#one i wanted to see out of the list they had. and we were meant to watch it back in september but another one of our friends couldn't join

[grandline-fics]

Hey, can I get op boys>reaction to a child or anybody else hugging you,the way momonosuke hugged nami. It's okay if you don't want to do it.

DESCRIPTION: Their reaction to a child stealing your attention and affection

WARNINGS: slight insecurities/jealousy I guess but nothing serious

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Luffy

WORDS: 1,564

A/N: Hey there and thank you for sending in this request. I had a lot of fun thinking of how to make this scenario work and decided to just stick with two characters this time. If you want to request any other characters, please do. I hope this was to your liking 😊

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

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SHANKS

It was a sure bet that everyone would naturally go to Shanks. It was a given that he was the most popular member of the crew. He was the Captain after all and any island you stopped at, he just had a way about him that charmed practically everyone in the vicinity. Ordinarily that was the case. Today it was almost the same, apart from one exception to the norm. You had an admirer and Shanks never had a problem with that because you always let them down kindly but firmly, only having eyes for him. This though? This was uncharted territory. You were staring at your clingy admirer with the warmest smile and his eyes narrowed. This was war. 

Abruptly Ben nudged his shoulder and he looked as his right-hand man and closest friend pulled up the stool beside him. Shanks scoffed at Beckman’s unbridled amusement at his Captain’s sulking and very clear displeasure at what he was witnessing. From across the room your laughter drifted up and Shanks’s gaze snapped immediately to you, his glare sharpening. Nothing could be that funny, not without him. “Cap…relax. They’re-”

“A snake. They know exactly what they’re doing.” Shanks muttered, lifting his drink to his mouth as he glared at the snake in question, stealing you from him.

“They’re one, Shanks.” Beck reminded his Captain with his grin broadening. “You aren’t getting insecure because of a baby are you?”

“This food better be worth it.” Shanks grumbled. Stopping here was only because everyone was hungry and wanted to eat and drink together before separating to begin gathering supplies for the next leg of the stretch at sea. When you all entered you were met with a friendly but very stressed woman, trying to manage serving customers while also looking after her son. Her son in question stared with wide eyes at the arrival of the Red Haired Pirates, shy but curious. Then his gaze fell to you and he squirmed in his mother’s hold while stretching to get to you, immediately besotted. 

You had no issue with helping keep the baby entertained since it helped his mother out and meant you could all still get something to eat and drink. As you held the baby close you couldn’t help but smile when the little boy let out a long yawn, using his fist to rub at his eyes. Finally you took a seat on the other side of Shanks and settled in the hopes he’d fall asleep. You finally broke your gaze away from the adorable little face to look at Shanks and Benn. “Isn’t he cute?”

“Yeah, adorable.” Shanks forced out, eyeing his tiny rival with a scowl. “Why don’t you let me take over?”

“I don’t mind, plus he’s falling asleep I don’t want to unsettle him.” You smiled, watching Shanks as he reached his hand out. The baby in your arms, half-asleep eyed Shanks with equal disdain. With an incoherent but very obvious noise of rejection, the baby’s fists latched tightly into your shirt and he nuzzled his head into your chest. “See? He’s comfy.”

Shanks knew better than anyone how comfy it was to lie against you and be wrapped in your arms. His eyes narrowed when the baby threw him one last look- pure smugness, Shanks saw-before he closed his eyes and feel asleep. Seeing the baby drift off and still maintain his vicelike grip on your close made you all but melt. “Shanks, how long are we staying on this island for?”

“We’re leaving as soon as the ship is restocked.” 

“So soon?” You asked in surprise. Ordinarily you all stayed to relax and interact with the locals. Even short stops on islands would be a few days. It had been a long time since Shanks had made a decision like this. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah just really itching to get back to sea is all. We can’t laze around when we’ve got treasures to find and adventures to have.” You arched an eyebrow at Shanks’ explanation. When he turned his head to grab his drink you looked over his shoulder to throw a questioning look to Beck. Subtly the man dropped his gaze to the baby in your arms and mouthed ‘jealous’ making you grin.

Rolling your eyes at how the most laidback man in the world you decided to fall in love with could be so ridiculous at times. Shifting your chair closer you lay your back against his side and reached up to press a soft peck against his cheek. “Love you, you big baby.”

“Love you too.” Shanks grinned down at you, wrapping his arm around you to hold you closer. “Make sure to say that again though when the little brat wakes up. He needs to know I’m the winner.” 

LUFFY

“Hey you little brat let go of them!”

“Make me!”

“I. Said. Let. Go.”

“Nuh-uh! You’re not the boss of me. Just go away and leave us alone, stupid hat!”

“Stupid hat?!” Luffy repeated with an angry glare, looking to you sharply with wide eyes, silently checking if you heard the added insult to him. It was nearly as bad as the fact some little kid was clinging to you happily with their arms tightly around your neck with no sign of letting go. You could only shrug and smile, it was just a little kid. You’d been the one to save them from an attacking enemy so of course they would be more attached to you than any of the others on the crew. The boy was harmless but Luffy was acting like he was top of the list of people he wanted to beat on his quest to be King of the Pirates. “Say it again brat! I dare you!”

“Stuuuupid haaaat!” The little kid leant further in to Luffy’s face, stretching out the insult with a taunting grin and defiance in his eyes that would have been something Luffy would have respected had it been directed at anyone else. Satisfied, the little boy relaxed back against you and stuck his tongue out at your seething Captain and boyfriend. Luffy snarled and grabbed the child’s ankle, ready to pull them off of you. The boy only let out an overly dramatic squeal and tucked their head under your chin. “No!! Stop him! He’s scaring me!”

“Luffy, c’mon be nice. Please?” You asked settling your hand soothingly over Luffy’s hand to make him stop immediately. This was meant to be a party to celebrate another victory for the crew and for some reason Luffy was getting confrontational with a child instead of enjoying himself and eating all the food on offer. “They’re only doing it because they know it’s annoying you.”

“But-”

“I know, I know.” You spoke softly, lifting your hand from his to affectionately run your fingers along the rim of his hat. “I love your hat, it’s not stupid to me.”

“It’s only stupid because he’s wearing it.” The little boy muttered sourly, turning his head to glare at the fact you were giving Luffy a compliment. “It’d look great on you though.”

“Awww thank you.” You smiled, relieved that they hadn’t been too scared by Luffy. It was no wonder he was acting up, after finally being free from the group of pirates terrorising his home he was finally getting to act like a child again and not have to worry about living in fear from you or the rest of the crew. “I think you’d look cool with a hat like Luffy’s too.”

“He can keep his hat.” You held back your initial urge to laugh but still you grinned when his arms tightened around your neck. “He gets his hat, and I get you!”

“Wh- WHAT?!“ Luffy shouted, the calm you’d managed to evoke with him disappearing faster than the food in the fridge when Sanji’s back was turned. “You can’t have them, they’re mine!”

Once again the shouting picked up and you were stuck between the two, listening to the fight and bicker over you with vicious possessiveness. You were jostled when the little boy moved to perch himself on your back, shouting over your shoulder as Luffy’s arms wrapped around your body so he could get into  the kid’s face as they argued back and forth about who you were going to stay with, not that either of them thought to ask your opinion on that fact. Having no choice you were helpless and just had to stand there as these two equally persistent energies until finally they both tired themselves out and in unison they fell asleep, slumping over but keeping their grips on you as tight as ever. Sighing you managed to drag yourself over to an empty seat and awkwardly sit down despite the hinderances having two people clinging to you brought. 

Eventually the boy’s mother came across your predicament and managed to lift her son off of you, leaving you to just have Luffy hold you possessively but that was something you were used to at night. Alone you smiled at your boyfriend. Yes it was childish of him to take the little boy’s infatuation with you seriously but it was reassuring that if he fought for you this fiercely then it meant you really had nothing to fear if anyone else came sniffing around you. 

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[milliesfishes]

Heyyy Millie!

Can we get a coryio as a boy dad fic?

Bc I looooved the girl dad ones smmm

<33

But don’t write it if you are too busy :)

I hope you have a wonderful dayyyy

this took an angsty turn hehe <3 ౨ৎ꣑ৎhaving a baby boy with coriolanus౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

Not a single inch of Coriolanus' body was in motion. The blur of the air was thick, choking him from the inside out. For a second, his mind lapsed, and he wasn't sure if he was real.

Then it all came back at once. The shriek of a new life, the mutter of the doctors pushing him out of the way and attending to you, unmoving on the bed. There was a mess of crimson between your limply spread legs, and the color he'd loved so much on you before suddenly had him feeling faint.

He couldn't take his eyes off your face. You were pale as a sheet, looking almost like a stranger even though he could map out every detail of your face without looking. A nurse had the sense to guide him away, placing something wrapped in blankets in his arms, which suddenly became stiff enough to hold it.

"Here," she said softly. "Just sit with him for a minute. It'll be okay."

Coriolanus barely registered what she said, wearily looking down. The face of a squirming baby greeted him, and it hit him all at once. His son. He was a father.

The future was stretched out in front of him, only one sure thing in it. He hated that it wasn't you.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there outside the door, blankly holding his newborn. In Coriolanus' life, there had been very few things that he knew were certain, but he'd thought you being here was one. His success had made him sloppy, his money, reckless. Now you were on death's doorstep because he'd become greedy, wanting more and more of you until it killed you. Had his mother's death taught him nothing? Another mouth to feed wasn't worth losing you.

Mulling it over, the last thing he wanted was to be holding the product of his failure. He looked around desperately, but nobody was in sight. The baby in his arms was still wriggling, cries softening.

The same nurse came out to tell him. It was a close call, but you were stable. You were okay. The relief that poured over his heart lifted some of the weight from his shoulders, and everything he'd considered while imagining a life without you evaporated into thin air.

Passing the baby off to the nurse, he went in to see you straightaway, ignoring the doctor's mention that you wouldn't be conscious for awhile. He needed to see you breathing, receive confirmation that you were alive and you would stay that way.

Time meant nothing when he was at your side. He watched you sleep, stayed at your side while the nurses changed the sheets and produced a fresh nightdress for you. The doctor left behind a list of instructions, and Coriolanus assured him that he'd call if there were any further problems.

He was right there when you woke, blinking sleepily and wincing at the leftover ache of childbirth. You looked around confusedly, and he reached for your hand, squeezing it lightly. "Darling."

"The baby," you muttered, trying to sit up.

Gently, he reached out his arm, guiding you to lay down again. "Easy. He's fine." Coriolanus moved closer, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

You winced as you shifted, eyes widening in joy. "He? We have a baby boy?"

"Yes," he said, frowning as he studied you. "Where does it hurt, sweetheart?"

"I want to see him," you said softly, looking up into his eyes. "I want to see our son."

"Later," he promised, getting up to sit on the side of the bed, fluffing your pillows and using a guiding hand to rest your head there again. "You need to rest."

"Coryo." He paused, reluctantly meeting your gaze again. "I've been resting for the past month. I want to see him."

Looking at you, worn out from birth and pleading with him, he who should be giving you whatever you wanted, there was no way he could deny this request. You deserved to see what you'd nearly lost your life to have.

So, with a sigh, he went to the nursery, where the baby was being supervised by the nurse he'd hired. You'd said it was unnecessary, having wanted to do all of the work yourself, but now he was glad he'd insisted.

Bringing the baby back, Coriolanus deposited him carefully into your arms, watching your eyes light up. Swaying back and forth, you hummed softly, smiling when your baby boy made a happy little noise.

"He's so beautiful," you whispered, tracing a finger down his little face. "Oh..." Finally, you looked up at him again, nearly glowing. "He looks just like you, Coryo."

Nodding, Coriolanus forced a smile, itching to whisk the baby back to the nursery so he could care for you properly. "Sweetheart, it's time for you to rest."

Your brow furrowed when he reached for the bundle in your arms. "He can stay."

Coriolanus breathed out through his nose, biting the inside of his cheek. "The doctor said you need to sleep uninterrupted, darling. You can spend as much time as you want with the baby tomorrow."

Reluctantly, you surrendered at the mention of doctor's orders. When he returned from the nursery again, you were sleepy, trying to keep your eyes open as you rested your head on your pillow.

Stripping himself down for bed, Coriolanus carefully positioned himself under the covers with you, stroking your shoulder when you curled into him, coming to attention when you winced. "What hurts?"

"I'm just a little sore," you managed, sighing when he set a heavy hand on your back, rubbing each tender spot. "I'm okay."

"Shh," he soothed, guiding your head to lay on his chest. "We'll get you some more medicine after you sleep."

He managed to work you into rest, draping you over his chest and thanking deities when you stayed that way. In the morning, he woke before you, using the breathy moments of the early hours to watch you, assure himself that his love was alive and well.

The very second you awoke, you were asking about the baby, pleading with Coriolanus to bring the cradle closer to you. He bent, staying at your side while you held your son, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

His name had been chosen months ago, though neither of you had known the gender. Martius. A good, strong name, you'd both decided. You were whispering it as you held him to your chest, kissing his forehead and rocking him back and forth.

It was sweet. He never could have foreseen how much more he would love you as a mother. With the child you'd carried and nurtured that hadn't been real to him until this moment. Coriolanus found himself winding his arm around you, suddenly wanting to hold you. He forced himself to look down at Martius, stunned to his core once again. You were right. He was the spitting image of Coriolanus. Except for his eyes. The color right now was similar to his own, but the shape was so precisely you.

He kissed the side of your head, every touch still careful. You'd had your medicine, but he wasn't sure if you were still hurting. You leaned back against the pillows, smiling when he pulled the blanket up over your legs. "I'm okay, you know?"

"Yes," he lied, your screaming still echoing between his ears. Trying not to shiver, he smoothed a hand up and down your arm.

It was quiet for a moment, and then you looked up, brow furrowing as you did. "Have you held him yet?"

"I did," he said, leaving out the circumstances. "Do you need a break? I can put him back in the cradle-"

"No," you assured, shaking your head. "I just...you haven't asked to."

"It's fine, sweetheart," Coriolanus promised. "You wanted to hold him."

"But I want you to hold him," you said, sitting up and moving to give him the baby. He shook his head, and you frowned, searching his eyes. "What's the matter?"

The way you were looking at him made him feel like you already knew. Still, he tried to maintain the mask that had never worked once with you. "Everything's fine, I promise."

"Coryo." He almost melted. Your eyes were wide, and he felt as though he could fall headfirst into them. If Martius' eyes ended up being the same color as yours, he was in for it.

His shoulders slumped. He kept his eyes on your shoulder. "When they made me leave the room, they gave him to me."

"Oh," you said softly. He dared to look at your face. You reached out, squeezing his wrist, and he wanted to hide in your shelter. "Coryo." The repetition of his name was softened now. "I'm here. I'm okay."

"You were dying," he countered, shaking his head. "It was my fault. And he..." It was something he could never admit out loud. But you knew instantly, your grip on his wrist moving to his cheek. He leaned into your touch, letting the mask slip down.

"This is not your fault." You were looking into his eyes, shaking your head just slightly. "Coryo he's perfect. I would do it all over again."

"I couldn't lose you," he breathed, reaching both hands up to hold your face. His thumbs found your cheeks, moving up and down. "Sweetheart I couldn't do it again."

You breathed out, quieting for just a moment. Then you shifted Martius in your arms. "I want you to hold him, Coriolanus. Please."

There wasn't any way he could have said no. Not when he'd let this piece of himself slip, revealing a memory he knew he was ashamed of. The wound of almost losing you was fresh, and he'd tried to cover it before you could see.

He silently held out his arms, and you slid Martius into them. Coriolanus was surprised to find his arms knew exactly what to do. For a moment he was worried the baby would cry, but he only cooed, shifting comfortably against him.

It was like a sunrise. At first a flicker, and then a light rising from within. It was real to him in this moment, in the quiet of the room with his healing wife there next to him. You were beaming, cheek to his shoulder as you watched Martius settle. It was as if you were feeling it with him. Your hand was on his elbow by your son's head, and you reached up to kiss his cheek.

There was something constricting his throat as he stared down at his little boy. He tried to find his words again. "I..." Was it an apology on his lips? A declaration, maybe. But of what? Never in his life had he been at such a loss.

You hummed softly, snuggling against his side. "I know." Pressing your lips to his shoulder, you rubbed your fingers over his arm. "I know."

[bajibitch]

Silly me - Clark Kent

"Your name?" The receptionist’ voice pulled you out of the shock you felt being at the infamous Daily Planet. You managed to say your name but it came out a bit shaky and he let out a soft chuckle. "You'll fit in great." The space you'd be working in was small like you expected but seeing the surrounding work spaces was a bit intimidating. It was easy to get distracted picking up pieces of the stories they chatted about but the dizziness that came with it was enough to remind you to focus. Where would you start, how was it that people found stories again?

“First day?” Looking up from your desk, you met a pair of enchanting blue eyes on a beautiful face. The smile he wore didn’t make it any easier to turn away. Your face was hot from the lack of preparedness, hopefully, he didn’t think you were forming a crush, it’d be embarrassing, he’d be right but you wouldn’t admit it.

“Is it obvious?” You thought you were playing it off well given that you managed to type out an exaggerated amount of the food article with little effort. “What am I doing wrong?” Surely an employee wouldn’t interrupt your work for nothing, or so you thought.

“Nothing, you seem to have it handled.” He eyed the screen with your nearly complete work. “I’m still cramming in yesterday's story.” His laugh was going to be in your mind later. Although it was short it managed to sound so wholesome and warming in the small time it had. “It’s just, I've never seen you around before.” His arm was resting on the computer monitor, if he was anyone else it would’ve irked you but he had good intentions so you’d ignore it for now.

“I started today, used to work at a different company in Oklahoma.“

“How was it there?” You considered offering him a chair to sit in since it felt as if he planned on hearing your life story.

“Given that it was my first job in journalism it’ll always have a special place in my heart, but I wanted to be somewhere more interesting.”

“You didn’t catch any stories?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I did an article on food and the impacts of-” Nothing worth mentioning but I’ll list every one. You put a hand to your forehead as you cursed yourself for not catching the prattling sooner.

“Why’d you stop?” He took a glance around the office and stared back at you. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you sighed and went back to typing out your work. “I just have to finish this.”

“I’ll be out your hair then. It was nice meeting you… I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

“Clark. Clark Kent.” You stopped your typing and locked eyes with him once again.

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I’ll catch you later.”

The strange thing for you is that usually when people tell you that, they never meant it. It was more like an, I’ll see you should we meet again kinda ordeal, not a follow you out of the office kinda thing.

“What is it, Clark?” You turned to see him not too far behind. His suit seemed a tad too big for him but it added a soft look to him.

“Just checking in on you. How’d you feel about the job? It’s not too much is it?”

“You aren’t from here either, are you?” He tilted his head and his lips parted but nothing came out. “You’re nicer than plenty of the people I’ve met so far. Some of them get irritated from my smile alone.” That’s why you learned to hold a poker face, the city lost its charm rather quickly when you arrived. His shoulders dropped and his lips had its default curve that made him sweet on the eyes.

“I used to live out in the country too, but as much as they tried, they could never break my smile.” Oh, you had to admit by now that he was hard to hate, not that you ever did. His spirit was almost contagious, the smile on your face showing he already infected you, maybe a harmless work crush wouldn’t be bad after all.

“Ready to go?” The both of you turned to the woman who needed no introduction, her work spoke for itself, she was a bit of a celebrity herself. You were shocked to see him kiss her with no hesitation and looked away from the affection. It was clear he had no qualms with showing his love.

“See you, tomorrow.” Fuck my life. When you buckled yourself into the seat and began to drive away, you couldn’t help laughing at how naïve you were to think he wouldn’t be in a relationship.

[feybarn]

Surprise snippet! @mercyghost I'm actually doing another prompt from your list. Obi-Wan and Quinlan stargazing as padawans. (Though only Obi-Wan is a padawan in this one. And... uh, stargazing is kind of ineffective on Coruscant, so that's somewhat debatable.)

“You know, if we wanted to see stars, we’d have been better off going to the holo-map room,” Obi-Wan commented, staring up at the dark gray sky above them. He and Quinlan were laying on the roof of the Temple, supposedly star gazing. But between the pollution of Coruscant, and the bright lights around them, stars felt more like a theory than something a person actually saw.

Quinlan snorted. “Yeah, because the holo-map room is know for its privacy.”

That was a fair point. And it was not as though either of their quarters were really an option for privacy. Knighted and without his own padawan, Quinlan shared his quarters with two other Knights, and Obi-Wan, of course, still shared quarters with Master Qui-Gon.

“I’m not having sex on a Temple spire,” Obi-Wan warned.

Quinlan let out a sharp laugh, and Obi-Wan tilted his head to catch the way Quinlan’s eyes lit up. They always did when he laughed like that and Obi-Wan never stopped finding Quinlan beautiful that way.

“Force, Obi-Wan. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who would absolutely have sex on one of the Temple spires.” Obviously.

Quinlan opened his mouth to deny it, then shut it, shrugging. “All right, so in the right circumstances. But that’s not what I wanted privacy for.”

Quinlan shifted so that he was on his side, facing Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan copied the move. The roof was uncomfortable beneath them, only somewhat alleviated by the blanket that Quinlan had brought from his quarters that lay beneath them.

They rarely had time together, these days. Obi-Wan was out on missions with Qui-Gon constantly. Quinlan had his own missions, now, as a solo knight. Quinlan would actually be leaving for Tatooine by the end of the week and Qui-Gon would likely have a mission for him and Obi-Wan within the same time frame.

But they still had moments like this.

“You’ll be knighted soon,” Quinlan commented, breaking Obi-Wan out of his thoughts.

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan corrected. They’d thought the same thing last year, and the year before that. But Obi-Wan was still a padawan. It bothered him, sometimes, but Qui-Gon had yet to even mention the possibility of Obi-Wan reaching his Knight Trials.

Xanatos had taken his when he was 18, Obi-Wan remembered. He couldn’t help but wonder if the reason he wasn’t Knighted yet was because Qui-Gon was so intent on treating Obi-Wan the exact opposite that he had his previous padawan.

“You’ll be knighted soon,” Quinlan repeated. “I want to go to the Council and give an official declaration of our pair bond before then.”

Obi-Wan paused, surprised by the words. “Quin?”

“And then I want us to train Aayla together.”

They’d talked about this sort of thing before, but it had always been more in the hypothetical than an outright plan.

“You want to go in front of the council?” Obi-Wan asked quietly. Because that meant this was serious.

Quinlan met his gaze, eyes fierce. “Yes.”

It wasn’t that Obi-Wan didn’t want it. He’d always felt a… certainty when it came to Quinlan. Had since almost the first time he’d met Quinlan, two years older than him, new to the temple, and suspicious of everyone around him. At first, it had simply been a certainty that they would be friends. The Stark Hyperspace had thrown that bond into the light in a way neither of them had expected. Tholme had been the one to identify the pair bond between them.

Pair bonds weren’t unknown at that age, but they were… unusual. Most pair bonds came as the result of years working together and careful intent.

Obi-Wan knew that those years and intent would come, would strengthen the bond they already shared. But the bond they had now was no less real for how unusual it was.

Still, a pair bond did not demand anything. Obi-Wan and Quinlan still had to choose whether this was a path they wanted. And… and Obi-Wan did. He wanted to walk this path with Quinlan.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go to the Council.”

Qui-Gon might not like it. But… well, Obi-Wan had to trust in the Force. The Force had given him and Quinlan each other; that meant something. More than that, he had to trust in himself and in Quinlan. And he did.

This felt right.

Quinlan let out a breath of relief. “Good,” he said. He let out a laugh. “I kind of expected it to be harder to convince you,” he admitted. “I had my arguments and reasons all prepared. I even practiced on Tholme.”

Obi-Wan laughed, picturing Thelma’s quiet exasperation but genuine patience. “Should I be a bit more difficult? I’d hate to think Tholme suffered through your dramatics for no reason.”

Quinlan nudged at him, elbow digging into his side not-so-gently. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “You already agreed with me. No taking that back.”

A smile tugged at Obi-Wan’s lips. “All right,” he agreed. “I’ll just have to ask Tholme about it. I’m sure he’ll have the best details.”

“I’m not going to be living this one down,” Quinlan groaned, but he sounded too happy to really sound annoyed.

No, Quinlan really wouldn’t. Tholme enjoyed giving Quinlan a hard time far too much to let it go. Probably payback for Quinlan’s teenage years. But that just meant that Obi-Wan always had a partner in ganging up on Quinlan when necessary.

“I’ll be nice about it,” Obi-Wan lied.

“No, you won’t,” Quinlan grumped.

Obi-Wan shifted to press closer to Quinlan, absorbing his warmth. It wasn’t necessarily cold up here—though it wasn’t exactly warm, either—but Quinlan’s warmth was still comforting. He looked up at the sky. The stars were no more visible now than they’d been before, but for a moment Obi-Wan still felt closer to the universe than ever.

Perhaps it was because now he knew he’d never have to traverse the galaxy alone.

He and Quinlan would walk their path together.

“Tomorrow,” Obi-Wan said. “I want to tell them tomorrow.” He turned to Quinlan. “Master Qui-Gon is meeting with Chancellor Vallorum tomorrow, something about a favor. We can go to the Council, then. Before your mission to Tatooine and wherever I end up.”

Quinlan smiled, bright and warm. “Tomorrow. Not gonna let you get away from me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” A hint of mischief appeared in his smile. “What are the chances that we’re going to give Master Windu a headache?”

…probably pretty high, honestly. Whether it was a shatter point or their shenanigans was an even toss up. Master Windu had been exasperated by their shenanigans from the very beginning. He had also stopped and looked at Obi-Wan more than once before shaking his head and muttering about shatter points. When Tholme had told the Council about their pair bond in the immediate aftermath of the Stark Hyperspace War, Master Windu had literally groaned and buried his head in his hands. It made it all seem mildly alarming, honestly, but Obi-Wan didn’t let it bother him. The Force would guide them.

It already had. It had brought them together.

[skimmingmilk]

In Sharing Is Caring But We Never Learned How, I really loved how you wrote Vector Espio and Charmy. Even though they weren't the focus of the fic I wanted to ask if you had any ideas about them and their dynamic!

You know, I was wondering if anyone was curious about them! I'm so happy you asked! :D

I like to imagine that Vector and Espio met while they were both in the foster care system. They're so young to be running a business and raising a small child, I figure it makes sense that they felt like they were on their own pretty early on. They ended up in the same residential treatment program when Vector was about 16 and Espio was 12 and hit it off surprisingly well, to the point that when Vector aged out of the system two years later, he took Espio with him (I need to amend Espio's age in Sharing is Caring btw, I meant to make him 15 since his ages have mostly skewed older than Sonic over the years, but I totally forgot since I wrote that note like two years ago xD).

Even though Vector's older, and technically the one responsible over both Espio and Charmy, he treats Espio as more of a partner with equal footing in terms of responsibilities, rather than as a son or younger brother. Espio definitely doesn't see Vector as any sort of authority figure beyond potential "boss" and that's mostly because he's more front-facing with clients and handles the finances, lol. And also Espio can’t legally be listed on any of the business' official paperwork until he’s 16 xD They do consider one another family, but since they weren't really raised from childhood together, their bond is hard for them to describe. It's why Vector's so keen to just call Espio and Charmy "his boys." It encompasses everything anyone needs to know about them both, lol. They're his boys!

Now Charmy is absolutely Vector's son xD Espio is usually more of an older brother figure to Charmy, but there are times where he's also better at disciplining Charmy than Vector is, lol. Of course, Espio will often take the “I told you so” route whenever Vector fails to rein Charmy in instead of actually helping. But there are times – moreso when they’re older – that Espio feels somewhat of a parental responsibility for Charmy. The lines of their little family unit are exceptionally blurred, but they don't really care. It works for them!

Espio is stern, but overall more patient with Charmy, while Vector tries to play "good cop" to Espio's "bad cop," but will lose his temper a lot quicker, leading to physical hijinks like grabbing at Charmy or sitting on him, but Charmy just thinks of it as a game. Pushing Vector and Espio’s buttons, to see how much he can get away with, is all part of the fun! Especially because he knows Vector is actually a huge softy at heart and would let Charmy get away with murder no matter how much he annoys him xD Overall, Charmy sees Vector as more of his dad than he does Espio, but he looks up to them both and will imitate certain traits of theirs that he admires. Usually it’s Vector’s business-savvy (or lack thereof, lol) and Espio’s ninja skills.

