#Hitman fic

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Nothing Less Than True Romance

🩸 Previous Parts Here 🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, nervous boys, smut heavy chapter, past abuse, teasing, Dom's thicc ass, Dom's pretty uncut alpha cock, desperate boys, d/s undertones, Kells being a dom, Kells being a mouthy top, directions, hand jobs, blow jobs, talks about anal, talks about triggers, choking (with a cock), cunnilingus, masterbation, accidentally saying the wrong thing, crying, hormones, Dom being a caring alpha, Kells being a sneaky omega, accidental sex(?), body worship, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: explicit

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

The closer the Alpha was to Colson's cock the faster his heart sped. They had fucked in the midst of a rough heat and rubbed off on each other like horny teens but this? This was on purpose, no question about it. The moment his Alpha touched him there he had to admit what he was. A needy omega who liked men. Well… one man. And fuck he was a pretty one.

“You cringing at the fhought of me? Ain't touched ya yet.” Dom teased as he settled on his stomach between his lover's legs. He could feel the apprehension, the man was obviously nervous but he understood. Col had been through hell too and they could be careful. They could take it slow.

“No. Shut the fuck up. I was cringing at the thought of your damn shoes on my bed. Plus, you've never done this. You might think you're supposed to use teeth or some shit.”

“You ain't?” Dom teased back, his crimson eyes wide with faux innocence. The color and scent of his desire in the room slightly ruined that picture.

“Dumbass.” Kells huffed but his partner surprised a laugh out of him when he turned to look over his shoulder.

“Don't look dumb.” The Alpha hummed, wiggling his hips till the ass in question bounced.

“Dummy thicc maybe.” The omega sighed under his breath and wondered for a moment what that ass would feel like wrapped around his dick. How against Alpha's was his, he wondered. Would Dom allow something like that? “You ever play with yourself?” He asked before he could help it. He knew the boy was mostly virginal but there was a chance… Besides, it gave him a moment to panic to himself. There was nothing wrong with being with a man but he had left over self hatred from his dad.

Dominic paused and tilted his head, he wasn't sure what his mate was asking. “Like…” He trailed off, moving one hand in a vulgar motion.

The hand signal was so close to Colson's cock he swore he could feel the fist around him and he had to swallow hard as he shook his head. “N-no. Your ass.”

“Oh. Um-” Without thinking Dom curled his palm around Col’s cock, as if he did it all the time. As if it wasn't some huge step between them. As if Kells wasn't battling internal homophobia. Or was it a form of misogyny? The omega jumped and bit his lip. He knew the bastard did that on purpose, he could feel his lover’s pride whether at his own sneakiness or Col’s reaction he wasn't sure. “I ‘ave a few times yeah. Jus' to see. Why?” His palm squeezed softly and he practiced a stroke. He was trying to act nonchalant but saliva was pooling on his tongue and he knew he was leaking a puddle of precum on the bed. His mate was going to be so upset.

Col could be honest or he could play a game. They had already crossed the starting line and he couldn't look away. It seemed obscene but he knew it was only the first step. “Was picturing my dick in your ass.” He didn't mean to be so blunt but he never had been good at faking demure. He'd acted as an Alpha so long it was part of him now.

“Oh. Yeah?” Dom's voice was breathy. He didn't know that was something either of them might want.

“Yeah.”

“‘Is dick?” The boy teased as he inched closer, flicking his tongue over the crown.

Colson's hands scrambled to find purchase in the sheets and he squeezed them to keep from bucking up. “Yeah. Would you want it?”

“Long as it's you and ‘is dick.” It was weirdly intimate and romantic and Col would have smiled if the freak didn't strike. Those plush lips sealed around his tip and his sharp tongue teased all it could reach. It was messy as soon as he started, spit dripping down his shaft. Dom was eager though and thorough as fuck. Beginner's luck he was sure.

“Mmm fuck- yeah. Just like that- look at you.” Kells had forgotten to warn his boy of one very specific thing- he was a mouthy bitch. The only reason he hadn't gone off when they had sex was that he'd been so gone from his heat but there was something about having someone blow him. About watching someone choke on his cock. “Good boy. Little more? Deeper? You can take it.” He rasped and was surprised when Dom didn't just obey but fucking moaned for him.

Dom was so fucked. He never had the chance to find out what he liked in bed so everything was a new experience between them. He knew deep down it was probably childhood trauma but hearing someone praise him was a rapture. He twirled his tongue around the edge of his mate's crown and sucked as much as he could. His knot was already pulsing where his cock rest against the bed and his hips were rolling in small sharp thrusts.

“You look so p-pretty like this. Good mmm- good boy. More. Just like that. Can I- fuck-” Kells couldn't finish his sentence so he tested the waters with a gentle push. When his Alpha choked and whined through his nose he couldn't help but groan.

Dom didn't know how to say yes, he couldn't seem to make himself pull off. Instead he rolled his gaze up to meet the other's and tried one small nod. When Colson just watched him he huffed softly and patted his hair before letting his mouth go slack. He might have been mostly virginal but he wasn't daft- normally- and he was desperate to let his omega to fuck his face.

Kells cursed under his breath and thanked whatever part of the universe blessed him with such a weird ass Alpha. As his fingers tangled in the boy's messy hair he caught his psycho bitch wink. “Ya know I was almost scared I'd miss pussy with you. But look at that fucking mouth. Already a slut. Taste good don't it?” He asked as he wrapped his long legs around Dom's chest.

The first thrust was careful and the Alpha rolled his eyes, but something warm and safe was happening in his mind. He could trust the man underneath him and he wanted his mate to feel comfortable with him too. Somewhere deep inside his mind he wanted to be used. It felt akin to when he finally let go and let his urges win. He was surrendering to Col's needs completely and it felt like the other side of the coin to his darker edge. He could be used for destruction and that's all he was used to but he could also play fuck doll to his mate and help the man through his fears.

Dom was too up in his head but with every tug of his hair he was sinking deeper and losing his train of thought. What the fuck was happening? What magic did Kells have over him? Slick smeared against his chest and the scent was intoxicating, he felt baptized anew in his mate's need. Colson's mouth never stopped and it almost made it Alpha blush. He'd never felt so complimented and debased. “Perfect fucking mouth. Shit- gonna- yeah, just like that. Hold your breath?” He barely warned before Dominic was choking on his dick. He didn't ask and he didn't retreat when the boy turned pink.

Col was in heaven, his nerves were washed away on a rush of wanttakeneed. Dom's throat was spasming, his body fighting for air, but the fucker trusted Kells so completely he knew he could let him pass out and he'd be thanked for the deed. It felt like too much power for one man, the thought of a leashed Yungblud, but the omega's favorite thing was control of a deadly weapon and power to do whatever the fuck he wished. For just a moment he wondered how he got so damn lucky but that too drifted away as he watched plush lips nearly kiss his inked skin. “Almost. Al- fucking hell- such a good bitch.”

Dom preened internally as his head went dizzy but he kept his lips tightly sealed. He hadn't meant to let the other man finish so soon but he knew the telltale signs. The taste of precum coated his tongue and the weight in his mouth was twitching. His own cock was throbbing so hard that he thought he might pass out but for the moment everything felt secondary. His fight or flight said he could die but the Alpha in him purred happily. His head tingled where his hair was pulled but pride welled in his chest when his lips met skin. ���Fuck- oh god look at you- fucking-” Something must have worried his omega because Colson's voice went thready and he started to try and pull out. Dom tried to growl and press closer and his throat swallowed hard. “Fuck!”

Kells tried to be nice, he felt frantic as pleasure zinged up his spine but crimson eyes met his and he felt a chill at what he saw. It was Dom but… not. Somehow it didn't frighten him and instead just pushed him closer to that edge. When the bastard refused to move he couldn't help what happened next.

When white heat choked the Alpha his mate finally pulled him off. The last few drops landed on his tongue and he savored his lover's flavor as he panted for breath and grinned like the Cheshire cat down at his fucked out lover. As he waited for Col to regain his ability to speak he couldn't help but be drawn to the soft wet place between those long spread legs. The scent was so intense it felt like it was all he could breath or taste. It was thick on his tongue like he'd already licked and he wondered if now his mate might allow…

Colson jumped at the feeling of hot breath over his slippery wet folds and he felt himself clench tight around nothing. He didn't slam his legs closed but it was a near thing, if letting Dom blow him was a big step this was a jump over the damn grand canyon. “Fuck are you-” He stopped himself from being mean, this was exactly what the boy was supposed to do. He wasn't even doing anything yet, just breathing Col in. Fucking weirdo. He could almost see himself falling in love with him. Shit.

“You smell like sex.” Dom growled, his voice rough and scratchy and dripping desire. It made the omega's breath catch in his chest. He did that damage to the killer.

“Duh.” He huffed simply, his mind barely online. The bastard had just blown his mind, wasn't he supposed to find his own release? Was Dom ever selfish? He couldn't be the only demanding one, it might make him spoiled. Or worse... Make him think he needed to be nice.

“I'd like to taste you.” The Alpha tried to purr. It was a simple request that felt monumental.

“You just did.” Kells knew he was being a dick, his lover was being patient and calm and it bothered something in the older man. Maybe if he just fucking took but no, he was forcing Col to give consent at every turn. “What do you want?”

The question reminded Dom of their first time. He'd held the man down and demanded he give him explicit permission. If his mate wanted to play that game… “To taste ya cunt while I play wiv me’self. Wanna put me tongue inside you as deep as I can and preferably make you squirt on me face.”

The Alpha held such strong eye contact through his whole spiel that by the time he was done and licking his pillow lips of any remnant of cum and his own blood, all Kells could say was- “Oh.” He couldn't answer aloud, his heart was racing and the bastard was choking him right back with his own speeding pulse stuck in his throat. What he could do was grip the pillow next to him and hold it against his chest but Dom took that too and tossed it aside.

“Fuck tha’. I wanna ‘ear you scream.”

“Cocky fuck.”

Dom just smirked and swiped his fingers through the mess of slick on his chest before he flicked his tongue obscenely around them to prove his point. Maybe he had a reason to be cocky. “Is there anything on you not weirdly perfectly sized for porn?”

Dom snorted a laugh and choked on his own digits but the human moment soothed a little of the raging nerves in Colson's chest. “Look in a mirror luv.”

Kells shrugged but he couldn't snark back as his Alpha started to move in again. Their eyes locked as his breath hit wet skin and when the omega didn't move to stop him again he let himself relax. With the first taste he knew nothing could ever compare. He had no idea what he was doing but he let himself take it slow and explore. The tip of his tongue traced blushed quivering wet skin from the omega's ass to his balls. Occasionally he let himself slip between and circle his hole but mostly he was just learning the shape of his mate and what made him whimper. It wasn't long before the man's legs were trembling and threatening to close around his head.

Where Col had been a mouthy bitch about his cock this felt different. He didn't know what he liked and he couldn't direct the boy anywhere. His inner walls spasmed every time Dom teased, his tongue nearly dipping inside over and over. The omega had never even played with himself besides the night he met the younger man and he didn't think that counted. Of course he liked his g-spot touched, that felt like a given, but Dom just wouldn't go inside. He shook when the boy sealed his lips against his hole and sucked before the fucker pulled back and spit pink tinged slick into his palm. Kells watched with round eyes as Dom wiggled his hand under himself and when that tell tale sticky wet sound hit his ears he knew he turned pink.

The Alpha groaned and pulled back enough to speak. Everything felt overwhelming and he knew he wouldn't last long but he needed to check in. The difference in his mate was too stark. “Wha’ you need?”

“I don't know.” Col whispered honestly. “It feels-” He flushed hotter but he couldn't finish the compliment. “Deeper?”

Dominic nodded and fought his deep aching need to shove his cock where it belonged. He wouldn't be like that, they had to learn each other first, but fuck it was hard to battle instincts. “Can I go inside?”

“With what?” The fear was immediate but he trusted Dom. It was a knee jerk reaction he knew they could overcome.

“Me tongue. Tha's all. Or you could touch ya’self?” Somehow his pride wasn't wounded that he might not make his lover scream. He knew they had time to find out what drove each other wild. This was about so much more than that. This was about making his mate feel loved- something Dom had never tried to do before. He'd never built trust in that way or cared to connect. So much was so new to them both.

The butterflies in Colson's stomach threatened to make him sick but the need rushing through him was stronger. He could see his own desire dripping down the Alpha's face. He wasn't ready to touch himself again, that felt too close to admitting what he was which admitted what grew between them- literally- but he could admit something he wanted. “Show me your dick. Sit back.”

Dom's brow arched but of course he obeyed. He settled back on his ankles and inched closer as Kells spread his legs. They both froze for a moment when the shiny pink tip of Dom's cock brushed his folds. It was an accident but they both felt wetter at the touch. “Fuck m’sorry.” The boy muttered but Col could tell it was just as torturous for the younger man as it was for him to keep their puzzle pieces from slotting together. Shit, why were they being careful?

“Why aren't we fucking again? It's not like I can get more-” He stopped himself short and grit his teeth but he knew the fucker read between the lines by the smile on his face. “Would you just shut the fuck up and put something inside me before I make you?” He felt the mistake as he said it and his heart dropped but his lover just shook his head as if to say it was okay. He caught the slight fall of a smile though and it made his heart ache. Here Dom was trying so hard to be careful of his limits and he just bulldozed over his. Fuck.

Dominic wondered if everyone had to be so careful, if all sex was a journey of learning each other. He didn't think so, he was pretty sure they were just a special matching set of mental issues but he wouldn't let it mess anything up between them. When he caught the shine of tears in his omega's eyes he let go of his cock and moved to crawl over him. For just a moment he didn't even notice how close they were again. He was too concerned about Col’s emotional state. Could he start blaming hormones yet or was it all on him? He supposed either way it was his fault. “‘Ey, you okay. Did I do summat wrong?” His voice was soft and rasped but Colson just scoffed.

“Did you? Fuck you. You have to tell me when I push it. We literally just talked about this shit. I'm sorry.” Kells sniffled but the pretty bastard just grinned. It was like he wasn't used to anyone caring. Maybe he wasn't. Fuck.

“We good. You can make me do whatever you want. Use me. I trust you.” At Dom's soft words Colson gasped, those three little words were almost worse than the others. Didn't he just prove he couldn't be trusted to censor himself? “‘Ey, stop tha’. Can feel ya brain. Be nice.” He huffed, pressing a still bloody and slick wet kiss to Col’s lips. Another. His cum covered tongue swiped across the seam of his lips and the next noises between them were soft whimpers.

Kells pulled the younger man flush against him and when he felt his lover's cock ghost his folds again his hips bucked up to chase him. They were both so wet they slipped against each other but Dom was still trying to hold himself back. Col threw his leg around the boy’s waist and tried grinding his core against the ridge of his Alpha's knot. As their tongues met and their breathing sped he kept inching closer to what they both so obviously needed.

“I were trying to wait.” Dom panted and Colson answered by biting his lower lip and sucking it between his own. “I- we shouldn't. Not yet.” His voice was as broken as he felt. The feel of Col’s hot wet cunt was too much. The omega made it to the tip of his dick, his hole catching and waiting there. It was torture. It was too much. It wasn't like the sociopath was good at self control.

“Are you waiting for me or for you?” Colson's voice was trembling as much as his body and his desire burned in his belly like fire. The look of need Dom gave him was a beautiful sight but he felt the man struggling against himself.

Dominic took a loud breath, something more akin to a groan. “Boff. You.” He admitted, he was having trouble remembering why though.

“And if I need more?”

“Fucking ‘ell-” The words were choked out as the Alpha released the last of his self control and their bodies moved fast in tandem. Dom bucked up and Colson thrust down and their shared breath sounded almost like a shout.

Kells didn't berate his shaking mate for his size or anything else. For once he couldn't find anything to complain about. The stretch was intense and overwhelming but somehow still felt exactly where they belonged. Dom’s arms wrapped tight around him as their sweat wet bodies slid against each other in a sticky loud mess. There wasn't an inch between them and Dom barely pulled out before rocking back in.

It felt slow and desperate, their holds tight and bodies weak for each other. It wasn't a push-pull but they met in the middle and their gazes never left the other except to blink away sweat. They couldn't kiss anymore, they could barely breathe. They just held on and swayed together as their pleasure built closer to release.

