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capslocked · 1 year ago

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KINKVEMBER DAY: 7

[prompt: praise kink]

male reader x shen xiaoting

7k words

Well - from a glance, Xiaoting is flawless.

Every photographer makes the same movement as soon as she steps foot onto the stage - almost as if she's commanding them - but it's not a fair competition and she knows it.

The tiny black dress wrapped around her waist, hugging every meticulous angle in its stretch, isn't exactly the most practical of options, but then again nor was the sleeveless cut or the low-backend, nor the slit in the skirt that shows however much leg you're curious to see, nor the five-inch Louboutins with little ribbons at the ankles, crystals in their mesh like a real-life glass slipper - so, truly, anything about this outfit.

But in this industry, red carpets are about one thing: image.

(Something Xiaoting wields in excess.)

She pauses the subtle sashay of her hips mid-way across the stage, and pivots around, straightening out the waves in her hair, done-up and perfect-in-pink, over her shoulders. She lets the flash of every camera illuminate the swell of her lips in full - reflect and shimmer in the sequence of diamonds dangling under her ears. But it's all in that little smirk, the tilt of her chin. Everything working together to sell the moment; how breathtakingly beautiful she is, how proud, confident and seemingly indifferent to all the commotion happening around her - to every person calling her name and pleading for her to look in this specific direction.

You can watch how deliberate she holds her posture. See it. Understand it. Watch how she tips her head. The genuine kind of smile that could drive anyone to absolute ruin.

Maybe the more obvious: how the cameras love her - love the flash, the shine and glitter and sparkle of the fabric, love the turn of a heel onto where her legs are poised, her profile a perfect angle for every shot and more and more and more.

There's not even the slightest suggestion of just how overwhelmed she is.

"You're not supposed to be back here," is the very first thing you hear, as soon as Xiaoting catches your reflection in the vanity mirror.

You hold up a press pass with a headshot that loosely looks like you. Like in a really dark, kind of out-of-focus photo sort of way. Xiaoting simply lets out a slightly disapproving sigh.

"Someone's probably looking for that, you know."

"What's the worst thing that could happen? Someone doesn't get to ask you what your favorite color is, or what you had for breakfast? God forbid we need to know your TMI."

She slips the crystal bracelet off the end of her narrow wrist and places it gently next to the red carpet gear strewn across the surface in front of her. A necklace. The earrings, similar in their shimmer. A matching headband, an evening clutch in white. It's all sitting, not necessarily disorganized, but it's in the mess that Xiaoting is all the while searching for things; lip gloss and makeup, small hair clips.

"You could get us both in trouble, for starters."

When she looks up at you, briefly, there's an attempt at a scolding expression - a short-lived one, how it quickly gives way to a grin, a laugh, all the things she can't help when it's you in particular.

"I'll make sure it finds its way back where I found it," and with a hand over her shoulder, "or at least somewhere close enough. If anyone asks."

Xiaoting bounces an impossibly sweet smile off the mirror at you when her eyes find yours again. And while she starts unclipping pins from her hair, lifting and tousling and adjusting the curls into a more familiar shape, you're almost entranced in the way her shoulders loosen and her eyelashes flutter. In this light, she's even more devastating: an illusion of something both fragile, and immensely resilient.

"At the very least," she says, "I won't hold my breath for anyone else to find their way into my dressing room anytime soon."

She gets a hold of a simple clip, pulls a stray strand of pink off her cheek, and tucks it behind her ear. The gesture is fluid, elegant even, and so singular.

She really is, gorgeous.

The fact that you have to occasionally remind her of that is a different maddening issue entirely. You've always wondered - and always will continue to wonder, really - why it is the prettiest girls seem to have the hardest time understanding they're beautiful. It makes you crazy, makes your head hurt.

There's an entire world worth of things for her to fixate her attention on: her job, her fans and career; a hundred more names and faces to learn - people who would probably agree to hang the stars in the sky for her, given the chance, the mere opportunity. But instead she can only bring herself to stare into a mirror and compare notes and point out all these things she doesn't feel ready for.

This interview, or her performance, or the next.

"They're talking about me. Those 'insiders'," she explains, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the voices in the hallway. "Said, my styling this past year has been too 'soft.' Too 'girly.' No one's buying it," and with a pout: "now, or then, apparently"

"Always works for me," you tell her, in a way that implies it's absolutely none of their business at the end of the day; what colors Xiaoting shows up in, how she wears her makeup and dresses, her shoes or perfume.

She floats her fingers up to the dip of her collarbone, weaving them into your hand. The contented look on her face, now a near permanent fixture in the space she keeps between the two of you, suggests that of all her accessories - gifts and borrowed things she wears in a perpetual game of dress-up - you're the one she would prefer most.

"Well," she says, fixing you a mischievous twist of her brow, "you'd say that if I was up there wearing nothing at all."

"Oh, not a doubt in my mind."

(As usual, the both of you laugh far too much.

As usual, neither of you manage to care.

Your lives have always been about soft edges. A little nonsense here and there, so long as it means having more of her.)

She brings your knuckles to her lips, careful and reserved, and holds the tips of her fingers gently to your neck. "How much more do you have tonight?"

"The rest of the hour is probably asking too much." You help Xiaoting onto her feet, arms wrapping her middle, and with a kiss dropped into her hair, you tell her, "should probably report in, let someone know I haven't gotten myself expelled."

"Thought you said you were a terrible liar."

"Oh, I am," you say. "That's just how much trouble I've already been making for myself tonight."

Xiaoting watches you kiss her shoulder, her neck, all in amusement, eyes never breaking contact as your lips brush and linger against the delicate shape of her wrist. A shiver in her exhale - almost a laugh, an 'I'm listening,' in a form of its own - and you find her body shifting into a natural and familiar hold; the outline of her mouth so unbelievably tempting when it parts so naturally - that when it comes down to a choice: Xiaoting against you, you and her in her private room, the hustle and bustle, and rush-hustle of the building and people and machines outside your door -

It really doesn't take too much convincing.

"Fifteen minutes. They'll start wondering," you tell her, already dipping forward to capture her in your arms. She falls right back, perfectly content as though she doesn't belong anywhere else. "We'd have to be really quick."

"You're bad," Xiaoting hums, winding further into your arms, smiling between the warm, warm kisses you're trailing along the collar of her dress, where the zipper is resting and ready to be drawn down.

The moment is candid: you pressing your lips into the bare skin of her shoulder, following it up with something that's part laugh, and part the kind of sigh people make after too long without sleep. You're already struggling against the curve of her waist - the swell of her hips, all her curves - while your nose nuzzles in deeper, a delicate exploration into the bend of her neck, against her shoulder, the hint of perfume.

"Only one of us can be perfect, sweetheart." The damn truth, even if she hears it all the time and from everyone else. "You're gonna have to settle.”

You watch her expression melt into that self-composed, self-confident mien when you say it - in a quiet, contented kind of way; an ethereal sort of assurance. As though she was never meant to be touched by anyone, much less held by you, but somehow decided to allow it nonetheless. That look in her eye, it makes your heart twist. Every damn time.

"What about an accident," she muses, "something keeping you longer. Twenty maybe?"

"Oh," you chuckle. "Those happen in the hallway and parking lot. Where everyone can see. Never behind the scenes, for a totally unlikely and unrelated reason."

"Technicalities."

She turns to face you, fully, eyes lit and shimmery under the room's lighting; pink hair, all shades of glitter and silk and the smoothest, warmest skin. Your touch grazes up her sides, palms smoothing over the fine print, the sequins in the fabric, her hands all the while busy weaving, needily, around your waist, underneath the line of your shirt, finding and tracing along the ridges in your hips and spine.

Xiaoting wants you - plain and simple as that. The look on her face says as much.

And if you don't touch her now, kiss and feel her against you - all of it at once - she'll make sure you regret ever prioritizing anything over her. Over the two of you, and how perfectly and neatly you fit together, even if that means you're both absent for press calls, or a segment, or an interview she can't be late to. She'll blame you and it'll be okay.

"Fourteen minutes now," you inform her. "If it’s something you're counting."

"Give or take a few," Xiaoting smiles. Her words slip against your cheek, hot and honey-coated. It's tempting. Her teeth find your jawline and the gentle nip against your skin is hard to ignore. "Did you lock the door?"

"Believe it or not, that was the first thing I did."

And with her hips in your palms, you steal a kiss, because you can - because she's kissing you right back - her forearms wrapping over your shoulders, holding you tight around your neck, and, ahh - Xiaoting's mouth - how eagerly, so desperately, she parts your lips and slips her tongue over your teeth, humming, mumbling happily into a second and third and fourth kiss. Then, once the heat of the moment sweeps in, melting into something slower, sweeter, lingering, a little deeper, it's another.

And another after that.

She leans into you, the rise and fall, slow-down-then-start-again, of her chest and of her breathing and of the tiny, stifled noises she’s kissing into your lips. Only you're pinching the fabric around her waist, slowly lifting the hem of her skirt further up her thighs and reminding her that there's a promise for slow later, that she can take all the time in the world to map and remember the planes and edges of your body; trace the curves of every little sensitive spot and learn again how she fits into your hands, in the time and space that's left to the two of you alone.

"Thirteen-"

"Minutes," she echoes breathily against your ear and over the sound of her fingers in your belt. "I know. Got it."

Xiaoting's hasty. She has to be; reaching and fumbling to pop open your pants while the heat of her mouth finds you first, her tongue sliding smooth across your throat, chin, the warmth and the taste, then along the corner of your mouth - your tongue chasing hers and turning it into a mess that's as intimate and satisfying as it is clumsy; breath catching in both your mouths, hands intertwining, needing the contact with just as much fervent abandon.

Off, off, off, she's murmuring into you, thumbs perched dangerously on your waist, dipping into the fabric, tracing the rim, taking a tease down a little farther with each lazy caress, and, in the very back of your mind, there's a small voice in agreement that insists you are most definitely in no hurry at all.

It grows louder when the small shape of Xiaoting's palm is all the way down the rise of your pants, all over where you're beginning to grow hard - straining and twitching and almost painfully, impatiently interested. You hold her closer and clutch harder because the need is like a burn - one that's seared itself comfortably, wonderfully between your hips, where you feel each brush and curve and fond stroke of her touch.

Her eyes lift to meet yours, gleaming and knowing and laughing, no doubt aware that you're both going to be wrecked no matter which of these games she wins.

"Nothing we can't solve here and now." She tells you.

"True."

"I'll get my mouth on you later, make it all better."

"Later?" Your voice, completely a mess and breaking just enough, forces its way between a kiss that feels anything but. You're pleading for her, into her lips. "Oh, is that a promise, sweetheart?"

"A promise," Xiaoting gasps. "Or a threat. Depends how fast you're ready for me."

"Hush." And you hold her mouth open with yours, devour and drink the sounds falling from her tongue, each one that starts off shallow then trails deeper and deeper and deeper, until her hands have settled over you, and her fingers are finally pushing below the hem, and working the length of your cock, up and down and along it all.

"Hey,” she says, far too inviting, “aren't you supposed to be, like, tearing off this dress by now?"

Xiaoting smirks up at you. With a slight motion of her hand, the other having come to wrap fully around your shaft, the two fingers twisting along your tip, spreading the beading moisture into a long stroke.

"Very gentlemanly of you, wanting to keep it all nice and put together-" and with a wiggle of her brows, "-unsuspicious."

You clench your teeth through a gasp - a jolt at the sudden brush of her fingertips over the base, further down. Xiaoting has that mischief to her - she always has - a certain inclination to press and test the boundaries until they're unrecognizable, to poke and prod where she shouldn't, only the slightest bit concerned.

"Trust me, I would. Only this is a dress I can't afford to ruin, sweetheart." You're leaning her against the vanity, freeing one of her hands to press around behind her, against the cold, cluttered countertop, feeling how the sharp breath in her lungs goes soft and hot immediately, wanting.

"In that case," she tells you, a knowing tilt in her mouth, "you'll just have to ruin me in it."

That's a little closer to your budget given how fast your arm slips under her hip, pulling her up onto the vanity and angling her into you. Her skirt ruffles and follows, the material all too eager to keep you and the lithe frame of her body nice and snug together. There's that sharp gasp in her chest again, at the hand you're running up her thighs; an approval to your arrangement in the sound of her laughter, to your kiss, and all the fever-filled strokes jerking your cock that she's busying herself with again.

You can feel an urge you both share and want to make real and tangible, to peel down and past and over those tiny black panties; feel the heat rising, the wetness there, and all the eager, eager noises of her pleasure.

"Ten minutes." Your teeth are grazing into her lip, her mouth, while she whimpers so pretty into your throat. "Does that put any ideas in your head?"

"Nearly everything." Xiaoting lets your pants fall and uses the back of her heel to skid them down around your feet. "But maybe, especially your cock right here, if you’re going to slide it so slowly over me-" she sucks on her next breath, holding her hand where her panties are; smoothing against you with her hips rocking forward.

You feel her head drop, slightly, when she whispers into a heated kiss, "right between, the most tender way, where I'm aching the most."

"I bet you'd look beautiful with it," you say, all kinds of things, leaning and mumbling into her neck, all that exposed skin. "My cum on you. Sitting so good right here, in such a tight little-"

She stops your teasing with her kiss, pushing forward to the point where her ass is bumping right against your hips, your hand, your cock; coaxing you in closer.

And then, a particularly stern warning, probably warranted, sneaks out through the bite of her lip; just barely restrained: "I swear to god if you make a mess anywhere - don’t, if you know what's best for you.”

"That's a pretty roundabout way of asking me to cum inside you, Xiaoting. Wording matters."

"Telling." Her smile is all kinds of sly; all for you to witness and tuck safely in your pocket later. "Not asking."

"We’ll see what we can do with nine minutes," you tell her, and your cock is snug against the lace of her underwear - right where she's so fucking wet - you can already hear it in the little, jerking huffs in her voice and on her breath and how your hands are touching her through the fabric. How between hot, clumsy kisses, she's lifting and drawing her body as close as possible and curling into you.

(God.)

"Easy," she mouths, all hot and hazy as she drags the lacy band of elastic aside. It's your turn to inhale and jerk and gasp, but there's hardly anything there to catch you, just her whisper that says, "there you go, honey, fill me up real slow. Right to the very, very top," her voice arching high when you've begun to nudge your cock into her, opening her up and up and up with a slow, steady thrust. "Just - like - that."

And in the seconds, maybe minutes (you’re trying not to lose track), that follow, you are holding your breath against the heat blossoming through her cheek. Against Xiaoting, flushed and whimpering, hands buried in her dress and her hips starting to roll back on your cock. It's a tiny adjustment; nowhere to go but deeper, further - grinding together however you can manage.

It's one thing to love each other quietly, discretely and with all that discretion.

It's another entirely, in times like these, to give in to a raw-edge impulse that hits suddenly and leaves just as fast. Your hips snap in and in and in, Xiaoting's chest rising and rising, her head turned and pressed into the shoulder of your shirt, her hand already caught in a fistful of sleeve. And you - the friction is so soft and so good, a slick, easy glide of your cock - full - all the way to the very last inch.

Just her seedy, whimpering whine fills the back of your neck and your ear, and her arms and her legs locked in around you, like a coil ready to burst, that ache coming to a head.

The ends of her hair are soft and sweet where you gather a fistful of pink around your wrist, hold - pull, like a taut string. Xiaoting gasps a fluttering note as her chin tips up, the smooth canvas of her throat begging to be kissed and roughed up in just the right places. Reddening like the insides of her thighs, the heat there, where they're pinched around your waist - delicate little marks of where you're fucking her open and bare and deep and so well.

You could drink up each and every noise - all the keening and humming, the ruffled, strung-out sounds; how you're both breathing into a shared mess of gasping and panting, of Xiaoting whimpering into your throat, clinging on like she'll die otherwise. "Faster," she pleads all desperate and urgent. "More. Fuck this pussy like it deserves, don't you want it? So wet, can't you feeling how I'm aching?"

You can. Hot and wet and absolute.

You can feel the shudder-wreck, the absolute throe - there's not an ounce left between you; nothing but her slick, warm cunt clutching and hugging your cock, letting it stretch her apart and fill her again and again, the little ridge between your hips slipping over her clit on a forward, upward stroke and grinding there, with a shaky hand cradling her lower back for support while you drive back into the thrust.

"Ting, fucking christ - Ting, your tight little pussy is incredible." You groan into her skin. "Taking me, fucking, taking every, last, inch-"

"I can feel you fucking throbbing," Xiaoting tells you, all teasing and exasperated as she lets your name turn into a series of vibrating hums against your lips. "You're going to make me fucking lose it, the way you're hitting me inside."

See, you fit together, inside-and-outside so perfect; that when you begin to really fuck Xiaoting, when she's making it clear, over, and over, yes, harder, give it to me, and the table she's sitting on is giving away each-and-every one of her whimpers, you lose yourself in the rhythm and pace and the fact that Xiaoting's creaming cunt is working itself hot and messy and pulsating around you; so fucking tight, tight, - slick all around - almost drawing you in, then resisting and tensing every-time your cock finds just the deepest angle.

It's something to push, something that makes you greedy and drive her ass into the cabinet even more; make sure you're slipping along her walls just enough, and doing so with every few inches or less that you're managing to drive, working over a pressure so sensitive it might be making her see stars, every time a thumb digs a little deeper into her hip bone.

"All the way, baby," she's saying, whispering, making you want to fuck the words out of her in broken pieces. "So. Close. Just a little-"

She's gone, her back arched - bending into an incredible sight. And there's the most beautiful look on her face, even under the frantic-urgent rush. Your hands are all over her: pressing into the divots above her hips; petting the expanse between her tits, then down again, feeling out her ribcage, her belly, in between her thighs and parting them wider - like if she were any more spread open, she'd be coming right off the table.

Then, the thumb tangled into the sleeve of her dress, the rough pad of the other rubbing circles over her swollen clit - here you'll figure she'll cum; she's never shy about it - but it's more a question of how many times. How it always builds up and comes apart.

You're obsessed, really, with the details: her eyelids fluttering, the sounds of her skin sliding down onto the cabinets, her lips that can never get themselves closed.

"Oh, Ting," you're panting, licking all over her parted mouth, "do you need-"

Her nails begin to cut half-crescents into the small of your back, where she's been gripping at you; a moan falls straight out from her tongue, straight into your own, the closest she'll ever come to asking for anything: but it's easy.

"You're so fucking pretty, baby, I'll give you whatever you need-"

You slide your fingers higher up her folds, pushing onto her hot cunt right over the spot where your cock is disappearing inside her.

"I know that's what you need to be fucked silly, right? Need some extra friction so I can have the entire inside of this fucking cunt dripping-"

Xiaoting makes a noise that tells you, good guess. And you're playing her closer and closer to her orgasm, watching her teeth sink into her own lip, knowing that she's the one on a timer - which makes it all the easier, because you know exactly what to say next, because you've played this game enough - when you've already been fucking her and fingering her through one or two and her noises are telling you her body needs just one more, and then, the words usually roll right out, not the slightest bit contrived:

"That's it, sweetheart, you look so fucking good. So, so pretty cumming on my cock, baby. You're fucking gorgeous, you know that? I can't get enough of you."

Her mouth falls open, eyes screwing tight with it - the praise, the way you can talk her right into it every fucking time - the way it all but kills her: even when she's getting pumped full of pre-cum and sleeved around your cock like a glove, you know that sometimes the words are the only thing she's chasing, and her jaw starts to trembling just like the rest of her. This full body tension, head to toe of perfection you're whispering in her ear. She's pressing her heels harder than before against the back of your legs, digging, her whole chest shaking for a gasp of air she doesn't seem to ever be able to fully catch.

"But god, I wish you were looking at me," you're begging, sincere, with a deep sort of pining, when you get the the sharp twist of her neck, like it takes everything in her, then, like it's a miracle - those lidded, still-water eyes focused right on you. "I want to make you fall apart, just looking at me, sweetheart."

(Your poor heart. An obsession. So in love with her.)

The kiss you steal from her lips is deeper, your tongues playing a familiar song, the push, pull - how easy and perfect she fits.

When she cums, it always starts quiet, not like what she's just started doing: the kind of cries and moans that begin to make it past her teeth, desperate and panting, her fingers crushing down in place where they're pressed to your skin. Those whimpers that start quiet, get loud, fast, and then Xiaoting's arching right up from the table and clenching her entire body. With you inside her, she's so wrapped up in how good it is, the pleasure spiking past her pussy and into her veins.

"Shh," you soothe her, lovingly brushing her hair to the side when her breath shudders hard; the mess you made, sliding a palm against her cheek when the first few tears gather, the way they always do when Xiaoting's overwhelmed and torn down in such a good, beautiful way.

You could kiss her, when you feel the curve of her trembling lips. You do, again-again; slip and wet and parted and sliding when Xiaoting lets you hold the base of her chin between your forefinger and thumb, and bring your mouths together like that.

You could hold the moment longer. Keep kissing her and not moving - except Xiaoting has that meek, "Fuck me," mumbled into your open mouth, her half-wits returning and giving her the very start of a wicked grin - all sloppy with orgasm. "However you want, whatever will make you cum fast-"

"Turn around for me. I'm going to show you how pretty you are, looking just like that-"

"Y-Yeah- '' Xiaoting is trying, her joints trembling as she moves her body. She's so good, listening, rolling onto the surface of the table with her ass up, palms spread out and supporting her into this perfect line. Xiaoting's defining the curve: where her lower back and tight little ass begins and ends, right up into her shoulders and spine. Her hair has fallen across one side, and now you can finally see how much she's blushing in the mirror, the messes that her eye makeup has smudged into, how good she's been, and now how sweet and pliable and worked open her muscles are.

The view alone could have you blowing your load before you can even do it properly inside her.

But, god - the fact that her dress was hanging down on one shoulder, then on none, exposing her naked skin entirely; the fact that you can't resist grabbing a hand around a waist-full of her body and dragging her back closer, slotting your thighs under hers and her ass up against you, cock sliding into her still-clenching cunt without the help of your hands, just finding it where it belonged. You give it to her like she's meant to take. Fast. Hard. Deep. Making sure each-time your cock is in its base-deep place and sliding right back out, pulling slick, creamy strands out from her fucked-out pussy. Bathing you in her want, her need, pooling along the base of your cock; seeping everywhere.

There's just so much of it. The sounds echoing off the empty walls, so distinct, unmistakable, so full and thick. The way your whole body seems to tighten and tense along with hers - everything tight, you can see it, your eyes sweeping from Xiaoting's thighs to the reflection of how she just takes you. Shaking each time, the lines of her body wobble forward when your hips land a heavy thrust and slide along every bit velvety-wet inside her: no room for your cum when she's this overflowing, you figure, wondering how full of it she could even get.

"Fuck," the word just slides off you. "Fucking god, you're the best fuck," you praise her. Like heaven.

Because Your hand is in her hair again, wrapped up in and smoothing over the tangles; feeling her like silk. But now you're grabbing too - holding her steady, a fistful between the roots; you want her back arched, canted just that one angle higher that you know would push her past all limits.

