#who is smart and trying to keep them all alive

[nico-di-genova]

Just thought about Pato and Alex as a ghostface killer duo…that’s a thought.

[thegnomelord]

this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

[esoteriamaya]

ASTROLOGY EDITION - THE SENSUAL APPEAL OF THE NAKSHATRAS

Hey, so I've been more focused on the nakshatras lately.. and love getting into how sensual, flirtatious, raw and powerful some of the nakshatras could be. I may start this off with just the nakshatras itself, focusing on the sign and its energy as opposed to the planets in each of these naks. So yeah. Lets get into it ;)

So first is up, Hasta. There the ones who really inspired me to do this so here we go.

Hasta - Delicate. Refined. Opened Hearts. Very sensual beings who know how to ease you into to their souls. They have a replenishing auras that could fulfill the desires of another. Oop, did I say that? They are indeed the temptress, the ones that will make you fall in love with, as they know you will never get anything from the in return. Having been hurt in the past, they usually carry themselves with a tight armor, only this time they know they wont have to... Because someone will always take the bait ;)

Hastas are truly amazing at crafting their hearts into the desires that they want. So much so, they'll utilize their sex appeal in order to get what they want. Very smart, coi and productive... Their like the jaguar you dont see coming. They always get what they want, because others are more than likely to give to the hastanian babe whenever they please.

Rohini - Ooooooh! They are sooo seductive. They have a quiet temper that is aroused when the right soul meets into their arms. They're only lovers for the plot. If it gets too deep and on the wrong foot then their outta here. Sorry busta!If you don't give it to them the right way, then they won't be here for long. They are only here for one purpose, and that is to fulfill their desires in more ways than one. Like their hasta friends, they know how to go for what they want, and they'll get it by any means necessary.

There temptress powers they carry can attract an audience if they let it. There touch can last for hours, penetrating into the skin like magic. They are the doorway to salvation. Pleasure is their profound language. It is a blessing and a curse to be this type of delight. A special occasion, they keep anyone anyway who is not deserving of their love.

Anuradha - I feel like this one deserves a round of applause ONLY because they do not share these gifts so easily. The people could want more but that isn't enough. Once they get a hold of your tempting magic people will definitely try and take you to the pits of hell. So its kept in a jar, locked away for a while until the anuradha babe is ready to go for the kill. When she wants it, she will. And when mama's hungry, shes gonna eat ;) Siren-like eyes that can penetrate into your soul. It can spook you ;) But all the Anuradha wants is to entice, it is how she gets what she desires. She has a flow that is naturally pulling like the Jyestha, we don't know what it is but its powerful, convincing, and its rare. The anuradha is the type to pull yu in, to the point that when she catches you in her spell.. she will eat you alive. Its better to stay away if you dont want to be bit, but her allure is just so damn powerful. It'll have you begging for more.

Krittikas - Their raw sexuality will pour into your skin, and before you know it.. they've already gotten you into their mini web. Darling.. the ones who where this nakshatra on their sleeves use every bit of their power to seduce the right one.. sometimes it catches others too. There striking presence keeps the others wondering where have they been all of their life. The one who moves to the beat of their own drum, tameless. It is why so many try to focus on wooing you in order to make you into what THEY want you to be.. and you beat em at their game every time. The seductive prowess they carry show a reflective force from the moon down to the sun, with its rays being so powerful it has everyone looking at them.. waiting to explore what is deep inside the krittika, only to be found later in their dungeon. Taking their souls, and never to be heard of again.

Shravana - They have a very powerful aura that pushes the narrative about themselves. They have the gift that keeps on giving. They know what to do with their seduction, its the one that gets them the highest bidder! What shapes you, is the power of the mind, the soul and the spirit. So they do themselves the diligence to create from within, and not without. They are hungry to learn more about their presence as their gifts connect to the souls of thousands.. What I mean is that these babes have a gift of opening up the godlike force that many try to emulate.. but many can't do. There seductive prowess inspires thousands to watch them as they watch to the shravana native, craving for their affection.. As they can be so very giving, but with a price. It all comes down to them wanting to be at the top, and they'll whatever they can to get it. It comes with a sense of ease, and they'll choose their favorite worshiper to teach ;)

Mula - HOT HOT HOT!!!!!! They don't even know how deep this goes.. but they penetrate into your skin with no effort. There gift is in spiking you with their mind, and leading you in with their heart.. They know how to entice you into doing for them and fitting to their needs.. You wont even blink an eye and yet wont even care. You'll just be glad to be in their presence is all. They have a special aura that most find pretty enchanting, and their souls spark a conversation one what makes them so unique.. because most people are mystified by them and begin to take notes.. but they will never know what that is to be exact. Which is what makes their seductive prowess just that damn good. It exists for them and them alone.. if they decide to share this with you consider yourself LUCKY.. Because they like you more than the rest, and who they are and how they carry themselves is a gift you when they want to share it.. Whew.. they'll really touch you in ways you won't forget.

I will post on the rest of them soon. Let me know in the comments how you feel about the nakshatras !!

[ikeucity]

moonstruck. | pilot - locked in orbit

── .✦⸝⸝ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. open!

pairings: spacestation!au hyung line + jungwon x reader

warnings. explicit sexual content, drug use, domination, spacestation!au, slight action, slow burn, strong language, intense sexual tension, advanced technology, explicit fantasies, adult themes (mdni)

⭑𓂃⸝⸝ life on the iss moonstruck runs like clockwork—until the lines between professionalism and desire start to blur. with hq’s strict rules—no fighting, no secrets, and absolutely no sex—you try to keep your head in the mission. but with the way your crewmates’ eyes linger just a little too long, that last rule feels like it’s waiting to be broken.

⚠ disclaimer: this story is a work of fiction and does not represent real-life events or the members of enhypen..

the steady hum of the iss moonstruck’s machinery was always there, a quiet background to your life in space. everything you did felt like a dance with the artificial gravity—just enough pull to keep you grounded but light enough to let you glide through the station. the sleek metal walls, lined with panels that flickered softly, made the place feel alive, like the station itself was breathing along with you in the vast emptiness of space.

each day was like any other—routine tasks, making sure everything ran smoothly. as the station’s data analyst, your job kept the mission going. you were the one processing the data, reading every little piece of information from the sensors, and making sure nothing got missed. you’d gotten good at it, so good that it felt like second nature now, but underneath all the focus and professionalism, there were thoughts you couldn’t shake. desires you’d buried, only to feel them creep back in the longer you stayed up here.

hq hadn’t left anything up for debate when they sent you up here, laying down the rules like they were etched in stone. first on the list? communication. no secrets, no deviations, no gray areas. if something felt off, you need to report it to headquarters, end of story.

the second rule? no fighting. space had a way of pushing people to their limits, but throwing hands wasn’t an option. you were all the best of the best, chosen because you could handle the pressure. but even the best weren’t immune to the tension that came with months of isolation.

and then there was the third rule—the one that hung over all of you like a silent threat: absolutely no fucking. hq didn’t bother sugarcoating it—pregnancy in space wasn’t just a bad idea, it was a catastrophe waiting to happen. the mission came first, no room for distractions. but with the way some of the guys looked at you, the way tension crackled between you all, that rule felt less like protection and more like a temptation. and the longer you were up here, the harder it became to ignore.

you remind yourself of the mission, of the years of sacrifice to get here, but there are moments—late at night, when the station is quieter than usual—that your thoughts drift back to earth. to the freedom of your old life, to parties, to the reckless abandon and sex with strangers that you used to indulge in. you weren’t always this controlled. and being surrounded by men who look at you like they’re barely holding back isn’t helping.

heeseung, the mission commander, had this quiet kind of authority that didn’t need to shout to be heard. his voice had authority, but there was a warmth to it that always drew you in. sometimes, you’d catch him humming a low tune, almost absentmindedly, and it threw you off in the best way—like he had the voice for a completely different life. but here he was, leading everyone through space. most of the time, he kept things professional, but during breaks, he knew how to let the crew relax, making everyone feel at ease. still, when he slipped back into his commander role, it was hard not to notice how incredibly attractive he was.

he was smart—sharp, actually. the kind of guy who could keep his head together no matter how tough the situation got. when he walked into a room, there was a quiet power in the way he carried himself, as if he always knew exactly what needed to be done. it made you wonder what it would be like if the mission didn’t come first—if heeseung wasn’t your commander, if the rules didn’t exist. you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be the focus of all that intensity.

he kept things friendly, always professional, but there was no denying the way his eyes lingered on you, just a little too long to be innocent. but he liked to keep that line drawn, just out of reach. and fuck, that made you want him even more.

and jake, the engineer, always had his hands buried in machinery, fixing, tinkering, making sure the moonstruck didn’t fall apart. those hands—//god, those hands//—moved with such precision and confidence, it was hard not to think about them doing something else. rugged, sun-kissed skin, messy hair, and that smirk that just screamed trouble. he had that laid-back, effortlessly hot vibe, the kind that made you think of long, lazy summer days, except you weren’t on earth anymore. still, whenever he’d bite his lip in concentration, you’d catch yourself staring, wondering how the hell you were supposed to focus when he looked like that.

he was always elbow-deep in the ship’s guts, making sure everything stayed functional, always tinkering with something. his hands moved so smoothly, so confidently, and honestly? you couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to feel those hands on you instead of the cold metal.

oh, but jake knew.

the way he’d throw you that cocky little smirk whenever your eyes met, like he knew exactly what was going through your mind. it was a game neither of you were willing to start, but the tension was always there. you knew he was just waiting for you to make the first move, but neither of you are dumb enough to do it.

you couldn’t help but wonder—if it ever happened, would he be as precise with you as he was with the ship? or would he lose control, hands everywhere, rough and needy? the way he looked at you sometimes, like he was barely holding himself back, made it easy to imagine how intense it could be. if only.

then there was jay, the scientist, you found yourself drawn to him too, calm, composed, always in control. his work was precise, every move thought through, and his dry humor? it was the only thing that broke up the endless monotony of space.  jay didn’t show it much, but you could tell he cared about the crew. he had that quiet way of looking out for everyone without making a big deal out of it—like it’d kill him to actually admit he gave a shit.

something about the way he carried himself, like there was a fire burning just beneath the surface. it made you curious. he seemed distant, sure, but that only made you want to figure him out more. maybe it was because jay reminded you of the guys you’d been with back on earth—the ones who were distant yet thoughtful, but probably had a whole different side when they got you alone. you could picture it so clearly—him losing that calm exterior, hands gripping you hard, his usual self-control gone as he fucked you like he couldn’t get enough. it was those guys, the ones like jay, who always surprised you when things got physical.

he is controlled, low-key, but you could just tell he’d fuck like it was his last day on earth. and that made it all the harder to push those thoughts away.

sunghoon, the pilot, was a mystery wrapped in sleek black hair that always fell into his eyes, giving him that moody, brooding vibe. it was annoyingly hot, to be honest. calm under pressure, never rattled, always cool as hell. and that confidence? it made you feel safe, but also a little on edge—like he knew exactly what he was doing, and you were just along for the ride. he didn’t need to demand attention; somehow, he just had it. the guy could be silent, and you’d still feel him in the room, like gravity itself shifted around him.

he spent most of his time focused on navigating the stars, steering the ship like it was nothing, but there was always something about him that felt… off-limits. mysterious, but in a way that made you want to dig deeper. sometimes you’d catch him watching you from across the room, and when your eyes met, he’d flash this small, knowing smile that made your heart skip a beat and your brain short-circuit in ways you’d rather not admit.

he was a rule-follower, but not the boring kind. no, there was something in his eyes that told you he’d break them in a second if the opportunity was right. and honestly? that thought was way too tempting.

but he could be a bit of an asshole too, which, in all fairness, you couldn’t blame him for. being stuck in space for months could mess with anyone’s head. the isolation, the lack of real human connection—it had a way of making even the calmest people snap. but with sunghoon? his assholish moments almost made him more attractive. like, underneath all that brooding, he was the kind of guy who’d listen if you actually opened up. maybe. if you got him in the right mood.

he was a puzzle, that’s for sure, but the kind you didn’t mind trying to solve, even if it took all night.

and finally, jungwon, the medic. youngest in the crew, but damn if he didn’t act older sometimes. he handles your health, the plants in the greenhouse, making sure everything stays balanced. those warm brown eyes that always watched out for everyone, but with a depth you couldn’t quite figure out. he was reliable, the kind of guy you’d trust in a heartbeat.

jungwon was fresh out of the program, still trying to prove he wasn’t lagging behind the others. and honestly? the guy worked his ass off, always on top of everything, tracking every little detail like heeseung did. if it came down to it, he could lead—he had that calm authority, never making a fuss but knowing exactly when to step in.

still, you couldn’t help but be curious. the way his hands stayed steady during check-ups, but his eyes always gave him away, lingering too long before he flashed that innocent smile, like he hadn’t just been checking you out. you tried to brush it off, but it kept creeping back. maybe he really was that innocent—or maybe you just liked to think so.

either way, guys like jungwon? they were the best. easy to tease, fun to fuck with. and the way he constantly took care of you? it made you feel safe, sure, but it also made you wonder how long that innocent facade would hold up before he cracked.

the station was small, and the tension—sexual or otherwise—was always there, lingering in the air like a storm about to break. everyone felt it, but no one acted on it. you were all professionals, and the mission came first.

but the thought of what could happen, what might happen once you returned to earth, was always there in the back of your mind.

just a week left before you were all supposed to head back to earth. the thought felt surreal. from up here, the planet looked so far away, a bright dot in the vast blackness.

you found yourself wondering how you got here, in space, surrounded by these men who tempted you in ways you didn’t expect. it would’ve been any woman’s fantasy, but for you, it felt more like a cruel joke. so close, but so far from what you could never allow yourself to have.

maybe once you were back on earth, things would be different. maybe then, you’d get to explore the feelings you had to keep locked away here.

but for now, all you had were fantasies and the thin line between duty and desire.

── .✦⸝⸝ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. open!

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝?

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[kazutora-kurokawa]

tenjiku with a reader who is totally opposite to them hehe

Tenjiku x Opposite!Reader

♡ SFW, fem reader, fluff, mentions of violence/fighting, mention of Sanzu ♡

Characters: Izana, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Mucho, Mochi, Shion

note: thanks for requesting anon 🩷 sorry it's so late lol

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Izana

🎴 Izana is cold, manipulative, and downright vindictive

🎴 So it was very odd that he ended up catching your eye, because why would someone so sweet and naive want his crazy ass?

