#need him to hold my jaw a little too firmly while he shaves my head. need him to give me t injections and tut at me if i act like im in pai

[kunikisss]

thinking about keegan forcemasc yet again... sigh.

[cal-puddies]

Run Your Hands Through My Hair // Calum Hood

I made a joke about writing this. But there was enough requests that I finally did. Of course @kindahoping4forever​ was a champ in helping me with some of these ideas. <3 

Warnings: Scenes including unprotected sex, female oral sex, slight bondage but mostly just sex. 

Word Count: 5389

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist 

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

Cal groans from the hallway.

You wrap the blanket from the bed around your naked body, annoyed that your boyfriend got up to groan and make too much noise in the hall.

“Bubba.” You say, standing in the hallway to look at him, “what’s up?” He's clad in only gray sweatpants, slung too low (or perfectly low for your preference, but no one else needed to see him that way), on his hips.

“The curls are too much.” He groans.

“Excuse me?” You ask.

He turns and looks at you, recognizing your tone. “What?”

“The curls? On the top of your head?” You clarify.

“Yes baby, it’s a lot, want you to shave my head.” He says, running his fingers through the thick curls trying to prove his point.

“No.” You say, swiftly turning back into the bedroom. You get back in bed and pull the blanket over your head.

“What do you mean, no?” He follows you in the bedroom, and sits on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on your side.

You pull the blanket down, “I won’t do it.”

“Yeah I heard you, but why not?” He lays against you and rests his head on your shoulder.

“Baby… if you wanna shave your head, you’re gonna have to call someone else that doesn’t like to yank on your hair when you’re eating their pussy. How about that? Or someone who doesn’t think our sex has been more bomb with your hair grown out.”

“What? How is our sex more ‘bomb’ when my hair is longer?”

You scoot away from him so you can turn and face him. “You probably don’t notice the way your hips drive harder when I pull your hair, or that you moan louder when we fuck, or you man handle me more. But I notice and enjoy all of those things. So if you shave your head, then we both lose.”

“I… don’t think that’s true.” Cal challenges.

“And how do you propose we test this theory?” You cock your eyebrow at him.

Cal smirks and pulls you to him, and under him, “I’m sure I can come up with a couple ideas to restrain you so we can test it.”

“And what if I’m right?”

“If you’re right, and the sex is more ‘bomb’ as you said,” he stops to press his lips to yours briefly, “then I’ll reward you with more bomb sex, and I’ll just get it trimmed.” He pecks your lips again, “but if I’m right and the sex is the same bombness, then you still get bomb sex and you’re shaving my head.” He pecks your lips again.

“When shall we commence?”

“You gotta eat first. I’ll make ya breakfast.” He kisses your cheek and rolls off of you, he grabs his tshirt from the day before and tosses it to you before adjusting his sweatpants higher on his hips.

He walks out of the room leaving you in bed alone. You have half a mind to go back to sleep and he can wake you when whatever he cooks is ready, but you eventually give in, throwing his shirt on and heading for the kitchen.

“I’ve decided on a two tiered approach.” He informs you as you pour coffee. He sets some already crispy bacon near you, “after breakfast, we’ll try the experiment, and after lunch, we’ll try with your hands untied.”

“If you wanted to fuck all day, why didn’t you just say so?” You smirk, grabbing a piece of bacon.

“Well, it wasn’t my original plan for the day, but I can work with what you need.” He explains, taking his eyes off the pancakes long enough to pull you in for a hug and a kiss.

“Is this all you’re making?” You ask, looking at the bacon and pancakes.

“Is there something more you’d like?”

“I mean… if we’re fucking, might need some protein.” You shrug, kissing his jaw.

“Oh I can give you protein.” He grabs your ass and his lips find yours.

You both smirk, “yeah, I was thinking like food protein, not a protein shot from your cock.” You wink, pulling away to get eggs.

“You might get one of those anyway.” He makes room for you at the stove, and nods when you hold the egg up, “2 please, the normal way.”

You nod and set to work making eggs, while he focuses on the pancakes and bacon. “I mean you’d probably deserve a blowie with how many times you’re gonna have to eat my pussy.” You shrug.

He wraps his arms around you from behind, “no no no baby, I want to eat your pussy as much as possible. There’s no room for ‘have to.’” He presses soft kisses to the back of your neck and you shiver. He gently bites the skin before moving away so you can make the eggs and he can finish the pancakes.

He stacks plates for the two of you under the plate with the pancakes and bacon and grabs both coffee mugs while you grab the syrup, forks and pan with the eggs. Cal’s already got plates made up so he grabs the pan from you and serves eggs.

You eat quietly, enjoying each other’s company. When you're done you take it upon yourself to climb into Cal’s lap, straddling him, you tuck your face into his neck. “You ok?” He murmurs against your ear.

“Just wanted to be close to you.”

“You’re gonna spend all day close to me.” He says quietly, moving the hair off your neck so he can kiss behind your ear.

“Not like this though.” You murmur, lips tickling his neck.

“Should I reschedule the experimental fucking? Is this what you need today?” He wonders.

“Mmm… just want you, however I can have you.” You pull back from him, sliding your hips forward as you lean back against the table. You rest your hands on his bare chest, and his fingers tease under the hem of the shirt on your body,

Cal leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You hold his face and deepen it, swiping your tongue across his lip so he’ll open up. He keeps it short between the two of you, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “You can have me however you want. You just say so.” He reminds you.

“I know… but right now, I’m more curious on how you’ll have me.” You smirk. “For the sake of science, I need to know what the plan is so we can make sure we’re recreating correctly.” You gently run your fingers through his hair.

“Gotta eat…” he murmurs, “and figured we’d do something chest to chest.” He preens a bit as you run your nails against his scalp.

“Sounds logical,” you respond quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before draping yourself over him again.

Cal takes the opportunity to hold you, you don’t spend a lot of time like this, he wants to take advantage of your willingness to sit still with him.

Cal doesn’t rush you, he lets you sit with him like that.

And then you’re doing the dishes together, flirty banter continues. He grabs a couple bottles of water from the fridge and then your hand. “C’mon beautiful… we’ve got work to do.” He mumbles, pressing his lips to your cheek and then pulling you toward the bedroom. You sit on the bed and watch as he goes to the closet and pulls out the toy box, you watch curiously, because toys weren’t part of the plan.

He pulls out the silk ties you vaguely remember buying together. “Shit, I forgot about those.” You chuckle. He hands them to you so he can put the box back.

“I only thought of them during breakfast. I was gonna do the belt but that hurts too much after one round and I can’t have you walking around with bruised wrists again.” He grins before slipping in the bathroom to grab the lube.

“You mean you didn’t enjoy explaining to our friends why it looked like someone tied my hands behind my back with a belt and had their way with me.” You call to him, obvious smirk in your tone.

“Ash knew. He just knew.” Cal smirks, coming back in “Luke took a little explaining.”

“Oh god, you corrupted the baby?” You tease.

“No Love, I’m the baby, and you corrupted me.” He leans in for a kiss, pulling the ties away from you.

“Bullshit! If anything we further corrupted each other.” You giggle into the kiss.

“I can agree with that.” He murmurs, crawling on the bed with you and laying you back.

You enjoy the slow make out session, handsy but not overly eager. Cal slips his shirt off your body, and rolls you on top of him. He sighs as you pull back and hold your wrists out for him. He gently but firmly ties your wrists together and then helps you get comfortable on the pillows before tying them to the headboard.

“You’ll tell me if these need loosened?” He asks quietly, looking at you.

“Of course.” You nod.

Cal leans back for a kiss. He cups your face when he pulls back, just looking at you for a beat, and then his plump lips are on your neck, and he kisses down your body. He stops to pay attention to your tits, gently squeezing one while his mouth engulfs the soft flesh and he sucks, his other hand gently teases your other nipple, he kisses across your chest, doing the same on the other side, you let out a breathy moan and he looks up to you. “Doin ok, m’love?”

“You better be planning to be this loving about it later.” You bite your lip as he gently bites just below your tit before swirling his tongue over it.

“I will… I’m sure you’ll remind me.” He grins before continuing his trail down your body. Cal nibbles at both of your hips, and then he’s pushing your thighs up. He kisses down the back of one and gently bites, and then kisses down the back of the other, his hand soothingly caressing the other. He gives a bit harder of a bite and he’s surprised by your minor moan instead of a squeal. “You feelin it baby?”

You tug at your hands because you already wanna run your fingers through his fluffy curls, Cal notices, and before you can answer him, he wraps an arm around your thigh and licks through your folds, you watch his head dip and feel his mouth setting to work to please you. He stops and you whine, he notices it’s the loudest sound you’ve made thus far.

He grabs the headband off the table and quickly puts it on, you usually hold the hair out of his eyes. He quickly sets back to work, listening for your whines and whimpers. He watches you close, he always does, but this time to see if you’re right. He notices you pulling your hands and getting frustrated, and he’s ready to give in, he’s just started and you aren’t having the reaction he’d hoped for, usually tieing you up is a fun thing for the two of you.

He tries not to think about it as he lets his fingers start working you, two in and thumb on your clit while he kisses on your thighs. He sucks a hickey into your thigh, and finally as he curls his fingers into your g-spot you have a reaction he expects, it’s a breathy moan of his name as you start bucking your hips. “Finally,” he mumbles gently biting your thigh and using his mouth to replace his fingers.

“Cal… please.” You moan.

He focuses his tongue and lips over your clit, bringing you to what he determines to be a lackluster orgasm. Not a lot of whining or whimpering, he can’t tell if you’re being stubborn or it really just isn’t as good, and he doesn’t know if that is his fault.

He kisses his way back up to your lips. “You ready for my cock or do you wanna wait a bit?” He murmurs.

“I’m ready.” You assure him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Cal situates himself between your thighs, sitting on his knees. He runs his palms against your thighs and grins at you. “Your arms ok doll?”

“Yeah, handsome, I’m good.” You smile softly at him.

He grabs for the lube, slicking his cock up before teasing it through your folds. He takes it slow to start, pushing in as far as you’ll take him before pulling out and pushing back in, this time getting a bit further.

He watches you bite your lip, enjoying the fullness as he settles all the way in. Cal runs his hands along your thighs and up over your belly, you hum. “I love the way you feel.” You murmur, dopey smile crossing your face.

“Me too, love.” He murmurs, leaning forward to kiss you. He gently starts rocking his hips, building his rhythm. He listens for you, hears your breathing pick up a touch as he moves a bit faster. After a few more minutes and several kisses to your neck, he turns his mouth towards your arms, kisses and little bites along your skin. “Still ok?” He checks.

“It’s actually getting a bit uncomfortable.” You admit.

He stops what he’s doing and sits up. “Do you need it loosened?” Pushing his hands up your skin soothingly, to the ties.

“It’s not too tight, my arms are just burning from being like this.”

He undoes the tie holding your arms up and lets them come down, resting against the pillows above your head. “Better?” He watches you nod, “mmmkay, no hair pulling.” He reminds you and you nod. He leans forward and works back up to his pace, but he can tell something still isn’t quite working for you. “What is it, gorgeous?” He murmurs.

“We just don’t do chest to chest a lot and when we do it’s not for something like this so it feels a bit weird. Do you not feel it?” You ask, getting a bit self conscious about it.

“No baby I do, but I thought you were just being stubborn because you wanna be right.” He smirks.

“Oh I am right, but I’m not trying to ruin your experiment.” You tease.

“Let’s switch this up then.” He grins. He pulls out and pushes you onto your side and settles behind you, putting your back to his chest. His hand skims down your side, grabbing at your knee to spread you. He slips in and works up to his previous pace, he can already tell it feels better for you.

“Calum,” you moan, turning your face toward his. He presses his lips to yours. “Fuck.” You whimper against his mouth.

Cal likes that this is better. You’re definitely into this more. He watches you pull your arms down so you can start rubbing your clit, and he decides to step up his game, pounding into you. “Feels so fuckin good.” He groans in your ear before biting your shoulder.

“Oh fuck… I’m gonna cum.” You whimper. “Please please please.” You beg.

Cals hand replaces yours at your clit, his other hand comes up to massage your tits, and he leans in to groan in your ear, “I knew this stubborn little pussy couldn’t hold out for much longer.”

“Cal…” you moan.

“C’mon… squeeze that cunt around my cock.” He growls.

“Holy fuck…” you whine, letting the orgasm wash over you.

He thrusts a few more times, “milking my cock so good.” He groans, “you love it when I fill you don’t ya baby?” He moans in your ear, pressing his hips hard into yours as he finishes.

You turn your face into his and desperately kiss him, “I do… I really fuckin do.” You moan against his lips.

Cal stays buried in you, wrapping one arm around your waist and using the other to cradle your head, keeping you in the kiss. He lets you catch your breath and then unties your hands, “told you the sex was still good when you couldn’t pull my hair.” He gloats.

“That wasn’t the argument.” You grin, “I said the sex was better, but that was not to insinuate that it wasn’t good in the first place.”

“Fair point.” He hums, kissing your shoulder, “c’mon let’s get cleaned up and we can watch a movie and rest up.”

Cal likes it as you immediately cuddle into him on the couch, he pulls a blanket over the two of you.

“I like our choices for the day.” You hum, turning your head up to kiss along his jaw.

“Oh yeah? What do you want to do tonight then?”

“Depends on how our afternoon goes, I suppose.” You shrug, smiling innocently while pushing your fingers into the waistband of his underwear.

“My little troublemaker.” He murmurs, resting a hand on top of yours, stopping you from going further, “I forget if you wake up for sex youre horny all day.” He chuckles.

“Used to be something you liked about me.” You tease.

“Oh, I love that about you. Just didn't factor it in for today.” He chuckles.

“Hmm.. that’s too bad, because I have this scene in my head of sitting on your face and threading my fingers in your hair… pulling it so you’ll groan into my pussy and lick up into me the way only you can.” You smirk.

“Oh?” He nods, “I’m sure I can accommodate you.” He pinches your ass. “But we’re supposed to be resting.”

“How am I supposed to rest against your half naked bod when all I can think about is how hard I’m gonna get you to fuck me?” You chuckle.

“I don’t know where this doubt comes from that I won’t take care of you but I honestly don’t like it.” He chuckles.

“If you don’t, there are plenty of toys that can.” You wink.

“And I bought us most of those toys… see still taking care of you.” He grins.

You smile, letting out a little laugh, one that Cal loves, “I like you.”

“I like you.” Cal grins, pulling you in to kiss your forehead, holding you tight to his body. He feels you relax into him and within a few minutes you’re asleep. “Knew you’d be tired.” He murmurs.

You sleep for about an hour, and when you get up to go to the bathroom, Cal gets up to make some sandwiches for lunch. He meets you back on the couch and he sits right next to you. “Did you have a nice nap?” He checks, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“I did.” You grin, “thanks for the sandwich.”

“Anytime love.” He hums, “Ash invited us for dinner. Do you think you’ll wanna?”

“Probably… taco night?” You grin

“I’ll request.” He chuckles.

The two of you keep watching tv until Cal gets up to clean up. He comes back and pulls the blanket off your lap, dropping to his knees in front of you, he pulls your underwear down over your ankles and grins while watching your eyes light up. He kisses over your thighs, helps you pull your t-shirt off.

He leans up, pressing his lips to yours for a kiss before murmuring, “finally, what I really wanted for lunch.” He smirks and works his lips down your body.

You bite your lip and gently grip into his hair, pulling his head up. His tongue briefly lulls out of his mouth. “No one was stopping you.”

“You'd let me use your body till you starved if I let you.” He smirks.

“Mmm, I’d still be happy, but youre the same way baby boy.” You smile coyly.

“I happen to know what I like.” He winks, and in one quick motion pushes your legs wide and angles your hips up.

You adjust your grip in his hair, gently running your fingers through the curls before gripping.

Cal takes his first lick, flattening his tongue against your wet opening and then up over your clit, he uses the tip to tease your clit a bit before fully sucking on your clit.

Cal makes sure to pay very close attention to your body. He notices the way you tug his hair and grip into his skin, grabbing his bicep or forearm, reaching for the back of his neck, pulling him and closer as you get louder for him and arch your back off the couch. He quickly realizes how much he enjoys your touches and your sounds, and he starts thinking you might be right.

“Damn baby, so sweet.” He murmurs, working his fingers in, kissing up over your belly to your mouth. “Think your mostly right though, think you just like to touch.” He admits against your lips.

“I won’t concede on this. I like your hair.”

“I hear you gorgeous.” He promises. “But I’m still gonna get it trimmed. Is that ok with you?”

“Just make sure I can still pull.” You murmur against his mouth. “I like how you conceded before the experiment was over.”

“Well, I’m not done yet.” He promises, giving a quick open mouth kiss before kissing back down your belly. “Actually…” he grabs a pillow from the couch and lays back, “someone wanted to sit on my face.”

“Oh fuck yes.” You moan, jumping up from the couch to get on your knees over Calum’s head. “Baby boy.” You coo, looking down at him as he pulls you down on his face.

Cal’s an enthusiastic eater, it’s one of the things you love about him. And he adores having you over him like this, or spread for him, his tongue curiously exploring every inch of you even though he’s had you like this a thousand times.

Cal is immediately moaning into you, talking about your sweet cunt. You love watching him like this, his hands move between your ass and your hips, wrap around your thighs to pull you closer, his hands push up to your breasts to squeeze and pinch your nipples. As always, him eating your pussy is a full body experience. You cum as soon as Calum starts licking up into you, the tip of his tongue pushing into you instead of just fluttering around your opening and and teasing your clit, he recognizes it immediately, the way you shudder and pull his hair, he loves it, pulling you closer and not letting up, letting you feel every bit of his tongue he can get inside of you.

“Oh god.” You moan, “so good handsome,” tugging his hair between your fingers. You try to push away but Cal’s not having it, and before you know it, “no no no no Cal… I’m gonna..” and before you finish the sentence, you’re squirting on his face. He finally lets you go and he’s grinning so wide as you push away from him, landing on your ass next to him. “I’m so sorry bubba.” You say, slightly embarrassed.

He hums in amusement, grin spread wide across his face as he sits up, one hand immediately reaches for you while the other grabs for the shirt you were wearing so he could wipe his face. His hand pushes up your thigh, and he gently teases your clit for a moment before pulling you in at the waist, “I knew you were getting there.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek. “I love when you do that.”

You pout, “I always feel bad for making a mess.”

“It’s always a mess I’m glad you made.” Cal counters, “why don’t you head to the bedroom and I’ll clean this up. Then… I’m aching to get my cock in you.” He smirks and you stop pouting.

Cal takes a little longer than you expect cleaning up, and you’re laying on your stomach facing the door, humming to yourself, just kind of staring off into space. He walks in and you can see the way his hard on strains against his sweatpants and you reach out for him, licking your lips. He moves closer and even as well as he knows you, he still wasn’t expecting you to pull his pants down and get your mouth on his cock. His fingers thread into your hair as you lick the smeared precum off the tip of his cock.

“Love the way you taste.” You grin up at him.

“You’re not supposed to be doing that.” He coos.

“Can’t help myself.” You wink, rolling over onto your back and hanging your head off the edge of the bed. You push his pants the rest of the way down and pull on the back of his thighs so he’ll step closer. You open your mouth and without thinking, Cal’s doing exactly what you want, putting his cock in your mouth. He waits patiently while you slick him up, tongue lavishing over every part of his hot, hard cock. “C’mon baby boy… you know what to do.” You murmur, gently pinching his thigh.

Calum begins to move his hips, gently at first, allowing you to get used to the feeling of his cock in your throat. His body shudders when he feels you moan around him. And it eggs him on, his mind is blank but he can hear his own labored breathing, he doesn’t remember exactly what is supposed to be happening at the moment, but as he looks over your body, he can tell you’re turned on, and enjoying letting him fuck your throat. Your nipples are hard and you keep opening and closing your legs, trying to find a way to get friction. He uses one hand to trail his fingers up from your belly button, over each of your breasts, letting it stop at your throat. He holds it gently, groaning while feeling his cock as it pushes into the tight space beneath your skin. He pulls his cock back as your face turns red and tears spill from your eyes. You grab his slick cock in your hand and start tugging, moving your mouth to his balls, Cal enjoys it briefly, before realizing, “hey… I’m supposed to be fucking you.” He accuses with a slight chuckle, running his fingers through your hair.

You pull off his balls with a pop, “technically you still are.”

He rolls his eyes and casts a disdainful glance down at you, pulling out of your reach. “You know what I mean.”

“C’mon baby boy.,. Just want a taste.” You whine, rolling back onto your stomach, reaching for him.

“I’ll make sure you get a taste… when it’s dripping out of you.” He decides. He gets his pants off the rest of the way and steps to you, “com’ere little one. Show me your sweet cunt.” You turn your body on the bed, bending your knees and spreading your thighs. Cal kneels on the bed, “I never ever get tired of this sight.” He grins, gently swiping the head of his cock through your slick folds. “Dripping for me, pretty girl.”

He’s barely sunk himself in before you decide he’s taking too long, using the leverage you have from your feet to fuck yourself on his cock. Cal smacks your thighs and you moan out, grabbing your breasts, pulling at your hard nipples, “fuck… yessss…” you moan.

“I’m supposed to be fuckin you, naughty little one.”

“Then fuckin come here and do it, Calum.” You reach out for him.