“Oh my god,” she gasps out, once your get her knee planted up on the counter - once she's spread herself even further for the weight of your body. "That's it - holy shit, please-more-"

There are little whispers too - stuff that makes your cock twitch a few times, pulsing in warning - not even fully aware that she's cumming down all over your waist, praises like the hottest of filth, please and yes and I need it and fuck and fucking christ, keep going and don't stop don't stop please baby I'll do anything anything-

Xiaoting's voice reaches the same high pitch she does when her clit is getting hit, not sure what part of her body you're touching or just the overwhelming sensation, but god she doesn't know which way to turn her neck and face. She just ends up taking it all in, breathing in the gravity of the moment - her reflection, yours, the feeling - a tremor building up, her eyes flickering back-forth when she realizes they've started to close, forcing herself to look at the both of you.

You fuck your cock through each inch of her quivering cunt, each one hotter, tighter, wetter than the last - until you're spilling cum - cumming deep and fast inside her -

Reaching so far she can feel the thick pool of it getting fucked further into her with every shallow snap of your hips; her ass flushing back up against your stomach. Filling her to the brim - enough to feel it drip and seep and slide.

And she doesn't stop, the way she has her hips rolling down your length and staying there, your cock rooted into her deepest spot. If there's one more thing she gets off on it's being filled, milking the remnants, emptying you, and - because she's almost fucking teasing you, you feel it when she's clenching the remaining dredges right out of your body; out and leaking hot along your over-sensitised skin. The sharp sting of it has your hands tight on her waist, her ass spilling through the gaps of your fingers - deciding what you'll do.

"Three minutes," she says, panting, "is enough-"

You squeeze through the sculpted round of her ass. Spank it. Knead it.

"You want me to fuck another one into you - can you take that? You'd be such a good girl if you can take a fucking like that."

"I mean it," Xiaoting rasps, hips still lifted and angled toward you, as she meets you in the mirror; her eyes looking past your reflection, still coming down, wrecked and fucked raw, but making the message clear. "I'll make it easy for you."

And with that's she got her hand on your still-hard cock; not nearly enough softness in her voice for the rough grip and the sloppy pumping - fucking filth out of her still, if there was ever any hope of getting it out the way she's pulling and using and moving the slick all over you, spilling it onto the floor. "Think I can make you cum again, right here and now."

The thing about Xiaoting is:

She makes bad decisions, but always with the best intentions. That's why you always know what she'll say.

Because it's almost always the same answer: a pair of crossed wrists and a coy-eagerness that's enough of an invitation for you to make use of what she's given.

And this is the exact way you find yourself dragging the fabric of her dress down her shoulder, her middle, her breasts falling back down from their bounce when you unwind it, then twisting the end tightly into itself before shoving it into the soft valley of her mouth.

I love your tits, you know that?" you tell her, mouth open and hot against her shoulder blade. “So fucking pretty all over, Ting, your entire body's amazing and it does things to me-if I could, I would keep my cum inside this tiny little pussy, over and over, keep filling it. Make your tummy swell for me, sweet baby, and never let a single drop-"

"Do it-" she moans out, words garbled by the fabric. Her eyes are wide and full of the darkest innocence, like anything could happen; anything you wished. "Do it, your fucking cock, want to feel you-"

You spank her again, and she keens.

The mirror is showing you how her chest reddens under the rush of your hands kneading at her, almost violent, before sliding down the back-insides of her thigh, pushing, "But, what you look like with my cock buried inside you, stretched out and still so fucking tiny around me."

It's not new. It's what makes Xiaoting give you the dirtiest, sexiest little hum around the cloth wedged inside her mouth.

Then her cunt clenches down on your cock, and you're groaning, "christ," watching the way her face tugs at the stretch, watching, when her back is pushed out again - the angle. You're lining up, sucking in the full and naked and glistening display of her body before letting your hips fuck into hers again. It feels even better than the first time: tightening like a vise around the thickness of you, your cum pouring back inside her, then with her eyes fixed to yours in the mirror, you get to watch her lips straining; a drooling, whimpering mess.

Then. You're slamming her waist into the table. Rough, reckless. Desperate to reach another edge, rough enough that she can barely look up from her bowed elbows, elegant features twisted into something a little more awful, a little more pretty - just there, and - and -

A third time. Four. More.

Xiaoting's whimpering, just so spent she has nothing else left, your cock filling her up so full and hot with your spill; she's sloppy and flushed and you're pressing her up into the cool surface of the mirror, with her legs giving in when she collapses over her heels and nearly tumbles over; her own body weighing nothing.

If she asked, "carry me," in any way, you'd be on her like clockwork; you'd get her turned around into a loose-limbed pile, a leg thrown over each of her waist; she'd already have her cheek nestled against your jaw, halfway asleep, a warm bundle pressed up and waiting to get tucked into bed and swept into all of the things that would make her purr and melt; blankets and warm-clothes and showers and tending.

You'd always make a show out of sweeping her off her feet. Because the thing is, Xiaoting deserves it.

And you let her know that:

"You're always the sweetest, aren't you? Taking a fucking like that," you tell her, burying the dying gasps of a laugh right into the sweat-sticky back of her neck. You can feel her throat vibrating out a small sound, her brain almost definitely not able to formulate words, maybe only just registering the tones of your voice. "You are just so breathtakingly gorgeous, babe, the prettiest baby. The fucking world must be upside down, because no one tells you nearly often enough."

And -

Xiaoting - really, above all else, is fucking gorgeous. Because her tired laugh echoes a small part of itself straight down your spine, filling all the dips between each of your vertebrae. Genuine smile and all.

It has your skin crawling back to life, warming up.

There's a murmured 'thank you' said somewhere into the back of her hand, between her pinky finger and her ring, a small, stifled breath that pulls on her tired voice; it's a sleepy sound, like honey, and maybe that's why you choose to tell her one more time.

You glance at the clock on the wall. It's been a good fifteen-plus-extra minutes. You can live with that.

"Told you we'd be late," you say, smoothing out the fabric of her dress.

Which means this is the second time she says: "Nothing there we can’t solve with a little..."

"Carelessness?"

"Misdirection. Pretty convenient for some of us," Xiaoting murmurs with the lingering sweetness of your kiss on her lips. "Who have that charming talent with words."

She looks up, wincing and dabbing at the dried tracks on her cheeks where her eyelashes have swept away all the makeup and tears, like a soft brush sweeping away the layer of snow, she lets her head rest there in your palm and the other soothes, warm, on the back of her neck - her shoulders a little slack when you feel her whole body relax.

"Love you," Xiaoting says, after a heavy breath; a shaky exhale, just under her tongue; "even when we're a little crazy."

Your cheeks warm as they squish themselves around her grin.

"Love you. Now hold still," you say - taking it slow, kissing the damp pink curls right behind her ear. Then, for the most part, it's back to business. Back to normal.

Makeup wipes and wet washcloths. Clearing and setting the furniture upright. Hastily undoing the locks, so that to anyone who's passing by and smelling the raw, irrefutable evidence of sex and sin, they can turn away and think twice - no one's fault except the wicked thoughts swirling and forming in the back of their thoughts.

(No matter how many times you do, it's no different with Xiaoting; her smile turns the wheels in your head - still spinning. You can't help it when she laughs with her eyes still half-mast - fucked-out; a headiness, her tone like velvet.)

And the 'yes, we do,' on her breath when she hums again, is the beginning of an I-told-you-so, when you tell her, "c’mon, we've got places to be."

#xiaoting smut #kep1er smut #kepler smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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beelmons · 2 years ago

Text

Luxury Poker Nights pt. 2

Pairing: Hotch, Reid, Morgan x fem!reader Rating: Explicit, smut (18+, minors do not interact with this story) Word count: 5,806 cw: unprotected sex (do not recommend), sex-servant kink, voyeurism, multiple partners, non-vegan food options, slight degradation, free use kink Summary: It's Aaron's turn to host the poker night, and he figured it would be a great move to invite the entertainment they all fervently enjoyed last time: you. A/N: This was so highly requested I hope it lives up to expectations. Prompted by an original blurb found here Tag list: @illumi3 @ash-recs @canyonmooncreations @howabouticallyou @unlikelyqueenninja @kay-moranguinho and my always honorary mentions: @ihavemanyhusbands @cassiemartzz

Meeting Aaron Hotchner was nothing short of an absolute pleasure. Gentle, kind, considerate, funny when he finally got rid of the stoic boss facade, everything you would love in a partner whether casual or serious. All these reasons played a role in deciding to partake on a very specific contract: to serve as his servant, sexually speaking.

"Hey," Aaron greeted you before leaning in to press a friendly kiss to your cheek.

"Hey, Mr. Hotchner." you replied.

His head tilted and eyebrows raised with playful offense "I've told you, if you don't want to call me Aaron, at least go with Hotch."

Every so often he would call you in, mostly to a very beautiful house owned by a man you knew as Rossi, and you'd come for the sole purpose to act out your role. To serve and please them.

This time, however, he was hosting in his own apartment. It was the classic bachelor pad, the adult version, barely decorated but tidy and resourceful. You had been in there only once, but you had memorized the area pretty well. He also looked especially handsome, navy blue polo shirt and denim black pants with casual sneakers, you could notice his toned biceps in that outfit.

"What are my instructions for today?" you asked as you got in, taking a look around to remember the layout.

"The usual. Although, I might ask you to take charge of the kitchen for a little bit. Bring snacks, beverages, nothing too complicated. Oh, and…” he began to say, reaching for a bag that was laying by the entrance “this.”

From it, he pulled out what seemed like a traditional maid apron. You could tell he had it tailored for your body, and that the lace around it seemed to be fine, not the cheap ones costume stores had. You reached for it and pulled it from the strings you were supposed to tie, you hovered it over your body to catch a preview of what it would look like, the man had a good eye, it sure made you feel hot.

“Of course, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can ditch it.” he tried to reassure you, seeing how you kept admiring the piece.

“It’s alright, Mr. Hotchner. But a maid outfit? I thought you preferred me in the bare.” you teased.

“Don’t worry, we still get plenty of access to the parts of you we love the most, being that the apron is the only garment of the costume you will actually wear.” his hands slipped in his pockets, his face lighting up with a smug smile “You can change in the bathroom, the guys should be here soon.”

You made your way to the mentioned room to obey your first order of the night. Aaron waited patiently in the kitchen, putting together a couple more things so that the serving part of your job would be easier. Nonetheless, a knock on the door distracted him from his duty. He hurried to open, immediately being greeted by Morgan and Reid.

“Hey, where’s Dave?” he asked, noticing a missing member.

“He said he’s got something to do but he’ll catch us—” Morgan’s eyes fixed on something behind Hotch, and his train of thought completely disappeared “—later.”

The boss turned around when he noticed Spencer’s perplexed eyes, similar to Morgan’s, and he smiled to himself as he turned around to watch you already in your ‘uniform’, to call it some way. The apron was comfortably secured around your waist, the length of it barely covering your front to the middle of your thighs, your back absolutely exposed, being that the fabric of the apron was only on the forepart, your upper body out in the open, with your nipples already perked from the cold air conditioning hitting them. And to them, you were the most beautiful of monuments.

“What’s your safe word?” Aaron asked, his eyes immediately scanning your body.

“Cacao.” you said confidently, your head nodding in reassurance.

Aaron looked back at Spencer and Morgan, making sure they caught what you had said. They both shook their heads in agreement, and so he locked the door behind them “Let’s begin poker night, then.” he ordered.

“I’ll get some drinks for you guys.” you said, and you were about to move to the kitchen when Hotch’s voice stopped you.

“I believe I haven’t given you permission to speak.” he emitted in a commanding voice.

You understood his words for what they were: a warning. He had been clear enough, when you were there to work, you had to be diligent. Always keep yourself busy, available, and quiet, those were the rules you had signed up for. Your hands folded on your lap and you bowed your head slightly in response.

Once they were out of your sight, you headed to the kitchen. You gathered a couple of snacks that Mr. Hotchner had prepared; some peanuts, pretzels, and cut up fruit, added with three open beers. He had let a tray out for you as well, possibly with the intention of making everything easier. By the time you got to the table and began to spread the food and beverages around they had already dealt the cards.

You settled the empty tray on the side on a random surface, and Mr. Hotchner spread one arm in your direction indicating you that he wanted you to join his side; you did as he desired and his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to sit on his leg. As if ritualistic, the hand that was closer to his body was grabbed and brought to his lips, a gentle kiss landed on the back of it, and then he guided it to his member, that at some point he had already exposed. It was an instinct, you already knew what to do. Your hand began to slowly massage the barely hard shaft, and you could hear him exhale particularly hard at the sensation.

“Rules will change for tonight. You can’t bet ��All in’ unless you have at least fifteen chips, and you can’t bet two rounds in a row.” Aaron began to say.

“Isn’t 15 a bit expensive?” Spencer’s eyes narrowed with doubt.

“Not at all, given that an ‘all in’ winner also gets 10 minutes to command our servant as they please.” his hand dragged upwards, purposely taking his time to brush your skin with his fingertips, nipple included, until they landed on your chin, tilting your face to have you look in the direction of the other two men “And you could agree, she’s worth the risk.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the way they hungrily stared at you, but they didn’t say anything further, both Morgan and Reid simply went back to looking at their cards.

The game began and you hadn’t been given permission to move, you had to remain on Mr. Hotchner’s leg, caressing his member. He seemed unbothered by your steady movement, but you could feel him throb every so often, and it would fill you with cocky pride. That was another rule: you weren’t allowed to go rogue, they came when they wanted to, not when you caused them to. If you acted too smart and tried to make them climax before they wanted to, you were sidelined, given the silent treatment. That was more punishment than doing anything else to you, because chances were you were going to enjoy whatever else.

You would steal a glance at random times to notice his tip swollen and reddened, even when he tried to keep composure, and continued to play his hands normally, you had learned the little twitches his dick made whenever he was getting close. His head turned to place a chaste kiss to your shoulder blade, giving you permission to keep going. Your hand trailed down to give his balls a gentle squeeze, which caused a loud groan to come out of his throat, and after a couple more fast strokes he began to spill his seed.

Mr. Hotchner had been clear that he did not like messes; his entire member was coated in his semen, and some had spilled over his pants as well. You reached for one of the pockets the apron had sown on to find a handkerchief that you recognized as his, in seconds, you were on your knees, you wiped clean the fabric of his pants, his shaft, on the other hand, didn’t require the cloth, you grabbed at the base and licked a strip up, repeating the same movement until he was clean, and hard yet again.

“All in.” Morgan’s voice snapped everyone’s attention, and since you hadn’t been given indication to do otherwise, your mouth kept working Aaron’s dick.

“Already? You’ve only won one round.” Spencer asked, his math not quite adding up.

“I’ve got enough.” he clarified.

“You got exactly 15, though, if you lose this, you don’t get any more.” Hotch looked in his direction.

Morgan’s head tilted slightly to the side, catching sight of your still bobbing head. He smiled as a response to his boss’s explanation, pushing the chips forward to the center of the table.

“She’s worth the risk.” he said, a wink sent to Spencer. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, even if you weren’t able to stop your current activity unless indicated.

The other two men exchanged looks, if they didn’t raise, they would still lose, perhaps that was part of Morgan’s scheme, but they weren’t about to just give you up by default. They pushed the corresponding chips to the pool in the center, and Reid was the first one to open his cards. Full house, nines over jacks. Hotch was in a slump, two pairs, queens and kings.

“Full house.” Morgan said before he opened his cards, and Spencer’s attention was specially perked “Aces over sevens.” he finally said.

Spencer let out a soft curse under his breath as Morgan laughed in pride, he was certainly rejoicing on having made that play. You received a light tap on your shoulder that indicated you it was time to move masters, and so you stood up and directed to stand next to Derek.

“Actually, sweetheart, I will need you in the kitchen for a bit.” he said, his hand nonetheless landing on the skin of your rear, gently squeezing it “Peanuts and pretzels are a bit hard on my stomach, do you think you could make me a quick sandwich?” he asked ever so chivalrously.

“Anything in particular you would like?” you asked, taking his question as permission to speak.

“Some ham and bacon would be excellent, thank you.” with a soft slap of your ass he sent you your merry way.

Kitchen duty was on the original arrangement, although you didn’t quite picture yourself making sandwiches, Derek’s smile was so charming you would learn gourmet cuisine just to please him.

You gathered the required stuff, bread, some mayonnaise, and the ham and bacon. Being that you were topless, using a pan was out of the question, so you used the tray on the small electric oven that was next to the stove to cook the pork strips. You were too entranced by the silly way in which the meat shrunk to notice that Derek had walked into the kitchen, only becoming aware of his presence when he leaned next to you against the counter.

“You make a great maid.” he pointed out, and you bolted up a little from the surprise. His hand instinctively reached for your waist, trying to keep you from falling back “Easy, you might hurt yourself.”

Even when he made sure your feet were steady, he didn’t remove his hand from where it was, in fact, he simply took a couple of steps closer.

“I enjoy servicing.” you said, eyes traveling south. You could see his cock already hanging out from his zipper, and you tried to reach for it in an attempt to caress it. His free hand, however, stopped you.

“I can see that. You also take initiative, that’s impressive.” he began, his hand bringing yours up to press a kiss to it in a similar way Hotch used to do, but instead of allowing it to stroke his member, he directed it to the kitchen utensils you had laid out “But I believe for things to be done right they have to be done with the utmost concentration, so why don’t we focus on that sandwich, huh?”

You pouted a little and he let out a light chuckle at your disappointment. You went back to the task at hand, getting a dull butter knife to begin spreading the mayonnaise around the slice. You felt the warmth of his touch leave your waist, and you were about to complain yet again until you felt one of his fingers sneak between your legs and trail up your slit.

You shuddered and your legs instinctively closed. He tsk’ed his tongue in disapproval, and you understood to return them to their original position. Derek wasted no time, the two fingers in the middle of his hand slipping into your cunt. He was fixated on your face, absorbing every expression as you melted due to his digits, your hands gripping on the surface, leaving the sandwich unattended.

“I haven’t told you to stop working, have I?” he whispered commandingly.

His fingers began to curl upwards inside of you as they continued to move inside and out, getting coated with your juices. You tried your best to keep yourself still, your hand shakily reaching for the rest of the ingredients. He didn’t stop his movements even when you dropped the knife on the counter from the way he hit the back of your cunt.

“Careful.” he warned at the clinking sound, you peeked over your shoulder while you grabbed the utensil and out of the corner of your eye you could notice his hand moving over his now hardened cock “Come on, beautiful, keep going.”

You shook your head a little in an attempt to clear it, even when his relentless fingers weren’t giving you the opportunity. You finally managed to pay attention and began to assemble the deli meats. You barely noticed when he moved behind you until you felt his tip rub against your entrance.

His hands ran over your front as he pushed inside of you, slowly, and they landed on your breasts. A pleasure mewl slipped past your mouth, but you cut it short.

“Come on, now, I’m not Hotch.” he complained while he gave you the chance to adjust to his member “You don’t gotta have my permission to talk, let that voice out.”

His hips snapped rather roughly against yours, a loud slapping sound echoing around the kitchen; it caused a loud moan from you, one that you were sure could be heard from the other room. “That’s a good girl.” he praised.

His initial rhythm wasn’t slow, after all he was in a hurry. It made assembling the sandwich all much more difficult, you struggled to open the door of the electric oven, almost getting burned thanks to the way his cock so deeply pushed inside you, all while your throat was unable to keep quiet, intermittent noises unsteady from his thrusts.

One of his hands slipped down and in between your legs, the tip of his middle finger rubbed at your clit with a gentle speed, almost unmatching to his hips. You sensed him look over your shoulder to check up on the status of his food, and your hand trembled as you set the bacon down to finish it up. He laughed with pleasure, and his fingers dipped on the skin around your hips.

“Can you take it, baby?” you could feel his thick member erratically twitching inside of you as he asked, and you nodded your head fervently “Of course you can.” he reassured.

He snapped a couple more times, rough enough to make you lose your balance and press up against the counter, before you heard him grunt and felt your cunt being filled with his spill. The sensation of his cock pushing your walls sent you over the edge, and you began to drip with your release, a loud moan accompanying the blissful sensation. He pulled out with ease, not waiting for you to come out of your high, and stepped away to grab the meal you had prepared.

“Thank you, beautiful, looks delicious.” he winked at you with his signature charming smile before he began walking out of the kitchen “Oh, and pretty boy said he wanted some iced tea, be a doll and bring it after you’re done cleaning up, thanks.”

Without further word, he vanished from your sight. You had to take a second to catch your breath, desperate for a bit more friction. You considered touching yourself, but if Mr. Hotchner were to catch you, you wouldn’t be able to come again all night, he would make sure of it.

You could feel Derek’s cum beginning to drip, but the cleanliness of the kitchen was a priority. You abided by the task that you had been handed, after a couple of minutes of cleaning up, since you hadn’t made a big mess, you prepared the beverage for Dr. Reid and headed back to the area. You settled the glass of iced tea next to the man that had requested it.

“All in.” as soon as you stood next to him, you heard the youngest of the group exclaim, he then muttered a casual ‘thank you’ at the gesture of having his drink brought over.

Hotch and Morgan exchanged playful glances. They knew he was rushing, his decision possibly prompted by the fact that your breasts were so close to his face; they noticed the bobbing of his adam’s apple, and Aaron had paid attention to how he palmed his bulge while he heard you get taken in the kitchen. Logic just flew out of the window when you were around, and his coworkers adored seeing that side of him.

“You got me.” Morgan said as he folded his cards, and Reid cockily took a sip off his drink.

“I’ll play.” Hotch mentioned before adding his chips to the pool.

“Two pairs. Kings and Queens.” Spencer opened his hand.

On his part, Hotch could simply scoff while he threw his cards on the table. “Jacks and Queens.” he said with pretend defeat.

The blond man boasted with his expression in pure pride. He didn’t use to be the kind to order you around, unlike the other two who had gotten very comfortable, and preferred you took the initiative during game sessions.

This time, nonetheless, he looked quite eager to take control. Once he noticed you looking at him expectantly, waiting patiently for your command. He narrowed his eyes, ever inexperienced, trying to come up with something, or rather trying to find the right way to ask.

“Could you…” he stopped to try and analyze his next words “Could you bend over?” he motioned towards the table.

It took your entire strength to not laugh, you weren’t making fun of him, he was just ridiculously adorable, and it made hard contrast with the whole situation in the first place and his actual sexual interests. You obeyed, not wanting to make him self-conscious, moving Derek’s plate out of the way elegantly before resting your entire body face-down against the piece of furniture.

You let out a quiet whimper from the contrast in temperature; your ass was left up and exposed in his direction. He finally stood up, and you looked back to peek at what he was up to, his hips had lined up with yours, his member was still clothed, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing at your asscheeks and pressing his bulge against your dripping cunt.

“Why don’t we change the game?” his eyes were glued on your skin wrinkling up with every push, but he kept talking to his coworkers “How about blackjack? Hotch can play house” he proposed.

“Reid, it’s literally illegal for you to play blackjack in two states.” Hotch pointed out.