Every catch of Dom's crown against his spot had Colson nearly breaking, there was a knot of heat in his belly pulling tight and putting pressure where he wasn't used to it yet. The Alpha was going to get what he wanted but it wouldn't be on his face. “I'm-” He tried to speak but he couldn't and thankfully his mate seemed to understand.

“Please?” Dom was so close it ached but he wanted to watch his lover's pleasure and it was as if Kells had been waiting for just that word. His golden eyes went wide and his lips parted on a gasp. His body trembled in the Alpha's hold as he came for the man just as he asked. He could feel his own need rushing through his veins but he tried to keep his forming knot from slipping inside as Col gushed for him and made the slide so fucking smooth.

“P-please?” The omega pleaded right back, his leg tightening behind Dom's back.

“But the b-” He didn't get to finish his worry before his mate was grinding them tight. They shared a breathy moan as their bodies locked together and Dom’s cock jerked hard as he filled his lover's womb somehow fuller.

“Shut the fuck up.” Col teased, trying to kiss his boy into submission. It wasn't like they could separate without damage.

“Pushy bastard.”

“You love it.”

And even though it confused everything inside the sociopath, he knew his mate was correct. He didn't just love it, he loved Colson. He loved his mate. He wisely kept the revelation to himself, they both liked his knot too much to risk the man trying to pull away. “Eh. Maybe.” He teased instead and they shared a strangely gentle kiss for two normally rough men.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 🖤

So I'm not sure this is up to my usual standards but I'm pretty sick today so I hope it's okay. I love them being needy and gentle though. I honestly thought they would just play but Kells was insistent they do more 🤭 I hope you enjoyed it! 💣🖤

[cicaklah]

hitman fic? on a bank holiday?

fandom: hitman

rating: threesome

pairing: diana/47/lucas grey and combinations thereof

summary:

“Was it true?” 47 asks quietly. His fingers continue to fly over the gun, but his brilliant blue eyes stay shaded. “The things you said. Did you fuck her like I would have?” “Yes.” Grey says, honestly. “Yes, they were, and yes, I did. To the best of my ability.” “What was it like?” 47 asks, finally raising his eyes, and he looks so young, hopeful, like the boy he was a long time ago. Grey lets that fondness spread across his face, and holds out a hand. “Why don't you come and find out?”

tagged: Threesome - F/M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dirty Talk, still a tiny bit of your friend and mine: proxyfucking, because this is my id and we are all just at her whim

---

felt like shit so finished up the sequel to dedicated to the one I love that I actually wrote the same day but never put the work in to make a proper story and not just some smut in a chat window. this is extremely my id, so you know, enjoy.

[magentasteam]

Oh shit, I totally forgot to read the Diana/Grey fics. Sometimes a poised redhead wants to have a nibble on a werewolf but also have her cute and loyal attack dog on a simp leash, perfectly healthy in the World of Assassination. Time to feast!

[demisexualnathanvuornos]

Ace Assassin Chapter 1: 47. That's Not a Name. No, But It's Mine [Hitman: Agent 47 (2015) 47 & Katia Van Dees] 670 words (18.10.2020)

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

The Hands That Hold You

Yandere Assasin Harem x Oblivious Fem Reader

TW: Somniaphilia, uncomfortable themes, yandere, stalking, mention of size difference, potential of being held captive, cunninglingus, smut, etc

The town of Rellikhold, a peaceful town filled with quirky citizens. Each with a mysterious past and lack of warmth. And you had received a special invitation by the government to live in this new town! Aren’t you lucky?

Poor little you had no clue that this town was filled with ex-contract killers who’ve never felt warmth nor kindness in their life… they were all a moth to your flame. Each one wanting to stake a claim on you, even if it was at the expense of another’s life. You belonged to them.

Callum: Scotland (Florist)

Callum is a massive man with a soft yet muscular build. He has a thick red beard that he keeps trimmed and a mustache he keeps curled up. Callum also has red chest hair and arm hair (the curtains definitely match the drapes). He is 35 years old and a retired sniper. Callum has a heavy Scottish accent and he’s the warmest of the villagers.

This big, muscular red head was shocked when you waltzed into his shop. You were so small and your steps were so clumsy like a newborn fawn. Yet it was your eyes that caught his attention. He’s never seen someone’s eyes filled with such innocence. It intrigued him.

Callum is easily flustered with from your bright smile and warm personality. Yet he can’t help the intrigue he felt from your arrival. From one glance, he knew you were just a regular civilian… what on earth were you doing here? This place was so dangerous.

Yet you’re oblivious to everyone’s past and treat him no differently from a regular man! Your interest in his flowers warm his heart… Callum is immediately taken to you. You’re so cute and you’d fit so perfectly in his arms… he’s never felt this way before.

Callum often looks forward to your visits to his shop. The red head often reorganizes the flowers just to make sure they’re to your liking! Callum always makes sure his beard is well trimmed and his long curls are pulled up into a bun. He has to look presentable for his little lady!

Often lingers around you like a shadow when you’re in the shop. Callum would lose his marbles if you ever came into his shop with a visible wound or bruise. He’s extremely obsessed with your well being.

Callum often offers you his jacket and holds doors open for you, he’s a total gentleman. A gentleman who believes you’re his. He sees no other logical explanation on why you visit him so often. You have to have a crush on him, right?! Don’t worry… he doesn’t mind that you’re shy. He has no trouble taking the lead.

It will take a total of four months until he’s trying to be more physically affectionate towards you. Callum believes the two of you are dating. His large, calloused hands often brush against yours or he’ll grab your waist to steer you in another direction. He cannot get over the size difference.

You’ll often have free bouquets delivered to your house with cute hand written notes. Which are often accompanied by Gaelic terms of endearment. “M’eudail. Mo chridhe. Etc.”

And if Callum ever spots you with one of ten other villagers? His stabs at affection take a turn to be more bold. In his mind, you’re trying to make him jealous… not to worry! Callum will give you more of his time! Whatever you want, he will give you! Even the heads of your enemies neatly arranged in a bouquet.

Callum I willing to do anything to keep you happy and satisfied. He’s the least selfish of the others. If you want to have a sexual relationship with him, he’d be more than happy to oblige!

Callum will have you bent over every surface and even his shop (with the curtains pulled down of course). Just so he can stuff you with his thick fingers and fat cock. He’s extremely giving and he’s more than happy to perform cunninglingus on you.

One day, you went into his shop and were filled with such fright, it made his heart ache!

“What are you so scared for, m’eudail?” Callum husky voice asked. The large man made his way over to your disheveled form. “Has someone frightened you?”

Callum bent down to your level and held your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs brushed a few tears from your cheeks as he shushed you.

“It’s okay, mo chridhe. I’ll keep you safe.”

Günter: Germany (Police Officer)

A tall, muscular blonde riddled in scars from head to toe. His blonde hair is always cut in a military cut and he’s extremely stoic. No one can ever tell what he’s thinking and he hardly speaks. Günter is Char’s identical twin brother and also an ex bounty hunter. The pair are both 29 years old and very feared members in the community from their reputation.

Günter was extremely wary of you at first. He isn’t used to people taking notice of someone like him or being warm to him.

Günter is extremely stiff when you interact with him. He often glances the other way if you stare at him with your pretty eyes for too long. He’s unsure of why his heart flutters whenever you’re around. Günter has never been in a relationship in his entire life. He’s so awkward and quiet around you, but his stoic expression never shows it.

You once grabbed his hand when you tripped and Günter swore he was electrocuted. He was quick to help you up onto your feet as he silently checked you over. His heart thrummed in his chest when you gave him such a sweet, grateful smile. It’s how Günter realized he’s smitten with you.

Günter often offered to walk you home to keep you safe. He’s the least delusional of the others and a rather lucid yandere. He is aware of the difference of reality and his fantasies. Which is why he will never act upon them on you. Everyone else is free game.

If someone upsets you even the slightest bit, they are instantly on his shit list. And if they make you cry or try to harm you? They’re as good as dead. He’s the town’s cop and the most prolific killer of them, so what can they do to stop him?

Günter is very aware of the others’ twisted feelings towards you, especially Char’s. He often hides around the corner as he watches his sister wash your hair. He’s a bit jealous of the intimacy, but he knows better than to be greedy. He’s a cop, not a hairdresser.

He’s usually quite silent but he often shows you his soft side. Soft smiles and tender touches. Günter is incredibly gentle despite his massive height.

Günter would be over the moon if you wanted a relationship of any kind with him! If it’s sexual, you sadly won’t be doing much walking. Günter tries his best to be gentle, but he soon finds himself blowing your back out while he whispers German pet names in your ears.

Günter also secretly has a breeding kink so keep an eye on him. If he’s in the heat of the moment, he will whisper his darkest desires in your ear. Of how he wants you round and fat with his kids with a ring on your finger.

And Günter will not share. So don’t even think about sleeping with anyone other than him or he will make several attempts to baby trap you.

“Meine Liebe, why do you cry?” Günter asked you softly with a frown. The police officer sat beside you on the park bench, his muscular arms now wrapped around you in a hug. “You know you can tell me anything… did someone make you upset?”

You just rest your head on his chest which made Günter melt into a puddle. He’s quick to scoop you up into his arms. “Do you want to head to my home, meine liebes Mädchen? It’s getting dark out and it can get dangerous at night.”

And the instant you nod your head, you’re swept off your feet in a bridal carry. His normally stoic face now had a small smile on it.

Finally… you were finally coming home where you belonged.

Wan: China (Photographer)

Wan is an average height man of Chinese descent. He’s quite feminine appearance wise, but don’t like that fool you. He’s one of the most dominant of the villagers.

Wan typically keeps to himself. Hes not as massive or intimidating as the other men. His long black hair is typically pulled back into a braid and he usually roams the village’s park or beach.

Wan is a bit shocked when he first met you since he can tell off the bat that you’re a regular civilian. Did the government send you as some sort of social experiment to see if their retirement was successful? To see if a group of ex- bounty hunters can integrate into society without a hitch? How peculiar.

Wan often trailed you home to see if you had any attachments to any governments. He didn’t want a government spy ruining his idyllic life and he was not afraid to eliminate you if that were the case… but you were clean! Annoyingly so.

You had simple hobbies and a permanent smile on your face. You were friendly and warm like a dog… like a pet. It made Wan’s mind wander to more promiscuous thoughts. Would you enjoy a collar and a leash while he dominated every aspect of your life? Perhaps you would since you always greeted him with such a warm smile and baked goods. You must have some sort of attraction to him, right? Why else would you bake for an acquaintance so often? (Wan had no clue you did for all of your friends).

Wan often invited you out for walks with him on the beach while he snaps photographs. It’s when you accidentally enter one of his shots that turn his whole world upside down. How could someone be so beautiful?

Wan started to snap photos of you smiling and dancing when in his company but it wasn’t enough. These simple photographs simply wouldn’t do for him anymore.

What started off as innocent photography took a quick, dark turn into obsession.

Wan began to slip behind you in the shadows to follow you everywhere. Whether you were simply enjoying a meal or beverage, or even sleeping, Wan captured it all behind his lens. Wan wanted more! More. More. More. More!!

His photography room was now covered in photos of you. There was not a single empty space left of the wall or ceiling that wasn’t adorned with your being. His darkroom still had thousands of photos developing as well. Wan simply couldn’t get enough.

When Wan found out there were others, he was extremely upset. What on earth did you see in Callum or Günter? They weren’t nearly as impressive as him! Wan was slim and far more flexible. Wan could bend your body in ways it’s never been before.

Wan often snuck into your room to lay beside you. To inhale your scent and to caress your soft, pliable body. Would you freak out if you woke up to see him or would you submit to his desires? This risqué game of his never grew tiring…

If you begin a sexual relationship with Wan, he’s incredibly rough. He has incredibly sadistic tendencies such as pulling hair, choking, licking up your tears, and harsh spankings… but he will talk you through it.

Slender fingers stroked your cheeks as you slept soundly. Wan smiled at how unaware of your surroundings you were. How could someone be so cute?

“Lǎopó, you’re so precious…” Wan bent forward and tenderly pressed his lips against yours. In his eyes, you were his lover. His and no one else’s. “I just want you to be my beloved pet, bǎobèi.”

Wan pulled your covers over your shoulders and over his body while he spooned you. This was the only time you were all his and no one else’s… and that’s the way he preferred it to be.

Amari: Thailand (Musician)

Amari is an amab individual but prefers to go by they/them. The twenty four year old often enchant others with their ethereal beauty. They have sun kissed skin and long black hair that frames a symmetrical face, one would think they were carved by the gods themselves. Yet Amari is partially blind due to their final assignment so they were forced into an early retirement compared to the others. Yet they pretend they’re fully blind to appear weaker to the others. They’re one of the most dangerous of the villagers due to their unpredictable mannerisms.

Amari can often be found in Belladonna’s restaurant playing the khene. Their mystic melody is as intriguing as they are which often captivates their audience.

Amari is incredibly shy and will be startled at first if you talk to them. Yet they’re eager for the companionship. Amari is the easiest to get close to compared to the others due to their young age. If you compliment them, they’re completely enraptured by you. You think they’re beautiful?! You love their music? Amari cannot get enough of praise.

Amari often trails after you like a lost puppy. They will often play the ‘helpless blind’ card just so they can hold your hand. They can’t get enough of how soft you are. Oh what they wouldn’t give to be able to see you… there was not a doubt in their mind that you were lovely.

Amari will play their khene for you and sometimes they’ll even sing. They’re your own personal song bird! They’re willing to perform any song for you so long as you eagerly listen to them just like they eagerly wait for your praise!

Amari will want to spend every breathing moment by your side. They’re stuck to you like velcro and unmovable. Suffocatingly clingy due to them never receiving warmth, Amari cannot get enough of your sweetness. They want you all to themselves.

They cannot stand you giving your attention and affection to the others. Look at them! Listen to their music, you said it was lovely! Just be theirs! Please. Please. Please. Please.

Amari will pathetically beg for your love on their hands and knees. They will use every card in their deck to manipulate you into their hands. They will not share and they will not surrender you.

No matter how puppy like they are to you, they’re a monster the others will not go near. Being involved with them is like being trapped in a spider’s web. You were doomed from the first interaction.

They’re one of the only ones who will stoop low enough to take advantage of you in your sleep (besides Wan). Their mouth is always buried between your legs as you sleep completely unaware of their efforts to get you used to them. They can’t get enough of how sweet you taste. Of how your body contorts and your toes curl in pleasure. Sometimes if the moonlight hits your face just right, they can see your face. And they make sure to burn that image in their memory forever. Oh what they would give for you to know it was them.

Amari pressed kisses up and down your thighs as your back arches in pleasure. So beautiful… so unaware. You’re just like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web.

“I love you…” Amari whispered against your skin, the assassin ran a tanned hand through their long locks in an attempt to reel themselves in. It was easy for them to get lost in the moment, but they needed to be patient. “And I know you love me too.”

Amari pulls themselves away from in between your legs and rests their head on your stomach. A soft hum escaped their thin lips in thought. It was such a beautiful night and they were happy to spend it with you.

Char: Germany (Hair Dresser)

Char is Günter’s identical twin and they couldn’t be more similar if they try. It’s easy to confuse one for the other since Char looks incredibly masculine. The only difference is their placements of scars and her blonde hair is just a little bit longer.

It takes awhile to earn Char’s friendship. She’s quite self conscious of herself since she looks so much like a man. Compliments will win her over and make her blush. She’s quite fond of being called handsome or beautiful.

She enjoys washing and trimming your hair for you. She cannot get over how soft your hair feels between her fingers…

It doesn’t take long for her to fall for you compared to her brother. She’s another sucker for praise, but she gives praise even more. Char is the queen of pet names.

Char is incredibly protective of you, just like Günter. The difference between them is that Char collects little keepsakes from you. Oh yes, she has a shrine dedicated completely to you.

Char is obsessed with you. She collects the trimmings of your hair and any utensils you had used in her salon. She tells herself it’s to keep herself from acting on her impulses, but that’s a lie. She’s simply obsessed with you.

If you ever vent to her about any one in the village, especially new comers, she will get rid of them for you personally. Typically in a rather brutal fashion. Anyone who upsets you simply doesn’t deserve to live.

If you’re ever curious about her past, she will tell you. She’s the least secretive and the most honest. Char will even admit about her shrine of you if you ask. She wants to be an open book that you can read at anytime. Trust her.

