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merrybloomwrites · 1 year

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You Can Start a Family (Extra: Sickfic Part 1)

Summary: Y/N gets sick and Mitch, Sarah, and Harry take turns doting on her.

Previous Chapters: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

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Grabbing extra blankets, you bundle deep under the covers of your otherwise empty bed. You hope that your cats will join you soon so you’re not completely alone.

It’s not like you have other people in bed with you every single night. Since you started dating Mitch and Sarah earlier in the year, and added Harry to the relationship three months prior, you’ve spent a decent amount of time alone. One might think that wouldn’t be the case with two boyfriends and a girlfriend, but they’re busy people.

Harry has been writing his next album, traveling twice for writing retreats with his collaborators to minimize distractions. On top of that he’s had meetings, photoshoots, and other projects that require him to be away from you for days at a time.

Meanwhile, Mitch’s album had dropped just a couple weeks prior, and he and Sarah were busy promoting that.

All in all, you were very used to sleeping alone. But for some reason you were really missing them tonight. They had all been home for just three days before they had to fly out to Los Angeles to prepare and rehearse for Harryween.

It had been a somewhat last-minute decision to actually do Harryween this year, since tour had ended a few months before. But the venue was open and most of the band was available, and they knew tickets would sell out immediately, so they decided to pull the trigger and go for it.

That meant that they needed to fit in all of the prep work the week right before Halloween, leaving you alone at home for days. They had left Sunday morning, and since it’s now Tuesday, it’s your third night without them.

You only need to make it until Thursday, and Mitch will be back for a couple of meetings, and then you’ll fly to LA with him for the two shows at the start of the following week.

Knowing that it’s only two more lonesome nights would normally help you, but for some reason you just feel so alone tonight. The bed feels too big and empty and cold. You are cold, freezing, bone deep cold. It isn’t even that chilly out, a mild fall evening.

It’s early to get in bed, not even 9 PM, but you feel exhausted. You wish you could just call them, but you know with the 3-hour time difference that they’re definitely still rehearsing, probably not even taking their dinner break for another hour.

You settle for playing their music, your go to when you just need to hear their voices to feel them close to you. It doesn’t take long before you fall asleep.

The blaring alarm wakes you the next morning, and even though you slept over nine hours, you’re still tired. You go to say good morning to the cats who joined you at some point in the night, and your voice comes out groggy. You clear your throat which only leads to a coughing fit. It doesn’t last long, and you’re fine while you get ready for work, so you figure it was probably just a tickle and not a big deal.

Wednesday is the same as Tuesday, most of your days truly blending together. You take a bath after dinner, hoping it will help the new aches in your joints that bothered you all afternoon, and you nearly fall asleep in the water. If it weren’t for your phone ringing, you definitely would have been out cold within a minute.

You dry your hands and grab the phone, checking who it is before answering.

“Hello,” you say, and notice your voice once again sounds a little rough.

“Hi love,” Sarah replies. “I’ve only got a minute, but I wanted to check in. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

“What are you up to?”

“Decided to relax tonight, currently taking a bath.”

“Is that so? Wish we could facetime,” Sarah says cheekily.

You laugh at how forward she can sometimes be and reply, “Get your mind out of the gutter Jones!”

“I know, I just wish I could see my beautiful girl.” You blush at these words as she continues, “How are you? You sound a little hoarse.”

“Yea, I’m okay. Not sure why I sound like this. It happened this morning and just came back. Maybe it’s allergies, the ragweed is pretty bad this time of year.”

“Okay, well just let me know if you get worse. Maybe do a covid test to be safe?”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll do one in the morning before Mitch comes home. Last thing I want is to spread something to you guys before the shows next week.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she reassures. “But always good to check.”

You’re about to ask how she and the others are doing, see if she could put Harry and Mitch on the call for a minute but before you can ask, she says, “Oh, I’ve got to go, we’re starting again. There’s a new transition that we’re struggling with a bit, so we’ve got to work on that more.”

“You guys will get it, you’re the most talented band out there.”

“Thank you, my love. Sleep well tonight, let me know how you’re feeling in the morning.”

“I will keep you posted. I love you.”

“I love you too. Good night.”

“Good night,” you say, and the call is ended.

You sit for a moment, your apartment feeling extra quiet again. It takes all of your energy to get out of the tub and finish getting ready for bed. It’s difficult to adjust to the cool air after the hot bath, and you quickly burrow into the pile of blankets you left on the bed, sighing in relief at the warmth they offer. Like the previous night you play music and immediately fall asleep.

The alarm is even louder than usual the next morning, and it hurts to open your eyes. You go to sit up and realize that everything in your body hurts. You take a deep breath to collect yourself, but that has the opposite effect. The second you breathe in you begin to cough, and it feels like minutes pass before you get it under control.

Forcing yourself out of bed you remember the conversation with Sarah the previous night and decide the first thing to do is take a covid test. You do that and as you wait the 15 minutes for the result you make a cup of tea and get dressed. You’re not sure yet if you’re going to call out sick. As a nanny to a toddler, the last thing you want to do is go to work sick and pass it on to the child. You choose to wait for the test results before deciding.

The timer goes off and you see that it’s negative. You call Beth, the mom you work for, and fill her in, letting her decide if she’s comfortable with you being around her son that day.

After telling her your symptoms she says, “I’m okay with you being around Ryan, but if you’re not feeling well, you should stay home. Take a sick day and rest. I know it’s exhausting taking care of a toddler when you’re not under the weather, and much worse when you are.”

“I’m really not that bad,” you reply. It’s not a complete lie, you already feel slightly better than when you first got up. You had taken a pain reliever and it was helping your achy joints, plus you had only had one more minor coughing fit. You assure Beth that you’re well enough to work and that you’ll see her soon.

She fusses over you slightly when you get to her house, mothering you a bit to make sure you’re not worse than you say you are.

“Call me if you need anything. I can get a substitute or Michael can work from home and watch Ryan.”

“I will, I promise,” you say, locking the door behind her as she leaves.

You feel fine all morning, nothing more than a slight cough. Ryan takes an excellent nap halfway through the day, and you make the mistake of laying on the couch during it. The baby monitor is right next to you, ensuring that you’ll hear Ryan when he wakes up, and the white noise coming through the monitor lulls you into a light sleep.

Beth has told you before that it’s okay if you rest while he’s napping but you normally never do. Today though, you can’t fight it and your eyes slip shut.

After nearly three hours Ryan’s babbling wakes you up. It’s immediately obvious that your short nap was a bad idea, and you feel awful as you get off of the couch. Checking the time, you note that Beth will be home in two hours and tell yourself you can push through to the end of the day, maybe with a little help from Bluey.

You’re relieved when Beth walks through the door, having gotten worse throughout the afternoon. She again dotes on you as only a mother can and tells you to take off the next day. You try to protest, since you’re already planning to be out for days the following week to travel to LA, but she won’t hear it.

“I will see you next Thursday. Not tomorrow. Rest. Get better so you can enjoy your boyfriend’s show.”

You smile and thank her before driving home. The second you enter your apartment you take off your shoes and climb into your bed. You don’t realize that you’ve fallen asleep until you jerk awake hearing the door open. You’re confused, and worried that someone is breaking in, but a moment later you hear Mitch calling out your name.

You try to shout out to him and let him know where you are, but as soon as you open your mouth you begin to cough. It’s even worse than the fit you’d had in the morning and Mitch rushes into the room, immediately rubbing your back to soothe you.

Finally, you start to catch your breath and you turn, curling into Mitch’s embrace as he wraps his arms around you.

“What’s wrong baby? Sarah said you didn’t sound great last night but this is worse than I expected.”

“It wasn’t this bad yesterday. It wasn’t even this bad when I got home earlier. I feel like shit.”

“What do you need?” he asks.

“I don’t know. This is helping though,” you say referring to him holding you. He squeezes you tighter for a moment and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

For a few minutes you stay like this until another coughing fit wracks your body. Mitch again rubs your back, his touch calming you even as you struggle to breathe. When you’re done coughing, he shifts so he can get off of the bed.

“Don’t leave, please,” you say, grabbing on to him.

“I just want to check if you have any medicine, I’ll be right back.”

“Please,” you say, refusing to let go if his arm. Deep down you know that you’re being clingy, but you can’t bring yourself to care in that moment.

“Okay, c’mere,” he says and gestures for you to wrap your limbs around him. Once you’re secure he carries you with him to the bathroom and places you down on the closed toilet lid. He opens the closet door and takes out the box of different medications you have in there.

“Have you taken anything yet?” he asks.

“I took some Tylenol earlier today, but it’s been a while.”

“Nothing for the cough?”

“No, it really wasn’t that bad before.”

“Okay, here, take this,” he says, handing you the small cup filled with cough syrup. You do as you’re told and he takes out the thermometer, holding it up to your head.

It beeps a moment later and he says, “Definitely a low-grade fever. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve had the chills, and I guess body aches.”

“Alright, you said it’s been a while since you had Tylenol?”

“Yea, I only took it this morning.”

“Here’s another dose, it’ll help with everything else.”

You take the medicine as instructed, too tired to even think and grateful that you have someone there to tell you what you need to do.

“Have you eaten today?” Mitch asks.

“Yea, I had a sandwich for lunch,” you answer.

“But no dinner?”

You shake your head no.

“Okay,” he replies. “I’m going to heat up some soup for us. Do you want to wait in bed or come with me?”

“With you,” you reply, holding out your arms so he’ll carry you again. He smiles at how adorable sick you is, and he picks you up with ease, loving having you in his arms.

He places you on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island and you rest your head on your arms as he gets food ready. Normally you’d be asking him how his flight was, how rehearsals had been going all week, but instead you just rest your eyes, comforted by the sounds of another person in the apartment with you for the first time in days.

A few minutes later Mitch places a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of you. He sits on the stool next to yours with his own bowl and puts a sleeve of crackers between you two. You lift your head up and thank him before starting to eat. You’re feeling a little better now that the medicine has had time to work, and you’re able to finish your dinner.

As soon as you and Mitch are both done eating you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Bedtime?” he asks, and you nod your head yes.

He cleans up the dishes and the two of you head to the bathroom to get ready. You lean against Mitch as you brush your teeth, too tired to stand on your own. He keeps a firm arm around you, making sure you don’t fall, and leads you into the bedroom.

Once you’re both in bed you immediately move to lay on top of him, needing to be as close as possible.

“Is this okay?” you ask, and he replies, “Of course, baby. I’ve missed my human blanket.”

You smile and melt into the embrace, his arms wrapped around you, making you feel safer and more content than you have in days. It doesn’t take long before you once again fall into a deep sleep.

Mitch, however, stays awake for some time after you. It’s still fairly early, especially since he’s on west coast time. Once he’s sure you’re asleep he pulls out his phone, careful not to disturb you with his movement.

He sends a text in his group chat with Sarah and Harry, telling them about how sick you are. It’s obvious how worried they are in their replies and Mitch assures them that he plans to take you to the doctor in the morning if you’re not feeling better.

The moment he wakes up the next day he can tell something is wrong. He feels like he’s in an oven and he immediately realizes the heat is coming off of your body as you lay sprawled on him. Carefully he reaches over to the side table and picks up the thermometer to see what your temperature is.

He grimaces as it beeps loudly in the quiet room, but you remain asleep. He checks what it says and grows more worried. While yesterday you had a mild fever, it’s much higher now. Just as he puts the thermometer back down you suddenly wake up coughing.

Mitch helps you sit upright so you can breathe easier, and after it passes he hands you a glass of water, encouraging you to take small sips.

Your whole body is aching, and a violent shiver shoots through you.

“Baby, I think you should get checked by someone today, okay?”

You want to refuse, saying it’s not that bad, but you don’t have the energy to fight so you simply nod to agree.

The start of the morning is hazy. You and Mitch shower together so he can help you and make sure you don’t slip in your weakened state. You get dressed and throw your damp hair up into a bun and join Mitch in the kitchen for breakfast. A shower and food have done you some good, and you’re feeling more alert. You make an appointment with a doctor, happy to see an opening in just an hour.

Mitch insists on cancelling his morning meeting to go with you, but you tell him you’ll be fine. He concedes by just pushing it back a little bit so that he can drive you to your appointment.

As he drops you off he tells you for the hundredth time to text him with updates and let him know when you need to be picked up, reassuring you that he can leave his meeting if he needs to.

“I’ll be okay Mitch. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. I have for a while now.”

“I know you can, I just- we all just like to take care of you.”

“And I love that about the three of you. But I will be fine. Now go, I need to check in.” He grabs your hand for a moment and squeezes tightly before letting you go.

You go into the office and the woman at the front desk hands you the typical forms to fill out. After handing those back you wait for a little while, happy that you thought to bring a book. Focusing on that helps you not focus on how crappy you’re feeling.

Once in with the doctor you tell her your symptoms and she does her normal physical assessment.

“Well, there are a number of things this could be. We’ll test for covid, flu, strep. But, we’ve had a number of cases of fungal pneumonia recently, so I want to check you for that as well. Seems there could be something nearby that’s causing these infections.”

With that she sends you off to the lab next door where they do a number of tests, including a chest x-ray to know for sure what’s going on. You text Mitch to fill him in while you wait for the results.

You get called back into your doctor and she informs you that you do in fact have fungal pneumonia.

“I’m going to prescribe you itraconazole, an anti-fungal drug. You can continue taking cough medicine and acetaminophen to treat the symptoms of the infection.”

You nod to show you’re listening and ask, “Is it contagious?”

“No, fungal pneumonia is not contagious. To get it you need to come in contact directly with the spores. Did you visit the wetlands recently?”

“The one’s over near Creek Road?”

“Yes.”

“Yea, I went there Sunday afternoon. Why?”

“Most of the patients I’ve recently diagnosed with this have been there. There must be something on one of the trails that’s infecting people.”

You continue to nod, finding this mildly interesting. If you weren’t sick you’d probably find it fascinating, but you’re too tired to think about it too deeply. She asks about your hike, writing down the specific areas that you walked to send over to the rangers at the Wetlands so they can determine where the danger is.

“I’ve sent your prescription to the pharmacy you listed; it should be ready soon.”

“Thank you,” you say, and she leads you out of the room.

You sit in the waiting room and text Mitch that you’re done, and he tells you he’s outside, his meeting having finished a half hour prior.

The drive home is quiet, with a stop at the pharmacy to pick up your prescription. When you get back to the apartment you head straight for your bedroom, exhausted from the morning’s activities. Mitch joins you a few mimutes later, bringing lunch and your medicine with him.

He Facetimes Sarah as finish your food, and she and Harry answer. They ask how you’re feeling, and you shrug, too tired to come up with a full response. You take the medicine that Mitch gives you, and you fall asleep while they’re still on the phone, comforted by the sounds of their voices.

They stay on the call expressing their concern and Mitch assures them that he’s taking care of you. A few minutes later they hang up, and Mitch carefully cleans up lunch. He’s about to lay down next to you again when you wake up.

“Hey, how are you doing?” He asks.

“The same I guess. Don’t you have another meeting to be at?”

“Yea it’s in a little while, but I can cancel and stay home with you.”

“Mitch, really, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes I’m sure! Go, you’ve got important stuff to do.”

“You’re important,” he replies.

You nearly respond sarcastically but instead you find yourself blushing at his words. He leans down to kiss you, and you’re very grateful that you’re not contagious and can still do this when sick. It’s the first kiss you’ve shared with him since Sunday, and it feels like home.

He pulls away, pressing a kiss to your head and gets ready for his meeting. He checks in with you again before leaving and you reassure that you have everything you need and plan to stay in bed watching movies the whole time he’s gone. He walks out of the room and comes back a minute later, one of your cats under each of his arms. Mitch places them on the bed with you, gives you a final kiss and a “love you” and leaves the apartment.

Mitch is gone for a movie and a half, walking in partway through the 2nd live action Scooby Doo.

He sees what you’re watching and looks almost guilty.

“What?” you ask after seeing his expression.

“I was on the phone with Sarah and Harry while I drove home. They’re concerned about you traveling when you’re not feeling well.”

Your first instinct is to immediately reply that they’re being ridiculous, that you’ll be fine. But instead, you say, “We have 2 full days until the flight to LA. Let’s just play it by ear and decide on Sunday, okay?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” he replies.

“And even if I’m not better by then I could always just fly out Tuesday. You guys will look silly without your Daphne!”

“I still can’t believe you convinced us all to have Scooby Doo as the costumes for Harryween.”

“I can’t believe you chose to be Scrappy Doo.”

“Well Pauli already claimed Scooby. What was I supposed to do?”

“Pick a normal villain from the show, like everyone else?”

“But I wanted to be a dog for Halloween!” he practically whines as he plops in the bed next to you.

You smile fondly, loving when you got to see this side of him. You weave your fingers through his hair and you’re both quiet for the rest of the movie.

Mitch dotes on you for the rest of the weekend, insisting that you do nothing other than rest and get better. He prepares food, brings you your medicine, and carries you with him whenever you’re feeling particularly clingy.

While you hate being sick, you love the excuse to slow down for a few days. Everything is always so hectic for the four of you, and a weekend of nothing but cuddles on the couch with comfort movies and shows in the background is nearly perfect. It would be completely perfect if Sarah and Harry were also there. And if you didn’t still feel like crap.

You slowly got better, and by Sunday morning you were confident that the anti-fungal medicine was working, and you were officially on the mend. It took a lot of convincing the others, but by Sunday afternoon you and Mitch were seated next to each other flying back to Los Angeles.

It’s late when you land, and you go directly to Harry’s place. He and Sarah are waiting outside and rush to the car to help with your bags. The boys bring the luggage inside and Sarah wraps an arm around your waist and walks with you.

You spend the first few minutes there telling everyone repeatedly that you’re fine, just a bit tired. And you’re telling the truth. Your fever is gone, the chills and body aches going with it, and you have only a mild cough. Even if you hadn’t been sick the last couple days you’d be tired after traveling coast to coast.

That night you sleep in between Harry and Sarah, Mitch on Sarah’s other side knowing the other two needed to feel you close to them.

You wake up in the middle of the night, knowing you’re about to have another coughing fit, and try to sneak out of bed so you don’t wake anyone. Unfortunately, Sarah is wrapped around you so tightly that you can’t escape. You start to cough, turning into the pillow to try and muffle the sound but the others wake up anyway.

They all fuss over you, Sarah rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. Finally, you stop coughing, but you keep your face pressed into the pillow. You don’t want them to see the tears in your eyes, knowing how much more worried they’ll be if they see that. You can’t help it though, between the breathlessness and the chest pain the coughing brings, your eyes have no choice but to water.

You try to calm yourself with some deep breaths, but that just causes you to start coughing again. This time you turn into Sarah, needing the comfort her hold brings you.