🎴 Treats you differently than everyone else around him because in his eyes you're a precious angel and need to be treated with the utmost care

🎴 If someone so much as disturbs a hair on your head, he's kicking (and breaking) their hand

Kakucho

🩷 Kakucho is an absolute sweetheart and wouldn't hesitate to protect the people he cares about, including you

🩷 He's the rational one and you honestly act like Izana, impulsive asf

🩷 He keeps you in check and scolds you when you do bad things

🩷 Constantly telling you to check your attitude

Ran

💜 Ran is a lot more out there than you fr

💜 He's outspoken and won't hesitate to beat someone up, but he's also lazy as all hell

💜 You're way more energetic and always wake him up early (which he hates) and you tend to avoid confrontation with other people

💜 Which is why your guard dog of a boyfriend is always by your side to kick some ass for you

Rindou

🩵 Rindou is pretty introverted and standoffish, apart from when he's fighting of course

🩵 You're way more extroverted and always try to introduce him to new people and take him to different places

🩵 You teach him how to be more outgoing and social, and he shows you how to not give a fuck lol

Mucho

💙 He's big and serious (also seriously big 😮‍💨)

💙 The size difference is almost comical, not to mention the fact that you're really carefree and seem to not be bothered by anything

💙 You're probably the only one who can get him to crack a smile

💙 Introduces you to Sanzu because he feels like you two would get along (immediately regrets it because you're a bad influence on Sanzu 😭)

Mochi

🍡 This man is a damn giant compared to you lmao

🍡 Always carrying you around on his back or shoulder

🍡 He's a lot more cheerful than you, especially when he's fighting other people

🍡 The type of man to play fight with you to cheer you up and accidentally hurt you in the process 😐

Shion

♥️ Shion is a total dumbass (+ an absolute dork), so he felt like the luckiest man alive when he bagged you

♥️ You're way too smart and responsible for him, but that's a good thing

♥️ You keep him out of trouble and teach him good habits

♥️ You also patch him up after fights and scold the hell out of him, but he wouldn't want it any other way

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe

[aliceinborderlandscrolls]

How To Make A Cheshire Blush

Chishiya Shuntarō x reader

You make it your goal to see Chishiya blush

Fluff - Suggestive

I have known Chishiya Shuntarō for a little over eight months since entering the borderland. In that time I have never seen him flustered… Ever.

How is that even possible? What man could be so calm and collected that nothing makes his cheeks flush the color of strawberries? Not even when facing death does his calmness fade…

I glanced over at Chishiya who was watched the group we teamed up with mild amusement as they betrayed each other one by one. How can they all be so foolish? If only they would put their fears aside and trust one another. Maybe then we could all make it out alive and find out who the Jack of Hearts really is. This entire game was so tiresome. I sighed loudly, earning a glance from Choshiya before he returned his gaze to a man sweating profusely as he told another player their suit.

“We’ve been here for days and it’s so…” I folded my arms on the table, “Boring.” I sighed again as my shoulders slumped.

“Find something to do.” Chishiya had zero interest in my boredom and did nothing to try and entertain me.

It wasn’t his problem nor benefit him, so why should he care?

My attention found its way to the pair, Aba and Kotoko. It seemed that they have been attached to the hip quite literally since the start of the game. Studying them closely, they reminded me of a business looking man and his personal assistant.

I chuckled at the thought of all the drama and scandal they might have caused in the old world, especially if he was high up there. I watched as Kotoko pressed herself even more into Aba’s side while he looked as if he held all the power. For a moment I wondered what it would be like to be just like her. To be someone who didn’t rely solely on herself.

I suppose in a way I have some trust to Chishiya, I considered him my friend. He did treat me as a friend though. I also considered Kuina a friend and I knew she thought the same about me. My mind briefly drifted to her and I hoped that she was doing okay, alive somewhere right now.

My thoughts drifted back to Chishiya. He was cool and highly intelligent, not to mention drop dead gorgeous, but something I wonder if he would sacrifice me for his gain.

“I wonder what that feels like.” I muttered as I placed my chin in the palm of my hand.

“What?” Chishiya took a bite from his own bag of cookies as his attention flicked over to where I was looking, “To be a self righteous prick?”

“No.” I shook my head leaning on my chin, “To rely so heavily on someone to protect you that you don’t learn how to protect yourself.”

“You wouldn’t make it very far with that mentality.” Chishiya muttered, “Luckily, you’re too smart for that.”

I grinned at the small compliment from the Cheshire man. It was rare to hear praise from him even if it was usually mixed with mockery. It was in that moment that my innocent grin turned sly as I thought of the perfect thing that could keep my boredom at bay.

His brows furrowed at my smile, “Quit looking at me like that, it’s weird.”

“What if the only person I knew to keep me safe was you?” My grin turned into a smirk.

“But it isn’t?” His answer came out more of a question as he tried to figure out my plan.

“But what if?” I leaned my weight onto his side, wrapping my arms around one of his, “Would you take advantage of my undying loyalty, Shuntarō?” I could see a blush coat his cheeks and I couldn’t help, but laugh, “Of course you would, you sneaky cat.”

He nudged me off him with a grunt. I leaned closer to make sure I was seeing this right… The Chishiya Shuntarō was in fact, blushing.

“Oh my stars.” I gasped in amusement as I pressed a hand to my heart, “Is that a blush I see, Chishi?”

I did it! I thought as excitement built up inside me. I made him blush!

“No.” He looked away from me.

“I think it is.” I poked his cheek, giggling as I sat back.

My giggling died down as I looked at him. He didn’t say anything, but he seemed flustered. Is it possible that he held some kind of feelings for me?

“Chishi.” I smiled when he looked at me, “You want some?” I held up my strawberry cake roll.

He eyed me and it suspiciously before he gave a simple nod. I opened the package, breaking off a piece for him to try. I shook my head as he reached for it as I brought it up to his lips. He opened his mouth slowly as he took a bite.

“So would that make you a self righteous prick?” I teased quietly as I fed the cake to him.

He rolled his eyes and he leaned back, taking time to chew and see if he liked the cake.

“Way too much strawberry.” He mumbled after he swallowed, but continued to eat the next piece I gave him.

He returned the gesture with his own bag of cookies as we munched on the others snacks.

“I am an asshole.” He spoke without hesitation, “I am not kind. I am manipulative and I do what I must to get ahead. I don’t care about anything so why are you always hanging around me?”

“You are those things, but I think you’re wrong about how you see yourself Chishiya. You are so much more than that. You are kind, to Kuina and to me. You are manipulative, but that just means how intelligent you are in understanding everything. You can solve the hardest puzzle on earth with just a glance. You say you don’t care, but deep down I know that you do. You have just built a wall that is worth climbing because you mean more than anything in the world to me.” I answered softly.

He wasn’t able to respond as the speaker dinged.

“I believe it’s almost time.” I sighed as I looked up at the clock.

My attention turned to Kotoko who grabbed a packet of cookies… The same brand that Matsushita grabbed a few minutes ago.

“Hm…” I hummed watching what would be a meaningless passerby between the two, “Maybe I do have more undying loyalty than Kotoko.”

“Seems so.” Chishiya smirked.

I turned in my seat, brushing my hair away from my collar.

“Heart.” He said and turned so that I could tell him his suit.

“Diamond.” I repeated the symbol I saw.

“Fits us well.” He muttered standing up to begin our journey to our cells.

“Aw does that mean I have your heart Chishi?” I stepped up to him teasingly.

“You have my headache.” He stated before walking into his cell.

I entered the one beside him with a warm feeling creeping in my chest. I think it’s the other way around, I think you have my heart Shuntarō.

“Heart.” I spoke my final answer as I waited to leave the cell.

[elllisaaa]

hi lovie✨✨💘💘 ur blog is so cute! May I request a Joshua hong from seventeen bf!thoughts😇🎀 ur Scoups one is AMAZING seriously the level of detail was so lovely

thank you so much !! i'm glad you love my aesthetic as well as my writing, i hope you'll love this too <3

BF!JOSHUA who's literally the definition of a gentleman and who would do quite anything for you if you ask for it.

joshua always does little acts that proves how mindful and attentive to your every move he is : putting his hands over the corners of tables, counters or cupboards when you bend down to get something, opening doors and things like bags of candies and water bottles for you, doing your shoelaces or helping you put on your heels and taking them off, refilling your snacks at your apartment and always carrying something for you. all of that comes to him so naturally, like he doesn't even think about it only because you're always on his mind, his number one priority. when you're talking, he's focused entirely on you, eye contacts and all to make sure that you know he's listening to you intently. plus, he always remembers all the little details you mention. that means that joshua is very aware of your emotions, so if you're tense, he will definitely notice it and offer you a massage to help you relax.

"come here my love, i'm gonna help you feel better, yeah ? you can talk to me if you want, you know that i'm here for you anyway."

he always makes sure to show you that he's there for you in social outings by letting his hand rest against the small of your back or by wrapping his arm around your waist and keeping you close to him. and when you're away from each other, his eyes are always drawn back to you, a smile spreading on his face when he crosses your gaze. joshua also loves to do that to show everyone that you're his, and that he's proud of being yours. he would give so many compliments, literally all the time - about how pretty you look, about how smart you are, about how good the food you made that day tastes. anything you do is worth a praise in joshua's mind. knowing how easily you can blush and get flustered from his comments, he would love to tease you a little by whispering some compliments to you while you're with other people, grinning as your cheeks grow red and you hit his chest for making you shy again.

"what ? can't i tell my girlfriend that she's incredibly gorgeous ? you wound me love."

you would get so many random kisses from joshua. he just can't help it - when he's bypassing you at home or when you look too cute, no matter the place, he's going to kiss you as soon as he gets the urge to. he would kiss you anywhere he can reach - your nose, your temples, your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, the top of your head or even your shoulders if the outfit you're wearing allows it. these little marks of affection always make you melt, especially when it's followed by a new love confession that makes your heart skip another beat. joshua is the type to bring you flowers randomly because he says that he doesn't need a reason other than love to gift his girl flowers. you always try to keep them alive for as long as possible, and when they do die, he helps you dry them to keep them - and he falls even more deeper for you when he discovers that you've been doing this with all the bouquets he gave to you since you started dating. he also definitely loves to make you handmade gifts, and you have matching bracelets that he created with a meaning behind every charm and that you both wear all the time.

"i made this thinking of you, i hope you'll like it."

BF!JOSHUA who doesn't stop spoiling you when it comes to sex, on the contrary, it's even harder to stop him from giving you everything he got.

to me, he's 100% big on overstimulation. firstly, because joshua loves to smother you with his love and that making you cum as much as possible is a form of love to him, and secondly, because you're very pretty and cute when you're trying to push him away because he already made you cum on his tongue three times and you can't get any more. but joshua always entices you in giving him one more, and one more, and one more until you're shaking and moaning his name uncontrollably underneath him. he'll let you sit on his face whenever you want to, but once he starts, he doesn't let you go until you soaked him in your juices - because he likes how squirmy you get and also because he loves your taste a little too much. by the time he pushes his cock into you, you're already so fucked out that all joshua has to do is hit your sweet spot a few times for you to cum again, and he loves how sensitive you get after a few orgasms and how easy it becomes for him to bring you to the edge.

"that's it love, give me one more… yeah, just like that."

praises extend into the bedroom of course, every word leaving his lips during sex being compliments and basically he's worshipping you and your body like a goddess. joshua never stops himself from telling you that you look hot or pretty, or that you feel amazing, or that you're doing very good, perfect even. he knows you kind of seek out his approval, and he cannot resists the urge to compliment his little angel when you're sucking him off and you look up at him with your big doe eyes - of course he has to tell you that your mouth feels so good he might cum down your throat. joshua is even more high on praises when it's intimate, lazy, morning sex. he loves the feeling of waking up next to you, limbs entangled with each other's, and just making out with you slowly until both of you just need to feel even closer. it's always so romantic that joshua just feels the need to confess his love again and again. but he's also spurred on by the fact that his praises turn you on and make you go weak in the knees.

"you're doing so good baby, such a pretty good girl."

sometimes, joshua also enjoys laying back and letting you do all the work, but it's very rare, and you'll have to do a lot to convince him to not move a finger while you're the one spoiling him for once. he surely loves the feeling of having you being all over him and being taken care of by your sweet hands, but he prefers to be the one making you go crazy. joshua particularly loves it when the pleasure he gives you gets so intense that you can't control the noises you're making anymore, nor the words that are spilling out of your mouth. when you're getting dirty is when he knows that you're really into it. that also goes with the way you don't even notice how strong you're pulling on his hair sometimes, but joshua doesn't mind because it brings him a different kind of rush that he loves. however, his favourite is when you dig your nails into his back and scratch it, when you leave your marks all over him. he's not too fond of marking you himself, but the way you're silently claiming him plus the slight pain the next morning gets him going more than anything.

"don't feel guilty, i love it when you get freaky baby."

[evilkitten3]

ok so like i know the reason is just. sexism but one thing that really irks me about how the post-timeskip naruto manga handled which characters became medic nin bc it makes absolutely no sense to me

sakura's decision to train under tsunade makes sense, and i love that she got a super strength power up, so no notes there, but the other teams.... yeesh

so first off, team ten. we're told that ino decided to follow sakura into mednin land to keep being rivals with her... despite that at no point factoring into their rivalry at all beforehand. ino never showed any interest in that, nor was the yamanaka clan ever mentioned to have anything to do with healing as far as i can remember. it's like going to art school to stay with your bestie when your goal is to become a dentist. why are you there. find other ways to spend time together. it also kinda goes against her family's whole thing as. the guys who do the torture stuff. and it's barely ever relevant anyway

for team ten, i think the team medic should've been shikamaru, and i think this not just bc i think it makes more sense skill-wise (something about the way the nara clan's various shadow jutsu work just screams "you need good chakra control for this" to me), but also bc i think it would make asuma's death a thousand times more painful. bc shikamaru is a slacker. he's not learning medical ninjutsu bc he wants to, he's learning it bc someone on the team has to in order to stick together. they're all chuunin now; one of them has to be a medic. them's the rules. but he doesn't really care that much, even when he is trying to learn, and he's so used to being smart enough to not have to pay attention in lessons anyway that he's not prepared for classes that require his full focus. and then asuma dies and shikamaru is doomed to spend the rest of his fucking life wondering if he could've saved him by paying just a little more attention to those medical ninjutsu lessons (he could not have (but he'll never know for sure))

team eight makes some sense, since giving the girl who struggles with fighting the healing job isn't exactly out of nowhere, but i do feel it was the lazy choice. kiba already had a sister involved in the medical business, even if she deals more with animals, so he could've started learning from her and found that he liked it. plus kiba's goal is to be hokage, and the current hokage is a mednin, so it's not like it wouldn't support his goal. or shino could do it; would add another layer to his character. hinata works fine but. it's just not a very interesting development imo

but what really gets me is team gai. good freaking grief. out of every single team, team gai was the one with the most obvious choice. bc there was only one choice. lee can't do any kind of ninjutsu, and tenten's only real backstory is that her chakra control isn't good enough for her to be a medic nin. so it had to be neji. canon establishes that every team has to have a medic; this is a policy tsunade got passed even before she became hokage, so no way in hell is she going back on it now.

moreover, neji becoming a medical ninja - especially if hiashi encouraged it - would show some development for the hyuuga clan maybe starting to suck a bit less. bc as a medic, neji would be bound by oath to stay alive for as long as possible. imagine a world in which hizashi came back and hiashi was able to tell his brother that not only was their family starting to change, but his son had chosen a path that would prevent him from ever following in his father's footsteps. it would be the first step (of many) to show that the hyuuga clan was freeing itself from its own bullshit.

also it would've made sakura catching the zetsu pretending to be neji a thousand times funnier. like that's her coworker. they've shared shifts at the hospital together. she's seen neji drink vodka straight from a bottle and then crash on her couch after they got out of a twelve-hour surgery on the fucking dumbass chuunin who managed to step on his own boobytrap. she knows him.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

In a Lovesick AU, where yanderes are a known part of society, and darlings/bbys are as well, working like ABO with being a gender... Imagine Reader hides they're a bby.

