#high bar we’ve got here

[ostaramoon]

we’ve been loving in silence 𖤐 dean winchester 

【 pairing 】 dean x fem!reader 【 summary 】 you’re a bartender in sioux falls, dean tends to stop in whenever he’s in town. you’ve played this game of touch + go for going on a decade now. when he stops in tonight, looking particularly worn out and tired, it’s you he’s searching for a restitute in.  【 genre / warnings 】 smut, explicit language, unprotected piv, needy dean, teasing/begging, aftercare, some plot, mdni, 18+ 【 wordcount 】 2.9k inspired by this song ⤜ we’ve been loving in silence by MARO ⤛ 

you knew the moment those heavy boots waltzed into your bar that you’d be here, stumbling into your dark apartment tipsy and high on his charming energy. you cross the threshold with dean’s calloused palms stuck to your hips. he nips at the side of your neck, making you giggle as you lose your balance. 

“i don’t think you’ve stopped touching me since we got out of the car.” you quip, peaking over your shoulder at those brilliantly green eyes. 

“mhm,” he hums, gently peppering kisses on the soft skin behind your ear, “can you really blame me, sweet girl?” his voice is damn near smokey at this hour in the night. rolling into your body like electricity as you notice even the faintest grunts of impatient desire emanating from him. 

dean effortlessly kicks the door closed behind him, using it to lean on as he pulls you in closer. turning within his grasp, you snake your arms around his strong neck and look up into his hungry gaze. his eyes dance across your face, memorizing each feature with complete admiration. 

“i’ve missed you, sweetheart.” he breathes, barely audible even in your closeness. he always calls you pet names, but you’ve noticed they leave his lips more frequently after a night of honey whiskey. 

“me too,” you smile, unable to deny the relief that left your soul when he came in tonight, “i was worried something happened to you, something permanent this time.” you confess, biting your lips and feeling anxious to express your concerns to mr no strings attached. but you’ve known each other for so long, known what his life is outside of your nights of drink and pillowtalk. when you spend months in radio silence, the fears begin to scream from the corners of your mind. 

“i know, baby, it’s been too long.” he sighs, bringing his hand to your jaw and running one of those large thumbs across your lips. “but i’m here now.” there is a quiet pleading in his words, one that you take to mean leave it, leave those thoughts at the door. and as always, you do.

pushing onto your tip toes, your eyes flutter closed as you collide your lips with his. he groans at the sudden connection, taking no more than a few milliseconds to deepen the kiss. lips messily moving against each other in a needy want. he pulls off your jacket without breaking contact, quickly moving his hands down your body and swiftly lifting you up, your legs wrap around his waist instinctively. 

dean turns your bodies so that it’s your back against the door now. “i need you,” he whispers on your lips, “i need this.” 

his pleas send a heat straight to your core, ricocheting through your body and leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. a mindless whimper escapes you. god, you’ve been starving for the touch of this man. 

your small verbal cue was enough for dean to take exactly what he’s craving. he carries you from the door and into your small apartment. despite not having been here in months he navigates through the dark rooms with ease, distracting you with nips and kisses across your collarbones. you don’t even realize you’ve made it to the bedroom until he lowers you onto the end of the bed. 

you watch with a love drunk gaze as he towers over you, and you can’t help reaching out and tracing the muscular outlines of his lower abdomen while he busies himself with removing his shirts. “you’re a true marvel to see, dean.” you confess, peaking through your lashes to watch how quickly he tries to hide his embarrassment from such a compliment. though you only meet with him in moments, you learned fairly early on how deeply wrong this gorgeous man is about himself. since then you committed to a secret promise to yourself that you’d do your best to acknowledge his beauty whenever he’s near. 

his charming toothy smile is back, “there you go again, being too sweet to me.” he teased. he takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, lips puffy and red from grazing his stubble in the sloppy kisses. your shirt tousled from his constant pawing. he leans down to become eye level, those thick lashes framing such vibrant green irises. “lie back for me, baby.” he murmurs, watching carefully as you follow his gentle command.

it isn’t often you get such a soft side of dean, hell, for years it was highly erotic work the two of you did on these nights. but you can sense something has change in him. maybe it came with age, or the constant reconciliations with life and death he faces on the road. he never shares too much, so you’ve learned to notice the smallest expressions in him to decode what might be going on inside that caged mind of his. 

as of right now, all dean could think about was devouring the sweetness he’s missed over the past few months. 

he gets to work undoing your belt, next the buttons of your jeans until he’s tugging both your bottoms and panties from your body. a satisfied sigh leaves his mouth as he looks over your half naked body. his eyes flick up to your shirt, clearly needing that off, too. so he hooks his thumbs and pulls it over your head, discarding it with the rest of the clothes. hovering over your frame, he trails kisses from your jaw, down your neck and across the plump part of your breasts that stick out of your bra. 

“i need to see all of you.” he rasps against your skin, sliding his hands between your back and the bed to swiftly unlatch your last piece of clothing. 

his hands lead the way down your sides, straight to the sensitive skin between your thighs as he pushes them apart. kneeling at the foot of your bed as if to pray, he works his mouth teasing the areas around your arousal, making the budding heat morph into need. 

you arch your back as his rough hands slowly slide up and down the sides of your legs, sending shock waves into your core, “please, dean, touch me.” you quietly plead. 

“easy, sweetheart.” he responds and you can feel his grin against your thigh as his lips inch closer to where you really want them. he loves this game, warming you up and getting you to quite literally begin to melt before he lets himself devour. 

his uses one arm to anchor himself, large palms squeezing the thick of your thigh while his other hand travels down past your navel, pressing his thumb against your clit as he works gentle circles. too gentle, you think. you want more, need it. 

“dean,” you breathe out, impatiently wiggling under his touch, “please.” 

with a groan his mouth replaces his thumb. sucking and lapping at your sensitive skin as you feel a wave of relief and bliss wash over you. you lose all sense of humanity as you become a mess of whimpers and moans. your sounds fuel his hunger, working you more aggressively with his mouth as his middle and ring finger tease your entrance. lazily sliding in and out, barely pushing in. 

“more, now.” you breathlessly demand. dean lets out a short laugh, pulling away from your heat. the sudden cold making you damn near writh beneath him. 

“beg.” he teases, and you look down to see those green eyes glowing with amusement. 

“please.” you manage, his eyes don’t leave your gaze as he lets his fingers tantalizing massage your clit.

“hm?” he hums, raising an eyebrow, completely indulging in the way your hips buck for more fiction.

 “please, dean.” you groan, throwing your head back against the mattress in defeat. your mind is swirling with a deep need for more of him inside you, on you, touching you in the ways only he can do. 

with a satisfied growl his lips are back to working pure bliss against your clit as his thick middle and ring fingers curl into the warmth inside you. you’re not even sure how his fingers are capable of thrusting against that sweet, aching knot inside the way they do. 

all you can do is squirm and whimper as he loses himself in pleasing you.

“fuck, dean,” you gasp as everything inside tenses and tightens, his lips pull and suck while his fingers plunge deep quickly. like a skeleton key finding it’s lock, dean presses into your dam and the floods break with ease. 

the release rolls through your body, soaking his face and fingers in your climax. you’re left shivering as he pulls away to stand over you. sucking on the fingers he just worked inside you, his face glimmers with pride of just how good he is at undoing you. 

“god, i missed that.” you sigh, catching your breath as dean undoes his belt and kicks his jeans off. his eyes take in every inch of your body as he pulls out his thick cock, working it in his hands. just watching him makes your core begin to ache all over again. 

“on your stomach, princess.” he commands, and you eagerly oblige. sticking your ass up with your thighs pressed together, just the way he likes it, and he appreciates you remembering. 

you felt the mattress dip under his weight as he centers himself behind you, shoving his bulging tip between your skin until it reached your sore clit, the heightened sensitivity making you moan and pathetically hump his cock, desperate for another release. his hands squeezed each side of your ass, applying more pressure to where your bodies meet. 

you rock against him, circling and bucking, trying to reach that itch, but it wasn’t enough. he knew that, but watching you use him like a toy was mesmerizing. 

“mm, please, dean.” you found yourself begging again, “i need you inside me, i need you to fuck me.” 

“fuck.” he groans. pulling away just quick enough to plunge inside, sending his entire thick length in, triggering a gasp from your lips. 

the sudden stretch sent a chill throughout your body, making you melt further into the bed as he fell into a mind numbing rhythm. wet skin slapping against each other cut through your shared symphony of moans. 

“baby, you’re so god damn tight.” he professes, squeezing your hips as he bucks harder into your cunt. his sickeningly deep voice paying such vulgar compliments made you twitch and hum. 

dean’s hand slips it’s way past your navel and straight to your clit, working messily fast circles as he coaxes another release from you. your thighs squeeze together as another knot formed in the pit of your stomach. 

“don’t stop, dean, please.” you begged, grabbing his wrist as if it could keep you grounded while he fucks you into senseless oblivion. his other hand presses into the small of your back, deepening your arch and allowing his tip to reach your sweet spot. 

he thrusts against that spot again and again until you’re making a mess all over him, whimpering and chanting his name like it was an invocation of the divine. 

your shameless release under his doing and hearing his name leave your mouth made dean’s head spin, feeling your walls tense around him turns his rhythm into a sputtering mess.

“fuck, baby.” he groans, his mind falling into a euphoric emptiness as he came inside you, bucking with the aftershock into a seeping wet mess. 

completely fucked out and weak, you collapsed onto the bed. your eyes watery and heavy as you blink yourself back to earth. dean’s warm hands rub up and down your back as he trails kisses across your shoulder blades. 

he didn’t want to walk away from you, have to look away from the beautiful mess he made of you. but, he knew better than to flop over and fall asleep like he did the first time you two shared a night together. then again, he was much younger and more selfish, and he had yet to grow so attached to you. something he would never admit to your face. but a part of him, buried away with the rest of his hope, wondered if you could sense how much care he had built up in the years he’s spent getting to know you in these visits. 

as dean left the room, you used every ounce of strength left in you to crawl up to the pillows, relaxing as you wait, knowing exactly what he was getting up to in the bathroom attached to your room. 

after a few moments, dean returns to your side. “waters warm,” he cooed with a smile, “just the way you like it.” 

you giggle, sitting up “you sure do know how to treat a woman right, winchester.” 

“only the ones i really like.” he responds, that gloating grin making you roll your eyes as you follow him into the shower. 

 ⤜

 the warm water felt incredible on your skin, enveloping your tired body as dean stood over you, his fingers massaging your scalp as he works vanilla scented conditioner into your hair.

“is this shit why you always smell so good?” he wonders aloud, and you could just see his face in that cute puzzled expression of his, despite facing the opposite direction. 

“yes,” you laugh, “my body wash is cookie butter scented, too.” 

“ah,” he sighs, “makes sense. wait, is that on purpose?” 

“what do you mean?” you ask, turning to face him and let the water rinse the sweet soap from your locks. 

“well, i mean, i always wanna take a bite when i’m around you.” he grins.

“are you saying you want to eat me, dean?” you tease, collecting more conditioner from the bottle and reaching up to rake it through dean’s hair. 

“well,” he began, an eyebrow lifting as that familiar smug expression graces his features, “i already have.”

you pinch his arm in retaliation, shaking your head at his smart mouth. 

“ow,” he feigns, rubbing the spot your fingers were. “hey, can’t say you hated it, right?” 

“rinse your hair, asshat.” you chime, switching places. you take notice in the way his arms flex as he works the conditioner out of his hair. his muscles have certainly grown over the last few months, and you try not to wonder what kind of bad he’s fighting to make him get stronger. 

“oh, aren’t you shameless, sweetheart.” he chuckles, winking before he continues, “checking me out while i wash the girlpoo from my hair.” 

“the girlpoo?” you echo, brows knitting in amused confusion.

“yeah,” he states plainly, “girl-sham-poo.” he emphasizes each part of the words as if that makes any sense of what he’s said.

“dean, it's a conditioner. and,” you smile, “can’t say you hate it, right?” 

“shut up.” he retorts, sending a playful glare. you smile at his usual go-to when he can’t find a way to give slack back. he reaches over and turns off the shower, grabbing the two towels he prepared earlier and handing one over. you internally cringe at the way he barely wipes any water off of his body, stepping out into the bathroom and leaving puddles in his wake. some things never change.

entering your room, you ruffle through the dresser draw packed with sleep clothes until you find your favorite big shirt to slip on. turning, you find a naked dean already beneath the covers, watching you. seeing him in your bed again reminds you of a time before. 

“do you always sleep naked?” you ask, snuggled into the comforter, lying just inches from that gorgeously crafted face.

“no,” dean sighs, “i actually am usually dressed, or close to it when i sleep.”

“why?” you ask.

dean pauses for a moment, those sweet green eyes clouding under whatever memories tumble beneath the surface, “i guess i can’t sleep any other way, always have to be ready.”

you consider his words, you still don’t fully understand the world he lives in but you’ve been trying to, “but not here?”

this earns a smile from the tired man, “no, not here.”

“hey, is that my shirt?” dean’s question disrupts your thoughts, bringing you back into the quiet of your dark bedroom. you look down, scanning the worn out t-shirt you’ve been sleeping in for years now.

“i think so, actually,” you respond, “from… what, ‘08? that time you spent almost a whole week with me for a reason you still have yet to tell me.” 

dean pauses, knowing damn well why he didn’t tell you. and he wasn’t going to now, either, because the last time he told you about his dance with life and death you went on a rant about how even dean winchester himself isn’t invincible, be careful, stay alive, and whatever else you blubbered out like a scolding parent. he wasn’t in the mood for it tonight.

“yeah, don’t remember.” he grinned, lifting his arm to invite you in, “care to join me?” he asks. 

rolling your eyes at his avoidance, you slip into the blankets. his arm finds your waist, pulling you close to his body. 

he brings a hand to your face, stealing a soft kiss before wrapping his arm again, tucking you into his chest. you somehow did forget the way dean cuddles is awfully aggressive, clutching you like a toy. but, as all the times before, you don’t mind it. there's a security in his arms you have yet to find elsewhere. you can hear the morning birds beginning to sing outside your bedroom window. by past patterns you estimate about four hours of sweet comfort before you’re left alone in this bed again. the wondrous dean winchester has a life to get back to, and you do, too. but you can’t ignore the tugging in your chest each time he leaves without a goodbye. 

 ──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

ooof this one was fun to write !!! probably one of my fave things to daydream about is being the one dean returns to throughout the years for some solace in his life (luv being delulu, thinking i could heal this man) but maybe i'll do more oneshots with this scenario tho, hmmm much to think about

[mcrdvcks]

Shut Up

Summary: You and Logan are sent on a mission: go to the gala and find out information about a mutant trafficking ring.

Word Count: 3.7k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: the summary seems much darker than what the story actually is, promise!

reader's powers are psionics, but her specialty is feeling other people's emotions

also, check out the part 2 if you so please! it's pretty much only smut (i think it's more words than this too, oops)

picture of reader's dress

warnings/tags: some uses of y/n, pet name (doll), rich people

Part 2

You and Logan stood in the large entrance way of the gala, the worker taking your feathery coat from your hands, leaving you in your black figure-hugging gown, with detachable arm sleeves and a high slit on one side.

This certainly wasn’t your ideal mission, you hated dressing up.

You fidgeted with the detachable arm sleeves of your gown, glancing over at Logan, who stood beside you in the grand entranceway. His usual rough exterior was toned down by the crisp black suit he was wearing, though he still had that rugged edge about him that no fancy attire could hide. He caught your fidgeting and smirked, leaning in slightly.

"You look uncomfortable, doll," he said in that deep, gravelly voice of his, his eyes scanning your figure from top to bottom. "Fancy parties not your thing?"

You shot him a quick look, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. He had a way of making you feel both self-conscious and... something else. Something you didn’t want to think about too much.

"You know I hate dressing up for this shit, Logan," you muttered, tugging slightly at the fabric near your waist. "I feel like I’m suffocating in this thing. And these people…" You gestured toward the well-dressed crowd mingling in the ballroom ahead, laughing and sipping on champagne. "Ugh."

Logan chuckled lowly, his gaze never leaving you. "Coulda fooled me. You look damn good." The compliment was casual, but the way he said it, the way his eyes lingered a bit too long on your slit, sent a small shiver down your spine.

You rolled your eyes, trying to act unaffected. "Focus, Logan. We’ve got a job to do, remember?"

"Trust me, doll," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets, his smirk still in place. "I'm plenty focused."

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Logan had always been like this with you—flirty, teasing, but never crossing the line. It was this unspoken thing between you two, a game that neither of you had acknowledged but both played. Sometimes you wondered if he was just messing with you, or if there was something more underneath all the teasing.

Either way, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about it.

As you both stepped further into the ballroom, the sound of soft classical music filled the air. Logan’s hand brushed against the small of your back, guiding you toward the bar, where you could at least look like you were blending in while you scoped out the place.

Charles had said there were going to be a group of people here tonight talking about a mutant trafficking ring. All you had to do was find them and listen in.

And just maybe kick some ass, even if Charles told you not to. You and Logan weren’t exactly the type to follow orders.

Logan leaned close to your ear as you both approached the bar. "Just remember, doll, no ass-kicking unless absolutely necessary," he said with a smirk, his voice teasing but with a hint of seriousness underneath.

You glanced up at him, trying to suppress a smile. "I know, I know. We’re supposed to play nice and just listen," you said, rolling your eyes. But let’s be honest, 'just listening' wasn’t your strong suit either. You were here to get information, but the thought of standing around, making small talk with these people, made your skin crawl. You’d much rather get straight to the point. Maybe that’s why Logan had been assigned to partner with you on this mission—he was just as bad at following orders as you were.

"Good. 'Cause the last thing I need is you turning this into a scene," Logan replied, his grin widening as he leaned against the bar.

"Oh, come on, Logan," you shot back, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "When have I ever been known to cause a scene?" You batted your eyelashes dramatically, playing innocent.

Logan snorted. "Yeah, sure. You, not causing a scene? That's cute, sweetheart." He signaled to the bartender. "Whiskey. Neat."

You glanced around the room, using your psionic abilities to subtly sense the emotional energy of the people around you. The room was a mess of conflicting emotions—excitement, greed, lust, and arrogance filled the space, but nothing out of the ordinary for a gathering like this. Still, you could sense something darker underneath the surface, a faint thread of fear and unease woven into the fabric of the crowd. It was faint, but it was there.

Logan nudged you with his elbow, drawing your attention back to him. "You picking up anything?"

"Just the usual cocktail of emotions," you said, lowering your voice as the bartender handed Logan his drink. "But there’s something… off. I can’t quite put my finger on it yet."

Logan took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes scanning the room. "We’ll find 'em. Just gotta stay patient." He gave you a sideways glance. "Think you can manage that, doll?"

"Patience is my middle name," you deadpanned, though both of you knew that wasn’t true. You weren’t known for your patience. But for now, you’d play along. This mission was important, and you weren’t about to screw it up. Not with Charles counting on you.

Logan chuckled again and leaned back against the bar, his eyes briefly flicking down to your gown before meeting your gaze again. "Still can’t believe you got all dressed up for this. Coulda fooled me that you hate it. You’re turning a few heads."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that your way of telling me I look nice, Logan? Because that almost sounded like a compliment."

His lips curled into a slow, lazy grin. "What can I say? You clean up nice, Psionix." He downed the rest of his whiskey, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You felt a slight blush creeping up your neck but quickly masked it with a smirk. "And here I thought you liked me better in tactical gear."

"Don’t get me wrong, doll," Logan said, his voice lowering as he stepped just a little closer, his presence filling the space between you. "You look good in anything. But this… this is something else."

Your breath caught for a split second, the heat between you rising as his gaze lingered on your face, your lips, and then back to your eyes. “Well, if I’m being honest, I prefer you shirtless,” you teased, your voice low but dripping with playful intent. You didn’t break eye contact, letting the words hang in the air between you both.

Logan raised an eyebrow, that cocky smirk of his creeping back onto his face. “Is that so?” he murmured, leaning in slightly, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "Can't say I'm surprised. Most people do, sweetheart."

You snorted softly, rolling your eyes as you turned away from him to glance around the room, trying to refocus on the mission. But you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. This was just Logan. Always pushing boundaries, always teasing. And you weren’t exactly innocent in it either.

But still, there was something… different about tonight. The way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice dropped a little lower than usual, the way your heart raced just a little faster. You wondered if he could sense it too—the tension between you both that had always been there but never quite acknowledged.

Logan’s hand found its way to the small of your back again, his touch light but steady as he subtly guided you toward a quieter corner of the ballroom. The warmth of his hand sent a jolt through you, but you tried to ignore it, focusing instead on scanning the crowd for your targets.

“You see anything?” he murmured, leaning close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your ear.

“Not yet,” you replied, eyes darting from face to face. “But that uneasy feeling is still there. Just need to figure out where it’s coming from.”

“Hmm,” Logan hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze still roaming over the room. “Stay sharp, doll.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Like I need you to tell me that.”

He smirked, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. “Just making sure you remember the plan.”

“Oh, I remember,” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Play nice, look pretty, and no ass-kicking unless absolutely necessary.”

Logan chuckled, his eyes flicking over your form again. “Well, you’ve got two out of three down pat.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Which two?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Looking pretty and causing trouble.”

Your breath hitched slightly, the intensity in his gaze sending a ripple of heat through you. “Pretty sure ‘trouble’ is your middle name, not mine,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Logan’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Guess that makes us a good team, then.”

You wanted to scoff, to brush off the implication, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to think straight. For a second, you almost forgot why you were there, the mission blurring at the edges as you got lost in those damn eyes of his.

“Psionix,” he said, bringing you back to reality with just your code name. His tone was more serious now, a subtle reminder of where you were and what you were supposed to be doing.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, tearing your gaze away from him and focusing on the task at hand. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. But as you turned to face the room again, you couldn’t help but feel his eyes on you, a weighty gaze that made your skin tingle.

You refocused, honing in on the emotions swirling in the crowd. There was excitement, greed—nothing unexpected for a gala full of rich people. But that dark thread of unease lingered, slipping just beneath the surface. It was faint, but unmistakable. Whoever it was, they were here.

You closed your eyes for just a second, concentrating. Your power flared slightly as you extended your senses further into the crowd, gently weaving through the emotions until you found it—a cluster of fear and malice. Bingo.

"There," you whispered, nudging Logan subtly. "Near the back, close to the big windows. Two men, maybe three. They’re nervous, hiding something."

Logan gave a small nod, his gaze shifting casually toward the area you’d mentioned. "I see 'em," he murmured. "Can’t hear much from here, though. We’re gonna have to get closer."

You both started moving, weaving through the crowd, trying to appear casual. You made your way to the bar again, standing just a few feet away from the group of men. Logan's superhuman hearing kicked in as he subtly leaned in, pretending to survey the liquor bottles behind the bar.

"They’re talkin’ about somethin’ shady, but it’s quiet," Logan muttered, low enough for only you to hear. "Mutants, shipments, some kinda deal goin’ down soon."

You kept your eyes forward, but your heart quickened. "Trafficking?"

"Sounds like it," Logan replied, his jaw tightening. "We need more details. But if we hang around here too long, they’re gonna get suspicious."

"Maybe we should split up. We’d blend in easier with the crowd," you suggested, trying to stay casual as you glanced around the room.

Logan tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling back on you. "Not a bad idea, doll. But if things go sideways, you better stay close. Don’t need you gettin' yourself into trouble without me."

You rolled your eyes. "I think I can handle myself, Logan."

He smirked. "Oh, I know you can. Just sayin', I like bein' there to watch."

You ignored the way his words made your pulse quicken and nodded. "We’ll stay in each other’s sight. I’ll keep an eye on the emotions from this side. You listen in, and if anything happens, we meet at the far end of the bar."

"Got it." Logan took another sip of his whiskey before turning to saunter off toward the side of the room where the group of men stood. You watched as he moved, trying to blend in with the crowd as you stayed where you were, your senses focused on tracking the emotions of your targets.

The nervous energy around the men was still there, tense and uneasy. It was like they were waiting for something—or someone. You shifted your stance, leaning casually against the bar as you closed your eyes briefly, letting your psionics stretch out just a bit more, trying to pull at the threads of fear in the room.

Logan, now closer to the group, kept his back to them but you could tell from his posture that he was listening in. His superhuman hearing had always been a huge advantage in these situations, and with your psionics guiding him, you made a pretty solid team—when you weren’t teasing each other, that is.

Just as you started to focus, one of the men in the group glanced over, his gaze lingering a little too long on Logan. Shit. He must've noticed something.

You felt the wave of suspicion hit you before Logan even turned slightly to meet your eyes across the room. You knew you had to do something before the men caught on to what you were both up to.

Without thinking, you pushed yourself off the bar and sauntered over to Logan, pretending like you’d been on your way to him the whole time. When you reached him, you leaned in close, brushing your fingers against his arm as if you were just here to flirt.

"Play along," you whispered into his ear.

Logan, ever the pro, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he turned his head slightly toward you, a smirk playing on his lips. "Thought you couldn’t stay away from me, doll."

You narrowed your eyes at him but kept the playful banter going. "Yeah, well, someone has to keep an eye on you. Besides, you’re the one who told me to stay close."

His smirk widened as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in closer so you were pressed up against him. It was all for show, of course, but the feel of his hand on your hip sent a jolt through you that had nothing to do with the mission. "That’s right. Guess I did."

You could feel the eyes of the men across the room on you both, their suspicion easing slightly as they bought into the act. You had to keep them distracted, keep their attention off what you and Logan were really doing.

"Don’t get too comfortable," you muttered, trying to stay focused. "They’re still watching."

Logan’s grip tightened on your waist for just a second, his eyes flicking toward the group before settling back on you. "Don’t worry, doll. I got this." Before you could respond, Logan leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "You’re really sellin’ it, Y/N. Almost too well."

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way his breath on your skin made you feel. "Just doin’ my part."

His hand on your waist slid a little lower, dangerously close to your hip bone. "Sure you are. You’re enjoyin' this a little too much."

You shot him a glare, but before you could retort, one of the men from the group stepped forward, moving toward the bar. He was heading in your direction.

"Incoming," you muttered to Logan, your voice barely audible. “He’s confident. Think he knows who we are?”

Logan didn’t look phased, but you saw the subtle shift in his posture—his muscles tensing under the fabric of his suit. He kept his gaze focused ahead, though you knew his senses were already tracking the man moving toward you.

“Don’t think so,” Logan murmured, his lips barely moving.

The closer the man got to you, the more arrogance you felt. Whoever this guy was clearly thought he had you both right where he wanted you.

You turned slightly in Logan’s hold, his hand moving with your body to finally rest on your hip. “Quick, pretend like you're about to kiss me.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Pretend, huh? Doll, you should know I go all in or nothin’- ”

You cut Logan off by putting your hands on his jaw and pulling him down, pressing your lips against his. It was supposed to be just for show, just a distraction to keep the guy from getting suspicious. But the second your lips met his, the whole plan went out the window.

Logan didn’t hesitate. He kissed you back, hard and fast, his hand tightening around your waist as he pulled you even closer. The heat between you two had been simmering for a while now, and suddenly it felt like a dam had broken. You felt the tension that had been building for so long snap into something real, something you couldn’t ignore.

Your heart was racing, and you knew you should stop—this wasn’t the time or place, and you had a job to do—but his lips were on yours, and it felt way too good to stop. You could feel his rough beard brush against your skin as he deepened the kiss, his other hand sliding up to the back of your neck, holding you close like he didn’t want to let go.

For a brief moment, the mission faded into the background. The gala, the crowd, even the man approaching—all of it disappeared as you lost yourself in Logan. The heat between you two was undeniable, every teasing remark, every playful touch over the years suddenly making sense. It had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface.

But then reality crashed back down, hard.

You heard the footsteps stop a few feet away, the arrogant man watching you both with thinly veiled disgust. He cleared his throat, his presence a stark reminder of where you were and what you were supposed to be doing.

You pulled back from the kiss, breathless, eyes wide as you met Logan’s gaze. For a second, neither of you moved, the intensity of the moment hanging thick in the air. His hand was still on your waist, the other resting gently at the nape of your neck, fingers brushing your skin. You could see it in his eyes—he didn’t want to let go, and truth be told, neither did you.

But the mission.

Clearing your throat, you took a step back, putting some distance between you and Logan while keeping your posture relaxed, like you hadn’t just been completely swept away. You smoothed your gown, trying to regain some composure.

The man standing before you smirked, his eyes flicking between you and Logan with an air of superiority. “Enjoying yourselves?” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Logan was the first to recover, his rough exterior snapping back into place like a shield. He gave the man a once-over, his gaze hard and unyielding. “What’s it to you?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, as if daring the guy to say something more.

