#gripping the armrests of my chair very tightly oh boy

[nerdanel01]

Vincent around the age Emmrich is is in the Aostrolf's Weed AU. Just leaving it here 🙈💀💚

hold on. hold on. gonna need a minute.

[winsmoke]

　　　　　❥ Chapter 1: Help Wanted

Series Synopsis: Privately self-medicating, the 7 members of NCT Dream are all withering away under the pressure of idol life. Unable to cope on their own, they want something to hold, caress, and squeeze away the stress… a teddy bear of sorts. So the boys decide to secretly hire you, their human teddy bear, to help them out. As they explore your mind and body, you discover and confront the problems they’ve been hiding. However, one girl can only support seven boys for so long and you can’t be their teddy bear forever.

Warnings: [no smut or angst - this is probably the tamest chapter] swearing, talking about penis oral sex, mentioning sex on the beach to a minor, y/n asks if she will be a personal cum dump

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: NCT Dream x y/n (has a vulva and uses she/her pronouns)

Links: disclaimer • masterlist

May

　“She has to be nice,” Jisung starts, gripping the armrests of the chair tightly.

　The other six boys around the office exchange smirks. So typical of Jisung.

　“Don’t want anyone judging you when you fall on your face, right?” snickers Chenle.

　Jaemin swats at Chenle’s shoulder in Jisung’s defense. “Whatever, she can’t be mean.”

　Beside the youngest, Jeno rubs his chin thoughtfully. “But not too nice. If she doesn’t have a backbone we’ll never know if she’s actually comfortable around us or not.”

　The playful mood dims as each boy imagines pushing a girl into doing something she never wanted. Each gives a small nod in agreement.

　“She needs to be independent since she’s going to be by herself a lot,” Renjun comments from the back of the room. Too anxious to sit, he chose to lean against the wall.

　“But she also should be good at making friends because all seven of us need to like her,” Haechan adds, his hands folded tightly on his lap.

　“She needs to be interesting too. I want someone I feel like I can talk to forever,” Renjun says while tapping his cheek.

　Mark crosses his arms. “Okay, but she needs to be a private person. Preferably not too many friends or family so it cuts down the chances that she talks about us.”

　“That’s what we have the non-disclosure for,” Chenle reminds while rolling his eyes. “I want her to be a good cuddler. That’s the whole point of the job anyways.”

　“I want her to be very clean and healthy. I don’t want to share my apartment with a stranger who isn’t,” Jaemin says as he purses his lips.

　Jeno closes his eyes, trying to imagine the perfect girl in his mind. “I just need someone who I can trust. Someone honest and loyal.”

　Chenle stares down at his hands. “Yeah, emotional maturity would be nice.”

　Haechan tries to think about this more logically. “Considering the work we do, it might be difficult for the average 20-22 year old girl to relate to us. Maybe she’ll be able to understand us better if she’s worked a lot before.”

　Mark nods slowly. “That’s true. They should be unique jobs too since being an idol is multifaceted. Preferably some travel experience as well.”

　Renjun bites his lip nervously. “She needs to know how to adapt,” he says while studying his shoes. “We each have our own eccentric habits. She has to be able to handle it. Help us even... if we need it.”

　“Renjun,” Haechan says sharply.

　“He’s not wrong. You could use some help,” Chenle defends.

　“Oh fuck off,” Haechan mutters.

　Facing the seven boys sits a young man who puts down his pen to crack his knuckles. Startled by the sound, the boys’ attention snap to the man. He wears a dark blue suit and a vague expression as he flaps his cramping hand. Mark narrows his eyes at the small black notebook he had been taking notes on, trying to decipher the upside-down scribbles.

　The man looks up at their tensed faces. “You are asking me to find a girl that might not exist.”

　“She does,” Chenle insists.

　Jisung nods. “And if she doesn’t, we don’t want anyone else.”

　The man in the blue suit nods. “A long questionnaire, video, and photo submissions will be included in the application. Naturally, health and criminal background checks will be required as well. I will narrow down the applicants to maybe 3 girls and send their applications to you to review. Of course, you’re not obligated to select anyone.”

　Silence fills the room. There’s a sort of finality in the air that makes the boys anxious. They never thought they would get this far.

　“How long until you send us their applications?” Jeno asks the question everyone is thinking.

　The man clicks his pen. “If you’re determined to find a girl that meets your criteria—and I’m sure you have more requirements—possibly 6 months? Maybe a year. It really depends on the volume of applicants.”

　“And you’ll make sure that no one knows we’re the ones who are hiring?” Jisung asks.

　The man in the blue suit smiles in a way that is professional but reassuring. “Of course, that’s my job. No one will ever know.”

At a diner, halfway across the world

　“Let’s dine and dash,” Ningning announces, standing from the red-cushioned booth.

　Looking up from the menu, you stare at Ningning incredulously. “This is how you want to celebrate graduating from university?”

　She shrugs. “Why not? Not like the alumni party was any better.”

　Giselle laughs. “Shut up, you’re going to John Hopkins. That’s enough of a celebration.”

　Ningning scrunches her face. “Which is exactly why we should dine and dash. I’m gonna be paying off med school loans until I have gray hair.”

　“Can you sit down? People are starting to stare!” Karina exclaims anxiously as she pulls Ningning into the booth.

　Ningning rolls her eyes. “They’re staring because we’re the only ones under 40.”

　“Can we just order in peace? For once?” you laugh. “Or are we gonna get kicked out again?”

　“That was definitely your fault,” Winter mutters while reading through the menu.

　You huff. “Okay, it was a science museum–aren’t I supposed to be curious?”

　“You literally ignored the ‘Not Open to the Public’ sign,” Winter laughs.

　“It’s not like you were stopping me,” you grumble. “Besides you’re the one that got us kicked out of Chipotle!”

　“You know they have our pictures in the store so the employees know not to let us back in?” Giselle grins.

　“Is this supposed to be a good thing?” Karina groans.

　“Hey, it’s not like we got arrested,” Ningning shrugs.

　You nod. “And that’s all that matters.”

　Karina shakes her head. “Sometimes, I really wonder how you all got GPAs above 3.8.”

　Giselle presses the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically. “How could you ever doubt us.”

　Ningning smirks. “Because you were so busy hooking up with the basketball team.”

　Giselle drops her hand and glares at Ningning. “Whatever. At least I got us in all the clubs and parties for free.”

　“We would have gotten in for free without you,” Ningning shoots back.

　Karina shoots you an inquisitive look. “Yeah, y/n always somehow knew the bouncers.”

　You put your hands up in defense. “Hey, I’m always at the front of the clubs, throwing up. The bouncers and I are buddies, they even chase away the creeps for me.”

　“Your ability to throw up is impeccable,” Giselle sighs.

　“Thank you?” you laugh.

　“Which is why I’m so confused as to why you like giving head. Like, have you thrown up on someone’s dick?” Winter asks with wide eyes.

　“Um… sorry to interrupt but I’ve been standing here for a minute. Can-can I take your order?”

　The five of you turn to face a scrawny waiter with a tray of ice waters. His face untouched by puberty, he looked to be a freshman in high school.

　You squirm uncomfortably in your seat. This boy, likely 8 years younger than you, was making you feel incredibly old. You and Karina exchange guilty glances, both thinking about the conversation he had just overheard.

　But this kind of formality had never bothered your other friends.

　Winter grins. “Yeah, I’d like to order a Sex on the Beach?”

　Giselle removes one of the ice waters from his tray and takes a sip. “Make that two!”

July

　You were never one to reminisce. You never had time for nostalgia. But here you were at 3am getting caught in memories, crying your eyes out, and listening to R&B.

　Despite all the brain-wrenching research papers, skull-splitting classmates, and crippling personal experiences, college had been really amazing. Your rambunctious group of girlfriends undoubtedly was the main reason. All the fucked-up boys and the hollow nights meant nothing when you were with them.

　But they were all gone.

　Your parents and academic advisors had urged you to go to graduate school or find a job but you ignored them. You told them you wanted one summer to relax and not think about your future. But really, you were burnt out and overwhelmed. Everything was changing so quickly and you didn’t feel ready to move on from your undergraduate experience.

　Unlike you, your friends had planned out their futures. Eager to travel with COVID restrictions softening, your friend group positioned themselves at least 1,000 miles away from your university. Ningning had been accepted into the most prestigious medical school in the country, Giselle was headed off to Alaska to study whales, Karina had been hired as an engineer at Tesla in Los Angeles, and Winter was working at a promising start-up in Singapore. You, on the other hand, have no job prospects, and no desire to enter the adult world. You were spending the summer living at home alone. Like always.

　You just wanted another intoxicated walk along the river, another joyride into the night but there was no one to do them with. All your friends from college or high school had jobs, relationships, and reputations. Even your parents were busy celebrating their retirement in various South American countries without you.

　People told you that you were wasting your potential but really, the only thing you were good at was having fun. All the jobs and internships you had done had never touched the serious world. “Fake jobs” you liked to call them. Yes, you did real work but it never felt like it. You always made friends with your boss and coworkers so most of the time, it felt like you were getting paid to fuck around. And once it wasn’t fun anymore, you would quit.

　But as you scrolled through job search websites on your laptop, all the places that used to excite you didn’t seem like enough. Besides Ningning, all of your friends were earning salaries, and hourly pay seemed to pale in comparison. Yet, all the jobs that had salaries seemed too white collar, too close to the grown-up world that you didn’t want to enter.

　Getting frustrated with your options, you began randomly scrolling for a few seconds before clicking on something abruptly. You read out loud: “Visa Intern. Uh no, money is my enemy.”

　You try the scrolling and clicking strategy again, only to land on another credit card company. Glancing at the time in the corner of your laptop screen you groan. It was already 5AM.

　You decide to try randomly clicking one more time. Rubbing your sagging eyelids, you read:

HELP WANTED

In need of a human Teddy Bear for a minimum of 1 year.

Applicant must be a 20-22 year old female and willing to:

Permanently relocate to the clients’ residences

Refrain from contacting anyone and leaving the clients’ residences while under contract

Provide multiple clients with mutually consented mental and physical support

All living and travel (including visa) expenses will be covered. Starting pay $20,000 a month with a signing bonus. More details will be provided if the applicant is successful in obtaining the position.

　“What a weird name… human teddy bear,” you laugh to yourself. “Probably just a group of rich guys who are too socially awkward to date…” You purse your lips and give that concept a thought. “…which honestly does not sound bad.”

　The physical and emotional support didn’t daunt you either. You had your fair share of fuck-buddies and had often helped friends through rough spots. For the most part, you were a level-headed person that could work under pressure.

　Your eyes lingering on the “restrain from contacting anyone” line, you frown. It’s not like you need to talk to friends or family every day. Glancing around your empty bedroom, you shrug. Your friends and parents were scattered around the world without you. As long as you have new places and people to occupy your time with, you won’t need to contact your friends or parents. You’ve always made it work on your own.

　Plus they pay for all your travel and living costs... Entry level jobs rarely provide any sort of benefits. The compensation is quite handsome too - enough to fly you between John Hopkins, Alaska, Singapore, L.A., and anywhere in South America countless times. You fold your lips as you read the description again.

　What really worried you was that you couldn’t leave. You need a sense of freedom. Even during the height of the pandemic, you went outside frequently.

　You know you should be wary. The benefits looked too good to be true. And you can think of at least 3 ways this could end in human rights abuses.

　When you glance through the required application submissions you groan. “Damn, they really tryna get my life story… this is gonna take at least 3 hours.”

　From the way that your feet and eyes are twitching, you can tell that you’re getting delirious. But for whatever reason, your eyes stay glued to your laptop.

　Sticking your laptop charger into a socket, you glare at your screen. “I don’t even know which country this job is in… This is so fucking sus,” you mutter.

　You read over the job position once more, trying to let the information soak in. But the more you read, the crazier the job seems, and the more intrigued you become. You’ve been working odd jobs since you were 14 and you’ve experienced some truly bizarre things. But this… this was something else.

　You sigh loudly. “Fuck it. I’m applying.”

August

　There are two types of people in the world. People who jump off the cliff and people who are too much of a pussy to try. And you’ve never been a pussy.

　At least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself since you accepted an interview for the human Teddy Bear position. You know it’s stupid but you’re growing desperate for change. Your friends fill your Instagram timeline with surreal photos of their new homes and new friends. And your parents still haven’t come back from backpacking in South America. You want something equally drastic, equally as breathtaking, even if it means that you would be off the grid for a year or two.

　So here you are, in some random office building that’s suspiciously empty with a suspicious man in a blue suit. Desperation can do you dirty sometimes.

　After some uncomfortable pleasantries, the man in the blue suit slides a letter across the table. “My clients wrote this letter to you.”

　Your eyes fall onto the glossy red seal embossed with a delicate D. Tearing open the envelope, you take out the paper and read out loud:

Dear y/n,

We are happy to inform you that you have been selected for the Teddy Bear position. We were extremely pleased with your application and are excited to meet you in person. Accepting the position and relocating to Seoul, South Korea can begin at your earliest convenience.

Eagerly awaiting you,

The Dreamies

　“Seoul?” You echo.

　You stare at the letter, dumbfounded. Out of all of the countries you imagined, you had never thought about South Korea.

　“So… this job isn’t like… how do I say this…”

　The man in the blue suit tries to smile but it makes his face look funny. “Yes? I know this might be overwhelming but I am here to answer your questions and assuage your concerns.”

　You blink. Assuage? Damn, this guy is legit. You let out a little sigh. Might as well ask, you are about to sell your soul.

　“Might sound like a stupid question but I’m not like, a signing up to be a personal cum dump, right?” You smile guiltily. “Because that was not my postgraduate plan…” you mutter.

　The man in the blue suit nods politely. “Not a stupid question in any regard. The clients wanted to make it clear that sex is not a part of your job description. The job description does describe physical support which the clients imagined being as simple as a hug or as intimate as sleeping next to each other. Although this is a very ah, unique job, they want it to be as natural as possible. And if sexual intimacy does occur, it will be mutually consented and is not included in your contract.”

　You nod dumbly. So basically, if I have sex with someone it wouldn’t be paid for. “Oh… that’s nice.”

　“Any other questions?”

　“About a million but mostly, who are the Dreamies?”

　“I cannot disclose much until after you sign the non-disclosure. However, they include seven males between the ages of 20 and 22.”

　“How come they don’t want me to leave their home?”

　“They’re public figures. If anyone knew you existed, their careers would be finished. The clients’ top priority is privacy. But since the clients all live in different apartment complexes, I will drive you to a different building every week. Other than that, you’re not allowed to leave until your contract expires.”

　Leaning back in your chair, you let your shoulders slump. You can almost see Karina standing beside you waving a huge red flag. But you had already made up your mind a while ago.

　“Okay… thank you. I, uh, would like to accept the job. But–I need a week before I go. Or–” you pause to look sheepishly at the man in the blue suit. “Am I allowed…?”

　The man in the blue suit nods enthusiastically while he takes the acceptance letter from your hand. “Of course. The clients want to ensure a comfortable transition into this position. They will pay for all moving expenses, including transportation and storage. You will only be allowed one backpack of items which will be inspected by their security upon your arrival. You will be given a weekly allowance to pay for any desired clothes, toiletries, and other necessities.”

　You nod, silently wishing you had brought an old school journal to take notes. It was so much information and you wanted to remember all of it.

　“Excellent, you can begin to go over the non-disclosure, terms of agreement, and contract. As you are aware, this is a year-long contract, but this is subject to change, pending your experience on the job and if the clients deem you inappropriate to service their needs. Discussions about the duration or termination can begin after two months.”

　The man in the blue suit slides a pile of papers in front of you and places a blue pen neatly above the stack.

　“This top file is the most important to the clients. It outlines your guidelines to interact with them. Essentially, every week you will live with a different client. It is critical that you do not discuss your time with the other clients. They work closely with one another and do not want their relationship with you to affect their teamwork.”

　“So basically, I should pretend like the others don’t exist when I’m with one of them?”

　The man in the blue suit looks uneasy. “Not necessarily ‘exist.’ Perhaps ‘avoid talking about’ would be more appropriate. The clients are usually with one another for 8 or more hours every day. They do not wish to start unnecessary disputes over their private lives.”

　You sigh while rubbing your forehead. I guess I can respect that. You nod at the man in the blue suit. “Continue.”

　“As mentioned, they all live in different apartment complexes. Every Monday, I will escort you to the next client’s apartment and the other clients will be unaware of where you are staying each week. For any medical, personal, or professional needs, I will be your point of contact.”

　“And your name is…?”

　The man in the blue suit smiles politely. “The clients thought it would be best if you remain unaware of my name.”

　“Damn, these people really don’t want me to do or know anything,” you groan.

　“To be fair,” he says gently, “your salary is exceptional. Please understand that their careers are on the line if there is the slightest mishap.”

　“Okay, but I can’t leave their apartment at all? Let me guess, I can’t even open a window?”

　The man in the blue suit nods. “If you flip to the next page…”

　Doing as instructed, your eyes fall on the paragraph titled ‘Phone Usage.’ “I can’t post, like, or comment on any social media platform? I can’t even order anything for myself. This is crazy!”

　“It’s a part of the job. I will purchase necessities and any other items for you.”

　You bite your lip. This is insane. You’re pretty much signing away your freedom.

　“Fuck…” you moan, slumping into your chair. “Give me a second to think.”

　Closing your eyes, you weigh your options. It was either this or being stuck at home with no job, parents, or friends.

　Gradually, you raise the stack of papers from the table to your eye level.

　The man in the blue suit sighs in relief. “Please take your time to read and feel free to ask me about anything.”

　You don’t hear him as you finger through the pages and pages of stapled documents.

　The iPhone default ringtone splits through the office. “My apologies,” the man in the blue suit mutters as he slides his mobile out of his pocket. Reading the screen, he smiles apologetically at you. “Please excuse me, I need to take this.”

　Closing the office door firmly behind him, the man in the blue suit accepts the call.

　“Hello?… yes, she just accepted the position… no, she will move in a week… she seems anxious but as to be expected… no, but I will bring her a glass of water after this call… you want me to tell her what?”

　When the man in the blue suit returns, he sets down a thin glass of water with a coaster on your left before sitting.

　“No questions?” he asks gently, observing how you underlined and circled certain words.

　You look up from the terms of employment, eyes dazed. “Huh? No, I’m good.”

　After a tedious hour-long reading session, you had approved all the paperwork and signed every page. Although you had your suspicions, the paperwork was legitimate and you felt confident that the job was real.

　After the man in the blue suit overlooked your signatures, he shuffles the papers cheerfully, happy that he successfully hired the perfect candidate. As he nestles the papers in his briefcase, you gulp down the water that had gone lukewarm.

　“I just spoke with the clients. They’re very pleased that you have taken the position.”

　“Hmm,” you hum softly, trying to drag out a smile through the exhaustion. The last time you had focused this hard was months ago in finals week.

　“They also permitted me to tell you their identities now that you have signed their non-disclosure.”

　You straighten up in the chair. “Do you have any pictures of them?”

　“You can google them if you’d prefer. They’re called NCT Dream.”

　　　　　　　　Read the series

[tooweirdforyou]

The OP Boys & Their Personal Dirty Secrets pt. 2

A/N : Hey hun! I hope you like this! ( i can’t tag you idk why ) I saw you wanted a part two to this and decided to do it because it was fun. I guess, lol. anyways hope you like this! :>

Soooo, don’t judge the gif I couldn’t find anything else. Also I’m kinda tired ;-; alsooo. these ones are a LITTLE bit dirtier.

Warning : NSFW AHEAD! PROCEED WITH CAUTION! ⚠️ ESPECIALLY W/ THATCH.

kid and mihawk don’t have specific dark secrets since I couldn’t think of anything that would yk connect to them. ;-;

Summary : All of these boys and their personal, hidden dirty secrets. PART TWO!

-

Doflamingo

Oh boy, this male, despite his possessiveness, has a bit of a voyeurism kink. He hasn’t yet, but he DEFINITELY wants to turn on the country wide announcement, ( like those screens whatever used in Dressrosa when he talked ) and just fuck you as everyone watches throughout the island. He dreams of it, and one day, HE WILL make it a reality.

“How does it feel?” The lick of his lips and the shit-eating grin was on display all over the island for the people of Dressrosa to see, the image of Doflamingo’s hips thrusting and making contact with your rear.

“Does it feel good to have the whole island watching you being fucked senseless, by me? Their king?”

You couldn’t respond, lost in the insane amount of pleasure that ran through your body, specifically your lower regions. You didn’t even care that you were being watched, basking in the euphoria you were given at the moment.

Doffy’s strings suspended you partially in air, the material binding your body so you couldn’t move in the slightest as he took you from behind.

Arms wrapped around your bare figure, one holding you thigh tightly while the other wrapped around your torso, his hand grasping your throat and his fingers, pressing itself onto the flesh of your neck.

If you were fortunate, your face was cut off from the screen to be visible but your exposed body was seen by everyone who watched.

Doflamingo felt glory and power, as he continued to fuck you for all to see, your sweet, melodic moans echoing through the island as he did this.

What a fantasy that will soon become a reality.

-

Kid

Literally anything but also nothing. I couldn’t think of anything.. so here’s a kink he has! Dominant Submission. (?) basically, he LOVES the submissive ones, but those who really fight back. Feisty bitches yk? But like, he knows you’re all talk because he’ll have you begging for him on your knees once the two of you really get started. ;)

You’re teasing the hell out of Kid. You’re being bad by ignoring Kid and disobeying his orders and the Captain has had enough.

He barges into your room, slamming the door shut with the lock clicking on and before you could react, he has his hand around your throat and your back shoved to the wall.

“You think you’re being funny?” He growls into your ear, instantly using his free hand to rip your clothes off in a swift pull.

Despite the lack of air you had, your face still formed a sly and cheeky smirk in response. “I..I think it’s.. hilarious. Ha.”

Kid scowls before slowly smirking himself and tightened his grip on your neck a little bit more, but not enough to actually kill you. ( he cares after all :> )

“Tch. Looks like you need a punishment.” He drags you over to your bed and shoves you roughly done onto him, unbuckling his pants and pulled the belt out from the loops and pressed the two ends together so he had an able whipping belt. ( make sense? )

You merely grin at this and tilt your head. “Oh? Is that for me?” You hum and sat up, legs up and spread for him to see your already getting wet pussy, arms over you knees.

The sight of it made Kid growl lowly before he walks closer to you. “Time for you to face the consequences of pissing me off.”

With one hand, he forces you down onto the bed, breasts against the mattress and your ass forcefully in the air.

And with the raise of his other hand, it was only seconds before a loud whip was heard.

Tears stings the corner of your eyes but you still held strong, biting your lip. “Is that all you got? Guess you weren’t so angry.” You laugh and Kid didn’t respond, only whipping you once more, a little more force.

“Don’t you worry. I have all night long.”

[ I could write a whole OneShot about this, I had to stop lol ]

-

Marco

Little bit harder, buttt, come on. Sex in the air? Marco’s dream, for sure. And if he’s going to admit it, yes, he has done sexual activities in the air, where no one would be around.

The blonde doctor soars across the sky, a little ways away from the ship, not too far to lose sight but enough where he wouldn’t be seen, regardless of it being the time of night.

He’s only ever done it once or twice, but the no matter how many times Marco would do it again afterwards, the first time experience couldn’t ever be bested.

Sexual activities in the air.

Yet, that didn’t mean Marco didn’t love the thrill and excitement it brought him, especially when he did it so often in his younger days.

Extending his bright cyan blue wings out and around him, Marco palms himself through his pants, shutting his eyes before slightly lowering his pants enough to release his cock into the exposed cold air.

Marco shivers before reeling back and moving so he was laying down, his wings as support. One left propped up and his fingers wrapped itself around his shaft, his touch slow.

With nothing but the moon lighting down on him and the refreshing night breeze in the midnight sky, Marco felt at ease as he continues to rub his length in a teasingly slow motion, only increasing in speed seconds after.

Marco won’t lie, when it came to his release, he often did it into his hands and a bit dripping down onto his hips and chest,

but it felt good letting his cum spurt into the ocean.

-

Thatch

It’s pretty known that Thatch is a real perv with large sexual desires. ( at least to me because of @ honeybakedthatch lol ) however, this personal secret is his dirtiest one yet.

Thatch bit his lip as he grunted out a soft groan, feeling the rest of his warm, bitter cum shooting out from his tip and into the leftover mixture of cream and condensed milk he made for the cinnamon buns.

Pulling his pants up and zipping it tight, Thatch made sure to thoroughly mix the cum and mixture together with a plastic spoon before drizzling it over the cinnamon buns he left out just for you.

