As I rubbed her along her folds and up to her clit her breath hitched, but she still hadn’t moaned for me again. I let out a low growl and then went to attack her neck again with kisses. I had to hear her again no matter what. I began to rub her clit in circles and with the slightest more pressure and then there it was “Hamish” she whispered. “It’s time for these to go.” I said and I pulled my hand away to take her underwear off.

But before I could put my hands back on her, I felt her hand on the bulge in my boxers. “Not so fast.” she said and kissed me as she kept rubbing me. I groaned and then placed my hands flat on the desk framing her hips. I could tell she wanted to draw this out and enjoy it as much as I did. She ran her free hand up my bare chest and to my cheek as she kissed me and then started trailing to my neck. All the while still stroking me through my boxers. My hips moved forward into her hand and my breathing got heavy. She was beating me at my own game. I moaned into her mouth as she kissed me again. My hands ticked, I wanted to touch her to make her moan again. I picked her up to her surprise and then laid her back down on the bed. I got rid of my boxers and then trailed kisses up her body and back to her lips. Her legs spread for me and wrapped themselves around me.  

I was kissing her deeply as I pushed inside her slowly. I stayed there for a moment and then moved in and out as slow as I could. This got her breathing deeply in between kisses but not moaning yet. I decided it was time to kick this up a notch. I began to move my hip only slightly faster but more deeply while I kissed her neck and cupped her breast. And there it was, she moaned as she arched up toward me. I wanted to live in those sounds. Before I could think any more on it she rolled us so she could straddled me. I couldn’t bear to not feel her skin against mine so I sat up to pull her in. This was an even better angle that allowed me to grip be butt and still set the pace. At this point we were both a tangle of limbs and moans. I started pulling her in faster and her head fell back exposing her neck to me. I locked my lips to her pulse point and soon enough my name was on her lips “Hamish....I” she huffed and then I moved faster and finally “Hamish!” 

Afterwards we just laid in bed. I was on my back with Eilene curled into my chest. She was already asleep and breathing evenly when I finally closed my eyes. I thought I would be too exhausted to dream, but I was wrong. It seemed like just a replay of memories. I was on the phone with Eilene filing her in on Jack and the Order as she was driving home. Then I was at the Blade and Chalice when a member of the order came up to me and blew white powder in my face. But there was something else - I was in my bed but could hear voices “How could you be so stupid.” - it was Vera. “I did what I had to, since no one else seemed to able to protect the Order. We have to find a way to keep these wolves in check if your plan fails.” - I didn’t recognize that voice at first. Then I could hear Vera huff out “It they find out that you have messed with their memories especially about one of their own and are trying to use her as a bargaining chip, They will be more inclined to slit our throats then help The Order.” The other person was quick to reply “They wont find out, I preformed that Respondio myself Vera.” There was a moment of silence and then “Kepler, how many times will I have to tell you, I am your Grand Magus.” Then it all faded out and I woke up with a start. Eilene was still in bed just turned away from me. I curled myself around her to bring her close and kissed her shoulder. I could feel Tundra lurch forward with anger. There was nothing I could do tonight except hold the woman I loved close to me. The woman someone had tried to take away from me. 

 Part 11 coming soon!

[allie1804-fan]

Please Assist Me (Chapter 2)

Chapter 1 

He Said

Sophia’s trial month flew by  -  she had completely proved herself. By 6 months in, I really didn’t know how I’d coped before her - she had shown her value time and time again.

The gifts she helped me pick out were always perfect fits for the receivers and she always paid such close attention to the little details that made a gift personal. Kim was thrilled with the coffee set and Karina adored the genuine Moroccan tagine.

She made me laugh sometimes when she questioned the budget but I always just said that “you can’t take it with you” and “why have it if you can’t spend it”. Anyway, I am not that extravagant about most things, well not compared to others in my business. Sometimes though, the cheaper alternatives she came up with were genuinely great ideas.

She made the house feel loved  rather than the scruffy dormitory it’s prone to become when I am left in charge! I remember that on the very first day, when I got home, the t shirts and boxers I’d left in the dryer that morning were neatly folded on my bed. I had felt a slight moment of anxiety at a woman handling my undies but figured since she had been married, it wouldn’t be the first time! My house even felt truly homely sometimes when she’d bring the kids over if we had to meet on a Saturday or the school holidays. They are adorable and very well behaved – a reflection of their mother.