Calum lowers himself so he’s against your chest, his chains dangling against your skin. “So mean when you want it.” he chuckles, kissing you.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling his hair and his head away from you so you can attach your lips to his neck, while his hips pound against yours. “Harder.” you whimper, digging your fingers into his skin.

Cal grunts in response, but his hips respond in the way you asked.

Each request of “harder” is met with harder thrusts, his hips ultimately hitting yours hard enough to bruise both of you.

“Harder… deeper….” you whimper, tugging on his hair, nails digging into his bicep.

“God dammit.” He groans, knowing you don’t get this way often. He easily lifts you from the bed, surprising you, he bounces you on his cock a couple of times while deciding between the wall and the bedside table. He makes a split second decision and holds you still against him, swiping an arm across the bedside table. It’s not the first time he’s replaced the lamp and it won’t be the last. He sets you on top of it, moving you so your legs are pressed against his chest.

You immediately grip into him, “fuck… that’s perfect,” you whimper and it’s met with a growl from Calum and his grip on your hips tightens. He watches your head fall back against the wall as you mutter breathy confirmations about how good it is around his name and just general utterances of ‘fuck’.

He watches your body, he knows you’re close. He lets one hand trail up your body, cups your tit and pinches your nipple, and then he lets his hand rest gently at your neck. He gently moves his hand up higher and grabs your jaw, pulling you to look at him, “cum” he growls, and you do… loudly, long drawl of his name as you clench so tight around his cock. He pushes your legs to either side and you do your best to wrap them around Calum. You keep your eyes on him while he works on finishing, and he holds an intense gaze with you.

“C’mon baby boy, fill me with cum.” You coo at him. His face falters for a second and a growl leaves his mouth, and with two more thrusts and a grunt, he’s  cumming. “Fuck that feels so good.” You murmur. Cal pulls you in against his heaving chest, “see, I told you.” You kiss his chest.

“Well then.” He kisses the top of your head, “you were clearly correct, though I think the data may be skewed, but I’ll allow it.” He murmurs.

You grin at him, and then kiss the middle of his chest, you kiss over to the right and flick your tongue over his nipple and he grabs your hair, pulling your head back. “Mmm mmm baby, four in one day is a lot for you, if we go for five you’ll be cranky at dinner.” He tsks.

“No, I won't!” You protest.

“Yes you will.” He nods at you, “you get cranky when you're tired and i've been working this body all day. Maybe when we get home and I put you to bed.”

“You’re gonna put me to bed?” You challenge.

“Yeah, ‘cause your tired ass won’t do it yourself. So I’ll do it.” He nods, “now,” he gently trails his thumb over your lips, “put this sassy mouth to work and clean my cock.”

You lick the tip of his thumb as he pulls out and away from you. You get on your knees and clean the mixed cum off his cock, squeezing the last bit of his cum out onto your tongue. Without saying a word he reaches down and picks you up under your arms, once you’re on your feet he turns you around and bends you over the bedside table, dropping to his knees to clean the cum from your pussy. He shares it in a kiss before tucking you in for a nap.

“Wait, where are you going?” You murmur, exhaustion taking over.

“I’m gonna shower and go get my hair trimmed. I’ll be back quick, love. You’ll probably still be asleep.” He promises.

“Cal..” you whine.

“Rest you up love, if you’re not your normal sassy self Ash is gonna know something is up.” He chuckles.

“Hopefully it’s you.” You grin sleepily at him.

“Insatiable huh?”

“Sometimes it be like that, Hood.” You reach for his hand, “I love you. Thanks for hearing me out before shaving your head.”

“Well you saved me from the biggest mistake of my life, so I should be thanking you.” He kisses your palm, “love you too baby girl.” He murmurs.

[mrs-march-ahs]

Taking Care of Kai Anderson in Prison

I think this is kind of a weird idea, but I wanted to write it anyway!

Warnings- smut, manipulation, Daddy kink, Kai Anderson. Words- 3k

Summary- Blue hair and bearded Kai is put in prison, and it’s your job to shave his head and beard because, being a violent prisoner, he isn’t trusted with a razor. He plays mind games with you and finds out exactly what he wants to know, and uses it to his advantage.

----

You gather your necessary items and walk down the prison corridor, scanning your badge to open every double door on the way. You walk towards the door of the room you need to be in, and you look through the one-way mirror to look at the prisoner inside. Kai Anderson, the leader of a murderous cult, just went through all the paperwork and confessions needed to be locked away for the rest of his life. The guards inside hold him very firmly and get ready to sit him down. It’s a very high security room, multiple guards outside looking in, a secured metal chair with hand restraints on either side, and a locked door. You scan your badge to enter and he immediately looks at you but says nothing. This has been your job for multiple months and after years of training, being around dangerous men and convicted criminals wasn’t new to you. But something about his relaxed face, and his body looking so comfortable despite all the restraints, made you nervous. Your job so far at the prison is to take care of the vulnerable, but this man didn’t look it. You walk over to the table and lay down everything you’re holding: an electric shaver, shaving cream, knife and a towel, to try and take away as much of his identity as possible. He needed taking care of, and being in the high security wing, he wasn’t trusted with a razor. The guards finish tying his hands to the cuffs on the arm rests of the seat and look at you.

“Want us to do his feet too?”, one of the guards says, motioning to the similar cuffs at the feet of the chair.

Kai looks over at you calmly and raises his eyebrow, asking the same question.

“No don’t bother”, you pick up the towel and walk over to him. “What will he do? Trip me up?”.

This silly comment earns a slight smile from Kai and he looks at the guards. They point to the one-way mirror and walk outside, to remind you that they will be watching in case you need them. They leave and shut the heavy metal door behind them. You wrap the towel around Kai’s neck and slide your hands on his shoulders, smoothing it out before picking up the shaver and running your fingers through his greasy blue hair.

“I need to shave your head, is that okay?”, unsure whether he knew what he came in here for. He slowly nods once and continues looking ahead of him at the mirror. You take a breath and run the shaver through his thick hair, watching it fall on his shoulders and on the floor. After a few strips, the side of his head is all shaved and you look at him in the mirror. He turns his head slightly to get a better view, then looks straight forward again, completely unmoved by what you’re doing. The stillness in his face and the silence in the room unsettles you. You continue shaving him, shuffling around him, trying to be careful and thorough but also wanting this to end as soon as possible. He notices the effect he has on you and speaks up.

“When my sister was little and she had to get her first haircut, she sat and sobbed, she was so scared”, he begins telling you, looking himself dead in the eye. You glance at him in the mirror and nod to show you’re listening.

“So, I took some scissors and chopped some of my own hair off, to show her it wouldn’t hurt”.

You smile at his anecdote and look at him in the mirror, and he looks back at you. His eyes pierce through you and his serious expression doesn’t change. The stare makes you turn back to his head and shave the last few strips of head he has left.

“That’s sweet”, you say softly. “You’re a good big brother”.

You finish shaving him and rub your hand over his now bald head. He nods at your comment and tilts his head to the sides and looks at his new cut, with his face still as serious as before and eyebrows furrowed slightly. You watch him inspect his new look and mix up the shaving cream.

“They say that a girl’s relationship with her older brother is more important than the one with her dad”, you walk over to him, stirring the shaving cream and nod in agreement. You make eye contact in the mirror and you add, “I’m close with my brother, I can tell him anything”. Though you knew that anything you told the prisoners could be used against you, you couldn’t help but feel so awkward that you wanted to say anything to keep the conversation going, and not bring back the deafening silence. You lean down at his side and begin putting the shaving cream on his face.

“And your dad?”, he asks quietly. “What’s your relationship with him like?”.

A million thoughts go through your mind, debating whether to tell him anything. Although he had no right to know, it didn’t seem like a big deal to tell him a few things. As you contemplate your next move, you try to focus on the task at hand and why you’re here in the first place, but you’re interrupted when Kai turns his face to look at you. His deep black eyes look into your soul. It seems like he already knew everything there is to know about you, even though he just met you. You inhale nervously and turn your focus back on putting cream on his face.

“It’s good”, you say quietly, which prompts a single amused exhale from the criminal. You resist the temptation to question him and instead walk over to get the knife from the table.

“Why are you lying to me?”, he asks, smiling. You take the knife and squat next to him. You can’t help but give him a puzzled look and feel even more uncomfortable at him smiling than looking serious. You shave one strip up his neck and his jaw and wipe it on the towel around his shoulders.

“I was honest with you, why aren’t you being honest with me?”, he asks quietly but firmly, looking at you in the mirror, inspecting your body language. “You have Daddy issues, don’t you?”, he states, confidence dripping off every word and the question solely rhetorical.

“I said it’s good”, you reply defensively, trying to not give him satisfaction in knowing anything about you, especially without you telling him directly.

“Don’t worry, I know what it’s like to have a shit father”.

You turn his face to look at you while you carefully run the knife along his neck, curving at his Adam’s apple. You focus on looking at his lips and chin while shaving him, but you can feel the burning stare right into your focused eyes. Looking down at you, letting you shave around his lips, he stays silent but smirks slightly. After you wipe the blade, his mouth opens once again, and his words catch you off guard.

“You just want a Daddy to protect you, hm?”

His filthy and overly confident words surprise you into looking at him. A combination of his sly smirk and his black eyes staring at you make your insides burn. You feel your cheeks flush and try to look away from him, but you simply can’t. This time you could tell the question wasn’t rhetorical, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

“You want Daddy to take care of you?”.

You stand up off the floor, not breaking eye contact, and breathe in a wobbly breath. You attempt to open your mouth, but you know no words will come out, so instead you clench your jaw, and remember who’s in charge. You blink hard and look away from him, taking the towel off from his shoulders and wipe his face clean, and then put it aside. When you return to your spot by his side, he glances over at your watch.

“We still have 7 minutes until o’clock, when I assume you have to go. Let me show you a trick”.

You look him up and down intrigued, completely restrained by his wrists and wonder what he could do. He bends his wrist upwards as much as the restrains will let him and sticks out his pinky finger. You squat in front of him and link your pinky with his, earning a smile from him.

“We’re linked now. If you lie, I’ll know.”

You nod slowly a few times and quickly look over your shoulder at the mirror behind you, feeling security at the fact that guards are watching you through the one view mirror. When you look back at Kai, he smirks at you softly and leans his head down, not breaking eye contact.

“Do you feel safer to know that they’re watching us?”, he asks, making you inhale nervously. Although it’s your fault for making it obvious, the prisoner isn’t meant to be he’s being watched. You take a deep breath and decide to test him.

“It’s just a mirror, I was looking at yo-”

“Weren’t you listening?”, he snaps, clearly aggravated by your lie. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before repeating himself, even more condescending this time. His voice was barely raised but your heart immediately starts pounding faster. You felt so naked and vulnerable in front of this man that you wondered if he could see your heart beating right through your chest.

“If you lie, I’ll know”.  

You furiously nod at him, not daring to take your eyes off him this time.

“What are you feeling right now?”.

You inhale sharply and take a big gulp before answering as honestly as you could.

“Terror”, you reply quietly. He exhales once in amusement, and continues to burn you with his stare, thinking of another thing to ask you. But before he has the chance to think of anything else, you decide to be brutally honest with him. Perhaps more than you should be.

“Can I be honest?”, you whisper at him, looking up at him with puppy eyes, trying to control your face to maintain as blank of an expression as you can. He nods once and waits patiently for you to continue. The second that question comes out of your mouth, your stomach fills with regret, knowing that you shouldn’t say anything more. Although every bone in your body knows that this is a bad idea, you can’t help but look at his strong veiny hands and melt inside.

“The worst part a-about you isn’t the terror”, you begin. His eyebrows come closer together in intrigue.

“It’s the arousal”. You can physically see his ego grow larger as he listens to your heart-felt confession and laughs breathily, letting your words loiter in the air for a few seconds before responding.

“I’m not sure I believe you”, he says, slightly shaking his head. “Prove it”. Your eyes widen and you blink slowly not sure what he means. The warmth coming from his strong hand spreads through your body and lingers on your thighs and your heat.

“I’m not sure what you mean”. He listens to you and sighs. After a few seconds, he explains.

“Girls think they’re always so sneaky, they think all guys think about is sex, when in reality, we both know girls think about it even more”. You gulp and try to take your eyes off his, but feel like they’re glued onto him.

“When you sit on a man’s lap, he can feel the warmth coming from between your legs. But if you’re aroused, you can feel you pulsating”. You quiver your lips at his dirty words and fail to understand the simple instruction he is giving you.

“What does that mean? I mean- what do you want me to do?”. He leans closer to you, and with every approaching inch your legs almost give up. You wobble slightly when his face comes so close to yours that you can feel his breath.

“Sit on Daddy’s lap, and let him feel you throb”. The second the pet name leaves his lips, butterflies fill your tummy. Your pussy gushes out wetness at his quiet, almost secretive, tone of voice, and demands to be touched more than ever before.

For the first time in minutes, but what felt like hours, you manage to take your gaze off his hypnotizing eyes and flicker down at his lips. He was so close, if you wanted to, you could kiss him. Because of your multiple seconds of delay, he cockily reiterates, whispering to you, his lips inching even closer to yours.

“Unless of course, you’re not aroused, and you’re lying, again”. He says, emphasising the again. He of course could tell that you were not lying, but enjoyed toying with you. Although he only met you minutes ago, he knew exactly what buttons to push.

Very slowly, you nod your head and looks at his pinky holding yours. Without breaking eye contact, he straightens out his pinky to let you go and sits up proudly, trying to scoot as far forward off the chair as possible, due to his wrist restraints.

You stand up, silently begging your knees not to give up, and gulp, before straddling one of his knees. He watches you closely as you hesitantly creep your hands to hold onto his shoulders, before pulling them away. He whispers discreet words of encouragement, “Hold onto Daddy”, making you lay your hands gently on his strong shoulders, and your pussy flutter at the name again. He hums in approval at the pulsating heart beat he feels on his knee from your throbbing heat. Without being told to, or rather, given permission to, you try to gently brush your pussy against him harder, hoping to get some release. The second Kai notices and feels your wetness through all the layers of fabric between you, he decides to help you, and suddenly bounce his leg. The unexpected movement against you makes you gasp slightly, and hold onto his broad shoulders. The sheer fact that such minimal touch earned such a strong reaction from you makes Kai smirk, and start bouncing his leg rhythmically. Every time you jump slightly at fall back against his knee, you end up griding across it, making friction against your clit. The pressing and kneading against your sensitive spot makes you bite your lip as all the arousal from your entire body goes straight between your legs. The shakiness in your knees and the tingle in your thighs runs towards your heat, making you practically drip on him. With a particularly hard bounce, you can’t help but gasp and hold onto his shoulders harder, closing your eyes in pleasure and looking down, too ashamed of how good he makes you feel. The overwhelming feeling forces a moan out of your lips, making Kai smirk. He watches you bite your lip and refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he’s making you feel, and feels threatened.

“Keep your eyes on Daddy”, he says, making you open your eyes instantly, and adding enough of a sensual touch to your pussy that you are almost brought over the edge. When you look at him, his black eyes lock you in and you have no trouble maintaining eye contact, despite slowly approaching your orgasm. Embarrassment flushes your cheek as Kai watches you, about to come undone from such a soft movement on his part, and having not masturbated in a while nor had sex, you were too stressed and focused on your job to take care of yourself. Maybe he was right, you needed a Daddy to do it for you. You grab onto his broad shoulders and completely let go, not grinding on him anymore, just letting him make you cum. Just as you hit your peak, Kai looks over at your hand on his shoulder, and without warning, he puts his bouncing to a halt and looks at you with a cheeky smirk.

“I think I have to go to my cell now”, he says with a cocky expression. You breathe heavily and look at him with pleading eyes, denied your finish. The realisation of what you just did hits you and you open your mouth slightly. As you slowly get off him, he continues looking at you clearly proud of himself. You stand in front of him for a few seconds before slowly walking to the door, and unlocking it, hoping your heart slows down before it jumps out of your throat. Or drops from between your legs. The smirk on Kai’s face widens when you look back at him, and then look at all the things on the table, deciding to leave it all there. You take a deep breath and smile at Kai, before putting your hand on the door handle, and whispering to him.

“Bye, Daddy”.

He smiles and nods at you and you step out of the door and shut it behind you, trying to regain control over your body after he made you feel like jelly. When you look over at the security guards standing in front of the one-way mirror, embarrassment burns you from the inside, and you flush completely red, having forgotten that you were watched the whole time. They look at you awkwardly and one of them puts his hand in his pocket, making your eyes glance at the bulge he’s trying to hide. The eye contact between the three of you silently agrees to never speak of this, and you walk away, trying to hide the smile covering your face.

You’re left to wonder how a man so restrained can have you completely wrapped around his finger. Later than day when you go back home, the second the front door shuts behind you, memories of Kai fling back to your mind, making you shiver. That night, when you lay in bed with your hand down your pants, all you can think about is your new Daddy.

[rebeccccccaaa]

ɢʀᴀᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ

____________________

ʙᴏᴅʏɢᴜᴀʀᴅ!sᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʀᴏɢᴇʀs x ᴍᴏʙʙᴏss!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: Mob boss!Readers x bodyguard!Steve Rogers Some other gang leader doesn’t believe reader is the boss bc she’s a woman and he tries to manhandle her until Steve attacks him and then she thanks him with smut

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Smut 18+, major angst, but there’s fluff because I can’t help myself ;)

ᴛᴡ: sᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴀssᴀᴜʟᴛ/ʜᴀʀᴀssᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴅᴇᴘɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴜɴ ᴜsᴇ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: Ah! I’ve never written anything about mobs and shit I’m so excited!

_____________________

“I’ll be fine,” you cupped Steve’s face.

“I should go in there with you. You’ve never met this guy and the others said he was creepy,” Steve sighed resting his hand on your hip. Steve was essentially your bodyguard highly recommended by your father when you took over the mob. 

“Sit here and eat your muffin, read your newspaper and if anything happens I’ll shout,” you grinned. 

“Y/n,” Steve said sternly.

“Sit down,” you patted his shoulder. 

He eventually sat beside the door grabbing the newspaper before taking an aggressive bite of his muffin making you giggle. You fluffy his hair before entering the room for your meeting with another boss. Your father advised you to expand trading and you’ve never been one to be ‘social’ so it was something you put off for years now. But now it’s getting late so here you are talking to a creep that offered a trade with you.

“Hi, thank you for coming,” you said entering the conference room. 

“Why hello? Aren’t you a cute little thing,” the man snarled.

“Excuse me?” you quipped. 

“Well, had I known there’d be a little plaything for me while I wait I would’ve come by sooner,” he stood up towering over you.

“I’m sorry, you must be very mistaken, sir. We don’t degrade women here,” you smiled sarcastically.

“Haha, you’re funny. I do like women who can make me laugh,” he grabbed at your hips.

“Sir, you are incredibly mistaken. I am the leader of this mob and if you lay your disgustingly meaty hands on me one more time I won’t hesitate to put a bullet through your thick skull,” you growled. The man’s temper bursted and he aggressively grabbed your throat pulling you too close to his body. 

“Listen here you little brat, you’re gonna do what a woman was meant to do and if you don't get on your knees baby girl you’ll get what’s coming to ya.”

“Get off of me!” you shoved him back.

“Nu-uh pretty girl, you’re gonna suck my cock until the big man gets here whether you like it or not!”

Steve sat eating his muffin trying his best to ignore the muffled voices from inside the conference room. He couldn’t help but worry about your safety being with that creep. When the guy first arrived he groped one of the housekeepers and laughed as if he did nothing wrong. Steve sat there desperately hoping this meeting with that scumbag doesn’t go well and you'll drop him. He can’t even imagine working with a man like that, especially when you're a woman. 

Suddenly he heard a shriek emerge from the room and Steve bursted through the door. He pulled his gun out seeing the man bending you over your own desk pulling the hem of your pants. Steve aimed the gun and shot the man in the back of his knee making him fall to the ground groaning in pain. 

“Fuck,” you groaned running to Steve. He held you tightly in a panic and you breathed heavily against him. 

“Are you ok?” he asked. 

“I think so,” you swallowed loudly. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” you looked at the writhing man on your floor. 

“I’m sorry, fuck! I’m sorry!”

“Steve, get out,” you ordered.

“No, sweetheart I���m not leaving you alone again with this man,” he raised his voice.

“Steve, please,” you looked at him.

“Baby,” he sighed.

“Go!”

You looked back at the man still squirming on the floor in pure agony. You pulled a pack of cigarettes off your desk placing one between your chapped and bitten lips. You walked around the desk keeping your eye trained on the shithead. You grabbed your lighter and lit the cigarette before reaching inside one of your drawers and grabbing a gun. 

The silvery metal reflected the smallest light around your office as you approached him. 

Steve stood in the hallway with his hand resting on the handle of the door, biting his lip anxiously. His heart sank when he heard a gunshot and he bursted through the door finding you sitting with a cigarette between your lips and your gun in hand. 

“What the hel-” he found the man dead bleeding from his head. You stared at the body in disgust, blood spattered on your face and clothes. You dragged the poison and blew the smoke into the air. Steve slowly walked up to you cupped your face to look at him. 

“What happened?” he whispered. 

“I made sure he never does what he did to me to another woman ever again,” you said monotonously.

“Come here,” Steve picked you up and you tossed the cigarette on the dead man burning his bloodied face. 

