#hunter x hunter tickle fic

[nekoma-not-lee]

Tickletober Day 3 - Prank

Hunter x Hunter - ler!Gon, lee!Killua

Killua pranks Gon, chaos ensues!

This pairing is implied romantic, but can be seen as platonic!

Killua was currently fleeing for his life from Gon. All because he just had to prank him! They were on either side of the couch, locked in position. If Killua moved one way, Gon would just intercept him. Killua nervously smiled, “C-C’mon Gon, it was just a prank, can’t we talk about this?” Gon looked back at him with a mischievous smile, all soaking wet from the earlier prank, “Sure we can talk, but after I get revenge.” Gon suddenly launched himself over the couch, tackling Killua to the floor.

They wrestled for a bit before Gon ended up on top…but by underhanded means is what Killua would say. Gon had used a hand to tickle under his arm which caused him to lose. “Are you sorry yet?” Killua shook his head and stuck his tongue out. Killua suddenly burst into laughter when Gon had used his hands to attack Killua’s sides. “Nohoho! Gohohon, thahahat’s nohohot fahahair!” Gon snickered, “You deserve this for dumping that bucket of cold water on my head!”

“IHIHIT WAHAS OHOHONLY HAHALF AHA BUHUHUCKEHET!” Killua shrieked out, as Gon switched to his hips, which were significantly worse than his sides. “GOHOHON THAHAHAT’S SOHOHO MEHEHEAN!” Gon’s fingers pinched lightly at Killua’s hips, “Well dumping that bucket of cold water on my head was pretty mean too, I think this is being nicer than that!” Killua shook his head from side to side, “IHIHIT’S NOHOHOHOT! IHIHIT’S SOHOHO MUHUCH WOHOHORSE!”

Gon chuckled, “Do you regret your actions yet?” He said this while slowing his fingers down to tracing. Killua simply breathed for a few seconds and then shook his head, defiantly, “It’s gonna take a lot more thahahan THAHAHAT WAHAHAIT NOHOHOHO!” Killua shrieked as his hips were the target once more. Gon shook his head, “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” Killua’s shrieks of laughter were loud and boisterous, but also incredibly cute and endearing.

Killua finally tapped Gon’s hand with his hand, “OHOHOKAHAHAY! IHIHI GIHIHIVE! IHIHIHI’M SOHOHORRY!” Gon stopped instantly, seeing as Killua had reached his limit. Killua breathed, “But…” Gon tilted his head in confusion. “…I stihill regret nothing,” Killua finished, breathy giggles still escaping. Gon laughed, “Your luhucky I’m feeling nihice today! Or else you’d be back at my mercy for that.”

[someone1348]

My first Hunter X Hunter Fic! I'm so excited!

This show/anime means so much to me, It's my favorite! I've re-watched it so many times lmao! Anyway!

I'm so happy to be sharing this with you all and of course we have to start with my favorite angels 😇

The people in this: Ler!Killua, Lee!Gon

Tw: none this is adorable! (This is a tickle fic so if you are uncomfortable with that I don't suggest reading! :])

I hope you all enjoyyy!!

-K <3

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A Bad Case of Boredom

It's been about two weeks since Gon and Killua arrived back to Whale Island, the place where Gon grew up with his wonderful aunt Mito and grandmother. Things were going great! Killua adjusted to the new environment nicely and rather quickly too! Aunt Mito was very welcoming, and he really enjoyed staying with them.

They had been exploring and mainly spent their time outside, but today was the kind of day that Gon dreaded the most. It was pouring rain outside. Gon loved the rain, yes, it did great things for the grass and the wildlife. However, he hated being forced to stay inside because of it. He was used to nature, running around the open feilds, climbing trees and overall being free. The rain restricted all of that which brings us to the present.

Gon sighed as his legs bounced up and down on the floor as they hung over the side of his bed. Killua, who had been trying to meditate, looked over gently at the greenette with one eye open before he too sighed and turned to face him,

"What's wrong Gon?" He asked both concerned and curious

"The rain"

"The rain?" Killua cocked an eyebrow, now more confused than before

"We can't go outside, I love the benefits the rain gives for nature, but I hate being stuck inside with nowhere to go and nothing to do!" He complained as he flopped back onto his bed dramatically.

'Ah' Killua thought to himself before he slightly smiled "There's plenty to do inside Gon, for starters you could meditate with me and practice your ten"

That comment earned another sigh from the enhancer

"Alright fine, hmm" the white haired boy sat in thought as he tried to think of ways to entertain his best friend, a single raindrop hit the windowsill when it clicked in Killuas mind, his signature cat like smirk spread across his features as he sat up and hovered over Gon,

"I have the perfect idea~"

Gon shoot up in excitement as he looked at Killua with bright eyes

"Really?!"

Killua only smiled brighter as he nodded "Yep! It's your favorite" his voice got a little deeper towards the end of his sentence which made Gon gulp and giggle a little as he scooted backwards on his bed until he hit the headboard gently.

"Kihillua?"

Killua smirked again before he pounced onto his best friend. The two started a mini wrestling match, rolling around on the green covers, giggling their heads off before anything happened yet as they both tried to get the upper hand. Gon knew what Killua's intentions were, he sensed it in his aura and with knowing him that well, and with his boredom he was more excited than ever for this moment, but he was stubborn too and was not going down that easily.

"Give it up Gon!"

"Never!"

"Fair enough, you asked for it" Gon had the upper hand as they spoke, but Killua quickly swipped the tips of his fingers over Gon's side as Gon's arms wobbled out from under him and he fell onto Killuas chest. Killua smiled and, with one quick motion, turned Gon onto his back, holding his arms above his head with one hand as he sat over his hips.

"Someone wanted tickles huh Gon?~" he teased as Gon's cheeks flushed a quiet pink

"How did you figure it out?!"

"It was easy, one, I know you, and two, you would've never gone down that quickly otherwise~"

Gon looked away with a playful smile before they both giggled together.

"Are you ready Gon?~" he smirked as he wiggled his fingers just inches above Gon's stomach

"Kihihilluaaaaa!" Gon complained through his giggles as his legs bounced gently behind him, this time with joy

"Fihinneee Tickle Tickle Tickleee~" He smiled brightly as he let go of Gon's hands and darted them over to pinch and scribble all over his sides

"KIhihilluahaha! ThaHahat TihiHickles!" Gon squeaked and wiggled as much as he could but made no real effort to fight it

"That's the point idiot, plus your giggles are too cute, so what's the problem?~" He spoke so nonchalantly it made Gon question to himself what was worse, that or his tease voice

"NohoHo FaHaHair!" His laughter picked up the pace as Killua moved his fingers up to his ribs, making sure he got all of the in-between spots, leaving no spot untickled. Gon arched his back a little as he tried to lightly push at Killuas' hands.

"You know Gon, you got seriously injured back at Hevean's arena, I should make sure you still have all of your ribs" Killua dragged his fingers back down his ribs as Gon giggled out an excuse,

"NOhoHo! KihihilluaAhA! I heHealed! ReHehember?!"

"Hmm, I don't remember. A thorough checkup is in order, and since Leorio isn't here to do it, I guess it's up to me! Don't worry, Gon, this won't hurt a bit~" Killua smiled again as he skittered up and down the length of his ribs before starting from the bottom and going up slowly tracing each individual rib while he counted.

"Oneeee, Twoooooo, Threeeee, Foooourrr, Fivveee- hmm? What's this?~" Killua paused as he found a particularly ticklish rib on Gon's left side, where he got injured previously thanks to Geto,

"I think getting hit with that spinning top made this rib more ticklish then the others"

"WohAHAhAh!-" Gon snorted gently as he broke out into more genuine laughter as Killua scribbled and gently scratched over that rib alone "KiHIHIhilLUAHaHa!"

"Woah! You snorted! Haha do it again!"

"NOHoHo!"

"Fine, have it your way" Killua shrugged before his hands quickly made their way down to his stomach, going right under the light fabric of Gon's black tank top

"AHAHAHA KIHIHILLUAHAHAHA NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!"

"And why not?~ doesn't it tickle? I'm confused"

"YEHEHES! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES ALOHOHOT! THAHAT'S WHY!"

"That's a good thing gigglebug"

Gon's face turned bright red as the kicking got faster as he tried to curl up on himself but couldn't

"Ohhhh I think I get it now, this is your tickle spot!" Killua spoke as if this was completely new information, causing Gon to groan a little at his antics

"KIHIHILLUAHAHAHA!"

"Yes Gon?~"

"HAHAHAHA!" Gon threw his head back in genuine laughter which made Killua giggle a little before he took a deep breath and blew a gaint raspberry directly into his bellybutton

"AHAHA KIHIHILLUAHAHAHA IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES!"

"Okahay okay!" He gently got off of him and patted his arm "you okay, Gon?"

"Haha YEAH!" He tackled Killua in a hug "You're the best Killua!"

"You're so embarrassing" He scoffed as he smiled as he hugged him back.

_________________________________________

I had a blast making this! It's definitely different from what I've done before but I hope you all enjoyedd I loved writing it!

Have an amazing day, evening, or night everyone! You truly deserve it! You are loved, you are valid, you are appreciated, and I could not be more proud of you! /p /gen /pos

-K :]

[fourthavecafe]

could you please write for killua (we’re basically gon ya know killua and reader are besties) and killua is teasing us about how we’re so physically weak for being ticklish 

killua using his assassin techniques for something much cuter

────୨ৎ────

You and Killua were casually hanging out, somehow getting into a conversation about human weaknesses. Killua, leaning back on the couch, casually dropped facts about body pressure points and pain tolerance, his eyes flickering with that usual mix of disinterest and hidden knowledge.

“Y’know, there are about 108 human weak points. The ribs, for example… I could practically disable someone with just a poke.”

You smirked, trying to appear brave. “I could handle it.”

Killua raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh really?” His voice had that familiar teasing edge. “You? Handle it?”

Before you could take back your words, in a blur of motion, he was beside you, fingers poised. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

Suddenly, his finger poked at your upper ribs. But instead of feeling pain, a giggle escaped your lips. Killua blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait… what?”

You burst into more giggles, trying to scoot away, but he didn’t let up, his eyes narrowing as if you were some puzzle he was trying to solve. “Why are you laughing? I poked your weak spot. You’re supposed to be in pain.”

“It…tickles!” you managed to gasp between laughs.

Killua’s face shifted into one of utter confusion but there was a glint in his eyes now—he was intrigued. And if there was anything Killua liked, it was having the upper hand. “Ticklish? Seriously?”

Before you could reply, his fingers darted toward your sides again, this time prodding your ribs and underarms. A shriek of laughter erupted from you as you squirmed helplessly. “Killua, stop!” you pleaded, trying to catch your breath.

But he was grinning now, clearly enjoying himself. “Your biggest weakness is ticklishness? Wow, you’re more pathetic than I thought” he teased, though the playful tone softened the insult. “How are you supposed to handle anything if this is all it takes to bring you down?”

You were a wriggling mess at this point, and Killua didn’t relent. His fingers found your belly, then your bellybutton, sending you into another fit of uncontrollable giggles. “Right here too, huh?” he said, smirking. “You’re just full of weak spots.”

“St-stop!” you choked out, laughing so hard that tears pricked your eyes.

He finally eased up but hovered close, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “I’ve faced off against some dangerous people” he mused, crossing his arms and leaning back as if reflecting on your ticklish defeat. “But I’ve never seen anyone so weak to… this.”

You gave him a half-hearted glare, still catching your breath. “You’re such a jerk.”

He snickered, flicking your forehead lightly. “You’re the one who said you could handle it.” There was a pause, then softer, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it: “You’re lucky you’re kinda cute when you’re all flustered.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right. But before you could process, Killua was already back to his usual self, standing up and stretching like nothing had happened.

“Anyway, now that I know your weakness, I guess I’ve got some serious leverage over you” he said, flashing a wicked grin. “So you better watch out.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah… You’ll pay for this, Killua.”

He just gave you a nonchalant wave as he walked away, but there was that slight, rare hint of a smile still playing on his lips.

[always-just-red]

Super self-indulgent addition to the poly series for my birthday!!! (Works as a standalone fic!) If you see this today you have to reblog, as a gift to me! And this fandom 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ *gets struck by lightning for my hubris*

Breaking Point

L&DS Boys X Reader

(No Caleb yet! I'm not confident in writing him and I wanna make sure I do it right! He'll be joining this series later though, for sure for sure...)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 / ?

Summary: I can't spoil the plot because it's a surprise but just trust me, ok? Look into my eyes! Right here! 👁️👁️ You want to read this. You really do.

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, platonic-ish! poly, some flirting, swearing, all the guys come with health warnings in this because like I said, it's self-indulgent! (I'm giving me everything I want 😌)

| Word count: 4.5k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You only have one life, and it’s Sylus’s to take.

He’s stalled. Denied himself the pleasure of snuffing it out, like he was always supposed to. You thought it was sentiment: a fondness that saw him shoot you with nothing more deadly than a wink or a smile, not that those weren’t their own, trivial little murder attempts. Now, he wants something permanent. Something that’ll stick.

His gun is pressed into your back, but you can’t resent him for it. If your gun was at his back, you would have already pulled the trigger.

“It isn’t too late to stop this, Sylus,” you mutter quietly, because the sentiment is there— no matter how deep he’s buried it. You’ll show it to him, even with raw hands and dirt under your nails.

You try to turn but the gun presses harder, urging you forwards like every other time you’ve attempted to slow or reason with him. “All’s fair in love and war, sweetie,” he says with a smile in his voice, and you wonder which one it is: that slow, nostalgic one, or the one he saves for his enemies. All teeth. All sharp. “You understand, don’t you?”

This is all your fault.

The dark, narrow corridor you’re being paraded down is coming to an end. It opens up into a larger room with abstract furnishings: block-like pillars and walls, lined with spidery strips of neon lights. They glow a weak purple, some flickering eerily. It’s still dark, and there are shadows everywhere.

Sylus swings you under a faint spotlight in the centre of the space. “I know you’re there,” he announces to the darkness, one hand on your shoulder, possessive.

There’s no response from the void. Can he hear something? A baited breath, somewhere out in the shadows, or a heartbeat, tripping over itself on adrenaline? You can’t hear a thing; the silence is too thick. Perhaps he made a mistake. Perhaps—

“What do you want, Sylus?” a voice calls out from behind a pillar— Zayne. By the time you look over, he’s pressed himself back against cover, out of sight, out of range.

“Let’s talk about this, yeah?” Rafayel, from behind a low wall.

Sylus tugs you closer: wraps you in a heavy arm so his gun is in front of you, angled inwards at your heart. He’s always loved a dramatic irony, even if it’s private— just for the two of you. “A Deepspace Hunter for a Deepspace Hunter,” he bargains. “More than fair, wouldn’t you say?”                                                                      

“You don’t have to do this, Xavier!” you shout.

“Ah, ah,” Sylus tuts, his warm breath tickling your ear: “Don’t be a hero, sweetie.”

More silence follows, but you know your fate is being decided in the dark. Amethyst eyes are pleading with peridot. Fire is trying to thaw ice. You can imagine the artist gesturing wildly, mouthing arguments, and the doctor solemnly shaking his head— ever trying to solve an unsolvable problem.

None of it matters, because Xavier is already stepping into the light. Hands up in surrender, weapon stowed at his side. His face is a storm and the flickering neon betrays it like lightning. Look— it warns. Divine violence.

Sylus’s hand tenses, ever so slightly, on your shoulder. You look at Xavier. He looks back at you.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” he says softly, and you’re in the centre of the storm, where it’s safe and it’s quiet and nothing outside can reach you, let alone hurt you. It won’t last, but it exists. You’re glad it exists.

“It’s okay,” you speak on a whisper.

You know how this has to end. Sylus can’t see it. Rafayel and Zayne— both peeking their heads out of cover— can’t see it either, but you? Of course you do. It’s an instinct: Deepspace Hunter to Deepspace Hunter, like Sylus said. Two edges of the same sword.

When Xavier draws his gun at light speed and shoots you with it, you’re the only one not surprised.

“What?” Sylus gasps as red spills over you.

But Xavier doesn’t stop. An onslaught: he fires relentlessly, aim not letting up for a second. His gun flashes over and over again and the sound is harsh on your ears as he closes in, indifferent.

“Sorry, sweetie,” you hear Sylus murmur, and then you’re shoved forwards— limp and useless— into the arms of your attacker.

Xavier catches you, his gun finally falling silent. The air had gone thick for a moment. Time had slowed. Space had twisted. A few, glistening crow feathers waltz around you, and you glance down at your vest. The lights on it have stayed red.

That was your last, stupid life. The digital counter on your gun is stuck at: ‘000’.

“Thanks,” you say to Xavier anyway, because you wouldn’t have struck the floor quite so gracefully as the feathers.

He’s frowning— staring after Sylus— but your voice brings him back to you. He looks down with a devastatingly handsome smile. “You’re welcome.” Then it’s gone. “And I’m sorry, too.”

“Wha—?” is all you manage to get out before you’re flung into another pair of arms. Xavier is running away; you can hear him. You can see him, in the corner of your eye: a pale shadow, giving chase after Sylus. Slipping into the labyrinth of spaceship-like corridors.

“Cutie?” Rafayel’s calling, and it must be his arms around you, squeezing you.

You want to answer— you’re going to answer— but then he drops to his knees, the fall making your head spin. You feel sick. “Cutie?” he tries again, and oh, him shaking you really isn’t helping.

“Raf, please— please stop.”

He doesn’t. “Stay with me, okay?” he urges, the red lights on your gear reflecting in his desperate eyes. He looks up at an encroaching figure. “Zayne! Do something!”

The doctor strides towards you, casting a nonchalant gaze over your body. When he speaks, it’s a bleak prognosis: “Last life?”

“Yep! Sylus already got me once. And before that, Raf—”

“Shhhh shh shh,” the man cradling you hushes, “don’t speak, cutie. Save your strength.”

“Shot me. He was pretending to be a spy,” you finish.

“I wasn’t!”

You huff. “Really? So I was just imagining you posing every time you rounded a corner? The forward rolls, all the spinning around and stuff— that was all in my head?”

“Guess so,” he shrugs. “It’s not my fault you fantasise about me being some kinda action hero, you freak.”

Your face is dark. “Zayne?”

An electronic gunshot rings out, and the lights on Rafayel’s vest flash red. He gapes down at himself, then glowers at Zayne as they return to their normal, lives-to-spare blue. The doctor shrugs guiltlessly, a slight tug at the corner of his lips.

Footsteps approach and your allies react: Rafayel cradling you tighter (definitely not using you as a human shield) and Zayne levelling his gun at a pitch-black corridor. The weapon drops as Xavier stalks out of it, his pace brisk and his presence commanding. “Status?” he asks, checking his Hunter’s Watch pointlessly. It’s a force of habit. You do it, too.

“We’re one hunter down,” says Zayne, his tone equally pragmatic. “Sylus?”

“Could be anywhere.” Xavier toes a crow feather with what you can only describe as disgust.

Okay… Rafayel’s grip is getting a little much, now. You feebly tap at his hand, but he’s too busy glaring up at your team leader to notice. “How could you?” he mutters under his breath, deliberately loud.

Xavier spares him a glance. Then you, finally. “I did what I had to.”

“What you had to?” Rafayel’s voice is dangerous. “What you had to?”

Just as you’re thinking about how touching his loyalty is, he drops you the rest of the way to the floor. You lie there, stunned, staring up at the ceiling. The artist stands, then— yep! Steps over you completely. “You’ve gone too far this time, Xavier! You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies.”

He’s thrashing about in an uncaring ocean. Xavier’s eyes are calm. “Don’t I?”

You didn’t know challenges could be issued so softly. Rafayel stares in disbelief, then looks to Zayne for back-up: are you seeing this?

The doctor is quiet as he diagnoses the situation, trying to find the path of least resistance. There has to be a middle ground. A way to appease fire without burning his hands.

His hazel eyes fall on you, and you get the feeling you’re the answer. He comes to stand over you. Crouches down beside you, head low in respect as he takes your hand and squeezes it gently, like he’s savouring a warmth that’s ebbing away.

“Zayne…?” you breathe. You don’t quite know what’s happening.

He releases a breath too, for your voice is a memory and he’ll treasure it, always. His spare hand lifts to cup your cheek, and he meets your eyes with unequivocal devotion. It isn’t innocent. It’s dark.

“We will avenge you,” he vows.

…

It’s nice, being dead.

You can meander aimlessly. You can hum to yourself recklessly.

You don’t have to poke your head around each corner, giving signals that the coast is clear or unclear because Xavier decided— worryingly early in the game— that it was you who should always go first. Step into the open, maybe even a firing line. Sylus will hesitate, he’d insisted, his hands on your shoulders and his eyes boring into yours intensely. You’re his weakness. Exploit it.

You’d nodded, wide-eyed, unsure of what else to do with someone gripping you like that.

What would Xavier say now, you wonder, if he saw you— Sylus’s infamous weakness— watching the man with a tender smile? His scarlet gaze is distracted. He hasn’t noticed you yet. Well, he has, but he’s pretending he hasn’t. He’s busy: crouched behind a wall, peering over it cautiously.

You saunter over. “What’s the plan here, Mr Lone Wolf?”

“Quiet.”

“Mr One Man Army. Mr ‘I don’t need a team, sweetie, I could beat you all with my hands tied.’”

Sylus gifts you a sideways smirk. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“Come on, Sy—” you perch back on the wall he’s using for cover— “death can’t keep us apart. Y’know what that makes me?”  

“Insufferable.”

“Nope. A ghost,” you correct, and the man smiles more widely. It’s still nowhere near enough attention, so you wiggle your arms at him, adding an “ooooooooh!” for good measure.

“You don’t scare me, sweetie.”

Oh really? You study your nails. “You ever think about how if you’d died before you met me, Luke and Kieran would’ve had full creative control of your funeral?”

Sylus’s smile fades the more that image sinks in. “Fine,” he shrugs, “you scare me a little. Now—” he stands to his full height, giving your head a pat— “off to heaven with you, ghost.”

You’re interfering with his mission, you know.

He strides away purposefully, and you can tell he’s enjoying this. The unfair odds. The chance to show off. At last, some enrichment for the wanted criminal who holds your bags while you’re shopping. (Not that he doesn’t enjoy that, too.)

He’s checking over his gun with a customary glance, and the way he moves is addictive; what he’s wearing doesn’t help. A black compression shirt stresses each muscle of his arms and back— the fabric fighting for its life. If you could buy it a drink for its service, you would. You’d buy it ten.

“Yeah…” you exhale, head sideways, gaze low. “I don’t think heaven’s quite where I’m headed.”

Sylus stops.

He turns with a follow-up question, but it never needs to be asked. You’re still shamelessly staring— explaining yourself with faraway eyes and a bottom lip that’s trapped by your teeth. It’s deliberate, of course. Just like you know that shirt was deliberate.