They're this random teen or young adult who is tired constantly, does side jobs amd odd tasks to earn money, drinks coffee and sugar to stay awake and alert, and struggles to function amongst others. Reader is able to pass themself off as a yandere, just barely, due to having OCD and using that as a shield between anyone who suspects them. Reader is friends with the teens, and does their best to get along with the adults, as well as most of the school and it's students and faculty. This leads to Reader being well-liked by most, who have a respect for them, someone who seems to try and help others and has no hidden agenda, and someone who respects boundaries, and who leave everyone to their own devices...

What Reader doesn't know is this leads the yanderes and yanlings (baby/kid/teen/young adult yanderes) to really want their friendship and advice. Reader seems to know how to please others and is pretty chill, so why not try to befriend them or have them on their side? They think Reader is a pretty chill yandere, a surprise to almost everyone who meets them. Reader is funny, kind, smart, and obsesses over cute or odd topics! They'd be a lucky person to have! Except... they aren't a darling or bby. And no one can exactly touch them or make a move without getting into legal trouble unless Reader is okay with it (because they're registered as a yanling) or if they were a bby... If they were a bby, they'd have to have a yandere, or some support system, as yanderes protect darlings and bbys, they're meant to do that, they're supposed to he strong and caring and steadfast, not swerving or rejecting them, or letting anyone mess with their bby... And darlings are loving, caring beings, who give love and bring hope and provide care and comfort... Wars were started in ancient times over darlings... They're rare, usually being hidden away or dying early on, due to their diffent biology and pheromones and needs than yanderes...

Reader likes their odd friends and the school and their friends' strange mentors, but always always a distance between themself and everyone. They know they're different, they know others wouldn't let them be on their own if they knew the truth, and so many people could hurt them or abuse them or experiment on them if they found out... It keeps Reader up at night, it fuels their paranoia, it makes them add extra locks to their doors and windows and set up traps if they had a nightmare... They want connection, to have family, to be loved... darlings need that, so badly... it's why so many die, because they don't get enough, or they end up in horrible situations so young, and they simply wither away, dying... Reader couldn't stand that to happen to them. Couldn't stand to become a shell of themself. So they hide, they keep scent blockers so mutants, who have heightened senses, can't detect anything different about them. Reader even hones their mutation in secret, no matter how good or bad, controlled or destructive, they are, so they can defend themself if worst comes to worst...

It all goes to H*ll when an accident happens, perhaps a fight or getting wounded or just being caught unaware, and now the platonic yans, at least a handful, know what Reader is. And they're... shocked. Elated. Worried. Their friend or kids' friend is a bby... They've been on their own. With no yandere. No help. And they're still alive? It's a rough night for them, as they struggle struggle what to do. They can't leave Reader like that. It wouldn't be right, would it? Bbys need more love and care than yanderes, needing someone to keep giving it, constantly... Without it, they tend to get sickly, or go insane, or die... And if that happened to Reader, they wouldn't forgive themselves...

It's not much of a choice to them. They tell their team, they possibly alert the other group, and devise a way to get Reader to join them. If they can manage, they want Reader to join willingly. If not, they'd have to kidnap them or force them to stay, which could harm them or damage their trust and their instincts. They know Reader is now scared of them, even if they brush it off or try to hide it. Reader says they're fine, but they know they aren't. They see them being more alert, more wary. They see how they are more deceptive, more careful, with what they say and do. They even seem to be thinking of leaving, or hiding themself... And that behavior won't help them, or make anything easier.

They have a plan, they just need to hope Reader doesn't catch on untik they're finally somewhere safe, preferably where they can do a check-up and figure out what they need to feel better and accept them as their family...

[artbyblastweave]

Heroify: Kingpin

Compared to some of the other characters people have sent in today this is like shooting monkeys in a barrel!

Part of the reason Fisk is such a good Daredevil villain is that he's already got a lot of the basic elements you need to make a street-level hero work- the will, the drive, the protectiveness, the territoriality, and the quote-unquote "badass normal" peak human fighting ability that, let's not fuck around here, is absolutely a superpower even if the chickenshit writers won't directly admit to that. It's just that he uses those abilities to be a crime boss rather than to fight crime bosses. To put himself in charge of his childhood bullies instead of fighting his bullies. A classic case of "If only he'd used his immense capacity for interpersonal violence for good." What would make him stand out from all the other heroes in his niche is his propensity for Empire-building, his complete inability not to build up some kind of organization from scratch, and what that impulse might look like in a superheroic context.

I'm imagining that his initial schtick is that of a Bully Hunter. After getting ripped and wiping the floor with his childhood bullies-or maybe this is one of the versions who offed his own father for beating on his Mother- he embraces the specific high of the "pick on someone your own size" routine, and he becomes The Big Man, the guy you go to when you need somebody who's been getting away with something for a while cut down to size. Upstairs neighbor is beating his wife and kid senseless, and nobody does anything because his brother's a cop? Call The Big Man. Real Estate Baron's using his connections to try to muscle out the residents of a tenement? The Big Man's gonna pay them a visit. Boss at the diner's withholding your paychecks and getting away with it because you're undocumented? You get where this is going. He usually doesn't kill people- not out of any particular code, but out of a combination of pragmatism and sadism. He's smart enough to engineer situations in a way that he can claim self-defense or frame someone's tumble down the stairs as an unfortunate accident or rely on the unexamined illegality of whatever his target was doing to prevent them from getting the police involved. He's got a bit of a financial cushion, as well, because all of this is actually his side gig- he's still a very successful, if not as cutthroat, local businessman, because hospitalizing domestic abusers doesn't pay the bills. As a power move, he does most of this under his own name- he's got a "costume" in the form of the distinct suit, and a nominal codename, but part of the bit, part of the point he's making, is that he's slightly better at weaseling out of the consequences of his actions than the people he targets. Always a bigger fish, after all. Power is relative. His thematic niche is distinct from Daredevil's abstract sense of idealized justice. It's not Frank Castles mechanical eye-for-an-eye approach. It's about the satisfaction of leaving a certain category of wrongdoer alive, so that they can remain very, very afraid.

Of course, since his entire bit is that he keeps putting untouchable assholes in fullbody casts, the attempts on his life start stacking up- First it's Ed the domestic abuser and his buddies from the bar coming around for a rematch, and then goon squads, then hand ninjas, then low-rent supervillains- and because The Big Man toes the line of being an actual superhuman, he's usually winning these things, and coming out ahead in the PR game for beating down a bunch of costumed thugs attacking his Perfectly Legitimate Art Gallery- but it's a pain that his office keeps getting firebombed. And this is where you start to reap the benefits of having done under-the-table favors for hundreds of people all over New York- The Big Man has a network now. The Big Man knows guys who knows guys, some of whom owe him favors, some of whom are just really afraid of him coming back for round two. The Big Man can pull together a hundred guys with crowbars and hammers on a day's notice, if he happens to need something like that. If he doesn't know someone with a backdoor into Tombstone's fortified penthouse or Hammerhead's mansion, if he doesn't know someone with incriminating information on Silvermane or Norman Osborn, well. He knows their cousin. And once he thinks to begin leveraging this? If the people escalating things have specific addresses, by the end of the week they very likely don't.

It's not as if he eliminates all criminal activity. He's not even interested in doing so. Like half the painting's he's selling are really convincing forgeries. But things hit a point where there's simply a hard practical limit on how imperial a supercriminal's ambitions in New York can become, how domineering, how visible to the man on the street, before The Big Man decides it's time to make a point and starts calling people, who in turn start calling people.

[mrsriddlenott]

~ Caught VI ~

Mattheo Riddle x fem!Reader

[masterlist][last part]

This is gonna be Christmas centered(gift giving and such)even though it’s almost Halloween😭🤷‍♀️thought it was cute.

I’m sorry if this is a bit long, I’m tryna get in some real plot with this chapter🤞🥰

Warnings: A Lil Angst(in the beginning), VeryFluffy,SweetSmut,Unprotected PinV, DaddyKink. Sex Toys Mentioned&Alludes to Bondage(future pt😉)

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be in here?” Mattheo asked in a hushed whisper as you pushed the heavy door of your manor’s library shut behind you both.

“I’m the only one who ever comes in here, they won’t even hear us talking all the way in the back.” You sighed out, the ball had just ended and your father had unsurprisingly pulled your mother into his study, likely to “brief” her on his plans.

“I know I should have told you ages ago and it was wrong of me to keep it from you….and all of our friends. But I just couldn’t, I couldn’t even form the words to tell you he was a Death Eater, let alone what he’s been planning since….he went into hiding.” Mattheo listened to your hushed words intently, wincing slightly at your mention of his father as you led him to a small leather loveseat in the far back corner of the large, dusty library.

“I knew I’d tell you eventually….I guess I just got so caught up in everything else that I never decided to try. Or maybe I was just too scared you’d never talk to me again. Honestly I don’t know.” You shook your head as you sat on the cold leather, Mattheo remained hovering, standing in front of you as you avoided his eyes.

“I had a half-brother, Will. He died before I was born in the First Wizarding War. My dad tried to run with his first wife, so his wife and son were killed. He married my mom for the money that marrying into my grandfather’s family promised, and then had me to make sure he got the inheritance.” You didn’t notice when you started crying or when Mattheo joined you on the seat to comfort you. The story was clear in your mind as though it happened to you, you grew up under your fathers hatred, and knew every small detail of his obsession.

Your father was one of very few people who knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the Dark Lord did not die on Halloween of ‘81, and when he inevitably came back to power almost 3 years ago, it all was meant to fall into action. Your father played the dutiful follower as he weaseled his way into his inner circle. Your mother was to play the innocent housewife as she absorbed all information from the wives and husbands of the other Death Eaters. And you….you were to get their children to tell you anything they knew of their parents assignments. However, you threw a wrench in that plan before it even began, you’d never hurt your friends, and once you started dating Mattheo it was solidified.

And your father hated you for it.

It only took one year at Hogwarts for your love of your friends to overpower your love for your father. You fed him lies and misinformation or avoided home all together, but somehow could never come out and tell your friends why you introduced yourself to them in the first place. By the time you realized you should have, they were your new family, you couldn’t imagine them turning around and hating you just because of this mistake. So whether consciously or not you weren’t sure, but you hid it, for almost 6 years, you hid it. Even as your father approached his goal, even knowing all of their families would be caught in the crossfire when he succeeded.

“You don’t need to tell me it all tonight,” Mattheo whispered in a small voice nothing like his usual cocky tone. Your bloodshot eyes met his in a pleading look as you tried to speak.

“No I do, I….I should have told you years ago, I should have told all of you years ago.” Mattheo was a smart person, he’d already guessed what your role in this was, and considering him and his father were still very much alive, he also guessed you didn’t quite play the role you were given correctly. Despite the pit in his stomach about what he’s going to have to do to protect you, he was soaring over your loyalty. The fact that you were here in front of him, and not in your fathers study, had his heart hammering in his chest. If he hadn’t already planned to marry you, he certainly would have decided to right here.

“No Gorgeous, you really don’t….I think….I think I already know.” He sighed with a soft smile as he took your chin in his thumb and forefinger, turning you to look at him with your bloodshot, teary eyes. Mattheo delicately brought the thumb of his other hand to wipe your tears away, like you were a piece of art he was preserving. His lips followed suit, pampering light kisses down both your cheeks as he whisperered, “It’s okay y/n, I know and I’m still here, I’m always going to be here.”

Your body practically fell into him as you collapsed into sobs of gratitude and relief. Mattheo’s arms wrapped around you as though it was what they were made to do, pulling you into his lap as he settled into the loveseat further. He let you sob into his neck, brushing tangles from your hair with his fingers and speaking softly of your future together in your ear until you were silently breathing deeply and lightly snoring into him.

“You’re safe Baby, you’ll never have to come back here I promise you that.” Mattheo listened to your breathing deepen as you fell into a dreamless sleep in his arms, but continued to speak, “You’re the only part of this world that matters Darling,” He nuzzled his nose into your hair as his eyelids fell, content right here with you, “I will let it all burn just for you my beautiful Angel” He let out a deep sigh as though finally stripping himself of a great burden on his shoulders, “You’re all that matters to me,” His fingers curled into you hair deeper as his hand on your waist pulled your sleeping form in closer in a protective hold.

He stayed holding you for what felt like an eternity while so short at the same time before gently rising with you in his arms, carrying you bridal style as he maneuvered through the dusty bookshelves to the door. He found your room easily, he’d been there before as a child, you and the rest of the boys had spent practically all of Winter, Spring, and Summer Holiday your First Year there. He’d never understood why you’d never invited them again, but now he saw it clearly as a form of protection. Your father likely loved the idea of the sons of all of Voldemorts best followers, and his own son, coming around his manor with their guards down.

It was much different now, the large circular bed in front of the arched window was now covered in shades of red with black pillows instead of the purples he’d remembered from years ago. The vanity directly across the bed was new as well, it’s large mirror sparkled with the reflection of the stars behind the headboard of your bed as he placed you on it. He swore you looked like a princess, the color of your dress clashing with the bed only drawing his attention to you more while he retreated to remove your heels, struggling to unclip them before tossing them aside with a huff of annoyance.

You stirred slightly as he untied the strings on the back of your dress and began softly pulling it down. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it so just draped it across a fuzzy chair in the corner with a shrug before ridding himself of his tie, suit jacket, and pants. He unbuttoned his shirt as he crawled slowly onto the bed behind you, trying his hardest to let you sleep while attempting to get his shirt on over your arms. You woke up only for a second, allowing him to slip you into his shirt as you voiced your annoyance in a few grumbled sentences before slipping back into your dreams, snuggling into his scent and giving him a warm feeling in his chest.