“That’s true. You have an unfair advantage.” Morgan added.

“Card counting can only be done with extreme concentration and observation of the cards being dealt.” his eyes didn’t leave your body, his palm gently massaging your skin as he kept rubbing himself on you “And I happen to be too busy to pay enough attention.”

“Alright, but blackjack is a fast game. The player needs to win at least three rounds to claim their prize. Draws don’t count towards the winning number.” Aaron clarified.

The rest of the players nodded in agreement. Mr. Hotchner was the dealer, since he was playing the role of ‘the house’, and he began assigning the first round of cards. Before he got to Reid, though, he noticed there was no space on the table, your body occupying most of it, and so he resolved he would just put it over your naked back.

You gulped in surprise and your body seemed to get hotter, you surely weren’t expected to be used this way; your nipples brushed against the surface of the table, and Reid noticed how you pushed back against him slightly.

The doctor pulled away, satisfied for the time being with the friction that he had gotten, and realized there were a couple of white-ish stains.

“Come on, Morgan!” he exclaimed once he noticed it was semen “Can’t you clean up after yourself?”

Derek could only break into a laugh, and you noticed a small smirk on Aaron’s face as well.

“Sorry, kid.” he simply said, waiting for Hotch to open his second card.

Reid made an unamused expression and crouched down to observe the situation. You still had some drip down your thigh, and your slit still had some traces of Morgan’s release.

“I’ll help you out, but I need you to do something for me.” he said, palming at your ass to let you know he was talking to you; you hummed, replying that you were listening intently “I won’t be able to use my mouth, so if I suck, it means hit, if I insert, it means stay”

You furrowed your brows with confusion, but he didn’t give you much time to understand. You felt his tongue trail up your inner thigh, taking the liquid that had spilled over it with it, and shortly the muscle pressed against your slit, taking a lap at your entire sex.

Your hands gripped at the side edges of the square table, on your right side Derek Morgan was looking intently at his cards, on your left Aaron Hotchner was paying close attention to the youngest’s movements. He snapped back to the game once your pleased noises started flowing, his hand darting out to land on top of yours and rub at the back of it slightly. Aaron dealt the second round of cards and Reid’s landed on your back once again.

“14.” the older man said.

A little distracted by the way his tongue teased your labia, you didn’t pay attention to the words the dealer had said until you felt Spencer’s lips wrap around your clit and intensely suck the air in. The sensation, which was foreign, made your legs go weak; the man pressed his face against your rear to keep you up, and it only made the interaction so much hotter.

“Hit me!” you exclaimed in between moans.

“8. Adds to 22.” Hotch said calmly.

Reid grumbled against your cunt, his tongue going back to your entrance instead, superficially licking, taking his time to taste everything around it.

Morgan was busted as well, which meant the house took the round. Spencer kept a steady and slow pace; you felt the cards being removed from your back and, almost immediately, a new one was added.

“20.” Hotch said again.

The youngster’s hands had been placed against the outer sides of your thighs in the meantime, however once he heard the number they traveled up. He pulled away and you slightly whined at the lack of contact, his thumbs spread the outer part of your pussy open and his tongue immediately slipped inside your entrance.

“Stay.” you struggled to let out, only coming out as a shaky breath.

Hotch opened a couple more cards, Derek was busted again, so there was a chance for Reid’s win.

“21 for the house, house wins.” Aaron exclaimed.

Your head defeatedly laid against the wooden table, the man buried in your rear could feel your walls clenching and your hips slightly moving to grind against yours. Your shaky breaths didn’t only alert him that your second orgasm of the night was coming, the other two men could also tell.

“Reid, your time with her is almost up.” Aaron pointed out after taking a look at his watch.

Spencer pulled away once again, to your discomfort, and narrowed his eyes pretending to think.

“I’ll tell you what, win this round and I’ll let you orgasm.” Reid proposed to you.

You trembled a little with anticipation, feeling your orgasm edging on. Instead of allowing his tongue back on you, he simply pressed open-mouthed kisses to your labia, making sure he wouldn’t touch any sensitive areas.

Aaron dealt another round of cards over your back, not even paying attention to your begging face.

“16.” he notified you since your eyes were tightly shut with irritation from being so close yet unable to release.

“Hit me.” you commanded, still feeling Reid’s wet lips kissing your sides.

“3. Adds to 19.” He clarified as he threw another card against your back.

“Hit me.” you said once again.

Aaron and Spencer exchanged looks, it was a very risky move, statistically heavily improbable.

Hotch opened the new card against your back, and he let out a pleased chuckle. “2. Adds to twenty one.”

Reid laughed with incredulity, but he was a man of his word. His lips clasped your sensitive nub once again, and he sucked the air in as his tongue moved rapidly from side to side. A high-pitched moan at his movements, and you couldn’t help but to release your juices over his face. You could hear an erotic slurping sound from the back, he was abiding by his promise of keeping you clean.

“Well played!” he beamed at you and cleared the cards from your back “That was a very unlikely pull, I’m surprised you made it.”

“Certainly.” Hotch reassured as he dealt the next round of cards.

Reid had sat back down on his chair, and as the pieces of carton landed on you, you decided to stay put on the table. Spencer’s eyes would travel from his cards to your ass from time to time, almost as if he was pondering his next move after he won.

However, he wouldn’t be as lucky, and neither would Derek, since the next round was won by the house, which meant Hotch was back in control. You were about to stand back up and his hand laid on your bare back, stopping your movement,

“Actually, honey, why don’t you remain there for a little bit more?” he commanded and you obediently remained “Reid, move.” he said standing up.

The younger furrowed his brows with unintentional defiance “But this is my seat…” he quietly complained.

“You can have your seat back once I’m done with her.” Hotch said, his tone was as imposing, but you could tell he was a little more gentle. You didn’t know the exact nature of their relationship, but you had figured Spencer was a soft spot for him.

He finally obeyed and stood up and away from the chair, leaving enough space for Hotch to stand behind you. You could immediately feel the tip of his member prodding at your entrance, after what Reid had done to you, you certainly didn’t need any more preparation. You were overstimulated as it was, but his cock was always welcome, and he could tell by the way you were clenching around nothing simply by having him so close.

He smirked to himself at the feeling and immediately allowed himself inside of you. You grunted with pleasure as you felt him enter, your fingers, tired from gripping on the sides of the table, beginning to curl around in the air.

“Here, you can grab onto this.” the ever so chivalrous Derek Morgan reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours, giving you a soft area for you to squeeze trying to not lose control.

Mr. Hotchner wasn’t going to pretend being gentle, his thrusts picking up speed as soon as you had gotten used to his size. He moved his shirt slightly aside, enjoying every second of watching himself disappear between your contracting walls. He let out a soft groan in pleasure, and you could tell he was beginning to lose himself in you. His hand gripped at your buttock, squeezing roughly to help him move your hips back and forth.

The other two participants didn’t seem to move a finger, they could only stare, with pleased expressions on their face, at the way tears began to prickle on the corner of your eyes. Reid reached to land a hand on top of your head soothingly, and his kindness was always appreciated.

Your obnoxious sounds were a delight to the three of them, therefore they dreaded the tune of a ringing phone interrupting the melody they adored. Hotch reached for the gadget within his pocket, furrowing his brows at the caller ID.

“Yeah, JJ?” he said and made a ‘shushing’ sign to Spencer and Derek.

Reid gently moved his hand from your head to your mouth, initially he was simply going to cover it with his palm, but an impulsive thought beat him to it: his index and middle finger slipped inside your mouth and pressed against your tongue.

“Suck.” he ordered in a whisper “It will help you keep quiet.”

You obeyed the doctor’s order, however, focusing on coating his digits in your saliva; your sounds were kept muffled in your throat, but they escaped your lips from time to time, since Aaron was not giving you a second of rest.

“Can’t it wait? I see. It’s fine, Reid and Morgan are with me, call Dave, we’ll meet you there in 15.” Hotch continued instructing. He was doing his best to appear unbothered, and he was purposely hitting deeper each time, almost making it a challenge for you to keep your sounds down.

“A case?” Morgan inquired as soon as his superior got off the phone.

“And urgent.” he put the device away once again and leaned slightly over you. His fingers glued themselves to your clit, circling it slowly, he was trying to, most likely, rush your orgasm. The pleasure it brought to you was a little painful, being that it had been the part of your body that had received the most attention during the night. You whined at the sensation, and Reid had to slide his fingers further back to keep you from screaming.

“You know, Hotch, there’s a question that I’ve been meaning to ask for a while.” Spencer suddenly emitted, and Aaron looked curiously in his direction, prompting him to inquire “Are you really paying her?”

The question caused Hotch to chuckle slightly “No, it’s more like an arrangement.” he confessed, still focused on pounding your cunt.

“Then what does she get out of it?” his eyes narrowed as he observed you, fucked out of your mind, swallow your cheeks around his fingers.

“She gets to come,” he clarified “as many times as she can take.”

As he spoke, his hand raised to land a loud, yet not utterly strong, slap on your ass; he did that sometimes when he allowed you to release. His hips snapped one final time, pressing all the way in to spill his cum inside of you. Your third orgasm of the night was divine, your teeth slightly gritting against Reid’s skin.

You laid there, absolutely exhausted, for a couple of minutes as they gathered their things and fixed up their clothes. Once you had recovered your energy enough to stand up, you felt your knees betraying you almost immediately. Morgan bolted from his nearby spot to offer his body as support, his arm surrounding your middle.

“You alright?” he asked with concern and you nodded.

“Here.” Spencer came closer with a wet wipe that he handed to you.

“I’m sorry we can’t see you off, but this is urgent.” Hotch came out of a random room with a briefcase on his hand and his pristine suit already on “Rest as much as you want and help yourself to anything in the kitchen, just make sure to lock the door when you leave.”

Without saying any further he leaned closer to you and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. He muttered a ‘let’s go’ directed to his subordinates and almost dashed outside the apartment. Morgan simply took a quick peck at the side of your head and told you to ‘take care’. Spencer stood there awkwardly for a second; you could see in his eyes that he was trying to do something, anything, but he couldn’t find the right gesture. Unable to take it much longer, you curled your hand into a fist and offered it in his direction. He bumped it with a fist of his own, and both of you laughed with a bit of embarrassment.

“Listen,” you said before he could move away, slightly entranced by his hazel eyes “the arrangement I have with Mr. Hotchner…” you diverted your gaze, suddenly slightly embarrassed “...it’s not exclusive.” you finally said.

Spencer’s eyes opened and eyebrows raised in surprise, were you insinuating what he thought you were? His mouth opened and closed in search for an answer, but he struggled to make sense of anything, too scared to diffuse the interest you had shown in him.

“You don’t have to agree right now,” you reached behind you, to the side table that had the landline phone on it, to grab a pad and a pen and immediately wrote down your number “if you want to explore a contract of your own, give me a call.” you said with a smile handing the paper over to him.

“I will!” he said with almost too much excitement.

“Reid!” Morgan yelled from the corridor.

Spencer let out a quick curse and wrinkled his face with frustration “I’ll call you.” he said before he left in a rush.

You giggled a little with teenage-like excitement, a feeling that you hadn’t experienced since you first started your dynamic with Mr. Hotchner. New guy, new conditions, new games. Perhaps poker is not the only way to have fun.

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finnbbl · 1 month ago

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Hey, I saw your requests are open. Would you write something for 3Racha where something sad happens and the reader turns non-verbal to try and cope with it?

It's just a problem that I always have and I would like to know how you think the boys would react :)

3Racha when you’re nonverbal

3Racha Written

Prompt: Being friends with the main producers of a music group had its perks. But when you’re asked to accompany them a certain gathering, you hesitate when you figure out who will be there.

Genre: Angst/Comfort

Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Implications of trauma, alcohol and dr*g mention, I don’t think there’s any swearing, reader goes nonverbal.

A/N: I wanted to first start off by saying I apologize it took me a bit to get out. I’ve been in my own slump and I’ve found it super hard to find motivation for anything, especially writing and posting.

I wasn’t sure if you wanted a specific incident to happen where the reader goes non verbal, so I hope this is okay. I also wasn’t sure if you wanted it romantic or not, so I just kind of wrote what felt right in the moment. I tried to leave the situation vague so it could match with anyone’s experiences. I personally don’t like it too much (I honestly hate my writing so it could just be that LOL) so I can make a separate post with a text version, of course it would be a little bit different than this. Please let me know your thoughts 🙏

Requests - OPEN

Masterlist

Please read disclaimer in masterlist

Parties were the absolute worst. If you were forced to choose a least favorite thing on the planet, parties would be it. They’re loud and crowded; Worst of all, he’s always there.

3Racha had been nominated for an award. They had been invited to a big award show, a one where afterparties usually follow. You were incredibly proud of them, knowing just how hard they worked. They meant the absolute world to you, and to see them put their best foot forward and exceed tipped you over the moon. Previously, you’d turn them down when they’d ask you to attend with them, and you had a very good reason. Firstly, parties just weren’t your thing. You never fit in with everyone else growing up. Secondly, you knew that he was going to be there. You didn’t know what to call him. Putting a label on things had never felt right to you before. If someone were to ask him, he’d tell them you were together. But if someone were to ask you, you’d say it was complicated and you were content with how things were. You did that with everyone that seemed to be more than friends with you, commitment was a scary thing. But you did know that he was someone you never wanted to be around ever again.

You remember the way he’d always ask you to accompany him to one. He was the partier in the “relationship.” However, you’d always preferred to stay in. Nice and cozy in your blankets. One night, you decided to try and get out of your comfort zone. You wore something different, and put effort into your appearance. The moment he let his hand “accidentally” linger over your ass was the first sign of a mistake. The night only went downhill from there. Next thing you knew you were drugged and taken advantage of. It took you months to recover, months to find the will to get out of bed. Only Chan out of the three knew of this incident, but only very very vaguely. He only found out because he was the one nursing you back to your normal self again. You avoided giving him details, he doesn’t know the person, time, nor the place. You wanted to stick to using being tired as an excuse to politely turn them down. There was no way you could let them find out that you were just too weak to attend said gathering, especially because they don’t know what happened.

You listened to the boys explain how excited they were for this one. How this was such a big award, and how it was going to be so much different. The excitement that laced their voices made it hard for you to deny the question you knew was coming. “Do you think you could go with us this time?” They knew the answer every time they asked this question. A hesitant no, almost as if you were thinking about it. In reality, your mind was fighting off bad memories. It was hard not to think of it when even the topic was brought up, there’s no way you could bring yourself to revisit the place it happened. He was always going to be there, just like he was at every one while you knew him. Again, parties were his thing. So you were confident no matter which one you attended, he would be there. You were scared, to say the least. Scared of seeing him, scared of being pushed back into that dark room, scared of reliving what had made you feel so lifeless.

However, Han’s unintentional puppy eyes drew you closer and closer to the edge. How you wanted to see them happy. You weren’t sure if it was only platonic or if there was some hint of romantic feelings for them there, but you knew you loved them so much. Although the three knew the usual answer, they still proceeded to ask. They felt as they should always invite you, even if they know what your answer would be. However, this time you surprised them. With a quick purse of your lips, the words fell from your mouth. “Fine, but only this once.” The way their faces lit up when you agreed to go to with them brought a smile to your face. Though it quickly dissipated as your brain grabbed back at those awful memories. The guys were too lost in excitement to notice, but you’d prefer it that way. Everyone else had their own problems, so you hated adding your own on top of them.

The last few nights leading up to the award ceremony were filled with anxiety. Sleepovers with Chan were a mutually agreed way to get both of your minds off of stress. However your anxiety still managed to claw its way through what was supposed to be a comforting barrier with him. Chan was next to you, fast asleep which was something that was rare for him. Meanwhile, you silently cried next to him. Hours passed and you were still unable to fall asleep, too busy fighting off the horrible memories. Horrible memories of a time in your life that left you numb. You couldn’t shake it, knowing that he was going to be there. He was a popular artist, and you’d already checked the lineup for the event. His name was there, and now you were petrified. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you changed your mind. They were so excited, so you dealt with it.

The night of the party arrived. You’d isolated yourself for the day, hoping to prepare yourself enough for what was about to come. Hours passed and next thing you knew you were sat between Chan and Changbin on a fancy couch. Despite it being a fancy event, Han sat on the back of the couch with his feet on either side of you, his hands slowly running through your hair. It was a common thing for you to do with the three, often being very touchy with each other. It was to the point where you questioned if you were more than friends. While you didn’t kiss, or do anything beyond that, you were very hands on. Cuddling, hugging, playing with each others hair or outfits, you name it. However, you couldn’t decipher whether it was platonic or if there was a hint of romance in there.

Suddenly, an all too familiar voice snapped you out of the peaceful thoughts that managed to distract you for.. at least a little while. Soon enough, your worst fear of the night happened. He placed himself on the couch right across from you guys. The first 20 minutes or so, he had the subtlety evil smirk on his face.

However, you knew it would dissipate sooner or later. Based on your experience with him, he was an extremely jealous person. And given, how important skin-ship was to you and the three boys, it was only a matter of time. It happened when Han noticed you were quieter all of the sudden. His fingers came to a slow stop in your hair to travel down to your shoulder. His head leaning down to your ear to whisper something.

“Are you alright, jagiya?”

It was quiet, quiet enough where only those within a 3 inch radius could hear. So you wonder why you saw that man who you feared, drop his smirk to a frown. Maybe he read Han’s lips and noticed the word ‘jagiya’ ? Either way, you ignored it, and with a nod and a small smile which was noticeably forced, you brushed off Han’s worries insisting you were just tired. Changbin took notice of his member’s concern, and leaned in close to reassure you that the event would be over soon. You gave him the same smile and quietly thanked him.

Thats when he suddenly started staring daggers at you from across the room, his hand clenching onto the almost empty soju bottle. He was drunk, for sure. That had to have been the scariest part. It only added more fuel to the fire, you were silenced. Except nothing was physically stopping you from speaking. Your head dropped down, staring at your nails that now started to dig into the palms of your and in an attempt to quiet the voices in your mind. It was a bad habit you picked up when you got anxious. Recently, it’d been worse so you currently had crescent shaped markings left behind on the center of your hand. Han noticed the tension in your body, and leaned down to express his concern once again.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re very tense.”

No response. As much as you wanted to reassure him that everything was okay, you couldn’t. It felt as if your throat was closing up, you couldn’t speak or move. You were anxious, overstimulated and all you wanted to do was jump out of the window. Anything to escape.

Your eyes were now staring daggers into the floor, and your body was completely still. Did you even hear him? He wondered at your lack of response, however it didn’t take long for him to pick up on it. But before he could say anything else, Chan’s hand gently but swiftly grabbed yours. Holding your hands in such a way that your nails couldn’t fight their way through your skin again. Chan was a very observant person, so it didn’t take him very long to notice the marks on your hands. That’s when Han recognized what was going on, Changbin following in their suit not but a few moments later. Once again, Han leaned down to say something. He was well aware that you were nonverbal right now, but he said it anyways hoping you could at least muster the energy to tell him you wanted to leave. You suddenly felt a hand on either shoulder, which were now rubbing soothingly into your tense muscles. “Do you want to leave? Chan still has to say his goodbyes to everyone, but I can take you outside.” This sentence was whispered into your ear, and the word ‘leave’ sparked your attention. You nodded almost too eagerly.

With that, Han motioned for you to stand up, saying something to you excuse yourselves. Chan let your hands slip out of his, looking over at his band mate and Changbin to silently communicate everyone would be leaving soon. You were unsure of what he said, now focused on not making eye contact with a certain someone right across from you. The closer to you that Han got, the more anger you could feel emitting off of the man in front. That only left you more anxious. Suddenly, Han put his arm around your waist gently to guide you out. The anxiety started to die down as you stepped out of the building, but the tears you were fighting didn’t. “You okay?” Han softly questioned as your eyes looked up to meet his. It took him not but a brief moment to notice your glossy eyes. He immediately pulled you in for a hug, which caused you to break down. Still unable to speak, you only mumbled out incoherent words that the male tried so hard to pick up on. Fortunately for him, he was able to make out a few words which told him everything he needed to know.

You felt unsafe is what it was. Although he wasn’t sure why, it was a step. Han would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t sense anger and tension in the room. The reason was what he couldn’t figure out. His head rested on yours, gently rocking you back and forth hoping to calm you down. Suddenly the door opened, but you remained still. As Chan and Changbin walked over, your breathing began to slow down. “Sorry n/n, I did my best to get us out as soon as possible. They don’t know when to shut up.” Chan apologized and rubbed his hand up and down your back. “Come on, we’ll talk later. Let’s get her out of here.”

Once you all arrived home, everyone went to their dorms. Except you stayed back at Chan and Jeongin’s. Although the younger was in the middle of a brand deal, which left you and the latter alone in the dorm. The trio agreed it would be better if you stayed with one of them for the night, so they decided on the leader’s as it would be the calmest. Your body lay next to him on his comfortable mattress, the lights set to a soft and comforting purple color with the tv playing a movie on the lowest volume. The male laying next to you, with his hand running up and down your back. Your eyes followed the movements of the character on the screen, but your brain wasn’t absorbing any of the plot. It was obvious this was a difficult night for you, but Chan just had to know.

“Feel free to not answer, I know you’re still not in a talking mood..” He led on, and your head raised to make eye contact with him. “Was that the guy… from you know.”

You did know, you knew exactly what he was talking about. Your facial features remained still, looking back and forth between both of his eyes as you mustered up the energy to get some form of response out. With that, you only nodded before turning back to the movie. Chan could swear he felt his heart break and everything suddenly clicked in his mind. If he had known it would only cause you anxiety, then he wouldn’t have pestered you to go for so long. “I am sooo sorry y/n.” His other arm found its way around you as he rested his head on yours. “We wouldn’t have pressed so hard if we knew what was going on.”

Although you didn’t respond, your hand found its way to his and gave him a light squeeze to reassure him that it was okay. “I know I don’t know the whole story but you can always talk to me about how you’re feeling, alright?” A small smile formed on your lips and your head nodded against his, nuzzling further. He let out a light and squeaky giggle as he ran his fingers over your knuckle gently. It was in this moment that you realized it was all going to be okay.

#stray kids #skz #skz imagines #skz x reader #bang chan #changbin #han #3racha #stray kids comfort #stray kids x reader #skz scenarios #han x reader #bang chan x reader #changbin x reader #changbin comfort #bang chan comfort #han comfort

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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prompt: im also thinking of a very bad fic where ghost is taken pow for awhile and it fucks him up and he’s forced to see a therapist when he’s rescued but he’d rather use her p[] as therapy instead. tags: nsfw, implied/not described violence, slight dubcon, unprofessional relationship lol

It isn’t serendipitous that you meet; it comes because of a lot of bad luck and malevolence.

He’s captured during a routine surveillance mission and spends three months as a POW in some shed in the Ural mountains. He comes back different. That’s to be expected. Trauma is an insidious thing that takes root under the skin, that twists and turns even in the dead of night. It’s a tunnel that gets tighter as you walk through it. It would be concerning if he didn’t come back that way.