The plastered grin Thatch wore merely widens as he watched the ordinary looking cinnamon buns look identical to the others, but he knew the pleasant surprise in taste that differed.

Just as he finished drizzling the cream, the door opened, you having walked in. “Thatch, I smell something good! What is it?”

The cheery, innocent smile you had made Thatch smirk a bit, the imagination all too pleasant, the thought of you eating his delicious cinnamon buns.

“I made cinnamon buns. Here, I made these especially for you.” Thatch holds out the separate plate he had and walks closer to you, placing a sweet kiss on your temple before letting you take the plate and fork.

“Enjoy. If it’s a bit too bitter, let me know and I’ll.. sweeten it up for you.”

-

Mihawk

This stoic ass man is such an intimate, romanticist, he doesn’t quite have very dirty secrets.. but, one kink he secretly has is bondage and slight corruption. He won’t ever mention it but if you bring it up, he’ll voice his opinions on it.

“Now, now, love. You should be careful.”

Mihawk’s strict but amused tone was evident as he sat in his chair and watched you writhe in the tight black silk ribbons that bounded you on the ground.

Your arms were tied behind your back, your vision blocked by a silk blindfold and your legs were forced spread by a ankle bar, exposing your bare heat towards Mihawk.

You were leaning against a table/chair, and the only thing you could hear were Mihawk’s praises and warnings, along with the humming vibration that came from the vibrator strapped to your clit.

“You might loosen the binds, and you know you don’t want that, do you?” Mihawk sternly questions and you shook your head, biting your lip to prevent yourself from moaning out too loud.

“Oh? You aren’t responding?” Mihawk smiles slightly as he leans on his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair. “I asked you a question.”

You gasp out in realization and stammered out, trying to close your legs from the shock and orgasm you keep receiving.

“I-I mean no.. h-hah.. ah.. I, I don’t want it to loosen.” Your blush darkens at the embarrassment you held, but you loved this, just as much as Mihawk did.

-

Shanks

I could come up with a bunch of things but the first thing my mind went to was — sex tapes. Shanks is all for EVERYTHING but I feel like sex tapes seal the deal. Especially since he hooks up with so many women, I’m sure.

Shanks watches as the woman below him arches her back and curls her toes in pure bliss and euphoria.

The loud moans escaping her lips and filling the motel rooms only edged him further.

His tight grip on the woman’s left thigh glides up to grab the soft mound flesh on her left, his fingers twisting the little perky bud as he thrusted his hips roughly into her, eliciting a louder pleasurable cry.

The sound of skin slapping was the only thing heard other than the heavy grunts of Shanks and the mewls of the woman being fucked into oblivion.

Shanks, despite having the time of his life and was nearing his climax as he continued to thrust into the two small and tight lips, it’s walls clenching around him, could only think about the recording camera on its designated position on top of the drawer.

As much as he loved the real experience at the current moment, he couldn’t wait to rewatch the recording of it and relive the experience that way.

-

A/N: here you go, hun! I know you wanted a part 2 with these characters and I hope this went out you expected and wanted! :>

A few don’t have proper endings but it’s gooddd enoughhh for me. :p

jus wondering, what do y’all think Kid has? Master, sir, daddy or captain kink? Or none and just his name?

Law def has a “doc/doctor” kink lol but since I’m at it, I don’t think Marco has that.

[breakyeol]

buzzed

drabble

┗ pairing: baekhyun x reader

warnings: pain :’)

a/n; I’m hurting. you’re hurting. we’re all hurting. this is how I cope. this is also cheesy and gross but I’m in need of a little cheesy and gross rn okay so leave me be. ALSO ik baek is doing public service so he’ll basically be home every night but FOR THE DRAMATICS let’s pretend otherwise.

“Byun Baekhyun, stay still! You’re going to make me mess up!”

“I– I’ve changed my mind! I’m not doing this!” Panic laces his voice as he lurches upwards, desperate to get away from the threatening buzz of the electric razor.

“You have to!” You hiss, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him back into the chair.

His hands fly to his head, protectively covering his head of full brown hair. “I can’t!” He shrieks, staring at you wide eyed through the mirror in front of him.

“You don’t have a choice!”

“But I—”

“No buts! I am shaving your head and that’s final.” You pause, before cocking a mischievous brow. “Unless you’d like me to go get Sehun? I’m sure he’d be just ecstatic to take a razor to your pretty little head.”

Baekhyun grimaces at the mere thought of it, a shiver of fear rippling down his spine at the thought of what kind of damage the maknae would do to his poor hair.

“Fine,” he huffs, defeated, slumping back into the chair, “just… just get it over with.”

A triumphant smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you flick the on switch of the sleek black razor which buzzes to life in your palm. Baekhyun swallows thickly at the horrible sound, hands gripping the armrests so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He takes a sharp breath when the clippers finally make contact, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he can

You work in silence, carefully maneuvering the razor over his head. With each diligent stroke, more and more his thick hair falls, some into his lap, most onto the floor. The tension occupying his body is visible in his stiff, raised shoulders and the incessant bouncing of his legs. Your free hand drops, laying reassuringly across the juncture of his neck as your thumb traces light circles into his warm skin. It seems to help a bit. His legs stop bouncing.

It didn’t take very long. You should’ve expected as much, but it still took you by surprise just how easy it was.

Slowly, you flick off the razor, the room falling silent without its relentless hum.

“Done.” You finally speak, voice was little more than a whisper. Any louder and you’re certain it would shatter like glass in your throat.

Baekhyun doesn’t open his eyes, nor does he release his vice-like grip on the armrests.

“It’s looks horrible… doesn’t it?”

You glance at him in surprise, before sighing. Making your way in front of him, you lean over, placing your hands gently on top of his. Baekhyun flinches slightly at the contact, his head tipping up instinctively.

“Byun Baekhyun,” you hum softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss between his furrowed brows. He exhaled a shaky breath, umber eyes fluttering open to find yours as you drew away, look down at him with nothing but the warmest of affections.

“You couldn’t look horrible if you tried.”

A shy blush rose to his cheeks, and you couldn’t help the smile that broke out across your lips.

“Now, tell me what you think.” You chirped, swinging around to stand behind him once more so that he could see himself in the mirror.

“Oh god. I do look weird, you liar.” He whined, running his fingers through the what little remained of his hair, a familiar pout down turning the corners of his lips.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “You do not.”

“I do.” He insisted, face twisted in distaste.

“You don’t!”

“I do!”

“Okay, yeah, you look a little weird.”

“Yah!”

“Kidding, kidding.” You giggled, dodging his hand as he took a swat at your arm. Huffing, he attempted to shrug you off as you wrapped your arms around his, chest, but you only held on tighter, laughing lightly while he squirmed and kicked up a fuss.

After a bit of playful wrestling, he finally relaxed into your embrace, eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirror. It feels strange seeing himself like this. It makes everything feel way more… real. Enlistment had always been something to worry about in the future. But, now it was actually happening. He had a goddamn buzz cut and within a number of hours he’d be heading off to the training center. Talk about getting backhanded, curb stomped, and kicked in the balls by reality.

“You’ll wait for me?”

The question was unexpected. You cocked a brow, pressing your cheek to the top of his head, the unfamiliar pickling of his freshly buzzed hair rough against your skin.

“Why do you say that like it’s even a question?”

He hesitates. “I just— I know two years is going to feel like a long time. And I know it sounds selfish but I— I don’t think I could take it if you didn’t. I want you to wait for me. Please… wait for me.”

“Two years?” You scoff, propping your chin on his shoulder as you grin at him impishly through the mirror in a way that you hope hides the painful aching of your heart. “Two years is nothing. Two years is going to fly by in the blink of an eye.”

He giggles as you press a playful kiss to his sensitive neck, shoulder jerking at the ticklish sensation.

“For you,” you continue, voice suddenly softening, “two years is worth the wait.”

Baekhyun presses his lips together, eyes suddenly glassy. “You mean that?”

Your heart throbs as his voice breaks.

“Of course.” The steadfast resolution in your voice has a hoarse, tearful laugh breaking from his quivering lips, his hand curling around your wrist and squeezing tightly. You feel your own eyes beginning to burn as he suddenly turns, nuzzling his face into the space just below your jaw. A shuddering breath rushes over your skin and then you feel the first splash of wetness against your shoulder. You rush to cradle the back of his head, gently caressing his warm cheek as he sobs weakly into your neck.

“Why are you crying, Baek?” You barely manage to get the question out without choking up.

“I’m gonna miss you.” He whimpers, hands fisting tightly at the fabric of your top. “I already feel like we’ve lost so much time. How am I gonna go two years without you?”

Clenching your jaw, you swallow down the lump forming in your throat and knock your forehead lightly against his. “I’m not going anywhere. And just think, when you get back, we’ll have all the time in the world to make up for what we lost.”

Baekhyun nods at your comforting words, sniffling noisily.

“Besides, you know what Junmyeon says.”

“Oh god please don’t—” he groans, hands flying to cover his face, already sensing what was coming.

“If you’re happy to wait…” you lean in close to his ear, whispering as airily as you can, “then it’s love.”

“Don’t speak to me ever again.”

You bark out a laugh, taking an immense about of pleasure in the way he glowers at you in disgust. But honestly, you were just glad he wasn’t crying anymore.

“They are wise words spoken by a wise man.” You wink, smiling at him cheekily.

“How about I shove my wise foot up your wise—”

“Hyung!” Both of your heads whip in the direction of the door, surprised to find Sehun peeking his head in, “are you guys done y—” his jaw drops when his eyes land on Baekhyun.

“Oh my god you’re bald.”

The older boy hissed, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. “I’m not bald! It’s just a buzz cut! There’s a difference!”

“Yeah, not much though.”

“You brat—”

A bright smile breaks across your lips at the duo’s familiar, brotherly bickering, warmth blossoming in your chest. At least, you know some thing will never change.

[strawwritesfic]

Brock Rumlow x Female!Former SHIELD Agent!Reader: Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Fried

Summary: All old flames grow cold eventually–Excepting, of course, yours.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (bad language, torture, physical abuse, beating, brainwashing, post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier)

Fic Trade Prompt: “Don’t make my job too easy~ ;)” Plus, I got to pick the character to write for this time around.

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Fried

You awoke with a start in complete darkness with one hell of a headache pounding through your skull. Where you were and how you’d got to wherever that was you didn’t know, but it didn’t feel like you’d come along willingly. A multitude of invisible cuts stung up and down your body; your stomach felt as though it had had its contents punched out of it recently; and maybe you couldn’t see to confirm this, but you were pretty sure your left eye was swollen shut. Worst of all, every cell inside of you felt dry and hot and buzzy, as though you’d spent the evening before playing test subject for a new line of Tasers.

But what had happened mattered very little in comparison to your present predicament. You could catalog injuries once you were definitely safe. It didn’t take long for you to decide that your current location wasn’t that. Straining your ears, you heard nothing. No hum of electricity. No faint whir of a security camera. No chattering from anyone keeping guard. Eerie, you thought, until you decided to stand up…

…and found your arms clamped tightly to a couple of armrests. You had not realized that you were sitting down in an actual chair until you were unable to lift your wrists. Try as you might, no matter what angle you used, the restraints wouldn’t budge. Your ankles were in a similar state. Gritting your teeth, you mentally prepared to dislocate the bones. Nothing you hadn’t done before, but never a pleasant prospect. On the count of three. Three…two–

“Good morning,” came a deep voice from another corner of the room, “sweetheart.”

The sudden appearance of someone in your cell was not what caused you to freeze. No, you only stopped your attempts to get loose because you recognized the voice. You squinted into the dark. Still you could hear no breathing, see nothing further than the pitch black two inches from your nose. But then again, this man should have been a ghost.

“Brock?” you asked, voice raspy. Sounded (and felt) like you’d been smacked in the trachea, too.

A rumble of laughter answered you, but no footsteps. “I don’t go by that name anymore. But it’s good to hear you haven’t forgotten me entirely. Thought you might have, the way you’ve been treating me.”

Those three sentences were all it took to force the shock out of your system and flood it instead with frustration and anger. You clenched your fists into useless balls, rattling your cuffs as you did.

“I haven’t been treating you any way,” you said. “Not since INSIGHT. Not since Hydra.”

You glared in the direction from which Brock’s voice had issued, but still you could see no sign of him. Wherever you were, there were no windows. He had to be there, though; you hadn’t heard him move away or out. Sure enough, when he spoke again, he sounded close by:

“Don’t pretend that you leaving had anything to do with either of those.”

“Oh yeah? And why else would I leave you? Because you’re such a wonderful person, I’d be a fool not to stay?”

This time, the silence that stretched out after your final question lasted long enough for you to start wondering if Brock really was in there with you. He always did know how to stay silent and still–a boon working as the head of STRIKE–but even he had to shift sometimes, even he had to breathe. Maybe he had an intercom rigged up. You tried to hold your breath to listen for him again to no avail. Then you did hear a breath, a long, rattling almost laugh.

“Oh, I don’t know.” A click sounded just before the room was flooded with light. Your eyes snapped shut to avoid the pain that surged through your already throbbing head for what little good that did. “How about this?”

It took you a few seconds to force your eyelids back open. Sure enough, your left would hardly move. Through what remained of your field of vision, you could not see much through the sudden haze of light–not much outside of a dark shape in the corner of the huge room, that was. You blinked, and the figure came into focus: a dark-haired man sitting against a wall of security deposit boxes, and wearing thick, dark armor. As soon as your gaze reached his face, Brock grinned.

“Normally I wear the mask.” He stood, gesturing to a helmet sitting by his feet. It, too, was black, but with a skull blasted across its face in white paint. Then Brock kicked the mask to the side and strode purposely over to where you were clamped to the chair. “But I don’t need to wear it for you. No secrets between us, [Name]. Isn’t that right?”

Up close, you could see his features better even through your damaged eye. However you looked, you definitely looked better than Brock. His face was a twisted mass of reddened flesh. As you took his new appearance in, he drew closer, leering down at you. You shrank away, but all this did was make him chuckle.

“I thought so. Couldn’t stand to be with someone so ugly, could you?”

You swallowed thickly. “I didn’t see that before I left.”

Brock laughed again. “You’re a damn shitty liar. Always have been. You think I didn’t know? You think I was deaf and dumb under all those bandages? You think I had any delusions that my girl would stay by my side after Captain America demolished a building on top of my fucking face?!”

His voice rose in volume and intensity, and with each sentence, he thrust himself further into your personal space. You made yourself stay in place, though your heaving chest betrayed your fears.

“I left because you were working with Hydra, Brock,” you said, willing your voice to stay even. “Because I don’t want to be with a terrorist–”

“Terrorist!” he shouted, and for one blessed moment he stepped away from you. Unfortunately, he was soon back and closer than ever, his nose practically pressed to your own. “I’m a mercenary, sweetheart. I work for the highest bidder, and don’t you go pretending you’re not just the same as me.”

“I’m not like you. I don’t work for Hydra. I don’t work for SHIELD anymore either. I’m doing real work, good work, with the–”

“With the Avengers. Yeah. I heard.”

Despite his claims to have already known about your present employment, Brock appeared put off by the news. He turned away from you, pressed his hand to his mouth, and shook his head. You took advantage of his distraction to again attempt to get at least one hand out of your shackles. Too bad they seemed to be made for someone much, much stronger than you.

And then Brock was back, smiling so widely that his eyes turned to half-moons inside their scarred lids.

“I was good to you, wasn’t I? Brought you flowers, like a good boyfriend. Took you out for dinner. Walked you home from work, cuddled with you at night, bought your goddamn tampons! And what did it get me? What good did any of that do?”

To that you had no proper response. All you could do was stare, captivity momentarily forgotten in the light of the dawning realization that your ex-boyfriend had gone completely insane. Yes, Brock had done all of those things for you, for years. You had been happy with him for all those years. You had thought you’d been lucky to be with the guy that headed STRIKE, one of SHIELD’S golden boys, the most handsome man in the whole organization. All the same:

“I don’t date Nazis,” you snarled.

“Is that what you think I was? A Nazi?” Brock shook his head, but then seemed to drop the subject, his mind wandering as his dark eyes traveled up above your head. “Never let the higher ups take you in, either. Wasn’t like they didn’t want to. Good enough to be an Avenger, Agent [L Name]. Could’ve had you conditioned by someone who knew what they were doing, and we would have never been in this mess.”

“What mess?” you asked, if only to keep Brock talking. A little further, and you thought you might have a chance of dislocating your wrist just enough to slip out of Brock’s restraints.

Brock said nothing.

“Brock,” you said once more, “what mess?”

He seemed to only then remember you were there. His eyes drew slowly down until he was staring right into yours, seemingly oblivious to your desire to get free. “

Tell me you still love me, [Name],” he said, sounding almost normal.

“Excuse me?”

“Tell me you still love me,” he repeated. “Tell me you still love me, and none of this has to happen.”

“None of what has to happen?”

“Just tell me that you’ll take me back! The rest of it doesn’t matter. Just tell me that you still love me!”

You mustered all of your energy, looked Brock dead in the eye, and spat in his disgusting face. He froze.

“The man I fell in love with was just that–a man.,” you said breathlessly. “What are you? Some burnt shell, that’s all that left. Not even enough courage to take me on face to face. You’re pathe–”

One thickly gloved hand shot out viper-fast and put your jaw in a vice grip. Brock’s lips pulled back into a snarl that gave way to another laugh that raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Careful, [Name]. I brought you here to kill you. Don’t make my job too easy.” He winked, a gesture that you did not return. His smile faded as his fingers gripped your chin even tighter. “Either you’re leaving here mine, or you ain’t leaving here at all.”

“And what is that supposed to mean? You’ve been babbling since you got me here. Tell me what your plan is, if you’re so proud of it.”

He considered you for a long moment–too long. Your jaw ached; you could feel his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. At last, he released you, then gestured up to where he had been looking only a few minutes before.

“You’re sittin’ in a real special chair, darling,” he said as your own eyes traveled upward.

Your heart gave a great thud as you realized exactly where you were. You’d seen the Winter Soldier’s files, and unless you could get out of there, you were screwed.

“Brock–”

“See, this here bank’s a front for Hydra,” Brock went on as though he couldn’t hear you. Who knew? He was far gone enough that maybe he couldn’t. “But they dropped it like a hot potato after Rogers fucked over Project INSIGHT. Once upon a time, they used to strap Cap’s old war buddy into this and fry the living daylights out of his skull. Only saw it done a few times myself, but how hard could it be?”

“You wouldn’t.”

His new, predatory smile returned. “Wouldn’t I? How do you know I haven’t already done it? That’s what this setup is for, after all. Memory loss. And I want you back pretty damn bad.”

He had a good point. Your head definitely felt like it had been put through the ringer–but unless a lot more time had passed than your body could account for, you still had all your memories. In fact, you had enough memories to know that you weren’t about to beg this man for your life.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” you said in as dangerous a voice as you could muster.

Brock ignored you, walking over to where a very obvious lever had been installed near your chair. Before you could say anything more, he pulled it, and your chair–Bucky’s chair–shifted slowly backwards. The mechanism above your head jolted to life, then drifted down toward your head. Only then did Brock answer you:

“Who’s gonna come for you? SHIELD? Don’t make me laugh. They know about us. They’ll think you were in on it all along. A Nazi terrorist, just like you said. Always spouting the company line. And the Avengers?” Here he did laugh. “Think they got better things to care about than where you slipped off to in the middle of the night. Never got in the habit of staying in one place too long, did you?”

He was right. He was right, and what was worse, begging was beginning to seem a better and better option the longer the whirring in the chair went on. You rattled your wrists, rattled your ankles, arched your back to strain with all your strength against your bonds, but nothing moved or loosened. Of course it didn’t. This machine was built for a super soldier. What were you compared to Bucky Barnes?

Brock Rumlow’s haunting laugh started up again in nearby. His hand reached out to press your shoulder back hard against the backrest.

“Don’t worry so much, [Name],” he said. “I might not have the finesse to pick and choose what you forget, but it’ll all be over soon either way. When you wake up, we’ll either be back together or–well, you’ll believe that we are when I tell you. I’ve got big plans for us. Real big plans.”

You opened your mouth to retort. How, you didn’t really know–but any possibility of a retort vanished the very next second. All that came out of your lips was a scream as the surge of electricity from HYDRA’s brainwashing device slammed into your head. You opened your mouth again, and let out another scream. Brock chuckled one last time before he gave your shoulder a final squeeze.

“Welcome back to the dream team, [Name],” he said, but Brock Rumlow had vanished from your thoughts. The whole world had vanished from your thoughts. If you weren’t lucky, neither of them were ever coming back. Everything from there on out was pain and order, order and pain.

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #29: Fade In: Katsuki Bakugou

On a late-night movie date, you and Bakugou have the theatre to yourselves. You take advantage. 

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), aged-up characters, overworked pro hero Bakugou, movie theatre (public) sex, lots of dirty talk, Bakugou’s sailor mouth

Notes: Today’s prompt was “Dirty Talk.” The premise is inspired by real-life events that are FAR more innocent than I’m making them sound. 😂  I’m enjoying writing all of these little Bakugou bits! Let me know if you want to see more of our grumpy boi after Kinktober.

Kinktober Masterlist

The city is buzzing with life, even at 10pm on a Tuesday.

You drag Bakugou out of the train station, practically hauling him up the stairs and dashing across the street in the last few seconds of a walk light. A few months ago, you’d have been amazed that he’s even holding your hand in public, but these days he’s quite happy to- even if he pouts the whole time.

It’s a warmer night for the season, so you’ve got on something cute- with a playful little skirt swishing around your bare thighs. You figure there’s no better night to push your comfort zone than one you plan to spend sitting in a dark theatre.

Comfort zone or not, you feel cute. Especially given how many glances you’ve caught Bakugou stealing at your legs.

You’re meeting this late on a weeknight because it’s the only chance that Bakugou actually has to see you. He’s been busting ass night and day at the agency lately, and he’s been pulling weekends for months. You’ve got work in the morning, but you’re so thrilled to actually go out with him you don’t mind.

It’s not like your job is particularly exciting these days, anyway.

You file into the theatre, snag a popcorn to share, and take your seats. You’re the first ones in the theatre, which doesn’t surprise you- this movie’s been out for a while, and it’s not exactly a primetime showing.

Besides, you’re early.

You catch up a little, taking handfuls of buttery popcorn. Bakugou does not like taking on the role of sidekick, but he’s way ahead of the rest of his classmates even landing a job like that at twenty-one. Still, everyone knows that sidekicks are some of the most overworked heroes in the game.

It’s not until the theatre goes dark and the previews start that you realize. Nobody else is coming.

Holy shit.

“Are we seriously the only ones in this theatre right now?” You turn to Bakugou in nervous disbelief. He gives an absent little shrug, reaching for more popcorn.

“I’ll still kick your ass if you start texting halfway through.” He shoots you a wicked smirk, stroking an indulgent palm affectionately over your thigh. You’ve still got goosebumps from the chill outside, but fresh ones race across your skin when he touches you.

It’s been a while. For both of you.

“Be honest.” His voice is gruff in your ear, cutting deeper than the noisy previews that flash across the giant screen. “You wore that skirt for me, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t wear it for anyone,” you chide. You rest your palm on top of his. His fingers curl against your thigh- and yours curl around his.

“So fuckin’ cute,” he growls. He nips at the lobe of your ear and you suppress a gasp. “Looked so naughty, stickin’ out the bottom of your jacket. Like you were walkin’ around the city with nothin’ on.”

“Stop,” you chide, heat rushing to your face. “We’re-“

“What? In public?”

Whatever witty retort you had planned dies in your throat. You’re the only ones in here. It’s dark. The doors are shut. The music is loud.

You’re not sure how long it’s actually been since they needed someone up there in the projection booth, but you’re pretty certain it’s empty.

Bakugou slips an arm around your shoulders and tugs you in close. He nuzzles the spot where your ear meets your jaw, then tilts his chin up and nibbles at the same place.

It’s getting harder to say no to him. Not that you were ever trying very hard to begin with.

You relax into his affections as the previews end and the movie itself rolls. The opening credits begin with a burst of music as you turn your head and surrender yourself to a searing kiss. Bakugou twines his fingers into your hair and tugs gently, tilting your head back for access to the bare column of your throat.

“D’you have… any idea… how long… I’ve been thinking about this,” he gasps into your skin. You try not to whimper. It doesn’t work.

Bakugou’s rough palm slides up the tender skin of your inner thigh. You part your legs just a little, encouraging him. His fingertips brush beneath the hem of your skirt. You’re already damp and heated, ready for him after what feels like a lifetime apart.