Steve carried you to your room and sat you on your bed. You stayed still staring at nothing while Steve grabbed you a towel. He cleaned the blood of your face and tears fell down your face. You felt humiliated and violated. 

“Are you ok?” Steve whispered, afraid as if he spoke too loud he would startle you. 

“Yeah,” you choked out.

“No, you’re not.”

“Steve, I am. Truthfully. If you hadn’t been there, I can’t even imagine what would have happened,” you breathed out heavily calming yourself. 

“I owe you a great debt, Steve,” you said softly. 

“No you don’t, I’m just doing my job.”

“Thank you,” you leaned in closely and brushed your nose against his.

Suddenly Steve felt small. He was always a confident man, something you deeply admired about him, but being able to make him feel this way, all bothered and shy, gave you a sense of even more power over him. 

You brushed a hair from his face and moved to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his thighs. You circled your hand down to his chin lifting it slightly to make him look at you with those gorgeous blue eyes; like sapphires.

“I see the way you look at me Steve,” you whispered.

“We can’t,” he said back.

“Why not? I know how bad you’ve wanted me,” you trailed your hand down his chest.

“Y/n, you’re vulnerable. I can’t take advantage of you like that,” he said. You have this desire to regain control after what happened and conquering Steve would do just that whether you admit it or not. He wants to so badly have his way with you but he knows he’s just a grievance. You’ll wake up the next morning and pretend this never happened, that the words he’d whisper to you are just that, words. The love he’d give you isn’t reciprocated. He can’t let you break him like that. 

“What’s going on?” you asked seeing him in a sort of mental battle.

“Nothing, you should rest,” he said.

“I don’t want to rest. I don’t want to be alone,” you told him.

He looked at you with soft eyes, clenching his jaw tight. His hands were resting on your hips and he desperately fought the urge to move them; under your shirt, over your cheeks or thighs, anywhere, he wanted to feel you so bad. 

“Steve,” you breathed out, practically moaning. 

“Fuck,” Steve said with frustration.

“Please,” you cupped his face.

When he did say anything you got off of him and slowly made your way to the bathroom. Steve sat there regretful breathing out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You were right there. In his arms and he pushed you away. 

You came out again wearing simple nightwear and trotted to Steve once again. You didn’t sit on his lap despite the both of you secretly wishing you would again but you did sit fairly close; your shoulder pressed against his. 

You rested your head on him, the both of your staring at the floor in silence. You slowly up at him cupping his bearded jaw with your delicate hand. You brushed the hairs with your fingers, you’d always preferred his beard than without. You had been the one to convince him not to shave and you had been the one he did it for. 

You couldn’t stop yourself and neither could Steve when the two of you met in the middle, your lips pressing against each other perfectly. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling and his hands went to where they belonged on your hips. You two kissed for what felt like an eternity; an eternity of pure lust and ecstasy. Steve pushed you down to lay flat on your bed, his hips settling between your legs. 

“Tell you want me, tell me how much you need me,” Steve said against your lips.

“I want you, I need you, so fucking bad,” you moaned.

“Tell me this is real,” he said with his eyes screwed shut. 

Steve had been so enamored by you since the day he met you. He used to work for your father before he retired and he insisted that Steve worked alongside you, to protect you. You were hesitant about having him around, independency clouding your mind when you became leader, but little did Steve know you had become very fond of the man at your side everywhere you went. 

He occupied every part of your mind for years now. The confidence he oozed, and sexiness he projected; how could anybody not fall in love? He was the source of the many nights you laid alone in bed, your hand between the junction of your thighs, writhing and panting dreaming of his body pressing against you just as he now. 

Steve fought his desires just as long as you did. When he looks at you, he can’t help the stutters and skips his heart makes. When you laugh, especially at something he says, he feels like a little boy again talking to his crush from school. You’re just so beautiful and dauntless, graceful and fearless. He can’t help but fall in love. Anyone would. 

“Steve, look at me, please.” 

Steve’s eyes pried open, terrified you would disappear if he did.

“This is real. I want you so badly; I need you. Please make me feel good,” you whispered against his lips. 

Steve kissed passionately before moving his lips across your jaw line, nipping and biting the soft skin. His hands held your waist firmly under your shirt, gently squeezing your sides making you giggle. 

“That tickles,” you giggled.

“The scary mob boss is ticklish?” Steve joked. 

“Stop it!” you shrieked when he tickled harder.

Steve laughed at you for a moment before capturing your lips in a kiss once again. He pulled up again sitting back on his knees bringing you with him up to his chest. He looked into your lust blown eyes carefully lifting your shirt. You eagerly raised your arms allowing him to discard it before you did the same to him.

You marveled at his toned body, your hands smoothing over his muscles and the little hairs that littered his chest. Steve's hands came up your side, his thumbs grazing lightly over your perked nipples making your body shiver with need. 

He sat comfortably bringing you to your knees so he was in line with your chest. He leaned forward and kissed all over before wrapping his lips around your nipple. His tongue swirled around it and his teeth grazed the nub before releasing with a pop and doing the same with the other.

The feeling of his tongue made you extremely aroused soaking your panties. You breathed heavily relishing in his attention. Your fingers combed through his hair lightly pulling on his long strands. He groaned softly, his eyes fluttering in pleasure. You’ll keep that in mind.

You sank down fully sitting in his lap, when you felt him poking you through both of your fabrics. You hand snaked down in between your bodies and you pressed on his erection with your hand, making him groan again. 

“Fuck, don’t tease me.”

“Then take these off.”

You quickly got off of his lap and he hurried to stand and take his pants off. You giggled at the sudden flurry of clothes but your face quickly turned to shock when you saw the size of Steve for the first time. 

“Baby, that’s not going to fit in me,” you said, making him chuckle.

“We’ll never know if we don’t try,” he winked. 

You bit your lip and laid back for him. He rubbed your legs softly curling his fingers over your bottoms and reluctantly pulled them down your legs. He kissed your legs up to your stomach before coming face to face with you once again. 

He kissed you with need like he would never be able to again after tonight. He doesn’t feel convinced that this is real. That tomorrow when you wake up beside you’ll realize that maybe you don’t fancy him like you say right now.

You reached forward wrapping your hand around his cock looking up at him with faux innocent eyes licking and biting your lips seductively. Steve could help but groan as he laid atop of you, hard as rock. 

Steve kissed your lips and he swears that he could stay like this forever. Your lips, although chapped and dry, were so addictive and obsessive. Your legs wrapped around his hips and your arms around his shoulders pulling him close to you as if he’d float away. He pushed slowly in you and you let out a shaky moan. Steve’s head that was buried lifted quickly, looked at you and whispered soft praises to you. 

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he whispered against your lips.

“Steve, move please,’ you moaned. 

He snapped his hips back and rutted into you over and over again. He placed his hand on your lower belly and felt his cock poking with each thrust. He grabbed your hand and placed it there too and you gasped at the fleeing before moaning loudly.

“Fuck, Steve,” you whimpered.  

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. God, you feel amazing. Pussy’s fucking perfect; you’re perfect,” he said against your ear. His words made your stomach flutter and your heart burst. He kissed the skin below it and your body shuddered at the feeling of his cool lips against your hot skin. Your hands raked through his long hair and you tugged on the locks bringing his head back up. You instantly attached your lips to his kissing him messily and passionately. 

Your pants and moans became louder with each thrust he got closer to making you release. You moaned his name over and over like a prayer. Steve grunted and his chest tightened feeling overwhelmed by you. 

His hips faltered and you pushed his shoulders rolling over with his cock still inside you. You quickly moved your hips back and forth, your hands pressing flat against his chest to support you, nails scratching his chest leaving dark red marks. Steve’s hands reached for your breasts, his thumbs grazing over your hardened nipples. His hands landed in their place on your hips guiding you, though you didn’t need it much.

“Fuck, baby. I’m gonna come,” he moaned.

“Come in me, fuck! Stevie, I want it all, give it to me,” you said staring at his lips. 

“Fuck!”

Steve snapped his hips up and you felt his hot cum coating your walls. The feeling overwhelmed you and you came in time with him. Your eyes rolled back, your back arched, and you felt incredible. This career, if you can call it that, has run into plenty of lousy men and you wasted many hours with them but this, you could bask in the feeling of Steve’s arms and fully be content with life. 

You fell forward and Steve wrapped his arms around you. You breathed heavily and Steve’s hand rubbed your head lovingly. Your eyelids felt heavy and you couldn’t help the tiredness that overcame you. Steve laid there carefully listening to your breathing even out. He couldn’t believe that you were actually laying, naked and beautifully, in his arms. He dreamed of this moment more than he liked to admit.

Hours later you felt yourself suddenly wake. You were in a cold sweat shaking uncontrollably. You got off Steve who was still sleeping soundly beneath you. His face was so angelic, no it was god like. He looked so at peace you felt awful disturbing his comfort when you crawled off him quietly.

You grabbed one of the thin sheets that had fallen to the floor and wrapped lazily around your body and walked to the large window of your room. You looked out the window before grabbing the pack of cigarettes and lighter sitting fixed on the window ledge waiting to be used during your lowest moments.

You felt vulnerable. 

Steve laid on your bed and you really appreciated him. You genuinely liked him and you know he probably doesn’t believe you yet. He was so charming and compassionate. He protected you especially after what happened today. 

What happened today. God, you can imagine what would happen, what you would do to get out of that awful situation but when it happens, when it becomes reality… you forget everything. You forget how to breathe, how to move. It was terrifying. Even after everything you’d seen being a boss. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” Steve came up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you. 

“God! You fucking scared me,” you looked at him.

“Sorry,” he smirked. 

He leaned forward and placed kisses along your shoulder and neck. You dragged the cigarette, closing your eyes at the delicious feeling of Steve’s kisses. His hands grazed under the sheet, his fingertips tickling the skin of your belly.

“Stop it,” you warned.

“Oh right, the scary mob lady is ticklish. I’ll keep that in mind,” he whispered, his lips against your ear.

“I swear to god, Steve. I’ll fire you,” you chuckled.

“Are you feeling any better? If that’s possible,” he said after a moment.

“You’re here with me,” you told him. 

“Please don’t leave me,” you teared up. This was the first time Steve had ever seen you vulnerable, visibly upset, crying. He’s never seen you cry.

“I would never leave you; not unless you want me to,” he cupped your face. 

“Thank you.”

Steve took the cigarette from your fingers and brought it to his lips dragging smoke and blowing it out the open window. You smiled at him before kissing his lips softly. 

“Come back to bed; it’s cold,” he placed the cigarette in the ashtray. 

You closed the window and Steve picked you up taking you to bed. You cuddled by his side, pressing your cold body against his warm one. You buried your face into his neck and fell sound asleep. He made you feel safe and protected. You easily let your guard down when you were with him and after tonight you really felt your walls coming down for him. And Steve was more than willing to come in. 

 ===================

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison​

@buckybarnes101​

@l-sofiamia-l 

[ushidoux]

Bury the Dead, then Other Things - Matsukawa x Reader

Summary: You figure out what Matsukawa does for a living and you’re more than a little intrigued by his day, er, night job. Inspired by @vixen-scribbles‘s post! (~1.4k words)

Warnings: nsfw, fem!reader, dead bodies, lack of respect for the dead

A/N: I hope the characterization of Mattsun isn’t off, I need to do a second watch (or watch season 4 lmfaooo)

---

When Matsukawa revealed to you that he worked at a funeral home, over heavily-dressed pasta, glasses of red and white wine, and freshly-baked rosemary bread, you briefly considered that it was an odd choice for such a laid back young guy as him. However, you didn’t dwell on the thought, choosing instead to enjoy your first of many dates. He had brushed past it himself after all, focusing instead on bites of food and asking you about yourself, joking and teasing you throughout the meal.

It didn’t take very long before he had charmed you into going steady, and you quickly noticed Matsukawa was a lot busier than you expected, often working very late into the night, making it hard for you to plan dates.

You weren’t exactly sure what he did exactly at the funeral home and in the couple of months you had been dating, it hadn’t crossed your mind to clarify.

Until tonight.

Matsu, it’s almost 11pm? What burials happen this late?

You bit your lip as you sent the text, wondering if your text sounded too accusatory or too needy, but you hadn’t seen him in a week and the fact of the matter was that you were particularly horny this night, for whatever reason... Maybe it was because things had gotten a little bit too hectic at work or maybe because the days were getting shorter while the nights were getting colder, but all you could think of was how warm your insides would feel stretched out by your boyfriend’s monstrosity of a cock. You could feel yourself just drooling thinking about it, and you hugged your legs as you curled up on the couch waiting for his response. You would give him an hour, and then maybe you’d have to resort to Ol’ Reliables, your Rabbit and a vivid imagination.

He replied within 15 minutes.

I’m embalming, babe. I’ve got one last body to take care of.

Oh, that explained it.

A chill ran through your spine as you conjured up the image of your large boyfriend standing alone in a room filled with the not-so-recently departed, and then you started to think of how much you missed your boyfriend and maybe your wires crossed inappropriately, but a morbid curiosity overtook you and you texted back immediately.

Can I come see?

---

You weren’t exactly sure what you’d expected. Maybe for him to say no but promise you that he’d come over right after?

Instead he gave you the address to his workplace, and you could almost see him shrugging his shoulders through the text message. He’d told you to be careful, and to make sure that you texted him the moment you arrived so he could come get you, but other than that he had no qualms about you seeing him work intimately with dead bodies.

So here you were, watching carefully, covering your eyes ever so slightly as he worked carefully on a corpse he was preparing, humming softly as you peered over his shoulder.

You winced as needles pierced long-expired flesh, sewing the lower jaw together and small lacerations of flesh, but your body relaxed into a strange comfort as you watched him carefully orient the dead person’s mouth into an almost smiling, peaceful expression and massage the person’s limbs into a pliable state. By the time Matsukawa was done shaving, hairstyling and dressing the body, it looked like the old man was merely resting, and you could almost believe it if not for the heavy stench of formaldehyde permeating the air through your face masks.

He turned to you on his stool, hands folded in his lap to prevent himself from touching you, and smirked as though he were waiting for you to compliment him on his work.

You don’t know what suddenly came over you, but your heart swelled and your lips crashed onto his.

Startled but ready to catch you, Matsukawa snapped off his gloves and pulled you onto his lap in a straddling position, now kissing you with just as much fervor, his tongue invading your mouth much unlike the deference he had to the dead. His hands hesitantly cupped your face, not wanting to spoil your pretty skin with any traces of embalming chemicals, but you were oh so beautiful and of course he had to touch your beautiful face. He pulled back just for a moment to admire you once more, an ever so slight smirk on his face.

“Are we going to do this here?”

Your breath was heavy and your eyes still focused on his, and just the way you looked at him like a cute little animal in heat had him instantly hard, not unlike the stiffness he had just spent so much time softening just moments earlier.

You nodded, a “yes, please,” airily slipping your throat, and he took your chin in his hands and engulfed you in a kiss once more.

Fluidly, you pulled both of your shirts off, and for a brief moment Matsukawa considered the indecency of shoving his cock inside of you right next to recently departed, but how could he deny you when you whined his name like this?

“M-matsu…”

“No need to be hasty, little one,” he softly replied, raising you off of him just enough that you could pull down his pants and unleash him - you had some teamwork between you already - before setting you back down.

But first-

“L-let me suck,” you murmured, quickly hesitating when you remembered exactly how big he was, and before he could stop you and tell you the floor was dirty, you were on your knees, your lips were wrapped around the head of his cock and he was enraptured with the way you worked up and down his shaft, saliva lubricating every inch of skin. And yes, now he was groaning with his eyes closed, fingers tangled in your locks as he accepted this sloppy blowjob right next to a prepared body.

The old man would probably commend him.

His fingers again played with your hair as he reveled in the sound of you taking him in so completely, you were so good to him, how blessed he was to have someone love him so dearly.

You remained like this for minutes and soon, Matsukawa pulled you up to your feet again, deciding that he would take care of you too, pulling your panties off for you to get bare and ready for him.

“You’re gonna take my cock, aren’t you, pretty baby?” He whispered directly into your ear, strong fingers gripping your sides. “All of it?”

“Y-yes…”

“Every inch?”

“Every inch,” you promised, and he smiled again, slipping a finger, then two inside you, getting you nice and wet and prepared for him to enter you.

“M-matsu-”

“You’re so tight and wet, how are you gonna fit me in, little baby?” He whispered, tut-tutting. “Mm, how?”

His fingers pumped in and out faster, making you shudder and lean into him, losing your ability to stand.

“Isn’t she so silly, ojisan?”

Was he really talking to the dead body?

But his fingers worked faster and faster and you could feel your breaths get more labored as you struggled to stay steady on your feet.

“P-please let me…”

“You wanna take me now?” Matsukawa whispered, fingers now curling to find that spot that made your insides quiver. When you let out a cry, he shushed you.

“Shhh… this is a place of rest. Come sit on me, darling.”

He positioned you onto him now and as he entered you, the sear you felt with the stretch was incredible despite being soaking wet, but he muffled your i can’ts, and it’s too much, with his own mouth onto yours.

“See, you can do it anytime, anywhere,” he whispered, holding you tight as you shuddered and squirmed on his cock while adjusting, taking a moment to lick the warm tears now streaming down your face.

“M-move, please,” you prompted him, burying yourself in his broad chest. 

“Mm,” he grunted in acceptance before holding you onto your sides again to raise you slightly before slamming you back down, bouncing you up and down his shaft as he planted his feet firmly onto the ground to prevent you both from falling off the stool.

A delicate game it was to pleasure you so fully, putting on a show besides the resting old man where you cried and he grunted and you moaned and you both agreed that this wasn’t enough and now you were standing, legs wrapped around his midsection and rolling your hips as he rutted into you.

“So dirty, you couldn’t even wait,” he teased. “No respect for the dead.”

“B-but I don’t work here, Matsu-kun, you do,” you quipped between bounces, earning a firmer, almost painful grip on your buttcheeks. He smirked.

“Say more and I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll need my services.”

[blackroseraven]

muck day messy day

I guess I don’t need to put Read Mores anymore since Tumblr does that weird post-shrink thing now huh.

So only Teenager Girl was here in the morning, and her brother, who will hay the horses but that’s all. I did grain, then started with putting the horses out: Teengirl put out a few horses but then went about feeding them.

So. I forgot to ask if the pasture gates should be open, since. They were all open. So I just started putting horses out. And then Teengirl was like, after I had two pastures out: “Oops, those are supposed to be closed.”

Goddammit.

So she started closing gates while I went and got Buff and Ves. Buff repeatedly tried to stampede me but I eventually got him. His own need to eat the halter worked against him because it got stuck on his teeth when he tried to pull away so I was able to drag him out of the pasture, then get Ves and bring him in as well.

Where they both just chewed on me and then calmly went to eat hay.

horses.

By the time I got them in, Teengirl was chasing Fancy and Sonya around the field. I went to help because Fancy was just avoiding Teengirl and helped chase her in. She bucked and cantered angrily and bit Sonya in the ass the entire way back into the pen and nearly chased her into the gate. 

horses. horrible.

But after that it was relatively smooth. We put horses. Wherever they would fit, basically. I think all the big pastures were changed up. Everything was kind of a mess today.

I brought Dakota with me when I brought Essie out and she just sort of wandered off. But a small child who was helping put out hay stopped her, and I just guided her down to her gate, where she went inside.

Poor old lady misses her friend.

We mucked. Mucking went quickly, and I ended up helping on partner’s side too. Once that was done I got Jaeger and cleaned his hooves - he was still inside because Hale was used for a lesson - and then brought him and his brother up to a pasture. 

Partner brought in the usual gang, and I cleaned up Quattro and Q, then put Q in their paddock for now and took Quattro up to the arena. We did lots of running today. We had a really loose day and just. Ran a lot. It was nice, honestly, to just. Run a lot, and not really think.

But it also meant I had to rinse Quattro down. He seemed to appreciate it, though, since I didn’t have to tie him up or anything and he just stood under the water. As always seemed to really like the squeegie part.

So then I stopped to try and record some horses being idiots in the distance. And after about ten seconds Quattro leans in behind me and firmly headbutts my back, in a very “let’s go” kind of way. So I ended up giving in and just walking inside with him.

He’s such a pushy, weird horse. I had to chase him out of stalls repeatedly because he was being a food thief, too.

But uh. So we fed all of them their food, and while they were eating, partner clipped Zara’s mane. She. Absolutely hates the shaver. Gets really anxious at the sound of it and freaks out a little about it touching her. So I had to hold her while partner shaved her mane down.

She kept eating though. Big terrified eyes while her jaws furiously munch up the grain in her feedbag. Troublehorse.

Once that was done they got to go out to the trail again, though, and they were happy about that, even though Q almost murdered me because he thought the halter was attacking him when it got briefly stuck in his flymask, and he like. Flung his head and jumped and freaked out, then immediately stopped when he realized what it was. Almost threw me into the fence, though.

It was a good day, though. Full, busy, and not exactly. Without problems, but hey. Didn’t die, and all the horses seemed happy. And at the end of the day that’s what it’s all about.

[namjoonchronicles]

late | th

↳ genre fluff, established relationship, dad Taehyung

↳ words 4k

↳ summary a trip back to hometown for a friend turned into something memorable which embarked something deep in Taehyung’s heart. 

