#she's so tiny he could find her sweet spot without even trying

[happy-is-thirsty]

Just thinking about Yachi squeezing around Tendou's long fingers as he slides them into her tight heat.

[katyawooga]

sevika x hyperfemme reader raegahhahhehaaaaaaa

ummmmmm Yes ..... teehee

apologies if this isn't nsfw... i'm still trying my best to get more comfortable with it :3 i hope u enjoy it nonetheless, anon :)

men and -16 dni please

you were a new hire at the drop, and weren't you just the cutest little thing? you had lost count of the amount sleazy guys who showed up to the bar (already drunk) and asked you the same cliché of, "what's a pretty thing like you doin' in a place like this?" and it had only been a couple weeks.

to be fair, you looked very different from the average person living in the undercity. you were put-together, dressed well, and oh so feminine. your hair was always perfectly styled and your makeup was applied with absolute precision. no one could find a single flaw when it concerned your appearance, and you wanted to keep it that way.

the only complaint you’d have, though, was the uniform the drop had you wearing. not only was it ugly, but it was so not your colour. deep greenish-grey? please, you looked your best in reds, whites, and pinks. and if it couldn’t get any worse, they had you wearing pants. not jeans, not tights, not even shorts — ugly straight-leg slacks. that simply wouldn’t do.

the night you swindled your way into wearing a miniskirt during your shift, sevika was in her corner playing people into the ground at poker. you always loved serving her; she gave you the sweetest compliments and actually seemed in the right mind to give them without objectifying you.

with a serving plate flat on your palm, you started strutting your way over to her table to deliver her drinks. you would’ve made it there unscathed if some cross-eyed oaf hadn’t bumped into you and knocked you to the ground. the drinks shattered and you scuffed your knee and your elbow on the raw cement floor. looking around you at the spilled mess of alcohol and broken glass on the ground, you whipped your head up and glared at him.

“watch where yer goin’, girly,” he spat his words at you, scoffing as he stomped his way to sevika’s poker table. she saw what happened first-hand and wouldn’t have it.

“you,” she barked at the man, quickly standing up from her seat and slamming her hand of cards on the table. she didn’t care about the game or if her hand was visible. she grabbed the guy by the crotch with her mechanical arm which was almost always covered by the red cape she wore over her body. the man pitifully squealed at the pain and his eyes went wide.

‘did’ya really tell this girl to watch where she was goin’?” she sneered at the man, and when he didn’t answer right away, her grip on his nethers tightened.

“y-yes! that bimbo p-probably doesn’t know h-her lefts from her r-rights…! ow!!!”

sevika wasn’t satisfied with the language being used to describe you. you had gotten yourself back up on your feet and you stood to the side a little timidly, holding the elbow that took the blow when you fell.

“if you don’t want a free facial reconstruction from yours truly,” she growled in his face, her eyes almost glowing magenta. “you’ll apologize to 'er.”

“w-wha— no!” his eyes went wide, obviously she was hurting his pride. “she ran into m—”

the poor guy couldn’t even finish his sentence before he was knocked out with a single punch and sent flying to the ground in a much more violent way than you had. after a small chuckle, sevika took a few steps toward you and gave you a sentimental look.

“y’alright, sweet thing?” she asked, looking you up and down and spotting your scraped knee and the bleeding elbow that you weren’t doing a very good job at hiding. “i’ll have someone take care’a the mess for you. would it be alright if i took care’a you tonight, though? what he did was no way anyone should treat a lady, especially not one as beautiful as you.”

her compliments and her request to possibly take you home caught you off guard. you stammered and adjusted your tiny skirt from the nerves before giving a shaky laugh.

“i, um… my shift doesn't end ‘til midnight, i don't wanna make you wait that long, …?”

“sevika.” she finished your sentence, her name stupidly having slipped your mind. the gloss that shone on your lips, even in the dim yet colourful lighting of the bar, distracted her. “an’ i have no problem stayin’ late if it means beating some morons into submission at poker and spending some time with a gorgeous girl like yourself.”

her deep, smooth voice was insanely easy on the ears. so easy, that you barely processed any of what she said to you. she brought you back to earth when a finger on her human hand twirled itself around a ringlet curl that had fallen into your face from the tumble. you chuckled and looked down, still not believing you were being hit on after getting pushed to the ground and eating shit like that in front of her.

“yeah, sure,” your cheeks burned red with your acceptance of her offer, but it was difficult to see from the powder blush you already had on your cheeks. god, with the way you present yourself, sevika could go dumb just thinking about the kinds of girly moans and whines she could work out of you.

“i’ll be waitin’ for you, baby doll.”

my requests are still open for this week! i have a week off from uni, so i'd love to get writing again :>

and if you'd like to be added to my taglist, just send an ask!

tags : @archangeldyke-all @gh0ulte4rs

[rikosseen]

Lookism x Reader: Family

Anon ask | ft. Goo Kim and Jake Kim

You let out an exasperated groan, slapping your forehead as your mischievous little Goo pulls down his father’s pants, cackling like a villain in the making. Your husband screeches in indignation and, without missing a beat, hoists the child upside down by his ankle.

“YOU LITTLE BASTARD!” he roars, dangling his pint-sized doppelgänger like a ragdoll.

“Jonggoo, put him down,” you command, unimpressed.

The blonde man glares at you, but instead of complying, he only tightens his grip.

“Jonggoo,” you repeat, tone sharper now.

With a dramatic huff and a self-important scoff, he begrudgingly sets the child down. Your son immediately runs to you, giggling and sticking out his tongue at his father. Goo scowls, feeling betrayed, and pulls his pants back up, glaring at you as though you are the one at fault here.

.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Jonggoo sniffles, a pitiful, wounded expression on his face.

You glance at him, utterly baffled. “What are you on about now?”

“That! That thing! You love him more than me! This is favouritism!” he howls, pointing an accusatory finger at the innocent child. Your son, completely unfazed, is happily waving around a small figurine, blissfully unaware of his father’s melodramatic tantrum.

The moment Goo spots the figurine, his face pales, and he springs forward, clearly horrified by the sight of it being in the hands of another. You exhale a long, resigned sigh, one that mixes both pain and mild amusement, as you watch your husband wrestle with the tiny tyrant. If Goo wasn’t already a source of constant chaos, now you have a pint-sized clone of him who, if anything, is even more devilish. And, as Goo himself has pointed out, it’s you who clearly favours this miniature menace.

You can’t help but smile as you sit back, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle of Jonggoo Kim being completely outwitted by his own child. It’s moments like this that make life so much more amusing. Who could possibly complain?

Jake is absolutely thrilled to have a little version of himself running around the streets of Big Deal. It fills him with such pride, it almost brings a tear to his eye whenever she helps out at the shop, or when she eagerly volunteers for something even slightly daring. Every time he watches her, he’s convinced that you two should have another. Maybe even enough to form a soccer team—though he’s not ruling out a whole army of little ones, just in case.

You chuckle at his enthusiasm, but turn him down, mostly because you can’t help but adore the way Jake pouts when he doesn’t get his way. He’s so genuine, so open with his feelings—it’s impossible not to find it completely endearing. The way he wears his heart on his sleeve just makes you smile.

.

As you continue chopping garlic, you feel Jake’s arms slip around your waist, pulling you into his warm embrace from behind. Your body relaxes, and your features soften even more at the contact. A weight tugs at Jake’s leg, and the two of you look down to see your little ray of sunshine, your sweet bundle of joy, brightening up the morning. Jake lifts her up with a grin, showering her with kisses, and you hurry to wash your hands so you can join the fun.

Your daughter giggles and squirms in his arms, trying to wriggle free as she laughs, “Daddy, stop it!” Her voice is full of delight, but Jake just grins even wider, continuing his gentle assault of tickles and kisses. The whole house is filled with laughter, the kind that makes your heart feel so full, you think it might burst from happiness.

As you finish drying your hands, you glance over at the father-daughter duo, both of them smiling so brightly, wrapped in their own little bubble of joy. Watching them together, you realise that even though money may be tight and life isn’t always perfect, this little family of yours is everything you could ever need. That kind of love and happiness? It’s truly priceless. You can’t help but smile, thinking: who could possibly complain about something this perfect?

[fernclans]

MOON 07. (part 2) (tw; trauma, cliffhanger AGAIN sorry)

Starring: Dashpaw (BuddingClan), Cliffstripe (BuddingClan), Amberpaw (BuddingClan), Cougarkit (BuddingClan), Cowkit (BuddingClan), Pinekit (BuddingClan)

The sound of frantic pawsteps could be heard first, Amberpaw growing alert and rising from her spot near Cliffstripe where they’d been chatting. Part of his hearing damaged by his loss of an ear, it seemed the ginger warrior was unaware something was approaching before his companions demeanor changed, looking up at her quizzically with his remaining yellow eye.

“Someone’s coming.” She meows simply, fixated on the camp's entrance. Cliffstripe pulls himself into a sitting position, trying to prepare himself for anything.

Dashpaw is a blur when he breaks through the clearing; had it not been for the unfamiliar scent he carried with him, the ginger warrior might not have been able to tell that he even had a kit held firmly in his jaws. The half-white tom locks his eyes on Amberpaw, making a b-line to her and promptly placing the kitten a tail-length in front of her paws.

“I need you to look after him.” Without waiting for a response, he turns his head towards Cliffstripe. “Cliffstripe, I need you to follow me. There are two more kits still. Flippaw is running a diversion, but I don’t know how much time she’ll have.”

Cliffstripe nods firmly. “Got it.” In an instant, he’s on his paws, muscles tensing and preparing for a run.

“A diversion!?” Amberpaw shouts, looking desperately at Dashpaw for more details. “Dashpaw what-”

“There’s no time to explain right now! I’ll tell you everything in a bit!” In typical Dashpaw fashion, he’s gone before she could finish her questioning. Cliffstripe shoots her an apologetic glance before taking off after the other tom.

Giving a sigh, Amberpaw slumps back onto her haunches and looks down at the young kit that was placed at her paws. “Well, guess it’s just you and me, kit. I’m Amberpaw.” She offers the tan tabby a kind smile, thinking back to the time when Flippaw was still this small and hoping to StarClan the molly was going to be alright.

--

“Explain to me what’s going on.” Cliffstripe says firmly between the pounding of his paws. “What do I need to know?”

Dashpaw was a few paces ahead of him, leading the way. He doesn’t spare a glance back at the warrior, and hopes that his voice can be heard well enough from his position. “Flippaw and I were in the outer fields -- she smelled blood, I smelled a wolf. I tried to leave, but she found these kits instead-” He stops for a second to catch his breath before continuing. “-she said she was going to lead the wolf away so we could get the kits! She didn’t even give me a choice about it!”

Were it not for the severity of the situation, Cliffstripe would almost find it humorous; perhaps Dashpaw had rubbed off more on the younger molly than he had thought. “Did you find their mother?”

“I’m guessing that’s the source of the blood-smell.” Dashpaw shouts back grimly.

Try as he did, Dashpaw couldn’t catch a single trace of Flippaw’s current whereabouts; maybe that was for the best? Hopefully that meant she was successful in leading the beast away.

When they reached the remaining two kits, one of them had started crying out for its mother, the sound of her tiny voice causing Cliffstripe’s heart to ache. To lose one's family so young… He approaches the kit slowly, lowering himself to appear less threatening. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” The other kit, the blue one, hisses and lashes a tiny paw out defensively. Her sister waddles forward on unsteady paws and sniffs at Cliffstripe curiously.

“This is sweet and all, Cliff’, but we gotta be going.” Dashpaw warned, tail twitching nervously behind him.

Drawing himself back up, Ciffstripe licks at his chest, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Ah- no, you’re right.” He turns back to the pair of kittens and picks up the remaining brown and white she-kit, Dashpaw following suit and grabbing the cranky blue one before making themselves scarce.