The man’s smirk widened, clearly not intimidated. He tilted his head, studying you both for a moment before speaking again. “You two don’t look like the usual gala attendees.” He raised an eyebrow, his suspicion obvious now. “Mind telling me what brings you here?”

You could feel the tension crackling between Logan and the man, both of them sizing each other up. Logan’s body was coiled, ready to strike if needed, and you knew he was already itching to shut this guy up the old-fashioned way. But you couldn’t let this turn into a fight. Not yet.

You forced a smile, stepping slightly in front of Logan to diffuse the situation. “It’s a gala,” you said, keeping your tone light and playful. “We’re here for the same reason everyone else is—to enjoy ourselves.” You ran your hand down Logan’s chest as if to sell the act, even though your heart was still pounding from the kiss.

The man’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t push the issue further. Instead, he gave a condescending shrug. “Well, enjoy the party,” he said, his voice laced with disdain before he turned and sauntered off toward the bar.

The second he was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, glancing up at Logan. “That was close.”

Logan’s eyes were still on the man, watching him like a predator watches prey. “Too close,” he muttered, his voice gruff. Then his gaze shifted to you, softer now, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your mind was still spinning from the kiss, from the intensity of it, from what it might mean. “Yeah, I’m fine. You?”

Logan didn’t answer right away, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before he finally tore his gaze away. “We need to figure out what those guys are up to. You still got a read on them?”

You blinked, shaking off the lingering effects of the kiss as you focused on the mission again. Closing your eyes briefly, you stretched out your psionic senses, feeling for that dark thread of unease that had been following the group. It was still there, pulsing just beneath the surface of the room’s general excitement. “Yeah,” you said, opening your eyes. “They’re tense. Something’s about to happen.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “Then we better be ready for it.” He gave you a long look, as if trying to figure something out, but then his expression hardened into his usual no-nonsense demeanor. “Stay close, doll.”

You nodded, pushing aside the butterflies still fluttering in your chest as you focused on the task ahead. There’d be time to unpack what just happened between you and Logan later—right now, you had a mission to complete.

But as you and Logan moved back into position, ready for whatever came next, you couldn’t help but steal one more glance at him. The tension between you wasn’t going anywhere. And something told you that after tonight, it was going to be a lot harder to keep ignoring it.

tags: @freythecrazyfae, @its-in-the-woods

[torpublishinggroup]

This advertisement is for Swordcrossed by Freya Marske.

WHAT’S IT ABOUT

Mattinesh Jay is the chronically responsible eldest son and dutiful heir striving to keep his family’s business running. Luca Piere is a menace of a con artist desperately trying to escape his past by taking up the blade. When the pair meet, swords clash, and sparks fly. Soon, they’re entangled in a conspiracy that may bring Matti’s house to ruin if they don’t work together.

Want to see if it’s to your liking? We’ve included an excerpt from chapter one below.

Chapter 1 Matti laid his fingers on the polished edge of the bar’s wooden surface and forced himself to stop counting sheep. And yards of twill. And looms in need of repair, and outstanding debts.

Instead, he counted today’s collection of ink smudges, bruise-black on the brown skin of his hands: six. He counted the number of blue dyes that would have been used in the fabric of the bartender’s layered skirt: four, possibly five if the palest shade was true dimflower and not just the result of fading.

The tense throb of pain like a fist clenched in his hair eased, grudgingly, to a quiet ache. Bearable. Normal.

It was busy in the drinking house, the post-dinner hour that usually found Matti heading back to his study to finish the paperwork that a member of his family had tugged him away from in order to eat. Matti counted the number of flavoured jenever bottles on the shelf behind the bar—fifteen—in the time it took Audry to finish serving her current customer and sweep her sky-coloured skirts to stand in front of Matti. “And here’s a face we haven’t seen in a while! Something tells me you’re here for a celebration, Mr. Jay.”

Matti hoped the smile he’d pulled onto his face wasn’t the wrong size, or the wrong shade of abashed. “News travels fast.”

“Mattinesh Jay and Sofia Cooper. A match surprising exactly no one.”

Matti kept the smile going. There was a silence in which Audry politely didn’t say, Pity she’s in love with someone else, and so Matti didn’t have to say, Yes, isn’t it?Audry said, “Wait here a moment. I’ve got something in the back that I think will do nicely.”

Matti cast a glance over the room as Audry disappeared. His cousin Roland made an extravagant sighing motion and pretended to check his watch when Matti’s eyes landed on their table. A burst of laughter came from a dark-skinned woman nearby; she was wearing a dress that rode high at the knee to reveal a fall of lace like frothing water, a northern style of garment that Matti’s own northerner mother seldom wore these days.

At the closest table the Mason Guildmaster, Lysbette Martens, was deep in conversation with a senior member of the Guild of Engineers. Martens met Matti’s gaze with her own and nodded brief acknowledgement. He was sure she was weighing his presence as consciously as he was weighing hers. This was a place to be seen, after all.

“Here you are. Red wine for young lovers.”

Matti turned around again. Audry named the price for the bottle as she uncorked it and set it on the bar. Matti paid her, ignoring the lurch like a fishhook in his stomach at the amount on the credit notes he was so casually handing over. Mattinesh Jay, firstborn of his distinguished House, had no reason not to indulge in one of the finest bottles of wine that money could buy.

No reason that anyone here would know about, anyway.

Matti took the bottle in one hand and hooked three glasses with the other. Making his way over to the table, his mind circled back to dwell on the wrong sort of numbers. The money in Matti’s purse was painstakingly calculated: enough for the first round of engagement drinks, and enough for him to hire a top-of-the-range duellist who would step forward in the awkwardly likely event of someone challenging for Sofia’s hand at the wedding itself.

Matti’s skin prickled cold at the very thought of what might happen if Adrean Vane challenged against Matti’s marriage to Sofia and won. His family’s last hope would be gone. Matti would have failed them in this, the most useful thing he could do for them.

He was so caught up in this uneasy imagining as he wove through the room that he collided, hard, with another person’s shoulder. Matti was both tall and broad, not easily unbalanced; the unfortunate other member of the collision made a grab for Matti’s coat, couldn’t get a good grip, and tripped to the ground with a caught-back “Fu—”

Matti tried to step backwards. They were crammed into a small space between tables and there were people moving around them. His first panicked instinct had been to keep the wine bottle upright and the glasses safe, so he didn’t have a hand free to steady himself on a chair.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, except that he ended up wobbling and stepping forward instead, and he felt his boot come down on something that was not the floorboards. A small, pathetic, grinding mechanical sound crawled up Matti’s nerves, heel to head, and reached his ears even amidst the noise of the busy room.

“Sorry!” he said at once. “I’m sorry. Was that—Oh, Huna’s teeth.”

The man on the floor jerked his head up, staring at Matti, and Matti stared back.

For a moment all that Matti could see was the wide, straight line of the man’s mouth, set beneath an equally straight nose, and the frame that set off the whole: the dark, luminous copper-red hair that seemed to be trying to grow in about ten different directions.

The man’s tongue darted out in a nervous mannerism, wetting his lower lip. Something in Matti’s own mouth tried to happen in a yearning echo.

“Would you please lift,” the man said precisely, “your godsdamned foot?” Heat flooded Matti’s face. He snatched his foot backwards with enough force that his heel collided with a chair leg.

The redheaded man stood, his fingers closed convulsively tight around a small velvet bag. His brown coat was shabby and made of a coarsely woven fabric, though his shirt was good and his trousers had probably been equally so before they’d been overwashed into a patchy shine.

“Fuck fuck shitting—fuck,” the man said in tones of despair, with a lilt to his accent that placed him at least one city-state farther east: Cienne, or possibly Sanoy. He shook the contents of the bag into his palm and ventured into new realms of inappropriate language as he did so.

Enough people had witnessed their collision, or had their heads turned by the stream of expletives, that there were a fair few necks craning to see what was in the man’s hand. Matti, at whom the shaking fingers of this hand were pointed most directly, couldn’t help seeing for himself the ragged, glinting pile of cogs and jewels and glass. Only the intact cover—monogrammed in a swirling, engraved H—spoke of this pile’s previous existence as a pocket watch. A very expensive pocket watch, by the look of it.

The man’s breath hissed out through his teeth. “Guildmaster Havelot is going to use my arm bones as a fucking lathe. He only had it made to order, and he only trusted me to pick it up, didn’t he? Two hundred gold. Fucking fuck.”

“I’m so sorry,” Matti said again. He recognised the name: Havelot was the Woodworker Guildmaster in Cienne. “Truly. I can—” He stopped. The abrupt lack of his words created a silence that seemed to suck noise into itself, as conversations died to murmurs and the onlookers sensed something interesting.

The man looked straight at Matti with a stubborn lift of his chin. His brows, the same absurd colour as the rest of his hair, had sprung up into the beginnings of hope; as Matti’s silence grew longer, they lowered again. And then lowered farther. He swept a look down and then slowly up Matti’s own outfit, and now pride warred with scorn in the way those maddening lips pressed together.

Matti felt sick. His own coat was made of the finest wool, a midnight blue cut perfectly to his figure, and the rest of his clothes were of the same quality. He was holding a bottle of extremely good wine. Anybody looking at him would make immediate assumptions about the amount of ready money that Matti might have, and the ease with which he would be able to reimburse a poor clerk, if he’d just ruined a pricey piece of artificer’s skill that the man’s employer had trusted him to travel all the way to Glassport to collect.

Of course they would make these assumptions. That was the point.

Matti swallowed and felt the burning heaviness of his purse redouble. He’d be left with enough to a hire a duellist, yes, but not one of the highest skill. It wouldn’t buy himself and his family the absolute security they needed.

His friends were looking at him. It seemed like every pair of eyes in the drinking house was looking, and in another moment the murmurs of curiosity would turn to murmurs of disapprobation. I thought Matti Jay had more honour than that, they would say. What’s two hundred gold to someone like him?

Besides, the plain fact of the matter was that Matti had broken the watch. And he couldn’t pretend that he and this man with his proud mouth and poor coat, patched at one elbow, were on an equal footing. Even if he were left without a bronze, Matti would still have influence, connections, the weight of his family’s name. That was still worth something. For now.

So that was that.

“I—I really am sorry.” Matti set the wine and glasses down on the corner of the nearest table and pulled his purse from inside his coat. He kept his gaze on the man’s face, on a pair of eyes that were either grey or brown—impossible to tell from this angle—and urgently willed them not to look away. To a degree that seemed irrational, he wanted to banish the judgemental expression from the man’s face. “Of course I’ll cover the cost. Two hundred gold. Who did the work?”

The man glanced down at the metal scraps in his hand, as though the answer might be hidden in the pile. “Speck,” he said at last. “Frans Speck, in Amber Lane.”

“He’s a fair man. Tell him what happened and he’ll rush through the repair job,” Matti said. He held out the century notes.

The man tipped the wreckage of the watch back into the bag and closed his hand around the money, slow and wary. His fingertips had rough patches that scraped against Matti’s own, sending a tingle up Matti’s arm.

“I appreciate it,” the man said. He looked less cold now, though still nowhere near warm. “You’ve saved my life. Really.”

Matti forced himself to smile. Forced himself to say, “It’s nothing,” as though it really were nothing.

The man nodded awkwardly at Matti and tucked both money and bag into a pocket. Then he turned and was gone, headed for the door.

Matti somehow made his way to his table and sat down. His heart was pounding so loudly that he could barely hear anything else, and he wanted to shout at his own blood to be quiet and let him think. He needed to be alone in his study. He needed to contemplate his options, and make lists, and pore over the accounts for the thousandth time, in case they transmuted themselves into a picture of prosperity instead of the ugly, desperate reality that nobody outside of Matti’s immediate family knew about.

“Two hundred gold,” he said, before he could stop himself. “Two hundred.”

“We saw. Hard luck,” his cousin Roland said, making a face.

Perhaps it was stretching the term to call Roland and Wynn his friends, but they were the closest thing Matti had to members of that category, and the only people he’d been able to think of to form his wedding party. At least the three of them never found it too hard to pick up their acquaintanceship again, even if it had been months since their last conversation.

Wynn turned the bottle of wine to inspect the yellow butterfly on the label. “How appropriate that we’re drinking wine from your betrothed’s own winery.”

“Audry’s idea of a joke, I think,” Matti said. The word betrothed had landed in his ears like a piece of music played in an unfamiliar key; his mind was still turning it over, trying to decide how it felt about the melody. His hand was shaking as he poured the first glass, sending the stream of dark wine shivering and slipping. He’d steadied it by the time he poured the second.

“Huna smile,” he said, opening the toasts by lifting his own glass. “Thanks for agreeing to stand up with me, you two.”

“Drown your sorrows in this one, and by the time we hit the next bottle you’ll remember that you’re here to celebrate. And that once you’re married to Sofia Cooper,” Roland went on, lowering his voice sympathetically, “Jay House will be rolling in enough money to replace a hundred watches.”

Except that Matti had to get himself successfully married in the first place. And he’d just lost his best guarantee of doing so.

He let the old, gorgeous wine flood down his throat until a good third of his glass had vanished. He felt lightheaded; it had to be panic, because the wine couldn’t be working that fast. Panic and a sense of becoming unmoored. And the image of the man’s face, pale and sharply beautiful, gazing up from where he was kneeling at Matti’s feet.

“A fair effort,” Wynn said, when Matti put the glass down. “But I’ll show you children of Huna how it’s done.” He raised his own glass. “Agar fill your plates and cups.”

Matti smiled and drank again, accepting the toast. Maybe the wine was working after all. He could still feel his panic, the wound-up watch of his worry, but he shoved it away into a recess of his mind: its own small, dark velvet bag. It would be safe enough there. It would last until tomorrow. Matti’s ability to worry was shatterproof.

For now, he was going to drink.

[ineylesian]

— FELL ON BLACK DAYS

AVENTURINE X FEM! READER

AO3 | NAVIGATION

WORD COUNT — 9.5k

WARNINGS — spoilers for penacony’s storyline, enemies (??) to lovers, slowburn fr (it gets good i promise) mentions of genocide, mentions of child exploitation (not explicit), weapons & violence, smut, fem anatomy reader, sub!aventurine, mentions of traumatic events, one bed troupe

SUMMARY — Risk. It’s the word Aventurine lives by, a motto that claws at your heart when he’s gone. A reality that spills tears when he closes the door to your apartment, leaving only the ache of your heart in his absence. A danger that never guarantees the next time he chases his destiny will not be his last. 

You will never fight to change it, because that’s all it is. Destiny.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — AHHH i love aventurine so much he made me write again <333 i will defend this man to the end of the earth i swear. also holy word vomit, this is officially my longest piece!!

“BREAKING NEWS: Reports incoming that the International Peace Corporation has been seen with an employee suspected of Avgin origin from the planet Sigonia-IV. All habitants from this world were thought to have been wiped out or lost to the galaxy, so the appearance of this mysterious individual has grasped the attention of–”

The broadcast slowly fades into the background, overtaken by the synth and snare of a song that lightly shakes the ground at your feet. 

Sometimes you’re better of dead–

“Oh, you think you’ll be an asset? You’ll have to learn to make tough decisions on the go here if you want to succeed, so tell me…”

There’s a gun in your hand, it’s pointing at your head–

“You want to help this clan? Help claim this world and rid it from the remaining filth that roams?”

There’s a piercing screech amidst the bar, the high pitched wail of the speaker blasting the music fighting against the volume. A few seconds pass before the song picks back up again, a few lyrics skimmed through.

Which do you choose, a hard or soft option? (How much do you need?)

In a West End town, a dead end world, The East End boys and the West End girls–

“...”

“Before your initiation, you must make a prayer to the winds and mountains. Do you swear to devote your thoughts and beliefs to them, and reclaim the glory of Sigonia-IV?”

We’ve got no future, we’ve got no past

Here today, built to last–

“I swear.”

The bass fades and you’re left standing amidst a crowd of chatting people, some high on buzz, others passed out beside the restroom. Your eyes slowly fix forward, coming to a halt as the masses shift in formation, curving in a circle around the biggest table in the casino. Lined with forest green felt and red chips, hands bang against the surface joined in a cry of frustration. 

“God damn it. This is rigged!” A player screams, hot-faced and teeth grit. “YOU!”

He stomps his way around the table, stopping at the dealer’s chair, failing to gain any attention despite the magnitude of his boots on the floor. In retaliation, the man takes a fistfull of the dealer’s hair, spinning him violently around and grabbing the collar around his neck.

Seldom have there been times where you didn’t see him in this sort of setting, a man with glasses that carried the same orange tint as the drink in his hand, die mounted between his fingers as he speaks with a wealthy patron. His words weave like velvet on a fine tailored suit as he invites you to play a game of chance, and before the game has even begun, you’ve lost.

His name is Aventurine, and, just as his reputation precedes him, the corners of his lips turn upward as you enter his field of view. He is never one to be down on luck.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to exit the casino. The drinks have riled you up a bit too much, and I’m afraid you’re no longer sober enough to keep playing.”

The smell of outlandish alcohol hits your nose in a foul wave as he turns, rudely shrugging your hand off of his shoulder. 

“And who do you think you are? Protecting this weasel like that.” You take a step back as he advances, completely abandoning his grip on Aventurine as his gaze focuses on the emblem tailored to your shoulder. “You’re in on this scam too, aren’t you? Fuckin’ IPC, always looking to take money from people.” A sizable crowd has gathered at this point, and with that, guards are quick to stand at your side. You tilt your head to the side, extending a hand to gesture at the coat draped over his empty chair.

“You may gather your things and leave now, sir. Refusal to comply will result in you being forcibly removed.” 

A few more seconds of seething stares pass before he grumbles an insult toward you and rushes to gather his things, attempting to push the guards following him away. You sigh, turning to the dealer, who is now comfortable in his chair, feathered hat placed neatly on his lap as he shuffles the pool of cards pushed his way.

“Alright folks, now that’s over with, how about another–”

“Mr. Aventurine unfortunately won’t be able to join you all this round.” You quickly cut him off, laying the newly layered deck of cards onto the table. “May I have a word, please?”

The blonde takes a glance between you and the rest of the patrons at the table before nodding, allowing a charismatic smile to decorate his face as he slides the cards forward. 

“Of course. Miss Antonia, would you please find another dealer to step in for the remaining games?”

He gathers a kind nod from a nearby waitress, before turning to follow you outside of the casino. As the door opens, strong drafts of icy wind blow against your face, and you hear a shiver from behind.

“Sheesh, couldn’t we at least have talked inside? I didn’t come prepared to stand in the cold…”

You send a look his way, and Aventurine’s hands rise, lips pursed in faux apology. He pushes his glasses farther into his nose bridge as you lean against the casino’s exterior wall, shielding yourself from the chill. It’s clear he’s not taking you seriously, stifling out a yawn and rubbing his eyes before he even spares you a glance.

“Here to lecture me about the, wait…” His eyes suddenly narrow, honing in on your uniform. “Who are you?”

You remain silent, watching as he taps a few fingers against his forehead, thinking. The talisman of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department sits firmly laid into your uniform. A smoothly carved onyx, inferior to the cornerstone you know he possesses and certainly lacking in power. His eyes linger on the stone for a few moments, biting the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head back up.

“Never seen that stone before..” He says after a few seconds, voice substantially lower. “What rank are you?”

His gaze is opaque, on guard. You resist the urge to bite your lip, figuring lying in this kind of situation wouldn’t be the best decision. Subconsciously, you bring a hand up to your stone, adjusting your coat flap before bringing it back down. 

“P39.”

His eyebrows form a sharp line, but his lips remain flat. The lens behind thick shades linger on the stone, burning into the lights that reflect off of the darkness. He’s never seen someone who isn’t a part of the Ten Cornerstones wear something like this, so who are you?

“If you’re here to try and convince me to do something, I’m not interested. I’ve had enough orders drilled into my head since I came to Jarilo-VI.”

His forefront is confident, but you can see the hand that lingers at his side, struggling to stay put. It reeks of mild uncertainty, and a lack of security. He doesn’t feel safe when he’s not in control.

“I’m here to tell you that your assignment’s changed.” Your response is straight and to the point. There’s no room to betray any underlying feelings of guilt you may have from years passed. “You’ll be with me and my team, we’re going to the Loufu in three days to sort some business out. I suggest you finish your deals here before we go.”

“Well then.” Aventurine clicks his tongue, mild annoyance riding the smile that forms on his lips. “Let’s acquaint ourselves then, shall we? You must know who I am, so please allow me the pleasure of returning the favor.”

A small passage of frosty air rises into the atmosphere as he breathes, hand extending in formality. You take it, slowly shaking, taking in the defensive rise of his shoulders. It seems he has zero tolerance for strangers.

“Nice to meet you, Aventurine. They call this stone the onyx.”

–

The Interastral Peace Corporation only takes workers to be strong-minded and just as toughly willed. In the Strategic Investment Department, greed is a virtue, and wanting nothing but it all is a prayer. Those who earn their spot as a cornerstone will stop at no means to chase their desires. 

Aventurine values risk, but he always loves to have control in his corner. Without control, the chips in his hands are of no use, and his bargains crumble beneath him. 

A gambler's true nightmare, sitting right between his eyes.

Your relation to him is a true mystery, despite all of the digging he’s been doing after arriving at the Loufu. Despite the numerous deals you’ve closed together, he still fails to know anything about you, other than the fact that you have quick wit and fascinating knowledge of the universe. He won’t dare approach you directly, his inhibitions are too high and he knows too little.

However, there’s something off about you and that stone of yours. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before.

“Does the IPC really need that many funds to perform a vitality check on the Sky-Faring Commission? From what I remember, this is nearly triple the amount of last year’s fee.”

“Well, Helm Master, from what our reports say, you had agreed to the accumulation of interest based on reports of safety in the Loufu. Based on recent events, there has been a substantial raise in alarm concerning the safety of the citizens here. We hope you can understand.”

Aventurine unfolds his hands, sliding a glossy black dossier over to the woman known as Yukong. After skimming over the first page of analysis, she sighs, and places her hand over the cover.

“Is it possible that we could touch bases on this later this week? I need time to look over these documents and discuss them with my team before making any decisions.”

Biting back a groan of exasperation, you nod, politely shaking her hand and bowing your head when she stands. What you thought was going to be a quick excursion of debt collecting had turned into two long weeks of debate, and you’re starting to lose sleep. After Yukong exits, you run a hand through your hair, allowing the flow from the outside to flood your ears..

You can admit, the place they chose is certainly impressive in its theatrics, blooming with tall fountains of pristine water and a live band of foxians playing classical music on a mahogany stage. 

After a few minutes of jotting down notes you find yourself leaning against the bar’s edge, elbows cool against smooth wood. Your thoughts swirl like the vibrato of the woman singing a cover of a local song in a language unknown to you, but it’s calming, and you begin to itch with the desire to order a drink.

The waiter polishing glasses near you seems to pick up on your wants, quietly gesturing with her hand that she’ll take your order.

“A Rose in Rain, please.”

She makes your drink at an astonishing speed, sliding the glass next to your hands with a smile. You stare at the royal blue liquid sitting at the rim, contemplating if the hangover will be worth it.

Aventurine eyes the finger that rests along the base of the glass, humming quietly to himself. He figures there’s no better way to get to know someone than through a few drinks.

“You gonna drink that or keep staring at it?”

You turn your head, watching as he slides onto the barstool next to you. He raises his three outer fingers, ordering a small glass of Wintry Garden before turning to face you.

It’s been a long month with the Cornerstone. His approach remains restricted, evident in his snippets of sarcasm that he still doesn’t trust you. Your situation is… unusual, so you tolerate it. However, there still lies a fear within that he’ll go deeper than what’s for his own good.

“Do you usually drink? Or are you afraid to spill your guts?”

His words drip with conviction, blindly accusing you with the corners of his mouth tilted upward. It’s been too long, and he still doesn’t know a damn thing about you other than the stone you wear. He needs to flip this in his favor, fast.

Aventurine’s fingers drum against the bar’s edge as he picks up his drink, taking a small sip. The slight tilt of his head inclines you to start yours too, drinking half of the tall glass in one swig. His eyebrows raise in surprise when the drink hits the table, taking all but a few seconds to completely down the entirety of its contents, a resounding clink following.

When you don’t rush to finish your own drink, Aventurine chuckles, crossing his arms as he turns to face you fully. He’s eyeing you, daring smile plastered on his face.

“What, scared?”

He’s challenging you. And it works, since your drink is empty and you’re ordering a second round in a matter of seconds. Fizz sluggishly bubbles down your throat, followed by rich spots of thick, clear syrup.

A few drinks is all it takes for you to begin feeling lightheaded, pressing a palm into your eye to try and alleviate the nausea. Aventurine is at least 6 drinks in, setting down his next with an exaggerated sigh. Raising his hand for another, he lightly dings his glass against yours, the scent of redsunset sauce high on his breath.

“Let’s talk, Onyx.” He remarks, placing his hands on the table as the bartender comes over. “What’s the real deal with you? How come I haven’t seen you anywhere in the IPC and you show up in my faction one random day?”

You cough, attempting to clear your throat before you answer. It’s tough to keep your resolve with the amount of alcohol in your system.

“Maybe you’re just not perceptive enough, I’ve always been around.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like your answer. Another drink down.

“How many years have you worked for the IPC?”

“Almost 4 now.”

“What’s the entrance project that got you into the Strategy Department?”

You hesitate, and he grins, satisfied. This interrogation is going as planned.

“Well then? I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad, unless you’re more dangerous than you seem.”

It’s your turn to down a drink, wiping a small trace off of your chin as you think.

“Izumo.” You answer, short, watching as his fingers clasp tighter around the glass in his hand. Surprise.

“You really expect me to believe that?” He scoffs, a tinge of fire evident in his voice. “No one goes to Izumo any more, not after the slash.”

“You’d be surprised at the sheer amount of people that go to Magatsu no Morokami to uncover history. The IPC has their eyes set on valuable relics left behind from the war.”

He leans forward, dangerously close to your face. Past the thick orange lens of his aviators, you can see the irate spark in his eyes, alight with a plethora of shades you’ve never seen before.

“It’s not wise to lie to your superiors.”

You back away, sliding your card across the counter to the bartender. The moment Aventurine gets up to follow, you stop in your tracks, holding a small drive in his direction. You have some tricks up your sleeve, too.

“You’ll change your mind.”

He pauses, slightly bent over in a stupor of alcohol. 

“Best keep your cards close to your chest, Aventurine. Snooping in places you don’t belong bodes bad fortune.”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. Slowly, he takes the drive from your hand, leaning back onto the bar’s surface, eyebrows knit in thought. The world is suddenly too loud and amidst a flurry of harmonic bellows and blinding lights, you disappear. 

—

INTERASTRAL PEACE CORPORATION, STRATEGY INVESTMENT DEPARTMENT HQ | ONE MONTH LATER

“I guess I should apologize.”

Several weeks of absence. You look up from the papers on your desk, watching as Aventurine places your drive back on your desk. He straightens back up, waiting for you to respond.

“Understandable.” You answer, finalizing a document with a quick signature. “I would have had my apprehensions too.”

“Still do, but it’s better to work with someone you tolerate, right?”

You look up. He shrugs, eyeing the papers you have scattered around.

You had given him a flash drive with your report on Izumo, or, at least, a report on it. Sometimes things are left best buried. Still, Aventurine is certainly not stupid, and you know that. The final version of the report is vague and full of small incidents that contrast the planet’s true history There are inconsistencies, but he seems a little less hostile for the time being.

“Whatever you’re hiding from me, I intend to find out in due time. But I can’t do that if we’re at odds.” A hand is extended your way, held a little less straight and professional. “Let’s just try and hate each other a little less, huh?”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you take his hand and shake it for the second time. Aventurine smiles at you, a little less pointedly, but still on guard.

“Friends it is, then.”

His grip tightens slightly at the proclamation, leaving your veins seared and eyes wavering. As if you just made a deal with the devil. Your gaze drags along the fancies of his coat, figuring this is just another gamble he’s won. Something closer to certain death; the passion for it intrigues you.

Sooner or later you’ll suffer the consequences of a lie, you tell yourself. There’s no good outcome when striking up an agreement with a gambler, especially one like Aventurine.

Especially when the gambler is holding a knife to your throat.

The blade is cool, barely holding back from your trachea. Leather gloves hold a fistfull of your hair, shoving you down onto the filing cabinet you were sifting through moments before. Your eyes dart around, only able to see the edge of his shoe pressing against your ankle and the papers you dropped scattered across the floor.

“Just as I thought we were getting along.” His spits, words slithering around your chest and settling around your neck. “It was only a matter of time before you slipped up.”

Confusion spreads across your features, and Aventurine scoffs. His shoe digs deeper into your achilles, and you stagger against the metal. 

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Your words come out choked, gasping for air against Aventurine’s hold.

“That man, the one you had a long conversation with at the meeting tonight? You two seemed to get along.” Aventurine’s breath runs short out of anger, grip scalding against your skin. “You know him, don’t you?”

