#dash: holster

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Bruce loves his kids, even when they eat all his food , crash his cars, sneak metahumans into his city, hell they make out with random redheads in his Batmobile and he still loves them.

But his house is literally on fire and he is struggling to remember why he got children like there must be a way to return them he's begging any god for help at this point.

His wonderful children standing in front of him yelling screaming and fighting while his couch is on fire and for just one second he wishes he could go back in time and decide nope celibacy and no circus.

He's tired he's a vigilante he has twenty kids Alfred is on vacation and maybe this is why he opens his mouth. Which he would later realize was a mistake and utters these words.

I shouldn't have gone to that damn Circus

A

PIN

DROP

His eldest who was trying to pull apart his younger brother's turns tears already pooling in his eyes.

You regret me?

He sees his other children turn looks that would have killed him if he wasn't Batman. Jason's hand already on his holster. Knife in Damian's and Tim's bowstaff is out.

He rushes to his eldest Sweetheart no never I was joking I would do it a thousand Times over. No Dickie No.

Suddenly his children run faster than Barry god damn Allen. A smirk on Dicks face as he dashes.

Seriously B how do you always fall for that.

He should have Gone to Therapy

Shit the couch is still on fire

[natalievoncatte]

Lena didn’t have time for traffic. She looked up from her phone and glared at the back of her driver’s head.

“Frank, why is it taking so long?”

“I’m not Frank, Ma’am. He called out this morning.”

Lena sighed. “And your name?”

“Vincent, ma’am.”

“Vincent, why is this taking so long?”

He signed. “Traffic, ma’am. Sounds like there’s a few blocks downtown closed. Supergirl is fighting some monster or alien or something.”

Lena stopped herself from smiling softly. “Ah, well then. Anyway, might as well see if you can find us a way around. I just don’t like to stand still.”

The driver nodded.

“What do you think about Supergirl, ma’am?”

Lena sighed. “Forgive me, Vincent, but I do have some work to concentrate on, here. I’m not usually one for chitchat. I hope you don’t mind.”

She sank back into her seat and flicked to the next email. There were a lot of fires to put out. Upcoming product launches, grant applications, university partnerships, charity events, plus her own work. She was becoming so strained lately that she was seriously considering stepping down from the direct CEO role so she could spend more time in the lab, where her real passion was.

Sometimes she almost sympathized with Lex; the life of a CEO could easily drive someone insane. Lena would rather spend her days in a labcoat or doing charity work than listening to another entitled silver spoon-

“You’re going the wrong way,” Lena said, sharply.

“I’m finding a way around,” said the driver. “You know, you never answered my question, before. What do you think of Supergirl?”

Lena stuffed her phone in her pocket and thrust her hand in her jacket, freeing the concealed revolver she carried in a shoulder holster under her left arm. The partition was already going up, sealing her in.

“What are you doing?”

“Answer my question,” the driver said, through a speaker.

Lena swallowed hard. “I think she’s a hero but I don’t fully trust her. I work with her when I feel it will help people. That’s all.”

“That’s not what your mother thinks.”

“Isn’t it?” said Lena. “What does she think?”

“Are you fucking her?”

Lena barked out a laugh. “Are you serious? That’s her question?”

“Are you fucking her like you debased yourself with that little tart in boarding school?”

There was silent beat.

“She told me to say that. She made me practice saying ‘tart’.”

He sounded almost bored.

“Fuck you,” Lena snapped. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it.”

“Nothing personal,” said the driver.

Lena sighed, almost annoyed at the hiss as a thin, chemical smelling gas hissed into the car, rising around her. She forced herself to stay calm, stoic, even her pulse raced.

“I’m not afraid of you, or her,” said Lena.

She coughed twice as the world irises shut around her, dragging her down into a cold, dreamless sleep.

When she snapped awake, she was alone. The partition was open, but the gun was gone from her holster. She felt around for it, then decided to clamber into the front seat, rolling over the seats facing her. The driver was gone, of course. Heavy chains were padlocked around the car, pinning the front doors shut.

There was a tape recorder sitting on the front seat. Lena ignored it as she looked around. The car was surrounded by metal walls, and a creep sense of dread rose up Lena’s spine. She fought the panic down, dropping into the driver’s seat.

Placing the tape deck on the dash, she pushed the okay button.

“Hello, Lena,” Lilian said, in her smooth, posh tones. Lena could hear that smarmy smirk forming around her words.

“You’re probably expecting an ultimatum or an offer. There will be none. I’m through trying to bring my husband’s wayward bastard back into the fold. When you betrayed Lex again, you burned your last chance. It’s time to take out the trash, Lena. I wish I could have throttled you in the cradle, but I didn’t know about you and your mother until it was too late. It’s time to correct that. It’s too bad we won’t be there to watch.”

Watch what?

Lena sat and waited. Whoever was sent to murder her had no sense of dramatic timing. She began rifling through the car, trying to take stock of what she had, what she could use to effect an escape. Breaking the-

A sharp shriek of metal cut through her thoughts. The side walls inched forward with a screech of metal, and Lena froze, terror piercing through her like an icy spike.

Oh.

Oh God.

The walls moved slightly more, and the rear view mirrors on both sides of the car exploded. The mechanism pushing the walls strained and groaned, and that was the only mercy she had.

She was in a car crusher. In the car.

The armored structure of her town car was too heavy for the machine to simply crush, but she had minutes at most. Metal groaned in protest, shrieking around her, and the glass quivered in the doors.

Oh God. Oh God.

She wasn’t going to panic. She wasn’t going to panic. She ripped open every single compartment and cubby she could find, but found only monogrammed glassware and a bottle of champagne. There was nothing.

A random, forgotten Lexosuit would be really useful right about now.

With a sudden shriek, the car began to collapse. The bulletproof glass buckled and shattered, pelting the front seat as she rolled into the back, and the doors buckled in, tearing loose from their hinges as the floor and roof began to fold.

A sudden, ringing, frankly stupid thought came into her head, but it was her best play.

Lena Luthor filled her lungs. She took in the biggest, deepest breath of her life, a breath worthy of a championship deep diver, and screamed at the top of her lungs, until it hurt.

“SUPERGIRL!”

She had to scramble into the back seat as the engine began pushing through the dashboard, ripping apart plastic and leather, splintering buried wood. Lena ducked as the roof crumpled and dove in, like the roof of a dragon’s mouth crushing down to pulp her. She closed her eyes and curled in on herself, hoping it would at least be over fast.

A single ringing thought bit through the fear.

Oh God. Kara’s waiting for me at the restaurant.

Around her metal shrieked, and she heard the vast clang of rending machinery. The inexorable crushing stopped, the bucking limousine going still. Lena opened her eyes, peering through her fingers like a terrified child, and watched in awe as one of the crushed plates tore loose from its moorings and went flying off into the afternoon air.

Hands, strangely delicate, punched through armor plating as if it were cobwebs and ripped the broken shell of Lena’s limo apart, spreading it in every direction.

Lena had never seen Supergirl so panicked. Her eyes were too wide with abject terror, and she seized Lena in her arms, winding her cape around her, and rocketed loose from the car.

Lena’s words were lost to the wind. Supergirl was blasting into the air, flying incredibly fast- too fast. Helpless, she clung to the hero for dear life, feeling woozy as the blood drained from her skull.

She thought, oh, come on, as she passed out again.

When her eyes drifted open, Lena was lying on the ground. Groaning, she sat up slowly, feeling every movement, and realized she’d been lying on a spread red blanket with her suit jacket piled up under her head for a pillow, and she was in the woods. The sun had yielded to the sky, and someone had started a roaring fire a few feet away.

Grateful for the warmth, Lena edged closer. As she did, she realized that she was sitting not on a blanket but on Supergirl’s cape.

Blinking, she looked around.

Supergirl had her back to a tree, curled up on herself with her head hanging between her knees, arms wrapped around to cover her face, and she was sobbing quietly. Lena stared, open-mouthed.

“Supergirl?” she breathed.

Supergirl didn’t respond. Lena rose to her feet, wobbling, and discarded her heels before walking across a bed of soft leaves. She crouched in front of the weeping Kryptonian, stunned when the other woman flinched.

“Supergirl?”

“Lena?”

Her voice was small and soft, all the bravado and righteous authority gone. She sounded strangely human.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“I think I am,” said Lena. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

“No,” she sniffed. “A Tauraxian hit me in the head with a greyhound bus. Tuesday afternoon at the office.”

Lena laughed softly, and sat down. “I’m sure. What just happened?”

Supergirl swallowed hard as she looked up. “I panicked. I saw what was happening and I lost control. I’m lucky I didn’t hurt you.”

Lena put a tentative hand in on her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“More than you realize,” Supergirl sighed.

“I’m here,” said Lena.

She sat down. Supergirl looked away from her, staring I to the fire a few feet away. In starlight, with the firelight caressing her delicate features and sparkling in her blue eyes, it was impossible to miss how hauntingly beautiful she was… and how haunted herself. Supergirl looked older than her years, a deep sorrow in her eyes that Lena had never seen before.

“I’m claustrophobic,” Supergirl explained. “Not the kind of thing that you advertise.”

“We all have our fears. I have some of my own.”

Lena pushed down thoughts of a pale hand sliding beneath churning black water and shuddered.

With teary eyes, Supergirl looked at her.

“I can’t. I can’t have fears. I’m Supergirl. I have to be perfect, set an example, all that crap. I’m the perfect woman who came from the sky to do only good.”

The perfect woman, Lena thought, consuming the firelit beauty before her. No one would debate that.

Well, Lena would, maybe. There was someone more perfect, someone soft and kind with a devastating smile and laughing eyes tinged with strange sorrow. She hoped Kara wasn’t worrying about her.

It was funny how Lena always thought of Kara when Supergirl was around. Guilt, maybe. Foolish guilt; Kara was a far shore that Lena would never reach, even if she’d gladly sink in the attempt.

“Before I came to Earth, I drifted in the phantom zone in my pod. There were things outside. The pod was the size of a coffin, a tiny space to spend all that time. The phantoms would claw and slash at the canopy and the walls. I was awake for days hearing them trying to get in. Sometimes there were bigger things out there, wrapping arms around it and trying to crush their way in.”

Lena nodded. “That sounds beyond terrible. It’s okay for you to be scared after that.”

Supergirl nodded. “I can barely handle elevators sometimes.”

A jolt went through Lena, something familiar, like a word on the tip of her brain.

“I get scared when other people are enclosed, too,” said Supergirl. “When I saw something trying to crush you, I just lost it. It’s different when it’s you.”

Lena swallowed hard, trying to suppress the shiver that coursed through her body and made the small hairs on her arms stand on end.

“Back in high school, the other girls used to bully me,” said Supergirl. Once, they locked me in a closet in the locker room. I screamed and screamed until until someone let me out. Alex was furious, she…”

Supergirl went quiet, trailing off. Her eyes went wide and she jolted back.

Lena sat there for a second, unsure why…

Wait.

Alex?

High school? Supergirl went to high school?

With Alex? Alex Danvers?

Lena choked down a gasp, the wheels whirling in her head. She looked over and met Supergirl’s eyes, studying them. Her. The way the light played across her soft features, her honey hair, the little scar above her eye.

“Hi, Lena.”

“Hi, Kara,” Lena whispered.

Neither of them moved. Lena wondered briefly if Kara had ever planned to tell her, how she might have planned it. Probably not like this. Her throat bobbed.

Lena shifted closer, until they were hip to hip in a seated hug, Kara crying softly on Lena’s shoulder, powerful arms wrapped around her.

“I was scared,” said Lena. “I was afraid I was going to die and you’d be sitting at the table at the restaurant waiting for me.”

“Never,” said Kara. “I’ll always protect you.”

“And I’ll always protect you. Nobody is ever going to shove my Kara in a closet ever again.”

Kara let out a little gasp.

“Can we stay here for a while? Talk? Just you and me?”

Kara nodded. She stood and gathered up her cape as Lena moved close to the fire, and sat down, wrapping it around them both. Lena let her head fall on Kara’s shoulder.

“This makes a nice blanket.”

“It is a blanket. My cousin was swaddled in it when he came to Earth. Don’t worry, I washed it.”

Lena laughed softly, awkwardly trying to decide where to put her hands. She settled on being bold, and put her arm around Kara’s waist. Kara slipped her arms around her shoulder and pulled her in, and Lena hugged her back, tucking herself into Kara’s shoulder.

They sat for a while as the fire burned down low. It was full dark and the fire was nothing but coals.

“I was going to tell you. I wanted to.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Okay,” Kara sighed.

Lena swallowed hard, trying not to feel her blood rushing in her ears.

“You know,” she said. “You could kiss me right now, if you wanted. That seems like the kind of thing the hero does after saving the girl.”

“I could?” said Kara.

“You could.”

“Like this?”

Kara was trying to be smooth, and it made it hard for Lena not to giggle. She tipped Lena’s chin up with soft fingers and guided herself in, bringing their lips together. Kara kissed her softly, tentatively. Lena kissed her back just as softly, afraid this moment would shatter if she pressed too hard.

It was easy to shift herself into Kara’s lap, even before Kara lifted her there. Lena knew she was strong but not Kryptonian strong, and it it sent a thrill through her. She liked it.

She liked touching Kara, too. Liked feeling the bunching muscles flex under under hands, the softness of her hair, the way she gasped when she felt Lena’s lips on her throat.

“Never have I wished so badly for a tent and sleeping bags,” said Lena.

“And marshmallows to toast!” said Kara.

“Do you ever stop thinking about food?” Lena giggled.

Kara looked at her intently, and Lena shivered, not from the cold. She’d longed for Kara to see her like that, look at her like that.

“Sometimes,” Kara whispered. “Sometimes I think about other things.”

“We should probably go back,” said Lena. “We have people who are probably looking for us.”

Kara nodded.

“Do you want this to be… do you want us to be?”

“Kara,” said Lena, “I would have asked you out a year ago if I thought I had a chance. I thought you just wanted to be friends.”

Kara swallowed. “Are you saying you want to be my girlfriend?”

Lena smiled softly. “Yes.”

Kara rose and clasped her cape to her shoulders, then gently brought Lena to her feet and lifted her from the ground, holding her close.

“Not so fast this time, okay?”

“Okay,” said Kara, lifting them back into the sky.

[yawnderu]

Monster | Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader

AU! where Simon gives in to the violent sexual fantasies he has after Roba tortures him.

CW: noncon, darkfic, mind break, forced deepthroat, forced penetration, face slapping, tit slapping, rough sex, give in.

You yawned as you walked back home, half-lidded eyes looking down at your phone. 3:28AM, yet you ended the workday with plenty of tips from your little show and managed to leave earlier. You clutch your bag of singular euro bills, glancing behind you to make sure no man from the strip club was following you. Your mind rests at peace once you realize the street is fully empty.

''Fucking hell…'' You mutter softly, hand running through your hair as you open the door to your house, the alcohol and lack of sleep from the previous day catching up to you while you struggle to put the key inside. You manage to open the door, another yawn coming out of your lips as you walk inside, so, so, so close to closing the door behind you before it slams back into you, a pair of skull gloved hands pushing you back inside by the hair, his other hand closing the door behind.

''Get in, you fuckin' bitch.'' You didn't even have time to scream before he was onto you, pushing you into the couch roughly and in the midst of your struggle, you were able to see more of him. A black balaclava was covering his face, eye black tainting all over his eyes, cheeks and forehead, and those eyes… were haunting, to say the least. You could see pure madness and fury in them, yet you don't recognize them.

''If you're gonna fuckin' tease me…'' He started, ignoring your cries and pleas, begging him to stop whatever he was going to do. His fingers yanked your hair, forcing you to look up at him while your much smaller body sat helplessly on the couch, limbs in an awkward position after being forced to sit there.

''My parents are going to be home soon—'' Your sentence gets interrupted by a harsh slap on the cheek, the sound echoing all over the walls that will eventually see your demise.

''No, they fuckin' won't. I know you live alone, love.'' An amused chuckle escapes his lips as he sees the panic setting in your eyes, his hands undoing his belt as all you can do is cry, tears staining your vision and falling down your cheeks as you realize just in how much trouble you're in.

In a lapse of judgement and perhaps hope, you dare get up and try to dash for the door, and you're so close— hand on the doorknob before you're yanked back by the hair, a harsh slap being gifted to your cheek as he pushes you back onto the couch, easily removing the skimpy shirt you were wearing to reveal your chest.

''Push your tits out, come on.'' The way he's looking at you is like a predator stalking its prey, ready to pounce, so you obey. Your back arches as you push your tits out, whining and sobbing more as he started slapping them.

''That's it.'' He muttered between clenched teeth; the leather skull gloves he's wearing just making the impact even more painful. You watch with panic as he lowers his pants, hooking them right underneath his balls. He's massive— not only in length but in girth, a 9-incher covered in veins, the angry red tip seen slightly from the foreskin covering it as he angles it up to your sealed lips.

''Open your fuckin' mouth.'' He gives you a warning look and you eventually relent, glancing at the knife holster on his thigh, knowing he can easily hurt you even worse if he wanted to. His leg rests on the side of your face, leg resting on the couch as he begins to put his dick inside your mouth, gagging sounds escaping you the deeper he goes, yet it doesn't seem to bother him.

''Eat that fucking dick.'' He whispers, thrusting in and out of your mouth while holding onto your hair, guiding your head to jerk himself off with your throat. Your face is a mess of tears, snot, spit, and ruined makeup, making the scene all the more erotic for his twisted, screwed up mind.

You try your best not to throw up, silently thankful that you didn't eat much that day after being in a rush to get to work. The way his fat cock keeps slamming down hurts like a motherfucker, bruising the back of your throat with ease, but you still try not to gag too much in fear of puking down his cock.

He pulls out for a second, giving your cheek another hard slap before forcing you to lay on the couch, legs out of it while he removes your panties, leaving your dry cunt exposed. He positions himself on his knees between your legs, twisting the fabric of your skirt just enough to be able to spit on your pussy and line himself up.

''Please— please don't.'' Your pathetic cries are music to Simon's ears, his tortured mind finally feeling at peace when he covers your mouth and slams into you with one thrust. You scream into his hand, the sound muffled as he begins to move in and out, looking down at the way your cunt is swallowing him up.

''Your parents— bet they know you're a little slag.'' His voice is even deeper and more strained now that he's fucking into your cunt, his hand hesitantly moving away from your lips after giving you a warning look. You cry and whimper, small meaningless words that don't even register in his head as his hips slam back into you.

''Little fuckin' trash tart like you? They already knew you were gonna grow to be a whore.'' His movements are rough and unrelenting, the grip on your hips keeping you in place as he pounds into you with primal hunger. Despite the pain, your body is responding to the stimulation of his cock slamming into the perfect spot, slowly lubricating your cunt against your will.

''Look at you!'' He says with a small chuckle, pulling out while holding his dick with one gloved hand, pulling down his foreskin slightly to rub the tip of his dick all over your wetness.

''No—'' You cry out and he gets louder.

''Look! Fuckin' scooping your cum up.'' He scoops your wetness on the tip of his dick, rubbing it up and down before he starts to go back inside you, with a gentleness that lasts a second before he's buried all the way inside your wet, needy cunt.

''Little fucking prostitute, aren't you?'' He ignores the way you cry out ''no'' repeatedly and beg him to stop, thrusts becoming faster and more forceful, the sound of skin slapping against skin filing the room, the smell of sex and your whiny moans hanging heavy in the room as Ghost ravages you mercilessly.

He pulls out of you enough to put you in all fours on the couch, his big hand forcing your back to arch as much as possible before he slams himself back inside, hitting all the right places. You bite your lip as you try your best not to scream or moan, your body betraying you the more he fucks you with his stupidly big dick.

''I can help you— be your little pimp... sell you to all my friends.'' He's a big, burly man, too big for you to handle, you can't even imagine taking more than anyone half his size at this point, cunt abused and leaking with a mix of your own juices and his precum.

''Then we'll take turns fucking you.'' Every single one of his thrusts drives you closer to the edge against your will, his control over your movements unyielding.

''You're just a fucktoy. A piece of meat for men to use.'' His gloved hands open your asscheeks as he looks at the way his massive cock is disappearing into you, lips grasping around it for dear life.

''You're lucky I'm not fucking your ass. That's for next time. Fuckin' ass-rape you, yeah?'' You cry louder at the threat, hissing in a mix of pain and pleasure as he fucks you, hands now going to your ass while he keeps thrusting in and out, sharp spanks delivered onto your plump ass, making you whine even louder. You're trying to resist, but he's fucking you so good it's hard to grasp at the little sanity you have left. He pulls all the way out before slamming himself back in.

''Does it hurt your little pussy?'' He asked sarcastically, tone laced with fake pity while his grunts mix with your moans, the intensity of his thrusts leaving you both breathless. There's no tenderness in the way he fucks you, only a raw need of release.

''Please—'' You plead, yet you don't even know what you're begging for. For him to stop? To go faster? Everything is hazy, your mind being destroyed the same way your squelching cunt is.

''Cum as much as you want, love.'' He whispered and you scoffed, earning you another hard slap on the ass.

''Fuck you.'' You spit out and he chuckles, an eyebrow raised under the black balaclava.

''Fuck me?'' He asks, a bruising hold on your hips as he slams deeper and harder. You nod your head, soft whimpers escaping your lips.

''Yeah.'' You confirm, trying your best not to moan at the way his cock keeps touching all your nerves in the right places, cunt juice leaking down your thighs.

''Fuck me?'' He asks again, more irritated as his thrusts halt for a second. ''Yeah- Fu— fuuuck!'' Your words are interrupted as he fucks you faster, dick slipping out before being slammed back in at an unlawful pace.

'''s what I thought.'' You can tell he thinks he's hot shit simply by his cocky tone, enjoying this little game he's playing with you.

''You let anyone with a big cock fuck you like this?'' He taunts, trying to get in your head, and you let him. You desperately nod your head, and even if it's not exactly true... it's not embarrassing if you're shameless.

''Fuck yourself on my cock.'' He commands, his hips stopping all movement and you obey, like a leashed dog. Your hips push back on his cock but it's not enough no matter how fast you go, lewd moans and whines escaping your lips as you're desperate for release.

''Faster, baby... make yourself cum or I'll hurt you real bad.'' You hear the sound of sharp metal being removed from its holster and panic quickly settles in, making you slam yourself down faster and harder on his dick— not good enough for his taste. You feel the tip of the knife sliding down your spine and you stop, scared of accidentally cutting yourself.

He pushes you off his cock, making you land on your chest as he gets in a prone position, holding his bodyweight up with one hand as he leans closer to you.

''Need some help?'' His husky voice whispers, the chuckle afterwards making you sick. He wants you to admit defeat verbally, already knowing what you want, yet you're still as stubborn as a mule.

''Fuck you.'' You mutter softly and another chuckle comes out of him, lining himself back up to your cunt as your hands clench the sheets, relief painted on your face when you hear the knife go back to its holster. He slides himself back inside at an agonizing pace, hips halting once he's all the way inside.