↳ notes i discussed the premise of this story with my good friend @hellotherehoneybee​ and based on her ideas, i prolonged the length and added some plots to push a heavy turn so appropriately, the summary here is thanks to her. 

↳ warning mentions of childbirth, vivid descriptions of the scene, major character death

↳ song taylor swift ‘gold rush’, imagine dragons ‘levitate’, taio cruz ‘telling the world’, taylor swift ‘ you’re in love’

.

.

.

“Taehyung… tea?”

Sand cuffed the shore. Half painted coast on the canvas. The wind blew rather harshly and every strike of wind, Taehyung’s wild mane of hair ruffled against themselves. They were long enough to cover his eyes but it didn’t stop him from painting the colours on his canvas. He blinks at the view of the sea and how it doesn’t change despite the years passed by. He wore slippers with an open toe, a baggy shirt and baggy trousers. His eyes looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Sunken cheeks and empty eyes, his jaw was immaculate and his face was crafted by God. He is beautiful in this light. So beautiful. 

“What are you drawing so seriously?” you asked. But no answers from him. As it should.

Six, maybe ten years back, this caravan was parked here. Pair of hands raised to the ceiling. The sunlight sieved through the blinds. The pair laced themselves, and toyed around. The make out of the knuckles under this light, showed how veiny his hands were than yours. Small chuckles and soft whispers accommodate the serene and tranquil moment. The caravan was parked by the sea. His easel leaned against the kitchen counter next to the sink. His whole body covered yours as you snuggled in bed. You thumbed his supple cheeks and traced the shape of his lips as he lay half-awake. You ran your index finger down the slope of his pretty nose and counted his eyelashes, you lined the edges of his brows and ran your hand through the locks of his brown hair that looked lighter in the sun. He moans sweetly at your touch. 

You proceed to trace your fingers down the helix of his ears, his excellent jaw lines and chin. There's prickling hair ends at the chin and you thought that he might need a shave. You remembered how bad he was at shaving. You even suggested that he should stop shaving all the way. The smile he had on when you said it was priceless. Then he remembered that society wouldn’t have allowed him to live. Taehyung’s eyes half-opened at the stimulating touch. He breaks a smile in his sleepy state and he crunches his nose at the view of you. You swore, you had never seen anyone that beautiful. He nuzzles into your face and neck, planting kisses where he can and he spoke, in his drowsiness, “I’m so sleepy.”

He gets on top of you and buries his face in your neck. Through lighthearted giggles, you say, “You’re heavy, big bear…” While making no effort to push him away. He feels like a weighted blanket you always wanted when you’re younger. Warm and snuggly. Gentle and tender. He smells like a pillow and his hair is soft. He loves it when your fingers thread through his hair, just caressing the glorious length, he’ll make sounds that are so lovely. You brushed your lips on top of his head and one arm around him. They never meet the total length of his shoulders because they were too broad. So you end up scratching the fabric of his thin shirt. Had the weather been warm enough, he would have rather slept in his skins. You whispered softly, as you felt him drifting back to sleep in his new found comfort, “If you don’t get up now, we are going to be very late…” 

And we won’t be able to help around like we planned.

Jeju’s beaches are breathtakingly beautiful. Especially in Handam. Where the waters are brilliant blue and the skies azure. The black rocks, rubbles, kissing the shore. It would make a fine painting, this scenery. Taehyung poked his head out the caravan door at you, 

“I thought you said we’re late?” 

You glanced over your shoulder and gave him a sheepish smile. Jogging lightly back into the caravan, you pinched his sides as you walked in. 

In fact, you weren’t late. You were not late at all. Taehyung’s eyes had always been inviting. Beautiful brown irises so encapsulating they almost felt unreal. It was those eyes that your friends recognised. They quickly adopted him once he carried in all the groceries like he is one of them. The crowd roars as they see you because they know it will shrink you. You were never good at crowds, so you covered your ears and physically shrunk while laughing till your eyes turned to crescents on their own. Quickly, the host came to the rescue, gathering you in her arms and calling off those people that are bothering you. At once, Taehyung had disappeared to make new friends and greet the old ones. 

“A baby shower, this late?” you stared at your friend, Junhee quizzically. She pursed her lips and stared off to the corner of the room while tucking your arm in hers.

“I wanted an excuse to see my good friend,” she said with a cunning grin, then she cowers, falls silent in a sudden, her palm rubbing over her swollen belly. Nine months in, any day now. You knew in your heart that it was a bad idea, but still, her husband, Jimin, felt like it was okay to hold these gatherings for her. Jimin would do anything to make her happy. Then, she hisses. And you start to cower over her, pulling the chair closer for her to sit. 

“Is it the contraction? Has any contraction happened today?” 

“No, this is the first…” 

Junhee seemed to have calmed down after she rested. You still wanted to talk to Jimin if you had the time, asking why he’d think it was a good idea to hold the party anyways. You had your answer when he walked in, snapping the fridge door open for a cold drink refill.

“She looked so miserable these past few days, I just wanted to see her smile,” Jimin carried two bottles of fruit punch as he brushed shoulders with you. Then, a toddler came crawling in, on all fours, stopping just by your feet and falling onto her bum and sat. Her twinkling eyes ushers you to carry her up. 

“Where did you come from, little one?” You cooed. She curls up to your neck, and starts babbling. Then you suddenly felt her little hand roaming around your clothed boobs, and when she felt she found the tip, she began suckling. And you laughed out loud. Loud enough to have everyone's attention on you, including Taehyung’s. The baby’s mother rushed to you in her loose ponytail, handling another two slightly older children that were at her feet. One is tugging at her blouse and the other wailing so loud, you became concerned. You helped her into a nursing room, Jimin’s wife had prepared. It was a short tattling walk away from where you were. The baby was hungry. She’s four months old and today was her first day out since she was born and was brought home. You were glad that the number of guests didn’t scare one bit. 

Taehyung had distributed the barbecued sausages to the kids around. He had the sharp sticks taken out and was helping to blow the heat from the sausages from one of the kids. He looks pretty much at home with everything. It’s probably been awhile because he finally saw you out the room carrying the baby, her little stodgy fingers curled around your thumb and she is gurgling. What a beautiful sight it was. It seemed you might have heard his thoughts when you looked up to the side and had the baby waved to Taehyung. He chuckles through his nose and crinkles his eyes at the little one, making a funny face. The little toddler extended her short petite arms and grabbed air repeatedly at Taehyung’s presence. Then you motioned her closer to Taehyung.

“I think she wants you to carry her…” 

“Me?” He sounded unsure, uncertain, but, he brushed invisible dust off his palm on his butt and, “It’s been awhile but. Okay.” Arms open, collecting the toddler in.

The pinkish hue of her skin, her soft supple cheek, her little angel hairband, and twinkling, gleaming smile. Taehyung memorised her scent like a wolf would to a pup, with his eyes shut, his nose nudging on her softness. His arms held her gently but firmly. It felt like there was only him and the baby, he shut every other sound. When he held that baby, there’s stillness in the air, the noises ceased to exist, the visions clouded and the heaven’s hinted; it was his calling. It felt very much like sinking and flying at the same time. It was as if the world stood still, the time stopped and the anticipation grew. A lifetime in a second. Gold rush, a dam broke and first rain in the desert. Taehyung eyes fluttered open to the view of the baby’s rosy cheeks and immediately searched for you. Any semblance of you. 

But you were kneeling by Jimin’s wife laying body on the floor. 

Taehyung padding over the wooden balcony into the living room. In daze, Taehyung passed the baby over to her mother and closed into you. Your mouth was moving but for some reason, his brain couldn’t string the words. You were screaming but he heard nothing until seconds after.

“Call 911!” You ordered. There was a puddle of water where she once stood. 

Meanwhile, you’re massaging her tummy. Jimin’s at the other end, and people pooling in to watch. The men are asked to wait outside with the kids for the ambulance. Taehyung had his hand on the house phone, and as he tried to arrange his words, his attention flew to you and your alarmed eyes. Your lips read, 

“Speak slowly… clearly.”

The dial tone ended and, “We need. Ambulance. Birth. A woman is giving birth, please send in an ambulance.” He turns to you again and right now, you have all the ladies lined up. 

“Okay, listen. Towels, all of it, blankets, pillows, sterile gloves, plastic bags, and Jimin,” you listed. Everyone spreads around to get everything. Towels from upstairs, blankets from the laundry room, pillows from the guest room and plastic bags from the kitchen drawers. Even Jimin who was outside waiting for the ambulance is being carried in by Jungkook. Taehyung handed a plastic cup of water. Jimin has his wife’s head cradled in his lap, padded with pillows and she’s holding her hand.

“I told you this was a good idea…” she joked, “I only trust her around…”

“I have only delivered a baby once in my life and that was in nursing school, that does not mean this was a correct choice, Junhee…” you half scolded her.

“I wouldn’t have it in any other way,” she said with a big smile before she hisses in pain and clenching around Jimin’s fingers. Then she groaned till veins were popping on her forehead. Jimin kept on peppering kisses and wiping her sweat with warm water. She continues to wretch and shiver. She felt cramps in her abdomens, churning. So she retched. What a relief she had her husband on the side. Jimin’s whispering words of affirmations and it really helped her calm down. Although she is really not far from giving birth. She is 9 centimetres dilated. 

“Where is the ambulance?” You asked in a rushed tone. 

“Any minute now!” Someone at the door informed. 

That’s not good enough. She will be 10 centimetres in no time and if the ambulance isn’t here by then, the baby will drown. She is perfectly ready for vaginal delivery, you grab a towel, place it underneath her openings and tell her to push until she feels the contraction. Work with the contraction and push as hard as she could. You also massaged to make sure the baby’s head was out first. From the physical examinations, the baby’s head is visible. All that’s left to do is for Junhee to push. You thought her the breathing method, and counted with her. Even Jimin’s following suit. 

“Deep breaths, sweetheart. You can do this…” you reminded her, “And then we’re gonna go again, okay?”

“I think I’m going to vomit…” Jimin fetches the bag from the side and vomits. Taehyung gulped, watching the fiasco from the side. He watches his wife carefully guiding, and assuring and giving space towards the mother to feel as comfortable as she can. 

Junhee was obedient and she was cooperating. She was entirely under your care. You can see from her eyes that she trusted you with her life. She had been, ever since you knew her. And now, she entrusted you with her life and her baby’s life. Junhee delivers a big push and this time the baby slides out into your arm along with it’s placenta. The detachment is healthy, and you quickly glance to the time, on the grandpa’s clock on the corner, 

“Someone note the time!”

“3:47PM!”

You placed the baby on his mother’s arm, a healthy baby boy. Another warm towel on his tiny body and his mom’s tired laugh. He is red and warm and crying, lungs are not congested. But still you need to wait for the ambulance. You placed the placenta into the bag Taehyung opened and told Jimin to hold them up. You refused to cut the umbilical cord without proper tools. It’s not sterile here to do so and there’s no medical back-up should anything go wrong. You told everyone to stay put until the ambulance arrived. Taehyung caught your eyes from across the room and slowly, you drew a smile on your face, contradicting his worried one. And again, in this lifetime, even when he was most concerned about you, you told him with your eyes that you’re okay. Even at this distance. 

“Who delivered the baby?” the ambulance personnel yelled, his voice seeped in, through the windows to you, while you were cleaning up the living room. 

Taehyung rushed to the door with a panicked look on his face and you sprinted out.

They gave you the scissors.

“The ma’am wanted you to cut the umbilical cord instead of the father, will you do the honors?” The man in medical assistant uniform smiled at you. You took the scissors in your hand and you glanced up at her, tears welling up in your eyes and you cried, “Yes, of course, yes…”

“She’s a retired nurse, I never once worried about my life when she’s around,” Park Junhee boasted as she was carried into the ambulance. Jimin climbed in, too. You followed the ambulance close while Taehyung drove Jimin’s car. It’s to help them later, if Jimin needs to return home. Taehyung left the car parked in the hospital parking area and climbed into your shared caravan. He offered to drive. And as he was driving, and talking about how cool you were as the night fell, he heard nothing from your side. You had already fallen asleep. Defeated by the tiredness. He stops at the same spot this morning and lowered your chair. He fetches a blanket from the bed and tucked you in warm. You moaned and switched to your side. He leans over you and plants a firm kiss on your head. As you swam deeper in your slumber, the stars twinkling in the sapphire blue sky, the moon stood witness to the feeling Taehyung had over you. He lowered his own chair to watch you sleep with a smile and fondness in his eyes. 

His soft curls fall over the hood of his eyes, touching the bridge of his nose as he clamors in renewed emotions he felt for you. Such pure love, the kind that authors would write about in novels, many years ago. He is so in love, his feet are levitating from the ground it seemed. One of those wishes thrown at the shooting skies had come true. Broken pieces of him, finally held together, and the last piece was in a form of a person. He extended his arm to reach yours, and you took them in like a soft toy. He gladly cuffed himself to you, it's been his fate. Lips, body and soul, is yours. The bell resonated from the far back of his mind, of when soulmates found each other. His heart thumping so loudly he feared you might have heard them. You have stirred something inside him he doesn’t quite understand yet. Rain or snow, storms or deserts, it's your hand he wanted to hold. He wants to create a home so comfy for you and maybe, in between you two, a baby that’s both his and yours. Someone to carry his name. Symphonies of violin when he watches you sleep. Like an orchestra coming together. 

Walking down the street in the morning, you wore beige knitted cardigan, hands intertwined. He swings your hand with a big toothy grin on his face. His soft curls flying in the wind, his deep chuckle sparking your insides with excitement. You wanted to choose a gift for Jimin and Junhee’s baby boy who is now at the hospital. With this man’s hand who made your heart ascend in the small of your back, it felt like you could do anything. An older woman who was also a customer in the small shop gave you both a big smile. 

“Newly weds?” She asked.

“Why? Do we seem like so?” You asked her warmly.

“We've been married for almost 2 years now…” Taehyung corrected her.

The older woman chuckled, and then her smile faltered, crestfallen on a vision it seemed, “Such soulmates are rare… You looked so good together, such a beautiful couple…” Taehyung wanted to buy a small necklace for the older women. He grabbed one that caught his eyes and dashed out the shop’s door, but the old woman had disappeared. 

“She walked really fast for someone her age…” Taehyung spoke to himself, squinting hard at the distance in both directions. To see if there’s any semblance of the friendly old woman anywhere. It’s like she vanished. When he returned to the shop, you asked him to buy you a glass ball with a bear reading and confettis inside. It was nothing special for Taehyung but you wanted it so he bought them without much thought. In the caravan, it was placed on the dashboard with a double tape, securely glued. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we have our own little one?” Taehyung stared at his friend Jimin, cooing his little baby.

“Could we?” Your smile faded as you bore into the view of the glass. You turned to him with a broken smile, “At my age?”

“You’re not as old as you think you are…” Taehyung said. And did he prove them well. Nine months later, you were holding his arm as you walked out of the apartment door with Jimin’s wife on the phone, telling you that she had arrived. Unlike her, you wanted to be at the hospital when the water broke. The same beige cardigan you wore on her child’s birthday,you wore today. It’s already old and strings were coming out at the ends but you insisted. Taehyung carried you bridal style into the car, towels ready. His arms were yours to clench on and while you were groaning, he was biting his lips at the same force. You clawed into his flesh as he calmed you down. Jimin was driving and his wife was teaching you the same breathing method you taught her. You plastered your face into Taehyung’s neck. Hair stuck into your forehead as you sweat profusely, fighting through the incessant pain. 

“Please hurry Jimin, please hurry…” Taehyung begged.

“I have the hazard lights on, we will make it on time, don’t worry bud…” Jimin said in a rushed tone. 

In the delivery room, Taehyung was dressed in all blue, masks and gloves, just like the doctors and nurses. There’s only his eyes, but you recognise them so well. One look, in that delivery room, meant only for you. Light hearted jokes and hand held tight. He pressed his lips on your whitened knuckles the whole time. His tears fell like diamonds as he watches you push with all your strength, a baby that is his. No words exchanged, but you saw enough. He was in love, so direly in love. Memories flash in the back of your mind, under clenched eyes, kisses on the sidewalks, love declarations under the heavy rain. The way he lifts you to the sky in that storm, slowly sliding you down his body, enough for you to place your forehead on his. His wide gaping smile, drenched in the night under the lamp post, warm wafts of breaths escaped his lips. You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him hard. You couldn’t hear what the midwives are saying, but you know one thing, this is the ultimate gift you could give the man that has given you everything. 

One last push, and a shrilling tiny cry accompanied. Taehyung looked at you and linked his forehead on yours. You’ve gone pale. So pale. Your lips were blue and your eyes were drooping. You are coming in and out of consciousness. The doctors had to lead Taehyung out of the delivery room, they had to perform operations. You were too tired to continue pushing. But before he leaves, you brushed your lips on his left cheek, and you tell him in your last bits of strength, 

“I-I love you. So-so much...Thank you…” 

Taehyung’s hand was separated from yours. He was grabbing air just as yours were holding out. 

.

.

.

.

Today. 

“Taehyung, tea?” His mother greeted him. He and his easel in use. He shook his head. And from inside the caravan. Small pair of hands curled on the handles, to push the door open. Carrying a beige cardigan. Four feets putting on shoes and padded to their father. With brown irises twinkling at Taehyung’s back, no older than four years old, Taehyung glanced over his shoulder and spread his arms. One in each arm. 

You watched them from the caravan, and it felt like you were right there. You could almost touch him, his hair, the slope of his nose. The babies. The babies are all grown. You could almost smell the sea. The breeze you knew so well. But you can’t. 

Six years ago.

Taehyung returned home with the babies. Dressed in all black, he has to head back out again, to send his wife. When he returned, he saw the babies sleeping on their side, covered by the beige cardigan. He rushes outside to where the caravan’s were. His mother caught him just in time as he fell to the ground, shivering and calling out your name repeatedly. His mother cradles him in her lap.

“Release, my child. Release your agony…” Taehyung’s mother cradled her baby boy in her arms and Taehyung let out a cry, heart-thumping, guttural screaming cry as he let out the grief he had kept in the silent since he saw your casket lowered, six-feet underground, a baby in his arms, sleeping, coddled in her late mother’s knitted cardigan she wore when she was at the hospital, trying to have her. Taehyung looked up at the sky that strangely bright day, and a single drop of rain fell to the left side of his cheek where his wife had kissed before she went away. 

God is neither late nor early. 

God took one of His angels back home to Him. Left two behind in Taehyung’s care.

.

.

.

.

Copyright © January 9th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, leave feedback :’) please

[theneverfinishedstory]

6. Six-Shooter

(Whoops I am several days behind in yeehugust )

Mirage collapsed in a heap. Gasping in for air, she tried to keep from dry-heaving or worse, actually throwing up the corn mush she ate for breakfast. Breakfast that was only maybe three hours ago when the sun hadn’t even gotten up. Shakily holding herself up on her elbows, she heard the patient footsteps of one of her mentors behind her. Her leg shot out just as the person came close. 

“Gods damn it,” Ransom swore. He barely caught himself from falling into the dirt next to her. Mirage rolled her head back to look at him, grinning.

Even though the sun was barely peeking over the horizon, Ransom wore his beaten cowboy hat. His white hair was shaved close on the sides with the longer unruly pieces stuck out under the hat across his forehead. Even with the shade from the brim, Mirage saw white eyes looking down at her. Like other members in their branch of the Shifting Sands caravan, he wore a marigold colored bandana around his neck. On it was the broken hourglass symbol. Tiny grains of sand spilled from the shatter and pooled around the glass. Ransom’s shirt underneath was buttoned up to the top, his sleeves were unrolled and firmly buttoned at the wrist, and his pants went down to the heels of his boots. Being a drow in the desert sun was a life of avoiding it. Mirage hadn’t heard him complain about it yet though. 

“I came down here to tell you your form is all wrong. You aren’t nearly as quiet as you think you are and I think I could outrun you even if you had a head start,” Ransom said, his drawl quiet in the early morning. 

Mirage dropped to the ground and rolled on her back. She scrunched her nose up, angry at the dark blue early morning clouds for no particular reason. 

 “Well, whaddya expect? I had to do a buncha push ups and then a buncha pullups and then run down that stupid hill and jump around on boulders” she huffed. “And I know I’m doing better than last week. I heard you almost say it yesterday!”

“When?”

“When you thought I was asleep and you were talkin’ to Arabella.”

Ransom made a noise of disapproval. He offered a hand to her anyway. Mirage counted to three before grabbing it and pushing off the ground. Even though the ends of her hair tended to drift up and away like smoke, sweat on the other hand, glistened on her forehead. She used the back of her arm to wipe some off. 

She smirked, “So that makes me think I’m doing better then you’re tellin’ me. You’re just mad I tripped ya.”

Ransom walked off, Mirage trailing behind him. The last week or so had been a blur for Mirage. She hadn’t been the only person the Caravan chose to train. A few others had been picked up across the desert and each Caravan branch leader got one to train. Mirage had been chosen by Arabella McClain, an impressive tiefling woman. Ransom Jericho was her second and in charge of running Mirage ragged. Every day there were countless exercises building stamina, strength, and flexibility. While Mirage had never been very out of shape she had never been this in shape either. She was seeing changes to her body and even felt like there were a few in her mind too. Everything seemed a bit sharper and her reflexes felt more natural then they ever. What she really wanted was the thing Arabella and Ransom kept calling ki. With that, the possibilities were endless. 

