#i am about to bark like a little puppy because this man owns my heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

erodasfishtacos · 3 years ago

Note

Hiii bestie!!! Could you write about y/n being in danger and gang Harry gets all worried and scared (of course) and saves her. (I love your stories so much)

warning: violence, blood, guns

Harry was waiting for YN at home after she was going to the store to buy tampons (he offered to go but he normally bought the wrong kind).

He’s watching a game of football as he also continuously glances at the clock - keeping time of how long she’s been gone.

After twenty-five minutes, he gets a bit impatient, he wanted to start their movie night (sue him sometimes he liked cute romantic shit).

When he rings her mobile, it picks up after the first ring, and what he hears next sends a straight chill down his spine.

“We were waiting for you to call, Diablo,” A gruff, smokey voice rasps through the speaker of his wife’s phone.

His heart fucking drops but anger takes over in mere seconds as he’s off the couch and storming to their secret weapons room through a hidden passageway.

“What the fuck do y’cunts want?” Harry hisses furiously, unsure of who exactly this voice belongs to on the other end.

He hears a whimper in the background. He’d know that sound anywhere - usually he heard it when she was underneath him but right now it sounded pained and scared.

“If you fuckin’ hurt - I guarantee you that your whole family will be dead by tomorrow,” Harry promises, pushing down the panic as he grabs a duffel to begin shoving a shotgun and assault rifle in.

His desert eagle was tucked in his waistband already - were it always sat.

On his burner phone, he manages to text and send out the GPS location of where his wife is at - idiots most likely don’t know that he has a tracker on her phone.

There was also a GPS tracker embedded in the ‘H’ necklace she always wore right behind the three small diamonds so no one would ever be able to spot it.

“Business. We know you have a shipment going into the South Bay at midnight. Rumor has it you have 6 million pounds of coke on their,” The man replies.

Bingo.

Harry automatically realizes that this dude is a fucking idiot and fell for a diversion tactic - that shipment was being delivered on the other side of the city at three in the morning.

He didn’t get to be the most dangerous, successful gang leader without his own skills and manipulation of his own.

Harry always had to try to pick off the rats and snitches in his gang because people like to squeal for money and drugs.

Every opportunity he got, he told a couple of his rookie members fake information to see if they’d betray him.

It looks like someone was given fake information that Harry had fed two newer members earlier in the week.

“Why the fuck would y’idiots just sneak attack? Why the fuck d’you have my wife?” Harry snarls, getting a influx of text from his associates stating they’re on their way.

“We were actually going to be nice, just hold her until you agree - not hurt her, you know? But your little bitch managed to kill two of my men before we could wrangle her.”

Thatta girl.

God, he really fucking loved his wife and had no fear of putting his on life on the line to protect her - would take a bullet for her any day.

“I can’t wait t’find you and torture you until you’re begging for me to just put you out of your misery,” Harry promises, his heart pounding, vein protruding from his forehead.

“You really shouldn’t threaten me when I have this pretty little number of yours tied up to a chair with a gun to her head,” The man laughs with amusement, “I’ll have you talk to her now.”

Harry hears the man bark at YN, “Speak bitch!”

“He-hello?” YN whimpers pathetically, “Baby, I need help.”

And it sounds wrong - but relief flushes through him at the sound of her pleas. It was completely an act because it’s not truly how she sounds when she’s scared.

“Brat, y’faking it right now right?” Harry makes sure, getting onto the interstate - uncaring of stop signs and red lights.

“Yes. Yes, come get me. Yes, baby,” YN continues and god, she could win an Oscar for her performance and it really shouldn’t get him hard right now.

When he pulls up to a brick building that looks abandoned, his men are already shooting with visible bodies collapsed on the floor.

Harry yanks his favorite assault rifle out of his trunk, tugging the strap over his head, and positioning it as he strides forward.

“Boss, we haven’t cleared it completely. You can’t go in yet,” Niall informs him as he reload quickly, breathing heavy.

“I don’t fuckin’ care. My wife’s in there,” Harry snaps, quickly taking out the last two visible men before he is able to step through the door.

He is about to turn a corner and a man steps out from behind it - Harry doesn’t hesitate to lay his heavily-clad ringed knuckles straight into his face knocking him down before landing one fatal shot.

When he steps into a bare, musky old basement - his beautiful wife is tied to a chair, ropes keeping her arms tied behind her, and a cloth in her mouth.

“‘Bout time you showed up,” The rival states, standing behind his wife with a gun running along her skin.

She’s still in her holey tee shirt and biker shorts with white sneakers that were blood sodden like her clothing.

Harry illuminates pure fury when his gaze meets her - but her eyes are twinkling like she knows something he doesn’t.

He noticed that there was a high concentration of blood near her left side and that the fabric was torn - he had cut her and she was bleeding.

But she spits out the rag, rasping out to her husband in a teasing tone, “Took you long enough, dickhead,” before she’s slipping her hands from the restraints that she had gotten out of in mere minutes.

Her hand goes right for the man’s crotch - taking him by complete surprise, he hunches over and YN is able to get off the chair and knee him straight in the nose.

“S’your turn now,” YN replies, “I need to bandage this to stop the bleeding - it’s just superficial.”

Harry doesn’t remember much from that point on beside the fact that he pulled that man’s teeth out one by one and just as he had told him - by the time Harry was done with him he’d being begging for death.

And boy did he beg for Harry to just end it because Harry’s torture methods was worse than being dead to the world.

After he’s done, he nods at his men to clean up the mess, and finds his wife instantly, intertwining their hands and assuring her, “I’ll stick y’up when we get home.”

YN’s sat on their bathroom countertop in nothing but a clean pair of underwear after Harry had gently bathed her dirt and blood away.

She had quieted, the confidence and adrenaline having faded off, and she lets out a loud whimper when he begins to thread the needle through her tender, swollen skin.

“M’sorry, my queen,” Harry apologizes sympathetically as he threads through to close up the wound.

“Hurts,” His wife hisses with a crack in her voice, hands resting on his bare shoulders as he concentrates on her side.

“It’s done, did s’good baby,” He murmurs encouragingly, disposing of the items before cupping her jaw, “How are y’feelin’?”

“I’m fine,” She replies instantly, swallowing and avoiding his gaze.

“You’re not okay and that’s okay,” Harry reminds her, chest hurting when tears start to dribble down her cheeks.

“I was scared,” She whispers, “And all I wanted was you.”

“Baby, baby fuckin’ look at me,” Harry urges, tilting her chin up and hands coming to massage at her thighs, “M’sorry I wasn’t there right away, I fucking would die for you.”

It was amazing how much YN changed Harry.

Jaymee was a really sweet girl, bright puppy dog eyes and a wide smile with cherub cheeks, “That was amazing,” she had giggles after Harry rolls off of her.

“Get the fuck out now,” He dismisses, swinging his legs off the bed and pulling on his briefs.

Her face drops, “But…we just? I thought tha-“

Harry cuts her off there, crushing the cute girl’s dreams when he scoffs, “Y’thought what? I didn’t want anything from you but your cunt. I don’t cuddle or give a single fuck - so get the fuck out.”

“You’re my soulmate, fuckin’ crazy with how gone I am for you,” Harry follows the sentence but a line of kisses across her breasts and collarbones.

“Please, need it,” YN requests lowly, hand coming to tangle into his curls and lead him to her breast to suck at her hard nipple.

“Y’side, brat,” Harry reminds her, “Let just lay y’out, make y’come, and then we can cuddle, okay?”

And he does, spread her out on their bed, licks deep into her until she’s quivering with pleasure, and then tucks her right into his chest and he soothes her to sleep.

#gang!harry masterlist #gangrry #gang!harry blurbs #gang!harry #file

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cayofdreams · 4 years ago

Text

12 Nights of XXXMAS | Day 1: Breeding

Fit for a Princess

Pro-Hero!Deku x Reader

Summary: Upset at your fiance for not being able to come home on time for Christmas Eve, he makes it up to you with a gift only the likes of you could adorn. But now it’s time to fill your princess duties...

Words: 4.6k

Warnings/Tags: mirror sex, breeding, overstimulation, a dash of dumbification

Notes: uhh this was supposed to be like 2k words but then libido existed. Tagging @butterscotchbaku because their dom deku supremacy rhetoric has corrupted into my brain cells.

The view of the wintery outside was marvelous from your window. The snow painted the scenery a shimmering white, the various Christmas decorations adorning neighbor’s homes could place you directly into a wonderland, and the kids giggling and playing as they made snow angels under the street lights created the perfect picture of innocence.

Inside your home wasn’t bad either. The fire cracking at the fireplace sounded tranquil for your auditory senses, the Christmas tree in the living room gave you peaceful nostalgia from your childhood, and the smell of the sugar cookies baking in the oven was comparable to a candle from the most luxurious of department stores.

And yet, you were upset.

Or perhaps anger is the more fitting emotion dwelling over you currently. Your lover and recent fiancé, Midoriya Izuku was currently not treating you like the winter princess you deserved to be treated as. At this moment he was out doing patrols and other related hero work instead of tending to your very important needs.

What was even the point of doing all that work if his so-called ‘love of his life’ was sad, frustrated, and alone? It was easy for you to take the holidays off, granted you weren’t the #1 hero, but even still, your fiancé being in such high stature should make it easier to take days like this off, right? Surely, he was doing this to get back at you for something. After-all, he said he’d definitely be home by 4 p.m., and yet here it is closing in at 8:25 p.m, and you’ve yet to see even a text message from the man.

You even went out to get his specially crafted gift this morning so that he’d have something to look forward to on Christmas. And now you were regretting that. He didn’t deserve anything special from you after pulling a no-show on his own fiancé on Christmas Eve.

*brrrring!* *brrrring!*

“Arf! Arf! Arf!”

The sound of the timer going off alerted you of the cookies being done and temporarily brought you out of your pity session. It also alerted you and Midoriya’s one-year old puppy who was always so excited to hear when it seemed food was ready.

“Calm down, Mighty. You can’t have sugar cookies, remember? They aren’t good for you.”

Quickly wrapping an apron around your waist, you tucked on the oven mitt and carefully placed the cookies from the oven to the kitchen counter.

“Arf! Arf!”

“You are so needy, aren’t you? You look like Izu but you have my personality.” You reached into the cabinet above you to grab the dog treats you stored away. Grabbing two of the biscuits, you bent down to hand them to your puppy. “Here baby, you can have these.”

Satisfied with how happily little Mighty was chopping on the treats, you decided to wait for your own treats to cool before decorating them. Going to sit down on the couch, you grabbed the remote to flick on the television, an attempt at distracting yourself from current frustrations.

A bad decision considering everything broadcasted now seemed to deal with lovers and families coming together for the holidays. The cheery smiles and rosy cheeks on the actors’ faces made you burn with jealousy as you sat fiancé-less in your home.

“Jake! You actually…you actually came back to me for the holidays!”

“Of course, I did Katherine. I wouldn’t miss spending Christmas with you for the world.”

You sucked your teeth at the overly-dramatic displays of affection, deciding to turn off the T.V. all together. Rubbing your fingers along the bridge of your nose, it seemed even Mighty took pity on you, as he jumped on the couch to snuggle his little body into yours. Picking him up and cuddling him into your chest, you fantasized about your fiancé walking through those doors. How he’d pick you up and carry you to the bedroom, peppering kissing along your face and telling you how-

*clink!*

The sound of the door unlocking made your heart jump and Mighty to jump from your arms to run to the door, barking in excitement at who’d soon walk through.

“Heheh~ Hello little Mighty. Did you take care of Y/N while I was gone?”

“Arf! Arf! Arf!”

His tail wagged enthusiastically as Midoriya bent down to rub all around his ears. “You did? Such a good boy.” Standing back up, he looked at your figure still sitting on the couch, arms folded and lips formed into a pout. “I’m sorry I’m late, baby. Some things came up on the way home.” Putting down his gear by the door, he walked into the kitchen, immediately in amazement at the cookies you seemed to bake for him. “You made cookies? They smell so good, can we eat them now?”

Standing up, you hastily walked to the kitchen, grabbing away the pan of cookies before Midoriya could grab one. “No. They aren’t for you.” You placed the pan on the farther end on the kitchen counter, further symbolizing your statement.

Midoriya let out a small giggle, finding a bit of amusement in your bratty displays. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you into him before squeezing you into a tight hug from behind. “That’s okay, you look and smell much better than those cookies anyways.” He attempted to kiss you on the cheek, but you moved your head away with a click of the tongue. “Plus, you look so delicious in that apron. I never get to see you look so much like a little housewife.”

You forcefully pulled yourself away from Midoriya’s embrace before placing folded arms once again under your breasts. “Well I’m not a housewife. Or a wife, it seems.”

Finding your comment to hit a bit below the waist, he furrowed his eyebrows at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You huffed out a puff of air, standing there briefly before brushing past him out of the kitchen. “Y/N!” Ignoring his calls, you entered the bedroom and Midoriya heard the loud shut of the door.

Deciding to give you time to calm down, Midoriya let you be as he stripped down to hop in the shower. As the hot water beat down his back, he thought about how to best analyze his current dilemma with you. He was no stranger to your more rebellious attitudes, but it seemed today you were actually pissed at him. And he could admit that you had reason to be.

This was the first holiday that the two of you were to spend together since becoming engaged. You even baked cookies for him. Wearing an apron at that. Given the amount of work you had piled up yourself throughout the year, you never really had the time to show such cute displays of love. You were probably even excited to have a couple days to play a cute housewife for him, and to you, he probably ruined that by not being home for half the day.

But you needed to understand as well. That given his position in society he couldn’t just take days off no matter how special the occasion. It didn’t matter how much previous overtime he worked, or how many villains he’d catch. It didn’t matter how badly he wanted to be home with you. How badly he wanted to have you curled up in his arms, sitting by the fireplace while munching on cookies very much outside the both of yours’ diet. He wanted that just as much as you did, but what he wanted even more was to be a hero. To be your hero. And it’d take sacrifices from the both of you to continue to be that.

As Midoriya stepped out of the shower, he dried himself off with one of the fancy towels you must have recently decorated the bathroom with for the holidays. Chuckling to himself, he put on a pair of pajama pants and went to retrieve a bag that he left under his gear. As he opened the door to the master bedroom, he was met with your curled up back, the light of the phone screen illuminating your side profile.

“You know…it’s still just Christmas Eve, babe.” Midoriya approached the side of the bed, placing the small gift bag on the dresser. “We still have Christmas to spend with each other.”

Continuing to face away from him, you scrolled mindlessly on your phone. “Christmas Eve has the word ‘Christmas’ in it. So that makes it Christmas. Which means you missed Christmas, Izuku.”

“Don’t be like that, Y/N. You’re a hero yourself, so you know how demanding this life is.”

“I-…I know. I just- I just wore something so special today and it doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Wore?

“Doesn’t matter anymore? There’s still a couple hours of Christmas Eve, Y/N.” His words seemed to fall on deafened ears as you stayed silently scrolling on your phone. Sighing, Midoriya pulled out a long black box from the gift bag and held it in his hand. “So, you don’t want your Christmas present?”

His lips curled into a smile at how your head perked up from the mention of a gift. “I was going to wait until the Christmas that is tomorrow but since you’re so upset, I’ll give it to you tonight.” Despite a stern exterior, Midoriya truly thought you were like a puppy. So whiney and mean until you got the treat you felt like you earned. Well today was training day.

“You got me a gift, Izu?” You straightened up to sit on the edge of the bed, curious eyes falling from his shirtless physique to the long black box in his hand. The velvety material informed you that this was no ordinary gift. “What is it?”

“Something only fit for a princess.” Your lips started to match Midoriya’s curled ones as you jumped up and got closer to him. Your hand started to reach for the box before he held away from your reach.

“I said only fit for a princess.”

“I- I am a princess! C’mon let me see it~!”

“I don’t know, Y/N. You didn’t even share any cookies with me…”

“They’re your cookies! All of them! Lemme see, lemme see!”

Midoriya continued to keep the box from your reach, finding your switching between excitement and pouting to be cute. “You said you wore something special, right? And as beautiful as you look in those pajamas, I’m sure that’s not what you were referring to.”

You fiddled with the first button on your top, your facial expression becoming more flustered. “But…I’ve been wearing it for some hours now. I probably wore out that new feel to it…”

“Good. It probably matches your smell now.”

After hesitating for a brief period, you finally undid the first button, slowly continuing to undress yourself. Midoriya watched with a quiet gaze, still clutching onto the box in hand. After unbuttoning the top, you slipped off your pajama pants before sliding off the top, fully revealing your gift to him.

“Wow…” You were wearing a dark green lingerie, specially made in order to hug you in all the right areas. Midoriya could tell by the side cut-outs on your stomach that it was designed to mimic his hero-costume. The lacy garter and its belt accentuated your waist and thighs even more than they naturally did on their own.

But the perfect icing on the cookie was simply your face. The way that even the dim bedroom light seemed to make your e/c eyes glimmer in illumination. How your pouty lips formed the perfect bow. And best of all, how despite that pout, you still seemed to look innocent to him. Most days you looked more sexy or daring. But tonight, despite such erotic attire, to Midoriya you never looked more cute.

“Do you like it…?”

Midoriya put the box down on the vanity, meeting your reply with rough hands that massaged all around your body. The little whimpers that left your lips as he squeezed softly at your laced breasts sounded like carols in his ears. “You really are a princess,… princess.”

“T-That’s what I said. Can I have my gift now…my green-haired prince?”

Midoriya chuckled as he guided you by the waist to stand directly in front of the vanity’s mirror. He hands continued to roam and squeeze around your body as he looked at your reflection. “My princess can have whatever she wants. Just let me see all of you, baby.”

You slowly took the box in your hand, firstly inspecting the exterior. The velvet felt so soft in your hands, a savory compliment with the rough caresses from your fiancé. Carefully opening it, the shimmering of the contents greeted your eyes as Midoriya’s lips greeted the tenderness of your neck.

It was a headband. But not just any headband. An elegant one; fully decorated in the most precious of diamonds. You even recognized the rare diamond cut as being the same kind as the one adorning your ring finger currently. The shine of its beauty bouncing off the dim lamp’s light brought a tear to your eye.

“I figured since you’re my princess, you deserved the finest of crowns.” Midoriya’s hands slipped down your arms to cradle your hands that were clutching tightly on the velvet box. “Should I crown you?”

You silently nodded, wiping a stray tear that streamed down your cheek. Looking into the mirror, you saw your fiancé once again embellish you with diamonds. The bejeweled headband seated snuggly around your head, you couldn’t help but feel like you were truly wearing a crown. “It’s so beautiful, Izuku…” Your eyes shifted to Midoriya’s, who was looking at your reflection with the merriest of smiles.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder before looking back at you. “Only because you’re wearing it, princess.” His hands slid down to your waist, squeezing at your laced flesh. “I think it’s only right for you to do your princess duties now, Y/N.”

You shifted your head sideways to side-eye your fiancé quizzingly. “What do you mean? What duties?”

Midoriya kissed your neck once more as he slid one hand over your lacy garter, into your panties. He slowly rolled his fingers around your folds, pleased with how you were already a little wet for him. He could thank your materialism for that. “It’s only right for you to make an heir.”

“N-No way…”

“You don’t want children with me, Y/N?”

Midoriya’s question rang through your ear as his fingers slickly circled your clit. “You want children with me?”

You felt a puff of air hit your skin as Midoriya softly chuckled at your question. “Well…It’d be a lie to say I haven’t thought of filling you up with puppies. And tonight-“ Midoriya slipped a finger inside your pussy, curving it to graze right against your g-spot. “You looked so damn cute in that apron. If I were home to see you baking cookies in that, you’d already be plump with my future children.”

Midoriya slipped another finger inside, using the pad of his hand to continue stimulating your throbbed clit. “Izu~!” His other hand slithered up to your breast, squeezing and twisting at your nipple from outside its lacy barrier.

“Look at yourself, princess.” Your eyes that had drifted to the vanity’s surface aligned back at their reflection. The headband atop your head shimmered beautifully through the mirror. “Imagine how stretched out that garter will get when your tummy swells with my kid.”

A sinful moan escaped you, the thought of having Midoriya’s children starting to lustily plague your mind. As he continued playing with your sponge like an instrument, you felt your stomach bulge with an oncoming orgasm. “I-Izuku~ ! Gonna cum!” And right on queue it seemed, Midoriya had quickly slipped his fingers out of you, your whine sounding as beautiful as your crown.

“Not yet, Y/N. I researched that its better to cum closer to when a person’s semen is ejaculating inside the womb. It increases chances of impregnation.”

Catching your breath from your failed orgasm, you bent down so your face hovered over the vanity’s surface. With your back elegantly arched, your ass pressed against the hardness of Midoriya’s cock that stood proudly inside his pajama pants. Reaching your hand behind you, you slipped your fingers under the crotch of your panties, pulling them to the side. Your puffy lips looked so soft, and your drenched hole seemed to wait achingly for your fiancé to fill it. “T-Then ejaculate, you nerd~”.

Licking his lips, Midoriya freed his cock from his pants, giving it a couple jerks as he admired the view of your pussy. Noticing some of your juices were drooling onto the floor, he placed the head of his cock under you, collecting your leaking before rubbing along your folds. He teased you by poking the tip at your clit, relishing in your whine-filled moans that reverberated in his ears. “My princess is so fucking gorgeous.” He slipped the tip in, your entrance now hugging him tightly around the head. “Gonna look even more gorgeous with my child taking up all the room in that tummy.”

As he sunk his cock in, the stinging stretch of it made you impulsively tighten your walls even more around him. “Oh my god- Izuku~!” There was never a time where the thickness of Midoriya’s cock didn’t take you by a slightly painful surprise. When he was half-way in, he paused to check in after your thighs started to quiver. He noticed your lull in breathing as you held your breath in.

“Breathe, baby.” He reached his hand around your thigh to twiddle with your clit. “You need a little help? Don’t worry.” You nodded, succumbing to the onslaught of pleasure brought on by Midoriya’s fingers. “You always struggle to take my cock at first.” The sounds of your moans filled the bedroom as your stretched pussy relaxed around his cock. “But then you end up taking me- “. Feeling you grow slicker with each flick at your clit, Midoriya slowly sunk the entirety of his cock inside you. “-All the way to the hilt.”

His balls softly slapped against your clit and your walls twitched around him. With fingernails scratching against the surface, you looked behind you to meet his lustful green eyes. “You- You’re all the way in?”

He replied with a chuckle before bringing his hand toward your face, squishing your cheeks tenderly between his fingers. “That’s right. Look-“ Guiding your face to look back into the mirror, he started to gently thrust inside you. “Look at how well you’re taking me, baby. My cock fits so snug inside my princess.”

“Ohh shit~ Izuku-!” Midoriya’s increased his pace, his cock seeming to grow even more at how your silky pussy hugged around him. “You’re getting biggerrr~! Feels good!” You started to jerk your hips back to meet his thrusts, now balancing yourself on your forearms that rested on the vanity.

“Are you going to cum? Going to get your womb nice and ready for me?” Midoriya wrapped his scarred hands around the sides of your waist, squishing hard enough for your fat to plunge through his fingers. “Keep looking at your beautiful face in the mirror, Y/N. I want to see and hear you call my name when you cum.”

Midoriya pumped his cock vigilantly inside you while your pussy fluttered pleasingly around him. You looked at yourself in the mirror, in awe at how drunkenly you had become for him. The elegant band that was fit on your head was practically a juxtaposition against your lecherous facial expressions. Your mouth gaped open for delirious moans to pour out, while saliva drooled down your chin onto the vanity. Certainly no proper look for a princess you thought.

