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coryosbaby · 11 months

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1. 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓢𝓮𝔁

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: Inviting your incredibly nice and incredibly married family friend to your birthday party was not meant to be a way of seduction— or was it?

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 #2: You clean your neighbor and family friend Anakin’s house, and he comes to your birthday party with a special gift.

𝓒𝔀: bimbo! Reader, infidelity, age gap (reader is twenty, Anakin is in his mid to late thirties)— nsfw . oral (m & f recieving), vaginal fingering, smell kink, daddy kink, sub! Reader, dom! Anakin

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: This is part 1 of the Insatiable series ! (Click link for series masterlist)

You’ve never really liked Padme.

And honestly, it’s clear that she doesn’t like you that much either. You don’t know why— you’ve always been nothing but fake nice to her.

At least you have a reason to hate her— that reason being her absolute sex symbol of a husband. Or, aka, a man that’s been hanging around your family for as long as you can remember.

Your hate for Padme originally spawned from the fact that she married Anakin. But as the years have went on, your hate for her has reigned even more clearer than before. She lies, steals Anakin’s money, and cheats— a lot. You know about the last part because you’ve seen random men spew in and out of the house when Anakin is working to make money and pay for the things that she wants. And it enrages you— you don’t understand how she could treat someone as perfect, handsome, and kind as Anakin so terribly.

If he was yours, you would never let him go.

—

You decide to invite Anakin’s to your birthday party.

Of course, he’s always went to them— but reminding him wouldn’t hurt, right? So, on a sunny summer day, you decide to walk across the street to his house. A box of cookies in your hand and in your favorite short skirt due to the scorching hot weather, you knock and wait for him. When he answers, he’s in nothing but a t shirt and boxers. The sight of his muscled thighs and his strong arms makes you a little weak in the knees, but you try to shove your sinful thoughts down. It seems that Padme is gone— thank god. If she knew you were here, she’d have your head.

“Hi, Ani!” You greet sweetly. Although run down and exhausted, Anakin still gives you a smile back. You always lighten the man’s mood.

“Hi, sweetheart.” he replies back.

“Nice day, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is,” his eyes had avert down to the clear box in your hands, the lid pink and adorned with hello kitty stickers. “Are those for me?”

“Mhm! ” you say excitedly. “I just made them! I knew you’d want some.”

Of course you did. You always give your neighbors sweet treats— Anakin the most often, because he’s your favorite. And because you know he loves the things you bake.

Anakin’s steps towards you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Always know when I need something sweet, don’t you, honey?”

He looks at you with true affection, though you can sense something teasing underneath that pleased lilt. You can feel heat creeping up your neck as he grabs the box from you.

“Thank you.” He says, after a moment. “Have a nice day.”

He goes to shut the door. You shuffle nervously, and then loudly, you blurt out, “Wait! You’re coming to my birthday party this weekend, right?”

Anakin’s brows furrow as he opens the door back up, but he seems amused by your question.

“Do you want me to?”

“I-I mean—“ you stutter, rolling forward on the balls of your feet. “Of course I do.”

“Hmm…” he pretends to think for a moment, a small smile grazing his lips. “And what do I get in return? I’d have to take a day off, if it’s on a Friday…”

Shit. It is on a Friday. You bite your lip, doe eyes looking around as you come up with a plan.

“I’ll.. clean your house?”

It’s a dumb suggestion, one that makes Anakin crane his neck to look back at his slightly cluttered home. He tries to act serious as he looks back at you and crosses his arms.

“What, do you think my house is… dirty, or something?”

You flush, immediately shaking your head.

“No! No, Ani, that’s not what I meant. I- I just… I know you work a lot, so I assume that it’d take a lot of strain off of you. God, I’m sorry-“

“I’m fucking with you,” he interrupts. A smirk glazes his lips. “I know what you meant.” His eyes sweep across your body, and you feel a little dizzy. After a moment, he relaxes and his face splits into a grin.

“Of course I’ll come to your birthday party, kid. Y’know I always do.”

“Okay!” You smile sheepishly, but nervously bite your lip as you speak again. “Uhm.. you don’t have to get me anything. Not at all.”

“I’m gonna get you something.” He states bluntly.

“Okay! That’s— that’s fine.” Your eyes avert from his piercing gaze, something that you should be used to after all these years but aren’t. “I’ll still clean your house, though. I can do it right now, if you want!” You pause, trying to think of how to word the next sentence.

“I… I wanna do something nice for you, Ani.”

There it is again. That look in Anakin’s eyes, hungry, as he steps closer to you once again.

“Well…” he murmurs. ““…Aren’t you just a sweet little girl?”

He brings his fingers up to tank top, toying with the thin material.

You’re slick with wetness, and suddenly feel very shy. Your eyes look down at the wooden porch below you as his fingers brush up on your collarbone. You’re too flustered to really speak again.

Anakin, done with his teasing (for now), steps back and gestures towards the inside of his home.

“Go on,” he says. “Cleaner’s in the cabinet below the sink. You know how I like things to be organized.”

—

Getting the yellow sponge handed to you wet and sudsy, you begin to work on his kitchen counters first. It’s not like they’re gross, per say— his house is more cluttered than nasty. As you intensely work on getting the countertop nice and clean, you can feel Anakin’s gaze pierce through your skin. He had decided to sit at the bar of the kitchen a few moments ago, after finishing half of the container of fresh chocolate chip cookies. Now clad in a pair of jeans and a white wifebeater, he lights a cigarette in his hand. Finally finishing up the counters, you decide to work on the dishes.

Anakin moves to the other side of the bar. He always keeps a radio in this spot, and with idle hands he turns the knob to up the volume a bit. You smile when you hear a Brittany Spears song blaring through the speakers. It’s not Anakin’s taste, but he keeps it on anyways. He knows Brittany is one of your favorite artists.

“So,” he starts, beginning to strike up a conversation. “Twenty one, huh?”

You nod, as you pick up the dish sponge in front of the sink.

“Yeah. Legal drinking age— thank god.” You chuckle, remembering all the times that Anakin had brought you alcohol when you wanted some but couldn’t buy it.

“You’re growing up so fast,” he inquires. You hear rustling behind you— he must be moving around the kitchen. “Not a little girl anymore… ‘s really starting to freak me out.”

“I guess so,” you laugh.

“Time flies.”

It’s quiet after that, for a moment. But something creeps up your neck, like Anakin’s eyes are burning through the back of your skull.

You can feel his presence moving closer to you.

Closer… closer.

And with wide eyes, you feel his breath on the back of your neck.

When did he get so close?

Anakin can’t help but stare at your behind as he watches you— your body is absolute stunning, your thighs soft and absolutely kissable. He loves watching the gap in between your legs as you shift from foot to foot. Loves watching and imagining what your pussy must look like. Probably so wet, so tight underneath that skimpy little outfit. His cock aches at the thought.

He’s feeling bold, now. He doesn’t know why — maybe because he saw his wife leave in a random car earlier that morning, or maybe because he saw the explicit pictures on her phone sent to another man the night before that had caused him to get extremely wasted. But either way, his fingertips reach up and graze your hip.

You exhale sharply, his touch setting off fireworks on your skin.

“It’s different now, isn’t it?” You say, and the insinuation in the question is obvious.

Anakin’s fingertips continue to brush your hips, and then slowly— he wraps his arms around you. Hugging you from behind, pressing his face into your neck and his obvious hard on against your ass.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. White hot heat licks up your spine at his gruff voice. “…very different.”

You know it’s fucked. You know it’s wrong. You know he’s fifteen years your senior, you know that he’s married, and you know that he’s been a family friend for years.

But something is tempting you to turn around.

Call it instinct, but your body adjusts to come face to face with the older man. He was closer than you thought he would be. His lips are almost grazing yours. Anakin’s got a look on his face that can only be described as holding back. His eyes shine with desperation and lust.

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s a sentence that seems to be more of a beg than a question. You can’t help but nod. And slow, like an awaiting storm, his lips are on yours— and that slowness soon gives way to electric sparks and teeth and tongue. His arms wrap around your waist, covering your body with his much wider one. He tastes like cigarettes and booze.

Your body is shoved against the sink. Anakin’s tongue rubs against the roof of your delicious, wet mouth. He can’t get enough. He kisses you and kisses you until lips feel bruised.

You savor this feeling, of him using your mouth as his own personal meal. And you fucking love it. No amount of guilt in your body can outweigh the neediness you have for him. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you part your legs so he can rest his hips against you. His jeans catch on your skirt— the flimsy material lifts up past your thighs. He follows the expanse of your legs and takes sight of your pink lacy underwear. Its cute, Anakin thinks, and his thumbs are about to pull them down and ravage you.

But you’re interrupted. Because as quick as lightening, Anakin’s phone is blaring out it’s loud call ringtone.

Jumping back, you and him are both surprised. He huffs, wiping at his kiss bitten lips as he makes way to pick up his phone.

The caller id reads “Padme”.

And fuck, you want to kill yourself right now. Of course, it has to be her of all people.

You hate her.

Anakin is quick to answer, and you can’t hear anything but a distraught voice on the other line.

“Padme? What is it?” His voice is laced with concern, but he lets out a breath when she yells something else. He sighs, his eyes glancing at your for a quick second as he rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Fuck. Okay, okay! I’ll come get you, just— stay there, alright?”

He hangs up with a groan, and turns to you.

“It’s just— Padme. Being Padme. She crashed the car… again. She’s fine, though.”

Unfortunately. You want to say. But you bite your tongue.

And just like that, the tension between you and Anakin goes back into hiding once again.

—

Friday comes quicker than you expect.

Your father and mother wake you up with your favorite breakfast, and you pick out your birthday outfit. It’s a pink dress with puffy sleeves, and you’ve been wanting to wear it for this occasion for months. Your birthday cake is your favorite flavor and decorated— of course— with hello kitty plastered on the frosting.

Your mother gushes at your dress, deciding to take many, many, many pictures of you. But you don’t complain— you’re grateful of all the decorations that she’s put up for you. They suit your taste.

You would’ve invited your friends but you figured this would be a family only type gathering. You may have a second party reserved just for them later.

It’s not long before your relatives arrives. Five o’clock on the dot, your cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents have all showed up. You open a few presents, have a good time, have some shots for the first time in front of your family. It’s fun.

But he still hasn’t showed up.

Looking at the clock— half past six now— you can’t help but be disappointed and upset. Anikan promised he would be here!

Your gut starts to churn with different anxieties. What if it was because of that moment back in his kitchen? What if he never wants to speak to you again?

But then, there he is. You hear the familiar roar of his black convertible outside— and your heart instantly soars.

He comes in a bit disheveled, as if he had rushed to get here, with a band tee and black jeans on. The way he still dresses like a young and corrupted boy amuses you— and also turns you on just a little bit.

He smiles when he sees you, and of course you smile right back. You’re so thankful he didn’t make Padma tag along with him— that would completely ruin this entire day.

“Hey, kid,” he says, as he pulls you in for a hug. His fingers trail down past your lower back and graze your ass, though know seems to notice.

“Hey, ani.”

“Happy birthday.” He congratulates you.

You thank him, and his eyes linger on yours for a bit too long as he speaks.

“You look nice.”

The butterflies tingle in your tummy again.

“So do you.”

And after that, it’s not long before everyone else recognizes his arrival and your dad is sweeping by and pulling him into one of his conversations.

As the night goes on, more of your family members slowly begin to leave. You prefer it this way; your judgy aunt Hilda was becoming way too much for you to bear right now. You’re sitting on the living room couch with your mom when she asks you to go and get her bag from the kitchen.

And when you go into the room, Anakin is there. And not only that, but he’s alone. He’s leaned up against your refrigerator drinking a beer.

Your eyes lock with his, and he follows the outline of your curves as you pick up your mom’s bag.

“Everyone leaving?”

His voice rings out through the room, piercing the awkward silence. You shrug, becoming intensely concentrated on the granite countertops all of a sudden.

“It’s late.” You reply. And then, in a smaller voice, “You were late.”

He sighs, and you look back to see him running his hands through his dark locks of hair. He looks frustrated.

“I know, honey. Im sorry. I had work, you know that. And… Padma’s been giving me a rough time.”

“When isn’t she?”

It isn’t meant to come off as snarky as it does, but your comment has Anakin huffing out a breath of air.

“Don’t give me attitude, okay? Im here, aren’t I?” He moves beside you, a look of guilt flashing across his face. You don’t say anything— you simply look at him with those eyes. Those pretty, doe like eyes that Anakin can’t bring himself to stop looking into. His eyes trail down to your lips.

“We should talk,” He says. “About..last weekend.”

You really don’t want to. That’s all you can gather right now. You half heartedly take your mom’s bag into your grasp and gesture towards it.

“I have to go give this to my mom,” you mutter. “See you around, Anakin.”

—

The night is over, but Anakin still hasn’t left. You wouldn’t expect him too, though. He stays over late once or twice a week sometimes to chat with your father. You’ve showered, gotten rid of the pesky hairdo that had taken you hours to do and was so frustrating the whole night but still was worth it anyway, and painted your toes a fresh, hot pink. You’re extremely happy to have your nightgown on, now. That dress was very tight.

Your bedroom door is open, but you don’t mind it. You can hear the sound of a football game from downstairs as you read one of your favorite magazines. Too busy wondering which breaking bad character you are through a printed out quiz in the booklet, you don’t even realize Anakin is at your door until he knocks.

It makes you jump, and when you whirl around to see who it is your bones almost jump out of your skin.

“You scared the shit out of me!” You exclaim. You slam the magazine down onto your vanity, and Anakin chuckles.

“Sorry.”

His footsteps approach you, but not before they’re moving so he can close your door shut. You become drastically nervous now that he’s alone with you. He must’ve made up some excuse about having to go to the bathroom so he could sneak up here.

“What are you doing in here, Ani?” You question feebly. He shrugs, taking a seat on your silky pink bed.

“What? Do I have to have an excuse to see the birthday girl?”

You shyly turn back to face your Vanity mirror. You begin to concentrate on brushing your hair. In the reflection you can see that Anakin is watching you.

“We both know that’s not why.” You reply quietly.

“I guess you’re right,” Anakin agrees. “Maybe it’s because I want us to continue where we left off. ”

Face flushing, you baffle yourself by throwing out an unintentionally disgusting line.

“So you wanna do me in my bedroom while my dad is downstairs? Is that it?”

Anakin smirks, amused, leaning back and seeming cocky. He doesn’t say anything, but you know that the answer is yes.

You turn around, watching this older man manspreading on your bed. Against your better judgement you decide to get out of the chair and sit beside him.

He smiles fondly at the closeness. His fist closes around something in his pocket.

“I got you something.” He says. “Your present. Open your hand.”

It’s a scary request, because Anikan has played tricks on you before by telling you this. Sticking a whole snake in your hand one time and making you cry for hours on end after is proof of how much of an asshole he can be sometimes. But he seems to be genuine, and this is your birthday present, so you hold out your hand for him to take.

He pulls out a box. Anyone could recognize it as one that has jewelry inside the packaging. And you were right. Because when you open it, you’re blessed to see a beautiful set of diamond earrings encrusted with your initials.

You gasp, picking them up and admiring them with excitement.

“Thank you so much, Ani!”

Your gushing over the present makes Anakin’s chest swell, and he’s surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug.

It’s been a while since Anakin has been hugged like this. Padme hasn’t touched him in months, or shown him any type of affection. Surprised but pleased, he’s quick to return it, his big arms wrapping around your waist and burying his face in your neck. The smell of your natural scent and strawberry perfume fills his nostrils. He pulls away after a moment. You see the wedding band on his finger, and it brings reality back to you.

“Where’s Padme?” You ask slowly, questionably, but still genuinely curious.

He doesn’t seemed angry by the question, but Anakin’s mouth forms into a thin line.

“Out.” he states. “Probably fucking some random guy she met on tinder.”

“She doesn’t deserve you,” You say, and frown, hand reaching out to touch his bicep. “You’re so nice, and she’s so mean to you. I hate her.”

“Don’t say that. You’re too nice to hate anybody.”

“But it’s true!” You exclaim. “I hate her.” And then, quietly. “She has you and I don’t… ‘S not fair.”

Anakin doesn’t like when you get sad, and he especially doesn’t like when you remind him of that fact.

“I’m not hers, y/n.” He replies, and it’s the truth. His feet move closer to your angry form. “I never have been.”

“Then why are you still with her? Why aren’t you with me?”

“How do you expect me to be with you, y/n? What do you think everyone would say?”

It’s actually a good point, but you dont want to think about that right now.

His arms wrap around your waist, and his face finds the crook of his neck as he breathes you in. You sigh, looking up to the ceiling, your pink curtains, anything but him.

“I want you,” he whispers to you. You try so hard not to look at him. “I want you so bad, angel.”

“You don’t know what you want, Anakin.”

“Fifteen years older than you and I don’t know what I want?” He scoffs, his lips forming into a thin line. “I know what I want.”

His voice takes a much darker turn then, something twinged with arousal and feral possession. “I want to bend you over your vanity and pound my cock into you until I can’t see straight. I want to kiss you, hold you… I’ve wanted it since you were nineteen years old. Cmon, sweets. Why don’t you let me in?”

Let me in. You shiver, and your clothes become unbearably uncomfortable on your body.

“I don’t know, Ani..”

“It’s okay, baby.” He coos, comforting. “Why don’t you let uncle Ani give you the second part of your birthday present, huh? Cmon, let me make you feel good.”

Its once again, truly fucked.

But with the way he’s holding you now, with the words spilling from his lips in that tone.. god, your knees are buckling. You sigh, and mindlessly you begin to run your hands down his body.

“I don’t want you to ever mention Padme to me” you reason with him, as your hands circle his waist. “Ever. Only ever talk about me.”

“I won’t mention her. She’s dead to me.”

You contemplate more deals to make, and then pout. “And I want to be paid for all that cleaning I did last week!”

“Done.”

It’s insane how quickly he agrees to what you want. But alas, he does.

And when his lips press against yours for a second time, you can’t resist falling into him and finally giving in.

To Anakin, you taste like your chapstick— he doesn’t know what flavor it is, but he wants to figure it out soon so he can buy it for himself and always have that familiar sweetness on his mouth. His arms wrap around your waist and he’s desperate, practically consuming you with a neediness he has never felt for anyone else. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip and you feel his tongue enter the warm canal of your mouth. Mewling and pulling yourself away, you press your half naked body against him and begin to trail kisses down his neck.

“Wanna suck you…” you whine. “but—your house— not here..”

Your hands grope his thighs, then one of them moves up and takes hold of his awaiting bulge. He’s big, and you can tell by how fat he feels in your palm already. He lets out a moan, pressing himself further into you and breathing against your cheek, “Yes, here.”

And so be it. You know once Anakin decides something, it’s going to get done. If he wants it, you’ll give it to him. You drop to your knees in an instant, previous request forgotten, pawing at the confines of his jeans and unbuckling his belt. He watches you through hooded eyelids, watches the way your mouth practically drools as you pop the button on his fly and unzip him. His briefs are almost cute. They have little looney toons characters on them. Scoffing and letting out a giggle at the sight of these on a thirty six year old man, who probably knew he was gonna get laid, you look up at him.

“Nice underwear.”

“Shut up,” he groans, gripping your hair with his big hands. “Just suck my cock, baby. C’mon, please?”

Slick forms and leaks down your thighs at his words. Jokes forgotten, you pull the silly material down and his aching cock springs free. Slapping against his stomach, all big and thick with a patch of brown hair at the base, you can see a drop of precum beading on the tip. Your thumb brushes over the spot and smears the creamy liquid around the head of his cock. He exhales sharply, his grip on your hair tightening.

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes shutting closed at the feeling of your hands.

“Ani,” you breathe. Your tongue licks a stripe up his cock, licking up the dribbles of fluid you had just smeared. You lick your lips with need. “You taste so good.”

“Yeah?” He bucks his hips against your face, watching how you greedily slurp his cock into your mouth. “Look at you, baby. Such a needy girl.”

You hum around him, making sure to breathe so the man doesn’t strangle you with his fat cock. The smell of his arousal invades your senses, and your head gets fuzzy. You down him all the way to his base— pressing your nose against the hair there, you almost pass out from how good it all is. He smiles, watching how easily you submit to him. He begins to thrust shallowly into your mouth.

“So fuckin’ good, angel. ” He grunts. “Take it this isn’t the first cock you’ve sucked? Shit— too good at it to not have been dicked down or throat fucked at least twice.”

You moan around him, knowing it’s true. But all the men you’ve hooked up with, they’ve always been older, brunette, with tattoos and an interest in ratty band t shirts— all of them have looked like Anakin. They’ve always looked like Anakin.

Looking down at you, Anakin’s gaze is hypnotized by your glossed lips moving up and down on his cock. His balls slap against your chin at a rapid pace, his cock aching for a warm release. He thinks about what you look like underneath that dress, thinks about how you’re such a fucking bitch for making him give into his raw and primal sensations like this.

“Don’t think you need to call me Anakin anymore, baby,” he inquires, with a growl grazing his plump lips. “Fuck… think you need a daddy, instead. One that’ll actually discipline you—“ he yanks on your head when you try to lift up and get some air, forcing you back down on him. “— and not let you act like a fuckin’ brat. Do you like tempting married men all the time like this, huh? Do you like tempting all of your dad’s friends? Don’t lift your fucking head up, baby, ‘m not done…”

Whining against his cock, your hand moves down against your clit. His degradations are making you desperate to reach your peak— and as fucked up as it is, yes, you do want to call him daddy, want him to take care of you and always keep your throat as his own personal fleshlight for his aching prick. His grip on your hair is causing blinding pain but it doesn’t matter.

As long as you please him.

He finally pulls you off of him, after a moment. Your chin is caked with drool, your eyes watery and tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re gasping, finally gulping in air after being smothered for so long.

“Breathe, honey,” Anakin murmurs, sweet despite his initial angry throat fucking. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. “Breathe for me.. there you go. Good girl.”

Relaxing against his thighs, you’re unbearably hot.

“Daddy..” you cry against him, wrapping your arms around his thick thigh. He frowns.

“Too much?” He asks, concerned. “Do you wanna stop? Or we could take a break..”

His caring demeanor makes your heart clench, and you can feel the tears actually stream down your cheeks now. No one has ever cared for you like this.

But as overwhelmed as you’re feeling, your pussy aches like no other and if you stop for even a millisecond you think you’ll die. You shake your head.

“No, daddy.“

He looks down at you, brows furrowed, and he nods.

“Okay, pretty. Cmon, stand up.” He gestures for you to get onto your feet, and when you ask why, he leans in close to your ear and gestures to your large vanity.

“I wanna fuck you.” He coos gently. “Wanna bend you over, right there. Can I?”

You nod as you pick yourself up on wobbly legs. You fall into him, allowing him to guide you over to the large table. He bends your pretty body over it, your ass in the air.

Anakin’s fingers play with the hem of your night. He loves it on you, thinks the color is so sweet and hypnotizing, but it has to come off or he thinks he’ll go crazy. He lifts up the fabric, yanking the material off to reveal yourself to him. Your cunt is exposed, all puffy, creamy, and slick. Anakin takes note that you aren’t wearing underwear and that your ass is almost too perfect. His hand comes down to lightly smack one of your cheeks. You whine, backing yourself up against him.

“Like a fuckin’ porn star,” he groans. “Body like a fuckin’ porn star, dollface. It’s perfect. And no panties? Sweetheart, you’re a dream.”

His finger ghosts over your swollen clit, and your hips buck against him desperately.

“Thank you, daddy. Wanted to be ready for you. Knew I wouldn’t be able to stay way if you started touching me..”

He smiles, his fingers spreading your slick across your button and down to your slit. He slips a finger inside, and you gasp a little bit. He rubs against your walls with his long digits, and he hits a certain spot that has your thighs crushing his hand. A smile forms on his face.

“Already?” He chuckles as he watches your desperation, rubbing against that spongy spot inside you. Your legs quiver. “Have you ever even been fingered before?”

“N-N-“ you pause, as he slips in another finger beside his first one. He begins to thrust rapidly, a burn forming in your core but nonetheless it feels fucking amazing. “No, no guy’s ever wanted to.”

“How the fuck could they not want to?” Anakin scoffs, baffled. Your wetness coats his fingers in creamy strings as he pulls them in and out of you. “Jesus, you’ve really been needing me. Huh, baby?”

“Always need you,” you whine. You’re close already; it’s insane how much Anakin’s touch affects you. Your wetness makes a loud gushing sound as he continuously finger fucks you. After a moment there’s rustling behind you, and Anakin’s fingers leave you. You whimper, but it’s not long before you’re moaning again when Anakin drops to his knees.

You’ve always dreamed of his tongue; watched how it looked poking his bottom lip, when he rubbed the inside of his cheek and made a noticeable bulge. And now, spreading your pussy lips with his strong hands, Anakin doesn’t hesitate to dive into your drenched cunt.

You gasp, his tongue beginning to draw harsh circles on your clit and then go back down to your tight hole. He pushes the muscle in as far as it can go, feeling against your walls. He practically whines as he does it— never in his life, not even with the woman he had decided to marry ten years ago, has he ever tasted a pussy this good. His cock is still out and rubbing against your calf, all wet and red and hard.

And after he makes you cum, he intends to split you in half with it.

He begins gliding his tongue over your clit again, and shoves his fingers back inside of you. Working you over and over, you can feel that you’re about to reach your peak. You can’t even say anything— his tongue is too perfect, too wet and warm against your aching bundle of nerves. The only thing that can leave your lips is his name as you cream all over his handsome face. You ride your high out with your hand behind you, burying itself in his black hair.

Breathing heavily, Anakin moves back up to grab your neck and turn your face towards his. He kisses you, passionate and with something else you can’t quite place. He grinds his cock against your lower back.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he grunts, as he lifts one of your legs up onto the vanity’s surface. It gives him easier access, and he bumps his tip up against your entrance. “You okay with that?”

You nod instantly.

At your confirmation, Anakin breaches your hole and pushes in slow.