“Sorry,” you eventually say. “I didn’t mean to wake everyone up.”

“Are you okay, love?” Harry asks. “That didn’t sound good at all.”

“I’m okay, my lungs are just a bit irritated.”

“Are you in any pain?” He questions. You know he’s very familiar with lung issues, having dealt with asthma in the past, and you know that he’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.

“My chest hurts a bit, but it’s really not that bad.”

He gives you a look, like he doesn’t believe you, so you hold his hand and say, “I promise, it’s not that bad. It’s already getting better.”

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you to him. You straddle his lap, tucking your face into his neck. You melt into his embrace, loving the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you. Even though you still feel sick, being surrounded by the three people you love fills you with warmth.

Somehow you fall asleep still sitting up with Harry holding you. When you wake up the next morning you’re still in that position. Harry is asleep beneath you, leaning back against the headboard.

The last thing you want is to wake him again, especially since there’s a show tonight. You open your eyes and see Mitch and Sarah are also sleeping, wrapped in each other’s arms. It’s a perfect start to the day, and you note that you feel much better than the last few days.

It’s not much later that everyone begins to stir. It’s already mid-morning but there’s enough time before they need to be at the venue, so no one is in any rush to get up. Sarah does demand that you switch to her lap, saying that everyone else has gotten more cuddles with you and it’s her turn. You go willingly; something about her soft embrace that comforts you immensely.

Eventually you do all get up to eat and shower before going together to the Forum. You stay backstage and get ready while they do soundcheck, wanting the set list to remain a surprise until the show. You love the group costume that was chosen for night 1, everyone dressing as their own version of Barbie or Ken, you included.

When the others get backstage they compliment you on your look and you smile bashfully at the attention. It’s a bit chaotic with everyone getting ready and having a quick dinner. Finally, you say good bye to the others, give Harry a kiss, and head to the floor to watch the show.

You don’t go out yet, knowing that the fans will notice you once you do, and you don’t want to give away the costume theme. As soon as the show officially begins you walk to the fenced off section for friends and family in the back of the pit.

You’re still not feeling 100%, and the lights and loud music are a bit disorienting, but you don’t let that show. This is your first time attending Harry’s concert as his official girlfriend, and you know that people are going to be watching you, judging you.

Even though you’re still a bit under the weather, you have a great time at the concert. You’re so happy that the set list was a surprise, and you know a fan nearby got your reaction to the start of Canyon Moon, one of your favorites that you hadn’t heard live before.

As always, harry puts on a perfect show. You love watching the fans and checking out all of their costumes. He does the whale to close out the concert and your face hurts from smiling so much. You feel exhausted, and look forward to getting home, but it was worth pushing through.

To no one’s surprise you fall asleep on Harry’s shoulder during the drive home. Sarah and Mitch are in a different car, since you had run out with Harry the second the show ended. You wake up at home, laying on the bed while Harry is taking your shoes off.

“Hi, lovey,” he says as you sit up, your legs dangling off the end of the bed with Harry standing between them. You reach your arms up, placing your hands on his face and gently pulling so he knows to lean down. As soon as he’s close enough you press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“Hi baby,” you say once you break the kiss. “You did great tonight.”

“Yea? Liked the show?”

“Loved it. Always do.”

He smiles at that, dimples popping out on each cheek. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good. Sleepy, but otherwise I feel fine.”

“That’s a relief,” he replies. “Hated seeing you sick. Hated knowing you were sick, and I couldn’t be there to make you feel better.”

“Well, I feel much better now. All healed up.”

He flashes his dazzling smile again, and you pull him in for another kiss.

“Let’s get ready for bed,” he says as he breaks the kiss a minute later.

The two of you are halfway through your nighttime routines when Mitch and Sarah get home. Before long the four of you are cuddled in bed, Harry quietly humming something that sounds oddly similar to “I’m Just Ken.”

The four of you go out the next morning since you want to see a bit of the city. They each choose a couple of their favorite spots to show you before you all need to get to the venue. You again get yourself ready as they do another quick soundcheck, one of the stylist’s helping you with the red wig you’ll need as Daphne.

Once Harry is in his Fred costume the two of you take some pictures together. Night 2 is the same as Night 1, except you’re a bit more worn out from walking through the city all morning. As much as you insist to the others that you’re not sick anymore, that’s not completely true. Your head is pounding by the end, and you feel slightly dizzy. On more than one occasion you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest, it’s racing so fast.

You do everything to keep a smile on your face and not show how you’re feeling. For the first time ever, you feel relieved when the show is over. You enjoyed it of course, but you can’t wait to lay down, which will hopefully stop the world from spinning.

You’re quiet on the drive home, but still able to hide your symptoms from Harry. Once home you get ready for bed, falling asleep before Mitch and Sarah even get back.

The next morning is slightly chaotic as the four of you need to be at the airport fairly early. It’s not until you’re all seated on the private plane that they pick up on the fact that you’re kind of out of it. You claim to just be tired, but you know that they don’t buy it and are all watching you closely.

You’re seated next to Sarah and fall asleep on her shoulder shortly into the flight. When you start to wake up a couple hours later you shift, tucking your face into her neck. Mitch catches Sarahs concerned face, asking, “What’s wrong?”

“She feels warm,” Sarah answers. She places her hand on the back of your neck, noting how hot your skin has become. The boys are both immediately worried, each reaching over to feel for themselves.

You lift your head up and give them all a look, silently asking why they’re all touching you.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks. “Be honest with us, please.”

You take a moment to assess before answering, “Kind of dizzy. And cold. And sore.”

“Anything else, love?” Sarah says.

“Maybe a bit nauseous? But not that bad, really.” Despite your insistence that you weren’t going to throw up, Mitch gets up to grab an airsick bag just in case.

“How long until we land?” he asks as he sits back down across from you.

“About an hour,” Harry answers before he turns to you and asks if you need anything.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Can you just, uhm. Can you maybe sing?”

“Of course I can love. Any requests?”

You shake your head, tucking back into Sarah’s side. Harry begins to sing, and you take deep breaths, trying to keep any nausea and dizziness at bay.

It’s a difficult hour, and a rough landing has you nearly reaching for the airsick bag but you’re able to hold it back.

You all get home mid-afternoon, and you immediately start to unpack. You know that if you don’t you’ll just leave the suitcase for days. When you’re done you head back to the living room where you find Harry sitting on the couch.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Ordering dinner. Don’t think anyone is up for cooking tonight.”

You sit next to him, putting a random show on TV for background noise. You grab a blanket, wrapping yourself in it to fight off the chills. You lean against Harry who wraps an arm around you. Mitch and Sarah join you two and you guys finish ordering food and sit together quietly while you wait for it to be delivered.

Once it’s there you all move to the kitchen table. You don’t have much of an appetite but try to eat some of your dinner. The others notice that you don’t eat much, but they don’t push it, knowing that your stomach is still bothering you.

Everyone changes into comfy clothes after dinner, and you head back to the living room couch. You’re in between Harry and Sarah, Mitch trailing behind in the bathroom for a minute. You wonder what’s holding him up but understand when he walks out with your medicine box.

He takes your temperature, frowning when he sees you once again have a high fever. You take the medicine he hands you before curling into Sarah’s side. Her hand slides through your hair and rubs your back, and you focus on those comforting touches.

You all watch a movie before deciding it’s time to head to bed. You stand from the couch, taking a moment to steady yourself as a wave of dizziness washes over you.

Your heart is beating incredibly fast again, and you’re having trouble catching your breath. The others stand around you, asking questions that you can’t hear over the pounding of your heartbeat.

You meet Harry’s eyes for a moment before everything goes dark and you collapse into his arms.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye @n0vaj3an

AN: Thank you again for reading this story! There will be a part 2 to this!

#harry styles x reader #mitch rowland x reader #mitch rowland x sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x reader #mitch rowland x harry styles #sarah jones x mitch rowland x reader

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azulera · 1 year

Text

The Experiment

Pairing: Emile Smith Rowe x Black Reader

Summary: Emile's kisses require scientific investigation.

Notes: Scavenged this out of my drafts in honor of u21s winning euros 🎉 if only the 1st team could do the same, anyways can u tell how badly i wanna give ESR a k*ss … my yardie … arsepool is real

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the first kiss, in the morning, his lips were still tingly, and you could taste the traces of cool mint toothpaste. He’d rolled from bed before you, up early for treatment, which may have sabotaged things from the start.

“You changed it?”

“Changed what?” He asked from the wardrobe, pulling his training kit top overhead.

“The toothpaste. It was cinnamon before, now it’s mint.”

“We were runnin out.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t mean to wake you. Be back around three later.”

You nodded, trying to shake the sleep from your body. “I probably won’t get out from the lab until six. So may I have another kiss, please? A proper one.”

“Needy girl” Emile tutted, but leaned down to meet you anyway, trying not to smile. You held on, turning his one soft peck into two more, and then holding your mouth to his, muffling his sound of surprise.

“I’ve gotta go, bab— baby, mm–”

“I know, just one — more.” You pulled back, with a deep sigh and Emile’s hand somehow tangled in the back of your sleep scarf. “There. Have a good day.”

When he stepped out the door, gently touching his mouth, you flopped back down on the bed. Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you opened the notes app, and typed away.

~~~

The drive from the lab to Colney was a quick one, and you caught Emile just before lunch finished. He sat in the passenger seat with a smoothie in hand and questions in his eyes.

“What? I wanted to see you. Ain’t that allowed?”

His face was still frost-bitten from the cold, and his lips were redder than ever as they split around a smirk.

“Yeah. Just weren’t expecting you, is all.”

“Well, here I am. How’s the day going?”

You turned toward him in the seat, tuned in as he began the story of how he'd nutmegged Bukayo twice in the same rondo and then got him again later during five aside. You wrapped a hand behind the back of his neck, rubbing into the tendons as he mentioned his lack of playing time, and the frustrating conversations he’d had with the coaching staff concerning it. The hand moved around to cup his chin, thumb moving over his bottom lip when he’d finished speaking.

“Your lips are still so cold, Emi. Let me warm them up.”

“What?” You had leaned over the center console, bringing your other hand to catch along his cheek. “What do you mean?”

“I’m saying can I kiss you?”

“I mean,” Emile licked his lips, eyes darting around the empty training lot. “I mean, yeah.”

You grinned and leaned in, bringing your mouths together gently. A few brushes of tongue later, things were not so gentle, and you hummed when his hands came to grip around your waist, pulling you towards his lap.

“Hold on, this is mad,” He breathed. “Feel like I’m back in year 11.”

“You were snogging girls in the car in year 11?”

“Nah, no,” He kissed your cheek once, fingers still pressed into your hip. “Never. Was straight on football.”

“Right, whatever you say.” You had released him, and settled back into your seat. “How much time until you need to be back?”

“Like 15 minutes. But under 18s will be on that field right there in like five.”

“Okay,” You snuck one more kiss to the corner of his mouth, then revisited the notes app, while Emile checked his cheeks for lip gloss marks, and tried to regulate his breathing. “Tell me about the nutmeg again?”

~~~

By the time Emile disentangled himself from the final kiss, the fifth of the last five minutes, the twentieth of the day, he had developed some concerns. But they didn’t stop his chest from thumping, or blood from spreading warm through his veins, coloring his cheeks a rose tint that matched his lips. He licked over them once, and your eyes tracked the movement.

“Are you alright, babes? You’re mad … affectionate, today.”

“What you mean?” You questioned, halfhearted, already arcing back in towards his mouth. The wood of the dining chair creaked beneath your combined weight, finished dinner plates catching the overhead light.

“It’s just—“ He took a deep breath, trying to repress the tingles shooting down his spine from your nails along his collarbone. “You been sort of – all over me, innit. All day.”

“It’s a problem, then?” You frowned, your chests still pressed together, and noticing your own face was hot, around your ears and down through to your chest.

“Nah! No! Not at all, I’m just,” You pressed your lips to a spot just under his ear, and then his chin. “I was just sayin. An observation, you know.”

“Well, if you must know, it’s–” Your mind whirred, searching for some explanation beyond ‘I’m kind of obsessed with your lips’ or ‘I might be addicted to kissing you’. “It’s for science. Yeah, it’s all purely empirical. Wanted to know … when the best time to kiss you is– in the morning, afternoon, or night.”

You trailed a line of them along his jaw while you spoke, and felt him shiver.

“For science” he echoed, distracted but thinking back through the events of the day, and your generally nerdy tendencies, and saw how it made sense.

He didn’t, however, answer beyond that, as he was caught up again in the warm slide of your mouth. When he could, he cursed, and let out a shaky breath.

“S’like an experiment, innit.”

“Precisely.”

“So what’s the results?”

“Huh?” You asked, thoughts gone hazy, and bordering on annoyed at the continued gap between your mouth and his.

“The results of your experiment. When’s the best time?”

“Oh, um …” You bit your lip, not wanting to break the heated embrace to find your phone. The answer was simple anyway - all the day’s data pointed to one conclusion. “All the time. It’s always a good time to kiss you.”

Emile laughed, blushing an even darker pink, and sliding his hands up your thighs, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But what do you think?”

He met your eyes, his baby blues full of amusement, and love, and something more. Then he stood up from the chair, carrying you along with him.

“Think I’ve got an idea for experiment number two.”

#emile smith rowe #emile smith rowe imagine #emile smith rowe fanfiction #emile smith rowe x reader #emile smith rowe x you #footballer x you #footballer x reader #football imagine #football fanfic

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dutchvanwinkle · 2 years

Note

Would you consider doing a fic request involving a three way with Dutch and Arthur? There isn’t enough out there with both in!

Would I consider it? Baby I fantasize about it on the regular. Enjoy ☺

I know it took me a while to finish but I hope the wait was worth it anon!

This is set in the early-ish days, Arthur being mid-twenties and Dutch being mid-thirties because I love the thought of cocky Arthur in his youth.

The Importance of Hierarchy - Arthur x Dutch x Reader

ao3 link if you prefer.

Summary: Arthur and Dutch notice you’ve become too self-assured and seem to have forgotten the hierarchy within the gang. They take it upon themselves to remind you.

Word count: 15,119

Content warnings: So much smut, 18+ (please check ao3 for specific tags)

Life in a gang had thoroughly surprised you. At first, when the offer arose of joining a small gaggle of outlaws you weren’t entirely sure about the whole thing. Most of them that had joined the gang did so because they had nowhere else to go and it gave them an opportunity for a second chance. But you were poached by them, a talented thief with a quick wit who they happened to run into when a few of them were targeting the same mark as you. It made sense to team up for the job at the time, they seemed decent enough and if you were being honest, you were slightly out of your depth sneaking into the mansion of a local businessman; not that you’d ever admit that to them.

The whole thing went off without a hitch, and you stole more than you’d have been able to on your own, so even when split between yourself and the three men your take was larger than you’d expected. You parted ways afterwards but hadn’t expected them to track you down some days later with the promise of a larger take and a spot in their gang.

While the job went well, you still had your reservations. Though this time, your new friends Arthur, John, and Javier had brought along the gang’s leader who appeared to harbour the group’s share of charm and smoothly twisted your arm into joining up with a promise that it can only be temporary should you decide it’s not for you.

Alas, temporary it was not.

This way of life suited you; it was nice having other people to talk and drink with, and it was nice having them there to fall back on if a job went sour. Six months went by and you were already a part of the furniture, well-accustomed to the ebbs and flows experienced by the Van der Linde gang. The vagabonds had already stepped up from the title of colleagues and you proudly thought of them as your family.

And as with every family, that just so happened to include the regular squabbling - harmless as it was.

Currently, you felt nothing other than frustration at Arthur and Dutch, one-upping each other with their marksman skills as they shot bottles and birds alike while you sat and waited for them to get a move on so you could start turning the ground over in the gang’s new surrounding area for some fresh leads. Leant by the small tree a ways off the main road, you’d watched for over forty-five minutes and they didn’t appear to be stopping anytime soon.

While Arthur made an excuse about why he’d missed a shot you flicked open your pocket watch, grunting at the time that greeted you. It was getting late, you were getting hungry, and they were getting on your last nerve.

Pushing yourself off the tree’s trunk, you stood between them and held up your rolled-up map. The two men stopped their animated discussion almost comically, heads tilted at you like a pair of dumb dogs for an explanation.

“If you boys are quite done with your pissing contest, I believe we have some work to do,” you reminded them, unrolling the map and holding it open.

They shared a cursory glance at the map before each other and then you, the corners of their lips turning up in amusement.

“Sorry little lady,” Arthur drawled, casually digging his repeater into the ground to lean on. “Didn’t realise you had somewhere better to be.”

You huffed tiredly. “I just don’t want to spend my time standing around. The two of you can go off and shoot all the bottles you like once we’re through, and I can go elsewhere.”

“When did your time become so valuable? Had I known, I might’ve taken out a small loan or asked Strauss to balance the books for me,” Dutch mused, Arthur’s chuckle chiming in the background. “We ought to make amends to our budget to allow for our new expense. Would you like your payment weekly or monthly, miss?”

“Any time today would be grand,” you scoffed. “Stop being an ass, you said this wouldn’t take long.”

Dutch raised his eyebrows at your comment and choice of name for him, and cockily crossed his arms – something you suspected was usually enough to get someone to rethink their words. You knew talking back to the man in charge was a brave, or stupid, thing to do but on this occasion, you thought you were warranted to say something. Besides, he always did struggle to be mad at you considering the high-quality work you’d put in for the gang so far.

“My my, Arthur. Seems our girl is growing bored of us.”

You dropped your arm to your side, the map dangling uselessly and rubbed at your brow with a fatigued groan. “It’s not that. I’m happy to go to town on my own, I don’t see why I have to come with you both anyway. Then you can finish whatever... sport this is and go off on your own accord. Sound fair?”

They glanced at each other once more, not seeming even slightly bothered by your small outburst and instead seemed to find humour at each turn of the conversation. After mirroring each other’s smiles, Arthur cleared the laugh building in his throat.

“What’chu think, Dutch? Sound fair to you?”

Dutch hummed thoughtfully, feigning the action of decision-making and only doing so for the sake of creating suspense. Arthur waited patiently; a befittingly boyish smirk plastered across his face.

“Now, what is fair? One may define it as -”

“No,” you interrupted immediately, one of Dutch’s lectures the last on the list of things you wanted at that moment. “For the love of god, no.”

“No what?” he asked, eyes warm and mischievous.

“Please,” you sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m appealing to your humanity. Do not make me sit through a lecture. And do not make me sit through any more mindless shooting.”

“Alright,” Dutch acquiesced, raising his arms in surrender and Arthur tutted at the swift end to his entertainment. “Fair enough. As you wish, we can go ahead and do our scouting now instead.”