You’ve seen each other plenty over the past couple of weeks, but it was always in passing. You’d drop by the agency at lunch (and embarrass the shit out of him in the process), he’d come home to you exhausted on weeknights and pass out seconds after falling into bed. He’s so fucking overworked these days it’s a wonder he’s got any libido left at all.

You’re going to take what you can get.

“Fuck,” he snarls as his mouth trails back to your ear. “You’re wet for me already, sweetness? I knew you were into this kinda shit. So dirty, sweetheart, so fuckin’ naughty.”

“Katsuki,” you plead. He’s running his mouth especially hard tonight. It’s doing more for you than you’d care to admit.

“That’s it, baby,” he continues. “I know it makes you sloppy when I talk to you like this. C’mere, sweetness, lemme take care of you.”

He slips his arm down to your waist and drags you over the armrest into his lap. You don’t fight him, letting your thighs spread across his jeans. Immediately, he anchors one powerful arm around your waist to hold you in place, sliding his other hand between your thighs and pushing your underwear to the side.

“God,” he gasps against your shoulder as he sinks two fingers into your tight heat. “I’ve missed your pussy. I’ve missed fuckin’ you so goddamn much.”  He draws his fingers back and pushes them in again, settling into a slow rhythm. You’re right there with him, rolling your hips smoothly into his touch.

He’s hard already, stiff and excited down one leg of his jeans. You felt it the second he tugged you onto his thighs, and you’re not shy about rubbing yourself against it.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “You want it? You want my cock, right here in the fuckin’ theatre? You do, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you find yourself whining. You never used to be adventurous. Not before Katsuki came along. But he makes you wild.

He lets go of you and you lean forward a little, letting him scoot backwards to fumble with his fly. He unzips, pulling his thick cock out and hiking your skirt up. You feel it, heated and already dripping with precum, against your ass.

With one hand braced on your hip, he lifts you. You tug your underwear out of the way and hold it there. As you sink down on him, he lets his head fall back against the seat with a feral groan.

“God damn, sweetness. Fuck, you’re as fuckin’ tight as ever. So goddamn wet for me. That’s it, ride my fat fucking cock. Shit, you really know how to milk it outta me, don’t you?”

You start to rock your hips atop his, keeping the movements subtle. As you let go of your panties, your skirt flops back down around your thighs, concealing your union. Bakugou keeps one hand braced on your hip while the other roams, tugging your shirt out of the top of your skirt and slipping his palm over your chest.

“Not… gonna last long,” he warns tightly behind you.

“Me neither,” you pant. It’s been too long for both of you.

Bakugou loses patience and lifts you by the hips, planting his feet on the sticky theatre floor and rutting up into you with a sloppy slap slap slap. He pants hard into your shoulder, sucking and biting at your tender skin and growling more filth into your ear.

“That’s better. God, I really needed to fuck you, baby. Look at you. You’re gonna cum so fast on just my cock. You’ve been holdin’ out on me this whole time, huh?”

He’s right. You’re tipping your head back against his shoulder and riding out the waves of pleasure he pumps into you. He knows your body well- he can feel the way your thighs begin to tense and shake as you get ready to cum.

“Fuck, Katsuki… b-baby, I…” Your voice dies in your throat as your peak hits you, tight and silent. You dig your fingers into the fabric armrests on either side of your hips and grip him tight, descending into shivers atop him.

“Jesus Christ, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” Bakugou’s voice is beginning to break, too, but he keeps it down hard and growls softly from the depths of his chest. “Wet little pussy drippin’ out all over me. God, you’re such a mess. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill you up. Gonna put so much cum in your belly, sweetness. Gonna make you so messy for me. Getting so fuckin’ close, baby, oh, shit, oh g-gah…”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence either. He cums hard beneath you, intense and sudden and fast. The wet burst of him inside you is harder than you anticipated but you let him fill you. You let him fuck out the pleasure and you let him collapse, spent, into the plush chair behind him.

His jeans are a mess. Your underwear is, too. Slowly, you work your way off of him and he tucks himself back into his pants. You settle into the pleasant weight of each other. To your immense surprise, nobody finds you. Nobody discovers what you’ve done. You leave the theatre without incident and later, when he takes you home, he fucks you twice more.

The next morning, your coworker slinks eagerly up to you in the break room as you’re grabbing your first cup of bitter office-brew. You didn’t get much rest last night.

“So?” She nudges you, grinning wickedly. “What’d you think?”

“Of what?” You eye her sleepily.

She rolls her eyes. “Duh. The movie. How was it?”

“Oh.” Your brain freezes up. You panic. Think of something to say. Quick. “It was… great. Such a cute ending.”

Quite an answer, considering it was a horror movie she’d recommended yesterday.

[tainted-wine]

Honorable Mention

I heard @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​ SOS signal to all Hizashi fuckers and I have responded accordingly. Sorry for being late to the party!

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: None, except for spoilers for the current arc.

The interview room was warmly furnished in a way to make guests feel at home, not like they were in a professional setting. The beams from the sun were perfectly aimed to make the smiling hero’s face glow. Attractive, and quite distracting. 

It was all going fairly smoothly so far. Hizashi held no animosity toward anyone for missing out on the Top 10 Party. Every question about his personal feelings on the matter was answered with something along the lines of “It’s nothin!”

“Not gonna lie, I’m bummed that I don’t get to wear the steampunk outfit they had planned for me. Have you seen the design? I would’ve had an entire phonograph attached to my neck!” He laughed and slapped the armrest of his plush chair. “But it’s not like I wasn’t there, I was the one announcing the winners. That’s what I do best!”

You nodded as you scan your list of planned questions. “That’s true. Your presence has always been there, especially in the anime.”

“Exactly! Who else is gonna call out new characters and explain their quirks? That role is for me and only me, baby!”

“I agree, but after the work you’ve put in during the War Arc, many of us believe that you deserve more love. Especially after your infamous DJ Punch.”

“Ohohohoo,” Hizashi chuckled lowly at the pleasant memory. “Now there’s something I want! A few more right hooks to that doctor’s jaw. Sometimes screaming just doesn’t cut it, ya know? I’d rather get a little more hands-on, ‘specially when things get...personal.” His expression flashed into something darker, but the mysterious thought appears to leave his mind as quickly as it came.

You ignore it and stay on topic. No need to make this interview heavy or distressing in any way. “It was a very pleasant surprise for us, seeing you get up close and personal like that. I never pegged you as the physical type.”

He shrugged. “I hear that all the time, but come on, what do you guys think I do when I can’t use my super hazardous quirk? Do you think I just stand there and commentate?”

Well, when he puts it like that... “My apologies, I suppose it just never crossed my mind.”

He held up a hand to halt any rising feelings of guilt. “No worries, listener. I don’t mind my reputation as just ‘The Announcer Guy’, it makes things all the more satisfying when I see the shock on a villain’s face after I bust his nose.”

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

Frankly, the interview wasn’t nearly as passionate and bitter as many were definitely hoping it would be, but you didn’t want to antagonize the friendly hero for the public’s entertainment. If the poll results didn’t bother him, then that’s just how it is.

After shaking hands, you both stood up and straightened yourselves out. You uttered a “thanks again” to him before taking your clipboard and pen, but Hizashi speaks up the second you take your first step toward the door.

“Y’know, it’s not that hard to throw a decent punch.”

You turn to him. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. How about a free lesson in exchange for a nice clean interview. I appreciate it!”

That’s...well, you had things to get done, but, “Alright.” Your interest in Present Mic wasn’t just an act put up for the sake of the interview. You're a genuine fan that isn’t going to pass up the opportunity to personally learn something from him.

The hero gently took your things and placed them to the side before taking his place right in front of you. “Okay, go ahead and take a swing at your boy.” His arms opened up, waiting patiently for your attack.

You shifted awkwardly, unsure of the proper way to punch, so you just ball your hand into what you believe is a decent fist and weakly shoot it forward.

A gloved palm stops it before making contact, his grip gentle yet firm. Emerald eyes examine your fist closely — it all has goosebumps forming on your skin for reasons you don’t know. Or at least you don’t think you know. “Not bad! Always make sure your thumb is on the outside and your fingers curl into your palm. Gotta take that impact without damaging your hand. Try again!”

You withdraw your hand and take his advice, positioning your fingers like he told you before launching another strike. He catches it again, this time with a hum of approval. “Ya wanna hit me with your knuckles, not the flat of your fingers. Turn it up and try again!”

You do just that. Another punch, another quick lesson.

Hizashi gets closer than you ever imagined, those talented hands positioning your hips and shoulders at more appropriate angles. “The power comes from your whole body!” He states before motioning for another go.

This isn’t at all how you planned to spend your break after the interview, but you had no complaints even as you exposed your clumsiness to the renowned hero. He was a teacher, after all. You just didn’t expect him to be as proficient at teaching self-defense as he was with English.

“So,” he starts up while casually catching your fists. “How did you personally feel when I punched Dr. Douche in the face?”

The question makes you pause, but a quick gesture from Hizashi urges you to keep going. “I...well, it was admirable.”

More than that. The raw fury emitting from the normally carefree man when he charged Ujiko was...enticing. Exhilarating.

It was hot, alright? It was pretty hot, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“Thanks! Good to know that breaking jaws gets people pumped! I’ve heard a bit of feedback from my dear listeners. Some found it shocking, some found it kinda sexy.”

Well shit.

“I can understand that.” It left your mouth before you could even think. Why the hell did you even comment on that, you idiot?

Hizashi quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “Can you, now? Give me your two cents on it.”

Your stance falters and you almost fall forward during your next swing. You thankfully catch yourself before he can do it for you. That would’ve made matters even more awkward. “That’s—of course, it’s common to find sudden aggression in an otherwise friendly person attractive.”

“Is that what it is? I just gotta do less screaming and beat more faces in so that the ladies will find me hot?”

“Of course not! You’re always—”

You stop yourself.

Whoops.

Hizashi lowered his shades just enough to give you the smuggest look that has ever graced his face. “Always what?”

Shaky stutters and darting eyes are your answer. Desperate to ignore the heat rising in your face, you fire a punch that’s much more powerful than intended.

Even with the added speed and force, he sees it coming and not only catches it, but sends your entire world spinning when he pulls you forward and twists your arm until you’ve completely twirled around with your back pressed against him. It all happened so fast that you didn’t even notice the startled squeak you made.

Your wrist is being held tightly against your lower back. The breath from his chuckle can be felt against your ear which is way too close and you might melt. “Uh-oh, someone just got a hold of you!” He exclaims in a fake panic. “How do you get him off?”

Shut up, brain. That probably isn’t what he meant.

Wanting to escape his grasp before he notices the effect he’s having on you, your free arm whips back with the limited amount of room it has, hoping to knock him back and loosen his grip, only for him to catch your other wrist and wrap your arm around the front of your body.

“Yikes, that didn’t work either!” The bastard had you trapped, his hold getting tighter every time you squirmed. You should probably stop because he’s only getting closer, his chest rising and falling against you at a much slower rate than yours. “Looks like you’re in trouble!”

One minute you were having a professional conversation with Present Mic. The next, he’s giving you a free fighting lesson. And then the next, he has you completely subdued and pressed against him.

And with his voice low enough to make your body shake, he speaks right into your ear again.

“I think you’re pretty hot too, listener.”

[nalgenewhore]

masterlist - ao3 - prologue - next chapter 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The auditorium clapped loudly and Elide could hear her friend’s cheers as she finished her valedictorian speech for the Fenharrow University School of International Relations. She smiled brightly, accepting the gold plaque that the dean held out to her and posing for the photographer. 

Elide waved as she walked off the stage. She didn’t have time to wait for the other announcements - Ress was already trying to hurry her up - but she managed to catch Asterin and Yrene’s eyes, blowing them both a kiss and waving. 

She made a note to ask Lysandra if she could fly them both out over the summer. Elide knew she’d be busy, with the title and the official resignation of her uncle, but hopefully she could sneak a weekend away before the ceremony, which they were both coming for anyway. 

“Miss Lochan, we really–” 

“Ress, I told you to call me Elide,” she reminded the young man, smirking at the way he blushed. He was Aelin’s favourite guard and her most trusted, which was probably why he’d been sent to collect her from university and whisk her back to Perranth. 

Ress cleared his throat, “Of course. Elide, we need to hurry. The plane is waiting.” 

She smiled and followed him through the back halls. Ress led her out to the street, where a black SUV was waiting. He opened the door for her and Elide smiled her thanks, sighing in relief once she was sitting. 

A bag was on the seat next to her. Elide rolled up the partition just as Ress started the car, pulling smoothly away from the curb to the airport. 

She changed into a pair of soft flannel pajama pants and a hoodie from her now alma mater. Then, she rolled down the partition again, leaning forward to rest her forearms against it and her chin on her wrists. “So,” Elide cackled when Ress jumped, spooked by her proximity, “how’s Terrasen?” 

“It’s very good,” he replied, slowing to a stop at a red light. Elide took the opportunity to crawl through to the passenger seat. “Miss Lochan- Elide, stop that! It’s not safe for you to be up here!” 

“Oh, come on! I know you have bulletproof windows and the windshield is too,” she argued, relenting by buckling her seatbelt. Elide continued, adding, “Plus, if someone does shoot at me, you’re closer to throw your body in front of mine to save me.” 

Ress rolled his eyes in jest and the light turned green. “Your logic is impeccable as always, milady.” 

Elide punched his shoulder for that, cursing when her ineffectual blow was met with solid muscle, “Fuck me, you couldn’t be a bit softer for when I punch you?” 

He just laughed and continued driving. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

The plane started to rumble beneath her and Elide gripped the armrest tightly, her long, black acrylics digging into the plush, cream-coloured leather. Despite being a regular flier, she never had gotten used to the sudden lurch in her stomach as the glorified tin can sped up and shot into the sky. 

Landing was easier, but only by a smidgen. 

Elide kept her eyes screwed shut until a soft ding sounded, indicating that they had reached cruising altitudes. She let out a long breath, opening her eyes to look out the window as they flew away from Bellhaven. 

The stewardess came by with tea and a sandwich for both Elide and Ress, who was sitting in the comfortable chair opposite hers. Elide thanked her and started on her tea while Ress practically inhaled his sandwich. 

Elide snorted and handed him hers. When he declined, she insisted, “C’mon. I’m not hungry, we went to the diner to see Sorscha anyway, just take it.” He conceded, obviously making an effort to eat it slower as Elide stirred her tea. 

She watched him curiously and sipped from her tea. 

“Stop staring at me like that,” Ress muttered, his cheeks pinking. 

“I’m not staring at you,” she replied loftily. Elide placed her cup to the side and rested her elbow on her armrest, propping her chin on her fist. “Are you still seeing that boy?” 

Ress choked on a bite of food and coughed. When he finally got his breath back, he shook his head, “Did Aelin say- is the sandwich a bribe?”

Elide gasped, “So there is a boy, I knew it!” 

“Don’t you have preparations to look over,” he shot back at her, eyeing the manila folder on the tray next to her. 

Elide sighed and gave him a dirty look up as she picked up the smooth packet, looking at the shiny seal, her family’s crest staring up at her. Ress took it as his exit and practically fled. Elide called after him, “This isn’t over, Ress!” 

“Oh, yes it is!” he yelled back, collapsing into a seat facing away from her and slinking down so she couldn’t even see his brown-haired head. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide smoothed her hands over her white tweed jacket, fingering the button stamped with a double C. She turned to appraise the matching pants.

Her hair was curled, clipped back and resting over one shoulder. As usual her makeup was done to perfection - she had long since perfected the barely-there look - and Elide decided to finish the look off with a dark black lip that matched the piping of her suit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door, “Elide? Captain says we need to return to our seats.” 

“I’ll be right out,” she called back, testing her ankle. She had gotten the necessary surgeries two months after she turned eighteen and had control over her medical needs. Since the injury and subsequent abuse due to her uncle’s refusal for medical attention, it would never heal to what it once was, but Elide was diligent about her physio-therapy, so she could usually go without her brace unless she was exercising. 

Elide packed her bags up and walked out, stashing them on her carry-on before sliding into her seat and buckling her seatbelt. 

Ress smiled at her, tilting his head to the window, “Welcome home, Duchess of Perranth.” 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Ress half covered her from the press as she walked off the plane and across the tarmac. “Elide, I don’t want you being too open.” 

“I’ll just smile and wave,” she argued, flashing him a blinding smile as she stepped around him and waved, “What’s the point of looking this good if I can’t show off?” 

He grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like Aelin is rubbing off on you. Elide laughed and approached the fence, bending down to accept the bouquet from a little girl dressed to the nines in a tulle dress and a tiara. “Oh, thank you. I love peonies,” Elide said, “and your tiara, it’s beautiful.” 

The little girl beamed, flashing where she was missing her top front teeth, and then ran back to her mother, who shared a warm smile with Elide. 

Elide waved once more and dodged Remelle DuBois, one of the countless entertainment reporters who spent her days chasing down royals and their family members. She had always been too… friendly with Rowan. Remelle wasn’t one for subtlety and was a vocal critic of Aelin’s policies. 

Elide had always doubted it had anything with her cousin’s skills as a competent monarch. 

Ress ushered her away before Remelle could sink her claws into Elide and showed her into yet another SUV, its windows tinted black. 

Elide stayed glued to the window for the entire drive. She always returned to Perranth during her breaks, but that reading week back in February, she had been too busy with midterms and couldn’t find the time to fly out. 

She had missed her home more than she thought possible and drank in the sights as Ress drove through the city. The castle was a short ten minute drive from the city limits and Elide looked excitedly at the landmarks telling her she was getting closer and closer. 

They turned onto a nondescript road. After a minute of thick forest - strategically grown as a natural defence - the rolling green hills of the property came into view. Elide gasped happily at the sight of the soaring towers. 

When Ress parked in the roundabout driveway, Elide didn’t bother waiting for one of the footmen to open her door before she was hopping out. A familiar pair stood at the top of the limestone steps, next to Vernon, who looked at Elide with a slight sneer.

Aelin smiled and managed to contain herself as the majordomo announced, “Her Royal Grace, Elide Amara Lochan of Perranth.” 

There was a short trumpet fanfare played as Elide walked up the steps. She thanked Anneith that it was customary to address the queen and king consort before any other royal. Elide curtsied formally, bowing her head before Aelin and Rowan. 

Their arresting eyes were both filled with mild amusement at the formality of it all. “Welcome home, Elide,” Aelin said, leaning in to kiss both her cheeks and squeeze her hands. In a soft whisper, she said, “I’m so proud of you, my love.” 

Elide mouthed Thank you and turned to Rowan, breaking protocol to throw her arms around his shoulders. The silver-haired man laughed deeply and hugged her back, kissing the top of her head, “Hey, Ellie.” 

“Hi, Ro,” she croaked. They had grown even closer and it wouldn’t be remiss to call Rowan her best friend. Vernon cleared his throat obnoxiously and Rowan reluctantly put her down, never happy to relinquish his protective hold on her around her uncle. 

Elide patted his bicep, telling him she was fine. She dipped her head, internalising her smirk at the indignation on Vernon’s face when she hardly bowed. “Uncle, it’s lovely to see you again.” 

He gave her a slimy smile and Elide visibly stiffened when he grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles, his grip near crushing. “My sentiments exactly, niece.” 

Aelin’s personal assistant, Lysandra, appeared, smiling widely. “Elide, I thought I heard your name.” 

“Hi, Lyss,” she said, hugging the green eyed beauty warmly. “Oh, I missed you.” 

“I missed you,” Lysandra answered before drawing back. “Now that we’ve all said hello, why don’t we move this inside?” 

They all chuckled and followed her as she led them through the front doors, thanking the doormen with a dazzling grin. The moment the doors shut behind them, Aelin squealed and threw herself at Elide, “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you, it’s like it’d kill you to visit your poor cousin - you know how I loathe spending my days with stuffy old men.” 

Elide laughed, “You’re the one who insisted I finish my degree before assuming the title.” Tears pricked her eyes, “I missed you, Ace. You have to tell me what you’ve been up to.” 

Aelin pulled away, looping her arm through Elide’s, “It’s been a busy year. Most of my meetings are about you, you know. It takes a lot to prepare for your–” The blonde was interrupted by a derisive snort, poorly disguised by a cough. Slowly, she turned to face Vernon. “Have a cold, do you?” 

“No, no, I’m quite alright.” He cleared his throat, “I thought I might be more involved with the preparations, that’s all. If I may, how far along are the plans?” 

Elide glanced between her uncle and her cousin, feeling dread settle in the pit of her stomach. 

“...quite far. Why do you ask?” 

“Well, we wouldn’t want to get ahead of ourselves.” 

Elide tugged Aelin along before she could snap back a snarky response, “I think we can discuss this later. I’m rather tired and would like to get settled.” 

Aelin looked ready to fight, but softened after Elide’s pleading look, “Of course. I have a surprise for you, El.” 

The tension eased from her shoulders as their party moved swiftly, leaving Vernon in their wake. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Aelin insisted on keeping Elide’s eyes closed as they moved through the halls. 

Elide was sure her cousin purposefully took her all over, so she had no idea where they had ended up. “Ae, come on, let me see!” 

“Ok, ok, ready?” 

“For the love of the gods, yes!” 

Aelin pulled her hands away and stepped away. Elide exhaled sharply, “This- it’s my parents rooms.” She looked in confusion at Aelin, not understanding what was happening. “Wh-what?” 

Aelin shrugged, “Since you’re about to be the duchess, I thought it might be more appropriate for you to live here instead of your old rooms.” 

Elide reached out, squeezing Aelin’s hand. She hadn’t spent much time in the rooms since her parents died - no one had. Vernon had once mentioned moving in, but after Elide objected by refusing to eat, he relented and they remained empty. “Thank you, love.” 

Aelin beamed, “The pleasure is all mine. Now,” she put a hand on the handle, turning it to the side, “shall we?” 

Nodding, Elide braced herself as Aelin opened the door and she walked in, taking in the entry hall. A flash of black, brown, and white fur shot towards her. 

She managed to keep on her feet as Bear crashed into her, the large pup’s body wiggling uncontrollably in excitement. Elide laughed and kicked off her precarious heels, crouching down to hug her dog. “Hi, Bear, oh, hi, lovie.” 

Bear barked excitedly, her fluffy tail whipping back and forth, coming close to toppling the hall stand and the vase placed there for Elide’s flowers. The house she had rented with Asterin, Sorscha, and Yrene hadn’t allowed pets, so Bear stayed in Orynth with Fleetfoot. 

The fluffy Bernese Mountain dog butted her big head into Elide’s hands, asking for pets. Elide laughed and scratched her floppy ears, “Were they treating you well in the castle? Yeah?” 

Bear growled playfully, nipping at Elide’s hand before moving past her to the door and sitting expectantly. Elide stood and dusted off her pants, chuckling at her eagerness, “Not now, Bear. I just got home!” 

“Speaking of,” Aelin said, patting Bear’s head, “let me show you what I’ve done!” 

Elide faked a groan and let herself be dragged over through the entry hall, noticing the new armchairs placed around the table. She waited excitedly as Aelin dramatically flung the double doors open to her bedroom, “Welcome!” 

Stepping in, Elide took in the opulence of her room. It was painted a pastel mint and cream. She smiled, looking at the large bed in the middle of the room, its wooden frame edged in gold with a diamond-tufted headboard. 

Pillows upon pillows practically overtook the bed, the sheets a neutral white. Aelin stood nervously by the bed, running her hand along the soft throw blanket, “I got the white just in case you wanted to change it, you can. And we can repaint this, too, of course. And–”

“Aelin, really, it’s amazing. I love it,” Elide said, turning to take in the floor-to-ceiling bookcase flanking the fireplace and large, flat screen television. There was a white armchair by the wall of windows, the middle two Elide knew were French doors that opened to the balcony that oversaw the courtyard and the gardens. 

The queen smiled softly and beckoned her over to the closet, “And this is a little birthday present, just from me to you, ok?” 

Elide bit her lip to contain her smile as Aelin opened the door with a flourish, “Ta-da!” 

She walked in, her mouth dropping as she took in the racks of clothes in the walk-in dressing room. There was a full length mirror that lit up when Elide touched it and she gasped, whirling to look at the clothes hanging. “Oh my gods, Aelin.” 

“Wait, wait, wait, let me show you this,” Aelin said, drawing her attention to the island in the middle of the room. She pressed a button and after a slick hiss, drawers popped open, sliding out to display accessories and beautiful jewellery. 

“Oh, Aelin, it’s beautiful,” Elide gushed, most excited about the wall of shoes and purses. She pulled Aelin into another hug, “Thank you for everything, Ace. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” 

Too overcome with emotion to say a word, Aelin just returned the embrace and they stayed there for a while, trapped in the moment. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide sighed calmly as she sipped a glass of wine, holding a tattered paperback in the other hand.