It hurts at first. You’ve taken cock but never any as big as his. He holds your leg with one hand and your hip with the other. You can feel every ridge, every vein as he breaks you apart on him. Your head is down and the vanity digs into your skin, but it doesn’t matter because the way that Anakin holds you makes you feel safe, protected. As if your entire family isn’t downstairs, as if he isn’t taking you like a cheap whore in your childhood bedroom, while his wife is taking a ride in the car that he bought for her.

But you don’t think about that. You just close your eyes, bite your lip, and gratefully accept the birthday present beginning to pound your guts.

#Anakin Skywalker #Anakin Skywalker x reader #Anakin Skywalker x fem! reader #Anakin Skywalker x bimbo! reader #Modern! Anakin Skywalker #Dbf! Anakin Skywalker #Neighbor! Anakin Skywalker #Anakin Skywalker smut #Star Wars #Hayden Christenen #anakin skywalker fanfic

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naturesapphic · 10 days

Note

Yk « l’amour de ma vie » by billie can u write a fanfic abt French yn flirting with Billie in French and that’s why the tittle of her song is l’amour de ma vie (bc yn always call billie that and her heart melts every time cuz she finds that really cute) and one of un interviewing billie in French (like the Lena situation interview but in French)

French Interview

Billie eilish x French!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, cussing

Word count: 2,181 😭

A/n: I’m sorry if the translation got some of the words wrong I apologize I tried-

“Hey guys! Today vogue invited me over to interview a very special someone. Billie eilish aka my girlfriend!” I exclaimed as I did jazz hands over to my girlfriend Billie, who sat beside me. She looked over at me and giggled at my goofy jazz hands and face I was doing. “Hiiii everybody. I’m so glad to be back here.” Billie said softly as she waves to everyone and to the cameras.

You smiled big and explained to everyone that you will now be talking in French for most of the interview. “Alors Billie Eilish se blesse parfois ? Que diable?” (So Billie eilish does get hurt sometimes. What the hell?). Billie giggles and gives you a smile as she answers. “Right? It’s interesting to be a person who isn’t an outwardly sensitive complainer. A lot of moments on this album are about situations where I was like, ““I’d rather be tortured inside but have somebody think that I’m cool, than have somebody think that I’m hysterical and actually express my feelings.”” So many songs on this album reflect that realization of, like, “Maybe I’m obsessed with the idea of nonchalance.”” She says and you nod.

“oh ouais, c'est toi, c'est sûr bébé.” (Oh yeah, that’s you for sure baby.). You reply and Billie keeps going on with her answer. “I would rather suffer in silence than tell you something’s bothering me and have you think I’m sensitive.” She says and you roll your eyes playfully. “tu me rappelles un de mes ex-partenaire.” You said while eyeing her down. As soon as the translator translate what you said to her, she gives you a gentle shove that makes you laugh. “Quand nous nous sommes rencontrés pour la première fois, tu avais l'air d'avoir tout compris et tu étais plutôt fermé.” (when we first met, you seemed like you had it all together and kinda closed off).

Billie laughs and grabs one of your hands in hers as she answers. “I come off as a person that doesn’t care. I care about people and I have love and passion, but in relationships, I found myself never ever expressing any of my needs. It was interesting to notice I was doing that, and that’s what these lyrics are about. It’s almost like I resent myself for not advocating for myself, because maybe if I had, things would’ve changed. But I’ve always had an issue with weakness.” She said opening up more and more. “Well I’m glad you are getting better with expressing your needs towards me because you mean a lot to me bils.” You say as you look deep into her eyes. She smiles and waits for your next question.

“En pensant à “Skinny” qui entre dans “Lunch”, cela résume parfaitement l’ambiance du titre, car c’est un peu comme les refroidir puis les réchauffer.” (Thinking about “Skinny” going into “Lunch,” that sums up the vibe of the title perfectly, because it’s kind of like, cool them down and then heat them up.) “That was very purposeful. It’s hard and soft and hard and soft. There’s motifs and melodies that repeat and lyrics that call back to other songs. The songs morph into each other. It was purposeful to have “Skinny” do what it does, and then at the end you hear the drums for “Lunch.” And then “Lunch” comes in and slaps you in the face.” Billie replies and you nod along to her words.

“Vous vous demandez ce que les gens vont dire de la chanson “Lunch”?” (Are you wondering what people are going to say about the song “Lunch”?). “I’m pretty aware of what people will say. It’s so weird to grow up and change in front of the world. The craziest part is discovering things about myself and then suddenly, everyone else knows, and I don’t even have a second to think about how it makes me feel.” She confessed and you felt your heart break for her. “I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.” You say as you start rubbing her knuckles. “It was very frustrating but I wouldn’t have done it without you y/n so thank you love.” Billie said giving you a small but loving smile.

“Je me demandais, quand une de vos relations amoureuses se termine, pensez-vous la laisser avec mille questions ? Ou vous laissent-ils avec mille questions ? Ou est-ce partagé 50-50 ? Est-il plus dangereux de tomber amoureux de vous ? Ou est-il plus dangereux pour vous de tomber amoureux?” (I was wondering, when one of your romantic relationships ends, do you think you leave them with a thousand questions? Or do they leave you with a thousand questions? Or is it split 50-50? Is it more dangerous to fall in love with you? Or is it more dangerous for you to fall in love?) “I don’t even know. I think 50-50 is probably accurate. I literally hate who I am so much when I’m in love.” Billie replied and you let out a loud laugh that made her giggle at you.

“That’s one of the most masculine things you’ve said. Jeez Billie.” You giggle out and she smiles. “But don’t worry baby I love how I am when I’m in love with you.” She confessed and you felt your whole face heat up. “je t'aime, l'amour de ma vie.” (I love you, the love of my life). Billies face heat up and she leans over to give you a little kiss on your cheek. “I love you more angel.” She said. She didn’t even need the translator to tell her what you said because you always say I love you and that pet name to her in French. That’s why she named the song after that petname because she loves when you call her that a lot and it means a lot to her. Billie goes back on track and continues to answer your last question.

“I have a power issue and a control issue, and I also don’t like being vulnerable in a romantic way. It makes me feel uncomfortable, and I don’t know how many times I’ve really been in love. I think there’s different versions of love, and I think that you can be in love and it might not be deep. I’m not going to get too in detail, because I’m going to be rude, but I’ve never been dumped, and also, I’ve never been broken up with. I’ve only done the breaking up.” She confessed and you nod. “Yeah I’ve only done that a few times but I’ve mostly gotten broken up with.” You say and Billie nods. I think when people hear that, they’re like, “Oh, all you do is break hearts.” Sure, but that doesn’t mean that people are totally innocent. It means that I was like, “Oh, let me get the fuck out of here.” Or it means things just weren’t right.” Billie continued on.

“Now some of y’all about to be real mad at me, but I do believe that breaking up with someone versus being broken up with, obviously being broken up with hurts like hell, especially when you don’t see it coming and you wanted a future and it’s taken out of your hands. But honestly, the pain of knowing that you have to end something with somebody that you genuinely love is so horrible.” She confessed and you cocked your head to the side. “Really? I’m not sure if I completely agree but I will agree with how it does stay with you longer if you break up with somebody.” You say and Billie adds on. “I think so, too. And you don’t get to even have the, like, “I got dumped, so fuck you guys. I get to go crazy and have a reaction and be mad at you. And I get to make you into an enemy, because you broke up with me.” You can’t do that. You can’t become a victim.” She points out and you give a surprised look on your face.

“That’s actually very true. You don’t get to feel mad and shit. Wow I never thought of it like that.” You explained and Billie smiles. “Pour changer un peu de sujet, ce que vous dites me fait revenir sur vos premières musiques. Votre approche d’écriture n’est pas comme si elle se prêtait à l’hésitation. Il ne s’agit même pas de peindre quelque chose de sombre sur le plan sonore, mais c’est un peu bleu. En fait, tu utilises beaucoup le mot « bleu » dans cet album”. (To change the topic a bit, what you are saying is giving me flashbacks to your early music. Your writing approach is, it’s not like it lends itself to hesitancy. It’s not even painting something dark sonically, but it’s a little bit blue. You actually use the word “blue” a lot in this album).

“I love that you just pointed that out, and it’s making me think about how I don’t love to point fingers. Sometimes you want to, because you’re mad and you want people to feel for you and you want to feel seen. But I’m not going, “You did this to me.” It’s more, like, “We’re all allowed to feel however we feel based on whatever happened.” Also, it’s not about pointing my finger and blaming people: “And everybody, attack this person, because they hurt me.” It’s like, “I hurt me. And I have hurt me multiple times, and I allow other people to get to that point.” And that’s where I’m trying to draw the boundaries and protect my shadow.” Billie added on and you watched her in awe as she explains how she feels. “Comme il se doit. Et c’est parce que vous n’avez pas pointé du doigt que les gens vont se poser mille questions. Pour revenir au fait d'être toujours amoureux, les seules choses qui sont réelles sont les sentiments.” (As you should. And it’s because you didn’t point fingers that people will have a thousand questions. To go back to ever being in love, the only things that are real are feelings).

“I just had an experience the other day. I had some people over, and there was something happening that involved a lot of sensation and feeling and being in your body. And the person who is guiding me through this thing, I won’t even get into it, because it’s irrelevant to what I’m saying, there was this moment where they were talking about communication and saying, “Just remember to be aware of how you feel.” And I remember saying, “Oh, well, this is making me think of this, and I am feeling this.” I kept describing things. And he said to me, “I appreciate your psychoanalysis of what you’re feeling, but I don’t need you to analyze it. I just need you to feel it.” And that got to me. It made me think. It made me feel.” She explained and you felt your eyes tear up at her words. “I love that. It’s really the scariest thing of all. But for overthinkers, it can be a good practice to just feel and then move by those emotions. So yeah, we don’t need to end with a question, because I think the gift of being with you, whether you’re present or nonchalant or considering whether you’re being nonchalant in this moment, is that your instant impact on a room, even if you don’t say anything, makes people feel a lot. Even my band told me that. When you walked out, they were like, “Damn, she’s good. She makes you feel a lot.” And I was like, “Try sitting next to her when she’s looking into your eyes. It’s crazy.”” You say and Billie looks deep in your eyes as you talk.

“Eh bien, je n’ai plus de questions aujourd’hui mais l’amour de ma vie, j’adore ton album et toutes les chansons qu’il contient. Je suis incroyablement fier de toi et merci de m'avoir permis de t'aimer. Au revoir tout le monde ! Le flux m'a frappé fort et doucement!” (Well I don’t have any more questions today but the love of my life, I absolutely love your album and all of the songs on it. I’m so incredibly proud of you and thank you for letting me love you. Goodbye everyone! Stream hit me hard and soft). You waved bye to everyone and Billie was blowing kisses to the camera and the interview was done. Billie and you went back to y’all’s house and spent the rest of the day there in each others arms.

A/n: holy shit that was a lot. Over two thousand words omg. PLEASE REBLOG, COMMENT, LIKE, SHARE, ANYTHING PLEASE LMAO thank you anon for the request, I hope you love it and I hope the rest of y’all do too. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :)

#billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fic #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish x you #billie eilish imagine #billie #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #billie o’connell #french #eilish #billieeilish

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popponn · 10 months

Text

a boyfriend package. [itoshi rin x reader]

summary: itoshi rin is good at soccer. itoshi rin is not good at jokes and cheering up, but for you, he tries anyway. (aka, you are stressed and rin is there.)

notes: this fic had so much thought but the main is "if you have itoshi rin on your side you could probably do anything". to everyone at uni and school, good luck. warning: other than minor curses, none. fluff, reader's gender unspecified, post canon au, reader is a student struggling against exams & essays.

“You are not done yet?”

You, a student who had probably resembled a zombie more at this point, lift your head up from the materials you were supposed to finish within two days. There were certainly other problems you were facing, however, you had no strength to gaze at them at the moment. Instead, you landed your eyes on your boyfriend, leaning against the doorway of your room with two cups of store-bought coffee. Which was hilarious—Itoshi Rin, a solid football career, an aloof reputation which was very true, and no educational deadline because of said football career.

Wait—does Itoshi Rin even drink coffee?

Your brain couldn’t really remember that piece of information.

It could curse out your very lovely and handsome Rin out of envy though. You wished him a very slow internet connection until your freedom next week.

Hearing how the voices in your head had started complete nonsense, you shook your head and returned your focus back to the wall of letters that didn’t seem to have an end in front of you. It would be better for you to save your words and thoughts for this seemingly unending hurdle, instead of using it to say things about the very kind Rin who bought you coffee.

Though, you did remember what one of his friends posted on Finestagram yesterday. A picture of a bunch of guys having fun outside. A hand around his shoulder in an act of friendliness and a very clear time that was spent pleasantly. Without pressure too, on top of that. Fuck—you tried not to cry—you are so jealous of them.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

Oh, right.

You forgot to reply to him.

“Not yet,” you smiled bitterly, “there are still some more left.”

Which was an understatement. Around two thick piles of papers awaited you.

As it was, Rin didn’t even bat an eyelash at your response nor to the faraway look you gave to the tower of books on your desk. He, however, did put a cup of coffee right beside your left hand. On that cup, a smiling mascot with a peanut shape said something about enjoying your time. You didn’t know if the correct choice to that was to bawl or to laugh like a madman.

You were half-asleep after eight hours of cramming and your brain felt like it was burning. In the end, even a tear or a chuckle was a bit beyond your capability at this point.

“…hey,” Rin said again, flatly. A hand awkwardly placed itself on one of your shoulders.

“You sure say a lot of ‘hey’ today,” you noted, leaning your head, slotting it on his stomach. His muscles were hard, but the proximity did comfort you. “…what is it though?”

“…if I drive, and you say ‘stop, deer’,” Rin began awkwardly, out of nowhere with a voice that trembled slightly as if he was under an incredible weight, “I will say ‘yes honey’.”

You stopped breathing at what he just said. No matter how scattered your brain was, you immediately snapped him a bewildered look. You knew you were on the verge of insanity, but Rin—

“What.”

You had been dating him for two years and more and Rin—as much as you love him—is definitely not a joke guy. Did he got possessed? Was it because he drank coffee?

As you ransacked your brain for an answer, you watched an explosion of red on Rin’s face reaching his neck. As that hue stayed on his face, unbudging, Rin’s face turned sour and darkened as he muttered some violating insults that seemed to be directed at Bachira and Otoya.

You raised an eyebrow at that. “Rin. What? Huh?” you repeated, trying to grasp the situation. “Who put you into this?”

You knew you were risking your study in what could end up being a prologue to two murder cases, but that joke was bad enough that it restarted your brain. You would risk a 4-hour delay because honestly what could make Itoshi Rin joke—

Oh.

As the silence between Rin and you stretched, you realized how he seemed to lose the courage to see you in the eye. A red face that was as bashful as it looked like a face belonging to a terrible stomachache patient, yet the comforting pressure Rin gave to your shoulder as he rubbed his thumb—suddenly, it was as clear as day.

This fine dumbass of yours was trying to cheer you up, it seemed.

You laughed out loud at that—perhaps a bit too high-pitched with too much wheezing. However, imagining Rin taking a page from his friends’ books—fuck you hate those words so much still right now but yet—just to cheer you up, it is adorable. And, Rin seemed to accept your ugly chortles as his eyes finally moved to you again.

“Did—” you wheezed again, your whole body still shaking as you pressed your chin to his hip. The smell of Rin’s detergent was your preferred fragrance, widening your smile even more, “—did Bachira and Otoya put you into this? Is that why you cussed them out?”

“Don’t come up with your own conclusion,” Rin scolded with a tone that spelled out relief and fondness.

“Then, what is it? Tell me—you just made a joke. A pun. That’s something,” you teased. In the back of your mind, a heavy static was still present, yet you really couldn’t mind their presence with Rin beside you like this.

Rin grunted and messed up your head, looking down at you with a look that was certainly too soft for his cold & cool guy brand. “Shut up. That’s none of your business.”

“Aw, come on! Tell me!” you protested. Rin shook you off as you started to try and pull his cheeks with your grubby hands. Walking away, he pulled a stool that he had left behind in your room after his tenth visit to your house many months ago.

“No,” Rin said curtly, leaving no room for protest as he tapped your laptop screen lightly. “Now get back to studying.”

At the reminder, it was your turn to wear a sour glum on your face. “Ugh.”

He glared half-heartedly at you. Bumping a knee against your chair slightly. “Don’t fucking say ‘ugh’.”

“But…” you wanted to say that you still wanted to tease him a bit more. You wanted to just do something with him a bit longer. Returning to the passage of curses meant that you couldn’t do that.

Rin looked at you for a moment. You couldn’t fathom what went through in his mind as you glanced at him. However, whatever it was, it pushed Rin to get his face closer to you.

Then, before you could even react to it, Rin pressed a light kiss on top of your forehead.

It was soundless in the way it was surprising. Your eyes were wide as Rin pulled away and returned to his previous position. This time, the red hue and his inability to look you in the eye returned. Looking towards anywhere but you, Rin perched his chin on top of his palm.

“Hurry up and study,” Rin ordered once again. “I will accompany you today, so stop whining.”

There was a prime chance for you to tease him about not practicing instead. Yet, for a solid 30 seconds, all your brain had become was a mush and an incoherent noise. Rin probably should take some responsibility and you should demand so—

Yet, you could only smile and return to your study. Hooking your ankle with one of Rin’s just so you could feel him close still.

“You owe me a kiss and a treat after this.”

“I bought you coffee already.”

“Oh, Rin—come on, I need motivation—”

“Fucking finish it first.”

Afterward, you pulled out a miracle by finishing everything within 3 hours and the rest was history.

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sommerregenjuniluft · 4 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic june 1st — pride — 1804words — nsfw! aka regulus purchases something and james is fortunate enough to unpack for @itmeanssungod & @veryinnovative

It’s been a while since Regulus started toying with the idea of trying out packing for himself.

He doesn’t have too much dysphoria during sex anymore—which he is grateful for—since he’s completely healed from top surgery and especially with partners he knows.

But lately Regulus has found out it feels really fucking good to just- keep the strap on afterwards. Just haphazardly yank on his boxer briefs once they’re done, purple tip peeking out over the top of the hem, and sex drunkenly stumble into the kitchen to get himself a gatorade from the fridge. Evan prefers water, which they keep in the room, and Barty prefers to crank open a window and smoke one.

It’s empowering in a way, he guesses. He’s still living with his brother and James is over more times than he is not. Just liking the company of a busy house full of people he reasons with a shrug every time the topic comes up. Missing the old days in a dorm.

Regulus is pretty sure there’s truth in that statement but he’s also not stupid and convincing himself he’s only imagining the looks James is sending his way has only worked for so long. It’s near ridiculous to think he’s been oblivious to it for so long.

But Regulus isn’t anymore because when he’d gone to get his gatorade James had, to spell it out politely, nearly died from choking on his pasta salad when he’d looked up from his phone and at Regulus.

So with the arrival of pride Regulus had saved up and treated himself with the purchase of a flaccid strap on. It matches his skin colour nearly perfectly, the head showing from under the foreskin. It’s got a nice feel to it, it’s proportionate to his body when Regulus looks at himself in the mirror and it’s comfortable where it’s hanging between his legs and resting in his underwear when he puts his clothes back on. It’s a little ridiculous but he knows it’s important so Regulus allows himself to tear up about it a little. About how bone deep good it makes him feel about himself.

He’s in grey joggers and a form fitting black T-shirt. Regulus turns to the side in front of the mirror, cups himself through the soft material of his pants. Barely audible he can hear James humming to himself in the kitchen. Regulus smirks.

“James,” Regulus greets as he enters the kitchen.

“Oh, hi, Reg,” James says, lifting from over the stove and taking out his airpods from where he was bobbing his head to the music playing on them.

Regulus plops himself on a free spot on the counter and picks up a bottle of sauce he doesn’t recognise to busy himself with reading the label. “What are you cooking?”

James hums and proceeds to explain to him where he found the recipe on social media and what health benefits it has and how good it’s going to taste.

Regulus half listens and half plots internally how he’s going to subtly make James aware of his newest possession.

“Can I do something to help?”

“Err,” James blinks for a moment, then he lets out a chuckle, “The Regulus Black offering to help in the kitchen on his own volition? How much money do you need?”

Regulus rolls his eyes and swats him in the chest. “I was very much being sincere, for your information. But I can go of course, if my presence is not needed,” he says and makes to stand up.

“No no,” James replies quickly, raising his palms in a pacifying manner. They’re closer now and Regulus can see where James’ brain has momentarily paused its task of persuading Regulus to stay in favour of simply staring at him. His curls, his eyes, his lips.

Regulus raises his eyebrows.

“You– ehm,” James starts, swallowing, “You caaaan– set the table?”

“Are you asking or telling?” Regulus inquires, taking another half step closer and delighting in the small intake of breath from James.

“Telling,” James answers. “Please.”

Regulus nods, biting back a smirk, and steps around James to get cutlers.

After he’s set those out he waits for James to go back to stirring the pasta that’s cooking on one of the back burners, right underneath the shelf with the plates.

Regulus comes up from behind and sets a hand on James’ hip. “Pardon,” he murmurs and then stretches up on his toes, pressing his crotch right into James’ backside.

It has its desired effect immediately.

James’ breath hitches and in the next second he’s making an aborted noise deep in his throat.

Regulus’ lips twitch upwards at the corners, “Something wrong?”

James shakes his head, his voice cracking on the m-mh he makes, not opening his mouth. His hand is completely still where he’s got the wooden spoon gripped.

Regulus hums, leans in impossibly closer, really rubbing himself into James’ ass. James lets out a wheeze. Regulus tilts his head, mouth right next to the other’s ear, “How many do we need?”

“Hm?” James’ voice is thin.

“How many do we need, James?” Regulus repeats, fingers over his hip tightening marginally.

“Ah- um, what? Sorry, I’m—”

“Plates, James,” Regulus tuts, grinding his hips forward slightly, “How many plates?”

“O-oh,” James seems to take a deep, steadying breath, “Five?”

Regulus hums and then with one last little thrust grabs the plates before lifting back down and extracting himself.

He can feel James’ eyes glued to him the whole while Regulus is setting them on the table, neatly next to the cutlery. It fills Regulus’ entire body with a warm feeling. Eventually he saunters back over, coming to a stop right next to James, who is currently indecently staring at Regulus’ crotch. If it was anyone else in any other situation Regulus would have already punched them in the nose but this is different. This is Regulus purposely instigating and James stepping right into the trap Regulus has carefully placed between the foliage.

“Something you wanna ask?” Regulus ducks his head, catching James’ gaze where it’s evidently trained on his lap.

He doesn’t quite manage to suppress his grin this time. James seems to notice that, sputtering at first before realisation dawns on his face.

“You– oh, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” James replies, eyes narrowed slightly, flush high on his cheekbones regardless.

“Doing what?” Regulus asks innocently. He sets his elbows on the counter behind him, jutting out his hips teasingly.

James groans obscenely and then proceeds to cage Regulus right in, settling two palms on either side of Regulus’ elbows.

“Regulus.” There’s a warning quality to the way James presses out his name.

“James,” Regulus purrs, angling his face to look up at the older man through his lashes.

James breathes out roughly through his nose, pupils dilating. “You’re packing, aren’t you?”

“I might be.”

“And you wanted me to know.”

Regulus makes a non-committal sound.

“God,” James curses, “You’re so infuriating. Do you know how hard it is to not—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. James’ eyes are roving over his face for clues and Regulus guesses if James is taking the inch, Regulus might as well give him the mile. Or, rather, the rest of the inches.

“You wanna see it?”

James’ mouth opens soundlessly. It takes a moment before he answers. “It?”

“My cock,” Regulus explains, licking his lips. “It’s new.”

James moans quietly, “Yeah, Reg, I wanna see your cock, fuck.”

Regulus sets his hands against the muscle connecting James’ neck and shoulder, “Can you get on your knees for me?”

“Is the sky blue?” James retorts, eyes glazing over as he sinks down in front of Regulus without further prompting. When he looks back up at Regulus with big, Bambi brown eyes from behind his glasses he looks so sweet Regulus considers briefly if he might be in over his head. “Can I?” James asks, gently hiking his fingertips into the band of Regulus’ sweats.

Regulus nods and with that James pulls the clothing down.

There’s a little bit of nervous yet excited sweat breaking out on Regulus’ palms but before he has the opportunity to overthink, he already hears the groan punching out of James.

“Fuck, Reg,” James whispers. “Oh, Christ, you’re so gorgeous. Look at him.”

Regulus sucks in an unsteady inhale and twists his fingers into the unruly mess that is James’ hair, having to hold onto something suddenly.

“You like it?” Regulus rasps.

James answers with a slightly delirious laugh tumbling out of him. He shakes his head in awe, fingers digging into the soft muscle of Regulus’ thighs. “Reg, don’t slap me, I’m just being sincere when I say I wanna take you into my mouth so badly.”

Regulus dampens a moan into a sigh, “You can.”

James rips his gaze away from his cock, a starstruck look in his pretty, dark eyes when he gapes up at him. Regulus nods his reassurance.

“Oh fuck.”

Then James is sucking Regulus’ flaccid strap into his mouth. Working his tongue around it, hallowing his cheeks and really giving it his all. Like his goal is to get Regulus as hard as fast as humanly possible.

And Regulus knows it’s logically impossible but he swears he can feel James tonguing at him, getting terribly aroused by the image and feel of James giving him a fucking blowjob right there in the kitchen. A small noise slips out of Regulus and he accidentally tightens his grip in James’ hair. James responds beautifully, moaning around Regulus in his mouth and eyes fluttering like he’s getting off just as much on all of this as Regulus is. His lips stretch prettily around the silicone and Regulus thumbs softly at the stubble on James’ jaw.

There’s a moment where their eyes meet when James takes him all the way into the back of his throat, making the end of the strap push back against Regulus’ centre, where Regulus has the sudden realisation that he’s going to come if James keeps this up.