The man’s head tilts in warning. “Careful, sweetie.”

Were his tone a blade he could pin to your throat, he’d know just the right pressure to make your heart stutter. Not too much. Not too little. But he needs to push harder, these days; you’re awfully comfortable at the edge of that knife, and there’s sin in the way you watch him, like you don’t care if you’ll bleed for it.

It pulls him back to you, tantalisingly slowly. A finger lifts your chin, forcing your gaze back to his eyes. “I said, careful,” he repeats, making every word drag.

That gaze sinks low again. An act of defiance; it doesn’t quite reach his body. It stops at his lips.

He leans in closer.

There’s a sound somewhere down the corridor, and a gunshot rings out. Sylus’s arms are around you— a swirl of his Evol stealing you both from reality. You rejoin the world a loud heartbeat later, in a different room, far away from the last. Crow feathers tumble. The scarlet mist dissipates.

Sylus’s vest is flashing red, and he looks at you, betrayed, as it turns back to cobalt.

That’s two lives down, one to go; you’d stolen the first when he’d taken you hostage. “All’s fair in love and war, Sylus,” you smile, untangling yourself from his grasp. “You understand, don’t you?”

You go to leave, but his hand is on your wrist. He pulls you back, and it would be much more threatening if he wasn’t chuckling so fondly. “My team next time?” he asks, kissing the very top of your head.

You sidle away, his hand forced to surrender you. “Maybe,” you grin at him over your shoulder. “I’m in pretty high demand.”

…

“Raf, Raf, Raf!” you chirp, skipping over to the lilac-haired artist.

“Cutie, cutie, cutie!” he chirps back. “Afterlife’s fun, huh?”

“Even more fun now you’re here.” He’s sat on a fallen pillar, arms by his side, legs stretched out. His face is lit by the glow of his vest: a faint but vivid red. Like an ember. “My condolences, fishie.”

He snorts. “Thanks.”

“Gonna tell me what happened?”

Rafayel rolls his head back— a listless sort of stretch. “Xavier shot me. Said I’m a ‘liability’,” he shrugs.  “That I ‘compromised the integrity of the mission.’”

That was a lot of air quotes. “Pretending to be a spy again?” you hazard.

“Nah.”

Ooh! “A gunslinger!”

He’s still staring at the ceiling, but he sighs dreamily, eyes closing. “You know me so well.”

You take a seat next to him, trying not to giggle at the thought of him strutting about in front of Xavier, tipping an invisible hat while the Hunter slowly raised his gun. Gods, how brutal; you hope it was quick. A tiny laugh breaches your lips, and Rafayel opens an eye in suspicion.

You smile innocently. The eye closes again, satisfied. “You’d make a hot cowboy. Or spy.”

“I know,” he breathes out. That was never up for debate. “Which is hotter, though?”

Hmm… You scooch away from him, making a viewfinder with your fingers so you can squint at him through it. His eyes flicker open and he catches on, flashing a smile as he shoots you with a finger gun. “Spy,” you conclude.

“Noted.” His chuckle is warm and wistful.

“So… got any good intel for me, super spy?”

He hums like he has to think about it. “Xavier’s got some big plan to beat Sylus. Wouldn’t tell me what it was, on account of the whole ‘liability’ thing? But yeah, it’s big.”

“How big can it be? It’s laser tag.”

“I think I can shed some light on that matter.”  

It’s a third voice, and the intrusion makes you jump. Rafayel, too, but he’d never admit it. You both glance outwards, to where Zayne is wandering over to you. His walk is relaxed. His gear is red.  

“That line would’ve been way cooler from Xavier,” Rafayel whispers.

“So cool!” you whisper back. Zayne can clearly hear every word, so you’re quick to deflect with a: “Hey, Zayne! What happened to you?”

You know what happened— there’s an obvious, kinda horrifying pattern emerging— but you still need to hear it. Zayne shifts on his feet, looking down at the ground as he finds the right words. “I… was a liability,” he says at last.

“Oh, nice!” Rafayel’s hand shoots out. “Join the club!”

Zayne stares at it blankly, but gives in eventually. His hand meets the artist’s in the least inspiring high-five you’ve ever seen.

“How were you a liability?” you chase up, because it’s harder to picture your stoic doctor prancing around like a secret agent.

Zayne rests his gun back on his shoulder. “I was trying to be a voice of reason.”

There’s a low, sympathetic whistle from Rafayel. “That’ll do it! There’s no reasoning with those levels of crazy.” He looks at you. Interrupts before you can leap to your partner’s defence: “Like, how invested are you in Sylus?”

What the hell’s that supposed to mean? “… A lot?”

Rafayel winces, drawing air through gritted teeth. “Yikes.”

He’s messing with you. He’s messing with you, right? You look up at Zayne— calm, cool, collected Zayne— your anchor in all this insanity. He meets your gaze, and you wait for that smile of reassurance: the one he always manages, even when you’re bleeding out before him, courtesy of a Wanderer you underestimated. Everything will be fine.

He shakes his head discreetly.  

Everything won’t be fine? Oh.

…

“Sylus!”

You sprint down a corridor, your teammates hot at your heels and your breath ragged from running. This place really is a maze, and it’s not like Sylus wants to be found. No— your red-eyed damsel-in-imminent-distress is still marching around out there, oblivious. Avoiding you? Probably.

That’s when you see it. You skid to a stop, Rafayel almost crashing into you.

Perched on a nearby ledge, Mephisto is watching you, head cocked. His mechanical eyes narrow, and there’s no usual caw of greeting. You’re witnessing a professional at work. A crow on a mission, just like his master. You wander over, looking up at him. Then you snatch him down from his pedestal.  

“Listen to me, Mephie,” you conspire as he squawks and wriggles. “Get Sylus, okay? It’s urgent. We have to speak to him.”

You set the bird free, launching him up into the air so he can take forth your message, but he nosedives to the ground, landing in a sorry-looking heap, instead. The little pile of feathers moves. Seems to find its feet, then… keels over sideways with a final squawk. Huh.

“You killed it,” Rafayel observes from behind you.

“I did not!” You crouch down, giving the frozen crow a poke. “C’mon, stop being dramatic! Get up.”

No reaction. Rafayel sings eerily: “Deaaad…”

You scoop Mephisto into your hands and he melts into them. A wing hangs down, and his head hangs backwards, too. You give him a shake. Nothing happens. Standing up, you turn, “Zay—?”

“I’m not a mechanic.” The doctor’s arms are folded.

But you’re looking at him, hope in your eyes and a faint— absolutely not fake— wobble to your lips, so he takes the crow reluctantly. He lifts the fallen wing. Examines the sharp black feathers and plates of metal. ��Is there an off switch you might have pressed?” he ponders aloud. “Or…?”

“It’s at the back of his neck,” a voice that isn’t yours answers.

You’re suddenly clutching feathers; Zayne has shoved Mephisto back into your hands. “I don’t—” you try to resist— “no, don’t give him to—!” You try to hand him back, but Zayne is stepping away.

There’s a presence, looming. “Hey, Sy!” You spin around with a smile.

The man you’ve been searching for stares at you, an eyebrow raised. “Killed Mephisto, did you?”

“Uhhhh, no? It was Rafayel.”

A squeak from behind you: “What!?”

Mercifully, Mephisto springs to life— fluttering away so he can perch on Sylus’s shoulder. He coos, leaning in to nuzzle the finger that lifts to stroke at his beak. Then he caws at you, over and over, like a manic sort of laughter. That stupid bird’s been spending too much time with the twins.

Sylus looks between the three of you, his eyes falling on each red vest in turn. He smiles languidly. “Been playing spy again, little artist?”

“Nope.”

“Cowboy,” the older man guesses again.

Rafayel is silent, his arms crossing defensively. Sylus chuckles, and just as you’re about to scold him, he holsters his weapon with… flair? And tips an invisible hat in the artist’s direction. Rafayel smiles. “How might I be of service?” Sylus asks you, still roleplaying.

Adorable. Focus! “We came to warn you, Sy. Xavier’s—”

“Totally lost it,” Rafayel cuts in. You glare at him and his eyes protest: What!? It’s true!

“We should stick together,” Zayne says. “At least until we can figure out what he’s—”

The lights around you go dead.

No more spotlights, no more stripes of neon; you’re submerged into darkness. The only remaining glow is your vests— three red, one blue— all ominously still. Afraid to move. As your eyes adjust, you can just about make out the others’ faces. Rafayel and Sylus are glancing around, wary, but Zayne’s uneasiness is different.

“Phase one,” he mutters gravely.

You don’t like that. “What’s phase two?”

Please know. Please know. He looks at you. Gives another one of those little head shakes.

At the far end of the corridor, a spotlight flickers to life. You all watch, caught in a spell of suspense as it illuminates nothing— an empty space where you half expect some spectre to be. It goes dark a second later. Then the next spotlight lights up, closer. It goes out. The next one lights. Goes out. Lights.

Light. Dark. Light. Dark.

“What the fuck?” Rafayel murmurs, standing closer than before. His hand finds yours, and you’re actually grateful. You hold it, tight.

“Stay behind us,” Zayne directs at Sylus.

A much, much closer spotlight turns on.

Xavier stands beneath it, deathly still. Every bit the spectre you’d imagined: you can’t quite tell if he’s of heaven or hell. He might have walked out of either. He might drag you to either. It’s that look again: the one he wore before he killed you. Inevitability. It lives in his gaze. There’s no running from it. No pleading with or changing it.

“Enough,” Sylus growls, pushing past you, raising his gun. He pulls the trigger, and the sound of the shot rings out. Nothing comes of it, though. The weapon doesn’t flash. Xavier’s vest doesn’t flash.

The Hunter tilts his head— another challenge, soft as sleep.

Sylus presses the trigger a second time, then a third, a fourth, a fifth. Though his weapon looks like a gun— pierces the silence like a gun— it isn’t one, is it? It’s a vessel. For infrared light.

Now you think of it, this game was rigged from the start. It must dawn on Sylus, because he stops. He tears the gun from its cord and lets it skitter across the floor, no more useless there than it was in his hands. Energy crackles around his fingers, thick like sticky, red blood.

“Sylus,” Zayne warns, but there are tentative snowflakes at his fingertips, too.

Xavier steps closer, mirroring Sylus— throwing his gun aside with a crash. A delicate twist of his hands and a blade is unsheathed from the darkness. Pure light, holy and sharp. He spins the sword with a practiced elegance and it’s admittedly mesmerising. You can’t not watch.

Rafayel wriggles his fingers free of yours, then steps in front of you. You’d never tell him, but his hand had started to burn.

You hadn’t missed this— this tension. So full of tempered things, meant to hurt.

White light floods everything, everywhere, and you have to shield your face with your hands. The others are doing the same, groaning, hissing curses; even Xavier is wincing as he stares at the ceiling.

This isn’t his doing. Isn’t his light.

…

“Who needs that place?” Rafayel grumbles, plucking a fry up from Xavier’s plate and poking it past his lips so he can chew on it with his thoughts. “I mean, I’ve got a private island!”

“And I’ve got guns,” Sylus smiles.

You look up. “Laser tag guns?”

He blinks at you. Nods agreeably: “Sure, sweetie.”

“I’m sure we can buy some.” Zayne is stirring a chocolate milkshake, and he stoops to take a sip.

The four of you are huddled around a table outside a fast-food place, conveniently next door to the laser tag place you’ve just been kicked out of. There’s a board in there, now graced with colourful mugshots of you all, and not everyone looks miserable in them. Sylus is smirking in his, an old hand at notoriety. Rafayel is winking, making finger hearts.

Xavier is still inside, arguing your case with the manager— appealing the whole ‘lifetime bans’ thing— and his food is getting cold. You slap away Rafayel’s hand as it goes in for another fry.

“You’ve got your own, Raf!”

“So?” His hand is quicker this time, dodging yours and whisking three fries away from their friends before you can stop him. “They taste better stolen. Everyone knows that.”

Sylus hums in accordance as he steals a fry for himself. Vultures.

They all nibble away at their food— sometimes Xavier’s food— and you know you’re all thinking about the same thing. That corridor, those flickering spotlights, and the Hunter commanding them. You’ve not really talked about it, yet.

“Y’know,” you muse, “I’ve never seen Xavier like that before. Don’t you think it was kinda…?”

Rafayel bonks your head with a rolled-up menu. “Stop.”

Zayne snatches it from him gently. Flattens it out again and sets it neatly down on the table. “He is right though,” he sighs. “Stop.”

You giggle. “Hear me out, though—”

“Ah! There you are!”

Two figures approach your table, and the voice is very familiar. Twenty minutes ago, it was yelling at you.

It’s the manager of the laser tag place, and he stands before you, hands on his hips and a smile on his wizened face. “I’m glad I found you,” he continues, “your friend and I have just been talking. He explained everything. Who’d have thought, huh? An invisible Wanderer, messing with the lights like that! Destroying my equipment! Anyway, it was so kind of you to get rid of it.”

He pats Xavier’s shoulder, praises: “What a nice young man!”

“It was our pleasure, sir.” Xavier tips his head in respect as Sylus sniggers.

The manager’s too enamoured to notice. “Anyway,” he turns to the rest of you, “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. It goes without saying that you are welcome back, anytime! My treat, of course!”

You all glance between each-other as Xavier thanks the man for his kindness, then waves him goodbye with a genuine warmth. The manager trundles away, leaving your little banquet in peace.

Xavier smiles so fondly, his gaze an azure sky. There’s not a cloud in it, just a bright, radiant sun.

Your budding support group is speechless.

“So,” Xavier beams at you all, “who wants to go again?”

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Unwrap Me For Christmas

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader 

A/N: This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa fic for 2024. This one is for you @atenea585 ! It took some time and ended up longer than I expected but I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Smut

Main Masterlist

You lie in bed with your head on your boyfriend’s firm chest as it rises and falls. Generally, it would lull you back to sleep, but you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the current holiday season. You know the life of a hunter doesn’t exactly lend itself to having quiet days decorating a tree, baking cookies or sitting around drinking eggnog, but you can’t help but want that. You absent-mindedly run your fingers up and down the bare chest beneath you as you imagine doing all of those Christmassy things with the said man underneath you. Suddenly, you feel a warm hand cupping yours to stop your movements.

His deep chuckle reverberates through his chest. “That tickles”. You smile and peck his chest as you roll over more to look up at his beautiful face. His eyes are still closed, hiding his mesmerising emerald eyes. He looks so peaceful.

“Dean…Can we-I want to-Nevermind.” At your stuttering, he opens his eyes and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart? You didn’t take any of that lunatic's spells did ya?”

“I still can’t believe you were a dog and you checked out that poodle right in front of me! But no. I just…I know what you’re gonna say.”

“I could surprise you?”

“No, I know you too well.”

He flips you over so you’re caged between his muscular arms. “You won’t talk? Fine.” He presses soft kisses over your face and neck as his fingers trail down your sides digging in softly. You squirm in his grasp but he doesn’t stop. You rarely get to see this lighthearted and fun side of the hunter, so you revel in it whenever you do. He looks younger like this, not rugged and aged beyond his years like he does whenever he has a blade or gun in his hands. He looks like the mid-30s man he is. Eventually, he stops his fingers and lifts your chin so you meet his eyes. “Ready to talk yet?” You shake your head with a smile. “I torture monsters you know? I can do this all day.”

“Alright, Cap. Prove it!” you say defiantly. He reaches for the bedside drawer and pulls out a tie dangling it above your face. He carefully ties it around your wrists and the headboard as he straddles you. You know then that you’re in for a long morning, but you’re not complaining.

“Sure you don’t wanna talk?” When you stay silent, he kisses your lips softly before working his way down your body. His calloused fingers run under his oversized shirt you’re dressed in and across your bare stomach leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He pushes the shirt up until it’s covering just your eyes.

As you lay on his chest taking in the bliss you finally decide to talk. “I wanna celebrate Christmas…”

“Every day is Christmas since I got you.”

“So, sappy. And then what? Every other day is Halloween?”

He kisses your head. “Yep.”

“I’m serious though. I want it. A Christmas tree, gifts, mistletoe, the whole nine yards. I know we’ll never have the house with a white picket fence and two-point-five kids, but is Christmas too much to ask.”

“No…”

“See, I knew-”

“No, it’s not too much to ask. Let’s do it.”

You roll over to meet his eyes which are shining back at you. “Really?”

“Anything for my girl. The monsters’ll still be there after. We deserve a break. Plus, it’s still a couple weeks away. Now, come on. I need coffee.”

 “But I-” He lifts his eyebrow at you.

“Don’t tempt me.”

Much to your disappointment, when you and Dean finally make it to the kitchen for what is now brunch, Sam slides his laptop across to you to read a strange news report. You sigh and roll your eyes but allow him to tell you both more as you eat and let the caffeine fuel your system. You all agree that it’s worth checking out.

As you’re packing your duffle you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your stomach. “It’ll be a cakewalk, then we’ll be back home for Christmas. I promise.”

“It’s never a cakewalk, Dean.”

“That article had vengeful spirit all over it. We get in burn the bones and then get the hell outta Dodge.”

“You’d better be right.”

“I’m always right.”

You toss a few changes of clothes in your bag with a sigh. Under your breath you huff, “You’re never right.”

“I heard that!” He shoulders his bag and reaches for your hand. “Let’s go, grumpy. The sooner we go, the sooner we can come back and have Christmas.”

The next night you, Dean and Sam are standing over a grave as you watch the bones go up in flames. “I shoulda bought chestnuts, could’a give you your first Christmas tradition,” Dean says with a wink.

“I don’t want chestnuts cooked over a dead body, Dean.”

“It’s just bones.” You roll your eyes and walk back to the car, leaving the brothers to cover the grave back over. You sit in the backseat with your legs dangling out of the open door. As you wait for them to come back you pull out your phone and start searching for gift ideas. If tonight’s tactics worked, Dean may be able to keep his promise, and you want to be ready for that scenario. After scrolling through multiple websites you’re still unsure what to get him, or his brother for that matter. Sam had accepted you as a sister long ago and so you want to show your appreciation for that as well. You know the most useful option would be more ammo or a new weapon or food, but just this once you want a proper Christmas without reminders of hunting. 

When the brothers finally settle back in the car so you can all go back to the motel for much-needed showers and sleep you just decide to ask, “What do you guys want for Christmas?”

Dean meets your eyes in the rearview mirror and winks. “Just you, Sweetheart.”

“Gross!” Sam whines. “To erase that from my memory.”

“I’m serious! I want a real Christmas and I want to get you both things you’ll like.”

The car falls quiet and you lean back on the cool leather as Metallica fills the space instead. You sigh and look out the window into the darkness. When Dean finally parks in front of your room at the motel you jump out, but he grips your wrist before you can get far and pulls you to his chest. With his lips ghosting above your ear he quietly says, “How about a pie? Homemade. Or a new knife? Or…” He tilts his chin lower so his lips are brushing against the tip of your ear. Goosebumps rush down your neck as his hot breath tickles your sensitive skin. “Or you wrapped up in nothing but a bow.” Your breath hitches and your whole body heats up. Before you can even register, he’s gone, walking into the room you both have to share with Sam due to it being the last one available. You quickly compose yourself and follow.

As you lay snuggled up in Dean’s arms listening to his even breaths his words echo through your head sending goosebumps over your whole body. You know you need something else that he can unwrap in front of Sam, but you actually like the thought of him unwrapping you. With the semblance of an idea spawning, you settle into the warm arms around you and close your eyes.

Despite being the last to fall asleep, you’re the first to wake up. You carefully untangle yourself from Dean’s arms and sneak into the bathroom to freshen up. Once you’re done, you scribble down a quick note to say you’ve gone out to get breakfast and coffee and leave it on the table. You use the opportunity while waiting for your order to continue researching gift ideas, this time of the more scandalous variety. As you’re scrolling, a convoy of police cars and an ambulance speed past the cafe towards the house you’d come to investigate. Deflated, you call Dean to wake him up. After a few rings, he mumbles out a “hello”. 

“Our little salt and burn last night didn’t work. Tell Sam to get back on the research. I’m on my way back with coffee and breakfast now.” Without waiting for a response you hang up, grab your order from the bench that you barely noticed was ready and hurry back to the Impala. 

Back at the motel, you dump the food on the table and explain what you saw. Dean sits there rubbing at his eyes as he tries to wake up and take in your words. 

Four days later you’re finally back in the bunker after finding and burning the cursed heirloom ring from the recently deceased grandmother and freeing her restless spirit to move on. During the pursuit you’d had barely a minute to do any further research or shopping and you’re irrationally annoyed with Dean. You know it’s not his fault the hunt turned out the way it did, but you knew it would—it always does—and he promised. Now your idea of a peaceful Christmas is quickly slipping away. You huff as you shoulder past him to go to your room, put your stuff away and collapse in bed. When he catches up with you in your shared room he pulls you close.

“I’m sorry. You were right…you’re always right.”

“Whatever. I just wanna get in a few hours before Sam lines up the next one.”

“No more hunts till after Christmas.”

“Tell that to your oversized baby brother!”

“I have, he promised.” He kisses the top of your head. “Tell you what, you go have a warm bath and relax and then we can watch whatever sappy Christmas movie you want.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now go, I don’t want to see you for at least an hour.” You peck his lips and then pull away. As you go to the door he adds, “And check under the sink, that’s where Sam keeps his special hair stuff. Just don’t tell him I told you.”

“Thanks, Dean. I love you.”

“Love you too, Sweetheart. Now get outta my sight before I change my mind.”

In the bathroom, you quickly strip out of your sweaty clothes from travelling and start to fill the tub. You pour in some floral-scented bubble bath and slip into the shower to quickly shave your legs and wash your hair while you wait for the tub to fill. You get out of the shower just in time before the tub gets too overfilled. You shut off the water, massage in a small dollop of Sam’s secret conditioner, pin up your hair and then slip into the warm bubbly water. You sink down until the water is lapping your collarbone and let out a contented sigh. As you lay there letting the hot water soak into your skin and relax you, you continue considering what to get the brothers. So far all you can think of is a new book set for Sam and some new vinyls or cassettes for Dean, plus the special gift for his eyes only. You know they’d both be more than content with those options so you make a mental note to order them and then let your mind wander back to other Christmas activities, such as what movie you’re going to subject Dean to after the water cools. 

By the time your skin is well and truly pruned, the water is starting to feel cooler, so you drag yourself out of the tub and wrap yourself in a towel. You let the water out and then brace yourself for the cool air in the rest of the bunker. As you wander down the cold hall to your room, your body instantly feels cooler. You miss the warmth of the bathwater already, but you force yourself to go on. In your room, one of Dean’s hoodies, a pair of thick tracksuit pants and a pair of fluffy socks are spread out on the bed with a note: 

Hope you enjoyed your bath, Sweetheart. Put these on and meet me in the Dean-cave.