You know far too many gory details to ever feel truly comfortable around him. Not because of anything he’s done but because you can’t help the way the narrative builds in your mind when you look across the room at him. Even sitting on the prim and proper little sectional in your office, his body too big for the cozy little couch you picked up from some upscale boutique with your government paycheck, you can’t help but mythologize him.

The official story is that four men were found dead when Simon Riley was finally extracted from the shed-turned-torture-room six months ago due to a bacterial infection that, luckily, Simon was not exposed to. The story’s flimsy even to your untrained ears; you may not have gone to medical school, but it just seems too perfect, too impeccable. When you push your superior for the truth, the look you get and the quiet “leave it alone” tells you far more than your paygrade deserves.

Even knowing what you know, he shows up day one with the skull balaclava like some bone fortress that tells you before you even try, I am unknowable. You can try to cut me up and look inside, but this is all you’ll find—bone and bone and more bone.

He’s remarkably resistant to therapy, which is also to be expected; you aren’t at the stage in your career where you’re surprised that a man entrenched in the machinery of militarism won’t acquiesce to talk therapy.

There’s a point where you want to try a new tactic, something to get to the root of what he’s hiding from you. So, you poke at it. You ask him to give you a five-minute account of the traumatic event, something that took place in the shed.

“Which of those events do you dislike thinking about the most?” Your pen is poised over the pad in your lap.

He raises a brow so high up that it disappears behind the mask. “How could I pick just one?”

His voice rumbles like tires over gravel. Sometimes your leg jitters when he speaks and it’s not your fault. You shut it down though because this is not a legend in front of you but a man, and you are in this room with him for a very specific purpose that does not include finding the sound of his voice attractive.

You ask him again: “Which comes to mind first?”

Simon doesn’t answer you, but there’s a flash like quicksilver across his eyes and you catch it not because you’re looking but because he lets you.

He shifts forward in his chair so that his elbows are propped on his knees and he’s leaning forward, closer to you than you’re comfortable with. You didn’t think to put a coffee table between the two of you. With other vets and active personnel, it’s easier without the sense of distance; makes them feel closer to you, vulnerable because it’s just skin, oxygen, and skin.

With Simon, you get the sense that distance might be better.

“What comes to mind first is that it was dark and I could smell the blood. I could taste it. But I couldn’t see it.” He doesn’t blink for as long as he speaks. You try not to let your breath shorten; you feel hungry for his truth the way a wolf hungers for the moon. “And it was dark and I could smell it; it was in my throat because I knew it was the only way out of there. I realized in that room that there is no righteous path but the one you take.”

Simon leans so far forward that his body glides up to stand and the pencil trembles in your hand when he takes a step close. He’s bigger looming over you, all brawn in the way military men often are, but sleek in his movements. You think of snakes or panthers.

He breathes in. “You smell good though, love. Do you think we could start there instead?”

You open your mouth to reply, maybe even tell him to sit down so you can approach the question from a different angle, but then he’s on you, quick as he must have been that night. One big callused hand over your mouth and one knee on the couch, his other hand reaching up to pull the mask below his nose. You feel the warm press of it into the side of your neck and try not to struggle.

His breath shudders across your skin. You shake because you feel all the bone hidden beneath his frame now.

Simon’s hand is rough when it slides up your shirt. Pretty pearl buttons go flying; one rolls under the prim and proper couch. You only struggle for the first couple of seconds before professionalism melts away like a fine mist. Like you can do anything but look at him like a revelation. You stare at the pearl beneath the couch when he fucks you, legs split around his waist and you know it’s going to hurt in the morning.

“If I’d known that you were waiting for me while I was in there,” he breathes, sonorous and rich, mask rolled up over lips bisected by a puckered scar, “I would have torn out their throats much more eagerly.”

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod simon riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost/reader #ghost cod #ceil writing #cod modern warfare

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the-stars-are-buzzing · 6 months ago