I want Vector and Espio to have met Charmy while on their first official case, I’m just not sure what that looks like just yet. But they found him when he was very young – only a year or two old – and couldn’t just leave the little guy on his own. Since Vector would’ve already been a licensed foster parent to have Espio with him, he’d be all set to take Charmy in, too.

There’s still more to their background and dynamic that I haven’t fully explored yet, but that’s the basis of what I have for them so far! Thanks for asking!

[lottiesnotebook]

Happy DADWC day!

Ok so this is weirdly specific, but feel free to be open in the interpretation. So I want more Cara, because of course I do 😅 and I saw this prompt in one of your lists : your OC’s description of their game’s events.

But I'd like to alter that slightly... So you said she was born after an ill-advised post deep roads encounter (I forget your exact words) so... Therefore she saw a lot of the DA2 narrative... As a kid... So I would like to see her interpretation of any of the DA2 events 😝

Ask for more Cara Hawke-Laidir and you shall receive! I don't know if this counts as exactly what you asked for, but the end of Dragon Age 2 is possibly the most formative moment in her whole life (pre-Veilguard, at least) so this is what you get! Apologies in advance, this turned out WAY longer than I expected...

Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Orana, Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Anders, Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Rhiannon Hawke, Justice/Rhiannon Hawke/Anders (mentioned), angst, tragedy, canonical terrorism

@teine-mallaichte | @dadrunkwriting

when hell bares its teeth

Cara was curled up in her favourite window-seat when the world ended. She felt the explosion rather than heard it - a low reverberation that shook the house to its foundations and cracked the panes of the window she was snuggled against. She flinched away from it in shock and rolled onto her knees, peering out through the broken panes, her book cradled against her chest. The street outside was empty, peaceful, even - but as she glanced up, she could see the climbing column of smoke cutting the bright blue sky in two.

"Orana?" she called out, her voice trembling. There was no immediate reply. She forced herself to her feet. Orana was the grown-up, and on days when her parents were busy, she was in charge, but Orana got scared, sometimes, when people shouted or magic flared, and then Cara was meant to leave her alone or make sure she was safe and comfortable.

She took the stairs down to the kitchen two at a time, where she found more broken glass and embers knocked from the fireplace scattering the stone floor.

"Orana!" she tried again, fingers beginning to flicker in the familiar pattern of a seeking spell. A soft, sobbing sound crept from under the table. Orana was down there, curled into a ball and shaking, shaking, shaking, like her father after a bad dream.

Cara tried to make her voice low and calm and commanding, like Mama's: "Orana, don't be scared. Are you hurt?"

She didn't know what to do if a grown-up was hurt, though she knew where the elfroot potions and the bandages were stored in case of emergencies. She'd figure it out. Daddy always explained what he was doing when he patched up her cuts and bruises, and she wasn't a baby to burst into tears at the sight of blood.

She felt a little like crying when Orana looked up at her, pale and glassy-eyed, but they couldn't both sit here and cry. Well, they could - they had three years ago, when the Qunari revolted, but they had kind Master Bodahn then to take care of them: he'd hurried them into the cellar and told them all stories to keep them quiet, and Cara had tried to make rabbits out of light for Sandal until Orana flinched away from them. She'd only been six, then, though. She was nine now, and practically a grownup.

"Miss- Mistress Cara!" she said, which wasn't right - Orana wasn't supposed to call anyone Master or Mistress any more, but sometimes she got scared and forgot. "I'm sorry, I'll clean up the mess-"

"We can clean it up later," she managed to say, though there was a wobble in her voice she didn't like. "Something is wrong. We should go somewhere safe."

That was the first rule when things got scary, Master Bodahn had told her - find a safe place, or safe people, and stay with them as long as you can. Safe people would be Mama and Daddy and Justice, or maybe her uncles and aunts, but none of them were here, so she and Orana would have to find a safe place, and be safe people for each other.

She took Orana's hand and slowly pulled her out from under the table. They were almost the same height now, but when she was stood up, Orana blinked and came back to herself, and squeezed Cara's hands.

"Very sensible, Carissima," she said, smiling, and Cara relaxed a little, just for a second. Then there was an urgent banging on the front door, and they both flinched.

"Cellar?" Cara suggested, and Orana nodded.

"Cellar indeed."

She leaned into the fireplace and grabbed something from the far side of the hearth, and chivvied Cara down the stairs as the sound of splintering wood shattered the air behind them.

Cara felt a chill go through her as she remembered her father's warnings: If you hear the Templars coming, you run, Cara-hase. You don't look back, and you don't stop. Who else would dare to knock down her mother's door, but the monsters that still haunted her father's dreams?

"Orana," she whispered, into the dark. "Did I ever teach you the Rabbit Game?"

The Rabbit Game was one of Daddy's inventions. They'd played it ever since she could remember, ever since she was small enough to toddle after him, clutching the hem of his robes. The rules were simple - you had to make it through the passage from the cellar to the clinic, as quick as you could, making no noise, leaving no footprints. When she'd been very small, he'd given her a handful of veilfire to light the way, but grownup girls and clever little rabbits had to play the game in the dark. Foxes and wolves could smell smoke or magic on the wind, and if they caught you, they would eat you all up.

When she was a baby, being eaten all up wasn't scary. It was being scooped up in her father's arms and tickled and kissed and fussed over until she squealed. But then she got older, and realised he wasn't trying to teach her to hide from foxes and wolves, and that there were worse things that could happen to a girl than to be eaten.

Still, as she crept along the narrow passage between cellars, Orana's hand gripped tight in hers, she pretended she was playing the Rabbit Game again, that the footsteps she could hear distantly were her father's, that the worst that would happen if they were caught was that she wouldn't be taken out to the market for sweets. Panicking wasn't how you won the Rabbit Game. If you froze, or you made too much noise, they'd catch you easy as anything.

Run, Cara-hase. She ran, as light on her feet as they'd practiced, making cushions of air beneath the soles of their shoes to catch them before they could clatter. She heard, distantly, a shout that sounded a little less muffled, and felt Orana squeeze her hand and try to muffle a sob. She tightened her grip, and kept running until she felt her outstretched hands catch on the false panel that led to the clinic. She closed her eyes, remembered her father's voice in her ear: Just above your head, there are three nails to press on. The second, then the third, then the first, got that, little rabbit?

She was taller now - they were on a level with her breastbone - and she pressed down on them until she heard the reassuring click of the door opening. She pulled Orana through and closed it softly, collapsing against it. The passage continued round a corner, and hopefully the- whoever was chasing them would follow it rather than them. She'd done it. She'd won the Rabbit Game, and they were in the clinic, and Daddy would be here and tell her everything was alright-

Orana was staring at her, and she realised she'd said her names three times, and she hadn't heard. Why hadn't she heard? She was meant to be listening, meant to be calm and grown up, but she felt suddenly small and shivery and scared.

"Cara," Orana said, crouching to take hold of her shoulders, as if she was a very little girl. "Do you know where your father is? He seems to have- stepped out, for a moment."

That didn't make sense. Mama had gone to the Gallows, she said, to make sure the mages were safe, but Daddy had said he'd be at the clinic. He was supposed to be at the clinic-

Cara's breath was quickening in her throat, and now she really wanted to cry, which was stupid, because nothing bad had actually happened, and at any minute her father would be back and would explain everything. Nothing was actually wrong. Nothing was actually wrong, because if something was actually wrong-

She could hear the sound of people rushing around outside, of crying and screams, of wood cracking, and she knew in her bones that something was Actually Wrong, which made no sense. If something were that badly wrong, Daddy would be at the clinic, making sure people had a safe place to go, that anyone who was hurt was taken care of. And yet, the clinic was empty, holding nothing but a silence more horrible than the noise outside when it should have held warmth, comfort, safety.

"I don't-" She swallowed, tried to make her voice less shaky, because she had to be brave, because Orana was probably more frightened, "I don't know where he is. I- he'll be back soon."

It didn't feel like he'd be back soon. The surgery was too tidy. Daddy's desk was usually piled high with papers she wasn't supposed to look at or (when she was too little to understand) draw on. Now it was swept clean, his healer's kit sat neatly on the chair, as if waiting for him to return with far more patience than Cara. It felt wrong in a way she would not have the words for for years. It felt like he was already gone, and fear sank into the hollow between her ribs and made her heart flutter like a caged bird.

"I- I'm sure he will," Orana echoed her, and squeezed her shoulder. Cara wished she hadn't. Orana was not a very good liar.

A fist slammed into the door to Darktown, and they both flinched at the sound. Orana shoved her down under the desk, so hard and so sudden she slammed her head against it and cried out.

"Ow, Orana-!"

The rapping came again, more urgent this time. Orana's hand clapped down over her mouth, her grip on her shoulder painfully tight.

"Please!" A rough voice called from outside, "For pity's sake, if we ever needed a healer, it's now!"

Cara was not a healer, was barely even a mage, but when the banging came again, she knew what her parents would have done. She wrenched herself from Orana's grip and ran to the door, yanking it open. Outside there was a small crowd of people, pressed tight against the clinic's wall to hide from the chaos outside.

She looked up at them, feeling suddenly very young and very out of place in her pretty embroidered dress with its fine ruffled petticoats. Even of the smallest of the children looked older and more tired than she'd ever felt. She swallowed, looked up at the nearest grown-up (a man, heavily scarred, bleeding from a deep cut on his scalp, and said: "He isn't here, but- I can help you, or try."

He stared down at her through his one remaining eye, and she felt a little sick. "You're just a kid," he said, with something like disgust, and she almost wanted to cry. Then she felt Orana's hand on her shoulder again, and realised that if she could be brave for Cara, when she was so much more scared of so many things, Cara would have to keep being brave for everyone else. She wondered if her mother had ever felt like this - too small and too frightened and having to do the brave thing anyway, because there was nobody else to do it. She hoped not. Being a hero shouldn't feel like this.

She swallowed down the sick she could taste at the back of her throat. "Maybe, but- I'm all there is right now."

He made a scoffing noise, moved to wheel away, but another man, shorter, face badly bruised, caught his shoulder and gave him a glare. "D'you know anything about healing?" he demanded, and she wanted to say No, she wanted to say Go away, she wanted to say I tried to be nice and you're being rude, because nobody had ever spoken harshly to her before, but that isn't what a hero would do. That isn't what her parents would do.

So she put her hands on her hips and said, in her mother's voice: "I know everything my father taught me, and Orana knows some too. And- and if I can't help you, you can wait here until he comes back."

He would come back. He always came back. It was the promise he made every time he had to leave unexpectedly, and couldn't tell her when he'd be home. He'd kiss her forehead and say: I'll be back soon, Cara-hase, and I'll bring your mama with me. He hadn't said it this morning, but then, they'd argued this morning. He'd been in one of his black moods where only Mama could reach him, and she'd pestered him for attention rather than leaving well alone. Maybe that was why she couldn't find him now.

She shook that thought off and stood aside, letting the people flood in. Some of them were limping, supported by friends or family, or favouring arms that were clearly broken. Cuts and scrapes she'd seen plenty of - she knew from memory how to clean a wound out with elfroot, and Orana, steeling herself, could close up the longer or deeper ones with neat, careful stitches. She'd never seen bruises so dark or so big, but she spread spindleweed balm across them nonetheless and said calming things like There, all better, and It'll be fine if you're careful, even if she wasn't sure it was true.

"The tunnels keep collapsing," the man with the bruised face told her while she smeared gooey spindleweed across it, as his husband swore loudly through Orana's stitching. "Whatever happened up in Hightown, it's shaken the foundations, and the Templars… they're looking for- someone."

He cut himself off as he seemed to focus on her face for the first time. "You said your daddy would be back soon?"

She nodded. "He always comes back."

He sighed, looked past and through her. "They always do, kid. Until they don't."

She shook her head, tried to remind herself that he didn't know her parents, that they always came back to her. That they were heroes, and that meant they always came home. She told herself that over and over again as the hours passed, as more people flooded through the door - some she could help, most she couldn't, even as she rationed and diluted the few elfroot potions kept aside for emergencies, and she didn't feel like a hero at all. She felt like she was a little girl again, and school had finished, and nobody had come to collect her - the cold, uncomfortable feeling of being forgotten, mingled with the fear of something Very Wrong having kept her parents away. At least now she was busy - now she was helping people, if only a little. Then she'd had to sit in the Chantry while the sisters did evening prayers, the stench of incense making her feel sick and sleepy and even more forgotten than she felt now.

Like the last time, when her mother finally came, she burst into angry, relieved tears like a baby, and flung herself into her arms. She'd been trying to be a hero, or at least a grown-up, for far too long, and suddenly she was hot and tired and hungry and scared but her mother was here and those were no longer her problem to fix.

"Where's the healer?" someone demanded over her head, and she relaxed, waiting for the reassuring answer.

Instead, her mother said: "Gone," and that was when she realised that this was nothing like the Qunari attack, that her life would never be the same again. That the world could be cut into two neat halves by a single syllable.

[biggerbearficrecs]

January 2025 Fic Recs

A list of what I’ve read/am reading this month.

[Note: Sorry for the delay.]

All recs underneath the cut:

Summary:

Teaser:

The Restless One by @bullet-prooflove (Colter Shaw x Reader)

Summary: Colter never sticks around in one place until now.

Teaser:

He sighs, thinking you’ve disappeared again but then he hears the crackle of wood outside, sees the orange glow of a fire peeking through the blinds.

He brings the blanket with him when he steps outside of the trailer. There’s a bite in the Nebraska air that causes goosebumps on his skin, he can see them on yours too as you sit out here in nothing but his t-shirt with a mug of tea clasped between your hands.

The scent of lavender reaches his nostrils, it’s infused with honey and camomile. Nightime tea, he realises, the exact same type his mom used to make when he was a kid.

“Bad dreams?” He questions as he drapes the blanket around your shoulders, squeezing them gently before he sits down alongside you.

“You think I’d be used to them by now.” You sigh, tucking yourself up against him.

“I don’t think it’s ever something you get used to.” He says softly, staring into the fire. “I still dream about the night my father died, finding him at the bottom of that cliff…”

He trails off then because he doesn’t like going back to that night, the guilt that’s associated with it. For the longest time he’d thought Russell was responsible, but then he ran into him again, looked into his eyes he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that his brother had killed their father.

“They say that PTSD changes your brain chemistry.” You tell him as you cradle the mug to your chest. “Mine must be seven shades of fucked up at this point.”

“I’d say we’re both a little fucked up.” Colter concedes as he gathers you up close, shielding you from the coldness of the night. “It’s probably why this works so well.”

A comfortable silence falls, the two of you watching the flames as they lick up towards the sky trying to chase away the darkness.

The Exit Strategy by @waynes-multiverse (Russell Shaw x Female!Reader)

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Teaser:

“So, what’s the plan here?” Colter asked with a clear of his throat. “You just wanna stay here and wait till she accidentally runs across the street?” It was meant as a joke, but to Colter’s dismay, Russell remained dead serious.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” the older Shaw confirmed and squinted his eyes at the busy street. Again, he had omitted a few things. In his mind, Colter didn’t need to know why Russell knew to be in front of the post office at exactly 15:03 (UTC–4) on a Tuesday.

Colter snorted a laugh. “What? C’mon, that can’t be the plan… Do you know how many people live in Falls Church? Or in the general Washington metropolitan area? We could be here for days. Weeks even…” The younger Shaw then switched fully into work mode, grabbing his phone from the Bluetooth car mount. “We’re never gonna find her like this. You got a phone number, maybe?” But before Russell could answer, Colter replied himself, shaking his head at his own silliness. “What am I even asking? Of course you don’t.”

Russell only smirked at that.

Unspoken Words by @winchesterwild78 & @cheekygirl2309 (Jensen Ackles x Reader)

Summary: This one is about a single mother with a nonverbal autistic daughter who loves Supernatural. The reader is going to a Supernatural Convention with her daughter and things unfold from there.

Teaser:

We were walking around looking at everything they had. Lily saw shirts and other items with Jensen on them and immediately wanted them. 

Then I heard a laugh that instantly pulled my head in the other direction. Standing at the Radio Company table was Jensen. 

My heart beat wildly. Lily didn’t hear or see him at first, but then he started talking and she saw him. 

Her eyes went wide and before I could stop her she ran towards him, arms wide and hugged his leg. 

“ Oh, who’s this?” He said as I walked up. Clif was instantly by his side. I was so scared we were about to be kicked out. 

“I am so sorry. She saw you and got away before I could grab her. Lily, let go. Come on baby.” She held tighter. Jensen smiled at me and bent down, “Hello Lily. It’s nice to meet you.” She held tighter. 

“I’m so sorry. She doesn’t speak. She’s nonverbal but loves Dean. We watch the show together as a way to bond. Lily, please let go. He has to leave. We have to leave.” 

She shook her head no. I took a deep breath trying to hold myself together.

1am by @bullet-prooflove (Joe Velasco x Reader)

Summary: You call Joe at 1am asking for a ride

Teaser:

You’re asleep, curled up in the passenger seat of Joe’s car, his leather jacket draped around you. He turns up the heating, reaching over to alter the vent so the warm air blows in your direction.

You’d scared the hell out of him tonight, calling him up at 1am drunk and crying, begging him to pick you up. He doesn’t think he’s ever dressed so quickly in his life. He’d found you hanging around outside that old bar the two of you used to visit, back when you were more than just friends.

He gets part of the story as he helps you into the car. The man you were with, the one after him, he was fucking someone else. You’d caught him in your bed, left the apartment without so much as your jacket.

Joe can’t say he’s surprised, there’s always been rumours about that guy, he’d tried to tell you that but you’d accused him of being bitter, jealous. It’s the reason the two of you stopped talking for a while because you were half right, he was jealous of the man who got to love you, the one that wasn’t him.

Baby, it's Cold by @winchestergirl2 (Alec McDowell x Reader)

Summary: Alec tries to convince you to stay in bed.

Teaser:

There was a crisp chill in the air when you woke, making you want to snuggle back down under the covers. Turning your head, to check the time you realise you are going to have to brave the chill or face the wrath of Normal for being late to work once again. Although in your defence, how were you supposed to resist the charms of the man who was the cause of your recent tardiness.

As you try to twist yourself out of the warm cacoon you were in, Alec woke up and slid his arms around you, mumbling into your neck 'it's too cold, stay in bed'.

Downpour by @klutzygirl (Brooke x Rachel)

Summary: Rachel and Brooke run out into a storm.

Teaser:

Rachel grabbed Brooke’s hand and gently dragged out of the house, ready to soak up the storm. “What the hell?” a laughing Brooke shrieked as the rain started to pour down on them.

“Figured you’d want to enjoy this,” a grinning Rachel told her before they locked lips.

“Okay, you win this round,” Brooke acquiesced.

“Glad you know who the real winner is here,” Rachel snarked at her girlfriend before twirling her around.

They were both soaked to the bone now but neither one of them gave a flying fuck about it - they could have fun drying each other off in a little while.

Sneaking Away by @caplanbuckybarnes (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Dean catches you just before you leave the bunker for good.

Teaser:

The creak of the bunker’s heavy door echoed faintly in the stillness of the night, followed by the soft shuffle of boots against the cold floor. You barely made it past the war room when a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you sneaking off to at this late hour?”

You froze, heart sinking at the familiar gravel in Dean’s voice. Slowly, you turned to see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his green eyes shadowed with suspicion—and something deeper you couldn’t quite place.

“Dean…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stepped closer, his boots heavy on the floor, the sound unnerving in the silence. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, nodding toward the duffel slung over your shoulder.

You tightened your grip on it instinctively, your stomach churning. “It’s nothing. I just need some air, that’s all.”

“That why you’ve got your car keys, too?” His jaw clenched, his gaze burning into yours.

You bit your lip, unable to meet his eyes. You’d spent weeks working up the nerve for this moment, convincing yourself it was for the best. But standing here, with Dean looking at you like that—like you were breaking something inside him—it was almost too much to bear.

#11 by @talesfromlissom (SDV Leah x Female!Reader)

Teaser:

Leah looks up and behind the couch again, her grip on her fuzzy blanket tightening. There’s another crash against the door, causing Leah to flinch. You turn to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Leah?” You whisper.

“I heard it again.” She whispers. “The…banging on the door.”

“Banging?” You ask.

Leah nods, her eyes fixed on the door infront of her.

“Do…Do you think-” Leah starts.

“No, I never think.” You chuckle, grinning afterwards. Leah frowns.

“Sorry.” You mutter, clearly not being able to lighten the mood.

Leah scooches over to you, resting her head on your shoulder.

“You don’t think someone is trying to break in…right?”

You shake your head.

“In this weather? No. I wouldn’t even go out in this weather. I think it’s just the thunder, dear.” You say, planting a soft kiss on her head.

Hush Hush Behind The Shield by @syrma-sensei (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Being America's greatest hero's wife has its perks, but they don't come for free…

Teaser:

You crooned softly as you wrapped a towel around your body after you finished your shower. Stepping out, you rubbed your hair with another towel and made your way down towards the kitchen to check on the pie.

Oh, Ben liked pies. You found it amusing how he'd swallow a whole pie alone and wouldn't affect him one bit; a supe sure required a lot of calories. Sometimes, you wished you had his great metabolism.

The moreish scent of baked dough and chocolate told you it was ready. You opened the oven door with a protected hand and placed the delicious pie by the window to let it cool down while you dressed up.

On your way back to your bedroom, you padded through the living room again. Your eyes glanced fleetingly at the screen only to stop abruptly in your tracks. A slight frown made it to your face as you saw a picture of Ben and Crimson Countess together. You never liked Countess. Something about her always disturbed you, and your guts were right.

Your eyes roamed the headline over and over, dilating in stupor.

Breaking News: Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess are officially together, Vought announced.

You shook your head in disbelief, hand grasping the remote control from the couch, shivering fingers shuffling through the channels.

Soldier Boy finally found the one!

Your heart paced up with each press.

A long awaited power couple is now here!

Vought just shocked the world by—

And here's Soldier Boy and Countess's statement…

It was hard to quell your simmering anger when you saw your husband smiling face with that bitch between his arms. Camera flashes and clicks swarmed around them with an entourage of reporters and interviewers.

“Hey, Soldier Boy, now you're together, what can you tell us about the first time you saw Countess? Was it love at first?” A reporter asked.

Ben scratched his beard with his gloved hand, drawling “First time I met Tess was when Vought concocted a hero collab years ago, remember that honey?”

You did remember that event very clearly. You were still Ben's secret girlfriend at the time, and it was exclusive to superheroes, yet Ben brought you there as his date.

Ben grinned as if dreamily reminiscing about the memory as he continued, “And lemme tell ya one thing, this one is a firecracker.”

Countess giggled playfully, gazing up at your husband in the most flirtatious way, it made you gag with disgust.

You scoffed bitterly at the blatant lies spurting right in your face. That specific night, Ben had childishly grumbled and complained about how much he wanted to be out of there. And to spice things up, he playfully dragged you from the pristine hall the event took place in, and fucked you raw against one of the wall of some other hall, keeping your panties as a souvenir for the rest of the soirée. He kept teasing you through the entire night, riling and messing you up. At the time, it was thrilling and venturous. Now, however, it knotted at the tip of your stomach. His focus that day was solely on you. He wasn't even aware of the bitch's presence for all you care.

“And when I first saw her… knew she was the one….”

You couldn't comprehend what Ben said after that point as a deafening buzz bolted through your ears. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and soon they were streaming from your eyes as you stood numb on your spot. Your tears splattered on the ground along with your heart.

"I'd let you if you asked" by @heavysighing-dreamyeyes (Jason Todd x Reader)

Teaser:

Jason Todd always had a habit of being in your space. It's something you didn't mind, but it is something you kept note of. He leans towards you, head angled down to catch every sound that comes through your throat, observing every twitch of your muscles with a sharp, intent gaze.

But even if he always seems to linger in your shadow, even if his eyes darkened with the desire for something more, he was careful. He never touched you before you touched him, and he always caught himself, when his fingers instinctively reached for you.

Something as simple as a hug, a brush over the back of your hand, a tousle of your hair, he denied himself over and over again. It was almost frustrating to see him denying himself something you never held back from him.

He melts into every hug you give, relishes when you thread your fingers together, nearly drops to his knees every time you kiss his cheek.

But then he'll falter, when you pull away, like he's snapping back to reality. He'll remind you that he's not good. In not so many words, he tells you he's poison. That he'll end up ruining you. Breaking you.

You think he's silly for it, because Jason Todd is nothing but good.

Helping Hand by @bensonstablers (Benson x Velasco)

Summary: Prepared to go home for the night, Velasco finds Olivia still in her office and sticks around to check in with her.

Teaser:

He moves closer to where she stands but not too close, afraid to spook her again.

“Here.”

She turns, looking a little startled but not scared. Her eyes narrow in confusion then down to the bag of peas he’s holding up and her face turns to amusement as she raises a brow at him. “Peas?”

“Yeah, I picked them up.” He feels nervous suddenly. “Figured they might come in handy with," he gestures vaguely to her face, "and I wanted to do something.”

She visibly softens and when she speaks, her voice is quiet but sure. “You’ve done a lot. I don’t think we could have gotten to Oscar Papa as quickly as we did without you helping to get his driver's name.”

“It was nothing.” He shrugs. “And anyway, I know from experience that frozen peas can sometimes be better, more comfortable, than ice.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re in pain.” He urges the bag towards her. “Now, all due respect, Captain… Take the bag.”

An amused smile forms on her face. “Is that an order, detective?”

“If that’s what works for you.”

There’s a moment before Olivia huffs out a laugh and swipes the peas from him and Velasco can’t help the triumphant smile that crosses his face. There’s a slight roll of her eyes before she presses the bag to her face. He has to bite back a laugh when a groan escapes her and her shoulders sag with relief.

“I’ll let it pass that you gave me an order, if you don’t let it get to your head that this was a good idea.”

He really does laugh then and feeling emboldened he guides her over to the couch, ignoring her protests, and gets her to sit down.

"All that tough talking you were doing and now look at ya" by @daryl-dixon-daydreams (Negan Smith x Reader)

Teaser:

"Whoooa, whoa! Okay—hey, doll. Take it easy. Negan's here," he said, kneeling down beside you. "I'm gonna help you outta here, alright?" One of your pant legs was absolutely soaked in blood and your teeth were gritted against the pain. You had a hand pressed over your thigh but blood was seeping out between your fingers alarmingly fast.

You looked up at him and your eyes were fearful and a little disbelieving to see him there. "Didn't I tell you, about two hours ago, to 'fuck off'?" you breathed.

Negan couldn't help chuckling a little despite the situation. He pulled a spare shirt from his bag and ripped a strip off. "Anything you want to take back?"

You shut your eyes and leaned back against the tree behind you. "I don't know. Let me think about it."

He smiled. "Yeah, alright. While you think about it, I'm gonna save your life, okay?"

Against the Wind by @zepskies (Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega Female!Reader)

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

Teaser:

You wake up freezing and shivering in pain. A sensation of small sharp needles begins to travel all across your skin. Slowly, as you’re able to blink, your view of the dark wood cabin clears and focuses. You realize that you’re bundled in blankets, and laying on a chaise in front of a large fireplace. Still, you’re too cold. A keening whimper escapes you as you try to burrow in.

Alpha. Your body instinctively recognizes his presence, as he’s suddenly there, hovering close above you with a divot between his brows and a frown marring his face, where thick stubble threatens to become a beard. Stern, dark brows are furrowed over his concerned eyes. His plush frown is framed by a stubborn-looking chin. Your gaze wearily travels over his handsome features, his short brown hair, the flickers of firelight that splash across the side of his face.

He places a warm, calloused hand on your forehead, and he mutters a curse. Your body trembles further with cold. You part your lips, but you can’t yet force your voice to escape them.