You smile as you quickly drop the towel and slip into the prepared outfit. You pad down to the Dean-cave and your jaw drops. A fibre-optic tree stands in the corner of the room lighting the whole space in vibrant colours. A fireplace crackles on the TV in the centre of the wall adding a warm glow and an overwhelming aroma of pizza and gingerbread wafts past you. Then you finally settle on the man standing in the middle of the room with his arms outstretched. His comforting smile warms your soul and sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. You never thought a hunter could feel this way or make memories like this, but you’re so grateful that you can. You know in this moment that Dean will be your forever and it only strengthens your resolve to throw the best Christmas either of you have ever experienced. You run over to him and jump into his embrace, his strong arms catch you and hold you tight.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart,” he whispers next to your ear.”

“Thank you. Merry Christmas, Baby.”

Unsurprisingly, Dean falls asleep midway through the movie. You take the opportunity to pull out your phone and order their gifts. Looking at the confirmation emails, you feel more content and positive about the chances of having a real Christmas this year. You carefully move the empty popcorn bowl to the coffee table and snuggle into your boyfriend’s weak embrace to enjoy the remainder of the sappy Christmas flick. 

The next week passes quickly and it’s Christmas Eve before you know it. Over the last few days, you decorated more trees to put in the library and kitchen and baked Christmas cookies. Finally, the bunker looked, smelled and felt Christmassy, at least in the most used rooms. Your gifts had arrived and you managed to sneak away to wrap them, now all that’s left is to put them under the tree, celebrate Christmas day and then orchestrate Dean’s special present.

While Dean’s working hard in the kitchen cleaning up from his Christmas cooking, I sneak out and put the presents for them under the tree in the library where they’re most likely to see them. I then quickly sneak back to our room and snuggle up in bed while I wait for Dean to join me. The anticipation sparkles through my body making it hard to relax. I scroll through my phone to distract myself by it’s no use, every photo is of people out celebrating Christmas. 

When Dean finally comes and joins me, I snuggle into his embrace and try to relax. He checks his watch and then kisses my head, “Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas my love.” 

When you wake up, the bed is already empty. You’re a little disappointed at first but then you figure that Dean must be up doing something special, so you forgive him and jump out of bed to search for him. Predictably, you find him in the kitchen in front of the industrial stove. You approach quietly and wrap your arms around his chest. “Good morning, Handsome.”

“Good morning, Beautiful. Your special Christmas breakfast will be ready soon.”

You glance around him at the frying pan. It’s full of bacon and a plate of fried eggs sits to the side. “We have bacon and eggs all the time.”

“So? It’s still special.”

“I guess. I’ll be right back.” You kiss the back of his shoulder blade and then pull away. You go to the bathroom to freshen up for the morning, brush your teeth and then get changed into the dress you ordered when you ordered their gifts. It’s a bright red A-line dress with long sleeves, the hem falls around your knees and it flows around you as you move. You rarely dress up like this. The most you generally get to do is a button-down and pencil skirt when you’re pretending to be FBI or short slutty numbers when you’re playing bait in bars. This dress is cute and conservative but makes you feel so pretty. You sway a few more times in front of the mirror admiring your different look before finally emerging from your room and going back to join Dean in the kitchen. When you walk in, he’s set the table with plates, and cutlery and poured you both a mug of coffee. As a treat, he even added a dash of milk and sugar to yours. You can drink it black and often do due to not always having access to the luxury of milk and sugar, but he knows you prefer it on the sweeter side. You smile and he checks you out. He’s speechless. He nudges you towards your seat at the table.

“Sit down before I change my mind about all this and take you back to bed for breakfast instead.”

You smirk as you twirl in front of him. “You like?”

“You kidding? You’re stunning. Sometimes I forget you’re a woman and can look this beautiful.” You give him a disgruntled look and he tries to backpedal. “You know what I mean! I know you’re a woman, it’s just you never dress up like this. You’re always dressing and acting like one of the guys with me and Sam. You fit so well that sometimes it just feels like you’re one of us instead of my incredibly sexy girlfriend.” You giggle a little at his clear embarrassment and he shakes his head with a mock glare. “Sit down and eat your breakfast, it’s going cold.”

“You gonna make me?”

“Don’t tempt me I just m-” Sam comes into the room cutting off Dean as he’s about to reach for your waist and turn this day around. Not wanting him to expose his present yet, and especially not in front of Sam, you quickly sit down and sip your sweet coffee. 

After a large gulp of caffeine, you finally say, “Good morning, Sam. Merry Christmas.”

“Morning, Y/N. Merry Christmas.”

“I know Dean wouldn’t have cooked it, but that meat-free bacon you like is in the fridge. I wanted-”

“You what? You know there’s no meat-free shit in the Meat-Man’s kitchen!” Dean proclaims loudly.

“One, it’s not just your kitchen, Babe. And two, that does not mean what you think it does,” you say with a pointed look before smiling back at Sam, “help yourself. Consider it your first Christmas gift.”

“Than-”

“First? Why does he get more than one?” Dean complains.

“Who said you don’t? Stop whining and eat your breakfast.”

“Or what?”

“Stop it or I’m going back to bed!” Sam says. “I’m not listening to your bedroom talk at breakfast.”

“Yeah, Y/N, stop it.” Dean teases.

“You’re so childish,” you say with a smile before diving into your breakfast.

Once you all finish eating, you help clean up and then move to the Dean Cave. Dean flops down on the two-seater and stretches his arms along the back so you can slot in beside him. You turn on the lights on the tree and then sit down beside him as Sam sits on the single recliner beside you. Dean flicks on the TV to fill the space and finds a Christmas movie playing. After a few minutes, you all realise how sappy and predictable it is, so you get up to go get your gifts from the tree in the library. You hand them to the brothers and then sit down to watch them unwrap them. Sam goes first, carefully peeling apart the paper to reveal the new fantasy book set. He flips it over to read the blurb and then thanks you, saying he can’t wait to read it. You then turn to Dean. He fiddles with the packages trying to guess what it is and you grimace, worried he’s going to break it. Then he finally rips the paper off and inspects the albums. 

“These will be great to play in our new machine. Thanks, Sweetheart.” He carefully places them to the side and slaps his thighs as he gets up. “My turn I guess.” He collects two messily wrapped gifts from under the tree. He tosses one to Sam and hands the other to you gently. “Sam first,” he winks at you as he sits back down. Sam tears off the newspaper wrapping and smiles knowingly at the bottle of beer and skin mags. Then they both look at you expectantly. You take the hint and open yours. It’s small and feels solid as you turn it in your hands. You hold your breath as you peel away the paper to reveal a small velvet jewellery box. You shake your head as you look over at your boyfriend. He just nods. You close your eyes as you flick the box open.

Dean rests his hand on your bare knee urging you to look. When you finally open your eyes you see it’s a small pendant of a strange symbol hung on a thin black rope that matches his. You finally allow yourself to breathe as he takes it out of the box and ties it on your neck. With his lips near your ear, he asks, “You expected a ring?”

“Maybe…But I was more scared that it was. I love you Dean, but-”

“I know. It’s an angelic protection symbol, just FYI. Cas showed me and I made it.”

“I love it.”

Sam then gets up and retrieves two paper bags from his room. He hands one each to you and Dean. You both carefully reach into the bags at the same time pulling out a bottle of booze. Yours is a sweet strawberry and cream liquor that he caught you ordering at a bar a while ago. It was highly over priced to buy by the glass but you know it’s not something any of you would buy at a liquor store as you always get drinks you can all share or that are on the sale rack. Dean then inspects his bottle of top-shelf scotch whiskey. You know it’ll be gone in no time, but he’ll enjoy it. You both thank Sam for the thoughtful gifts and relax back into your seats. 

You all spend the rest of the day relaxing in the Dean Cave watching Christmas movies until it’s time for dinner. Around 5pm Dean stands up and disappears into the kitchen to start preparing some festive food. He carves ham off the bone, heats some turkey pieces, mashes potatoes and roasts a range of seasonal veggies after covering them in salt and oil of course to make them edible in his eyes. You spend the time while he’s distracted getting your room ready for his after-dinner surprise. You make the bed nicely and lay the thin lacy dressing gown you bought with the lingerie on the end of the bed for quick change. Finally, you hang one of his ties on the door knob so you can blindfold him when the time is right.

The table is set beautifully when you finally join the brothers in the kitchen. Sam has a glass of eggnog in front of him. He pours one each for you and Dean with a small smirk and you instantly know it’s going to be strong. You take a small sip and wince. You place it down, you want to be sober-ish tonight for a seamless execution. Dean places the last of the food on the table and sits opposite you. You all start dishing up your food and try to have a lighthearted conversation that doesn’t revolve around hunting; it’s harder than you thought. As you eat, you take small sips of the eggnog. Dean smiles at you whenever you look up. As much as he’d never admit it, you know he’s enjoying celebrating Christmas as much as you are. He’s never had much chance to have anything nice or indulge in normal celebrations. Since you’ve been in his life you’ve tried to do what you can, but being a hunter makes it difficult. The most you generally manage is to buy or make him a pie and then either start or end the day with mind-blowing sex or a blow job, but if you’re hunting he rarely even gets that. That’s why you’re so determined to make today special. 

Dessert comes soon after dinner is put away and cleaned up, which you’re thankful for. The nearer the end of the night gets, the more eager you get for Dean’s gift. You barely want to eat as you don’t want to go into a food coma; you want to be agile enough for the night’s activities but you know if you don’t eat it will be suspicious, so you force yourself to eat a small piece of pie slowly. Across from you, Dean scoffs his pie like it’s his last meal on Earth. You can’t help but smile. But then a blush creeps up your neck and cheeks as you imagine him eating you as passionately as he is the pie. You know he would, and likely will later tonight. You force yourself to push away the thought before they notice.

Half an hour later it’s finally acceptable to sneak away. Sam excuses himself to his room to start reading the books you gave him and you use the opportunity to sneak out of the kitchen yourself. You lean against your bedroom door as you wait patiently–or impatiently rather–for Dean to come find you. You fiddle with his tie as you wait. After what feels like an eternity, but is really only a few minutes, you hear Dean coming down the hall. You instantly straighten yourself up and put on a confident front. The second your eyes meet he smirks knowing something is up, or maybe he has plans of his own, you’re not entirely sure, but you know there’ll be time for both if he does. He picks up his pace to jog to you, but as he gets within reach you put your hands out in front of you, the tie dangling off the fingers of your right hand. 

“You gonna tie me up?” he asks lowly, eyeing off the piece of material.

“Maybe…but first, lean down, you’re too tall.” He happily obliges but he kisses you briefly as he does. You take the opportunity to quickly wrap the tie over his eyes and in a bow at the back of his head. He doesn’t complain, he just uses his other, now heightened senses to continue to kiss you and hold you close. As he does, you reach behind you to turn the doorknob and slowly walk backwards into the room. Once the door is shut you step back quickly out of his reach and slip your red dress over your head, quickly replacing it with the lacey dressing gown. You tie a careful bow as Dean tries to seek you out. You stay just out of his reach as you sneak around behind him and lay carefully in the middle of the bed trying your best to pose seductively.

“Alright, come get your gift, Handsome.”

A low growl comes from his throat as he takes small careful steps towards your voice. When he’s facing you and almost against the end of the bed you tell him to take off the blindfold. He reaches behind his head quickly ripping the fabric off his head. His hair spikes up in all directions and you almost laugh, but you stay composed as his eyes run over you. “You gonna unwrap your present?”

“Fuck yeah. Just gimme a second to admire you first. So sexy.”

You stretch your legs out, reaching for him with your toes, but he quickly captures your foot and runs his calloused hand down your calf to your knee. He keeps a grip on your knee, holding you close as he crawls onto the bed. He runs his other hand down your other leg before lightly pulling them both around his waist. You cross your ankles behind his back pulling him closer. He falls to his hands, hovering over you as he continues to take in the moment. He kisses you softly before sitting back on his knees. He softly runs his fingers over the soft material before paying close attention to the bow. Savouring the moment, he unties it slowly before pushing the material away to expose the sexy red lingerie that leaves little to the imagination.

He growls lowly again as he asks, “Were you wearing this all day?” You nod and he throws his head back groaning. “I knew I should’a brought you back in here earlier.” He looks down at the thin lace covering your sex and bites his lip. “Looks like the wait was definitely worth it though. You’re so ready for me already.” 

You nod. “So, why’d you stop unwrapping?” That’s all he needs to pull you up to him and strip the grown from your shoulders. He kisses you deeply as his hands explore the lace and your body. You can tell he’s searching for how to remove the barrier from your body, but it’s admittedly complicated, so you just bring his hand down to where you need him and push the fabric to the side. He obediently slides two fingers into your heat with a groan and hooks them forward. You throw your head back and his lips slide down your neck, kissing every sensitive point like he has them mapped out in his head (to be honest, he probably does).

Near your ear, he whispers, “This is the best Christmas ever. Thank you, Baby.” You gasp at his words. He rarely calls you that, that particular pet name is saved for his precious car, but whenever he does it’s during passionate moments like this and you know then that he considers you one of the most important aspects of his life. Deep down you know he’d let the Impala fall off a cliff if it meant saving you or Sam, but it’s still extremely important to him; she’s his last tangible link to his parents and you’d never begrudge him of that. Your thoughts are dragged back to the present when he pulls away. You open your eyes to glare at him when you notice he’s shedding his shirts and jeans. You use that moment to undo the hidden clasps that keep the lace in place. He shakes his head at you, knowing he never would’ve found them on his own. He reaches out his hands to pull you up to him so he can help you the rest of the way out of what looks like a very sexy trap. The second you’re both naked he gently guides you back onto the bed and crawls over you. He kisses you softly as he slides inside your wet heat with a moan. You bite down on his lower lip as he pushes all the way in, filling you perfectly. He gives you both a minute to adjust and get used to the bliss before pulling back slightly and thrusting back in with more force. You dig your fingers into his short hair as he continues to increase his pace and pressure. As he bites his lip and his little sounds intensify you can tell he’s trying to hold back and drag out the moment. You slide your hand up his left arm and lock your fingers with his before guiding his hand to your clit. He rubs small circles at just the pressure he knows gets you off as he slows his hip movements slightly, dragging out each forceful thrust. You throw your head back with a loud moan as you feel yourself let go around him. He gives you two final thrusts before finally letting himself go. He pulls his left hand back off you to hold himself up as his lower body convulses with yours. After a few seconds, he falls to the side beside you trying to catch his breath. You lay there just revelling in the pleasure too until he reaches out and pulls you to his chest. He kisses your head and says, “Merry Christmas, Baby. Best gift ever.”

“Merry Christmas my love. I completely agree.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[missaengg]

Hello! I enjoy your fics featuring the LaDs men, especially Rafayel. Would you consider writing another with feral Rafayel? Everything is with the full consent of both parties, Rafayel is just urgently needy and difficult to satisfy. It could be another Ebb and Flow Day, where he desperately wants to feel and taste the MC. No matter your decision, thank you for opening asks and reading this. Please continue to write what you enjoy.

Hi!! Sorry I haven't been able to get back to you more quickly! I've had this idea in the works now and thought this might be a good fit for a feral Rafayel. Hope it satisfies~ If it doesn't, I have a few more fics planned for him 🤭

Missing You Pt. 2: Rafayel Comes Home

Pairing: Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, creampie, p in v sex, established relationship Word Count: 1783 Read Part One here. Rafayel's been away for three weeks on a tour, and he's finally come home. But he's missed you terribly. ao3 link here.

Your bedroom feels lonely.

Too lonely. 

Especially with Rafayel still gone on his tour. 

You sigh, rubbing lotion on your arms, the last step of your bedtime routine. You eye the dildo molded into the shape of Rafayel’s dick sitting on your nightstand. The one he gifted you almost two weeks ago. You debate whether you want it to lull you to sleep like it did last night, an almost nightly occurrence. You feel your cheeks color because of how dependent you’ve been on Little Rafayel since it arrived, but you miss your boyfriend terribly, and well… having this replica almost makes it feel like he’s with you… almost.

A pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, and you jump, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s late at night, and you’re home alone. A burglar? A murderer? A rapist? Your brain assumes the worst… 

Your Hunter training kicks in, and you sink your elbow into the intruder’s stomach feeling pleased when they groan in pain, but then freeze because you recognize the sound of the intruder’s voice and the scent of their cologne.

His cologne.

“Rafayel?!”

“Geez, now I remember why I made you my bodyguard,” Rafayel wheezes.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in,” you apologize, feeling terrible for how hard you hit him, but… “What were you thinking, sneaking up on me?”

“Hi, cutie,” he mumbles into your hair, simply holding you tighter against him. “Wanted to surprise you.”

You shake your head and sigh. After being apart for almost three weeks, you can’t stay mad at him. You’re just glad he’s returned. “When’d you get back?”

“Just now. Came straight here.”

You melt into his embrace. You’ve missed this so much. His warmth. His hugs. “Welcome back,” you murmur.

Rafayel nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I missed you.” He breathes you in deeply, almost as if he’s attempting to commit the smell of you to his memory.

He exhales just as deeply as he breathed in, and the long, puff of air hitting your neck tickles, feeling unnaturally hot on your skin. But when Rafayel presses his soft lips in a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, it burns even hotter in their wake.

“I missed you so… so much,” he hoarsely whispers.

His greedy hands roam your body with a needy urgency, mapping every ridge and crevice. They grab at your clothes, your flesh… your breasts. He kneads them under his palm, squeezing and massaging them together, sultry, breathy moans fluttering from his parted lips.

“Wait, Raf, I want to look at you. I haven’t seen you in three weeks,” you protest, pulling at his arms so you can turn around and face him, but Rafayel locks his arms, pulling you in so tight you’re suffocatingly snug against him. 

“Let me just… just taste you for a bit….” 

The sounds Rafayel’s making are downright erotic. Even without the sensation of his mouth on your neck and his hands on your breasts and your stomach, the noises coming out of his mouth alone are flooding your body with an unbearable, feverish heat.

“I missed your body so much.” Rafayel pants heavily, expelling low, throbbing groans that tingle down your spine into your own throbbing desire. “I missed this. I missed you.”

Your breath hitches when he pinches your nipple and aggressively thrusts his hand between your legs, rubbing his open palm back and forth against your clothed sex. Both his arms are entwined around your chest and between the apex of your legs effectively trapping you against his heaving chest.

“Raf, I missed you too, but–”

He interrupts you by grazing his teeth along the contour of your shoulder. The friction of his hands and his teeth on your body are overwhelming, and you can’t help, but tremble, your knees growing weak from the buzz of electricity coursing through your veins.

He slips the hand that’s been rubbing you under your nightshirt and into the waistband of your underwear, brushing his pointer past your clit and sliding in between your folds. He shivers when they feel how wet you are for him.

“Baby, you’re driving me crazy,” he croaks. “Been dreaming about this for weeks.”

Rafayel grinds the firm erection in his pants against your lower back, placing a sloppy kiss on your neck. He circles his slick finger around your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves in a series of short strokes of varying pressure. Light, firm, long, hard. All while his rock hard length drags up and down the small of your back.

You breathlessly whimper, each stroke of his sinful finger shooting a dazzling spark deep through your center.

“Raf…” you rasp, reeling when a particularly firm pass causes your vision to flash white. 

“Gotta… gotta feel you… gotta…” Rafayel babbles, and it’s obvious how much pain he’s in from the strain in his nonsensical rambling. “Wanna be… inside… be inside… fuck… gotta…”

He lets out an agitated, strangled cry, and before your dazed mind can process what he’s doing, he’s pushed you up against the wall, caging you in, hiking your nightshirt up around your waist, tugging your underwear down mid-thigh, fumbling to pull his own bottoms down with a single hand. Just enough to grant him access.

You brace yourself on the wall with your palms.

Rafayel plunges in, letting out the most delicious guttural groan as he stretches you open with the entirety of his length. 

“Fuck, Raf,” you keen, unable to bite back the throaty moans tumbling from your mouth.

“Still think Little Rafayel is bigger than me?” he snickers.

You feel yourself clench around his shaft stuffing you past the point of being full, and you realize you were wrong. So very wrong. Rafayel didn’t embellish Little Rafayel at all. If anything, Little Rafayel is an underestimation of him.

“I was– was wrong,” you whimper. “You’re so much– so much bigger.”

You can’t see Rafayel’s face, but you just know he’s smirking in an infuriating ‘I-Told-You-So’ manner. “Need to punish you for thinking… thinking so little of me.”

He snaps his hips against you hard, and you cry out as his bulbous head slams into your cervix, pain and pleasure spreading through your flushed, quivering body. You feel Rafayel shudder, and he stumbles a step forward so you’re flush against the wall and he’s flush against you, driving deeper into you.

You arch your back, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder, and Rafayel nestles his cheek in your hair. He moves his hips in shallow undulations, so shallow his tip drags on your cervix with no reprieve. 

“Three weeks,” he husks achingly in your ear. “Three weeks without feeling your sweet, little cunt.” His shaky breaths wisp against your earlobe. “Did your sweet, little cunt miss me?”

Your heart thrums from the longing pulsing in his voice, the same longing you yourself have felt over the agonizing weeks he was gone. “I slept with Little Rafayel every night–” Rafayel makes an adorable, indignant noise, so adorable your heart beats faster and you smile, “–but it’s just not the same. It can’t replace you. It can’t replace falling asleep in your arms.”

“God, I love you,” Rafayel slurs.

Your words must’ve unlocked something primal within him because he rocks his hips, thrusting with passionate need as if he’ll die if he can’t have you right this very second. There’s an agonizing frenzy to his lunging, a frenetic desperation to feel you, taste you, take you.

You push your hips back to meet him, and together, you roll your hips against one another, the yearning you both felt conveyed without words in the way your bodies seek out the other. Just as he desires to have all of you, you desire to have all of him, and your bodies meld together into one.

His ragged gasps feed the delirium swelling in your lower body, ebbing and flowing in waves. Crashing over you. Muddling all your senses. 

“Raf…” you plead.

Rafayel understands what you’re asking immediately, and he drives into you with a new sense of urgency. “Baby, come… come for me,” he croons. “Missed your… your sweet voice… Wantcha to… to sing for me.” 

His voice cracks on the last word he utters, severing the last shred of your composure. A final, roiling wave overtakes you, pulling you under, and you’re tumbling, caught in the throes of its turbulence. Spinning. Drowning. Unable to tell up from down.

You can’t breathe. 

You can only helplessly call out his name.

Your body reacts beyond your control, and as you pulsate erratically around the entirety of Rafayel’s length, he breaks, spilling into you with uncontrolled ferocity. Painting you with weeks of pent-up frustration. Weeks of being away from you.

Your knees buckle, but Rafayel wraps you into his embrace, saving you from crumpling to the floor.