You close your eyes, tracing the night’s events back several hours. You only recall shaking two men’s hands, one being the esteemed Doctor Ratio’s, and the other the reason why you were down in the IPCs archives. He was dressed nothing short of what a gentleman would wear, offering you many commending words as he spoke of the recent inflation concerning the astral economy. However, you didn’t miss the brilliant stone embedded in the shell of his tie, reflecting vibrant colors you’ve only seen once in your lifetime. And neither did he.

“Pretty stone isn’t it?.” Aventurine continues, pressing your hands against the wall you’re shoved against. “I’ve seen it a lot throughout my lifetime, but I’m sure you know that already. Silly me, forgetting how easy it is to conceal them.”

He reaches for your shoulder, and you push back, using the slightly stagger of his feet to grab the blade’s edge, violently smashing your head into his and spinning him around. His blade traded for your stone. 

“I’d like to know…” His fingers flip the stone around, taking in the colorless mass, like a void amidst the stars. With a quick swipe of his hand, a lighter is held to it, engulfing the black in a dance of pale fire. Aventurine shakes the rising smoke off of him after a few moments, and your eyes narrow.

“...Why you have this?”

Turquoise meteorite, a brilliant blue stone infused with veins of a green just as bright. A kind of beauty that could only be found on Sigonia, tailored in a way only an Avgin could. The crafter spoke of a tactic that could hide the stone’s true color, while keeping its spirit alive with you still. 

Blood drips from your hand, staining your clothes a deep crimson. Gritting your teeth together, you slice a sleeve of your dress shirt off, slowly wrapping it around the wound. 

Aventurine stands, still, fury riding his waterline. His glasses sit beside his feet, hues of purple and blue wavering in the dim light. His hand slowly clenches, in and out, smoothing the cooled piece over his palm.

“What now, Katican?” His voice is quiet, gently ricocheting off of concrete walls. “Came to settle one last score, fulfilling your dream of tracking down the last Avgin? Oh, I bet you’re itching to use that knife right now.”

You step to the side, shaking bloodstained papers off of your feet. The knife drops to the ground, scraping cruelty against the ground as you kick it to a corner far out of your reach. A sharp intake of breath follows, and he steps back.

“I’m no Katican.” Your tone is low, locking eyes with Aventurine, his gaze darts from the knife to you. “The stone was a gift from an Avgin I saved during the second extinction.”

The air is stale, prickling with fear as you pass. Aventurine stands tall, but you know all too well that his greatest fear has come alight in this very room. The thought of coming face to face with a Katican chases him in his nightmares each dusk, a terror looming over his head akin to a raging storm. For once, he’s speechless, completely dumbstruck, mind racing to comprehend all that you’ve bestowed upon him. So little said, yet so great a burden unveiled. 

You would be right in telling him that such information is better left buried. Yet Aventurine knows only how to shatter the destiny that calls for him, and monumental change has left in its wake.

He opens his mouth to speak, yet words fail him. The hand holding the stone sits slotted behind his back, holding on to it as he would a birthright. A piece of his past that would never bless him again, sitting in the shade of Sigonia’s darkest nights, mimicking a color that does not belong to it. He wants to scream, take his knife and shove it so hard into your chest that it comes out on the other side. 

“I am on your side, Aventurine. I always have been.”

After forcing himself to swallow, he straightens up, but you’re already gone.

Distantly, a heavy thud hits the floor.

–

TUMBLEWEED, SALSOTTO.

“I’m Daisy, here this morning with Tumbleweed’s daily weather report. As usual, there’s sun about. However, a rude awakening is coming at around 6pm, as a pretty hefty thunderstorm is coming our way. Make sure you carry your umbrellas! And remember, as our beloved Fleetworld Marc says, thunder only happens when it’s destined.”

Destiny. The word lingers in your head as a pang of hunger hits your insides. Placing your last suitcase beside your bed, you set off for your hotel room’s kitchen. Reaching over and opening a cabinet, you groan when it reveals itself to be empty. 

Shrugging your coat over your shoulders, you pocket your room card. However, when you open your door, you’re quick to step back, feeling your heart rate spike instantly in shock. 

“Uh…” You take a few short breaths, regaining your composure. “Can I help you?”

The man standing before you is no other than Aventurine, chin receding as he looks at you with evident confusion.

“Can I help you?” He retorts, flipping his hotel card up to the light. “This is my room.”

You pull the exact same card out of your pocket, and the two of you share looks of bewilderment. After reading over the numbers on your card for what felt like the 50th time, Aventurine sighs, long and drawn out. 

“Well, this isn’t what I imagined when the front desk told me they could fit a room in for me.”

“I’ll go ask–”

You’re cut off with a swift wave of his hand.

“Don’t bother, I already did. They’re fully booked for the next week.”

Before you know it, both Aventurine and his bags are heading into your… your room. Exhaling, you mutter a quiet “okay..” and follow him inside. However, he’s quick to stop you once you make it past the bathroom, exaggeratedly pointing toward the wall to your right.

“This has to be some kind of joke, right?” Aventurine laughs, pulling his glasses off as if attempting to see better. 

His gaze is fixed on the bed sitting across from you. The single bed, accompanied with a single nightstand and a TV. In that moment, you both share a second groan, and Aventurine palms his face.

“I’ll figure this out.”

In a matter of moments, he’s gone, suitcases set haphazardly on the ground beside you. After a few minutes of thought, you head to the bathroom, soaking your hands in cold water. A brief inhale follows the icy chill that drags over your face, and you silently curse destiny. 

A few hours pass before Aventurine returns, shirt slightly ruffled, annoyance clearly displayed upon his features. The click of boots melds into the soft step of socks as he enters the kitchen, and you silently pass a bowl of fried rice you had been able to scavenge from a local grocery store over. Running a hand through his hair, he nods your way, sliding into the stool across from you and stopping the bowl with his fingers.

“As you could have guessed, there are zero people in this whole building willing to switch rooms with us.”

“Ah, yeah. Tourists are usually snobby.”

A hum signifies his response. Silence encompasses the room as a blanket would, save the soft clangs of silverware on bowls. You fix your gaze on the granite countertops, following intricately woven lines of mixed stone and drawing patterns in each section you come across. Becoming so immersed in the cracks, you don’t even notice when Aventurine passes you twice, once with his bowl, and once without. Seconds turn into minutes as you stare at the sheet of stone, only taken away from thought when he returns to the table, dressed in a black set of silk pyjamas. 

“What’s your story?”

Your eyelashes flutter, taken aback by the sudden inquiry. Raising your head, you push the now cold rice to the side and glance at the man across from you, fingers interlocked in wait. 

You’re shocked at the simplicity of it. The lack of accusations are a breath of fresh air when it comes to his words, typically cold fronted and dripping with malice. You would expect him to be angry still, perhaps even worse, giving that you lied, but you can feel the genuine curiosity lingering within. He seems to want to understand.

“I joined the IPC when I was young, almost ten years ago.” You start, fighting the urge to snap away from his gaze. “In my second year, word was out that there was trouble on Sigonia. It was thought that the IPC had it under control, but everyone knew there was something else coming.”

You pause. Aventurine remains quiet, attentive.

“I took it upon myself to convince my superiors to send me to Sigonia, despite their warnings. But… the work we did there, it wasn’t enough. I could help no one under the bounds of the IPC, so I sought out the Katicans. No more bounds. I was on the inside, where I could do things my own way.”

“Such lovely people, weren’t they?” He questions, apathy leaking from deep within. “Didn’t have a single care in the world other than themselves. They wanted to see everything burn, the women, children.”

“I have never seen a deeper hatred than what lies within them.”

You stop, again, toying with your fingers. Aventurine’s silence beckons you to proceed.

“I could only help so many, and they all ended up dying anyway. There was no escaping them, they were ruthless.” Your voice trails off, shaking your head slightly at the recollection of dark days in the wasteland they call Sigonia. No horrors match the ones that took place there. “I couldn’t imagine what you went through, any of you. And still, you’re alive.”

A word softly chants in your head. Destiny.

“Ever since I was born, I knew what was made out for me was never good.” Aventurine says, a hint of irony in his voice. “I fell on black days without knowing what it was like to live on the other side, and it’s been like that since.”

Flashes of your past mix in with current thought. You remember them, the Avign children, clinging to scraps of life even when it was evident their lives would soon end. Their eyes, just as brilliant as his, drowned by crashing waves, yet afloat on the prayer of hope. You imagine Aventurine was just like them, and you understand. Anger breeds and it seethes.

“How do you control it?” Such a simple question, yet so many answers. 

“I put it all into risk. Every single last bit of it. I gambled, and I won.” His pointer finger gently hits the table, and he raises his hand to wave it through the air. “I survive, and I bet again.”

“A bold motto, I must say.”

A small smile graces his features, shrugging lightheartedly.

“Luck seems to be on my side.”

You look to the side at the sound of a crack, noticing that rain has started to fall. The sky is obscured by deep grays, and the rumble beckons you to the sliding door separating you from the balcony. The crash of drops on concrete is soothing to your ears, bestowing a peace upon your heart you’ve failed to find for a while now. The serenity thickens as Aventurine steps to your side, the hues in a ring of his eyes reflecting the storm outside.

“I didn’t rain much back then.” He muses, gaze following the slow drizzle of fallen streaks on the balcony’s edge. “A privilege I can keep alive, now that I see it so often.”

You look to the side, meeting Aventurine’s eyes halfway. The corners of his lips turn up as he looks past you, covering his mouth as he stifles a yawn.

“Almost forgot about the bed.” He laughs, running a hand over his lower face. “You can have it, I’ll be okay on the floor.”

“Absolutely not!” You counter, head tilting in defiance. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

“That would be extremely impolite of me.”

“As it would be for me…”

“Will you please just sleep on the bed?”

“I brought extra pillows! I’ll be more comfortable than you on the floor.”

Aventurine stops, sending you a half lidded look. You walk over to your suitcase, swiftly pulling the two large pillows you packed out, holding them at your sides. He walks over to you, snatching a pillow out from one of your arms before walking toward the bed.

“Or, how about this?” He shoves your pillow on top of the hotel provided one. “We put the extra pillows on the bed, and we both take a half.”

You purse your lips, and shrug in reason. After patting your pillow into place, you climb onto the bed, turning on your side to ensure you’re only taking up half of the bed. 

As you land on your other shoulder, you nearly touch noses with Aventurine. He chuckles, eyebrows raising in a teasing manner.

“It’s not often someone gets the chance to be this close to me.”

You groan, tugging the coarse blanket to your chest as you flip to your front. Stifling a few chuckles, Aventurine turns so his back is facing you.

Within a few minutes, quiet snores begin to drift through your ears. You sigh, and roll your eyes. And yet, only peace visits you in your dreams.

–

There have been few nights of your stay in Salsotto without rain. You’ve grown accustomed to the melodic pad of morning to the erratic roar of the night. This night is different, however, as dew is high in the air but the clouds of the afternoon are white, tainted with swirls of pink that bode better weather. 

You fumble with the pearls on your neck, carefully positioning them so they rest on your collarbone. All IPC events require a clearance of wear that is above the standard grade of formal, nothing short of extravagant, explaining the fine tailored suit you wear over your dress. Ivory on cream, a palette that bodes well when making business deals. 

Heels click on pavement, Tumbleweed’s National Museum in sight. Golden lights cast the establishment in an elegant glow, and the stream of classical cello welcomes your ears as you approach. Welcoming smiles are given your way as you enter the building, and you start a long night of shaking hands and business chatter with the esteemed mechanical aristocrat Screwllum. 

Leisure chats of the Genius Society’s next project flow in and out of wine chutes, with gentle opera joining new deals of funding. Another hand shake bodes your farewell to a philanthropist from the Herta Space Station, and you take a seat at one of the tables nearby, attempting to gather your thoughts. Sipping on a glass of sparkling rose, you start jotting down tonight’s business proposals onto your phone.

“Having fun?”

You look up, offering a smile toward your temporary hotelmate as you pull the chair next to you back.

“Was wondering when I’d run into you, Aventurine.” You say, clinking glasses with the blonde. “How many deals have you clinched tonight?”

“More than you, I bet.” You scrunch your nose, folding your arms after sliding your phone his way. Aventurine takes a look through your notes, smile expanding on his face as he progresses.

“...And it seems I would be right.” He exclaims, holding up two full hands. “Don’t feel bad. It’s the natural charm.”

“Mhm. Super natural, and not annoying at all.” You quip, earning a light jab in the shoulder.

Your past two weeks with Aventurine had proved to be an easier feat than you had thought. Beside the snoring (that you had learned to tune out), he had served as a good source of company, squandering your worries of lingering grudges as you spent more time around one another. You were grateful he had the will in his heart to see the reason behind what you had done, although you were a little surprised to see that he had forgiven you with such ease. 

Now, to you, he seemed to be an easy soul forced to carry burdens that were undeserving of him. 

“Hey.”

You’re roused from your thoughts by the gentle tap of Aventurine’s foot against your heel. He cocks his head, and you’re suddenly aware of the soft serenade filling the room, sung by an artist famous for this piece.

“Let’s get our minds off of business for a while. Care to dance?”

He straightens his jacket before standing up, beckoning you to do the same. You accept the hand outstretched, threatening to roll your eyes as Aventurine lays his other on your back, guiding you to the floor.

“Trying to show off?” 

Aventurine slowly spins you into a shroud of spotlight, laughing when your eyes go wide from the precision of his arms slowing you back down. 

“Of course.”

A look is shared between the two of you, and the dance begins. You recognize the piece, Seid Umschlungen, Millionen! (Be Embraced, You Millions!), and fall into a sort of waltz, slow, quick, slow. Your feet move in a symphony of chirping violin and cello vibrato, swirling carefully around other dancers as you step from box to box. 

The music quiets in a moment of repose, and you slow, winding your hands around his neck as you sway, in wait. 

“What’s with the long face?”

The question catches you off guard, as you weren’t aware that your thoughts had reflected off of your face. Lips pursing, you wonder whether taking the chance and ruining the moment is worth it, but the question nags deep within, festering like a cancer that will not cease until it is freed. 

“Do you forgive me?”

Strings echo and rise; Aventurine fits a hand behind your back before spinning you into dance. His eyebrows are furrowed lightly, as if your question had caught him off guard in some sort of way, but you both knew it was coming. Trust is an uncertain entity, not easily won or wagered, never certain in whether it’s attained or lost. Forgiveness is a trial for trust, and within inquiry lie a question of deeper truth that never made it to the surface

Do you hate me, Aventurine?

There have been many times in the passing days where you’ve been questioned about your time in Sigonia-IV. A test to determine whether your actions deserved merit. Recounting stories of countless lives you worked tirelessly to save at the risk of your own. Gallons of blood stained on your hands from the guilty, those whose karma ran the empty river beds of the desert red. 

So much, and yet nothing at all. It’s as if life is out to play some game of twisted fate, as you see all of the lives you could not save in the man right before you. The brand slightly hidden by his collar and wispy blonde, jewelry glittering at his wrists, irises that shine in the darkest of nights. Bewitching, yet so alive. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” He says, after some time. “You did a brave thing, I would be a fool to condemn you for it.”

Elation. It’s the feather touch of his hands, graceful in the way they dip you, nearly stopping time as you lay suspended. Your eyes lock, and you nearly drown in the glow of lavender and maya that stare back. Slowly, you feel one of his hands leave your back, dipping in his suit pocket and coming to rest in your vision. 

“Their memory is always alive somewhere. It’s up to us to keep it.”

You’re lifted to stand, and, amidst a rather slow spin, Aventurine pins the turquoise meteorite you’d thought was long gone onto the span of dress fabric above your chest. The resounding smile shared is trust.

You twirl and sink until the song comes to an end, stopping in a hold of hands and interlocked legs as orchestra is overtaken by voice. In the midst of fading spotlight, your breath evens out, and you find yourself following the gambler’s hand to escape the noise, elbows brushing on a balcony railing as you stare out into the fading daylight.

The sky is tinged with the baby blue of afternoon, arising into a deep interweave of violet and blush. A small, red casino chip flips between Aventurine’s fingers, rolling to sit between his pointer and thumb in short pauses.

“Got any tricks up your sleeve, gambler?”

Aventurine tilts his head to the side, invigorated by the rise of your lips, challenging, daring. The game you propose has risk, but what is life without taking leaps blind? Aventurine is sure he can see you now, after all.

With a flip of the chip and a wave of his hand, the red disappears, and a cool sensation lands firmly on your lips. His face is inches away from yours, fingers gently pressing against the chip that severs the distance between you.

“There are tricks to any risk, as long as you know what you’re doing.”

You raise your hand, sliding the chip from your mouth and palming it. When he doesn’t move, you tug on his collar, chin tilting upward to press your lips to his. The sensation is warm, gentle, as if you tread on ice that threatens to shatter. Honey sears your tongue, and you revel in the touch of his lips, soft as the velvet of his tie.

The moment is all too short, yet your mouth feels numb as you break away. In a moment of silence, you take the hand that sits lightly clamped around your wrist, sliding the chip in his palm and closing his fingers.

“I think I’ll be gambling a lot with you, Aventurine.”

His face moves closer, and you look down for a moment, noticing the hand that sits behind his back.

“I look forward to it.”

–

INTERASTRAL PEACE CORPORATION, STRATEGIC INVESTMENT HQ | TWO MONTHS LATER

Knock, knock.

“Coming.”

The door opens in fluid motion, revealing a room cast in gloom, tan shade, blinds drawn. 

“Hey, Aven.” You sigh, placing a chaste kiss on the blonde’s cheek. “Long day?”

“Long day.” He mirrors, offering to take the stack of papers off of your hands. You accept, slipping into the chair across from his desk. “Are you done for today?”

“Mhm.” 

Aventurine sits in his desk chair, shrugging the navy coat he sports onto the back. You stretch your arms behind your back, watching as deft hands undo the cross hatched tie representing the cornerstones from his collar. As he sets the piece down, his office phone starts to buzz, and he groans.

“Hello, this is Aventurine… Uh huh, what time?” He draws circles into ebony, holding the phone to his shoulder as he reaches for a notepad. However, as he clicks the pen in his hand, he nearly drops the phone, clearly startled. “Can you repeat that? Si- okay. I’m coming.”

In a flurry of movement, he stands, tie and coat snatched. 

“We have to go, right now.”

His tone is impatient, brimming with anxiety and unwilling to contest. You blink a few times before following him out of his office, grabbing his coat to hold onto as he fits his tie back to his shirt. The walk is silent, save a quiet “thank you” when you hand the coat over and the click of shoes on tile. Your nerves rise as you move, watching the way he frets with his gloves, tugging on the ends repeatedly. 

In a matter of minutes, you arrive at the boardroom of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department, stopping at the edge of the table as Jade turns around, followed by a concerned looking Topaz.

“Ah, Aventurine. What a surprise, I was sure not to include your name in the list of attendees tonight.“She sends a look to the white haired cornerstone, before directing her gaze to you. “Unfortunately, ranks below P40 are prohibited from attending this meeting. Guards, please see her out.”

You push against the guard that seizes your wrist, but are unable to resist as more come to his aid. After having the door shoved in your face, you’re dragged to the hallway outside of the meeting hall, forced to sit in wait. 

30 minutes. Another 30. An hour before the doors open, with Aventurine first, Topaz following close behind. He rushes past you, eyes on the ground, gone within seconds. Concern etches your features as Topaz runs up to you, lips pursed in distress,

“Aventurine-” She pauses, hand on her chest as she catches her breath. “Please go after him. You’re the only one that he’ll see now, after what just happened.”

“What happened?”

At your inquiry, she shakes her head, nodding her head toward the direction Aventurine took off in.

“It’s best you hear it from him. But, please, go see him tonight, he needs someone who’s close to his heart.”

Worry is quick to seep into your features, but you nod. A quick visit to his office and you’re off, taking the next jet off of Pier Point, to Klimt Republic. Weaving through streets and bullet trails full of life, you arrive in the heart of Klimt just two hours later, standing on the penthouse floor of an apartment complex worth more than the entire block you’re on.

Knock, knock.

Silence. You hesitate, and knock again. 

The shuffling of feet hit the floor, and you wait in anticipation, hands firmly at your sides as the noise stops. After a few moments, the door slowly opens, and you sigh in relief.

Aventurine stands, slightly hunched against the doorframe, hair disheveled, eyes red and irritated.

“Aven, what happ-”

A pair of hands seize your wrist, tugging you inside and slamming the door behind you. 

“Not now.” Your eyes widen at the plea in his voice, whole with a basal need that makes your chest tighten. “Please, just, make me forget about it right now.”

He looms over you, yet the shadow he casts is the antonym of threatening. Fear reeks off of him like vodka, as tears brim on his waterline. The feeling spreads to your skin like wildfire, and you feel him shake as you take his face in your hands, breathing shallow and scared.

The first taste of his lips is sweet, but the salt of his tears is quick to sink in. Clumsy and trembling, your bodies rock and hit walls as you make your way to his bedroom. You throw his coat to the side as he does yours, pushing him down onto his bed as you break for air. 

Aventurine’s hair flows out around him as he falls onto the mattress, shrouding him as a halo would. You chase after him, littering his neck with soft bites that elicit soft groans from the skin beneath. You unbutton half of his shirt before diving for his collarbone, reveling in the whines that respond as you nip and bruise. 

His hands reach for your pants, and you stop him before he can reach for your panties. 

“Ah-ah, hands behind your head.” Your voice pools out smooth, running a hand down his shirt. “Just relax and let me take care of you.” 

Gently pinning his hands above him, you let go, and he complies. You reward him with a kiss, messy and careless, pulling a string of saliva between your lips when you leave them. Your free hand pushes hair out of his eyes while the other works on the zipper of his slacks, watching as his fingers lock together as you apply pressure.

A shudder leaves Aventurine’s lips as you pull his boxers down, hand gently running along the length of his dick. Teeth tug at lips as you spit on your hand, working at his cock while running your free fingers along your folds. His neck lifts up as your hands move faster, and you grin, choking the noises that threaten to spill from your mouth at the display before you.

A sight like heaven, an angel laid out for worship. Aventurine’s skin is coated in a soft sheen of sweat that shines in the dim light, hand laid over one eye whilst the other remains barely open. Under the mix of hues that resemble wild fields of flowers, blush coats his cheekbones, a light to the darkness that blooms on his neck. The vulnerability of it makes your heart soar, and you feel a fire ignite in the depths of your being that fails to stoke.

The hand that toys with your clit lifts, prodding at Aventurine’s mouth as you lower yourself on his cock. Muffled whines vibrate around your fingers, and you moan at the fullness that envelops you. You swirl your fingers in his mouth, biting on your cheek as his tongue wraps around them, sucking on the sweet taste of you. 

His hands abruptly reach up, fingers winding and tangling in hair as they pull you down, replacing fingers with lips. The sensation is hot, as if an unquenchable balm has set your skin alight. 

“Feel good?”

“What kind of- ughh- question is that?” 

You clench around him as if it's instinct, and Aventurine calls your name as he would a prayer. His moans are akin to song, divine in melody, alluring in a way that shuts your mind off from anything else but him. One of his hands leaves your hair, fingers clumsily clamping around your own, holding you like fine china. 

The stretch of his dick does little to quench the hunger within, you crave more, a devout worshiper crying a hymn of need. Your motion becomes erratic, a twist of limbs and friction that siphons tears that streak down your cheeks, falling to mix in with the sweat on your lover’s face.

“Gonna-” Aventurine chokes on his own words, eyes shut harshly as he blinks back ecstasy. “Cum.”

Your words are lost to you, only managing to groan in response as Aventurine pulls you back to him. His lips seal over yours in a searing kiss, arms winding around your back to hold you still as your orgasm shakes you. White light flashes through closed eyes as you spasm around his dick, mixing with the cum that leaks inside of you. 

The room is quiet, save the howling wind of night and the dance of unstable breath. Blankets shuffle as you drop to Aventurine’s side, allowing him to drape your discarded shirt over your bare chest. Time seems to cease as you meet his gaze, touch serene as the plains of distant worlds as he encourages you to come closer. You accept, eyes closing for a moment, feeling the warm fan of his breath over your nose.

“The IPC is funding a project to excavate Sigonia.” The silence breaks, peace shatters and your eyes snap open. “Turquoise meteorites are rare, so they’ll scrape the whole planet dry until every last piece is gone.”

Your face falls, corners of your lips pulling downward. Aventurine’s eyes are half lidded, seemingly already accepting the fate of the planet he calls home. He refuses to look your way, eyes focused somewhere past you, the sorrow spreads and leaks into your soul as it opens further. A place so full of hatred and loss, yet a place that he will never be able to let go of. It burrows within the deepest neurons, refusing to snap and forget.

“You have to say something, Aven.” You pull at his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Whatever you have to do, I’ll help you.”

“The IPC doesn’t have time to listen to Avgin.” He sighs, hope stale on his breath. “Not even if it's the last one alive.”

You still, fingers falling to rest against his cheek. Aventurine’s eyes close, brows furrowing lightly against pale skin.

“Sigonia will fall, and only Kakavasha will remain.”

Defeat. It seems that what events occurred in that meeting room left no room for conversation. Guilt flows through your veins like it’s replaced the red, and your chest aches, latching onto the horror that no doubt holds sovereignty in his head.

Kakavasha. Blessed by the heavens yet cursed by the living world. Such a beautiful name that deserves no hell it endures. 

Amidst the quietude, Aventurine’s hand slithers under the blankets, latching onto your wrist. He traces skin, knuckles brushing against your own, coming to rest intertwined.

“Can we try something?”

You nod, and your hand is slowly lifted to the air, palm against palm between your chests. You’ve seen this motion back on Sigonia, yet it’s always remained distant to you, and the words echo in obscurity. 

“I’ll go through it once, and we can do it together.”

You nod, once more. Aventurine closes his eyes for a moment, reciting a prayer lost to you in time.

“May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you… keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful… and your schemes be forever concealed.”

A brief pause passes. You sigh in unison, and lock eyes. A voice whispers within the depths of your mind, and you smile.

The memory is always alive somewhere. It’s up to us to keep it.

“May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you… keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful… and your schemes be forever concealed.”

As the last words drift off of your lips, you bend your fingers, slotting them between his. Aventurine shares your sentiment; hope flashed in the gentle smile that graces his lips. Your eyes wander, and notice that a single tear trails down his face, disappearing into his skin as it rolls.

Outside, you hear the crack of thunder. You pull Aventurine in, and in your clutch, the downpour begins.

–

Some months later…

The chatter of voices on the phone rouses you from sleep, rubbing a hand over your eyes in annoyance as you come to. Light spills through drawn curtains and open glass doors, filtering the room in hues of honey and hazel. 

“Mhm. Alright, I understand. Let’s schedule the interview for today.”

Songs of canaries and mourning doves flow through the air, and you sit up, raising a hand to block out the sun’s gaze. Aventurine sets his phone down on the bedside table, stifling a yawn with his hand. You roll onto your side, hand propped up onto your chin as you soak in the sight of your lover.

His hair is slightly ruffled from sleep, bangs astray and cast into his eyes. Only the top button of his sleep shirt is buttoned, leaving lean, sun kissed skin on display. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” You roll your eyes, allowing him to pull you in for a kiss. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You hum, knowing full well tonight has been one of the worst nights you’ve slept yet. Aventurine sees right through you, but chooses to say nothing, opting to pull you forward so half of your body drapes over him.

Today Aventurine leaves for Penacony. And, seeing as he was called in for a meeting, he’s probably leaving even sooner now. 

He seems to read your thoughts, offering a comforting peck to the corner of your lips in apology. Your hands card through his hair, head resting against his collarbone. 

You have your apprehensions about Penacony, having heard whispers on the streets of mysterious disappearances of people in the world’s famous dreamscape. The IPC has had a limited number of run-ins with the family, leading you to assume a recent grounds of suspicion has arised, and Aventurine was chosen as the solution. In his eyes, it’s just another gamble of life or death.

You’re roused from your thoughts by a tap on your cheek, making you look up at him.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” His words do little to soothe you, but you listen regardless. “The risks I take are always foolproof.”

Risk. It’s the word Aventurine lives by, a motto that claws at your heart when he’s gone. A reality that spills tears when he closes the door to your apartment, leaving only the ache of your heart in his absence. A danger that never guarantees the next time he chases his destiny will not be his last. 

You will never fight to change it, because that’s all it is. Destiny.

His phone rings, and the two of you groan before he gets up and tells the person on the other line that he’s on his way. You watch from his side of the bed as he throws his clothes on, grabbing two packed suitcases from the side of the bed before bending over to give you a kiss. The touch of his lips is bittersweet, nearly taunting as it is over before it even begins. You peck him again, running a hand over his hairline to straighten his bangs.

“Be safe out there, Aven.”

