#he relaxes a bit and his eyes go a little crossed/jaw goes slack because he’s kinda into it…..

[umemiyan]

umemiya reluctantly putting you in a headlock, only because you’re practically begging him to give it a try. obviously he could do it with ease (he literally has “conversations” with his fists), but he’s having trouble doing it on cue, and doing it on you.

but when you reach around to suddenly pinch him because he’s not doing it seriously enough, and he finally tightens up just a bit… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[vodika-vibes]

Yo, could i get a Delta Squad story where Boss brings in his firstborn child to the squad? Hehehehe

Delta Squad's New Addition

Summary: Two months after his son was born, Boss decides it's time to introduce him to his uncles.

Pairing: Clone Commando Boss x F!Reader

Word Count: 1461

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Boss asks as he watches you carefully bundle the infant up in thicker clothes, “I don’t mind waiting to introduce him to my brothers.”

You roll your eyes, “Boss, babe, you’ve been chomping at the bit to introduce little Alyn to his uncles since the day he was born.” You press the little boy into his father’s arms, “Why do we only own orange clothes for him?”

“Because that’s what color armor I wear. You thought it was cute.” Boss points out dryly.

You pause and squint at him, “And you let me?”

“The first time I tried to suggest that we buy other colors you started crying, so I took the high road and just didn’t mention it ever again.” Boss replies.

“...I cried? Over clothes colors?”

“You were very hormonal.”

“Ugh.” You make a face, “I’m sorry.”

He chuckles and leans over to kiss your temple, “It’s okay. It’s a relatively minor thing, after all.” He watches you carefully pack the diaper bag, and he stops you with a laugh, “Cyare, sweetheart, I am able to do all of this.”

“I know, I know.” You sigh, “I’m just…a little anxious. Your brothers still don’t know about me, and now your introducing Alyn to them, and I just-”

“Everything is going to be fine.”

“What if they scare him?”

“They won’t because then they’ll have to deal with me.” Boss says patiently, “And you need this. You’ve been going non-stop since you got pregnant almost a year ago. You deserve this break.”

“I-”

“Go. Spend time with your friends at the spa.” Boss kisses your forehead, and then ducks his head to brush his lips against yours, “Have a nice, fun, relaxing day. And don’t worry about anything.”

“You’re asking for the impossible, love.”

“Try to not worry about anything.” He lightly tucks some hair behind your ear, “I know worrying comes as naturally as breathing to you, but trust me.”

You sigh and lean into his touch, “I do trust you, I’ll try to not worry so much.” Just then your friend pulls up in the speeder and parks in front of the house. “Um, let me know how it goes?” You kiss Alyn’s forehead, and then look up at Boss.

“Of course.” He kisses you one more time, and then gently nudges you out of the house and into your best friend's waiting embrace. 

He waits until the speeder is gone, before he looks down at the baby in his arms, “So, are you ready to meet your uncles, ad’ika?” Alyn just yawns widely and grips his finger.

Boss steps into the debrief room where his brother’s normally are, and he’s not the least bit surprised to see that the only one there is Fixer. He sets Alyn’s diaper bag on a table, and carefully sets Alyn’s car seat on the table next to the bag, and pulls him out of it.

Fixer stares at the baby, his jaw slightly slack, and then his gaze slides over Boss, who is dressed in casual clothing, and his jaw drops a little more. “Vod…Boss…you…who..-?”

“Where are Sev and Scorch?” Boss asks as he offers Alyn his finger.

“...training room-” Fixer says slowly, “Are we really not going to mention the tubie? I feel like we should talk about the tubie.”

Boss rolls his eyes and then walks across the room to his brother, “Fixer, allow me to introduce you to my son, Alyn.”

“Son. You have a son-?”

“He’s two months old now.” Boss says calmly.

“...where’s his mother?” Fixer asks, his voice hushed as he offers the baby his finger.

“I sent her on a spa day. She’s been going non-stop since she found out she was pregnant a year ago, and deserves a break.” Boss replies, “Do you want to hold him?”

“Can I?”

“Take off your gauntlets and chest piece, and you can.” Boss says easily, a small amused smile crosses his face as Fixer quickly strips the top part of his armor off, faster than he’s ever done it before. Boss chuckles and passes Alyn into his brother’s arms.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Fixer says quietly, as he looks down at the baby in awe.

“Wife,” Boss corrects with a wry smile, “I have a wife.”

“And you haven’t introduced her to us?” Fixer asks, looking up at his brother, slightly hurt.

“We’ve been busy.” Boss says with a shrug, “And it’s not exactly like it’s legal, vod.”

“...oh. Right.” Fixer mutters, “None of us would have ratted you out, Boss. You have to know that.”

“Course I do. But I also wasn’t about to risk my pregnant wife until I was sure that she was safe.” Boss replies easily, not feeling the least bit guilty about it. “I’ll introduce you all to her when she comes to get Alyn later today.”

Fixer opens his mouth to say something, only to pause when there’s some loud voices, and then Sev and Scorch push their way into the room, and stop as soon as they see Boss in casual clothes and the baby in Fixer’s arms.

“What the kriff-?” Sev breaths out as he walks over to Fixer and peers at the baby in his arms, “Who’s the tubie?”

“Boss’ son,” Fixer replies.

“Son!” Scorch and Sev turn startled eyes towards their brother, “You have a son?”

“Obviously, seeing as he’s right there.” Boss says with a roll of his eyes.

Scorch strips off the top part of his armor and makes grabby hands towards Fixer, “Let me hold the baby,” He whisper hisses, “What’s his name?”

“His name is Alyn, it’s a family name from my wife’s family.”

Scorch and Sev stare at Boss, stunned, “You’re married?” Sev asks blankly, “Since when!?”

“For over a year now. You’ll meet her this evening.” Boss replies as he watches Fixer pass Alyn to Scorch, “She’s taking a rest day at a spa, she deserves it. Seeing as she handled the pregnancy mostly on her own.”

“If you told us-” Scorch says between cooing at the baby.

“Nothing would have changed,” Boss says easily, “I know that. And so does she. Luckily, my wife is amazing enough to handle everything on her own. Though she shouldn’t have to.”

“Are you going to have more?” Sev asks as he peers at Alyn over Scorch’s shoulder.

“Maybe, probably, eventually.” Boss shrugs, “She’s still recovering from Alyn’s birth, so she said we can talk about it in a year, and no sooner.”

“I can’t believe you managed to find a wife and have a son, and I haven’t even found a girlfriend,” Scorch grumbles, though it’s clear that he’s not actually upset.

“Well, he is Boss,” Sev says with a laugh, “It only makes sense.” He pulls of the top part of his armor and sets it next to Fixer’s and Scorch’s, and then he leans over to lightly trail a finger through Alyn’s curly hair, “His hair looks red.”

“Red runs in my wife’s family. Her mother and both of her grandparents are redheads,” Boss explains, “Though she says that he looks like me.”

Three sets of eyes focus on the baby, and then over to Boss, “Yeah. I can see it.” Scorch finally says.

“He does look an awful lot like the tubies back on Kamino,” Fixer notes, “Though I’m sure some of his mother’s features will come in as he ages.”

“He has our curls,” Sev notes with a slightly smug grin.

“Apparently he was born with a full head of hair.” Boss pulls out his comm, and swipes through some pictures, “Ah, here we go.” He turns the device towards his brothers, “My wife, and Alyn, an hour after he was born. We were on a mission, so I couldn’t be there, but my wife’s best friend made sure that I was kept up to date.”

Fixer frowns, “I remember that mission, you were super distracted all day, I thought you were feeling under the weather, not that you were worried about your wife.”

“I tried to hide it.”

“You did a shit job,” Sev says, “Even I picked up on your nerves.”

“Yeah, yeah. I was hoping to be there for the birth, so I was annoyed that I couldn’t be.” Boss says with a scowl, “Besides, we got through just fine.”

“Yeah, if not a little rushed.” Scorch teases, before he hands Alyn to Sev, “You said we’re meeting your wife this afternoon?”

“Yeah. She said she’ll bring food.” Boss replies, “She’s a little nervous about meeting you all. So be nice.”

“We’re always nice!” Scorch says.

“Bullshit.”

“We’ll be on our best behavior for our sister-in-law.” Fixer interjects, “Do you think she’ll bring wedding pictures?”

[thebaddestofbatches]

The Bad Batch Preferences pt. 1

Kissing

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

Crosshair

Favorite Place: Just behind your ear and along your jaw. He prefers to wrap his arms around you from behind and these places are easier to reach. Plus they’re more sensitive and he likes to watch you squirm.

Makeouts: Definitely. And frequently. Whenever he gets back from a mission, you do something he finds hot, or just because he hasn’t kissed you in awhile.

First Kiss:

It was hot on Techitua. Dusty too. You lowered your shades on your nose, a polarized version of Tech’s goggles as Crosshair opened a case on the ground.

A makeshift shooting range was set up parallel to the Marauder, a metal piece with a target spray painted on it placed at a distance of 25 meters.

Hunter had told you that if you wanted to stay on board, you needed to know how to defend yourself and assigned you to Crosshair, without even asking if you had any prior experience.

“Alright. I don’t expect you to be top notch with this thing.” Crosshair said, his tone borderline patronizing as he removed a small blaster from the case. “Blasters take a lot of practice to use correctly and you’re only a doctor. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t hit anything.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and took the blaster from his hand. Barely looking at the target, you took aim and fired one, two, three, four, five shots.

Crosshair’s slack jaw and a quick glance told you they all hit the bullseye.

“You forget, soldier,” You said smugly. “I’m an army doctor. I can rip you apart and put you back together just as easily.”

Crosshair’s toothpick hit the dirt and then he was on you, smashing his lips to your hungrily.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Echo

Favorite place: Your hand. He likes to hold your hand and bring it up to his lips for absentminded kisses. When you cup his face, he turns his head and presses kisses to your palm.

Makeouts: Not too often. He’s shy after all his modifications and you definitely have to initiate them, but once he relaxes, then he’s into it.

First Kiss:

“Dang ferreck!” You swore as the control panel of the rescued radio shocked you for the fifth time that night.

You gave it a swift thump on the top in retaliation, gritting your teeth.

You needed this to work. It had to work. It’d been so long since you heard real music.

Another try at the wiring and another spark that singed your fingertips. You let out another string of curses and tossed your screwdriver onto the counter with a clank before thumping your forehead against the table repeatedly.

There was a gentle touch on your back that stopped your assault on your cranium. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel the poke of Echo’s prosthetic through your tunic.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No,” You grumbled into the metal.

Echo sighed quietly and after some shifting behind you, you raised your head to see his human hand disconnect two crossed wires and reconnect them at new points. There was a fizz of static and then a gentle song began to float through the speakers.

You let out a whoop of joy and leaped to your feet, grabbing the clone by his collar to pull him down for a quick kiss.

“Thank you!” You squealed, snatching up your screwdriver again and leaving Echo standing there, stunned and pink.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Hunter

Favorite place: Your neck. He likes to feel your pulse point and kiss the sunmarks and spots along your skin. It’s also one of the best places for him to get your scent.

Makeouts: Not as often as Crosshair, but frequent. He likes to be affectionate with you and when he gets time or feels stressed, being around you and close to you is his priority.

First Kiss:

You’d been separated from the Batch in a marketplace and were now wandering aimlessly.

As you passed an alleyway you heard a whistle and a man sidled up to you.

“Hey gorgeous,” He said. “Where you going?”

“Away from you,” You muttered, but he heard it anyway and snorted. “Feisty girl.”

A gag rose up in your throat and you increased your pace. Behind you the man called. “Hey I’m talking to you! Though I appreciate the view!”

A hand landed on your butt and you whirled, fist raised to deck the stranger for daring to touch you. Before you could though, someone stepped between you and punched him, hard.

You looked up to see Hunter, a deep scowl on his tattooed face as he glowered at your harasser.

“Don’t touch her,” He growled, drawing up to his full height.

The man spat and launched himself at Hunter, sending them both rolling to the ground.

There was some yelling and sounds of fists hitting bodies before Hunter scrambled to his feet breathing hard as your harasser lay on the ground, groaning.

Hunter turned to you with worried eyes and you punched him in the arm hard and then quickly pecked his lips. “You didn’t have to make a scene.”

“Sorry,” He said, not sounding sorry at all as he pulled you in for another kiss.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Tech

Favorite place: Your forehead and temples. He can get so busy with this or that and a quick peck to the forehead is his go-to for affection when he’s caught up in something.

Makeouts: Usually whenever he gets an idea he wants to try with you. He learned affection mainly from books so he’s picking up more and more as he goes. Usually you initiate the sessions. However, when he gains confidence later in the relationship, things get more serious as he experiments.

First Kiss:

“Tech?” You called from the porch of your hideout. Hunter had sent you to fetch the male for dinner and so far he was nowhere to be found.

“In here!” The clone called and you followed the sound into the shed to see Tech holding two vials above a pot.

“What’re you doing?” You asked leaning on the doorframe.

“I’m testing a theory. The substance excreted from the fire salamanders’ skin may have some properties that can boost our explosives.” He replied, carefully tipping the vial of white powder in, followed by the orange liquid.

“And you thought it was a good idea to test that in my shed?” You said, quirking a brow.

The technician had the decency to look a little abashed. “Well it isn’t in the house.”

He set the tubes aside and picked up a firestarter, holding it over the pot. “And a spark to trigger the reaction..”

Crack. Fwoomp! Boom!

The small windows shattered and you ducked as a blaze burst up from the pot and then died out just as quickly, sending up a cloud of ash and dust.

When the smoke receded, you heard Tech give a small cough and looked over to see his whole face covered in soot and the front of his normally gelled back hair spiked up.

You burst into giggles, picking up a small cloth from the worktable and approaching the clone to wipe his goggles clean.

He blinked at you from behind the lenses, like he was surprised to see you and you smiled. “That went well.”

Tech gave you a sheepish look. “I’m sorry about the windows. I’ll fix them tomorrow.”

You laughed again, waving him off. “It’s alright. I was prepared for damages when I brought you lot here.”

He gave you a grateful look and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself, darting forward and pecking his lips.

Tech immediately turned scarlet. “What was that for?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

And then you passed him the cloth with a wink. “Hunter says dinner’s ready. You should probably clean up a bit before you come inside.”

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Wrecker

Favorite place: Your cheeks and nose. He likes to pepper kisses all over your face. He’s so enraptured by you that he wants to keep you close at all times to make sure you’re real. Plus he’s a massive cuddlebug.

Makeouts: On occasion. But this boy is too much of a teddy bear for anything more than gentle loving touches. He’s slow and sweet and so very careful with you.

First Kiss:

The Batch was pinned down in an abandoned bunker as a gang faction gathered outside. Echo was doing his best to reboot the turrets while Tech worked on the doors, but unless it happened fast, you weren’t getting out of this unscathed.

You were peering out one of the broken windows with Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker picking off grunts where you could, but they had greater numbers and illegal firepower.

A shot from a bike mounted turret hit the wall above your lookout and the ceiling caved in, causing Wrecker tackle you, cradling you to him as he rolled away.

“You alright?” He asked, pushing off of you, his voice higher than normal.

“Yeah.” You said and Hunter swore as glass shattered behind you.

“Echo!! What’s the status on those defense systems?!”

“Same as you asked thirty seconds ago!” Echo snapped. “These circuits are rubbish! This place should have been scrapped for parts years ago!”

Parts.

A light bulb went off in your brain and you immediately turned to Wrecker. “Give me a charge!”

“Why?!”

“Trust me!”

He gave you a look you couldn’t read under the helmet, but dropped an explosive in your palm.

Immediately you started dismantling it. “I need a gravmag, some wires, and anything explosive we can spare. Oh and Echo’s arm.”

“What?” Said Echo.

You ignored him and started your hunt for parts as you snatched a screwdriver, a multipurpose laser tool, and pliers from Tech’s backpack, stripped a console, broke Crosshair’s gravmag off of his grappling hook, and took three more charges from Wrecker. You dismantled, screwed, and rewired before beckoning Echo over and having him weld it all together.

“(Y/N),” Wrecker asked as he fired off another shot. “What are you doing?”

You waved him off as you activated your new, shoddy weapon of mass destruction and bolted for the window, lobbing it as hard and far as you could.

“Hit the dirt!” You yelled and there was a large boom and the whole building rattled.

When the dust cleared, you beamed proudly at the clear landscape.

The gang that had been surrounding your hiding place was now lying unconscious having been thrown a good 50 meters in all directions at extreme speeds.

“What-“ Said Crosshair in his rare stunned tone. “What did you do?”

“Simply,” You said. “I reversed the polarity and made it into a big bang.”

Wrecker whooped and tossed his helmet aside, scooping you into a bear hug and peppering kisses all over your face. “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

You turned pink and he drew back from you enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips, which only served to fill your face with crimson.

There was an awkward cough from one of his brothers and Wrecker turned a similar shade of red, setting you back on the ground.

“Er-“ He said, patting your shoulder awkwardly. “Good job.”

[miyalove]

[ ❄ ]— SNOWED IN.

⤷ pairing. roommate!miya atsumu x fem!reader

⤷ genre. smut, fluff, humor, college au, and they were roommates au

⤷ warnings. swearing, dom!atsumu, sub!reader, ass slapping, begging, atsumu is 1000% a tease, oral (male receiving),  praise, choking on atsumu’s (large) dick, domestic sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, penetrative sex, sex without a condom (please, be safe ya’ll), hickeys, *unedited

3.5k | being snowed in with a broken heater is anything but ideal. when your favorite thick blanket and the layers of fluffy sweaters no longer cut it, your roommate ask of you something you just can’t turn down.

five days.

it has been five days in which the snow storm forced you and atsumu to stay inside. the first day was fine. the power hadn’t went out and your heater was set to a temperature that you and atsumu agreed on. your phones and other electronics were fully charged and ready to use for emergencies or for quick netflix binges. everything was okay.

day two came a little harsher. waking up with your hairs on the back of your neck standing, you realized the power had finally went. it was sometime in the early morning, but even within a short time span the chilly air was still able to nip through the interior. no power meant no heater or hot water. the day dragged on just like anyone would expect. atsumu had complained for hours upon hours. screeching dramatically and throwing his body on the floor like a child who wasn’t allowed to eat candy before dinner.

day three was just as bad if not worse. no amount of blankets and thick winter coats could fight off the cold. you wake up with your teeth chattering, your body shaking, and to top it all off, you think you might be getting sick too. you could tell night had finally came when everything got immensely worst. your breath frosted and sneezing between you and atsumu was non-stop. this was also the day you proposed that the two of you cuddle up for extra warmth. it was a casual conversation that you had to murmur between glassy breaths.

reluctantly, atsumu agreed. at first, he turned away saying something about not “liking the cuddling lifestyle”. you rolled your eyes at his claim because everyone loves cuddles. you had gotten excited at the aspect of showing him what a good session can awaken within. your theory was proven right later into the night though. you rested your head on his shoulder, using some candle light to read through a chapter of a book you’ve been into recently. an exciting thriller that has you anticipatingly flipping through page after page.

atsumu was doing his own thing though. what it was? you didn’t know. really you weren’t paying attention. even when he hummed and grumbled lowly a few times, your brushed it off. not wanting to stray away from the words on the pages, you hoped he worked out whatever his problem is by himself. the last straw though was when his fingers slowly creeped up your thigh.

you shifted your attention, eyeing the man besides you. he boldly holds your stare. he’s daring enough to put on a nonchalant expression, face completely relaxed. his hues shine with something hidden behind them. something you can’t quite make out but they have you not wanting to look away. he doesn’t say anything and for a while the two of you just stare. 

when you drop the book was when he finally pounced. 

“’bout damn time,” he teases. 

in seconds, he pulls you close. your back flush against his chest and his arms pulled you in by your middle, resting there. your sat in between his crossed legs. you had no words at first. everything had happened so fast. for a second you sit there wide-eyed and in shock, fazed and stare lingering in the darkness. then you felt  the comforting warmth slowly creep in. when he spoke, the vibration in his chest felt inviting and things went lax again.

“keep your mouth open ‘nd a fly ‘ill get in there.” you can’t help but laugh.

“whatever happened to ‘not the cuddling type’, huh?”

“shut the fuck up,” venomous words but the way he dug his nose into your neck proved the opposite. 

day four went the same way except now you were both all over each other. the night before had broken something between the two of you that wasn’t just roommates status anymore. he’s become a friend and someone you actually look forward to hanging out and talking with. you see pass his honestly and realize that he’s actually quite charming too. atsumu had thrown you tons of curveballs that day and getting to know him was fun. you recall when you where practically straddling his lap, your hands roaming anywhere and everywhere. 

you faced him, eyes soft and laughter apparent because who knew he was a jokester too. gently caressing at his sharp jaw then sliding down to his firm pecs. your hands roamed his body like an ocean waiting to be ventured. with every feather-like touch, you learned another thing that day. miya atsumu is incredibly attractive. you’ll never admit it to him (because you also learned that miya atsumu has an incredibly large ego), but you must be insane if it took you a damn snow storm to realize something that’s so blaringly obvious.

day five was the day he came to you with that intimate proposal. cuddling in any and every position possible was something that was easy for you to do. you’ve warmed up with close friends, both male and female, so you could say that the special act doesn’t truly mean anything, but this– dear god, this man will be the death of you. 

“you want to– what?” you practically screech. you jump back from his body, already missing the heat, but you want to look him dead in the eyes. his eyes, are the most expressive thing about him. atsumu can lie and tease but there was no getting past him when you gazed into his golden hues, but was he really saying what you think he was saying?

“cuddling and all that can only do so much, yanno?” silence. but he goes on anyway, “thought this was a more... practical solution.” and in pure atsumu matter, he doesn’t stray away from you. looking you dead in the eye with all the confidence in the world. there’s no teasing smile or sarcastic cackle. he’s serious. this attractive man that has women constantly falling at his feet... wants to fuck you.

“this is like for the warmth and all that... right?” you’re hesitant. he can see it in the way you look at him. your hues are clouded with all sorts of swirling emotions; concern, worry, uncertainty. he thinks about taking it back. but it’s far too late for doubt now.

“yeah, for the heat,” he repeats it to reassure you or maybe to reassure himself, he doesn’t know. atsumu sits before you. his hair messy from all the times you ran your hand through it and his cheeks are slightly colored pink. why was this such an awkward conversation to have? there’s a constructing feeling in his chest. he feels like he’s suffocating like every breath he takes is stopped by words trying to choke themselves out of his throat. perhaps it’s the cold finally getting to him or maybe it’s the way the candle light perfectly frames your face. 

“so are ya in?”

it’s the way he bit at his lips that get you contemplating. the way he looked at ready to take you whenever and wherever you asked. it was the anxious way he his leg bounced and the ghost-like circles he was rubbing into your thigh. it set ablaze a trail of desire wherever he touched. it laced your veins with adrenaline and lust made for him by him. him, him, him.

when you leaned into his lips was when he finally got an answer. 

“oh, shit,” you sink down on him as the words leave his mouth.

your lips wrapped around him and he mumbles something thing under his breath that you can’t really catch. the warmth from your tongue makes his stomach tighten. the sight from above looks incredible. your down on your knees, mouth stuffed with his cock, and your sweet little ass on display just for him. atsumu lays right at the edge of your bed, legs spread just wide enough for you to kneel between them. one hand pets at your hair, lacing it between your locks.

the way you expertly circle his tip and how your hands play with his balls, makes him sees stars behind his lids. his stomach tenses with every swallow, every small hum that erupts from your throat. god, you are going to be the death of him. when you look up, you let out a small moan, absolutely loving atsumu’s fucked out expression. his thin lips pout at you, his chest is heavy and falls unevenly. it motivates you, the way he groans and grunts; the way he falls apart at your touch.

“just like that, doll. mhm,” he praises. when you look up, his eyes are half-lidded, clouded with lust meant only for you. a small smirk plays at his lips. he’s completely enamored, sweat beads at his forehead and you don’t think he’s ever looked prettier.

your jaw goes slack when you feel his hips buck. you bob your head, gladly welcoming his shallow thrust. the feeling of his dick heavy on your tongue while he forces you to slide further down makes heat between your legs pool. atsumu takes your humming as a sign to go deeper. soon you’re nose is pressed up on his skin and you’re choking on his cock.

“you’re so pretty like this,” he punctuates his praise with a harsh slap to your ass. the sudden movement makes you fly forward, effortlessly swallowing his dick down again. atsumu is clearly caught off guard. he let’s out a surprised mewl, hip stuttering at the overwhelming pleasure.

“fuck– with y- your mouth full of my cock.”

his grip tightens with every thrust. your scalp burns with all the harsh tugging. there’s droll and snot leaking down from your face but it’s all worth it. your lungs burn, begging you for any kind of air. like he was reading your mind, he lets off of you for few seconds. the lewd pop that follows after rips through the empty room as you catch your breath but that sly smile remains on his face. 

even with your heavy panting and watery eyes, atsumu doesn’t exactly let up. his length rest, merely inches away from your face. he pets at your hair, tugging your locks to give him more access to your neck. you shudder when he starts peppering your skin with soft kisses. your eyes flutter close, enjoying the way he nips and sucks at your neck. that’s definitely going to leave a mark, but you don’t find yourself caring. 

his mouth goes to work while his other hand roams your valley. without hesitation, atsumu slides his hand lower cupping your ass. “fits like a gem,” you hear him mumble between sloppy sucking. the breath he lets out tickles your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

his hand slides up to your front, grazing your nipples through the thick lace of your bra. opening your eyes, you look up just in time to see his gaze darken. reaching higher, atsumu cups the back of your neck. there’s a moment in which he stills. golden eyes bore into your own hues. a plain of emotions swirl within him. admiration in the way he smiles at you, hunger in the way he bits his lips. his hair is messy, tousled with all the times you delicately laced your fingers through them and his lips are swollen from the way he was marking you.

there’s only one word that comes to mind; “pretty.”  you didn’t mean it aloud, but when it comes to atsumu your brain short circuits and all sense is thrown out the window. you feel your face heat up at the embarrassingly simple compliment. 

“speakin’ about yerself, now?” of course, he would. typical atsumu miya with his smooth words that make all the panties drop (including yours). you let out a breathy giggle, liking the way your checks ache with all the smiling. without another thought, his head dips down to your own capturing your lips in a heated kiss. 

it’s lazy and sloppy. all teeth and tongue and no space to breath or think, but you like it like this. you like atsumu like this. raw, exposed, and yours. his hands roam to the back of your thighs, pinching slightly in hopes you get the hint. he wants you. now. 

without breaking away, you lean into atsumu. his back gently lands on your sheets, pillows and blankets shaping his tone body to perfection. you brace your arms to help with the fall, successfully trapping him between your body.