“Raf, I want to see you,” you whine, and Rafayel chuckles, relaxing his hold just enough for you to turn around.

But before you can even look at him, his lips are claiming yours in a deep, tender kiss threatening to turn your legs into jelly once more, and you’re melting in his arms again, your heart feeling as though it might burst. 

He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, grazing the tip of your nose with his.

You can finally gaze into his eyes, and you’re blown away by how he just looks at you, his deep violet eyes dark with desire, love, and lust. For you.

 “I’m never leaving you for this long again,” he murmurs. “Almost killed me.”

He kisses you again, tracing your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, gently prodding at the crevice between your lips begging for entrance. You accede, parting your lips for him to slip in. In one swift movement without breaking the kiss, he picks you up, cradling you against his chest, and the next thing you know, you’re falling on your bed, Rafayel hovering over you.

“Three weeks, baby. Three weeks.” He slides his hand up your leg, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone. “Gotta make up for… three weeks.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, gently scratching the back of his head and running his hair through your fingers. “I’m off tomorrow,” you whisper.

Rafayel utters a heady groan, and he’s sweeping you up in another dizzying kiss stealing your breath away. “Never again…” he says in between kisses. “Too long…”

You wrap your legs around his waist pulling him flush against you.

You know it’s going to be a long night, but you don’t mind. Not even a little. Not at all.

[someone1348]

For the hunter x hunter fic

[fourthavecafe]

may I please request a sort of sequel thing to killua using his assassin techniques for something much cuter where he finds out that not only do we like being tickled but we LOVE it

I'm thinking the reader gets tied up somehow (maybe we get kidnapped and he rescues us or get caught in a trap or maybe killua is just showing off how much better he is) and our arms are above our head, completely unable to defend our self against him

killua taking advantage of your little situation

The air was damp and musty in the dimly lit cavern where you were stuck. The ropes that bound your wrists above your head were taut and your arms were starting to ache from being held in such an uncomfortable position.

You had stumbled into this trap during your mission, one you were sent on with the assurance that it would be “simple.” Of course, that was never the case.

You had tried twisting, wriggling and even reasoning with the ropes as if they might magically unbind you out of pity.

But no luck. With a deep sigh, you resigned yourself to waiting, hoping someone would find you before whatever had set this trap returned.

Just when the silence became unbearable, a familiar voice cut through the gloom.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Your head shot up, and there he was killua standing casually at the mouth of the cavern with his hands shoved into his pockets. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the pale light and his sharp blue eyes were filled with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

“About time” you muttered. “You took your sweet time finding me, huh?”

Killua smirked as he approached, his steps echoing softly. “Oh, excuse me for not having a map to your embarrassing little predicament. Seriously, how did you even manage this?”

You huffed, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. “I was going to escape on my own, you know. I just didn’t want to rush it and deprive you of the chance to play hero.”

Killua raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. “You were going to escape? With what? Sheer willpower? Because it sure doesn’t look like you’ve made any progress.”

“I was about to !” you shot back, your tone light but teasing. “I didn’t need your help.”

“Right” Killua drawled sarcastically. “Because you’re so competent. Let me guess you were also about to invent a way to untie knots with your mind?”

“I’ll have you know I could’ve handled this” you replied, sticking your tongue out at him. “and I was doing just fine before you got here, thank you very much.”

Killua leaned against one of the cavern walls, crossing his arms and giving you a mockingly appraising look. “You? Fine? You can’t even handle a little tickling without falling apart and you think you could handle this?”

The comment threw you off guard and before you could retort, Killua took a single step closer and casually poked your stomach.

A sharp, involuntary giggle escaped your lips and you glared at him. “H-Hey! That’s not fair!”

Killua’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “Ohhh, interesting.”

You narrowed your eyes, immediately regretting your reaction. “Don’t even think about it, Killua.”

But it was too late. He tilted his head, his expression somewhere between teasing and downright evil. “You know” he said, taking another step closer “I don’t think I will untie you just yet. After all, you said you didn’t need my help, right?”

“Killua, don’t you dare—”

“Prove it.” He grinned, now standing directly in front of you. “Get yourself out. Go on, I’ll wait.”

Your jaw dropped. “I can’t get myself out! My arms are tied up!”

“Sounds like a you problem” Killua quipped, shrugging.

You glared at him, trying to muster up some authority despite your vulnerable position. “Killua, this isn’t funny. Untie me.”

“No way.” His grin was downright devilish now. “This is way more fun. Let’s see how you handle this.”

Before you could respond, his fingers darted to your sides, squeezing lightly. You jerked in your restraints, a burst of laughter escaping despite your best efforts to hold it in.

“Killua, stop!” you managed between giggles.

“What’s wrong?” he teased, his hands now lightly tickling your ribs. “I thought you were tough? Didn’t need my help, huh? But you can’t even handle this?”

You squirmed, twisting as much as the ropes would allow but it was no use. Killua was relentless, his hands darting to your stomach, ribs and sides with a precision that only someone like him could manage.

“Okay! Okay! I give up!” you cried, laughter bubbling uncontrollably.

“Already?” Killua asked, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. “That’s pathetic. You’re really not trying, are you?”

You gasped for breath, shaking your head. “Killua, I mean it—s-stop!”

“But why would I stop? This is way more entertaining than rescuing you.” He moved his hands to your hips, earning another loud burst of laughter from you. “You said you didn’t need me, remember?”

“I lied!” you admitted through your giggles. “I need your help! Please!”

Killua paused for a moment, his hands still resting on your hips. He looked up at you, his smirk softening into something more playful. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You glared at him, your face red from both the exertion of laughing and the sheer embarrassment of the situation. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Oh, I know” Killua replied smugly. “But you love it.”

You opened your mouth to argue but before you could say anything, Killua’s fingers moved again, this time targeting the sensitive spot just below your ribs. Your laughter exploded once more, any semblance of composure completely shattered.

“You’re so bad at this” Killua said, his voice filled with mock pity. “How do you ever expect to go on a mission alone if you can’t even survive a little tickle torture?”

“This isn’t—!” you tried to protest but another burst of laughter cut you off. “This isn’t fair!”

“Life’s not fair” Killua quipped, grinning like a cat playing with a mouse.

Your struggles grew weaker as you were overwhelmed by laughter, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Okay, Killua! You win! Just untie me already!”

He stopped, stepping back and crossing his arms as he regarded you with a satisfied smirk. “Hmmm. I don’t know. I’m kinda enjoying this.”

You glared at him, panting. “Killua, I swear—”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” He reached up, his fingers deftly untying the ropes. “But seriously, you’re the most helpless person I’ve ever met.”

As soon as your arms were free, you stumbled forward, rubbing your wrists and glaring at him. “You’re a sadist, you know that?”

Killua shrugged, his grin unrepentant. “Maybe. But you have to admit, that was funny.”

You gave him a half-hearted shove, which he easily dodged, laughing. “Next time, I’m leaving you tied up” you muttered.

“Sure you will” Killua said with a smirk, walking ahead. “But first, you’ll have to catch me.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you followed him out of the cavern.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 5: We Got Us An IKEA Virgin

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Soft Ben/Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), derogatory comments, sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: This one is incredibly fluffy and self-indulgent, let's be honest, all of my fics are and I'm not sorry. This chapter contains an absolutely cutesy scenario that I just had to write, so if you don't like anything like that then probably shouldn't read it :) If you love that kind of thing then ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Spotify Playlist 🪴

“What the fuck is this place?” Ben asks in disbelief as he looks around the spacious lobby of the Brooklyn IKEA.

The smell of cinnamon buns, chocolate chip cookies, coffee, and Swedish meatballs wafts over the crowded lobby towards where the two of you stand just inside the welcoming large blue and yellow front doors. Light streams through the front windows tickling against your skin and spreading over the front tables where various displays of houseplants bask in the late afternoon sun. They stretch their leaves towards the sunlight, unfurling towards the light each in various shades of green, sitting in happy colored pots waiting to be picked up by the people who weave through the front lobby.

There were less here than at the plant shop of course, but there were still enough plants for you to feel the prickle of your powers beneath your skin and feel the plants begin to tilt towards you as they sense you enter the building.

“It’s IKEA. You’ve never been to IKEA before?” You say taking a step towards the display of snake plants, livening up a few that look like they could use a little love, feeling the gentle bend of their firm leaves straighten beneath your touch.

“I don’t know if you remember this or not Petals, but I haven’t exactly been out and about in forty years. And I have no idea why you’ve been here before.”

“Well I’ve never been to this exact location before, but there was one an hour away from where Annie and I grew up. There wasn’t much to do where we lived so we drove to that one. But that’s beside the point. IKEA was created in the 50’s which means you had thirty years to experience all of this.” You glance up at him mildly confused.

He could have at least heard of IKEA in the thirty years he had before he got taken to Russia.

“So? I’ve never been shopping for furniture. I just made Legend do that shit for me. I was saving the world. Didn’t have time to go picking out couches like a fucking pansy.” Ben frowns down at you.

“Really? You didn’t care what was in your apartment? You didn't want to test out a couch before you bought it?” You think about your vintage bedside table and carved wooden headboard that you found when thrifting with Annie one weekend. "I mean you had to look at it everyday."

Ben shrugs. “Wasn’t there too much. Really just needed the bed.“

"So you're telling me you're an IKEA virgin?" You gasp dramatically.

Ben quirks the end of his lips mildly amused. "Will you be gentle with me if I say yes?"

"I'll consider it." You shrug. "But then again it was you that said you liked it a little rough and that there was nothing gentle about you. So, I think you're just gonna have to put on your big boy pants and follow my lead."

"Baby I can't wait to show you just how big I-"

You roll your eyes and turn back to the plants that need your attention, interrupting the end of his sentence. "I really hope that whoever lives in your old apartment burned down the whole building and then rebuilt. Seems like the only way to purge what happened there in the bed you're so proud of.” You shudder trying hard not to think about what happened in Ben’s old apartment and say a prayer that the same thing won’t happen in yours.

Not in front of my plants, they're young and impressionable for fucks sake.

It had been three days since Ben and you had watched a movie on your couch and exactly two days after he’d moved all his stuff in from Butcher’s apartment. Stuff being a relative term because it was really just a large garbage bag filled with his clothes.

It made you feel even worse for him when he showed up at your front door with that, but you had cleaned out the linen closet and removed a few of the shelves inside it for Ben to use. It was a better alternative to him using your bedroom closet. The last thing you wanted was for him to come into your room at inopportune times.

The team had different reactions to finding out the two of you were living together. Butcher had mocked you endlessly, Frenchie and Kimiko had bought you a ridiculously skimpy, cheap, and tight set of lacy lingerie that looked more like dental floss than anything else, MM told you that you were making a mistake, Hughie was stunned, and Annie was annoying you without end.

Annie had begun to send you pictures of what Ben and your children would look like and you had retaliated by telling Hughie about the Fourth of July disaster that happened when you and Annie were sixteen. When Annie was in the cherry pie eating contest after deciding to partake in cheaply made moonshine her boyfriend, Dominic, had stolen from his dad and then vomited red froth all over her boyfriend when he tried to kiss her and made him throw up all over her.

You still couldn’t look at a cherry pie without gagging.

Unfortunately that just made the photos get more and more unhinged. The last one was a picture of a body builder standing in a green house with a baby’s face photoshopped on it.

You suspected that Hughie had something to do with that one. And as revenge, you sent Annie a picture of a baby with a light bulb photoshopped where its head should be.

But while sitting on your couch watching that ridiculous movie with Ben, you realized that if Ben was really going to move in you needed to get a bigger one, one that he could at least stretch out on without his legs hanging over the end and one that he wouldn't have to worry about falling off of if he moved more than a centimeter.

You and Ben had spent the morning driving around in Butcher’s car going from auto shop to auto shop trying to see if anyone knew anything about the supe, or had seen anything weird happen the nights the cars were jacked. None of the workers saw anything or had seemed suspicious of Ben and you asking questions. The owner of the last auto shop had said that one week ago someone had broken in and stolen some equipment, but the auto shop didn’t have any security cameras. Which meant you were back to square one.

You dreaded the call to Butcher, but when you walked out of the last auto shop you noticed tables and chairs being unloaded from a large truck and when you went over to ask what was going on, you found out that one of the representatives who was running for city comp troller in the next election was throwing a gala on Saturday night.

That meant that the streets would be lined with expensive cars, and you knew that was something the supe wouldn’t be able to pass up. Expensive cars in his neighborhood just waiting to be stripped. So now Butcher was making a plan for Saturday night and you were stuck with Ben.

But lately it hadn't felt like you were stuck with him. It felt different.

You were surprised that it had been three days and Ben and you hadn’t killed each other, in fact it was almost kind of nice. Yes he still annoyed the shit out of you and made comments about sleeping with him, but you were getting used to him being there when you got home. Not to mention he actually fixed a leak underneath the kitchen sink that you’d told the super about time and time again for the past four months with no reply.

You didn’t know that Ben knew how to do that kind of stuff. Figured that he never got his hands dirty, but then you’d seen him on his back under the sink with a newly purchased toolbox on the ground next to him. When you'd tried to tell him that you could call someone to do that, he'd waved you off and said that it was a man's job to fix things around the house. But that hadn't stopped you from sitting on the ground next to him and ask him exactly what he was doing so you knew how.

When you’d asked him why he needed to fix it so urgently, Ben said that the dripping was keeping him up at night and the duct tape that you’d put there was about as useful as a broken condom.

Of course it hadn't all been good. 

The closest you’d come to killing him was when he came home one night ago and Mike was in the hallway with you, desperately trying to find out how serious your and Ben’s relationship was. Ben had come up behind you, pulled you into him with a strong hand on your waist, while his other arm wrapped gently under your neck. and had begun to kiss up and down the column of your throat while whispering things loudly that even made Mike's cheeks flush a dark crimson. You wanted to choke Ben out while you desperately tried to ignore how good it felt to be in his arms, how his beard scratched pleasantly against your skin, and how nice and warm he was. Mike had gotten the message and retreated to his apartment and to retaliate you had a key made for Ben that was bright pink and had a picture of hello kitty on it.

But you hadn't been angry enough to abandon Ben this morning when he left the apartment to take out the trash and immediately got cornered by Mike's mother on the wall beside the elevator. You opened the front door of the apartment and saw him pinned to the wall with Mike's mother's hand on Ben's chest, tracing over his muscles while saying that he reminded her of her ex-husband who seemed to keep her up all night long. When his eyes met yours, it was the closest you'd ever seen to genuine fear, and it made you laugh, because you'd seen him face down supes without batting an eye, but he was afraid of a less than five foot tall woman in a bright yellow and green mumu. An evil part of yourself wanted to leave him there as payback, to shut the door and forget about him, but you figured you owed him for fixing your sink so you helped him get away.

"I haven't checked that, but if anything they should have immortalized that apartment for posterity." Ben grins widely, his eyes awash with memories of a past long gone. "Do you have any idea what I did to-"

"Ah- no-" You put your fingers in your ears. "La la la la la."

Ben pulls out one of your fingers. "You're right, I don't need to tell you. Why don't we go back to our apartment and I can show you?" He steps closer to you, his grin dipping into a roughish smirk that makes his eyes glint with mischief.

"Oh hush." You place one hand on his chest, ignoring how good it feels under his hands and push him back. "We're here to get a couch."

"Fine. But I've got the perfect way to christen it when we get back." Ben winks.

You stare blankly at him, feigning confusion. "I didn't know you wanted to learn how to crochet that bad, but I've got enough yarn to show you when we get back."

"What?"

"I mean that is what I usually do on the couch. But don't worry, it's a lot easier than it looks." You shrug before grabbing a snake plant in a brightly colored orange pot and place it in the top part of the cart. You didn't have one at the apartment and it was supposed to make the air cleaner. Given how much weed Ben smoked, you figured the two of you could use it.

Or maybe a whole damn field of it.

You had already made the jasmine on the wall behind the t.v multiply exponentially to make up for the smell, but you didn't mind it. You'd also noticed that Ben seemed to be slowing down how much he was smoking. Whenever you went to Butcher's apartment in the past he always had a blunt, but in the past three days you'd only seen him with one a few times. You wondered why that was. Ben had told you before that it helped him with his PTSD, but you wondered what could have changed.

“You’re getting another plant?”

“Never ask me that question Gramps, not unless you want to get an ass-full of cactus.” You push the cart towards the food area intent on getting a coffee. This morning the two of you had been in a hurry and you hadn't been able to have one.

“Hello! How are you today?” The person behind the counter says with a wide smile. She was pretty, with thick light brown hair pushed back by a floral scarf and a large pair of hoop earrings.

See she took her happy pills. Now if only Ben would.

“I’m great how are you?” You smile back.

“I’m doing fantastic!” She beams. “What can I get you today?”

“Can I get a hazelnut coffee with cream and sugar please?”

“Okay." Her eyes flick back to where Ben is glowering behind you. "Does your boyfriend want anything?”

“Oh he’s not my-“ You begin to wave a hand.

“Can I get a black coffee?” Ben interrupts not bothering to correct her.

“Of course. Y’all are so cute.” She smiles typing something into her register. “You’ve got that height difference and everything.”

“No actually we’re not tog-“ You begin to say again, but Ben weaves his arm around your waist.

“Thank you.” Ben gives her a charming smile as he pulls your right hip back into his left. “We just moved in together. It’s a really big step, but I just couldn’t stay away from my girl.”

“Congratulations!”  Her eyes shift to the plant in the basket. “Aww and you guys are getting a plant. How wonderful!”

“Yeah it’s our love plant.” Your smile turns more into a snarl as you reach up and pinch Ben’s cheeks painfully between your fingers hoping that it hurts. “I’m trying to see if Benny-Wenny here can keep it alive. Because if he doesn’t then our love will die.” You say doing your best Kate Hudson impression. When you say die you emphasize the word by squeezing his cheeks again, but Ben only smiles around it, his eyes gleaming.

“Oh um- okay.” The girls smile drops just a watt sensing the tension between the two of you. “Well your total is 10.78.”

You reach for your phone preparing to use the Apple Pay function, but Ben hands the girl a twenty before you can.

“Aww and he pays too.” The girl coos looking like she’s going to swoon. “What a gentleman.”

Honey he’s about as far from a gentleman as you can imagine.

“I’m certainly going to make him.” You reply, elbowing him hard in the stomach. “Given what I have to go through.” You mutter that last part, earning a chuckle from Ben.

When you finally get your coffee you walk off, following the arrows on the ground to where the sleeper couches should be while sipping on your coffee with Ben walking next to you.

A comfortable silence builds between the two of you as you walk through the aisles, watching couples hold hands and point at dining room tables, children beg their parents for bunk beds, and teenagers play hide and seek.

One brushes past you making some of your coffee slosh over the rim of the cup onto your shirt, and continues to run, but he doesn't get far. Ben grabs the back of his shirt and hauls him back.

"Apologize." Ben growls narrowing his eyes at the kid who looks like he might cry.

"Ben it's okay-"

"I'm sorry." The boy says his eyes wide.

Ben drops him, satisfied with his answer, and the boy scampers off to his friends who all look back at Ben like he's crazy.

"You didn't have to do that." You say, wiping your finger at the stain on your white and black striped t-shirt. "He's just a kid."

"He should have apologized." Ben grunts handing you the napkin that's wrapped around his coffee.

"Thanks." You dab at the spot, but you know it won't do much use.

"The younger generation these days seems short on respect."

You snort out a laugh, balling the napkin up and toss it in a trashcan nearby. "Statements like that really age you Gramps."

"So does that fucking nickname." He sighs.

"You never told me your real name when we first met and I told you that I was going to come up with a fun nickname to call you. You can only blame yourself." You take the last sip of coffee, stepping off the path to examine a bright red couch that looks long enough for Ben to sleep on.

"What's wrong?" Ben asks.

"Huh?" You look up at him.

"You're making the face you always do when something is wrong."

You blink for a minute. Is he talking about what Annie calls my 'suffer in silence face?' How the hell does he know about that?

"I don't like the color." You say hesitantly.

"I don't either." Ben takes your empty coffee cup and throws it away with his. "What about that one?" He points at a soft black couch on the other side. It has a function that allows apart of the cushions to extend into a bed, easy to move in and out. You sit down.

"It's sort of comfy."

Ben sits down directly beside you, even though there's enough room for him to sit on the other side. "It's okay."

"What? Your butt isn't comfortable?" You tease him, elbowing him playfully.

Ben rolls his eyes at you. "Can't you take anything seriously?"

"What's the fun in that Gramps?" You sit back against the cushions. "But you're right. My butt is not pleased."

"What a shame. I'd hate for something so delicious be disappointed." Ben replies turning to look at you.

You ignore his comment. "Come on, let's go check that one."

As you go deeper and deeper into the bowels of IKEA, it begins to get colder and colder. Goosebumps pebble over your arms as you gaze down at the charcoal colored couch. You rub your hands up and down them to warm them up.

Why is it so damn cold in here? It’s not that hot outside!

More goosebumps erupt over your skin as you walk around the couch thinking that movement will help with the chill. And just as you come back around to the front of the couch, Ben’s leather jacket  drapes over your shoulders.

It’s too big for you, but you almost moan in relief as you sink into the warmth it holds. It was still warmed from Ben's body, and smelled exactly like his cologne. Something spicy and masculine that made you feel like you’d bought one of those cinnamon brooms sold around Christmastime.

You look up at him in surprise. “What about you?”

“I run hot.” He shrugs. “Plus I don't want you to turn into a popsicle.”

“Thank you.” You say too cold to argue as you put your arms through the sleeves that hang several inches past your hands.

Wow that's actually kind of sweet.

“Mhmm.” He grunts looking at the couch in front of you. “Kinda a shame though.”

“Huh?”

Ben leans back to look behind you with a mournful sigh. “It covers up your gorgeous ass.”

And he’s back.

“Why don’t you just-“

“Y/n!” You hear a familiar voice call cutting off your next words, and you turn towards it.

Jake is wheeling a cart towards the two of you, a collection of ceramic pots in his basket, waving his hand enthusiastically. “What are you doing here?” He’s smiling just as brightly at you as always, his hair swept back over his head, blue eyes filled with mirth.

“Be nice.” You mutter under your breath to Ben, who huffs in response. “Hey Jake. Ben and I were just looking at couches.”

“Couches?” Jake takes in your close proximity and the fact that you’re wearing Ben’s jacket. “Why?”

“Oh well-“

“For our apartment.” Ben says tightly, emphasizing the word 'our.' He’s frowning at Jake, eyes narrowed.

Why does he have such a problem with him?

“You guys are moving in together?” Jake looks confused, and if he clocks Ben’s rude attitude he doesn’t show it. “I thought you said that you just work together?”

“Why do you care plant boy?” Ben snaps.