--

By the time they return, Amberpaw has put a nest together for the kits; lined with downy feathers from an earlier catch, it seemed the mottled tabby kit Dashpaw had brought in before had already taken up residency within. With the other two kits placed into the nest, they greet each other excitedly, the blue kit pouncing sloppily onto her brother.

“Is that all of them?” Amberpaw asks, looking at the toms.

“These are all the ones Flippaw and I found.” Dashpaw confirms.

An uneasy silence fills the clearing at the mention of the spotted apprentice’s name. Her plan was so hurried that they didn’t take the time to discuss where they’d meet up after, where she planned to goad the wolf into chasing her, really anything.

“She’ll be okay.” Cliffstripe meows, causing the others to look at him.

“How can you be so sure? She’s only been an apprentice for two moons!” Amberpaw’s voice is harsher than she intended it to be, and she flinches back from her own voice. “I’m sorry for yelling, I just-”

Cliffstripe shakes his head. “It’s okay, I understand. Just believe in her, okay? Dashpaw did, I’m going to choose to do so as well. If Flippaw thought she could manage this, then I trust her.”

Amberpaw looks uncertain still, but remains silent and simply nods. As confident as she was in herself, she struggled to find the kind of trust that Cliffstripe seemed to have in everyone.

Seeming uncomfortable with just sitting around, the molly turns her attention back to the trio of kits and tries to usher them off of the nest. “Come on, I’ll bring you inside so you can sleep.”

Dashpaw fights the urge to argue their nest placements; now wasn’t the time. He looks back to Cliffstripe, worry knitted in his brow. “When should we go out to look for her?”

“When the moon is high. I want to make sure we give her enough time and don’t meet the wrong end of a wolf.” Again. He nods back silently, light-blue gaze fixated on the stars beginning to fill the sky. ‘StarClan, if you really exist… you better keep her safe.’

[anjelicawrites]

Because Michael finds math so easy, when he sees the pretty girl in his class and she distracts him, he loves the challenge. Math is hard (and it’s not the only thing) because he has to concentrate on the questions instead of her tits.

When he finally accidentally ends up with her, she realizes that he likes having to do problems while she distracts him. She tells him that if he can get all of the problems on a worksheet solved without cumming, she’ll give him a reward. He’s come very close a few times to getting them all done, but he has never managed to. Is he really expected to be able to do what would normally take him twenty seconds when she’s sucking him off or riding him or playing with herself??? One time he actually did a problem wrong because he wrote the wrong number down when she was moaning and bouncing on his cock wearing just a tiny crop top and the shortest skirt he had ever seen.

-🪴

Let's focus on that time he made a mistake, shall we, 🪴 anon?

Maths for Michael is an afterthought. He runs problems and equations in the back of his head while he's living through his life. That's why he accepted her 'little challenge': solve all the problems and equations written in one random page of one of his maths books while she 'distracts' him and "I'll let you have my arse, sweet Michael", she told him one night, back from a date. Michael didn't even ponder her proposal, he accepted immediately, all of his blood running to his cock at the thought of her tight, virgin arse at his disposal. He imagined he could win this challenge easily: how hard could it be?

Harder than his cock every single time she giggles and plays with her stupid pencil during class, apparently.

Michael groans, the pencil almost snaps with the strength he's using to hold it. He's desperate to keep his mind focused on the easy equation and he simply can't. The numbers swim in his head faster and faster as she bounces on his cock, moaning and whining at his girth.

She popped by his college room wearing a suspiciously long coat, a bit too warm for the incoming spring. She had jumped in his arms and kissed him soundly, pushing his glasses over his head, before standing in the middle of the room, letting the coat fall from her beautiful body with a giggle.

He had almost come on the spot at the spectacle of her frame, barely covered by a crop top that's more a sports bra, and a plated skirt so short it's more a piece of tissue than anything else.

"Do you want to try again?" She asked, already breathless and Michael didn't have to be asked twice.

"So big Michael!" She moans in his ear, squashing her breasts against his jumper. "Oh! There!"

She grinds against him, her cunt so wet and tight around his raging erection that his eyes cross and his hands shake violently as he tries to write.

He's sweating and whining when her hips start fast figures of eight shapes to house him fully. He can barely fit, she has to mold herself around him to bottom out, making him arch his back, trapped between her and his chair.

He scribbles hastily, desperate to finish before she does, his brain lost to the fog of pleasure that starts in his belly and burns through him.

He throws the pen on the floor, grabbing her hips to bounce her properly on his cock, his lips finding her nipples through the sheer material of the crop top to suck them savagely, biting the soft flesh as she's reduced to a rag doll in his arms.

He's fucking her with purpose, bullying her sweety spot and cursing at the way she tightens around him. Faster, harder, hands slapping her arse to make her move at his leisure.

She comes with a shout when he grabs her arse and forces her to grind against him, her clit sliding against his sweaty skin. He follows with a groan, pushing once, twice, deep and painful, sure to leave marks on her beautiful skin.

They don't even make it to his bed, having fallen on the floor with the stupid book next to them.

She's cuddling against his chest, rubbing her cheeks and giggling at the way the hairs there tickle her.

"Did you solve it?" She asks, since he's still reading his answer.

"No."

"Lemme see!"

She tries to grab the notebook from his hand when he doesn't share it with her.

They wrestle and laugh on the floor, until she's on top, her cunt enveloping his spent cock.

"Oh! You made a mistake sweet Michael." She giggles.

"I didn't. I was distracted!"

She throws the notebook away and bends to him, lips barely hovering his.

"I think you need a punishment for trying to hide it from me." She giggles with a dark glint in her eyes.

"What punishment? And it wasn't in our deal!"

He tries to hide how excited the idea makes him but fails, since she's sitting on his growing dick.

"I think you're gonna like it." She answers, sliding slowing down his body. "You're going to love it, actually!"

[vivienne-writes]

I'll Ingrain Your Touch Into My Memory

“That’s what it feels like when you touch me. Like millions of tiny universes being born and then dying in the space between your finger and my skin. Sometimes I forget.”

― Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You

“Come on, Ominis, just this once,” Poppy pleaded with the sweetest tone of voice she could muster.

It was a fine Saturday afternoon when Poppy managed to rope MC and Imelda into her latest venture: getting Ominis to describe what each of them may look like based on touch. They had spent all morning trying to track him down and poor Ominis, catching wind of their plans, spent all of his morning trying to escape their clutches. He would have tucked himself away in the Slytherin dormitory, but Imelda could have easily let them in.

He was headed towards the boathouse to plant himself there for the rest of the evening when Imelda, atop her broom, managed to spot him and corner him at the clocktower courtyard. Now surrounded by the trio, Ominis had no escape and Sebastian was nowhere in sight to help him.

“I’d like to go about my weekend without hexing anyone, if you don’t mind,” he grumbled angrily.

“It won’t take too long; I promise I won’t ask for anything else!” once Poppy has made up her mind, there was no swaying her.

“I’m not a plaything,” Ominis argued, although his resolve was weakening. He was tired and the thought of curling up for a nap sounded incredibly tempting. He’d much rather nap by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, basking in the warmth of the hearth, than spend any more time running away and hiding.

“Humor us, please?” you finally spoke up gently. Originally you accompanied Poppy to indulge her, but really, you were just as curious to see what Ominis’ would say. And maybe, although you refused to admit as much to yourself, you wanted to know what his touch felt like.

Little did you know, Ominis harbored a bit of a crush on you. He was under the assumption that he’d only have to feel Poppy’s face but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he got to touch yours too. And truthfully, he didn’t have the heart to deny you.

“If I do this, do you lot promise to never bring this up again?” he asked with a sigh.

“Cross our hearts,” said Imelda as she leaned against her broomstick.

“Alright then. Sweeting, you first,” Ominis reached out both hands which Poppy pulled to her face eagerly. He took his time, running his fingers over her nose, her forehead, her chin. He contemplated his answer thoughtfully. “You’ve a very soft face and I can tell you’re smiling. These dips right here, are these dimples?”

Poppy nodded, urging him to go on. Ominis felt her bangs, fingers twirling the strands down to the tips. “I didn’t realize you had short hair,” he muttered, more so to himself. “I think you live up to your namesake. You must have a very sweet, kind face. Also, you’re much shorter than I expected.”

“I can live with that!” Poppy beamed cheerfully. “Now your turn!”

She pushed you towards Ominis, whose heart began to beat so rapidly, he was afraid you’d realize how nervous he was. Maybe his feelings for you weren’t as insignificant as he thought they were. He wiped his hands anxiously on his robes, hoping you wouldn’t find them clammy or sweaty.

“I’m right here, Ominis,” you said as he reached out towards you. You took his hands softly in yours, placing them gently on your cheeks. You found them to be firm but so smooth, it took everything in you not to nuzzle your face into his palms.

Ominis, on the other hand, was struggling to focus. He had wondered countless times what it would feel like to touch you, your hands, your face. And here you were, warm and pleasant to the touch. He noted the curvature of your cheekbone, the delicate shape of your jaw, the flutter of your eyelashes against his skin. He brushed a thumb lightly over your lips, breath hitching ever so slightly as he took in their plumpness. His mind began to stray, wondering how your lips would feel against his. When he began to run his fingers through your hair, you had to stop yourself from letting out a moan. It took every ounce of self-control you had to stay grounded. Meanwhile, Ominis was wondering whether running a hand down your neck would be too much when Imelda pulled you away abruptly.

“Hurry up Gaunt, we don’t have all day,” she demanded, grabbing his hands forcefully. You were somewhat relieved she pulled you away. Otherwise, you would have stood there all night, entranced by the feel of his dexterous fingers. But it didn’t satiate your curiosity, it just made you crave it more.

“You have a strong forehead, quite the forceful chin,” Ominis mused, fingers wandering Imelda’s face now. “Yes, I think I have a good idea as to what you look like, Reyes.”

“Go on then,” said Imelda, smugly expecting a compliment.

“You’ve got a face only a mother could love,” he smirked cheekily. Imelda swung her fist, dropping her broom and narrowly missing Ominis’ face. She would have landed her mark if you and Poppy hadn’t jumped to pull her back in time.

“Have a good evening!” Ominis called over his shoulder as he began making his way back inside, Imelda’s insults ringing in the air. He was hoping to return to the privacy of his room to replay the memory of your touch over and over in his head when he bumped into Sebastian.

“You were here this whole time and didn’t step in to help me?” Ominis asked incredulously.

“Help you? I was doing you a favor,” Sebastian chuckled. “So, tell me, did she feel as good as you expected?”

“Don’t be so crude, Sebastian,” Ominis scolded, aware of the heat creeping up his face. But he couldn’t deny that your touch not only felt better than he expected, but it had permanently ingrained itself into his memory.

[centralperkchenford]

Chenford + Tim finding out Isabel revealed they were cops to Dara during the UC op hotel scene

I really liked this one!

The stakes are high, the water’s low, but this love is ours

Chenford + Tim finding out Isabel revealed they were cops to Dara during the UC op hotel scene

Lucy knew Isabel didn’t mean any harm when she blurted out to Dara that they were cops. She probably thought it was for the best and Dara would find out anyway. However Lucy was just a tiny bit annoyed that she had done it. What would have happened if Dara had blurted it to the guys after her? It would have put both their lives in danger. They could have been killed on the spot. And she had meant to question Isabel on exactly why she had blurted it out but everything had happened so fast so she never got the chance. Tim never found out either which was probably for the best. She didn’t want him getting mad at Isabel for a little mistake. A mistake that anyone could have made. But that little mistake had caught up with her.

And now here she was with a gun pointed at her head.

