#man this was so much longer than i thought it would be

[nemesyaaa]

sweet babyface // toxic!bbydaddy!rafe x reader

summary ; rafe was decided to make your little one, a kook princess. and if it means to spend a million of dollars on a diamond swarovski tiara just to see it on the head of his daughter, you can be sure he's gonna do it.

warnings ; basically fluff but i would add +18 bc of a little bit of suggestive content but not real smut. mention of breeding kink. kind of toxic relationship. a bit of stalking. financial dependence. be aware of the warnings.

author's note ; i just wanted to mention @princessbrunette for the bbydaddy!rafe verse. you can check it on her account <3

even if you tried every time to keep him away, push him away, avoid him or chase him, rafe always came back. you could be cold, distant, suspicious and even cruel, he didn't care. by the way, he was better than you at that game anyway? it wasn’t for nothing that you always lost trying to fight him. he was winning while you were just exhausting yourself out. sometimes you wonder why you let him into your life, why you thought it would be a good idea to have a baby with him when everyone on the island told you he was unstable and uncontrollable. some even laughed at your situation, saying it was like giving something to the devil and hoping he doesn't use it against you.

you couldn't say rafe was a bad father. your daughter had always been outrageously spoiled. he always gave her the biggest and greatest gifts. nothing was ever good enough for his princess. he always thought big when it came to his baby. even if you were a pogue, he wanted to raise her as a fucking kook.

and sometimes you wondered if he did all this out of pure fatherly love or out of narcissism or ego.even if you hated him so much, he absolutely needed to make sure your child was on his side. every time he was there, it was like you no longer existed. the house was full of "dad," "daddy, “ or “ papa, " and babbling and laughing. it was always his name, she never called you. and you always felt a pang in your heart every time he grabbed her in his big veiny arms, making her the happiest little girl before taking her away from you to go on some weekly trips.

even when he was not at home, it was always with the toys he gave her that she played, the dresses he gave her that she wore, the hairstyles that he validated by facetime that she asked you to make, the meals he delivered that she wanted to eat. she was truly daddy’s girl. even in her facial features.

so no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he was still there somehow . through the demands of your daughter, the hundreds of deliveries a day to your door, the objects in this house and even its walls because he was obviously the one who paid for it.

you didn't need to work. you had access to all his cards. at first you spent tons of money on unnecessary expenses hoping it would drive him crazy but the next day you saw that even more money had been added to the bank account.

but rafe cameron didn't give you access to his banking data out of pure kindness and affection alone. he was also looking for a way to control you, and stay in your life. then, with that, he could also stalk you and do inappropriate things like when you bought lingerie and he received the bill. he couldn't stop himself from sending you a message. “don't want to see me, but you dress yourself like you want me to give you a second baby ;) ”

the only rule was that you were forbidden from going to see another man and even less from inviting him to the house. he manipulated you by saying it was for your daughter's mental balance but it was purely out of jealousy. and you knew it very well. you weren't the stupid naive girl he had gaslighted in the past and who he could lie to so easily anymore.

one day, you were giving your kid the extremely expensive cupcakes rafe had bought for her breakfast, trying not to comment on the ridiculousness of the prices but especially the situation, and there was a knock at the door. when you saw through the blinder that it was him, you stepped back discreetly, swallowing hard to not clench. your heart was beating fast in your ribcage as you were trying to silence your stepfoots.

“I know you're here.” you had heard his loud firm raspy voice through the door. “baby, i can hear you breathing and backing up from here. come on, i thought we both get over the time i scared you. ”

he continued to knock on the door until your old neighbor called you claiming that a crazy madman was in front of your house and didn't want to leave.

you had been forced to open up to him which made you even angrier.

but that didn’t stop him from smiling at you, the insatiable white colgate smile. his clean and fresh mullet was long enough that hair brushed the back of his neck. he was wearing one of his perfect black suits with the sleeves rolled up to show a glimpse of his nice shirt. a Rolex was tight around his veiny wrist, and the same rings he always wore were wrapped around his fingers.

he had his ear pierced recently with your daughter. you had been against it, but she still wanted to do like her father so you had no authority over the sweet monster. but you had to admit that the jewelry suited them both so well. especially on rafe, you couldn't help but think about kissing his ear, but especially biting his earlobe while caressing the silver piercing until it's wet and rolling against your tongue. all this perhaps while thinking of having a baby again.

“I should be allowed to come here whenever I want. " he had sworn under his breath, staring at you with his evil blue eyes.

“tell me what you have to say or I’ll call the police.” you replied shortly.

"I want to see my girl. I mean, the one who likes to call me daddy. "

“It’s not funny and she doesn’t want to…”

you hadn't had time to finish speaking before your babyface's little footsteps were running on the floor to come into the hall.

“daddy! " she exclaimed before being carried off the ground to snuggle into her father's strong arms, her little frame being hidden by the size of his biceps.

“that's my little girl.” he welcomed her with a kiss on the cheek, making her chuckle.

"I missed you! please, stay !" your kid had asked with bubbly face and pleading eyes, her childish pout so irresistible to say no.

“of course, I’m staying.”

“raf…” you started but he ignored you, walking in the house without your permission into the living room.

“I have something for you, peaches. ”

he took a present out of his bag and you rolled your eyes. you already knew it was going to be something crazy like the giant dollhouse he built in her bedroom, or the huge dinette in the playroom, or a scary tall comfort teddy bear that she couldn't even carry in her tiny hands. sometimes you wondered what he could offer to her because she already had everything. he had literally built her a heaven.

your daughter's eyes widened in surprise, while a smile floated across her lips in excitement. she opened the gift and took out a silver tiara set with diamonds and stunning crystals signed by Swarovski.

“she’s a baby, rafe…” you commented.

"no, she's a princess. " he corrected you and fixed your little one's hair before putting the tiara on her head, and placing a smack on her forehead. “ don't you see that kook babyface ? ”

she giggled before wrapping her hands around his neck to thank him.

“we need to talk.” you said.

"later. i have a princess to honor for now."

you wanted to fight back and kill him but you couldn't resist your daughter's face. she was happy to be with her father. and you knew it was important for girls to establish a strong bond with their father. and there was this bright spark that shone in her eyes every time she saw him that made you melt.

so you let him stay at home. he stayed with her all day. she managed to make him do whatever she wanted, and that's how he found himself playing with dolls, watching the princess and the frog, doing karaoke to barbie songs, serving as a client for a makeup session, and judging all of her princess dresses while she was making him a haul.

No matter how angry you were that he showed up like that and decided to stay, you couldn't deny the fact that he was damn good, that in the moment, you couldn't find any reason not to like him, even when he caught you spying on them and sent you a smirk to remember that you had no control.

you had decided to do some cleaning, to leave them both for a bit until the end of the day. after a long moment, rafe decided to leave her alone for a bit.

you were downstairs, and you were making food. he raised an eyebrow when he saw you. “don’t forget me.”

“no I’m sorry, I’m cooking for two and you’re not included in it.”

“I was included in this pussy to make you a baby so you can include me in this meal for one night, baby. ‘s nothing. ” he shouted back, chewing some gum arrogantly.

“don’t be trashy.”

"you used to like this..." he carefully said, because he knew he was treading on sensitive ground.

he stood in front of you, picking a taste of the ranch sauce from the bowl before putting it in his mouth. you watched him do it, glaring at the smile on his so fucking evil lickable lips.

“ taste's good. ”

“I want you to leave. “

"We should ask every part of your body if they're okay with this. Maybe it would put you back into your place to feel betrayed by your own self. "

“You’re not good for her.” you confessed.

“I am her father. And from what i know, she's very happy with me. You're the one to have a problem with my presence here. ”

"Please, leave the house. I don't want to call the police."

“exactly, baby.” he moved to stand behind you, rearranging a strand of your hair, his breath hot on the back of your neck. “you don’t want to do it. And you're not forced to do it…” he caressed your hand, slowly putting the knife away from your fingers.

“Step back.”

"I want to stay here tonight. Just this night. She really wants me to stay and would it be cruel to make her sad? You don't want to be the villain, right ? "

“don’t try to manipulate me.”

" mmh, just telling the truth and it makes you mad. you can hate me if you want but she needs me. i'm her dad and you know if I wanted to, I could make her come with me but I love seeing you together. you're a great mom.”

"you will sleep on the couch. and that is non-negotiable. you don't try anything with me, is that okay?"

“Come on, we can sleep together. We are mature and consenting adults.” he replied. "There's nothing I haven't seen before, baby. I know all that lingerie as well as that body hidden behind it."

“about that, stop stalking my bills.”

"Mine , baby. you mean, my bills. these are my cards that you use for your pleasures so I have the right to have an eye on them. even more so when I receive bills for sex toys. you should call me instead of handling it? yourself.”

"After trying them, I'm not sure that you're big enough now. “

jesus, you knew how to provoke him and it worked. he had sniffed the air loudly, trying to contain himself because honestly, he only wanted one thing at the moment, a strong urge that was to fuck you dirty on that counter until he was sure to see your hole tearing to death and dripping to get his cock in. jesus, yeah, he would give anything to see you grimace because it will never fit in but prove you wrong by giving you a second baby.

his jaw was tense and his nostrils were flared. he was forced to clench his fist to avoid touching you. " the day when your babygirl will want a little sister or brother, you better be begging on all fours on my fucking doorstep to convince me to give you another baby. so better to start now and stretch that hole very hard before it's happening because i'm gonna make sure to be breeding you enough to change your whole dna. ”

“ aren't you tired of thr…”

“mom, dad, what are you talking about?” the little girl burst into the kitchen, still with her tiara on her head. a smile appeared when she saw that her dad was still there. because it was rare for him to stay that late.

you warned rafe with your eyes, slashing violently at pieces of vegetables with the knife back in your hand.

“ we were thinking that i could stay tonight. what's your thoughts on this, little one ? want daddy to stay ? ”

“ yes ! i don't want you to leave. stay foreveeeer with me. ”

“ but you know, he can't. he's a businessman. ” you replied.

“ what do you mean, baby ? my only business is right here. ”

” Rafe. ” you said.

“ Baby ? ” he replied with a cocky smile. “ Why don't you tell us what you're cooking ? Seems delicious. Maybe we could get a taste. ”

“ Sweetie, can you go to your room for a second ? I need to talk with your dad. It's not gonna be long. ”

She pouted but agreed after Rafe promised her something if she was listening to her mom.

“you know you can’t stay. "

"All I know is that there is my name in the papers of this house, on your bills, and even on your documents. If I can't stay, you can't escape. So what's better ? ”

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Omega Knight

Male Alpha Dragon-Hybrid x Male Omega Reader CW: Noncon, stalking, reader fucked into the mud, reader fucked so hard he pisses himself, overstimulation, emotional manipulation, stockholm syndrome, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, mating cycles/heat, two-dicked dragon-man, double penetration, knotting, biting, claiming bites, combat, medieval dystopia with shitty gender roles, praise kink Word Count: 4.9k (This is a comm for somone wishing to remain anonymous. I hope everyone enjoys it. I made it much longer than it was supposed to be.)

In a time defined by the prominence of magic, the might of kings, the power of knights, and discriminatory sex and gender views, it was extremely difficult to be an omega. They were commonly looked upon as sex objects, incubators, and the property of whoever they ended up forced to marry. Male omegas, given their rarity, were treated as particularly fragile trophies.

You were one such male omega. Not wanting their only son to be looked down upon as someone’s property or prize, your parents raised you as an alpha. They were not the highest house of nobles, but they were still very wealthy. They used their connections and power to get you the very best magically enhanced suppressants and fake alpha scent.

With a combination of careful planning, staying as far from others as you could, and suppressants you manage to become one of the knights of the realm. Despite your smaller stature, everyone thought you were an alpha given your fake scent, dedication, and skill. It took a lot of effort to push your omega body so hard, but you persevered, not willing to besmirch the honor of your house through failure. Your father helped train you, and you paid for your station with sweat and bruises.

Once you became a knight you were one of the very few who worked alone. Knights were responsible for defending the country from the more dangerous bandits and the ever present threat of highly dangerous monstrosities. As such they typically worked in groups and went on missions that could take days to weeks. But you couldn’t risk getting caught applying suppressants and fake scent while out on the road. This required you to be better trained and more skilled than anyone else could hope to be.

The result was that you were quick and lethal on every single mission, quickly racking up kills. You started out by being sent to take down bandits, as every new knight is. But that isn’t what you stayed doing for very long.

You quickly graduated to the occasional ghoul or wandering undead, though these were little more than slow moving beasts. Honestly, rarely as dangerous as a bandit.

From there you went on to put tougher foes in the ground. Chimeras, gargoyles, and the like. They were still feral but they were much more cunning and moved without the stiffness that plagued the undead.

Finally you were regularly slaying werewolves and vampires. Considered to be the deadliest of foes. The king himself had assigned you some of your tasks and awarded you medals for your courage and skill. You became renowned across the land, your name muttered far and wide for your impressive service. Though, as always, you never lingered after receiving praise or rewards. To be discovered at this point would mean enduring certain… consequences…

One day you were summoned to meet the king privately. As you passed the guards and presented your summons you weren’t nervous at all, you assumed that there was a threat to the kingdom that only you could be trusted to resolve. Probably one that was a bit too discreet to share via messenger. Something that could cause embarrassment or panic.

Your assumption was dead wrong.

When you reached the king on his throne you saw he was accompanied by one of the princes, the one who was around your age and also an omega. Prince Orleias stared at you eagerly. It was rather unnerving, though not something that was entirely foreign to you. There were many omegas that looked at you like that.

“Ah, there you are, prompt as always.”

You gave a smile and curt nod at his praise.

“Of course your grace, I would never keep you waiting.”

“I have something very important to discuss with you. You are a well decorated knight of this land and have saved hundreds of lives, if not more. You are also high born and the heir to your house name.”

He paused and looked at you and then back to his son for a moment.

“I am giving you my son’s hand in marriage. He wholeheartedly agrees.”

At this Prince Orleias crept towards you and clung to your arm, looking at you with unfettered admiration. Uh-oh.

You didn’t know what to do, if you declined it would surely enrage the king and possibly bring his ire down upon your entire family. He was not known to be an angry man, but he took note of traditions and honor as most in this society did. He wouldn’t behead you, but it would be highly offensive.

On the other hand, if you accepted, then your secret would be found out. And that deception would be received very poorly indeed.

Luckily, as if the very gods were interjecting on your behalf, a messenger came scurrying into the room to interrupt.

“Sire! Sire!”

“What’s the meaning of this intrusion!? I am discussing a very important personal matter with our top warrior here!”

“Yes sire! I beg your apologies! But we have reports of a dragon terrorizing the small town of Umbrafell!”

Your head was immediately filled with images of villages fleeing in terror as a flying beast rained down fire and fury down from above. You had to help, no one else had as good of a chance to defeat such a creature! This was also your opening to remove yourself from accepting the proposal… or at the very least buy yourself some time to think of a more permanent solution… You extricated yourself out of the clingy grip of the amorous prince.

“My king! I will go at once! It is one of the mightiest beasts in all of the world and I have the best chance to defeat it!”

You quickly dashed from the room and out of the castle and made your way home to don your armor and set out on your newly acquired quest before the king could object, not that he would have. You were obviously the best choice for the job.

Once you had your weapon, armor, and pack of supplies you set out at once on one of the knight’s horses. As grateful as you were from the reprieve that the situation had afforded you, it was still a very serious situation with the lives of many potentially in danger. You had never even fought a dragon before and it was not a fight to be taken lightly. You couldn’t even recall if any living knight had ever encountered one.

The best plan was to talk to the locals once you got to the town and ask them what exactly they had seen of the beat, find out its size, age, speed, and elemental attributes. It was probably a fire dragon, that was the most common from the old tales and songs.

The town of Umbrafell was on the southern outskirts of the kingdom. It would be a journey of a few days to get there.

You continued on at a steady pace that wasn’t too demanding of the horse but still gave you good progress on your journey. You had to stop and camp a couple nights, and stop when necessary to eat and allow your mount to rest and get hydrated, but the weather was pleasant and you made remarkable time. You arrived in Umbrafell late in the morning on the third day of your quest.

The questioning of several of the locals had you believing that the dragon was a giant beast that descended upon the villagers and their livestock, devastating entire flocks and burning to cinders entire fields. Definitely an adult dragon of fire.

The question was how would you fell such a creature? Charging in blindly was not an option. You decided drugging would be the best option. But you didn’t even know if dragons were susceptible to such things. And even if they were it probably would be far too clever to take any form of drugged bait. No, the course of action most likely to end without your smoldering corpse was to find the lair, stake it out, and wait for it to sleep before attacking.

The locals pointed you in the direction the dragon came from. A thick forested area with many hills and slopes. Not the best area to take a horse. You left your mount at the local livery stable, you paid well and knew the knightly steed would be well looked after.

You trekked through the forest for several hours, there was no telling exactly where the dragon had set up its den and you only had a general direction to search in. Whatever lodgings the dragon had found or made for itself had to be massive so you were sure that you’d know it when you came across it.

As you continued your search you cursed your omega biology. Something you did frequently. You felt a familiar tingle in your belly that was unmistakable. Your body was getting ready to enter heat. Even with magic suppressants there was just no way to completely avoid a heat. Or to hide one if someone got too close to you during one. The best modern magical marvels could do was shorten one and make it less intense.

Another reason you’d have to avoid marrying the prince. But that was something you could worry about at a later time, it would do you no good to have your mind head elsewhere while trying to locate and kill a dragon.

Little did you know that the dragon had already located you, long before you had entered its territory. The only warning you had was the swoosh of wings as he descended upon you. Your reaction was fast though and you managed to block the strike of his sharp claws with your blade. What the hell? He wasn’t a giant dragon… he was a half-breed… A race of dragon-human hybrids originally created with a magical blood pact between ancient dragons and wizards. The locals let their fear overtake them and greatly exaggerated the threat.

That didn’t mean you could take him lightly, dragon hybrids were known to be powerful and swift. Well they were rumored to be, at least. They were even less common than dragons.

A more ferocious foe you had never encountered, clawing and slashing at you with grace and brutality. The scales on his hands and arms allowed him to strike your blade with no weapon other than his relatively short claws. They were black and shimmered with each movement. They covered his well muscled arms, legs, and framed his face. To get a good strike on him you’d have to hit his face or chest.

Easier said than done. He was nearly 7ft. tall and exceptionally strong. He wasn’t making this simple for you. What was worse than that though were his mounting pheromones. As the battle went on he sweated more and more, and with no clothing other than a barbarian style fur loincloth it was easy to smell him. The musk of a normal human alpha was something you had long since learned to ignore as if it was damn near nothing, but this wasn’t like that at all. It was making you a little dizzy.

“You should just give up omega.”

His sensitive nose could pierce through your false scent. You shook your head and redoubled your focus and determination. You stared right into his fiery red eyes as you deflected a harrowing blow before tackling him with your metal clad body, opening him up to an additional attack. You slashed into his torso, causing him to recoil in pain. You pressed the advantage and stabbed him in the abdomen.

The dragon almost sliced you to ribbons before you could withdraw your weapon from him. Were he a regular man he would likely be on the ground bleeding out by now, but he was no regular man and roared as he began attacking you wildly.

Every strike was either dodged, deflected, or uselessly glanced off your armor. You got a few more solid strikes in, one on his bicep above where the scales started and another across the chest. He was breathing harder.

But for some reason so were you.

“Y-you should just give up alpha,” you sneered mocking what he had said to you earlier. Though it sounded a lot less intimidating than you had intended.

You started shaking and had to kneel down, leaning on your sword in the dirt. Pain in your stomach, a biological demand, slick rolling down your thighs beneath your armor. You were burning up. His pheromones hung thickly in the air, they had brought forth your heat much faster and harder than you had ever experienced before, completely negating any effect of the suppressants in your body.

All your experience and combat skill and taken down by a dragon’s musk and your own omega biology? It was a disgrace.

Now given the proper time to recover he used healing magic on his wounds. Combined with his already naturally enhanced healing abilities this resulted in him having only faint scars where he was previously injured. “Aww, all helpless because of your little heat darling~”

He sauntered over to you and looked down with a smug expression.

“Sorry for getting the drop on you, but you would have gotten it on me had you found me first. Anyway… now that you are a bit less feisty I think we can do a proper introduction now can’t we?”

Your heat was so strong now that you could barely focus on breathing evenly as you tried to stumble away. There was no way you could find the words to respond.

“I am Ivos, your mate. Don’t worry, I already know your name and everything about you.”

He pushed you down to your knees and kicked away your sword. At this distance his pheromones demanded your attention. He removed your helmet and started prying your armor apart plate by plate, totally scrapping the armor that had been so important to you. Soon you were in nothing but your regular clothes and then not even those as he sliced them up with his claws.

Now you were completely naked before him. The smell of his arousal was palpable. You glanced up towards him and noticed two large bulges poking out in his loincloth. He put his hand on your cheek and rubbed it with a scaled thumb. All it took was that touch for the last of your resolve to melt.

“I have been waiting for this for so long, have been following you for over a year now. Came across you taking down a horde of undead. Then watched you fight battle after battle. Scared the town because I knew it would draw you out. So strong. The only mate worthy of me. But an omega still shouldn’t be forced to live like an alpha.”

All you could do was whimper in need.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait any longer. Couldn’t hold out if I tried.”

Ivos pulled off his loincloth and revealed two large slimy cocks, proud and erect, protruding from his genital slit. He sat down right on the ground then pulled you into his lap, he grinded his dicks against your hole then stretched it with a couple fingers before lifting you up and slamming you down. Both of his cocks firmly impaled your weeping hole. You gasped in pleasure. You had never put anything inside of you to relieve your heats, you thought giving into your omega nature would be like giving in to something you shouldn’t.

He grinded slowly into you, back and forth, making you drool as you leaned against him weakly. He teased your neck with his long tongue, swirling and lapping at your sensitive gland there. Your toes flexed and writhed as he did so. This felt so good. So so good. This is where you wanted to be for the rest of eternity, on his lap skewered on both of his cocks while inhaling his smell.

The dragon wanted to take your bliss to a higher level though, he increased the speed of his thrusts into you while carefully stroking your cock with the hand he wasn’t using to caress your back. He kept at it for a while, gradually increasing the pace as he went. You came hard, panting and shaking as your seed coated his abdomen.

Over the course of the next two hours you were entirely at the mercy of his sexual desire, too overstimulated to do anything other than twitch in pleasure and drool as he broke your brain with orgasm after orgasm. You gasped as he came inside you, stretching your virgin hole to its absolute limit with not one but two girthy knots. He did what came to him instinctively, biting your neck and claiming you as his with a mark. The stimulation was so extreme you not only emptied your balls once more but also your bladder, piss getting all over the both of you.

Ivos didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact he seemed pretty pleased with having fucked you so completely that you lost control of your entire body. He licked the bite mark he had branded you with free of blood before picking you up and flying to his lair, knots still firmly inside you. He took your sword with him, figuring the blade you had come so far with may be of sentimental value to you, but he left the destroyed armor and his loincloth.

Ivos held you as tightly as he could, the cold air returning you to your senses and making you very uncomfortable. When his cocks slipped out of you and retracted back into him gobs of cum dripped out onto the forest below. He smirked at how strongly you clung to him. It wasn’t like you wanted to, but you were terrified at being up so high. You certainly wouldn’t struggle when it could mean your death if you fell.

Your new lover had made his residence in a relatively small tower abandoned beyond the hills. By the time you got there you were so sore and tired from holding on so tight, and the brutal fucking you had endured earlier, that you were in no condition to rebel. You were so obedient when he cleaned you up and fed you. It made his heart flutter, his strong mate being so good for him.

“Such a good boy~”

A grunt of defiance was all you could muster in the way of a rebellious response.

Ivos would quickly learn that you would not be staying so well behaved. You fought him at every opportunity. And he fucked you back into compliance every time he needed to. It took a long while but at least you stopped struggling at the sex. It actually felt quite amazing. And afterwards you were always so good for him.

Even so, while he admired your rebellious spirit, he wanted you to like him all the time. Not just when you were drowning in his pheromones and bouncing on his knots. He caught you the best food, took care of all your needs, brought you trinkets and gifts that would have otherwise gone to his hoard. Sometimes it seemed like you resented these gestures, you were trying so hard to not be a typical omega, and he supposed you really weren’t to some extent.

He had an idea of what to do to get you to enjoy his company more, though he could tell you were planning an escape soon. Your scent was one of someone on edge. Someone deceptive. Luckily you had no idea he could smell such a thing.

The hybrid wanted to start taking you out to hunt with him, maybe even fight some monsters. He had come to the conclusion that maybe you weren’t entirely forced to act like an alpha, maybe you enjoyed some aspects of it and he needed to ease back a bit on catering to you as if you were a princess.

But he had to get you to give up hope of escape before he could trust you going on long outings, not to mention letting you wield lethal weaponry… he didn’t even let you have access to your sword...

Ivos was spot on about you trying to get away. You had spent a couple weeks with him and were constantly thinking about potential plans for getting away. You were also studying his behaviors. Testing how deep a sleeper he was, for example. You weren’t just going to bolt at the first chance. It had to be calculated.

To make your move, you needed a rainy day. The sound of the rain would help hide the sounds of your escape. Of course, you realized that even if your armor hadn't been reduced to scrap, you still would have had to abandon it whenever you made your bid for freedom. The pang of water on metal would give you away along with the weight adding to your footprints and slowing you down. You mourned its loss, not for the first time.

You also needed rain to help mask your scent from that damned sensitive dragon nose of his.

It was grueling. Having to wait for the perfect weather when you had no idea when it would finally rain. Having to act good and behave. Keep your head down and bear the sexual and romantic harassment that were damn near unrelenting. And those damnable pheromones of his. But finally, you had what you so desperately wanted.

A glorious downpour. You couldn't ask for a better chance at escape. Dark clouds late at night. Loud booming crashes of thunder. Pounding rain that would soak you in seconds. You just prayed that it would be enough to wash away your pheromones without your suppressants.

As stealthily as you could, you made your way down the tower and slunk out into the concealment of the storm. The only thing you brought with you were the clothes on your back and your sword for protection from whatever may dwell in the night. Unknown to you, Ivos had let it “fall” from the high place where he had mounted it. Didn’t want you to get hurt by something during your escape attempt.

Once you had traversed the nearby hills and then the forest, you'd be near the village he had terrorized to bait you and could get your horse there.