She rested her feet on the opposite lip of the sunken bath, tapping her toes to the rhythm in her head. The bathroom door was nudged open and big paws padded against the marble tiles. Elide smiled, turning to look at Bear as she rested her head on edge of the tub and whined softly. 

Laughing, Elide put her glass and book down. “Have I not paid enough attention to you?” she asked, lovingly stroking her hand over Bear’s head. The dog huffed through her nose, making her eyes big and wide. 

Elide laughed again, leaning over to kiss the top of Bear’s head, “I missed you too, Bear.” She reclined further back as Bear slumped to the floor, her chin resting on her paws. It seemed for the first time in Elide’s life, the future was clear and nothing could ruin that for her.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

an: i hope u liked her 🥺 next chapter is fun ! really really quite fun hehe

@mythicaitt​​ @tinywolfofeyllwe​​ @schmlip-scribble​​ @the-regal-warrior​​ @empire-of-wildfire​​ @ladyverena​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​ @shyvioletcat​​ @alifletcher2012​​​ @tswaney17​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​ e @flora-and-fae​​ @thesirenwashere​​ @queenofxhearts​​ @maastrash​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​ @cursebreaker29​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​ @b00kworm​​ @hizqueen4life​​ @silversprings98​​ @amren-courtofdreams​​ @minaidss​​ @superspiritfestival​ @januarystears​ 

[itzagothamcitysiren]

There’s Only Us Left Now

I wanted to post this over the weekend but we kept having issues with our internet and whenever I had the time to post I had no connection of course :( but here’s chapter two! 

I Had a Dream I Was a Vigilante’s Side Kick pt. 2

           The look on Halley’s face was almost unreadable as she stared down at the boy’s outreached hand. She looked at it before looking back up to him. She was silent and didn’t make any indication of shaking it like he hoped her too. Instead she reached back to unzip her backpack and placing the folder she thought she would have need of inside. She let the bag drop onto one of the two chairs placed in front of the desk before taking a seat in the other.

           Crossing her arms against her chest, Halley eyed the February snowfall off to the side and outside the window. She turned her attention back to this Tim Drake with an expectant look.  The boy’s eyes widened slowly retracting his hand awkwardly. He sat up straight, almost fumbling in his chair as if to make himself appear taller.

           “Right, um-,” He cleared his throat. “Like I said, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been-,”

           “Stalking me?” Halley cocked an eyebrow up, cutting him off. She sank back into her chair and let the venom drip out of her mouth. “Yeah, I noticed.”

           “Only recently,” he mumbled to himself. He’d been tailing her for weeks, waiting for the right moment to finally reveal himself. He caught Halley’s glare at his words and looked at her nervously. It was as if she’d pounce on him at any moment. He cleared his throat again, giving her a defensive smile and placing his hands on the desk, “I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before. Let me start over,”

           “Let me stop you right there Tim Drake.” She waved her hand to break his stumbling. “I can see that you’ve never done this before,” she agreed with him. “I’ve got some questions of my own so I’ll go first and show you how it’s done.” She let her hands grip the armrests, squeezing them to try and keep her mind straight. “Who do you work for? Why are you following me? And tell me about that notebook you had back at the café?”

           “You saw it?” Tim gasped but pulled a straight face on when she shifted. “Right, back to business,” he nodded trying to sound serious. “Well in that order,” he started casually as if he was answering the simplest questions in the world. “I work for myself. I’m following you because 1.) You were the easiest to get too and 2.) You also seemed to be the most approachable but I’m starting to rethink that with the way you’re looking at me-,” Tim trailed off, catching himself as her glare only grew as he rambled off again. He coughed into his fist and sat back again. “And that’s my research notebook. You see I-erm, I know about you and the others.”

           “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” She didn’t know why she was going to try to deny it. She knew he knew. Why else would he go through all this trouble to bring her here? She for sure knew what she saw in that notebook.

           “I won’t say it out loud. I get it; secret identities and all.” Tim promised leaning in and hushing his voice as he spoke.

           “What do you want?” She rolled her eyes begrudgingly; the kid was smarter than she thought apparently. “Money? Revenge?”

           “Oh god no. That would be so obvious.” Tim chuckled, haven’t thinking about how his actions could be interpreted that way. “I want neither of those things.” He held up his hands and gave them a shake. He placed them back on the desk, folding them together. “No, I just want in.”

           “I’m sorry?” Halley squinted at him, “You want what?” Giving her head a shake, she looked as if she didn’t hear him properly.

           “I want in. You know? Like in the family business.” He said leaning in further. He hushed his voice even more as he clarified. “I wanna be like how you were; like Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. I want to be a Robin.”

           Halley let her mouth drop open and stared at the kid speechlessly. She felt her heart pump up and out of her chest and throat. The back of her neck started to sweat and the hairs on it raised. She looked around the room feeling the walls close in as she wished he’d gone to Dick or even Bruce with this. She probed at her ear as if to clear it out.

           “You want to be what?” she asked softly, knowing damn well what he had said but couldn’t stomach it.

           “Robin.” A wide smile appeared on his face as he repeated what Halley really didn’t need to hear again. “Robin; I want to be Robin and I want to work with Batman.”

           It took Halley a couple of moments until she found herself able to respond with words but even then it was just none coherent curses with a couple of questions thrown in. Who the hell was this kid? And who was he to think that he could just follow her around for days and then trick her into this. Who was he to think he could just request to be a Robin? Robin wasn’t something you could just ask for. No, it was something that was fuckin’ earned.

           “Look kid,” she started, standing up from her chair. She towered over him making him shrink back into the chair. “I don’t know what you’re on about but no. You can’t be Robin.” She cut her hand through the hair to get her point across further. “I’m not even the one to make that decision. But I know the guy who is and I know that he would also say no.” She looked down at him baffled. She bit her lip before looking off to the side and continuing. “I don’t know how you found out about us but believe me it’s a waste of information. Take it from me when I tell you it’s not worth it to be a Robin.”

           “Batman needs a Robin!” Tim stood up, raising his voice slightly. He slammed his hands onto the table causing Halley to look up at him. “And he needs you.”

           “No he doesn’t.” She shook her head firmly. She took a step forward, daring him to speak again. She get her voice steady and strict, not raising it like he had, “Batman shouldn’t have a Robin.”  

            “Robin keeps him balanced and grounded,” Tim did dare. “Even the people who are grateful for Batman noticed how he’s more violent and reckless now; for the last two years. Ever since Nightshade and Robin disappeared.” He bit his tongue when Halley looked up at him dangerously for mentioning her and Jason’s former names.

           “Jason Todd didn’t die in a skiing accident did he?” Tim pressed, knowing he was already walking on a very thin line but decided not to back down. “It was something Robin related wasn’t it? That’s why you stopped being Nightshade and why Batman is the way he is now?”

           “Enough,” Halley slammed her own fists down onto the desk like he had but much, much, harder.

           The objects on the desk shook and unsettled the boy. Halley raised a hand to grip the bridge of her and let out a shaky breath. She tried to calm herself having not wanting to elevate the situation any higher. She looked up at him. The notebook she saw days ago caught her eye. He left it placed in front of him. Without hesitation and in a blink of an eye she snatched it up as he let out a cry of protest. She held it tightly in her grasp and out of his.

           “You’re going to drop this,” she pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re never going to seek any of us out again, you hear me? Trust me kid, you have no idea what you’re talking about and need to just drop it.” She said before reaching for her bag.

           She began to head towards the door but stopped with a sigh. Her hand was about to touch the doorknob before she turned around to face him again. She frowned, seeing how his face showed an array of emotions. He looked genuinely defeated. She let her shoulders drop but kept her firm demeanor while at the same time showing some compassion.  

           “You’re right; Jason didn’t die in a skiing accident.” She swallowed hard. “He died because of the Joker. The Joker kidnapped him. He tortured him, made him suffer, and then he killed him.” She said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice but struggled. “That’s what happens when you’re Robin. You’re just a pawn to use against Batman.” She frowned bitterly. “So when I say Batman shouldn’t have a Robin I mean it. Batman should not have a Robin.”

           Halley’s body was in autopilot. She didn’t wait or give a chance for Tim to respond, ending the conversation right then and there. Her feet pulled her out of the room and out of the wing of the building only stopping when she reached the outside of the building. Her movement picked up again after a minute of collecting herself and steadying her ragged breathes.   She aimlessly walked through campus, shaken by the conversation and replaying it over and over in her head. How could such a naïve kid figure out about Bruce Wayne being Batman?

           She thought about it until she found herself in a park that was near the college. She sat down at one of the benches, feeling more than mentally exhausted. She felt a spark of energy when she realized she still held onto the notebook in her hand. Her body was starting to not feel so numb but still felt heavy as she cautiously opened it. She scanned through the sloppy penmanship until she came across the page she caught a glimpse of back at the café. She used it to backtrack through the kid’s train of thoughts until she found out what outed them.

           “Dammit, Dick.” She swore as she let the notebook close.

            Of course the kid had to have seen the Flying Grayson’s years ago. Of course he seen Dick perform the Quadruple Somersault way back when. Of course Dick fuckin’ Grayson was one of the only people in the world able to do the move. And of course Dick fuckin’ Grayson was dumb enough to still perform the move today but as Nightwing.

           Halley brought her thumb to her lips gently gnawing at it in thought. It really wasn’t that hard to put together if she really thought about it. She was honestly surprised that Bruce was able to hide this secret for as long as he did. Once Tim figured out that Dick Grayson was Nightwing it made sense to look to Bruce Wayne who was really the only one rich enough in Gotham to be the masked crusader. Bruce Wayne also happened to have two children, a boy and a girl, who also happened to be around the same age and build of Batman’s Nightshade and Robin. It was quite obvious if you looked past Bruce’s well-acted playboy-billionaire persona.

           “Ugh,” she groaned, letting her head fall back in frustration.  

           She knew she should tell him about this or at least give the information to Alfred. What if this kid didn’t listen to her? What if he somehow got to Bruce? And what if Bruce was foolish enough to actually take him on. She groaned again, knowing that she would have to look into this Tim Drake. She had to figure out why he would want to risk being Robin.

           She stood up from the park bench and instead of heading back to campus headed in towards the city. She remembered the way to her destination like she’d been there yesterday even though it’s been years since she’d actually step foot anywhere near the place. She knew she still had access knowing that even with her hanging up the cape and tights Dick would never restrict her access from his safe house in Gotham.

           She quickly entered the code to get in. Once she was in it lit up showing off the display of extra Nightwing gear and tech. She smiled fondly at them but only for a moment. She had to get to work knowing that Dick would be alerted that she used her code to get in and would probably be calling her within the hour. Cracking her knuckles she started the computer and started her search on Tim Drake.

[seokiloquy]

Bar Stool - Kuroo Tetsurou

AU: Work, Group date, Unconfessed love

Requested

Word Count: 1.6k

“Congratulations.” How long has it been? 

“Don’t lose contact okay?” 5, 6 years?

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Liar.

Kuroo gripped the hairs on his neck tightly, grimacing. He wanted to turn around and leave, it was better than meeting those eyes again, the ones that had stared at him so kindly back then. Across the lounge, he watched her slouched posture relax into her seat. Too late now, he walked to the bar.

On the 12th floor of a corporate building in downtown Tokyo, shrouded in yellow light a woman sat at her desk, typing. Hanging off the end of the wall of her cubicle, the girl’s friend pouted, swinging her weight back and forth. Ignoring her friend’s pestering, she continued to work.

“I don’t want to, Chihiro.”

“Please, (Y/N)? I’ll pay for your food.”

The rapid typing stopped for a moment, “Let me finish this up first.”

Free food had always been a soft spot. Ever since university, she’s had a habit of saving her money and jumping on her friends’ backs for food. Not that they’d feed her half the time anyway. The habit has hindered (Y/N)’s ability to indulge in even the smallest of things but has made her great at (unintentionally) getting people to buy her things. Typically small, like cheap food, but things nonetheless. 

Despite (Y/N)’s agreement, Chihiro didn’t leave, instead choosing to wait, knowing that at the next opportunity (Y/N) would likely run home.

Now here she was, standing in front of a bar, holding Chihiro back by her arm as they watched their other co-worker friends walk in with another group. 

“‘Hangout’, huh?” she said letting her short trimmed nails dig into the skin of her friend’s arm.

“I’m sorry okay? We needed another person to come and I knew you wouldn’t agree if I told you it was a group date.”

“Ya, I know. I have reasons for that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

Having none of it, Chihiro grabbed the woman’s arm, “Nope, you’re coming with me.”

Inside the bar were various tables and a counter for people to get alcohol from. Waiters and waitresses were walking around in white shirts with black dress pants and clean aprons tied around their waists as they held trays of food and drinks above their heads. Above each table was a vintage lightbulb that gave off dull orange light and probably cost more electricity then it was worth. On top of that steal pipe detailing added to the rustic working man’s home feel. It all just screamed, ‘let us take your money.’

Joining their friends at the large table, (Y/N) took the corner seat so that her back was to the rest of the restaurant. In front of her was an empty seat, which eased her mind a bit, but didn’t eliminate the fact that Chihiro said ‘date’, meaning someone was missing. 

Everyone was talking together rather than pairing off into their dates. (Y/N) leaned forward, balancing her weight on her elbows as to properly hear those at the end of the table as they threw comments in her direction. No waiter had come to take their orders yet, not that they expected to immediately, so everyone filled the waiting time with chatter. Stuck in a conversation primarily including Chihiro and her date, (Y/N) relaxed into her chair.

“Sorry, for being late. I couldn’t find a place to park.” 

Sliding into the seat in front of you was a black-haired man who’s hair stuck out in a way that was all too familiar. Her brow furrowed, creating a small crease in the middle of her forehead. He seemed to avoid her eyes as he greeted everyone. (Y/N) squinted, watching the man’s sharp-cornered smile crow on his face. By the time they finally made eye contact, Chihiro turned to her.

“(Y/N) this is-”

“I’m gonna get a drink.”

Chihiro sat back, calling after her friend as she walked to the bar, “We haven’t even eaten yet!”

(Y/N) only waved weekly over her shoulder, not turning around to fully acknowledge the group at the table.

“Hey, Kuroo, what are you going to do when you graduate?”

The boy sat straddling his chair as he rested his head on his crossed arms on Kenma’s desk, who was playing a game on his phone. (Y/N), having asked the question, turned her attention toward the messy-haired third year as she sat at her desk next to their quiet friend.

Kuroo looked at her, a gentle smile set on his face noticing that he had her full attention. “I don’t know yet, not fully anyway just that I want to play volleyball.”

The girl grinned and threw an arm over Kenma’s shoulder, who responded with a grunt and an annoyed huff before looking back at his phone. (Y/N) paid no mind to the glare she received and looked at Kuroo, who was still watching her.

“You’ll invite us to your games then, right?”

Kuroo dug his head into his arms more, which only made his hair worse, and shot a happy chuckle in (Y/N)’s direction.

“Of course,” he said.

Hours had passed. (Y/N) spent her time at the bar, occasionally talking to the barista who was a very strong-looking woman who gave her water after every drink with a sympathetic grin. (Y/N) wasn’t drunk, the water and frustration kept it at bay, but she sure wished that the mild drinks could give her more of a buzz. She kept her back to her friends, only looking back occasionally to make sure none of them were tossing buckets out the open windows. Besides that and the barista, she spent her time alone with a half-empty glass.

The messy-haired -and tipsy- man stayed back at the group’s table talking with his friends and their dates, occasionally refilling his glass when the liquid inside ran out.

“Kuroo,” his friend called out with a swaying laugh, “you might want to go check on your ‘date’.”

The female barista who was keeping (Y/N) company swapped out, leaving her without a sense of motherly protection and company. Proper company, that is. (Y/N) scrunched her shoulders up to her ears, trying to eliminate as much surface area that the touchy drunk man could rest his arms on as he continued to try terrible pickup lines that were likely taken directly off of Wiki-How.

Kuroo wasn’t an idiot, at least he didn’t think himself to be one. He always had a high average in school -even with the drop once he got into university- succeeding mainly in science and business, and always managed to do volleyball on top of that. Kuroo never studied up on social sciences though, give or take a class or two in high school, but anyone could read this situation. 

Read it he did, and he didn’t like what he read.

“So, you want some company?” the man drawled as his fingers messily walked along the marble counter.

(Y/N) flashed the man an irritating grin. “Not at all,” she said mockingly, “I’ve got all the company I need right here.”

Opening her hand out in front of her, (Y/N) flicked her ring and middle fingers upward only for them to be grabbed mid-air from behind her.

“I”m sorry, but you seem to be giving my girlfriend a hard time. I hope you don’t mind if I step in do you? No? Oh good.”

(Y/N), believing she had a handle on the situation, was ready to turn and smack the newcomer upside the head. But when she took notice of Kuroo’s aggravated and slightly flushed face she begrudgingly stood down.

The man willingly backed off, hands raised above his lowered head as he turned for the next girl on his radar.

“Thank you, but I could’ve handled it.”

“But I wanted to step in,” Kuroo said, gently playing with the woman’s hand that he had yet to let go of.

(Y/N) sighed and grabbed her bag, “Come on. You’re drunk. Let’s get you home.”

Holding his hand in hers, (Y/N) dragged Kuroo through the slowly building crowd towards the exit of the bar.

“What about everyone else?” Kuroo asked, swaying on his toes as he walked.

“They can take care of themselves.”

“You’ll take care of Kenma, right?”

“Of course, he’s my best friend.”

Dressed in his traditional black robe, surrounded by students and families alike, the three friends stood on their own. Kuroo held (Y/N)’s hand, squeezing it gently. Kenma watched his older friend with a quirked brow, as (Y/N) laughed at the tall man’s pleas.

“I L-” Kuroo paused looking at the girl’s smaller hand in his, “I’ll miss you.” 

“Pick your head up, won’t you? It’s not like you’ll be far away.”

“Still I-”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“You’re stupid. You know that?”

(Y/N) walked toward Kuroo’s car (which he pointed out for her), swinging his keys on her fingers.

“I know.”

“Glad you decided to admit it. Hop in.”

With the sun now tucked over the horizon, the temperature had dropped but left pretty colours in its wake. (Y/N) turned on the engine and the heater, letting out a small shiver. Kuroo set his elbow on the armrest console and watched as (Y/N) fastened her seatbelt. Noticing the man’s lazy posture, she reached over to buckle him in as well. As she tried to get the two parts together, Kuroo let his head hang low so that his forehead landed on the woman’s shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“I’ve missed you so much (Y/N),” he whispered.

(Y/N) cupped his chin, taking the weight of his head off her shoulder before leaning back into the seat and grabbing the leather wheel.

“I missed you too, Tetsu.”

I don’t have anything to say. - Bacon

Posted: 02/07/2020

[ronniesshoes]

Found another unfinished fic - the infamous The Dungeon which was A Project for years and years and supposed to turn into an entire series. I lost everything but what I’m posting here after my laptop was stolen last year and since I had absolute no interest in rewriting all of it and other projects caught my attention, I figured I might as well post what I have!

Some of you may be familiar with the concept from shewas-agaystripper’s fics but for those who aren’t, John is the dungeon master and the three others his sex slaves. Fun times! It’s explicit to say the least so please, let’s keep it 18+.

I haven’t touched it in years so the writing style may be a bit different from my newer works. Enjoy!

/ / /

"Strip.”

A tremble runs through the Roger’s body, and John lets his tongue dip into his ear, eliciting a soft gasp from the older man.

He steps away from the heated body and watches with patience as Roger fumbles to undo the buckles on his ruby red corset. The smooth leather clings to his slender frame, carving his waist into nearly womanly curves, and delicate lace fits tightly around his straining cock. Strands of blond, ruffled hair stick to his forehead just above the silky fabric of the blindfold. The buckles clink.

The tension is palpable, and no one dares utter a sound. The corset falls to the floor with a small thud, and Roger's hands are shaking.

John licks his lips.

The knickers are carefully peeled off, and Roger lets out a sigh of relief as his cock is released.

"The chair," John barks, startling the Roger. The chains behind him rattle as well, and a curl of a smile appears on his lips.

Freddie appears with the chair, an appreciative smile forming on those sinful lips as he fully takes in the sight of the naked man. He curls a hand around Roger’s upper arm, black-painted nails digging into his bicep, and guides him to the custom-made chair where he is sat down on the narrow seat. His arms are raised above his head and tied to the reclining backrest, and his legs are spread and strapped by the ankles to the armrests. When he is securely fastened, Freddie steps aside to await further orders.

Eyeing his blond boy toy so prettily tied up, John reaches for his whip. He thoughtfully rolls it in his palm for a moment before he lands a hard jab across the blond's chest. Roger's surprised cry and the jerk of his body hardly noticeable proves that Freddie has done his job well, and John nods to himself.

He turns to look at Freddie, "I want lube, the long candles, and another butt plug."

Freddie gives him a coy look that he knows he'll get in trouble for later and asks, voice laced with sensuality and slightly out of breath, "regular or vibrating?"

John studies the man in front of him, and as if feeling his gaze, Roger darts his tongue out to swipe over suddenly dry lips.

"Vibrating."

Freddie is careful to hide his grin before turning away, but John notices the way Roger's breath has quickened, and he decides to have a little fun until his toys arrive.

"You'd beg to be filled with a big fat cock instead if you were allowed to talk, wouldn't you?" he whispers, tracing the inside of Roger's thigh with the tip of his whip.

"Y-yes," Roger whimpers, trying his best to wiggle away from the maddeningly light touch, "oh god yes."

The sound of leather slapping down on skin is loud in the chilly dungeon, and John hears the catch of a breath that doesn't belong to Roger. He grabs a handful of blond locks and forces his head to side. Roger whimpers.

"What did I tell you?" John hisses into his ear, tightening his grip, "one more word and you'll end up next to your curly-haired friend back there."

He knows Roger's eyes are most likely wide and darting, and he briefly considers removing the blindfold, then decides against it, instead biting down on Roger's earlobe. "Understood?"

Roger nods frantically, and John turns away from him to lay eyes on the deliciously naked man chained to the wall.

Brian's lips are parted, his breath coming in quick, hot flares, and a sheen of sweat covers his whole body. His thighs are raw and pink already, his bottom lip split, and his fingers are twitching helplessly. A drop of sweat makes its way down his torso to disappear in dark pubes.

"Doesn't he look beautiful?" John hisses, gesturing to Roger, "all tied up and with his legs spread like the slut he is. See his cock is dripping, begging for someone to touch it?" Brian helplessly bucks his hips up at the words, and John leans closer to whisper, "do you remember the smell of him? The taste of him on your tongue?"

John smiles a wicked smile and bends down to pick up Roger's discarded knickers.

Brian's eyes fall shut.

"Can you be a good boy and moan for Brian?" he addresses Roger before wrapping the lingerie around his straining cock. Roger happily obliges, letting out filthy moans and swears punctured by Brian's name as John jerks him off. A small moan escapes the chained man, and John stops abruptly, ignoring Roger's whine of protest and walks over to him, the now soiled knickers in hand.

"Maybe this will jog your memory," John says, holding the lacy fabric up to Brian’s nose and forcing him to breathe it in. "Don't you wish you were on your knees finishing him off right now?"

Roger's groan from behind him makes him chuckle, and he smears the pre-cum from the knickers over Brian's lips. His tongue darts out to lick it off.

When Brian doesn't reply, John’s eyes harden. "Answer me," he barks, slapping both sides of his face so hard he's sure Brian’s ears are ringing. Brian's mouth falls open, his eyes seemingly unable to focus for a moment. Taking advantage of Brian's daze, John reaches a hand between his spread legs and yanks out his butt plug, making him cry out.

"What was that?" he asks, picking Roger's knickers up from the floor again. "You're wide open, ready to be stuffed full, aren't you?"

"Yes," Brian whimpers, his eyes falling shut as John starts stuffing the knickers up his arse.

"And do you think you deserve this?" John says, stepping back to admire the visual aspect of it, the small piece of lacy lingerie hanging outside of his hole and the metal rings around his balls and the base of his cock.

"Yes," Brian repeats, his breathing hard.

John's hand moves quickly, the whip against his thigh giving a satisfying smack. Brian's eyes snap open, an animal-like growl escaping his mouth, and his body jerks violently, making the chains rattle.

"Again," he hisses, voice rough, "please."

"You're such a pain whore, aren't you?" John taunts, hitting him over and over and leaving red marks on the fair skin. "A plumb bob attached to each of your balls and you'd be in heaven, wouldn't you?"

Brian's back arches, an angry snarl leaving that pretty mouth. John grabs a hold of his face, digging his fingers into his jaw.