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@jegulus-microfic - prompt: bottle - wc: 457 -

~~~

“Okay, that’s enough drinking for you, love,” James sighed, standing up and walking over to the other side of his and his friend’s makeshift circle around his coffee table.

“What? Not fair,” Regulus’ words slurred as a frown pulled downwards on his pink lips. His cheeks were painted a color of light crimson despite the boy’s constant cold temperature.

“You’ve drunk nearly the whole bottle of firewhiskey, Reg,” James smiled softly as he made his way over to the pouting boy. The others weren’t paying much attention to the couple, already engaged in their own drunken conversations.

Ever since graduating from Hogwarts and buying an apartment for him and Regulus, their friends insisted on meeting up every Saturday, since most of them were off work on the weekends, or Sundays at the very least. How they were going to keep this tradition up when Regulus, Barty, Evan, and Pandora returned for their final year of school, James didn’t know. He didn’t need to focus much on that right now, though, since there were still a few weeks until he had to say goodbye to his boyfriend.

Before these get-togethers, Regulus had said multiple times in past years that he never saw the point in drinking around other people, claiming it had always made him uncomfortable to be the slightest bit intoxicated with company around. Then, James realized he had never actually drank around friends, and instead was talking about how uncomfortable he had felt drinking around his family, which is fair.

After getting Regulus to relax enough to drink a few butter beers around their friends, the boy started slowly getting more and more comfortable with the idea of drinking with people he enjoyed being around. Tonight was the first time anyone besides James and Barty had seen Regulus drink anything champagne or butter beer, and it was quite the experience.

Even though James found his boyfriend heartbreakingly adorable like this, he knew that once he started getting into the more specific parts of their relationship, it was time to cut him off and put him to bed. Regulus would likely kill him for letting it go even this far, Merlin forbid he drank more and, thus, talked about things that were making Sirius very visibly want to strangle James.

“You just hate fun,” Regulus whined, sticking his bottom lip out in a dramatic pout as James gently took the glass from his hand.

“No, I just care about the state you’ll be in when morning comes around,” James stuck his hand out for Regulus to grab, which he did, though he clearly wasn’t very happy about it. They said their goodnights and went to bed–not before Sirius could curse his best friend out a little, though.

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus microfic #microfic #marauders #dead gay wizards #the marauders #starchaser #james x regulus #regulus x james #james potter x regulus black #james loves regulus

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year ago

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miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons

These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.

Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.

Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)

Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.

He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.

Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—

He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.

If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.

He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...

Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).

Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).

He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.

He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.

He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".

Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—

When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.

Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.

Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.

Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.

I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--

Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.

Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.

Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.

Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—

They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.

For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.

Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.

He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Fellow Honest #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Ferro honest #Gidel #Gidell #disney twisted wonderland #something no one asked for #spoilers #twst x reader #Fellow Honest x Reader #Vil Schoenheit #Ruggie Bucchi #Azul Ashengrotto #curiouser and curiouser #Ernesto Foulworth #Gino

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munsonsmixtapes · 5 months ago

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Hii I love your writing! Could you do friends with benefits with Buck

7. “We need to talk about what happened last night.”

Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

prompt used: “We need to talk about last night.”

cw: MDNI (18+) nipple play

word count: 2k

You found yourself standing outside Buck’s apartment for the third night in a row. As soon as you got off work, you made a beeline for his building. You don’t know how your arrangement started, but the two of you had gotten into such a rhythm that it all was becoming second nature. The second that either of you got off work, you go to the other’s apartment and find yourself getting tangled up in the sheets for hours until it was time to go to sleep.

The cycle repeated itself so often that you didn’t even have to think about where you were going when it was time to go to his. You had gone there so often that someone could have blindfolded you and you could have easily given them directions on how to get there. The same went for his apartment. Not that there was much in it anyway.

You looked down at the wine bottle in your hands, wondering if he was going to like it. You knew that it was his favorite, but now you were second guessing it. For once, your stomach was fluttering with butterflies and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Why were you nervous?

The door opened and you put on your brightest smile as you held the wine out to Buck who took it, a smile appearing on his face as the label. He grabbed onto your waist and pulled you inside, letting the door slam behind you. He pushed you against it and pressed his lips to yours hungrily, like he was fully prepared to absolutely devour you.

He grabbed hold of your wrists and pinned them to the door above your head as he licked into your mouth, letting it roam around it, almost as if he was searching for something specific.

“Did you wear this to work?” He asked, referring to the very transparent top you were wearing. He could see your bra perfectly and didn’t think that was something you were allowed to wear at your job.

“No,” you replied in between kisses. “Changed into it in the car.” He thought it was hot that you got dress just for him.

“Well, as hot as it looks on you, I think it would look a lot better on the floor.” He always had a way with words, always able to make you melt with his filthy mouth. He looked so sweet and innocent, but as soon as you were safe inside one of your apartments, he would turn the dirty talk up to an eleven, always able to leave you speechless.

“I agree.” He let your wrists go and you kept your arms up as he lifted your shirt up over your head in one swift move. The shirt fell to the floor in a messy heap as Buck stared down at your black lacy bra, his fingers reaching up to touch the lace that was attached to the cup.

Buck pulled you away from the door, pressing lips to your chest, peppering it in kisses before moving to the spot right above your breast, giving it a suck. You let out a moan and he took that as an invitation to continue, licking and sucking, loving how he could make you come absolutely undone just from his lips on your skin.

“Yeah? You like that, hm?” He asked against your skin. “Wanna be a little louder for me?” His hand moved to unhook your bra and he let it fall to the floor as he backed you up to the island, leaning you over it so he had better access to your tits. He took your nipple into his mouth and gave it a rough suck, causing you to moan louder than before, giving him exactly what he wanted. His teeth grazed the sensitive spot as you moved your hands up his shirt, leaving scratches down his back as a sign that you were enjoying yourself.

Just as you were about to let out another moan, there was a knock at the door, causing you both to paused, your heads turning to the door then back to each other.

“I thought you said you were free tonight,” you whispered.

“I thought I was. I didn’t invite anyone over, I swear. Get dressed and I’ll get rid of whoever it is.” Buck slowly made his way to the door as you hurried, waiting until you were dressed to open the door to see…Eddie. He hadn’t remembered inviting him over-oh right! They were going to watch a movie and he had completely forgotten.

“Hey, man,” Buck smiled as he took in the man on the other side of the door.

“Hey,” Eddie replied, immediately noticing that Buck was acting weird. Well, more weird than usual. He looked out of breath and his hair was all a mess. Did he…did he have someone over?

Eddie stepped inside with a six pack of beer and couldn’t help but notice the bottle of wine on the table next to the door. He then caught sight of you and nodded to himself as he set the beer down.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I completely forgot.”

“No worries,” he shook his head. The plan wasn’t exactly set in stone, so there was no reason for him to be upset. He stepped closer to you with a bright smile on his face.

“Oh, Eddie, this is y/n, my girlfriend.” Girlfriend? Since when had Buck been seeing anyone? And since when were you Buck’s girlfriend? You were convinced that you just had a friends with benefits kind of thing going on.

“Nice to meet you,” Eddie put his hand out to shake and you took it with a smile.

“You too,” you responded. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“That’s funny, because I’ve heard nothing about you,” Eddie turned to Buck with a glare. He thought their friendship was important enough for Buck to tell him when he was seeing someone.

“Oh, well,” you chuckled nervously. “We were just waiting until we made things official,” you reached out for Buck’s hand and pulled him over to you. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“Don’t worry about it. We can take a rain check. You guys have a nice night.” Eddie winked as he took his beer and turned towards the door. Seeing the way that Buck looked at you, Eddie could tell that he was in love. And that was what Buck deserved. Everyone was leaving him and Eddie wasn’t going to let a silly mix up be the reason for your breakup.

He wanted Buck to be happy and he seemed to be that with you. The happiest Eddie had seen him in a while. He had completely forgotten that he could smile. He seemed to be nothing but bitter since he last break up and Eddie was happy that he finally found someone who would hopefully stick.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You asked, pushing Buck away from you as soon as Eddie shut the door. How could he just introduce you as his girlfriend when you were nothing of the sort?

“I-I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“I’m not your girlfriend, Buck,” you crossed your arms over your chest. But both of you wanted you to be his girlfriend, but neither of you would be the first to admit that. Because this whole arrangement wasn’t supposed to include feelings and you broke the rules, by falling for each other.

“I know that, and I-”

“Save it,” you held your hand up to stop him before grabbing your purse and the wine. You didn’t know why you were so upset with him. Maybe it was because you never would actually be his girlfriend. You would always be the girl he would invite into his sheets and never the one he would introduce to his parents.

You rushed out the door and hurried to the elevator, waiting for Buck to chase after you, but he never did. And that said all you needed to know. Once again, you were falling for someone who didn’t posses feelings for you and now your were embarrassed for the thousandth time. You took one last glance at his door then lowered your head as the elevator doors opened, getting on it and letting it take you to the parking garage. Now you could never show Buck your face ever again.

You woke up to a pounding sound on your door which matched what you were feeling in your head. After you had gotten home, you downed the entire bottle of wine, trying to get drunk enough to forget the whole night. You then fell asleep on your couch, waking up to someone clearly wanting to speak to you with the way they were knocking on the door so hard.

You rolled off the couch and trudged to the door, ripping it open to tell whoever it was to get lost. Your eyes widened as they laid on…Buck? You slammed the door in his face and leaned against, panicking as your heart pounded in your chest.

You then turned around and opened it again, hoping that it was just your mind playing tricks on you and that he wasn’t actually there. It just had to be a hungover hallucination.

And to your surprise, he was still there. Standing on the other side with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. He hadn’t even changed out of what he had worn to bed. That was how desperate he was to see you.

“What do you want?” You asked with a grumble.

“Can I come in?” He asked with a hopeful smile and you couldn’t help but give in, his bright blue eyes always making you want to listen to whatever he was telling you to do.

“If you must,” you moved to the side, letting him in. “Do you want some coffee?” You asked as you made your way to your fridge, pulling out a bottle of cold brew and some creamer.

“No thanks, this will be quick.” He moved to stand next to you, staring right at you when he said his next words. “We need to talk both last night.”

“No thanks,” you shook your head as you grabbed a glass from the cabinet above you. You then poured some coffee into it. “I’d rather not relive the embarrassment.”

“Embarrassment? What are you talking about?”

“God, do I have to spell it out for you, Buckley?” You thought your feelings for him were obvious. But apparently not since he was looking at you confused.

“Yes! Please! Because clearly, I’m lost!” You had never seen him so angry, especially not towards you. He was always so sweet and now you had angered him.

“Fine!” You put the coffee and creamer away, slamming the fridge door once you were done. You then turned to Buck, feeling everything you had ever felt for him rise to the surface.

“You wanna know why I was so upset? Because I love you, Buck!” You hadn’t meant to admit it, but it was already out in the air so you had no choice but to own it. “I love you and watching you lie to your best friend about me being your girlfriend hurt, because all I’ve ever been to you is someone who you invite over when you need a fuck. I’ve tried to make it clear how I feel, but clearly you don’t feel the same way, so I think it’s best if we put and end to whatever this is and you leave.”

You turned to head to your room to get ready for work, but Buck grabbed hold of your wrist, turning you around to face him. His hands moved to your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“The only reason why I told Eddie that you were my girlfriend was because I panicked. I’m not ashamed of you at all. And I don’t see you as just another fuck. I-I want you and I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest with you from the beginning.”

“You want me?”

“Yes,” he breathed, leaning forward so that his lips brushed yours. “All of you. So will you be mine?”

“As long as your mine.” Buck pulled you into a kiss, smiling into it because after months and months of wanting to be yours, he finally was. And you were his right back.

#evan “buck” buckley #evan buckley #evan buckley x fem!reader #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x you #evan buckley fluff #evan buckley smut #evan buckley x reader

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fandomgirlz01 · 23 days ago

Text

Somewhere Out There

Paul {TLB} X Reader

Imagine on fandom instagram?: No

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: No

Style of Writing: Stand Alone Fic (has potential for more in the future though... 😉)

Rating: R for some mature themes such as smoking as well you know the description of a vampire losing it and going absolutely raving mad, like so mad all he sees is red 😉

Edited: Yes

Word count: 4,867

Post Date & Time: November 1st 2024 at 12:16AM

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings Here

Listen to the story be read out loud here.

Summary: Ever since all the vampires have known they and humans alike have a soulmate. The only member of the lost boys who hasn’t found his other half is Paul, but what happens when he does actually find them?

PSA from Faith: This is the first time I am writing for a character from The Lost Boys. I just love both Paul and David as well as Dwayne and Marko. Yet I also love Mike so you might see more of this fandom down the line… maybe. I have loved some of the works that I have read for this fandom, however I did notice there’s not very many where it’s not just centered on one of the boys specifically so I thought I’d give them (especially my favorites) a little attention. I did try to keep some canon and I also went non canon so before any of you guys come at me for it not being all accurate, this is just how I foresaw the boys okay? By the way you do NOT need to have seen the movie to read this fic. Yes it’s based off of the characters, but it will be spoiler free if you choose to watch the movie that is completely up to you guys. That being said I have NEVER written a soulmate AU before so if this isn’t 100% right, I’m sorry, but again this is just how I wanted to depict it all and I just really wanted to try something newish. Thank you and please enjoy the story!

Song that goes with fic:

Many say Santa Carla has its deep dark secrets hidden away in the shadows, and only some know what those secrets are. Just like every night the boardwalk is lit up; couples walk under the moonlight none the wiser to what lurks in the night, others play games and go into the stores or on rides. Shouts of cheer and fright are all surrounding while the vampires make their usual meander all over the boardwalk, senses sharp yet vigilant as they look for anything they can do for a bit of amusement or maybe even find some dinner.

Tonight, however, David notices that Paul seems to wander back behind them, seemingly feeling down which is unusual for the other blond vampire. Paul kicks at the dirt as he finds himself locked in his thoughts once more, thinking about her and what she might just be like. David laughs at something Marko said before telling the baby of the group (a nickname given to him by all the boys because that’s just what Marko is, the baby who everyone wants to protect, the happy-go-lucky spirit of the group and most innocent looking one) to keep going and he’ll catch up to him soon. Marko agrees before skipping off to walk and talk with Dwayne. David watches his brothers for a moment before turning around. He comes up beside Paul and pats him on the back, knowing just what Paul is thinking about.

Ever since the vampires knew they each had a soulmate, all that mattered was when they’d find each other. The only one of the group who hadn’t found his soulmate yet was Paul, and sometimes he’d get discouraged when thinking of it all. When he did, he’d leave the mind link so his brothers didn’t have to hear his incessant inner thoughts, but David knew. He always knows.

“You’ll find her, Paul. I know you will. It’s only a matter of time,” David tells his brother as he pulls him into his side.

“Yeah, but it’s been so long, David. You’ve all found yours. What if I’m not meant to have one?” Paul asks, discouraged once more and David holds back the sigh he wants to let out at having had this conversation a million times before.

“Listen, Paul. I know it feels that way. I used to feel that way before I met Nyra, Dwayne felt that way before meeting Amalie, and Marko felt that way before meeting sweet Charlotte. We’ve all felt that way at one point or another. It’ll pass,” David promises as he squeezes his brother’s shoulder.

“I don’t know, David. It’s been a lot longer for me…” Paul again denies and David clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

“Well, you still have that song title written on your wrist, don’t you?” David asks.

“And you still see all colors, right?” Marko asks as he pops up behind the two, always the one to pop up at random times.

“Yeah. I still have both…” Paul mutters as he holds up his wrist, showing the song title Somewhere Out There, a song by Linda Ronstadt and James Ingram that he knows well.

“See, if you didn’t see color anymore or the song had faded, that’d mean she was dead. The fact you have both is a good thing,” Marko cheerily adds on, slapping him softly on the back and Paul only sighs.

“What if she doesn’t have it? I mean, I’m dead myself,” Paul adds on and David shakes his head, laughing.

“I’ve told you, Paul. I was dead and I still had it all, still do,” David informs him as he thinks of his Nyra and Marko hums in agreement.

“And technically you're not dead, you're undead! Huge difference, buddy,” Marko very pointedly yet happily adds.

“I don’t think being a vampire changes the soulmate laws. I think you’d have to be dead dead, like in the ground dead for that,” Dwayne adds with a shrug as he now jumps in to help comfort his brother.

Nobody really knows all the details about soulmates and the way it works. For centuries, they’ve all just known that it’s a powerful thing that only comes from the universe. People have done studies, but even then they’ve only learned the basics, so people and vampires just go with it, continuously being pulled together.

“Who knows! Maybe you’ll find her tonight!” Marko again happily adds on, not knowing how right he might just be.

“Yeah… maybe…” Paul sighs out, choosing to just agree with them to change the subject.

Each of them always found their other half and David was sure it’d happen for Paul at some point if not sooner than later. Turns out David, Marko and Dwayne were right because as the night went on, they continued to goof off on the boardwalk for a few more hours before suddenly Paul felt different. He couldn’t put a finger on why he felt lighter all of a sudden. He thought for a moment maybe it was the new strain they’d all smoked before the night started, it felt like being high, but at the same time it didn’t feel like the high he was used to.

“Do you guys smell that amazing smell?” he asks, perking up as they ride on the carousel again for the millionth time.

“No. What is it, Paul?” David asks, concern written all over his face until he realizes what’s going on.

“It smells sweet and fresh. Like… like…” Paul struggles to describe the smell that just hit him.

“Like vanilla and cinnamon mixed together. Like… home…” Paul finally mutters as his confusion grows more and more.

“Paul. Follow the scent. Let your nose guide you,” David commands his brother with a growing smile that he shares with the other boys, who catch onto what’s going on.

“What? Me? Why? I suck at catching dinner,” Paul asks, knowing he definitely isn’t the best hunter of the group. More often than not, somehow Paul would lose his prey and Marko is the first to snicker.

“That isn’t dinner you're smelling, Paulie my boy,” David tells him, his own grin growing in happiness for his brother.

“What is it then?” Paul asks, confused and Marko face palms.

“Dude. Just follow it and maybe find out!” Marko shouts as he pulls his hand away from his face and Paul shrugs.

“Okay. What could it hurt?” he asks nobody in particular before doing just as his brothers had said.

He follows the scent, electricity seeming to flow through him, making his toes and fingers tingle the more he moves toward it. The scent grows more and more intoxicating, making him feel more primal than ever before. The sweet smell only calls to him like a siren's call, making his whole body seem to light up.

He continues to follow it, his brothers all flanking him, egging him to keep following it as they protect him while he’s in his unusual focus. The closer he gets to the alluring scent, the thicker it gets in the air. His blood boils though his veins which if he was not so focused, he would have thought that was weird for a vampire, but he could care less at the moment. He continues to follow the scent like he’s a compass needle, looking for its true north until he comes to a stop in front of the music store. He stands there frozen as he looks on at one of the workers, a girl at the counter talking with a customer as she rings them up.

“Welp, Paul, my boy. I’d say you just found yourself your soulmate,” David happily comments as they all watch you from the large opening in the side of the building.

Paul doesn’t answer as he watches you in awe and without knowing it, Paul’s ears activate his vampire hearing so he can hear you. He smiles to himself as the first thing he hears is the music you have playing on the boom box behind you: Somewhere Out There. Then he’s smiling wider as he overhears your conversation, your voice a brand new melody he never wants to forget.

“That’ll be eight dollars, buddy,” you tell the kid who reaches into his pocket.

“Oh. Linda Ronstadt. I love her work,” the kid tells you as he hands you the money and you smile warmly at him.

“I love her too, but this is my favorite song. You wanna know why?” You ask the kid, putting the ten dollars he gave you into the register and without a doubt Paul knows exactly what you’re gonna say.

“It’s mine and my soulmate's song, see,” you happily tell the kid after he nods and you hold out your wrist.

“Wow! You and your soulmate must really be meant for one another then,” the kid tells you and you grin even more as you go back to getting his change.

“Here's your two dollars back. Have fun listening to that tape,” you tell him as you reach out and hand him his money.

Meanwhile, Paul still stands frozen, just staring at you in awe. His brothers all stand around him, smirking as they watch the lovesick look that he’s had to watch on all their faces wash over his own face now.

“Well, aren’t you going to go over and say hi…?” Marko asks, nudging Paul a little bit, but again Paul doesn’t speak back, so entranced with watching you.

You watch the little boy leave until he walks around the corner and then feel someone’s eyes on you, so you look around until your eyes land on Paul. The two of you make eye contact and stare at one another for a few minutes before he seemingly snaps out of the moment and walks away looking sad. You don’t know why (well actually that’s a lie, you have an inkling as to why, but you shrug it off) but you feel sad that he seems sad and wish you could just give him a hug. With a shake of your head, you decide to leave it be seeing as he was with a group of what seemed to be friends that could comfort him and just go back to work.

“Paul?” David asks as Paul starts to hastily walk away, moving faster and faster by the minute, heading for his bike and his brothers follow after him in confusion.

“Paul? What’s wrong? That’s your soulmate, buddy. You gotta go say hi!” Marko tries but Paul shakes his head, seemingly angry now.

“No, I don’t,” he almost practically seeths out before kicking his kick stand up and starting his bike up.

The three brothers watch on in confusion as he rides off and once he’s gone, Marko turns to David. David stands there with arms crossed, trying to figure out what would have spooked him.

“You’d think he would have been happy. He’s been waiting for this moment for centuries…” Marko comments in utter disbelief and confusion.

“You would think so,” Dwayne comments next, breaking David out of his thoughts.

“Let’s go find him,” David commands before getting onto his bike with the others following suit and getting onto their own bikes.

Together they all ride out to the cliff side where they know Paul goes when he wants some peace and quiet. Sure enough, they find him there sitting on his bike and smoking another rolled cigarette with his head low.

“Paul?” David asks in an attentive tone, which is unusual for the vampire who’s normally commanding and stern.

No matter how cold, commanding and stern as he can seem or be, he still cares for his brothers, all three of them. David, Marko and Dwayne slowly get closer to him, if anyone was watching them right now, they would be surprised to see vampires of all creatures being soft on one another, but again Paul is their brother. They found each other and became family and as David likes to say, family comes first.

“Paul, what’s wrong?” Marko softly asks again out of character.

“What’s wrong? Ha! What’s wrong?!” Paul retorts in what sounds like disbelief, rolling his eyes at the question.

“She’s human! I can’t go near her. I’ll hurt her and I could never ask her to become one of us and… and…” Paul trails off, taking a gulp as he now tries to hold his tears back.

“It’d ruin her beauty, man…” Paul sadly mutters, shaking his head in anger.

“And to ask her to give up her life. Just to be with me. I can’t… I won’t…” Paul chokes on his words before lowering his head, refusing to look at his brothers.

“Paul. How do you know that isn’t what she’d want? You gotta at least try to fight for her,” Marko comments with a frown, sad for his brother.

“I don’t care if that’s what she’d want, Marko! She’s my soulmate! It’s my job to protect her! How do I do that the way I am?! Huh?!” he shouts in his brother's face, anger running through him as he heaves while Marko takes a step back.

“How do I protect her from myself, huh, Marko?? Tell me that one,” he continues to let his anger take over before he sighs, turning around.

“But if you love her that much already, then you couldn’t hurt her. You’re only hurting yourself by not reaching out to her,” Marko continues to try and convince Paul, who scoffs again, shaking his head as he flicks his joint away.

“No. I’m protecting her. My pain is a small price compared to if she were to be hurt,” Paul mutters softly before he shrugs halfheartedly.

“I’ll meet you guys back home at the cave,” Paul softly promises before kicking his kick stand up and starting the bike back up.

“Dude needs to calm the heck down,” Marko comments as they all watch him drive away.

“He’s just blinded by the shock of her being human. He’ll come around eventually. Paul always does, he likes to stew in his thoughts, ya know,” Dwayne comments back and Marko laughs in agreement.

“Yeah. For being the wild carefree guy he is, he definitely is too broody sometimes. And people say you're the broody one,” Marko adds on with a roll of his eyes and Dwayne nods in agreement, chuckling along.

“Hey. I’m most definitely the broody one. Paul is the crackhead. He smokes more than any of us…” Dwayne practically complains, making Marko laugh some more.

“Awe, jealous that your place will be taken?” Marko taunts and Dwayne crosses his arms across his chest.

“At least I don’t get called the baby…” Dwayne argues back with a smirk when Marko shyly grins, proving his point.

“I actually don’t mind it…” Marko replies with a shrug and Dwayne shakes his head at him.

“Of course you don’t,” Dwayne chuckles out and David reaches up to grab onto both of their shoulders, giving a light squeeze.

“Okay. Okay. That’s enough, you two. Come on, We’ll just leave him be for now. He’ll reach out though the link should he need us. For now, let’s go find dinner for ourselves,” David commands with a roll of his eyes at their play fighting. He still worries for Paul, but he knows he just needs time to come to terms with everything.

“You got it, big D,” Marko jokes and Dwayne holds back the laugh he wants to let out at David’s annoyed look.

This is how it always was with the brothers. Dwayne is definitely more silent and broody when others are around and Marko is the innocent curious one. David is leader and commander while Paul is the crackhead that will jump to do anything, yet Paul has always been the most in touch with his emotions, hence why he smokes.

Meanwhile, as his brothers go on the hunt for dinner, Paul finds himself back at the boardwalk and sits on the beach, just watching the waves. He can still smell that intoxicating scent that he now knows is all you, so very strong that it makes him want more and more of it. He keeps his eyes closed, listening to you talk to all kinds of different customers that come and go. Soon before he knows it, you're closing up shop, saying goodbye to your coworker that stands with you as you pull down the door and lock it up tight. It’s only then he realizes all the loudness and craziness that normally surrounds the boardwalk is now quiet.

He watches as you turn and you pull your headphones that had been resting around your neck up to your ears. He then starts to follow you, but stays in the shadows just watching over you. At first you look around like you're weary of something or someone being around, but you shrug nonchalantly and continue to walk. He watches over you with pure adoration rolling off of him, yet he also stays vigilant in case someone or something were to harm you. However if anyone saw the way he follows you, they’d probably say he follows like a lost puppy.

Finally after a long walk down the beach, you walk up the stairs to a door and open it before heading inside which makes him realize it’s probably your home. He stays for a while, just sitting on the bottom step, not fully ready to leave you just yet. Eventually the sun starts to rise, so he reluctantly leaves you safe in your apartment and heads home back to the cave. When he walks in, it’s only then he realizes he hadn’t eaten, so taken with making sure you were safe to even really care. He walks further in and finds David sitting in his wheelchair he loves so much.

“Did you eat, Paul?” David asks with a raised eyebrow and Paul shakes his head.