And that is decidedly the moment the front door opens, the laughter of their friends echoeing through the hallway.

James keens when Regulus pulls him off and quickly tugs the waistband of his sweatpants back up and pulls on James’ shirt until he stands as well. He looks like a kicked puppy as Regulus ushers him back to the stove, shoving the wooden spoon against his chest to stir the probably totally overcooked pasta. His mouth is twisted into a pout or maybe that’s just them being swollen from having Regulus in his mouth.

Fuck it.

He takes James’ jaw in a loose grip to get his attention again. “Finish this after dinner?”

James’ answer is a bright smile and a quick kiss he steals himself against Regulus’ wrist.

#hehe Unpack. get it? because regulus is #yeah anyway #jegulus #jegulus microfic #lune is back in the game i thinks #trans regulus #trans regulus black #sunseeker #starchaser #james potter #regulus black #jegulus fic #lune’s tiny fic #james potter x regulus black #regulus black x james potter

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stinkysam · 2 months

Text

Serge “Frenchie” - Bad movies.

Warning : nsfw, long ass intro, semi public sex (can we still call it that when there's just another person in the room ?), spit for lube, no protection, blowjob (giving), edging, breath restriction (?), humping, slight degradation/praise

Genre : smut

Synopsis : You're in hiding with the boys in a basement in the back of some random store, and private moments are most definitely not private but it doesn't seem to be a problem for you and Frenchie. Aka Hughie hears more than he'd like to. During season 2. Idea by @jadenisdead

Reader : male (you/yours)

While Butcher, M.M and Annie were at their respective places, you, Hughie, Kimiko and Frenchie stayed hidden at the back of some store watching movies for movie night. But everything that was playing turned out to be bad.

You sighed, bored. By your feet, sitting on the floor was Hughie, fighting hard to not fall asleep, his head resting on your knees. Leaning on your shoulder was your boyfriend Frenchie with Kimiko's head on his lap, eyes closed. Clearly, the movie was not entertaining at all and soon Hughie had enough.

“Well, I uh, I'm going to bed.” He said, clearing his voice before yawning while stretching as he got up. “Not that it's boring or anything, but uh…”

“It's boring.” You replied frankly with a nod. Frenchie humming in agreement absentmindedly, probably more lost in his thoughts than whatever was going on on the screen.

“Yeah… It's a disaster.” Hughie slid his hands in his pockets, giving the TV one last glance, a last chance to give him something not boring, but alas his wish wasn't granted, so he left.

You thought for a second and decided to go as well. You kissed Frenchie’s cheek and told him you were going too. He smiled and nodded.

You reached your bed, it was small but at least you didn't sleep on the couch or on a mattress on the floor. Though most of the time Frenchie was sleeping glued to you rather than in his makeshift bed.

You could still see the TV from where you were and after a few minutes, you saw Frenchie get up, put what seemed like a blanket over Kimiko and joined you, leaving the TV on in fear the lack of background noise would wake her up.

As usual, you moved closer to the wall to give him some space and opened your arms, letting him crawl into them, laying on top of you instead of by your side, his head resting next to yours.

“Well, that was uh… how to say… ennuyant.” Frenchie said with a grimace, quietly. He looked at your face when you turned your head toward him, nose to nose.

“Wanna do something better ?” You wiggled your eyebrows in a joking manner, though it was barely seen in the darkness of the basement. Even during the day and with every light on, it was still rather dark.

Frenchie squirmed a bit, trying to find a comfortable spot before answering, curious.

“And what do you have in mind, huh ?”

“In my mind ?” You kissed his forehead sweetly. “Ton cul.” You smiled, your hands suddenly grabbing his ass, earning a chuckle, quickly his hands went under your shirt, exploring.

“But, il y a Kimiko et petit Hughie. Doesn't it bother you ?” He whispered, though he already knew your answer.

“Et toi, ça te dérange ?” Your smile could be heard in your voice. “Kimiko dort depuis un bail, et Hughie… je suis sûr qu'il est déjà out.” You kissed his forehead once more while your hands wandered under his clothes, caressing his hot skin, feeling the scars on his back. “Plus it never stopped us before.” You pointed out, now kissing the top of his nose.

“C'est vrai. But not around the boys.” He argued, his hands grabbing your face to pull you into a proper kiss.

“But is it really around the boys if it's just two of them ? Asleep ?” You said, still smiling as Frenchie pulled away from you to remove his shirt, you quickly did the same, throwing them on the floor.

“Mais je suis pas contre.” He closed the distance, regaining his spot against you. “I just don't want them to…�� He shook his head. “Hear.”

“Then be silent.” There was a hint of laughter in your voice, as you kissed his cheek, mocking him a bit. “Ou petit Hughie ne sera pas capable de te regarder dans les yeux.” You pouted and nudged him, faking a saddened voice, and though he couldn't see it, he knew you were still smiling cheekily but before he could say anything, you bit his cheek, making him yelp loudly.

“Aie ! Shhhh !”

“Don't shush me, you're the one making noise.” You laughed quietly before yelping as well. He had pinched your left side.

“Now who's the one making noises, huh ?” He asked, proudly, as he backed away from you, resting on his elbows, still on top of you.

“Oh, je te promet, that will be you.” You giggled before kissing his lips, your hands roaming once more over his body.

“...Mmmh, peut-être.” He admitted, chuckling, making you laugh as well before pushing him off of you, Frenchie now laying under you, close to the edge of the bed.

You crawled backward toward his legs, pulling his pants down, kissing your way to his pelvis, taking your time, his eyes never leaving you, one of his hands landed on the top of your head.

You gently grabbed his dick, jerking him at a steady pace. He sighed, closing his eyes, head resting against your only pillow.

“Remember, no noises. Like in ‘A quiet place’.”

Frenchie snorted.

“You didn't even watch the movies.” He laughed, looking back at you. You flicked his balls with your middle finger and he hissed loudly, grimacing, looking at you with a frown. “Hey !” He whispers-yelled.

“I still know what it's about.” You retorted.

“Okay, okay… Désolé.” He sighed, more turned on than upset over the flicking.

You kissed his tip, making a trail down and up his length before wrapping your lips around it. It didn't take long for him to be fully hard, one hand massaging his thighs slowly while you started to bob your head up and down, your other hand taking care of his balls. You could hear Frenchie squirming and letting out small gasps and hisses occasionally.

The hand on your head guiding you to go faster, fucking your mouth, your teeth threatening to scrape against his dick, which you did from time to time, just for fun, just to hear his voice get louder for a second.

Then you decided to slow things down, wanting to annoy him so he wouldn't get what he wanted so easily and quickly.

“No, don't stop.” He complained, but you didn't listen.

You pulled away, going back to kissing his wet cock and his thighs, even nipping and sucking at the soft skin, leaving small red marks while your hand jerked him slowly then quickly, then slowly again. Each time he was about to come you pulled away, not touching him until he had calmed down and was ready for more.

Of course more pre would appear, coating your hand and his own dick, making a bit of a mess.

After a while, Frenchie seemed to have enough of this chasing game.

“Please- please, please, please, let me come, mon cœur…” He begged, trying his best to stay quiet but each time you denied him made him louder. You didn't know if he was aware of that and if he still cared about it, but you sure weren't going to tell him to quiet down.

“What a pretty boy.” You cooed, enjoying the view, kissing his inner thigh.

His dick kept twitching and throbbing at your touch, wanting more, wanting to feel the sweet release. But you didn't want him to reach it yet. You gave him your index and middle finger to suck instead, his open mouth letting more moans come out freely. Then you pulled them out, slowly dragging them down to his ass, pushing them in. He groaned at the sensation before starting to adjust to it.

You fingered and jerked him at different paces, watching as Frenchie struggled to move his hips accordingly, chasing both sensations. You continued to tease his tip with your tongue, trying to draw shapes or words on his shaft, drooling a bit on your chin and on him. You kept stopping every now and then, not wanting him to cum just yet, his angry red cock leaking with beads of pre-come looking absolutely delicious.

Then you stopped everything. Frenchie's head snapped up to look at you, confused with a fucked out expression, before seeing you remove your pants.

“Tourne-toi.” You simply said and he did as asked. “Good boy.”

You exhaled when you wrapped a hand around your own dick, not caring if Hughie could hear you as you jerked yourself, Frenchie's eyes were on you, watching your every move. Then you stopped, you spat on your hand and smeared it on your cock before spreading his asscheeks open and slowly pushing yourself inside him. You sighed, loving how snug he felt around you, he hummed loudly, trying to ignore the stinging feeling, closing his eyes.

You caressed his ass, before leaning closer, leisurely bucking your hips into him. With each thrust you were rewarded with quiet grunts and gasps, sounding so pretty.

Your hand went around his throat, holding him up against you, not enough to choke him, but enough to disturb his breathing, making him breathe and pant loudly.

He accidentally let out a loud strangled moan as your tip tickled his prostate, and you angled yourself so it happened again and again. His dick was rubbing against the mattress, smearing pre-come onto the sheets and himself.

More moans and gasps escaped his lips, grunting as he struggled to breathe comfortably, and if you listened closely, you could hear him babbling. A mixture of whispered “Please, please, please.” and “Need to cum.” mingled together.

He came like this, shooting ropes of cum under himself, unable to warn you beforehand, and claiming it happened too quickly.

But instead of stopping you continued moving.

“T'es vraiment une pute, hein ?” You hissed. “Pas capable de prévenir.”

“Désolé, je suis désolé.” He whispered, voice raspy.

You squeezed his throat a bit more so it would be more difficult for him to breathe, releasing him every now and then and soon enough he was hard again, from your dick continuously fucking him and his rubbing the sheets.

“Be a dear and warn me next time.”

Frenchie nodded quickly.

He could feel the wet stain of his cum on the sheets under him, his cock rubbing against it, smearing it even more as more pre came out.

You continued touching his prostate with the tip of your dick, ripping moans after moans out of him.

“Shhhh, what if Hughie hears you ? Or if you wake up Kimiko ?” You whispered in his ear. “Mh ?”

“Please.” Is all Frenchie could say, eyes closed and grimacing. He felt so close from cumming, again. He needed it.

“You want them to hear how much of a whore you are ?”

“S'il te plait, mon cœur. I can’t do this anymore.” He urged, voice straining and a bit louder than he had intended to.

“Je t'ai posé une question.” You stopped every movement, wanting to make your point across.

“Don’t stop, please.” He groaned, annoyed, trying to move his hips against you to get something.

“Frenchie.” You said sternly but he didn't answer. So you pulled him closer against you by his throat, completely stopping him from breathing. “Do I need to repeat myself ?”

Came out of his lips a little and weak “No.”

“Then answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, quoi ?”

“Oui, je veux qu'ils entendent à quel point je suis ta pute.” His voice was still straining. Frenchie coughed and breathed loudly once you let him go, though not completely as your hand was still holding him close to you.

“You see ? Was that so hard, my love ?” You said, caressing his side, rolling your hips against him as he shook his head “no”.

Knowing he was being loud, he quickly put a hand on his mouth to muffle any sounds that could come out of him.

“Put that hand away, love.”

Even if it took a few seconds, Frenchie still obeyed and took his hand away from his mouth. Letting his trying-to-be-quiet moans fill the room slowly. And soon, your own moans could be heard as well, a sign you were close to cumming.

“God, you feel so good.” You whispered quickly, feeling him clench around you as if he was trying to suck you in.

“I'm gonna cum.” Frenchie said, voice trembling, eyes closed as he was lost in the pleasure, trying to move under you, chasing his high.

“Go ahead, pretty boy.” You replied, kissing his ear as you tried to reach deeper into him, fucking him thoroughly. “I'm close too.”

Moans fell freely out of his lips as he came, more cum pooling under him as you shot yours into his ass.

Gasping for air and sighing loudly, you both slowly regained your composure, you pulled out and fell to the side, on your back, Frenchie still on his stomach.

“You think they heard us ?” He whispered, nudging you with his elbow, turning his head to look at you.

“Last time I checked, Hughie wasn't deaf.” You whispered back. “Right Hughie !?”

“Shut up, leave me alone.” Hughie replied, clearly upset.

You couldn't help but laugh, and quickly, Frenchie followed.

“I'm sorry, mon ami.” He said, in between laughter. “I simply thought that you were asleep.” He added, defending himself.

Hughie ignored him, too pissed to think properly of a comeback.

“Why are you not asleep ? At this hour ? Mh ?” Frenchie asked, moving his head in his direction.

“Maybe because you two are being obnoxiously loud, and fucking in my presence ?!”

You couldn't help but laugh again, your hand resting on Frenchie’s back. But Hughie continued.

“I'm sorry if sounds of fucking is not what I fall asleep to.”

“I do, sometimes.” Frenchie admitted, chuckling happily.

“It's because you're deranged, my love.” You said, kissing his head.

“It's like your huh… ASMR videos.” He argued, now turning toward you. “Think about it.”

“No. No it's not. No it's not. The context is different.”

“Why are there videos of people moaning quietly or kissing the mic, huh ? Or not safe for work ASMR, mh ?”

You looked at him, dumbfounded.

“You know an awful lot for someone who doesn't like it.” You finally said.

“You're just in le dénis.” You could tell Frenchie was smiling, confident in his statement.

“Can you just shut up ?!” Hughie said loudly, too tired to condone more of this, his pillow folded to cover both his ears. “Or go debate somewhere else about… About porn ASMR or whatever !”

He was no longer grimacing in horror, now staring at the table in front of him with an empty look and a hint of hatred. He had troubles sleeping since Robin's death and joining the boys, he's had enough trauma with how many guts he got on himself on a daily, he estimated it simple enough to not ever think he'd find himself in the situation where he'd hear two of his friends fucking while he's trying to sleep, a dozen of feet away from them.

Frenchie looked at you and shrugged.

“Bonne nuit, then ?”

“Met d'abord la couverture pleine de jus par terre.” You said with a laugh, pushing it off from under you. Instead you heard him get up, walk naked in the room as Hughie groaned in annoyance, probably closing his eyes to not accidentally see Frenchie naked even though it was too dark to see anything, before coming back and putting the cum stained sheet on the floor.

“I got us another one.”

Traduction - Translation :

Ennuyant. - Boring.

Ton cul. - Your ass.

Il y a Kimiko et petit Hughie. - There's Kimiko and petit Hughie.

Et toi, ça te dérange ? - And you, it bothers you ?

Kimiko dort depuis un bail, et Hughie… je suis sûr qu'il est déjà out. - Kimiko's asleep since a long time, and Hughie… I'm sure he's already out.

C'est vrai. - It's true.

Mais je suis pas contre. - But I'm not against it.

Ou petit Hughie ne sera pas capable de te regarder dans les yeux. - Or petit Hughie won't be able to look you in the eyes.

Oh, je te promet. - Oh, I promise you.

Peut-être. - Maybe.

Désolé. - Sorry.

Tourne-toi. - Turn around.

T'es vraiment une pute, hein ? - You really are a slut, huh ?

Pas capable de prévenir. - Unable to warn.

Désolé, je suis désolé. - Sorry, I am sorry

S'il te plait. - Please.

Je t'ai posé une question. - I asked you a question.

Quoi ? - What ?

Oui, je veux qu'ils entendent à quel point je suis ta pute. - Yes, I want them to hear how much of your whore I am.

Le dénis. - The denial.

Bonne nuit. - Good night.

Met d'abord la couverture pleine de jus par terre. - First, put the sheet full of juice on the floor.

#male reader #m!reader #the boys #the boys x male reader #the boys imagine #the boys frenchie #frenchie #frenchie imagine #frenchie the boys #frenchie x male reader #the boys tv

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solar-wing · 6 months

Text

⚣ Nightwing's Shadow 🌙

🌃 | Part 1 | 🌃

⚣🌙 Summary → So much for being a symbol. He gave in to Dick, gave into the thing he was fighting so hard against. And now, he's about to find out the consequences of his actions. Y/N's life as well as Shadow's is about to flip upside down.

⚣🌙 Words → 11.3K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💜

⚣ ENJOY 🌙

Well, so much for being a symbol.

Y/N, aka Shadow, the Omega Savior, could not think of any other moment in his life where his ego and dignity were this bruised. How did he go from this prideful, independent Omega, who fought against society’s rules and roles that allowed barbaric Alphas to treat his kind like sex objects, only to give in just because he had this intense curiosity and attraction to his former boss’ adopted son?

Serious question, like an answer is needed.

Even if no one else had been a witness to his deplorable choice and weak resolve against a hot and demanding Alpha, Y/N couldn’t help the shame and humiliation he felt after letting himself get fucked and bred in his old office by Dick Grayson. The same Alpha who had been pursuing harassing him for months as both Dick and Nightwing, his vigilante alter-ego which Y/N had also just discovered as well.

How he didn’t make the connection earlier that they were the same person was beyond him.

Thankfully, the only other potential witness to Y/N’s display of horrible decision-making had hopefully run and left the building as instructed. The last thing he wanted and needed was for his former co-worker and friend, Wyndall to see him become another victim/statistic to the fucked up society they lived in that made Omegas nothing more than house slaves and fuck possessions for their Alpha counterparts.

Again, so much for being a symbol.

And now, as he was carried over the shoulder of Nightwing, bound and gagged with a freshly fucked and bred hole, he began to realize just how much his curiosity was about to cost him.

They made their way from Y/N’s office to the parking garage where the Batmobile waited for them. The acrobat deposited them both into the vehicle, setting the Omega down on his lap rather than the passenger seat while plugging in their route back to the Batcave.

As the car made its way out of the garage, Y/N struggled in his restraints, feeling uncomfortable not just from the situation, but from the noticeable hard-on currently pressing into his bottom from the Alpha.

Nightwing chuckled, tightening his grip around the Omega, and nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

"You smell so good, baby. So sweet. I can't wait to get you home and take my time with you," He said while rubbing his fingers up and down the Omega's body creating a light tickling sensation through his spandex suit.

Y/N moaned softly through the cloth gag Dick had put on him when he wouldn't stop making noises in the hall trying to alert anyone of the security guards that were probably still knocked out. His body was still sensitive after their little 'fun time' in his old office, and the Alpha's touch was sending shivers all throughout his body.

He hated how easily his body responded to the man while Nightwing chuckled, his hands moving to the Omega's hips, holding him still.

"Don't worry, we'll be home soon. Then I can take care of you properly."

Y/N whined, trying to move away from the man's touch, but the Alpha held him firmly on his lap. He even forced the Omega to lean back against him so he could nuzzle his face and neck while ghosting his fingers down the front of the smaller male's body.

"Hmm, if only this ride wasn't so short and we weren't being expected. I'd love to just slip my cock into you right now and fill you up again. Or maybe I could bend you over the console and we could do it doggy. I think there's enough room in here for that," Nightwing mused, his hand slipping inside the front of the Omega's pants, and rubbing his fingers over the still throbbing and leaking cunt under his suit.

Y/N whimpered, his eyes rolling back as the Alpha continued to tease him, his fingers slowly dipping inside him, and rubbing his nub and cocklette.

"You're still so wet and open for me, baby. I bet you'd love to have my knot buried deep inside you, wouldn't you?"

Y/N moaned through his gag, his mind becoming clouded by the pleasure the Alpha was giving him. He didn't want to admit it, but the idea of the vigilante fucking him while driving sounded so hot.

"What's that, Y/N? I couldn't quite understand you," Nightwing asked, clearly mocking and teasing him while his fingers stopped their movements and pulled out of the Omega's pants.

Y/N groaned, his body trembling and shaking from the sudden loss of stimulation. He knew Dick was an asshole, but this was just an even bigger reminder of how much an asshole he could be. He tried to grind his hips back against the growing hard-on, hoping to get him to continue, but the Alpha held him still.

"Ah, ah, ah, Y/N. You're going to have to use your words. If you want something, then you're going to have to ask for it nicely."

Y/N growled, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment and anger.

"Mmmph!"

"Oh, come on, baby. Don't be like that. Just say the magic word, and I'll give you what you want," Nightwing purred, his fingers lightly tracing the outline of the Omega's covered hole through the spandex pants of his suit, teasing his opening.

Y/N shook his head, refusing to give the Alpha the satisfaction of hearing him beg.

"Okay, if you're not going to cooperate, then I guess I'll just have to stop," Nightwing sighed, pulling his hand away.

"MMMPH!"

"I'm sorry, baby, I still can't understand you," Nightwing teased, his smirk evident in his voice.

Y/N groaned, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and arousal while he just lay his head back against the glass window in defeat. He was so turned on and needy, and the Alpha was just taunting him.

Nightwing, ever the sadistic tease, chuckled at the Omega's frustrated and aroused state, "Oh, Y/N. You have no idea how gratifying this is. I mean, look at the irony of this whole situation. You spent months refusing and resisting me, acting all proud and mighty like you were too good for me. And now, you're sitting here on my lap helpless, filled with my cum, and begging for me to just touch you. It's almost poetic, in a sense. You're not the only one who's curious, Y/N. I've been dreaming for months about what it would be like to have you, and now I finally do. And I'm never letting you go."

Y/N's eyes widened, his heart racing as he listened to the Alpha's words.

"And tonight's only the beginning. We're still working on the smaller details, but our lives together are just starting," Nightwing whispered against the Omega's ear, his lips ghosting over the soft and delicate skin while his hands continued to play with his body, "I can't wait to make you fully mine."

The Omega shivered, his body tingling from the Alpha's words and touch. He couldn't deny that a part of him was excited, but the other part was terrified.

What exactly did the vigilante mean by their lives together? And what smaller details was he vaguely speaking about?

Y/N's mind was racing, his thoughts and emotions swirling in his head. His mind was so unfocused, that he didn't even notice as they broke off from the main road, driving around a small mountainside while approaching a hidden entrance in the cliffside.

"Welcome home, babe," Nightwing muttered into his ear while softly nibbling on the lobe with his teeth before pulling off with a smirk, "Don't worry, we'll christen the car later. Batman won't mind."

Y/N's eyes widened, his body stiffening as the realization hit him.

This was the Batcave.

He was in the Batcave.

Shit.

After the autopilot parked the car and the hatch opened, Nightwing hopped out with Y/N back over his shoulder, the Omega grunting and struggling in the hold as he made his way over to the center console where Batman was waiting for him.

"Nightwing." Y/N's body stilled at the sound of the Dark Knight's voice.

"Batman," Nightwing greeted, his tone cheerful and relaxed.

"You're late."

"Yeah, sorry about that. We had some issues we needed to work through first before we could head back," Nightwing apologized, his tone not sounding apologetic at all.

Y/N rolled his eyes at the vague, but obvious statement, trying to ignore the hand slowly creeping between his thighs. It was already embarrassing enough that his first time meeting Batman started with his lower half basically being on full display as he hung over the acrobat's shoulder, but, Dick clearly had no reservations about his actions.

This man had no shame. Y/N would say it was admirable if it didn't come at his expense.

"I can see that," Batman replied, his gaze looking over the Omega's bound and gagged form, "I assume your mission was a success."

"Yep, and I have the proof right here," Nightwing stated, his hand cupping the Omega's ass, squeezing his cheek.

Y/N jumped, his body jolting in surprise and embarrassment.

"Nightwing, please."

"Sorry, B. I'm just really happy," Nightwing chuckled, his hand moving down from the Omega's rear, and resting between his thighs again.

Y/N had never felt more mortified in his life. If Batman was who he thought he was, then Dick had just groped him not only in front of the Omega's former boss but his own adoptive father.

"I can see that," Batman remarked, his eyes glancing over the Omega once more, "If you're done, I'd like to speak with Shadow."

"Sure, B. I'll leave him in your capable hands," Nightwing agreed, his fingers lightly brushing the Omega's clothed cunt, causing him to squirm.

"Nightwing," Batman warned.

"Sorry, B. I'll be good," Nightwing apologized, his hand moving away from the Omega's nether region before slowly letting him down onto his feet, copping another feel of the smaller male's plump behind in the process.

Y/N jumped at the feel, throwing a heated glare at the Alpha who had a shit-eating grin on his face while turning him to face the Dark Knight. Seriously, did this man not have any shame?

"Alright, baby, I'll leave you in the capable hands of the Bat. Behave yourself," Nightwing ordered, kissing the top of his head, and smacking his ass before walking away.

Yeah, that answer would be a strong no still.

Y/N yelped, his cheeks flushing red as the vigilante walked away, leaving him alone with the Dark Knight.

"Shadow," Batman spoke, his voice low and commanding, "It's good to finally meet you after so long. I trust your trip was uneventful."

Y/N narrowed his eyes, glaring at the man. Was he playing with him? Because if he was, it wasn't funny.

"Normally, I prefer speaking under more hospitable conditions but seeing as you weren't cooperating before, some drastic measures had to be taken," Batman explained, his eyes glancing down at the restraints and gag, "Now, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I'm willing to answer them, but I'm going to need you to listen and follow my instructions. Can you do that?"

Y/N nodded after a moment, his eyes watching the man carefully.

"Good. Now, I'm going to remove the gag, and then I will release you from your binds. However, if you try anything, I will have no choice but to restrain you again. Do you understand?"

Y/N nodded, his body tense and ready to bolt.

"Alright, I'm going to release the gag now."

Y/N watched as the Dark Knight reached out, his gloved hand gently gripping the back of his head, and slowly removing the cloth from his mouth.

"There, is that better?"

Y/N nodded, choosing to remain silent since his throat was dry from his mouth being gagged for such a long period, and since he didn't quite trust himself not to immediately start cursing him and his arrogant son to the 7th circle of hell the moment he opened his mouth.

"Good. Now, I'm going to remove the restraints. Please don't move," Batman instructed, his hands moving to the rope bonds around his wrists, legs, and arms.

Y/N watched as the Dark Knight cut and removed the rope, his eyes darting around the cave, looking for a possible escape route.

"Don't bother. Even if you managed to get past me, you wouldn't make it far," Batman stated, his eyes focused on the task at hand.

Y/N glared, his eyes narrowing at the man.

"I'm not trying to threaten you, Shadow. I'm just trying to make this transition easier for you in any way that I can. It's understandable if you are upset and angry, and I'm not trying to force you into anything, but I hope you'll consider listening to what I have to say."