As the head of Midoriya’s cock plunged against your spongy sweet spot, your hands gripped at the edge of the vanity, desperate for stability. “Izukuuu…~”

“Go ahead, princess. Please cum for me.”

You tried to keep looking at your reflection but your eyes drifted to the back of your head as the pressure of your orgasm swelled inside your core. “I’m cumming~! Izuku! I’m cumming~!”

The feeling of your pussy convulsing around Midoriya’s cock made him grunt as he reached his own orgasm. His fingernails dug into your flesh, almost breaking skin while his thrusts became more jerky and erratic. “Fuck! Y/N- You feel so good-! Gonna cum inside you-!”

You felt the warm thickness of his cum filling you inside, his cock pulsating with every spurt. He slowly slid in and out of you as he calmed down and his grip around your waist softened. Regaining his breath, he slipped completely out of you, a bit of his cum dripping out as well. He slipped his hands under your chest to stand you up before gently gripping you behind the neck to pull you into a kiss.

The kiss was sloppy and wet as you were too in-the-clouds to pay attention where you moved your tongue. You simply whined as he sucked on the pink muscle, gripping on his bicep to maintain your balance. Midoriya lapped up the drool from your chin before licking at the inside of your mouth again.

Finally separating his lips from yours, he gave a squeeze to your ass before pushing you down on the bed. “Are you ready to be bred, princess?” He cradled his hands under your knees, pushing them up to be positioned by your breasts.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused at his question. “B-But you just came. You came inside…”

He chuckled as he rubbed the tip of cock along your folds, gathering up the drooly mix of your juices and his seeped cum. “You didn’t think one time would be enough, did you? We have to make sure you get completely filled up, Y/N. Otherwise the chances of you getting pregnant won’t be so high.”

He sunk his cock inside of you again, the new mating-like position making it so his cock aimed directly against your now tender g-spot. The oversensitivity of it make you whine loudly as your hands reactively came up to press against his abs, attempting to slow him down. “Its-! Its too sensitive right now-! Wait a second~”

Midoriya shushed you as he took one of your hands in his, placing it beside your head as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “Ssshh…You’re not supposed to be bratty anymore, remember?” His balls pressed against your ass as he filled you once more all the way to the hilt. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix made a high-pitched moan leave your lips. “You took it so well before, so just do it one more time, okay?”

His hips grinded against yours as he took slow and deep thrusts inside your pussy. The feeling would have been sensual if it wasn’t for your current high levels of sensitivity. You could feel the head of his cock glide against each rib of your pussy’s walls before softly poking your cervix. The fingers that were entangled with your fiancé’s tightened with each thrust. “M-My cervix~ Too fucking big~”

Midoriya leaned down to press delicate kisses around your face, admiring how your moans were now sent directly into his ear. “I’ll be careful, okay? I can move how I want as long as I don’t hit it, right?” You nodded, a bit nervous at the foreshadowing question.

Midoriya straightened his torso, his hands finding their place back on your thighs as he put all nearly all his weight on you. Taking his cock almost entirely out of you, he quickly submerged it back inside, making sure to stop before he hit your wall. Although not reaching your cervix, he still made sure to properly grind against your g-spot, making your pussy even soppier than before.

His cock plummeting in and out of your pussy made squelching noises as the creamy mixture of your fluids spurt out on your thighs. Your hands wrapped around his forearms, fingernails scratching against the flesh. Your breathing became harsh pants as your tongue lolled out from between your lips. You feel yourself about to reach another orgasm and the throbbing of Midoriya’s cock told you he was at the same state.

“You-You’re gonna make me cum again~!”

“Me too, Princess. Are you going to take more of my cum?”

Nodding profusely, you focused on the growing bulge inside your stomach. “Y-Yeahh~!!” Bringing your hands up to his muscled shoulders, you looked euphorically into his green eyes. “Kiss me! Please~!”

Without any hesitation, Midoriya leaned down chest-to-chest, sloshing his tongue with yours. Saliva trailed down your cheeks as you mingled your fingers in his curly locks. His cock now hitting you in deeper places, your pleasure would override the kissing at your cervix. As you came around his cock, you felt once again the hot spills of Midoriya’s semen filling your womb. You moaned whinefully into his mouth as he continued to slowly thrust into you. The lubrication of his cum making his strokes slicker.

Ending the kiss, Midoriya wrapped his arms around your back, cupping your body into him as he started to pound into your pussy once more. The pleasurable feeling was too intense, making you barely able to think anymore. “F-Fuughh~!! Ijhuku!!”

“Just one more time, princess. Okay?” His thrusts now shallow and deep, you became lost in delirium as his cock relentlessly plundered into your pussy. “Wow, look- You’re feeling good even when I’m hitting your cervix, aren’t you? Taking me this deep- You’re going to be so full of my kids.”

“I-Ijhukuz babieess~!!”

“Heh~ If only we were still by the mirror, you could see how you look right now, all drunk from my cum.” He reached his thumb down circle at your clit, making your pussy clench around him in reaction. “Gosh, can you hear how mushy you are, princess? You’re so fucking soft inside. So perfect for me.”

“Guh-Guhmming~!!” Desperate to seek a break from the continuous pounding against your overstimulated sponge, you squirmed your hips around, pushing your hands against Midoriya’s shoulders in attempt to escape his grasp.

“Just hold still, okay? I’m- I’m almost there-“ Grunting behind gritted teeth, he wrapped his powerful arms around your head to further lock you in place.

“Haaahh~! Ijhuuu-!” Your thighs quaked intensively at Midoriya’s more rapid and deep thrusts as he chased his final orgasm. Pitchy and incoherent babbles filled his ears, further gratifying his desires. “Y-Yur cumm~ Sho full-! Sho full of- Ijhukuz cum~! Sho muchh~!”

“Oh fuck, princess. Your pussy and voice- Fuck! So cute-!” Midoriya’s pants became erratic and gaspy as his cock throbbed inside you. With a couple of longer and harsher strokes he finally released the last of his load inside your womb, a bit of it seeping out onto the bed from there not being much room for more.

Without slipping out of you, Midoriya straightened his back, smiling while he looked at your blissed-out face. He maneuvered your leg to the other side of his hip so that you’d be rested on your side. Laying down with his chest against your back, his hands caressed the area below your stomach, admiring how plump it became with his cum.

“I can’t wait to see how you beautiful you look in the next few months…” Peering at your side profile, he noticed you were deep in slumber. Pressing soft kisses to your shoulder, he gave a couple of gentle strokes, as if verifying that his cum was properly preserved inside you. Satisfied, he cradled his arm under your head, continuing to stroke your stomach lovingly as he closed his eyes.

“But we’ll have fun until then won’t we, princess?”

Taglist (if your name is unlinked, I was unable to tag): @bnha-free-writing @amelietheslut @waifutiddies

#deku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #pro hero!midoriya x reader #pro hero!deku x reader #midoriya smut #izuku smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #12 days of xxxmas #12 days of kinkmas #xxxmas #kinkmas #🎁 cay's xxxmas 2020

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danniburgh · 4 years ago

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Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 20

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.3k

Chapter warnings: more feelings, the whole truth, brief mention of drugs, a lot of tears lmao

A/N: This chapter is set after season three, episode nine. // I AM SO FUCKING SORRY in advance, i think this and the next 2 are gonna be heavy for me and you so... yeah, WE ARE ALMOST DONE GUYS KEEP YOUR CHINS UP THIS IS GONNA END WELL!!!!

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

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gif: @bestintheparsec

If Javier hadn’t seen you cry like you were crying in front of him, he would have thought it was a joke.

A bad, sick, horrible joke.

But there you were, shaking and crying and bracing yourself and standing in front of him telling him you knew things he didn’t know and your name wasn’t your name and he wasn’t even your boss as if he not only needed to know he was being used but he deserved it. As if he could avoid to think everything you had told him before wasn’t a complete lie. Bullshit.

He stood up straight and took his eyes off you. He couldn’t bear to look at you shaking like a small puppy trapped in the cold rain, he couldn’t bear to look at you like that because he was fighting with himself and the need to rush and hold you and tell you everything was going to be fine when he knew and you knew and he knew you knew nothing would be the same. As if he wasn’t angry, furious, infuriated.

You let out a sob, because you knew he was about to avoid looking at you at all costs.

“Well,” Javier let out, “I’m sorry if I don’t say it’s nice to meet you,” and then he laughed bitterly, shaking his head, “who the fuck are you?” his face quirked in something you, between tears, could recognize as anger and pain.

“I–” you mumbled, but he cut you off.

“I’m giving you one chance to explain everything to me,” he hardened his voice and you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from crying, he lifted a finger in front you, “just one, take it,”

“Javier,” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“Are you even DEA?” he scoffed and crossed his arms on his chest, “since you knew things I didn’t and your name isn’t your name, are you even an agent?” you only got to nod “so why,” he breathed in before continuing “why are there CIA reports with your signature?” he turned with a scowl on his face and with one hand he skimmed through all the pages on that file, “you kept tabs on me,” he said, purposefully not looking at you “fuck,” he tapped several times on the last one “you did fool me.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” you sighed out, it was really hard for you to breathe.

“What wasn’t supposed to happen?” he chewed out “you telling me? or you with me? or you in my bed? or me fucking you? what?”

“Stop,” you pleaded, not having the energy anymore to chase his eyes “let me explain,”

“No,” he shook his head and flared his nose in anger “you’re not worth listening to, get out,”

“At least let me tell you the truth,” you pleaded again.

“I have it here!” he smacked his hand on the files and you jumped out, startled at the way he raised his voice out of the sudden.

But you didn’t blame him, you only blamed yourself, but that self-preservation instinct inside of you was forcing you to keep on pushing him to listen to you and your reasons. It was forcing you to keep pushing him, even when you knew he was already at his limit.

“Please, let me explain everything,” you pleaded again. Javier shook his head and fought himself harder to stop from looking at you and reach for you and hold you because you just sounded so broken. But you were breaking him.

“Get out,” he whispered, half a plea and half a demand, you shook your head.

“Read them,” you sniffed and cleared your throat “read the last few reports, please,” you were hating how much you were shaking and he glanced at you for less than a second, and you cried at how short it felt. Javier took you in with that glance and as if it wasn’t enough, his chest tugged at the sight of your puffy eyes and the tears that dampened your cheeks. He indulged and skimmed through them “see how they get shorter? see how they get briefer? how they get–”

“Shittier? he cut you off “so you did a bad job, what about it?”

You bit your lip and breathed in and out twice.

“That was the point!” you let out, “fuck, Javier,” you finally found your voice inside your chest and you went off “I’ve been wanting to tell you everything for the longest fucking time, I just couldn’t, I swear I wanted to tell you ever–”

“Since when,” he cut you off again. You looked at him and tried to get him to look at you but he didn't.

“There were so many nights where I just wanted to tell you everything, but it just wasn’t safe for either of us! I swear I did planned to te–”

“Since when?” Javier raised his voice again and you sighed.

You closed your eyes for a few seconds, feeling more tears sliding down your cheeks.

Javier allowed himself to glance at you in those few seconds that you closed your yes, and tightened his jaw. How the fuck he had allowed all that shit to happen? He had asked you a question he wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer off, but then you opened your eyes and he painfully unglued his gaze from you.

“Since the first time you kissed me,” you muttered out. Javier shook his head several times and turned around to stop seeing you.

“Get out,” he pointed to the door.

“Javier, please,” your voice broke again and you saw his shoulders raise and drop several times.

“I don’t want to listen to you,” his voice was low and deep and hurt and you bit your lip again to stop your sobs from coming out. You threw your head back and looked at the ceiling, fisting and releasing your hands at the impotence you felt because he just didn’t want to listen to you.

And you knew this would happen, you knew it. How could you’ve been so stupid to think that if you explained everything to Javier, he would just take it as the historical truth and just… forgive you? How could you’ve been such an idiot to believe so little of him?

Since the first time you had seen him you knew he was a man of straights and grays, you knew he hated lies; you knew he hated liars. Hell, he hated himself for being one. But somehow, deep in your chest, in your… heart, you thought, you imagined, you hoped he would make an exception for you.

But he wasn’t, not for you, not for anybody, not even for himself.

He just wasn’t.

Javier closed his eyes once he had you out of his sight, he had so much in his head, the thoughts were pouring down like the restless stream of an overflowing river cascading to a bottomless drowning lake; so much to think about, so much to say, but nothing was coming out.

He was hurt, he recognized that one emotion. Pure, deep, raw hurt, he could feel it burning his insides and turning his guts into ashes. Fuck. He didn’t like the pain, he had spent years and years of his life running away from the pain. How could he had been so stupid to allow himself to get to that point? How could he had been such a fucking idiot to let you do that to him? How? When he had become an expert at running away from his own emotions? Why?

He brushed a hand through his hair and tried to regain his composure, but it was nearly impossible. The pain inside him started to feel physical, it was as if someone had shot him directly on the chest over his kevlar; the air knocked out of his lungs. He was struggling to breathe properly. He was about to burst.

He felt a foreign sting inside his throat that he knew exactly what meant. He wasn’t about to cry. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of showing you how much he cared.

Even if you already knew.

“Javier,” you called him.

“Get out,”

“I will, I promise I’ll go,” you sobbed out and Javier felt disgusted by himself for being so weak at the sound of your sobs, he rolled his hands into fists and forced his body to stay put in place “I just want you to understand why I did it.” Javier rolled his eyes and raised a hand to press his eyes shut.

“Get the fuck out, please just get out,” his voice sounded like a plea and a beg and a demand altogether and you snapped at the way he was just trying to escape from an explanation that you were more than willing to give him. An explanation he deserved.

“No!” you raised your own voice, “you dragged me into this! now you have to listen to me!” you accused. Javier turned around, his face quirked in confusion and bewilderment and pain and anger.

“Me?” he raised his voice as well, his finger landing on his chest several times “I dragged you into this? you’re not a child! you made a choice!” he let out, shaking his head.

“I tried to grab onto any excuse to not start this, Javier, you know that!” you reminded him, and he let his hands rest on his waist “Javier, it was never my intention to hurt you.”

Javier barked out a laugh.

A stinging, humourless, deep hurting laugh that landed inside the crevices of your chest and hung from every nerve of your being.

“Well, I’m hurt,” he said, finally facing you “you lied to me,” his face was a mess of emotions you couldn’t read “you lied to me on my fucking face.” he gritted out, walking towards you.

“I know, and I’m sorry” you said under your breath, his face was inches away from yours and he frowned and shook his head. You closed your eyes because out of the sudden his cologne invaded your nostrils and you cried harder at the thought of never getting to smell him again.

“And you know what’s even worse?” he rhetored, you opened your eyes and quickly his eyes were on yours, but that time, his brown, soft eyes were hardened, as if fossils had taken over his orbs and his face was a mean scowl and his hands were so far away from your body rolled into fists that it ached deep in your chest how much you were hurting him, “that I fell for it, for all of it, and I fell for you.”

Javier didn’t seem to realize what he had said, but you did and as he put distance between him and you, your eyes filled with thick tears once again, and you didn’t try to stop them from falling and falling and falling.

He fell. He fell for you.

How? How could you let everything go to that point? You knew you knew it, you fool.

Crash, crash, crash, crash.

Ugly, messy, bloody, heart wrenching.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, putting his hands on his waist once again, looking at you, expectant. You shook your head. “then why did you do it?”

His eyes on you were heavy, you remembered that time he looked at you in a crowded elevator and made you forget everything about yourself, and that time you wondered if he was ever going to look at you like that. And there, with him expecting the explanation you were offering, you had your answer.

And you saw him, standing before you, hands on hips, his thinking stance, waiting for you to finally deliver the so-called explanation you wanted and pleaded to give him. But your throat was closed, your voice was nowhere to be found, and you wanted to crawl into a ball and just rock yourself to a deep, all-forgetting sleep.

God, you were so tired.

It took you an entire minute to find your voice from the deep confines of your voided, pained chest.

“Re–remember what I told you the first time we mad–the first time we were… together?” you sobbed out. He closed his eyes and nodded.

How he could fucking forget? It had elated him, that entire fucking day, everything seemed so hopeful, he remembered thinking that he didn’t want to do what he did to you with anyone else. Before you could continue, he allowed himself to grieve that moment and you saw him raise a hand to his chest.

“That was true, most of it,” you assured him. Javier didn’t look at you once he opened his eyes and you, yet again, tried to search for his eyes. Fuck the hour you had let them become your comfort. “after what happened in México, I did get suspended and, fuck,” you brushed away your tears, freeing the way for new ones to fall “I really liked this job,” you chuckled sorely to yourself “but the drugs, and… everything else, I just knew I was screwed,” you sniffed. Javier bit the inside of his cheek and sighed.

Yet another fucking thing you two were more than alike.

He was hating it, loathing it; the way he wanted to brush every single goddamned tear that was falling down your face, the way he just wanted to reach to you, to let you feel him, the way he fucking needed to touch you and then wake up for whatever new fucking nightmare he was having.

“I was marked,” you choked down another sob and sniffed again, you hated being this vulnerable, this exposed, you were dropping your mask and the process of peeling it was so wretchedly painful. You hated that your vision was so flooded with tears you weren’t able to read Javier and just get a glance, a tiny peak at what he was feeling, “marked not only for being a woman, but by every single shitty thing I did up there,” he sighed “so, the CIA approached me, and took advantage of my situation.”

Javier wanted to scream, wanted to punch something, break anything, he wanted so much to stop relating to you and your reasons. It was as if he was looking at himself in the mirror and he didn’t like it. It was as if some all mighty God had already realized what he had done in the past and just started to punish him. And he was so angry that you were that punishment, that you, of all things, of everything he thought good, were the one chosen to deliver his punishment.

You, oh so perfect you, so beautiful, so smart, so good, so strong you. You were the one chosen to break him. He wanted to stop seeing the undeniable parallel between you and him being forced to do things by the pure nature of your jobs, by leverage and advantage and just be angry, he just wanted to feel his anger and allow himself to hate you, but he just couldn’t. Not when you were there, standing in front of him, bawling out everything for him, undressing yourself to him, yet again, passing him the control of things. Ironic. He thought, he always had the impression he already had it.

“A precarious situation,” you explained, wetting your lips and taking a deep breath “they assured my job back if I took a six-month assignment for them, they wanted me to ke–”

“Keep an eye on me,” Javier cut you, looking at you with hardened, glistening eyes. You had to drop your gaze to the floor. What the fuck were you doing to him?

Fool, you fool, you stupid, horrible fool. Don’t you see you’re hurting him? Just leave him alone!

“Yeah,” you sighed out, sniffing again, seeing how your tears dropped straight to the floor, “and report all your movements back to them to… shit.”

“To what?”

You shook your head, not being able to lift your gaze from the floor, Javier looked at you and studied what he thought he knew about you. Which at that point he thought it was nothing but your actual name and the way your body quirked and spasmed under his touch. But maybe that was fake too. He saw the way you were hunched under yourself and an amazing yet brief moment of clarity struck him and he knew what you were going to say, fuck he knew, and he let himself smile at the expectation of your answer. For once having a little bit of a leverage.

“To avoid another Los Pepes scenario.” you whispered.

He laughed bitterly. And your chest shrunk at the sound.

Of fucking course.

That’s how you knew, that why you asked him about that the same fucking day you had told him about why you were in Colombia, the day you lied to him, to his face, on his bed, in his arms, after he had let you fuck him, after he had devoured you for the first time

Fucking shit, how he wanted to scream.

His smile became a snarl as soon as the memory of your body pressed against his came back to his head.

“Fuck me,” he shook his head and tightened his jaw.

“I didn’t understand at first why they looked at you like such a menace,” you said, not daring to look at him, and Javier hated it, he hated how you had hung your head low and looked at the carpeted floor, he hated it because he had seen you in your most confident self so many times, he had engraved in his mind the way you would handle yourself as if you were the owner of every building you ever stepped on, but then? right there? you just looked like a selfless child, like a hurt, abandoned girl. Fuck him. How could he keep thinking about you like that when while you looked like it you were destroying everything he had ever thought of you and whatever the fuck it was you two had? “then I met you.”

“So I’m a menace?” he snarked.

“For people like them? of course you are, Javier,” you let out a sigh and shook your head “they painted you as this… monster, that didn’t care about anything but getting shit done in any way you could,” you shrugged and lifted your head to look at him “but you do care, you care a lot.”

He didn’t say anything at the last statement you blurted out.

A thick, foggy silence fell upon you, you could feel it prickling around your face, eating your tears, you were sure that if you pulled out your tongue you could taste it, you could feel it, sneaking inside your ears and screaming at you. You never thought a silence could be so loud. But it was, a deafening silence.

Javier turned and walked to the desk, sitting on the edge and skimming through the other files that you had handed him, some of them were just more information about the corrupt politicians and some more about the cartel in itself. He didn’t say a word about the obvious and illicit origin of the files and for that you were grateful.

“I really thought,” your voice broke the silence again, and he seemed to ignore you “I thought I was doing good,” you closed your eyes, he wasn’t looking at you, yet again, “and then I got to see how things really were down here and… I knew instantly everything was just bullshit, just a fucking game,” Javier kept looking at the files and reading them and you wanted to beg him to look at you, you wanted to rush at him and grab his face and make him look at you in the eyes and tell you something, anything, to yell at you, to scream at you, because at the way his silence felt you were sure his screams would hurt less, “they played you, and they played me, and… I’m sorry.”

“Why a DEA agent?” he questioned, closing the file he had just finished reading his hand resting on his thigh and the other on his hip, you frowned “why did they send down someone from the DEA instead of one of their own spies?”

You bit your lip, looking at the way his eyes were empty, void of any display of emotion, looking at the way he turned his face sterner, just as it was the first day you’d met him.

“Uh–because it was cheaper, to just create some sub-identity and I already knew the protocols.” you explained slowly, more for it to sink in to you than to him.

Javier hummed and returned his eyes to the next file, the one with your file. The real one.

You stood there while he read it. Trying to figure out what was going through his head, but as you were so emotionally spent you really couldn’t for the life of you read him anymore.

Javier felt his breath hitch as he read your real name, where you went to school, the fact that you had a master and the amount of time you had spent in México.

And then he chuckled. Under the name of your DEA adjacent’s name and your assigned partner there was your callsign: Flor.

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and pointer and took a deep breath.

“What about your partner?” he cleared his throat “the one that sent you all that intel.”

Your chest dropped again and you felt your eyes fill with tears. Pure guilt and sadness.

“No one in México knew I got suspended, they just thought I got transferred, y’know?” you brushed the few tears that escaped your eyes “so I really did ask them for help, to give us anything on the narcos as we were aware of the connection,” Javier then saw you cover your mouth and sob “I fucking got Marcos fired.” your voice was muffled by your mouth and Javier had to, once again, fight the urge to grab you and pull you flush against his chest and comfort you.

“What else did you lie about?” he asked, not waiting for your sobs to die down, you shook your head.

“No–nothing, I sw–swear,” you sobbed out.

“Okay,” Javier stood from the desk and walked towards you. And for a second, a brief second, you allowed yourself to imagine that he wasn’t going to ask you what he did, and instead, he would brush your tears away, hold you or tell you that he forgave you. What a stupid little thought. “I think we’re done here.”

“Javi,” you called him and he flinched at how high pitched your voice became from the sobbing, he wasn’t looking at you, not really. His eyes were looking past you, “can you look at me?” you begged.