But one thing at a time, you still had to clear the sloping terrain and trees before you could worry about that. You went as fast as you could go without slipping in the mud or splashing through puddles, but it was going to be a long journey.

Ivos had been asleep when you crept out, or so you thought, but you couldn't be sure how long he would remain that way.

As you continued on through the rain filled night, you began to feel gradually more confident and hopeful about your freedom. You were going to make it. You had been worried if you had been able to maintain the correct course given the darkness and disorienting thunder, but after hours of hiking there it was, the edge of the forest. And when lightning flashed, you could see the town in the distance.

You were so close! You increased your pace, spurred on by the promise of successful liberation. Then, beneath the constant patter of rain, you could have sworn you heard the swoosh of wings. Probably the wind rushing through the tre-

The next thing you knew, you were on your stomach, pushed into the mud. Your sword kicked away uselessly. Your hope was shattered. You struggled, but you might as well have been a mewling kitten.

"If you wanted to play cat and mouse, darling, all you had to do was ask."

You clambered to get away, clawing at the wet ground, as he pulled you back towards him and slashed away all your clothes before sighing laboriously.

"You had been behaving so well too... I guess I'm going to have to give you a little attitude adjustment..."

Both of his large cocks protruded at full length from his genital slit. The rain had quickly faded to a light sprinkle, and the smell of his musk had quickly grown overwhelming. The smell of his desire rolled off of him and quickly had you once more slicked up against your will.

"There's a good boy~"

Your hole twitched around his fingers as he teased you by slipping them inside. You struggled to contain a whimper as you grinded your ass against his fingers.

"Beg for it."

You tried to resist, but his scent and touch had completely taken over your brain. You didn't even have a heat to blame it on this time, and he wasn't in rough. Just his aroused musk could reduce you to a throbbing ball of need.

"Pl-please just... do it already..."

You were glad the darkness of night and the grime that clung to you covered the shame on your face.

"Good enough."

He smoothly slipped both slimy cocks right on into you.

"Damn, that's gooood."

Once more, his twin pricks pounded into you at an increasing pace, filling you far better than any one-cocked human alpha could ever hope to.

Ivos smirked at your wanton moans. They were like candy for his ears. Proof that if you ever got too far out of line he could just fuck you back into obedience. With your armor and blade, you may have been a skilled combatant, but what did it matter when he could make you so helpless?

He kept right on railing you into the mud. His cocks filled you to the brim with cum as he renewed his claiming bite on your neck. You shuddered and came as he knotted you up, the girth of both knots firmly adhering the two of you together.

But he was far from done with your little "lesson." He didn't stop until both of you had come several times, and you lay beneath him trembling and barely conscious.

When his knots went down and his cocks slipped out cum splooged out all over your ass, thighs, and legs. You were covered in mud. Calling you a mess was a serious understatement. Though you were in no state of mind to care.

"Aaaah, that was great~"

The dragon picked you up bridal style and flew the two of you back home. He ran you a bath and cleaned you of all the mud, sweat, and cum.

The next thing you knew, you were in bed with his arms wrapped firmly around you. As the events from last night came back to you, you silently cursed yourself for having been taken so easily.

It became a new pattern in your defiance of him. One carefully curated by Ivos. You'd run off and, just as you were about to escape the forest, he'd swoop right in and fuck you damn near senseless. Then he'd take you back, and you'd wake up clean and in his arms.

You tried in various weather conditions, times of day, you tried fighting, you tried plugging your nose to shield against his scent, but no matter what you did it played out exactly the same.

The final time you had ever tried to escape went much like all the others, up until you neared the tree line. You paused, eyeing the divide between the forest and grassland that would lead you down into Umberfell.

Though you could not see him, Ivos was watching you intently, ready to pounce upon you at the last possible moment. A growing sense of unease gripped you. You even started shaking. No no. You couldn't go forward... Ivos would have you on the ground and fuck you into the dirt... It was all pointless.

You turned and ran back to the dragon's tower.

Ivos smiled brightly from his hidden position in the trees. Your training was complete, you knew what would happen if you tried to do something silly like running off. Now he could, at long last, execute his idea.

It did take much longer than Ivos would have liked, but the alpha was patient and ultimately he had gotten the results he wanted. Taking you out to hunt, letting you prepare and cook your own meat half the time, taking you out for some good old fashion monster slaying, not doting on you too much outside of your heats while at the same time tending to your biological needs by supplying you with all the dick and musk you could want, had gradually made you happily in love with him.

It was much better than your old life, you came to realize that. Being allowed to do things that alphas typically did and no longer having to repress your scent and omega instincts was liberating.

What’s more, you no longer had such weighty responsibilities. The burden of the kingdom’s safety, a kingdom that would have shunned you had they known your secret, was an immense weight to shoulder. And if you had made it back what would have happened anyway? Be a hermit forced to live alone as an alpha for the rest of your life? Thrown into a life of dishonor for refusing the king’s request that you marry his son? No matter what, you would have been miserable.

Ivos had actually freed you, and you loved him deeply.

[lushrue]

dinner party (nsfw)

ghoap x fem!reader

cw: oral (m and f receiving), dubcon (sort of?), voyeurism, dom ghost

it was supposed to be a normal dinner party.

by all accounts, it had been up to this point. it wasn’t unusual for your husband to invite the men he worked with over for dinner, especially johnny. the man lives alone, he’d said, least I can do is give ‘em a nice home-cooked meal every once in a while. you always pulled out the stops, cooking something bordering on gourmet that the mess halls couldn’t even hope to replicate. tonight, it had been grilled salmon with wild rice and roasted asparagus.

conversation over dinner was normal, aided by the wine and whiskey loosening everyone’s lips. you’re far more sociable than simon is, but that doesn't take much, so the alcohol kept the words flowing freely. it wasn’t until after dinner that things started to shift.

the three of you settled in the living room with your respective spirits, wrapping up the night with friendly conversation over light dessert. you moved to your usual spot in the armchair beside the bookshelf, but the sound of simon clicking his tongue at you stopped you in your tracks. he was sat in his own chair nearest the sofa, legs spread like a king on his throne. you couldn’t quite keep your eyes from wandering, admiring the way his jeans clung to his thighs. he met your gaze, the corner of his lips quirked up in a mischievous smirk. he patted his thigh and you felt embarrassment burn your cheeks.

you glanced over to johnny, as if to remind simon that you had company, but he didn’t seem to care. his dark eyes stayed fixed on you, silence falling over the room as johnny’s gaze followed his lieutenant’s. simon cocked his head, a gesture that you recognized as obey or else. you didn’t feel like testing the waters tonight, so you padded over to him, perching yourself on his thigh.

your husband’s arm snaked around your waist as you swirled your wine in your glass, staring at the whirlpool it created to distract you from the way johnny was eyeing you. simon had pulled you onto his lap for a reason, and part of you wondered if it wasn’t entirely selfish motivation that had you positioned here. simon’s hand stroked over the crushed velvet of the dress he’d insisted you wear, sliding down to grip your ass occasionally when you got too fidgety.

conversation gradually turned to their work, so you tuned them out. it wasn’t that you weren’t interested; most of it just flew over your head. it gave you time to focus on the way your husband was feeling you up. his hand never stayed in one place too long, sliding from your shoulder to your spine to the nape of your neck and down. it made shivers run down your spine, goosebumps rising on your arms and legs the longer it continued. despite your squirming, you managed to stay ladylike, a metaphorical aspirin between your knees as the two men talked.

“so, how’s y’r sex life?” simon asked, which snapped you back to attention. johnny seemed just as bewildered as you did at the question, his cheeks flushed scarlet beneath the stubble. you nudged simon’s shoulder, shaking your head at him. “simon, that’s not polite,” you said, but he didn’t pay you any mind. he was too busy watching johnny fluster and scramble to find his words. “l.t., I-” he started, but simon held up a hand to stop him. “nah, don’ play dumb with me, lad. heard ya jus’ the other day in the rec room. talkin’ about how ya haven’t had a good shag in months, somethin’ like tha’.”

you were just as embarrassed as johnny was now. you knew simon wasn’t the most tactful of men, but this was a whole other level. johnny stuttered around his words, trying to find some kind of reply that was appropriate for the situation. nothing would be appropriate for this situation, you thought. simon just chuckled, his hand rubbing the plush cheek of your ass. “look how flustered ‘e is, lovie,” he said to you, finally giving you his full attention. “poor man, doesn’ have a good bird like I do. no one to cook ‘im a nice dinner and keep ‘is cock wet.”

as flustered as you were, the words sent a jolt straight to your core. taking care of your husband was a sense of pride for you. you got a primal satisfaction out of sinking to your knees and sucking him dry after he’d had a hard day. it meant the world to you when his shoulders sagged and released the burden that he’d been carrying, all at your hands. you shifted on his lap, pressing your thighs together to get some relieving friction.

simon looked back at johnny, who seemed just as affected. he had his hands clasped over his lap, his gaze cast down at the throw rug like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “ya wanna know wha’ it’s like, sergeant?” simon asked, his voice dropping into a register only you got to hear. “wanna feel my sweet, pretty dove wrapped aroun’ ya?” johnny jolted like he’d been shocked with a prod, wide blue eyes looking up at his commanding officer. there was bewilderment there, you noticed. clearly, he hadn’t been expecting this. but behind the surprise, there was something more carnal. he looked hungry, like a mutt begging for scraps from the table.

your husband placed a firm hand on your back, taking the wine glass from your hands and coaxing you to stand. “g’won, lovie. on your knees for our bashful lad, hmm?” simon’s choice of words struck you. our. this was for both of you, not just simon. the two of you had discussed the idea of a threesome once, but it felt like a pipe dream then. you’d expressed interest, never really expecting simon to share but confessing your fantasy all the same. and now, here it was. Happening.

you did as you were told, kneeling in front of the sofa where johnny was. from this angle, you could see how harshly his chest was rising and falling, his breath quick and uncertain. it brought you a strange sense of satisfaction that you could fluster a special ops soldier so easily. you sat there expectantly, but johnny didn’t move. he just stared at you, almost the same way he’d stared at his dinner plate before digging in. his eyes traced the contours of your body, over your shoulders and down to your full chest, over your breasts and down to the plush of your stomach and thighs where they pressed against your dress.

“starin’ won’ make ‘er cum, johnny,” simon quipped. you drew in a sharp breath, glancing back over your shoulder at your husband. he clicked his tongue again, motioning back towards johnny. “ah-ah, keep your eyes on ‘im, precious. he needs y’r attention more’n I do.” you looked back up at johnny dutifully, your lips parting slightly as you waited for him to do something, anything. the fabric of the rug was biting into your knees, making you a tad uncomfortable. “she’s yer wife, simon, I cannae jus’-” “you can an’ you will,” simon interrupted. “the only way she gets any pleasure tonigh’ is by your hand, an’ I don’t let my wife go to bed unsatisfied.” you let out a whine at that, the stakes so much higher now that you knew the terms. johnny just had to touch you.

“steamin’ jesus,” the Scot cursed under his breath, your whine sending a spark of pleasure between his legs. he’d never heard a woman make that sound before, especially not at the prospect of being pleased by him. “i can touch ‘er?” he asked, but he didn’t look at simon for an answer. his stare was more intense, sizing you up, deciding which piece of you would be most juicy to sink his teeth into. simon hummed in amusement. “unless y’r bloody telekinetic, s’pose ya have to, don’ ya?” simon responded, shifting in his chair. you heard the zipper of his jeans go down and it was almost painful that you couldn’t look at him.

johnny reached forward, taking your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he stroked his thumb along your jaw, shuddering on his exhale. “y’r so soft,” he breathed out, marvelling at the beauty of you on your knees. you lean your head into his touch, following the pulls and pushes of his hand as he inspects you. “such a bonnie bird,” he cooed, spreading his legs and pulling you in closer to him. you shuffle forward, settling yourself more squarely between his knees.

“simon says ya suck cock like a dream. is he righ’?” johnny asked. you nod, leaning forward to mouth at his crotch through his jeans. you could feel how hard he was already from barely having touched you. instead of focusing on the fact that simon was going around blabbing about your blowjob skills, you chose to take in as much of johnny’s musk as you could through his pants. you couldn’t quite smell him, but there was the barest hint of his body wash peeking through.

simon had started stroking himself to the sight of both of you, the wet shlick reaching your ears and emboldening you. knowing that your husband was enjoying this ignited a fire that started in your core and spread through your veins. johnny got the same motivation, locking eyes with simon for only a moment before shoving his jeans and boxers down. you gasp at the suddenness of it, placing your hands on his bare thighs to steady yourself. before you can fully get your bearings, johnny grabs the back of your head and shoves you down.

he’s not as long as simon, but he’s certainly thicker. he fills your mouth almost instantly, your cheeks aching a little with the stretch. you and johnny moan in unison, your eyes fluttering shut as johnny’s hand balls up in your hair. simon chuckles behind you, his hand tightening around himself. “tha’s it, lad. fuck ‘er mouth good, she likes it a bit rough.”

johnny’s hips start thrusting, the ruddy tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. tears bead up in the corners of your eyes, whimpers and moans giving johnny some vibration as he fucks your throat. you applauded yourself for the decision not to wear mascara; cleaning the tears and spit from your face would be difficult enough. saliva dribbled down johnny’s length, wetting your lips as you hollowed your cheeks. the salt of him coated your tongue, precum leaking down your throat. above you, johnny was grunting and groaning like a rutting bull, thrusting into your mouth with abandon. “how’s my girl feel, johnny?” simon asked, his voice sounding strained. hearing just how affected they both were had your pussy dripping with arousal. “fuck, si, she’s…ah, so warm. fuckin’ milkin’ me.”

your tongue traced the protruding vein on the underside of johnny’s cock, delighting in the shudder you earned from him. it didn’t take long after that for him to finish down your throat. you swallowed every drop, taking in everything he offered. he was more bitter than simon, but you enjoyed it all the same. you pulled your mouth off of johnny’s cock with a wet pop, peeking up at him with heavy lidded eyes. the man you saw was not the man who’d sat across from you at dinner. he looked downright feral, grabbing you like a man possessed. he pulled you up from the floor, laying you out on the sofa and tugging your underwear down.

before johnny tossed them away, he held them to his nose, drinking in the smell of you. he groaned, balling the fabric up in his fists. “y’r bird smells like heav’n, l.t.,” he rasped, dropping the panties and fixing his wild gaze back on you. “bet she tastes even better.” without any further warning, he dipped his head between your thighs, thick tongue lapping up the moisture from your cunt. you squealed in surprise, throwing your head back against the cushions. simon bit back a curse behind his hand, watching his best friend devour his wife like his last meal. the mere thought was enough to make him spill all over his hand and stomach, his release silent so as not to distract johnny.

you didn’t think anything could. your thighs clamped around his head to keep him in place, but it was hardly necessary. even the rapture couldn’t pull him away from your pussy and the nectar that dripped from it. as much as you enjoyed the feeling, johnny wasn’t as coordinated as simon was. his tongue was wild, moving for his pleasure rather than yours. 

you twitched and moaned when he would happen to graze your clit, hoping that he’d get the hint, but he never did. there was no technique, no purpose. johnny came up for air, hazy eyes meeting yours. he was pussy-drunk, your juices shining on his lips and chin. he nosed at the inside of your plush thigh, sinking his teeth into the fat there. it stung and your back arched, reaching down to push his head away. the sting wasn’t pleasurable, not compared to his tongue against your cunt.

the moment simon caught the resistance from you, he was on his feet, yanking johnny back by his mohawk. the Scot gasped, back arching as simon held his hair tight in his fist. “easy, mutt,” simon growled in johnny’s ear, pushing his head down to look at you. “tha’s my girl, and y’r gonna treat ‘er with the respect she deserves. not some blushin’ virgin tha’s never had a woman, are ya?” johnny huffed, taking the question as an insult to his manhood. “‘course not,” he said, voice tense and strained. simon shook johnny’s head, then released his hair. “didn’ think so. remember y’r place, treat ‘er right.”

the scolding from simon had leveled johnny, forced him to slow down and think with his brain and not his cock. you twitched and whined as he paid more attention to your aching clit, swollen and puffy with desire. your hips bucked against your will, pressing against johnny’s tongue harder. 

finally, his tongue pushed inside you, caressing your walls. you clenched around him, tension building in your lower stomach. “don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged, chest heaving. simon appeared at your side, stroking your hair. his gaze was soft, admiring, a welcome contrast to johnny’s. “cum on his tongue, love. he’s been waitin’ for it, not gonna stop ‘til he gets it.” those words were all it took to push you over the edge, shuddering and whining as johnny licked you through your orgasm.

you felt floaty after, the pleasure of having your husband’s best friend eat you out while your husband watched going straight to your head. there were cooed praises and kisses to your cheeks, but you weren’t entirely sure who they came from. hushed words were exchanged at your feet, then johnny was zipping himself up and kissing you goodbye. simon wrapped you in your favorite fuzzy blanket, the gentle sway of his gait soothing you as he carried you to the bedroom. once he’d laid you on the bed, he started to leave, but your soft hum and hand on his arm stopped him. “si? can we do that again?” you asked, voice soft and wrecked.

simon just chuckled, brushing your hair away from your face. “don’ you worry, lovie. he’s comin’ back for dinner next week.”

[violentdelights-violentendss]

Logan Going Into a Rut.

Would you guys like a part two? I could make a part two if you guys want….let me know how it is and please request a thousand more things I am eagerly awaiting your requests!!! (I am also working on the ones I already got!) I didn’t spell check this….

Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Logan goes into a rut earlier than he expected.

Logan had woken up that morning significantly earlier than he usually did. You were still sleeping peacefully next to him, entangled in the sheets you had stolen from him during the night. Logan didn’t mind too much, being always warm. But that morning, he felt even hotter than usual. He slid his hand against his bare chest, feeling it to be slick with sweat. He closed his eyes, massaging his temples, before he shook his morning drowsiness and confusion away, deciding he would not be able to sleep any longer. He walked to the bathroom, deciding to take a cold shower even if it was the heart of winter.

He wasn’t too mad about the early start, Charles having drowned him in a very extensive list of things to do, not counting the lessons he had to begrudgingly teach that afternoon. Logan stepped outside of the bathroom, fully clothed and ready for the day, even if he still felt a little drowsy. He chalked it up to having eaten too heavily the night before, maybe the digestion worsening his sleep.

He checked himself in the mirror, making sure he looked decent. He started heading towards the door of your room. Right before he left, he glanced at you, making sure you were still in deep sleep. Logan’s eyes froze on your figure: your sleeping shorts had slid up your body, revealing your thighs, and your braless tits hidden underneath the shirt you had stolen from him begged him to jump back into bed with you. He exhaled loudly. Logan gripped the door so tightly he thought his claws would come out. He needed to go work. He shook his head, cursing Charles as he shut the door behind him.

•

Logan had been running around the X mansion fulfilling various tasks, not noticing as the day slowly, and sluggishly slid forward. The gloominess of the morning left its place to the timid rays of the winter sun, that caressed his back as he finished fixing a broken kitchen cabinet. A multitude of students had already waltzed inside the kitchen, still half asleep. They had uttered a sleepy ‘good morning’, before they grabbed a little food. Logan grunted in response, too focused on the darn kitchen cabinet. The flow of students had significantly slower when he had managed to finally fix it.

Logan slammed down the screwdriver. “Fucking finally.” He closed and opened the cabinet a few times, smiling proudly when the cabinet door did not decide to dramatically clatter to the ground rather choosing to finally stay in place.

“What are you celebrating, baby?”

Your voice startled him, but he quickly turned around, a type of smile reserved for you only gracing his lips. “(Y/N).” You grinned back at him. “I managed to fix this darn cabinet door that someone, managed to detach in the dead of night.”

Your eyes glinted. “You have a gut feeling about who did it?”

“Definitely.” Logan replied, walking around the counter to hold your waist. “I woke up super early this morning.” He added. You pulled back from his chest, worry dancing in your eyes. “No nothing serious, bub, I just think I ate a dinner that was too heavy.”

Your eyes relaxed, pushing up on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. You were about to pull back when Logan suddenly deepened the kiss, darting his tongue in your mouth. You leaned back into the kiss, letting yourself be pulled by Logan’s large, warm hands on your waist. The man grunted into the kiss, his body starting to tingle on fire, desire coursing through your veins. The way he was pulling you close seemed desperate, as if he needed you to breathe.

You gasped in shock when his hands slid onto your waist and pressed you against his crotch, feeling his already erected cock. “Already hard?” You whispered, looking down at the evident bulge in his pants. Logan pushed you against the counter, caging you against it. His chest heaved frantically.

“No idea, darling. You’re making me go crazy today.” He whispered, before he dove back into the kiss. You fully lost yourself in it, knowing the kitchen was pretty much deserted at this point in time. He pressed into the kiss, his tongue caressing your mouth, desire making his chest burn incandescently. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting your hands roam on his large back, his scent making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You were about to suggest moving it to the bedroom when Logan suddenly pulled back, pressing his crotch tightly against yours and caging you tightly against his chest. You glanced up at him, worried something happened when you noticed his legs were quivering. A moan erupted from his lips, and his hips thrusted against yours. “(Y/N), oh my god!” He grunted. You didn’t know what was happening till you felt wetness from Logan’s crotch, seeping into your leggings, as his head was thrown back, and he panted loudly.

“Did…Logan did you cum?” You asked, startled: he usually lasted more than a few rounds. His endurance was crazy. Logan’s eyes fluttered open, lust blowing his pupils wide. He slowly looked at you, disbelief clearly evident on his face. You tentatively bucked your hips, watching as he shivered.

“I think…” Logan swallowed, reaching his hand to feel his crotch. “My rut might be coming early.” He closed his eyes, cursing himself: the sweat, the ever present arousal, the shitty sleep…it was all there. Your eyes widened, shooting down to the clear stain on his light blue pants, and the evident bulge that was already growing again.

“Fuck, today is not the day for that.” You cursed.

“What, why?” Logan asked, grunting when he felt the head of his cock press against the seam of his jeans. Why did he decide to go commando today of all days.

“I have that overnight field trip with my students! I can’t bail last minute.” You cried, your eyes widening. Logan’s face contorted into a grimace of pain, a curse rolling out of his mouth, as he realized this day would suck. A lot. He would have to spend the day locked in your room, rutting against your panties to try and feel any sort of momentary solace. But he knew you could not desert your students just like that. Even if he acted all gruff and scary, he knew what caring for students meant, and he would not rip their favorite teacher away from them, especially during a field trip that was only supposed to be joyful.

He caressed your cheeks. “It’s gonna be alright, baby. I’ll figure it out.” He lied through his teeth, already feeling his skin starting to burn and itch with almost irresistible lust.

You glared back at him. “No, it’s not fine and we both know it. You know what, I’ll come back tonight. I won’t stay overnight. How does that sound, baby? Huh?” You asked, pulling against his shirt to try and get him to concentrate through the daze of lust that was already taking over.

Logan nodded, his head spinning. “Yeah, that would be great, love.” He whispered. You moved against him, trying to reach your phone to check the time, your knee gliding against his bulge. “Fuck!” Logan croaked, throwing his head back.

You locked your phone, glancing up at him. “Logan, baby, I still have 10 minutes. What can I do?” You asked, caressing his chest.

Before he replied, Logan gently grabbed your arm, dragging the both of you inside the supply closet, and locking the door behind you.

Safely inside, Logan closed his eyes, trying to look past his primal instincts, and deem what would be the best course of action. Objectively, fucking you would keep him satisfied the longest, but there wasn’t time in 10 minutes. He discarded his rationality, fully relying on his animal instincts, knowing what they desired in the moment would keep him satisfied the most. “This…might be weird, baby, but I just need to rut against you, please.” His voice was heavy with need.

“Baby, I’m here. I’m here for everything.” You reassured him, spreading your legs, letting Logan position his crotch right in between, were he needed to be. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you still as he started to thrust against you. His face soon contorting in a grimace of pleasure, even a drop of drool sliding down the side of his mouth.

Your hands raked Logan’s back underneath his shirt, letting him feel your skin on his. His beautiful eyes slid open, his gaze landing on your tits, that bounced delicately with every trust. “Your tits, babygirl…need to see them.” Logan whispered in your ear. You pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck before you unzipped your jacket, revealing your light tank top underneath: you were going out with your students to a nature park, you needed to be sporty.

You reached for your neckline, feeling Logan’s hand wrap around yours to yank your tits out faster. When they were right in front of his eyes, Logan mewled loudly, leaning down to kiss you fervently as his hips started to jackhammer faster.

Somehow, even in the daze of his lust, Logan had managed to perfectly align his tip with your clit, making you see stars. Your moans quickly started mingling with his. His large hands reached your left thigh, hoisting it up to wrap around his waist. “Right - nghh - there! Logan!” You cried, hearing your boyfriend’s quiet pants fill your ears.

“Gonna make me cum in my pants again. God, you turn me into a horny teenager.” He murmured, his rhythm slowing down for a second before it started picking up again.

Your phone buzzed, showing you the time. “Logan…I need to go soon!” You whimpered, threading your hands through his hair.

“I’m close.” He reassured you, his lidded eyes landing on your jiggling tits. They dragged a broken moan out of his lips. Logan was only ever this loud when he was experiencing his rut. “Are you?” You nodded quickly.

The knot in your stomach had been tightening for a while, and reacted the second it was called to attention. You wrapped your arms tightly around Logan, pressing him against you, practically shoving his face in between your breasts. “Logan!” You cried, throwing your head back, as the thigh he was holding quivered in his hand, orgasming powerfully.

The sudden surge of the smell of your arousal made Logan go crazy, sighing against your tits before he pulled back. He stopped for a second, even if he was close. You watched him, dazed, still descending from your high. Through your tired eyes and panting chest, you watched as Logan hastily unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans pulling out his cock. He quickly placed his leaking cock in between your legs, and you had the reflex to shut your thighs to allow him a little more pleasure.

“Fuck. I could fuck you for hours!” He whispered, starting to move his hips as quickly as he could. You leaned forward, licking a strip up his neck, landing on a spot you knew sent him crazy and gently nibbling on it. Logan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, the sensation of your leggings against his sensitive tip, and your delicate teeth against his neck finally pushing him to the edge.