Y/N looked up at the Dark Knight, his eyes studying the man's expression. He didn't seem to be lying, and his scent nor body language was giving off any signs of deceit. He'd listen, only if it gave him more time to think of a way out of this mess.

"Thank you. Now, I'm sure you have questions, and I'm willing to answer them, but there are some things that need to be discussed first," Batman said, his voice calm and collected, "First, I would like to apologize for the methods used to bring you here. They were not ideal, and I know they were probably not the best first impression, but it was necessary. I'm sure I don't need to inform you of the importance of keeping your identity a secret."

"No, you don't," Y/N answered, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

"Good. Now, I'm sure you're wondering why we brought you here. At first, it was merely to discuss the effects of your presence in Gotham and the impact you've had on the city. While I was impressed, I prefer to have a tight rein on what goes on in this city, and that includes those who protect it and its people," Batman explained, his eyes staring down at the Omega.

"So, what? Are you saying I'm a threat to the city or something?"

"No, not a threat, but a potential liability. You've been running around the city, taking matters into your own hands, and while I admire the effort, it's not safe. There are a lot of dangerous people in this city, and the last thing I want is for someone else to get hurt because of their actions."

"I'm not a child. I can take care of myself," Y/N argued, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm not saying you can't. But, the fact is, you're an Omega, and while you may have a high tolerance, you're still susceptible to the effects of an Alpha's pheromones. Especially when they're using their pheromones to control or manipulate you," Batman countered, his eyes watching the smaller male.

Y/N's fist clenched under his folded arms, "Oh, so because I'm an Omega, I'm not fit to protect this city. Hmm, that's a bit hypocritical of you, Bruce. Considering all the work I did and you signed your name on while I was working for your company," Y/N spat, his anger and frustration getting the better of him.

A moment of silence passed before the Dark Knight moved his hands up, removing the Bat cowl from over his head, revealing his true identity as Bruce Wayne.

"Apologies if I've offended you, but the truth remains as is. You're an exceptional individual, Y/N, and I'm not denying that. But, the fact is, you're an Omega, and there are a lot of Alphas out there who would use that to their advantage. I'm not saying you're incapable, but I am saying that it would be safer if you were under my guidance and direction and had someone watching your back."

"And let me guess, that's where you and the rest of the Bat-family come in," Y/N scoffed, his eyes glaring at the man.

"Yes, and no. The others will be informed, and they'll be available should you ever need their assistance, but the one who will be primarily responsible for you will be Nightwing."

"Excuse me?!"

"Nightwing will be the one who will watch over you and assist you during missions. He'll also be the one who will help you learn and adjust to the new changes and rules that will be put in place," Batman explained, his tone firm and unwavering.

"New changes and rules? What the hell are you talking about?"

"As I mentioned earlier, the main reason we brought you here was to discuss the effects of your presence and how to proceed from here. And in doing so, I'm sure you've noticed that Nightwing, or Dick, has become quite smitten with you," Bruce stated, his eyes staring down at the smaller male.

Y/N's cheeks flushed, his eyes holding his silent fury (and arousal), "Oh, I'm more than aware."

"Good. Then, I'm sure you're also aware of his intentions and desires."

"Unfortunately."

"Then, you'll also be aware of the fact that he's not going to stop until he gets what he wants," Bruce continued, his eyes never leaving the Omega's, "Now, I consider myself to be a simple man. While I'm aware I don't have the most traditional parental relationship, it doesn't make my desire to provide my kids with what makes them happy any less."

"And what exactly does that have to do with me?"

"Everything. Biological or not, Dick is my son, and as his father, it's my job to make sure he's happy. And, while I may not be completely supportive of his methods, I'm not going to be the one that denies him his happiness. So, I'm willing to compromise and allow him to have you."

"Allow him to have me? Excuse me, but I'm not a possession, Mr. Wayne. I'm a person, and no one, not even you or your son, can make decisions for me and my life like some puppetmaster," Y/N growled, his eyes narrowing at the man.

"I'm sorry you see it that way, Y/N. I'm just offering a solution and a chance for us both to get what we want."

"And, what exactly is it that you believe I want, Mr. Wayne?" Y/N asked with a cold glare.

"You want to protect and save the people of Gotham, especially Omegas, and I'm willing to let you, but only if you agree to my terms."

"Which are?"

"For starters, you will no longer be operating as an independent hero. From now on, you will be a part of my team, or "Bat-Family" as you so-called it, and you will report directly to me and the others. You will also be required to undergo training and conditioning, which will include the development of your skills, knowledge, and abilities. This will also include a physical examination and assessment, which will determine the best course of action and regimen for you," Bruce explained, his eyes watching the Omega's reaction.

"You're joking, right? You want me to join the Bat-Family and go through a physical exam and training? Why? What's the point? I've been doing just fine on my own, and I've done more for the Omega population of this city than you and all your little sidekicks combined."

"I'm not denying that. In fact, I'm quite impressed by your work. But, the fact is, you're an Omega, and despite the strength and determination you have, you're still susceptible to the influence and manipulation of an Alpha. Not only that, but you're not the most skilled fighter, and while you have a strong will, you're not the most disciplined."

"Oh, and I suppose you are?"

"How exactly did you end up here again, Y/N?" Bruce asked, though his tone communicated that it was a rhetorical question.

One that had Y/N's cheeks flushing in embarrassment and anger.

"I'm not trying to insult or degrade you, Y/N. I'm just trying to be realistic. You're a smart, talented, and hard-working individual, and I'm not trying to take that away from you. But, the truth is, you're an Omega, and no matter how much you try to deny it, some things will always be out of your control," Bruce stated, his voice calm and rational.

Y/N's nose twitched, his anger rising rapidly. It was ridiculous what this man was even suggesting. And here, the Omega used to have such a higher opinion of the man he used to proudly call his boss. But now, at this moment, all he could say was another barbaric Alpha saw Omegas as nothing but prizes and trophies.

"And your other terms?" Y/N asked, biting down the vile words he wanted to spit out at the man.

"You will be required to live here at my family estate. This will not only allow you to better adhere to the first terms I've laid out, but it will also allow you but it will also allow myself and our family to better support you. It gives you a chance to connect and bond with the others," Bruce answered, carefully observing the Omega and his reactions.

"What about my apartment? My belongings? What happens to all of that?"

"It will remain yours, and you'll still have access to it along with your belongings, which we can have moved here at your request. I would be in charge of your finances, of course. But, I'd be willing to let you return to your position at Wayne Enterprises with a raise to allow you to have your own money, should you wish," Bruce explained.

Looking at the situation as a whole, someone would consider the offer from the Alpha and billionaire as a no-brainer. Getting to live in a mansion rent-free, and having all your expenses taken care of without needing to work? Who wouldn't want that?

Y/N.

While he couldn't deny the appeal of certain terms that Bruce outlined, he knew there was a catch. There had to be if Bruce was willing to lay it out good for him like this.

Y/N poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, something the Playboy Billionaire found somewhat amusing, "I see. And, where exactly does your son come into this? How exactly does that work?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, that will ultimately be up to the two of you. However, I do consider myself a bit of a traditionalist despite any titles attached to my bachelor status," Y/N did his best to not interrupt and comment on the irony of that sentence, "Since you're an unmated Omega. Dick is an unmated Alpha, I wouldn't find it appropriate for the two of you to share a room or bed."

“Excuse me?” Y/N questioned with a tone of malice to his words.

"The final terms are more personal and should be discussed between yourself and Dick. However, the basic gist is that you will be required to spend time with him, with the eventual expectation that you become his mate. The details regarding that are entirely up to the two of you, but the expectation is that you will be his, he will be yours, and you will bear his children," Bruce stated, his expression and tone not showing any signs of deceit or dishonesty.

Y/N's eyes widened, his heart racing as he listened to the man's words, "What kind of drugs are you people on? "Yeah, that's not happening. I'm not some piece of property or a prize to be won nor am I someone's babymaker. I'm a person, and I'm not going to let you, your son, or anyone else dictate my life and tell me what I can or can't do," Y/N snapped, his body trembling with rage.

Bruce gave him a dissatisfied expression, "Then, I'm afraid we're at an impasse. As much as I would love to continue this discussion, I have other matters to attend to. If you're not going to cooperate, then I'll have no choice but to have you restrained again until you can be turned over to the proper authorities," Bruce stated, his tone firm and unwavering.

Y/N's stomach sank, "Are you serious?!"

"Deadly. You're a vigilante, and while I've allowed you to operate in my city, I'm not going to allow you to continue if you refuse to abide by the rules and regulations I've set forth. I'm not asking you to do anything unreasonable, Y/N," Bruce said, his eyes staring down at the Omega.

"No, you're just asking me to give up my freedom and autonomy, and basically become a glorified house-husband and baby factory for your son," Y/N spat, his fists clenched tightly.

"If that's how you feel, then I'm sorry. But, the decision is yours. Either you can agree to the terms and conditions, or you can refuse, and I'll have no choice but to have you sent away," Bruce replied, his tone and expression not changing.

"And what if I say no to either and just stop being Shadow? I go back to my life, even move out of Gotham, and you continue your little operation here with your rat pack, and everyone's happy," Y/N suggested.

"Everyone except my son," Bruce replied, his gaze looking past the Omega and focusing on the acrobat who was leaning against a pillar in the background, watching the scene unfold.

"Your son's a big boy. He'll get over it," Y/N scoffed.

"Maybe, but I doubt he'll ever forgive me. Or you."

Y/N's eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing before his eyes darted behind him, spotting the vigilante standing there, his arms crossed and a dark expression on his face which was much more intimidating with the lack of his domino mask.

His chest spiked with unease and anger at the sight of the acrobat, wanting nothing more than to take his fist across his face repeatedly. Y/N's fingers twitched, his nails digging into the palm of his hand as he glared at the Alpha.

"I'm not asking you to marry him, at least not yet. I'm asking however that you just give him a chance. Save me, him, and yourself a lot of trouble," Bruce suggested, his eyes glancing over at his son.

The room was silent and the air was filled with tension.

"I'll talk. Even if you send me to jail, I'm sure lots of criminals and people would love to know the identities of Gotham's two most famous protectors. They'd probably pay a pretty penny for that information," Y/N threatened, his eyes never leaving the vigilante.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me," Y/N challenged, his eyes narrowing.

"Fine. Then, I guess we're done here. Dick, please escort Shadow to the holding cell," Bruce ordered, his eyes focused on the Omega.

"Sure thing, B," Dick agreed, his tone casual, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

"What?" The Omega questioned, "I thought you said you'd turn me over to the authorities."

"I did. But, since you've threatened me and my family, I'm not going to risk it. So, you'll be locked down here in our holding cell until I figure out something else for you," Bruce explained, his tone and expression not giving away any hint of emotion.

"You can't do that!"

"I can, and I will. Unless you'd like to reconsider, of course. Your choice, Y/N," Bruce stated, his tone and expression not wavering.

Y/N's mind was racing, his heart pounding as he looked between the Dark Knight and the acrobat. His eyes were wide and frantic, his body shaking slightly.

"Fine. I'll do it," Y/N sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Bruce's shoulders relaxed, showing his satisfaction with the Omega's answer while Dick was grinning ear-to-ear, his excitement and happiness evident.

"Good. Now, we'll have to discuss the finer details, but for now, I think it's best if you get some rest. You've had a long day, and I'm sure you're exhausted. We can talk more tomorrow," Bruce stated, his tone and expression softening.

"Okay."

"Dick, please show him to his room and make sure he gets settled in. I'll have Alfred bring him some clothes and toiletries," Bruce instructed, his eyes glancing over at his son.

"Sure thing, B. Come on, baby. Let's get you cleaned up and tucked in," Dick purred, his arm wrapping around the Omega's waist, pulling him close.

"I can walk on my own," Y/N growled, his eyes glaring at the Alpha.

"I'm sure you can, but I'd rather not risk it. Besides, I don't mind carrying you," Dick smirked, his hand moving down the Omega's ass, squeezing the plump flesh.

"Stop touching me," Y/N hissed, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, baby. I haven't even started yet," The Alpha chuckled, his lips ghosting over the shell of the Omega's ear, "But, I promise, I'll be gentle."

Y/N's cheeks flushed red, his body shivering as the Alpha's warm breath tickled his skin.

Before he could move, Y/N found himself back over the Alpha's shoulder, his ass in the air and his face pressed against the vigilante's back.

"Dick," Y/N growled, his fists punching at the Alpha's strong back.

"Don't stay up too long B! See you tomorrow!"

"Goodnight, you two. And, Y/N," Bruce called after the couple, Dick pausing in his strides and turning to the side so they could look back at the older Alpha, "Welcome to the family," Bruce smiled, a tiny one that is.

Y/N's eyes widened, his heart sinking to his stomach.

Dick was grinning even wider, saluting his adoptive father before turning back and continuing his journey out of the cave and up to the manor with the Omega struggling over his shoulder.

"You heard the man. Welcome to the family, babe," Dick said excitedly, his hand firmly gripping the Omega's ass.

"Put me down, asshole," Y/N growled, his hands pushing against the Alpha's back.

"Not a chance, baby," Dick chuckled, his hand smacking the Omega's ass, causing him to yelp.

"Ow! Asshole!"

"Mmm, I can't wait to hear more of those sounds later," Dick purred, his voice low and husky.

"Fuck you."

"Soon, baby. Soon," Dick purred, his fingers lightly tracing the outline of the Omega's cunt through his suit, making him squirm.

"Stop touching me," Y/N growled, his hips pressing closer to the Alpha's hand.

"Mmm, you say that, but your body says otherwise," Dick teased, his finger slowly rubbing the covered slit, his smirk growing when he felt the slick starting to leak through the fabric.

"Fuck you," Y/N hissed, his teeth biting into his lower lip as the Alpha continued to tease him.

"Oh, I plan to, baby. I plan to," The Alpha promised, his hand moving away from the Omega's cunt, and grabbing his ass, squeezing the plump flesh.

Dick hurriedly ran through the manor's halls, heading for a specific destination. One that Y/N noted did not seem to be towards any bedrooms.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere you should remember quite vividly," Dick answered, his grip tightening on the Omega's ass.

"But, Bruce told you to take me to my room," Y/N reminded, though he figured the Alpha was ignoring him.

"He did, and I will. Once we're done," Dick answered, his tone not leaving any room for argument.

"Done with what?"

"This," The acrobat answered as they reached a door.

It was dark in the halls so Y/N couldn't exactly tell where they were, but he couldn't deny the familiarity of the location.

"Where are we?"

"I think you know," Dick answered, his hand reaching out and opening the door.

He swung the door open and switched on the light while keeping his other arm wrapped tightly around the Omega's thighs, right above the bend of his knees. When Y/N could finally see where they were, the realization hit him like a brick and he immediately began struggling to free himself from the Alpha's hold.

"Oh, so you do remember this place. Good," Dick chuckled, his hand squeezing the Omega's ass, "Now, let's have some fun, shall we?"

Dick closed and locked the door to the bathroom before lifting Y/N off his shoulder and placing him against the countertop sink. The same sink he had pressed against when he ambushed the Omega during the gala celebration.

The moment he was down, the Alpha was on him like a lion on a gazelle. He forced the Omega's legs apart, his hands gripping the smaller male's thighs tightly as he leaned forward and captured the Omega's lips in a heated kiss.

"Mmm, fuck, baby. I've been waiting for this for so long," Dick groaned, his lips trailing down from the Omega's lips to his jaw and neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh.

"Dick, stop," Y/N gasped, his hands pushing against the Alpha's broad chest.

"I can't, baby. Not now. Not when you're finally mine," Dick growled, his hands moving from the Omega's thighs to his hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh that was still covered by his vigilante suit.

"I'm not yours," Y/N argued, his hands pushing harder against the Alpha's chest.

"Yes, you are. You've always been mine, and now, I'm going to make sure you know it," Dick growled, his lips capturing the Omega's once again, his tongue slipping into the smaller male's mouth, "Mmm, fuck, baby. You taste so good," The Alpha moaned, his hands moving from the Omega's hips and sliding down his thighs.

"Dick, please... p-please ... please," Y/N begged, his body trembling as the Alpha's hands moved further down his legs, his fingers brushing against the wet patch of his suit.

"Please, what, baby? What do you want?" Dick asked, his lips moving down the Omega's neck, his teeth nibbling and sucking the tender flesh.

"Please, stop," Y/N pleaded, his hands gripping the material of the Alpha's suit, pressing his knuckles into the mounds of his hard pecs. Y/N tried to ignore the way his body was responding to the Alpha's touch, his cunt throbbing and leaking with slick.

"No, not yet. Not until I've had my fill," Dick growled, his hands gripping the Omega's thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"n-nh ... ah ... n-no," Y/N breathed out in stutters, his body trembling as the Alpha's hands moved further down his legs, his fingers brushing against the wet patch of his suit.

"Mmm, fuck, baby. You're so wet. I need to have you," Dick groaned, his lips moving down the smaller neck, his teeth nibbling and sucking the tender flesh while his hands went to work ripping off the Omega's suit.

"H-hey! This suit is custom made you asshole," Y/N snapped, his hands pushing against the Alpha's chest.

"So? It's not like we can't get you a new and better one," Dick replied, his hands tearing the material apart, revealing the Omega's bare chest and leaking nipples.

"You're a fucking prick," Y/N growled.

"And, you're a brat. Now, stop fighting and just enjoy yourself," Dick ordered, licking his lips at the sight of the Omega's chest before leaning down and capturing one of the hardened buds in his mouth.

"Ahh... ahh," Y/N moaned, his hands gripping the Alpha's shoulders tightly as the vigilante sucked and licked his nipple, his teeth lightly grazing the sensitive flesh.

"Mmm, fuck, baby. You taste so good," Dick groaned, his hands running down the Omega's stomach and sides, landing at his waist.

"A-ah, fuck ... !" Y/N's body arched up as he was positioned on the sink by the Alpha so he could rut his body into the Omega's pulsing and wet heat.

"Fuck, baby. You're so wet. I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock," Dick growled, his hands moving to the Omega's ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"You—f-fuck... Y-You already had me around your cock earlier, remember?" Y/N said, keeping his eyes closed, cause the hot sight of the Alpha towering over him in his vigilante suit and his muscles on display under the tight material was too much for him.

"Yeah, I did, but that was just a preview. Now, I'm going to show you how a real Alpha takes care of his Omega," Dick growled, his hands returning to the tear over the Omega's stomach, his fingers ripping the fabric apart until the suit was in tatters, his body on full display under him like a trophy.

"Fuck, baby. You're so beautiful," Dick groaned, his hands running over the Omega's body, his fingers tracing the curves and dips of the smaller male's form.

"Shut up," Y/N growled, trying to cover himself from the Alpha's prying eyes.

"Stop that. Don't hide from me, baby. I wanna see all of you," Dick growled, his hands grabbing the Omega's wrists and pinning them above his head.

"D-Dick," Y/N moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as the Alpha leaned down and began sucking and biting his neck, his hands keeping his arms pinned above his head.

"Shhh, baby. Let me take care of you," Dick whispered, his lips leaving a kiss on the Omega's swollen and red ones as he moved down his body, bringing his hands with them, "Leave these here," the vigilante commanded, his hands giving the smaller wrist a gentle squeeze.

"F-fuck you," Y/N whined, but he did as he was told.

The Alpha smiled at the obedience from his Omega, his lips continuing their trail down the smaller male's chest and stomach, his teeth nipping and teasing the sensitive skin.

"Mmm, fuck, baby. You're so sexy," Dick moaned, his tongue swirling around the Omega's belly button, his teeth biting and tugging on the skin, "I can't wait to put a baby in you."

Y/N's face turned a deep shade of crimson, his hands clenching into fists as the Alpha's words hit him like a freight train, "S-shut up. Don't say things like that," Y/N stuttered, his body trembling under the Alpha's touch.

"Why not, baby? It's true," Dick whispered, his lips moving down the Omega's body, his tongue licking the wet trail his lips had left, "Mmm, I bet your cute little cunt is going to look so good filled with my knot," The Alpha growled, his hands moving to the Omega's hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"F-fuck, Dick...," Y/N moaned, his head falling back against the mirror as the Alpha's hands trailed down his body, his fingers brushing against the soaked folds.

"Mmm, yeah, baby. That's it. Let me hear you," Dick growled, his lips kissing and sucking the inside of the Omega's thighs, his teeth nibbling and biting the sensitive skin, "Mmm, fuck, baby. You're so wet. I can't wait to bury myself deep inside you," His tongue traced around the Omega's entrance, his nose breathing in the sweet and musky scent of the slick, "You smell so good, baby."

"D-Dick... a-ahh... n-ngh," Y/N's body was shaking as the Alpha's mouth was doing wonders on his lower half, his tongue lapping and slurping up the thick juices coming from his core.

"Fuck, baby. You taste so good," Dick moaned, his fingers moving from the Omega's thighs and spreading his glistening cunt, his tongue sliding between the damp insides, "Mmm, fuck. You're so wet," Dick groaned, his tongue thrusting in and out of the small hole, his hands gripping the smaller male's legs.

"F-fuck... a-aah... a-ahh... D-Dick," Y/N cried, his back arching off the cool porcelain counter, his legs wrapping around the Alpha's head, his heels digging into his strong shoulder blades.

"Yeah, baby. Say my name. Tell everyone who's making you feel this good," Dick growled, his mouth attacking the Omega's cunt, his tongue lapping and slurping up the thick fluids.

"F-fuck, Dick... a-aahhh, f-fuck, oh god, yes. Please...," Y/N moaned, his hips rolling against the Alpha's mouth, his legs squeezing his head tighter, "F-fuck, I-I'm gonna...," the Omega's head fell back against the mirror, his eyes closed tightly, his body trembling.

"That's it, baby. Cum for me," Dick purred, his tongue darting into the wet cavern, his hands squeezing the Omega's thighs.

"f-fuck ... oh god ... !"

Y/N's eyes shot open, his body tensing as he felt the Alpha's mouth sucking his nub, "O-oh, oh my god," Y/N whined, biting his lip pathetically as his back arched off the porcelain countertop, his hands flying down to grip the back of his neck and his shoulders.

Dick turned stern eyes up the Omega while lapping up the slick around his mouth, "I thought I told you to keep your hands against the mirror, baby," the Alpha's tone was low and threatening.

"I-It was a reflex" Y/N's voice shook as he looked down at the Alpha, his body trembling, his chest heaving.

"Oh, yeah. Well, guess we're going to have to work on your obedience, then, aren't we?" Dick smirked, his tongue flicking out, collecting the remaining slick around his mouth, his fingers rubbing against the Omega's twitching hole.

Dick stood back up, grabbing Y/N and pulling him off the counter before turning him around and pressing his back toward his front. His large hand gripped the smaller male's jaw, forcing the Omega to look into the mirror in front of him, his insides jumping at the sight of the size difference between himself and the Alpha.

"Look at you, baby. So fucking gorgeous. Just begging to be bred and knotted," Dick purred, his hand cupping the Omega's throat, his lips trailing down his neck, "I'm going to breed you so good, baby. Fill you with my seed, watch you swell and round with my babies" Dick groaned, his other hand slipping between the Omega's legs, his fingers rubbing the wet slit.

"But first, we're going to teach you some self-control," Dick whispered, his fingers sliding through the Omega's wet heat, his thumb circling the swollen nub, causing the smaller male to squirm.

"F-fuck, Dick..."

"I want you to hold still. No matter what I do, no matter how badly you want to move or touch me, don't. Got it, baby?" Dick purred, his teeth nibbling on the shell of the Omega's ear.

"O-okay," Y/N breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Good boy," Dick cooed, his hand jerking and squeezing his head up as the other player with his damp entrance, "Now, watch and learn, baby."

"W-watch what?"

"This," the Alpha grinned wickedly.

All of sudden, Y/N felt himself get stuffed with two long digits, his body jerking in reflex as his hands flew to grip the Alpha's strong body.

"Ah, what did I say?" Dick grunted, jerking his head up with his hand while pushing his fingers even harder inside him.

"T-to stay still," Y/N whined, his head rolling back onto the broad shoulder, his hips grinding back into the Alpha's crotch.

"And you're still not listening baby," Dick hissed, his fingers thrusting in and out of the smaller male's cunt.

"I-I can't help it," Y/N whimpered, his hands gripping the Alpha's forearms.

"Oh, really? What if I told you that the longer you do this, the longer it will take before you can cum again. That you need to focus and listen, or you're going to have to go without an orgasm," Dick purred, his thumb circling the Omega's cocklette with his thumb, his teeth nibbling the shell of his ear while staring into the Omega's eyes through the mirror.

"O-oh," Y/N's voice came out more like a gasp as the Alpha's fingers continued to stretch and rub his insides, his body trembling and twitching.

"You think you can handle that, baby?"

"Mmm, f-fuck... n-no."

"Oh, so I guess I'll just stop," Dick stated, beginning to pull his hand away, a string of slick connecting his digits.

"No, wait. Please," Y/N cried, squeezing his hands against the Alpha's forearm still holding his jaw.

"I'm sorry, what did you say, baby?" Dick chuckled, his finger ghosting along the edge of the Omega's entrance, his free hand moving from his chin and cupping the front of his throat.

"P-please. Don't stop," Y/N begged, his back arching as the Alpha's hands resumed their previous activities.

"Then take your hands off me, keep them at your sides, and hold still," Dick ordered, his fingers plunging into the smaller male's core, his other hand squeezing his throat gently.

"H-haaah! F-fuck!" Y/N nodded, his hands falling back to his sides, his fingers digging into his thigh, his eyes closing in pleasure.

"Keep those eyes open and looking at yourself. Watch every move I make, and if you can't, I'll stop," Dick growled, his hand pumping in and out of the tight channel, his palm rubbing the Omega's throbbing cocklette.

"A-aah, okay," Y/N gasped, his body shuddering as the Alpha's fingers continued to pound into his cunt, his thumb circling the sensitive nub, "A-aah, oh fuck."