He smiles, so radiant it rivals the sun and all that it shines on. You think yourself blessed to see it survive.

“I will. Luck is always on my side.”

And he leaves. You turn to the window, awaiting the rain.

[sparkrls]

delayed proposal

MASTERLIST

Summary: in which Harry’s got a few secrets up his sleeve and Y/N just wants to know if he’s going to propose

Author’s Note: this is the blurb i was talking about with bandmates!harry x y/n. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3

Word Count: 1.1k

•••

“Are you going to propose soon?” Was the last question Harry expected to be uttered out of Y/N’s bright pink lips.

It was just another Sunday night, the couple trying to enjoy those last fleeting moments of weekend relaxation before Monday arrived with the usual burden and obligations of being working adults.

In little less than 12 hours, Y/N would be back to her 9-5 job being an assistant to a high-class executive of a finance company. Her boss had too much authority for being so irresponsible and more money than anyone would need in a lifetime. What a luxury it must be to have your dad pass down a company you didn’t know how to run down to you.

Her boss wasn’t a horrible person, he was quite respectful and kind when asking her to do tasks, he was just a very exploitative executive. He had learned from his father to be unbending and demanding.

Y/N’s work paid a good wage, enough for her to pay her bills and still have a bit left. She wasn’t one to buy luxuries, though, preferring to save money up so she could one day quit her 9-5. And then dedicate herself to the things she did every day after work: picked up her red electric guitar, adorned a black skirt that bordered on too short, and perform for (currently small) crowds of people who cheered her band on as they played.

There wasn’t anything Y/N loved quite as much as the rush of being on stage, the bass making the stage shake with each loud thrum, sticks clashing with plates of a drum and the velvet voice of an angel, Harry singing through the microphone and his eyes on her and her fingers moving over the fret of the guitar.

They played small clubs and rundown bars, getting payed a poor wage for the extrenous effort used to get four adults with full time jobs to align their schedules in order to rehearse. Sometimes all they got were free drinks, but they took what they could get and did it for the love of it.

That was how they got here, on Harry’s couch, his arm draped around her shoulders, and her head on his chest. They were watching Bluey, the way they did most nights they spent together. He would always roll his eyes when Y/N suggested it, pretending to hate it, but she knew it was his favorite show, and he always cried at the emotional episodes.

Their instruments lay forgotten on the table, his blue guitar next to her red one, as they’d spent most of the afternoon drinking beer and writing a new song.

It was a question that had been lingering in the back of Y/N’s mind, and she wasn’t quite sure why she chose that moment to blurt it out, but she did. “Are you going to propose soon?”

Harry’s gaze turned to her, eyebrows raised in light surprise, a small breath exhaled between his lips in a faint chuckle. “What?”

It was too late to take it back, so Y/N sat up and told him, “You’ve always talked about wanting to settle down and get married.” His features remained in small confusion. “We’ve been together for a while. Are you going to marry me?”

“Well, of course I’m going to marry you,” Harry said, like it were some scientific fact that everyone knew and was unchangeable. “You’re my forever, baby. I’ve written about a hundred songs about it.” His lips turned up in a smile. That smile he wore every time he told her he loved her, with a cocky and smug edge as if he were teasing her, laced with affection.

“I don’t mean we have to get married this instant, but I just, I guess we’ve never talked about if we were getting engaged or when and I-“

“Baby,” Harry cut off her nervous rambling, chuckling. He kissed her, soft lips with cracked edges from the cold and dry weather. “I already know what ring I’m going to buy. I’m just saving up for it.”

Y/N’s mind blanked for a moment. “You’re already thinking about rings?” Her lips parted in surprise.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, silly girl. You’re not the only one thinking about marriage.” He smiled at her, reassuring her that he was just teasing. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, still in shock. Here she was, getting all nervous and insecure about marriage and he had already been planning to propose. Her question now seemed a bit foolish. She looked up at him and said, “You know I don’t need some needlessly expensive ring, right? You could buy it on Aliexpress and I couldn’t care less.”

Harry looked at her with slight amusement. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said with a small nod. “It’s stupid to spend money on a ring when it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

Harry sighed. “Baby, it’s not about the ring being expensive. It’s about the ring being a symbol for my devotion to you. And I want my devotion to be apparent in the beauty of it.” He tapped the finger on her left hand where the ring would lay. “No, I don’t have to spend money on an expensive ring. That’s why I’m not just getting a huge diamond. I’m getting something you’ll love.”

“But it’s expensive and it’s a waste of money on a simple ring-“

“Is it just a ring? Or is it a symbol of matrimony, of us being together forever?” Harry said gently, correcting her statement. “Not to mention you’re going to be wearing that ring every day ‘till you die.”

Y/N made a sound of contradiction. “Unless we get a divorce.”

Harry stared at her blankly for a few moments. He deadpanned, “Not funny.”

“Kinda funny,” Y/N said with a small smile.

She waited for Harry’s stern gaze to soften with adoration the way it always did. It only took a few moments for his composure to crumble and he leaned in close to her. His nose grazed against hers as he muttered quietly, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

The way he said it sounded like a declaration of love. Everything he said to her did. Because his love could never be called in to doubt. It shone through every word he uttered, every song he wrote, every thing he did.

His lips locked onto hers once again, the tension in his muscles melting away as if all he needed to feel complete was to be pressed against her. To have every inch of skin surrounding her, the taste of beer still on her tongue, and the scent of spring enveloping his senses.

“I’m going to marry you,” Harry uttered, an oath murmured against her lips before placing a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her close once again.

[hoe4hotchner]

A night to remember

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader (x BAU)

Words: 1k

Warnings: Alcohol

A/N: Brain was not braining while writing this, so it’s a little all over. I like it though 💕

The team had just wrapped up a particularly nerve-wracking and challenging case, and with work finally behind them for the next day or two, Morgan and Prentiss had suggested a night out before flying back to Quantico to regroup for their next case. The local bar was surprisingly lively, a cozy spot with exposed brick and upbeat music.

The team arrived in high spirits. Morgan and Prentiss were especially excited finally having gotten Hotch to agree to let the team go out. They quickly took charge, persuading the bartender to mix up a round of colorful, strong cocktails. The drinks arrived, each one a vibrant concoction that pledged to a good time.

Morgan slid a drink toward you with a grin. “Here’s our special celebration cocktail. You’re going to love it.”. You looked at the drink with hesitation, not used to drinking as much as some of your more seasoned colleagues. Your college years had been spent focusing on studies, not on parties.

Emily leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, relax and enjoy. We’re here to make sure you have an unforgettable night before Mr. Suit and Tie over here cracks the whip again.”

As the evening progressed, the atmosphere became even more lively. The drinks flowed down your throat, and your demeanor shifted to an intoxicated happiness. Morgan and Prentiss ensured that you never had an empty glass, continuously encouraging you to try different cocktails, mixers, and liquors. The infectious energy around you loosened your usual restraint, and soon you were laughing more freely, even joining JJ and Spencer on the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Rossi and Hotch had stepped outside for a break, enjoying the cool night air and some quiet conversation away from the bar’s chaos. They leaned against the wall, discussing the case and catching up on personal matters. Hotch, ever the responsible one, was still keeping an eye on his team through the windows.

Morgan and Prentiss, never ones to miss an opportunity for a bit of fun, decided it was time to focus on their favorite target once again: You. They had noticed that you were incredibly lightweight when it came to drinking, and they were determined to make sure this would be your most memorable evening out with the team.

Morgan nudged at your side with a playful grin. “Alright, time for another round. You’re doing great!”

Emily joined in with a conspiratorial whisper. “We’ve got a plan. You’re going to have the best night ever. Just keep enjoying yourself.” You didn’t catch the mischievous glint in their eyes.

As the evening wore on, the booth gradually emptied, leaving you somewhat slumped over, your mind a foggy haze. Reid had joined Rossi outside, while Morgan and Emily had pulled JJ back to the dance floor for the night’s final songs. Glancing around, you noticed how the booth seemed emptier than before, leaving you confused and disoriented.

As the evening progressed, the booth you all shared became empty. You were sitting somewhat slumped over as your mind felt foggy. Reid had joined Rossi outside. Morgan and Emily had joined JJ on the dance floor as the last few songs were being played for the night. You glanced around, noticing that the booth seemed emptier than before. Not knowing where the others were.

“They left without me,” You said loudly, wobbling out of the booth. “They do this every time! Why? Doesn’t anyone love me?” The dramatic outburst drew amused glances from the few people left in the bar. The scene was more humorous than distressing, with your exaggerated tone providing a bit of comic relief.

Hotch, noticed the shift in your mood and decided it was time to step in. He quickly finished closing the team's tab before he approached with a gentle hand on your arm. “Hey, let’s get you out of here,” he said calmly. Trying not to startle you.

As they made their way to the exit, you almost stepped in a puddle of vomit left by a large, bulky man who had just finished throwing up on the sidewalk. You recoiled, exclaiming, “Eww, SICK! Hey! Wide body, curb it next time!”

Hotch quickly covered your mouth to stifle any further comments as he turned to the man with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about that,” he nods before guiding you away from the scene.

Back at the hotel, Hotch helped you into your room. The rest of the agents already having retreated into theirs. As soon as you walked in, you began looking pale and became unsteady on your feet. “I don’t feel so good,” you said, clutching your stomach.

Before Hotch could respond, you hurried to the bathroom, the sound of retching following shortly after. Hotch’s concern grew. He knocked gently on the bathroom door. “Hey, are you alright in there?”

“Yeah, just reallyyyy sick. I think I had too much to drink.” You slurred, your head bobbing a little to the side.

Hotch stayed just outside the door, ready to kick it down to help if needed. After a few minutes, you emerged, looking slightly better but still pale. Hotch helped you to bed, making sure you were alright one last time before leaving you to rest.

The next morning, the team gathered at the airport to head back to Quantico. You looked exhausted and pale, clearly not having slept very well and still feeling the effects of Morgan and Emily's overindulgence. Your head was spinning. They couldn’t resist teasing you about it.

“Hey, baby face,” Morgan said with a grin, “looks like someone had a rough night. I guess the drinks were a bit too much?” You stuck your tongue out at him, clearly annoyed with how cheerful he was.

“Yeah, you might need to work on your drinking skills. You were quite a scene last night!” Emily joined.

You managed a weak smile and rolled your eyes. “Very funny, you two. I’ll stick to water next time. Thanks.”

“How are you feeling today?” Hotch asked, concern evident in his voice. He had been watching the exchange with a sympathetic look.

“Better,” You replied.

Hotch handed you a bottle of water. “Here, drink this. Let’s get you through the flight and back in one piece.”

On the plane ride back to Quantico, you tried to rest, still feeling the effects of the night before.

Consider linking or reblogging if you enjoy my work

[harryslittlefreakk]

boyfriends

an extra for late night talking!

summary: a tiny fluffy blurb of harry’s first interview since meeting you, and taking your relationship further 🫶🏼

warnings: pure fluff!!!

a/n: just a little taste of late night talking harry & y/n. more is coming!! i didn’t want to post this just yet but i cannot get the other ones done 🥲

you can join my taglist here! and find much better writing here!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

harry: it’ll be on in 5 😘

You turned up the radio, ready to hear Harry’s beautiful voice. It was his first interview since you’d started dating, and honestly you were quite excited to see if you’d come up. You hoped you wouldn’t, hating how quick people were to invade his privacy, but in the event that they did ask about you, you were curious to see what he’d say. After the last round of photos hit the headlines people had started to mention your resemblance to ‘kiwi girl’, though no one had really put two and two together yet. After all, with a history of dating supermodels, no one would suspect Harry would fall for a fan. Just as you got lost in your thoughts, the radio host's voice came on, introducing Harry for the interview. Even though the radio, his voice awakened the butterflies in your stomach.

He spoke about the success of Love on Tour, the millions of fans who’d seen his shows, the thousands of lives and people he’d touched. Then, he was asked about his personal life, and you held your breath, waiting to hear what he’d say about you. “And your new girlfriend, am I right in saying she’s a fan?”

“I’d hope all my girlfriends have been fans of my music.” You could almost hear the coy smirk playing on Harry’s lips.

“But yes, she is a fan. Although I’m a far bigger fan of her than she is of me,” Harry told the presenter. You smiled at his words, feeling your heart flutter with warmth.

“You seem very smitten in the photos we’ve seen, can you tell us a bit about her?" The radio host pressed, and you gripped onto your mug, eager to hear what he said. The questions were starting to get a little too personal, and it was totally vain of you, but you were completely giddy. You knew how much Harry liked you, knew how fondly he spoke about you to family and friends, but hearing him tell the world was different.

“There’s not much t’say, really. She’s great, she has a heart of gold. I’m extremely lucky to have her in my life.”

You felt a warm blush creeping up your cheeks. Since his tour had ended and you’d been able to spend more time together, not as Harry Styles and his secret, but as Harry and y/n, your relationship had gone from strength to strength. He still gave you the jitters you’d feel around a high school crush, every touch shooting electricity through your veins.

He hadn’t corrected the host when she called you his girlfriend. Whether it was out of ease or not, he hadn’t corrected her. You unintentionally tuned out of the last few minutes of the interview, trapped in your thoughts. Harry Styles’ girlfriend. You couldn’t get it out of your head, the words just echoing around your mind.

It wasn’t until you heard a key jingle in the front door that you snapped out of your daydream. You were still frozen in place, hands still wrapped around your now cold coffee. “Hi darling,” Harry greeted you as he walked around the breakfast bar. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You melted into his embrace, never feeling as at home as you did in your lover’s arms. You looked up at him, eyes filled with adoration and longing. “You were incredible, H.”

“Thank you, love,” Harry said, his voice soft. “Got asked about you,” he smirked. “I thought you were talking about your girlfriend, not me,” you giggled, eyes sparkling. “Mhm, you are my girlfriend,” Harry grinned, lifting you onto the counter.

“Were you ever going to tell me that?”

“Telling you now,” he said, planting a soft kiss on your lips. You smiled and leaned into him, chasing his mouth for more kisses. “You can’t just tell me, Harry. Got to ask me,” you laughed, outstretched finger poking at his nose. He looked over your face, grinning so wide his cheeks must have ached. “I want to marry you,” he told you softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Wrong question,” you told him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Just be mine, be all mine,” Harry drawled, eyes trailing over your face. Even with your unbrushed hair, stained pyjamas and coffee breath, you’d never been more beautiful to him. The early morning sun spilling in through the window illuminated every part of you, casting an angelic glow over you as you stared up at him. “Be my girlfriend, and please don’t dismiss my proposal when I ask you again,” he continued, running his hands over your hips.

"I never said no," you whispered with a teasing smile, gazing into Harry’s eyes. His lips brushed against yours with a featherlight touch, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. It was a gentle and tender kiss, filled with all the love and longing he could muster. Every kiss felt like the first with Harry, everything seemed to stand still as his tongue danced against yours, each movement like a silent promise between the two of you. A promise of love, trust and a future.

taglist: @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @hannah9921 @harryshotpocket @daphnesutton @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @mema10 @annageeeezzzz @cicicavill7 @drewsephrry @tswiftsgf @ashleighsss @bikestyles @he6rtshaker @prettygurl-2009 @softestqueeen

[babbushka]

Death At The Dive Bar

Flip Zimmerman X F!Reader

Inspired by this request, some weird twilight-zone occult occurrences happen to happen to our favorite detective. 3.4k, NSFW

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

It’s always the same -- a scream, a crash, broken glass bloodied on the floor. A gunshot maybe, or maybe not. In the dead of night, acts of violence hiding beneath a cloak of darkness. 

It’s always the same -- a 911 call, frantic panicked voices demanding someone come down from the station, someone please help, before it’s too late, even though the very act of them picking up the phone means it’s already done. 

It’s always the same -- until it isn't. And on a dark and stormy summer night in the thick of the Rocky Mountains, a tiny dive bar calls the nearest police dispatcher, and calmly requests to speak to one Detective Flip Zimmerman of Colorado Springs. 

Flip had been in the area when he got the call over the radio, wandering around, scoping out the woods. He knew at once where it was, had heard stories of the place of course, way back in the day when he still wore the weight of the war like a thick leather jacket around his shoulders. When he pulls up in his Chevy it looks exactly the same as it always had been described: run down, small, with a buzzing neon sign proudly proclaiming The Mile High Tavern as the best place to grab a Coors within 50 miles. Nevermind that it was the only place. 

He sits in his truck and glares at the bar. Popular with passers-through along winding scenic roads and most frequented by motorcyclists seeking shelter from the rain, he wonders (not for the first time this week) what the hell he’s getting himself into. The note from the dispatcher had been vague -- a lady was askin’ for him specifically, and he was supposed to find out why. Things like this didn’t bode well for him, usually. 

Especially not lately, not with the way his last relationship flopped. He had tried to explain to the nice woman that his job took up a lot of his time -- had hoped that her big city job had given her a different perspective, but she didn’t seem to think his work hours applied to her. That had been three months ago that she left him, and he was still sore from it. 

No, a woman asking for him directly was the last thing Flip wanted to get himself tangled up in, regardless of the reason. 

Despite the rain, there isn’t the usual line of motorcycles out front. In fact, there was only one car to be seen, an oldie -- something chrome plated and pink, but he can’t really tell in the rainy darkness. The Mile High Tavern appeared for all intents and purposes to be empty, and so Flip takes one last drag of his cigarette, makes sure his gun is loaded and in its holster, and with a sigh of resignation steps into the downpour. 

“Let me get you something nice and warm,” A friendly voice calls over to him from the counter when Flip steps over the threshold, your back turned to him. All at once, Flip’s heart begins to pound. Something about this place felt odd to him, an uneasy feeling that shifted his stomach around. He took another step closer and you continued, “I’m afraid the only hot thing we’ve got tonight is coffee.” 

“Coffee’d be just fine, thank you.” Flip nods with gratitude, before sitting at the bar. Looking around, he notes how quaint the little place is. It’s neat and clean and warm, and he confirms that you are the only person in here. He wonders if you’ve been alone long, and frowns. “I’m sorry - I’m Detective Zimmerman, someone here rang for me?” 

“I’d be that someone, yes.” You slide him a cup of black coffee down the counter that you lean against with a smile. It is dazzling, bright in the dark light of the dive bar. “Thank you for coming out here, I appreciate how quick you were.” 

Well shit, Flip grimaces into his mug, now he feels like an asshole for sitting in the truck debating when, or if, he should brave the rain to head inside. 

You smile at him like you knew he was out there biding his time, a teasing smile that lets him know you’re not mad, even though you could be. It wasn’t professional for a law officer to keep someone waiting like that. 

“What seems to be the trouble?” He doesn’t bring up the fact that they’re alone. 

It was dangerous these days, with all the murders in the woods lately. Women being slaughtered left and right by what Flip is certain is a serial killer, but no one will take him seriously enough about it to do anything. Not without more evidence. 

“Do you..” You pause, as if you’re trying to find the words. No, that’s not it, as if you’re having a hard time spitting them out, like something is preventing you. “May I sit next to you?” 

You look at him with expectation and hope, and he stares into your eyes, searching for what the hell brought him all the way out here on his night shift. The clock strikes three in the morning. 

He doesn’t notice himself nodding with allowance, until you’re walking around the counter and getting close to him. Even though it’s warm in the bar, your hands are cold. 

“Thank you,” You breathe, getting close to him. Not so close that you’re touching, but close enough that he could brush against your shoulder with his own. “I don’t usually work alone, but tonight the other server is sick, and with the storm we aren’t expecting too many people, so here I am. There was something out there.” 

You stare directly into his eyes, and he’s almost taken aback by the seriousness and bluntness of your voice. Your voice is hypnotic almost, the edges of your words fuzzy and sharp at the same time, an impossible combination that has his palms sweating. He wonders for a brief moment if you slipped something into his coffee, but the thought leaves him as soon as it arrives.

“What sort of something?” He finds himself asking quietly, not wanting whatever it is to overhear. He thinks back to the past few weeks, the broken in-houses, the tape on the floor, the screams of agony. Flip sets his jaw and leans in close, looks deep into your wide open eyes, pupils huge in the dark. 

“A figure, on the other side of the window. I saw it in the lightning, I saw its eyes. I think it’s a man. I’m scared.” You whisper, lowering your voice to match his pitch. 

“I can escort you home -- ” He goes to get up, a rush of protective energy flowing through him, scraping the bar stool against the wooden floor, the sound so so so loud in the quiet of the bar, but your hand is gripping his arm the second he gets up.

“No!” Your voice is too sharp again, dark around the edges, and Flip looks down and sees panic in your eyes. He softens immediately, and even though he’s not supposed to, even though it’s unprofessional, even though you’re a stranger, he pulls you into a hug for some comfort. You throw your arms around him in return, and he’s not certain who is comforting whom. “No -- I -- I don’t want it to know where I live, if it follows us. I was hoping you could keep me company.” 

Your face is pressed into his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he feels complete, he feels like he’s never ever going to let go. He feels like you were made to fit into his arms, against his chest. He grows hot, his throat clearing as he immediately steps back to give you some space. 

You’re a stranger. 

He doesn’t even know your name. 

The rain pounds outside and lightning flashes, and Flip snaps back to reality. 

“I don’t think I can stay all night, I would have brought backup.” He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, offering, “I can do a search of the premises, if that would make you feel better.” 

“You shouldn’t go outside.” You shake your head, and Flip lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, glad that you have relieved him from what would have been one bitch of a job. Especially when you look up at him through your lashes and bite your lip and say, “I would prefer it if you stayed in here. With me.” 

“Alright.” He smiles, throwing all caution to the wind because what the hell else is he going to do on a Monday night? “If you’d feel safer with me staying here with you, I’ll stay. But in the morning, I’ll escort you either home or to another safe location, or hell even to the station and you can give a statement, and we’ll have someone out here searching the woods.” 

“That sounds like a plan, thank you.” Your hand rests on the bar counter close to his, so close, he nudges his pinky against yours. There’s no rings on your finger, he notices. 

“In the meantime, what should we do?” He licks his lips, knowing that it’s wrong, it’s an abuse of power -- but who has power over whom? He’s getting lost in your eyes, in the pretty smile you give him as you reach over the bar counter and grab a small rectangular pack of -- 

“I have a deck of cards.” You brandish them at him, looking over your shoulder with a grin. The way you’re bent over the bartop has Flip’s mind doing awful things, things like picturing you without any of those clothes on. “You any good at poker?” 

Flip was not good at poker. 

He’s lost the past two games and you’re already shuffling for a third. The energy in the bar has relaxed significantly, and Flip is starting to forget why he’s there. 

“Let’s up the ante.” You say, in an attempt to discourage or motivate him, he isn’t sure, as you shuffle and shuffle and shuffle the cards. “Each hand someone loses, they take something off.” 

“I don’t see how this ends any other way than me naked.” Flip grunts, not entirely displeased by the prospect. 

“You could win, and then I’d be the naked one.” You point out, and he laughs, a snort through his nose that exhales blue wispy smoke from his cigarette. 

On the first hand, Flip loses -- but that’s all it takes. He unbuttons his shirt and you’re hot on him, pinching his cigarette out and flicking it into the ashtray for him, your lips searing onto his. No one can ever find out about this, can ever know he’s about to fuck this stranger on the job, fuck you silly over the bar counter while on a call, and you don’t seem like the type to tell. Not with the way you’re pulling your blouse up over your head.

He hadn’t really paid any attention to what you’re wearing until it’s off, in a heap on the floor around him. The undergarments you wear are old fashioned, a bullet bra and girdle that hold up a pair of stockings. The clothes on the floor are old fashioned too, almost like the same exact uniform that a waitress might have worn at the Tavern twenty years ago. 

But they look new, and maybe the tavern never updated their uniforms,Flip doesn’t care, not with the way your hands are on his belt, pulling his hard dick out of his pants and spitting down onto it, spreading the spit around, his tip leaking and joining the mix. 

With ragged breath, he pushes you down face first onto the bartop again, pops the straps of your bra, your garter, pushes down your stockings. They rip under his rough treatment, and he feels bad for a moment, just a moment, until his cock is rubbing at the soft wet folds of you and you let out a moan that fills the tavern with warmth. 

“I don’t have a -- ” He starts, pulling away, trying to remember that he’s almost forty for fuck’s sake, he needs to be responsible, he needs to -- 

“It’s alright.”  You reach behind him and grab at his hand, leading him to drape his body over yours, giving him permission to fuck you anyway. 

With a sharp breath he pushes in all the way, bottoms out so that his cock is completely enveloped inside of you, his hips pressed against the smooth skin of your ass, and he almost can’t move he’s so blinded by the feeling. You’re so tight, and so wet, the bar smells like musk and sweat and rain, the sweet salty combination making his mind go dizzy. 

He’s never talked much during sex, and this is no different, but in the back of his mind he wishes he had something good enough to say to you, something impressive. Instead, he thrusts in a steady harsh rhythm that has your knees buckling, your hands gripping the far edge of the bar counter, your cheek pressed against the polished wood, mouth dropped open and eyes shut tight in pleasure. 

Flip’s hands on your waist are tight enough that he could dig them into you if he wasn’t careful, he could leave marks. He almost wants to, wants you to remember him when this is over and he’ll have to go back to the station, have to write a report about all of this. Not this, not you, not the way your sweet cunt clenches around him as you take his force, take his length, hot and pulsing inside of you. 

He needs to see you, all of a sudden, he needs to. Grabbing your arms, he pulls out only long enough for you to whine in protest for a few short seconds, and then he’s taking you to a booth, taking you somewhere padded that he can lie you down and brace himself on top of you. 

You lick your lips as your head rolls back, legs spreading for him to nestle between them as he bends over you, those same legs hooking around his waist. You’re completely naked, your perky breasts begging to be sucked on, and so he does. He wonders if the rasp of his clothes on your skin feels nice, if you like it. If you like him. 

It’s too hot in here, Flip thinks, his eyes shut as he pants against your body. Too hot and bright, bright behind his eyelids as he groans and moans. He’s sweating, and it’s loud, the sound of rain too loud, its wooshing a roar that deafens his ears. He almost can’t think about anything else, can’t think about the way you feel under him, why is it so bright why is it so hot -- 

It hits you first, and you’re squirming, panting and moaning as you come. Flip can feel it squelching between your thighs, his cock pulling out shiny and glistening with your orgasm. It makes him go over the edge, his come filling you up, the hot white spread of it. He tries not to worry about fucking you raw, but it’s been a long time since he hasn’t used a rubber. 

You give him a big grin, stretching out beneath him, your legs falling to the sides where they can. It’s still raining. 

Wordlessly, he gathers you up from underneath him and settles you down on the floor, kissing all over your face, your neck, your breasts. Your stomach chuckles underneath him as you hold him close, breathing in the smell of him. He doesn’t want you to ever let go. 

“Then don’t.” You sigh into his hair there on the floor, and Flip closes his eyes, tired from the events of the day. 

He doesn’t realize that you’ve responded to his thoughts, until he’s in a deep sleep. 

In the morning, he’s alone. 

In the morning, the dive bar isn’t just old, it’s run down. The windows are smashed like kids had been playing pranks here, tossing bottles and rocks through the glass. The shelves are all empty, no liquor, nothing. 

Flip feels like he is frozen as he looks around him. Where were you? Where were the cards that had scattered all over the floor? He is fully dressed, asleep in a booth that is covered in dust and cobwebs -- it wasn’t that dirty yesterday, was it? 

He’s sick, his stomach lurching as he sits up. He doesn’t even know your name to shout it out into the bar. In the light of morning, the rain has stopped, and Flip gathers himself up on uncertain legs. He looks around, trying to find any trace of you, but there isn’t one. There’s only one set of boot prints in the dust on the floor, his own.

Confusion continues to wash over him, which slowly morphs into panic. These windows weren’t broken last night, the floor wasn’t dusty, where the fuck were you? He stumbles to his truck, his mind working double time trying to piece together what happened. Surely he hadn’t dreamt this, what was he doing last night? He wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t stoned he -- 

“Come in, Flip, come in!” A panicked voice crackles from his car, and making sure his gun is still in the holster, Flip runs right to his truck, hopping in and turning the engine over. 

“Ron?” Flip grasps the radio tightly in his hand, tuning the frequency to hear better. “Ron is that you? What’s going in?” 

“Flip! Where are you?” Ron asks, direct to the point. 

“I’m up by the fork in the mountain pass, just off the scenic highway.” 

“What?! Are you safe?” 

“Of course I’m safe, why wouldn’t I be? Ron what the fuck is happening?” Flip’s eyes are hard on the tavern, and even from the outside, something is wrong. This place was not open last night, it couldn’t have been. The walls are blackened with soot, the doors are boarded shut. How did he get in -- how did he get out?

“There was flash flooding, down the scenic road. It brought rocks down with it from all the rain. Search and rescue found a couple cars down the cliffside.” Ron rushes to explain, and Flip feels like he’s going to be sick. 