“atsumu,” you say, breaking free. 

“hhm?”

“please, fuck me.”

he chuckles, “say less, doll.”

pulling your sweatpants down, his big hands grope your ass in the process. he moves quickly, rushing to get you ready for him. in one swift moment, your underwear is gone and thrown carelessly somewhere.

“you’re so shameless, baby, with that demanding mouth,” flipping you over, you’re under him now. body perfectly, angled so he can see your pretty features  shift whenever he fucks you just right. he loves seeing your mouth agape. loves how you hang off every word, how your body quivers with every touch, how you cry and moan his name. it’s beautiful. you’re beautiful. 

he leaves a trail of kisses down your body until he’s mere inches away from your cunt. his fingers brush against the thin lining of your panties. why you still have them on is beyond him. arousal leaks through the material while atsumu presses against your heat.

“ah– ‘tsumu,” your breathing is frantic when he presses a fleeting kiss on your clothes core. “you’re such a t-tease.” 

he doesn’t say anything. allowing his actions to speak for him. he teases you, hooking his fingers under the thin lace. the way his cold digits brush at your heat makes for a delicious contrast. 

“you look so good,” he purrs pressing a kiss to the inner part of your thigh. “and you’re absolutely fuckin’ dripping. bet i could just slide right into ya.” his fingers are relentless, they ghost over your clit tracing feather-like circles. it’s enough for short spikes of pleasure to rush through you but just as quickly as they come, they’re gone.

“do you want me?”

“god, yes.”

“beg for it then.”

like clock work, you do. “please, ‘tsumu. i need you so bad right now. your hands, your tongue, your cock-- everything. please, i just wanna feel you so bad.”

“ehh,” he ponders before pressing a kiss to your thighs. “could be better.”

it’s stupid the way your heart flutters at his playful teasing. looking up at him through your hazy eyes, you try your best to muster up the perfect puppy dog face. “please, ‘tsumu?” 

he lets out a huff, “god, you’re so annoying.” everything happens so fast. one second, atsumu is softly pecking at your neck. the next he’s roughly grabbing at you, complete man-handling. 

he pulls you impossibly closer. there is no warning or preparation. he rams himself into you, completely taken over by the way your tight pussy swallows him whole. the burn feels fucking painful, you can’t help the screams that tremble from your lips. 

“oh my f-fucking-- mhpm, god!” he’s so big, in length and thickness. moans fill the room while he fills you up. your hot, wet walls clench around him and he groans at the delicious feeling.

“yer so fucking tight, holy shit.” he nuzzles his nose into your neck. “love this cunt so fucking much.” another slap to the ass that rips a deep moan from you.

“please, ‘tsumu,” you pant.

and at that moment, something within him finally snaps. pulling out from your sopping cunt, the tip of his dick rest within you, then in the same second he slams back into your entrance. lewd moans rip from the both of you while pure euphoria runs through your blood. you arch you back, pressing your chest to his, eyes rolling back every time he rams back into you. with each thrust and roll of your hip, his dick rubs at the spot that makes you see stars.

“you feel so good,” you whimper out watching as his dick pumps in and out of your pussy. “filling me up so good-- fuck, with your big dick.”

he shudders at your words, head coming down to latch onto your pebbled nipples. his tongue laps around the sensitive bud while his spare hand kneads at your other breast. a sharp inhale escapes you in between sobs. his hands are freezing from the chilly air within your apartment. it’s like ice on your skin, a complete contrast to how heated you feels. the feeling knocks you back into reality; you and atsumu are fucking in the middle of a snowstorm.

“how’s that feel, babe?” you answer him with a wanton gasp.

“absolutely fucking amazing,” you punctuate your pleasure with a deep roll of your hips. atsumu chuckles, a mix of a strangled moan and teasing.

 “god, yer such a little freak.” he leans down again repeating his action to your other breast. deep thrust becoming more frequent now.

“only f-for you.” 

your words spur him on, atsumu angles his hips to pound onto the one spot that has you crying out. he has your body shaking, his name tumbles out of your mouth like a mantra while he wrecks your body, moaning into your neck. 

the knot of your pleasure tighten. it burns like a white hot coils that’s about to snap. he knows you’re close. with the way your pussy sporadically clenches around him making him groan. god, you’re almost there. he can feel it. your orgasm is right at the tip of your tongue. so close yet so fucking far. you need more and he senses that with the way you silently beg him. “harder, please-- oh, god.” 

your words get caught on your tongue. he fucks right into you with a force so hard, you might have forgotten how to breath. “yes, just l-like that. hmph.”

“fuck yeah,” he groans, nipping your neck. “so good to me, fuck. such a good girl keeping me nice and warm and shit.” at that, you squeeze around him and he lets out a lewd groan. his cold digits travel down your body, rubbing circles around your messy clit. it’s all too much. the way he expertly runts into you, the pleasure his fingers give you, the way he praises you and nips at all your sensitive spots. 

all you can manage at this point are a high pitched whimpers and pleas of his name. sweat drips down both your bodies, your walls clench around him like a vice as he tries his best to fuck you hard. every thrust brushes right at your sweet spot, clouding your vision. a fire burns within you, leaving you gasping and moaning between sobs of air. 

“cum for me, doll.”

and with his words and one last thrust, the coil finally snaps. pleasure rushes through your body in euphoric waves taking over you. your veins pump absolute bliss through you. atsumu follows soon after, painting your walls with spurts of his seed. overwhelming, toe-curling pleasure floods within you both like surges of electricity. his lips find yours as the last parts of your orgasm finally dies.

once he catches his breath, he pulls away smiling down at the way you look effortlessly gorgeous with his cum stuffed in you. you meet his hues too, mirroring the same exact smile. 

your room is dark, curtesy of the snow covering your windows. candles flicker at your nightstand, painting the room in a dim, yellowish hue. fatigue hits you like a train. all you want is to lay down, close your eyes and welcome the sweet relief of slumber. shifting around, you turn on your side body molding perfectly spooning atsumu. 

“sleepy already?” 

the bedsheets shift towards you. despite having your eyes closed, you can feel atsumu’s hues on you watching  the way your eyelashes fall perfectly on your cheek. you’re so warm and soft. effortlessly gorgeous with or without trying. your hair threads down on your pillow, spiraling to an abrupt end. he wants to run his hands through it, massaging at your scalp to sooth the aching.

then he reminds himself he can. when he’s meet with a mumbled response and a slight hum, he takes the hint. in your haze, you feel the weight of his arms wrap around your body cuddling up to you impossibly closer. 

his breath tickles at your neck, “goodnight, baby.”

(atsumu eyes the way you fall lax within his arms. your legs tangled and wrapped within the thick layers of your comforter. his heart beat rapidly and the smile on his face, despite the exhaustion that laces his veins, can't stop. atsumu isn’t an idiot. he knows what all these symptoms mean, but for now that’s a talk for another time. for now, he’ll silently thank whatever god out there for the terrible weather that brought the two of you closer then ever before. for now, he’ll enjoy the way your body molds perfectly to his.)

[stanknotstark]

5 Times You Shared a Bed with Loki and 1 Time You Made an Excuse to Share a Bed

Rubs hands together. Lets do this. 😈 

One

It’s after a battle, to start. 

Everyone is exhausted and Tony spent nearly two hours, two, arguing with the hotel concierge about the rooms. You and everyone else sat in the lobby letting Tony work his magic. 

Tony comes back and gives everyone keys. When he stops in front of you he winces then says, “YouhavetosharearoomwithLoki.”

You blink at Tony slowly and he sighs, rubs a hand over his neck with a grimace on his face. 

“You have to share a room with Loki because you’re the newbie.”

You look at the key card in Tony’s hands, up to Tony’s face, then over at Loki who sits napping while sitting up, his head tilted back on the wall while Thor talks to him about his battle he fought. 

You grab the card from Tony and make your way to the gods. When you reach them you smile at Thor who goes quiet and stare at Loki. Loki who feels someone staring at him squints open one eye to look at you.

“What?” He says, trying to put malice behind it but he’s too tired, it comes out more of a sigh than anything. 

“We’re sharing a room ‘cuz Tony doesn’t like you and I’m the newbie.” 

Loki looks at you for a second, closes his eye, sighs, then opens his eyes and stands. He waves a hand indicating you to lead the way. 

When you both get into the room there’s only one bed causing you and Loki to groan out loud.

“Tony, I swear to god.” You mumble.

“You’ll have to kill him before I do.” Loki says softly, flopping on the left side of the bed. 

You don’t even think that you could call down to the lobby and order a cot. Why did that never cross your mind? In hindsight, you’re happy you didn’t think.

Instead, you strip to your panties and bra and climb into the right side of the bed, facing the wall. You do not care that you’re in your lingerie while sharing a bed with Loki, he can deal with it. You’re tired, don’t have your pajamas on hand, and you refuse to sleep in your suit.

When Loki finally gets up, he magics into pjs, and lifts the covers to see you nearly naked causing him to sigh again. When he’s comfortable under the covers he waves a hand into the air and you gasp as soft silk envelopes your body. 

“Thanks.” You whisper into your pillow, nearly asleep.

Loki hums noncommittally and you both knock out.

Two

You both don’t talk about how you woke up facing each other but completely intertwined by the legs and arms the last time you shared a bed. So, when Tony tells you guys that it’s happening again you both give a little resistance. 

“Listen, I shared a room with him last time, I think we should take turns.” 

“You say that like it was atrocious to share a bed with me!” Loki says, you’re not really sure why he’s affronted you were all pretty tired from the battle today but not enough to be delusional.

“So you want to share a bed with me?” You throw at Loki who actually blushes.

“I didn’t say that!”  

“It’s implied.” Tony throws in with a shrug. 

Loki brings a hand up to his face and covers the irritated look that passes his face. 

“Give me the damn card.” You grumble, swiping the card from Tony’s hand. 

Tony gives you one more pitiful look then wanders off. 

You grab Loki by the arm and pull him along. He gets the point and yanks his arm from your hand but still follows you. 

When the door is closed you shut yourself in the bathroom and let Loki do whatever it is he wants to do in the room.

You close the toilet’s lid and sit there with your head in your hands. 

You’re upset about this whole situation because you actually liked sharing a bed with Loki. He was warm but not overly, so you didn’t sweat when you woke up curled into his chest. When you woke up first, the last time you both shared a bed, you had looked at Loki and really appreciated his smooth features. He was a very handsome man when he wasn’t constantly sneering or frowning at you. Although Loki did arm his insults and sarcasm with barbs you enjoyed the bickering with the god. You liked Loki. 

You liked liked Loki.

Fuck.

You only shared a bed once. What the hell is going on?

Maybe all your interactions had lead up to this and sharing the bed was the tip of the iceberg. 

This is all Tony’s fault, you’ll tear him a new one, you think.

You shake your head, look up at the door and sigh. 

Lets get this over with.

You stand and make your way outside of the bathroom to the bed. Loki lays under the covers staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head.

“Are you finished crying?” Loki asks with animosity.

You chuckle tiredly, “I wasn’t crying, I don’t hate sharing a bed with you, that’s why I spent so much time in there.” You say, starting to pull your clothes off.

When you’re slipping off your pants Loki says, “What?” Without looking at you. 

“I kind of enjoy it, if I’m being honest.” You tell Loki, too tired to hide it anymore. 

When you’re slipping under the covers Loki magics you into the same silk pjs as last time. You give a small thanks that goes unanswered. 

You both lay in the bed, now facing in opposite directions, the lights off. You listen to the shallow breathing from both of you almost ripping through the air. 

Loki makes the first move. You feel him turn around and stare at the back of your head. Then he gets confident and slides across the small space in between you both and brings his chest to your back. He puts one hand under your pillow your head lays on and the other hand slips over your waist. You relax into him and bring your arm to cover his arm over your waist. 

Loki nuzzles into your neck.

“You smell like sweat.” He states after a few moments.

You laugh in shock and kick one of the legs he has intertwined with yours. 

“If you don’t like it you don’t have to cuddle me.”

“I didn’t say I disliked it. It was a mere statement.” Loki says, his breath ghosting over your neck causing you to get chills. 

“Goodnight, asshole.”

Loki chuckles softly but doesn’t answer. 

Three

You both still refuse to talk about what has happened the two times you’ve shared a bed. By the next time you’re having to get a hotel room you both kind of hope you get paired together again. 

Tony comes up to you and looks sheepish.

“Sharing a room again?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

Loki comes out of nowhere and scares you a bit when you feel his presence at your side but you refrain from jumping.

“Yes, but this time I ordered two beds.” Tony says.

You make yourself not deflate in front of Tony and smile at him instead, taking the card with a small thanks. 

You don’t make a comment when Loki is tense beside you. 

However, when you get to the room you smile wide. 

There’s only one bed. 

You look back at Loki who is looking at you with a smirk. 

Loki raises his hand to magic you into pjs but you hold up a finger. “I need a shower first.” You say touching the sticky residue on your suit with a disgusted face.

Loki nods, magics your favorite silk pajamas into his hands then hands them to you to take into the bathroom. 

You gladly take them and quickly shower. Loki figures he wouldn’t mind some hot water to relieve some of the stress from the battle earlier and takes a shower too. 

When Loki comes out of the shower rubbing at his head with a towel, you gasp. He is in nothing but a towel that hangs dangerously low on his hips. You appreciate his lithe form, his creamy chest, the barely there abs. He even has a small happy trail of black hair that leads under the towel.

“Like what you see?” He snickers at your slacked jaw look.

“Is it not obvious enough?” You throw back at him.

Loki shakes his head and turns around. You see him throw the towel for his hair into the corner of the room then he drops the towel on his waist and bares his ass to you. You appreciate it for a second but turn around and face the wall with red cheeks. 

When Loki climbs into the bed and snuggles into you he chuckles at seeing your still red cheeks. 

“You are acting like an absolute virgin, darling.”

You let out a nervous giggle, “It’s not every day I see a god’s naked body, I apologize.”

Loki hums into your damp hair. “I could remedy that.”

You slap Loki’s hand that is wrapped around your waist. 

“Go to sleep.” You tell the god.

“Good night, darling.” 

Four

This time you’re pretty sure Tony does it because he has noticed Loki has become closer to you. Loki had taken to searching you out when he was bored around the tower and while he didn’t interact with you he appreciated your company of being in the same room. 

Tony hands you the card with a smirk. You squint suspiciously at him but take it. You don’t even have to indicate to Loki to follow you, he just does. 

Ok, so you’re realizing things are a little more obvious than originally thought.

When you reach the room you sit on the edge of the bed and look at your hands that fiddle in your lap. 

“Loki?” You say in a small voice.

Loki lets out a sound of inquiry.

“Are-” You frown as you watch your fingers pick and rub your other fingers. “What’s happening?” You finally ask.

“What do you mean, darling?” Loki says as he slips under the covers and looks at your back while propped on his elbow. 

You turn your body so you can face Loki but stay in your spot on the edge of the bed. 

“What’s going on between us?” You ask, biting your lip.

Loki watches as you bite your lip, his eyes flickering to yours when you let go of it.

“If I’m to be honest...I’m not quite sure.” Loki says slowly. 

You frown a little, your eyes looking at Loki but zoned out. You focus on him again when he clears his throat. Loki isn’t looking at you anymore, his other hand is now on top of the covers, playing with a piece of thread, his eyes following his fingers. “I do know I like you more than anyone else on the team. I do not have a bond with anyone else like I do with you. I can back off from these developing emotions if you would prefer?” Loki finishes a little wary.

You can’t help the pitiful sound that leaves your throat at the question. “No! I don’t mind, really,” You reassure when Loki looks at you a little doubtfully, “I just want to know what to label...us as. But I can live without knowing right now.”

Loki stares at you, an unreadable expression on his face but he quickly nods and lifts the covers, indicating for you to get in. 

You stand and undress and join Loki, this time coming to him. When you’re both comfortable you’re facing each other. Your legs tangle with his, rubbing on his legs. your right arm is curled under the pillow and your head, your left makes  a trail on Loki’s chest, exposed from his unbuttoned shirt. 

Loki’s left hand is curled under his pillow like yours, his right comes up to grab your arm, trails up and intertwines his hand with yours and brings it down to the bed, in between you both. 

“Would you mind if my feelings develop into something stronger?” Loki asks, his cool breath fanning over your face you’re so close to him. 

Your eyes flicker to his but end up looking at his facial features, memorizing them as you think. 

“No, I don’t mind.” You whisper. 

Loki hums, his thumb caressing yours under the covers. “I’m assuming you have some feelings of your own?” 

You give a little nod.

“Say it.” Loki demands in a gentle voice. 

You look into his eyes and smile a little. 

“I have feelings for you, Loki.”

Loki doesn’t quite smile but you can see the mirth in his eyes at the returned affection. 

“Go to sleep, we have a early morning ahead of us.” You tell him but don’t close your eyes, you wait for him to close his first. 

When he doesn’t right away you pout. Loki rolls his eyes with a smile but relaxes and closes his eyes. You follow him and both of you fall into sleep quickly, surrounded by warmth and comfort of someone else being there. 

Five 

This time you know Tony deliberately got you a shared room with one bed because you’re next to him when he orders the rooms. When he tells the concierge a room for two, one bed, you open your mouth. You quickly snap it shut when Tony looks at you with a raised brow, challenging you to challenge his decision. 

Loki comes up and asks what the problem is, seeing as you’re glaring at Tony and Tony is now smirking at you. 

“Nothing.” You snap at Loki, nodding your head to the concierge, telling Tony to continue on without words. 

When Tony hands you your card he grabs you, leans in to whisper in your ear, “If I don’t hear you screaming his name out tonight I’m separating you two. It’s time to make it official.”

You gasp, slap Tony in the chest as he backs off with a nod to Loki, still smirking, and goes to give the rest of the team their cards.

As you and Loki ride up in the elevator Loki questions you. 

“What did Tony tell you?” He asks

“Nothing important, he was just being an ass.” You give up lamely. You can tell Loki is even more curious now but you’re thankful he doesn’t push it.

Instead when you’re in the room you hesitate to undress yourself because your mind is revolving around the whole sex thing Tony brought up.

Loki obviously notices your hesitation because he points it out. “Tony said something that has obviously upset you. If it upsets you it concerns me. Tell me what he said.”

“It’s-” You sigh, bring a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes. “He made a sex joke and now I can’t help but think of you expecting sex out of this right now.”

Loki doesn’t say anything from his side of the bed. So, you drop your hand and look at him. He stands there with a raised brow but otherwise his face is passive. 

“Look, I want sex with you, in time, but right now the whole subject makes me a little jumpy because I just don’t connect with people this fast and it makes me a little dizzy with how fast I’m starting to like you, like really like you and listen can you please say something so I’ll shut up?” You gasp out. 

Loki chuckles, shaking his head he runs a hand through his hair then looks back up to you and finally speaks. 

“While I do want sex out of this I will not push you, I do not expect it, I would rather wait till you’re confident in your choice because I want you to want me... Not to do something about the situation because someone else thinks you should be doing it.”

As Loki speaks you feel yourself relaxing, enough so to start undressing again. As you’re pulling your shirt off you smile at Loki. 

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

“I’m concerned that you’re calling me perfect for something men should do, and say, without hesitation.”

You laugh a little breathlessly, you’re in the middle of falling for Loki, harder. “Ya, no, men here on Earth can be total d-bags about sex. You’re perfect.”

Loki scoffs, “As long as you don’t compare me to those men then we shall be fine.” He says as you both climb into bed and meet in the middle.

You’re a little too excited about the whole situation and as you reach Loki push into him to kiss him but you end up just hitting your face on his. Loki pulls back with a disgruntled look and you bring a hand up to hold your hurting face.

“Ow.”

Loki blows breath out of his nose and lightly grabs the hand over your face. You look at him as he pulls your hand under the covers and then brings his other hand up to cup your jaw.

“I believe this is what you were trying to do?” Loki asks as he leans in to your face slowly. 

You can’t help but stare at his pink lips. He’s obviously going slow to give you an out but you glance to his eyes and see hesitation which causes you to lean in and capture his lips first, to show you want this, that you’re confident in your choice right now.

When your lips meet sparks don’t fly, you don’t naturally know how to kiss him just how he likes, the kiss is anything but elegant. However, when your lips meet you do melt inside, your body feels weak, your stomach has so many butterflies it makes you jittery, and you’re sure you would love to do this more so you could learn how to please Loki in every way possible. 

You both pull from the kiss and Loki looks at you with adoration. You’re not sure what you look at him with, you’re still a bit dizzy, but it makes him smile as his thumb caresses your cheek. 

“Good?” He whispers over your lips.

“Good.” You say in a small voice.

“Would you mind if I did it again?” Loki asks.

You feel yourself come back from cloud 9 and smirk at him. 

“I wouldn’t be adverse to trying it again.” You say, almost in a sing-song voice. 

Loki rolls his eyes, causing you to snicker, but he takes your lips into his again.

You both don’t get much sleep to say the least. 

+ One

Things aren’t actually official but everybody knows because Loki is touching you a lot more. Not PDA per se, rather they notice that when he walks past you he will let a hand glide over the small of your back. When you stand near each other his pinky will search your hand out and purposely give small caresses. He also never fails to catch you when you fall during missions. He’s hovering a bit. 

It’s obvious. 

But Tony wasn’t lying about that whole sex thing apparently.

That pisses you off but you don’t say anything because it’s not necessarily official.

“You have your own room.” Tony says, giving you your card with nonchalance. 

You quickly find Loki’s eyes, he’s a few feet away talking with Thor but stops talking at your worried look. He makes his way to you and Tony.

“Ah! Perfect, here’s your room card.” Tony exclaims, slamming the card to Loki’s chest a little too aggressive but quickly moves on to the rest of the team.

Loki frowns down at the card in his hands then up to you with a blank face. You look back at him but say nothing. 

Both of you head to the elevator and when you reach your floor first, you don’t move to get out of the elevator. Instead you both stand there in silence staring at your cards. 

Loki is the one to break the silence. “You know, an enemy might know our location and attack at a moments notice. I could stay in your room to better protect you if such an occurrence should happen.”

You let a wide smile break out over your face. You look at Loki. “I think I would feel better if you stayed with me. I don’t want to get hurt, you have a point.”

Loki smiles quickly and presses the button to open the elevator doors that had fallen shut, leaning across your front and as the doors open he looks back and smirks at you, leans back and holds out a hand for you to lead the way. 

You both make your way to your room a little too excited and a little too fast but neither of you will speak up on the matter. 

After tonight, you both decide it’s best to make it official. 

[elftwink]

no thoughts only taakitz superhero/villain coffeeshop au. taako’s power is shapeshifting but he has a cool gun from lup. kravitz’s power is Big Fuckin Scythe With Unspecified Abilities. also there was no time to get into it but fantasy starbucks isn’t a real starbucks it’s a borderline illegal unaffiliated bootleg starbucks that taako and lup own. like dumb starbucks was.

By all rights, it should have been a fairly routine night for the Reaper. Go out, stop some crimes, arrive just in time to prevent whatever scheme the Mongoose had cooked up this week, exchange some one liners, make some threats that essentially amounted to ‘same time next week?’, the works. A regular Tuesday as a superhero in Neverwinter.

But Kravitz is tired, and more than a little distracted, so he’s not doing so hot on the one liners, and the Mongoose’s attacks are a little closer than they would normally be. He doesn’t even have a good excuse, it’s not like he’s injured, or that he has anything pressing to think of.

It was just— this morning his barista (who he may or may not have been harbouring a small crush on) had mentioned offhand that he thought the Reaper was ‘probably hot under the stupid all-black getup’, and Kravitz didn’t really know what the protocol was for someone complimenting your alter-ego was.

“I think if you were gonna go for the strong silent type, you had to start doing it months ago. Now it’s just acting like an asshole. Are you mad at me?” the Mongoose cuts into his thoughts, firing off another few missiles from his stupid umbrella gun (Umbrastaff, he called it, although it was a gun and not a staff so Kravitz had no idea why he insisted on calling it that).

“We are literally fighting as we speak,” says Kravitz, playing up the cockney accent, spinning his scythe to deflect the missiles off the blade, sending them ricocheting around the room. He’d said something like ‘how can you tell’ to Taako— the barista (well, they’d been on a first name basis for a few weeks, so, Taako), and he’d said ‘I can just tell’ which was not at all helpful in getting Kravitz through the conversation without saying or doing something to give himself away.

He’d almost given Taako his number, but how was he going to justify that? Hey, it’s me under the all black getup. Do you want to go out sometime? As if.

“You can have fights without being fuckin’ rude,” says the Mongoose, firing off another few rounds, which Kravitz deflects again, advancing on him.

“You’re right, sorry. I’m a bit scattered. Not exactly my A game.” As if to prove his point, the Mongoose easily dodges his next couple swings with the scythe, not even bothering to leave his range.

“Clearly. I mean, normally you’re at least close enough that I can feel the breeze from your sword.”

“It’s not a sword, and you know that.” Kravitz brings down the scythe in the space where the Mongoose was only seconds before, having already backflipped out of the way and landed a few metres back. Show off. Not that Kravitz had room to complain about that. The Mongoose spins to face him again, at least this time seemingly aware of what a close call that was. He’s tense, and his hair, which Kravitz supposes has thus far been hidden underneath his costume, has come somewhat unravelled, black braid falling to the middle of his back.

It seems... familiar?

He doesn’t have time for that right now. Kravitz draws back the scythe, feeling the hum of energy under his fingers, swinging again, and—

“Wait! Time out!” the Mongoose puts up a hand and Kravitz, for who knows what reason, stops his scythe mid-swing. The familiarity sticks, so it’s not just a trick of the light. It takes him a second to place, but the hairstyle... it looks a lot like a certain barista he’d been spending all night thinking about.

He shakes his head, trying to clear it. It’s because he has Taako on the brain, is all. Besides, he has other things to worry about besides seeing his crush in his enemy. Namely the fight currently happening with said enemy. “What? You can’t call a time out.”

“I just did,” says the Mongoose, fishing through his pockets and pulling out several bobby pins, sticking them in his mouth so he can use both hands to fix his hair. Kravitz blinks, still trying to shake off the sense of deja vu, but it won’t quit nagging him. “It’s a whole safety issue to leave long hair down.”