Char will often flee to the back room of her salon if she gets a bit too riled up from her interactions with you. If you follow her to the back because you’re worried, there’s no guarantee she won’t have you bent over the break room table with her lips eagerly pressed against yours and her fingers yanking at the waist band of your pants.

Out of everyone, Char is the most obsessed with your pleasure. She’s incredibly giving. It doesn’t matter the time or the location, if you’re a bit moody she will pull you into the nearest room and go to town. Be as loud as you want as she pushes your body to the point of overstimulation, she wants the others to know you’re hers.

“Meine Liebe…” Char whispered as she presses kisses all across your fear stricken face. An expression you always wore due to how passionate of a lover Char was. “I’m sorry I got carried away again.”

You nuzzled into your lover, who only peppered you with more kisses. “Mein liebes Haustier, I love you so much… how about you just stay in mein arms forever?”

Belladonna: French (Chef)

Belladonna was once a renowned poison specialist, hence her name. She’s a tall, slender twenty nine year old woman with fawn brown hair and sharp, feline like features. Belladonna is heartless and cold, just like the deadly poisons she once used. She’s a closeted lesbian and a very open misandrist.

Belladonna is the owner and head chef at Le Jarden. She’s quite prideful of her cooking and she only prepares the best cuisine. Belladonna has a tendency to be quite pretentious and she’s very rude if your French isn’t adequate.

Belladonna does not like Ignacia, to others it looks like she singles out Ignacia a lot, but they have a very complicated past. Belladonna is incredibly critical of others and holds herself at the highest standard. She’s also quite the bully.

Belladonna will chase out male customers from her establishment. They are not allowed in Le Jarden, no matter who they are. (She often gets into arguments with Callum over his floral choices).

If you catch her attention, it’s because you stood up for Ignacia when Belladonna gave the poor woman a verbal beat down. Belladonna immediately takes your defiance as a challenge.

Belladonna will often pick verbal fights with you, but she’s intrigued by you. You were a regular civilian and yet you stood up to her of all people? You had some guts. Plus, you still tried to be kind to her. It frustrated the chef to no end. Belladonna always feels conflicted when it comes to you.

Belladonna’s words often cut like a knife but you’re surprisingly quick witted with your comebacks. She enjoys the back and forth. To her, it’s like a game. And Belladonna wanted to win.

Her hostility increases the more she interacts with you since Belladonna has never experienced feelings of this magnitude before. Belladonna could not differentiate between love and hate. You confused her and made her mind in constant disarray…

You’re sweet to the point you make her teeth rot and she hates it… or at least she tells herself that.

Belladonna hates when you interact with the others! Especially the men (and Amari). She’s much better than them- wait… why did she care so much about what you did?

Your once pleasant words soon become sour whenever she enters your peripheral. You no longer try to smile or wave at her, only scowl. It confused her even more. Why did she care whether you liked her or not? You were just a civilian… right?

You eventually snap sense into her when you tell her you despise her. You… hate her? No… she didn’t want to be hated! No. No. No.

Belladonna loses her mind when you constantly reject her. You won’t come to her restaurant and you won’t accept the many, many bouquets she leaves on your doorstep. Why won’t you forgive her? She never apologizes, so she truly means she’s sorry. Please forgive her, she can be soft. She can be soft.

She will kiss you until your lips are swollen and bruised. Until your lungs are nearly out of air and you’re breathless. Belladonna could be your oxygen! Your reason for being! She can do everything the others do, if not more! She has access to various poisons and other plants, some that could take you to pleasures of immeasurable heights! Just let her worship you…

Belladonna will go to extreme measures if you continue to ignore her desperate attempts at reconciliation. And that includes poisoning you so that you’re briefly paralyzed.

Belladonna’s slender hands hold your cheeks as she quietly sobs from above your still form. She knows you’re afraid, but this was your fault! You pushed her to do this!

“All you had to do was forgive me… Je t'adore. Je ne voulais pas te faire de mal…” Belladonna slipped into her first language while the waterworks began. She was so conflicted and confused. Her new feelings were overwhelming and concerning. Belladonna was usually level headed, but when it came to you? She was a dumpster fire.

Belladonna pressed her forehead against yours, her tears now mixed with yours into a long stream down your face.

“Je n'ai jamais ressenti ça auparavant, mais je suis sûr que je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement, ça me rend fou.”

Ignacia: Nicaragua (Writer)

Ignacia always wears a steel mask over her face and completely covers her body. No one knows what she looks like under there and she prefers to keep it that way… she was a twenty seven year old bomb specialist. At least until the accident. Her entire body is now covered in third degree burns. She is no longer beautiful so she hides herself away in order not to scare anyone. Her accident landed her in an early retirement as well.

Ignacia is biromantic and asexual. She’s always been more interested in books than people. Fictional characters comfort her more than real people.

A few years ago, she had a mission to take down a French politician and ended up destroying Belladonna’s secret hide out. Which is why Belladonna despises her. Ignacia isn’t too bothered by it though since she’s the one who received the worse end of it,

Her English isn’t the best so she rarely speaks. She often observes others from the corner of every room. Through the various interactions she observes, Ignacia created a fictional world for her characters in her stories. It was an escape from her harsh reality in the real world…

She’s so shy when you come up to her. Don’t you know she’s a beast under this mask? That she’s not as picturesque as the others?

Yet your kindness makes her knees turn to jelly and her heart leap in her chest in hopes it will escape its prison made of bones. Perhaps you were her chance at real life romance rather than the comforts of the printed texts in her books?

Ignacia is delusional. She overthinks every interaction you have with her. If you touch her hand on accident, she believes it’s because you’re shy! She’s shy too! If you compliment her eyes, she will try to wear masks that show off her eyes more. She’s so ecstatic that she shakes whenever she receives words of praise from you. It’s so exciting! Ignacia is living out a fairy tale romance!!

Ignacia began to build a perfect image of you in her head. To her, you were the perfect princess in a fairy tale book and she was the knight that would save you from the monsters (the other villagers). You were kind and sweet, the kind that needed to be locked away so nothing could harm you.

Ignacia begins to decorate your future home with her! She will ask more questions and bout your hobbies and interests so she can make it all perfect for you! She will incorporate your favorite colors and themes just to make it into your dream space! A pretty cage for her pretty princess!

Ignacia simply wants to keep you safe from harm. She doesn’t want you to ever injure or harm yourself. Her carelessness had landed her in her own predicament and she wouldn’t dare let you suffer the same fate. Ignacia was your knight in shining armor!

“Buenos díaz, mi amor!” Ignacia beamed at you while she handed you some breakfast. You were confused on your whereabouts, but Ignacia simply crinkled her eyes up from under her mask (she smiled). “Did you sleep well, mi princesa?”

“Ignacia? Where am I-“

“¡Estás en casa! !Donde perteneces!” Ignacia giggled as she affectionately pressed her mask into your cheek. Home? What did she mean by home? “Estás a salvo aquí, mi princesa. Para siempre.”

[tibby-art]

hitman au save me .. its been seven years ..

haven’t been able to draw/write much of this au lately but i want to write a few little scene snippets i have stored my brain :’D ill include them under cut

=+=

“This better be something good,” Scar muttered to Cub as they stepped out of the elevator. The hitman, while bound to his contract, considered ‘boring’ missions to be a waste of his time.

“I hope so,” Cub hummed. “Hope so.”

The ConVex swung open the doors to the NHO conference room, not bothering to check if their bosses were actually ready for their meeting.

“Holy mother of—! Knock next time, will you?” A man setting files down on the conference table jumped visibly as the doors slammed open.

“The Vex require a dramatic entrance, Beef,” Scar said casually. Cub snickered.

“Sure, whatever.” Beef furrowed his brow, used to this behavior. He didn’t have time for this. “Okay. Doc was supposed to do this briefing, but he’s busy with his machines I guess, because of course he is, so.” He huffed, composing himself. “Your new top-secret project. This one’s a doozy. Have a look.”

Beef slid the folder across the table. The hitmen flipped it open, absorbing its contents with hungry eyes.

What caught their eyes immediately were the photos. The person of interest looked nothing like a powerful crime boss or a dangerous anomaly. A young adult with glasses, dark eyes and short, sandy brown hair stared back at them.

“Who’s this?” Scar raised an eyebrow. Is the NHO asking them to assassinate some normal-looking university student?

“That is Grian,” Beef explained, both hands planted firmly on the table. “Grian has been with us at the NHO for months.”

“I’ve never seen him before,” Scar remarked.

“Grian’s case is top-secret. He’s been staying in high-security, private quarters… as well as our research laboratories.”

“I thought you guys seemed super suspicious lately! I knew they were hiding something from us, Cub,” Scar nudged his partner with a grin. Cub did not budge as his sharp eyes combed through the documents. He hadn’t heard a single word spoken to him.

“Cub? What’s the deal?” Scar asked. He preferred to let Cub read their mission files and summarize it for him, anyways. Dyslexia and top-secret government files were not a great mix. Oh, what would he do without Cub?

“Watchers?” Cub finally spoke, looking up at Beef with a quizzical frown. The other man nodded slowly. “You’re kidding.”

“After months of testing and analysis, we can confirm that this individual is the only currently documented case of a mortal possessing Watcher abilities,” Beef nodded slowly.

Scar had heard whispers of the Watchers only a handful of times. As a vex, he knew plenty about the realm of magic, the divine, the fae, you name it! But Watchers were said to be ancient entities, perhaps as old as time itself. So old that they were widely considered to be a myth.

“So this is not a hit,” Scar said after a moment.

“This is not a hit, Scar, good lord, do not kill this person,” Beef put both hands on his forehead and let them slowly drag down his face.

“Mortal, you say?” Cub raised an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Beef said. “She was a completely normal citizen until he got these abilities in some freak accident. Lucky for everyone involved, the NHO was able to take control of the situation before anything… dangerous happened.”

“So,” Scar narrowed his eyes slightly, “If this isn’t a hit, then what do you want from us?”

Beef sighed. “After months of testing to determine Grian’s situation, the NHO has decided that he is too important to return to life as a normal citizen at this time. Instead, we’d like to utilize his abilities in our goals to maintain order in Hermit City, and we need someone to train her how to be a special agent in the field.”

“You want the ConVex to train a Watcher how to be a hitman,” Cub said with a slight smirk at just how insane that sounded.

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Scar put both hands on his hips. “Well, that’s not what I was expecting.”

“I suppose we could give it a shot,” Cub said. Although the ConVex were bound by a fae contract to work for the NHO, the vex took every opportunity to feign control over their situation. There was no choice here. Beef had given them an order.

“Sure, sure! We are very good at our jobs, after all,” Scar grinned. Whatever happened, good or bad, would at least be entertaining, surely.

“You’ll come back here to meet her tomorrow morning,” Beef instructed. “Hand me that file back and be here by 9, will you?”

“Sure thing,” Cub replied coolly, sliding the file back to the man. Scar couldn’t help but grin wider when he noticed Cub’s hand casually in his pants pocket, some folded white paper barely visible in his grip.

“Don’t be late. I’m serious this time,” Beef called out as the hitmen turned and exited the conference room.

=+=

The conference room was tense that morning. Towards the end of the table sat the NHO - Beef, Doc, Etho, and Bdubs. On one side sat Cub and Scar. Across from them, Grian sat alone.

“So, how about introductions?” Doc clapped his hands together. “Er… Cub and Scar, this is Grian. Grian, this is Cub and Scar. You guys already know the deal. Grian is going to come with you on missions from now on.”

The ConVex hadn’t taken their eyes off of Grian since they entered the room, unable to resist their curiosity. They had both read the files, but still found it hard to believe the person before them was a Watcher. Grian sat rigid in his chair, fiddling with his hands, looking tense and exhausted. She eyed the vex curiously as well.

“Well hello there,” Scar greeted. “I’m Scar, and this is Cub.”

“Hey, hey,” Cub said quietly.

“Hello,” The corner of Grian’s mouth twitched in a possible attempt at a smile.

The three continued to stare at each other until Bdubs cleared his throat.

“Wonderful introduction. Now that we’ve broken the ice, let’s talk about your next mission.” The man picked up a small remote, and the large screen on the wall behind them illuminated.

“Before we send our agents out into the field, we meet like this to discuss the details and ensure that the mission is clearly understood,” Doc explained to Grian, throwing a disapproving glare in the ConVex’s direction.

A lengthy file on some high-profile criminal appeared on the screen, as Bdubs proceeded to read off the information. Scar slumped back in his chair. These mission briefings were the worst. It was time to zone out and have Cub tell him the details later with all the fluff cut out.

At about ten minutes in, Scar yawned absentmindedly.

“Oh, are we boring you, sir?” Doc interrupted Bdubs to shoot a piercing stare at Scar.

“Oh, not at all!” Scar said cheerfully, but slumping in his chair slightly lower.

“As I was saying,” Bdubs continued loudly.

Scar glanced over at Grian. Her eyes quickly darted back to the presentation when they made eye contact. Scar looked over at Cub and found he had still not taken his eyes off of Grian. Hopefully Cub was at least somewhat paying attention, because he sure wasn’t.

Grian continued to fidget with his hands. Scar felt a pang of pity for him. The vex were used to this sort of environment, but according to the NHO, Grian had a completely normal life up until a few months ago. Now suddenly, he gains these terrifying powers and spends months in a top-secret lab having tests run on her all day. Who wouldn’t be overwhelmed?

Scar yawned again, this time more intentionally. He earned another death glare from Doc, but Bdubs droned on. He glanced over and saw Grian rubbing a hand on his cheek to help hide a grin.

The art of annoying your boss was a delicate one. Timing is everything. Let enough time pass until they’ve forgotten, or they think you’ve stopped, to continue the game. Scar lets about ten minutes pass before his next yawn, bigger this time.

“Quit it,” Beef hissed. Even Etho glanced over. Doc kept his eyes on the screen, but his jaw was clenched. Grian let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Five minutes later, Cub clears his throat rather loudly. Bdubs stutters over his words for a second, but because Cub is Cub, none of the NHO seems to be able to tell if that was a deliberate cough or not, and they decide to ignore it. Cub shows no emotion.

After an hour that felt like an eternity of Bdubs explaining every possible detail about the case, it seemed to be almost concluded. That was, until a rather loud yawn was heard throughout the conference room.

“WILL YOU LET ME FINISH, FOR GOODNESS SAKE?!” Bdubs finally erupted, whipping around in his chair to face Cub and Scar.

The hitmen stared back blankly. They glanced over across the table, and Bdubs followed their gaze, where Grian sat with both arms over her head in a large stretch.

“Sorry,” Grian said simply when all eyes were on him, lowering his arms. “Just had to stretch a bit.” He stared back at Bdubs innocently.

The NHO stood there, confused. Bdubs was at a loss for words, unable to get a read on the new recruit. He sighed and turned back to the screen. “Well, regardless, I think we’ve about summed things up,” he grumbled.

Scar made eye contact with Grian once again. The two cracked a smile at one another for a second, too quick for the NHO to notice.

Scar had a feeling that him, Cub and Grian were going to get along just fine.

=+=

[good-chimes]

Based on @tibbycaps’s very funny convexian hitman au, where vexes Cub and Scar have been ‘voluntarily’ employed as hitmen by the governing NHO.

YR 1, DAY 1 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Hello and welcome to the NHO! We are proud to protect the citizens of Hermit City. How can I help you?

Cub: We want to get past those security barriers.

Receptionist: Uh…so you’re…visitors?

Scar: We’re employees!

Cub: Since this morning.

Scar: We have a contract and everything. We’re totally official and definitely allowed in the building.

Receptionist: Um. Do you have your passes?

Cub: Oh, yeah, yeah, of course. Just a moment.

Scar: Do we have passes! Of course we have passes. Cub, give her the passes.

Receptionist: Sir, that’s an aluminum bottle cap.

[The visitors examine the item.]

Scar: Looks like an employee pass to me.

Cub: My bad. What about this?

Receptionist: That’s a penknife. That’s a sandwich wrapper—that’s a library card—I mean, it’s the right shape, but—that’s a driver’s license which is obviously not yours—that’s a fifty-dollar bill—that’s a second driver’s license for a completely different person. Sir, literally none of these things are employee passes.

Cub: Yeahhhhh, but do you get paid enough to notice?

Receptionist: Do you have a line manager? Or, um, a hiring manager? Who’s in charge of you?

[The visitors consult.]

Scar: Someone is, probably.

Cub: Might be Beef.

