#the damned old manager is gonna catch these hands

[ducktheverb]

When I find That wretched old saboteur it’s so over…

.

Ver. sans filters + Backgrounds

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ HE LIKES IT WET 'N' MESSY ❞

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...synopsis : the more you think about it, the more you realize you love how messy atsumu is…

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...cw : m. atsumu x fem!reader, wet and messy, ovėrstimulation, dirty talk, marathon sėx, desperation, playful banter, unprotected sēx, excessive cūm (?), atsumu's undiscovered breēding kınk, begging, messy kissing, atsumu miya can't shut the fuck up

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...lunar's note : another revamping of an old work of mine where i just. make this even more debauched and filthier than it was before !!

if there’s one word to describe atsumu miya, it’s messy.

sometimes, he leaves his clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, waiting until you playfully kick him in the butt to pick up his things and put them in the laundry.

he's also so messy when it comes to eating, always having food on his face, causing you to tease him as he tries to wipe it off, completely missing.

it doesn't bother you that much, having already grown used to his messy nature.

it does bother you, however, when he makes a big mess of the sheets. he's always ignoring your whines for him to get a towel to put down or else you'd make him do laundry for the rest of the week.

atsumu always gives the same damn response, a long whine of your name, telling you he’ll clean it up after.

after all, atsumu doesn't think he can bring himself to pull out of your slick heat, not when you feel this fucking good. he can't remember the last time he got to fuck you like this, messy and desperate without worrying about needing to get up early the next day to catch a bus or plane for a game.

he swears he almost forgot how warm you were, how sweet your voice sounds when you were this close to him, how pretty your face looks even when you were looking at him rather annoyed despite being fucked.

“’t-'tsumie, the towel—!”

“baby, nooooo, don’ make me pull out, don' it feel good? d'ya really want me to stop?”

fuck, you can't lie, it feels good, it feels so fucking good, the way he slows his hips to torture you with the slow drag of his cock, making you feel every inch pull out...and then slowly slide back in, a wet squelch signally his hips pressing fully against you.

but that doesn't stop you from being annoyed, knowing your fresh sheets were already a mess.

“d'awww, don’ look at me like that, sweetcheeks. tsumtsum's gonna make ya feel reaaal good if y'forget about the damn sheets,” atsumu huffs, his sweaty hands grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing them closer to your upper body.

its sinful the way he manages to slip in even deep into you, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to prevent the pitiful little whimper from leaving him.

“l-lemme make a mess, baby girl, please?”

you want to roll your eyes at his request, because it's a little too late for him to ask you that. his cum from the first round is already dripping out your stuffed cunt, leaking onto the freshly washed bed sheets under you.

it doesn't matter that his sticky cock head is messing up your insides by pressing against all the spots that have you gushing. you just put these sheets on the bed!

giving him the best pout you can manage, you huff, "f-fine—o-oh!"

that pretty little moan shouldn't cause him to react so excitedly, but he can't help it. hearing your approval has him giggling, he knew you'd give in eventually, and he's going to make sure you don't regret it.

besides, hearing you, his sweet lil' princess, try to sound all tough and serious with his cock deep inside your hot gummy walls that were sucking him in with each thrust is making him so dizzy.

you are too damn cute for your own good.

he can't hold back anymore, not when you're so cute. his hands squeeze your thighs before he starts to pound into you, savoring the way you keen for him, mouth open as you chant his name so needily.

you aren't the only one being loud, poor atsumu giving up on holding back all those pretty noises of his, the way your tight walls squeeze and massage his throbbing dick so sweetly making it literally impossible to stay quiet.

“f-fuck, 'tsumu, ‘s too deep, ’s coming out more,” you whimper, trying to lift your hips to stop his cum from leaking out of you.

the wetness of your overstimulated cunted paired with his leaking cum causes the room to be filled with loud, wet, squelching, causing you to look down.

you suck in a breath, a hot pang of pleasure shooting up your spine at the sight between your legs. atsumu’s stupidly big dick is an absolute creamy mess that only seems to get messier the more he moves, pulling and pushing the sticky mixture of your cum in and out.

“listen to that, dolly, s' fuckin’ dirty. mmnh, tight l-lil' cunt can’t hold all my cum?”

god, atsumu doesn't ever shut up, he's always such a talker, knowing how embarrassed it makes you.

“c’mon, say it, angel, say it f' me, pretty please?”

“a…atsumu, i can’t hold all of your cum…’s comin’ out, ‘tsumu, you're making me messy.”

he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it, god, he really wasn't, but you did and now his eyes are fluttering as they roll back into his skull.

don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, he chants to himself, feeling himself nearly lose it just from your words.

a choked groan forces its way out of his mouth, you're just too fucking hot for him. he can't think of anything but you, your pretty face, your soft body, and your insanely wet cunt.

“s’okay, s’okay, fuck, i’ll-i'll fuck ya, pumpkin, 't-'tsumi's gonna fuck ‘n’ fill ya up over ‘n’ over again, 'til y'can't keep it all inside, gotta stuff you with my cum, make you cream around my cock, need it, need it.”

atsumu is absolutely gone, now fully pressing into you as he fucks you into the mattress. each thrust makes you cry his name, fingers digging into his back as he puts you into a mating press, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, so ready to pump another hot load into you.

it's too much, the drag of his cock and the way it was so deep inside you. tears prick the corners of your eyes, each thrust making your brain slowly turn into nothing but mush. you hate the mess, you really do, but hearing atsumu so desperate does something for you.

you...you want it, you want him to mess you up.

your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you moan and pant against his ear.

“a-atsumu, honey,” you coo to him, savoring the stuttering of his hips and the quiet hiss of ‘fuck’ you get out of him from the sound of your voice. “please, please fuck me more, fuck me, fill me up, stuff my pussy with your cum, h-honey, mark me nice a-an' deep, okay?”

everyone in the world knows that atsumu miya would give you the world if you asked. so you want to be filled up nice and full? then, he'll give you what you want, take such good care of you and make sure you feel him dripping out of you for days.

“yeah, yeah, fuck, good girl. take this cock, take it like a good girl, so good, my pretty girl, fuck! s-she takes this cock so well, wish you could see how good ya look stretched 'round me like this, baby, ohmyfuckin'goddd.”

you can't stop yourself, pulling him into a sloppy, desperate, the need to taste him overwhelming as your hands get tangled in his hair. he pulls away, panting into your mouth as his thrusts get harder and sloppier.

it's just a fucking mess now, your slick and cream and his cum are coating his abdomen and thighs, dripping everywhere. each thrust has you splashing on him from how fucking wet you are, and atsumu feels like he's gonna fucking faint if he tries to hold off his orgasm for much longer.

“'tsumu, 't-tsumu, 'tsumu—!"

“t-tell me ya want it, baby girl, p-please? c-c'mon, tell me y'want my fuckin' cum inside ya, n-need ta hear it,” he begs against your mouth, eyes watery as desperate tears threaten to spill.

you can't think, can't give a coherent response as you babble, the word ‘please’ falling from your lips over and over again. you just want him to stop talking and kiss you again as he pumps your needy hole full of his seed, until you can't take anymore, until it spurts out from around his cock.

but then, he stops.

a strangled sob leaves you the second his hips stop moving. it's borderline painful, you're so fucking close. just a few more thrusts and you'd be creaming all over his thick cock, tugging and pulling on his hair as your slick squirts all over him.

but no, atsumu fucking stopped.

you look at him with teary eyes, silently begging him to explain. this is just unfair to both of you! but atsumu only gives you a cocky grin, and you have to stop yourself from flicking his nose.

he grants you some relief, rolling his hips gently as his hand slides up to cup the back of your head as he pepper your sweaty cheek in open mouthed kisses. he's so annoying, you love him so bad.

“dunno, pumpkin, don' think ya begged enough f'me. hmm...i’ll give ya one more shot, baby…tell me how fucking much ya want my fuckin’ cum in yer pretty cunt and make ya a creamy lil' mess."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[k9wa]

⟁ A BULLET A DAY, ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — where teasing, annoying, poking and prodding all fall under the same category; flirting.

⚠︎︎ more mechanic! reader, gn, boothill being an idiot, flirting, suggestive, he has fake teeth to me, something about tension + leaving him high and dry is soooo ….

from this request !

it’s a miracle, truly, how boothill manages to be so tempting and endearing yet so utterly irritating and infuriating at the same time. 

and it’s hot, sure, but that just makes it all the more annoying, leaves you frustrated and with an odd pool in your stomach.  

boothill managed his way into your supply of bullets, happily tossing back the brass casings like a simple snack. it was a genius idea at the time, really, giving him a stomach that can store ammunition. though had you expected him to chew on the damn things instead of swallowing them— you know, like he was intended to— you would’ve just given him a little side bag to save yourself the work.

you half hoped the lead stuffing the things would seep into his still intact brain, but chastised yourself for the thought soon after having it. you don’t hate him that much. your brain should check back and try the thought again in twenty minutes. 

“y’know what’d be real neat, buttercup?” boothill’s legs were kicked up lazily on your workbench as he sat next to you, waiting for you to finish a small modification on his revolver. “spikes in my boots.” he lifted a foot up, rolling his ankle a bit. “you know, them retractable ones. be able t’a have some real fun with those things.”

you snorted, his efforts to dodge his synesthesia beacon as entertaining as always.

“since when do i take requests?” you asked, eyes focused down on your work— far too used to his antics to lift your head anymore.

“since when d’you deny gettin’ to tinker with me?”

he brought his feet down to the floor and leaned forward on his thighs, the denim of his pants tightening around them. “what, gonna make me say please and thank ya now?” 

you truly wanted to reply, say it wasn’t a half bad idea and that you’d look into the upgrade. until he started shaking a few bullets around in his palm like they were fucking almonds.

now boothill noticed the clench of your jaw, and oh how he revelled in it. he’s fully aware how the crunching of brass and lead peeves you, ie. you telling him to knock it off an hour ago— (“it ain’t hurtin’ nobody, is it now?”—) but you’re just so darn cute when you’re ticked off. he’s gotta push your buttons just a lil bit. 

“somethin’ the matter?” the way his sharp teeth gleamed through that damn grin weren’t doing anything to help. 

he took a bullet between his thumb and forefinger, the shiny gunmetal digits pinching the ammunition as he held it up next to you. “d’ya care for one, sugar plum?”

fine, you thought. two can play that game.

you tore your attention away from the old steel revolver, finally turning to look at him. boothill prepared for an insult, one he’d tell you was ‘flatterin’ and all,’ but it didn’t come.

you leaned towards his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his that glowed a familiar and faint red. 

then you took the bullet between your tongue and top front teeth, gently pulling it out of his hands with your mouth.

his smirk actually dropped— you’d think someone stuck an infected usb into his ear with all the ideas that flooded the forefront of his brain, making his circuits just tingle with excitement. something about the hot single mechanic in his area.

you turned back to your desk, removing the bullet from your teeth and twirling it between your fingers idly as you gave a once over to his revolver, as if nothing had happened.

boothill blinked, chuckling gruffly with a shake of his head as he slumped back in his chair, flicking another bullet into the air with his thumb and catching it in his palm with a gentle clink! the cyborg gave a low whistle as he kicked his feet back up.

“ain’t you somethin’,” he drawled, earning a chuckle from you. “y’sure know how t’keep a man on his toes, don’t ya buttercup?” 

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.” you only offered a hum, willfully ignorant to boothill’s colourful imagination.

“oh i’m real sure y’don’t.” he shook his head, another chuckle rumbling his chest and sending a shiver down your neck.

“say,” he leaned towards you, his shoulder to yours, feeling a little lucky and dropping his voice to a knee-weakening purr, “if that pretty mouth a’yers likes metal, i’m more’en happy t’a—” 

“all done.”

all bets go down the drain. boothill deadpanned as you clicked the barrel of his gun into place and handed it back to him, standing up to stretch your arms.

“shops closed for today,” you fold them, leaning back against your bench. “you better get a move on before i have to kick you out.”

boothill’s eyes trailed up your figure, taking his sweet time finding your face. the cowboy raised an eyebrow into a cocky arch despite him swearing his body was on the verge of its cooling protocol. 

“you keep woundin’ me, sugar.” 

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.”

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[littlemiss-yeehaw]

You're Gonna Be Quiet

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: It's just an undercover mission, anyone could be married for one night - even you two.

Warnings: profanity, flirting, yucky old men, suggestive content (?), possessive Bucky <3

MINORS PLS DNI

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: y'all.... im not an author. im an artist, not an author, so PLS go into this with that knowledge. but I have been convinced, no, coerced into posting this little funsy by @ellemj

she threatened to withhold vacation pictures from me as if I didn't draw her bucky barnes dick earlier today and I'll be damned

anyways,, please enjoy and manage your expectations :,)

“Okay, rumor has it the target, Mr. Beaumont, has a thing for married women,” Sam says casually as he holds a ring between his thumb and forefinger, “so for this mission, you get to be Mrs. Barnes.”

He tosses the ring in your direction and you catch it with a sour expression. You slip the rock on your finger and admire it, your scowl slipping just a moment as you watch how it catches the sun. That is until you see Bucky with an equally foul look on his face. Suddenly, your frown reappears.

“Sam, I feel like there is certainly someone better suited for this than me,” you grumble as you put your hand down and look back up at him, “I mean, aren’t these undercover missions more of a Natasha thing?”

Sam rolls his eyes before turning to face you, a hand on his hip. You were in for a scolding. “Natasha has her own mission. So today, you get to be Mrs. Hart. And you,” he turns to Bucky with a smug expression, “will be Mr. Hart. Any questions? No? Good, you two lovebirds go get your outfits on.”

You turn quickly, but not quick enough to miss the death stare Bucky shoots Sam. This one seems even more lethal than his typical one.

~~~

The ride to the gala is silent. Bucky is always silent, but this silence seems more… suffocating. You fiddle with the ring on your finger before glancing over at him. “Are you planning to even look at me before we get there? I mean, we’re supposed to be a marri-”

“You’re supposed to be a woman in an unhappy marriage who's looking to fuck a billionaire,” he says bluntly, not even turning towards you, “I’m just making sure that you look plenty unhappy.”

He would never admit out loud that the real reason he won’t spare you a second glance is because the first glimpse of you dolled up sent almost all the blood in his rational mind straight to his cock. He needs to preserve what little sense he has left.

~~~

You get out of the car with a huff. Just as Bucky intended, you look unhappy and thoroughly irritated. You pull the hem of your little black dress down in an attempt to recover some of your dignity, but all Bucky notices is how the little tug causes your breasts to be even more apparent. Yep, there went the rest of the blood.  

He sighs and grabs your hand before plastering a fake smile onto his lips. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

You sigh and forget anymore yanking on your dress, looking up at him with a grim expression. “Let's,” you mutter under your breath before letting him lead you into the gala. 

As expected, the event is extravagant and no doubt costly. You feel out of place, and you can’t help the way you move a little further into your ‘husband’s side. You let a breath of air past your lips as you look around the room for your target. Nowhere to be seen, you nearly move further into the room before Bucky squeezes your hand gently and nods to his left. You’re quick to ignore the flutter of butterflies that his touch sends shooting through you and casually look where he’s pointed. Surely enough, at the bar, sits a piggish man nursing a flute of champagne. Your eyes find Buckys and you shoot him a look before you drop his hand and make your way over.

You take a seat a few bar stools down from the man, making sure to fail at getting the bartender's attention. “Sir? Sir, could I-” You drop your hand with a sigh, feigning a disheartened expression.

“Sir, this lady would like a drink,” like a mouse in a trap, Mr. Beaumont waves him down for you and orders you a drink, “you look like you’d drink something fruity, a little thing like you. Maybe a sex on the beach?”

You wish you’d missed the way his lips pulled up in a foul grin and the way his eyebrow raised ever so slightly, and you really wish you hadn’t seen his greedy eyes rake over your body. Nonetheless, a soft laugh and a bat of your lashes grace him instead of the scowl that wants to pull at your lips.

“I’ve never had one before,” you say with a saccharine smile, “maybe we could share.”

You notice how his eyes nearly bug out of his head and then slowly trail to your hand. He slides his fingers, not dissimilar to link sausages, down to your left hand where he trails a thumb over your ring. “Are you sure your husband wouldn’t mind,” he asks with that same vile grin, moving his hand to rest on your knee.

“Not particularly, but I’m sure I don’t care,” you whisper teasingly, leaning forward and showing off your tits that practically beg to fall from your dress. ‘Hook, line, and sinker’ you think as the man runs a heavy hand up the side of your leg and his eyes trail down your neck to your cleavage.

Trembling anger washes over Bucky as he watches the man practically feel you up in the middle of the bar. The beads of perspiration running down the target's neck and the way he keeps nervously licking his lips give Bucky all the indication he needs to know this man thinks you’re his. Then Bucky turns to look at you. You. You’re just letting the man have his way, no, you’re encouraging it. Yes, it’s the mission. And, no, Bucky has no reason to feel such vile hatred for the target in any sense other than the professional one. But for some reason, he finds himself wanting to dismember any part of the man that graces your body where he hasn’t yet.

Yet?

Yet.

~~~

“Who’s this, darling?”

You bristle as you feel a breath of air pass your ear before the deep timbre of Bucky's voice even registers in your mind. You whip around to look at him, an expression of anger and bewilderment replacing the flirtatious grin you were just donning. You look back to the target, trying to mask your surprise.

“Honey,” you manage to say through gritted teeth, “I didn’t even see you come over.”

You pull your hands from the target's grasp, nearly cringing at the moist feeling left behind on your skin. You feel Bucky’s firm hold replace Mr. Beaumont’s slimy touch, and your body reacts all too positively. You lean back hardly at all, but it’s enough to feel his chest rigid against you. Was he standing too close or were you too eager? There was no way to be sure, but one thing you could be sure of was the fact that neither of you shied from the contact.

“Hmm,” he hummed lowly, a disapproving air oozing from the short sound, “when you never brought our drinks over, I got curious as to where you’d disappeared to.”

His eyes shift from the side of your face to the man across from you, who grows increasingly uneasy at the sight of your tall and broad ‘husband’. Bucky leans down close, so close that his lips brush against the curve of your ear and you hope he can’t hear your blood rushing in your head.

“I’ll ask again, who is this?”

You’re not sure if it's what he says, or the way he says it, but his words send a wave of arousal through your body. Suddenly, the too-tiny dress feels too hot and you’ve nearly forgotten his question. That is until he quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head expectantly. You clear your throat and look back to a flustered target, presumably intimidated by your colleague.

“This,” you reply before turning back to the sweaty man, “is Mr. Beaumont. He owns a software company and..”

You turn to the target, a ditsy smile on your lips as you try to recover your role, “what else did you do? I forget.”

He laughs nervously, shifting on his bar stool to make himself appear taller. Still pitiful in comparison to the man currently staring daggers at him over your shoulder. “I develop software and coding for various companies and organizations to use where they deem fit.”

Another low hum sounds from Bucky’s throat as he lifts his head from your ear, he meets Mr. Beaumont's eyes and sighs.

“Very impressive, Mr. B,” he says condescendingly. You frown, peeking over at him. What is he doing? This was not a part of the plan, “so you must be a smart man?”

The man in question smiles smugly and nods. “I’d think so, yes.”

“Well then, pray tell, why have you been feeling up my wife,” he asks coolly, Bucky’s turn to look smug. You, on the other hand, whip around to stare at him with an irate expression. He looks down at you with a matching frown, hardly able to mask his irritation, “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll handle you later.”

You’d like to think you were subtle in your shock, in the way his words leave you flustered. You had no idea Bucky could smell the wave of arousal that flooded your panties, or that he could hear the beat of your heart like a snare drum. Neither of you even noticed the target’s pitiful stuttering, too caught up in the most sexually charged staring contest ever.