''Just say the word and I'll fuck you stupid.'' He whispers softly, hips circling against your ass slowly making you even more desperate. You whine out, tears staining your eyes again, this time out of desperation rather than fear and resistance.

''F-fuck... please fuck me.'' You whisper out and he gives you another deep thrust, hips stopping again as you cry out in desperation.

''Sorry? Didn't catch that one, doll.'' Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupidly nice dick. You throw your pride aside, wanting to get this over with.

''Please fuck me.'' You say louder, grimacing at your pathetic cock-drunk voice, yet he listens to you for the first time. He resumes his brutal pace, ravaging you with no care, the line between pleasure and pain blurs out as he uses you for his own pleasure, dominance overpowering any sense of morality and gentleness.

''T-too hard...'' You cry out when he grabs your arms, getting on his knees while he uses your arched body to fuck himself into you. If you're complaining about it, he'll just give it to you faster.

''Shit— s-slow the fuck down...'' His grunts mix with your moans, the intensity of his thrusts driving you closer and closer to the edge while your cunt gets used and abused.

''Cum with me.'' He grunts out, balls slamming against your clit with each hard thrust, control slipping away from both of you as you're reduced to nothing but a groaning mess united as one, bodies tensing up as your vision is overcome by white, reaching what seems to be your most intense orgasm. Your vision goes dark as he covers your eyes and you can feel a pair of lips kissing your shoulder, moaning lowly without any restraints as he releases all the way inside your cunt.

''Takin' my cock so well...'' He whispers, kissing the side of your head before slowly pulling out of you. When you look back up at him, the mask is covering his face again. You close your eyes, head leaning back on the mattress as exhaustion catches up to you, not registering the way he carries you in his arms to the shower to get rid of the evidence.

[grimesgirll]

you jumped at the chance to babysit for rick grimes.

your mom didn’t have to repeat herself when she instructed you to arrive at rick’s early the next morning to give him some help with his baby girl.

not that you minded, but you babysitting for rick was a part of your mother’s larger plan to welcome the new arrivals into the community. it was an easy way for the survivors - namely their leader, rick - to warm up to everyone. and you had to put your half finished developmental psychology degree to use somehow.

you’re disappointed when you show up bright eyed and bushy tailed to be greeted by rick’s son carl, and not the dreamy sheriff himself.

carl is more than happy to pass off the bubbly little baby - who you learn is named judith- to you and dash out the door after giving you the rundown on her routine and lack thereof.

it doesn’t take long for judith to get used to you - or get into the habit of pulling your long hair. carl mentioned that she’d had a solid breakfast already this morning so you hunker down next to her playmat to tire her out in preparation for her next nap.

thoughts drift from tummy time to the absent head of the house. where was he? you knew part of the reason you had even begun babysitting was to help rick with childcare if he accepted his new position as constable, but you couldn’t think of anywhere else he would be.

and truth be told, you’re disappointed.

the first day the southerners had arrived, you looked on as rick stepped through the gates, judith in his arms. you’d been shocked to see a baby but you were even more enthralled by the hot suburban dad who’d landed on your doorstep.

not as old as your own father but nearly old enough to be, rick grimes had been blessed by age. his wild, grown out hair and tense but demanding disposition immediately attracted your attention.

it’s wrong; you shouldn’t be crushing on the man you’re babysitting for.

but you’ve been so bored!

let’s be clear: alexandria is your home. the safe zone provided more stability than the road could ever offer but survival was boring. at least inside of alexandria.

but out there?

whatever was out there was written all over the face of every new survivor your community had taken in. you’d heard bits and pieces; cannibals, maniacs on a power trip, robbers, corrupt cops even in the end of times.

and you could really see it on rick.

he had the demeanor of someone always scanning the room for the exit. you’ve never seen him so much as smile so it’s hard to imagine anyone like him adjusting or relaxing, even somewhere like alexandria.

your mother had theorized that some childcare could help ease the ex-cop’s anxieties, give him and carl a chance to breathe.

someone like that needs a lot more than a day away from the kids though. rick grimes needed an all inclusive vacation

and maybe a blowjob.

you tear yourself away from your wild thoughts about the rugged leader to turn your attention to the little girl hitting you with all of the sleepy cues at once. glancing at the clock, you decide it’s time for a nap and scoop up the eight month old. it’s not until you try to lay her down in the nursery that judith gives you your first problem.

seems like you had a velcro baby on your hands.

your hypothesis is proven correct during little judith’s second afternoon nap when you’re resigned to the living room armchair.

any attempts to place the little girl on her back, stomach, or side were met with tears. you’d just huffed and posted up on the rocking chair, ready to rock her for the duration of her nap.

it could be a pain but some babies just slept better hearing another heartbeat besides their own. it’s biology. judith is long out of the fourth trimester but that doesn’t exempt her from wanting to fall asleep in a pair of warm, snuggly arms. and besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do.

so you’re still curled up with judith when her father arrives in the afternoon.

gun holstered on his hip, the front door swings open to reveal rick grimes, looking much more like a resident of alexandria than he'd arrived. despite his new haircut and the difference that a shower makes, rick still looks pent up to you. like the feral man who'd shown up at your gates was just bubbling under the surface.

“hey there,” he greets once he registers your presence.

in his constable uniform, rick is even more handsome than you imagined all cleaned up. his chestnut curls are trimmed - courtesy of your neighbor, jessie - and he’s fully fitted like an officer of the law, and not an outlaw.

"oh, hi," you sit up and offer as much of a salutation you can being nap trapped.

"you must be deanna's daughter."

"that's me," you chirp, keeping your voice low to avoid waking up the little girl on your lap. "sorry, you caught us during naptime."

the southerner shakes his head. "no problem. looks like you got her down easy enough."

easy? you want to ask him to repeat that again but you just smile.

"i'm sorry i wasn't here earlier to introduce myself, i'm rick." the man extends his hand to you and you have to steel your nerves so he doesn't feel your hand shaking.

you're shocked when you hear confidence dripping from your voice as you give him your name. under his dark blue gaze, you want to squirm but you're holding it together somehow.

"you know, you can probably get out here early today. carl should be home soon."

you do your best to hide your disappointment. "leaving early on the first day?" you grin. "i think i like this job."

that earns you a chuckle from the sheriff who points to the sleeping baby you're holding. "i've got it from here if you wanna head out."

you don't but you put on your pearly whites and utter a peppy "sure!" handing over the still sleeping judith to her father.

"thanks for agreeing to this," rick commends you, eyes looking over the picture books and learning materials piled up in your arms. "i really appreciate having someone here to look after judith during the day."

“don’t worry about it, she’s such an angel, rick.”

"yeah, she is," he agrees, pausing to glimpse down at the napping infant. "i guess we'll be seein' you tomorrow?"

“whenever you need me.”

as his gaze follows you out the front door, rick is hard pressed to confirm if that was actual innuendo that came out of your mouth or just a generous offer.

he’s even more surprised to see you on his doorstep again after supper.

“hey,” you start. “i think i forgot one of my books here when i was watching judith. do you mind if i grab it?"

your burnt orange journal is right where you'd left it - intentionally - on the accent table in the upstairs hallway.

"oh, perfect! it's right here," you exhale in manufactured relief as if you hadn't left it there a few hours ago just for this purpose.

"is she down?" you ask rick in your best quiet voice.

he nods his hickory head of hair. "wanna see her?"

you nod enthusiastically and he leads you a few doors down the hall where you two pop your heads into a dark, curtain drawn room.

“how’s she been sleeping?” you ask innocently, following the father’s gaze to the sleeping infant lying peacefully in her crib.

“good enough,” he grunts. “all things considered.”

“how have you been sleeping?”

a chocolate eyebrow raises.

“you know, you have to get some sleep too.”

“isn’t that you’re for?”

rick must notice your reaction from the way he clears his throat and walks back his words, clarifying, “taking care of judith and all so i can,” he makes air quotes with his fingers, “rest.”

breathing deeply in an attempt to calm your racing heartbeat, you offer a smile with your exhale. “yeah, but that’s only during the daytime. she still has two wakeups at night, right?”

the man leaning in the doorway beside you shrugs. “two or three, give or take.”

“that’s a lot of time to be waking up at night.”

his ocean blue eyes twinkle as he shoots you a look and crosses his arms. “tell me about it.”

you motion towards the crib. “so i know judith likes to be held for naps, but have you ever tried room sharing with her? or even sleeping with her in the bed?”

rick gives you a quizzical look. “i thought you weren’t supposed to let them sleep in bed with you.”

“only if you’re a heavy sleeper,” you discern. “or if you drink or you’re a smoker.”

“really?”

you nod. “it’s called the safe sleep seven. its a big thing in other parts of the world." you draw an awkward breath. "not that there's anything wrong with watching her from the monitor," you refer to the device in his back pocket.

"well," rick runs a hand through his dark waves, stopping awkwardly at the end like he forgot about his haircut. "judith's always been held so it wouldn't shock me that that's how she likes to go sleep."

"did you have to snuggle her to sleep to get her down tonight?" your honeyed voice inquires curiously.

"i held her." he answers with a sigh.

"it makes sense. humans are programmed to want to be close to each other."

a silence settles over the two of you before rick clears his throat. "yeah, maybe i'll have to look into this sleep safe seven."

"i can bring a book next time i'm over," you offer. "i was a developmental psych major in college."

"so you have a degree to babysit?"

you roll your eyes. "i was supposed to end up doing research. you know," you gesture to judith in her nursery. "working with younger kids like her and figuring out what works best for them for sleep, learning to eat, the potty, play, school, all that."

"sounds like you're pretty smart," the ex-cop concludes.

you shrug. "smart enough."

with that, you two are walking down the stairs and you're heading towards the door when rick asks you if you'd like anything to drink.

you stop in your tracks, turning around on one heel. "you know, i'm kinda thirsty. i'll actually take a water."

rick's hands around the cold glass must be tattooed in your mind from how intently you're watching him. you thank him for the glass and gingerly take a sip, taking a moment to notice how his hands are braced against the counter. a cacophony of cracks erupt when the man rotates his neck and you can't help but laugh.

the older man frowns. “what’s so funny?”

“did you not hear the way your neck cracked?”

he shrugs it off. “gotta do it sometimes.”

“not like that,” you insist, glancing at his hands again, you get an idea. “why don’t you let me show you how you’re supposed to crack that?”

rick gives you a sideways glance.

“my roommate was in school to be a masseuse.”

“you don’t have to do that.” he says quickly.

you shake your head at him. “it’s not a problem. you can give me pointers.”

it’s wrong; rick shouldn’t be face down on the sofa in the house your mother had given him, getting a massage from her young twentysomething daughter.

and he most definitely shouldn’t be trying to hide an erection.

never would he have imagined getting a massage from a college student a week ago. like the haircut, rick wants to accept your community’s gifts with tact but that’s hard to do when your hands are kneading lower and lower down his back.

“when was the last time you relaxed, rick?”

the question comes out of nowhere and he almost wishes judith would pop up on the baby monitor to spare him from answering.

“can’t tell ya’.” he replied honestly.

you hum in response, observing as he twitches under your mischievous ministrations. rick didn’t have to go to massage therapy school to know that this massage is nowhere near professional. it’s downright racy as your fingers skim the top of his lower back.

god, he has a nice ass for a dad, you muse. you wonder what he’d look like fully nude on this sofa and if you weren’t touching him through his undershirt.

“that’s a little low.” the new constable remarks, calling you out.

you giggle. “i don’t know. i think the muscles down here really need some attention.”

rick hisses when you venture past his lower back and squeeze. he wants to say something but it feels so fucking good to have the tension manually worked out of his muscles.

“flip over.”

rick is about to bust out of his pants.

“flip over, please.”

the brunette finally complies; he wants to be embarrassed but doesn’t have a second for the emotion because you’re falling to your knees in front of him, pointing.

“want me to help you with that?”

“what?” he sputters.

“please, let me.”

wow, you want him. and who is he to deny you? not with how much of a roller coaster the past few have been; he should at least get to decompress.

“go ahead-,” rick doesn’t get another word out of his mouth before you’ve fully yanked his pants down and scootch further between his legs, attaching a hand to his waist. you slide his briefs down and are almost smacked in the face by the eight inch cock in front of you.

“rick…”

“if it’s too big, i understand.”

he starts to say something else but can only manage a gasp once you swallow the first few inches of his cock in your mouth. you ease your way back up to alternate between gripping his length and lapping at his precum covered head.

god, he can’t let deanna find out.

or spencer for that matter. no need to give your brother another reason for rick to be on his bad side.

he can’t be bothered to think about your family when you’re on your knees with his dick in your mouth.

“you’re doin’ so good for me, honey,” rick praises.

you moan deeply around his cock as you fit him further down your throat. it doesn’t take long for his hands to find your hair and suddenly his thick length is sliding down. you just swallow around him the best you can. you wonder if he’d believe you if you said you’d never had a dick this far down your throat.

it’s only once your windpipe starts to feel rick’s size that you raise your mouth up and off of the man in front of, catching a shallow few breaths before diving right back down to envelope him in your mouth.

rick can’t get enough of this. a hot, more than willing knockout of a woman on her knees with nothing but relieving his stress on her mind. and nothing was a hotter than a girl who actually wanted to give a blowjob, and by the way you’re hollowing your cheeks and pumping what doesn’t fit down your throat, he knows you’re loving this. a good girl like you deserves more than just his dick in her mouth.

“slow down, sweetheart.” he instructs, even though it takes a moment for you to slow the vigorous pace you’d committed to. “i wanna help you out too.”

your eyes widen with delight and he doesn’t have to tell you twice to come up on the sofa with him. instantly, rick is in between your legs and undoing the button of your jeans in order to pull them down to your ankles.

his thick cock jumps at the sight of your sopping panties.

blushing, you lift your hips as rick clutches and discards the undergarment on the floor. that’s when he gets the opportunity to take in your already soaked little hole. he can’t help himself from slipping a finger in and driving it deeper at the sound of your raspy squeaks. the same noise comes out of you once he gives you another. you must’ve wanted this for a while from the way you coat his fingers. you’re wiggling and rotating your hips like they’re on fire and he only has two digits inside of you.

“easy, girl,” he warns and you pout as you struggle not to buck your hips.

“i need you, rick,” you gasp. “feel you in my core. i’m so hot for you right now.”

you so are. rick thinks and adds another finger.

not only are you making his dick swell more than he thought it could but your insides are hot. that tight little core is choking his three fingers like a boa constrictor.

“i’m gonna come on your fingers,” you make him aware, hoping he’ll move you to his cock.

“go right ahead, sweetheart.”

so you do.

you let out a muffled sob into his shoulder. he doesn’t stop scissoring his fingers into you until he removes them from your reluctant cunt. your mouth opens automatically when he lifts his sticky digits to your mouth. enthusiastically, you let him slip them into your mouth and suck until they come out clean.

you can barely respond to the “good girl,” he’s whispering huskily into your ear because your lips are pressed to his. disregarding the fact that your pussy is dripping all over the new sofa, you fold into the kiss.

where have you been? you wonder while his tongue starts to pick a fight with yours. the fact that you’re suddenly in his lap doesn’t register until you feel his hand on the small of your back.

“you’re up,” he whispers in your ear before shifting you on top of him.

you only understand what he means when you suddenly feel like you’re being torn in half. “fuck,” you exhale, conscious not to be too loud as to wake up the baby upstairs.

from his rapid breaths into your bust, you can tell that’s holding back.

“rick,” you whine.

fingertips find your hips just as your arms wrap around his neck and you’re holding on for dear life as the constable starts lifting and lowering you on his cock.

“god,” you cry through gritted teeth.

rick is fucking you just like you thought he would.

he doesn’t wait for you to roll your hips or ride him, no, he just fucks you. yeah, you’re on top but rick is the one pounding into you from below. you feel every ridge and vein on his impossibly thick cock as you brings you up and down on top of him.

this is the fucking that you expected from the dauntless, untamed man that rolled through your gates with his equally intimidating allies. you wonder how long it’s been since rick had a good fuck. by the way he ruthlessly spears you on top of him, you know it’s been months at least. you conclude it probably wasn’t for his lack of skill though, not with how he maintains a delicious pressure on your clit with those same digits he used on you earlier.

your core is calling again: this time it’s lava hot. whatever tension rick had you dripping at earlier is no comparison to the overwhelming internal buzz pulsing inside of you.

“fuck, honey, you’re gushin’ around me.”

you look down. he’s right; you’ve made a slick mess of both of your laps. the words to respond don’t make it to your mouth because rick is once again picking up the pace.

every time you coil around him, rick just adopts a more devastating pace. it’s like after months of going without, he’s doing everything in his power to be as deep inside of you as possible. any deeper and he’d be back in your throat.

“you gonna come again on my cock, baby?” the brunette murmurs in your ear.

“yes, sir.” you croak, not having the capacity to comprehend what your words were doing to him. unless your body and the mind of its own it had counted.

your core is reacting right on time to rick’s consistent teasing. “that’s it,” he encourages, applying even more pressure despite your shaking legs. every time you sink down onto him, you feel full to the hilt.

“ah, fuck.”

rick’s orgasm hits before your finale; nonetheless, his tightening embrace and desperate thrusts into you are just what you need. the contrast of your hot core with rick’s warm cum should make you sick with worry and maybe something else but you’re too fucked out and drawn into your peak to care.

sweat coats your brow and your hair is sticking up in every direction but you’re just swallowed up by the tightening in your core. swallowed by how full you feel. you feel like you could make even more of a mess on top of rick.

the jolt that reverberates through your core this time is galvanizing. you wonder if there was anything before this orgasm.

head laid forward against his chest, perfectly glistening tits rising and falling with each full breath, you are at peace. who knew that relieving rick of his stress could bring you so much pleasure?

and when you look up at him, all you can do is offer a pupil blown smile.

he might just like alexandria.

[dadbodbuck]

fine, you've forced my hand!

It’s by some miracle that Buck doesn’t show his hand the instant he turns on the lights to see him sitting in the corner chair of his hotel room.

“They’ve got you in some pretty shitty digs, Evan,” he says, and Buck fights tooth and screaming nail to hold onto his composure. “Nash so low on funds he had to put you up in a crusty motel?”

“Agent 217,” Buck says, hand itching for his comm. He knows better, knows that 217 has his service weapon tucked neatly away in a holster at his side, knows he’d be dead before he could click on to make the call. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Please, call me Tommy,” 217 says with an innocent, dashing grin, even inch the handsome James Bond everyone assumes Buck must be. “You have something I want.”

“Like we’ll ever tell you anything,” Buck scoffs, “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

217—Tommy, and why would he give Buck a name to call him?—stands, and stalks over. “Who says I’m after information?”

Buck swallows, tensing himself for a fight. “So, what, this is a hit? Are you here to gloat?”

Tommy continues walking, appraising Buck where he stands in his unassuming civvies. Jean jacket, cotton tee, khakis, tennis shoes. Compared to Tommy’s government-issued slacks, crisp button-down, and polished shoes, Buck feels a little underdressed. He glances down as Tommy rounds his back and leans forward to whisper. “You were at the boardwalk tonight. I know what Nash is after. Going up against the entire establishment, Evan? That’s a suicide mission.”

And—okay. Contrary to popular belief, being a spy (“Intelligence Agent,” Bobby always insists) doesn’t get him laid all the time. He’s actually been going through a bit of a dry spell, with the recent push towards leaking the project they’d been a part of before they went rogue. They just need a little more information, a little more time. Point being, it’s been a fucking goddamn minute, and 217 is smoking. Curly hair, slate gray eyes that sparkle with dry wit, pearly white smile that is condescending, maybe, but in a way that gets Buck’s dick standing at attention. Broad shoulders, big arms, solid muscle. He could bend Buck completely in half, if he so desired. And God, Buck desires.

“Sorry,” Buck blinks, while Tommy smiles his little Cheshire Cat grin, “What was the question?”

“Oh, I’m not here for questions,” Tommy murmurs, hands slipping over Buck’s hips. “I’ve seen the way you watch me, Evan. You’re not exactly subtle. It’s a wonder Nash still employs you.”

“I’m not hooking up with a fucking Fed,” Buck says, even as he gasps with the way Tommy leans down to mouth at his neck.

“Kinda sounds like you are,” Tommy grins, obnoxiously smug, “Besides, weren’t you a fucking Fed three years ago?”

“People change,” Buck says mindlessly, “Fuck, touch me.”

“As you wish,” Tommy replies, sounding affected for the first time that night. Buck catches a glimpse of them in the standing mirror in the entryway, sees the way Tommy’s eyes are blown dark over his shoulder. Watches his hand snake down his front, gently palm over the (frankly, humiliating) bulge in his pants.

Buck wishes he could say it felt like nothing. It would be so nice to be disappointed by Tommy’s touch, when he hates the guy with a burning passion. Unfortunately for Buck’s pride, it’s electric. Tommy’s hand is firm and warm on his dick, even through the layers of fabric.

“They told me about your reputation,” Tommy breathes, “Told me about Agent Buckley, back in the day, sleeping with marks more often than tailing them.”

Okay, so maybe sometimes being a spy got him laid. “It was very effective,” Buck says defensively, “Got a lot of good intel. Why, you want to see what all the fuss was about?”

“You know what they say about curiosity and cats,” Tommy muses, “And satisfaction bringing them back.”

Buck hums, and loses the last tenuous grip on his dignity. “I could blow you.”

“You mean I’d get a blowjob and spared the sound of your voice?” Tommy says, pressing a little harsher into Buck’s clothed dick, delicious friction pushing a moan out of Buck’s mouth. “Is there a downside?”

“Your dick will be extremely close to my teeth,” Buck returns, “And I don’t want you to come down my throat. I want you to fuck me.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Tommy simpers, before dropping his saccharine tone for a bossy: “Now get on your fucking knees.”

And, really, who told him that Buck’s favorite part of his 1.0 phase was when his marks would boss him around? Against his will, his knees give out, and he drops down, watching himself kneel in front of Tommy before reluctantly breaking eye contact with the mirror, shuffling around to a face full of tented polyester.

“You’re so fucking obnoxious,” Buck says, even as he leans forward to run his tongue along the outline of Tommy’s cock. It’s mouth-watering.

“I thought the point of sucking cock was to have your mouth occupied,” Tommy scoffs, hand fisting Buck’s hair a little meanly. Buck wishes he could stop another moan from spilling out of his mouth, but the pain hits him just right.

With fingers that are still thankfully on board with what he’s doing, Buck deftly undoes Tommy’s belt buckle, unzips his pants, and marvels at the thick, long cock that he pulls from his boxers. Oh, he’s going to have so much fun with this. He licks up the underside of Tommy’s dick, slow and wet, and revels in the way his hand tightens in his hair.

It’s like riding a bike, or something, probably. Buck finds himself sucking on the head of Tommy’s cock like he was born for it, bobbing his head down the length of him, letting the filthy, wet, clicking noise of his throat echo around the hotel room. It must be like riding a bike, because the other option is that Buck really did need Tommy this bad. And it can’t be that. Bobby would skin him alive.