Fuck the hour you had let his eyes become your comfort.

“Get out,” he said, serious faced, lookin at nothing and everything but you.

“Jus–just, look at me? please?”

Javier closed his eyes, bit his lip and shook his head.

And pointed at the door.

“Right,” you tried to control the incoming sobs that were inundating your chest and throat and stood up straight, lining your shoulders and closing your eyes at how hard it was to leave, it was as if you had him glued to you and then you had to peel him off you, you looked at him one last time before turning around and walking towards the door, grabbing your bag in the way.

You didn’t even reach the door to the hallway when you exploded; you had to cover your mouth as you turned away from the entrance and propped yourself on the wall.

You felt like your heart might have actually stopped and you could only imagine how Javier felt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mumbled out, as if he had been still in front of you, as if he could listen.

You had to force yourself to walk into the open elevator and press the lobby button, because you knew that if you didn’t, you would’ve run back to his office and begged Javier to hold you, beg him to forgive you, even when you knew you didn’t deserve it.

Javier saw you walk out and watched your figure shrink at the office door, he had to close his eyes to stop from seeing the way you broke after everything you had told him. He had to turn around and grip the edge of the desk to physically stop himself from running to you, anchor himself to you and tell you he needed you.

Fuck the hour he had let your body become his comfort.

Once he was sure you weren’t there anymore, he opened his eyes, the files you had handed him were in front of him, one last file left to open.

Reluctantly, he took it and opened it.

“Shit,” he whispered. Feeling his breath hitch and his heart stop beating for half a second.

It was your resignation letter.

Just then, and only then, Javier let himself drown in his pain.

“Shit,” he spat through gritted teeth.

God how he wanted to hate you, he really wanted to hate you. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn all the love he had for you into hate. He couldn’t even when he really wanted to.

The guard at the front door didn’t even glance at you when you walked through the embassy doors, and for that you were grateful. When you realized you had driven with Javier to work, you had to cover your mouth again to muffle another sob.

You weren’t even outside the building yet and you were already missing him like crazy.

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cdroloisms · 4 years ago

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more of the ghost!dream au!! still no good names for it, sorry (feel free to give me recs? maybe?) - picking off right where we left off here [x]. i’ve gotten quite a bit of this pre-written already as well as quite a bit planned - it’s definitely one of my favorite universes at the minute and something im really excited to show yall !!

tw: death, memory loss (?), grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy relationship, grief, emotional distress, implied torture/abuse, aftermath of prison arc/pandora’s vault, dark(ish?) portrayal of c!sam (he’s one of the main figures of this au lmao but it grapples quite a bit w/ what he did in pandora)

Sam had only met Ghostbur once.

He never knew the former president well, had been busy with his own base during the Revolution and came back to the server in chaos after an ill-fated election and the man exiled. It hadn’t mattered, much, at the time; Wilbur was an imposing man, even in others’ recollections of him, and their words left very very little to the imagination. From what he knew, Wilbur was a smart man, cunning and silver-tongued, brimming with an unending fountain of belief that he could change the world with his words and his words alone; the server, overrun with memories of scuffles and battles and wars and countries Sam had not been around to remember, only seemed to serve as proof that he could. The few glimpses of the man that he managed to catch showed dark, tired eyes, a figure that stood almost as tall as he did, lips twisted in a perpetual tight-lipped smile.

Even as he spiraled, unexplainably, whispers of madness chasing the wind and landing in choppy fragments in the Badlands meetings held over Skeppy and Bad’s dinner table, those eyes never became less piercing, never failed to seem like they were burning through whatever and whoever they looked at. Sam hadn’t been the subject of that stare many times, but he remembers the bone-deep anxiety from having those eyes on him, even now.

Ghostbur, somehow, was the complete opposite; where his eyes had once been all-too knowing, belying their owners’ intelligence, a ruthless penchant for analysis that would split bone from marrow with a single sharp-edged glance, the phantom’s eyes were completely vacant. Instead of the glossy whites and rings of brown that would flicker warm to cool and warm again without warning, there was only an empty, all-encompassing blue.

He had floated over to Sam following a particularly difficult- session, with the prisoner, greeting him with an airy call of his name as Sam set off to his base for the night. He’d startled, then, still fresh off the adrenaline that was sent coursing through his veins each time he entered those blackstone walls, and started a sort of easy, unfocused conversation as they went along the path to the nether portal.

Ghostbur was - off, for the lack of a better word, even with Sam’s lack of familiarity of either side of the man - who he’d been before and what he’d become. His memories slipped through his mind like water seeping through fingers, and his attention span didn’t seem much better. Still, Sam listened to that echoing, otherworldly voice, nodded along as he eagerly recounted his day - or what he could recall from it, at least, until his feet had brought him along the same well-worn path to the nether portal, spitting purple sparks into the night.

“I’ll have to be going, Ghostbur,” he’d said through a thin smile, muscles aching under netherite as he pulled his shoulders back. The ghost’s head had cocked to the side, watching him with empty eyes, hands outstretched in front of him, palms up.

“Sam-” the ghost blinked slowly, “Are you sad?”

Sam froze. Ghostbur stared at him, face still kept in that same blank expression, eyes still an endless blanket of blue, but something - in his stance, perhaps, in the echoes of his words as they reverberated off of nothing, felt familiar, felt like looking up expecting a window and coming face to face with a shattered mirror - before the phantom’s face broke out in a weightless smile.

“Have some blue!”

The blue was dropped unceremoniously into his hands as he fumbled the catch and nearly let it fall to the ground; the clear, glassy surface of it tainted blue by his fingertips, the color swirling and darkening in his hands. He watched it, mesmerized, as blossoms of blue bloomed beneath his skin; his feelings, sharp-edged, became sea glass tossed in its shifting waves, smoothed, numbed, slowly sucked away in a pulsing chorus of blue blue blue-

“That’s quite a lot of blue,” Ghostbur chirped, and Sam blinked at the thing in his hands - navy, the same color as the sky above their heads clinging to the last remnants of twilight - “Would you like some more?”

“...no thanks, Ghostbur,” Sam looked back up, feeling through the new, blue-tinged fog in his brain, memories blurred at the edges but lacking the same burning sting of regret, “Good night.”

“Good night, Sam!” Wilbur smiled, blank blue eyes trained on his face even as Sam stepped into the portal and the world swirled away. “See you soon!”

---

“Sammy,” Dream walked - no, floated, forwards as Sam took a step back, unresponsive, “is there something wrong?”

Sam swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

He was a spitting image to Dream as he first knew him; the same tousled hair, freckled face, down to the ratty old jacket that he’d insisted on wearing at all times, made of a garish shade of lime-green and covered in customized patches that Bad - unable to resist his puppy eyes - had always ended up fixing the thing with. He had a gap in his teeth that had left him with a lisp for weeks back then, prompting Sapnap’s teasing much to Dream’s annoyance; his head tipped to the side, curious, familiar, and something deep inside Sam’s chest ached.

“Dream-” he tried, chest tightening further when the ghost’s face broke out into a brilliant smile, “why are you here?”

Why do you remember me?

He hadn’t talked to Ghostbur much, but he’d heard, to some degree, about how the ghost operated, how his memories were inconsistent at best, seemingly dependent on the emotions he’d attached to them while alive. How he went through the world in a state of unshakable bliss at the cost of his mind. Dream’s memories of him should’ve been anything but happy; why was he here?

“What do you mean?” Dream blinked at him, eyebrows scrunched, lips set in a small frown. His eyes, black and vacant, seemed to swallow all light, even with the sun streaming through the branches. “Where am I suppos’d to go?”

“Don’t you want to be with George and Sapnap?”

Dream’s face was blank, and the pit in Sam’s gut grew deeper. “Who’s that?”

“George?” Sam could feel his voice begin to tremble, eyes widening. “Sapnap? You know them, right?”

“No?” Dream drew out the word, looking at him like he’d grown another head. “Should I know them?”

“Should you- Dream, this isn’t funny- they’re your best friends! They were your best friends- Pandas? Do you know Pandas?”

“You mean like in the jungles? I haven’t been in a jungle before, Sam, d’you think we could visit one?”

“No- Pandas, do you-” Dream only looked at him with the same confused, uncomprehending expression, not even a flicker of recognition in his face; Sam could hear his heart thudding in his ears, a distant horror growing and wrapping around his throat, “How about Ponk? Alyssa? Calla? Bad?”

Each name did nothing to change the blankness on Dream’s face, the screaming thoughts in Sam’s head growing to a fever pitch when the ghost in front of him shook his head, hair whipping back and forth.

“Nope!” His hands tugged at his hoodie sleeves, the movement familiar in a way that had echoes of long-forgotten memories drifting to the surface, holding his heart in a chokehold and squeezing tight. “Are they your friends?”

“Dream,” he stepped forward - felt a shadow of a pickaxe held in his fists, the shape of the name in his mouth bringing forth the taste of iron and smoke and painting the inside of his eyelids red - and stopped in his tracks. The images melted away, left just a kid standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on nothing, and Sam was going to be sick.

“Who do you remember?”

Dream smiled as the question registered, directing a look of such open, unadulterated adoration his way that it stole all of the air from Sam’s lungs.

“You, dummy!” He laughed, airy and light. “Who else?”

---

He brought him to his base, because what else was he supposed to do?

Dream skipped behind him, entirely enamoured with Fran; he watched as she melted under his enthusiastic scratches at the tufts of fur at her neck. He’d always been a soft touch with animals, had brought home stray mobs more than a few times as a kid; Sam swallowed around his unease and trudged forward.

“Puppy!” He nearly screeched with laughter, and Sam looked back to see Dream with his arms wrapped around Fran’s neck, face buried in her fur as giggles made his shoulders shake. Fran gave him a sloppy lick on the cheek, making him break out into a new round of high-pitched wheezes, “Good girl! Good puppy!”

“Hurry up, Dream,” Sam turned away. “We don’t have all day.”

“Oh- m’sorry,” Dream’s voice quieted, almost seemed to wobble, and Sam bit down on his tongue as they continued to walk back. He- didn’t know what to do, not with this version of Dream, not the little kid he’d half-forgotten instead of the masked monster he’d become so accustomed to. It was so much easier to slip into the mask, let his voice drop cold and deep and empty, the role of the Warden heavy and comfortable like a set of netherite armor. He pointedly kept his eyes staring forward, looking for the edge of the forest they’d ended up stuck in so he could finally see.

A sudden, yipping bark came from behind, thoroughly startling him and sending a sword appearing in a flash of white. He huffed at Fran, looking at him with faux innocent eyes, really?

Unfortunately, both she and Dream had somehow fallen ridiculously behind, the ghost having lowered to the ground at some point as Fran sat and wagged her tail. He rolled his eyes, making his way back towards the duo, feeling irritation press in the form of a headache against the front of his skull.

“Come on,” he muttered, wincing at how clipped his words sounded, even in his own ears. Not the same Dream, Sam. You’re not in the prison anymore. He shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes narrowing as he came closer; Dream hadn’t just stopped because of some distraction, as he first assumed. The kid was leaning against Fran, hands twisted loosely in her fur, head tipped forward and leaning against her body.

“Dream?”

The ghost looked up at his voice, one hand going to rub at his eye. His hair seemed to be moving around less than earlier, lips twisted in a small frown.

“M’sleepy, Sammy,” he mumbled around a yawn, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He reached both hands up, palms facing the sky, as he stared expectantly. “Up.”

Aren’t you a little big to be carried? The retort came to mind as easily as breathing, echoed in his own head by his own voice, younger, exasperated but fond. His arms shook with the memory of a kid wrapping his arms around his neck and fumbling with his crown, with the feeling of a dead weight resting against the crook of his elbows, tall and lanky and far too light for its size, held in his arms one final time-

“Please?”

Sam shook his head.

“We’re walking to my base. Come on.”

#tw death #tw grief #tw torture #tw abuse #prison arc #pandora's vault #tw unhealthy coping mechanisms #tw unhealthy relationship #tw emotional distress #tw memory loss #ghost!dream au #queue <3 #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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cloud9in · 4 years ago

Text

Driving Lessons Pt 2 (Poppy x Bea)

Long awaited. I hope you all enjoy. This is the finale of the series but I think that Bea and Poppy’s high school stories should be continued.....

Read Part 1 HERE

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @baexpoppy @poppysmc @clowneryme @thedaft1 @zigxryanz @aleiramacaii

Word Count: 2.6k

Pt 2: The Date

Friday night had arrived and Bea’s nerves were at an all time high. She practiced breathing exercises that conveniently popped up on Youtube, there was no room for thoughts other than that of a blonde cheerleader. The buzz of her phone prompted her to jump up in excitement.

1 message from Poppy🙄

Poppy: I’m 99% sure that you haven’t forgotten about our “date” tonight. But if you did I’m not here to remind you. I’ll be here in 5 minutes. Remember, dress casual. ❣

A familiar grin crept its way onto Bea’s lips as she reread the message about twenty times, taking note of the heart at the end. It may seem conventional, but even that was a lot coming from Poppy. Another message popped up which induced a smirk from the brunette.

Poppy: No, I am not driving the Benz.

Bea set her phone down and spun around to check herself out in the mirror. She wore black ripped jeans with a red plaid design in the holes, red converse, and an oversized grey and black long sleeve. This should definitely fit Poppy’s definition of casual, right?

The blonde arrived outside of Bea’s house just as she reached the front door. Poppy was the first to react, her jaw threatening to drop open as she took in Bea’s appearance, all of it. Luckily, she was the queen of poker face’s and masked her thirsty expression….Bea on the other hand, failed horribly. She stood there wide eyed, her hands hanging uselessly by her sides as she studied the blonde. Poppy wore a white and pink checkered wool skirt, a knitted pink sweater, and a white crop top. Her jewelry also dazzled brightly against her neck. The blonde watched Bea amusingly, “you can quit ogling me now...:”

Bea darts her eyes away self consciously. “Your uh...jewelry is distracting.” Really Bea. Nice going. She winces at her excuse and Poppy arches an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the flustered mess of the brunette in the moment.

“Hmm..well come now. I don’t like to waste time.”

Like a puppy being offered food, Bea follows Poppy into her silver Range Rover. She gapes at the pristine interior and the stars on the ceiling. “I thought those star things only existed in Rolls Royce’s.” Poppy smirks appreciatively, her fingers flexing on the steering wheel, “Oh they do, but I have my ways.”

Bea tries to convince Poppy to tell her where they’re going, but she scoffs immediately, not even turning her head in the brunette’s direction. “It’s a surprise.”

“I didn’t take you for a girl that likes surprises to be honest.”

“Well then there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Hughes.”

Bea fought the urge to ask Poppy to elaborate, to tell her every last detail about her. What flavor of ice cream she liked, what she loved to do on a rainy day, but there’s that moment of insecurity that pushes her away from indulging in those thoughts. She didn’t want to seem overly-interested.

But maybe that’s what Poppy wanted.

The sudden quietness becomes obvious and Poppy peers over at the brunette, “I could always let you test drive this one. Maybe brush up on your driving skills?” Bea side eyes Poppy suspiciously, memories of Monday night’s driving lessons infiltrating her mind. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious right now..”

“Of course I’m not! You don’t think I remember what you did to my other baby?! You’re lucky you were hurt in the process, otherwise who knows what I would have done…” Poppy glances quietly over at Bea, her eyes carefully scanning the scar that sits on her forehead.

Bea smiles sheepishly, her hand reaching up to move her locks back. “I don’t think I wanna know- wait hey! What do you mean I was lucky-”

“Oh please, you were lucky that I took you to a hospital. You are crazy Hughes, you know that?”

“Crazy for you? Well now that you mention it…”

Poppy rolls her eyes but can’t stop the smile that erupts on her face. “...Just let me take a look at it later. I need to make sure it’s healing right.”

“Whatever you say doctor!” Bea mock salutes the blonde which earns another heavy eye roll, emphasis on heavy, but she didn’t mind. The opportunity to be less than an inch away from Poppy’s luscious lips again? Hell yes.

“Okay, but what did your dad say? I’m sure he understood it was a complete accident.”

“Mhm tell that to the insurance company. Which reminds me, you will be receiving a bill in the mail sometime next week for all the damages.”

Bea nearly leaped out of her seat as her head snapped towards the blonde, who looked like she was having a great time. “Pop...you’re joking right...that is a thing you are doing right now.” Poppy rolls her eyes with enjoyment, letting out a soft chuckle. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Farmsville, I know you can’t even afford a tire.

“Wha-...hey!”

***

After continuous bickering which almost prompted Poppy to unlock the passenger side door and kick Bea out...psychically, while they were doing 80 on the freeway, she eventually pulled into a parking lot. The only main source of light was the huge sign illuminating the words, “Animal Shelter”. Bea blinks in confusion for a few seconds before realizing she was the only one in the car. Poppy had already started walking towards the entrance, greeting a man with a….smile? Oh yeah, Bea was definitely curious now. Poppy actually looked relaxed when Bea had finally caught up with her. The blonde noticed her approach and hummed to herself, “took you long enough, hurry lets go inside.”

“Pops-did you take a wrong turn...this is an animal shelter...”

The blonde rolls her eyes so far back into her brain as she grasps onto Bea’s words. “No I did not take a wrong turn you imb--.....this..this is the place I picked.” The brunette flicks her eyes continuously between Poppy and the entrance before shrugging, a surprised expression on her face. Before Bea could say anything else, Poppy grabs her hand and pulls them into the store and into the column where cute puppies reached for them. A beautiful smile immediately lit up Poppy’s features as she bent down to pet one of the baby bulldogs. This gesture immediately enraptured Bea as she watched...Poppy? Or whoever this was.

Not wanting to disturb the moment Bea leans down to the cage next to her and picks up the golden retriever who happily licks her face. “Woah okay there boy, a little too much tongue.” She holds up the puppy as he barks playfully and wiggles in her arms.

“I’m definitely not complaining about your destination of choice, but can you tell me why you picked it?”

Bea gazes over at Poppy who looks like she’s in her true element. The blonde sighs and stands up, brushing her skirt down. “Well my parents own the place…and well to put it bluntly, some of these animals don’t have much time left.”

She turns towards Bea, watching her safely caress the puppy in her arms, and smiles, “I figured you have a close connection with animals and would want to make them feel loved before they go.”

Bea watches Poppy with a warm look in her eyes, and it was funny because Bea had been around the cheerleader a lot, but this...was different. Almost incredible. And Bea knew that this was the start of a feeling that she would never get enough of.

“I would. Thank you.”

The two girls spend a good amount of time playing with the animals. Poppy helped Bea feed newborn strays with a bottle of milk, more than often grabbing a hold of the brunette’s hand to steady the slight tremble. Bea didn’t want to admit she was nervous because Poppy was very close to her. And Poppy would never admit that Bea was doing everything right, but she wanted to hold her hand because it felt incredibly soft for a girl who worked on a farm everyday.

But she wasn’t the only one who was very observant that night. Bea kept her mouth shut about the situation, but this new side of Poppy blew her mind. There was so much to ask, to say, but the moment was too valuable to ruin.

The time seemed to go by quickly as the shelter started to close down. The time they spent with the animals felt fulfilling but Bea never missed the solemn look on Poppy’s face as she watched one of the older cats rest peacefully. There was so much to learn about the girl, and Bea thought it was best that she kept this date going.

Food. That could work.

“Hey pops...I know I said you could pick the place but there’s somewhere else I want to take you. If you’re up for it.”

If it was anyone else, Poppy probably would have cussed at them for taking up too much of her time. But this was Bea, and something in her couldn’t say no. “As long as it doesn’t involve you and I in a forest alone.” The brunette laughs easily, wrapping her arm around Poppy’s waist without a second thought. “Oh please, do you really think that’s how I’d get rid of you?”

Poppy seems to lean into her touch, letting her strawberry blonde locks brush up against Bea’s cheeks, “I doubt you’d be the one getting rid of me darling, but sure.”

***

“....Alright I take it back! I’ll even let you drive the car because I am not eating at a diner.”

“Oh come on, they have the best milkshakes in town!”

The brunette drags Poppy towards the diner without letting go because if she did, Poppy would probably scream bloody murder in the middle of the lot.

Bea led her towards a booth in the back, only then freeing her arm. Poppy plops into the seat after realizing there was no way she could charm her way out of this. “Don’t look so bummed out, you’ll change your mind when you try the famous strawberry milkshake.”

“I have never had a milkshake in my life.” Poppy visibly cringes, her posture stiffening at the thought of a sugary liquid infiltrating her body.

“Well today is your lucky day baby.” Bea winks at her and calls over a waitress who seems too comfortable with laying a hand on the brunette’s shoulder. It wasn’t evident whether the severe blush on Poppy’s face was because of Bea unknowingly using a pet name or because of the mystery girl who decided to do the most in her presence.

“We’ll have the regular Tasha, oh and the strawberry milkshake please.”

“Just one? What about your friend over here?”

Poppy snaps her head up at the waitress who seemed to scan her every move. Something Poppy was definitely used to. Her hands are the first to make a move, slowly trailing their way up Bea’s arm from across the table. She doesn’t take her eyes off the waitress as she speaks softly. “Oh we’ll be sharing it honey. Put a cherry on top too okay?”

The waitress reverts her eyes from the two and walks away without a word. Poppy watches her leave, biting her lip with satisfaction.

Bea can’t help but smirk to herself. “Oh you cannot take your eyes off of her can you? Relax, she’s an old friend.”

The blonde scoffs, keeping her hands on the surface of Bea’s skin. “I don’t care who she is. Does she flirt with every customer in here? What happened to having class? Or some sort of decent? I mean do you talk to pigs like this?

Bea squints her eyes and sighs warily. “Poppy this is not a five star restaurant, and that’s what you call being polite and kind to well known customers. People here are normal, not trained robots.”

Poppy shrugs to herself, her eyes darting around to the wall decorations and other people who are chatting happily with their families. The atmosphere did feel warm and peaceful, nobody sat up straight and practiced proper table manners. Nobody judged her for who she was or what designer she wore. There was room to actually breathe. Bea could sense the blonde slowly starting to adapt and relax in their new environment and she couldn’t be more grateful for making the right decision. When their food had come, Bea slid the milkshake towards Poppy and smiled shyly. “It’s all yours if you like it, we don’t have to share.”

“Nonsense Hughes, I can’t possibly drink this all by myself…but I call dibs on the cherry.” She steals the cherry from the top and plops it into her mouth, eyes sparkling from the burst of flavor. It was nothing compared to the milkshake though, Poppy swore she saw stars when tasting the sweet liquid. Bea laughs as a whipped cream mustache develops on the blonde’s lips after hogging the shake for herself.

***

“I’m paying for our next date by the way.”

Bea peers over at Poppy who walked her to her front door, “oh so there’s gonna be another one?” She can’t help but smile at Poppy’s sudden shyness.

“Well I enjoyed tonight, a lot. Maybe more than a lot.”

“I did too.”

The silence that consumed them wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but it was enough to make them stare at each other. Bea’s mind started to fog as she thought about finally closing the distance between them. She wanted nothing more than to mask the silence with a kiss. Bea looks at Poppy, who seems to be lost in thought.

“What are you thinking?”

“What?”

“You’re usually deep in thought when your eyebrows scrunch together like that. Or maybe you’re just planning on jumping me as soon as I turn around.”

Poppy smiles softly. “Do you know the feeling when the thing you wanted the most is right in front of you, yet it still feels unreal and almost impossible.”

Bea takes a deep breath and nods, “I do.”

Okay Hughes you’re gonna kiss her in 3. You’re gonna make the move. Come on.