“It’s still in a braid,” retorts Kravitz.

“Somebody never took Foodsafe.” the Mongoose gives him a lopsided grin that Kravitz fucking knows he’s seen before, and suddenly it’s more than just passing familiarity, and how could he possibly have not noticed before, and— the Mongoose finishes putting up his hair, raising an eyebrow at Kravitz and his private crisis. “Alright. Ready—”

“You work at Fantasy Starbucks,” blurts Kravitz, without even thinking about it. The Mongoose stops dead in his tracks, and Kravitz can see his eyes widen even behind the mask. He splutters for a moment, and then seems to find his footing, already ready with a snarky remark.

“Yeah, well— your accent is fake.”

Shit. He’d forgotten. At the only time so far that having it would have been useful too. Still, he pushes it out of his mind; the Mongoose hadn’t denied it. And, well, he’s already solidly derailed this fight, so he might as well get some real confirmation out of it.

“...Taako? It is you, isn’t it?”

“Just who the fuck are y—” The Mongoose— Taako— levels the Umbrastaff at him, and then stops again. “...Kravitz?”

Well. Shit. Again. Kravitz doesn’t bother to affirm that; his silence is more than enough confirmation. One of them has to say or do something, but the seconds stretch on.

“You’re telling me I said all that shit to your face this morning?” says Taako.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

“Uh, yeah—” Taako is backing up now, and they’ve fought enough times that Kravitz knows when the Mongoose is looking for an escape route; Kravitz’s feet still feel glued to the floor, even when Taako reaches the window, fingers already turning to talons around the Umbrastaff. Taako breaks the glass (because of course he does, even though the windows aren’t even fucking locked), breaking eye contact with Kravitz in order to swing his legs through the window before his form changes too much. “Look, this is like, a lot right now, and I— I’m getting the fuck out of here,” he says, and then drops. Whatever had been keeping Kravitz in place, slack jawed, ends as soon as Taako leaves his sight, and he’s moving before he has time to think about it.

“Wait—!” Kravitz runs for the window, but by the time he gets there, the bird clutching the Umbrastaff is nearly out of sight.

Well. That could have gone better.

***

Kravitz doesn’t go for his coffee the next day. Or the next day, either, although the day after that he’s sick of making his own coffee. And frankly, he misses chatting with Taako. Even if the guy was trying to kill him like once a week. He couldn’t just avoid this forever.

Still, the fact that Taako is working cash when he comes in makes him want to turn tail and run back home. He conjures up the memory of yesterday’s shitty coffee and pushes onward. The shop is mostly empty still, so there’s no line.

“The usual?” says Taako, like nothing abnormal has happened.

“Please,” says Kravitz, and then, before he can chicken out entirely, adds, “Uhm, do you have a few minutes?”

“My shift isn’t over until—”

“I’ll cover you,” comes Lup’s voice from the back room; she pokes her head out and gives Taako a look that is clearly significant, but that Kravitz can’t quite puzzle out. “Take five minutes after you’re done making his coffee.”

Taako scowls at her, and she smiles brightly before heading to the back again.

“Okay. I guess I have five minutes. Talk to you after I make your coffee.”

Kravitz nods, and goes to hover around the pickup counter, pretending to be interested in things on his phone. Taako makes his coffee in a ceramic mug, which at least means he doesn’t want Kravitz to get the fuck out as soon as possible, so that’s... something.

Taako slides the finished coffee across the counter, circling around to join Kravitz on the customer side as Kravitz grabs the mug.

“Lup!” he hollers, and then starts walking towards one of the corner booths without checking to see if his sister is headed to cash or if Kravitz is following. Kravitz does, though, sliding himself into the seat opposite Taako, hands wrapped tightly around the mug.

Taako speaks first. “To be honest, I kinda thought you would rat me out.”

“That would be shitty of me, to just sic authorities on your place of work without so much as a warning.”

“So is this the warning?”

“No,” says Kravitz, taking a sip of his coffee, “I... can’t really make coffee without burning it. And this is the only place for miles with tolerable muffins.”

Taako cracks a grin, like Kravitz knew he would. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” His smile falls, and he crosses his arms and leans back. “So. Reaper. Why didn’t you rat me out?”

Why indeed. Kravitz takes another sip of his coffee and thinks for a second, not even sure himself what his explanation will be once he starts talking.

“It didn’t seem... fair. You’re less of a villain and more of a pain in my ass—” Kravitz ignores Taako’s indignant noise and keeps talking, “—and while we always have cause to fight when on the clock, you’re not doing anything that I feel needs to leave the bounds of those... work hours, I guess.”

Taako is trying to pick him apart with his gaze; it’s something he’s been subjected to several times, although normally in costume, and in retrospect it’s difficult to imagine how he spent so long not noticing the Mongoose in Taako.

Whatever Taako is looking for, he must find it, because he relaxes a bit, and shoots him a lazy grin. “Plus, Mongoose related insurance just got rolling and it would be fuckin’ rude to take me out of commission before anyone got to use theirs.”

Kravitz laughs. “Sure.” He’s silent for a second, before adding, “You aren’t planning on revealing my secret identity, are you? Awfully rude of you to double cross me like that.”

“Wha— You didn’t even give me a chance to respond! Maybe I wasn’t!”

“Were you?”

“I was,” admits Taako, not even pretending to look sheepish. Kravitz raises his eyebrows, and Taako shrugs. “Oh, like you didn’t think about revealing my secret identity? And could you imagine the hype if I unmasked the Reaper? I was tempted.” He sighs. “But I figured then you’d have no reason to keep my identity a secret. No way am I risking a backfire like that.”

It sounds callous, but Kravitz has been talking to Taako almost daily for months; at this point, he can pretty reliably pick up on when Taako isn’t being entirely truthful about something.

“Hmm. Then I suppose it’d be in my best interest not to tell you that I wouldn’t reveal your identity even if you revealed mine?”

Taako narrows his eyes. “Why not?”

Kravitz makes a face. “It’s just in poor taste. I just think we all go through all the trouble to hide who we are and use these powers for good— or whatever it is you do— that it’s always going to be such a low blow to reveal who we are. There might be times where it’s necessary, but petty revenge is not one of them.”

Taako’s expression hasn’t changed; if anything, he’s narrowed his eyes more. “God, you are like— fuckin’ irritatingly nice. Fine. I wasn’t going to reveal your identity. That would be fuckin’ annoying to deal with. Plus I’m having fun.”

“Fun?”

“Oh don’t— don’t fucking lie to me. I know you’re having fun out there too. With your stupid accent and one liners and shit.”

“Alright, alright,” says Kravitz, rolling his eyes. “But I’m not supposed to be having fun, so keep it quiet.”

“See, that’s why I market myself as a villain. No dumb rules.” He puts an elbow on the table and leans on his hand. “Why do you have a fake accent anyway?”

Heat rises to Kravitz’s face, and he’s hoping he looks less embarrassed than he feels. “It’s my— I do it so people don’t recognize my voice.”

Taako laughs. “Well, it doesn’t really do that if you immediately stop using it when you realize you might know someone.”

“I was caught off guard!” defends Kravitz. “It’s not every day you find out your nemesis is your barista.”

“Nemesis, huh?” Taako grins. “Didn’t realize it was that serious to you. You know I have other heroes to fight.”

Kravitz rolls his eyes again. “I don’t see how you have the time, considering how often you’re causing trouble for me.”

Taako laughs, and it’s so contagious and the whole conversation is so surreal Kravitz can’t help but laugh too, before they both lapse into a comfortable, if drawn out, silence.

“So, uh,” says Taako eventually, “what now?”

“Well,” says Kravitz, “I want to keep coming in for coffee in the mornings. And I assume the Mongoose will continue with... whatever chaos it is you currently have planned.”

“It’s not chaos,” insists Taako, “I have plans. But yeah. And I assume the Reaper is gonna show up and throw a wrench in those plans?”

“Yes, probably. So we’ll just be enemies by night...” Kravitz trails off, not entirely sure how to refer to their by day relationship. Friends? Potential love interests? Acquaintances? There’s a few seconds of awkward silence before Kravitz gives up entirely.

Taako pulls and pen and a napkin out of his pocket, jotting something down and pushing it towards Kravitz.

“Here’s, uh, here’s my number. If you give me a heads up five minutes before you get here, we can have your coffee ready by the time you walk in. If you’re nice to me out there.”

“I don’t take bribes,” says Kravitz, grabbing the napkin and pulling out his phone to type in the number.

“That wasn’t a bribe, it was a threat. You don’t even wanna know what I’ll do to your coffee if you fuck me up.”

Kravitz doesn’t bother to point out that neither of them have ever caused any extreme bodily harm to one another and instead says, “So you’re asking me to go easy on you? I thought you were having fun.” He sends Taako a ‘hey it’s kravitz’ text before he has time to second guess himself.

“Could you stop poking holes in my threats? You’re harshing my fuckin’ vibe, Krav.” He sounds irritated, but Kravitz can see the smile tugging at his lips as he texts Kravitz a couple of skull emojis. “I should get back to work before my sister kicks my ass,” he says, standing back up. “I’ll see you tonight, nemesis.” Then he turns on his heels and heads back to the counter, saying something to Lup as he walks by. Kravitz watches him disappear into the back room.

Tonight.

Kravitz had better make sure he had hung his cloak up to dry.

[cow-smells]

Party Favors (Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz / reader)

Request:  Can I have one for a Hawk smut where he’s having a little pool party and  the reader is usually always wearing modest/baggy clothing but she wore  a pretty sexy bikini to the party and everybody is shocked cuz she is  hiding a super nice body under all those clothing. Hawk gets a boner  seeing her and has to go inside the house to fix his problem and the  reader goes inside the house and catches him and offers him some help  and he’s shocked because she seems innocent. Basically a version of that  fast time at ridgemont high bikini scene lol  (for: @le-fashionmwah )​  

A/N: there’s been an influx of requests for Hawk smut so I really hope this hits the spot lol. felt really dirty writing this even tho its probs not that bad?? idk. lemme know. also, for some reason i only looked up that scene/movie halfway in to writing this, so i hope this is somewhat what you visioned

Words: 1582

Warnings: nsfw :)

Read on AO3

It had been a couple of months since your family moved to California, and you were loving it.

You befriended the Cobra Kais as soon as you started school and they had invited you to a pool party today at Sam's house.

You were a little bit reluctant to go at first, preferring to keep your weekends to yourself, reading a good book all curled up in one of the over sized hoodies you usually wore; that was, until Hawk came along.

    “Come on,” he whined to you a couple of days earlier. “Miguel's going to be all up in Sam's ass and I'll be bored as hell. You gotta come keep me company.”

You hated to admit it, but you were putty in his hands. You were nursing an ever growing crush on Hawk from the moment you first layed eyes on him; so naturally, you were easily convinced. You were desperate to make a move on him, but you were still new and friendless other then the Cobra Kais; you feared making a wrong move and losing them all.

    That is how you came to find yourself in Sam's back yard, trying to recognize familiar faces. You arrived with Miguel who as per Hawks prediction quickly abandoned you to chase after Sam, leaving you to fend for yourself. You scanned the yard filled with your peers; you couldn't recognize anyone – at least, not by name. Taking your phone out of your hoodie, you tried calling Hawk to no avail. He didn't pick up.

Assuming he wasn't answering because he was driving over (you didn't want to think he might have decided to pass on the party after convincing you to come), you decided to do the only thing there was left to do at a pool party – go for a swim.

    You took a deep breath and took hold of your over sized hoodie, pulling it up and off of you, leaving you in nothing but the new bikini you got just for this (and maybe, just maybe, for Hawk too).

    You didn't notice the many pairs of eyes that were suddenly focused on you.

Embracing the carefree air of the party, you jumped in to the deep end of the pool, letting your body sink for a moment before propelling yourself up to breathe. The cold water woke up your senses, letting you forget about your previous shyness if only a little. You swam to the edge of the pool and pushed yourself up to sit on the ledge.

    “You're the new girl,” a voice suddenly asked. Looking aside, it was a boy you recognized from English class. He allowed himself to take a seat by you. “sit behind me in English, right?”

    “Yeah,” you smile, happy to have been noticed. You two go on with your small talk for a little while until an extremely recognizable figure walked out the house.

    “Hawk!” you called, more eager than you probably should have. You excused yourself from the boy who acted as a pleasant distraction, rising to your feet and making your way over to him, your bikini dripping heavily.

    It took Hawk a heavy moment until he responded, his jaw slightly slacked as you came to stand in front of him.

    “Hi,” he finally said, feeling his mouth dry. Hawk had to train his eyes intensely on yours, lest they venture downwards.

    “Took you long enough,” you tease, nudging his arm playfully. “oh, sorry,” you apologize at seeing the spot you touched become dark with moisture. “I'm wet.”

    Yes, you are, Hawk thought to himself.

A slight gust of wind hits you, and you cross your arms under your chest, trying to preserve your heat.

    Hawk looks aside bashfully, heart pounding at your now even-further pronounced breasts. “I, um,” he mutters, “forgot my bike running. I'll be right back.”

Without a second glance to you, Hawk leaves in a rush.

You see him through a window and to your surprise, he doesn't leave the house. He detours to a bathroom.

You felt confused and slightly offended – what was the rush to leave you like that, after you greeted him so publicly too? Was he... embarrassed to be seen with you?

The negative thoughts began plaguing your mind; there was only one way to settle this, you decided. With that, you entered the house to confront him.

    You're two steps in to the living room when Moon gets an eyeful of you. “Damn, Y/n!” she surveys your scantily clad body with a grin. “You were hiding that under all those layers? Good for you, girl,” she winks. Your quest to Hawk continues with reddened cheeks and a little grin.

    You reach the bathroom you saw Hawk enter and knock, calling his name.

    “What?” Hawk replies, his voice strained and perhaps agitated.

    “I'm coming in,” you declare boldly, turning the door handle and prying it open.

    “No, don't -” Hawk begins, but it's too late. You're already in.

Hawk's face is red, his shirt is tousled – which brings your eyes down to his unbuttoned jeans, and a prominent bulge coming from them.

    Your eyes widen as you realize what you just walked in to. “Oh.”

Hawk looks just about ready to bury himself alive. “Would you get out already?”

You space out for a moment as your brain runs through the course of events. He walked in, saw you, left with a boner.

    Huh.

    “I can leave,” you finally reply. “or,” his eyes lighten in confusion. “I can help you out.”

    “Help – help me out?” Hawk stutters and he scolds himself for acting so timidly, like Eli rather than Hawk. He needed to regain control of the situation.

You shut the bathroom door, making sure to lock it. Walking up close to him, Hawk looks down at you, trying so hard to regain his composure. You sink down to your knees.

    He nearly protests, cowers away, asks what you're doing. But then he doesn't. He's Hawk, and Hawk doesn't back away when the girl he's infatuated with is eye-level with his dick. He stays put. He takes control.

Your hand goes to caress his hardness over his clothes. Hawk one-ups you and pushes his jeans and boxers down, revealing himself to you completely. His hand weaves through your hair, letting him see your expression better.

He's worried, for a moment, that he might have taken things too far, read you incorrectly. A thought that's quick to leave his mind once your tongue is on his tip.

    He thinks his heart might actually beat out of his chest. He would have never, not in his wildest dreams, be able to imagine this scenario happening in real life. Although he wanted you for a while now, he didn't think you returned his feelings. Besides that, you were usually modest, you clothing hiding your body under it and you never flirting with anyone. He'd never peg you for the type to go down on him in a bathroom during a party with half your school year just out the door.

    Hawk groans as you slide your tongue from his tip to his balls, cupping them in your hand. It's nearly overwhelming to him when you spit in your hand and begin to pump his shaft.

Hawks grip on your hair tightens; you take him in your mouth. Hawk can't help the throaty moan that leaves him as you take him as deeply as you can, hollowing your cheeks as you pull away.

His free hand comes behind your head and his fingers find the strings holding up your bikini, which he allows himself to pull on until they sever and the top of your bikini comes loose.

    Finally taking control, Hawk uses his grip on your hair to guide you on and off his dick, making you take him deeply enough you have to relax your throat to accommodate him.

    “You're such a good girl for me,” Hawk groans as he gazes down at you with his dick in your warm mouth. “you take me so well.”

Your heart swells at the compliment, at the clear pleasure you're bringing him.

    Hawks moans rise in volume and his hips rut gently forward while he holds your head in place. Without warning a gust of warm liquid pools in your mouth. Hawk pulls out and before you can think to move he cums, white strands painting your lips and cheeks before dripping down to your bare breasts.

You swallow what made it to your mouth and look at Hawk towering above you. He looked absolutely spent... and content.

Hawk helped you to your feet, this time allowing himself to stare at you to his hearts content. He helped you clean off your face before taking it in his hands and kissing you deeply. You couldn't believe you had managed to do all that before sharing your first kiss.

Breaking apart, Hawk lets his hands skim down your body, his thumbs flicking your nipples playfully before taking hold of your bikini strings and tying them back up behind your neck, leaving your breasts still covered with his cum underneath the fabric.

He finished tying the knot, kissing you once more. “You're my girl now.”

There's a question there, beneath the deceleration, so you nod. Feeling bolder than before, Hawk holds your hand as he leads you back to the pool.

[madswritingvoid]

Forgiveness

Pairing: Shane “Dio” Morrissey x f!reader

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst/Fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, Dio being rude

A/N: Hi Anon! Hope this is something close to what you were looking for, I’m still new to angsty things but I hope you enjoy xxxx

Two weeks.

He hasn’t seen you or heard from you in two weeks. You’ve been together a whole year and this is the longest he’s been away from you, and it’s all his fault.

As he stares into his third cup of shitty black coffee, this diner isn’t as good as your usual haunt, he wonders if you’re even still together anymore? Will he ever get to hold you again? Kiss you? Touch you? Picking at his chipped black nail polish he goes over that night again and again in his head. The sun making the rings adorning his hands sparkle, the skull band you got him for your one-year anniversary offering a mocking smile.

He’d been spending a lot more time at the club lately, more time as Dio and not Shane. Being the Goth King of New York City, loved by the endless hoards of drones, and not as Shane - your boyfriend who went record shopping with you, made vampire fangs out of pretzel sticks to make you laugh, the man you love. Loved?

“What do you mean you’re heading out?” Your voice is small as you stop working on dinner to face him. He doesn’t answer at first, working on fixing the collar of his leather duster and making sure each chain around his neck is perfect, raven locks properly messed up. “Exactly what I said. I am going out, heading somewhere that is not here,” he shrugs at his reflection, still not meeting your eyes.

You scoff, “don’t talk to me like that Shane. I’m not an idiot, ” you walk up to him and place a hand on his shoulder, pushing against him so he’ll turn around and finally meet your eyes. “This is the first time in two weeks you said you’d be home, I rented Interview With The Vampire and made dinner,” you gesture to the meal simmering on your small stove. He shrugs again and takes a step away from you, “what do you want me to say? That I’d rather stay here then go out? Maybe if you had got a better movie I’d stay, but -” Your eyes narrow and you cross your arms over your chest, hip cocked to the side, ready for whatever comes next.

“Since when is that a problem? Since when do you spend every night at the club and act like staying in with me for one night is so painful?” You go out with him sometimes, of course you also like having fun, but you hate how he has to be so different when you’re out. He isn’t as affectionate, barely holding your hand as his admirers swarm around you both. At least when you’re home together or just go out for a relaxing date, you can see how free Shane is. He’s excitable, romantic, always insisting on buying you a little trinket from somewhere to commemorate the date to display in your home.

“Since you’re uninspired! When I go to the club, people made me realize how you’re not with it,” he throws his hands up. You’re stunned, since when did he give a shit about what anyone thinks about you?He said he loved that you’re not exactly like him. “You don’t get it. There they want my attention, crave my approval. You’re just here, going with the motions. I didn’t realize I’ve been wasting so much time with a drone,” he sneers, “so sorry if I don’t give a shit about Tom Cruise in a wig.”

He laughs, “oh what? Now you’re mad? Over movie night?” You’re shaking your head, looking at him but not recognizing the look in his eyes, the eyes you adore. “Why are you being like this? You may have everyone at that club thinking your shit doesn’t stink, but don’t you dare act like you’re too good for me. We share a bathroom,” you smirk. He bristles, yeah maybe he’s wrong. A movie night with you is better than going to the club, but he can do whatever he wants and shouldn’t have to explain himself to you. A King shouldn’t have to explain to anyone.

“Shut up, you think you’re being so clever. But we both know you’re not, always so afraid of what people are thinking about you, about what I think about you,” he sneers. “I said I didn’t want to watch a movie, I want to go to the club, that’s the end of this discussion and you can apologize to me when I come back,” with that he gives you a once over before nodding a bit, deciding he’s done with this conversation.

“Then don’t come back.” You whisper, your voice low but strong. “Get the fuck out Dio,” you growl, you never call him Dio, “I don’t know where this is coming from, but you will not speak to me like that. I love you, but I do not deserve to be treated like this. Not by anyone.” He’s just staring at you, slack jawed. Sure, you’ve had fights before, but it’s never felt like this. So final. Now he scoffs and takes a step towards you, “where am I supposed to go?”

Your eyes harden, “I’m sure the King won’t be left stranded, someone willing to give you everything you’re obviously missing here.” He heads for the door, hearing you finally start to break down as the door shut behind him.

That was it. He tried coming home after his night out but the door was locked, and you didn’t leave his key under your welcome mat like you always did. He slept in the hallway until he woke up to you throwing a bag of his clothes on him, slamming the door shut without a word. It feels like he’s in some shitty movie, just scenes of him sleeping on a different couch flashing by as he thinks about how much he loves you.

He didn’t deserve you. You saw past Dio, and wanted to know Shane, love Shane. You’d dye is hair black when his roots came in and painted his nails while watching some shitty horror movie, always happy to do the little things to make his day easier. You didn’t seek his approval but valued his opinion as your partner, your equal. He didn’t have to be “on” when he was with you, just Shane. And he fucking missed it.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he grumbles to himself. Throwing down the cash for his coffee, plus a tip (another thing you made sure he did), he went about his new mission. He hit up all your favourite stores, not that you were someone who could be bought, but he made a small basket of things he remembered you saying you loved or were running low on. Things that would show you he listened.

He knew you were home, could hear The Smiths bleeding into the hallway as he got closer to your door and sighed, you onto turned to Morrissey when it was bad. Shuffling his care package in his hands he knocks firmly to cut through “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out”. Shane knows you heard him because it’s suddenly quiet on the other side of the door and the soft sounds of you shushing a meowing Lucifer get closer. He isn’t sure if you looked through the peephole with how quickly you appear in front of him, but the hard look in your eyes says otherwise.

“No,” is all you say. Shane’s knees feel like they’re about to buckle, seeing you for the first time in so long, all he can focus on is how beautiful you are. He wants to drop to his knees right there, bury his face in your stomach as he cries his apologies. But that’s not what you needed. “Please, please let me just apologize,” he pleads, “I was an asshole, a real jerk, a-” you cut him off with a hand over his mouth. “Yes, you were those things then and are probably still those things now, come in and we’ll talk even if you don’t deserve it.”

Following you into the apartment like a puppy dog, Shane waits for you to motion to the couch to take a seat. Lucifer hopping up beside him immediately, happy to see him. “So, what is supposed to be happening here?” You’re rubbing in between your eyes, already wanting Shane gone. You missed him so much, like your heart had been ripped out of your chest, but you deserved an apology and you didn’t think “Dio” would ever admit to being wrong. “What is happening here, is that I’m an asshole,” he says confidently causing you to freeze. 

“These two weeks have been torture, I feel like I’m a hollow shell just waiting to be sucked into the black hole of nothingness. You are my heart, my everything. You deserve the world, and not some asshole telling you that you’re a drone when you are everything. You are all I want and I don’t deserve you, I know that, but please let me try to show you,” he puts the care basket on the table, “please let me be worthy of your love again.” You cautiously start to ruffle through the basket, eyes watering as you realize what’s inside. Taking a deep breath you meet his eyes, glassy with unshed tears. “Shane. I love you, I love you so much it hurts. But you can’t talk to me or anyone like that. You’re so much better than whatever the fuck that was. I am willing to try and work through this, but it will take time. I deserve better,” you sit beside him finally, taking one of his hands in yours.

“Anything,” he promises, dropping to his knees in front of you. “Anything you want or need me to do, I’m ready to do it. I want to be good for you, show you the love you deserve,” he’s kissing your joined hands. He wants to say more but the tears he’s been holding in finally fall and he buries his face in your lap. You free one hand to start stroking his hair and kissing his temple. “We’ll just take it one step at a time,” you soothe.

 “Whatever you want, my queen, my soul, whatever you want.”

[zaikaglow]

Umbrageous Part 5

Pairing: Levi x Reader, Erwin x Reader, mention of Hange x Reader and Eren x Reader

Summary: Hange makes good on their promise to introduce you to Mr.Ackerman but you worry that your trail of conquests are going to start catching up with you

Content Warnings: Step dad! Erwin, cheating, pseudoincest, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving) 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 

It was around 4pm when you were again sitting at your vanity, wearing a form fitting little black dress putting on the finishing touches. A pair of diamond earrings that Erwin had given you for your birthday, you finish adorning your ear and remember the trouble these little rocks had caused. You had sworn your mom had caught onto your little affair with daddy when she wouldn’t stop commenting on “how nice those earrings were, maybe a little too nice for a girl that young, how much did they cost? Have you ever gotten me Jewelry that nice”. You chuckle to yourself at the memory when there's a knock at the door. Then it opens, of course it was Erwin he never waited for responses he just let himself right in “Y/n I'm going to be out tonight… where are you going?” he seems taken back a little trying to figure out just where you’d be going dressed as nicely as you were. Certainly not a nightclub, maybe on a date with the Jaeger boy? No you wouldn’t put in that much effort for him, it was obvious you saw him as a toy that you were slowly getting bored of. You meet his eyes in the mirror “Oh same place as you are daddy, that little work soiree, your partner's client Hange is taking me” you finish with a delicate smile. Erwin leans onto the door frame his voice is low, almost like a growl “and what did you do to get them to bring you as their date?”. You can’t help but to laugh “come on daddy, do you think i'm a little whore? Maybe they just think I’m a promising young women and are interested in my potential” you can see Erwin start to relax right as there's a knock on the door grabbing your jacket you get up to go downstairs and meet your date for the night but not before making one last comment as you slide past Erwin’s frame “oh and by the way Hange’s cum tastes a hell of a lot better than yours maybe you should ask them for their secret”. You sway, practically dancing down the hall to the stairs all while Erwin is staring slack jawed, having trouble comprehending what a little whore his sweet princess was.