“Jesus,” Tommy swears, hips hitching into Buck’s mouth. It’s almost like he’s trying to hold back for Buck’s sake, which is… cute. Certainly nicer treatment than he’s used to, but he can’t decide whether that’s a good thing or not.

Either way, he can’t handle tenderness. Not now, and maybe not ever. He doesn’t get to have attachments. That much is clear. He sees the way Eddie and Hen and Chim worry over their loved ones. This way is better. He’s already got Christopher and Maddie and Jee-yun to worry about.

Buck pulls off Tommy’s cock with a loud pop. “You can fuck my throat. It’s okay. I won’t break.”

“I hate to think of what your team would do to me if I broke their favorite toy,” Tommy chuckles, “Especially Diaz. I hear he’s creative.”

“Do me a favor and don’t mention him with your dick next to my face,” Buck rolls his eyes, desperately ignoring the way his dick twitches at the mention of Eddie’s name, “I’ll be fine. Take me for a ride. I know you want to.”

“Oh, you’re gagging for it,” Tommy surmises, guiding his cock back to Buck’s mouth. Buck, unable to deny it, willingly goes down on Tommy, letting him set the pace as he fucks leisurely into Buck’s mouth.

Tommy pushes him down further, and Buck relaxes into it, until he can feel the warmth of Tommy’s hip where his nose pushes into soft flesh. “Holy shit,” Tommy says, “I’m starting to get why this was so effective, I think.”

Buck stays until black spots start dancing at the corners of his eyes, pulling back and heaving breath, and then returning to his spot with Tommy’s cock all the way down his throat. It’s alarmingly comfortable. For the first time since his team went AWOL, he wishes he wasn’t in too deep to quit. He could spend an entire lifetime sitting at Tommy’s feet with his dick choking him stupid.

He gets maybe three more off-breath-down reps in before Tommy is pulling him off by the hair. “Okay, if you still want me to fuck you, we have to take this elsewhere.”

“Yeah, I want,” Buck croaks, voice alarmingly fucked out. Tommy helps him up—strangely chivalrous for a man who has tried on multiple occasions to shoot him with a gun—and they tumble into bed together. If it weren’t for the fact of who both of them were, it might even be romantic.

Tommy has his mouth on Buck before he can get another word in edgewise. Buck starts scrambling to get the rest of their clothes off, and shirts, pants, underwear, and shoes end up scattered around the room.

“Lube? Condoms?” Tommy asks as Buck bites at the junction of his neck and jaw.

“Side table,” Buck says, “You don’t have to use a condom. I haven’t had sex in a while.”

“Poor thing,” Tommy says, faux-pitying, as he rifles through the drawer of the side table, “You must be so pent up.”

Honestly, Buck’s just used to his marks not wanting to use condoms, and dealing with the potential fallout later. Still, he’s kind of disappointed when Tommy pulls them out of the drawer along with the lube packets.

“You’re adorable when you pout,” Tommy grins, pressing a sickly sweet kiss to Buck’s cheek, “I’m using a condom.”

“Fine,” Buck huffs, rolling his hips up into Tommy’s, “Just hurry.”

Tommy, thankfully, wastes no time in emptying a lube packet into his hand and swiping it up against Buck’s hole, slicking the way for his fingers. He’s clearly no slouch at this, either, thick fingers deftly opening him up beneath him, forearm muscles flexing so deliciously.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck,” Buck says, squirming as Tommy slides his fingers in and out in intoxicating rhythm, “Fuck me, Tommy, Tommy—”

“Finally, you’re saying something worth listening to,” Tommy smiles against Buck’s neck, “Never thought I’d get to hear the great Evan Buckley beg for my cock.”

“It’s—ah—it’s a specialty,” Buck pants, rolling his hips as he aches for more, for a harsh little sting, for something to distract him from the way this is starting to feel too much like intimacy and not enough like fucking.

“Maybe I’d like to hear some more,” Tommy says, pulling away to roll a condom on and slick himself up.

Buck, suddenly cold and empty, lets the words fall unabashed from his mouth. “Oh, please, Tommy, I’ll make it so good for you, it’ll feel so good, just need you in me, just need—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Tommy says, just on the wrong side of tender, “I know what you need. Hold still for me.”

And then there’s the thick press of Tommy’s cock against Buck’s hole. Tommy slips in with a stretch that has Buck mewling something embarrassing in the back of his throat, and leans forward as he slides deeper, inch-by-burning-inch, encouraged by the way Buck grips at his biceps.

“Breathe,” Tommy says as he bottoms out, at which point Buck realizes he’s been stuck with his head tipped back and mouth open. He sucks in a gasping breath, relaxing under Tommy’s bulk. Tommy is warm above him again, haloed by the dim hotel light, so close Buck can feel his breath on his cheek.

“Move,” Buck demands, squirming. Tommy seems only too happy to oblige, mouth finding Buck’s again as he starts to roll his hips into him. It’s a slow, languid fuck, but still enough to have Buck seeing stars.

“This how you got all those people to tell you what they were up to?” Tommy asks, a hand roaming down to pinch Buck’s nipple, coaxing a groan out of him. “You’d just lay here all pretty and let them take what they wanted?”

“Nnnnngh—usually they wanted me on top,” Buck says around a reedy moan, “But yeah, that’s the general idea.”

“You take it so well,” Tommy murmurs, snapping his hips in with just a little more force, “Makes me wonder how many times you’ve done this before. How many times you begged on your knees—how many times you’ve been a slut for terrible people.”

“You’re in perfectly fine company, I can assure you,” Buck says, trying to regain some of his composure, “Art thieves, mob bosses, hackers. You work with monsters every day, why can’t I sleep with them?”

“I’ll have you know that the monsters I work with are working for the greater good,” Tommy says, with a huffed laugh, “And if you keep talking about them I’m not going to let you finish.”

“Oh, you’re not going to let me?” Buck says, “I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of taking what I want, too.”

“I’m sure you are, stud,” Tommy says, in that same condescending tone of voice that goes right to Buck’s dick. He fucks into him harder, right at the perfect angle, and Buck can’t help the pathetic moan that spills out of his mouth.

“You—were—talking—a little—too much,” Tommy grunts between thrusts, slamming into Buck again, and again, “Just lay back—and fucking take it.”

Like Buck could ever want to do anything else. He’s well aware of the fucked-out little uh, uh, uh noises that Tommy’s forcing out of him, but he’s far too gone to be embarrassed about it. This is the best fuck he’s had in years, he could care less what he sounds like or looks like right now.

Not that Tommy seems to mind. If anything, given the way he’s latched onto Buck’s neck like a goddamn vampire, he likes that Buck’s a writhing mess beneath him. Buck’s nerves are lit up, from the pain of Tommy’s less-than-gentle biting, from the way Tommy nails Buck’s prostate with every thrust, from the skin-on-skin he hasn’t had in so long.

His orgasm sneaks up on him. Usually, he’s a lot better about announcing it, giving his partners time to decide what they want, but Tommy is—Tommy is grunting and his back muscles are flexing under Buck’s fingers and his cock fills him so beautifully and Buck didn’t even think he could come without something on his dick, but—

Belatedly, as Buck rockets towards the clouds, he realizes that maybe there is something special about Agent 217. 

Buck comes down slowly, to the feeling of hands gently petting his sides, and a softening dick sliding out of his ass. It’s gross, leaves him feeling sticky and a little used, but he can’t bring himself to care that much about it at all. To his complete shock, he feels Tommy rummaging around for something, and then the soft cotton of his shirt wiping the cum off of his stomach, and the lube from his ass.

“It’s okay, Evan,” Tommy says, gentle, soft, “You can rest.”

Buck, despite every ounce of self-preservation that says he’s leaving himself completely vulnerable, does.

He wakes to an empty room. Nothing seems amiss, so despite the deep humiliation and regret, Buck packs his things (luckily, finding his hiding spots untouched) and heads back to the rendezvous point.

Athena is waiting for him at the café, in streetwear that looks unnaturally casual on her. “Got everything?”

“Check and check,” Buck says, handing her the dossier, “Got some lovely pictures. The sunset was especially gorgeous last night.”

“You sound like you could use a tea with lemon and honey,” Athena winces, “You coming down with something?”

“No,” Buck says, fighting against the urge to flush.

Athena passes him a knowing smile over her coffee. “Thanks for this, Buck. I’ll let Bobby know you came through, and he’ll want to meet with you later. I think we’re getting close.”

“Good,” Buck sighs, “I can’t wait for this whole mess to be over. I never thought I’d say this, but it would be nice to do some paperwork for once.”

[bloodandthestars]

・✧ — 𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

tags: NO SPOILERS!, antihero! reader? i guess?, mention of blood, takes place before across the spider-verse, will be edited, one mention of something sexual but nonetheless mdni anything else I’ll let you read to find out <3

author’s note: helllooooo everyone! this is the longest thing i’ve written for my blog yet. he’s been rotting my brain heavily and i needed it to spill out somewhere. do let me know if you enjoy what’s implied and if you’d like more. a lil vague incase there is a future series. I love this but at the same time……anyways- translations and taglist are at the bottom of the post. enjoy!

wc: 4.5k :: masterlist next

BZZT. BZZT.

“Miguel,” You purred. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It’s Important.”

It always was. “…And what kind of call is this?”

“Work-related.”

You hum. “Pity.”

“You still have ways into Oscorp?”

“Always do.”

“Good, I got a job for you. Meet at the usual spot at 9.”

A chill runs down your spine from the light wind passing through the night. You awaited your contract atop the Alchemax building, looking down at the neon lit city below. It was bright with cybernetic blues and greens, every now and then you could hear a hover car or two whirl by, only to miss it blend into the rest of the blurs flying by. The sight could never bore you, not in how it could change every day. That was the nuance of Nueva York, after all. Nothing ever rests, not even the wicked.

Nor the man that lands behind you with a thud of his feet and a slight grunt. He walks to your side in silence, taking in the city as you do. The sharp points of his eyes narrow. “You’re sure you’ll be able to get in this time?”

You turn to send him a look. Your hand raises as a drive twirls around your finger. “If you thought I couldn’t, you wouldn’t have hired me.”

He lets out a dry huff you take as amusement. His head turns to look at you. “Alright, you got me there.”

You barely catch the way his hand flies out to grab the device from your hand. His reflexes were always quick, but in this rare moment, you were just a bit quicker. Your hand is mere centimeters away from his in the air, catching you both in surprise. Your shocked expression slowly turns to one of accomplishment. His mask shifts, but knowing him, he was deadpanning under it. You chuckle, placing the drive in a pouch among many holstered onto your thigh. His eyes drag up from it’s placement to your eyes. You place a hand to your hip. “You ready?”

He places a foot to the edge of the roof. “Will you be able to keep up?”

Now it was your turn to huff, placing a prepared foot out as well. “Always.”

He gives you a final look, a lingering one you can’t quite place your finger on. He takes off and you’re quick to follow. The route felt routine to you both at this point, jumping over small spaces between buildings that eventually begin to stretch in distance. Your feet rush in a dash, swiftly jumping over over air conditioners. Miguel takes to running on the side of the buildings before webbing back to the rooftops alongside you. The two of you move when a roof entrance divides you, the heroine using his webs to ease his momentum after jumping over another conditioner back to your side. You slide under piping, coming up to jump in unison to the final rooftop. He lands on his feet, while you need to roll to slow yourself down. Both of you rise at the same time, looking up to the greenly lit skyscraper with geometric lettering spelling ‘OSCORP’ on its side.

“Which floor?”

He responds with a nod to the higher top of the building. “84th.”

You tilt your head to think. “We’ll have to climb the back side of the building. There are enforced windows starting at level 80.”

You feel a hand on your waist, causing your head to whip in his direction. You had to crane your neck slightly to meet his eyes. “Thought you said this was work-related?”

“Hush, descarada. You know what I’m doing.”

You roll your eyes, discontent with him ruining your fun. You hook your leg at his waist and he moves his hand to lower back to keep you stable. With one arm he’s able to secure you at his hip. You hook your arms around his neck and you both look up at each other. Curse how close he is and the way his voice gets low to affirm to you. “You good?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

His free hand shoots out a web, not wasting time with flying through the air. No matter how many times you’ve swung with him during an operation, your grip still tightens around him in a sudden jolt once you’re flying through gravity. The rush used to take your bones in a wave of nausea, but now it’s all adrenaline that flows through your body. You hoped that was why your heart quickened just then.

Miguel goes by your instructions, swing to the back of the building. From there, he gets you both to the windows of the 80th floor. You let out a breath of relief at the emptiness of the lab. Pulling your gadget from your other thigh holster. It had a metal hook at its end and with one push of a button, it closes in its claws for something thinner with a green light atop it. Your thumb rolls back the dial on its side, clicking another button. In a green flash, the two of you are inside the lab floor, silent and desolate. Your gadget goes back to your thigh, turning over your shoulder for any signs of trouble.

“Are you ever gonna tell me where you got that thing?”

You turn to look at him, a playful shrug rolling off your shoulders. “You looking to buy one?”

He sets his hands in the air, immediately shaking his head. “Nevermind-”

“I mean if you really are looking to, I can get you set up-”

“No, no, I already know wherever you got it, I don’t need nor do I want to know.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Miguel? Breaking one of his rules— what was it again?” You place a hand under your chin. “Oh yes, ‘don’t ask questions’?”

“And you’re all the more reason why the rule still applies.”

You both reach the emergency stairs however, a handprint was needed to unlock the door. You pull a small glowing blue rectangle that looks similar to glass. A press of your thumb and a hologram emits from it. You give it a swipe, the image shifting through dozens of handprints. You stop at a familiar bulky one. Facing the glass device to the lock, it takes the holographic limb into its code and clicks to unlock.

“How does it know it’s real?”

“You lurk around the underground long enough, and you’ll see that people are in the market for all kinds of things.” You place the glass back into your pocket. “Holographic or fake skin included.”

Miguel raises a brow— not to say it wasn’t possible. He’s sure that with the right elements, tools, it could be possible. But how people got ahold things like that weren’t out of the highly advanced labs he worked in, he didn’t know. The thought only made his stomach turn. Maybe he should stick to his own rules.

You both head up the steps, going from level 80 to level 84. From the window of the door, the two of you peer out to see an empty floor. It was safe to say that it seemed too easy. Only a few guards patrolling up and down in their routines. You look to Miguel, who looks right back at you. You shrug. “There’s always a patrol going on.”

He looks back to the glass. “Seems more than usual.”

“Maybe it’s because they’re starting to notice a few things going missing.”

“….Maybe.”

You tilt your head at him. “What? You can’t take them?”

His head turns to you, the red of his mask narrowing. “I can take them.”

You smile at his annoyed tone, patting his strong shoulder.

The hallway is silent for the six guards on duty tonight, say for the air conditioner buzzing in the background. Guns are held strong in their grip, pacing back and forth in their routine.

THWHIP!

Three lines of webs block the muzzles of three guns. The guards get tense, looking up to see where the webs came from. They didn’t have time to think, much less act— the lines steal their weapons from their hands, clanking to the ground along with a guard. The other three guards turn, only for their muzzles to be stuffed with webs as well. You slide past the first three, going for the second row. In your hands were clear cut batons, whacking at two guards’ knees. Your baton lets out a hard crack from an upper cut from below and dropping a guard in an instant. You use your hand to balance yourself as your calves lock around the other guard’s neck. You flip him down to the ground, landing you in a kneeled position to throw your baton into the nose of the final upcoming guard.

With a hard smack, he goes to the ground. You stand on your feet, walking over to grab the baton. You turn to Miguel, who’s got his three guards tied up. You look down to the baton, a red liquid causing your stomach to fall. Turning back, you see the guard’s nose as the source. Panic settles in your head, until you see his chest rise and fall. You let out a sigh of relief, quickly wiping the blood off of on the latex of your thigh. You look up to see Miguel, who finally turns to you after you it clean. You share a look to each other before you shrug. “Poor bastards.”

You both begin walking to down the hall to the entrance when he responds. “Never saw it coming.”

The steel doors greet you with shiny meshed reflections of your bodies. You use the holographic glass again, and the doors slide open with a cool hiss. The lab was vast, with a control center in the middle with scaled monitors larger than you both. They light the space in a light blue hue spreading to its very corners. You both approach the system after a cautious walk.

“Think it’s my turn to show off.” The spiderman pulls his wrist device into view, displaying a small gold hologram and pressing away at data.

You lean back with the computer behind you, arms crossed. “Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

“Was I showing off before?” You ask with a playful tone.

He huffs at your words, tapping away until his tech. After a moment, his hand goes out. You know he wants the drive, but making things easy for him was never something that entertained you. Your finger raises with the drive’s key ring around it, waving it. “Please?”

“Do you take anything seriously?”

“None of that sounded like please.”

You sense another deadpan across his face. You roll your eyes, throwing into his grasp. “Don’t act like you’re not familiar with the word, now.”

He starts a little, whipping his head back to the computer system. You hear him grumble under his breath, something along the lines of “-mierda, me llevarás a la tumba-”

It causes you to let out another laugh for the night, a sound that he’s gotten used to.

You watch as he plugs the drive into an insert in the computer’s system. Various windows of information pop up on the monitors, lines of words you don’t exactly understand in a quick scan from your eyes before it vanishes. It wasn’t your job to know anyhow. Whatever a client needed, whatever he hires you for, is a trade of information for his eyes only. That never stopped your curiosity however.

You look away, eyes set to the steel doors. A ponding in your chest for the unexpected, only soothed somewhat with his company next to you in the long moment of silence.

The look on your face soon narrows as he’s still at work. “Almost done?”

“Yeah, just waiting for it to give me access.”

“To?”

“A chip.” He states plainly.

You open your mouth to ask more questions, only for you to be stopped by his body tensing. You raise a brow to him and you follow his line of sight back to the steel doors. The two of you remain eerily still, awaiting what was the cause for his tension. It was quiet, but you knew better than to trust that over his enhanced senses. You both glance to each other with caution.

You start. “Is someone-”

He tenses much worse this time, on guard in a flash. “Yes, they’re outside the door with-!”

The doors open and from its crack is thrown a silver canister. As soon as it hits the ground, a clouded air is released. Your nerves feel like they’ve gone ablaze. A hiss cuts into your thoughts, causing you both to turn to the computer. A capsule releases from system, and you grab what you assume is the chip he needs. The smoke only grows larger in size. Before you can say a word, he gets close, a hand over your nose and mouth. He tells you in a low voice of urgency. “Behind the computer, now.”

You both move quickly, his hand still atop your face. Placing your backs to the monitors, you try and take a moment to regain your mind for a plan. It’s difficult when you feel your heart try to rip out of your chest. Your eyes glance up to him as his body remains close to yours, an ear out to the approaching sounds.

“We’re going to have to-”

A clank sound interrupts him as another canister lands right in front of you both. Smoke begins to seep out of it at a rapid pace. Your throat began to burn, eyes watering as you tried to force down a cough. It was no use, you erupt with the sound out of reflex. He looks to you. “Don’t-”

His spider senses take in the next one being thrown and shoves you to the other side of the lab. He kicks the second one far from either of you. When the third one flies in the air, a web grabs hold of it and throws it back over the computer, where grunts and yells could be heard. In the mists of getting control of your vision, you hear him yell to you. “Go! The stairs!”

You scrape up to your feet, and the last thing he sees of you is your fleeing backside.

Miguel was a natural in situations under pressure. He had been in labs with mixtures of chemicals that would have to be settled in seconds, fought against robots and maniacs. He could handle this.

His face remained focused, shooting out webs as soon as an idea flew through his head. The sticky components lands on a lab stool, and with a grunt, he swings it into the back of the computer monitor. It flickers in its blue light, cracking and falling in the way of the assailants. He turns, eyes darting around the environment. His eyes light up to the emergency exit, with no other choice but to push through it.

A climb of walls, a sling from webs up the steps, and the Spider-man busts the rooftop door. Whirls of technology snap his attention to what’s in front of him— light blaring in his face with a large amount of guards surrounding him.

Miguel was a natural in situations under pressure. He’s done plenty of operations, fought when the world was a blur around him hundreds of feet in the sky. A wave of guards what a slight to his determination, but his mind…was elsewhere. He removes most of their weapons out of the equation, taking them in clusters with his webs. He lands a punch here, and slam with his glowing webs there. He had yet to see you or hear you yell out to him. Hand to hand combat increased, blows getting harder in their impact, grunts slipping past his lips out of increasing frustration. It felt like there was no end in sight, not that it mattered anyhow. His mind felt as though it was sinking in the tangled ropes of his paranoia. The longer time went by, the more restless Miguel got and the more determined he was to get through his enemies with vigor.

“I GOT IT!”

You shout from across the rooftop, the chip in your clasped hand. A red and blue mask turns to in your direction, relief washing over him like a flood. Between you both were many henchmen flooding from the roof’s entrance, all set to standing in your way. He nods to you through the chaos, and you nod back. The two of you run on the sidelines until you hear Miguel faintly shout. “Get over here!”

“Working on it!” You shout back. Eyes dart through the growing group of goons to find a clear path. His eyes are set on you the whole time, watching your face as the cogs go to work.

Your eyes squint, heart beating out of your chest, but you have a plan— somewhat. You knee one person out of the way, moving through the space to shove through a few more. Two step right in front of you. Not losing your momentum, you sweep your leg under one of them and use that same leg to balance the other into a high kick. It creates somewhat of a clear path for you, trying to get closer and closer to the man you’ve been working with all night. You catch a glance of him pummeling through a few men, giving you a slight of relief and all the more determination to pull through.

You’re almost there, goons try to grasp at your suit, tools, or mask, and you’re barely able avoid their invasive touches. You waste no time pulling out your hooked tool, clicking a button to throw out a long thick wire. It wraps around the ankle of a man and you pull hard. He falls, knocking into others like pins as he’s dragged across the concrete. Your path has never been more clearer. You click your wire back into your tool, eyes catching Miguel’s.

He takes out one more enemy before jumping off of the roof. Your feet quicken, taking after him and taking your leap.

The skyscraper’s height furthered your velocity downward. Wind blew into your face, strong in its force. Your tool wouldn’t be far enough to reach the buildings surrounding you. Your body reacted, stomach twisting and turning in an effort to scream at you the very danger you were in. But you? You calmly shut your eyes.

In an instant, a strong arm catches you as intended. You open your eyes, hooking your arms around his neck to secure yourself to his body. You squeeze the device you both needed into your palm to confirm your grip. With one hand, he swings from building to building to ensure some distance between you and Oscorp. After a few more buildings, Miguel slows down to a roof with a large neon sign right at its front. The momentum fades, allowing you both to land behind the bright lettering.

You pull away from his side, hands going to your hips as you caught your breath. Your chest rises and falls with rough exhales while he was silent in gathering his own air. After a while, you catch his voice speaking to you. “You still have it?”