He found it easy to fall into a dreamless sleep, something he was never used to until you were a constant in his life. Under your blankets surrounded by your scent, he felt safe, he felt you were safe, he pulled you into his chest with a content sigh. He’d been waiting weeks to sleep beside you again, and he didn’t plan to be sleeping alone anytime soon.

The next morning Mattheo woke you with kisses to your neck and face, allowing you to adjust to the early morning light before ushering you to get dressed and ready to go. “We’re going back to Hogwarts….or anywhere you want…” Just not here, he thought, wanting more than anything to have you out of this house before your father even realized he planned to.

Repacking your trunk was much faster with Mattheo grabbing things and throwing them in before yanking it up and escorting you out of your own house. Before you recognized what was happening you were being Apparated to right outside the Hogwarts grounds and tugged through a tunnel you had no idea existed.

“Matty what is this?” The tunnel was cramped, barley enough space for the both of you as he guided you around as though he’d been there before.

“It’s a tunnel he made when he went here, not even Harry or the Weasleys know about it so we’ll be safe in here while we get back to the castle.” You didn’t need to ask who he meant by he and you definitely didn’t need to ask why he seemed to know it like the back of his hand.

“Oh” Your voice was small and meek as you started to realize he was keeping things from you too, you didn’t know whether to feel relieved that you weren’t the only one keeping secrets or worried about what he felt was too dangerous to inform you about. You knew he had unavoidable meetings with his father, you knew he had to do things to stay alive and you didn’t blame him, but it hurt you to think about the fact that you’d never really thought about what must be happening.

You’d seen his scars and fresh wounds every month, but he’d always say he had it under control and for some reason you always listened. A part if you wanted to know everything right then, while the other, much larger part, was wishing you’d run away with Mattheo when you had the chance.

After what felt like hours you emerged from behind a statue in a dimly lit corridor somewhere in the dungeons. Mattheo took your hand like it was second nature, allowing your trunk to float along behind him while escorting you to his dorm. The corridors were empty and cold, most of the remaining student body gone on holiday, the castle that used to bring comfort to generations of young witches and wizards, now held a lingering sense of danger, like something wrong was hiding just behind the corner.

And as you watched Mattheo’s focused eyes, clenched jaw, and possessive hand, you thought there just might be.

~~~~

Christmas at Hogwarts was always worth looking forward to, it gave even the most damaged of us a chance to let loose. But as you looked around the Slytherin Common room, realizing it was almost midnight on December 24th and not a single person seemed to care, you decided that just for the next 24 hours, there wasn’t a single thing wrong. You would tell everyone the truth on the 26th and everything would be okay. You were sure of it.

Even if it was just you and Mattheo, you were celebrating Christmas like you did every year. Huddled up in the boys dorm, drinking spiked hot chocolate, fighting over the best Christmas songs, and giving each other presents.

Mattheo wasn’t shocked to see you sauntering through his door with a bottle of firewhiskey and wrapped boxes as you had for the past 5 years. His heart sank slightly as he watched your eyes swivel around the un-decorated and empty dorm room.

“Wh-,” They had decorated their dorm room every year, at first it started with you bringing them little ornaments from a village by your manor your first Christmas together. By your second Christmas, Mattheo took it upon himself to buy a miniature Christmas tree. A memory you could never forget, a chilly December evening organizing only 5 ornaments along it. Arguing slightly all the way until Mattheo told the boys to just listen to you. It was one of the first moments you even realized you liked the curly headed boy.

From that year on, every member of the friend group was ensured to get at least one gift, a new ornament for the dorm tree. Which was still stuffed in it’s box under Mattheo’s nightstand. Mattheo followed your eyes to it and sighed, “I’m sorry Baby, I completely forgot to decorate this year and all the boys got an owl to come home so I did-“

“It’s okay Matty,” You gave him a soft smile as you set your bottle and packages on his bed and took your seat beside them.

“I’ll set it up now and we can decorate it together, Enzo and Blaise left some gifts behind so w-“ He stopped abruptly as you flopped backward further onto his bed with an exaggerated sigh.

“What a shame, all of your dorm mates gone and no way to be caught in the act, the horror,” You giggled slightly as your sarcasm began to settle in his mind and a smile tugged on his lip.

“Don’t act like you don’t absolutely love when we’re almost caught, I can feel how you clench around me Princess,” He stalked towards you as he leant himself against the bedposts at the end of the frame, eyeing the way you bit back a laugh and sat yourself up on your elbows.

“Okay Mr. “Scream My Name,” Your voice held an unusual mix of teasing and dominance that Mattheo wasn’t quite used to as you swayed your leg and watched while his tongue subconsciously wet his lips.

“Mmm, don’t tempt me Princess. I wanted to open presents first.” He faked a pout, watching your skirt slide up your moving thigh as your fingers moved to slowly unbutton your shirt.

“Am I not a present fit to be unwrapped Mr.Riddle?” You teased as you licked across you teeth and played at the second button on your shirt. Mattheo groaned from deep in his chest as his head fell backwards, his jaw clenched as he tried to collect himself.

“Baby, I have a plan and if you call me that again you’re gonna miss out. You don’t wanna miss out do you Gorgeous?” His eyes met yours, the dark spark you knew meant he was in control having you bite at your smile and shake your head, still slightly playing with the buttons on your shirt.

“Good girl, now come here,” Mattheo suddenly pushed off the bedposts and motioned for you to follow with a wiggle of two of his fingers.

“I thought I’d have to give these to you late but since you’re here,” Mattheo sighed happily as he pulled out a trunk from under his bed, “Sit on the edge….now.” You were slightly confused but after a second followed his orders, swaying your feet and waiting patiently as he unlocked the trunk with two loud clicks.

“Your first set,” You narrowed your eyes at him as he set two neatly wrapped black boxes beside you, both tied with a red bow. “First….set?” Mattheo only nodded his head with a happy little smile before urging you to open them with his outstretched hands. The first and smallest was expected, a delicate glass snowflake ornament hanging from a silver ribbon.

“Perfect, I can hang it on the tree when it’s set up,” You said happily as you gently set it back in it’s box, “Actually that’s gonna be the first to go on our tree.” Mattheo interjected, making you giggle up at him before realizing he was entirely serious.

“It may collect some dust while I find the perfect cottage for you,” He said with a wave of his hands, “but that’s the first place it’s going, nowhere else”

“Okay Matty, it’s decided,” You laughed as you grabbed at your, significantly less neat, golden wrapped package. Mattheo’s hand dramatically shot to his chest as his mouth dropped open, “For me?” he gasped sarcastically, ripping it from your hands as he opened it.

“Oh fuck Baby, is this the one we saw in Diagon Alley?” Mattheo’s voice was filled with excitement you rarely got to hear as he pulled out the thick silver ring with a snake tangled around the front. He haphazardly shoved it on each of his fingers before ultimately settling on his right pointer finger.

“How does it look Gorgeous?” He held up his pointer and middle finger, letting the others fall beside them as he watched you bite at your lip. “Can’t wait to find out what it’ll look like halfway inside of you…mm” He seemed to be in his own world as he eyed the ring, fitting perfectly with the other two he already wore on that hand, before shaking his head slightly, “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, your turn again.”

You shook your head, blinking rapidly with a shocked smile before reaching for the next box, his eyes lighting up to follow as though he’d just remembered what was hidden behind the wrapping paper. It was was longer and thinner than the last box, opening on a hinge to reveal a golden necklace with a heart shaped ruby dangling in the middle.

“Gods Matty….” You whispered, feeling across the necklace delicately with your fingertips. “It’s beautiful,”

“Can I put it on for you Princess?” Mattheo asked as he crawled on the bed around you, reaching for the necklace before you could answer. Clasping it quickly and leaving a kiss on the base of your neck, whispering with a confident smirk, “It has my initials carved in the middle of the heart.”

You chuckled as you felt at the pendent hanging between your collarbones, grabbing at the next package while Mattheo began kissing up and down the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his breath fanned against your cold skin. You turned in his arms, handing him his hext gift with a smile. “And here’s your ornament,” Mattheo gasped as though he was offended, snatching the package mumbling, “Don’t ruin my surprise Baby,”

“I get you one every year, besides you don’t know what’s on it, now open it,” He huffed while ripping at the messily placed tape, halting slightly, staring down at a handmade ornament in the shape of a gingerbread house. A moving picture of you and him from almost two years ago sat where the door would have been, a picture that was taken only days after he realized he was madly in love with you, something he wasn’t sure you knew. Making it ten times better.

“I’ve changed my mind, your snowflake will be the second ornament on our tree.” His gaze met yours as a smile grew on his face, laughing while gently placing it into it’s box and leaning back to set it on his nightstand. “I wanna open my last one before you get more.”

Mattheo’s voice was stern and matter of factly, taking his last present from beside you as you nervously chewed the insides of your cheek. He wasted no time ripping into it, looking between you and the box as his brows bunched together, delicately pulling out a silk red tie, “Now, no offense Darling, but red isn’t really my color,”

“No….but it is mine.” Mattheo watched as you bit your lip before looking back at the box, realization settling in as he clutched the tie hard in his hand, closing his eyes as he groaned slightly.

“You know they say great minds think alike….” He spoke after a second of gathering himself, kissing your cheek before slipping off the bed and reaching back into the trunk, retreating with two larger wrapped boxes.

“This one first,” He all but shoved the box at you, watching you intently as he bounced in front of you. You slowly unwrapped the box, delicately removing each piece of tape as Mattheo narrowed his eyes at you threateningly. “I’m gonna open it myself if you don’t hurry up.”

“Okay okay” You giggled, tearing through the rest of the paper and throwing off the lid of a deep red box. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared down at its contents, a black blindfold neatly wrapped around a set of fuzzy handcuffs, a vibrator, and a collar on a chain. Your face burned as you looked up to a now very nervous Mattheo.

“Is it too much? Do you not like the idea? We can just move on to the next one if-“ He rambled as you looked up at him with a smile, reaching into the box as he spoke.

“Is this a remote Mattheo?” You asked teasingly, biting your lip at Mattheo’s sigh of relief from your demeanor. “Hell yeah it is Baby, that’s more for me though,” He was immediately back to his regular cocky self as he snatched the remote and slipped it into his pocket.

“Saved the best for last.” Mattheo sighed, handing you the largest of the four and watching you intently. He knew exactly which would he your favorite, and knew exactly which one to save for last. You smiled brightly up to him as you pulled out the red, loose weight thigh length dress from it’s box.

“Matty! I love it, thank you,” You practically screamed as you jumped up to hug him, laughing as he lifted you up by your waist. He chuckled in your ear, wrapping your legs around him, pulling you back to look at your face.

“Anything for you Gorgeous,” He said breathlessly as he smashed his lips into yours in a passionate kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs while his tongue began exploring your mouth immediately.

“Fucking hell I love you, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me ya know that,” He growled, kissing down your neck, nipping at it aggressively as he mindlessly cleared the bed of presents, papers, and boxes before laying you down softly and crawling up your body to meet your lips again. Mattheo quickly rid himself of his shirt, pulling at yours as you slid your skirt and panties off, Mattheo cursed as he jumped from the bed to shove his sweats and boxers off. Tripping over them in a rush to join you back on the bed, falling on you slightly as you fell into a fit of laughter.

“Yeah yeah whatever, come here,” He huffed, pulling your face in to an aggressive kiss. He nipped at your lips and battled your tongue with his, your teeth knocking together as you breathed heavily into each other’s mouths. His hands trailed slowly down your sides, stopping at your hips to tug you forward, plowing into without warning, a whine of a moan fell from you as Mattheo sighed and fell into you, holding himself up on his forearms as he began softly fucking into you.

Mattheo’s lips trailed along your shoulder, stoping only to moan as you circled your hips to his slow thrusts. Your fingers found themselves tangled his hair, tugging slightly as the others trailed down his toned back with a teasing scratch. He groaned in your ear, picking up his pace only slightly as he rocked his hips into yours. He lifted his head to meet your eyes as you clenched around him, steadying himself with a hand on your hip, increasing his pace further as he watched your head fall back with a moan of appreciation.

Mattheo felt himself twitch inside you as your nails dug into his back and tugged at his hair, he wasn’t gonna last long after not having you for weeks, but he wanted you to come first. He slowed himself down to an agonizingly slow pace as you whined under him, he balanced himself on a hand beside your head as he brushed his free hand from your hip down your thigh before suddenly bringing it to rush fast circles onto your clit. Picking up his pace and falling back into your neck, licking a stripe from the base of your neck to your ear, whisperering against it’s shell as you shivered, “You like that Princess? Do you like being fucked after I spoil you?”

All you could do to respond was nod weakly as he groaned against your bruised neck, “Do you like it when Daddy treats you like a Princess?” For a second Mattheo stalled, as though he didn’t mean to let the name slip, but quickly picked up his pace as you wiggled below him with a whine of “Yes”

He looked down at you with a wild, daring smile as his eyes darkened further, “Yes what?” He growled, thrusting into you harder as you tried to speak, jumbling your words as you began to lose focus.

“Daddy, ye- Oh fuck, Yes Dadd-“ Mattheo cut you off with a wicked smile as he ruthlessly pounded into you, you were shaking with the bed as his thrusts became irregular and his fingers slowed. Your head felt dizzy as you clamped around him, feeling his cum spill inside you sending you over the edge as you screamed his name.

You came together as Mattheo collapsed on top of you. “That’s much better than our past Christmas traditions,” You sighed in a breathless voice as Mattheo’s arms snaked around your naked waist, cuddling you into him while still inside.

“I love you, and I plan to spend every Christmas I have left with you,” Mattheo whispered in a suddenly very serious tone.

~~~~

Caught VII

I hope this Isn’t weird or anything because I absolutely love it🥰🥰

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[precious-little-scoundrel]

The kids aren’t alright

Summary: Ida wakes up and takes stock

October 1943

Requested? ✅ 18+ mature (thematic material)

Warnings: a lot of bodily injuries mentioned, way too much use of vomiting sorry, mentions of an intentional dog bite, past references to sexual abuse, very brief mention of an object being used to rape someone…if you read that sentence? it’s about that bad, I tried to keep it vague

When Ida woke for the first time, well and truly and fully, it was to the feeling of muggy warmth and a comforting snugness pressing to her chest. Her body ached but only in the way that suggested that moving would make it far worse, and so she tried to remain still, clock her surroundings, its smells and noises and the likely extent of her injuries by pain alone. Her cheek hurt the worst, a raw sort of agony that increased with each breath until she switched to inhaling through her mouth to make it stop, her right rib smarted in the way of an open cut, and her mind scrambled to supply a cause for this, quicker than it had for her cheek. Most sluggishly it tried to alert her to the all encompassing throb of her pelvis, a pain too intense and easily provoked by thought alone that she summarily shoved it down for the time being.