“They’re dead?” He pinches the bridge of his nose -- people were getting caught up in a flash flood while he was getting laid last night. 

“Yeah. You need to get back here, where did you say you were at again?” Ron asks, and Flip can hear that he’s pulling out a pen and paper from his desk. 

“Mile High Tavern. I spent the night here” Flip responds, and then there’s silence. “Ron? Did you hear me? I said I’m at -- ”

“I heard you, but that’s not possible.” Ron’s voice is shaken, “That bar burned down back in ‘57.” 

All at once, everything stops. 

He blinks, and he’s in the roar of the inferno as he comes into your body.

He blinks again, and the bar is gone entirely. 

Nothing remaining but a patch of scorched earth in its place. 

No neon sign. 

No motorcycles

No single car out front. 

Ron is saying something on the radio, but Flip can’t hear. He is reversing out of there so quickly that he almost misses the flash of something behind him -- almost. Flip looks back in his rearview mirror at the bar and sees something, a shape, a young woman in old fashioned clothing far away, through the trees. 

A hand waves, and Flip knows that whatever you were, you saved him, protected him from the flash flood that killed. You saved him, and he fucked you, and he’s sick to his stomach about that, not sure what was real and what isn’t, not sure of anything anymore except that he wants to find you and do it all over again. 

But he blinks, and you’re gone. 

[vintagerpg]

NECA’s D&D Ultimates are basically surgical strikes on my wallet. The math is simple: what if vintage toy with a heap of associated nostalgia, but larger, more detailed, and in-line with modern high-end toy techniques. Basically: the character you saw in your mind’s eye as a kid when you looked at the kind of doofy toy; the potential realized. Here’s Warduke (2023), in all his Ultimate glory. I’ve included a picture of the original so you can see just how far we’ve come.

Some really nice decisions and details. The big one is in the physique — Mr. Duke is brawy, but still pretty compact, which, coupled with his unorthodox armor, tells me a lot about the character: an opportunistic, agility fighter more reliant on mobility than brute force (though capable of the latter when needed). He’s got a big suite of accessories: multiple hands, shield, long sword, short sword, kukri. Each of the blades has a sheath it fits into and the long sword has an additional flaming accessory which is super cool (er, hot). These Ultimates use a couple different sorts of plastics, too — the helmet wings are super hard, for instance, while the belts and pauldron are soft to allow for mobility.

An all-timer. Warduke sets the bar high for the rest of the line!

[the-iceni-bitch]

Always Living in the Final Hour

Summary: Bachelor and bachelorette weekend shenanigans with the (almost) quadrouple.

Words: ~5.5k

Relationship(s): Ransom Drysdale x Ari Levinson, Ransom Drysdale x Ari Levinson x female!reader, Jake Jensen x female!reader (platonic - for now), little peeks at the quadrouple to come y’all.

Warning: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected anal sex, m receiving oral sex, rimming, feminization), established relationships, secrets revealed, mentions of homophobia, misunderstandings, they’re all cute and dumb and in love, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: I love them so much 😭

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on my fics follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

You grinned when you heard the knock at your hotel room door, finishing putting your earrings in and adjusting your tits in your dress before pulling the door open and beaming at Jake.

“Hey… wow, look at you!” He gave you his own smile when he got a look at you, spinning you around then pulling you into a warm embrace once he’d taken you in. “You look amazing, you’re a fucking bombshell.”

“Shut up, you’re so fucking cute.” You giggled when he kissed you on the cheek, playing with the edge of his shirt and kissing him back before dragging him out the door. “Is everyone ready to go!”

“Yep, just waiting on your fine ass.” Jake laughed and smacked your ass playfully as you made your way to the elevator, giving you a mocking pout when you turned around and slapped his chest in retaliation before chewing on his lip with a bit of residual anxiety. “You’re really sure it’s okay for me to be here? They’re your friends and I’m just… some dude.”

“Yeah, some dude who’s sucked the same dick I have and is a giant sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes and dragged him after you onto the elevator, leaning against his chest and winding your fingers through his affectionately. “Plus, we’re officially besties after that skinny dipping incident.”

“Skinny dipping? I told you, I thought I walked through a spider web!” He tickled you and laughed when you pinched his cheek. “Felt like I had the creepy crawlies all over me. No one made you take your clothes off, weirdo.”

“That’s true, but I love being naked, and don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it!” You let him give you a tight hug and lift you off your feet once the doors opened to the lobby, waving at your group and laughing when they cheered as they spotted you. “So since we’ve seen all of each other, and spilled our guts over wine, and we’re best friends, you have to be at my bachelorette party, no arguments, blondie. Alright bitches! We doing any bars or going straight to the strip clubs?”

“Oh shit, is this what you use to fuel your jet, Levinson?” Ransom coughed after downing the shot Ari had handed him, frowning when the larger man just chuckled around his cigar and reached over to squeeze his thigh. “Is it even safe for me to smoke after drinking that?”

“It’s fine, don’t be a baby.” Ari grinned even wider when Ransom smacked his hand away, waving down the waitress to bring another bourbon for the groom. “Stick to your boring brown liquor, Drysdale. And just one more cigar, think your boys are getting antsy.”

“What? Oh my god.” Ransom rolled his eyes when he he looked towards where the frat boys were gathered, waving dismissively when Logan gestured meaningfully at his watch. “Yeah, go! We’ll meet you there. Ridiculous.”

“Mmhm, well, I think they were planning on there being a lot more strippers by this point.” Ari watched them leave before taking the new drinks from the waitress, giving her a large bill and winking at her when she smiled at him before shrugging when Ransom gave him a look. “What?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Ransom almost inhaled his scotch when Ari cooed sympathetically and scooted closer to him, letting out a delighted laugh when he placed his hand very high up on his thigh and leaned close to nuzzle at his jaw. “Ari! You’re such a whore!”

“And you’re so jealous, poor baby.” Ari bit Ransom’s ear gently before sliding his hand even higher, squeezing Ransom’s thigh and purring when the man whined and leaned into his touch. “I'm so sorry, pretty boy, you deserve all the attention, you’re getting married after all. Gonna have such a pretty wife to spoil you and treat you nice like you deserve.”

“Fuck, you know how worked up I get when anyone calls her my wife, you teasing bastard.” Ransom downed the rest of his drink and growled before turning to face Ari, practically crawling into the man’s lap when he finally slid his hand up to cup his bulge as he smashed their lips together. “I’m going to marry her, god she’s so fucking perfect.”

“You’re both perfect, shit.” Ari groaned when Ransom rocked his hips and sucked on Ari’s bottom lip, standing quickly and pulling the younger man with him before he had a chance to protest. “Don’t give me that look, I don’t wanna lose my membership to this place just because we’re both sluts. We’re gonna finish in the car.”

“Yeah, that’ll work.” Ransom whined when Ari pressed him against the side of the car and kissed him hungrily, letting him throw him into the backseat once he got the door open and yanking him on top of his body when they started to drive away. “We don’t even have time to do anything.”

“Nonsense, we have plenty of time.” Ari pulled Ransom’s knees around his hips and molded their lips together, humming when he felt his hard cock pressed against his own and ground into him. “We’re both nice and worked up, pretty sure I can get one out of you, you’re easy.”

“‘M not… shit.” Ransom tossed his head back and gasped when Ari pressed into him harder, whimpering when he felt his beard scratching against his throat as he licked that spot that drove him crazy and he rolled his hips up to meet him. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t stop.”

“Mmm, never sweet boy.” Ari sucked on the hinge of Ransom’s jaw and moaned when he felt the other man’s cock twitching through his slacks, increasing the speed of his hips and squeezing Ran’s waist when the man ran his fingers through his hair. “Give it to me, honey, just want you to enjoy your party.”

Ransom sobbed when Ari curled his hand around his neck and squeezed lightly, his body arching off the back seat as he yanked on the older man’s hair while his cock throbbed and pulsed while he came all over the inside of the pretty red panties you’d insisted he wear. He felt Ari’s cock twitching as well and grinned when the other man purred against his neck and licked his throat, at least until he heard the click of a camera shutter and slapped Ari’s shoulders while he laughed softly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Ransom pouted and turned his face away when Ari tried to kiss him again, leaving the man to press his lips to his cheek and huffing when he saw him texting someone. “You sending that to her?”

“She said she wanted regular updates, and I think the first orgasm of the night is something she’d want to know about.” Ari shoved his phone back in his pocket and gripped Ransom’s chin, forcing his gaze back to him and giving him a sly smile as he rubbed their noses together. “Now quit being a brat and kiss me.”

Ransom couldn’t help but giggle when Ari suckled on his bottom lip before sliding his tongue into his mouth, winding his arms around his neck and sighing softly as he melted into the kiss. He had never been happier about his choice for best man, a weekend of sex with Ari interspersed with drinking and smoking and luxury clubs really was the perfect way to celebrate his pending nuptials. There wasn’t a thing he could think of that would ruin his good time, except maybe…

“What took you so…” both of them froze when the door opened and they were suddenly face to face with Logan, Ransom trying to decide between shoving Ari off and denying everything or just burying his face in the bear’s neck to hide. “What in the actual fuck, Drysdale?!”

You screeched happily when Jake whispered a filthy joke in your ear after you pointed out the gorgeous man across the dance floor who had been eyeing him, slapping his chest and biting his ear when he picked you up and spun you around. Once the song was over your whole group made its way back to your booth to do even more shots before heading to the strip club, the rest of the women just rolling their eyes and teasing you every time you and Jake got a little affectionate, mostly because whenever they did he turned absolutely pink and tried to splutter out an explanation, which was completely adorable. They were all totally in love with him, especially after he almost punched some asshole who didn’t want to take the hint that none of you were interested in doing body shots with him when he called you a bunch of drunk cunts. Of course, what actually ended up happening was you all dog piled the douche bag and managed to get in a few good licks before Jake finally pulled all of you off and herded you out of the bar while you screamed obscenities back at the chauvinist that made Jake crack up as soon as he was sure you were all okay, but after that every single one of you was officially in love with him.

“No, I can’t have tequila!” He was all pink again when you rested your head on his shoulder and gave him a messy grin as you held the shot in front of his face. “I really can’t, or I might actually go over there and ask that guy to smack me in the face with his dick.”

“You should, he’s hot!” You squealed and clapped happily when he took the shot from you with a cute little grumble and slammed it down. “C’mon, let’s go hook you up.”

“No, bombshell, no!” He laughed when you pouted at him when he refused to budge, pulling you close and tweaking your nose as he pulled you with the group towards the exit even as he started to feel warm and loose from the tequila. “This is your night, I’m not going to abandon you just to hook up with some, admittedly beautiful, random guy.”

“You’re so sweet, blondie.” You settled in his lap after you all climbed into the limo, letting out a drunk hiccup and walking your fingers across his broad chest with a hum. “I’m gonna find you a boyfriend, though. Gimme my phone, wanna see if my puppy is having a good time.”

Jake rested his cheek on the top of your head and chuckled while you played with his shirt absentmindedly, ignoring the chatter from the rest of the group as he reached into your purse and grabbed your phone. He didn’t mean to look at the screen, he really didn’t, but the picture came up and he couldn’t help it, his face blanching immediately as he slapped the phone down against the seat and tried to avoid looking at you.

“Jakey? What’s up?” You frowned when he just shook his head at you and pressed his mouth in a thin line. “Is something wrong? Give me my phone.”

“I ca… I can’t.” He was struggling to come up with a good reason he couldn’t give it to you, the tequila was getting to him. “It must have fallen out of your purse at the club.”

“What? Jake, I saw you pull it out of my purse.” Now you were annoyed, why was he being so sneaky all of a sudden? “Lemme see.”

“I can’t… shit!” He cursed himself when you managed to move faster than he thought you could and snatched the phone out of his grip, trying to wrestle it away from you and failing when you somehow pinned him to the seat and sat on his chest. “Baby, it’s nothing, don’t look at it!”

“What the fuck are you on about?” You ignored his continued protests as you unlocked your screen and pulled up your texts. “There’s nothing here. Why are you so worried?”

“Nothing? Ran is cheating on you!” He clapped his hand over his mouth as soon as he said it, shaking his head when you gave him a very aggressive glare and all the other conversations on the limo stopped and suddenly your friends were all screaming about how they were going to kick that pretty boy’s ass.

“God, you’re all so fucking dramatic, calm down!” You had to start chucking ice at all of them when they started pulling up their phones to send threats to your fiancé, still staring daggers at Jake, even though there was no way you could stay mad at him, he was just trying to protect you. “Ransom is not cheating on me. It’s Ari!”

“Who cares who it is, I’m going to cut that man’s balls off!” Taylor dodged the plastic cup you threw at her as she kept cursing.

“No, I mean… thanks for this blondie.” Jake at least looked slightly embarrassed. “We’re kinda, sorta, but not totally, in a poly thing with the sex god.”

That shut all of them up, Jake’s eyes bugging out of his head as he stared at you while the rest of your friends just gave you blank looks that made you a little nervous. You had never planned on making this part of your relationship public, but here you were. You hoped Ran’s night was going better.

“It’s not a big deal!” Ransom felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest as he avoided the stares of his friends, all of whom looked very upset with him. “Nothing happened!”

“Oh, right!” He wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole, or that he could just go back to the hotel with Ari and spend the rest of the weekend letting him fuck every thought out of his head, instead of being stuck with all his friends scolding him in some strip club for hooking up with a guy. “That’s why you were both sporting pants tents and trying to suck each other’s faces off.”

“You boys need to calm down.” Ari rolled his eyes when they gave him nasty looks, sighing when he tried to put an arm around Ransom to comfort him and the man practically cowered. “I’m not gonna put up with any of your homophobic bull shit towards him, so lock it up.”

“What? Homophobic?” Dylan had the sense to at least look slightly embarrassed. “Who give a fuck about that, he’s cheating on his fiancée?”

“Yeah, news flash, we all know you’re bi, Drysdale.” Chaz shot a glare at Logan when he looked like he was thinking of making a joke. “No one cares.”

“You know?” Ransom hated how small his voice sounded, letting Ari put an arm around him this time and blowing out a shuddering breath when he leaned into the man without thought. “How?”

“Sloane told us, was trying to get all of us to dump you so she could make you totally dependent on her, like we’d leave you alone with that bitch. We’ve been waiting for you to come out for years.” Dylan shoved Logan when he started to open his mouth again. “But how could you do this to your girl, Ran, you’re fucking lost for her? You realize that all of our girls will kill us if they find out you cheated on her?”

“Alright, let’s all just relax.” Ari decided to take over since Ransom looked like he’d just been hit by a brick wall, pulling his phone up and scrolling up through the group chat. “No one is cheating.”

“Oh, and what would you call it?” Dylan took Ari’s phone and scowled as he looked at the screen, his expression melting into one of confusion as he read all the texts you sent about how pretty Ransom looked when he was choking on Ari’s dick and how much you loved both of them. “Huh.”

“What?” Chaz took the phone when Dylan handed it to him, blowing out a deep breath that had Ransom burning his face in his hands as he groaned and leaned into Ari even more. “Alright then. Are you… happy?”

Ransom just nodded, his growl drowned out by Ari’s when they heard Logan choke on a laugh once he got a look at the texts, Ari snatching the phone out of his hand when he started to scroll through the messages like a damn snoop. Everyone looked massively uncomfortable as all of them just stared at each other, Ransom chewing on his lips until Ari gripped his chin and tugged his mouth open with his thumb.

“Jesus Christ, everyone is so fucking uptight.” Logan rolled his eyes after a few minutes of awkward silence, leaning forward and clapping Ransom on the shoulder then snorting when the man jumped. “Look, Drysdale, I’m just happy that even though you’re getting married you’re still kind of a man whore. So why don’t we all get over this little misunderstanding and hit that gay strip club down the block. Apparently, they have a special on body shots with their dancers. I bet they’ll love you two.”

“So all three of you sleep together?” You rolled your eyes when you nodded in answer to the question for what felt like the tenth time, glad that no one was talking about castrating your future husband at least. “Is… are you guys marrying Ari too?”

“No! Oh my god.” You groaned and gave Jake a look when he kept rubbing your shoulders, he felt absurdly guilty about blabbing and you’d had to spend a good five minutes listening to him apologize. “Ransom and I are in love, and we love Ari, but as our absolute best friend who we also sleep with… a lot. Can we just go enjoy the strippers, please? And thanks so much for helping me explain things, Anne.”

“This is so not on me, you could’ve been up front about your little throuple situation.” Your maid of honor just laughed when you snarled at her. “Yeah yeah, you don’t want to define it, whatever. I’ll buy you a lap dance.”

“Fine, you’re all buying me lap dances!” They finally seemed to be able to move past their initial shock, letting out some light cheers when you stopped in front of the club and all started to climb out until they were eventually giggling when they thought about doing more shots. “I wanna be covered in body glitter and smell like Viva La Juicy by the time we leave. Can I have my phone now, blondie? Want to actually check on the boy toy.”

“Yeah.” Poor Jake had been beet red for the past five minutes, only getting even redder when you kissed his cheek and gave his shoulder a squeeze when he handed your phone back to you. “I’m really sorry, again.”

“Jake, I can’t stay mad at you, so please stop apologizing.” You wound your arm through his and leaned your head on his shoulder, smiling when he pressed his cheek against your forehead and let out a deep breath as he handed you your phone. “You’re my bestie blondie, people would’ve found out anyway, though I will admit it would have been nice if it hadn’t been a surprise. Now, go find me all the pretty twunk strippers, okay?”

He gave you a shy smile before walking away to find you a dancer, still blushing all cute and being his adorable self in a way that was sure to endear him to everyone. You just shook your head fondly as you pulled up your texts, chuckling to yourself and leaning against the bar while you texted Ransom that he did not have to worry about your bridal party castrating him, and that he should enjoy getting turned inside out by his boyfriend and you loved him more than anything.

The sheer amount of alcohol Ransom managed to consume at the marathon of strip clubs had helped him calm down, and being able to just be open now about who he was and what he wanted. Plus, Ari. Ari was always there and the feeling of his hands on Ransom’s body and the occasional brush of his lips against his cheek had pulled any residual stress right out of him, and also gotten him stupidly turned on. The man was a menace. Which was why the two of them had stayed in the bar of Ari’s hotel after the rest of the frat boys went back to their rooms, Ransom leaning on Ari’s shoulder and playing with his hair while he begged him to do all sorts of nasty things to him.

“Baby, you’re so worked up, goddamn.” Ari gave him a sly grin when Ransom whined in his ear, unable to fight the urge he always had to be a giant tease. “Not even sure you could really handle me doing everything you want right now, might make you black out before we have any real fun.”

“Please? Just wanna feel your mouth on my pussy.” Ransom was feeling so warm and buzzed after all the champagne and whiskey he’d consumed through the whole night, nuzzling into Ari’s neck and giggling when he almost spat out his scotch.

“Your what?!” The man hissed low enough that Ransom could barely hear him over the noise of the hotel bar, moaning when the older man gripped the back of his neck and forced his gaze to his as he chewed on his lip. “Your girl know you talk like this, boy?”

Ransom’s knees almost buckled at the low growl of ‘boy’ against his lips, grabbing the front of Ari’s shirt to keep himself upright and whining as his cock throbbed in his soft silk panties.

“You mean Daddy?” Ransom purred when Ari’s pupils somehow blew even wider, only a thin ring of ice around deep black pools he could lose himself in while the bearded man grabbed his ass and pulled him closer. “Daddy loves when I talk about my little pussy. She tells me how pretty it is and how sweet it tastes when it’s all wet and crying for cock. Don’t you wanna taste, sir?”

“Christ, come on.” Ari dragged Ransom after him towards the elevator with a yelp as he basically manhandled the younger man, shoving him inside when the doors opened and pressed the front of his body against his as Ransom panted desperately. “Gimme your phone, gonna check in with your… fuck… your daddy and make sure we’re not stepping over some kind of line.”

Ransom stamped his foot and pouted when Ari started dialing your number, trying to kiss him and whining when the larger man shoved him off and forced him to be still with a hand on his throat.

“Gorgeous?” Ari ignored the way Ransom was trying to grind his hips into him as he leaned him against the wall while the lift headed to the penthouse, frowning at the man while he waited for you to head somewhere quiet. “Your boy’s been drinking a little bit and running that mouth of his. Wanted to check in. Yeah? One second.”

“Puppy?” Ransom purred when Ari put his phone on speaker and the sound of your voice washed over him, making him feel all warm and syrupy as Ari just gave him a curious look. “Baby, you feeling all sweet?”

“Yeah Daddy.” Ransom sighed as he sank into the wall, already feeling his cock starting to leak as he thought about how worked up you probably were after whatever you’d been doing tonight. “Miss you, just wanted sir to give me his fat cock to tide me over a little.”

“That right, pup?” Your voice was low and mixed perfectly with Ari’s deep growl at being called sir, making Ransom’s eyes roll back in his head and his tongue feel like it was too thick for his mouth all of a sudden. “Want him to feed your hungry little pussy?”

“Oh, please.” Ransom could hardly breathe when Ari’s whole body pressed against his, feeling the heavy weight of his dick grinding against his hip as he clutched desperately at his waist. “Need it.”

“You’re lucky Daddy doesn’t mind sharing that pretty little cunt, sweet boy. And that I love spoiling my puppy.” You could tell Ransom was gone from the desperate mewl you heard over the phone, grinning to yourself as you started addressing your ex who sounded like he was heading towards his own kind of lost with the heady growl he let out. “Ari?”

“Yeah?” Ari hummed as he ran his nose over Ransom’s, cupping the man’s jaw softly as they exchanged breath while he dipped his tongue between his parted lips.

“Wreck him.” You chuckled when you heard a feral snarl before the sounds of messy kissing traveled over the phone, squirming a little when you pictured the scene that must be unfolding as Ari prepared to devour your sweet boy. “And make sure you take video!”

“Mmhm.” Ari’s grumbled reply was all he could get out before he was hanging up the phone and burying a hand in Ransom’s hair, sliding the other down his body until he could grab his ass and jiggle it before giving it a good smack.

Ransom was a mewling, keening mess by the time the elevator doors opened to the penthouse, panting desperately and flushed and having difficulty keeping his feet when Ari started shoving him back towards the bedroom. The man had been right, he felt like he was going to explode just from the rough kisses and greedy touches, he was probably going to go into a coma once they got to the good stuff.

“You want me to eat that pretty little pussy, boy?” Ransom yelped when Ari threw him onto the bed after stripping him out of his clothes in a rush while he pulled out his phone to start filming, growling at the sight of the younger man in nothing but his feminine little wine red thong. “Show it to me.”

Ransom whimpered as he turned slowly onto his stomach while Ari watched, making a show of arching his back while he drew his knees up to his chest until he was basically presenting for the older man. He bit his lip and peeked over his shoulder when he heard Ari let out an appreciative groan at the sight of him sliding the thin strip of fabric to the side while he spread his cheeks, giggling when he strode forward and grabbed his hip harshly with his free hand.

“Christ, look at that.” Ari purred when Ransom moaned at the feel of him spitting right on his twitching skin, his pretty hole winking for the camera while he keened when Ari slapped his ass hard. “No wonder your Daddy’s so happy all the damn time, you fucking spoil her with this shit, don’t you?” Ari let out a grunt when Ransom’s only response was a thin mewl, setting the camera on the end table so it had a good view of that sweet ass as he kneeled behind Ransom. “Let’s give her a good show, yeah?”

He didn’t have any chance to prepare before Ari was burying his face between his cheeks, the older man growling against his skin as he dragged his tongue all over his fluttering hole before sucking on it lewdly. The scrape of his teeth over his soft skin had Ransom’s eyes falling closed, his back arching more as he ground his ass back against Ari’s face and let out soft needy sounds.

Ari loved how fucking desperate Ran got when he was drunk, could truly understand why you called him puppy when he was whining and wiggling and begging him to keep going. Ransom stretched his arms above his head and keened when Ari leaned back and spat on him again, rubbing his cheek against the comforter when he nipped at his clenching hole before pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over his ass.

When he ducked lower to suck on his balls, Ransom knew he was going to explode, his breath coming in shallow pants as his cock twitched where it was pinned against his abs by the band of his panties. Then he shoved a finger from each hand inside him and yanked him open so he could spit inside him and Ransom could feel tears leaking down his cheeks, his precum running down his abs like a faucet when Ari pushed his tongue inside him and started fucking him with it.

Ransom whined obscenely when he finally came, his toes curling as Ari’s tongue kept punching into his fluttering hole while the older man groaned appreciatively. He could feel his cum soaking the front of his panties and abs as his cock twitched slowly, another shiver traveling up his spine when the older man gave his balls a harsh squeeze before he rose up on his knees.

“That’s it honey, such a good fucking boy.” Ari grabbed a cheek in each hand and spread Ransom wide, purring at the sight of his pretty hole twitching and winking at him while he just panted into the mattress. “Look at that pretty little pussy, so fucking wet and needy, making a mess all over this bed. Think I should make you squirt, boy?”

“Oh god, please.” Ransom’s eyes rolled back in head when he felt Ari’s thick cock slap against the curve of his ass, keening when he hooked his thumb into his ass and pulled. “Fuck me, sir, fill my tight little pussy up til it’s leaking. Wanna feel you for the rest of the weekend.”

“Yeah, you want it bad?” Ari grabbed Ransom by his throat and yanked him up until his chest was pressed to his back, biting his ear harshly until the younger man started grinding desperately against him. “Want me to fuck this sweet little cunt raw until she’s gaping and ruined? Let’s hope we don’t piss your daddy off, she’d kick both our asses.”

That was all the warning Ransom had before Ari shoved his hips forward and impaled him on his cock, all the breath getting pushed out of his lungs as every muscle in his core spasmed at the sudden intrusion. Ari shoved his fingers in his mouth and groaned in his ear while he started driving into him, nuzzling at his cheek as he set a vicious pace and his other hand dug into his waist.

It was taking all his focus not to black out, he felt like he was getting ripped in half in the best way. Every thrust had Ari’s dick dragging over his swollen prostate, Ransom letting out small yelps each time his hips slapped against his ass while he drooled all over his chin and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Ransom squealed when Ari pulled out of him in a rush and flipped him over, grabbing his knees and holding himself open as the larger man lined himself up again. He groaned when Ari slammed back into him, arching his back to meet each punch of his hips and whining when his cock started leaking all over his abs.

“God, you’re already a fucking mess, honey.” Ari leaned over him and cupped his cheek gently, a sharp contrast to the way his hips were definitely going to be leaving bruises on his ass. “You gonna make an even bigger one? Gonna squirt all over yourself while I fill this pretty little pussy?”

“Yes sir.” Ransom gasped when Ari ground into his ass, humming when he shoved his fingers into his open mouth and swirling his tongue around them. “Please, fill my pussy.”

Ari grinned down at Ransom as he kept sucking on his fingers, cooing when he yelped at Ari grabbing his cock through his panties. The harsh contact was all he needed to come with a sharp cry, his whole body spasming wildly as he came so hard it almost hit him in the face. He kept shivering when Ari curled over him and sank his teeth into his jaw, tears leaking down his cheeks as warmth spread from his core while Ari pumped his cum into him.

“Mmm, such a messy boy.” Ari gave him a soft kiss before straightening up, biting his lip and purring when he got a look at his cum dribbling out of Ransom’s swollen and abused hole. Ransom just hummed as he sank further into the mattress, running his hands lazily over his cum covered torso while Ari grabbed the phone. “C’mon honey, show your Daddy how pretty you look then we’ll get you cleaned up.”

Ransom managed to arch his back all pretty while Ari took his picture and sent it to you, all happy and fuzzy as he floated in the warmth of post-orgasmic bliss. He was vaguely aware of Ari relaying that you said you wanted to lick your pretty puppy clean before he let his eyes fall closed. Damn, he felt so fucking good. The only thing that could have made it better was if you were actually there with them. Maybe he could convince you to convince Ari to come on the honeymoon so he could get it from both ends.

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: This one is for all the pirate!Jake lovers out there. I hope I did him justice. 

Word Count: 4k

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, strangers to lovers (maybe), oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex, cursing, dirty talk. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

You could feel his dark eyes on you from the moment he had walked through the door. They studied you – marking your every move as you wiped down the bar with a rag. They watched you closer still as you took breaks from cleaning to bring jugs of ale and rum to the other patrons. 

He hadn’t ordered anything, only sat in the far corner of the bar, and watched. You’d given yourself a long enough glance to see his long hair spilling out across his shoulders and the way he clasped his fingers – almost each of them adorned with rings, in front of him on the table. You had not been able to see his face clearly. Only a glance of a sharp nose and deep, thoughtful eyes. 

But you had seen the glint of gold at his side, the cutlass sheath hanging low on his waist. And on his other hip, three ornate revolvers. Between those, the plethora of necklaces hanging against his exposed chest, and the weathered, strong hands… It's clear enough what he is. And based on the way everyone else seems to be steering clear of him, all the other patrons know, too. 