“So are you ready my dear?” Hange smiles at you, their arm around your shoulders “don’t be nervous I already told you he looks scary but actually he’s a softy underneath”. You bite down on your bottom lip as you start to play with your thumbs “you sure he’d even be interested in someone like me?” you say nervously glancing at Hange looking for reassurance. Normally you were so confident when it came to pulling men but something about Levi was different, he was so aloof, so pretty, it made you nervous about trying to even approach him. “That tiny asshole won’t say it but he’s lonely, trust me just come on a little softer than you did to me and a girl as pretty as you will have him eating out of your hands. Okay here we go, just remember the plan” Hange finishes as they continue to walk you away from the party and over to a secluded area where you see Levi sitting by himself at one of the tables that were set up sitting with his legs crossed and balancing a book on his knee. “Leevvii!” he glances up at the two of you cocking a brow when his eyes meet yours. “Levi, you remember y/n? Of course you do! Well, she told me she doesn’t normally drink but I convinced them to try a gin and tonic and now they're not feeling too hot, you mind watching over them for a bit? Erwin’s busy mingling with more clients and I should join and I think they’d feel the safest with you” Hange ushers you into the chair next to Levi giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze in an attempt to say good luck while they start to run off back into the crowd. “Don’t tell me you're sick after only one drink” Levi says, eyes now glued back to the page. God why the fuck does he make you so nervous “no not like to much to drink sick it just made me feel kinda off”. Levi’s gaze drifts away from the book and back to you “and Hange thought I would make you feel safe?” he says his eyes look like questioning like he can’t believe that it was true. “Oh well it’s just there's so many strangers here and you were really nice when we met last week, and you don’t give me the creeps like some of the men here” your head is down but out of the corner of your eye you can start to see a red spread across his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. Hange was right, all you had to do was flatter him and he’d be eating out of the palm of your hand they said. So many women would dismiss him based on height alone, something like a comment about “making you feel safe” would definitely go straight to his head. “Um Levi, could you help me find some water?” he looks towards the crowd seeing how packed the bar was with all those “strange men” that you claimed to not be comfortable around. “I-if you're okay w-with it I have some water bottles in my office u-upstairs” he stutters out. Dam Hange was right, maybe this Mr.Ackerman wasn’t going to be as difficult as you thought. Still sitting down you offer him your hand and he grabs it in a feather light grip, like he was afraid you’d break, and you're thankful because when you turn your head back you can see Eren walking through the crowd looking like a lost puppy. Dammit he’s definitely looking for you, Erwin probably called him to come to keep your head out from between his clients legs.

Levi’s office was similar to Erwins, except it was much cleaner. Not that Erwin was a slob but Levi’s office had a smell of disinfectant and it looks like it was almost brand new. Levi goes and opens the bottom drawer of his desk and instead of being littered with random papers and trinkets it was well organized containing a case of bottled waters, tea boxes, and a couple mugs. You take a seat on the corner of his desk. It's so shiny you can only imagine the effort he puts in to keeping it clean. Levi hands you the bottle of water and sits down in his desk chair. “You know there’s actual chairs in this office y/n” he says perhaps a little concerned with how much taller than him you were sitting up on the desk rather in a chair. Worrying that the water would clear your head and then you realized a girl as pretty as you didn't have to be hanging out with a manlet like him. “Hmm but that's so far away from you, Levi” you almost coo, looking down at him that pretty little blush starting to spread back across his face. His eyes look away from yours “you're still pretty far away, how’s the weather up there giraffe”. Ah here it is, your opening. If you're a lioness stalking your prey then Mr.Ackerman is a antelope that's just made the fatal mistake of turning his back to you. 

With those words you slide off the desk and plant your knees between his legs, hands resting on his knees and starting to move up his thighs “Is this better for you Levi?” you say now having to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes “Y/n w-what are you doing” he whispers, face turning red and eyes going wide. You sit up a little, bringing one palm to his cheek, the other supporting yourself on the chair's armrest. Your nose starts to drag along his other cheek and down his jaw “Do you not like me Levi? I always thought you were so pretty” you finish your sentence with a kiss to his neck. The poor touch starved man nearly moans at the contact “No i-its not that I don't like you its just that uh” you grip his sharp jaw in your hands ``If you're worried about my dad I’m an adult. I can do what I want. Now I’m going to keep going and you can just say if and when you want me to stop okay, love”? All Levi can do is shake his head yes, before you unbutton the top of his shirt exposing his collar bone. This is where you plant your first kiss before dragging your sharp tongue up his neck, brushing your nose over his jaw before finally planting a warm but firm kiss to his lips. His part into a sign at the contact, he seems unsure of what to do with his hands keeping them planted on the arm rests. “I want to do something for you if you’ll let me” you say hands starting to undo his belt, again all Levi can do is nod. As soon as his belt is undone you undo the pants and pull his cock free from the confines of his boxers, it slapping against his stomach. “Oh I don’t want to make a mess of my dress I hope you understand” you pull the straps off the dress down your arms and then pull it down to your waist exposing both your breasts. You notice how Levi’s eyes widen even more “do you want to touch them?” before he can even give you a chance to answer you move his hands over to your breast and squeeze your hands over his. At the contact you notice the head of his cock start to leak pre-cum. Removing his hands you go and grab his cock in one hand using your thumb to smear the leaking precum over his head before bringing it up to your mouth. You start by giving his slit some quick kitten licks before sinking your lips around it. You keep your tongue flat as you move your head up and down against his length, his hands moving shakily to your shoulders, head thrown back in his chair, strands of black hair clinging to the sweat on his brow. Your right hand wraps around the bottom of his length touching the stiff black hairs against his pelvis and it moves up and down meeting your mouth. You feel his grip on your shoulders tighten and he sounds like he’s trying to say something but no words come out and you realize he’s about to release. You bring the head of his cock to just behind your lips as you feel him start to spill out into your mouth and run down your neck and leaving pretty pearls of cum on your tits. You swallow what's left in your mouth and give his twitching head another kiss right before you hear the banging on the door.

Of course because it's Erwin there’s no wait for a reply and he barges in and you quickly try and pull your dress back up as Levi pulls the hem of his shirt down to try and cover his softening cock. Eyes now widened in fear instead of arousal. Erwin storms over to the desk and harshly grabs you by the waist picking you up off the floor. “Disgusting” he says, taking out his pocket square and roughly wiping your mouth before throwing it down on Levi’s desk. “Hey Levi I would really appreciate it if you could keep your cock out of my daughter's mouth. Erwin's nostrils are flared and you swear you’ve never seen him this mad and it's starting to hurt how tightly he’s gripping you to his waist. Levi looks pathetic trying to cover himself with his shirt, looks like he’s about to speak but Erwin cuts him off saying “you and me will talk later, as for you young lady. Were about to have a talk right fucking now”. Erwin drags you into his office slamming the door pushing you onto his desk “What the hell was that little stunt y/n? I told you I was fine with you fucking around with Jaeger, but my clients? And now my best friend? What the hell has gotten into you?”. You can feel the tears start to well in your eyes. You want to yell about how he never asked if you were okay with him fucking your mom, but you just can’t say anything besides choke out “I’m sorry”. “Turn around” he says, you look at him teary eyes widening “I said turn around and plant your hands on the desk y/n”. As soon as you do what he says you feel him start to pull up your dress and you hear a zipper come undone. Suddenly thick fingers jerk your panties to the side and you feel him slide his fat cock into you with no prep stretching you apart “daddy that hurts” you say tears starting to run down your face. “Oh it hurts princess? Well maybe you should have thought about that before you went putting other men's cocks in your mouth” he continues his thrusting as his hands sneak under your armpits and reach back up to meet behind your neck putting you into a full nelson. The control he has over you and the rough pace would normally be enough for you to cum but he hasn’t given you enough time to warm up and all you can focus on is the sting of him stretching you apart until you feel him release inside you and the dribble of his release down your thighs. He releases your neck but grabs your jaw in his large hands and brings your head up till his lips meet your ear “now what on earth am I going to do with you princess”?

Tag List: @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag​

[dragonotaku-justineverything]

Jaune was asked to be the photographer in Jessica's Cinder shoot, and he was more than happy to see her in a bikini at the Beacon pool. When they were done, her method of payment was laying back on a pool chair as Jaune fucked her breasts and splattered her face wit cum. The real Cinder was quite jealous.

So here’s my first attempt at a real smut/non sfw written piece with Jessica Nigri. I’m actually very nervous about posting this. I’ve been working on this for a while, constantly debating if I should even do it the entire time. I really hope this doesn’t make me look like a creep, but I also really wanted to finally try writing more raunchy stuff with Jessica Nigri. 

But I put too much work into this to just NOT post it, so I guess we will all  see how this first one goes and whether or not I’ll do anymore. 

I’ll also be posting this to my Archive of Our Own account HERE.

So you all have been warned, what follows is a sort of one-shot (for now) smut piece of Jessica Nigri. You don’t enjoy stuff like that, you don’t have to read past this point.

*SNAP* *SNAP* *SNAP*

The gorgeous Jessica Nigri stretched her arms out over her head and let out a throaty moan. She was currently standing waist deep in the pool in the backyard of her house. Her stretch also ‘unintentionally’ pushed out her chest, making her red and gold bikini strain to keep her well endowed chest contained. She opened her eyes, revealing that her irises were gold instead of brown, and looked over at Jaune who was so kind to offer to be her cameraman after her usual photographer bailed on her just that morning. 

She ran her hands through her hair, which was now raven black instead of her usual blonde, and held that pose for the next set of pictures Jaune was going to take.

*SNAP* *SNAP*

Jaune, to his credit, did a great job at focusing on just taking the pictures and doing his job. It wasn’t easy. It got hard to maintain focus when Jessica started to pose more and more provocatively. He didn’t stare, but he had to check the pictures to make sure they were okay. With seeing so many sexy pictures, he couldn’t help the hard on that formed in his white swim trunks. He did the best he could to conceal it, but it was pointless.

Jessica saw the bulge forming from the start. She wasn’t offended or disgusted. She know the effect she had on guys and even some girls. She knew Jaune wasn’t a pervert, he just genuinely thought she was very attractive. That made her smirk a little proudly. It was nice knowing he thought she was pretty not just because she had big boobs.

*SNAP* 

Jessica stopped posing and relaxed her body. She sighed and moved towards the stairs of her pool. As she started getting out, she looked to Jaune. “Alright Jaune, I think that’s plenty to work with. Thanks again so much for helping me out on such short notice.”

Jaune looked up from the camera screen, a bit startled by Jessica’s sudden voice. “Y-you sure? We could get a few more if you want.”

“Nah it’s fine. You’ve already taken at least 200 already. Put down the camera and I’ll go inside to get you your money.”

Jaune lowered the camera to waist level, but quickly waved his hand to dismiss Jessica’s. “No no, you don’t need to pay me. I was happy just to help out a friend.” 

Jessica dramatically rolled her eyes at his dismissal. Seriously, he could really be too nice for his own good. “Jaune, I’m serious! You took four hours out of your Saturday off from Beacon to come down to Vale and help me with my shoot. I’m paying you.”

Jaune just sighed loudly. “Jessica, you don’t need to do that.”

Jessica grabbed a towel and started drying off her lower body as she fired back, “I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

“I’m serious Jessica.”

“So am I.”

The bickering between the two friends continued for a few more minutes with the same pattern. Jessica would insist that Jaune take money from her, and he would decline each and every offer. 

Their ‘argument’ finally ended when Jaune yelled, “I’m not taking your money Jessica!”

Jessica just groaned in frustration. She was getting really annoyed now. How selfless (or stubborn) do you have to be not to accept money you did a job to earn?!  She huffed, blowing a strand of her now black hair off to the side, and crossed her arms under her ample chest. When her girls got pushed up a little because of that, she looked down at them. Then she got a naughty little idea.

“Oh alright, fine Jaune. You don’t have to take my money.”

Jaune sighed in relief. He didn’t like bickering with his friends, especially over something as silly as this. He knows he did earn the money, but he just wouldn’t feel right taking money from his friends. “Thank you Jessica, I just don’t like tak-”

“You can just fuck my big tits instead~.”

Jessica had barely finished saying her newest offer when Jaune promptly froze and turned bright red. The camera slipping from his stiff fingers jogged some life back into Jaune. He fumbled with the camera a few times before getting a solid grip on it again. He rigidly turned to look at the beautiful woman who just made his heart stop. She looked very amused with Jaune’s panic. She wasn’t laughing out loud, but her golden eyes lit up while her upper body shook a little with laughter that she was holding back with tightly shut lips.

It took a minute, but Jessica finally reeled in her shaking and Jaune managed to calm down his blush a little. Now instead of it being his whole face, only his cheeks and ears were red. 

Jessica spoke first, her lips in a wide and somewhat smug grin. “Wow. That was quite the-*snrk* reaction, ha ha ha.” 

“W-well c-can you blame me!?” Jaune defended himself. “Y-you can’t just go making jokes like that! H-how did you expect me to react!”

“I wasn’t joking.” 

…

Jaune’s head tilted to the side, the blush on his face being replaced with a look of confusion. “Huh?”

“I was serious. I’ll give you a boobjob.”

Jaune had zero idea how to respond to that. 

So instead, his jaw just went slack and hung open in disbelief. Jessica did him a favor and stepped closer to him. She raised his jaw up with one slender finger on his chin to close his mouth. She slid her nail lightly along the underside of his jawline back towards his ear and then up towards his chin again, flicking her finger off when she ran out of track to follow. The small smirk still on her lips, she asked, “So how do you wanna go about it?”

Jaune sputtered while the red coloring flowed back to his entire face, before managing to speak. “Jessica! How could you say something like that?!” 

“What’s the big deal?”

Jaune looked away sheepishly. “Y-you shouldn’t throw your body around like that. I-it’s not right. Your body isn’t something to use like a tool. Especially not for payment.”

Jessica’s brow scrunched up a bit in confusion, before her eyes lit up with realization.“Oooooh, Jaune you’re-” Jessica stopped herself and thought for a bit. He thought that she was offering her body just to pay him back for his help. ‘Oh for the love of-!…Jaune, why do you have to be so sweet and cute, but sooo dense! Okay, blunt it is.’ “Okay Jaune, how about this. I’m going to tell you, very clearly, what I meant by what I said.”

“O-okay?”

“I WANT you to fuck my tits.” Before Jaune could make a sound at hearing this new revelation, Jessica continued. “You weren’t the only one who couldn’t help sneaking a few glances.” 

Jaune’s brow raised in confusion. “W-wha?”

Jessica grinned almost hungrily at him. She bit her glossy lower lip and moved her index finger to point down several times. “Those white trunks of yours aren’t that great at hiding anything~.”

Jaune’s eyebrows scrunched together a bit in confusion. He looked down to see what she was referring to, and promptly turned red.

Jaune had apparently gotten a bit distracted by Jessica because he had completely forgotten about the stiff problem in his trunks and stopped trying to hide it some time ago. Well that problem hadn’t gone down in the least. Jessica’s proposition hadn’t helped either. His boner had shifted and started pressing into the front of his trunks full force, making a bulge that no one could miss.

“So what do ya say~?”

Jaune’s attention shot back up to Jessica. While he was looking down at his own crotch, she had moved very close to him. So close they were almost touching. Jaune had to tilt his head a bit to look down at her. He accidently looked down a little too far though and ended up staring directly down her cleavage since her wonderful, bountiful chest was only an inch away from touching his.

As much as Jaune wanted to, he couldn’t look away. 

Jessica noticed that he was staring again almost immediately. With a smirk, she quickly bounced on the balls of her feet several times, getting her tits to bounce and jiggle beautifully in her tight red bikini top. Jaune’s eyes stayed locked on them. 

“You wanna see if my big girls can help out with your little friend down there~?” Jessica’s eyes had a teasing glint, not that Jaune noticed. He just nodded his head to say yes, or he was still tracking her bouncing tits. Either way, both were good enough for Jessica. She gently took his hand and led him over to the closest pool chair next to a small glass table. 

Jessica turned around and sat down on the soft, yellow cushion on the chair. She had to admit it felt pretty nice against her ass cheeks since it was warmed under the sun all day. She brought hands up to undo the knotted string on Jaune’s swim trunks and gently slid them down. The white trunks dropped to Jaune’s ankles, the man’s breath hitching when they did, and it was Jessica’s turn to stare.

Jaune’s very, very hard cock sprung free, no longer being confined in those trunks that now looked way too small to Jessica. ‘How did they manage to keep this dick contained? It has to be a good seven inches at least!’ The seven inch monster in question stood directly out from Jaune’s crotch, completely rigid and with the head aimed directly at her face.

Jessica stared down the shaft of the huge cock, not blinking. She inched her face closer to it briefly, but she pulled back just before her lips touched it. As much as she might want to, that wasn’t the deal. ‘There will probably be another time for that anyways~.’ Jessica heard Jaune whimper though when she pulled away. She glanced up at him with a small smirk. “Don’t worry Jaune, you’re gonna get something else. I think it will be even better too~.”

Jessica swung her legs up onto the lawn chair and scooted back on it. She arched her back and pushed out her chest before laying down against the inclined backrest. She reached over to the glass table and picked up the bottle of sunscreen that was on it next to her scroll. She hadn’t used it for the shoot, but it was always nice to be prepared for anything. After all, she was about to get some great use out of it now.

She flicked open the lid and turned it over right above her tits. She stared directly at Jaune with complete confidence as she squeezed the bottle and felt the chilly white cream landed all over the top and into the valley of her cleavage. For a good five seconds, Jessica just kept layering up the sunscreen. Finally the long, white stream from the bottle ended with a small pouf. She closed the lid and put it back down on the side table next to the chair. She jokingly cleared her throat and looked back to Jaune. 

With a smile, she grabbed her own tits, almost slamming her hands down on the soft D cup mounds, still covered by her bikini top. Jaune unconsciously let out a high pitched noise when he saw those big mounds flatten a bit under her hands. His eyes stayed locked on her big tits as her hands slowly began to roll them around. The large amount of sunscreen on top of and in between them slowly began to get spread around every inch of her flawless skin, especially in the wonderful valley between her boobs.

Her smooth, tan skin was soon covered in obvious white streaks from the sunscreen being rubbed in just a little bit. The bikini top she was wearing also shifted and Jaune could just start to see the darker skin of her areolas, and her hard nipples pressing against the fabric. 

“That should be enough.” Jessica stopped playing with her own tits and ran her slightly messy hands down her slim waist. She laid back against the back of the lawn chair and pushed her chest out. “Well Jaune, feel free to start whenever you come back to your senses~.”

While Jaune was indeed very distracted by her erotic show just now, he was still very aware of what she said. He hesitantly took a small step out of his swim trunks and closer towards the chair she was laying on, his shins now touching the frame of it and completely naked. A part of him still wanted to decline, another part even wanted to say he’d just take the money now, but those were both very small in comparison to the part of him that wanted what was being offered right in front of him. 

Jaune carefully raised his right leg and climbed onto the chair as well, his knees pressing down on the cushion on either side of Jessica’s thighs. He slowly scooted his knees forward and soon had his hard cock positioned above her chest. He looked down at her, then realized he was still holding the camera. With one hand, Jaune reached over and set it down on the same table that the sunscreen bottle was on. 

With his hands now free, he grabbed the top of the chair’s back above Jessica’s head. He lowered his hips to position his cock at the bottom of her boobs under the middle bikini strap. He looked at Jessica to make sure it was okay. Their eyes locked and Jessica bit her lower lip as she nodded. Without any more hesitation, Jaune slid his cock head into her vast cleavage.

His cock head hit the skin in between her tits and slid up inside with ease, getting both of them to shiver a bit. Jaune pushed his cock all the way through and pulled his hips back. Within seconds, Jaune had started a steady rhythm of fucking Jessica’s tits. Jaune continued to hump into her cleavage, already loving the amazing feeling enveloping his cock from the incredibly soft pillows enveloping his shaft. 

Jessica was also enjoying herself. She looked down from Jaune’s blushing face to her cleavage. She was greeted by the sight of the head of Jaune’s cock popping out, now slick with white sunscreen too. She was pretty impressed that it was big enough to do that. She could also feel just how hot and hard his shaft was. ‘Fuck, it feels like a metal rod! Let’s see how he likes this though~.’

While Jaune did already seem to be in paradise, Jessica decided to make it just a bit more… interesting for him~.

With a smirk, she moved her hands back up to her tits and pushed them together. Jaune gasped as the soft tits that were around his cock started to squeeze down, rubbing the cock between them even more. He stopped moving just to get used to the new tightness. Jessica chuckled as she heard the man above her gasp, letting her know that she made a good move.

Jaune started rolling his hips forward once again, this time needing more force to push into her slick cleavage. Pretty soon, his rolling turned into full on thrusting. Jaune was now literally just fucking her tits without a second thought, letting out small grunt and groans as he did so. His grunts almost drowned out the slick ‘plap’ing sound of his cock pumping in and out between her slippery tits as he thrusted away.

Those weren’t the only noises being made though. Alongside Jaune’s grunts, his cock’s slick ‘plap’s, and Jessica’s own moans and giggles as she watched Jaune eagerly thrust away between her sensitive tits, was a creaking sound coming from the rocking chair they were on. With Jaune’s harder thrusting, the chair had started shaking quite a bit. Jaune had also tightened his grip on the back of the chair, unknowing pulling it towards him with his thrusts. Jessica felt the rocking, but thought nothing of it.

Until Jaune pulled so far that the back of the chair slipped out of the slot keeping its back inclined. 

“Aaaah!”

With a surprised yelp, Jessica fell back with the chair. She let out a small “Oouf!” as the chair flattened out. It now looked more like a skinny bed. 

“Jessica?! Are you okay?”

Jessica, now laying flat on her back, looked back up to Jaune who was propped above her. He looked at her worriedly and had stopped his thrusting. She smiled and nodded. “Yup! I’m all good. Actually, this position might be better~.” Her hands squeezed and rolled her tits around Jaune’s cock, enticing him to continue. “Though, I still haven’t gotten your white stuff on my tits~. So keep going~.” 

Jaune looked at her for a second, but once he saw that she really was okay, he started rocking his cock back into her cleavage again. A few seconds later and he was back to thrusting between her tits as quickly as he had been. The new position they were in was definitely making it a lot easier for him to fuck the sexy cosplayer’s tits.

Jessica didn’t stop helping her girls rub his dick either. Her hands still firmly pushing them around Jaune’s shaft, even sinking her fingers into them a little, making her moan along with Jaune. She glanced over at the table next to them, thinking about pouring some more sunscreen on to help things get really messy, when something else caught her attention.

She saw her scroll though the glass. Seeing that it was more within her reach than the sunscreen bottle, she quickly got another idea. She moved her hand off her left tit and reached over to the table, now using one arm to keep her breasts wrapped tightly around the meaty rod fucking them. She smirked as she started her naughty little plan.

Jaune didn’t see Jessica reach for the table because his eyes were closed, just enjoying his own little paradise at the moment. For a whole minute, Jaune was only focused on pumping faster and faster into her slippery cleavage, his cock still gliding effortlessly into her deep valley. It felt too fucking good to stop now, and he wanted as much pleasure as he could get. 

His heavy balls were sliding along her stomach and slapping into her underboob at this point with how heavy his thrusts had gotten. Jaune scrunched his eyes shut even harder and let loose a guttural moan as he felt himself get right to the edge. He could feel his cock twitch and pulse as he finally hit his breaking point. 

“Fuuuuuuck! Jessicaaa!” Before Jaune even finished shouting her name, he was already unloading ropes of cum. “Uuuughfuck!” As he continued to release ropes of cum out without care, he felt absolute bliss shoot through him. Nothing could have ruined how amazing he felt right now.

For nearly a minute, Jaune kept shooting loads of his thick cum. He felt them get smaller and smaller though, and soon came to a full stop. Jaune panted heavily, coming down slowly from his climax. The best best one he’d ever had too. He slowly opened his eyes finally and looked down, and his slowly softening cock nearly shot back to attention when he did.

Underneath him was Jessica Nigri, covered in his spunk. everything from her head down to the top of her breasts was covered in thick white ropes of his cum. The sexiest part of that though was seeing her happily lick around her lips and scoop up what cum she could into her mouth, all with a sexy smirk on her glossy lips.

Jessica took her hands off her tits and started using them to scoop up cum off her face. She brought her fingers to her mouth and slowly pushed them past her lips one by one, sensually sucking them clean from cum. She moaned in the back of her throat, knowing Jaune was watching her now. 

After all her fingers were clean, Jessica parted her lips slightly and pulled her last finger out of her mouth, pulling her bottom lip down a little as it slid out. She looked straight up into Jaune’s eyes and moaned in a sultry voice. “Mmmmmm~. Delicious~.” Jaune blushed when he heard that, getting a small chuckle from Jessica.

After waiting a couple of seconds to let Jaune calm down, Jessica started to sit up, prompting Jaune to back away from her and sit down on the long side of the chair. Jessica made sure that her bikini top was still somewhat fitted on her breasts as she sat up completely, then swung her legs off the chairs side to join Jaune sitting directly next to him. She stretched her arms up  above her head with her fingers interlaced, letting out a relaxed sigh. Jaune didn’t stop himself from staring at her chest as she pushed it out.

Jessica’s arms fell back down to her side and she gently started to rub Jaune’s thigh with her right hand.  “Mmmmuuuh that was pretty hot Jaune, you have fun~?”

Jaune looked over at her, and eagerly nodded his blushing head. “Yeah, t-that was amazing Jessica.”

Jessica kept smirking and patted his thigh twice with her hand. “Well, maybe that can happen again sometime. Whaddya think of that Jaune~?”

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“Well then, I guess we’re gonna have to try to get together more often huh~? But for now, I think I’m going to go take a shower and get cleaned up a bit. You did get me pretty messy~.” Jessica stood up and picked up her scroll. “If you’d like, I have a spare bathroom with another shower that you could use.” With that, she started to sashay towards her house with a sexy sway in her hips.

Jaune started after those swaying hips and committed them to memory. As Jessica slid her home’s backdoor open, Jaune stood up and picked up his swim trunks, covered his crotch with them and jogged to catch up to her. Jessica stepped aside and let him in first, admiring his fine ass as he walked by. ‘I’m gonna have to compare mine with his sometime~. Those are some firm cheeks~.”