~~~

“What the fuck, Barnes,” you hiss quietly, walking ahead of him to the car with steam practically flooding out of your ears, “I mean, what the actual fuck!”

You don’t wait for him to catch up before you get into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind you. You didn’t care for appearances, your mission having been sabotaged by your own partner. What appearances did you have left to keep up?

He gets into the driver's seat a few moments later, pulling his gloves off with a sigh before running his flesh hand over his face.

“Are you done?”

“No,” you snap, turning to face him, “I’m not. You have the audacity to call me reckless, but you go and pull a stunt like that? I had it under control.” Your cheeks are red with irritation and your hair is a mess from you running your fingers through it, but he’s too caught up with thinking what else would have you looking so flushed.

“If you’d just shut up and listen-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I was getting the intel,” you’re practically ranting now, “and you just had to swoop in. And for what? To be all macho? To fluster me?”

The scowl on his lips that once matched yours turns into a scoff, and you narrow your eyes at him. Why are you looking at his lips? And why can’t you pull your gaze away from them? “What? What now,” you ask with a huff.

“You really need to learn when to stop talking,” he mutters, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he tries to wipe the smug smile from his face, “y’know that?”

You’re startled by his words, the flush on your cheeks no longer caused by his irritating actions but by his shocking words. Your eyes travel over him shamelessly, ready to jeopardize everything just to get rid of the tension that has lingered and grown exponentially over the course of the evening.

“Then why don’t you shut me up,” you ask softly, your tone opposite to the defiant one you’d held only moments ago. Judging by the minuscule way his eyes widen and the way his lips part around a sharp inhale, you’d be safe to guess he’d beat you to the idea.

You aren’t sure who moved forward first, or even if you’d moved at all. All you can be sure of is the feeling of Bucky Barnes kissing you like he’d never have the privilege again. 

Your lips move feverishly against his own, the car filled with quiet pants and sloppy smacking. His hands tangle in your hair and he tugs you away from him, his expression turning stern when you whine petulantly. “Did you know you were a fucking brat tonight,” he asks lowly, his stare hard. You swallow thickly, pressing your thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

“I was not,” you rebut, your brows furrowing and your lips turning down in a pout. He didn’t like that.

“You were,” he chides coolly, releasing his grip on your hair and sighing, “especially after we walked back to the car. You never even let me explain why I stopped you.”

You would like to focus on his words, but you’re too worried about the way his metal fingers nimbly undo the buckle of his belt. Silence sweeps over the car, the only sound being your shaky breath and the clank of metal on metal.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” he continues, “I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna listen. Quietly.” You’re salivating as he tugs the zipper of his dress pants down, allowing the tent in his boxers some much-needed reprieve. “You know why you’re gonna be quiet?”

“Why,” you ask in a breathless whisper, only just now meeting his eyes again. 

“Because your mouth is gonna be full."

[optimist-pine]

Bodyguard

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: people are naked, but it's barely even borderline suggestive

Summary: You need a bath, but there's no way you're going alone

Era: Season 1, the Quarry

Your skin practically crawls from the buildup of dirt, sweat, and who knows what else that's managed to accumulate over the past three days. You still haven't quite adjusted to the reality of not having on-demand access to a hot shower and your scalp is all oily, and itchy, and eugh - gross. A little shiver runs down your spine at the thought - well, maybe that's just more sweat...

The bold shades of the sunset are beginning to fade as you make your way to the Dixon brothers' camp. Currently they're the closest thing you have to neighbors, your tent being between theirs and the rest of the group. You're dying for a quick dip and rinse in the pond, but you don't actually want to die for a bath, and you know it's a dumb idea to go alone. Everyone else seems busy though and you've come to the conclusion that Daryl seems to be your only option.

Most of the others actively avoid the brothers, and you can't say you blame them. Merle's constantly stirring up trouble and being a general annoyance, and Daryl's quick to jump to his defense. But, on the rare occasion when Daryl isn't being held under Merle's thumb, you catch glimpses of a very different person than what he usually puts out.

He's sitting in an old lawn chair by the side of a fire when you approach, poking a stick around in the coals. Little sparks shoot off where the fresh evening air hits them, and the smell of woodsmoke fills your lungs.

"Hey." You greet. A spot of doubt begins to arise within you, but you quickly stamp it out. With recent events you were beginning to discover that there wasn't much room left for second guessing or overthinking anymore.

"Need somethin'?" He asks, eyes flicking up to you for a moment before returning to the flames.

You hang your thumbs in your belt loops, fingers tapping against your hips. "If you're not busy, I was hoping maybe you could go down to the water with me? I'd ask someone else but they all seem rather occupied at the moment... and I don't think Shane'd let me go alone." You say.

He looks up, jaw set awfully close to a scowl. "I ain't gonna be yer damn bodyguard." He huffs.

"No- I don't want you to watch me or anything like that- I guess I'm just asking for companionship?" You reply. "You could do whatever you're gonna do here, but just do it down there?" You hike your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the pond.

He stays silent, but a sudden chorus of laughter flows out from the direction of the rest of the group. You study the way the firelight smooths out his rough edges, and you can't help but wonder if the look in his eyes is just boredom or if it's really loneliness.

"Unless you prefer Merle's company, then by all means I'll leave ya to it." You continue, trying your best to ignore Merle sawing logs in the tent, and erase the image of his hand too close to his crotch from your mind.

He jams the stick into the dirt hard enough that it remains standing when he lets go. "A'ight. Lemme get 'mah stuff."

"Awesome, I'll be over at my tent when you're ready." You smile, pleased and a little surprised that you'd managed to get him to say yes. Admittedly, Merle wasn't so bad when he was passed out, but it was reassuring to know that you were at least preferred company over an unconscious jerk.

---

Dirt and gravel crunch under your boots as the two of you walk, your knapsack bouncing steadily against your back with each step. "Thanks for coming with me. I'm not necessarily afraid of the dark or anything, but there's a lot worse things in the woods now than just coyotes." You explain. "And it's just nice not to be alone."

He simply grunts in response.

Good thing you didn't ask him along for his conversational skills.

When you reach the edge of the water you find a rock close to the shore to set out clean clothes and a towel. You see Daryl settle down, back propped against a boulder as he starts rummaging around in his own bag. "Whatcha gonna work on?" You ask.

He pulls out a whetstone and a couple large hunting knives. "Cleanin' mah tools." He replies.

You begin to undress, but a feeling of uncertainty causes you to pause. "Man, I wish I didn't feel like he's sitting up there right now with those binoculars..."

"Who? Shane?" He asks sounding surprised.

"Yeah." You shudder. "Guy gives me the creeps."

You hear scrape of the knife grinding against the sharpener. "Well, hurry up an'ere won' be anythin' ta see." He says.

"Yeah..." You keep your eye on Daryl while you finish, but he doesn't lift his gaze even once beyond sharpening his knife. "I won't be long." You assure him as the cool water rises around you.

As soon as you're far enough in you dive forward, the rush of water instantly reviving and refreshing your whole body as it flows past. You rise upwards as giddiness fills you and you break the surface with a laugh. "This is heavenly!" You gasp. You continue diving and twirling, every sore muscle and painful bruise easing away.

You pause to catch your breath and a small splash has you immediately alert. You left your knife up on the shore with Daryl, but you hadn't heard any sounds of alarm from him so surely it's not a walker. But when you look to the shore the sight has you almost equally as shocked. Daryl is chest deep in the water - bare chested that is - ripples being sent out across the still expanse as he sinks further in.

"Hey!" You yell. "I asked you out here because I thought you weren't some sorta pervert!" You hope it's dark enough that nothing in the water is visible because he's only getting closer.

The moon is full and bright, and the way it reflects off the water makes him look almost ethereal. "Can't protect ya if I'm up'ere an' yer alla'way out 'ere." He reasons.

"I don't need protecting." You roll your eyes. "And all the weapons are up there, Dixon!" You send a splash of water directly into his face.

He returns the splash. "Looked like I was missin' out on alla fun." He shrugs. "'Sides, ya never know when somethin' might jus'-" he disappears under the surface of the water and barely a second later something wraps around your ankle, tugging you under the surface.

When you're released you bob back up to the top wanting to be stern, but you're too busy giggling and swallowing mouthfuls of water to do so. When he surfaces behind you, you turn and splash him again sputtering, "Daryl you- that's not- I can't-" and end up full on belly laughing while trying to stay afloat.

You think you catch the shadow of a smile on his lips before he turns and floats away, like he's done nothing worthy of retaliation. 'Oho boy is he gonna get it.' As quietly as possible you lower yourself in the water, and using shadows from the moonlight, you swim under his head. Reaching up with both hands you use all your strength to grab his shoulders and pull yourself above the surface while pushing him down as hard as you can. Then you make a break for it.

You hear him gasp for air, coughing and sputtering as you swim as fast as you can in the opposite direction.

"Get back 'ere, woman!" He shouts, his tone highly amused. "Yer gonna hafta pay 'fer that!"

You don't realize how loudly you're laughing until the beam of a flashlight is suddenly shining directly in your face.

"Everything alright here?" Shane questions, standing on the shore not far from your and Daryl's discarded clothes. A few of the others are with him; Dale, Andrea, T-Dog, and Morales.

Even in the chilly water you can feel your skin begin to flush all the way down your neck. "Yes! All good!" You squeak out, squinting in the harsh brightness.

"We heard yelling." Andrea chimes in.

You're confident that in all your life you've never been more embarrassed. "That was laughing, guys. I wanted a bath and I asked Daryl to be my bodyguard. We were just, uh, blowing off some steam and I guess we got a little loud... Sorry if we worried anyone." You glance at Daryl who appears to be doing his best impression of the invisible man.

You can make out Dale's hat exceptionally well even in the darkness. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Their hesitation to leave sparks frustration within you - do they really think so lowly of Daryl? Is that what this is all about? Sure, nobody really knows him all that well, but you're all practically strangers and he's done alright by you. The desire to defend him takes over and you snap at the group, "Ah, what're y'all, the fun police? Go ruin somebody else's night and leave us be."

You don't take a good breath until they're all headed back to camp, and it's once again quiet and dark. You sigh, tilting your head back to watch the stars so high above as you float. "Dead people walking around eatin' living people - ya think they'd have bigger problems to deal with than a couple'a skinny dippers." You remark.

A quick exhale of a laugh, not quite a snort, echoes across the pond. "People're always jealous of'a good time if they ain't havin' one." He says quietly.

You pull your fingers through the water, feeling the tension push against them. "So... are ya feeling jealous, or did ya have a good time?" You ask.

"S'pose it wasn't too bad." He says. "But I ain't yer damn bodyguard."

And you grin.

---

Yeah, maybe it's a little awkward getting dried off, getting dressed, and walking back to camp but you sleep more soundly than you have since you arrived. And maybe you're a little annoyed with the way everyone seems to have nothing better to do than gossip, but that new gleam in Daryl's eye when he looks at you wipes it all from your mind. And maybe a lot of things suck, but at the end of the day there's someone who actually likes you, and maybe that's enough.

[rebelliousstories]

Rightful Spot

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Mentions of Fighting

Word Count: 1,521

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: After coming back to his timeline and finally joining in on missions, Remy underestimated how powerful cuddles could be.

Consider Donating: Here

Looking back on it now, he could have stuck that landing better. However, the circumstances leading to him having to stick a landing were a bit unforgiving, so it should not have been terribly surprising. Still, falling from the sky and rolling into a dark alleyway was not how Remy wanted his welcome home to be.

He could not complain though. Remy was home. He was back in his own universe, and now had a renewed sense of purpose. Stumbling out into where he could see lights, familiar sights and sounds greeted him like old friends. New Orleans, Louisiana; home sweet home. Gambit was on Bourbon Street, which was always hustling and bustling.

His feet began the trek to who knows where. All he knew was that they were going some place familiar and safe. The man ducked and weaved, making his way effortlessly through the crowds. In his hands, a card was always there, just in case. Further and further from the crowds, his feet took him. Down to where there were some apartment buildings, his brain finally started catching up with his feet. Taking over, Remy bolted up to the top, and began to run across the rooftops to his destination.

Dropping onto the fire escape, he thanked whatever was out there that he managed to keep mostly quiet. Peaking inside the window, he was shocked to see someone was still awake. In fact, multiple someone’s had been awake and moving about the apartment. Remy could not hear what was being said, but he knew those faces. Scott with his red glasses, and Jean with her matching red hair, Storm with her flowing white locks, and her. His cher was sitting there entertaining them all.

She looked like she was exhausted. Not from sleep, but mentally and emotionally tired. She looked like how Remy felt being in the Void. In her hands was a mug of something warm, probably that tea she likes to drink, and one of Gambit’s jackets around her. His heart tugged at the sight, and his lips curled in a smile. She never did do well with the cold.

Picking the lock on the window, Remy silently creeped into the apartment. Their eyes had not noticed the new person in the apartment, but he noticed how quiet it had gotten. Before he could speak, his body was suspended in the air as Jean turned to face the man. But she gasped in shock and let the man go almost immediately. The rest of the party was just a second behind her.

“Now, that ain’t no way to treat da Gambit, no?” His hands began massaging his body as the other people finally reacted to the new arrival. He heard her voice whisper out his name as he stood once more.

“Cher, I’m home. I’m so sorry.” But before he got any closer, Scott stepped in front of the ladies.

“If you really are Gambit, what’s something only he would know, huh? What was the last thing he said to me?” Scott pressed, worried that this might be an imposter.

“Cyclops, really? I just got back, mon ami. We really gonna have us an inquisition right now?” But the man was not swayed.

“What was the last thing Gambit told me?”

The Cajun was looked around for someone to support him not doing this, and just wanted to lay his eyes on his girl again. But he groaned, and wiped a hand over his face in frustration.

“Gambit told ya, ‘I’ll go on the mission. Jean needs ya here. Tell my cher dat I love her.’ That was the last thing I told ya before leaving for that damn mission to go so some recon on the brotherhood.” Everyone stood down. But Scott was still unimpressed.

“Where have you been all this time? And why only come back now?” He continued, even though Jean was tugging at his sleeve.

“Went on dat mission, and touched down in da forest. Didn’t find no brotherhood, but instead some people called da TVA takin’ bunch o’ dem out. Next thing I know, I wake up in da desert in some place called the Void. Been der evea’ since. Den a Deadpool and a Wolverine fought to leave the Void, and bargained for my freedom to come back as well as others. Believe me now, Scott?” Remy was getting fed up with answering questions. All he wanted was to get her in his arms.

Before anyone could speak again, he was nearly knocked over by the weight and force of something hitting him hard and fast. Remy regained his balance and looked down to see his girl squeezing him tight. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Hands landed on his arms, and he found Scott and Jean there on one side, with Storm on the other. Remy pulled the rest of the gang close as he relished this moment he never expected to have again.

After a few months of training, flying back to New York to go live at the school again, and a brief adjustment period to not always being on edge about who or what was going to find him, Gambit was back in the field. He did not do solo missions anymore, but he was excelling in team exercises again. This last one had kicked everyone’s butt though.

What was meant to be a simple mission of going down to help stop a mutant riot in the city, turned into a full scale brawl with the Brotherhood. In the end, they had eventually stopped the riot, but not without acquiring some scratches and bumps. The flight back to the school was a silent one; one where everyone that was not navigating the plane just wanted to rest with their eyes closed, and their brain off.

It was a smooth landing, which was a blessing. But having to walk back up was a curse. Every bone felt ten times heavier, and their feet felt like they were made of lead, but they did it. Bidding his teammates adieu, Remy continued his climb to where their room was. Thankfully, she had moved back into the mansion, having left when Remy disappeared, and was staying in their old room together. It was just like no time had passed.

Creaking the door open, he was delighted to see that she was folding some laundry with music playing somewhere in the background. Upon hearing the footsteps, she looked up, smiled, and abandoned her task.

“Remy, you’re home! Are you alright?” Her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug that made him groan.

“Ease up, cher. Ol’ Gambit done had the card house dropped on him.” Pulling away, she saw that a bruise was starting to form right underneath his chin. She traced a feather light touch over it, and furrowed her brows.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” She pleaded, worried to see what other marks he had gained in the afternoon that he had been gone.

“Non, cher. Just finish wit’ dem clothes so we can lay down, yeah? Gonna go get out of my suit now.” Gambit pressed a kiss to her lips, but was careful over the split he felt in the corner. While he went to the bathroom to change, she resumed her task of getting the laundry done.

Her mind was distracted, and worried about her lover that was just on the other side of the door. She could hear his groans and hisses, especially once the water started and he was underneath the stream. Setting out a loose shirt, and an equally loose pair of pajama pants, she went to work putting the rest of the clothes away while waiting for him to come out.

The door opened, and she just had to turn to see. Bruises started darkening already, and there were some minor scrapes, but that seemed to be the brunt of his injuries. With a towel loose around his hips, he grabbed the clothes from the bed, and sent his lover a wink. Not a seductive or even teasing wink, but rather a way to say thank you. He disappeared back into the bathroom, and she changed herself to something a bit more comfortable. As she was pulling the covers back from the bed, Remy emerged once more, with damp hair, and a fresh set of clothes on.

Gambit crawled into the plush bed, and sunk into it with a groan. She giggled, but crawled in beside her lover all the same. His arms, no matter how bruised or sore, opened wide to accept her right where she was supposed to be. They were facing each other, and her hands were tucked up against his chest to keep her close. One arm under her neck, and one around her waist, Remy kept her as close as humanly possible.

“Je t’aime, cher.” Remy whispered, pressing a kiss to her hairline as they began to drift off.

“I love you too, Remy.” She replied, feeling perfectly at peace in her spot with her lover.

[blueicequeen19]

The Inmate

Warnings: tattooed inmate JJ, creampie, dirty talk

It’s late and the only other guard on duty is watching the front as you lead your prisoner further into the empty basement.

“Hope you’re not afraid of the dark.” He pops off as you round a corner and head down another long hallway. You hate the way he smirks as you force him into the small, dark office. His cocky attitude had plagued you since day one. And since then.. you’d known this was only a matter of time.

“What’s this about, Officer?” JJ practically coos, grinning at you in the dark after you lock the door and force him to sit in the old desk chair. You hate how good he looks even in his uniform. His hair is long and unruly, his body filled out and covered with muscles, and that damn throat tattoo just begging to be..

“You know what this is about.” You bite out, briefly tempted to remove his cuffs but then think better of it. He was a flight risk, just like his dad.

“Show me.” He licks his lips, eyeing you hungrily as you undo your belt and sit it on the desk. Next are your boots and pants.

“This is only happening once. To get it out of my system.”

“More.” He nods to your button up, ignoring your words.

“Shut up.” You growl before moving to tug his pants down.

“Sit on my face and make me.” JJ bites his lip as you free the massive erection in his pants. You wrap your hand around it and give it a squeeze as butterflies fill your stomach. It was a struggle to appear unimpressed but he’d managed to rub it against you more times than you cared to admit. You knew he was packing.

“You try anything and you’ll regret it.” You warn, tightening your grip until his thighs flex, slowly unbuttoning your shirt with your free hand.

“Trust me, I want you to use me right now. As many times as you want.” JJ’s breathing comes faster, his body already taunt as he waits for your next move. You keep your eyes on his as you slowly lower your panties and let them fall to your ankles.

“I want to taste you.” He practically begs.

“Too bad.” You move to stand directly in front of him, loving the way his pupils are blown and his cock begs for attention. A drop of precum weeps from the tip and you fight the urge to trace it with your tongue.

“No touching.” You turn around, giving him a perfect view of your round ass as you use the desk to brace yourself.

“Oh, fuck.” JJ’s strained words have you shaking with anticipation as you reach between your legs to guide his thick cock where you need him.

“Jesus, you’re so wet.”