But of course Poppy had other plans.

“Mmh!”

The feeling of Poppy’s soft lips had caught Bea completely off guard. A hum of pleasure escaped her mouth as the heat started to increase between them. Bea grabbed hold of Poppy’s cheek and steadied the kiss, her eyes slowly started to shut as she sunk into the warm, smooth feeling. Bea smiles into the kiss as Poppy’s tongue begins exploring the depths of her mouth, and she bites back a moan when the blonde takes her bottom lip between her teeth, tugging it slightly, feeling the desire pooling in the pit of her stomach. Poppy places her lips back on Bea’s, passion igniting once more as Bea begins to dominate the kiss, her hands finding her way to the blonde’s waist, pulling her in even closer.

Poppy felt like she could kiss Bea forever, if it wasn’t for the need of oxygen. When they both finally pulled back, the blonde laughed with joy. “That felt so amazing.”

Bea wanted to blow a huge sigh of relief that Poppy initiated the kiss, because imagine fucking that up. She just held her close and basked in the moment. Her lips swelled with excitement as she still felt the ghost of Poppy’s tongue tracing it. Poppy always had something to say, but right now there was so much more she could do. And the first thing she would do is finally make Bea hers.

***

if you want to be tagged in any Poppy fics let me know.

#poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #mc x poppy #playchoices #queen b #choices stories you play

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klbwriting · 4 years ago

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Unexpected Allies - Chapter 5

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: future Kaz!femaleReader (although he def fucks up in this chpater)

Warnings: a lot of talk about death and war

Summary: Secrets are shared on the carriage ride out of town

Note: I edited this once I realized I left my placeholder name in the story >.< I always use a random name when I’m writing a series and then change to Y/N but it was midnight and I forgot.

Jesper told Kaz and Y/N to stay in the carriage and for once Kaz listened to his subordinate. Y/N needed to stay hidden and someone had to protect her. Not that she really needed protecting, not by him at least. If she had wanted to she could pick and chose which way she wanted to kill him. Hell, she could do it 3 different ways if she chose. But the look in her eyes when Kaz moved to get out of the carriage and join Jesper had given him pause, so he sat back down and stared at her.

"You can ask you know," she said finally, once she had calmed. Kaz felt the adrenaline drain from his body and he sat back in the seat, looking down at his cane between his legs. His eyes drifted to their knees, so close together but he could see while his was moving with the carriage hers was frozen. She was holding it still, thinking about him and what he needed again. Why? Why did she care so much about him and his issues? Others noticed how he avoided touch, noticed the gloves, the way he didn't reach out to help anyone no matter what, but they didn't protect him from it, in fact some of them used it against him. They died of course but they tried to use it. Inej had sometimes tried to protect him but not like this. Y/N had thrown her body into the way and held back a crowd of drunk gamblers trying to save themselves just to let him stand up again.

"You didn't let anyone touch me...not even yourself," he said, recalling her catching herself in the carriage and making sure again that she didn't touch him. He looked at their knees again and held his breath, moving his knee to touch hers gently. She looked at him, seeing his clenched jaw, his other hand in a fist by his side.

"Don't," she said flatly, making Kaz look at her. She had her eyes closed, head tilted back. He once again didn't know what she was thinking. "I know how hard prison must have been for you. I'm not sure where your issue with touch comes from but hell, I'm not going to let you pass out in a crowded room that's on fire. I will protect you Kaz." She finally looked at him and he saw the bare truth in her eyes. For the first time her eyes hid nothing, she meant exactly what she said.

"Why?" he asked, not sure what exactly made him so appealing to her. She let out a frustrated noise. He narrowed his eyes, not liking her getting angry at him.

"Kaz Brekker, you are needed in the resistance. I know you don't want to be there, you just want your crew and want to leave, but you are needed. Desperately. And even if you weren't needed I would still protect you. I spent months learning about you, watching you, and I, dammit, I feel something for you and even if you could never feel like that for me I'm damn sure not going to let you get hurt. Enough people I care about have been killed because I didn't do enough to protect them. I will never let it happen again," she said. For a moment Kaz stayed silent, letting her calm down. He knew of her watching him, knew of her feelings. He thought about how he couldn't feel that way for her, or anyone, when a small voice in his head came bubbling up and said one small word. Liar.

"The resistance doesn't need me. It needs heroes," he said. "I sure as hell am not a hero." He would ignore what else she had said, not sure how to address it right now. He needed time to digest it before he dove into everything she had revealed.

"Heroes are the last thing the resistance needs. Heroes lost the civil war, trying to be a hero lost me everything, we need a thief, someone who can sneak in, pick all the locks to the Darkling's room and slit any throat that tries to stop them. They need you," she said. They stared at each other again and Kaz was overcome for a moment with the urge to take her into his arms and hold her, but a moment after the thought occurred to him the familiar feeling of revulsion rose in his chest. He shook off the feeling and leaned his elbows to his knees.

"What happened to make me what the resistance needs? What in the hell happened to Alina Starkov that you blame yourself for?" he demanded, tired of the secrets she was keeping. She sat back, looking up at the ceiling of the carriage. He saw the tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she tried to fight them. Despite the feeling of revulsion lingering Kaz forced his knee to touch hers again. This time she let him, lost in her own past.

"You figured I was a double agent for Alina's followers. I was easily a favorite of Aleksander's, the Darkling's, because when I was younger I would follow him around like a puppy. I had a crush on him as a child and he humored me. By the time Alina came along I was seeing the cracks in his armor. I mean, he was called the Darkling, his betrayal shouldn't have been that surprising. So when Alina ran she asked me to stay behind, she attacked me, making sure it looked like I had chosen Aleksander over her. I instantly gained his trust that way. He kept me by his side and I would feed small bits of information with Alina. Not everything of course, I couldn't be too obvious. If Aleksander wasn't going to be at a battle I didn't report it. Or if Aleksander was going to be there but not Alina I let it go. I hated that, so many died because I had to pretend to be faithful to a madman, but it was the only way to make sure that Alina was safe."

Y/N took a deep breath, looking at Kaz and seeing the question in his eyes. She knew he thought the same as everyone else in the Little Palace. She couldn't possibly be second in command based on talent or skill. Large women weren't really smart, they couldn't possibly think of anything more than food. She had been underestimated because of her size her entire life and she normally didn't care, she used it as motivation to prove everyone wrong no matter what they thought she did. But she cared that Kaz knew the truth.

"Go ahead, ask me how I kept my position so secure," she said. She felt Kaz's knee stiffen and looked at them touching. This small action must be taking a lot out of him mentally and she appreciated it, but she didn't want him to feel she was taking advantage so she curled her legs under her body on the seat, making sure he had space. She saw him relax again but he didn't look pleased.

"I'm sure many think you kept your position by climbing into bed with him," he said. She barked a harsh laugh.

"I wish everyone thought of me in such a way, that I somehow could seduce my way to the top," she said. "Some may think that, but most think Aleksander uses me because my Inferni powers are so strong. I am the closest he could get to another Sun Summoner. But I still had to prove myself."

"You betrayed Alina?" he asked. She let one single tear fall then, wiping it quickly.

"She told me to, I had to betray her people. She let me know where Zoya would be, thinking that he would go easy on her since she was once his favorite. What Alina didn't know was that Nikolai would be there. The Darkling didn't hesitate, he cut through both of them and suddenly he took everything I told him as law. I paid for his trust with blood," she said. She now was just letting herself cry, it was pointless to try and stop it. Kaz probably thought she was weak but right now she didn't care. He wasn't going to stick around long after they got to the Permafrost anyway, she shouldn't care at all what he thought. "The worst though, was when he figured out that someone was leaking information. He suddenly didn't trust any of us now, so I had to figure out something. I couldn't get a note out to Alina but I knew she and Darkling were going to meet near Keramzin and I also knew she wouldn't want me to blow my cover so I kept quiet. He took all of us with him, it was almost poetic that they were going to face off near where she grew up. During the fighting she was captured by the Darkling. I was going to intervene, she saw me starting to move and she held up her hands and shook her head. There was already a small force gathering in the north and she didn't want to risk them being lost with her so I stood down and he killed her. Then he turned to me and smiled." She shuttered and finally looked at Kaz.

"Its not your fault," he said after a minute of silence. She smiled sadly at him. "She knew what was happening, she wanted you to live. She took care of you, like a sister." He looked at the floor of the carriage, a fair away look on his face.

"When was your brother killed?" she asked. He didn't have to answer but she wanted him to know that she would listen to him like he had listened to her. He just shook his head.

"Well that's two of your secrets I have discovered tonight," he said. Y/N sat up straighter, realizing her mistake. He was trying to worm his way in for her secrets, something to hold as leverage. He did in fact know her two deepest secrets now. Saints she was an idiot letting her mouth run ragged for him.

"I suppose you want to hear about the powers too?" she asked, folding her arms and moving closer to the door of the carriage. Kaz just nodded. Well he already knew about them so she might as well say it. "I don't know why I can do more than a normal Grisha, its just how I was born. There now you have all my secrets to use at your will. Enjoy." She turned to look out at the road seeing the sun slowly rising in the distance.

She knew Kaz Brekker's reputation, knew what kind of man he was, had even promised herself that she would keep him at a distance and in a few short hours he had picked his way back into her heart. The worst part was he barely had to do anything at all, a forced smile and a little dance, just so that he would have something to hold over her. He knew her greatest asset and her greatest failure and the worst part was that she still wanted to tell him more. She was getting angrier at herself by the second. She was about to take that anger out on her carriage companion but there was a loud crack and the wheel went flying, sending the carriage into a ditch. The last thing Y/N saw was Kaz bracing himself for impact before she hit her head and was unconscious.

#six of crows #kaz #kaz brekker #kazbrekker #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x reader #unexpected allies series

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prouvaireafterdark · 4 years ago

Text

Petrichor

aka the long-awaited Sad Buffy Fic™️ 🐶 This got smuttier than I’d planned, but what else is new lmao

Also: Canon compliance? Don’t know her (I also don’t fully understand the schematics of Alex’s house, but let’s just pretend I do).

Also on AO3!

(Oh, and Happy Season Four Renewal!)

***

“Your dog’s a little weird, dude.”

Alex sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

Outside, his beagle Buffy has been frantically running around and barking at the air for the last thirty minutes. There’s not a squirrel or bird in sight.

“Is she always like this?” Kyle asks, turning away from the window that faces Alex’s backyard to look at him.

“No, usually she’s pretty mellow,” Alex says, passing him a cup of coffee. He takes a sip from his own mug to stall before he finally admits, “She only gets like this when it rains.”

“Huh,” Kyle says, considering it for a moment before he adds, “Layla always hated the rain. Remember when we used to have to bribe her with peanut butter to get her to go on walks if it was too cloudy?”

Alex remembers. Kyle’s childhood German shepherd was usually fearless, but put her near any liquid that wasn’t in her water dish and she’d run with her tail between her legs.

If only it were that simple with Buffy.

“It’s not the rain that’s making her do that,” he explains, looking down into his mug. “Well, I guess it is, but not—not like you’re probably thinking.”

Kyle processes that a moment before he speaks up.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s up, or am I gonna have to guess?”

Alex sighs again. “She misses Michael.”

Kyle looks skeptical. “How do you know?”

Because I miss him too, is on the tip of his tongue, but Alex hesitates. As melancholic as the rain makes him, he’s not interested in spilling his guts over it.

“Because Michael smells like rain,” he says instead. “It’s an alien biology thing, apparently, but you probably would know more about that than I do.”

“Oh my god,” Kyle says, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Are you saying she’s looking for him out there right now?”

Alex nods. “She’ll give up in about an hour, but, yeah. She smells rain and she thinks he’s home.”

“That is so fucking sad.”

“I know,” he sighs, and turns around to go find a seat on the couch.

“Like, Sarah McLachlan in those ASPCA commercials level sad,” Kyle continues as he follows him, taking a seat on the other side of the couch. “Wait, did you guys adopt her together? Like, as a couple?”

Alex considers how to answer that. “No. We were together—I guess as much as we ever were—when I got her, and he went with me to pick her up from the shelter, but she’s not—he didn’t adopt her with me. He was just around a lot when I first brought her home.”

“Mmm, I see,” Kyle says, understanding. “Maybe you should call him.”

“What?” Alex asks.

“You know, invite him over,” Kyle says, like it’s obvious. “Ask if he wants to come play with her a little.”

“What?” Alex asks again, looking at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Look, I may not be a veterinarian, but you don’t need years of specialized training to see that your dog misses her dad,” Kyle says.

Alex raises an incredulous eyebrow.

“Well, her other dad,” he amends a moment later.

Alex shakes his head. “He’s not—That’s ridiculous.“

“Is it? He was here when she was a puppy, man,” Kyle counters. “They’ve clearly got a strong bond if she’s missing him that bad.”

Alex knows he’s right, but… he can’t just call Michael and ask if he wants to come play with Buffy.

Sure, he and Michael have been on good terms lately—great, even, now that they have a common goal and have learned how to actually communicate without having two totally different conversations.

But, months ago now, Michael asked him to stay away. He told Alex he didn’t want to be with him anymore, that it hurt too much, and Alex understands that, really he does, and he’s been trying so hard to maintain the boundaries Michael wants while still being there for him any way he can.

And if he invites Michael over right now, it won’t be because it’s something Michael needs from him. It’ll be because it’s a miserable, rainy day, and Alex and his adorably stupid dog miss him.

And if Alex is being honest with himself… he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he calls Michael and Michael says no. Not right now, not when Michael’s absence in his life, in his home, feels like an ugly, gaping wound.

“Just think about it,” Kyle says. “You never know, maybe he’s been missing her too.”

When Kyle leaves an hour later, Alex registers the quiet and realizes Buffy’s stopped barking. Finally, he thinks, until he goes to the back door and sees her slumped up against the glass, looking absolutely fucking miserable.

“Fuck,” he says, with feeling.

He opens the door and scoops her up off the ground. She’s a little wet from the start of the drizzle, but once she rests her head on his shoulder and huffs despondently he can’t bear to put her back down. He takes her over to the couch and draws the blanket around the both of them, hoping he can cheer her up with enough kisses and pats.

With the smell of Michael so thick in the air, he’s not surprised it doesn’t work.

He stays there with her until hunger beckons him toward the kitchen to make both of them dinner. When Buffy won’t touch her kibble, Alex scoops some leftover grilled chicken, rice, and veggies from his own plate into her bowl. It works, thankfully, but when she’s done she curls up on the floor with a sigh and Alex’s heart breaks just looking at her.

He ends up lying down on the floor next to her, his head cushioned by a pillow he dragged off the couch. The rain really starts coming down outside then, and Buffy starts to whine.

“I know, baby girl,” he says, curling more tightly around her. “I miss him too.”

He’s not sure how long he stays there before his phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out to see a text from Kyle.

Did you call him yet?

Alex sighs and rolls onto his back, his hip aching with the movement. He stares at the ceiling for a long moment, weighing the pros and cons, until Buffy huffs a huge, sad sigh again and he just can’t fucking stand it anymore.

“Fuck it,” he says to himself and takes out his phone again.

He doesn’t end up calling Michael. Instead, he texts him a picture of Buffy without a caption.

His phone vibrates a minute later.

Aww, why’s my girl look so sad?

Alex isn’t proud of the noise he makes when he reads that. He types his response, then deletes it, and then types it again. Nerves coil tight in his stomach when he sends it.

Kyle seems to think she misses her other dad. Wanna come over?

Alex drops his phone on his chest so he doesn’t stare at it. It’s another long, long minute before his phone buzzes again. He takes a breath before he reaches for it.

Michael’s reply is just three words.

On my way

Buffy barely lifts her head up off the floor when there’s a knock at the front door. Alex walks down the hall to answer it, massaging the tight muscles in his right thigh as he goes. He straightens up when he reaches the door and opens it to find Michael standing there, looking gorgeous as ever in a dark green flannel that’s unbuttoned practically to the middle of his chest, his curls a little damp from the rain.

“Hey,” Alex smiles, stepping aside to let Michael in. “Thanks for coming.”

“How could I say no to that cute face?” he replies, but the way Michael looks him over as he says it makes Alex wonder whether he’s actually talking about Buffy.

He doesn’t have long to ponder that particular nugget of information, though, because once Michael’s voice carries into the house, Alex hears the frantic sound of Buffy’s nails scraping his hardwood floors. Michael gasps a little theatrically when Buffy rounds the corner, barking as she barrels toward him at full speed down the hallway.

“Hi, baby girl,” he coos, crouching down to her level.

When she’s finally in front of him, she spins in excited circles at his feet, barking and panting while Michael pets her everywhere he can reach. It takes her a minute, but eventually she stops moving long enough to prop herself up on Michael’s knee so she can alternate between licking his chin and staring up at him with abject love and affection, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.

It’s the happiest Alex has seen her in—God, he can’t even remember. He’d feel a little put out about it if he didn’t understand it on a deeply visceral level. When she looks up at Alex as if to say Look! He’s back! Alex can’t help but bend down to pet her too.

For his part, Michael seems similarly affected. “Oh, I know, baby, I missed you too, I missed you too,” he’s saying with a wide smile. His eyes are wet when he looks at Alex and Alex’s throat grows tight with feeling.

Did Michael need this as much as Buffy did? Alex wonders when Michael breaks eye contact.

“Oh god, uh, Alex?” Michael says suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. “I think she had an accident.”

Alex spots the small puddle beneath her when Michael gets his hands under her arms and lifts her up onto her back legs.

“Shit, I’m sorry, hang on,” Alex says, making for the kitchen. “Make sure she doesn’t step in it!” he calls back on the way. He grabs the paper towels and some cleaner from the cabinet under the sink and heads back into the living room. “Sorry, she’s just excited,” he explains when he gets there.

“So I gathered,” Michael says, but there’s no hint of annoyance in his voice or on his face.

Alex cleans the mess quickly, and by the time he’s thrown out the used paper towels and washed his hands thoroughly Michael’s found himself on the couch in Alex’s living room. He’s lying back against the couch with Buffy on his chest, scratching right behind her hears as he talks to her.

Seeing them like that reminds him of the first week they brought her home. He has a photo of the two of them sleeping on the couch together, her tiny head stuffed under his chin, and Alex’s heart aches remembering it. He wishes he’d been strong enough to tell Michael what he wanted. Maybe if he had, Michael wouldn’t be rebounding from his short-lived relationship with Maria and Alex and Buffy wouldn’t both be missing him so fucking bad all the time.

“Alex?”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, realizing he’s been standing there in silence for a few minutes.

“You okay?” Michael asks as he gives him an assessing look, his hand paused on Buffy’s back.

Alex realizes this is the first time in a long time that anyone’s asked him that.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lies, on instinct more than anything else. “You want something to drink?”

“I’d love a beer,” he says, and Alex welcomes the opportunity for a tactical retreat.

“You got it.”

He collects himself in the kitchen while he grabs two beers from the fridge, uncapping them before he walks back into the living room. Alex hands Michael his beer on his way to sit down on the other end of the couch.

“Thanks,” Michael smiles as he takes the bottle Alex offers. Buffy sniffs the bottle when he goes to take a sip, but Michael holds it out of reach and explains, “No, this isn’t for puppies.”

Alex can’t help but laugh as he props his left elbow on the back of the couch to watch them.

Michael takes a long pull from the bottle and then sets it down on the end table next to him so he can keep petting Buffy uninterrupted.

“She really did miss me, huh?” Michael wonders aloud, as if the very idea that someone would is novel or unbelievable.

“Of course she did,” Alex says, placing his beer on the coffee table and scooting closer so he can pet her with his right hand. He doesn’t quite realize until it’s too late that he’s put himself right next to Michael, his right bicep almost brushing Alex’s chest. He studiously keeps his eyes on Buffy as he adds, “She loves you.”

Out of the corner of Alex’s eye, he sees Michael’s mouth turn up in a soft smile. “I love her too.”

They chat idly while Buffy soaks up Michael’s attention—Michael tells Alex all about a new experiment he’s working on with Liz that has exciting implications for something Alex would need at least two astrophysics degrees to understand, and Alex shares that he’s been keeping himself busy with music again, much to Michael’s delight.

After years of going back and forth between fucking Michael and fighting with him, it’s nice to just talk to him for a change.

The conversation makes its way back around to Buffy when she shuffles her way up Michael’s chest to fit her nose right under his chin, her eyes drifting shut for a nap. When Michael laughs and drops a kiss on the soft patch of fur between her eyes, Alex’s finds the strength to take Kyle’s advice.

“Look, I, um,” Alex starts, shifting on the couch, “I was actually thinking maybe you could… come around sometimes. To play with her.”

“What, like visitation?” Michael asks with an eyebrow raised. “I get joint custody on the weekends?”

Alex can’t help but laugh. “You make it sound like she’s our kid.”

And, wow, he should not have vocalized that thought because as soon as the words are out of his mouth Alex is hit by a whole fucking wave of feelings he does not have the time nor the ability to unpack right now, and by the look of it so is Michael.

“Hey, you’re the one who called me her dad,” Michael points out, a second too late for it to sound completely casual.

“Technically, Kyle did,” Alex flushes, but gestures to where Buffy is snuggled into his neck, finally at peace. “But look at her. She misses you.”

“Just her, huh?” Michael asks, so quietly that for a second Alex thinks he’s imagined it, but then Michael’s hand slides down from the back of Buffy’s neck to cover Alex’s own where it’s resting on her back.

Alex’s mouth goes dry. He chances a look at Michael, and what a fucking mistake that is because Michael’s honey-gold eyes are staring right at him and Alex forgets how to breathe.

“You miss me, too, Alex?” Michael asks, something that sounds a little like hope in his voice.

Alex looks at Michael for a moment, his head and heart at war the way they always are when it comes to him.

“Yeah,” Alex finally admits, a bone-deep exhaustion hitting him as the confession crosses his lips. “I do.”

Michael nods, processing that. “I miss you too,” he says after a long minute, his thumb stroking over the back of Alex’s hand, and Alex fights against the urge to pull his hand away because this doesn’t just feel important, it feels fucking monumental, but how can he even think with Michael touching him like that?

“Stop,” Alex begs softly. “Please. If you don’t mean it, or if you’re not ready, I need you to stop.”

When Michael doesn’t say anything, Alex closes his eyes, the inside of his bottom lip caught tight between his teeth to keep from losing it. He’s felt like he’s on the edge of something all day and Michael sitting here, teasing him with the offer of more, it’s just too much.

Alex feels Michael let go of his hand, feels Buffy disappear from under his palm, hears his leather couch squeak under Michael’s shifting weight and fuck how has he fucked this up already, he’s barely even said anything—

Alex flinches when he feels the warmth of Michael’s palm against his cheek.

“Alex,” he whispers. “Open your eyes.”

Alex does, swallowing hard as he meets Michael’s gaze, his eyes shining with tears.

“I mean it,” Michael tells him, his expression sincere.

“You do?” he asks hesitantly.

“Of course, I do,” Michael says, leaning in to gently knock their foreheads together. Alex’s heart aches at Michael’s closeness, the familiarity with which Michael touches him. He never thought he’d get to experience it again. “God, Alex, I miss you so much I can’t breathe sometimes, I—”

Alex closes the distance between them without a second thought, finding Michael’s lips as warm and soft as he remembers. He pulls back a second later to apologize for cutting Michael off, for moving too quickly when he’s not even sure what exactly Michael wants, but Michael just makes a hurt noise low in his throat and follows after him for another taste, and then another.