And her cooking skills were very handy – she’d make me salads and soups so I had easy meals after a long day on set so I didn’t always end up stopping for Ramen on my way home! And she even helped me one time by half prepping a meal I was going to make for Alex Winter and his wife. She made me look good though I did admit I had help!

Alex said

Keanu had a real spring in his step since starting his new project. At first I assumed it was all a reflection of his creative satisfaction but then I noticed something else – at every opportunity after she started working for him, he would mention his new PA Sophia when we got together or talked on the phone.

He’d tell me how it was she who picked out my birthday card and gift  - well the options at least and even she who was helping Karina to arrange his mother’s birthday party.

One weekend he invited Ramsey and I to dinner. There we discovered that it was Sophia who had prepped a lot of the ingredients for him the day before as he was on set on Saturday morning! She was everywhere!

He seemed to view her as his personal saviour but at the same time also seemed oblivious to the affection he clearly had for her – and let’s not forget her kids and how he gushed about them.

I needed to talk to him and took my opportunity after dinner.

He said

I guess all those thoughts about how great Sophia was were bubbling away in my mind over dinner with Alex and Ramsey. I could feel myself going on about her and noticed Alex raise his eyebrows a couple of times when I brought her up yet again.

In the kitchen after dinner Alex brought it up asking if maybe I had a little crush on her.

“nahhh, come on, I don’t have time for that” I protested “I mean, yes she’s lovely, a godsend to me    in fact and she’s very attractive I grant you but ……. What?”

Alex was laughing and rolling his eyes at me but I was hesitant to admit anything. After all, she was my employee, and from a different world from me. I’d always imagined that if I got together with anyone, it would be someone in our profession or something related. Someone creative who’d understand my passion. Besides, she was a mother of 2 and I have never got the slightest impression she saw me as anything other than the boss, the busy guy who didn’t have time to buy his own groceries or his own mother’s birthday card and gift.

“It’s just that she is really making my day to day life easier so of course I mention her a lot – I mean she half cooked our dinner”

“Whatever!” Alex said in an exasperated tone “just think about it, will ya?”

“Whatever!” I retorted.

I continued to ponder all this for several days and then events kind of took over.

She Said

The first month flew by and I passed muster. I was now employed on a rolling contract.

I know it was only everyday tasks I was doing but it still gave me job satisfaction. I put care into leaving the house looking and feeling homely and I tried hard with the gift and card buying, making sure I understood what he wanted and also found out enough about the recipient to get the most suitable items.

His insistence on signing the cards himself was adorable.  Most days that I was at his house, I’d need to leave something for him to sign or a little message asking for instructions about groceries or meals. In that way and through phone messaging, we had a continuous dialogue. I knew he was my employer but  it also felt like he was my friend.

That feeling was further reinforced when, about 4 months into the job, he invited me and the kids over to lunch one Saturday to meet his younger sister Karina as she was organising a birthday party for his mum and he was essentially delegating his duties to me.

Keanu told me that Karina would do some buffet food for lunch so I made a contribution of some home-made tuna empanadillas which were one of my specialities. I can’t deny that I held my breath when Keanu and Karina tucked into my bake and delighted in their enthusiastic response

“God these are amazing, you sure you don’t want to cater mom’s party as well?” Karina joked

I liked her and it was fun to start the plans with her. Keanu said his role was basically “show up and cover the costs” and left us to it, preferring to play with the kids. He’d suggested they bring their swim things and took them out to the pool to play.

Miguel and Eva really liked him and he took great pleasure in doing his Duke Caboom impressions for them. I can’t deny that my heart skipped a beat to seem him out there being so sweet with them. They didn’t see much of their Dad anymore since he’d moved away with his new girlfriend so it was good for them, and specially Miguel, to interact with another man.

@fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @keanureevesisbae @penwieldingdreamer @witty-wallflower @paperplanesandwallflowers @bitchyslut99 @ladyreapermc @toomanystoriessolittletime @fanficsrusz @keanuficfiles

[repulsivepangolin7]

Fic: 31 days of whump (30/31)

Word count: 1 940

He had no way of dodging the punch that was headed his way. He had a wall to his right, and a wall behind him, and on his left a second mean-looking dude blocked his way.

The shockwave from the punch traveled all the way through his abdomen, just like he had expected, but then the guy in front of him looked satisfied with himself and prompted the other guy to follow him.

Street looked down, and his heart sank.

He didn’t expect seeing the handle of a knife sticking out of his lower left side.

“Shit…” he just kept staring at it in disbelief. All this for sticking up for a girl he didn’t know.

He felt panic gripping at him. He had a freaking knife stuck inside him.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911 as he started walking towards the front of the street. A knife in the gut definitely called for a hospital visit, and he had no foolproof way of knowing if the knife had done some real damage or not. It probably had, it was buried to its hilt.

But it didn’t really feel that bad yet. If anything, it felt absurd.

It was like it ought to hurt, but it didn’t.

It was like it ought to knock him on his ass, but there he was, walking without too much trouble.

The only thing he knew for sure right now, was to let the blade stay where it was. For all he knew, it could be the only thing keeping him from gushing blood.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 “Hey, Hondo… I just got a call from Street.” Luca bit down on his lower lip, “He told me to tell you that he’s going… He’s going in for surgery. He- He was stabbed tonight… Says he’s doing fine all things considered. Alright, call me when you get this, okay?”

He hung up and squeezed his right fist so hard his knuckles cracked.

Even though Street had said multiple times that he felt good, and that the doctors were optimistic about his recovery, nothing about this night felt okay.

Oh dear lord how bad he wanted to punch something.

He shook his head and started pacing again, from the corner of the kitchen counter, to the pinball machine and back.

Then his phone started ringing. He picked up.

“Hey Luca, I just missed your call. Heard the voicemail, what happened? How is he?”

“He didn’t really say much. Just that he had been stabbed in the gut by some guy who had been picking on some girl. He called for an ambulance by himself, and climbed into it on his own. Man, I’m stressed!” Luca blew out an exasperated breath, “Anyway, he’s not coming in to work the day after tomorrow.”

“Of course not…” Hondo agreed, “How are you holding up? Would you like some company?”

“I’ve got Duke keeping me company, he’s laying under the table looking at me…” Luca shrugged, “Probably thinks I’m acting funny or something.”

“I could come over.” Hondo offered.

“It’s not necess-”

“-I know it’s not necessary. Do you want me to come over?”

Luca stalled a bit, looked over at Duke who tilted his head at him. As if asking ‘what’s wrong?’

“Probably smart not to be alone, huh?” Luca sighed, “Yeah, come over.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in twenty, just need to put some real clothes on.”

Luca couldn’t help but smirk at that comment, “Yeah, I should probably find a t-shirt to go with my PJ-pants. I’m not changing pants though.”

He could hear Hondo chuckle at the other end of the line. “Alright, see you in twenty. Call me if something happens.”

“Will do…” Luca nodded.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 As soon as they had hung up, he contemplated calling the rest of the team, but Street had only specified Hondo. The rest of the team could wait until the morning.

He paced a bit more, before he decided to go to his bedroom to punch the crap out of the sandbag he had hanging there.

The bag wasn’t enough. It didn’t relieve pressure as well as he had hoped. He continued punching. Continued trying to get some negative energy out of his system.

It didn’t work. Not tonight.

He broke away from the bag, pulled one deep breath before he spun around and chose the concrete wall in stead of the punching bad for his impromptu workout.

He kept hitting the wall until fatigue got to him and his legs almost gave out.

His hands were shaking, he couldn’t hold them still for the life of him. He looked up and saw that he had colored an area of the wall red with blood.

He looked down at his hands, and his knuckles were bruised, bloody and swollen.

He was soaked with sweat. He glanced at the clock on the wall, he had maybe five minutes to clean up before Hondo got there.

Grabbing a fresh t-shirt, PJ-pants and some boxers, he half-jogged over to his bathroom.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 While he was in the shower, washing the sweat off of him and the blood off his knuckles, the adrenaline started wearing off and his hands started hurting.