“I, uh… forgot…” he mutters, thinking David would be mad, but he’s surprised when David just smiles.

“It’s okay. We saved you some. Did you figure out what you want to do?” David asks and Paul sighs once more.

“I’m going to leave her be. That’s it,” Paul tells him and David sighs, sitting forward.

“Paul. The universe will never let you stay away from her. You might be able to resist for a while, but eventually something will pull the two of you together,” David tells him in a pointed tone. He tries to be soft on him even though he wants to just command him to go talk to her or have max sire him to do it, but David won’t do that, he knows Paul has to choose to go to her himself.

“It’s whatever, David. I’m going to eat and go to sleep,” Paul responds, shrugging before disappearing toward where they store their food sometimes.

David frowns as he watches his brother disappear before sighing and shaking his head. David stands slowly from the chair before going and joining Dwayne and Marko as well as all their soulmates in sleeping from the rafter, knowing Paul will join once he’s finished eating.

Three months have gone by now and every night, David seems to notice that at a certain point in the night Paul will just simply disappear. Where Paul disappears to, David thinks he knows, but he doesn’t want to try and interfere and so he lets him do his thing.

Once again Paul sits in the sand, watching the waves and just listens to you the whole night. He’d come to realize that your voice is more calming to him then even a joint could be, so he just sits there and listens. Like every night since that first night he’d sat there listening to you and enjoying a peace he never knew he needed until you close up shop. Without fail every single night for the past three months, he waits until you have your headphones on and then he stays in the shadows as he follows you home, just wanting you safe. However, tonight something feels off and Paul just can’t figure it out.

He’s been trying to figure out why your scent that’s so alluring to him seems off, but he can’t place why. He’s in such deep thought about it that he doesn’t clock the two surfer nazi’s creeping up from the other side. It’s when the one guy grabs you and pulls you into the dark under the boardwalk that Paul is alerted. He quickly follows after and finds one of the surfer nazi’s holding you struggling against the cement wall while the other one seemingly watches.

“I told you earlier I’d find you and we’d have some fun,” the surfer nazi holding you growls as you continue to squirm and fight him.

“And I said I didn’t want to. I do have a soulmate, ya know?!” You shout out and for a minuscule minute Paul stops to wonder if you’ve known he’s been around, but he shakes his head clear.

“And I said I don’t care. Now stay still,” the surfer nazi commands out though a growl and when you don’t do as he says, he reaches up to smack you, fear falling over your face.

Paul, however, feels his veins boil and an anger he’s never ever felt before washes over him. All he sees is red as he transforms into his vampire self and pulls the first guy off to the side, snapping his neck in the process before pulling the second guy off of you. You watch on as he pulls the guy away and punches him down before crouching over him. He bares his fangs before sinking his teeth into the guy's throat and ripping at it. When he’s satisfied that the guy is good and gone, he stands, heaving for breath, blood all over his face. Suddenly though, like breaking through a fog, his anger dissipates and he turns to look at you.

You sit there against the sand, staring at the scene in front of you and he immediately rushes over. He crouches down next to you, shielding your view of the carnage behind him.

“Hey. You okay?” he asks softly and all you do is nod as you stare at him with wide eyes, making him think you're scared when you're more in awe.

“I’m sorry if I scared you at all, but I promise I am of no threat to you,” he quickly informs you, hoping it’ll help calm your fear, but he’s shocked when you softly smile at him.

“I’m not scared of you, far from it actually…” you pause, trailing off to bite at your lip.

“I was actually wondering when you’d come out of the shadows and talk to me,” you shyly admit, a blush on your cheeks now and a warm fuzzy feeling takes over Paul’s stomach.

“It, uh, it was about time…” he admits almost shyly himself even though he’s shocked that you knew he'd been there all along.

“I take it, you know who I am then?” he asks and you grin, nodding.

“You’re that cute guy I saw a few months back standing on the beach,” you tell him, not quite sure if he knows about the two of you being soulmates or not.

“I’m uh, y/n. Thank you for saving me…” you shyly continue and he shakes his head.

“I’m Paul, and there’s really no reason to thank me,” he responds with a shrug as he gives you his name in return.

“Hello, Paul, it’s very nice to meet you,” you joke with him and he chuckles, not being able to help but just adore you.

“Here. I’ll walk you home,” he starts as he stands before holding a hand out for you.

“So basically what you’ve been doing for the last three months, only I can actually talk with you now?” You jokingly ask in faux shock and he playfully yet bashfully rolls his eyes.

“I had my reasons-” he shrugs before you place your hand in his and his sentence gets cut off with a halted breath as the two of you stand.

He’s stunned by just how easily your hand fits in his like a puzzle piece and how warm you are. You look up at him, making real eye contact for the first time and as he looks into your eyes, his whole center seems to shift once more as an all consuming love for you just flows through him.

“Are you okay, Paul?” You ask as you reach up and rub his cheek, trying to get some of the blood off, shocking him even more.

“No. Yeah, I’m okay,” he tells you although he so badly wants to kiss you, but before he can he’s shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thought.

“Come on. Let’s get you safe at home,” he fully breaks the tension now, ruining the moment and you frown before nodding as the two of you start to walk.

Hey, boys. There’s food on the beach if you want it. He reaches out to his brothers though the mind link they share before you nudge him as the two of you walk.

“So are you the only one I’m safe with? Or is your whole group supposed to like, protect me now?” You joke, but Paul can tell it’s a serious question that you want answered.

“Nah… No vampire will hurt you. Not with me around now. Definitely not from my pack anyway. You’ve kinda already been adopted into the family,” he informs you and you give him a confused look like you're not fully getting it.

“You’re part of this family whether you decide to change or not…” he tells you while trying to hide the fact he knows your soulmates.

“Why?” You ask, egging him on hoping he’ll say it first and he pauses for a moment, trying to decide if he wants to tell you or not.

“Well umm… because you're my soulmate,” he shyly admits, he’d probably start blushing if vampires could and you let out a giggle, making him look at you in shock.

“Oh, my sweet Paul. I knew… you really thought I wouldn’t know? Especially when you’ve been following me home every night like a lost puppy. I knew it the moment our eyes first met,” you pointedly tell him with a proud smile.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me then?” he asks and you pause to purse your lips.

“Well you walked away looking rather sad and I just wanted to give you a hug, but your friends-”

“Brothers,” he corrects you and you smile softly at him.

“You were with your brothers,” you amend your first words with a shrug before going on.

“I assumed you just were shocked by finding me and you’d come talk to me eventually but you never did. I assumed you just didn’t know how to approach me,” you explain to him as you show him your wrist proudly with the words he knows so well written in matching ink: Somewhere Out There.

“No. I wanted to. Believe me, I did so badly, but my fears of what I am got in the way of it all. I’m sorry,” he explains before looking away in shame.

“It’s okay. We all let the fear get the best of us sometimes, but I’m glad we’ve finally actually met,” you tell him as you stop in place to turn to him and reach up to touch his cheek, not really caring about the blood.

“Even with the circumstances of how we met?” he asks you with a raised eyebrow and you let out a giggle that sounds heavenly to his ears.

“Yes. Even with the circumstances of it all,” you tell him and he shakes his head at you in disbelief before grinning at you.

“Yeah. Again I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect you, even from myself,” he says and he grimaces at himself after saying it.

“Paul. It’s really okay. I’m just glad we're together now. We are, right?” You ask, scared he’ll leave you at your apartment and never come back.

“Babe, I couldn’t leave now even if I tried,” he charmingly tells you with a grin taking over his face.

“Good, because I wouldn’t want you to,” you grin now too, happy to be on the same page.

That's how the night ends, with you and Paul now walking hand in hand in the moonlight. Paul can’t help but to think just how right his brothers had been, if only he’d talked to you that very first night this could have been the two of you every night for the last three months. But Paul refuses to think any further about it and can’t help but smile the whole way as he walks you to your apartment. He leaves you there knowing you’ll be safe, promising to see you tomorrow night and together you both know this is the start to an even more beautiful story for the two of you to tell in the future.

The End...

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captainsophiestark · 28 days ago

Text

Just The Two Of Us

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Requested by @ghostofskywalker! Hope you like it bestie! This was very fun to write :)

Fandom: Marvel

Day Nineteen Prompt: "This is getting ridiculous."

Summary: Wanda and her SO have put in a TON of work to finally get a date night off, alone, without interruption. But, like most things, it doesn't work out exactly according to plan.

Word Count: 1,828

Category: Fluff, Humor, little bit of Angst?

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Alright. This is going to be the pefrect, quiet romantic evening the two of us have been needing. No Avengers, chaotic family members, or world-ending threats to interrupt us."

I made the promise to reassure myself as much as my girlfriend, Wanda Maximoff, as I squeezed her hand and led the way into the gorgeous (and very private) restaurant I'd picked for our date night. We'd barely seen each other lately with various Avengers/SHIELD/adjacent responsibilities, so we'd both found a way to clear our calendars for an extended date night tonight. I'd volunteered to plan it, and Wanda had ensured nobody scheduled anything for us that would overlap on timing.

"Sounds perfect," Wanda said, leaning in to speak quietly in my ear as we reached the hostess stand. I gave her hand another squeeze and shot a little smile back over my shoulder, which was exactly the moment everything went to shit.

"No way," I hissed, scowling as my eyes locked onto a couple chatting at one of the tables overlooking the city. Wanda frowned, and then her gaze followed mine.

Goddamn Tony Stark. He was here on a date with Pepper. While I normally liked both of them, tonight was specifically designed for Wanda and I to take a break from the Avengers and all the challenges that came with them.

"It might not matter," Wanda whispered to me. "We can just ask for a table on the opposite end of the restaurant."

As if she'd conjured it, Tony chose that moment to glance in our direction. I groaned internally as he pointed us out to Pepper, and she turned around, giving Wanda and I a bright smile when she saw us. I did my best to return it, although it probably looked more like a grimace.

Tony waved us over, and I resisted the urge to scowl. I could swear I heard Wanda huff a laugh behind me as she pulled me towards the pair.

"Come on," she said, a grin on her face. "No way out of it now."

I hummed, but didn't resist. Really, how could I?

"Fancy meeting you two here!" Tony called as we reached his table. To my horror, he then turned and tried to wave for a waitress. "Let's pull up a pair of chairs, you two can join us."

"Oh, we wouldn't want to interrupt you guys..." I started, but Tony immediately waved me off.

"You're not, don't worry."

I turned to Pepper, and she'd just started to speak with a smile on her face when Wanda broke in with a gasp. I turned to find her staring at her phone with wide-eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she said, looking up at the two of us. "I just got a message from Pietro. We have to go."

My heart sank. Figures, we couldn't get a second alone either way. Run into people we know and get roped into joining them, or have something come up no matter how hard Wanda worked to prevent it.

We quickly said our goodbyes, Tony and Pepper insisting we plan something for the four of us to do together to make up for the interruption, then quickly headed out of the restaurant. I sighed as we made it to the parking lot.

"Alright, so is Pietro at the Tower or is he somewhere else?"

"I don't know."

I stopped short, turning back to Wanda. She just stared back at me after giving a little shrug. I frowned.

"What do you mean you don't know? Did he not tell you where he is? What was he messaging you for?"

"He didn't text me."

I frowned, not sure at first what she was trying to tell me, then my jaw dropped once an idea clicked. Wanda finally gave me a grin.

"When you say he didn't text you..."

"I mean I made up an excuse so we could leave and keep our date night interrupted. That was my job for this whole night, remember?"

I laughed, all the disappointment fading away as bright sparks of joy burst in my chest. I stepped forward and pulled Wanda into a kiss.

"You are amazing. Do you know that?"

"I do. But I don't mind hearing it."

We shared another laugh, and then I took Wanda's hand.

"Alright, let's get out of here. I've got a lot more than just dinner planned for us tonight, and even better, we can also get food at date location number two."

"Sounds perfect to me."

****************

After a brief walk, Wanda and I found ourselves in the middle of the most perfect, movie-level boardwalk I could find. We'd immediately gotten fair food, since we'd missed dinner at the restaurant, and now we were strolling down the alley of carnival games arm in arm.

"Well, we had a rocky start, but I think we managed to save our night," I said, absolutely beaming as Wanda and I took in the bright lights.

"I agree. This is absolutely perfect."

I turned to share a smile with her, and almost perfectly on cue, I heard familiar voices shouting from just a few booths down. I grimaced, but I didn't really have a choice but to turn and look over her shoulder.

I thought it was a hallucination at first, or maybe Loki was messing with us just for fun. But no. They were really here.

At the look on my face, Wanda turned slowly, too, to find Steve Rogers bowling pitches at carnival pins. Standing next to him and cheering him on were Bucky, Peter, and Shuri. She sighed at the same time I groaned.

"Did everyone choose tonight to go out?" she asked with a laugh. I threw my hands up and huffed.

"Apparently they did! This is ridiculous."

Wanda had a grin on her face, but apparently my exclamation had drawn some attention. The mini Avengers group started to turn in our direction, but I didn't let them finish the move before dragging Wanda after me and behind the row of carvinal booths. We slammed our backs against it, keeping quiet and still, and after a few moments I felt fairly confident we'd avoided our friends.

I felt a little bad, but not bad enough to go back out there and say hello.

"What's the plan?" Wanda whispered to me. I shot her a look, since we both knew whispering was excessive, but she just grinned at me.

"The plan is to get the hell out of here, get some ice cream, and go for a nice, peaceful walk on the beach without any of our friends interrupting us."

Wanda laughed again, the sound easing my nerves and loosening the frustration knotting in my chest. She slipped her hand into mine with a smile, and my heart did a backflip.

"Sounds great to me."

****************

Wanda and I had to duck and dodge a little bit to leave the boardwalk without being spotted, but our friends weren't looking for us, and we were both trained enough to manage just fine. We swung by the cute ice cream place I'd been looking forward to visiting, then took off our shoes and strolled through the surf together. We talked, laughed, and relaxed exactly like we'd been trying to all night.

At least, we did for about ten minutes. After ten minutes, we noticed another couple walking in our direction from further down the beach. I didn't recognize the woman headed our way, but I'd recognize the shock of light blond hair anywhere after dating its owner's sister for so long.

"This is getting ridiculous," I sighed, coming to a stop. Wanda gave me a concerned look, then followed my gaze and found her brother headed in our direction. Because of course he was.

"What is he doing here?" Wanda huffed, her voice showing irritation for the first time tonight. I just sighed again.

"Who knows? Maybe there's some big conspiracy to ruin our date night tonight."

"Well, whatever it is... do you mind if I suggest a plan alternative?"

I deflated a little as Pietro got closer to us. I'd been so determined to plan the perfect date night for the two of us, and my plans had been foiled at nearly every step. Although, to be fair, I guess Wanda's had too. She'd worked so hard to get everyone to do something else for the night so they wouldn't bother us, and it definitely hadn't worked out how she'd been planning.

I took a deep breath and shook off my irritation. I turned away from Pietro, who'd apparently noticed us and was now heading in our direction with a smile, and met Wanda's eyes. I smiled.

"I think a plan alternative is exactly what we need right now."

Wanda gave me a smirk that made my heart race, then wrapped an arm around me and pulled me towards her. She raised her free hand, since she'd finished her ice cream before we'd seen Pietro, and with a little chaos magic we lifted gently into the air.

"Hey!"

Wanda ignored Pietro's shout, and I almost did the same, until Pietro appeared below us in an instant thanks to his super speed.

"Where do you two think you're going? You don't want to say hi to your bro-"

He stopped short as I hurled the remainder of my ice cream cone at him. My aim was dead on, and he clearly wasn't expecting it, to the point that even his superspeed couldn't save him. It landed dead center on his shirt, and his outraged shout was enough to make both me and Wanda laugh.

Wanda and I went up, up, and up, until we were into the clouds. Thanks to a little help from her magic, we didn't get too cold, and even better, nobody that we knew would be able to see us up here. When we finally dropped back down again, it was at the top of one of the tallest peaks in a closed park at the edge of the city, giving us a perfect view and perfect privacy. We touched down gently, but Wanda didn't take her arm away from my waist.

"So... what do you think of this?"

"Perfect," I said with a grin, bringing my arms up to rest on her shoulders. I leaned in, giving Wanda a soft kiss, then resting my forehead against hers. The night was beautiful and peaceful around us, exactly what we'd been working so hard to find.

The two of us found a nice spot at the base of one of the trees to settle in, leaning against each other and looking out at the sparkling lights of the city. Wanda's arm rested across my shoulder while I wrapped one of mine around her waist. I'm not sure how long we sat like that, just enjoying our space alone, together. By all rights, we both should've been exhausted at some point, but the privacy was so rare and refreshing that we stayed up there to watch the sunrise. Our night may not have started exactly the way we'd planned it, but it had ended absolutely perfectly.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

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dailydragon08 · 7 months ago

Note

I'd love to read about the Falcon gang realizing Luke has a crush on you, and I'm clumsily trying to hide it from them

I love this prompt so much, thank you for the ask! Sorry this one got away from me a little bit, I just really love writing about Luke with a crush/pining Luke.

My masterlist is linked in the pinned post on my page! Don’t forget, if you like the fic, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Let’s start with Luke and what he’s doing. I don’t know if I would say he’s really going out of his way to try and “hide” his crush from you specifically, per se, but he’s also not shouting it from the rooftops. I could see all eras of Luke not really minding if you figure it out, just so you could maybe talk about it and see if being together is something you’d be interested in. But all eras of him tread a bit carefully at first (in my mind, ESB Luke is the most bold while ROTJ Luke is the most careful), just doing little things or sometimes purposefully giving little hints here and there to kind of test the waters and see how you react, if you like what he’s doing, if you’re starting to get more comfortable around him, etc. But oh boy, does he really want to hide it from the Falcon Gang – at least until he figures out how you feel and what path you’re taking forward. For one, he doesn’t want to annoy or burden them by constantly talking/asking about you, and for another, he wants to take things at his own pace and doesn’t want any of them to try and interfere to speed things up lest you get spooked and run the other direction. The older he is, the more he also worries about how being with him could put a target on your back and wants to make sure you can protect yourself and/or he’s able to protect you.

How clumsily he hides his crush on you would really depend on the era that he’s in. ANH Luke is the most likely to trip over himself, get caught most often staring at you with the biggest puppy eyes, and is always the first to rush forward and help you with something with an excited “I’ve got it!” He’s also most likely to let a compliment slip out that he thought was only in his head, then look a bit like a deer in the headlights when he realizes that was out loud. Once the rest of the gang figures it out, this era of Luke will talk the most openly (not completely spilling every thought in his brain, but just the most willing to talk at all about it) and ask the most questions about whether or not you’ve said anything to them or given them any clues as to your feelings.

ESB Luke is, like I’ve said in previous posts, a bit better about hiding his feelings, but it’s very obvious to those who know him. He still gets caught staring at you often and isn’t the best at looking away before you make eye contact with him. Now that he’s got more combat and Force-related skills under his belt, he’s a bit more protective of you (he always was, but now even more so because of his newfound confidence and rank) and is the most prone to jealousy out of his three eras. I could see both ANH and ESB versions of him going out of their way to try and impress you (and sometimes comically failing) if it seems like someone else is trying to catch your attention. Once he’s found out, he’s a bit more close-lipped, but will admit to liking you and being unsure how you feel about him. He’ll talk for a few minutes at a time about all the things he likes about you before saying he’d just like to take it slow and see where this whole thing naturally goes, but then that’s the end of the conversation.

ROTJ/post-ROTJ Luke is a bit more settled in who he is as a person, what’s happened to him, and who his father is, but he’s still going through a lot. How he handles his crush will really depend on exactly where in ROTJ he is. Between saving Han, finishing his training with Yoda and staying by his deathbed, finding out Leia is his sister, and knowing there’s a strong possibility that he’ll die facing Vader and the emperor, he’s got a ton on his shoulders. For this reason, I could see him becoming more distant because – despite still having strong feelings for you – he’s afraid to get involved and then leave you heartbroken if something happens to him. That, along with Obi-Wan’s ghost telling him to “bury his feelings deep down” and honor the original order’s no attachment rule, he’s also a bit confused on what his future will even look like and if having a crush will even be an avenue open to him. It’s my personal headcanon that post-ROTJ, as he learns more about who he is, the kind of jedi he wants to be, the kind of order he wants to cultivate, and the importance of connection and how it’s different than possession, he decides to do away with the no attachment rule and make teaching about connection (healthy) vs. possession (unhealthy) part of the jedi training. He did save his father because of their attachment, after all. So this era of Luke is the most likely to let himself really experience a crush and falling in love for the first time, in my opinion. He takes things slow and still gives you little hints here and there vs. big, grand gestures – but he also is doing things with the intent of letting you know how he feels while patiently waiting for you to either return the gestures/initiate a talk about your feelings whenever you’re ready, or is watching for signs that you’re not into what he’s doing. He’ll be sad, of course, but he’ll respect your wishes.

Whew, okay, I didn’t realize I had so much to say, sorry. Moving on…

Leia is the first to realize what’s going on. Even if she hasn’t realized she’s Luke’s twin or Force-sensitive yet, she’s always been very in tune with him. If she knows you well, she’s shipping the two of you much earlier in the process and practically banging her head into a wall when Luke says he’s unsure if you return his feelings when to her, it couldn’t be more obvious. In this case, she wants so badly for him to just be direct about his feelings so you can make use of every second you have in your crazy lives, but she lets him make his own decisions. If she doesn’t know you that well, she’s keeping her eye on you to determine whether your interest in him is genuine and not just because of his fame, power, and accomplishments. As she gets to know you better, she comes around. In both situations, she’s doing whatever she can to play subtle wingwoman – especially with her rank within the rebellion, she’s making sure you two are on missions together as much as possible, your rooms are close to each other, you both always happen to have the same days off every time, she’s slipping little comments in to him about what your favorite things are, your hobbies, likes/dislikes, etc. If he really does want to take his time, Leia makes sure he’s armed with all the knowledge to best make use of it. Even though she’s chomping at the bit for you two to get together, she does still try to be (or at least, start out) gentle when she gives Luke advice or asks if he’d like to talk about you or his feelings, and is always combating Han’s horrible dating advice with reminders that he just do whatever comes naturally to him with what he knows about you – because at the end of the day, if you can’t like him for who he naturally is, then there’s no point to any of this.

Han’s reaction depends a bit on Luke’s age. The younger he is, the more obnoxious and frequent Han’s teasing is. Especially if it’s before he and Leia get together, he’ll make comments to Luke about whether he thinks you’d make a good SO for him, or he’ll flirt with you when it’s just the three of you just to ruffle Luke’s feathers. As they both get older and become closer though, the teasing will die down a bit to comments about how Han notices Luke’s doe eyed-stare, suggests you won’t be single forever, and of course, gives the worst dating advice that have Leia and Lando face-palming so hard in the background. Especially once Luke becomes a jedi knight, really the most he’ll get is a gentle elbow in the ribs with some wiggled eyebrows, maybe followed by some prompting to go talk to you when you’re standing/sitting alone. At the end of the day, he really does just want his friend to be happy. Like Leia, if he doesn’t know you well, he’s watching you extra closely for a bit and maybe even trying to get to know you better himself so he can determine whether you’re a good match. Despite his devil may care attitude, Han is very attentive to his friends and is aware of all the pain Luke’s been through – that being said, he doesn’t want to watch him go through potential heartbreak after all that either. Again though, like Leia, he eventually comes around and counts you as one of the Falcon gang – although he’s a bit more oblivious to when you two are having a moment and the others sometimes have to comedically yoink him out of a room before he interrupts and ruins it.

Although Lando also wants the best for Luke, he doesn’t know him or his background that well, so isn’t as protective. However, if you’re a newcomer, Lando is the most immediately welcoming of the group and can tell you’ll be a great addition – whether you and Luke get together or not. Lando is very astute when it comes to listening and watching and waiting for the right moment – so of course, he picks up on the subtle yearning glances, the slight blushes, compliments, any sort of physical affection Luke is willing to throw your way, how much more gentle he suddenly becomes with you (he was already gentle before, but he’s somehow even softer when you’re around), the way his face lights up when you walk into a room, etc. He clocks it immediately and at first, just lets it be since he doesn’t want to pry. Eventually though, when he and Luke get a moment alone, Lando makes a comment about how great you are to gage the jedi’s reaction and how willing he is to talk about it. He strikes me as a great listener and is very validating to all Luke’s feelings and concerns, but gently reminds him that someone like you won’t be single forever and does he really want to live with that regret of watching you get with someone else when he was never brave enough to really make a move? After this conversation, he immediately goes to Leia ready to make the Ultimate Wingman Gameplan and is ready with his full resources, funds, and even wardrobe to make whatever needs to happen a success. He and Leia may or may not orchestrate some “oops, we’re stuck in x situation together” happenings, or invite you two to things like fancy Rebellion/New Republic gatherings where they split up and help the two of you get ready in ways that wow the other, etc.

Once Chewie (platonic) realizes you’re not a threat to one of his closest friends, the two of you become his OTP. He has a sneaking suspicion, but is usually busy with Han and/or fixing yet another part of the Falcon that broke, so isn’t around as much to collect evidence and the others have to fill him in. Not many people can understand his language, so there’s not really a risk of him spilling the beans. But he’s 100% doing little things here and there to meddle, like pulling you both into a giant group hug and squishing you together, pitching the Falcon while he pilots so you fall backwards into Luke’s lap, bumping into one of you so you’re now standing or sitting close together, physically pushing Luke towards you with a grumble in Shyriiwook, etc.

R2 has to be the one to explain what’s going on to C-3PO (platonic). At first, the protocol droid goes, “wait, what do you mean?” But once he figures it out, everyone has to reach to cover his mouth as he starts to cry in the middle of the busy hangar, “oh my goodness! That’s wonderful to hear that Master Luke fancies mph-hmmphh-umph-mmmm!” To be honest, no one really wanted to tell him in the first place because he’s so bad at keeping his mouth shut, but 3PO overheard some comment someone else was making and just wouldn’t stop asking questions. Cue everyone constantly covering 3PO’s mouth until you and Luke get together, as he almost makes comments and spills the secret many times – and sometimes, they just shut him off mid-sentence. He’s not allowed to be alone with you again until after the two of you get together, but when it’s just him and R2, he’s constantly raving about how he’d love for his master to be happy and how he’s using this to study what two humans who are interested in each other romantically do. Of course, he’s been programmed to know about it, but seeing it in real time is fascinating to him and is where the majority of his comments that almost get him in trouble come from.

R2-D2 (platonic), like Chewie, can’t really rat Luke out verbally – but also follows the Wookiee’s example and meddles to get you two closer faster. He even stole Chewie’s methods of bumping into one of you from behind to get you stumbling into each other’s arms and pitching the ship so Luke has to catch you before you fall. When he’s really feeling like a little shit, he’s been known to lock the two of you in tight spaces together for an extended period of time. When one of you gets injured or needs help, he always immediately rushes to find the other, even if there are other people close by who could help – and sometimes even blows things a little out of proportion just to get you two alone together. Like he’ll rush to tell Luke you’re trying to get something up from a high shelf and are about to fall and Luke runs in to find your footstool the tiniest bit wobbly, but otherwise stable while you’re not even that far off the ground.

Taglist: @kaleidoscope1967eyes @masterlukessaber @coffeeorsomething-irl @eveningserenityyy @victorian-nymph @lxstfathier @rogue-kenobi @lavandula-ipsum @sonofthedunes @pomplalamoose @lex-the-flex @ilovemarkhamill

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cursedonyx · 23 days ago

Note

Hii! I saw your ideas for one shots you posted recently and I would absolutely LOVE to read all of them, but especially the one with Ominis, where Garreth slips Ominis his new potion and MC is helping Ominis with its 'hard' effects ��

So if you have time and if you'd want to write it, I would love to read it! ❤️