Receptionist: Uh, Director Beef is, uh, one of the heads of the whole organization. Are you sure?

Cub: Eh.

Scar: He did have a nice suit. Good shoes, too! Shame about the soot stains afterwards.

Receptionist: Okay, I’ll…just ping my boss… and I guess we’ll just start the process to get you passes. Let me take your first and last names, please?

Scar: Mister Scar GoodTimes, and this is Cub.

Receptionist: Cub?

Cub: Yup.

Receptionist: That’s a nickname…?

Cub: No, it’s a full name. Cub. Uhhhhh. Fan.

Receptionist: Sir, did you just look at that baseball pennant?

Cub: Yeah. Huge coincidence.

Receptionist: Okay, I’ll send them to print…orientation booklet…fire exits…do you need any accommodations for your, er, your wings?

Cub: Naw, they’re not real in this dimension. Go straight through physical matter. Walls, people—

Scar: —bars, safe doors—

Receptionist: Um.

Cub: Vex joke. Cultural.

Receptionist: Oh, right, you’re Vex! Like—what were those guys called who ate that policeman on the news…? ConVex!

Cub: Noooooo, no, no, we’re nothing like them. We’re real upstanding citizens.

Scar: I heard those two went to prison.

Cub: To super jail.

Scar: For a thousand years!

Manager: Excuse me, I’m the head of front desk and security, what’s going on here?

Receptionist: Oh, hi, boss, these gentlemen were just—

Manager: I can see what they are! This should have been escalated as soon as they turned up. You should have known to call me the minute you saw a Vex!

Receptionist: They haven’t done anything wrong.

Manager: Not done anything wrong—you mean they haven’t eaten anyone yet.

Cub: I haven’t had my coffee.

Scar: I have! Who do you want us to start with?

Manager: Come with me, please. The Directors want to see you.

Scar: [voice retreating as the visitors are escorted away] This is a fancy office. I like the art.

Cub: Did you know you can turn that photocopier into a laser canon?

Manager: This is why they put you in prison! Stick close to me! Please stop touching things!

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

The copier tray is to be loaded from the correct angle only. It is not a ‘useless piece of shit’, you are handling it incompetently.

HR will not be dealing with complaints of ‘substandard management’. HR are here to deal with your pay slips. Complaints of substandard management should be addressed to your manager, who will take appropriate action.

Colleagues are to act with caution around new NHO agents ‘Cub’ and ‘Scar’. Minimal contact is advised. Security can be contacted via the panic buttons.

YR 1, DAY 36 OF CONTRACT

Cub: Hey. Picking up a delivery.

Receptionist: Of course, sir. Have you got a parcel ticket?

Cub: Sure, give me an example and I’ll forge you one right now.

Receptionist: I just needed the number—never mind. Let me take a wild guess based on your deliveries so far: is it the crate that’s green and glowing?

Cub: Huh, thought it would be blue. Maybe a kind of teal.

Receptionist: Well, we only have one that glows. It makes a buzzing sound when you get near it.

Cub: Ohh yeah, that’s the one.

Receptionist: Last time you got a delivery it was snakes.

Cub: Important experimental material.

Receptionist: Can you let us know if it’s snakes again? Only I need to find a heat lamp if you’re out on a mission.

Cub: Oh, yeah, right. I can build a heat lamp for you to keep here. You want something for it?

Receptionist: Okay, sir, for the last time, I don’t know where all your unmarked fifty-dollar bills come from, but it’s not normal to bribe building staff to do our jobs. 

Cub: Yeah? No deal, huh?

Receptionist: …Can you really turn the photocopier into a laser?

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

URGENT: ALL STAFF MUST STAY AWAY FROM THE PHOTOCOPIER UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

YR 1, DAY 82 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Good afternoon, welcome to the headquarters of NH—Scar?

Scar: Hello there! How’s it going?

Receptionist: Hey, Scar?

Scar: Uh-huh?

Receptionist: Your whole arm is covered in blood.

Scar: Blood? Oh, this blood? Don’t worry, don’t worry, everything’s fine. It’s not my blood. How was your weekend?

Receptionist: Are you sure it’s not your blood? That looks like someone sliced through your whole sleeve!

Scar: [tastes his own arm gingerly] Wait, yeah, some of it is mine. Just this bit, though.

Receptionist: Don’t eat it, oh my God.

Scar: It’s fine, Cub says we’re immune to all pathogens.

Receptionist: Seriously?

Scar: Nah, I think he just said that because I took his research away from him when he had the flu.

Receptionist: You should go wash that wound. That can’t be healthy. What have they got you doing out there?

Scar: Oh, y’know, this and that, we solve problems. We’re problem solvers. In fact we signed a contract to do that, so I guess we keep solving problems forever. Can I have one of these mints?

YR 1, DAY 145 OF CONTRACT

Cub: Gooood afternoon. What a beautiful day. Y’know, this kind of day makes me think, the thing about human perception—

Receptionist: The what.

Cub: The thing about human perception is it’s subjective. I did a PhD on this. So sometimes you could think you saw someone bring something into the office that you need to write down in the biohazards register, but actually, you could report to your boss there wasn’t anything there.

Receptionist: Sir, you are trying to hide an eight-foot-tall Venus fly trap behind your back. It’s taller than you are.

Cub: Seven foot at most.

Receptionist: [sighs] I guess I didn’t see anything. You want a mint?

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

Cascaded from Legal: Employees are required to familiarize themselves with the new and expanded Dispute Resolution Policy.

Pursuant to this, threatening to eat your senior manager is NOT an approved method of settling conflicts and WILL result in disciplinary action.

Lava traps are ALSO EXPLICITLY DISALLOWED.

YR 2, DAY 407 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Cub, you don’t have to bribe me to get into the building after hours. You literally work here. I know you have a 24-hour pass. Just use it on the main door.

Cub: Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?

Receptionist: Try bribing an IT tech for codes to the secure areas instead.

Cub: Got those already. Phishing email. But y’know, all the techs make triple what they pay you.

Scar: And! I wanted a mint.

Receptionist: The mints are FREE.

Scar: It tastes better if it’s not!

Receptionist: That doesn’t make ANY sense! You two get back here and explain!

NOTICE TO FRONT DESK STAFF

Please find attached the Employee Satisfaction Survey. As always, we look forward to listening to your views to make NHO a Great Place To Work. Participation is mandatory.

Our recent payment settlement unfortunately means no raises this financial year.

Operational note: does any Front Desk team member know how to disconnect the ex-photocopier from the power supply without it immediately blowing up? You are all being very unhelpful about it???

YR 3, DAY 763 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Oh, hey, Scar.

Scar: …

Receptionist: Wait—Scar? Buddy? Are you okay?

Scar: Have you seen Cub?

Receptionist: Not since last week, I think.

Scar: Oh.

Receptionist: It’s the night shift. Was he supposed to meet you?

Scar: Yeah. They gave him a solo mission, and I dunno what time he was supposed to get back, either, but it wasn’t two o’clock in the morning. I’m just gonna…hey, can I wait down here? Until he gets in?

Receptionist: Sure. If you pull the chairs together, I guess you could make a kind of bed. I’ll keep an eye on the cameras.

-

Scar: I mean, nothing can take down Cub, right? That man’s a tank, I tell you. A genuine tank.

Receptionist: Yeah. Definitely.

Scar: He would have called me if something went wrong.

Receptionist: He would’ve.

Scar: What time is it?

Receptionist: Just gone 3am.

-

Receptionist: Look, if you’re not going to sleep, I’m ordering you pizza.

Scar: Ooooh. Let’s get wings and make a night of it while we wait. Catch!

Receptionist: This is two hundred dollars.

Scar: Yeah, can we get sides?

-

Receptionist: Just gone 4am, before you ask.

Scar: I didn’t ask!

Receptionist: I saw you open your mouth. You’re really worried, aren’t you.

Scar: Noooo, I’m not worried. I never worry about Cub.

Receptionist: Cub’s always seemed way too capable to have a problem with a mission.

Scar: Yeah.

Receptionist: You two go back a long way, huh?

Scar: There’s just the two of us. It’s always been just the two of us. And, I’ll be honest, I like this work, we have fun doing it, but why’d they send him out solo? And you know what’s worse, I can’t even ask! If we put a foot out of line, we— [breaks off into a coughing fit]

Receptionist: Are you okay?

Scar: I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m fresh as a daisy.

Receptionist: It sure sounded like your own throat just tried to cut you off.

Scar: Well, maybe I just care a lot about the office Data Combustion Policy.

Receptionist: I think you mean the Data Protection Policy? On second thoughts, I remember last year’s Christmas party, so maybe not—oh, hey.

Scar: What?

Receptionist: I saw something on the cameras, is that—

Cub: Yo.

Scar: Oh my God Cub I was so worried.

Cub: ‘m fine. [blurrily] Are those buffalo wings?

Scar: You are so not fine. You can have wings when you’re lying down!

Cub: ‘m taking these wings.

Receptionist: Here’s the first aid kit. You need to close the bag or the rest of the wings will fall out, guys. Guys. Look where you’re going. You have to open the doors before you go through them. Take the first aid kit with you!

YR 5, DAY 1561 OF CONTRACT

Receptionist: Good morning, and welcome to—oh, it’s you two. You brought a guest?

Cub: Howdy. This is Grian.

Grian: Apparently I work here now. Apparently I have “limited employment options”. Someone told me I’m lucky I’m not dead.

Scar: Haha, Mondays, am I right! So he’ll need a pass, and maybe a helping hand if she spaces out in the atrium.

Receptionist: Sure…oh, Grian, you’re on the system already. Here, take a temporary pass, and we’ll have your real one ready by lunchtime. Uh, if you need any help—

Grian: Wait, my date of birth is wrong on your screen. It’s the year before.

Receptionist: Did you just…read that backwards from the others side of my computer?

Scar: Wow, Grian, another nosebleed?

Grian: Shut up.

Cub: Your brain must be shrivelled up like a raisin by now.

Grian: Still works better than Scar’s!

Scar: [leans on the reception desk as the other two leave, bickering] Sooo…Grian’s not allowed outside without a Director’s approval.

Receptionist: Is that right?

Scar: Scary stuff, huh? If you happened to see him leave with us, and we just forgot to show you a permit…can I convince you into some sort of deal? As a friend?

Receptionist: You know, you can just ask a friend to do you a favor, you don’t have to pay me. I’ve known you for five years. I’m not gonna turn you in.

Cub: [calls] You coming, Scar?

Scar: I gotta go! Grian’s just a Watcher, she’s not dangerous. Grab some cash from Cub’s bottom desk drawer. They don’t even search our office anymore, so it’s just labelled ‘proceeds of crime (not)’. Cub’s traps will let you past.

Receptionist: Wait, are you—was that person—a Watcher—holy shit—

Scar: See ya later! Get the money!

Receptionist: [rolls eyes] Of course, sir. Have a nice day.

*chau Grian uses he/she pronouns

*Check out tibby’s chau tag!

[joannasteez]

almost blue (1)

pairing: cody rhodes x black reader warning: explicit descriptions of violence and sexual activity. minors please do not interact. readers eighteen and older interact only please. descriptions of alcohol consumption and the use of deadly weapons. authors note: JOHN WICK AU!!! so excited to share this! i had this sorta kinda in my back pocket for a while, while trying to build up tanks of blood, which you can find to read here. not everything in this is super true to the world of john wick but the most im using as inspo is the aesthetic anyways. also a one off mention of john wick lol. that and some of the names for certain things. italics in the beginning represent flashback perspective music inspo: almost blue by chet baker word count: 4800 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce @crxssjae

new york. the continental hotel and it's flatiron shape. september 2019. the rain, this soft unsteady pitter patter. a gentle gray coloring the sky. the air cold and biting. the city filling its brim with a sleepless droning. 

and amongst the deathly sort of decadence—gold trim and blood red carpet floors—bath water disturbs till its sloshing to overtake the tub. a messy spill against the floor. his lips working over yours. fingers kneading deep enough into skin that it stains with the print of his touch. nails tender in his hair and your body melting in till the heat of him breaks over your skin. his everything settled into the wisp and charm of your voice as his pleasure becomes whole. too great.

—but his memory tires from old moments like these, a shell of itself as it attempts in vain to restore to it's former glory. has been in a perpetual state of exhaustion for sometime. but this straining is singular. a throbbing at the forefront of his skull. a tight pulling pain at the nape of his neck till it's creeping wild at the tip of his spine. forcing him to grow ill as he works to reminisce. body wistfully undone. and what words do the men of our time say about insanity? to be in a perpetual state of trying, doing, in hopes of something new. and so on he went, flirting with this disaster, this run of nostalgia, so much so that memory has forsaken him, taking these little complexities —the new york rain and the taste of your lips— along with it. 

but cody can handle the load and reload of a glock 26 as fast as he does it well. a deft maneuvering before the barrel raises and he pulls the trigger, the recoil driving sharp. a bullet through the skull and the splattering of blood. whoever meant to kill him, now dead in his wake. 

but what cruelty this is. a traitor to his own body. living with nothing but the means to kill and tattered memory. with him still, only, all of the things left unsaid—

you'd smelt of vanilla. the yearning about his tongue deep and yet to be settled. his lips a shadow as they feathered against yours. his questions overdone with a frightening passion. "where are you ten years from now?" 

your fingers slipped over his skin, as easy as they would over porcelain. a delicate taking over wet soapy muscle till it clawed over his shoulders and against the heat of his cheeks. "somewhere warm and comfortable. retired".

where ever you were, is where he wanted to be. "am i with you?"

a reversion, just barely perceptible, but there all the same. something like fear, like hesitation, pushing against a situational sort of tenderness in your eyes. the warmth slowly but forcibly outdone by the cold. lukewarm. just like the fate of too old bath water. not enough of either extreme. lukewarm. 

"seems more like a question for you to answer".

"answer it anyways".

and he couldn't feel your lips anymore. too much air, too much distance. caution thick. woven about your words. the tones. the inflections. "ten years from now, you'll be somewhere as warm, as comfortable and retired too".

"am i with you?" 

to draw such a long length of need into the air. passions and hopes and dreams. cody knew. it would've been easier to take the sear of a bullet, the ripping tear in of a knife or the crack of something blunt and unforgiving to his skull. those things easier than the down trod of such a silence. your eyes having gained more and more distance. fear peaking soft and brown before the quick slip over of indifference. like you didn't care for his whispered words sounding too much like forever. and recovery from bullets and knives and blunt force was tedious. sewn up skin and the reformation of fine motor skill. but this. the way you suffered him to feel the drift away of your body and the simple, delicate, eager push in of your touch. something in his heart—amongst the lukewarm water—failed. this low dropping into a less lively place. 

new york. the continental hotel and its flatiron shape. june 2024. a peak of the sun amidst more grayish than white clouds against an icy pale blue sky. the air breezy with a teasing smell of rain. like a stray tendril before some great unraveling. the city as sleepless as it's ever been. 

and amongst the deathly sort of decadence—scarlet sage in bloom and the ever present air of readymade violence—cody sips at a short glass of brandy. an edgy spike to his tongue as it settles. everything of the continental he possessed now lost to time and the overwork of his sore tired memory. lost to a bout of corrosion done by words left unsaid. because he did not remember your answer after the persistence of his "am i with you?” all thats left, this great blurring. of words and the finer littler complexities. your lips and your eyes and the soft ways of your touch. and maybe it came to be this way for good reason. using such a burn to his ego to fuel the fire of his rage. revenge for memories unforgettable. around the glass of brandy, his hands feel stronger. less careful in how they hold. caution be damned. he sips again to finish. his finger buttoning his suit jacket, making way from the bar and across the communal space of the hotel. 

warmth at his ear and a twitch in his trigger finger. something like eyes resting over him. watching him.

he continues to a connecting hallway. elevators and mosaic floors. maybe the brandy wasn't the best idea, but neither was coming to such sacredly awful ground. lovers trauma and all that bullshit jazz. 

the fourteenth floor is quiet. his steps carpeted by soft wool. a second twitch in his trigger finger that leads into the sharp driving heat reminiscent of staggering gun recoil. a sweet burning in his arm, the muscles knowing, remembering. but he has nothing of use on him. nothing to snuff out and quiet that vicious call of death. his hotel room styled with a modernistic flare to it's luxury. clean and unadorned. a simple reflection of his own style thankfully, but nothing extravagant to weaponize. he would have to, if needed, to make due. a slim ball point pen, sleek and multifunctional, rests next to a complimentary bottle of wine. "enjoy your stay", in cursive. cody feels the warmth at the tip of his ear again, something greater than a simple bout of paranoia. his fingers slip the pen into his pocket, a reversing in his steps to triple check the locking function of the room doors.

and he shouldn't be so wound up should he? conducting business was, is, has always been forbidden on hotel grounds. 

his fight or flight saying otherwise. breathing over his skin overwhelmingly warm. lingering wearily. intuition always a nagging son of a bitch but never wrong. it's never failed him. 

cody showers, stands amidst the icy rain of too cold water. cody showers, because warm baths terrify something in his body. the possibility of turning stale and lukewarm. too distant and uninviting to be either extreme. like eyes and soft lips he can barely form well enough to reimagine. 

and the bed sheets are welcoming. slipping along his skin with a delicate relief. but still, something feels wrong. a heaviness to the air that precedes this faithful old tryst with life. with death. the ring of his phone working to unburden him suddenly, but for only some seconds. the number blocked. he answers, rushing to fish that ball point pen from his dress pants. sleek and multifunctional in his grip. but the urgency in his maneuvering cuts short with the slip in of something dangerously angelic. memory sore and exhausted no more, but now rushing back to him fervid and unrelenting. a tender charming tone in his ear that disrupts the stalwart build of his resolve. september 2019. june 2024. five years of an almost complete pain. icy feeling wind with the teasing of a torrential down pour. almost there but not quite. the anger and the pain never red enough. the sadness almost blue. 