“Ben!” You hiss, elbowing him hard. “I’m sorry Jake, you’ll have to excuse Gramps, he’s not used to talking to civilized people.” You turn to glare at Ben. “Why don’t you go look at that couch over there?”

“I’m comfortable here, thanks Petals.”

You continue to glare at him while Jake stands there awkwardly not sure what to say.

“Fucking fine.” Ben mutters under his breath and stomps off in the direction of a bright yellow couch that looks like it could sleep five people.

You turn back to Jake with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry-“

“It’s okay.” Jake smiles. “My sister is dating someone just like him. I’m used to it.”

I doubt she’s dating a horny 104 year old that’s been on ice for forty years and tortured in a Russian lab.

“What are you doing here?” You look down at his cart noting the ceramic planters.

"They're having a sale, thought we could use some new ones for display in the shop." Jake shrugs. "I see that you found a plant you like."

"Well you can never have too many." You smile.

"I completely agree." Jake glances over to where Ben is supposed to be trying out a brilliant yellow couch, and he is sitting on it, but he's glaring at Jake. "Um, well I guess I'll see you at work on Monday?"

"Yep I'll be there."

"Oh actually-" Jake pauses to clear his throat. "There's a plant show this weekend at the farmer's market by my apartment on Saturday morning. Did you want to come with me? It might be fun."

"Oh-um- I'm not sure. Butcher might have something to do for me to do on Saturday. And I'm sure you're plenty capable of picking out inventory." You smile at that last part. It was true, Jake always did a wonderful job of picking out plants for the shop. He'd never asked you to go with him before.

"Actually-" Jake rubs the back of his neck, cheeks flushed. "I-uh- didn't mean for inv-"

"I don't like this one Petals." Ben shouts from the other side of the room interrupting what Jake was going to say.

You turn to stare at him. He's still sitting on the brilliant yellow couch, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Jake.

He's such a toddler, can't sit still for two seconds.

You sigh and twist back to Jake. "I'm sorry he's a literal child. What were you saying?"

"I-" Jake clears his throat, smiling tightly. His eyes flick back to Ben's cold stare, before he looks back at you. "Nevermind. I'll see you at work on Monday okay?"

"Yeah okay." You hold up your hand in a wave as he turns and leaves, walking quickly away down the concrete path towards the front doors.

You stomp over to the couch where Ben is still glowering at Jake.

"I like the gray one better." Ben stands and points at the one you two had originally been standing at when Jake walked up.

"I can't believe you just did that. Why did you have to be so mean? He was just being nice, making conversation." You huff, planting your hands on your hips. "You're from the fucking '20s aren't you supposed to understand basic human decency instead of acting like a modern day fuck-boy?"

"I don't understand what that means. And I don't like him."

"Why? What has he done to make you hate him? You've barely said two words to him since you met four days ago."

"I just don't." Ben frowns at Jake's retreating figure, who does seem to be gaining some serious speed.

You couldn't blame him, Ben could look downright murderous when he wanted to. But you didn't understand why he hated Jake so much, why he couldn't stand to be around him. Jake was polite and kind, yes, two things opposite of Ben, but Jake hadn't done anything to make Ben hate him. You'd been present at both of their interactions and Jake hadn't said anything mean let alone frowned at Ben.

"He's my boss. And if we're going to be seen in public together sometimes you're going to have to try to make an effort to be nicer to him."

"Why?"

"Because I need that job Gramps! Butcher's pay sucks, and I don't have a bank account that has been gaining interest for eighty years, not to mention any money from being a supe or staring in ridiculous films. And if he fires me because of you I will send a Terminator into the past to kill your child self!" You poke him in the chest angrily, before you walk back over to the gray couch to lift the price tag up.

You try not to wince. It was a little more than what you had been prepared for, but Ben actually liked this one and he would be the one using it the most. It felt selfish to deprive him of that, especially since he'd been sleeping in a tank for the past forty years.

Maybe we should just buy him a bed for the living room and make that his room. It would be cheaper and I wouldn't have to give up name brand things. Your cheeks flush for a moment, realizing if you did that, you’d have to sit on Ben’s bed to watch tv. Oh yeah he’d love that. He would make so many jokes about how he finally got me into bed with him. Why did I agree to let him live with me again?

Ben looks at the price over your shoulder, noticing your reaction. "Don't worry about it."

"What?" You glance up at him surprised.

"I'll pay for it." Ben didn't look like he was kidding, his green eyes were focused on you, an unreadable emotion hidden behind them that you'd seen only a few times before. It was the same one that he'd had just before you left Butcher's apartment four days ago, the one Ben had when you said you were going to walk home alone, and the one that was so different than the angry or aroused one he had when he looked at you.

"No." You shake your head. "Ben that's crazy, I'm going to pay for some of it. I sit on that couch too-"

"Sorry Petals. I'm not going to let you pay for my bed." Ben smirks, and strokes his finger down your cheek. "But I'd love to have you join me in it."

You glare at him, leaning back so his hand falls from your face. "Ben I'm serious. I don't want you to have to pay for the whole thing."

"And I don't want you to pay for it."

"So you're saying that we're at a stalemate unless one of us is willing to commit a felony?"

"Why are you so against me paying for this? Are you going to yell at me again about the wonders of modern day feminism? Let me know now so I can rip my ears off in preparation."

"First of all, the outside of the ear is actually purely for show and made of cartiledge which means for you to avoid listening to me you would have to rip out the inside of your ears." You drop the finger you were holding up. "And second of all, it feels wrong because I use the couch when I crochet or when Annie and I drink wine, eat greasy pizza, and watch monster movies-"

"You guys get drunk and watch monster movies? Aren't women supposed to like sappy shit like Jane Austen?"

"I mean I love Mr. Darcy as much as anyone, but I'm not ashamed to admit my comfort movie is Jurassic Park. Something about them running around for their lives makes me feel better about mine."

Especially now that I have to deal with you all day long.

Ben blinks at you like he can't figure you out. Personally you were used to people looking at you that way.Weirdness was a privilege and you owned it, wore it like an eccentric billionaire's wife in a mink coat in the middle of summer.

"Petals." Ben says quietly, the look in his eyes shifts to something softer, something that you'd never seen before. Even the way he says the nickname is different, not the harsh way he says it or the teasing way, it's almost gentle. "I don't want you to worry about this. It's alright. I'm the one that barged in and made you let me live there. So I'm going to pay for it."

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to feel guilty. "Are you sure you're even okay with a sleeper couch? We could just get you a mattress."

"Nah. This one is comfortable." He nods his head in the direction of the gray couch.

"So what you're saying is," You smile as wide as you can poking him. "Your butt was comfy on that couch!"

Ben rolls his eyes. "Come on let's go, before Jake comes back and tries to ask you out again."

"He was not trying to ask me out, he was just being friendly." You roll your eyes at him as you take a picture of the tag, trying not to let Ben get to you.

"I hate to break this to you Petals, but that's exactly what he was doing." He replies. "I told you that he wanted to fuck you." Ben almost sing-songs.

"No he wasn't." You stop for a minute, back straightening. "Wait. Is that why you interrupted him?" You turn around so that you're looking at Ben again. "Because you thought he was asking me out?"

Wait a minute, was he trying to get Jake to leave so he wouldn't ask me out. Is that why Ben hates him so much? Because he's jealous? There's no way-

"No." Ben says it immediately, jaw tightening.

"Holy Shit. You're jealous!" You cackle.

"No I'm not."

“Ben why are you jealous? We aren’t together. We aren’t having sex-“

“We could be! And I'm not jealous of that fucking dandy."

“I don’t understand why you’re so attached to the idea of us sleeping together.“

“And I don’t understand why you're pretending to be so against it.”

"I'm not pretending and I'm not going to get into this argument with you again." You say exaggerating your frown.

"Deny it all you want Petals, but I know your tell." His eyes flick to the scrunch between your eyebrows. "So grab your stupid plant and let's go." He turns and moves to follow the arrows on the ground out towards the exit.

"Ben I'm serious, why are you jealous?" You jog to catch up with him, the cart rolling smoothly against the concrete floors.

"I'm not and I'm done talking about this with you!"

"Uh-huh. Sure." You begin to prance behind the cart. "You're jealous! You loooovvveee meee." You tease him.

Ben whirls around so fast, bending down towards you so close you can feel his breath against your lips, the teasing mood in your veins quickly shifting to something else. You're suddenly thankful that you picked a plant that didn't have the possibility of producing flowers, because they would be in full bloom. The close proximity of Ben to you made it impossible to think, not when you were inhaling his hypnotic scent with every breath, and not when his lips were only inches from yours.

Ben's mouth pulls up in a smirk as his emerald gaze locks with yours. He's so close that you can see the soft cinnamon colored freckles flecked across his cheeks and see the circle of gold in his eyes that seems to make your knees weak.

"Love doesn't have anything to do with it, doesn't have anything to do with what I want to do to you." He breathes, his voice dropping into the deep rumble that makes everything else vanish away. "And I'm not jealous of him doll. Anything that he can do to you, I can do better, longer, and harder. You just say the word, and you won't even remember him, let alone remember your own name."

You can't find the words to reply, the memory of Ben kissing you is everywhere, crackling along your skin, thrumming in your veins, and buried in your bones.

"Now come on. I want to look at bookshelves." Ben pulls back with a wide smirk, hearing your heart beat begin to kick up.

"Wait what?" Your voice sounds small when you find it.

"Your stack of books is annoying me."

"What do you mean? You mean the stack of books in my bedroom that you're never supposed to set foot in is annoying you?"

"Mhmm."

"I am perfectly capable of buying my own bookshelf thank you."

"Then why haven't you?"

"Because I had more important things to do-"

Like paying for electricity and buying cat food.

"Uh-huh. Well I don't have anything to do because all my drinking buddies died forty fucking years ago."

"You're not serious. You're not going to buy me a bookshelf." You say in shock.

Why in the fuck does he care about that? It's my room, he doesn't have to do that.

"Yes I am. That stack of books is ridiculous and pointless."

"That could be the name of my autobiography." You roll your eyes. It was a joke that Annie and you often used when you hung out together. Because what was the point of life without a little bit of self-deprecating humor?

Ben stops walking and turns around to look at you. "You might be ridiculous Petals, but you're not pointless. Don't you ever say anything like that around me ever again." He looks almost angry at the thought.

You inhale a sharp breath surprised. "Ben I wasn't being serious it's just a joke. Annie and I-"

"I don't care." He's still frowning at you. "I don't want you to make that kind of joke around me okay?"

You can't respond to that, only nod.

I have no idea what is going on.

All day Ben had been surprising you, hell, when he moved in a few days ago he surprised you. He was acting like he actually gave a shit, not just that he wanted to sleep with you, but that he genuinely wanted to be apart of your life, almost like a friend. You knew that maybe it was ridiculous to think that, but something deep down made you think it was true. That Ben really was making an effort to be better around you. But you had no idea why.

"So I'm going to buy a bookshelf no matter what you say, and you can either tell me which one to get or I'm gonna get you the ugliest son of a bitch here." Ben says smiling. "What will it be?"

You stand there looking at him, still mildly surprised, until you point at a dark brown wooden bookshelf with glass doors.

"Good. Now let's get the fuck out of here, before I grow a pussy."

A/N: Life changing trip to IKEA, because why not? Again more fluff and domestic Ben, NOT ASHAMED. But I will say that there will be a buildup to more angst and drama in a few chapters that will move the story along. I promise I have a plan for this one. And that plan includes dark and angsty things because we all know I can't seem to escape that. 😭

Thank you so much for reading!! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

Taglist:

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@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

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@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies

[inlovewithpandora]

- Too Close -

Pairing: Jealous!Tsu’tey x fem!Avatar!reader

Request: [ @teyamsbitch ] "Why are you getting so jealous of them?" "Because they are clearly all over you, that's why. w/ Tsu'tey » post. — reader was accepted alongside Jake and also passed the transfer. (Before this Tsu’tey and reader had already mated) Tsu’tey is jealous of Jake and reader friendship especially when Jake's platonic (not to Tsu’tey) touches reader, Tsu’tey gets frustrated. Reader assures him that she only wants him.

Synopsis: When Tsu’tey looks across the room and sees Jake being touchy with you for the millionth times it burns a fire of jealousy within him.

Content: angst → fluff, Tsu’tey getting jealous, reader is confused by Tsu’tey’s behavior, Tsu’tey confronts reader about his feelings, reader reassures him he’s the only one for her, cute little jealousy fic!

Author’s Note: Thank you for requesting, I hope it fulfills your expectations and that you enjoy!

- This is my first Tsu’tey fic!

Word Count: 951

Glossary: Oeyä tìyawn - My love || skxawng - idiot, moron

Extra: Requests are closed!

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"Jake, stop tickling me, you skxawng!" You shout in between laughs as you try to swat his hands away from you.

You and Jake are sitting next to each during communal dinner, and as always both of you are talking, joking, and having a good time. You both have always been close knit, but with you being accepted in the clan and having to do hours worth of training together to learn the Omatikaya ways, it has brought you even closer than before.

As Tsu'tey talks to his hunter trainees about their performance today, he looks out the corner of his eye and can see Jake with his signature smirk on his lips as he stands behind you and lightly squeezes your shoulders. The calm expression that was on his face quickly washes away and a small growl erupts from his throat. Watching the smile on your face and the way Jake can make you laugh makes him envious of the bond you both have.

“I will be back,” is all Tsu’tey says before striding over to where you and Jake stand.

“Oh my goodness, Jake, stop, seriously!” The way Jake keeps telling you jokes, your sides begin to ache and your stomach starts to hurt.

As you look upwards, you can see Tsu’tey coming toward you. “What’s up, brother?” Jake says as he goes in to greet Tsu’tey.

“Move, demon!” He scoffs, shoving Jake out of his path and walks in front of you. When you notice Tsu’tey’s ears are flattened, you realize that he’s mad about something but you don’t know exactly what yet.

“Tsu’tey, what’s wrong?” You ask, concern lacing your tone.

“Come. Now.” By the deepness of his voice, you know that he means business, so you push yourself off the ground and begin following Tsu’tey to your shared mauri.

When both of you walk inside, you close the flap behind you and walk up towards him. “‘Tey, what’s bothering you? Why are you so upset?”

“Why are you and Jake so close?” He questions, straight to the point as his tail begins to move behind him. This question has been burning inside him for weeks. He’s been wanting to bring this matter up to you, but he didn’t want to seem like he was making a big deal out of nothing. Now it’s gotten to the point where he can’t bite his tongue any further.

“Me and Jake are friends, so that means we are close.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Why not?” You ask with a raised brow. You know Jake and Tsu’tey have a sort of complicated friendship, but you also know that deep down, he likes Jake even though he isn’t fond of admitting it, so you can’t understand why he’s against both of you being friends now.

“The reason is unimportant.” He murmurs as he walks to the other side of the marui, now silently regretting even bringing up the topic. He had a reason, but admitting it was the tough part.

You follow his path, unallowing him to wiggle his way out of the conversation. “No, it is important if it’s making you so upset that you pull me away from dinner, so tell me the reason.” Tsu’tey doesn’t respond to you, he just continues walking as if your words are falling on deaf ears.

“What is it, Tsu’tey? Hm? Is it because we’re close or are you just jealous?” A small laugh comes behind the word ‘Jealous’ because you never thought your mate would ever be jealous of anyone, especially Jake, but when you see the way Tsu’tey’s body language change; how he stops in his tracks with his ears folding down to his skull, it all comes to pieces that your unknowingly suspicion of him being jealous is in fact true.

“Why are you getting jealous of Jake?” You ask him in a soft tone as you walk in front of him.

"Because he's clearly all over you, that's why!” His voice begins to escalate as a flashback reel races through his head of all the times he’s watched Jake touch you. In his mind, every touch was romantic, nothing about Jake’s touch seemed platonic in his eyes.

It all begins to make sense to you. You now understand why Tsu’tey seemed so irked with Jake’s presence lately. “Oeyä tìyawn, I promise you’re the only man I want. Jake is a nice guy, but I don’t see that skxawng as anything else but a friend.” You grab his hand and gently place it against your chest. “My heart only beats for you Tsu’tey. No one else can make me feel the way you do.”

A warmth begins to swarm Tsu’tey’s chest as your words kiss his ears. He knew that your soul was forever linked with his and that you would never look at another man with a loving stare, but to have you reassure him that he is your one and only love makes his need to be jealous slowly fade away.

“I see you, y/n.” His voice is much softer, coated with an affectionate tone as he pulls you closer to him.

“I see you, ‘tey. I always will.”

I hope you enjoyed🩷!

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[savouringmidnights]

“Three hours past midnight”

(A Xavier x Non!Mc Reader fic)

🌟 Disclaimer: If the following trigger warnings or the general genre of the fic make you uncomfortable, then please do not proceed ahead, thank you! 🌟

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

TW: Angst,

Slight implications of Lemon

Heavily written from the Reader’s perspective

🌟 Disclaimer: If the following trigger warnings or the general genre of the fic make you uncomfortable, then please do not proceed ahead, thank you! 🌟

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⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Three hours past midnight…

It is often termed by many as the witches’ hour,

Although that wasn’t the only expression you’ve come across throughout the days of your existence.

‘Devil’s hour’, ‘time of pure evil’, ‘juncture in time bridging the world of the spirits with the world of the mortals’, yada yada; were among the many.

Initially when you were little, you too would be scared of the monster underneath your bed, or the hand that would come to reach out from behind the mirror….but

Being blessed with Insomnia, you slowly learnt to co-exist among the forces.

Maybe your amity with these forces proved to be stronger than those of the universe,

Resulting in your encounter with a certain Deepspace Hunter, sleeping amongst the bushes, the earth providing him with a humble sack…

“Umm…”, your nightly stroll was successfully done for…

But being a honest samaritan, you couldn’t leave him be there…so you got down to your knees and gently shook his arm…

No response.

“Umm excuse me, mister”,

No response.

You continued your motions for several minutes, when finally tickling a leaf against his nose did the job.

“Huh…?”, his voice seemed as soft as the fluffy clouds above…

“Hello hi sorry for waking you up but…you’re literally sleeping on the grass?”

He groaned, rubbing his eyes, as he slowly stretched and sat up…

“Sorry…I got drowsy…”

You nodded sympathetically, you couldn’t relate…

“Where do you live? I can help you get there or if it’s far away you can stay the night at mine…it is 3 in the morning after all…”

“Hmm?”

“I said—”

“No I heard you…well I live few blocks away…”

“Well then…you’re welcomed to rest the night at mine…”

“…”

“…”

“As long as you’re not a criminal or robber or—”

“Xavier. Deepspace Hunter working under the Hunters’ Association.”, he cut you off speaking up.

You nod, “(Name). I work as a—”, you stop as you catch him dozing off while standing…huh…

“Wait wait wait! Don’t doze off here again!”

….

Three hours past midnight…

Your lips always curl up at the reminiscence of that night when you’d first met your now boyfriend…who would whether or whether not given the chance could fall asleep anywhere and everywhere, regardless of the consequences…

You let out a silent giggle remembering the midnight you’d confessed to him your feelings, right after several months of hangouts and meet-ups…

Upon returning back home, you’d call him like usual interrogating about his day and work…your conversation would only carry on further if he’d give you the green signal that the Wanderers weren’t annoying stressful that day…let’s say every night you got that green signal…

What would you do? You would yap on about your day, while he would listen listen listen…

“Xavi…did you fall asleep?”

“Perfectly awake my star…”

Oh did you forget to mention about the nickname he’d given you….the one that made you believe you were celestial…

you would internally squeal each time he would call you so…

Anyways…so after you were done going on about his and yours day…you let out the buildup inside your heart…

“Xavi…I need to tell you something…”

“Anything my star…I’m all ears…”

“I think…”

“I think I’ve fallen for you…fallen in too deep…”

And it was true…you were far gone…

Silence coursed through the call…you tensed…did you mess up?

“X-Xavier…?”

*tring*

The call died…

So did a big part inside of you…

Had you messed up that bad…you just wanted to confess to him…just—

*Knock. Knock. Knock.*

You looked through the peephole, before opening

“Xavier—mmf…”

He kissed you…the kiss that made you feel the energy of a million stars…

….

Three hours past midnight…

He was so silly

He was so soft

He was so sweet

He was so yours…

Looking up at the ceiling, as your eyes trail back to his sleeping form on the right side of your bed…the one which had become his second favorite spot for slumber.

Who would be able to tell apart such a peaceful and innocent face that he was one of the most skilled Deepspace Hunters of the Association…

Yet he possessed his weaknesses, he couldn’t get a single plushie from the Arcade and which would always leave him frustrated every time you had Arcade dates…his insistence surpassed your advices everytime, deeming the same result each time…

To calm him down? All it took was a soft kiss on the cheek, and a few words of affirmation.

Of course he knew you were an insomniac and he’d worry his pretty head about you each night, so he thought he should make you some hot milk, maybe it would help you…

He was super insistent…and all you could do was pray…pray that your kitchen lives to see the light of the upcoming day…

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“The milk wasn’t supposed to spill all over, now was it Xavi?”

“…”

“…No…”

You sigh as the both of you clean up the disaster that was now your kitchen…

“This is the reason why I tell you to not touch anything in a kitchen…but who listens to me…you even burned yourself Xavier! What am I to do to you—”

Your words died out, as you felt warmth settle around your waist, holding you securely in place…

“You have no right to scold me my star…I was only looking out for you…”

Kisses glide down your neck traversing towards your shoulders, as if dew drops trickling down a leaf stalk…

….

Three hours past midnight…

Strong arms lift you up in bridal style carrying you to the haven you two had built within those four walls of your bedroom…

“Mm… *kiss* Xavi… *kiss* the kitch- *kiss*”

“It will survive…now I want your entire attention on me…”, that was your man…always jealous of the little things in your life, whenever you’d value them more than him…how dare you…

He was so gentle, so soft so fluffy looking…he played the innocence card very strategically using his face…who could tell otherwise right? But you knew…you knew he was anything but pure…

Flopping you down onto your bed, his mouth crashed against yours once more, his tongue soon finding homage inside of the warm cavern of the inside of your mouth while his hands carry out their own artistic endeavour down all over your body…finally reaching their destination once he pulls down the straps of your night-dress ever so delicately, the cold breeze of the outside creeping through your skin from outside you closed off windows…His other hand continue it’s exploration down to your thighs, spreading then apart, as he massages them…

Soft sinful moans of pleasure spill out of your lips as your hands secure around his neck…but your lips never leave his, as if caught up in a deadlock…You palms slowly descend down to his shirt, unbuttoning each hastily and carelessly…you needed him…his own hands soon join helping you discard the fabrics which constrained both your bodies…

He broke the kiss to breathe, breathe for the both of you for you had forgotten what perception was, being so lost within each new sensation provided to you by him…the ecstasy that made you feel one with the Earth…

Had you confided within yourself, how much illumination your Light Evolver brought into the dark nights of your soul? You two were the pinnacle of the famous saying ‘opposites attract’. Your beliefs of the Earthly forces being ever so stronger than those of the Universe proved to grow stronger…you didn’t want anything that transcended you to the beyonds…all you wanted was to become one with the Earth, the absolute holism he brought upon your life…Opposites yet so alike…. ‘He was Sunshine while you were Midnight Rain…’

a melody as grounded and pure as Nature herself…

….