"Good boy. You're being such a good boy, taking my fingers so well. Think you can take a third one?"

"Y-yes, please. Yes," Y/N whimpered, his hips rocking back against the Alpha's palm, his fingers sinking into his ass, "M-more."

"Keep still," Dick warned, his fingers slowing down, his third digit teasing the rim, "Relax, baby."

"S-sorry," Y/N mumbled, his muscles relaxing, allowing the Alpha to push his third finger into his already stuffed hole.

"Fuck, baby. You're so tight. And, hot," Dick groaned, his hand turning the Omega's head towards him so he could capture his lips in a heated kiss, his tongue tangling with the smaller man’s while his fingers pumped in and out of the dripping entrance.

"A-ah, f-fuck," Y/N whined against Dick's lips, his nails scratching the insides of his palms as he did his best to hold his body still, wanting nothing more than to achieve his release.

"Are you getting close, baby? Are you going to cum soon?" Dick whispered against Y/N's mouth, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling on it.

"Mmm, f-fuck, a-aahh," Y/N nodded, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, his hands clenching hard into fists.

"What's wrong, baby? Can't speak? Is my baby overwhelmed? Hmmm, maybe you'd like me to stop," Dick teased, his fingers slowing their pace, his thumb ceasing the pressure on the Omega's aching core.

"N-no! Fuck, please, don't stop. I-I'm going to...," Y/N moaned, his eyes shutting as the Alpha's hands slowed, his body trembling.

"Eyes, baby," Dick reminded, his lips trailing down to the side of the Omega's neck, his teeth nibbling and sucking the tender flesh.

Y/N quickly obeyed, his eyes shooting open and focusing back on the two figures in the mirror. He bit his lip hard, his hips rocking and grinding, trying desperately to bring his release.

"A-ah, f-fuck," Y/N breathed heavily, his back arching, his head leaning back onto the Alpha's broad shoulder.

"Look at you. Such a pretty little slut," Dick cooed, his finger's movements becoming more intense, his lips leaving kisses and bites along the Omega's exposed neck.

"A-ah, h-haaa, o-oh god," Y/N cried, his back arching further, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, and his hands balled into tight fists.

"Yes, baby. Cum for me. Show me how much you like my fingers, how much you like the way I finger you," Dick groaned, his fingers curling and thrusting deeper inside the smaller male, his thumb pressing harder against his cocklette.

"Fuck, baby. You're so tight and hot. I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock," Dick rumbled, his hand releasing the Omega's throat, moving to cup his chest and twist and squeeze his nipple, "Mmm, I can't wait to see these things full, feeding our babies."

"F-fuck... y-you're... n-not going to knock me u-up," Y/N growled, his back arching, his ass grinding and rolling back into the Alpha's front, his nails breaking the skin on his palms.

"We'll see about that, baby. I'll bet you're already so fertile. And, when I'm done, you'll have no choice but to carry and give birth to all the babies I put inside you," Dick purred, his fingers twisting and rubbing the smaller male's nipple.

"O-oh, oh fuck. Mmm, fuck," Y/N breathed out, his body shaking and trembling, his nails now scratching at his thighs.

"That's right, baby. Cum. Cum for me. Show me how much you love my fingers fucking you," Dick cooed, his thumb pressing hard against the Omega's aching nub, his fingers twisting and pumping inside his tight channel.

"A-ah, h-haaa... f-fuuuuck," Y/N whined, his head falling back onto the Alpha's shoulder, his back arched and his chest heaving.

"Yes, baby. Let go. Cum for me. Cum," Dick whispered, his lips leaving kisses and bites along the smaller's male's jaw and neck, his hand pinching and squeezing his hardened bud.

"H-ha, ahh... !"

The Omega's vision blurred and his hearing became muffled. His body convulsed and spasmed, his hips buckling wildly, barely managing to keep his eyes open as he climax splashed onto the floor below, his thighs and Dick's fingers covered in slick.

"Fuck, baby. You're so beautiful," Dick purred, his fingers pumping the Omega through his orgasm.

"A-ah, f-fuck," Y/N panted, his chest heaving and his hips twitching.

"You did so good, baby. Such a good boy, listening and obeying," Dick praised, his lips leaving a kiss where his mark would go on the Omega's neck, his hands moving to his hips, pulling the smaller male closer, his hard bulge rubbing against his bare ass.

"M-mmm," Y/N whimpered, his body still twitching and shivering.

"Now, be a good boy and turn around," Dick instructed, his hands giving the smaller male a light squeeze.

Y/N turned, his legs shaking, his heart pounding. The vigilante wasted no time grabbing his hips, hoisting him up, and sitting him on the countertop.

"Put your hands on the sink, spread your legs, and don't move," Dick instructed, his eyes burning into the Omega's, his fingers tracing the shape of his slick-covered hole.

Y/N did as he was told, his body trembling as the Alpha's eyes looked him over, a wicked smirk appearing on his face.

"So pretty, all spread out and ready for me," Dick cooed, his large hands spreading the smaller male's thighs apart, his eyes raking over his glistening slit, his cocklette still pulsing, his hole winking, "You look so good, baby. So sexy."

Suddenly, the bathroom was filled with a deep and musky scent, it sending Y/N into a pleasurable spasm as his eyes went wide at the smell, "O-ohh, fuck ... ! Alpha!"

Dick smirked at the Omega, writhing and begging for him on the counter, realizing what was happening. "Looks like I started pouring, baby. Couldn't help it though, you're just so sexy."

The acrobat pulled the smaller male to the edge, his knees resting on the Alpha's hips.

"Dick, please, I can't—," Y/N begged, his mind a scrambled mess from the Alpha's pheromones clouding every brain cell in his head.

"Shhh, baby. I've got you," Dick soothed, his hands gripping the smaller male's thighs and pulling him against his crotch.

"get inside of me ... now ..." Y/N whined, his chest rising and falling, his cunt gushing even more slick and his nipples leaking even more cream, his body begging to be fucked.

"Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?"

"p-please ... please give it to me ... " Y/N whimpered, his hips squirming, trying to get some form of friction, "I need you. I need your knot."

"As much as I love hearing you beg, and I do, you have been quite a handful today," Dick's voice dropped, his grip on the Omega's thighs becoming painful, "Maybe you're not worth the effort. Maybe I should find someone else, a proper Omega who knows how to listen," the Alpha threatened, his fingers digging into the soft, yielding flesh.

"No! Please, no. I-I'm sorry, please. I'm sorry," Y/N pleaded, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his arms threatening to give out, "I-I'll be good. I'll listen."

"And, why should I believe you, baby?" Dick chuckled, his thumbs lightly brushing the underside of the smaller male's supple, thick thighs, his fingers still digging into the plush, warm flesh.

"I'll be good, I promise. I'll be your good Omega, let you fuck me, mark me all you want, give you lots of babies, and do whatever you say," Y/N whimpered, his chest heaving, his nipples and cunt aching, his legs trembling.

"Oh, and you're going to listen, aren't you?" Dick teased, his fingers trailing along the inside of the Omega's quivering thighs, his thumbs ghosting over his swollen and dripping core.

"y-yes. whatever you want!" Y/N whined, his hands clawing at the counter, his legs shaking, his eyes locked onto the Alpha's, his hips rocking, spreading his legs even more to get the Alpha to fuck him.

"Such a good, little Omega," Dick growled before working to remove his suit, Y/N watching in anticipation, his heart racing.

When his suit was fully off, his length throbbing and standing at attention, he lined himself up with the Omega's leaking entrance, the head of his cock teasing the twitching hole, his fingers spreading the wet folds.

"Please, Dick, no teasing," Y/N whined, his chest rising and falling as he felt the tip of the Alpha's cock tease his entrance, his body screaming for him to fill him and take him.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna give you what you want," Dick cooed, his free hand cupping the back of the Omega's head, his lips capturing the smaller man's in a heated kiss, "But first..."

Dick grabbed something on the side of them, holding it up as he kept rubbing his length over the Omega's throbbing cunt. When he held it up for Y/N to see, the Omega felt his chest almost seize up.

"Remember this," Dick held up the candle holder Y/N used against the Alpha's head when he had him pinned in here the last time, "Answer me," The Alpha's tone was dangerous.

"Yes, I remember," Y/N's voice was small, his entire body on edge and trembling.

"Good. You remember what you did with this the last time we were in here?" Dick asked with an angry fire in his eyes.

"Yes,"

"Say it."

"I knocked you over the head with the candle holder,"

"Correct," Dick replied, "Now, say you're sorry."

"What?!"

"You heard me. Apologize for knocking me over the head with this, and I'll fuck you and let you cum. And if you don't, I'm not going to fuck you. I'll leave you here and have Alfred show you your room."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Very," Dick nodded, the anger in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Okay, okay. Sorry," Y/N muttered.

"Excuse me?" Dick said, his eyebrows raised, "You'll have to speak up."

"Sorry,"

"Sorry, what? Try again," Dick ordered.

"I knocked you over the head with a candle holder."

“I hear an acknowledgment, not an apology.”

"Ugh, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, for knocking you over the head with the candle holder," Y/N whined, his entire body feeling like a livewire.

"Good, good. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Dick smiled, his hand gently stroking the Omega's hair, "Now, apologize for denying and rejecting me."

"Dick," Y/N growled, his fingers clenching into fists.

"If you want me to fuck you, apologize. If you don't, we can call it a night, and you can go to your room without my knot," Dick warned, his eyes locking onto the Omega's, "Your choice."

Y/N clenched his teeth, his eyes glaring at the Alpha. He didn't want to apologize, didn't think he had any reason to.

But, his body was aching and throbbing, his chest was leaking, his cunt was soaked and aching, his cocklette was throbbing.

"Fine," Y/N finally agreed.

"Apologize, then," Dick stated, his gaze not wavering.

"f-fuck, fine. Fine, I'm sorry, alright?! I'm sorry," Y/N snarled, his knuckles turning white.

"Good, and I forgive you," Dick's leaned down, his naked, muscled covering the Omega's as he delivered a fiery kiss onto his lips, his tongue dominating the smaller male's mouth.

Y/N melted into the kiss, his arms wrapping around the larger man's neck, his nails scraping along his shoulder blades feeling the hot skin of the Alpha under his fingers while his legs wrapped around the larger man's waist.

Dick's hand slipped between them, taking his cock in his hand and lining it up with the Omega's entrance, his lips never leaving the smaller man's, his tongue tangling and fighting against the Omega's.

Y/N groaned and moaned, his hips rolling and grinding into the Alpha's, his cunt already starting to drool even more slick, his chest heaving.

Dick broke the kiss, a line of saliva connecting their lips, his breath mingling with the Omega's, his eyes locked onto the smaller man's, "I'm not going to be gentle, and you better not fight me, or I'll make sure you won't walk for a week."

"n-nh ... ah ..." Y/N shuddered, the heat of the Alpha's body was making him dizzy while his pheromones from his pouring were making him lightheaded.

"That's right, baby. Fuck," Dick purred, his hips thrusting forward, the head of his cock sliding through the Omega's wet slit and popping into his tight, dripping, hot hole, "Fuck, you're so tight. You feel fucking amazing," the Alpha rumbled, his cock pushing deeper into the smaller male's channel, his eyes trained on the Omega's.

"h-haaah! f-fuck ... oh god ... !" Y/N's nails dug into the larger man's skin, his chest heaving and his thighs clenching, his legs and toes curling as the Alpha's cock pushed deep inside him, stretching and filling him, "A-ah, o-oh fuck, s-so big."

"Mmm, fuck, don’t you dare fucking move..." Dick moaned, his hips pushing forward until he was buried inside the smaller male's core, his shaft coated with slick and his walls tightly clinging to his length, his hands squeezing the Omega's soft thighs, "God, baby, you're so fucking hot and tight. Even better the second time."

"S-shut up," Y/N hissed, his back arching, his fingers and nails scratching and digging into the larger man's shoulders.

"Aw, does that mean I wasn't good enough for you last time, baby?" Dick teased, his nose and lips brushing against the smaller male's, his tongue running along his bottom lip.

"S-stop teasing me and f-fuck me already," Y/N breathed, his chest rising and falling as he looked into the Alpha's burning blue eyes.

"So, needy," Dick cooed, his fingers gripping the smaller male's thighs, his hips snapping forward, his cock pulling out until only the tip was inside the Omega's quivering entrance.

"H-aaah, o-oh fuck... a-ah,"

Without warning, Dick thrust back inside the Omega, his pace quickening and his thrusts becoming more brutal, the sounds of skin slapping and moans filled the bathroom, the mirror fogging up and the cabinets under the sink rattling.

"Fuck, baby, your cunt is just sucking me in. Mmm, fuck, you're perfect," Dick moaned, his hips pounding and bucking, his balls slapping against the smaller male's ass, his cock hitting his G-spot with each thrust.

Dick was a merciless fuck.

Appearances really were deceiving, as Y/N thought about any person who thought of Dick as a lighthearted, gentle person. This motherfucker could be a cruel villain when he wanted to be, especially when it came to the down and dirty.

He had Y/N's arms wrapped around his sweaty back and his legs around his waist like a child holding on to a parent while he rammed into his body. His fingers dug into the smaller male's thighs and ass, his nails leaving scratches and bruises on his hips and back, and his teeth sunk into his skin, marking him with hickeys, bites, and bruises.

Y/N could already feel his legs and bottom becoming sore from the Alpha's harsh treatment of his body, but the pleasure of being stuffed and taken was making him feel a high he didn't want to come down from.

"F-fuck, Dick," the Omega whined, his nails digging and scratching the Alpha's skin, his heels pressing hard into the bigger man's lower back right about his butt.

"Mmm, yeah, baby. That's it. Say my name," Dick growled, his hips pistoning, his balls slapping against the Omega's ass.

"O-oh, fuck Dick... y-your so big," Y/N moaned, his body arching into the acrobat's sweaty chest

"Yeah, baby. Take all of it. Feel me stretching you, stuffing you, claiming you," Dick hissed, his tongue licking and lapping at the smaller male's ear, his teeth nibbling the shell.

"I-it's too much. You're too big. h-haaah! o-ohh, FUCK ... !" Y/N cried, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his nails digging into the skin on the larger man's muscled back, his teeth sinking into the meaty flesh of his neck.

"Aww, baby, do you want me to stop, pull out?" Dick asked, his hips stilling, his cock resting inside the smaller male's fluttering channel, the tip of his cockhead brushing against the Omega's sweet spot, his hands gripping his ass.

"w-wha—? n-no! please, keep going," Y/N begged his cunt twitching, his nipples aching, his body desperate for release.

"Then beg. Beg for it. Tell me how badly you want my knot, how badly you want me to breed you," Dick purred, his lips peppering kisses and love bites along the Omega's throat, his teeth tugging and nibbling his earlobe.

"P-please, Dick, I-I can't ... please, I need you," Y/N pleaded, his arms tightening around the Alpha's sweaty body, his nails digging and scratching the larger man's broad shoulders.

"Need me to do what, baby?" Dick teased, his hips slowly grinding and rolling, his length massaging the Omega's walls, his lips and tongue leaving kisses and bites on his jaw.

"F-fuck, Dick. P-please, knot me. f-fuck ... god ... !" Y/N wailed, his nails dragging and scratching the large man's back, his body writhing and twitching, his legs wrapping tighter around his waist, his feet digging into his ass.

"Who's Omega are you?" Dick grunted, his hips bucking, his length pumping in and out of the smaller man's gushing and twitching entrance.

"y-you're! f-fuck ... a-ah ... yours. I'm your Omega," Y/N cried, his chest rising and falling as he clung to the Alpha's larger body, his hands clawing and grasping at his muscled back.

"What else?" Dick asked, his thrusts becoming faster and harder, his hips slamming and pounding, his balls slapping and hitting the Omega's ass.

"I-I belong t-to you, a-and no one e-else," Y/N whimpered, his head dropping to the Alpha's broad shoulder, his hands sliding down to grip his strong biceps, his chest heaving.

"Tell me, baby, will you ever deny or reject me again?" Dick demanded, his tone serious, grabbing the Omega's jaw again and forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Never," Y/N answered immediately, his body shaking.

"And, why not?"

"Because I'm your Omega, and only yours. No one else's," the smaller male replied, his heart hammering and his stomach twisting.

"Good, good. Now, tell me who I am," Dick growled, his hips picking up speed, his cock slamming into the Omega's twitching and spasming entrance.

"Y-you're my Alpha, the only Alpha I will ever take, the only Alpha that can knot and breed me," Y/N moaned, his head dropping back, his body jerking and trembling.

"And, who am I going to breed and claim? Who am I going to mark and put a bond on?"

"M-me, fuck, me, please," Y/N cried, his entire body on edge and ready to snap.

"Are you mine, baby?"

"Y-yes! yes, Dick, I'm yours,"

"And, are you going to be my perfect little Omega, let me do whatever I want to you, let me mark and fill you with my seed whenever and wherever I want, carry my babies, and give me a family."

"Yes, o-ohh FUCK yes!"

Dick's thrusts increased in speed, his rhythm faltering as his knot began to form.

"You're gonna take my last name, aren't you, baby? You're going to be mine, and only mine,"

"Y-yes. oh, god, y-yes," Y/N cried, his body trembling and his cunt dripping, his cocklette pulsing and aching, his chest leaking.

"Y/N Grayson, mmm, sounds so fucking good, baby," Dick groaned, his hips bucking and jerking, his knot getting larger.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, FUCK," Y/N screamed, his head thrown back and his body arching, his eyes shut tightly as his vision went white, his orgasm splashing and coating their fronts.

"Oh, fuck, baby. Yes, cum, milk me," Dick ordered, his hips pistoning, his cock ramming and rubbing the smaller male's walls, his balls slapping against his ass, "Fuck, you feel so good. Such a good boy. Take it, take my knot. Fuck."

"f-fuck ... god ...! O-OHH, FUCK!"

"That's right, baby. Let me fill you. Make you mine," Dick snarled, his hips slamming and bucking, his hands grabbing the Omega's thighs and lifting them up, his lips sucking and biting his nipples, "Mine, my mate, my Omega, MY Y/N."

"F-fuck, p-please ... !"

"Gonna claim and breed you, baby. Give you a big, fat, happy, round belly,"

"O-oh, Dick. D-DICK, PLEASE," Y/N moaned, his chest arching, his nipples and cunt throbbing, his stomach flipping, and his cocklette twitching.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you, baby?" His knot was right there...

"Y-yes, please," Y/N sobbed, his head bobbing, his hair flopping in his face.

"Yes, what, baby? Yes, what,"

"Make me yours, fuck me, breed me, mark me, claim me, make me your Omega,"

"Say my name, baby. Who do you belong to?"

"You. f-FUCK. You, Dick. I belong to you Dick."

"That's right. All mine, baby, only mine," Dick's hips started moving again, his knot popping in and out of the smaller male's soaked hole.

A few thrusts later and Dick was letting out a guttural roar as his knot finally popped and locked the two of them together, his seed painting the smaller male's walls.

The Alpha groaned, feeling his cock throb inside the walls of his Omega as he leaned down, capturing the exhausted male in a sweaty and tired kiss as he pumped him full of his seed. When they broke the kiss, both of them breathing heavily and covered in sweat and cum, Dick smiled, cupping the smaller male's cheek and looking into his eyes, his own shining with pride and adoration.

"You were so amazing, baby. You did so well, Y/N," He whispered, his thumb stroking the side of the smaller male's face, his hand running through his hair, "You'll see, soon. You're gonna love me, and we'll have a beautiful life together. I'll teach you to love me."

His face fell into the Omega's neck, leaving small kisses along the bruises, especially over where his scent gland, where his mating mark would go, "You'll see. Soon, you'll be mine," The Alpha muttered into his skin.

Y/N rubbed his hands up and down the sweaty back of the Alpha, his eyes opening in narrow slits as he looked past the up and down rising back of the man on top of him, a firm resolution in his mind.

'We'll see about that.'

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

🌓 | Part 3 | 🌓

🌙 | Nightwing & Shadow | 🌙 (this image was genrated by Bing AI)

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toomuchracket · 2 months

Text

pool party (d word matty x reader fluff/smut)

day 21 of summer75, and today we have a fun little look at the reality of these fuckers' relationship before anybody knew they were a thing (aka, the one where they're both horny but can't fuck without being suspicious or caught). enjoy <3

you: do u like black or lilac better

matty 😚: in what context?

you roll your eyes, quickly firing back a reply. just pick a colour, babe

matty 😚: lilac

you: thank u <3 i'll meet you all in a min

matty 😚: hurry up please i miss u

you: will do, lover

chucking your phone into your beach bag, you giggle to yourself as you slip into a lilac bikini and sandals. there's a fading hickey the same colour as your swimsuit just under your jaw, you notice as you fix your hair in the mirror, but you don't bother trying to cover it up - hopefully, in wearing your secret boyfriend's favourite colour to a pool party where he cannot touch you at all, you’ll get more of them later.

judging by matty’s expression when you waltz out of the villa to the pool a few minutes later, more marks are a certainty tonight. you spot him as soon as you step outside, lazing insouciantly on a sunlounger, hair dripping wet and body shimmering in the sunshine, and for the briefest of moments you feel truly distraught that you can't just go and drape yourself over him, let his hand find its way to your arse as it does whenever you cuddle up to him. but the feeling passes in favour of exhilarated glee when you notice his jaw drop at the sight of you, a feeling that grows when he slides his sunglasses up to let his eyes trail better over your body. you wink at him, and he smirks, putting his glasses back on when your attention is taken by john asking if you want a drink, to which you eagerly respond in the affirmative.

all in all, you don't actually end up anywhere near matty for about an hour, preoccupied with chatting to your friends, taking pictures with the girls, eating your way through the massive fruit salad adam decided to make “so nobody gets too pissed because they haven't eaten anything”; only after that do you strategically go to sit on the edge of the pool near where your boyfriend and george are splashing each other and laughing like kids, dangling your legs in the warm water while you light up a cigarette and sip at your pornstar martini.

as soon as you exhale your first drag, george seems to materialise in the water front of you, matty trailing behind him (and looking at you like you're a three course meal). “my good friend,” he begins, all gravel drawl and grin. “might i perhaps have one of those cigarettes, please?”

“christ, you're like a bloodhound. here,” you pull the pack and lighter from your bag, setting them down beside you. as george pulls himself out of the pool to sit next to you and light up, you turn to your boyfriend. “you having one?”

matty shakes his head, eyes never leaving your body. “s'not what i want right now, darling.”

“no? alright,” you take another drag, spreading your legs slightly to give him a better look at what he does want while you sip your drink. “want a taste?”

his eyes widen, flicking up to yours in disbelief. “hmm?”

you wave your glass at him, face as saccharine as your cocktail. “of the drink.”

“oh, i- no, thank you,” matty shakes his head. “sorry. blanked for a second there.”

george scoffs. “matty, you fucking perv, she didn't mean it like that,” he turns to you while matty splutters out a response of some kind. “sorry about him, mate. doesn't know how to act around attractive women anymore cos he hasn't gotten any in so long,” he laughs, smirking when he notices the mark on your neck. “but apparently you have! good for you. i trust it was decent?”

you're acutely aware of matty, completely still in the water while he waits for you to answer - you smirk, deciding to fuck with him a little. “well, to be honest, george,” you stub out your cigarette, pausing dramatically. “it was mid.”

matty snorts, squinting at you - disbelieving, but to anyone else it would look like he's just affected by the sun - while george cackles. “was it anyone we know?”

“well, a lady never tells,” you smile, turning to your boyfriend. “matty, if i get in the pool, will you carry me? don't wanna get my hair wet.”

he rolls his eyes. “you're such a princess. get in here.”

giggling at the nickname, you down the rest of your drink. “bye, george. don't smoke all my fags!”

“i won't!”

“you better not! right,” you slide into the water, wrapping your limbs around matty and beaming when he grabs your arse and starts to walk towards the centre of the pool. “hiya.”

“afternoon. you comfy?”

“yeah… wait, just let me,” you wriggle around a little in his grasp, accidentally-on-purpose pushing your boobs into his face for a second before looking at him with a shit-eating grin. “oopsies.”

“you're lucky i can't spank you underwater, you know,” matty smirks, walking the two of you further from the rest of your friends. “for that, and for that fucking mid comment earlier. mid? me making you squirt on my dick was mid?”

you whimper at the memory, clit tingling as you recall the five consecutive orgasms you made it through, before it all got too much to bear and you soaked your boyfriend, much to his delight. “no, daddy, m'sorry,” you tuck your face into his neck, softly kissing it. “was a bad joke. loved it, really,” you move to whisper in his ear. “love you.”

matty's whole demeanour changes - he softens, attitude melting away to reveal the sweetheart you know and love so much. “s'alright, princess, i love you too,” he turns to kiss your head before pulling back to smile at you. “my beautiful girl, in my favourite colour. that was sweet of you to ask, baby.”

“just wanted to turn you on, really.”

he laughs. “well, you've done that, sweetheart,” he pulls your bottom half closer into his. “feel how fucking hard you've got me?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “shit, i wish you could fuck me right now.”

“same,” he rests his head on your shoulder. “d'you think we're being too obvious, by the way? like… you clinging to me?”

“every single person here saw you do a tequila shot from between my tits a month before we were even together, so…” you giggle, hugging him tighter when he laughs too. “i think we're good.”

“s'pose,” matty turns his head towards the rest of your friends, where ross is yelling something about ordering dinner. he sighs. “we'd better go and see them, yeah?”

“might as well,” you reply glumly, sighing dramatically as matty carries you through the water. “guess i'll just have to have sex with you in a pool some other time.”

“oh, believe me, darling, i'll do everything i can to make that happen,” he kisses your head, the final brush of his lips on your skin before you run the risk of being caught. “tonight, though, i do have that massive bath in my room, if you like…”

“absolutely. i'll be there at eight.”

“looking forward to it, princess.”

#summer75 #mads muses #mads does writing #d word matty #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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imagineitdearies · 3 months

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~ A Flawed Eternity ~

(AKA drabbles set in the Perfect Slaughter universe.)