I have FINALLY gotten around to doing this ask, and as I’d had this in my drafts for ages I thought why not make it an eleventh-hour post for Kinktober too? I would have done more for Kinktober but, like our favourite old faithful that hasn’t been charged in a while, my smut battery was firmly depleted for quite some time.

This doesn’t follow any specific Kinktober prompt, but what the hell, hopefully you all enjoy this little tale of poor Ominis being utterly humiliated and thoroughly fucked.

Masterlist

Don’t Drug Your Friends

(Unless They’re Ominis and in Need of a Good Fucking)

Synopsis – After a multitude of experimental potions and a variety of undesirable effects, no one at Hogwarts wants to be a guineapig for Garreth’s new brews. In desperation, Garreth resorts to underhanded methods in order to test his newest concoction, and slips it into Ominis’ tea. Unfortunately for the poor Heir of Slytherin, the effects are both humiliating and unconquerable until the woman he’s secretly been in love with for the last two years offers to help put the proverbial basilisk back to sleep.

Word Count – 4.9k

Warnings – Female MC, House unspecified, NSFW, MDNI, dubcon, drugging, masturbation, handjob M!Receiving, oral M!Receiving, PIV, and a very embarrassed and needy Sub!Ominis.

All characters aged 18+.

Happy Kinktober.

Springtime at Hogwarts was a time for most students to pretend they were studying, as they instead dreamt about who they were going to ask on a date to Hogsmeade for Valentines, gossiped about the latest scandals, or got hyped for Quidditch. For the seventh years, it was a time to begin to panic about their upcoming exams and pretend they weren’t.

For Garreth Weasley, it was more a struggle than for most. Since the end of sixth year, when he’d convinced Lucan Brattleby to try his latest potion, and the poor lad had ended up in the Hospital Wing with scales, feathers, and the ability to burp luminous, sausage-like bubbles that took days to pop, the entirety of Gryffindor House had put a blanket ban on accepting so much as a biscuit from him. The other houses learned very quickly after this that no matter how much gold he offered, no matter how many favours, no matter how much he begged, it just wasn’t worth spending a week in hospital for.

But Garreth knew the only way to discover ✨The Perfect Potion™✨ was to practice, practice, practice, and in order to make sure his experiments actually achieved what he thought they should, he needed to test them. He always made sure he had a few poison antidotes on hand just in case, so he wasn’t entirely sure what all the fuss was about.

So it was that Sebastian and Ominis found themselves accosted by the boisterous redhead one early February morning in their seventh year, in the Defence Against the Dark Arts Tower.

“Seriously, Sallow, I’ll pay you fifty galleons. Fifty! Think what you could do with that money!”

“Fuck off,” came the terse reply. “I said no eight times already, I’m not going to change my mind.”

“But if I can get this to work ahead of Valentines-”

“Unclog your ears, Weasley, he said no,” Ominis said, using his wand to pour a cup of tea with the cool indifference only a Slytherin pureblood seemed able to master.

Garreth narrowed his eyes. “I’d have thought you’d jump at the chance, Gaunt. Heard your family’s fallen on hard times.”

“It’s no secret,” Ominis said, supremely unbothered. Then, a tiny smirk touched his lips. “That said, I’m surprised you’ve got fifty galleons to offer in your entire family’s account.”

Unlike Ominis, Garreth was just a little bit touchy about his family’s fortunes. He needed to make this potion work ahead of Valentine’s so he could sell it for a huge profit! It would be so popular and he’d be rich and famous and would be able to make sure all his family were comfortable, what was so wrong about that?

Perhaps this was why Garreth decided to do what he did. Maybe he was just in a bad mood and wanted to cause a bit of trouble. Or maybe, just maybe, he was having withdrawals from seeing his potions at work and was determined to do anything to get his creation tested. He pretended to see Peeves causing havoc on the other side of the Tower, and when Sebastian turned to look, he upended the tiny, pink potion into Ominis’ tea.

He shared a grin with Leander, and groped for a notepad as Ominis picked up his cup.

“Alright, fine, suit yourselves. But it would have made an absolute killing, and I’d have given you commission for your help,” he said, trying to be nonchalant.

“Whatever.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I’ve enough to be worrying about without dealing with beetles falling out of my ears, thanks.”

Ominis shook his head and sipped his tea, closing his eyes at the warmth that slid past his lips and down his throat. He let his mind wander a little, and as it always did when he let it have some form of free reign, it landed squarely on the most incredible woman he’d ever known, the Hero of Hogwarts, for whom he had harboured a secret, burning love since their ill-fated trip to the Scriptorium.

A slim line appeared between his brows as the warmth from the tea seemed to settle under his collar, before spreading over his chest, creeping down his torso to pool between his thighs, and something began to stir.

Ominis, like any other man of his age, was no stranger to random bouts of wilful disobedience from his personal basilisk, and so he elected to ignore it, crossing an elegant leg over the other, hoping no one else had noticed. He took a slow breath and another drink, wondering vaguely why this particular standing to attention was coupled with something that felt concerningly like arousal. Yes, thinking of her certainly fired him up him like nothing else did, but he hadn’t been thinking of anything particularly ungentlemanly. He was in public, after all.

His hands tightened on his cup as the unspecified heat began to intensify, his half-mast blooming full, and as he heard Garreth leaning forward in his chair, and the scratch of quill on parchment, he began to put two and two together.

Uh-oh.

“Soooo…” Garreth said, in a voice so overly casual that it sent a thrill of fear through anyone in the vicinity that had recently had a drink. “How are we all feeling today? Normal? Bit hot under the collar? Thinking of anyone in particular?”

Ominis faced him, quite certain that steam might be curling up from under his shirt as his heart began to pound.

“What have you done?” he managed.

Garreth laughed. “Only what I had to. Don’t worry, the effects won’t last more than a few hours. I think.”

There was a clatter as Sebastian lunged across the low table, followed by a smash as the teapot shattered. Garreth yelped as Sebastian gripped handfuls of his robes and wrenched him out of his seat.

“What did you do?” he demanded, snarling.

“I needed to test my potion,” Garreth said, shoving him back. “Just slipped him a bit, that’s all!”

“What the fuck do you mean, you slipped him a bit!?” Sebastian barked. “What the hell is it meant to do?”

“I’m not sure yet, that’s why I needed to test it,” Garreth said, proudly. “It’s only a variant of a love potion that’s meant to make anyone you like want you in bed, nothing to worry about. Gaunt, tell me exactly what you’re feeling, spare no detail.”

“Are you insane?” Ominis hissed, hunching forward as his arousal twitched, nudging insistently against his belt and threatening to pop right out over the top of his waistband. “You better have an antidote for this, you cretin!”

Garreth gulped and edged behind Leander as Sebastian drew his wand, aiming it at his nethers. “Antidote? It’s only in the testing stages, I’ve not had time to-” he yelped as Sebastian fired a curse at him, and Leander had to put out a small fire on his robes.

Ominis felt his cheeks sear as another thrum of unspecified interest surged through him, his mouth drying. There was an insistent, needy ache growing in his lower abdomen, and he got the feeling that if he didn’t take care of it soon, he was going to be in serious trouble. It didn’t help that he could sense his friends staring at him, Garreth’s lack of subtlety and his shortening breath all but confirming the state he was in.

“Undercroft,” he managed to growl to Sebastian out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t follow me.”

“You okay?” Sebastian asked, as Ominis tugged his robes tight about himself and rose.

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered, trying to stand as casually as he could without revealing his significantly growing problem. “Do try not to kill that little bastard while I’m gone, I’d like to do it myself.”

The cool of the Undercroft’s stone walls did little to alleviate the heat in his body as Ominis shouldered his way through the hidden entrance, his pace increasing as he half ran towards a stack of crates at the back, positioned deliberately to hide a pile of cushions and blankets for the rare instances when he just couldn’t ignore his body’s needs. Ominis hissed between his teeth and turned his wand about the Undercroft, hoping that she wasn’t down here. Merlin, he’d never live it down if she saw him like this.

Hell, it was embarrassing enough to be in this predicament, but for his friends to know as well! The thought scalded him, making him cringe. It was worse that they knew why he’d gone off by himself. Yes, everybody did it, but that didn’t mean everyone should bloody know about it when he did! It was hard enough to find alone time as it was, but for anyone else to know… Ominis groaned. With the way gossip spread, the whole bloody castle would know that the infamously stoic Ominis Gaunt had needed to dash off and have a wank by the time he reemerged, if his past luck was anything to go by.

No matter. The state he was in, it wouldn’t take long, and then he could try and forget about the whole, sordid mess. After he’d murdered Garreth, of course.

He sucked a sharp breath between his teeth, bracing a hand against the wall as his mind flooded with thoughts of her, as it always did when he needed to attend to himself. He focused on the faint brush of her hand against the back of his when they studied together, her fingertips cool as she handed him a book or stack of parchment, each light touch sending sparks through his skin that never failed to stiffen his cock. He whimpered softly as he recalled those few times he let her embrace him, his attention always zeroing in on how her ample breasts pressed against his chest, his hands resting just above the curve of her hip. What he wouldn’t give to feel these things without the cursed barrier of her clothes…

And Merlin, the sound of her voice, low and rich, some sultry note always winding about underneath it, as if she was but a moment away from singing or whispering nothing but sinful filth into his ear, her dark chuckles, the freedom of her laughter never failing to set his heart to racing.

Then the scent of her hair… citrus and exotic blossoms from some far off, sun-drenched land infused his mind as he wished and wished he knew what it was like to have those silken strands fall over his face as she rode him.

Ominis fought with his belt and the fastenings of his trousers, unable to stop thinking about her, imagining all those things she could do to him that would only ever be in his mind. She was too good for him, too perfect, too glorious, but it never hurt to imagine. Imagination never hurt anyone. His lower lip found its way between his teeth as he took himself in his hand, instinctively setting up a rapid pace that, when he’d been this worked up before, had brought him blissful relief in little under a minute.

But something was wrong. He could feel his hand sliding along his length, feel the pressure as he tightened his grip, but it brought him about as much relief as sticking it in a jar of numbing potion would have.

“Oh, come on,” Ominis hissed, gripping himself tighter in a vain effort to evoke some of the promised euphoria such an act usually provided him, even going so far as to spit in his palm, but it didn’t work. To his horror, it served only to heighten his need, and brought him no relief.

✧˖° ˖ * ˖ °˖✧

Almost an hour later, Ominis emerged, limping and red-faced, his breathing ragged and his hair dishevelled, his cloak pulled tight about his body.

“Well?” Garreth asked, eagerly, quill and notepad at the ready.

“Piss off,” Ominis snarled. “If you can’t get me an antidote in the next five minutes then what good are you?”

Sebastian shouldered Garreth out of the way and leaned in close.

“No better?”

“Fuck off. I don’t want anyone near me.”

“What about New Girl?” Leander piped up, clearly enjoying himself far more than was appropriate for the Slytherin’s suffering. “Bet you wouldn’t mind her being around you right now.”

Ominis spat a string of violent curses in Parseltongue at the thought of the Hero of Hogwarts assisting him with his predicament once again, before he tried to push away the idea as it sent another painful thrum of arousal through him. Unfortunately, the idea of her didn’t want to be banished and remained stubbornly inside his head, doing things no self-respecting woman would ever do, let alone to him.

“She hasn’t been new for two years,” Sebastian said, placing his foot firmly on Leander’s hip and shoving him away as Ominis clung to the wall, biting his tongue to stop himself groaning. “If you’re not going to help, then sod off.” He gripped Ominis’ shoulder, leaning close, and Ominis wriggled away, hissing as his skin tingled. “Mate, maybe he’s got a point. She’s good at potions, maybe she could do something about this? Plus, you like her, and she likes-”

“Never,” Ominis growled. “She can never hear of this.”

“Okay, then maybe we should get Professor Sharp, he’d be able to-”

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone I will kill you myself!” Ominis snarled.

It was getting decidedly hard to think, and Ominis huddled against the wall, bent almost in two as wave upon wave of rising need threw itself about his insides. If he didn’t do something soon, he was either going to explode or go completely insane. It was all he could do not to grab at himself, despite the fact that he was in public and he knew that it wouldn’t help one bit.

Sebastian shared a worried look with Garreth, whose eagerness to see the effects of his potion in action had worn off upon seeing how decidedly uncomfortable Ominis was. Yeah, it had been kind of funny to see him so embarrassed, but this was a problem. How could he sell his potion if the effects were this drastic, and didn’t wear off quickly?

“Maybe just… I don’t know, try and sleep it off?” Sebastian suggested, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry mate, I don’t know how else to help you.”

“I know a way you can,” Leander laughed, and quickly shut up as both Sebastian and Ominis glared at him, drawing their wands.

“Go up to the Room of Requirement,” Sebastian said, giving Ominis a little shove between the shoulder blades that made him yelp. “Garreth, you go too, there’s potion stations up there, and you better get to work on an antidote, or I’ll hang you off the Astronomy Tower by your balls.”

With a barely restrained whine, Ominis disillusioned himself and all but ran for the stairs, the outline of his figure vanishing as he rounded the bend. Garreth took one look at Sebastian’s murderous expression and followed, jotting notes on his parchment as he went. No sooner had he vanished than Sebastian took off, pelting through the castle, seeking the one person he hoped might be able to put an end to his brother’s suffering.

✧˖° ˖ * ˖ °˖✧

“How long’s he been like this?” she asked, matching Sebastian’s pace as they hurtled towards the Room of Requirement.

“A bit more than an hour or so, I think,” Sebastian panted, struggling to keep up. “It’s really bad.”

She cursed under her breath, her long, dark hair swishing to and fro. “What did Garreth say it was meant to do?”

“Turn people on so they’re easier to get into bed,” Sebastian replied, glowering. “Or words to that effect. He wants to sell it ahead of Valentine’s Day.”

She made a face, her small nose wrinkling. “Creep. As if it wasn’t bad enough having to worry about love potions. Poor Ominis.” They slowed as they reached the seventh-floor corridor, and she glanced at him. “I presume he’s… um… tried the usual methods?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I guess so. Didn’t ask, he’s embarrassed enough. He’s going to kill me when he finds out I’ve told you.”

“Me in particular?” she raised a brow, and Sebastian hesitated. It wasn’t a secret to those who knew him well that Ominis was madly in love with the woman before him, but he hadn’t thought she’d figured it out. His silence seemed to be all the answer she needed, and a little smile touched her lips. “Leave it to me. He’ll be right as rain soon enough.”

“What are you going to-” Sebastian began, but she’d vanished into the Room of Requirement before he could finish. With a low sigh, he crossed his fingers, counted to ten, then followed, finding the large space mostly empty, save for a sweaty Garreth standing before a table of five cauldrons, each of them hissing different coloured steam. His nose was bleeding.

“What happened there?” Sebastian asked, and Garreth glowered.

“That cow just punched me,” he said, thickly. “Didn’t say a damn word and ran off to the bedroom.”

Sebastian grinned. “Can’t say you didn’t deserve it.”

Garreth wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Shut up and help me with these, would you? Whatever she’s planning, I hope it works, because none of these antidotes look promising right now.”

✧˖° ˖ * ˖ °˖✧

Ominis twisted and writhed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. His clothes lay discarded on the floor of the small room, the light satin sheets of the bed dragging across his fevered skin as he desperately sought some form of relief from the blazing need surging through his body. But no matter how much he rutted against the mattress, no matter how fervently he beat himself, he couldn’t break through the barrier between desperate desire and the enduring numbness that denied him, over and over.

He couldn’t say how much time had passed. He couldn’t say how long he’d been tangled in these sheets, moaning softly as he chased a high that tormented him as it danced away, again and again. His mind was fragmented, consumed by a primal, visceral need for relief, for this aching agony to end, for the heavens to open and just please let him come.

So scattered was he that he barely registered the door opening, the footsteps hushing over the carpet as he gripped handfuls of his hair, curled in a ball on his side. But he heard the sharp intake of breath, smelled that torturously familiar scent that was so deliciously her, and his tormented mind took on a crystal clarity as pure, unadulterated panic flashed through him.

“No, no!” he gasped. “No, not you!”

She pulled up short, her brows drawing together a little as Ominis struggled to pull the fraying threads of his brain back together.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” he whimpered softly as another agonising pang of need surged through him, intensified by the fact that it was her standing there, and he curled up tighter, his hands tensing in his hair, trying to hide his shamed face as he tried to burrow under the sheets. “I… I don’t want you to see me like this.”

She was concerningly quiet for a moment, then her footsteps sounded once more as she approached, and Ominis bit down on a high-pitched whine as she settled on the bed, her weight pulling the sheets tight against his skin. He fought not to writhe, every nerve ending on fire as he curled up tighter.

“Please… please leave,” he begged. “I-I c-can’t…”

“This needs to be fixed,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “Ominis, you can’t go on like this. I want to help you.”

“Then get me a fucking antidote,” he spat, his limbs trembling as he fought to remain still. He didn’t care that he swore in front of her, something he vowed never to do in front of a lady, he was too concerned with retaining some miniscule shred of dignity. Shame and humiliation burned a torturous path through his body as he bit down on another low whine, his cock throbbing at the thought of her being so close to him, her beautiful scent, her delicious voice sending waves of primal desire through him.

She couldn’t be here. She had to leave, or he was going to do something they would both regret.

It seemed she either couldn’t sense the danger, however, or she didn’t care. She slid closer to him, a cool hand finding his shoulder, such a simple touch making his hair stand on end as he fought with himself not to grab at her. He had to maintain control, no matter how difficult. He was a gentleman, he was proper, he wasn’t one of those base louts that thought with their dicks and followed wherever they pointed, he was… he was…

Fucking hell. He was desperate for her.

Her hand tightened on his shoulder, pushing lightly, and little by little he uncurled enough to reveal his face, his skin flushed, his hair sticking to his forehead.

“You poor thing,” she murmured. “Will you let me help you?”

Her hand slid over his shoulder to his chest, and Ominis bit down on a whine. How often had he tormented himself with fantasies of this exact thing happening? It almost made him want to weep with the frustration of it all, because he knew all too well that nothing would come of this but further humiliation.

“P-please… don’t,” he whimpered as she peeled the sheets back, moving closer to him as she trailed her fingers over his stomach, the muscles contracting at her touch. “It won’t… it won’t d-do anything… I c-can’t feel-”

His next words were cut off by a yelp as the heel of her hand grazed the aching head of his length through the sheets, sending a surge of pleasure so powerful through him that it snapped his head back.

He could feel her touch.

His hands flew out, one latching onto her wrist, the other winding into her hair. She came to him willingly, her lips brushing his hesitantly for a heartbeat before he crushed his mouth to hers, moaning helplessly as she found his aching steel through the sheets, her palm curving around the shape of him.

Ominis launched up, hooking an arm around her neck, his free hand shoving at the covers. There was no longer room for hesitancy or fear or embarrassment – any last shred of lingering dignity had been eviscerated by her kiss.

All Ominis knew is that he needed to be held, to be kissed, to be touched, and to be fucked. Right. Now.

He shoved at the sheets covering him as her lips moved from his to lavish attention on the side of his neck, her hand travelling down his chest sparking through his nerves. A high, desperate whine escaped him when she showed no hesitation and wrapped her hand around his fevered length, the soothing cool of her skin a balm to his burning flesh.

Even through his maddening haze of desperation and need, Ominis was dimly aware of the inexplicable skill she displayed, each swift, twisting stroke of her hand designed by some omniscient power, it seemed, so perfectly did it make his body sing. Her pace was steady, her grip firm but not tight, and his mind went to pieces. In all his furtive, shameful imaginings of being with her at last, he had never once suspected that she would know just how perfectly to treat him.

She murmured gentle encouragement to him, her words a song of sin and fire as her touch sent him ever higher on a glittering ladder that seemed heaven bound. Ominis bucked helplessly against her, his hands alternately clutching and tugging at her clothes, knowing in some deep, primal way that the simple touch of her hand, no matter how glorious, would never be enough.

It seemed she understood this as well, for her lips left his neck, trailing down his body, each press of her lips tensing the muscles they touched. Something in the back of his mind set up a wild protest, the part of him that was still human underneath his frantic desire screaming that he would never live this down, but even this stubborn part of him was silenced when a searing heat enveloped him from head to base, hard at the edges and so deliciously soft in the centre, something long and dexterous winding about his entire length.

The sensation of her mouth on him in such a way pushed a yell that was almost a scream from deep within his lungs, flying up his throat so harshly that it roughed the edges of his voice, his hands flew to her head, winding his fingers into her hair and driving himself as deep as he could. He didn’t care that he might choke her, that he might make her wretch, he just needed more of that sensation, more of this heavenly feeling of pure euphoria.

She didn’t choke, and she didn’t retch. She tightened her lips, hollowing her cheeks and sucking hard, her throat closing over the tip of him as he threw his head back, yelping in wordless ecstasy. Her arms wound around his waist as his legs fell apart, anchoring them together as her head bobbed at a steady, rapid pace, and if Ominis had the gift of sight, he would have seen the entire cosmos.

"Fuck... yes..." Ominis gasped. "Right there... don't stop, please don't stop..."

And yet it still wasn’t enough. Though each swipe of her tongue drew a whining moan from his lips like silver thread, the pulsing of her throat in time with his racing heart, his body stubbornly refused to fall over the edge upon which he teetered. Almost rabid, Ominis gripped he hair, pulling her back up to crush his lips to hers, tugging at her clothes so forcefully that her blouse tore.

In response, she pinned his wrists over his head. He had no time to protest this as she straddled him in the next moment, leaning down to capture his lips with hers once more, holding him tight with one hand as the other slid down, grasping him firmly and angling him up.

Ominis could never have imagined the euphoria that he experienced next. One moment, he was aching, spit-slick and cool in the empty air, and the next he was enveloped in searing satin and silken fire. If her mouth had been the cosmos, this was heaven itself. He could barely draw breath to moan as she seated him fully inside her, and even through his primal haze, he couldn’t believe it, couldn’t understand it, that he, Ominis Gaunt, was being loved by her.

He thrust up with abandon, garbled pleas and frenzied, worshipful praise flowing from his mouth between urgent kisses, his hands held firmly above his head as she rode him like a graphorn. Her hair swung down, the silken tresses brushing over his face and chest like he’d always dreamed of. He began to feel a delicious, prickling heat pooling at the base of his spine, in the pit of his stomach, his skin tingling as he ran full pelt towards the edge. Something within him knew he needed to savour this, to commit each and every detail to memory as she herself released a soft, breathy moan, but that single sound, the knowledge that came with it being that he was making her feel good was too much for him.

"Fuck... fuck... FUCK! YES! YES!"

The spell was broken, the potion overcome as Ominis’ entire body went taught, his balls drawing up tight as he finally, finally came like a fucking hose. His head snapped back, his moans rising to echoing yelps as his back arched, his hands pinioned above his head as he writhed, the sensation so much more intense than anything he had ever experienced before, going on and on and on until he was certain he might go mad. But end it did, and he fell back, utterly boneless and exhausted, his breath trembling as his body quivered, the warm weight of her comforting as she settled to lie atop him, her lips soothing once more at his neck.

“Are you alright?” she asked, after some small time had passed. Ominis could only mumble non-words, his mind still scattered, his not quite feeling his body as he should now that there was this sudden absence of primal need. Little by little, the last few hours came back to him, and he felt his chest grow tight. Wincing as fresh shame burned a path through him, Ominis turned his face away.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he managed, his voice cracking. “Y-you shouldn’t have… my behaviour… I never should…”

“Hush,” she brushed his hair back, pressing a delicate kiss to his temple. “I was happy to, Ominis.” She pulled him closer, a hand at the back of his head, and he curled into her automatically, burying his face in the crook of her neck. The lingering ache in his body melded with his utter humiliation, contrasting bizarrely with a feeling of purest bliss. He held onto it, onto her, knowing that once she left this bed, this room, she’d never want to speak to him again. She had helped him, yes, but that was what she did. It wasn’t because she liked him. How could anyone like someone as depraved as him?

As if she could read his thoughts, she gave him a little squeeze, her lips brushing his ear.

“You know, I’d be happy to do this again,” she murmured, and he felt her lips stretch into a smile against his skin as his heart leapt. “With you, and only you. Only… let’s leave the experimental potions out of it next time, hm?”

Ominis was only too happy to agree.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #subinis #ominis smut #ominis gaunt smut #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x mc #sub!ominis #sebastian sallow #garreth weasley #dubcon #lust potion #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #ominis x fmc #ominis gaunt x fmc

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waltwhitmansbeard · 29 days ago

Note

Hello! may I request any prompt of your choosing from the hurt/comfort list if I specifically ask for tlovm vaxleth? thank you!

10. "Don't worry about anything now."

It's cold in Whitestone, especially at night, but Keyleth doesn't feel it. Her body is warm, hot even, pressed back against Vax like this. His arm is draped over her, his chin hooked over her shoulder. Her naked shoulder. Because she's naked. They both are. Because they had sex.

Vax's breathing is slow and even, and Keyleth is working overtime to keep hers the same way. It's not that she's freaking out—she's not. Not really. Except her body is sore, pleasantly so, dully tingling in the memory of his hands on her, in her—oh, and while that was happening, the people of Whitestone were burying their dead. And Thordak was still burning Emon. And Raishan was probably plotting her inevitable betrayal. And Percy was lying in a tomb, surrounded by generations of deceased de Rolos. But oh gods, the things Vax's tongue can do.

She's a bad person. That has to be it. She gets together with Vax in their dead friend's home? While Vex is in mourning? Who does that? Sure, she was waiting for Vax to pull his head out of his ass long before Percy died, but still, she could have waited, should have waited, found a better moment, done everything differently—

"You're thinking so loud." Vax's voice is a sleepy rumble in her ear as his arm tightens around her.

She laughs nervously. "Sorry. Just, um. A lot to think about."

His nose trails lazily up the back of her neck. "Care to share?"

Now she's in a pickle. She can't tell him what she was really thinking about, because then he'll think she regrets sleeping with him, which she doesn't—at least, not like that. And she's always been so bad at lying. And if she says she's thinking about Percy, will he think she wishes he were here instead? Because wow, no. She has to lie. But say what—

"Kiki, seriously. If you think any louder you're going to wake up the whole castle."

"Was this a mistake?" She feels his body stiffen, and his arm starts to retract. Fully panicking now, she grabs his hand, uses it to tug herself around so she's on her back, where she can see his face. It's shell-shocked, hurt. "That is not what I meant. I don't—I don't regret this. I don't regret you. I promise, Vax."

His face softens a bit, but he's still regarding her skeptically. "I'm really struggling to find another interpretation here, Kiki."

"No, I know, I just meant—" She throws her forearm over her eyes so she doesn't have to look at him. "Percy is dead and Vex is heartbroken and Whitestone is in ruins again and we have to fight Thordak and Raishan is such a bitch and gods I am so behind on my Aramenté and really what right do I have to be happy with you when everything is terrible—"

He shuts her up by kissing her. His hand pulls her face closer to his, and her arm falls away from her eyes as she melts against his lips. For a moment, everything is quiet.

"Keyleth," he murmurs against her mouth. "You are beautiful and powerful and wise and so very, very silly."

"I'm not—"

"You are. There is no 'deserving' happiness. There is just...finding it. With our friends. With our families." His thumb traces little circles where his hand cups her jaw. "Here, in this bed, with you. You know, a very wise woman once pointed out to me how foolish it was to forgo current happiness for fear of future pain." He smirks at her. "I'd hate to see her forgo current happiness because she's guilty about the suffering of others."

Keyleth chews her lip. "But there are things we could be doing. People we could be helping."

"We can't help anyone if we're too exhausted to stand. C'mere." He gently spins her around again so that he's spooning her, her hand cupped in his, and yeah, the feeling of him behind her, warm and solid, does make the brain chatter quiet a bit. "Don't worry about anything now. We have so much time to worry, I promise you. All of the things you're concerned about will be there in the morning, and so will I." He kisses the nape of her neck. "I don't know what the future holds, but I can't imagine thinking about that when I have my favorite person in the world in my arms."

He squeezes her close, and Keyleth breathes in the arm, woodsy scent of him. Alright. Maybe he's right. Maybe the horrors will still be waiting come daylight. Maybe they can share this night, and the happiness it has brought them. She closes her eyes, and soon, she is dreaming of hundreds more nights, just like this.

#ask #Anonymous #critical role #critical role fic #tlovm #tlovm fic #cr fic #my fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic

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starqueensthings · 10 months ago

Text

A very Crosshair Character Analysis

I posted a poll the other day looking for some opinions, and the prompt was: does Crosshair ever truly miss a shot? Meaning, of all the shots we’ve seen him aim and fire, how many of the few that didn’t land, were intended not to land? Does Crosshair have the skill and ability to land every shot he takes, and what of the ones that go astray (because there are some!)? The overarching, collective opinion (77% of votes) is that the sniper only misses a shot when he intends to, but let me explain why I was asking— the "methods behind my madness," if you will… (Fasten your seatbelts, and keep all extremities— and pitchforks— inside the ride!)