It had been a regular operation and Tim as always was her backup. A comforting thought to Lucy. But it still never got easier leaving him. Not being able to kiss him or hug him or just be physically close to him.

She knew he was right outside the warehouse she was currently in. He was ready to move if he thought something was wrong. The operation was suppose to be simple, but wasn’t that what they always say? Gabe Spencer and his goonies were supposedly bringing in guns from Mexico. She was acting as a girl who just wanted some extra cash, so she was the informer, telling the men how to get the guns in the US without being caught. And the thing was Lucy was so close to bringing this operation down. She just had a few more loose ends and then it would have been over. But then as she had been walking in the warehouse, someone had made her as a cop.

There was a fight and Lucy had surrendered with her hands in the air trying to calm down her breathing. She felt blood trickling down her cheek and she knew she probably had a black hair from where she had been hit in the midst of fists and chaos.

Tim was right outside. He will figure out something is wrong. It was the only comforting thought in Lucy’s head right now.

The man Gabe Spencer stared at her unrelentingly.

“You’re a cop.” He sneered and Lucy did her best to look confused.

“What are you talking about?” She said loudly. “I’m not a cop. Where’d you get that idea?”

Gabe Spencer laughed loudly. “I have a friend who had a run in with you and a blonde. She said the blonde revealed you were cops.”

Fuck. Lucy thought Fuck fuck fuck

“Well it wasn’t me.” She said trying to keep her voice level but she had a bad feeling about this. She knew Gabe didn’t believe her. There really was no way out of this situation. “I’m just what I told you I am- I’m just trying to make some extra cash.”

Gabe stared at her a smirk still on his face and she feels sick to her stomach. She hoped Tim was listening in. She hoped he was getting all the tactical stuff ready to come in a rescue her. She eyes the warehouse door warily, willing it to open.

“No I’m not mistaken.” Gabe said and he started to circle around her like a animal sniffing out its prey.

“Who is your friend?” Lucy asked still trying to sound like she had no idea what Gabe was talking about even though she knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Dara Tesca.” Gave replied. “Sweet girl. I thought she would take after her dad but..” he shrugged his shoulders. “She said you rescued her but she still thought it was weird.”

Lucy gulped. She replayed the moment in the motel room where Isabel had told Dara the truth. She had whipped around and stared at Isabel, who should have known that revealing they were cops was very dangerous.

“I don’t know a Dara Tesca.” She said weakly. “I’m telling you I am not a cop.”

Gabe just clicked his tongue and then pressed the gun to Lucy’s forehead. Lucy swallowed hard. This was it. This was the end. She had so many things left to do and say.

She never told Tim she loved him. She wouldn’t be able to tell Tim to not blame Isabel or himself. This wasn’t anyone’s fault but the man who pulled the trigger.

“I don’t believe you.” Said Gabe. “It’s just a shame when your little cop friends find your lifeless body we will be long go—”

The warehouse door crashed opened and there was shouting as Gabe’s men rose to the defense.

“Hands up! Weapons down now! You are surrounded!”

Lucy breathed a sigh of relief as the gun was lowered and she collapsed to the ground.

“Lucy!” She heard Tim’s voice from a distance but she was so weak she didn’t open her eyes.

She felt his large hands lift her up and then she was in his arms.

“Lucy.” He said into her hair. “You’re okay . I tried to get here as soon as I heard him say—”

Lucy opened her eyes a little blinking at him. “Tim I’m fine okay? It was scary but it’s over.”

She felt Tim nod and then he pulled away from her. His blue eyes shining with all sorts of emotion. Some she couldn’t name even if she tried.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Isabel revealed you were cops?”

Lucy shrugged her shoulders. “She made a mistake Tim. I didn’t want you freaking out on her. She thought she was doing the right thing.”

Tim sighed loudly and kissed the top of her head. “You still should have told me Luce.”

“What would that of done Tim? I never could have predicted this.”

Tim sighed again and muttered. “Okay. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

She tried to protest telling him she was fine and she just wanted to go home. But Tim was stubborn and she knew she wouldn’t win.

Once outside Tim ushered her toward a ambulance to get checked out.

“You will need a few stitches on your cheek and you are going to have an ugly black eye.” Said the paramedic. “But other than that you are going to be fine.” Lucy nodded at her. Tim was still standing there studying her.

“Luce are you you are okay?” He asked. “It’s okay to—”

“I’m fine okay? I just want to get stitched up and go home.” He nodded and squeezed her hand.

“Okay Lucy okay. I’ll see you at the hospital.” And he kissed her uninjured cheek, holding his lips there for a few seconds. When he pulled back he brushed some hair out of her eyes.

“Lucy.” He began. But she shook her head at him.

“Later Tim we will talk later.” She whispered to him. He nodded reluctant to let her go but he did.

She watched him as they loaded her up in the ambulance and he still had that worried look on his face.

I am fine. I am alive. That’s all that matters.

Lucy got to the hospital before Tim and was already settling into the bed they had ready for her. She just wanted to get out of there.

“Hey.” Came a soft voice from the end of her bed. Lucy looked up to see Isabel standing there tentatively as if she was afraid to come in.

“Hey!” Said Lucy. “What are you doing here?”

“Tim called me to read me the riot act. Lucy I am so sorry. I thought—”

Lucy cut her off before she could go any farther. “It’s okay Isabel. I don’t blame you. It was a mistake.”

“You could have been killed.” She whispered and she moved past the curtains so she was closer to the bed. “ I could have been the reason you died. Tim.. he’s so different. He’s so happy. I could have taken that from him

“That’s everyday on this job. Especially when I’m undercover. Tim understands this better than anyone I know.”

Isabel nodded but she still looked unconvinced.

“Look. Was I a little shocked you said that? Sure. But nobody could have predicted this. It happened and it’s over with. I’m fine.” She gestured to herself. “I’m still breathing and that’s all that matters.”

“Tim was really mad. I don’t think I have ever heard him that upset.”

Lucy sighed and shook her head. “Let me worry about Tim okay? He was just a little shaken up.”

Isabel shook her head vigorously. “You don’t understand Lucy. I have never heard him like what he was on the phone. He was angry and upset. He never sounded like that with me.”

“Isabel you know how he was when you went undercover.”

“Of course. He was scared. He waited with baited breath for me to get home. But it wasn’t the pure panic that I heard today.”

Lucy just stared at her not knowing what to say. She knew how hard it was for Tim when Isabel went undercover. He went through so much and still ended up losing her. It was the same with her, he kissed her a little longer every time she walked out the door.

“Hey Luce how are you—” Lucy looked up to see Tim, he wasn’t looking at her though. His eyes were on Isabel and he frowned.

“What are you doing here?” He snapped.

“Just came to see how Lucy was doing and to say sorry. I—”

“I said it was fine.” Said Lucy before she could go on. “Thanks for coming by Isabel.”

Isabel smiled at her and then looked at Tim her smile fading a little. “Tim I truly am sorry.”

Tim nodded stiffly at her and then headed over to Lucy’s side. “The nurse said they would be here in a minute.” He said quietly and he grabbed her hand like he needed it as a lifeline.

Lucy smiled at him gratefully and then nudged his arm a little. “She came to apologize Tim. The least you could do is hear her out.”

Tim sighed and turned his body turned Isabel who was standing awkwardly at the end of the bed.

“Isabel. You know the risks of undercover. How could you just reveal something so important. You both could have been killed!”

“I know. I was panicked. Like I just needed Dara to understand she was in danger. It was stupid and I am sorry.”

Tim sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. “It’s okay. I just was so scared. Like terrified.” And now he was talking more to Lucy than Isabel. “I was trying to get in there as soon as possible but—”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Isabel smile and walk away. Lucy reached out for Tim to come closer.

“You did your job Tim. And you got to me I knew you would.” She said and she reached out to cup his face. “You always do.”

“How do you always have so much faith in me?” He asked. “It’s like this unwavering belief that I will always be there.”

Lucy bit her lip and pulled back from Tim. “Because I love you.” She said softly. “And I put my faith in people I love.”

They had not said I love you yet but Lucy had known it was coming. She had felt it on the tip of her tongue for months.

Tim smiled at her and saw him blinked back the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“I love you too.” He whispered. “And I will always find you.”

“Always.” Lucy whispered back. “Always.”

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Out of curiosity - you've written Dreams au for Prompto and Ardyn kickstarting the Reunion, plus the Gladio version that became canon.

But what about Ignis? How would the verse where he finds Noctis first look like?

Not gonna lie. This one had me stumped. I never considered that Ignis might be the first to find Noctis (my mistake) and so didn't even have an incling about how it might happen. Until about half an hour ago, that is, when an idea fell from the sky. Or my shower head. Depending on the point of view.

(I wrote this really fast, so it doesn't fit stylistically into the Deep City verse. When I have time, I'll try to write a 'proper' version.)

***

You could say this starts around Noctis's 17th birthday. Ignis hasn't been doing well. Not at all. His friendship with Gladio is splintering like rotten wood and his uncle as been... distant lately.

Ignis does his best to bury his worries with work, but that's only helping so much. What with his work now being a glorified secretary for whatever ministry, board or committee will have him at the time. Still, Ignis does his best. What else can he do?

So, that one fateful day, on Noctis's 17th birthday, when the hurt is rubbed fresh and raw again and there is no work for him to do...

Ignis bakes.

He tries, once again his best, to recreate that one sweet pastry from Tenebrae Noctis liked so much and Ignis could never get right. Once he's done, he goes outside and somehow finds himself in a park in a working class area. Later, he will think is has been fate.

Right now, he doesn't care, strangely glad for being outside his usual haunts, and unpacks the pastries he has brought.

Their taste is warm and creamy and so sweet Ignis can practically feel his teeth rotting in his mouth. Was that the right taste? he wonders and hates that he will not get an answer.

"Yer usin' the wrong types of berry," an old, creaky voice says behind him.

Ignis whirls around and whom he finds fits the voice very well. It's an old woman, bent and with wrinkles deeper than he has ever seen. Her hands are bony and full of spots. Her dress looks more like it's been made from patches than proper fabric. The smell of freshly baked bread hits Ignis's nose.

"Excuse me?" he asks.

"Tha' pastry o' yer's," she says in the strangest accent Ignis has ever heard. "Them berries're too sweet. Yer'll need them from northern Ulwaat. T's colder there, so they need ta be more hardy. 'Too sweet' tha' prince o' yers would say."

Ignis feels ice cold dread creep up his spine. Does this woman know Noctis? Does she have soemthing to do with his disappearance?

"Now, now laddie. Get those thoughts outta yer head. Ah'm simply following the fire to where it'll lead me."

"What...?"

"Fire, laddie. It knows ye got to play a part in the storm ta come, and it likes ye. So Ah'll make sure ye know wha' ta do once the time is right."

"I'm afraid I do not know what you are talking about, Maselle. Excuse me, I have work to do."

Ignis turns around, intend to leave the obviously mentally unstable old crone behind him, but her next words make him stop.

"None o' tha', Ignis Scientia. There's no work waitin' for ye today. Yer uncle is teachin' yer cousin Paxil in the hopes he'll not be a disappointment, an' yer friend'll not get a diagnosis fer his sister t'day."

Slowly Ignis turns around. "Are you threatening me?" he asks, low and dangerous. One hand his inconspicuously reaching for the dagger he never goes without these days.

"Ye can leave tha' dagger where it is, laddie. Ah'm not threatening ye, simply sayin' things how they are."

"How do you know all this?" Ignis finds himself asking through the fog in his mind.

"The fire, laddie. Once ye know how ta listen, it'll never stop tellin' ye things," the crone says and waves her hand in a way that makes it clear that she wishes for him to follow. "Come," she says. "Ah'll show ye."

And against his better judgement - and the usually so large, but now tiny rational voice in his head baring warnings at him - he follows.