Three hours past midnight…

Who would have known Fate, Herself would descend down upon the Earth, directly into the new beginning of your chapter, pulling her strings to work…

You met her today…she was a relatively new Hunter who had joined only a month ago…yet her skills knew no bounds…

She was honeyed like the warm breeze during the Spring,

She was as fresh as a newly bloomed delicate flower—as charismatic as the Golden Hour of the Evening…

She had made you drawn to her with just one conversation…

How did you meet? Well you used good friends with Tara from before she joined at the Association she wouldn’t stop gushing about her partner and her talent…that’s how sweet she was…

But one thought which kept gnawing it’s way through your heart and mind was…

‘How come Xavier never told me about her…he does tell me of everything about his day and work…’

Not like he was bound to or anything to you…no…

Maybe they aren’t close enough, yet.

but…you couldn’t figure out the unsettling feeling that started blooming inside of your heart…

Where did you meet? A few evenings back, at Destiny Cafe.

….

Three hours past midnight…

They get paired up for almost every mission, or he would suggest he should accompany her. Their bond seemed to be strengthening, it was a good thing…you always wanted your boyfriend to get along with his colleagues as well as possible…

He has become busier than ever…

Weeks pass, so does a month…everything begins so gradually. The calls start to become less, so do the texts…Dates cease to exist, he doesn’t come over anymore…

There was always one reason…

“I’m sorry my star I’m too tired after today’s mission, cannot keep my eyes open for too long…”

“Miss U.”

“Promise U will meet up soon later…”

Promises, promises so many promises, piled up, stack after stack, all of them failed to get executed…

Still you hold onto them…

hold onto something hollow…

….

Three hours past midnight…

You lay up alone in your bed, basking in the coldness of your epiphany…

What epiphany you ask? It was the sudden illumination, forcefully introduced by the universe into the warm darkness of your nights…

You were at Destiny Cafe this evening, for a cup of coffee, where you saw the two of them together. Maybe they were discussing about a mission? Maybe status reports of the previous day? How come he didn’t tell you he’d be out…you’d texted him earlier…

He said he was busy. Busy for you, but not for her…when will he come to visit next? All sorts of thoughts seemed to clutter up together inside of your mind…

…They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul…is that why when you saw his, your whole world suddenly seemed to come to stop? You cannot explain the warmth and color that emerged from the depths, of his being.

The empty galaxy within his eyes get slowly suffused with constellations of stars.

Each one holding a significant message.

Every time she would talk or chat or speak…

It was nothing like you’d ever witnessed or experienced first hand.

Were you overthinking? Or were you just devoid of thoughts?

….

Three hours past midnight…

Time was eternal yet relative, is that why it seemed to loop along the curvature of the broken record player that you’d been reduced to, ever so slowly? Each day had become a realisation factor of the equation the two of them seemed to hold out to you, for you to solve…Alas you were only a writer, so you phrased them using your thread of words, sewing pages upon pages, until the fabric of reality was ready to be worn by you…

You witnessed the way she’d transformed the barren planet of his heart (which you never knew existed) with the beautiful blossoms of life, colour and seasons. The love he held behind his eyes for her was cosmic…as if it has been deep-rooted throughout centuries waiting for the perfect moment to be poured out and the moment was now. You saw how perfectly the colors of his soul blended with hers, every hue and gloss intermingling with one another ever so perfectly, as if it was meant to be…

You’d lost track of the time since he stopped calling you ‘his star’, you weren’t that, never, it was all a hoax…you were a ‘failed star’. You never knew much about how the forces of the universe functioned, forever afraid of the flight that may crash you down upon the rough hard ground of reality, hence you’ve always been too grounded to Earth, in that way gravity could never hurt you anymore right?

But now that you saw them, it was as if seeing the cosmos was celebrating the union of the souls, without whom She had been so long shrouded within the darkness of the nights…

The darkness which you’d (once) embraced and loved.

….

Three hours past midnight…

You’d drank a lot tonight.

You hated her.

Hated her guts, for stealing the light of your life.

You hated the fact that you could simply and truly never loathe her and her friendship…and how significant they had shaped to be in your life…

You hated the fact that you were one with the dark nights.

You hated the audacity of Fate to mingle with the strings of your life as if it were Her story.

You hated that you had to be forced in the concept of ‘Soulmates’.

You hated how the two of them were the epitome of that meaning.

You hated how their existence even surpassed the Metaphysical realm of beliefs.

“You hated how you longed for your forgotten trysts.”

“You hated every fatal fantasy that creeped through your mind.”

“You hated how you’ve done each of them with him all in your head.”

“You hated how it paved the way to your laboured breaths, every night.”

You hated how he would not even remember you anymore or have the minute decency to even call you up or text you.

You hated because you knew it wasn’t true, and the amount of times he’d tried to reach out before it all faded to the point of exhaustion.

You hated how you dissociated yourself from their lives, letting them live as the Universe had wished for.

You hated how his voice would ring in your ears every morning, day, evening and night and all you could do was weep…weep and weep…

You hated how you often you weeped in the coldness of your bed, alone with no one to hold onto.

You hated that your bed wasn’t his second favorite place of slumber any longer, but it was her apartment.

You hated how you’ve lost track of time.

You hated how you longed to understand the ways of the cosmos.

You hated how you wanted to run to him and cry to his chest.

You hated how you wanted yourself to be selfish.

You hated how you wanted him to be happy.

You hated how you wanted to pour yourself out to him, how you wanted to hear along the lines that you were mistaken, utterly mistaken…that he was still yours…that he loved you…

You hate how half of you was still living with a fool’s paradise, embracing every wishful thinking clutching them close to the chambers of your heart so they couldn’t escape…

You hated how the other half was ever so rational, and had achieved it’s closure.

You hated how you’d made him your North Star…but the poles of your World were never a reality.

You loathed how perfectly they fit against each other as if two puzzle pieces, that gave Love and the Deepspace it’s fundamental significance.

….

Three hours past midnight…

You had officially lost the ability of a writer of the story of your life…being reduced to merely a narrator of your own chapters, forced to narrate yourself and only yourself while Fate played with the Story of your Life…

Once again it has been proved that the auspicious forces always stood victorious over the malevolent ones…you remembered the famous saying,

‘History repeats itself, First as a Tragedy, Second as a Farce…’

How foolish of you to believe that the forces of the Universe emerged victorious for they were superior and coerced the other inferior…

How foolish of you to believe in the false amity of these forces you’d been long acquainted with…

The monster underneath your bed re-emerged, so did the hand reaching out to you from behind the mirror…

but they weren’t there to hurt you, they were there to comfort you while you pathetically weeped over the love which you never had.

They felt pity, watching you clutch onto your pillow every night and ‘the planet shaped purple promise rings that you never had the chance to gift to him’…, head buried on his side of the bed, drenching your bed-sheets which used to be once ablaze in his presence…

But you pushed them away…far far away…

It was three hours past midnight…

And you were finally feeling drowsy…

Sleepy…

You wanted to sleep, and sleep and sleep…

It was three hours past midnight…

When you had finally succumbed to the slumber that drowned you into the land of illusions…

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(Credits: ALL GIFs AND IMAGES ARE FROM EITHER PINTEREST OR TUMBLR, NONE OF THEM ARE MINE.)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

(Inspirations from the songs: Midnight Rain and Guilty as Sin by Taylor Swift.)

[aurorawritestoescape]

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller

Tw: 18+ mdni smut, mfm, power imbalance (boss/employee), ‘sir’ kink, praise kink, tiniest bit of degradation, oral (f/m receiving), cum eating, unprotected piv (wrap it up obv), creampie, rimming, multiple orgasms, butt slapping (light), voyeurism, swearing, no use of y/n

Word count: 3,2k

A/n: thank you @noxturnalpascal 💖 for an amazing idea to write fics based on this PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW)

I added Tommy to the mix cos what’s better than one Miller boy? Yeah, two Miller boys😝

Other fics based on the prompt: Room 301 @milla-frenchy Dancing is a dangerous game @noxturnalpascal Webcam for beginners @iamasaddie

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

You’ve been doing stripping as a side job for a few months now. As a postgrad student you were broke and in debt. You needed money to help out with the tuition, which was unbearably high. On top of that your car broke down and you’ve been trying to save for a new one. One of your friends who’d done it told you that the money was good and the hours were flexible. So you decided to give it a shot.

The gig turned out to be great. You were often tipped generously and though the men were usually drunk and overly excited you’ve been lucky enough to be treated fairly well. They called you Diamond because of your sparkling silver costume and glittering boots.

Today you are shining at a birthday party. It’s a total sausage fest and everyone is excited about the headliner - you. The men are cheering you on as you’re giving your best lap dance to the man of the evening. The music is blaring while you are slowly taking off your sparking top before pushing your breasts together and swaying your hips seductively. You’re still wearing high silver boots and a tiny diamond-encrusted thong.

Everyone is already buzzed. Everyone except the birthday boy. He doesn’t seem to be drunk at all as his dark piercing eyes are sliding across your glitter-covered body with intent and hunger. Sometimes he gives his friends a little smile and laughs at their thirsty comments. But when his gaze returns to you his expression becomes focused and serious, one of a hunter whose unsuspecting prey is inching closer and closer, as he’s waiting for the right moment to strike. There is something hypnotizing about the man and you feel the magnetic pull every time your eyes meet.

You want him to want you. And judging by a big bulge in his jeans you’re doing great. You’re practically drooling over him as your hands are gliding over his broad shoulders, strong chest, running through his dark curly hair. After some time you see only him, and your heart flutters and core burns with desire.

You’re hovering over his lap, his face inches from your bouncing breasts as your hips move the way you’d ride him and your hands are holding onto his muscular shoulders. He wants to say something to you so you lean down bringing your ear to his plush lips. His breath tickles you and you giggle.

“Can I get a private dance?” he asks a little louder so you could hear him through the music. He tilts his head to the side to look into your eyes. He’s gorgeous. Older, just how you like them. A scent of whiskey and something sweet hits your nostrils and you feel yourself getting wet. Your pussy tingles and you both decide to give this guy whatever he wants tonight. You smile at him nodding your head, maybe a little too eager.

🪩🪩🪩

That’s how you end up on your knees in the VIP room, fully naked between his spread legs, his cock deep in your throat. You’ve never done anything like that with a client but you just couldn’t help yourself. You would be fired in a second if anyone found out but you feel that he’s not the one to kiss and tell. His body, his eyes, his confidence drive any rational thought away from your mind.

When you were sitting on his lap having discarded your thong and boots and framing his legs with yours, your pussy was throbbing so much for him it hurt. You rested your head on his shoulder, turned to him and whispered in his ear, “You can touch me if you want”.

He chuckled and asked if he was allowed to but his fingers were already caressing your glistening seam. A few moments later he was fucking you with his thick digits, his tongue licking into your mouth. He knew his way around a pussy and you came hard, making a mess of his jeans.

Now you are sucking on his ball rolling it in your mouth with your tongue and slowly jerking his cock. His jeans are opened and tugged down his hips, your hand is splayed on his lower belly covered with soft hair. He’s watching you with a soft smile, half lidded eyes blown and hazy. You’re enjoying yourself so much you feel you might come untouched just from sucking him off.

That’s when HE barges into the room apologizing for being late. You hear the gravelly voice and your heart drops into your stomach. You freeze glancing up at the birthday boy with horror on your face. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!!!! Fuck! You recognise that voice immediately. You raise your head before glancing back. Of course it’s him! The father of the girl you’ve been babysitting for a few weeks. You always loved kids so babysitting seemed like a great idea. Well, until now when two of your clients met.

Joel Miller was always kind and respectful yet a little grumpy. You never blamed him, a single parent who worked very hard to provide his daughter with the best life. He was a great father judging by how well adjusted and happy Sarah was.

He doesn’t look grumpy now. With his mouth agape, he’s staring at the two of you and mumbles, “Fuck, Tommy.” He raises one brow and runs a hand through his dark hair in a nervous gesture. His black T-shirt rides up showing a slither of his soft stomach and a happy trail. Suddenly you remember all the times he would come home sweaty and hot from working outside all day and you bite your lip.

You’re used to being naked in front of strangers so it takes you a minute to realize you need to cover yourself up.

“Oh my god, Mr Miller. Fuck.. I’m so sorry,” you get up looking around for anything to put on. Of course there’s nothing except your tiny thong and the boots so you just place your hands awkwardly on your mound and breasts and stand between Mr Miller and ‘Tommy’, whose cock is still out and hard. He’s not putting it away, just sits there proudly. Your eyes are darting between the two men.

“You’re interrupting, bro,” Tommy says with a nonchalance in his voice. Now it’s your time to be surprised because the man looks almost bored.

Joel visibly collects himself and comes up to you.

“I see that,” he says, looking you up and down and then turning to his brother, “Do you know that you’re getting head from my babysitter?”

Joel looks back to you and brushes your arm with his big warm hand. You shiver at the touch.

“No shit! Babysitter?” Tommy sits up, finally expressing some interest. Joel hums and his brother chuckles and leans back again, holding his still hard cock in his hand, “Got yourself a new one?”

“Yeah… and I seemed to hit the jackpot,” Joel replies with a little smile but his eyes on you are darker, hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. Your skin erupts in goosebumps and you feel yourself like a bunny circled by hungry wolves.

“Mmm.. Mr Miller, I can explain,” you stutter nervously, standing there like a school girl being scolded by a headmaster. You want to tell him that you don’t usually walk around sucking your clients off but Joel interrupts you, “No need to explain anything, sweetheart. Work is work. You did nothing wrong.”

His deep smooth voice makes your clit twitch and you almost gasp when he cups your cheek and lowers his face closer to yours, “I know you’re a good girl.”

“And full of surprises,” Tommy adds with a smirk looking at you almost differently, with more intrigue in the gaze and his cock twitches in his hand.

You glance up at Joel and his eyes slide to your lips and yours do the same. Your mouths are so close you’re breathing each other's air. His thumb is rubbing your cheek. Suddenly you jerk when Tommy coughs interrupting whatever is happening between you and your employer. Joel straightens up and his hand leaves your face.

“Ya know what,” he says walking to the chair across the room, placing it a couple meters away from you and taking a seat, “Don’t stop on my account.”

Your jaw drops and you freeze, hardly believing your own ears.

“You heard him, baby. We don’t need to stop,” Tommy repeats his brother's words as your shock is being replaced by excitement.

You hesitate at first but the idea of sucking a guy off when his brother is watching is so filthy that the burning in your core reignites again and you feel yourself gush.

You drop your arms exposing yourself to the men, come up to Tommy again and retake your previous position on your knees between his legs. You take his cock from him and turn your head back to Joel. His legs are spread, big hand resting on his inner thigh as he’s watching you.

You swallow loudly and turn back to Tommy. He must have read the anxiety on your face as he takes your chin between his fingers and gives you a warm smile.

“Don’t be shy, baby. My brother just wanna watch. Let’s give him something to remember when you come babysit for him next time.”

You bite your lip and drop your head, completely flustered. It can’t be happening. It feels like a weird wet dream. But you see this gorgeous weeping cock in your hand and your mouth salivates. Also you would be lying if you said that you didn’t fantasize about Mr Miller bending you over his kitchen counter after your shift and fucking you senseless. So you bend down and kitten-lick Tommy’s fat tip. The man shamelessly moans and your pussy tingles at the sound.

You hear Joel’s groan as he must be having a great view of your ass and pussy. The depravity of the situation makes your mind hazy and you arch your back wiggling your ass a little, aching to be touched again. Your hand leaves Tommy’s balls, which you were caressing, and snakes down to your naked mound. You rub yourself there and then dip your fingers between your wet folds. A pathetic whimper escapes your lips, muffled by Tommy’s cock, and he twitches against your tongue, stimulated by the vibrations.

“I think my naughty babysitter needs some attention, little brother,” Joel rumbles behind you and you hear a creak of the chair and his heavy steps.

Parting from Tommy’s cock with a pop you turn your head and see Joel getting down on one knee next to you. You’re leaning on Tommys thighs, your elbows on his knees.

“You’ve been so good to my brother, sweetheart,” Joel says in a gentle voice, putting his hand on your back. You feel his calloused palm sliding down to your ass and then coming back up to your shoulder blades. “Has he made you come, baby?”

You nod your head staring up at him with slightly parted mouth. You still can’t believe you’re naked in front of the man you’re babysitting for and his brother. With the latter's precum on your lips.

“I’m a gentleman, Joel,” Tommy chimes in sounding offended. He glides his fingers along your neck, “Ladies always come first.”

Joel smirks and leans closer to your face not minding the stiff length of his brother just inches from you both and whispers in your ear, “Ya want another one?”

He presses his lips to your cheek and kisses you before they travel down to your jaw and neck. He grabs a fistful of your hair and holds you in place as he starts sucking a hickey into the delicate skin of your neck. You shut your eyes with a needy moan and tilt your head back for him.

“Don’t damage the goods, Joel”, Tommy jokes and the degrading remark sends you further into the depths of arousal.

“Please, make me come, Mr Miller,” you plead and both brothers seem to love it. Joel’s groaning against your neck, as Tommy takes his cock from you and begins jerking his shaft.

Joel parts from you and you feel him gently pushing your head down. You follow his wordless command, lowering your face to his brother's crotch.

Joel guides you and when you open your lips he impales your mouth on Tommy’s cock.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck on it, sweetie, give my brother the best birthday present.”

Joel brushes the hair away from your face and watches you work Tommy’s cock for some time. His eyes are glued to your every move, every bob of your head, every swipe of your tongue around Tommy’s tip. The younger brother is holding your head on the other side and rhythmically raising his hips slowly fucking your mouth.

All this time Joel’s touch doesn’t leave you, he caresses your head, rubs your back and sides, until his hand snakes to your front and he grabs your breast and twitches your nipple. Your slick is dripping down your legs now and you can’t take it anymore.

With your lips still wrapped around Tommy’s cock, you turn slightly to Joel and glance up at him. He’s panting, his half lidded eyes are clouded with arousal. He reads your expression and, not being able to control himself any longer too, he orders, “Get up, sweetheart. But keep sucking.”

You do as you’re told, placing your feet on the floor and standing up still keeping Tommy in your mouth. Joel gets up with a groan and walks behind you.

“Mr Miller’s gonna take good care of you, baby,” Tommy promises with a smirk and holds your arm to keep you steady in a new position. “Make sure she moans around my dick, bro,” he says louder and Joel hums in response.

“I know how to take care of a girl, little brother, don’t worry,” Joel quips, standing behind you as his clothed hard-on is pressed to your ass. You feel his fingers squeeze your cheeks and he gives you a light slap. You jerk and Tommy flinches, as your mouth moves on his cock a little too roughly. Joel chuckles and Tommy scolds him,

“Be gentle, Joel, she’s got a mouth full of my cock.”

Joel laughs but his next movements are careful and soft. His big hands glide along your sides and down to your ass again, rubbing your skin and making you clench around nothing. You wiggle your butt a little in invitation and he reads your signal.

“Look at her, Tommy. Can’t wait to be fucked by my fat cock while sucking on another dick… ahh..she’s gonna get a glowing recommendation from me.”

Both men laugh and you feel your pussy ache even more when they’re talking about you as if you’re not there and you place your feet further apart. “Ya wanna come on my cock, sweetheart, or my mouth?” Joel asks and you hastily part from Tommy and breathe out, “Cock, sir.”

“Fuck, baby,” Joel rumbles and you hear him unbuckling his belt and discarding it on the floor. You expect him to pierce you with his member any second now but you hear shuffling and then his warm lips kiss your pussy from behind. You gasp and Tommy smiles, gently pressing your head back down, “She’s like a little doe, so easy to spook.”

You lick the underside of the younger brother’s cock while Joel is behind you, peppering your pussy with open mouth kisses. Then his tongue slips between your folds and travels from your clit to your entrance. He spreads your pussy with his thumbs and your core burns with desire. You’re completely exposed, and you whine remembering that it’s Joel Miller who is about to make you fall apart while you’re blowing his brother. Joel’s movements are sure and effective and very soon your belly and thighs are trembling with an upcoming orgasm.

Mr Miller surprises you again when his tongue glides up to your asshole and he gives it a kiss after spreading your cheeks. You moan loudly not being afraid to be heard as the music is still blaring behind the closed door.

Tommy and Joel hear you well though and the oldest brother parts from your ass to lightly slap your cheek, getting your attention, “Ya like it, sweetheart? Will you let Mr Miller fuck your asshole with his tongue?”

“Yeah,” your whine, the sound muffled by cock. You roll your eyes in ecstasy and Tommy lifts your head by the hair a little to see the results of his brother’s actions on your face. Meanwhile Joel is licking your tight ring as his fingers rub circles on your throbbing clit. When he points his tongue at your little hole and starts poking it moving it deeper little by little you almost sob from the pleasure and lose your rhythm. You can’t concentrate on sucking any longer so Tommy pulls you off his cock.

“Hold it wide for me, baby” he commands, keeping you face above his red swollen tip and you do as you’re told, darting out your tongue. Your whimpers and moans fill the room accompanied by the squelching sounds of Tommy jerking his cock and Joel’s slurping on your tight hole.

Tommy’s eyebrows are furrowed and his gaze runs over your face, breasts and then your ass, being eaten out by his brother. The view takes him over the edge and he shoots his cum on your chin, lips and tongue. You close your mouth around his tip and drink everything he’s giving you. When Tommy pats your hand, you part from him and rest your head on his thigh, inches from his semi hard cock.

Joel gets up with a grunt and you finally feel his tip nudging at your dripping entrance. He impales you on his cock in one swift move and you scream when his tip hits your cervix. He’s big and your pussy aches trying to accommodate his thick length. You close your eyes and focus on the way his cock is gliding inside you, rubbing your sweet spot. A couple more thrusts and your whole body is shaking, ecstasy coursing through your veins, clit twitching and walls contracting. Your juices flow around Joel’s cock and he groans, “Yeah, good girl.. Fuck, squeeze Mr Miller’s cock.”

He begins thrusting into you vigorously and Tommy keeps you in place holding you tight while his brother starts pumping you full of his hot cum. Joel’s rough hands are gripping your hips leaving handprints on your skin while his cock is squirting seed deep into your pussy.

“Doing so good, baby,” Tommy coos at you, while you're nothing but a trembling shaking mess. He’s watching you both unravel and his cock twitches.

When your climax subsides and Joel stills and pulls out, you fall on your knees between Tommy’s legs.