The orgasm was so powerful he didn’t even have time to warn you. His hips just sped up, his voice ripped away from the pleasure. He didn’t even manage to utter your name, just gripping your waist with his fingers. His mouth snapped open when he felt his orgasm reach him. Logan’s claws sprung out of his hands, puncturing two bags of rice that were placed on the shelves you were pressed against. Just as the rice started tumbling to the ground, Logan cummed, distinctly hearing his cum splatter on the floor.

Your boyfriend slumped against you, his claws retracting, his thighs shivering. You caressed his back, pressing soft kisses against his neck. “You did so well, baby.” You cooed, moving your hands to massage his head. Logan nodded, spent.

Your phone buzzed again, your students asking where you were. You cursed, hastily pulling your shirt back up and zipping your jacket. You clasped Logan’s jawline, forcing him to look at you through his post-orgasm daze. “I’m going to come back as soon as I can. Love you so much, baby.” You whispered, pressing your forehead against him.

Logan’s hands ran down to your waist, dragging you into a kiss. Your bodies melted together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and yanking him closer. Not even a piece of paper could have fit through you. You pulled back, eyeing the string of saliva connecting you. “If we keep going like this, a bigger pool of cum will be on the floor.” You whispered, starting to head towards the door.

Logan grinned, lazily passing his hand through his hair. “Go, have fun. I’ll clean up here. I’ll be waiting for you tonight.” His eyes glinted with an erotic promise. You grinned, blowing a flying kiss. Logan watched the door close behind you, pulling his jeans back up and hastily disinfecting the floor.

He walked outside, quickly going to inform Charles he would be off today before he headed back to the room. He could still feel his buzzing desire for you deep inside his skin, but he felt somewhat satisfied as he threw his shirt on the floor, letting himself fall on the bed. Logan moved on his side, trying to get some sleep to get a break from his lust, but as he adjusted himself on the mattress, his eyes landed on the dirty panties you had accidentally forgotten on the ground. Your scent reached his sensitive nose, drugging him immediately.

Logan glanced down towards his crotch. He was hard again. “Fuck!” He yelled, falling back down on the bed, exasperated. It would be a long, long, day.

[starmocha]

but grandma i love him! (and him and him and him and him) [Sylus/Reader, Xavier/Reader, Rafayel/Reader, Caleb/Reader, Zayne/Reader ★ 2808 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] 5 times Grandma Josephine meets your boyfriend + 1 time she meets your boyfriends. Or: AU where everything is the exact same, but Grandma Josephine lives, but wishes she didn’t so she doesn’t have to know how much of a hoe her granddaughter is. A/N: I wrote most of this, days before Sylus’ myth dropped as a way to cope with the impending and inevitable pain (and oh, was there so much pain with his myth…). I suddenly remembered this a month later, so I rushed to finish it before Caleb comes home again. This is very, very silly and full-on crackhead energy :’) Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia @lavlynyan 【 request to be added 】

Josephine had lived a long life, far longer than she would have anticipated for herself. When one lived as long as she had, mistakes were made and regrets inevitable. That was just life.

She knew that, of course, having pocketed many pearls of wisdom as she had navigated this long road, but that still did not make her feel any less foolish for her recent mistake.

It had seemed so innocent. So pedestrian, really.

How could she have realized that asking to meet her granddaughter’s boyfriend would be one of her greatest mistakes and biggest regret of her life?

one.

“Grandma, this is…Skye,” you said with a forced smile as you gestured to your partner.

‘Skye’ stifled his chuckle and extended a hand to the elderly woman. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Josephine,” he said politely with a charming smile, “Your granddaughter talks fondly about you.”

Josephine smiled in delight, never imagining her granddaughter would bring home a very attractive man. It was like she was looking at a work of art created by God Himself. She shook the young man’s hand happily. “Come in, come in, dinner is ready. We can chat as we eat.”

As dinner progressed, the conversation remained lively. This Skye certainly had a way with his words, his charisma was so radiantly brilliant. Josephine had also never seen her granddaughter as happy as she looked now, noticing how the two would often share sweet whispered secrets when they both thought the old woman wasn’t watching.

Oh, youth, Josephine observed with wistful envy.

After dinner, Josephine left her granddaughter alone in the kitchen to do the dishes as she went to her bedroom to retrieve a family photo album to reminisce over. Along the way, she unwittingly walked in on Skye having a private conversation on the phone in the hallway. She was about to turn away before he noticed when she paused, hearing a peculiar comment from Skye:

“Hm, so they had thought I would be there to be ambushed, did they?”

Ambushed? Josephine furrowed her brows in concern.

“Never mind, I trust you and Luke had taken care of things, correct?”

Taken care? Josephine went pale.

“Hm, they should know that Onychinus does not take betrayal so kindly.”

Motherfucking Onychinus?!

Josephine immediately raced back to the kitchen, not noticing ‘Skye’s’ amused smirk.

You were just finishing the last of the dishes when Josephine grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you immediately and making you nearly dropped the plate you were holding.

“Dear, you have to break up with that man!”

You stared wide-eyed, feeling completely blindsided. “B-but why? I thought you liked Skye, Grandma!”

Josephine looked at you nervously, swallowing slowly before she spoke in a hushed tone, “Dear, I…I just heard him having a conversation…I…I think he’s part of…that notorious group…Onychinus.”

“Oh,” you said flatly.

Josephine stared, confused. “‘Oh’?” she echoed back, flabbergasted. “Dear, I don’t think you understand. Onychinus is a very dangerous group.”

“Uh, yeah, dangerous,” you agreed, tone flat. “Super dangerous…”

Josephine started to get annoyed, not understanding why you were behaving so flippantly about this bombshell news she had just dropped. “Dear, Onychinus is wanted for many crimes. Its leader—”

“Sylus,” you said.

“Right—wait, you know his name?”

“She should.” Josephine heard ‘Skye’s’ deep, smooth voice as he stepped back into the kitchen. “She is dating him.”

Josephine felt like her brain had just short-circuited as she watched this man walked over and leaned down to kiss her granddaughter on the lips.

“Did you even try to be discreet?” You scolded Sylus with a frown after he pulled away.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I saw her from the side,” he admitted, adding, “And I don’t like being kept a secret so…”

“You—mmph!” Sylus immediately kissed you again before you could scold him.

Josephine watched this exchange uncomfortably, feeling like she was having an out-of-body experience as her brain tried to comprehend that her sweet granddaughter, one of the top hunters in Linkon City, was in a relationship with a notorious wanted crime boss.

“I…I need some tea…” she managed after a pause.

“Oh, I’ll make some for you, Grandma!” You pulled away from Sylus immediately, rushing to the cabinet.

At that moment, Sylus’ phone rang. He took a glance at the screen and apologized. “Sorry, I have to take this call.”

Once he was out of the room, Josephine immediately rushed over to you, pulling you to the side. “Dear, do you realize what you are doing?”

“…making tea?”

“Don’t get wise with me, young lady,” she chided you instantly with a strong glare, “You know what I am talking about.”

“…Sylus?”

“Haven’t you thought about how problematic this relationship could be?”

“He does have a strange obsession with crows…”

Josephine looked bewildered. “What does that mean—never mind, I meant that he’s a felon!”

“A little bit, yeah…”

“Dear, is dating a criminal your way of getting back at me for not getting you that pony when you were eight?”

“N-no! Of course not!” You protested. “Besides, Sylus also has this amazing horse, although if I have to be honest, I prefer riding Sylus—”

Josephine had decided that was the perfect moment to black out.

“…motorcycle?! Grandma?!”

two.

Grandma, I have someone I would like you to meet! :)

Josephine felt relief when she had seen that text message her granddaughter had sent. It seemed Sylus was no longer in the picture, she thought, a little worried about any repercussion that could come from splitting with a dangerous crime boss.

As she glanced at the message again, the little smiley face at the end of the sentence calmed the old woman instantly. There was probably nothing to worry about. You seemed pleasant. Cheerful, even.

This was a good sign.

The following Saturday afternoon, Josephine was positively thrilled to meet her granddaughter’s new boyfriend, Xavier. She was immediately charmed by his princely appearance and soft-spoken and polite way of speaking. He truly looked like he had stepped out of a fairy tale.

After introductions were made, you had excused yourself from the group after receiving an urgent phone call from Tara. The other woman was in such an overly anxious state, ranting something about her cat? It took you nearly ten minutes to finally calm your friend before you were able to hang up and return to the group.

Stepping into the living room, you were surprised to see only your grandmother sitting in her chair. You furrowed your brows, feeling a strange knot forming in your stomach. Nervously, you stepped over to your grandmother.

“Wait, where’s Xavier?”

Josephine smiled. “In the kitchen,” she answered, not noticing your face was paling. “He mentioned he wanted to heat up the dish you both brought over in the oven—”

“In the oven?!”

“Yes, the oven—”

The fire alarm blared as dark thick smokes billowed from the kitchen, but thanks to the bravery and promptness of the men and women of Linkon FD, the fire was put out in less than fifteen minutes.

Josephine remained in her chair, face covered in soot, her voice peculiarly neutral. “Dear…”

“Insurance will cover this, don’t worry, and if not, I will buy you a new—”

“I don’t even like tuna casserole.”

“I told you we should have made chicken potpie.”

“Xavier—that’s…that’s not the issue…”

three.

When her granddaughter mentioned bringing an artist over, Josephine had some doubts. She worried about her granddaughter having to support a struggling artist until he could make a name for himself, but even if she did voice her concern, it would most likely have the opposite effect and just make that man seem even more desirable in her granddaughter’s eyes.

It wouldn’t do. She didn’t want to meddle, but she hoped things would just naturally end on its own terms.

Her worries instantly disappeared when her granddaughter sent her a photo of the young couple at an art exhibition. Josephine’s eyes caught the name of the artist as well as the face of the young man with his arm around her granddaughter’s waist in the photo.

Wait.

Rafayel.

This was The Rafayel.

As old as she was, Josephine kept up with the news. She recognized both the name and the face of the artist. She laughed heartily to herself, tickled that her pretty granddaughter managed to catch the eyes of a well-known artist such as Rafayel.

Her worries eased, knowing her granddaughter had just secured her future being entwined with someone as successful as Rafayel. She immediately started planning a wedding. Maybe even a guest nursery in her home for when the happy couple would visit with hopefully numerous great-grandchildren.

From this moment all the way to the next Sunday for brunch, the old woman had an extra pep in her steps. As she exited a taxi, Josephine found herself at a well-known restaurant, popular with brunch for the younger crowd. It was typically packed and hard to get in, but Josephine supposed someone as influential as Rafayel would have no problem securing a table.

“Grandma, over here!” you rushed over to hug your grandmother. After kissing her cheek, you sighed playfully, “You know Rafayel and I offered to pick you up. You didn’t have to take a taxi.”

“Nonsense, an old woman like me is perfectly capable of getting around by herself,” she chided you gently. She patted your hand reassuringly as you both walked arm linked into the restaurant. “This is so exciting, darling. I have been looking forward to meeting Rafayel all week long.”

“Wonderful!” you exclaimed, beaming, “He is really the sweetest, Grandma. You will love him. He gotten us a table outside. It really is beautiful out there.”

Well, Josephine can check off meeting a famous artist on her bucket list.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Josephine,” Rafayel greeted the older woman with a charming smile. “I have heard so much about you from this cutie over here.”

“Ra-Rafayel,” you protested with a blush and then whispered harshly under your breath to him, “N-not in front of Grandma…”

He smiled, shrugging. “Sorry, cutie, force of habit.”

“You did it again…”

Josephine laughed and reassured her blushing granddaughter. “You two really are the cutest thing ever,” she said, smiling in gratitude as Rafayel helped seat the older woman.

The time passed with a lot of pleasantries and sharing stories over a delicious array of food. Smoked salmon, quiche, waffles, fruit salad, and bellinis filled three happy bellies. Just as Josephine was already planning on speed-dialing a wedding planner, she noticed Rafayel’s face did a complete 180.

“Rafayel? Are you alright, dear—”

“M-m-m-monster!”

“Excuse me?” Josephine glared when Rafayel pointed at her.

“N-no, Grandma, it’s not you,” you quickly protested, standing up and rushing to Rafayel when he stumbled out of his seat shaking in fear. “Rafayel, calm down! It’s just a—”

“Meow.”

“Oh!” Josephine laughed when an orange cat leapt onto the table, purring happily at the plate with some leftover smoked salmon. She laughed and started petting its head as the cat greedily licked the plate and ate the remaining morsels. “Where did you come from, little one?”

The cat purred happily amid Rafayel’s screams.

“Rafayel, ca-calm down!” You trailed after Rafayel as he backed away.

“Get that monster away from me!”

“Rafayel! Come back!”

Josephine sighed.

After filling its belly with some delicious salmon, the cat napped in the old woman’s lap, purring contently as its ear was scratched. At that moment, the waiter walked over and placed the bill in front of Josephine to her surprise.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she griped once she realized her granddaughter and Rafayel were both gone.

four.

“Oh, dear, I am so excited to meet this one,” Josephine said, meaning every single word, “The way you described him makes him sound like quite a catch.”

Tall, handsome, intelligent, and with the added bonus of being good in the kitchen! There was no way this one wouldn’t be a perfect match for her sweet, darling granddaughter, who, after all, deserved only the best in life.

You laughed. “Grandma, what are you talking about? You know him.”

Josephine blinked, confused. “…I do?”

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Where’s my favorite pipsqueak?”

You gasped as you felt an arm wrapped around your waist, easily lifting you up. You blushed. “Caleb!”

Josephine laughed. “Caleb, you didn’t tell me you were coming home to visit.”

Caleb looked confused as he settled you back down to the floor, but his arm remained wrapped around your waist. “I thought Pipsqueak mentioned it to you already?”

Josephine frowned. “I don’t believe so,” she said, adding, “But what bad timing, we’re having a guest tonight and—”

She paused, suddenly noticing how Caleb’s arm still remained wrapped around your waist and the way you leaned in close against him. You were all giggly and blushing like a schoolgirl.

“…and…”

“Um, Grandma,” You started feebly, “Caleb is my boyfriend.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Uh, yes, he is.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Grandma—”

“No, he’s not.”

“Caleb!”

“Gran, I—”

“I am taking a nap!” Josephine declared, determined to wake up from this surreal dream she was having.

“Caleb—”

“Shh,” he quietly shushed you. “Gran is taking a nap…”

You glared at him, sighing in defeat as Josephine sat in her chair, blanket over her lap, and she closed her eyes, cursing whatever deity who had decided she needed to deal with this weird-ass situation at her age.

five.

Josephine smiled serenely as she watched you and Zayne make dinner together in your kitchen.

Finally, a good man.

Zayne was always the sweetest little boy, and it pleased Josephine to see he had grown into a kind and caring man with a successful career and highly-respected reputation among his peers. Zayne had effortlessly ticked off every single box in Josephine’s list of criteria for a grandson-in-law: intelligent, kind, patient, respectful, charming, handsome, successful, loving. There was not a single flaw in this young man.

“My love, come taste this,” Zayne called out as he held up a wooden spoon.

Oh, my. Even Josephine couldn’t help but blushed and felt her heart fluttering at witnessing how sweetly affectionate Zayne was with you.

“What do you think?” he asked.

You pondered, licking your lips lightly. You smiled. “Maybe just a little more soy sauce?”

Zayne nodded. “Okay,” he said, “Could you grab the bottle for me then?”

“Of course, Zaddy—”

You froze.

Zayne froze.

Josephine stared.

“Za…Zaddy?” Josephine questioned from across the kitchen island.

“It’s…nothing,” Zayne said, his ears turning red, “Just a silly nickname.”

Josephine nodded, seemingly accepting his weak explanation. “How long until dinner is ready?”

You swallowed nervously and barely managed to rasp out: “An hour…maybe?”

“I’ll just take a quick nap if you two don’t mind—oh, don’t trouble yourself, dear.”

“Okay, Grandma, you can nap on my bed…” You said feebly, a little perplexed by how…calm she seemed.

Josephine nodded again and walked to your bedroom. She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out her phone, searching up ‘Zaddy’ online.

She wished she hadn’t.

+ one.

This was a dream.

A motherfucking dream.

And not even a good one.

Josephine stared at all of the tall, handsome men—and Caleb—towering behind her granddaughter.

“…Dear, I thought you were dating Zayne.” She glanced at the young doctor who looked away in embarrassment.

“I am,” you answered nonchalantly, confused by your grandmother’s behavior.

“…Didn’t you break up with these other young men—and Caleb?”

Caleb blinked.

“No,” you said slowly, “I didn’t want to bombard you with all of them at once, so…I staggered their introductions.”

“You’re…dating…five men…at the same time?”

“Grandma, you are acting like I am banging them all at the same time!”

“Dear, I am sorry, it’s just—”

“We’ve only done it once.”

“…Excuse me?”

“It’s actually harder to coordinate an orgy with everyone’s busy schedule,” you explained thoughtfully, not noticing Josephine’s horrified expression. You continued flippantly, “Zayne has so many surgeries lined up for the next three months. Then Rafayel has an upcoming art show he needs to prepare for, and Sylus—”

Josephine walked away in the middle of the conversation, heading to her bedroom, leaving you flabbergasted.

You looked behind you at your five boyfriends and they all shrugged and scratched their heads, just as lost as you were. Worried, you followed after her. “Grandma? Is something the matter—"

You panicked and shrieked.

“Zayne, Caleb! Grandma is smoking and drinking!”

Josephine mentally sighed as she sat in her bed, leaning back against some propped up pillows as she stared at the ceiling with a bottle of brandy resting on her chest.

Surely, dying in an explosion would be better than this fuckery, right?

[sheyfu]

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader

synopsis: sae turns into a child boohoo (ik impossible but why not idk)

cw: none except my dookie writing skills HAHAHAHHAA IM RUSTY AND IM JS MUCH BETTER W WRITING CHAT AUS’!/&;@/& tbh it kinda lost its plot in the middle but wtv; not proofread HAHAHAAH; swearing

notes: this thought occurred in the midst of me fighting against nature and its worst call (TMI IM SO SORRY); will fix format later cuh i did this on my phone HAHAHAHA; ITS FLUFFY I PROMISE

wc: 781 (LONGER THAN EXPECTED WHAT)

you love itoshi sae. you really really do.

you love him to the point where youre willing to fight anyone and anything just for him even, if it would cost you something.

you wonder how youve come to love him; was it because of his “nonchalant demeanor” that had ticked every time bomb you had in you, or was it his athleticism—yes, i know, boring—that quite literally fixed you in more ways than one? orrr was it actually his cleanliness and (n)-step skin-care routine that would probably do the opposite of what it actually does with how uncooperative your skin is?

youre actually not sure.

but what youre sure about right now, at this time and day, the itoshi sae you fell in love with was definitely not present.

“saeeee” you call out to your husband from the kitchen.

silence.

“saeeeee” calling out much louder, youre met with even more silence that quote on quote, ticked every time bomb you had in you.

weird.

“underlashes?” entering the dining room with your already-running-thin-patience, youre met with a sight to definitely behold.

“what do you want?” your husband—question mark x2–now reduced to a child perfectly mirroring his own features grumbles out from his seat at the table—a half-eaten slice of blueberry cheesecake slathered all over his mouth and some even getting onto his shirt.

what the fuck actually???

“ummmm” you question aloud as confusion paints itself on your face—your eyebrows visibly furrowing as you try to process what’s currently going on.

“you—“

“dont say anything. i dont wanna hear anything.” another grumble—albeit high pitched—comes from the seated man (the boy? child? manchild?) with his signature scowl planted on his face.

you watch with curious eyes as the manchild (youll call him that for now) reaches up for the fork on the “high-ass table counter thingy” (his words, not yours) attempting to feed himself.

heading off to the kitchen to grab your phone (for blackmail), you hear a sudden clank and a scoff from mr. manchild.

turning your head once more to face him, youre once again met with a sight youd definitely want to keep in your book of memories forever.

there, right in front of you, was the itoshi sae, mr. idgafer, the prodigal son™, the man of many names, and the love you call your life, staring down at the fork with the meanest mog and scowliest (is that even a word) face the world has ever seen.

thats right. the itoshi sae that was present right now, at this time and day, was not only the itoshi sae you fell in love with, but also the itoshi sae youd want to spoil, protect, and care for with your whole life.

“sae…” you try to stop yourself from laughing. you really do.

but in that moment, all hell seems to break lose, and that hell was your own laughing hell.

“pfft— hahahaha!” as you laugh your ass off, you miss the subtle shift in the red head’s expression.

your itoshi sae may not have been currently present, but you definitely there; the person he fell madly and deeply in love with. you and your bright smile that could light up all the emo shit inside him, your laughs that seemed to make everything much better, and your—

oh right. his blueberry cake.

ignoring your laughs, the little boy proceeds to hop off the high chair to retrieve the fallen fork.

hes almost tempted to leave you to your laughing trip, but hes too tired to clean up himself. so he does what every child would do; call a trusted adult.

and that trusted adult nearest to him was you, who so happened to be his spouse.

shaking his head, underlashes jr. starts telling you off and bossing you around like the chill guy he is.

“oi stop laughing and help me with this mess.” he slurs out, unable to resist the grin on his face.

“bu- but.. its your- your mess!” taking a deep breath, you wipe away the tears that had appeared on your eyes. “that was a nice laugh! right, underlashes jr?” grinning from ear to ear, you ruffle his hair, receiving multiple complaints and “punches” to your arms.

“yeah yeah whatever. now get off me and help me!” the mini guy successfully swats your hands off his hair, a faint blush blooming on the apples of his cheeks.

“alright, alright! right away, mister mini!” letting out a couple chuckles, you drag the little guy with you to the site of the (his) mess. “im not letting you off the hook though, little guy. you have to clean with me. ‘kay?”

“tch. whatever.”

he wouldnt have it any way though.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not a Word 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: Happy Monday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You can’t hear your father’s voice anymore. You stand at your door, listening for any sign of life. It’s not him you want to avoid, though he’s rarely happy to see you, but his company. You’re pretty sure they left but not entirely. You feel asleep working on your diamond art. 

You can’t wait much longer. You have to pee so bad that you can feel it in your throat. It’s late. You’re sure you’re alone. 

The door hinges scrape like they always do. You hate that noise. You tiptoe down the hall, towards the yellow blare of the kitchen light. You turn into the bathroom and shut the door. You sigh as finally you get your release. 

You flinch as you stand up and pull your elastic waistband over your hips. The hollow metal tink of a metal can sounds from outside. It could be your dad. That would make sense. He probably got up to get water or another can of beer. 

You wash your hands and go back out. You head towards your bedroom without a look in the other direction. The grizzly pronunciation of your name draws you back. Your eyes round as you scuff to a halt. 

You turn to face the burly man at the end of the hall. “Did I wake you?” Sy asks. 

You gulp and shake your head. He’s one of your dad’s coworkers from the shop. He comes over with a six-pack and they sit on the porch to enjoy it. Or they linger in the kitchen and play cards. 

As the shadows shroud him, he looks even bigger than usual. You’ve only ever seen him from a distance. Usually he’s sitting down. Maybe you just never noticed how gigantic he truly is. 

He flips on the hallway light and you blink. His dark beard adds to the squareness of his jaw and his shaved head has dark stubble in a deep peak on his forehead. His blue eyes sparkle despite his naturally fearsome posture. 

“I just got your daddy to bed,” he says. “He should be just fine. You check that he’s on his belly tomorrow morning.” 

You nod again. He does the same. He doesn’t appear frustrated as your father. He seems almost intrigued as he stays there, scratching above the collar of his tee. 

“You okay?” 

You nod. 

“Checkin’, ya know? It’s late. Dark can be scary, huh?” 

Yes, your head bobs in agreement. 

“Right, well, you have a good night. Let me know if ya need anything in the morning. I put my number on the fridge.” He taps on the door frame and turns away. 

Most of your dad’s friends or the same. They don’t pay you much mind. You prefer that. You’re not one for chatting. That fact irks your father to no end. You just stay out of his way, and his friends’, and hide in your room. 

You wait until you hear the front door. Then you go to lock it as Sy’s footsteps clamour on the porch. You stay there, his headlights shining through the window as his engine rumbles to life. The gravel crunches as he reverses out and steers off into the night. 

You go around and shut off the lights. You take your time in the kitchen tidying up the beer cans. You wipe the counters quickly and rinses the dregs off your fingers. You leave the light on so you can find your door. 

You shut yourself in and go back to bed. You leave the small lamp on next to it and turn your back to the glow. You yawn and close your eyes. 

Another night. It’s a bit sad that the best part of your day is going to sleep. Your waking hours aren’t very interesting. When you’re not doing the chores or the cooking, you’re in there, busying yourself with something meaningless. Nothing you do will ever make a difference; not for you or anyone else. 

That’s why your dad hates you so much. You can’t blame him. There’s no jobs out there for someone like you. You tried and all you got for it was embarrassment and a new slew of insults. 

You cross your arms over the top of the blankets and sigh. When you lay in your bed, you can be anything. Behind your eyelids, you can’t paint pictures more gleaming than those etched in the small plastic diamonds. You could be a princess or an actress or even just someone normal. 

What keeps you awake, isn’t your dreams. It’s the dread of the inevitable. Once you fall asleep, you’ll have to wake up again and face bitter reality. 

🩶

Your dad’s snoring rocks you through the walls. The house is small. You hear a lot more than you like. Often, you leave the old Casio radio playing on low to gloss over the cricks and cracks and groans. 

You get up, knowing better than to wait until he does first. If you have the coffee waiting, it will appease a fraction of his temper. With a hangover racking his skull, he won’t be in the best of moods. 

The dead heat of summer roils through the house. Your dad has an AC unit in his bedroom window but it’s not big enough to do much beyond his door. He keeps that closed most days anyways. On the cold days, he also keeps the small electric heater locked away with him. 

You change into a pair of loose linen capris and a plain tank top. You don’t go anywhere so you don’t dress for any occasion. Most of your clothes are akin to pajamas, or nothing more than. 

The machine is old and dingy. No matter how many times you descale it, it keeps that yellow stain in the plastic. You snap the lid shut and flip the red button so it lights up. Dad says once it stops turning on, he’ll waste money on a new one. 

You get yourself a glass of water and wait. It’s early still but his alarm won’t let him sleep in. As it goes off, you keep busy.  

There’s a slam and a grumble. Your dad stirs violently and his door hits the frame as he swings it open. He lumbers out as you pour him a mug. He belches and ignores you. You put it on the table as he turns down the hall and goes into the bathroom. He leaves the door open and you hear his stream piddle into the toilet. 