Again, he quite literally takes the problem into his own hands. He peels away the thick blankets just to slide himself in behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, and you feel their tempered strength when they cage you in against him. You manage to turn your head and rest your cheek against his chest, covered by red plaid. Thank you…

Almost on reflex, you breathe in his scent deeply.  The earthiness of it calms you, warms you from the inside. Your shivering eventually calms and turns to purring in your chest. 

“What’s your name, Omega?” he asks. His voice is deep and gruff, and it threatens to make you shiver for a different reason as the timbre of it washes over you. 

It’s difficult, but you manage to speak, clearing past your parched throat to give him your name. He nods, as if rolling the sound of it back and forth across his mind.

“Was somebody out there with you?” he asks.

You shake your head, even though the thought elicits a painful twinge in your heart. 

“Who…” you try to speak again, even though it hurts a little. “Who are you?”

You feel him take a deep breath. He hesitates, like he’s reluctant to give it to you. 

“Dean,” he says. 

You roll the name around in your head, over and over. Dean, Dean, Dean…

You smile slightly. “Yeah, makes sense.”

Forging A New Life by @klutzygirl (Beau x Cassie)

Summary: Beau and Cassie start building a new life once they move in together.

Teaser:

Beau dropped a box on the floor and groaned. “I hate moving,” he complained to his girlfriend.

Cassie glanced down at the box then looked back up at him. “You’re lucky there’s nothing breakable in there,” she teased.

He shrugged. “Eh, fuck it even if there was anything fragile. I don’t care anymore.” He plopped down on the couch, needing to take a break.

Cassie joined him and smiled when he wrapped his arm around her. “Moving sucks.”

The ranch was perfect so that was a point in its favor - as was the woman he loved. He and Cassie were forging a new life together - with Emily and Kai - that they hoped would last. This was a second chance at love for both of them. They didn’t intend to waste a minute of it.

Okay to Cry by @romancingromanoff (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: (request) Natasha romanoff and reader? Established relationship. Reader has a really really bad day and comes home crying, doing her best to hide her tears from her girlfriend but Nat finds out anyway?

Teaser:

You wiped a couple of stray tears off on your sleeves and blinked profusely while fanning your face. Looking in the rear view mirror again you noticed that your eyes were indeed a little puffy but you could just blame it on allergies. Sighing at your predicament, you dragged your way out of your car and tried not to make too much noise fumbling with your keys at the door. You opened it as quietly as you could and stepped into the house.

“Hey, babe,” Nat’s voice came from the kitchen where you could also smell leftovers being cooked up.

“Hi!” you tried to sound like your normal chipper self but then whined at how over exaggerated that came out. She would definitely be suspicious now…

“You’re excited. Good day at work?”

“Um, yeah,” you carefully put up your coat and bag near the door so that you were facing away from your girlfriend at all times. “Addison’s birthday was today so she brought in cupcakes for everybody.”

“Ooh, those ones her boyfriend the baker does with the homemade icing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you bring me one back?” Natasha eyed you looking up from her food and you did your best to try and just casually shrug before just naturally becoming interested in arranging the vase of flowers in the hallway. It wasn’t your worst coverup since you often went a little OCD and organized random things around the house, but you still hadn’t even looked at your girlfriend which caused her to frown in suspicion.

“Uh, no, sorry. He only made enough for everyone at work.”

“I think you’re lying,” her words pierced you with fear and you froze for a second. Trying to play it off, you fake sneezed into your elbow and then continued to take your shoes off, never looking her way.

“You’re right,” you playfully fussed back. “Sorry, I just got hungry on my way home. You know, in the traffic?”

“Y/N,” Natasha was blatantly demanding that you look her in the eyes. You cringed and took a deep breath in before putting on your best face and turning around.

Sweet Like Chocolate by @raz-writes-the-thing (Venom x Reader)

Summary: Venom's enjoys it when you're his host.

Teaser:

WE ARE NOT A BABY.

You tut and continue about making Venom’s tater tots. It hadn’t really been a genuine thought. It’s just that when you and Eddie trade Venom between you like parents trading a toddler for alone time, it kind of felt that way at times. Not that you were complaining, of course. Any time with Venom piggybacking in your head was time well spent in your own personal opinion. 

It was just a shame that you weren’t a better match. Then he could come around with you more often. But no, that was Eddie’s responsibility, it would seem. 

“I know, V- you know how human brains work. Thoughts just pop in unannounced.” 

I WILL ALLOW IT.

You chuckle and pour yourself a glass of wine. A tendril of Venom’s form spreads from your back to put the wine bottle away for you, and you thank him kindly. Checking the timer on the tots, you frown. They were going to be at least another fifteen minutes. 

“What do you want to do tonight, V?” You ask, plopping down on the lounge chair and taking a sip. 

WE WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU. 

You smile softly, and Venom chuckles in your brain in response. That took some getting used to, actually, hearing someone laugh in your mind. But like all things, you acclimated. 

“We’re doing that, buddy,” you reply.

Whiskey and Cola by @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: When Y/N visits Harvelle’s, she’s not feeling her best. It isn’t until another bright-eyed hunter joins her for a drink that things start to liven up…

Teaser:

“Tell me I’m dreaming.”

Y/N gave a start and looked to her left. She hadn’t noticed that a young man had taken a seat on the stool next to her despite the line of empty spots.

She quirked a brow. “Is that your idea of a pick-up line?” she asked, unimpressed.

The man turned away from her to wave at Ellen. “Double shot of whiskey. Rocks!” he called out.

“On it!”

He turned back to Y/N and grinned. “Course’ not. I just can’t believe you ordered a can of Coke at a bar. Just making sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me. You know that they sell booze here, right?”

“I like pop.”

“I can see that. Just take it easy on the sugar, something tells me you’re sweet enough,” he said with a wink.

“Dean Winchester!” Ellen exclaimed, placing an amber glass and a red can in front of the man and Y/N respectively. “Quit heckling my customers!”

“I happen to be engaging in polite conversation here, Ellen,” he said innocently. “No harm done. Oh and before you go, how bout’ you keep a couple of beers on standby for me?”

Y/N chuffed in amusement. “I’ll lay off the sugar alright,” she said. “Just as soon as you tone down on the alcohol. It’ll do a number on your liver, you know.”

He tipped his glass forwards. “Touché.”

Stolen Crown by @roonyxx & @jay-and-dean (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: What happens when she is sent in a world that isn’t hers, but with very familiar faces?

Teaser:

Her back flat against the tree, she turns her head a little to be able to see beyond the thick bark, holding her breath and reaching for the knife in her boot. 

A beautiful, massive shiny black horse is nervously stepping on the ground while the owner of the mare pats it on the neck.

“Easy girl” the man says. 

She frowns, keeping the dagger in her hand, ‘that voice… I know it.’ When she dares to look between the leaves, her eyes widen.

“Dean?” she says with a confused smile, putting the knife back in her boot, as she steps from out of the bushes.

“My Queen !” he throws his leg over the majestic black horse and steps off, right away going down on one knee in front of her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I have been looking for you, my Queen” he says towards the ground, not looking up to her once.

“Queen ?” she huffs, still a little dizzy. “Where the Hell are we, Dean ? And what the fuck are you wearing, is that… a freaking armor?” she asks, pointing at his weird clothes.

Dean finally tilts his head upwards. And when he sees her, his eyes nearly fall out of his head, his mouth is open but no words leave his lips. The more he stares at her like she was naked, the more she starts to feel a little self conscious.

His eyes slowly travel up her bare legs, a confused expression on his face, when she bends a little to make eye contact with him he quickly adverts his gaze.

“Your Majesty, what happened to your robes ? Are you harmed ?” he asks, obviously worried. 

“Cut the crap, Dean, what’s happening ? Where are we ?” she asks, annoyed.

“We are in the…” he looks around a little, apparently wondering what to answer. “In the woods… Not far from the Castle, my Queen” he says.

She stares at him, mouth agape, a deep feeling of confusion replacing the annoyance totally. Her tone changes to something colder, more distant.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘queen’ ?” she asks. “And what’s up with the stupid clothes ?”

He dares looking up at her again, a sorry frown on his face. 

“My apologies, your Highness. I do not understand… Is there something wrong with my apparel ?” he stands up, his eyes searching her face. “Did you hit your head or have you fallen maybe ? You disappeared, my Queen. I have been so worried” he turns to his horse to retrieve a big grey fur cloak. “What happened to your gown, did someone attack you ?” 

His head low, he comes closer to carefully drape the very heavy cape around her shoulders.

“I obviously failed at my duty” his eyes are dark and she clearly recognizes that crushing guilt on his features

She touches the floor length fur coat he put around her with a frown. It’s pleasantly warm outside, there is no need for this… 

Everything he does is weird, and why does he look so different ? Was he hit by a spell of some weird stuff like that time he was losing his memory ? 

Unless… 

If It's Meant To Be by @jawritter (Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!Reader)

Summary: Bad things happen to good people, that’s just the rule of thumb. But sometimes, things happen for a reason, and that reason is so you can find the person you’re meant to be with…

Teaser:

“Go away Omega,” he warned, sending a shiver down her spine at the use of her title in his voice. “You’re not safe here.”

Now, normally, that would have sent her running, screaming in the other direction. But she was nothing if she wasn’t stubborn, and fuck if he didn’t smell amazing, and the way his deep voice rolled over made her heart hammer so loud against her ribcage that she seriously thought he could probably hear it through the door. There was no way she could run now if she wanted to. The Omega had gotten his scent, and she knew what she wanted. She wanted her Alpha. Beau was her Alpha, she knew it, she just knew it. 

“Alpha, please, open the door,” she pleaded and he whined as she placed her hand on the cold silver steal of the door. “Jenny said you’ve been sick for days now. I can help. Just let me in.”

“Darlin, you don’t want to be tied to a man like me, and if you come in here, I’m not gonna be able to stop. Leave, please, while I still have the composure to let you,” he tried again, and she flinched at the rejection in his voice. 

He was standing closer to the door now, probably leaning on the other side, because she could swear that she felt the heat of his body coming through the thin steel. 

“You’re not gonna scare me off Beau,” she stated matter of factly, rooted in her own stubbornness. She never was one to give up very easily and walk away, especially not when it took all the self convincing to even come all the way out here to see him. 

“I’m not trying to scare you, I’m telling you the truth,” he growled through the door. “I’m telling you the truth. I’ve got more baggage than I can even handle on a good day. My job is dangerous, I’m more likely to die on the end of some asshole’s gun than I am to retire. I’ve got a child with another woman. I live in a goddamn tin-can that I call a trailer. I’m old enough to be your dad. I’m action packed with issues you will hopefully never see. I’ve got trust issues, and separation anxiety. I talk to fucking much. I promise you Omega, you don’t want me. No one does.”

Y/N leaned her forehead against the cold door, and closed her eyes to fight against the sudden pit that had begun to form in the pit of her stomach. His scent had changed to an almost sour, oppressively sad scent that could have been suffocating, and it told her that he believed every word that had just come out of his mouth. It made her heart ache for him.

Marry me in the battlefield by @herstarburststories (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Dean decides to propose you in the midst of a hunt.

Teaser:

The surprise stokes him when he recognizes them on your face, moonlight shinning on you as if its only mission is to give you light to search in the dark for more monsters. Lisa understood job, but you understand what exactly comes with it. Not only the anxiety, not having a home for too long, or the fact that there are guns hidding in every inch of places you stay for a couple hours.

You understand the thrill, the necessity to keep going, how the blood in your hands is never going to be washed, so you might as well make it worth it.

And you smile. You smile as if it was a romantic date and you couldn’t wait to kiss him. You smile as if this is a good routine. You smile as if you are excited to crumble into a random restaurant and eat food that will kill you from inside.

And Dean knows you mean all of it. You want this life, you want him. You love how it goes.

Therefore, it’s no shock when the words leave his lips, “Marry me.”

Sam stops on his tracks, holding a vampire’s head as a football ball; he is surprised, and so are you. Ok, this specific moment might be unsettling for normal people, but what would be more fitting than that for you two?

You frowned, unsure of your own ears, “What?”

“I said, marry me.”

Love On the 26th Floor by @wayward-dreamer (Dean Smith x Reader)

Summary: Y/N has been working as a personal assistant to the successful CEO of Smith Construction Co, for just a few weeks. It may not be her field of expertise, but she needs this job to pay off her student loans and live her life as she tackles a part-time Masters degree at the same time. She finds her boss Dean Smith incredibly intimidating and insanely attractive; but an office fling is the last thing she needs, especially with her employer. But you can only avoid temptation for so long…

Teaser:

“Congratulations to Y/N, on her new job at Smith Construction!”

Y/N and her friends clinked their glasses of champagne together, cheering for her as the loud chatter of the bar continued around them. Y/N sipped the sparkling liquid, smiling at her friends.

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping her arm around Annie, who had just given the toast.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be working for Dean Smith,” Emma exclaimed from across the table. “He’s so fucking gorgeous!”

“You get to look at his face any time you want,” Annie said, smirking.

“And maybe even do something else,” Emma suggested, wagging her eyebrows. The girls laughed, but Y/N didn’t join in.

“Guys, come on. I’m not going to sleep with my boss. I need this job and I’m grateful he even gave it to me. So, drop it. Okay?” she told them, looking between both her friends, an eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, Y/N. We were only joking,” Emma muttered, a sheepish look gracing her face.

“It’s okay, let’s just forget about it.” Y/N took another sip of her drink, before picking up the menu from the table. “Alright, what’re we eating?”

As her friends continued to decide what they wanted, Y/N’s mind pondered over what they had just talked about. Dean Smith had absolutely had an effect on her, and she knew how hard it was going to be to work for him now. However, no matter what happened, she couldn’t give into the thoughts she was having about him. As much as she wanted him to rip her clothes off and bend her over his desk, she couldn’t let it happen.

She needed this job, and she was determined to keep it.

Too Close To Gone by @jawritter (Huntercorp!Dean x Reader)

Summary: Dean’s been gone for a year. You have been gone from the Bunker for just about as long. When you finally get the guts to go back “home” after leaving, someone you never thought you’d see again stumbles into your life, and now you have to figure out how to move on with a constant reminder of what you’ve lost following you around in the flesh.

Teaser:

Slowly, you peek around the wall, and stop in your tracks, nearly  dropping your gun at the sight that was waiting for you. 

At first, you were  in utter shock at seeing Dean’s face, albeit battered and more than a little banged up, but it was his face. His eyes stared bewildered back at you as he raised his hands slowly, using the sidewall of the building to brace himself. 

Once the shock faded, anger took its place. You fired a shot at the ground close to the creature’s feet before you even realized what you were doing. The damn idiot just sank to the ground and covered it’s face. 

How could this creature, whatever the fuck it was dare put on your dead boyfriend’s face. How dare it imitate him. You were going to destroy it, whatever it took. 

“Y/N! Please, it’s me! It’s Dean!” It yelled at you from it’s cowered position on the ground as you fired off another round, this time one much closer  than the previous one that had landed in the dirt. You hadn’t intended to taunt the creature, but whatever the fuck it was that was trying to act like he was your Dean, that shit  wasn’t going to fly. 

Tears were rolling down your face in  anger. You had never been so sick. So angry. The last time you had seen that face was when you had spent hours washing off the blood that had dripped from his lips, and you wrapped him up so carefully to be burned. Now, it was calling your name a damn look alike? You couldn’t think. All you could see was red. 

“Don’t you fucking dare imitate Dean, you sick son of a bitch. I’m going to fucking kill you, you understand me. You’re going to fucking die. Dean is dead. I buried his ashes myself, and you’re going to come here and try to act like him! After you sons of bitches took him from me!”

This time you sent a round straight to it’s thigh muscle, and it screamed in pain, it’s voice an exact echo of what Dean’s had been. It was silver bullets in the gun, a devil’s trap carved into the blunt tip of the bullet. If it was a werewolf you would have gotten a hell of a lot more than a scream, and if it was a demon it wouldn’t be able to try and roll away from you like it was doing. Silver would have proved it a shifter too, but something wasn’t right.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m not imitating Dean. I am Dean goddammit! From the other world! The one Chuck destroyed! Remember? You were there when my brother Sam and I left  here!”

You froze on the spot, completely unable to move. 

Meet Cute by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Daryl Dixon x Female!Reader)

Summary: Reader is surviving in the apocalypse alone, until she meets a stranger who needs her help, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. This is a reimagining of when Daryl gets hurt trying to find Sophia in Season 2, in which the reader shoots Daryl instead of Andrea. This can be read as stand alone, but can also be read as a prequel fic to “Your Fault,” describing how reader and Daryl met for the first time.

Teaser:

You hear a strange sound behind you and as turn around, bag in hand, you notice that the man isn't on the ground anymore. He's standing, crossbow drawn, pointed directly at your chest.

Great.

"Where the hell am I?" The man growls.

Your chest tightens in fear. By the time I reach for my gun he’ll shoot me.

"It’s okay." You force the tremor from your voice, trying your best not to look frightened. The bag drops to the ground  and you hold up your hands in front of you in a gesture of surrender. "You're at my cabin. You're safe."

"Why?" His eyes narrow as he takes another step forward.

This was such a bad idea.

The One That Got Away by @justwhisperingfantasies (Jensen Ackles x Reader)

Summary: You thought you had left Supernatural and Jensen in the past, but almost 6 years later you get roped back in when your job is on the line.

Teaser:

“I don’t think I can do this.” A nervous Jensen admitted walking up to the curtain on the stage between you and Jared.

“Jay, you got this,” Jared assured him.

Jensen took a deep breath. “Did you get the seat?” He looked over to you.

“Yes, I’ll be right in front of you. When you get nervous or overwhelmed just look down and I’ll flash you or something.”

Jensen let out a laugh lifting his face.

“Um, (y/n) I’m feeling a bit nervous too. “ Jared professed

You and Jensen glared at him. “I think you’ll be alright.” You told him walking over to the  stage entrance

“You guys got this.” You kissed Jensen on the cheek. “I love you both.” You then kissed Jared on the cheek. “Have fun!!” You said as you turned to walk away.

“Love you too.” They said at the same time. You could hear the boys talking, but you couldn’t make out the words.

Lily was standing by the wall. She started walking with you as you passed. “Are you ever going to tell him how you feel?” You rolled your eyes and looked back at Jensen.  He blew you a kiss and mouthed thank you. You nodded and gave him a smile.

“Probably not.” You said facing forward and continuing walking.

Princess Treatment by @storiesofsvu (Terry Bruno x Reader x Joe Velasco)

Teaser:

You tugged your lip into your mouth, glancing toward the bathroom once again and were just about to slip your fingers into the waist band of your shorts when a beep echoed from the door and you nearly jumped, reaching out for your cocktail again.

“Hey.” Joe flashed a tired smile in your direction as he let the door fall shut behind him, already tugging the shirt off his body to toss in the direction of his bag. He stalled slightly, glancing back to you as his hands came to his belt buckle, “you mind?”

“Huh?” You barely pulled your eyes away from the television and he chuckled.

“Who am I kidding, you’re already in your underwear.” Another couple of seconds and he was stripped down to his briefs, wandering to the mini fridge to grab a beer while you drained the rest of your cocktail. He looked up at the sound of your straw scraping the bottom of the glass combined with a muffled noise he couldn’t quite make out, “what?”

“Neighbour’s got company.” You explained, nodding your head toward the wall.

“Great.” He muttered, grabbing a beer, “you want one?”

“Please.”

He tossed you the chilled can before retreated to the other bed, dropping against it and you couldn’t help but watch out of the corner of your eye as he rolled the can against his neck to help cool down as he settled in. Right as he cracked open the beer there was a rather loud moan from the other side of the wall, followed by the sound of a spank and an even louder noise from the woman. An exaggerated chain of swears and moans began to come through the wall and Jose chuckled.

“Someone’s enjoying themselves.”

“Oh please.” You scoffed, “she’s showing off.”

“Yeah?” He raised a brow in your direction and you rolled your eyes.

“Yes.”

On the other side of the room the shower finally came to a stop, Terry stepping out wrapped in a towel a few minutes later. He was about to greet the two of you when the bedframe from the other room began colliding with the wall, the woman’s wails nowhere near natural and he huffed.

“Are they seriously still going at it?”

“Still?!” You whined, “it sounded like they just started.”

The banging on the wall increased, louder with each hit and you barely had time to wince before Terry pounded against the shared wall with his fist. Silence overtook the room for a couple of seconds, followed by muffled laughter until the moans started up again.

“Looks like no one’s getting any sleep tonight.” Bruno groaned, running a hand over his face.

“Great.” You muttered, taking a swig of your beer.

Stoking the Flame by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior (Beau Arlen x Jenny Hoyt)

Summary: Jenny and Beau have been ignoring the spark between them for a long time. How much longer can they continue?

Teaser:

It had been there from day one.

Under the cover of antagonism and teasing, behind the barriers of obligations and professionalism, there had burned the embers of a fire she knew would quickly flare to life if they ever dared to stoke the flames for even a moment.

Beau broke their locked gaze, as he usually did, looking away into the fire. But he squeezed her knee gently, letting her know without words that he wasn't pulling away completely.

She leaned into him a little closer and laid her head on his wide shoulder, his jacket slightly rough beneath her cheek. He kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek against it.

They stayed that way for a while, knowing that they could continue on like this, simply giving each other comfort and staring into the flames; they wouldn't be going any further, they wouldn't be risking anything, they could still make believe they were just partners, just friends.

They could stay like this and stay safe.

But as though by silent, simultaneous agreement they pulled out of the easy embrace, turning to look at one another. Their gazes connected again and Jenny knew Beau wasn't leaving tonight.

Oh, and before I forget…

Thank you!!! 💕💕

all dividers by @saradika-graphics

[melodymunson]

stranger things to do list chapters 7 & 8

6.7K words

chapter 7 Billy Hargrove x fem reader

chapter 8 Eddie Munson x fem reader

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Chapter 7

Loss of virginity, vaginal sex, sex with a condom, aftercare

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me.

Reader goes on a date with Billy and loses her virginity.

Another week went by with you working as a lifeguard and some shifts with Steve and Billy. Even though Heather was there, she mainly kept to herself instead of embarrassing you. Barb and Nancy visited you at the pool one day during your shift. When you were on your lifeguard tower one day looking through magazines with Nancy and Barb, you noticed Steve and Billy staring while you sucked on a red, white, and blue popsicle.

It must be the sexy Polaroid pictures you left in their lockers. Steve had been taking you on dates a bit nothing special, but he paid. Billy and Steve were both charming, but you had your eyes set on Billy. Steve and you had been hooking up. The occasional oral, more hand jobs for him, and even 69’ing. You weren’t a couple though, and didn’t label the relationship.

Billy being the cocky guy he was, walked over to you during your break and put his hand on your shoulder.

“I was thinking we should go on a date. Just you and me, doll. A night out doing whatever you want.”

“How about the drive-in movies? I would love to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show on the big screen.”

“Hmm, so this Saturday maybe I can pick you up? I know girls can’t resist my Camaro.”

He was right. His car was a Chevy and sleek. You would be the luckiest girl at that drive-in.

“Well, how about after? Maybe see where the night takes us or we could do something. If there’s drinking, it might not be a good idea for us to drive.”

“I like how you think. Sneak in booze and drink a bit. Let's play it by ear though.”

You reached out touching his biceps and squeezing it admiring the skull tattoo on his shoulder.

“Pick me up at 8 then, Billy.”

The rest of the week, you pick the best outfit and decide on your makeup. There was no way you could go to your place after the date. Heather would be around. The week after, you would have the place to yourself while your family was camping with the neighbors.

If Billy asked you to have sex with him, you would be sure to be safe and ready. Condoms and of course, clean STI/STD tests. Going out one day you bought protection, being sure to have lube and condoms, not wanting to be without. Just in case Billy didn’t bring any along. But what if he didn’t like virgins…

Steve soon found out you were going out with Billy and you just hoped he wasn’t too jealous. Throughout the summer, you have spent some of your best days with your friends and at the pool. It was finally happening though, and you could be with Billy. As far as a relationship was concerned, you would just take your time with that.

The day of the date Heather was lurking in the hallway as you were getting ready and doing your makeup. You dressed up for the occasion and go as Magenta for the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Complete with the dress, apron, tights, and red wig, you did your makeup just like Magenta. Heather came into your room just as you were spraying some perfume and putting on lotion.

“What do you want Heather?”

“I don't like that tone you are taking with me. I just wanted to say you’ve come a long way. Even if we aren't biological sisters, I still care about you, alright? Just be careful.”

She had a point. Heather had her moments of being an overprotective sister, after all. She meant well though, and you couldn't possibly be upset with her. Even though she got on your nerves and even though you fought, sometimes she was still your sister for better or for worse.

“Thanks, Heather. I mean sis.”

“By the way, for what it's worth, you look great and Billy is a really lucky guy.”

Billy showed up about a half hour later in his Camaro and you were getting even more excited. Hopefully, he would like your outfit and makeup. He rang the bell and you answered. Billy was wearing ripped jeans, black boots, and a button-up black long-sleeved shirt. He also smelled of a nice cologne that was most likely sandalwood.

“Missed you, Billy. I can't wait for our date.”

“Well, you won't have to miss me any longer.”

Now in his car, he turned on the radio, and the familiar sound of Judas Priest's painkiller blasted through the speakers. You were handed flowers from him beautiful dozen red roses. Billy eyed you as he drove and he was just glad to be there, putting his hand on your thigh and squeezing it. The car ride there was nice, and you loved his taste in music.

“I forgot to mention just how beautiful you are tonight in that outfit. It's so amazing you did your best to be Magenta.”

“Ready to do the time warp with your Magenta then tonight, Billy?” You asked with a chuckle.

“Damn right, I am, doll.”

Soon you were at the drive-in paying your entry fees and then picked a space in the middle of the drive-in parking lot. Lots of people were there, and it was dark now. The movie's opening trailers were starting. Billy rolled down the windows slightly to bring in some fresh air.

“So you wanna get some snacks, maybe? My treat. Whatever you want.”

He took out his wallet and gave you a twenty.

“Thanks, Billy. I’ll get popcorn, sodas, candy. Anything else?”

“Sounds good doll. Whatever you want, like I said, I’m good for it.”

When you stood in line to get your snacks, you noticed there was Karen there with Ted. You wanted to tell her off. All these years of knowing she wanted to put the moves on Billy. All that was stopping her was probably her husband. With him around, though, it was pointless to make a scene. Once you got your Sour Patch Kids, red vines, and popcorn with extra butter and a little salt, you filled up your sodas at the self-serve station with a Dr. Pepper and a cherry Coke.

“Billy, I’m back,” you told him joyously as you got to his car.

Billy opened your door for you and you got in with the tray. Deciding not to tell him about the encounter with Karen you would just enjoy the night instead. She was not worth the energy.

“Well, doll, this looks great. Movies starting.”

Billy leaned over and kissed you. When the opening song sequence started, you sang along and ate some popcorn drinking your Dr Pepper as Billy drank some cherry coke. He added a bit of vodka to each of your sodas and put a finger to his lips as he laughed softly.

By the time they had made it to the sequence of Meatloaf's last scene, you and Billy had finished devouring the popcorn and were working on the candy as he sang along to Meatloaf's part. Being close to him like this and having a date night was something you imagined happening, even in your wildest dreams. He knew every word of every song, and it was like he was your perfect match.

“Billy, I think tonight has been wonderful,” you told him excitedly as you leaned on close leaning your head against his shoulder, lacing your fingers with his, and holding hands.

“Me too, sweetheart. It's been great. The movie, the snacks, but you the most.”

Both of you were done with your liquor sodas now and feeling the buzz. It was great to be drinking and spending time with Billy enjoying the movie. Of all the guys in town, Billy had his certain charm and charisma. Sure, Eddie and Steve were great, but Billy was, too. As Frank N Furter was singing about returning to his home planet again, you and Billy were moving to the beat and singing a bit wasted but feeling good.

The movie got better with every watch but seeing it at the cinemas instead of on VHS was just a different feeling. Nothing could compare to watching a movie on a big screen. Billy was the life of the party usually, and tonight was no different for him. In a way, he had stolen your heart. Of anyone you could be with tonight, you were so glad it was with Billy.

“Princess, you wanna go somewhere after this?”