Skipping behind Ransom, Mirage leaned a little closer, asking, “Since I’m gettin’ better, are ya gonna show me the cool gun trick?”

Ransom snorted. “What cool gun trick? We don’t use guns, Mirage. Rule number seven.”

“C’mon, Ace was telling me all about it. The six-shooter test!” Mirage said. 

Ransom stopped in his tracks. He turned his head towards Mirage. “He did, did he?” 

“Yep.”

“Did he tell you what that was?”

“No,” Mirage said. Seeing the hard stare Ransom was giving, she took half a step back. “But he said you think I might be ready.”

“Did he?”

Mirage felt unease burn inside of her. Before she responded, Ransom started off in the direction of camp. Mirage had to run to keep to pace. At the camp, breakfast for the full fledged members had just started. Most of them had a tin plate with some reheated corn mush on it. A human man had a spoonful halfway to his mouth when Ransom hoisted the man out of his seat. The corn mush plate fell in the dust. 

“Ransom, what in the Nine Hells-” he started. 

Ignoring the outburst, Ransom called over his shoulder, “Arabella, I’m gonna need that gun.”

Scrapes of spoons on tin stopped. Grumbled conversations halted. Arabella, holding a cup of hot coffee in her hands, raised an eyebrow. 

“Why?”

“Six-shooter test.”

Arabella lowered her coffee mug. “Oh?”

“And Ace here is gonna lead it.”

“I am?” he repeated. 

Ransom let go of Ace’s shirt and went over to Arabella. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a bundle of rags. Inside the bundle, was a small silver key. Ransom took it and went over to Arabella’s pack. After taking a few bundles, he got to a small case. The key went in easily like it was a lock that wasn’t used very often. Inside was a simple six-shooter gun. He loaded it as he stood back up. Looking at Ace, Ransom motioned with it to an open space between clusters of sage bushes. 

“Mirage, you too.” Ransom ordered. 

At that, Arabella stood, yet she made no move to stop her second. Ace looked at her, eyes shining with hope. When Ace didn’t move, she said, “You heard him.”

The uneasy feeling in Mirage’s stomach was growing to be the size of a boulder. Her mouth always got her in trouble. Typically, she could get out of it. But this seemed like she was stuck in a dust devil with no way out. She walked over to the empty space, Ace, Ransom, and Arabella following. The other members remained seated but their eyes were glued to the scene unfolding. 

“Mirage, go on down there. Maybe about thirty paces or so,” Ransom said. 

She did as he commanded, but didn’t turn her back, instead walking backwards, too scared to take her eyes off of him.

 “Ace, since you said I thought Mirage was ready for the six-shooter, I guess I’ll have to agree with you,” Ransom said

He clicked the safety off and handed the gun over to Ace, who had only gotten paler with each second. 

“Since you’ve been training with her day after day after all,” Ransom said as Ace took the gun.

 “Now Mirage,” Ransom called over “What you have to do is dodge and deflect the six bullets Ace’s gonna shoot at you. Now this is pretty close range so you’ll have to be quick on your feet. And, of course, if you mess up, a real bullet’s gonna be in your chest. Keep that in mind.”

He clapped Ace on the shoulder. “Ready when you are, Ace.”

Mirage tensed and fought to control her heart rate. The way Ace had talked last night, he made it sound like it was a gun trick, not a gun test. This was not something she felt remotely ready for. Barely evening her breath out, Mirage widened her stance and raised her fists, trying to focus on the gun in Ace’s hand. But the seconds dragged on. Ace raised then dropped the gun a few times before fully aiming it at Mirage. Now the seconds turned into a full minute. Nothing happened. The gun remained pointed at Mirage, Ace’s finger twitching at the trigger. Arabella, her lips pursed the entire time, put her hand on Ransom’s shoulder. With that, Ransom grabbed the gun away from Ace and in a quick follow-up, punched him straight on the jaw. Ace stumbled to the side, almost falling over. 

Grabbing at his jaw, Ace choked out, “Ransom, it was a joke is all! Stupid joke! I just wanted to ruffle her feathers a bit!”

“Don’t you dare lie to someone using my name,” Ransom growled.

“ ‘M sorry, Ransom. Won’t happen again.” Ace said. He rubbed his jaw more as he straightened up. “Just thought-”

“That pretending I thought she was ready for something and fillin’ her head with big ideas would be funny? Or have you forgotten that this training is the most important thing we got going for us out here. And if we don’t train our recruits right they end up dead? Or have you forgotten that?” Ransom looked like he was ready to swing again.

Arabella whistled a short high pitch whistle. “Alright Jericho. Bring it in.”

Ransom clenched his fist but eventually stepped back next to Arabella. Arabella took the gun from him and started to unload it. Each bullet made a clink in her pocket. 

“Ace, take a walk to the stream and dunk your head in. Maybe the chill will clear your head of any more stupidity with our recruit,” Arabella said. “Ransom, go in the opposite direction and beat something up. Neither of you come back till you’re sane again.”

Ace nodded, turning on his heel and headed for the stream half a mile away. Ransom said something in hushed Undercommon before walking back towards the camp. He didn’t stop there, instead he walked past back towards the training grounds. Mirage stood at the other end of the impromptu shooting range slowly lowering her fists. 

Arabella walked over to her. Once close enough, she asked, “You okay, Eolian?”

“ ‘Bout shit my pants, but now that’s done with,” Mirage let out. She looked towards Ransom’s retreating back. “Did I mess up? I didn’t know it was such a big deal, honest. I woulda never brought it up! I thought it was some sorta cool move or something!”

“You didn’t mess up. Ace’s stupid,” Arabella said. “Six-shooter is an old Caravan test that I’m not fond of and don’t really like using. Neither does Ransom. And Ace should know better than saying Ransom recommended it.”

“Did something happen?”

Arabella looked down. “I won’t give you the details. That’s Ransom’s story. But someone close to him didn’t make it through the six-shooter years ago. Since then, he’s pushed against its use. But Caravan hasn’t banned it yet, so it’s still in rotation.”

Mirage glanced at the empty pistol. “So I’ll have to do that?”

Arabella moved the gun out of sight. “Not until Ransom thinks you’re ready.”

“When will that be?” 

“Never, maybe.”

[weakzen]

Taking the Stares

The Detective uses the stairwell to her advantage for a kiss—or so she thinks.

pairing: female detective/mason rating: m wc: 2k+ prompt fill: 20. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

AO3 version

Mason pushes the door open with his hip and leans against it, holding it open for me.

Waiting for me to pass. Waiting for me to head up first.

Like he's done every single time since Unit Bravo first rolled into town.

Back then, he did it with scowls. Folded arms. Heavy gazes dead ahead. Barks at me to hurry up too, if I took longer than a second—and I frequently did, strolling with a sly smirk and deliberate slowness, just to piss him off. But regardless of our bouts of mutual antagonism and his overall assholish demeanor, he still slammed those stairwell doors open for me and waited, always letting me head up in front of him.

Today, I run my hand over his stomach as I pass, stroking a squiggle across the thin fabric of his shirt, enjoying the dip of his inhale, and the way his abs tense with anticipation, and then the broad smile I leave on his face when my fingers depart.

I head up the stairs without looking back. The door to the basement slams shut behind us and Mason's footsteps soon join mine, echoing loudly against the concrete and corroding pipes.

It took me a while to realize why he held those doors. An embarrassingly long while. I thought he was trying to unnerve me at first. Take advantage of the terrain and isolation. Get me to walk in front of him so he could follow behind, directly in my blind spot, unseen and unheard through the echoing cacophony, discernible only by that piercing gaze and the smirk that dug into my backside and the way he used both to make the tension between my shoulderblades wind just a little bit tighter with every subsequent step climbed on those long ascents.

That was definitely part of his motivation back then, fucking with me, but I was too focused on that aspect to pay attention to the more obvious and glaring explanation for his actions. Which, is either a testament to my ability to fixate on something to the exclusion of everything else, or a total condemnation of my single-minded obliviousness, because Mason is not exactly subtle.

Not with his words, when they come at all. Not with his actions, when he cares enough to try.

Not with those hard, roaming, and near tangible stares of his, either.

Truly, a master of visual undress and eye fucking across a room.

And of making sure he's always in position to blatantly ogle my ass while he does both.

A wide grin pulls at my lips and I whirl around suddenly before I crest the first landing, arms folded as I stand above him.

“You staring at my ass again, sunshine?”

My accusation echoes off the walls and, four steps down, he doesn't bother to pretend he wasn't. His eyes linger on my crotch for a moment, smirk slowly widening, before he flicks his gaze up to meet mine.

“Not anymore.”

He continues upward, footsteps echoing, that gaze locked unblinking on mine as he advances step by step until he stops on the one below me, eyes level with each other and our mouths only a heartbeat apart.

But he closes that distance quickly enough.

Mason's lips press against mine in lazy nibbles, slow kisses with gently scraping stubble and soft bumps of nose and even softer sighs of pleasure. His hands find their usual spot on my hips, thumbs hooked in my belt loops, long fingers curling over the curve of my ass, but not quite cupping. Not sliding down to grope or squeeze.

Maybe it's because my hands are busy cupping his face for once, now that I can easily reach.

His cheeks are warm beneath my touch, the edge of his jaw sharp in my palms, and sharper still at the back corners, where my fingers curl into him and find shifting purchase as his mouth moves against my own. I swipe my thumbs across his cheeks, through the scratch of hair and out over soft, smooth skin and the expanse of countless freckles I could easily see, if I were to open my eyes.

I do. Just to make sure they're still there.

And to enjoy the sight of them, dappled beneath those long, dark lashes.

At least, until his eyes snap open as well.

Our lips slow, coming to a still, then to a part, with a sticky kiss that echoes faintly around the stairwell too, but we don't move far. Our mouths continue to brush together, breath mingling, exhales fanning gently over swollen lips and flushed skin as we stare at each other. His eyes gleam with playfulness, grey depths warmed with amusement and want, softened with heavy lids and faint creases at the corners and…

…what I might call affection, from this vantage, now that I can easily see.

Heat floods my cheeks anew, and Mason pulls me forward by the hips and the loops until our chests bump together and then he's kissing me again. Deeper. More purposefully. Affectionately, too, in a way I can't deny.

In a way that makes my eyes squeeze shut as well, and forces a whimper from my throat, and fills my chest with so much swelling fondness that I just… ache.

I never thought all those steps we climbed back then were leading here, to this exact instant, to this particular spot, to us pressed together and swaying in a familiar embrace. And I don't want to know what else lies ahead of us, how many more embraces we have, if any, or where we might be climbing to next.

I just want to take the steps one at a time. Day by day. Hour by hour.

Moment by moment.

A callout for his staring. A kiss in a stairwell. A consideration for the advantages of terrain and isolation.

I smile against his lips.

And then an unanswered question.

I slide my hands from his cheeks, down his neck, to his shoulders, where I gently, but firmly, nudge him down a step. Mason raises a brow, but doesn't resist. Doesn't keep hold of me either, arms dropping to his sides as he falls back another step until I can see the top of his head, the part in that dark hair I mostly know by touch.

The rest of those wavy locks brush against my hands as I slide up his neck again, and press my thumbs under his jaw to tilt his head back even further. Again, he doesn't resist. Only licks his lips and swallows, eyes darkening as I lean over him.

I wonder if there's anything new he can see of me now, from his vantage, in this moment, the instant before I plunge down to capture his lips with mine.

He receives me eagerly, mouth parting quickly for my tongue and my pace. I guide the kiss and Mason follows, through deep slides together into sharp inhales, breathy turns into lip sucking and parting drags of teeth that make him growl low with pleasure, slower stretches too, softer swirls, where it's just the wet heat and the taste of us and my moans and the silent, urgent need vibrating in his throat beneath my touch.

At some point, his hands come up to skim my legs, fingertips ghosting along the backs of my thighs, but he doesn't quite take hold of me. Doesn't grab or squeeze suggestively.

Maybe it's because he's too busy enjoying my hold on him, the press of my palms against the tendons gliding and shifting in his neck, the feel of my fingers stroking over his soft skin and the prickle of recently shaved stubble, the way I find myself lingering on his pulse, circling it as it throbs hard beneath my thumbs, as he tilts his head back further to give me even better access to him.

As he bares his throat to me entirely, willingly, and without hesitation.

When I pull away to breathe, he continues to follow, rising up on his toes before our lips part with another sticky, echoing kiss. He stays there for the briefest moment afterward, at apex where we stare at each other—and where an unexpected thrill jolts electrically through my body at the sight of him like that, arched up for me, with such eagerness and raw desire. His eyes darken even more as he feels it too, into near blackness, and his hands finally tighten on my thighs, right before he drops back to his heels and glances away.

I bite my lip.

After a moment, I straighten up again, hands sliding to his shoulders once more. “Gotta say, sunshine,” my voice echoes husky and low, “I do like the view from up here.”

Mason scoffs and runs a hand through his hair, but the look in his eye remains.

“Don't get used to it, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” I tease my thumb across his lips, grinning. “You already spend most of your time beneath me.”

He snorts, cracking into a smile before he presses a wet kiss to my fingertip.

“Good point,” he replies, glancing up at me. Dark amusement glitters in his eyes now as he slides his hands to my hips again. “Can't say I don't enjoy the view from below too.”

I cup his cheeks and lean over to kiss him more, but right before we make contact, his grip tightens hard—

Mason smirks deeply.

—then he lifts me up suddenly instead.

“Shit!”

The word echoes sharply through the stairwell as my feet shoot off the ground. I wobble and grab at his forearms instinctively, heartbeat spiking wildly for a moment, but my surprise passes quickly. Then I'm just left hanging in his grasp, legs dangling free, abs tensed for balance, hips slightly above his eye level, and all with that self-satisfied fucking smirk of his blasting up at me.

I know I should probably be at least mildly annoyed from the dick swinging, the reminder that, although I may occasionally have him beat on height, he will always have me beat on strength, but…

Honestly, I'm just fucking impressed.

And a little jealous.

I always am, whenever I witness it. Fucking ridiculous vampires.

He just front raised over fifty fucking kilos like it was nothing—and he's still holding it up, perfectly motionless, at this awkward fucking angle, arms completely straight, with no trembling strain or drooping or sign of fatigue or anything other than just a goddamn beautiful and totally fucking effortlessness display of raw strength.

It took me nearly a decade to even hit fifteen in each hand, and I'm still struggling to push on to twenty.

Fuck, and the sheer mechanical load on his shoulders right now, I just—

I fold my arms and huff out a long breath that trails into a smirk.

“Well, I guess it's higher than I thought you could go.”

The words barely leave my mouth before Mason swings me up directly overhead.

I gasp and tip forward, chest plunging, legs rising, until I'm parallel with the ground, stiffened and balanced, arms extended, with my heart thundering, my ankles tightly crossed, and my mind filled with a whole new appreciation for just how fucking deep those gymnastics instincts were drilled into me as a kid. His hands lock me in place too, grip firm, thumbs digging into my hips to keep me from rotating any further.

At least, for a moment.

He grins up at me, fangs sharp and visible, then slowly starts to tilt my pelvis so my legs go higher.

My braid falls first, unfurling like the damn rope at gym class, and I'm disappointed it doesn't swing directly into his smug face. My necklace falls next, pendant smacking into my mouth and catching between my lips. My shirt tries to fall too, sliding in stutters down my back, but the front tuck holds valiantly.

Blood begins to pool and throb in my face, and my hands come down to rest on his shoulders as well. He keeps rotating me, to the point where our foreheads almost touch and our eyes lock together at a different angle and our mouths are still less than a heartbeat apart.

The grin twitching at my lips matches the widening spread of his—and we come to a simultaneous decision quickly enough.

He leans back slightly and my legs soar even higher to my whoop of joy, until I'm practically vertical.

Until he can stare directly up the neck of my shirt, too.

And from the look in his eye, I can tell he's undoing the clasp on my bra to make my breasts spill free, right before he lowers me to put his face between them. Mason rolls his lips together and groans a low noise of appreciation.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment, shifting me slightly for a better view, “you look great from down here.”

I scoff around the chain on my lips and try to give him a look, but the tomato face and the grin probably ruin it a little—

My shirt falls over my head with a soft plop.

—And so does that.

Mason's bark of laughter echoes loudly throughout the stairwell.

So does mine, slightly more muffled.

I start wobbling a little, and he quickly lowers me over his shoulder before I lose my balance. His arms curl snugly around the back of my thighs, but it isn't long before I feel him staring at my ass again. And it only takes a fraction of the time after that before one of his hands shoots up to start squeezing firm, eager handfuls of me, paired with long, appreciative strokes, and a targeted pat that makes me clench and moan softly.

He starts to climb again while he enjoys himself.

I enjoy his touch too, if not the view. Of white and grey stripes. Because he didn't bother to fix my shirt, of course. Or give me the chance to do it myself. My arms and braid sway back and forth as his footsteps echo, and I huff at the loose strands of hair tickling my face.

A pleasantly undignified half-defeat. A demonstration of shared strength and acrobatics. A question answered beyond the scope.

I smile against the necklace.

And a hand sliding fast up my back too, groping toward my bra clasp.

Fumbling, I reach over to smack his ass first. “I'll give you a wedgie,” I threaten through the shirt.

His hand retreats to my waistband, to my belt loops, where he yanks up suddenly while I squeal and kick out.

“I'll just give you more of one back,” he replies simply, shrugging beneath me.

I smack his ass again, harder.

Mason only chuckles and squeezes me tighter, nuzzling his cheek against me before pressing a lingering kiss to my thigh. Then he resumes his groping as he continues upward, carrying me with a sly smirk and deliberate slowness.

One step at a time.

[tchallasbabymama]

N’Jobu x T’Chaka Oneshot

Heyyyyy people. I decided to get back into writing (it’s been a while and a bitch is RUS-TEE) and what better way to do it than to write some BP fics? Can y’all tell I’m obsessed? I haven’t done this since my B5 forum days back in like ‘07, so we’ll see how this goes. For some reason I have a lot of anxiety around my writing, and really anything I do (thank the gods for therapy, mental illness is a bitch) so I was kinda scared to put this out there...but then I remembered this is basically anonymous and eventually got over it. 

Anyways, I cant figure out what I actually want to name this, but when I was watching the movie the other day I thought, “What would’ve happened if N’Jobu didn’t die?” It’s on the short side, but here is a snippet of my answer. I would like to expand on this at some point maybe. Tell me what y’all think, especially other writers.

929 Words

_______________________________________________________________________

Betrayed by the man he trusted, N’Jobu saw red as his eyes filled with tears and his voice shook when he tried to speak. He had let this man into his family, and the whole time he was a spy for the enemy. The enemy N’Jobu didn’t want to fight, but he needed to win. People everywhere needed him to win. Black people, his people, all around the world. His plan to liberate them all just came to a screeching halt, got hit by another car, then blew up. James was his confidant, his right-hand man, his “man in the chair.” He trusted James to be around his wife and his child, and the man blended in like family! He loved them like family, or so N’Jobu thought. It was all an act. He was undercover the whole time and N’Jobu was the mission: Get close, gather intel, send back, wait for further instructions. N’Jobu chastised himself for not catching his lies since he himself had done the same thing in his time as a War Dog. That’s just the job, but none of that mattered to N’Jobu at this moment. He wanted blood.

N’Jobu charged at James, the traitor. His name wasn’t even James, he was really “Zuri, Son of Badu”. Again, he wanted to be disgusted at the lie, but he was also living a lie as “Devon Stevens.” Nobody, not even the love of his life knew who he really was. He had to look her in her big brown doe eyes and lie to her year after year for the same reasons Zuri spied on him and his family. They both had missions to complete in Oakland and reported to the same man, the king of Wakanda. The king who stood firmly between N’Jobu and the rat named Zuri, but despite the royal’s heightened senses N’Jobu managed to pull his gun from his waistband and empty two shots into the traitor’s head.

The sound of the gunshots alerted the king’s guards, the Dora Milaje, outside the door, and they were by his side in mere seconds with their spears at N’Jobu’s throat. They were fierce women in red with shaved and tattooed heads who rarely spoke any other language than Xhosa, if at all. While the guards held N’Jobu still, the king took his time looking around the lived-in apartment. As he meandered through the living room area his gaze fell onto the map on the table and lingered for a few seconds before he continued his silent exploration. He turned and walked down the short hallway leading from the living area to the bedrooms. There were four doors and what looked to be a linen closet lining the hall. He opened the first door and took note of the messy desk on the left and the art supplies on the right side of the room. He continued walking and as he passed a partially open bathroom door he could hear N’Jobu trying and failing to break free from the Dora Milaje. He opened the third door and was faced with the confirmation that what he had been told was true. N’Jobu had defied direct orders and gotten too cozy with the “outsiders” he was supposed to be surveilling. The king took in the twin bed littered with comic books and the small shoes by the window and sighed. He closed the door and walked to the end of the hall, twisting the last doorknob. He entered with his head swivelling back and forth as usual, observing every little detail and cataloging it for later. Everything matched up with Zuri’s reports except for the map on the table. 

The king’s anger began to boil over as he rushed back down the hall. The guards barely had enough time to move out of his way when he grabbed N’Jobu and held him up by his collar, almost breaking when he saw the hatred in the eyes glaring back at him. He never thought it would come to this. The two of them used to be inseparable and now here they are literally at eachothers throats. 