"Maybe you've missed these?" He produces a thin, black chain with clamps in either end from his pocket and holds it up for Brian to see.

Brian's cock twitches, and his tongue darts out to swipe over his lips.

John lets go of him and instead brushes his fingers over a perfectly erect nipple. He can feel the quick beat of Brian’s heart when he attaches the chain to his collar, and he enjoys the sight of his throat moving when he swallows hard.

John leans close to Brian’s ear and says in a threatening whisper, "you're playing with fire here, and if you don't start behaving soon, then God knows if you'll ever get to finish. How long has it been since I last let you come? Three days? Three days of watching the other fuck, three days without a single touch." He lets one of the clamps close around Brian's nipple, and the other man lets out a sharp gasp. "Even in your sleep it's always on your mind, isn't it? Tell me what you dream of, with your hands cuffed and no one else around, completely unable to touch yourself. Tell me."

Brian's eyes are dark with arousal, his lips are red and swollen, and sweat-soaked tendrils are plastered to his forehead. His voice is husky when he speaks. "I dream of being bent over and fucked so hard and good I can't walk for days," he says, swallowing thickly, "I dream of sucking cock. I dream of your fist up my ass, Master."

"Very good," John says, rewarding him by attaching the other clamp, "now, do you want to know what I'm gonna do to our little fuck toy over here?"

"Please."

He turns to Freddie who stands patiently with the toys in hand. He picks the butt plug, erotically red and with a beaded shaft, and shows it to Brian. "You see this beauty? Three degrees of intensity and beaded to make sure he's thoroughly entertained."

Brian lets out a longing moan, and Roger swears under his breath. John turns it on and watches with pleasure how Brian attempts to catch his breath.

"I bet you're just dying to know what it feels like," he whispers. Brian whimpers, frantically nodding, and John huffs out a laugh, thoroughly enjoying his helpless state. He's aroused, but not uncomfortably so, and he intends for this to last as long as possible.

"I'm afraid you've behaved too badly," John says, cocking his head to the side like he's sorry, "but I'll let you do something else since you so prettily expressed your need for sucking cock."

He offers the butt plug to Brian's eager mouth, and he can't stop the smile spreading on his lips when his lips wrap around it, his jaw moving as he sucks long and hard.

"That's it, you get it slick and ready for that tight little hole of his," John says, bringing his other hand up to caress Brian's face, "later I’m gonna fuck him 'till he passes out, but first I've prepared a little something for you to watch - can't have you getting bored while you stand here."

Brian moans and grinds back against the brick wall, the rough surface leaving abrasions on his smooth skin.

John chuckles at his obvious desperation and releases the toy from his mouth. "You're so pretty like this," he whispers, tracing a wet line from his navel to his chest with the tip of the plug, "always so calm and collected in public, always in control of yourself. It amuses me to see how you act around others when I know you're not short of begging that pretty mouth off as soon as I tie you up or have you bent over my knees to spank until you're too sore to sit for days."

A whimper escapes Brian, and his cheeks turn beautifully red with shame. John turns his back to him and hands Freddie the butt plug. The dark-haired man kneels between Roger's spread legs, and Roger, sensing his presence, shivers with anticipation. Freddie starts pressing kisses to the inside of Roger’s thigh, and he begs and squirms until Freddie adds his tongue, lapping at his hole before licking his way to his balls. Roger's body jerks suddenly when Freddie starts gently sucking, a loud curse leaving his mouth.

"That's enough," John barks, and Freddie reluctantly removes his mouth. Roger lets out a pitiful whine. "We can't have him coming like this, boy," John says, caressing the back of Freddie's neck, "he knows he's been bad, and he longs for proper punishment. Isn't that right?"

Roger thrusts his hips up as much as is possible in his restraints, and John looks at him with amusement. Freddie opens the bottle and slicks his fingers with lube. He rubs a thumb over the puckered flesh, and Roger groans deep in his throat. The remains are applied to the butt plug, and then pushed in at an agonizing slow pace. Roger throws his head back and bites down on his bottom lip, trying in vain to impale himself further. When the butt plug is fully in, Roger is already panting, beads of perspiration appearing on his flushed skin. With an expectant look on his face, Freddie looks up at John. He nods, and Freddie switches the plug on.

"Fuck," Roger whimpers, his body jerking.

"The candles," John says, and Freddie hands him a long candle the colour of Roger's discarded corset.

He lights it and pushes the backrest further down. When the candle has burned enough for wax to gather and threatening to spill over, he tips it, letting the burning hot liquid drip down the exposed chest. Roger's body visibly tenses, but the wax quickly hardens. While John drips wax down his chest and thighs, leaving pretty red patterns on the smooth skin, Freddie fills a pipette with ice water. He kneels next to him, lips grazing his skin and making goosebumps appear before he drips water over his heated cock. Roger lets out a gasp, but John cuts him short by quickly moving the candle so close to his nipple that the flame is almost touching, tipping the candle and covering his nipple in ruby red liquid.

[the-starlight-writer]

Intro: Tsubame

“Come in.” Kadir walked in, clutching the strap of his backpack nervously. 

“Hello Mr Cordova.” 

“Oh, hey, Kadir!” The literature teacher looked up from the pile of papers on his desk and smiled. He put down his red pen and turned to face his student. “You don’t usually come find me after school, what’s up?”

“I was, uh, I was wondering if you still needed me to tutor someone.”

The teacher’s eyes lit up like fireworks immediately. He almost jumped up from his desk chair in delight but he gripped the armrest tightly instead. “Really?”

“Y-Yeah.”

He rifled through one of the files on his desk. “Let me hook you up then, give me… one second…” He flipped through the pages before landing on one with a triumphant ‘ah ha’. “I’ve got just the person for you.” He snapped the folder shut and beamed up at Kadir. “Her name is Tsubame, she’s in class C and her literature grade is terrible,” he announced with a shudder. Kadir offered a polite smile to try and counteract the dread beginning to course through his body. 

“I’ll send her to you after school today so you guys can get to know each other and make out plans for yourselves; is that alright?” Kadir nodded. “Great. I’ll send her to the library at 3:30.”

Kadir nodded away and excused himself, a little dizzy from the weight of the commitment he made. When the end of school bell rang, he sent Clementine a text to go on without him and made his way to the school library, his sanctuary-turned-workplace. He perched at his favourite desk hidden between the bookcases and waited, playing with the silver ring on his finger.

“Hey, Ms Cadence, do you know if a boy named Kadir is in here? Mr Cordova sent me.”

Kadir peered over at the reception desk and stared at the person searching for him. Their long black hair spilt down their back like a glossy waterfall but he couldn’t catch sight of their face. 

Cadence pointed at him, making gentle eye contact. “Right over there, love.” The person turned and locked eyes with Kadir, cocking their head to the side slightly. The smile that spread across their lips exposed a pair of sharp canines among a row of shiny, straight teeth. Although something inside him shivered at the sight of the fangs, the smile itself was quite cute. She strolled over to him, book bag slung over her shoulder, and plopped down onto the chair in the front of Kadir, hands between spread out legs. 

“Hello.”

Kadir waved. His mouth dried a little but he willed himself to speak. “I-I’m Kadir, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure, I’m Tsubame. I’m a multiple pronoun set kind of person but today I���m using she/her,” she said, pointing to the green badge on her shirt. She placed a booted shoe on the seat. “What should I use to address you, lovely?”

“H-He/him.” He’d never been asked that before. “I’m a boy.”

“You’re a very pretty boy.”

Kadir flushed. “Thank you.”

“So, I was told you’re a smart cookie,” she purred. “I suck at Literature, all the fanciful language is beyond me. You think you could help me?”

“I… can do my best.” 

Tsubame flashed a toothy grin. “I appreciate it.”

Taglist:  @itismakyo @joyful-soul-collector @emberv  @annoyingwritingtrash @gutblood @hollowpaths @dragonstoravens @skyfirewrites @glitterandstarshine @the-moving-finger-writes

[eskalations]

"Hey!" Roy pouted, turning towards them with his daughter still held tightly in his arms. "I'm not useless. If I was, we wouldn't be here in the first place."

Breda groaned, slapping a hand to his face at the innuendo.

Havoc barked a laugh. "I guess we can safely say my boss doesn't shoot blanks!"

A series of oneshots documenting the life and times of the Amestrian First Family.

A/N: It's baby time! I honestly am not as happy with this chapter as I had wanted to be, but I hope that you enjoy it nonetheless!

Thanks for reading!

~

This was the part Roy hated the most – waiting.

While pregnancies were nothing more than a long, nine-month wait – for some reason, the birthing at the end was more excruciating than the months leading up to it. It didn't matter that the entire process took only a few hours, the wait for news – any kind of news – caused Roy's nerves to stand on end and his palms to sweat.

He hated this part. It had already been seven hours and he wasn't sure he could last for very much longer.

Riza had gone into labor early that morning.

Roy was awoken to a firm hand, shaking him awake and breaking him from his sleep. One look into Riza's wide, amber eyes and he knew exactly what she was trying to communicate, even in the dim moonlight of their room. The baby was coming.

He tried not to think of the fact that it was still a month early. The doctor had warned them that Riza would probably not carry to term because of her age. He also tried not to think of all the risks that came along with the birthing process for both mother and baby. Running over every possible scenario in his head would do no good at this point – what was meant to happen, would happen, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Oh, how he hated feeling so useless.

To keep himself from losing his mind, he had taken to pacing around the hospital waiting room. He ignored the strange looks he was getting from the other occupants around him, confused as to what had their Fuhrer in such a state of distress. He could care less what they thought, he was more worried about what was going on behind the doors that lead to the maternity ward.

Both Havoc and Breda eyed him warily as he began another round of pacing. He would walk ten steps forward, turn, ten steps back, pause stare out the window for a good five minutes – and then start all over again. Just like clockwork.

"Boss, this is the reason they wouldn't let you wait back there," Havoc reasoned, his eyes following the man as he passed in front of him. The soldier's hair was mused from sleep, evidence of the rude awakening he had received this morning from his superior. Breda looked much the same. "They can't have you wearing a hole in the floor while Riza does all the work."

Roy was too lost in his thoughts to bother with much of a reply. A grunt was the only response Havoc received as the Fuhrer stopped in front of the window once more, his dark eyes staring out into the streets of Central. Despite the snow that covered the ground, sunlight glinted sharply off the sidewalk. This was a stark reminder of the time that had passed since they had arrived at the hospital. He cursed the nurses who had kicked him out upon arrival, acting as though he had no right to see his wife while she was in this condition.

He was the reason she was in the hospital in the first place, the least he could do was hold her hand and offer some words of comfort. They hadn't even let him do it when she had given birth to Elizabeth, but surely they could make an exception now – or, maybe he could….

"I know that look." Breda commented, watching as his superior's brow furrowed in deep concentration. "Don't you dare start thinking of ways that you can sneak back there. Even the Fuhrer has to follow rules."

…well then never mind.

Roy fixed a dark glare on Breda, who's hands automatically shot up in defense. "Don't shoot the messenger, sir. You know that you would do more harm than good back there."

The man wanted to snap at his subordinates, but he found it hard to do when they both had sacrificed their sleep this morning to brave the wait with him. They had even thrown on their uniforms so they could act as his bodyguards for the time being to keep him from having to be around anyone else. If wasn't true friendship, then he didn't know what was.

It was these thoughts that had him remaining silent, his hands clasped behind his back and his gaze staring out at the passing cars beyond the window. He wasn't going to take out his frustrations on his subordinates when the only one he had to blame was himself. It wasn't their wives who were behind those doors, suffering through childbirth – it was his own.

He found himself wishing that Elizabeth was there – just to distract him from his own mind and to remind him how much good came from the physical pains of labor. However, they had dropped Elizabeth off with Rebecca that morning to wait things out before proceeding to the hospital. A waiting room was no place for a five-year-old child and, if things went south, Roy wanted to keep her as far from the situation as possible.

Riza had been so calm through it all – waiting for him as he ran around the bedroom to gather the things she had prepared for the birth. Through every grimace and pain, she had remained steadfast. Her face never faltered from its determined expression. He knew that she was fearful, he had seen it in the way she had kissed a tearful Elizabeth when they had dropped her off – but he also knew that she was strong. She was on a mission and she would not fail.

Once they had arrived at the hospital, he could see that her expression was wavering as the pains became worse. She had gripped his hand tightly as he kissed her one last time, before being ushered from the room. The last thing he saw was her gentle features falling into a loving smile. She hadn't said the words, but her message was clear – I love you.

Roy crumpled into a chair at the memory, his face falling forward into his hands. While the other occupants of the room continued to stare at their frazzled Fuhrer, Breda and Havoc weren't having it.

"Oh, come on!" Havoc stood, seating himself next to his superior with Breda following suit. The blonde-haired man clapped Roy on the back, pushing the man so far forward that he almost fell from the chair. "I had to go through this four times! If Becky can push out four little hell raisers and still be alright, then Riza can certainly get through this. You have to have faith in our girl!"

Roy glared at the man, shrugging his hand off his back before resting his elbows on his knees once more. His expression was grim.

"Rebecca's pregnancies were not considered high risk, Havoc." Roy reminded him, ignoring the way the man's eyes shone with a hint of worry at the words. While they had all been trying to keep such thoughts out of their minds throughout Riza's pregnancy, it was hard to ignore it now that the birth was here. "This wasn't a normal pregnancy. The doctor could hardly believe that Riza was able to make it as long as she did. Even after she passed all her milestones, the doctor warned us not to get content, since pregnancy was only half the battle."

"I know, sir." Havoc reminded him, his hands dancing at the edge of his pant pockets. If he had still been a smoker, Roy knew that the man would have been reaching for a cigarette about now. Old habits tend to die hard in soldiers. "But I also know Riza and she hasn't lost a battle yet. She wouldn't let something as routine as childbirth take her away from you."

His words certainly carried some truth to them. Riza had been shot, she had been stabbed, and she had been forcibly separated from him – however, no one had ever been able to fully sever the bond they shared. Even now, after they had been married and conceived two children, Roy knew that Riza still saw it as her duty to watch his back. It would probably be that way until the day one of them died.

'Which is not going to be today…' Roy reasoned with himself, his hands turning to fist as he clenched the armrests of the chair. They had made it too far to have it all end here. They had far too much to live for now. They had Elizabeth and they had another little life about to wiggle its way into their hearts.

It could not end here.

Roy was broken from his thoughts by a pair of tiny feet squeaking down the corridor. The three men looked up to see who had just entered the waiting room. Roy was shocked to find his daughter making her way to him, her sandaled feet flying across the tile.

"Daddy!"

Roy, ignoring the looks of surprise around him, dropped to a crouch and opening his arms for the girl. Not even worried about the reason she was here, he scooped her up and held her close to his chest. His heart stuttered as she rested her tiny face against the skin of his neck, her arms locking around his shoulders.

Behind the father and daughter, Rebecca strolled over to her husband and his friend. There was a tired expression on her face – however, it softened as she watched Elizabeth cling tightly to her dad.

"She wouldn't calm down?"

"Nope." Rebecca leaned down to peck Jean on the cheek, her hand raising to rest on his shoulder as she took in the scene before her. "She never fell back asleep and the boys were begging me to bring her here. They're probably all napping now, the lazy bums."

Havoc smiled at his wife, shrugging his shoulders as he rested a hand on top of hers. "We should have learned our lesson by now. She doesn't do well being out of the loop. It's probably better to have her wait here anyways."

Rebecca nodded, tossing her curly, brown hair over her shoulder and sending him a sly smile. "It probably is. Plus, now I can go see if they'll let me into the birthing room."

"I should have known you had an ulterior motive."

"I was here for Elizabeth's birth and Riza has always been there for mine." Rebecca's expression was soft as she thought of her dear friend's steadfast nature. The expression only stuck for a moment before she let out a short laugh. "Besides, I knew her husband would be useless. She doesn't deserve to go through this alone on account of him!"

"Hey!" Roy pouted, turning towards them with his daughter still held tightly in his arms. "I'm not useless. If I was, we wouldn't be here in the first place."

Breda groaned, slapping a hand to his face at the innuendo.

Havoc barked a laugh. "I guess we can safely say my boss doesn't shoot blanks!"

Rebecca glared at her husband while Roy cradled his daughter's head closer to him, in an attempt to cover her ears. Havoc simply rolled his eyes at his boss's dramatics.

Elizabeth, fighting against her father's hold, lifted her face from the crook of his neck and gazed up at his with her big dark eyes. While they were certainly the same color as Roy's, their shape had always more closely resembled Riza's. It made her sad expressions that much harder for the man to bear.

"Daddy?" She asked in her sweet voice, worry evident in the crease of her brow. "Is mama okay?"

"She will be now that you're here." He sat back in his chair, bringing Elizabeth along with him. Once he had her situated on his knee, he smoothed back her dark bangs before drawing her close. "Once Aunt Rebecca goes back, I'm sure everything will start running a whole lot smoother."

Taking that as her cue, Rebecca took her leave and went to speak with one of the nurses behind the reception desk. A few moments later, she was being ushered through the doors of the maternity ward. Roy couldn't help but be jealous.

A small hand tugging at his shirt collar brought his gaze back to his daughter's. Her eyes were still wide with fear. He should have known seeing her mother in pain this morning would make it impossible to shelter the girl from the situation. He had learned his lesson the first time Riza had been in the hospital and his daughter had been near inconsolable until she saw her. He couldn't really blame her, though – he had always hated being kept out of the loop, too.

"Do I get to meet her?" Elizabeth asked, resting her back against Roy's chest as she kicked her legs in front of her. It seemed her distress from earlier had certainly abated in the presence of her father. "My little sister?"

"The baby will be here today." He assured her, though he was still nervous himself. He wasn't going to allow his own anxiety to ruin this moment for his child. "We don't know if it's a boy or a girl, though. It could be a little brother."

Elizabeth scrunched up her nose in distaste. "I want a girl."

"What's wrong with a boy?" Roy asked with good humor, although they had already had this argument many times before. "You know, Daddy's a boy. So are your uncles and cousins."

"Daddy's okay."

"I'm just 'okay'?" He tried his best to look offended, though nothing could stop the small smile that found its way on to his features. Sometimes his daughter said the most amusing things. "I'll remember that the next time you ask for an extra bedtime story or a new doll."

"No, Daddy!" The girl exclaimed worriedly, turning her head to the side so that she could see her father, a look of terror on her face. "You're good."

"Just 'good'?"

Havoc and Breda laughed as they watched the two go back and forth. Both were secretly glad that Rebecca had brought the young girl to wait the birth out with them. Already, the Fuhrer was acting more like himself than he had been all morning. She truly was a good distraction.

Time dragged on as occupants arrived and departed from the room. Every time a nurse would come in to alert another family that a child had been born, Roy would nearly jump from his chair. The only thing stopping him at this point was the fact that he had Elizabeth perched on his knee.

By the time the clock hit thirteen hundred hours, Elizabeth was dozing on her father's shoulder, a small trail of drool staining the fabric of his shoulder. If he hadn't been so worried himself, Roy might have been tempted to nap as well, the events of the morning finally catching up to him – however, his eyes remained glued to the double doors. Beside him, Havoc and Breda were well on their way to joining Elizabeth in dreamland, both men sitting back in their chairs with their heads thrown back and eyes closed.

The room had gotten so quiet that the sound of the doors swinging open and hitting forcibly against the wall had the soldiers standing at attention. Poor Elizabeth was jolted awake by the force of her father standing from his chair. She gave a quiet whine of discomfort before burying her face into his neck and falling easily back to sleep.

Rebecca stood before them, panting heavily from her run down the hall. At the reception desk, the men could see a pair of unimpressed nurses at the sight of such behavior, but the they paid little mind. All of their attention was on the woman who stood in the doorway of the maternity ward. Roy could feel his heart begin to race.

She was smiling.

"The baby's here!"

The announcement had both Havoc and Breda whooping in celebration, while Roy fell back into the chair behind him, his legs feeling as though they had been turned to mush. The sense of relief that rushed through him was enough to knock him off his feet. Elizabeth, as confused as ever, looked at her father with sleepy confusion.

"What's goin on?" She slurred, rubbing her dark eyes with small fists. Affection flooded her father's body as she blinked up at him with curiosity. "Sister?"

Roy laughed, though it came out sounding more like a puff of air. He was far too relieved to do much more than breathe. In a rush of affection, he placed his hand behind his daughter's head and brought her in close, hugging her tightly to him as he wrapped his other arm around her.

"Maybe." He remarked, subconsciously rocking back and forth in his own euphoria. Elizabeth took it in stride and positioned herself so that she could reach both her arms around his neck, returning his embrace. "Mommy had the baby. They're both okay."

Roy could feel the young girl smile against his neck, her dark hair tickling the sensitive skin beneath his chin. Fighting the slight discomfort, he held her closer and buried his nose into the top of her hair, giving her a long kiss right at the top of her forehead.

To say he was grateful was an understatement.

As though he suddenly remembered where he was, the man glanced back up at the three people who were watching the scene quietly. Breda stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a wide grin on his features. Havoc had his hands in his pockets, though when he saw his boss looking up at him, he took one out to send the man a congratulatory thumb up. Rebecca, still panting from her foray down the hall, couldn't hide the beaming grin on her features. Upon seeing his eyes on her, she gestured for him to stand.

Roy didn't have to be told twice.

After giving Elizabeth one last kiss to the forehead, he passed her off to Jean, who held her in his strong arms as her father and Rebecca disappeared behind the double doors of the maternity ward.

A frown appeared on her features.

"Uncle Jean?" The girl asked, her eyes never leaving the doors, even long after they were closed. The man raised a brow at her to acknowledge her question. "Where is Daddy going?"

"To see your mom." Havoc answered, patting the little hand that was resting on his chest. He fell back into his seat while Breda beside him did the same. He thought that was enough to abate Elizabeth's curiosity – however, it appeared the girl thought differently.

"Why can't I go?"

Jean groaned inwardly at the question, knowing that if he answered incorrectly, it could mean a fresh round of tears and a couple of unhappy nurses. Moments like these made him grateful that he and Rebecca had never been able to conceive any little girls. Sure, Elizabeth was cute as a button, but she was one of the most emotional children whom he had ever met.

He hoped for Roy's sake at least that this one was a boy.

He was careful as he thought of an answer, aware that Breda's eyes were on him, begging him to choose his next words carefully. They both knew they were dealing with a ticking time bomb here.

"Because the baby is kind of gross when it comes into the world." Havoc said slowly. It wasn't the greatest excuse, but it wasn't exactly a lie either. His kids had looked like little gremlins upon exiting the womb and they had smelled the part, too. "They're going to get the baby ready to meet you."

Breda nodded, though he looked very unimpressed with Jean's choice of excuse. "He's right. It's kind of like a surprise."

"A surprise?"

"Yep! It's a surprise!" Jean agreed with his friend, bouncing Elizabeth gently on his knee, making her giggle in glee. "You're sibling doesn't know you're coming! You're the only one who knows."

"Because she's been in Mommy's belly?"

"Uh huh."

Elizabeth nodded, seemingly accepting this as an appropriate answer. Both Breda and Havoc heaved sighs of relief, settling back into their chairs to prepare for the wait ahead. Both were so caught up in their own thoughts that they didn't even notice the pensive look that had fallen over Elizabeth's features.

"How did she get in there?"

"Come again?" Breda asked, not quite certain what the young child was asking. Havoc wasn't even paying attention as he watched a small boy and man enter through the doors of the maternity ward with flowers in hand. Although, Elizabeth's next words had him nearly falling out of his chair.

"How did my sister get in Mommy's belly?"

Both men froze in fear. While neither had ever faltered in the face of danger, this situation was completely different. Breda went into a wild coughing fit, as several pairs of alarmed eyes looked on at them from around the waiting room. Havoc tried to ignore the looks.

'Damn kid, you had nearly nine months to ask your parents, why ask NOW?' Jean couldn't help but think to himself as his brain struggled to come up with some kind of answer. He had never had to deal with this with his boys. Sure, they were curious little beings, but it was easier to deter them from topics he did not wish to discuss than it was with Elizabeth. Being the daughter of a sniper and alchemist, the kid had a natural curiosity that was hard to fight against.

Oh, how Jean wished someone had made an attempt on the Fuhrer's life that morning, just so he could have flung himself in front of a bullet. If that had happened, he wouldn't be here now. That was sounding more and more preferable as his mind kept drawing blanks.

"Uh…"

At that very moment, the double doors to the maternity ward burst open wide for the second time in the past hour. The nurses at the reception desk couldn't veil their annoyance now as they glared at the woman who had thrown herself through them. Once again, Rebecca paid them no mind as she made a beeline for her husband.