Michael presses further and further into his space until Alex’s back hits the couch cushions with a soft thud, the top of his head brushing the armrest. Alex pulls away from Michael’s mouth with a slick sound, and as he gasps for air, Michael attaches his lips to a tender spot beneath his jaw and sucks, igniting a fire low in Alex’s belly that threatens to consume him.

He can feel himself getting hard as Michael worms his way even closer. He guides Alex’s left leg to rest against the back of the couch as he settles his solid weight between his thighs, continuing to pepper his throat with wet, sucking kisses all the while. It’s not until Michael dips his tongue into the hollow of his throat that Alex’s hips lurch upward of their own accord, seeking the kind of relief only Michael can give him.

“Michael,” Alex moans, eyes slipping closed as his restless fingers weave into Michael’s curls.

Michael hums his response and slips his hands under Alex’s ass, encouraging him to grind their cocks together through the fabric of their jeans. It’s rough and hot, too much and not nearly enough, and along with his spiking pleasure comes the daunting thought that they’re moving too fast—that they’re about to make the same mistake they always do.

“Fuck, wait, we should—“ he begins to protest, but Michael interrupts him, groaning unhappily against the neckline of his t-shirt before he lifts his head to look at him. Alex’s eyes skip down to Michael’s mouth automatically, that tempting shade of pink making it very hard to remember what he was thinking two seconds ago.

“Don’t tell me what we should do,” Michael begs him, drawing Alex’s attention back up his face, to where his eyes are wide and more than a little desperate. “What do you want?”

Alex stares at him as that question hits his ears, a “What I want doesn’t matter” already on the tip of his tongue before his brain even catches up with him. He’s spent so long carrying those words in his head and in his heart that he barely notices their weight anymore—not until it’s Michael staring back at him and offering him everything he’s ever dreamed of.

This time’s no different, and Michael must see it on his face because the look in his eyes softens along with his voice as he asks again, “What do you want, Alex?” He reaches up to cup the side of his face, his thumb brushing featherlight across his cheekbone. “I’ll give you anything.”

Alex swallows roughly, his eyes burning with tears he can barely hold back.

“You,” he answers, perhaps more honest than he’s ever been. His voice trembles as he adds, “I just want you.”

A brittle smile breaks out on Michael’s face, his eyes shining in the lamplight before they flutter closed as he leans back down to kiss him again, slow and deep and wet.

Heat starts to simmer between between them once again, the soft press of Michael’s mouth and the tease of his tongue driving all other thought from Alex’s mind. Michael works his hands slowly under his t-shirt and Alex hardly notices it happening until Michael rolls his thumb over one of his nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin.

Alex groans and shivers at the sensation, using his prosthetic—planted firmly on the floor now—for any traction he can get to press his hips up into Michael’s lap.

Michael smirks against his mouth, and Alex can’t help but catch Michael’s full bottom lip between his teeth in retaliation, making Michael whimper so sweetly that Alex lets him go and soothes the bite with his tongue almost immediately.

Michael gives him one last kiss before he pushes Alex’s shirt as far up his chest as it can go and dips down to latch his mouth over his right nipple. Alex sighs and drops his head back against the cushions, his cock thickening even further as Michael teases it into a hard bud with his lips and teeth and tongue, playing with the other between his thumb and forefinger. He tugs it between his teeth and Alex gasps, arching his back and pressing his chest more firmly against Michael’s mouth.

After a few more minutes of teasing, Michael starts a slow slide downward, trailing wet kisses along the way as he charts a path down Alex’s belly toward the wiry hair peeking out above his belt.

“You want my mouth, ‘Lex?” Michael asks before dragging his tongue along the sensitive skin just above the waistband of his jeans.

Alex’s stomach clenches as he pictures it—Michael going down on him with singleminded focus, looking up at him beneath his lashes as he sucks on the head before taking him deeper, sinking down until the tip of his cock is snug inside his throat. He’s always looked so good with his head between Alex’s thighs.

His cock throbs painfully at the thought, desperate for Michael’s attention, but there’s something else on Alex’s mind right now, something he wants with a ferocity he can’t quite put into words.

“I do,” he says, softly tugging Michael’s hair to get his attention. “Up here.”

Michael stares at him a moment before he gets it, confusion fading as a fond smile takes its place. He slithers up Alex’s body until he can hover over his face.

“You want me to kiss you when I make you come?” Michael asks him, rubbing his nose along Alex’s cheek.

Alex nods, not trusting his voice.

Michael presses a soft, almost reverent kiss to his cheek.

“I can work with that,” he says, moving closer to his mouth. He kisses him again, not more than a peck, before he sits up and leans back, resting his weight on his knees between Alex’s spread thighs.

Alex mourns the loss of warmth, but he soon forgets it as Michael strips his flannel off his back and tosses it haphazardly behind him, revealing his toned chest and stomach. His mouth runs dry just looking at him and he quickly follows suit, yanking his bunched up t-shirt over his head and letting it fall gracelessly to the floor.

He starts on his jeans next, but Michael’s hands bat his out of the way, one cupping his cock through the denim while the other undoes his belt with practiced efficiency. He teases his crown with the tip of his finger for a torturous moment before Alex groans and he gets with the program, tugging Alex’s jeans and underwear down his hips just far enough to free his cock.

The relief Alex feels at no longer being so constricted is instantaneous, and Michael takes full advantage of the situation, curling his fingers around his shaft and thumbing through the moisture glistening at the tip. He spreads it down the length of him as he starts to jerk him off, not firm or quick enough to make him come, but enough to make the pleasure that’s been building inside him since they started this flare hot and insistent.

Alex catches his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from crying out as his hips twitch upward, fucking his cock into Michael’s grip. When he tears his gaze away from where Michael is playing with him, he sees honey-brown eyes staring back at him.

“What?” Alex asks, flushing under Michael’s attention.

“Nothing,” Michael smiles, shaking his head. “You’re just really fucking pretty like this.”

Alex scoffs at that, but it only makes Michael more insistent.

“You are,” he says defiantly, squeezing his cock a little on the upstroke. Alex tries to bite back the moan building in his throat, but it’s easier said than done. “I mean, you’re always pretty, but when I’ve got my hands on you? Shit, ‘Lex. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Oh yeah?” he shoots back, eyes drifting south toward the dark spot slowly bleeding through the front of Michael’s jeans. “Why don’t you show me?”

Michael rises to the challenge, letting go of Alex’s cock and getting to work on his ridiculous belt buckle. He shoves his own jeans and underwear down his thighs as quick as he can and seconds later Alex feels Michael caging him in as he covers his body with his own, pressing up into his space to kiss him just like Alex had asked him to.

He feels Michael’s cock poking into his belly, smearing precome against his skin, and Alex hooks his leg around him to bring him closer until their cocks are trapped between them. Alex breaks the kiss for just a moment, just long enough to lick his palm before he slips his hand down his belly to wrap his fingers around them both, making a tight, wet channel for them to fuck into. The sticky mix of spit and precome isn’t nearly as smooth as lube, but it’ll do.

“Uh, fuck,” Michael groans against his mouth as he begins to rock his hips forward in a slow, steady grind. “Been a while since we did it like this, huh?”

Alex hums in agreement as memories of the two of them in the back of Michael’s truck, rutting together on a makeshift mattress that smelled faintly of weed, flash through his mind. A lot’s changed since then, but the drag of Michael’s cock against his still feels just as good.

Michael starts to thrust in earnest then, and Alex’s burns with every slide of his cock against him, with every eager kiss Michael presses to his mouth. His heart is pounding against his ribs and blood is rushing in his ears, nearly but not quite loud enough to drown out all the perfect little sounds Michael keeps making in the back of his throat.

It’s not long before it all overwhelms him and Alex shudders as he comes, his balls drawing up tight and cock pulsing hot and wet between them. He gasps into Michael’s mouth, too far gone to remember how to kiss properly as his pleasure washes over him, inexorable as the ebb and flow of the rising tide and strong enough to pull him under.

Michael follows him a moment later, moaning sharply against Alex’s cheek as he spills over his fist, adding to the mess Alex made. Alex jerks him through it, milking him for all he’s worth until he hides his face in Alex’s neck and starts to whimper, overstimulated. Alex lets him go then and focuses on catching his breath as the last of his pleasure fades.

Michael’s the first to move, bumping his way back toward Alex’s mouth to kiss him again, lips raw and slick where they brush against his mouth. Alex cradles his cheek with his clean palm to hold him there as they trade kisses, neither one of them quite ready to break the spell that drew them back together. Alex loses himself to it, so much so that he barely registers the quiet patter of claws against wood drawing nearer until Buffy hops her front paws up onto the edge of the couch and starts to lick his cheek.

Alex makes a rather undignified noise at the sensation of Buffy’s tongue on his face—not to mention the smell of her breath—and Michael laughs against his mouth before he pulls away to look at her.

“I’m sorry, princess, were we ignoring you?” Michael coos, and Alex isn’t proud of the way Michael’s low, rasping voice makes his spent cock twitch.

Michael reaches over the edge of the couch, feeling around on the floor for a moment, until Alex hears a sharp squeak. Buffy barks happily, lowering down on her front legs and wagging her tail, and Michael throws one of her brightly colored toys as far as he can across the room.

“That ought to buy us 30 seconds,” Michael says, leaning up between Alex’s spread thighs. Michael’s bare chest shines as he reaches over for the box of tissues sitting on the coffee table, sticky with sweat and come. He grabs a few for himself and then offers Alex the box.

Once they’re as clean as they’re going to get, Michael zips up his jeans and gathers their dirty tissues to throw them out. Alex likewise tucks himself away and sits up on the couch, nervously awaiting Michael’s return.

He’s just reaching for his shirt on the floor when Michael comes back, his head cocked to the side as he looks at him curiously.

“What are you doing?” Michael asks, the corner of his lips pulling up into a lopsided smile. Alex gives him a questioning look, but Michael only steps closer and plants his hand on Alex’s chest, pushing him gently to lie back down. “I’m not done with you yet,” Michael explains.

Alex raises an eyebrow, but Michael just settles on his chest once more, tucked between Alex’s body and the back of the couch. He throws one leg over Alex’s thigh and his arm wraps around his waist, his chaotic mop of curls tickling Alex’s nose as he shifts to get comfortable.

The silence between them as they lie there is nice, simple in a way things rarely are for them.

That is, until Alex’s mind starts running away from him, age-old doubts and fears plaguing his thoughts. He loves Michael more than anything, but was falling back into bed so soon a mistake? Can they really make it work this time?

“Stop thinking,” Michael mumbles against his collarbone.

“Sorry,” Alex apologizes with a sigh, dropping a kiss into his curls. “I just…”

“Hm?” Michael prompts him when he doesn’t continue.

Alex takes a breath before he says, “I just can’t believe we just had sex on my couch without actually talking things out first.”

“Really?” Michael asks, leaning up to look at him incredulously. “You can’t believe that?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Alex concedes with a laugh. “I just meant—I don’t know. I thought the next time we did this, we would be a real couple.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Michael’s face falls a little, his eyes sliding down to stare intently at Alex’s collarbone. He doesn’t pull away from him though, not yet, which Alex hopes means he hasn’t completely fucked this up.

“Who says we’re not?” Michael asks slowly, chancing a look back up at Alex’s face. Alex isn’t sure what he finds there, but it reassures him enough to joke, “I mean, we have shared custody of a fur baby remember? That sounds pretty serious to me.”

Alex laughs at that, his eyes warm and fond and maybe just a little misty.

“I love you,” he says, the words spilling out of him before he can contain them.

His heart seizes in his chest a little at the unexpected admission, but it’s worth it to see the joy on Michael’s face as he presses in close and whispers those words right back at him.

The next time it rains in Roswell, Alex wakes slowly to the sounds of soft laughter, rustling sheets, and raindrops tapping away at the roof overhead. He drifts in that space between sleeping and waking for a few moments, warm and content.

Buffy barks suddenly, pulling Alex firmly into the land of the living. He cracks open an eyelid to see Michael sitting up in bed and a very happy beagle demanding belly scratches on the comforter in front of him.

“Shh, daddy’s sleeping,” Michael scolds gently, and Alex’s heart feels so fucking full.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up, the movement drawing Michael’s attention.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Michael says, casting a rueful smile over his shoulder.

Alex smiles and shakes his head, shifting closer so he can rest his head on Michael’s shoulder and pull him back against his chest. He rests his right palm over Michael’s heart, his fingertips dragging lightly through his chest hair.

“Never apologize for being here when I wake up,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. Michael ducks his head and smiles, his hand coming to rest over Alex’s on his chest.

Alex closes his eyes and breathes deep, the heady scent of petrichor filling his lungs.

Maybe rainy days aren’t so bad.

#malex #malex fic #rnm fic #michael guerin #alex manes #my fic #been working on and off (mostly off) on this bad boy since before season 2 lmao #I hope you like it!

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catxsnow · 5 years ago

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PUPPY LOVE D.W.

Summary: Dogs always know best, you learned that pretty quickly. Little bit Older!Damian x reader

Warning: Nothing,

A/N: I love Damian but also I feel like I can’t write him to save my life so I’m not really sure what tf this is but oh well.

Also I expected maybe two or three likes on my tim imagine and the fact I got 20x as many notes as I expected makes my heart 🥺🥺🥺 thank you guys💕

picture not mine

Word count: 3.1k

You met Damian Wayne at the dog park in Gotham.

As first encounters go, that one had to have been at the bottom of your list of being enjoyable. His dog, which you had later discovers his name was Titus, was huge. He was a Great Dane and nothing less of a giant. You were surprised that Damian, as short as he was, was able to hold onto the leash when Titus tugged on it.

It wasn't the fact that Titus was huge, it was that your dog was little. If there was one thing that everyone knew about little dogs, it was that they had to find the biggest dog in the area and pick a fight. That was exactly what your little Terrier did.

You had let him off his leash so that you could play fetch with him but he quickly lost interest in the ball and more interest in the black Dane. Your dog barked and nipped at the legs of his dog until you ran over to snatch him up. What made the matter worse, was that it had to be the son of Bruce Wayne.

Damian pulled his own dog away from yours in hopes to protect him. The two of them were acting very calm about the situation while you were freaking out and struggling to hold you pup. He continued to bark until you finally held him mouth shut and chastised him to be quiet, thankfully he listened.

"I am so sorry," You finally looked over at Damian. He patted the top of his dog's head, who had sat right at his side. The Great Dane looked much more well behaved than your own dog. "Is your dog alright? Terry doesn't usually do this I have no idea where it came from, really."

Damian did a look over of his dog and ordered him to jump and twist. The movement proved that he was perfectly fine. You sighed with relief. "You named your terrier, Terry?" It was the first time that he had spoke to you since the encounter. A slight blush rose to your cheeks as you realized that he was mocking you.

"Yes," you mustered up all the confidence you could get. He didn't say anything but made a small noise that you barely picked up on. You took that as your cue to leave. "I'm sorry about him," you apologized once more and decided that it was time to leave the dog park before another mishap occurred.

You had heard about Damian before, everyone in Gotham had. The son of Bruce Wayne that he didn’t know about until after a decade. You knew that you were the same age as him and you also knew by his pictures in the paper that he was very attractive. Seeing him in person proved that the pictures didn’t do justice.

Damian watched you walk away with a smile threatening to escape his lips. Terry the Terrier, what a joke. Yet, he thought the name was cute, but he also thought that Terry’s owner, was cuter.

The moment that you and Terry were in your car, you slumped your head back on the head rest. That was an awful first meeting, especially with someone like him. You looked over at your dog, who was looking up at you with his tongue hanging out and you could swear he was smiling.

"He was cute, wasn't he?" You spoke to Terry. To your surprise, he barked back at you. "As glad as I am that you gave me an excuse to talk to him, you ruined it by attacking his dog so why should I care?"

The next time you saw Damian, you were walking through the park with Terry. It was a hot sunny day in Gotham, which didn't happen very often. Jean shorts showed off your legs and sunglasses rested on your nose. It was rare to see days like those and you planned to make the most of the outdoors.

You were in your own world when you heard your dog barking. Terry rarely barked for no reason so there had to have been something that set him off. Unfortunately, as you looked around, you saw a familiar Great Dane. Before Terry could try and pull the leash over to Damian and his dog, you snatched him up under your arm.

There was no way that you were willing to risk embarrassing yourself twice in front of the youngest Wayne. So, trying to avoid another encounter, you kept your head straight and walked along the path. Besides, you doubted that he would even recognize you after your brief meeting all those weeks ago.

That didn't mean that his dog didn't know yours or Terry's scent. Titus let out a loud bark that caught your attention and nearly made you jump. You had just passed by where Damian was sitting on the bench and turned back to see that he was already looking at you. Terry managed to wiggle out of your arms and onto the ground.

"Terry," You scolded.

"No, it's okay," Damian approached you. "Titus was the one to bark, it is not yours, or your dogs, fault." This time, the dogs only sniffed each other rather than attacking. A small break from the aggression that Terry was showing before.

"I don't know why he's so interested in - Titus," you hesitated to repeat the name of his dog, unsure if you heard him correctly. Damian picked up on your pause and nodded to confirm that you were correct. "We go for walks every day and he never gets worked up over seeing another dog."

To be honest, you were glad that Titus had noticed you. You didn’t want to have Terry cause another scene with them or go up to him out of the blue, yet you still wanted to talk to Damian. You were intrigued by him, the son of the richest man in the city and you kept finding him in the same places that you liked to be.

"TT, Titus never barks," Damian agreed with your guys' dogs behavior. It was unusual. He looked down at your dog, and slowly dragged his gaze up your legs until he finally met your eyes. A faint blush covered his cheeks but in the bright sunlight, you didn’t notice. "I never learned your name last time."

"(Y/N)," You told him, sticking your hand out for him to shake. He paused for a moment before doing so and introducing himself. Of course, you already knew this but didn't say anything. "It's nice to meet you Damian. Sorry to disturb your afternoon, again."

"Nonsense," he told you. To be honest, he was quite glad that Titus grabbed you attention once more. He was curious to learn who you were after your first meeting with him. It was rare for someone to talk to him like a normal human, and as much as you were nervous around him, you tried to be normal.

"Um, I was just headed to get some iced coffee if you wanted to join me," You hesitantly asked. "Not that you have to or anything, but Terry looks like he has a crush on you and I wouldn't want to break his little heart." It was true, your dog had moved on from Titus and to the blood son himself.

However, you didn’t want to tell him that you too, wanted to spend a couple more minutes with him, at least. It wasn’t just your dog that was beginning to crush on him, you were pretty sure that you were too. It was strange, you barely even knew him and yet you couldn’t help but want to spend a few fleeing moments with him.

Terry had started my sniffing around Damian's ankles, to walking between his legs and getting the leash all wrapped around him. Once he had finally found the perfect spot, he started up at Damian with the same kind of look that he gave you when you were holding a treat.

Damian got out of the maze of rope and knelt down to scratch Terry's belly, who had licked his hand the moment it came near. You swore you saw him smile at the interaction.

While Terry was getting attention from Damian, Titus decided that he wanted you to scratch by his ears. He nudged your hand with his nose and you quickly took the hint.

"It is a beautiful day out to go get iced coffee," Damian agreed. "And you're right, I wouldn't want to break Terry's heart either.

You had gotten Damian's number that day. He told you that if you ever wanted to see Titus or have a puppy play date then you should give him a call. Of course, you were surprised to see the son of Bruce Wayne give away his cell phone number so easily to someone that he barely knew.

After getting your drinks, the two of you sat out in the sun and chatter about your dogs, school, and the tiniest bit about family. All you knew was that he had a lot of brothers that often got on his nerves and of course who his father was.

By the time that Terry was wining at you to go home, you both decided that it was time to depart. Damian patted Terry once more and bid goodbye. Titus licked your hand before leaving as well. You walked in opposite direction but you couldn't help but feel a little excited for whenever your next meeting would be.

The contact sat in your phone, untouched and not thought about again for weeks. After the first few days of debating whether or not to text him, you had gotten busy with school work and his number became the least of your worries. It wasn't until you saw Bruce on the TV did you remember that you had his number.

You texted him on Saturday morning asking if he wanted to meet up at the same dog park that you both met. He texted back rather fast agreeing to the plans and that he would see you that afternoon.

Which was why you had gone through seven outfits before deciding on the perfect casual and cute look. This wasn't a date, not even close to one, but this was also Damian Wayne, the same guy that wore expensive cashmere as a causal look. You wanted to look a little bit nice if you were going to be seen with him.

Ten minutes before he was supposed to arrive, you sat in your car talking to Terry. It was a habit that you gained from spending a little too much time by yourself. Then again, was there better company than your dog?

"This isn't a date, Terry. This is two friends meeting up because we both have dogs," you looked over at him. "Damian comes from a completely different world than us anyways, it's never going to happen, as much as you and I would like it to."

Once again, Terry barked at you in response. With a sigh, you left your car and walked over to the entrance of the park. Damian wasn't there yet but your dog was a little to excited to just sit and wait. You settled with letting him off leash and throwing his ball for him to fetch.

Terry came racing past you at such high speeds you didn't think he was going to be able to stop. And he hadn't, he went running past your spot and right towards Damian. You rolled your eyes at your dog. By his attitude, you were starting to think Terry liked Damian more than you.

"Hello, (Y/N)," Damian joined you. It didn't take long for your dogs to go play together and the two of you stood side by side watching them. You didn't quite trust Terry enough to not keep an eye on him.

He held a small frame in his hand and you wondered what it could be. Damian noticed your eyes it and handed it over to you. "I saw this the other day and thought of Terry."

It was a small framed picture of a hand drawn terrier and painted with water colours. It was beautiful. Damian would never admit to you that he didn’t buy it, but painted it himself. "It's yours."

He pushed the gift a little closer to you until you grabbed it. "Thank you, Damian. It's beautiful."

"You're welcome," he nodded. If there was one thing you quickly noticed about him, it was that he was a man of few words. He choose his words precisely and accurately. "How has school been?"

You were in the same grade as him, but different high schools. While he went to a private school, you weren't quite a privileged and had to go to a public school. It was fine, but university out of the city was calling your name and the time couldn’t pass by any slower.

"Busy," you shrugged. Truth be told you barely had time for anything. This was the first free moment you had in weeks and somehow you managed to spend it with Damian. "How about you?"

"Busy," he raised an eyebrow at you, the hint of a smirk on his lips. He was mocking you, again. "Do you have plans? After graduation?"

"Central City," you told him. "I want to go to school there for -"

You never got to finish your sentence. The two of you had lost track of your dogs and neither of you had noticed Titus barreling towards you. There was no way you could have moved in time or that he was going to stop.

Titus towered over you as he jumped towards you. You braved yourself to hit the grass but it had never come. Instead arms caught you and steadied you back on your feet. Damian managed to keep you from falling with amazing strengthens lightning quick reflexes.

He didn't let go of you like expected. Instead he looked at the growing wonder in your eyes and the realization of how close you were. You swore that he could hear your heart thumping in your chest.

Both your dogs barked at you and brought you out of the brief moment. Damian dropped his arms and you awkwardly stepped back. You straightened your clothing and tried to tame the bright flush that rose up your neck. Damian cleared his throat and put his hands in his pockets.

"Thanks, for the save."

You kept the picture that Damian gave you on your desk in your room. Your mother, who always snooped through your room was quick to find it. She asked where you had found such a beautiful painting and after a moment of debating, you chose to tell her the truth. You were friends with Damian Wayne.