You swallow, nodding and throwing the device to him. He catches it with ease. His large fingers examine the data card. Gold lines so microscopic but filled with the intelligence needed for his work to protect others. He slips it away into an empty wrist capsule, eyes flickering back up to you.

You placed your back against the sign only a few steps away from him, chest slowing to normalcy. Your eyelids were low, lashes soft in their curl. He gains his focus back when your irises appear from them.

“How many times do I have to catch you staring for you to realize you’re terrible at being subtle?”

Your teasing words cause his mask to shift, knowing all too well he was displaying his usual frown. “I can be subtle. You, on the other hand, can’t turn on a filter if you had one.”

An amused smile appears on your face, causing another sudden wave of relief over him. You take a glance to the sky before looking back at him. “Yeah, but that hasn’t kept you away now has it?”

Miguel grunts, and you turn your head away with a laugh.

The back of the neon sign behind you illuminates strongly in the night, red light seeping through the crevasses of the letters to give your vision clarity. Your body regained air in your lungs but the bruising was beginning to ache from your complications from getting to the roof. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Miguel’s arm holding his side. Your brows scrunch together. Just what was so important to risk a hailstorm raised on them from Oscorp? You knew from your previous encounters, that he wasn’t just hitting the large corporation, but any place with the highest level of technology in the city.

You begin after a beat of silence. “I mean, I can’t have some idea of what you get from the jobs you-?“

“No, you don’t”

Your eyes turn to a glare. “Watch that tone.”

“You know, you being demanding isn’t exactly an ease to deal with-”

“Would you like to do something about that?” You take a step closer, looking up to his tall stature. Your gaze is set to where his eyes were, feeling his eyes look directly back at you.

“I..” His brows knit together. You know what you meant, he knew what you meant. It takes him a second to speak with a retort, locking his jaw. “…not here.”

You purposely look to his masked lips, then back to his eyes. “…Thought so.”

Miguel takes a hard and long swallow, shutting his eyes.

"So, what's the deal with that chip?" You ask.

Miguel opens his eyes when he clears the clouding in his mind. Not fully, but enough to attain what you asked. He hesitates for a moment before responding. "It's...complicated. Let's just say it's valuable and leave it at that."

You raise an eyebrow, sensing there's more to the story. "Valuable how?"

Miguel shakes his head. "I can't say. It's not safe."

You cross your arms. “What we did tonight, or what we do every other night for that matter, isn’t safe either.”

“I know that but-” He lets out a sigh of frustration, his mask fading off his face in squares of blue light. Words never were his strong suit and his paranoia didn’t help his case on which words to choose. Or for you to know what he has planned. You were different, he knew that. And yet, he still eyed you with caution. It was in his nature.

You look him the eye, knowing he was weighing his options in his head. His jaw relaxes, voice settling into a softer tone. “I’m doing what I’m doing to protect people. All the things I’ve had you get? They help with that. You know I’m not- building some criminal empire or making some kind of genetic super weapon-”

“Really? Because those were only two of my theories-”

“I’m not-” To others, they would take his tone as immediate annoyance. But you know it’s laced with a slight of amusement that immediately disappears.

He hopes it’s enough to satisfy you, to keep you out the possibilities of pulling into a growing web of complications. But he knew you just as much as you did him, both akin to an unshakable stubbornness.

“I think you can do better than that.” You step forward into his space again. His larger stature is unmoving, but he could feel warmth radiate from your body at the familiar closeness. His eyes go down to yours, crimson irises slowly loosing their sharp edge the longer your gazes are on each other.

“We said we don’t owe each other anything…no matter what we do with one other. And I get that.” You tilt your head at him. “But if more jobs end like tonight, and I can barely catch an escape-“

He’s quick to respond. “I won’t let that happen-“

“-But if,” You emphasize. “That starts to become an occurrence, I at least want to know exactly what I’m sticking my neck out for.”

He looks to your features, scanning over your unwavering expression. You can’t help but look at the way he presses his lips together. Miguel locks his jaw to think, perhaps he’d do so in order to keep the words from coming out. Eventually, he lets out a sigh. “A super computer.”

Your face scrunches, brow slowly going up. “A…super computer?”

He mutters, still looking down at you. “Yes.”

“To protect people?”

“To protect people.”

His voice was firm, supposedly closing the door as quickly as it opens. You study him, trying to go over your past jobs to try to piece an explanation together. Sadly, you couldn’t. The path you’ve gone down, your lives beginning to intertwine like a binding threads— you knew that finding out what he was up to would be wary road.

Eventually letting out a sigh, you’re disappointed but understanding. "That’ll do I suppose.”

He watches you take a step back from him, back leaning against the sign. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that he follows suit. You both look out to the vast city, lights greeting your wandering gaze once again. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes before you speak up. "You know, for someone who's always so serious, your fleeting sense of humor is enjoyable.”

Miguel huffs, chuckling soon after. "Is that your way of saying I'm not as boring as you thought?"

You grin, a sight he appreciates after your tenacious standstill. "Oh I’ve never found you boring. In need of a good fuck to let loose? Definitely.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of enjoyment in his tone. "I'm plenty loose when I need to be."

You laugh. "Sure you are. That's why you're always so tense."

Miguel smirks. "I'm not tense. I'm focused."

You give him a playful shove. "Whatever you say, Spider-man."

translations: descarada (minx), mierda, me llevarás a la tumba (fucking hell, you’ll be the death of me)

taglist: @manchuria @mezzke @rea-zxv @vvitcxen @pooiooi @jowtaro @coleseyebrows

[thehauntedetheral]

Yandere Enemies to Lovers

Requests are open!

• You and yan were detectives at x police station. You hated each other more than anything. The whole station knew this. You both were like cat and mouse chasing, teasing, mocking, always arguing with each other. You both were like a free entrainment to watch for your colleagues and senior.

• The whole station knew it was a recipe for disaster from scratch when your senior assigned you two together on a case for fake pretending to be a couple in a wedding and not any wedding but the wedding of a drug dealer's daughter where you both will be surrounded by mafia, underworld , corrupt powerful people. One mistake and you both are dead.

• The whole station has bet so much money on your failure that you decided no matter what happens you are gonna successfully complete this mission and prove all people wrong and take that money. The only problem? Your partner yan detective is a pain in ass.

• "I can do this without screwing up" you chanted many times in your mind while standing at the venue parking smoothing out your beautiful pink silk dress you had wear for your facade waiting for yan to arrive.

• Yan arrived in a few seconds wearing a dashing black suit, hair set, looking handsome. "You ready my lady?" He asks coming towards you with a huge grin. Making you glare at him.

• "You don't like my lady? What about my love?" He said teasing you. While you ignored his words and started walking towards the venue were wedding was going to take place.

• Yan put his hand on your back and started leading you forward. You looked at him and he just whispered " in loving boyfriend character". You just nodded.

• "I swear to god yan. This is important. One mistake and I will pull out my gun from holster and shoot you." You said entering the hall and taking your seat beside him.

• "Lovely. I like my woman being dominant and feisty" he whispered in your ears his hot breathe tickling your neck his faces inches away from your making you all red while he just chuckled. Definitely playing and teasing you around you thought and started paying attention to the guest present and looking for your target.

• The ceremony ended and the whole crowd was shifted to another hall for reception. Yan Detective has been working with the drug dealers, mafia people as one of their group's people undercover for months hence everyone knows him and were talking to him as a part of family. While you just stand beside him giving nervous smile. Well you were never a people's person. He is really good with people you thought. You on other hand are new and meeting them today for first time as his fake date.

• You observed how even talking with many people he never left go you. He would always touch you whether holding your hand, his hand wrapped around your waist, or behind your back. Kissing your temple or cheeks and smiling when someone says How good you two look together. He was really into character you thought.

• An grandpa flirted with you while yan said "Grandpa I respect you but stop flirting with my woman." Making everyone laugh.

• He was separated from you by some people for some separate chat when an women in her early forties came to you gushing " Oh my god you are even more pretty than yan described" the lady said complementing.

"I am sorry what?" You asked confused.

"I am sorry I just talk to much when I am excited. Well that dear boyfriend of yours always talk about you with so much love and admiration and I have to admit that you are pretty just as he said. Beautiful long hairs, pretty eyes and an adorable face." She said but excused herself when someone called for her.

Wait a second!! You were assigned to this case with him two days ago so why he has been talking about you with love and admiration long before? Pretty eyes? Adorable face? Is this the same yan colleague of yours or mafia kidnapped him and send you a duplicate one? What does all of this means?

You looked at yan seeing his tall handsome self still talking with the group of men which took him. Is it possible that he likes you? You thought but soon threw that idea out of your mind thinking it might be one of his pranks on you again.

Your senior informed you through your ear piece in disguise of earring telling you yan has collected enough evidence and the team outside the hotel is ready to enter and strike now. "Be ready officer." He said before cutting off.

You feel yan being beside you now and whispering "You got the message from senior?"

You simply nodded looking forward not ready to look in his eyes.

The door burst open with your team surrounding every exit and screaming to surrender and to get down on floor. You took your gun from your holster hidden under your dress and pointed at them while yan detective doing the same with a evil grin as everyone was surprised to get to know he was from police side. He really played well as his character.

After some screaming, cursing, bullets flying your team arrested most of them some ran but you were satisfied with the people you guys catched.

After everything under wraps You got to your senior and thanked him for putting you on this case as it will definitely increase the chance of your bonus. But your senior's words shocked you. "You should thank Yan Detective. I told him he can take anyone with him. It was all his plan. He chose you not me."

You got of his office and moved towards your table before taking a peek at yan detective on his table working. Thinking " Is it true? That this man might like me?" Well as a good detective one thing is sure you are gonna find out the true feelings of yan detective about you no matter what it takes.

Oh baby you have no idea how badly this man is bad for you. He teases, argue, pranks, fight with you just to get your mere attention. This man will do anything to get your attention. Good luck with finding out about his feelings for you!

Want part 2? Let me know through comments.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

[myzticbean]

Sex pollen made me do it

When I saw the Misty Invasion card about the protocores (and how they can seduce you into feeling...other things), I was immediately inspired. The sex pollen trope makes me chuckle, and I thought if anyone would take advantage of it, it would be our cutie Xavier.

If you'd like to read my fic on A03, you can find Part 1 here. I always appreciate feedback!

Title: On The Job Work Hazards | Part 1

Pairing: Shen Xinghui | Xavier/You (fem! reader) Tags: Mildly dubious consent, blow jobs, semi-public sex, sex pollen

It wasn’t a hard battle, but the constant dodging was definitely wearing down my stamina as Xavier and I fought to break through the Wanderers’ shields. This one looked like a giant flower, with purple petals glimmering in the strange twilight of the protofield. If one could ignore the giant gaping maw of sharp teeth, and the violent spray of pollen puffing around its body, it would almost look beautiful.

Finally nearing the end, I briefly glanced down at my hunter watch interface to gauge its remaining health. In that split second, it charged at me, shaking its stems as the razored edge of the petals slashed forward. Xavier dashed in front of me, the slice of his blade light throwing the Wanderer into sharp relief as it fell backwards away from them.

“Xavier!” I cried out, watching as he stumbled, a haze of yellow pollen coating his face and chest. I reached out to grab him, cradling him in my arms. His blue eyes appeared dazed and dreamy - not unusual during his downtime, but he had never appeared anything less than laser focused during our missions together.

“Let’s do it now,” he gasped, choking as he inhaled more of the powder. I coughed as well, the yellow dust sticking to my lips. When I swallowed, there was a strangely sweet though gritty taste in my mouth.

Holstering my gun and removing my sword, we both raced forward, striking with expert precision. The Wanderer’s garbled cry faded as it soon disintegrated into a puff of black and blue matter. 

Xavier immediately slumped to the ground, groaning. I rushed over, falling to my knees beside him. 

“Xavier? What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” I patted his shoulders and arms as gently as I could, looking for broken bones or blood. I moved down his chest to his legs, squinting as I shifted closer. The navy uniform was good at disguising bloodstains. 

“Not. Hurt.” He panted, mouth open as he tilted his head back. He leaned back on his palms, his legs quivering under my touch. 

“I don’t believe you,” I answered bluntly, hands moving more swiftly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

This time his groan sounded more like a moan, his hips giving an aborted thrust when I stroked my hands once more down his thighs. I paused, looking down to see his arousal tenting the slim, tight fit of his pants. 

He watched me, his eyes hooded and hazy, desire turning his eyes into a dark, watery blue. I felt like I was being sucked into a whirlpool.

“Xavier?” I asked hesitantly. “Is…is it what I think it is?”

Watching his face flush, whether it was desire or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell, but I felt my own cheeks turning red. That sweet and salty flavor once again assaulted my senses.

“Was it the pollen?” I asked worriedly, and he shrugged. His head bobs as if he’s drunk. My hands have stopped their wandering, and he whines a little at the loss.

“Touch me,” he gasps, his breathing turning labored. “I need you.”

It felt like a punch to the gut, and desire seemed to melt through my bloodstream at his words. It wasn’t like we hadn’t danced around each other for the last few months working together. After grandma and Caleb…Xavier was just there, working the same long hours I had. It wasn’t quite so lonely in my almost devastating grief. 

My hands hovered unconsciously above his lap, but I didn’t press down.

“You’re not in any condition to give me consent, Xavier,” I said quietly. “Do you want me to take you to a hospital?”

He was starting to sweat, small beads at his hairline, and he roughly opened the neck clasp of his jacket. A glimmer of his skin peeked through the unbuttoned collar. I pressed my thighs together, trying not to notice my own uncomfortably warm reaction. While I hadn’t been exposed to nearly the same level of pollen that Xavier had, I could feel my own body starting to heat up. 

He caught the hint of my movement, licking his bottom lip in pleasure. He reached for me, pulling me closer and into his lap. I gasped softly, feeling the hot, hard length of him pressed against my backside. I unconsciously rocked back before abruptly stilling the movement, even as he tried to press me down even more firmly against him.

“Honey, please” he pleaded, a term of endearment I had never heard him use before today. Usually he called me by my name (or my full name when he was very irritated). 

“Xav, don’t,” I whispered, my hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders, a little desperate now. “I can’t do this while you’re not in your right mind.”

“No,” he said abruptly, his glassy eyes staring straight into mine. “I know what I want, I know what’ll make us both feel better.” He cupped his hand over my pussy, and I whimpered at the heated press of his palm even through my pants. 

He lowered his eyes to watch his hand rubbing slowly against me. I shuddered in pleasure, giving into a small rocking motion against him. With his hot, hard cock now pressing eagerly in the crease of my butt, and his hand expertly fondling me, I wouldn’t need much encouragement to come right then and there. 

“I’m…I’m already…” I was a little dazed by how quickly I could feel myself starting to lose myself in the sensation of his hand and warm body pressed under me. 

“You wanna come?” he asked roughly, his thumb now pressing with expert accuracy against the seam of my pants right over my clit. I shuddered and moaned, pressing my face into his neck.

“Oh, gods,” I whispered, trying not to grind too hard into him, but I could hardly stop the movement. I took a deep, panting breath. His natural scent and the sweet, powdery wisps of the pollen hit me hard. I wondered how damp my panties and trousers had become, and from his swallowed curse, I was guessing it was undeniable now. 

He held me even tighter against him, removing one arm around me to brace behind him. Using the leverage, he thrust up more firmly against me. Even now, I could feel the sweet ache building, and he wasn’t even inside of me. I hadn’t dry humped with a boyfriend since I was in highschool. I chuckled a little breathlessly at the thought, before groaning against the sensitive skin of his neck.

He muttered something unintelligible, I couldn’t hear it over the rushing of blood and the sizzle on my skin. I lifted up, shifting around as I lowered my hand between our bodies, rubbing a little roughly over his cock still trapped in his pants, and it was like a spark of electricity went off between us.

I could feel him, pulsing quickly under my hand, and I knew it wouldn’t take much to send him over the edge. His strokes, previously methodical, were now erratic against my pussy. It helped clear my head, just a little, enough so I could back off his legs a bit.

“No, don’t,” he said desperately, his hands once again reaching for me, but this time I moved determinedly away from him.

“Shh,” I whispered, glancing at him beneath lowered lashes. “Let me take care of you first. Just to take off the edge.” I took another look around, but we were in a deserted no-entry zone with no other nearby teams. I would need to call into headquarters soon, though - we shouldn’t be quiet on the coms too long.

He hissed quietly when my hands went to the myriad of belt buckles across his jacket and finally around his waist, loosening just enough I could gingerly tug the zipper down. He was so hard, he strained against the barrier, and I didn’t watch to catch any skin. He sucked in a breath, watching my hands at work. Xavier braced one arm back to support his weight, while he lifted his other hand to play with strands of my hair. 

“Lift up a little, sweetheart,” I said, tugging a little at his waistband, but I missed the dark flare in his eyes at the unconscious endearment. I wanted to pull down his briefs enough to free him without the band sliding back up. He shifted and without much effort, I watched as he pulled his cock free, his normally pale skin now flushed.

The soft skin over his belly, with sparse blonde hairs trailing down to his cock, was pink with his arousal. The tip flushed an angry red, quivering between us. A small bead of clear fluid seeped from the tip, and without any teasing, I took him into my hand.

I gave a slow, easy pump, and I thought he was going to tumble to the ground, the sound of his pleasure rumbling in his chest. I didn’t have much time to linger. I flicked my gaze upwards, my hand still steadily moving. He covered my hand with his own, hot and a little damp, his gaze dark and wild as he watched our fingers moving up and down together.

“It feels so good,” he murmured, his face lax and sex-drunk. He tipped his head back, eyes closing, lost in the feeling of our hands on his taut, warm flesh. 

“What can I do to make you feel better?” I ask, low and sweet, my hand getting damp and a little sticky from his precum. I leaned over, not really thinking, and opened my mouth, letting a little dribble of spit wet his cock.

He gasped, clenching his hand tightly around mine. “Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart,” I cautioned, seeing how the red - almost purple - head of his cock swelled. He caught his breath on another gasp, moving my hand a little faster, up and down, twisting a little over the tip before circling down back to the root. 

“What do you want?” I asked again. I knew he was getting close already. I lowered one of my hands between my legs, rubbing lightly over the seam of my pants. I could feel how damp I was even through the thick fabric.

“Yeah, touch yourself,” he begged, his eyes now locked on my hands. “Or let me do it.”

“Just focus on yourself,” I ordered. “Is it okay if I use my mouth?”

I didn’t pause my movements, guided by his hands, but there was a stutter as his hips thrust into our grip, another bead of precum leaking down over our fingertips. 

“Yes,” Xavier hissed, his tousled blonde hair falling forward over his eyes as he curled forward. “Please, please.”

I didn’t draw it out, crouching down over his lap, my knees digging uncomfortably into the rocky dirt. I lapped at the tip, the slightly bitter, salty taste spreading over my tongue as I gently swiped up the moisture. 

“Fuck, yes,” he whispered, finally falling back and laying flat on the ground underneath me. His hips gave an aborted buck before stilling as he tried to catch his breath. Powdery streaks of pollen dotted his uniform, the gritty texture dusting his cheeks. 

Without teasing him further, I swallowed down as our hands pumped down on his shaft, opening my mouth wide to take him in slowly. I tried to pool a little saliva in my mouth, letting it wet his dick as I inched down his length. I tucked my lips closer and twitched my tongue as I tried to widen around him, avoiding pressure with my teeth.

“Take it, yeah, just like that,” he murmured, his eyes locked on me. With his free hand, he cupped the back of my head, tugging me closer. I inhaled through my nose, trying to breathe normally while I swallowed a little around his cock, taking it in further until it bumped the back of my throat.

I swallowed again against the pool of saliva flooding my mouth, trying not to gag. He didn’t press me any further, letting me adjust, the warmth of my mouth sending little quivers of pleasure through him. I could feel his thighs tremble slightly under me.

After a moment to adjust, I slowly bobbed my head, my hand pumping up to follow my mouth as I sucked on him, dragging my tongue in a slow wave against the sensitive underside of the head. His sucked in breath told me he liked it, so I rubbed my tongue there again before swallowing him back down. 

He moaned, his fingers tightening their grip as he cradled my head in his hand. I made little bobs, suckling as I settled into a smooth rhythm. My fingers massaged his cock as my mouth wetted it with each languid slide up and down, my tongue fluttering over the head with each pass.

“Honey, please,” he whispered, voice strained. I liked the pet name, liked the tiny shiver of excitement that shot through me when I heard his voice wrecked with pleasure.

I sucked more strongly, beginning to pump a little faster and bobbing my head into a shorter, faster dip. While I didn’t bottom out quite as much, I could feel him beginning to pulse and flex in my hands.

His hips started to thrust in time to meet my mouth, pressing a little deeper when I sucked down, my nose brushing the soft, sparse blonde hairs at the base of his cock. I moaned, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure rippling through him. I could hear his fast, breathless pants, his hand fisting in my ponytail as he guided me a little more roughly.

I choked, my throat tightening and spasming around him, and he grunted. “Yeah, baby, let me, just like that.” 

His voice wasn’t soft and sweet anymore, a low growl humming underneath the usually breathless quality of his voice. I shuddered, feeling caught in his grip, trying to breath as he thrust a little more deeply, bumping the back of my throat. I whimpered and swallowed, releasing his cock with my hand so I could brace myself on his thighs. He took over, fisting his cock as he pressed forward between my lips.

I could feel saliva draining, my mouth gleaming, the corners of my mouth leaking down and pooling down on his flesh. The wet fap of his hand and my mouth made me blush furiously, embarrassed and aroused in equal measure. 

I was so turned on even as I remained untouched. My nails dug into the rough, thick fabric of his pants, scritching a little at the stretch and burn in my lips and jaw. I mewed just a little, trying to keep a steady rhythm.

“Don’t stop, I’m close,” he warned, his voice tight. I could feel his balls tighten when my chin brushed them, my lips dragging as I bobbed my head, throat working on each swallow. His precum spread over the roof of my mouth, coating my tongue, and the scent of his arousal blocked out everything else.

His thrusts became deeper, more powerful as he let go of some of that tight control he always had, his cock fucking my mouth as he threw his head back, his guttural moans like dark music in the deserted space. Finally, his entire body tightened, taut like a bowstring as he arched, his muffled “fuck” echoing as he spurted into my mouth.

He thrust a few times, erratic now, as a hot, warm gush of his come flooded my mouth, bitter and salty and thick on my tongue. I wanted desperately to pull away and spit it out, but he held my head tight in his hand, still pushing me down a little on his cock as he gave a few final jerks into my mouth.

“Yeah, honey, so good, you did so good,” he murmured, finally releasing my hair and letting me pull back, releasing his cock with a small pop . “Can you swallow for me?"

I grimaced but did as he asked, swallowing down his release before sighing, and settled back on my heels next to him.

“Are you okay?” I asked tentatively as his breathing finally calmed, and he slipped his pants back over his hips though left the belt unbuckled. He looked a little lazy, his eyes hazy with pleasure and a slight sheen of sweat dampening his neckline. He looked tousled and ruffled, and I wanted to jump on top of him and pin him down to the ground. 