She would try to open her eyes, and then move off her cheek, and if that was possible, only then perhaps could she shift her hips. Her lower belly felt as if filled with glass shards, and if she were to jostle them, they might begin slitting her open anew. Take a peak Ida, she told herself, see where you are, see who is near.

With that plan of action barely in place, Ida willed an eyelid open.

Foggy sunlight filtered in, wether the window pane was filthy or the weather overcast she could not discern, but there was a blurry expanse of lumber before her and as things began to slot in place she recognized the camp. Not the horrid one, no, the stalag, the prisoner of war camp -she had made it, they had all made it. Almost all, that poor corporal and her warm brains hadn’t. The nurse either. Forsyth either.

There were bunks and lumber and a fuzzy stack of dishes and someone moving in a chair at a hulking object that was likely a table.

She held her breath, hoping her vision might clear if the smarting of her cheek would stop, and in response the arms that seemed to be bracing her together squeezed all the tighter. She let out a grunt of pain at it and moved her frozen hand to tap at the large paw interlaced over her sternum.

She really shouldn't be able to guess its owner so accurately considering the professional nature of the relationship they shared, yet she could: "I see you decided to join us, Egan." she rasped, throat feeling made of sandpaper.

The iron tight grip spasmed in response before loosening. "Oh hell Ida,” Bucky sighed heavily behind her, “scared me, ya stopped breathin’, -thought you were dead there for a minute."

"So you already took over my bunk?" she was passibly amused by his presumption, it was too relieving that he was even alive.

Whoever was at the table rose and came nearer.

"No,” Bucky countered firmly, “I didn't want them to find you cold and take your body away."

That was touching. And like him. She must’ve been in poor shape. "Bucky, you've got the heart of a child."

The figure from the table stooped over her and the back of a gentle hand she’d know anywhere, ran along her hairline, “Hey.” her brother greeted softly and Ida felt a sudden burn to her eyes at the relief of seeing his cherished face and feeling his doting touch. She knew she had met him, reunited with him here, but it was such a blur and she had no idea how long she’d been out for. It hit her now, Johnny and Bucky had her. She was alright, and so were they.

“Jack.” she croaked to him, trying to kiss his knuckles in sheer gratitude to their creator for allowing them both a little longer together. “Johnny you- you’re ok? And you’ve got legs.” she reaffirmed to herself and he laughed in agreement, watery and happy.

“Yeah,” he got to his knees by her bunk so they might be at eye level, his grin the homiest thing she’d ever seen, “all in one piece. God, it’s good to see you awake, Ida. You ok? Want some water?”

She could manage a nod but was loathe to let go of him, Johnny only managed to laughingly extract himself after he’d kissed her forehead twice over and “-jug is just on the table, I’m not going far-“

“Is everyone alright?” she asked of them both as he went to fetch it, tracing over the broken skin of Egan’s knuckles, the one part of him she could see without shifting. She wondered how he’d gotten here, how long after. “Everyone? My girls are -are my girls ok?”

“All settled, all fine.” Johnny assured her as he kneeled back down, tin cup filled with the brackish camp water they’d taken to filtering through an undershirt. It was the best they had to offer. “Cleven’s got all sorts of measures in place, there’s been no trouble.”

“How long?” She sighed in relief, trying to find the strength to lift her head and take a sip. “How long have I been out?” Her girls had needed her and she’d crashed on them, they’d asked for bunks and remedies and they’d barely managed a shower before she’d abandoned them for her bed.

“Almost two weeks, Eye Eye.” Johnny whispered as if that blunted the news, Ida startled predictably and Bucky Egan made a soothing sound like she were a pet to be calmed. “You need to drink.” Johnny observed practically in reference to the timeframe and she supposed he was right and let him help tilt her jaw and bring the rim to her lips, Bucky’s hand came up from somewhere in back to prop up her heavy head.

As thirsty as she was, the bitter tang of metallic water was not at all what she had dreamed of when it first sloshed against her lips. She forced gulp after gulp of it down, grateful for it and all too reminiscent of recent times without, but it was revolting. No sooner had she pulled away to gain some upper hand on the rising nausea than she felt the surging of bile instead, faster than she could process, much less tamp down.

Something in her face must’ve shown as her observant brother tumbled backward on the floor with a flailing hand that grasped for any receptacle available, right as she wheezed out a warning “bucket!”

Her face felt horrible, and her stomach hated the rough and involuntary movements that puking required. Ida groaned weakly between bouts but it kept coming -the urge that is, after the water came up there was nothing else besides bile. Johnny had managed to grab something, although Ida was too preoccupied vomiting and keening in agony to notice what. She puked in the general direction of his lap and hoped for the best, the grounding feeling of his hand cupping her battered cheek the only thing tethering her in the pain.

For a moment Ida had the displaced thought that her brother was helping hold back her hair. But the feel of his fingertips against the lacerations on her tender scalp reminded her she hadn’t any. And that memory brought another wave of revulsion and she wretched all the harder. She was in this state, in this much plain, out cold for two weeks because of what those men had done to her. Oh god, did everyone know what they had done to her—

“Breathe, you’ve got to breathe.” Egan was gripping her chest again and it made it worse except now she could feel herself shaking and that brief, spiraling moment of numbness began to dissipate and she almost mourned it as the pain returned and she sobbed into her next retch. “That’s it, that’s it, shitty water is all, Johnny’s gonna get you some sparkling, aren’t ya Johnny? Yeah, yeah breathe Ida, breathe.”

She had to stop sobbing. It was pathetic at this point, she was perfectly safe now and all that harmed her was a little brackish water and a sour stomach. She breathed as told and blinked the water out of her eyes. “Johnny, that's a damn plate.” she scolded, now noticing what he’d grabbed, “I said a bucket.”

Johnny smiled back ruefully, “Wasn't one close.”

“Now you've got -I’ve made a mess of you,” she cried, contrite herself, “that’s disgusting.”

Johnny shrugged and set the full plate aside, brave face in place despite the gnarly nature of the incident. “Seen worse.”

Ida just stared at his lap and the odd pattern of criss cross stitches on his trouser seams and the rusty stains all along them. What had they done- “Johnny your pants-“ she didn’t even notice the way she tried to rise in her agitation until Bucky’s firm hand came again from the back like the spectral arm of God and pushed her down once again. “What did they do to you?” she was back to numb at the horror of it and this time she didn’t like it.

John Brady stared at her and then back to his lap before jerking with horrified realization, “No, no these -these are yours.” he rushed, utterly unsure that was actually a comfort, wishing in fact that they were his and he’d have borne their significance for her, “I gave you mine while we mended yours. Now they’ve got vomit on ‘em too.” he tried to grin, to make the joke they were his work pants now, best used for the grittier duties in camp, an eyesore no matter what and rather talked of. He preferred to be the one wearing them, the one talked of instead of her, it was all untrue speculation in that case and the guards’ taunts were empty and without real history while he wore them. “These are yours.”

“You two lanky lil shits.” Bucky mumbled to break the tension. “Not an ounce of butter fat on either of you.”

“Are you done puking?” Johnny asked her conversationally.

“I think.” she muttered.

“Ok, put your head back down. Can’t keep holding your cheek.”

“Don’t have to,” she protested even as she lay back down, face on fire by the lack of incline, “the hell is wrong with it?” she groaned.

“The doc says your cheekbone’s broken.” Egan supplied.

A flash of a table rising up too fast and her cheek slammed down against it, of a hand in her hair and a man, one of many strong and large men, pressing down on her head over and over, the pressure on her face too strong and finally making way with a sickening give just like other places had given way when they— Ida felt like retching again but for Johnny’s sake she was glad nothing more came up, although his hand was back to holding her cheek together.

“The recommendation was not to exert the facial muscles.” Johnny snarked.

Ida willed her mind away, “Noted.” and began to wonder at how this camp worked, “What sorta doctor?” it seemed odd no one had hauled her off for two whole weeks, not to a grave and not to surgery. Maybe not that odd, Egan had been in her bunk. And Cleven would have never let them. But she’d have never allowed so many things and yet -they happened all the same.

“There’s that med student pilot from the 418th,” Egan told her, “everyone calls him doc around here since we haven’t got any medics. Shitty oversight in the air, fatal on the ground. It’s him or camp doctor, and we didn’t want him gettin’ curious over you.”

“Major Cleven wouldn’t let them take you.” Johnny told her what she already suspected and Ida felt like smiling despite the way it hurt her cheek.

“Everyone’s really alright?” she asked once more.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine.” her bother swore, “Except for you, you’re our biggest worry.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t use that tone with me.”

“Then don’t lie.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, but you’re not currently fine.”

“You and your distinctions.”

“You and the pants you’ve worn for two weeks.”

Ida gaped, knowing and loving his sharp tongue but having missed it all the same, “Well that’s -that’s low, Jack.”

“I’ll get Smith in.” he decided after sharing a look with Bucky over her shoulder, she wished she could see Egan’s face, something made her suspect foul play beyond boredom for him to be in her bunk. “You haven’t stopped -bleeding.” he winced, wether in sympathy or in discomfort over the topic, she could only guess it was both.

“Well get me up, sit me up.” she asked first, her curiosity regarding her own damage growing and she didn’t need dear Tallulah to see her freshly puked and still lying like a corpse. She could sit up if she was going to remain conscious. “It’ll make the cheek feel better.” She cajoled her brother in the most effective manner -logic- and so he assisted her to sit up against the slats.

“Bucket.” she warned again because her vision was spotting and her stomach rose at the painful change in position but it felt good to be up, and Johnny handed her an actual bucket to dry heave over. The irony was not lost on her.

When the feeling passed she found she was looking down at Egan, that he hadn’t moved with her and he still lay on his side, garish green bruise around his eye and a grimacing smile stretching that still pristine mustache. Well, it needed some trimming at the corners, her fingers itched to straighten them. “Ribs are a little cracked.” he offered in explanation before she could ask.

“Yeah he’s not supposed to move much.” Her Johnny expounded and Ida didn’t doubt this was a source of much argument between them, she could tell by the familiar, bitchy tone and the look Johnny gave his superior, one just short of wry enough to get him court martialed. Ida realized with sudden sobriety that she would be stuck in close proximity with this duo for the foreseeable future.

Mother Mary give her grace.

“Where do you pee?” she asked, it was a decent segue and it was also a pressing issue, mounting over even the horrible ache down there.

“Uh,” Johnny floundered for a minute, “pretty loose around here but -there are latrines.” Ida could picture the sheer amount of pissing against stumps and combines that likely occurred here instead, “You’re not walking there, not today. We’ve got buckets, girls use those mainly.”

Ida stared at the bucket clutched in her arms, still there in case of another upset. Right, alright. Buckets.

“Brady, get Smith.” Egan directed helpfully and her brother roused himself and went out into the hall.

Ida waited until the sound of his footfalls faded thoroughly before bringing her hand down to rest on Bucky’s shining forehead, he felt feverish, or maybe it was only oily. “How is he?” she asked. “Really, Bucky, how is he handling it all?”

“He’s a champ.” Bucky replied levelly, before giving her a gentle look, “A champ who’s cried a few times. I’ve been giving him too much trouble to ask him what he thinks about having a battered sister, if that’s what you mean. But he’s ok, you know him. He’s okey.”

“Alright.” she muttered, staring down at her lap, noticing the stains she’d made on his trousers. Poor Jack, she didn’t know how she could bear it if it were the other way around.

Bucky waited a beat before adding softly, “He asked me what to tell your parents.”

That startled her, the idea of letters, of news, of more than anyone here knowing, “What did you-?”

“I told him to tell them you’re alive.” he answered and she took a great breath, “And that you two were together. The facts of the matter.”

Well that was another kindness. “Thanks.” she managed.

“Hey, you just worry about gettin’ better.” He charged her, hand nudging gently under her chin, mindful of the bruises.

She gave him a grin despite her cheek protesting, “Back at ya, Egan.”

“Race ya?” he suggested.

“Race to what?”

“To the latrines. Whoever can get fit fastest wins. I’m sick to fuckin’ death of pissing in a can he wants to hold like I’m past ninety and should be put out to pasture -now you’re awake it’s gonna be even funner.”

Ida thought about asking if he’d really been relieving himself in bed beside her, to ask who’d been cleaning her in the meantime, but some familiarity was best left mysterious and the stomping sounds of approaching persons made her pause.

“Great, he brought a crowd.” Bucky muttered without heat and sure enough, Smith came skidding in like Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb, and behind her Johnny, Cleven and Graham.

“Ta-daa.” Ida vocalized weakly, feeling mildly possessed by the spirit of Kendeigh to make a drama of it all -it was only that they looked so ridiculously hopeful and small crowding the doorway like that.

Gale slapped the doorframe and buried his face in the crook of his arm, something like a rough laugh coming out, “I’ll be damned.”

“Well Graham, you’ve seen her breathing, go, come on go, we asked for Smith.” Bucky good naturedly snapped his fingers dismissively.

“Good to see you Graham.” Ida called to her poor Co-Pilot who was fast not to loiter.

Tallulah Smith gently crept up to her bunk and sank to her knees beside her, sweet face still a little mottled but the old pearl white smile in place. Missing a tooth. A jolt of heartache ran through her— “Ida.”

“Hey old thing.” Ida smiled back, or tried.

“God it’s good to see -to see you.” Smith settled for before dropping her face to kiss Ida’s unwashed hands. Poor kid, Ida was sure Cleven was looking after her but he didn’t know the half of it. All these weeks she was needed and Ida had failed her.

“Hey, hey you guys get me up, I’m getting cramp.” Bucky hollered to Brady and Buck.

“You’re not supposed to move Bucky-“

“Johnny -I’m not going on a goddamn journey. I just wanna walk in the hall and piss on the doorframe like everyone else. C’mon get me up.”

Ida and Smith crouched further into the bed to allow Egan to lumber over them with the help of their friends, a painful, grunting business that suggested his leg was busted along with his ribs. He was leaving to give the girls privacy, Ida knew it, and perhaps her brother had picked up on it as he stopped protesting and shouldered his weight uncomplaining.

“See you dolls later.” he saluted as they dragged him out.

It was bizarre to have the room to themselves when the door shut. The door had a window, and that gave Ida the creeps but it couldn’t be helped.

“They aren’t going out, they’ll stand watch.” Smith whispered assuringly as if she could read Ida’s mind. “We’re all in this combine with just one’s from the 100th. Cleven insisted. I don’t know how he gets half of what he gets done but he’s been so good to us.”