“Thank you,” you said pointedly, turning on your heels to lead them back to the horses who you suspected were just as bored as you were.

So, you got your way and the ordeal was finished, but at what cost? While you did scour the town for leads, from then on, the two men thought it funny to use every opportunity to tease you and you began to miss a few hours previous when you only had to listen to the repeated fires of their guns instead of their smarmy remarks. They really were a childish pair of bastards.

✾

The local town was fruitful, filled to the brim with leads that you’d been tracking in your journal. The gang was busy and spirits were high with all the planning that was going on. You’d taken a second trip into town with Karen a few days later to scout for a job the two of you had been scoping out and you’d robbed a stagecoach with John and somehow come out the other side unscathed. One job you’d been helping plan for was on hold, it was one of the biggest you’d been involved with and required a generous amount of dynamite to pull off. Though the one person who promised to get you said dynamite was yet to deliver.

After pondering the rest of the active leads and deciding this particular one was a priority to set in motion, you pushed up from your bedroll and beelined for Arthur, sitting outside Dutch’s tent sharpening his knife.

“Arthur,” you greeted him and the outlaw raised his head in response, eyes quickly darting to the small book in your hand as he calculated you hadn’t come over for a friendly chat.

“How can I help?” he asked pre-emptively with an underlying tone of sarcasm.

“I need the dynamite sooner rather than later,” you informed him, ignoring his mocking façade of helpfulness. “This one can’t wait much longer.”

Dutch was facing the other way, a cigar pressed to his lips. He smirked at the thought of you bossing around big stubborn Arthur.

“That right,” Arthur sat back with a sigh. “I don’t get no hello how are you or what can I do to help you do I? All you want is for me to do something, like I’m not always doing something -”

“Arthur,” you interjected sternly. “You said you’d get it in the first place so stop making a fuss. It’s not like I’m asking for much and we can’t do anything without it. It is your job to keep the ammunition topped up.”

“You could always try asking me nicely.”

Rolling your eyes, you exhaled the cool air and reminded yourself not to rise to his teasing. “Just do it,” you lamented, turning to leave before he could make another remark.

Dutch took it as an opportunity to lean on the back of Arthur’s chair, awaiting his pending complaint.

“When did she get so god damn demanding?” the younger man promptly delivered, and while Dutch thought of a reply he found himself distracted by the sway of your hips in that skirt as you made your way back to your tent.

Arthur’s hungry eyes lit up just the same despite his grievances, the pair of dogs now closer to a pair of wolves spotting their next target for prey. It really was a flattering skirt.

The two men noticed the silence hanging between them at the same time, frowning at each other before taking their gazes away from you.

“Stop being a pervert,” Arthur deflected, letting out an awkward cough.

“You stop being a pervert,” Dutch countered, busying himself with straightening out his already straight waistcoat.

“That thing even still work anymore?” Arthur gestured lazily to Dutch’s crotch.

“Course it still works Arthur, I’m not senile.” Dutch then took the opportunity to look back at you, pencil now pressed onto your bottom lip while you concentrated on that little journal of yours. A brief wave of guilt washed over him.

Of all the people in his gang, you were by far one of the hardest workers. It was refreshing to have someone come in that had no requirements for learning the ropes, and instead taught the rest a new trick or two and provided useful insights whenever anyone asked for it. He knew that deep down you were similar to him, worrying more than necessary about the gang and overcompensating by bulking out the available funds with your labour. Sure, sometimes you could be overbearing and he wasn’t sure he’d ever even seen you sit still for a full day, but he thought back to the time you joined, often the life of the party that had now traded the drunken late nights for early, hangover-free mornings so you could get to work straight away. Dutch was truly grateful to have such an asset, but he worried that the way he hammered in the importance of loyalty and hard work had been too much and unnecessary. You just cared. A lot. He suspected you never required that push in the first place that the others usually do.

The way Dutch saw it, he was left with two problems. You’d forgotten how to have a good time and also forgotten the level of responsibility you had; while he was glad you were invested in the gang’s forthcomings; he couldn’t have you ordering his senior gun around. That was his job, after all.

He did know of one way to kill two birds with one stone.

His face and posture relaxed in turn at the enlightenment, and Arthur felt the air shift around him. He looked at Dutch inquisitively, noticing the ever-obvious signs of the man’s mind formulating a plan. “What you thinkin’?”

“I’m thinkin’ we take little miss out on a special job, just the three of us.”

“A special job?”

“Sure. Maybe remind her how to have some fun,” Dutch said, a devilish look growing on his face. It soon hardened in place with a committed exhale. “And while we’re at it, we can remind her who’s in charge.”

Arthur frowned; not entirely sure what Dutch was going on about but as usual, he assumed he wouldn’t escape being dragged along for the ride.

✾

It was a mild day, overcast skies and a cool breeze passing through the street you walked along on the way to the hotel. Dutch had asked you to meet him and Arthur there for a job and said that he’d explain more when you arrived, your only instruction being to wear a nice enough outfit that’d still let you blend in. You chose your favourite skirt and blouse combination.

The hotel was average-sized, slightly larger than one would find in a small town but nothing compared to the big city ones. You’d been in once before, to the bar on the ground floor when you and the girls had a field day swiping valuables from the over-served patrons. A hotel with its own bar was a smart idea, from the hotel’s financial perspective, yet dangerous for its customers. Knowing there’s an available bed just up the stairs often makes people more likely to reach questionable levels of intoxication. That usually worked in your favour.

Room eight, fourth door on your left when you reach the upstairs landing. The clerk’s words repeated in your head as you walked up the stairs, the small key clutched in your hand. Sure enough, there was the door to room eight.

Upon opening it, you frowned: no sign of Dutch and Arthur. Were you late? Your pocket watch answered for you when you checked the face of it – 19:03. You were just on time.

With a shrug, you assumed the others would be with you any moment, but the more than inviting bed called to your tired bones. May as well have a rest while you waited. You kicked your boots off and flopped back onto the bed, revelling in the supportive mattress and letting the bottoms of your legs dangle off the side while you observed the patterned swirls on the ceiling.

The low hum of noise from downstairs and the slight whistle of wind through a gap in the window soothed you, and while you reminded yourself that you had to stay awake, you allowed your eyes to fall shut.

Your relaxation was short-lived, the slamming open of the door startling you awake with a gasp. Instead of pulling your gun from its holster, your hand remained hovering over it when you sat up and found Arthur and Dutch laughing at your reaction. You grumbled indignantly. “You’re not funny.”

Arthur snorted, shaking his head and closing the door behind him. “You agree with that, Dutch?”

“Nope,” the man responded plainly, taking a step closer and hooking his thumbs over his gun belt.

“Looks like you’re outnumbered, sorry darlin’.”

With a defeated eye-roll, you lowered back down onto your elbows. The two of them observed you for a moment before Arthur broke the silence with an ever so slight strain in his voice.

“You’re looking mighty comfortable there.”

You looked either side of yourself to the bed and back to him. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Too comfortable,” Arthur clarified, his voice low and almost sinister. “You’re making a habit o’ it.”

You wrinkled your nose at him in confusion. If anything, you’d been the complete opposite with how tirelessly you’d worked in recent weeks to make yourself worthy of your spot in the gang. Deflated, at the prospect all you’d done wasn’t nearly enough, you breathed out a short breath. “What’s that supposed to mean? You saying I’ve been slacking off?”

Arthur didn’t give anything away, instead raising his eyebrows at Dutch to clarify.

“Quite the opposite,” he commented in an indifferent monotone. It was Dutch’s turn to receive your confused expression, allowing Arthur a moment to compose himself while your attention was elsewhere.

To say Arthur was excited about Dutch’s plan was... an understatement.

He’d hardly believed the proposition when it left his mentor’s lips. At first, he thought it was a joke, some harsh gimmick you and him had cooked up to embarrass Arthur into admitting he wanted you in that way. Because admission was all it was, no persuasion was necessary given the number of times Arthur had tugged on himself with eyes screwed tight and gritted teeth as he fought back any audible sound that could let onto what he was up to in the confines of his tent. He’d wanted to experience you in that way from the moment he’d met you. In truth, he loved your asserted and self-assured manner and he did have a great deal of respect for you for not bowing to any of the boys; not even Dutch.

But when the man himself suggested it, putting the image of you in Arthur’s head doing exactly that – on your knees for him, shedding your clothes for him, opening your legs for him...

Well, it was all he’d damn well thought about since.

Dutch’s reasoning hadn’t helped. Teach her a lesson and remind her who’s in charge and but make her pleasure our top priority had all but circled Arthur’s mind like some sort of chant since he’d uttered them in a hushed voice by the light of the campfire one night when everyone else was asleep. Dutch always did have a talent for painting a pretty picture, and he’d made this scenario into a masterpiece.

Then, Dutch began to move and broke Arthur out of his impending stupor. He rounded the bed, prompting you to shuffle your legs onto it and back a little so you were no longer sideways. Knees bent, but still propped up on your elbows, you watched as he all but prowled to be stood at the foot of the bed and stopped, chuckling gently. It didn’t lessen your building unease with the situation.

But Dutch’s face was soft, kind almost, his expression reminding you of a proud one but that wasn’t quite the best description - you couldn’t put a pin on it but you remained hopeful that it was borne from a genuine place. He shook his head slightly. “We’re going to fix our little problem on this job today.”

Problem? “Problem? I – I wasn’t aware we had a problem... sir.”

The way Dutch’s eyes lit up at the end of your sentence didn’t go unnoticed by you. The corner of his lip tugged slightly and he nodded again. “That is much better.”

“Better?” you turned to face Arthur, seemingly frozen in his spot and thawed by your gaze, mobilising to join Dutch’s side at the end of the bed and mentally shaking off his rapidly expanding imagination to resume his persona of hardened outlaw.

Neither of them answered you, and as the gentle thrum of your pulse picked up beneath your skin you darted your gaze between them.

“She looks like a little deer,” Arthur observed and Dutch hummed in agreement. His hands drifted to his gun belt and a brief flash of fear struck you but was soon numbed by the click of his buckle which preceded the soft brush of leather as it slid out of the fasten. He held the gun belt away from his hips in one hand before letting it drop to the floor, and despite your knowledge of the sound it’d make the thunk of it hitting the wood made your shoulders tense.

“I do love those doe eyes,” he said and Arthur took it as his cue to remove his own gun belt, which he did with admittedly more haste. “Don’t you, Arthur?”

“I’ll be honest Dutch,” Arthur huffed a chuckle, “it’s not her eyes I’m thinkin’ about.”

A quiet warning side-eye from Dutch simmered Arthur down somewhat, who cleared his throat while the tension built in your face. “Why are you talking about me like I’m not sat right here? Can one of you please explain what this is all about? You’re making me feel very... unnerved.”

“The problem,” Dutch began diplomatically, posture relaxed yet solid, “is that you’ve been forgetting the chain of command recently.”

You weren’t enjoying this game. You’d come here for the job, waited while they were late and damn them if they weren’t going to let you prove yourself and instead act like you’re some lazy leech. Thoroughly sick of their recent affliction for ganging up on you, and in your opinion an unfair view on your contribution to the gang, you shuffled forward and pushed up to stand between the two of them. You’d never cast much thought to how tall they both were until this moment. “Whatever you say. Can we just get on with the job?”

Dutch smirked, pleased, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “If that’s what your heart desires, then by all means.”

The pressure from his palm increased and you looked at it and then back to him, brow scrunched in questioning.

“Sit,” he commanded softly, lips remaining parted around the word, and you did so hesitantly.

“Why are you both acting strange?” your voice came out quiet and you felt small at that moment; them being dangerous men was a fact you often forgot. Dutch seemed to notice. Arthur was too busy anticipating what was to come.

“Relax.”

It wasn’t much, but you took it. Perhaps you weren’t in trouble, but you did know that doing what was asked of you would lead to clarity eventually. So, you shuffled back and leaned down onto your forearms once more.

“Are you going to tell me what the plan is, then?”

The creases in the corners of both their eyes deepened, a wave of excitement washing over their faces. “Oh,” Dutch chuckled. “We’ve got a big plan for you.”

He leaned forward, running his index finger from your outer ankle and up the side of your calf, watching the motion with intent before flicking his eyes up to you.

Oh.

Were you dreaming? Unlike all the previous signs, you couldn’t ignore this one. The gentleness of touch almost had you thinking twice about the man’s... men’s motive with you, that perhaps it was all in your head. Perhaps.

You didn’t dare look at the contact the two of you shared and instead held Dutch's gaze, not entirely sure how you would deal with it if they were making a pass at you. Just as you’d formulated enough excuses for their behaviour and plucked up the courage to speak, Arthur chuckled to himself darkly.

“Two of ‘em, actually.”

Your attention snapped to the younger man, his eyes not meeting yours and instead scanning your body laid out in front of him. Nerves building, you gulped minimally. “What... Plan are you talking about?”

A devilish grin grew on Arthur’s face as though he’d been itching for you to ask that very question. The hand resting loosely on his belt journeyed to his crotch and grasped his growing bulge, your eyes widening as he shunted it for effect.

Dutch’s own eyes rolled at the display and he stood, dropping his arm at his side. “You can be rather crude sometimes, Arthur.”

“Watchu mean?” he scoffed with a boyish grin.

Gesturing to you, Dutch raised his eyebrows. “Ain’t no way to behave around a lady.”

You were about to agree when Arthur tsked through his teeth. “Won’t be much of a lady once we’re finished with her.”

“Hey,” you scrambled backwards and sat up, holding your hands in surrender. “I don’t know what is going on here, but if you think for one second I’m going to lay with you both you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Ah,” rumbled Dutch, an amused smile growing on his face. “The lady doth protest.”

“Is that really why you brought me here? So you could use me for some -”

“Now, now,” Dutch brought his hands up, clearly attempting to add some seriousness to his act. “You’ve got the wrong idea.”

“That so?” you countered, crossing your arms in defiance. “Seems to me like I’ve got a perfect handle on this situation.”

“No, not at all. In fact -”

Arthur’s bored sigh interrupted Dutch’s sentence and he pointedly pulled his boots off one by one before putting a knee on the bed and not stopping until you had to lie back and he was hovering over you, an arm on either side of your head.

You widened your eyes in alarm, trying to think of something to say but for the first time in a while you were coming up empty. You weren’t scared of them, of what they were up to, and that was the worst thing about it. However silly it was, bracketed in by Arthur you felt entirely safe. In fact, a large part of you was... curious. If they were here to be intimate with you, which wasn’t something you could deny to be the case any longer, you weren’t sure you’d have it in you to say no. The prospect of taking them both was nothing short of exhilarating.

“Darlin’,” Arthur cooed softly, his index finger and thumb coming to rest on your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze which searched your face before landing on your eyes. He angled his head and offered you a warm smile. “We ain’t gonna hurt ya. Way I see it, you can let old Dutch drone on about what his plan is,” you didn’t miss Dutch’s huff in the background, but Arthur’s lips coming down so close to your neck that you could feel his warm breath began to tune out everything that wasn’t him, “or you can just let us show ya.”

He paused, not following through with his words just yet but you’d involuntarily bared your neck to him, clearing your throat when you realised what a precarious situation you’d gotten yourself into. “Arthur, I -”

Arthur groaned, cutting you off and running his thumb back and forth on the side of your chin. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear my name come out your mouth all breathy like that.” He dropped his forehead to rest on your shoulder, angling slightly so his nose fit in the contour of the crook of your neck.

“Arthur,” Dutch warned sternly, and he unwillingly let go of your chin and sat back on his haunches.

“You’re jus’ mad I’m the one that seduced her an’ not you,” Arthur tutted, eyes not leaving your flushed face with a ghost of a proud smile fading onto his.

“I’m not playing your games right now, Arthur,” Dutch countered, mainly irritated at the grain of truth held in Arthur’s accusation. “But... perhaps you’re right.”

Arthur registered Dutch’s words a beat later, cockily raising his eyebrows to turn and smile at the man with a glint in his eye. “I didn’t quite catch that – you're saying I’m right?” Arthur huffed an incredulous laugh, “and you’re wrong?”

Dutch tensed his jaw, rolling his shoulders back before clapping a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I have no problem admitting my wrongdoings,” you suppressed a mocking snicker, “in fact, I think I may have the wrong idea about this whole plan in the first place. Perhaps our little miss here has learnt by example, since you appear to have forgotten the chain of command too, son.”

At Arthur’s scowl, Dutch lowered down slightly to level their gazes. “I am perfectly capable of carrying out this particular job myself,” he flicked his eyes to you briefly and licked his bottom lip before looking back at Arthur, “in fact, I’d be more than happy to have her to myself. Is that something you want?”

“No, Dutch,” Arthur grumbled and Dutch’s expression softened into an accomplished one while you looked between them, bewildered.

“You forget, Dutch, that I haven’t agreed to sleep with either of you,” you scoffed, with the intent that if you could convince them you didn’t want it, you could convince yourself too.

As though reading your mind, Dutch tilted his head down to look at you. For once, he allowed the silence to speak for him.

“Besides,” you broke under the tense air far too soon, “I don’t even know why you’re trying to seduce me in the first place.”

“Well,” Dutch began, removing his hand from Arthur’s shoulder, “I was trying to explain earlier.” He pondered his next sentence, a sly smile growing on his face. He removed his hat, placing it nearly on a table by the window and pushed his pomaded hair back. “But,” his already low voice lowered further, “I reckon we should compromise; do a little show and tell.”

You looked to a listening Arthur and back to Dutch, who slowly walked round to the side of the bed and sat on the edge of it beside you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. His warm, calloused fingertips almost made you forget yourself and it was an effort not to lean into his hand.

“I don’t think you realise how much I value you, darlin’,” Dutch returned his hand to himself and you blinked owlishly at his change of tone. “Your hard work hasn’t gone unnoticed; I know we need the money but life is not all about work. Sometimes... it’s about play, too,” he smirked, his voice evenly laced with sincerity and seduction. “So, me and Arthur here,” Dutch’s hand crept onto your thigh, firmly holding the flesh, “have decided to give you a hand or two with some well-deserved relaxin’, while thanking you for said efforts.”

With Arthur watching Dutch’s hand with intent, you felt like a grand prize on display with the lust-filled expressions on the faces of these two men. The thought of them desiring you, discussing you, sharing you...

“But,” Dutch’s tone sharpened and he squeezed your thigh, bringing his face closer to yours, “what we do not appreciate is you forgetting your role.” At your narrowed brow, Dutch elaborated. “You are well aware of the hierarchy, miss.”

“It’s just that -”

“I know,” Dutch interrupted softly. “You want to help. Be that as it may, that does not put you above me, nor does it put you above Arthur.”