"the loft in tribeca" you start. cody commits it all to memory. the words, the tones, the inflections. shuffling to rough his pants on. pen in his pocket. phone wedged to his ear as his fingers rip off the casing of a pillow. body easy as it maneuvers to protect his six o'clock, leaning against the wall. his eyes scope along the room. an over examination. waiting. "if you're not dead in the next 30 minutes, meet me there". 

the call drops. 

the slow unlocking click of his hotel room door. his muscles burn with remembrance. eyes sharp. his ears attune. the shells of them warm. cautioned steps approach the entry way of the bedroom but they fail to go unnoticed. thudding against the soft carpet. and if not for the possibility of his demise, cody would laugh. surely this was amateur hour. boots and inconspicuous were no more suited together than suede in the rain. and he'd made that rookie mistake before. back when he was a rookie. but the high table were no idiots, sending rookies to bring his head in, unless they hated him that much and felt he should feel the brunt of that hatred with some disrespect. and disrespect it was. 

cody's breath holds. his head thumping against the wall before he makes a swift crouch to his knees. a gun rounding the corner, and a bullet flying aimed for where his head had knocked in. a simple quick diversion. nothing special or particularly extravagant, but enough to give him seconds to maneuver. and oh this is disrespect in deed. dominik mysterio the source of his current heavy breathed, adrenaline rushing circumstance. cody knuckling the hold of the still upward pointed gun with a punch before another sinks into domink's abdomen. a short grunt breaking from the scrappy, ill-sophisticated, mullet wearing piece of shit. and surely dominik is more of a piece of shit when his heavy boot toughs into cody's jaw. racing for the gun. 

but cody is quick. has felt and faced harsher things. if anything, its more of an irritation he feels than a full measure of pain. it was hard maintaining good skin considering the life he led. he spits against the carpet. iron on his tongue. red staining the clean line designs. he reaches for dominik's leg just before he's in reach of the gun. pulling him near and flipping him over quickly. a rough hand in the silk of domink's mullet as he rains down punches with the other.  cody ill satisfied as he hears the sloppy singing of grunts from the younger mysterio. and as his frustration mounts, swindled by the audacity of the high table, dominik gains an advantage. his hips shifting up to propel cody, his arms lean and tight and trapping over cody's and rolling. 

"you three piece suit, hugo boss wannabe wearing motherfucker", dominik's face bloody and angry. his fists balled and quick as he comes down against cody's face. 

the impression of the pen presses into cody's thigh. memory and dexterity working like a trained muscle. amidst the  barrage of fists, cody reaches for the sleek ball point pen. clicking the tip and rushing it into dominik's side. harsh vicious stabs till the pain takes hold enough for him to hesitate. plunging the inky tip into his neck, where blood flows to gush. breaking up out of his skin. choking on air and the pain of a slow to come death. 

"bulletproof three piece suits asshole", cody roughs out. kicking dominik for satisfaction. 

if you're not dead in the next 30 minutes, meet me there

the loft is the same. unadorned by that uncanny but natural weathering of time and neglect. warm homely autumn inspired tones with splashes of green and hand carved wooden furniture. cody ever the horrendous sucker for hand carved shit. an intimate union of labor and passion. ever the reflection of a once lively relationship. carefully cultivated, ending poorer than a bastard dying with his eyes wide open. because when you go that way, you deserve it. but cody? his passions didn't deserve that violent abrupt end. and yet here he is, creeping past the entrance. a painful stuttering of footfalls as he goes. muscles sore and his skin on fire. 

dominik mysterio was a warm up. a warning even. the call must've went out. a bounty worth enough for people to try him. the train ride to tribeca interestingly violent. a woman with a knife, a man with a gun and another thinking his bare hands were some great unstoppable force. and no, cody did not make quick work of them. not as quickly as he would've liked. but he managed. and at the very least, he'd suffered a slitting cut to his cheek and a laceration to his chest. that piece of shit running the blade right through his tattoo. some maybe secondary bruising and a bad headache. but he's not dead. not like the idiots that tried and failed to kill him. 

the loft, much like the continental hotel, is agreed upon neutral ground. a place for trysts and the sharing of information. or rather, thats what it used to be. now, cody isn't so sure. 

and his limping is pathetically loud. shoes a heavy clack against the floor. makes him bristle annoyed. you stand just behind the kitchen island. wine bottle opened. a glass in hand as you sip. more beautiful than he remembers. soft looking still, your eyes casting over the rim as you sip, undeniably deceptive. 

a gun lays easy on the coffee table sat between two couches. too easy. but his displeasure gets the best of him. he shifts for it quickly. a swift up of his hands positioned about the gun, aiming for your face. 

you knew his whereabouts. so much so that you knew the whereabouts of the people trying to kill him. taking the chance to trust could cost him his life. and cody quite likes his life. 

"you had me scared a little bit". a gentle float of words. a finger dancing along the rim of the wine glass. a daring stare down the barrel of the gun. "i thought you got bested by a second rate mysterio". and when cody doesn't move, captured by pain, caution and the mystique of your presence, your eyes roll. his form fixed and perfected. trigger finger cool, but his heart unsure. "cut the melodrama. put the gun down cody". 

"you knew i was being followed", he clips. jaw tight. 

"i mean...duh...", you give. dry and teasing. finishing your wine. "half of that was me, and lets not be silly", covering the length of distance between your bodies slowly. a stalking patience. a fierce feline approach. "you shot a bullet through the skull of one of thee most important men. finding out don't come cheap when you fuck with the high table". 

"everybody seems to forget I had to bury my father", the barrel of the gun kept high with perfect aim as you near closer. "killing that sack of shit was just me evening the score". 

"i didn't kill your father cody". 

was that sincerity? empathy? a sudden waft in of warmth after years in the cold. it felt unreal. true but unreal. and he was sure it wouldn't last. 

"obviously", cody bites out. 

your forehead nestles against the barrel of the gun. his memory overwrought. his senses in a frenzy. a horrible mixture in his skin of pain and elation. steeped with the fear of having to endure another sudden vanishing. angry that such an endurance was his portion in the first place. 

"so then why is the gun still pointed at me?"

his fixed form eases. your hand slipping the gun from his hold gently. fire over his skin as you touch him for the first time in five years. a deft maneuvering about the cold heavy metal to expose the contents of the magazine. amusement coloring your eyes and spreading over your mouth for a teasing little smile. 

"they're blanks anyways", emptying the magazine as the faux bullets fall to the floor. your hand settling down the gun and its magazine on the coffee table. leaving him in an exasperated awe as you head toward the kitchen. "just wanted to see how thin your patience has worn". 

your chin jutting over to the couch. hands full of medical supplies as you pad over to him softly. his body aching and slow as it rests into the tender leather seating, but moving without delay still. always under the gentle charm of your voice, his being falling under this servile sort of subjection. making him bristle silently within himself. all that time and distance amounting to nothing for his resolve. 

cody surrenders. mind over matter no longer needed. succumbing to the full weight of his pain. hair messy with red droppings of other peoples blood. his muscles sore and the hammering about his skull diligent and taunting. 

"my pain has always been a funny little joke to you". 

you pull the coffee table closer to the wide spread of cody's legs. your own slipping over to straddle the strength of one of his thighs. your body warm and comforting against his skin. an old feeling blooming in his chest. you were doing this on purpose. he's sure of it. to see him waver and yield to the charm of your presence. gentle touch dabbing to rid his cheek of dried blood before you went about cleaning the wound. his fingers itching to form to your body, desperate to push dull nails into your skin again. to form in and caress with the intent to renew his memory. 

your eyes flit to his crotch. "its a lot more than little. give yourself some credit", you muse. applying butterfly stitches. 

the air is thick. forces him to maintain a steady breath. memory overwrought once more. a mighty rushing in that heats him whole. your hands working his button up open. the lax take of your palm to his belly forcing a throb to the crux of his thighs. the closing in of the distance makes for easy intimacy. a registration of the lesser noticeable, more complex things. the prick of your nails telling familiar stories, as they work to rid him of the shirt all together. tender and caring, similar to how they used to be. your eyes roaming and thinly glazed over. he spares a glance at the wine bottle. halfway done. your ministrations functional but indulgent of the moment. of his skin.

a quicksand sort of state of affairs. if he doesn't pull himself together now, he would fall into you. full consumption. and he can't possibly risk his life because he's half hard and overdone with sentiment. 

"how long have you been following me?"

you apply something like a salve after cleaning the nasty chest wound. an anesthetic. how sweet of you. to suddenly take his pain into consideration.

"a few months". 

"why am i not dead?"

your body adjusts a top of him. somehow closer. your knee nearly running into his crotch. "yet", you give. beginning the process of suturing. "the question everyone wants to know is why is cody rhodes not dead yet". breaking shortly to peer over him. a full examination it seems. heat rising in his cheeks. "cause he's no john fuckin wick. so why is he still here". pressure of the needle feeding into his skin. your lip tucking under your teeth in full concentration. "people don't know resilience is the bane of even your own existence. a little meat puppet made to take push pins". 

he scoffs. "this doesn't feel like a compliment if it is". 

you finish off the suture. a hesitant but delicate maneuvering off his thigh to rid of the medical supplies. the heat of you gone in an instant. "its an observation". the uncorking pop of that half drunken wine bottle. a generous crimson pour that you sip at. 

"on what basis exactly?" 

a whipping swing of kitchen cabinet doors. a bottle of brandy and a short glass. for him it seems. and the pained parts of him grow excited at the possibility of a simple taste. anything for a temporary fix. something to numb the burn in his bones. 

"very close encounters".

and no you don't dip into the leather to sit beside him when you return. you assume a much more compromising position. a full straddle of his legs as you gift him his little amber colored remedy. and if at any moment he ever thought he needed it and actually didn't, let this be the moment where that edgy spike to his tongue becomes essential. something to help him as he searches for a secure hold at control. and of course he drinks it all. an easy burning slip against the back of his throat as he feels the heat of you settling back into him. once dormant urges awakening in his fingers. supple thighs lined up over his kevlar woven dress pants. the baggy button up you'd decided was good enough for his visit thin and something like revealing. the other details left to his imagination. and God was that prone to running at any moment. tripping and falling away from him well enough till his crotch became to uncomfortable to bare the perfect fit of his pants. your empty hand returning to where it'd been. roaming tenderly against slow but steady bruising skin. his nose picking up the sweet wine on your breath. the glaze about your eyes. thighs over him, clenching slightly. 

"you were always a little too indulgent with the wine", cody gives. 

your eyes flitting to his crotch again. bulge more prominent. the teasing of your nails inching over past his navel. your throat humming. "and you with me". 

"don't think much of it". an attempt made in vain he thinks. feeling the hard throb of himself as soon as the words leave him. "it tends to happen. adrenaline from almost dying multiple times", his thigh knocking up into yours to grab at your attention. tipsy eyes drifting to the cold blue of his. "now spill. why am i still breathing?"

"because the number isn't high enough yet". another sip of wine before turning to rest it at the table. your hands free to run over the muscle of him. about his shoulders till your thumbs are caressing at his nape and the hard cut of his jaw. and that nearly drives him to insanity. the weight of you resting right where he pulses with life. "i take your head now, i'd be settling. and the game of it all ain't that fun right now anyways. its too amateur hour-ish for me. i wanna battle it out with the adults". 

"im flattered", cody deadpans. 

you smile. thumb soothing over his lip. "as you should be". 

"why else", the pulse about his blood wild. an unadulterated beating that coaxes to life the run off of his imagination. his touch a staggering grip at your jaw. pulling your eyes to him. lowly sat pretty brown eyes with a penchant for doing him inexplicably dirty. but they draw him in all the same. his stomach empty. filled with nothing but the slosh of brandy. cody feeds into the daze of it. the possibility of a buzz. your lips a breath from his. desire on your tongue by way of the sweet smell of wine. "talk".

your hips shift over him. a rut into the fabric. friction to appease the ache, he's sure of it. thin panties and the desperate curl in of your nails. running into his scalp. trying to persuade him with tender touches and the charm of such wanton need. and its working. fuck, itsworking well. had worked some time ago and doing well now just the same. because cody, despite such deadly skill, was not immune to this type of torture. could not battle it with stalwart patience or dapper precision. and as you rut against him again, mind clouded by wine and your own intent, his fingers burn to touch you more. not so simple and plain but disgustingly greedy. his lips smooth against the seam of yours. amber brandy and red wine a near perfect melding together. 

"fuck", you relent. your nose knocking soft into his. laughing with a wry sort of amusement. "it would stroke your ego to a nice little finish if i did say it wouldn't it?"

cody hums. slips his hold till its anchored about your neck. measured in its pressure. his tongue licking to wet his lips. the slight of it forcing a tremble into your body. 

maybe his suffering isn't a lonely one after all. 

you whimper. taking a hard swallow. 

"vindicate me", cody rasps. 

your struggle is apparent. surfaces with a tear that stains your cheek. body undone by the defeat of such an intimate admission. 

"i miss you", fragile and nearly unclear. 

he smiles mirthless against the soft ways of your skin. his nose buried into the dip of your neck. "i don't trust your sentiment".

"it's true cody". 

"she says, after admitting she wants to kill me".

"better me than someone else". your fingers abandoning him to grip into the leather of the couch. a tight take to it that fastens your body into him. your mouth lax as your lips slip over his. the tease of a kiss filled with too much tension to bare. "touch me", you give. a plea and a command all the same. 

his fingers working in swiftly, a firm obedience, cupping your cheeks to steady the wild go of your tongue as it snakes to slip at his. a frail whimper singing from your chest and the return of your sharp nails. digging against his scalp to bring him impossibly closer. nearly suckling his tongue whole as your hips rut at him again. a less cautious shifting as you look for harsher friction. the pain of a murderous sort of labor and the pleasure of touching you again warring over the tenderness of his skin. coaxing him to groan and wince. strong, tired fingers forcing your hips to rock over him. an easy, stable grind along the hard bulge of his cock that leaves you living without the proper brilliance of words. reduced to the struggle of too pleasured moans. 

your teeth prickling and sharp as they snag against his lip. fingers deft, undoing his zipper. the heat of him hard and throbbing dangerous. his headache out done by more pressing matters, hazy and his senses going numb with lust. palms persistent, sinking into supple flesh. and fuck does it feel good. even better when his patience thins. fingers stretching the fabric of your panties till they tear. the slick way of your arousal making for an easier pace. a sweet teasing slip through your slit. his imagination wild and unfettered. even the thought of slipping in to have his full way with you enough to twist the base of his belly. groaning into your mouth.  

fire in his fingers as they pull against the fat of your ass. sweltered skin sweet in his palms. forming with every push and spread and pry that he gives. 

your mouths depart. a hesitant slipping away. breaths heavy. your face hiding in the dip of his neck. your pussy messy. bewitching even as you grind mindless into him. an undulating heat over his skin. "cody", a mantra as it travels to slight the beating of his pulse. 

the tell tale trembling in your body. a breath away from bliss. and he can feel the build in his bones. the return of an ache thats been transformed. throbbing and restless. an urgency he works to relieve. and with it so does your mouth. less desperate to consume him. melting to linger at his lips. breathy and stuttered. 