When he looked at me and met my gaze, I wondered just how much I had revealed, because his lip curled in amusement as he watched the expressions flit across my face. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he answered slowly, his voice back the usual soft, breathy puff. But his heavy-lidded eyes were dark, passion-filled, and I wondered just what he was thinking.

I felt a little awkward, not sure what I should be doing now that the initial burst of desire had passed. I quickly swiped my hands over my face, blushing at the damp saliva and traces of his come still dotting my chin and cheeks, swallowing the taste of him in my mouth. He watched my hands, and I could see he was semi-hard through the tight fit of his slacks. 

I shifted backwards, getting ready to stand, but he grabbed me and lifted me onto his lap. I squealed a little as he settled me down, bending his knees a little to cuddle me closer, his arms looping around me.

Xavier leaned forward a little, pressing his face into the bend between my neck and shoulder, breathing deeply. He nosed my collar out of the way, a soft kiss lightly fluttering over the sensitive skin. 

“Xa…vier…” I whispered, trembling a little in his arms. I was a little confused, and a little unsure of what to do. He could swing hot or cold depending on the day and our mutual stress level and workload. We had never been this intimate before, always dancing on the edge of something more but neither willing to commit to it.

“Come home with me,” he murmured, lips peppering kisses up my neck, cheek, my chin, before sweeping over my lips in a gentle caress. “I want to make you feel good.”

I lifted a hand, cupping his cheek. “Is this from the pollen?” I asked warily. “To be honest, I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

He opened his mouth, getting ready to speak, when a sudden beep from my hunter watch interrupted us. I answered, pressing the interface button. “Hunter, we detected some anomalies in your area. Have you completed your mission?”

“Yes, we defeated the wanderer and closed the protofield. However, we were both sprayed with an unidentified powder, and will be initializing Decontamination Protocol 3.”

“Understood. Report back after decontamination protocol has been completed. HQ out.”

“Hunter out.”

I turned off the watch as Xavier stared back at me, cradling me in his arms. He didn’t clutch me tightly, but soothingly rubbed up and down my spine, which I could feel despite the thick leather vest I wore. It felt surprisingly natural. I wondered if the pollen was also affecting me, especially when I leaned forward in his arms and brushed my lips over his cheek. I drifted across his soft skin, nibbling at his earlobe. It flushed red beneath my lips and tongue, and his breath caught in a light gasp before he spoke. 

“Will you come home with me?” he asked, his voice quiet and subdued. He knew there was a chance I’d say no, and that he couldn’t argue with me. 

“I…” I hesitated, before sighing and saying, “yes. I want to. But it really might not be a good idea.”

He cupped my chin, silently requesting that I raise my eyes to his. I glanced up, a little shy, and unconsciously lifted my hands to cover my mouth.

He pulled the hand away, kissing me deeply. There was no way he couldn’t taste himself on my lips and tongue. He hungrily sipped at my mouth, slicking open my lips so that our tongues could playfully curl together. He rubbed the roof of my mouth before retracting his tongue and gently pulling away. 

He rested his forehead against mine, and I could feel his slowly hardening arousal pressed between us. I unconsciously rocked forward in his lap, enjoying the slow released huff of his breath. 

“You feel so good,” he said, voice a little rough. He swallowed hard. “I’ll do whatever you want. Even if you just want me to take you home. To your home,” he clarified. 

“I want you,” I answered softly. I felt a little embarrassed, but made myself meet his eyes. “I want a shower, and I want you…to…” I gulped. “I want you to fuck me. And then make love to me.”

He groaned, peppering little kisses on her face. “Yes,” he said, his voice quiet and a desperate tinge to the agreement. “Wrap your legs around me.”

I did as he asked, sliding my arms over his shoulders, and he boosted himself to his feet, holding me steady with one palm cupping my butt. I heard the clank of his belt rustling as he held me up against his belly.

“Hold on tight,” he murmured. And with a dazzling flash of light, we were swept away.

[green-eyedfirework]

It starts on a windswept evening in Bludhaven.  Dick is running across rooftops, breath caught in his throat and wind roaring past his ears, using every trick in the book to remain one step ahead of his pursuer.  The sound of sirens shriek in the distance, evidence of the police presence Dick managed to attract.  Somewhere amidst the cacophony is a crooked mob accountant being placed into police—and, hopefully, protective—custody.

He did just almost get assassinated, after all.

Dick doesn’t stutter, doesn’t falter, doesn’t fall, but it doesn’t matter.  He’s not fast enough.  On the next rooftop, a steel grip latches onto his shoulder and hauls him back—before Dick can raise his escrima for an attack he’s slammed against the brick of the rooftop access door hard enough to squeeze the breath from his lungs.

By the time he blinks the dark spots free, his escrima are gone, his wrists are above his head and squeezed in an inescapable grip, and there’s a gloved hand wrapping around his throat and pushing his head up to stare directly at the orange-and-black mask of his pursuer.

Dick grins.

“You’re too clever for your own good, little bird,” Deathstroke growls, and they’re inches apart, close enough that Deathstroke’s gun holster is digging against Dick’s stomach in a way that makes him want to shiver.

“Really?” Dick asks, testing how much space he has to move.  Deathstroke doesn’t budge an inch.  Dick’s mouth feels very dry.  “I think I’m just clever enough.”

“No,” Deathstroke disagrees.  His thumb rests on the underside of Dick’s jaw.  “Because then you would’ve realized that getting rid of my target meant that there would be no one left.  Except you.”

Something sinks inside of him, deeper than his stomach, a flash Dick almost doesn’t recognize.  But he’s not paying attention to it, because there is a mercenary pinning him to a wall in a grip he can’t squirm out of, and charm is just another tool in his arsenal.

“Oh?” Dick asks, voice sly.  “What’re you going to do about it?”

Deathstroke makes a low, inarticulate sound, and the hand around Dick’s throat leaves to instead pull the man’s mask off.  The mercenary looks incandescent, eye narrowed and roiling, expression twisted into a snarl, and Dick doesn’t have any time to react before a fist twists in his hair and holds him still for the mouth that plunders his.

Dick makes a shocked sound and Deathstroke swallows it, taking like Dick is just a limp ragdoll to be used as he pleases, and this time Dick definitely registers the warmth of arousal.  He can’t move—the fingers in his hair tighten to the point of pain to force him on his tiptoes, the hand holding his wrists feels like it could crush his bones, and Deathstroke has caged him so effectively that Dick can’t even try to dash himself against the bars.

The fire inside of him grows.

It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, it’s just.  It’s never felt like this before.

Dick makes the smallest of whimpers as Deathstroke shifts, the weight pressing against him something his body classifies as extremely hot, but the mercenary moves back and not forward, disengaging the kiss.

“Why did you stop?” Dick pants, peering up at Slade’s faint frown.  The fingers in his hair have loosened as well.

“You sounded hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Dick says, aware that he’s already half-hard and his cup is getting quite painful.  He pouts at Slade.  “Can we get back to the kissing?”

Slade makes an irritated noise and lets go, stepping back for good measure, and a part of Dick cries in disappointment.  “And give you more incentive to try this shit again?” the mercenary huffs.  “No.  Get lost, kid.  If I see you again, I’ll shoot you.”

“Mm-hmm.”  Dick darts forward and braces himself against Slade’s broad shoulders to get a quick peck.  Slade grumbles but doesn’t try to stop him.  “Sure you don’t want to come to my place for a consolatory drink?”

Slade looks unimpressed.  “Does that line actually work?”

Dick smiles up at him, still leaning against the mercenary’s solid bulk.  “I don’t know,” he says, low and languid, “you tell me.”

Slade’s eye darkens and Dick laughs as he’s pulled in for another dizzying kiss.

~#~

The encounter is as satisfying as ever, Slade is an attentive lover, and Dick curls up, sated and spent, in the mercenary’s warm arms when he’s done.

But.

It didn’t feel the same.

It didn’t feel like it did on the rooftop, exhilarating, electricity with a thread of danger, and Dick isn’t sure why.

He’s got a taste of it, and he wants more.

~#~

The next time is months later—this time, Slade’s playing security not assassin, and unfortunately for him, Dick may have accidentally kinda sorta exploded the collection of chemicals that he was supposed to be guarding.

“Sorry?” Dick tries, escrima already out as he faces Deathstroke across the catwalk.  The nearest perch is too far to reach and Deathstroke is advancing, a solid line of threat.

“Sorry?” Deathstroke echoes, and he’s unsheathed his sword.  “Sorry?”  Dick jumps back before it bisects him in two, and oops, looks like he’s really pissed Slade off this time.  “Is sorry going to put half a million dollars in my bank account?”

“Half a million dollars?” Dick says, momentarily distracted.  “I didn’t know they had that kind of cash.”  He ducks the swing of the sword and jabs up with the escrima and curses when all Slade does is shudder.  “You sure they could’ve paid you in the first place?”

Dick’s too close—too close for Deathstroke to swing that overcompensation he calls a sword, but also too close for Dick to dodge Slade’s retaliatory swipe.  It sends him crashing into the catwalk railing, stunned and breathless, and before he can get back up, his escrima are yanked from his grip and tossed to the floor below.

Slade’s in his personal space now, and fighting hand-to-hand against Deathstroke is never anything but a losing game.  Dick loses fast and hard, ending up bent over the railing, metal digging into his hipbones, hands twisted behind his back.

“You cost me a paycheck, kid,” Deathstroke growls.  Dick is shoved further over the railing, hanging in the void a solid thirty feet above the warehouse floor, and the only thing keeping him from falling is Deathstroke’s grip.

Dick swallows against the vertigo, faintly dizzy, heart beating fast and throat tight.  “I’ll make it up to you,” he manages, breathy from adrenaline and not by choice.

Deathstroke presses closer, until Dick can feel his weight layering on top of him, the precarious angle doing something to Dick’s head.  “Yes,” Slade says, low and dark and dangerous, “you will.”

Dick’s blood rushes south so fast he gets dizzy.  He’s suspended thirty feet off the ground, the warehouse is in chaos below them, Slade’s a heavy, present threat against his ass, and all Dick can think is no, not here, he wouldn’t.  He makes a sound closer to a whimper than he’d like.

The world spins inhumanely fast and when Dick can see again, vision blurry and breaths too fast, he’s standing on the catwalk.  Slade’s hands are on his shoulders.  “You okay?” the mercenary asks, voice gruffer and gentler than it had been a minute ago.

“‘M fine,” Dick says automatically.  “Just—got a little dizzy.”  No—that wasn’t what—Dick doesn’t know what did happen, only that he feels strangely off-kilter and Slade’s hovering isn’t helping.

Slade stays silent for a beat too long, clearly not buying it, his grip firm on Dick as he looks over the catwalk.

Dick is breathing hard—and abruptly aware that a certain part of him is aching.  He presses himself closer to Slade and breathes out, “You wanna take this somewhere more private?”

Slade keeps him at arm’s length and flicks his forehead.  “Fuck off, kid.  I need to go shake someone down for what money they will give me.  Get your ass out of here before you blow up something else.”

“Technically the explosion wasn’t my fault!” Dick calls after the retreating mercenary.  He feels like sulking and he doesn’t even know why.

~#~

He gets himself off when he gets home, once, twice, and a painful thrice.  He still feels unsatisfied.  Dick growls and does his best to block out the memory of Slade’s dark threat reverberating in his ears.

~#~

It can’t be the heights.  They’ve fucked on rooftops before, though admittedly never quite so close to the edge.  It can’t be the threat of being seen, there was once when they almost were caught and the situation had been more boner-killing than arousing.

It can’t be the roughness, Slade is plenty rough during sex and Dick has never felt like that.  That thrill that goes deep into his toes, like adrenaline pricking at every part of him, like Dick is freefalling without a net, half terrified and half excited and all gleeful—

Oh.

Oh.

Dick runs the situations back over in his head—Slade, forcing that kiss, and Dick pinned in place unable to fight it, and then Slade holding him down and insinuating what he wants while Dick hung helpless…

It’s the danger he wants.  The thrill and the fear.  Taking the world’s deadliest mercenary to bed isn’t enough, not when there’s a part of him that knows that if Slade truly wanted to ruin him, Dick wouldn’t be able to stop him.

The thought should not be making him hard.  It is.

Dick imagines the warehouse again.  Imagines Slade bending him over the railing, threatening to drop him, ripping the back of his suit open.  Imagines Slade shoving into him, hard and rough, with no thought or care for Dick’s pleasure.  Imagines his inability to move as Slade fucks him, cries ringing out, begging Slade to stop, please, while the mercenary just laughs—

Dick comes so hard his vision goes white.

He returns to himself, panting hard, staring up at the ceiling, hand wet and sticky.  Well.  That was his answer.

Fuck.

~#~

For a half-second Dick imagines trying to bring this up with Slade before violently shutting that thought down.  Nope.  He has no wish to see Slade’s reaction to that.

~#~

Even if labeling his desire has made him all the more desperate.

~#~ Even if Dick really really wants it.

[hrefna-the-raven]

The hunt

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x reader

Summary: you were sent to retrieve a precious item, but so was the most notorious bounty hunter in the Wasteland...

(this happens before Cooper ended up in that grave)

Words: 1143

Warnings: swearing

Notes: I had a female reader in mind while reading this but it turned out to be quite neutral so I guess it could be read a gender-neutral as well 😊

Chapter 1 - The plan

The blistering sun burned down on the dusty South Californian wasteland as he entered the ruins of a long deserted town. Tugging his cowboy hat lower to shield his eyes from the blinding sunshine, he instinctively reached for his revolver, drawing it from its holster as he sauntered towards you.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?", he asked with a grin, aiming his gun at you.

You had spotted him the moment he entered the ruins, but hiding was never your style. Your curiosity got the better of you, eager to finally meet the ghoulish bounty hunter whose reputation preceded him. Lifting your gaze from his gun to meet his eyes, you rose to your feet, a mischievous smirk painted across your lips.

"A beautiful face, a wicked sense of humour that provides for good company and", picked up the shotgun propped against the adjacent wall, "a loaded gun if you decide on becoming a problem."

He raised an eyebrow, eyeing the shotgun before returning your smirk.

"Now, ain't that a welcome you could take as a compliment and a warning. Well, you can rest easy, darlin’. I ain't lookin’ to turn this into a bloodbath."

"Neither do I. Would be a shame to rid this world of the legendary Cooper Howard.", you winked at him as you put your gun back.

The ghoul chuckled, holstered his revolver, and tipped his hat while taking a step closer to you.

"Now ain't you a charmer? And one who's done their homework as well."

"Oh when a pre-war celebrity as dashing as you becomes the most renowned bounty hunter of this unforgiving wasteland, one simply must take a closer look."

"Don't go makin' an ol' ghoul blush with your pretty words", he teased.

"As if one could see the blush on that red skin of yours", you chuckled, "so what brings the most feared bounty hunter to this lost place?"

You were intrigued by this man out of time. He lived in the pre-war era, a world that was so different from the one you were born into, wandering around for two decades while he was forced to watch the world crumble and slowly rebuild itself, for better or worse. It begged the question what all this would do to a human's sanity and yet he didn't strike you as mad, quite on the contrary, he possessed something that you'd describe as old world charm paired in a deadly combination with one of the sharpest minds. His expression took on a slightly more serious edge, his gaze fixing to the edge of the ruins.

"Well, I’ve been tracking a caravan, you see. They’re supposed to be passing through these parts sometime soon. I’m looking for a specific item they’re carrying and since this ain't exactly a common route, I'd bet my wrinkly ass you're here for the exact same reason."

"What a coincidence", you laughed, taking out your flask, unscrewing the lid, "that item wouldn't happen to be a crate full of well preserved bottles of the finest pre-war whiskey?"

You took a sip and tapped the space beside you on the wall, gesturing for him to join you before extending the flask towards him. He nodded appreciatively as he accepted it. You were clearly a hunter just like him but your kindness caught him off guard, it was a rare occurrence in the harsh reality of the Wasteland, especially among gunslingers. To him you seemed like a rare but quite intriguing specimen, beauty and charm in a passionate tango with deadly cunning, a single dionaea muscipula thriving in the desert and he was the fly irresistibly drawn to it. This was exactly why he usually kept his distance from others but around you his resolve seemed to crumble, enchanted by the brightness and beauty of your soul.

"Quite the coincidence indeed", the Ghoul murmured, "I wonder how you by this information? If I'd had to guess I'd say that prick Dom Pedro hired one too many for this job."

"Given my additional instructions to kill a certain ghoul should he happen to cross my path, I'd say you're spot on. So what shall we do about this?", you asked, turning towards him, away from the gun as you kept your hands on your lap.

You pokered high on this one, knowing damn well it was a huge risk to admit your instructions to eliminate him while having no intent to do so, it made you vulnerable in front of the Wasteland's most fearsome bounty hunter.

Cooper lit a cigarette, a faint glow casting an eerie glow on his ghoulish face as he puffed on it, studying you with a combination of intrigue and admiration. You had made no move to actually fulfill that part of your contract, another thing that intrigued him about you, another contrast to every other bloodthirsty fucker he met in fucked up ruined world and maybe this was exactly what he needed.

"Well now, ain't that a question for the ages. The way I see it, we got three choices here. First, we could settle this like every other idiot in the trade and see who's left standin'. Second, we could team up and increase our chances of snatchin' that shipment, shared profit of course. Or third...", he took a long drag on his cigarette before throwing it to the ground.

"We get the item, return to dear old Dom and fuck him up gloriously", you offered with a mischievous grin.

Cooper's smile widened as he nodded in agreement. He'd risk a lot but not shooting you straight away but there was this feeling, buried deep down within him that urged him to trust you, a faint notion of the same tingling he had felt so long ago, back when his skin was still smooth and life was less complicated.

"Now you're talkin' my language. Ain't nothin' more exciting than a well-executed betrayal. Besides ol' Dom deserves what's comin' for him. So what do you say? You in?", he asked, extending his hand towards you, his eyes locked on yours.

"Hell yeah", you chuckled and shook his hand, "pleasure doin' business with you, Howard."

The way his name fell from your lips stirred something within him. For over two decades, nobody had called him by his real name, everywhere he went he always simply the ghoul, the notorious mercenary who drifted from place to place, leaving chaos and bloodshed in his wake. However you were the very first person in a long time who seemed to see something different in him and the fearless yet teasing way you talked to him had this undeniable hint of respect, dancing around the borders of genuine affection. He sighed and got up as the sounds of chatters in the distance rang to his ears.

“Our target's approaching, let's get goin'.”

Chapter 2 - The bounty

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story 😊

[intricatechaosofyou]

The Right Wrong Turn

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Fandom: The Bad Batch; Star Wars

Summary: A hiccup in the mission ends up with you on a rooftop with the Batch’s sniper. Using the prompt “This did not go the way I expected.”

Warnings: 18+!!!!, blasters, shootouts, cursing, some sexual tension, a couple of references to lines in season 3 but NO SPOILERS (tell me if you find my references though ;) !!)

Author’s note: Happy Bad Batch season my loves!! Our boys are back and I couldn’t be happier (or sadder). I had the privilege of writing for @urfriendlyneighbornightfury so I hope you enjoy this babe! I had so much fun writing it. Italics indicate small flashbacks. Also, please keep in mind that this is post-Echo but pre-Order 66.

The Bad Batch has meant so much to me over the years and while it feels like the end has come far too quickly, I’m grateful for everything it’s done for me and the rest of the Star Wars community! Thank you to @ghostofskywalker / @cloneficgiftexchange for putting on this event!! I’m so grateful to participate in this huge event!!

Sending everyone a Wrecker-sized hug and a happy season 3!! <3

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

You panted as you made a sharp turn down an alleyway, trying to lose your pursuers.

It was supposed to be a simple mission: sneak in while Hunter and Wrecker distracted the guards, download a few files, then Echo and Tech would pick you all up in the Marauder.

What you hadn’t planned for, however, was the heavy encryption on the files you needed.

———————

“Tech, I thought you said I just had to plug this data stick in and the files would download!” You whispered into your comm as a red screen appeared on the datapad.

“Theoretically, that should be all you have to do. However, I do suppose the encryptions on the files could prevent the transfer,” Tech replied, his static voice from the comm making you angrier by the second.

Your failed attempts at transferring the files had set off the alarm. You needed to get out of there, but you needed those files first.

“Keep the data stick in,” Tech requested. “I can undo the encryption from my end and transfer the files manually.”

A blaster shot fired right past your shoulder and you immediately ducked behind the large desk in the office. Sneaking a look, you counted three guards with their blasters pulled on you.

Kriff. You had to get out of there.

“Cross,” you hissed into your comm as you pulled your blaster from its holster on your hip.

You didn’t even have to finish your sentence before you heard the sniper’s voice crackle through the comm.

“I’ve got eyes on them. I take middle.”

You couldn’t see him on the next rooftop over, but you knew he was already lining up his shot through the large glass window behind the desk you were hiding behind.

“No fair. I wanted middle this time,” you answered, a smirk forming on your face.

Crosshair tutted. “Too bad, sweets.”

You rolled your eyes as you shifted your blaster in your hands, getting ready to fire.

As soon as Crosshair’s shot came through, shattering the window behind you and killing the assailant in the middle, you stood and shot the two remaining.

“Tech, how’re we looking?” You questioned.

“Files are transferred. Make your way back to the Marauder.”

You grabbed the data stick and booked it to the stairs just as another group of guards bursted into the office.

———————

You thought that they’d give up once you exited the building, but they were still managing to follow you through the busy streets of Bracca.

It was getting harder to lose the guards behind you as you dashed through the streets. One wrong turn and you knew you were in deep trouble.

As you turned down the next alleyway in hopes that you’d finally outpace the guards you heard someone hiss your name.

Looking up you found Crosshair, leaning over the roof of a nearby building, hand outstretched to you.

“Hurry up before those di’kuts catch up.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand, allowing him to hoist you up onto the roof.

“Could’ve used some help earlier, Cro—“

The clone’s hand covered your mouth before you could finish your snarky comment, pushing you to lay down the cold metal roof as he followed suit, laying halfway on top of you as the guards flooded into the alley in pursuit of you.

He lowered his head, sharp eyes watching the guards, ensuring that they didn’t spot the two of you.

But you? You watched him.

He had shed his bucket before helping you onto the roof, granting you full freedom to ogle at his face. You watched the way his eyes darted across the length of the alley, the way jaw clenched every time a guard spoke, the way his lips were parted as he took slow, steady breaths.

Suddenly, the chill of the night was replaced with a heavy heat and you were overcome with the need to move out from under him.

The hard plastoid of his armor dug into your skin as you attempted to shift out from underneath him. But your movement only caused him to hold you down harder, his free hand pressing your hips down to keep you from squirming.

You stifled a frustrated groan, going to shift again but the way he turned to look at you made you freeze. He stared you down, almost daring you to move again.

Unfortunately for him, you loved getting under his skin.

You tried to shift out from under him again, accepting the unspoken challenge from the sniper.

He retaliated, pressing his entire forearm against your hips to prevent your movements.