Both men help you up and Joel puts you like a rag doll on Tommy’s lap. You feel Joel’s cum leak out of you on his brother’s jeans.

You lean on the chest of the birthday boy resting your head on his broad shoulder, completely spent, drunk on endorphins and the depravity of what you’ve just done. Tommy lights up a cigarette as Joel gathers your clothes and boots and comes up to the two of you. He hands them to you and then caresses your cheek with a thumb giving you a warm smile,

“I’ll see you on Monday, sweetheart. Bring your costume.”

You smile back with a nod and he leaves.

🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩🪩

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!💖

Tag list: @missannwinchester @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @nervousmumbling

I’d love to rec the fics that have been feeding my obsession with the Miller brothers combo! Check them out if you haven’t yet!♥️🥵

The Wrong Way @romana-after-dark

Leopard Print @toxicanonymity

Stuffing @toxicanonymity

At the Table @toxicanonymity

Liquid Gold @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Two Hands to Hold @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Too Depraved 4 TV @bonezone44

Smack My B*tch Up @milla-frenchy

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 17: Blade x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4368

Warnings: Afab!reader, size difference, age difference, camgirl, voyeur, caught watching, sex toy (dildo), masturbation, spanking as punishment, a little hint of (forced) age play, infantilization, passing mention of pacifiers, cock warming (in mouth), Blade being a strict yet also perverted grandpa

A/N: Very excited about this one, personally 🤭 This is a little gift I wanted to do for a friend, you know who you are ❤️ and I hope you enjoy the fic!

⭐

It is in a rare moment of clarity that the man currently known as Blade finds himself wandering down the winding corridor of the ship. Elio’s ship. No, that wasn’t quite right. This is the Stellaron Hunters ship. 

Even if it technically belonged to their largely elusive leader, this was still a neutral safehaven for everyone in their merry little band of wanted criminals and the vast majority of it was considered communal property. He had every right to be here just as any of them did even if the only things he owned in it were the clothes on his back and his sword. 

Except — glancing up from his thoughts, Blade abruptly realizes he’s made his way into the hallway where the girls’ rooms were located. In all actuality he shouldn’t have been here. Not because of any rules or regulations, or even because any one of them had told him not to, but due to his personal boundaries and respect for their space. His own hardly used room was on the opposite side of the ship for a reason, and something he’d insisted on so as not to intrude on the daily routines or general comfortability of the fairer sex. 

Silver Wolf thought him old fashioned for it and called him names he didn’t fully understand the meaning of. 

Kafka had found it rather amusing, laughing that slow, drawling chuckle she does when something has managed to tickle her funny bone in earnest. 

Firefly even told him once that it was sweet of him to show them such consideration, though he knew not how that made any sense. It was only customary for men to give women their privacy, wasn’t it? 

And you … 

Slowing to a halt in the middle of the hallway, just a few paces down from your door, Blade abruptly realizes that that was what he was doing on this side of the hull. 

He’d felt compelled to see you and at this time of night it seemed likely he’d have better luck looking for you here than anywhere else. Clearly he hadn’t thought that through all the way though, otherwise he wouldn’t have suddenly found himself standing between Silver Wolf’s room and Kafka’s like some sort of creeping midnight wraith. If one of them caught him skulking around like this would they be upset with him? Would they look at him with suspicion and question his motives for being out in what was by all accounts their hallway at this late hour? 

Feeling a self conscious prickle start up at the base of his spine, Blade begins to turn so he can creep back the way he’d come from but a frustrated groan behind Silver Wolf’s door stops him in his tracks. He hesitates a moment before shuffling closer to just bring his ear up to listen. It’s badly muffled through the barrier and he can’t quite make out what it is she’s saying, but he could surmise that she must have been laying into someone rather colorfully through her headset. Gaming, no doubt. 

Straightening back up, the man currently known as Blade carefully considers the situation laid out before him. Young Silver Wolf was clearly much too preoccupied to notice his presence and Kafka was in all likelihood probably asleep by now, wearing her favorite eye mask to ensure she got a good night's rest. And if he recalled correctly, Firefly was off at the moment doing something at Elio’s request which only left … 

Silently turning on his heel again, he continues his onward trek past the line up of doors until he reaches yours down by the end of the corridor. His hand comes up to deliver a curt knock but this, too, gives him pause. If you were trying to sleep he didn’t want to disturb your rest or potentially frighten you, having someone unexpectedly rapping their knuckles at your door like that. So he murmurs your name instead, speaking only as loud as he thinks he needs to for you to hear him. 

For a long stretch of seconds he gets no response whatsoever and he soon decides that you must be tucked into bed already. Breathing out a terse sigh through his nose, he once again starts to turn and retrace his steps only for an odd little noise filtering through the door to give him pause. A quiet mewl that rises in pitch at the tail end before fading out with a threadbare rattle, by the sounds of it. How odd. Were you in pain? 

He stands there for another moment longer, just listening, until he at last catches that same breathy exhale again. Although he isn’t quite sure what to make of it, his thoughts meandering through a variety of possibilities that seem increasingly unlikely to him, he still ultimately decides that this warranted further investigation. After all, if you were in some sort of distress it would be wrong for him to ignore it. 

It’s not exactly curiosity that urges him closer to your door nor is it for entirely selfless reasons of magnanimity either. The insistent tug he feels in his chest to see you in one of his fleeting moments of cognizance is much more pressing than anything else, the rest just a convenient excuse as he turns his ear to listen. He says your name again, no louder than before, and still you do not respond. 

Carefully, Blade reaches for your doorknob and just tests its give. It almost registers as surprising when he finds it unlocked but he doesn’t stop long enough to question it. Barely turning it enough to ease the inner latch open, he pushes in only so far as to create a hair's breadth sliver of a crack which is where he bends his head to once again listen. 

A soft but insistent rustling noise. Another throaty sound. The soft click of something wet and warm, and welcoming that sends a dull spark of recognition racing through his mind. 

He doesn’t outright understand what it is he’s hearing but it’s as if some long dormant, primal part of his brain that is more beast than man recognizes it for what it is. His pulse quickens ever so slightly underneath his collar and he slowly works the door further open until he can peek around the edge of it. 

At first all he can make out is your empty bed and the resounding darkness that shrouds this side of the room. The other half is faintly lit by a dull glow that flickers just ever so slightly around the edges. He almost doesn’t do it, fully aware that it was not only rude but also highly inappropriate for a man to intrude on a woman’s private space in such a way, and yet he can’t quite seem to fight the compulsion to inch his way in to stand just inside your room, peering over at the corner and the source of that incandescent light. 

To his mild pang of surprise, you’ve got a small desk set up along the far wall with a custom built laptop open that looks to be of Silver Wolf’s creation, if he had to guess. The screen emits enough light for him to make out the immaterial shapes of all the bits and baubles you’ve collected over the years lined up in apparent disarray around the computer. Odd little cartoon cat figures which he knew Firefly to be equally enamored with, an old Clockie stuffed toy, various good luck charms and bracelets, a girlish jewelry stand, a stack of magazines and a small collection of perfume bottles lined up in some semblance of order. 

It does not leave him with an impression of someone who is on the IPC’s most wanted list, but rather it reminds him that despite everything else you were still just a girl. 

His girl. 

No. A girl who reminded him a bit too much of another girl he’d known several lifetimes ago for him to pretend like he didn’t see the similarities. 

And in front of all that clutter and the evidence of the person you are when you weren’t chasing down Stellaron’s with them, you’re sitting in a cushiony, pink fur lined chair with both feet propped up on the table, bracketing the softly humming laptop. For an extended moment Blade has no reasonable idea what you’re doing, registering only that your socks were mismatched, the rest of your legs bare and that your arm was restlessly moving in the space between your thighs. 

But then his gaze focuses in on the glowing screen and all at once he understands what’s happening. 

You’ve got the computer's webcam aimed at you in such a way that it records a close up shot of your lower half while the rest of you was largely obscured by the creeping darkness around you, effectively veiling your face from any clear identification. The feedback shows your pussy spread open around a thick, phallus shaped toy that heavily slides in and out of you in time with the flex of your hand. Those noises he’d heard suddenly make complete and total sense, as do the breathy little sounds you’re quietly making, and he feels suddenly warm with that knowledge. 

He knows he really shouldn’t be violating your privacy like this, like some kind of shameless voyeur, but … his attention shifts to the sidebar of the screen where a fast moving series of messages seemed to be coming in, one right after another. Were you streaming this for the entire cosmos to see? 

Something about that manages to truly shock him, and his chest expands with the sharp little breath he sucks in. It’s a small miracle that you don’t hear it and catch him red handed, but you’re evidently much too focused on working that toy inside you to be aware of much of anything else at the moment. And for a harrowingly long stretch of moments, the man currently known as Blade just stands there and watches you in transfixed disbelief. 

It’s hard to say if it’s just his age showing, great as it was especially when compared to yours, or if it’s the instinctive draw he felt towards you, that deeply rooted urge to protect even when you didn’t conceivably need to be protected, but he feels somehow angry about this. Not because of any potential security threats posed by your actions when he knew Silver Wolf would have taken care to ensure the computer and its signals couldn’t be easily traced. Nor is it even because of the fact you seem to be taking a great deal of pleasure in exposing yourself like this and getting off to a rapt audience of strangers, although that does bother him too a little bit. 

More than anything he finds that it’s the very notion, simple as it was, that other men were looking at you in such a vulnerable and exposed state of undress. That they were watching you, talking to you, making dirty comments at you and fisting their damned cocks while thinking about you. It was illogical that this should cause such a violent sense of unrest in his body when you weren’t actually his no matter how much he looked at you as if you were, but he can’t seem to wrangle it back under control now that it was swelling within him. 

He wasn’t exactly mad, at least not at you. Ticked off was probably the more accurate description and he doesn’t even attempt to hide it as he side steps further into the room so he can swing the door shut with an attention grabbing bang. 

You jolt so hard your chair seems in danger of tipping over when you bolt upright to twist around, looking over your shoulder at him with wide, startled eyes. For a moment you don’t seem to know how to react or even fully process the fact he’s standing there, but then your expression ever so slowly morphs into one of great confusion. 

“Blade? What are you doing in here?” 

“I came to see you but you didn’t answer when I called. I thought you were sleeping, not … this.” 

Here you start to look a little peeved. “So you just let yourself in? How long have you been standing there? I didn’t think I needed to lock my door at this time of - -“ 

“Turn it off.” 

“What?”

“I said,” He intones, stepping across the room in only a few short strides to loom over you. Leaning down to brace one bandaged hand across the back of your chair, he reaches out with the other to grab the top of the laptop and forcefully slam it shut hard enough to make you jump. “Turn it off.” 

Just sitting there in frozen stillness with your bare thighs weakly pressed together, you warily peer up at him from your lower vantage point before at last rousing yourself. “The webcam is still going. You need to turn off the actual stream first.” 

“I don’t care. I’ll smash the whole thing if that’s what it takes.”

A puzzled look crosses your face. “Why are you so upset about this? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Oh, you’re doing plenty wrong, little Rabbit.” He says, intentionally keeping his tone low and even, watching your expression darken slightly at the use of your old code name. 

Blade knew you didn’t like it when he or any of the others called you that, but there were a great number of other things you didn’t like either. He was aware you didn’t like green vegetables very much, for example, even though he’d attempted to chide you into eating them on occasion. But you didn’t listen to him, just as you weren’t listening to him now. You also didn’t like when he would try to baby you as he so often felt compelled to do. It was frustrating and more than a little confusing when he himself was so often out of sorts due to his condition, and yet … 

It suddenly occurs to him as he’s looking down into your upturned face that this was the reason for his current upset. He wanted to dote on you and coddle you, protect that girlish side of you that he perceived as innocent, but good girls who got babied didn’t show their pussy to every corner of the universe. A lesson had to be taught here if he wanted to get through to you. This couldn’t be like the broccoli and the green peppers where he just let it slide, because this wasn’t half as harmless in his eyes. 

Slowly straightening at the idea that comes into his head, Blade cooly peers down at you from his elevated height. “You said it’s still recording?” 

A stilted, grumpy little nod. Such a brat. “Streaming, but yeah. It’s still going.” 

“Good. If you want to show off so much then let’s let the world see what happens to bad girls who don’t keep their legs closed.” 

Your head snaps up at that, genuine shock registering in your expression. But before you can recover enough to react he brings the hand on the back of your chair down to grab a biting fistful of your hair, giving it a subdued tug to keep you in place when you try to jerk away from him. He isn’t violent with you nor is he really even all that rough about it, just firm and unrelenting while he holds you there. 

Listening to you seethe and hiss like an incensed cat, he bends at the waist again to reach between your legs. You let out a startled squawk, socked feet sliding uselessly against the smooth top of the desk as you try to keep them closed to shut him out but it’s an effort in futility. He easily bullies his hand into the tight, warm space despite all of your desperate wriggling so he can grapple the toy from your hand and ease it out of your cunt. 

You issue a low, faltering sound as it slips away to a sticky wet little click, shuddering rather stiffly as you watch him set it aside on the cluttered table. Even with the only light source now coming from around the edges of the closed laptop he can still clearly make out the fine sheen of arousal coating the silicone when it glistens faintly in the dull glow. It’s enough to make him click his tongue in disappointment before redirecting his fingers to nudge at your feet where they’re still awkwardly braced on top of the desk. 

One yellow sock and one purple? Was he going to have to start dressing you too? 

“Down. Feet don’t belong on the furniture, Rabbit.” 

Shooting him a quick, heated glare, you grudgingly comply, curling your legs inward so that you can work them underneath the table in the awkward position you’re sitting in. You probably would have had an easier time of it if he’d let go of your hair, but he didn’t want you thinking about running off to escape your punishment. Besides, this wouldn’t even be happening right now if you hadn’t had your cunt shoved up in front of the camera to begin with. 

Stopping just long enough to flip the top of the computer back up and allow a bit more light so he can better see what he’s doing, Blade sternly nudges your head around to indicate what he wanted you to do. “Turn around. Kneel on the chair for me.” 

You grumble under your breath the whole time yet comply with this as well, slowly twisting around to get your legs under you before going up to clutch the backrest, facing out now. He follows you around throughout the process, using his hold to guide you into place, until he ends up standing directly in front of you. A quick look at the screen behind you confirms his suspicions. This was a perfect angle of your ass. 

“Dammit, Blade,” You seethe, clutching the chair so tightly it creaks under the pressure when he reaches down with his free hand to tug his belt loose. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? The way you were fucking yourself with that toy, I thought for sure you wanted a cock to play with.” 

A sharp, rattling gasp catches in your chest, peering up at him with a deeply flustered look. “Wh - I didn’t even think you knew those kinds of words … you’re so old fashioned about everything it almost feels wrong somehow.” 

He quirks a single brow at that, setting in to work at the front placket of his pants now. “I may be old, especially compared to you, but I am still a man. You would do well not to underestimate us of the opposite sex.” 

“I can see that.” 

Allowing you that final bitter grumble, Blade stiffly shoves his open pants down far enough for him to fish his cock out. He’s only half hard but rapidly filling out, and he takes himself in hand to pointedly nudge it at you, dragging the fleshy tip across your lips when you try to turn your face away. You were certainly stubborn but unfortunately for you he had nothing but patience and time to waste. 

“Open your mouth, little Rabbit. Let’s put it to better use than sassing your elders, hm?” 

Groaning a quiet sound when he tugs on your hair again, you glare daggers up at him from under the fall of your lashes. He gives you no chance to truly fight it though when his hold on you was as good as iron and his other hand was crowding insistently close to your face with his expectant cock. A cursory struggle is all you ultimately manage before he works your mouth open enough to slip it in, and you noise a muffled sound of protest at the abrupt sensation of spongy flesh on your tongue. 

“Do not bite.” He warns, allowing just enough of an edge to creep into his voice to indicate he was serious about that. “What’s wrong? You look upset. Isn't it customary to give little ones something to suck on in order to soothe them? Think of this then like a pacifier substitute. Something tells me you’ll appreciate it here in a moment.”

You noise a confused sound at that, keeping your eyes rolled up to suspiciously watch him. He says nothing further though, holding your head firmly in place with his hand while he leans forward to reach over you. 

Placing his opposite palm along your lower back, right under the raised hem of the fluffy hooded top you’ve got on, he drags it lower to feel along the feminine curve of your waist and then your hips. He realizes in a vague, distant sort of way that he’s seen you wearing this before. It was a two piece set, if he wasn’t mistaken, and the matching shorts were probably somewhere on the floor underneath the desk where you’d slipped them off before the fun started. It was astounding to him how shameless you were behind closed doors. 

But he plans to correct that, and as he heavily smooths his gloved fingers across the swell of your ass cheeks he takes a great deal of satisfaction in the way you shudder for him. It was likely that you were starting to guess at what he planned to do, and you whimper a sweet little sound that’s thoroughly muffled by his cock in your mouth. You don’t try to spit him out or test your luck with your teeth though, and that pleases him as well. 

It’s clear enough to him that you can be good, if you want to be, and he’s perfectly willing to give you that incentive, lifting his hand and then bringing it back down with a sharp clap across the fattest part of one cheek. You jolt so hard you almost seem to choke on the saliva gathering along your tongue as much as you do at the girth of him stretching your lips open. Still, you don’t fight him, so he quickly does the same to the opposite cheek. 

“Do you think this is what they wanted to see?” He murmurs, giving your fleshy backside a tight, pinching squeeze to make you squirm. “A bad girl getting spanked with another man’s cock in her mouth? I’m sure they're all quite disappointed in tonight’s show.” 

The only response you give is a plaintive little whine into his coarse thatch of pubic hair, struggling to ease your head back when his length slowly grows and fills out more. He keeps you held right where you are though, feeling himself start to tickle at the back of your throat now, and he groans a quiet sound as he brings his hand down on the first cheek again. 

“They’ll be even more disappointed when they find out this is the last time they’ll ever see you. Bent over, getting your behind smacked like a child. There will be no more of this nonsense, do you understand me?” 

You attempt to speak around him only to come up short, stiffly nodding your head instead. And he gives you no time to adjust or ease into the sting that’s no doubt settling over your ass the more he spanks you, peppering his hand back and forth between both cheeks to show them an equal amount of attention. Even in the faint glow of the laptop screen he can see your skin gradually darkening where he strikes you, the extra bite of his glove no doubt adding to the burn. And below that, in the feedback of the webcam, he can look at your poor, neglected little pussy where it’s peeking out from between your thighs. You really were a cute thing, and to this end he understood to an extent why you might enjoy showing off for strangers and being on the receiving end of their amorous gazes. 

But it wasn’t proper nor was it appropriate for a young lady such as yourself, and he just keeps spanking you until he can feel you shuddering with the sobbing, tiny cries that make your shoulders defensively bunch up. Only then does he pause to give you a short break while he lifts his hand to his mouth so he can bite the finger of the glove between his teeth and slide it off. 

When he reaches for you next, he’s struck by the stark contrast between his skin and yours. Where his fingers were battle hardened and littered with numerous scars, you were conversely smooth and nearly entirely blemish free. The size of his hand against your back also registers as pleasing, easily spanning almost the entire width of your waist despite the femininely wide set of your hips. He seems to dwarf you in every way, and he takes a moment to savoringly slide his calloused palm over your abused cheeks to really rub the hurt in and listen to you seethe. 

“Are you sorry, little Rabbit?” 

Sucking in a thick, wetly faltering breath, you give your head a plaintive nod as you noise an incomprehensible sound around his now stiffly rigid cock. 

He delivers another sharp swat to your ass, watching the meat of you jiggle from the force. His bare hand must hurt worse without the glove in the way, because you positively writhe against him, squealing helplessly while he grabs a tight handful of your throbbing skin to give it a squeeze. 

“Are you going to do it again?” 

You shake your head this time, restlessly shifting on your knees where you’re knelt for him. It’s almost enough to sway him, to make him feel enough pity for you to stay his hand, but he persists, knowing you wouldn’t learn your lesson if he wasn’t strict with you. Lifting his hand, he brings it back down on the other cheek to make you woundedly lurch against him with a smothered wail. 

“Good. I don’t want to have this talk with you again.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Hello lovely I hope this enough for a request but I was wondering if you would write a fic for Hunter x Jedi!Reader around season one. Hunter has the start of a crush on reader but once omega comes into the picture and he sees how good reader is with her he knows he needs to ask her out! Feel free to change whatever, I hope you like the idea!

I Will Protect You

Hunter x Reader

Summary- As a defective Jedi you are reassigned to The Bad Batch. How can you resist Hunter? Especially when he confesses after seeing how good you are with Omega.

A/N- Thank you so much for requesting! I LOVED this idea! I've contemplated doing something similar in the past, so I am so glad you requested this!

Word Count- 1,679

You remember being assigned to Clone Force 99 like it was yesterday. The day you were considered a 'defective' Jedi. While you were skilled in the force and an expert in wielding a lightsaber- you got attached.

In a mission gone wrong, you sacrificed yourself for your Jedi master. She was entirely grateful. Even though you made a full recovery, the Empire was not happy. Claiming you shouldn't have those 'emotional tendencies.'

You understood the purpose of severing all relationships, trying to only be one with the force. Emotions just came naturally to you! Connecting with all kinds of people, acting motherly to the less fortunate, and trying to be there for all of the clones.

The final straw for The Empire was when you were caught holding a small ceremony for a few fallen Clones. A fellow Jedi, you once called brother, turned you in.

You were immediately reassigned to Clone Force 99- labeled 'Defective.'

That was the same day you met Hunter. The first thing you noticed was his face tattoo, how attractive it looked. The skull covering half his face tickled your curiosity. You never had the courage to ask him about it, the whole 'don't get attached or you'll get reassigned' circled your mind.

You quickly grew to love Force 99. They accepted you, treated you like a human being. Not just a force wielder, something you'd never had. Despite your vow and upbringing, you considered them all to be your family.

Just under a year had gone by when Order 66 went out. You noticed how protective Hunter could be. He fought off droids, clones, and anyone who tried to harm you.

Not many knew of your Jedi background, allowing you to go into somewhat of a stealth mode. You acquired new gear, matching your team's. With a helmet on around others- your identity and life were safe. Though, you and Crosshairs friendship wavered...

The weight of your life always being at steak rested on you heavily. You couldn't sleep anymore, having gone days with low or no rest..

"Hunter, can we talk?" You asked him in the cockpit.

"Of course, what happened?" He looked worried.

Tech, however, does not even look up from his position as pilot.

"Uh, Tech, can we have a moment?" You asked, feeling a little guilty for making him leave.

Now he does look up, pressing some kind of 'auto-pilot' button. "Sure."

Great, now you already felt awkward.

"Look, I think I should go.." You got straight to the point. It hurt too much to draw it out.

Hunter's face fell, he was not expecting that. Though, a little part of you appreciated he cared so much.