“I don't think you should drive Billy. How about a nearby hotel?” You suggested trying to sound alluring as you put your hand on his thigh squeezing it.

Billy's lips crashed against yours and pulled you onto his lap, pinning you down and growling.

“Fuck. Sounds like the best idea ever.”

You took some condoms out of your pocket showing him you had protection.

“I have some too in my wallet, but not here.”

“Billy, I'm a virgin,” you admitted.

“I figured as much. I haven't been with anyone in about a month. I’ll show you clean tests.”

Reaching into his glove compartment he pulled the papers out letting you look at them as he lit up a cigarette and inhaled slowly blowing the smoke outside the window. As you looked through the papers, you nodded. He was honest, which was a good thing, and he was clean.

“I’ve done stuff though, and I got tested recently.”

You took out the papers from your purse showing him. Billy glanced at them and nodded, smiling. The movie would soon be over and no doubt as the credits rolled, a big crowd would be trying to leave the outdoor theater grounds. As the last song started, you made a suggestion.

“Now we should go to that hotel.”

Billy nodded, planning to pick a nice hotel. Somewhere upscale for his date and girl, not some dinky motel room. Typically, Billy wouldn’t be with virgins, but he had strong feelings toward you. As Billy drove, you sang along to the song Painkiller by Judas Priest called Touch of Evil. There wasn't much talking as Billy drove, but the feeling of excitement was palpable in the air.

When he parked he opened your door, going with you to get a room paying for the night, and getting the keys. Soon you were in the hotel room with Billy. Deciding to bring inside the red roses he had gotten for you earlier, you took them to the bed putting some rose petals on it, and then taking some to the bathroom.

“Billy, can we take a bath first?”

“Of course, beautiful.”

As you filled the tub you put some rose petals into the water and some bubble bath before removing your wig. You felt grateful to be there with him and you had even brought some sexy lingerie with you, wanting to wear it for him tonight. The hotel room was nice and even better than you expected it to be. When the tub was full you sunk into the water with Billy getting into the water soon after.

“This feels nice, Billy so warm and relaxing and I’m so glad to be here with you.”

“Me too. I like your company and we are good together, I think. The movie was fun.”

As Billy washed you up you sighed happily, closing your eyes. The soap smelled like French vanilla. He was tender with you and washed you up nicely. He was the best and just a true romantic at heart. Most people in Hawkins had the wrong idea about Billy. Even if you didn’t see him again after tonight, you wouldn’t regret this or anything with him.

“I think everything with you is fun, Billy. Now I want to wash you.”

“That's a great idea, doll.”

Billy had such a beautiful body and physique. His cock was so big, veiny, and girthy. You washed his upper body first taking your time with the wash cloth and making sure he enjoyed every moment of this bath.

“Your hands are so nice. I’m glad you came here with me. It was a pleasant surprise and you wanted to come here. No complaints, though.”

“Thank you, Billy. I just wanted to spend some quality time alone, and at least we can be alone here.”

Billy nodded and gasped as you reached his legs your hand brushing over his cock before you washed it too making him buck his hips and groan softly. After you finished washing him, you leaned against his chest relaxing in the water. When the water was lukewarm, you got out to dry off and give him a good view of your ass.

“Let's just relax and watch a little TV maybe,” Billy suggested as you were all dried off now and brushing your teeth.

“Maybe we could find a movie on TV.”

As you went to the bed, you bounced on it, feeling happy as he turned on the TV. You went to your purse getting out the pink and purple trim lingerie with material made of silk and lace. Billy eyed you as you put it on and he settled on the movie Caligula. There was an orgy unfolding on screen, and to say you were intrigued was an understatement. The movie starred Malcolm Mcdowell and Helen Mirren but some parts were downright pornographic.

“You look so sexy wearing that, gorgeous,” Billy boasted as he removed his towel and got into bed.

The sheets were soft and you were glad everything looked clean. Turning on the bedside lamp to a low setting, you cuddled in next to Billy trying to enjoy the movie. Billy leaned in kissing you as another sex scene unfolded on screen.

"Billy, I want you to fuck me. Get the condoms," you requested, sounding desperate.

"My needy little thing. You want me to fuck you, huh? I love the sound of that."

He took out a condom and unwrapped it with his teeth before tossing the wrapper aside. He stroked himself trying to get hard.

"I'll help with that."

You straddled his leg and sucked the tip of his cock and then kissed along his shaft. He hissed as your mouth was on his cock.

"Sit on my face, doll," he commanded as he grabbed your ass, squeezing it.

You positioned yourself so you were straddling his face. He moved the lingerie slip up your body so he could get good access to your pussy. Wasting no time he went to work fingering and sucking your clit as you bobbed your head on his cock making him gasp and work in sync to get each other off.

"Mm, fuck doll your mouth is perfect. Such a good girl for me," Billy praised you in between licks and thrusts with his fingers inside.

As your warm mouth pleased him, Billy felt like he was in pure heaven and he knew if he kept going like this much longer with you then he wouldn't last as long. He slapped your ass as you took him as deep as you could, mouth-watering. Your pussy clenched his fingers and tongue as he ate you out, causing you to make lewd noises around his cock.

"I want you to fuck me now, doll."

You popped off his cock and maneuvered so you were hovering above his cock, condom in hand now, wrapping it around his thick shaft. Once it was on, you sank onto his cock slowly, inch by agonizing inch until he was filling you up to the hilt.

"Oh fuck, Billy, you are so big."

Your first time fucking a man and you were on top. No less with Billy Hargrove. It was all you wanted and pure bliss.

"Mm baby, you feel so tight. Fuck, I love this pussy already."

Billy's lips clashed against yours as he let you adjust to him fully. Giving him no warning you thrust yourself on his cock and bit his lips as he ferally grunted and you moaned against his lips- tongues tangling and you tugged on his wavy locks of hair as you looked deeply into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“I love your big cock. Billy fuck me harder please!” You pleaded to want him to fuck you as he pleased.

“Anything for you, babe.”

Billy was thrusting his hips establishing a steady pace as he filled you to the brim with his cock his balls slapping erratically as he grabbed your hips tightly. You pleased yourself by using your fingers and rubbing harsh circles on your clit. Fucking him felt sensual and as your tongue wrapped around his cock, gasps escaped his mouth and your lips elicited airy groans of pure bliss causing Billy to bounce you faster on his cock.

“Oh fuck yes, Billy, give me that big cock!” You seductively moaned as he gave into your desires and request picking the pace up his hands now on your ass kneading it as you sucked on his neck causing him to growl in animalistic fury.

Now that your wish to fuck Billy and lose your virginity to him was coming true, you were intending on making this one of the best sexual awakenings. The TV was still on but neither of you was paying any attention as you fucked each other senseless. Embracing passionately and being skin-on-skin. Even with the condom as a barrier, his cock felt incredible inside and you could feel it in your belly.

You had never moaned this loudly before or cried out like Billy was making you and you were feeling like you were on top of the world. The pain had lessened from him being inside and like the perfect gentleman, Billy got you wet with foreplay before fucking you. Telling people in the future you had lost your virginity to Billy and fucked him hard was going to be a story you would tell for a long time.

“Yeah, that's right. Gonna fuck this pussy until you cum. Baby, I’m getting close. Fuck! Please tell me you are too.” He grunted as he slowed his thrusts, trying to draw out his impending orgasm wanting to prolong it until you came first.

Closing your eyes you basked in the sensations of his cock and your fingers as you kept up a steady rubbing on your‌ sensitive clit. Panting and holding onto the bed rail, you made the bed shake with your movements on top pinning him to the bed. He pistoned his hips and gyrated running his fingers over your erect nipples, pinching them and earning pretty cries from your lips.

“Yes, Billy I’m gonna cum!” You keened as you tilted your head back and scratched his chest leaving imprints with your nails.

Billy’s kisses stifled your cries as he spanked your clit and fucked into you harder, causing waves of orgasm to wash over you. He maneuvered so you were underneath him, wrapping your legs around him as his balls became full of cum and his cock leaked pre-cum inside the condom. Any moment now he would cum and you couldn’t wait to have all his cum.

“Where should I cum?”

“Over my chest. Please!” You whined.

Billy thrust three more times before pulling out and removing the condom stroking his cock as he painted your chest, tits, and nipples with his seed. Reaching for Kleenex, he cleaned you up and lay down next to you for cuddles.

“Thank you Billy for my first time.”

“You got it doll.”

You fell asleep enraptured in his arms soon after.

You wanted to go over to Nancy’s and tell her the good news. She would be so happy for you to lose your virginity. When she lost hers, she was over the moon about it. Barb was surely at Nancy’s already since you had a movie night to see the newest John Hughes movie, Pretty In Pink. Arriving at Nancy’s you were greeted by Karen.

“Hi, Karen.”

“Excuse me what did you call me?”

“Karen. That's your name, isn't it? Look, I know you have had a thing for Billy for a while now. I know your game and what you are up to. Stay away from him and stay away from the Hawkins pool. He's mine.”

“I don't know what you are talking about.”

“I’m trying to play nice but you have a family and kids. If you don't want them to know about how you feel about Billy, then back off.”

With a startled look on her face, she stood there baffled before you marched off into Nancy’s room. She could think what she wanted. Let her think you had sex with Billy. Maybe she didn't know and thought you hadn't fucked him. Either way, you were so beyond done with her.

Now in Nancy’s room, you saw Barb and Nance spread out on the bed with snacks, watching previews for the movie. Sitting down in between them you grabbed some popcorn and a Dr. Pepper.

“So how was your time with Chrissy and Robin last weekend?” Barb asked curiously.

“It was nice, but I finally slept with Billy. He asked me out to the movies, then we did it at a hotel.”

“That's a big deal. You feel any different now?” Barb asked curiously as Nancy looked at you with wide eyes.

“It was good. It hurt at first, but I liked it.”

“Okay but what about with Robin and Chrissy did anything happen?” Nancy demanded.

You crossed your arms getting defensive with her now.

“I hooked up with them. We had a threesome.”

Barb looked a bit shocked as Nancy’s expression turned glum.

“Are you kidding me? I thought I told you I had feelings for Robin,” Nancy spat out bitterly.

“That was over a year ago. You are with Jonathan,” you shot back.

Nancy rolled her eyes and glared at you.

“Don't take that tone with me. You know what you should leave. You broke the girl code.”

Getting up you looked to Barb who looked down on the floor after she mouthed ‘sorry.’

“Fine, I’ll leave.”

“I just don't want to see you right now,” Nancy told you with a huff.

You got up to leave, with Barb following behind you. Out of earshot now, you looked at her with anger in your eyes.

“Just give Nance some time to calm down. She’ll get over it.”

“I hope.”

You hugged each other before you left making sure to flip Karen off on your way out.

Chapter 8 Eddie Munson x fem reader Let's put the x in sex.

Nsfw warnings: anal play, rimming, usage of toys, strap-on, pegging, anal sex.

After you go out with Eddie to a barbeque, you end the night with some fun at your place. Eddie suggests you try something new and have a night filled with passion and new firsts.

The next week, you spent home relaxing, working, and staying away from Nancy. You didn’t want to pursue Robin, but Nancy didn’t care. Barb had called to tell you that Nancy and Jonathan had broken up. If she wouldn't apologize, then you wouldn’t either.

Karen had stopped showing up at the local pool, which was fine with you. You would talk to Billy and Steve at the pool sometimes, but you didn’t go on any more dates with them. Eddie was your next pursuit, and you couldn’t wait to be with him on a date soon. He promised to play a new song for you– acoustic– at an upcoming town barbeque.

The day of the bbq, you got ready and hoped there wouldn’t be any weird tension if Barb and Nancy were there. It would be nice to see Eddie, though. Eddie was meeting you there, and you dressed nice but comfortable. You chose a black leather skirt, a Corroded Coffin tank top, and platform boots with a black denim battle jacket.

Once you complete your look with platform red heels and fishnets, you put on makeup: smokey eyeshadow and eyeliner, black lipstick. Eddie wouldn’t know what hit him. Earlier that week, you had bought more toys at the sex store, including a strap-on, since you had so much fun using it with Robin and Chrissy.

What Eddie didn’t know yet was that you were anal training and had already gone up another size with your butt plugs. Not only that, but you had bought glass and rubber dildos of bigger sizes and you used them on your ass. You could even get yourself off and cum just by anal penetration.

When you arrived at the barbeque, you got cold water and met up with Eddie. When you found him by his van, he was smoking a cigarette. Embracing you in a hug you breathed in his scent. Soon you had plates of food, including ribs, steak, potato salad, and pasta salad. For dessert, there would be s’mores.

He looked so sexy wearing his cutoff ripped black jeans, a Metallica tank top, and combat boots. Eddie always knew how to look heavy metal. And his Dio vest was present like usual, one of his favorite battle jackets.

“I’m glad you came, sweetheart. I’m just glad I can see a familiar face. My friends bailed on me.”

“Me too Eddie. I’m not friends with Nancy at the moment. Don’t ask though. It's a long story and she and Jonathan broke up recently.”

“That sucks. Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

He ate some pasta salad and wiped his mouth with a napkin as you opted to eat some potato salad. The food was good, and the town barbeque was off to a good start and would be a big hit with the townsfolk. There were burning questions on your mind but you would ask Eddie them when the time was right.

“I’m okay, Eddie. I wish I had my best friend again. Barb’s been great though.”

“I understand. Look, you are amazing and Nancy will come to her senses.”

He reached out taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. The way he touched you and looked at you with his doe-brown eyes practically made you melt on the spot. Weeks ago you had his dick in your mouth and now you were enjoying a bbq together.

You finished your food with small talk and then got the supplies for making s’mores just as it got dark. The night would hopefully only get better, and Eddie was being so nice. You couldn't help but look at his ringed fingers as he twirled the marshmallow over the open campfire.

“You roast marshmallows pretty well princess.”

“Thanks, Eddie. I try.”

He put his arm around your shoulder as you roasted your marshmallows to golden brown and blew out the flame. You arranged the graham crackers and the chocolate on your plate and made your s’more. Trying it you chewed thoughtfully. Eddie tried it and was licking his lips after a big bite.

“You have some on your face, Eddie!” You playfully joked before licking it off.

Eddie smiled pulling you in for a gooey and chocolate s’more filled kiss. Your tongues tangled and when you broke free of the kiss, breathless. You continued to eat your s’mores hand-feeding each other. The joy didn’t last any longer because you saw Nancy there with Robin flirting shamelessly as they drank from their blue solo cups.

“Nancy’s here. Great.”

Eddie looked up and frowned.

“What do you say we get out of here?”

“I won't possibly object to that, Eddie.”

He took your hand leading you to his van. Once you were inside, he started his engine and the familiar sound of Corroded Coffin's new song Apocalyptic came on.

“Where to, sweetheart?”

“My house. I have the place all to myself tonight.”

Eddie leaned over kissing you again and squeezed your thigh.

“Sounds perfect.”

He began the drive to your place as the moon and stars came out in full view in the near distance. Hopefully, he'd play his acoustic guitar for you tonight. You wanted nothing more than that.

“You gonna play your guitar for me, metalhead?”

“Of course, sweetheart. I can't wait to.”

He put the pedal to the metal to arrive at your place sooner, making you giggle. Soon he arrived parking in your driveway and turning off the engine. Once you got inside, he brought his guitar to your couch as you turned on a lamp and sat next to him.

As Eddie strummed his guitar tuning it up, you leaned in close and kissed him. He soon started playing Apocalyptic, and you were all smiles as he put all his passion and everything he had into one of his favorite Corroded Coffin songs. His voice was incredible, and the instrumental parts were just as good. His fingers and rings as he played the notes looked so strong and you admired his movements on the fretboard.

“Eddie, you are amazing!”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

He kissed you pulling gently on the guitar pick necklace he had gifted you. His fingers twined with yours, his finger brushing lightly over the mood ring he had given you that you were wearing on your middle finger. You hadn't taken it off since he put it on you that night at Hawkins Pool after the concert.

“Wanna take a shower?” You suggested.

“Hell yeah.”

Getting up you made your way to the shower with Eddie turning on the warm water and undressing before getting in slowly. The water felt amazing, and you were all over Eddie kissing and touching him, grabbing your chest and you grabbed his cock as you teasingly jerked him off with the washcloth. Getting on your knees you finished washing him before he washed you.

“Mm, that feels so good, Eddie. I want to do something different tonight.”

“Different how? I’m up for almost anything.”

“Anal. I want you to be my first for that, if you are clean, I mean.”

He was on his knees cleaning your pussy and ass as he looked up at you with wide doe eyes.

“I am. I would like to be your first for that.”

Standing up, he kissed you and grabbed your ass, kneading your cheeks.

“Yeah? Great. I also wanted to know if you would be interested in pegging.”

“I could try. Believe it or not, I haven’t tried that yet.”

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly as you smile, a wicked grin on your face. He was so sexy. Eddie didn’t even have to try, he just was. Turning off the water you grabbed a towel and dried off, wiggling your ass and bent over for him.

“Shit sweetheart, stop teasing me. Do you mean you have a strap-on?”

“I bought one recently, and it's rubber, also purple.”

“Let's try it. Guess it's only fair if I fuck your ass, then you fuck mine.”

He chuckled softly as he dried off and shook his head like a wet dog as he dried his wavy locks with a small towel. You brushed your hair and batted your lashes at him as you looked into the mirror. Eddie came up from behind you wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tightly to him with his towel still wrapped around his waist.

“I’ll show you my toys. Come on.”

Taking his hand you led him to your room, lit some vanilla candles, and turned on the lamp close to your bed. You opened your top drawer revealing condoms, lube, and your collection of toys including your anal training kit of butt plugs.

“I’m up to the largest butt plug size now.”

“I’m impressed, princess. The strap-on looks great. I’d say 8 inches.”

“It is. I want to fuck you first if that's okay.”

Eddie looked happily surprised as his cheeks turned red. Removing the towel he wrapped it over your door and walked back over to you.

“Should I get down on all fours?”

“Yes. And I want you to get all lubed up for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He teased as he gave you a salute.

With Eddie's face down and ass up, you got out the lube and rubbed it over the strap-on cock, getting it ready for him. Putting on gloves you put lube on the fingers and entered his ass. Eddie shivered in anticipation as you filled him up with three fingers and moved them inside.

“Oh, fuck yes, that feels magnificent.”

“Your ass is so tight.”

Noticing his cock hardening you smiled with delight. Soon satisfied, you threw the gloves away into your trash can and lined the fake cock up at his entrance.

“You ready Eddie?”

“Yes. Fuck me, please.”

You wanted nothing more than to fuck his ass and enter him. Eddie wanted it badly, and his ass was gorgeous. Even though you weren’t together, you were having fun with whatever it was you were to each other. Not having a label on it was fine too, as long as you were enjoying yourself and Eddie, for that matter, nothing else was important.

Tapping the fake cock as his ass’s entrance you teased his puckered hole with it. His entrance was slick from the lube you used with your gloved fingers, and his ass was yours for the taking.

“Stop teasing me, sweetheart. Please stop.”

“I’ll give it to you good, Eddie.” You promised him as you slide into him.

“Fuck yes, keep going!”

Bottoming out inside of Eddie you fucked him slowly going at a nice steady pace. Eddie groaned at you and gripped the bed sheets below him tightly. Putting your foot on the bed to get a better angle you pounded into his ass as he stroked his cock.

“Oh shit magnificent!” Eddie boasted, crying out and looking back at you.

“Tell me how sexy I look pounding your ass, Eddie.” You ordered him as he looked into the big vanity mirror you had watching you fuck him and watching you thrust away, your breasts swinging and bouncing as you claimed his ass as yours.

“You look sexy, princess. So hot.”

He stroked his cock to full hardness, and his cock was a work of art. Already you were looking forward to your turn and having Eddie fuck your ass for the first time. It would be sexy as hell and erotic. Everything you wanted and imagined, but even more.

“Oh, fuck Eddie, your ass is so tight!” You praised him loving what a good boy he was for you as you listened to his pretty gasps as he stroked his cock.

“Yes, I love you riding my ass and mounting me!”

You rubbed his prostate massaging it as you thrust harder into him. Eddie’s cock looked so beautiful and you were having the time of your life fucking him. If he asked you to do this again in the future, you wouldn’t object.

“Yes, so good for me. I bet you want to fuck me too though, huh, get inside my ass with your hard cock as your balls get heavy with cum and your cock leaks pre-cum.” You teased him and slapped his nice peach ass and fucking him harder before stopping abruptly inside him.

“Yes, please, I need it. My cock is aching to fuck you. Please!” He begged as you massaged his balls and continued your ministrations on his prostate, giving him pleasure there.

After more lingering moments of fucking his ass, you stopped again and pulled out. Changing positions with Eddie on the bed you reached for your favorite glass dildo with a pink heart on the end of it handing it to him.

“Mm, I can’t wait to use that on you. Can I eat your ass out too, sweetheart?”

“Sur,e Eddie. I’d love to have you do that to me.”

He spread your legs wide, mouth watering as he spread your puckered hole and inserted his tongue. Kneeling on the floor he licked your hole soon going deep and good inside your puckered entrance. It felt incredible and the sensations were some of the best you had ever felt. Tugging his air as he feasted upon your ass you let out the prettiest sounds of pleasure.

“Oh yes, Eddie fuck! Use my toy please!”

Eddie licked your hole for a few long lingering moments, then wiped his mouth and replaced his tongue with the glass dildo.

“You taste amazing. This ass is incredible, princess.”

He gave your ass a good smack as he moved the toy in and out of your tight hole, your ass clenching it like your life depended on it as Eddie watched with rapt fascination. Knowing he was making you feel good brought him so much joy.

“Oh fuck yea! Fuck that ass with the toy! Do it just like that!” You squealed as his rapid thrusts with the toy became faster.

Reaching for some unscented lube, you handed it to Eddie and a bottle of oil.

“This tight hole is so amazing, baby girl. I want to fuck it so bad.”

Stroking himself as he pushed the toy a few more times into your asshole, he took it out and soon oiled up your ass and added some lube to his fingers, inserting them and moved them inside you at a rapid pace.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Yeah, you like that, you dirty girl?!” He chided you before spanking your ass hard.

His cock was rock hard and he was desperate to fuck your tight entrance, not being able to contain himself much longer.

“Yes, I want your cock though. Fuck my little ass!”

“Fuck yes!”

Eddie unwrapped a nearby ribbed for her pleasure condom wrapper taking it out and putting it onto his cock. He teased your entrance tapping his cock against it. Positioning yourself so that you were on all fours now and face down, ass up, Eddie grabbed your hips and positioned himself at your entrance.

“Ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Eddie. Fuck me!”

“With pleasure.”

Eddie filled you up slowly inch by agonizing inch. He let you get adjusted to his cock and your tight hole clamped down hard around it wanting to take every inch of his beautiful, big cock.

“Oh fuck! Such a dirty girl for me.”

“Fuck me already!”

He smacked your ass and fucked into you slowly, making sure you could get adjusted to it and wanted you to enjoy this experience. Making it memorable and giving you pleasure was his main goal. As he rammed into your ass you fingered your clit, moaning and riding him hard as he picked up his pace a little.

“Oh shit, this ass is too fucking good!” He boasted, slapping your ass and fucking you even harder.

“Yes, fuck me! Fuck me!”

Your sounds of pleasure grew louder as he pounded your ass, his balls slapping against it. His smacks on your ass stung a little and the feeling of his cock inside your ass took some adjusting to, but even with this intense pressure, it was enjoyable still. Fingering your clit felt even better heightening the sensations combined with the feeling of your ass being full.

“So fucking tight, love your ass, my dirty slut. Fuck yes! Clenches around my cock perfectly. It's the best!” He boasted groaning as he pistoned his hips, fucking you hard.

As his balls slapped against your ass and he pounded away, he left marks on your hips as he held tightly onto them almost hard enough to leave a mark. His cock was addicting and you could barely contain yourself as you moaned louder than you ever have in your life from the intense thrusts and the way he fucked your ass senseless.

“Yeah, I’m your little fucking slut! Fuck yes!” You cried out beautifully for him as you brought yourself to the edge with your fingers.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum my slutty princess. Where do you want it?” Eddie moaned rutting into you with reckless abandon his balls heavy with cum.

“On my ass.”

Eddie’s thrusts slowed as his cock twitched and he pulled out of your puckered hole, admiring how pink and pretty your ass truly was. Removing the condom he threw it into the trash and edged himself, stroking his cock and cumming all over your ass, painting it white with his cum. Eddie collapsed next to you holding you close.

“You feel alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine Eddie. I loved that. Let's get cleaned up soon. Do you want to stay the night?”

“Of course, beautiful.”

And stay the night he did. It was a nice bath together and you had the best time with him. He cuddled you to sleep being the big spoon. You hoped you could do it again soon.

@eddiemunson-reader-shame @ali-r3n @seatnights @mediocredreams @quinnyficsy

@stranger-things-mania @mrprettywhenhecries @langdonss @kelseyaparker19 @skatazz

@trashmouth-richie @micheledawn1975 @leelei1980 @scarlet-bitch @thepurplelovewitch

@keikoraven @stolen-in-moonlight @lovelythoughtfulcupcake

[youreonyourownkid]

why do i genuinely feel so shitty over a movie right now

[thebearer]

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.” 

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line. 

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket. 

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock. 

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval. 

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one. 

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name? 

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week. 

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself. 

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows. 

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.” 

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window. 

There you were. 

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high. 

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-” 

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it. 

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned. 

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.” 

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone. 

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it. 

From: Richie 

‘Look at table nine.’ 

Sugar huffed. 

To: Richie 

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’ 

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen? 

To: Richie 

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’ 

From: Richie 

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’ 

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end. 

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,” 

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.” 

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced. 

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.  

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-” 

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. 

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge. 

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his. 

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection. 

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.” 

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight. 

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out. 

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing. 

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face. 

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded. 

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.” 

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head. 

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.” 

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-” 

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.” 

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” 

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.” 

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-” 

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered. 

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.” 

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger. 

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time. 

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.” 

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.” 

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl. 

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called. 

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered. 

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.” 

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?” 

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.” 

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?” 

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death.

This story is mostly inspired by Jaybirbie's prompt | Master post | Next?

"Hey, sweetheart?" Danny called, quickly jotting down the last sentence for his paper. He'd have to remember to go back and reread it and make sure he didn't trail off into another tangent. He swears he wasn't this bad at managing his ADHD back in Amity...

"Yes, Danny?" Damian asked, turning back from the door to face him as he scrolled further down the story he was reading. The familiar font of Gotham City's gazette blurred as a picture of Mr. Freeze and Penguin finally loaded. So that's what was going on. Danny should have known; the bats already dealt with the other usual rouges, and these two were next on the list.

"Can you walk with me? I just know Nancy and her boyfriend are out there, waiting. I really don't want to deal with them again... We could spend more time at my place? Tucker sent me another movie, and I'm unsure if I should watch it alone after last time." Danny pleaded, quickly shoving all of his papers into his bag. He'd deal with straightening them out later, it wasn't like his professors weren't used to his wrinkled essays at this point.

However, he should probably redo the blueprints for Workshop. Mr. Anthlow was a hardass, but nothing could compare to his anger when a student handed in wrinkled blueprints; he claimed he wasn't going to have another 'Tanner' incident on his watch, whatever the heck that meant.

He was not looking forward to whatever Nancy wanted to talk to him about, she looked excited. Which could only mean bad things for him; considering the last time she was excited, he ended up spending time with Bane of all people. And there was no way her boyfriend was just going to let Danny get away again.

Damian grimaces, finally looking up and away from his phone. "I'm sorry beloved..." he held up the device just in time to show an incoming text from his Father, "I promised Father I'd be home a while ago. And with what's happening down on-"

"It's ok, I'll just head out the back door," Danny cut in, seeing the start of guilt on his boyfriend's face. He knew how much Danny hated having to deal with those two, and the fact Damian hasn't been able to even introduce himself to them hasn't helped. With a smile, Danny scooped up his textbooks and made his way to stand in front of Damian, "They can't bother me if they don't see me!"

Unsurprisingly, Danny could feel the guilt grow and start to float around Damian as the boy glanced at his phone, the message tone sounding out again in warning.