Growing up, you always figured that your mother had a little bit of a crush on Bruce Wayne. How could she not? He was rich, attractive, a great business man, he was perfect. You and your mother kept that little secret from your father - who you also suspected the attraction.

So when you told her that you knew his son, she had nearly squealed with excitement. And the fact that he had given you a gift as well? Your mother was already to start planning the wedding.

You were just friends with him, there was no need for her to freak out over this. However, you couldn't stop thinking about that brief moment that the two of you had a couple days before. Damian had the most mesmerizing green eyes that you had ever encountered in your life and you wanted nothing more than to look into them again.

However, you refrained from texting him about plans again. You talked to him daily since your last hang out but didn't want to force another puppy date - or just the two of you - for at least a few more days. He was a good friend, and you didn't want to spook him off before you got the chance to know him better.

Lucky for you, you never needed to worry about plans. Damian texted you the address of what you assumed to be a coffee shop just over a week since you had last seen him. You had to admit that waking up to his text Sunday morning had caused your heart to flutter with excitement.

By the time that you were dressed and on your way to the right place, it was just about ten in the morning. Terry was in your passenger's seat and his head was sticking out the window. As you pulled into the small parking space, you saw Damian waiting alone just outside the door.

His black hair was slicked back - different that it was every other time you saw him. You liked it that way, it showed off all his features and made it easier for you to admire. "Guess you weren't supposed to come, Ter," You looked over at your dog. "Oh well, too late now. Wish me luck, bud," you raised your hand for him to 'high-five', a trick you taught him a while ago.

Terry walked in front of you and was excited the moment that he laid eyes on Damian. He smiled as he saw you, an action you weren't expecting. "Sorry, I mentioned your name this morning and he wouldn't let me leave the house without him."

"You talk to him a lot, you know," Damian pointed out. A faint blush rose up your neck. "I saw you, both times in the car." Your cheeks felt like they were on fire - this could not be happening. He laughed at your embarrassment, the kind of teasing that made you wonder if he was trying to flirt. You desperately hoped that was the case.

Damian had the tendency to tease you lots when you spend time with him. Most of the time you could tell that he was joking, but the other majority of the time you couldn’t help but feel that there was more too it. A glimmer of something would shine in his eyes - a look that you couldn’t help but melt under.

"No worries, I talk to Titus all the time. He's the only one that doesn't come up with idiotic responses,” Damian assured, placing his hand on your shoulder. It was the first time that he had even come near to touching you on purpose and the shiver that ran up your spine had to have meant something.

"Dogs truly are man's best friend," You agreed. Damian retracted his hand and reached down to pat Terry on the head for a brief moment.

"Wait until you see my pet cow."

"You have a cow?" You didn't know what was more shocking - the fact that he truly owned a cow or that he wished you to come visit him at his home. Damian only nodded, he had many pets.

Terry was aimlessly walked between yours and Damian's legs. You didn't realize how much available leash he had until he had completely wrapped himself around the both of you. You weren't paying any attention to him - which once again had been a mistake on your behalf.

Another dog walked by on the street. Terry wasn't big, or strong, but when he wanted to pull, he could give a vicious tug. This happened just at the wrong time. You were trying to untangle yourself and as Terry tried to attack the passing dog, he had forced you to lose balance.

Once again, Damian had managed to catch up before you landed on the cement. You had gotten your wish of wanting to be close to him again. To smell the sharp cologne he wore and notice all the little imperfections on his face. The faint scars, the freckles on his dark skin. He truly was just as beautiful, if not more, as his father.

"I think our dogs are trying to get us together," You blurted out. First Titus, now Terry. They were the reason that you had met and the reason that you had stumbled into his arms twice now. You hadn't meant to speak you thoughts but it was true. You really thought that the dogs were aware of your feelings and were trying to make you act on them.

"I don't know about you and Terry, but I trust Titus with my life."

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne oneshot #damian wayne x reader #older!damian #fluff #titus #dc #fanfic #batfam

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years ago

Text

Promised Part Five (The Great Mini-series, Arranged Marriage AU)

A/N: Here it finally is!!!! Sorry it took forever, life happens.

Word Count: 4K

Summary: When the Emperor’s behavior gets your families alliance with Russia in danger, you agree to marry his best friend Grigor in order to make sure the alliance does not fall apart. You’re tossed into the Russian court and into the arms and bed of a Russian count, dodging his jealous ex lover, trying to survive the unpredictability.... but...what about yuou two? Are you and Grigor finally...feeling something for each other?

Warnings: Swearing, drunkeness, mentions of sex and nudity, marriage, and an in universe reference I couldn’t resist.

“Come here Sonya! Come here!” Lady Svenska cooed, wiggling her fingers.

The puppy trotted to her and she squealed in delight.

Tatiana bent her knees, her lime green dress bunching below her like icing on a cake as she did.

“Sonya! Sonya come!” she gestured.

With a happy trot, Sonya waddled over. She reached up, her tiny tail wagging.

“Oooo, good girl! Good girl!”

You had been invited to a tea party with the other ladies. Although you had gotten closer to the empress, you feared if they would see you as an enemy. Especially hearing of Catherine’s last tea party with them. So walking in, you brought your secret weapon. And it worked.

The only woman it seemed who was not having the time of her life with what was happening was Georgiana. Dressed in her purple gown and largest wig, she sat a little slumped on the couch. She was sipping her tea every now and then but crossing her arms. She stared daggers at the dog and how it trotted. She preferred any small circle that came over to obsess over the latest scandalous affair, but even then she kept one eye on Sonya as if the dog was a wolf ready to attack. She didn’t dare say a word to you. And you didn’t say a word to her. But if there was nothing said, then nothing bad could happen.

Smiling, you helped yourself to a red macaroon, delighting in the crunch and cream of it’s taste. Lady Svenska walked over to you and asked.

“Can she do tricks?” she questioned.

“Almost. She’s getting better at walking. She used to pull and run a lot, but she’s better at being obedient.”

“And she doesn’t tear things up?” she asked.

“Only sometimes. I have to watch where my dresses are stored,” you answered.

“Ah! She’s such a good dog! How lovely of you to bring her here, Madame Dymov!”

Georgiana’s eyes went dark.

“Will you come to our ball throwing this evening! It is most fun! Mine might go another inch!”

“I’d be delighted to! And be sure to tell me more about that maid with the baron old enough to be her grandfather too! And with copous details!” you added on.

“Oh! I do like you! And what of the Empress?”

“Well, we read. And we chat…”

“But all that reading!? Isn’t it time consuming!”

“A little. Her books can take time. I reread pages over and over…but in the best way. I suppose. It keeps her happy.”

“If you have any gossip about her, please share!”

“I..I, uh, will!” you promise.

“First of all, have you any plans or gifts to give her on her birthday, it’s coming up in about a month!”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you mumbled.

At that moment your husband entered the room. He seemed a little uncomfortable with all of the flowers and pastel dresses, eyeing birds singing ditties in shiny cages and macaroons piled to his chest on platters.

“Oh, Y/N…where is Y/N?” he asked to one lady in a pink dress and grey wig.

She pointed in your direction and he smiled.

As he walked by, he passed the couch where Georgiana was sitting. Her shoe tapped his calf and he turned.

“Hello, Grigor…” she said with a faded grin.

“Hello, George,” he replied politely. Somehow, your blood felt hot. But yet, the marriage was over, so what if they even talked? He probably just enjoyed you talking with him and occasionally sleeping with him. But no, they had to be soulmates. And it was better not to disturb them. After all, despite the suddenness of the marriage, it would work. He would be happy.

“How is the party?” he asked, hands placed behind the back.

“Going perfect. We’re being introduced to the loud, hairy creature that lifts her leg when she pisses. Her dog is there too.” She quipped with a surprisingly relieved smile.

You froze. Little Sonya recognized Grigor and ran up to him, oblivious to how white his face was turning. A few fans were spread, and you barely heard feminine whispers of “…quite bitchy…” It got a little quiet. Even with the string quartet in the back was playing at a piano as if they wanted to hear what would happen next to.

Getting up, you turned around to leave them alone. Let them take it out. Let him laugh, Let her smile. Maybe even fuck against the wall like you noticed the odd couple doing on a night of reveling in the palace, no matter who might see or hear.

“George. I can’t control what you do on your own. But when you are with me, you will not speak about my wife in that matter.”

Pausing, you turned around. A couple quiet tears fell down your cheeks.

“You’re an esteemed lady of the court with the world at your fingertips. She’s a poor creature thrown into an arranged marriage, stolen from another country, and little to never to see any of her family or friends again while you just lay down and let Peter put fruit in your pussy and drink champagne.”

Wiping away tears with your hands, you stood still, not sure what to say. Grigor continued, truly angered and passionate.

“I didn’t marry her because of you. And she didn’t marry me so she could have my cock when you couldn’t. I did this so that we all- we all-“ he gestured to the people in the room “won’t be fucking ripped apart by Swede’s in a fortnight thanks to her families army. You will show her what little compassion you have in your tiny heart. You could even show her an ounce of gratitude for the sacrifice she and I made for the safety of everyone here, including yours. Or else I could have said no and let the swedes stab you in your tits when you’re asleep in the emperor’s bed. And I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it too. But I did.”

She froze. There was even a couple of gasps.

Scooping the tiny dog in his arms, he turned ot you promptly.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I…I am…” you answered. “But I’m tired, let’s go home and play cards.”

“I agree.”

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

A week later, Grigor had partied so much with the Emperor last night, wrestling and playing with some man named Leon or whoever. You peaked in the door, and yawning, retired to your own apartments to sleep even if alone.

Waking up briefly in the grey air, you felt him crawling into bed at four in the morning. So you let him sleep in as you took Sonya on her morning walk. Besides, she would pout and whine if you didn’t walk at her certain time.

“Here you go, I know, Papa can’t be there-but I will,” you assured the dog.

You made your way through the halls into the gardens. Sonya was already getting bigger. The collar and leash made for her a while ago was getting snug on her fluffy body.

Enjoying the forest, you heard the rhythmic crunch of the leaves and sticks beneath Sonya’s prancing paws. The cold air stung your lungs in the best way. The sky looked clear and crisp.

Sonya pointed her snout in one direction. She began pulling and barking.

“What is it? Some sort of creature!” you thought, walking forward.

It wasn’t a mouse of squirrel, there was a person slumped against a tree, sitting on the dirt. Walking closer, you made out a dark green skirt and a hat, but a head of dark, curly hair made loose. She reeked of vodka and beer. Her face was pale to where she seemed ill, rather than the lovely cream color of her skin. And beneath her eyes there were several bags.

“G..Georgiana…”

She turned her head to you, squinting.

“Yes…” she grunted.

“What are you doing here?”

She began to laugh a little, bitterly.

“I could ask the same…what are you doing here?”

“I’m walking Sonya…she needs to be exercised so she won’t get into trouble from being bored,” you explained, gripping the leash.

“Huh, I know sometimes…sometimes Grigor goes with you…” her voice was deep and throaty, far from her usual speaking tone. As if every word was choked up.

She seemed so pitiful you didn’t have the heart to chafe her.

“Yes, yes he does…”

Her exhausted eyes wandered forward into the grove of trees. She kept speaking to you.

“Sometimes we’d walk together. Only if it was nice. We did everything together. Walking. Eating. Dancing. Bathing together. Did you know…I even got my portrait painted and he kept it in his room! Right next to his bed…he…he cared for me so much to where I was right there with him every morning even when I wasn’t next to him and now…now he hates me…”

She began to sniffle, and a few tears worked up.

“No. No, I don’t think he hates you at all…”

“Why did he speak to me that way?”

“He just…he got emotional. And he has been emotional because he loves you. He’s every bit as sad as you are for not marrying…”

Sonya walked over to the crying woman. Alerted by the sounds, she walked over and sniffed at her wet face. She broke out a smile.

“But the truth is…in this court, there’s plenty of women who’ve fucked Peter. More than half. That’s just a fact of life. But I… I love it. I love having men want me, being worshipped, loved, is that wrong?”

“It’s normal,” you admitted. “it’s normal to want to be loved.”

“And the things it gives you. It’s not the least bad. I have all sorts of things. Dresses. Hats. A high position in court. Security. Comfort. Occasionally I can change laws and save lives with just a word-imagine that! And jewels. Jewels I used to dream of having. And I get to enjoy making love to a man who’s skilled at it. It might be the only way for a woman here to move up. That’s the way it is, is that wrong? Is it wrong to enjoy fucking and love a man too? For them to be separate men? They do it all the time and no one bats an eye bit when I do…”

She finally fell down into sobs.

“And he just...he couldn’t accept it. He claimed he loved me, and I… I love him, I still do, he just couldn’t accept me as I am and this world as it is…I thought he knew me…and that I knew him…”

She began to cry more; Sonya reached over and began to lick her face. She laughed at the ridiculous feeling of a dog’s tongue right on your nose and you began to laugh too.

“Georgiana…I’m so sorry I yelled at you that first day…I saw you as a threat and didn’t stop to think what you would feel. How I would feel if I was in your shoes…”

“Ugh, you’re…you’re as saccharine as…as…I don’t even know, Y/N. I’d put you in my…my mouth and my blood would rush, and they’d have to let it out with slugs.”

Taking out a handkerchief, you began to wipe her tears from her face.

“I’m not the one in tears…but…he used to keep a portrait of you…” you questioned.

“He did…is it there? Maybe….”

“Not anymore…” you explained flatly.

So that explained the circular area on the wall next to the bed.

“I know you really do love Grigor. And you care for him…but loving someone is hard. I love my family and friends back home, or unless I wanted to make all of them suffer or even get killed, I had to let them go to come here…sometimes, there are things you have to let go and move on from…” you assured her. You aren’t a bad person for wanting those things. You’re a smart person for figuring out how to get them. I admire you for it.”

“I just keep wondering…I keep wondering what would happen if he said yes…if he agreed to the terms…we’d be so happy…”

And he would see you with Peter and be miserable. Then god knows what would happen you thought.

You took her arm and helped her to her shaky legs.

“But there’s no use in that. Here, let’s get you back to the palace. I think after you get some water and some sleep, you might feel better…”

“But Y/N, Grigor I think…he’s in denial how Peter works here. If a woman needs anything in court, and if Peter picks you…he picks you. And, well, there’s nothing you can do about it…”

Your stomach lurched.

“Grigor might want a faithful wife. He might’ve thought he got that with you but…defying the Emperor is a risk. Too huge. Why say no? After all, he’s a genius at fucking so it could be worse…”

“You need water, Georgiana. And you need to clean up. Then you’ll feel better…” you interrupted, trying to mother her away and ignoring the fear in your gut.

But as you were strolling later in the week, returning from another one of the Empresses’s private discussions, you saw a few ladies eye down at the book. Perhaps they judged you. Perhaps they were jealous. But one bespecaled face saw you, smiled, and then hurried up.

“Orlo! How are you?”

“Y/N-er-Madame Dymov! Enough about me already- I heard the Empress gave you a copy of the Rousseau! What do you think!?” he asked excitedly.

His dark eyes glittered at the book in your hands. Holding it up to him you let him inspect it.

“I was…I was shocked at first. His ideas felt like…like a blast of cold wind. But I…he made good points. And I found myself agreeing after some time…” you explained with a shrug.

“He’s one of my favorites, and tehre’s so much…so much inside there. But I…I wish I could explain it all…”

“Let’s go to my place, I’ll call for a plate...” you offered with a shrug and a smile.

Introducing him to the drawing room, he settled down shyly on the seat in front of the fire. You brought in some tea with a strawberry cake and wound up talking for a straight hour. He got his own turn to pet on little Sonya as she licked his fingers from the cake crumbs. You discussed Rousseau, then he went on to talk about Voltaire, Plato, Paine. Ideas stretched you and you found yourself talking about things you could never imagine debating about with anyone. About people. Power. Faith. Life. Death. Purpose, if there was one at all. Your cup became cold and you had to reheat it by pouring some liquid into it.

Orlo glowed as he explained it all. He was not condescending. In fact, it felt like being in school with a good teacher. You understood and appreciated it even more. You were amazed with the depth of knowledge he had. Beneath his mousy exterior, there was a brilliant mind. Perhaps even genius. You were amazed in him. Strands of his hair loosened out and he smiled more, seeming relaxed and confident. Far more confident than you ever knew him to be in public.

“But out of all of them, I think my favorite is…”

The door creaked as it opened.

His head turned and you saw Grigor walking in. His face was pink, and his eyebrows crossed.

“Hello Orlo, what are you doing with my wife?” he asked, his lips tight and his voice firm.

“I, uh…” he found himself blubbering. His posture slouched and his hands retreated.

Standing at once, you walked up to Grigor with as much poise as you could.

“The empress gifted me with a book and Orlo was asking me about it over tea, nothing more…” you explained plainly.

“It’s fascinating. Isn’t it!” you added, throwing back a look.

Orlo nodded shyly, getting out of the seat like it had spikes.

“Very.”

“Oh, alright…” Grigor replied quietly.

Once Orlo thanked you for hosting him and shuffled out, Grigor’s eyes never left his steps.

He was quiet over dinner. You had to ask questions about his day and have Sonya’s begging fill the silence. Later, you changed into your nightgown to see Grigor was already in bed.

You saw him curl up to the other side. Not turning around, holding the blanket over his shoulders and leaving your side disproportionally cold.

With a huff, you placed your hands on your hips.

“What is it?” You had a guess, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong” he said in a tone that said something was definitely wrong.

“What is it…tell me…” you wheedled, sitting on the bed and leaning closer to him.

He turned around.

“I understand we agreed to follow orders to marry. Not for us. Our countries, the safety of your family and for their workers and tenets to not go hungry, for protection, the alliance, and for Russia to succeed against the Swedes… but I know you didn’t choose to marry me…if you…if you…are in love… then I guess it would make it easier…but you will at least be honest with me and not play around when you fall in love with some man!”

“In love? With Orlo?!” you added.

His head snapped back at the sound of his name.

“If you love the prick, then that’s fine! It will make you bear being here better- it’s all fine!” He if it will make you bear this, bear being married to me…”

“I’m not in love with Orlo!” you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched a little, but didn’t turn away.

“What…you aren’t? Both of you always talk together.”

“I always talk with the empress, and Tatyana and everyone else too. They’re my friends. He’s my friend as well… and…I…I promised you I won’t hurt you. That I will do my best not to hurt you…and you’re obviously hurt…” you reasoned.

The clock chimed the hour in the back.

“I…yes, I was…I had memories of when…you know…” he muttered out, looking down.

You folded your arms and turned away from him.

“Well, have you ever kissed Georgiana since our marriage? I guess you can run back to her, like I’m apparently running to Orlo. Should I be worried about her?”

“Uh-no! Not at all! We’ve barely talked since the betrothal! I talk more to Sonya than I do to her in a fortnight!” he said, pointing to the dog curled asleep on her pillow.

You crossed your arms and started to laugh a little. A smile cracked on his thin face as well.

“If I have no reason to suspect you of anything with George, you have no reason to suspect anything of me and Orlo!” you reasoned with a shrug.

Leaning forward, you pulled more of the cover to your side. He relented.

Both of you were tense. Words left your voice.

“Just dinner and drinks with your friend, nothing more. Perfectly normal.” You assured.

Even if it meant eating in his chambers with large portraits all over the wall and a big green bed on the other side. Peter stood up and greeted you both. His arms were wide, pearls dangling from his neck.

“Ah, hello! Join me!” Peter cheered. “Grigor-make yourself at home! There’s already some food.

You carefully walked in, placing yourself on the couch and folded your hands in front of your lap. Unsure of what to do or say. A finger nudged you.

“Here, Y/N…here’s the seat for you!” your husband said, taking his large hands around your waist and picking you up as you let out a smile.

Grigor placed you on his lap, like he did on your wedding. Smiling, you accepted the feeling of him nearby and settled your weight. The closeness far more natural than ever. Grigor’s arms were warm as they passed dishes around from one man to the Emperor. A serf poured a Kiev vdoka and you enjoyed yourselves.

“I tell you- fucked a horse! It’s just a rumor-but can you believe it!” he said.

Laughing in spite of yourself, you shook your head insisting “no, I don’t!”

Smiling. Laughing. Everything felt normal. You laughed so hard you almost snorted your drinkand covered your mouth, laughing more at the dirtier humor. Years ago, your mother would have become so uncomfortable at such words she would excuse herself and complain about it later. Laughs held back were finally released, you jaw uhrt and your cheeks felt hot.

“And that’s what hapoens when you use the duck whistle on the balcony-“Oh, Grigor! Have I fucked your wife yet?”

The drink you were sipping almost spat out of your mouth and you coughed it out. Both of you froze again. You felt Grigor tense up. His breath quickened. His face turned white and then red and then white again. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Turning your head back, you began to give a charming smile at the emperor, even giving the little half smile you noticed to do. You decided if the subject came up, you would be prepared.

“Your highness, of yes, of course we’ve fucked. Several times!” you said.

Where he couldn’t see, you kicked Grigor’s leg to alert him.

“Oh, really!” he said.

“Ah! What a Casanova you are, Emperor! Losing track! But…”

You circled the rim of your glass, and then added on.

“I have an eternally dry pussy, can’t suck cock to save my life, and an ass so tight that deflects any object near the hole so it’s been rather disappointing. It’s a miracle my husband tolerates me. He’s hardly been able to finish the job!”

He tilted his head, pondering it with a hmmmm. Glancing at Grigor, you quickly mouthed “play along.” His eyes bright, he nodded at you, and then to the Emperor in agreement.

“Yes! Fucking Y/N is a total disappointment. Remember her place? They’re boring, plain people even when fucking.”

Peter nodded in agreement, his eyes up to the sky as if thinking about the fake experience. Not that it was to think.

“Humph. I…I think you’re right. It was disappointing. Grigor, if you need me to order you a whore, let me know.”

You kept your hand on his and you saw his eyes dart in confusion and realization, his brain thinking a hundred thoughts.

“Please pour me another drink…” you said, holding your cup to a serf.

“Besdies, Catherine…she’s been having all these ideas about art. And I saw a portrait and I…I cried! I fucking cried-can you believe it? I never knew she could..could even make me feel like that!”

As you left the chambers, you squeezed his hand. Both of you let out a breath and continued some nervous laughter until you were both home.

“That was brilliant!” He praised, sinking in relief in the chair. There was already a fire crackling, drawing warmth into the chilly room.

“I knew he would bring it up, soon. So, I might as well. Now you don’t have to worry about anything…at least for now…” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, but the party tomorrow…you’ll be careful. I think people will be very merry and he might…get carried away…”

“Just give him a galloon a vodka then, he’ll won’t be able to stand.”

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

As the party the next night raged on, it struck you that it was Grigor who was well on his way to drinking a gallon of vodka. The rooms glowed yellow orange with all of the candles. Stringed guitars played out dancing tunes with throaty Russian lyrics where although the words were hard to understand, you had to tap your toes. Women walked by with snakes draped over their necks and you stared in frightened awe at the creature, as if in Eden. Your own gown was a pale pink with bows on the stomacher, a ruffled skirt beneath the first one, and you hair done up in flowers and feathers. You even agreed to wear a beauty mark of a small dog on your cheek. Girgor himself had a grey wig and his finest, deep green suit. He eyed plates of vodka, reaching for two small glasses and downing them…and supper would be served in an hour.

You noticed and Empress and Emperor dancing. She swished her pale pink skirt and he twirled in a black skirt, carefree. It was almost like watching a fight, how they were both powerful yet matched each other.”

“Come on, you sad bastards!? Why aren’t you dancing!? Dance! I command you!” Peter cried out in joy.