You ignore it and turn back to your task. Breakfast. It’s the same thing every day. You do his eggs, sunny side up, toasted Wonder bread, and six strips of bacon. The smell soon has your mouth watering. The chair scrapes the floor loudly as he drops into it heavily. 

He slurps loudly behind you as you put together his plate. You set it before him and he wiggles the empty mug at you. You take it and pour him another from the carafe. 

A car door snaps shut. You wince. You didn’t hear an engine, but you’d been too swept up in cooking. You give your dad his refill and go to check the front window. 

“Is it that mailman already?” He hollers. 

You shake your head, even knowing that he won’t see.  

“Don’t know why I fucking ask,” he snarls. 

You watch Sy jump out of his truck. While the axle is high, it isn’t very treacherous for a man his size. He kicks up gravel as he steps around the door and shuts it. You back away as he heads towards the house. 

He clomps up the steps, thump, thump, thump, and you jitter as he approaches the other side of the door. You wait until he knocks before you answer it. You peek out through a single inch of space. He grins. You don’t think he’s ever smiled at you. You assumed he never did at all. 

“How’s the old man?” He asks. 

You blink and let the door open a bit more and give thumbs up. As good as he’ll ever be.  

“That’s good,” he drawls. “So...” 

His eyes drift down, just a little. You squirm. Your shirt feels thinner as you stand there. Your nipple poke into the fabric and you hug yourself awkwardly. You remember you asked your father for a bra once. He laughed and you never brought it up again. You try to stick to loose clothing. 

You point over your shoulder then make a gesture as if you’re holding a fork and scooping. 

“Having breakfast, that’s nice.” 

You don’t have enough for him. You’ll wait until your dad’s at work before you sit and have your single slice of toast and peanut butter. 

“I already ate, in case ya worried,” he assures. “Was just comin’ to make sure I didn’t give him too much sauce.” 

He laughs. His booming humour makes your flinch. Your brows pop up and he quiets. 

“Sorry, I know, I’m a loud one, huh?” He snorts, “I don’t mean ta scare ya.” 

“I told ya, she don’t say shit,” your father growls into a yawn. You step back and the door opens all the way as you press yourself to the wall. He saunters forward in his boxers and tank top. “No point goin’ on like that when she probably don’t even understand.” 

“She understands me,” Sy avows confidently. “After a night with your drunk ass, it’s a breath of fresh air to have someone not yammer on.” 

“You’re the one brought me the piss,” your father retorts. 

“And you didn’t complain when I did,” he counters. “Wanted to see if ya were going to make it in today. Just in case I gotta finish up Dubeau’s clunker.” 

“I’ll be there,” your father sneers. “Why don’t you go and get it all warmed up for me?” 

“You’re a prick, Don,” Sy huffs. 

“What? No, you can’t see it,” your father covers his crotch and you blanch, looking away embarrassed. 

“Don,” Sy rebukes, “there’s a lady.” 

“It’s my daughter, dammit. She’s too stupid to get it,” he spits. “Hey, you, go on, kitchen’s a mess.” 

You nod and avoid looking at the other man out of embarrassment. Your father is crass, sometimes even at your expense. And he knows you can understand him. He must. You do everything he tells you too. 

“Well, then, I’ll see ya round,” Sy calls, though you only realise he’s talking to you as your dad changes the subject to some tail pipe. 

You stop and peek back. Sy watches you over your dad’s head. You give a wave, just a tilt of your hand, then continue into the kitchen. 

You can’t help but be thankful for the interruption. Sy’s boisterous intrusion offered a buffer between you and your dad’s hangover. You wash his plate, cutlery, and mug, before you move onto the pots and pans you used to cook. 

You can hear your dad barking outside at Sy. The other man responds with a deep rumble. Are they arguing? 

The front door swings open, “hey, girl,” you dad whistles, “more coffee. Bring some for this lump.” 

You take the order in stride. You don’t have enough for two cups, maybe half of one. You start a new pot and wait. When it’s finished, you dry your dad’s mug and pull out another. You carry both to the front door and elbow through. 

You hand one to each man as they stand by the porch railing. Your dad takes his gruffly, spilling some on your fingers, but Sy thanks you. 

“You didn’t even ask if he wanted sugar or cream,” your dad chides. You give him a startled look. He snorts. “How’d ya do that, huh? Maybe blink your eyes real big.” 

You frown at his mocking. Sy exhales and you back away. Now you have two men annoyed with you. You glance over at the bigger of the pair as he stares at you. You should’ve thought of you. Coffee is bitter, it’s why you don’t drink it. 

You point to his cup and he shakes his head, “coffee’s fine,” he insists, “I’ll have something sweet later.” You nod and retreat. You turn your back to them and step inside. Before you close the door, you hear Sy, “you know I take my coffee black, Don. No needa to give the girl a hard time.” 

You shut it before you can catch whatever snide remark your father tosses back. You know he won’t take kindly to being told what to do, especially if it’s to do with you. Or because of you. You’ll hear it all later, you’re sure. 

[arabella0001]

i writed like 2 days for this beloved man

kisuke doesn’t reveal his bankai often, lucky for you, he’s got plenty of other things he’s more willing to show

anime: bleach

pairings: kisuke urahara x reader

synopsis: curiosity killed the cat

warnings: long, a lot of tessing, edging, fingering, oral (male receiving), light rough sex, after care

You’ve always been aware of Kisuke.

He’s not the kind of man you can easily ignore. Whether it was that sly smile constantly tugging at his lips that makes him appearing carefree, his strategic mind always masking his true intentions or his frequently teasins others—expecially you. Kisuke Urahara had an irritating talent for making you blush. And as much as you found that part of him infuriatingly attractive, you never thought it was anything more than a game to him.

Why would it be? He’s teased you so many times it feels like second nature—just a harmless habit he indulged in because he could.

So you never let yourself think too much about him that way. It was easier to brush it off, to assume that was just who he was. Expecially when you’re not the only person he does this to.

But you’ve been working at Kisuke’s shop long enough to know when something’s up, like deflection from his true reasons.

His usual antics are predictable—constant teasing, sly remarks—but today feels different. His presence is present more, his touches wandering a little longer than usual, and the way his eyes track you isn’t just casual. It’s calculated.

You try to ignore it. It’s probably nothing.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself until he slides up behind you while you’re reorganizing shelves. His hand finds your shoulder, fingers snaking lazily around it.

His breath is warm against your ear, the flirtatious edge unmistakable.

“Well, well… look at you. Working so hard today. I hardly recognize you”

You fumble with the item in your hand, nearly dropping it. He’s too close—too casual about the way he leans in, his chest almost brushing your back. Is not like your touch deprived, but you’re not used to it, and his attractive persona and unconventional charm doesn’t help either.

“I-I just want to finish up quickly,” you stammer, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel. “The faster I finish, the sooner I can get home.”

“Oh? In a hurry, are we?” His voice dips lower, humor lacing around every word.

You feel his gaze on you, unwavering, even as you force yourself to focus on the shelves.

Kisuke steps in closer, his arm brushing against yours as he pretends to help by reaching for something—his fingers grazing yours. If you believe in coincidences, that is.

“Home’s nice and all,” he murmurs, voice quiet enough that it feels just for you. “But I can’t help but wonder… no date waiting for you?”

Your breath catches. You edge back, pretending to adjust a box. Why he is suddenly interested in this kind of answears?

Kisuke sees right through it, of course.

“A date?” you scoff, trying to recover. “Like I have time for that. I barely keep up with work here, let alone everything else.”

His smug smile widens. “Ah, yes. The ever-dedicated worker. Sacrificing love for labor. How tragic.” And you barely contain to don’t roll your eyes at that.

He leans in slightly. “A shame, really. I would’ve thought you’d have a long line of admirers by now.”

Your cheeks flush despite your best efforts, and you curse inwardly.

“I—I need a break,” you mutter, practically fleeing outside before he can say anything else.

His chuckle follows you out. “Take your time. I’ll be here if you miss me’’

You exhale, pacing just outside the shop.

What the hell is he doing today? Is he bored? Is he messing with you?

But after a few minutes, you manage to cool off. You tell yourself you’re imagining things, you need to just mind your business.

When you step back inside, Kisuke is laughing with the others, his usual breezy self. He’s chatting with Tessai and Jinta, but his eyes flicker toward you briefly—so brief it’s almost dismissible. Almost.

The day winds down, but the weight of his gaze follows you. Every now and then, when he thinks you aren’t paying attention, you catch him watching.

Evening comes, and after the last customer leaves, you finally snap.

“What’s your deal, Kisuke?” you blurt, arms crossing as you glare at him from across the room.

He pauses, leaning lazily against the counter. His hat tilts forward, shadowing his green eyes, but that damn grin remains.

“Deal?” he echoes, tapping his chin. “I’m just admiring your craftsmanship. Can’t a humble shop owner appreciate his employee’s dedication?”

You narrow your eyes, not buying it. “You never watch me like this.”

Kisuke chuckles, but the glint in his eye sharpens. “Well, you did say you wanted me to stop hiding behind jokes. I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

He steps forward. One step. Then another.

You retreat instinctively until your back brushes the wall. His hand lifts, palm flattening against the wall beside your head, caging you in.

You swallow hard, your eyes stretched in surprise. “Kisuke—”

“Oh?” His eyes flicker, and the usual playfulness deepens into something heavier, unsettling. “That’s the second time you’ve said my name like that. I’m starting to think you like this.”

His face looms over yours, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Well?” His voice lowers, teasing but firm. “Didn’t you ask me to stop playing around?”

Your pulse quickens. Heat rises in your chest. You didn’t see this coming at all.

“I… didn’t see expect this… whatever this is,” you admit, voice quieter than intended.

Kisuke hums softly, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, tilting your face up just enough to catch his eyes hidden behind the brim of his hat.

“Expect?” he repeats, the word rolling lazily off his tongue. “Sweet thing, I live to defy expectations.”

His gaze drops to your lips—smooth and slow. You notice. And he knows you notice.

His hand slips lower, fingers grazing your hip. Light enough to make you shudder, unrushed enough to know exactly what he’s doing.

Your eyes flick between his lips and his unreadable gaze. “You drive me insane,” you murmur, frustration blending with something else.

“I noticed,” he says easily, arrogant while tilting his head. “So… what are we going to do about it?”

You think for a moment and then.

You kiss him.

His response is immediate. One hand slides to the small of your back, tugging you body against him as his lips part against yours. The kiss deepens—measured but heated, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth, coaxing a quiet moan from you.

There’s a moment where his teasing pauses, lips parting as his head tilts back slightly.His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head further. He swallows every sound you make, his grip on your waist tightening.

You gasp when his lips trail down, nipping at the soft skin of your neck. A low, rumbling hum escapes his throat, as if savoring the way you feel beneath him.

“Sensitive, aren’t we?” Kisuke chuckles against your skin, lips brushing just below your ear. His hand drifts lower, fingers teasing the curve of your thigh.

“Kisuke…” you manage, your voice shaky.

“Oh, I like the way you say my name,” he murmurs, his lips tracing your pulse. “But I think you can do better.”

His hand inches higher. There’s weight behind his touch, but it’s not rushed—it’s the slow, savoring kind of touch, as if he’s in no hurry to reach the finish line.

You groan softly, pressing closer. “Touch me.”

Kisuke’s breath hitches faintly. His smirk returns, curling lazily against your neck.

“Touch you?” he echoes, fingers skating just beneath the hem of your shirt. “My, my. Forward tonight, aren’t we?”

But he doesn’t stop.

His fingers deftly unbutton your pants and slip inside, finding your already dampened panties. He rubs slow circles over your sensitive flesh, making you gasp into the kiss.

"Tsk tsk… Someone’s more responsive than I expected. Should I take credit for this?’’ he teases, nipping at your lower lip before trailing kisses along your jawline.

He pulls back just enough to gaze into your flushed face, a mysterious smile playing on his own lips.

“We wouldn’t want to cause a scene—at least, not here. Shall we?”

With a flick of his wrist, the store's security charms disappear, leaving the two of you alone amidst the shelves of Soul Society merchandise.

Your legs tremble as he continues to tease you through your underwear, the sensation of his fingers on your most intimate area driving you wild with need. You almost hate how your body reacts to him.

At his words, you glance around the shop, a mix of excitement and uncertainty coursing through you.

Noticing your glance, he let out a low scoff, fingers never ceasing their maddening caress. "Oh, don't worry, dear. No one will disturb us. These charms ensure our privacy."

He leans in close again as he whispers,’’Let’s take this somewhere more… accommodatin, hmm?’’

With a effortless motion, he lifts you onto the counter, the cold glass beneath your thighs a stark contrast to the heat building within you. His hands immediately resume their exploration, this time slipping beneath your skirt to push your panties aside.

"Such a responsive little thing, aren't you?" he muses, his thumb circling your clit as his big fingers delve deeper, stroking your slick inner walls.

You moan loudly, unable to hold back the pleasure as he touches you so intimately. Your hips buck against his hand instinctively, craving more friction.

"Oh god, Kisuke... Please... I need..."you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cling to him desperately.

The way he's playing with your body, the filthy and teasing words spilling from his lips, you can feel the coil of tension in your pussy tightening, ready to snap at any moment.

"Just... Just make me come," you so close to begging, your voice trembling with desire "I can't take anymore..."

Kisuke's cheeky smirk widens as he watches your reactions, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Feeling a bit overwhelmed, hmm? Can't handle a little teasing?"

He slows his movements, letting his fingers just graze your sensitive spots, stoking the flames of craving rather than quenching them, looking at your submissive look, whimpering for release. He smirks at you, taking your mouth in an intense kiss, his movements low and precise, driving you mad.

He bite your lip and you moan, you can’t take it anymore.

“I hate you” you barely managed to let it out.

With a sudden shift, he resumes his previous rhythm, his fingers plunging deep and fast, hitting that exact spot inside you that left you trembeling.

"Ah… such harsh words for someone trembling under me." Kisuke’s chuckle vibrates against your skin, low and rich, the sound curling around you like smoke. "I must be doing something right to earn that kind of praise."

He drags his tongue along the curve of your throat again, lingering when he reaches the soft thrum of your pulse, his hand grabbing your hair with a light tug making you gasp.

"I wonder if you even realize how much you give away… Naughty thing, getting this worked up over a little attention."

He pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, eyes gleaming with that familiar glint of trouble. "Don’t worry, Y/N. I don’t mind. In fact…" He leans in, brushing his lips just barely over yours. "I find it rather endearing."

You can’t understand how his teasing words make you so aroused, your legs tremble so hard while your vision start blurring.

“Kisuke oh my—“

As your orgasm crashes over you, Kisuke's fingers continue their relentless strokes, prolonging your climax until you're writhing and sobbing with pleasure. Only when your spasms begin to subside does he slow, then withdraw his fingers from your still-quivering pussy.

He brings them to his lips, sucking your essence clean with a satisfied hum. Kisuke smooths down your skirt with practiced ease, his hands on you thighs "There we go—neat and presentable"

His tone is light, but the wicked gleam in his eyes betrays him. It’s as if he hadn’t just left you shaken and undone.

Without waiting for an answer, Kisuke pulls you to your feet gently, guiding you through the dimly-lit shop by your hands until you reach the tucked-away corner of his personal space. The faint scent of sandalwood lingers in the air, grounding yet evidently his.

His gaze flickers with desire as he eases you onto the couch, standing over you with a quiet intensity. "Now, let’s see… where were we?"

Kisuke’s fingers ghost over your skin as he undoes your clothing piece by piece, his movements deliberate but unhurried.

"Ah… what a sight," he muses, trailing a fingertip down the curve of your collarbone, his finger circling your swollen peck, hardening in his wake. “Almost as captivating as the hidden gems of this shop. But I must admit…" His eyes catch yours, glinting with something darker. "You’re far more tempting."

His hands continue their exploratory journey, tracing the curves of your body with a gentle firmness.

Kisuke’s fingers trace delicate patterns over your sensitive skin, your arms and waist, your thighs and hips, drawing out soft whimpers and gasps that only seem to fuel his amusement.

"Oh, I hear you loud and clear, darling. But let’t have a little patience…" his lips hover near your ear, his voice a velvety purr.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, your skirt slips to the floor, pooling at your feet. Kisuke steps back just slightly, his gaze roaming over you, drinking in the sight with a dangerous glint dancing behind his half-lidded eyes making you flusttered.

"Mmm… now that’s a view worth savoring." His fingers ghost along the edge of your lace panties, knuckles grazing your hips as if testing the boundaries of his self-control. "Let’s see what other secrets you’re hiding, shall we? I think these curves deserve a little more… attention."

His hand lingers, not moving further just yet, letting the weight of his words—and his gaze—sink into you.

Your cheek flush under his intense gaze “Your turn now” Kisuke's eyes still flash with amusement as you boldly strip him bare, revealing his lean, toned physique. He doesn't resist, instead leaning back to allow you full access.

"Well now, isn't this a surprise? The tables have turned, haven't they?" he remarks, his voice tinged with fascination intrigue.

As your hands wander across his body, eager and curious, Kisuke’s gaze never wavers.

His muscles tense beneath your palms, subtle but telling. His body responds instinctively, hips canting forward with a deliberate slowness that lets him draw out every second of pleasure.

"Careful now, Y/N… you might unearth secrets even I’ve forgotten I was hiding."

His hands slide effortlessly to your hips, fingers pressing in just enough to remind you who’s leading this dance. With a gentle tug, he pulls you against him, the heat between you igniting like a slow burn.

The heat of his body envelops you, and you can feel the hardness of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly.

"Now, why don't you show me what else you're capable of, my little explorer?" he whisper, tilting his head just enough to brush his lips over the corner of your mouth

Kisuke's breath hitches as your lips and tongue trail a scorching path down his torso, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. He threads his fingers through your hair, guiding you lower.

“Mmm… careful now, Y/N. You're treading dangerous ground," Kisuke muses, his voice low and laced with desire. "Once you start something like this… stopping isn’t so simple."

His warning is light, but there’s no real intention behind it. He makes no move to dissuade you, his gaze fixed intently as you sink to your knees before him. His eyes widen slightly, that flirtatious glint tempered by something far more primal.

"Oh? Bold as ever…" he murmurs, his head tilting slightly, the smirk tugging at his lips betraying just how much he’s enjoying this. "Tell me, my curious little kitten—" his hips shift forward, just enough to tempt, "—will you strike now, or are you going to let your prey squirm a little longer?"

The challenge hangs between you, thick and electric, his gaze unrelenting as he waits for your next move.

You look up at him shyly, your eyes locked with his as you wrap your fingers around his rigid cock, giving it a slow squeeze.

Kisuke's eyes roll back, a low groan rumbling in his chest as your hand closes around his throbbing member. A shaky exhale slips through gritted teeth, and for once, the usual witty remarks are replaced by quiet, indulgent groans.

He rocks his hips, subtly thrusting into your grasp, seeking more of that exquisite pressure. The sight of your flushed cheeks and lust-filled eyes only fuels his arousal. His pupils dilate, lingering on your errotic position as if committing the image to memory.

"Look at you, so bold and daring," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure.

With a fluid motion, he guides your head closer, the tip of his erection brushing against your parted lips. "Why don't you put that clever mouth of yoursto use, hmm?´’ He tilts his head slightly as he watches your reaction unfold. "No pressure, of course… but I’d hate to think all that potential is going to waste."

Kisuke's breath catches in his throat as you take him into your mouth, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Well, well, looks like someone's eager to please—mmm”

His gaze lingers, drinking in every reaction you give, clearly savoring the effect he has on you. He felt your throat muscles flutter around his cock, the vibration of your muffed moans make it so hard for him to control himself.

His eyes narrow slightly, his usual demanour unexpected slipping into something more untamed, running his fingers through your hair, guiding you to take him deeper, he is panting as your tongue swirls around the sensitive head of his cock—it was pure eroticism.

Kisuke's gaze bores into you, his expression a mix of playful smugness and intense focus. He's clearly enjoying the sensation, but there's an undercurrent of something more – a challenge, a game of cat and mouse.

Kisuke's breath hitches again as you increase your efforts, his grip on your hair tightening reflexively, his knuckles turning white.

He press forward hitting the back of your mouth. He held still for a moment, savoring the sensation of being deepthroated by you. He tries to maintain his composure, but the intensity of your oral attentions and you innocent flushed cheecks is quickly eroding his defenses.

"Hah... Y/N, you naughty minx," he manages to gasp out between clenched teeth, his hips beginning to piston faster. "If you keep that up, I won't be responsible for my actions."

Despite his warning, Kisuke allows himself to surrender to the pleasure, his movements becoming more erratic and forceful. His groans make clear he won't last much longer under your skilled onslaught.

He decided to pull out before is too late, panting heavily. He lifts you onto the plush couch, his hands roaming your curves with a possessive touch while you still recover, face ravished and your voice more hoarse.

“Time for the main event, my dear. Are you ready to see what this old fox is truly capable of?" his eyes is searching yours, looking for consent “May I continue?”

Seeing you nod immediately, he settles between your thighs, his hard length nudging against your entrance. With a wicked grin, he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely penetrating you before withdrawing making you whimper.

Kisuke's fingers dig into your hips as he grips them, holding you in place as he lines himself up once more. This time, he drives forward with a smooth, powerful stroke making you moan loudly as he fills you completely, your nails digging into his back.

“Ahhh—“ Kisuke's lips curve into a triumphant smirk as he feels you stretch around him, your inner walls clenching tightly around his invading length.

His back arches subtly, muscles rippling beneath your touch. He stills for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried so deeply inside you, making him gasp. There’s a hitch in his rhythm, as if even he can’t maintain the act when it feels this good.

"Oh, I think the gods are very pleased indeed," he teases, his voice low and rough with satisfaction. "To think, I was worried you might not be able to handle me after all."

With a subtle shift of his hips, Kisuke begins to move, setting a languid, sensual rhythm that has you panting, writhing beneath him. His hands roam your body, caressing and exploring every inch of skin he can reach.

You can’t even control your moans, bucking your hips to meet his deep thrusts

“Fuck fuck fuck—“

Kisuke's eyes glint with delight as he listens to your impassioned cries, his hips snapping against yours with increased urgency. His teeth graze your earlobe, breath hot against your skin. "Don’t worry. I’ll give you exactly what you need”

Kisuke's hands slide down to hold your thighs, spreading them wider as he picks up speed, driving into you with long, deep strokes that have you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

“Mmmm…you are too big” Kisuke's smirk widens at your indirect praise, his chest puffing up with masculine pride. "Of course I am, dear. After all, I am a master of my craft."

He punctuates his statement with a particularly forceful thrust, grinding against your sensitive clit as he bottoms out inside you. "But size isn't everything, now is it? It's how I wield it that truly matters."

Kisuke's fingers dig into your thighs, holding you steady as he continues to pound into you with relentless precision, each stroke hitting that perfect spot deep within. A soft groan escapes him, muffled against the curve of your neck, and his fingers flex—digging in just enough to leave faint marks in their wake.

Kisuke's smile widen as he watches you writhe beneath him"Oh, you're enjoying this, aren't you? Getting so nicely worked up on my cock.

He rolls his hips, grinding against you with a tantalizing slowness that has you arching off the couch. "I must admit, I'm rather fond of seeing you like this - all flushed and desperate for release. It's quite...flattering, really."

Kisuke's hands skim down your sides, his fingertips dancing along your ribs in a maddeningly light touch.

Your whole body trembeling with the effort of holding back you orgasm “Kisuke…please harder—“

Kisuke's eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise at your plea, a wicked gleam entering his eye. “Harder, you say? Oh, but where's the fun in that, my dear?"

He slows his pace to a teasing crawl, his cock dragging deliciously against your sensitive inner walls. “You know, some people might call this torture. But I prefer to think of it as...extended pleasure."

Kisuke's hands tighten your hips, pulling you onto him with a sudden, brutal thrust that has you crying out in a combination with pleasure and agony. "There, does that hit the spot? Or would you like me to continue our delightful game?”

As you let out a piercing scream, Kisuke's eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense and unyielding. He doesn't break eye contact as he plunges deep, his thick length stretching you to the limit. He presses his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged but steady, as his lips curl into a faint smirk.

“Such a beautiful sound, ,Y/N he murmurs while his hips begin to move again, each thrust precise and powerful, designed to drive you wild with pleasure. His hands roam your body, fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pours all his focus into bringing you to the brink and beyond.

Kisuke’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he senses your impending climax, his eyes never leaving yours.

His hips snap forward with a particularly deep, forceful thrust as he aims to send you hurtling over the edge “Don’t hold back now… I’m enjoying the show."

Kisuke's fingers flex against your skin, his movements become more urgent, driven by the need to bring you to completion and savor the rush of your release.

Kisuke's expression shifts from playful to utterly focused, his eyes burning with intensity as he watches you unravel beneath him and for a fleeting moment, you feel the raw, unfiltered need behind his touch.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you, his own orgasm crashing over him in tandem with yours. Kisuke's hips jerk erratically as he spills deep inside you, his hot seed painting your inner walls as he rides out the aftershocks.

Kisuke’s breathing slows, but the satisfied grin on his lips remains as if permanently etched there. His blond hair falls messily over his eyes, though the sharp glint behind them remains as he leans back just enough to meet your gaze.

“Well, well… I’d say that was time well spent,” he muses, voice low and lazy, but pleased with himself. “You look like you’ve had your fill. Though, I wouldn’t mind another round of applause for my efforts.”

His words drip with a harmless humour, but there’s something softer beneath it—something he won’t name, even if you asked.

Kisuke stretches out on the couch beside you, one arm props his head up, while the other lazily draws faint shapes along the curve of your hip, like he’s absentmindedly tracing a map only he can read.

“You know,” he drawls, “for someone who claims not to trust me, you seem awfully comfortable right now. I’d almost say you like having me around.”

His gaze flickers to yours, watching for that telltale flicker of embarrassment he so dearly loves to coax out of you.

Kisuke’s chest still rises and falls against you, slow and deliberate, but there’s an alertness in his posture. He’s aware—always aware—and the slight downturn of your eyes doesn’t escape him. His fingers pause for half a second before resuming their lazy path.