Havoc thanked the high heavens for Rebecca's notoriously great sense of timing.

Not even acknowledging her husband, the woman grabbed for the child in his arms and hauled her up into her own. The movement had Elizabeth giggling as she held tight to her aunt's slim shoulders.

"Are you ready to go meet the baby?"

Elizabeth cheered, her concept of hospital etiquette non-existent as she squirmed in Rebecca's arms. Ignoring the high-pitched squeals, Havoc couldn't hide his surprise at his wife's words.

"Already?"

Rebecca gave him a gentle smile, her soft brown eyes sparkling. "Riza wants to see her."

Havoc should have known it wouldn't be long before Riza was asking for her daughter. Just as she was forever protective of her husband, her child had fell under that category as well upon her birth. Now she wasn't only Roy's shadow, but Elizabeth's as well. The last time she had been in the hospital, her daughter had been one of the first things she had asked about upon her return to consciousness.

'What a trio,' Havoc thought fondly, as he watched his wife whisk Elizabeth away and through the doors leading to the maternity ward. It was the last time he would be able to think it, now that the family of three had become four.

"Who would have ever thought that the boss would become such a family man?" Breda remarked, leaning back further in his chair. It was as though the man had read the other one's thoughts.

Havoc chuckled, his body sagging in his seat as the events of the morning finally caught up with him.

"I would have definitely lost that bet if you had ever asked me."

~

Elizabeth could barely contain her excitement.

She tried her best not to wiggle in her aunt's arms as they made their way down the hall. They passed several rooms and doctors, the anticipation causing the beating of Elizabeth's heart to pick up rapidly as time went on.

She wanted to see her mommy – and she definitely wanted to see the new baby, too.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to the small child, they reached a room with two military officers stationed outside of it. Elizabeth recognized them as a pair of bodyguards that usually accompanied her and her parents to and from daycare. Once they were in view, the two soldiers snapped to attention as Rebecca knocked on the door quietly, before swinging it open to reveal the scene taking place behind it.

The hospital room was standard, although since it was in the maternity ward, there was no second bed beside that of her mother's. Speaking of her mother, the girl couldn't fight against her urge to squirm once she had set eyes on the woman.

Riza Mustang looked like she had just walked straight through a battlefield. Her usually immaculate, straight blonde hair was drenched in sweat from her efforts over the past few hours. Rebecca, having taken pity on her friend, had pulled the hair back into a loose braid to keep it out of her face. The braid now fell over the right sleeve of her hospital gown and dangerously close to the precious package she had bundled in her arms.

Rebecca set Elizabeth down on her feet, the girl calming once her shoes hit the floor. A slight hesitation rushed over her as she observed her father lean close to her mother and push back the sweaty bangs plastered to her forehead. After he was satisfied with his work, his dark eyes darted down to the baby cradled in it's mother's arms – a loving smile blossoming on his features as he took in the sight.

Elizabeth suddenly felt like an outsider. That was, however, until her mother glanced up and made eye contact with her.

Seeing the five-year-old hesitating in the doorway, Riza smiled tiredly. While the action spoke volumes of the physical exhaustion she was feeling after laboring for most of the morning, the love behind it was just as strong and evident as it usually was when she looked at her child.

"Elizabeth…"

The young girl watched as her mother raised a hand to beckon her near. Although she was being given permission to step forward, by both her mother and her aunt who was pushing against her back gently, she felt frozen in place. This was all so different from the time that her mother had been in the hospital before.

Roy, picking up on his daughter's hesitation, smiled at the girl from his spot on the other side of the bed. While rumpled, the man had never looked more content than now.

With careful steps, so as not to spook her, Roy walked around the hospital bed to retrieve his young daughter. Once he was in front of her, she leaned back a bit, still uncertain of all that was going on – but Roy proceeded. He picked the girl up in his arms and positioned her firmly on his hip.

"Lizzie, don't you want to meet the baby?"

His words were gentle, the man fully aware of the fragile emotions of his daughter. He knew she had been excited about the baby earlier, but he also knew that she tended to draw back into herself when faced with new situations.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rebecca shaking her head at the scene, still so unused to seeing the Fuhrer in such a domestic state. He imagined it surprised everyone, really – but he didn't care.

Elizabeth slowly nodded, eyeing her mother and new baby sibling over the shoulder of her father. From behind, Riza gave her an encouraging smile in an attempt to make her more comfortable. Finally, the girl heaved a sigh of resignation.

"Yes, Daddy."

Holding Elizabeth a little tighter than before, Roy walked back around to the other side of Riza's bed. Husband and wife shared a look over their daughter's head as the girl curiously looked down at the bundle held in her mother's arms. Riza scooted over so that Roy could deposit Elizabeth on the bed beside her. At the action, Elizabeth leaned back closer to her father in an attempt not to jostle her mother. Riza smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging fashion.

"This is your little sister, Elizabeth."

At the words, Elizabeth's dark eyes immediately lit up. A sister! She had been hoping for a sister!

Roy placed a firm hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, smiling down at her as he watched her expression morph from fear to excitement. At the little girl's reaction, Riza's grin grew even bigger. As if sensing the shift in emotions around her, the baby began to fuss in her mother's arms.

Elizabeth frowned at the sound.

"What's wrong with her?" The girl asked in concern as she shifted closer to her mother to get a better look at what was hidden beneath the blankets.

"Nothing's wrong." Riza assured her, pulling back the cloth from the baby's face to give her eldest child a better view of her sister. "I think she knows that you're here."

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide as she got her first glimpse of her baby sister. The face wrapped up in the blankets was delicate with features so small that the young girl could hardly believe they belonged to a baby and not a doll. She was surprised to see that the fuzz that lay on the baby's head was the color of wheat – so very different from her own. The sight had Elizabeth sighing in awe - she was absolutely beautiful.

While she stared at the baby, a small fist made its way out of the swaddle. Seeing this, Elizabeth's eyes widened and her mouth formed a surprised 'o'. Such tiny fingers belonging to a human were a foreign concept to her. The reaction caused Roy to smile.

Using a gentle touch, Roy took one of Elizabeth's hands into his own and brought it close to the baby's fist. There was a slight resistance on Elizabeth's part – however, once the baby's tiny fingers latched on to her sister's, the fight flew out of her. She was entranced.

The family remained silent for several minutes, the only sound in the room coming from that of the machines by Riza's bedside. So caught up in the moment were they, that none of them noticed Rebecca take her leave.

Elizabeth, still holding her sister's hand, looked up curiously at her mother.

"What's her name?"

Riza smiled, cradling the baby close to her chest so that she could use her other hand to gently push back the bangs that lay across her daughter's forehead. After a moment, she looked up at Roy for confirmation, which she received in the form of a firm nod.

"Her name is Mae."

Elizabeth's eyes lit up once more while her voice rose in excitement.

"Like Aunt May!" The girl was giddy as she bounced up on her knees, trying to get closer to the baby. "Wow, she's going to be so excited when she comes to see me!"

Roy and Riza smiled at their daughter's actions, watching as she cooed at her baby sister in abandon. All it had taken was a few minutes to get her to finally warm up.

However, their daughter hadn't been entirely right in her assumption.

"It's not just for your Aunt May." Roy said, his eyes never leaving Riza's as they shared a smile. "It's also for your Uncle Maes."

"Elicia's daddy?" Elizabeth asked for confirmation, turning to her father. Elicia often watched Elizabeth, when Roy and Riza had state business and Rebecca wasn't available. They imagined she had heard many stories of the man in her time spent with the effervescent teen.

"Yes." Roy nodded, patting his daughter on the head. She smiled up at him in return. "You know Uncle Maes and I were good friends and he saved my life more than once. We thought it would be nice to name the baby after him."

"But…" Riza cut in, drawing their daughter's attention back to her. "We also wanted to honor your Aunt May for saving my life all those years ago. Without her, you and your sister wouldn't be here. We figured it would be a nice way to thank her for what she did."

Elizabeth nodded vigorously, agreeing wholly with her parent's judgement.

What the girl didn't know was that they had considered giving her the same name when she had been born several years ago. However, when they had seen her upon her entry to the world, it just hadn't seemed to fit. This baby was a different story, though.

The moment Riza had met the dark eyes of her newborn child, she knew that the name would fit her perfectly. It was almost like an instinct she had received upon her induction into motherhood. Just as Elizabeth was an 'Elizabeth'; Mae was definitely a 'Mae'.

Roy had said the same thing upon his first glimpse of his daughter.

"You're going to have to tell me what position you use to keep getting these girls."

The family of three – now four – looked up from the baby to see Havoc, Breda, and Rebecca standing in the doorway of the room. The comment, of course, had come from the smirking lips of an amused Rebecca who looked at her friend with unconcealed curiosity.

"Rebecca!" Riza exclaimed, her voice still hoarse from birth. The mother raised her hands to cover the innocent ears of her daughter. Rebecca laughed at such a reaction.

"Well, it's another girl for you – eh, boss?"

While Havoc's comment was meant in jest, the smile on his face spoke of different emotions. He was happy for them. He always had been.

"I'm not complaining." Roy glanced down at his family, totally content with the way his life had ended up. "In fact, I've always been told that I have a way with the ladies."

[flamehairedwritings]

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Eleven

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

Everything Inbetween

“Wine, signorina?”

A full glass appeared in front of her before the server had even finished his sentence.

She widened her smile a little as she accepted it, not taking a sip. The server retreated to the periphery of their vision, a lingering, silent presence.

Her gaze returned to Bronte. His men had left him, leaving only him, the armed guard and the server. She wouldn’t have minded the company of the two drunk men now. Bronte gestured to a chair a step away and she moved to sit in it as he seated himself in a chair opposite.

“Forgive me for prying, signorina,” he said as she arranged her skirt with her free hand to give it something to do, her purse in her lap, “but why are you up here and not enjoying yourself with the party?”

“I was looking for the powder room,” she answered, conjuring up a soft, endearingly embarrassed laugh. “I seem to have gotten lost, though.”

“Indeed.” He smiled at her laugh.

There was a pause that his silence forced her to fill.

“I’ve never been in a house as grand as this before, it’s beautiful.”

“Yes, it is.” He blew out a stream of smoke.

A game was being played here.

Her back straight, her features pleasant, her heart pounding, Ada smiled. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Signor Bronte?”

Bronte rested his arms on the armrests of the chair, his head tilting slightly. “When my boys told me two pretty women, a blonde and a redhead, were asking questions about me, I was intrigued.”

She didn’t move, her smile frozen.

He tapped his cigar, ash falling to the ground. “When my boys described this red-haired woman, well, I couldn’t help but find the description familiar.”

Her knuckles were white as she gripped the glass.

“Now, why did I find it so familiar..?” Bronte mused, as if he had just spoken with the boys who served him. He took a drag on his cigar, as if waiting for her to answer the question.

She stared at him.

He blew out a heavy stream of smoke, an easy smile on his lips. “Your uncle likes his tea, doesn’t he, signorina?”

Her chest tightened as she swallowed hard.

“He likes the way my servants make it, especially,” he continued, finally looking away to gaze out at the night sky. “When he told me of his woe and sorrow, I couldn’t not promise to help him reunite with his niece—”

“That’s not going to happen.”

His gaze cut back to her at her sharp words, the smile lingering.

“No?”

What was the use in playing a game when the opponent held all the cards?

“My uncle doesn’t care for me, Signor Bronte.”

Bronte tutted quietly. “Signorina, he cares very much that you are returned and his town is safe.”

A corner of her mouth lifted humourlessly. “Not out of love.”

He laughed. “Love... You know, this word, signorina, nobody does anything for love anymore. We’re all animals, fighting our way to the top.” He tilted his head again, looking almost sympathetic. “I cannot force you, Signorina Timmins—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Oh, do excuse me, Signorina O’Driscoll—”

“Don’t—”

“It doesn’t matter what name you go by, signorina.” All humour had vanished from him now as he leaned closer, his tone low. “What a risk you take being here tonight. You still look the same, still sound the same, I imagine. What a beauty you truly do look, too, better than most of them down there.” He sat back again, shaking his head in gentle awe. “Magnifico. Is that why you have been sneaking around up here, signorina? Avoiding the attention you could so easily gather?”

He smiled as she remained silent.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Signorina Adaline. It wasn’t hard for my boys to follow you and the other woman back to your camp. Then, a simple suggestion to Dutch that I should like to see you, a fresh, pretty—”

“Have you told Dutch?” Dutch hadn’t given any inclination if Bronte had, but he could have been playing his own game.

Bronte waved his hand. “No, no... Not yet.”

She pressed her lips together.

Here it comes.

“What do you want?”

He chuckled. “You are so very bold to be here. What if your uncle were to strike up a conversation with Dutch, what if they are talking together right now as we speak, and they get on a little too well?”

She was too angry to be entirely afraid of what was to come.

"What do you want, Bronte?”

He just looked at her for a moment, smiling, then he reached inside his jacket. She stiffened. All he withdrew, though, was an envelope about the size of the book she’d been reading the morning before. He held it out to her.

“Say you found these while sneaking about.”

She glanced at the envelope. “What are they?”

“You can look inside if you like.”

It was her turn to now just look at him. Then, she reached out, placed her glass down and took the envelope. As he sat back and watched, Ada turned the envelope over and found the seal of the Mayor’s office keeping it closed. 

She paused.

She broke the seal. 

Placing the envelope in her lap, she withdrew two, folded pieces of paper. Opening them out, her gaze flicked up to his, her brow dipping.

“These are sketches of the bank.”

“How observant.”

Her eyes dropped to the papers. Detailed sketches of the interior and exterior of the bank lay before her, a few annotations here and there of improvements to be made. She recognised the handwriting from the documents on the Mayor’s desk.

She looked back up to Bronte. “Why don’t you give these to Dutch yourself?”

“Because I have asked you to. And you cannot return empty-handed, can you? That would be far too suspicious.”

Lowering the papers to her lap, she shook her head slightly, a frown lingering on her features. “Surely you must want something more?”

He held his hands open slightly. “I want you to support Dutch. He needs it. I see a very prosperous relationship regarding Mr. van der Linde. I wouldn’t want anything ruining it.” He gestured towards the papers. “Support him. I know that will be hard for you given your...” His mouth moved slightly, a hint of a smile. “... history, but it is better than the alternative, no?”

“I am not loyal to Colm O’Driscoll.”

He just shrugged, his smile lingering.

Ada looked back down at the papers. She had no choice.

Clearing her throat, she folded the papers and slid them back into the envelope before meeting his gaze. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Magnifico!” Bronte beamed, holding his hands open again. “Really, we can all benefit from this, signorina.” Looking over her shoulder, he nodded at someone she didn’t want to turn to see before looking back to her. “Thank you for your time, Signorina Sawyer, I promise you won’t regret this.”

Smiling tightly, she took her purse and rose as he did, and glanced down at his outstretched hand. Accepting it, her grip was firm as they shook hands.

“Now,” he continued brightly as he released her hand, “you may continue to sneak around up here or even stay here and delight me with your company, or Luca will escort you downstairs and make sure you are not seen.”

“I’ll see myself down, thank you.”

“Of course.” She despised his smile. “Thank you again, Signorina Sawyer. I do hope to see you again soon.”

“Good evening, Signor Bronte.”

Inclining her head, Ada turned and her gaze landed on Luca who Bronte must have nodded at. He smiled as he stepped out of her way.

“Good evening, signorina.”

She returned his smile, lightly.

“Oh, signorina...”

She paused. 

Please just let me go.

Turning back to Bronte, she found his smile still in place as he pulled something out of his trouser pocket.

“Your uncle asked me to give you this...”

Her heart stopped.

The bastard, he had spoken to Nicholas, he had—

Her gaze dropped. A thick, silver ring lay in the centre of his palm.

Her breath caught.

“Take it. He wants you to have it back.” Bronte held his hand further out to her, his smile widening. “A gesture of goodwill.”

“Goodwill...” she breathed out incredulously as her eyes flicked back up to his, swiftly cutting herself off, swiftly stopping herself from giving him anymore satisfaction with her reaction.

Her teeth gritted, she swallowed hard and stepped closer. Reaching out, she took the ring, her hand quickly pulling back.

“He’s a very funny man,” Bronte said brightly as she slid her father’s ring back onto her right, middle finger.

“Yes, he is.” She thought she might have whispered the automatic response, staring at her hand.

Looking up to him again, she smiled tightly.

“Good evening, signor.”

Her walk through the doors and onto the landing was measured, every part of her wanting to run. She felt sick, her entire body cold. Once at the stairs and out of sight, she exhaled a breath and immediately inhaled a deep one, trying to soothe her pounding heart.

That had... How dare he...

She felt furious and helpless.

Ada descended the stairs slowly, one hand running along the wall, the other holding the envelope and her purse.

Just make it down the stairs. Go out the front door. Sit on the steps if you have to. Lenny might have stopped the carriage around the corner—

“Good evening, miss.”

Ada smiled swiftly at the servant who passed, continuing on. Entering the small foyer, she passed someone.

“Hey, where are you goin’?”

She didn’t stop.

Get outside. Breathe.

The front doors were in sight, one open. She quickened. Then, she was outside, the cool air engulfing her. Moving down the stairs, she tilted her head up to the night sky, taking in deep breaths.

Son of a bitch... Jesus Christ...

He had spoken with both of her uncles. Nicholas was here, Colm had been here, God, did that mean he was close now? Why had Bronte met with Colm?

She could feel beads of sweat running down her back, her hands and breath shaking.

Pull yourself together.

She couldn’t return to the men in this state.

Well, at least I have something...

She gripped the envelope a little tighter, staring down at it.

But why? Why, why, why, why, why...

Her mind was humming.

Stop. Stop, stop, stop. Slow down. Breathe.

She inhaled another long, slow breath before she stuffed the envelope into her purse.

She should have stayed and questioned Bronte. She should have asked him outright why the hell he’d been meeting with Colm. That’s what he’d meant about history. Not just alluding to her connection to him. Colm had told him everything, he knew everything about her, including what Dutch had done to her father. She should—

“A lovely night, isn’t it?”

Oh, Christ.

She froze, her already staggered breaths halting.

Her uncle Nicholas was only a short distance behind her, talking to a new group.

He didn’t want to find her, she knew that. Her staying missing would help push his agenda. But if he saw her now... What a show he could put on. She stayed still, staring ahead, trying to even her breathing once more.

The name ‘Albert Fraser’ wandered into her mind, bizarrely. Yes, you could turn around, keeping your face turned away and walk back into the house and try and find him... Who was he again, how was he important? No. She couldn’t go back to the house, what if someone recognised her from the description in the newspaper? She’d been damn lucky so far, but the people here, they had to read the newspapers, they had to know what was going on. Why the hell had she come.

She couldn’t think properly. She didn’t know if she wanted to be sick or faint. This was too much, it was all too much, it—

You’re getting worked up again, breathe, just breathe...

It had been such a long time since she’d been panicked to this extent. She been given plenty of cause to be panicked but anger had overshadowed it or the need to move on to the next thing but now... she just felt helpless. She had no control over anything. That terrified her more than anything.

Her uncle’s voice drifted across the lawn. “... it has been so terribly awful without her, and my sister, too. They were the joys of my life.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. She wasn’t the joy of his life. She wasn’t the joy of anyone’s life. She’d been the joy of her father’s life, he’d told her so, and he was dead, and then she’d been the joy of her brother’s life but he was dead, too, and now after that no one, she’d had to look after others before herself and she was so sick and tired of all of it, she just wanted some peace and to be cared for, she wasn’t too proud to admit it, she wanted someone to look after her, not all the time, just now, just for now, just for now when everything was dark and hopeless and...

Breathe, please just breathe...

Albert Fraser. Do something useful. Turn around and go in.

She didn’t move. She stared at the street, at the horses, carriages, people going by. It occurred to her, then.

I could join them. I could just wander onto the street, find a place to stay for the night, make a plan tomorrow, get away, get away from everyone, no one needs me, they could all live without me, they’ll all just be a memory, a story to tell in a few years time, I could—

“Miss Sawyer!”

Jolting, she turned sharply out of reflex, forgetting her uncle for a moment. She smiled automatically as Dutch emerged from the open door, beaming, Arthur, Hosea and Bill behind him.

Shit...

“Shall we leave?”

“Yes, let’s,” she answered brightly, feeling the same, oddly charged energy that had possessed her for the last few minutes running through her body as she beamed back.

The men descended the stairs, Dutch smiling, Hosea pleased, Bill irritable and Arthur... looking at her.

“Hey, you okay?” he murmured as the others continued on, he and Ada falling behind. “You walked right past me earlier.”

Shit... she’d passed Arthur, because of course she had.

“I was following someone,” she answered, her tone matching his, though a faintly manic smile lingered.

“Who?”

“A servant, that Albert guy. It didn’t lead to anything,” she waved her hand dismissively as they were handed their weapons back, the doorman smiling courteously at each of them in turn.

“Right, so you—”

“Here comes Lenny,” Dutch announced, making them all look ahead.

There he was indeed, pulling the carriage up to the front of the house. Nodding at the doorman, Dutch clapped him on the back before heading to the carriage. Ada kept her breathing steady as they let her step up first, the nervous fluttering inside her lingering.

She sat by the window on the far side, staring out of it as they climbed in.

Please calm down, please just breathe.

The corset didn’t help, restricting every deep breath she tried to take. The door closed and Lenny urged the horses into a walk, turning the carriage around. She stared out of the window still, looking up at the grand house as it came into view. She shouldn’t have come. Why had she, she could’ve just said no—

Her gaze dropped and met that of Nicholas Timmins. 

Her blood went cold. He stared at her, just as frozen as she was, not listening to the elderly woman speaking to him. Then, he was gone, the carriage rolling on and the next house filling her view. She looked ahead, staring at Bill’s waistcoat as he started to grumble.

“I ain’t never felt so awkward in all my life,” he muttered, loosening his bowtie, “All them folk, all so pleased with themselves. High society’s pigeon shit. If you ask me, it’s more like torture.”

She waited for the shouts, for the calls to stop the carriage.

Tutting, Arthur reached inside his jacket and removed a document, handing it to Dutch. “Here’s them papers I took,” he said, leaning back into his seat.

“Anybody see you take this?” Dutch opened the document, glancing over it.

No shouts came.

“Don’t think so.”

“Did anyone else find anything?” she heard herself ask suddenly, looking up and between them.

Bill made an indiscernible sound, looking out of the window.

Hosea, however, nodded, speaking to her, so she assumed they’d all already conferred. “I found somethin’ about a bank that could help us.”

“A bank?” Her eyebrows rose. Fumbling with the opening of her purse, she pulled the envelope out, pausing for a second before holding it out to Dutch. “I found something about a bank, too.”

They all looked at her.

“Really?” Dutch said as he accepted the envelope, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he turned it over and opened it.

“Yeah, I got into the Mayor’s bedroom and found it on the dresser,” she answered, clasping her hands together over her purse.

“Bedroom?” Arthur prompted, an eyebrow arched.

She shrugged her shoulders quickly, shaking her head slightly. “People hide all their personal belongings in the bedroom. And the door was locked.”

“What—”

“Annie...” Her gaze darted to Dutch as he looked up at her, almost in awe.”... this is brilliant. This is exactly what we need.”

For some reason, a reason she would never be able to discern, the manic anxiety suddenly slipped away as they all inched closer and tried to get a look at the bank plans as Dutch lowered them. Her own smile softening, she glanced up and caught Arthur’s gaze. He returned her smile, one corner of his mouth higher than the other.

“Lady and gentlemen,” Dutch chuckled, folding the map away. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

Bill grumbled his agreement as Arthur sighed.

“You can drop us at the edge of town. We gotta get our things from the hotel, and our horses.”

“They keepin’ ‘em for you?” Hosea asked.

“Nah, we had to buy the place for another night, robbin’ bastards. Our things are in our room.”

“Why don’t you stay there?”

All four of them looked at Dutch, Ada’s lips parting.

Excuse me...?

Dutch raised a hand slightly before reaching inside his jacket to retrieve a cigar. “Would be a shame to waste the money.”

Arthur shook his head. “That don’t matter—”

“No, you kids deserve a nice comfortable bed after your work tonight,” Dutch said jovially, a smile pulling at his lips as he placed the cigar between them.

“Sure,” Ada answered in the same moment Arthur said, “Righ’.”

Settling back in their seats as Dutch leaned his head out of the window to call out the plan to Lenny, Ada kept her gaze firmly out of the window.

Right...

Another evening out of camp, wonderful... Another evening alone with Arthur in a confined space where he was probably going to ask more questions...

Right...

—

The men bade them a very warm farewell as they stepped out of the carriage, pleased with what the night had offered, and grateful Bill had found a half-full bottle of champagne on the floor.