Nearly three years later, he stares at the fire burning between his fingers, and follows it's call deep into the ancient bowels of the city.

[therentyoupay]

She can tell that they’re talking about her (or half-talking, who knows) the moment she steps out of the room. They could be trying to re-evaluate their current situation, perhaps, which isn’t precisely what she’d been hoping for. She is a guest, but she is also an intruder; she is welcomed, but she also feels very much the third wheel—whether they want to see it that way or not. Elsa swirls the water in her glass, thinking of Anna and poor (past, current) decisions and True Love gone horribly, horribly wrong, and what it means for all of them now.

So much for finding a solution.

Elsa drinks and refills her small glass two times before she considers herself ready to venture back out and watch the easy, friendly interactions of her sister and her sister’s roommate. When she shuts off the tap, she realizes that someone else has already entered the kitchen.

“Hey,” says Jack, gently, as soon as she has the courage to turn around. He looks twitchy and uncertain, and a little off-balance. He keeps trying to stick his hands in his pockets, only to realize that his pajama pants have none. “How’re you doing?”

Elsa’s smile is genuine, if not very tired; it’s late, and she’s not really enjoying herself, after all. She opens her mouth to make an excuse, then realizes—there’s no need. What comes out is a sigh instead.

“Sorry,” she laughs, then hums. “I’m actually pretty tired.”

It’s a little disconcerting—and also a tiny bit sweet—to see how quickly and how powerfully Jack associates this feeling of Elsa’s with his personal interference this evening. She can tell from the gape of his mouth, the wince to his eyes, and by the slant to his shoulders that he feels guilty, which is—well. Which is currently how Elsa is feeling too, so now what are they supposed to do about it?

Jack’s face contorts, then goes unhelpfully blank. Dissatisfied with his absence of pockets, Jack instead hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his pants. He does not seem to realize the effect this has on the amount of skin visible at his stomach… particularly the lower abdominals, where they cut into the faintest shape of a V over his hips. Before she can tear her eyes away, she catches the unsettling sight of a fine dusting of hair down his navel, disappearing into the low-slung, pulled-down waistband of his pants. Her eyes jerk back to his, prepared to fight or fly, but Jack is not looking at her directly.

“I promise we’re usually… more fun than this?” Jack scratches at the back of his head, uneasy and avoiding her gaze. “Or, like… I don’t know. I’ve just… had a weird day, is all? I really didn’t mean to take over your night.”

Elsa looks down into her water. “That’s very… sweet,” she concedes. “But it’s not necessary. You didn’t do anything wrong, especially not by coming home to your own apartment.”

“Yeah, well. I mean.” He shrugs. “You’re bored.”

His voice is calm, but his posture claims that he is personally affronted by this. Like this is a matter of personal responsibility. Elsa finds herself grinning a little in amusement; it’s not like she doesn’t know what that feels like.

“I like being able to see your friendship in action,” she claims teasingly, but Jack is not having any of it.

“Yeah, well, what about you? I mean—where’s your action?”

Elsa raises a single brow.

“That’s not—that’s not what I meant.” Jack heaves an exasperated sigh. “Look, I just wanted to come in and apologize, because I’m feeling kind of like a selfish douchebag, and I just wanted to let you know that there’s a spot on the floor with your name on it, if you want it.” He seems to think better of himself. “Next to Anna, I mean. On her side.”

Elsa nods, slow and sage. “Very appropriate,” she manages, without cracking too much of a grin.

“Yeah. Yes. Right.”

Elsa waits a beat. “All right. Thank you.”

“Course,” says Jack, and stands there.

She nods slowly to herself, and tries not to drown in the silence. She can feel the familiar stirrings of panic begin to wake inside her, but two deep breaths help her to recenter before the feeling has a chance to emerge. Jack seems to be waiting for an answer, she realizes.

“I’ll just be another minute,” she announces awkwardly, and Jack trips over himself as he straightens and turns back to return to the living room.

“Right. Totally. Yeah, we’ll see you—just a minute.”

Elsa is left alone in the kitchen once more.

————

start from the beginning of livable 🎄🎁❤️

[ravenrose18]

Shadows of Destiny

Chapter 3

As they pulled into the junkyard lot, Dean took a deep breath. They were safe because they were home. He pulled the car to the side, making sure that Bobby wouldn't complain too much about him blocking the lot or the trucks or the trash man. It was Bobby. "Home sweet home!" He beamed, glancing up in the mirror at Raven. He knew Bobby would be happy to see her but also he knew that she was expecting a massive lecture. "Sam. Why don't you take the bags in and let Bobby know we made it? He can order a pizza or something. I want to um...give Raven a breather before we go in." "Um. Yeah. Sure. Everything okay?" Sam asked and Dean waved him off. "Yeah! I just want you to butter him up real good before she comes in. No dad talks." "Got it. No dad talks." Sam confirmed, snatching the keys from Dean's hand, before climbing out of the car and grabbing the bags from the trunk. Dean got out and opened the back door for Raven, staring off into space as he waited for her to get out, "Let's go for a walk." Raven filled her lungs with a deep breath as she laid eyes on the familiar junkyard. It had been two years since she left, and she hadn't spoken to Bobby during that time. She had missed him, although she was relieved to have left the town behind. However, she knew that the demons from her past weren't finished with her just yet. Looking up at Dean, she mustered a smile before stepping out of the car to take in the unchanged landscape of the junkyard. "Sure, Dean," she replied, allowing him to close the car door as she ventured forward. "Same cars. Same leaky roof. A few more stray cats. Just like you left it." Dean sighed as he walked beside her, their shoulders brushing. He walked them toward the tiny garden Bobby kept hidden behind a wall of cars. He would never admit to loving gardening, but the boys knew he was very proud. "I just thought we could walk some of the tension off. No sense in going into meeting up with everyone all at once. And I had to tell you, without Sam butting in with his...bodily noises...I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad you're home. I may be horrible at showing it but we're family, you know?"

Raven offers a gentle smile as she strolls beside him, noticing the garden that she has never seen before. It seems like Bobby has taken up a new hobby. Instead of merely assisting hunters with research, as evidenced by the multitude of books he has collected over the years, he has now ventured into gardening. "I understand, Dean. I'm truly grateful to be home and safe. I can't believe I made it out of that situation alive. It's unnerving to think that my inability to handle the demon properly has put us in this perilous situation. A demon is trying to track me down and end my life. However, your concern and reassurance mean the world to me. Even just a hug or your comforting words can provide so much comfort. I know you find it difficult, but you're good at it." She expresses.

Dean huffed a chuckle as she explained how difficult it was for him to show that he was soft. He was nice enough. He was polite to the people they helped. He even hugged a few! But it amused him. The reality was...he had a soft spot in him. And the truth was, he didn't like to admit it. "You're right I guess. If I have to lose a little bit of my street cred to make you more comfortable after what you went through, I can live with that." He teased, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk."Do you love him? The guy I mean. Like...if all of this was a demon thing, would you go back?" Raven's smile and giggles faded as soon as he asked her that question. Her expression turned to a frown, and she let out a heavy sigh. "I did love him at one point, Dean. But whether he was possessed or not when he started cheating and abusing me, I can't be with a man who treats me like I'm worthless. He made me feel that way every day," she confessed. "I've had the worst life out of all the hunting life. I thought I was going to be happy for once and have someone. I never dated anyone while doing this hunting stuff, you know. I did try when we were teenagers in school, but I hated hopping from school to school, and I ended up heartbroken anyway," she said, looking up at him with a mix of sadness and resignation in her eyes.

Dean frowned. Hearing Raven speak of the way the downward turn of her relationship had affected her killed him a bit inside. He met her eyes for a moment but looked away, snarling his nose. "I could have told you that dating around and getting attached was a bad idea. That's why I kept them all at a distance. Don't get attached." But he quickly changed the subject away from his habits, since she had never seemed very open to discussing the women he chose. "We can love people. But we don't get to have relationships, you know? I think we've all learned that the hard way at one point or another. But we stick together." He raised his eyebrows, making sure that she read his expression the way he intended. She was safe with him, and as long as she was near him, he would do everything in his power to protect her.

As they strolled together, Raven couldn't help but roll her eyes and cast her gaze downward. "I appreciate having you and Sam there to protect me, Dean. You've shielded me from those guys back in high school, even though I insisted they wouldn't harm me. Truthfully, I never truly connected with any of the guys I dated, knowing we'd have to leave every time. However, I must admit that your taste in girls back in school wasn't the greatest. I didn't feel the need to bring it up then, but those girls despised and bullied me simply because we were close. They believed I had stolen you away from them, and as a consequence, I faced their torment at every school we attended," she confessed, stealing a glance at him before lowering her gaze once more.

Dean frowned, tempted to shake his head at Raven's words about the girls he had essentially used in school. He had never planned to see them again. So, he didn't think of them...at all. "I never really thought about it. I mean, it's not like any of them thought I was sticking around. I made it clear...to most of them." He thought hard and eventually cringed at the thought that he had led them all on to believe they were in a relationship with him. He glanced back at her, "They were jealous because you had me. From town to town, it was me and you...constant. A lot of girls can't handle that."

Raven expressed her frustration by rolling her eyes, glancing at him, and shaking her head. "They always told me that you described me as just a sister to you and that you found me annoying and felt that I should go away. But I know they were being unkind, although it's all in the past now," she said, gazing at the garden as they strolled along. Dean shrugged, but he was taken aback by the fact that she was bothered by being called 'his sister'. He had always seen her that way, for the most part, because they were always...together, like he and Sam. But he brushed past that and figured he could pressure her for more of those feelings when the situation was more appropriate. "I never felt you were annoying. That part was just the jealousy talking." He confirmed, waving his hand. "I'm a little better now, right? Like...I'm a little better at communicating with people that I'm not the 'in love with you' kind of guy..."

Raven gazes at him and affirmatively nods, "You've improved, no doubt. But sometimes, women fail to recognize that. These days, it seems like all people do is hook up at bars. They don't see it as anything more than a one-night stand or as a reason to pursue a relationship. I guess I wouldn't know since I've never been in that kind of situation. And you, you've never been with someone for an extended time, except for that one girl you dated. You trusted her enough to tell her about our line of work.

Dean stopped and almost had a proud look on his face, at the fact that someone was giving him credit for being better. But then Raven continued and his shoulders dropped a bit. His habits were...well known. He took a lot of his frustrations and emotions out through getting wasted and having sex. He was just wired that way, from his teenage years on. But when she brought up Cassie, his nose crinkled for a split second in regret. "Yeah. Cassie was different. She got it. She never made me feel like a piece of meat or a freak. It was pretty easy to let her inside...and then she just, decided it wasn't what she wanted." He muttered, his voice a bit sadder than he meant to lead on. "I don't even know what a stable relationship would look like, anymore. It's not like we have had a lot of role models in that area."

Raven gazes at him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. "I'm sorry things didn't work out, Dean. It's her loss. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You're kind, caring, protective, and undeniably good-looking. But, you know, we never had any real role models to teach us about healthy and stable relationships. I even considered dating another hunter instead of someone who's not part of the hunting life." She pauses, reflecting on the challenges they've faced. Dean's brain once again caught onto how positively Raven was speaking about him. He almost brushed off her words about Cassie. But she was complimenting...him. She was complimenting his personality, and all of the things that he saw as negatives about himself. It opened a weird emotion in the back of his mind. "Um. Yeah. Yeah, me too. I've met a few people that honestly would be perfect but then there's the small problem of getting attached. We all seem to have a death wish." He stammered out, finishing a little more put together with the tilt of his head. "That's why the three of us just stick together."