“Well, you’re certainly more relaxed now,” he notes, watching you with that familiar sharpness. His hand shifts, brushing a stray lock of hair from your damp forehead, tucking it behind your ear with careful precision. “Though, if this was your master plan to seduce me, I have to say… you could’ve just asked.” Your cheeck blush at his remark

“I hate to admit but indeed i’m relaxed” Your voice carry a playful cadence, but you catch his gaze lingers too long for it to be entirely superficial. You know him well enough to recognize it—he’s watching for something.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you shoot back, though your voice lacks its usual bite. You feel raw—too exposed under his gaze. It’s unfamiliar, needing something more than teasing remarks.

Kisuke laughs softly, but there’s a subtle shift in his expression. His hand doesn’t leave your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a gentleness that feels almost foreign coming from him.

“My plan? Ohoho, I wish I could take credit for such a clever scheme,” he purrs, but the usual exaggerated flair is dialed back. “No, I just happen to be exceptionally gifted at identifying tension. And relieving it.”

His arm curls around your waist, pulling you just close enough for his nose to brush against your temple. He doesn’t press for more; the gesture is light, easy, like breathing. Kisuke smells faintly of sandalwood and something sharper—like incense that hasn’t quite burned out.

“Relax,” he murmurs against your hair, voice dropping into something softer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your body sinks into his chest almost involuntarily, and for once, Kisuke lets the silence hang between you. His fingers resume their slow path along your spine, tracing patterns that feel more like grounding than teasing.

“See?” he hums after a long pause, lips curving against the top of your head. “Much better. And you didn’t even have to buy me dinner first.”

You huff quietly against his chest, shifting enough to glare up at him, though the heat behind it doesn’t land.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Not when you make it this easy,” he replies without hesitation, flashing that trademark grin—the one that somehow manages to be both irritating and devastatingly charming in equal measure.

You bury your face against him with a muffled groan, and Kisuke’s laughter rumbles beneath your ear, quiet but genuine. His hand moves to cup the back of your head, cradling it as though the gesture requires no thought at all.

“You’re dangerous,” you murmur into his shirt, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Oh, I know,” Kisuke replies smoothly. “I’ve been told it’s part of my charm.”

You sigh, half-annoyed, half-amused—because of course he’d say that. But his hand hasn’t left your back, and the warmth pooling in your chest tells you that maybe, just maybe, he does know exactly what you need.

After a few moments, you shift slightly. “Will you walk me home?”

Kisuke hums, tilting his head to glance down at you, his eyes half-lidded but alert.

“Walk you home?” he echoes, tapping a finger against his chin as if in deep thought. “Mmm, tempting. But then I’d have to give up this incredibly comfortable spot I’ve secured for myself.”

You lift your head just enough to squint at him. “Kisuke—”

“Or…” he interrupts smoothly, lips curving as his gaze sharpens with that familiar playful glint. “You could stay the night. Much less effort. And far safer for both of us.”

You arch a brow at him. “For both of us?”

Kisuke’s grin widens, shameless. “Oh yes. I’m very fragile, you know. I’d sleep much better with you here to protect me.”

Despite yourself, a quiet chuckle escapes your lips. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He leans closer, his breath brushing your cheek. “And I promise to behave. Well… mostly.”

His smirk is impossible to resist, but something in his tone—something subtle, beneath the teasing—feels sincere enough to ease whatever lingering vulnerability lingers in your chest.

“…Alright. Thank you.”

Kisuke pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes softening as he presses a light kiss to your forehead.

“No need to thank me, darling,” he murmurs, already tugging the blanket over you both with the finesse of someone who planned this outcome all along. “Now, get comfortable. I expect payment in the form of breakfast tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes, but your body presses closer all the same, the comfort of his presence settling over you like second nature.

“Fine. But I’m not making you anything fancy.”

Kisuke cackles softly, tucking you against him with ease.

“That’s alright,” he replies, lips grazing your temple one last time. “You’re all the sweetness I need.”

another smut with bleach

aizenxuraharaxreader

aizenxreader

a small appreciation for: @apocalypsesushi-chan

[itendtothinkalot]

beomgyu!spiderman au (part 2)

summary: just a few scenarios of how it would be like having beomgyu!spiderman as ur bf

genre: fluff

characters: beomgyu!spiderman x f!reader

words: 3.5

a/n: i wasn't done

warnings: danger! knives! guns!

part 1!

Your boyfriend was Spider-Man. The Spider-Man. The one who kept your little town safe, who swung through the streets like a silent guardian, leaving behind ripples of hope. The one who, despite the weight of a city on his shoulders, always stopped to lend a hand to anyone who needed it.

Just the other day, your grandma couldn’t stop talking about him.

“Oh, what a fine young man,” she said, eyes sparkling as she recounted the story for the third time. “He helped me cross the road and even carried my groceries all the way home!”

You had laughed softly then, a knowing kind of laugh. Because you knew the truth. You knew he wasn’t just helping some random sweet old lady—he had helped her because she was your grandma.

But the thought lingered longer than you expected. There was something deeply personal about knowing that Spider-Man, the hero everyone adored, was yours. That he went out of his way for the people you loved. That even in the midst of saving the world—or at least this small corner of it—he still remembered the little things.

It warmed your heart, but it ached too. How could one person carry so much? The city adored Spider-Man, but they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t see the bruises he came home with or the weight he carried in the slump of his shoulders when no one was watching. They didn’t hear the way his voice cracked when he confessed how hard it was to keep everyone safe—how much he wished he could do more.

“You’re doing fine,” you murmured against Beomgyu’s neck, your voice low, trying to be supportive.. “You have to stop thinking that you owe the world everything. You don’t, Gyu. You really don’t.” Your arms tightened around him slightly, hoping that this small gesture, this closeness, could carry what words couldn’t.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body held itself too tightly, like a coiled spring. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper.

“I almost got Soobin hurt the other day.”

You froze, pulling back just enough to look at him. “What?”

He wasn’t meeting your eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the wall behind you, as though staring into some memory he couldn’t shake. “Someone was following me. I–I didn’t even know. I don’t know how I didn’t know, but I didn’t—”

“Don’t you have those tingles? Like, when something bad’s about to happen?” Your voice rose slightly, more out of disbelief than anger. “What’s it called again?”

“Spidey senses,” he said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.

“Right.”

He nodded, exhaling shakily. “Which is why this freaked me out so much. They followed me. Back to school.”

You felt your stomach drop. “Our school?”

He sighed, his hand coming up to drag down his face. “It was the day of the test. I guess my anxiety just… I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t even realize they’d been trailing me until it was too late. And then…” His voice cracked, and for a moment, you thought he might stop altogether.

“And then what, Gyu?” you pressed, your own heart racing now.

“Soobin,” he said, his voice trembling. “He was there. He was just…waving down to me, you know? Trying to make sure no one else saw me. But they did see him. They saw him.”

Your breath hitched as you imagined the scene. Soobin, his usual warm and carefree self, unknowingly stepping into danger just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“God, Gyu…” You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. He finally looked at you then, his dark eyes full of guilt, fear, and something raw you couldn’t quite name.

“I can’t let that happen again,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered. “I can’t let someone I care about get hurt because of me. Because of this.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening. “No one got hurt. Soobin’s fine. You’re fine. But, Gyu, you can’t keep carrying this on your own. You don’t have to. Please…”

He didn’t respond, but the way his hand clung to yours told you everything. For now, it would have to be enough. But in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over—not for him, not for either of you.

—

Beomgyu, the neighborhood’s ever-friendly superhero, had always been the happy-go-lucky guy at school—the one who cracked jokes even during exams and smiled at everyone in the halls. But lately, everything felt heavier. The shadows felt closer, and the weight of his secret life seemed to press down on him more than ever. No one really noticed the change, not at school, not in the streets where he swung between buildings. But he felt it.

Lost in thought, replaying every close call, every mistake, Beomgyu didn’t even notice the bird heading straight for him until—

“AUUUGH!”

The collision sent him tumbling through the air, momentum completely lost. He flailed helplessly before crashing down five levels and landing, with an undignified thud, in a dumpster.

“Dang,” he groaned, clutching his ribs as he tried to sit up. The stench was an assault on his senses, but at least the garbage had cushioned his fall. Small blessings, right?

He barely had a second to regain his bearings before he froze, realizing he wasn’t alone. Two figures loomed over him, their faces obscured by ski masks. Guns peeked out from behind their backs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” one of them muttered, staring down at the very superhero who had been tailing them for weeks.

Beomgyu blinked up at them, then sighed. “What a night,” he muttered before pulling on a smirk under his mask. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Are we heading to some kind of costume party, fellas? I wasn’t invited—kind of hurtful, honestly.”

The guy on the left swore under his breath, visibly rattled as he yanked a gun from behind his back and aimed it at Beomgyu.

“Ooh, wrong move there, buddy.” Beomgyu didn’t even flinch. A second later, a sharp thwip echoed through the alley as his web shooter activated, yanking the gun from the man’s grip and sending it clattering to the ground. In a single, fluid motion, Beomgyu swung up and ensnared the guy in a sticky cocoon of webbing.

“C’mon,” he teased, landing lightly on the ground. “We could’ve gone to the party together. I’ve got a killer mask, and I hear ski masks are making a comeback.”

“He’s fucking with us,” the second guy growled, pulling his gun and advancing.

Beomgyu tilted his head. “I mean, yeah. What’s the point of doing this gig if I can’t have a little fun?”

The second guy lunged, but Beomgyu was faster. Another flick of his wrist sent a web shooting out, pinning the man’s arm to the nearest wall. He struggled, growling like a trapped animal, but it was no use.

“Pro tip,” Beomgyu said, perching casually on a nearby railing. “If you’re going to pull off some shady back-alley operation, maybe avoid the guy who just fell out of the sky. Statistically, probably not your night.”

Both men glared daggers at him, though their predicament made it more comical than intimidating.

“Anyway,” Beomgyu continued, hopping down and dusting himself off, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have homework to procrastinate on, so…” He shot another web, this time connecting the two robbers together like a makeshift package. “Consider this a group bonding exercise. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

As the distant sound of police sirens began to echo through the alley, Beomgyu gave them a mock salute before swinging away, muttering to himself.

“God, I need to start watching out for birds.”

—

Your head rested heavily on the table in your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp doing little to soothe the mounting frustration. The math homework in front of you blurred together into incomprehensible scribbles. You groaned aloud. Where was your genius boyfriend when you needed him? He’d promised to help with at least half of these impossible questions.

A sharp knock on your apartment window jolted you upright, a scream escaping your lips. It wasn’t a small sound either—it was the full-on, “I’m being murdered” kind of scream. To be fair, you lived on the 14th floor, and unexpected visitors weren’t exactly common.

When you turned, your heart still racing, there he was. Red and blue spandex clinging to him like a second skin, mask slightly crooked, and an unapologetic grin plastered beneath it. You sighed, pressing a hand to your chest.

“Geez, Gyu,” you said, walking over to unlock the window. “You need to start giving me some warning. I could’ve died from a heart attack.”

He slipped inside with practiced ease, his suit slightly scuffed but still intact. “Sorry,” he chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll work on my window etiquette.”

As he adjusted his gloves, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Y’know…” you began, leaning against your desk and giving him an exaggerated once-over, “I kinda get why girls like this whole superhero thing.”

“Oh?” he teased, pulling off one glove and flexing his fingers. “And why’s that?”

“Well, you can kinda see everything,” you said with a wicked grin, poking at the firm outline of his abs. “Like, literally everything.”

Beomgyu groaned, swatting your hand away. “Great. I gotta talk to Mr. Kang about some suit upgrades. Hopefully, that includes censorship.”

“Even from me?” you teased.

“Especially from you,” he quipped before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. His lips lingered for a moment longer than usual, his way of apologizing for being late.

“Sorry,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I kinda swung into a bird, fell into a dumpster, and got two guys arrested. You know, just another Tuesday.”

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed and incredulous. “You swung into a bird?”

“It’s a long story,” he laughed, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Anyway, which page are you on?”

“Uh…” you trailed off, a bit sheepishly. “Still the second page.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Second? You’ve been at this for hours.”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Math isn’t exactly my strong suit. It’s yours.”

“Alright, alright.” He grinned, pulling out the chair beside you and plopping down with an exaggerated groan. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

As he adjusted himself to get comfortable, Beomgyu tugged at his mask, lifting it ever so slowly. Your eyes were glued to him, watching as the fabric revealed his face inch by inch. His messy, shaggy hair flopped into his eyes, the slight sheen of sweat only making him look more effortlessly perfect.

You hated to admit it, but every time Beomgyu pulled off that mask, something inside you… shifted. Maybe it was the way his sharp features softened when he smiled at you. Or the way his hair always seemed to look even better messy. Whatever it was, it made your heart do cartwheels.

He caught you staring, of course, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. “What?” he asked, leaning in closer.

“Nothing,” you lied, quickly turning back to your textbook. “Just… hurry up and help me before I fail this assignment.”

“Sure, sure.” Beomgyu chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “But you’re staring at me like I’m the homework you’re trying to solve.”

You flushed, shoving him lightly. “Shut up and teach me algebra, Spider-Boy.”

—

It had barely been ten minutes since school started, but the routine was already in full swing. You and Soobin had a well-rehearsed system for dealing with Beomgyu's inevitable late arrivals, thanks to his extracurricular Spider-Man responsibilities.

You called yourselves Team Spider-Man. It wasn’t a title you chose willingly, but you had to admit it had a nice ring to it. Unfortunately, being the newest member came with its fair share of grievances—like finding out Soobin had been in on the secret way before you.

“So, let me get this straight. This idiot knew before me?” you had demanded, months ago, glaring at both of them like they were the absolute bane of your existence.

“Well, I was at home waiting for him, and… my aunt let him in,” Beomgyu had explained with a wince. “I climbed on the ceiling, and he saw me. What was I supposed to do, pretend I wasn’t there?”

Needless to say, you weren’t over it.

Now, as you sat in class with Soobin, the two of you brainstorming yet another excuse for Beomgyu’s tardiness, the absurdity of the situation almost made you laugh. Almost.

“So,” Soobin began, tapping his pencil against his desk, “diarrhoea excuse? We haven’t used that one in a while.”

You shot him a look. “Seriously? He’s my boyfriend now, Soobin. My reputation is kind of on the line here too, you know.”

“Oh, please,” Soobin snorted. “As if anything could tarnish his already perfect reputation.”

You hated to admit it, but he had a point. Beomgyu wasn’t just well-liked—he was practically a school legend. Teachers adored him. Students gravitated toward him. Even the custodian always waved at him with a fond smile. It was infuriating. (You just didn’t want to admit that you had to share him with well, everyone else.)

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement outside the classroom window. There he was, crouched behind a tree in his unmistakable red and blue suit, though the white gym shirt thrown on top of it was… new.

Your phone buzzed.

Beomgyu: Friday, send message. You: What? Beomgyu: Don’t send message. Send message. Beomgyu: DAMN IT FRIDAY. Beomgyu: I mean send message—I forgot pants. I have no pants. Send message.

You stared at the screen, barely holding back a laugh.

You: You don’t have an extra pair of pants?

Soobin: Well, this does tie in nicely with the diarrhoea excuse.

You snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

Beomgyu: Wait, wait, wait! Are you saying the teachers think I’ve had diarrhoea this whole time? Is that why Mrs. Lee asked if I was okay two nights ago at the store?

Soobin: That’s why Mrs. Lee probably bought you a whole bottle of Pedialyte. You: Just stay put. I’ll grab you some pants. Beomgyu: You’re the best. Also, don’t let Soobin talk to the teachers anymore.

You sighed, glancing at Soobin, who was now snickering into his notebook. Sometimes, being part of Team Spider-Man felt more like babysitting a group of overgrown toddlers.

—

The three of you were crammed into the corner booth of the diner you occasionally visited, the one with sticky menus and the best milkshakes in town. The warm hum of conversation and clatter of dishes filled the air, but none of it distracted you from Soobin’s next words.

“Hey,” Soobin started, far too casually, as he leaned back in his seat. “Isn’t that the guy you said was cute?” He gestured—not subtly—toward the waiter, the one you had offhandedly mentioned finding attractive months ago, long before Beomgyu was even a consideration in your love life.

Your heart dropped. “What?” You shot Soobin a warning look, kicking him lightly under the table. “No. Absolutely not.”

“No, you definitely did!” Soobin grinned, ignoring the daggers you were shooting at him. “I remember it clearly because he was carrying that JJK keychain on his–”

“Choi Soobin.” Your voice was low, a deadly whisper, as you glared at him, teeth gritted.

Beomgyu, who had been happily sipping his milkshake until that very moment, set it down with deliberate slowness. His lips twitched, the kind of expression that meant trouble. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “So…” he drawled, voice teasing but edged with curiosity. “The waiter, huh?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This was before we started dating!” You said defensively, looking up at Beomgyu with wide eyes. “Way before. Ancient history. Irrelevant.”

Beomgyu tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And where was I during all this?”

“How would I know?!” You threw your hands up.

Soobin, who was clearly having the time of his life, leaned in conspiratorially, voice just low enough to sound like he was helping. “It was the day you were over at Mr. Kang’s office.”

Beomgyu’s brows shot up in mock realization, and you immediately regretted ever confiding in Soobin about anything.

“Mr. Kang’s office, huh?” Beomgyu repeated, turning his gaze back to you. “So while I was working on tech to save the city, you were out here scouting waiters?”

“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands again, your cheeks burning. “It wasn’t like that!”

Beomgyu smirked, reaching over to flick a fry at Soobin, who was now laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the booth. “Remind me to block this guy’s number,” Beomgyu teased.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, hiding your face behind the menu.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Beomgyu said, leaning closer, his voice dropping low just for you, “I’m cuter.”

You peeked out from behind the menu, your lips twitching despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. “Debatable.”

—

Beomgyu was excited. It had been days—no, weeks—since he’d had time alone with you. Between school and his Spider-Man duties, quality time with you had become rare. Especially since Soobin was usually a third wheel, even on your study dates.

He swung through the city, doing a final sweep before heading to your house. “Well, isn’t Seoul just so safe today, all thanks to me,” he muttered to himself, breaking into a little moonwalk mid-swing.

But he spoke too soon.

A chilling scream echoed in his ears.

A scream too close to home.

A scream from near your apartment.

“BEOM–GYUAAA!”

His blood ran cold.

Without wasting another second, he swung towards the sound, heart pounding in his chest. As he neared, the scene came into view—you, clutching your bag, screaming as you struggled against a thief.

His heart dropped.

He never expected to see you in harm’s way. A wave of guilt and terror swept over him, gnawing at his insides. He felt terrible.

Beomgyu's heart raced as he swung toward the sound of your voice. The scream—your scream—kept echoing in his head, shaking him to his core. He'd handled countless situations like this before, but this was different. This was you.

The thief yanked at your bag, his grip tightening as you refused to let go. Beomgyu could see the fear in your eyes, even from a distance, and his blood boiled. But fear wasn’t an option now. He had to act quickly—and smartly.

Clinging to the side of the building just above the alleyway, Beomgyu scanned the situation. The thief was armed, a glinting knife in his free hand. Too close for comfort. One wrong move and—no, don’t think about that, he told himself.

“Hey, buddy,” Beomgyu called out, voice steady but sharp, “how about you pick on someone your own size?”

The thief froze, glancing around wildly until he spotted Beomgyu perched above him. “What the–”

Before the thief could finish, Beomgyu leapt down, landing behind him. His sudden appearance startled the man enough to loosen his grip on your bag. You took the chance to stumble back, clutching it tightly to your chest.

“Stay back,” Beomgyu said, his voice low and commanding as he positioned himself between you and the thief. “Unless you wanna find out how this web feels up your ass.”

The thief lunged with the knife, but Beomgyu was faster. With a flick of his wrist, a web shot out, sticking the knife to the wall. The thief panicked, trying to run, but Beomgyu had already shot another web, trapping him against a lamppost.

“Okay, now you just hang tight, buddy” Beomgyu said, brushing his hands off dramatically. “Police will be here any minute. And by the way, knives? Seriously?”

With the danger neutralized, Beomgyu turned to you, his voice laced with worry, even through the mask. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head, though your hands trembled, and tears pooled in your eyes as the adrenaline coursing through your body began to subside. “I-I’m fine,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his shoulders visibly relaxing now that he knew you were unharmed. He stepped closer, his gloved hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, his usual playful tone replaced by something tender. He leaned in slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours.

You sniffled, a faint smile breaking through the tears as you raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure…you’re gonna kiss me in public, Mr. Spider-Man?”

Beomgyu froze, his masked face tilting in realization. “Oh. Right.” He quickly straightened up, clearing his throat. “You’re safe, citizen! You may now go home!” he announced dramatically, his hands moving to his hips in mock superhero fashion.

“Thank you, Mr. Spider-Man,” you replied, unable to hold back your laughter, though your voice still wavered with lingering emotion.

Beomgyu winked—or at least you thought he did—before muttering under his breath as he turned to leave, “You're not gonna let this go, aren't you?

You shook your head.

-

part 1!

[mint-flavoredd]

Y’all I crave more competitive Stolitz dynamics-

Also I missed drawing my Spy x family / Helluva Boss AU😔

At 0:23 is the vibe I get from thiss

Some fun extra quickly written lore behind Card Night.

Blitzø considered himself to be pretty good at playing cards. He used to play a bit in college, never losing a game of strip poker or any sort of drinking game that relied on cards. Sure, he’d maybe loose once or twice in a row, but never took it personally, eventually you’d get lucky. But that was before he played against Stolas.

The first time he played and lost against him, he didn’t think much of it. Second time, whatever. Third time, luck of the draw. Fourth time was when Stolas beat him in under 5 minutes of starting the game. Blitzø claimed he had cheated, and Stolas got offended that he thought he would go to such measures to beat someone who he claimed was ‘mediocre at best.’ And Blitzø being petty, called Moxxie over and made him look over both of their shoulders to watch if they would cheat. Stolas was more than happy to prove he was innocent, especially since it was almost entertaining to see Blitzø get reiled up over something as silly as a card game.

In the end, he, in fact, did not cheat. They sent Moxxie home after three straight hours of card games.

Before they went in their separate bedrooms, Stolas stopped the shorter man, leaning down to get eye level with him, with that same competitive smile he grew to have earlier. “Just so you are aware.. it would have done you better if you had cheated, because it would’ve actually given you a chance at besting me~”

Now Stolas usually wasn’t that egotistical about his skills, especially not over something like this. But the way this man became so determined to beat him in just one card game, it made it all the more enticing to poke the bear.

And this exact moment is why Blitzø takes each loss personally against Stolas. They had to limit how many games they play each night, because they only get more and more competitive the longer they play. Blitzø getting progressively more irritated, shouting and threatening Stolas not to play a card he knows he is about to play, while Stolas continuously taunts him, each one getting progressively less subtle than the last.

Yes, they have gotten violent.

Yes, they are each other’s favorite person to play cards with.

And yes, Octavia doesn’t know that how her dads play cards isn’t normal.

[alewritesfics]

Bridging Realities

ℑ𝔙. 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤..... 𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: unedited, slow burn, eventual smut/ spicy scenes, some angst but happy ending, playful banter

⏮️                ⏸️                  ⏭️

The morning sun streamed through the windows of the Featherington estate, casting a golden glow over the lively preparations for the day ahead. You were seated at your vanity, Varley fussing over your hair with more vigor than necessary, muttering about how even a race required proper presentation. You nodded absently, your mind far from the conversation—or even the impending event.

You were dressed already, the soft, pastel blue gown fitting you comfortably as you stood and moved toward the window. You still wonder how on earth you got port- mama, to agree to buy new dresses and with different colors this time, although you think it mostly has to do with the arrival of the new featherington lord and how it meant that they no longer needed to worry about money much.

The bustle of the household faded as you leaned against the frame, gazing out at the beautiful house across the street, in which you could swear you see movement in.

It should’ve been a simple day—a moment to enjoy the festivities, the thrill of the race, and the chatter of the crowd. And yet, the weight of your thoughts anchored you in place.

The question swirled relentlessly in your mind. What do you do next?

The story you knew so well—the love story of Kate and Anthony—was already beginning to take shape. You’d seen the tension between them last night, the sharp glances, the lingering stares. You knew the moments that were meant to happen next.

But at what cost? Edwina’s heartbreak? Anthony’s stubbornness that was the whole reason people got hurt in the first place? Was it even your place to intervene? A few days ago you didn’t even exist in this world, so how could you?

Your gaze drifted to the bright sky, searching for clarity. And yet, another thought began to creep in, unbidden but persistent.

What if you didn’t step aside?

What if you let yourself want something—long for someone—for once? Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t just a name on a page, or a face in a show anymore. He was a man, flesh and blood, with flaws and feelings. And you… you weren’t just a bystander that dreamed to be in a love story like his. Not anymore.

Your fingers tightened on the windowsill as your heart warred with itself. To let the story unfold as it always had or to take a leap into the unknown, to risk selfishness for the chance at something real.

And then again, maybe you were meant to change things? Why on earth would the universe transport you into the world you’ve always dreamed of if you weren’t meant to?

“Miss Y/N?” Varley’s voice broke through your reverie, startling you. “The carriage will be ready soon. We mustn’t keep the others waiting.”

You straightened, smoothing the fabric of your gown as you turned back to the room. “Of course, Varley,” you said, your tone steady even as your thoughts churned.

As you left the room, you resolved one thing: Today, at the races, you would make a choice. Whether to follow the script you knew so well or to write a story of your own.

“Why did I have to accompany you?” you asked as you walked behind Penelope as she entered the drawing room of the Bridgerton house

She ignored your words, approaching Eloise from behind “Is that a copy of Lady Whistledown?” Penelope asked

“It is” Eloise answered, putting down the paper

“I thought we were done with her” Penelope said

“Do not discourage her, Penelope” Lady Bridgerton said “If she has taken an interest in Lady Whistledown again, perhaps it means she’s interested in what she has to say about the season’s available gentlemen too” She turned towards her daughter

You chuckled, swallowing down your nerves as you approached her mother “If Eloise has anything to say about it, Lady Bridgerton, then no” You said

“See, even Y/n gets me” Eloise huffed, turning to face Penelope

You smiled, looking at what you hope will be your future mother in law “Lady Bridgerton,” you greeted

She stopped her embroidery, looking up at you with a smile “Y/n, dear, it has been a long time since you’ve visited” Violet said

You blinked before you realized that perhaps you had or well, the past Y/n Featherington had visited the Bridgerton home before with Penelope.