It was a fair comment. Maybe you had been a little bossy recently, but they at least seemed to understand the intent behind your actions. What wasn’t clear was the relation that had to the current circumstance. “Why does that matter with this, though?”

The two men shared a knowing glance and looked back to you. “Oh darlin',” chuckled Arthur.

“What?”

“While we’re here for you, you are also here for us. We’d like to get what we’re owed from you.”

At the sight of these two men looming over you, predatory looks tainting their eyes, something inside you weakened and you shifted minimally on the bed. It was enough of a tell for them and they smirked in unison, the bastards; they knew exactly what feeling had just shot through you.

“What do you think, Arthur?” Dutch teased.

“I think she wants it.”

They looked at you expectantly and Dutch raised a quizzical brow. He leaned in, skirting around to your jaw and pressing his lips against it. “You know how persuasive I can be,” he murmured before placing another peck.

The light tingling sensation pricking the surface of your skin began to seep deeper, your pulse thrumming with arousal and you could no longer pick out an excuse not to go through with it. The building hunger in Arthur’s eyes and Dutch’s moustache tickling your face eviscerated your final straw.

You turned your head to capture Dutch’s lips with yours, feeling him smirk at your eagerness and tenderly kiss you back twice until a cold brush of air took their place. Opening your eyes, you were met with him pulling away and you frowned, leaning in once more and he placed his index finger over your mouth.

“Tell me who’s in charge,” he purred, but didn’t give you room to answer as the tip of his finger pressed down and you opened your mouth to allow him in, sucking gently and feeling set alight by how he bit down on his bottom lip. A faint taste of gunmetal and tobacco transferred onto your tongue and he lewdly pushed his finger in and out, stopping once he’d created a rhythm and pulling his now shining finger from your mouth. He used it to tip your chin up, marvelling at your undone and half-lidded gaze.

“Tell me,” he commanded softly.

“You are, Dutch.”

“And then?”

“Then,” you glanced to a smug-looking Arthur, who was using every inch of his willpower not to pounce on you, and rolled your eyes. “Arthur.”

“I don’t think I like her attitude, Dutch.”

“Me neither.”

“Fine, sorry. Then Arth -”

Dutch let go of your chin and held up his hand, silencing you. “Too late now. I was going to start off by asking dear old Arthur here to pleasure you with his mouth as a reward for your hard work, but looks like we’ll have to get the brat out of you first.” At your questioning frown, Dutch brushed a hand over your hair lovingly and down your face until his thumb landed on the pad of your bottom lip, pulling it apart from your top one. “Use this pretty mouth of yours on him, instead.”

You could practically hear Arthur’s buzz of excitement at Dutch’s words, the younger man unable to sit still on the bed.

“And what are you going to do?” you asked Dutch, noticing the growing hardness in his pants in your peripheral vision.

Dutch smirked, pleased that you were concerning yourself with his part in all this, and pulled out the cigar that was weighing down his pocket and held it up for you to see. “I’m going to enjoy this, while I enjoy,” he looked between you and Arthur, “this.”

With that, Dutch stood and turned, making his way to the comfortable chair in the corner of the room and you turned your head to look at a grinning Arthur.

“You aren’t ever going to let me live this down, are you,” you scoffed and his grin widened.

“If I have my way, darlin’, this won’t be a one-time thing,” he adjusted his crotch absent-mindedly, unable to stop his wandering eyes and leaned in to place a kiss on your cheek, “least not between us.”

“Less of that, Arthur,” Dutch warned gently, hands clasped on his lap and cigar not yet lit.

Arthur playfully rolled his eyes and your cheeks grew warm, further still with the subsequent kiss that was placed on your other one. “I’m gonna kiss you now, darlin’,” he whispered and nudged his nose against yours and you tilted your head up to reach him, your eyes fluttering closed as his warm lips pressed onto yours, his stubble scratching against your skin. It was surprising that he managed to be gentle considering his excitement for the situation, but even Arthur’s mind recognised this as your first kiss and wanted to savour some of the moment.

He brought his hand to hold your face and yours found his waist in turn, the two of you edging your bodies closer and deepening the kiss. You sighed happily into it and felt his mouth open, allowing your tongue to cross the boundary with ease. The pad of Arthur’s thumb grazed your cheekbone as you continued to explore each other's mouths.

“If I wanted to watch a romance I’d have gone to a picture house,” Dutch scoffed, you and Arthur pulling apart to give him a glance, his posture remained as it was previously, before smirking at each other. You glanced down, running a fingertip over the button on his pants and being thankful for the kissing as an excuse for the excess saliva that entered your mouth at the thought. “Suck his cock, sweet one.”

When you pushed the button out through the hole, Arthur’s chest tensed in an attempt to calm his shortening breaths and you glanced up at him through your lashes.

“Stand up for me, cowboy,” you cooed, deciding against teasing him for the blush that spread on his cheeks and nose. He did so, but quickly rolled his shoulders back and cleared his throat as he reminded himself why this was all happening in the first place.

“Was gonna do that anyway,” he mumbled, “not doin’ it ‘cause you asked me to.”

Dutch’s mocking chuckle was quiet and Arthur shot him a glare as you suppressed your own laughter, moving to kneel on the bed while pulling his work pants halfway down. You eyed the bulge of Arthur’s hard cock and the small dab of precum showing through his union suit, gently running your hand over him and feeling your confidence growing at his even shorter breaths.

After caressing him for a moment, reminding your imagination not to get too ahead of itself at the thought of him inside you, you began undoing buttons to free him from its confines. Once his cock sprang free you glanced up at him, offering a coy smile at the almost-painful display of restraint on his face. You licked your palm, finding a good use for that excess saliva, and grasped him. You intently watched the pleasure grow on his face and offered a few slow pumps of his shaft until he managed to open his eyes and look down at you, a hand finding its way into your hair to move the strands away from your face.

You leaned forward, kissing the side of him and the sound of want from his throat warned you off teasing him further, bringing your tongue out to run along a particularly prominent vein until reaching the head, pausing there to get a taste of his precum. The strike of a match made you pull off, looking over to Dutch who took a drag of his cigar and held his hand up in a carry-on gesture.

You obeyed, returning your attention to Arthur’s cock and closing your mouth around the end, to which his fingertips tensed on your scalp – urging you to take him further in. Well, since he was the one ‘in charge’ you could hardly say no. With your hand on his thigh for stability, you took him halfway in and felt sparks in your core at Arthur’s moan in relief, his head tilting upwards while he thanked whatever powers existed that brought him to this moment.

“Oh, that’s it sweetheart,” he sighed breathily, risking a glance down at you with your mouth full of him and biting his tongue at how quickly the sight edged him to the brink.

The unravelling of Arthur Morgan spurred you on while you tasted his most intimate part, bringing your head back and forth in time with the small but restrained thrusts of his hips. His hand stilled in your hair as his shoulders dropped at what you assumed was one of the few times he really had the opportunity to let go; despite his boyish insistence on being hard-faced and stoic, his deeply caring nature urged him to overwork himself at every opportunity. His physical relaxation was as close as you expected to get to the truth about his constant underlying fatigue and worry, and you took it upon yourself to let him enjoy you as he deserved.

Relaxing the back of your throat, you hollowed out your cheeks and prepared to take him all the way in, moving your head forward as your wet lips ventured further down his shaft until your nose nestled into his light brown hairs. A snippet of a higher moan than what you’d heard previous escaped Arthur’s clamped-shut lips, and you brushed your palms up and down the back of his thighs to keep him relaxed and soothe him. Breathing heavy, both of his hands held the side of your head and he looked at you with apprehension. You managed a small nod, allowing him to do as he pleased.

Anchored to you, he slid out and back in, out and in, out and in, each time nudging the back of your throat and you pushed through the urge to pull off; the noises of want coming from him far outweighing your desire for comfort. He increased his pace, losing himself in the sensation of your warm mouth wrapped around him and then suddenly pulled out, squeezing the base of his cock and you pouted up at him.

“Shit,” he muttered, attempting to calm his rapid breaths. “I don’t want to finish yet.”

Dutch chuckled and stood, setting his still-lit cigar on the bedside table before walking leisurely over and kneeling behind you on the bed. “This is why you go for a proper man, darlin’,” he murmured in your ear and ran his fingertips up your flank. “Not a youngster who wets his pants every five minutes.”

“You’re just a jealous old man who’s bitterly passed his prime, Dutch,” Arthur shot back, blinking up at the ceiling and thinking of anything that would keep his orgasm at bay.

Fingertips pressing into your hips, Dutch kissed the side of your neck and sighed with arousal, hot breath landing on your skin. He pulled you into him so your back met his front and you felt his arousal too, thick and hard as it pressed into you and keened at the thought, fluttering your eyes closed and baring your neck to give him better access.

“Let us take care of you,” he purred, clearing his throat and huffing a small laugh through his nose. “Sweetheart.”

You smirked, but decided to come to Arthur’s defence when the man tutted and glared at Dutch. “I think it’s nice.” Arthur tensed his jaw, unable to stop the heat burning in his body as he watched you grow weak in Dutch’s arms with the man’s hands gently stroking your sides and stomach.

Dutch hummed indifferently, breathing in the scent of your skin as it too grew hot. “I don’t think you want nice.”

“W-What makes you think that?” you breathed, bringing your hands over his as they settled on your lower abdomen.

You felt his smirk against your skin as you relaxed back into his warmth, fully seduced and content. “You’re with two wanted outlaws who have a single desire of fucking you,” Dutch lamented, “and you appear to be right at home.”

A small chuckle sounded in your throat, transmuting into a quiet whine when Dutch’s talented hands slid further down to your thighs, bunching up the fabric of your skirt.

“That’s it,” he whispered softly against the shell of your ear. Then his hands were gone and he shifted behind you and the faint burning of tobacco sounded as he took a deep drag, chest puffing out and nudging your back. Dutch brushed his hand over your shoulder and to your chin, taking it in a firm grip and tilting your head back to look at him. He leaned in and kissed you, releasing the smoke into your mouth as he did. You coughed slightly in surprise but his grip remained firm, holding your face to his. Eventually, you breathed the second-hand smoke in from his mouth and relaxed some, and once Dutch was satisfied with your pliancy, he pulled away from you, pushing the underside of your chin to keep your mouth shut. He smiled proudly and took another long drag, this time blowing the smoke up into the air.

You watched as it rose and faded while your throat burned, Dutch humming a laugh at your hazy expression and stubbing the cigar out to free his hands up so he could touch you. “Oh, my girl,” he began, palms snaking around your waist to nestle your form into his chest and placing a chaste kiss on your cheekbone while the smoke escaped your nose, “we are going to have some fun with you.”

Arthur stood in front of you, frankly feeling left out now that he’d calmed himself down, and placed his hands on his hips. “I think it’s time for us to explore this body of yours, miss,” he smirked down at you cheekily, cocking his head to the side and you blushed with a nod of agreement.

“Sit back for us,” said Dutch as he shifted away to allow you to move. Turning your body, you lay back on the bed with your head resting on the soft pillow and blinked up at him, more than happy to play your part.

“Like this?”

“Just like that.” Dutch glanced to Arthur who knelt on your other side and they seemed to communicate through gaze alone, a honed practice through years of riding together, and Arthur’s attention turned to your patient body while Dutch moved off the bed to walk around and sit at the end, loosening his collar as he went.

Arthur propped himself up on his forearm and leaned over you, blocking your view of Dutch but you could feel him start to get to work undressing you by loosening your skirt. Arthur’s breath came down hot on your skin as he touched his nose to yours. He kissed you once, then began littering your jaw and neck with more pecks and sucks as Dutch pulled at the fabric of your skirt and you lifted your hips to allow the garment to slide off. Arthur flicked his tongue out over your collarbone and you sighed happily, twirling the end of his overgrown hair around your index finger. He began to unbutton your shirt with one hand, impressing you with his multitasking ability and when it opened you shifted your torso up so he could reveal your arms and discard the shirt to the floor.

Broad hands ran up your thighs, kisses pressed to the inside of your knee, making a path upwards as Arthur’s made a path downwards to the top of your breasts. He admired the soft flesh poking out and undid the stay at your waist, discarding it so he could view the natural form that resided beneath. His palm ran up and stopped just beneath your breast, the cocky outlaw’s own clothes feeling far too tight and restrictive given the current situation. He persevered, looking at you with eyes glinting as the corners of his mouth tilted upwards. The eye contact remained as he lowered his head and you watched him kiss the middle of your chest through the fabric. His hand arrived at its destination, and you moaned gently as he squeezed the flesh like he’d been waiting to do so all day.

Dutch took his opportunity as your knees relaxed and your legs opened for him, exposing the damp patch between your legs where your garment stuck to your skin. The traced outline of your pussy sent a pulse through his cock and he brought a hand to his bulge in an attempt to extend his patience. You would be worth the wait.

His restraint only went so far, and it seemed to be a shared experience between the men as Arthur’s tongue teased your hardening nipple, wetting the fabric with his saliva, and Dutch brushed a knuckle over the patch, eliciting a full-body shiver from you.

Arthur hummed his amusement around the nipple he’d sucked into his mouth as Dutch made himself comfortable with his face at the perfect height to observe your most precious part. “Shit, Arthur,” he swallowed, mirth laced into his tone, “our girl really is enjoying this.”

Embarrassment washed over you briefly and your legs threatened to close, but Dutch’s palms held them firmly open. “No no, you keep this on display for me.” One hand journeyed up your leg until his thumb could run over the damp cotton and subsequently apply pressure to you, and the other came to hold your hip while his forearms kept your legs clamped to the bed. Arthur released you to get a look for himself, biting down on his lip at the thought of you all wet through your pants. “Goddamn,” he marvelled then turned back to you, “you do surprise me.” At your scowl, he offered you a genuine smile and shifted up to plant a kiss on your lips. “You’re such a sweet girl,” he murmured against them, “just be sweet to us. You don’t need no barriers up here.”

As his honeyed words had their desired effect of softening you some, Dutch’s tongue pressed expertly against your slit and wettened the fabric further as it slid down, his lips subsequently closing around the region of your clit and getting his first taste of you. You moaned into Arthur’s mouth as he kissed you again and your palms flew to the sides of his neck to use him as support lest you fly right off the bed.

Dutch sucked gently, the fabric becoming almost see-through as Arthur chuckled at your responsiveness, resuming his appraisal of your breasts. He took one in each hand, kneading them and kissing around both nipples until he could no longer wait to see you in all your glory, Dutch sharing the thought.

Both men paused, at an impasse thanks to your full-bodied undergarment. They looked at each other and then to you and you chuckled smugly, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you caught your breath. “Don’t look at me, I’m not the one in charge here.”

Arthur tutted fondly and Dutch gave you a daring look. He leaned to the side, picking something up off the floor though you couldn’t see what. “Arthur,” he commanded, throwing a hunting knife to him that he thankfully caught, “get this thing off her.”

“I don’t think so.” You brought your hands to your chest as Arthur twirled the knife around his fingers.

“We’ll get you another,” Dutch promised, nodding to Arthur to continue. Arthur smiled at you, up for the challenge, taking each wrist in his hands and pinning them above your head. “You gonna be a good girl and keep these here?”

You bit down on your lip and nodded, feeling delightfully powerless under Arthur’s strong grip as his eyes blew wide with lust and excitement. He waited there a beat, daring you to try and disobey and looking pleased when he removed his hands and yours remained in position. He took the knife and placed the tip at your belly button, sliding the blade up until the fabric was ruined and your breasts revealed. He licked his lips hungrily, unable to tear his eyes away as he passed the knife down to Dutch before nodding at your arms to come back down so he could relieve you completely. As you complied, the knife clattered to the floor and you looked down in time to see Dutch with a hand on either side of the incision, pointedly ripping open the rest and you jolted slightly at the sound and the cold air meeting your wetness.

Without needing to be asked, you lifted your hips for Dutch to pull the rest of your garment off and discard that to the floor, leaving you completely bare.

The atmosphere shifted. The men’s eyes drank in your body, minds running wild with their plans for marking and claiming it as their own. They were silenced as though in the presence of a divine deity, palpable long-awaited tension seeping all around you and filled with desire thanks to these two men that emanated it.

All at the sight of you.

Something about it felt right, despite how wrong it was. It was absurd, really, but you decided to milk the situation for all it was worth. You took a breath to expand your chest for Arthur and widened your legs for Dutch, smiling wickedly at the pair of them. “I’m starting to question who’s really in charge here.”

Dutch’s nose twitched with irritation as he narrowed his eyes at you and then honed in on the space between your legs. “Shut the brat up, Arthur.”

A lot happened all at once after Arthur muttered “with pleasure.” Teeth bit down on your nipple, a hand pressing onto your flank to keep you still and another over your mouth, and a tongue swiped up your slit, tearing a moan so lewd it took you a moment for you to register that you were the one that made it. The sound alone, even while muffled through Arthur’s palm, was enough to ignite the primal desire of the two men enjoying your body, Dutch licking up everything your cunt had to offer and Arthur adding more small bruises and bite marks to the collection growing on your chest.

You writhed under the sensation, channelling it into your hips and bucking into Dutch’s mouth as the wet pad of his tongue entered you, lapping up your juices and soaking his moustache. Arthur’s grip on your breasts increased, verging on painful but he soothed you by licking up your cleavage and not stopping until he reached your ear, sucking on your lobe and growling as you gasped, arching up to him and grasping at his sides.

He took your wrists in his hands and pinned you once more, taking a moment to admire you in this state and once his gaze landed on your lips, he didn’t hesitate in pressing his against them and initiating a sloppy kiss, both of your accumulated saliva mingling as your tongues circled each other. Meanwhile, Dutch’s tongue continued to tend to your... other lips.

It continued to fuck your cunt, and you briefly wondered how much his jaw must be hurting but your attention soon turned back to Arthur who nipped at your bottom lip, noticing your thoughts drifting away from him.

Lost in his wet kisses for some time, you broke away and jolted when something wet pressed against your other hole, one that as far as you were concerned should not be included in this.

“Dutch!” you yelped, glaring down at the man who flicked his eyes up to meet you, looking hazy and drunk, lost on what resided between your legs. A sly smile grew on his face, and his tongue repeated its earlier motion, circling the ring of muscle between your cheeks while confidently retaining eye contact.

“What,” you yelped again, trying to wriggle backwards out of pure embarrassment and you ignored Arthur’s chuckle, “the hell are you doing?”

He sighed, taking his mouth off you entirely and the air felt cooler thanks to all of his spit mixed in with your slick, which wasn’t much thanks to Dutch greedily drinking it up, that encompassed the entirety of your nether regions. “Darlin’,” he began, almost sounding as though he was trying to comfort you as he held the sides of your thighs in his hands. “How else do you plan on having two men fuck you?” at your bewildered expression, he continued and Arthur waited patiently, allowing himself to continue fondling your breast and you tried to not focus on the sensation as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. “You’ve got two holes, and we’ve got two cocks,” Dutch said plainly.