Raven's gaze softened as she looked at him and offered a gentle smile. "Well, once we started hunting, we signed our death warrants. I'm just glad we have each other... we should, I guess, get back to the house. I'm sure Bobby wants to see me," she said, clearing her throat and looking down, absently fiddling with the fabric of her flannel sleeve as she began walking back toward the front of Bobby's place. She knew Dean was trying not to get attached to anyone, but she had always felt deeply connected to him. The thought of losing him was almost unbearable, but in their perilous line of work, she understood that the dangers were unpredictable and unavoidable. Dean sighed and nodded in agreement that they should probably go find Bobby. No matter how much he tried to stall if they didn't go inside, Bobby would find them. "Yeah. We should probably go find him before he finds us.", he teased. As she stepped away from him and started to walk toward the house, he quickly caught up with her and gently placed an arm around her shoulders, tugging her head toward him to place a quick kiss against her hair, "Just remember. He's happy to see you...no matter how grumpy he is. He hasn't changed a bit."

Raven looked up at Dean with a soft smile, her cheeks slightly blushing. "I know, but you know how he is. He's been very protective of me ever since he and John found me in the woods. He could never stay mad at me for long. He treats me like I'm his daughter, the one he never had. Although, I wouldn't be surprised if he hugged me and then gave me a playful hit on the head afterward," she said with a gentle nudge to Dean's shoulder. Raven then walked up to the porch, took a deep breath, and entered the house.

Chapter 4

[minniethemoocherda]

Put To The Test

A/N: EARTHSPARK SPOILERS! Takes place after my previous fics in this series but you should be able to read this fic without having read the others. After Bumblebee said one of Soundwave cassette's exploded I think I had the same thought as everyone else of holy shit did Rumble die? So my headcanon is basically this fic. I hope we see Rumble in the show! And I would like to see Frenzy hanging out with the Terrans too! Xxxxxxx

Ao3 link

Series link

Frenzy was starving. Which wasn't anything new. They had been in an influxing state of starvation since the war ended. But now Soundwave was gone and any semblance of stability had left with him.

For the first time that Frenzy could remember, there was no greater plan beyond finding energon and watching over her twin.

Rumble had never fully recovered from the explosion. It had shattered every inch of his armour leaving little left to hold together. Soundwave had welded him back as best he could but her brother had fallen into a coma that as much as she hated to admit, Frenzy was worried he would never wake up from.

They had placed him in an escape pod, scavenged from their first crash landing on this mud pool of a planet. It kept Rumble alive in suspended animation, if an everlasting coma could be called living. The empty sensation of nothing from their sparkbond made Frenzy's spark feel hollow. Even the pain of Rumble being hurt would be preferable to this emptiness. At least then she would know for certain that he was alive.

Frenzy knew Soundwave blamed himself for the accident but Frenzy knew that it was Megatron who was truly to blame. It was their former leader who abandoned them to live in squalor to the point of starvation. If it wasn't for Megatron, Soundwave would never have tried to eject Rumble on such low levels of energon.

Frenzy wanted nothing more than to blast their former leader to pieces but she knew that whatever remaining sense of responsibility had caused Megatron to hold back during their last fight. If she truly tried to take him down, he could destroy her with a flick of his fusion canon. The best thing she could do was wait in this grimy organic forest until Soundwave escaped. Because no matter how much he once used to act like it, Megatron wasn't their sire. And now he never would be.

A few hours later, Laserbeak returned, narrowly missing tree as he landed. Frenzy noted that it was taking him longer to return with every energon run. In his claw, he held out an energon crystal no bigger than an earth sized pebble.

"Couldn't you find any bigger?" Frenzy grumbled.

Laserbeak let out an indignant squawk and took the crystal back.

"Okay okay I'm sorry! Give it here." Frenzy apologised, trying to snatch it back from them.

After one last indignant squawk, Laserbeak crushed it in his claw and tipped half of the shattered crystals into Frenzy's servos.

Frenzy fought back a grimace as she swallowed the tiny shards. Although their kind could consume energon this way, she missed the sweet trickle of purified high grade that they used to steal from Megatron's private stash. But without any means to refine it, this was the only option Frenzy had if she wanted to stay alive.

"Halt Deception."

Frenzy nearly choked at the unexpected voice. Her optics darted around the surrounding forest. It didn't take long for her to spot the bot hovering above them.

It was the Autobot from the fight in the tunnel; the one when Soundwave got captured. Twitch, if Frenzy was remembering correctly. In Frenzy's defence she had been a bit preoccupied with her creator getting captured.

This Twitch must have spotted Laserbeak whilst he was out searching and followed them back to their makeshift camp. Laserbeak must really be lagging if he didn't notice an Autobot sparkling tailing him.

"Why? You looking to get swatted fly-bot?" Frenzy said, welding her weapon like an Earth baseball bat. Besides her, Laserbeak screeched, raising his talons.

But the Autbot paid their weapons no mind having spotted the escape pod half hidden in the bushes, Rumble visible from the dome of the glass coffin.

"Is he alright?" Twitch wondered, taking an subconscious hover forward.

"Stay away from him." Frenzy snarled, standing in front of him, any playful ness now dead in her tone.

Twitch jumped back at her tone, landing on the grassy undergrowth a few meters away. Frenzy watched as her optics darted between her and Rumble.

"He's your brother, isn't he?" Twitch asked although it was more of a statement really. The family resemblance between Frenzy and Rumble was obvious but there was something in those red optics, a recognition and understanding that made Frenzy think she knew first hand her need for precision. It was when then that Frenzy remembered that there had been another bot on the road; a sparkling exactly Twitch's age.

"My uncle is a doctor." Twitch continued, not needing Frenzy's confirmation. "His name is Ratchet. His conjux is a Deception so he won't refuse to help you."

Frenzy snorted at her explanation, as though every bot on the planet wasn't well aware of the tale of Megatron's personal assassin falling in love with the Autobot's CMO. Although she supposed the drone did have a point. Even before the war Rachet had been well known never to refuse help regardless of caste. And after Knockout's disappearance it wasn't as if there were any other medical available on this planet to help them.

"Fine. Whatever." Frenzy relented, the need to help her brother outweighing her distrust of any Autobot.

Twitch nodded and hailed Ratchet over her comlink, explaining the situation as best she could. It wasn't long before the medic himself arrived, unsprisigly with his sword welding bodyguard not far behind. Frenzy let herself feel a small sense of pride that they were considered dangerous enough to warrant the former assassins presence.

Leserbeak kept an optic on Drift whilst Frenzy kept a close eye on Ratchet as he inspected Rumble's frozen form.

"I can't perform a proper examination through the glass. I need to bring him back to my ship." Ratchet said.

"Why? So you can arrest him?" Frenzy snarled.

"No because if I try to remove him from his pod here without my equipment, he might die before I even have the chance to perform an examination."

Frenzy's vents hitched. Despite already knowing the bleakness of Rumble's condition, the bluntness of the words hurt.

Frenzy shared a look with Laserbeak who quickly nodded in agreement.

"Sure, whatever."

Frenzy loaded the pod through Ratchet's backdoor once the doctor had transformed into vehicle mode, before she climbed in after him. Even if her alt-mode hadn't been as useless for traveling as a cassette, there was no way she was leaving Rumble inside an Autbot without her to protect him.

Ratchet made no protest to her tagging along, heading away as soon as the doors were closed. Through the square windows, Frenzy watched as Laserbeak scouted ahead whilst Twitch and Drift flanked each of their sides.

Frenzy kept her digits atop Rumble's pod, stroking the smooth glass every time Ratchet sped over an upturned root. Even if Rumble couldn't feel her, the repetitive motion helped Frenzy remain calm as she the ground bellow them gradually even out.

She watched as they escaped the forest onto a road leading up to a secluded human dwelling. They stopped just past it, besides a Cybertronian ship parked in a field next door.

Drift having snuck ahead lowered the ramp for Ratchet to drive on board. With its large frame and glyph covered walls the ship was clearly Cybertronian. It was decked out as a mini hospital now but judging by its sleek design and poorly concealed weaponry she doubted that it had always been that way.

Ratchet de-transformered around them, leaving Frenzy disorientated on the floor whilst the doctor placed Rumble's pod onto the medical berth.

Carefully, so slow it was almost painful to watch, Ratchet opened the pod. Seeing her mirror image, comatose on a slab with no pulse detectable from her spark nearly forced the meagre energon crystals she'd forced down earlier, back up her intake port.

She felt Laserbeak nudge her servos. They didn't share the same spark bond as she did with her twin, but they didn't need to for Frenzy to understand what he meant. Go, I'll watch over Rumble.

Frenzy nodded before heading outside.

It had gotten dark now, the sun having finally hidden beneath the horizon. The cold air did little the chill her circuits that were now dangerously close to overheating as her worry continued to abside. She wished Soundwave was here so she could hide from the world against his spark.

"Ratchet is the best doctor I know."

Frenzy startled at the sudden voice. She jumped around to see the smiling face of Twitch standing before her. In her worry she'd almost forgotten about the Autobot sparkling that was the reason behind their current situation.

"Isn't he the only doctor you know?" Frenzy snapped back.

"My point still stands." Twitch stated, her optimism undeterred by the jab at her young age.

Frenzy watched the young bot sit on the dirty floor besides one of the four legged organic creatures that plagued the field they were in.

"This always helps me when I'm feeling upset." Twitch told her.

"I'm not upset." Frenzy denied. She thought about refusing to copy the sparkling out of principle but it wasn't as if anything she did or didn't do at this point was going to help Rumble in anyway.

So she sat on the ground next to Twitch. The grass of the field was surprisingly soft compared to the harsh undergrowth of the forest. Stretching out her pedes, she leant back against the cool metal of the ship. At the very least she didn't feel like she was about to purge anymore.

The organic creatures must've already been used to Twitch's presence as they showed no fear of the living metallic weapons. One even came over to her, taking an inquisitive sniff of her elbow.

"Aww I knew Fluffy Ears would like you!" Twitch exclaimed.

Frenzy didn't dare to move as the creature who was apparently called Fluffy Ears laid its head across her legs. Automatically, Frenzy stroked the soft weight, scratching behind their accurately fluffy ears. As it let out a low purr of please, in the darkness of night, Frenzy could almost convince herself that it was Ravage.

She buried her face against it's soft fur trying to hide the coolent leaking from her optics.

Twitch must've noticed though as when Frenzy finally looked up she had back up in the form of her fellow sparkling from the tunnel.

"Hey! I'm Thrash." The new bot said. "Can you show me how to play?"

He held out what looked like a homemade Aghartan electro-bass made with a broken piece of wood and an old bucket with four strings tying it all together. It was a poor attempt at distracting her but Frenzy decided to take it anyway.

"Not on that piece of junk." She told him.

Her own electro-bass was more an instrument of destruction than of music at this point but it still performed it original purpose.

She explained the basics to him which he actually picked up pretty quickly before showing him a couple of notes from various tunes. Mostly Cybertronian but the odd human song too. As much as Frenzy hated Earth she had to admit they did occasionally make some alright music. And the impromptu lesson did distracting her mind for what must've been at least an hour.

Just as Frenzy moved onto to showing him the riff of Teenage Dirtbag, she clutched her spark as it suddenly erupted into a flame that spread throughout the rest of her frame.

"Are you alright?" Thrash asked but Frenzy had already thrown the bass to the ground and was speeding back onto the ship.

Because there sitting upon the berth with that face of his that looked even stupider with confusion, was an awake and alive Rumble.

Not caring that she was surrounded by Autotbots she crushed him into a hug. His jointed creaked as she held him as close as she could, making up for lost time after only being able to touch him through glass for so long. Laserbeak joined them a moment later, trills of happiness escaping his beak as he nuzzled against Rumble's helm. But as Frenzy finally let go, it Apparently hadn't escaped Rumble's notice that some key people from the cuddle pile were missing.