With a huff, you realized this might be one battle you wouldn’t win. You resigned yourself to watching him again as he took a glance back at the alley.

When his eyes found yours again, he finally took his hand away from your mouth but his arm across your hips stayed in place.

“You nearly got us caught,” he hissed.

“Yeah, well, this didn’t go the way I expected,” you replied, a sarcastic smile on your face as you once again attempted to get out from under him.

The way he put more weight on your hips told you he wasn’t letting you go that easy. “What did you expect? That I’d just let you stand around up here and let the guards catch both of us?” He questioned.

“Stow it,” you demanded, trying to ignore the way your face felt hot. “We need to get back to the Marauder.”

“Not until you answer my question, sweets.”

You huffed, letting your head fall back. Maker, this man was stubborn. “Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.”

“Hate what, sweets?”

“You calling me that!”

“Why, sweets?”

You bit back a snarl at the way he emphasized the name just for the sake of driving you crazy. “I said stow it.”

“What’re you gonna do about it? I seem to have the upper hand, sweets.”

You hated the way his lips curled up into his signature smirk as the nickname left his mouth. Your hands acted on their own accord as they grabbed his face and crashed his lips onto yours. His response was automatic, hands coming to cradle your face to bring you closer to himself.

The kiss was a mess of tongue and teeth, both of you still in an attempt to win an imaginary battle against the other. He pushed you and you pushed back harder against him. Around and around you two went in desperate attempts to put the other in their place…until Crosshair’s comm sounded.

The sniper let out a discontented huff as your mouth left his as you pulled the comm from the belt at his hips.

“We’re still on a mission, sweets,” you reminded him, reveling in the way his jaw ticked as you used the nickname against him before turning back to the comm and assuring Hunter that you and Crosshair were en route to the Marauder. “We gotta get going.”

Despite his groaning, he still shifted off of you and offered you a hand to help you stand up.

You brushed yourself off and took in Crosshair’s usual frown. “Cheer up, Cross.”

“I don’t like being interrupted,” he replied, pulling a toothpick from the pocket on his belt.

Shrugging, you grabbed the toothpick from his hand and put it in your own mouth. “Don’t worry. We’ll finish this later.”

The corners of Crosshair’s mouth ticked up at your insinuation. “I like that plan, sweets.”

Although you rolled your eyes, you couldn’t help the fond smile from growing on your face. Instead of granting him a response you simply turned and started the trek back to the Marauder with Crosshair right beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back. Yeah, you’d definitely be finishing this later.

[221bshrlocked]

interesting indeed

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader

Words: 8901

Warnings: Tech wearing jeans. Female Masturbation. Tech watching reader masturbate so throw in a dash of accidental voyeurism. Consensual foreplay. Slightly rough manhandling, just like a little bit. Thigh riding because jeans! Dirty talk...or how I think Tech would sound if he were to talk you through riding him. Fingering. Squirting.

A/N: Not going to lie, this is a surprise even to me. Never thought I'd write for this cute nerd but I can't get over the fact that he's wearing jeans now so here you go. Also, this is totally in reference to this post because I wholeheartedly believe this is going to be a thing...if it isn't already. If Tech's character/vernacular doesn't seem right, do let me know how I can improve. Please and thank you.

No one was commenting on it, not that they should of course. They were all adapting to sudden and quite terrifying changes, and this was not on the list of important things that should be talked about. If none of them discussed the change of color in their armors, which was probably one of the last things still connecting them to Crosshair, this was definitely not going to make it to the evening chat. But it was still strange though, and you weren’t sure how to handle it. 

It occurred to you after several rotations of simply being incapable of thinking of anything else why you were so hung up on it. On him. 

He looked good, really good. You always found him attractive, more so than the others if you were being honest. But now that he was out of the confines of his armor and those rather tight blacks beneath the heavy protective gear, you couldn’t help yourself, groaning and swearing beneath your breath any time he so much as walked past you to fix something or discuss the mission details, again, with Hunter. His form was still hidden from your eyes, with parts of the armor still covering his torso from your hungry gaze, but you could see him clearly now, at least his lower half.

Sith hells, his thighs were more muscular than you thought, and each time he stretched to fix a part of the ship out of reach, or even shifted in his seat, the holsters wrapped tightly around his thighs would tug against the fabric of his jeans and show you just how meaty and thick they are. 

Fuck, the jeans. That’s how you got into this current predicament. The day Tech started wearing those karking jeans was the day you cursed and thanked the maker for allowing such an invention to take place. He was tall, and you were always aware of how much shorter you were than him whenever he stood beside you or leaned down to show you whatever it was he wanted you to see on his holopad. You were so used to the plastoid armor that when you saw him walking out of his private room—eyes staring into the datapad, and hands clicking away as if he wasn’t wearing the most revealing fucking pair of pants to exist—you choked on your breath and had to walk away to avoid suspicion. Gods above, he somehow looked taller in those jeans than in his armor, and the knowledge that his slender form would now be available to your eyes all day every day made you sigh in irritation. It was already so difficult to attend to the tasks him and Echo handed you, and this just made it worse. So much worse. Then there was the matter of Echo and Hunter already teasing you about your little crush that everyone was aware of except him. It was enough as is, so you didn’t need to give them more ammo to use against you whenever he was around, even though he was oblivious to your longing gazes, and their irritating remarks. 

Almost on queue, the man walks past you and leans over the bar to grab a drink for himself. Your eyes roam down his tall, slender yet muscular form, stopping to appreciate how perfectly the jeans fit around his ass. You shake your head at the sight of him. It was so unfair for him to look this delicious in such a simple article of clothing. Did his butt always look so round and plump? Or were the jeans giving him all those “assets”? So far gone in your inappropriate thoughts, you don’t notice Hunter pulling up a seat next to you and leaning a little forward to follow your line of sight until he speaks. 

“Stare any harder and he might actually notice you checking him out this time.”

The rough sound of Hunter’s voice snaps you out of your haze and you flinch rather dramatically when the comment comes off louder than you’d like it to be, spilling half of your drink all over yourself and groaning in irritation when Hunter laughs at your obvious distress. You stand up and swipe across your shirt, only to run right into Tech as soon as you turn around to walk away from Hunter, in turn spilling both of your drinks over Tech’s armor and jeans. He hisses when the cold liquid runs down his clothes and you apologize profusely, grabbing both bottles and setting them down before looking for anything to hand him so he can dry himself.

You see Hunter from your periphery reaching out with something for you to take, and you narrow your eyes at him in warning as you snatch the towel from his hand and immediately pat down the sticky liquid on Tech’s armor. 

“Did you know it takes approximately 12 hours for the smell of spotchka to come off of plastoid? Unfortunately, the same cannot be said regarding the stains, which I believe will take much longer to be removed.” You sigh in relief as soon as Tech does the usual and goes on with whatever knowledge he knows about the predicament at hand. When you glance at Hunter though, you find him smirking at you, and you hate the eyebrow he raises at you as he sips from his drink and watches your flustered reaction.  

“I’m so sorry Tech, I was so distracted and- kriff,” you wipe at the chest armor to the best of your abilities, incapable of looking up at Tech out of fear of his reaction, or worse, your own. He swipes at the datapad several times, and you find it cute that he cares more about the technology on him than his attire, which he clearly stated would take a long time to thoroughly clean. 

“It is in your best interest to constantly be aware of your surroundings, Y/N, regardless of distractions. Having said that, what could possibly be distracting here? Wrecker and Omega are quiet, which is rather alarming now that I think of it. Echo is reading, and Hunter is,” he stops checking the holopad and looks up at Hunter, roaming his eyes across his brother’s presence before returning his attention to the task at hand again, “well, he’s doing nothing.”

“I- I was just thinking that…umm,” you trip over your words, unsure of how you were supposed to respond. When he doesn’t bother to ask you to finish your response, you shake your head and continue wiping his armor. 

“Funny you should mention your armor, Tech. She was just thinking about it.” Hunter says from behind you, making you turn around quickly and pout at him. He chuckles at your response, again, shrugging his shoulders at you when you mouth a few swears at him as you fiddle with the towel in your hand. 

“Whyever would you be thinking of my armor?” The question catches you off guard, and you look at Tech with wide eyes, parting your lips to try and offer him some reply that would get him to ignore you again. Before you do, however, Hunter beats you to it and provides another, equally-irritating, suggestion towards Tech, one that instantly sends your heart rate through the roof and makes you wish you were in the comfort of your bed. 

“Perhaps the lack thereof?” This time, you don’t bother looking at Hunter, knowing that he would only make things worse if you begged him to shut up again.

“We are not currently on a mission; naturally, there is no purpose for the remainder of the armor. However, now that we are no longer required to wear it all, I find myself more aware of the constraints it offered than before.” Tech gestures with his hand as he looks down at his form and presumably thinks of the several parts he was not currently wearing. You, on the other hand, can’t focus on anything, choosing to ignore everything he said except the word ‘constraints.’ 

“C-constraints?” You didn’t need to think of any type of constraints with relation to Tech, you really didn’t. But your mind decides to go off the rails, as it normally does whenever Tech is involved, and think of every naughty action the man can do to your body if he were to put you in constraints. Kriff, you would truly let him do anything he wanted with you, and you wouldn’t complain for a moment. You’d thank him for his attention, ask him what else he wanted to inflict upon you, and then beg him to put you out of your misery and do it already. 

Tech’s response doesn’t come immediately, and when you finally make eye contact with him, you find him staring intently at you, eyes shifting from your tense jaws to your tight neck to the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing increases by the second. You turn away from him, fidgeting with the towel for another moment before getting on your knees to get the lower part of the armor on his chest. As you continue to clean the plastoid on his body, you can’t help but let your gaze roam a little lower, but you get back to focusing on the armor again, unsure of what you would do if Tech were to notice you openly ogling his crotch. 

“Yes, there are several aspects of the Republic armor that hindered our movement. For example, it was difficult to remain seated for long periods of time. The plastoid dug into all the muscles of the body, thus making us more fatigued. Shoulder rotation was hindered at times due to the solidity of the back pieces, which, while advantageous during battle, were not useful on planets with more bodies of water, which required us to swim. Undoubtedly, the most unfortunate part of the armor was the codpiece. It made it near impossible for-” you were doing your best to focus on his ramblings, knowing that it would distract you from letting your mind run away with thoughts of touching him under more intimate circumstances. But as soon as he mentioned the codpiece, your brain went haywire and you started rubbing the damp spots on his inner thighs. Perhaps a part of you was aware of what you were doing, but you weren’t in-tune with the little bit of coherence still left in your neurons, already conjuring up the filthiest images involving yourself and the man above you. 

“Kriff,” he swears beneath his breath, instantly looking away from Hunter to your kneeling body as you begin to touch closer to where the blood was rushing down his form. 

“That will not be necessary, Y/N. I can- ahh,” he tries to stop you, he really does, but before he can reach out to your shoulders and grab your attention, your hand ascends up his thighs and makes a rather harsh pass across his crotch and the very visible tent in his jeans. Time stands still as soon as the sound of Tech’s moan hits your ears, and you widen your eyes in horror at what you’ve just done to him, in public, in front of his brother. You look up and notice a blush forming on his cheeks and neck, and you bite into your cheek when you see his hands shaking slightly while his chest expands rapidly with each short, harsh breath he takes. 

“Oh maker, I- I didn’t mean to…I was paying attention and- I have to go.” You throw the towel on the table and run out of Cid’s parlor, ignoring Tech as he calls your name along with what you were sure were Mando’a curses.

“Mesh’la wait!” Tech takes two steps towards you before he notices that you won’t listen to him, and he throws his head down in defeat as he makes his way back to Hunter, who is now joined by Echo. 

“Well that’s new,” Hunter comments, glancing at Echo with a grin on his face as he watches his brother fix his goggles and take the towel you were just holding. 

“It was a slip of the tongue, I-” He knows neither of his brothers will buy the excuse, he doesn’t if he were being honest with himself, but he wants to avoid whatever conversation he was sure was about to commence. 

“Hmm, sure it was. Bet you want to slip that tongue somewhere else.” Echo says, and if it weren’t for the fact that Tech was now thinking of every single twitch of your body language as you cleaned him up, he would have maybe decked him and walked away. But he was in no mood to fight, let alone argue with his brother. 

“Grow up, Echo. This is hardly the time to be crass.” He looks up at the two men in front of him, only to drop the irritated expression when he notices them staring at him with disbelief and annoyance in their eyes. 

“What?” He asks, grabbing the datapad from the table and shoving it back into his belt. 

“Go after her you di’kut.” Echo growls, shaking his head as soon as Tech frowns at him and begins to tell him why he shouldn’t. 

“She is clearly in distress, and I highly doubt the awkwardness of this moment will-”

“For kriff’s sake, Tech. Go. To. Her.” Hunter interrupts him before he can say anything else, and when Tech realizes that neither of them were planning on letting this go any time soon, he looks to the floor and shakes his head, grudgingly listening to them and heading out of the parlor. 

“Fine.” 

He almost reaches for the holopad as he walks to your place, but he stops himself before he turns it on, knowing that there was nothing on there that might help the situation now. He thinks back to what happened moments ago, recalling your reaction to the proximity between the both of you as well as Hunter’s responses. There was something missing in the whole ordeal, and if Tech didn’t know better, he’d think there was a meaning behind everything that was said. It’s moments like these that Tech understood he would have to read in between the lines, a task that he didn’t prefer attempting and was frankly not interested in. If you were dealing with a personal problem, one that you would rather share with Hunter than him, then Tech would respect that. Granted it made him uncomfortable, or perhaps annoyed was the right word here, but he wouldn’t dream of forcing you to tell him. 

But maker if he wasn’t still interested in your behavior. There was a clear shift in your body language when he walked over to your table, little gestures that changed rapidly when you began cleaning his armor and as soon as Hunter shared his thoughts on your reasons behind being distracted. 

Tech halts in his steps when he looks up and sees that he’s reached your place. He stares at the open windows and feels relieved when he sees that the lights are still on. Heading up the stairwell, he thinks over what he should say when you open the door. Should he mention the reason behind you leaving, or should he apologize for becoming erect when you were only trying to help? Should he tell you that he wasn’t bothered by your touch or should he explain why he was aroused to begin with? The last thought makes him stop in his tracks, and he meditates for a long while on why such an option would come forward in his mind to begin with. 

“Hmm, that is rather interesting.” Tech comments out loud before he continues his ascent to your place, and once he reaches the door to your apartment, he knocks on it and waits for you to answer it. When you don’t make an appearance, he knocks once again, his nerves beginning to get to him. As the silence of the night fills the stairwell, Tech decides to push in the combination to your door, only to find that you had left it unlocked upon your arrival. 

That is strange, you were always so careful on the Marauder. Surely you would be as careful when it came to your own home?

He walks in slowly and takes a quick look across the empty space, finding you nowhere in sight. Before he takes another step further, he hears the faint sound of your voice emitting from your room, whimpering and groaning as you cursed beneath your breath. 

“Oh fuck…fuck, ahhh-”

Tech is on high alert instantly, and he takes his blaster out without thinking twice, slowly approaching your room as quietly as he can so he doesn’t alert the intruder clearly present in your bedroom.

“Please…just, I can’t. I- need to…”

He hears you again, but this time, you’re almost sobbing quietly, your voice muffled by an object being held to your mouth. Perhaps the intruder was asking about him and his brothers, or maybe, just maybe, you had managed to get yourself caught up with the wrong people. His heart is beating loudly against his chest, and he fears whatever might happen if he were to barge in there right this moment to try and save you. 

“F-fuck…ah fuck, that’s- hmmm, please…so close.”

Taking the last few steps to your room, Tech inhales deeply, preparing himself for whatever may happen before looking through the slightly ajar door.

And then he stops breathing altogether. 

There was no intruder in your room, there wasn’t anyone as a matter of fact. You were the only one in there, and from the looks of it, you were not struggling at all, but rather, enjoying the privacy of the moment. 

Well, the privacy that was taken away from you now that he stood still at your doorway, incapable of turning away from the beautiful sight of your naked body as you touched yourself, face contorting between pain and pleasure the harder and faster you shoved your small fingers into your-

“Please, Tech…I need you. I need you so badly, just- oh maker, keep going…right there.”

If Tech wasn’t absolutely sure that your eyes were closed, that you were unaware of his presence, he would have thought you were asking him to join you. But you were both too far gone in ecstasy, with your eyes shut tightly the quicker your ministrations became, and completely ignorant to the standing figure at your doorway, with your face shoved into your pillows as you rolled your hips into your hand. 

“That is interesting indeed.”

Never in his life did he ever speak without intending to. Granted, he often spoke when he didn’t have to, definitely when his opinion wasn’t sought out, but he never accidentally blurted out anything. So, when you scream at the top of your lungs and drag the covers across your skin, Tech flinches and nearly slams his head against the bedroom door. 

He quickly pushes the blaster back into the holster on his belt before fixing his goggles, and for the first time since he can remember, he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Tech what- what the fuck are you doing here?” He glances at you briefly and as much as he hates to admit it, the sight of your heaving chest and your damp skin shoots all blood flow in his system downwards. He was sporting a semi when you were wiping him, but after the show he just witnessed, he doesn’t bother looking down to know if his hardness is visible. He knows it is, and when he notices you looking down, he groans to himself and immediately places his hands in front of him to hide his erection.  

“I- Hunter and Echo told me to find you.” An apology would be better, that Tech is sure of, but his mind is suddenly filled with the image of your desperate limbs and shaking muscles as you searched for release. And maker in heaven, he could not get the sight of you out of his mind’s eye, at all. 

“What?” 

“When you left, they suggested I come and find you. Technically, they swore at me and told me to speak with you. So…here I am.” Tech clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as you continue to glare at him. 

“Tech, I cannot stress this enough but what the actual fuck?” Your voice is growing in pitch, albeit a little hoarse from how harsh you were breathing moments ago, and Tech forgoes the apology and decides to ask you the obvious question. 

“Is there something wrong with your hearing, Y/N? I will happily look into that for you, or perhaps-”

Well, what he thought was the obvious question in this case. 

“Nothing is wrong with my hearing, genius. My question isn’t so you can repeat to me how your brothers fucking forced you into coming here when you didn’t want to. I’m asking about why you were standing there without announcing yourself…watching me while I- umm,” the rest of the sentence trails off, and Tech tilts his head to the side when your sudden outburst turns into nothing but an embarrassed shift of your fiery gaze away from him and towards your fingers.

You’re angry, that’s obvious enough for Tech to see. But he doesn’t understand what exactly is the source of your anger. Is it your misunderstanding that he didn’t want to seek you out, or that he was probably asking about something irrelevant to the situation at hand, or maybe it was because he was watching you without your consent? He sets all of that aside when you trip over your words and refuse to say what you were clearly doing. 

“Matsturbate?” He finishes the rest of your thought for you, and frowns instantly when you yell at him again. 

“YES!!”

“It is nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N. It is completely natural to seek release when under an extraneous amount of stress. As a matter of fact, the numerous endorphins secreted within the brain and the central nervous system upon climax tend to-”

“Oh my sweet god Tech, please…please, just stop.” The exhausted tone of your voice snaps him out of his haze, and he quiets down when he looks up and sees you rubbing your forehead a little harder than you should. Kriff, he really doesn’t know what to say right now, and as the silence grows between the two of you, it occurs to Tech that maybe he should cross the bridge of awkwardness himself and coax you out of our shell. 

“I am confused. Not a moment ago, you were asking me to “keep going,” but now, you are requesting I stop?” It must be the right thing to say because that seems to get your attention rather quickly. Your eyes shoot to him not a second later, and Tech watches as understanding dawns on you, followed closely by shame, guilt, and embarrassment. Hmm, maybe this was the wrong thing to say then. 

“You…how long have you been standing there?”

“Not too long, but I did hear my name once, hence the outburst that, I presume, led to your discomfort.” You say nothing, and Tech refuses to break eye contact with you, wanting to see how your body and facial expressions react to his words. 

“I thought you had seen me, but your eyes were shut, making you completely oblivious to my presence. I- I was wondering, outloud as you know, why you could possibly call for me while you were masturbating but I-” His inner monologue is on his lips, the only way Tech knows how to process information that is shocking to him. He doesn’t mean to make you wince or shudder the longer he goes on, but as he stares at you now, with your naked thighs clenching tightly, and your lower lip pouting rather attractively to him, it finally hits him. 

There was only one meaning behind your actions. And the shift in your body language earlier in the parlor. And all those times you thought he didn’t hear you groan as he walked by you or whispered something to yourself when he leaned down to fix something. 

Oh.

“You were fantasizing about me.” It’s not a question, more of a comment really, a very crude, straightforward, conclusive comment. The thought of being the one to bring out such a need from you makes him twitch in his pants, and he tilts his head to the side again as he roams his eyes across whatever skin available for him to see, watching as you throw your head down and hide behind your palms. 

“Ugh, fuck me.” You breathe out into the night air, shaking your head at the absurdity of this whole ordeal. 

“I cannot see how that could help the predicament we find ourselves in. But…if you believe that is the solution to our problem, I will oblige, rather enthusiastically as a matter of fact.” The response comes instantly, making you look up with wide eyes at the man currently standing at your door.

“W-what?” You can’t help but ask, wanting to be sure that you heard him right, that this wasn’t another one of your fantasies where he breaks through the door and fucks you into kingdom come. 

“Honestly, Y/N, there must be something wrong with your hearing if-”

“Tech.” You say his name once, urging him to stop for a moment and try to read your reaction to his words. 

“I am not too sure what you are asking about at the moment. Are you asking me to repeat myself or explain my words?” He takes two steps closer to you, hands still covering his crotch from your sight out of fear of you misunderstanding him, or worse, making you feel even more uncomfortable. 

“Explain please.” You request rather shyly, and if Tech wasn’t preoccupied with finding the right words to respond to you, he would comment on how beautiful and erotic the sound of your voice was to him right now.

“You just asked me to “fuck you,” rather vulgar if I may say so myself-”

“It was a form of expression…I- I didn’t ask you to…you know.”

“Semantics…regardless of how you intended those words, I said that I am unsure as to how that could help. However, seeing as you have yet to reach climax, the fault of which is mine, and I am more-than-willing to offer you my aid, I would happily follow your advice and do whatever it is you think would resolve our predicament.” He says matter-of-factly, and with each word he throws at you, you feel yourself growing wetter. His response is too technical to your liking, but something about the way he phrases those words, and how adamant he is on not minding one bit sleeping with you, makes you suddenly experience a similar sense of desperation to what you always feel whenever he’s around. 

“Assuming you forgive my untimely and inappropriate intrusion… and consent, of course.” He adds as he takes another step and looks around the room briefly before returning his focus on you again. 

“And you do?”

“Of course I do.” He furrows his eyebrows at you, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he is close to calling you an idiot for asking such a question. It’s only a second later that you begin to understand why he’s behaving this way, or rather, answering you with such a direct response. 

“Why?” You ask, wanting to make sure that he was saying what you think he was. 