"right there angel", he gives. a whisper against your lips. corralling the last bits of resolve to break. your hips stuttering but caressing faithful still. coming undone. rutting greedily to grasp at the last bits of pleasure.

and here he finds that charming sort of relief. an unfurling warmth about his skin. snatching your body into him as he strokes against you and throbs, coming undone. release pooling and spurting against the baggy button up you'd worn to tease him with. 

your lips finding his again. needy still. and he accepts without wait. ready and willing. your moaning along his tongue delicate and wispy. reminiscent of a memory once forgotten. new york. september 2019. cody cups your face again. thumbs dusting over the apple of your cheeks. on a mission to stain himself with this moment. sweet red wine mixed with aged brandy. 

she was getting to be a lil too long so i had to break her up! but how do we feel about our little hitman?

[stormsthatrage]

The Hair Thing

At some point, the hair stops being about what was stolen from Xanxus and starts being about what was stolen from Tsunayoshi.

Of course, in the beginning, it's like this: Squalo knows the Vongola Ring should have been Xanxus's.

It’s simple. Xanxus was first in line for the throne after his older brothers died — and damn whatever Timoteo says, those three were his brothers. Even considering the fact that Xanxus wasn't a blood son after all, the fact remains that for the majority of his life, Xanxus was a Vongola heir. He was claimed as one, he was raised as one, he was loved as one. (And again, fuck what Timoteo says. If Enrico had still been alive, Timoteo would have been dead for the mere suggestion that Xanxus wasn't family as well as Family). And as such, he should have been on the throne far before any other candidate could ever have been brought in.

Also? Xanxus had the skills to be just about a damn perfect Don Vongola. He knew how Vongola worked. After all the time spent learning at his brothers' knees, he knew everything that the Capo dei capi could possibly need to know, and had a bunch of practice at it to boot. He was familiar with the duties of the head and the duties of the underbosses and the duties of the lowest ranks on the street. He knew how to keep his people safe. He knew how to enter a hostile negotiation and come out on top. He was great at strategy, both on and off the battlefield, and, oh yeah — speaking of the battlefield, Xanxus was really, really fucking strong. And so on. Squalo could have spent a week listing all the reasons Xanxus would have made a perfect Tenth.

So yeah. Squalo was fucking pissed when Timoteo revealed his lies, revealed his betrayal, and revealed that Xanxus had never actually been in line for the throne at all.

And Squalo's anger damn near turned him insane when Timoteo put his fucking Sky in ice.

So yeah. The hair thing. It begins because of what was stolen from Xanxus. As permanent as the fury embedded in his bones (as permanent as the rage still twisting in the back of his mind, a quiet, infernal madness that doesn't heal even when they finally break his Sky out of a fucking ice-seal) is his determination to never cut it, not until what was stolen is restored.

His determination grows even stronger when he meets Timoteo's choice heir for the first time. Tsunayoshi is weak. Tsunayoshi is a coward. Tsunayoshi is slow, and inexperienced, and absolutely not qualified for the throne.

The only thing Tsunayoshi has going for him as a candidate is his blood, his freakish primo-like genes, but ancestry has no impact on capability, and Squalo has been by Xanxus's side for too long to be okay with the thought of Tsunayoshi leading the Vongola into the ground from incompetence and cowardice.

Squalo's initial impression of Tsunayoshi, of course, does not withstand prolonged contact with him. It turns out that underneath the weakling appearance is, in fact, a perfect Capo dei Capi — different from the type Xanxus would have been, but no less ideal for it. Tsunayoshi is strong, fierce, determined, protective, smart, skilled, and — as it turns out, most importantly — kind.

Tsunayoshi is unbelievably kind. Impossibly kind. So kind Squalo finds himself searching for proof that it's a mask, because it has to be, because no one could be that genuinely good — but no matter how hard he searches, he only finds more evidence that somehow it's not a mask, it's real. And Squalo can only watch in awe and terror as Tsunayoshi's compassion spreads out like a fucking fungus, infecting others and the world and the fabric of the underworld itself, until Squalo has no choice but to believe that Tsunayoshi is going to save everyone, both Vongola and outsiders alike, from all the blood and suffering they were once destined to stain themselves with.

Squalo gets a front-row seat to Tsunayoshi's... Tsunayoshi-ness, as shit goes down in the wildest year of his life. There's the undoing of a ten-year-apocalypse, the undoing of an ancient curse, the making of what feels like a thousand different treaties, hell, fucking earth flames. At some point, Squalo stops keeping track, because so many absurd things have happened. And after it all, Tsunayoshi turns 15, and the kid and his guardians finally come to Italy.

For some reason, as soon as they step foot on home soil at the airport, they're ditching their Iron-Fort appointed chaperones to infest the Varia Castle. The kid and his equally impossible guardians make themselves comfortable, and as another year passes, every single one of the brats manages to endear themselves to the Varia Commanders — not that any of them would say it, of course.

(Years later, Squalo will remember his initial amusement at their sudden appearance at the Castle, and will realize that instead, he should have been furious. Why, why, after everything, didn't he think to wonder why they didn't want to stay at the Iron Fort? Sure, Tsunayoshi was Timoteo's chosen heir, but that didn't guarantee safety in the bastard's presence. After all, Xanxus had once been Timoteo's chosen son.)

The year ends, and the time comes. Tsunayoshi takes the throne.

Squalo doesn't cut his hair. He doesn't cut his hair, and for a moment, for a brief period of wonderful relief, the abstinence is not performed out of fury. The rage, the hurt, the insanity clawing at the back of his mind — it's dimmed, as dormant as it could ever be, after everything. Xanxus is happy, and frankly, after the ice, more comfortable heading the Varia than the main family anyway. Tsunayoshi is a better Vongola X than anyone could have dreamed. Vongola is stronger than it has ever been, his Sky is happy, and Tsunayoshi is leading the underworld into an impossibly bright future.

So Squalo does not cut his hair, because he took an oath not to and he is a man of his word. But he can imagine a world in which he did not take the oath, a world in which the hair was not a vow, and was instead a mere visual expression of his fury and resolve. It is a world where, after the ceremony in which the kid donned the title of Vongola X and Xanxus called the kid "little brother" in front of half of Italy, Squalo went home and pulled out a knife and finally got rid of the damned ponytail.

That period of blissful relief lasts right up until seven months later, when Squalo finds himself exhausted and a little bit tipsy and no longer up for celebrating the destruction of the human-trafficking ring the Alliance had just broken open.

He stumbles up a secluded staircase in the Iron Fort, and down a quiet hallway, intent on locating a room in which he can fucking take a nap. He spies a door that looks promisingly abandoned, tricks the lock open, and enters the room to find Tsunayoshi curled up against the far corner, spine pressed tightly against the wall, head tucked between his knees.

Even from the doorway, Squalo can hear how rapidly the kid is gasping for breath, can tell how painful it is.

For a moment, Squalo thinks someone has had the audacity, the stupidity, to dare and poison his Sky's little brother.

And then he hears the strangled sob, and puzzle pieces that he didn't even know he had come slamming together with the force of a fucking asteroid impact.

He's across the room in a heartbeat, pulling on his rain flames to calm the kid down. As he tries to take Tsunayoshi's hands, the kid flinches back. Holds his hands away from Squalo, like there's something coating them and he doesn't want to get Squalo dirty.

All of a sudden, Squalo thinks of his initial impression of Tsunayoshi. Not suited for the underworld, and especially not suited for leading the Vongola. Best left as a civilian, far away from Italy.

He bites back a hysterical laugh as he realizes that he had been right all along.

Tsunayoshi. Sweet, compassionate Tsunayoshi. Too stupidly soft to not get maimed by all the suffering he sees, by all the people he can't save, by all the people he has to fight because they are too far gone to save. Too ridiculously loving to not loathe himself every time he sends family onto the battlefield.

Too strong to let any of that stop him. Too kind to turn his back on those who are defenseless, who need his help.

Squalo gives up on cradling Tsunayoshi's hands. He sits down next to the kid, legs splayed out in front of him, and then hauls the kid (still just a kid, god, they are all so young) into his lap, back to chest. He wraps his arms around Tsunayoshi’s ribcage, as tight as he can without causing pain, tucking his chin over the kid’s head, and pours rain flames into his shaking frame.

The hyperventilating stops. The agony and self-hatred, so strong that Tsunayoshi's flames are radiating it into the air, do not.

His Sky's kid brother sobs into his neck, shakes apart in his arms, and all Squalo can feel is, in the back of his head, that fucking rage flaring back to life from dormancy.

_____________

In the end, it's like this. Squalo knows the Vongola Ring should have been Xanxus's.

Tsunayoshi gets it anyway.

And so Squalo never cuts his hair.

______________________________________________________

Edited 7/14/2023. Crossposted to AO3.

(AN from 7/13/2023): Authorial Disclaimer: Normally I don't post fic hot off the press but in my defense I didn't know this was going to be a fic. I just wanted to post an idea! It was going to be like. 1 paragraph! Max! I swear! ...So I'm posting my definitely-short-idea, because I planned on posting today, and I'll edit and revise and add it to ao3 later. Because that is a thing I am going to need to do now. Apparently. Later, after bedtime. Dang, but these plot bunnies are out of control...

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Guess We Belong to Each Other

🩸Previous Parts Here🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, urges, nervous boys, boys fussing (not a lot don't worry), d/s undertones, baby talks, graphic description of Dom bottoming, dirty talk, cursing, fingering, anal fingering, slight edging, slick as lube, name calling, past abuse, trauma, negotiating kinks (sort of), sex, rough sex, nipple play, sweet moments, firsts, playful boys, spanking, cliffhanger, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: explicit (AF)

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

The Alpha was close to breaking, he couldn't help it. He had urges he was having trouble controlling and he knew it would be oh so easy to take the step he wanted. It was like an itch under his skin. A thorn in his mind. He could barely make himself stop focusing on it. It was driving him absolutely mental. He was close to doing exactly what he wanted and as he stared into the darkness he thought he'd finally made a decision.

“Don't you fucking dare.” The voice of his mate startled him but Colson's arms wrapping around his shoulders soothed the surprise.

He laid his hands over the inked skin of his lover and grumbled, resting his head back against the taller man though the position was getting awkward the larger Col’s bump grew. “But we need a bloody nursery! We only got a few monfs left.”

Kells reached over and flicked on the light switch and they stared into the spare room together. It was just across from their bedroom while Tom had the room down the hall. He very well knew it was perfect for the child he barely admitted existed but… “It's too soon.” He sighed before pulling away to turn for their bedroom.

“Bollocks it is! Look atcha!” Dom was rushing to catch up with his partner and so caught up in his dreams of hot pink paint he barely realized what he said until the omega spun on his foot and glared.

Dom stumbled almost comically to keep from hitting him but the boss couldn't laugh. How fucking dare he even imply something so… correct. Fuck. “Look at me? What about me?” He wouldn't admit it so easily though. He wasn't even that big, not really. If he wore a hoodie no could tell anything was different.

The Alpha chewed the inside of his cheek and pushed his fingers through his hair. He hadn't meant to have his foot in his mouth so early in the day. “Wha’ ya meeeean?” He tried for his patent pout but they both knew he was a sociopath. He was the bunny on Monty Python- adorable but deadly. Red eyes included.

“Don't even psycho. We have time. Plenty of it. Focus on literally anything else, you're not touching that damn room.” The omega tossed up his hands in frustration and took a seat on their bed. Weekends almost always sucked because they had free time and all he wanted was to stay in bed but his need for control made him get up, he always had to find something to do. He used to spend weekends in his clubs but not anymore.

“Ya know tha' if we don't get it ready in time the baby will ‘ave to stay wiv us. In ‘ere. Where we sleep. And fuck.” The boy tried a new tactic as he dropped to his knees and crawled to his mate.

“Don't worry about that.”

“Oh?” Had he won so easily?

“I'm not fucking you ever again once it's out.” The grin the man gave him was withering.

“Wha’ the fuck did I do? And stop calling our whelp an it. If you'd let The Doc tell us-”

“If you know the sex you'll get attached.”

“I'm already attached! Sos you!”

“Besides, Tom will take it if we need.”

Dom laid his palms on his lover's thighs and hung his head between the man's knees. They'd had some version of most of this conversation a few times already and were constantly talking over each other. “So middle of the night and you get ‘orny you jus’ gonna toss our baby to Tom before you crawl on me dick?” He tried to ask as their eyes met again and Colson shrugged. “Ain't gonna ‘appen.”

“It should stay with us anyway. It's not safe out there.” It was the first real thing Kells added to the conversation and it made them both pause. He wasn't even sure he realized that's what had been stopping him but once he started talking… “I can see them right now and I know they're safe. I can feel it. I hate those fluttery things but I know it means they're okay. I can keep them safe. When they're out? If I can't see them…”

“Okay. Alright. We won't worry about it.” Dom soothed, resting his forehead against his lover's as his palms found purchase against the swell of their child. “You'll keep ‘em safe. I know you will. We still need to get shite for ‘em. And… maybe we make tha’ a closet for ‘em? Eventually it can be a room but for now we need space for baby shite. Babies need so fucking much.”

“A closet could work.” Col agreed. He liked that idea. Their baby didn't just need stuff- they would get the best stuff around. He had standards of course. “And if they're in a cot we can still fuck. You just have to keep your mouth shut.”

Dom couldn't help but laugh at that, they both damn well knew the Alpha wasn't the loud one of the two but he nodded just to make his baby mumma happy. “You right. Daft of me. Fhought ya said you weren't fucking me again?” He hummed, pressing kisses to his omega's bare thigh. They'd only made it to underwear and t-shirts that morning and he was thankful, it gave him so much skin to explore.

“Not when you can do this shit to me again. Fuck that. I'll top.” Col sighed as he leaned back on his elbows, offering more of his body to the boy.

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.” Dom purred, nipping at Colson's cloth covered cock playfully.

“Oh fuck um-” He lifted up his hips when the killer tugged his boxers down and his head fell back when the boy parted his thighs and kissed skin so close to his core he could feel his breath. He pulled his feet up on the mattress and let his knees fall wider, if his partner wanted to treat him he wouldn't say no. At least his brain took sex as something to do. “I'd lay you out on your stomach, a pillow under that monster dick of yours, and I'd spread your legs so I could lick that tight little hole open.”

“Mmm yeah?” The Alpha sounded strained already and it made a fresh wave of slick warm Col’s thighs. He was waiting for his bitch to lick it up but it seemed Dom was listening first.

“I should probably try before actually. I've got a big dick and your ass is virgin. Should probably tease you a little over time. Use my mouth on you. My fingers. Get you used to being full.” His voice felt deeper, raspier as he talked. His aforementioned big dick was aching but even that was untouched. He couldn't see well enough over his stomach to know what his mate was up to but before long he was going to get pissed.

“Wanna feel yas. Wha' else?”

“When that pretty pink hole is finally stretched enough for me and you're begging like the bitch you are-”

“Yeah?” The killer's voice was breathy as hell and that wasn't the only sound Kells heard.

His brows furrowed as he pushed himself up to look for his lover who was on the floor staring at him and jacking off with Col’s boxers wrapped around his cock. “And nothing. You really gonna start with your hormonal mate and then fuck yourself?”

“Shite. No. Wait- I jus’ were really into wha' ya said! Ain't me fault.” The Brit tossed the boxers away and went to his knees, trying to fit himself back between his man's thighs.

“Yeah you're a needy fucking whore who thinks about himself first! Look at yourself!” He was teasing of course, Dom always took care of him first. Sometimes the Alpha didn't even cum as long as he brought Col pleasure. This was the first time he'd done anything like that and it made Kells even hotter for his plush ass. If only he could get inside him soon.

“I'm sorry! I know, I'm a needy wanking whore for yas but you so fucking ‘ot when ya talk like tha'!” Dom tried to explain and his lover answered him by spitting in his face. The boy blinked once. Twice- and something inside him snapped as he stood up and pulled his shirt off one handed. He knew his gaze was crimson as it fell on his omega who watched him with a confused stare. He wasn't sure if he felt more sub or Alpha in the moment and his two sides had never warred so hard. Part of him wanted to demand the other present while the other half wanted to roll over and offer his own ass. Which he couldn't yet do. Bloody hell.