In which Astarion has a moment during the horrors of Chapter 30. Content warning for SA.

Astarion loved when Tyrus touched him. With rare exceptions—days he could barely tolerate the feel of his own skin, much less that of another—he otherwise felt perpetually starved for any and all of it. Tyrus’s knee resting against his, his head on his chest, his hands tracing or gripping nearly any part of Astarion’s body. Astarion loved the feel of Tyrus’s lips in particular, so soft and fleeting, though on more occasions of late firmer, bolder. Passionate.

He loved having Tyrus under him, sweet and affectionate and welcoming him in. Often, he felt as if he’d captured something impossibly precious—something worth caring for.

But right now, all Astarion felt as Tyrus touched him was a nauseous sort of disgust.

He kept his body still anyway and allowed it. What other option was there? Make Tyrus’s commands harder to obey in a childish fit? Or worse, aggravate the monster behind them until he commanded something worse? Perhaps the latter had been an option—before Tyrus arrived.

Give me your mouth . . . Astarion tensed further as the same beautiful mouth traveled down his jaw now, the one he’d exposed to these sorts of intimacies and taught how to kiss. In effect, making Tyrus an even more vulnerable target to Cazador’s attentions.

And Astarion had just laid there watching it happen.

Weak. Helpless. Powerless.

Tyrus’s lips paused now, interrupting Astarion’s inner spiral of loathing as he spoke in the mental connection still strung between them, Is this alright?

Astarion wanted to scream at him for such a question. Or maybe laugh, loud and mocking.

It wouldn’t fucking matter if it wasn’t alright, would it? he answered, not bothering to disguise the disgust laced in his mental tone. Then braced himself for Tyrus’s hand to continue cupping against his groin, for his lips to keep trailing across Astarion’s skin.

But Tyrus pulled back completely with both his hands and mouth, because he was Tyrus. And as stupid as Astarion would once have thought such a course of action, given their master watching them right now, he’d grown begrudgingly used to this sweet man’s quiet but stalwart acts of rebellion always on Astarion’s behalf.

He looked up at Astarion with his pale brows pulled together, his lips tight with concern, his eyes soft with—well, love, Astarion couldn’t deny. Then Tyrus mentally replied, It does. And when Astarion only frowned back, unsure what he was getting at, Tyrus clarified, It matters.

What an utterly absurd statement, Astarion nearly answered once he understood. Given the reality of his last nine or so decades—given the disgusting, rhythmic sensation of Cazador using him this very moment—the sentiment felt as insulting as it was naive.

What a futile nicety. What a lie.

And then Astarion saw the pure sincerity in Tyrus’s loving gaze . . . and something hard and dagger-sharp inside him cut through his ribcage.

It hurt. That was the strangest part, about receiving care and kindness after so long he’d forgotten their existence entirely. Like stretching muscles after being strung up for months. Like eyes acclimating to light after a year of darkness. Even now, years since Tyrus had crashed into his life with all the brightness, beauty, and otherworldly power of a meteor from the astral plane, Astarion still found himself wanting to recoil.

Instead, in this one case, he leaned into the pain.

And as his head fell and his face buried into the crook of Tyrus’s neck and shoulder, a sob wrenching from his aching chest, the next touch of Tyrus’s hand in his curls made Astarion feel almost as if he was something worth caring for in return.

#fic: perfect slaughter #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x original male character #tyrus #finally posting a little Astarion POV!!#his voice is a much harder challenge than Tyrus tbh #just so many sides of him ya know #and maybe a bit too relatable lol 💀😅#PS: drabbles #cw sa #cw sa implied

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anika-ann · 7 months

Text

Back and Forth - part 5

Part 5 - Backdrop

Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 16500 🥹 (bestie I-)

Chapter summary: In which secrets are revealed - by you, by Steve... and by your captors.

Series masterlist

Warnings: pain and unhealthy relationship to pain, mentions of chronic illness and chronic pain (and the relationship to it), blood, canon-typical violence, gunshot wounds, issues with self-worth, implied emotional abuse from a parent (or just shitty parenting), brief torture, mention of human experimentation and Nazi doctors, multiple mentions of death, plenty of swearing

A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance

A/N2: Going full circle, sweet readers - aka yes, the beginning might sound familiar, because it is where the prologue came from. And yes, it’s a very long chapter, but it truly feels it works better as one. If you do wish to split, the best point is at the two thirds (the divider). Dooon’t though :)

The exhaustion was coming and going in waves, alternating with pain, concern and fruitless determination.

You wondered if Steve felt the same; you assumed he did. Asking would feel a little silly though; you didn’t see the point and frankly, you and Steve had never been close enough to just sit down on a couch and share your feelings, keeping them close to the vest except for the heat of your occasional arguments. So you stayed quiet, alone in your wondering.

The pulse of pain in your legs dulled a while ago; you let your head lull back against the wall you were leaned against, the thud sounding just as dull.

The irony wasn’t lost on you; you and Steve were colleagues, very reluctant friends as best, guarded and unsure about the other most times despite him being one of the most honest people you had ever encountered. It was true that you stood by his side and he did by yours, but there had always been an invisible wall between you. By the irony of fate, now, when an actual wall separated you, you could feel the figurative one crumble down.

It was surreal and frankly scary; which was just as ironic, given your circumstance that should feel much more terrifying. And yet… you couldn’t help the little warmth spreading in your chest, knowing your back was aligned to the same wall Steve’s was, mere inches apart, and while admitting certain things to him hadn’t been pleasant, in hindsight, it felt good. No matter the outcome, you had no doubt that if you survived, you’d remember these moments fondly, at least to some point.

And yes, it probably made you a masochist; but what else was new.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the files?” Steve’s low voice snapped you out of your musing, making your heart jump a bit in fright.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he asked one of many questions you didn’t want to answer. It was another of his annoying and endearing talents – and you rarely gave him the satisfaction of replying fully, just for that. But what the hell, right? Maybe you were about to die here. And you had just thought about how telling the truth, while embarrassing, felt liberating too.

“Would you have listened?” you questioned him back anyhow.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

You heard him shift, the clank of metal and a low hiss escaping his lips making you gulp. You weren’t the only one battling pain.

“I would have heard you out. I admit I was angry at that time and I wasn’t… behaving as I should have and I’m sorry. But I would have heard you out.”

A brief barely-there smile curled your lips as he apologized again. Steve Rogers, ladies and gentlemen, unable to bear the fact he himself had been less than a gentleman. You might have been far from a friend and even farer from being able to tell you knew him and understood him despite having screamed at him the opposite, but you understood enough. Even if you sometimes wished you didn’t.

“But would you have listened?”

He didn’t reply.

You both knew the answer: no. He wouldn’t have, because he was the damn Captain America and he believed he knew the best, blindly following his inner compass pointing the true North even should all hell break loose, and those files weren’t a real concern anyway, were they?

Damn him.

And yet. As you challenged him further, you couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest humming louder, because yes, that was who he was, and you liked him that way, even if he was driving you mad at the same time.

“Or would have you just waved it off, because you are invincible?”

Silence stretched again.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus on hearing his breathing through the wall, still startled and relieved at how easy it was to do so. It was a good distraction from the pain still radiating from your wounds; and it kept your hope alive.

Dum spiro spero, right?

Despite the situation – or maybe out of spite, given both yours and Steve’s nature – you were still breathing and so was Steve. As infuriating as he was, you knew your heart would break to pieces if he stopped. Unable to walk or not, you’d find a way to break through the wall in mere seconds if he stopped talking to you.

Which he did just now.

Something in your ribcage contracted painfully, your voice shaky when you spoke his name, praying he was only offended at you calling him out. After all, being shot really fucking hurt, so you’d rather not move at all, let alone try to crash through concrete; that was the sole reason for your prayers. Liar, whispered a breathless voice, but you ignored it, your heart hammering against your sternum.

“…Steve?”

Blood rushed through your ears, making it impossible to tell, again, whether you could hear him breathe at all, or whether it was just your wishful thinking; long bony fingers of an invisible hand curled around your throat and squeezed at the mere thought that the latter was the case.

You swore, you swore to all Gods you knew, that if he had lied and his fresh bullet wound wasn’t just a graze, if he was actively dying right now and you didn’t even know and you couldn’t tell, if this infuriating bast-

“I don’t think I’m invincible,” he said at last and you released the breath you were holding, the coil in your chest loosening.

A brief flare of anger tried to replace the heavy weight on your chest – because God, you could kill him yourself for giving you a scare like that – but it was hard to stay mad at the man. It was, in fact, one of the most maddening things about him. That, and the fact he made it impossible not to care about him; a deadly feature on someone who was always the first to rush to catch a bullet with someone else’s name on it. Because he did think he was invincible.

God, he was such a likeable ass.

“Oh? Could have fooled me, really,” you sassed him, pretending you didn’t only barely manage to choke out the words. Honestly, it was a small miracle that you did, considering you had just swallowed the hysteria threatening to creep into your voice.

The responding groan of annoyance had the corners of your lips turn upward. It was like a drop of honey melting on your tongue; warm sweet satisfaction and relief at once, calming your nerves. Steve sure had plenty of fight in him left and you could kindle that fire if you pleased.

He had plenty of spite left too; and that was a very good thing.

“Don’t get snarky with me now.”

“Don’t bullshit me then,” you threw back, earning a huff – and then, a sigh, a few beats of silence, as if he was gathering strength to deal with your bullshit.

Frankly, at times you were surprised he still found that strength.

The other thing you noticed, however, was the pattern of his breathing not having changed. It was erratic in comparison to before he had projected and remained that way. There were many things this could mean, but one – the most likely one – had your heart clench painfully.

He hadn’t dodged the consequences of getting hurt in spectral form. It wasn’t just a startle; his pain did linger, just like yours would have. Your own chest ached at the realization; and your heart raced, because surely it was just a matter of time before he’d ask.

Ask the one forbidden question.

Then, guilt twisted you stomach for not having prepared him for the aftermath of getting shot as a spectre; however, the wise insistent voice in your head reminded you that you couldn’t have. You couldn’t have afforded him to know – you still couldn’t.

And it would have never been an issue if Tony damn Stark hadn’t insisted on dragging you to the stupid charity auction and Steve hadn’t agreed to it and then if he hadn’t projected, but he just had to be the ultimate good guy and take care of his injured teammate by any means necessary. Mr. Hero. Mr. Invincible. Case on damn point. You might have not been the best agent the agency had, but you used your brains at times and if they had only listened goddamnit-

“I don’t think I’m invincible…” he repeated slowly and you bit your tongue as not to protest to such claim again, taking a deep breath instead.

Silence stretched; then, a wavering breath of hesitation, his own this time. He was probably pondering whether he should tell you whatever he was about to say; whether you could be trusted not to turn that against him later.

You gulped, guilt nagging at your mind again.

You truly must have been excellent at your open despise for some of his decisions and him himself if his reluctance was anything to go by. Then again, that was hardly any news – his shouts from earlier had been enough of a testament to that. Even as the moments were hazy, wrapped in a fog, his voice still echoed in your ears.

‘Forget you hate me.’

‘Forget you think I don’t deserve the smallest bit of my fame.’

‘Forget that you think I’m just a glorified science experiment.’

God, he really had no idea in how high regard you held him, did he?

Sure, you hadn’t considered him entirely flawless, even as it was a close call; but you knew he deserved every bit of the reverence some people had in their eyes when they met him. Sometimes, it was just hard to remember that when he was flaunting his perfection right in front of your peasant Inhuman eyes, when you knew you could never reach that perfection yourself.

And yet, for whatever reason, he must have decided you were worthy of his trust; or perhaps he, just like you, thought there wasn’t much to lose anymore.

“But… people deserve a strong leader,” he whispered, the determination in his voice almost scarily firm even as he spoke with strange softness. “Agents need to feel they have someone they can lean onto when they feel like they have no more strength of their own left. They need order and someone to follow when everything else is chaos. They need someone fearless when facing the horrors we face every day. They need someone who swallows their own pain, so they find it in them to continue even when they feel like giving up, someone to take all the punches and kicks and stabs in the back and keeps going nevertheless, because-“

“No.”

His voice fell silent at the single word that spilled from your lips without a warrant, just like the tears that suddenly seemed to find their way to your cheeks. You didn’t think to blink them away before they were already out; you hadn’t realized they had started gathering in your eyes in the first place.

The breath you dared to draw was shaky, hesitant, and painful. Every single word Steve spoke drove a small needle through your lungs; painfully familiar and yet so foreign.

Be strong.

Be fearless.

Don’t let them see.

Get up. Now.

Swallow your pain.

I believe in your potential.

You are a marvel.

You have a duty.

Do good.

Do not dare to fail.

Lead.

Inspire.

All but the last two echoed through your head, spoken in your late father’s voice, clear as ever. Warm and distant; high praise and endless disappointment; a gentle touch and its screaming absence. The light at the end of the tunnel and the ball and chain at your neck, all at once.

It was hard to breathe, your mind hazier than your vision, emotions swirling in your chest violently; guilt, anxiety, longing, compassion. Recognition. Clarity.

Steve Rogers had it different, so much different, and yet, the weight of his burden felt familiar. Only his burden was the heavier for all the watchful eyes following his every move, as reverent as judging; with yours right there in the sea of millions, just waiting for an opportunity to lift yourself up on the ruins left behind by his failure, because if even Captain America made mistakes and wasn’t enough at times, then you could all shine just the same and there was still hope for lousy ordinary people like you to be excellent.

Didn’t you all wait in the shadows of his greatness, praying that he’d prove to be human like the rest of you – and stayed terrified of it at the same time?

Because he had a point, didn’t he? If not even Captain America could lift himself up after getting knocked down, then the rest of you might as well call it quits and abandon all hope.

Steve Rogers lived in own personal circle of hell just to keep you all a little further from your own.

He remained silent as you fought to form words after his admission; rendered speechless and stunned.

“Steve, no. I mean… yes. I— you’re not-“

The cacophony of feelings awoken by the epiphany of how painfully familiar these feelings were tasted salty on your lips, for the nth time in the past few hours. You struggled to explain, but you couldn’t just leave it at ‘no’, you couldn't, because while you heard him, you truly did, he was also so, so wrong.

And yet, he was terrifyingly right. Hadn’t you benefited from his immense strength just moments ago when he projected and treated you? Hadn’t you been insanely grateful for the strength that had nothing to do with the serum, with being a supersoldier, but had everything to do with being Steve Rogers?

The Captain America himself.

It was no wonder he had seemed like an angel at times, looked like he’d been carved by an ancient master of sculpture; a Greek demi-god, a Titan. If he truly believed what he said – and there was no doubt he did, it now screamed from every move, every decision, every tinniest gesture of his that you could recall in your pitiful state – he might have as well been Atlas himself. The world's beast of a burden.

And that was one hell of a burden to take on for one person. Even a person like him.

“I mean… you’re right, Steve, obviously. But… you’re wrong, because that’s just--- too much. And because we---we need to know you’re only human too, that you’re--- well,” you hummed, chuckling humourlessly, “if you are human at all, that is.”

He didn’t scoff, but it was a close thing. A funny sound he should make more often. It did sound quite human.

“I’m plenty human… and I’m not perfect,” he spat the word as if it burned his tongue, drawing a lovechild of a sob and a chuckle from your throat.

“Oh I know. You’re a stubborn reckless son of a bitch.”

And yet, you’re the best of us.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head, feeling like crying and laughing indeed as he chuckled, a breathy surprised sound.

This was the strangest fever dream. Were you and Steve really talking like this, so scarily open and unapologetic? Had you really just told him he was a stubborn and reckless SON OF A BITCH? If you had the courage and hadn’t you been in plenty of pain already, you’d pinch yourself to make sure it was still reality, as surreal as it felt.

“…I practically asked for that, didn’t I?” he noted self-deprecatingly and you could hear a faint smile in his voice, driving the corners of your lips up as well, the dangerous warmth in your chest rising again.

Warmth and the feeling that with a wall between you, with the note of humour in his voice, with his touch having been so gentle and careful, you could trust him and tell him what you thought without consequence.

Most definitely a fever dream, with your brain drunk on blood loss.

“Yeah, a little bit,” you said, unable to keep the smile from your voice too, despite your heart thundering in your chest.

That smile was quick to slip as something whispered in your head to continue, to share the thought that had your smile slip just as quickly. The mere idea of saying it, of indirectly revealing a huge tender area he could poke at if he pleased, made digging a bullet out of your leg look like a simple inconvenience – but he had to know. He had to realize; it was honestly baffling a man of his intelligence was absolutely blind to the powerful impact he had on others.

“The problem is… well, that other than that, you just might be less human than all Inhumans combined and that’s… that’s a really hard standard to meet, you know?” you whispered, almost soundlessly, unsure you truly wanted him to hear.

The response came much more swiftly and much more baffling that you had expected. If voices could frown, Steve’s was most definitely frowning.

“I think you’re meeting it pretty damn well.”

You snorted, humourless laugh gathering in your chest and threatening to burst out – you only contained it from the fear of the intense pain returning if you shook too much. But your hands rose on their own will, palms up; a mute gesture of confusion he couldn’t see.

“Since when? You projected here just now because I needed your help to do what I should be doing on my own. You nearly ripped me a new one when I was irresponsible and projected without a second thought to protect Natasha and Sam – which I don’t regret in the slightest, by the way – but that doesn’t exactly meet that standard either,” you added, words spilling without filter now that you opened the floodgates. “About two weeks ago, you literally shook me to snap me back because you thought I was going to pass out before I could do what needed to be done – and you were right. As always. You knew I couldn’t do it even before I did, so really, thanks for the attempt at compliment, but we both know not even you believe you could ever mean it.”

You were breathless as you finished; and the aftertaste of your words was bitter as truth often was.

You could scoff again. How could he mean it?

‘Meeting it pretty damn well.’

Right.

You weren’t that deep into your fever dream to believe that; to believe he believed that. As if meeting that standard was even possible by anyone but Steve Rogers himself.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. Your direct superior.

You gulped, panic seizing you as the small alarm in the back of your mind reminded you with urgency that you were still talking to your Captain, this was reality, and he could easily bench you and maybe, maybe listing all your shortcomings of the past weeks wasn’t the best idea if you wanted to keep your damn job.

“And I know that’s not alright, but I’m… I swear I’m trying to get better,” you added swiftly, lump growing in your throat as the silence that followed your words. “I can get better and I will!”

…Captain, Sir.

You only swallowed his rank and the sir because it felt like he’d think you were mocking him. Not that it mattered; because Steve remained quiet.

You could hear him breathe – without any real change, so you didn’t think the reason for his silence was loss of consciousness.

Which meant that the reason was the complete loss of the last remnants of respect he could have ever held for you.

It was selfish of you, but for a moment, you almost wishedhe had fallen unconscious somewhere during your monologue or at least entered some altered state of mind which would make him forget you had said anything at all, because then he wouldn’t have that muchreason to fire you, to send you back to Coulson like a faulty goods, demanding a refund.

You should have kept your stupid mouth shut.

You should have—he was going to fire you. He was going to take away the one thing you were remotely good, at, he was going to--- he was- fuck, fuck, fuck-

Finally, the sound of your name washed over you like a calming tide wave.

It didn’t sound condescending. It didn’t sound unkind, despite you having basically asked for the exact opposite by serving your failures on the silver platter. If anything, Steve’s voice seemed to waver, thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite understand.

“You are more than meeting the standard. You truly are,” he said again, sighing and for some reason, it sounded as if he was gathering strength to do… something. “But you’re wrong. I… the truth is that I knew I couldn’t do it.”

You sat up straighter, frowning; curious and absolutely dumbfounded – for many reasons.

One was obvious – you had no idea what he was referring to. Two – did he just… was that praise? He truly sounded as if he meant that you were somewhat good enough in his eyes. Since when? That was just too insane even as the past 24 hours were the very definition of insanity. And three – he was once again admitting to some sort of a shortcoming, which was surprising too to say at least.

And your voice reflected all that.

“Do what?”

He sighed again, his breath hitching, the smallest noise signalling pain escaping him, one you probably wouldn’t have heard hadn’t it been for your enhanced senses. You winced, guilt gnawing at your stomach again even as it was already tight with apprehension.

Do what?

“Watch you pass out again, knowing you got shot,” he whispered, effectively turning you into a statue, every muscle, including your heart, freezing. “I always try to plan so nobody gets shot. It’s my responsibility to ensure that no one gets hurt, let alone like that, and yes, sometimes that fails, but… that is the primary objective. To bring everyone home. And then you go and… I simply couldn’t take that again.”

You blinked, a strange feeling settling in your gut, one you couldn’t seem to grasp.

You felt like an idiot. You must have looked like one too, because you had no damn idea what the hell he was talking about.

You understood every individual word, you understood the sentences, but you… didn’t understand.

Worse, you did understand, but that understanding didn’t fit into the big picture, didn’t explain what that had to do with him making you snap back.

Irritation flared up in your gut as your brain raced and kept coming up empty of any coherent image of Steve Rogers. You had thought you had begun to understand better and better; and then his last words shattered the picture again, leaving you baffled.

And frankly, you despised being put into a position where you felt like less than a half-wit.

“…why? Does it really hurt your pride that much, that someone from your troops would disobey your order and mess with your perfect plan? So much that you throw the plan out of the window just to throw a fit? Just so no one gets hurt on Captain America’s precious watch?”

The moment you asked, you knew the questions were much sharper than he deserved, meaner and entirely unfair. You knew it was a lame defence mechanism clicking into place the moment it even remotely appeared that the sincerity in his voice was giving you just the last piece you needed to complete the absolute puzzle he was; because that was just not right, it couldn’t be. It never had been right.

‘I couldn’t watch you pass out again, knowing you got shot.’

He couldn’t be saying that. He shouldn’t be saying that. It made no damn sense. He couldn’t- that wasn’t--- yes, you had established he cared about bringing everyone home indeed, but that wasn’t--- it didn’t sound quite like what he was saying.

What was he saying?

Your body, your brain specifically, had rebooted, neurons firing all messy as you tried to make sense of this and was now coming up with either absurd explanations or none at all.

Steve’s laughter was both bitter and genuinely amused, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Sure, that too. But… it’s up to me to keep everyone safe. I need to do it. I want to keep everyone safe. Including you,” he added, almost softly and the shudder that ran down your spine was unlike anything you had ever felt.

It wasn’t… bad, not necessarily, not when you let it happen. It was the thrill of danger, the call of unknown, luring you in; and at the same time, something pulled at your heartstrings so violently you weren’t sure anymore whose chest hurt more. Your eyes burned and so did your lungs as you couldn’t take a deep breath all of sudden.

He really cared, didn’t he? He cared so damn profoundly for everyone under his command it was a wonder he got up from bed in the morning with such heavy responsibility on his mind. And somehow, that group of people he cared for included you.

He would have taken that bullet for you even if he hadn’t in his spectral form, wouldn’t he? Because that was the weight he had taken upon his shoulders, the weight of the world indeed, the weight he agreed to carry whenever he picked up his shield.

The symbolism of choosing that weapon – a weapon as much as a tool of protection – had never been lost on you, but it now appeared heavier and more tangible than ever.

You gulped, letting the new unbelievable piece of knowledge wash over you, another shiver brushing your body.

And still.

Even with all he said, even if you were crazy enough to believe him, it still made no damn sense that it would make him shake you awake and snap back over two weeks ago. And it didn’t explain why he kept putting himself into the position of your own personal guard dog so often whenever you were to project on a mission.

“I… okay.”

You were the farthest thing from okay, but that was beside the point.

It just made no damn sense.

“But that is what you do, always. I am safe. Even if I do get shot out there,” you said slowly, not sure if you were reminding that to yourself or him. “Even if I get beaten up to a pulp and keep going long enough to almost bleed out after that… it’s not real. The pain is, yes-” More than you’d ever know… or as you already know, you thought, swallowing against your dry throat.“And I do have to push through it hard to keep the spectre going, but--- that’s it. All that happens to the real me is losing consciousness and some serious exhaustion, Steve, it’s not-”

“Until it isn’t,” he interrupted you with urgency, causing your voice die out mid-sentence. “What if I fail? What if I fail to protect you, leave you there unconscious and vulnerable – your real body? What if one of those days your abilities act out? What if, one day, the injuries of your spectre transfer to your body, without prior warning? Look at us now. Nobody could have predicted this and yet here we are. Not to mention the pain you feel, passing out… that’s not nothing and we don’t even know the long-term consequences of that. So no, I--- I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let that happen to you again.”

‘I couldn’t let that happen to you again.’

The last words echoed through your skull in a bizarre echo, the room out of focus despite your gaze turned to the opposite wall and your frantic blinks.

It still didn’t make a lick of sense, none of the things he had said, words built on fruitless pondering about what-ifs – except it made the perfect sense.

Hadn’t you worried exactly about that just a few moments ago? When Steve had got shot right in front of your eyes – an image that would haunt you forever, you suspected – even if it had been just his projection?

Yes, you had much more reason to worry; the transition of the effects of the serum to you wasn’t complete either, since you hadn’t exactly grown several inches tall nor gained a hundred pounds of muscle, so it was reasonable at least to assume the transition of your powers to him hadn’t been complete either. But you could see what he meant: powers, no matter how useful, were a volatile thing. You had seen how difficult the beginnings with Daisy’s powers had been and how she was still discovering what she could do to this day, almost two years later. And she was someone whom you considered extremely capable with her abilities.

Was it truly so unfathomable that in his overbearing responsibility for his team, Steve would worry about things going awry with your powers, resulting in you being a lot more hurt than anticipated?

Something had grown in your throat, making it hard to speak, but you pushed the words out anyway, even as they had the strangest taste on your tongue.

“You… never told me it worries you. You never told me that it bothered you.”

You never told me that you cared, not only if I get hurt, but if I hurt. Never told me you cared. Not like this. Not… for me.

Even as your whole frame shook under the weight of the realization, your chest too full for you to breathe properly, gaze swimming in tears you had miraculously kept from your voice, it dawned to you how it all added up with him being the one guarding you.