“Shut up.” The head slips in with ease and you groan in unison. You sank down half way, your walls stretching to accommodate him as you braced yourself on his thighs. He was so big. And thick. This position almost hurt.

“Fuckkkkkkk.” JJ plants his feet and thrusts the rest of the way in, making you cry out from the sudden harsh intrusion.

“Fuck, it’s deep.” You cry, plastering your back to his chest as you watch him start to fuck you. His panting fills the air along with your moans. The slap of his balls against your ass echos as you bounce to keep up with his movements. It felt like he was in your stomach, about to come out your throat.

“You gonna cum for me? You know you love this inmate cock.” JJ groans into your neck, making your insides pulse as you barrel towards an explosive climax. You snake an arm around his neck, gripping his hair as you plant your feet on the desk to help yourself bounce. His cuffed hands fist your shirt at your back, keeping you in place as you fuck each other.

“Fuck, J.” You whimper, reaching down to rub your clit with your free hand. The orgasm is explosive, barely giving you enough time to clamp your lips shut as your body convulses around him.

“Thats it. Milk me dry.” He bites your ear lobe, making you clench harder around his cock as you try to come back down from your high. Your legs shake uncontrollably and you can barely catch your breath as he pummels harder into you.

Without warning he’s standing and bending you at the waist so your chest meets the desk. A loud cry echos in the room as he fucks you even harder than before, the new position making your knees buckle.

“Look at you. A complete fucking mess for me and I’m still in cuffs.” JJ taunts, kicking your feet wider apart as his hands grip your ass. Your breath fans across the test as he drives you closer and closer to the edge with every snap of his hips.

When you both reach your peak at the same time and he moans loud and long as he releases inside you is the moment you realize that this won’t just be a one time thing.

[redcherrykook]

── ˙✧°📷 TORN PICTURES AND FROZEN LENSES 4

────୨ৎ────

College Photography Teacher!Jungkook x Student!Reader

27 year old, stupidly handsome asshole teacher Mr. Jeon has absolutely no human decency, he believes your victim complex is what keeps you from ever achieving anything, letting people use you as a bridge. When something unexpected happens, the ice starts to melt as a foreign word called "empathy" enters his egocentric lense. Maybe he will finally manage to teach you a lesson now, since you keep failing his class.

(Mini series)- Episode four!

Song recommendation: circles- post malone

Content: Cold, mean, distant, unprofessional Jungkook, hurt, stubborn reader, enemies to lovers, lowkey dramatic, accident happens, mutually beneficial relationship (emotionally), Jk learns a lot from her, Jk is mean but has a soft spot for reader (eventually), 6 year age gap, Reader is from a struggling background, Jk kind of rescues her, happy ending, angst at first, fluff, smut, comedy/crack, bickering, college setting, brief hospital setting

Warnings: swearing, name-calling,mentions of an accident involving a biker, mentions of hospital, mentions of injuries, really mean Jungkook, i promise he gets sweet, mentions of trauma and abuse (non detailed), mental health struggles (semi detailed), arguments

Taglist: @bts-iris @kaeysv @khadeeeeej @rockstryoon

────୨ৎ────

"Jungkook?" you shout when stepping out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of baggy, low sitting sweats and a black tanktop that you had taken with you earlier. Appropriate for late night Fried chicken runs. Your voice filling up the empty hallway, no sight of the handsome teacher.

His groan can he heard from behind his bedroom door as he opens it.

"Finally done?", he walks out, a comfortable white hoodie with matching bottoms hanging loosely on his body.

Something about these damn casual clothes just make him look attractive.

It felt like your own little secret, seeing Jungkook outside of his classroom, his perfectly correlated image.

In the comfort of his own home, messy, having just woken up or going out casually.

It made you feel giddy, even if it was not supposed to.

Jungkooks eyes glue on your neckline, collarbones so delicately on display, damp hair sprawled out.

The drops of water dropping on your shirt reminding him of him of the forbidden thoughts tangled in his mind minutes earlier.

Gulping, he points to it "Dry your hair, you´re gonna catch a cold"

"Was gonna ask you for the blow dryer" you say, noticing the way his eyes focus on your cleavage.

No, you're over analyzing things now.

"Let me get it, right here" his inked arm reaching into a cupboard of the bathroom, pulling out a hairdryer and handing it to you.

"Thanks" your smile spread across your face as you dry your hair quickly, Jungkook gathers up his wallet and car keys, waiting for you at the front door.

"Lets go get drunk" you giggle with a fist pumped up into the air, walking past him to put on your shoes on. It had been ages since you had last gotten drunk with someone.

"The shit I do with you hm? How did we even get here" he shakes his head, trying to hide the little smile playing on his pierced lip.

"No idea, but I´m trying to forget all that mess anyways. you ready?" you reply to him, opening the front door to make your way to his car.

Buckled in, excited to loosen up a bit, you hit the radio to play.

The thrid time´s a charm right?

"Yeah no shut it off" he says, reaching to turn it off with his free hand.

"Nope. Only now please, not even the ride back, Are you allergic to music?" you slap his hand away, chuckling and waiting for the news segment on the radio to conclude.

"You´re in my car idiot, turn the radio off" he groans, his face beaming with annoyance.

Instead of responding and complying to his wishes, you turn up the volume and start singing along to the song playing, arms swaying in motion as happiness fills your body up. Being around Jungkook made you able to stop worrying so much about everything, you enjoyed a moment like this. Devoid of any care in the world, any problems or uncertainty.

Glancing over to him, his eyes locked on to the road with his lips tugging back a grin.

"See? not too bad" you tease while continuing to sway to the music.

"Horrible actually, your awfully off key singing just makes it worse. Check if my ears are bleeding i feel you´re ruining them"

"Drama queen. I´m a music major, I know i can sing stop pretending" your eyes roll, looking out of the window as the next song plays. he scoffs, secretly waiting for you to resume your screeching.

Instead of singing your heart out, you hum lowly to the soft vocals playing in the car. Jungkook snorts suddenly, making you shoot him a look of anger.

"Took that to heart? Keep singing idiot, you sound fine" his eyes move to yours in an attempt to show he´s just fooling around with you, while also pulling into the drive through of the chicken place.

"You suck. I forgive you because you´re buying me food" your hands reach for the radio, turning it off to make the employee hear Jungkook´s order. He smirks slightly, shifting in his seat to turn to you. With the way he´s looking at you, you expect him to say something serious.

"Ridiculous" is all he says before placing the order.

"Are we going to get soju from a convenience store?" You ask him, noticing he's driving back in the direction of his place.

"Yeah, its closer to me. I'll let you pick the flavors even" his voice in a low but playful tone.

"That´s crazy you're sooo sweet" obviously sarcastic you touch his shoulder, eyes squinting at him.

He grins, "I'm doing great at being nice aren't i? Come on, we need to get out here" he says when parking on the side of the street.

The store had many, many flavors. You examine each one carefully, wisely choosing which one fits the current vibe of well, getting drunk with an unexpected new friend who you happen to live with now. All the while, Jungkook is peacefully clutching hands full of snacks and ramyeon.

"I think ill take two melon, one strawberry and one peach. Sound good?" You mumble, looking over at him.

Immediately you start to laugh, he is standing there looking like a hungry kid left alone in the snack aisle. Tightly gripping on to as many snacks his large hands could hold on to. To capture this hilarious moment, you pull out your phone to snap a pic.

Rolling his eyes at your gesture, he nods, "Take one more peach, i like that one the best" he adds, already scanning his snacks at self check out.

"Noted" you reply, grabbing one more peach soju and setting down the five bottles of liquor for him to scan.

When he does, you walk back to the car, a bag full of alcohol, snacks and ramyeon in Jungkook's hand.

This was going to be a long night

"I guess we're calling in sick tomorrow?" He says, pulling the car out of the parking spot and driving back to his apartment.

"Naah, we'll be fine, right? Or are you a lightweight?" you smirk at him playfully, knowing very well that four shots are enough to get you very tipsy.

"Unfortunately that is one of the very few flaws i have. Don't act like you're all hard-core huh" he scoffs, remembering how horrible his last time being drunk went. He completely lost his mind. Drank way more than he should have and ended up waking up at some random girl's couch, next to two other men.

25 was definitely a crazy age for Jungkook, lesson learned.

That is however, also how he met his best friend Mingyu. Him being one of the other guys on this woman's couch.

That's a story for another day.

"Mister perfect over here. Yeah yeah, i'm also a light weight. But I'm a funny drunk"

His eyebrows furrow, "funny drunk?" he asks

"Yeah, like when i'm drunk i get super funny and unserious. Some people are angry drunks or emotional drunks" you explain, your eyes focused on the steering wheel. Studying the way his hand wraps around it, his fingers tapping against the smooth leather whenever he stopps the car.

He hums in return,

"Which one are you?" you ask him curiously, imagining what it would be like if he was also a funny drunk, dancing on his living room table or cracking up at something stupid.

It's not nearly as impossible to imagine as when you had first met him. After this past week of spontaneously getting to know parts of him, he is not actually as boring as initially anticipated.

Still, the thought seems particularly interesting, maybe a little over exaggerated.

"Don´t know. I guess we'll find out today" he says shrugging, his lips curving into a small, meaningless smile.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"Wahhh finally" you exclaim, letting out a huff of air when setting down the bottles of soju on the table along with the food and some snacks.

You plop down on his couch dramatically, waiting for him to sit down next to you. He does exactly that, opening one of the peach soju bottles and pouring both of you a shot.

Slowly, you reach for his hand to place the small glass in your fingers, focused on the millisecond his hand would graze yours. He hands it to you carefully before taking his own glass in his hands.

"What do you wanna toast to?" He asks, leaning back against his couch. His legs are spread, his right arm supporting his head by propping it up on a cushion.

"Gosh i can't pick one, there's so much that happend" you giggle, zoning out while looking at the table and remembering how you were hit by the biker, how you had an argument with him, the day of getting kicked out and much more.

He snaps you out of your flashbacks, "You're trying to forget all that right? Stand above it?" his question makes you nod at him.

"Then lets just toast to a new chapter" he says blankly, his eyes moving to yours, awaiting approval.

"Sure, good idea" you smile slightly, extending your arm forward to meet him in the middle as he does the same, glasses clinking together.

You pour the shot down, the alcohol slightly burning your throat in a delicious, satisfying way. It truly felt like things had gotten better.

Washing away whatever has led you here in the first place.

He does the same, his hair falling behind him messily, his neck beautifully on display as he swallows down the shot.

"So? Good right, told you this flavor is it" he says, waiting for you to say something in return. His hands reach to take his glasses off, revealing all of his softened face to your wandering eyes.

"Tastes sweet" mindlessly licking your lips, savoring the remains of alcohol on them, you look into his eyes.

You watch them go down where your tongue had just been before, shooting back up again quickly.

"Lets eat im hungry" you fake whine, setting down the glass and opening up the bag of food.

Jungkook groans in return, reaching to take out some food as well.

"Always so impatient"

The time passes rather quickly. Soon the food was finished, both of you had already drunken one soju bottle each, the next one already half empty, opened on the table.

"You know.." you say, tipsy and with a wide smile sprawled across your face. Cheeks flushed pink from the liqour you consumed.

Lightweight indeed.

Jungkook tilts his head, listening to you closely.

"I'm reaaallllly thankful for you kook" you giggle, the nickname just naturally spilling out from your lips. Your vision is blurry, but you´re almost certain you see a smile creep up his face.

He notices it too, feeling his heart turn warmer as his brain gets irritated at the feeling. To try and conceal his painfully loud heartbeat, he reaches to pour another shot. Throwing it back into his mouth, right after doing the same with the second one.

"Me tooooo" you laugh, reaching forward with grabby hands, trying to take the bottle away from him.

He stops you, pushing your arm back down, noticing his body becoming more dizzy and uncorrelated.

"You've had enough idiot, no more drinking for you" his voice is low and sultry, his eyes remaining glued to the smile on your face, not a serious thought behind your red and glazed eyes.

You´re a funny drunk for sure.

"Okay thennn but, kook?" You question, scooting closer to him on the couch. He winces at the nickname, it's not easy to ignore when you keep calling him that, keep reminding him of that feeling in his chest.

He stiffens up at your proximity, feeling the need to run away from this.

But he simply can not bring himself to do so.

"Hm?" he says, setting the bottle down and waiting for your question. He expects something stupid and senseless, his mind growing more fuzzy as the soju's effect kicks in.

"Why are you always so mean? I learned once in psychology class... you know.. people are mean to protect themselves" you slur, tugging playfully on his hoodie when asking the question.

He pulls his arm away, looking at the table and scoffing.

"Come onnn you know sooooo much about me too jungkook" you´re back to giggling again, the wide and drunken smile still spread on your face.

He takes another shot to prepare himself for this uncomfortable conversation, if he was even to engage in it.

Just in case.

The thoughts in his head are blurry, raw in emotion and unclear all at once. Memories of his past resurfacing in a haze, reminding him of the scars he carries within him.

Whether from the alcohol or the questions, his eyes become glossy.

"Had a bad upbringing, got bullied and beat a lot for stupid shit like my interests" his voice starting to slur out lowly, shaking his head at the memory of his hometown school. Jungkook sighs before taking a deep breath.

"Made me toughen up i guess" he says, his eyes wandering to meet your face again.

You were not smiling anymore, instead a big overly expressing pout on your lips. Mumbling a couple "M'so sorry kook"

He nods, ready to change the topic.

"You've a gooooood heart. Promise"

Your hands are both pressed against his chest, firmly.

Your touch feels like fire on his body, even if covered by a thick piece of clothing, he can feel it. He can feel every crevice of your skin slowly imprinting on his chest. Your words only leave behind a bigger mark, staining his brain with them.

Instead of pulling away, his eyes glue to you, remembering to engrave this moment into his mind, hoping it would still be there once he sobers up.

As he stares, he can't help but bite his lip at you flushes cheeks, how soft your hair looks, slightly draping on your lazy smile.

Suddenly, you take your hands off his chest, hugging them around yourself, dramatically shivering.

"Aahgg, so cold. Wow, are we in the arctics?" you laugh wholeheartedly at your stupid joke, convinced it must be the funniest thing you had ever said.

For the first time in a while, Jungkook acts before he thinks. Excusing it by his clouded state of mind, confident he can blame it all on the alcohol, not on his feelings.

He pulls his white hoodie above his head, leaving him in a tanktop. Without hesistation, he pulls you closer. So close, your knees are on top of his thighs, one more move and you would be sitting on his lap.

He puts the hoodie over you gently, telling you to push your arms up the sleeves.

You comply, laughing loudly.

He smiles when you get stuck in the hood,so he reaches to pull it down, revealing your messy haired head inches away from his own.

The world freezes and becomes yours only.

His face inches closer to yours, looking into your eyes softly. Your breath is quiet on his face as you are stood still, a small smile hung up on your lips. Screaming to be kissed, screaming for him to close the distance.

You might be drunk, but you aren't wasted.

Jungkook's face looks even more beautiful up close, the scar on his cheek perfecting his features, his sharp eyes looking at you as big, brown, doe ones instead.

He looks at you like you hung up the stares for him.

Your heart is clenching at the closeness, the moment feels eternal, only one more second until you would break all you had known and get what you had wanted most right now.

Jungkook licks his lip piercing, pulling away from you before clearing his throat.

It was almost like you could hear your heart shatter if you had listend close enough.

Foolish little me.

"We're both too drunk. Come on, let's get you into bed" he smiles at you softly, standing up wobbly and reaching his arm out to help you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The alarm rings, causing Jungkook to wake up. Still on his couch, a annoyingly heavy feeling on his head.

Stupid hangovers.

Turning off the alarm he sits up, staring at the messy table before him. Three empty bottles of soju laughing at him for his stupidity.

Nothing goes right when he drinks.

He rubs his head in annoyance, noticing that he is not wearing his hoodie.

Memories of your face close to his, your hand on his chest, flashing in his mind.

Get yourself together, Jungkook, that's all meaningless. You can't keep flirting with your student.

Groggyly he calls into the office, announcing his absence for the day before cleaning up the mess that yesterday's night has left.

Throwing out the empty containers of food, gathering the two left over bottles and putting them into the fridge.

When taking the last steps to a clean living room, still thinking about the way your voice sounded saying his name yesterday, he knocks over an empty bottle of soju.

Crash.

You shoot up from the loud noise, immediately groaning at the penetrating headache that was the result of yesterdays escapades.

Should've known better.

When rubbing your eyes and yawning, you quickly walk out to room to look for the noise, spotting Jungkook crouched down, cleaning up the shattered glass.

"Ah fuck. Sorry i woke you up" he says, voice still raspy from sleep, turning his body to look at you. You stood there, sleepy and still in his comically large hoodie.

He wanted to stop thinking about you.

"Yeah its okay, you good? What time is it?" You stretch your arms up, only now noticing that you're still wearing his clothes.

Remembering the way you wanted him to kiss you just hours earlier.

"I´m good. Its dawn crack in the fucking morning because i thought I would be able to work today. No way in hell am i leaving this house" he groans, throwing away the glass shards.

You hum, awkwardly creating silence between the both of you.

Luckily he breaks it soon enough.

"Nice dress you got there" he remarks with a smirk, obviously making fun of you.

You scoff, pulling the hoodie over your head and throwing it at him.

He chuckles briefly at your actions, remembering how he threw a shirt at you before.

"Fair enough" he mumbles as you walk past him to the bathroom,

"Emotional" stopping next to him to pat his shoulder.

He glances at you, confused

"Are you talking in riddles to piss me off?"

"You're an emotional drunk, kook" you say, closing the door on him once again.

When having done your morning pee and it's time for you to walk back out of the bathroom, he´s sat on the couch.

"Why are you calling me by a nickname so suddenly?" he blurts out, his eyes sternly glaring at you. You scoff, wondering why he's so worked up about it.

Jungkook wanted nothing more than to forget what had happened, to not have to confront his feelings.

But if you were gonna call him 'kook', he would be constantly reminded of it.

Even if he liked the way it sounded, replaying in his mind.

"Because it suits you" your reply seems to anger him even more, unsure what you meant by your words.

"I'm not your little friend y/n. Don't get to comfortable" he spits out rudely, fully regretting it the moment his words leave his mouth.

Why was it so difficult to ignore you?

You roll your eyes at him, not taking it to heart. Well aware he's just saying things to hurt you.

After the way he opened up yesterday, even if drunk, you trusted him.

Trusted that he trusted you too.

His defenses are hard to lower, but you want to. Even if that means sometimes taking hits.

Jungkook needed someone to understand him, just like you needed someone like him as well.

Someone that accepts the way you are, while trying to help ypu change into a better version of you.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to strike a nerve" you reply casually, walking into the kitchen.

"I'm cooking hangover soup. If you're done being an asshole go get you some" your voice shouting from the kitchen.

"Whatever" he says, laying back down on the couch.

Googling up a recipe, you began cooking, occasionally looking at Jungkook passed out once again on his couch.

"Ridiculous" you huff out, lips pursed.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"I'm NOT going to do that, no way Taehyung" you laugh at the guy in front of you.

Two days have passed since drinking with Jungkook. It's now friday afternoon, you're sitting in the library with the freshmen from the orientation.

Taehyung came up to you after class, asking to study for a test together. He´d been eyeing you ever since, still calling you ´´pretty´´ instead of your actual name.

The days have passed as normal, bickering with Jungkook and talking about things here and there.

You would be lying if you said that it hasn't been a little awkward.

It was getting harder to ignore the way you felt when Jungkook was around you, the way his strong veiny hands looked, the way he groaned at his laptop, adjusting his glasses.

How you wanted to trace every line of his sleeve tattoo.

The way you smelled his shirt he had given you to sleep in.

He was slightly more distant, restraining himself countless of times.

From thinking about you, wrapped around him.