“Yes, it has been” you nodded before sitting on the chair next to her “artist Bridgerton brother,” you greeted Benedict with a smile

He chuckled “still calling me by that, poet Featherington sister?” He teased back

You looked at him lost “Poet?” you said confused

“yeah,” he brought down his sketchbook “Don’t you remember when you recited on and on about the color of Anthony’s hair, his mesmerizing eyes?”

What?

“Oh, yes, I remember that as well” Lady Bridgerton chuckled “It was sweet seeing how enamored you were with Anthony when you were little, of course, it never went far as you were only three and ten years old when you decided you wanted to marry Anthony and he was well off into adulthood”

Your face froze as Lady Beidgerton’s words sank in, your heart skipping a beat. What?! You laughed nervously, trying to mask your shock. “I—well, I suppose teenage girls are prone to fanciful ideas, are they not?”

“Fanciful indeed,” Violet said, smiling warmly. “Though, I must admit, it was endearing. You followed him about during those visits, asking the most peculiar questions about the responsibilities of a viscount. You were so earnest, poor Anthony didn’t know what to do with you!”

Benedict smirked. “Oh, he certainly knew what to do—run off to the study and hide.”

“Benedict!” Violet scolded lightly, though her tone was still amused.

You felt your cheeks heat, and for a moment, you were lost for words. Of course, the past you would have been a lovestruck teenager, completely unaware of what that might mean for your interactions now.

You cleared your throat, your mind racing as you tried to compose yourself. “I assure you, I’ve outgrown such girlish infatuations. Besides, Anthony and I have hardly spoken more than a few words to each other recently.”

“Oh, but that could change,” Violet said, her tone light but laden with meaning. “Anthony needs a steady hand, someone with wit and charm to keep him grounded.”

Benedict leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow at you knowingly. “And who better to manage his chaos than someone who once planned her entire future around him?”

You shot him a pointed look, though your lips twitched upward in a small, reluctant smile. “I believe we’re getting far ahead of ourselves.”

“Perhaps,” Violet said with a conspiratorial glint in her eye, “but it’s always nice to see old friends rekindle a connection.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, the weight of their playful remarks mingling with your own uncertainty. You had come here prepared to make a choice, but now it seemed as though fate—or the Bridgertons—was nudging you toward one particular path.

“I believe we were never friends, Lady Bridgerton, it was just a childish infatuation on my part,” you say “I believe Anthony has his eyes set elsewhere right now”

Violet raised an eyebrow at your comment, her expression thoughtful. “Perhaps, but you’d be surprised how easily one’s eyes can be redirected when the right person is in view.”

Benedict chuckled, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Oh, this is far more entertaining than I anticipated. Please, do carry on.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was beating faster than ever. “I assure you, Benedict, there is nothing to carry on about. Anthony and I barely speak, and whatever childish notions I had are long gone.”

“C-colin!” you heard Penelope exclaim, You stood up as the rest of the bridgertons embraced the newly arrived Colin, watching with a smile as they greeted him

“And where, may I ask, is our intrepid viscount?” Colin asked looking around his family

“He is-“ Anthony stepped into view as Lady Bridgerton spoke “back from courting already”

“Colin, you are back, even better” Anthony said as he saw Colin “Family, I would like you all to-“ his eyes met yours, making him go silent

“Y/n…” he spoke “i-I did not know you were here”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, Anthony cleared his throat, his eyes leaving yours “i-I would like you all to ready yourselves for the races today, we will be attending united as one” He finished saying to his family

You stayed next to him as his family went off to get ready “I’ll be there in a bit” you say to Pen as she looked at you expecting to leave, she nodded before she left the room

Your eyes flickered back towards Anthony, finding him looking at you, you smirked “You’ll escort me to the races, won’t you?” you say boldly, having decided to not step aside and instead make your own choices.

Anthony’s eyebrows furrowed at your boldness, his usual composed demeanor slipping ever so slightly. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly weighing his response.

For a moment, the silence between you stretched thin, and you could see the flicker of hesitation in his dark eyes. His gaze shifted briefly toward the door, as though calculating his options.

“I… had intended to accompany my family today as a united front,” he said carefully, his voice measured. “There are certain… expectations that must be upheld.”

You raised an eyebrow, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Expectations?” you repeated. “Anthony, are you saying that escorting me would somehow disrupt your plans?”

His jaw tightened, and he glanced away, his reluctance palpable. “Not disrupt,” he clarified, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. “It’s simply that…” He trailed off, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Ah. So this was about Edwina. You felt the pieces fall into place with startling clarity. Kate’s refusal to let him court her sister must have spurred Anthony into finding another way to gain the Sharma family’s favor—an approach steeped in duty and strategy, as expected of a viscount.

But you weren’t about to make it easy for him. Especially not after what you had decided and you’d be damned if you were losing without a fight.

“Anthony,” you said, stepping closer so that he couldn’t avoid your gaze. “If your goal is to show yourself as a responsible, family-oriented man, what better way than to escort an old family friend?” You let your tone turn teasing, though your eyes stayed sharp.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you thought he might refuse outright. Then, with a soft sigh, he turned back to you. “You do have a way of making things sound entirely reasonable,” he admitted, though his tone lacked its usual confidence.

You smiled triumphantly, slipping your hand into the crook of his arm. “Then it’s settled,” you said brightly. “We’ll make quite the impression, won’t we?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flickering briefly toward the door again, as though still calculating his options. But then, he nodded, his movements stiff but resigned. “It would seem so,” he said finally.

As you walked together toward the carriages, you could feel the weight of his hesitation lingering between you. Anthony Bridgerton was a man bound by duty and logic, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface—a conflict he hadn’t yet resolved.

But that was fine. You weren’t looking for perfection. You were looking for an opportunity to remind him that life didn’t always need to be dictated by duty and expectations. If you were rewriting this story, you weren’t afraid to challenge the characters along the way.

Even if one of those characters was the man you’d been dreaming of for years.

You smiled, satisfied with his answer—for now. Today was only the beginning, after all. If you were going to rewrite the story, you intended to do so on your own terms. And Anthony Bridgerton? Well, he would simply have to keep up.

You looked around the field filled with people with a smile, the sound of horses galloping resounding nearby. Your eyes searched for any familiar face nearby but hard to see with so many people around.

You turned back to look at the man beside you, his eyes searching as well. You held back a scoff as you knew why, “Whatever plan you had for today, it would have only ended up hurting people” You stated, looking back at the field.

Anthony turned to look at you, your arm intertwined between his “What do you mean?” he feigned innocence

You looked at him once again “You mean to tell me you didn’t plan on elaborating a grand scheme so the eldest Sharma would leave you alone with Miss Edwina?”

Anthony’s gaze narrowed slightly, though there was no malice in it. “And what, pray tell, do you think I’m planning?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” you said, glancing toward the arriving carriages. “You intend to use today to make a grand show of your family’s unity and charm, all to prove to the Sharmas that you’re the perfect match for Edwina. Am I close?” You didn’t want to mention his plan to get Thomas Dorset to woo Kate.

His silence was answer enough.

You sighed, releasing his arm as you turned to face him fully. “Anthony, I know you mean well, but this… performance? It’s not going to end the way you hope it will.”

He frowned, his jaw tightening. “And why is that?”

“Because you’re not being honest with yourself,” you said simply. “About what you want.”

His expression darkened, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “I am entirely aware of what I want,” he said stiffly.

“Are you?” you challenged, stepping closer. “Because it seems to me you’re more concerned with what you think you should want. There’s a difference, Anthony, and if you don’t figure it out soon, you’re going to hurt a lot of people—including yourself.”

The words hung heavy in the air between you, his gaze locked on yours as if trying to decipher your meaning. For a moment, you thought he might push you away, dismiss you like he did everyone who dared to question him.

But then he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You make it sound so simple,” he said quietly.

“It’s not,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “But it’s worth it.”

Anthony’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you. Then, with a subtle nod, he extended his arm to you once more. “Shall we?”

You smiled, slipping your arm back into his. “Lead the way, Lord Bridgerton.”

As you walked toward the crowd, the weight of your words seemed to settle on him, though he said nothing more. But you could feel it in the way he held himself, in the quiet moments of hesitation that punctuated his otherwise confident demeanor.

“You should let things flow the way they’re supposed to,” you pat his arm “If there are things impeding you to court Miss Edwina…..perhaps you should give up” you say selfishly

Anthony glanced at you, his brows knitting together as he processed your words. “Give up?” he repeated, his tone skeptical. “You would have me surrender so easily?”

You met his gaze steadily, though your heart raced at your boldness. “Not easily, Anthony. But if you’re only pursuing her because you think it’s the right thing to do, rather than what you truly want, then yes. Why waste your time—and hers—on something that isn’t real?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d pushed too far. But then he sighed, the tension in his features softening ever so slightly. “You speak as though you know my heart better than I do.”

“Perhaps I do,” you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Or perhaps I just see things more clearly because I’m not the one caught in the middle of it.”

Anthony didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting to the lively crowd ahead of you. The sounds of laughter, conversation, and the occasional cheer for a victorious horse filled the air. You could see his family mingling in the distance, their bright smiles a sharp contrast to the weight of the conversation between you.

“And what about you?” he asked finally, his voice quieter now. “You speak of honesty, yet you remain shrouded in mystery. What is it that you truly want?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you faltered. How could you explain the tangled web of emotions and desires that had brought you to this point? How could you tell him that you weren’t just another Featherington, but someone who had seen his story unfold in ways he couldn’t possibly understand?

“I…” You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the ground. “I want to live a life that feels real. Not one dictated by expectations or duty, but one where I can make my own choices. Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

Anthony studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a faint smile, he shook his head. “You’re a peculiar woman, Y/N Featherington.”

You laughed softly, the sound tinged with relief. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” You looked at him “Besides…. I’m already fighting for what I want” there was something unreadable in your eyes as you looked at him

Anthony’s smile faltered ever so slightly as your words hung in the air, their weight settling between you like an unspoken challenge. His dark eyes flickered over your face, searching for something—clarity, perhaps, or reassurance—but all he found was a quiet determination that seemed to unnerve him.

“Fighting for what you want?” he repeated, his voice careful, measured. “And what is it, exactly, that you want, Miss Featherington?”

You tilted your head slightly, the faintest hint of a smirk gracing your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The teasing lilt in your voice did little to ease the tension that had crept into the conversation. Anthony’s hand shifted subtly where it rested on yours, as though he were considering letting go. His usual air of control seemed to waver, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something unfamiliar in his expression—unease, perhaps, or uncertainty.

“Miss Featherington,” he began, his tone carrying the weight of a man accustomed to steering conversations in his favor, “it is not often I find myself at a loss for words, but you seem intent on ensuring I remain so today.”

You chuckled softly, though your gaze remained steady on his. “Perhaps that’s because you’re not used to being challenged, my lord.”

Anthony’s brows furrowed, and he looked away briefly, his gaze scanning the crowd as if seeking an escape. When he looked back at you, his composure was intact once more, though there was a faint crease in his brow that betrayed his lingering nervousness.

“You speak with remarkable confidence,” he said, his voice cooler now, as though attempting to regain the upper hand. “But confidence can be a dangerous thing when wielded carelessly.”

“Only to those unprepared to face it,” you countered smoothly, the edge in your tone softened by a smile. “But don’t worry, Lord Bridgerton. I have no intention of unsettling you—too much, at least.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze dropping briefly to the ground before meeting yours again. “You have an uncanny ability to make a man question himself,” he admitted, his voice low. “I wonder if that is your intention.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “And if it were?”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions neither of you dared to name. Finally, he let out a quiet sigh.

“Then I suppose I must brace myself,” he said, his tone laced with reluctant amusement.

You smiled, your grip on his arm tightening ever so slightly. “Good. You’ll need it.” You say “Just like you’ll need it when I say that High Flyer will be the winner today and the horse you bet on, Nectar, will not” you smirk

Anthony stopped in his tracks, turning his head to look at you with an expression of mild disbelief. His brows arched, and for a moment, his usual composed demeanor gave way to something closer to exasperation.

“You’re challenging my judgment on horses now?” he asked, his tone laced with incredulity.

“Perhaps,” you replied breezily, your smirk widening. “High Flyer has a higher chance to win, the track is soft and hot thus Nectar will have a great disadvantage as he’s not as swifter and lighter as High Flyer. A rather unfortunate trait for a racehorse, wouldn’t you agree?” you use your knowledge of this episode

Anthony blinked at you, his lips parting slightly as he processed your words. “You’ve been studying the horses?”

“Is that so surprising?” you teased, tilting your head. “I’m merely preparing for the inevitable moment when you’ll have to admit I was right.”

His gaze narrowed, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now. “You’re rather confident for someone who has yet to see the race.”

“Confidence, as you’ve pointed out, can be a dangerous thing,” you said, echoing his earlier words with a mischievous glint in your eye. “But I’m willing to take my chances.”

Anthony shook his head, though he couldn’t entirely suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Very well, Miss Featherington. If you’re so certain of your prediction, perhaps we should make this more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Are you proposing a wager, Lord Bridgerton?”

“I am,” he said, his voice gaining a touch of his usual commanding confidence. “If High Flyer wins, I will publicly admit my error—and you may choose a forfeit for me, within reason.”

“And if Nectar wins?” you asked, folding your arms as you regarded him with playful suspicion.

He looked in thought for a minute “Then you will meet me tomorrow morning when you come to my home with your sister” he said smoothly, his gaze steady on yours. “Just the two of us. No Penelope. No excuses.”

The boldness of his proposal took you by surprise, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words, feeling your breath catch in your throat. But then you smiled, the thrill of the challenge sparking in your chest.

“Very well, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, extending your hand to him. “You have yourself a wager.”

He clasped your hand, his grip firm and warm. “Then may the best horse—and the best gambler—win.”

As the two of you continued toward the racetrack, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of exhilaration. This wasn’t just a wager; it was a game, a dance, a challenge—and neither of you intended to back down.

“You were saying?” you turned to look at the viscount smug as High Flyer won first place in the race

Anthony’s expression was unreadable at first, his gaze fixed on the racetrack where High Flyer had just thundered across the finish line. The crowd erupted into cheers, but the Viscount’s focus remained solely on you.

“I believe I was saying something about confidence,” he murmured, though there was a faint edge of resignation in his voice. His eyes flicked back to yours, narrowing slightly at the smug smile that curved your lips.

“You were,” you said, tilting your head. “Something about it being dangerous, wasn’t it? It seems my confidence wasn’t misplaced after all.”

Anthony exhaled sharply, though you couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sigh of defeat. “It seems not,” he conceded, his tone reluctant. “I suppose I owe you my public admission of error.”

“Oh, there’s no need for dramatics, my lord,” you said, feigning modesty. “A simple acknowledgment that I was right will suffice.”

He arched a brow, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he were fighting a smile. “Very well,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “Miss Featherington, you were right. High Flyer was indeed the better horse today.”

Your grin widened, your victory made all the sweeter by his reluctant but good-natured capitulation. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

He stepped closer, his voice lowering so that only you could hear. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” he said, his tone teasing yet laced with something deeper, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Perhaps,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a glint of mischief. “But don’t forget—this means you’ll have to endure my chosen forfeit.”

Anthony’s smile finally broke free, a rare and genuine thing that made your heart skip a beat. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said. “And I’ll face it with as much grace as I can muster.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the lively crowd around you fading into the background. There was a spark between you, unspoken but undeniable, a sense that this was more than just a game.

“Well then,” you said, breaking the spell. “I look forward to seeing how well you handle it, my lord.”

Anthony chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “And I, Miss Featherington, look forward to our morning meeting—when Nectar’s loss will no longer matter.”

His words left you breathless, your retort caught in your throat as he offered you his arm once more. “Uh, you lost, how is the meeting still in place when I won?” you asked

Anthony smirked, his expression that of a man who had been waiting for this exact question. “Ah,” he said, his tone deceptively casual, “but the terms of our wager never explicitly stated that the meeting would be void if High Flyer won. I simply said I would admit my error. And I did.”

Your eyes narrowed, your hand tightening slightly on his arm. “That’s not how wagers work, Lord Bridgerton,” you countered, though there was a flicker of amusement in your tone. “You can’t twist the terms to suit your convenience.”

“Twisting?” he echoed, his smirk growing. “Not at all. I am merely exercising the same cleverness you demonstrated in predicting the race. Surely, you wouldn’t begrudge me that?”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth betrayed the urge to smile.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he replied smoothly, his gaze flicking to yours with a glint of challenge.

You let out a soft huff, trying to suppress the fluttering sensation in your chest. “Fine,” you relented. “But don’t think this means I’m letting you off the hook for losing.”

Anthony chuckled, his voice low and warm. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Featherington. I’ll accept whatever forfeit you impose. But I do hope you’ll keep it… reasonable.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said with mock seriousness, pretending to consider all the humiliating possibilities.

As you walked together, the playful banter between you was laced with an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken yet impossible to ignore. You might have won the wager, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Anthony had been the winner in the end.

⏮️                ⏸️                  ⏭️

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(last minute tag. Hope you'll enjoy!) @ericityyy

[witchygagirlwrites]

Hank's Girl

Hank Voight x Reader

Blame @desimarie12 👀 and the 2 energy drinks i've had

You and Hank go to the police gala and run into your ex

Um steamy?!?! Companion piece to Really

Moving in with Hank was a big step. You hadn’t originally wanted to take it, not because you didn’t love him. You loved that man more than was reasonable but that was the house he bought with Camille, the one he raised Justin and finished raising Erin in. You felt like you were intruding on something deep but he was right in the fact that you were paying for rent and all utilities for a place you barely stayed at anymore.

It took you weeks to unpack and even longer to feel comfortable enough to say “Home” instead of “Hank’s” the most hilarious thing was the fact that considering you were friends with members of his unit that meant they now saw the inside of his home, something some of them hadn’t never really had happened. 

Tonight was the police gala. Of course the unit was expected to be in attendance. They all had the options to bring dates. Hailey was going with Jay, Kim with Adam and Kevin was going out with a nurse from med Alicia Jones. All the unit had the benefit of wearing their dress uniforms. You on the other hand ended up having to wrangle Alicia to go shopping with you to find a dress that looked presentable enough to be on a sergeant’s arm.

Hank was down in the kitchen waiting on you but you couldn’t get the damn zipper. “Ugh!” you hollered and heard his laughter drifting up the stairs “Sweetheart?” you grabbed your shoes and hoisted the hem of the dress in your hand to walk downstairs “I can’t get the zipper up any further”

You walked over to where he was sitting in a chair at the table and turned to sit in his lap. He chuckled, hands slipping up your hips before you felt the zipper easily tug up into place. “There ya go princess” you went to stand up and felt his hand slide across your ass so you looked over your shoulder at him and he smirked slightly. You shook your head and slipped your heels on then plunked the first one up onto his chest “Since you’re enjoying dressing me so much” 

He gave you a look that said to enjoy this while it lasted before tying your heel up your ankle then pressing a kiss to the top of your foot. He nodded towards the other foot “Let’s get that one down so we can get going”

You felt Hank’s hand on your lower back as you walked into the gala. Numerous cops filled the area along with their dates. You could’ve cared less about any of them,you were looking for your unit. You spotted Kevin first and tapped Hank’s side “I see the kids baby” he shook his head with a laugh like he did any time you referred to his unit as the kids considering you were in their age range.

He used his hand to guide you through the crowd, his gravel filled voice only having to let out an “Excuse me” once for people to get the point and move the hell out of the way.

When you finally got across to the rest of the unit you smiled when you saw them “My god you all look so good in your dress uniforms!” you complemented, looking them over then smiled at Alicia “And that dress looks gorgeous on you” 

They all thanked you in turn and Adam hugged you with one arm, whispering in your ear “It’s still weird at times seeing him smile” you slapped his chest playfully “Oh hush Ruzek” Kim shook her head as everyone started their own conversations amongst the group. You enjoyed any time you got to spend with them all, even at this stuffy of an event.

You were standing at the bar with Hailey and Kim. Kevin and Alicia had already called it a night but Hank had to stay longer so they were toughing it out with you. “It’s amazing seeing the change in him since he’s been with you” Hailey laughed and you felt a grin slip onto your face “I honestly never would’ve thought Hank Voight would be such a good man”

You heard someone scoff behind you and turned to see Detective Daniel Moore, a man you’d gone on maybe two dates with. “What was that?” Kim asked and he shrugged “Nothing, just bullshit hearing the three of you riding Voight’s dick so hard” 

“What the fuck is your problem?” you asked and he smirked at you “At least with these two it’s not literal but damn you’ve fallen far” “You son of a..” you were interrupted by Jay’s voice “Hey, what’s going on over here?” 

“Ask Detective Moore” Hailey bit out and you stared him down, seeing if he’d be so brash in front of Jay. “Was saying it’s a shame three perfectly capable women having to ride someone’s coattails or well in Y/N’s case dick like Voights”

Adam appeared over your shoulder “The fuck did you say?” about the time you spotted Hank step up behind Daniel “I think you need to reconsider how you speak to my girlfriend and my detectives, considering I’d hold their records to yours any day” Hank lowered his voice before adding “and from what I’ve heard you didn’t have much dick to ride anyways boy”

Adam clamped a hand over his mouth but Jay straight up laughed as Daniel turned red and muttered something unintelligible before skittering away. Hank’s eyes were solely on you as he told everyone “Head home. We’re done here tonight” you heard a goodnight from everyone but you were here in place from the look in his eyes. Oh he was pissed by what Daniel had said, a lot more than he was showing.

You walked in the door in front of Hank and could damn near feel the anger rolling off of him. “Let’s go to bed” you offered and he shook his head “I’m gonna stay up a little while. You can head up” 

You shook your head and headed up to the room to change. You wanted out of the dress anyways. You got to the room before you remembered you couldn’t unzip the damn dress. “Hank!”

You walked back down the stairs and he was standing at the bottom of them “What baby?” you turned around “The zipper” he chuckled and you felt his hands on your back before the zipper gave way. Instead of heading up you let the dress fall down your body and pool around your feet on the bottom step. “That’s better” 

He let his eyes trail across your body, taking in the black lace set you’d been wearing under your dress before he nodded up “Head up to bed. I’ll be up in a little while” “Make me” you replied with a grin but saw his eyes darken and knew you’d found a new button to push “What was that?”

You took a step closer, kicking the dress out of the way and letting your clothed breast brush against the material of his dress uniform “I said if you want me to head up to bed then make me”  he shook his head, one hand coming out to wrap loosely around your throat “You already knew I was pissed baby. You’re really gonna be a brat?” you grinned at him and he shook his head “Of fucking course, you love this shit”

He turned you around on the stairs and slapped your ass hard enough a whimper escaped your lips “Get your ass up in that bed. I’m right behind you” you felt his hands on your hips, pulling you back against him and you could feel how hard he was through his dress pants and bit your lip as you rubbed your ass back against him, earning yourself another swat “Go”

______________

You felt his hands on your body the moment you crossed into the bedroom. One hand teased low, almost where you wanted it before slipping away “Since you want to be a brat help me get out of this damn thing”

You turned to face him and started to work on the buttons, your hands shaking slightly and he chuckled when he noticed “What’s wrong baby?” you swallowed hard and continued until you could push the shirt off of him. You started to run your hands over his chest but he shook his head “Didn’t say you could touch me yet”

Your mouth fell open in shock and he winked at you “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry” you let your tongue flick out to wet your bottom lip before your hands went to the zipper of his pants “Promise?” he grabbed the back of your head to pull you into a rough kiss “Don’t I always?”

You smiled into the kiss before you let your fingers work his zipper down, one hand slipping under his waistband to wrap around his hardened cock and he groaned lightly as he let one hand slip down to push your panties to the side, two thick fingers sinking into you “Hearing that asshole talk about you?” he curled his fingers and your hand stopped moving, going to his hip to hold yourself up “Like he could ever make you feel as good as I do?” he hit that spot inside of you and kept working at it until your legs started to shake and the only thing keeping you upright was his other arm around your waist “Go ahead baby” he whispered and you felt your orgasm hit you, your thighs clenching around his wrist as you sagged against his chest. “I’m gonna make sure by the end of the night that you won’t even recognize him if you see him again” he promised,pushing you back onto the bed “You want me to do that pretty girl?”

You nodded “Please?” he smiled “I love you beautiful” “I love you too Hank” you whispered as he shook his head “My damn little brat” before shoving his pants off his hips. You laid back on the bed and let your legs fall open further and he groaned “Gonna be the fucking death of me yet”

[cosyvelvetorchid]

For One Night Only.. Maybe

My new Bucktommy fake dating/clipboard Buck au!

Read on AO3 or below.

Enjoy!

🩶

**********

Chapter 1

Rating: G (for this chapter. Will be M or E later on)

w/c: 4320

Summary:

Tommy Kinard asks Evan Buckley to be his fake boyfriend for one night to keep his aunt Clara off his back about dating.

The problem begins when it goes well.

Too well.

Tommy tries to ignore the fact that he’s falling for a straight guy.

While Buck is trying to figure out what these new strange feelings he’s having mean.

**********

“Thanks again for dinner.”

“No problem, Tommy.” Chimney said clearing the dinner table. “I’m just glad we actually found the time to properly hang out”

“Yeah and not in the back of a helo in a hurricane.” Hen added.

“Anybody ready for dessert?” Chimney called from the kitchen.

“Oh, no.” Tommy patted his stomach. “Anymore food and my shirt will burst.”

“Yeah, like it’s not already pulling at the seams from your ridiculous muscles.” Hen joked. Tommy lifted up his arm into a bicep curl with a grin and Hen rolled her eyes as they laughed.

“You should definitely join me and Eddie at our pick up basketball games.” Chim said sitting back down at the table.

“I’d love to. You play as well, Evan?”

“Oh he hates basketball.” Chim answered for him.

“What?!” Tommy responded looking at Buck. “How can you hate basketball ball? It’s the sport of kings!”

Buck shrugged. “Just never interested me.” He replied honestly.

“Travesty.” Tommy teased.

“I’m gonna make coffee.” Chimney stood up.

“I’ll help.” Hen followed him into the kitchen.

“So what hobbies do you have?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, I-I love to cook.” Buck said. “Bobby’s been teaching me pretty much since I arrived at the 118.”

“Man, I miss his cooking. Those family dinners were the shit.”

Buck chuckled. “They still are. Actually he’s having a dinner this weekend. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you came too.”