Pushing his hands into the pockets of his trousers, Arthur exhaled a breath as he watched the carriage roll away into the night. He felt Ada also release a breath beside him. Something had happened tonight. The look on her face as she’d descended the stairs had made his heart stop; it was the same expression he’d seen the first time he’d taken her into camp and had broken down. He’d wanted to follow after her, but time had been crucial at that damn party and he’d needed to find something. 

He hadn’t known what to do back then, when he’d first met her, but now...

Turning to her, he pulled a hand out of his pocket, lifting it to gently place it on her back. “Ada, I—”

“Why don’t we get a drink?” She flashed him a smile before she’d turned and was gone, disappearing into the loud saloon.

His hand dropped from where it had almost reached her, his teeth gritting.

God damn it, he could have yelled right there and then.

He was tired of enigmas and questions, they were beyond that now, or at least he’d thought they were. Perhaps tonight would be the time to put all the uncertainty to rest, about everything. But... yes, a drink would do.

The saloon was rowdier than the night before, people laughing and talking loudly, drinks overflowing and spilling, and women sat on various men’s laps, an exciting poker game in full-swing.

He followed Ada to the bar, watching her as she leaned over, nearly shouting to be heard by the bartender. She ordered a bottle of whisky and two glasses, glancing up at him expectantly as the bartender placed them on the counter. Tutting quietly, he fished a few coins out of his pocket, dropping them into the other man’s hand.

Taking the bottle and glasses, she turned and surveyed the room. Finding no empty seats, she turned her head to him and said above the noise, “Let’s go upstairs.”

She was heading to the stairs before he could agree.

They had to push their way through the crowd of people, declaring ‘excuse me’ here and there. It was notably emptier on the top floor, a few women and men huddled in corners and on the couches together, though no less quieter as the noise below carried up. Passing them, Ada adjusted the bottle and glasses in her hands so she could retrieve their room key from her purse. Opening the door, she entered, placing the items in her arms down onto the bedside table.

Arthur entered a few moments behind her, glancing at her, then he removed the key from the door and closed it, locking it. He placed the key beside the glasses as she moved to the French doors, pulling the curtains across them and ignoring the waves of a few of the drunken patrons on the balcony. He watched her as she returned to the bedside table, stepping out of her way slightly, and removed the top from the bottle, pouring a good two or three inches into each glass, her purse propped beside them. Holding one out to him, he accepted it from her with a wordless nod, and she lifted her own, turning from him to move to the washbasin.

Sipping the whisky, he watched her as she took a long drink, and saw her grimace, even from this view, before placing the drink down and lifting her hands to her hair, starting to pull pins out.

She seemed... jittery.

Lowering his glass, his tongue gliding over his lips, he moved around the bed to ‘his’ side, setting the glass down on ‘his’ bedside table. Shrugging his jacket off, tossing it onto the couch beside him, he continued to watch her as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. She kept her gaze on the thick curtains, removing pin after pin and dropping them beside the basin. A curl would be released with each one she took, falling about her face and shoulders, dropping down to her waist. The waistcoat joined the jacket as did his bow tie. Sliding his braces off of his shoulders, he then rolled his sleeves up before removing his gun belt and depositing it on the couch.

He finished as she did, her hands shaking her hair out and settling it. She took another sip of whisky and he sat on the couch, leaning back and kicking his shoes off.

Then, she turned to him.

“Well, tonight was interesting.”

“Yes, it was,” he remarked, leaning over to get his glass before settling back again, balancing it on his thigh.

He thought he saw her eyes narrow just a fraction when he didn’t say anymore, but she looked away a moment after, gazing down as she lifted her skirts to toe her blue shoes off.

She continued looking at the floor, her teeth grazing over her lip.

“I think I can beat you on who had the more interesting night.”

She looked at him as she took her glass and sat on the chest at the end of the bed, one leg tucked under herself, her lips twitching wryly.

“I know what you’re doing, being coy and not talking, though maybe you know I know that and that’s the point.”

“We’re spendin’ too much time together,” he answered, his features softening a little.

She exhaled a laugh, though the smile quickly faded. She looked at the glass in her hands, and he knew she was choosing her words.

Jesus Christ, was she actually going to tell him what had rattled her without being prompted?

After a few moments, her eyes met his.

“I spoke with Bronte tonight. Alone.”

He held her gaze, not allowing a reaction just yet. “Okay.”

She shifted slightly. “I was on the upper floor, planning on finding somewhere to hide, and I’d managed to get into the Mayor’s bedroom from his office. I picked the locks.”

Of course she had.

“Someone came into the office, though, and was about to come into the bedroom so I got out of there through the bedroom door and was nearly to the stairs when a man stopped me, then Bronte called out to me, from the balcony.” Her thumb brushed against the glass. “He gave me a glass of wine, invited me to sit with him and then I very quickly realised I was there for a reason.”

Arthur stilled.

She licked her lips before continuing, “Bronte said he’d spoken with my uncle, Nicholas, and had promised to help him find me in any way he could.”

His brow dipped but she carried on, wanting the whole story out.

“He said after hearing my description from my uncle and hearing about me from his boys, from when Sadie and I had been asking questions about him, he’d asked Dutch to bring me along, probably when you, him and John had gone to get Jack. I asked him why he wanted me there and he didn’t really give a reason, but he did want me to... to give those papers with the drawings of the bank to Dutch.”

Arthur’s frown deepened. “What?”

She shrugged slightly. “Those and that I should support Dutch. He said he could see a prosperous future with Dutch and that my support would mean a lot.” She licked her lips again. “He also said... that he knew it would be hard for me to do that.”

“Why?”

Ada took a breath. “He’s met with Colm, Arthur.”

Arthur’s mouth opened as he sat up. “What the hell?”

“I know, I... He didn’t say why, he sprung that on me just as I was leaving. He gave me this, too, from Colm. My Daddy’s ring.” She held her right hand up, showing him the ring.

His gaze flicked to her finger before he shook his head as she dropped her hand. “Why the hell is Bronte meetin’ with Colm and with us?”

“I don’t know... He could be wanting to extend his reach? Want more people and therefore more power on his side? Maybe he’s considering options?” She shrugged, exhaling a long breath. “I don’t know, Arthur, he’s a man I can’t understand.”

“Why didn’t you say you’d spoken with Bronte in the carriage and that he’d given you the papers?”

“Even if I’d said that and lied through my teeth about what we’d spoken about, Dutch would still have wanted to know why Bronte wanted me alone, might even ask him when they meet again. It could have led to too many questions and suspicions.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he murmured before taking a long sip of whisky.

She drained her own glass and swallowed hard with a grimace. Wiping her mouth with her fingers, she raised her eyebrows, her lips twitching.

“I did hear my uncle talking while I was lurking in the bedroom, my Mayor uncle that is. He was doing a very convincing job of being beside himself about my disappearance whilst also pushing his political agenda. He saw me, too.”

He stared at her, but she laughed then, with an air of bewilderment.

“What?”

“He saw me, when we were leaving. I just looked out of the carriage and there he was, looking at me as I was looking at him.” She was smiling and she didn’t know why. “He didn’t even say anything. Didn’t even call out. He doesn’t want me back, I know it, he doesn’t.”

She then laughed again and lay back on the bed, the chest level with it, resting the glass on her stomach as her other hand rubbed at her brow and closed eyes.

“Oh, Lord... Do you ever curse yourself for the times you thought life was difficult when it absolutely wasn’t and you took it all for granted?”

Arthur shifted in his seat. He didn’t know what the fuck to say to any of that. “I don’t know. My life ain’t ever been easy though.”

“Yeah, but I bet you’ve had fun,” she sighed. “I bet you’ve had times where it’s felt like it was worth it.”

He gazed at her. She wasn’t in the right state to talk about her uncles now.

“You sayin’ carryin’ me all the way back to camp wasn’t fun?”

She laughed, her hand sliding from her face to her chest as she turned her head to him, smiling.

“Ah, how could I forget one of my most treasured memories.”

“And shootin’ up that manor?”

“Oh, and then finding out a man dear to my heart had died. Ah, wonderful, wonderful memories...” Her smile lingered as she chuckled.

He arched an eyebrow, her smile infectious even as concern tugged at him. “What about takin’ that ride and killin’ those Raiders?”

She chuckled again. “Mmh, and it was raining...”

And you’d held me...

“Jack’s party was fun, too,” she added, her voice slightly lower.

One corner of his mouth lifted a little higher. “Yes, it was.”

She thought of his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, his tongue stroking...

Dangerous territory, Ada... But that had been so nice...

Pulling her gaze from his, she pushed herself up, inhaling a quick breath.

“Well, those shoes have made my feet hurt,” she announced, sitting upright. “And I could do with another glass.”

Arthur’s gaze lingered on her before he ran his hand down his mouth and stood, draining his glass. “I’ll get it.”

She lifted her glass for him to take as he passed her, dropping her now empty hand into her lap. She heard him pour whisky into their glasses as she winced and shifted.

“Christ...” she muttered, straightening her back as her constricting bodice started to become a little bit too uncomfortable.

Pushing herself up to her feet, she reached her hands behind herself, her head tipping back slightly, and searched for the line of buttons that ran down her spine. Managing to undo a few from the base to the middle of her back, she then arched, trying to reach higher.

Oh, for the love of God...

Huffing out a breath, she dropped her arms and accepted the glass Arthur offered to her, his brow arched.

“Strugglin’?”

“Mmh,” she hummed as she took a sip, swallowing quickly. “The eternal struggle of women.” Exhaling a heavy breath, she placed the glass down by the basin before her, her hands returning to their attempt at the buttons, her head back, her eyes closed. “You men have it so easy. Everything’s within reach and comfortable and easy, and we have to be contortionists and have to have assistance like children and we’re not able to breathe, and we can only eat one tiny thing otherwise the laces will burst and—”

“All right, all right, Jesus Christ, woman...” Setting his own glass down by the basin, Arthur shook his head and placed his hands on her hips, turning her back to him.

Her eyes widened as her head tipped forward and her hands dropped.

“Excuse me, can—”

“For Christ’s sake, don’t start lecturin’ me again.”

He started unhooking the rest of the buttons, pulling just a touch too roughly.

“Will you just be careful, please, this is a beautiful dress—”

“Yes, all righ’...”

Despite his grumbling, he became gentler. She exhaled a breath, her hands going to her hips. The material loosened around her shoulders and chest, prompting her to automatically raise her hand to keep it up against herself. A muffled cheer went up from the saloon below, at the poker game, probably, and she heard Arthur sigh under his breath at it.

Her lips twitched.

Then he reached the last button between her shoulder blades, his finger tips brushing against her skin.

Lord...

She stepped away, nodding.

“Thank you.” Keeping her back to him, she tugged her sleeves down her arms.

He didn’t say anything but she heard him pick his glass up, the floorboards creaking slightly as he moved somewhere. Gripping the dress at her hips, she gently eased it down, Stepping out of it, she swept it up and moved to the couch, carefully laying the dress over it. The floorboards sounded again as Arthur moved, sitting on the chest.

A trumpet sounded from somewhere a few streets over, a slow melody fitting for the time of night.

Does this city ever sleep?

Reaching her hands back once more, she found the ties that, knotted together, held her bodice tight against her body.

Begone, torture.

Pulling on a cord, the knot came undone, and she bent her arms higher to begin loosening the rest.

The floorboards creaked.

“Stop, stop... ‘bout to dislocate your damn shoulders...” Arthur murmured, brushing her hands aside.

He took over as her hands dropped, her lips twitching.

“You’re being very helpful, Mr Morgan.”

“Hate to see a damsel struggle,” he drawled.

She snorted. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, can’t stand it.”

“You hero. Should have asked for a medal from the Mayor.”

“I did. It’s comin’ soon.”

“To Tacitus Kilgore?”

“Nope, Arthur Morgan. I want women to know it’s me lookin’ after them.”

He smiled as she laughed, comfortably able to do so as the corset loosened around her ribcage.

“On behalf of woman-kind, I thank you.”

As he tugged at the last lace, her hand went up to grip the top of the corset to stop it falling and she made to step away.

Gentle hands at her hips held her in place.

Her lips parted as she kept her gaze ahead.

“Arthur...” she breathed, a slight hitch to her tone.

“Jus’... don’t move for a second,” he murmured.

She could feel the warmth of his hands through her thin chemise. It was such a light hold. She could have pulled away if she wanted to.

“You’re in my head, Ada,” he continued after a moment, his voice so low. “I just... I know I said it the other day and I know we also said what we said but... I think about you all the time. I can’t seem to stop.”

She swallowed lightly, her chest rising and falling a little quicker.

“I like hearin’ you laugh and seein’ you happy. I think about when I was kissin’ you—”

She turned, his hands gliding around her, finding her waist. The corset fell in the process, settling at her feet. Lifting her hands, she cupped his face and rose up on her toes to capture his lips in a firm kiss. His arms immediately went tight around her, holding her as his lips moved against hers. Her body instantly reacted to him, desire coursing through her.

God, she’d only had this once but she had missed it. To hell with everything, to all of it. Who gave a fuck. Her tongue slid against his, tasting the whisky they’d shared together, much like the night they’d last and first kissed. Except this time, she wouldn’t allow any interruptions.

Breaking the kiss, her hands dropped to unbutton his shirt, her breathing ragged.

Arthur’s own breathing was rather laboured as he fisted her chemise at her hips, staring down at her.

“Shit, woman, think you could give me a warnin’ next time?” he gravelled, one corner of his mouth rising.

She glanced up at him as her own lips lifted, arching an eyebrow. “You think there’s gonna be a next time? You’re bold, Mr Morgan.”

“Oh, I’m gonna make sure there’s a next time, sweetheart...”

She gasped and her smile widened as he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist.

“Now this seems familiar...” he murmured, his gaze drifting over her.

“I think I’ll need reminding of a few parts,” she whispered as he stepped closer to the bed and placed his knee on it, laying her down. She sank back into the sheets as his body covered hers, holding himself up by resting his forearm above her head.

“Oh, really...”

Ada’s head tipped back as his lips descended upon her neck, her mouth dropping open with a sharp inhale. Christ, he was good, his tongue and teeth grazing over her skin and making her fingers curl into his shirt at his back.

“... remember this?”

His low words against her ear had her biting at her lower lip as she nodded.

“Vaguely...”

She felt his smile, before his arm was sliding under her, pulling her close against him as he trailed warm, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. She just about managed to suppress a moan, pulling at his shirt slightly as her eyes closed. Every inch of her skin was yearning for his touch, needed his touch to ground her, to stop her mind from spinning. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she slid her hand into his half-open shirt, gripping his shoulder, as her other pulled his shirt out of his trousers.

“Now, I don’t remember this...” His lips grazed against her jaw as he lifted his head to arch an eyebrow at her. Then he saw the fire in her eyes.

“Touch me,” she murmured, her hands now at his shirt buttons, finishing what she had started.

He didn’t need telling twice. Dipping his head, his mouth went to her chest, the neckline of her chemise low, baring the tops of her breasts. He kissed at the soft skin there, feeling her quick breaths.

Her nipples had hardened, visible through her chemise, and he lowered his mouth to one, wetting the material and gently pulling at the sensitive peak with his lips. The moan that escaped her was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He sucked and licked at her nipple, wanting to draw more sounds from her and she didn’t disappoint, one hand suddenly in his hair, gripping and holding him in place as she moaned.

He moved his attention to her other nipple, tugging at it with his teeth as his hand moved from above her to pinch and roll her wet nipple with his fingers.

“Oh my God...” he heard her breathe as she tipped her head back, her back arching.

Heat pooled in her lower stomach, spreading down, and she desperately needed relief. Lifting her hips, she rocked them once against his thigh, and he answered with a groan. She liked that. Angling her hips, she rolled them again, and brushed against his straining erection. His mouth paused in its ministrations as his fingers pressed into her side, another, rougher, groan escaping him. She liked that very much, so she did it again, then again, picking up a slow rhythm.

From the sound of his following groans, his teeth were gritted, and he pressed his forehead against her chest. When, after a few moments, she felt his own hips start to move, she slid her hand down between their bodies and brushed her fingers down him.

He grunted and pulled his hips back suddenly.

“Wait, wait, Ada...” Pushing himself up with one hand, he gazed down at her, his other arm still resting under her, cradling her.

She blinked a few times as she focused on him, wetting her lips. “Sorry, was that not, was I not supposed to do that?”

He shook his head slightly as he tried to find the right words. “No, no, that ain’t it, I... We just can’t... I don’t think we should go the, ah, the whole way.”

She gazed at him, her eyes searching his, and the fire in her eyes started to dim. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I just got—”

“Nah, don’t apologise, sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along her lower lip. “I just... don’t think it’s right.”

She arched an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “You waiting until marriage?”

Or for Mary.

He snorted, his hand returning to settle beside her. “Nah, just...”

When he couldn’t find the words after a few moments, she lifted her hand and cupped his jaw, making her smile widen a little more. “It’s okay... It’s quite sensible, actually.”

He scoffed, his eyebrows raising. “That’s somethin’ I ain’t ever been called.”

“What an interesting night indeed.”

Arthur exhaled a laugh before pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to her lips, feeling her body instantly press closer to his.

Christ, woman...

Pulling back, he carefully pulled his arm out from under her and pushed off the bed, standing at the end of it.

“You want another drink?” he asked as he straightened, running a hand through his hair, gazing down at her.

Oh, Jesus...

She looked absolutely beautiful. Her curls were splayed out around her head, her skin was flushed, her chemise was pulled down, keeping the curves of her breasts visible to his appreciative gaze, and she was smiling.

“Yes, please.”

Nodding, he pulled the glass from the dresser and, deciding it did indeed need topping up, rounded the bed to the table. 

Ada stared at him. He was waiting for Mary. Or marriage. Or marriage to Mary. Either way... fine. She didn’t want anything serious. Neither did he most likely... But what was stopping them from just... living in the moment? If he really, truly didn’t want this then he wouldn’t have kissed her, wouldn’t have kissed at her nipples... He might not want her, exactly, but she could live with that. She would live with that.

As he removed the stopper from the bottle, he heard her clear her throat, the sheets rustling as she sat up.

“I’ve heard there are... other things a man and woman can do to pleasure each other.”

He paused, the rim of the bottle knocking against the glass. Then he looked at her, her hands clasped in her lap.

“Is that right.”

“Yes.”

For all that she looked slightly nervous, she lifted her chin as she held his gaze. He set the glass and bottle down.

“What kind of things?”

She wet her lips. “Things that... just involve hands... and mouths.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

She watched him as he pulled his shirt off, tossing it aside. She’d seen his bare chest before but even still she couldn’t stop her gaze from quickly travelling across his torso. Her breathing then hitched as he nodded a few times, moving back to the end of the bed, his arms folded.

“And what kind of things could I do with my hands and mouth to you?”

She was too drunk on desire and need to call him out for being the bastard that he was.

She wet her lips again. “Well... You could kiss my breasts like you were doing or you could... you could...”

He’d moved onto the bed as she spoke, leaning over her, his lips inches from hers. Lowering his hand as she trailed off, he moved it under her chemise and brushed his fingers against the seam of her drawers, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

“Touch you here?” he murmured, stroking her again, and her back straightened as a low moan sounded from the back of her throat, her hand going to his bicep. Exhaling a breath, he pressed his fingers against her and her eyes closed. “Christ... You’re wet, sweetheart...”

She could only hum in response, her nails digging into him as he continued to stroke her through her wet drawers.

“Has anyone else ever touched you like this before?” he murmured, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Her tongue darted out over her lips as she shook her head, opening her eyes after a moment to meet his gaze.

“No,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed. “Only me.”

“And how do you like to touch yourself?”

“Arthur...” she muttered, her cheeks flushing.

“No, I ain’t sayin’ it to embarrass you, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his hand pausing. “I just wanna make it good for you.”

He was seconds away from grumbling at her features softening, when she cupped his face and pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his. He groaned as her tongue traced along the seam of his mouth, gently asking for entrance which he gladly gave. As her tongue dipped into his mouth he slid an arm around her and guided her onto her back, her head resting on the pillows. He would have been more than happy to spend the rest of the night just teasing and kissing her plump lips when he felt her hands leave his face and her body shift under his as she lifted the hem of her chemise a few inches and began to push her drawers down.

He helped her, carefully tugging them down with one hand until she kicked them off, then her hand was on his.

“I like it gentle,” she murmured so quietly against his lips as she slid his hand under her chemise and he touched the wet lips of her cunt.

Her hips bucked slightly as she inhaled a sharp breath and the kiss paused, both of them just focused on the feeling. His middle finger slowly slid up her slit, gathering her wetness, and she made a sound akin to a keen as he circled that bundle of nerves that seemed to serve no other purpose than to give pleasure.

Arthur could do gentle. He could do slow. He could do both until the end of days if it meant he got to watch her like this; her head tipped back, one hand on his forearm, the other his shoulder, her lips parted, her breaths ragged. His only qualm was that he wanted to give more. Drawing his arm out from under her, he caressed her hip as he ran two fingers up and down her slit, taking the time every time to rub the spot that prompted the loudest moans from her. Lowering his head, he then began to trail kisses down the curve of her soft, round stomach, moving down as he went until he was settled between her spread legs.

Ada eyes snapped open, her gaze darting down, and she made an involuntary moan at the sight of him.

Oh, sweet Lord...

A corner of his mouth lifted as their eyes locked and she didn’t think she could breathe for a moment. Then his tongue swept up her folds.

“Oh holy God...” The curse tumbled from her lips before she could stop it, her eyes widening as her stomach muscles tightened.

His low, answering chuckle made her hips buck, and his hands circled under her thighs to settle on her stomach, holding her down. He traced his tongue along her pussy, dragging another moaned curse from her.

“This what you heard about, sweetheart?” he murmured, his deep voice vibrating against her so deliciously.

“Didn’t, hmh... didn’t know it would be this good...” she breathed, her hands moving from her shoulders to her stomach, to the bedsheets, unsure of what to do with them.

She then gripped at the sheets as his tongue lapped at her cunt in long, rhythmic strokes. Her teeth instinctively sank into her lower lip to muffle her loud moans as her eyes closed.

“... I want to hear you...”

God, his voice. Had he always had such a delectable voice? Had she just not noticed or had she not wanted to? And those words...

“... Get out of your head... Lemme hear you...”

A moan from the back of her throat sounded. She felt his fingers press into her skin slightly and his tongue started to move a little faster. Releasing a long breath, she didn’t care that it sounded like a whine. The feel of his stubble rubbing against her skin didn’t even bother her, she liked it.

Then he sucked at the sensitive bud. Crying out, she couldn’t stop her hand from moving to his head, her fingers gripping at his hair. He groaned at that, sucking a little harder before he licked at her again, alternating his ministrations that had her mewling and rolling her hips up.

His gaze flicked up to her. Christ, if he thought she looked good before... Shifting slightly, he moved a hand from her stomach to her folds and slid a finger inside her. Jesus Christ, she was warm and wet and tight and... Fuck... The gasp she gave and the tightening of her slick walls around him had his already straining cock begging for relief.

He moved his finger, slowly fucking her with it. Both of her hands were on his head now, her fingers twisting into his hair and, hell, even that felt good. He could feel her hips jerking under his arm which he’d now lain across her stomach, wanting to buck and writhe. She was so wet he could easily slip a second finger inside her, moving them as one.

Jesus, what would it feel like to slide his cock into her, to fuck her and have her wet around him—

No, no, he couldn’t do that, shouldn’t even torment himself thinking about that. This was enough.

“Arthur...”

Her moan of his name, it never sounding so sweet, had him looking up again, meeting her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed and her breaths were ragged; she was close, and he wanted nothing more than to see her tumble over the edge.

Her finger tips were brushing against his cheek, her eyes half-lidded. “Kiss me, Arthur.”

He surged up, bracing an arm by her head as his lips descended upon hers. She moaned against his lips, cupping his face and holding him close as his fingers continued to move inside her, his thumb pressing against the swollen bud. He felt her start to clench around his fingers and her lips broke from his as she cried out.

“That’s it, Ada... Let go, that’s it...” he murmured, drawing his head back to watch her.

Tilting her head back, all she could and wanted to focus on was the pleasure coursing through her, building and taking hold. Then, he curled his fingers inside her and brushed his thumb across the bud. Her release consumed her as her back arched, her head spinning now for an entirely different reason, cries tumbling from her lips.