“But –” you cleared your throat, “won’t that hurt?”

Dutch smiled, kissing the inside of your thigh and Arthur’s hand came to your jaw, guiding your gaze over to him. His expression was amused but slightly softened which soothed your concern somewhat. “Not if Dutch relaxes you, which is what he’s trying to do right now.”

You looked back to Dutch who raised his brows in agreement, and you pouted with no further excuses coming to mind. The idea intrigued you, but it was still new and strange. Though, something about the two of them fucking into you sent your mind into a tizzy...

“What I’d give to read those thoughts right now,” Dutch hummed, moving the tip of his index finger onto your clit to lazily rub over it, gently keeping you stimulated. Once again, you relaxed under his touch. “Trust in me, darlin’. I know what I’m doing.”

Still, your mind whirled with intrigue and uncertainty. “What about -”

“Arthur,” Dutch commanded with the man’s name alone, who proceeded to silence your array of questions with the crash of his lips into yours. Neither man seemed to want to give you time to ask them, more intent on showing as it was previously decided, both of their tongues working in tandem and when Dutch’s made its way south again you lost all trails of thought.

His finger slipped into your cunt, slowly and gently fucking you and soon adding a second at your body’s willingness to partake. Your walls clenched around him, the cold metal of his ring nudging your skin every time he thrust his fingers in. He curled them upwards, gently testing how aroused you were and your toes curled in response at the pressure on that spot inside you, Dutch watching with infatuation as you took in his soaked fingers.

His thumb slid down, pressing onto your hole and you couldn’t help but squirm again. It moved off, and when it returned there was a cool substance there, almost like jelly. “It’ll help,” Dutch murmured when he noticed your expression and circled it around, toying with the pressure and on the next thrust in of his fingers he attempted to penetrate your ass with his thumb, but your thighs tensed at the intrusion.

“Arthur,” Dutch said, breaking the man out of his hazy obsession with your breasts. “I’m gonna need you down here to help her relax.”

Arthur glanced at you and you offered him a short nod, apprehensive at how it would feel but knowing you were still willing to try. He trailed kisses down your stomach, pulling your lips apart to get a look at you and groaning at the site. He drew the tip of his finger down the line of your slit, slowly collecting your juices and coming back up again. Your torso relaxed and you dropped your head back, Dutch’s fingers pulling out so Arthur’s could slide in. Dutch opted for using his tongue once more, drawing over your hole with his tongue flat, and Arthur took some inspiration, bringing his mouth down on your pussy to gently suck on your clit.

“Oh... my god,” you breathed, both of their tongues working to build up your pleasure and you grasped at the sheets and widened your legs as much as you could.

“You like that, darlin’?” asked Dutch, muffled thanks to his current position.

“Mhm,” was all you could respond with, and Arthur doubled down on his efforts, lapping at your cunt while Dutch slid a finger into your ass. It was a different kind of feeling, but you didn’t have the urge to wriggle away this time.

“That’s it,” Dutch cooed, “lean into that feelin’.”

And you did. You moved your hips in time with his motions, feeling yourself relax with Arthur diligently tending to you with his tongue. Your body throbbed, arousal coming through you in waves but you still needed more, one taste being more than enough to make you greedy. “More,” you whispered, and within moments Dutch slowly pushed a second finger in to join the first.

This time it felt like more of a stretch, thankfully not painful but enough that you actively had to focus your mind on the pleasure, breathing steadily and fighting against the urge to close your legs. They continued, each lick and thrust bringing you closer to the brink and you moaned, bringing your hands to grip Arthur’s head as he sucked on just the right spot.

“Arthur, I’m gonna -” you warned, and the man groaned like he was eating his favourite meal.

“I wanna taste you, come on,” he said, barely taking his mouth off you to speak and relishing in being held down to your pussy like this. Dutch took the opportunity to add a third finger, not wanting to hurt you when the time came for him to use his cock, and the fullness along with the attention on your clit made your legs shake and you pushed your hips up, a silent moan punctuated with a stuck breath as you tensed, your orgasm washing through your body as Arthur drank up all you had to give him.

The motion of Dutch’s thrusts slowed but his fingers remained sheathed, and Arthur’s vigorous licking and sucking turned to light kisses as you sunk into the bed. The two men looked up to observe you and you chuckled breathlessly at their flushed faces. “That was...”

“Delightful,” Arthur finished, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and moving up the bed to lie beside you, pressing his lips to yours to give you a taste of yourself. At the same time, Dutch’s fingers left you and he littered your inner thighs with small pecks.

“We ain’t half done yet,” Dutch informed you, and Arthur brushed a strand of hair from your forehead that was stuck there thanks to the sweat.

“You’ve got more in ya, ain’t you darlin’?” he asked lowly, watching your chest in raptures as it rose and fell with your slowing breaths. “I know you got more for us.”

You nodded and opened your eyes to the sight of Dutch making his way to his feet, unbuttoning his pants and revealing a peak at the base of his cock. He appeared to think twice, moving around the bed and tapping your shoulder for you to sit up. You frowned at him.

“I’ve been dying to get into that sweet pussy of yours. Plus, I think Arthur would be happy to taste you again,” he nodded to the man, who raised his eyebrows in agreement.

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m naked.”

“You only just realisin’?” Arthur chuckled and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re both still fully dressed!”

Arthur shrugged at Dutch. “The lady has a point.”

“Fair is fair,” Dutch hummed, unbuttoning his shirt as Arthur pulled his over his head. You smiled, looking between them as various bits of flesh were revealed, and while Arthur kept his pants on, Dutch shunted his down and stepped out of them, revealing his frustrated-looking cock. He settled his hands on his hips while you looked him up and down, almost salivating at the sight of this usually well-put-together man as bare as the day is long. He hummed a laugh and cupped your chin, forcing your gaze up to his eyes. “You are a precious little thing.”

He then tapped your shoulder again and you sat up, allowing him to swing a leg over and pull you up into his chest, wiry black hairs tickling your back. His palms slid around your stomach and he planted a kiss on your shoulder. “A precious little thing that we are going to ruin.”

Arthur crossed his arms, kneeling on the bed between your legs and looking crassly at Dutch. “Thought we couldn’t talk like that because she’s a lady?”

You turned your head to raise your eyebrows at Dutch smugly, who mirrored your expression.

“Do you forget where my tongue has just been, miss?”

Pressing your lips together, you shrunk in on yourself but it only nestled you further into Dutch.

“That’s what I thought. Now if you wouldn’t mind -” his hands ran down to your inner thighs, spreading you open much to Arthur’s delight, “you’re going to let us use you like a good little girl.”

Hearing Dutch talk to you like this was... different. You were so used to giving him a piece of your mind that you itched to do the same right now, except his words liquified your core and much to your dismay, you enjoyed being spoken to like this. It was filthy, he knew it, Arthur knew it, even the damn wardrobe knew it, but you could all relax under the mutual understanding you shared. Filthy was something you were all up for experiencing.

So, you relaxed onto him, bringing a hand down to his cock and rubbing it against yourself, coating it with your own slick. You turned your head again to look over your shoulder at his tense and restrained expression, then pressed your lips to his jaw and took in the scent of arousal dripping off him in his sweat and smiled sweetly. “Your actions gonna match up to your words for once, Dutch?”

Dutch’s gaze snapped to you and Arthur breathed out in disbelief, but you didn’t back down and instead just batted your eyelashes. His lips curled up into a sly smile and he caressed the side of your face, nudging your nose with his and leaning down, your eyes fluttering closed.

He paused a centimetre from your lips, and instead of kissing you sweetly, he thrust his hips and penetrated you right to the hilt.

A surprised choke left you and your head dropped back at the sudden intrusion, your walls tightening around him and your nails digging into his thighs. You opened your eyes to look at him when he held there, finding his jaw hard though his eyes twinkled down at you like you were his new favourite toy. "If you wanna act like a brat, we’ll treat you like one.”

He slowly moved out and then repeated his motion, grunting as he did and Arthur remained kneeled, palming himself over his pants as he watched Dutch defile you. “You certainly are a brave one,” he nodded at Dutch, biting down on his tongue to restrain himself. “How she feel?”

Dutch hummed contently, thrusting into you for good measure and the sound you made was music to his ears. “Warm, tight... just perfect. Like she was made for me.”

Arthur smirked, his fingertips gliding up and down his clothed shaft and you glanced at him with half-lidded eyes, reaching a hand out. He slid his palm onto yours, but you pulled back and reached for his head. Arthur acquiesced to your desires, leaning forward to allow your fingers to grasp the back of his head and pull him down to where you ached.

“What did I say about making demands?” Dutch murmured into your hair, his thrusts now at a more manageable pace.

“Oh, he doesn’t mind,” you scoffed and Arthur paused, lying on his front and leaning on his elbows, glancing up from between your legs.

“Actually, I do.”

“What?”

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I -” you faltered, Dutch stilling inside you and Arthur tilting his head expectantly. You swallowed, determined not to let them win this game. “I want your mouth on me, Arthur.”

His eyes shifted behind you to Dutch, who cleared his throat.

You sighed sharply, and with your arousal currently governing your thoughts, you decided to placate them so you could at least get what you wanted. “And I want you to fuck me, Dutch.”

Arthur’s head moved down an inch, and you attempted to buck into his mouth but Dutch stopped you with his hands on your thighs. “Remember your manners, girl,” he whispered.

“Please. Please... I need to come,” you sighed, resting your head back on Dutch’s chest.

“Fuck,” Arthur muttered, promptly diving into your pussy with a languid stroke of his tongue through your folds. You keened, enough to make Dutch suck a breath through his teeth at the slight shift in angle. He dropped his hands to squeeze your ass, holding you in place and began fucking up into you.

Dutch’s thick cock filling you felt divine, and coupled with Arthur’s talented tongue you hardly knew what to do with yourself, one hand in Arthur’s hair and one hand holding Dutch’s thigh as you attempted to brace yourself through all the sensations.

“I’d have fucked you much sooner if I knew how well you took cock,” Dutch grunted into your hair and you whined, lolling your head to the side to nestle your face into his neck.

“You f-feel so good,” you said through a punched-out breath and the man’s chest vibrated with an approving hum underneath you.

“You like Arthur’s tongue, too?” he asked and you nodded weakly, already feeling overstimulated but too lost in the pleasure to care. “We treat you good, don’t we girl?”

“Yes, Dutch, you -” your sentence broke into a moan, Dutch’s pace slowing as his hands snaked around your stomach. Arthur slowed his pace in turn, looking up at you from his place between your legs.

“Alright, I want a turn with her now,” he stated and you shot him a hazy look, for him to give another teasing lick over your clit.

“Hey,” you scoffed, “I’m not a toy.”

“Tonight, my dear, that’s exactly what you are.” Dutch crooned, kissing your head while he gently fucked you. His lips lowered to your ear. “You like it though; I know you do.” You grumbled in reluctant agreement and Dutch chuckled, his hand stroking your jaw to look up at him, where his thumb placed over your lips. “I think I’ll fuck your mouth, now.”

Blinking at him, you nodded and he kissed you gently, sitting up and making you sit up too. Arthur moved back on his knees, watching while he licked his lips. “Whatchu got in mind?”

“Our girl is going to get on her hands and knees,” Dutch said lowly, brushing his lips down your neck, his moustache tickling your skin. “She’s going to let you stretch her pussy,” he bit down gently on your shoulder, “and she’s going to wrap her pretty mouth around my cock. Aren’t you?”

You could only nod, Dutch’s voice going straight to your core and you wanted to please him, give him the same treatment you’d given Arthur.

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Yes, Dutch.”

“What are you going to let us do?”

“I - I’m going to let you use me.”

“Good.” He put his hands on your shoulders and turned you round to face him and you knelt between his legs, for him to move up into a tall-kneeled position. Palms grasped your ankles and began to pull, so you shifted forward and used your hands to remain steady while Arthur placed you in the ideal position for him to fuck you.

“You look good like this, girl,” Arthur praised, and you looked back at him with lust painted all over your face. He kept the eye contact, finally unbuttoning his pants and making a show of pulling them down and kicking them away, his erect cock stood proud and patient. His eyes glided to your dripping cunt presented to him, and he couldn’t resist giving himself a few pumps for your viewing pleasure in return. You moved your hips back to encourage him and he half-smiled, brushing his palms up your thighs to land on your hips.

Dutch brought a hand into your scalp, righting your position to level your face with his cock. “Open,” he commanded, and you did so willingly.

His cock circled your lips and you brought your tongue out, licking up his head and sampling yourself yet again. He tasted wonderful, musky like Arthur and your mouth watered at the thought. When you brought your head forward to close your mouth around him, his grip remained firm and you blinked up at him where he shook his head.

He didn’t need to explain with words, instead just brought his hips forwards, sliding into your wet mouth to test how deep he could go. He went halfway in, then moved back out, then in again. You hollowed your cheeks and he moaned lowly, head tipping up slightly but eyes not leaving the sight of you.

When Arthur pressed the tip of his cock to your pussy, your whine was muffled around Dutch and he grit his teeth at the vibration, while Arthur pushed into where Dutch had filled you moments previous.

Arthur’s sigh of ecstasy sounded almost pained, and his fingertips dug into your hips as your walls fluttered around the new cock penetrating you. Dutch took turns watching Arthur fuck into you and watching you suck on his cock, turning half-delirious at all the visual stimulation. He started to think you might be his favourite asset of the gang, what with all your... assets.

You brought a hand up to Dutch’s hip, stabilising yourself as his rough fucking of your face continued and you let your jaw go slack. Arthur angled his hips to go deeper and began pounding you, lewd slaps of his flesh filling the room. He lay a palm on your back as his other gripped your ass, moving you towards him slightly every time he thrust in.

“You were right, Dutch,” he mused absentmindedly, “she feels fuckin’ perfect. Darlin’,” he breathed and you hummed despite your full mouth, “I could fuck you all day. So good, so fuckin’ -” Arthur huffed, tensing his jaw and becoming more addicted to you with each snap of his hips.

Dutch let go of your head, the powerful thrusts from Arthur being more than enough movement as each one nudged his cock to the back of your throat. Spit spilt out the sides of your mouth, salty precum coating your tongue and the back of your throat. You slipped a hand in between Dutch’s legs to massage his heavy balls and Dutch hissed at the sensation, muttering “keep going” when you paused to check it was a good reaction.

The head of Arthur’s cock brushed against the sensitive spot embedded in your walls when he rolled his hips and high-pitched moans sounded on repeat from your throat. “That’s it,” Arthur half-whispered, “come on my cock, wanna feel you – you -”

Your back arched, the walls of your cunt repeatedly pulsating around Arthur’s thick length as you did just as he asked.

“We still gonna...” Arthur mumbled, thrusts now deep and slow, though you were already way past the point of over-stimulation as you drifted down from your high.

“Y-yeah,” Dutch slid his cock from your mouth, wiping the thick trail of spit that connected the two of you together from your lips. He gripped his hand around your neck and lifted your front up so your back pressed against Arthur’s muscular chest and abdomen, and you gasped at the alteration of position. Dutch pressed his torso into yours and stuck his tongue into your mouth, holding you in position while you grasped at his sides.

He kissed you deep and passionately while Arthur kissed and nibbled on your neck, eventually using all his might to still his thrusts. Dutch relented too, panting and pressing his forehead against yours. “You think you can take us both now, sweet girl?”

You nodded immediately, hoping to reach your peak for a third time and focused on Arthur’s calloused hands as they brushed up and down your flank. You wrapped your arms around Dutch’s neck, feeling as though you might fall if you didn’t use him for support.

“Make me proud, darlin’,” he cooed, giving you a final kiss and nodding at Arthur to switch positions. Dutch held you up as Arthur slid out, moving around to sit beside Dutch and hold you against him while Dutch moved to kneel behind you.

“You want it, pretty girl? Want both of us to fuck you at the same time?” Arthur asked as you moved to straddle him, his cock leaking and desperate for more as it lay flat on his stomach.

You brought a hand up to caress his stubble, and he looked almost sweet with his red cheeks and those shining blue eyes looking up at you like you were some sort of angel. To him, you were, glowing from the sheen of sweat covering your body as you sat above him, entirely lost on chasing your pleasure as you smiled down at him. “Don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything so much in my life,” you huffed dreamily.

“That’s our girl,” Dutch said, giving your ass a smack and kissing your shoulder, Arthur biting down on his lip as he continued to stare at your body. “Think you can wait a little longer, Arthur?”

“Sure,” he nodded reluctantly, understanding it may not be the best idea for Dutch to enter you while he was already sheathed. That didn’t mean he couldn’t touch you, though, and ushered you forward a little so your breast was in grabbing distance for him to occupy himself with.

Dutch pressed more of the cool substance onto your hole, coating his cock with it and then testing your readiness with a couple of his fingers. You sighed, leaning back onto them and he and Arthur smirked at each other.

“Easy, girl,” Arthur cooed, not unlike the way he spoke to his mare though you didn’t give that thought any attention, “you’ll get yours.”

Dutch’s palm came onto your back to urge you down so you were leant entirely over Arthur. He rubbed your ass that now sported a red splotch thanks to him, and pressed a kiss to your lower back. He nodded at Arthur without your knowledge, who proceeded to pull you closer by way of distraction. He trailed his fingertips up your sides, around your front and into your hair, pushing it away from your face and then leaning up to kiss you, gently pulling you down as he lowered his head to the bed.

Arthur nipped playfully at your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open and diving his tongue in to experience you once more. He hadn’t expected the kissing to be one of his favourite parts of this. Holding a hand to the back of your head, you didn’t have much choice but to keep it going but gasped when Dutch pressed the head of his cock to your ass.

“Easy,” Arthur repeated, his lips only a centimetre from yours and began kissing you again while Dutch paused.

“Be good for me, darlin’,” Dutch purred, pressing his cock forward again experimentally. “I know you can take it.”

You calmed your breathing, not realising it’d sped up and when Dutch breached you with the end of his thick cock you moaned loudly, screwing your eyes closed at the stretch.

“Want me to -”

“No,” you grouched, “god no. Keep going.”

Dutch chuckled, pushing in further while Arthur lavished your neck with wet pecks and licks, keeping your head held still and caressing your chest with his other hand. He pinched your nipple at the same time Dutch edged further in once again, the stretch coming a little easier now. You groaned through gritted teeth, shifting your hips back to take the rest of him, not stopping until your ass met his hips.

With a hand squeezing each ass cheek, Dutch’s chest vibrated with a growl. “God damn.”

“We knew you could do it,” Arthur said absentmindedly, still focused on using his lips to taste every inch of your skin.