Kells moved slowly because he couldn't yet tell which way his lover was heading. His red eyes said the boss was about to get fucked but his trembling form made him wonder. He gently pulled his top off and scooted backwards to the pillows. “If you want me to try fingering you there's lube in the drawer. If you want my pussy instead…” He trailed off, spreading his legs. He was getting more comfortable with parts of himself because of how much Dom loved them. Even now he was staring like the man was all he'd ever desired. A kid in a candy store that neither of them ever really got to be.

“Wha’ if we finger each over?” The Alpha finally asked, he was overwhelmed with choices and that could always lead to more.

Colson smiled and patted the bed but Dominic didn't move for the lube. “Babe-”

“Use ya slick on me.”

“Oh- yeah? Okay shit.” The omega took a shaking breath as he watched his mate crawl in bed, he didn't realize how excited he would be for this. As the boy got in place against him they shared a soft look. He knew had to be careful with their next steps. “Hike your leg up. Get close. Give me that thick ass.” He teased, completely ignoring his cautious thought. He hoped if he kept Dom preoccupied the Alpha side of him wouldn't get too aggressive.

He was surprised when the killer giggled and blushed, something more soft and sweet that he expected with that red gaze on him. When their cocks slot together they both gasped and he tried to kiss his mate into a level of calm that would help him open up. Dom's left arm that was pressed against the bed moved between them, his fingers exploring the omega's wet folds. “One?” Dom hummed, dipping a fingertip inside him to the first knuckle before pulling out and scissoring two deep. “Or two?”

“Shit- uh…” He couldn't think, not when the boy was spreading his walls open and sliding his touch out slow. He knew he was supposed to be doing something but his mind went blank for a moment. “G-give me some?” Right. He was on a mission.

The killer grinned and pumped three fingers deep before hooking them on the draw out. The bastard pressed against his spot so hard he shook but he kept his palm mostly steady as his lover wiped slick on his skin. The air in the room shifted when he reached his long inked arm around the boy. When his mate started to shake before he even touched him he tried a different way. “Here.” He offered, closing his legs tight and gently pushing on Dom’s hip until he got the hint. “Fuck my thighs?” He offered like it was completely normal and he locked his knees for an extra clench. The kid just stared at him for a moment before swallowing hard.

“Ya know I'll just end up inside yas.”

“Risk I'm willing to take.”

“But you can't get off like tha’ unless I do.”

“You don't know what the hell I can do, and this ain't about me. Get your dick where I tell you and be a good bitch.” Colson huffed, slapping wetly against the boy's ass. He knew this was something that could go terribly wrong and he needed to stay the dominant one. He still wasn't sure exactly what the 'test' had entailed that the asshole doctor had done to the Alpha as a kid but he had a feeling they were about to risk some flashbacks and if he went too soft Dom might break. They both wanted this to be part of their relationship and he'd help his mate through anything he could.

“Oh fuck-” Of course the killer obeyed after that but he was trembling so hard it took a second to get his cockhead between Col's drenched thighs. When he finally slipped against his core they both groaned. He groped roughly at Dom's plush cheek, right over the probably pink skin to spurn him on, one finger teasing softly over his hole.

“Did I say I'd do the work? Or did I tell you to fuck-” He didn't have to finish his question. Dom started rocking his hips, at first almost carefully but it didn't take long before he was pressing back and chasing his omega's touch but Kells kept teasing, circling the tight ring of muscle as he clenched.

Of course Dom's dick caught against his own needy hole, every thrust had his crown popping against where they both needed him, but for once the man found control to keep himself focused on the psycho who always gave him everything. He felt his lover's knot swelling but he knew it wouldn't be full when they couldn't lock together. He normally hated edging himself but watching his mate's pleasure was almost as good as his own. He was more selfish than Dom and they both knew and accepted that, it couldn't be completely overcome but he was trying. The boy was pink and glowing with sweat, his wild hair in his face. Those pretty DSL’s were parted on a harsh gasp and he knew- “Cum for me.” would work.

The Alpha's hips stuttered as he spilled hot between his mate's legs. He couldn't help the pride at painting the other man in his scent but he was confused. When the next peak of his rapture hit and his dick jerked out another load, his partner gave him a soft bite to his bottom lip and slid a finger deep inside him. “Bloody fuck oh-”

Colson's eyes went wide at the mouth on his mate. He'd never heard him be so expressive or loud and it just kept going through more he explored. “Please? Oh fuck- yes! Right- bloodyfuckdaddyright’ere-” The omega was pretty sure he got a new nickname in the mix of desperate curses and needy moans. The moment he found the boy's spot he stayed on it, giving back the same Dom had done to him. The killer trembled in his hold, his hips bucking between the two points of pleasure and it didn't take him long to bust again. No need for a command.

The control was overwhelming and he was sure his partner was overstimulated as hell but as he watched rapture roll through him he knew he wasn't done yet. He couldn't be. He had his own pressing needs. “Suck your fingers clean, you mouthy whore.” He demanded of the panting boy. He loved the sounds he was making but he knew it would help calm him. Dom obeyed, he couldn't seem to help it anymore and he sucked his own digits as masterfully as he took Col's cock. Their gazes stayed locked as he slipped his own free and when he eased his hips back the Alpha whimpered. “Don't worry. Not done with you yet.” It was harder to maneuver with his belly between them but the next time Dom’s cockhead caught against his cunt he angled and drove him deep inside.

“Cols?” The already spent killer whimpered but his omega just smirked at him.

“Lay back. Help me up. Wanna ride you.” Kells rasped. The feeling of Dom’s dick still jerking inside his tight walls made him more desperate for release than he'd realized he was. His thighs were drenched in cum and slick but it barely mattered anymore if the other could get off again. That coil of pleasure was tight in his guts and he needed his mate to fuck it out.

The Alpha blinked but moved to obey, it didn't matter how sensitive he felt, his omega needed him. His hands gripped sweat wet skin and he pushed until Col was above him. He choked on air when the man dropped hard and he hit home deeper than he'd been in a while. His baby mumma went wild above him, his body thrusting so hard he bounced off the mattress. Dom had to grab for him, he had a lot of dick to cover, but he didn't want the other falling off.

Big hands slapped hard over pale skin, nails made half moon marks in blood, they hadn't fucked like this in months but Kells was lost to need. Dom's fingers caressed every inch of him, groping over his ass, his hips, eventually even his chest. When his head fell back and he moaned at the feel the predator stayed locked on. He'd been sensitive for months but it felt overwhelming, as if he had nerves from his nipples to his spot. He felt swollen in both places and over abused but he knew if his mate stopped he'd lash out.

“Can't- fucking- knot-” Dom stuttered out and Colson couldn't care less. He wanted to warn he was close but he couldn't get air enough to talk. Between one breath and the next pleasure shot down his spine and the pressure building in his core released. He came so hard some pearly drops landed on his bitch’s face and he drenched them both in slick.

Eventually Dom had to stop his body from grinding, his hips seemed to have a mind of their own. He laid his omega gently back how they were before and eased his overspent dick free. Their sticky bodies pressed together and they panted each other's air. Dom would need his inhaler at some point but he didn't want to move. He hadn't been that nervous but a few times before in their relationship. The first time they fucked, the second when their minds were clear, and when his lover had presented for him. Each time Colson knew how to handle him and this was no different. His trauma wasn't gone of course but bad memories were helped with new and better ones. He couldn't thank Col enough but he knew not to say a word. Instead he whispered what he hoped was safe. “I love you.”

“Of course you do. I'm fucking awesome.” Kells grinned, kissing his bitch gently. He knew how much was in that one sentence and he tried to take it to heart. “I love you too. Am I hearing shit or did our door slam at some point?” He chuckled, trying to keep the mood light.

“Fink we left it open again.” Dom laughed back.

“Oops. Poor Tom.” They giggled together and hoped their friend didn't divorce them. They just got too wrapped up in each other sometimes. As their breathing calmed the omega realized their roommate wasn't the only one annoyed with them. “Shit. Got a black belt in there I swear.” Their post-coital cuddly moments were the safest feeling times that he could admit their child existed enough to talk about them. He blamed the fucking oxytocin soaking his brain.

“Aye? Being a brat to mumma today?” Dom hummed as Col rolled to his back. He reached for his baby to try and help soothe them but was surprised when he thought he felt something back. It was barely there like butterfly kisses but he was sure of it. His lover was so thin even with the swell he wasn't surprised. He honestly kept expecting to see through him like some alien moving around. He wouldn't say that of course and he tried not to make a big deal in the moment but the omega caught his misty eyes.

For once Kells was at peace enough he just laid his head back and closed his eyes, giving his partner room and permission to connect with their child. He even moved his palm to cover Dom’s to help him follow the flutters he felt from inside. “Probably no shit kicker boots.” He joked and the boy snorted he laughed so hard. He could tell his boy was tearing up but they didn't mention it. He knew as a father the Alpha had urges he needed to let him work out. He hoped as a couple they could work their way through it all together without letting fear get in the way. “They like you.” He hummed softly and he peaked his eye open to see Dom smiling.

“I'd bloody well ‘ope so.”

“I like you.” Colson sighed happily and the boy grinned wider, leaning in for a lingering kiss.

“I like you more.”

“Well that's obvious as fuck. But I like having a little bitch boy.” He teased. He didn't mean the first part of course, he wasn't sure if their love was equal because he didn't think anyone could adore someone more than he did his mate but he hoped their affection was the same. “Such a good bitch too. Even called me Daddy.” He knew he shouldn't bring it up but he wanted to let his mate know it was okay.

Dom flushed red and hid his face against Col’s shoulder. Even now he was laying more in the bitch position he guessed, his leg thrown over the man's thighs, his head on Colson's shoulder. It was comforting for him and it worked between them. “Ya caught tha’ aye?” He mumbled back.

“Hard to miss. Made me wet as fuck.” He offered, trying to ease any nerves and Dom swallowed hard before their eyes met again.

“I like making ya wet. Probably wouldn't work all the time but… When ya top?”

“When I top yeah. I can be your Daddy.” He didn't mean for his voice to drop to a near growl but it did anyway. Fuck, shouldn't they both be spent?

“You spanked me.”

“You liked it.”

“Aye.” They inched closer, their breath coming faster as Dom slid up over his omega.

When Colson's phone went off he thought to ignore it, it was a weekend and everything should be taken care of. Their lips met in a hungry kiss but Dom's phone went off next and they both cursed. He moved to pick it up off the bedside table and it took him a moment to come down to earth enough to read. It was from The Doctor, the omega boy he'd saved a few weeks before had gone missing. In fact, all the omegas that she had been helping heal were gone. What the fuck?

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 🖤

Have some more smut, I can't seem to get away from it 🤭 I'm guessing y'all don't mind. I love the equality with these boys and it's nice to see Kells adjusting. I hope you're all enjoying it 💣🖤

[cicaklah]

title: another day down here in paradise (chapter 2)

fandom: hitman

pairing: Diana/47

rating: explosive duck x3

ITS CHAPTER 2 OF THE HAVEN FIC (only a year late) GET IN THE CAR!!!

----

I actually wrote the first sex scene back in august when I was on holiday in Turkey, but then writers block and you know, all the rest of it, and now its March, and somehow today was the day I decided that I was going to finally finish this fic. I also have a good idea on what's going to happen in chapter 3, and the epilogue is already written, so hopefully not another year before an update.

Join me in enjoying 47 and Diana being horny for each other on haven island, featuring some of the actual mission this time.

Thanks again to @postalninja for wrangling my tenses.

[keirientez]

two other aus that i had like a few months ago

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

A Confession to Make

Yandere Florist (Callum) x Fem Reader

Blood red flowers laid out in a maple wood work desk, their boood red petal reminiscent of Callum’s past as a hit man. The florist hummed as he carefully cut each stem and trimmed the leaves of each flower to arrange a bouquet for his favorite customer… he wondered if (your name) understood the meaning behind these vibrant flowers and how they were a loud declaration of his love for her.

Callum sighed dreamily while he organized each chrysanthemum with white wax flowers, eucalyptus, thistle, and red hypericum berries. He truly wanted to put a lot of thought into each flower in this bouquet in hopes that his feelings finally went through to his beloved m’eudail.

Callum had been after (your name) the moment she enter his shop all those months ago. To him, she was dainty and perfect… a true lady who had easily captivated him with her shy smile and innocent eyes. Callum wanted her in ways he’d never wanted anyone else before… it was nearly carnal from how badly he wanted to bend her over and stuff her fat with his kids- woah. He had just gotten a bit to in over his head there for a moment…

The melodic dingle of the front door bell broke him from his musings. The red head quickly peaked his head out from his workroom to spot (your name) in the doorway.

“Good morning, Callum!” (Your name) giggled at the scarred man whose cheeks flushed red. “I saw that you have some new flowers in stock.”

“Give me one moment and I’ll tell you what each one is!” Callum chuckled, his green eyes scanned over her small frame in awe. (Your name) was always so cute!

Callum finished the last few touches to his lovely bouquet with a smile. The bouquet would no doubt swallow (your name), but he couldn’t help the excitement that seeped into his love stricken heart.

“Hey, I put something together for you.” Callum hid the bouquet behind his back as he smiled warmly at (your name). The young woman perked up once she spotted the bouquet. A bashful smile now on her face when Callum gently placed the red bouquet in her hands.

“You made me a bouquet?” (Your name) admired each flower in awe. It appeared Callum put a lot of thought and care into each piece of this arrangement. “It’s so beautiful… the red kind of reminds me of your hair.”

Callum chuckled before he bit his lip. It seemed (your name) didn’t understand the romantic language of flowers… but that was okay! He was willing to outright admit his interest in her!

“Well, these are much more than flowers…” Callum towered over (your name) as he pointed to each flower. “Red chrysanthemums for passion and love, wax flowers for a wish of lasting success, red hypericum berries, thistle, and eucalyptus for protection.”

(Your name) blushed when Callum grabbed her hands, the bouquet the only item in the way of the two of them from hugging.

“In other words, I’m confessing to you.” Callum whispered softly, his green eyes filled with adoration. “So what do you say? Would you be mine, m’eudail?”

[rayshippouuchiha]

Fic rec!

a rose by any other name (would taste just as bitter)

kodakekid

Summary:

"What is this?" The tremor in his voice is well-hidden, but there. Iemitsu is staring at his son like he doesn't know who it is, sitting across from them. It was funny. It was as if he thought he had any business to know who Tsuna was in the first place. "What are you?"

Tsunayoshi smiles, saccharine sweet and dripping oil slick ink from serrated teeth. "I am what you made me."

!!!!

[lauronk]

I was watching a movie (that one with natalie portman) and I got an Idea. A ficlet where joel is a professional hitman (or a retired one) and ellie is his daughter. She loves him, and he is devoted for her. He is wrapped around her little finger and he knows that.

What he doesn't tell her tho? he actually killed her father for his client. He only realized there was a baby in the house when it was too late. The truth eats him alive everyday, but he will never tell her. Never.

hi anon! thank you for this prompt, it fully latched into my brain and derailed the other stuff i had planned on working on lmao i hope you enjoy!

(this time baby) i’ll be bulletproof

length: ~2.6k words

tags: pov joel; joel & ellie; modern au; death/murder; brief mentions of blood; tess is alive; kidnapping; ellie’s whole life is a lie she just doesn’t know it; joel’s a hitman so what do you expect; joel’s also a great dad, what did you expect; no beta we die like david

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Gentle finger squeeze on the trigger. Exhale.

The target drops before he even realizes he’s been shot, a small pool of blood gathering on the carpet underneath his head. The man had been nice enough - not that he’d realized it - to leave his window open, so there wasn’t even the shattering of glass to alert anyone. He’d be found in an hour or so, when his wife returned home from her nail appointment, and by then, Joel would be long gone.

-

Sometimes he regretted the path he’d wound up on, the way his life had diverged from everything it should have been. Joel could look back and pinpoint exactly where the fork had occurred - his daughter, a victim of the wrong place at the wrong time, one man so bent on vengeance he didn’t care who he’d hurt in the process.

He had been the first one Joel had ever killed. Twenty years later, and he hadn’t stopped.

Only difference was, now he got paid for it, and handsomely at that.