With that thought, Jessica stepped into her home as well and closed the door behind them.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Chime~

Cinder’s musing on her scroll was interrupted as she received a video message. She also groaned when she saw who it was from. “Uuugh. What does that bimbo want now?” Cinder was really tired of being annoyed by Jessica. Jessica had tried to be ‘friends’ with her at first, but now just seemed to just enjoy annoying Cinder whenever she could. Just the thought of her right now started to make Cinder feel frustrated.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably just a waste of my time.”Despite her better judgement, Cinder still opened the message from Jessica, though a bit begrudgingly. After a few seconds of loading, the video started to play and she was greeted by the sight of her ‘counterpart’ Jessica recording herself by holding her scroll out above her. Cinder could see her body was rocking slightly, but before she could even wonder why that was, the camera began to pan down Jessica’s body.

Revealing a large cock quickly pumping back and forth between her sunscreen covered breasts. 

Cinder’s head recoiled back slightly at seeing such a thing on her screen. Because she was farther away from the screen now, Cinder finally noticed that there was a small caption in a tinted dark blue line on the bottom of the video.

[I hope you like trying to catch up Cindy~. I think I have a good step up on you~.]

Cinder scoffed after reading that caption. “What on Remnant is she talking about? What could I possibly need to catch up with…. her…. on…” Cinder’s question trailed off as the camera angle panned again, completely flipping around this time. It landed on the face of a man propped above her. 

Not just any strange man either. But Jaune Arc. The Jaune Arc that she had been trying to get to fuck her for weeks, with zero results. And now here he was on her scroll screen, currently fucking this bimbo’s tits!

The video ended while Cinder was ranting in her thoughts. It started to replay on a loop, but before it played the first five seconds again, the screen went blank. Then started to show cracks as Cinder slowly crushed it in her grip. She abruptly stood up and tossed her scroll on to the bed she’d been on. 

She straightened out her red dress and started to pace towards the door. “Fine. If that slut wants to try to steal what I want, I’ll happily make her realize her mistake. You wanted me to ‘catch up’ Jessica? Well, I’ll make you regret those words.” 

With a determined fire blazing in her eyes, she left the room, slamming the door shut behind her. She didn’t pay any of the scared students she passed a second thought. She had to think of a plan of how her desired fucktoy to get back, and rub that bimbo’s face in it when she did.

[treasureofhisheart]

Let Me Help

(Just some Kanej fluff involving a sore leg and sad Kaz confessions)

His tell is obvious as Inej hears him climbing up the stairs. His pace is slow and he’s leaning heavily on his cane. It was a bad day.

Inej is sitting in the window sill when Kaz enters the room, damp from the rain. He crosses the room wordlessly and sits down at his desk in a huff.

“Why are you wet?” Inej asks, innocently enough.

“I’ve been all over this damn city gathering supplies for the next job,” he struggles out of his wet jacket and vest, “apparently no one around here wants to work anymore but me.” He considers, then adds, “and you, of course. Then again, if I noticed you doing your job, you wouldn’t be doing a very good one.”

She ignores the compliment, “what new job? I wasn’t aware.”

He turns his face slightly away from hers to avoid her eyes. Another tell that most would ignore. “Well, there’s nothing specific yet, just being prepared.”

Kaz stands to hang up his wet coat and gloves, and winces slightly every time he takes a step, “And this weather is not helping,” he adds, begrudgingly. Obviously hating for anyone to see him struggle. A small part of him resenting her for her presence in his space.

“Why are you working, then?” She moves closer to him, perching on the edge of his desk as he sits back down. His head falls back against the chair back. His eyes are red rimmed and shadowed underneath. His skin looks sallow and pale. “You look exhausted,” she concludes.

“Too much to do, too little time,” he replies. Deflecting.

“What needs to be done?” She pushes him. He is exceptionally dodgy tonight, his nerves on edge. He sighs and closes his eyes. “Tell me, maybe I can help?”

“There’s nothing you can help me with.”

“Try me.”

“Jordie’s birthday is this week,” he answers instead.

Inej doesn’t speak, so caught off guard by this sudden admission. Instead of responding, she gives him time to continue.

“I spent an hour standing at the harbor like a sentimental fool because I have no grave to visit.” He opens his eyes and stares blankly at the wall behind her.

“I don’t even remember the day, that’s the worst part. I just know it’s this week. A 20-something-th day. And I’ve tried to remember, and I’ve looked into records, but there’s nothing. There’s no trace of him.”

“You’re not a sentimental fool for paying respects to your brother,” Inej says. His face is hardened, no trace of the softness that should come along with his words, not in his face or his tone.

“No, but I’m a sentimental fool for missing him.” Again, the candidness of his speech is shocking. And last year, would’ve been something she’d have never expected him to admit. After Kaz finally told her about Jordie and everything that happened, it’s like he is relieved to have someone else in the know. Someone to be honest with. He doesn’t look sad, he looks angry. At himself, she supposes, but also everyone else. Everyone that took so much from him, everyone that has those things that he doesn’t have. He kneaded his bad leg absently.

“Let me,” she says instead of replying. He looked like he was going far away, and she didn’t think before she said it, didn’t consider the impact of her words. The intimacy of the gesture. She just wanted to distract him. It’s just so difficult to give comfort to a person who doesn’t know how, or can’t, accept comfort.

“Let you what?”

“Your leg. I know how,” The offer felt awkward coming out of her mouth, but there was no taking it back now, so she just barreled on, “Everyone in my troop did, since injuries and knotted muscles were common.”

“I’m fine,” he responded, automatically, too quickly.

“No, you aren’t,” she sighs, “it’s worse tonight. It’s actually a little insulting that you think you could get away with lying about that to me.”

“It’s the rain,” he mumbles, then gets up to limp over to his bed.

“No matter what the reason is,” she tries, softer, hoping he picks up on her meaning. “I can help.” Please, let me help somehow.

He meets her eyes for the first time since she offered. Underneath the grimace that’s permanently plastered on his face is something like fear.

“I don’t have to touch your skin,” she adds, quietly.

“I know, I’m familiar with the process,” he snaps, then sighs. He reclines back against his pillows and headboard, swinging his legs onto the bed. He nods, curtly, and says, “Okay, then. Do your worst. I expect you’re going to add this to your timesheet?”

She rolls her eyes at his weak attempt at comic relief and walks over to the edge of his bed, plopping down on the mattress cross-legged, next to him.

“This might hurt more at first, but eventually, it will hurt less,” she tells him.

“Sounds promising,” he grumbles, and throws an exaggerated arm over his face indignantly. (Embarrassedly, she thinks, though he’d hate to realize that.)

She reaches toward his leg and she stops when he grabs her sleeve. “It’s particularly sore today,” he admits, uncomfortably. And I have never let anyone do this and I don’t know what to expect, goes unspoken.

“I’ll be careful,” she says, and he releases her arm.

She begins to work out the tension in his leg, gently at first, since he immediately hisses at her first application of pressure, cursing and muttering “that doesn’t feel careful” under his breath. She smiles in response.

His leg is knotted with tension from the day and also from the tension that’s been building up in him from the moment she touched him since he is apparently using every ounce of willpower in his body not to recoil from her touch.

Eventually, after the awkwardness and pain subsides some, they both relax into a more comfortable rhythm. Her, applying more pressure than before, him wincing occasionally but refusing to say anything or really even breathe differently to give her any indication of pain or relief.

The only sign she got that he wasn’t completely regretting his decision to allow her to do this was a forceful exhale when she changed what she was doing to target a different muscle that was almost a sigh.

“See? It helps,” she boasted.

He didn’t reply, and she continued.

Bit by bit, he relaxed into her touch. She didn’t look at his face, her cheeks hot at the suddenly reality of the situation now that they weren’t picking at each other. She was touching him and he was okay with it. At least, okay enough. And she was sitting on his bed. With him in this compromising position. In this room that only she is entrusted with being in. Doing something only she is entrusted with doing, whatever that means. Instead of dwelling on any of those facts, she just went through the motions of massaging, just like she would for another member of her troop. She was so lost in this process that she didn’t notice his breathing change at first.

His body had gone slack next to her, his breathing deeper. She looked up at his face which was still covered from the nose up by his arm. His free hand crossing his stomach, fingers occasionally twitching. He’s asleep, she realizes, (and much more quickly than a normal, not sleep deprived person would be, she adds mentally.) Her heart tightens a bit at the sight. His face was softer in sleep, jaw unclenched and mouth not pulled into some sort of frown. She feels like she’s seeing something she shouldn’t, that Kaz wouldn’t want anyone else to. She wonders if she’s still included in that “anyone else.” He trusts her with his life and his secrets, but does he trust her with this?

Moving unnoticed is second nature to her, so getting up without waking him isn’t difficult. She considers tossing a blanket over him if it weren’t for the surety of that both waking him up and mortifying him.

She cuts the light and leaves out the window, unnoticed, only looking back at him once... or twice. Kaz doesn’t stir.

[planetcallisto]

— waltz of the jerk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: typical highschool banter

word count: 1820

A/N: finally got to one of the requests!! Ahh I hope you like it anonie! I really liked writing this one,,,the other request will be out soon too please enjoy!

Competition was your middle name. Jeon was Jungkook’s last name. 

You step into class, your bag hanging off one of your shoulders, and realise your music teacher decided to shuffle around your assigned desks today. Funny how they waited until the last week of your last year in highschool to give the students a little bit of time to just have fun. Though, how fun could a competition about playing some nursery rhyme on an instrument with a random partner be? Not too exciting considering you find your name tag on a desk beside him all the way at the back of the class. Mr. Jeon I’m-good-at-everything Jungkook.

By the front of the class sit your two friends, who just happened to be partnered with each other, probably not until they bribed Namjoon, one of the kinder guys in your class, with some chips to switch places. They send you lop-sided smiles and point to the back wall.

“Now’s your chance,” Namjoon whispers to you.

You kick him in the shin and he gasps, sticking his tongue out at you.

Just because Jungkook was always sitting a couple seats away from you in every class, and just because sometimes you found yourself staring at the way his fingers tugged at his uniform’s tie or how you could see more of his tattoos when he rolled his sleeves up to play his guitar didn’t mean you thought of him as anything more than pure competition. Sure, you with your flute and him with his guitar did not put you guys on the same playing field, but it was still fun to push his buttons. You were a band kid and he was a band kid.

Jungkook pushes his large round glasses up his nose as he lifts his gaze from his fingers on the guitar’s fretboard to you. A grin pulls at the side of his lips. It's not the soft kind smile you usually see him wear during class. It's a competitive smirk.

“We meet again,” He breathes, leaning back in the squeaky plastic chair.

You throw your backpack to the ground and place your flute case on your desk, “Did you do this Jeon?”

You don’t look at him as you assemble your flute.

“You think I purposefully put us together?”

You cross your arms and turn to him, watching his grin grow wider, “Yes, I do think you would do that Jeon.”

He scoffs in your face and rests his guitar against the wall behind him. The sleeves of his white uniform dress shirt scrunch just above his elbows as he rests one on the table, with his head leaning on his hand. A strand of wavy hair falls just in front of his eye and skims his jaw line.

“Do you enjoy calling me by my last name? Is Jeon a term of endearment for you?”

Your eyebrows pull together, “You must be insane to think anything I call you would be endearing.”

He reaches up to tuck his hair behind his ear. At the beginning of the school year you overheard him telling his bandmate Jimin how he’d like to grow out his hair to look more like the lead singer of an indie band. Something about the tattoos, the long hair and the double helix ear piercing made you angry, but in a I want to beat his ass for being so attractive sort of way. And all of that manifested itself into really, really heavy flirting, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

“You’re just scared to say my first name,” his free hand presses down on the keys of your flute as you put it down, “because then you’d be admitting I exist.”

“When I kicked your ass at yesterday’s poetry challenge in English, you existed then,” you smirk at him, “you existed in second place that is.”

He pulls his hand back and sits up straight, wiping his hands on his black slacks, “Well, you’re lucky we’re in a group today or else you know for a fact I would’ve beat you.” He scrunches his nose, lifting his arms over his head and stretching them out before grabbing his guitar and resting it on his lap.

“You’re such a conceited asshole,” you mumble, lifting your flute to your lips and blowing a few notes until it’s in tune. 

He strums a couple of chords on his guitar, taking a sheet of paper passed down from the row ahead of yours and placing it in the middle of the desk. A scoff leaves his lips, “It looks like you’re going to have to play Waltz of the Flowers with a conceited asshole. Romantic, isn’t it?”

Tchaikovsky is one of your favourite composers, and you’ve heard this piece no less than 100 times. It'll be a breeze for you.

You look over at him, “Romantic? Have you even seen the Nutcracker?”

His fingers quickly tug at the strings of his guitar in tune with Waltz of the Flowers. He goes through half of the song before answering you, “Nope. You wanna watch it with me?”

The familiar grin is plastered on his face, this time it reaches his eyes and for a moment, it feels sincere. But only for a moment.

“Jeon-”

“Jungkook,” he corrects you.

You shake your head, “No. Jeon-”

“Just call me Jungkook.”

Your feet push into the ground and you grit your teeth, “No. I’ll keep calling you Jeon-”

“But my name is Jungkook,” he chuckles. 

You take a deep breath, putting your flute down in fear you might snap it in half if he laughs one more time, “Your name is also Jeon isn’t it? Or did you suddenly drop your last name?”

His lips form an “O”, “Look at you being all snarky.”

“Listen Jeon, the teacher is going to call on us in like five-”

“Thought you already knew how to play this piece? Or were you lying to impress me hm?”

Your knuckles turn white as your grasp onto the edges of your chair, “Why would I ever need to impress you?”

He cocks his head to the side, his eyes scanning your face: the way your lips form a pout but your jaw is tense, how your eyebrows are drawn together and your eyes glare at him. He loves driving you up the wall.

“Because I’m your only competition and you’d do anything to get me to go easy on you?” He smiles softly, like he’s just read your mind. His eyes curve into crescents as he giggles watching you stumble over what you’re going to say next.

“God, stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, releasing your death grip on the chair and feeling blood rush back into your fingers.

“God? Thought my name was Jeon.”

You stay silent and look away from him, tugging the music sheet closer to you to quickly study the notes and accents.

He rambles, “So you do think I’m better than you huh? Do you admit I’m your competition? Or would you rather continue to not acknowledge my existence? Because it’s kinda hard for me to ignore yours when all you do is argue with me about why Clair De Lune is Debussy’s best work when clearly…”

In your mind, you’ve already replaced his voice with the notes of Waltz of the Flowers. The strings crescendo as you move to the climax of the piece and you can hear your flute play the quick eighth notes. 

“But then you told me that Moonlight Sonata was way way too overhyped and I thought you were crazy because why and how could it ever be overhyped when it's been proven to be one of the most influential-”

Your jaw tenses. His voice cuts through the gentle flute in your mind and all you can hear is him. Is this when you cut him off? Is this the perfect moment to shut him up for the rest of the class? Yes. It is.

You press your hand to your desk and you glare at him, “Oooh you wanna kiss me so bad.”

A mix of fear and confusion flash along his features. His brown eyes go wide and his mouth stays open, but no words come out. Even though the rest of the class is still loud, playing their assortment of pieces, your mind is quiet. All you hear is the dial tone of a phone after someone’s hung up and then silence. 

Just as fast as the words left your mouth, and before you can ask him to focus on the task at hand, his lips push against yours, with his tattooed hand gently holding your chin. Slowly, he moves his lips against yours before leaning back into his chair, letting his fingers linger on your chin.

His hand retracts and rests back on the strings of his guitar and he giggles, his nose scrunching and his eyes smiling with the rest of his face, “How did you know I wanted to kiss you?”

He’s relaxed, fingers absentmindedly strumming something on his guitar, tongue dragging across his teeth as his smile grows, his hair falls softly against his cheeks. He doesn’t look away from you, instead following your eyes as you try to think about anything other than how the touch of his hand and the feel of his lips jumbled your entire mind. Every time you heard Waltz of the Flowers play in your mind all you could think of is his stupid smile and the way he so, without any concern for the rest of society, kissed you. 

You hate to admit it, “You win, Jeon.”

“Not enough for you to finally call my Jungkook?”

Sweat accumulates on the palms of your hands as your warm touch comes in contact with the cold metal of your flute.

“Will you at least look at me so I know you mean it.”

You can’t help but laugh and rest your eyes back on his. “Not enough to call you…” you clear your throat, “Jungkook.”

“You know,” he fiddles with the stud earrings sitting at the cuff of his ear, “the theatre is putting on their version of the Nutcracker in a few weeks…”

There’s silence between you two. In all your interactions with Jungkook, either he’s rambling, or you’re shouting at him, or vice versa. Never have either of you stopped talking altogether. 

He speaks up, “Um, it’d be cool if you came with me to watch it. Only so you can tell me how it doesn’t live up to the original, of course.”

You shove your hand forward and his brows pull up on his forehead, “Deal.” His fingers brush your palm before you close your hand into a fist, “On one condition.”

“What is it?”

Your fingers uncurl and you grab his hand, letting his fingers fold against your palm, “Only if we beat everyone else today.”

He shakes your hand, but doesn’t let go, “Deal.”

[heretherebedork]

Sorry for the long break, I’ve been trying to think of some good premises :’)

Premise: Laundromat setting where our introverted ML likes to relax at once every week late at night. He normally is there alone until someone starts showing up and seems very determined to annoy him as much as possible.

Oh, my apologies as well! Dark is not my talent and I'm still staring at the other one with a slack jawed expression of uselessness.

Okay, ML lives at home still. He's the middle child of five and all of them live at home, as well as his grandparents, one uncle and two aunts. He is constantly surrounded by people, always. There's nothing quiet at home. Ever.

So, almost every other day, he finds an excuse to go to the laundromat after dinner. There's enough people and enough laundry that all he has to do is volunteer and someone else will take him up on the offer. And then he gets quiet time because no one else is ever there right then, not that close to dinner and bed. It's quiet and stays quiet. He brings a book and his phone and he just... relaxs.

Until, one night, Wash shows up. Wash goes to the university as ML but they have different majors and really have only seen each other once or twice on campus. Wash is also a big sports star, one of the university moons and generally a well-liked and popular guy who shouldn't be at a laundromat during dinner.

But there he is.

And ML hates him instantly. Because Wash just wants to talk. The entire time. He wants to chat and converse and joke and nudge and ML just wants to be quiet and to be left alone.

It takes less than an hour before ML explodes at Wash to just leave him alone, to stop talking, to just get away.

And ML instantly feels bad because Wash is basically a scolded puppy. He folds up in on himself and nods and steps away, completely unexpectedly.

But a week later... Wash is back. And he instantly starts chatting with ML again, talking about nothing and everything and ML snaps again. But this time, Wash just pauses and then starts talking again.

Ml is pissed. He no longer feels bad.

Soon, this starts happening at the university as well. Wash pops up whereever ML is trying to be quiet and alone and starts talking. How does he find him? No idea. ML hates it so much. He's so stressed. He can't get any time by himself. He's losing his mind.

And the next time Wash shows up, ML explodes before he can get a word in edgewise. It's all about wanting to be alone, wanting some quiet time and why Wash is so determined not to let him have any and it's a real explosion, words and tears and anger and hurt.

Wash goes quiet before he explains that he thought ML was lonely. He knew that ML didn't have many friends, really any friends, and had seen him sitting alone all the time. After seeing him alone in that laundromat when he'd gone in to do an emergency load, Wash had decided to befriend ML to make sure he wasn't alone.

ML feels guilty and vindicated and annoyed and like a bad person. He sighs. Wash is still looking like a dejected puppy, squatting on the ground and pouting at ML.

This time, at least, ML agrees to talk. He sits down with Wash and tries to explain himself... but meets a wall. Wash is a huge extrovert who just cannot wrap his mind around the idea of not wanting a huge group of friends and, frankly, Wash is way more stubborn than ML.

So they make an agreement. ML will spend time with Wash's friends on campus but in the laundromat, they're quiet. No talking unless ML starts it. And no more following him around.

Thus begins a really awkward friendship. Wash introduces ML to dozens of people all across campus, multiple sports teams, huge social groups and ML... deals with it. He does make a few friends along the way, despite himself.

And Wash starts spending a few quiet hours in the laundromat with ML one or twice a week. ML would still rather be alone sometimes... but it's not so bad when all Wash is doing is playing on his phone or reading a book or napping.

Wash starts to get more possessive of ML when they're out with his friends. He's quicker to sit at his side, wrap his arm around him and monopolize ML's attentions. He's really like a puppy now, clinging and all over him. ML's pretty confused.

Until Lime, one of his new friends, points out that he's pretty sure Wash has a giant crush on him. ML had never considered that an option. But the more he thinks about it, the more likely it seems. And the more ML admits that Wash is pretty cute. And very kind. Even if he is a bit overwhelming.

The next time they're alone in the laundromat, ML finds himself watching Wash. Especially because Wash has figured out that ML won't stop him from sitting at his feet and leaning against him. So now they sit in the laundromat with Wash snuggled against ML's legs and typically napping.

And ML watches him sleep. He slowly reaches down, touching his cheek and his forehead and then, ever so gently, his lips. He's never felt like this before. Never. And he's also never felt the absolute panic before when Wash opens his eye and crosses them at the sight of ML's fingers on his lips.

Shared panic sends them apart at that and Wash is bright red and ML is still staring at him in return. Wash opens his mouth, remembers their agreement about the quiet laundromat and covers his mouth with both hands.

But ML knows they need to talk. So he sighs, groans and comes to sit down beside Wash for a real talk. It's awkward. It's painful. ML hates it and Wash keeps giggling and blushing and scooting closer.

But, in the end, there's an agreement in place. ML will try very casual dating and Wash gets his wish of being able to wrap his arms around ML and sit on him and just generally cuddle with him.

Yeah, the first fight is the next day when Wash bounces over, flops into ML's lap in front of the rest of the school and beams up at him. ML flushes, grumbles and a moment later he's lecturing Wash about appropriate boundaries and Wash is pouting, lip trembling, and everyone is staring.

This time, Wash runs off in tears. And ML watches him go, watches everyone turn to look at him disapprovingly and groans. He goes after Wash and finds him, eventually, in their laundromat.

Wash is hurt and sitting at the foot of the chair ML normally sits in and looks up at ML... and says he doesn't want to go out any more. Not if it means getting yelled at. Not if it means walking on eggshells.

ML accepts, as much as it hurts. Agrees to go back to being friends. Nods and exhales and steps back out in the world when Wash says he wants to be alone.

But ML doesn't expect how much it would hurt. And Wash withdraws more and more each day. And Wash looks sadder each day. He's a hurt puppy and ML hates seeing him like that.

Worst of all? Wash stops coming to the laundromat.

It only takes a few days before ML finally breaks down. He stops Wash, tugs him off away from the crowds and talks to him. Asks if he's okay. Asks how he feels and expects an honest answer.

He gets tears. Wash hates pulling away from ML. But he wants a relationship where he can be open and he doesn't want to see ML uncomfortable with that either. He wants them both to be happy, as hard as it is to say that while being friends.

ML stares at Wash. Then he asks why, exactly, Wash didn't say that when they talked about trying dating? Why he didn't say he wanted to be open and public?

And ML wraps Wash in his arms in a hug, pulling the soft jock into an embrace. He sighs, admitting that he had never thought about going public. Or what that could mean to Wash. He'd really only been thinking about himself in the relationship, not both of them.

So they sit down again. And they talk. Really talk. ML forces himself to listen and Wash has to be honest. And new ideas are laid out. Wash wants to be public. He doesn't care about much else, but he wants to be able to affectionate in public, wherever they are. ML just needs Wash to still respect his quiet times and to let him leave a group when he's tired. There's more, but those are what's truly important.

And then there's a little epilogue of a postgame party where Wash and ML come out to the team via Wash plopping down in ML's lap, kissing his cheek and looking at his teammates.

No one cares.

Ooof, this one just did not quite wanna come together. BUT THERE. I definitely picture Wash as looking like a jock but really just acting like a puppy. Sweet as sugar and soft as can be and nothing like what you'd think while ML is more petite but very quiet and very stiff.

Lime is a goofball when he's on screen and he has a bestfriend named Coconut who's the sweetest girl in the world who adores Wash but doesn't have a crush on him and is one of the ones who comforts him when he breaks up with ML.

[krispy-dream]

Twice Forgotten, Always Remembered

Title: Twice Forgotten, Always Remembered

Relationships: Tubbo & Ranboo (platonic)

Words: 7,202

Rating: G or T? It's a little spooky and there's a suggestive joke here and there but it's pretty SFW. No strong language.

No strong angst, it's mostly boys bein boys!!

Read on Ao3 (CLICK THE SOURCE LINK!!) or click Read More!

Ranboo swallows thickly as he witnesses a massive spruce branch crash through the dense layer of ice coating a nearby lake, his restless gaze darting across the terrain while the whistling wind hammers incessantly against his eardrums. Violent white flurries conceal much of the world from sight, and Ranboo's eyes lock onto anything and everything he can discern against the blizzard. He is disquieted by a gentle tap on his elbow, focus snapping towards the source at honed speeds. The muscles around his shoulders and neck slack momentarily when he catches sight of Tubbo, both of them dodging eye contact while Tubbo takes a step back to give the startled half-enderman some room to breathe before piping up.

"Do you plan to spend your whole visit looking out the window?" Tubbo's voice seems louder than it needs to be. "We'll be stuck inside here for a while, you may as well enjoy yourself."

A short huff passes Ranboo's lips before he crosses his arms, gloved fingers thrumming against himself in a furtive attempt to relax his nerves. "If your idea of enjoying myself is anything like last time, I think I'll pass." Tubbo's mouth turns downwards at the sentiment, a hand raising to his chin in contemplation.

"Ranboo. We're friends, right?" Ranboo's mouth goes agape for a moment before shutting tight, his brows knitting together in thought. Tubbo takes this as a cue to keep going. "I consider you a friend, you know. I wouldn't make you uncomfortable on purpose." Tubbo steps closer to Ranboo, his gaze searching the humanoid boy's face in an attempt to discern his feelings. "Do you never get curious of the differences between us, Ranboo? Like, biologically?" Ranboo's brow peaks at this one, skeptical eyes peering down at Tubbo.