"What? Why not. It's just a party" Taehyung smiles, closing down his laptop and taking a sip of his drink.

"Exactly. A freshmen party. I'm not a fan of parties, i pass. Hope you'll have fun though" you give him a thumbs up, shaking your head.

It was obvious that Taehyung wanted to take you there to get a chance at getting in your pants.

After seeing him on campus, he was always talking to some girl. It had only been two days that you hung out, counting today.

His flirty personality making it evident that although he could potentially be a good friend,

He was definitely not looking to date you.

Or anyone at all.

"A shame. You're kinda boring. Cute, but boring" he winks, packing up his stuff with you following suit.

"Thanks you party animal. Can't wait to hear about how many girls you've slept with after. Text me yeah? Stay safe" pulling him into a hug, you both walk outside of the library.

"Okay mom, will do"

Your face scrunches up in disgust at the nickname,

"Never do that again" you say hitting his arm, earning a loud laugh from him

Once you made sure Taehyung has left your eyesight, you walk behind the building to get into Jungkook's car.

Two minutes past the agreed upon time, you find him biting the inside of his cheek in annoyance.

"Hey, sorry I'm a wee bit late. Had to fight off demons" you joke while buckling in your seat.

"What happened this time?" Jungkook's eyebrow lifts curiously, he remembered Taehyung stopping you at the end of his class.

The thought pissed him off heavily,

"I was studying with Taehyung but he wanted me to come to a party with him" you explain, watching as his eyes darken and his hand tightening on the steering wheel.

"Is that so?" his voice sounding husky, "Are you going? I need to be prepared if i have to come pick you up disguised" he scoffs, looking out the window.

"Of course not. He's just saying that to get me tipsy in hopes of getting in bed with me" you giggle, amused by Jungkook's reaction.

When he stays silent, you decide to tease him.

"What? You look like something's bothering you kook" purposely using his nickname to push his buttons further.

His eyes look down at you, licking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

"Yeah? You're bothering me. I don´t wanna hear about some college boy in your pants, none of my business" he says, driving off to his apartment.

Another lie passing his lips, he definitely cared if you were going to sleep with some campus playboy.

Surpised at the fact he's not fighting you on the nickname, you decide to test your limits. Pushing his buttons could end up in a fight, if not, the smile he gives will have made it worth the risk.

"I told him to text me how many girls he'll sleep with. What do you think kook? Im guessing four" you nervously watch his features, concentrating on any changes that might indicate anger or annoyance.

"You're gross. I'm not playing that game with you. Also, i know exactly what you're trying to do. I don't mind the nickname, stupid"

You smile at his reaction, patting his shoulder,

"Good. I wouldn't have stopped using it anyways"

[fandomwritingbit]

Sweet Girl pt.2

dad's friend William Afton x fem/virgin reader

Synop: William catches reader outside her house, he can't help but steal her away to show her something new.

Pt. 1 - here

warnings: creepy pinning lol, corruption, coercion (possibly dubcon I'm not too sure), groping, inappropriate relationship. William teaching reader things, smut (hand things Will and reader receiving).

A/n: tis hardly proofread my apologies for any mistakes.

To say he’s been thinking about you would be to put it lightly. Most days he sees you leaving the house headed for your work as he’s setting off for his own, he smiles at you knowingly, sometimes waving or beckoning you over, laughing when you put your head down and pretend not to notice him. It’s been nearly two weeks since the ‘incident’ in your kitchen and try as he might he just can’t get you alone. Every time he comes over to see your dad you are conveniently not there. It’s endearing to him, addictive even. It’s the chase that’s the best part, not that the catch will be too bad either. 

It crosses his mind as he rings the bell that he’s mad at your father for interrupting last time he had sweet little you to himself, but he sets the grudge aside, your dad is his way in and he needs to stay friendly. And so here he is, standing on your front porch with a bottle of whiskey to split with your dad. Fuming that the old fucker was making him wait out in the cold like some little kid on prom night, and he wasn’t even going to get his hands on you. 

Eventually your dad answers the door, quickly patting William on the back and letting him in for ‘one glass’, which definitely meant the whole damned bottle. To be fair he needed it after a long week of slaving away at his restaurant, before his sights were set on making you his little toy, the thought of a stiff drink was the only thing that got him through it. Especially when his wife and kids were at home, though that’s not a so much a concern anymore. 

~

The night, and bottle, goes fast, the two men talking and laughing together over highschool shenanigans and pessimistic comments about their respective marriages. But as his whatever-th glass comes up empty, William finds his leg bouncing with the need for a smoke, one of his many vices that has him at its beck and call. 

“You alright, fella?” Your dad asks, not sure why his friend has suddenly gone quiet and retreated in his own head. 

William’s eyes flick over to him, “Yeah, yeah.” He pauses for a second, thinking about what he wants to do before settling on leaving, “Gonna take myself off home, I’m dying for a fag.” He stands as he speaks, patting his pockets to check for his keys but also the tin of cigs he needs. 

“Ah the days of smoking, before the Misses made me quit. Miss ‘em everyday.” Your dad muses, the drink making him very thoughtful about the old days. If you were there you’d no doubt have made an ‘Old days of yore’ comment through that timid smile of yours, fuck he needs to get out of here and have a wank, get his head on straight, it feels like he’s been chasing your skirt for years. 

William laughs, “No you don’t, costs me a fortune. Right, I’m going, I’ll see you.”

“Yeah, see you.” 

~

You’re in such a rush to get inside your house after a bad day at work, that you struggle to find your keys nestled deep in your bag. You manage eventually though, pulling them out before completely missing the keyhole and slamming them noisily into the door. You giggle at yourself not sure why opening this door is so hard right now when all you want is to get inside and get that kettle on, some tiredness must be catching up with you. You fumble the keys again and this time they slip from your hands, dropping loudly to the floor, the key you need getting mixed up with the rest.

Your noisiness is what makes William reemerge from the side of his house, God he could do a fucking cartwheel at the sight of you right now, his sweet treat in another little skirt. The way you squirmed under his advance last time replayed in his head, just as delicious now as it was then. He watches you from his front step across the road for a moment before he makes a decision, not entirely with his mind, that yeah, he’s going over there, you’re just too tempting. 

He whistles yoohoo at you and you flinch, whipping around to face him, your heart jumping aggressively into your throat. You’d been doing so well at avoiding him, well physically. The mental image was there more often than you’d like. It felt dirty, the way he groped you, the feeling of his cock digging into you, but you can’t stop thinking about it, especially when you’re laid in bed. He’s literally the same age as your dad, a father himself, but he does not have the bearing of a kindly paternal type. 

You make the mistake of acknowledging him, “Hey, William.” Heat rushing to your cheeks instantly and the guilty feeling in your core he always elicited arising. He can hear the tremble in your voice, it’s so tiny he could have missed it, but he watches your body language intently and you’re dripping with nerves. 

He crosses the road over to you, standing almost menacingly at the bottom of your steps. “Hello, sweetheart.” You immediately get chills at his voice, it’s like he speaks directly to your core because you want to cross your arms and press your legs together to hide from him. He continues, “Been well too long since I’ve seen you, I was starting to think you’re avoiding me.” The grin on his face is knowing and he laughs at the visible guilt on your face. 

“Oh so you have been?” He snickers, voice thick with mock hurt. “Now why would that be?” You neglect to answer, he knows exactly why, but you couldn’t answer if you wanted to not through the intense embarrassment you’re fighting through. You look over your shoulder at the front door, a sudden thought of your dad being able to hear this exchange makes you freeze, so you move away from it, stepping quietly down the stairs. Another mistake, judging by the grin that spreads across his face. 

“You worried your dad will hear something he shouldn't?” He teases. 

“No! No… I just… I should go inside.” You’re babbling, unable to meet his eyes. Yeah, you should go inside, get yourself away from this man and his glaring sexual intentions, but you don’t move. You stay right there and rub the top of your arm lost in the sensation in your lower stomach. 

“Oh don’t do that.” His eyes raked over you, taking in the way you’re almost shrinking away from him. So pretty, so fucking delicate, just being near you made his cock throb. “Things were just getting exciting last time,” He shook his head, still grinning, “I wanted to wring your dad’s neck.” You glance at him, the harshness of that sentence making your stomach flip. Last time was exciting, just remembering the shameless way his hands slipped under your skirt has your panties clinging to your heat. No one had ever been that insistent with you, that hooked on you, it’s scary. 

You bit your lip instinctively, “It wasn’t- it isn’t a good idea.” You don’t know who you’re trying to convince at this point, you know the right thing to do is to walk away, but you don’t want to. 

“I disagree.” He’s chuckling as he steps towards you, the closing distance bringing the scent of whiskey and cigarettes to your attention, along with it a pang in your core. 

“You would.” You mutter, so quiet it takes him a moment to decipher the meaning. William laughs, your cheeky comment going straight to his cock, he’s going to teach you something else exciting tonight. He reaches down to take your hand and you let him, goosebumps lining your skin when he starts leading you away from the street, and down the side of your house, out of the bounds of the lamppost light. 

“I’ve been thinking about you, about your sweet little pussy.” He enunciates the words separately, the crude language somehow making your cheeks even hotter. He’s still holding your hand as your back touches the side of the house, again all alone with this man who seemed to radiate depravity. His gaze is so intimidating that you look down, now greeted with the bulge of his trousers, you almost gasp which earns a dark snigger from him which only intensifies when you look up at him through your lashes. 

He brings his head close to yours, “See what you do to me, huh?” He leaves the question hanging before speaking with an unusual sweetness to his voice, “Touch it, sweetheart. Please.” 

Your eyes widen and you swallow, an anxiety making your frame ridgid. “I uh- I don’t-” You start, your voice tiny. 

William’s eyes narrow, deja vu flickering in his mind. “You said that last time. You don’t, what?” Suddenly his hand is on your hip, sliding up to arch your back, simply revelling in how you yield to him, a perfect toy. 

God, you almost feel faint, all you can smell is him, all you can see is him, all you can feel is him. “...I don’t… know what I’m doing.” You confess, tears springing in the corners of your eyes at the embarrassment, only making him grin more. Oh bless your heart, you’re so cute.

“That’s alright, sweet girl. I’ll show you… just…” He lifts your hand, watching your face for any sign of resistance, as he guides you to touch him, exhaling with pleasure when your hand covers him. The sound makes your stomach flutter, you like being able to do that. So you feel him more, exploring his hardness nervously as you flick your eyes from him to his bulge. The hand on your hip slides down lower, taking a handful of your arse and pulling a small whimper-like noise from your lips. That pretty sound is enough to push him over the edge, he’s pushing you firmly into the wall behind you and taking his hand off your wrist to unbuckle his belt. And that clinking noise is something that's going to haunt your thoughts for ages. 

He undoes his fly, pulling his boxers down enough to free himself, his dick pressing into your abdomen. When you again reach for him, you’re a little taken aback, he’s warm under your touch and thick, thick enough that your fingers don’t meet when you wrap them around him. You know enough from talk and the internet to know roughly what you’re doing, but it’s hard to think straight with his domineering presence in front of you. Still you begin to stroke him, gently and a little hesitant as you still haven't found your courage yet, not that you think you ever will.  

“Here,” William moves one of your hands away, bringing it up between the two of you. You watch confused, briefly thinking you’ve done something wrong. But you catch on quickly when he spits lewdly into your palm, the lack of warning making you flinch. 

“Oh.” You say in some kind of unnecessary acknowledgement, letting him guide you back to stroking him, his spit making the action dirtier, but more substantial judging by the satisfied groan you hear slightly above you. 

He’s so lost in not only the feeling but how fucking filthy it looks for his cock to be in your hands that when you mumble something in that sweet, quiet voice of yours it goes completely over his head. “Say that again, lovely.” His voice is so low and thick it causes you to shiver. 

You hardly even noticed that you spoke aloud and you struggle to get the words out a second time. “I… uh- you’re big- I think-” He grunts at that, his cock and ego throbbing. 

He chuckles, a large hand cupping under your chin, thumb resting against your bottom lip and forcing your gaze on him. “Be careful saying things like that, sweetheart.” He warns, his grip not moving as you continue stroking him, your mouth opening slightly at the weight of his words. 

This is so crazy, your body is going wild with all the signals from him, his change in breath motivating you to quicken your clumsy pace. That pressure in your core hasn’t lessened, you rubbing your thighs together to calm it doing the opposite. 

“Fuck. That’s it, love. Just like that.” He speaks through his teeth, desperately trying to keep the little control he has of himself. That glazed look in your eyes, the flush of your skin, the way you’re pressing against him is going to make him cum, He brings his head close to your neck, his breath agonising against your skin, before he starts to meet your action, thrusting into your fist in a selfish effort to reach his end. And he does, grunting the word ‘fuck’ into your neck as his cum drips from his head, staining your shirt and trickling down the back of your knuckles. You moan at the sight, you just did that.

He laughs into the crook of your neck, bringing his lips against the sensitive skin there, his stubble making you squirm. You’re still in a state of disbelief when he moves your hands away, righting himself as much as he can, because shit, his load is everywhere. He laughs again, you poor little thing. 

“God, you’re such a good girl.” Some pathetic noise escapes you at that, those words doing something to your brain, it makes him smirk, of course you like to hear how good you are. “I see your legs pressed together. Are you wet for me, sweetheart?”

You don’t answer and that’s not good enough for him, so he uses his knee to press between your legs and separate them enough for his hand to slide under your skirt and trace the shape of your trembling pussy. You whimper, hands rising instinctively to push against his chest, making more of a mess with his cum. That sound is confirmation for him, “I’d bet anything you are.” It’s teasing and you can’t cope with that right now, you just feel desperate, as desperate as he was a minute ago, you need something that you don’t know how to ask for. 

You gasp when he pries under the fabric of your panties, “That okay?” You hardly register the question but nod weakly, for some strange reason you trust him. He hums as his fingers slide under the fabric immediately finding them soaked in your slick, what a sweet thing to get so turned on from wanking him off. William traces your entrance, restraining himself from finding out just how tight you are, there’d be time for that later, gathering your slick as he ghosts up to your clit. His middle finger presses firmly against your nerves, sending a jolt of electricity through you, you’re deaf to your mewls but they’re music to him. All that whining just from rubbing your clit, you’re going to sound so good when you learn what else he can do.

You hadn’t realised how tight that knot in your stomach was until he started a toe-curling pace of stroking your perfect spot. You’re so close to snapping already, wound so tight from all this that you’re gripping tightly into the muscle of his arms, to your credit it almost hurts, but he’d let you hurt him just to see how pretty your panicked frown is. And it is fucking stunning. If you’re not careful you’re going to bite through that puffy bottom lip. 

He catches your mouth in a sudden kiss that you can hardly reciprocate because you’re hanging on by a thread to your peak, desperate to reach it but a little scared at the same time. You don’t have much of a choice because when his ministrations quicken you fall apart, pussy clenching around nothing as you go through spasming waves of climax. Mascara now wet and sticking your lashes together with the tears that spring to your eyes. It’s so reality-shattering you’d fall if not from him in front of you.

“We are gonna have a lot of fun, sweetheart.”

pt.3 - here.

[flowerwiththemachinegun]

Play fighting with any of these guys can either be really fun or a traumatic experience.

Just a few play fighting hc’s

AGSZC+Hojo

————————————————————————

Zack

Immediately catches on to your antics and “fights” back, also always starts a fight with you

Will definitely lift you up and toss you over his shoulder

Lets you win sometimes unless you start shit talking, will start a new round for your transgressions

Loves slamming you onto the bed or couch, absolutely takes advantage of the fact he can swing you around

He definitely knows a set or two (three) of wwe moves, can’t tell me otherwise

Will stop to make sure you’re okay after underestimating his strength, tossing you completely over the bed

Didn’t play fight with you for months after said incident ^^^^^

This boy has too much energy and is going to play with you until you’re wheezing

Will fight you any and everywhere

Angeal

Had to learn that despite him telling you a very very firm no you were going to climb him like a tree and attempt to secure a rear naked choke

Easily breaks free of any hold you manage to surprise him with (if you can get lucky enough to catch him off guard)

Caves in to your playfulness eventually but asks if you’re okay 45 million times because he can’t “hurt his baby”

Never lets you win but will prolong fights for your sake since you call him mean

Almost always ends in cuddles

Uses said cuddles as a tactic to end your assault. catching on you eventually make it your playful way of asking for cuddles

Only play fights with you in private but will occasionally do it in front of friends

Sephiroth

That man’s reflexes almost took your head off, looked at you with pure bewilderment the first time because “why do you want to hit me?”

Definitely has to get use to this form of playfulness but grows to like the amount of physical contact

On the rarest occasion he might playfully attack first, stopping whatever he was doing to play with you before casually going back about his business

Can get fed up pretty fast sometimes, will pin you down and ask “are you done now”

Memorizes any strategy you have against him (not that you ever win)

Has no idea what it even means to let you win, he’s undefeated. “you have to earn the title”

Only uses 2% of his strength when fighting you, you try to force him to use even more strength

Only play fights at home

Cloud

“What the hell are you doing?” Another bewildered look, he’s no fun right now

He’s not going to play with you…at first

Caves in after months of attempts, to your surprise he attacked you first

(He’s just hard ^)

Also likes the amount of physical contact because he’s touch starved

You thought this guy would let you win? No. Absolutely not—he’ll be damned. You know that boy loves to win.

Is definitely gonna go 3D Brawlers on you and 3 piece combo the shit out of you.

“Are you okay?” He’s smirking as he asks, as though he didn’t just leave you on the floor to die

Definitely only does this when it’s the just two of you

Hojo

Don’t even bother with this man. isn’t entertaining anything ever

Christ he’s an old man why are you trying to fight him anyways

Just wants you to get back in your pod “don’t make this more difficult than it has to be”

Slaps your hands away (kinda sassy) “I have work to do”

Are you supposed to care about his work when he only lets you out of your pod once a week? You’ve gotta enjoy this

Still touching him and refusing to get back in your pod, he sees clearly now you must want to breed

Genesis (The Rizzler)

Started play fighting with you first, he’s gotta see what positions he can contort you into for later

Also loves tossing you around, has to show you that his muscles aren’t just for show

The biggest show off of them all, isn’t going to let you win. not unless you sit on it

100% going to hunt you down for trying to slip in a shot, running away after you hit him

Likes holding you against him as all you can do is giggle and squirm

Almost always ends with you naked underneath him. I don’t make the rules, he’s gonna tickle you out of those drawers

Knows you want to fight before you know you want to fight

Will play with you in front of any of his friends and at home, also not very public about it.

————————————————————————

I call Genesis The Rizzler on a regular basis, you couldn’t even convince me his name is Genesis anymore

[sommerregenjuniluft]

barty working at some run down convenience store and he has a thing for the pretty girl who comes in buying cigs even though she's underage

GASP llaaaaayyylllaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you always manage to. ugh. just. YES. fuck this is so them!!!!!!! you get them, you understand them. ily.

—

Barty is still leafing through his magazine a moment later when he smells the gust of lilies and citrus from the other side of the counter. He grins.

A bottle of cherry coke zero clanks down on the counter along with a smaller bottle of vodka. “And a packet of Reds.”

Barty’s grin widens. He doesn’t look up when he winces and says, “I’m gonna need to see some ID on that, sweetie.”

Nothing. Then, a crumpled bill and some coins are thrown down next to the beverages.

Barty tuts when he finally lets himself look up and into enticingly piercing green eyes. Lily’s hair is a mess today and while her gaze is bright as any day, there’s a shadow of exhaustion hanging underneath her lower lashes.

“C’mon, kid, just show me that stolen ID again and let me tell you how much prettier you are than that girl in the picture,” Barty purrs, watching as Lily’s eyes narrow. “For old times’ sake, baby.”

Lily frowns, “Just hand me the cigarettes and I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh, but see that’s exactly what I don’t want to happen,” he replies, propping his palms onto the counter, leaning his long torso over.