Danny only met Damian's father once; it was just a simple shake of hands and sharing names before the man ran off, but it did leave an impression. The man felt tired and paranoid; like, to the point Danny kind of wanted to drag Jazz over and lock the two of them in a room, paranoid. (Danny wants to say he's never seen someone that paranoid, but he'd be lying. He looks in the mirror after all.)

The point is; Danny's only met the man once, but that was enough for him to know that the man would tear down the world if he thought for even a second that one of his kids was in danger. This meant, that if Damian didn't go and reassure his father that he was alive and safe within the next sixty or so seconds, then there was a possibility that there wouldn't be another date for at least another week.

And considering this "study date" was supposed to make up for the last one Damian had missed because of his Father? Yeah, Danny wasn't going to be happy if Damian got grounded or dragged into another 'surprise' family road trip because his father was convinced his children would be dead before the 'yearly' planned get-together in November.

They had a trip to the zoo planned for tomorrow, and Delilah was supposed to be allowed out with her kids. This would be Delilah's first public outing since her kids' birth. There's no way Danny was going to allow Damian to miss that. (he swears to the ancients, if there was a rouge attack he was going to kill someone, Dark Dan's future be damned.)

Lifting his heels off the ground so he could stand on his tiptoes, Danny snagged Damian's arm and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. "I'll get home safe, just focus on keeping your dad from going insane. We've got a date at the zoo tomorrow and we're not missing it even if your father becomes the next city rogue."

Damian wrapped his arms around Danny, trapping him in a hug as he sighed in fond frustration. "I promise I won't miss it, ok? I'll be there."

Danny rolled his eyes and pushed Damian back, dropping back to stand on the ground, "You better, 'cause hell hath no fury like a gorilla denied the chance to meet her human best friend's boyfriend."

Damian snorted, before looking away and pretending to cough. Danny moved his textbooks to rest more securely in one of his arms, so he could point at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, if I show up tomorrow and tell her all about my life and you're not there, she will break out and track you down. I won't stop her either, you'd deserve whatever she does to you."

"Alright, alright. I get it, and I already promised I'd be there didn't I?" Damian chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender. Which would have been cute if it wasn't for the fact that his phone went off again, this time in an insistent buzzing. His eldest brother's ringtone; which meant Damian was going to be busy for a while.

Cursing, Damian turned and answered, "I'm in the middle of something, this better be important Grayson," glancing back at Danny, he mouthed for him to wait a moment as his brother started talking.

Smiling, Danny shook his head, snatched Damian's jacket, and started making his way out the door. There was no way Damian would finish this phone call any time soon. Danny's learned not to wait after the last four times this happened. Damian turned back with betrayed eyes, but the urgent voice of his brother buzzing even louder held him back. Waving goodbye with a smile, Danny shut the door and started making his way down the hall.

He'd have to ask Damian what happened tomorrow, Grayson didn't usually call him, especially when he knew Damian was spending time with Danny. He said it had something to do with how it was sacrilege to interrupt time spent with a significant other. Danny had wanted to ask him more about it but hadn't gotten the chance when The Riddler crashed their spontaneous meeting.

Speaking of The Riddler, Danny's social science paper wasn't looking too hot right now. He'd have to block out a time for him to work on that at some point this week. He wasn't doing anything on Friday, well, besides his early morning classes. That should work...

"Hey, Danny!" someone called, pulling him out of his musing. Glancing up, Danny internally groaned when he noticed Nancy waving at him in sheer delight. Giving her a half-hearted wave, Danny sped up and continued making his way to the back of the library. If he was quick enough maybe he could-

To his dismay, Nancy's boyfriend stepped out from behind one of the shelves and latched onto his arm. Tightly.

Just great, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Curse his inability to pay attention when he got lost in thought. Damn ADHD. Blasted non-existent spatial awareness. This was what he got for relying on his ghost sense, he just knows it.

"She said hi, kind of rude of you to just keep walking, Kid." Wyatt huffed, roughly dragging Danny back and towards his girlfriend. Nancy smiled brightly as Wyatt let him go, allowing Nancy to weave her arm with Danny's and practically drag him toward the front of the building.

"There's this big party going on tonight, some Jr invited us. He said it was going to be a night to remember! You should totally come with us, Danny! My friend Shela said she was bringing her nerdy freshmen too! I just know you'd fit right in with them!" Nancy squealed excitedly, shaking Danny as they finally made it to the front doors.

One of the desk attendants rolled their eyes at them as Danny glanced over, hoping that Barbara might intervene. No such luck, she was nowhere in sight, probably off somewhere shelving books. So much for that plan.

"uh, thanks, but I already-" Danny tried, stopping when Nancy scoffed and yanked him out the door and into the frosty night. "Damn, it's cold!" Wyatt cursed, taking his jacket off and quickly handing it over to Nancy. She let go of Danny and pulled it on, then stared at Danny for a moment, "Put your coat on Danny, no way in hell am I letting my kid catch a cold!"

Rolling his eyes, Danny wrapped Damian's coat over his shoulders. He was too lazy to actually put it on, not when that meant handing his textbooks over. The last time he did that, Nancy got bored and started doodling all over them. (how she had managed to do that in the little time it took to put a hoodie on, Danny wasn't sure.)

"I just want to go home, Nancy. I'm not really a party person." Danny sighed, allowing Nancy to drag him down the dark streets. His apartment was in this general direction anyway. Nancy turned to her boyfriend with a huff, "Wyatt! make him come with us!"

"Let the nerd do what he wants, it's not like it affects us if he kicks the bucket all alone," Wyatt grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ouch, but true. Please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen-

"But Shela said she was bringing Carly!" Nancy turned back to Danny, a pout clear on her face, "You two would be so cute together! she's nerdy just like you! And she's totally into all those murder mystery shows you watch!"

Damn it. Not this crap again.

"That's nice, Nancy, but I'm not interested. I already told you guys, I have a boyfriend," Danny sighed, trying to gently extract his arm from hers; for a human, Nancy sure had one heck of a grip.

"Yeah, right," Wyatt snorted, patting Danny's back, completely ignoring the fact that Danny was literally wearing someone else's jacket. "We'll believe you when you introduce us, until then. You're a virgin loser."

And there we go, people; the reason Danny wanted to crawl into the sewer and die whenever he saw these two. They were nice, don't get him wrong, but they were also stubborn idiots.

"Being a virgin has nothing to do with my relationship status, Wyatt. I'm ace. you've known this since the first time we talked." Danny grumbled, allowing Nancy to drag him down another street. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going now, but he was too tired to care at this point.

If these self-claimed 'Parents' of his wanted to drag him to this stupid party, then fine. Whatever. It's not like Danny had any other plans tonight anyway.

"Asexuality isn't a thing man," Wyatt huffed, speeding up so he could guide them in the right direction now that they were heading into a rougher patch of buildings. Danny could see the man was shivering, though trying to act tough in front of Nancy. Smirking, Danny sent a cold breeze his way. The man scowled up at the sky, cursing quietly.

"Yeah!" Nancy agreed, smiling brightly down at Danny without a care in the world. Like they didn't have this conversation every other week. "You just haven't met the right person yet, Danny! And I know how awkward it is to admit that you're staying celibate until marriage, but you don't have to hide it behind being ace."

Taking a deep breath, Danny closed his eyes and focused on not shouting out of frustration. The celibate comment was new, the acephobia, not so much. "Ok, first of all; Asexuality is a thing, which many people ARE. Literally, 1% of the world is ace. That's over 70 million people. Second of all, I'm not celibate, and I'm not sure if you even know what that means, considering you know I was raised Atheist."

"What does being an Atheist have to do with celibacy?" Nancy asked, tilting her head to look at him. Danny groaned, smacking his forehead against his textbooks. He was NOT going to explain this to them tonight.

"You know what, Nancy? It doesn't matter." Danny huffed, trying again to gently pry her hands off. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to go back to Amity. Maybe go to the realms and play with Cujo. He did NOT want to deal with these idiots.

Wyatt stopped walking and turned to face them, rolling his eyes as Nancy pouted at Danny. "Come on babe, let the loser go. He obviously doesn't appreciate your efforts."

"but who else is going to convince him to live a little? He's just going to go back to his apartment and sulk by himself!" Nancy cried, tightening her grip again.

"Who cares what the kid does, Nancy? let the dude die a virgin loser. Now let's go, we're already late as is."

"But I really want him to-," Nancy tried, cutting herself off, as both she and Danny spotted a cloaked person appear out of the shadows behind Wyatt.

Wyatt lifted his brow before slowly turning to see what the two of them were staring at. The cloaked figure suddenly whacked him over the head with a metal pole before he could fully turn around. Wyatt's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, making Nancy scream, "Wyatt!"

Shit, Danny stepped back, trying to pull Nancy with him as the cloak dude tossed the metal pole to the side with a loud clank. Which was confusing, why would he through away his weapon?

"Shut her up!" the cloak dude cried, bending down to grab Wyatt's arms. He better not be telling Danny to do that, because that would just be stupid and- Suddenly, a dozen more cloaked people flooded out of the darkness and surrounded them. That answered Danny's questions at least.

Danny tensed up as a couple of the people tried to grab onto him. Quickly pulling Nancy back, successfully this time, Danny glanced around to try and find an exit. He couldn't do anything crazy right now, not unless he wanted to give away his secret, but some self-defense should be fine.

Nancy suddenly let go of his arm and smacked one of the cloaked people in the face, "Don't you fucking dare touch me! Wyatt! Kid, get out of here!"

Danny turned to her in alarm, eyes wide in horror as she quickly disappeared into the cloaked crowd. Another cloaked person managed to latch onto Danny's shoulder, reminding him to focus on his situation. Quickly stepping back, he slammed into the man grabbing him, knocking his grip loose. Ducking under another attempt, Danny swung out his leg and tripped the dude into two others.

Twisting to try and make his way over to where he figured Nancy was, Danny dropped his textbooks and punched someone in the face. Damian's jacket was yanked off his shoulders, making him turn with a growl. Punching another person in the face, Danny lunged at the group.

"Hurry! before the bats find us!" the supposed leader cried, making even more cloaked people surround Danny. There was no way a normal civilian would be able to fight their way out of this, so Danny would have to allow himself to be caught soon. Only after biting and scratching the fuck out of them though. Just because he had to let them catch him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

~30 min later

Danny stared at the leader as the man droned on and on about needing the right sacrifice for the ritual to work. Nancy and Wyatt grumbled behind him, agreements from the other kidnapped victims filling Danny's ears like bees.

"The sacrifice shall be the one who treads the veil between life and death, the one who's beloved by the spirits as their own! He shall be pale as a corpse, his body kissed by death many times throughout his life. His hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, cradled by the moon since birth." Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem droned on dramatically, reverently dragging his finger down the old dusty tome's page,

"so Mr. Wayne?" Nancy huffed, pressing her back into Danny's side. Wyatt chuckled, shoving his foot into Danny's knee, "No, it's totally Mr. Drake he's talking about. Have you seen that dude's eyebags? they make him look like a ghost."

One of the strangers leaned over, rolling their eyes, "No, it's got to be Mr. Dent. The dude's literally half living half not."

"No, Two-Face is half insane, half burnt chicken. Ain't nothing about him going to please ghosts. He was a fucking lawyer, for Christ shake." another guy added.

"the dude said 'he' which crossed out half of y'all," Danny added, glancing at the group around him. The women blinked and then rolled their eyes; only in Gotham would they get kidnapped and not actually be needed.

"Assholes," Nancy huffed, she glanced over her shoulder and down at him, her face set into a frown, "You good, kid? you're like freezing cold."

"I'm fine," Danny huffed, focusing back on the leader. He could just feel the old magic rolling off the book; this was something dangerous, especially in this dipshit's hands. Ancients, he was going to have to do everything he could to keep the man from actually doing the ritual or mess it up if the bats didn't get here in time.

One of the cloaked people suddenly dragged a camera out from a side room, grumbling about networks and livestreams being shit. Huh, well that would definitely help provide their location to the bats. They must be really inexperienced cultists then...

"The sacrifice shall fall into our hands by fate's design. The sacrifice is here and waiting for what his whole life was meant for. Now-"

"Elder!" one of the other cloaked figures cried, waving their phone in the air in excitement. Dread quickly filled Danny's stomach.

"All the bats and birds are busy dealing with those scoundrels they call rouges! If we hurry, we can complete the ritual before they can interfere!"

"Perfect!" Mr. 'Elder', cheered, slamming the tome closed and handing it off to one of the others. "So?" Mr. Elder started, turning to face them with a sharp grin, "Who's it going to be?"

Danny glanced at the group behind him, all of them having gone silent as the cloaked group started pulling out their ritual things, one of which was a very blood-stained knife.

Mr. Elder started circling them, humming and hawing as he studied each one of them. He stopped next to Wyatt, studying him intently.

Quickly weighing his options, Danny straightened up and glared at the man, "I'll be your sacrifice."

Immediately Nancy leaned away from him with a gasp, Wyatt's foot dropping to the floor with a thud. "Danny, no!" Nancy hissed, turning her body so she could face him. Danny didn't glance at her, just continued glaring at the cultist. The cult leader laughed, "Well then. So it shall be! You heard the sacrifice, tie him to the chair!"

With everyone watching, all Danny could do was tense as four of the followers walked over and pulled him up. "No!" Nancy shouted, leaning over and grabbing onto him. Wyatt reached out to Nancy, wanting to pull her back. The men tensed up, ready to interfere. Quickly pulling back, Danny frowned at Nancy and Wyatt, "I'll be ok, just don't do anything stupid!"

They harshly pulled him up and away again, before Nancy could reply. And because he was already pissed off, he made it as difficult for them as possible as they dragged him to the wooden chair. The camera person focused the lens on them, recording it as they shoved him down to sit and wrapped a bloody rope around his limbs.

So much for thinking they were inexperienced... They've done this before, he knows now. How many times? He wasn't sure, but if he had any say in it after tonight, they'd never do it again.

Once he was securely tied to the chair and gagged, because Danny couldn't help himself but insult them, the cultist started preparing the ritual. Why they hadn't done so beforehand, Danny wasn't sure; that is until one of them sliced a deep gash into his right arm and collected his blood into a bowl.

With a grimace, Danny watched as they mixed his blood with black paint and started drawing a circle around him. The camera dude stepped closer and practically shoved the camera into his face. leaning back, Danny glanced between the camera and the people drawing with his blood.

Suddenly, his arm tingled with ectoplasm, making him panic for a second. he can't heal the wound! not with all the people around him and being recorded! Shit, what had Vlad done last time?? Uh, right! core smothering. He could just smother his core to stop his body from healing. Man, acting like a civilian was a pain in the ass.

Glaring up at the camera now that he wasn't as panicked, Danny watched as the dude stepped back, pulled out a paper, and started reading out loud. "GOTHAM! tonight you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

Did he seriously need the paper just to remember that?

The leader stepped forward when the circle was complete, "Now!" His voice echoed around the silent warehouse, startling the other kidnapped victims. The cameraman turned and focused on him, stepping out of the circle altogether. Danny watched the kidnapped people out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure they weren't hurt during this whole fiasco.

"Let us begin!" the leader cheered, suddenly gripping Danny's shoulders tightly. "Join me as we summon our lord and savior! The great tyrant of the dead! The embodiment of war and bloodshed! The one named PARIAH DARK! THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!!"

Immediately, Danny was both completely terrified and amused. He had been worried that they were going to try and summon some great evil demon, not the fucking old tyrant. He could fight Pariah any day of the week.

No, what terrified him was the fact that because Danny won the right to the crown by defeating Pariah the first time, he had no idea what this summoning was going to do. Was it going to work like they wanted and summon Pariah? cool, great even. He can deal with that, might have to reveal his ghost powers if the fight got dirty, but nothing too bad.

or was it going to summon him because he was the king, and if so? how? Would that even work considering he's the sacrifice? would he just disappear and reappear? This could lead to a lot of questions Danny was NOT ready to answer. Gaslighting everyone here into believing he could fight Pariah as a 'meta' human would be easy, convincing everyone that he's not the ghost king or a ghost AFTER getting summoned; not so easy.

The leader released Danny from his grip as he walked over and snatched the tome from one of his followers. Snapping the book open, the man started chanting without warning, pointing at random people to notify them when it was their turn to start.

It was like watching a school play; all the student's doing as they were taught as their teacher directed from the side. Cultist A slammed the bowl of leftover blood on the ground, splattering the black remnants all over Danny and the circle. Which was gross, Danny was going to have to burn this shirt, because there was no way he was going to get this stain out. Cultist B tossed salt at Danny a few minutes later, smacking him in the face with the small white crystals. Shaking his head, Danny glared at him. Cultist B threw the salt again.

The leader's smile grew as he continued chanting.

Seven other cultists joined in the chanting, waving their hands up and down as their voices echoed around them. Danny glanced nervously around the warehouse, hoping he'd spot one of the bats. This was being broadcast, they should be on their way at the very least.

After another minute of looking, Danny glanced back at the other kidnapped victims. Nancy was balling her eyes out, burying herself into her boyfriend's chest. Wyatt was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure about what to do. Probably feeling guilty because they both knew the leader was going to choose him. A few others were looking away, clearly fearing for his life. The rest watched on, trying to show him through their actions that they were there with him till the end. (whether he 'died' or not)

It was weird, but Danny had to give it to them; Gothmites were badass. He doubted anyone in Amity besides his friends would have been brave enough to watch what was happening. Even if they didn't know if he would live or not.

His core crackled, making him choke a little as he finally felt the pull of the summoning. Well, that's just great. Shaking his head, Danny tried to clear his throat. The summoning was making him feel weird and he did not appreciate it.

The chanting got louder as one of the people walked up to him, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grasp. Danny eyed it wearily, glancing between it and the rafters above. Where the hell were the bats when he needed them???

The cultist kneeled before him and raised the blade, slamming it down into his chest right as the leader stopped chanting; Danny gasped, more out of surprise than pain as he stared at the knife. The dude gave him no warning that he was going to stab him. Usually, cultists slit people's throats, right? What the fuck was up with stabbing him???

His blood slowly bubbled up and around the knife, slowly staining his shirt red. Yeah, there was no way in the realms he was going to be able to save this shirt now. Man, he had liked this one too.

He could hear Nancy's sobs turn to wails as the cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who Danny just now noticed had joined them in the circle. His blood started gushing down his chest with every beat of his heart, again he held back his core. (what does he do now??? faint? scream? how do normal people react to getting stabbed?????)

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!"

Ok, first of all Danny was no where near lowly you piece of fuck-

Danny's core pulsed, sending out nauseating pain up and down his spine. Gasping, Danny leaned as far forward as he could, trying in vain to grasp at his chest without using his powers. His core crackled, striking a blinding flash through his brain. The echoes of his death crawled up his left arm, waking the old dead nerves into firing signals at his brain.

Danny couldn't help himself, he screamed as the pain grew worse and worse. His thoughts turned hazy, his body cold as his core pulsed again. His heart stuttered and then froze, his core flooding his body with freezing ecto not a moment later. Absently, he could feel the wash of ectoplasm crawl over his body, changing his body minutely. He didn't transform, but he definitely looked more ghostly than human.

All the pain disappeared a moment later, allowing Danny to slump forward, his head hanging low and blocking his face from view. His chest did not rise in ragged breaths, nor did his fingers twitch with life. His mind was still sluggish and clouded with something, making it nearly impossible to think. Squeezing his eyes shut, Danny tried to focus.

"Your Highness?" someone asked, their voice too loud as it rang in Danny's ears. His core pulsed, another flood of ectoplasm flooding his body. His eyes slid open again, allowing him to see the green glow lighting up his chest and lap as he stared down at them.

Slowly, Danny lifted his head, his bright green gaze locking with the man in front of him.

Next

[finniestoncrane]

Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3

Different Up Here

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly

If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.

"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"

Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.

"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."

A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.

"Heh, that's a new one for out here."

Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.

"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"

"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."

"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."

You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.

That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.

Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.

"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"

Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.

"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."

You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.

"No, no no no no no. Just..."

The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.

"... fooling around... y'know?"

Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.

"Oh... oh darlin'."

He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.

"I don't think you're ready for that at all."

You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.

"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"

"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"

"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."

Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.

"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."

"Why? Sex is sex..."

You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.

"... Isn't it?"

"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."

The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.

"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."

His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.

"No, sir."

"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"

As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir."

You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.

You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.

And luckily, he seemed agreeable.

"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"

Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.

It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.

"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"

Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.

"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."

His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.

"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."

"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"

Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.

"Well, it's something like this."

He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.

Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.

Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.

"Well?"

"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."

"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"

He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.

"You like that? Like it rough?"

"I think... I think I like both."

"So, something like this?"

He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.

"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."

Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.

"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."

His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.

"Did they make you feel good?"

"No."

You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.

"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"

"A little..."

Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.

"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."

His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.

“And what about these pretty lips?”

Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.

“They touch these lips, huh?”

You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.

“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”

As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.

“Do it slowly though.”

Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.

“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”

You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.

“Turn around though. You face that way.”

The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.

“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”

A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.

The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.

It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.

“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”

His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.

“Don’t you dare, little lady.”

“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”

He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.

“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”

“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”

“I absolutely will not.”

Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.

Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.

“I am warning you, missy.”

“Cooper… I can’t stop…”

You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.

“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”

“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.

“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”

“Cooper…”

“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”

“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”

“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”

The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.

“Come on, darlin’, come on…”

Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.

As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.

“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”

You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.

“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”

As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.

“Alright then, get onto your knees.”

Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.

You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.

It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.

“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”

The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.

He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.

“Can I taste it… you?”

Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.

“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”

You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.

A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way.  Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.

Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.

“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”

He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”

You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.

“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”

It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.

“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”

Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.

He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.

“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”

You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.

Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.

And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.

“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”

He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.

“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”

“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”

“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”

You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.

Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.

“Bigger than before?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.

“Better?”

“Mhm…”

“Speak up, darlin’.”

With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.

“Yes… it’s better.”

“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”

Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.

“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”

“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”

Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.

“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”

You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.

“Ah… Cooper…”

“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.

“A little…”

Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.

His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.

“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.

“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”

You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.

“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”

With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.

“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl…  good girl…”

It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.

And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.

You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.

“Did I say you could get up?”

Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.

“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”

Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.

“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”

Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.

When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.

“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”

“M-more?”

More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.

“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”

[tinytennisskirt]

The Gymnast

College! Art x Patrick x Gymnast! Reader

Summary: (as requested) "college!arttrick with gymnast!reader in which they’re basically pervs with all the stupid questions but she matches their freak and they’re totally stunned would be hot i fear."

the boys sit in on a gymastics practice and the girl they take interest in happens to take the same interest in them.

warnings: mentions of weed. threesome, reader gets fucked by art and pat, fingering, handjob. smut! smut smut smut!

“Dating outside of tennis is a better idea, I’m telling you,” Patrick said as the boys walked down the Stanford sports building halls. The plan was to go play a few indoor games on the court, but the boys being boys, stopped at the cafeteria first, and both of them, eyes bigger than their stomachs, had too many hot dogs and no longer felt much like practicing. Patrick snatched a sheet off of one of the corkboards on the wall. “Girl’s sports.” 

“What am I doing with this?” Art chuckled, taking the list from Patrick.

“What are we doing with this? Finding a sport, going to watch. Something to do. Pick something that isn’t tennis, you know. See some girls doing their thing.” 

Art chuckled, “You don’t think that’s a little weird?” 

“Nah, games are meant to be watched, I’m sure there’s something good going on.” Patrick shrugged, trying to snatch the list back, but Art extended his arm so Patrick couldn’t reach it, grinning. “You pick then.” 

“Pickleball.” Art debated. 

“Too close to tennis, come on. Pick something hotter.” 

“Hotter? Thought you’d like the pickleball skirts.” 

“I do, but they’re just tennis skirts. Give me the list-” he took it from Art’s hand. “Rugby…Could be good, contact, girls on girls…” Art did a half-nod, thinking about it, but then he shook his head no. “Volleyball.” 

“I still have flashbacks from intramurals,” Art said. “Go down to the less popular stuff.” 

“Good idea…” Patrick’s finger trailed down the list. “Fuck yeah. Gymnastics?” 

“Done,” Art agreed. The boys shared the same stupid look on their faces as they looked at which gym the girls gymnastics in and they jogged over like eager little boys whose parents tell them they can get whatever they want from the candy shop. “What are we expecting from this? They don’t have games.” 

“Competition?” Patrick shrugged, pushing the door open. 

The boys spoke in unison, to their dismay, “Practice.” And they could have turned around, and walked out pretending like they just went to the wrong place, but Patrick took a few more steps in and there was no turning back after that, unfortunately.  Art groaned a little, following through, up a few stairs and past where a few other people were hanging out watching the practice. Not too far, but far enough that they could observe all the Stanford gymnasts. The boys took their seats and set their bags down. Patrick kicked his feet up. Art just leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. 

“This was the best decision,” Patrick said a little absentmindedly as he focused in on each girl. “Holy fuck.” 

“Uh huh,” Art agreed again, his gaze falling on all the girls on the mats and the beams, stretching, limbering up, doing their little cartwheels and flips

“It’s impressive,” Patrick added.

“So impressive. They’re very talented young women.” Art returned. Both of them did not let their eyes wander anywhere else. Girls doing all sorts of acrobatic bends and twists and tricks, it was mesmerizing. With the three brain cells shared between them when hot women were present, it was only a few minutes before their interests collided in specifics. On one particular girl. You. 

You had your leg up above your head on the wall, stretching. You were in dark pink shorts and a black tank top, talking to your friends. Your leg was so high up over your head, that both boys were thinking the same thing. “Holyyy fuck,” Patrick said under his breath. “She’s…” 

“Flexible.” 

“Hot.” 

Neither of them took their eyes off of you. You were laughing, engaging in conversation, your leg up on the wall like it was nothing. You shook your hair out of your bun to fix it up a little and the boys were practically drooling. Their eyes lingered on the way your body moved when you took your leg down, bending in odd ways that they both never thought they’d find hot. You spun like a dancer and you were light on your feet and you were probably the most gorgeous woman they’d ever seen. Deja vu, both boys were hard watching you bend and stretch and flip and twirl. You were flawless in every way… 

You saw them in your peripheral, lowering your voice and looking to your friend Tess. “Do we know them?” You asked her, a small smile on your face. “The two boys in the stands, I feel like they’re watching me, are they?” 

Tess pretended to yawn, glancing their way. “Staring. They’re staring.” 

“Are they cute?” 

Tess grinned a little, pretending to twist her back, looking back at them and then you, “They are. Oh my god.” 

“Really?” You giggled just a little. “Oh my god. And it’s me?” 

She giggled back, grabbing your hands for a second. “Here, wait, move over there,” she instructed. You did a cartwheel and back handspring and Tess watched their eyes follow you. She nodded and you both started laughing. “I have no idea who they are. The way they’re watching you, I don’t think they belong to any of these girls.” 

“I love that.” 

“As you should, as you should. If they end up talking to you, send one my way, mhm?” 

“Of course,” you replied, scrunching your nose. It could have been weird. Two strangers watching the girls practice, but their focus was on you. And you weren’t too concerned by it. You thought of it as some form of flattery. It was a good thing you couldn’t see their faces, watching you, entirely hypnotized, their dicks fighting the fabric of their jeans over the way you bent and twisted and twirled. You asked around a little to see if any of the girls knew them and the answers were all no. They truly didn’t belong to anyone. You did sneak a glimpse or two. They were both really cute. You returned to Tess as practice was closing, “They aren’t anyone’s boyfriend. Think I should say hi?” 

“The way they were looking at you? The way they still are? Please say more than ‘hi’.”

“I just might,” you said, pulling a mischievous little face. You said goodbye to the girls and as they all funneled out, you continued to do your exercises. Leg up, leg down, backbend, and flipping over from the backbend onto your feet. You stayed just an extra minute so that when you did start to get your things together, they were well aware of the lack of extra persons in the room. You grabbed your water bottle, looking up at the boys for the first time, dead on. “Hi.” 