It was an unusual sensation to say the least, you knew you’d be sore in the morning but there was something tantalising about being filled this way, and Dutch’s reaction made it all the more worthwhile. He shifted himself out a little and offered you a short thrust, digging his fingertips into your skin at the moan that left you. With his and Arthur’s hands holding you down, you attempted to shift your hips, urging him in to let him know that it was okay. He did another small thrust and you huffed hoarsely. “More.”

Dutch paused, letting out a tense breath. “What have I told you about telling me what to do?”

You whined pitifully, desperate to come again and knowing that despite appearances Dutch didn’t want to risk hurting you. But you knew it was okay, and you knew you wanted more. “I don’t care,” you breathed. “More. Please.”

With a pleased hum, Dutch trailed his palm up your spine and back down to your lower back to hold you down. “Fuck her, Arthur.”

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice, already starved of you and ceased his affections on your neck, grasping his cock and lining up with your entrance. Before he could thrust up, the pressure from Dutch’s hand increased and he pushed you until Arthur was completely inside you, your knees widening to accommodate the distance and gasping at the feel of his cock sliding in.

You couldn’t describe it. It was like all the air had been pushed from your lungs, feeling almost too full with both of their hard cocks nestled comfortably in you. It felt so dirty to be used like this by a pair of outlaws, but that only made the whole thing more enjoyable.

Arthur’s palms came to either side of your rib cage, unsure who was supporting who and took a deep breath while watching the ecstasy grow on your face. He ground his hips into you and your walls clenched, Dutch nestling his hips against your ass. Neither man seemed to want to be the first to thrust, so you rose forward slightly and sank back, whimpering as the two cocks filled you once more.

“N-No,” Arthur stuttered, gently brushing his hands over your skin, "you keep yourself still". He began to slowly thrust into you, Dutch obliging your needs all the same and it was like the repeated flicking of a switch as both your holes demanded your focus. But you couldn’t, the sensations began to merge as they picked up a rhythm, one sliding in as the other slid out.

You moaned a blissful moan, hands splaying on Arthur’s chest while he stared up, infatuated with the bounce of your tits.

“You like that?” Dutch grit out, fingertips sinking further into your skin, “like being used like a common whore?”

“Mhm,” you agreed through a breath, revelling in the repeated stretch.

Dutch pushed his hips forwards hard, jolting you forward and Arthur let out a strangled groan. Both men increased their pace, Dutch grunting with each thrust and Arthur panting.

They ravished you as though it was the first and last time, fucking you more senseless than you already were until your thoughts were nothing other than a merry band of delightful sensations. Dutch’s big hand squeezing your ass cheek, Arthur’s attempt at grabbing every part of you, and of course the ruthless pounding into your body as you whined into the sweaty air.

“You’re doin’ so good, darlin’,” Arthur ran his hand lovingly up your flank and to your ass, gently squeezing the flesh there. “So fuckin’ good.”

Babbles of their names fell from your lips, becoming the only two words you could remember as they took you deep and hard, growing comfortable with taking the risk. At this point, you didn’t care too much if it did hurt; the pleasure far outweighing the pain.

Dutch fisted a hand into your hair, dragging your torso up and you squeaked a little as he pulled your head back to meet his eyes.

“Don’t lose yourself yet, darlin’,” he warned and you tried to nod but his hold on you was too solid. Instead, you blinked at him and he understood your response well enough.

“Dutch,” you whispered, eyes falling shut as both of them fucked you at the change in angle, the brush of the heads of their cocks over your walls the only thing you could focus on.

“You’re our girl now,” he affirmed and you dropped your fucked-out gaze to Arthur’s. “All ours to fuck.”

“Yes,” you whined, debating alleviating yourself of all other responsibilities to be at the service of these two outlaws. “All yours.”

“Jesus,” Arthur hissed, gripping your thighs as he bucked up and dropped his head back onto the bed.

Dutch curled his hand around your throat, cold rings nudging your windpipe and restricting your airflow. Feeling deliciously floaty you hummed, fluttering your eyes shut while Dutch pulled you into his sweaty chest and held you there in the perfect position, their cocks angling in such a way that made you content to stay like this forever. Or at least until you blacked out from the choking, you weren’t choosy.

Arthur tested your stimulation with a brush of his fingers, revelling in how you seemed to pull away and push closer at the same time, not really sure what you wanted at this point. He circled you expertly and you relaxed some more, pleasure pulsing from three different places with Dutch gathering your wrists behind your back and holding you there. Your shoulders drew back, the only movement you could manage thanks to the stubborn grip he had on your neck, tremors journeying up your toes and fingers.

Dutch briefly relieved your neck and brought his hand to rest on your lower abdomen. “Feel that?” he breathed in your ear with a crack in his voice while he pushed down slightly. “Surprised we’ve not split you in two.”

With a dark chuckle, Arthur latched his fingernails onto your thighs while he bit down on his tongue, savouring every inch of you with the hopes of reliving the experience time and time again in the comfort of his tent.

“You’re taking us so well,” he praised, punctuating his sentence with a groan. “Wanna... fill you right to the brim with me.”

You nodded weakly, unable to move again when Dutch resumed his grip on your neck, but it was enough of an agreement for them and they doubled down their efforts, drilling into you like their lives depended on it.

“Don’t stop,” you sobbed, eyes screwed tight and watering.

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to, darlin’.” Arthur huffed, face hardening with a deep thrust as a bead of sweat meandered down his temple.

Both cocks drove into you at the same time, flipping between almost-empty and too-full until you no longer felt like you had any control over your body. The squeeze somehow felt tighter and you pulsed, both of them groaning at your responsiveness while you whimpered pathetically.

“Please, please,” you begged, wondering if perhaps you couldn’t come one more time for them but neither man planned on stopping until you did, proving you entirely wrong when Arthur pinched your clit and his cock pressed directly onto the soft spot in your walls while Dutch’s cock made your ass it’s new favourite place.

“So good for us,” he murmured on your hair. “Such a spirited thing, thinking you have... any,” he groaned as he searched through his aroused mind for words, “any control over us. We practically own you now, darlin’. Ain’t n-no way you’re getting away with being a brat again.”

“’S almost cute,” Arthur chuckled through his laboured breaths.

“Does,” you struggled to swallow against Dutch’s palm, “does it mean you’ll do it... again? I-If I defy you?”

“Defy me or not,” Dutch purred, “there’s no way I could go a day without fuckin’ you like this.”

He sucked your neck as they both stretched and pushed into you, arousal thrumming through your veins at being nothing short of a vessel for them. The knowledge of what your body did to them was wonderful. Filthy, but wonderful.

“S-Shouldn’t have let two men have you like this, s-sweetheart,” Arthur muttered, “you’ll never get rid of us.”

Dutch hummed his agreement and you felt like you would explode, passion and want filling you to the brim along with their cocks and you whined, high-pitched and desperate as your legs began to shake, the urge to relieve yourself coming on strong. “Give it to me, please. Please, please, please...”

That was as much as Arthur could handle, you begging and shaking and restrained awoke something within him and he pushed in as far as he could. His warmth filling your insides as his cock throbbed was the final straw and you gushed all over him, more than you’d ever seen come from yourself as it squirted from you and onto his hand.

“Fuck,” Arthur gawked at the sight of your mess, prompting Dutch to let go of your neck and you took in a deep breath when his hand joined Arthur’s to coat his fingers in your release.

“Holy shit,” he groaned and buried himself to the hilt, satisfied to finally make his claim on your body, thick ropes of his cum filling your ass.

You dropped forward, unable to co-ordinate yourself and Arthur caught you, gently pulling you into his chest and you honed in on the rise and fall of it, his breaths skimming over the top of your head. Dutch leaned a hand on your back, an attempt at soothing you but ending up using you to keep himself upright.

“She okay?” he forced out the words to Arthur, squeezing his eyes shut as he emptied the last of his load into you.

Arthur craned his neck and you blinked up to him with a small nod. “Feel like I’m floating.”

The three of you remained still, bodies vibrating with energy in unison and heartbeats slowing along with your breathing. Time didn’t feel real, the walls of reality blurry and unimportant while your body came down from being so thoroughly used. You were aware when Dutch pulled out, his cum trickling from you while Arthur kissed the crown of your head, keeping you held against his strong chest.

You shifted slightly, realising Arthur was manoeuvring you to nestle into his side as he unsheathed himself when Dutch’s hand pried open your leg and you blinked down as he wiped a cloth over you, not before admiring the cum dripping out of your debauched holes. He cleaned you up the best he could and you sighed contently into Arthur as he ran his fingers through your hair soothingly.

Dutch dropped onto your other side, out of breath and the three of you blinked up at the ceiling for some time while you returned to your bodies.

The thrumming in your veins dropped to a low hum that you suspected would stay there for a while, and with you still angled towards Arthur, Dutch lazily draped an arm over your midsection and curled protectively around you.

No words were needed, three bodies in perfect harmony and understanding while you comfortably drifted into a well-deserved rest. Dutch and Arthur glanced at each other when your body grew heavy, a silent agreement that they would protect you with their lives at all costs. And that they were absolutely, without a doubt, doing that again sometime.

#would you believe only 10% of this is backstory #i got carried away but who wouldnt #arthur morgan x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #arthur morgan x dutch van der linde x reader #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #rdr2 fanfic #request #writing #my stuff

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senditcolton · 2 years

Note

For your birthday prompts (happy happy!) what about #25 with Josty perhaps? Please and thank you!

this one is smut not spice. and not vague smut like a previous blurb, this shit is explicit so 18+ only please and thank you.

One look and I am sold, you've got me on my knees.

“Hey, babe, I don’t mean to rush you but we need to go.” You hear Tyson’s voice carry into the bedroom from the adjacent living room and you can faintly hear the rustling of paper and jingling of keys as Tyson gets everything ready for your departure.

It was the night of the Sabre’s holiday party, thrown at Alex Tuch’s house and Tyson was nervous. You understood his desire to arrive in a timely manner, make a good impression. After being traded twice in less than six months, he wanted to show that he was here to stay and that he was a good teammate and even better friend. You understood that.

But you also weren’t sure why he still felt he needed to prove himself. You hated how these trades had changed him, made him doubt himself and his abilities. Everyone in Buffalo loved him, the team started winning as soon as he started playing and from all intents and purposes, every one of his new teammates seemed to love having him around. You missed the confident fun Tyson that you knew, one who wanted to better himself because that’s who he was, not because he thought he was forced to just to survive.

You hoped that this night with everyone else would bring him back.

With a final sigh and a last-minute check of your hair and makeup, you open the bedroom door and walk into the living room to see Tyson pacing, his shoes already on and his hair one of his hands running through his hair. He hears your footsteps and doesn’t even turn to look at you before he is moving towards the counter, ready to grab the keys and White Elephant gift, his words moving at a mile a minute.

“Okay, ready to go? It takes about 30 minutes to get to Alex’s house from where we’re at and that means we might be a little late but I don’t really know if there is a set time but you know, I want to get there early, maybe help out with any last-minute decorations or food or –”

You gently cut him off by grabbing his wrist, drawing his attention to you. His eyes finally connect to yours and you hold his gaze, steady and strong as you gently remove the items from his hands, just so you can replace them with your own fingers.

Tyson’s eyes are still locked on to your frame as you inhale deeply, a silent cue for him to copy you. The two of you continue like this for a moment, your calming presence helping to calm him down. It’s when you believe he has finally settled do you speak.

“Tyson,” you say gently, one hand moving to cup his jaw, thumb running over the stubble there. “Breathe. They love you. Everyone loves you. You don’t need to burn yourself out trying to get their approval or their respect. You can do that by being yourself; that fun, light-hearted yet passionate and driven person that I know you are. The person that I fell in love with.”

You smile as you watch the tension leave Tyson’s frame, that adorable crooked smile appearing on his face.

“What did I do to deserve someone like you,” he muses, causing your heart to do somersaults in your chest. He leans into to give you a small kiss and you thought that would be the end of it but Tyson’s free arm wraps around your waist keeping you pressed to him as he continues to speak.

“How did I get so lucky to be dating someone as kind and caring and beautiful and fucking sexy as you are,” he whispers, and your next words die on your lips as you watch Tyson’s eyes shamelessly rake down your body, feeling your breath catch in your throat when his eyes connect back to yours, the fire within them clear.

“You are stunning baby,” he says, pulling your chin up so his lips meet yours. His hands trace down your sides and you whine into his lips at the shiver that he sends rushing through your body. Tyson’s lips fall from yours, down your jawline to the soft skin on your neck. A soft moan escapes you as you feel one of his hands slip underneath the hem of your dress, gently caressing the skin of your upper thigh, a moan that Tyson hears and which draws his attention back to your face, his hungry eyes sending a rush of heat to your core.

“I thought you said we have to leave,” you ask breathless, Tyson’s hand still resting on your thigh.

“You were right. We don’t have to get there first. The start time is more of a suggestion than anything else,” Tyson explains, his body moving to press you deeper into the living room until the back of your knees hit the edge of the couch, a gasp falling from your lips.

“What has gotten into you?” you laugh, the humor seeping in to try and distract yourself from the warmth that was slowly growing in your abdomen. Your teasing was effectively silenced when you felt Tyson’s fingers creeping close to your core and you can’t stop your body from reacting, hips rolling towards him in desperation.

“I’m just trying to show my appreciation for my amazing girlfriend,” he explains, his voice light despite his actions making you feel the exact opposite. “Can I not show her how much I love her?”

As soon as the question fell from his mouth, Tyson’s fingers connected with your core and you couldn’t stop the moan that he pulled from you. He stroked your folds through the fabric of your panties, your arousal soaking through the thin lace and Tyson lets out a similar groan at the feeling of you so wet for him. You found your previous resolve weakening with every continuation of his movements against your core, as he presses soft kisses into your neck, his lips moving up to land by your ear.

“Please baby, let me make you feel good,” he whispers as his fingers deftly slip under the fabric of your panties, finally connecting with your cunt and pressing against your clit. Another moan rips from your chest as you grind your hips against him, amazed at how wound up he makes you and amazed at the quick transformation from the nervous wreck he was a few minutes before. This was the confident Tyson that you had missed and you’d be damned to stop him now.

“Yes,” you breathe out, accepting his offer and watching as a smile crosses Tyson’s lips. Tyson’s hand disappears from your core and you whine at the loss of contact. Your whimper quickly turns into a moan as Tyson pulls you into a passionate kiss, your hands tangling in his hair as his grips your waist tight. You gasp into the kiss as he effortlessly leans you down, placing you onto the soft cushion of the couch.

Your legs open to allow him to press closer to you and Tyson quickly occupies the space as his hands trace up your body, dancing along your breasts, teasing them through the fabric as he continues to kiss you. You mewl into kiss as his hands jump down to gather your skirt, pulling over your hips to expose your core.

Tyson’s lips start to follow the familiar path across your jaw and down your neck, never pausing in one spot, careful not to leave any marks on your skin, knowing that he’ll have plenty of time to do that once you two return from the party. He drags his lips across your collarbones and down your sternum and you are certain he can feel your heartbeat pounding out of your chest. Your hips buck up towards him, silently pleading for him to move to the area that you needed him most.

Finally, Tyson moves lower, his knees dropping into the plush rug in front of the sofa as his hands travel up the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips to help him pull the lace down your legs. Your legs attempt to close when the cool air of the apartment hits your warm core but Tyson’s hands are instantaneous, pulling your thighs back open and you gasp at the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin. He places kisses up your inner thighs, putting his lips everywhere but where you wanted him.

“Tyson, please,” you whine above him, your hips once again bucking towards him. The only reply you receive is a small chuckle at your desperation before he finally, finally, places his mouth over your soaked pussy.

You throw your head back against the cushion, your back arching as his tongue traces up your slit. He moans at the taste of you and the vibrations send a shuddering jolt up your body. His mouth moves against you, his tongue dipping in and out of your folds and you can’t stop the soft moans and muted curses that fall from your lips. He licks a bold stripe up your cunt and when his lips close around your clit, the moan that is ripped from your chest is downright pornographic.

“Fuck, Tys,” you cry out, your legs tightening around him. He looks up at you from his position between your thighs, his eyes connecting with yours and you let out another moan at the sight of his face buried in your core.

His lips never leave your clit, his tongue moving to flick over the bundle of nerves, skillfully bringing you closer and closer to the peak, the familiar feeling of your orgasm tightening in your lower stomach. You gasp when you feel two of Tyson’s fingers slip into you, slowly pumping them in and out, your walls fluttering around him, his tongue never stopping his ministrations against your clit. He curls his fingers and perfectly hits that sweet spot, causing you to bolt upright from the couch, your one of your hands moving to tangle in his hair.

“Oh god, fuck baby, right there,” you whine and Tyson lets his fingers graze over that spot once again, pulling another moan from you as you collapse back onto the couch as Tyson continues the movements of both his fingers and his tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You dissolve into a mess above him, your head thrown back and your free hand gripping the edge of the cushion so tightly you were almost worried you might rip it.

“Fuck. Fuck, Tyson, please,” you breathe out, the pressure in your stomach threatening to burst. Tyson lets his teeth gently scrape over your clit and the combination of that, his tongue, and his fingers still pounding into your g-spot, the coil in you snapped and your orgasm crashed over you. You cry out his name as his movements never cease, prolonging your pleasure for as long as he could.

The aftershocks cause you thighs to tremble around him as you slowly come down. Tyson’s lips and tongue are still moving against you, cleaning every last drop of your cum from you before he finally removes his fingers. His hand raises up to your face, his fingers gently tapping against your mouth and you close your lips around them, moaning at the taste of yourself and the still gentle movements of Tyson against your core.

Eventually, his mouth disappears as he raises his body up to hover over you, watching you with is pupils blown wide before he removes his fingers, quickly replacing them with his lips and you melt into him.

You feel Tyson gently pulling down your dress, moving your legs over and you gasp when he grips your hips once again, this time he pulling you up off the couch. Your knees shake a little from the aftershocks of your orgasm and Tyson holds you tight until you find your balance again. He breaks away from you as you smooth down fabric of your dress and your hair, trying to piece yourself back together again. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tyson lean down and pick something off the floor. You realize that it is your panties and you hold your hand out to take them from him. Tyson doesn’t hand them to you, instead choosing to stuff them into his back pocket.

“I don’t think you’ll be needed them later tonight,” he chuckles and you blush at the mere insinuation of what’s to come. Tyson leads you to the front door, placing your coat around you before grabbing the keys and present before ushering you towards the door, his hand heavy on the small of your back.

“Come on, let’s make an appearance at this party so we can leave as soon as possible,” he laughs and you can’t stop the giggle that falls at Tyson’s words, happy to have your beautiful amazing boyfriend back by your side.