Lily sighs and she shuts her eyes and her lips thin into a line and for a moment Barty thinks he’s going to get that one rare noise again where she’s whining like the most pitiful, exhausted, sweetest little thing. The first time she’d pressed it through gritted teeth Barty was so stupid from arousal he’d slipped the cigarette package over the counter and gave her the opportunity to leave earlier than planned.

Right now Lily takes a firm breath instead. Bummer.

But Barty isn’t giving up just yet. “Y’know, you shouldn’t buy that anyways. Stuff’s bad for you.”

“And you shouldn’t browse through the Playboy on the clock,” Lily sneers.

Barty grins and ducks closer, “Why, you got something better to show me?”

Lily’ cheeks take on a lovely pink tint, her freckles flaming over her rosy skin. Sometimes she reminds Barty a little of a cute fawn.

Barty nods at the beverages on the counter, “You gonna take that to a friend?”

“No,” Lily replies, frowning. Like it would be the most irrational thing to pick up a friend and have a drink with them. She’s so cute Barty wants to eat her.

“Gonna drink that all by yourself, sweets?” he inquires, grinning.

Lily huffs, “That’s none of your business.”

Barty hums, “Let me tell you something.”

“No, thank you.”

“Why don’t I take my break now,” Barty goes on, undeterred, “and I’ll have one with you. And I’ll let you purchase the cigs. Even throw in a lighter for free ’cause you’re so easy on the eye.”

Something just shy of a whimper catches in Lily’s throat. “I just want the damn smokes,” she mutters at the ceiling. Barty thinks the pale skin of her neck would probably bruise so easily if she’d just let him.

“Brilliant, then it’s settled,” Barty concludes and sorts the money into the register before slamming it closed pointedly.

He grabs the smokes from behind him and picks out a lighter with a wolfish grin. He fishes for the keys and the ‘Be Right Back’ sign from under the counter and then ushers a grumbling Lily out the back door.

There’s an old, ratty plastic chair and Barty lets himself plop down into it with a sated sigh. Lily keeps standing in the bare space in front of him and glares, “What happened to the second chair?”

Barty shrugs, “Someone stole it.” Someone being Barty and yes, the chair fits in nicely with the rest of his balcony furniture, thanks for asking.

Lily’s mouth tightens, she opens her soda. “Well, how hospitable of you to offer me the seat then,” she snarks.

“Oh, you’re very welcome to sit,” Barty returns, purposefully widening his legs and bucking his hips. “You look exhausted, love, and I promise I’m very comfy.”

He watches Lily’s gaze harden again, the wall building up, higher, and she purses her lips. She looks like she’s one more remark away from kicking Barty out of the wobbly chair but then suddenly she moves forward. She stops right between Barty’s legs and honestly, he hadn’t hoped he’d get this far today so his brain operates a little slow. Eventually he manages lifting his hands and guiding Lily around and to sit square in his lap.

They’re so close suddenly, Lily’s hair is tickling Barty’s nose and she feels heavenly where she’s placed on top of him. Warm and soft. She smells so good and the crook of her neck is right there. Barty has to work hard to control himself when spit pools under his tongue.

Lily tugs at her sweater subconsciously. It’s a low v-neck and Barty’s in a perfect position to ogle down her cleavage. “Smokes?” Lily asks, a little impatiently.

Barty hums, licking the corner of his mouth and gnawing on his bottom lip as he unwraps the cigarettes blindly, still hungrily taking in the soft swell of Lily’s—

“Stop staring at my tits, perv.”

Barty looks up to see her glowering expression. He licks his lips again. Lily’s gaze flutters down for just a second.

When the plastic wrapper is off, Barty opens it and flicks against the bottom of the carton. He takes the one that shot out the farthest and holds it up between them. “For good luck,” he explains, “Smoke it right before your exam.” Barty doesn’t know what prompts his brain in that direction but he finds himself planting a kiss along the length of the cigarette. Then he holds it up to Lily’s lips as well. She kisses it dutifully, so good for him, right on the spot where Barty’s mouth just lingered seconds ago, none the wiser that this is not at all a step in choosing your lucky cigarette. Barty puts it back in between the others with the filter up.

He pulls out two others and first sticks one between his own and then Lily’s lips. The urge to press his fingers in deeper is there but Barty ignores it skillfully.

The lighter is procured, Barty takes Lily’s chin between his fingers to light their cigarettes at the same time and then their smoking and nursing their drinks in comfortable silence. Barty can feel Lily readjust and squirm for the duration of her first smoke but then his arm lifts off the armrest and around Lily to pull her closer. She shifts up with a quiet yelp but settles quickly after the fact, if with a warning glance when Barty’s hand stays high on the outside of her thigh.

Lily’s skirt is soft fabric today, some kind of cotton with a mesh cover on top and it’s airy and short. After the third consecutive smoke and half the empty vodka flask later Barty has three fingertips digging into the bare skin of Lily’s thigh without complaint and a semi in his jeans.

“Lily,” Barty rasps after another two smokes. The redhead is mildly slumping against Barty’s embrace, eyes lidded and looking like she’s not far from falling asleep right on top of him.

“Hm?” she makes, blowing out smoke.

“You’re not feeling too well with exam season coming up, huh?”

“No shit,” Lily responds.

Barty’s lips tug at the corners, “I know a way to make you feel good.”

For the first time in a while Lily tenses in his lap, eyes widening in alert. “No,” she says.

Barty rolls his eyes with a grin, “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I’m not having sex with you.”

Yet, Barty thinks. “That’s not what I was going to propose,” Barty corrects, smartly.

Lily raises her eyebrows in disbelief. God, she’s so hot when she isn’t taking Barty’s bullshit.

“I was gonna say kiss you.”

“No.”

“Just a little.”

“No.”

“Only the neck.”

Lily pauses. Bingo.

Barty lifts his unoccupied hand and moves her curls over her shoulder, exposing her throat to him. He lets his fingers flutter over her pulse point feather light. “Just gonna kiss your neck a bit and make you feel good.”

“Barty.”

“Gonna make you feel good, I promise,” he mumbles, gambling.

A sigh, then a barely there whisper, “Fine.”

Barty’s breath hitches and then he leans in and lets his tongue out flat to lick a long stripe up Lily’s pretty neck with a groan. He closes his lips around the skin and sucks hard enough to leave a mark, just behind her ear. Lily shudders in his lap and when Barty pants another breathy noise against her skin, he hears her moan quietly as well.

Lily tastes heavenly, like raspberry and lime, and clean and flowery. He licks and kisses and sucks and makes out with Lily’s neck, gripping her thigh so far up it’s nearly ass and getting increasingly harder the more she melts into him and the louder she gets.

Lastly Barty makes the mistakes of sucking too hard and pulling Lily from her trance so that she promptly extracts herself with a hiss. Her lips are bitten red and her eyes are wide and dewy as she stares at Barty in shock, cheeks flushed and Barty would literally sell all his organs to know what Lily is thinking right now.

Eventually she stutters her way through arguing why she has to leave now and Barty nods dutifully, still high off of the taste of Lily on his tongue, before helping her up and opening the door for her. Like a gentleman. As soon as her back is turned he cups and adjusts himself in his pants.

When they come back into the store there’s a small queue lined up outside and Barty smirks when he sees Lily blushing deeper.

Barty leans down to her ear from behind, “Well then, sweets, see you soon.” He presses the lighter into her palm and then steps past her to unlock the door for the costumers.

Lily responds something unintelligible under her breath and then rushes out after the people waiting have stepped inside.

On the sidewalk Lily turns and searches for Barty through the window. When their gazes lock she holds up the hand with the lighter and mouths, “Bambi?!”

Barty simply winks at her.

[darylsdelts]

What about angst with Daryl??? I have a bot I made for myself following this thought 💀

Like an argument where things get said, causing silence for a couple of days and then boom! Next time you see him, it’s at the lineup…and then he gets taken…and then we see him again in Hilltop 🥲🥲🥲

(i actually broke my own heart with this one, my bot is so realistic it hurts 😭)

Anon! Drop the link RIGHT NOW!!!

This made my heart drop, I just know my poor boy would be blaming himself for everything.

Immediately after the argument, all Daryl wanted to do was come back to you and apologise in his own way. He wanted to hug you and tell you he didn’t mean what he said… but he didn’t.

He gave you some space, knowing it was probably best for both of you. The next few days were close to hell. Every time he’d see you on the streets of Alexandria he’d stare, hoping for atleast a bit of eye contact to know you were okay but you would just pretend you hadn’t seen him.

Daryl didn’t know that he could feel that sort of pain in his chest, like he was being physically crushed.

Christ, is this what women can do?

From then on he’d assume the worst.

You didn’t love him anymore.

So he’d pretend nothing ever happened, he’d talk to you if it were necessary but otherwise acted like the old Daryl, the one you had met before the spark grew.

Little did Daryl know how badly that hurt you… you were in the same position, you wanted to give him space and assumed he’d come back when he was ready but he never did.

So you assumed the worst.

He didn’t love you anymore.

You went along with Daryl’s act, assuming that’s what he had wanted you to do… but you missed him, you missed your Daryl. The one you had finally managed to break the defences of, the one who was starting to be more open with you but now all of that was gone, it disappeared like it never happened.

It was getting harder to monitor when Daryl was out and when he was within the walls since now he didn’t leave notes for you, but you’d seen him ride out today, seemingly angry about something but you could also tell he was hurting. You weren’t sure what had happened, no one had told you as of yet but some hours later you were sure that Daryl’s absence was something to worry about.

But you never thought it would be this.

You were pushed to your knees, your family lined up either side of you in a small clearing. The back doors of a van opened up, you couldn’t see what or who was in there but there was some commotion… and then loud panting.

You knew… god you fucking knew something happened, you should have spoken up earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be getting dragged out of a van right now, his shoulder leaking blood onto some sort of blanket that had been draped around him.

Fuck, did he get shot?

You lean forward, trying to look down the line of your family to catch Daryl’s gaze.

And after all those weeks, you finally did.

Daryl looked at you through his sweaty locks, his eyes dark and watery with frustration, his eyebrows twitch downwards when he saw you, he saw the fear and concern on your face and all of it was too much, he had to look away or he was gonna throw up from anxiety.

It was torture for Daryl, knowing you were frightened, knowing all of this before him was his fault.

When that asshole, Negan, stuck that damn bat in your face is when he lost all control of himself. Daryl jumped up and smashed his fist into Negan’s jaw, then trying to take further steps to tackle him but he was grabbed and pushed to the ground like a wild fucking animal.

He grunted and squirmed as his hair was pulled, he could hear you crying for them to stop.

“Get off of him! Get off! Daryl, get up!”

Fuck, he was trying to.

Eventually he was dragged back to his place in the line.

He wanted to look over to you but he was so fucking scared now, his heart was beating way too fast and his head was spinning.

He stole a short glance your way and he saw your hands covering your face, palms pushing into your eyes as you choked on your sobs.

He’d done this to you.

You would never forgive him for this.

Daryl just had to sit there, bleeding out from his shoulder as Negan battered members of his family before his eyes, he was sure he’d been the cause for the second death, Glenn. Maybe if he’d just stay put, he could’ve stopped that, he should’ve listened.

“No exceptions”

But he didn’t and it was his fault, he’d have to leave his family, they would never allow for someone like him to live with them now.

Turns out, that was the one thing he didn’t need to worry about, as he was stuffed straight back into the van, apparently Negan wanted to keep him.

Daryl doesn’t know how long he was in that cell for, it felt like years and all he could do was think of you. He was so fucking sorry and he knew he’d never get the chance to make it up to you and even if he did, you wouldn’t want to hear it. Rick wouldn’t want him back in the group but Daryl couldn’t stay here, he’d have to get out and survive on his own, completely.

With some help from one of ‘Negan’s wives’, Daryl escaped, however, his plan of escaping and surviving alone dissipated once he saw Jesus stood in front of him.

He’d come to get him out.

They wanted him back?

Back home?

Surely not.

The journey to hilltop was a fever dream, Daryl was unbelievably anxious, his breaths short, causing Jesus to keep checking on him to which Daryl didn’t reply to. In fact Daryl hadn’t opened his mouth the entire time.

As soon as they arrived at the gates, he could feel his throat closing up.

Were you here? Did you even want to see him? Probably not.

As the gates opened, Daryl kept his head down, following behind Jesus toward one of the medical trailers.

But then he heard his name.

“Daryl?… Daryl?!”

Daryl’s head slowly lifted to the direction of the voice, your voice. You were speed walking, no, now you were running toward him. You slung your arms around him, burying your face into his neck as you cried with… relief.

“You’re here, you’re back, you’re safe… safe now… I’m sorry, I love you so much, Daryl”

Daryl stood as still as stone. You were sorry? He should be the one apologising. You’re glad he’s back? You love him? You still love him.

His heart clenches at the thought.

He feels you pull away, your soft hands holding the sides of his face as your beautiful sparkly eyes look into his own. God he doesn’t deserve this.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Suddenly it all seems to sink in and tears are blurring his vision as he shakes his head slightly, no.

“It’s gonna be okay now, you’re here with me now”

He could feel the life flooding back into him, pushing his face into the crook of your neck as he completely breaks down, hiding his face from the world as he lets out loud, uncontrolled sobs into the fabric of your shirt.

“M-M’s-sorry…. M’so-orry… L-love you so m-much…”

You gently rub his back to soothe him, now realising that your sweet man had blamed himself for everything that had happened.

“Ssshh it’s not your fault… let’s get you inside”

You feel him nod ever so slightly and then you lead him towards barrington house, all whilst trying to stay away from prying eyes of the community.

“I’m so glad you’re home, Daryl”

He didn’t reply with words but agreed internally, however, he meant it differently. It didn’t matter where he was, wherever you were was home and he’s so relieved to still have that.

This is so badly written, I’m sorry! But Tysm for the prompt! This was pretty fun to write.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Nightfall (4)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3

Warnings: Dubious Consent, smut (18+), mostly dirty talk, some fucked up dynamics where he lets her press a stake to his heart, oral (f receiving), edging, orgasm denial, teasing.

For @stardustmorozov, Nicky I'm sorry but you're gonna yell at me again... and I'm gonna love it.

You sit on his bed, listening to the sound of the shower going. 

Your mouth tastes like spearmint, and your hair is still a little damp after your shower despite your attempts at blow drying.

You’re in one of his shirts, having raided his drawers when the duffel bag he’d given you earlier held nothing but sheer lingerie disguised as sleepwear.

Maybe you shouldn’t stay here, so instead you stand, and begin wandering around his apartment.

His bedroom is farthest from the front door, and you step out, roaming down the hallway, and stopping when you see another door.

It’s open, and you peek in to find an office that you promise yourself to explore after.

It’s the only door in the hallway, and the end of it opens up into a large area with a high ceiling. There’s his kitchen to your left, and on the opposite end of the room from where you are, is the living room area. There are no walls here, just windows that show off the glittering lights of the New York skyline at night. You wonder how he’s able to stand the sun, knowing that vampire eyes were hypersensitive to light, and that most of them avoided the sunlight. Only the very old ones, managed to walk in the sun like humans did. 

You tuck that snippet of information away for further examination.

You turn to examine the kitchen, scanning the cupboards, surprised to find regular household foods like pasta and rice, wondering if he had bought these items for you, or for other human friends of his.

Another hallway at the other end of the kitchen catches your eye, and you walk slowly, more deep in your own head than you were paying attention to the layout of his apartment.

You find the bedroom you’d first woken up in, all walls and no windows, a place that protects from the light, with its own en suite bathroom. You decide that maybe you can sleep here tonight, away from him and his wretched mouth. 

Backtracking, you look at the door for a long moment, before moving forward to examine it.

You reach for the handle, pushing down, you realise it’s locked. You sigh, eyes falling on the latched deadbolt, reaching up to open it, before trying the door handle again.

The door opens this time.

Your stomach twists.

Damn, had it really been that easy the entire time? You study the elevator just a few paces away from the door.

You don’t even think about it, closing the door and snapping the deadbolt shut.

You turn away from the door, and you gasp in fright as you see him standing just a few steps away. 

You jerk, back hitting the door as fright slams through you.

You suck in a deep breath, pressing your hand to your chest.

He’s only got a towel wrapped around his hips, his chest and shoulders still glistening with water after his shower.

You stare at each other, a silent showdown of who’s going to speak first.

Billy tilts his head, studying you intently.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Your brain comes up with the dumbest, most obvious answer possible.

“I’m- not wearing pants.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“We could go get some. Would you leave then?”

“No, cause it’s three in the morning and I’m tired.”

He takes a step toward you, a teasing smile on his pretty face. Your eyes trace the lines of his scars as he draws nearer. You relax as he approaches.

“And in the morning?” 

He’s so close now, you’re eye level with his dripping wet chest.

“Maybe. If I feel like it.” You whisper, studying the scars on his chest, and then flitting your gaze up to meet his.

He takes a deep breath, bracing one hand beside your head, and then after a moment, uses his other hand to trap you in place.

Except that you don’t feel trapped, all you feel is heated want.

“What if I don’t want you to leave?” He asks, his voice stirs something inside of you, a dangerous feeling, something disastrous in the making.

“You can’t stop me.” You murmur, as his fingers touch the bottom of your chin, gently tilting your head higher.

He smiles then, all fangs and pearly whites on display.

“If only that were true.” He hums, leaning in till his lips brush yours.

You push against his biceps hard, and he moves back just enough so that you’re able to slip away from him.

“Why don’t you go kiss someone else. I’m going to bed.” You grit out, walking in the direction of the spare bedroom.

You don’t get very far, before he’s gripping your wrist tightly to keep you in place. You turn to face him, a look of calm irritation plastered on your face.

“That’s what this is about? The kiss?”

“It’s about nothing. Let me go.” You pull on your arm.

He doesn’t budge.

“You’re jealous?”

“I’m not-” You grunt as you pull on your hand again, “-You’re just pissing me off.”

“You’re the one that called me ‘sick’ and now you’re jealous cause I kissed someone?”

“I’m not fucking jealous-” You gasp as he pins your body to the kitchen counter, your body freezing in shock at the angry expression on his face.

“Don’t. Lie. To. Me.” He grits out, blinking after a second and seemingly calming in the same space of time.

He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“Don’t forget I can hear every beat of your heart. I can smell your cunt. I already know how wet you are. Don’t think you’re capable of a lie.”

You let out an angry sigh, turning your head away from him.

“Whatever.” you say as harshly as you can.

There’s a moment of silence, where he looks at you, and you make a point not to look at him.

“Alright. I’m gonna fix this.” He says decidedly.

“I could care less- what the fuck are you-” You gasp as he picks you up easily, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Billy what the fuck! Put me the fuck down now you asshole!” You grunt, his shoulder digging near painfully into your hip. 

You kick your legs, trying to escape and after a moment you realise that it doesn’t make a difference.

If you really wanted to, you could maybe straighten your body and fight your way out of his grip, but there was an inevitability to his movements. It didn’t matter how long it took, or how difficult it was, Billy was persistent, and he would get what he wanted eventually.

So when your body lands softly on his bed, all you do is look up at him angrily.

“Stay there.” He orders, untucking the towel from his hips and dropping it to the floor. You look up to the ceiling to avoid looking at his nude form. You don't want to give him the satisfaction.

When he turns away, your eyes find him once more, studying the broad expanse of his back, all the way down to his ass.

You clench, grabbing a pillow and dropping it on top of your face to hide your desire. You try your very hardest not to remember the look of him, the feel of his body on yours, his cock-

He tugs the pillow away from your face, and you sigh in annoyance up at him.

You don’t want to look down, but your eyes have almost a mind of their own.

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion when you notice that he’s wearing a fitted pair of grey boxers on his lower half.