“Ah, I’d love that but I got family coming to visit this weekend.”

“The queen is finally asleep.” Maddie said walking out into the living room.

“How many stories did you have to read?” Hen asked.

“Four.” She said. “In the end I had to make one up about Tommy.”

“Me?” Tommy questioned.

“Oh you’re the star of the evening—Daddy’s friend who can fly. Right now you’re the coolest person she knows.”

“She’s not wrong.” Tommy joked, popping his collar.

“Maybe I should tell her the story of Maurice.” Hen said.

“Oh, come on!” He replied.

“Who’s Maurice?” Buck asked. Hen and Chimney looked at each other and laughed.

“Well..” Chimney began the story as Tommy shook his head in embarrassment.

*****

Buck sat at his island eating his breakfast checking his texts. He’d received one from Maddie thanking him for coming over for dinner. It never failed to make him laugh the she always did that, even though there was no need—he was her brother.

It had been a nice evening all around. He loved getting to spend time with Jee, who didn’t miss the opportunity to make Uncle Buck promise that next time he came over they’d bake cookies, and he’d enjoyed getting to know Tommy more.

He’d heard the stories from Hen and Chim about Tommy’s time at the 118, and he knew that he’d helped them out with that fire at Doheny park years ago. They had talked about him with fondness how it would be nice to catch up with him- though neither of them thought it would take a capsized cruise ship and a category 5 hurricane to do it.

Tommy was just so cool. But in an understated way—he didn’t talk or walk like he thought his shit didn’t stink, but instead seemed quite humble and on more than one occasion seemed a little uncomfortable when Hen or Chim were praising him. Which just made him even cooler.

What Buck noticed the most was just how masculine he was. He was tall, broad and muscular. His hair was similar to a regulation military cut, perhaps a little longer and his lower face was caressed with dark stubble. The cleft was something Buck couldn’t stop himself from looking at the most. He’d always admire the feature on a man. And Tommy was indeed a man.

But his masculinity what balanced, however, by his deeply blue eyes surrounded by long dark lashes. He was somehow incredibly handsome and equally pretty. Strangely, Buck couldn’t stop looking at him.

As he threw his breakfast plate into the sink a knock on his door echoed in the apartment and he opened his door to the last person he expected.

“T-Tommy.”

The man smiled. “Hey, Evan. Can I come in?”

“Uh, sure.” He stepped aside to let him through.

“Wow! Maybe I’m working at the wrong station.” Tommy said as he looked around Bucks living space.

“Is-is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” He said waving away Buck’s concerns. “I actually have a, uh, favour to ask.” He scratched the back of his head. For as confident he’d seemed so far, this morning he seemed.. nervous? Perhaps not nervous but certainly less confident that he had been the evening before.

From the moment Tommy had met them at Harbour station weeks ago, he’d done nothing but ooze confidence. His body language, the way he spoke, the way he did his job—Buck had watched in awe at the way his hands delicately glided over the controls as he flew the helicopter back after the cruise ship rescue. In the handful of times they’d met since then, Tommy always seemed to come across quite squared away and sure of himself.

“Uh, sure.” Buck walked over to the counter. “You want a coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“So what’s the favour? Nothing illegal is it?” Buck teased pouring them both a mug.

“I- What if it was?” Tommy enquired with a curious look to his eyes.

“That would depend on what it was.”

“Wait, so there’s some illegal activity you would be willing to engage in if I asked?” Tommy raised an eyebrow. Actually if he looked at Buck with those eyes Buck probably be willing to do a lot.

“Well, like murder? No. Breaking into a lab to rescue animals—I’d be down.” He answered placing Tommy’s coffee mug in front of him on the island.

“Thanks, and duly noted.” He chuckled. “No, it’s nothing like that. You remember last night I mentioned I had family coming to town?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s my aunt Clara who’s coming.” Tommy said.

“Is she not very nice?”

“No, she’s great. Practically raised me after my parents-“ He abruptly stopped himself from finishing the sentence. “She’s a great lady. The problem is that from the moment I came out to her a couple of years ago she has constantly been trying to set me up with men she knows. And, God love the woman, but her taste in men is awful.” Buck couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you wanting me to set you up with someone? ‘Cause, I’m sorry but I don’t think I know any single gay men.”

“Oh, no, that’s not- That wasn’t the favour.”

“Oh?”

“I’m actually not looking to date anybody, which she cannot seem to accept. But, when she wouldn’t let it go on the phone last week, I kinda, sorta lied and told her I already had a boyfriend.” He admitted.

“And now she’s coming to visit..” Buck said picking up what he was getting at.

“She’s expecting me to introduce her to him.”

“Oh.” Buck responded.

“So-“ He elongated the word. “I was wondering if you would consider.. pretending to be my boyfriend for an evening?

“Oh.” Buck said again. He had zero idea of what the favour was going to be but he never would have guess that.

“She’s only on town for 1 night and it would just be a couple of hours for dinner, which I’ll pay for so you’ll get a free meal out of it.”

“Why me?” Buck asked, truly confused as to why Tommy would pick him of all people. Tommy was effortlessly cool and accomplished—Buck was a dork, who never shut up.

“Two reasons, really. Firstly, I don’t have anybody else to ask. She met Chimney a couple of times back when I was at the 118 and knows he’s straight. That leaves Bobby, which, absolutely not, or Eddie and no offence to him but he screams straight guy—no way he could pull off queer.”

Buck laughed at the true statement. “But you think I could?”

“God, I hope so.” Tommy said. “Plus, you’re closer to my type anyway so it’s more likely that Clara would believe it.”

Tommy’s face was kind of adorable, really. Buck wasn’t sure if he was deliberately putting on those puppy dog eyes, but they were working, regardless.

“What would I need to do?”

“Just have dinner with us.”

“That’s it?” Buck asked.

“You’re expecting more? I’m not sure that would be appropriate at the dinner table, Evan.” Tommy winked and Buck’s cheeks immediately pinked up.

“That’s not what I meant!” He protested to Tommy’s amusement. “I just meant like, would I have to hold your hand, have my arm around you etc?”

“You wouldn’t have to. Not if that would make you feel uncomfortable, I mean.” He explained.

“I-I don’t mind. When is the dinner?”

“Friday night.”

“Okay. That gives us 3 days to plan.” Buck said unlocking his phone and opening the notes app.

“I’m sorry.. plan?” Tommy said confused.

“Well yeah.. If we’re going to make this believable we need to make sure we get our stories straight.”

“She’s my aunt, not the Spanish Inquisition, Evan.”

“And what happens if-if.. Say I order you a drink and it’s one you hate and she knows that you hate it.. wouldn’t that be weird? Or-or if she asks how we met and we give different answers.”

“I think you’re overthinking this a little.” Tommy said gently.

“I think you’re under thinking this a lot.” Buck countered.

Tommy looked at Buck for a few seconds and sighed resolutely. “I’m not going to win this am I?”

“Nope.” Buck replied with a grin.

Little did Tommy know that he’d just met Clipboard Buck.

***

“So, what sort of plan do you have in mind?” Tommy asked as they walked through a local park. It was a beautiful sunny and warm day—the first in almost a week of cloudy, drizzly weather. If nothing else, Tommy could at least get some vitamin D out of this ridiculous plan.

The thing is he admired Evan’s commitment to the cause, but it really was just going to be for one night of dinner. And it’s not like Clara was going to torture them for information to test their “relationship.”

But, though he wouldn’t admit it even on threat of death, Tommy actually found Evan’s excitement of it all quite adorable.

“We need to learn basic things about each other like favourite foods, where we grew up etc. You know—stuff your partner would know after.. how long have we been together?”

“2 months.”

“Right, after 2 months together. But we don’t have a long time to do it.”

“So, we need the cliff notes of each other is what you’re saying.”

“Exactly.” Buck said.

“Is there a form I could fill in for this?”

“See, I just learned something about you.” Buck said almost triumphantly.

“What?”

“You’re quite bitchy.” Buck informed him. There was no malice or judgement in Buck’s voice—it was actually one his favourite qualities in Tommy so far.

“I am not!” He protested. Buck just gave him a look. “Yeah well, you.. yap. You’re a yapper.” His face was smug as though he’d figured out something nobody else knew.

“I know.” Buck said without a hint of shame. And he truly wasn’t ashamed. A few years ago, he’d have thought differently. On more than one occasion Taylor Kelly, his ex girlfriend, had called him a yapper and never meant it affectionately.

After that ended, he started working on a newer and improved version of himself. (Although he couldn’t remember if he was supposed to be Buck 4.0 or Buck 5.0. So what? At least he was trying to improve, right?)

“We could play 20 questions or something like that?” Buck asked.

“I’m sorry are we 14?” Tommy replied.

“Sorry.” Buck said looking down. But Tommy could tell that he thought he’d done something wrong. Maybe Evan was right about his bitchiness. Guilt pricked at his chest.

“I’m sorry. You’re right—it’s actually a good idea.” Tommy conceded and Buck threw him a skeptical look. “I promise.” He smiled softly. “I guess I was just being bitchy.” He added with a deliberate smirk. Buck playfully rolled his eyes before continuing to walk alongside Tommy.

“I guess I’ll start—What’s your favourite movie?” Buck asked.

“Love Actually.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“What?! How have you not seen it?” Tommy asked.

Buck shrugged. “Just not a big movie watcher. My sister and are were kinda sheltered from a lot of movies and shows as a kid so never really got into them. I love documentaries though.”

“Noted. Worst injury you’ve had on the job?”

“That would be the engine that crushed my leg.” Buck answered. Tommy stopped still.

“Wait that was you?!” Buck nodded. “I remember watching that on tv.”

Buck scoffed. “So did my girlfriend at the time. She didn’t handle it well. Broke up with me as soon as I got out of hospital.”

“Charming.” Tommy responded sarcastically. “How long did it take to heal?”

“Uh, about 5 months for my leg to heal to pass my physical, but then I threw a blood clot in my lung and set me back another 2 months thanks to the blood thinners.” Buck explained.

Tommy couldn’t not notice the sadness on Bucks face as he remembered that time in his life. He recognised the look from his own reflection when he caught himself thinking about his own past. He tried not to allow himself to do that much as it was too painful. But every so often those memories would slide their way into to his consciousness.

“What about you?” Buck asked.

“Chopper went down in Afghanistan. Got a punctured lung and broke my arm in two places.”

“You were in the military?” Buck asked, surprised.

“Army.” Tommy replied. “Enlisted at 18. It’s why I transferred to Harbor—I missed flying.”

“I bet it feels like having a super power.” Buck said back.

“On occasion.” He said.

“Man, I would love to be a be able to fly.”

“I can give you lessons if you want?” He offered. 

“Really?” Buck questioned excitedly.

Tommy nodded. “It’s the least I could do for helping me out.”

“I don’t think that’s equal.” Buck argued. “At least let me buy you a beer. Actually, speaking of—what do you like to drink?”

“Like every other boring cis male I mostly drink beer. Occasionally a nice red wine. You?”

“I like an IPA. Just keep me away from the Margaritas.”

“Do I want to know?” Tommy eyed him up.

“I kissed Lucy.” He admitted, embarrassed.

“Donato?!”

“Yeah. Actually, she kissed me first for the record. But I-I, uh.. had a girlfriend at the time.” 

“Oh.” He said elongating the word.

“Yeah, not my finest moment.” Buck said.

“Are you still together?” He enquired.

“Oh, no—we broke up a few months after that. Different reason though.”

Tommy didn’t push the subject. They continued leisurely walking around the park trading basic personal information: Where they were from—Tommy was born and bred in L.A, Buck from Pennsylvania; music tastes—Buck liked pop music and whatever was on the radio on his drive in to work, Tommy liked what Buck teased as dad rock; Favourite place to eat—Tommy loved a local pizza joint, Micellis, Buck liked Sushi Palace.

It was, admittedly, not as hellish an afternoon as Tommy had been expecting. In fact it had actually been quite pleasant. There was an ease talking to Evan. He wasn’t arrogant or judgmental like a lot of men Tommy had met that were Evan’s age. Instead, though he was confident, he was also open; wasn’t ashamed of the things he liked and certainly didn’t seem to be putting on any airs and graces to impress Tommy.

**********

“Hi, Evan.” Tommy answered the phone just as he sat down in Habors rec room. “What’s up?”

“What are you wearing?” 

“Wow, and so early in our relationship. I dig it.” 

“Hilarious, Tommy.” Buck said as Tommy chuckled. “I’m talking about tomorrow night.” 

“Uh, I don’t know. Haven’t really thought about. I’ll probably just grab a shirt from my closet. I might even wear clean jeans. Why?”

“I was thinking we should coordinate.”

“It’s just a casual dinner, Evan. It doesn’t really matter all that much.” 

“But I-I want to make a good impression on your aunt.” 

Tommy couldn’t help but smile at his ridiculous new friend. Chimney had told him that he was the type to go all in with whatever he did and he wasn’t kidding. 

“Evan, you really don’t have to worry. I’m sure you’ll look great whatever you wear, and honestly Clara isn’t going to care.”

“I can’t help it—I’ve never been on a date with a guy before.” He said earnestly. “You asked me to help and I want to do a good job for you.”

And didn’t that make Tommy feel a certain way he definitely shouldn’t be. 

“I appreciate that, Evan. And you for helping me. But really, you don’t have to worry. I promise.”

“Okay.” Buck said back but Tommy heard the concern in his voice.

He was probably going to regret his next suggestion. “If it will make you feel better, why don’t you come to my place before dinner and you can pick my outfit.”

“Really?” Tommy could practically hear the grin on Bucks face.

“Really.”

“Cool.” 

**********

Tommy walked into his house desperate for a shower. He’d been working ground support on a landfill fire and smelled like what could only be described as burnt plastic wrapped in fish. 

He took three steps up his stairs when his doorbell rang. He’d hoped it would be Larry across the street whom he hated for being the neighbourhood busybody who would complain about anything and everything. He’d love Larry to get a big old whiff of him right now. 

He was surprised however to see his aunt on the other side of the door. 

“Aunt Clara? I thought we were going to be meeting at the restaurant.”

“I wanted to surprise my favourite nephew.” Her small 5 foot frame stepped forward and she reached up to grab Tommys face, planting a kiss onto his cheek; her long black flowing kaftan, despite her small stature, almost enveloping him. 

“I’m your only nephew.” He reminded her which she ignored. 

“Grab my bag, darling.” She gestured behind herself. “Did something die in here?” She remarked.

“Oh, sorry that’s me. I was just about to have a shower.” She waved her hand in front of her face trying to waft away the ripe stench coming from him.

“Is there a problem with your hotel?” Tommy brought her bag inside as she turned and made her way into the kitchen. 

“Some issue with their power. They’ve cancelled all reservations for tonight. I hope you have better coffee this time, and not that cheap crap that tastes like it’s already been through somebody.” She opened and closed his cabinets until she found his coffee, which as it happened was better than what he used to buy.

“So, you’re staying here?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Uh, no. No, of course not. It’s- I just wasn’t expecting it. I haven’t set up the guest room.” He said.

She waved her hand; the sound of her beaded jewellery clacking as she moved. “You don’t have to go to the trouble, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Tommy looked at her incredulously. “I wouldnt be caught dead sleeping on a couch—I have standards” - that’s a direct quote from you.” 

“People change, Thomas.” She argued as she squinted at Tommys coffee machine trying to figure out what buttons to press. “What happened to just using a simple coffee pot? Your generation are obsessed with these damn robot machines.” 

Tommy chuckled. “Aunt Clara, you go sit down and I’ll make the coffee.” 

“Thank you, darling.” She affectionately tapped the side of his face. She stopped after taking a step past him. “On second thought you better take that shower first—you smell like my first husband. After he died.” 

***

Tommy emerged from his shower feeling like a brand new man. He threw on some sweats and a T-shirt and headed downstairs to make his aunt coffee.

He found her standing in front of his fireplace admiring the photograph of his mother that sat on top of the hearth. His mom was standing by his grandmothers Christmas tree with a 1 year old Tommy in her arms. Her smile was big and happy—the picture taken back at a time when her smiled outnumbered her cry’s.

“She was so beautiful.” Clara remarked hearing Tommy enter the room.

“Yeah.” He agreed.

“Shame she met your piece of shit father. Actually, that’s not entirely fair—she got you of it,” she patted his upper arm. “The only good thing to ever come from him.”

She walked back over to the sofa and sat down, tucking her crossed legs underneath herself.

“Speaking of pictures—I want to see one of this Evan boy.”

Shit. Evan. He was going to be coming over soon and judging by the nerves he’d already had at the prospect of tonights dinner, he was probably going to shit himself entirely when he turns up and gets an early and unexpected introduction.

Also, how was he going to explain not having any photos of Evan? Perhaps his reassurances to Evan that tonight would be fine was preemptive. 

“I- it’s a new phone so I don’t have any pictures.” He said on the fly and hoped she’d believe it.

“What about his social media? You kids post everything in there these days.”

“I don’t really use it.” That was the truth. Lucy had made him set up an instagram account once but he’d posted one picture of a sunset taken from the helm of his helo and that was it.

“Oh you should, darling—I’ve met some wonderful men from instagram. I haven’t paid for a dinner in months!” She said happily.

“Aunt Clara!” Tommy chastised “You can’t just meet random men from the internet! Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“Sweetheart, when you get to my age, danger is just a little extra excitement.” She told him “Besides, a woman has needs that must be-“

“Woah!” Tommy threw his hands up. “I so do not need to know the rest of that sentence.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “It’s 2024, Thomas—women like sex too. It’s not something to be ashamed about.”

“Yes, I get that, and agree. However I don’t need to know about your sex life, thank you.” He told her and she laughed. “Besides, since when did you use social media?”

“I told you—to meet men.”

“You joined social media to get laid?” He said; incredulity all over his face.

“For company, Thomas. At our age people are dropping like flies.”

“You’re 62, not 90.” He reminded her.

“Yes but the men my age that haven’t eaten or drank themselves into a heart attack, all want housewives; women to wipe their asses for them like it’s 1950.” She shook her head. “I want to spend my final years on this earth eating good food, drinking fantastic wine and having mind blowing orgasms,” Tommy grimaced. “And only the younger ones know how to give those.”

“How.. how young are we talking?” Tommy asked mildly terrified of the answer.

“The last one was..” she looked up at the ceiling as she recalled the answer. “41.”

“Christ, Clara he’s my age!”

“And all the better for it.” She winked.

“Okay!” He abruptly stood up. “We’re done with this conversation—I’m going to make that coffee.” He quickly made for the kitchen to the sound of Clara’s laughs behind him.

He closed the kitchen door and pulled out his phone to call Buck, swearing to himself when there was no answer because presumably it meant that he was already driving to Tommy’s.

He made himself and Clara coffee then hovered near front door to hopefully catch Evan as he arrived. Luck was on his side when he spotted the jeep pulling up against the curb. He quickly ran to meet him.

Buck lifted out a bunch of hangers, each holding a different shirt. “Hey, so I brought a couple of options for-“

“She’s here.” Tommy interrupted.

“Huh?”

“My aunt. She’s here. Turned up like an hour ago.”

“I thought we were meeting her at the restaurant?” Buck asked.

“So did I. But there’s an issue with her hotel so she’s staying here tonight.”

“Wow. Okay.” Buck looked toward the house to see a woman with dark curly hair wiggling her fingers at him with a smile. He took in a deep breath. “We haven’t discussed our relationship, yet. Like-like who asked who out, what we like to do on dates, and-“

Tommy placed his hands into Bucks shoulders to, let’s be honest, shut him up. “It’ll be fine. But.. I should probably have warned you that she’s.. well, she’s not like most women her age. She’s remarkably progressive and very open about a lot of things. She also sometimes forgets her boundaries, so prepare for some invasive personal questions.”

“You couldn’t have told me all this before?” Buck argued.

“I was going to when you got here but I wasn’t expecting her first. If you don’t want to do this I completely understand. I can tell her your sick or-“

It was Bucks turn to interrupt. “No, I want to. I promised I would help. It’s fine.” He gave a somewhat nervous smile.

“Okay.” Tommy nodded. He turned and held out his hand for Buck to take. “You ready?”

Buck slid his fingers into Tommy’s and was immediately surprised at how soft his hands were. Tommy led them up the path and into the house.

[valjeancrazylover2]

Javert's Inspirations

So, neither option won that poll, so I'm making this post first. This is probably going to be me ranting more about Javerts I like than actually talking about my own Javert.

The characterisations of other characters have been taken from either one primary source, musical actor, or my own personal take. For example, Cosette is mainly inspired by the 1982 film, but has some influence from musical actresses such as Beatrice Penny-Touré.

Exeptions to this is the versions of the characters post-barricade, as from there is where my story mainly diverges, as most Javert & Valjean Live AUs do. Most of that is my own interpretation, since they are no longer in "normal" circumstances.

As such, Javert has been very fun to work on, because there have been many different characterisations that I find VERY entertaining. They all seem to lean into one aspect of his character more than the others, which makes him... strangely versatile, for such a rigid character?

So... what does this mean for my favourite baldie?

-

Let's start with the guy who started it all, and my blog icon: Todd Alan Johnson. There will be several musical Javerts listed here, but nobody was doing it like TAJavert. I blame him in part for getting me into Les Mis, as I had been a fan of TAJ for a while, when I stumbled across him in 2021 in Little Shop of Horrors as Orin Scrivello (my favourite character - can you tell I like villains). After being introduced to Les Mis through the work experience I was doing in Feb 2024, i revisited TAJ, finding out he had in fact played Javert - first in the third national US tour, and a few other times in smaller productions.

Thats when I found the pictures from Surflight's 2013 production.

And thus Chauvert was cemented in the brain. simply couldnt have it any other way. he just HAD to be bald. Because of this, and at the time I began designing him I didn't know anybody else who played Javert (this would later be changed when I saw stewart clarke live, but nothing really changed after that except for the javert bug eye truth to be solidified)

I really wish there was more footage of this production past these photos, because I NEED more of his bald head as Javert. And look at those sideburns! They're all-natural! Plus, i thought his face was a good fit in general for Javert. It's less obvious with his sideburns, but he's got that big jaw, talks with his bottom teeth showing, intense eyebrows, big buggy eyes when he wants them to be.

Pic from him as Sweeney Todd. My Javert's face is just a heavily cariacaturised version of his.

Additionally, I'm sure you're all familiar with jadenvargen/melancholyarchivist's art. I was a fan before, so finding out there was les mis art too was huge. My Javert was always a bit on the larger side, but that one drawing with Javert and Valjean labelled something like "tremendously large man" and "bigger even huger man" or whatever, cant find the piece right now. anyway that definitely confirmed for me that they were BOTH gonna be built and fat, rather than the lanky javert that I see most people draw.

So, that was the foundation.

From here I'm not really sure in what order inspirations came, but next was probably Anthony Perkins in LM1978, because you just dont get more diva that that. We all know how much of a drama queen Javert is, and in fact Perkins was so good at this that the first thing I did after watching this film was go downstairs and ask my mother if Perkins was gay (to which she replied "Oh, absolutely flaming")

My inspiration for Javert usually comes from small, inconsequential little actions or demeanour that catch my eye... Perkins had plenty, as well as a ring on his finger, which I always forget to draw, but my Javert is supposed to have.

Here's a select few bits I like of his, that have directly influenced my Javert. There's probably more, but I can't remember off the top of my head.

1) the walk. 2) the way he hold's the cane??

3) this whole scene, but specifically the there is no monsieur in this room! there is only a scoundrel! line. 4) the way he reacts to finding out valjean is still alive. VERY similar to how it goes down in my canon, just in a different setting/scenario.

outside of 1978, there havent really been any non-musical adaptation Javerts that have particularly stood out to me. I havent watched 1998 but he doesnt look like he'd be like my Javert, and 1982 despite being my favourite adaptation ... did not have the most memorable Javert.

Even in the radio dramas, which i love to death, don't really have much influence over my Javert, since I already have a very clear idea in my head of his speech, and most inspiration comes from visuals. the CBS radio drama probably comes the closest to the way he speaks, though. (his voiceclaims are either roger allam, todd alan johnson, or some random french guy with a really deep voice who came up on my instagram feed once. yes, I'm serious, my javert sounds like that.)

My javert is not exactly expressive, or outwardly "sassy", per se? I think he's more subtly camp, perhaps with the way he stands sometimes. Don't worry, he's still the absolute drama queen he is in the brick, with "would you like my hat?" and all, but he delivers it in a much more flat way. that's why I don't exactly look at the way perkins delivers "monsieur, monsieur le inspector now!" for my javert. yes, he'd say that, but with a little less visible sass, if that makes sense.

Pre-seine, he's expressive in his own way. whenever he loses control a little he's prone to getting visibly angry; distressed (see: losing valjean when chasing him through paris); when you can see him setting his jaw with a visible vein in his head, short-tempered and curt; or that sort of sinister glee with his "bark" of a laugh or patronising sneer. But other than that... you've gotta hear it in his voice. Sorry to all the cuntvert fans out there, my Javert tries to keep it professional when he can, but he's still trying to out-diva everyone at any given opportunity!

So we return to musical Javerts, then.

I've seen a few, so it's hard to gauge who's had an actual effect and who hasn't. There are a few I do know for a fact I have taken little bits from:

Terrence Mann is familiar to everyone I'm sure. sass-central, which contradicts the above paragraph, but he does it in a wonderfully weird and kind of menacing way which i LOVE. My javert leans more into that menacing side of things. He's always JUST in the shadows, just so that you might not notice him, but if you were wary of authority, you'd see him lurking. his stature, you might think would make him a bit lumbering, but he's shockingly agile and snakelike. Think of a tiger. (oh yeah, shere khan from the jungle book is another inspiration i guess, but I won't include him here - we know.) Terrence Mann is delightfully snide and insane and I love it.

Gifs of small bits of his performance I like.

And his soliloquy? oof.. believably absolutely losing his mind.

The Javert who has probably influenced mine the most is Hartwig Rudolz, from the german Duisburg production in the 90s. He's commanding, he's dignified and haughty, he's even got the sinister chipperness about him from time to time (he's chummy with Madeleine in the cart scene, even laughing and smiling with him. While not really my Javert, it's worth a mention. Also does a condescending chuckle when Thenardier asks to be let go before Stars.)

More gifs of bits I like!

Bonus gif, cus that wig is loooong!