Soap made the cuts and abrasions on his knuckles sting like they were on fire. And moving his fingers made him wince when he didn’t prepare well enough.

He stepped out of the shower and reached for the towel. His hands were still shaking, but now they were aching as well.

He dried off quickly, and looked down at his hands.

There were a couple of good gashes over his knuckles. Two of them were gaping quite a bit, and could probably use a stitch or two each. But a couple of Steri-Strips would have to do.

He dried his hands a bit better, then he attempted to close the wounds with the thin adhesive strips. Would’ve been a lot easier if his hands weren’t swollen to heck and stiff.

After that, he put the fresh set of clothes on. He realized how his hands were looking and figured he had to hide them with zip-hoodie. Then he had to re-apply the Steri-Strips because they had peeled off.

Just as he was done closing his wounds a second time, he heard Hondo’s car pull up outside.

He pulled the sleeves well over his hands to hide them, before he opened the door to the living room in order to meet Hondo.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 Hondo had his own key to Luca’s home, so it didn’t take long before he was inside.

“How are you…” Hondo asked as soon as they saw each other, then his lips curved into a small smile, “So, you flexed too hard?”

Luca got real confused for a split second, before he looked down at his t-shirt, the print saying ‘I flexed and the sleeves fell off’. Then he shrugged and nodded.

“So, how are you?”

Luca took a calming breath and shook his head, “It rattled me.”

Hondo nodded as Luca walked over to the couch to sit down.

“I mean, we’re not supposed to get hurt, but when we do…” Luca shook his head as he placed his elbows on his knees, “We’re supposed to get hurt on the job. Not out on the town with friends…”

Hondo nodded again, and sat down on the couch as well.

They sat in silence for a while, then Hondo spoke up, “Your hands are shaking…”

Luca looked down at them and saw how bad they were still shaking. “Yeah, I beat the crap out of my punching bag from our call ended and until I had to jump in the shower. Muscle fatigue.”

Hondo nodded, and looked over Luca’s head, “You forgot to close the door to your bedroom… Let me see your hands.”

“Huh?” Luca’s head jerked up and he glanced over at the bloody wall, then back at Hondo.

“How are your hands looking?”

Luca groaned, but raised his arms to peel back the sleeves of the zip hoodie. Only to find that his hands were feeling progressively worse. He barely managed to avoid grimacing.

Hondo frowned as he saw the damage Luca had managed to do himself. “Punching bag, huh?”

Luca chuckled a little, “Yeah… Well…”

Hondo reached out for Luca’s right hand when the blond’s attention was off somewhere else. He really wasn’t expecting it when Luca yelped and pulled his hand away.

“Sorry.”

Luca shook his head, grimacing as he held both his hands close to his chest, not really able to cradle either hand.

“Broken?”

Luca shook his head, “Don’t think so…”

“Well, I think you should get some pictures taken…” Hondo sighed, “Of both your hands.”

Luca shrugged.

“I can drive you to the urgent care right now if you want to…” Hondo offered, “It’s almost 4 a.m. and with luck we’ll be done there just in time to visit Street.”

Luca sighed and glanced down at his beaten up hands, then he reluctantly nodded.

“Alright, but you might want some other pants. The muscle shirt and the hoodie is fine, but pajamas…?”

Luca nodded, “Yeah… Sure.”

“-And if you tell me where you’ve got your cleaning supplies, I can see what damage I can make to that stain you’ve got on your wall… I don’t think you’re up to it, and Street won’t be either.”

Luca nodded a little more, “Yeah, thanks… It’s in the laundry room. Under the sink.”

Hondo nodded and got up.

 SWATSWATSWAT

 Jim was a little groggy when he woke up. Half of the team was already there, Tan, Luca and Hondo were missing.

The fact that Luca and Hondo still wasn’t there confused him a bit. He had told Luca that he could tell Hondo straight away, but that the rest of the team could wait until the morning.

He was a bit too groggy to really address it yet, he was also a bit too groggy to keep a decent conversation with those from the team who was already present.

He dozed off a couple of times before he actually felt like waking up.