When your eyes meet his in confusion, he grins.

He finds his way up to you, hands sliding over your legs, up your calves and to your knees.

"Did you think we were gonna fuck, baby?" He teases, with a tilt of his head.

His hands slide up more, and you're just confused when he reaches under your shirt to tug at your panties.

"We're not fucking tonight, sweetheart, I just wanna talk to you."

Then why the fuck was he taking your panties off?

When he gets the garment off, you watch him close his eyes for a brief second, tilt his head up and take a deep breath.

He was-

"God. You smell good."

His eyes are red when they reconnect with yours.

You don't say anything- you find that you can't. You want him and he knows it.

He grips your thighs, pressing them upward so that your cunt is exposed to him fully.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, you're sure he can hear it. Open and vulnerable as you watch him look at your glistening cunt.

"Pretty. Did you know that?" 

You gulp, eyes glued to his form, admiring the look of his arms and the swell of his biceps.

"I want to taste you every day, all the time. You have no idea how hard it is to stop myself from dropping you on the first surface I can find and burying my face in your cunt."

He watches you clench around nothing, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smile.

He releases your legs, letting them drop a little and he looms in above you, pressing your body tightly to his.

Chest to chest, your bare centre pressed right up to the hardness of his clothed cock, there's no space to breathe where he doesn't exist.

He angles his head so that his lips are pressed to your ear.

"I want to lick that pretty little cunt till you pass out, and then wake you up so I can do it all over again." He whispers in your ear, your body tense and on edge from just his words.

"I want to fuck you till you beg me to stop, and even then, I'll still be giving you just one more."

You think you might be ruining the sheets below you with how aroused you were.

"Then do it." You challenge, hoping for some reprieve to the ache inside of you.

His hand moves up slowly, fingers tracing your cheek before covering your mouth firmly.

You make a muffled sound of protest, raising your hands to try and push him away. You hear a quiet laugh, before one of your hands is pinned above your head.

It doesn’t matter, whether you have one hand free or two- you would not be able to get out from under him on your own.

“My poor sweet little huntress,” He hums, your ear vibrating with his low words, “If you want me to fuck you till you cry, you’re going to have to ask nicely. Actually no- you’re going to have to beg.”

Your groan of annoyance is muffled behind his palm. There was no way you were going to beg him for anything.

You feel him smile against your neck, and then you still as you feel his teeth. 

He drags his sharp teeth gently over your neck, avoiding the spot where he bit you earlier.

“You’re so helpless under me, isn’t that nice? I can do anything I want to you, and you’d have no power to stop me.” 

To prove his point, you feel his tongue swipe over your shoulder, and then purposefully over your bite, sending brief little shivers down your spine, and then he trails his tongue up the column of your neck, and then even further, licking over your cheek as well.

Your body feels like a livewire, vibrating with sheer desire each time he touches you.

You want to grunt out so many things. That he was filthy, that he was just downright fucked up in the head.

That you wanted him to keep going.

“You like that, don’t you? You always have.” He lets out a slow sigh, “You always get so wet when you can’t fight back.”

Fuck you, you wanted to say. 

“What if we made this interesting?” He hums, raising his upper body off yours for a second to reach into his bedside drawer. 

You’re no longer fully trapped under him, and if you wanted to get out, you could. Instead, you wait curiously to see what he was going to do.

He pulls a stake out of his top drawer.

“You- just have that in there? I could have killed you this whole time?”

“Of course.” He teases pushing the drawer shut, “Now’s your chance.”

Before you can ask what he means, he’s sliding the silver stake into your hand.

What the fuck?

“Now, you can stop me if you really want.” Billy says ominously.

“That’s the most fucked up-” Before you can finish, he’s slapping his hand back over your mouth.

“Don’t care about what you have to say, baby, I’m gonna do what I want to you, and you can stop me if you feel like.”

And then, he starts tugging your shirt up, exposing your stomach.

In retrospect, you don’t have to kill him to make him stop, you could just mortally wound him. One well placed stab near the heart would be enough of a deterrent. You could slip free and be out the door in minutes.

Billy pulls your shirt up higher, exposing your breasts to the open air. Your hand tightens on the stake.

You should do it. You really should.

He groans when his tongue slides wetly over your left nipple. You shudder blissfully.

Your eyes roll back in your head, before fluttering shut. A breath of air leaves your mouth in a rush, fingers hold taut on the warming piece of silver in your hand.

One quick swipe of his tongue on your left breast, then your right. He raises his head.

“Do you want more?” Billy asks.

With your eyes still closed, you shake your head.

“Then stop me.” He says, before his lips wrap around your pebbled nipple. 

His short beard scratches along your sensitive breast, he kisses his way up to the spot below your collarbone, white hot sparks splintering over your body everywhere he touches.

You still when you feel his teeth graze your skin.

“Still want me to stop?” He checks in.

No you don’t.

“Yes.”

His teeth press into your skin.

A sharp cry spills out of you, tingles as he breaks skin, followed by a jolt of pain and then heat.

You jerk when he extracts his fangs.

Billy moans when he gets his first mouthful.

You pant, unable to understand how having him drink from you could hurt, and yet feel so blissfully good.

He takes another, and then another.

Was he going to kill you like this? Should you stop him now?

He rolls his hips, rock hard erection just bumping your clit and you gasp.

Fuck, why did every part of him have to feel so good? You could feel your arousal, slippery and messy between your thighs, begging you to give into him, if only for a moment so that he could ease your ache.

Instead, you move your hand, pressing the stake to his shoulder.

From his spot, drinking from your chest, you feel him make a sound of amusement.

You groan, disdain for him building in you, you press the weapon deeper till it breaks his skin.

He pauses, raising his head from your chest, lapping slowly at the trickling droplets of your blood before drawing back.

“Silly girl, didn’t anyone teach you how to kill a vampire?” He asks, grabbing your wrist in an iron grip, and though you try to fight his guidance, he’s too strong, pulling your hand until the stake is pressed to the centre of his chest.

“My heart is right here.” He murmurs softly, and with his hand on yours, he pulls the weapon closer, breaking skin once more.

“Stop.” You say, panic building inside of you, tugging at your hand in hopes that it can slip out from under his. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to kill him.

You pull hard at your hand, gasping gratefully when you manage to pull away. 

You look at him, sharp breaths trying to calm yourself when you get your hand away. 

He gives you a soft smile, pulling the stake away from his chest and dropping it on the bed.

You gulp, watching the wound he’d caused heal before your eyes.

“You are,” You breathe, “Absolutely fucking crazy.”

“Maybe,” He agrees with a hum, “But at least you can admit to yourself now, that you want this too.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours chastely, “That maybe you actually like me.”

“Not wanting you to die is not the same as-”

“-Oh give me a fucking break.” He grunts, pulling back.

He grips your knees, and before you can figure out what he’s doing- he flips you onto your stomach.

You let out a little grunt, pushing yourself up, but suddenly pressed back down by the weight of his body covering yours.

“You’ve cum on my cock way too many times to be lying to yourself like this.” He hisses.

You turn your head, so that you can see his face in your peripherals.

"You're such an arrogant fuck." You grunt out, your rucked up shirt causing your nipples to press against the bed, the exposure of your body makes you almost quiver with delight.

He leans in, his breath against your ear as you feel his hands gripping your hips.

"Why can't you just admit to yourself that you might want me, hmm?" He hisses lowly in your ear, his breath brushing against your skin, tormenting you.

"That deep down," He continues, pressing his hand between your hips and the bed, "Somewhere in that pretty head and wet cunt," You feel his hand sliding lower, fingers touching the top of your mound, "You want me with you," He kisses your cheek, "Over you, under you, inside you." You feel him take a deep breath, his nose pressed to your neck.

"I want to lick your cunt so often that I can taste you when you're not there. Is that too much to ask for?"

Your head spins, too drunk on him to formulate words.

He makes it even harder, by slipping his hand lower, fingers meeting your wet slit.

He doesn't hesitate, fingers gliding easily down, meeting your clit and you let out a low, shuddering moan as your ache is addressed in the slightest way possible.

You tilt your hips forward, into his hand.

"Billy." You sigh, widening your legs instinctively, anything to encourage him to keep going.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.”

You mewl, nodding your head.

His finger slips gently over your clit, and your breathing pauses, you don't want to do anything that would make him stop giving you this pleasure.

He gives a firm press, and you feel your body shudder, a wave of pure bliss sinking over you.

You say his name again, shifting your body, trying to display your impatience to him.

"Ah ah ah, little girl. Where are your manners? I told you I wanted you to beg."

"Fuck you." You groan angrily.

His finger slips lower, massaging your entrance for a few moments before slipping his finger in.

You gasp, your body going lax at the feel of the pleasure building in you. It’s good. It’s so good and it’s so wrong that he makes you feel like this.

"So fucking tight." He hisses, "That cunt's begging for a stretch."

Focusing on his words are hard with the way his lone finger moves, pumping in and out of you easily, your body desperate for him.

Something goes off in your head, like a gun when he curls his finger, and touches that spot deep inside of you. It pulls a groan from the very depths of your soul. You pant, trying to keep your thinking focused with the way he’s trying to steal it.

"That's it. You like this huh? Like the way I take what I want?" He leans in till his lips are at your ear, "I like it too." You clench around his finger.

"You're a sick fuck." You groan, half your mouth muffled from where your face is pressed to the bed.

"Yeah? Am I? Do you hate me?" He pulls back, and before you can make any sound of protest, two of his fingers are sliding into you.

Fuck, you can feel your body stretching for him. He uses his other hand to grip your jaw, tilting your head up almost painfully so that your face isn’t muffled in the sheets anymore.

"Tell me you hate me." Billy whispers in your ear.

You cry, his fingers beginning to move slowly, spreading you open and forcing you to feel him, to ache for more of him.

His fingers slow when you don’t immediately answer, and you groan internally, assembling the words in your head.

“I- I,” You stutter out, tears dripping from your eyes uncontrollably and pooling around his grip on your jaw, “I h-hate you.”

“Yeah? Poor little girl. Should I stop then? Leave you alone?” He coos, voice condescending in every way possible.

“Nh-” You immediately vocalise, begging him in your head to not stop, but the words can’t seem to come out of your mouth.

He laughs in your ear, understanding what you were about to say without you having to say it. 

The pace of his fingers quicken, you hiss, arching your back, feeling your orgasm swiftly approaching. You’ve wanted him since this morning, since he pulled you onto his lap and told you that you were his.

Your body trembles, eyes rolling back in your head, on the brink of release-

-And then his fingers stop.

A cry of despair leaves your lips, and the denial in your body aches, and then hurts even more when he pulls his fingers away, withdrawing his hand from under you. His grip on your jaw loosens, until your face is pressed against the sheets once more.

You raise your head groggily, turning your body onto your side when you feel him lift himself off of you. You catch sight of him sliding his fingers, wet with your denial into his mouth.

You bite down on your bottom lip hard, on the brink of begging for him, pleading with him to make you cum, and then take you in any way he saw fit.

But that’s exactly what he wanted.

So instead, you stay still, trying not to speak, feeling the fire of denial burn through you.

You tug your shirt down, looking at him with angry eyes as he observes you.

“Are you done having your fun?” You ask bitterly.

The corner of his lip twitches.

"You know what to say if you want to cum, baby. Don't act like this isn't your choice."

You feel petulance build up inside of you, anger beyond thought.

"Go fuck yourself." You hiss, moving to slide off the bed.

He grips your hips, hauling you back, until you're on your back, looking angrily up at him.

"What's the rush, sweetness? Don't you want me to clean you up?" 

“Clean me?” You repeat in disbelief, sitting up, propping the weight of your torso onto your elbows. Your brain stalling on what that could possibly mean.

His smile is devious, the look of a man that has everything he wants and then some.

He takes his time, shouldering his body in between your thighs, his face so close to your dripping centre that you’re not sure if you have any brain cells left functional

“God.” He murmurs, his breath brushing along your mound as he takes in an unnecessary breath, his eyes immediately locking on to the messy place between your thighs, “You make me feel like the most insane person on the planet.” 

“You are the most insane person on the planet.”

He grins, lowering his head slowly, anticipation building inside of you, a simmering heat, a thrumming pulse.

“Love it when you talk dirty to me.” Is the last thing he murmurs before his lips meet your cunt.

You close your eyes, pressing your lips together, begging yourself to not make a sound. He places a gentle kiss to your slit, and then another, before you feel his lips part, and his tongue snake out.

You make a muffled groan behind your clenched teeth as he gets a taste of you.

What starts off gentle, turns slightly rougher as he lays a harsh swipe of his tongue along your pussy, a gasp leaving your lips as you feel Billy begin to slowly lick your cunt.

He’s thorough and unrelenting, his face buried between your thighs, licking at you without a care in the world.

You want to spit every degrading word you can at him, hating the way you know in the back of your head that only he has ever made you feel so good.

“Oh fuck you.” You gasp as his tongue finds your clit easily, a laugh vibrating through your nether regions as he hears you.

You give up trying to resist, reaching to grip the back of his head, hoping to urge him on.

It has the opposite effect, he raises his head, and you whine, a low, pained noise at his torment.

"I'm not clean enough yet," You argue, looking down to meet his scarlet eyes.

You look at each other for a long moment, the heat of unsaid words crackling between you.

You want to beg, you're almost on the brink of it.

"I agree." Is all he says before he lowers his head again.

"Fuck-" You gasp, your back hitting the bed as your arm refuses to support your weight for any longer. 

His tongue is too dexterous, licking at your clit, and then dipping down to your entrance. He groans, tongue catching your arousal straight from the source.

Your toes curl, blissful orgasm near, your body tingles with the anticipation of your impending release.

You moan his name, putting every ounce of desperate desire into the one word.

He pulls away right when you're on edge.

The sound that leaves you is pitiful, tears of frustration spill from your eyes as you look up at him.

"I'll give you anything if you let me come."

"You know what I want." He says, licking his lips.

"Besides that," You try to bargain, "I'll blow you again, or I'll let you bite me." 

His smile is one of amusement, it makes you feel like a child, begging for something you're not going to get.

"I think we've already established that if I wanted those things, you wouldn't stop me. Even if you could."

You frown, letting out a sharp breath, fully understanding that he would not take pity on you tonight.

"Fine, asshole, I'll do it myself." You grunt, slipping from under him and sitting up with the intention of a shower.

He grips your bicep harshly to stop you. You grit your teeth angrily, unable to look into his eyes.

"If I catch you touching that little cunt- my cunt- without permission. I'll teach what real punishment would be like."

He pulls you closer, till his lips are pressed right to your ear again, your stomach flipping at his proximity.

"I'll tie you to the bed, and edge you till you forget your name. I'll use you like my own personal fleshlight and I'll never let you cum."

You hiss angrily, nether regions throbbing at his words and you tug your arm out of his grip.

"Fuck. You." Is your only reply as you head to the bathroom for the coldest shower possible.

.

After all of that, you sleep in bed beside him.

Because you know him now a little, and you know there's no way he was letting you have your own bed.

You'd gone to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, but you'd woken up in his arms.

"Thought vampires didn't need sleep?" You ask, voice unsteady, having just woken up.

"We don't." He answers, looking down at you. 

Your eyes trace his scars, you want to touch them, ask him what happened.

"So why did you lie beside me all night?"

"Because I wanted to." He answers.

Your stomach flips, and you have to look away as you feel blood rush to your face.

"Will you tell me more about this…imprint?" You ask softly.

He makes a little sound of displeasure.

"It's not exactly an imprint- It’s like-" He lets out a low sigh.

"It sounds worse than it actually is, but- ugh- do you know what quantum entanglement is?"

"Do I look like a physicist?" You answer.

He rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face at your snark.

"As simple as I can explain, when two particles are entangled, they remain connected, regardless of distance."

"What entangles them?" You ask.

"Physical interaction, but, with people, it's a lot harder to explain because there's a lot that isn't understood. It can happen with anyone, but not everyone, and at a subconscious level, it has to be accepted by both."

"You're saying I chose this?"

"Some part of you did, yeah, some part of me too, and then, no matter how far I got from you, I could still feel you."

"Feel me?" You press, hoping for him to elaborate.

He raises a hand, his knuckles carefully brush your cheek.

"Like you were always standing in the room with me. Like I wasn't alone."

You blink, trying to figure out if you'd felt the same way. You had so many questions flying through your head and difficulty putting them into words.

“Is there any way to break it?”

You can almost feel the air go frigid between you.

“As far as I understand, nothing breaks the bond except dying.”

Great.

“And what happens if we stay together?”

“I’ve heard different things from different people.” He responds.

“Like what?” You ask, trying to think it through. You remember Ethan had mentioned that there was the prolonging of lives involved.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head.

"I don't want to tell you what I'm not sure about. I have a friend, bonded to a human, maybe you can ask them whenever."

You swallow, nodding, trying not to fret over the possibility of more vampires.

Deep in thought, you blink in surprise when you feel his thumb brush over your cheek again. You look up at him in surprise.

"I have another question, but it's very personal."

"What is it?" 

You stall for a moment, studying the look in his eyes, the dark reflectiveness of them, the way you can almost see yourself in his eyes.

"Exactly how old are you?"

It changes the sour mood, the corner of his mouth curling in amusement before he gives you a fanged grin.

"That is a personal question, and maybe I'm not comfortable with answering." He says, tapping the tip of your nose with a slender finger.

You huff.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to freak you out, and telling you my age is gonna freak you out."

Maybe he was right, maybe it was better that you didn't know.

You sigh, rolling onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. He gets closer to you, fingers tracing over your cheek and down your neck, only stopping when they reach the healing bite on your shoulder.

Experimentally, he presses his thumb against the wound. You turn your head sharply to look at him, feeling the pain swim through your body but not reacting to it.

“Ow.” You say simply.

“How bad does it hurt?” He asks quietly.

You smack his hand away, sitting up, your back to him.

“Why does it suddenly matter?” You jab, moving to dangle your feet off the side of the bed.

There’s a big silence, he doesn’t answer, and after a moment you’re forced to glance back to make sure he’s still there and hasn’t dissolved into the air because of you.

He’s looking at you, as if he somehow understands something about you that you don’t know about yourself.

“How many times have you been bitten?”

The question brings a laugh to your lips.

“Enough times that I'm used to it.”

“Does it hurt any less each time?”

You turn away, an amused and thoughtful smile rises to your face.

“Every time I get bitten, always hurts like the first time.” You say in finality, leaving the room soon after.

.

Whatever bond he was describing- you didn’t feel it. There was nothing there but a deep seated need to explore him. It was more curiosity than desire.

At least, that’s what you told yourself to feel better.

You’d showered, looking at your reflection in the fogged mirror, trying to think clearly with so much frustration in your system. In the moment, you close your eyes, and recall the first time you’d ever fucked him.

It had been frantic at first, the way he’d used his tongue on you had your body begging for more, and you honestly thought you were going to die after you’d tried to kill him.

You’d put everything into it- savouring him because you wanted to seal yourself into his memory- if he was going to kill you by the end of it.

You’d gone pliant when he'd lined himself up with your entrance, and you can still remember the way your brain spiralled in surprise at the ridiculous amount of pleasure. No one had ever made you feel like that before.

Over and over again, you’d fucked till you could barely hold yourself up, till you’d been sitting on his lap, his hands gripping your hips to do all the work because you couldn’t even lift your head from the crook of his neck.

He’d been quiet, not like the second time, or even last night, when he was so vocal, the only thing you could compare it to was sin itself.

Your lower regions pulse. You can feel the heat between your thighs, begging for him, and the pleasure he gives regardless of how annoying he was.

It’s why you grab the dress at the bottom of the duffel bag to wear, deciding that you didn’t have to beg to get what you wanted. 