“Why do I consent to having sexual intercourse with you?” Tech asks, and you hate his need to repeat whatever question is asked of him, but you quickly remember that this situation was probably new to him, and his mind was returning to what is comfortable for him so he can process it thoroughly, and without misunderstanding. 

“Yes.”

“Is it not obvious?”

“N-no. It isn’t.” You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was your return to meet him half-way. 

“I am attracted to you, have been since we first met. You are exceptional in what you do, quite intelligent for a regular human…and y-you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon.” His confession steals your breath away, and you stare at him in disbelief when your brain finally catches up with what he just revealed to you. 

You want to say so much to him. You want to thank the maker for his blunt demeanor because he finally put you out of your misery. You want to jump and scream at finally knowing what he thinks of you. You want to ask him why he’s never made a move on you since he’s shared your level of attraction for perhaps as long as you have. But none of those wants make it to the surface, and you swallow the lump in your throat when you finally decide how you want to break the silence washing over you. 

“Fuck me.”

“Is- is that a form of expression, or are you asking me to have sexual intercourse with you?” You’ve never heard him trip over his words this many times in one conversation before, let alone sound so reluctant when asking such a simple question. The thought of being the one who makes him nervous enough to stumble over such a simple question lights a deep heat in the pit of your stomach, and you don’t think over what you’re about to do, knowing you might backtrack quickly if the reality of your words and body language sets in. 

Taking in a deep breath, you drop the covers from around your body and kick them aside, revealing your nudity to Tech in hopes of driving your message across without yet another misunderstanding. 

“I am asking you to fuck me, Tech. Fuck me until I lose my voice. Fuck me until the only thing I can remember is your name. Fuck me until I can’t feel my legs from how hard you slam your thick cock into me. Fuck me until I feel you for days. Fuck me…until you cum so deep inside me that I feel you leaking out of me…and then fuck me some more.” You slowly get on your knees as you speak, lightly trailing your fingers across your breasts and down to your aching cunt, unable to hold back from smiling when you notice the blush adorning Tech’s cheeks move down to his neck. His hands are shaking lightly, and you crawl to the end of the bed without breaking his gaze, wanting him to see the depth of your hunger for him. 

“I see,” you thought he’d say more, but it makes sense that he isn’t inclined to be more talkative now. You wait for him to take the lead, not wanting him to feel the need to please you at his own expense. When he takes those last few steps towards you, you can’t help but lean forward into his space, wanting to feel overwhelmed by the heat of his body and the natural musk of his scent. Tech finally removes his hands from his crotch, but you don’t look down immediately, afraid he’d be embarrassed by your shamelessness. 

He stretches out his hand but stops midair, and you blink at him expectantly, unsure of why he wasn’t already touching you. 

“Mesh’la, may I touch you?” His voice is softer, and you make a mental note to ask him later what that word meant. You’ve heard it from him when you were making your escape, thinking that he was swearing at you, but as he whispers it to you now, with his eyes silently begging you to allow him to be near you, and his hands fidgeting and itching to extend a little further to trail across your damp skin, you realize it might mean something completely different. 

“Yes, please.”

As soon as he registers your response, he reaches out and cups your neck with one hand, slowly slithering his other arm around your waist and tugging you into his chest until there was no space in between the two of you. The cold of his plastoid makes you shiver, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, sighing his name with a whisper as he extends his fingers and rubs your lower lip with his thumb. 

“You are a marvelous creature,” Tech coos into your ear, teasing you with soft kisses across your heated cheeks, until he reaches the corner of your mouth, “and it would be my absolute pleasure to, as you put it so eloquently, fuck you until you lose your voice.” You nearly throw your head back but Tech grasps your chin and tilts it back to his mouth, looking one last time at the ecstasy etched on your features before sealing the night with the most breathtaking kiss. 

You’ve thought of this moment for so long, wondered how his lips would taste and feel against your own. You imagined him to be reluctant, unsure of what to do due to his lack of experience. But as Tech leans over you, once again reminding you of how much taller he is, you can’t really picture the kiss being different. He’s dominant, more so than you thought he’d be, swiping his fingers against the corner of your mouth until you part your lips for him. But he’s also gentle, a bit playful even, as he slips his tongue inside your mouth and gives you a taste of what you’ve begged him for. 

You melt against him, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss and takes control of your body. It must please him, the way you cling onto him for dear life as he continues to steal your breath away, because he groans deeply into the kiss and dips his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck. You can’t help the pornographic moan that fills the space between you as soon as you feel him tug harshly on your hair, and you shut your eyes to enjoy the moment as Tech hums with satisfaction, immediately attacking your neck in hopes of ensuring he has your undivided attention. 

“Ah Tech-” You moan as he spreads his hand across your lower back before digging his fingers into your skin. 

“Tell me mesh’la, what were you thinking of when I rudely interrupted you?” You can hear the smirk in his question, and although you wish you can find the smugness irritating, you shiver at the tone of his voice and the touch of his hands as they grow more desperate and rough by the minute. 

“I w-was thinking of…of you.” You barely manage to say, vaguely feeling one of your arms release from underneath his hold. You stretch your arm down and grasp onto the edge of his jeans, gasping lightly as he rolls his hips against your inner thighs and gives you a taste of what you’ve been craving ever since you laid eyes on him. 

“I am well aware of that, sweet one. I want you to tell me the images your filthy mind conjured up as you touched yourself…with details if you please.” He pronounces the last word with a nip to your shoulder, making you shudder in response and try to grab onto his shoulder again so you don’t fall backwards. 

“I pictured y-you coming after me…after I left the cantina, and- ah ffuck-” You scream out as soon as he lowers his hand and squeezes your ass once before holding onto your waist again.

“Focus.” He warns with a light pull to your hair, and you open your eyes for a moment to look down at him, almost sobbing when you see how far dilated his pupils are as he trails kisses and nips down your chest. Tech narrows his eyes at you, not caring for how overwhelming he might be making you feel as he wraps his lips around one nipple and sucks harshly on it. 

“And pulling me into the alley, and- fuck please, I need to-”

“Do go on.” He orders again, this time with a little less patience in his tone. You want to know what he might do to you if you disobey him, but you figured he’d most likely wish to discuss your limits, and his own, before diving into that sort of relationship. 

“I’m sorry…I- I imagined you slamming me against the wall, and pushing one of your thighs in between my legs, so I can- so you would…” You should have known he would fixate on parts of your body when he recognizes how sensitive you are, but you never imagined him to be so consistent in his handling of you. But here he was, promising you indescribable pleasure while holding off from actually pushing you over the edge. 

“Hmm, I thought I noticed that earlier.” Tech raises his eyes to look at you, waiting until you meet his gaze before licking a stripe across your sternum. You try to grab his hair but he quickly grips your wrist tightly, twisting it slowly so he doesn’t hurt you as he brings it behind your back. He holds you against him then, expertly moving your body as he pleases so he can mark your skin with his lips. 

“Please…I’m so- kriff, I need you. You don’t have to…”

“As gratifying as it is to know you do not require me to prepare you any further, I will have to disappoint.” There’s something about hearing him string a proper coherent sentence that drives you mad with lust, and you hate how easy it is for him to make a complete mess of you. But you say nothing, wanting to give yourself to the sensations he was bringing upon your body. 

Then he lets go of you all of a sudden and steps away, leaving you dazed and confused as to why he stopped touching you and pulled from your body. 

“Tech?”

“You must know by now that I seldom leave a job unfinished.” He claims matter-of-factly, fixing his goggles once before moving around your bed and standing near your pillow. He looks down at the state of your covers, then turns his attention to your damp, heaving chest as you try to gasp for air. Your confusion makes him twitch in his jeans, and he doesn’t bother to hide the shameless way he roams his gaze down your stomach to your wet folds. He stares at your thighs for longer than deemed appropriate, and hisses to himself as he fixes himself through the tight fabric of the jeans. You groan at the sight of him, gulping nervously when he leans down and removes his shoes, setting them aside neatly before doing the same with the heavy bag across his back. 

You watch in silence, not knowing what you should say in return. You don’t really understand what he meant by those words, and before you can ask him why he was stretching this out longer than necessary, he moves across your bed and moves all the pillows aside, perching himself up against the headboard of the bed and stretching his legs out until they almost touch your thighs. 

Tech doesn’t say anything else, and when you continue to remain immobile and silent, he raises a curious eyebrow at you before tapping his thighs twice.

“Well, would you rather stare at me all night long or come and take your pleasure from me?”

His question snaps you back to reality and you look down at his thighs when you notice his fingers tap quickly across his jeans, the mere sight of his impatience forcing you to move towards him. 

“Come on, little one. The night is filled with hidden pleasures, ones desperate to be revealed.” You’re certain you’ve never heard his voice sound so lewd and inviting before, and as you crawl to him again, you can’t help but maintain your gaze on his legs, breath hitching suddenly when he parts his thighs to make space for you in between them. As you settle yourself against him, Tech reaches for your hips and pulls you against his chest. 

“And here I thought the mere sight of me offering you what you desire would make you less shy.” He comments passively as you continue to keep your hands to yourself, something that clearly bothers him because within the blink of an eye, he’s putting your arms on his shoulders before slipping his hands down to take hold of your thighs. You call for him, a sound filled with surprise and desire, ones brought upon by the ease with which he continues to handle you. 

You can’t look at him, afraid of how your body will react if you saw the way he was already staring at you. But as you settle on top of him, straddling his thighs much to his content, you decide to throw all your anxiety out the window. Leaning down, you hover your lips across his own, waiting until he gives you a sign that he wanted to kiss you as well. He smiles at you then, raising your chin up so he can take a better look at you. You blink once as you finally meet his eyes, and you’re amazed by how much brighter the brown around his pupils appears now. You’re not sure if they’ve always been this lovely color or if the circumstances were making them even more beautiful, but you meditate on them briefly as you close the last bit of space between the two of you. 

Unlike the first kiss you shared with Tech, this one is much more controlled, softer and sweeter, allowing you a better chance to commit the feel of his lips to memory. He tilts his head as he deepens the kiss, making you sigh against him and open your mouth so you could swallow his moans in turn. His hands knead your hips, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine until you begin to move atop him. As one of his arms moves across your back to apply the slightest of pressure against you so you can move even closer to him, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck and break the kiss, gasping for air dramatically as he moves you back and forth against the tent on his jeans. 

“Fuck,” he swears against your neck, lightly nipping the skin of your jugular as grow more needy with your movement, rubbing your clit against the rough fabric of his jeans as you always imagined. 

“You feel so good Tech,” you moan breathlessly at him, chasing your long-abandoned orgasm with a newfound desperation, hoping that he can bring you there faster than your own hands. 

“This will not do,” Tech mutters to himself, once again pushing you around as he pleases until you’re only straddling one of his thighs. He brings you down harder on him, this time raising his thigh a little off the bed so you can ride him as you please. 

“Oh maker, ff-fuck.” You throw your head back, body shaking with excitement as Tech takes over and moves you against him, flexing his thigh muscles to the best of his abilities as he pushes you hard and fast against the damp material of his jeans. He looks down and feels his heart skip a beat when he sees the clear, wet patch adorning his clothes, squeezing your skin even tightly to ensure that this was, in fact, real.

“I- I can understand why you would call me that, but it is only me, sweet one. If you will reach climax whilst using my thighs, I would greatly appreciate it if you were to call for me…as- kriff, as you promised.” Tech is aware of the way he continues to trip over his words, and he looks up in time to see you smirking at him. He knows exactly why you are smiling so teasingly, and he files the information for later, mostly so he could ensure to have a response ready if and when you decide to jokingly provoke him. He can tell there is something on the tip of your tongue, and before you can retort with probably humorous sentiment, he brings you back and forth harshly against his jeans, licking his lips as you offer him the desired response in return. 

“Tech, I’m so close…please baby.” 

He groans then, his breathing growing more erratic as you continue to beg him to ease the fire settling in your stomach. He never thought he’d appreciate a submissive partner, let alone whispered pet names during such a moment, but he hisses as you continue to say those few words, his cock pushing painfully against the fly of his jeans the faster you ride him. 

Tech inhales deeply, the scent of your warm, wet cunt managing to distract him momentarily from the job at hand. He bites into his lower lip to regain some bit of control, and when he thinks he has a good grip on his desires, he wraps one arm around you before using his other hand to pull and push you against him. 

“You are awfully close, my dear. Perhaps if I were to assist,” he doesn’t elaborate any further, and it’s not long before you feel his expert fingers reaching down and slithering their way in between your cunt and his thigh. As soon as you look down at him, Tech is sure he will never get the image of you out of his mind. 

Glazed eyes. Wet lips. Flushed face. 

“You are positively sinful.” He claims as he leans up and takes your lips in a mindblowing kiss, swallowing your moans with ease as he shoves two of his long, thick fingers past your wet folds and curls them inside your walls. Had he given you a chance to break the kiss, you’re sure you would have been screaming his name until all of Ord Mantell who was making you come undone. 

But he doesn’t let go of you once, shoving his tongue into your mouth as he fucks you with his fingers while rubbing your clit with the palm of his hand. Your eyes are shut tightly, fingers digging into his neck as he shows you the stars with his tongue and his hand.

Tech remembers quickly what you promised him moments ago, and he does break the kiss then, wanting to hear you moan his name as he aided you through your orgasm. He tilts his head back to take a better look at you, and as he meets your eyes, he winks once at you before looking down to watch where he was disappearing inside of you. 

“Tech, I’m-” You can’t finish the thought, the feeling of his fingers consistently hitting your tight walls pushing you over the edge and forcing you to melt against him. 

“Come for me, Y/N.” He orders once, and if you had half a functioning brain cell, you would have asked him where he learned how to talk like that. But you don’t care enough, and you scream his name like a prayer as he continues to coax pleasure out of you. There is a vague sound filling the night air as he continues to finger-fuck you into another little high, and when you open your eyes and look at Tech, you find his own curious gaze zeroed in on where he was pleasuring you. 

But just as you follow his line of sight, he begins to slow down to a stop, making you shudder on top of him now that your body was being offered some respite. It’s only when he breaks the silence and fixes his goggles that you realize what you’d just done. 

“Fascinating!” He calls out as if it is the most normal comment to say after making you come the hardest you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. Tech doesn’t care to remove his fingers from you, and without a warning, he curls the tips of his two fingers once, watching with interest as your entire body jolts forward and your voice breaks in a rather pornographic moan. 

“The actions your body performs in response to the stimuli I deliver to it are most impressive, mesh’la.” You shouldn’t be surprised by him, and it’s endearing how careful he becomes as he slips his fingers out of you while soothing your back with the other hand. Once again, you’re about to respond to him with something snarky about where his priorities are, but you don’t find the words when you see him hold his fingers up and stare at them. 

“Interesting, I was well aware of how messy this act could be but I did not expect to be this-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I could…I know how much you dislike stains and-”

“You misunderstand me, cyar’ika. I was merely attempting to inform you of how much I thoroughly enjoyed you drenching my hands and my clothes.” Tech interrupts your thoughts from running away from you, and you stare at him with wide eyes as his words finally settle in your mind. You weren’t sure how to deal with this new bit of information, because the last thing you ever expected to hear was Tech telling you that he enjoyed you squirting on him. You can already feel your chest tighten as his confession reignites the need you have for him, which is made even worse not a moment later as he raises his fingers to his face and wraps his lips around them. 

You forget how to breathe as Tech shuts his eyes and hums approvingly at what he’s tasting, the action and sound so lewd that you attempt to clench your thighs above him to relieve the growing pressure. 

“I must admit, the taste of you does not compare to my imagination.” Had you not known the man beneath you for so long, you would have thought he was doing this on purpose. But you knew Tech, and you were sure he was only speaking his inner monologue out loud as he always does. Whatever is next on his lips is interrupted when he looks down and watches as you not-so-subtly try to touch yourself again. 

“You are quite needy, aren’t you?” He takes his fingers out of his mouth and places his hand back on your body, roaming both his palms across your skin so he could feel the effect he was having on you. 

“Tech…I need you.” You beg shamelessly, leaning into him in an attempt to rile him up with another kiss. 

“I believe you sweetheart, but I do owe you an apology.” Tech nudges your nose with his own, smirking to himself when your expression changes into a pout and you furrow your eyebrows at him. He would tell you later that he absolutely adored the look on your face when you were confused, but he had another, more pressing matter at hand, and he did not want to drag this out any longer. 

“You wished to use my thighs to orgasm, but I- well, I became greedy and used my hands instead.” He kisses the corner of your mouth once, barely managing to hold back from shoving you beneath him and taking what he wanted from you in return. 

“Maker, I don’t care Tech…I just want you. I want you to fuck me, with your cock this time. Please, we can…we can do that later.” You reach down to his jeans, cupping him through the wet fabric in an attempt to get him to put you out of your misery and give you what you’ve longed for. But he’s much quicker than you, and he snaps his hand to your wrist immediately, dragging it away from his hard cock so he doesn’t get distracted by your touches. 

“Humor me, mesh’la. I desperately want to know if you can reach climax with such a simple action. You have taken what you wanted, and now I ask for this in return.” You know, as well as him, that he’s only doing this to torture you, that he’s only using his interest in experiments to disguise such his perverse need to make you suffer. 

“But I-” 

“If you do, I promise to give you my cock. Even better, I promise to fill you up all night long, until you are no longer begging for release but respite.” Tech breaks your train of thought, and he smirks down at you when he sees the gears shifting in your mind at his proposition. He didn’t need to read your mind to know that you’ve already agreed to his terms, and with one last quick peck on your lips, he releases your hands and rests his back against the headboard once more. 

You readjust on top of him, placing the palms of your hands on his chest to keep yourself up. 

“There’s a good girl.”

[the-atlas-sister]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝔸𝕥𝕝𝕒𝕤 (Sully Siblings x Sister!Na’vi!Fem!Reader) Part 3

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/mooskey/724247343162114048/%F0%9D%95%8B%F0%9D%95%99%F0%9D%95%96-%F0%9D%95%8A%F0%9D%95%9A%F0%9D%95%A4%F0%9D%95%A5%F0%9D%95%96%F0%9D%95%A3-%F0%9D%94%B8%F0%9D%95%A5%F0%9D%95%9D%F0%9D%95%92%F0%9D%95%A4-%F0%9D%95%84%F0%9D%95%92%F0%9D%95%A4%F0%9D%95%A5%F0%9D%95%96%F0%9D%95%A3%F0%9D%95%9D%F0%9D%95%9A%F0%9D%95%A4%F0%9D%95%A5

Warnings!: Blood, violence, vulgar language, angry Jake, angst, toxic parenting 

They held you in the dark and cold. You could feel the cool metal of their gun and other forms of violence against your skin, making it crawl. 

You heard the men talk before they sulked into the forest. 

Your ears suddenly perked at the familiar yipping sound in the distance. You caught the gaze of your siblings who all held knowing looks. 

Kiri began to pray to the Great Mother quietly, causing the man holding her and Spider to hiss a small, “shut up.” 

The chaos began when an arrow landed in the man’s skull.

“Contact rear!” Quaritch yelled, shoving the still restrained Kiri and Spider against a tree. The whole squad went into a frenzy, nearly all of them shoving you and your siblings aside as they directed their firearms in the direction of which the arrow had come from.

 You’re eyes caught a glimpse of the arrow tip still protruding from the lifeless body. You recognized the familiar colored feathers, confirming what you had previously believed. 

Your parents had come to find you. 

“Lo’ak! Now!” you yelled, turning your head to your brother. He caught your eyes before quickly pulling out the pin of a nearby soldier’s grenade. A green gas shot out of the small container causing the soldier to panic. Lo’ak then swiftly spun around and bit his capture’s arm, causing him to let out a pained yowl and release your little brother. Tuk watched her brother before doing the same. 

“Lo’ak!” she yelled as soon as she was released. She ran towards the older boy, both running off into the night. 

As Lo’ak ushered Tuk away from the scene and deeper into the forest, you took your moment. You let out a hiss, pulling your wrists close to your body and head butting the man who restrained you with the back of your skull. He let out a wail and released you, quickly grabbing his now bleeding nose. You rushed away from him, grabbing the small gun in his thigh holster and pointing it at him. 

“Y/n!” Lo’ak yelled, now noticing that you weren’t behind him and Tuk. 

“Lo’ak- go! Get Tuk!” you yelled, shooting the man in the head, causing him to collapse. 

“But-”

“Lo’ak, I’ll be there, go- now!” 

Lo’ak stared at you before doing what he was told, cursing himself for doing so. 

You let out a quiet sigh as the two left your sight before turning back to the now dispersed group. You spun in a circle, letting out a loud hiss. 

“Y/n, hey kid,” a fuzzy voice sprung into your ear. 

Your radio! 

You had forgotten that you had been wearing it. 

“Dad,” you answered, pressing the button on your neck. You could hear an audable sigh from the other side of the line. 

“Hey babygirl, are your siblings out?” your father questioned, and even in such a panicked setting, you felt your heart swell at the nickname he so often used with your sisters and so rarely with you. 

“Yeah, they’re safe.”

“Good, now your turn. Get your ass out of there.” 

“Yes, sir,” you responded before dashing into the dark forest. You dashed through trees, your feet easily avoiding the roots and branches you knew all too well since childhood. 

“Y/n!” Your face lit up at the familiar voice of your brother. 

“Neteyam!” you said, allowing the boy to embrace you. “Dad allowed you to come?” you questioned pulling away and watching as he pulled out a small knife. 

“Not exactly,” Neteyam responded, quick to cut your restraints. “Where did you get that?” He nodded towards the small gun in your hand. 

“Dead guy,” you responded. “Come on.” 

Your brother nodded at your statement before following you further into the dense forest. “Wait, wait,” he hissed, stopping in his tracks. “Mom.” 

You followed his gaze to see another man pointing his gun in the direction of your shared mother. She stood high in a tree, unaware of the danger. An easy target for a seasoned war dog. 

Without a second thought, you cocked your gun, shooting the man in the stomach. He let out a groan before he fell to the ground from the force of Neteyam’s arrow. 

“Prepare another,” you whispered, hearing the sounds of gunshots. Neteyam did as he was told before you were both pushed out of the way. Where you stood now was a flurry of bullets. 

“Go! Go! Go!” the voice of your father yelled, pulling his eldest children against a tree. “Hey, hey.” His stern voice pulled you from the sounds of gunshots and war, making you look at him. “You okay? You two okay?”

You both let out a series of ‘yeahs’, Neteyam constantly looking over his shoulder and around the tree. 

“You two with me,” he stated. “Ready, ready?” 

“Yes sir,” the two of you echoed as if you were indeed soldiers in war. 

Your father then swung around the tree, shooting at the squad following you. “Move!” he yelled as he shot. As soon as you saw him dash into the forest, you followed. The three of you darted through the jungle, ducking and jumping over and under roots and branches. You swiftly avoided the occasional bullets being sent your way. 

Finally, you reached a small clearing, coming within contact of your family. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” your father said, holding Tuk as she cried for him. 