Ida stared at her hands intertwined with Lu’s and nodded gently, never doubting that would be the case. She just worried for him, she hoped it meant their guards were fair, or at least the commandant. But she recalled Cleven saying he’d stayed clear of the fellow, kept his head down, not sought attention -until the girls came, now he no doubt made himself familiar. It made her pulse pound in worry for him. She hoped the commander was fair, that was the whole point of getting to a stalag.

“And you?” Ida asked, knowing that of everyone, Smith was perhaps the only one who’d like to be asked.

She watched the girl perk up, brave cheerfulness fluttering across her features, no less genuine for all that it was forced, “I’m ok. It’s easier here but I can’t sleep much, and I’m so scared it’s going to happen again. There’s dogs everywhere.”

Ida winced at that. “Cleven won’t let that happen.” she insisted gently, “You stick with who he puts you with and if they don’t stick with you then you tell him, he’ll get someone else. Really Smith, speak up.”

“Ok.” she muttered, “It’s been Murph or Crank so far, they’re never away.”

“Good.”

“It’s just-“ Smith’s deep brown eyes grew watery and Ida braced, “-what can they do? If the Germans really wanna? What can they actually do about it? I don’t think -oh Ida I don’t think I could take it, the way they did it in front of you -I couldnt take it, not in front of our boys. I’d wanna die this time, I would. I’d wanna die.”

It hurt, the heavy pressure of Smith’s face buried in Ida’s wounded belly, but the poor girl was suddenly sobbing and Ida impulsively ran her fingers through oily black strands, humming gently and ineffectively. What was there to say about that? What could she say to that? “Everyone here would die before watching that, Lu.” was all she could come up with, but it was true as truth could be. “And they can’t shoot up a whole stalag, they can’t,” she went on, it was soothing to hear herself spout such ephimerally comforting bulshit, “so, if they tried, that’s a dead end. Not gonna happen ever again, Smith, it won’t. We won’t let it.”

Smith turned her head, looking not a day older than her eighteen years and smiled back, soft and sad, “Ok.” she accepted, and Ida knew it was more for her benefit than real belief, “I just worry someone is gonna still have to-“ she quieted down in frustration with herself, “-sorry I’m so glum.”

Ida squeezed her hands strongly, “No, no, you’re right. It’s very uneasy, and it will be for as long as we’re on this side of our lines. What were you saying?”

Smith bit her lip thoughtfully before quietly confessing, “I worry someone else may still have to. The guards aren’t as bad but they seem -I’m paranoid, I know. But I also -oh Ida, I shouldn’t say. He said I shouldn’t say but-“ she was back near to crying.

“Telling your senior officer is like telling a priest.” Ida reasoned softly, teasingly, “There is no harm and there is no record.”

“I’m Baptist.” Smith laughed.

“Unburden yourself, my child.” Ida insisted, mouth wry with sad humor. “That’s an order, Lu.”

“It’s Major Cleven.” Smith got right to it, “I’m afraid someone hurt him. The way they hurt us. Before we got here. And I’m worried if that person is here, I’m worried that- I’m worried that it’ll be someone, if not me again, it’ll be someone else.”

“You’re not paranoid.” Ida muttured, cold dread seeping in along with fury, she counted to five before asking as casually as she was capable, “When he told you not to tell, what -what all did he say?”

“Not much, really,” Tallulah admitted with frustration, “it’s just he came to check on me, first night in and we were alone in the hall and I told him a little, since he asked, he’s always so kind and he was kind then. But he told me he understood, and then right away it was like he regretted it. Saying that, you know? And I asked him, if they’d hurt him like that and -h-he was so shaken by it, and he told me I shouldn’t ever talk like that. He didn’t said no, he just kept saying I couldn’t say that. About him.”

Ida felt her stomach plummet and she clutched at the bucket as if there was anything left to puke up.

“Ida I’m sorry- I should've waited.” Tallulah fretted at her agitation.

“No!” Ida’s voice came stronger than even she expected, “No you’re right to tell me. I’m his officer too, you know. You’re right to tell me.” she repeated before trying to straighten herself, make Smith look her in the eyes, “And now, Lieutenant, I need you to let this go, alright? Really, you’ve done the right thing now, give it over, let it go. He might not have meant that, might’ve meant anything, really. Try not to dwell on it. Any of it, if you can.”

Smith rubbed her hand beneath her nose gruffly while murmuring a “yessir.” She was back to smiling when the hand descended. “Now, what can I help with?” she asked, cheered at the chance of lending aid.

“I need to pee.”

“Oh gosh, sorry-“ Smith laughed at herself and her poor timing for a confession.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” Ida joined in, “This is going to hurt like hell, I do believe.”

Smith winced in sympathy, “Yeah, still hurts for me.”

“No, truly?” Ida mourned through gritted teeth, depending on Smith’s arms to scootch to the edge of the threadbare mattress.

“Yeah. A little better after a week but not, it’s just -it’s stayed since. You’re still bleeding, though.”

Ida stared down at her bloodied crotch. “Yes.” she hissed, “I’d like to -take a look. Any mirror: in here?”

“No sir. Sorry.”

“Anyone else bleeding like this?”

“No one besides Kendeigh, got her period.” Smiths cheeks turned pink at the mention of normality.

“Ah, small mercies.”

“Yes. Try telling her that, sir.”

“Have you gotten yours, Lu?”

“No sir.” Pinker still under that dusky brown.

“Mm.”

“I could check?”

“What?”

“I could be your mirror.” Smith clarified, sheepishly as she got Ida up, arm around her neck, her officer about crumpling at the pain of standing.

Ida grimaced again at the mere notion. “Bit above your pay grade.”

“I’m a lieutenant.” Smith shook her head proudly before adding, “Besides -nothing I haven’t seen on the farm.”

“Oh thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t mean-“

“Joking, Smith, I’m joking.”

“Oh. Ha.”

“I’d not be so concerned,” Ida went on, shuffling towards the bucket in the corner of the room where it sat between two bunks, “if I didn’t suspect a little -tearing.” she muttered, humiliation burning her cheek and adding to the throb. “There was a, uh-“ god, she shouldn’t tell a subordinate this but they hadn’t any mirrors, “there was a knife. And, I-i- think they, it wasn’t the blade but the handle and it -still it felt like…Well, everything got even worse after that.”

“Oh Ida.” Smith whimpered in compassion.

“Oh stop it, you of all people don’t need to feel bad for me.” Ida squeezed her shoulder, the one supporting her weight. “It’s just I really don’t know what to expect. What’s normal. Yes? To bleed is normal, we always hear that but. How long, how much, you know? My brother seems to think it’s too much. How would he know?” she snickered briefly before ceasing at the sight of Smith’s solemn face. Ida was reminded of when she’d first met her as a little recruit, keen eyed and perceptive in training, Tallulah Smith had been so freshly out of the nest she’d delightedly blown up her standard issued rubbers and tossed them around their hut, charmed by the army’s thoughtfulness to provide balloons along with toothbrushes. Not even the worst of the cads had said a thing to dissuade her and Benny DeMarco had followed suit, even going so far as to lie that he’d been additionally given bubbles since he was more senior.

When the day came that Bucky had pinned Smith her single bar on her jacket, he handed her a tube of bubbles, too.

Five weeks before it all went to hell.

Now Smith wore a shy little look, one Ida remembered well from when she’d had to break it to the girl what the damn balloons were really for. Today, if it were anyone else, Ida would have ignored that look.

“What do you want to ask?” She called her out.

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

Smith helped her fumble with her belt buckle, trousers loose and low on her waist, not even Johnny’s trim figure a match for the weight Ida had lost in her convalescence. “Was this-“ Ida could only see Smith’s eyebrows and the beautiful flat bridge of her proud nose, “-was this your first, too?”

Ida had never once felt shame, inadequacy, anything other than a natural state over her own purity. It was a conscious decision and a matter of habit, she might have disposed of her virginity had she wished but she never had, never saw fit, never felt the lack of knowing. There were handsome men, and if they were worth the loss of her convictions, her standing and self respect, she might have enjoyed hopping on them as her baser first instincts suggested. As is, she had not, and life had felt perfectly fine and full without that knowledge. One day, she had told herself, maybe one day there’d be someone right and worthy and fitting. Suddenly it felt so very embarrassing to have known nothing more than this, to pretend authority and yet not even know this intimate response of her own body. She could still hear the disbelieving glee of the guards at the same realization.

A female colonel. Who was a virgin. What a lark.

Yet if it served to comfort Smith? Provide some solidarity not even Maureen’s brazen bravery could supply? Ida meant to give it her. “Yes, my first. I’ve never done anything of the sort before.” it served to be plain, to be thorough.

She was rewarded with the lifting of Lu’s face, mournful shyness fading into relief before compassion flickered again. “How do you want me to look?”

Ida ended up propping a foot up on an adjacent bunk, slacks around her ankles, face buried in her elbow as Smith crouched with veterinary efficiency and peeled her apart down there. Ida stifled an involuntary whimper into her fist, not so much from pain as the jolting feeling of that area being touched again.

“I honestly can’t tell much.” Smith sighed, standing up again and it took Ida a good long minute to regain enough composure to pull her face out of her elbow and meet her eyes. Smith wasn’t looking at her anyway, “It’s bloody. But not a lot. I can’t tell about tearing, not on the outside at least.”

“Alright.”

“Here, let me help you squat.” Smith was at the ready with strong arms for Ida to squat over the bucket and do her business, as best she could between sobs at the pain of urinating with some much adjacent damage.

“Are Kendeigh’s hands alright?” Ida thought to ask once Smith had helped pull her up. Piss and blood swirled at the bottom of the metal pail, it turned Ida’s stomach, a foreign queasiness having seemingly settled over her.

“I had to set a few fingers,” Smith replied, “Hammy helped me. But the swelling is going down.”

“Good.” Ida muttured, redoing her belt with Lu’s help, “Now,” she stalled the girl, “how’s the bite mark?”

Smith’s bronze face flushed darker. No doubt she hoped Ida had forgotten, no such luck -Ida expected to replay that scene a million times in her nightmares for the rest of her life.

“Your brother got us penicillin.” Lu rushed to assure her.

“Did he?”

“Yes!”

“How nice. Shots?”

“Yes.” Smith smiled brilliantly, “The boys they’ve -they’ve been so wonderful.”

“Excellent.” Ida agreed.

“Major Cleven said we could-“ Smith’s eyes fluttered aside, “-could get sick from the guards. I didn’t know but -he said the shots would help.”

Ida clasped her arm soothingly, squeezing it until the girl’s eyes came back to life, “He’s right. Good to take precautions. What've they said about the bite?

No answer came. Of course the girl hadn’t even told them. Ida could curse herself for falling asleep so long on the job.

“How’s the bite, Lu?” she insisted on being answered.

Smith sighed, defeated, “It’s -a little festered.”

“How much is a little?” Ida quirked a brow. “C’mon, show me.”

Lu begrudgingly undid her buttons and pulled the placard aside, showing the deep imprint of a canine bite to her breast. Partly healed but angry and hot to touch, Ida suspected it strongly. At least it didn’t smell. “Have you been seen for this?” she asked once more.

Smith shook her head. “They say the doctor is not good.”

“How’d Jack get penicillin then?”

“Well -I don’t know. But he told me never to go.”

Ida resigned herself to feeling perpetually on the verge of emptying her guts in this place. “You either need more or some sulfer, I’d say, but then, I’m no doctor.”

“The boys have been wonderful!” Lu reaffirmed as if that changed anything while refastening her shirt. Ida shuffled back to the bed and sat herself down too fast, wanting to let rip a scream at the pain. “Gale looks after us and Jack gets the medicines and Bucky has been so watchful even from bed and Crank and Murph -I told you how they’ve been so good to me.”

Ida summoned a smile for the girl. The things she was concerned about were an officer's concerns, it was right for Smith to be soothed by stuff like this, it was right she be taken good care of. Whatever it cost the men, whatever it cost her brother. She forced her smile to stay in place. “Good.” Ida confirmed assuringly, “I’m glad to hear it. As they should be. You know that, don’t you? They should be good to you, and it’s not too much to expect that they should.” she let that sink in a minute before adding her point, “Some men aren't, and that’s why we're here in the first place. -And, personally, I like to think about how many of those scumbags we’ve turned to crisps, you and I. Job well done, mm?”

Smith grinned back, “Yes sir, job well done.”

“Mm, alright, now you go get Gale Cleven for me.”

“Sir.” Lu seemed torn, half alarmed.

“I’m not going to broach that topic, I need medicines.” Ida gave her a warning look, too much questioning on her sick bed and she’d turn into nothing more impressive than a half starved woman with no rank.

“Yes sir. I’ll get him sir.”

“And when you’ve fetched him,” Ida went on, “Go make certain Bucky is off his ribs. No baseball, no big movements, not even to retell a story. Got it?”

“I got it.”

“Alright, off you go. And Smith,” she added when the girl was near the door, “thank you, for the care. And speak up, alright? When you need something, speak up.”

Smith ducked her head sheepishly, nodding in obedience, “Sir.”

It would seem Ida needed a word with Gale Cleven regarding tough little lieutenants with a tendency for sepsis.

A solitary set of footsteps broke the eerie silence left after Smith's departure. Ida took stock of the room as best she could, who seemed to be bunking with them, what clutter was on the shelves, that the dishes were indeed stacked as she imagined on waking. She heard the rap of his knuckles on the door frame before the lanky line of him sauntered in, hand on the overhead plank, just looking at her pleased and a little mischievous. Gosh he was a sight for sore eyes and a heart aching one all at once. Where he’d once been golden and blooming, he was as gray as his shirt. How would they fare in winter if they started autumn so sallow?

“Major Gale Cleven, reporting for duty.” he teased, somber gray eyes lit up boyishly like they did when he wanted to be taken at the jokes’ value.

Ida grinned back at him as best she could with her broken cheek, “Bucky not follow you?”

“Nah,” Cleven came in, picking a chair up by its slatted back and bringing it to her bedside, straddled it, “he heard I was called for. He’s plagued you enough.” Nothing dimmed that fond smile despite the exasperated words.

“Cannot believe he took over my bunk.” Ida observed.

Gale’s smile fell. “Really didn’t know if you were gonna make it, Ida.” he insisted gently, firmly. “Are ya now?”

Ida wanted to chuckle, feeling more horrible than she knew she could but after all this time she wasn’t going to die on him now. Not now she knew how needed she was. Remained needed. How much he’d endured, possibly, she had to remember it was only possible. “I’m sticking around.” she affirmed, and his smile came back, dimmer but still there. “And you?” she asked, not expecting the truth but she had to try.