Both boys had to snap themselves out of a trance when you called up to them. It was real, you were real, you said hi. You. Both of them didn’t have a word to say for a moment. Art stood up, “Hey.” He said, a little enthusiastically. Had you caught them off-guard? You smiled, walking up the steps. 

Patrick stayed seated, taking his legs off the back of the seat in front of him. “Hi.” He nodded your way. 

“Aspiring gymnasts?” You teased, sitting opposite them on the chair in front of them. Patrick pressed his tongue to his cheek, looking down at his knees. Art sank back into his seat. They’d been caught. “I mean, it’s not every day we get two random guys in here and they aren’t anyone’s boyfriend.” You smiled a gorgeous smile that almost made them both hard again. You were so much prettier up close. It happened you were thinking the same thing. “Y/N.” You introduced yourself. 

“Patrick,” he said. 

“Art,” Art introduced himself in return. You grinned wider. “You’re amazing. I’ve never seen anyone do so many flips in a row.” He gushed. You noted him fidgeting with his hands. It was cute. 

“It was impressive,” Patrick added on. 

“So you hung around because I do flips and it’s impressive. I am flattered, extremely. So when do I get to sit and watch you two do impressive flips?” Art and Patrick both chuckled. You looked down at the bags by their seats, recognizing their racket bags. You laughed a little, “Or play tennis. You’re tennis guys.” 

“Might be,” Patrick replied. 

“We are.” Art admit. 

Your eyes widened, “Oh my god, I’ve seen you guys play! You’re the fire and water guys, I didn’t even realize.” You pointed at them and they smiled to each other. Patrick mouthed ‘water’ at his best friend, grinning. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea I was in the presence of such a talented duo.” 

Art leaned forward just a bit, flattered you knew who they were. Sort of. “You like tennis?” 

“When we’re bored, me and my best friend Tess go watch the men’s tennis to hear the noises they make when they hit the ball.” You nodded, “The only time men can grunt and moan out loud and women can enjoy it publicly.” 

Patrick chuckled a little breathily. You were perfect. Art shifted the way he was sitting, laughing to himself as well. It was hard to talk to you, they both found. You were almost too gorgeous to look at. “Haven’t heard that one.” Art said a little sheepishly. He turned to Patrick, “Do we-” 

“You do,” Patrick nodded. “Loud.” 

“Mhm, I think I can remember.” You grinned. 

“No.” Art grinned, bashful. Patrick laughed. 

“You too, though.” You cut into his laugh and Patrick leaned forward to defend himself, but he just ended up laughing with you and Art. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, with all the impact, tennis can be very sensual.

“Gymnastics isn’t?” Patrick said, looking you in the eyes. 

You narrowed your eyes with a smirk that sent shockwaves through both of their nervous systems. “I never said it wasn’t. It’s why you were watching, after all?” 

Both boys were moving to adjust themselves at this point. You just kept that smile on your face. Art pressed his cheek to his closed fist, trying not to smile too wide. “Are you free right now?” 

Patrick looked over at Art, then at you again. You tilted your head, “I think so.”

“You smoke weed?” Patrick asked. 

“Are you a cop?”

“So yes,” Patrick smiled. 

You chuckled, looking over at Art whose nose was a little pink. “Yes. Do we need that though or are you asking me to hang out?” 

“Asking you to hang out,” Art said. He twisted his ring around his finger. “If you’re up for it.” 

You twisted your mouth to the side, “How is later? So I can shower ‘n get pretty?” 

“Later is good,” Art nodded. Both boys straightened out at your immediate yes. Almost like they weren’t hearing you right. You were gorgeous and perfect and you said yes. To them. Without weed involved. “Where?” 

You stood up, moving back over to the stairs. “Where’s your dorm?” You were inviting yourself over and both of them were in awe, much too excited. Art didn’t mind, just meant he had to run back to his dorm and get rid of all of Patrick’s chip bags. “If you don’t mind. If not, we can just meet out-”

“His dorm is fine,” Patrick chimed in, small chuckle. “310, red building. See you when?” 

“Nine.” You nodded. “That’s okay with you, Art?” 

His name in your voice sounded angelic. “Yeah- yes, it’s okay with me. We’ll see you at nine.” 

You smirked once more, laying a finger aside your nose. “Bye.” 

Both boys said goodbye to you in return, watching you turn and go down the steps, grab your things, and leave. They both had their hands tight around the arm rests of their seats in just a little bit of shock and disbelief. You were hot. You were really hot and you were perfect and funny and dirty… And they would be seeing you later. In Art’s dorm room. 

“That was real,” Art breathed out. “Holy fuck.”  

“Gymnastics was the way to go.” 

Around eight-thirty the boys had just finished shoving all the laundry into the little cabinet in the corner. There were no more chip bags or empty cans laying around. The place looked decent. They even made the bed and cleared off the desk in the corner. Art sprayed his cologne on the doorframe and into the air of the room. Patrick finished tidying up the bathroom. Done with their cleanup, Art sat on the floor next to his bed and Patrick sat in the desk chair. 

“I can’t stop thinking about her leg over her head. Fuck, imagine how good it must feel to fuck her like that.” Patrick said, staring at the wall, dazed. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Just her…”

The boys stayed almost wordless, having their own individual fantasies. Until you knocked on the door. Art and Patrick were comfortable, so it made sense you would be too. Art and Patrick rushed to open the door to face you, your hair down, a different, thicker-strapped black tank top that was cut to just above the edge of your loose shorts. You had a sweater on, but it was slipped off of both of your shoulders, the fabric bunched up at your elbows. Both boys had their breath sucked away from them, like someone pressed all the air from their chest. A smile creeped up your lips. “Am I late? Early?” 

“Hi.” Art said, just a little late. “No, you’re fine, come in.” 

“Hey,” Patrick greeted you. You smiled his way, scrunching your nose just a bit, sitting at the head of Art’s bed. Both boys climbed onto the other end of the bed, Art with his legs crossed and Patrick with one leg up, one leg off the bed. “How are you?” 

“I’m good, I’m good, you?” You returned. Art leaned into his palm, looking at Patrick. 

“I’m great.” He nodded. “So, this is you showered and pretty?” 

“I wouldn’t self-title,” You smirked at his callback. “So what’d you guys do all afternoon? Tennis, video games, endless cleaning and shoving laundry in places laundry doesn’t go?” 

The boys looked at each other, wondering how you knew about that. Art grinned, “The last one, yeah. Mostly. Um… What about you?” He was nervous, you liked that about him. 

You leaned back against his wall, looking around his room. He had various tennis rackets against his wall, a nice computer, a little fridge. It smelled good, too. “Showered, had dinner, got ready and came over here. Not very entertaining.” 

Art looked at you, eyes travelling down your form. You were in his bed, it was hard to believe. “Interesting enough. So… how long have you been in gymnastics?” 

“Since I was five? Or six. But competitive mostly, then acrobatics, then contortion, then dance, and then back to the basics.” 

“Contortion?” Patrick questioned. His tongue pressed the inside of his cheek again. Art nudged Patrick back at the mention. “That’s where you can twist in weird ways, right?” 

“Mhm, most people find it freaky, but it’s fun.” 

“So you’re really good at what you do, then.” Art said. “That’s incredible, most people can’t even do one of those. I can’t even do a handstand.” 

“He can do a cartwheel, though, I think that’s really important,” Patrick said, grabbing Art’s shoulder firmly. “I can’t do either one.” 

You giggled at the thought, “I’d love to see that sometime, you have to show me this cartwheel. You should pull that out in a tennis game, during a rally or something. Oh! Speaking of,  I did find a really interesting video. Doubles, Junior US Open. You guys are really fucking good.” 

Art put his face in his hands, “Forgot that was recorded.” 

Patrick just smirked. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you replied. “Guess we all have our thing.” Art was staring at your thighs, his lip between his teeth, Patrick watching your lips as you spoke. “Have to say, was a quiet game though.” You joked. Both boys were stunned for a moment. You were so… honest. Too honest. It was hot, really fucking hot. 

Patrick grinned, nudging Art gently. Art smiled, “We weren’t loud enough for you?” 

“Hardly.” Patrick and Art laughed quietly at that. You grinned, back at them, giggling to yourself. “Tennis isn’t much fun for me to watch otherwise.” 

“Could say the same about gymnastics,” Patrick rebutted. 

You tilted your head, “Don’t need to be loud in gymnastics. There’s no impact, no big swings. It would be a little strange if I bent over and made a noise. I prefer having a reason to make noise when I’m bent over. A whole other story.” Both boys just blinked, a little taken aback by how blunt you were. But a gorgeous grin spread up Art’s face along with a tint of pink in his cheeks. “Like you mentioned earlier. It's not like gymnastics doesn’t have its suggestive moments. Frankly, all of it is suggestive.” 

Art ran his tongue over his top teeth, listening to you. “Find it helps at all?” 

“With?” 

“Everything,” Patrick answered, a smirk growing on his face. Both boys had to adjust to hide just how hard they were from this conversation, remembering back to your leg over your head just earlier. Their personal fantasies flashing in the front of their minds. “You know.” 

“No, I don’t think I do,” you said, leaning forward just a bit, moving to sit on your knees in front of them. Art and Patrick just laughed to themselves, nervous, caught in your web all too well. Your perfect lower lip between your teeth had the both of them almost drooling. You were so blunt but you played dumb so perfectly… “What do you mean everything?” 

Patrick and Art both couldn’t form the words. Not for a moment. Even less when you chimed in again, “By myself or with someone else?” You asked. They had even fewer words. Their minds were wiped clean by your easy seduction. God, they were so cute and so fun to play with. 

Art’s cheeks were a shade of pink. He was so pretty, you noted, also taking in Patrick’s bashful grin. “Everything,” Patrick restated, his mouth a little open, tongue still pressed to the inside of his cheek. Cocky, almost. 

“It’s handy,” you replied. Art had to shift around again. He was so hard that it hurt. “I’m sure tennis has its pros.” You looked at their hands. “Wouldn’t be the same, but they’re your own.” 

“For sure,” Art agreed. “But gymnastics… I mean you have to be…” 

You scrunched your nose at him, “Flexible.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, fidgeting now with his lower lip. “Flexible. Especially with the contortion thing, that’s crazy, that must be-” 

“I want to know about that one thing that can happen when you stretch a certain way,” Patrick interjected. “Is that true?” 

You giggled, eyes widening. “I forgot about that!” Patrick referred to the stretch-induced orgasm that was fabled, but entirely possible. “It’s real, I’ve heard about it, but personally, no. From gymnastics or even stretching, I’ve never been able to…” 

“Come,” Patrick grinned. You grinned back. 

Art looked at you, “But you’ve done things related to your gymnastics? I mean, the moves you can pull are amazing, they must be… convenient.” 

“I’d say so,” you said, leaning in just a little closer. You pretended like you couldn’t see the boner he was hiding under his wrist. “But Sigmund Freud once wrote about tennis saying that hitting tennis balls without competition was akin to masturbation. And that live competitive games are comparable to sex. I’m not a big fan of Freud, but where do you stand on that?” 

Art’s eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips and the fact he could see the edges of your bra. “Might be comparable, but nothing close to the real thing.”

You nodded just slightly, looking to Patrick for his answer, your gaze something perfect and breathtaking. Art pressed slightly on his boner when you weren’t looking at him, something, anything for a little relief for how hard he was. Patrick locked eyes with you, “I’d ask you if you’ve ever actually played.” 

“I haven’t.” You replied. “Would I find it comparable to sex? If I played against you?” 

Patrick grinned, “Depends on how into the game you are.” 

“I might be really into it, would it feel the same?” 

“In some ways, maybe.” He nodded, looking at Art. Art looked at him, then you. The tension in the room was thick and these boys were growing more aroused by the second. “Doesn’t feel the same physically but it might if you let your mind wander.” 

Art chuckled a little, “It can feel good. Winning. Even losing, sometimes. It’s all emotion, I mean, everything is. And without the tension with your opponent, it’s not really tennis, is it?” 

“No, I guess not,” you paused for a beat, looking at them both. Your sultry gaze, perfect features, perfect body, and perfect lips made them more and more dazed, lost in you. Their only thoughts were how badly they wanted to fuck you. It felt a little perverted to be so attracted to someone for the way they can bend, twist, and move, but there wasn’t any harm in it. “You’re both making me reconsider my sport,” you laughed. “Sounds worth it.” 

“Might be,” Art replied. “It’s nothing compared to the flexibility thing, though.” He chuckled, so fucking nervous, so fucking attracted to you, “I mean, I wish…” He rambled. Patrick wanted to laugh, but he was more focused on how you continued to lean, placing your hands on the bed in front of you. 

“You wish?” You giggled, slowly moving closer. Art felt his face grow even more hot, his dick pulsing. “You wish you were flexible?” You giggled a little more, your lip settling between your teeth. Patrick let a breath slip through his parted lips as you advanced on Art. Both boys had their hearts pounding in their chests and in their dicks. Art swallowed hard. 

He couldn’t say or do anything when you slowly crawled into his lap, sitting on your knees, your hands gently pushing his hair behind his ears. Art swore his heart was going to jump out of his chest and that this wasn’t real, you weren’t on his lap. Patrick repositioned himself, eager, so eager. Art looked at you with eyes wide, clouded with obsession and lust, and god, he wanted you so bad, but he let you look at him for a moment. You could feel him hard underneath you, his hands sliding up your hips and to your waist just bracingly. “I can show you, if you want?” You smiled. Art let out a sigh, he was so whipped. 

There wasn’t much more room for air when you kissed him, pressing your lips to his. His mouth open, kissing you back, a little dazed, but so fucking into it. You felt his grip on your waist increase, pulling you closer. He was so cute and a great kisser. Modest, matching your pace. Shy, almost. So you picked up the pace, grabbed his face harder, kissed him harder, pressed your body against him harder and he groaned through the kiss at all the impact, feeling you flush against his body. 

“Oh fuck…” Patrick mumbled, watching like it like it wasn’t happening in front of him. It was and it was hot. Watching the way Art’s jaw moved, kissing you. His eyes trailing down your thighs, braced on either side of Art’s. The way your body moved so fluidly as you pressed against his best friend. It was a sight easy to get lost in. He watched Art’s hands slide up under your sweater and your hands momentarily left the place on your jaw to remove it. You tossed it on the floor and in doing so, you pulled away just slightly from the kiss. 

Patrick, instinctively, leaned in, kissing you. You met him in the middle, your hands crawling up the back of his neck and into his hair, still straddling Art. Your waist was twisted- if it was anyone else, Art might have worried a little. Patrick’s large hands slid around your back and Art’s hands gripped your thighs gently. You were so perfect, his hands slid up and down the skin of them as you kissed Patrick. He was completely lost in you now. He’d just kissed you and it was perfect and it was real. 

Patrick kissed with passion. It was hot, demanding, needed. You began to pull yourself backward, away from him, but grabbed the front of both of the boy’s shirts, pulling them with you as you kissed Patrick on your back. Art’s body on one side, Patrick’s slightly over yours, but on the other side. He kissed you like he was hungry- like he needed you. Art’s hand traveled the curve of your waist, your hip, back down to your thigh again, fingers dipping into your flesh perfectly. It was with his touch that you pulled away from Patrick and kissed Art again. 

He took it, he wanted it more than anything. Like you were a drug, he kissed you like he was desperate for a high. Kissing him, Patrick moved your hair to the side, beginning to kiss down your neck and collarbone, Art’s shoulder bumping him just a bit, but not too much for it not to feel good. You hummed into Art’s mouth, feeling those warm kisses spread goosebumps down to the thigh Art’s hand was grabbing so perfectly. Your own hand slipped down between your body and Patrick’s, finding the bulge in his shorts and pressing, just slightly with an open palm. Patrick groaned, just slightly. “Fuck,” he mumbled against your neck. 

You grinned into your kiss with Art. His hands carefully found the bottom of your tank top, pulling it up over your head with the arch of your back to help. It helped neither one of their painful boners to find out you didn’t have on a bra underneath. It must have been built in… Patrick’s gentle kisses slowly strayed down your chest, kissing your breast. Art’s hand grabbed the opposite one, gently squeezing as he kissed you, his hard-on pressed against your hip for friction. The sensation of both was fucking amazing, your fingers curled in Art’s hair and your other hand pressed harder against Patrick’s crotch. Both boys made a satisfying noise of the same genre, lighting a fire between your legs. You could feel yourself getting more and more wet by the second. Poor Tess didn’t stand a chance with one of them when you had both fawning, touching, kissing, and sucking over your body. Patrick took your nipple in his mouth, gently rolling your nipple between his tongue and the tip of his teeth. Your back arched due to the subject of your pleasure and as much as you liked it, you needed something real to feel… now. You broke from the kiss with Art and his lips were immediately down the opposite side of your neck. Both boys kissed over your chest, you were going to grab Patrick when their lips met in the middle. 

Art and Patrick kissed hard. You watched, propping yourself up on one elbow. Patrick’s hand cupped Art’s jaw, tongue diving into his best friend’s mouth. You just grinned watching them get into it, taking matters truly into your own hands, slipping your hand down the waistband of Patrick’s shorts. With his free hand, he pulled his shorts down and you had the freedom to slowly start moving your hand up and down his cock. He groaned into Art’s mouth and you watched contented as they kissed like they were going to devour each other. They moved, sat up just the slightest bit, which gave you perfect access to Art’s leaking dick. You found your way to that too, having both hands working at the same time, eliciting noises from both as they kissed over you. You didn’t mind, how could you mind? 

But it didn’t last forever, you were good with your hands, and both boys didn’t want to finish early. Patrick broke off first, diving back into kissing you, both boys pulling their dicks away to let your hands rest. They went back to their worship of your body, Patrick’s hand on your chest as you kissed messily. Art’s lips trailing down the side of your stomach, carefully out of Patrick’s way, then kissing back up. You were bold, pulling Art’s hand down to where you needed it, over the cloth of your shorts and underwear. He was happy to do whatever he could for you, gently pressing over you. He could feel how wet you were through two layers of fabric… He was immediately on taking them off. He pulled your shorts down to your knees and you kicked them the rest of the way off, busy kissing Patrick passionately. 

Not too busy to feel when Art’s fingers moved your underwear aside, his thumb on your clit. The pressure of his gentle hands in this sort of mix was amplified by how much you were feeling. “Mmm- fuck,” you mumbled into Patrick’s mouth. He grinned. Art kissed your ribs gently, goosebumps once again spreading throughout your entire body once again. His fingers slowly slid over your folds, feeling how wet you were. He wanted Patrick to feel this, he couldn’t not. Art grabbed Patrick’s hand and guided it down. Both boys had their hands on your pussy now. And it was a wordless joint effort to remove your underwear. 

Your chest rose and fell heavily, sharing your air with Patrick, who was still so focused on kissing you, mumbling, “You’re so wet…”  Another wordless agreement between the boys took place and Patrick’s fingers began to rub circles on your clit while Art’s pointer and middle finger slipped into you with ease. Your free hand gripped Art’s curls again, his lips staying on your warm skin. You grabbed whatever you could as pleasure began to overtake your body. Both boys focused so much on making you feel good, Art’s fingers pumping in and out of you and Patrick’s focused on teasing that perfect bundle of nerves. 

You felt euphoric. Their hands doing their work like it was all they knew, like it was what they did best. Their collaboration was getting you there so fast, you could hardly keep up with how fast the waves of pleasure washed in and built up. You were a bit of a moaning mess, never having been so thoroughly fingered with dual attention to detail. Patrick had the perfect pressure and Art had the perfect angle, hitting the places you needed to be touched in so well, so perfectly. “Oh my god,” you managed, “Fuck me…” 

“Yeah?” Patrick grinned. Art smiled against the tit he was currently kissing. His dick was out and hard against the bed he pressed himself into, leaking pre-cum like he never had before. You moaned out and both boys knew they just had to up the pace a little. Patrick, flat-handed, rubbed your clit faster and Art fucked his fingers into you a little harder, and in seconds, he felt you tighten around him. He almost moaned himself feeling it all, hearing you. He knew he had to be inside of you. 

Patrick and Art kissed over you again, letting you rest for a moment, both so fucking aroused and taken by your sounds, by your being. So completely fucked that they needed to share how they were feeling by kissing hard, mouths a little open, tongues meeting in the spaces between. Harsh breaths from their rapid movement not caught because your hands were back on their dicks again. Both of them moaned into each other and it was the hottest fucking sight. You watched as they removed each other’s shirt, Patrick’s hand sliding down to his own cock, letting that hand fall between your legs. You’d be unable to finish for another minute but it didn’t stop you from touching yourself at this perfect show. Art’s hands in Patrick’s curls and Patrick’s hand jerking himself off fast and hard at all of this. 

Art is trying his best not to finish at your hand. He wants to be inside of you more than fucking anything so when you use your leg to pull him in, away from Patrick, he doesn’t stop it. He crawls over you, kissing up your neck, up to your ear, over your jaw and cheek and he kisses you on the mouth, lips warmed from Patrick’s kiss. You can hear Patrick still jerking himself off, groaning quietly. You heard the pace pick up as Art slowly lifted your leg, farther and farther back until it was above your head. “Oh fuck,” he whispered. You just grinned and it was honestly a little evil. You were in a position equal to the splits and it made you tight as he slowly pushed into you. You moaned into the room as Art filled you. He filled you so well and in this position, you could feel everything. 

Patrick was groaning quietly still as he continued to jerk himself off to the sight. You were flexible and it did come in handy, “Oh my god, you feel so good, so… perfect.” Art mumbled, thrusting into you. “So perfect.” 

“So flexible, fuck, I told you it’d feel good,” Patrick managed through his own pleasure. You smiled at that. They talked about fucking you, that was good to know. You watched Art’s pretty face as he focused on fucking you, the perfect pace, the perfect amount, the perfect angle. You breathlessly watched his pretty eyelashes as he looked down at where you connected, his perfect hand gripping your thigh above your head so hard. His lips just a little parted, breathing hard, so pretty. So fucking pretty, 

“Harder,” you told him, using a free hand to tilt his chin up so he had to look at you. His eyes were gorgeous, all clouded up with lust and need and desperation and he fucked you harder. It was easy, it was cut and dry thrusting and it felt like you might die and go to heaven, the sensations rippling through your body. “Oh my god, it’s so good, it’s so good.” You moaned. You reached over for Patrick, excusing his hand and taking his dick back in your own hand. He didn’t stop you, letting you take over the best you could. It was more than enough, watching Art fuck you so hard, the room filled with moans and the sound of skin on skin. You could hardly breathe with the work done on you and the work you were doing, but it was perfect. You felt Art slow just a little. “You’re close?” 

“Ye-mmmphhh, uh-huh,” he answered. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“You can come in me, baby,” you assured him, free hand cupping his cheek. It was hard to talk over how much you were feeling and doing. Your words, the theory of it all seemed to give him the momentum to fuck you harder, slamming into you until it got sloppy and he came undone, spilling into you. God, you were fucking perfect, Patrick thought. They’d just met you and you were thoroughly fucked already. Not fucked enough, though. Art pulled out and was met by Patrick’s hand on his oversensitive dick. He made a noise close to a whimper and there was a beat before his lips crashed back onto Patrick’s. His dick was still hard and completely coated in his own cum. You watched them kiss, your hand unable to follow Patrick’s body when it was so close to Art’s. Semen across Patrick’s lower stomach from how close they were when they kissed, up on their knees. You lowered your leg, feeling Art’s load in you seep out and onto the bed as you did. 

Art leaned Patrick back onto the bed, Patrick’s hand working Art’s cock gently as they went. Your lips met Patrick’s shoulder, kissing over his bicep as the boys continued kissing. They couldn’t fuck, you knew that, they didn’t see this coming. You didn’t think they’d be so into each other, but you did not give that much of a fuck. They were best friends, it was bound to happen. 

Art moved off of Patrick for you, letting you climb over him, still dripping from Art, but it was a half-second before you were sitting on Patrick’s cock. He had slipped in so easily with you all soaked. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass. Art leaned against the wall, still breathing hard from everything, just watching as you rolled your hips, starting to fuck him. Your core strength was up to bat with how fast you rolled your hips, your waist following. Fuck, you were so gorgeous… Was a good thing he’d stayed at your practice or he wouldn’t be about to finish a second time somehow untouched, just watching you and Patrick fuck. He never thought he’d be so into any of this, but you were taking over every thought in his brain…

Patrick groaned, “Fuck, you’re so tight… so wet, so perfect, fuck.” His moans came like breaths, heavy sighs. “Can’t compare this shit to tennis, hm-”

“I’ve yet to play,” you grinned, beginning to bounce on his cock. Patrick grabbed whatever he could, your ass, your waist, everything. Art’s mouth stayed just a little open. “Oh god-” Patrick’s dick curved perfectly into you. You’d ride him into tomorrow if he let you- and he would. You wouldn’t expect it from the one who came off more dominant, the way he seemed to melt as you fucked him into the mattress. Art was more than contented watching. Even more contented when you slipped your own hand down your front, middle finger working your clit. Both boys watched as your head tilted back. You were the most gorgeous person on the fucking planet at this very moment. A little sweaty, but so fucking gorgeous. “Oh my god, I’m gonna-” you moaned out. Art’s dick still, painfully, stood at attention. It couldn’t get enough of all of this. Patrick dug his finger into your ass so hard you were sure you’d have fingerprints as he, without warning, finished inside of you as well. You followed suit just a few seconds later, slowing your bouncing to a dull rock. Both of you with chests heaving came to a stop and you let him pull out, the semen gushing from you, leaking a little down your leg. 

You lay between the boys, naked, breathing hard, lips pink from all the kissing and both boys gladly took their break next to you, trying to sort out how all of what just happened was real. And it was possibly the best sex they’d ever had. You were just as into it as they were. You laid there for a while before inevitably getting up to use the bathroom and Art’s shower. 

Art and Patrick washed themselves off as well and put their shorts back on. “Fuck,” Patrick breathed, still in a state of disbelief. Completely stunned, their fantasies lived out. “Unreal.” 

“She’s real, she’s in my bathroom,” Art replied, dazed. “And she’s really flexible.” 

“Uh-huh,” Patrick nodded. They were interrupted, sitting up when you came out of the bathroom in your clothes again. You crawled into Art’s bed again, laying between them once more. You kissed both of them gently, nicely, and you rested your head down on the new bedsheets Art had changed them to when you were in the bathroom. Both boys, a little confused, both didn’t mind putting an arm around you. 

"Loud enough?"

"More than."

[wholoveseggs]

I’m so upset with the lack of Daemon requests so I wanted to give you a challenge.

Reader x Daemon on a dragon. That is all :)

Ride the Sky

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Hightower!Reader} As the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, your own life feels completely out of your control. But a chance encounter with Prince Daemon gives you the opportunity to step out of your cage and touch the sky.

♡♡ ahhhh I love you @elijahstwink, this was such a fun idea & I 100% believe Daemon would do this... ♡♡

4.8k words - Warnings: smut, hightower!reader, fingering, sex on dragon back, daemon being a flirt & hating Otto, kinda mentions of marital rape? tyland lannister {ew} && caraxes being the best noodle boi...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219

The tower of the hand was always such a foreboding place for you. It never meant good news when you were summoned and this time was no different. You stood there, shifting from foot to foot, and finally, the man you were supposed to call father, turned around from the window. He had been watching the city below, and now his gaze was on you.

"I've heard rumors," he said and you flinched. This wasn't the first time he had accused you of doing something inappropriate. In his mind, a lady was a lady, and she should act accordingly. But it seemed no matter how hard you tried to please him, nothing you ever did was good enough.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he waved you away. "I don't want to hear your excu-”

"I wish to know what I've been accused of, then," you snapped back, your own temper getting the better of you. You knew you would pay for that later, but right now, you wanted to hear what it was.

"That you've been imbibing in too much wine and games, not focusing on your duties as a lady of the court," he said sharply, looking back down at his papers. He began writing and you stood there, seething.

"So?" you finally asked, and he looked back up at you.

"It's unbecoming," he replied, his tone laced with condescension, "Especially when you are here at court, looking for a husband. Any potential suitors do not wish to have a drunken wife. It will not look good for him."