"I'm not sure I like where this is going," Ranboo warns, and Tubbo splutters before tightly shutting his eyes and pointing both fingers at them.

"Like this, you see?" Tubbo opens his eyes again in time to see Ranboo scrunching his nose at the sight. "You don't have eyelids, why is that?"

Ranboo tilts his head, an incredulous expression painting his features. "I wasn't born with any." He almost stops there, but Tubbo's disappointed pout breaks him just enough to add "My eyes don't need moisture like yours do."

"What about protecting them from the elements?" Ranboo shrugs.

"I just don't have them, Tubbo. I'm not a biologist."

"Wait - don't you cry? And pee? So you have water in your body, right?" Tubbo jabs Ranboo in the arm while his eyes wander his body up and down. "That must suck! How are you not, like, corroding from the inside out?"

"I'd like to go back to watching the storm," Ranboo announces, once again turning towards the window.

"No, wait! I'm sorry, I just... I don't know, I guess I think you're interesting, in a cool way, you know?" Tubbo watches in dismay as Ranboo tenses his jaw, making a point to keep his eyes fixated away from Tubbo. "You could ask me any questions about my body if you want! I'd be happy to share..." Tubbo bites his lip, cringing at his own wording. "That sounds kind of weird, doesn't it? Not that I would mind if you asked something weird! As long as it's fair, like an 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' kinda thing." Tubbo takes note of how Ranboo's lip twitches up in amusement when he says this and rakes his mind for something that would encourage words. "You know, when I was a kid I was absolutely terrified of endermen. But now I think they're kinda cute, so thanks for that."

This works. "Pff. 'When I was a kid'? You're still a kid." Tubbo's triumphant smile falters almost immediately as he processes the words that fall from Ranboo's mouth.

"Hey, I'm older than you! And you know what I meant!"

Ranboo shakes his head, turning away from the window to examine his cluttered indoor surroundings. "What building is this, anyway? I don't remember it being here last time I came over." Tubbo wants to call him out for changing the subject so abruptly but reckons it's safer if he doesn't press on the matter - at least Ranboo wants to talk now. The blizzard started so suddenly, the two of them had run into the nearest building that appeared somewhat safe. It happened to be one that Ranboo had never been inside before, as well as one that made Tubbo a little... nervous.

"It was always here - in fact, it was abandoned long before I even settled. But it was just a rundown shack, and now I've fixed it up a bit. Oh!" Tubbo slaps a fist into his open palm, smiling up at Ranboo with bright, mischievous eyes. "I actually never finished exploring the cellar. It's probably safer down there anyway, would you like to check it out?"

Ranboo hums, scanning the floor of the room until he catches sight of an awkwardly placed carpet. "Is that it?" He doesn't wait for a response, kneeling over the beige square and allowing his hand to hover over it. He's got no clue how clean it is, but his hands are tucked away inside a pair of gloves that make him feel comfortable enough to touch it regardless. Unsurprisingly, moving the carpet off to the side reveals an old, cracked trapdoor that Tubbo has evidently yet to replace.

"I suppose I didn't hide it all that well," Tubbo joins Ranboo in kneeling over the piece of spruce wood that would likely be more useful to them as kindling. "I've taken a peek, but... well, it's a bit scary, if I'm honest."

Tubbo's gaze locks on the trapdoor, his calloused fingers dancing across the splintery wood only to stop at the edge he's meant to lift at. He taps gently on it, picking at the corner with his thumb in a fashion that Ranboo easily detects as stalling. Ranboo doesn't interfere, taking this as an opportunity to observe Tubbo's mannerisms. Ranboo isn't one to be particularly curious about the nuances of any species, but Tubbo has always been somewhat perplexing on an individual level. Like his tendency to, seemingly unintentionally, say things with vastly inappropriate connotations - or the way he'll cower at the smallest threat while having no quarrels with taking out a hoard of zombies on a particularly rough venture. The way he can construct an entire town overnight and still have the energy for... unethical experimentation. He really is a piece of work - and he's somebody that Ranboo enjoys spending time with, despite the occasional conflicts of interest.

And right now he's nervous to go into his own cellar. "What's down there?" Ranboo takes note of the way Tubbo jumps at the sound of his voice, fingers gripping the trapdoor tightly to ground himself.

"Well, not much." Tubbo lifts the trapdoor carefully, a creaking sound echoing down into the dark shoot it uncovers. There's enough light at the bottom for them to see that it isn't incredibly deep and that the room at the bottom is walled with cracked stone bricks. "I may have left a lantern down there last time because I didn't want to turn my back on the darkness... you know how that is, right Ranboo?"

Instead of agreeing, Ranboo chuckles. He truly does get it, but when the world is as dangerous as it is, a dark abandoned cellar can easily be the least of someone's worries. "Do you want me to go down first?" Tubbo appears to seriously consider Ranboo's offer before a look of determination crosses his face and he climbs in without a word. "I didn't mean for that to be a challenge or anything," Ranboo calls down after him, pouting and following suit when he doesn't receive a response.

The ceiling of the room they climb down into is significantly lower than the ground floor - some kind of perfect middle ground that forces Ranboo to hunch over while simultaneously allowing Tubbo to stand up perfectly straight with more than enough breathing room. So... about 180cm. A lantern lies on its side in the middle of the room, casting dark shadows into the corners. Despite being forcibly hunched over, the room isn't too uncomfortable or creepy to Ranboo at all - that is, until he notices the perturbed expression Tubbo is aiming at the lantern. "Is there a problem?" Tubbo is nodding before the question has entirely left Ranboo's mouth, panicked eyes scanning their surroundings as if the walls are whispering to him. It's just a barren stone room with a stained white cot and an ominous spruce door on the far wall.

"This isn't where I left the lantern." Shadows dance across the room as Tubbo carefully lifts the once-forgotten lantern off the floor, aiming it up at Ranboo so that he could see the half-enderman's face clearly despite the darkness. Ranboo instinctively turns his head away - a passing thought informs Tubbo that Ranboo's eyes may have high light sensitivity when compared to a human's, but he manages to avoid acknowledging this for now. "I had it hung on that hook over there," Tubbo points towards the door with the same hand holding his lantern, lighting up the area enough to reveal a thin, cobweb-coated chain hanging near the spruce door. A rusted hook is attached at the bottom of the chain, and some disturbing thoughts of what that may have been used for in the past fill both boys' minds.

Ranboo takes a cautious step past Tubbo, one of his hands fidgeting with the hem of his oversized suit jacket as he releases a shaky breath. "It must have fallen." He may or may not believe his own words. The two lock eyes for once and Tubbo finds that he has to fight an urge to freeze under such a pointed gaze. Underneath it, however, he can tell Ranboo is just as frightened as himself.

"It couldn't have. Not unless someone was down here." Tubbo's eyes snap over to fixate on the door and his voice quiets as though he's afraid of being overheard - "I haven't opened that yet... too scary."

A few beats of silence pass between the boys before Ranboo takes another step towards the door, his hand gripping the handle with all the courage he can muster. The door rattles against his touch and something behind it stirs, scuttling away before he's even cracked it ajar. Tubbo shouts, the lantern slipping from his grip and clattering to the floor while he dashes to comfort himself by burying his face in Ranboo's back, allowing his arms to coil around him.

It's silent, both of them failing to move after the commotion passes.

Ranboo is the first to speak up. "Maybe I should hold the lantern."

A brief debate is settled with Ranboo doing exactly that, much to Tubbo's initial dismay. Ranboo reminds him that they're both well equipped to handle anything they come across down here, but it's difficult to hold onto that thought when your environment is so incredibly unwelcoming. Once they've eventually opened the spruce door they're met with a narrow, unfinished tunnel through dirt and stone. "Why would a door lead to this?" Tubbo turns up his nose, glaring into the darkness with disdain. "I expected a hall."

"Maybe there used to be one here," Ranboo suggests, ducking into the cramped tunnel. Sometimes he's jealous of shorter folk. Not often, but sometimes.

"It's a pretty tight fit, huh?" Tubbo leans away from the entrance, wringing his hands together. "Maybe I should just wait for you - AAH-!" A crash reverberates from outside the cellar and Tubbo slips into the tunnel after Ranboo, slamming the door shut behind him. "Never mind! Start walking, Ranboo, I'm right behind you!" Ranboo can't help the smile he cracks when Tubbo reacts to what he assumes is just another tree branch falling to the blizzard outside, but he saves the teasing for later. For now, they've got a bit of spelunking to do.

The tunnel is suspiciously well worn, not nearly as difficult to traverse as it first appeared to be. The end splits into two branches, and Tubbo's heart sinks when he realizes that he can just barely make out even more branches at the ends of them. "Are you thinking the same as me, big man?"

"Maybe..." Ranboo mumbles, flinching at a distant crunching sound. "I'm thinking we're not alone. You?"

"I think this is a whole tunnel system," Tubbo gulps, his hand unconsciously wandering to grip the base of Ranboo's jacket.

A low-pitched hissing sound echoes down the tunnels from the right, and as soon as a shadowed figure becomes visible the lantern is once again on the floor, this time extinguishing the light inside. The two boys make a dash for the door, taking turns shoving each other in an attempt to make it out safely in the pitch darkness. Tubbo trips on his way out, adrenaline continuing to escalate until he hears Ranboo shut the door securely behind them. "You're okay," Ranboo reassures between breaths, and while Tubbo understands that this is likely intended as self-reassurance, he tries his best to be comforted by it as well.

The light coming down from the trapdoor isn't enough for Tubbo to see anything in the room other than Ranboo's eyes, but Ranboo appears to have little to no issue seeing while he helps Tubbo back onto his feet. Tubbo has a difficult time restraining himself this time. "Can endermen see in the dark?"

Ranboo freezes briefly before letting go of Tubbo's arms, an exasperated chuckle escaping him. "Even after all that, you're still thinking about our biological differences?"

"Well I can't SEE anything right now, and you're just calm!"

"What? You're looking right at me!"

"Your eyes are GLOWING, Ranboo!!"

"Tubbo, I don't mean to alarm you, but there's something living under your house."

"I GOT THAT, THANK YOU."

Chapter 2 - Spelunking 2: Electric Boogaloo

It turns out Ranboo's eyes are capable of seeing much more acutely in low lighting than Tubbo's - he can easily discern colors in the dark and had been wholly unaware that humans grappled with such menial tasks.

"That might explain why some people describe desaturated colors as 'darker'." Ranboo dips his head, swaying back in his seat on Tubbo's cot. "That reveals a lot, actually. I always thought of 'night vision' potions as a pretty bizarre niche, but it turns out that my eyes are just better."

"We don't know that!" Tubbo crosses his arms, stirring against the wall in his spot on the floor. "There might be something our eyes can do that yours can't, right?"

Ranboo takes a second to ponder this, working a gloved finger along his cheekbone and up the rim of his eye socket in quiet contemplation. "You can shut them, I guess." He peers at Tubbo, his sights resting thoughtfully along the outer edges of Tubbo's eyes that appear so different from his own. "It looks very strange to me, but it seems useful."

"Do eyelids unsettle you?" Tubbo grimaces, peeling his eyes open with his fingers. "Because to us you look very wide-eyed all the time, it can be creepy. Especially when you're asleep."

"I wouldn't say it's unsettling," Ranboo says, making a snap decision to brush off Tubbo's comment about him being creepy. "Most species I run into have them, so I'm used to seeing them. It's just strange looking when I focus on it, that's all."

"I suppose I could get used to the lack of them if we hung out more." Tubbo grins. "I enjoy your company, I hope you know that." A peculiar warmth washes over Ranboo when Tubbo expresses this. "I know I get on your nerves sometimes, but I really don't mean to. I promise."

Ranboo reflects on Tubbo's heartfelt claim before a sneaky suspicion catches up to him. "You have another weird enderman biology question, don't you?"

"Well!" Tubbo raises his arms dramatically. "What are ender pearls, exactly? You would know!"

"Huh??" Ranboo twists over onto his stomach, inclining off the cot to scrutinize Tubbo's demeanor. "You're serious?" Every second Ranboo spends observing Tubbo's expression, the more it clouds over with humiliation. He sincerely doesn't know what an ender pearl is.

"I know that people get them from endermen!" Tubbo shields his face with his hands, his voice becoming quiet. "And I know you can use them to teleport, but what part of the enderman is it?" He peeps out between his fingers to check if Ranboo is still judging him.

As an act of charity, Ranboo decides to attempt an explanation. They lock eyes and Ranboo conceals his red one, breathing deeply to pacify the nerves that spike in response to his instinctual enderman brain trying to persuade him that Tubbo is going to strike him. "I have one here." Ranboo points at his green eye with the same hand cloaking his red one, his other arm preoccupied with supporting his position on Tubbo's cot.

Tubbo's eyelids flutter in bewilderment before he drops his hands from his face, using them to wriggle closer to Ranboo. "Your eye?" Tubbo's face grows painfully close to Ranboo's, but he doesn't appear to take notice of this, much less the sharp gasp Ranboo releases in reaction to their unexpected proximity. "Are you saying people pull the eyes out of endermen? That's messed up!" Tubbo's exclamation is timed flawlessly with a resounding crash from the blizzard outside, the strong winds startling Ranboo into hastily pulling his hand from his face and using it to shove Tubbo's away from him. He takes a deep breath, dismissing the way Tubbo topples over.

"Teleportation is all in the eye. At least for a full enderman, it is. They teleport where they're looking." Tubbo dramatically flails on the floor before sitting back up, grumbling softly to himself. "I think that most endermen don't realize humans can't teleport, so they feel threatened when you look at them as a challenger." He tilts his head. "But humans kill them for their eyes, so can you blame them?"

Tubbo promptly rams away his gut feeling that Ranboo may very well harbor genuine malice towards humankind for this behavior, and opts to instead propose a simple question. "Why are they a different color?"

Ranboo's face drops. "Because they're not glowing with that purple light anymore." The way he states this makes it sound obvious, yet Tubbo presumes that he's concealing a deeper explanation.

"Your eye is green, though. Do you know why?" Ranboo shakes his head before sitting upright and fidgeting with the hem of his gloves.

"I can't tell you that..." Ranboo likes to think of himself as immoveable - not easily swayed. But even the subtle disheartened glances Tubbo aims at him can break him down little by little, and some days he's especially susceptible to it. So he provides a little bit more. "I can tell you that there was once a point in time where all of them had eyes like this, but nowadays they'd need some repairing to get there."

It's only now that Tubbo is struck by the realization endermen knew their own history and were able to share it with Ranboo - so they must also have goals. Goals, aspirations and plans that Ranboo isn't authorized to share with him or any other human. He has so many questions, but Ranboo has chosen to spend time with humans and help them instead, so maybe he should simply be appreciative of that and savor Ranboo's company while he can. "Ranboo..." Tubbo stands up, dusting himself off. "I think I'm ready to face whatever is in those tunnels." His apprehensive eyes wander Ranboo's frame as he slips out of Tubbo's spare cot. "As long as you're willing to join me?"

Ranboo's lip curls up in amusement while he sizes Tubbo up, slipping off his gloves to reveal thin, clawed fingers that resemble more that of an enderman than a human's. The way he pops his knuckles is much unlike an enderman however, and Tubbo can't help but find it striking how one of his hands is splattered with white blotches that become more abundant around the hem of his sleeve. "Don't worry Tubbo, I'll protect you," Ranboo teases, earning a scowl out of Tubbo while he tousles the shorter teen's hair.

"Thanks, big man (derogatory), but I'll be the one doing the protecting, I think!" Tubbo grabs a worn diamond helmet from his nightstand and haphazardly yanks it over his head, effectively obscuring his vision by pushing hair over his eyes.

"We're armoring up for this?" Ranboo intends to tease Tubbo, but he can't disguise the relief in his tone - he's hardly comfortable taking his armor off inside the safety of this building, but Tubbo had insisted he did so once it became clear the blizzard wouldn't be passing anytime soon.

It takes a while for the both of them to get into all of their armor - perhaps they're stalling, but at least they'll be safer this way. "What if it's friendly?" Ranboo suggests as they kneel over the trapdoor once again, earning an elevated brow and a very pointed look from Tubbo.

"It hissed and chased us down a dark tunnel." Tubbo pauses, his hands resting across the top of the trapdoor. "Wait, could you see it?" Ranboo nods slowly.

"Yeah, a little. It's like, some kind of spider." Tubbo gapes.

"I've killed loads of those! Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"Well, it's not JUST a spider! It's something different, it's just... spider-like."

Tubbo rolls his eyes. "Well if it looks like a spider, it'll die like a spider. Let's go!" With newfound determination, Tubbo drops down into the cellar once again.

Ranboo is less sure of himself but climbs down into the cramped space shortly after. "Maybe we shouldn't jump straight to killing it, though. What if it has a family?" Tubbo stops at the door, igniting a torch before shifting to look up at Ranboo.

"True," Tubbo starts slowly, humming as he weighs their options. "We'll capture it now, and decide what to do from there."

Ranboo bends towards Tubbo clumsily, his shoulder bumping into the chain hanging from the ceiling hard enough to make it rattle noisily. "And how do you plan to capture it?" He lifts an eyebrow. "No way you're going to overpower it."

"Well, I have... this!" Tubbo pulls out the rope hanging from his belt, presenting it arrogantly for a moment before his smile falters. "Eh, I could use this as well actually." Ranboo accepts the lit torch Tubbo hands over to him and his face shifts from bemusement to shock as Tubbo grabs hold of the chain and tears it hard enough for it to snap off the ceiling, slinging it over his shoulder while wearing an entirely nonchalant mien. "I'm sure we'll figure something out when we run into it."

Ranboo is still gawking when Tubbo swings the old spruce door open and turns to him expectantly, urging Ranboo to find words. "You're not nervous at all?"

"It's just a spider! And you have the light, so go in first please." His sentence ends more timidly than it begins, giving Ranboo the impression that his method of resolution is sheer forced willpower. That should be sufficient though, and Ranboo does his best to replicate this energy when he steps into the tunnel. Full netherite makes him nearly indestructible even when things get the jump on him - he should be perfectly fine! Tubbo clearly has a mental advantage, as he's managed to convince himself that this creature is JUST a spider, whereas Ranboo knows first-hand that it's much more threatening than one.

They don't need to travel far to start hearing muffled scuttling in the distance, but it's impossible to determine where it's coming from. Ranboo startles when he feels something clutch his free hand but eases up when he recognizes it as Tubbo attempting to compose himself. He curls his fingers around Tubbo's, moderately surprised by how rough they feel without his gloves on. They don't feel like the hands of someone who would be nervous in this scenario, but It's not as if Ranboo looks like someone who would be afraid either. Perhaps the two boys aren't so dissimilar.

Ranboo hesitates when his foot comes in contact with something metal resting on the ground, peering down to see the now twice-forgotten lantern extinguished in the darkness. "Ah, whoops," Ranboo feels a tad guilty for leaving it here but knows Tubbo would have done the same. He dismisses the disappointed noise coming from Tubbo's direction when he separates their hands to pick up the lantern, using the torch to reignite it before offering it to Tubbo. "Maybe holding this will help..." Ranboo mutters, and Tubbo handles it appreciatively.

Tubbo gazes at the lantern for a while before inspecting the entrances of both branches in the tunnel. "Should we split up?" This question understandably takes Ranboo off guard.

"Split up?" Ranboo waves the torch at Tubbo, who backs away barely in time to not have his clothes singed. He wants to scold Ranboo for trusting his reflexes too much, but it doesn't appear to be a good time for that. "I think we're good like this, thanks." Tubbo shrugs, turning his nose up away from Ranboo. "Besides, you're the only one with equipment to trap it."

"You're a giant! Just grab it!"

"GRAB IT? No way!"

Their bickering is cut short when the unsettling hiss from earlier returns and Ranboo's immediate reaction is to deliberately extinguish his torch, seemingly to get a better look at the creature that is now peering around the corner of the tunnel they're standing at the mouth of. This action perplexes Tubbo - can Ranboo see BETTER in low lighting? Ugh! Now isn't the time! Tubbo speaks up softly, wary that the creature could possibly rush them at any instant. "Should we wait for it to come to us?"

Ranboo releases the extinguished torch stick and unsheaths his sword, hazy lilac swirls dripping from the enchanted weapon and dissipating into the air as he holds it steady in front of him. "Well, you have the light." Tubbo tenses his jaw, understanding that Ranboo is entrusting him to personally make the first move.

The creature's infinite eyes are scarcely visible to Tubbo, and he's profoundly disturbed by the mass burden weighing on him as it observes him shifting the chain from his shoulder so that he can fasten it to his waistband. He maneuvers the rope from a hook on his belt, swapping it out for the lantern so his hands are free to handle the rope with more precision. "You better back me up," Tubbo mutters, methodically arranging the rope in his hands while his face scrunches up in concentration.

"I'm right behind you." Tubbo takes Ranboo's word as a cue to move, gradually invading the tunnel and squinting in an effort to make out the creature's form. It sounds another warning hiss before thin, glistening black pincers reveal themselves. Tubbo squeaks in alarm but covers it by clearing his throat. It hasn't made any sudden movements, but the more it exposes itself the more Tubbo feels like he needs to retreat.

Ranboo sounds surprisingly calm from behind him. "Careful, that looks venomous." Tubbo juts a lip out, glowering at the creature. He would glare at Ranboo, but he doesn't exactly want to let this entity out of his sights.

"What ARE you?" He doesn't know what he expects from asking this giant arachnid monstrosity questions, but it sure isn't entertained by it. The creature dashes out and it takes every thread of Tubbo's being to hold his ground. It's definitely not... 'just a spider.' He lassoes the pincers without a hitch, but this isn't as much of a hindrance to the creature as he first hoped. "It has a- AH-!" Tubbo barely evades a massive scorpion-like stinger, eyes wide as he observes it wriggling around, lodged into the wall near his torso. He acts on the first thought that comes to his mind, ripping the chain from his waistband and hooking it into the tail - rusty iron splitting through the creature's compacted flesh and evoking a loud, blood-curdling cry.

Tubbo recoils and staggers away from the shriek, his grasp on the chain slipping. He's able to keep hold of the rope, but when the creature succeeds in dislodging its tail from the wall it only becomes more deadly with a dense iron chain swaying from it. It's got six wiry legs, mobility only restricted due to Tubbo's hold on its pincers. He's run out of ideas by the time it's lurching at him again, his reflexes being the only thing that save him when the stinger comes at his face head-on and he manages to free one of his hands to seize its tail at arm's length. He pulls up on the rope while slipping a foot onto what he understands to be the creature's face, another loud hiss filling the tunnel from the hostile beast. "Ranboo! Do something!" Tubbo grinds his teeth, adrenaline working as his sole savior while the creature strives to wrestle its stinger out of his waning grip.

When the tail inevitably slips from Tubbo's hand he truly believes it's over for him, moving to cover his face while his other hand grips the rope impossibly tight for emotional support. His eyes are sealed shut before he hears the chain clattering to the floor, and it takes a few ticks for the implication of that to sink in.

"Ranboo?" Tubbo blinks his eyes open, adapting to the sight manifesting itself in front of him. The creature is still grappling with his grip, but it's manageable - Ranboo has lodged his sword through one of the chain links and into the tunnel floor, restricting the tail's movement almost entirely.

Ranboo's hands shift across the handle of his blade as he kneels down, dangling his head while he takes a deep breath. "Sorry, I... froze a little. I should have helped sooner." Despite the throbbing pace of his heartbeat, Tubbo can only manage a languid sigh of relief.

"You can make up for it by helping me contain this."

Chapter 3 - Guest Room Away From Home

Tubbo allows his body to topple into a half-meter of snow, unphased by the icy winds lashing his nose and cheeks. He hasn't had a proper opportunity to rest for hours, and it's beginning to catch up to him.

Ranboo peers down at him, brushing his once-again gloved hands close to his chest to keep warm. "You don't plan to leave it in there, right?" Ranboo stoops down to gaze into the shed's barred window, sulking when he catches sight of the restrained creature huddled in the corner. "You didn't even give it any food."

"She has water!" Tubbo throws his hands in the air as he sits up, watching Ranboo with an expectant gaze. "And I'm going to find out what she likes to eat once Mr. Manifold gets back from his top-secret mission." Ranboo doesn't trouble himself with asking any questions concerning the top-secret mission, instead choosing to wordlessly take hold of Tubbo's arms and pull him to his feet. "This is a temporary holding space as well, I'll build something more comfortable for her once the weather calms down some more."

"That's fair, the wind is making the cold much harder to bear," Ranboo says, neglecting to let go of Tubbo's arms once he's risen. "And I hate the feeling of snow melting against my skin." Tubbo nods in understanding, taking notice of the subtle shivering he can feel through their hand-to-arm contact.

"I'll fashion you a proper jacket for your next visit," Tubbo grins, tearing his arms out of Ranboo's hold so that he can run his hands across the collar of Ranboo's suit jacket. Ranboo recoils, rigidly stumbling away from the unexpected contact. "Oops," Tubbo chuckles, clutching Ranboo's hand with both of his instead, an action Ranboo doesn't protest. "Let me take your measurements!" Tubbo brings Ranboo's hand up to his chest in a begging movement, gazing up at him with his deep, puppy-like eyes. "Please?"

"You really don't have to do that-"

"PLEASE, Ranboo! Let me take your measurements and make you a luxurious Snowchester jacket, we could be matching!"

Ranboo caves to this request after little resistance, Tubbo eagerly hauling him back into the only building they had cleared a path to through the snow. Ranboo winces while witnessing Tubbo thoughtlessly cast his diamond helmet into a pile of leftover wooden planks, allowing his severely fractured chestplate to clatter against the floorboards. He leaves his legplates and greaves on, to which Ranboo is sincerely thankful he doesn't need to watch Tubbo mishandle more valuable equipment.

"Alright!" Tubbo kneels down to rummage through a spruce chest, drawing out a long, charcoal-marked woolen cloth. "If you don't mind, I need you down to your shirt for this." Ranboo nods, gingerly placing his helmet and chestplate on the armor stand by the door. Tubbo speaks up again, the words forcing Ranboo to momentarily lock up before slowly turning to gawk at the shorter teen.

"What was that?" He asks incredulously, eyebrows shooting up when Tubbo responds by turning a deep red.

"Wait, that sounded really weird - I just meant-"

"Did you just say 'I like it when you undress for me,' or am I beginning to develop severe auditory processing issues?"

"I phrased that VERY poorly!" Tubbo drops the wool cloth and holds up his hands in submission, redness refusing to leave his features from both the cold and mortification.