“Y/N! Y/N- we haven’t danced too much-let’s dance! Dance with me!” Grigor insisted, pulling you further down.

“Grigor, that’s the vodka talking!”

The musicians were warming up for the next piece in the corner.

“I…I don’t know the…” you mumbled in a panic as other couples filled the floor.

“Oh no-just follow me!” He said with a big smile and his face flushed.

Still you ran out with him, mimicking hand movements and your feet trying to keep up with the steps. If you felt him leading you somewhere, you followed. If you sepearted in lines, you kept an eye on him.

“Girgor…do the trick! The trick!” Peter insisted, running up in the middle.

Eyes wide, you saw your husband grab hold of your body.

“Here. Y/N! I can do it- hold on! Jump up.

He lifted you up in his arms and twirled you up, his arms adjusting to hold you up so that he held you up by your legs, your stomach to his face. You could hear him muffling beneath your clothes.

“We need smof practif…”

But Peter laughed and you heard loud applauding as faces turned to look at you. Even George’s own face had a smile, albeit a sad one.

He set you down.

“Let’s try it again, put your leg on my shoulder…now your other leg..ooof! Now, this one is better!”

He lifted you up so high, you realized you were on his shoulders, and emabarrasingly his head was near your crotch. The court applauhded and laughed and huzzahed. It was so fun you almost forgot your fear of being dropped. you laughed as you held onto his shoulders for deaer life, thrilled to see everyone smaller before you. As if they dhrunk or you became a giant. The chandeliers dripping with diamonds were easy to your touch, your fingertips grazed one as Grigor walked in a circle.

“Ha! I knew you could do it good chap!” Peter applauded before asking.

Grigor placed you down with a smile, he placed his hands on your cheeks and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, then his eyes wandered to some vodka and he took another shot.

He was singing as the party ended late in the night. You struggled to support him over your shoulders.

“Grigor…be careful…”

Once you got into the room, Sonya woke up from her nap and barked, jumping at your feet. Staggering, you brought him to your bedchambers.

“Let’s get your clothes off…” you said, pulling his coat off and placing it on the floor.

“You wish to see me naked, you could’ve asked, darling…”

Sighing, you poured the hot water into the golden tub.

“If you don’t bathe, then you’re sleeping with Sonya…”

He leaned down in his shift and breeches to the wagging tail beneath him.

“Oh….hello doggie, cute doggie…good doggie…”

“To bath, Grigor!”

Eventually, you got him to bathe enough to where he didn’t reek of alcohol. Once he dried off, you pushed his breeches onto him.

“None of that tonight with you drunk off your head!”

“Can’t I at least kiss you?” he complained childishly.

“Fine, but it stops at kissing!”

Once you finally settled within your own sheets, legs and feet sore from dancing, you barely put the blankets over you when you felt two large arms wrap themselves around you and hug you tight, pulling you close. He laughed a bit before kissing you on top of your head. You smirked and let him obloge. Then you felt him relax.

“Y/N, I love you….”

You froze solid, your stomach dropping.

“What?”

He took a hand and placed it on your cheek again, before it sloppily fell down.

“Y/N, my sweet angel…I love you…”

Shaking your head, you pulled the covers above you both.

“That’s the vodka talking, now go to sleep….”

He went back to holding you, turning you so that your back was turned to him, you felt and smelt his breath as he kept speaking.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m falling in love with you this minute and…I’m fucking terrified…”

You let his arms settle.

“Don’t wanna…get hurt, get shat on…but every day I’m….falling more in love with you…and it makes me both so happy and scared I could fucking scream…that was why Orlo fucking scared me, and Peter, that wonderful, bastard. I love him, but if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god…”

“Grigor…you need to sleep. You’re drunk. Only time will wear it off.”

Besides, it was better to not get your hopes up.

‘I can’t believe I’m fucking falling in fucking love all over again…never thought after George that I would….never would let myself…thought ”

“But Grigor…you….”

“I’d like to see you…see you happy. See your smiling face before I sleep.”

You gave him a small smile and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Grigor…do you…do you love me….do you really love me…”

You gave him a small smile. He then rolled on his belly, spread like a starfish. He was snoring deeply in minutes.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you too…” you wanted to say.

taglist: @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joesleee @grigorlee@itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @rhapsodyrecs @sebastiistan @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @gwiilymslee @isitstraightvodka @cherry--coke

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littlelovelyspiderling · 4 years ago

Text

Unmasked

Spider-Man is forced to fight the Sinister Six while he’s sick, which leads to his enemies making unexpected discoveries about their arch nemesis.

Chapter 2

Doc Oc’s notoriously dull and empty lab was filled with bodies and excitement that evening. The Sinister Six piled eagerly into the large room as Octavius dumped a bloody, unconscious Spider-Man onto one of the examination tables. An uproar of cheers and laughter followed.

“The spider is finally squashed!”

“Is he still alive? No way he’s still alive.”

“Heart’s still beating, according to the computer.”

“Who cares? The little bitch finally got what was coming to him.”

“I wanna break his other leg. Can I break his other leg?”

“Now, now, listen, my comrades.” Octavius rose above the group on his metal limbs, tapping a glass against a bottle of champagne until the room fell quiet. “Before we continue, I think a win this spectacular deserves to be celebrated accordingly.”

Using the prehensile pincers at the ends of each tentacle, Otto poured and distributed the alcohol with ease, and everyone raised their glasses.

“A toast to us, the greatest super villains to ever grace history!”

“Here, here!”

“And a toast to Spider-Man! The biggest, most obnoxious pain in all our asses—vanquished at last!”

Laughs and shouts preceded the communion. After downing his drink, Otto wiped his lips with a grin.

“And as the leader of this great and glorious team, I am nothing if not giving to my loyal followers. Since you all deserve personal retribution for the many, many grievances this wretch has inflicted upon us, I promise each of you at least two minutes of reparation time to do to Spider-Man whatever you feel he deserves. Once we wring his throat dry of whatever information he possesses, he’s all yours. So long as I get to deal the final blow.” He chuckled. “Well, if he survives that long, anyway.”

“I’ll snap off all his fingers!”

“I’ll gag him with his own webbing!”

“I’ll pop his head like a grape!”

“I’ll zap him ’til his heart stops, then zap it back to life, then zap him dead again!”

“Revenge is sweet,” Octavius concurred, walking around the table to stand behind Spider-Man’s head. The rest of the Sinister Six went silent and gathered on either side of the fallen hero, with Rhino at his feet. “But first,” Doc continued, reaching forward with one of his mechanical tentacles. The tips of the metal prongs pinched the fabric at the top of Spider-Man’s mask.

“Let’s have a look at our arch enemy’s face.”

In one quick yank, the mask peeled off the hero’s head. Six pairs of eyes absorbed the bruised, pale face lying lifelessly before them—the face of their sworn nemesis. A face none of them were anticipating. Gradually, the grins and snickers faded away, replaced by furrowed brows and puzzled glances.

“Wait…” Electro said, breaking the long stretch of silence.

“I’m…confused,” Scorpion added.

“Is he—does he look—?”

“Like…a kid?”

Everyone’s gazes rose to Octavius. The brilliant scientist looked between them and Spider-Man bewilderedly, his mouth hanging agape.

“I…” he began, rolling the hero’s head to the side. An ugly gash marred his left cheek; dried blood was smeared all the way to his hairline. “I don’t…understand.”

Spider-Man had the soft, innocent face of a child. It was the kind of face grandmas couldn’t resist pinching and puppies just had to lick. His hair was a wild mess of brown curls that was sticking up all funny because of how long he’d been wearing his mask. He severely lacked the sharp, signature features that defined man from boy. Hell, he even had acne: tiny constellations of it dotted across his chin and forehead. No way was he considered a legal adult by the state of New York yet.

Spider-Man was no man at all. Spider-Man was, in fact, a Spider-Kid.

Otto lifted his eyes to the others. He didn’t know what to say.

“It’s not him,” Scorpion suggested.

Sandman scoffed. “What do you mean, ‘it’s not him’?”

“Maybe this isn’t Spider-Man,” he said. “Maybe the real Spider-Man sent a double. Someone to stand in his place while he’s busy or whatever to keep us at bay.”

“Spider-Man’s despicable if he’s sending some kid to fight his battles for him. Doesn’t sound like his style.”

“I don’t know! I’m just brainstorming here! I mean, you saw how pathetic he was today. Spider-Man normally puts up a better fight than that.”

“Yeah,” Electro said nervously. “Maybe it’s not him.”

“He was sticking to things and shooting webs and mouthing off just like the real Spider-Man always does,” Shocker retorted. “I’m pretty sure this is him.”

“Silence!” Octavius shouted, holding up his fist. He turned to the large screen on his right. “Computer, run biological and forensic diagnostics on Spider-Man.”

A series of beams and lasers scanned across the hero, gathering and analyzing information. About a minute later, a robotic voice spoke up.

“Facial and DNA match confirmed,” the A.I. replied. “Subject is Peter Benjamin Parker. Born to parents Richard and Mary Parker on August 10th, 2001. Age: fifteen. Address: 42-42 80th St, Queens, NY 11373. Current occupation: Intern at Stark Industries and sophomore high school student at Midtown School of Science and Technology.”

Stinging disbelief pricked all of them. Rhino’s jaw fell.

“Fifteen?”

“Sophomore?”

“High school?”

It was strange to finally be able to put a name and face to someone they had all known only as a masked caricature for so long. Peter Parker. Peter. And yet, the face still had everyone reeling to the point that the name hardly registered. Otto slammed a metal arm against the table.

“Shut up, all of you!” he spat. “Computer, relay back all the biological data you’ve gathered on Spider-Man.”

“Confirmed,” the A.I. said. “Subject’s current heart rate is 52 bpm. Subject’s current blood pressure is the 79mmHg. Subject’s current temperature is 105.8 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“None of those sound normal,” Sandman said with a snort.

“Relay DNA findings,” Doc Oc barked impatiently.

“Confirmed. Subject’s DNA is mutated and abnormal. Subject’s blood emits low levels of gamma radiation. Subject’s genome is human combined with an unidentifiable species of arachnid.”

Everyone’s eyes snapped up at once. The realization drizzled over them like baleful mist.

“Oh my god,” Sandman breathed. “It’s him.”

“You mean he’s actually part spider? Gag!”

With a scoff, Electro stepped away from the table, cupping his hands against the back of his neck. “You’re kidding me. You’re shitting me. You’re telling me this is the person I’ve been trying to kill this whole time? This is the guy I’ve been frying like a mozzarella stick?” He kicked a trash bin across the room. “Dammit! I do a lot of bad things, but I’d never knowingly hurt a child!”

“Spider-Man is just some fifteen-year-old high school brat?” Rhino said, pouting his lip. “Geez. I can’t believe we just beat the shit out of some kid.”

“Spider-Man is not just some kid!” Otto roared. “Who cares about his age! Have you all suddenly forgotten how much this bastard has antagonized every last one of us? How he’s foiled our plans and ruined our lives again and again for the past two years?”

Sandman pressed the heels of his hands to his temples. “Oh my god. Does that mean I’ve been beating him up since he was fourteen? My niece is three years older than him, and I can’t imagine putting her through what I’ve done to him!” He squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. “What kind of monster am I...?”

“I broke his damn leg,” Shocker said distraughtly. “And I enjoyed it.”

“Hell, guys…this is so messed up…”

Five members of the Sinister Six stewed in a sauna of shame and guilt. Octavius refused to join them.

“You spineless morons! All of you! Our enemy lays defeated in front of us, yet you choose to wallow in remorse! We should be celebrating! Nothing has changed! He’s young—so what? That doesn’t undermine all the frustration he’s caused us, or our glorious victory over him! Come on, now! Raise your glasses with me! To the Sinister Six! Guys...?”

Nothing he said could wipe the queasy looks off all their faces, or the guilty stickiness he felt in his own gut. Everything—all of this—it just felt wrong.

Sandman stood over Spider-Man and gingerly placed his hand against his forehead. It was startlingly hot and damp with sweat. “Computer, why is Spider-Man’s temperature so damn high? What’s the cause?”

A couple seconds later, the A.I. pinged. “Confirmed,” it said. “Subject has a norovirus infection. It appears subject has been infected for at least twenty-four hours. Norovirus is commonly diagnosed as gastroenteritis or the stomach flu. Symptoms include fever, cramps, dizziness, lightheadedness, and nausea.”

A groan swept through the room. Scorpion crossed his arms against the table and buried his head between them.

“He’s sick. That’s why he seemed so sluggish and off during the fight. Because we were beating up a sick kid.”

“Shit. Last time I had the stomach flu, I didn’t leave my bed for two days. He really thought he could take us on in his condition?”

“Not like we really gave him a choice,” Shocker murmured.

“The little punk probably didn’t even think twice about it,” Sandman said miserably. “After all, his dumbass adolescent brain is still developing.”

Rhino sulked. “Yeah, as long as we didn’t permanently damage it...”

The Sinister Six fell into a dreadful silence.

At that moment, Spider-Man coughed. The group jumped and gasped, automatically assuming defensive positions with their fists raised, weapons drawn, and muscles coiled.

Spider-Man coughed again, his head lolling to the left, but he didn’t wake up. A collective sigh passed everyone’s lips. Electro went lax, his hands falling to his sides.

“So…um…what the hell do we do now?”

Scorpion frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what do we do? We have him here, beat to a pulp. What are we going to do with him?”

For the first time, Spider-Man was at the complete mercy of his most powerful enemies. And for the first time, none of them wanted to chop off his head and impale it on a spike.

Sandman gazed across the bruises on his face, the road burn striped across his limbs, the bloody puncture wound in his chest. His swollen leg, his black eye, the charred fabric and flesh. He hadn’t allowed himself to take all the damage in for what it was until now. A truly abominable and grisly sight.

“He won’t survive long if we just leave him like this,” he said quietly.

Again, all eyes rose to Dr. Octopus. Otto grimaced between their pitiful looks, their reluctantly pleading stares. Pathetic! he wanted to shout, but he couldn’t find the will to conjure the word—any words.

Soon enough, he felt his own callous facade melting away. He sighed.

“I…I suppose keeping him alive is in our best interest. For now.” He cleared his throat and pulled the goggles off his face. “I’ll clean and treat his injuries as best I can. At least to the point that they’re not life-threatening.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Go—get some rest, all of you. We’ll, uh—we’ll regroup in the morning.”

The Sinister Six exchanged nervous looks with each other, then turned back to the face of the half-dead fifteen-year-old in front of them. Hesitantly, they filed out of the room and up the stairs, shooting a couple anxious glances over their shoulders before climbing out of sight.

The room was eerily quiet now that it was just the two of them. An evil scientist and an unconscious super-child in spandex. The only noises were the beeps from the monitor on his right and the kid’s shaky, labored breathing.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Octavius scoffed. “Of course, now that we’ve finally bested you, this is what we end up with. This is what you are.”

With a thought, the claws at the end of one of his tentacles reconfigured into large shears. The material that made up Spider-Man’s suit was tough, but with a few strategic cuts and snips, Doc was able to tear through and peel the clingy fabric off his body. Now that he was stripped down to nothing but his boxers (which had tiny cartoon Iron Men on them, a sight that made him snort, despite his efforts not to) the devastating harm they’d inflicted upon him was painfully evident. The ratio of undamaged flesh to damaged flesh was sickeningly skewed toward the latter. There was so much to tend to, he wasn’t sure where to start. And it wasn’t like his doctorate had been in medical care.

“We really did a number on you, didn’t we Spider-Man?” Otto murmured. He looked back at the screen. “I mean…Peter. Peter Parker.”

The name felt salty on his tongue. He didn’t like how it humanized him, transforming the famous vigilante from vexing public figure to baby-faced teenager. He’d always dreamt of unmasking the scourge that was the elusive Spider-Man. Now he wished the day had never come.

He left Peter’s side to grab the medical kit from under the sink. Then he got to work, undoing the damage they had reaped.

___________________________________

“Computer, summarize what you’ve gathered on Peter Parker’s personal life.”

Roughly four hours later, Octavius flopped into a chair by the kid’s side, exhausted. He had treated all the wounds he had the capacity to treat, hooked him to an I.V. full of fluids and electrolytes, and was now monitoring his steadily improving vitals. The kid was a suture-filled, burn cream-lathered, bandaged-up mess, but at least he was on the mend instead of his death bed. Seemed like a good time to take a break and do some research on the person behind their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

“Confirmed,” the A.I. responded. “Compiling personal file.”

A slide with pictures and lists regarding Peter’s life materialized on the screen.

“Peter Parker was born in Queens, New York and still lives there today. He lived in a house in Forest Hills until 2005, then moved into the apartment complex he currently lives in now.”

“A house in New York City?” Otto scoffed. “How lavish. Why the downsize?”

The A.I. enlarged a photograph—a man and a woman holding a bright-eyed, squishy-faced toddler sporting a familiar headful of brown curls.

“Peter’s biological parents, Mary and Richard Parker, died in a plane crash in March of that year.”

A knot formed in Otto’s gut as he stared at the happy family portrait. “Oh,” he said.

“Orphaned at age four, Peter was then adopted by his aunt and uncle, May and Ben Parker. They couldn’t afford to live in the house in Forest Hills, so they moved Peter into their apartment nearby.”

Another picture floated up, this one of a different couple hugging a slightly older version of the curly-haired toddler. After that, a series of images flashed across the screen—young Peter at Central Park, at a science fair, at the zoo, at home, on the subway, on the Brooklyn Bridge, passed out on a couch. With each new picture, he got bigger, older, but not by much. Sometimes his aunt and uncle were with him. Sometimes he was with others his age. Sometimes he had on glasses as thick as windshields. His smile was wide as the sun and just as bright.

In the last picture, he was standing next to Tony Stark, holding an upside-down certificate congratulating him on his acceptance as a Stark Industry’s intern.

“Barf,” Otto muttered, but he couldn’t displace the warm, uneasy feeling he got when he looked at Peter’s smiling face. He really was just a kid. A young, dorky, stupid kid. A kid they’d beat into the dirt ten times over.

“Last year, May Parker became Peter’s sole guardian.”

Octavius blinked, his shoulders tensing. “What happened to the uncle? Ben Parker?”

“Ben Parker was murdered last April by an unknown shooter. The culprit was never caught.”

Octavius swallowed, staring at the photograph of Spider-Man’s uncle. Then he turned back to the mummified teenager on the table beside him. For an instant, something he never thought he could feel for the spider-themed superhero brushed his heart.

Sympathy.

With a huff, Otto stood from his chair. “Come along then, arachnid,” he said, lifting the kid and the I.V. stand in his metal arms. “Let’s find you a more comfortable spot to rest.”

It was well past 4am by the time Octavius slumped into his own bed.

#spiderman #spider-man #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman homecoming #Spider-Man: Homecoming #spider-man: far from home #spiderman ffh #avengers #mcu #marvel #sick fic #peter parker

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trashy-slashy · 4 years ago

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yooo do you write for soulmate AUs? because like... the sinclair brothers finding their soulmates and that's what spares them from getting killed tho

I have such a soft spot for Soulmate AU’s and for these boys! I’m so excited for this prompt ee

Bo heard stories as a child about soulmates. That touching the person who you were meant for would burn, a searing pain that would mark you both, sealing your fates together. He talked about it with Vincent, mulling over what sort of soulmate they would like. “You don’t get to pick” Vincent would grumble, earning himself a pout from his twin. “I know, I’m just wonderin’”. But then came dinner. Bo hid. He knew what his father would do. “There you are you lil’ fucker” He snarled, slamming open the closet door. Bo screamed, thrashing against his grip. “Stop it boy! It will only get worse!” The chair. The restraints. Tears flowed down Bo’s face, his mother tutting at his behaviour. “You are never gonna find a soulmate Bo, you’re a monster.”

Bo never thought about it after that. Never even the possibility. He was a monster. At least he had Vincent. Every hitchhiker he picked off the road made Ambrose a little less lonely, for a little while. Bo forgot how to feel human for a long time. He forgot how to feel anything. He supported and loved his brother, the way Mama used to, but his heart wasn’t in it. He chased and maimed his victims, hoping to feel something. Nothing worked.

When you showed up in Ambrose, Bo sighed. “Here we go again.” He threw his cigarette to the floor, crushing the flame with his heel. “Hey darlin’, you lost?” You smiled nervously at him. Bo smirked, running his fingers through his hair. This one would be too easy.

Bo toyed with you, letting you wear yourself out, darting all over Ambrose in an attempt to find help. He could have killed you hours ago, but chasing you was more interesting than doing nothing. “I’m not gonna hurt ya sweetheart” You had your back pressed against one of the buildings, wishing the wall would swallow you up. The sky had turned dark an hour or so ago, giving you some cover between the houses. You glanced around frantically, desperating trying to hear what direction your attacker was coming from.

Bo spotted you a while ago, but wandered past anyway, letting you think you were safe. It was always so much sweeter when they still had a fragment of hope. He heard you scuttle around the back of the house, sneaking around to cut you off. “Found you-“ Bo sprang at you, his fingers wrapping around your throat. As soon as he touched you he yelped, retracting to cradle his singed hand. “What the fuck did you do!?” He snarled, vein pulsing in his head. You froze entirely, a deer in the headlights. “I... you...” You began, the burning sensation dulling from where his hand had been. Bo grew angrier at your useless mutterings, producing a blade from his pocket to press it against your throat.

“You little...” The weapon clattered to the floor when the realisation hit him. It had been so long since he even thought about soulmates, he forgot they existed. His handprint marred your neck, claiming you as his own. “No, this ain’t right.” He shook his head in denial, backing out of the alley. “FUCK!” His fist collided with brick, busting open his knuckles. This was a cruel trick, probably Lester thinking it was hilarious to try and make him completely lose it. Yeah, that must be it. He had no soulmate. Just him and Vinnie. Bo turned back towards you, each breath racking his shoulders.

“I don’t think this was ideal for me either.” You laughed nervously, keeping stock of the situation. Bo was deathly still. Feeling a little braver, you shuffled towards him. “You’re fake.” He barked defensively. Your heart went out to your soulmate, watching the torment flash across his eyes, every muscle in his body pulled tight, ready to run. You were close enough to feel his breath on your face. Something ethereal tugged at your hands, the appendages moving of their own volition. “Am I?” Without thinking, your fingers wound around his wrists, biting your lip as fire scorched your palms. You expected him to lash out, not let you burn your marks into his skin. The flesh felt mottled under your touch, reforming and melding around your palms. Bo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, suddenly exhausted from his outburst, every bolted down emotion bubbling out of control. You smiled as his chin rested on your head. “Bo.” He muttered into your hair. Bo was terrified, but damn it if he didn’t want to stay like this a little longer.

Vincent

Soulmates were just something that happened. Not to Vincent, but to normal people. He never brought it up, knowing that Bo had bad memories surrounding the concept. He’d had to kick Lester a few times for not shutting up about the pretty girls on the highway. Vincent always hoped he had some chance, but between his deformities and lifestyle it wasn’t really possible. Instead he threw himself into his art, doodling ideas of what his soulmate would look like, staring into the eyes of his sculptures. ‘It could have been you’.

There hadn’t been any reports of people touching their soulmates after they died. It wasn’t really a common occurence after all. Everytime Bo threw him a fresh body, Vincent was always hesitant to touch them. His brother had forgotten, but he hadn’t. As he grew lonelier, Vincent found himself spilling hot wax on himself, relishing the sting, wishing he could feel it on someone else’s skin.