He truly didn’t trust anyone else with it, but not because he was so full of himself.

With everything you knew about him, when you had gathered all the facts, it should have been clear in any moment when you hadn’t been at odds with him. It had just never clicked, not when it was you; apparently, to him, a part of the Avengers just like any other of the heroes he called friends. His team.

You were the newest addition. Your powers were ones of the most unpredictable and volatile, possibly more than the Hulk’s, even if less deadly.

He felt the responsibility in his bones. He wanted to make sure, personally, that you’d be okay, because that was what he did.

“No, I didn’t. Not without my concern shouted in harsh words instead of spoken in clear ones.”

You gulped, brushing over the slightly veiled apology. He had apologized enough; he had done his atonement a long time ago. Not to mention you hadn’t been exactly receptive to what he might have been trying to say besides clearly being disappointed in you, so there was he wasn’t the only one to blame.

There had been a lot happening under the surface; things you should have known that or at least guess, but you had refused to even consider there could have been anything written between the lines for the fear of revealing another deeper layer of perfection you could never even hope to reach yourself.

And for the fear of falling for him deeper.

Too late, wasn’t it?

Because there was no going back now, was it? Not with the memory of his soft touch. Not with the memory of him admitting he cared so profoundly, even if not in the way you foolishly dreamed of and dreaded all the same. Not with being a wall apart and yet finally allowing yourself to see him. Not with him letting you see him.

What was adding a little insult to the injury?

“You never told me how hard it is to control your strength either and… or how much it hurts to heal. Or how heavy your responsibility feels,” you said, not having the will to silence your mind.

You never even hinted there was so much more to you. You never shared that you feel like the rest of us, that you are so perfectly imperfect and human, just a speckle of fault that makes you all the better person; just like there’s but a speckle of green in your cerulean eyes that make them all the more beautiful.

Jesus you needed to get a grip before your loose tongue revealed even more of your unhinged train of thought. Maybe it was the time for that pinch to your forearm; to remind yourself you were very much in reality still; even as the ever-present breathy quality of Steve’s voice reminded you that he was in a very real pain, just like you.

“I didn’t think you needed to know. And it gets easier with time… most of the time anyway,” he added with a slightly humorous note before he grew serious again. And softer. “A far cry from keeping an astral body and controlling it, even when you’re in a lot of pain.”

It was but a hint, a dangerous hint to the great scary secret you harboured. You had been forced by circumstance before, to project while you still felt the aftermath of your spectral injuries by circumstance, since missions didn’t tend to wait until your imaginary yet painful wounds from previous projections healed. And yet; all Steve could have been talking about was simply getting hurt as a spectre and staying focused on keeping up the illusion anyway.

An illusion a bit like the one in his words; you doubted ‘it got easier’. You knew enough about what it was like to hurt. It didn’t get easier; it just became a routine to ignore it for the sake of something else. For others. For the job. For survival.

Just like it became easier to build impenetrable walls to protect what’s left, no matter how little the scraps were. Just like it became easier to let another of his compliments fly above your head, or at least to pretend it had, while it effortlessly climbed over the ruins of the very wall that had fallen when you and Steve ended up here and it touched you in your very soul.

“It gets easier with time,” you echoed his words with an absent smile, resting your cheek against the literal wall, almost as if the little turn of your head could offer you a glimpse of him. You wondered if he believed you that you meant it any more that you believed he meant what he was saying. “And I don’t know… it’s what you do that feels pretty impossible to me.”

You thought he shook his head; the quiet rustle of fabric and the note of something in his voice made it sound as if he had shaken his head.

“It was never my intention to make you feel like anything less than absolutely incredible,” he whispered sincerely, the grip he had taken on your heartstrings insistent, tugging again. “To make you think I believe you are anything less than that. What I actually believe is that you are that and more.”

You blacked out for a moment.

You must have blacked out, because when you came to, there was a static noise in your ears and burning in your eyes; your palm was laid over your ribcage, the feeling larger than life still swirling in your chest so hot and brutal you must have felt the need to make sure your body remained in one piece, unchanged.

However, the wavering rise and fall of your chest told you that hearing Steve say that, in the sweetly sincere voice and sounding as if it was simply another fact of life, had changed you fundamentally.

He truly cared for people, didn’t he? He cared and he believed in them, no matter how messed up they were. That was his true superpower and no stupid alien artifact could ever take that from him. And if the damn Kree couldn’t do that, if realizing he had lost everything good he had known when he woke up in the new millennium hadn’t done it, Hydra shouldn’t even hope to succeed.

They could develop the antiserum, they could strip him from whatever power Doctor Erskine had gifted him, but couldn’t take that. And that was the reason why even if you damn well died in here – and fuck did you not want to die – he would win. And they’d lose. Because they might eventually succeed in knocking Captain America down, but Steve Rogers would get back up and end them.

And damn, did he deserve better. He deserved the truth.

“I never meant to question your leadership either, Steve,” you responded in kind at last, trying your hardest to ignore the creaky quality of your voice. “I follow your orders, though sometimes with a few adjustments, for a reason. I… I would follow them if they led me through to hell because I know-- well, I know you’d send me there for a good reason. I just… couldn’t follow them that back in that base, because I knew better.”

“Because you were trying to protect me.”

He voiced your true motivation so effortlessly; and yet, his words were wrapped in such an agonizingly tender awe you nearly choked at the tone – and at your own laugh.

Because it was a laughable and unbelievable concept, wasn’t it? One little you trying your best, one little enhanced human thinking they could at least help to protect a demigod.

Worked well for you both, didn’t it?

“Well. Someone needs to try and protect our fearless reckless leader, right?”

“Right,” he echoed and you could hear a smile just as tender as before, so unlike the light self-deprecating note you had allowed to creep into your voice. “Can I… can I ask you something?”

You felt your eyebrows arch involuntarily, curious – grateful for the distraction from how unbearably full and warm yourheart seemed to be.

“Pretty sure we crossed that line, Steve. Shoot.”

You regretted the choice of words the moment they left your mouth, the beat of silence that followed awkward at best; and yet, a small snort escaped you before you could contain it.

“That’s really not fu-”

“No. No, it’s not,” you agreed quickly, even as the corners of your lips kept twitching for some reason. But could anyone blame you? It was a little funny. It was absurd how all of this felt like a bad joke… even the lovely parts, which were the most absurd of it all. “I’m sorry. I didn’t--- I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“You’d better,” he grumbled, but the scolding got lost somewhere in translation, because he sounded a little bit amused at least at your horrible choice of words.

You let the smile tugging so insistently at your lips win, feeling like Steve had done the same – at least before his voice fell quieter.

“But what I mean is… when we were fighting, when I was--- yelling at you, and you mentioned pain.”

Your smile froze in an instant, your eyes slipping shut, the feeling of your thundering heartbeat consuming you. There was no doubt where this was going; frankly, you were shocked it took him so long to call you out.

He must have been hurting this whole time, even as the only indication he had given you was his heavier breathing due to the pain in his chest.

“You… curled up, recoiled,” he continued, slow and hesitant – everything your heartbeat was not. “As if you could still feel it. It wasn’t the first time it happened either and it’s been on my mind for a while. Does it--- I’m sorry, I can’t stop thinking about it, I do realize I have no right to ask, not really. I-”

“To ask what exactly?” you interrupted him in a small choked voice, even if you knew all too well what information he was interested in.

It was funny though.

‘It wasn’t for the first time it happened either.’

‘It’s been on my mind for a while.’

There was no way you could confirm what he was saying, but he had no reason to lie. You weren’t sure Steve Rogers was capable of lying, or at least being capable of being good at it. You had no prove but you felt it in your bones that he was telling the truth, tiptoeing around the uncomfortable question awkwardly as if he had been there before indeed. As if he had wanted to ask before.

He had noticed.

Of course he had fucking noticed, who had you been kidding. He was too observant for his own good; and too respectful to ask before. Perhaps he had thought the pain was simply something that had passed in a few minutes – you had been careful to hide it – and thus he had thought it was not his place to pry.

‘I do realize I have no right to ask.’

Except he had every right. As your superior who needed to know your condition to plan missions accordingly – even as you pushed hard enough not to let it affect your results in the field – and as someone who was experiencing the pain no one had warned him about right now.

You didn’t know whether you should burst out laughing or silently weep, the two tendencies pulling you in different direction so skilfully you ended up doing neither, giving Steve the opportunity to ask his question.

“To ask how much of that pain you remember when you snap back. How much of it… you feel after.”

You let your eyes slip shut, your stomach somersaulting despite knowing it was coming.

You could lie. You could tell him it was but a brief temporary side effect which would pass. You could deny you felt anything at all, leaving him thinking it was something he was experiencing due to the questionable power switch between you. The former could come bite you in the ass if you wouldn’t be able to reverse the artifact’s effect eventually; that was, if you’d live long enough to even try. The latter would mean leave Steve thinking he was the problem, the pain not being a universal part of the glorified power you had, only some shortcoming on his side.

Neither of the options seemed fair – in fact, the latter felt downright nasty, sending bile up your throat.

Steve had been doing everything in his power, quite literally, to ease your suffering. He had done justice to the golden part of his mocking moniker and had been nothing short of a good man, offering compassion, kindness and honesty. As much as any kind of lie would make your life easier, you didn’t think you’d be able to look yourself in the eye in a mirror. Steve deserved better than a lie or even a half-truth.

Sharing that burden with him now didn’t seem as scary as it had before either. He was only human too; he was the one person who would, given his past, knew that feeling pain didn’t mean one was completely helpless or useless.

Not to mention that chances indeed were you weren’t going to make it out of here. The least he’d deserve was to know the truth; and to know he wasn’t weak or messed up to feel the pain still. That, or you were both messed up.

The silence stretched as you took a deep breath, gathering courage. While sharing the burden whispered of relief, you weren’t a complete idiot. You had no doubt that Steve was going be less than thrilled to learn you had been hiding this from him. Dread pooed in your stomach as your heart threatened to jump out of your chest, but at last, you forced the words out with a sigh.

“…all of it. I… if it’s something big, I can still feel it even days after, gradually fading away. A bit faster than an actual wound would take to heal by my estimate, but… yeah.”

Dead quiet.

If the silence before had stretched, the quiet that followed this was endless. And deafening, even with Steve’s still ragged breathing.

“So it’s not just me now. It never switches off when you snap back,” he more stated than asked, suddenly sounding at highest alert. And stunned.

You could hear it in his voice, bubbling just under the surface of a matter-of-fact voice, gasoline waiting for a lit match. The anger – and a whole set of emotions you hadn’t dared to guess – he was holding back was almost palpable, even over the wall. There was no going back from your admission; but the safe way was to carefully choose your next words, as to minimize the damage.

And yet.

Maybe you had a death wish. Maybe you were a bit too reckless – that had to be the reason why the words you chose were precisely those, throwing back his assumptions even if with without malice, but with a tiny shrill of satisfaction.

“No. Contrary to the popular belief, it doesn’t.”

A beat of silence; the lit match nearing the gasoline, almost as if in slow motion, anticipation of a catastrophe to sweep the world.

Then, the explosion; a lick of fire on your cheek even if the only thing that happened was Steve tugging violently on his chains as if he wanted to hit anything in reach and a frustrated noise that sounded almost like a growl, causing you to wince and squeeze your eyes shut tighter.

“Goddammnit Spectre! Why wouldn’t you-"

Steve cut himself of mid-sentence, a deep breath of his reaching your ears, even as taking it must have hurt like hell with his spectral wound. And then another. A low noise full of something you couldn’t quite decipher.

But when Steve spoke again, it was on normal volume, perhaps even lower. “How many times have you… why would you-- I’m sorry. It never--- it never even occurred to me. It should have. And I’m sorry.”

Your eyes had snapped open at the first sorry; at the other, you were blinking uselessly, mind having come to a screeching halt as if his reaction had pulled at some sort of a figurative emergency break.

Except everything in your now screamed there was an emergency.

You understood nothing. Not anymore. Not how his anger could have given way to some sort of guilt.

Guilt? How could he have felt guilty?

Everything in your insisted it was wrong, so so wrong, the world not making any sense again. Except just as fast as the shock had overtaken you, soft understanding pushed it away in an annoyingly gentle manner that made a lump grow in your throat.

“You couldn’t have known,” your caught yourself whispering, a tug at your insides insistent as the realization started to take root; Steve felt responsible.

He felt responsible for your choices.

It was absurd. It was stupid. You had taken him for a noble jerk, but not a martyr – not this kind of martyr anyway. Not an idiot.

“I could have asked. But I assumed instead. I’m truly sorry,” he repeated, causing you to blink again, realization dawning to you anew, this time much more logical. That… he had a point in that. That was exactly what you had threw back at him earlier. He was quick to catch on; you less so. You were beginning to understand that despite the intriguing, terrifying and liberating conversation, your brain was registering your blood loss more and more by the minute. It had to be if it was so slow. “I’m sorry not only that it’s happening but for not being understanding of it.”

The thing was, you weren’t sure you’d tell him even if he had asked.

Scratch that. You knew that you wouldn’t.

“It’s okay. Apology accepted, Steve,” you echoed your words from the auction, a brief smile passing your lips as you did so. Your face had grown damp with tears again, you realized distantly; released pressure, dark secret coming to light. Relief.

He hadn’t yelled at you – not really. And he knewnow. You almost wanted to laugh. He knew.

His guilt was misplaced however, you we aware as much; he shouldn’t have to ask. Such thing was expected to be listed on file. Except you had made sure that it wouldn’t when erasing Andy’s records of your sessions.

The sudden urge to sooth Steve, feeling a physical manifestation of how he was beating himself over the fact he had made a half-wrong guess where he shouldn’t have, the burden on his shoulders having now grown another ton heavier as a consequence, slammed into your weary bones.

“It’s okay, Steve. I was hiding it. You simply couldn’t have known.”

“But why? Why didn’t you tell us?” he demanded, urgency bleeding over his shock, his investigative Captain mode activated again. Hadn’t it been that he was asking uncomfortable questions, you’d smile at the change. The man with a plan. A man of action and analytic mind. Steve Rogers, ladies and gentlemen. “You never took breaks after you got hurt. Not as Spectre anyway. If… if the pain lingers… if there is nothing that can to be done about that once it happens, why wouldn’t you let us know you needed time to heal?”

Because you’d take away the only thing I can cling to, your mind but breathed out weakly, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks, hands flexing into fists, brief panic seizing your throat at the mere idea of thathappening. You’d take away the only thing I can do with my life. The only thing I know how to do.

You couldn’t tell him that. You had whispered too many secrets over this wall already, the majority of your defences down. But not this one. This one you had to keep in order to keep your sanity, to keep your place.

You were still an agent. There was no more place for whining; god knew you had already whined for enough to run out of a limit for years and years to come.

But you could still tell the truth. You should. Steve deserved nothing less; but you deserved to have some dignity left dammit. You scrambled to gather the last remnants of your pitiful shield and put it up, along with scraps of rationality.

“I’m an agent – I need to be able to handle pain, more than most. And I can,” you said firmly, ignoring the pull at your muscles as if your wounds wanted to confirm your words; or disprove them “Pain is a part of our life every day.”

“… it really shouldn’t be. Definitely not like this,” Steve protested, voice sounding a little weaker than before. You couldn’t tell whether it had anything to do with his physical state or whether he was simply struggling to protest when he actually agreed with you.

Pain was an undeniable and inevitable part of life; for some people more than others. He should know, shouldn’t he?

A hundred-pound asthmatic with a list of illnesses longer than your resumé in what probably felt like his past life; now, a proud sturdy shield taking punches and bullets left and right to protect others.

He’d know all about pain; back then and now. It suddenly barely made any sense that you had ever kept this from him if you looked at it from this angle. Then again, that was Steve Rogers.

Your life would be a lot easier if Steve Rogers and Captain America – your boss – were two separate people. But they weren’t. Looking back, you truly hated it as much as you loved it, every single day.

With a bittersweet smile on your lips, you wiped at your cheeks.

“I suppose it shouldn’t, but we don’t get to choose. You of all people should know that. You used to live it. You’re Captain America – you still live it.”

He a took a deep breath, sounding outraged and defeated at once – because you were right.

“True, but-“

“But nothing,” you interrupted him, indignant to make him understand. Without revealing too much. He was a smart cookie – he didn’t need all the information. “I have to handle it and I do. Thousands of people handle pain every day. What I have is no different from other chronic conditions, except it is. I have an advantage. Because to a large point, I can prevent it. Unlike other chronic pain, mine is simply an occupational hazard that occurs if I mess up as a spectre. And my occupational hazard is way kinder than any other agent’s, because when other agents get shot, they bleed. They die when they bleed out. I pass out. So really. I’m the lucky one.”

You expected it would shut him up; you expected him to ponder over your words.

You were wrong. Again.

“That is debatable,” he threw back in an instant, though not unkindly. A gentle reprimand rather than a challenge to argue. “And you can still bleed. And it doesn’t answer my question, not entirely at least.”

“I know,” was all you said.

You’d let him pick to which of his words it applied to. It applied to all of them.

“…I’m not… ordering you to answer it,” he continued softly, voice quieter again. “I understand you can have plenty reason to keep it to yourself, I just… I want to understand so we can adjust your schedule to accommodate your needs. You already give more than enough. This… this is beyond anyone could ask of you.”

You smiled bitterly, for once able to stop fresh tears from spilling even as his words struck you straight into your heart.

Of course he would think that. Of course he would want to do that.

Stupid big-hearted hypocritical dumbass.

And what about what we ask from you? What about you ask from yourself? you wanted to retort, but swallowed your rhetorical questions you already had an answer to, opting for a tired smile instead.

“That’s not necessary, Steve. I’m fine.”

Most of the time. And when I’m not fine, I have to be anyway.

He repeated your name, somehow sounding both compassionate and pissed beyond belief; patient and insistent.

“Why?”

You almost, almost grinned, recalling Simmons’ words with stunning clarity, the words etched into your brain and bones, her British accent included.

An absolute marvel. You… you are a marvel.

And who wouldn’t want to be that? Even if for a while? Who wouldn’t swallow their pain, their cries, their blood?

A marvel.

It was embarrassing almost, to cling to it like that, you knew that.

And yet. Something about Steve’s voice, the gentle insistence, the genuine desire to simply understand you, pushed you to tell the truth. He’d understand. You had kept telling yourself he wouldn’t, because he had always put on this brave invincible face – or maybe you had believed he did, to make him even more unreachable – but the truth was that he truly was the one person who could understand all too well.

“I can’t afford to have a weakness. Not another one.”

I can’t show any weakness was written between the lines and you had a feeling Steve read just as easily as if it was written explicitly in all capital letters in your blood instead of in ink.

“You’re only human too,” he whispered, so damn quiet and as tender as his hands had been. “You’re allowed to be human. It’s no different than Bucky having a prosthetic, than people taking time off to heal and then rehabilitate after a physical injury to their non-astral body. We would never allow you back to field if-”

“I can handle it!” you exploded at once, a raging fire licking at your veins the second he implied you were unable to do your job properly, the job you had trained for your whole life, since you were a damn child, you were just fine, dammit! “I’m not a charity case, I don’t need any special treatment! I’m nothing less than-“

“But you don’t have to handle it, that’s my point!” he snapped in response to your shout. The authority and conviction his voice held, even on normal volume, had you shut up in immediately. And listen. “And it doesn’t make you less of an agent to be treated accordingly to your condition! I didn’t mean to say that we wouldn’t let you into the field because you’re weak, because I know you’re everything but that – but we wouldn’t let someone with a healing gunshot wound into the field either. All I’m saying is that if we knew, you wouldn’t have to suffer. You’re a person first, an asset to the team next. No one would think any less of you. You deserve to rest, you deserve having your needs met, you deserve to be treated like a damn human being!”

A sharp inhale and exhale; a brief moment to process what he said while he gathered strength to speak again. A brief moment for you to gather the pieces of the world he had shattered for you.

In that moment, a strange feeling of peace washed over you, one you imagined one might find in an apocalyptic world, a place when all that had been known was ruin and fleeting wistful pleasures, when the sun came of for the first time in centuries; so peculiar, incomprehensible and untouchable. But warm. And beautiful.

“Why--- why wouldn’t you--- don’t you-?”

“Not where I come from,” you whispered, smiling tight and bitter through the tears even as Steve couldn’t see you.

The metaphorical sight of that sun was beautiful and you basked in it. But it was as gorgeous as hurtful; tied to the knowledge it would not last.

A pregnant pause followed your words and you knew. You knew you had said too much. Shared way too many things that no one but your therapist should know – and that was already one person too many and she was aware of considerably less.

And then, creeping horror. Steve was quiet – for too long. Deadly quiet too – couldn’t hear his breathing.

Panic hit you like a ton of bricks all over again, digging into your heart with sharp nails, deeper than before with a profound knowledge of the universal truth.

This was how it went, didn’t it? You opened up to someone too much, you told them about your pain, about your most pitiful secret and they showed understanding and compassion – and then they died. One of the great reasons why you had kept it secret, why you had insisted on being in the field so much; if you weren’t there, if you weren’t doing what you were meant to do, people died. They would too if anyone learned and you got benched for your comfort.

Death followed your potential confession in so many ways. You knew that, always had, so why had you been so stupid again to-

You should have never told anyone. Especially not Steve.

“Steve?! Are you-“

“You deserve nothing less than having your needs respected and met,” he said slowly, every syllable carefully measured, unshakable despite the shaky breath he had finally released and you could kill him, your heart thundering in your chest at the brutal scare he had given you and his words alike. “You deserve better than that. You always have. And you are sure as hell going to get that when you’re with us.”

With me, said the steel in his voice.

The shudder running through you had nothing to do with cold, your breathing shallow and quick, something in his voice, something untouchable and so perfectly tangible and the realest thing you had ever touched, forcing you to listen and accept, and accept willingly, because what he said was nothing but the very essence of kind.

This was who he was. Righteous and fair. A vessel for violence to be unleashed, if necessary, but an infinitely kind man. It had nothing to do with you – he would do that for anyone, you were more than aware, because care was in the very core of Steve Rogers; but to have it aimed at you still felt like the warmest hug you had never known, one you got without working hard for it, without deserving it first for once.

It felt like Steve’s large hands gently cradled your heart, fingertips running over the cracks mended with concrete, smoothening the rough edges. It was terrifying because one second of his superhumanly strong grip and the hasty repairs would crack irreparably; but it came with a soft thrill and warm waterfalls of tears running down your cheeks instead, because every tender stroke whispered there was not the tiniest need for caution. Not if these were his hands.

Was it strange to still see them as impossibly strong even if you now carried the supersoldier abilities yourself?

He was waiting, patiently so, you could tell as much – but he expected a reaction. Of any kind. A scream, a scoff, a whisper. A protest or a confirmation, a vague hm. Anything.

What he received was a creaky voice and a bargain, a whisper sounding so shallow in comparison of how terribly profoundlyhis words touched you and rearranged your soul.

“I’ll remember that if we make it out, hm? But only if you take your own advice and allow yourself to be a human too.”

“Sounds only fair,” he whispered warmly. “Deal, Spectre.”

‘Deal, Spectre.’ Just like that. As if you two hadn’t just agreed to try to fundamentally change., but agreed what time the next training session would start.

But the lightness was deceiving; you were both all too aware. But what was a little promise when you had no idea how long you’d live, right?

“Deal, Cap. …but don’t you fucking scare me like that. Don’t you dare to stop talking to me or to close your eyes,” you said sharply and damn, you meant it. Hadn’t you had bigger thing to process, you’d smack the wall and imagined it was him.

Holding him damn breath, was he trying to kill you?

“Sorry. But one of the strongest people I know told me it doesn’t work like that. No amount of talking keeps someone awake.”

You gulped even as the corners of your lips twitched a bit as his sassy response – bless his observation that after dealing with such heavy matters, humour was the most welcomed reprieve. You wanted your reply to reek of snark, but probably failed. Because damn him, you were still too deep into processing what had just happened and he was not sparing a single opportunity to compliment you – the feeling it elicited inside you was foreign and difficult to contain.

“Sounds like a smart girl. But she fails to take into account that hearing a voice might not keep a person awake, but can be just… nice,” you said, not fighting the softness that crept into your voice anymore. “So unless the other person is being an ass… it can feel really good to hear their voice.”

It was too intimate to say that, scarily so; but the warmth that enveloped you when you heard his response was worth it, you thought.

“I like hearing your voice too.”

One of the important things agents were taught at the SHIELD academy was keeping track of time when there was virtually no way to do so; no watch, no phone, no indication of a day or a night. How to keep your head straight, when deprived of one of the basic stimuli – daylight. No training done purely in kid gloves ever worked, so this, being held captive in a room without windows, was how you practised.

And yet; you had no idea how long you had been in captivity. It was a fact that no training could have prepared you for everything – like getting shot twice, having your friend (colleague, Steve was colleague, a superior) shot in front of you, having your powers exchanged – but that made it no less frustrating to not being able to tell how long it had been.

You had a few indications, sure; there was only so many hours one could survive without water, but all that your parched throat, dizziness and occasional zoning out told you, was that it hadn’t been three days – because you were still alive. The water bottle the asshole who had shot Steve had thrown in was staring at you mockingly, your fingers twitching at weak moments of pondering whether you should simply give in; but since you could resist so far, you knew it couldn’t have been that long. Given the blood loss and the fact you hadn’t passed out, your rough estimate was that it had been a few hours.

But god, were they endless.

At least you had good company still; Steve’s soft check-in reached your ears again, a ghost of an exhausted smile passing over your lips.

“What was your favourite class at the academy?” he asked then, causing you to chuckle self-deprecatingly.

It was selfish. Self-centred. But it was the truth – but could anyone really blame a person for liking doing what they were good at?

“Gymnastics. I… I had a head start,” you admitted reluctantly, Steve’s voice warm as he hummed in response.

“That’s fair. It does sounds like you’re underselling though.”