Three more would be Nic Greenshields, Jordan Simon Pollard and Michael Ball. They are all great Javerts (which might be a hot take, I'm not sure if ballvert is popular but I've been a fan of his for 5 years so maybe i'm biased.) I can't say TOO much on Nic and Michael acting-wise, because Michael Ball has only been in the arena tours, and the footage ive seen of Nic Greenshields is not the GREATEST quality - but they all have an air of haughty dignity about them, which obviously i try to give my Javert.

Jordan I've had the pleasure of seeing in person, twice, as well as meeting the guy. He's been the understudy for a while. He takes quite an expressive approach to Javert, using mainly his eyebrows, which i definitely think makes up most of my Javert's expressiveness. He really knows how to use his face to act - seriously, I can barely believe it's the same guy ! He usually has quite a furrowed brow, with his chin jutting out a little, standing with his chest puffed out. He's 6'3, and quite broad-chested (seeing as he works out) so you can imagine what kind of a presence that creates.

Both Nic and Jordan, being in the same production (Jordan was Nic's u/s in the UK tour, is now Stewart Clarke's on the West End) had this moment, but after Thenardier asks to be let go, on "it was me what told you so!", they turn and step forward so that Javert is basically chest-to-face with Thenardier (and the guy playing him at the time was like, a foot shorter than the both of them). I liked that a lot. Absolutely something my Javert is doing. He's got the height and the tits for it, there's no way he isn't, cmon

Also, both Nic and Michael also have the benefit of being broader than most Javerts, Nic especially, as he stands at a whopping 6'6, so he's a SERIOUS presence onstage. My javert is around that margin at 6'6-6'7, so that checks.

I know a lot of people say Ballvert is "too cute" or whatever, and i'd totally agree as a michael ball fan, but if you ignore the fact it's Michael Ball, i think he seems a bit more "unsuspectingly cruel" than outwardly intimidating. While this doesn't exactly reflect my Javert, he DOES have some good bits. From my notes when I saw him in the arena tour:

the wway he takes off his gloves in the confrontation was not only kinda sexy (sorry) but a bit foreboding. he has a nice amount of sass, which of course is always appreciated. his general attitude in Stars, too, like he's truly earnest, and someone mentioned how he sings it like a love song - yuuup. His soliloquy is also amazing, the way he portrays Javert as being just so scared of what's happening, but lapsing into anger... ouuh.

I have not fully planned out my Javert's suicide (attempt) yet, how he would be responding, but I've been leaning into the more fearful approach. I mean, his entire worldview has been shattered like that, the entire structure of which he built his life on has just crumbled in front of him, i'd be frightened too.

Anyway, random detail - if you were interested in the origin of Javert's scar, like, from a meta perspective:

Adam Robert Lewis, of course, with his cool nose scar.

My javert had a scar anyway, just a small cut on the lip, probably from a nasty hit to the face which never quite healed right and scarred, but something about ARL's scar really worked... so the scar extended a few inches up the face. It's changed places since then, originally going from the lip to the nose, then from the lip to below the eye, but now it's branched off to both. I still don't have a specific origin for the scar in canon, so you can make one up yourself.

Linking to that scar, and also linking back to Michael Ball - i mistook a shadow on his eye for a burst blood vessel, and thought it would be an interesting look for my Javert. I'm a sucker for temporary details (Javert's moustache post-msurm, for one), so I've given him a bad eye for early M-sur-M. Very recent development.

HONORABLE JAVERT MENTIONS, THAT INSPIRED ME SLIGHTLY OR CEMENTED A SPECIFIC IDEA:

Stewart Clarke. He was the first I physically SAW, and also the one I've seen the most, since he's the current West End Javert. Very good javert, unsettling with those eyeballs, very spitty, which I totally forgot to mention is also an integral part to my Javert. So, thanks Stew! His soliloquy is also just out-of-this-world, seriously. Seek out a recent audio of his if you haven't heard him. He's nuts.

Jeremy Secomb. Sir Eyeballs Supreme. If you want a Javert with an unsettling stare, he's your guy. And he's currently the Bishop in the arena tour! What a way to convince Valjean to be a good guy, just staring him down with your evil fucking peepers. When partnered with Peter Lockyer, they form THE valvert duo, they kissed on video in costume, so many cute photos of them together, and they LOOK the parts. Jeremy looking like those toys you sqeeze and their eyes pop out vs Peter's soft face and kind smile like a golden retriever or something. Seriously perfect.

Nick Rehberger. Current US Javert. Great at really minor acting choices, sassy man apocalypse. Very dignified. VERY handsome. Bit gay. Amazing voice. What more could you want?

Roger Allam. Now, I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here. I've already mentioned he's one of the 3 people I cycle through for my Javert's voiceclaim, and there's like NO (publically available) footage of him. I am planning on viewing the footage they do have, but that's some time in the future. The OLCR is my personal listening choice when I'm listening to the musical soundtrack, so Allam is kind of burned into my brain. I know it probably sounds crazy but the way his voice sounds really influenced the way I have Javert physically speak, with his heavy jaw. Anything about his specific physicality is completely imagined - but hopefully not for long.

Chris Murray. Another german Javert I really like, from a 2007 nonrep production. If you like unhinged Javerts with eyeballs for days, he's your man. He's also just greatly unsettling. He almost made the cut with gifs, but unfortunately Terrence Mann won out. He was just a little TOO chipper about things. But i do love how his amiability is very obviously a ruse, with the way he holds a stiff smile in The Robbery on "But where's the gentleman gone / And why on Earth did he run?" (or, the German lyrics, whatever. It's that part of the song.)

Preston Truman Boyd. One part only. He's the reason I gave Javert a moustache and weird little chin beard thing post-msurm. I just thought that was important enough to get a mention, other than that I haven't really seen much of him enough to say.

ANYWAY, that's about it !!

There's probably more i've missed, but it's 5.30am right now, and I'm flagging. Plus, the post is long enough as is.

If you've read this far, I gotta know - who's your favourite Javert, or at least top 5? Have they influenced the way you view Javert in any way?

If you're like me and like taking tidbits from different sources, what are yours? Im curious to know !!! PLEASE tell me!!!!!!

Much love to my favourite bald freak <3

[winksasleeplesseye]

SUMMARY: Leon drifts deeper into a dream of perfect moments, struggling to separate longing from reality as everything he feels is watched closely.

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

WARNINGS: angst, intense emotions, dub con/noncon voyeurism

[MASTERLIST][PREVIOUS]

Leon drifted off, just like he had been every other night for the past few weeks. The hazy realm between sleep and awake beckoned to him so easily. He barely put up much of a fight rather letting it guide him than him actually protesting sleep.

No longer when he reached for the other side of the bed did he find a bitter cold. He found the warmth of your hand in his, fingers steady and pressure just the same. His heart raced, rhythm too fast, too sharp, like a drum out of sync with reality. Kind of like the one he just abandoned for this.

But nothing compared to this. Nothing.

Leon knew his heart was a place filled with regrets and unrelenting, unfulfilled desires. Not to mention, the now ever-present sharp, aching hole where you should've been. Every time he woke up he tried to convince himself to stop this, stop chasing ghosts…yet, here he was, every night. Every touch, every word shared with you felt like a desperate echo of what he couldn't have. What he couldn't reach in his waking life.

He'd tried to capture it. A way to cope with what he was experiencing in his head but more tangible, something he could touch. They were small, fleeting distractions. Women who vaguely resembled you in some way—-maybe their eyes, the curve of their lips, or the warmth of their skin. But it never compared. Didn't feel like enough. But for a brief,—very, very brief moment, it made this newfound ache that sat like a rock in his chest go away. It made the visions of you, the dreams, the memories—whatever they were…go away so he could breathe again.

It made him feel like himself before all this, the man who learned to hide it all, push his feelings aside and put on the mask of a man who was okay on the surface. But who was he kidding? This is exactly what it is. A game. A distraction.

They didn't matter. Because they weren't you.

Nameless, faceless women with empty words and empty touches.

He stared blankly to the ceiling as he sat at the kitchen table, a bottle of whiskey half-empty beside him. A lovely habit he picked up during training. It only granted him temporary respite. A harsh, flicking neon light casts a dull, sickly glow on the room. His eyes wandered down to the glass in front of him, maybe if he stared into the bottom of it hard enough, he'd find something there.

Some of the previous nights, where he didn't want to fall victim to the hold of sleep so quickly lingered in his mind. Nights he'd wish he could forget, the faint touches of skin, laughter in his ears. None of them you. They were someone else.

His mind had wandered, back to you—the vivid, soul-piercing moments that felt more real than anything in his real life. The way you'd touched him, your hands soft as they ran through his hair, the gentle way you kissed him. Everything about you had been seared into him like a brand, burning him with its intensity that left him wanting more.

But it's not real. He knew it. He knew she wasn't real.

Leon shook his head, a frustration building in him that threatened to drive him to the brink of insanity. The solace of temporary pleasure only made him more desperate, left him hollow.

"What the fuck am I doing?" He muttered to himself, pacing around the dimly lit kitchen.

He should find you…the real you. He knew it was stupid to even think the government would let him do that. It was hard enough to see Sherry, what made him think they'd let him see you? Fear and uncertainty plagued him at every point—haunting thoughts that'd he already lost you—-kept him from taking that step.

So, here he was. Chasing a ghost, a vision, an illusion….a memory.

Leon closed his eyes, lulled by the sound of the TV to sleep. This time, it wasn't to forget, but to remember. He replayed the dream—the way you looked at him, held him, kissed him as though nothing else mattered. He longed for that pathetically. He longed for you desperately.

"I’m here,” you whispered, your voice softer now, like the wind itself was stealing your words.

His grip tightened, desperation welling in his chest. “Don’t go.”

Your face blurred. His pulse slowed, the warmth of your hand grew cold. He blinked, but the image of you faded, dissolving into a swirl of colors. A buzzing sound filled the space where your laughter had been.

In a sterile room far from where he sat sleeping, a monitor beeped in rhythm with Leon’s brainwaves.

“NeuroSync is holding,” a voice said calmly, devoid of emotion. A shadowed figure leaned closer to the glowing screen, eyes scanning the peaks and troughs of neural signals dancing across the display.

Splashed across different screens, Leon's apartment sat in clear view of the scientists. But the main one that they focused their attention was Leon as he lay in his bed. Every twitch, every breath, everything laid bare for their viewing pleasure. And they weren't just hearing Leon's contentment, they were seeing it.

“Subject Kennedy’s engagement has deepened. Increased attachment to the fabricated stimuli.” Another figure adjusted the feed, altering the algorithm that controlled the dream sequence. “Introduce another stimulus. Let’s push his emotional capacity further.”

A panel lit up, showing the projection of Leon’s subconscious—a simulated reality crafted from fragments of his memories, designed to feel more real than life itself. Each sensation, each longing kiss, meticulously coded.

Medical records, photos, reports all laid out on a nearby table. You, their subject of interest, in every detail of your life all cleanly noted across this table. Alongside Leon's information, no detail left to chance.

How had they managed this? Managed to get the government's top asset wrapped up in this? Oh, they'd hold that close to their chest. They couldn't let anyone else take the credit.

Still, they had to admit….Mr. Kennedy was a fascinating subject.

Most of Umbrella's enemies were just that…enemies. Nameless opposition to their main objective. But soon they became names, faces, people. People like Leon Kennedy. Chris Redfield. Jill Valentine. Many more to count.

Who forced them into the shadows. In hindsight, this was only fair.

Dr. Erickson, Dr. Morales, and an assistant Thompson huddled close together, speaking in hushed tones as their eyes scanned the screens.

"What exactly is the purpose of this? Mr. Kennedy seems to almost be…enjoying the dream presented to him," Dr. Morales pointed out just as Leon, within his dream, pulled you closer to whisper in your ear. His heart rate spiked, brain activity lighting up like a Christmas tree from just a small, intimate act. Quiet moments interlaced with sweet, tender, and increasingly passionate in nature.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Thompson asked, clearly puzzled. "I mean, he’s still vulnerable to the program’s control, right? He’s still part of the experiment. He’s just... well, living in a distorted version of reality." Both the scientists seemed to disregard the assistant's words.

"It's only been a few days and he's—he's fully immersed already. And we haven't even introduced any other aspects to this…dream," Dr. Erickson, the head scientist, explained. His face scrunched in confusion as they stared at the man on their screen. A man completely unaware of anything beyond the realm of this dream. A happy man. For Leon, it was only….you. "Let's get some more info on this Y/N," he instructed.

Leon had become addicted—for lack of a better term. Well, no, that was the best term.

His eyes would glaze over at his desk, the words of his computer screen blurring together to create their own mishmash of words. Yet, he was nothing if not professional with his work.

The waking world had become more dull than he could ever recall it being. Colors muted and lifeless. His mind already seeking ways to disconnect from this world—the missions, the government orders, the endless cycle from disaster to disaster. Despite his best efforts to put on the usual front of nonchalance, he could never escape Hunnigan's watchful eye.

He stood at the coffee machine, hoping a cup of coffee would rouse him back into the paperwork he had left to finish. Still, his mind still gave him brief visions—moments—that kept from completely being tethered to this reality. He saw you in almost crystal clear clarity leaning against the counter, a teasing smile painted on your lips, "You still drink that burnt shit?"

He glanced down at the cup of black coffee, and just before he almost slipped to answer you like you were really there. Hunnigan tapped him on his shoulder.

"Everything good, Kennedy?" She asked, curiosity in her expression. "Looks like you're trying to find all the world's answers in that cup."

Shit. He's more obvious than he thought. Get it together, Kennedy.

Leon gave her a small smile, the corner of his mouth barely moving. "Just tired. The usual."

"The usual?" Hunnigan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "The usual for you doesn't usually involve getting coffee at…" she looked at her watch,"…at three in the afternoon. What's bothering you?"

Jesus Christ, he can't hide anything from this woman. Did he want to tell her? Hunnigan had experienced quite the ordeal with him from Spain and he certainly trusted her more than any other handlers in this place. But, still, he didn't have to tell her. This was his cross to bear, so to speak. In many ways, he was a modern man but on this, his old-fashioned father came to mind, "It's impolite to burden people with your problems."

"It's nothing, really. Just had an off night is all," His voice dipped, lower and quieter, hoping that would stop her questioning for now.

Hunnigan nodded in understanding, "Alright, fair enough. I'll let you get back to your coffee then."

Leon watched as she left, a sinking feeling in his gut that this wasn't over. Now all he'd managed to do is pique Hunnigan's never-ending curiosity. Great.

For once, Leon was glad when the work day was over. And even better, the weekend was coming up. Two whole days where no one would give a rat's ass what he'd be doing, except now probably Hunnigan.

He pulled on his jacket, not looking back to his office for even a moment longer than he needed. Tonight, Leon decided to grab some takeout. The cold as he walked to his usual spot was piercing his skin like needles but he pushed through.

Upon entering the diner, he was greeted with mixing scents of stale coffee, grilled onions, and hot grease. A few people sat in the booths, keeping to themselves. A family with their young child, enjoying a plate of fries and shakes. A woman reading a book over some coffee. A couple huddled close together, sharing a meal, shared laughter, shared glances of affection.

Leon could see it all from the booth as he waited for his takeout. For some reason, he couldn't take his eyes away from the couple, the lingering gazes and gentle touches. All so…easy.

For a moment, he saw the both of you instead. Leon huddling close to whisper something in your ear to make you laugh, seeing it so vividly and hearing your laugh—warm, comforting—as you placed your hand in his. It had to be insanity because he could even feel the pressure of your hand in his.

The dinging of the bell took him out of it. His food was ready. He quickly thanked the waitress as he made his way to leave. The couple still completely wrapped up in one another with no idea that Leon had stared so intensely.

A sense of yearning gripped at his chest like a vice.

He entered the same dreary apartment, tossing down his keys and hanging up his jacket. He wasn't too quick to touch the takeout. Instead, he did what he'd been doing the last few nights, watching TV.

His phone lit up, vibrating on the coffee table where it laid.

Chris Redfield.

He ignored it.

Usually, Leon would be happy to go meet Chris for a beer and catch up on how life had been treating them, but right now? Leon didn't want any time away from the sleep he knew was coming, where he could be with you. He knew he should probably at least tell the idiot he's alive but even that was a chore right now.

So, he watched the screen light up one more time before it stopped.

Chris will just have to understand.

In his dream, Leon was once again with you, the two of you sharing a quiet moment in the soft glow of the evening light. Spilling through the curtains in their shared apartment.

An euphoria washed over him, an intoxicating haze that could've lasted forever.

He again watched you as you guided him to cook a new recipe, scents of garlic and fresh herbs hanging in the air as you moved gracefully through the space. He had never been much of a cook before, but with you, it was easy. Your presence made everything feel effortless—your hands guiding his as he chopped vegetables.

Your laughter filled the spaces between their movements.

The soft crackle of an old vinyl played in the background, a tune from the '70s that was vaguely familiar to him. It only added to the atmosphere making it nostalgic and intimate. The melody wrapped around him like a warm hug, a cocoon of warmth and comfort.

You turned to him, eyes filled with mischief. "You sure you can handle this?" You teased, voice playful yet tender.

Leon chuckled, warm and full of affection. "Well, a fire hasn't started yet, so that's always a good sign, right?" He asked, giving you a lopsided grin.

You smiled back, still holding a familiar glint of love and tenderness in your eyes, and for a moment, nothing outside this kitchen existed. Just them, together in this near perfect, domestic bliss.

As you reached over to stir the pot on the stove, Leon couldn't help noticing how your hair fell softly over your shoulder, the way the light coming from above the stove made your skin glow like nothing else. He moved closer, hands running down your arms in a gentle motion. You don't pull away, instead locking eyes with him and still offering that soft smile.

Leon, not wanting a moment like this to pass, took your hand in his, pulling you gently into him. The sensation was intoxicating—a rush, a high that was exhilarating and equal parts comforting. He couldn't help but to breathe you in, the beat of your heart syncing with his.

"Take a break?" He asked, voice barely a whisper.

You raised an eyebrow, still holding that playful twinkle in your eyes. "Now you're just trying to get out of cooking," you teased but you didn't stop him as he led you across the room.

As you both swayed gently, moving in rhythm to the music, the press of you against was enough to make him feel dizzy. The heat of your skin and softness of your breath as you laid your cheek against his chest.

All of his senses for the briefest moment told him this was real…you're real. No longer held back by the world of impossibilities.

He pulled back slightly, looking at you and just savoring you. He had so much he wanted to say but all it was incondite—inadequate and not all encompassing of how he felt. But as always, you'd say the same thing, from your perspective, Leon had never acted so strangely in your shared space.

Your eyes are soft, almost knowing. "You are being so strange, Leon." Your hand rested on his chest, he'd hoped you feel the beat of his heart underneath.

Instead of words, he leaned in, pressing his lips softly against yours. Kiss slow and tender as he tasted you, the sweetness, the warmth. Lost in you.

He pulled away, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead and responded with a chuckle, "I don't care. I don't care if I'm being strange, I just want this. You."

Your fingers traced his jaw, smiling. "Well, lucky for you, you've got the real thing right in front of you," you said with a wink.

The bliss, pure unadulterated bliss of it all was fleeting just as it had been every other day. The truth seeped in quicker than he expected this time. This is not real. She wasn't here. This place wasn't theirs.

Still, Leon held onto it for as long as he could, unwilling to let go of the dream—if only a few more moments despite the edges of reality caving into this one.

[octuscle]

Peter's body was his temple. He worked hard to make every woman wet when she saw him and every man freeze in awe when Peter flexed his muscles. And his job as a construction worker gave him plenty of opportunities to do so. Although he actually only used the construction site as an extended training ground for posing, and although he spent every free minute in the gym, he had a successful career, was popular with all his colleagues and had nothing to complain about. And yet sometimes he envied his colleagues who went out for a beer after work and stuffed themselves with fast food during their lunch break, while Peter drank gallons of water and otherwise ate only raw meat and salad without dressing.

Peter started his Friday afternoon with a round on the stationary bike while surfing Instagram. “Fancy a weekend of boozing and having fun without regrets?” The ad on Instagram struck Peter like a bolt of lightning. A guy with a paunch was standing at a bar with friends, his T-shirt wet from the beer flowing out of the corners of his mouth as he drank. Shit, yes, Peter used to fancy that. He really wanted to. He clicked on the account. Pictures of fat guys in bars, bowling, in fast food restaurants. Peter actually found that disgusting. A real man shouldn't have an ounce of fat on his body. But really letting himself go for once? Shit, that would be awesome! “Pling” Peter had received a message. From the owner of the account. “Peter, don't dream, just enjoy! How cool would it be to play a round of darts tonight and stuff yourself with chips and beer!” What the hell?!?!!?! How did the guy get his name and address. He hadn't liked anything or anything. Still, the guy had struck a chord with him. “Tell me more,” he replied. “Meet me at the diner, Lincoln Ave. on the corner of 2nd Street. 20 minutes.” Peter was harder than he'd ever been in his life. A weekend of fun. What could possibly happen?

Peter stopped the training. Chuck at reception looked questioningly as he left the gym after just half an hour of training. "Forgot a private appointment!" Peter called apologetically over his shoulder and held his sports bag protectively in front of his boner. Shit, he was really horny at the idea of letting all discipline go for once. The diner was a pretty run-down place. It reeked of old chip grease and cheap cleaning fluids. No wonder there were hardly any customers. Except for one. It was clear that this had to be his contact person. A fat, unkempt pig! With a portion of burger and chips in front of him.

Naked, flabby torso. shit, yes, that's exactly how Peter wanted to spend his weekend. He wanted it so much. No idea where this untamable desire came from. “Hi, call me Zac,” the guy said with his mouth full, spitting chunks of his burger around. “And you want to have fun for a weekend? Do everything you usually deny yourself?” Peter, who couldn't normally complain about a lack of self-confidence, nodded silently with a dry mouth. “Okay, I'll send you a link. Just accept it, tick both terms and conditions and off you go.” Zac wiped the remnants of food from the corners of his mouth with his forearm. Peter's cell phone vibrated. He opened the link. He ticked the box. He clicked on okay. He looked up. He froze.

Something else mingled with the smell of chip fat and cleaning agents. The smell of pure masculinity. Of fresh sweat. Of well-worn sneakers. It smelled like Peter smelled. He no longer noticed the smell on himself. But the man who was suddenly sitting in front of him exuded this smell in masses! Peter felt his hard-on. But his boner was… Smaller! Much smaller! And he was no longer horny at the idea of spending an excessive weekend. He was horny because of the guy in front of him. Shit, what Peter would give if he fucked him now…!

“Dude, thanks a lot! I thought I'd never find another idiot who wanted to swap muscle for fat.” Zac tensed his biceps. “So, makes you horny, doesn't it? Do you want me to fuck you? Not a chance, Piggy! But you can suck me off if you want.” Peter was in a trance. He didn't understand what Zac was saying. Why did he call him Piggy? Peter was still as muscular as ever. But fuck, he had to suck that cock. The place was still almost empty. Peter crawled under the table. There were puddles of chips and Coke on the floor. Zac pulled his boner out of his gray sweat pants. And Peter sucked greedily. The sweat on his balls and cock was pure musk. Yes, it was the perfect start to the weekend. He had never blown a man before. But he knew damn well how to do it. Zac groaned. A large precum stain formed in Peter's pants. And shortly after Zac had squirted his load in Peter's face, Peter squirted too. He had greedily swallowed Zac's load. A little bit still dripped onto his shirt. But there was still more on his shirt than in his pants. Peter was a wanker. Three or four times a day. His balls never had a chance to fill up enough to produce a load like Zac. “Good Piggy!” said Zac, ”Here, this milkshake is your reward, I don't drink that shit anymore.” And without another word, Zac got up and left the diner.

Peter was hungry. Hugely hungry. He didn't care about the stains on his pants and shirt. In fact, they had already dried up. There were a number of similar dried stains. Peter stood at the counter. Three bacon cheeseburgers, two large portions of chips with nacho sauce and a large Coke. That should be enough. For a start. The waitress asked if he wanted an ice cream for dessert. Peter asked for a large portion. An hour and three more burgers later, Peter got up. He stroked his stomach. He vaguely remembered the washboard stomach he had once had. A roll of flab bulged out from between his shirt and trousers. He wiped his ketchup-smeared hands on his greasy trousers. It was almost 5:00 pm. Time to get ready for bowling night with the boys. “Pete's Handyman Service” was written on his pickup truck. It had been a good year since he had started his own business. About the same time he'd said goodbye to the gym. Pete made his way home. Showering before bowling would be silly now, he'd be sweating like a pig again. But he put on a fresh pair of shorts and a fresh T-shirt. And grabbed the bag with his lucky ball and shoes. A glance in the mirror. Yes, he looked good. He was a real guy. Not an effeminate model.

It was around 9 p.m. when Pete threw his last ball. He was finished! It had been a busy week and he'd rarely had as much exercise as he'd had in the last three hours. For the rest of the evening, he was content to talk football with the boys, drink beer and stuff his face with nachos. And waiting for Mike to finish at the bar. Because then he would shag Pete. Mike was a really handsome guy. Actually straight, of course. But for some reason, which Pete was grateful for, he loved fucking Pete's fat ass. Pete didn't fight back! By the time he was lying in bed in his trailer at 02:00, his transformation was complete. It had been ten years since he had changed his life. Since then, he had been living on fast food and beer. He loved his cigars and chewing tobacco. Shit, yes, he was panting like a locomotive after only 200 meters on foot and he could only see his cock under his belly in the mirror. But shit, he had fun in life. His boys and he went bowling, sometimes they went fishing or football (Pete more in the passive observer position). And someone who loved to fuck his flabby ass could always be found. There were a surprising number of fans of his on Instagram and Gaydar. Tomorrow he would do the bookkeeping on the fucking computer. In the past, he'd had someone to take care of that stuff. But business was only so-so… So he had to struggle through it himself…

There was an e-mail in his inbox, sent at around 4 p.m. on Friday. Some shit with terms and conditions that he was supposed to have accepted. Probably some kind of crazy spam. He had a message from Zac on Insta. Phew, how long had it been since he'd been in contact with him? Must have been about ten years. “Piggy, I have to cancel our date on Sunday night. I don't feel like living without this body anymore. Have fun, you fat pig!” Probably spam again. Piggy, er Pete, couldn't remember a date for Sunday night.

Inspiration by @billowingpillowboy

Pics by @ki-kink