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, rushing to Lo’ak. You threw your gun to the ground and grabbed Neteyam’s knife. You were quick to break the binds of his restrains and inspected him. 

He nodded, seeming a bit dazed before hugging you gently. You began to breathe heavily, the reality of the experience setting in. 

“It’s okay, we’re okay,” you said, hugging your little brother tighter. 

“We’re okay, we’re all clear,” your father said as your mother and sister arrived in the clearing. 

You released Lo’ak, allowing your father to pull him and Neteyam into a comforting hug. 

“Thank you Great Mother,” your mother cried, holding your arm tightly as she held your sisters. 

“They took him,” Kiri cried, looking up at you. “Spider, they took him.” 

“I know,” you cooed, allowing her to fall into your arms. “It’ll be okay, he’s your brave monkey boy, huh?” You stroked her hair and watched carefully as your parents shared a look. 

“We need to get back,” your mother said, her voice shaky as she stood, still clinging to Tuk and now Neteyam. 

“Go ahead, Neteyam, lead the family, Y/n and I will follow the rear,” your father said, nodding at each family member as he directed them. 

“Yes sir,” Neteyam said, his voice shaky as well. It was obvious he was still recovering from actually being in battle but still followed your father’s orders. 

You and he watched as the family began forward. 

“Grab that gun again,” he ordered, looking directly at the small gun on the forest floor. You did as you were told, feeling the air shift between the two of you. “What the hell happened?” your father asked coldly as you began to follow your siblings. Your head hung at his words. “You’re the oldest. You’re supposed to keep your siblings out of trouble!” His whispers were harsh and full of rage. “You four know you’re not supposed to be out there. You disobeyed our rules and your siblings were put in danger because of it! You’re 18 years old for godsake, y/n.” 

“I’m sorry sir,” you mumbled, feeling tears prickle in your eyes. 

“Neteyam’s younger than you and follows rules better,” your father mumbled, probably to himself, but his words made your fists and heart clench. 

You stayed silent, quickly wiping away tears that made their way from your eyes. 

A/n Heh- sorry if I’m reintroducing trauma for some of you. 

Tag List! sparks0918  @the-mourning-moon​ @justpasssingby @thehoneymushroomhealer ictoa  ladylovegood-69

If you’d like to be added to the tag list just let me know!

Y’all want the reader to have a love interest, so the next poll is for who that love interest will be!

https://www.tumblr.com/mooskey/724245349688131584/who-should-be-the-readers-love-interest-make?source=share

[rat-king-writes]

Genji x male reader who is also an cyborg ninja like Raiden Metal Gear Rising Revengeance

( Thank you for the ask . )

Synopsis ; You are a half cyborg ninja , the other cyborg ninja ( Genji ) takes interest in you because of this .

Cw ; Minor violence ( I am so sorry I keep including some violence . )

-Being half human half cyborg was a tough way to live. You were constantly being eyeballed by both human and omnics alike, and people would avoid you on the streets like a plague. Your life has changed ever since the incident, and you often found yourself hopping from hotel to hotel, or even on the streets. Though this lifestyle seemed dangerous to outsiders, you weren't in any sort of trouble usually. You had grown up learning how to wield blades and other weapons, so you were safe from attackers who thought they could take advantage of you.

-Eventually your skills caught the eye of none other than Talon, a primarily morally bad organization that wants your talent for their own gain. And being that you are alone, broke, and essentially homeless; you take the offer to join them. Your first few days were rough. Being flung into a new environment full of people who didn’t care for rules or anything was a less than ideal situation. But what else could you do? You weren’t about to go back to hotel hopping. So you just steered clear of everyone outside of missions where you were forced to interact, but it was usually just yelled orders in your direction.

-On one terrible morning in Talon, you were called down for a debrief for a mission against Overwatch. A name you heard many times, but never really encountered on the field yet. Everytime Doomfist would mention the organization, he would do it in a way that taught you to despise them, so you knew they had to be absolute assholes, right? But you were also an asshole working with Talon, and your own research on overwatch concluded they wanted to save the world, but according to Doom they weren’t doing it right. This job was incredibly confusing. The mission was simple: infiltrate an Overwatch weapons facility and steal weaponry and maybe any intel Sombra - another Talon agent - could find. Simple, right?

-Wrong. Not simple, because when you arrived on scene, there were already guards there. No biggie, you could climb the wall and get in yourself while Sombra does her hack things. So you do; scaling the wall with ease and slipping into an open window. You landed on a grated platform, above all the weapons and equipment. Some guards were gathered there, so you carefully crouched down, readying your blade and swiftly taking each guard out before they could raise a gun to you. You pull back and place your sword in the holster, taking out your radio to tell your teammates the room is clear for extraction.

-When the other Talon agents arrive and start looting, you're instructed to keep watch, perching yourself back onto the grated high ground you had once been on. Everything was going well. Until there was a slice in the air and someone was lunging towards you. The speed caught you off guard, but you were able to quickly dodge before whoever was attacking you grabbed you. You lunged back, unsheathing your sword and looking at the assailant.

-You were shocked to see a man clad in a robotic like suit, similar to yours. You weren’t the only shocked one, as the attacker also seemed to be in the same position of confusion. You both stare at each other for a solid minute before you both, at the same time lunge forward; you both promptly stop in shock once more, a bit in awe at the similarity. It’s the presumed Overwatch agent that strikes first, throwing three shuriken at you. You lunged out of the way, but one managed to slice its way into the metal of your upper arm. Quickly regaining your senses, you run at him with a sword and, of course, he also has a sword.

-After a bit of back and forth a shout came from one of your team members signifying that it was time to go. You dash off of the grated platform and onto a vehicle containing the stolen goods and your team members. All the while you keep your eyes glued onto the green and grey robot man, he doesn’t do anything, he lets you go. The ride back to base was filled with laughter and pride. But you stayed quiet, something about the man you encountered left you stunned, and oddly, you wanted to see him again. You chalked these intruding thoughts up to years of loneliness and mistreatment clouding your judgment. Yet you still sit in your seat, hand delicately tracing the shuriken he had lodged in your arm, pondering what would have happened if you and that man met under different circumstances.

-Later that night you left the house in search of. Well, peace. The base had gotten louder because of the successful heist, and you just needed to get away for a bit. You head to your usual spot, a cliff-like area where you could sit down and relax. You were there for about 30 minutes before you were suddenly disrupted by someone walking up behind you, their footsteps were oddly quiet so you were sure it was someone trying to mug you or something. It was a shock when the person didn’t rob you, but instead sat down next to you. It was the robot man from earlier. You were very confused but he didn’t seem violent and you two just sat there for a bit. You kept your guard up, but you found yourself enjoying the company. No one talked, and it would stay like that until the man left. You also left after a bit, in a much better mood than before.

-The next following months each and every night you would sit at that spot and the man would join you. The first few weeks you two didn’t speak, but eventually you both introduced yourselves. You had learned through one of your many conversations the reason why Genji was the way he is, and you had also confided in him of your own story. In many of your conversations Genji would ask you to quit Talon and transfer to Overwatch, or just leave Talon and disappear somewhere ( Of course he told you to keep contact with him ). However each time you would shut it down, you had heard way too many speeches about the repercussions of splitting off, and you didn't think anyone in Overwatch would be fond of you joining.

-That is until a few weeks later Genji had told you of an ex Talon member who was welcomed easily into the Overwatch agency ( Not without some backlash from Talon itself ). So after careful consideration, and Genji's persistence, you two devised a plan. Firstly, Genji would tell Overwatch about your situation, and then you would pack; later that night you would sneak away and never return. Genji, the absolute sweetheart, was even able to stick you in a base that was farther away as it would help you steer clear of any Talon agents while your disappearance is processed.

-There were a few Overwatch agents there already, as well as Genji who also stayed with you. so you were well protected if anything were to happen. Thankfully it didn't. The base was nice, quiet, and the people there were much friendlier but a bit overwhelming so you usually hung out with Genji in your room. During that time you two just kept getting closer and closer, and eventually Genji showed you his face. That moment your heart was pounding, he was unbelievably gorgeous, and though he hated his scars you absolutely adored them. You worried him though, your long seconds of silence made you believe that you were uncomfortable, but you assured him you were just in so much shock someone could be that handsome.

-From that day on there was a new bloom to your relationship, you two sat closer, Genji would take off his mask, and you would take off your own prosthetics. It was something new, but something you realized you needed, and looked forward to. When you were finally cleared for safety, you and Genji went back to the main base and your feelings only grew from there. Missions with him felt more meaningful, watching him save people or show off was a thrill you never knew you could enjoy. And everytime you did something good, he would praise you after making your heart beat in your chest loudly.

-Of course your feelings got too unbearable to ignore, and one humid night you asked him out. Out to the same cliff he had joined you in originally. You both sat in silence until you mustered enough courage to spill your heart to him. It was fast, clumsy, and probably confusing. But in the end Genji takes off his face plate and smiles at you, telling you he feels the same. Time seems to stop for a minute, but you smile back and grab his hand, dragging him back to base. You would only really be affectionate in private, the quiet 'I love you's' hidden behind closed doors. However sometimes during battle Genji will bump his faceplate into your cheek until you give it a kiss.

[writingpiecesak]

Hiii can you right a bakugo x severely injured reader

we dont get enough of these😓😓 IF YOU DO THANK YOUUU

Hiii , wasn’t sure how much severely injured or if blood was okay butttt yes! Love this idea!! ❤️

also it’s pretty lengthy lol i wasn’t sure when to stop 😅 also I had this song in mind while writing this.

It was supposed to be a simple evacuation mission. Simply guide the residents to safety and rescue any injured civilians then take them to the medical tents for treatment. You were assigned to Ground Group B, go through each alley way of apartments and help civilians out of harm's way. Your partner dashed off to help the others taking on Slade and his minions. You moved quickly and silently, you never knew who could be lurking about.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now, take my hand.” You extended your arm out to a terrified child, hiding behind the dumpsters covered in dirt. The air was filled with dust and rubble from the fallen buildings, the child looked to you, his hand trembling in fear. You waited patiently till his hand was fully in yours, and slowly you guided him out of his hiding spot.

“Alright, don’t let go okay? Stay with me, you’ll be okay.” You reassured him.

Your other hand stayed hovered above your thigh holster, securing a flare gun in case you needed aid to your position. You were holding his hand tightly as you walked through the streets desperately trying to find the route you knew that led to safety.

With the thickness of the dusty air clouding your vision, you decided to use your quirk to help light the way. Your quirk, Rays, is able to make waves of blinding lights enough to illuminate a dark forest and when concentrated enough can blind an enemy for a whole five minutes. But for now, you used only enough as a flashlight would.

“yo sunshine, what are your coordinates?”

His voice startled you for a moment, only a moment until annoyance took over.

“What did I say about calling me that?” You tap your ear piece that has a built-in mic that withstands over 200 meters and works connectively like Bluetooth.

“Tsk, you still respond to it. Where are you?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m here on the ground, trying to help this kid I found to a medic tent. He has some surface wounds.”

You glanced back at the young kid who naively sucked his thumb as a way to help make himself feel safe. You chuckled.

“Where's your partner? I thought there was a buddy system.”

“Oh you mean Aoyama? He took off, said he wanted to help you guys fight Slade. Didn’t really give me a choice, isn’t he there?” You whispered, peering around a corner of a building scoping out for any signs of threat.

“No…he isn’t, wait so you’re alone?”

You smiled softly, “Aww, are you worried about little ol’ me, Katsuki? Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.”

“I never doubted that Sunshine. Just don’t like the idea of you alone out there.”

A soft smile played on your lips, “You don’t like the idea of me period, Suki.” You said sarcastically.

“Tsk, never that Sunshine.”

This fun little banter you had going on with Katsuki actually helped ease your nerves a bit. You both had this secret push and pull game you two played together and it was really the best thing you could cling to at a time like this. You didn’t like the idea of being alone, especially with obscured vision and in the presence of a young civilian. You could light the entire block if you wanted but you didn’t want to give away your position to potential threats.

“Katsuki?” You questioned when static was playing through your ear piece.

“H-He’s –––stay–—move!”

You stopped in your tracks trying to make sense of those broken parts of his voice. Your breathing became more heavy and you quickly tugged the kid closer, lifting him to your arms basically carrying him as his legs instinctively wrapped around your waist.

“Is the bad guy here?” The young boy asked nervously.

“I’m not sure. We have to hide for now.” You started to run down the street in hopes of just finding the evacuation zone by luck.

“He’s gone! Slade left the field, stay where you are, don't move!”

You were listening to his words yet at the same time a figure in the distance was emerging. Your eyes squint trying to make out if this was a friend or foe. You stopped in your place and waited for some kind of signal, the figure was walking closer but something about them seemed injured almost as if they were limping.

Another civilian? You thought, slowly placing the child down slowly on his two feet. You started to approach the person but the young boy tugged on your hand, his eyes pleading you to stay. You crouched down to meet his eye level.

“I have to see if they need my help. They could be hurt.” You patted his head affectionately.

You took a deep breath and turned to the person, who stood there not making a sound nor were they walking towards you anymore. You proceeded with caution, shimmering light emerging from the palms of your hands.

“Are you okay, do you need some help?” You shouted, taking baby steps closer, your gut was fighting your steps telling you to turn back, to run, to hide, to blind this person before they could hurt you.

You should’ve trusted your gut.

Your eyes grew wider as you saw this person raise his arms, aiming for a sonic boom clap, but not at you. Your eyes traveled to where their hands were pointed and horror filled your veins. There was no injured civilian. This was Slade.

His sonic boom clap would send this kid to oblivion, killing him instantly. Your feet quickly took off heading back for the kid who stood there fidgeting with his fingers. Every step from your feet echoed in your head, and for a ration second, you threw your hand back and used Ray to its full extent, waves of blistering white hot light shot out from your hand instantly blinding Slade causing him to throw his aim off.

At the very last second, his hands clapped and his sonic boom trashed to the nearby building. Cracks spiderwebbed across the walls, and the ground trembled beneath their feet. The young kids' eyes were full of panic and tears. You were close, so close. Just enough to grab him but then debris rained down from above, shattering windows and blocking your only pathway to reach for him. With each passing moment, the building groaned under the strain, its supports buckling under the immense pressure. The building began to crumble. Floors pancaked on top of each other as the structure collapsed in on itself.

With the surge of desperation you reached out for the kid and in a blink of an eye, you pulled him out of his stand still panic state, and tossed him to the other side of the street, clearing him from the damage that’s now been done.

The kid cried out as he watched rocks of cement topple over you and bury you inside. Dust and smoke filled the air once again, the boy crawling over trying to remove any pieces of debris. He couldn’t leave you. Not after you saved him.

.

.

.

“Damn what was that!” Denki shouted, pointing towards the town where different groups of rescuers were dispatched. Their eyes watched as smoke rose from the unknown to them, a fallen building. Katsuki had a bad feeling, he turned away, turning his mic back on.

“Sunshine? Come in Sunshine?”

“Who’s Sunshine?” Ashido tuned in, “He means y/n, only he calls her that for whatever reason.” Denki reminded her.

“Shut up assfaces! Sunshine, come in, what was that explosion?”

His only response was static. He chewed his bottom lip and ripped off his ear piece in frustration. He took a glance at his group, fairly enough everyone was doing okay with minor injuries. His head was doing backflips and somersaults trying to think if you were okay.

“Sunsh–Y/n isn’t answering her coms.” He informed Izuku.

“Wait really? Maybe she’s with her group rounding up the civilians and heading to the hospital.”

“That’s shit, she would’ve answered me. I’m going to look for her.” He pushed aside Izuku.

“W-Wait Kachan you can’t go by yourself!”

“Try and stop me.” He sneered before taking off.

He blasted through the air heading towards the faded smoke cloud only to see that Izuku was right on his tail following him. He scoffed but didn’t reject any help.

His mind was racing with possibilities. Maybe you were farther than 200 meters. Maybe Izuku was right, you could be at the hospital right now tending to victims' needs. Or perhaps your ear piece fell out. Anything was better than what his mind was creating.

“Down there!” Izuku pointed.

Katsuki's eyes saw the fallen building and a small kid sitting against the rubble hugging his knees. The two landed right by and immediately went to the crying child. Izuku, handling kids better than Katsuki, took charge.

“Hey little guy, are you alright? What’s wrong, what happened here?” He helped dust him off and wipe away his tears.

“Bad guy..” He sniffled.

Meanwhile, Katsuki was looking around for any information or indication on your whereabouts. Checking the ground for a broken earpiece. He could ask for the story later but right now his only concern was you. There was no one in sight. His heart was falling to the pits of his stomach, his breathing becoming shallow at the narrowing of possibilities.

“A-And then, she sa-saved me.”

“Who kid?” Katsuki quickly pulled the kid towards him, also crouched down to his size. The young boy only lowered his head, tears flowing through as his small hand pointed to the pile of rubble besides them.

Both Izuku and Katsuki's eyes slowly looked over to what he had pointed at. Katsuki’s heart pounded in his chest as he frantically began sifting through the debris, his hands bloodied and trembling with each movement. Every fiber of his being was consumed by the desperate need to find you, his Sunshine. With each passing moment, his fear intensified, driving him to dig deeper, to search harder, refusing to accept the possibility of you being lost to him forever. Every tug on another rock, his eyes were filling, stinging of tears that threatened to fall. His sniffles reminded him what he could possibly lose. No more fun banter. No more Sunshine jokes. No more late night talks. No more pranks pulled. No more secret stargazing. No more teasing of his hair. No more beautiful smiles when you laughed. No more stolen glances. No more shy compliments that make you blush. No more. No more you.

And then, amidst the rubble, he saw you. You laid motionless, battered and broken, your body barely recognizable beneath the broken glass and concrete. Horror washed over him as he knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he gently cradled you in his arms. Tears welled in his eyes as he whispered your name, praying for a sign of life. But you remained still, your breathing shallow and faint. He brushed your hair to the side letting rugged sobs escape his lips.

Izuku immediately discharged his flare gun while talking to his teammates on their coms, informing them on the situation at hand. Katsuki holding you dearly, praying for a miracle, for you to open your eyes and just joke about how much you scared him.

“Please..please Sunshine..please open your eyes.” He begged.

“Katsuki maybe we should–” His eyes darted to the crying child.

“I’m not leaving her!” Katsuki screamed out, his voice hoarse.

Every fiber of his being ached with sorrow as he struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the tragedy that had befallen them. The weight of guilt and helplessness bore down on him, threatening to crush his spirit as he grappled with the realization that he had failed to protect the one person who meant everything to him. Tears blurred his vision as he knelt beside the pile of debris, his heart torn asunder by the devastating loss. In that moment, Katsuki felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness, as if the very essence of his being had been ripped away, leaving nothing but a hollow shell in its wake.

[hannahdalaney-blog]

black cat

Daryl x plus-size reader

summary: another run with daryl and you find a cat

warnings: cute daryl, walks mentioned, fluff , prison era

Going on runs is not your favorite thing in the world. Being a bigger person sometimes left you venerable to the horrors of the apocalypse. But going on runs with Daryl was nice he was mostly quiet but always made sure we did things smoothly and safely.

That being said today's run was painful. You've been our for a few hours and came up completely empty, Daryl hasn't said a word for at least on hour. He hated riding in the car mostly because you always drive, not that your driving is the worst but he loves his bike.

"hey we should hit up that store by the mall." you say looking over at Daryl, he was leaned all the way back in his seat his foot up on the dash.

"nah we should head back, it hasn't been cleared." you roll your eyes starting up the car.

"that's the point, we need to go back with something." you drive off in the direction of the store ignoring Daryls loud sigh. Everyone back at the prison needs this, you need this. Going back with nothing would mean you failed.

You pull into the store parking lot turning off the car. Daryl takes the lead steeping in front of you, sometimes it's nice but it can get annoying watching him threat you like a kid. The area was quite nine times out of ten that meant it was good. He opens the door ringing the bell, of course there's a bell. I mean who puts a bell in a grocery store?

"keep your eyes open." he says his voice low and quiet. You nod pulling your knife out from its holster. It was still silent maybe this time it would stay that way; nope. As soon as the thought came into your head growling started to reach your ears.

"shit." you muttered turning to dee them pile in front of the door hitting the glass. Daryl steps in front of you pushing you behind him.

"its fine there's only three and were on the other side of the glass." you state as he takes a hose by the register and ties the door shut. Now, let's pray to who ever is up there that there is something in this store.

Daryl follows after you as you start looking for anything to bring back. You find some crackers and chips stuffing them in your bag.

"so did you have any pets or anything?" you ask searching through the isles.

"no" was all he said, looking around him but keeping an eye on the door. Daryl wasn't really one for talking but you always tried anyways.

" I had a guinea pig, his name was Klaus." you smile, he was a fat little black and white ball of fur.

"Klaus?" he repeated.

"yeah, its a good name. He died of old age while I was in collage." the thought made your smile drop but you shouldn't think about that right now.

"anyways I love cats I grew up around a lot of them, I had a black one I named phenix but I had to leave him with my grandma while I moved and he ran away." you ramble on still searching.

"hmm" is all he said looking you up and down.

"very sad but I think we should get one right?" you sigh finding nothing, you've been here for awhile.

"get what?" you turn to him fully looking at him now.

"a pet, I think we should get a cat." you smile hoping that he would just say sure and move on. You really did want a cat you just have to find one.

"like..the two of us?" he practically whispered. It almost made you laugh, it was cute.

"yeah, the two of us. ill let you name it." you really didn't plan for it to be for just the two of you maybe a family thing. But he seemed to like the idea of it being for just the two of you.

"how considerate of you." he mumbles looking away.

"of course, now we just need to find one." finding anything alive these days was just as rare as finding food. You search the rest of the store and find some more food putting in yours a Daryls bags.

"aren't you glad I'm always right?" you tease smiling at Daryl you could see the faint smile on his face too. You head for the back door finding everything clear, Daryl goes around to the front and takes down the walkers insisting that you stay behind him. He took your bag and threw it in the back seat.

"awe Dixon, I know you love me." Daryl fully smiles this time shaking his head. You freeze as you open the drivers door, a small meow caused you to turn and almost run to the noise. Your whole body almost jumps for joy when you find a cute little black cat coming around the back of the store.

"oh.my.god." you crouch to the ground the cat walking closer and closer.

"Daryl is like a miracle." you stare in awe as the cat rubs against your leg.

"I didn't think you would actually find one." he mumbles from behind you. You wave him over and he crouches next to you the cat moving on to rubbing against him. It was a cute moment, one that made you want to take the cat home.

" what are you gonna name it?" he looks at you and then back down at the cat petting it.

"I don't know, why don't you name it." he seems to be more interested in the cat than you now. You stand up stretching your arms, this is a good day.

"why don't we take it home and decide." you pick up the cat cradling it in your arms. Daryl follows behind you getting in the passenger seat.

You pass the cat to Daryl and he sets it in his lap petting it as soon as it lands in his hands. Of course you're smiling as big as you can, you love cats and seeing this side of Daryl you love it too.