You sighed. It was always about men, what would please them, what would make them happy. Never you. And the way Otto looked at you, the disdain in his eyes, you knew what was coming. He had been making the same noises for a while, that he needed to find a match for you, and it seemed as if he had finally found one.

"Lord Lannister is a powerful ally," he began, and you immediately felt your temper rise again. You bit back the urge to yell at him.

"And you think I'll be a perfect wife for him? A boring drunkard whose bed I'll have to warm?" you asked, and you could feel the tears welling up.

Otto's expression was hard. "I would think him being a drunkard would be something you have in common," he replied.

He could see the distress on your face and his voice softened just a little. "We must look to the future of House Hightower, and Lord Tyland would make a fine match for you."

You shook your head, tears spilling over. "I don't want him-”

"And what is it that you want?" Otto snapped.

You stared at him. You wanted so much, and none of it was the life he would choose for you. You couldn't stand it anymore, and you spun on your heel, heading for the door.

He didn't try to stop you, and you didn't care.

You didn't want to go back to your chambers, because Alicent would be there, and you couldn't face her either. So, instead, you went outside to the garden, trying to find a quiet spot where you could cry and hopefully not be found.

You found a stone bench, tucked away in a quiet corner and sat down. The tears flowed freely, and you cried and cried, wondering what would happen now, what would become of your life.

You felt as if it had been planned out without any input from you, and now you were going to have to marry a man who was full and passionless. All because it was what was good for the family, and what was best for House Hightower.

It wasn't fair.

You let out a sob and stood up, looking for something to throw, to break, just to let out the anger and frustration that was coursing through you.

Your eyes fell on a statue.

It was one of the Kings, long dead, but you couldn't remember which one. You glared at it and then, without a second thought, gave it a shove.

It didn't fall over, but it teetered a little, and then settled back.

"Is that how we honor our kings now, by toppling their statues?" "A voice said, and you whirled around. Prince Daemon was standing there, looking at the statue, and then you, a small smirk on his face.

"I-I didn't mean," you stammered, wiping your tears, but he held up his hand.

He didn't say a word, just walked over to the bench. He motioned for you to sit, and you did. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you tried to control your tears.

Your father loathed the prince, and therefore you were expected to avoid him. You had seen him only once or twice, and the first time you had seen him, you were a girl of ten, and he had just turned seventeen.

You remembered seeing him, and being amazed by the beauty of him. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and the fact that he was a prince just made him all the more alluring.

You remembered asking your father if you could marry the prince. Your father had laughed, and told you no, he was not suited for you.

Of course, that hadn't stopped you from having the occasional daydream about the two of you, and here he was, sitting next to you, while you were crying over the thought of your father giving you to an old man.

"What is it like," you asked him, sniffling slightly, "To have the freedom to do what you wish?"

He gave a slight chuckle. "Freedom is an illusion," he replied, his voice quiet, "We are all prisoners in one way or another, even kings,"

"Then I wish for my prison to have a dragon," you muttered bitterly, immediately regretting the words. It wasn't proper to speak to him like that, but he only laughed.

"Perhaps one day," he said, his gaze settling on your face. You could feel his eyes on you, and you blushed, ducking your head.

"Why do you ask about freedom, Lady Hightower," he said in an almost teasing tone, "Is your life not everything a lady could want?"

You didn't meet his gaze, and he observed you thoughtfully, you were a mystery to him as much as he was to you.

"Or perhaps, it is not," he said, his eyes narrowing, "Perhaps you want more than what your father will allow,"

There was a bitterness in his tone when he mentioned your father, the disdain they had for each other was no secret. You didn't wish to add to it, but you couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

"My father is marrying me off to Tyland Lannister," you said, and his lips curved into a small smile.

"And I assume that is why you're here, hiding in the garden," he replied, and you nodded.

He was still watching you, and his gaze made you feel uncomfortable, but in a good way. "I don't want some dull drunkard in my bed, I want..."

You trailed off. It was an improper thing to say, he was the prince, your better. You shouldn't be speaking this way.

"Say it," he said, his voice soft, yet commanding.

"I want my husband to be able to bring me pleasure," you said, the words falling from your lips.

He chuckled, a deep rumble that came from within his chest. You felt even more ashamed by his response, here was the prince laughing at you, thinking you foolish and stupid.

You stood, trying to hide the fresh tears threatening to spill. "I should return to the keep," you said, "Thank you for the company, your grace,"

You took a step, and then suddenly his hand was around your wrist. His touch made your skin feel hot and a strange sensation spread between your legs. You gasped softly, and he stood up, stepping closer.

He towered over you, his blonde hair gleaming in the sun, and his violet eyes were dark and intense, his lips were still curved in a smile, and he was close enough for you to smell him, the scent of smoke, leather and musk.

"Would you like a taste of freedom?" he asked, his voice low. "Before your cage closes,"

"I-I-Yes," you stammered.

He pulled you with him, and you followed.

He led you down the paths and out the gate, along the long stone road to the dragon pit. The guards bowed, and let him pass, and then, to your amazement, he led you into the pit itself.

"My Prince-” you gasped, but he held up his hand again, silencing you.

In the dark of the cave, you could hear them stirring, the great beasts of his house. There was a deep rumble, a sound that felt ancient and primal, and a shadow fell over the both of you.

You stepped back, fear making your heart race. He turned, and you saw the amusement in his face. "Don't worry," he said, "He won't hurt you, unless I tell him to,"

You heard the sounds of his dragon moving forward, and a large snout appeared from the darkness.

"Lady Hightower, meet Caraxes," Daemon said, gesturing to the beast with a wide smile on his face.

You could only stare as the dragon came forward. His body was covered in red scales, and the wings were enormous, his claws scraped against the stone floor, his neck long like that of a snake, and he had a crown of horns on his head.

You have never seen one up close before, only ever far away and up high in the sky. But now, here, in front of you, he was a sight to behold.

Daemon reached out his hand and the dragon nuzzled it, his large, golden eyes fixing on you. He whispered something to the beast, in the language of Valyria, and then turned to you, beckoning you closer.

You hesitated, and he smiled. "It's alright," he said, holding out his hand.

Tentatively, you reached out and touched his palm, letting him take your hand in his. It was soft and warm, and his long fingers curled around yours. He raised it, and pressed it to the dragon's snout.

His scales were smooth and hot to the touch, and the dragon exhaled a deep breath, the sound like a purr. You could feel his breath on your face, and it smelled of sulfur and heat, and underneath that, the metallic scent of blood.

He nuzzled you, his eyes half closing. Daemon smiled and let go of your hand, and you stroked the dragon, amazed.

"He's beautiful," you said softly, admiring the red of his scales and the gold of his eyes.

"Yes," Daemon replied, his gaze fixed on you.

Caraxes pulled away and then, to your astonishment, the dragon lay down on the ground. You looked at Daemon, not understanding, and his smile grew.

"I promised you a taste of freedom, didn't I," he said, and suddenly you realized what he meant.

You watched, amazed as he climbed onto the dragon's back, and held out his hand to you. "Come," he said.

You stared up at him. His hand outstretched, waiting for you to take it. You didn't know what to do. Your father would be furious if he found out. But this was an opportunity you might not get again.

Without hesitation, you put your hand in his, and let him pull you up, settling you in front of him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. Your skirts were in the way, and you struggled to find a comfortable position. You were suddenly very aware of the heat of his body behind you.

"Here," he said softly, his hands moving up your thighs, and then, you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, until the material was up around your hips.

The dragon raised his head, and stretched his wings, a deafening screech filling the air. You could feel him move, the muscles in his shoulders shifting, his body flexing.

With one last scream, he began to move forward, at a speed faster than anything you had ever seen, and suddenly, with a running leap, his body was rising. Daemon had his arms wrapped around you, holding on to the reins as Caraxes' wings beat against the air.

He rose, higher and higher, and suddenly the ground was falling away below you, and the sky opened up before you. You could feel the dragon's strength as he climbed, the power in his body, and the heat and the wind and the roar of his wings.

The sky was a beautiful mix of reds, oranges and pinks as the sun began to set. You could see the Red Keep and the city below, the winding streets and the river and the ocean beyond. It was a breathtaking sight.

Daemon said something in Valyrian, and the dragon gave a cry and suddenly he was moving forward, gliding along the air, his wings spread.

The horizon was endless, the clouds were around you, and the world seemed small and insignificant, all your problems forgotten, at least for a moment.

"Does it feel like freedom, lady Hightower," he murmured, his lips against your ear.

You flushed at his closeness, the warmth of his body and his voice. "Yes," you whispered.

He took your hands, placing them on the reins. You held tight, feeling the dragon move beneath you, the muscles and tendons rippling, the scales smooth and hot.

"Hold them tightly, and pull on them, to turn him," he said.

You did as he instructed, and Caraxes changed course, heading north. The dragon rumbled and roared, a loud squeaking sound that made you laugh.

You felt Daemon smile against your neck, his hands winded around your waist, one hand pressing into your stomach, and the other resting on your thigh, his long fingers curling around the hem of your skirt, the fabric flapping in the wind.

He held you like that, his grip strong and steady. You didn't want it to end, this freedom, the feeling of his arms around you and the dragon flying beneath you.

The hand that was pressed against your stomach moved lower, his fingertips brushing the inside of your thigh. You wanted him to continue, but you also wanted him to stop. It was not appropriate, and you were unsure of what to do.

"My Prince," you said softly, a hot flush coming over you. He was touching you in a way no one ever had, and the feeling was overwhelming.

"You are far too beautiful to marry some dull Lannister cunt," he said, his voice low, his lips grazing your neck. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress with it. Your breath hitched as his fingers moved underneath the linen shift you wore, brushing the soft, wet flesh between your legs.

"This isn't proper, my Prince," you said, trying to focus on the reins and not the way his hand was making you feel.

"And who is here to see? Or to hear?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, "Only my dragon, and I don't think he'll care,"

He pressed a kiss to the spot where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, and you inhaled sharply, your body arching into his. He smiled, his fingers finding the small nub of pleasure between your legs, brushing over it softly. Your hips jerked and you gasped, your head falling back against his chest.

"A woman like you should be in control of who she gives her maidenhead to," he whispered, sucking little marks onto the delicate skin of your neck, "Who gives you that pleasure you crave."

The wind was cool on your skin, but inside you burned. He was igniting a fire deep within you and you were powerless to stop it.

His fingers moved faster, circling the little bud and then stroking it. He knew exactly how to touch you, and you were helpless under his hands.

You knew that you were being indecent, letting him fuck you with his hand, your skirts shoved up, the dragon soaring through the sky. Your father would kill you if he knew. But the thought of it made you only wetter, and you began to push harder against his hand.

"That's it, chase the feeling," he breathed, his fingers moving faster, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you back against him. You could feel the hardness of his cock, pressing against your back, and the knowledge that he was aroused by you, only made the sensation stronger.

Your hands let go of the reins and Daemon quickly grabbed them with his free hand, keeping the dragon steady. You clutched his arm, your body shaking, the pressure building inside you, your legs trembling.

You let out a cry, and then stars were exploding behind your eyes and he was whispering to you, soft and low, encouraging you as you felt yourself fall apart, coming undone.

You slumped against him, the tension leaving your body, and he was there, holding you. You felt his chest rumble with a laugh and you managed to get yourself upright.

You looked at him, his violet eyes, the smirk on his face. You reached out and touched his cheek, and then pulled him towards you, kissing him.

His lips were soft and warm, and he kissed you back, his tongue parting your lips and entering your mouth. It was a deep, passionate kiss, and when he finally pulled away, you were breathing hard.

He smiled, his eyes darting from your lips down your chest. "Perhaps we should return to the keep, my Lady," he said, his tone amused, "before we get carried away,"

You looked down, and saw the sprawling countryside, a sea of green dotted with little villages and the faint outlines of crops and farmland.

"Where are we?" you asked.

"Near Duskendale," he said, his eyes boring into you. He gave you a smile, and in that moment, you lost yourself completely, mesmerized by him and everything that had just happened.

Daemon pulled on the reins, yelling something in Valyrian. The dragon gave a loud screech, and began to descend. He guided Caraxes lower, heading for a field near a small village.

The dragon landed gracefully, his wings folding against his body. The trees and grass bent in the wind from his wings, and the few animals nearby scattered. You could feel the rumble as his belly hit the ground, and then he was still, his breathing deep and steady.

Daemon hopped off the dragon and held his arms out to you. You let him help you down, his hands sliding around your waist. As your feet touched the ground you stumbled, your legs were weak and shaky, and you had to cling to his arm to keep from falling.

His eyes met yours and he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft and firm, and you melted into the kiss, your fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair. He pressed you into Caraxes side, the dragon curled around the two of you protectively, his tail flicking lazily.

The beast was warm against your back, you could feel its chest expand with each deep breath, a gentle rattling sound coming from it.

Daemon broke the kiss, nuzzling into your neck. Your whole body was on fire, and you could feel the heat of him pressed against you.

"Would you like me to make you come again, lady Hightower," he whispered, his teeth grazing your skin.

"My Prince... I've never...," you managed to get out, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Better me than a Lannister, yes?" he said, a smirk on his face.

You blushed furiously, unable to respond. He was right. You didn't want to give your maidenhead to some Lannister bore. You wanted it to be him.

Caraxes curled tighter around the two of you, warm and surprisingly still, his long neck and head outstretched, surveying the area around you. His eyes were lazy, and he was making a strange rumbling sound, almost content, like a big cat.

Daemon looked up at him, smiling at the beast, then back to you, his hands moving up to cradle your face. He leaned in and captured your lips in a hot, searing kiss that had you clinging to him.

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you closer. You could feel the hard length of him against your belly, and a hot ache settled between your legs. You had never felt like this before, so hungry, so desperate.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck. His hands moved down, pushing the skirt of your dress up and bunching the fabric around your waist. He lifted your thigh, hooking it around his hip.

With his other hand he unlaced his trousers, freeing his hard cock. You had never seen a man's cock before, and the sight of his had you blushing even deeper. It was thick and long, the tip pink and leaking a clear fluid.

He smiled, seeing the look on your face, "go on, touch it," he said, his voice low.

Tentatively, you reached out, your hand wrapping around his shaft. He was hot and hard in your palm, the skin smooth and velvety. You moved your hand up and down, marveling at the way he grew harder and thicker.

Your eyes flickered back up to his face. He had a satisfied smile on his lips, his violet eyes dark and intense.

"Like this," he said, placing his hand over yours and guiding you. He showed you how to stroke him, the pressure and speed. When he let go, you continued, enjoying the way his eyes closed and his head tilted back, his lips parting as he breathed heavily.

You watched him, entranced by the sight of him, his pleasure growing. He placed his hand back over yours, stilling you.

He took your other thigh and hoisted you up. You clung to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hard cock rubbed against the soft flesh of your cunt, and you moaned softly, the ache inside you growing.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he thrust against you. You gasped at the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your clit, the head bumping against your entrance.

You looked up at him, pleading. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark, his hair falling across his forehead. He was so handsome, so strong.

"Please, my prince," you breathed, desperate.

He smirked, his eyes flashing, and then he was guiding himself inside you, the tip of his cock parting the soft, wet flesh.

He pushed slowly into you, and you felt a sharp pain as his cock tore through your maidenhead. You cried out, and he kissed you, swallowing your gasp.

He hummed against your lips, a soothing, comforting sound. His hands squeezed your bottom, holding you steady. He moved slowly, rocking his hips, pulling you into him with each thrust.

"I've got you," he said, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin.

The pain slowly subsided, replaced by a delicious, aching pleasure. You clung to him, your eyes closing, lost in the sensation of him filling you.

You could hear the sound of the wind, and the rustle of the trees. The deep gentle sounds of Caraxes' breathing. And the sound of your heart pounding, and Daemon's labored breaths.

He slowed his thrusts, drawing it out, pushing hard and deep, slamming your body back against the beast with each motion. You clutched at his shirt, nails digging into the soft material, gasps and sighs and half-formed moans fell from your lips. He picked up the pace, faster now, and you both lost yourselves in it, your pleasure was all that mattered.

His face was a picture, pleasure and devotion and tension and complete and total ecstasy. Your name was on his lips, a litany of beautiful profanities fell from them, a mix of Valerian and common that made the redness in your face grow deeper. You began to grind your hips against him, rolling them as he moved with you, his movements becoming erratic. His hand came down to cup the back of your neck, holding you steady as he leaned in and captured your lips in a messy kiss.

He stilled, letting out a low groan as he pressed himself deep, holding your hips in place as he filled you with his seed. Your body shuddered and twitched and you whimpered against his mouth, clenching down on him. It was too much, and you followed him over the edge, a bright burst of light going off behind your eyes as you succumbed to the feeling.

He rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, his eyes closed and a look of pure bliss on his face. You giggled, running your hands through his hair, and he managed a lazy smile.

"Think of me when Tyland is trying to stick his cock in you on your wedding night," he said, his words warm and breathy against your lips.

You chuckled, then turned sad, remembering that your wedding would take place soon, and you would never see Daemon again.

He seemed to sense your sadness, his hands cupping your face, his eyes full of promises he could not keep. He said nothing, just kissed you again and held you, pressing you back against the dragon.

Caraxes purred, you could hear a faint rattling, like old armor, and the dragon's chest expanded and deflated slowly, the rhythm soothing.

You stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, Daemon wrapped around you, his hand tracing gentle circles on the exposed skin of your thigh.

You sighed, content and warm and happy, but knowing that the spell was soon to be broken, and you would have to return to the reality of the life that had been laid out before you.

"We should be getting back," you said, frowning. You didn't want the moment to end, but you had been gone for far too long, and your maids would be wondering where you were.

Daemon nodded, reluctantly pulling away. He laced up his pants and then helped you straighten your dress. You tried to flatten the wrinkles with your hands, but there was no helping it. You had been flying, and then you had been fucked, thoroughly, by the heir to the throne, and there was no hiding that.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes full of promise and heat. You blushed, and he grinned, pulling you back to the dragon.

The ride back was slower, the dragon gliding gently through the sky, and you had the urge to cry. You wanted this feeling, of freedom and warmth and safety, to last forever.

You sat back against Daemon's chest, his arms tight around you, the wind whipping through your hair.

Caraxes flew lazily through the sky, and you could see the Red Keep getting closer, the massive walls looming large. The dragon descended, the air rushing around you, and then the beast landed in the center of the courtyard near the dragon pit, his wings beating wildly, sending clouds of dust and dirt swirling around him.

He roared, a great and terrible sound, his long neck twisting and his wings stretching. The beast was restless, and he seemed unhappy to be back in the confines of the castle.

Daemon leapt off the dragon, landing gracefully, and then turned and helped you down, his hands lingering on your waist. He gave you a wicked smile, and you blushed, unable to meet his eyes.

"I swear," he said, lifting your hand and pressing another kiss to your knuckles, "I'll burn down Casterly Rock just to get a taste of you again."

You chuckled, a blush coloring your cheeks, then you looked him in the eyes.

"And I will gladly watch it burn," you said, grinning.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, and then he was gone, climbing back onto Caraxes and taking to the sky. You watched them disappear, the great, crimson beast disappearing into the clouds.

You stood there, alone in the courtyard, watching the sky long after he had disappeared. Your heart was heavy, despite his promises, you knew that you would never see him again.

You turned and walked back to the keep, your mind filled with memories of your time together. It was a small moment, a stolen moment, but you knew you would hold on to it…

And be reminded of it every time you looked to the sky.

[froggibus]

hiiiii :3 idk if ur taking reqs for dc right neow but a thought that tickles my brain rlly good is dick grayson/reader w a praise kink and dick exploits it n uses it to his advantage.... preferably afab reader but gn is fine :P

CTRL + H - Dick Grayson

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem! best friend! reader (uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: when your best friend discovers porn in your browser history while fixing your computer, he decides to use it to his advantage

CW: friends to lovers, lots of praise, uses of ‘good/pretty/lovely girl’ dick calls you sweetheart/angel, dick is CORNY I’m sorry, mentions of porn/asmr porn, teasing, gaslighting (but not really), fingering, marking, unprotected sex, lots of sweat (its sexy i swear), dick fucks you over a desk, kinda rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, implied to be summer, i think thats it??

hey hi 👽 anon, thanks for the request! im sorry it took so long, it wasn't meant to be this long i swear, i just got caught up in the thought of Dick being all hot and sweaty and praising you while fucking you >~< and yeah this happened. really hope you like it (but if you don't, let me know and ill totally rewrite it!) lots of love yes i took an extra 30 mins to find nightwing #83 to take a picture of the comic book to make this banner lol

As if having Dick Grayson look at your search history wasn’t bad enough, now you have to live with the mortifying ordeal of him knowing you have a praise kink.  

When you had first invited him over to take a look at your malfunctioning computer, you’d thought nothing of it. You figured he would turn it on and off again, maybe update some drivers. So when he suddenly clicked into your browser and began scrolling through the long, long list of websites you’ve visited, you weren’t sure how to react. 

You noticed it at the same time as him, the glowing screen forcing you to freeze where you stand. There on the screen, from just last night, read: praise nsfw asmr. You swallow hard and lunge for the mouse to click out of your browser history, but breathe a sigh of relief when Dick does it first. 

There’s a beat of silence, your racing thoughts deafeningly loud as you try to come up with a reason to kick him out. Fanning your face as if that will help chase away the heat of the day, you swallow once more in an attempt to work some moisture back into your mouth. 

“F—find anything?” You say as casually as you can. 

It’s ridiculous how embarrassed you are, honestly. He’s just your friend, it’s just porn, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Still, the rattling of your heart against your rib cage and his cruelly quiet silence make it feel like it is. 

He shakes his head. “Not so far, I should keep looking but—“ he flicks his eyes up your body, perfect blues tracing your every curve, “you seemed flustered.”

You raise your hands in denial all too quickly, your sweaty palms stretched out towards him. Dick raises an eyebrow, examining you in the way he does with strangers in coffee shops. 

“I just…don’t see how my search history is relevant, I guess. That’s all.”

He grabs your wrists, lowering your arms from the defensive position they’ve taken. Despite the familiarity of his touch, something feels off, different in a way you can’t explain. You shake the thought away. 

The world has not shifted on its axis because your best friend suddenly knows what kind of porn you’re into. 

His touch lingers on your wrist and he uses the leverage to gently pull you closer to where he sits at your desk. When he finally drops your wrist, a chill circles the space where his hand once was, refreshing your feverish skin.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t accidentally picked up a virus somewhere. If we can find one in your history, it’ll be much easier to get rid of it.”

The explanation only half seeps into the mush your brain has turned into under his gaze and you find yourself nodding without quite understanding. 

You were fooling yourself by inviting him here. While asking for his help was cheaper than hiring a professional, having him so close to you almost hurts—especially when lately you’ve been trying to force away the feelings you’ve harboured for him. 

“So,” Dick says again, “won’t you be a good girl and let me fix your computer for you?”

His words force you out of your thoughts, purely by short circuiting your brain. You blink at him with wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“W—what did you say?”

“I just asked if I could fix your computer now.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Did you mishear him, or did he call you ‘good girl’? He flashes you that signature smirk of his, his blue eyes suddenly dark with something you don’t recognize. 

Though everything on his face reads innocent, something not-so innocent lurks beneath the surface. Something that stares you down and screams ‘challenge me’. 

“Yeah.” You swallow. “I guess that’s fine.” You take a deep breath and try to steady the spinning in your head. 

Dick continues his work nonchalantly, hitting a few keys and opening your browser history once more. You turn your eyes away from the screen, instead focusing on the way your fingers grasp the desk until it hurts. 

You listen to him scroll for a while and try to pretend like he’s not looking through the most intimate part of your life. The idea of him seeing that part of you excites you as much as it nauseates you—a lethal combination. 

“You can relax.” Dick hums. 

You lift your head to look at him just to see him focused completely on the screen. You don’t dare glance at what he’s so focused on. 

“Why not sit down? This could take a while.” He says calmly. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better if you do.” 

You roll your shoulders. “I think I’ll just stand.”

There’s a shift in his eyes as if your words sparked something in them. He finally glances away from your screen, completely focusing on you with a newfound intensity. You want to shrink from his gaze, to run down the hall and hide in your broom closet, but you stay rooted in place. 

“It would help me a lot if you sit down. Don’t you want to be a good girl and help me out?” 

Holy fuck. “What did you just say?”

It feels like you’re waiting an eternity for him to speak again, your heart beating a mile a minute. He’s going to deny it, or make fun of you even more or worse—tell Wally about it. 

He pats his lap. “Come sit with me,” he purrs, “be a good girl, keep me company while I work.”

In your shock, you find yourself shuffling towards him and settling in his lap. Dick helps you adjust, tugging you back to his chest and keeping one arm around you while his other reaches for the mouse once more. 

He’s so close to you that you can feel the beating of his heart, his breath on your neck. You close your eyes and pray that he can’t feel the heartbeat that’s suddenly appeared between your legs.

You can’t remember a single time he’s been this close to you, a single time he’s touched you like this. The sudden proximity makes you dizzy, butterflies taking flight in your tummy. You clench the arm rests on either side in an attempt to keep your cool.

Dick shifts behind you, one of his thighs gently brushing your clit in a way that makes you squirm. “Don’t do that!” 

His hand slides from your waist to grip your thigh, a shiver running up your spine at the contact. “Don't do what? This?” He repeats the motion.

You squeak, lurching forward in an attempt to get away from the friction. You tilt too far and suddenly you’re falling head over heels towards the mat beneath your chair. Dick is quicker than that, wrapping one arm around your chest and another around your waist to tug you harshly back to him.

“Don’t do that,” you repeat breathlessly, “please.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, soft strands of black hair tickling your cheek. “Why not? Use your words, angel.”

The nickname reignites something inside of you, rekindling a fire between your legs. You clench them together in the hopes it will do something to muffle the throbbing, but when you feel Dick smirk against the side of your neck, you know you’ve failed.

When you don’t answer him, he grins his knee between your legs once more, an innocent hum prompting you.

“You’re—fuck, you’re kneeing me in the cunt.”

Dick’s not sure if it’s from your brazen words or how entirely ridiculous this whole afternoon has been, but suddenly he’s laughing. A big, open mouthed, creasing at the corners of his eyes, laugh. 

His laugh surprises you enough to summon one of your own, sending you both into a fit. You shift on his lap to look at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to support yourself while the two of you laugh. It’s stupid and ridiculous and you’re not quite sure what you’re laughing at—just that you are. 

You’re laughing and laughing and suddenly his lips are on yours and his eyes are closed and—fuck, he’s kissing you. And then you’re not laughing anymore, your hands brushing up his neck and tangling in his hair. He’s not laughing anymore either, his hands gripping your waist like he expects you to leave at any moment.

You’re breathless when you pull away, refusing to open your eyes and face the reality in front of you. Because maybe the world didn’t shift on its axis when he learned your porn preferences, but it definitely has because he just kissed you.

He taps your cheek gently, using that terribly calm voice he does whenever you start spiralling. “Y/n.” He coos, “open your eyes, y/n.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head in refusal. You know as soon as you do, you’ll have to confront your feelings for him, and his for you, and all of that is just too much and god, when did it get so hot in here? 

You open your eyes one at a time, casting them down to where your thighs rest on his. Your hands come together, fingers twirling in your lap just to give you something to focus on other than the throbbing in your clit and the weight of Dick’s eyes on you.

He drags a finger down your overheating cheeks, tracing the outline of your jaw and tipping your head up to face him. His blue eyes are lined with something new, something darker—a need you’ve never seen before. 

“Look at me.” There’s a commanding tone to his voice before it softens, “c’mon, please?”

You finally force yourself to meet his eyes, the familiar ultramarine calming the sudden bite of your nerves. “Only cause you asked so nicely,” you say quietly. 

“Good girl,” he smiles and it feels like the sun pushing through rain clouds. He strokes your cheek gently, his thumb landing on your cupid's bow. 

You shiver beneath his touch despite the unbearable heat of the day. While his finger on your lips threatens to send you flying away, spiralling into space, his other does the opposite. His grip on your hip is tight, fingers digging in and sure to leave behind bruises. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks quietly. 