"W-what?" He stepped closer to you.

"I just, well I just think it's for the best..." You fiddled with your fingers. The force felt moody, like something was off.

"Did something happen? Did Crosshair say anything! I swear I-"

"No, no. Nothing like that I promise!" You took the last step separating you. You were inches apart now.

"Did I do something?" He whispered, knowing he couldn't forgive himself if he did.

"No, I don't think there's anything you could do to make me turn from you." You whispered back, like a secret.

"Then what?" He softly asked.

You looked at the floor, unwilling to face him now. "I can't be the reason you guys are attacked. The Empire is after all Jedi's. You are all at risk if I am here..."

He, with the lightest touch, listed your chin up with a finger. "That doesn't matter... You're safest with us. You can't leave. Damn if the rest of us are in danger, I don't care. We will protect you. I won't let anyone take you." His voice was husky, he meant every word.

You didn't know how to respond, you were awestruck. Your legs felt like jello. All of your training out the window. You hadn't a thought except for him. Everything was suddenly him.

You just nodded, leaning further into his touch. Almost in a trance. You desperately craved his lips on yours. Just an inch forward and they'd be yours. So close-

A beeping made you gasp and pull away. Tech storming back in to the cockpit, taking his respective seat.

"Sorry to interrupt. We are about to land on Kamino."

You panted still, the exchange leaving you flustered. He eyed you, searching for any kind of rejection from you. Neither of you spoke with Tech in the room, you just looked at him with your head in the sky. You were unbelievably happy.

Unfortunately, you and Hunter were yet to bring that moment up again. Things kind of went back to normal, as you all got increasingly busy. Losing Crosshair and gaining Omega was a stressful time, you didn't have a second alone with Hunter. Even if you did want it more than anything.

Luckily, you had a calling to Omega. She was the sweetest girl you'd ever met, her positivity was inspiring.

You spent a lot of time with her, bonding especially when there was down time in-between missions. You also picked up on Hunters defensive and protective nature with her. He was undeniably acting as a father would.

"Yes, bullseye!" You jumped up and gave Omega a high-five. She was getting better everyday with her energy bow.

She laughed and bounced giddily.

"Now, lets see if you can hit a moving object." You encouraged her.

The two of you were far enough from the city to be hidden. You moved a small cart and a few bricks with the force. It slowly moved back and forth. It was hard concealing the powers you learned as a Jedi, but you soon adapted. Using the force less frequently as time went on.

She took a deep breath, inhaling as she pulled the bow string back. Just as she let the arrow go, it went flying past the target.

"Aw." She was visibly upset, not realizing how different moving targets were.

"Hey, it's okay. You should have seen me trying to move an object for the first time. It took me days to even lift a pebble." You proved your point by lifting a nearby stone up. "I still struggle sometimes..." You purposefully dropped the piece.

"You're so cool... I wish I was a Jedi! Then I wouldn't have to learn how to use an Energy Bow. I could just use my mind!" She made silly gestures. Moving a hand out to pretend she was wielding the force.

You smiled at her, deciding to shield her from the horrors of your childhood.

"I think an Energy Bow is just as cool. If not cooler!" You assured her.

"If you think so." She grumbled out, but ready to pull the string back again.

You sighed. "I think that's enough practice for today. It's getting late, honey." The sky was getting dark.

She looked displeased, "Why don't you go find Wrecker and get some dinner?"

She brightened up at this. "I'll save some for you too!"

You watched her as a mother would, making sure she was by Wreckers side before turning away.

"I can feel you staring." You announced, cleaning up the mess you and Omega made while training.

Footsteps were now heard as Hunter revealed himself. "Sorry." He acted as if you caught him doing something bad.

"Oh, I don't mind. I know you're just trying to keep Omega safe. Care to help?" You asked, bending down to place the brick back where they were found.

He walks to you, crouching to help. "Not just Omega." He says, lifting a few bricks.

"Hmm?"

"You as well." This made you blush lightly.

"Thank you, you know you'd make a really good father, right? Omega really looks up to you." You proclaimed, making sure Hunter knew his worth.

He stiffened, the words hitting his heart. "If anything she looks up to you. You're so good with her. It's..." He seemed to have regretted his choice of yours, continuing with- "You just always know what to say and do."

"It's what?" You asked, not letting him change the subject.

With a sigh he starts, "It's one of the reasons I love you so much." Another shift in the force, your heart thumping loud.

You stood, turning to him. A sense of Deja Vu rushed over you. To that day on the ship, the moment that was never resolved.

"You do?" You asked. Love was a feeling you were never supposed to feel as a Jedi.

"Have I not been clear? I live and breathe you..."

A flutter rests in your stomach. A sharp thrill reaching lower.

You walk to him, chest almost touching. "I don't think we finished what we started in the cockpit..." He declared, voice deep.

You shook your head. "No, we didn't. Are you going to make that up to me?" You spoke smug, but knew you'd melt at his touch.

"Only if you'll allow me..." A hand brushed against your forearm, resting there.

"Yes, of course..." He leaned down, his other hand now cupping your face.

He stopped just before his lips touched yours. "There won't be any going back." He whispered.

You didn't speak, only pushing yourself flush to him. It forced your lips to meet.

It was clumsy, you'd never done anything like this before. The Jedi code was very strict. You wondered if he had been with anyone else in that moment.

All of a sudden insecure over something you've yearned for.

Your thoughts were crushed with is next words, "You're perfect. So, so perfect." You turned a new shade of red, deeper and deeper.

"Watching you with Omega... Made me realize." He stopped, opting to kiss you once again.

You complied. He wrapped a hand around your waist, bringing you as close as you could be. Your arms lifted around his neck.

You pulled your head back slightly to breathe, "And what is that?"

"That I should ask this beautiful woman out." He stated, looking for your response.

"You didn't even have to ask..."

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I loved writing this one, I hope you liked it!! It's like 1 am, so i'll come back and edit this when i'm not tired xD!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @dangraccoon @knight-of-flowerss

[skellymom]

"I'M YOUR MAN"

Hunter x Jedi Fem Reader Supporting Character. SMUTTY++

Background: This one shot starts out very similar to my "Hunt and Peck" one shot. However, it's not just a Force Sensitive, but an actual Jedi. And, his Batchmates aren't in on the shenanigans. This is the VERY dirty version of "Hunt and Peck" but Hunter goes "solo".

I wanted to write a smutty fic from INSIDE Hunter's head space. We hardly ever really know what's going on in there. Well, now you do!

Word Count: 2.1K

WARNING: Male masturbation, oral sex, genital sex, spit kink, swearing kink, dirty word kink, praise kink, names of various sexual positions, bodily fluids, lots of dirty nasty sexy stuff. Lots of it. Very LEMONY content! 

The Batch finished up their latest mission, picking up a new passenger along the way.  Y/N was a Jedi hitching a ride to a planet they would be passing on the way to Kamino.  She would only be staying a few standard days on the Marauder, and the crew made sure she had a comfortable stay. 

Within two days Hunter was smitten.  He usually kept his infatuations to himself as best he could...ESPECIALLY with female Jedi.  But...well, this one was different...and difficult to ignore.  Of course, he still engaged with her politely and respectfully.  Being a Sergeant and host on this transport, he kept some distance. 

Y/N was attractive.  Not conventionally, as he wouldn’t consider himself attracted to just ANY pretty face.  But she had that...thing.  An essence?  Something that just took him out at the knees.  It was elusive... 

...and she smelled SO GOOD.  Hell, even when she was sweaty, dirty, just got woke up in the morning...heady scent of her body odor with the slightest tang of her sex... 

Hunter shifted in the pilot’s seat.  His armor codpiece felt tight.  Dammit, he NEEDED to stop getting distracted.  He was supposed to be sitting watch on the ship. 

Technically Echo was to stand this shift.  However, he was under the weather and now lying down like the rest of his brothers. 

Hunter could hear Crosshair breathing, Echo’s ticking mechanical heart, and smell Tech’s drool...as he slept face down with mouth open.  Wreckers' snores were like a power tool, until his sleep apnea kicked in. Hunter would count the seconds unconsciously holding his own breath too...until Wrecker finally inhaled. 

Hunter inhaled deeply just thinking about it... 

...until Y/N sighed in her sleep.  The sound brought his attention back to the heat and tightness in his groin.  Hunter’s cock was now becoming painful with an intense pressure against his codpiece. 

Oh STARS!  How did the other Clones deal with this???  Commander Bly following Aayla Secura around while she exposed all that beautiful blue skin.  Or Deepa Billoba with her pretty braids and deep scarlet lips... 

...then there was his first crush: Shaak Ti.  A tall stunning Togruta with her long montrals and head tails. 

DANK FERRICK!  Y/N did look at him a lot and smiled. He could sense her body reacting to him MUCH differently than his brothers.  The thrumming of her presence on his senses.  Something he guessed was her Force sensitivity.  It would tickle his nerve endings and make him shiver...in a VERY good way.  Was Y/N flirting with the Force?  Hunter wasn’t exactly sure.  Was that even ALLOWED? 

Hunter ripped the codpiece off and tossed it onto the Marauder’s dash.  His girthy engorged cock staining through his blacks...and leaving a wet spot.   

These Jedi women are going to be the death of me! 

Who was he kidding...WOMEN drove him crazy!!! 

The last thing Hunter wanted was to cause any trouble...especially with a Jedi. 

He had to take care of this situation...and put IT to “rest” ...NOW. 

Walking back to the refresher wasn’t an option.  He didn’t want to wake anyone, and he was supposed to be on watch. 

Listening again, Hunter could perceive everyone was asleep and accounted for.  He slid down comfortably in the pilot’s chair.  Noting that Tech left one of his hand rags for mechanical maintenance hanging up in the cockpit, Hunter grabbed it for clean up later. 

Looking around and listening one last time, Hunter gently rolled down his blacks and released his cock.  Its meaty girthiness sprung up at attention.  Uncut and big enough to satisfy, but not so large as to be painful.  Poor Wrecker...Hunter thought fleetingly.  So big he must hold back constantly to not injure.  Gotta be stressful.  People would give Hunter shit for being the smallest of the group.  Heh, average ain’t bad.  Especially since he exceeded at technique. 

What was the saying on Kamino?  Yeah...It’s not the size of the ship, but the motion of the ocean. 

The head of his penis peeked out from the uncut foreskin.  Hunter smoothed his thumb through the large drop of precum and rubbed gentle circles on the top of his cock.  He shivered from the sensation but held back a gentle moan.  He needed to be extra quiet.  Keeping his mouth shut, Hunter also regulated his breathing. 

Next, he cupped his cock in hand and gently but firmly pulled back his foreskin.  Then he gave his shaft a few good pumps. 

... A very feminine scent wafted from the pallet Y/N was sleeping on the bunk room floor.  She must have been having a hell of a dream...as Hunter could smell her wet arousal.  To her credit, she was extremely quiet. 

The smell drove him crazy.  More precum leaked from his cock.   

Hunter closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to bury his face in Y/N’s pussy.  He inhaled her scent and pictured himself licking and sucking her clit.  How she would look from that point of view.  Staring up over her mons pubis to see her writhe and sweat.  Hair messed, face and chest flushed as he teased her to orgasm over and over again.  Screaming his name, asking for more.  

FUCK, he LOVED EATING PUSSY!  LOVED watching his lovers lose themselves in ecstasy.  Loved when they praised his talent for the job.   

And, if they wanted to be fingered while he dined, he happily obliged.  Gently of course...unless she insisted on it being rough.  He followed directions very well and kept the channels of communication open.  How many fingers?  How’s that feel?  You like how I’m fingering you?  Tell me.  I wanna hear you tell me.  Yeah...whatever you want.  I’m your man.  Mmmm...You’re so FUCKING beautiful!  

Pumping his cock, occasionally coming up to rub the leaking precum across his head and frenulum with his thumb.  The mental image fueling his desire and the tingling of his penis. 

Hunter also LOVED breasts.  Big, small, he serviced them all.  Lick them, kiss, twist, cup.  But, he wasn’t in a hurry.  No, Hunter wanted to appreciate the other parts of his lover's body and work his way there.   

Nibbling Y/N’s thighs, tender kisses on her stomach.  Women worry too much about their bellies.  Who the fuck made them feel so insecure?  Hunter wasn’t gonna get mad.  He didn’t have time for that.  Bring that belly here and let me worship it.  The asshole that made you feel bad about that part of your body isn’t here...I AM.  Look me right in the eyes.  Yeah, hold that eye contact.  Listen to me.  I’m gonna make your body SING tonight.  I wanna make you feel desirable...’cause you are.  Now, grab my hair if you feel ya gotta hold on tight!  

Pumped his wet cock a bit more... 

AND ASSES!  All sizes.  Firm and jiggly...flat and flabby... 

Fuck the guy who told you your ass wasn’t pretty.  Probably the same dipshit who razzed you about your other body parts. 

I’m here to tell ya:  Your body parts make my cock wanna give you a standing ovation.  I’ll happily kiss ANYTHING on your body, if it’ll get you off.  Even the stuff you might be worried is too nasty and dirty.  I’ll be as clean as you request or dirty as ya care to ask for. 

Hunter needed to stay on track.  All the blood was rushing to his lower extremities, making him a bit punch drunk.  His eyes were half closed with horniness. 

And he needed a bit more lubrication. Hunter leaned over his swollen member and spit on it delicately. The extra slide felt amazing. 

Oh yeah...Hunter was getting ahead of himself.  In his mind Y/N requested he kiss and suckle her breasts. In his mind, she moaned and raked at his back. Mmmmhmm...I wanna hear you. Tell me how much you like this. He moved up to lavish her neck with kisses, grinding his slippery member through her sex. The sound was loud and wet. Smells sooo good. Whispering in her ear, pressing his nose against her cheek You feel so good! FUCK...Hunter shivered, his cock twitching with anticipation. 

Are you ready for me?  Yeah?  Gonna take my time, okay?  I’m in no hurry...unless you WANT me to fuck you hard and put you away wet?  I aim to please.  So swollen and hard right now...could grab you around the legs, hoist ya up, and nail ya silly.  Missionary?  Doggie style?  Cowgirl?  Reverse Cowgirl?  Vertical or Horizonal, I’m strong enough to get ya there.  

No?  Ok.  Just give me the word.  And I’ll take it nice...and easy.  

Hunter slowed down the momentum on his cock.  Stroking gently to prolong his arousal and not cum too soon.    

What about me, you say?  Heh...REALLY enjoying my time with you.  I’m a man of variety.  Whatever you want, I’m along for...ahem...the ride.  However long it takes. 

You wanna suck my cock?  Well...chuckles...I won’t say NO to a good blow.  Just ask you tease me a bit.  He imagined the wet softness of Y/N’s mouth on his member.  Swirling her tongue over his head, shaft... 

...her hand firmly gripping his balls and he gripped them now... 

...pumping his cock...gathering momentum. 

Wanna blow my seed in your cunt, while I’m holding you.  Full body skin on skin contact while I’m inside you.  My uncut foreskin rubbing your pink jellybean clit while my cock caresses your G-spot.  Bonus if I get to taste your mouth while you moan into mine. 

Hunter lifted his pelvis off the seat, bracing his legs and abdomen...adding pressure to his core and the root of his sex.  He slid his cock back and forth through his wet hand, gritting his teeth, and sweating. 

I’ll do EVERYTHING in my power to take you over the edge ONE more time before I do.  I got the stamina to fuck, suck, and caress you all night if it’s what you request of me.  Over and over again. 

I’m YOUR MAN. 

As Hunter came, a very sudden and explosive scream erupted from the bunk room!   

Hunter let go of his scrotum and slapped a hand over his mouth to hold back his violent moans.  An intense, warm orgasm shot through his body. Hunter came SO HARD it hit the ceiling of the Marauder’s cockpit with an audible THUMP! A climax so sudden and strong, he shook and was unable to stand. 

The bunk room erupted in chaos. Wrecker had fallen off the top bunk from sheer terror. Tech started awake and flung his datapad across the room...hitting Crosshair in the head. Only Echo remained unscathed as he slipped unaided by his prosthetics from the bottom bunk to the Jedi’s pallet on the floor. 

He put his one intact arm around the Jedi. “Ma’am, are you ok?” 

She, sweating, flushed, and breathing heavily, “Oh...” stammered, “A dream.” 

“Sounded like a NIGHTMARE!” Wrecker recovered from his fall. 

The Jedi laughed nervously. 

Tech finally found his goggles amongst the bedcovers, slapped them on, and ran to the refresher. “I’ll retrieve a glass of water for our guest.” 

Crosshair rubbed the goose egg developing on his forehead. “Bring a bacta patch while you’re in there too!” 

“Where the HELL is HUNTER???” Echo thundered. 

On command Hunter slid into the bunk room. “What happened? Must have fallen asleep on watch!” 

Echo turned to Hunter “Our Guest gave us quite a scare.” He looked puzzled as Hunter NEVER fell asleep on watch. “Due to a dream.” 

Tech ran in and handed the Jedi a full canteen of water and a small towelette for her sweaty brow.  

“Thank you, Tech.” She dabbed herself and sipped from the canteen...purposely keeping her eyes averted from the Sergeant. 

“Bacta patch?” Crosshair growled at Tech. 

“I ONLY have two hands, Crosshair!” Tech sassed his way back to the refresher. 

“Looking a little FLUSHED too, Hunter. Sure you’re FEELING well? Crosshair sneered. 

Hunter was just about to tell Crosshair to shut his pie hole when the Jedi interrupted. “I... think I’m ready to go back to sleep.” 

“Alright.” Echo got back into his bunk. “You need ANYTHING, we’re right here.” 

“I’m feeling better now.” She sighed.  "Thank you Echo."

Wrecker leaned down and handed Lula to Y/N. “Lula will help you sleep the rest of the night.” 

“Thank you, Wrecker.” 

Crosshair sneered at Hunter who turned to go back to his watch station. 

Tech unpeeled the bacta patch and slapped it over Crosshair’s pie hole, then turned out the lights.

Next morning the Marauder landed at the Jedi’s destination. She thanked The Batch and descended the gangplank. Sergeant Hunter was the last to say goodbye and salute her. 

“I must thank you, btw.” She blushed demurely and smiled. 

Hunter looked confused and glanced to see where his Batchmates were at. They had already retreated into the ship, preparing to leave the planet. 

“Uh...for what?” 

“For being...MY MAN... last night.” 

Hunter blushed crimson red... speechless but had SO MANY questions. 

“I know what you’re thinking Sergeant. Jedi CAN have...relations. They just can’t be possessive attachments. And... technically we never physically touched...” 

She winked and walked away towards her destination. 

And that was how Hunter was literally mind-fucked by a Jedi. 

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[holylulusworld]

The inventor

Summary: You try to make the hunter’s life easier.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: crack!fic, fun, grumpy Dean

A/N: I saw the idea with a hula-hoop on social media and had to turn it into a fic.

“I got a new idea!” You exclaim as you run inside the library. Since Dean and Sam saved you from a werewolf and took you in, you try to help them. You are their research buddy and their personal inventor.

“Not again,” Dean groans. He rolls his eyes as you carry your invention book, your laptop, and a plastic bag filled with God knows inside the library. “I try to drink in silence. Please don’t let anything explode again.”

“Oopsie!” You giggle. “Dean, that was an accident. It was your fault, though. You tickled me, and I dropped the liquid fire I invented.”

“You didn’t invent anything, Y/N!” Dean mutters under his breath. He wanted to celebrate another successful hunt with booze and watching porn. Now you are placing a construction plan in front of him. “What's this again?”

“A salt-filled hula-hoop ring! You know, like a salt ring, but you can carry it around because it’s inside a hula-hoop!” You excitedly tell Dean about your newest invention. “You can put it around a person and keep them safe from ghosts while you gank the monster. “Oh, it will work with demons too.”

Dean snorts. “I don’t think this will work. The hula-hoop will weaken the effect. We don’t put a box of salt in front of a person to protect them, either.”

“But—” You harrumph. Dean just had to ruin yet another idea to improve their hunting arsenal. “A box is not the same as a hula-hoop!”

“I won’t carry that thing around.” Dean points at the construction plan. “We will stick to salt rings.”

“Water—wind—spit. Anything can break a salt ring, but not my hula-hoop salt ring!” You won’t give up. “Maybe we can try it out on the next hunt! OR WAIT!!!” You gasp as the next idea floods your mind. “Let’s summon Crowley. We can check if he can break the salt ring!”

“No.” Dean cuts you off. “This is not handy, and just stupid!”

“Your face is stupid!” You grab your construction plan and storm out of the library, cursing Dean’s birth.

“SAMMY!” You’re panting while chasing after Sam. He tried to enter the library for research, and now you are hot on his heels. “What do you think about wearing silver rings on every finger to punch werewolves and ghouls in the face? I could make you some. Maybe secret compartment rings. I can put salt inside.”

“You want us to wear rings on every finger? We can’t do anything with rings on our fingers. What if we want to shoot a werewolf, and the huge secret compartment rings get in our way?”

You sigh. Damnit. You worked on the first ring for days and didn’t think about using a gun while wearing it. A fine inventor you are…

“How about car mats with a devil’s trap? This way, no demon can enter your car,” you proudly point at Baby stand in the garage. “That’s a good idea, right?”

“Uh—I hate to tell you so, but we already have a devil’s trap painted to the roof of the trunk. And trust me, no dirty demon will enter my car on my watch.”

You purse your lips. “Fine, let any demon sneak into your car, Winchester.” You storm off, cursing loudly as you decide to never help them again.

“DEAN! I got an idea!” You run inside the kitchen, a water gun in your hands. “LOOK! A water gun filled with holy water and some salt!” You grin proudly. This is it, the idea of the century. Even Dean must see this is the only way to defeat demons.

“Hmm…” He grumbles. Dean eyes the colorful water gun. He shakes his head and turns to walk out of the kitchen. “That looks like Barbie’s gun. I won’t use it.”

“I can spray it black,” you offer. “It will look cool. Dean! Wait!” You chase after Dean, determined to convince him to use the water gun from now on. “It will work!”

“Nope,” he shrugs when you tell him he’s a jerk. “I won’t use your toy gun. Just stop inventing shit.”

“One day, I will invent something to shrink your dick!” You yell after Dean, making him chuckle. “You’ll see Winchester. One day you will wake up and whimper, oh no, my dick is tiny, and I need a magnifying glass to find it!”

Dean laughs while walking toward the library. You follow him, telling the hunter how much better all your inventions would make his life.

“If you invent something to turn dust into a pie, I’m game.” He grins when you look at him with glassy eyes. Dean wants you to invent something.

“I’ll turn every dust mouse into the most delicious pie!” You exclaim before storming out of the library. “You’ll beg me to give you a slice.”

Dean watches you leave the library; he cocks a brow, wondering if you can turn dirt into a pie.

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