He had just woken up for the nth time when he heard Luca’s voice from down the hall. Then he heard Hondo’s voice giving a reply to whatever Luca had said.

He did a short wave at the two of them, Hondo waved back and Luca nodded at him.

“Kinda thought you two would’ve been the first ones here…”

“Oh, we were…” Hondo shook his head and gave Luca a solid pat on the back.

“Huh?”

Luca sighed and pulled his hands out of his pockets, showing off one hand wrapped in gauze and one wrapped in cast.

“What happened?”

“I went ham on the punching bag…” Luca shrugged.

“Yeah, and then you went ham on the concrete wall when the bag wasn’t enough…” Hondo added.

“Ouch…” Street frowned, “Are you alright?”

Luca chuckled, “Yeah man… I’m not the one stuck in a hospital bed.”

Street smirked, “Bet that I’ll be 100% before you are…”

“Game on, kid.” Luca grinned, “Game on…”

Hondo chuckled.

“So, how are you feeling?” Luca asked back after a little while.

“My stomach hurts. And my shoulders hurt…” Street shrugged, “The nurse explained that it was typical of the sort of surgery I had. Called it air pain, because of the air the surgical team used to blow up my belly to make room to operate.”

“Ow, I felt that when I had my appendix removed…” Chris frowned.

“But hey, I will almost have no scarring, so…” he shrugged a little, “That’s cool I guess.”

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Twelve | Mechanical ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Pein, Sasori, Hoshigaki Kisame ] [ Verse: Oil and Blood ] [ Vulgarity, blood ]

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Let’s see...which door was it again?

Walking along the alleyway, bag slung over his shoulder, Obito gives each entrance a glance. He can’t quite recall which number he’s supposed to be looking for...but at least he’s pretty sure he knows this is the right building. A few neon signs flicker in the grim dark space between the structures, rain slipping into the gap and forming puddles along the asphalt.

What a night for a fight.

Coming to a stop, Obito finds a door with a closed slat. 116. Is that right…? Deciding to try his luck, he knocks.

After a brief pause, the tiny window opens, a pair of eyes hidden behind a visor staring at him. “What d’you what?”

“Looking for Pein.”

There’s a noticeable silence. “...fine.” The slat closes, then the door opens, and Obito steps inside. “Be quick about it. You’re late.”

He ignores the touchy retort, taking the stairs downward as indicated by a pointing thumb over the guy’s shoulder. Already he can hear the distant murmurs of the crowds, swelling and falling in time with what they’re watching.

He can do this. Make it through a few rounds, and earn enough cash to get out of the city. Should be simple enough, so long as he doesn’t get his ass kicked too hard.

After scoping out a few of the city’s underground fighting rings, this one seemed the most promising to make a quick buck. He just needs enough for new papers, and a ticket out.

Can’t let himself get too greedy. It’s gambling, after all...and even if he’s one of the pieces in the game, there’s no real knowing the outcome.

It takes several flights of stairs to reach the proper floor, the roars barely suppressed. And as he opens a pair of double doors at the end of a corridor, the sound hits him full blast.

In the belly of the building, opening up to several floors, is the arena. Torn apart, beams and structure have been revealed as the building was stripped, people hanging out on all levels to get better views. In the center, a raised cage arena houses cybernetic fighters duking it out to near-death, mods glowing and blood spraying. Bright, cold lights illuminate the spectacle for all to see.

It’s been a while since he’s resorted to this. But legitimate work is hard to find, especially for someone with his record. So Obito lets his strength and his size earn his way.

Skirting the crowd that’s gathered on the main floor, he tries to find the man in question: the one he can talk to about getting in on the fights. The description he was given is vague: ginger, piercings, gaunt.

Sounds like a whole slew of people in here.

But he keeps looking until a man catches his eye. Something about the way he watches the contestants down below gives the aura of someone bored, wanting only for the show to end and the results to come in.

“You Pein?”

The stranger turns, and Obito finds himself a bit unnerved.

Rinnegan model eye mods. The ripple-like purple orbs, covering the entire visible eye, are some of the most advanced tech out there. They can connect to security networks and essentially “see” through anything taking video. Something tells Obito this whole place is wired, and just by standing here, this guy can see everything the cameras see.