“Oh, God, Arthur...”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Her blunt nails sank into his shoulders as her head rolled to the side, her hips rising off the bed. She looked like an angel, he thought, she looked so damn beautiful. He kissed down her neck, across her shoulder, chest. He wrapped his lips around her nipple, sucking lightly as he gradually slowed his fingers, wanting to prolong her pleasure as much as he could. It wasn’t until he felt her fingers wrapping around his wrist, pulling slightly, that he stopped completely, pressing a kiss to her chest.

Ada hummed quietly as his fingers carefully withdrew from her. Her hand remained on his, though, and he lifted it, her fingers, without even being aware of it, lacing with his as he settled their hands on the bed. Kissing the corner of her mouth, he inhaled a long breath.

“Got you quiet now, huh, it’s nice when you ain’t givin’ me shit...”

She laughed, her eyes opening a moment after as she stretched her legs out, contentment spreading through her. “Shut your mouth, Arthur Morgan.”

“All righ’...”

His lips on hers muffled her laugh, her arms wrapping around his neck. It was a soft kiss and they both let it linger.

God, he could get used to this.

Their kiss quickly ended, however, when he felt her hand at the waistband of his trousers.

“Ada...” He pulled back a little, holding himself up over her. “... You don’t—”

“I want to,” she murmured, her other hand on the back of his neck. “Please. Let me.”

He sighed quietly. “Ada—”

“Let me.”

Her fingers brushed against the front of his trousers and his jaw tightened.

Christ...

He nodded. Tilting her chin up, she pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his jaw and his eyes closed. He felt her unbuttoning his trousers, counting each one in his mind. There were only three but time, it felt, stretched between each of them. Then, her fingers were on his cock. He exhaled a short, sharp breath, his teeth gritting. Her touch was so light, so gentle. He didn’t deserve the tenderness of it but, Lord, he wasn’t about to stop her.

Her hand was suddenly on his shoulder, making his eyes open.

“What is it? Do you want to st—”

“Turn over.”

“What?”

She grazed her teeth over her lower lip, unsuccessfully hiding her smile. “Turn over, please. On to your back.”

“Why—”

“Because I said so.”

He didn’t want to argue. He shifted off of her and on to his back, adjusting his head on the pillows. She turned on to her side, her finger tips running up his arm furthest from her. His jaw moved slightly. She traced over the scar at his shoulder the O’Driscoll’s had given him before her fingers glided across his chest. They continued on down, past other, smaller scars, through the hair that covered his chest, down his stomach.

He swallowed as he watched her and she watched her hand. He barely breathed as she explored and he didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to break whatever plan she had or her curiosity. Then she reached the waistband of his trousers. In a matter of seconds her light fingers were dipping inside. A final proposal that she didn’t have to died on his tongue when she slid her fingers around his aching cock.

He sucked in a breath as she withdrew him from the confines of his trousers, freeing him. His cock was painfully hard, and her fingers flexed around him as she adjusted to the weight, eliciting a hiss from him. He had no words, watching her, waiting. He then realised she was waiting, too, no, not waiting, pausing, considering.

“It helps...” Her gaze rose to meet his as he spoke, having to pause to clear his throat. “... It helps if your hand’s a little wet.”

Her lips twitching, she then opened her mouth and licked her palm. The sight of her tongue made his fingers curl into the bedsheets.

Lord, he was acting like a boy who’d never known the touch of a woman... when was the last time he had? Hell, he couldn’t remember, he didn’t want to remember, 

He thought he saw the ghost of a smile before she wrapped her fingers around him and moved her wet palm up and down languidly, curiously. The groan he released had a hiss to it, his eyes falling shut.

Christ...

He just felt. Felt her light, gentle touch caressing him, the soothing pleasure that stretched throughout his body. She was exploring, using her palm, then the tips of her fingers, then he felt... Fuck, then he felt her tongue...

He breathed out the curse as she touched and circled her tongue around his tip tentatively, her finger tips still stroking the length of him. He wanted to see her face, lose himself in her blue eyes, she’d probably smile, too, and it’d be so good, but he didn’t want to demand anything of her, ask any more of her, in fact, he...

He couldn’t.

“Hey...” His hand found her cheek, stroking lightly, and he only opened his eyes when he felt her pull back, knowing it would break his resolve if he saw her between his knees and...

Clearing his throat, he found her gaze, a corner of his mouth lifting slightly at her frown of confusion.

“I can’t, I...”

“Did you not like it?”

Her quiet voice almost broke his heart.

“No, no, I, I did, but I...” He licked his lips. How could he even begin to explain? “I...”

She was just looking up at him with a beautiful, open expression, but he just couldn’t.

“... I wanna taste you again.”

She blinked, her lips parting a little wider. That softened his smile.

“... But you just—”

“Please, sweetheart.” He was asking for so much more than was being said. He didn’t know if she’d understand that as she gazed at him.

Then, a smirk pulled at her lips as she placed her hands on his knees and pushed herself up, her mouth nearing his. “How could I say no to that, you hero?”

“For Christ’s sake, woman...”

A wide smile spread across her lips as he caught her around the waist, turned them and lay her back on the bed. She threw her head back, her fingers tangling into his hair as she lost herself to the sensations of him, him, him.

—

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[bangtan-gal]

BTS getting in on with you, while they are at work? As smutty as possible, please help a girl out

BTS Reactions: Sex at work

Jin

    His grip on your wrist was tight as he made quick turns and twists around the building. You kept glancing over your shoulder, praying to god no one was following or thinking too hard about why your boyfriend was basically dragging you around the building. He came to a stop in front of a door, quickly glancing around before he shoved you inside.

“You seriously had to be such a slut that you couldn’t wait?” Jin growled, wasting no time chucking off his shirt and pants. You shrugged, quickly pulling off your own shirt. He pushed you against the wall of—the closet? you didn’t exactly look—and pressed his lips to yours before moving them down your neck.

“I’ve barely seen you for two weeks Jin,” you whine before letting out a breathless moan when he snapped your bras elastic against your skin. His fingers worked quickly with your shorts, unbuttoning them and pushing them down.

He pulled back, frowning at you.

“Ah yes, so then you decided to start riling up all the boys?”

    He didn’t let you answer as he threw off his boxers and picked you up. You’d purposely worn your shortest pair of shorts and kept slowly bending over in front of all the boys, knowing it’d eventually get Jin into action. He wasn’t normally the possessive type, but he wasn’t stupid—he could always tell when you were doing it for attention.

He pushed your panties to the side, a soft grunt escaping him when he saw how wet you were. You expected him to make some remark about it, but he said nothing, quickly pushing himself in. You moaned, your head falling back onto the wall as he started a steady pace.

Yoongi

You sat in silence, your back pressed against the wall as you helped Yoongi sort his music and contracts. His studio was currently a complete mess—his papers all over the place, wires hanging loose, his desk covered in pencils and markers, hell, even his chair was turned over. You had no idea how it got to this state.

“Oh my god Yoongi,” you huffed when he grabbed another box of papers to sort through. “How much shit do you have?”He shot a glare your way.

“You try working in the music industry for over seven years Y/N,” he huffed and then groaned, throwing his head back in dismay. You sighed, adjusting the paper stack beside you before looking back at your friend. His eyebrows were scrunched up, his hair a mess, and he looked absolutely tired. “Fucking hell!”

“Need a blowjob?” You offered sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“Actually, yeah,” he said, shooting you a smirk. You frowned and motioned around to the fact that you were at his workplace. “There’s a lock on the door.”

    You sighed, standing up and quickly clicking it shut. Although Yoongi and you were only friends, it wasn’t the first time you’d had a sexual adventure with one another. You turned around, a blush spreading over your cheeks when you saw him already resting against the wall, legs spread and waiting for you in silence. You quickly made your way over, dropping to your knees in front of him and wasting no time unzipping his pants and pulling him out of his briefs.

    He was already semi-hard and you pumped him a few times, smirking when he grew beneath your hand. You made eye contact for a moment, his eyes dark as he watched your movements. You bent down, licking a slow stripe up his length and then pressing a kiss to the tip. A growl came up from his chest and you stopped teasing, taking him in. He groaned lowly at the feeling of your mouth around him, unconsciously bucking his hips.

    You gagged, but forced yourself to stay down, absolutely refusing to pull away. You bobbed up and down slowly, meeting his gaze under your eyelashes. He grunted, his hand resting tightly in your hair as his hips thrusted up again.

“Shit, Y/N.”

Hoseok

(okay, but I love this gif of him so much and am probably gonna use it every time because MY GOD)

    Watching Hoseok dance always got you turned on. You had no idea why, it just always got to you. Hell, he didn’t even have to be hip-thrusting, he could just be rolling his shoulders and you would be victim to him. You sat against the mirror, watching as the man checked himself out shamelessly as he danced across the floor. You blushed, averting your gaze when he tried to meet yours.

    He finished the dance, running his hand through his hair with a sigh. Sweat clung to his body and you pursed your lips, trying not to stare too obviously. He caught your stare, a grin spreading along his face as he tousled his hair in a towel.

“Need something, Kitten?” He asked softly, tilting his head.

“Stop being a tease,” you whined, clenching your thighs together at the name. He approached you, crouching down in front of you with a raise of his eyebrows. Then his gaze darted towards the door, biting at his lip wearily.

    Hoseok reached out, pulling you to your feet. He dragged you to the other side of the room, sitting you down between his legs and pulling out his phone.While he pretended to be scrolling through his phone, his other hand dipped down between your legs. He moved past your skirt and pulled your panties down with one talented flick of his hand.

He slid his finger along your slit, letting out a soft groan at the wetness there. Then he pushed it in and you whimpered, back arching against him. The palm of his hand massaged your clit and he added another finger, pumping them in and out quickly. You gasped, tilting your head back and your hand digging into his shirt. He chuckled, his chest vibrating against your back.

He kept the pace up, eventually adding a third finger. You squirmed against him, letting out a soft moans and whimpers. He grunted, thrusting his hips into your back. Your stomach was tight and you could sweat collecting at the back of your neck as you neared your high.“Hose…” you mumbled and then pressed back against him, letting out a quiet squeak when you came.

“That was rather exciting, wasn’t it Kitten?”

Namjoon

    You didn’t know how the hell he was doing it. You sat in the meeting room, two very important men across from you and talking business like any professional. You didn’t how he kept a straight face; especially as you were jerking him off under the table. You kept  your head down, your teeth digging into your lip as you focused on keeping a fast pace, but keeping it quiet.

“Excuse us Mr. Kim,” one of the men said. “We’re going to discuss some things and then we’ll be back.”

    They left the room and the second the door closed behind them, you sped up your pace. His facade melted away and he curled forward, closing his eyes and letting out a soft moan. You whimpered at the sound, fuck he sounded so… good. Maybe in any other situation you would’ve reprimanded yourself—he was your boss—but he was also the man who had told you what he wanted before the meeting. It had been random, it had been on the spot, but you didn’t mind. Especially now as you watched the pleasure spread over his sharp features.

He jerked sharply and gasped, reaching down and grabbing your wrist. He glanced at you lazily from the corner of his eye, a weak smile on his face. He stopped your movements and pulled you closer.

“As much as I would love to finish now, I’d rather be inside you when I cum.”

Taehyung 

“Tae,” you grunted when he thrusted up into you. The two of you were in Namjoon’s studio (and no, you don’t know how the hell you got there) and he was bound to walk in any second. He let out a soft gasp into your ear as he held you still, bucking his hips up again in a particularly hard thrust. You leaned forward, gasping and grabbing tightly onto the armrest.

    He took your reaction as a chance to speed up and the noises that came from between the two of you were loud and lewd. A moan fell from you and you let yourself rest back against him. He grunted again and adjusted you so he could get a better angle. You closed your eyes, resting your head on his shoulder.

    Within seconds your soft moans and whimpers fill the room, along with clothes being roughly brushed against each other. Your hand tightened on the chair as you neared you eyes, eyes squeezing shut. Taehyung let out a string of curses and just seconds after you came undone, so did he.

“What the actual hell is going on in here?”

Jimin

“Jimin pleeeasseee,” you whined as you cuddled into his side. He glanced over his shoulder and then met your heated gaze.

“No.”

(lol sorry)

Jungkook

What had started off as innocent tickling had turned into a makeout session which had quickly turned into Jungkook going down on you. The two of you were alone in the breakroom but you didn’t know how much longer that would last. Jungkook was working wonders on your clit and his tongue kept diving inside you.

You let out another loud whimper, trying to keep your eyes focused on the door as you back arched. He held your hips down, keeping your legs spread with his shoulders as he sucked hard on your clit. You bucked beneath him, gasping and panting as he kept up his ministrations. Your fingers dug desperately into his hair, trying to pull him deeper into you.

“Kookie,” you whined, closing your eyes.

“You’re gonna have to stay quiet for me princess,” he murmured, pulling back from you and raising his eyebrows. You blushed and he dove back in, his teeth lightly nipping at your clit before he suckled it into his mouth. Lights flashed in your vision and you let out a soft gasp, forgetting to watch the door and letting your eyes flutter shut as the dam in your stomach broke.

[calteahood]

Killer Queen {Luke Hemmings}

Rating: M — Please be 18+ to read!

Warnings: SMUT! Includes daddy kink, spitting, spanking, light slapping (very light), & degrading terms.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author's Note: Hi! So, this is my first one shot for 5SOS. Starting with a bang. Here's some filth featuring our good man Luke, completely inspired by the photo above. Started writing this as soon as they posted it, and now this is finally being posted! Please please please share and give feedback! I look forward to hearing what you think! Thank you, enjoy! xx

It was no secret how sexually active you and Luke were. The number of times the boys had walked in on a backstage blowjob was astounding, and you were positive the tour crew members were tired of hearing you through hotel walls every single night. But hey, you couldn't help it. With your life back at home keeping you there it's not like you could visit your rock star of a boyfriend often. It's not like he was physically there all the time to give you all the orgasms you craved.

Plus, as you two furthered your relationship in general, your relationship in the bedroom only seemed to get more.. interesting. What started with missionary position and only doing it tangled in your bed sheets or laying on his couch turned into a whirlwind of kinks. From a position such as doggy style to openly calling him daddy, despite who could hear you in action, you wanted it all. And Luke was more than happy to give it to you whenever, and wherever, you pleased.

Being on the road with the boys didn't just mean great parties and amazing shows. It wasn't only seeing incredible views with your incredible boyfriend. Their band photographer has his camera rolling constantly, capturing moments 24/7. When the American leg of the tour came around, the tour you could actually come to visit for a few days, there was a poster for every show. Sometimes it was cool artwork, but other times the boys posed for the poster.

You were lucky enough to be on set during one specific shoot that drove you wild. With the new album came a new aesthetic, one where the guys happened to feel free to express themselves, even if it seemed a bit feminine at times. You loved it. The photoshoot set was simple, just a white background with a king's throne. The stylist did amazing with the boys, especially Luke, and you couldn't take your eyes off him. A burnt orange flowy button-up covered his torso, tucked into his white pants, and of course he had to wear his sparkly golden boots. Of course. He sat down in the throne, claiming his spot as frontman. It would only fuel his ego more, but he was confident and glowing, and you didn't mind a bit.

All throughout the photoshoot you couldn't help the pool between your legs. Luke really did look like a king, and you were living for his cocky demeanor as he sat on the throne.

Once the shoot was done the set crew began to put things away and the boys went to change out of their outfits into something casual until the concert later. Before following Luke you watched as two men set the throne into a storage room. You wouldn't be surprised if people could literally see the light bulb that popped up above your head, a mischievous grin forming on your lips.

Before Luke reached the dressing room you reached out for his hand. "Hey love, what'd ya think of the shoot?"

You smiled. "I'm sure Andy got some great shots. You guys looked good."

Luke chuckled, of course he looked good. He's worked so hard on being happy and healthy, he's proud to admit that he thinks he's hot shit after years of not knowing who he was. Really, you were thankful. You'd rather have a confident Luke with a hint of cocky instead of a boyfriend who felt lost and ugly in his own skin. "Thanks babe. And what'd you think about me?"

"Best looking one up there."

Kiss ass.

He smiled. "Thank you. I'm gonna head to the dressing room, get changed and chill out for a bit. Are you coming with me or gonna stay out here and wait?"

Now was your chance. You knew the tour team the band has wouldn't care if you two went off for a few (or more) minutes as long as you didn't take all day. Plus it was better than fucking on the bus where everyone could hear. All you had to worry about was Luke. You had to hope he would be down for your evil scheme. "Actually," you began, "I was wondering if you wanted to have a little fun with me?"

This made Luke's brows raise with curiosity, but he caught on to your naughty grin. He knew you were up to no good, and he loved it. "Depends. What kind of fun, little girl?"

Little girl… oh fuck. It felt almost pathetic. He had you in the palm of his hand with a simple pet name. You had to regain at least a bit of dominance, so you stood tall and confident. "Let me show you." He allowed you to lead him into the storage room, which was luckily unlocked, where the throne was placed. Other props for different photo shoots surrounded it, but the chair sat in the center of the room, basically asking to be used. You were definitely going to show him what kind of fun you had in mind. You carefully closed the door, making sure to lock it. Nodding your head to the center of the room, you quietly said, "Sit back on the throne, baby."

His smirk matched yours, proud to know that his girl had something so raunchy up her sleeve.

As he sat on the throne, untucking his shirt and setting his arms on the beautifully detailed armrests, you stood before him. The damn smirk could not leave your face. Without saying anything, you gently grabbed ahold of your lace panties through the fabric of your thin dress, tugging them down your thighs until they were visible and falling down your legs. Without taking your short heels off, you stepped out of the underwear, kicking them off to the side, before moving forward.

You straddled Luke's thighs, your legs slipping through the open arms of the throne so your feet could touch the ground. Thankfully you chose to wear a dress with a more flowy skirt, so it easily rode up, allowing your soaked core to rub against him. You rub your hands up and down his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt. "You looked so good during the photoshoot, daddy.. still do," you mumble. He whispered a quiet thank you, then you spoke up again. "But you'd look so much better on this throne without anything on."

Before he could stop you, your hands gripped the front of his shirt, the part that should be buttoned up, but the boy loved showing off his chest. Without hesitation you pulled your hands apart, yanking open the shirt while little buttons went flying. His grin immediately turned into a frown, and with a low gasp he reached one hand up to roughly grab your jaw.

"Little girl, what is wrong with you? Ripping my shirt like that? I'll have to pay the stylist for that! Are you asking to be punished?" Luke growled, slightly shaking your head with his grip on your jaw.

You moved your hips, grinding against him. "Mmm.. maybe I am, daddy." Despite how mad he seemed at your little stunt you still let out a small giggle and gave him an innocent smile.

"Oh baby, you're in for it. Bet that's just what you want, though." The hand that wasn't holding you moved down to his belt, quickly unbuckling it before moving to undo his pants. He expertly pushed his pants down a bit, pulling his boxers along so his hard cock could spring out. He let out a deep groan at the feeling of freeing his cock from the tight confinements he had on. With the hand that was on your jaw he moved his thumb up to your bottom lip, pushing it against your mouth. "Suck," he demanded, "'m too pissed with you to hear you say anything else."

You happily obliged, allowing his thumb to slip between your soft lips. You moaned around it, swirling your tongue as if you were on your knees sucking him off. Suddenly he pulled his hand away, lifted your dress with his other, and placed his wet thumb roughly on your clit. "Fuck," you breathed out. Your hands slipped down, one wrapping around his cock while the other lightly caressed his balls.

His fingers slid down to your slit, his thumb never stopping its rapid motions, before pushing two fingers into you. The sudden feeling surprised you, but you would be lying if you said you didn't want him to go even harder on you. With both of your hands occupied on each other's bodies you whined. "Daddy, please, more."

A dark chuckle escaped his lips as he pushed in a third. His rings felt cool against the heat between your legs. The hand that held your dress up moved to your cheek, gently caressing it before giving you a couple light taps on the cheek. "You want to be punished so bad, wanna be fucked on this throne like a little slut," his fingers began to move in and out of you faster, bringing you closer to an edge that you so desperately needed, "I'll give you what you want, but don't be pouty when I make your pussy sore from how much you'll be cumming."

"I promise I'll be good daddy, just punish me!" You begged him, and he fell right into it.

Luke moved his hand out from under you, leaving you gasping, wanting something to fill you up. He grabbed onto the end of your dress, yanked it up to pull it off of you and throw it somewhere in the room. He reached behind you to undo the clasp of your bra, which quickly followed the dress. He took this time to caress up and down your sides, squeezing your tits a couple times before moving his hands down to your ass, gripping tightly. You leaned forward, spitting down onto his cock as lube so you could continue jerking him off. He groaned and pulled you closer to him, attaching your lips in a fierce kiss, clashing teeth and biting lips. With him pulling you closer it allowed the lower half of your body to rub against him. You moved your hands to wrap your arms around his neck, placing your pussy against his cock to grind down. Luke moved his hands from the soft flesh of your ass to your hips, grabbing at you roughly.

With both hands squeezing your hips he settled you right above his cock, his tip grazing against your slit, teasing you. It was as if he read your mind, because before you could beg him to put it in he was pushing you down, allowing your pussy to take him until your ass was pressed against his thighs. You both let out a moan, yours a bit more shaky due to how good his big cock felt in you. His arms slipped around you, holding you so you fell into his chest. Your head rested right under his chin as he bucked his hips up once, twice, him hitting it deep in you.

You began to bounce, the soft echo of your ass slapping against his pant-covered thighs. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you moaned into his chest. "Fuuuuck.. oh my— fuck, daddy," you mumbled out.

He reached a hand up to yank on your hair, pulling your head back so that he could look down, directly looking at you. His blue eyes were clouded over with lust as his lips pulled into a devilish smirk. "Open your mouth, princess."

You did as you were told, poking your tongue out. Your hips never faltered, continuing to ride him. He leaned his head down slightly, his grip on your hair getting stronger. When he was no more than two inches away from you he spat into your mouth.

"Close those lips, slut. Swallow like a good girl and maybe then I'll let you swallow my cum too." He yanked your hair once more as he gave you your order. His hands slipped to your hips against, forcing you down on him harder than before. One moved to graze your ass before slapping it. "Count, slut." He slapped your ass again.

"That's two, daddy," you whimpered out. He continued his assault, loving hearing you whine for him. The words, how shaky you sounded. "Three, f-four… five!"

You felt his fingers move to your pussy, thumbs slipping in between your moving bodies to grasp onto your lower lips, spreading them apart and allowing him more access to you. You couldn't help but moan out, only wanting to feel him deeper and deeper.

He chuckled. "Desperate for me in your tight cunt, huh?"

You nodded vigorously. "Yes daddy! More, please more!" You begged and begged, forehead resting against his. You felt him readjust the way he was sitting, making sure his feet were planted firmly on the ground before quickly thrusting up into you, hitting your spot perfectly. "Oh my— fuck! Daddy!"

"Cum on my cock, little girl. Hurry so I can cum down that pretty throat of yours, or else I will take you across my knee and spank you till you can't sit," he threatened. While the ladder sounded amazing, knowing how much you both loved spanking, you wanted him to fuck your face a bit. Really punish you, because you knew damn well that you deserved it after acting like a brat and ripping his shirt. Or maybe you just wanted to be treated like his little slut. Both options sounded spot on.

You bounced faster as his thrusts grew stronger, meeting your center each time snapped his hips up. "Yes daddy, fuck I'm gonna cum. Fuck fuck fuck!" Like that, you feel yourself release, cumming all over his cock. You slowed down your movements, breathing heavy. You couldn't help it, you just had one of the best orgasms of your life. Each time with Luke was amazing, but when he was bossy and dominated you, treating you like a little whore… You knew you shouldn't admit to it, but it turned you on more than you could ever imagine. You loved being daddy's little slut.

He suddenly pulled you off of his lap, staying in his seat but pushing you down onto your knees, grabbing your hair with one hand to push your head towards him. "Open your mouth, little one," he ordered. Of course, you complied. You open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out, allowing him to shove your head down onto his cock. Instead of thrusting up into your mouth, he used his grip on your hair to move your head up and down, controlling how much of him you took. He gave you a few seconds to catch your breath and suck on the tip, before you heard him give an animal-like growl and shove as much of him down your throat as he could. He did this twice more before groaning and cumming into your mouth. Once he was done you pulled off of him, swallowing then opening your mouth to show that you took every last drop.

Sighing, he leaned back into the throne as one of his hands caressed your cheek, slipping his thumb into your mouth for you to gently suck on. "Little girl, you make me feel like a damn king sometimes, you know that?"

You giggled, moving back up onto his lap. "I'm happy to, daddy. As long as I'm your queen."

With that, he gave a playful slap to your ass. "Of course you are baby, daddy's little queen." He brought you in for a kiss, much sweeter than before, sealing the promise that though he's the one on the throne, he'd do anything for his girl; his queen.

That's for damn sure.