“Vinnie, I got two, give me a hand would ya’?” Bo poked his head around the corner, disturbing Vincent’s concentration. He jerked his head in response. Vincent knew the drill. Bo would go, act charming, lure their prey into the house... so they could recreate Mama’s vision. Waiting patiently, Vincent patrolled his underground cavern, listening for his cue to strike.

You tumbled down the trapdoor, howling when you landed on your leg unnaturally, the sound of bones snapping reverberated off the walls “Please, stop!” Vincent had chased you through the house, dropping down after you. He sighed at the state of your leg; an extra job before he could turn you into a beautiful model. You sobbed pitifully, clutching at your thigh. Vincent lifted you up effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder. You thrashed pointlessly, whimpering as each step sent a jolt of pain down your leg. “Please...” Your back connected with what seemed like a medical bench as the masked man manhandled you as he pleased. You gulped. There was no escape with your injury. Shears glided towards your throat, your shirt falling to ribbons below you. Vincent retrieved a large syringe, splaying his hand on your stomach to steady you.

His skin was on fire. Surely his imagination? Vincent recoiled, eye blowing wide as he saw the perfect indentation of his hand on your belly. It couldn’t be... You gasped at the sensation, propping yourself up to check the mark. “We’re... soulmates?” Vincent stepped back from you, trembling. He didn’t expect it to ever happen. And now that it was... he panicked. You wouldn’t love him, you’d just been fleeing in terror, you’d broken your fucking leg trying to get away from him. Bo wouldn’t let you stay, he didn’t believe in soulmates after all. Maybe he could fix this, salvage it. He had to try.

Vincent dropped the serum on the side, dropping to his knees beside you. If he ever had a reason to be alive, you were it. But what about his face? You would surely be horrified. “I’m sorry” He wheezed, looking down at the floor. Death would surely be preferable to a lifetime with him. “Can I see?” You gestured to his mask, curious to see your soulmates real face. Something pulled you to this place, and yes, being shit scared and breaking your leg wasn’t ideal but damned if you didn’t trust in the soulmate system. There was a reason you two were connected and despite everything, you weren’t going to throw that away.

Vincent hated taking off his mask. Even around Bo. He saw the side glances, the looks of disgust. His twin loved him, but that didn’t make him any less of a freak. But the way you looked at him, your eyes so warm and kind. He sighed, avoiding your gaze as he freed himself from the wax barricade.

He waited for you to scream, to gasp, something that proved how repulsive he was. What he didn’t expect was your palms cupping his cheeks ever so gently, the invisible flames licking at scarred flesh. You whimpered at the burning in your hands, blood running down your chin as your teeth sunk into your lip. Vincent pressed his head against yours, fingers weaving into your hair to lock you against him. You were real. You were his. And he’d never been happier.

Lester

The most optimisitic of all the Sinclair’s, Lester had a bad habit of trying to touch literally everyone. Everything he knew was from magazine’s he’d ransackes from the twins’ victims, considering that Bo wasn’t a believer and Vinnie wasn’t much for conversation.

When he found you trawling the highway, Lester jovially offered you a lift to Ambrose. “Ma brother’s got a phone you can use I bet” He beamed, chatting away as he took you down the beaten path. “What brings you out here then Missy?” You sighed. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant topic and you didn’t really want to bother him with your worries.

“Almost there, d’ya mind givin’ me a hand?” You bent over the hub of the truck, unaware of Lester oogling at your ass. He smirked to himself, trying to subtly brush against you and failing, horribly. “Hey, asshole!” Your hand connected with his face, the crack reverberating through the trees. Your hand turned to fire in your hands, clutching at it pointlessly to try and stifle the pain.

“I was only tryna-“ Lester turned into a puppy when he saw your hand burning, the initial sting of the slap turning into the warm sensation of a soulmate’s mark. “You’re my soulmate!” He jumped on the spot, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “I knew it, I knew I had one!” You groaned underneath him. This was going to be exhausting. “Ma name’s Lester, you gotta come meet ma brother’s Bo and Vinnie-“ He trailed off when he saw you leaning against the car, your arms crossed. “Oh I’m sorry darlin’ I get a bit excited”

“I can see that.” You giggled, running your eyes up and down him. “Why’d I have to get some nasty pervert though?” Lester pouted like a child until he realised you were being sarcastic. “Oh real funny, I was gonna give you the world but I guess I’ll keep it to myself now” Despite the gruff demanour and constant waft of roadkill, you could tell he was an absolute sweetheart. You extended your hand towards him, waggling your fingers. He entwined his hand with yours grunting at the foreign sensation. You pressed a kiss to Lester’s cheek, squeezing his hand. “Now that’s simply not true, is it?”

#bo sinclair #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #soulmate au #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #can you tell im a total simp for bo #he would be SO smug having his mark on your neck #and i’m cracking up at lester having a permenant bitchslap

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spicymayo1983 · 4 years ago

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Hiya. Been in the country housesitting for someone while they are out of state and my fanfiction mind has been working overtime. Lol.

You are a female first order lieutenant that played an important role in the capture of the resistance leader of the black squadron, Captain Poe Dameron.

The man is mentally and physically tough. After enduring hours of torture noone can get him to talk.

You are brought in as a secret weapon because your powers of seduction and persuasion are fairly legendary among the first order. Perhaps even the galaxy. You were fuck buddies with Kylo Ren for awhile but you broke it off.

Commandant Hux is confident in your abilities. But will you have the tables turned? Will you be seduced instead?

Warnings, the usual, sex, smut, some language, light bondage, sadomaschism, language, unprotected sex, just flat out nastiness, torture, some humor. Lol. Under 18? Avert your eyes.

From pain to pleasure

It's really him, you think silently to yourself as you are led into the cold interrogation room by two stormtroopers.

Poe Dameron is strapped into a chair, handcuffed, where he had been since he was captured during the battle of Jakuu.

He has a resolute, cocky look on his face as you walk in, even though he is resistance filth you are taken aback a little by how attractive he is.

His smooth, tan skin, deep brown eyes framed by thick lashes and that curly hair that was just begging to have your fingers run through it just kind of sucked you in.

You may be first order but you are still a red-blooded woman, after all.

Snap out of it! You warn yourself in your head.

You are standing before him, wearing your black uniform of the enemy. You are beautiful in a frightening, intimidating way.

The expression on your face is calm, cool, but angry.

"The other guys couldn't get me to talk what makes you think you are so damn special?" Poe tells you with a little laugh.

"I am not a guy!" You snap back at him, immediately slapping him across his gorgeous face with your full strength, his words offended you.

"It's gender neutral, I call everyone guy, I refuse to assume anyone's gender". Poe replies with a smirk, your hand had left a palm shaped welt on his cheek but he barely flinched.

He is looking you up and down, his eyes feel like they are almost undressing you. "I can see that you are a woman now, wow".

"You think you're so fucking funny". You answer back sharply, the cold look never leaving your eyes. "Tell me where the Droid is and we won't kill you".

You give him another slap across the face and then you shock him with your taser. Poe writhes and moans in pain but remains quiet.

Torturing him is arousing you quite a bit, you are a sadomasochist, a hard hearted dominatrix, your sexual relationship ended with Kylo Ren because of it. You had to be in control and he had to be in control. It just couldn't work. Kylo was even more masochistic than you with so many sick, twisted desires. It was fun while it lasted.

Feeling a mixture of rage, and heat in your lower half you straddle Poe's lap as he is strapped into the interrogation chair, you can tell by the rather large, hard bulge in his pants that he was aroused too.

You shock him in the ribs with your taser again, after Poe is done moaning in pain you slap him hard again for good measure.

You then start to run your fingers through his soft curls and you lean in and nibble on his neck a little, Poe doesn't push you away. Instead he kisses you passionately back.

You are getting worked up and he senses this. Poe decides to exploit your weakness.

"Baby, if you want to make this fun I'll make it worth your time". Poe whispers into your ear. "But you'll need to loosen or remove these cuffs".

"I can't do that but I can do this". You reply as you start to unbutton your jacket, revealing your bare breasts to him.

"First order goes commando? That's interesting knowledge". Poe tells you with a laugh. "The legend herself, I've heard stories about you".

"The legend himself". You reply back, a wicked smile appearing on your face as you slap him again. "I could say the same about you".

"I want to touch those beautiful breasts so badly". Poe whispers to you seductively. "Free me".

You slap him again but you relent, the look in his dark, puppy dog eyes is impossible to resist. You're angry that he has gotten into your head. You have let lust overwhelm you. You just want him to fuck you, now.

You undo the cuffs and instead of making a break for it Poe starts to hungrily touch your breasts, focusing on your rock hard nipples.

He takes one into his mouth and starts sucking, you moan in pleasure and rock in his lap, you are wet, and wanting him badly.

"I want to be inside of you". Poe whispers seductively in your ear.

You slap him hard again and then undo his leg shackles, you free him from the chair and the two of you retreat into the dark recesses of the room together.

You are on the cold, hard floor together, you remove the rest of your uniform and then help Poe out of his.

Lying next to you his hand immediately moves between your legs and he starts exploring every delicate, wet fold with his fingers.

This is different for you because you are letting Poe take control and you aren't getting angry, unlike your encounters with Kylo.

As he gently massages your erect clit he whispers into your ear, "Let me taste you now".

"No, I won't allow it". You answer back sharply.

But your body is telling you otherwise, with a somewhat irritated sigh you roll over on your back and open your legs up to him.

His head instantly moves between your legs, Poe grasps your hips in his hands, lifting you up a little.

You, the badass, dominant, first order officer, have fallen hard for his raw sex appeal.

Deep down you hate yourself for it but you relent to the pleasure as he eats you out unlike anyone has ever been allowed to do before.

Your body feels like jelly and you've already enjoyed several pleasurable climaxes and the man hasn't even fucked you yet.

"Sex doesn't need to hurt to feel good". Poe whispers into your ear as he teases your wet slit with one of his fingers. "I want to make you feel pleasure that you've never known before, something tells me you need it".

"I don't need anything from you!" You bark sharply as you slap him across the face again.

Poe smiles tenderly at you and gently grabs the very hand that just hit him. To your surprise he begins to kiss and suck your fingers.

"I still hate you, you know". You tell him with a bitter laugh as you slap him again, this time in a soft, playful manner. "I wouldn't hesitate to kill you in a second".

"Oh, I can sense it". Poe replies as he starts to gently caress your hand. "That's what makes this so wrong, damn it I have a weakness for bad girls".

The two of you enjoy a long, steamy makeout session, you can taste the blood in his mouth, something that arouses you even more.

You place your legs on his shoulders and Poe slowly, carefully enters you. You cry out in pleasure as his thick organ fills you up and stretches you out.

He fucks you for a good 10 minutes in that position and then rolls you over for more in the classic missionary.

Poe buries his head between your breasts and you run your fingers through his glorious hair. Damn it he's right, you think to yourself bitterly, I did need this.

You feel his cock get harder as he cums inside of you, he moans with delight and closes his eyes as and fills you with his warm seed.

Poe is satisfied with accomplishing something from his X rated bucket list, completely own and creampie a first order officer, female or male.

And as usual, his partner was left satisfied and longing for more.

Unfortunately though, he is still a prisoner of the first order so after the two of you get dressed you shackle him back into the interrogation chair.

You now have a soft spot for him, and you can't stand it.

"This is a formality" You explain as you lock Poe up again. "Someone will be in to see you shortly".

"Why are all the beautiful women so fucking crazy?" Poe quips as you tighten his shackles and handcuffs.

But before you leave you lean down and run your fingers through his hair again and look into his gorgeous eyes one last time.

You hate him for being rebellion scum but you are also hating him for being so good looking.

The end

#poe dameron #poe dameron smut #poe dameron x reader

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randowolfwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Rocking that Solo (Intro)- Hot Dog Dilemma

Just a little one-shot from my self indulgent Older Warners au. Might consider doing more of these if it gets enough interest.

Summary:

A hot dog vendor meets the strangest girl (or puppy) he’s ever seen. Little does he know, she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

She was a weird child. Probably one of the strangest the hot dog vendor had ever seen.

At first, he figured she had really poofy hair tied back with a sparkly heart-shaped hair tie, but then she approached him and saw that it wasn’t hair, but a pair of really large ears. Rabbit ears maybe? Then he noticed that she appeared to be covered in fur, ink-black with the exception of white that covered her entire face with a red nose that looked awfully a lot like a cat’s. When she smiled, he noticed tiny little fangs that made up her canines, and when she stepped back for a bit, he noticed that she wasn’t wearing any shoes—she didn’t need any. Giant white paws were what she walked on all day, much bigger than her front paws that looked more like hands. Then the key indicator of her strange appearance was that she had a tail, a long black one that was hard to determine whether it better belonged on a cat or a monkey. She could have been an animal that just escaped from the zoo had she not been wearing a giant purple sweater with a jean skirt and asking him tons of questions like any girl her age would ask.

Yes, this indeed was the strangest little girl the vendor had ever seen, and yet, this wasn’t the first time she had visited him that day.

“You seem like a pretty cool guy,” She beamed through what appeared to be a Liverpool accent. “I’d love to have your job.”

“What are you doing back here?” The vendor barked. “Didn’t I tell you to get lost?”

“But I know where I am, so how can I get lost?” The girl inferred.

“I told you, I’m not bringing down the price of a dog.”

“But ten dollars is a little much, don’t you think? If I ran a hot dog cart, I would give everyone in the world a hot dog, and then I’d have the rest for myself.”

“Listen, little girl?” The vendor leaned over, trying to size himself up in order to intimidate her. “Are you gonna buy a dog or what? I haven’t got all day.”

Not once did she flinch from the vendor’s harsh demeanor, instead she kept smiling with a glimmer in those dark beady eyes of hers. “Well, I probably won’t since they’re so pricey. I just thought you should know that one of your cart’s wheels is missing.”

“What?”

The vendor tried to examine the wheel from where he leaned, but unfortunately, he couldn't. It was one of the front ones, which led him to move his lazy self to examine it. Clear as afternoon it was missing, despite it was there this morning when he wheeled the cart through the park. He only had a few customers that day, and none had bothered to mess with those wheels. In conclusion, it seemed that not only was this little girl strange, but she was also a wheel thief.

“Alright, where is it?” He grumbled.

“What?” The little girl asked coyly.

“The wheel? What did you do with it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” He could hear his voice raise at the girl’s bewildered expression. “I know you have it!”

“I swear I don’t-- well, I mean I don’t swear because Daddoo says it’s not nice to swear-- but I know I don’t have it. Here, I’ll show you.”

She then reached into the pockets of her skirt and pulled out a bunch of trinkets and trash she had collected over time. “See, I have a bobby pin, two pennies, a piece of lint, a heart sticker…"

As the vendor was preoccupied with the girl, another child appeared behind the hot dog cart. Just like the little girl, he had long ears that drooped like a puppy’s, white fur on his face that covered his black fur like a mask, a red nose, and beady black eyes that made him look more animal than human. The only distinction that he was more human than animal was a green sweatshirt he wore (yet he didn’t wear any pants.) The boy stuck out his tongue nervously as he watched the little girl prattle on to the hot dog vendor about the items in her pockets; it seemed like she had a lot for just two measly pockets.

Seeing that the vendor was distracted, the boy began piling hot dog packs, bratwurst packs, hot dog bun packs, small bags of potato chips, soda cans, anything he could get his paws on and threw them into a random sack that he pulled out of nowhere. Well, more like from behind him. But how he made a sack appear from nothing was really something.

Meanwhile, the girl did everything she could to keep the vendor’s attention on her at all times.

“See, I don’t have it. I only take things that can fit in my pockets,” she explained.

“Fine, so you don’t have it,” the vendor grumbled once more. “But how is it that it hasn’t been missing all day, and then suddenly you show up, and it’s gone?”

“Don’t know. Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

The boy was taking an awfully long time. Every time he grabbed a hot dog packet or a bratwurst packet, his stomach lurched – the thought of eating meat was the bane of his existence.

Suddenly, the mustard bottle slipped out of his paws just as he reached for it, and rolled right in front of the girl and the vendor. To make matters even more awkward, the vendor stepped on the bottle and it squirted a dark yellow onto the pavement.

“Huh? How did that get there…” The vendor turned and finally noticed the boy. The boy let out a startled gasp and shivered where he stood.

“Um, hey! Wanna see me do a dance?” The girl chirped, trying to divert the vendor’s attention back to her. She then performed a couple of twirls seeing if that'd work, but it was too late. The vendor had already noticed the thief at his stand, her partner in crime.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?!” The boy immediately closed the sack and scrambled out of there. “You have to pay for that!”

“Run, Smakko!” The girl cried as she raced after him. As the boy sped off like a frightened hare and the girl caught up to him in seconds, it was clear that the two were related.

Twins.

She was the distraction, and he was what the hot dog vendor should have been looking out for. Now here they were, little dog-monkey rascals that were better off locked up in a zoo than running away with his product.

“When I get my hands on you two, I’ll make sure you’ll get what’s coming to you!” He roared after them.

“But you have to catch us first!” The girl shouted with a giggle.

All through the park, the vendor chased after them. The chase felt like it went on for hours with the kids’ insane energy and the vendor’s determination to get his product back. It wasn’t until the kids ran smack dab into an officer minding his own business that they were finally caught. Immediately upon collision, he grabbed the two kids by the scruff of their clothes and held them up like noisy kittens, mostly pertaining to the girl who kicked in defiance while the boy hung there like a wet rag.

“Are these two giving you any trouble?” The officer spoke in what also appeared to be a deep Liverpool accent. He sounded a little like Ringo Starr. For some reason, upon hearing the officer's voice, the girl settled down.

“You bet! Those mongrels there stole my hot dogs!” The vendor exclaimed, pointing a large index finger at the two.

“Not like you were using it anyway,” The girl spat.

“Those two need to be taken back to the zoo where they belong!”

“No worries, sir. I’ll take care of them,” The large officer said, eyeing each of them with a stern glare. “Now give the man back his dogs.”

The boy then handed the vendor the giant sack. It seemed lighter than what he thought it would be. “Well appreciated, officer,” the vendor thanked.

He gave the vendor a small wave, “No need for thanks. All in a day’s work." Then he gave the kids another stern glare. "Let’s go, pups.”

For some reason, as the officer walked off with the two kids curled in his arms, they seemed too content for having just been apprehended. Well, the boy still had that fearful look in his eyes as if it was stuck that way, but the look on the girl’s face was one that was not expected; she seemed too happy.

The further the vendor walked away from them, the more he realized that the officer himself looked kind of strange. He looked like any other big officer just patrolling the city and keeping the neighborhood peace, yet then he remembered his face...something was off about it. It was pale, almost like it was covered in fur, he had a big red nose, and he had beady black eyes, just like those kids…

Suddenly, he stopped and opened the sack to find that his cart’s product wasn't in there, just a bunch of stuffed rubber dogs that squeaked.

He’d been duped. Those weird kids and that weird officer were all related and they made off with his hot dogs. He wasn’t going to let them get away with it that easily. The vendor ran right up to them, his face red as the ketchup bottles that were just stolen.

“Thieves!” He screamed at them. “Who do you think you are?”

The officer then stopped and set the kids down, “Well, I know for a fact that I’m no Bizzie.”

Suddenly, he tore off the hat to reveal pierced dog-like ears sticking out of a baseball cap that looked like it had been beaten up over the years, especially with that giant bite mark that ate half its bill. Long unkempt black fur-- or it might have been hair-- flowed past his shoulders, while some even jutted out from his hat. Underneath the uniform, he wore a blue sweater covered with a brown leather jacket, torn jeans, and giant white paws that he walked upon just like the two kids. In likeness, this man could have been a rock star had he not had the black and white puppy-dog face like the kids and stuck out his tongue to compliment the look.

“What are you?!” The vendor shuddered in bewilderment. He couldn’t decide whether he was some mutated dog or probably the ugliest man he had ever seen.

“Why he’s my Daddoo, silly!” The girl giggled. “I’m Jojo,” then she pointed towards the boy identical to her, “and this is my brother, Smakko." Then she held out her arms and posed, while her brother seemed hesitant to follow suit. "And we’re the Warner twins!"

“I don’t care if you were the Olsen twins. I demand that you give me back my hot dogs this instant!"

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” the man referred to as ‘Daddoo’ asked, “but that wouldn’t happen to be your cart, is it?”

The vendor then turned to see his hot dog cart speeding right towards them. Without a moment to react, the vendor was hit right with the cart and sent flying down the path while the father and his children moved to the side just in time. Luckily for the vendor, the cart didn’t go right into the busy streets of downtown traffic, but it did crash him into a nearby tree, causing the poor man to see hotdogs flying over his head.

“Look sir, your wheel came back,” Jojo pointed out.

“Yes, I see that,” the vendor said dizzily, then passed out.

“Naughty kids,” the father scolded, “who taught you such awful manners?” Then a giant smile appeared on his face, his tongue sticking out once more.

“Now what do you say to the nice man?”

“Thanks for the hot dogs, sir!” Jojo thanked with a wave.

“Thank you,” The boy named Smakko only muttered.

The hot dog vendor perked up from his short comatose just as the father, with both of his strange puppy kids, the girl clinging to him like a koala and the boy clutching the bag filled with his product, walked away. No doubt about it, this was a horrible day, both personally and economically.

But really, why did it matter? The vendor's cart was surprisingly okay, despite the crash and the strange reappearance of the wheel. Not to mention, there was a lot more product than what the family made off with, but losing those profits was going to hurt him. He'd have to lower the price of those dogs, and bratwursts, and basically everything at his cart just to make up for the stolen product.

He went to authorities about it, but all they did was laugh, except for one, who seemed to shake in his seat at the mere mention of puppy-kids. Like they were going to be any help.

Eventually, the hot dog vendor had to shrug off this brash occurrence and continue with his business. People were still going to want hot dogs, and unfortunately be desperate enough to pay ten bucks for it.

However, this strange moment like a fly in the ear returned to him one day when he was visiting his family. His nieces and nephews were busy watching an old cartoon that he remembered was on when he was a kid called “Animaniacs,” which was considered one of the greatest cartoons of the decade. Of course, he didn’t think much of it now that he was a man in his thirties, but during this particular viewing, there was something that stood out to him.

The three main kids, with those long ears, black-furred with pale white faces, those red noses, and those beady black eyes…they looked exactly like the kids that harassed him at the park. Not to mention, the boy wearing the baseball cap looked exactly like the timid boy who barely spoke a word during their encounter. The boy in the show brimmed with confidence compared to the shy nature of the boy who had the gall to steal his hotdogs, yet had his sister do most of the talking.

Then another thought occurred to him. The father of those two children also wore a blue sweater, and his head was covered with a red cap similar to the boy’s in the show, except his was worn with age. Then there was that smile, that puppy-dog-looking face with his pink tongue sticking out as if to distract from the fact that he was a freak of nature. He also brimmed with tons of confidence. How could anyone go out in public looking the way he did, with that long unkempt hair, those piercings that bit at his ears, and the strange rock star vibe he gave off just by being near him?

No, it couldn't be. But maybe?

Could possibly the middle child, the hungriest, the quietest, and the wackiest of the Warner trio next to his chatty older brother and his sassy younger sister might have grown up into the man he encountered at the park? That strange man with his strange children who were also giant troublemakers like he was. Could possibly the father of those two twins might have been…

Wakko Warner?

#animaniacs #rocking that solo #wakko warner #jojo warner #smakko warner #animaniacs 2020 #older warners au #animaniacs ocs #abbs writings

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