#nicole writes #trinity of terror prompt night #i want tyson jost between my legs is that too much to ask?#tyson jost blurb #tyson jost smut #buffalo sabres blurb #(< still really weird)#nhl blurb #hockey blurb

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voiceoffenrisulfr · 8 months

Text

In the Dark of the Night

Summary: From the world of Multitudes (can mostly be read as a standalone smutfest though). Clint and Buck can’t remember the last time they had some time alone, so decide to go camping for a night and get away from the pressures of parenthood. The usual sexytimes ensue.

Prompts fulfilled: ‘Bigger is Better in Bed’ – Multifandom Flash (Beehive); ‘Skinny Dipping’ and ‘Camping’ – Marvel Rare Pair Round 3; ’27. Outdoor Event’ – Flufftober; ‘Sex Toys’ – Build a Bucky Bingo; ’13. Restraints’ – Whumpcember.

CW: All the sex. Only a shade short of PWP. Check it out on AO3 here or below the cut with the cards!

“This is harder than I remember,” Clint grumbled, fighting with a metal pole, his brow furrowed in frustration. I couldn’t help but grin, reclined with my feet up on a cooler, sipping at a bottle of beer. ‘Are you sure you don’t want any help?’ I offered again when his eyes were pointed toward me, the bottle between my knees to sign one-handed. We were both still adjusting somewhat to the realities of living without our aids that made us seem ‘normal’ to the wider society – but we were both also happier without them. Clint’s headaches were all but none-existent, and the pain in my shoulder was significantly reduced without the constant muscle engagement. We were both less grumpy, better fathers and husbands than we’d ever envisioned ourselves being. But, coming up to the third anniversary of our first date, we’d realised it’d been a very long time since we’d had any time just the two of us. With two kids under three and five (six, in Clint’s case) other partners to keep amused, there just weren’t enough hours in the day – not to mention our residual Avenger duties, and taking the kids to the compound to keep the team happy. But here we were, in the middle of the National Park – no more than an hour away from home, just in case – with a tent, a cooler full of beers… And a bag I’d kept from Clint’s eyes, packed with things to make our evening more entertaining. “Do you think they’re doing okay?” he mused as he finally maneuvered the poles into place, frowning minutely. I stood to wrap my arm around his waist, my chin finding his shoulder. ‘They’re absolutely fine, honey. I promise. And we can be there in less than an hour if we’re needed – hell, I’m pretty sure if it was an actual emergency, Steven would be hunting us down.’ His head tipped back with a soft sigh, leaning into the curve of my neck. “I know, I know. I just… I haven’t spent a night away from the kids since they were born. It feels weird not to have Artemis climbing something she shouldn’t, or Apollo wanting an extra story before bed…” I smiled fondly, nuzzling into his hair. I couldn’t deny that I was preoccupied with the same thoughts – but if I too let myself dissolve into worry, we’d end up leaving before the tent was ever erected. ‘Well, the Spiders and Steve will take good care of them. They love those two crazy kids as much as we do, sweetheart. Everything is gonna be okay.’ With another sigh, he nodded, turning to wrap his arms around my neck. “I know you’re right. It’s just weird being away from them, you know?” My lips found his softly, reassuringly, hand at the base of his spine to pull him closer, occupied by holding him and forcing him to lipread. “I know. But I plan to keep you plenty occupied, don’t you worry.’ “Oh?” He grinned broadly, pressing gentle kisses along my jaw and eliciting a quiet purr. “Mhm. Can’t remember the last time we weren’t in earshot of the kids, too…” My fingers tightened, digging gently into his waist to hold him more firmly against me, and he whimpered gently in response. “Intending to have your way with me, Sergeant Barnes?” he breathed, whining when I pulled his hair to expose his throat to my teeth and tongue. “Always, Hawkeye,” I murmured, nipping gentle bruises into the soft skin over his pulse before shifting away, leaving him panting lightly. “But I think you have a tent to finish assembling first.”

It was still half-light by the time we’d made camp, so we decided to head down toward the lake, the cooler hanging between the two of us. “I wish I had both hands so I could sign,” I grumbled, making him roll his eyes good-naturedly. “If I had my hearing aids, you wouldn’t have to,” he pointed out. “But they’re at the bottom of a very deep lake, and your arm is only for emergencies these days. And we’re both better for it… Right?” he added, a minute frown flickering across his face. “Right,” I agreed readily. I didn’t regret my choice most of the time, but moments when I couldn’t sign to my husband were endlessly frustrating, even now. “I’d far rather lipread on occasion than either of us suffer.” He leant over to kiss me lightly, and I grinned, eyes flicking to the side automatically at the shimmer of dying sunlight on water reflected on his face. “I’d far rather see you wet and naked than fully dressed right now, Barton.” With a soft laugh, he left the cooler on the sand, heading toward the water as he worked on his clothes. The sight of the exposed skin of his back spurred me into action, jerking eagerly at my belt and kicking off my shoes haphazardly as I stumbled forward. By the time I’d caught up to him, he’d already shed his jeans, and turned to me with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his boxers. “Care to do the honours?” No sooner had he spoken than I was on my knees, tugging hungrily at the material. Polycules and toddlers didn’t leave us much time for the simple pleasures in life, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been able to take my time with him – sex these days was typically quick and dirty, often stolen in a layby after running an errand or with one eye on a monitor to make sure the kids were okay. It’d been some time since we’d been truly intimate, and even longer still since we’d done so just the two of us. I certainly can’t remember the last time I did this, I noted, trailing the very tip of my tongue over his length slowly, one hand tanging in my hair to ground himself as he let out a low groan. “I can’t remember the last time you did this,” he breathed, making me smile as I took him between my lips patiently, revelling in the feeling of him getting harder on my tongue. “Fuck, I forgot how goddamn good you are, James…” With a soft purr, I bobbed my head slowly, sucking pre-come from his tip before drawing away and making him whimper. “Now, now…” I murmured, standing to kiss him deeply and feeling him tremble at the taste of himself on my lips. “We have all night, my love. I intend to take my sweet time with you.” His hands fumbled as he unbuttoned my jeans, sliding my shirt over my head as I kicked them free, his fingertips trailing the ragged scar at my shoulder and eliciting a shiver. “What if I don’t want to wait?” he whined, palm pressing against my half-hard cock through my boxers, making me hiss through clenched teeth. “A needy boy, aren’t you?” I chuckled, smirking when he nodded desperately. “At least let us get back to the tent, honey. I doubt any of our partners will be amused at having to pick us up from a police station for indecent exposure.” Clint met my eye, grinning, and we snorted in unison. “Yeah, okay – Ashe would probably get a kick out of it.” Our most deviant Spider would almost certainly be delighted by having to fetch us after being caught fucking on the beach – if anything, they’d simply be sad they missed the show. With a light-hearted sigh, Clint stepped back, placated by the promise of a long night to come, waving a hand as his feet found the water.

I would be a happy man if I never stopped staring at him, I marvelled, watching the last of the twilight dapples fade from his still-damp flesh. I don’t know what I did to deserve him. “You’re staring,” he murmured without opening his eyes, one hand shifting to take a long sip of his beer. “I can’t help myself,” I replied honestly, rolling onto one side to survey him more thoroughly. “You’re breathtaking.” He was lay stretched out on a towel beside the campfire, the leaping shadows cast by the flames dancing over his tanned skin, coloured by the years spent on our farm and running around in fields, chasing child and dog alike. A light blush dusted his cheekbones, barely perceptible in the low light, and he offered me a lazy smile. “I don’t know how you keep your hands off me.” “Neither do I,” I agreed, moving to lay beside him, palm smoothing over his chest. His eyes closed automatically, a smile pulling at his lips as my fingertips brushed his abdomen. With a soft, happy sigh, I closed my fingers around his half-hard length, leaning closer to kiss him lightly. “I’ve missed this,” I admitted quietly. “I love our life, but…” He nodded, shifting closer to me, one hand tangling in my hair. “But sometimes you miss having a little more time to ourselves?” I nodded back, and he grinned, lips brushing mine. “We have two kids, sweetheart. I think every parent misses having more time to themselves – even when there’s a whole hoard of them to keep the kids entertained. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I’ve missed you too,” he added, shifting his hips infinitesimally closer, one eye opening to find mine. A low growl resounded in my chest, and I moved quickly, my hand finding his wrists and pinning them over his head to keep his body extended and still beneath me. He let out a soft whine of delight, neck straining to seek my lips with his, but I simply straddled his waist, letting my cock nudge against his teasingly. “My poor, neglected Hawk,” I murmured, tracing my lips along his jaw. “It’s been so long since you had me all to yourself…” He nodded frantically, writhing beneath me and pushing himself closer, making me smirk. “You know, I’ll still never forget the very first time you fucked me – the day we announced Artie to the team, with the Spiders’ eyes on you as you realised just how good I felt wrapped around your cock…” He swallowed dryly, nodding again, his lips parted with need. “I- I didn’t expect- I didn’t think it would be so… That you would be so…” “Amazing? Incredible, flawless, irresistible… Tight?” I added, dropping my voice to a whisper and rutting my hips gently against his. “All of the above,” he gasped, back arching. “Please- God, it’s been so long. I need you, James.” His words fanned the flames burning in my abdomen, and I surrendered with a groan, claiming my mouth with his hungrily and rutting against him, lost in the sensation of his cock pressed against mine. “Want to fuck me, baby boy?” “God, yes,” he groaned, wriggling beneath me once more. “Please- Please, Buck- James, I-I need-” He didn’t get chance to finish his sentence as I shifted my hips, lining him up against my ass and grinning as his eyes grew wide. “Don’t you- Should we-”

My fingers released his wrists and found the small bag I’d packed, quickly pouring a copious amount of lubricant in my hand as his eyebrow raised in interest, neck straining to peer into my bag of tricks. I smirked, kissing him softly. “I’m a big boy, Clint…” My hand slicked over his length, eliciting a shiver, and I let his tip slide inside me slowly, revelling in his trembling, taut body, eyes blown wide as I took his cock patiently. “Mm- and so are you… God, I forgot just how big you are, Hawk…” His fingers found my hips, guiding me along his length, panting softly in pleasure. “I forgot how tight you are, James… Fuck, you feel incredible- I can’t believe how long it’s been since w-” I cut him off with a twitch of my hips, eliciting a sharp groan, his fingers clenching in pleasure as I rode him patiently. My hand moved automatically back to my bag, retrieving a length of rope and a rubber ring. Clint’s eyebrow raised, and I grinned as I tugged him upright, passing the rope around his torso and securing his wrists to his chest. “No touching,” I breathed, pushing him roughly back to the dirt and sliding his cock free, eliciting a whine of frustration, hips straining as best they could to bury himself back inside me. With a soft, soothing hush, I slid the ring along his length, revelling in his whimper of revelation. “James-” I leant forward as I took him once more, kissing him gently and smothering the whine on his lips. “Easy, sweet boy… I don’t want you finishing too quickly, do I? I’ve waited a very long time for this…” My hips twitched, and he gasped quietly, head tipping back in his trussed-up pleasure and frustration. “Fuck- G-Good idea, I… I don’t think I’d-” My hand wrapped around my own pulsing cock as I shifted more quickly, letting out a quiet groan of pleasure. “Fuck, Clint, I forget how good you make me feel…” My back arched as I made the most of his vulnerability, knees clamped to his hips as I worked myself eagerly atop him, already growing ragged and frantic as his tip brushed the vulnerable bundle of nerves when I buried him inside me. “Too good- Christ, I don’t know how long I can-” “Please, James,” Clint rasped, hips twitching desperately, his eyes alight with pleasure when I cut myself off with a desperate whine. “Please- I want you to come for me. Please, sweetheart.” His eagerness and hunger for my ecstasy spurred me along, my fingers tightening around myself as my muscles trembled desperately. “Clint- fuck, I-I-” The words faded into a groan of euphoria as I clenched around him, every inch of my body taut and shaking as I found my climax. He moaned happily as my seed painted his chest, fingers flexing with need, his hips moving as best they could to guide me through my orgasm with sweet care. My body was still quivering and weak as I untied his hands – but he knew the drill well enough, knew that my fatigued form wasn’t a signal for him to stop, but merely to take control and use me like the worn-out sex toy I loved to be. My cheek met the dirt as he pinned me, hands on my hips as he pulled me roughly against him. My own seed was still dripping from his chest as he buried himself inside me, slickening my skin and trailing over my ass. “That’s it, James – keep that ass nice and high for me, that’s a good boy…” I whined under my breath as one hand tangled in my hair, jerking me back against him. “Think I’ll need this ring a little longer if I don’t want to fill you up just yet…”

“We have all night,” I noted, turning my head so he could read my lips, the words coming intermittent and panted as he pounded against me mercilessly. “Pl-plenty of time to recover, t-to go a-ah!-again- fuck, yes, just- just like that, Clint, please!” My cock was filling again already, and his hand shifted to grasp my stiffening length, jerking me in time with his eager thrusts. “I can tell how much you’ve missed me, baby – so desperate for me to spent all evening buried in this tight ass, hm?” I nodded desperately, enamoured by the low, filthy chuckle the motion elicited. “Don’t you worry, my sweet boy; I’ll make sure you’re good and satisfied before we head home.” He pulled out briefly, making me whine as I pressed back, feeling empty and lost – but his tip quickly slid back inside me, bottoming out fully without the ring wrapped around him and causing my fingers to dig into the dirt desperately. “This is what you’ve been waiting for, hm? So needy, so eager for me to fill you up?” I nodded again, rutting back as he slammed into me with bruising force, his hand clenched around me. “Fuck- James- I can’t, I’m-” “Please,” I whimpered, joyous tears pricking my eyes as he unmade me. “Please, Clint. Fill me up. Use me. I’m yours.” His cry was almost feral as he emptied himself inside me, hips never slowing until I spilled yet again, lost in the sensation of his hot seed being fucked further into me and leaking around his cock as he groaned contentedly. “Fuck- That’s it. That’s it. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

I lay with my head on his chest in the dirt, still panting softly, the both of us naked, slick with sweat and sticky with our seed as he caressed my hair gently. ‘I’ve missed this,’ I signed, my movements muted and tired, but no less happy, and he kissed my forehead with a hum. “It’s nice to get away every now and then,” he agreed, holding me a little tighter. “…Though the swim now seems a little redundant, huh?” I grinned as I raised my head, leaning forward to brush my lips to his lightly. “I’d say let’s go again, but I’m sure we’re going to get plenty more filthy before the night is over.”

@flufftober @whumpcember @buckybarnesevents @multifandom-flash @marvelrarepairbingo

#mine #fanfiction #fandom: marvel #writers on tumblr #rating: e #flufftober 2023 #whumpcember #marvel rare pair bingo #multifandom flash bingo #build a bucky bingo 2023 #bucky barnes events #Bucky x Clint #winter soldier x hawkeye #pwp #pwp fics

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whatisreggieshortfor · 2 years

Text

Renewed Fancy

For @sunshinejihyun, MC left unnamed as requested

Gary x MC, former Bobby x MC

She shouldn’t be surprised by the number of people they met that were shocked at the fact that she and Bobby stayed friends after they fell out of love.

At the fact that they kept their place together in Rochester and took up separate bedrooms now.

At the fact they were able to coparent their son, who was starting first grade in a week, without questioning each other’s decisions.

It wasn’t that they didn’t love each other. They loved each other a lot, actually.

They had just fallen out of love.

It was two very different things, and a point she often made known.

Bobby had even gotten a new girlfriend just before their son turned one, and Tuesday had become her second best friend in the world. Only after Bobby himself.

And their son seemed to understand. They had decided to separate the relationship before he was born, before they even knew about him, so by the time he turned six he understood why his mum and dad weren’t together anymore.

But it had been nearly ten years now since the Villa, and they’d had no contact for the most part with more than half of their fellow former Islanders. Social media became a lost option, after a deletion years ago, for keeping up with their lives when the media and the public kept scouting and scouring their pages for any sign to tear them down. Texts came every now and then, but hang outs hadn’t happened in a few years- not since before Nero. She had lost a good bit of her friends from before the show after it ended, they claimed it changed her. But at least she still had a friend in Bobby. It was easy to figure what the others had been up to in their own heads. They knew Lottie was off in America working her make up artist dreams. They knew from the internet that Chelsea, Lucas, Henrik, and Rahim had kept up their old jobs but with more notoriety now. They’ve seen Priya’s name on a clothing brand. Bobby had seen Noah at work in his library, and just a quick search of Hope’s company showed her as the thriving VP. Gary was their biggest question mark. His Nan must not have come around to the idea of a talk show, but they wondered if he was still working with cranes every day.

She ended up getting her answer in a way she didn’t expect.

Driving out to her parents to pick up Nero from his weekend with them, her car died. She called Bobby, let him know that she wouldn’t make it and he was immediately ready to run to meet her after picking him up, but she assured him that she called a tow truck already and just needed to wait.

It was only a few minutes before the truck pulled up, and as the driver climbed out, she recognized a still very familiar head of blonde hair.

“Gary? That you?”

His head snapped up from where it was going over his clipboard of the job, and a brief look a surprise flickered across his face before it was overtaken with a beaming grin, “Mate! I thought I recognized the name, but bloody hell I didn’t think it’d actually be you.”

She giggled, unable to keep her own smile from stretching wider as she raced up to give him a hug, “Bloody hell, thank god it’s you. I get so anxious dealing with strangers in these situations.”

“I’ll take a look, see if it’s not something I can fix now and get ya back on the road, but I need you to keep me company and catch me up on your life. Fair?”

“Fair! But you gotta catch me up on yours, too. We thought you’d still be up in cranes!”

He shook his head with a smile, “You got a deal, mate.”

“Great! Well, as for my life let’s see…” She tapped a finger to her chin and he chuckled at it as he got under the hood and started checking for any issues, “Well, I finished my degree since I last saw you. Got a PhD, actually, which wasn’t even the original plan. Got a job offer with the British Space Programme, but I took a remote job working for NASA now.”

He let out a low whistle as he checked the fluid levels, “Damn, mate. That’s impressive. What about Bobs?”

She beamed, “Bobby’s Boops has been up and running for a few years now. I help out there when I can, he actually had to hire on extra bakers to keep up with demand.”

“You tellin’ me ya learned to bake?”

She gasped, smacking his arm as he chuckled to himself, “Excuse you, I make better pies than he does. But no. I actually help with the business side of things.”

“Good to hear you two are still making things work.”

Her brow furrowed before realization hit, “Oh! Oh, no. We broke up years ago. But we stayed best mates. He’s been seeing someone else for a couple years now.” He looked concerned but she waved him off, “Don’t you worry, Gaz. I actually adore her. And it’s not like exes can’t be friends. You and Lottie got along fine at Chelsea’s Murder Mystery party.” He nodded at that, conceding her point.