The upbeat grin that painted his face was worthy of an Oscar. “Fine. Much better to see you alive, John too. Both of you been out for ages.”

“Sorry about that.” she feared more and more what burdens he had to bear alone, and what precedent that set for the remainder of their time here. Once Gale Cleven had shouldered a responsibility, he wasn’t one to delegate, even if overtaxed. “How is the commandant? Smith has told me what you’ve achieved.”

Cleven’s face wore an expression of pleasant surprise as if he were relaying pleasant findings for the first time, “Most decent German I’ve met.” His tone held such genuine relief that Ida had to believe him. “Supplies are scarce. They've shot enough of us down in short enough order it’s all a bit much for the Red Cross.” he let that dismal statistic hang for a brief moment before rallying, “But he’s fair, shares my low opinion of his subordinates. No real incidents but, they leer and they’re harsh. No girls can go out alone, I’ve laid the order down. Been no harm.”

Ida observed him, familiar chubby cheeked crinkling with what seemed genuine pleasantness, and she had gotten rather genius at deciphering that boyish face after years of training and laconic friendship. “What does he want in return?” she asked.

“Order.” Gale had an answer right away, “He’s got a massive thing going here, he wants order and he wants no complaints about females. So, I want the girls accompanied -he wants them accompanied. It works.”

Maybe there was honor among villains after all. “Good. How’s Maureen?”

Gale bit his lip before shrugging, “Alright, settling in, getting everyone else settled. We got shots for everyone and she’s had us cleaning the place, fussing about wintertime and how all the water to mop will freeze up then. Hands aren’t back fully.” he paused for a brief moment before glancing up, shyly, “You got any explanation for those?”

No more than he had given for his cuts. “She’s told you. As much as she’s told me. I don’t think anyone hasn’t got a story. Or ten.”

“Bucky’s having trouble with that.” It was a comment, not a warning or a complaint.

She might’ve guessed. “And my brother? He proving of any use?”

Gale’s pale skin seemed to color at that and his eyes skittered to the side, briefly, before he recalled himself, “He’s a damn bulldog with a task. Been -been real essential.”

“With the doctor I hear.” Ida ventured, “Smith told me.” and Gale nodded in understanding, “She also told me she’d been warned never to go herself. Which brings up a few issues.”

“Colonel?” Gale frowned at her like something she said was puzzling.

“I’ve got girls who need to see a doctor. Should be in the infirmary -hell I oughta be.”

Cleven just shook his head, “They tolerate the girls here, so long as you’re not anything more than a number. Ida, we can’t attract attention that way. We got shots, Johnny’ll get more. He’ll get -Anything.”

“And how’s Johnny gonna get ‘anything’ for me, mm?”

Cleven didn’t have an answer for that, he just looked terribly tired. “Tell us, we’ll get it but I can’t condone lettin’ a woman go there.”

Ida tried to settle her stomach, a laundry list of worries a mile long had begun to arrange themselves in her mind and by the size of Cleven’s eyebags, he carried them too. She had to prioritize, if only she wasn’t so very tired and practically an invalid. “Then I need your promise to be tenacious in the care of someone who ought’ve been in hospital weeks ago.”

He cocked his head to the side, alarm at the unknown flitting across his face, he looked her up and down as if anticipating she would name herself.

“Smith has what looks like a raging infection.” Ida stated.

Well that got him startled, confused and a little irate. His blue eyes widened, “Looks like.” he repeated. “-where? From what?”

“And she’s not told a soul.” Ida observed with an eyebrow that only slightly accused, it was lethal enough on Gale’s frail morale, “As she’s a stubborn thing and also -shy.”

Gale knew Lu to be both. He had taken pains to ask after her the night she came in with that express suspicion in mind. “I asked her.” He swore.

“She says she asked you the same.” Ida bounced the hypothetical tennis ball right back, quite casually she thought, and Gale gave her a wary, unreadable look. There went that topic for the present, Smith had to come first. “No, this is a dog bite. More like a maul, a gash, it’s horrid.”

“What?” The chair under Gale creaked from his irate posture. “They let loose a dog on her!”

“Set.” Ida corrected, straight mouth going even sourer, “They set a dog on her. Now it’s hot and pink and awful. Since she didn’t tell a soul and no one noticed somehow.”

“I-I-“ Gale wasn’t in a fluster to defend himself, Ida knew him better than to think that, he was merely in some disbelief at the cruelty, “I- gave her a shot, in the hip. Didn’t see-“

“It’s her breast, Gale.” Ida gently interjected, “Reasonable not for her to be eager to show. But it must’ve been stubborn pride or some assumption of a better lot that had her keeping it from Maureen.”

Gale took to pinching the bridge of his nose, a nervous tick Ida knew well, and it served to steady his hand, pinch away a budding migraine and hide the tell-tale windows of his eyes. “They set a dog on her -on her, to- and it tore her?” he couldn’t even get it out and she felt for him.

But he had the right of it. “Yes. And it needs something. Sulfer ointment? I don’t know. It’s why a doctor would be preferred. It could get septic-“

“I know damnit!” Gale still shaded eyes from her as his voice shook. “Why didn’t she-“ it trailed off, weary and rough.

Ida pursed her lips and swallowed back a dozen things she wanted to say: apologies and reassurances, demands that he tell her what he himself had endured. “I’m sorry you’ve got so much to be done.” she offered instead, mildly and with some gentleness she hoped she’d retained. “I’m sure Kendeigh will be a great help with this. I only ask you keep after Smith about it-“

“-I don’t mind the work.” Gale lifted his hand at last and his eyes were red rimmed, “You know I don’t mind the work.”

“No.” she agreed. It was only the sort of work. It was the hapless, thankless, hopeless work of piecing together friends who had been intentionally smashed to bits by a handful of demons. It was never about the work. “And you are to bring as much of it to me as you can. That’s an order, Major.” At least that got her a small smile, a conceding nod, “And I have my spies, you know.”

“Oh I know.”

“I can’t wait to be about. Help with it all.”

“Just try’n live Ida, if you can.” Gale laughed, short and clipped, “Seemed a lot to ask of ya just last night. Don’t wanna push my luck.”

“I’ve ordered you to push your luck.” she reminded. “And now, don’t you think it’s time we stop Bucky from thinking of things to keep everyone outside?”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow (i finally thought of a title for this)

part 1, prev part

cw: blood

The hospital gets louder and louder by the second. More and more people getting brought into the waiting room, nurses running around to make the tough decision of who needs care and who can come back later. Screaming ensuing when they are told that the pain in their shoulder can wait until the emergency shelters are set up and that those who are bleeding or have broken bones are more important. But even those aren’t as important as the person placed on the gurney, being rushed into surgery.

Dustin knows that it’s out of his hands now. That Eddie is alive enough for it to make a difference. For the chances of a successful surgery to swing right over fifty. A fifty percent chance he’ll see his friend again. Where the blood can be washed off his clothes and be forgotten as long as Dustin keeps his eyes open. Eddie’s dying smile imprinted on the back of his eyelids.

The fifty is a number that Dustin made up. Overheard the doctor say about someone who could very possibly not be Eddie, but he ran with it. Eddie’s a fighter, he proved that in his last moments. Stupid as he was, to run fighting without backup. But he was always a fighter, never a runner. Even if he didn’t quite believe that recently. Dustin knew it in his heart. He just had to figure out a way for Eddie to believe it too.

Maybe then, he’ll stay alive.

“Dustin, you’re next,” Steve says, breaking Dustin away from staring at the swinging hospital doors.

“What, no,” Robin protests. “You need to go back Steve, you’re bleeding again.”

Dustin looks down to Steve’s waist, where the makeshift bandage loosely holds together his broken flesh. Still awaiting an answer how it got there in the first place. Among the spatters of green camouflage, there are patches of dark red. Something’s wrong.

“It’s not mine, we know that. Dustin.” Steve grabs Dustin’s shoulder while he tries to catch a nurse’s attention.

“I’m fine, Steve,” he tries to fight. The pain in his ankle screaming as he tries to stand straight. Tries to prove he’s ok. “See, I’m standing fine.”

Steve scoffs. “And totally not wincing in pain. You need an X-ray, to make sure it’s not broken.”

Nancy comes back from talking to the nurse who helped take Max back, having gotten here before Eddie did. “I felt it before we split up again. It didn’t feel broken.”

“You may be smart, but you’re no doctor.” Steve continues to try to find anyone to take a look at Dustin.

He can notice the wince every time Steve tries to breathe. The patches of red are growing.

“No, I’m not,” Nancy snaps. “But I’m smart enough to know that my torn shirt makes for a shitty band aid. And while it might have been enough then, it is clearly not enough now. You strained yourself while carrying him out of there and it tore open your wounds. Just look at your clothes.”

“Not my blood,” Steve repeats through his teeth. “Excuse me,” he says to a passing nurse. “My friend here had a bad fall, can you check that his ankle doesn’t need anything serious.”

The nurse nods, having Dustin sit on a chair.

“Seriously, Steve. I’m fine. We’re fine. You’re the one that’s not fine here.”

The nurse feels around Dustin’s ankle. “Doesn’t feel like anything’s broken. Someone will find you some tape to wrap it in until we can give it an x-ray to make sure. Try to keep weight off of it for now.”

“Thank you,” Dustin emphasizes, looking up at Steve with a cocky expression. Being right and all.

But it fades as soon as Dustin sees the white of Steve’s face. He’s struggling to breath, gripping the back of a chair with a white knuckles grip.

“Steve,” Robin says alarmed. Grabbing his shoulder and trying to get him to respond. “Steve, what’s wrong?”

Steve pants, trying to get a word out but can only fight to inhale another breath. Nancy rushes to the front desk to get them to phone a doctor.

No one needs to protest to them because Steve just drops. The blood from his clothing starting to seep onto the floor.

“Steve,” Robin yells as she crouches down, reaching to check his pulse. “Someone get a doctor.”

Dustin sits there in shock. Feeling more helpless than he has in years. Frozen, stuck to his chair. As his heart fills his ears and the rest of the room becomes muddy. Movement flashes before his eyes.

A gurney gets brought over; Steve’s limp body laid on it while nurses say a mess of medical jargon to each other. Wheeling him behind the double doors, right up to the surgery suites. Paperwork getting thrown into Nancy’s hands, her and Robin filling in the blanks so it can get started.

Dustin’s only seen Steve pass out once before. At the Byers when Billy hit his head so hard it knocked him out. Where the only way to get Billy to stop was for Max to stab him with a sedative. But that could be fixed with bags of frozen peas, wet rags, and colorful bandages. Then, he knew Steve was going to wake up again.

This. This was far beyond anything Dustin’s ever seen. He’s seen the black eyes, the split lips. Being drugged and the red marks of rope around his wrists. But never this much blood. Never this white. Never this scary.

Somehow, Dustin gets back home. He remembers his mom coming to the hospital, wrapping up his foot in a makeshift brace. Robin helping her get him to the car. He remembers protesting. Wanting to stay until Steve and Eddie made it out of surgery. Until Max’s bones were reset. Robin told him it was too crowded for people just waiting around. It was better for him to be at home than taking a chair from someone who needed it.

But what about her? What about Nancy? Weren’t they going to stay? They didn’t seem like they were going to leave. The day had been long. They were running on fumes and whatever adrenaline hadn’t crashed yet. They all needed sleep, they needed to go home too. But Robin turned right around and went through the hospital entrance again. Leaving Dustin out of the loop.

He’s not just some kid who doesn’t know anything. He deserves to stay. Steve was like a brother to him, like family. Bound by a pact. “You die, I die.” Why should Steve have to die when Dustin’s safe at home in his own bed?

Dustin sends out a message on the radio when he gets home. To let whoever is listening know he’s safe. Lucas radios back that him and Erica made it home safe. They’re still shaken up, and Erica is hiding behind her locked bedroom door. But they’re safe.

Twice in one day, two people Dustin loves put themselves at risk in the name of keeping him safe. Of helping him. Like he’s some child on the sidelines who can’t do anything for himself. Which isn’t true. Dustin’s not twelve years old wandering around the woods looking for his lost friend anymore. Spinning in circles to try and find out why his compass wasn’t working.

That was still dangerous. Throwing rocks at the Demogorgon was dangerous. And he was fine. Traumatized, but fine. He wasn’t some dumb kid who needed constant protecting. He didn’t need to be put above his friends just because of his age.

Especially when it is the reason both of them are in the hospital right now.

When Dustin lays down to sleep that night, he ends up staring at the ceiling. The lights of the hospital blinding him every time he closes his eyes. The face of fear Steve made right before he dropped. The blank look of Eddie’s eyes as he took his last breath.

Both of them might still be alive. Both of them might be dead. But he won’t know that until the morning because he’s here instead of the hospital. Here in a bed where he can’t sleep because all he can think of is the possibilities of what could be happening in that operation room. What could be happening in that hospital across town. What happened right before his eyes and terrified him to the very bone.

For two people who did everything just to make sure he was safe, they didn’t think about what would happen as he saw the consequences of those actions right before his very eyes. At this point, Dustin would much rather prefer a hospital bed and a few bites of his own than to wonder if his friends are still alive.

Next part

Note: Chapter one of this fic is now posted on ao3, if you wish to follow it there. The first chapter is the first four parts, the Wayne POV, the next will be the section of Dustin POV's, and so on. I am also changing the main tag for this from morgan's wayne pov to #chills right to the marrow fic, since that is now the title.

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[4sh-n4]

Scenario for a Batman Identity Reveal™-

Takes place before Batman has revealed his identity. The rest of the JL know each other's identities, except Batman's. They've just received news of a threat against Bruce Wayne.

Maybe a rogue or an intergalactic enemy or someone has found out that Bruce Wayne funds a majority of the League and thinks that killing him will severely weaken it. Fair enough, I mean it's easier to kill a civilian known to be an idiot as compared to the greatest heroes, right?

So now obviously the JL feel obligated to protect him. They don't particularly want to do it, and usually they'd just set up police protection, but everyone knows how corrupt Gotham police are, and Wayne is being targeted bc of them. They'd ask Batman, but he only comes out at night and has publicly expressed disdain for Bruce. So they've got to do it themselves.

They take it in shifts, and while Wayne seems very welcoming on the outside, it's a little obvious that he doesn't want them poking around his house. In addition, the first night they were on shift, Batman gave them a very strict warning about what is and isn't allowed in his city. He tried to get them to leave, but they overruled him.

At first, Bruce spends all his time acting like an air headed idiot, flirting with everyone that tries to talk to him and refusing to cooperate bc he doesn't believe the threat. 'Coincidently', he's always in the room every time one of them try to talk to talk to any of his children.