“Speak, now, before I have you killed for treason,” the king hissed through clenched teeth, nostrils flaring and eyes set in a hardened stare. N’Jobu tried to hold onto his anger, but fear and anxiety creeped in him. Not of the man in front of him, but of what his arrival meant. He would have to  leave them, and he would rather die than abandon his family. His love Nia and their son Erik were his whole world, and now with his world crumbling before his eyes he chose to do what he never thought he’d do. N’Jobu’s eyes began to fill with tears that refused to fall and he looked the king directly in the eye as his jaw clenched and unclenched. He slowed down his breathing and focused on the map and the sounds of Erik and his friends playing outside loudly on the basketball court. The king noticed the change in his demeanor immediately and slowly released the younger man from his grasp. The Dora Milaje were still on guard. 

When N’Jobu finally spoke, he hoped his brother would really hear what he had to say. No longer was this about his plan to liberate Black people worldwide, this had to be about one Black woman in particular. Despite his crimes and utter disrespect for the crown, N’Jobu pleaded with his brother in hopes of getting through to him.

“T’Chaka please,” he spoke softly. “He needs his mother.”

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Commitment issues [Dean Winchester x Reader]

Title: Commitment issues Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word count: 3.7k Published: 9 July, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: You broke up with Dean, in fear of losing him both as a friend and a lover, but Dean doesn’t like the options he has been given.

Supernatural Masterlist | Masterlists

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

It was 8am on the morning, you were taking care of your morning routine in the bathroom. It was rather early and you very well knew that Sam was out to get something to eat as the fridge has been emptied out by his brother last night. Dean was still asleep in his room, so you didn't take any of your cloths with you. You wrapped yourself in your towel, knowing noone would interrupt you. Or so you thought.

As you walked out of the shared bathroom, closing the door behind you, you ran into something hard. You felt arms around your waist steading you. You looked up to meet two emerald green irises, realising Dean was holding onto you with a mischievous look on his face.

"Well, what a pleasant surprise. Is it my birthday?" He chuckled, but you just huffed in an annoyed tone.

"Shut up, Dean." You rolled your eyes, removing his hands from your waist, walking around him. You barely took a few steps before his arms wrapped around your torso once again, dipping his head into the crook of your neck.

"Come on, love. Stop this already." He heaved a deep sigh, making your skin shiver.

"We have talked about this, Dean." You spoke, massaging your temple as you felt a slight headache thumping in the front of your skull.

"Yes, we have. And you are being completely unreasonable." He huffed, but didn't move away. He kept himself hidden in your neck, which made it very hard for you to think clearly.

"I am not being unreasonable. I told you, I need you to be my friend." You repeated yourself once again, just like the previous hundred times.

"I can be your friend and your lover. You know I love you and I know you love me. Stop this already and just let it happen." He tried to convince you, but it never worked for him. It just always ended up being a huge argument, causing you to not speak to each other for days.

You turned around in his arms, placing your hands on his hard chest, enjoying the feeling of his warmth against your palm. It was hard to stay away from him, of course you loved him, you didn't break up, because you didn't love each other, you broke up with him, because you never wanted to lose him.

You looked up into his eyes and placed a palm on his cheek, which he comfortably leaned into.

"I told you so many times, Dean. Why do I have to keep repeating myself? I would rather have you as a friend, close to me, by my side, than to lose you." You tried to make him understand in the softest tone you could manage.

"You will not lose me." He placed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, taking your scent in.

"But I will. You still don't understand. We broke up peacefully and this way we could stay friends. But if we start dating again, how do you know that there will not be problems, that we will not part in a nasty way. I can't handle losing you. I'd rather have you close as a friend, knowing that you will be by my side, than to lose both a friend and a lover at the same time." You were almost begging him to understand, but he was a hard nut to crack.

"So you expect me to act as if we were just friends? I can't just put my feelings aside and frankly, I don't understand, how can you." He raised his voice and leaned away from you, taking back a step, removing his hands from your waist.

"I'm sorry, but I can. You are too important to me to just give it up for a fling." You shook your head in disagreement.

"A fling? We love each other and you call that a fling?" He asked with furrowed brows.

"You know that's not what I meant. I am trying to tell you that if we stay friends, I can be next to you for years or even decades. But if we start it all over again, how do you know we will not break up in a year?" You wanted to make him see your side, but he just shook his head.

"We have been best friends for years, before we even got together. I know everything about you. I know that you like to tug the duvet between your legs, so your knees don't touch. I know that you always buy two burgers for yourself and hide one in the pocket of your jacket so noone knows that you have quite a big appetite." He smirked at the thought and it made you return his expression. He stepped closer, cupping your face as he continued. "I know that you scrunch up your nose when you are thinking very hard about something. I know that you have a hard exterior and always try to act though, but you hide the spiders you find in the bunker, in a little jar and free them later, because you can't get yourself to kill them. I know you and I know I love every little quirky part of your personality. Isn't that enough?" His tone was gentle, loving and you just wanted to hug him and pull him as close as you could to tell him that you were there for him and you believed him. But you couldn't.

"Honestly, I love that you know so much about me, but it's not enough. It doesn't prove that we are not going to have a huge fight that later which will break us up. What if I did something dumb? Like get jealous and go all possessive on your ass? You would be angry at me and I wouldn't be able to let it go and we would fight and it would get nasty." You attempted to convince him once again, but he just smiled.

"I would just think that you are adorable and I would prove you that I am all yours." He winked at you playfully, but you just heaved a deep sigh.

"You don't understand. What if we have a huge fight and we break up? I would lose you." You groaned in annoyance.

"No, you wouldn't. We would sit down and talk it through." He tried to reassure you.

"No, I don't want to risk it. I want you to be my friend, nothing more, nothing less." You spoke firmly and you could see his body become tense as he stood back.

"If you continue like this you will lose me as a friend as well." He said as he walked around you, heading towards his room.

"Come on, Dean!" You shouted after him, but he didn't listen. He loudly shut the door of his room, ignoring your desperate calls. You heaved a deep sigh and massaged the back of your neck to release the tension built up in your body out of frustration.

You walked back to your room to dress up in your usual black clothings, then headed to the kitchen, sitting down at the table, waiting for Sam and Dean to get ready. Sam has previously told Bobby that you would go over to him to see if he was okay. At first he was quite reluctant, trying to get rid of you all, but soon he changed his mind. You were glad. He was like a father figure to you since the moment your parents got murdered and he took you in. You looked up to him even when he was getting on your nerves with his wise-ass behaviour.

However your happiness quickly disappeared when you heard that Bobby invited both Jo and Ellen. You didn't have problem with the latter, but knowing and witnessing Jo's and Dean's relationship develop was hard enough to watch before, you definitely didn't want to see them cozying up to each other once again.

You heaved a deep sigh, hiding your face behind your palms, wanting to forget about everything and anything that recently happened between you and Dean. It was exhausting and complicated and you knew it was all your fault, but you just needed his friendship. Loving him was hard, but you dared to sacrifice that, so you could stay by each other's side.

"Ready?" Sam asked, standing in the doorway as Dean was already walking up to the entrance door. You nodded and followed the boys, closing the door harshly behind yourself. You took your seat behind Dean in the Impala, feeling a clear tension between the two of you. You knew he was pissed and that forced silence and ignorance he was giving you, confirmed your thoughts.

The ride was silent, even Sam didn't dare to interrupt, other than for a toilet and snack break. After about 6 hours of travelling, Dean finally pulled into Bobby's yard, parking the Impala in front of the porch. You all got out of the car, but by the time you closed the door behind you, you saw Jo embracing Dean in a big hug. You snorted in annoyance, causing Sam to chuckle.

"Shut up..." You told him, trying to act as if nothing happened, but Sam knew better. You walked up the old, creaking wooden stairs to the porch where you nodded towards Jo and Ellen, before walking around them to greet Bobby with a big hug. You didn't have a personal issue with Jo, you knew she was a tough girl who was also very smart and kind, but that just fuelled your jealousy even more.

"Good to see you, Little one." Bobby greeted you as you hugged his big bear-like frame.

"Good to see you too. You look awful, I hope you know that." You chuckled as you looked at the ever growing beard covering his jaw. "You need to shave, before this gets out of hand." You pulled on his beard, but he just pushed your hand away.

"I'm a man. Men are hairy." He stated with a grin across his face, which you simply nodded at.

You walked into the house watching as Bobby ushered both Dean and Sam after you. You sat down in the living room in an armchair by the side of the sofa, while Sam, Bobby and Ellen took a seat on the couch. Dean took his place on another armchair across form you with Jo sitting on the armrest.

"Would you like to drink a beer?" Ellen asked, but before any of you could have answered, she was already on her way to the kitchen.

Everyone was talking about little nothings, which honestly frustrated you. You were fighting monsters, you were not supposed to just sit around and do nothing. But of course, that wasn't the main source of your frustration. Seeing Dean and Jo being way too cozy with each other, giggling at one another and having fun, made you tense. Every time Jo held onto Dean' bicep, you wanted to walk over to tell her that he was your man. But he wasn't and you knew how dumb you were to be jealous.

After an hour of watching the lovely couple feeling more and more comfortable with each other, stealing little touches from one another, you got bored of watching it. You rolled your eyes and decided to go and release some tension. You stood up abruptly and placed your bottle of beer on the counter, before heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Sam called after you, but you just pulled your gun out of your belt and showed it to him from behind, not even wanting to turn around, fearing to catch a glimpse of the cozy little couple.

You walked to the back of Bobby's building, where a big green land was waiting for you, behind his junk yard. Bobby was keeping some vegetables and fruits in a basket that he used to practice shooting. You placed the rotten fruits on each wooden log, standing on the field, using them as targets. You stepped back, concentrated and started shooting. Using your gun always made you feel a bit lighter, a bit less stressed, a bit less confused. It didn't solve your problems, but it certainly helped your frustration to be kept in control. You have done 3-4 rounds, firing your bullets into each and every objects, not even missing one.

"Well done." You heard as you quickly turned around, your gun still raised in your hands. You heaved a deep sigh and lowered your weapon, loosening your grip on it.

"Sorry, didn't hear you coming." You said as you took another batch of apples and put them on the wooden logs.

"How long are you planning to dance around each other?" Bobby asked, making you turn abruptly, almost getting a whiplash.

"Really, Bobby? You want to talk about relationship issues?" You asked with a sceptical tone.

"Believe me, the last thing I want to know is what you and Dean are doing behind closed doors, but what you do to him and to yourself is affecting others too." You scoffed at his reply and started shooting again, ignoring his presence. "You know this is my house, right?" He asked, making you frown. "I have plenty of time. I am not going anywhere." He smirked, but you simply rolled your eyes, before you finished your round and gave your attention to him.

"I don't want to talk about this. This is between him and me." You shrugged, not wanting to say more, but Bobby thought otherwise.

"You know, Little one, I love you, but you are seriously acting dumb. Like a whole lot of dumb." He grimaced.

"Don't you start as well." You warned him with an expressionless face.

"I am not starting anything. I don't think I raised you to be scared." He scoffed.

"I am not scared." You raised your voice.

"Yes, you are. You are scared of commitment. But you forget that in our line of work, there might not even be a tomorrow." He attempted to convince you and for once you couldn't reply. "If I understand this whole situation well, you are trying to stay friends, so you don't have to part ways. But pushing your feelings aside, instead of enjoying the moment, when you could be murdered tomorrow, is plain dumb." You scoffed at his last sentence.

"Oh please. We have lived through years and we are still here." You turned away to put another batch of fruits on the wooden logs, but he got hold of your wrist and stopped you.

"No, you don't get it. Do you think I have ever thought that it would be my hands that'd kill Karen? Back then I didn't even know what this world was. I barely scratched the surface." He explained, but you cut him off.

"Bobby..." You tried to stop him, but to no avail.

"Don't Bobby me." He cut you off. "In one second I had a beautiful wife, who I loved dearly, the next I killed her with my own hands. You never know what will come to you the next day and you can't comprehend how guilty I feel not just for ending her life, but not giving her enough love, for not being by her side in her last days." He spoke in a harsh tone

"That's a different...."You attempted to cut in, but he didn't let you.

"It's not different. You don't want to lose him, but you don't want to be with him. You love each other, so you can't be friends again. If you decide not to be with him, then cut him off. You can't keep pretending that you can live next to each other, when you clearly can't. However if you want to stay by his side, then go to him, tell him you love him and be with him for God's sake, because you can lose him any time. Not by a break up. There are far worse ways to lose someone in this world." His words cut deep and you knew he was right, but you were way too stubborn to just agree with him. You didn't reply, nor did you look at him. You just stood there, replaying his words in your head. "I will leave you to yourself. It's a decision you have to make, but you have to deal with the consequences as well." He said as he went back into the house.

Bobby's words rang through your mind. You wanted to be with Dean, you loved him. You wanted to cuddle up to him while watching his favourite series on his laptop. You wanted to open your eyes on the morning, laying under his arms across your waist. You wanted to get his sweet temple and neck kisses like he has given you so many times before. But you didn't want to lose him and you were scared of breaking up.

"What you up to?" You heard his deep, husky voice. He was the last person you needed right now.

"Relaxing." You replied expressionless.

"You can relax in the house too." He said with a cheeky grin.

"Thanks, I'm good. You are the one who is expected inside." You spoke again.

"Expected?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Jo is probably missing your company already." You scoffed.

"Are you jealous?" He asked with a big, cheerful smile, but you just looked at him with a deadly expression across your face. Of course you were, you just didn't want him to know. It was meant to be just a snarky comment.

"You wish." You shook your head.

"Yeah, I do." He chuckled, playfully. "And I wish you would finally change your mind though." He spoke again in a more serious tone.

"Look Dean, you told me yourself. In our lives, we do not have the luxury to get attached." You argued.

"Yeah, we do not have the luxury to get attached to normal people, but we are not normal. We are hunters. You are by my side each and every time we go to hunt, you know how I feel, how I think, I don't have to keep secrets from you. I would want the apple pie, white fence, comfortable dream life with you, but we can't do that. At least I want to try being with you in this screwed up life, we have." He tried to convince you and you knew you were breaking. Both Bobby and Dean had very good points.

"So what if I lose you? What if we break up?" You asked.

"Again this? We have known each other for years. I think, I have proved you enough that I want to stay with you for as long as I can, you are just unable to get that into that stubborn little head of yours." He heaved a deep sigh, while massaging his temple. "Whatever." He whispered, as he turned away and started walking back to the house.

"Fuck this!" You told more to yourself, before you walked after Dean, got hold of his wrist and turned him back around. He had a rather surprised expression, but you didn't care. You chuckled at his face and grabbed the collar of his flannel shirt, pulling him closer to you, attaching your lips to his.

He didn't hesitate, a couple of seconds after his initial shock, he kissed you back, wanting to feel your lips against his once again. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you even closer to him, not wanting to leave any space between you. You ran your fingers across his neck, digging into his short hair at the back of his head, tugging on the ends, making him growl. You smiled into the kiss, but it quickly got swept off your face as his tongue licked across your lower lip, making you moan in pleasure, as he was asking for entrance.

The kiss was heated, but loving, making you want to stay in the moment, but air was much needed and Dean broke the kiss. He didn't leave your closeness though, he placed his forehead against yours with closed eyes.

"Why did you do that?" He asked, trying to organise his breathing.

"Because I love you. And because I think I realised that if I lost you, I would always feel guilty for not being with you, for not showing you how much I loved you." You replied in a soft tone as you hinted a sweet, little peck on his lips. You could hear the deep light sigh leaving his lungs. His grin was nowhere, a loving smile appeared on his face this time.

"Well, I'm not that easy to get rid off, so I guess you will have to be stuck with me for quite a long time." His smile grew bigger, along with yours.

"I don't think I mind." You chuckled and hugged him, placing your face into the crook of his neck.

"I love you." He kissed your temple in a sweet manner.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to like and/or reblog the fic. Thank you :) 

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

[glcssysky]

HAIKYUU HEADCANONS sfw alphabet - ushijima

A = AFFECTION (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?) let's be honest, this man doesn't come off as very affectionate. i feel like he would let you lie on him or sit in his lap whilst he played with your hair. he may give you a small cheek or forehead kiss every now and then, but that is probably about it.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

B = BEST FRIEND (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?) let's just go off his and tendou's relationship. they most likely met through being first years together on shiratorizawa's volleyball team. with their opposite personalities, they most likely clicked pretty quickly; opposites attract. if you were best friends with him, i would say he would still act just as quiet and stern, but would open to you about home life, his interests etc. you would study together, go out on certain days just to hang.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

C = CUDDLES (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?) probably his best way of showing affection to either a friend or s/o. he would ADORE cuddling you, especially if you were his partner. him most likely being the taller one of the two, it would either be him sat leant against something, with you sat between his legs, back against his chest and his arms around your waist. or, you both lay down, you facing away from him. he would be hugging you firmly to his chest, his face nuzzled into your hair.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

D = DOMESTIC (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?) he is 100% down for settling down somewhere with you. because pf his career, he would be travelling a lot, but once done with tournaments, would come home. you would probably own a house in the countryside. (despite him earning a lot of money he would prefer a simpler life, with a little mix of modern). he can probably cook a little, and definitely cleans a lot.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

E = ENDING (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) face to face would be his way. he would rather be able to talk it out, and would want to comfort the other if they got upset. he would go about it my speaking to them softly about how he felt, and go on about the fact they could stay friends. he would hug you and apologise for making you upset if you did get upset too.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

F = FIANCEE (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?) he is a strong-minded man, and would be able to commit to it. he would probably want to get engaged and then married at least after 2 years of relationship, if the relationship was strong. he would struggle to propose and it would probably seem like he was emotionless (as usual), but bless him he tried.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

G = GENTLE (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) very, VERY gentle. despite him being a big man, he wouldn't hurt you. the only time he risks injury is through sport, and even then he seemed upset about hurting another person. he would be super gentle with his hugs and hand holding, and he would be the biggest comforter ever. he is probably more of a listener, but definitely is gentle enough to not give you a harsh or sharp response.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

H = HUGS (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?) he won't admit it, but he LOVES hugs. he would try to hug you almost 24/7 when you are both alone. in public, he would most likely hug you from behind and rest his head on yours or your shoulder. his hugs would be the BEST. big arms and a big chest, it would be super comfy, warm, and would make you feel safe.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

I = I LOVE YOU (how fast do they say the l-word?) almost immediately, but with the most monotone voice and blank expression, like he usually speaks. he would just look you dead in the eye and say it, staring at you whilst he waited for a response.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

J = JEALOUSY (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?) i don't think he would get TOO jealous, but he is definitely one to get quite jealous. he would mainly get jealous if you were spending a LOT more time with someone else, or if you were giving an animal more attention then him. he would be the silent jealous type, and would probably just glare at whoever you are giving your attention to.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

K = KISSES (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?) his kisses would consist of very gently ones, mostly on your forehead, cheek, or knuckles if he is holding your hand. there would occasionally be lip kisses, but they would be more slow and gentle rather than rough. he loves to be kissed on his jaw, and sometimes the bridge of his nose.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

L = LITTLE ONE (how are they around children?) i am not gonna lie, i feel like his presence may scare some children since he is big and scary. but, i feel like he would be very good with them and in taking care of them. they would use him as a climbing frame, and he would not mind one bit, moving himself each time so they had a different climbing stature.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

M = MORNING (how are mornings spent with them?) 90% of the time, he will wake up before you. he would, however, constantly be hugging you close to him. once you had woken up, he would greet you with a morning before kissing your forehead. he would then proceed to get up and make you breakfast.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

N = NIGHT (how are nights spent with them?) similar to the mornings. he would make sure to fall asleep after you, just to ensure you actually got to sleep, and he wouldn't leave your side. the night would probably be him talking to you quietly about things and you the same to him. you would be, as guessed, hugged from behind close to his chest, and that position wouldn't change overnight.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

O = OPEN (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) he is definitely more of a closed off guy. i think it would take him at least a week to start making small talk in general, and then definitely a few months of being closer friends or partners to open to you about more personal things. i mean, he was pretty open to tendou and the team about his father, so i guess that topic itself is not very hard for him to talk about.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

P = PATIENCE (how easily angered are they?) depending on the circumstance, he has a LOT of patience. he definitely doesn't get angry over a lot of things, even to the point of being pestered. the only time he really gets angry would be in a game, if the other team are finding a way to beat him, or if you talk about his dad a lot, especially in an insensitive way.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

Q = QUIZZES (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) he would remember EVERYTHING, and i mean EVERYTHING. he puts a lot of work and care into getting to know his partner better, and will remember little things about you, and stuff you do or like, even if you don't tell him and he just sees you doing it. he knows you almost better than yourself, in a good and healthy way of course.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

R = REMEMBER (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?) it always will be your first kiss. that moment when you both leant in and shared that soft connection between each other was in fact his own first kiss. that moment plays in head head a lot, and he definitely smiles about it and random points in the day.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

S = SECURITY (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?) he wouldn't want to nor need to be protected himself, since he doesn't get into any kind of fights with anyone, other than small quarrels with other team captains/members. he would be very protective over you, but just wouldn't show it as much. if you were being bullied, harassed or whatever, he would definitely step in and just glare down at the person doing so, asking them to leave and not do what they were doing again. he would never resort to violence.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

T = TRY (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) weeks are spent planning these things out with him. he wouldn't want anything to go wrong, so would plan out where you were going, how much money to bring, where to go after and what to do etc. everything would be made perfect for you, even just lunch at home.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

U = UGLY (what would be some bad habits of theirs?) overworking, not drinking enough water and staying quiet about some problems. when it comes to planning out your dates, or training for volleyball, he would do it non-stop. there is no doubt he works WAY too much on both of these, for hours of end with no breaks too. alongside volleyball training, he wouldn't drink as much as he should. he wouldn't have a bottle with him and would usually only bring the small carton of drink. you would have to bring a bottle to the match and make sure he gets it. with his personal issues, he would stay quiet about them, unless you asked. then he would explain.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

V = VANITY (how concerned are they with their looks?) he is concerned about them to the extent that he always looks presentable. regular showers are a thing with him, and afterwards he would style his hair. he shaves regularly too.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

W = WHOLE (would they feel incomplete without you?) although he wouldn't show it, he wouldn't feel the same not having you around. he wouldn't have somebody as close to open up to, or talk about things you two did together, since he wouldn't want to bombard tendou with it all.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

X = XTRA (a random headcanon for them.) you would have plants all over your home when you moved in together. guaranteed he already has a bunch in his dorm at school too, on both the desk and the windowsill. if no one is there, he most likely talks to them.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

Y = YUCK (what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?) he wouldn't like someone who goes out without him a lot, to party or something either. he wouldn't really like someone who is really pushy with him and his emotions either. in general, i don't think he would like animals like rodents, or snowy weather.