If Crosshair “doesn’t miss”, then there are some things that demand consideration and possible explanation. Please accept this weird internet essay as a deep dive into Crosshair’s character based solely on how I perceived his actions throught season one and two, and opinions I formed while watching his character develop. And while this could not be a Tech-approved analysis without touching on both his perceived good qualities and “flaws”, please know this is not a hate-on-Crosshair post.

Before I get into specifics, I think it’s imperative that we establish a basic understanding of his personality before the chip’s activation. While there is, sadly, not much “footage” we can use to form a true characterization of him, there are some instances we can touch on. The Skako/Anaxes arc from TCW and the earliest few moments of “Aftermath”, Crosshair is shown to be quite sarcastic, uninterested in trivial conversation, measurably combative toward those with differing opinions to his (seemingly all regs, including but not limited to Kix and Jesse), moderately argumentative toward leadership outside of his own Sergeant (mainly Rex, as Crosshair seems to have no qualms following Anakin’s or Cody’s orders), comforting to those who need it (Echo), and an overall good tactical team player.

So, let’s start this analysis by dialling things way back to their mission on Kaller and the complications that arose once Order-66 had been dropped. More specifically, hunting Caleb down in the forest. One of the things I noticed upon first watching that scene and every re-watch since, is how often Crosshair toggles back and forth between blaster bolt and stun cartridge on his rifle, as if constantly battling the indecision of exactly how he wanted to detain the Jedi. Now, if you remember, Tech com’s in and basically says [paraphrased obviously]: “Shit is starting to his the fan, we better get our butts outta here,” to which Hunter responds: “Can’t. Haven’t found the kid yet.” Crosshair then chimes in with, what I have long-deemed to be his catch phrase: “Wrong,” and proceeds to shoot the branch that Caleb is perched on. Not Caleb, who, in Crosshair's mind, should be the rightful recipient of a kill shot… the branch. Hmmmm.

If every one of Crosshair’s shots is so masterfully aimed that its deemed an automatic hit, and thus every miss is intentional (a notion of which I also believe, less one particular shot which I’ll touch on a little later), then there would’ve had to have been a portion of Crosshair’s cognition overriding that Order-66 command to eradicate all Jedi, even if it was only enough to fleetingly switch his gun to stun.

Not long afterward, we see his beloved Firepuncher saber-whacked from his hands, and Crosshair opts to then continue his attack with his backup DC17. Missed shot, missed shot, missed shot, missed shot. Were these blown shots intentional as well? And if so, why does he continue to assail the Padawan? Is Crosshair only able to fight off the command to kill Caleb while his finger is on the trigger, possibly knowing that’s when the fight against his own mind becomes most crucial? Is he clinging to some autonomy in the moments where he’s not posing an imminent threat to those around him, like during the flight back to Kamino? Or can he only resist the chip’s influence when the urge to do something terrible is paramount?

Let’s skip ahead, shall we, to when the Batch is attempting to flee Kamino with Omega. Crosshair sashays onto the landing platform in his new gothboy armour, fresh out of an undescribed chip “augmentation” procedure (whatever that eludes to), and proceeds to have a small stand off with Hunter— both of whom have their weapons directed pointedly away from each other (interesting). During the succeeding fire fight, we see Crosshair line up several well aimed shots, many of which appear to be only inches away from landing on their “intended target”. He eventually succeeds in shooting Wrecker in the shoulder, and I’d like to point out that this shot lands almost exactly where Wrecker was hit by the training droid some hours/days previously. Was the placement of this shot intentional? Did Crosshair pick that particular target area knowing Wrecker would survive the damage?

The shot I find most intriguing is the one near-perfectly aimed at Hunter’s head (lol— brothers). You know, the one where Omega saves the day by unexpectedly blasting Crosshair’s rifle out of his hands. If the chip's activation was the reason he was now hunting them and claiming their treason, why had that moment seen him hesitate? Perhaps he needed a second to line up his shot, you might argue to which I would say argue: we’ve seen him use the active recoil from that same rifle to line up his next shot many times in quick succession with a zero margin of error (see the Skako/Anaxes arc in TCW and the first few minutes of Kaller), including when each shot was aimed at targets both more dynamic in action and further away than Hunter was.

Crosshair then takes several shots at the ramp of the Marauder as they take off, all of which are well aimed… and simultaneously redundant; the passengers are taking cover in the ship already, the Marauder has begun its take off, the ramp is closing, Crosshair running whilst knowing he can’t reach them. I personally attribute those last few shots as tokens of both anger and resentment for being left behind, not ones made with the intention of killing. I think that he expected his brothers to know him better than to believe these actions were of sound mind— he thought they’d be able to deduce that he was fighting a losing battle inside his own head, yet they were quick to believe he would actually entertain such sudden and aggressive hostilities toward them.

At this point, you might be itching to argue that maybe Crosshair's accuracy is largely diminished when he opts for a pistol instead of his rifle, and while I can't dispell this theory, I can provide some statistics. We see Crosshair use a pistol only four times in the entirety of the show so far: 1. against Caleb on Kaller (objective miss), 2. against the Batch Batch as their leaving Kamino (objective miss), 3. against a soldier while he and his new elite soldier squad infiltrate Saw's camp (direct hit), and 4. against Leiutenant Nolan when that asshole he gets on Crosshair's last nerve at the Outpost (direct hit). I will leave it up to you to decide if the theory of whether his skill level changes based on the weapon he's firing holds any merit, or is worth further discussion.

Moving on— the 99-clan is reunited on Bracca. Let’s turn our attention to the shot Crosshair takes at Tech whilst the latter was emerging from the ion engine, and I’m going to include pics this time to support my assertion.

Crosshair has an undeniably clear shot— his line of sight is not impeded, there are no environmental or atmospheric disturbances to disrupt his composure, he was ready and waiting for them to appear. The shot that he fires lands a good distance in front of Tech. Though the unexpectedness of it was enough to startle the genius into nearly falling out of the engine, I believe it was intentionally aimed this way (see below). A warning shot if you will. A “Hello, I outsmarted you and am waiting at your point of attempted escape. Stop trying, and get down here because I don’t want my new imperial cohorts to take aim for me and kill you” shot.

The next arc (Ryloth) quickly demonstrates that any neurological augmentations he’s been subject to (at this point, I believe we've been shown two, but have been led to believe there were several), have had no effect on Crosshair’s infamous sniper skills. First, he fires a perfectly aimed tracking beacon onto the moving target of Gobi’s ship. Then, upon the ship’s return, uses a single shot to disable one of the engines; a shot taken from, what appears to be, several kilometres away and having the immediate desired affect of disabling the ship. Finally, he makes the astoungingly precise shot (and I’m using astoundingly very heavily here) of blasting Senator Taa in the head. This shot, more than the previously mentioned two, are a sign of his impeccable marksmanship. Let me remind you, he was an undisclosed albeit very far distance away, on the opposite ridge of an enshadowed canyon, and is still able to shoot the senator in a place in which HE WOULD SURVIVE the attack. And not just survive, “make a full recovery” as Rampart claims afterward. This is unrivalled accuracy, and while I do not support the assassination attempt in itself, I can not deny how much skill was required to have achieved it.

My next point is something I have always personally found quite compelling, and it occurs in an off-the-cuff, likely forgotten about piece of dialogue.

Brief context: Crosshair has scooped Hunter off of Daro, they’ve landed on Kamino, and the duo (and a third soldier) are on their way to the Command Center to await the rest of the squads arrival. One of Crosshair’s elite troopers waits until he departs the platform before approaching Rampart and saying: “I question the clone’s motives with his old squad. I don’t trust any of them.” I’m intrigued to know where such a potent mistrust began. Is it simply because he’s a clone? A person born and raised unnaturally in comparison to someone with a traditional gestation and upbringing? Or has this soldier previously identified possible cracks in Crosshair’s imperial facade? Has Crosshair failed to hide his distress in quiet moments where he possibly longs for the life he had with his brothers? What is it that triggers this soldier to suspect Crosshair has an ulterior motive in capturing his old squad, and one that they’re apparently worried would not coincide with Rampart’s ideals?

Ramparts reply, in my opinion, gives us a well disguised clue: “If his plan fails, none of them will be a problem any longer.” If his plan fails. Crosshair’s plan. Crosshair has a plan for mobilizing his old family into one place, and what is it? Is he concealing the hidden objective of a reunion with his brothers under the guise of squad assassination? Was it always his plan to eliminate his new elite squad members, hence the perfectly placed mirror pucks we see him utilize in the training room, to make room for his old squad?

Remember, Hunter asks him some time later: “So this was your grand plan? Bring us here and kill us?” Crosshair answers: “If I wanted you dead, you would be.” And this is a statement which I believe to be incontrovertibly true. He has never wanted his family dead, despite having both the resources and skill to ensure they would be if that’s what he desired, but no. He’s angry that he’d inherently felt more loyalty to them than they had shown to him; frustrated that their choices post-Kaller did not align with his expectations of their choices, disheartened that they hadn't initially recognized to his choices to be ones made outside his character, and Crosshair now eagerly rebuffs their every excuse. Reference the spoken: “They don’t leave their own behind… most of the time.” . . . “You tried to kill us, we didn’t have a choice.” . . . “And I did?”

And follows the: “We’re loyal to each other, not some empire.” . . . “You weren’t loyal to me. I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. And it’s why I’m going to give you what you never gave me: a chance…” conversation. (Just stab me in the heart and twist the knife around, Jennifer!!!! Ouch!!! I'm still not over this!)

Was this his plan? To lure his brothers back to their home, and indirectly beg them to join the empire? To offer them the chance to join the ranks of those who have relentlessly hunted them, in the hopes that there might be some semblance of safety in conformity? To reunite the elite squad that they were in the days of the Republic (the original elite squad of which Rampart is trying to replicate with tactically inferior recruited bodies), simply for the safety that joining the empire could potentially promise? Is this the first demonstration of Crosshair using hostility to shield those he cares about from the callous clutches of the empire that he’d become painfully familiar with?

Regardless of the still-unexplained motive, Crosshair’s plan fails. Hunter has either become, or has always been, as protective of his family as Crosshair is stubborn, and he would never willingly subject his brothers (and now sister) to a life of committing abhorrent war crimes in the name of an Emperor who rose, uninhibited, to extreme and unnatural levels of power whilst abolishing the Republic of which they'd previously served. That’s not what their squad was made to do, despite Crosshair trying to convince Hunter perhaps maybe it was.

Unsurprisingly, Crosshair’s pitch falls on deaf ears, even despite killing his elite squad as an offering of trust. Once the training droids have been taken care of and the fray had subsided, Crosshair stands to find Hunter now has a blaster pointed directly at him, as does Wrecker— (Echo and Tech, curiously, keep their weapons pointed away), and the tables have quickly turned. Hunter begins his own plea to his brother, and it leads to a very ambiguous admission. Hunter: “Crosshair, forget the empire. This isn’t you, it’s your inhibitor chip.” Crosshair: “Wrong. I had my chip removed a long time ago.”

What degree of this admission is true? All of it? Parts of it? None of it? Was Crosshair only told that his chip was removed during one of the apparently many augmentations he’d been subject to? Was it removed and replaced with an alternative? Or was it truly extracted, and his questionable actions have been entirely his own? If so, was it the fall of the Republic that spooked him enough to join the ranks of an unknown empire? Did the thought of disobeying orders bother him enough to sacrifice the family dynamic he’s always known, and replace it with a safe sense of conformity? And if this is the case, was missing all of the shots he’d aimed at his brothers, a veiled display of love?

Atop the water hours later, Tipoca City has fallen. Due to their imminent death, Crosshair and his squad have been forced to work together to survive. Tech makes a lingering comment about Crosshair’s unyielding personality being outside of his control, and it’s still ringing in our ears at this point because it implies that a lot of this misunderstanding may just be because of how strongly Crosshair forms opinions, and how only one of his brothers understands that about him. Omega is mid-drowning trying to save her droid friend, Hunter is .4 seconds away from leaping into Kamino’s frigid and turbulent waters to try and retrieve her… and we see Crosshair grab his rifle. This is a shot, of any, that I would expect him to miss— water both impedes and shifts the trajectory of a projectile and mathmatically accommodating for this would take some serious, well thought out calculation; the only usable light for aiming is from the burning remnants of their home, and the container in which Crosshair is perched heaves and tips with every wave.

But he doesn’t miss. He, again, demonstrates that he can make any and every shot he wants to. He lands his shot on AZI’s chest (not dissimilar to where he shot Wrecker, on an obviously smaller scale), and pulls Omega from the depths of the water. Upon turning to see his brothers poised and ready to shoot him if they deemed the need appropriate, I think Crosshair realizes how monumental the fracturing of their squad was. They have no trust left for him. His actions, powered by an inhibitor chip or not, quickly led them to believe he was not the person they knew him to be. As much as he desperately wanted to them understand how powerful the control of the chip was, they didn’t. And I think this moment robs Crosshair of some of his anger and resentment he harboured toward them, and reaffirms that his only option now is to follow the path he was first influenced to follow, regardless of if it’s what he wants now or not. He then chooses abandonment. He chooses to be left stranded on that platform, likely aware that the potential he’d perish there was high. His separation was now his choice.

Let’s move on to Season Two! Episode 3, appropriately named “the Solitary Clone”, indirectly shows us more about Crosshair than I believe any previous episode ever has. Crosshair’s marksmanship is, once again, on full display as he takes down an old separatist tank with one shot (I’m still reeling over it, ok? That shit made me horny). And I can’t move on from this episode without also mentioning how it ended— we know Crosshair has respect for Commander Cody, that was demonstrated by his willingness to follow Cody’s command while he rebuked others’ in the Skako/Anaxes arc. I think it’s also apparent by the return of his notorious sarcasm, that Crosshair is happy to see a familiar face, one of which he may have previously deemed a friend. Cody, in return, places tidbit of trust in Crosshair (I’m also going to link this post in case anyone is curious about my thoughts on Cody’s initial comments). Not only does the commander inch toward the precarious conversation about “going rogue” and the Order-66 debacle, but Cody lets Crosshair take the lead after their shuttle crashes on Desix. “Trust me,” Crosshair begs, and Cody accedes.

They gain access to the strong hold; Crosshair, Cody and Nova (RIP) struggle only mildly with the droid forces ("Droideka's."). Crosshair demonstrates more inhuman trigonometry abilities and immaculate skill by using those mirror pucks to shoot around corners. Cody saves Crosshair’s tushy when a Commando droid gets a little too close to the sniper. Crosshair lowers his weapon at Cody’s request while they negotiate with Tawny Ames, a motion he had otherwise refused earlier in the episode (the civillians they come across behind a closed door— Cody lowers his gun and reassures them, Crosshair does not.) And when the Empire shows its true colours by demanding that Cody renege on his promise of peace and assassinate the governor, Crosshair does not hesitate to answer the call.

Now superficially, this act would appear as nothing more than a repeat of his crimes on Onderon, or Crosshair simply “following orders” as he had previously developed into a sort of mantra. But I think it’s much more layered than that. I think Crosshair recognized that Cody would be subject punishment did he not comply, a notion reinforced by his extended time at Rampart’s elbow, where it was regularly displayed that clones were of little significane and use to this new military regime. What would happen to Cody as a result of his disobedience? Would he simply be demoted from Commander? Would he be court-martialed and questioned? Detained and imprisoned? Killed? Is this why Crosshair took action into his own hands, and “did what needed to be done”? To protect Cody from the repercussions of disobeying a direct order? Or, more harrowingly and something that I am more inclined to believe, was Crosshair protecting Cody from the poignant shame and self-hatred that he knew the Commander would feel if he DID comply? Was Crosshair unwilling to let the mind of another clone be tainted by the emotionless demands of the empire, so he took the action upon himself? Was his objectively unnecessary and cruel attack, an action of deep seated respect and appreciation? Is this why Cody's comment about living with the consequences of their decisions affects Crosshair so deeply as they separate at the end of the mission?

Let’s dial back to the debated intention of Crosshair’s shots— are his missed shots deliberately missed? Our next stop on this journey is The Outpost (my personal favourite, and not because of the dreamy, sardonic, bearded Commander Mayday), but because of the overt growth that we see Crosshair attain. (Here’s an analysis I posted a while back about some of the messages I think the writers were trying to convey via symbolism throughout Crosshair's episodes to this point). If you've read it and even partially subscribe to my theory, then we can agree Crosshair’s mentality has been shifting little by little since we saw him last, and his attachment to Mayday (and the adjacent benefit that Crosshair rediscovers in companionship and brotherhood) is proof of this. So here’s what happens— raiders make it inside the perimeter of the Outpost thanks to limited man-power and degrading equipment. Crosshair heads directly to where he knows he can play to his strengths: high ground. He’s taking quick and careful aim at the retreating insurgent when the nearby shuttle explodes, and something peculiar happens. Whether it be the blinding flash of the explosion magnified significantly by his riflescope that had caused him such immediate discomfort, or something more (chip alert? Maybe? Or residual effects of having it augmented so many times?), but Crosshair’s subsequent shot is not of his regular quality. He hits his target, so I am not deeming this as a shot missed, but Crosshair has a track record of “one-shots” or “kill shots” of which this is not.

I’m inclined to ramble on for centuries about this episode because there is simply so much development, growth, and symbolism that occurs in those 28 minutes— it’s truly a masterpiece in story telling, but I’ve deviated too far from the intention of this essay (novel) so let’s trek forward.

Let’s get to Tipping Point, and what I would deem to be his only failed shot (and the implications of what it might mean). Crosshair has been sedated, interrogated, injected, neglected, confused, and abused since arriving on Tantiss. (You guessed it, I also have an analysis of this episode, structured a little differently than my previous but still helps to break down what I deem to be the motives behind his actions). Hemlock first attempts to bribe Crosshair with his freedom in exchange for information on his brothers, and as such, divulges his true need for Omega. Crosshair, who has never really had the chance to bond with her like his brothers have, refuses to provide any information. And why? Having only a surface level relationship with Omega, and having rebuffed her advances for companionship several times, why would he protect her in the face of imminent chemical torture? Because it directly protects them, and they are no longer being hunted by a squad of recruited bodies lead by an angry brother... but by a twisted and cruel doctor who's methods were proven unorthodox and tortuous upon immediate introduction.

Upon awakening from another round of interrogation, Crosshair understands the time to act is diminishing quickly, as is his ability to refuse Hemlock the information he wants. Each interrogation leaves him physically and mentally weaker; the time is act is now. He shoots and kills the pair of troopers, as well as the interrogation droid, with no difficulty. He stuns Emerie the scientist (possibly recognizing her clone accent for what it is, thus opting not to kill her?), steals her access card, and stumbles from the room. His body is no where near recovered from whatever toxin that droid injected him with, and he staggers through the unknown halls. Quickly coming across a pair of troopers guarding a doorway, the next shot is the only one that I believe he truly missed, and understandably so. It lands on the wall between their heads, and Crosshair quickly realizing his failure, shoots them with the following two rounds.

While missing that shot is largely inconsequential to the overall story, I think it’s an important anecdote for his character growth. In that moment, Crosshair is both physically weakened and mentally desperate to get a message to his brothers, and it’s the combination of those that had his aim faulty. He’s found himself nothing more than a man broken… stripped of the celebrated titles he’d once possessed and mentally mined until simply raising and aiming a blaster, a motion he’d once found more innate as breathing, was a motion difficult for him. He's forsaken his family, lost his purpose, been rendered nothing but an experiment and a tool.

So to summarize this egregiously long essay of Crosshair’s character, I’d like to reiterate that he is human. As we all do, he has faults. A lot of his reasoning is arguably flawed. He makes poor decisions, often in haste without considering the ripple effect it may have. He is extremely stubborn, and he does not communicate well. And there are things he’s done and decisions he’s made that I can not personally elucidate and would love to openly discuss with other Crosshair enthusiasts (example, trying to incinerate his brothers in an ion engine— did he assume Hunter would double back again, and this is Crosshair’s attempt at forcing them into the open? Or is this one of the moments when he cannot fight off the chips control?). You don’t have to like him. You don’t have to agree with him or anything he says. You don’t have to like me or agree with anything I say, but as we head into the third and final Act of this remarkable story, it is worth determining which of his actions are superficially misunderstood, and which have a deeper meaning that a casual viewer might simply overlook.

Thank you for attending the Ted Talk that no one asked for.

Holly ♥️

**forewent the taglist as this is not my typical content

#Crosshair character analysis #character analysis #long post #starqueensrandomthoughts #the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #tbb crosshair #Crosshair tbb #batch batch Crosshair #Crosshair bad batch #please don’t attack me lol

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 11 months ago

Note

Hey could I put a request in for melissa x new teacher reader (andro/soft butch/short haired) strangers to friends to lovers. Melissa never being with a woman before and falls for reader cos theyre like strong silent type and respects and a defends her and treats her right.

Falling for You ~Melissa Schemmenti xFem AndrogynousPresenting!SoftButch!ShortHaired!NewTeacher!Reader ~Holiday Bingo

Summary— Barbara goes home sick, and Melissa and Reader go to dinner. Melissa has confession at dinner for Reader. Anon Response— Hi hi anon!! Thank you for your request! I would love to write this for you. I hope you Enjoy ♥️

Previous Day <—found here!

Holiday Bingo <—Here!!

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Prompt— Cold & Flu Season

Prompt— strangers to friends to lovers

Warnings: fluff, confessions of feelings, physical affection, sickness, etc.

Enjoy (;

You had started as a new teacher at Abbott over the summer. They had hired you right out of college with your teaching degree.

It was now a couple months later, January to specific, and with the cold weather came the cold and flu season. You had kids in your classes going in and out of the classroom from October till now, due to fevers, viruses, and just a myriad of sicknesses.

You and felt pretty welcomed by Abbott. You didn’t know anybody when you first started in the late summer, everyone new and stranger to you. Everyone was a little spacey at first, wary of the stranger, you the new teacher roaming the halls. Except Janine, she was kind and a sweetheart to everybody.

But with time, you found your place at Abbott. You started to get to know the staff and they started to slowly warm up to you. Now, you spent your lunch time with Barbara and Melissa, two other teachers. Barbara was a kindergarten teacher, and Melissa taught a mixed glass of second and third graders.

When you had first arrived at Abbott, you quickly found out that Barbara and Melissa were the more seasoned teachers. Your bond turned from stranger to friends with Melissa because you learned to take all your questions regarding teaching to her. After a month or two, Melissa invited you to join her and Barbara for lunch. You found that Barbara also often had wisdom to share from her decades of teaching, which you happily took.

But while Barbara was lovely, you always had a stronger and more potent connection with Melissa. You two just seemed to click. Not in the way Barbara and Melissa did, but in your own unique way.

If you would have thought your redhead teacher friend were gay, you would have made a move by now. But all you ever heard from Melissa regarding partners was about guys. Her ex, Gary, and a couple others not worth mentioning. But none of them had ever panned out for her. So a part of you secretly remained hopeful that she might one day see you in that way…

It was a Friday and the school was bustling with that chaotic energy that came around just before the weekend. You, Barbara, and Melissa had evening plans to go to dinner. The two women liked to treat themselves every once in a while, and this time they had invited you. You were very excited to say the least. You had chosen your favorite casual suit/blazer to wear. And you spent the entire day looking forward to the evening.

But as you met Melissa and Barbara in the lunch room as always, Barbara was leaning over the table a little and breathing oddly. Melissa looked at you when you entered the room and began to explain,

“Barb’s not feeling well, ‘hun… I’m trying to convince her to go home, but… she’s certainly stubborn…!” Melissa huffed.

You nodded in understanding and apologized to Barbara because you felt bad. You and Melissa then spent your lunch convincing the groaning older woman to go home and rest. You finally got her with her things out the door and into her car. Barbara left the school parking lot at 5 minutes till the next class.

Melissa huffed as she and you walked back into the school. You both had to grab your things from the break room before you could go your separate ways.

“I guess we’ll cancel dinner, hmm ‘hun…?” Melissa hummed.

“I’d still like to go” you said before you could catch the words coming out of your mouth.

Melissa had picked up her things while you said that, making her stop and look at you. For a second you panicked as her face read nothing. But then it lit up!

“Sounds good! Meet ya’ in the lot?” The woman chirped.

You immediately nodded, before Melissa nodded back and left the break room.

You spent your afternoon now even more excited for the dinner. Far more excited. You and Melissa having dinner. Not a date or anything but still…!!

After school, you and Melissa met in the parking lot. You made sure you each had the right address and then drove to the restaurant in your own cars.

You arrived and the place was buzzing. It was Friday night after all. Luckily, Barbara had made a reservation, which you could still use.

The waiter escorted the two of you to the table and you took a seat. You both began scanning the menu.

“So I talked a little to Barb while mu kids were in specials…” Melissa hummed over her menu,

“Oh…? How is she?” You responded.

“Sick.” Melissa chuckled, “And grateful that we made her go home”

You smiled to yourself and nodded. You then put your menu down, having decided. This was when you noticed that Melissa’s eyes had been lingering on you. You met her gaze and she quickly looked away.

“What is it?” You asked curiously.

She put her menu down.

“I… I like you.” She said.

The energy and tone of the conversation turned quite vulnerable as Melissa spoke those words.

“Oh, thank you…?”

“Of course, but no I mean I really enjoy being around you and I…” Melissa paused, contemplating her next words, “I find myself wanting to be near you when I’m not… and I don’t feel good when you’re not near…” The woman rambled.

You listened and nodded along until there was a pause. Your heart was now racing. And your eyes were wide.

“Melissa… Do you like women…?” You asked the nagging question.

This stumped the woman a bit.

“I… have never been with one… so I don’t know…” she breathed out in confession.

“Ahh I see… well there’s nothing wrong with that.” You comforted the woman.

Melissa sighed and nodded.

“It scares me a little if I’m being honest…” she practically whispered.

Your heart was leaping with joy, but you also felt for the woman.

“Can you tell me about how you know or what you like about me…? Maybe talking about it might help…” you offered.

While part of you was being a little selfish in this ask of Melissa, the other part of you truly cared and wanted what was best for the woman.

Melissa hummed lightly and nodded slowly. But before she could continue, the waiter came back. You two were interrupted in your moment, having to tell the server what you were ordering. Finally, the waiter left.

You looked back at Melissa expectantly. She met your gaze, understanding, and taking a deep breath, looking away as she spoke.

“I’m not sure exactly… I like the way you look… your more manly outfits and your short hair…”

She paused and looked to you. You nodded along, blushing lightly. You indicated for her to continue.

“I like that you’re respectful and loyal…I like your mixed masculine and feminine energy, they kind of cancel each other out in a way that isn’t overwhelming”

“androgynous?” You interrupted, suggesting a term for her to use.

Melissa smiled lightly and immediately nodded.

“Ya’ that’s the one…!” She exclaimed, and you nodded along, asking her to continue.

“I know I like you because I always get butterflies when you’re nearby, and I feel a sharp stab like pain in my stomache when you’re not…” she breathed out in confession.

Now you were wondering if the room was heating up… Your heart was beating impossibly fast and you were blushing even more now. You couldn’t control your reactions to the woman and her words.

But you had asked for it when you asked her that question…

Melissa was noticeably nervous as she continued to explain. You could see her winding herself up.

So you reached forward and placed your hand on hers, which was on the table.

“I like you too” you breathed out, your breath already short.

Melissas breath hitched and her eyes widened slightly. She now saw your dilated pupils. And then the woman licked her lips.

That action right there nearly made you kiss the woman right there. But you contained yourself, sitting back again and retracting your hand.

Your gazes interlocked, your energy’s syncing up.

“I’m glad we decided to still have dinner.” Melissa breathed out.

“Me too,” you said just as breathless as her.

And this was by no means going to be your last dinner date with the woman.

~~~

Next Bingo Fic <—Coming Soon!!

Melissa Schemmenti Masterlist

Holiday Bingo 2023 Masterlist

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