“I’m someone who goes by Pein,” he replies a bit cryptically. “Are you here to fight?”

“Thought I’d do a few rounds.”

“You’ll have to have our tech check out your mods, make sure there’s nothing illegal.”

The idea earns a snort. Not illegal in terms of the laws, but the rules of the arena: nothing that will give him an unfair advantage against the other fighters. “All right.”

Hand to an ear, ‘Pein’ contacts someone with an internal comms mod. “Sasori, I need you to do a mods check.” He then glances to Obito. “It will be a moment. Once you are approved, you will have a locker to secure your belongings. Then you’ll be entered into the pool. How many rounds?”

“Depends on the winnings. I have a minimum to make.”

Pein eyes him, expression blank. “...very well.”

A few moments later, a redhead - short in stature - seems to materialize beside his employer. Right away, Obito can tell this guy is one deep into mods: more mechanical than biological.

“This is him. Get him approved, then we’ll get him in.”

“This way,” Sasori orders, leading Obito to an offshoot room. “Remove your outer garments.”

Well...here we go. Shrugging out of everything but his boxers, Obito reveals the majority of his mods. An entire arm has been replaced to the shoulder. On that same side, plating and wires adorn part of his neck, chest, abdomen, and part of his outer hip.

With a scanning module in his palm, Sasori starts looking over the hardware. “Most of these appear to be medical in origin.”

“Yeah. Accident,” Obito offers, refusing to elaborate.

“...some advancements in the arm, but nothing above code. The plating is also within our standards. You may proceed.”

He just nods, regathering his clothes. Knowing it will only get bloodied, he stashes his shirt in the locker Sasori unlocks for him, leaving him in his pants. He also takes off his shoes, pulling some fingerless gloves over his hands.

...nothing else to do.

He’s then led to another room, larger, where the other potential participants linger. To Obito’s honest surprise, a fair number of women fill the ranks. A few people lightly spar, punching and blocking in preparation of their fights.

“Name?”

Obito looks back to Sasori. “...Tobi.”

“When you hear your name, proceed to the arena. Once the fight is over, if you wish to continue, you will return here until the next fight.”

A nod. He’s done this before.

With that, the redhead disappears again, and Obito gives the room another studying glance. He’ll have to face at least a few of these people. Part of him hopes none of them will be women. He’ll fight one as an equal, but he’d rather not if he can help it.

“Well, you’re a new face I’ve not seen before.”

Looking to his left, Obito spots another fighter. And wow, this one has quite a few cosmetic mods. His skin is blue, hair a darker shade, and as he grins at Obito, a row of sharpened teeth glint in the light.

He even has gill mods.

Someone likes sharks just a little too much.

“Just making a pitstop,” Obito replies, beginning to stretch.

“There seem to be more and more of those nowadays. There are a few regulars like myself, but I suppose it’s not a very...agreeable lifestyle.”

Obito glances back to him. “How long have you been here?”

“Coming in now and again for years. At least once a week.”

Obito can believe it - he’s huge. Probably could crush his head if he wanted to. “Good money, or…?”

The man’s grin widens. “Somewhat. Mostly I just love beating the shit out of people.”

Oookay, hopefully they don’t end up as opponents. “Name’s Tobi.”

“Kisame. Good luck out there.”

“Thanks.”

A few other matches go by before Obito is called in. His first is nothing special, and he’s got the win within a few minutes. The arena is cleared, and he pockets his cash.

Just a few more.

Kisame too has his battles, handily winning each. After two more, Obito figures he just needs a single additional win.

“Tobi, Kisame, you’re up.”

...well shit.

“Ooh...well, nothing personal Tobi.”

“...yeah, likewise.”

The pair are let into the cage, the crowd hyping up. By now, it’s obvious they’re both top contenders. The announcer continues to egg on the audience as the gates are shut.

Obito sizes Kisame up. He’s huge, but...that might be a disadvantage when it comes to speed. While not the fastest himself, he might have better odds dodging.

Either way...he’ll admit he’s not confident in this one.

“FIGHT!”