Pirate. 

The word carried with it a thrill down your spine. Ruthless, bloodthirsty men who take what they want and bow to no one. Dangerous, untrustworthy, and all together men that you should avoid at all costs. But yet here one is, sitting at your bar. 

As if summoned by your thoughts, that ringed hand raises in the air – two fingers curling in a ‘come hither’ motion. You place your rag down, wiping your palms on your skirts, and glide over to his corner. Finally, you meet those dark eyes of his, taking in his full features for the first time tonight.  

Brown eyes, almost black. Dark lashes that cast shadows along his cheekbones in the candlelight. Plump lips – soft and pink looking in a way that’s completely at odds with the tan, weathered face. Handsome, yes. Very handsome. Perhaps one of the handsomest men you’d ever seen. But that only makes him all the more dangerous. 

Chin held high, you stop at last in front of him. Rough fingertips tap a beat on the wood of the bar. Those lips tilt upwards in a barely-there smirk. 

“What can I do for ya?”

The smirk widens, revealing a flash of white teeth. 

“Oh,” A tilt of the head, hair swishing, “I imagine a great number of things. Or the other way ‘round.”

You narrow your eyes as he grins up at you, eyes glittering. His voice is soft – softer than you’d expect from the mouth of a pirate. 

“Presumptuous.” You say flatly, fighting a smirk of your own.

He inclines his head, the chains around his neck clinking where they rest against his exposed chest. You drop your eyes to his hands, noting the way they still tap on the wood. Then to his forearms, his white shirt rolled up to reveal the sturdiness of them, the tan skin only marred by a few thin scars crisscrossing upwards and disappearing beneath the fabric. 

He clears his throat and your cheeks warm but he saves you from having to defend your wandering gaze. 

“Just some ale. Top shelf.”

“We’ve only got the one.” You tell him, turning away to grab for a bottle from the only shelf that this little tavern has. “Hope it’s to your taste.”

“I’m sure it will be.” 

You pour the amber liquid into the glass before sliding it across the bar to him. His fingers wrap around the crystal and bring it up to his lips. He takes one sip, tongue swiping across his bottom lip before putting it down again. 

“What’s your name, lady?” He asks, just as you begin to turn away. 

“None of your concern, I reckon.” He raises a brow at that.

You meet his gaze with a fiery one of your own, hoping to convey to him that you're in no mood for his attempts at flirtation. But his smile only widens. He clearly hadn't bought the lie.

“And why is that, lass? You’re a beautiful woman. I’d love to have a name that goes with it.”

“If I tell you my name, will you leave me alone?” You give him your best, sweetest smile and bat your eyelashes. 

“No promises.” 

You scowl at him but that smile of his stays fixed in place. It makes you even angrier that it’s just as beautiful as the rest of him. 

“Y/n.” You say at last, turning away. “Now I have other patrons to attend to.”

“You’re not going to ask for mine?” He asks, arching a brow and bringing his glass to his lips again. 

“I don’t care.”

This time, you don’t look back as you move away from him to the other end of the bar. You hadn’t been lying – there are other patrons that need serving so you quickly try and shove him from your mind as you continue to work. 

But you can feel his eyes on you. You can still see his smirk. And the image of his fingertips drumming on the wood, the muscles in his scarred forearm flexing with each tap, is seared into your brain. You can’t stop thinking about it. 

//

The night wears on, others coming and going but he stays right where he is. You fill his glass two more times, not saying a word to him either time despite the way his eyes rake up your form. But he makes no attempt at speaking again. 

At least, not until you take your apron off and hang it up on a hook behind the wall after the girl for the next shift arrives. You see him shift in his seat, pushing his glass away from him before rising. 

Heart hammering, you duck outside of the tavern, eyeing the empty streets. It’s late – most are already indoors, preparing for bed. Before you can even think of a way to escape him, the bell over the door rings and out he steps, a long, dark coat tossed over his shoulders, the ends of it just brushing the ground. 

“Good lady.” He murmurs, smiling at you as he takes pointed steps until he’s standing just a little bit away from you. “Might I ask where you’re going off to?”

“Home.” You answer blandly, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s late.”

“That it is.” Another step forward. “Too late for me to, in good conscience, allow a young woman such as yourself to walk home alone.”

“It’s not far.” You take a step of your own – this one away from him. “I’m sure I’ll be alright.”

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. 

“There could be all manner of men out there, lurking and waiting for someone like you.” There's an edge to his tone now. He's not used to being told no so adamantly.

“And a man like you is a better alternative?” You ask, smirking a little as you cross your arms over your chest at the chilled wind that blows through. 

“Like me?” There’s that smirk again as he places a hand across his heart in mock hurt. “And what type of man am I?” 

“You know what kind.” 

At your answer, he closes the gap between you once again, pressing in so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath and the salt on his skin from the sea air. 

“Yes. But I’d like to hear you say it.” 

“Pirate.” You breathe out, the word tasting sharp on your tongue as you once again become acutely aware of the strength his body holds and of the weapons that hang on his belt. 

“Aye. A terrible, dirty, awful pirate.” He croons, before offering his arm to you. “Shall we?”

With an eye roll and a sigh, you loop your arm with his, the warmth of him instantly easing some of the chill that had begun to settle in.  

The two of you walk side by side through the dark streets, hardly a word spoken between the two of you. He hadn’t been wrong – there’s all manner of evil men that lurk out here in the night and usually you take a long way home in order to avoid all the dark, looming alleys where they like to hide. But with him at your side, you don’t have to. Indeed, any time any of them so much as glance your way, their eyes immediately fall to him instead, and then look away. His aura is powerful – a sense of danger that clings to him as you walk. His steps are casual but his hand remains lazily draped across the handle of one of his revolvers and none of the men are stupid enough to trifle with him. 

When at last the two of you arrive at the door of your small apartments, he lets his grip on your arm fall. You instantly feel the loss of warmth.

“Jacob.” He breaks the silence at last and you tilt your head. “My name.” He clarifies. 

“Thank you. Jacob.” You unlock your door, turning your back to him completely as you begin to step through the threshold. 

“Are you not going to invite me in?” He teases, a boyish smile on his face.

“What for?” You ask, giving him the most innocent face you can. You can’t help but to tease back, that damn aura of his drawing you in like a siren’s song. 

A shrug and his grin turns devilish. 

“I’m sure we could think of somethin’ to do.” 

“You don’t have important piratical matters to attend to?”

“I’m sure my crew can survive without me f’r a night. They’ll have to since I’ve got a beautiful woman standin’ in front of me.” Your cheeks warm. “And I don’t plan on lettin’ her slip through my fingers.”

You widen your door and step aside, beckoning him in to the warmth within. 

“Then I suppose I’ll allow it.”

As the door shuts behind him you make your way over to the hearth, kindling up a fire that washes the room in a warm glow. Jacob stands in the middle, watching as you slip off your shoes and place them on the rug. 

“Are you just going to stand?” You straighten and face him fully, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. 

At last, he moves, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the hook by the door like it's habit before moving to unfasten the belt that holds his weapons. As he does so, his eyes stay focused on you. 

“I was jus’ thinkin’.” He places them on the table with a thud. 

“About?”

“You. All the things I’d like to do, if you’ll let me.” He doesn’t hesitate in his answer and heat floods your core. “Will you let me?”

“What’s this?” You tease, stepping towards him and grazing your fingertips against his jawline. “A pirate captain asking for permission?”

“Don’t tell anyone.” He whispers, a knowing, familiar glimmer flashing through his eyes.  “And how did you know that I’m a captain?” He's so close to laughter but he somehow manages to pull himself together and steel hie expression.

You shrug, fingers dropping down his chest and beginning to work to untuck his shirt from his black trousers, allowing you to ghost your fingers over the sensitive flesh of his stomach. 

“Just a feeling.” You can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips, fighting it the best you can. 

Jacob grins, leaning his head forward and softly bumping it with yours, nuzzling into you softly – the action, you can’t help but think, so similar to a cat brushing up against its owner. 

“So can I?” He asks into the skin of your neck, the words rumbling deep in his chest. 

A single nod from you is all it takes for him to be on you – those plush lips that you’ve been admiring all night finally crashing into yours. His tongue slips through, exploring your mouth as he moans at finally getting to taste you. It’s ravenous, the way you two devour each other, hands wandering anywhere they can to feel each other at last. When your lungs finally begin to burn with your need for air, you pull away, resting your forehead against his. 

“God, I missed you.”

Jacob smiles softly, relieved that the act has finally dropped and he can speak his mind at last. 

“I have missed you every second that I have been away. Every night spent in an empty bed a reminder of how much I wished I was here instead.” 

His lips drop to the column of your throat, nipping and biting as you toss your head back and tangle your fingers in his hair. 

This is a game you play often when he returns from one of his long voyages – playing as if the two of you don’t know each other. The banter, the restraint, the teasing… It's all part of the game. It’s yours and his favorite game to play. But the need outweighs it all now – the need to feel him against you once again. To feel all of him after these long months of his absence. Months of worrying for him as you know well the dangers of his profession. Some days, you can barely stand the fear that he could meet his death out there on the seas and you would never know what happened. 

But you push that thought away, focusing instead on the fact that he is here, solid and real before you and eyeing you like he might devour you on the spot. 

Hooking your fingers around his wrist, you tug him to your bedroom, swiping a candle and lighting it from the hearth on your way. You place it on the bedside, spinning around to Jacob where he stands unbuttoning his shirt. The fabric pools at his feet on the floor and you grip your own blouse in your fingers in order to tug it off. 

“Wait.” You freeze, eyes finding him in the dim light. His lips are swollen and slick as he approaches you, his hands replacing yours where they grip the fabric. “Let me.”

You nod, hands falling limply at your sides. 

Slowly, methodically, he pulls your blouse over your head and tosses it to the floor. Then nimble fingers reach behind you, loosening the ribbon that had been tying back your hair. Then he’s sliding your skirts down your thighs, his eyes roaming every inch of skin as he slowly reveals it for himself. When at last you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, he slowly removes them as well. Bare before him at last, he drops to his knees in front of you. 

“Beautiful.” He whispers, his hands wrapping around your ankles. The cold of his rings makes you gasp a little, wetness flooding between your thighs. Dragging his palms up the length of your legs, he sweeps his eyes up to you. “I missed you, treasure.” 

You close your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his rough hands sweeping up to cup your behind, squeezing the muscle and groaning softly to himself. 

His hands fall away and you blink open your eyes at him, taking in the breathtaking view of him on his knees before you. A pirate bows to no one… A captain especially. But Jacob always bows to you. He revels in it. Aches for it. Just as much as you ache for him – maybe even more. 

“C’mere.” He murmurs, hands sliding down to grip behind your thighs even tighter to pull you closer. 

He leaves hot, wet kisses along your inner thighs as your core begins to pulse and throb with your need. You can still remember that first time he pleasured you like this – with his hot mouth licking through your folds like a man starved. You’d been stunned at the time, having never even considered that such a thing was possible, as you’d only ever known of sex to be for the purpose of child-bearing. But he had shown you that it could be about pleasure. That sex could be an act of love, unselfish and undemanding as he’d brought you to your orgasm over and over again on his tongue until you physically couldn’t anymore. He’d admitted to you that night that he would happily die between your thighs, content to feast on you and you alone for the rest of his days. 

And now, as he hooks your leg over his shoulder and finally, finally, laps against your swollen bundle of nerves, you really do believe him. You cry out sharply, head tossing back and Jacob moaning in answer. His fingers dig in harshly to your skin as he pools all his focus on you and your pleasure, alternating between circling the tip of his tongue around your bud and slipping his tongue into your entrance. He moves slowly – unhurried, as if wanting this moment to stretch out forever. Perhaps he does. 

“Jacob.” You whine, fingers gripping his shoulders as your legs threaten to give out beneath you thanks to his hard work. 

He groans in answer, head beginning to thrash from side to side as he works you closer and closer. The heat inside you builds, overtaking every nerve ending and making you feel as if liquid fire runs through your veins. Hazily, drunk off the pleasure, you try and focus your eyes on him, on the sight of him losing himself in you. But your attention is snagged instead by the movement of his hand dropping from its place on your thigh and coming to palm himself through his trousers. He moans again, tongue working faster, as he begins to rub himself through the fabric – as if he can’t wait a moment longer for some bit of relief. 

And it's that thought – the thought that bringing you pleasure makes him ache with his own desire, that brings you to your release. The wave inside you crests before finally breaking, washing you in pleasure as your body begins to convulse and shake. Your grip on Jacob’s shoulders tighten and the hand still on your thigh slides up to your hip to steady you as you fight to stay on your feet under the onslaught of the intense pleasure. 

It feels like it goes on forever before Jacob finally pulls away, chin and lips glistening with your release. He licks his lips, wipes his chin with the back of his hand, and then licks that up too. 

“You taste even better than I remember.” His voice is gruff, wrecked with lust. He rises, hands finding your cheeks and caressing them softly. 

You are struck once again with the true paradox that Jacob is. A pirate – rough and sea-weathered, who holds you with such gentle reverence. 

“I need you inside me.” You whisper, breaths still uneven. “Now.”

“So demanding, treasure.” He smirks at you, dirty and full of wicked promises. “On the bed.”

On shaky legs, you climb onto the mattress. You settle onto your knees, arms extended out and palms on the bed. You arch, presenting yourself for him. Behind you, you hear a hiss and the sound of fabric rustling as he takes off his trousers. The bed dips and then he’s hovering above you, the cold of his medallions touching your heated skin making you jump a little bit. He laughs, low in his chest, and swipes a hand down your spine. His fingertips are so rough but the touch is gentle, just barely there, as he makes his way down to your hips. 

“I dream of this.” He murmurs, his other hand fisting his hard length and pumping himself a few times. “Of seeing you like this, of the way you feel. Of the little noises you make that slowly grow into screams and cries when you’re close.” A stuttered moan. “I dream of getting to fuck you again.” 

You squirm and whine, slick dripping down your thighs in anticipation as he speaks such dirty words. 

“Jacob, please. I want to feel you.”

He chuckles, running the velvety tip of his cock through your folds. 

“Ask nicely, my love.” 

“Captain,” You whine, not all embarrassed of how desperate you sound. “Please. Please fuck me.”

“Shit.” He hisses. “I love hearing such filthy words from such a pretty mouth.”

Finally, he spears himself into you. Your eyes water at the familiar stretch of him, at the feeling of him sliding against your walls, at the way his tip buries itself so deeply inside of you. Moans punch out of both of you and Jacob’s palms settle heavily upon your hips, rings clinking together.

He draws back, until he’s just barely inside of you, and then slams back into you again. You arch, jaw dropping open as he sets a brutal pace. His hips slap against your backside coupled with the sound of your wetness and the sounds of yours and his moans create a beautiful symphony of sin – one that never fails to set your entire body ablaze with lust. He pulls your hips back to meet him with each thrust, groaning each time that your walls clench helplessly around him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ.” He bites out, gritting his teeth. “That’s it. So good for me. Tell me how it feels, treasure.”

All you can do is moan louder, babbling nonsense that’s a mix of his name and ‘oh god’s. You can’t get your brain to focus on anything other than the pleasure, of the way he hits that special spot inside of you that makes you see stars. It’s too much, it’s not enough. You can feel him everywhere – every sense completely overtaken by him. 

A sharp crack to your behind makes you gasp and whimper, the sting of his rings a delicious and welcomed sensation.

"Tell me." He demands, driving into you even harder.

It takes every bit of focus you have left to form the words. You have no control over them, the pleasure and lust fogging your brain speaking for you.

"So good, my love. So. Fucking. Good." He growls, eyes fixed on where he's slipping in and out of you. "You feel perfect, Jacob. Don't stop. Please."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Just as the burn of pleasure becomes almost unbearable, as the tears begin to fall in earnest down your cheeks, Jacob stops. You whine in protest but he shushes you. 

“On your back, my love. I want to see your face when you fall apart on my cock.”

You do as he says and as you settle and look up, you finally get to see him in all his glory above you. His chest and cheeks are flushed red, a sheen of sweat over his entire body that glistens in the candle light. His hair, sweaty and stuck to his face and neck, and the tremble to his shoulders. And his cock – red and leaking, where it rests against his belly. 

He guides himself into you again, driving his hips into you and once again setting a bruising pace. He presses his arms into the mattress on either side of your head, his necklaces brushing against your breasts. He attaches his mouth to your nipple, biting the flesh and making you arch your back at the sting. 

Your legs begin to tremble, toes curling and fingernails raking down his back . 

“Jacob- fuck, I’m-”

“I know. I know. Me too.” 

He brings a hand up to your mouth, fingers slipping past your lips. You swirl your tongue around the digits and he whines before pulling his fingers from your mouth and dropping it between the heated spaces between your bodies. His finger makes contact with your clit, rubbing harsh circles in time with his thrusts that grow more frantic and feverish by the second. 

“Cum for me, my love. Please.”

It’s the ‘please’ that ends it. The band in your belly snaps and your vision goes white. Your whole body shakes, thighs clamping down on his sides as you scream his name. Just a moment later he frantically pulls himself out of you, stroking himself only twice more before he’s painting his hand and your belly in white. He cries out, guttural and sounding almost in pain as he strokes himself through his orgasm. 

When the haze of lust finally begins to dissipate, Jacob rises, finding his discarded shirt on the floor to delicately wipe you clean. When he’s finished, he tosses it back to the floor and presses a kiss to your lips. It’s soft – no haste behind it as all the others had been. 

“I’m glad you’re home.” You murmur. 

His hands settle themselves on your cheeks again – an action, you’re starting to realize, is his favorite. 

“Me too.”

“You were gone for a long time. Longer than usual.” 

He frowns, noting the sadness in your eyes. 

“I know. We ran into some trouble with a French frigate. We had to stop for repairs before coming here.”

Silences lapses, and you shift to climb under the blankets. Jacob does the same, immediately pulling your back against him and nuzzling into your hair. 

Your mind wanders, back to the days when you first met him. When you really did think he was just like all the rest of the cruel, bloodthirsty pirates out there. But he proved himself better. Proved himself to be one of the most loving men you'd ever met, always returning to you no matter how far he went, no matter how much wealth and spoils he finds. Always back to you. But you worry now, laying here, that perhaps one day he won't return. Maybe the wealth of his piratical career will be enough for him and he'll slowly stop coming back.

As if somehow sensing your spiralling thoughts, Jacob pulls you tighter against him, his arm looping over your waist and remaining there.

“Y/n.” A kiss to your neck, then another. “I will always come home to you. You’re the only treasure I care about. Gold, silver, indigo, silk, sugar," his voice is a comforting rumble that threatens to soothe you to sleep, "none of it could ever compare. And one day, when I've got enough of it that you will never have to work another day in that awful tavern... Never have to worry about food on the table, I promise to never leave you again."

You believe him.

~fin

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

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[isak-dot-gov]

I'm gon' make you feel it

A/n: Uh hey. This is the first time I'm posting on here so I hope you like it. Kinda nervous btw. Also not proofread.

Word count: 2226

Summary: Months after you and Rhea break up, your best friends decide to take you out for a night in the city after not seeing you for a while. while there, you run into Rhea and the rest of the Judgement Day.

Warnings: Suggestive(nothing actually done tho)

My masterlist :)

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

“Y/n, come on. We haven’t gone out in so long,” I heard Jasmine say.

“She’s right, y/n/n, you’ve been MIA for so long now. Please come out with us,” Eve says.

Jasmine and Eve have been my best friends since the three of us were in the first grade. We were placed at the same table in the classroom’s seating chart on the first day and we’ve been friends ever since. They have been with me through all my highs, lows, and everything in between. From celebrating birthdays and acing tests to comforting each other through heartbreaks and family troubles, our bond has only grown stronger. We've shared countless sleepovers, road trips, and late-night talks that have made us inseparable.

Tonight they were trying to get me to join them on one of our ‘late night adventures’. Basically what would happen is that we would get ready to go out and hit the city with zero plans or expectations on what we would be doing or what the outcome of the night would be. Sometimes it would be going from one club to the other and sleeping over at one of our houses. Other times it would end with us getting matching tattoos. The most recent one of these nights was about six months ago, a month after I broke up with Rhea. We got tipsy, went to a trampoline park and I ended up getting a brand new set of nipple piercings. To say these nights were some of the most fun I’ve ever had would definitely be an understatement.

“Girls, I don’t think I’m up to it tonight. I’ve been so busy with work lately,” I said with a tired sigh. Ever since Rhea and I broke up, I’ve thrown myself into my work as a way of avoiding the feelings I not only had for our situation but for her as well. Rhea and I broke up seven months ago after a huge argument. She felt that I shouldn’t be having so many female friends and that I could potentially be cheating on her with one of them, which was completely untrue. The reason I had so many female friends was because I was in an all-girls school for my whole primary and highschool, because of this women have always taken up the majority of my social life. Unfortunately for me, Rhea had always been the jealous type and no amount of reassurance that I gave her ever seemed to calm the green monster that tended to take over whenever I hung out with people she didn’t like. Getting to the point where I was willing to let her go was hard, but I was able to do it after Jasmine and Eve showed me exactly how unhealthy we were together.

I was a wreck for a few weeks after the breakup. Rhea would constantly call, so much so that I had to turn my phone off and only have it on during the hours that she spent working because I knew she tended to stay far away from her phone during those hours. I never wanted to leave the house and I barely got any sleep in. Thankfully, my best friends got sick of it quite quickly and made me start coming out of my shell again.

“Girl, that’s exactly why we should be going out tonight,” Eve says.

“Let loose a little. Give us 30 minutes of your time. We promise if you really feel uncomfortable after that time we’ll go to my place and watch a movie or something,” Jasmine says.

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” my best friends say in unison. 

“Ok ok, I’ll do it,” I say with a smile.

“Yes!”

“Fuck yeah!”

___________________

Two hours later and I’m sitting on a bar stool with my friends on either side of me and my third drink of the night in my hand. We reminisce on our primary and highschool years when four people enter the bar and completely shift the atmosphere in the room. I notice the bartender slightly shift her posture and briefly check herself in the reflective wall that stood behind her, facing those sitting in the bar. After she does so I hear a familiar voice next to me say and my high spirit for the night is immediately crushed.

“Uh can I get two whiskeys on the rocks, a gin and tonic, and a martini?” Damian, Rhea’s friend and fellow Judgement Day member, says next to me. I freeze and shut my eyes tightly, while doing so, I hear Jasmine and Eve fall silent and keep their eyes on me. Once I open my eyes, I notice their eyes on me as they carry sympathy for my current state.

“Oh hey, y/n. I haven’t seen you since…” he trails off and I can hear the cautious tone in his voice as he stops himself from saying anything that would make me uncomfortable. I always preferred Damian over the rest of Rhea’s friends, he always felt the need to make sure I was ok and in moments like these, I really appreciated him for it.

“Hey, Dami. How have you been? What brings you out here?” I saw with a strained smile. I have no idea why I feel this way or why I’m acting this way towards him. He never did anything to me, in fact, all he’s ever done was look out for me.

“I’ve been doing alright. Judgement Day’s going to Wrestlemania, so we decided to go out for drinks as a way of celebrating,” he says with a soft smile. Soon after, the bartender brings the drinks he ordered for him and his friends with a flirty smile and a wink. Uh, ok I guess.

“Anyways, I’ll hopefully see you around. I’ll tell the rest you say hi,” he says.

“Oh you don’t need to…” I start but he walks away before I get to the end of my sentence.

“Well that went better than I thought it would,” Jasmine says obliviously. Eve and I shoot her side-eyes as she gives the two of us a genuine smile, the Essence blush she’s wearing showing on her cheeks a little more due to the lighting in the bar.

“Do you want to leave, y/n. We don’t mind if you do,” Eve says compassionately.

“No no. We were having fun. I don’t want to leave yet,” I say and genuinely mean. I haven’t felt this free in so long and I would be damned if I let Rhea’s presence in this bar ruin that freedom for me.

My friends both give me light nods and we continue with our conversation. As the night continues, one of our favourite songs from our highschool years, ‘No Hands’ by Waka Flocka Flame, starts playing. The three of us immediately get hyped and start making our way to the dance floor to dance. The start of that song marks a streak of throwback songs from the DJ and we continue dancing for a while. As we do so I feel multiple pairs of eyes on me, when I look up I notice Rhea and the rest of her friends watching me. I make eye contact with each of them one by one before my eyes focus on the girl whose whole being makes my heart dizzy. She has an attentive look with a hint of longing in her eyes as she undresses me with them. With the new found confidence in my system brought by the many drinks I've had tonight, I find it in me to wink and decide to give her a show.

‘Feel It’ by Jacquees starts blaring through the speakers and my friends and I huddle up onto each other by our fronts and backs. I’m in front with Jasmine right behind me, her left hand on my left hip and her right hand on Eve’s right hip and Eve’s hands on both of Jasmine’s hips. We start swaying together to the beat of the song and sing along. At the position I’m standing at, I have a clear view of Rhea’s booth on the upper level of the bar. She’s sitting forward with her elbows on her knees and a drink in her hand as she watches me intensely. The chorus of the song starts and I start swaying my hips in circles as Jasmine and Eve take it as a sign to follow my lead. The three of us move in sync as the song continues. I get a little too into the song as a few minutes later I feel Jasmine’s hand remove itself from my hips and two, much larger, hands replace hers on either side of my hands.

“You two wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your friend for the night, would you?” 

My girls take a moment to look at me for reassurance in the response they’re going to give and I nod lightly as a sign of telling them I’ll be ok with her.

“Oh sure, Rhea. Take her home in the morning and don’t do any weird shit,” Jasmine says as she turns her attention to Eve.

“Call us if she starts acting up,” Eve says, sending a glare with her blue eyes to Rhea. I nod and feel Rhea pull me by my waist to the exit of the bar. We walk to her car slowly and in silence as the heels I chose to wear tonight start proving to be harder to walk in. Rhea quickly got impatient with my instability and swiftly lifted me up bridal style before making the rest of the walk to her car. She opens the door to her passenger seat and softly places me in the seat before closing the door and climbing in at the driver’s side.

“You’ve never done that before,” I say as she pulls out of her parking spot and makes her way to her house.

She looks at me briefly with confusion and says, “What do you mean, y/n?”

“You’ve never opened the car door for me. That’s a first.”

“Huh. I guess it is,” she says.

As I look around in her car I notice a bright pink hair tie on her wrist. Without thinking I point at it and say, “Where’d you get that? I like it. Might just get one.”

“Sweetness, this is yours. You left it at mine after you know what happened,” she says.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” a moment of silence passes before she says, “How have you been, sweetness. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

Fuck. There’s that Australian accent that I’ve never had the self-control to resist.

“Uh, um, I’ve been good. I mean, as good as a person can be after a break up. You know, I don’t think you should be calling me that,” I say.

“Calling you what, sweetness?” she asks.

“Sweetness. It does things to me.”

She chuckles lightly before she says, “It does things to you? Whatever could you be talking about, my love?”

I tilt my head back into the headrest of the car as I exhale deeply. “Don’t play dumb with me, Rhea. We both know you’re way smarter than that. Don’t act like you have no idea all the things you do to my body by simply being this close to me. This isn’t a good idea and  we know it isn’t.”

“But I’ve missed you,” was her only response.

“I know, Rhea. And I’ve missed you too. You know that,” I say.

As she parks in her driveway she turns to me and asks, “Then why did you leave me?”

I turn towards her and respond, “We weren’t good for each other. You know that. I know that. We were only pulling each other down by being together.”

She gives me a tight lipped smile before saying, “What do I need to do? I can be better, I promise I can. I know I wasn’t a good girlfriend in the past. I was a dick. We both know that, and even when you tried to make me feel secure in our relationship I still pushed you away and blamed you for all my insecurities. I just need the chance to prove that to you. I don’t think I can hand any more time away from you, baby. Take me back. Please?”

This is a side of Rhea I’ve never seen before, and I chose to proceed cautiously because of that. She has always had the ability to use her words to get what she wants from people. However, something in the way she was looking at me made me feel like she was being sincere and my heart couldn’t help but fall for her all over again.

“Fuck I missed you,” I say as I capture her lips with mine. The kiss started out softly but turned hard and passionate really quickly. Rhea held onto me extremely tightly as if she was afraid I’d vanish at any moment. Her hands travelled to my waist and squeezed tightly, earning a breathy whimper from my lips.

“Rhea,” I said in a moan as her lips found their way on my neck.

“Mhm, baby? Tell me what you need,” she said.

“Please take me your house and fuck me.”

“That I can definitely do for you, sweetness.”