⊱ ──────── ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ──────── ⊰

Z = ZZZ (what is a sleep habits of theirs?) this man definitely snores occasionally. oh, and if you saw in that one season 4 clip, he has a volleyball in his bed next to his pillow.

requested by: n/a word count: 1927 words started/finished: 05.08.20 - 06.08.20 next character + theme: feel free to ask in my ask box for the next character!

[sahbibabe]

The SOLDIER's New Haircut

Sephiroth x Hairdresser! Fem! Reader

I was supposed to be finishing a request for smut and I ended up writing this instead to play off the picture I posted. Enjoy!

When Sephiroth opened the door to your shared home, you greeted him with a smile--one that quickly faded when you got a good look at the absolute hack job that had been done to his hair. Stray wisps still clung on, some parts chunky and others as thin as a razor's edge. It looked as if he had taken his sword to it, literally, and went to town.

"Sephiroth, what in the world happened to your hair?!" You sputtered, rising from the couch and darting over to him like a startled doe. "You look like you were sent straight through a grinder!"

His eyes displayed his irritation well enough, but his lips were pulled into a hard frown that gave you a hint as to the extent of his displeasure. "A stray mech caught it with its blade, enough that I had to get rid of all of it so it would match."

"And it took you forever to grow that out, too," you tutted, reaching up and rubbing the strands between your fingers. It was still soft, but it felt odd to have it end suddenly around his shoulders and not down towards his knees. You worried your lip between your teeth. "I'll fix this for you. Get one of the stools from the kitchen while I go get my equipment."

"Thank you, [Name]." He was relieved that you had offered and he wouldn't have to ask. He never trusted anyone with his hair besides himself, and you of course because you managed to tie it up before he did his morning exercises, and had no true idea how to fix the mess he'd made besides shaving himself bald.

"Silly man." You leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Don't you know I'd do anything for you? Now go get that stool. It'll take a little bit to figure out what to do with it."

When he was sitting on the stool in the kitchen, the only place in your home that was tile and not carpet, you emerged with your scissors, comb, clippers, and cape. It was hilarious to see him in a bright pink, chocobo print cape that you used only on your younger clients, and you had to stiffle a giggle every time you looked at his face to determine the right length.

"Let's see..." You straightened out his bangs as much as you could, holding your thumbs to his jaw as a crude measurement. "I can save the bangs somewhat, but the rest of it will be pretty short and layered. You really did a number on your hair, honey."

"That's fine." He gave a noncommittal hum. He probably had no idea what you were even talking about. "Whatever you think looks best."

You raised an eyebrow. "Okay, but don't yell at me when it turns out to be something you don't like."

"When have I ever yelled at you?"

You paused, twirling your scissors around your fingers in thought. "Point taken. Chin up, and try not to move."

You began by cutting off chunks of the hair that were uneven or longer than the majority. Every snip had Sephiroth cringing, the long strands fluttering to the floor. You would stop every once in a while to let him get his bearings, sweeping up the hair around him so he wouldn't look at just how much you were cutting off.

"That's better. Now I have an even medium to work with," you cheered, threading your fingers through the not quite shoulder length locks happily. "Okay, now let's spray this down with some water and get to work."

Sephiroth sat compliently while you worked, distracting himself by watching the determined expression on your face whenever you returned to his face and straightened out his head and the front lengths of his bangs. You would hum, nod, and return to the back of his head, the hair getting shorter and shorter until it rested just behind his ears, the same length as the longest part of his bangs.

When you were finished with the backs and sides, you plopped yourself in his lap and straddled him, brushing out his bangs with your comb. His hands went up to support you, settling easily on your hips.

Through the thin layer of hair covering his face, you could see him staring at you. A dark blush crept up your neck and you cleared your throat. "Stop staring at me, or I'll never finish your hair at this rate."

He chuckled and obediently moved his gaze elsewhere, settling somewhere around your chest, but you couldn't bother yourself to mind it. Having someone stare at you while you worked was flustering even in a professional space.

To appease his rapidly turning mind, you gave him a quick kiss whenever you began trimming up his bangs. A snip here, a kiss there; an angled cut there, a kiss to his nose. You repeated this process until you were happy with the length that framed his face, pinching them between your fingers and straightening them to see if you had gotten them uneven.

"I didn't even need the clippers," you hummed, running your fingers through his hair and absentmindedly fixing it to a 'just got out of bed' look. "There you go! All done. I put a mirror here somewhere..."

You produced a fluorescent green mirror from your goody bag with gusto. You had chosen it to remind you of Sephiroth's eyes a little bit, but you didn't need to tell him that.

He touched the shortness towards his ear, eyebrows furrowed, and then nodded firmly. "It looks fine. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you beamed, delighted when he leaned forward and gave you a sweet peck on the lips. Score! "Are you going to try and grow it back out?"

"I don't know." He waited for you to remove the cape, shake it off, and gingerly stepped over the sad remains of his hair. You had cut off a decent portion of it, sweeping most of it into a dustpan to toss in a trash bag. "If I do, I'll have you tie it up from then on. I don't want another incident like this again."

You almost died of happiness then and there. An excuse to touch his hair? Every day? The glorious mane of Sephiroth? That he occasionally let you pull on in the bedroom?

"Sweet!" You crowed, dumping the hair into the bag and yanking him into a tight hug. "It's a deal!"

[badacts]

human shield

The grocery store at midnight is pleasant in a dreamy, sterile way - uniform, brightly coloured, the quiet only broken by someone’s top 40 playlist just loud enough to make out the words.

Dick, coasting along with one foot up on the back bar of the cart, is the one to break it when his phone goes off in his pocket. “Hello?”

“Grayson.” It’s his superior, Milan, terse as ever. It’s his day off, and he immediately jumps to Arkham breakout, and then, someone’s dead. Christ, he’s paranoid. “We need you to come to the West End mall. There’s a hostage situation, and the hostage-taker is asking for you.”

“I’ll be there,” Dick replies, abandoning his cart in the middle of the aisle without a thought. “Who is it?”

Of course, he’s already talking to the dial tone. It’s the impetus he needs to move fast, though.

It’s a usual set up - a cordon, cop cars and cops everywhere, worried or curious civilians hanging around outside along with some reporters that call to Dick as he jogs by. He waves a little to the familiar faces he sees, and then sees Milan standing at the back of a van.

“I’m here,” Dick says. “What’s happening?”

There’s a police negotiator Dick vaguely recognises sitting in the van, and he gives Dick an impatient look. “What’s happening is that this guy won’t let us do our job because he wants to talk to you.” Clearly not a fan, then.

“Isn’t your job to try give the guy what he wants?” Dick asks, hopping up into the van. There’s a computer screen with the mall CCTV pulled up on it, showing a couple of guys with rifles loitering in the main part of the mall.

“We’re just about to get footage of the hostages,” Milan says. She’s a slight, no-nonsense black woman who Dick would propose to in an instant if she weren’t definitely batting for a team that firmly doesn’t include him. “Thankfully they’ve holed up in a shop with an external wall, because we can get access via the vents for a look.”

“Great,” Dick says. “Any idea who the guy is?”

“Marcus O’Reilly,” Milan supplies, and hands him a slim brown file. “Just got out of Blackgate after serving his time for armed robbery and drugs charges.”

“Doesn’t sound familiar,” Dick says, flipping the file open. A sullen face with a shaved head stares back. The guy doesn’t look familiar, either.

“You arrested him,” Milan supplies. “Warehouse bust, eighteen months ago.”

Dick thinks back. “I arrested fifteen people that evening.”

“Well, this one seems to have found the experience pretty memorable,” Milan says drily. “Usually I would assume he’s holding a grudge, but, knowing you, you probably gave him a particularly memorable pep talk that he’s hoping to hear one more time before he goes back to prison.”

“It’s nice to be appreciated,” Dick says, and then gestures to the negotiator’s setup. “Do you mind?”

The negotiator sighs but gives his seat up for Dick, hopping down from the van. Dick hopes he sticks close - this isn’t exactly Dick’s general wheelhouse, for all the practice he’s had at talking people down.

“We’re getting a sniper up on the roof,” Milan says matter-of-factly before he picks up the phone. “He’s not going to have a great shot, though.”

That’s true enough. The interior storefronts are all glass, as is a large portion of the western wall, but the eastern one, where the hostages are, is concrete. Whoever is up there will be able to see okay through the shop displays and window signage, but it’s a fair distance from one side to the other.

Dick picks up the stupid bright red negotiator phone and dials the number scrawled across the paper in front of the computer. It rings a few times before it clicks live.

“Hi,” Dick says, when O’Reilly doesn’t speak. “This is Detective Grayson.”

“S’up,” comes the reply. Despite the name, the guy sounds as Gotham as they come, and not all that old. Dick flicks his eyes back to the file and translates the birthdate to someone younger than him. “I wanna talk to you, man.”

“We’re talking right now, Marcus,” Dick says, leaning back in the chair. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Face to face,” O’Reilly corrects. “Come down here.”

“Are your friends going to let me in?” Dick asks.

“They will if I tell them to.”

Dick squints at the computer thoughtfully. “We need to talk about the hostages first, Marcus.”

“What about ‘em?” O’Reilly asks.

“If I’m going to come down there, I need a bit of a goodwill gesture. What about letting some of the hostages go free?” That’s his goal here. Get the innocents out. Everything else is just icing.

O’Reilly laughs. “Get real, Detective. You come down here, or I start killing ‘em one by one.” Then he hangs up.

“Nice guy,” Dick says, putting the phone down. “How far off are we on the camera?”

“Five seconds,” Milan says, and then, “There we go.”

On the screen, a new window pops up of slightly clearer footage. The hostage-takers - three of them, all visibly armed - are facing away from the wall, and so away from the camera, just inside the wide-view lens’ reach. The hostages are all sitting on the floor, lined up against the storefront. The shop stock has been shoved to the side to clear the space. It looks like a homeware store - the shopfront is stocked with blankets and pillows and vases.

Dick figures the centremost figure has got to be Marcus. He’s got one of the hostages on his knees, closer than the others, and in easy reach of both his hands and the handgun he’s holding. The hostage is turned towards the camera, their face just visible behind Marcus’s hip.

“Fuck,” Dick says, dumbstruck and loud enough to surprise even himself.

“What?” Milan demands sharply.

“That’s my brother,” Dick says.

*

He can see it, in his mind’s eye. Tim in the wrong place, at the wrong time, knowing that there’s shit-all he can do as Tim Drake-Wayne and not much more he can do to get out of the situation and be not-Tim-Drake-Wayne when there are five guns versus him and a bunch of civilians.

Tim wouldn’t sit and let the others get threatened. He’d volunteer himself as the most valuable hostage, tell them his whole life story to make sure they knew the precise monetary value of his continued being alive. 

Or, worse, he’d talk until he got their attention and was singled out that way, neglecting to mention at all that he was a rich man’s rich son. Going by the bruise blooming over his jaw, Dick is going to take door number two this time.

Milan had said some things about conflict of interest and safety and ‘not getting yourself killed’, but they both know the only option was for him to go. He straps on a bulletproof vest over the thin WE body armour he always wears at work. Hopefully none of the grocery store security cameras had been pointing at his car while he changed earlier, or some rent-a-cop must have gotten an eyeful. 

He debates, and then straps on his piece as well as the electrified escrima that looks just like a standard-issue folding baton. It’s not going to save him or anyone else against five guys with high-powered weapons, but it’s better than nothing.

He gets a SWAT escort to the front doors. At least they, unlike the uniform GCPD guys, don’t look at him like he’s a bomb about to go off. The captain - Jenkins, Dick thinks - waves him off with a cheery, “See you soon,” not entirely belied by the way he’d assured Dick and Milan both they’d come in as fast as possible, guns blazing, when necessary.

“See you,” Dick says, and ventures forward alone. The mall is a mess from where people fled earlier - it’s one of those late-night places, where the cinema and restaurants stay open until midnight or so. It’s a Saturday, and even in Gotham there would have been some crowds.

He winds his way through to the shop and slips past the men guarding the door - not in full body armour, he notes, but their faces are covered with balaclavas - without a word. 

“Hey,” he says to announce his presence. One of the hostages, very quietly, sobs. He looks around quickly, checking for injuries, and doesn’t find anything serious. He saves Tim for last, meeting his eyes quick and away before looking to O’Reilly. “I’m here. In the flesh.”

“In position,” Smith, the sniper, says over the comms.

“Visibility is poor,” Oracle says in his other ear. “It’s starting to rain. He’s not going to be able to see shit.”

“Detective Grayson, everybody,” O’Reilly says, tone mock-warm. He’s the only one not wearing a mask. He’s pulled Tim up as a proper human shield, and they’re almost of a height. The half-inch he has on Tim is going to make shooting him from the rooftop across the street almost impossible in these conditions.

“You’ve got me,” Dick says calmly. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I lied,” O’Reilly says. “I don’t really want to talk. I just want to kill you.”

“Okay,” Dick replies. “Well, I’m here now. Why don’t you let the hostages go?”

O’Reilly moves too fast. The gun goes off, and for a moment Dick expects pain. Then, from behind him, someone screams.

He’s shot one of the hostages. Belly wound, bleeding badly. Marcus says, cold, “I’m not here to make bargains.”

“You’ve got something against shoppers?” Dick asks. He’s still calm. So far.

“To be honest, I just don’t care.” He smiles like someone who should have been in Arkham, not Blackgate.

“Let them go,” Dick says. 

O’Reilly tilts his head. Then he grins. “You know what? Fine. All of you at the front? Go. And take that guy with you.”

The hostages don’t move, staring wide-eyed between him and the other hostage-takers and Dick. The one with the gut wound is panting and clutching at his stomach, rapidly going grey.

O’Reilly shouts, “Go!” Then he fires a bullet into the ceiling.

One of the fluorescent lights overhead shatters in a spray of plastic. The hostages, though - they run, two of them barely pausing to hoist the injured one between them. Then it’s just the five guys with guns, Tim, Dick, and a puddle of blood.

“Are you going to let that one go, too?” Dick asks.

“Not a chance,” O’Reilly replies. He’s got an arm slung around Tim’s neck.

“He’s a kid,” Dick says, steadily. He doesn’t think that, really, or at least not most of the time. But in jeans, sneakers and an oversized hoodie, Tim looks young.

In his ear, the SWAT team are reporting on the condition of the hostages as they’re whisked to safety. Dick blocks it out.

“You think I don’t watch the news? That I can’t go to a library?” O’Reilly says. He’s smiling, small and mean. “I’m not an idiot. I know exactly who this guy is.” And he jams the muzzle of his gun hard against the side of Tim’s head. “This is your little brother.”

Tim doesn’t flinch. He says, “Adopted brother.”

There’s a cold silence, and then O’Reilly moves the gun from Tim’s skull - quick death - to somewhere down near his kidneys. “Alright, smart guy.”

Dick gives Tim a look that says, shut up. Tim, being smarter than their other siblings, does so.

“Me ‘n’ my brother, we were both at the warehouse that night. Got arrested and thrown in Blackgate, matching sentences,” O’Reilly says.

“Bet your mom’s really proud,” Dick says before he can stop himself. 

O’Reilly ignores him. “Billy had debts, though. And I couldn’t protect him, in there, not like I could out here. And guess how that ended up for him?”

“William O’Reilly’s dead,” Babs fills in flatly, at the same time O’Reilly bellows, “He’s dead! And it’s your fault!”

Dick had already seen where this was going, but he’s not exactly keen on the confirmation. “I didn’t make you rob people at gunpoint, Marcus.”

“He’d be alive, if it weren’t for you,” O’Reilly snarls. “But guess what? Here you are, and here’s your brother. So I think it’s my turn to make good tonight.”

“What about your friends?” Dick asks. “What do they want out of this, exactly? Because I don’t think I’ve done anything to them.”

“These guys?” O’Reilly asks, suddenly amused again. “I made some friends in high places when I got out. Show ‘im, boys.”

As one, the figures on either side of O’Reilly pull their balaclavas off. And underneath, they’re wearing masks that are slitted eyes and the curve of a beak. Owls.

Talons.

“Shit,” Babs mutters, and then, “Hurry it up, Black Bat!”

“Smith,” Milan is saying over the comms, “Do you have a shot?”

“Maybe,” Smith says. He sounds laconic, but snipers almost always do when they’re working. “Not a great one.”

So they’ve got back-up incoming. But by the look on O’Reilly’s face, they don’t have long.

“They don’t want anything,” O’Reilly says, “But, if you ask me? I think they’re probably just as happy as I am to see you both bleedin’ out on the floor.”

“Smith,” someone prompts.

“I don’t have the shot,” Smith says, “I repeat, I do not - ulp!” Then there’s nothing but silence.

“Get eyes on Smith,” Milan demands to someone else. “Now.”

Dick, aware they might have another Talon in play, aware he might be about to get shot in the back, says, “So, what’re you waiting for, exactly?”

“I’m not waiting,” O’Reilly says, “I’m just savouring.” And he raises his gun back to Tim’s head.

Tim, who’s looking at Dick with a placid facial expression, his eyes asking, what now? Because they’re not Nightwing and Red Robin. They’re Dick and Tim, and what they can do is limited by the clothes they’re wearing, and by the eyes watching them.

It doesn’t matter, anyway, not really. Neither of them is faster than a bullet. 

The gun goes off. Dick doesn’t close his eyes.

He’s expecting blood, and he gets it. What he’s not expecting is two more gunshots straight afterward.

The owl masks shatter. And O’Reilly, missing the top of his skull, drops to the ground and just barely doesn’t drag an in-one-piece-Tim with him.

“Don’t ever say I don’t do anything for you, Timmy,” a rough, half-robotic, familiar voice says over their comms, there and then gone. 

Jason.

“It’s a mask!” someone is yelling over the comms, but Dick’s already flying forward and catching Tim up in his arms, pushing him towards the wall and covering him with his body.

“What the hell were you doing here?” he demands, pulling Tim’s head against his shoulder, a show of sibling comfort that abruptly becomes real when he realises Tim is shivering. 

“Christmas shopping,” Tim mumbles into his chest, and Dick, despite himself, laughs.

[xxlovendreamsxx]

a dawning heat.

Rating: M. 

Prompt: Early Mornings.

A/N: since i haven’t really gotten to smut in my novel and won’t for a while still, i kinda missed writing it. so ofc for ssmonth i had to get back into it and bring some smut huehuehuehe. 

Also, check out @toondoon1010‘s amazing companion piece as to what happened when he woke up later!

.

.

The light had barely begun filtering through their blinds when Sakura startled awake one early June morning, green eyes wider than ever, skin layered with a sheet of sweat so heavy it had dampened the bed. Her heart was pounding in her chest, so loud she could barely hear herself think. Her body felt as though it was on fire, the heat coursing through her blood so searing that it made her head foggy.

Gods, she could still feel Sasuke’s mouth on her right now. Soft and warm and so good, working away in that little place between her legs. Holding the plushness of her ass in his strong greedy hand, steadying her position above his head. He’d always loved to have her like this, to have her rock against his mouth as she anchored her fingers into his hair. To work her with his tongue until she was nothing but trembles, until she couldn’t even string the syllables of his name together anymore. Until she was too needy and too wound up, driven closer and closer and closer to the edge—

Whimpering at the unfairness of having woken up at the poorest timing, Sakura shifted her thighs together in the hopes to relieve her blissfully strained ache, hand clenching in the sweaty sheets when she found that it simply wasn’t enough. Damnit, she’d been so close to reaching her end—why couldn’t she have woken up just a few moments later? Just enough to have allowed her to come, to have allowed her surrender to all the coiled, taut, god awful pleasure that she could still feel too clearly running through her veins? Instead, she was now left feeling like this, and…

A soft, quiet sigh exhaled behind her, followed by the sound of a body shifting slowly against the bedsheets. Tense, sweaty, Sakura swallowed, leaning back just enough to catch sight of her husband sleeping soundly on his back; hand stretched out over his abdomen, head tilted her way with peace-smoothened features, his almost-too-long black locks wild and unkempt.