-

The television is still on when Joel opens the front door, and he pauses, hand on the knob. It’s entirely too late for anyone else to still be awake, and he turns his head towards the dark hallway that branches off the living room towards the back of the house.

He makes sure he makes a fair amount of noise in the process of taking off his shoes and hanging up his keys. His pistol he secures in the safe over the fireplace, making sure it’s locked again before he slides the wall panel back in place. The TV he shuts off, and he pours a glass of water before finally making his way down the hall to the second door on the left.

“Ellie?” Joel knocks gently before pressing a hand against the door and nudging it open.

She gives an exaggerated deep breath, and Joel chuckles, stepping all the way into her room. He can make out the shape of her under her covers, curled on her side, a faint hint of moonlight trickling through the window.

The glass of water he deposits on her nightstand - he knows she’ll want it later - and lowers himself carefully to sit on her mattress near her hip. Her breathing picks up and then slows again, like she thinks he hasn’t already caught on.

“C’mon, baby,” Joel shakes her shoulder gently, his voice teasing. “I know you ain’t sleepin’.”

Ellie rolls over, blinking at him owlishly. She even brings a hand up to rub her eyes, widening them comically like she’s surprised to see him. “Dad?”

“TV didn’t shut off all the way,” Joel tells her helpfully, snorting when her hand immediately falls from her face and her head flops back dramatically on her pillow.

“Fuck.”

He tucks the comforter around her a little more tightly, brushing a stray piece of hair back from her forehead. “Yeah.” Her hand comes up and wraps around his wrist, squeezing gently. “You’re pretty busted, kiddo.”

Ellie shakes the hand holding his, waggling his arm around. “Why do I even still have a bedtime? I’m fourteen. Dina and Jesse don’t have bedtimes.”

He shakes his arm right back, eliciting a small giggle from her. “Dina and Jesse ain’t been caught sneakin’ out recently, have they? Maybe that’s got somethin’ to do with it, hmm?”

Ellie huffs, but she doesn’t argue. She had been busted after all, caught down at the neighborhood pool with some other kids by Marlene, the HOA president, and brought to his door dripping wet at one a.m. Bedtime and curfew had been reinstated after that, and Ellie had three more months of probation from him before it would be lifted.

It didn’t feel good to do - he’d struggled with punishing Sarah at all too - but it let him give free rein to some of his paranoia, gave him an excuse to keep her locked in the house a little more. It wouldn’t last forever - nor should it, Joel knew well and good that Ellie needed to go out and live her own life - but while she was still young enough, he’d shield her from everything he could.

Sarah hadn’t made it to fifteen - Joel was determined to see that Ellie did.

“Get some sleep, baby girl,” he tells her softly, brushing his fingers back and forth across her forehead in the way he knows will soothe her to sleep best. It’s worked since she was a baby, and sure enough her eyes are already drifting closed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Waffles?” Ellie mumbles, rolling on her side and burying her face into her pillow.

Joel smiles down at her, feeling that same tug behind his heart that he has every time since he first held her. “Yeah, baby, we’ll do waffles.”

This time, her breathing deepens out naturally, mouth falling slack, and Joel bends forward to press a kiss to her temple. “Dream somethin’ good,” he whispers, same as he does every night. He ain’t superstitious - can’t afford to be, in his line of work - but he’s always been afraid that the nights he hasn’t been around to tell her, she’ll have nightmares.

Joel shuts the door behind him, padding back through the living room to double check the locks on the doors and windows and set the alarm. When he’s sure they’re as secure as can be, he makes his way back down to his room. He can’t fight the urge to open Ellie’s door one more time and peek in on her; she hasn’t moved, not that he expected her to.

His own room is dark, blackout curtains preventing even a hint of moonlight coming in. He’d wanted to put the same curtains in Ellie’s room for safety, but she’d put her foot down - I need to see the fucking sun, Dad - and Joel had relented. Her room faced the backyard, and they had no neighbors on that side, just a tall fence with motion sensors spaced carefully along it.

Joel doesn’t bother with a lamp, instead making his way straight through to his bathroom and flicking on the light there. As always, he avoids the sight of his reflection, instead turning his back on the mirror and flipping the handle on the shower. He cranks it as hot as he’ll be able to stand and tugs off his clothes, tossing them into a small pile on the floor. He’ll have to do laundry in the morning, get the first load going before Ellie’s awake.

The bathroom is already filling with steam by the time Joel steps under the spray, the water immediately stinging his skin like a thousand small needles. It immediately starts to soothe the aches in his body though, and Joel turns slowly until it’s beating between his shoulder blades.

He’s getting too old for this. Fifty-six, with nearly twenty years of it under his belt. He’s still deadly, sure, one of the best to ever do it as Tess so frequently tells him.

But his recovery times are slower, his reflexes dulling. His already damaged hearing in his right ear is only getting worse.

He’s not far from being a liability - he knows what they do to liabilities.

And he’s got Ellie to think of.

Joel rotates again, sticks his head under the water and lets it sluice down over his face.

He’ll bring it up with Tess soon, Joel thinks. He doesn’t know what the protocol is here - few in his line of work live long enough for it to be a consideration - but they’ll work something out. Better for him to get out now, after a damn near perfect record, while he’s still got enough health and energy to spend with his daughter.

Better that than him getting old and slow, getting sloppy and getting caught.

He shuts the water off and tugs the towel around his waist. The rest of his evening routine he does by rote - dressing, brushing his teeth, turning down his bed - and by the time his head hits the pillow, Joel’s able to slip straight into sleep.

-

He doesn’t usually dream when he sleeps - a side effect, he’d guess, of the way he lives his life. Maybe there’d been nightmares at first, flashes of the lives he’d taken, faint remembrances. But those had stopped with enough time and blood, and his sleep became peaceful again.

Not this night, though.

-

The hallways stretching before him is dark and long, shadows stretching out like fingers, and Joel walks silently as close to the wall as he dares. The floor is less likely to squeak there, but too close to the wall and he’ll brush against a frame or hanging, send it crashing to the ground. Easiest way to get caught, if you’re stupid.

And Joel Miller ain’t stupid.

The first two rooms - a study and a guest room - are clear. Tonight’s unfortunate soul is a widower, a man whose increasingly large debts to Joel’s employer were beyond the point of repayment. Nothing left to do but put the man out of his misery, leave the murky back-end of liquidating the man’s assets to the techies. His only job was making it look natural.

The third room is the master, a four poster bed in the middle, the target in question asleep under the covers.

It’s almost absurdly easy, and Joel leaves the body behind with a mental note to ask Tess for something more challenging next time. He doesn’t know what it says about him that this murder felt boring, but he doesn’t bother dwelling on it.

This is who he is now.

Joel does a final check, sweeping the hall with a flashlight to make sure he left no trace. He’s just clicked the light off when he hears it - a muffled sound of some sort, coming from the only door he hasn’t checked.

Joel advances, feet light, and draws his pistol as he approaches the door, turn the knob slowly with a gloved hand. A faint beam of light meets his eyes, and Joel blinks, inhaling slowly to keep his heart rate low as his eyes adjust.

The sound echoes again, and Joel pushes the door open carefully, pausing when the hinges emit the faintest squeak. Nothing stirs inside, no other sound follows.

Might be a dog or cat, Joel reasons with himself. Wouldn’t be the first time.

After another moment of stillness, he nudges the door open further, eyes scanning back and forth over the room. Taking in the bookshelf, the night light, the tall dresser, the —

The crib against the wall.

Joel’s hand falls limp next to his side, pistol dangling from numb fingertips.

He doesn’t do parents. He’s made that clear to Tess and her bosses a thousand times over. He’ll kill just about anyone, but not if they’ve got kids, and especially not if those kids still live at home. Tess knows - she knows - that’s a hard line for him. So either he was lied to when given the file, or their intel had been bad and they hadn’t known.

But there is - a chubby hand lifts from the crib - there is a baby in the crib. A small, now orphaned child.

Joel orphaned them.

He tucks the pistol into the back of his jeans and takes a careful step closer. And then another, and another, until he’s right next to the crib, hands gripping the railing as he peers down.

Bright brown eyes are staring back up at him, chubby cheeks framing an open mouth. The blanket covering most of her body reads Ellie.

“Ellie,” Joel repeats softly. “‘s that your name?”

A chubby fist waves up at him as if in response.

He should leave. He needs to leave. The job’s done, and the longer he stays here the longer he risks getting caught or leaving behind a trail.

But Ellie is staring up at him from her crib, rosebud mouth opening and closing and little babbles escaping.

He should leave.

But instead Joel bends down, hands carefully scooping underneath her back until she’s cradled against his chest. She rests there easily, something like a contented sigh - if he thought babies could make such a noise - escaping her. The warmth of her against him has something in his chest fracturing, splintering, breaking wide open. All the pieces of him seem to realign, and without thought Joel bends down to pick up her blanket. There’s a nearly full diaper bag by the door, and Joel snags that too.

Ellie doesn’t stir against him as they exit the house through the back and Joel winds them through the trees lining the back of the property. He doesn’t have a car seat, he realizes. He’ll need to get one of those - for the time being Joel lowers himself to sit in the backseat of the car with Ellie still held against him.

He’ll call Tess, Joel decides, back of his finger stroking gently over Ellie’s cheek. She can come get him, get someone else to get his car out of here. She’ll be mad, probably more than a little freaked out, but it ain’t for her to worry about.

Ellie’s his.

She stretches a bit, a small fist making contact with his neck. Immediately Joel starts to rub her back, low voice murmuring in her ear.

“It’s okay, baby girl. I got you.”

-

Joel blinks awake, the familiar sight of his ceiling coming in to focus above him. He doesn’t dream about the night he found Ellie very often, but every time he does it’s as clear as if it had just happened.

A glance at the clock on his nightstand shows it’s nearing on eight, which means Ellie’ll probably be up soon.

He totes his laundry basket down the hall to the laundry room, hitting the power button on the coffee maker when he passes. He’ll get the laundry going, his coffee made, the waffle batter started. And then they can have breakfast together, figure out how they want to spend their Wednesday. It’s summer, so Ellie’s out of school, and he’s off for the day.

Joel strolls over to the window facing the backyard as he sips his coffee, waffle batter made and sitting in the fridge. He’d moved around a lot before Ellie - hazard of the job - but he’d wanted her to have stability, safety. It made it trickier, meant he could take fewer jobs, but he’d stashed up enough money to make that less of a concern.

Tess had predictably lost her shit when she’d found Joel in the back of his car, Ellie snoozing against Joel, but within a matter of hours he’d had a crib and enough supplies to last two weeks. Within three days he’d had a birth certificate listing a dead woman as Ellie’s mother and Joel as her father. Any trace of her in the target’s house had been swiftly and carefully eradicated.

And Ellie had never known about any of it. If Joel had his way, she never would.

A yawn from behind him has Joel turning around, smile spreading across his cheeks at the sight of Ellie shuffling across the living room towards him in her pajamas, hair tousled and eyes half-open. She all but collapses against him, head thunking against his chest as she yawns again.

“Waffles?”

Joel chuckles, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “C’mon, sleepyhead, let’s get you some waffles.”

There was nothing more important to Joel than his daughter. And nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her from learning the truth.

[momodita]

snapshots. [—hibari kyoya]

TAGS / WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, a/o/b au,       predator/prey elements, hibari being hibari,       tyl setting, marriage run WC: 1,000 NOTE: hold on i gotta tell the me from 10+ yrs ago       that i still have a thing for this guy...

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Hibari exhibits all the strength and ferocity of a real predator.

He knows only one truth: surrender. You’ve seen it countless times in different forms from his enemies: humiliated defeat; merciless death; bitter prostration. But never could you have imagined that his appetite for glory would extend to you.

Stinging air brushes the fine hairs on your nape when he swings at you—broad-knuckled hands weapon-free to align with the rules, but no less deadly. Forced to overcome your shock as he lunges, scent thick and roiling; you’ve caught whiffs during the run before your encounter, carried by the breeze. He’d caught you off guard—approaching fast during your leisurely stroll.

“Submit.”

Even the vibrations in his voice demand you forfeit. The rough baritone raising your hackles—instinct to fight overriding cordiality.

(In your mind, Hibari hadn’t even been in the realm of potential runners. But he’d come—arriving later than everyone else, standing far from the clumps of mingling alphas. And you briefly, only briefly, wondered if he planned to take it seriously.)

From the gleam in his eyes—the memory of his stare on your neck—you have no doubt he’d been aiming for this outcome all along. The bell has been ringing at steady intervals for the past ten minutes: formed pairs evacuating the designated area to leave the remaining participants in peace. It’s difficult to tell how many remain—where they might be wandering.

“Get real, Hibari.”

You expect him to snarl—your clash stoking the prideful venom that all alphas with a similar penchant for violence boast no shortage of. You expect anger: incredulity and the arrogance he carried with him into this mating run.

Instead, he smiles, and you realize with cold blood draining from your face that he doesn’t pursue surrender—but surrender comes to him.

No one else had looked in your direction for more than friendly acknowledgement. There’s a scrap of hopeful disbelief that he’s simply ignorant of the implications and has merely rushed in blind. That he chose to engage you for the familiarity of having fought side-by-side. After all, you could hardly fathom an alpha like him willingly pursuing a beta.

The problem with Hibari is he does not chase. He hunts.

And it is impulsive—recklessness that would put you towards an early grave had he been an enemy—to abandon all momentum and test your hand against the Vongola’s most bloodthirsty Guardian.

You’ve sparred against him countless times before. The results were always as expected.

It’s laughable, almost, how quickly you realize your strength is no match for him.

You go down. And Hibari—like any man thirsty for conquest—is all too eager to partake in the sweet reward of his victory. The heel of his palm pressing on your sternum, right beside the tight rabbiting of your heart. Fingers splaying—a touch too inappropriate in its placement for the mannerly guidelines of this tradition.

Thrashing is easy. Struggling is easy. But Hibari is an immovable force above you, subduing his prey with practiced hands, holding you down against the mossy earth. His head ducks, aiming for the crook of your throat—and you suck in a breath, the impulse to fight betraying you as you freeze beneath him.

But he doesn’t bite.

Nothing will take if he does; you’ve no scent glands, no area primed for a claiming mark to officially tie the two of you together. You don’t even know how he found you amidst the plethora of other candidates. The only realistic outcome is the thorough verbal scolding you’d get from Gokudera.

Hibari leans close, so close the heat of his face melts into your own. He takes a breath—smelling you, you realize with no small amount of mortification—and speaks.

“Submit,” he commands once more. You almost laugh.

“Do you even know the purpose of this run?” His hair tickles, that choppy dark fringe dipping against your skin.

“What a foolish question,” he muses. “A hunt is a hunt.”

You suppress a groan. “Right. Okay. Well, this probably seems like a—competition of sorts, but that’s not what this is,” you explain, pulse showing no signs of slowing. “This is a marriage run, not a hunt. There’s no way to—you know. Win.”

“A claim,” he says, silencing your next thought. “When a claim is made, there is a clear winner, isn’t there?”

You nearly stop breathing. Hibari withdraws to stare at you.

(Tsuna’s earlier apprehension makes perfect sense. It occurs to you, then, that you were the one that hadn’t been taking it seriously from the beginning.)

“A claim here,” he continues—pleased; you’ve known him long enough to hear the subtle tang in his voice—reaching up to brush over your neck, “usually denotes a victor.”

“I am not a prize.” Your limbs go tense, preparing to fight. Hibari catches your wrist easily, his palm calloused and hot.

“You misunderstand,” he says, “this is not a matter of prizes. It’s one of choosing.” His thumb presses lightly into your wrist, where a scent gland would lay. Your pulse is lively under his hands and fingers.

This time, you do laugh, disbelieving. “You would choose this?”

“There is no one else.”

You’re tempted to laugh again. But his face does not betray a hint of sarcasm.

“There will be others,” you insist. “If not by your choice, then the famiglia’s.” His eyes narrow.

“They are irrelevant.”

Your mouth opens to argue. Hibari closes the distance again; his breath hits the pulse point in your throat. He does it so confidently you think—with a squeezing pressure in your chest—that he’s going to bite you for real this time.

For an insane, thoughtless moment, you almost tilt your head to let him.

Your eyes flutter shut, imagining it—almost craving it—and then, when they open, your gazes lock, and—with the prickling rush of adrenaline—you realize there’s nowhere else you could’ve fallen but into his clutches all along.