"Where's Soundwave?" He asked.

"Gone thanks to them." Frenzy said, gesturing to the Autobots around them.

"Gone?" Rumble echoed. Frenzy felt the sharp stab of panic through their bond. Frenzy didn't care about the pain, relieved that she could feel anything through their sparkbond again.

"Arrested for war crimes." Ratchet clarified.

"Funny how those war crime are always forgiven after fragging an Autobot."

Frenzy couldn't hold back a smug snort as Drift's face plating turned the same shade as his markings.

Still, the sense of satisfaction didn't change the fact that they were currently creatorless, homeless and one bad day away from offlining due to starvation.

"Hey since your Dad is erm... well unavailable right now, you can borrow ours for a while if you want?" Thrash suggested, having followed them inside the ship. His twin was nodding enthusiastically.

Dad? Frenzy supposed the human term was probably the closest equivalent for what Soundwave was to them. Nobody could ever replace their creator but having a semi permanent roof over their heads and someone watching out for them was hardly the worst offer she'd ever received.

She felt Rumble send what felt like a shrug over their spark bond. He didn't really know enough about what was going on to have any better ideas. And Laserbeak would defer to whatever she decided anyway.

"Alright but that doesn't mean we're Autobots." Frenzy agreed. The sparklings were goody-two shoes but they weren't annoying. It was nice to hang out with bots nearer to her age that weren't related to her for a change. She could survive living with them until Soundwave broke out of prison.

Plus spying so much easier when you were working from the inside.

[justmybookthots]

Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands

I finally finished this book, after what felt like years. Technically, it's been six days, but given my excitement about it, I'm surprised I didn't finish it the day I got it (which was on the 16th). 

Make no mistake, this was a good and solid entry in the series. I like it almost as much as the first. There are definitely some things that this book does better than the first, and some books the first does better than the second. The problem with this second book is that it didn't grab me right away like the first one did, and even as I read to the end, I wasn't as captivated as I was with the first. That said, the first book was REALLY captivating until the last act, which made me tired.

I also need to mention that my brain is currently in a slumpy mode, which could be why it took me a bit longer to finish this book, and it may be why I wasn't as hooked. Anyway! Without further ado, let me get on to the review. 

Please beware of spoilers.

Things I loved:

POE, POE, POE. I knew he was coming back but I wish he had more screen time than he got. Regardless, he was EVEN MORE ADORABLE IN THIS BOOK THAN HE WAS IN THE FIRST, AND THAT'S SAYING SOMETHING. He was so happy with the tree Wendell got him and that people would come see his tree and he would say the sweetest, most endearing things, e.g. "Isn’t it wonderful? I have many friends now. My mother would be so pleased. ‘You are too shy, little one,’ she always said. ‘You must try your best to make friends, for those who are small cannot easily stand alone.’" How his speech tugged on my heartstrings!!! And I loved how he finds so much comfort standing in the shadow of Emily's knee, haha. It was so SWEET that he didn't even bat an eyelid when Emily showed up unceremoniously and he was like: Hello! Have you come for more bread? 

I love Poe. I love him so much. I hope we continue to see him. I think we may, given his new connection with Emily and Wendell.

I also adored the HECK out of Snowbell. Yes, I know we weren't supposed to like him (I think?) but I don't care. I loved how braggy and arrogant he was. I have a hard time visualising how he looks, but in my mind I just picture a tiny fox with a big mouth. And when he fell asleep on Emily's lap, I was SCREAMING AT HOW ADORABLE HE WAS. And yes, I know he took a big chunk out of Rose's ear but sometimes I like to conveniently forget these things. As Emily herself says (this part seriously had me laughing out loud): 

I am too pragmatic to be above flattering the common fae, even if they have recently dined on my friends.

Snowbell shrugged this off, but he stood a little taller, his ruff bristling. “I found you a path to the winterlands,” he said in a bragging voice. “It was easy! I simply looked about and found the way. But then I am not a bumbling mortal oaf.”

Good grief. “Indeed,” I said. “I was terribly impressed.”

“Ha!” he crowed. “It was easy!”

Speaking of Rose: wow. I started off not really liking him but then he tagged along and I developed an enormous soft spot for this man. I think he was such a valuable addition to the team and I'm happy he didn't end up just playing the role of an unlikeable antagonist/nuisance. There was a lot of nuance to his character that I enjoyed, but I also think that they weren't adequately resolved (e.g. How did he come to accept Wendell in the end? Or did he… ever?).

Our next side-character: Ariadne! At first, I was a bit unsure about her introduction to the story and wondered if I'd like her. I can't say I ever grew to be in love with her or anything, but the development of her relationship with Emily was wonderful, specifically in the last part when they entered you-know-who's kingdom. Overall, I'm pretty pleased with Rose and Ariadne's addition to the cast, and I think I know why they were added. It's because unlike the first book where the villagers made up the supporting cast, Rose and Ariadne took those spots this time.

There are more little things I enjoyed, such as Wendell's cat and her role in his illness. How the stepmother was taken down was also very interesting. 

I also found Wendell almost as much of a riot as the first, and I'm happy to say his personality hasn't changed much.

This book was fucking hilarious at parts. I'd literally laugh out loud at random sections. Wendell's statement here, for example: Assassins are a monstrous breed. Either they attack when you are at your worst, or they are having a go at you on your birthday. I have never known a more dishonourable profession. HE WOULD NOT LET GO ABOUT BEING POISONED ON HIS BIRTHDAY, I CANNOT. 

Now, onto things that I didn't love…

IMO, this book didn't need to be so long. The first half was so long with a lot of random things that happened that I didn't think needed to be there. Like the cast would end up in scary situations and then they would get out of it and then rinse and repeat. I suppose there might have been small clues being amassed from every ordeal but I think it could have been done in a more succinct way. After a while, it got pretty old and tiring. 

I wasn't the biggest fan of Wendell being poisoned. I suppose the author needed to nerf his tremendous powers or the conflict would be too easily resolved, but I just… it was worrisome. And also I'm so used to Wendell being this indefatigable light that seeing it being subdued was saddening. I do get this is mostly stemming from my personal preference and it definitely adds more 'flavour' to the plot to introduce the poison.

I felt it was too easy getting de Grey and Eichorn back. And after they both came back, it felt a little… anticlimactic? I wasn't sure why we needed de Grey AND Eichorn; I felt like just having de Grey alone as a missing character was better. Two missing characters just felt superfluous, and once they were both back after the first half of the book was spent hyping up their disappearance, I was like… "Okay. Now what?"

Also, we spoke so much about the faun since Emily had their foot (and the others had various parts of their body), but—we never really saw them! There was one little cameo in the epilogue but it's astonishing to me that a faun was the reason we got de Grey back at all, yet we never saw one. This isn't a major complaint, just a thought I had.

I don't think this should count as a complaint, since the author has countered this issue with introducing a supporting cast (made of Rose and Ariadne), but I will note that almost none of the villagers in this new setting were of major importance unlike the ones from the first book. I have mixed feelings about this, but again, not really a complaint. 

Okay, again, this is 100% my personal preference and should NOT reflect on the quality of the book. However, I am not a fan of closed-door sex scenes. To me, you either write a sex scene in detail or you don't include sex in your story at all. I feel like I'm missing out on a major factor in a couple's relationship (as in, re: fiction) when I don't know how their sex scene went down. What they are like in bed determines a lot for me. If the author didn't want to share details, then I would rather much prefer that they never had sex. It's a personal pet peeve of mine that occurred in this book, and I have to say it took some of the enjoyment from me. And yes, yes, I'm well aware that Emily would not bother to write any details about lovemaking in her journal (lmao), but if so, I'd rather they not have had sex at all. 

I wasn't a huge fan of Wendell not being that worried about Emily when she ventured to his kingdom and pulled off what she did. He said something like, "If I had been surprised at your feat, that meant I would not have thought you capable in the first place" and while I think that's great and sweet and feminist and all that, some worry and shock would have been nice. Again, just my personal gripe and it has no bearing on the quality of the book.

There's one part I wasn't the biggest fan of, and again, it's from personal preference: The Folk may scheme, but few bother with manipulation; it isn’t something that suits them, capricious as they are, particularly when they can simply enchant others into giving them what they want. I think this is where I realised Heather Fawcett's fae isn't quite like Holly Black's as I had assumed. The problem here is that I LOVE manipulativeness in fae, and they are often this way in the Cruel Prince series because they cannot lie. As such, they often use sophistry or some manipulation to get their way. Once more, this is just my personal predilection and there is nothing wrong with how Heather writes her fae; it just isn't entirely my cuppa as I had once hoped.

All in all (wow, that's a lot of points under the dislike section, oops), I DID like this book. I really enjoyed it.  Whenever the next book comes, I will be here, waiting for it. It will be very interesting to see how the author will take the story next. While I can't say it will be among my top favourites of all time, I'm glad it existed and for the fun, laughs and giggles it gave me.

- 22 Jan 2024

[justtluffythings]

HOME: Book 7 - CHAPTER ONE

MASTERLIST

“I can’t believe this is our last year at Hogwarts! We’re going to be graduating soon and going out into the wizarding world and finding jobs and being adults. This is crazy!” Veronica beamed as she jumped in her seat and gazed out the compartment window. 

As Charlie sat across from her, he wondered for the millionth time how she was a Beater. Off the pitch, Veronica was the sweetest person he had ever known. Of course she could stand up for herself when she needed to, as she had done so many times with Archie, but for the most part, she was bubbly and outgoing and the most caring and sweet person ever. But on the pitch, she was a completely different person. On the pitch, she was ruthless, even with him, and he absolutely loved it. He loved her, more than anything, he just wished he had the guts to tell her. 

“I’m going to take a walk through the train and see if I can spot Art. I want to yell at him for not writing to me this summer. I haven’t heard from him since my birthday, and that was a month ago.”

Charlie nodded before turning his eyes back to the book in his lap. He was reading the dragon book Veronica had bought him for Christmas in fifth year for about the millionth time. He had read it so many times that the cover was now dull and peeling, but he loved it just as much as he did on day one. He had memorized every word, but he still enjoyed watching the dragons in the photos walking around and grazing. It made him feel like he was a real dragonologist, observing their patterns and behaviors up close and jotting down his notes in the columns. It gave him hope for a future where he would actually get to observe and work with dragons for real, but for now, he would settle for this.

Tearing her eyes away from him, Veronica chuckled as she made her way out of their compartment and into the corridor. She could hear muffled chatter coming from the other compartments in the car, and began to make her way up the train and through each car, briefly glancing into the tiny window of each compartment hoping to find him without imposing on other students’ privacy too much. She had only made it halfway through the train before running into Felix who seemed to be doing the same thing she was.

“Hey Veronica, you wouldn’t happen to have seen Art anywhere, would you?”

“What? He’s not with you?”

Felix shook his head but didn’t elaborate.

“Well, I haven’t seen him, but I’ve been looking for him too. Did you start at the front of the train? I started from the back and haven’t seen him anywhere.” Veronica scratched her head and furrowed her brows as she turned to look the way she had come. “Unless I just missed him?”

Felix shrugged in an attempt to be nonchalant, but there was something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place. “Maybe. I started from the front and haven’t seen him either, but I might have just missed him too.”

“Alright, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s here somewhere. Let’s look again together.” Despite trying to convince Felix, Veronica didn’t believe her own words. If Art was on this train, he would be looking for Felix too. But even with these thoughts in her mind, Veronica refused to scare the boy, so they began their search.