Then as time passes, he lets his guard down. They start to see a gentle, kind, Bruce Wayne whose children are his entire world, not token trophies. He speaks in a soft voice, one made out of cotton and clouds. He cares about the underprivileged in Gotham and genuinely works to make life better for them. He's smart and actually involved in his company. He's also incredibly slippery and tries very very hard to lose their tail at all times. The only reason they can keep up with him at all is because most of them have special powers.

One day, while they're trying to look for him after he's lost them yet again, he gets kidnapped. The entire JL rushes to find him and rescue him before the person they've come to honestly respect and enjoy the company of gets murdered for trying to help them. They search for and reach the place he's being held after 2 days, only to find him tying up the criminals- who definitely all have broken bones- surrounded by the horde of younger Gotham vigilantes.

He turns to look at them and growls, "You're late. Civilian rescue time needs to be much shorter, these people weren't even experienced kidnappers. You're lucky it was me they were after otherwise you'd have found a corpse. We're running drills back at the watchtower."

They're all shocked because... that's Batman's voice?? Coming from the richest man alive, known playboy, not so known gentle father, BRUCE WAYNE??? BATMAN HASN'T EVEN BEEN OFF DUTY SINCE THEY BECAME BRUCE BODYGUARDS????

Turns out his children all ganged up on him and forced him to reveal his identity, especially since the JL had become friends with him both inside and outside the mask.

[saturnsbabyboii]

✨Astro Observations for those who think they're stupid when they're actually smart✨

✨Mutable risings are the "funny yet depressed" friend that is always trying to make sure everyone is okay and having a good time

✨Out of all the placements Aquarius is the only one I don't have a definitive standpoint on. Not a single one has something in common with another.

✨5th house placements are obsessed with reality tv while 11th house placements are obsessed with internet drama

✨Saturn in the 6th house natives are very likely to get plastic surgery for their weight

✨I keep reading on here that people know Taurus Moons that cook? I am sorry but since when instant noodles became "cooking". I have known five and my sister is one, and let me tell you, they can't cook for shit. They're such picky and particular eaters, they barely eat too.

✨My mother being an Aquarius sun with a Virgo moon means that I know the biggest catastrophizer alive.

✨Luminaries (sun and moon) opposite the rising, in my opinion, creates the most difficult people to deal with. They're so tone deaf and oblivious to how they come off.

✨Cardinal Lilith has conflict anxiety

✨Air Mercury thinks of an answer instead of listening to what someone is saying

✨Mars in the 11th house have many frenemies

✨Moon in the 11th are very popular among women

✨Angular houses (1st, 4th, 7th, 10th) at 0 degrees struggles to achieve milestones or feels behind compared to others

✨Scorpio risings are always referred to as an onion. To me, an onion is something with layers of the same shit that just burn your eyes.

✨ Whichever house of yours an artist's Ceres falls in is what their work is going to help you with.

✨This also applies to planet aspects, as to whether their work will leave you challenged, intrigued, feeling empowered, motivated, seen, connected, or just simply aroused.

✨Fire Mercury says the most random shit. But we are here for that crackhead energy.

✨Fire/Mars in the 9th house is very common among dancers

✨The sign of the 6th house can show how are you with apologies. Since along with that work ethic comes responsibility and integrity.

✨Anyways, you'll never catch a Sag or Taurus in the 6th apologizing that's for sure.

✨Lilith/Juno in the 10th house are very mistreated by men/masculine people and authority

✨Lilith/Juno in the 4th house was betrayed by the family, especially the mother

✨Aquarius in the 4th house is always looking for a mommy in someone else

✨The body part/s the sign of your 8th house rule indicates which sexual act gets your toes curled.

✨Having friends of the same Mars sign are people that match your energy

✨People that have Mars Square Mars got a friendship that needed communication and patience, however, they tend to create a stronger bond

✨It's ghetto out there with all of those unevolved Earth placements

✨First house stelliums are never grateful. The entitlement is real.

✨Neptune/Pisces in the 1st house and 12th house ruler is in the 1st house depersonalize as a full time job. Existing is very draining for them, and at times painful.

Bye.

[fandomwritingbit]

Sweet girl pt.3

dad's friend William Afton x (fem) virgin reader

synop: Reader goes over to William's to pick up where they left off. Pacing? Who's that?

pt.1 - here. pt.2 - here.

warnings: smut (oral and grinding? dry humping but not dry, idk what you call it), coercion, inappropriate relationship, age gap, generally creepy William.

A/n: Happy new year's! Thought I'd get something dirty out to prove I'm still alive and kicking, hope you enjoy! I have no idea if it's good because I hate everything I write at the moment lmao x.

On your walk home you see him before he sees you. The pang of excitement in your chest is so strong it winds you as the sensation travels down lower, settling in the part of you that screams for attention when William is around. You should keep your head down and slip unnoticed up the steps to your house, but the trouble is that you want to be noticed. You’ve been high on the memory of last time, desperate to feel it again. So you stop still, fiddling with the hem of your skirt and looking over your shoulder until eventually you pluck up the courage and cross the road.  

He’s doing something to his car, checking the tire pressure or something, still wearing his smart clothes from work. His head turns as you approach, the slow smile spreading across his face as he realises it’s little you, here to see him, has your head spinning already. 

“Hi…” You start, your voice tiny and uncertain.

“Hi?” He grins at you as he stands up, pressing the tip of his shoe into the tire and seeming satisfied with the result. “You come over here just to say that?” William looks you up and down, another pretty little skirt showing off your legs, you must be doing this on purpose. Still though, you coming to him and seeking him out is a good thing, progress towards you becoming his pet. 

You blink, hating that he almost instantly makes you feel like an idiot, especially given that you can’t seem to summon the faculties to prove otherwise. It’s pathetic how your face is flushed already as you struggle to figure out a response, why did you come over here? It’s stupid really, you’ve come to see him with the hope that, like last time, he’ll steal you away and corrupt you a little more. But you can’t exactly admit that. 

“Uhh. I don’t know why I came over… sorry.” Is the sentence you mutter just to try and end the awkward silence that was blooming as he waited expectantly, and you know it’s daft the second you say it. 

He laughs, which makes you feel doubly idiotic. “I’m only joking, sweetheart. You came over because you want to pick up where we left off the other day, right?” Your eyes go wide at his bluntness, shame doesn’t seem to be an emotion he’s ever come into contact with, instead it feels like you end up getting his share of it. 

As sweet as you look all embarrassed and hesitant, he lets you have some reprieve and changes the subject, “Are your parents expecting you home?” Now, as naïve as you are, you do know that that question actually means ‘are you free to disappear for a while?’, and it fills your stomach with butterflies.  

And again the tiny devil on your shoulder persuades you to go along with him. “No. No, they don’t know what I’m doing.” You dare to look him fully in the eye then and the intention in them has your core burning.

“Then you have to come in for a bit.” His hand rests on your lower back as he guides you towards his front door, already struggling with the urge to tear that skirt right off you. 

After getting inside, you look nervously over your shoulder to see him closing the door, that familiar excitement sizzling in your veins, and when he turns to see you looking all small and scared he can’t resist teasing you. “God, sweetheart, I can read you like a book. You’re nervous, huh?”

Rubbing your arm you avert your gaze, “I mean, yeah, a little.” The scoff from him shows that you’re not doing a great job of being convincing. It upsets you a bit that you can’t act all sexy and brave because you are lost in what to do, but you can tell that he likes that, and that feels very dirty. 

“Oh, you don’t don’t have to be.” He moves closer to you and you battle with yourself to not move away, you shouldn’t be doing this, you shouldn’t have done this before but you can’t help it. “I told you, we’re going to have fun.” He raises his eyebrows on the last word, and despite how overly sweet his tone is it does nothing to combat the intimidation of his bigger frame, now close enough that you swear you can feel his heat. His hand raises up to toy with the collar of your shirt, resting just above the curve of your breasts. 

The grazing touch is like ice on your skin, making goosebumps appear everywhere they’re able. “I just-” You blink in surprise at yourself talking, unsure when you decided to speak, “I don’t think I’m ready to uh… you know-” He does, in fact, know.

“Fuck?” He puts you out of your misery, the word crass enough to make your answer visible on your face. It sounds natural coming from him but you could have though of a million other ways to say it. “That’s what you’re scared of?” His hand moves up to tilt your chin to face him, his thumb resting over the plump of your bottom lip. “Listen, that’s not going to happen 'til you really want it. More than you clearly already do.” He was right, you do want it, you’re wet, your panties sticking to your core in a shamefully eager way.

You nod slightly in some form of acknowledgement but it’s cut short when he kisses you, the thought instantly evaporating from your head as he takes control of you. It’s that simple, his mouth on yours, his hand taking in the shape of your hips, that’s all it takes before you’re lost. You’ve been kissed before, had your share of grimy teenage make-out sessions, but this is insane, it gets more so when his tongue invades your mouth, stealing some pitiable noise from you. Instinctively you press against him, your hands tugging at the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll stop. 

Pretty quickly his grip on your waist dips down, fingers slipping under the waistband of your skirt and beginning to pull it down, your hand stops him. He pulls away, “You gonna let me see you? Huh?” He’s asking but still touching you, the other hand plucking your shirt and lifting it from your skin, watching your expression. You bring your lip between your teeth, nervous but still able to hum some agreement. Your shirt soon comes over your head and the skirt slips from your feet, leaving you feeling very exposed under his gaze. 

He takes half a step back to take in the sight of you in your bra and panties, “Now, who are these for?” He asks, aroused-tinted mockery coating the words. You’re not sure what he’s talking about until he flicks the strap of your knickers lying over your hip. 

“What?” You flinch when the material pings back against your skin, the amusement in his eyes a little mean-spirited. “N-no one.” You manage to remember to respond, only making him grin. 

“No one? This skimpy little bra and panties, for no one?” You know he’s taking the piss but you can’t help but pout at the mockery, your brows furrowed when he moves, still chuckling, to kiss your neck. He’s slightly unshaven and the scruff against your skin has you squirming, your hand finding a natural place on the back of his head, fingers lacing and pulling when he bites an aching kiss right where your neck meets your shoulder. It’s the blazing kind of pain that only lasts a moment, but the pitiful moan from you would have anyone thinking otherwise. 

It’s that pretty sound from you that forces him to briefly lift you onto the long table just next to his front door, pulling your bra down to flick his tongue over your nipple whilst roughly grabbing the other. He feels a little bad for you when you whimper from his touch, remembering that he should be a bit nicer to you really, so he takes himself away from your tits, dropping down to his knees. You firmly press your legs together in response, but when his warm hands land high on your thighs, you let him slowly pull them apart, revealing the wet spot on your panties.

You watch him still biting your lip, anxious of what he was going to do. He smirks up at you and you’re so distracted by it that his sudden contact with your core makes you jump, he traces the shape of your pussy over your knickers, dragging over your clit and then up higher to catch the edge of the garment. You help him pull them down by lifting yourself from the table, shivering when he leans in close, his breath making your pussy clench. 

“You poor, pretty little thing.” He sniggers, just the sight of your cunt has precum leaking from his cock. You watch idiotic as he slowly drags his tongue over your pussy, the sensation completely foreign but something you instantly fall in love with, evident in the way you moan. He maps out the path from your entrance up to your clit with his tongue, giving himself something to think about later. This perfect untouched cunt, sweet as fucking honey all for him; the thought has him grabbing himself over his trousers, giving his cock some much needed attention, as he focuses his action on your clit. It’s like he knows exactly what you need, because he finds the right rhythm immediately, slowly circling your nerves in a way that has you writhing above him. 

He has to hold your thigh to keep you still, the mixed feeling of this intense stimulation and the dull rub of his facial hair could give you whiplash. You’d be so embarrassed to see yourself right now, pathetic moans and whimpers tumbling from your lips as you fall mercy to the insane building of pressure in your core. It’s like a flame on gasoline, a sudden, scorching need to cum that burns your legs all the way up to your chest. He grunts into your pussy, making you open your eyes for the first time in apparently ages, just to see him stroking his cock, turned on from making you dumb. 

“God, fucking look at you.” He stops his sucking of your clit to speak, leaving you hanging in such a devastating way you want to cry. “It’s very hard not to give this cunt what it fucking wants.” The sharp words have your walls clenching, only proving his point. Without warning he stands, still holding your legs open, and taps his cock against your core, the idea of him fucking you seems very real and very scary right now, especially with how big he looks. But you want it, you really fucking want him to do anything to you he wants, just as long as you can cum.  

The precum dripping from his head clings to your slick as he slides his cock down, digging delightfully against your clit before notching at your entrance, sharply glancing at your watery eyes. He’s a man of his word but fucking hell, he wants to feel that tight little hole around him. He grunt as he moves up again, sliding his cock through your folds, grinding it against your bundle of nerves and reigniting the climb to your peak.  

“Come here.” He mutters as he pushes you down slightly on the table, catching your legs and lifting them up to press your thighs together, holding both your ankles in a firm grip. He continues rutting against your cunt, your thighs creating a slick grip for him, almost as good as the real thing. Your too concerned with the rearing of your climax to think about how fucking lewd this is, this older man thrusting against your pussy and you’re enjoying it, it’s maddening. But you don’t really care, not when your walls flicker with waves of pleasure, squeezing around nothing as your legs begin to shake. You cum hard enough to lose your power of speech, instantly overstimulated by the continued pressure on your clit. 

When you cum he loses it, your wet heat and desperate hands grabbing what parts of him you can reach, needy for him, is intoxicating. You feel him move your legs apart again, letting them fall to his sides, taking hold of his dick and stroking it til he finishes. A gasp leaves your lips at the filthy sensation of his cum coating your pussy and lower abdomen, you can hardly believe it’s real and not the end scene of a dirty video. 

“God.” He groans, taping his cockhead against your pussy just to make you flinch. You just whine in response half in the odd sense of calm after tumbling over your peak, but half in self pity for the stickiness between your legs. You watch as he fixes himself, very aware that you're still slumped on the table but unwilling to move. 

“Come on.” William says through a smirk, you look a right state and he prides himself on his good work. “You'll have to get cleaned up.” He takes your arm and pulls you forward 'til you land on your feet, now very aware that your bra is clinging on for dear life and the rest of your clothes are in a heap on the floor. 

“I'll just grab my-” You start, indicating towards the pile, but he cuts you off. 

“You're in no rush, shower first. Worry about that later.” You probably would have protested but he guides you forward, turning a corner and entering a bathroom. 

“Thank you.” You say a little uncertainly. Yes, it's nice of him to show you where things are and let you get sorted before turfing you out; yet something about the glint in his eyes screams ulterior motive. He leaves you to it, all sorted with a towel, and disappears to make sure your panties end up in his pocket where they belong. 

Pt.4