"Do I even want to know what you meant?"

"Yes!" Tubbo moves to grab Ranboo's jacket sleeve, distressed by the way Ranboo dodges this motion while eyeing him warily. "I just meant that I'm happy you trust me enough to take your armor off!" Tubbo reasons, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping in a manner that has the lantern on his belt rattling against his legplates. "I know you don't feel very safe without it."

"How does 'I appreciate that you feel comfortable enough around me to remove your netherite armor' become 'I like it when you undress for me,' Tubbo?"

"I don't know! I swear I'm not like this on purpose," Tubbo holds his face in his hands, twisting away from the half-enderman that stands in his doorway. "Just take the jacket off. I promise I won't make it weird."

A heavy piece of fabric is draped over Tubbo's head and shoulders, startling him out of his daze. He doesn't expect it to be Ranboo's jacket, but that's exactly what he sees when he pulls it off to inspect it at arm's length. "It's bigger than I thought," he pronounces plainly, and Ranboo suppresses a laugh. Tubbo's eyes snap up to meet Ranboo's "What's funny about that?"

"Nothing," Ranboo lies, clearing his throat to regain his composure. "Just - let's get this over with, I guess."

Tubbo slings the jacket over his shoulder and picks the woolen strip off the floor before swinging to round up the stairs that sat in the corner of the cluttered room. "Right, just come with me."

"Now you're having me join you in your bedroom," Ranboo remarks, an amused smile dancing across his features while Tubbo stumbles ahead of him.

"There are no stools down there, okay?" Tubbo is enthusiastically holding out his measuring cloth when Ranboo enters the bedroom, patting the edge of his cot. "I just need you to sit on the bed so I can reach better."

"You're being so forward," Ranboo teases, and this time Tubbo rolls his eyes.

"Now who's making it weird, big man? I'm trying to do something nice for you!"

"Oh yeah you are."

"Yeah, I am!! Sit on the bed!" He pulls Ranboo by the arm, forcing the enderboy to half-stumble into a sitting position on the edge of his cot, netherite greaves clanking against the hardwood floor as his legs fold uncomfortably in the low seat. "This shouldn't take long," he says, crawling behind Ranboo and spreading the cloth along his broad shoulders.

"Probably not a good idea to sit on the bed with your shoes on like that," Ranboo comments, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Tubbo's focused expression.

It takes a moment for Tubbo to register Ranboo's remark, but he answers readily once it sinks in. "Nobody actually sleeps here." Tubbo compels Ranboo's arm out, measuring the length of his shirt sleeve while murmuring the measurements to himself repeatedly. Ranboo decides not to intervene, knowing that he could scuff the measurements if he distracts Tubbo now.

Once Tubbo has recorded a few numbers on a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, Ranboo pipes up again. "You put a bed in a building nobody sleeps in?"

"Yeah, I suppose you could think of it as a guest bedroom." Tubbo slides out of the cot, dusting off the spot he had been sitting in before Ranboo sprawls out into it, slinging his arms out above him.

"Welp, it's small, but it'll do!" Ranboo laughs, and Tubbo raises a hand to his chin in deliberation.

"Do you want to stay here, by any chance?" Ranboo covers his face with an arm, a lighthearted sigh passing his lips.

"We've been over this. Living in settlements like this doesn't end well for me."

Tubbo huffs, opening his arms. "I'm not asking you to move in, I'm just offering to reserve this guest room for you." He glances at the window, darkness creeping in as the sun sets over the horizon. "And for you to stay the night here, so you don't have to travel until morning."

Ranboo chuckles. "You know what? Sure." He peers up at Tubbo from his position lying in the cot, propping himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of the human boy's welcoming demeanor. "It's not my house though, alright?" Tubbo pumps his fist triumphantly.

"Yeah, it's my house!" Tubbo agrees, whirling on his heel to scuffle down the stairs. "I'm still writing 'Ranboo my Beloved' on the welcome mat, though." Ranboo falls back onto the cot, smiling to himself momentarily before he rolls off to follow Tubbo down to the ground floor.

"You're armoring up again?" Ranboo asks, visibly alarming Tubbo while he struggles to tie his chestplate back on.

"Oh, I just have some things I need to take care of before Mr. Manifold returns tonight." He runs a hand over the back of his neck, and Ranboo notices that he's hung his suit jacket over the second armor stand he perpetually fails to make proper use of. "You're free to stay here, make yourself... at home..." Tubbo worries his lip clumsily, forgetting his helmet abandoned on the floor when he swings open the front door. The lantern on his hip illuminates the front porch, alerting Ranboo to how quickly the daylight is slipping away. "Or you can wander around a bit if that's your thing. I trust you not to go into any restricted areas." Tubbo simpers sweetly, securing the door behind him before Ranboo has an opportunity to react.

"What an odd little man," Ranboo notes, his brow furrowing at the closed door. He doesn't sleep very well that night.

Energetic knocking rouses Ranboo from a night of light sleep, his heart racing thanks to a dream that he can scarcely recall coupled with his foreign surroundings - an uncomfortably small cot in a confined bedroom, the window on the far wall being the only sign he's above ground. "Ranboo!" Tubbo calls, stifled by the walls that separate them. Ranboo's lips part to welcome a jittery breath as the memories fall into place, his eyes darting to meet the staircase he wouldn't have known to look for a minute ago.

"Ranboo, my beloved! Are you up - oh!" Tubbo's eyes brighten when Ranboo opens the door for him, a broad smile gracing his lips. "Good morning, sunshine!" Ranboo huffs, failing to contain the smile he catches from Tubbo's infectious attitude.

"Good morning Tubbo." Ranboo can't help notice how Tubbo is underdressed for the weather, his armor and vest missing from his usual Snowchester attire. "Aren't you cold?" Tubbo welcomes himself inside, stretching his arms above his head before he kneels down in front of the furnace.

"I've been shoveling snow all morning, gets the blood pumping. WOO!" Tubbo shakes his hands in front of the furnace, beaming over at Ranboo. "My hands are numb!"

"Well I'm gonna head out before you ask me to help you with that," Ranboo says, seizing his suit jacket from the armor stand and tugging it over his shoulders, fastening the buttons as he speaks. "Thanks for letting me stay overnight, it's been... nice. I enjoy your company. I think."

"Ah wait!" Tubbo scrambles to his feet, pressing his hands out to signal Ranboo to stop. "Don't leave yet, I have something for you!" He slips outside without further notice, leaving Ranboo to halt in bewilderment before he finishes armoring up and waits anxiously for the human boy to return.

It doesn't take long, and this time Tubbo enters the building without knocking. A perplexed look crosses Ranboo's features as he peers at Tubbo, who now stands empty-handed in front of him. "So... we haven't finished that jacket I promised just yet, but I, uh," Tubbo chuckles restlessly, his fingers tugging loosely at his collar. "You remember the cellar, right? And the creature we captured together?"

Ranboo needs to think on that for a moment but can recall it well enough. "Yeah, and then we spent hours wrangling it into a holding cell." Ranboo inclines towards Tubbo skeptically. "I don't... want the animal, Tubbo."

Tubbo squints, compressing his lips together in an attempt to stop a laugh from escaping. "I wasn't going to pawn her off to you, don't worry," Tubbo reassures, glancing down at the lantern secured to his belt. That wasn't there when he came in earlier, was it? "I wanted to thank you for helping me with that, it would've been a lot more difficult without you." His hands travel down to the lantern, carefully unfastening it from his belt and holding it up between the two of them with both hands. "The one who holds this light makes the first move... In combat, I mean. That's a signal we decided on yesterday, and it's something only the two of us would understand."

"You're... giving me a lantern?" Ranboo asks, accepting it from Tubbo and holding it up to get a closer look.

"Think of it as a memento of sorts." Tubbo rocks back on his heels, his gaze focused on Ranboo as the taller boy gives him a slow nod.

Despite everything, Ranboo trusts himself to remember what this lantern means. A memento of his bond with Tubbo, and a way to convey an idea between the two of them that nobody else will understand.

The next time Ranboo sees a lantern lying forgotten on a cave floor, he thinks of Tubbo. Even though, at that moment, he can't quite recall why.

[bucketsofgiggles]

To Be There

Steven Universe Future fanfic, a missing scene from "Growing Pains", from Greg's POV. Greg tries to be the best father he can, considering the circumstances, as he also grapples with the idea he hasn't been the best father. AO3 link in the reblog.

As Steven shrunk back down to normal size, Greg quickly reached out to pull his son into an embrace. He's relieved when Steven accepts it readily, considering what he had just recently been through. And there was clearly much more going on that Greg wasn’t aware of.

“ How am I supposed to live my life when it always feels like I’m about to die? ”

Those words kept echoing. What exactly had led Steven to feel such a way? How had he, as a father, not noticed such a drastic change in his son?

There’s a quick nock on the door, which causes Steven to tense in his arms. Rubbing his son’s back, Greg turns his head to see who walked in. Dr. Priyanka Maheswaran stands just inside the room, shutting the door behind her, a stack of papers in her arms. She meets his eyes as the door shuts and the initial look of fury the doctor gives him makes Greg jump. While her professional face slips back on quickly, Steven still notices.

“You okay, Dad?” His voice is muffled in Greg’s shoulder and he spots Dr. Maheswaran’s eyes soften at the question.

“Yeah, Schtew-ball, it’s just Dr. Maheswaran.”

“...Without Connie?”

Yeah, that’s gonna be a sore spot for a bit. “Yep, just her.”

She doesn’t move when she speaks up. “Take all the time you need, Steven.”

Steven takes a few more big, shuddering breaths, squeezes his father tightly for a second, then breaks away. He rubs his eyes slightly as he looks around Greg for Dr. Maheswaran. “I’m ready now.”

She nods in response. “I have some questionnaires I need you to fill out. Please answer them honestly,” She states, crossing the room to Steven and hands him the papers and a pen. “I’m going to speak to your father in my office for a bit, so please wait here until we return. Feel free to put your regular clothes back on.”

Steven nods and heads over to a desk in the corner of the room, gabbing his clothes along the way. He glances over the top sheet of the stack. Greg didn’t get a chance to see what kind of “questionnaires” they were exactly.

With Steven’s back turned, Dr. Maheswaran levels Greg a withering glare. Whatever she wants to speak with him about in her office, it can’t be good. Greg swallows hard as he turns to follow her out of the exam room. He turns back in the doorway.

“Steven, please text me if you need anything, okay?” He glances up from the papers, and gives his dad a ghost of a smile as he nods. Greg doesn’t miss the way his face falls as he turns back towards the papers, his narrowing eyes storming as he reads.

Following Dr. Maheswaran to her office, he is very much reminded of his school day trips to the principal. But there are two very different factors now: A. Greg hasn’t the foggiest idea why Dr. Maheswaran is so angry at him and B. His son is involved somehow. Has Steven been hurt? Was someone hurting him? Why didn’t Steven tell him? Or the Gems?

They walk in, Dr. Maheswaran shutting the door behind him, and silently indicates for him to take a seat. The office is just as meticulous as Greg expected, with not a single piece of paper or chart out of place. The filing cabinets are clearly labeled, the textbooks and journals on the selves are in alphabetical order by author last name, and her screensaver is the same family picture from the Maheswaran’s New Years card. The only personal effects are her medical degrees and licenses hanging on the wall and a few framed pictures of Connie and her husband on her desk. She quickly sits down behind the desk and tents her hands, obscuring her mouth but leaving her furious eyes well exposed.

“So, uh,” Greg desperately tries to break the tension. “How did your exam go-”

“Greg Universe, please explain to me how your teenage son has never been to a doctor before?” She doesn’t yell, but her tone is withering. Greg feels himself slide down in his seat in shame.

“Well, uh, the lack of health insurance sure didn’t help.”

“There are programs to help with that, especially for single parents.”

“Yeah, but how was I supposed to explain Steven to any doctor? You gotta realize he wasn’t born in a hospital, or even in a…” Greg fumbles on his words, cursing the way his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “You know, typical way.”

“Well that’s why he seemed confused when I asked for his social security number. Does he even have a birth certificate?”

“No…”

“Has he even been vaccinated?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in them! But with his physiology, I had no idea how they would react-”

“ Greg Universe ”

“Look, things were chaotic! My wife was dead, I had a newborn son who isn’t even fully human, I was alternating living out of my van and crashing on a friends couch, without health insurance! And do you think if I had taken him in and said ‘Hey, here’s my newborn son with a gemstone stuck in his naval. His mother was an immortal alien being who fought a war to defend the Earth thousands of years ago, and died to give birth to him. I’m raising him alongside her fellow alien friends who also have gemstones stuck in their bodies. Oh, and I didn’t even have the type of gemstone right at the time because his mother lied about who she was to escape her horrible home planet! ’ How would you have reacted?”

“It did take me witnessing Steven in action to fully believe it," Dr. Maheswaran shrugs a bit, her face relaxing slightly.

“Look, I did strongly consider it multiple times, but I was afraid of how they’d treat him. Plus, Steven never got sick or injured. Never. Not even those non-stop sniffles little kids get. Not a cold, not a fever, not a stomach bug; he was exceptionally healthy his entire childhood. Heck, he never even scraped his knees!”

Dr. Maheswaran sighs at that. “That actually leads well into one thing I found that we need to discuss.” She turns towards her computer screen, shakes the mouse to wake it up, and starts typing and clicking rapidly, leaving Greg clueless as to what she meant. Did Steven get hurt? Was he sick? After all these years and all the various incredible things he’s done, it seemed almost comical.

Then Dr. Maheswaran turned her screen around, and any thought of this situation being a comedy died. It's an x-ray of an upper body labeled “Universe, Steven ''. He didn’t need a doctor’s trained eye to see the various cracks and fracture lines running throughout Steven’s skeletal system, spiderwebbing through his ribs, spiraling down his upper arms, and some truly large and painful-looking breaks to his face.

“H- how?” Greg sputters, though he knows the reason - Steven’s healing powers.

“It seems that Steven’s Gem half is able to instantaneously heal any physical injury, major or minor, he experiences. The bones set and re-heal from the moment they break.” She hits the arrow keys and a few more images scroll past: His arms, legs, back, close-ups of his face, hands, and feet. All of them have some healed fracture lines on them, evidence that despite him never saying a word, Steven had been getting severely hurt for years. His son was getting this badly injured and Greg never noticed. Despite the horror gnawing at his gut, he couldn’t look away.

“Now, this is unprecedented in the medical field. Miraculous, even. And every test I ran on your son came back negative. Steven is physically a perfectly healthy teenage boy, even with his injury history.”

“Well then, that’s good, right?”

Dr. Maheswaran sighed. “These kinds of injuries...some of them only occur in cases of severe physical trauma. And Steven listed for me a number of incredibly severe, repeated instances of traumatic experiences he went through as a child. And then he indicated to me that that wasn’t all of them. I know his upbringing and heritage is...unusual, but he still has human anatomy and a human mind. And any human, especially a child or teenager, who went through that number and level of traumatic experiences for as long as he did is going to experience some mental effects.

“The questionnaires I gave Steven before we left the room were diagnostic screeners for Adverse Childhood Experiences, Major Depressive Disorder in teens, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in teens. And I might not be a psychiatrist, but I can say, based on my exam and conversation with Steven, that I am 98% certain of the PTSD diagnosis and 95% on the depression diagnosis. Those screeners are just a last bit of confirmation, as well as further evidence for his chart. Mr. Universe, your son is experiencing major mental health challenges.”

Greg stares at the doctor, slack jawed. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels a tear trace down his cheek. He goes to brush it away, and finds his hands are shaking. “I-I don’t...how did I not see?”

Dr. Maheswaran gives Greg a look of sympathy for the first time. “Honestly, I don’t think Steven even realizes just how much an effect all his traumatic experiences have had on him. That’s not at all uncommon, especially in cases like his where multiple traumatic events were experienced.” Greg groans, and Dr. Maheswaran pulls a box of tissues out from behind her desk and hands them to him. “Steven has experienced so many traumatic events that his body and mind have almost gotten used to being in mortal peril. But now that he no longer isn’t experiencing that, his body isn’t used to dealing with much more minor forms of stress, so it does what it’s used to; preparing for a potentially deadly scenario.”

And Steven’s words finally make sense. Steven has spent years realistically believing he might die, and now it’s all he’s ever known. All those Gem missions, over all the years… Greg had let him go. Greg had allowed Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl to take his son out on various dangerous, potentially deadly missions multiple times. And he stayed back, not wanting to get involved in a world he didn’t belong to. And even when he began to express concerns about it, Steven and the Gems all reassured him that things were fine. Steven had seemed fine . And Greg knew in his heart that if he pulled Steven away from Crystal Gem business, if he forbade him from going on missions, Steven might not have forgiven him.

Greg wonders now if he should’ve risked that anyway.

“So, what do I do now?”

“We can help your son. Rest assured, you are not alone in helping Steven deal with this. I will take on the role of Steven’s general practitioner. There is an excellent child psychologist in this hospital, Dr. Jeanne Greenlow, who I will refer Steven too, and I will make sure she fully understands his...unusual background. Unless something is indicated on the screeners I gave him, I expect that Steven will go home with you today.”

Dr. Maheswaran stands up, walks over to Greg, kneels down so they are at eye level, and places a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes have softened considerably, and the touch on his shoulder is fully comforting. “What you can do for Steven, right now, is take him home and be there for him. That, as his father, is the best thing you can do for him at this moment.”

Greg can tell that in every aspect of Dr. Maheswaran’s behavior, from her posture to her expression to her vocal tone, she was not speaking as a doctor, but as a fellow parent. Some of the panic that’s in him dies down as he meets her eyes. “I will, I promise.”

She nods, then stands up. “Let’s go see if he’s done.” Greg agrees, getting up and following her out of the door and back down the hospital hallways. His mind still swarms, but he pushes it all aside for now. He needs to focus on Steven, on what he needs, on being the best father he can be. Which is apparently going to have to be far better than what Greg has done so far.

As they approach the exam room, Dr. Maheswaran stops, spins around, and gives Greg another hard look. It’s not nearly as severe as some of her earlier ones, but it still makes him shudder a bit. “You need to discuss this with the Gems. Promise me you’ll do that.”

He blinks, slightly shocked. “Of course, I promise.”

She spins back around, takes a deep breath, puts on a much more soothing face, and opens the exam room door. Greg follows quickly enough behind to see Steven, now dressed in his regular clothes, sitting on the exam table, phone in hand. When his eyes meet Greg’s face, his pupils shrink and Greg realizes it’s obvious he’s been crying. Another pang of guilt hits him for making Steven worry again, so he puts on a smile as he walks over to the table and sits next to Steven. Almost instinctively, Steven scooches close and Greg puts his arm around his son. Knowing the news Dr. Maheswaran is about to break to him, Greg figures more hugs are better.

“Did you finish the questionnaires?” She asks, her tone far more gentle than anything she used with Greg, which does not at all make him angry. If anything, he’s grateful to Dr. Maheswaran for how well she’s handled this situation. Steven nods, handing her the stack of papers. “Great, give me a few minutes to put your answers into the computer.”

As she heads over to the desktop sitting on the corner desk and begins typing, Steven lays his head on Greg’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” His voice is whispered, creaking slightly.

“Don’t apologize for anything, Steven. Absolutely none of this is your fault.”

“It’s not good news, is it?”

Greg sighs. “No, but it’s not the end of the world either, kiddo. We’ll get through it. I’ll help you get through it.”

They sit, silent only for the sound of typing. After a few more minutes, Dr. Maheswaran gives a little hum at whatever pops up on her monitor, then turns towards the two of them. Her eyes are soft and full of sympathy. Greg pulls Steven closer as she approaches, sits down close to Steven, and begins to explain the diagnoses. She tells him everything she already told Greg in her office, and that she’s already sent his chart with a referral note to Dr. Greenlow’s office.

“Once the referral is processed, your father will get a call from her office to schedule an appointment.” At this, Dr. Maheswaran gives a pointed look at Greg, with the unspoken and he will pick up that phone call and make the appointment clearly in her gaze.

“Wait, why does Dad need to make the appointment? I could do it.” Steven asks.

“It’s protocol, as you’re still a minor in the eyes of the law.”

Greg can see the refutes brewing in Steven’s brain, up to and including his dismantling of a millennium-long, multi-galaxy, tyrannical rule, but he’s clearly too physically and mentally tired to make the argument.

At the end, Dr. Maheswaran gives Greg a polite handshake, and then, after a moment's hesitation, pulls Steven into a hug. Though she whispers, he can still make out the words she says to Steven. “I know things between you and Connie are...difficult right now, but she wanted me to tell you that she’s ready to talk whenever you are. She’s okay with waiting because she wants you to be comfortable first. So, don't push yourself, okay?"

Steven pulls away, wiping a tear from his eye. “Thanks, Dr. Maheswaran.”

“Of course, Steven. Feel better, and please, reach out if you need to see me again.”

Greg and Steven agree and they leave the room, Greg grabbing the duffle he had dropped outside the exam room when he spotted Steven through the window. It had just a few days worth of clothes and essentials, but he had more of his stuff still at the car wash, and he could use Steven’s washer and dryer for laundry. He had to leave the van with Sadie and Shep; they had dropped him off in front of the hospital and went on, the tour still tentatively on unless they heard otherwise from him. He would have to call them, but decided it could wait until tomorrow.

Steven pulling the Dondai keys from his jacket pocket answered the question of how to get home before Greg could ask it. But as they got to the parking lot and approached the car, Steven stopped short.

“Do you want me to drive?” Greg asked.

“...Yeah, I’m a bit tired.” Steven said, handing the keys over.

Greg got the car unlocked so Steven could sit down, threw his duffle in the trunk, then got in and began driving back towards Beach City. The ride starts silent, Steven staring out the window blankly. Greg has never been the one to ride in silence; it makes him uneasy to not have some music in the background. After checking the tape deck and finding it empty, he fiddles with the radio until he finds the radio station Shep had stumbled upon, which plays a lot of soft, acoustic music. It had been good post-show calm-down tracks, and Greg feels that it would be best after everything that had happened. He knows he’s right when he glances at Steven and sees him smiling softly, fingers tapping along on the window.

They approach the house, and the pair get out of the car, Steven grabbing Greg’s duffle for him. The two enter, Greg calling out a “Hey, we’re home. And by we, I mean I’m here with Steven.”

“The Gems aren’t here,” Steven says behind him. “Little Homeschool field trips, they’ll be back tomorrow."

“Well, then it’s just you and me, lil man. Like the old days.”

“Yeah, like the old days…” Steven replies, a little wistful. “You sure you’ll be okay on the couch?”

“Yeah, my back ain’t that old yet,” Greg states, but the little pang that he feels when he says that argues otherwise. But Steven doesn’t need to know that; the last thing he needs to feel is guilty.

“Okay. I’m gonna uh…” Steven starts as he climbs up the stairs, but his voice trailing off soon turns into a groan.

“What’s going on?”

“I forgot I left my room a mess.”

Greg climbs up the stairs, and manages to push down the sound of shock he feels climbing up his throat. While not meticulous, Steven did like to keep his space orderly and clean (although Greg figures Pearl had no small part in that). So the complete mess - cartons of melted ice cream, dirty bowls stacked on top of each other, clothes strewn about, bed unmade - of his son’s room was quite shocking. Greg only feels more guilty at not noticing something sooner; the seriousness of this was made all the more clear.

He spots Steven’s shoulders sag as they take in the state of his room, and Greg knows he needs to make things as easy on him as possible. “Hey, don’t worry about it, Schtew-ball. I’ll clean this up. You go grab your pajamas and go downstairs to get changed.”

“But, Dad, it’s my room and my mess. I should handle it.”

“Steven, it’s okay, you’ve had a long day. I don’t mind helping you out a bit.”

There’s a few seconds before Steven sighs, telling Greg he’s won. “Okay, but let me take the bowls downstairs and wash them, if I’m going to head down anyway.”

Greg decides not to argue, knowing Steven will feel better by helping a little bit. He was never one to let others do a job he felt responsible for. As he grabs his pajamas and the bowls and heads back downstairs, Greg wonders if that’s partly what led to all of this. The task of picking up the room allows him to not dwell on that thought.

Once he’s done, Greg heads downstairs, Steven’s bedding in his arms. As he turns the corner into the living room, he sees Steven on the couch, scrolling through his phone, the bowls and spoons lined up perfectly on the drying rack by the sink. “Hey, the laundry room’s still on the hand with the warp pad, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Figured it might be good to give your sheets a wash, but if you gotta warp me up there-”

“No, no, that’s okay. Honestly, they probably need it.”

They quickly head up to the laundry set-up outside and throw Steven’s bedding in the machine. When they warp back down, Steven’s stomach rumbles.

“Been a while since you ate?”

“Yeah, and it was mostly ice cream…” Steven says, making his way over to the kitchen. Greg follows as Steven looks through his cupboards and fridge, shoulders shagging as he mumbles different meal options under his breath, accounting for prep and cook time and if there’s enough for two.

“Hey, Steven,” Greg finally interrupts the third time Steven debates the box of pasta. “Let’s just call Fish Stew Pizza for dinner and have a pizza-and-a-bad-movie night, like we did when you were a kid. Sound like fun?”

Steven glances at the cupboard again, then grins at him. It’s not nearly as large as Steven’s typical smiles, but it’s the largest he’s given today and Greg’s heart is full.

Steven goes back up to his room to go through his movie collection while Greg calls Fish Stew and places their typical delivery order. As he finishes, the ordering process elongated by Kofi getting on the line and catching up, Steven returns downstairs with one of the Boomerang Blade movies. Greg would’ve gone with whatever Steven wanted, but he definitely can’t say no when he sees the smile still on his son’s face.

They move Steven’s bedding to the dryer and start the movie, curling under blankets at the foot of his bed. About 20 minute in, there’s a knock at the door.

“That must be the pizza, I’ll run down and get it,” Greg says as Steven reaches to hit the pause button. He makes his way back downstairs and opens the door for Kiki, holding the extra large box in her hands.

“Hey, Mr. Universe! Didn’t believe you were in town when my dad mentioned it. What happened to the tour?”

“Oh it’s still going on, but uh…” Greg glances up the stairs. Steven certainly wouldn’t want Greg telling Kiki, or anybody else for that matter, about his PTSD diagnosis without his permission. “Steven had something come up so I decided to pay him a visit and help.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” She says as Greg hands her the money. “Tell him I said hello!”