For a half hour, the two walked up and down the train a few times, but to no avail. As Veronica expected, Art was nowhere to be found. By the time they reached the front of the train for the 3rd time, Veronica could feel the worry radiating off Felix in waves. “Look, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine, and there’s probably a good explanation as to why he isn’t here. I’m sure he’ll tell us all about it when we see him at Hogwarts, and we’ll all have a good laugh about it.” Veronica hoped to brighten his spirits, but she could tell it wasn’t working. “Hey, do you want to come sit with me and Charlie in our compartment? We can keep you company until we get to Hogwarts, it shouldn’t be too long now.”

Felix just shook his head. “That’s alright, Veronica. I’ll see you in the Great Hall.” The look in his eyes was back, but Veronica still couldn’t figure it out for the life of her. She didn’t have time to ask him about it before he entered his compartment and shut the door. With that, she made her way back to Charlie. “So, what’d he say?”

“I couldn’t find him.”

“What?”

[gingernut1314]

how do you think sanji would react if reader (who likes him) asked if he has feelings for nami? thinking emoji

Through Shadow

Sanji x F!Reader

Summary: You've had feelings for Sanji ever since he was able to see you from your hiding spot in the shadows. Feelings you know the chef will never reciprocate, especially when he only has eyes for Nami. Nami who you couldn't help and hated to be jealous of. So when you find yourself spilling these jealous feelings to Sanji, you are terrified to hear what he might have to say.

Tags: angst and fluff

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: Y'all...he's too good. I love him and I had to write for him. First time doing it so I hope it's good but I had too much fun writing this. This is strictly angst and fluff because I lowkey (highkey) needed it. I hope you guys enjoy and thank you so much for the request!

↞ to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠ Part 2

You flipped a page in the book you were currently reading, finding it was one of the last few remaining. It was just a small book on some of the things to be seen on the next island your crew was going to stop at, but it was your job as informant, or as Luffy liked to call you, the “tour guide”, to know everything and anything there was to know about the places you were going to land.  

You enjoyed the job greatly, seeing as you had always loved to read and know things. Before you had joined Luffy’s crew, you were a spy of sorts for one of the local mobs on the tiny island you grew up on. It was your job to infiltrate other rival mobs and gather as much information as you could so your boss could use it to destroy them. 

You loved learning new information, so doing this job for Luffy was second nature--second nature that was also being used for good, rather than unrelenting bad. 

It hadn’t taken much for you to join him, having always wanted to leave your hometown and do something good with your life. 

Though, the true reason you had joined was because of the simple smile, kind words, and the best meal of your life the Straw Hats’ cook had given you. Sanji was his name and you orbited around him an embarrassing amount. 

You flipped another page in your book when the door to the kitchen opened, the voice of said cook floating in with it. A voice you instantly perked up to listen to, peering over the edge of the rafter you had all but claimed as your personal reading nook to find the face it belonged to. A face that had your cheeks heating even without its attention directed at you.

But your body froze when you saw another person follow after him. A person who was beautiful and fearless and who you had been jealous of ever since you laid eyes on her. 

You absolutely hated that you were jealous, especially of Nami because she was your friend--family...but Nami--Nami was everything you had ever wanted to be. 

And she had caught the lovely eye of the cook she followed in here.

You watched from the shadows as Sanji went about pulling everything he needed to start making breakfast for the rest of the slowly waking crew, Nami placing a book full of maps on the counter as she read it over. Sanji glanced her way here and there, that perfect smile on his lips anytime she pointed something out to him. 

That green emotion coiled in your chest like a snake as you watched it all happen. An emotion that grew every time you saw them together. Saw Sanji pull a smile from her, saw Sanji sweet talk and flirt with her. 

It was enough to get you to walk away from the situation every time it happened, but now you were stuck watching. Stuck in your stupid reading nook in the rafters of this stupid kitchen that was all too warm and cozy and smelled ever so wonderful--smelled not only of the delicious food being cooked up, but of him. Of his cologne and freshly showered scent.

You pulled yourself further into your nook, shoving your book back into your face to keep your mind distracted. To try not to think of the conversation that was happening below you. Of who was having it. 

“Here, try some. I’m trying something new.” You heard Sanji’s smoothly accented voice speak. A voice that unfortunately had you instantly looking back over the edge to find him extending a wooden spoon with whatever sauce he was cooking up on it out to Nami. She ate it without so much as a blink, Sanji watching her intently the whole time. 

“Good.” She said, before going back to her book full of maps. “I think the best place to get the supplies you need is here, in this market.” And on and on she went, Sanji nodding along and smiling away at her as he continued to cook. 

When they had both agreed on the best plan of action for this supply run, Nami closed up her book and began to leave. “Nami,” Sanji spoke, stopping Nami before she could fully leave. “Be sure to check with Y/N, ya? She’ll know the best places to go.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll talk to her at breakfast. Can’t find her anywhere but at mealtime.” It made you just a little proud you could hide from her, though you could hide from anyone. Blending into the shadows and going unnoticed had been your specialty way before gathering intel. It was more useful, in your opinion. Kept you safe and away from the prying eyes of those you wanted to avoid--which was everyone. 

You preferred to keep to yourself. To read your books and go utterly unnoticed…but going unnoticed had its downfalls. Downfalls such as having to watch the guy you liked, who was way out of your league and very much unattainable, flirt with the girl who was equally out of your league and unattainable.

“What are you reading up there, sweetheart?” Sanji asked, his voice startling you. You kept quiet, willing the shadows to cover you in their entirety as you watched Sanji continue to chop away at some fruit, but when those ocean-blue eyes snapped up on you, one covered by a lock of his blond hair, you knew you had been found out. Your face instantly flushed under his gaze. A gaze that had always made you feel so--seen. 

You remembered back to the first time that gaze had found you. It had been a relatively sunny day so the streets of your home town had been bustling with activity. You, unfortunately, had been sent by your boss to go spy on the straw hat-wearing man and his crew who had just landed on the island, so you couldn’t enjoy the day one bit.

It wasn’t hard to find the guy, seeing as he was bouncing around full of an energy you had never experienced before. It was--refreshing. No one on your island could ever dream of being that happy thanks to the mobs ruling over them. 

They were looking around the larger marketplace on the island, grabbing up different kinds of meats, fish, veggies, and all sorts of food you never could have afforded yourself. And as you watched the blond buying it all, your stomach quickly began to rumble to life with the hunger you had been fending off for days now. 

You may have been working for the mob, but they hardly took care of you. It was more indentured servitude than a true job. The most food you got was a scrap of bread and maybe, maybe if you were lucky, a piece of dried meat that would hold you over for a day or two before your stomach was roaring in hunger again.

You had hardly reached for the carrot sticking out of the basket he carried when those ocean-blue eyes, one covered by that lock of perfect blond hair of his, landed directly on you. Saw you. Saw you through shadow. Through shadow you had perfected the art of disappearing in. Had been practicing ever since you were a baby. 

And he--he was looking at you. Really seeing you. A gaze that had your body freezing up in its spot. You’d never had to deal with this before. Never had to deal with getting caught like this. 

The overly attractive blond had given you a charming smile, those eyes still refusing to leave you. 

“Hello there, sweetheart.” His accented voice had made your face flush as red as a beat then and there. The straw hat-wearing guy you had been sent to spy on came over then, oblivious to your location.

“Hey, Sanji, who are you--AHHH!! A GHOST!” The blond, Sanji, had hardly batted an eye at his captain's shenanigans, those same eyes still pinning you to your spot. 

“How about instead of eating this raw, I cook you something befitting a hauntingly beautiful woman such as yourself.” He had said, playing with the fact you had just been mistaken, rather loudly, as a specter. 

You had hardly even realized he had offered to feed you because all you could think about was the fact that he had seen you and was now calling you beautiful. Two things no one had ever done. 

When you finally came down from your shock and Luffy had come down from his scared, wildness, he had agreed to let you come aboard their ship--the Going Merry--and you had agreed to food. Any food would have done, truly, put Sanji--gods he had whipped up the most glorious meal you had ever tasted. A meal fit for a king. Something your taste buds definitely didn’t deserve. 

While you had eaten, you told Luffy and his crew about your life--about life on your island. Of the mob bosses running it ragged and driving many of its residents to an early grave. It had surprised you nearly as much as Sanji finding you through shadow when Luffy offered to help. When his whole crew offered. 

They had taken care of the mobs with little effort, you being a great help in their destruction. You knew where their holdouts were, where their money was kept, and who they loved the most in the world. You had been a double-edged sword ready to be drawn and used by just the right people.

Luffy had been awe-struck by your memory and ability to hide in plain sight, and after your island was saved, he offered you a place on his crew. A place you took gratefully, ready to serve this man who was the most generous man you had met--a man who would be King of the Pirates and rightfully so. 

It’d been a few years since then and still, Sanji was able to see you through the shadows you practically lived in. The others on the crew always tried, but never could quite find you until Sanji pointed you out, that is, if you wanted to be pointed out. He was always kind enough to gauge your mood--whether or not you wanted to be amongst the rest of the crew. You loved them, every last one of them, but they were all so--extroverted and you were content to watch from the shadows. 

“...A small history of the island we are heading for.” You spoke, flipping the cover to show him. He looked it over with a nod.

“Ah--and what have you learned?” You felt yourself grow excited at his interest and you pulled yourself just that much further from the shadows. 

“There’s this rabbit that can only be found on this specific island in the mountainous regions, called the Rina. Its fur is the color of a muted rainbow and its meat is said to be chewy and sweet and is best used in--”

“A stew?” You smiled.

“Yep! The locals will also glaze it in a honey sauce mixed with its blood and cook it on a stick.” You said, absent-mindedly flipping through the pages of the book until you came to the small section on the rabbit. You looked back up at Sanji who had taken a pause from chopping, turning the page to show him the illustration of the rabbit. “We’ll have to try some.” 

“Of course, sweetheart. And I’ll make a note to get some of its meat so we can cook up that stew.” You nodded happily, your mouth watering at the mere thought. You watched Sanji pick up where he had left off, throwing some of the fruit into a bowl. “What did you think of the market Nami pointed out?” That green emotion filled your chest once more and you pulled yourself right back into the shadow, flopping back onto the pillow you had pulled up here with you. 

“She’s right. It’s the best place to get supplies. It’ll have everything we need.” You said rather softly, reopening your book to where you had left off. Sanji was quiet for a short moment. 

“But is that where you think we should go?” You shrugged. 

“Yes. Do you think we’ll be staying there for the night?” You heard the slice of a sharp knife through meat. 

“I believe so.” 

“Then we should dock on the western side of the island. It’s a little more secluded than the eastern docks. There are more markets there as well, but it is full of people known for their anonymity and hostility. We will find everything there as well.” You heard Sanji drop slices of meat onto a pan, it sizzling under the heat. 

“Sound perfect for a crew of outlaws.” He said in a joking tone despite it being completely true. “And you will want to tell Nami this when she comes to breakfast? So she can get us there.” Again, green spiked through your heart. 

“Sure. I can do that.” Silence filled the air once more as you tried to finish the last page of the book, but you couldn’t shake that snake-like emotion. “...there’s this small mountain range near the village we would stay at…a lot of the locals call it Sweethearts Ledge. There’s this tragic story behind it but the local teens just go up there to--you know.” You said, scratching at the hardcover of the book, not wanting to outright say it was a hook-up spot.

“But regardless of that it’s a local favorite to watch the sunset--see the entirety of the western side of the island. Said to be a breathtaking view.” Your nail dug so deep you nearly tore the thin fabric covering the book. “You should take Nami up there.” 

All that filled the air was quiet except for the sizzle of meat. So quiet you thought Sanji had left until the pan was moved from the heat and the sizzle slowly died out. 

“And why would I take Nami up there?” He said, amusement coating his voice. It had your embarrassment flooding your chest in seconds. 

Stupid, stupid! 

This is why you stayed in the shadows, why you didn’t speak to many people. Because you always had a tendency to embarrass and make a fool of yourself. 