The pair launch at each other, a blur of thrown fists and striking feet. Obito manages a few hits, but also takes his share. A split forms in a brow, blood leaking down his face. Alongside the sweat, it starts to make seeing a bit difficult.

This isn’t good.

And Kisame, despite their earlier friendly conversation, pulls no punches. Every blow that lands is like a train, aiming for the critical parts of Obito’s tech that help keep him alive.

Five minutes in, and he’s in deep shit. Damn...he just needed one more win…

Locking hands and struggling against Kisame’s strength, Obito’s jaw grits to the point of making his teeth ache. If he can just...get…

THWACK

With a crack that seems to echo, Kisame plows his forehead against Obito’s. His vision flickers, knees immediately giving out as his brain rattles. Like a puppet with its strings cut, he goes down, completely slack. Above him, he hears the countdown.

There’s no way in hell he’s getting up, now.

Damn it. Now that money’s going to have to go for other basics until he can rustle up more, and basically put him right back where he started.

Well...he tried.

Next thing he knows, Obito wakes in another room. Gone is the noise and ruckus of the crowd. He can barely hear it in the distance. And he can feel a bandage on his split brow, but everything else feels...muted. Slow. He’s obviously on some pretty hefty painkillers.

“Morning.”

Eyes struggling to move in their sockets, he finds himself visited by a woman. Without prompting, she starts going over his vitals and checking his condition. Some kind of...doctor? Employed by the pit?

“Where…?”

“You’re in the infirmary. Seems you got your cage pretty rattled,” she replies. “You’ve been out a few hours, it’s almost sunrise. Last few fights are wrapping up.”

Beside him, Obito hears a few mumbles and groans. Seems he’s not the only one in here. “...how...bad is it?”

“Not too bad. No concussion, somehow. Just a hell of a headache if I had to guess. Hence dosing you a bit to keep it at bay, as well as all the other blows you took. I’ll tell you what, though...you’ve got quite the goose egg. And that split is pretty nasty. I put in some stitches. Leave them alone or you’re gonna have a mess, all right?”

All the while, Obito watches her foggily. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. The doctor, if that’s what she is, looks to be about his age, maybe a year or two younger. But given the advancement of glamour mods, he can’t be sure. Is that why her hair is white…? But no, it’s her eyebrows, too...and her lashes. Maybe she’s one of those...what do you call them…?

“I’m going to recommend a few days of bedrest, but I’m sure that will be ignored,” she sighs, Obito tuning back into her words for a moment. “You got someone who can check on you, make sure I’m not missing a head injury?”

“...no.”

Another sigh. “...well, just be careful. If you feel any sudden dizziness or headache, you might wanna call an ambulance.” And off she goes again, his brain failing to focus.

...it doesn’t look like she has many mods. Obviously a HUD, given the chip at her temple. Likely a comms mod, too - even the most vanilla modders have those. There’s something in the palms of her hands, probably a medical mod for scanning and monitoring. One side of her head is shaved, and it reveals a few glowing wires trailing back into her skull.

...she’s really hot.

As soon as he thinks it, she pauses, looking to him questioningly.

...oh shit, he said that out loud, didn’t he? Damn pain meds…!

But rather than get offended, she just snorts. “Don’t worry, I hear that kind of thing all the time. This stuff will knock you loopy, that’s for sure.” Approaching him, she lifts a palm to his own temple. “I’m going to give you my contact info in case anything pops up later so you can have someone know what’s going on. Anything out of the ordinary, let me know.”

“...uh...okay.”

“For now, I’m gonna put you under again. You’re not quite ready to head out yet.”

She adjusts his IV, and pretty soon Obito feels his body grow heavy again. But before he conks out, he checks her info in his comms mod.

Ryū Suigin...huh. Cool name.

...guess that’s one way to get a girl’s number.

A few hours later, his body wakes on its own, the pain meds starting to fizzle out. And man...he can really feel those few hours he spent in the pit. Sitting up with a grunt, he winces at the ringing in his head and the throbbing in...pretty much everywhere else. It’ll be a while before he’s ready to try all that again.