“Will do, have a good night!”

Greg makes his way back up the stairs, balancing the box in one hand, and spots Steven’s eyes the moment he re-enters his room. There’s a level of fear and embarrassment in there. “Was that Kiki?” Greg nods as he sits back down on the floor, putting the box between them. Steven grabs a slice and stares at it a moment. “Did she say anything about you being here?”

“Yeah, but I just said you had something come up, so I decided to visit.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nope,” Greg pauses as he takes a slice of his own, and takes in the concern on his son’s face. “I won’t tell anyone about the PTSD or anything else that happened today without you being there or without your permission. But,” he interjects when the relief starts to flood Steven’s face. “Dr. Maheswaran wants us to tell the Gems. And honestly, I agree with her. At least Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl. They raised you, they were around you for a lot of what you went through, you still live with them. They need to know what’s going on.”

Greg holds his breath while Steven processes what he just said. He hates pilling it all on now, but it needs to be said and discussed and the conversation led there naturally. With the Gems out until tomorrow, they need to plan out how the conversation will go.

“You’re right,” Steven finally says. “They need to, should, know what happened.”

“Right. So, how do you want to handle it? Do you want to do it on your own, do you want me to do it?”

There’s another pause as Steven thinks. Greg hates putting stress on him, especially after everything, but it’s better now than throwing him into a situation tomorrow he’s unprepared for. “Can we both do it? Together?”

“Of course, Schtew-ball. I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

There’s another small smile, and it stays as Steven turns back towards the TV and unpauses the movie.

They go through the movie and the pizza, Steven taking care of more than half the box himself. Greg lets him; that Gem-stress response looks like it took a lot of energy. Once the credits roll, they venture back up to the laundry hand to grab Steven’s bedding from the dryer, then warp back downstairs. As Greg passes the kitchen, an idea comes to him.

“Hey, do you mind making your bed? I’ve got to do something real quick.”

“Uh, okay, sure.” Steven says, then heads upstairs. Once he’s around the corner, Greg runs to the cupboard, rifling through and- Ah ha! He thought he spotted the hot cocoa packaging. He grabs a mug and some milk, warms it up, and stirs the cocoa and marshmallows in until it looks perfectly soothing. As quickly as he can without spilling, he makes his way up the stairs to see Steven smoothing the corners of his duvet.

His eyebrows raise at the mug. “I still have hot cocoa?”

“I spotted the box while you were looking through earlier. A hot drink never made anyone feel worse.” There’s a little grin as Greg approaches the bed and Steven climbs in, old routines coming back despite the years. Steven sips and they chat a bit more about the day and what has to come tomorrow. Soon, Steven starts slipping himself more under the covers, his blinks becoming longer.

“Get some sleep, Schtew-ball. You’ve had a long day.”

Steven makes a noise of agreement as he fully lays down and rolls onto his side, facing away from Greg, and it’s like they had just done this yesterday. He carefully reaches a hand out towards Steven’s curls, and rubs them as he begins to sing softly. Comforting nostalgia fills him as the time passes Steven’s breathing becomes more even, both slipping into a routine from way back when he was really little. Even if his son is older, and bigger, bringing peace to galaxies, the curly haired teen sound asleep in bed was still Greg’s little boy. He would always be there to support him, to love him.

Guilt pangs deep in Greg’s chest. He didn’t support him, not enough, not this time, not so many times before. Steven might be calm now, but there was tomorrow to face, and the days after it. There were so many unknowns and how to handle them seemed insurmountable if Greg thought about it too hard.

Who knows how challenging they must feel to Steven, who responded to stress as though he could die.

But those were all tomorrow things. So all he could do now was reflect on the awful father he had been.

Years, years, of unending trauma had been inflicted on his kid and he hadn’t noticed the effects, hadn’t even stopped to really ask if Steven was okay. He acted like he was doing fine, and Greg had believed him. And after everything he’d been through over the past six years, Greg had left his son alone so he could, what? Relive his glory days traveling the country? What kind of a father was he?

Greg groaned as he recalled his earlier phone call with Steven. He had probably called to reach out, to talk at least about his failed proposal to Connie, and what had Greg done? Ignored the strain in his voice and joyfully talked about the tour being extended. Made his son feel that pulling him away from the tour would be burdensome. Gave him another excuse to not talk about his feelings. Took away another social support, and left him to face this alone.

How was he going to make all of that up to Steven?

He couldn’t believe Steven wasn’t angry with him. He would be if the roles were reversed. But Steven had been so relieved the moment Greg walked into the hospital room. And he had given him some genuine smiles throughout the evening, and seemed to enjoy everything Greg had done. What Dr. Maheswaran had told him, speaking parent-to-parent, went through his mind again.

He looked back down at Steven, still soundly asleep. Greg knew his son well enough that he’d forgive his father’s mistakes, tell him it wasn’t a big deal, that he should forget about it.

But Greg wasn’t going to forget his failings, nor forgive them quite just yet. He hasn’t yet done enough for forgiveness. But he will. To be the father he promised Rose and himself he would be before Steven was born, he will be there for his son. He won’t let his son face this alone anymore.

“ How am I supposed to live my life when it always feels like I’m about to die? ”

Greg Universe was going to help his son live again.

[katehuntington]

Title: Changes - part nine Word count:  ±4350 words Summary “Changes”: Huntress Zoë Sullivan (OFC) crosses paths and swords with the Winchesters, when the brothers stumble on a case she’s already working. When complications arise, they are forced to work together. Summary part nine: Dean finds an unexpected guest in the bridal suite. Warnings: Smut, NSFW, 18+ only! To prevent spoilers, all spoilers for the entire story are listed in the masterlists. Music: One Of These Nights - The Eagles (opening scene), Skin On Skin - Queens Of The Stone Age. Author’s note: I couldn’t be more excited to share Supernatural: The Sullivan Series with you. There are quite a few people I want to thank: @coffee-obsessed-writer, @soupornatural & @mrswhozeewhatsis, who edited the early drafts, and my girls @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish, @winchest09​ & @kittenofdoomage​ who are deciphering the recent version. Everyone who encouraged me to go for it, you are awesome!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist 01x01 “Changes” Masterlist

     With a grunt muffled by his pillow, Dean wakes up. He keeps his eyes closed, enjoying the blissful slumber for a moment. A familiar song echoes through the room; he recognizes the peculiar intro after a few beats, identifying it as an Eagles song. He sighs and smiles, relieved. He’s relaxed, well rested and pain free; thank God for vicodin. Strangely, though, he didn’t remember the radio playing when he fell asleep. Then he notices the sound of the shower running. It’s only now, when Dean opens his eyes, rubs his face and looks over his shoulder. While licking his lips, he stares at the purple clock on the wall; it’s almost 7 PM.

     “Aren’t you a bit late for your play date?” he comments, loud enough for Sam to hear him, as he slides off the bed.      Still a bit sleepy he pads over to the bathroom entrance, barefoot. As he does, Dean glances at the table, where he remembers Sam dumped most of his stuff. His laptop is set up, buzzing like it’s sawing down an entire forest. Next to the table he notices a half emptied duffel bag. Only his own old leather jacket hangs from the coat hanger; Sam’s is missing. The alarm bells start ringing in his head by the time he notices that his car keys aren’t on the little cabinet next to the bed where he left them; his brother isn’t here. But if he isn’t, who is? 

     In three large strides he is next to the bed and grabs his gun from under the pillow, then sneaks up to the bathroom again as he flips the safety switch off. Although he was fast asleep a minute ago, he’s wide awake now. Adrenaline rushes through his veins when he enters the bathroom, his weapon ready to fire between both hands. Instead of some supernatural creature, which he was prepared for, he stumbles on Zoë, wearing nothing but a bathrobe.      “No, I’m right on time,” she answers, grinning.      “Zoë?! For fuck's sake!” Dean lowers his gun and breathes out. “What are you doing here?”      She turns to him and crosses her arms in front of her chest with the usual attitude.      “Let's start over: ‘Hi, Zo, nice to see you!’”      “Well, if I said that, I’d be lying,” Dean responds, not amused by her unexpected visit.      “Oh, come on. You’re not still cranky, are you?” she chuckles.      He walks out, pushing his gun under his pillow again. It’s just now that he notices the music is coming from Zoë’s Macbook, which she has installed near the window, the curtains hiding the device from plain sight.      “I am still mad, as a matter of fact. So for the second time; what are you doing here?” he asks again, grumpily.     ��“There was a fuss at the motel, I got into a fight with the shifter. Broke some stuff, police on their way. Yada yada. You know how it is,” she explains carelessly.      “The shifter?” Now she has Dean’s full attention. “You got into a fight with the shifter?”      “Yeah. The bastard followed me from the bar to the motel. Don’t ask, long story,” she says, apparently not finding it worth the elaboration.

     Dean follows her with his eyes. “So he was at Beetle's.”      “Yep, as Terry Cliffer. He almost had me fooled,” she admits with a chuckle.      “But you got him, right?”      Dean gets his confirmation, her raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head saying enough.       “Who do you think I am?” she scoffs, insulted.

     Dean takes a look at the huntress, eying her from top to bottom before a grin twitches at the corner of his mouth. He might still be cross with her, but having her standing in his hotel room in nothing more than a bathrobe, does raise a few dirty thoughts. Dean has to admit; she looks hot as hell. He wouldn’t mind having a peek at what’s under that robe, guessing that she’s not wearing anything else, since she just took a shower. Her hair is darkened by the water, droplets seeking a trail down her collarbone and into her cleavage. Although she washed off her makeup, she still has these warm, penetrating eyes, somewhere between hazel and chocolate. Her skin is smooth and a natural blush fires her cheeks. Zoë is one of those girls who doesn’t need to highlight her strong features with all that shit woman put on their faces to look pretty.      “Do you really want me to  answer that?” Dean counters sly.

     “Oh, never mind.” She rolls her eyes and strolls to the window, glancing outside into the night. “I got him, but no thanks to your brother.”      Dean's expression goes blank. Oops, Zoë might have a reason to be pissed off with them once again.      “He fucked up?” he assumes.      “Just a little,” she scoffs, raising her hand and putting her forefinger to her thumb, only leaving a small space between her fingertips. “He chased the shapeshifter and apparently had an encounter with him in his hideout. That didn’t go so well for your dear brother and he got locked up with the others. By the time I got there, the damn chameleon had already shed. So guess who I was facing?”          Dean raises his eyebrows; Sam of course. Worry washes over him.      “Is my brother okay?” he asks demanding.      “He’s fine,” Zoë snaps. “Thanks for asking how I am, by the way. I was the one who got attacked from behind by a shapeshifter slash Sasquatch.”       The huntress closes the curtains further, not wanting this to turn into a peepshow for people passing by.      “Where is Sam now?” Dean questions, his nerves calmed a little, but still not totally at ease.      “He volunteered to cover tracks. He mentioned something about you having a girl over for the night,” she recalls.

     Again Dean freezes. Shit! Vicodin girl. He almost forgot about her. She’ll probably show up in two and a half hours or so. His gaze shifts to the scarcely covered woman in the room again. It would be the night of the century, two hot chicks in one evening. In a fucking bridal suite. Maybe Sam didn’t pick such a bad place afterall. He looks over, capturing the huntress with his emerald greens. He can't help it, but he knows his eyes are sparkling.      “Looks like he was right.”       She grins at that remark, amused by his attempt to woo her. Going along with it, she walks towards him, slowly and elegantly.      “You would love to see that happen, wouldn’t you?” she teases.

     Dean takes a shuddering breath, stunned to witness this seductful side of Zoë he hasn’t quite seen before. The song in the background fades to Skin On Skin by Queens of the Stone Age as the gorgeous woman approaches. He has to admit that he fantasized about her once or twice today, because - come on - just look at her. But with their rivalry, he never thought it would happen. Fuck, please let me be wrong about that one, he thinks to himself.

     With lust in her eyes, she takes the collar of his flannel between her fingers and reels him in. When she moves closer, her mouth hovering over his, he reluctantly creates a distance. He expected a lot from Zoë, but this can’t really be happening, right? Was she playing hard to get all this time? He could've sworn Zoë wasn't into him at all; all they do is fight.      She pouts. “Oh, don’t get awkward with me. You want to.”       “Y’know, I normally don’t do this until the second date,” he says, referring to their talk this morning, when she patched him up.       “The second date? I don’t think you’ve ever known a girl this long before you headed for your home run,” she counters.

     Dean tilts his head slightly and nods, admittingly; she’s got a point there. Her arms cross behind his neck and she looks deep into his eyes when he returns her glance, challenging him. Her tongue peeks past her teeth, only just, but Dean notices, his focus flicking down to her lips.      “Well then,” she responds. “What are you waiting for? You like to have fun, don’t you?”      He stares back and can’t help his jaw from going slack. Automatically he reaches for her waist, fingertips softly pressing into her flesh. He seems to be looking in the eyes of Medusa, unable to move. She inches closer, pressing her hips into his, her pelvis rolling against the growing bulge in his jeans. Her grip around his neck tightens; he has nowhere to go if he wanted to. Their noses touch, he can feel her warm breath on his skin.      “Dean?”      “What?” he husks.      She tilts her head and moves her mouth close to his ear, ready to share a little secret.      “I am fun.” 

     Okay, that’s it. There’s no possible way that any straight guy in the universe could resist Zoë Sullivan, not to mention Dean Winchester. He gives in and meets her half way in a bruising kiss. Without any hesitation whatsoever, she opens her mouth to him immediately, swiping her tongue along his so unbelievably intense, that it catches him by surprise. His heart rate picks up as she grinds her body against his, her nails running through his hair, scratching his scalp to the point that it hurts, but in the best kind of way. He lets his hands explore her figure, feeling her shiver under his touch, even through the fleece fabric of her robe. 

     Leaving no time to waste, Zoë moves her hands down his toned chest, then lower, until she cups his erection through his jeans. The normally so fierce hunter, who always stands his ground no matter how challenging the fight or how crippling the pain, almost caves then and there. He breaks the kiss when oxygen becomes scarce, pressing her forehead against hers. Their noses touch, but she doesn’t kiss the hunter again. He can feel her grin against him, though, when she softly kneads his hardening dick through the fabric of his pants, breathing in his air when he groans. Dean sigh heavily; Jesus fucking Christ.

     Despite the undivided attention she offers, he manages to undo the knot in the sash, opens her bathrobe slightly and slips his left hand between the fleece material and her skin. She feels warm, still heated from the shower, or is it something else? He travels down her body further, tracing the lines of her silhouette, slowly descending towards her core. With his palm pressed against the softness of her abdomen, Dean allows his touch to travel lower. Zoë stiffens, pausing her actions when the hunter opposite of her ghosts over her inner thighs, riling her up. Hungrily she buries her face into the crook between his neck and his shoulder, muffling a moan when the hunter parts her folds with his thick fingers and press into her. Now it’s Dean who smirks, pleased with her reaction and the slick he feels between her legs; she’s so goddamn wet already. 

     He repeats the act, dipping into her soaked center, gathering her juices before rubbing a small circle over her clit, finding the sensitive nub with ease. Zoë jerks, her grip on him tightening, a sound between a whimper and cry escaping her mouth. Dean can’t possibly imagine it, but judging from her response it seems like she hasn’t had sex in a while. She’s so eager, so willingly allowing him to please her; quite the opposite to the attitude he got from her so far. 

     The hunter pulls in a sharp intake of air when, despite approaching her own high, Zoë unbuckles his belt, flicks open the button of his jeans and runs down the zipper enough to have some space to work. She slips into his boxers, wraps her fingers around his hardened shaft and slowly starts to jerk him off. Dean tilts his head back and closes his eyes, grunting, a fiery sensation spreading to his limbs and rolling back to gather in his coil. Pre cum drips into her hand, smoothening the friction of the pumping motion. He collects himself, his jaw setting when she takes advantage of his exposed throat, sucking on his skin that without doubt will leave a mark. Fuck, the things he would do to have that sinful mouth somewhere else right now.

     Trying to distract himself and prevent his climax from arriving embarrassingly fast, he pushes two fingers into her heat, the feel of the soft velvet of her walls delightful. His thumb flicks over her clit again while he curls his digits, letting them glide in and out in a steady rhythm. It’s obvious it has an effect on her, her sighs labored. The steady tempo in which she was pumping his erection until a moment ago, begins to falter. He feels her buckling forward and supports her, ignoring his injured shoulder, the dull pain suppressed by painkillers. The hunter pulls her closer to his chest and kisses her again, his arm snaking under the bathrobe she’s still wearing, his hand splayed between her shoulder blades. 

     Standing in the middle of the room while working each other over proves to be more difficult by the second, as he too feels his legs tingling and close to giving out, but it adds to the accelerating moment as well. For a second he considers taking her to that waterbed bed and fuck her into the waves until she comes, but he decides against it. He’s going to save it for later, because Zoë might think he’s a cocky bastard, he is determined to show her his arrogance when it comes to his skills in the bedroom are more than justified. 

     Her breathing picks up, the exhales more audible whenever her mouth leaves his, turning into sultry moans now that she’s nearing her peak. Unable to multitask at this point, her grip on his rock hard dick loosens further. Thankfully, because he was about to blow, and he’s nowhere near done with the voluptuous huntress.      She clenches around him, her nails digging into his back now. He watches her as her mouth hangs slack, her lips red and full with arousal. The sounds she makes will without doubt travel beyond the walls of the suite, but she doesn’t seem to care; Zoë is anything but a prude. 

     Dean continues to rub the pad of his thumb in ovals, while pushing his fingers as deep as he can, three of them at this point. She begins to tremble, her eyes shut tight, her brows pulled together.      “That’s it,” he husks. “Does that feel good?”      “G-god, yes,” she manages to utter. “Dean, please… m-make me come.”            He stares at the face, which is contorted with pleasure. Holy fucking shit, she just begged him. Zoë Sullivan just begged for an orgasm. Who would have thought he’d ever hear a plea like that fall from her lips. Dean doesn’t have to be told twice; he turns up both pressure and speed by a nodge. She stops breathing all together, her muscles so tight that they spasm. The build up is almost too much for her too handle, her painfully blissful grip and her quaking body telling him she’s almost there. 

     Right as Dean wonders how much longer she’s going to last without air, Zoë cries out, coming undone on his fingers. With a content smile on his lips he works her through it, her dripping walls pulsing as he slowly and gently moves out and back into her, while he supports her crumbling form. Watching a woman climax has always been one of his favorite aspects about sex, but witnessing the tough as nails huntress completely spent by his doing, has got to be the sexiest view he’s ever seen.      “You alright?” he chuckles, low and gruff.      She nods, regaining composure. Dean retrieves his digits from her and is stunned when she takes his hand and brings it up to suck his fingers into her mouth, her tongue collecting her own juices. He wets his lips, too, his dick responding to the sensual sight. Jesus, just when he thought she couldn’t get any hotter.      Zoë lets go of him then, pushing him off, teasingly. He looks up from her lips on which the slick shimmers, into her hypnotizing eyes. She grins devilish as she speaks the words he hoped to hear.      “Now it’s your turn.” 

     Without breaking the contact, she lets the bathrobe slide from her shoulders, watching confidently how Dean takes her in. It doesn’t happen often, but he’s lost for words. Before him stands a woman who could be on the cover of even the most exclusive skin mag. He felt her body under his touch and knew she was gorgeous, but to actually see her completely naked, shows that ‘gorgeous’ doesn’t quite cut it. Her beautiful hourglass-shaped waist, proportioned breasts, not too big for her frame, but small and perky. Slender yet muscular, clearly trained and prepared to take on evil. Shit, she’s the American wet dream.

     When he looks closer, he notices the stories her body has to tell. Tattoos decorate her rib cage, her groin and the inside of her biceps, but right now Dean is too distracted to philosophize about the meaning of the ink. Scars inflicted by the things that she hunts damaged her tanned skin, but don’t take away her beauty. In fact, it adds to it, because before him stands a kick ass woman, a powerhouse.

     Zoë grins when she witnesses the adoration in Dean's expression, walks up to him and kisses him eagerly. The fire in the pit of his stomach turns into a blaze again, his respiration soon quickening. Not having much clothing to pull off her body, he helps her unbutton his flannel without breaking their kiss. When she rips off the shirt, he can hear the stitching crack, but he doesn’t give a damn. His hands trace the lines of her figure, brushing past what seems to be a burn on her shoulder. When he touches it, she winces slightly.      “Where you get that?” he wonders, a hint of worry in his voice.      She shrugs. “Shifter tried to shoot me again. It’s fine, the bullet barely grazed me.”      Dean, not so careless, lets his eyes linger on the damaged skin, before he reaches for her face and caresses her jaw softly.      “I’m fine,” Zoë promises, smiling at the concern in his eyes.

     The huntress closes the gap between them and presses her lips on his again, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind. She folds her arms around his neck and he lifts her up, the strain of his shoulder reminding him of his own injury. She giggles lasciviously and hooks her long legs around his waist, as he walks over to the waterbed and drops her on it a moment later. He hovers over her and kisses her pulsepoint, the moan that escapes her total blasphemy.       “It’s your turn, remember,” she purrs.      Impatient, the huntress attempts to shove his jeans down, tracing the hem of his boxers, but he stops her.      “Who says I was done with you?” Dean teases, leaving a trail of kisses from her breasts to her stomach, before he retreats.      Zoë pouts. “Don’t pull back now.”      “I have a little something to make this even more interesting,” he says with that up-to-no-good smirk on his face, his eyebrow arched.

     He slides off the bed and walks to the table, where he unravels the gift basket he received downstairs. Smirking he turns around and shows off the handcuffs, twirling them around his finger.      “You have a dirty mind, boy,” she says pleased, liking where this is going.      He crawls back on the bed, which waves like a light swell at sea, and while he leans over her, he gently grabs her wrists and cuffs them behind the steel bars of the bed. Then he sits up and looks at her naked form.      “No, I just have a very bright mind,” he corrects.      “Whatever you want, Dean. I’m all yours tonight.” She pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth, spreading her legs and leaving nothing to the imagination.      “You sure are.”

     He leans in again, but instead of kissing her, he takes the gun from under his pillow. Startled Zoë tries to sit up in her restraints, unpleasantly surprised by the sudden change of character.      “What the fuck are you doing?” she asks, concerned.      Dean gets off the bed and casually leaves his gun on the table, buttoning his jeans again and fastening his belt. He then proceeds to walk to his duffel bag, from which he takes a silencer. Slowly, he strolls towards the bed again as he screws it on.      “I’m hunting,” he answers, as a matter of factly.      “What are you talking about? It’s me, God damn it!” She tries to convince him, a hint of panic in her voice.      “Yeah, about that. Zoë, right? I have to say, good impression.” He admits. “You almost had me. It wasn’t until you got out of that robe when I noticed you missed a tiny little detail.”      They stare each other in the eye, him confident, her nervous, waiting for the other to say something. When the silence remains, Dean takes the lead.      “You shot her, you son of a bitch,” he brings to mind, anger thick in his voice.

     It’s just now that the person - or rather, the creature - in bed realizes what is going on. Stammering, she looks at Dean. The injury Zoë was left with after last night’s events is nowhere to be seen. Yet a bullet, probably coming from either her or Sam’s gun, has grazed its shoulder.      “Ah, you forgot about that, didn’t you?” He chuckles triumphantly, aiming the gun.      “No! Wait, Dean! I can explain--”       “- I bet you can.”

     A dim shot followed by complete silence, ending the life of the shifter once and for all. Dean breathes out and stares at the entry wound in its chest, where he sent the bullet right through the heart. He swallows thickly, because the resemblance with Zoë is uncanny.       He twists the muffler from his gun and tugs the weapon behind his belt, quickly picking up his shirt from the floor. After pulling it over his head, he checks his phone. The list of calls shows none unanswered; Sam didn’t call. He grunts, realizing that his little brother is probably in trouble, and Zoë, too. He has to find them, for all he knows they could be dead. Fuck! This case wasn’t even supposed to be our case! 

    Pondering, he rubs his face, worried about his little brother. He has to keep it together; now is not the time to lose his cool. Think, Dean. He looks around, his gaze lingering once it captures Sam’s computer. The hunter stalks towards the laptop, moving his fingertip over the mousepad to activate the screen. 'Completed', it says.      “Completed what?” Dean wonders out loud, frustrated.      Goddamnit! Why did he get caught up in his anger? He should have tried to get that bastard to give up the location of his hideout. Now he has nothing! 

     Dean scans the screen, noticing a pop up asking if he wants to open the downloaded file. He double clicks ‘Yes’. A PDF file opens and a blueprint of the entire area fills the screen. He reads the title; it’s a map of the city’s sewer system. Sam apparently was trying to find out from which house or drainage the shapeshifter was working. He remembers his brother saying his hideout must be somewhere on 110th Ave NW, but that’s a damn long street. He sighs angrily; how the hell is he gonna find them?

     Then he spots something unusual. A red sewer line follows the street, running from the main sewer all the way up to a house, far from the main road. When he reads the marginal note, he learns that the particular sewer line was put in the ground this year. Suspicious? Could be, most houses so far off the main roads have their own tanks. And wait a minute, isn't this the same place they checked out last night? He was quite sure it was clean, apparently they missed something. It’s not much, but it is the only lead he has right now. He closes the laptop, grabs his leather coat and rushes to the cabinet to grab his keys...      “Fuck!” he roars.

     How could he forget? Sam has the keys. Sam has the fucking car! He runs his fingers through his hair and curses again. He has to steal another vehicle, he’s got no other option. Then his eyes capture the shifter, lying naked and dead on the bed, blood leaking from the chest wound. Let’s rephrase that question; how did that filthy lizard get here? In three strides Dean is at the window and shoves the curtains aside. Relieved, he breathes out. The hunter wouldn’t have thought so last night, but he’s damn glad to see that shiny black Harley Davidson, with the keys still in the ignition, waiting for him underneath the window. 

     Dean opens the lid and climbs out, not wanting to be seen by staff in the lobby. Skillfully the hunter descents down the old fire escape and lands on the ground with both feet, bending his knees to cushion the landing.       The Harley is a sight for sore eyes, especially now that it’s his only available form of transportation. He starts the engine, the headlight spreading a bright light ahead. The bike is heavy, it surprises him how Zoë is able to handle the cruiser so easily. One thing is certain, he realizes, as he gasses up and leaves the parking lot; he better not fuck up this bike. Because Zoë will either kill him or haunt him, depending if she’s still alive or not.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

Read part ten here

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