[eiightysixbaby]

magic man

‘you don’t have to love me yet, let’s get high a while’

word count: 3.8k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut smut smut!!! minors DNI. swearing, mention of drinking and drug usage (weed), oral (f receiving), slight edging, unprotected p in v, creampie, reader and eddie get high and reader drinks a little but everything is consensual - none of that shady shit, spanking, slight degradation/name calling, reader has a shitty ex (brief mention of manipulative tendencies), reader gets hit on by a creepy perv, eddie makes you watch yourself while he fucks you, overall filth (if I forgot anything pls let me know!)

summary: after moving to a new town to get away from a shitty ex-boyfriend and leave your past behind, you find yourself having even more guy troubles. it’s best to just give up on men entirely - right?

Your empty glass clinks against the top of the bar as you set it down, motioning to the bartender to bring you another drink. You exhale deeply through your nose, grounding yourself, holding back the frustrated tears. You really thought moving out of the city and into a small town, into Hawkins, would be good for you. Thought it would let you escape the shitty men of your past and start fresh. But here you were, sitting on a sticky barstool where your date was supposed to be resting beside you, instead completely alone. This was your third date with this guy, things had been going so well - or so you thought. He decided not to show, and clearly must’ve, y’know, forgotten to tell you. Ha. You sneered to yourself, fuck this.

Electric guitar and drums blared from the tiny stage crammed at the back wall of the even tinier bar. Some local band played, gathering a crowd of about fifteen intoxicated people who whooped and hollered as they played. You take a long sip of your second drink before turning your attention onto the band fully. Their music was loud, a little sloppy, but honestly they had potential. You hop down from the stool you sat on and stand at the back of the crowd, drink in hand. You bob along lightly to the heavy sounds coming from the stage, letting yourself get immersed in the passion and anger the music radiated. You catch the singer’s eye as he performs and you’re enamored for a moment, the liquor rushing to your brain as you get lost in the man’s deep brown eyes. He all but stares you down as the song lyrics tumble from his mouth. Brown curly hair falls in his face, and his ringed fingers work at his guitar. Ripped black skinny jeans hug his legs, chains dangling from the pockets, and on his torso he wears a dark grey Dio shirt, holes cut into the neckline. You chew on your lip as you gaze up at him, watch him as he gets almost intimate with the microphone. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you suddenly feel warm. Blame it on the alcohol, yeah, sure. The song comes to a close and the unnamed singer speaks into the microphone.

“Thank you all so much for listening tonight, we love to see people enjoying our music! We are Corroded Coffin, and we’ve got one last song for you guys,” his eyes are drawn to you as he talks, and you feel unsteady on your feet.

The final song starts, the drummer tapping his sticks together to count the band in, and you rip your gaze from the beautiful man seducing the audience. You remember the reason you’re at this bar in the first place, and a sour taste fills your mouth. No more guys. Not right now. You don’t think you could handle another round of getting your hopes up, just to be inevitably let down by yet another man with too much audacity. You turn on your heels and return to the seat you’d been at before, trying your best to drown out the remainder of Corroded Coffin’s set.

Maybe 20 minutes go by before you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn, and once again meet the same dark brown eyes that held you before. The singer from the band stands inches away from you, a kind smile on his face.

“This seat taken?” he asks, sticking his thumb out towards the stool next to you.

You shake your head, and he sits.

“I’m Eddie,” he extends his hand for you to shake. “I uh- I saw you watching the set from the crowd. What’d ya think?” his voice is kind, almost shy.

“Y/N,” you introduce yourself before continuing, “listen Eddie, your set was great and you’re very talented, but I really better be going..” you shift in your seat.

His eyes haven’t left you this whole time and you feel like you’re suffocating. You can’t handle another disappointment, it’s best to cut this one off before it even starts.

“Woah, hey, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry,” he grabs your arm gently to stop your movement, the metal of his rings cold on your skin.

“Please don’t touch me,” you jerk yourself out of his grip, grabbing your purse to leave.

You shuffle out of your seat, leaving cash for the bartender and turning around quickly to exit the bar. As you turn though, a larger man bumps into you, spilling his drink down the front of your shirt.

“Shit, baby, didn’t see you there…” he purrs at you, his breath reeks of whiskey.

He puts his hands on your waist in an effort to pull you closer to him. You attempt to shove him away and see Eddie rise from his seat out of your peripheral vision.

“Get the fuck off of me,” you spit, but the man is simply too big and too strong for you to break out of his grip completely.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he laughs.

“She said get the fuck off,” Eddie’s voice is firm, loud. Completely different than the tone he had just used with you.

Eddie grabs the man from behind and shoves him, yelling at him to keep his hands to himself. You don’t stay to see what happens next, fleeing out the front door and collapsing against the outside wall of the building. The fresh air fills your lungs, a stark contrast from the sweaty, musty air of the bar. Your chest heaves, the now sticky fabric of your shirt clinging to your skin. Your face is hot and flushed with anger, and your eyes are shut tight as you hear the door to the bar open beside you.

“Hey, Y/N, fuck… are you okay?” You hear Eddie’s voice.

When you don’t respond, Eddie comes to lean on the wall beside you. He sparks a cigarette, offering it to you when he sees your breathing has slowed. Hesitantly, you reach for it, taking a long drag.

“Thank you. For doing that for me,” you say finally, turning to look at the boy next to you as you pass the cigarette back to him.

“Shit, you don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. Christ knows what that fucker would’ve done if given the chance,” Eddie scoffs, kicking at the gravel beneath his feet.

“Yeah,” you laugh, a bitter and cold sound. “I thought tonight couldn’t get any worse… and then it did,” you shake your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks plainly, blowing smoke out of his mouth as he speaks.

“I was supposed to have a date tonight… son of a bitch didn’t show, didn’t even call,” you scoff. “Not to mention I moved here to escape my asshole of an ex-..” you cut yourself off, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, you don’t wanna hear all of this.”

“You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable telling me, sweetheart. I’ve got all night.” He meets your stare and the look in his eyes is genuine, soft.

“I don’t really wanna get into it all- I just need a distraction,” you say finally.

“Wanna come back to my place? Get high for a while?” Eddie asks you, and he catches the hesitance in your face. “I promise I’m not like, a psycho killer or anything like that,” he raises his hands in mock defense.

“I don’t know, Eddie, I-,” you start, chewing on your lip as you talk.

You’re hesitant to agree, not sure what you’re getting into. Not sure if you’re ready to fall for someone again. Not sure if you like the way your heart pounds when he looks at you.

“Relax, we don’t have to fall in love or anything, sweetheart. I just think we could get to know each other better,” he says as if reading your mind.

And, fuck, there’s something so electric about him. He’s drawing you to him and he’s not even trying. Something in you is telling you to just go home, get in bed with some ice cream and forget about guys for the next century - and the other part of you is urging you to go with him, screaming ‘Go, you dumbass, he’s hot!’

“Yeah, okay, sure. I walked here so, can I hitch a ride with you?” You hear yourself ask him, mind racing as you do it.

“Of course, sweetheart. No way I’d let you walk. Let’s go,” and he’s stomping out his cigarette, urging you to follow him.

The ride to the trailer park is short, and you don’t do much talking on the way there. Eddie opens the door of his van for you, and you hop out into the warm July air. The night seems to buzz with anticipation.

“Welcome to my palace,” he extends his arm theatrically, opening the trailer door for you. “I live here with my uncle but, uh, he works nights.” Eddie explains, as you look around at all the knick knacks littering the trailer walls. “Oh shit, hey, let’s get you out of that shirt, yeah?” He motions to the stain on your shirt from the spilled drink.

You nod, and he jogs down the hall to what you presume to be his bedroom, returning with a clean shirt for you.

“Bathroom’s down the hall on the right,” he smiles.

You change into the clothing he gave you - a black Def Leppard ‘88 Tour t-shirt - and meet him back in the living room. His eyes widen when he sees you and he clears his throat awkwardly. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Shit- sorry, you uh, you look nice. In that.” His voice comes out almost squeaky, strained.

“No falling in love, remember?” You tease, sitting down on the couch beside him where he’s already rolling a joint for you to share.

The two of you pass the joint back and forth, talking about anything and everything. You relax more and more the longer you talk. Eddie tells you more about his band, you tell him about your life in the city before moving here. You end up telling him more about your ex-boyfriend, the manipulation and lies, all of the heartache he put you through. Eddie listens to the whole thing, resting a gentle hand on your knee, easing your nerves. Eddie tells you about his ex, too, a girl named Chrissy. Says they dated for a few months before they realized it just wasn’t gonna work for them, they wanted different things. You pretend not to notice the way he’s shifted closer to you slowly over the course of the last hour. He pretends not to notice the way you get caught up and stare at his lips while he talks.

The two of you fall silent eventually, simply enjoying each others company. Eddie’s hand rests on your thigh, his shoulder touching yours with how close he is to you. Your mind feels like it’s coated in honey, everything around you feels so sweet as you sink further into your high. Eddie’s watching you, his chocolate brown eyes never leaving your pretty face. He allows himself to rub soft circles into the fabric of your jeans where his hand rests, and you shiver at the touch.

“You okay, sweet thing?” He asks.

“Mhmmm,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Eddie’s presence is comforting. You feel safe around him, secure. It doesn’t feel the way it did to be around other guys, like you’re simply waiting for them to destroy the nice vibe you have going. No, being around Eddie feels different. And you’re letting yourself sink into it.

You brave a glance up at him, and he’s staring down the bridge of his nose at you. “You’re really pretty,” you say, giggling.

“Hey, now, sweetheart. I thought we said no falling in love,” Eddie retorts, but his smile completely shatters his mock-serious tone.

You laugh, and he revels in it. He cups your chin in his hand, and lifts your head up so you’re eye-level with him. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, and you lick your lips as a nervous habit. His gaze gets darker as your tongue pokes out of your mouth, his fingers still gently holding your chin. He smells like smoke and vanilla and booze and it somehow mixes together in the most delicious way.

“Kiss me, Eddie, please,” you breathe, your head spinning and your senses filled with nothing but Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into him. His lips are soft, but demanding in the way they work against yours. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hands are all over you, on your thighs, your hips, your ass, searching every inch of your body.

“Fuck, baby, I need more of you. Can I have more of you?” he asks, breathless as he pulls away from your mouth.

“Yes, Eddie, please,” and with that, he’s lifting you bridal-style off of his sofa and carrying you to his bedroom.

He sets you down on the bed and immediately you’re pulling your shirt over your head and then grabbing at the hem of his. You don’t know what came over you but you know that you need him. Kissing you, licking you, filling you with him. His energy is addictive and fuck, you’re hooked. Once the two of you are down to your underwear, Eddie’s mouth is on you again. Claiming your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, and honestly if it weren’t for the weed in your system, you’d probably be embarrassed at the sounds leaving you.

Eddie kisses all the way down your body before settling himself between your thighs. He lets out an amused hum at the wet patch that’s stained your underwear.

“Fuck, sweetheart, this wet for me already?” he teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Shut up and get your mouth on me right now,” you say, but it comes out sounding like more of a beg than a demand.

Eddie smirks and shimmies your panties down your legs, trailing kisses on the insides of your thighs, biting at the plush skin. Without warning his mouth is on your dripping cunt, his tongue plunging into you like it’s his lifeline. You’re squirming and writhing beneath him, gripping his sheets so hard you’re surprised they haven’t torn. He’s a master with his tongue, like some sensual wizard, working all of his magic on you. His tongue laps at you hungrily, collecting the wetness that’s seeping out of you. He sucks on your clit, eliciting pornographic sounds from your mouth. He laughs against you, the vibrations sending delicious waves of electricity straight to your core.

“Eddie, shit- I’m so fucking close,” you breathe out, desperate beneath him.

But as soon as you get the words out, he removes himself from the spot between your thighs that weeps for him. His chin is glistening with your slick, and he’s got a devilish grin on his face.

“W-why did you stop?” You ask, not even caring about how pitiful you sound.

“Gonna make you wait til I’m inside you sweetheart, I’m gonna get you cumming so hard around my dick,” he purrs, suddenly right next to you, speaking right into your ear.

You feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, and his voice sends chills through your body. He stands up, slipping out of his boxers and letting his cock spring free. You feel like your eyes are going to pop out of your head like a cartoon as you survey his entire frame in front of you. His cock is big, maybe 8 inches, with a leaking pink tip staring you right in the face. His balls hang heavy between his thighs and you fantasize about having them in your mouth.

“Let me just grab a condom, pretty girl,” Eddie starts to open the drawer to his bedside table, but you reach over to grab his wrist.

“N-no, please. I’m on the pill. N-need you to fuck me raw, Eddie, please,” you’re fully begging him, looking up at him with wide, lust blown eyes.

Eddie’s cock twitches as he looks at your already too-fucked-out face, and he swallows the lump in his throat.

“You sure, baby?” he asks, climbing over top of you and kissing you softly.

“Yeah, fuck, need to feel all of you,” you’re breathless beneath him and your cunt is leaking a mess onto his sheets.

“Alright sweetheart, c’mon, on your hands and knees for me baby,” Eddie commands you, and you oblige immediately.

He has you facing the mirror on his wall, and he lines himself up behind you.

“I want you to watch while I fuck the shit out of you..” Eddie whispers into your ear, “-can you do that for me? Gonna watch yourself get fucked, baby?”

You’re nodding way too hard, way too fast. “Yes, Eddie, wanna watch you fuck me..”

Eddie presses a few kisses to your shoulders as he starts to spread you open with his cock. His tip pushes past your entrance, getting sucked into your velvety walls. He inhales sharply, digging his fingertips into your hips. He pushes further into you, spreading you wider for him, going deeper deeper deeper. Your insides burn deliciously at the size of him, wanting all of him and then some.

“Fuck, Eddie. Oh my god, you’re so big,” you moan beneath him, pleasure washing over you as you accommodate to the stretch to fit him.

“Look at you, taking all of me like a good girl,” he praises, rubbing a hand over your ass before leaving a swift smack on the soft skin.

You groan at the sudden sting, pushing your ass further back into him, silently pleading for more. He spanks you again - once, twice, three times, the skin turning pink. You ache for him, every slap sending shockwaves through your entire body. All you want in this moment is for him to fuck you dumb.

“Please move, Eddie, need you to move,” you whimper, watching his face twist into a sick grin in the mirror.

“So desperate for me, sweetheart,” he coos, but ultimately gives in to your request.

He doesn’t start slow, either. He pulls all the way out of you before ramming himself back in, a wet squelching sound filling the room. He keeps his thrusts at a steady pace, gripping your hips so hard you’re sure the skin will be purple and blue tomorrow. You watch the whole scene in the mirror, taking note of the way your tits bounce with his thrusts, the way he’s biting his lip in concentration. You reach one hand down to your clit and start rubbing quick circles on the sensitive bud. Eddie catches this in your reflection.

“Such a good fucking girl, touch yourself for me sweet thing,” his voice is low and thick, full of lust, and it makes your stomach flip.

He continues pounding into you from behind, a fistful of your hair in one hand, a fistful of your ass in the other. You can’t tear your eyes from the mirror, suddenly wondering why the fuck you ever thought you weren’t gonna go home with this man tonight. His balls slap-slap-slap against your skin, the noise mingling with the wet sounds from your sopping heat. Your orgasm is creeping up on you quickly, and you increase your pace on your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head. Meanwhile Eddie’s groaning behind you, so blissed out on your pussy, loving the way you squeeze around his cock. He talks you through the whole thing, degrading you in between praises, ‘Feel s’fucking good, sweetheart’ ‘Like to watch me ruin you, huh? Such a fucking whore for me’ ‘Wanna fuck you forever, baby, shit’.

“E-Eddie,” you choke out, his thick cock unrelenting in its assault on your pussy. “Don’t f-fucking stop… gonna cum,”

You’re practically sobbing beneath him, his grip on your hair and his moans filling your ears and his cock stuffing you so, so full are all sensations that become near overwhelming in the most enticing way possible. Before you can even process it, you’re clenching around his length, orgasm washing heavily over you. Eddie’s pulling on your hair roughly, keeping your head upright, ensuring that you’re watching yourself come undone.

“That’s it, baby, soak my cock,” he coos, easing you through your high.

He loosens his grip on your hair as you start to come down, your arms giving out beneath you as you slump slightly into his mattress. He holds you up with one hand under your belly, though, picking up his pace once again. You might as well be screaming beneath him and you’re positive the whole damn trailer park is getting a show, but you don’t have it in you to give a shit. He feels so good inside you and your body is practically vibrating with pleasure.

Eddie’s thrusts start to get sloppier and his breathing grows heavier than before.

“Need to cum in this pussy baby, gonna let me cum in your tight little cunt?” he’s bent over you, growling in your ear, making you tremble.

“Yes- god, Eddie! Want to be full of your cum,” you squeak back, your voice almost knocked out of you.

A few more sloppy thrusts and Eddie’s spilling inside of you, coating your walls with him. You’re really appreciating the mirror in front of you as you watch his face while he pumps you full of his cum, his head thrown back, messy curls falling around his shoulders.

He finally pulls out of you, and you completely deflate onto his mattress, body spent. You can feel his release leaking out of you, sticky and warm between your thighs. Eddie collapses beside you and immediately pulls you into him, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You okay, sweet thing?” he murmurs, rubbing your back gently with one hand.

“Mhm, you’re insanely good, what kind of spell did you put on me? I wasn’t even gonna speak to you at the bar and now I’m hooked,” you look up at him, giggling.

“I would never tell my secrets, sweetheart,” he teases. “I think you just liked me from the moment you saw me on stage,” he pokes your nose with his index finger, making you laugh.

“Yeah, okay, fine. Maybe.”

“Wanna stay the night? I can think of a few good ways I could wake you up tomorrow morning..” Eddie’s smirking at you, but his eyes are so kind, almost pleading for you to stay with him.

You think maybe, just maybe, this guy’s worth taking a chance on for the long haul.

A half hour later and the two of you are cleaned up, wrapped up in each other under the blankets on Eddie’s bed, him snoring softly with his head resting on yours. Your last thought before falling asleep, is that you should really thank your date for not showing up tonight.

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 6 - Nothing's wrong

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Nothing specific, I don’t think? Bucky still being a dick. But what else is new?

I think you guys are going to find this satisfying hehehehe.

You marched back to the bar with your head held high, refusing to allow yourself to look over at Amber and Bucky and tie yourself up in knots any longer. You checked the time on your phone and placed it on the bar shelf behind you, almost closing. You’d finish up, then when you got home you’d think about if you really want to stay in this job.

“Gonna do last call, Tom, then I’ll cash out and if you could start cleaning up”.

“Got it, boss” he replied happily.

You smiled back. You absolutely weren’t his boss, but he was sweet.

You rang the bell for last call and announced it loudly to the bar. A few of the plant guys came rushing over to order their last beers. Tom handled that while you served a couple of other dawdlers.

A tall man in a baseball cap appeared suddenly, grinning as he brandished a $20 bill.

“For you,” he said softly. “For putting up with our annoying, drunk asses all night”.

You chuckled, accepting the tip as you looked at him properly. You’d seen him earlier with the other plant guys but not really paid much attention as your focus was on the obscene number of drinks his friends kept ordering.

He was…kinda cute. A scruff of almost reddish-brown hair under his cap. Big green eyes. A dusting of stubble across his chin and jaw. Not quite as big as Bucky, but broad and sturdy.

“Ah well thank-you so much...you guys kept me busy…and I got a bunch of tips, so I guess I can’t complain,” you told him cheerily as you folded the bill and put it in your pocket. “Plus, you’ve all been well behaved, despite how much you’ve knocked back”.

“Well…this bar has the most bouncers we’ve ever seen,” he joked, thumbing the air in the direction of the MC.

You laughed. “True…that does make my job a little easier”.

“I’m sure being super cute helps too,” he grinned as he leaned in. Then his face immediately crumpled. “Oh…my god. I’m sorry. So, so lame. It sounded so smooth in my head…”

You giggled shyly, charmed by his embarrassment. “No…no it was sweet. Thanks…”

You felt yourself blushing a little, heat rushing to your cheeks as you were caught off guard by this interaction. Your previous anger melting away. You felt lighter suddenly.

“I’m Peter. Peter Quill. Hey”.

You beamed back and offered your own name as you shook the hand he’d extended to you.

You both looked at one another for a moment, your smile stretching as you allowed yourself to bathe in his attention.

“It’s last call man, you orderin’?” came a surly voice from behind Peter.

Bucky suddenly had appeared at the bar, his eyes flitting between you both.

“Uh…no, I’m good for tonight, thanks. Was just tipping your very helpful bartender before I head out”.

You smiled back at him, ignoring the heat of Bucky’s gaze on you.

“Yes…thank-you. Very much appreciated, Peter,” you responded.

You both turned to look at Bucky who seems to blanch as you use Peter’s name, but he makes no effort to move. He looked…pissed off? Riled up? His fists were clenched at his sides, his mouth a thin straight line. You weren’t sure why he was suddenly hanging around here like a bad smell, especially as he had been indisposed all evening.

Wait…is Bucky…?

Peter looked back at you, then awkwardly at Bucky, then back to you again. “Could I…uh…”

Realisation hit you like a freight train.

Oh god. He is…

…He’s jealous.

Bucky is jealous.

Peter looked at Bucky once more who remained still, watching Peter carefully. Peter seemed to accept that he had an awkward audience of one and looked back at you again before clearing his throat.

“Maybe…uh…I could get your number and we could…y’know…go out some time?”

Your face lit up and you ignored the almost imperceptible sound of the puff of air Bucky huffed out of his noise.

 “Uh…sure. Great”.

You grabbed a napkin from the holder on the bar and a pen from your pocket and scribbled down your number, practically nauseous with the dual feeling of getting a date with a cute guy and Bucky bearing witness to it. You smiled at Peter as you pushed the napkin across the bar with your fingers.

He picked it up like it was a precious artefact, holding it close to his face as he inspected it.

“Wow…right amount of numbers and everything,” he joked.

You giggled back bashfully. “Yep…I promise it’s real and not the number of a pizza place or something…”

“Honestly? I’d be impressed you had the the number for the pizza place memorised even if it did mean I was rejected…”

You both laughed and he carefully folded up the napkin and put it in his pocket. At the same time, a bunch of his group had started to down the dregs of their drinks and drift towards the exit. One nudged him on the arm as he passed, mumbling something about ‘Rocket’ being designated driver. Whatever the hell that means.

“Well…better get going. I’ll uh…see ya” he smiled.

You nodded and smiled in return as he turned and headed out. Once he’d left, you kept your eyes down and picked up a washcloth, rhythmically dabbing at the sticky drink residue on the bar surface. You could feel Bucky still looming over you, but he hadn’t said anything. You sprayed some cleaning fluid and continued.

“You’re still on the clock you know,” he muttered.

“Oh...Am I not working right now?” you asked ingenuously as you kept your eyes down on your busywork. You knew your tone was pushing it, but frankly, so was he.

“You are now…but you weren’t…then”.

The emphasis on ‘then’ was loaded and it was clear what 'then' exactly he was referring to.

“Well…I’m sorry you lost those three minutes,” you answered sharply, turning to look at him. You narrowed your eyes at his stoic frown. “How about I stay an extra three minutes after my shift…and we call it even?”

He glared back at you, knowing he didn’t have a leg to stand on and so was unable to say anything back. He'd never been strict about you chatting to customers or taking short breaks before, so he couldn't suddenly start now.

“I need to speak to you anyway,” you continued calmly as you resumed your cleaning. “About this job”.

You looked back up at him and swore you saw a flash of panic in his eyes, but it was gone so fast you couldn’t be sure.

Suddenly Amber bounded up to the bar, oblivious to the strange tension between the two of you. You suppressed an eye roll and went back to your washcloth.

“Bucky…the girls have asked if there’s an after party tonight?” she asked coyly, draping herself over him like a scarf.

Your phone vibrated loudly on the bar shelf behind you, causing both you and Bucky to glance over at it. He couldn’t fully see from his vantage point, but you watched as Wanda’s name flashed up on the screen. She was texting you, not a super keen Peter on his way home.

But Bucky didn’t know that…

“Don’t worry, boss,” you told him sweetly. “I won’t pick that up until I’m off the clock”.

His nose wrinkled and for a split second he looked like a wounded puppy. If he wasn’t such an asshole you might have felt sorry for him.

“James?” Amber whined. “Party?”

You looked at him incredulously, an eyebrow cocked. His real name was James?!

He was the least Jamesy James you’d ever met.

“Nope, not tonight” he sternly replied to her, but his eyes stayed on you.

“Tell Sam you need a ride, Ambs. I gotta do some work stuff”.

And with that, he stormed off to the back office.

Amber pouted as she watched him go, then looked back at you. “What’s up with him?”

You shrugged. “Beats me”.

She sighed and flopped down onto a bar stool, then began rifling through the napkins and straws, causing a small pile of them to spill out onto the bar. Great, thanks Amber. You hadn’t just refilled those or anything.

“He talks about you, you know” she told you softly as she looked down at an errant straw, perfectly manicured fingers wrapping around it.

You nearly spluttered laughing in shock. “Me?” you asked her.

Never in a million years did you expect her to say that.

“Mmm…” she purred as she put the straw in her mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully. Ugh, she really was pretty.

“Like he says you’re good at your job and stuff. But also that you’re funny. And smart. And stuff like that”.

You tilted your head as you looked at her, the wind taken out of your sails from the sheer shock of what she was telling you.

“Huh…” you responded as you try to downplay your sudden interest. “Well…that’s nice of him, I guess”.

“Ya…” she nodded.

“Amber…?” you asked.

She looked up at you and smiled.

“Is he really called James?”

She giggled. “Ya. He’s like...James Buchanan. Buchanan is his middle name. So, they all call him Bucky. He only lets certain people call him James. Special privileges”.

“I see,” you nodded. “Like you, huh?”

She sighed, pouting sadly. “Mmm…but…I dunno how ‘special’ I really am these days”.

Before you could ask what she meant, she changed the subject suddenly.

“Saw you talking to that guy from the plant. He was cute”. She grinned at you.

You found yourself laughing at the sudden tone shift and the excited glee on her face. Maybe she wasn’t so bad.

“Yeah…he is,” you nodded. “I haven’t really been on the dating scene for a while though. Not sure if I remember how…”

You weren’t sure why you told her that…

She just giggled. “Oh…shut up. Look at you. You’re a total hottie. You’ll be great”.

You felt your cheeks flush, but before you could say anything else she stood up from the bar stool and called out across the bar.

“Saaaammy. I need a ride!”

“I got you, baby girl!” he called back.

She grinned at you as she sauntered off. “Well…good luck with cute guy”.

You watched her go, slightly shell shocked by the whole exchange.

Huh. That was…a lot.

*

Steve told you he’d lock up so after cleaning up and cashing out, you bid Tom and the MC farewell and headed out to the parking lot. You hadn’t seen Bucky…James…since his dramatic exit. But you couldn’t help but mull over what Amber had told you. What did she mean, ‘he talks about you’? What does he say exactly? How does he say it? What did she mean when she said she didn’t feel special these days? Did she know about your kiss?

And Bucky was clearly jealous of Peter, right? He wasn’t subtle about it. But he had ignored you all evening until that happened. Maybe it was just territorial bullshit rather than anything deeper.

Speaking of Peter…why were you even thinking about Bucky? You now had this sweet, funny guy on the cards who was upfront about his interest in you…unlike Bucky.

…So why couldn’t you just focus on him?

You sighed. You shouldn’t be getting involved with any man right now. It all had an expiration date anyway. You were here to sort the house and that was that. Granny would tease you for allowing yourself to get distracted, just like always.

As you approached your car, you nearly jumped out of your skin as you realised there was a dark figure leaning against the bonnet.

“Bucky! Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” you scolded as you placed a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me”.

He stopped leaning, standing back up to his full height.

“We need to talk, Sugar” he said bluntly.

[liivzen]

Cowboy!Gojoxfem!reader

warnings: pinv, fingering, Softdom!gojo, small mention of body hair, no curses au, slight angst??, pet names used a lot throughout (went a lil overboard my bad) i’m probably missing a lot so lmk if i did :)

wc: 5.1k

story info: reader works at a saloon in small town thats in the middle of nowhere and has a run in with a few people on her way home and a certain cowboy comes to her rescue

MDNI under the cut!!

You picked up the last few glasses that were left on the tables in the bar. You walked over behind the counter and started to clean them and put them back into the cabinets. Once you finished, you walked over and wiped down the counters and table. Letting out a yawn, you quickly grab your things and head to the door to lock up. After the long shift of constantly being catcalled in the saloon all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and enter your world of dreams. Shaking away the fatigue to keep yourself awake for the walk up, you lock up the door.

You turn around and start towards your apartment. It’s not that late, but with it being winter time it was already pitch black outside. The cool wind makes you shiver slightly, making you cross your arms to keep warm. Due to working at the Saloon you only wore so much fabric,the front of your skirt ending at your knees with the back dropping to the ground. The corset you wore brought warmth to your midsection but that was it. Your sleeves barely covered anything, if you could even call them sleeves. Thankfully your boss had let you wear elbow length gloves since it was winter but they didn’t help much.