It was actually a really cute dress, blue, with little printed flowers all over it. Most importantly, it was short, only coming up to mid-thigh, which meant that if you bent over, he’d see the smallest scrap of lace you’d decided to call underwear today.

If he could play games, so would you.

.

He’s making breakfast when you step into the kitchen. It kind of amuses you, that he’s only cooking for you.

“Can I help?” You ask, stepping up beside him at the stove to look down at the omelette he’d been working at.

He glances at you, looks down at the stove, before blinking to look over at you once more.

You watch his jaw stiffen, you resist the urge to bite your lip as you watch his eyes trace down your body.

Oh, what power.

“Butter.” He says, “Fridge.”

You offer him a teasing smile, before turning away.

You bend unnecessarily, feeling your skirt rise up, cool air brushing the back of your thighs. 

The butter is on the middle shelf, making your bending completely unnecessary in the first place.

He's not looking at you when you turn around. You're not even sure if he's seen your little display.

He takes the butter from you without a word, and you're very intrigued by the way he cooks, the move of his wrist to flip the omelette.

"Can you get the bread toasted for me?"

How was he doing this? Being so calm and casual with you? Seeing this side of him was so much worse for your sanity than anything else. 

"You have bread?" You ask curiously, looking around, but not able to spot any.

"Yeah, here-" He steps away from the stove to reach into one of the overhead cupboards. You glance down at the pan on the stove, to make sure nothing is burning. The deep indentations on the handle of the pan barely catches your eye, and you blink in surprise.

There were deep impressions of his fingers… caused by squeezing too hard.

Maybe he was more affected with your display than he let on.

You fight a satisfied smile, giving him a knowing look when he returns to place the bag of sliced bread into your hands.

"You bought all of this for me?" You tease, "I'm flattered."

He looks hot when he rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice. I can’t let you starve.”

“Because you like me?” You pry, swaying your shoulders playfully from side to side.

He huffs, using the spatula to flip the finished omelette onto a nearby plate.

Billy doesn’t respond, simply shaking his head without looking at you.

It only urges you on, like a match, sparking as it rubs against coarse paper.

You brace your hands against his kitchen counter, stiffening your arms as you use your toes to push you into an effortless bounce, using the momentum to raise your body, sitting yourself on his counter, facing him.

He doesn’t look, simply preparing the pan for toast.

“Ah,” You tease, parting your thighs subtly, “So you don’t like me then.”

Yet still, he doesn’t respond, calmly observing the bread as it toasts, the smell of it in the air makes your mouth water a little.

But it’s not what you’re hungry for.

“Maybe you only think you like me because of how sweet my blood tastes. Maybe it’s all in your head-”

Your voice goes quiet when he finally pins you with a stern glare. 

His movements are decisive, turning the stove off, moving the pan away from the residual heat, and then turning to you.

Goddamn.

You gasp, raising a leg to back away from him while also making an attempt to push him back with your foot, but there’s nowhere for you to go, your head bumps a cupboard door, and that’s all the distraction he needs to grab your ankle.

You let out a little squeak, gasping as he pulls you forward and right up against his body, encouraging your legs to wrap around him.

You open your mouth to speak, to protest, to fight him in an unmeaningful way, but you don’t get the chance as his hand grips the back of your neck, forcing your mouth onto his.

God fucking damn.

Your eyes shut, your body relaxes, and then sings with delight as he delves his tongue past your lips.

You moan into his mouth, unable to fight it, leaning in because it feels so good to have him. 

Fuck every part of you that told you this was wrong. You wanted him and nothing would stop you.

You grip his shirt in a tight fist, leaning in, meeting his mouth with an undeniable force. He presses back, and for a moment you feel so blissfully wanted, maybe more than you’d ever been before.

Only when his hand weaves into your hair, his fist tightening to hold your head in place as he leans away, do you remember the taunting remarks that got you here.

Your scalp stings, mouth falling open to gasp in air.

His eyes are dark red, like the blood he drinks to stay alive.

He doesn’t speak, releasing your hair to support your behind as he lifts you off the counter, moving quickly with your body pressed to his.

Your vision shifts too fast for comprehension, and the next thing you can process is lying face down across the marble kitchen island.

He grips the back of your head to keep you there, warm cheek to frigid marble and you stay, refusing to move, wishing that he takes in this moment, everything that you’re willing to give.

He leans over your body, until his mouth is pressed to your ear.

“Do you ever shut up?” Billy hisses, and you have to fight a satisfied smile.

He’s not done ranting, continuing on as if he doesn’t care for your answers.

“I know you just said that to get a rise out of me, but the very idea of me only wanting your for your blood- makes me fucking sick.”

He leans in even more, taking a deep breath in the space of your neck.

“I want all of you, every single piece of you, over and over again until you’re fucking mine.”

He leans away a little.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? Hmm? When you put on this little dress and flashed that cunt at me?”

He moves away even more, and the next thing you feel is him pushing your dress up, his hand pressed securely to the small of your back so that you can’t raise your body.

He's still for a moment, and so are you, burning with anticipation, your cunt getting wetter by the second.

You gasp in surprise when you feel his nose graze the back of your thigh.

You shudder, feeling his breath along your most sensitive areas, your skin tingles as he runs his nose upward, your hands curl into fists beside your head when you feel a small puff of air against your skin.

He’s still for so long that you find your body tense with anticipation, biting down on your bottom lip hard so that you don’t beg him to just put you out of your sordid misery. 

You make a small mewling sound of surprise when you feel his tongue lick along the lace gusset of your panties. 

He tugs at the scrap of fabric, pulling it away from the tacky seam of your cunt so that he can get a better look, an uninhibited view of your desire.

You want to say his name, so badly that you can feel the resonant sound of it in the back of your throat. Instead, you repeat it in your head.

Billy, Billy, Billy, Billy…

“I can’t believe how fucking messy this cunt gets. All for me.” He says softly, as if you’re not meant to hear but you do anyway.

“Such a fucking shame that you won’t beg. The things I want to do to you, the ways I want to make you cum.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, panting hard against the kitchen counter, your inner walls fluttering, begging. 

“Fucking tease.” He breathes out, as he watches more arousal spill from between your thighs.

Billy, please-

Your gasp gets caught in your throat as his tongue licks a wet trail from your clit to your entrance.

“Fuck- didn’t mean to do that but I can’t help it.” Is all he says before his tongue starts licking you slowly.

Your eyes roll back into your head and stays there permanently for a few seconds. The flood of bliss is almost too much for your body to manage.

He grunts, his hands gripping your thighs to spread your legs further apart.

His tongue is forceful as it dances over your clit, and then, after what you assume is a moment of contemplation, you feel his tongue push its way against your entrance.

Your breathing is sharp and shallow, you reach to grip the other edge of the counter, trying to get some leverage to remain sane.

The pleasure is shallow, but your body is hypersensitive with denial, his tongue fucking into you at a reasonable pace is almost enough to have your breath stalling in your throat.

When he finally gets control of himself, his tongue slows, carefully licking you, daring your body to think about orgasm.

After a few more moments, he raises his head, and you breathe a sigh of relief, your body releasing the tension of pleasure, your hands relaxing its grip on the marble countertop.

But you should have known better than to think he was done with you, not satisfied until you know for sure that you’ve lost this interaction.

His hands on your hips, gripping them as he turns you over, pulling you up into a sitting position.

Nose to nose, you look into his eyes with a half-lidded gaze.

“Your blood is nice,” He whispers, hand raising to cup your cheek, “But it’s you I want, huntress. Don’t forget that.”

You sigh, pressing your cheek into his palm and closing your eyes.

“Say it for me. What do I want?” He asks.

You breathe out a huff, an unknown emotion squeezing your throat tightly.

“Me.” You whisper softly, eyes still shut to avoid his gaze.

He doesn’t mind, thumb caressing your cheek.

“Good girl.”

And then he’s gone- right back to toasting bread, as if nothing had ever happened.

It almost drives you insane.

.

.

.

Happy Halloween!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Could I request a reader who is an adult probably scavenging some parts or an ex maintenance worker who rescues Cassie with the help of roxie and Monty who was fixed by the reader.

As the young girl came to her senses, she could only groan in pain, although it was violently cut short when she began coughing due to the surrounding dust.

She then felt a warm liquid trickling down the side of her head, eventually landing on her bottom lip where she tasted iron.

Spitting it out in disgust, she could see it was crimson red.

'What happened to me...?'

Cassie tried to move, but quickly found that her leg was pinned underneath rubble, and above that was a slab of concrete that would be impossible for her to lift up on her own. She still tried to free herself, only to stop when she felt pain.

Her eyes eventually found the smashed maintenance elevator she was thrown out of, her memories becoming clearer. 'That's right...the elevator..'

Soon her gaze fell upon the shattered Roxy-Talkie device that was once her only connection with the outside world.

Her only connection with Gregory.

Or...at least who she thought was Gregory, only for it to be a lie.

And just as the real one managed to contact her and save her from that evil endoskeleton who was mimicking him, he betrayed her by dropping the damn elevator.

"Th-That jerk...!" She coughed. "He-"

'Cassie! Is that you?!"

"Cassie! If you can hear us, hang on!"

Blinking, she turned her head to see a familiar wolf coming to her rescue, alongside an adult who looked like one of the Fazbear technicians.

"R-Roxy.."

"Cassie! Thank goodness. We thought you were a goner.." Relieved, Roxy began shoving aside whatever she could to reach Cassie. From pipes to rocks to metal sheets.

"I-I thought you were, too." The girl shuddered, feeling her tugging on her arms.

But she remained stuck and cried out in pain when Roxy tried pulling her out, to which she immediately let go. "What's wrong? I-Is your leg broken?"

"No. She's just trapped under a giant concrete slab..you're not gonna be able to lift that, Roxy. That means you're up, big guy."

"Leave it to me, boss."

Cassie felt her blood run cold upon hearing the other familiar voice...one that she wishes she didn't hear.

"Grrrah....rrrAHHH!!!"

Within seconds, the slab was lifted, and she was free to look up at whoever saved her.

It was Monty, his upper body now affixed to a glamrock endo's lower half. He loomed over her, teeth gnashed together as he stared back down, looking annoyed. "I can't hold this all da-"

"AHH!! G-GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!" With a scream, she scrambled to her feet despite being in immense pain, determined to get as far away from the monstrous gator that stalked her all night.

She couldn't let him catch her.

Not again.

And so she ran-

Until she crashed into you, nearly knocking you over.

"Cassie! It's alright!" You kneeled down, holding her closely as her panicked breathings kept getting worse--to the point of hyperventilation. "It's okay. He's not gonna hurt you, shhh."

"B-But he's...h-he's...he's....!!!" She struggled to finish.

"Cassie, it's okay. Monty's on our side now. Look."

Hearing the comforting voice of her favorite animatronic, she slowly calmed down enough to look back, seeing Roxy standing there beside Monty, who had dropped the slab.

She blinked several times, confused at why he was so calm now and wasn't trying to chase her. "How did he...? He was in the water, and...I fried him-"

"It seems like you pushed the factory reset button on him," you spoke up. "Whatever you did worked pretty well. He's got his old personality back, although I don't think he remembers what exactly happened.."

Cassie gazed at you. "I-I'm sorry..who are you?"

"[Y/n]." Smiling, you set your hands on her shoulders. "I used to work with your dad, and-"

However, you fell silent when she began sniffling, eyes watering up as her lips trembled, clearly trying to stifle her sobs. You frowned and hugged her closely. "Oh, honey.."

That was all she needed to burst into tears, burying her face into your jacket as the stress of her journey finally came crashing down on her--in the emotional sense, this time.

She had no words to described how hurt and betrayed she felt; all she could do was sob and sob as she clung to you.

Roxy almost ran to comfort her on instinct, but Monty held her back by the arm and shook his head, assuring her that you both needed the space. The last thing she needed was two dangerous-looking animatronics hovering around her.

He knew that very well.

She reluctantly listened, watching as you picked up Cassie and allowed her to hug you around the neck.

"I-I wanna go home.." She hated how pathetic she sounded, though it was the truth.

She was so very tired.

"We'll get you home, I promise." You reassured her. "We found a way out."

"B-But..what about that endo?" Sniffling, she raised her head to look at you, wiping at her smudged makeup. "I-It's still here..what if it gets out, too-?"

"Oh, it ain't going nowhere anytime soon."

Confused, Cassie glanced back at Monty, her eyes widening upon seeing the head of the Mimic in his claws. "My trophy." He grinned from ear-to-ear, before attaching it to his hip.

You chuckled. "He tore that thing up in two seconds flat. It didn't even stand a chance."

"We both kinda ganged up on it." Roxy nudged her bandmate's elbow. "Nobody messes with the Glamrocks..especially us."

"Haha. Got that right!"

"That's good.." Cassie muttered, finally calming down as she realized he was indeed back to his old self, relieved the Mimic was no longer a threat. "But..what about the elevator?"

"It's not our only way up. If I know one thing about this place, it's that we got too many damn stairwells." You huffed. "Fortunately Monty cleared a path to one that was hidden. That's how we got down here and found you."

"Yeah, I did that." The gator boasted. "You guys should be thanking me!"

"We will after we get out of this dump." Roxy reminded him, rolling her nonexistent eyes. "I need to find Gregory so I can....." She paused, feeling as though you're staring at her, before she changed her wording carefully. "....tell him what a bad "friend" he is."

"I'll tell him that myself, too.." Cassie grumbled, resting her head against your shoulder. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah." Nodding, you took out your flashlight. "Let's not stay here any longer than we need to."

[writeforfandoms]

The Little Things Give You Away

Find my CoD Masterlist

You've been with the 141 for a little while now, part of the team but not part of the pack. A mission to Urzikstan changes that.

Warnings: Feelings of inadequacy, canon typical violence, non descriptive violence, shifter etiquette, swearing.

Word count: 5.4k

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader (fennec fox shifter), with background Alex x Farah

You’d been with the 141 for a few months now, after tons of work and a few test runs. You meshed well with their skill sets, your long fuse and medical training giving you an advantage over other hopefuls. By now, you’d run ops with all of them, as a large group and in smaller groups. You knew these men, trusted them on the field. 

But that trust still only went so far. You still didn’t feel like part of the pack. 

It took time, you knew. You’d integrated into other packs before. Part and parcel of this kind of life - you’d already been in half a dozen packs. (Which was perhaps a high number but you got along well with people. You didn’t think that was a fault.) 

So you had a job you loved, with men you trusted and respected. And a pack that kept you at arms length. 

One of these things was not like the others. 

You managed. You did the best you could, which was still pretty damn good. And that was enough. 

Getting called to the briefing room was nothing new, and you sat a couple seats away from Gaz and Soap. 

"Got a call from an old friend," Price said as he walked up the front of the room. "So we're gonna go help out. Off the books." 

"Where are we going?" Gaz asked, looking interested. 

"Urzikstan." 

Gaz lit up, but Soap and Ghost didn't. Well. At least you weren't the only one who didn't know what was going on. 

"Weapons will be provided once we get there," Price said. "Pack light, our ride will be here in an hour. Dismissed." 

You stood and let the others go first. You didn't have too much you had to do, after all. Just throw some necessities in a bag. 

"Question, sergeant?"

The voice of your captain and alpha broke you out of your thoughts, and you shook your head. "No, sir." 

Price eyed you for a moment before he nodded. "Best hurry," he advised quietly. 

You tipped your head in acknowledgement and walked faster, turning down a different corridor. Your quarters were a little bit away from the rest of the pack. 

Which was fine. It was fine. 

True to your prediction, you threw things in a bag and carried it out to the heli pad, and ended up being the first one there. You debated shifting, but knew you'd catch shit if anyone else saw you. So you sat down and pulled a book out of your bag, settling in to wait. 

"Good book?" Gaz stood over you, his own bag slung over his shoulder. 

"So far," you agreed, craning your neck back to look up at him. "Sounded like you know where we're going."

"I know which old friend, at least." Gaz shrugged, taking a step back so you could get to your feet. "You'll like her." 

Your eyebrows shot up. Her? Well then. This would be interesting. 

"Hurry up, wee menace!" Soap called as he passed the two of you. You immediately scowled after him. You hated that nickname and the whole team knew it. 

"One of these days," you muttered. 

"Only if you can catch him," Gaz pointed out with a grin. When you turned your withering stare to him, he held up his hands, laughing. "Was just a joke, love!" 

You huffed and turned away from him, ignoring his soft groan. The walk out to the heli was short, and you buckled in silently. Gaz sat across from you, trying to catch your eye, and you relented somewhat. Enough to smile at him. 

The flight was long and boring. The pilot, Nikolai, was a cheery man who occasionally told jokes over the headsets. Price sat up near him. 

When you finally landed, Urzikstan was hot and dry. Nothing too unusual for the region. Part of you luxuriated in the heat, wanting to shift and stretch out. 

But you didn't, falling in at the end of the line. The sandy tarmac crunched a little under your boots. 

"You still know how to make an entrance," an American voice drawled. You blinked.

"Alex!" Gaz jogged forward, clearly excited. 

"He's not wrong," a woman added. You finally got up to where you could see too. The man, Alex, stood next to the woman, both of them looking pleased. 

"You're one to speak," Price said, holding out his hand. "You both know Gaz. These are the rest of my team." He introduced Soap, Ghost, and then you. Of course you were last. As usual. “These are Farah and Alex.” 

You nodded to the pair, watching them. Hopefully you’d get some answers soon. You were starting to feel antsy. 

“This way.” Farah took the lead, Price falling in next to her. Gaz stuck with Alex, and of course Soap and Ghost were together. You trudged after them, taking a few moments to look around. 

Farah didn’t speak again until you were all inside, a little bit pressed together. The room was probably not really meant for five men as big as them. 

“We’ve had problems with the Russians again,” she said, glancing meaningfully at Price. 

“Who?” He frowned down at the map.

“A lieutenant of a man named Makarov.” 

You straightened, feeling the tension in the room ratchet as your teammates did the same. 

“One of his lieutenants, huh?” Price mused, leaning a little closer to the map. “Show me.”

Farah went over what she could, showing where the Russians had come from and what territory they’d claimed. It wasn’t much, yet, but she was rightfully worried about them taking more. 

“We will need to do recon, but I can do that.” Farah shot Alex a quelling look. 

Alex huffed softly. “Be better if you didn’t have to do it alone.” 

“Nobody notices a cat,” Farah pointed out, half gentle, half exasperated, the tone of an old argument. 

“I can go,” you offered, barely glancing at Price for permission. “I’ll blend right in.” 

Price hesitated only a moment before he nodded. “Fennec fox,” he said to Farah’s questioning look. 

Farah nodded, pleased. “We have time. We should learn each other’s scents now.” 

You grinned, immediately stripping off your tac vest. Ignoring the noise of protest from Gaz, you dumped your vest and boots off to the side and shifted. 

It was easy to wiggle out of your clothes as a fox. You were, you had to admit, pretty tiny, weighing only three pounds. Your ears swiveled, taking in all the sounds around you (you were pretty sure you heard a quickly stifled “aww” from Alex) before you yipped, once. 

“Enough of that,” Price grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. You huffed at him, uncowed, and took a few steps back and forth. 

Farah, when she emerged from Alex’s other side, was a cat. A sand cat. Also nearly perfectly suited to blend in with the sand, and very close to your size. But with smaller ears. You perked up, tail wagging as you crept forward. It had been a long, long time since you’d had anyone properly sized to play with. Farah’s nose twitched and she stepped closer to you, giving you both a chance to familiarize yourself with the other’s scent. 

And then you carefully bopped her on the nose. 

She reared back, looking startled, ears flickering. You readied yourself to roll over in apology, until her tail flicked and she bopped you right back. You yipped, high and pleased, and bounced at her before racing away. 