“Uh--because it’s…you know. Beautiful up there. Could have a picnic.” You rambled out, trying to save yourself, yet only managing to dig yourself a rather massive hole. “You know…” 

Sanji let out a charming little chuckle that made you want to curl in on yourself. Oh gods…he was laughing at you. 

“Come try this.” He said, moving on from your embarrassing train of conversation drastically. It took all your willpower to peek around the corner and look down at Sanji, who had put a little bit of meat on a small plate, the sauce he had finished on top of it. It looked delicious. So delicious it made your stomach grumble. 

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled, pulling yourself right back into the shadows. A lie. A complete lie that your stomach was hating you for. Sanji gave a little huff of air and you thought that was the end of it until you heard the screech of a chair being dragged across the floor. 

Peeking over the edge again you found him doing just that, dragging a chair over to your hiding spot, small plate in hand, and a determined look on his face. You watched in shock as he climbed up onto the chair and came face to face with you, flashing that charming smile of his your way. 

“Sweetheart,” He said, making your face burn like lava had been poured on it. “We both know that’s a lie. I need your opinion.” He said, placing the plate on the large rafter you sat on. You watched the plate like it was the most interesting thing in the world, not able to meet his gaze--look at his too-handsome face. 

“You already had Nami try it.” You mumbled, looking back to your book as you tried to re-read the same sentence you had been trying to re-read for a minute now. 

“Yes, but she doesn’t understand the dish’s complexities like you.” You’re eyes snapped onto his face, that grin never once leaving his handsome face. His eyes were watching you just as you had been watching that plate. 

And your face was going to melt off it was so hot. 

“Uh…but--” Sanji chuckled again, picking up the bit of meat and extending it to you. Extended it into your shadowy heaven. 

“Please, sweetheart. Just one bite?” You’re mouth ran dry. He had to stop calling you that. Had to stop seeing through your shadows. It was going to destroy you. 

Unable to find the words, you merely nodded, allowing Sanji to feed you his hard work. You ate it all, chewing it slowly. You took note of every bit of seasoning and spice and texture you could. And Sanji watched you the whole time, his eyes moving from your lips to your eyes and then back to your lips again. 

“I wouldn’t want to take Nami up to Sweethearts Ledge. I would want to take my sweetheart, sweetheart.” You nearly choked on the bit of food in your mouth, coughing to keep from doing so. You sat up so fast, you hit your head on the ceiling, causing yet another coughing fit to spill from your lips. “Oh--Y/N do you need water?” You shook your head, feeling utterly mortified. 

“No--no…” When you finally calmed your cough, you shyly looked back to Sanji, finding him watching your every move. His face was set in a near-serious tone. Near--near nervous? Was Sanji nervous? There was no way. Not Sanji, the man whose second language was flirting and hitting on women. “You’re teasing me.” 

“Teasing you?” He asked, looking a bit shocked you were even suggesting it.

“Yes. You’re teasing me because I’m--” You glued your teeth shut before you could say something that would further embarrass yourself--humiliate yourself. “It’s not nice, Sanji.” You said, you’re tone turning harsh. But you couldn’t take it--getting teased in such a way. Your heart couldn’t take it.

“Sweetheart--”

“Stop calling me that.” Something like hurt flashed in his eyes. A hurt you hated to see. But you had to protect yourself because you couldn’t handle getting yourself hurt. You were too--fragile. 

“Did I do something? If I did I am truly sorry.” You shook your head, a slight frustrated huff spilling from your lips. 

“No, you--” Another little huff. Sanji’s ocean eyes never once left you--kept piercing through the shadows. “You like Nami.” You said, your voice all but defeated. Sanji’s eyebrows fell the slightest bit, eyes softening. You hated it--hated his pity. 

“I’ll never be like her, that’s why you're teasing me. Everyone teases me because--because…I’m not like her. Because she’s--she’s perfect. She’s strong and confident and beautiful--” 

Sanji reached into your shadows once more and covered your mouth with his hand. A hand that was strong and sported small scars he had gained from his culinary journey. A hand your skin always zapped to life under whenever he touched you in the most simple ways. 

You stared at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch on like an eternity. Just watching the other. Sanji’s eyes held such--shock in them. Almost…hurt? 

“Don’t…” He was upset. You upset him. You’re heart felt heavy and hard and like it would snap in two at any moment. You hadn’t wanted to upset him. “Don’t say such things about yourself.” 

He was upset…upset for you? 

“Y/N…sweetheart, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. You are smart and sneaky and kind-hearted…” He gave an airy chuckle, “and you know the difference between ragù and ragoût.” You felt your eyes begin to prick as you shakily pulled Sanji’s hand from your mouth, keeping hold of it.

“Ragù is a sauce…Ragoût’s stew.” You said, your voice just as shaky as your hand. Sanji’s smile pulled up onto his lips as he nodded, another little airy chuckle leaving his lips. 

“You are my sous-chef, my friend, my sweetheart.” Tears did well in your eyes then. Tears you tried to hide from the man saying such sweet, sweet things to you, but he took hold of your chin in a gentle manner, keeping your eyes on him. “Y/N, you’re beautiful--hauntingly beautiful and I couldn’t image anyone else I would rather take up to that mountain and serenade with a delicious meal than you.” 

Your tears did fall then. Hot, burning tears you had been holding back ever since childhood. Tears you felt tear through your very soul. 

You wanted to believe he was lying. That he was being cruel, but his eyes--those ocean-blue eyes told you everything you needed to know. Told you Sanji believed every word he was saying. His thumb wiped away your tears, that smile of his never once leaving his face. 

“You’re beautiful--even when you cry. Even shroud in shadow.” A little, pathetic sob escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around Sanji’s neck, nearly sending the chef falling off the chair he stood on. He stood strong, wrapping his own arms around you the best he could at this angle. As tight as he could. “I’m not teasing.” He whispered in your ear, as if to confirm it. 

“I-I know.” Another little sob you tried to hold back fluttered from your lips. “I-I’m sorry…no--no one has ever said that before--b-been so nice to me.” You felt Sanji shake his head against your cheek. 

“Well, they’re utter fools for not searching hard enough for such a gem.” You pulled away the slightest bit so you could look into his face. Hesitatingly, you went to brush away the bit of hair blocking his left eye, but you paused. 

Sanji noticed this and leaned into your touch, silently telling you it was okay to do so--to touch him. You did, brushing away that hair so you could look deeply into both his ocean-blue eyes.

“How--how did you see me? That first time, back on my home island? How did you see through the shadows?” Sanji’s thumb rubbed little circles on your back, sending your skin burning. 

“Because it was hard to not see you--because I’m no fool.” A smile pulled onto our own lips. A smile that pulled a small laugh from your rusty throat. A smile that Sanji copied in an instant. “Gods, you’re stunning.” You shook your head slightly, his words still too kind. 

Sanji brought his hand to take hold of your chin again, his thumb brushing over the curve of your bottom lip. “So, so pretty. So, so divine. So, so lovely. So, so beautiful.” 

You gave a little shaky huff of air, trying to hold back yet another sob that threatened to pull itself from your chest before you pressed your lips to Sanji’s. Lips that were so soft and plush and tasted vaguely like the sauce he had no doubt tried before coming over here. 

You hardly had much experience kissing anyone--only ever having kissed one other man before the chef and that had been a drunken, sloppy thing. So this--this was new. This was exciting. And gods if you weren’t nervous, but Sanji kissed you gently, slowly. Kissed you in a guiding manner that allowed you not to think too much about the action and let you just enjoy it. Really, really enjoy it.

When you two pulled away for air, you couldn’t help the giggle that spilled from your lips. A giggle you tried to muffle but placing a hand over your mouth. 

“Why are you trying to hide, huh?” Sanji said in an equally as jovial tone. “You know you can’t hide from me.” A laugh of his own pulled from his throat as he took your hand away from your lips and kissed you again. A quick thing. A kiss he did again and again until your ribs were aching from all the happy giggling you were doing. “Such an exquisite sound.” You rolled your eyes, though your smile stayed plastered on your face. 

“You can stop that now.”

“Oh no. Never. Darling, I will shower you with praise in my every waking moments. I’ll do it in my sleep, just you watch.” You ran your fingers over his grinning cheek, taking in as much of his features as you could possibly take in at once. 

You had just kissed that. Kissed this handsome, handsome man who you would have never dreamed of actually kissing in your wildest dreams. 

“...fine. I guess I can endure.” Sanji gave another little laugh before kissing your lips once more. A kiss you gave right back in seconds. 

“Now, how about you come down here and tell me how breakfast tasted?”

Next

[knchins]

Shy!fem reader riding her husband satoru? Maybe she hides her face in her hands and begs Satoru to take control, but he refuses as looks at her with a smile, his strong arms behind his head and tells her if she wants to feel good, then she should move. Just good husband Satoru helping his wife overcome shyness :')

Hi Hi Anon! This request made me melt (in a good way) and I just a;ldkfjla;kdjf had so much fun writing it, thank you so much!

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

TW: Shy reader, vaginal sex, unsafe sex, praise, overstimulation, this is pretty soft <3

Reader Type: AFAB- Female

Word Count: ~560 words

You placed both hands over your face, skin hot with embarrassment as your pretty husband laid out beneath you with his cock buried into your soaked pussy. With his fingers laced behind his head, Satoru looked up at you with a teasing grin. He laid perfectly still, ignoring the tiny whines that were coming from your mouth. 

He knew how much you wanted him, he could tell even without feeling the way you were clamped down around his rock-hard dick. The way your thighs trembled with the intense desire for him to fuck you senseless like he usually did. The need for release from all the tension that had been stored up in your body throughout the day. You needed him and only him. 

“Please, ‘Toru, I can’t do it.” You mumbled to him.

Your husband chuckled, not moving even a millimeter out of place. “If you want to feel good, princess, then you should move.” He cooed playfully, noticing how you tensed up even more, the tightening of your walls around him nearly made him groan. 

You peaked at him through your fingers and he could see the embarrassed look on your face. His smile grew, “Hey pretty girl, I’m not going to move so you better get to work if you want to cum.” 

You tentatively moved your hips, trying to find an angle and rhythm that felt best. It was a slow and almost agonizing process for Satoru as he had to use every drop of willpower not to buck his hips up into yours. You finally took your hands from your face, a determined look replacing the shy one as you placed your hands on his bare chest. 

You rocked your hips again, feeling a zing of pleasure as his tip rubbed against the spot inside of you that was extra sensitive. You moved to hit it again, your eyes nearly rolling back with the wave of pleasure that came with it. “That’s it, baby, get off of my cock. You can do it.”

A slight nod from his encouragement had you moving faster, bouncing on top of him as you used your thighs to help you move at a quicker pace. He was in so deep, throbbing so intensely as he bit the inside of his cheek to keep his composure as every drop of self-doubt seemed to leave you.  

What a beautiful sight, Satoru thought as your nails dug into his pecs. He could tell you were getting close and the thought that his sweet innocent wife was using him as a glorified sex toy had him even more turned on than usual. But still, he waited patiently for your moans to climb higher in decimal, for his name to tumble off your lips. The sweet undulation of your walls around him as you came, a gush of fluid soaking his genitals and the small crop of pubic hair that adorned them. 

You remained on top of him, breathing heavily as you slowly regained your senses. Satoru was smirking now, hands moving up your thighs and grabbing onto your hips. He anchored you in place when you tried to get off. “Nah uh, we’re not finished yet.” He teased before finally jerking his hips and pushing his head all the way to your cervix. Your eyes rolled back as he quickly sent you into overstimulation. “We’re just getting started, love.” 

Request Rules

[uncouth-the-fifth]

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona��s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

_

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

_

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

_

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.