Walking as briskly as possible, you continue down the street. Due to the cool weather and darkness, there was almost no one on the streets. This made the town seem like a ghost town, compared to the usually bustling town. This did your journey home even less exciting. Trying to cut the venture home, you decided to take a shortcut . In hindsight it probably wasn’t a good idea but the only thing on your mind was the warm comfy bed waiting for you in your room.

As soon as you turned down the side ally you immediately got a gross feeling. It may have looked like a normal ally during daylight, but right now it was a much more nerve racking. A few more steps in and you could see someone slouched leaning against the brick wall of one of the buildings encasing the ally. Thanks to the lack of lighting you couldn’t make out much details of the man. The only thing you could notice was a long dark jacket that reached his half calf high boots and long silver hair descending down from the black cowboy hat he was wearing.

Not wanting to take the short cut anymore, you turn around to make an escape from the ally. However, before you could take a step, you ran straight into a hard body. Looking up, a tall man is glancing down at you with a smile on his face. The man has long dark black hair, and a scar running across the middle of his forehead. He grabs onto the sides of your arms to stop you from falling backwards.

“Well what do we have here?” The stranger in front of you speaks.

You could hear footsteps behind you now, walking towards the direction of you and the stranger. You tense up in the strangers arms once you hear the footsteps stop right behind you.

“It looks like we’ve got a mouse of some sorts Suguru.” A new voice speaks, only inches from your back. You try and struggle out of the mans, Suguru you’re assuming, grasp. His grip however was very strong and you barely moved against his unrelenting hands. This made you even more scared, your heartbeat throbbing against your chest. You glanced behind yourself to get a good look at the man behind you. His silver hair went down to his mid chest and he also had scars running across his face. He had a wide grin going ear to ear and a look in his eyes that was very off putting and didn’t make you any less afraid of these two.

“What do you want?” You breathlessly say, trying your best to sound confident with your words. The two men chuckle at your question and smile at each other.

“Oh nothing, just wondering what a little lady like you was doing all by herself at night.” The one in front of you says, bending his head down so his face is parallel to yours. You try moving your face back but end up hitting the man behind you in the chest. You feel the man behind you grab onto your waist and give a not so gentle squeeze. You try again to break free of the two men but once again it doesn’t work.

You could feel tears welling up into your eyes, realizing there was very little chance of you getting out of this situation. You should’ve known better, being a woman walking around in the outfit you’re in all alone at night. The tears quickly escape your eyes and your hopes of being confident and unafraid of them have washed away. Sugurus hands slide off of your arms but grab onto your chin to make you look at him.

“Aw, the little mouse is crying Mahito.” He says, looking up at the man behind you, who now you knows name is Mahito. Mahito chuckles and starts to slide his hands up towards your breast. However before he can, the three of you hear a new voice.

“Now why do I always come across you messing innocent people Suguru.” The three of you look towards the voice that came from the end of the ally way.

The man standing there was very tall. You couldn’t see his eyes from this far away since they were blocked by his hat. He was also wearing a long jacket that reached the floor, but it was open, letting you see his white shirt he was wearing under a black vest. From this far away you could see the holsters he was adorning though. He had his hand resting on his belt loops at the front of his pants.

Suguru and Mahito loosened their grips on you but didn’t let go completely. They turned themselves around to face this new man that, at the moment, was your saving grace.

“Well where’s the fun if I don’t Satoru.” Suguru responds, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You can see the tall man at the end of ally, Satoru, shake his head and start walking towards you three slowly. You could hear the clicks of his spurs as he started to walk, making him seem very intimidating. As he got closer you could see the man a little better now. He had bright white hair sticking out of his hat the framed his face perfectly. The brim of his hat didn’t obstruct a majority of his face anymore, however a pair of round sunglasses still hid his eyes even though it was nighttime. He had a small smile that looked to be more mischievous than anything. His long fingers traced the handle of his gun that was resting at his hip, ready for use at any moment. Before he gets too close though, he stops a various feet away from you three.

Satoru looks over his sunglasses to look at you now. He could see how scared you were in this moment, the tears rolling down your cheeks and the way your breathing is very heavy. Looking away from you, he looks towards the two men that currently have hands on you.

“Why don’t we let the lady back on her way home and move on our ways hm?” Satoru questions the two men, his grip tightening on the handle of his gun. Suguru decides to let go and head towards the Satoru, leaving you in Mahitos grabby hands. You squirm as much as you can before his grasp around your arms is lock tight. Suguru meets Satoru in the middle of the ally, only a few feet distancing the two.

You could feel the tension radiating from the two, clearly having known each other and things were not well between them. You can see Sugurus hand also fall onto the handle of his gun once he stops in front of Satoru.

“I don’t think I want to Satoru.” Suguru whispered to him but loud enough for you and Mahito to hear.

Before anymore words are shared, hell breaks loose.

Satoru draws his revolver out of his holster and shoots at the wall by you and Mahito, making Mahito drop his grasp on you and dodge away. With this new freedom, you bolt as fast as you can trying not to get caught in gunfire. You hide yourself behind an array of boxes that had been sitting next to one of the buildings.

Peaking your head above the boxes, you could see the battle between the three men clearly. You could see an array of fist and shooting going on. All of them looked very skilled, but Satoru looked to be pulling through better than the other two men.

Before you could speak too soon though, a solid punch made its way across Satorus face, knocking him a little unstable. You were worried for a second, but clearly that moment did bother Satoru. Showing little to no issue, Satoru eventually got the two men on there knees on the ground, two guns pointing at both of them, their hands up in surrender. Next thing you know, Satoru is calling out to you.

“Hey sweatheart, you wanna do me a favor and tie up these fellas here?” Satoru asks you sweetly over his shoulder. Dusting your skirts off, you quickly stand up and make your way over to him.

“Theres some rope and a knife on my belt honey, just move the jacket out the way.” He tells you, guns still trained on Suguru and Mahito. Moving around and ducking under Satorus gun raised arms and stopping in front of him.

Moving His jacket away from around his waist, you see the rope tied around the side of his belt along with the knife in a sleeve of its own. Untying the rope from the brown leather, you grab it and stand in front of it him waiting for instructions. Satoru looks down at you and smiles.

“Thank you darling. Now, can you please tie their wrist together pretty please?” He asks you sweetly. Nodding your head, still too nervous to say anything, you duck back under Satorus arm and go behind Mahito first. You grab his wrist that were in the hair and place them behind his back. You hold the knife against the rope and carefully cut it and tighten as tight as possible.

“Damn pretty, loosen up a little won’tcha” Mahito smirks at you over his shoulder. Not wanting to hear his shit, you tighten the rope even tighter. You look up at Satoru and he’s chuckling down at you. You give a small smile back at him and move Suguru. You also grab onto his hands and start to tie his wrist as well.

“You know one day I’m going to get back at you for all of this Satoru.” Suguru tells Satoru as you finish up tying the rope around his wrist. Satoru chuckles and lowers his guns once you’re finished and stand up, dusting off your skirts.

“Yeah we’ll see about that.” Satoru replies back to him, holstering his two guns. Ignoring the other two men, Satoru makes his way to you. Once in front of you he grabs onto your side.

“You alright darling?” He asks you, caressing the side of your corset’d waist.

“Yes, thank you very much sir.” You replied back to him. He lets out a breathy laugh, removing his coat and placing it around your shoulders. You. could now see his long sleeve shirt with the black vest clearly now. Along with a chain that hung on his neck and disappears below his collar. Before you could stare too much though, you focus back on his face.

“No need for the formalities miss, the names Satoru.” He tells you, making the jacket is secure around your shoulders before letting go of it.

“Oh ok, well thank you Satoru.” You tell him, pulling the jacket close around you. You could feel the warmth left from Satoru on the jacket still, along with the smell of smoke and sweat. Before you could put much thought into the jacket though, Satoru was speaking down at you again.

“Why don’t we get you home now, that sound good?” Satoru asks with a tilt of his had.

“I’d like that please.”

—————————————

Reaching the top of the stairs and stopping at the door to your apartment, you stop and turn around to face Satoru.

“Um, thank you for everything.” You try and tell him, your voice quiet. Satoru has thumbs resting in his front belt loops looking down at you.

“It’s no problem little lady, couldn’t leave someone as beautiful as you so helpless out there.” He smirks down at you. You could feel your face heat up from the compliment.

“Well, goodnight Satoru.” You tell the tall gorgeous man.

“Goodnight miss.” He responds to you, turning away to start heading down the stairs. Before you could rationally think about the words that had left your mouth, you spoke out after him.

“Um, would want to come inside for a drink? I can’t let my saviour leave without a reward of some kind.” You speak out to the white haired man. He slowly turns around and walks back to you.

“I’d love that sweatheart.” He tells you, waiting for you to open the door.

You turn around and unlock your door, pushing it open to let the two of you inside. Satoru took in your place the moment his feet pass the threshold of the door.

Your apartment wasn’t filled with much. You had a small kitchen, just enough to cook yourself basic meals. You had a small table that barely was big enough to fit a plate and utensils for when you did eat, a small wooden chair accompany it. Across the room you have your bed pushed against the wall, that also looks to fit just you and your pillow and blanket. One last little piece was the small chair and bookshelf in the corner that held a few books and a small candelabrum that had a half melted candle on it.

“I know theres not much space, you can sit at the table if you’d like, while i prepare you a drink.” You tell Satoru, motioning towards your small dining table. He gives a little nod and walks himself to the table, scooting the chair out and sitting down. You move over to the cabinets, grabbing a glass and some old whiskey you had for special occasions. You sat the glass in front of Satoru at the table and poured the whiskey in. Satoru still said nothing, quietly watching you pour him the drink. Once you finished, you put the whiskey back in the cabinet and stood next the table watching Satoru. The two of you stared at each other before you looked away, breaking the eye contact, This caused Satoru to chuckle a little before grabbing the glass and taste a bit of the whiskey but not drinking the whole thing.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me miss.” Satoru says faintly, looking at the side of your face since you still couldn’t make eye contact with him. This made you a little aprhensive, but you weren’t scared of him though, so you told him that.

“I wouldn’t have invited you in if i was scared.” You quip back at him softly. This made Satoru chuckle, taking another sip of the whiskey.

“Oh ok, sweetheart. Well I would hate to leave you standing in your own home.” He says, grabbing onto your wrist and rubbing his thumb over your pulse-point. You’re sure he can feel how fast your pulse is and guessing by the way you gasp when he pulls you closer to him, it gets even faster.

“But theres no other places to sit.” You whisper down at him. Due to his height he was still pretty tall even sitting, but you towered over him slightly. He smirks up at you, knowing what he was about to do would surely make your question dwindle within seconds. And oh was he right.

Next thing you know you’re being pulled into his lap. You have no choice but to straddle his thighs, causing your skirt to bunch up around your waist. You could now feel the rough material of his jeans agaisnt your thighs. Your face was heating up immediatly, quickly feeling how hot the air around the two of you was turning even if it was the dead of winter. Satoru was now the one looking down at you in his lap, his arms now locked around your waist holding you to himself. The two of your faces were mere inches from each other now, you could slightly smell the whiskey coming off of Satorus breath once he started speaking.

“As much as I would love to drink this rest of this whiskey as a thanks from you, I think I have a better way of getting a thanks from a gorgeous lady like you.”

“What-“

Before you could even finish lips were crashing into you. You were shocked at first but within second you were melting into the kiss. You could feel Satoru squeeze your body even closer to him the as soon as you started kissing him back. You felt the swipe of a tongue asking for entrance into your mouth. You felt Satoru move a hand down to your ass and squeeze, causing you to gasp and let his tongue into your mouth. This had you melting into him even more, your arms were wrapped around his neck trying to get even closer to him as his tongue roamed the roof your mouth.

You could feel yourself start to roll your hips against his, feeling the hardness that was starting to form against you. Satorus kisses start to move away from your lips and down the side of your neck, his hand starting to roam now. One hand was still squeezing every few seconds, but the other graviated towards you breast. Giving a small squeeze you let out a breathy moan into the air. You feel Satoru smirk against the skin on your neck.

Without much warning though, Satoru stood, picking you up and walking.

This shocked you and you quickly wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms squeezed tighter around his neck. You look to where he was taking the two of you. You noticed that he was walking in the direction of your bed and before you know it, you’re flopping against the old mattress. Satoru stood over your flusterd self, taking in your beauty. After a moment of silence and gazing you speak to him.

“I-I haven’t been bedded before.” You stutter up at the gorgeous man at the foot of your bed. He takes off his hat and sunglasses that he was still wearing, setting them on edge of the bed and leaned down over you.

“That doesn’t matter at all sweetheart, you tell me at any point you want to stop. You decide how far we go, ok?” He whispers to you, fanning stray hairs out of your face. Not able to form anymore words you nod at him biting your lip. Taking notice of your lips again, Satoru captures you in another kiss.

This time it’s a little slower, but still passionate. You felt him run his hands down your sides before reaching behind you. He started to tug at the string of your corset. Once it was loose enough, Satoru broke the kiss and removed the corset all together. As soon as the corset was off he was back to kissing you, this time down the side of your neck towards the peak of your breast. You could feel him start to leave marks from the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin. This had you moaning out and grabbing onto his hair, tugging slightly.

Satorus hand dropped down to the top of your knees, where your dress stopped. You felt him grab the fabric and start bunching it up. Once it was past your waist you could tell he was wanting it off completely. Sitting up slightly you raised your arms to get rid of the dress. The moment the dress was off you wrapped your arms around your now exposed breast. Now you were almost completely nude save for your underwear, whereas Satoru was still his shirt and jeans. Feeling you starting to get nervous, he grabbed onto your face.

“Theres nothing to be worried about sweetheart, I’ve got you.” He spoke softy kissing the top of your forehead.

To make you feel better, Satoru started to lose some of his own clothes. You watched as he unbuttoned his shirt to reveal his perfect looking chest. You could’ve guessed he was fit under those layers but you didn’t expect him to look like some greek god. Once shirt fully unbuttoned, he removed it completely, tossing it somewhere in the room. You did have much time to look though because then he was gently pushing you back down on the bed.

Satoru moved your hands and put then above your head, continuing his kisses on the top of your breast. It only took him seconds to get to one of your nipples. He started to gently suck on it, nipping at it every couple of licks. Moving both of your wrist into one of his hands, the other hand started to grope at your other breast, pinching at your other nipple.

This made you throw your head back and arch your back, pressing your chest even more into Satorus face and hand. He could tell you were enjoying it and started to get a little more harder with his pinching and sucking. This had you moaning even louder, and the throbbing between your legs almost painful.

Not wanting to spend too long on your chest, Satoru start to move down. His kisses reach your stomach and eventually down at the top of your underwear. He had moved his hands as well, now grabbing around the sides of your thighs, spreading them. This motion had you coming to your senses a little, causing you clench your legs together.

“It’s alright sweetheart, just wanna see you fully.” Satoru whispers up to giving a small kiss on your left thigh. Trusting him, you open up your legs to him.

Slowly reaching up to the waistband of your underwear, he slowly pulls them down your legs, exposing your cunt to the cold air. You bit your lip and looked away, embarresed that Satoru might be disgusted at what he was seeing now. You knew that hair was normal but it was slowly starting to become a trend to not have any, or have very little. But with your schedule of working you didn’t have time to worry about that. Now though, you did worry about it.

Satoru could tell you were anxious about how he would react to your now exposed cunt, but he didn’t want you to be nervous, he wanted you to feel relaxed.

Without saying anything, he took his fingers and started to rub up along your lips. This made you look down at him, wondering why he wasn’t saying and just staring at your exposed cunt. However, before you could think anything else, his fingers moved up slightly and rub small circles. This makes you twitch a little and spread your legs a little more.

“There we go sweetheart.” Satoru smiled up at you, noticing the pleasure that you’re starting to feel. He continued to rub the small circles on your clit but now taking his other hand spredding you lips apart. Satoru gathered up the slick that was starting to drip down from your hole, rubbing around it almost teasingly. This made you whine a little and move your hips towards his fingers. He chuckled but listened to your whines.

He slowly dipped an index finger of his left hand into your waiting hole. He could feel you squeezing immediately, pulsing around his finger. He looked up at you finally, seeing your face contort in pleasure. The moans you were letting out sounded angelic to him, urging him to do more. And so he did.

He sped up his circles on your clits and added a second finger in your cunt, thrusting in and out. Reaching his head forward, he started to give gentle kisses along the crease of your thigh and pelvis, nipping at it slightly. He could feel you squeezing on his fingers, he even felt you move your hips to match his thrusts.

Satoru could tell you were reaching your climax quickly, so he sped up his thrust. It didn’t take much longer after that for you through your head back against your pillow and let out a loud moan that you’re sure even your neighbors could hear. After a few moments and gasp later, you lift your head up and peer down at Satoru between your legs. And oh is the sight before you something that makes you clench around nothing now.

Satoru is lying there looking up at you with his fingers in his mouth, licking off your cum. He has a smirk that adorns his face that makes him look even more handsome that you could think of. This all had your face heating up and looking away from him. Satoru pushes himself up and gets to his knees between your legs. You watch as he starts to undo the buckle on his pants and bring it out the loops. He tosses the belt elsewhere, just like his shirt, and starts to unbutton his jeans.

You could see how hard he was below his jeans but nothing could’ve prepared you for when he pushes his jeans below his cock. You now had a clear view of his cock, as it was standing there clear as day. His cock was not too long but definitely something to make you gulp. It also has girth to it that made you wonder if you could even fit your hand around it. Satoru could feel you get more nervous as you stared at his cock silently.

“It’s alright pretty, we’ll go as slow as needed.” Satoru reasures you, climbing back over you.

He leans over you putting a hand next to your head, his face now parallel to yours. You look up at him as he locks eyes with you. With his other hand he grabs his cock and aligns himself at your entrance. The second he starts to push himself in you gasp at the feeling of him entering you. Its not necesarily painful but you can feel it stretching you out by a lot. This has you gasping up him, looking into his eyes. Satoru brushes the hair out your face, and kisses down your forehead.

“Its ok, it’ll feel good in a second. I promise sweetheart. Just tell me when to move.” He tells you once he’s fully pushed inside of you.

You sit there for a moment, trying your best to get used to Satorus size. After a minute you tell him he can move and he does. The first few thrust are still a little uncomfortable but then its starts to turn to pleasure. You let out moans once Satoru starts to suck on your neck again. You grab around Satoru neck and grab onto the bottom of his scalp, pulling at the hair there. This makes Satoru let out his own moan into your neck. His thrust getting a little deeper.

Satoru drags a hand down the middle of your body to rub at your clit again. You let out a louder moan at the feeling of his touch. The two of you are letting out your fair shares of moans and you’re sure you’ll be hearing complaints from your neighbors, but right now you don’t really care. Satorus thrust start to get a little faster, and you squeeze around him even harder.

Satoru could tell you were getting close by the way your breath was getting faster and the way you were squeezing him. He could tell he was getting close to his own climax as well. He pulled away from your neck and bent down to your chest, putting a nipple in his mouth. You through your head back at this.

“Ah-Satoru please.” You moan out his name, gripping harder at his hair. This makes him groan into your chest, thrust speeding up even more. He pulls away from your chest and kisses you hard. The two of you moan into each others mouths. After a second, Satoru pulls away just enough to speak.

“Please what sweetheart?” He ask you, thrusting hard into you. You moan out, almost unable to say anything but after a second you get out the few words you want to say.

“I wanna come please.” You tell him breathlessly, looking into his eyes with blurry vision. He smiles down at you holding your face in his hands.

“Don’t have to tell me twice pretty.” He mumbles to you before kissing you hard again.

It doesn’t take much more for you to get what you want. Satorus rubbing at your clit and giving you hard and fast thrust and within minutes your cumming all over his cock. Satorus not far behind you either, pulling out of you quickly and giving himself a few tugs and letting himself go all over your stomach. Once he’s done he’s collapsing next to you on the bed in the limited space given. The two of you catch your breath before any words are spoken. Satorus the first to speak.

“You did a good job sweetheart.” Satoru is mumbling into your shoulder, bringing you closer to him, tucking you against his chest. You let yourself lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat for a second.

“Mm, thank you.” You tell him after a minute. Satoru chuckles at your tired response, kissing the top of your head. With the little energy that was left, Satoru tucked the two of you under the covers of your bed, taking the same position that you two were just in. The two of you lay there listenting to each other breathe, enjoying the quiet. It wasn’t long before you could feel yourself dozing off.

Before you could fully fall asleep though you heard a few faint words.

“Get some sleep pretty, you deserve it.” Satoru mumbles into your hair, slowly following you into the much needed sleep.

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an - omgggggg this took two weeks to do write up (thanks to classes being an overload). This is the longest piece i’ve ever written so i hope you all love i! Depending on how this is received i miiiight do a part two, we’ll just have to see :))

thank you very much to my friend who decided to edit this with me, i would’ve posted this way more shittier if i didn’t have my friend (tbh its still probably a bit shitty) so thank you and ilysm.

[magical-reid]

Caught in the Spotlight

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

The meeting room at Quantico was buzzing with energy when your unit arrived. You’d been in the middle of wrapping up another case in Virginia when the call came—your specialized undercover team was being reassigned to assist the BAU on a particularly troubling case. There wasn’t much time for pleasantries before you were seated alongside the Behavioral Analysis Unit, their unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, standing at the head of the room with a case file in hand.

“This unsub has been active for the past three months,” Hotch began, flipping through the slides on the screen. “Three women have been abducted and killed, all matching the same general type: y/h/c, mid-twenties, lean build. All were last seen at the Coyote Den, a bar in Atlanta known for its high-energy performances.”

You exchanged a glance with your unit chief, Rachel Torres, noting the way she was already sizing up the details. The BAU was known for their profiles, but your team brought a different set of skills to the table—stealth, adaptability, and the ability to blend in without a trace.

“We believe the unsub is targeting women he considers perfect performers,” Dr. Spencer Reid interjected, his voice soft yet commanding attention. He gestured to a series of images on the screen: all three victims dressed in tight, eye-catching clothing, caught mid-laughter or dancing in the bar. “He appears to be watching them for several nights before striking. He’s a meticulous planner, but he also has a tendency to escalate once he selects his victim.”

Morgan leaned forward in his chair, addressing your unit. “We need someone to go undercover as a bartender. Someone who fits his type.”

Torres nodded slowly, her gaze sweeping across her team before landing on you. “Looks like we’ve got the perfect candidate.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Wait, me?” You sat up straighter, your voice coming out more defensive than you intended. “I don’t know if I’m the best choice. I usually work undercover as… someone else. Wigs, makeup, costumes. Not just… me.”

Hotch’s expression softened, but only slightly. “You match the unsub’s type almost exactly, Agent Y/L/N. It’s the fastest way to gain his attention without raising suspicion.”

Torres placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’ve gone undercover a dozen times before. You’re the best at what you do.”

You hesitated, looking toward the photos of the victims again. Your usual roles involved creating characters—adopting new personalities, new looks. This was different. This was you, stripped of the usual disguises, exposed in a way that felt raw and unfamiliar.

“I’ll do it,” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “But I’m going to need backup.”

“That’s where we come in,” Morgan said with a confident grin, gesturing to himself and Spencer. “We’ll be at the bar, blending in like regulars. Pretty boy here’s a pro at pretending to drink beer.”

Spencer shot him a glare, and a small, nervous laugh escaped your lips, breaking some of the tension.

Hotch handed you the case file. “We’ll keep you as safe as possible, Agent Y/L/N. But we need you to be convincing. If the unsub approaches you, it’s critical that you keep him engaged long enough for us to make a move.”

You nodded, gripping the file tightly. “Understood.”

The next day, the transformation began. The BAU arranged for you to slip into the bartender role seamlessly, arriving at the Coyote Den as the “new girl.” But first came the part you dreaded most—the wardrobe.

“Alright, Y/L/N, here’s your uniform,” Torres said, handing you a bag with a smirk.

You opened it and froze. Black leather shorts, a cropped tank top with the bar’s logo stretched across the chest, and knee-high boots with just enough heel to ensure discomfort.

“Oh, no,” you muttered, holding up the pieces like they might burn you.

Morgan’s laugh echoed across the room. “Looks like you’re about to make some serious tips.”

You shot him a glare before turning to Spencer, who had been unusually quiet. His eyes were glued to the floor, and he seemed to be making a concerted effort not to look at you or the outfit.

“I’ll survive,” you said eventually, trying to inject some humor into your tone. “It’s just clothes, right?”

The Coyote Den was alive with pulsing music and neon lights, its atmosphere thick with the scent of cheap whiskey, sweat, and the faintest hint of desperation. It was obvious that the bar was the type of place that thrived on chaos and spectacle, which made it the perfect hunting ground for the unsub who had already taken three lives.

The bar staff greeted you with a mix of curiosity and enthusiasm, quickly showing you the ropes and handing you a tray of cocktail glasses to start. The revealing outfit clung to your skin, a constant reminder of how exposed you were, but you kept your focus on the mission.

“Looking good,” Morgan teased as you slid a beer across the counter to him.

“Shut up,” you muttered, shooting him a look before turning to Spencer, who was nursing what looked like a whiskey neat.

“Are you doing okay?” Spencer asked quietly, his brow furrowed in concern.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. It’s just… not what I’m used to.”

“You’re doing great,” he assured you, his voice carrying a genuine warmth that helped ease some of your nerves.

The night passed in a blur of drink orders and rowdy patrons. When one of the bartenders called out that it was your turn to perform, your stomach dropped.

“Let’s see what you’ve got new girl!”

You froze for a second, your heart pounding as your coworkers and the patrons cheered, urging you to get going.

“You’ll be great,” Morgan said with a confident smirk, tilting his beer towards you, “We’ve got your back, alright? Pretty boy here and I am going to blend right in as your ‘regulars.’”

“Because nothing says regular like the two of you,” you muttered with a small, forced smile as you climb up on the bar. The heat of the spotlight was overwhelming, and for a moment, you regretted agreeing to this entire mission.

Your heart was loud in your ears as the crowd erupted into cheers. Your boots clicked against the wood as your balanced yourself. The music shifted, and you moved to the rhythm, your movements initially stiff as it wasn’t easy when you felt so exposed, but you did it anyway, twisting and swaying under the lights, loosening up with each beat. You tossed your hair and smiled, doing your best to embody the carefree energy expected of you. The crowd ate it up, cheering louder with every turn of your hips and toss of your hair.

When your eyes found Spencer in the crowd, your heart skipped. He was watching you with wide eyes, his hand frozen around his glass, his expression unreadable.

After your performance, you stepped away from the bar, claiming you needed the bathroom. The moment you entered the dimly lit hallway, you felt a presence behind you.

It was him.

The unsub’s hand was like a vice around your wrist, yanking you further into the hallway as you struggled against him. He muttered something about you being “perfect,” but the words were a blur of terror and adrenaline.

You twisted, kicked, and managed to bite his hand, earning a shout of pain that gave you just enough time to scream before he covered your mouth.

Spencer was the first to notice you’d been gone too long.

“She’s not back yet,” he said, his voice sharp with worry.

Morgan was already on his feet, scanning the bar. “Let’s move.”

Spencer’s mind worked quickly, his eyes darting around until he spotted the trail of clues: a scuff mark near the back hallway, the faintest hint of red smeared on the wall, and a door slightly ajar. He motioned for Morgan to follow, fully pushing open the door and finding the alley just in time to see the unsub dragging you toward a car.

“FBI! Let her go!” Spencer shouted, his gun drawn.

The unsub froze, giving you the opportunity to elbow him hard in the stomach. You stumbled away, running straight into Spencer’s arms as Morgan tackled the unsub to the ground.

Hours later, after the unsub was in custody and the adrenaline had faded, the two units gathered at a quieter bar to celebrate the successful operation.

“Come on, Y/N,” Torres urged, nudging you toward the makeshift stage. “One more performance for the road.”

“No way,” you said, laughing nervously.

“Oh, come one, do it for us!” Morgan added, grinning. “You’ve already got the outfit. And I think genius over here wouldn’t mind seeing an encore.” He nodded toward Spencer, whose face turned bright red.

You hesitated for a moment, then stood, the playful glint in your eyes returning. “Fine. But only because I feel like showing someone what they missed the first time.”

The music started, and as you moved to the beat, your eyes found Spencer’s. This time, your performance was deliberate—a wink here, a playful smirk there, each move designed to fluster him. By the time you finished, Spencer looked like he might combust.

When you finally sat down beside him, breathless but grinning, he cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze.

“You’re, uh…really good at that,” he managed, his voice soft.

“Thanks, genius.” You leaned closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “Maybe next time I’ll give you a private show.”

His eyes widened, and you laughed, feeling lighter than you had all day.