You weren’t sure exactly how long the two of you played tag, but it was long enough that you were thoroughly worn out. You’d seen multiple buildings, wound your way between at least half a dozen people (not including your own pack), and had even stumped her twice. All in all, you’d say that was a pretty good showing.

Until one big hand scooped you up. You squeaked, resisting the urge to bite when you sniffed the hand. Gaz. 

“Not leaving until tomorrow,” Gaz told you quietly, holding you close to his chest. You were still a little mad that he could hold you with one big hand, but, well… Being so small was to your advantage sometimes. “Food, then relaxing for a bit. Price’s orders.”

You huffed a little in acknowledgement, settling against him. Of your four packmates, he was the most conscientious about holding you, with Price as a close second. You didn’t even let Soap pick you up anymore. 

You did shift back to eat, not quite surprised when Farah ended up next to you, and Alex on her other side. 

“I have not seen a fox shifter in a long time,” Farah said, glancing at you. 

You smiled. “I’m the only fennec in my family,” you admitted. “Which is okay! Not like any of us are too big.”

Farah nodded knowingly while Alex just blinked at you. 

“How long have you been with the 141?” She nudged Alex into eating. Aww. Adorable. 

“Few months.” You shrugged, pushing your food around your plate. You were hungry but not - the food looked good but sometimes making yourself actually eat was harder. You had protein bars stashed in your bag for this very reason. 

She glanced between you and them. The rest of the pack had all settled around, not quite including you. Which didn’t bother you as much as it probably should. You could see the wheels turning in her head and shook your head a little. It wasn’t worth asking them. 

“So, how’d you end up here?” You looked at Alex with an easy smile. 

Dinner passed easily with the two of them, exchanging stories. You had a few of your own, including a few pranks you’d pulled off when you were younger. Sometimes being small had its advantages. 

But when Price called your name, you still straightened and looked his way. 

“Finish up,” he ordered, nodding to your plate. Dammit. You’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Then lights out, since you’re scouting tomorrow.”

“Yes sir,” you muttered, only a little sulky. You were quick to finish off your plate, even as Farah excused herself to talk to Price. 

“Sure you’re alright?” Alex asked very softly, giving you a quick look over. “Just, I’ve seen packs before, not just here but all over. They’re normally…”

“Tighter?” you asked with a wry little smile, carefully keeping your voice low enough that the pack couldn’t hear you. “Yeah. I know.” 

He eyed you carefully, gaze flicking over to where Farah and Price were talking. “Well, if you need anything, you let us know.”

Warmed by the unexpected offer, your smile softened. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” You nodded to him, and his lips quirked in return. You stood to put your dishes on the pile and retire for the night, per orders. 

“Everything alright?” Gaz asked, catching up to you easily, almost touching you. 

“Yeah, fine,” you were quick to assure him. “Which one’s ours?” 

“Here.” He guided you to the room the pack had been given. Quarters were tight, you understood. Was far from the first time you’d be sharing with them. “You sure you’re alright?” 

Your smile definitely felt frayed. “Why do people keep asking me that?” you mused, not quite expecting an answer. “Do I have some cosmic sign above my head?”

“No, just–” Gaz cut himself off with a sigh, shoulders slumping. “Checking, I guess. I know it’s easy to feel on the outside of things.”

You paused in the middle of taking your boots off, looking at him. For a wild moment, you wondered if he’d heard you talking to Alex. Then you shook it off. “It’s fine,” you said, looking back at your boots. “Not a big deal. Temporary additions are like that, I get it.”

“Temporary?” Gaz’s jaw dropped, distress leaking into his scent. 

“Yeah?” You frowned at him. 

“Who told you this was temporary?” He even sounded distressed now, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

You blinked. “My last CO,” you answered slowly, only a little uncertain now, even as you grabbed your sleeping bag. “Nobody said anything, so I figured–”

“That you were replaceable.” His eyes had gone wide now too. 

You shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Fuck.” He dropped his head. “You… fuck.”

“Hey, it’s fine, I get it.” You shot him a grin, easygoing and a little mischievous. “Foxes aren’t easy to be around for everybody.” 

Gaz looked at you like you weren’t speaking the same language. "You think we care about that?" 

You shrugged. "Who doesn't?" You shook your sleeping bag out and double checked that your stuff was as out of the way as you could get it. "It's not a big deal, Gaz." 

His jaw clenched, distress still in his scent, but something else was overpowering it now. Some odd combination of anger and determination. "Think there's been a misunderstanding," he said slowly, looking at you. 

You shrugged, wiggling into your sleeping bag. "Look, it's fine. Stop worrying about it. I'm here to do a job, same as you lot. Just leave it." 

He did not look like he would leave it, but he did turn and walk out, letting you finally settle down to sleep.

Or at least to lay there with your eyes closed, trying to turn off your brain. 

You woke briefly when the rest of the pack trooped in, but Price touched the top of your head. "Just us," he murmured, low and almost gentle. "Go back to sleep." 

You blinked slowly at him before you nodded, closing your eyes again and curling up. You'd be less of a bother if you took up less space, so you tried to take as little as possible. 

There was a soft but brief conversation behind you. You tried to tune them out, letting your eyes close and tucking your nose down again to block out errant scents. 

You were asleep before the pack had finished settling in. 

You woke first, slipping out of bed as quietly as possible and taking a moment to look at the pack. Soap and Ghost were curled together, Soap shamelessly using Ghost's bicep as a pillow. Price was between them and Gaz, stretched out and breathing deeply in sleep. Gaz… Gaz was on his side facing where you had been, a little furrow in his brow, looking faintly uncomfortable. 

You resisted the urge to check on him, to crouch next to him and touch him. You wouldn't be welcomed, anyway. So you turned away and went in search of a warm drink. 

Damn Gaz for making you wonder about your place in this pack. 

You had some nice quiet time before the rest of the pack got up, and then it was mission time. You got ready silently, taking as little as possible. One of your teammates would hold your stuff while you were scouting, you knew. 

But you didn't want to burden them further. 

"Woke early?"

You nearly jumped at the voice of your captain behind you, and you turned to look at him. "Yes, sir." 

He nodded, making tea and then sitting next to you, close enough that your knees touched. You eyed him for a moment, uncertain. Price was not exactly the most touchy-feely alpha, although you'd seen him touch the others plenty of times. 

"After this mission, I think we need to have a talk, hm?" He tipped his head to look at you, eyes very blue for the brief look you allowed yourself before your gaze dropped to the table. 

"Yes, sir," you agreed softly, heart plummeting. Well. Months was not a bad run in a pack. Better than your personal low of three weeks! You'd be fine. Everything would be fine. 

"Nothing bad," he assured you, because of course he did. He didn't want you distracted on mission. "Just clarifying some things." 

"I understand." And you did. Foxes weren't good for a lot beyond scouting and recall, after all. 

He nodded once, firm, and turned his attention back to his tea. You swallowed the last of your drink and slunk away quietly. 

You needed to get your head on straight and stuff your feelings back in the little box to be examined never. 

By the time you all gathered, you were ready, bouncing lightly on your toes. Gaz stood next to you, bumping into you lightly. 

"We've got two forward teams," Price said without preamble. "Soap, Ghost, you're with Farah and Alex. You two are with me. Farah's people will provide backup once we've got our intel." 

You nodded. No surprises there. 

"We will need to look for numbers, locations, entrances," Farah told you. "Weapons." 

You nodded again. "Got it." 

"Right. Let's get on it, then." Price smirked, jerking his head to the waiting cars. 

The drive out into the desert was quiet but for the roar of the engine. Gaz kept shooting you little looks, and you clenched your jaw. 

He must have talked to Price. Maybe he'd talked about your position on the team… or lack thereof. 

You couldn't help the niggling doubt that this talk Price wanted to have would end with you off the team and out of the pack. 

You breathed in deep and shoved it back down. You needed to focus. You needed to be clear headed. So you could report accurate information. 

The car stopped, and the two groups got out and moved up. Farah's group split off, and Price led you and Gaz away. 

He halted and turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised. You hunkered down, stripping off your vest. Shifting took no time, and you stretched out. 

"Ready?" He asked you softly. You resisted the urge to yip, instead stretching out your front legs and then bouncing in place. "Alright. You report right back to me." 

You bounced again and took off, weaving through the sandy landscape easily. You blended in perfectly, your ears flickering. 

Honestly, this kind of work wasn't hard. A former assignment had had you doing this near daily for a month to keep an eye on a high value target. 

You could always do more of this after Price ousted you from the pack. 

Huffing at yourself, you slowed as you approached the enemy base. Okay. Time to work. 

You made sure to take thorough mental notes before you crossed paths with Farah. She flicked her ears at you, tail twitching. You bobbed your head carefully. She mrrped very softly and gently headbutted you before she turned and headed back to her group. You did the same. 

You shifted back and Gaz hovered until you had your vest back on. You spoke while you dressed, being sure to speak clearly and as concisely as you could. 

Price nodded. "Well done," he murmured. "Right. Follow me." 

You shoved down the little thrill at the praise from your alpha (for however much longer that lasted) and nodded. 

The op was… not easy. Never easy. But you all made an excellent battering ram, clearing enough enemies off the field for Farah's people to make good headway. 

Price even managed to take the lieutenant alive, something that left him very pleased. 

You stood off to the side after the dust settled, watching the celebrating with a little smile. 

"Get over there and join in." Alex stopped next to you, nudging you a little towards Farah. 

"Maybe in a bit." You shrugged, trying not to fidget anxiously. 

"Hey." Alex frowned, ducking his head a little. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just… I'm fine." You shrugged again, fingers tapping against your vest in a restless pattern. 

Alex didn't get a chance to ask further. Soap threw his arm over your shoulders, pressed up tight to your side, while Ghost's hand landed heavy on top of your head. 

"There ye are!" Soap crowed, giving you a little shake. "Finally! Been hidin' from us?" 

"What?" You blinked, caught off-guard. "No, I just–" 

"Come on." Ghost tapped the top of your head and let his hand fall again. 

Alex grinned, looking far too pleased as Soap dragged you away. You didn't fight it, too confused to even object. 

"Found her?" Price asked, amused. 

"Aye, Cap." Soap pulled you in front of the captain, grinning, before he finally let you go. You couldn't entirely shove down the slow curl of dread in your stomach. 

"Have you eaten yet?” Price was once again focused on you. 

“No,” you admitted slowly. “Figured I’d eat in a while.” 

“Gaz told me you assumed this was a temporary position.”

You did not falter, because you’d been expecting this all day. “Yes, sir.” 

“Your last CO?” Price’s head tipped, just a little. The kind of mild curiosity that you didn’t believe for a second. 

“Yes.” You clenched your jaw, trying hard to be very still. 

“He was wrong.” Price took one step forward, just barely in your space. 

You blinked rapidly, confused. “...What do you mean?” You felt slow, like you were missing something that should be obvious. 

“Means yer pack, ye dafty!” Soap piped up, and then yelped when someone slapped a hand over his mouth. 

“It means you’re ours,” Price reiterated, not even sparing Soap a look. “I never intended you to be temporary.”

“Oh.” You blinked again, flabbergasted. “You… did?” 

Price huffed softly, his hands landing on your shoulders and pulling you in, slow but sure, until he was properly hugging you. You melted. You’d been so sure you wouldn’t have this–

“You’re pack,” he rumbled quietly, just for you. “Until you tell me otherwise.” 

You hid your grin in the hug. “You’ll be waiting a long time for that, sir.” 

Price huffed, amused, and released you. Only for Soap to tackle you from behind, obnoxiously rubbing his head on top of yours and ignoring your yelled protests. Price just watched, not moving to help you.

Gaz came to your rescue, because he was the best. 

“Shove off,” Gaz grumbled, helping free you from Soap’s grasp and instead wrapping his own arm over your shoulder. “C’mon, you need to eat.”

“Have you always been this fussy?” you asked, amused more than anything, letting him steer you to a table. “And just repressing it?” 

“No,” Gaz tried to deny at the same time Price said, completely deadpan, “Yes.” 

You sputtered a laugh, shaking your head even as you sat. But you didn’t have a chance to grab food - Gaz beat you to it, loading a plate for you and putting it in front of you. You blinked. That… that was new. And very interesting. 

Even more interesting was him claiming the spot right next to you, sitting close enough that your thigh pressed against his.

But he didn’t say anything, so you didn’t either, just focusing on your food. You ignored Soap snickering about something with the ease of long practice. He was always a menace. 

The celebration lasted well into the night. Soap pulled you into a few dances, Gaz kept you supplied with drinks and snacks, and Ghost silently watched over all three of you with little huffs of amusement. Price stayed for a little while before he slipped away to do work. 

You honestly weren’t sure what time it was when you finally begged off to go sleep, but you did know that Gaz followed you back to the room you were all sharing. 

“Think we’ll head out tomorrow?” you asked sleepily, dropping your boots next to your pack.

Gaz shrugged. “Depends how long it takes Price to get what he wants,” he murmured, sounding only slightly more alert than you. 

“Leave packing for the morning, then.” You dropped down into your spot, curling up again without even waiting for confirmation. 

“Good plan,” Gaz agreed, settling next to you. He didn’t quite touch you, but he did settle close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. 

You woke to him curled around your back, his breath puffing softly on the back of your neck. You blinked sleepily, tempted for a few moments to just go back to sleep.

Until the position you were in actually sank in. Then you very carefully extricated yourself, praying your pounding heart didn’t wake him. 

That… that was odd. And new. And a little bit terrifying, honestly. Because you liked Gaz, you’d always liked Gaz, even when he poked fun at you. You’d always forgiven him the fastest for the teasing. 

So to wake up to him like that? Made you want things you shouldn’t want. 

But you escaped without incident and went to find some food. 

Somehow, you weren’t surprised when Farah stopped next to you, Alex behind her. “Come with me,” she said. 

You didn’t even question her, just got to your feet and followed her. “Do I need to grab anything?” 

Farah shook her head. “I’ve already told Price,” she said, glancing back at you over her shoulder. “We are not going far.”

Well, that wasn’t quite as reassuring as she thought it was, but you didn’t question her. You just followed her and Alex to a car. 

“We will be scouting,” Farah told you as Alex drove. “Look for any sign of escaped Russians, or reinforcements.”

“Can do.” You sat up a little straighter, calmer now that you knew the mission. This wouldn’t be bad. Not bad at all. 

You and Farah both shifted in the car and Alex opened the doors to let you out. Farah went one way, and you went another. 

The base was large, spread out, but the two of you covered the ground easily. But everything was quiet, to your relief. You didn’t doubt that the Russians would hear of this, and they might retaliate. Possibly. 

If they had the resources and decided this was a high value enough target. 

You kind of hoped they just gave up. These poor people deserved some peace and quiet. 

You passed Farah, darting over to greet her and sniff her face before you continued on your way. You just wanted to check one more area, just to be sure, and then you’d head back. 

But you got lucky. No sign of life out here. (Apart from the little lizard you chased off.) 

You trotted back to the car, enjoying the little buzz of a job well done. Farah was already back, sitting on Alex’s shoulder with one of his hands on her back to help stabilize her. 

Aww. They were adorable. (And also making the ache in your soul much worse.) 

You hopped into the back seat and shifted back, pulling your clothes on again. Alex didn’t get in until you were finished shifting, and even then, Farah just sat in the passenger seat very regally. 

“All clear,” you said, and Farrah chirped her agreement. 

“Good.” Alex started driving. “Thanks for the assist.”

“No problem.” You grinned. “Always a joy to go out for a run.”

Alex glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “Especially with someone your own size?”

You laughed, leaning back more in your seat. “Pretty much.”

Alex nodded. “Farah said something about that too,” he admitted, glancing at the cat next to him. She just huffed but didn’t actually object or bat at him. So clearly he was fine. “What do you do with your pack?” 

“What, in terms of running?” You snorted, shaking your head. “I don’t. Not shifted, anyway. I can’t keep up.”

“So you and Gaz don’t…?” Alex trailed off.

You blinked. “I mean. Not really. Sometimes he trots after me, but we really can’t go running together.”

“He trots after you?” Alex grinned. “Boy’s got it bad.”

You blinked again, startled. “What?” 

“Following you around. Saw him make you a plate last night, too.” Alex’s grin was mischievous. “Farah does that for me, sometimes. Confused the hell outta me the first couple times, until she explained.” 

“Until she explained,” you repeated slowly. Because. He was wrong. There was no way Gaz had been… Had been… 

“Yeah,” Alex said slowly, glancing at you in the mirror again. “She said it’s pretty typical behavior for shifters.”

“For courting, yeah,” you agreed, still speaking slowly. “But you’re wrong about Gaz.” 

Farah actually turned around to look at you, giving you the most disbelieving look you’d ever seen on a cat. Alex gave you a matching look, which would have been hysterical under other circumstances. 

“He’s been flirting with you literally the entire time you’ve been here,” Alex pointed out. 

And you were about to deny that. You really were.

Except.

He’d been the one to follow you and check on you. He’d held on to your stuff while you’d been scouting. He’d made you a plate and made sure you ate.

Oh. Shit. 

Ohhhh shit. 

“Alright there?” Alex was not teasing any longer, concerned now. 

“Yeah,” you muttered almost automatically. “Fine.” 

Farah growled, low and short, expressing her disagreement with that. But she didn’t have a chance to do more - the car stopped. 

Without a second thought, you popped your door open and shifted, slipping easily out of your clothes and running. 

You didn’t want to be around people while you went over all the instances suddenly coming into startling clarity. 

Gaz had been trying to court you. For weeks. He’d been subtle about it at first, just walking with you, or making sure he was the one to pick you up. 

But dinner really cemented it. Sitting so close to you, fussing over your food like that… That was courting behavior, undoubtedly. 

It was too much all at once. 

You found a good space under a cluster of rocks right at the edge of base, burrowing under them and curling up. 

Gaz had been trying to court you for weeks, and you were an absolute dumbass who hadn’t noticed. You covered your eyes with your tail. 

A soft whine caught your attention some indeterminable amount of time later. You blinked and moved your tail to find Gaz as a wolf with his nose trying to get into your hiding spot. He whined softly again, and you could just see one paw scratching at the rocks. 

You huffed and crawled towards him, pushing your body against his snout. He withdrew, backing up a step to give you plenty of room. You tucked your ears down and wiggled out of your hiding spot, shaking briefly to get rid of any lingering sand. 

Gaz laid down in front of you, eyes big and pleading, tail wagging hopefully. 

You cocked your head to one side, one ear up one down. 

He huffed and wiggled a tiny bit closer to you, tail wagging a little harder. His tongue darted out for a quick kiss to your muzzle.

Oh. That. He must have talked to Alex or Farah. 

You eyed him for a moment before you took one step closer, until you were right in front of him. If this were anyone else, it would be a little scary just how much bigger he was than you. But this was Gaz. 

You weren’t scared.

You licked his nose. And when his eyes absolutely lit up, tail wagging so hard he was practically causing a sand storm behind him, you licked his nose again. 

He hopped to his feet to nuzzle you, exceedingly careful. You huffed at him and started back towards the pack room, since you did want to have an actual conversation. Gaz, to your surprise, kept pace with you. Which meant you were trotting while he was walking leisurely.

Stupid long-legged wolf. 

Soap got one look at you and whooped. “Took ye fuckin’ long enough!” he crowed. 

Your ears flattened to your head and Gaz snapped at Soap with a low warning growl. Soap completely ignored the warning, starting to tease you two. And promptly ended up with a wolf tackling him. 

You ignored the mess as the two of them rolled around, growling and snarking. Instead you went to the door and then sat and yipped at Price to open the door for you. 

“Fuckin’ muppets,” Price muttered about the other two, scooping you up in one big hand. You yipped at him again and he huffed back. “Hush. We’ll talk while they figure shit out.” The door shut behind him. But you still weren’t scared.

You believed him when he called you pack. And if this was part of being his pack… You wouldn’t trade it for the world.