He looked tired still, expectedly. Just earlier that day, Sasuke had sent her a letter telling her that he would only return later some time in the very early hours of the night, and so it was best she did not wait up for him. It hadn’t even been five hours since she’d gone to bed.

For all Sakura knew, Sasuke could have gotten home a mere fifteen minutes ago.

I really should let him sleep… Sakura thought, biting her lip as she turned back onto her side. Her hand moved to clutch the loose black shirt of his that she had donned in an effort to miss him a little bit less, helpless to stop herself from sliding her fingers to touch the skin underneath in the way her dear husband so often did anytime he felt hungry for her.

The sound that spilled from her lips was so fervent that she all but held her breath for a moment, ears fastened for the smooth breathing at her side, straining to hear any potential sign indicating that Sasuke was rousing.

Fortunately, the rhythm never changed, and her husband kept slumbering on.

Sakura exhaled in relief, thankful that she did not disturb his much needed rest. Yet still very much in need of some kind of reprieve to her persistent burning ache, she began slipping down mischievous fingers along the band of her night shorts, teasing the edges of her panties underneath.

Just because Sasuke was sleeping did not mean she couldn’t give herself some degree of satisfaction, she mused, finally diving past all the obstacles to touch herself where she so desperately needed to. She barely held in her gasp as her fingers brushed her needy clit, biting down hard on her index finger.

Pleasure rolled over her so quickly as she began to stroke herself exactly the way she liked it, so much that she too easily lost herself to fantasies: Sasuke making love to her in the shower, as he had just before he’d left on his three-month mission; Sasuke bending her over their bedroom dresser just minutes before she had to leave for a long hospital shift; Sasuke fucking her on the living room carpet, frustrated by an argument they’d been having just moments before it all.

Sasuke sucking and licking her clit as she rode his mouth, groaning her name like he’s never been so turned on in his life.

She hadn’t even realized how noisy she was being until Sasuke’s rough hand grabbed her hip, his lips brushing against her ear as he squeezed so firmly his nails dug into her skin a little. Stuttering in her strokes, Sakura blinked hazily and made a sort of sound of surprise—but it faded into a half-choked moan as his hand dipped in the wet crest between her thighs to join her own hand in her ministrations.

Stars exploded behind her vision as he didn’t waste time and began rubbing her, calloused fingers moving with expertise, pressing down with exactly the kind of pressure he knew drove her wild. Sensitive and greedy, Sakura just about arched away from his touch, whimpering helpless sounds as he quickly clutched at her thigh to keep her in place.

“Sakura,” he husked against her ear, and it was simply too much, too good. Gods did she miss him. This. Three months was always way too long.

“Sasuke-k…”

But his hand slid between her legs again, stroking as he did before, and his name trailed out into a sharp, incoherent moan. One of her hands snatched out to clutch at his wrist. His scruffy jaw brushed against the skin behind her ear, tickling her, sending shivers down her spine as he mouthed a kiss there. He began moving downwards with a path of hotter kisses, moving his fingers with even more urgency just to have her crying out more.

She did exactly that, digging sharp nails into his skin before promptly reaching behind her to grab for his hair. She tugged with enough force to make him hiss, sending goosebumps running all over her flesh.

“Fuck, Sakura…” he whispered, and he sounded so gruff that she whimpered again and tugged harder on his thick smooth locks. He groaned, and she rocked against his hand, distinctly becoming more aware of the hardness that was beginning to prod firmly at the small of her back.

“Sasuke-kun…” she breathed, relishing in the way he gently bit her neck. The stubble that had grown in his time away was almost itchy, but thankfully at this point merely tickled more than anything else.

He needs to shave… she thought dazedly.

Any further thought to the matter came to a sudden halt when Sasuke took his hand away, moving to grab her waist before swiftly rolling her around to face him. His fingers captured her chin, those of which too clearly carried her scent. Sakura blushed terribly in response, but she didn’t have time to dwell over it much more as Sasuke dipped down to kiss her deeply. Brushing a sweaty lock of hair behind her ear, he hooked her thigh over his own. His hardness was so obvious as it pressed into her stomach now, but Sasuke did nothing to remedy it as he simply put his hand back to her wet, needy warmth.

Her fingers twisted instinctively into his shirt, a cry slipping from her mouth. But Sasuke kept touching her, kissing her, relentless in his plan even as his cock unmistakably twitched against her. Sakura trembled, quivered, clinging to him helplessly as she rocked against his touch, so close to the edge. She couldn’t even reply to his murmurs of her name as he kissed her jaw, her ear, seeking some relief of his own as he rocked his hips against hers, too.

It was at that moment that she was there, so close to the edge and needing just a little more that she lost herself to instincts. Mindless, delaying her own release without meaning to, one of her hands jerked into his pajama pants to grab his incredibly hard cock, desperate to touch him. Sasuke’s hand stopped moving, brought to an abrupt halt by the feel of his fingers on his hot, fierce erection.

His mouth broke away from hers, half a moan slipping from his throat as he looked down between them. Thrusting slowly in her grip, his eyes slipped shut as he shot out to grip her thigh tightly, groaning. His sharingan had bled red and come to life because of her touch, Sakura realized as he opened his eyes and met her gaze again. There was a hunger there now, more powerful and dominant than it had ever been all night.

Her husband had finally begun to run out of patience.

Biting her lip, Sakura squeezed him and barely managed two thrusts of her hand before the last of his control snapped. Sasuke growled something wild, promptly pushing her on her back as he quickly rid himself of his pants. He pumped himself and climbed up on top of her with hungry eyes, pulling down her night shorts and plain panties while she instinctively steadied him with her hands. Guiding one leg around his waist, he slid his hand along the span of her thigh and kissed her deeply… before putting his rock-hard erection at her core and sliding inside her in one swift thrust, grunting with evident relief.

If he was tired at all tonight, none of it showed as he pounded deliciously into her, moving her ass in time with his thrusts; kissing her with all the passion that he possessed, whispering groans and loving murmurs of her name against her mouth. Sakura gasped, wrapping both legs impulsively around him and holding on tight. All too quickly, her mind left her, leaving her only able to respond to his kisses, his thrusts, matching him as best she could as she moaned his name and whimpered helplessly against the pleasure.

It wasn’t long before she finally came, before the sweet, sweet release she’d been chasing all night finally found her. Crying out, she dug her nails into his shoulders and seized a hand into his hair, holding him close and shuddering terribly.

Thankfully, Sasuke slowed his pace to allow her to draw it out, always mindful of her sensitiveness after all these years. Murmuring loving words and sloppily grinding out the last of her release, Sakura threaded gentle fingers into his damp locks, kissing him adoringly.

But she was only just beginning to catch her thoughts before her husband started moving again; at first slowly, and then more quickly, before eventually resuming his earlier pace in his frenzied need for his own release. Wrenching her lips away from his, Sakura moaned and gasped and keened encouraging cries, trashing and shaking as she clung to him desperately. She was almost too sensitive to handle his pace, too overwhelmed by the heat and his pure need for release, but it was all too good, too damn hot and passionate—

Her breath was frantic and her mind complete putty by the time he finally stiffened up and tensely ground within her a few minutes later, spilling his hot release into her with a moan of her name. Shaking, spent, she almost thought he would collapse against her… until he pulled back to look at her, dazed with both bliss and the most earnest affection.

“Were you…” he started, but trailed out. She knew what he meant by the look on his face, though.

She traced her finger on his stubbly jaw, tender.

“Close?” she asked, and he nodded slightly, as though hesitant or shy. She smiled warmly. “A little,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck to draw him nearer. “But it’s okay.”

Tired, but satisfied, Sasuke nodded again, pressing his face in the crook of her neck. He sighed slowly, sliding his arm around her waist.

He really must not have slept much, she mused, sifting soft fingers into his dark, dampened hair. Gods, she loved him.

Sighing as well, Sakura held him close and shut her eyes, wholly content. “Sasuke-kun… welcome home, anata,” she murmured. Because she hadn’t been able to when he had come home earlier.

Sasuke smiled against her neck, so sleepily. Nuzzling closer, he pressed a kiss to her skin and held her tighter, still buried inside. Connected.

“I’m home.”

[5lazarus]

Anders in Autumn, Ch. 14

the last of @cozy-autumn-prompts. :) Ch. 14, “you take my breath away”: Anders and Fenris come home. Read on AO3 here. The song I had running through my head for this chapter is Sam Cooke’s A Change is Gonna Come, and George Winston’s piano cover. Give it a listen, if you feel like it. :)

Leaves litter the streets of Kirkwall when they return. Fenris takes the horses to Hightown with him. They dawdle at first, at the gate down to Lowtown. Anders is afraid for him to leave. Over nearly a decade their relationship has shifted from mutual antipathy to grudging respect and now comradeship and this tender thing, and it is all so fragile he fears a chill wind will ruin it.

He asks, anxious, “When will I see you next?” Anything could happen while he is gone. The guards could come from him. The templars might invade the clinic. The Carta could firebomb it. Merrill could sacrifice him to Xebenkeck. She had wanted to talk to it, when Hawke accidentally summoned it.

Fenris says, “Tomorrow?” Anders’ face falls. He wanted him to say “tonight.” He nods and begins to descend the stairs, but Fenris stops him. They kiss quickly, conscious that they are a sight: a Ferelden human and a Tevene elf, with two very fine horses. They break apart before someone can try to pick their pockets. Fenris says, firmly this time, “Tomorrow.”

Anders trudges down to Lowtown, winding his way through the Foundry District and down into Darktown. The city goes from gold, trees resplendent in the crown of autumn, to dying and dirty too quickly. The old quarry walls block too much of the sun. He keeps his head down and eyes quick. No one seems to be watching him. The new clothes help.

Messere-Pounce-the-Second runs out to greet him, meowing excitedly. He’s visibly thinner--Merrill has actually kept him to his diet. Anders scoops him up and the cat rubs against his face. He’s purring.

“I should leave more often,” Anders tells him, hugging him close as Messere Pounce tucks his head under his chin and presses his cold nose to his neck. Cat in his arms, he walks into the clinic and is shocked. Merrill has whitewashed the place. She has little pots of elfroot and embrium arranged artistically through the front room. He hears a crash and a scream from the back room and sighs. He puts down Messere Pounce and goes to investigate.

Merrill is holding aloft a bottle of something green, lying prone on a heap of sacks. Anders sniffs the air: elfroot, and a lot of it. Truly a ridiculous amount, really. Even Merrill couldn’t smoke all that. He heaves his bag down. Merrill opens her eyes and grins sheepishly.

“Absinthe?” she inquires.

“Now?”

“Later!” she clarifies. “I made it myself. Isabela showed me how. I took a sack of sugar from one of Varric’s friends,” doubtless without permission, “and, well, in Rivain they drink it with rain water, but I didn’t think the water in Kirkwall would be ah, non-toxic enough. So I drew a bottle of water from the Viscount’s well.” Anders looks at her in disbelief. He resents how Hightown has the cleanest water while polluting the rest of the city. He resents that, because of the way the city itself is built, Hightown’s rainwater pours through the dirty gutters of Lowtown and floods Darktown. Every time it rains, he has to prepare for a cholera outbreak from the overflowing sewers. Every summer he prepares for malaria. Even he would not dare steal from the Viscount’s well, at least not just to make a drink. He would rather occupy it. He shakes his head and offers her a hand. She takes it, and he heaves her up.

“Thanks for whitewashing the place,” he says. “What did I miss?”

Athenril brought the elfroot for saving Mahanon’s life, apparently Imladris was a cousin, Hawke had left a bag of flaming dogshit on Varric’s doorstep, Isabela had received a very flirtatious letter from Fenris’ estranged sister, and Meredith had made three mages with connections to the underground Tranquil. Orsino had sent a letter to the Seekers. The spirits were getting restless--the very oldest ones, the ones who remembered the fall of Arlathan. The Veil was fraying. Six children in the alienage were showing signs of mana sensitivity, but Clan Sabrae was refusing to take anyone in until they had a new Keeper, First, and Second.

“But,” Merrill says, “the halla came back. As soon as they buried Marethari. So I’ve heard. So Athenril told Hawke.”

Anders pauses. Merrill fucked up, and he has no sympathy for what she did to her clan. She should have known better to make a deal with a spirit named Audacity, and one that was so obviously a Pride demon. He does pity her, perhaps, watching the convoluted ways her clan goes about ostracizing her but still makes sure she knows that they are thriving as much as they can without her. He decides not to touch it.

“Makes sense,” he says. “They have no one to train them.” Merrill flinches, and he feels a twinge of guilt. It’s like kicking a puppy, but how else will she learn?

“I suppose another clan will take them,” Merrill says, blinking rapidly. “Oh dear. I was never much of a teacher anyway. I should have asked Imladris Ashallin--but she can get so nasty.”

“She was nice enough to me,” Anders shrugs. “Mostly ignored me, to be honest. Spent a lot of time in the woods. Her husband was a lot of fun, though.”

“Ah, Mahanon, he’s the heart and soul,” Merrill smiles. “Good singer, too. Both of them are so intense though, no wonder you all got along. How was it with Fenris? When Hawke found out you were both gone, they were furious. They wanted to go with you. Varric had to talk them down out of tracking you down. Said they’d do more good telling Bran to leave the investigation off than going on the run.”

He smiles. Messere-Pounce-the-Second bats at his face with a paw and purrs insistently. He wants to be fed. Anders thinks about Fenris, the hungry kiss in the kitchen, the cool night in the orchard, and waking up to him throwing the covers off the bed--their bed, for two nights. “It was fine,” he says to the floor, putting the cat down. “Where did you put the food? What have you been feeding him?” He would sing his love to the Golden City and back, but he has to find the words and the rhythm first.

Merrill looks at him oddly. “You’re happy.”

Kirkwall in autumn is a riot of color and gloom, sea salt and rot coming off the docks, and its people taste of the tomb. Still the sun burns them clean. Anders considers the street scene outside the window before answering. There is still daylight, that perfect gold that illuminates even Darktown for an hour before twilight.

“Yes,” he says. His heart feels full, he can’t even snap at her to leave him alone. Merrill leaves anyway, eying him as she goes, and Anders stands in the middle of the bustle of the clinic and enjoys being home. Lirene is ladling out the evening meal. There are less people gathered than last month, since the dockworkers had gotten a raise. Their faces look less pinched. Perhaps it is the sun pooling in the pit of his stomach, keeping him buoyant, but Anders sees hope there too. He gets to work, chatting with his neighbors, hearing about the little ailments, the fears about the leftover Qunari (who still needed a meal, he’d have to ask Fenris to come with him and invite them over), someone was setting up a school in the alienage but the Ferelden children were invited too. 

Night falls and most people clear out, and Anders checks on his chronic patients. Samson always has a bed with him, after everything he has done for Kirkwall’s Circle and the Tranquil in particular, and he is struggling with withdrawal. Anders suspects he steals his lyrium, but he would rather him dose safely than risk an impure strain in the sewers. Reduce harm, he thinks: you can’t take it away entirely, but you can wear away at it. He keeps an eye on him while he makes his rounds.

He is taking inventory of what Athenril left--there is a story in this gift, he suspects, that he’ll never know--when Lirene comes in.

“That elf’s at the door again,” she says. “The grumpy one. You want me to turn him away? I’m going to head out for the night.”

His heart stops, and he can’t help a broad grin from spreading across his face. He wasn’t expecting him to come by, Fenris had told him tomorrow, has he missed him that much? Lirene smiles at the sight of him. She’s glad he’s glad, and Anders is elated. “Fenris?” he says. “Oh no, he’s alright. I’ll get him, you have a great night.”

“More than alright, I’d say,” Lirene murmurs, and she grabs her cloak and dagger and leaves quickly. Anders heads back out to the main room. Samson has fallen asleep in the chair in front of the fire, Maddox standing next to him patiently like Andraste’s mabari himself. Oh, Maker: fuck Meredith for ripping him away from himself, his friend, his lover.

“Maddox, you can sit if you want,” Anders says. Tranquil don’t have wants. It is worth a try anyway. Karl managed to break free briefly, that one time. Maybe this would help.

“I am fine,” Maddox says tonelessly. “The fire is acceptable and I do not tire.” He deserves more than that, more than dry bread and a warm fire. He deserves a bed of roses and his lover back, he deserves Samson whole and they both should have gotten a full life, a reliable home, not just a dry spot by the fire in a renegade mage’s clinic where at any moment this could all be shut down. They deserve more. They deserve the world.

He hears a cough, and looks to the door. Fenris is standing awkwardly at the threshold. He has changed back to his usual light armor. He’s cut his hair, too, shaved at the sides and short on top. He looks sharper and older and clearer. Anders loves it. He wants to run his fingers through it.

Fenris says, “I had some unexpected free time and thought you may want some company.” He looks bashful. Anders draws closer, caresses the edge of his jaw. Fenris closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“I like the hair,” Anders murmurs. He thinks wildly, suddenly: but I haven’t shaved since we left Kirkwall. Before he has time to fret Fenris kisses him, and he sighs as Fenris rakes his nails up his back. Maddox and Samson are behind him, he does not want to think about them. Would Fenris take care of him like Samson takes care of Maddox, or would he leave him like a dog in the streets, like so many have left their broken mage partners? The abandoned mabari take care of them, though, and Samson and some of the others do too. He wouldn’t be left entirely bereft.

“What’s the matter?” Fenris says sharply. “You’re not--you’re thinking about something else.”

Anders holds him closer. “Tranquility,” he says. “Common punishment for mages who have lovers outside the Circle. Inside the Circle they just transfer you, if you’re lucky. I’m just…” He exhales, then burrows his nose in Fenris’ hair. “Brooding. Angry. Afraid. Like I always am. Just--let’s stay like this a moment.” A moment may be all he has. Eventually he can make himself let go. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight.” He tries to remember what he had been doing--taking stock, planning out poultices for the next week, he needs to draw up a kitchen rotation and see what cash Lirene has left, if he has enough to go to the market or if he’ll need to take Hawke with him.

“Are you busy?”

There is always work that needs doing, because if he does not do it, no one will. That is one thing Justice has taught him. If you see something that needs doing, do it, there’s no excuses. Feeling tired already, Anders smiles and says, “I can make time for you.”

They go for a walk, hand in hand, out to the wharves. The lanterns are lit and swinging in the careless breeze. Anders drinks it in. The trees are losing their leaves, but still they shine in the fairy-light. It is cool but not yet cold. Kirkwall is more temperate than Ferelden, and so much less harsh than the Anderfels. Half the city is out and about, everyone has their doors thrown open and there is a card game, a party, a fight at every corner. He waves at his neighbors--Lirene has Thrask of all people on her arm, as they sit outside her house with a few tankards. She toasts them as they walk by. Sketch, an apostate friend from the Mages’ Collective, rushes into them, slipping a piece of paper into his pocket as he goes. No one is chasing him. Sketch is always like that. Fenris looks at him curiously, but Anders shakes his head. He is not sure how much he wants him to know.

They make it to the wharves and it is a shock how clean it all is. He remembers the blood staining the cobbles, Kirkwall’s eternal rain. Fenris’ fingers tighten their grasp. Anders looks down and notices the grotting between the stones is clean. Someone spent time scrubbing the battle away. Two people dead, a few maimed, most recovering from their injuries, to fight another day, because there would be another battle, another day. But they won this one, and they will win the next. Kirkwall had wrested itself from its chains. One day the mages will do the same, and he will live to do it.

Justice walks the streets of Kirkwall, hand-in-hand. Fenris stops at the edge of the docks and they sit down, staring out at the bay. Behind them are those awful Tevinter statues, howling in despair. Before them the usual moon glimmers on the water, the second Satinalia moon starting to glimmer. Anders can feel the Veil trembling on his skin. He leans against Fenris. Fenris puts his arm around his waist.

“I am thinking,” Fenris murmurs, “of all my ancestors who must have died here.” Cheery: but Anders is just as morbid. “How many of them looked on this, and prayed to gods who would not answer to save them. To let them leave. And now I am here. And I am choosing to stay.”

The wind ruffles the feathers sewn into Ander’s shawl. He shivers, and Fenris draws him closer. Justice presses behind his eyes, drawn to the surface as they see the procession of those that made them. A ship creaks, moored for the winter, and they know it groans with the memory of so many families, lost. Anders thinks of the mages locked in the Gallows, restless as the Satinalia moon stirs the spirits up, and sighs.

“You take my breath away,” Fenris says suddenly. “I am not good with my words. This is new to me. This is all so new to me. But--you are breath-taking. Your commitment. How much you care. How much it hurts you, and how you persevere. And I like the beard.”

Anders wonders if it would be too much to just push him onto his back and take him there, or let him take him, whatever Fenris preferred, but Fenris made it clear he needed to pace himself, and besides, knowing his luck, Isabela would amble by, or fucking Cullen, one of those blond templar oafs. He kisses him instead, fiercely, intent on making him breathless. He gets a bit carried away, dragging him on top of him, worn planks digging into  his back, but Fenris is laughing, and he draws back, sheepish, saying, “Too much?”

But Fenris says, “Just enough, mage. You’re enough.”