It’s only a small mercy that your nod doesn’t prompt another ‘good girl’ from him, or some other horribly delightful variation of it. However, when his lips brush yours and his hand slides to the base of your throat, all of the thoughts melt away. There’s no embarrassment, no overthinking, just raw emotion and the sensation of his skin on yours. 

You shift in his lap, sliding one of your thighs over his so you can straddle him. Dick offers a guiding hand while you slide forward, half steadying you, half tugging you closer. You shimmy up the length of his jeans until you’re as close as possible, your stomach pressing into his toned abs. 

A gasp leaves your throat when your clit brushes the very edge of the bulge in his jeans, the noise only edging him along. His teeth graze your bottom lip, both gentle and desperate, before his tongue slips into your mouth. 

The taste of him is intoxicating, consuming you until you’re grabbing his cheeks with both hands to pull him as close as possible. You whine when his cock grazes your clit again and Dick breaks the kiss to let out a breathy laugh against your lips. 

“Someone’s needy,” he teases, but his eyes are rimmed with dark and when he looks at you through his lashes, all you see is need. 

“Back at you.”

His palm sticks to your cheek with sweat when he goes to pull it away. “You’ve been so good for me today,” he hums, his other hand trailing up your thigh. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You mumble a breathy ‘please’ before his fingers are brushing your clit through your pants, the heat pooling in your panties near insatiable. You tighten your grip on him and bury your face in the tight black fabric of his t-shirt to muffle your heavy breathing.

While one hand rubs intense figure eights up the length of your pussy, his other hand is fiddling with the buttons of your pants. He sighs in triumph at the soft popping noise and then the fabric is pulling away from your skin, Dick somehow managing to tug them down with only one hand. 

You shift in his lap and prop yourself up on your knees to give him better access while he drags the fabric down your thighs. He takes advantage of your position to spin you to face your monitor once more, leaning back in the chair so you’re reclined against his muscled chest.

Warm breath fans the overheating skin of your neck just where your shirt meets your skin. Two calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, skimming the warmth and slick of your cunt. Dick sucks in a breath, his pants suddenly too tight.

“You really are needy,” he swallows hard. “Lovely, needy girl.”

His words only serve as a catalyst to the intense need you feel in your core, amplifying your desire tenfold. The pad of his index finger brushes your clit and you’re suddenly a goner. Your eyes squeeze shut and you throw your head back, imagining the circles of Dick’s fingers in your mind.

He gently kisses at the neckline of your shirt, his lips soft against the sensitive skin. His tongue runs across the sensitive skin there in tandem with the moving of his hand, the duality sending shockwaves through you. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out his name.

His wrist slides further into your underwear, fingers moving away from your swollen clit to run along the rim of your aching pussy. You suck in a breath, not moving an inch while you anticipate what’s to come.

Dick sucks a dark mark into your neck. “Ready f’me?” He mumbles into your skin.

You eagerly nod, trying to shift your hips into his fingers and shove them inside of you, but Dick moves away. You frown, lazily looking over your shoulder at him.

“You have to use your words.”

You almost roll your eyes but in your desperation, let your head hang in defeat and open your trembling mouth. “I-I’m ready Dick,” you say, quietly adding, “please.”

“Good girl.” 

Then he’s suddenly slipping a finger inside of you, travelling the length of your spongy walls to sit deep inside of you. A gasp rips through you, his name tumbling off your lips faster than you can catch it. He grips your hip to steady you, strong fingers bruising the exposed skin.

He curls his finger inside of you, prodding at that sweet fucking sensitive spot. He only stops when you whine, slipping his finger out for only a second before shoving it back in. He repeats the motion, starting a rhythm of thrusting in and out, his hand on your hip tapping along in tandem.

You squirm in his lap, that ball in the centre of your stomach turning white hot and growing until you can barely contain it. One of your hands squeezes his wrist—whether to stop or encourage him, you don’t know.

“Dick,” you whine, your voice taking on a raspy tone you hardly recognize.

He hums in response. “Does that feel good?”

“S-so good.”

He rewards you by slipping his other finger inside of you, the two of them working in unison. His fingers are so long and thick that they reach places inside you that you’ve never been able to touch on your own, stretching your walls just enough to make your eyes roll back.

The impending waves of your orgasm roll over you, that knot in your core so tight that you know it's bound to undo any second. You squeeze his wrist tighter in warning, your fingers pressing into his veins until you can feel the steady thrum of his blood pulsing. 

Dick slips his hand from your waist up your shirt, palming your tit. “Cum for me,” he murmurs. “You’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

His words walk you right over the edge, that knot finally coming undone and sending wave after wave of molten pleasure through you. Every muscle in your body contracts, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tightly it almost hurts. Both your hands clench around the wrist currently in your underwear. Holding him steady while you ride out your high on his fingers.

Dick holds you, keeping you stable while you gush and thrash wildly in his lap. He can feel your slick soak through the fabric of his jeans, his thighs warm with your juices, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

He trails kisses up your neck to your jaw, your cheeks and finally, tips your head back until he can plant soft, chaste kisses to your lips. His wrist aches from how hard you squeeze him but he doesn’t dare pull away until your muscles are relaxing and you let out your first, panting breath.

“Feel good?” He prompts.

You shake your head vigorously, all sweaty hair and hot skin and aching lungs. Dick almost wishes he had a camera because the sight of you laying in his lap all fucked out is one he would love to savor and put in his wallet.

He shifts behind you, only now remembering his aching cock and how badly it yearns to be free of the denim confining it. “Think you could do one more? For me? It would make me feel so, so good, sweetheart.”

You don’t think twice about his words, lazily trapping his lips in a sloppy needy kiss and mumbling ‘yes’ against him. In your fucked out state, you’re only half sure that you’re even speaking, the world around you fading. Dick slips his hand out of your panties, his palm soaked with your juices, and rests it on your thigh. 

“I need you to stand up for me,” he says, only half asking. 

He helps you up on shaky knees, your pants that had been resting just above your knees dropping the rest of the way to the floor. You brace yourself against the desk, half bent over while Dick slowly tugs down your panties. The minute the sticky, soaked fabric peels away from your pussy, you gasp.

Dick stares at the mess he’s made of you proudly, your folds glistening with the slick of your last orgasm. He burns the image into his mind while he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans, standing behind you while he drags them to the floor with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and dripping with pre cum, begging for you.

He strokes it absentmindedly, all of his thoughts only on you and your trembling thighs, bent so perfectly over the desk waiting for him. He lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, rubbing it through your folds and prodding your clit before repeating the process over again.

Each shift of his cock, each rock of his hips, forces shivers of anticipation down your spine. Heavy breaths leave your lips, your arms barely managing to hold your weight over the desk when you dip your head down to stare at him through the crook of your arm.

“Such a pretty pussy. So wet and needy,” he groans when he finally lets his cock rest at your entrance. “So ready for my cock.”

You nod even though he’s mostly talking to himself. You let your arms sag against the desk and rest your face against your forearm, the sweaty skin sticking to your forehead. Dick thrusts forwards and lets the head of his cock push inside of you.

Moans leave him the second he dips into your heat, the tip of his cock stretching you in a way that has both of your eyes rolling back. His fingers resume their earlier position on your hip, digging in so hard it almost hurts. 

He stills once his tip is nestled in your walls, listening to the whiny breaths you let out while you adjust to his size. Your clench your hands into fists, slightly shifting from left to right to help him fit better. He’s big, bigger than you expected, but the way he molds your walls to his cock is almost enough to have you cum right then and there.

Dick is so distracted by the sight of his cock dipped inside of you that he doesn’t remember to move. It’s only when you let out a needy whine and shuffle your hips backwards that he realizes you’ve been waiting so patiently for him.

He snaps his hips against yours, the head of his cock barreling so deep inside of you so quickly that it almost hurts. “Sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, “didn’t mean to make you wait.”

You try to tell him that it’s okay but you’re silenced with another hard thrust. You cry out his name into your arm, your teeth grazing at your skin in your attempt to be quiet. Dick grabs the other side of your waist, using his hands to push and pull you as he pleases.

You fall further against the desk, your body lazily resting against it while Dick’s hips snap into yours repeatedly. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin, a chorus of your combined moans filling the empty space between thrusts. Each shift of his hips, each prod of his cock, only spurs you further along.

You squeeze your eyes shut, completely focused on his cock battering its way through your walls. You’re only vaguely aware of Dick talking to you, his praise sounding incoherent beneath the rush of blood to your ears. Your pussy flutters around him, his cock scraping your cervix with every thrust.

He thrusts particularly hard into you, his cock jamming hard into the very edge of your walls, forcing a loud cry from you. It aches as much as it pleases, and without thinking, you’re suddenly crawling forward across your desk. Dick tightens his grip on you before you can get very far, tugging you back hard against him and slamming your pussy down on his cock.

You nearly squeal from the pleasure, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. That familiar heat builds inside of you once more, spilling over more and more with each intense thrust.

“You’re taking me so well,” he coos. “So tight—god, it’s like your pussy was made for me. Fuck.”

His lewd words add to that growing knot inside of you and suddenly you’re coming undone in his arms. Everything is too hot, too much, too loud. Tears spill from your eyes and you’re barely aware of the half sobs, half moans you let out through your orgasm.

“That’s right, let it all out. Good girl, cumming around my cock like that.”

Dick holds you steady the whole time you cum, thrusts growing sloppy as your pussy sucks him in and tries to keep him inside of you forever. He’s almost as breathless as you while he watches you cum and the way your pussy seizes around him is enough to have him tumbling over the edge after you.

He wraps both arms around your waist, pulling your hips flush to his, before he lets the both of you fall back into the chair behind him. Your new position forces his cock deeper inside of you—as deep as it can go—and then he’s cumming inside of you.

You can barely feel the hot ropes of cum he spills inside of you while you come down from your own high. Your thighs shake where they rest over his and you’re grateful for him holding you. 

Dick lets his forehead rest in the crook of your neck, his sweaty hair wetting your t-shirt. Even after he’s done cumming, he holds you tightly against him, the two of you panting in sync.

It’s nearly five minutes later when you can finally bring yourself to speak, your hoarse voice evidence of the pounding you’ve just taken. “I take it you saw my browsing history?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Dick laughs, his voice gravelly and deep and sexy. “Yeah,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I did.”

You awkwardly turn in his lap, twitching at the way it adjusts his half-hard cock inside of you. You look up at his eyes, the blue finally starting to seep back in through the dark. He cups your face, his hand sweaty, and pulls you in for another kiss.

When you pull away, you can’t help but ask, “so, what now?”

“First, I think I should show you how to use Incognito Mode.”

masterlist | dc masterlist

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[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 2

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. my sincerest apologies for not putting this in the warnings at first. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. sorry bubs. swearing. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4k

Chapter 1 Master List

“You didn’t have to walk me home, you know. It’s only a few blocks.” You tell Max as you press into his side, shivering against the cold breeze of the Monaco night. It had been warm when you left the apartment earlier that evening but now the air held a chill that had you wishing you had taken Carles up on his offer to drive you back home. 

Around you, the city buzzes, a hive of activity on a Friday night but the extent of your world consists of only you and Max. 

“Of course I did. It’s late and cold and there was no way you were walking home alone.” 

“Max, we live in Monaco, I’m perfectly safe.” You joke but secretly, you’re glad Max had offered to walk you home. 

You’d never admit it but you liked being around him, his demeanor had always been calming to you and tonight, your nerves were frayed more than usual. It was probably thanks to the whispers you had heard at the gallery, asking not so quietly where Lando was as you walked around and spoke to the guests. He had never showed up and while you were disappointed he hadn’t showed, you weren’t quite surprised either. There had been something in his tone when you left that evening that had anxiety curling your gut before you even stepped out of the apartment. You hated to even think it, but you somewhat suspected he had never planned on showing up to the show at all that night but you wouldn’t ever put a voice to those thoughts.   

“Fine then.” Max huffs, but there’s no venom in his voice. “Maybe I just wanted to spend some extra time with you, okay? I feel like we never see each other anymore.” Max lets the unsaid end of that sentence hang in the air: ‘Because you’re with Lando now.’  

Your heart aches at the truth of his words. A lot of your friendships had taken a hit over the last three years. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but your circle had shrunk significantly since you had started dating Lando and it shocked you how you never had realized it until now. It had started small, with Lando saying he just wanted to spend the weekend only with you while he had a rare weekend off and then slowly morphed into him only wanting to spend time with his friends so if you wanted to see him you had to spend what little time you got with him with his friends as well. Slowly, your friends stopped calling and inviting you places because the answer was always the same: ‘sorry, Lando has plans this weekend and I’m going to tag along with him!’ Or just a straight up ‘no, not this time.’ 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, biting your lip as guilt creeps up your neck. “It’s been a rough year.” 

Max hates the regret that courses through him. He shouldn’t make you feel like this, shouldn’t voice his opinion of what he sees happening in front of him. He can’t help the frustration that bubbles to the surface when you talk like that though. He knows exactly where it comes from and it kills Max knowing that there is one person solely responsible for dimming that sparkle you’ve always had. 

Max stops in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few tourists to shout in surprise when they have to dodge the Dutchman’s tall frame. A frown finds itself onto his face as he looks down at you. Your heart stutters to a stop, you’ve seen this look before and it has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. 

“I hate when you do that.” He can’t help himself, he’s kept his peace for far too long but the fact that  Lando missed tonights show has been burning a hole in his chest all night and the embers were about to flare to life. 

Panic squeezes at your chest. Around you, people are shooting glances your way as you both stand in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. You only have a few moments before someone notices it is you and Max Verstappen and start taking pictures. Pictures that will inevitably show up on some gossip instagram account and cause you more trouble than they’re worth. 

“Do what?” Despite your desire to not be seen arguing with Max, you can’t help the question that slips out. 

“When you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. Anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship and it’s not you, Dovie.” Max’s words come out more harsher than they intend and he knows he’s approaching a line that probably shouldn’t be crossed tonight. 

You can’t bring your eyes up to meet Max’s heated gaze but you can feel him looking at you. Those blue eyes you used to think you could get lost in when you were younger. Before everything changed. Before you met Lando and he swept you right off your feet. 

“Charles told me about the apartment.” Max confesses. Maybe if you know you have others supporting your decision to leave, it’ll make it easier. He hopes that his support would mean something to you.

Your stomach plummets to your toes, cheeks burning red with shame. “Charles should keep his big mouth shut.” You bite out, fists working themselves into a ball at your sides. 

Max’s eyes narrow at your outburst. There was the fire that you’d been missing. Something in Max heaves a sigh of relief, you’re still in there. You’re on the cusp of getting that fire back and Max can almost see you reach for it deep in the pit of your belly. You’re so close to the edge and Max knows you well enough to know when to back off.  

“I’m sorry.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “I won’t press. I just wanted you to know that I miss you.” 

Max momentarily wonders if he’s gone too far when he sees tears well up in your eyes. His heart squeezes at the thought of being the one to make you cry. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” You sob, no longer caring who sees you or what could possibly make it back to Lando. “I know you���re friends with him and I shouldn’t put you in the middle of our mess.” 

Max’s brows knit together in confusion. The fact that you would question his loyalty to you over Lando simply baffles him. “I’ve been in your life longer than I’ve known Lando and you’ll be in my life long after he’s gone.” Max lets that last sentence hang in the air, the prophecy of his words clinging to your skin. 

“Max.” You whisper, floored by the fierceness of his tone and the sincerity of his words. 

Panic claws at him. He’s gone too far, revealed too much. He can’t do that with you now, not when you’re already so fragile. You don’t need that from him and he knows it. Back off, something in him orders and alarm bells clang to life. 

“All I’m saying is,” Max keeps his tone deliberately light. “If you need a friend to talk to, I’m here. Always.” 

You nod, appreciating how he backed off when he saw you panicking. 

Max takes your elbow before turning you around, pointing you in the direction of your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you home, okay?” 

As Max walks you the rest of the way home, Lando is still set up in his gaming room playing Tarkov with Max on his stream. As they begin another raid, Lando notices Max’s stream start to pick up at a much faster pace than it’s been running all evening. He’s been streaming for hours now, since before you left the apartment and while he knows the opening should be wrapping up right about now, he has a hard time caring. Those things are always so boring and he never understands the art, even if it is nice to be photographed out with you and your brothers. 

“What is this link everyone’s spamming chat? You all know if you start spamming, we’re going to mute you.” Max asks, frustration evident in his voice. 

Lando glances over at the chat screen on his second monitor and sees his name flying by along with what looks like an instagram link. He knows he shouldn’t click on dodgy links but curiosity gets the best of him because at the same time the chat starts to explode, so do his notifications from Instagram. “The fuck?” He mumbles, ignoring Max who is reading the chat as they come in. 

“First Verstappen steals your championship, now he’s stealing your girl? Chat, what the fuck are you all on about?” 

Lando can feel the heat rising in his face and he’s instantly thankful that he’s got his video off. He mutes himself quickly too before texting Max, who is desperately trying to regain control of the chat. The link finally opens and Lando nearly drops his phone. He’s been tagged in a series of photos that show you and Max walking out of the gallery together, then you two stopped in the middle of the sidewalk embracing with you clearly looking upset, and then a final one showing you two walking away together. 

Anger flares bright and sharp in his chest as he looks at the photos. You’re making him look like a fool, galavanting around town with the likes of Max Verstappen late at night, especially after all he went thorough with Max last season. What the fuck were you thinking?

“Alright, chat I think that’s going to be the end of the stream tonight. This is why we can’t have nice things!” 

Max ends the stream without a second thought, knowing that Lando is going to be incandescent with rage after seeing those photos and reading all the comments. 

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source First he steals the championship, now it looks like Max Verstappen is making a play for @/lando's girl. Uh ooooooh... user9928 I mean, she looked pretty upset in the other pictures I saw leaving the gallery. Lando didn't show to support her so... user298 paddock bunnies gonna bunny >>>user223 she's literally known Max almost her entire life??? user110 this isn't a thing...her and Max have been friends for YEARS. Leave the poor girl alone user1008 lando's loss, she's amazing. user918 idk but if my girl got caught getting a kiss from another guy, I'd go scorched earth >>>user028 SERIOUSLY I am floored by the people defending her??? Like??? >>>user928 maybe if Lando showed up for his girlfriend, Max wouldn't have had to step in and comfort her...?

As Lando struggles to come to grips with what he just saw, you and Max are standing in the lobby of your apartment as you desperately search for your keys. “Fuck, I think I forgot my keys upstairs.” 

“Just give Lando a call, I’m sure he’s still up.” 

You shrug, cheeks heating. “He sometimes gets tunnel vision when he’s streaming and forgets to check his phone.” You admit, not wanting to go more into detail because you know how bad it’ll sound if you have to tell Max that sometimes Lando will completely ignore you while he’s streaming. What you also don’t tell him is that this has happened to you before and all three times, you’d had to spend the night at either Jade or Charles’ house because he had been on stream so late you had nearly fallen asleep in the hallway. 

Max levels a glare at you, unable to believe what you’re saying. “Well, lets both go up then and maybe we can get his attention by knocking.” 

Anxiety ripples through you as Max starts off towards the elevators, giving you no other choice but to follow him. It’s a quiet ride up to your floor as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, unable to even attempt to make small talk with Max. You know the facade of your entire relationship is about to be lifted right in front of one of your oldest friends and you don’t quite know how to make it stop. 

When you raise your hand to knock, your heart hammers in your chest so wildly you momentarily worry Max is going to be concerned for your health. Much to your surprise, it only takes a few short moments for the door to swing open so fast you nearly stumble back. 

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Lando spits when his eyes land on Max. The venom in his voice is so shocking you need to take a step away, unintentionally stepping closer to Max, which seems to set Lando off even more. Rage flares in his eyes at your proximity to his on-track rival. 

“That’s a wild way to say ‘hey man, thanks for walking my girlfriend home in the dark because I couldn’t be bothered to show up to her art show’ but you’re welcome.” Max grits out, taking one step closer to you as if he might need to get between you and Lando. 

Tension hangs thick between the three of you as Lando seethes where he stands in the door. 

“Max, it’s okay.” You whisper, shame lighting a painful spark of fire deep in your chest. This was going to get out of control so quickly. 

“No, it’s not and you know it.” Max turns back to Lando now, eyes blazing with a level of anger that is miles more intense than the look Lando is giving you. “And why the fuck are you coming at her so hot? All I did was walk her home.” 

Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Because this was just posted by almost a dozen gossip accounts and was being spammed all over Fewtrell’s chat while we were streaming.” 

You take the phone Lando is brandishing in your face and go pale. The carousel of photos in the new post are pretty damning, you have to admit but you would have thought that your boyfriend of all people would know better than to blindly believe a series of grainy photos above trusting his own girlfriend. 

“Lando…” You sooth, arm reaching out to touch his elbow. You wince when he pulls away from you. “You of all people should know how those things are twisted. Max was just walking me home and we were talking, that’s it.” 

“But why was he hugging you?” He shows you the third picture of Max hugging you after you had started crying out on the street. You had to admit you were kind of impressed with how fast those photos got out, but it was Monaco after all and you hand’t exactly been discreet when you were upset with Max. 

“Because she was upset you didn’t show up for her. Again!” Max shouts and you flinch.

 The words slice a fresh wound across your heart. The fact that Max knew that this wasn’t the first time upsets you more than you think it should. You’re not entirely sure why Max’s opinion of you matters so much but you’re not quite willing to examine those feelings yet. 

Lando’s glare swings away from you and back onto Max. “Because I’ve been to a million of them and they’re all the same. Same pretentious people pretending they have taste. Once you’ve been to one you’ve been to them all.” 

The words that come out of your boyfriend’s mouth have you audibly gasping, hand flying to your throat. “Lando.” You whisper, pain and shock coursing through your voice. 

You swear you feel a brush of fingertips on the small of your back but the touch is so light and so quick you think you’ve imagined it. 

Something flickers behind your boyfriend’s eyes then and it’s almost like he realizes he’s gone a step too far. His shoulders sag and he shakes his head. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry baby.” Lando reaches for you and before you can step away, he pulls you into his chest. He doesn’t miss the way you stiffen in his embrace though and neither does Max. “Please come inside and we can talk about it alone, okay?” He whispers, glaring at Max, clearly dismissing him. 

The way his arms used to feel around you was comforting, you’d seek his affection when you were anxious or upset and he would always take care of you but somewhere along the line, the affection you craved stopped being handed out so easily. Now, you craved it but only because if he was touching you it meant he wasn’t mad at you and maybe this time it would be different. Every time he showed you this kind of affection you hoped that this would be the time he would change. 

It never was. 

“Thank you for walking me home, Max. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” 

Worry lines crease the spot between his brows as he frowns. Everything in his body is screaming to put up a fight and not let you go inside with Lando. He knows if Charles were here and had just witnessed what he had, there was no way Lando would be leaving this building in anything other than a body bag but he wasn’t Charles and he didn’t have any entitlement to you. He wanted to fight but you weren’t his to fight for. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay Dovie?” 

Lando’s arms tighten around you at the nickname. He hates it and Max knows it. “She won’t need to, I’ve got her.” 

“You sure about that, mate?” Max asks, one brow tipping up in question. 

Without waiting for a reply, Max turns on his heel and walks towards the elevator. In his pocket, his fingers curl around his phone because the moment he gets out of the building he knows exactly who he’s going to be calling: Charles. 

As soon as Max leaves and your behind closed doors, the mask slips again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, walking home with Max fucking Verstappen? And hugging him?” Lando is pacing the floor of your living room as you stand there, helpless to say anything against his raging. 

It’s usually like this when he gets angry with you and you’ve gotten good at being quiet while he rages. You have to let him work out all the anger and eventually you know he’ll calm down and apologizes for losing his temper. You’ve seen this before and you know exactly what to do, how to humor the angry beast that has surfaced once again. 

“Lando, it wasn’t like that and you know it.” You fight to keep the exasperation out of your voice, knowing that would just set him off even more. “I was alone, my brothers were going in the opposite direction, and Max offered. That’s it! It was completely innocent.” Despite yourself, you try to reason with him.

“You should have just gone home with your brothers then instead of putting yourself in that position.” He snaps and you glare at him. 

“You would have rather me not slept here at home tonight than take an offer from a friend to walk me home? All because you didn’t follow through with what you said you’d do?” 

You know you’re pushing him and Lando doesn’t like to be pushed. Your conversation with Charles two weeks ago flickers through your mind. How you deserve better and it strikes you then that everyone but you can see it. Everyone around you, everyone that loves you can see how bad he is for you, how poorly he treats you and how much you’ve changed since you started dating him. 

You supposed that if you had changed for the better, maybe everyone who loved you wouldn’t have anything to say. Don’t people change for the people they love all the time? You were sure they did but you weren’t sure you liked the change you saw in yourself anymore. You couldn’t fight it, this change that felt like you were wearing shoes that were three sizes too small for your feet. Like you had outgrown yourself in a way that wasn’t okay and you somehow needed to find your way back to who you were before Lando. Before he broke you. 

“And avoid you causing social media chaos that I’m going to be dealing with for weeks now?” Lando sneers, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down his nose at you. “Yeah, absolutely.” 

You laugh, cold and bitter, as you shake your head. “Thats real nice Lan, real nice.” 

“I’m just saying. Now the rumor mills are going to start up again. Whenever you’re at a race, people will be watching to see if you’re with Max again. Or maybe next time it’ll be Lewis. Or maybe you want to go a bit younger? Get a ‘friendly escort home’ from one of the rookies? I’m sure Franco would love to try his hand with you. My girlfriend, the paddock bunny being passed around.” 

The ache in your chest grows as he chooses his words carefully, barbed and sharp as glass, so they hit their intending target, cutting through you like butter and causing mortal damage.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” You whisper. “I’m sorry that the pictures hurt your feelings and were taken out of context but you don’t have to be so mean.” 

Tears threaten to spill and you will them to stop, knowing that will only fuel Lando’s fire. He loves when he upsets you like this, when he gets to tell you what a drama queen you are. Just like your brother, he would say, always whining and crying on the radio about how Carlos wasn’t being a team player and letting him win when he didn’t deserve it. 

“If I’m not the one to give you a reality check, then who will? Your entire family has coddled you for your entire life and you think you deserve some level of respect that you haven’t earned. If you deserved that kind of respect, you would have gone home with your brothers or walked home alone. People who deserve respect don’t put their relationships in jeopardy because they’re afraid to be alone at night.” 

“Put our relationship in jeopardy?” You laugh again, rolling your eyes at the audacity of what Lando is saying. “Lan, you really are being a bit over dramatic here, don’t you think? I’m sure the PR department at McLaren will take care of this by the next race, no big deal.” 

Lando laughs, dark and bitter as he takes a step towards you. You have to fight the urge not to flinch when he gets closer to you. Deep down, you know he’d never raise a hand to you but it’s hard to remember that when he gets in your face like this. “Now you expect McLaren to clean up your mess?” He hisses. “God, you really are a spoiled little girl, aren’t you?” 

“I’m just trying to find a solution to the problem that I seem to have caused.” You snap back, courage flaring in your chest as you stand up a little straighter. Max’s words from earlier play back in your head: ‘anyone with eyes can see who the problem is in your relationship’. “What if I come to the next race? If the two of us turn up in the paddock together, that will help quiet the rumors, don’t you think?” 

Lando narrows his eyes, “So you can get more attention from Max? Absolutely not. I’ll have McLaren handle this, okay? Just forget about it.” 

You want to scream at his solution because it was the same exact thing you had literally just suggested and been laughed at. But that was the way Lando was. If it wasn’t his idea, it was the worst thing you could have suggested. As long as it was his idea though, it was brilliant and the perfect solution to everything that was wrong. You should have anticipated this coming but you knew it was useless to fight with him. 

All at once, your body is overcome with this total wash of exhaustion. Total mental and physical exhaustion grips at your throat and you sway on your feet. “I’m going to go to bed.” You choke you. “In the guest room.” You tack on before turning on your heel and walking away from the fight like you do every time. Lando always gets the last word and as he stands there alone in the living room he feels like he’s won this one. He’ll have to call Sophie in the morning to get her to start working on damage control but for now? For now, he’s sure you realize your mistakes and you won’t put a toe out of line like that for a long time. 

Little does he know that all he’d done tonight was push you past your breaking point. 

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