A glance shows he’s the last remaining occupant of the infirmary. The doc’s still here, right…? He’ll be a bit lost otherwise, he has no idea where he is in relation to where he’s already been.

Then he hears a jingle of keys, turning to see Ryū come up short. “Hey! About time you woke up.”

“Er, sorry.”

A hand waves. “I’m only kidding. You clearly needed the rest. Come on, I’ll show you the way out.”

“Uh...I had a locker…?”

“Yeah, we’ll head there first, don’t worry.”

It’s then Obito realizes he’s still shirtless and barefoot, flaring pink. But she doesn’t seem fazed - surely she sees plenty of others just like him. They head through an empty hallway, making a pit stop by the lockers as Obito grabs his stuff and finishes redressing.

“So...how often is this place open?”

“Three nights a week.”

“Are you here for all of them?”

“Hoping to see me again?”

He balks. “I-I just mean -?”

She laughs. “Kidding, kidding. I am. I split it with regular work shifts in a twenty-four hour clinic. I’m pretty much nocturnal thanks to it.”

“Is it...legal for you to work here?”

“None of this is legal,” she replies dryly. “But Pein keeps the cops around here paid well enough, they look the other way. So long as they get a decent cut, they don’t care. In a way, I’m the same. I don’t blab about it, I just come for the work.”

“Huh…”

“I take it you’re not much of a regular?”

“No. Just when I’m desperate.”

“Yeah, I see a lot just like you. Looking to make a quick buck to keep their heads above water. But a lot just end up battered and bruised, empty-handed. It’s a real shame, but...that’s what the city’s coming to.”

Fully dressed, he lets her lead the way despite having regained his spatial awareness. “It’s why I was here, trying to make enough to get out. Almost had it.”

“But now having to stay means draining all that away again, right?”

“Right.”

She offers him a sympathetic glance. “That’s rough, but...hardly unique. Wish that wasn’t the case. It’s really tough being a medic in this town...seeing everyone you can’t help. I’d like to get away from it too, if I’m being honest. Just...like you say, you never quite get close enough. And part of me would feel bad, knowing all the damage I’m leaving behind.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault. And you’d surely help people elsewhere.”

“Yeah. But in a way, it still feels like giving up.”

He hums, not quite understanding. He just wants the hell out of this town so he can escape everything that’s happened here. Everything that continues to happen.

They reach the front door, the bouncer long gone. It creaks on its hinges as Ryū pushes it open. “You got a ride home?”

He blinks. “Took the metro.” Is she offering him a ride…? But he’s a total stranger!

“Okay, good. Don’t want you alone in case you collapse or something.”

...oh. Maybe not. Why does he feel disappointed?

“Remember, anything happens your body’s not familiar with, you let me know immediately. Could turn into something serious. Better safe than sorry.”

“All right. What about you? Safe to get home?”

She gives him a smile, and Obito stiffens as he feels his stomach give a wobble. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not far, and it’s light enough now I should be okay.”

“Well, uh...if not, you can always call me.”

To his embarrassment, she snorts. “Will do. Now go get some more rest - remember, take it easy a few days if you can. Your body needs some downtime.”

“I’ll try.”

“See you around then, Obito.”

It takes him a moment to realize she called him by name, but...well, that’s likely due to his comms mod. “Er, bye.”

...well, now what? Yes he needs to head home, but...he’s back at square one yet again. And he can’t just hop back into it - Ryū is right, he needs to recuperate before he even thinks about it.

And next time, if Kisame’s there...he’ll wait for another night. As nice as it was being tended to by the doc, it’s not quite worth it.

...almost, but not quite.

He sighs, rubbing at the rear of his head. For now...back to the ol’ grind. Scrounge for work, cut back to the bare minimums, try again. And next time...he’ll meet his goal and get the hell out of here.

Maybe he can even help get Ryū out, too.

...but that’s a thought for another day.

     Moar cyberpunk! Not quite as shippy, but tbh I kinda struggled with today’s between a lack of time and inspo. But I tried ;w;      Poor Obito got his butt whooped. A little harder to dodge without his Sharingan xD But surely he’ll get it next time, right?      Anywho, I’m tired, so that’s it for today lol - thanks for reading!