Your smile widened, a small spark of a giddy feeling that was most definitely not supposed to arise in your chest flickering to life.

“What did you like the best back at the camp?”

“Hand to hand,” he replied simply, the smile in his voice puzzling you as much as his answer. You had purposely asked about the camp, thinking he might… tell you about what it was like before the serum. It was naïve, you berated yourself; this was nothing but small talk to kill time, while Steve no doubt kept working on any possible solutions to your shitty predicament. You were an idiot to think- “That is after I was shown that size and strength don’t always matter. That I could still win if I worked hard to improve my skills. And had a bit of smarts.”

Your shoulders sagged, the warmth in your chest spreading again. He was being honest. Open. And the vague image of a small guy kicking arse due to his brains and determination alone was most endearing and powerful. And you had it now to keep; because Steve had shared it with you.

While this was just a conversation to kill time while your hazy brain too vainly tried to come up with a way out of this mess, it was more than you had ever talked. More than you would ever talk in the future, probably. If you lived long enough for the future lasted for longer than another few hours.

You had right to feel like weeping, you thought briefly, to feel like someone had reached for the rug under your feet and tugged, causing you to hit the floor hard; but you had no right to feel an unfamiliarly powerful tug of longing for things that wouldn’t come. And yet you felt it anyway.

You were more than ready for this whole insanity of Hydra captivity to end – one way or the other. And yet, there was an unfairly large part of you, circling around your heart, that wished some things to linger. The delicate bond you and Steve had threaded together over the past few hours was precious beyond anything, as palpable as the wall between you.

Precious things never lasted.

And you already missed it.

You should never get attached, it was the number one rule, but you were the troublemaker sometimes, weren’t you?

When you spoke again, you hoped the sudden acute dullness in your ribcage couldn’t be heard in your voice.

“That’s fair,” you echoed his words, a brief intangible image of his smile flashing in front of your eyes.

He had to be smiling, right? It seemed-

Your heart leaped into your throat, back straightening as the sound of multiple footsteps coming from behind your door reached your momentarily enhanced ears despite the ever-present low whooshing of blood in your temples.

“Steve-“ you whispered tightly, and that was how far you got before the lock was rattling and people started flowing into your cell. People, plural.

A man in an obnoxiously luxury suit. A three-man army with confidence of men with enough firepower to have a back-up weapon of a back-up weapon, Mr. Hydra Douche With A Twitchy Finger included. A man with a briefcase, in a telling white lab coat.

Instinctively, before you could think better of it, you scooted closer to the wall, instantly regretting it as a jolt of pain shot up your aching legs – and as a ghost a smile passed over the Mr. Hydra Douche’s otherwise blank face.

You swore that if you got your hands on him-

“Morning, Agent. Or should I say afternoon? How are we doing?” the man in the suit – clearly the Head Douche – asked with feigned politeness and had your gaze not moved back towards the doctor, you would have felt like spitting on him just for that. But it had.

And you recognized the man in white. You had seen him before, you were sure of it, despite the light fog wrapping around your brain tighter with every passing second of your heart racing.

You had met him at the Tower, you had no doubt about that and the fact alone caused goosebumps to rise on your arms, your stomach somersaulting.

You didn’t know his name; if someone asked about him, you probably wouldn’t have been able to describe him. He wasn’t any kind of conspicuous, yet he was here. He wasn’t memorable –then again, that was the point of undercover, wasn’t it? That was the mission of double-faced assholes. Be bright enough to get hired to the Avengers Initiative; be the right amount of ordinary to fit among all the extraordinary minds of the scientific department as to not stand out.

If you had enough strength to stand up, you’d punch his fucking teeth out.

“You fucking son of a bitch,” was what you settled for, earning a half-smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Rich, coming from the daughter of the ultimate All Work No Play Bitch,” he replied calmly, the vindictive tone like a slap to your face, causing you to recoil further.

That, and the mention of your mother.

You did not disagree with his assessment, you supposed; but she was your mother. Was she with them? Was she not – and had the hurt her?

Bile rose up your throat at the idea of either of those being true. It shouldn’t have – you didn’t care, you shouldn’t care, not anymore, god knew she certainly didn’t – but it sent a violent shiver down your spine anyway. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to supress the tremble.

Fuck him. Fucking fuck Hydra as a whole.

“Now, now, no need to call anyone names…” Mr. Head Douche said, even as he seemed rather amused by your exchange. “We have more important matters at hand. Doctor Barret?”

A low voice sharp enough to cut steel spoke before the doctor could take a single step in your direction, causing your heart to skip a startled beat even as it spoke in your favour; even as it was Steve.

“Leave her alone.”

The suited man briefly looked as if behind you, a supposedly pleasant smile on his lips that came out as a sleazy one, condescending. It made your hair stand on its end. Then again, this whole room, this whole situation had done good enough job of that already.

“Patience, Captain. We will deal with you in a minute. No need to be jealous about your inferior getting the bigger company.”

Your gaze snapped up, alarm bells ringing for two reasons.

Steve wasn’t alone either.

And you were the one to get the welcoming wagon.

Why? Why you first?

You weren’t a complete idiot; Steve was the more valuable one in terms of intel and strategy. He was the one with supersoldier serum they had been trying to neutralize, even as now they could probably poke both of you like lab rats and get some ‘intriguing’ results for sure.

So why you?

Saving the best for the last? Did they think you were weaker, that you’d crack more easily? Did it have anything to do with you being Inhuman? Did it have anything to do with you being the one, momentarily, in whom the serum effects were manifested? Why-

When the man met your gaze again, calculating, it felt like an icy liquid injected straight into your veins, realization slamming into you with full force along with your panic skyrocketing.

You were the leverage.

They could probe you all the wanted, they could punch and kick and cut, and they would torture Steve – because they knew enough to realize he would not want it on his conscience, not him of all people, not after they had watched you interact – and they wouldn’t have to as much as touch their more valuable prisoner.

Your gaze involuntarily flickered towards the briefcase in Barret’s hand as he stepped closer to you, your chest suddenly too tight to breathe in.

Don’t let them see. Don’t let them see that you’re scared.

You weren’t naïve enough to think you managed to hold face despite the anxious chant in your head.

The boss beckoned wordlessly to two of his brainless henchmen as Barret set the briefcase down, opening it with the lid towards you, obscuring whatever was in from your vision; but it wasn’t necessary.

You were too busy gulping and measuring the two men who approached you and stood each by your side in a blink of an eye, large greedy hands already reaching out.

“Don’t touch me-“ you blurted out, hands curling into fists in an instant to ready yourself to what would probably be a pathetic fight but still a fight.

They gripped your biceps in a vice and pulled you up to your feet before your weary sweat-soaked body could take a single swing at them, holding you upright with your feet barely touching the ground.

And then one of them kicked the back of your knees the same moment they dropped you low enough to force you stand, sending you instantly to the ground due to the weakness in your legs, their hands but a thin rope keeping you from falling face-down on the floor.

The majority on your weight landed on your knees. The rest was held up by your thighs.

Your agonized cry got drowned in the blinding pain seizing your body, tears springing from your eyes as you felt like you were going to be torn from inside out.

An agonizing déjà-vu; except now you had no strength left to keep your pain for yourself.

It hurt. Goddamn fucking Jesus, it hurt, pain consuming all your senses, only leaving space for vague awareness of the dull sounds of Steve’s protests and loud cries of metal as he vainly fought his bound again.

Bless his soul, he was not about to give up even when it was clear there was no other option but that left.

You wished you were that strong.

As you hungrily gasped for air, Steve’s efforts having fallen silent upon a promise of catching another bullet, you blinked your eyes open. Vision blurry with tears, you noticed the doctor had put on thick lab gloves – and was now holding a part of the Kree artifact.

Of fucking course.

Through the white-hot pain still gripping at your brain, your felt a tiny part of you sigh in relief. You supposed it could be worse than being about to get exposed to the effects of the artifact; then again, at least knives and needles were predictable enough. You had no idea what this thing would do now. Send the powers back to their rightful owner? Pass them on? Or take them altogether, somehow absorbing them?

“Fantastic, fascinating thing, isn’t it? We knew the item would be valuable as soon as it appeared on the auction list, but to have such unforeseen properties… had we known, we could have saved ourselves a lot of work,” the boss pondered out loud, tilting his head to side a bit when you grinded your teeth and tried to meet his insane eyes even as your head was spinning and it was hard to focus on anything.

“What work?” you hissed, biting your tongue hard when one of the asshole henchmen tugged at your arm a bit, sending a fresh wave of undiluted agony through your wounds.

You didn’t know where you found the will to ask. You doubted he’d take the bait. But if you were about to pass out from pain and blood loss alike, you might as well be useful to Steve and whoever was hopefully coming to the rescue – and collect your body – eventually.

“That might be the oldest trick in the book, Agent. Tempting the supposed villain to reveal his plans… but frankly, I think you should know, if for nothing than for appreciating my genius,” he boasted, so smug and proud of himself you wanted to tell him to bite you.

But knowing Hydra were goddamn lunatics, you didn’t, because he might do exactly that – and you were not interested.

God, your head was spinning. You were sure that one rapid movement and you’d throw up.

“By all fucking means.”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly amused. Fuck him.

“…cute. You see, you wouldn’t believe how troublesome you can be, Agent,” he said, causing your breath to catch in your throat and your thready thoughts to scatter. Huh? “We really counted on all of you to be much more capable, but in the end, forgive me, you especially turned out to be a real pain in the ass. A real disappointment.”

It was absurd – the most absurd thing of all, you supposed, despite the past hours being a complete funhouse – but being called a disappointment, by a Hydra lunatic, felt like a blow to your solar plexus, shame filling every ounce of your being for a moment.

How utterly useless a person had to be for a Hydra lowlife to find you disappointing, for whichever reason he was cryptically referring to? It truly felt like you hit a new low.

And yet. A defiant smirk somehow found a way to your lips, however weak, a little piece of pride at having made their lives complicated, even if unwittingly.

“My pleasure,” you said, pointedly ignored.

“The data was right there. You had them in your grasp and then you failed to deliver them to your base of operation. Doctor Banner’s and his team’s contributions to our uncomplete attempts to develop the antiserum would have been invaluable.”

…what?

“I mean, their motives for researching the scraps we left behind would obviously be of the purest nature, retracing the ‘big bad Hydra’s’ steps, developing the very antiserum we were working on themselves in order to find an antidote to it, believing we already had the substance in possession. And we’d have it delivered, a sample and a formula, developed and perfected by them. It was brilliant. They could have done all the work, found the solution we needed. But no. The data was planted for you team to find, the perfect bait… and you had to go and muck it up, didn’t you, Agent Spectre?”

Blank.

Your mind turned blank.

Your jaw had fallen slack, ears filling with a strange static noise growing louder and louder with every word he said. And yet you could hear him perfectly clearly, hear him paint an image so bizarre you would have had trouble comprehending it had you been entirely healthy, let alone when missing around two pints of blood.

The reality he described felt everything but real – but it made sense. Despite the plan being absolutely insane, it made sense. And you had to give it to him, it indeed was irritatingly brilliant.

But at the sae time, you could have laughed at the irony, downright wheeze at the cosmic sense of humour.

The data. They had planted the data which you had felt so desperately useless for having lost, the ones you and Steve had fought about.

The blankness of your mind was replaced by a rapid fire of thoughts, even as they seemed to come too slow as seconds ticked by and you were holding your breath in anticipation of his laughter, anticipation of his revealing he was just pulling your leg for laughs, a confirmation you had somehow misunderstood, .

But it didn’t come.

Because it was the truth.

You had messed up, but in a different way than you thought. Not by failing to deliver the drive. They had wanted you to find the files and deliver them; and you had taken the bait like a stupid goose, your instinct to protect the team, Steve in particular, flaring up.

Failing to deliver the flash drive had actually been a good thing. Because otherwise you would have helped Hydra to have the scientists with the AI do Hydra’s work for them instead of just offering vague scraps which doctor Banner and others could barely work with.

Screw exchanging powers, screw the existence of an artifact that caused the switch; THIS was a large mindfuck you weren’t sure you could ever wrap your head around.

Your failure had meant Hydra’s failure. And Steve, precious annoying Steve, having snapped you back before you could have delivered the intel, had actually been a hindrance in Hydra’s evil plans as well. He had been angry with you for taking a risk, he had cared, and so he had broken your concentration for it and you had thought that it meant he thus put himself at risk – but in fact, he had unwittingly got himself further from getting caught in Hydra’s bullshit.

You were stunned.

And rendered entirely speechless with both awe and absolute horror.

“Is that your impressed face, Agent? I can’t quite tell with all the panting for air and smudged black-tie worthy make-up,” the boss hummed mockingly.

You kept absently staring at the Hydra pin on the lapel of his suit, your mind still racing and trying to fathom the things that could have happened and hadn’t.

Hydra didn’t have an antiserum. They had wanted the AI to figure out what they couldn’t. They wanted to hurt Steve in a most effective and most painful way possible, no doubt. And you could have delivered that opportunity to them on a silver platter. You had almost assisted to Steve getting hurt, even more than he was now.

The idea made your ribcage feel tighter.

Fresh panic filled it instead of air when you realized that Steve was quiet, again. He had been quiet for a while now.

Why was he quiet?

You strained your ears despite the loud frantic thump-thump-thump of your own heart echoing in your head, slightly relieved you could still hear his ragged breaths.

“Well, that plan is obviously in the past now. We have something much more effective – a way to take all your powers, hopefully, and maybe even replicate them. Bless the Kree.”

Fuck the Kree, was your thought, but you bit your tongue.

Only when Doctor Barret took the other part of his artifact in his hand as well and rose to his feet, eyes unmistakably set on you, you realized how terrifyingly still everything and everyone had been. Almost robotic. Perfectly obedient; perfectly compliant with Hydra Head Douche’s wishes.

Had he made them comply? The brainwashing program? Was that what awaited you after?

Barret barely took a single step towards you. You immediately tried to move backwards, meeting the unrelenting resistance of the men who held you instead.

The only thing you managed was causing yourself more pain, the grip on your arms growing strong enough to bruise.

“Well, we’re nothing if flexible,” the Head Douche hummed, shrugging almost jovially as the other Trigger-Happy Hydra Douche stepped closer to you as well. “You see, it looks like now we have two supersoldiers now and that changes the game completely too. Generations of scientists thought replicating the serum’s effects was impossible – Doctor Banner being one of the few who live to tell the tale, but your DNA is… vastly different to the Captain’s and yet. You carry his abilities now – and he carries yours, without your bodies visibly changing. I wonder… if we start probing you, we could have a whole new set of data on how to synthetise it...”

You gulped. You had worried about them reviving Daniel Whitehall’s program of brainwashing people to make anyone do Hydra’s bidding; but the mention of the doctor’s other favourite pastime had a shiver ran down your spine.

You hear a soft rattle of chains and you knew Steve was fighting hard to do anything – and then there was quiet again, sharp one at that. Your heart hammered against your chest. Did he pass out now?!

Steven Grant Rogers, you open your eyes right fucking now or so help me god-

“And we can actually have Captain Rogers’ samples, even if tainted by your own… mutation? There are so many questions to be answered. I wonder… if I simply take this, and have you touch the other part, will that make me a supersoldier, just like that? A game of hot potato, so to speak? Is it that simple? To think we went through all that trouble and all we needed was a piece of an alien rock… or is it genetics too? How can we only find out, huh?”

You just glared, forcing your muscles to stop the tremble the man’s words fought to leave in their wake.

Somehow, the fact theydidn’t have a single idea what would be their next best step was so much worse than the opposite, bile rising in the back of your throat and burning.

They’d do anything to get their answers. They’d do everything.

And you were alone.

“Our brightest minds have been analysing this extraordinary piece of work for the past hours and came up with nothing conclusive, nothing that would tell us what will happen…” he said, eyeing you thoughtfully, beckoning to the Trigger-Happy Douche, who put on a single glove himself, taking one part of the artifact from the doctor without his skin making contact. There was no glow to the metal yet; neither of these men were Inhuman, apparently. Then again… were you? Still? “So we must resort to the old-fashioned trial and error, it appears. I wonder if the transfer will be complete… if we take that power from you right now, before you can heal, will it be lights out for you, darling?”

Your heart seized in your chest, the rest of your body outside your control; you attempted to tug yourself free despite the roar of pain it caused, not moving an inch.

That was one option you hadn’t considered yet. If it was this simple, as the Hydra Head Douche just said, if he stole the healing factor from you, you’d— right away. You had lost too much blood already, you had no doubt.

You’d be dead before you could as much as breathe in once.

The shudder that ran down your spine was violent and rattled your bones; you had no strength to stop it.

‘Will it be lights out for you, darling?’

You closed your eyes; and then there was a frustrated sound from behind the wall and you snapped them back open, a blissful flicker of relief.

Not unconscious, apparently. Good.

And then it finally dawned to you, the reason for Steve’s silence; and it made spite rise in your gut along with anger and completely unfair fondness.

Steve Rogers was still fighting; he was still fighting to help despite his unbreakable bounds. He was trying to focus and project, even though the pain.

He truly was stronger and more determined than the entirety of SHIELD together, wasn’t he? If he was about to go down – and you prayed he wouldn’t, you prayed he’d get home somehow, back-up arriving just in time for him to survive somehow – he’d go down fighting, taking as many Hydra lunatics as possible. He deserved so much better than he was getting. He deserved and needed you to get your shit together.

You weren’t dead yet.

There might not be hope left, but that didn’t mean you had to go down without a fight. If you’d die trying to make these bastards lives a little bit more miserable than they were, you could not only take fear and regrets to the grave, but also a fair amount of satisfaction.

You lifted your gaze to the Head Douche’s face with gritted teeth, eyes hard. You hoped.

“Nah, I hope not,” the man mused, eyes following Doctor Barret who now approached you with the other half of the artifact. His eyebrow rose along with your awe, as the artifact lit up with uncomfortably familiar symbols in your proximity. Still an Inhuman, it seemed, at least in body. Still capable of being a pain in the ass. “That would be sad, wouldn’t it? We’d like you to tell us how exactly your abilities work. Even if the Captain seemed to get a hang of it pretty quickly…”

“He’s trying to do it again, I think,” sounded from behind the wall, the new voice startling you despite your determination and making your stomach drop.

Hydra might have been reduced in numbers, but sadly grew in brainpower, apparently. Fuck them.

“Tsk-tsk,” the Head Douche licked his tongue, extending a hand towards the doctor, stepping to you himself. “That’s not wise. We don’t want to waste any more bullets, do we…? Really, SHIELD and Avengers need to work on teaching their agents not to get attached. It makes you all so weak.”

The gun was out of a holster you had missed earlier and aimed at your forehead before you could as much as startle.

And then the safety of it clicked, your view of the man’s face partly obscured by his hand and metal, forefinger firmly resting against the trigger.

Your heart jumped to your throat; your determination bled out of your body in an instant, horror replacing it.

One minuscule movement and you’d be dead.

It didn’t matter if you’d miraculously survived the power switch, if there would be no power exchange at all, since no one knew how the artifact worked, not really. For all you knew, it could have had a mind of its own, you had seen a monolith that changed into liquid seemingly at whim before, you had seen too much insane to believe you knew anything at all.

But that didn’t really matter anyway, did it?

You had thought so many times in the past hours that you would never seen the world outside of this cell, that you’d meet your end here – but it had never felt as tangible as the cold muzzle of the man’s gun hovering an inch from your head.

“Let’s make one thing clear, Captain. You try to project again and each of you gets a bullet. Equality is a virtue, after all, isn’t it,” he announced rather than asked, voice flat all the same as he threatened and mocked what Steve had fought for even since the damn 1940’s. “But I feel like I should inform you that the gun is aimed at Agent Spectre’s head, ready to make her open her third eye to eternity.”

You winced at the imagery and squeezed your eyes shut, a ghost of pain you had never felt circling at the centre of your forehead already.

“Where should we aim at the Captain’s body, what do you think, Agent Spectre?”

“Steve, please stop.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could think twice, quiet and shockingly calm to your own ears.

And even more surprising was the soft sound of metal and fabric as Steve shifted and a single deep ragged breath of his – and the silence that settled after.

He listened to you.

It was as scary as soothing.

You’d get to live a few more moments. And hopefully, he wouldn’t get punished by another gunshot wound. It was a little naïve to believe Hydra would have had any morals and wouldn’t shoot him just to prove a point, but a girl could hope and send a last wish, right?

You had two of those. For Steve to survive and be okay. And for every single person who was in this room with you to suffer unimaginable pain. You weren’t as virtuous as Steve was; had it been a little more realistic than it was, you’d have even wished for you being the one who would be the cause of it too.

The gun lowered minutely, the safety clicking back on, the softest shift of the air telling you the Head Douche let his arm fall to his side. You allowed yourself to breathe in shakily, eyes fluttering open despite your eyelashes growing heavy with tears.

“Touching,” the man commented, unimpressed. “I guess the other shoulder will do then, Mitch. Be ready. Now, as for you, darling, you just stay still. I believe it’s time to proceed. After all, discovery requires experimentation.”

Another violent shudder rocked your body as you recognized the words; the man smiled slightly, a twinkle of vicious glee in his hard gaze when he noticed.

A fire of rage lit up every achy cell in your body.

Asshole. Revelling in suffocating people with fear. Smiling when he had his henchmen to do his dirty work. Feeling so powerful with brainless goons to protect him and do his bidding. The perfect stereotypical bully, all the worse for Nazis being his divine inspiration.

You had no chance of overpowering him whatsoever and he had aimed a gun at you just a few seconds ago and yet, you couldn’t but spit the words burning on your tongue, disgust dripping from your tone despite being aware you truly shouldn’t poke the bear. Or the ancient strange octopus they worshiped for that matter.

“You really should lay off reading all that Reinhardt’s crap.”

The Head Douche cocked his head to side, one corner of his lips rising as he stepped away to make space for Doctor Barret and the glowing artifact.

“That’s doctor Reinhardt to you, Agent Spectre,” he corrected you, the dark glee in his face shining brighter. “He was quite the visionary. I’m glad you’re familiar with his work. Because if this simple exchange doesn’t work as we hope, we’ll move on to his methods. I heard the last Inhuman he had in his care, while still carrying the name you just used, ended up in so many pieces they had trouble reconstructing her body to stitch her up. They barely succeeded, even with her regenerative abilities… I think bleeding out from bullet wounds would be the merciful route for you, wouldn’t it?”

You weren’t proud of it, not in the slightest. But as panic slammed into you, you trembled, your lower lip wobbling.

You had heard the story of Jiaying. An Inhuman who had fascinated Reinhardt, or Doctor Whitehall, as he had been known later. At the death’s doorstep himself, he had been freed from SHIELD’s prison and got his chance to finally examine the woman who hadn’t aged. To experiment. To cut her open, taking a sample of anything he could, and another and another, eventually succeeding at reversing his own aging process.

And dumping the remnants of her body, only for her husband to stitch her up; ironically, for both her to become a villain just as bad.

You supposed Head Douche had a point after all. A bullet would be a mercy, even as that was hardly a pleasant option.

You had no doubt they would shoot you one more time the second they’d find out they stole Steve’s power.

Then again, maybe they would take great joy in seeing you die slowly and in pain, digging into your wounds for fun and took a few samples anyway, in the name of science, despite already getting what they wanted. That was the kind of fuckery Hydra did, didn’t they?

And then, they would do the same with Steve.

But if he was the second, that meant he had more time. And by then, the backup might finally arrive.

The glow of the artifact felt warm, even as the metal still hadn’t touched you; an undeniable reminder of who you were. What you were.

Last flare of fight rippled through you, but it was gone just as fast.

You’d be too slow. You could eliminate the henchmen who held you, maybe, if you pushed hard through the pain, but they were still gunshot wounds. You had already seen and felt the results of standing up, the damage to the muscles too severe. And even if you by some miracle managed to get rid of the doctor too, there were still two other people, both of them with a clearly twitchy finger. Anything less than superspeed combined with superstrength was useless.

You were useless.

You closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you whispered, trying your best to block your hearing so you wouldn’t hear his reaction, whatever it might be.

You didn’t want to leave this world hearing his disappointment. You had had enough of it throughout your whole life. You were ashamed enough all on your own, but you didn’t have any strength, will, or chance to keep fighting.

So you slowly breathed in and out, vainly trying to relax as you felt the artifact pulse near your cheek, and you accepted your fate.

Had Steve been in your place, he wouldn’t have – you were sure of it. But you weren’t him. Despite what he had said, unlike him, you were only human. And the fact was that even if you did somehow neutralize everyone in the room, Mitch and whoever was in Steve’s cell would just… neutralize Steve.

And you couldn’t have that.

You squeezed your eyes tighter, feeling your body shake even as you tried not to give them the satisfaction of seeing you scared. You cursed the lonely tears rolling down your cheeks. You sent a quick prayer to whatever messed up God listening.

And then you realized it wasn’t you who was shaking.

It was the ground.

And it wasn’t shaking – it was quaking.

In your mind’s eye, you smiled and then laughed – hysterically. These assholes should quiver in their boots. They had no idea what force of nature was about to hit them.

Agent Daisy Johnson had been a force to reckon with even since she had joined; but Quake would take them by storm.

Or more precisely, by an earthquake.

“What the-“

Before you could let the relief envelop you, a deafening noise swept over the room, the wave of sheer power seemingly shattering your bones.

When darkness pulled you under, it was with a weak, but real smile on your face.

Next chapter

Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist

That’s right, folks, Quake is coming 👀

This chapter took a long time and I'm aware... life's been happening (and not always in a good way) and this chapter was a long one and heavy one to write, despite the oy it brought me. Please, consider leaving a comment if you can - let me know your thoughts, I love reading them!

FYI, I couldn’t resist Quake making an appearance and I couldn’t resist the heart to heart over the wall, it was actually one of the scenes I’ve had written down first along with the screaming match at the beginning of the series 🥹

I hope March is kind to you 💕

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #shield agent reader #agent reader #inhuman reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #back and forth #anika ann

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