They kept talking as he fixed the minor issue, he told her about going back to trade school and getting his certification as a mechanic and how proud it made his nan.

Before she knew it, Gary had her on her way in no time. But she desperately wanted to keep in contact again. So she got his new number- he had to change it after productions kept calling him at work. And a day didn’t go by that one of them wasn’t reaching out to the other.

Gary was finally free for a day to make the short trip to hang out, and she was still busy getting ready when the knock came. Tuesday volunteered to get it for her, and she agreed without a second thought. She’d been living with them for close to four years now, it wasn’t something that often occurred to her.

“Oh, hey, are ya Bob’s sister or something?”

��What? Oh, no, I’m-“

“Gary!” She called, finally entering the living room, “This is Tuesday. Bobby’s fiancé.”

“Not yet!” The other girl squawked.

“Mummy! The monsters got daddy!” The interruption called, little feet padded quickly down the hall, and she spun with ease, scooping up the child.

“The monsters? Oh, no, poor daddy. Is it the one under the bed, or the one in the closet?”

“His closet!”

“The ones in his closet? Oh, no!” She glanced at Gary, who looked stunned. “Gary, you mind helping me take down this monster and then we’ll answer whatever questions are brewing in that big brain of yours.” Tuesday took hold of Nero, gesturing them down the hall as she carried him behind them.

They found Bobby ‘dead’, laying on the floor of his closet, half tucked under the clean clothes Tuesday had been telling him all day to fold and put away. She just shook her head, motioning for everyone to be quiet and she took a broom handle and passed it to Gary with a wink, “For our brave knight.”

He raised an eyebrow but then her son spoke up, “You gotta defeat the monsters, knight!”

Gary laughed at the child’s desperate enthusiasm, before ‘charging’ into the closet and attacking the monsters. Bobby sprung to his feet after, bowing deeply, “Sir Gareth, thank you for your pertinent assistance.” Following it up with a cheeky smile, “Good to see ya, mate.”

“Good to see you, too, Bobs.”

Bobby took hold of their son, claiming it was lunch time, and she took Gary back to the living room. She hadn’t planned much for the day, just a few drinks together while they hung out, but as she stood up to get them he stopped her, “I didn’t realize you and Bobby had a kid.”

“Oh.” She blinked, “Well, we didn’t even realize I was pregnant when we broke up. Around four months in I noticed, and we agreed not to be one of those couples that only stayed together for the child. We have this place together, bedrooms on opposite ends, his in the middle. And he absolutely loves Tuesday. She’s been there since he was one, so she’s just…ya know, his second mum.”

“That’s…incredible, honestly, mate.” Gary gave her a soft smile, and she was almost startled at the things it did to her heart. She knew when she saw him again that the feelings that had been long forgotten were brewing back to the surface, only encouraged by every text they had exchanged in between. Then his grin turned cheeky, “Did I see an Alabama jersey on him?”

She flushed, “Guilty pleasure, okay? I have cousins in the states that bleed Crimson Tide, so I always stream the games. He loves watching with me, so for Christmas last year Tuesday got us matching jerseys for his favorite player.”

He laughed, “That’s actually really sweet.”

It became a weekly hang out at some point. Gary was actually an Alabama fan, too, back from his own sports days when he took an interest in American football, so he took to hanging out with the two of them on Sundays to watch the game. She surprised him with how loud and into the game she would get, but then he watched her mini me imitate it and he found himself getting just as intense. Bobby had taken more pictures than Gary would admit he saved to his phone of the scenes, the three of them wearing jerseys with the same number- he’d never tell anyone that he made one his home screen on his phone.

It only took two months before Bobby cornered him in the kitchen during halftime though, “You fancy her again, dontcha mate?”

Gary choked on his tongue, “Fancy- I never said-“

Bobby snorted, “You don’t have to say anything. I can tell. Just like I know she fancies you, too.”

Gary shook his head, “Doesn’t matter much. She’s got enough on her plate. She’s got you, your lass, him, work, your shop. I don’t need to add to it.”

Bobby’s brow furrowed, but Gary bustled passed him before he could respond. So instead he planned. Planned for a day that didn’t take place for nearly another year.

“Gary!” He almost had to pull the phone away from the loud voice as soon as he answered, setting his tools back into his truck after getting a customer’s car to the shop.

“Bobs, what’s up, mate?”

“Dinner, this weekend. Huge news. Think you can make it?”

Gary glanced at his calendar, not that he needed to. He hadn’t made plans with anyone else but his nan since he’d reunited with them. “Should be able to.”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at five on Saturday. Pack a bag, please.”

Gary raised an eyebrow to himself, but didn’t protest as the call ended. It wouldn’t be the first time he crashed on their couch lately.

Bobby picked him up that weekend, practically bouncing in his seat, and wouldn’t give Gary any details about what was happening, but he did thrust a bag of clothes at him and told him to change into them.

Gary was confused, but accepted, changing into the dress trousers and button up he’d been handed- much different from his usual style and he wondered how Bobby knew his size before figuring he probably gave nan a call. He’d been talking to her a lot since they started hanging out again.

He was surprised again when Bobby pulled up to a fancy restaurant, telling him to give the hostess his name and saying he needed to park the car.

Again Gary didn’t argue. Offering Bobby’s name to the hostess and following her back to a table with one person sitting at it.

Her.

At a table for two.

Oh, he was gonna kill Bobby.

Just as he depending leaving, his phone pinged with a message from Bobby, telling him that he left him there. And before he could reply, she looked up at spotted him, an embarrassed smile taking over her face.

He approached slowly, much slower than he needed to as he took deep breaths, trying to get over how stunning she looked in her dress. “Hey,” she offered shyly, “I guess you’re the blind date Bobby has been talking up for days now. Everything he said fits.”

He snorted, and several of the other patrons shot short glares in his direction, but she flipped them off. “At least you were told it was date.” He offered as he sat down, but he immediately wished he could take it back when he saw the disappointment and insecurity flash across her face before she gave him a careful smile.

“You don’t have to stay.” She shrugged, “I was gonna bail out anyway if it had been someone else. Claim I wasn’t feeling well or something.”

“Not now?” He really didn’t want to be hopeful. But when she was looking at him with those shining eyes that reminded him of all the times he almost chose her in the Villa, only to end up being too late in the line up… “For the record, I’m not against it being a date.” He clarified, “So long as it’s you.”

“Oh yeah?” She grinned cheekily, the mirth in her eyes making them shine brighter, “So you’ve thought about taking me on a date, have you?”

“Only every day since I met ya.” She was clearly shocked at the statement, or maybe the seriousness in which he said it, he just shrugged, “I told ya back then. I fancy ya. A lot. But you had Bobby. So I didn’t push. And it’s not like I didn’t like Lottie. I did.”

“Just wasn’t the same.” She added, her cheeks slightly flushed, “I thought about picking you a time or two. But I was never sure how you felt. And Bobby was always there, never made me feel like I was a back burner. And after Rocco…” they both winced at the mention of what he’d put her through, “I just didn’t want to risk it being a one way thing between us, I guess. And I did fancy Bobby that way. The years I had with him- I don’t regret them. I just mean-“

“I get it.” Gary interjected, gently placing his hand on hers, “You can care for two people the same way, at the same time.” She nodded.

“I’ve never understood that saying, ‘if they fall in love with two people, tell them to choose the second. Because-‘“

“‘Because if they loved you, they wouldn’t have fallen for them.’” He finished, “Never made sense to me either. Just because I had feelings for more than one person, doesn’t mean my feelings for either were worth any less or meant any less.”

“Exactly.” She smiled, hopeful, “What about your feelings now?”

Gary hummed playfully, wrapping his larger fingers around her slender ones, “Now, I would really like to probably wine and dine you. No pressure, just figure out where we are after all these years. Show ya I still fancy you.”

“That sounds really nice.” She agreed.

Dinner sped by, and when she drove them to the flat that evening, he gave her a sweet kiss. Nothing spicy, or sexy, but it was still intense. All the feelings he’d been holding back since they reconnected.

She didn’t let him sleep on the couch either. While they agreed to take things slow, no big bits happening until they were sure, he had to admit it was nice to fall asleep pulling her into a cuddle.

And when they were together for six months, Nero ran up to him as soon as he walked through the front door, “Papa!” Gary couldn’t even react before the little boy, now eight, was throwing himself at him for a hug. All he could do was catch him. He caught her eye too, wide and obviously terrified for his reaction, but Gary just smirked.

“Hey, how’s my favorite little man? You been good for mummy and daddy?”

Nero nodded, “And mum, too! I promise!”

“You promise, huh? Bloody hell, you must’ve been good, then.” He hoisted the boy up with him as he stood up straight, pulling her into his side and pressing a kiss to her head.

“Mummy, when does Papa get to live with us like Mum does?”

Gary watched her eyes bulge, but he just laughed, teasing, “Yeah, mummy. What about Papa?”

To his surprise, she smirked at him, “Whenever he thinks he’s ready.”

God, he was ready. He wanted forever with her. She wasn’t the one that got away anymore. She was his. And the ring in his pocket meant one thing. He was hoping she stayed that way.

Masterlist

@justtuesdays

#litg #litg season 2 #litg gary x mc #litg gary #post villa #reunion #friends to lovers #s2litgexchange

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amndstuckinwonderland · 1 year

Text

Emerge From Water - 04

Chapter 4

Summary + Chapter list:

Waking up, Harry checked the time and decided that it was too early to go anywhere so he continued reading through the books and finally finished the files. Today he needed to go to Gringotts to speak to Ironclaw about Sirius Black.

The day went by easily and without issues, first Harry ate and strolled the Alley for a bit, going into shops while feeling giddy over hiding a snake in his newly bought shoulder bag. Turns out snakes are quite sassy, and had ended up naming her Lily. She rather liked it.

“Green One, we should go to the short people now so you can finalise your business and we can cuddle up and sleep.” Harry soon realised that his snake was rather lazy, but at least the commentary was interesting. Harry conceded to Lily’s point and went to Gringotts.

Waiting for his turn, Harry observed the bank, it was quite imposing. In a few minutes, it was Harry’s turn, “I’d like to speak with Craftblade and Ironclaw, please and thank you.” The Goblin looked Harry over, before yelling for another Goblin to escort Harry to Craftblade’s office and to call Ironclaw.

Harry was taken to the room filled with weapons hanging on the walls and an intimidating desk where Craftblade sat. “How can I help you today, Mr Potter?” Harry then went along and explained that he was here to visit the vaults under his name as well as to give the memories for Sirius’ case.

As he mentioned Sirius, Ironclaw arrived. “Mr Potter, sit down so I can begin the memory extraction.” The Goblin said, leaving no room to refuse. Harry nodded and sat down on the chair parallel to Craftblade. The extraction took a minute and Ironclaw left after securing the memories into Potion Vials.

Before Craftblade took Harry to visit the vaults, Harry asked, “The files mentioned a few of my heirlooms being missing, that weren’t in one of the family properties, how do I get them back?” At the question, the Goblin looked confused before he sneered, “Just recite, ‘I, Lord Potter and Heir Black recall all items owned by me to be returned’.”

Harry nodded, assuming it was like one of those warding enchantments and binds that were attached to all assets Harry owns per the file's details. And in a few seconds, a blank parchment paper and an ugly-coloured cloak appeared. Harry recognised both items, the parchment was a map his Dad made with the password of ‘I Solemnly Swear That I’m Up To No Good’. The cloak on the hand had the Potter Family Magic reacting quite strongly as Harry picked it up, once again lamenting that it would have been pretty if it was a solid colour like green.

Then suddenly, the cloak changed its colour to an emerald green. Gently wearing the cloak, Harry turned invisible, the cloak was the famed Cloak of Invisibility given to Ignotus Peverell by Death himself, or so the file claims it to be.

Harry delicately folded the Cloak and placed it into his bag, before following Craftblade into his vaults. The entire ordeal took over two hours and Harry was emotionally drained. He had visited a total of six vaults, five for the Potter Family and the last for the Black Heirship.

When Harry asked why there were multiple vaults, Craftblade had replied that there were his trust vaults, one for each family, then the main Potter vault, then one dedicated to portraits, one to cursed heirlooms and then the last was books and trinkets that the Ministry and ICW, International Confederation of Wixen, had banned over the years. Harry was looking forward to looking into that.

So Harry spent a good chunk of the day roaming through the vaults, truthfully, Harry had spent most of it stalling to avoid going into the portrait vault. “Did my parents’ have portraits commissioned?” Harry tried to keep the hopefulness to a minimum but couldn’t help it.

The Goblin stared at Harry for a second before replying, “No, unfortunately, due to the circumstances at the time and the fact that most Wixen do not have their portraits painted until they're in their late fifties.” Harry took the answer for what it was and tried not to feel too bitter at never meeting his parents, even if it was a shade of their true personality.

Harry walked out of the bank with multiple books and heirlooms the family kept as well as journals he found written by his parents with their friends, or so Harry assumed. That night, after Harry settled himself by rearranging his entire trunk much too many times, he went to sleep both excited and a cauldron worth of anticipation for the Will reading.

The next day Harry woke up in a mix of emotions, he was not only finding out about a GodFather but also given the option to stay with him, despite Harry being an adult in the eyes of Wixen Laws.

Harry got up and changed into formal robes he bought the day prior, he had only purchased a few to last him for a week. The robes were a gorgeous emerald green, underneath Harry wore simple black slacks and a button-up white shirt. Slipping on a pair of dragonhide boots, Harry shrunk his trunk and checked out of the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry was the first to arrive at Gringotts, granted he wanted to see exactly who would be participating. Second to arrive was a stern-looking woman who brought along three people, two of them in similar uniforms that he recognized as Official Auror Robes, but before Harry could even greet Lady, one of the men hoarsely spoke, “Harry?”

Harry’s eyes snapped to the man the Aurors’ escorted with cuffs on his wrist. “Sirius?” Harry abruptly stopped, “Merry meet Lady Bones, Aurors.” He greeted, lightly brushing a kiss to the Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement’s hand, “Gringotts has graciously provided a private room for us to wait in.”

With that being said, Harry followed an escort Goblin to a private room. Once settled, Harry politely had the Aurors move to the back after they introduced themselves as Aurors Shaklebolt and Graves. They had seated Sirius onto the couches and Harry, much to the concern of the others in the room, had swiftly sat down next to him.

Sirius looked groggy, except once he glanced at Harry, his eyes watered as if he was about to sob, hence Harry grabbed his hand and squeezed, “I know you’re innocent, just brave through this, and we can talk privately.” That calmed the man significantly. Harry had noticed that his GodFather was rather pale and malnourished, and he felt his heart constrict in sympathy.

Harry knew it was a smart idea to read the books on Azkaban, hence he silently and single handedly removed a box of chocolate as well as warm milk from his shoulder bag, but was careful not to wake Lily up from her sleep. Then he fed them to Sirius, who curled himself onto Harry, hoping it would bring any form of comfort.

The entire room was filled with quiet tension as Lady Longbottom arrived, both Harry and Lady Bones had gotten up to greet her. The two Ladies made idle small talk whilst Harry rejoined Sirius on the couch. Now, there was only Remus, Professor Snape and Dumbledore left to arrive, and ten minutes to start the Reading itself.

Just as Harry thought of the werewolf, Remus walked in, he immediately zeroed onto Harry and Sirius, but as per decorum and social rules, greeted everyone before sitting near Harry and Sirius, yet he did not speak, too shaken up to answer, it was only then Harry realised that it was two days after the full moon and Remus would still be recovering.

Sirius tried to reach out for Remus’ hand yet stopped himself, “Moony.” He rasped, that was all it took for Remus to reach out to hold Sirius’ slightly chocolatey hand. Before he could say anything, Bloodclaw walked into the room with Ironclaw trailing behind him.

Though, prior to the Goblins arriving Professor Snape walked into the room, and he silently went to greet everyone before sitting down in the furthest corner from Harry and Sirius.

Then came in the Goblins, ten minutes after them came in a horribly dressed wizard. When Harry heard Dumbledore’s fashion sense was bad, he thought of mismatched robes and dress shirts, not ugly bright yellow stars on deep purple. Harry had to calm himself, or else he would have set blaze those disgusting robes.

“Harry! My boy, you must get away from him!” Dumbledore said with a certain edge to his voice, but rather than Harry showing an outburst, he calmly replied, “Have we met before? Because I do not recall giving you permission to refer to me by my given name.” Such is life when you leave a child to be neglected by bitter relatives, those children end up holding grudges and anger which even Hell is afraid of.

Despite reeling internally, Harry caught Lady Bones’ eyebrows twitching in irritation, she looked rather displeased by the information. “Now Harry, I am your Magical Guardian, and I require respect-” Harry quickly cut him off, “I have never met you in my life, hence you have failed as a Guardian, second of all I am an emancipated Lord, you have no control whatsoever upon me.”

The temperature dropped in the room, due to Dumbledore’s late arrival, the rest of the people in the room had already witnessed Harry’s Lordship and Heir Rings. The Headmaster looked flustered, and rightfully so, he had never planned for the Will to be read, yet since it was happening, he needed to do damage control.

Thankfully, the Goblins didn’t allow for any unnecessary chatter as they squished Dumbledore’s attempts to talk to Harry. He was quite glad he had informed the Goblins of his desire of not wanting to speak with Albus Dumbledore until he reached Hogwarts.

Craftblade, once everyone had stopped speaking, opened a box filled with a shimmery sphere and placed it onto the desk in the middle of the room.

“I still do not think we should burden a child to hear their parents’ last words.” Dumbledore said in a gentle tone yet mentally he was seething, how dare the child speak against him. Surprisingly, before Harry could say anything, Lady Longbottom intervened. “We should hurry up, none of us have time for delayed matters that should have been resolved ages ago.”

Harry caught the stern Lady’s eyes and slightly inclined his head as a thanks and received a sharp nod in return. Then Craftblade tapped the sphere twice and a voice played out of it;

“I, Jameson Fleamont Potter, revoke all previous wills whilst under no effects of any spells, potions or runes, so mote it be.

I, Lily Rosaline Potter nee Evans, revoke all previous wills whilst under no effects of any spells, potions or runes, so mote it be.”

Harry swallowed a sob at hearing his parents' voices, unconsciously he curled towards Sirius who pulled him to his chest tightly.

“Hi, if this is playing that means I have died during the time I and my family were in hiding, Lilyflower if you’re there, please do not blame yourself for not saving me or for any reason I died. I leave everything to you until it is to be given to my son and Heir on the day he accepts the Heirship.

If both my Wife and I are to perish during the war, then I leave my greatest treasure to my dearest friend, Sirius Black-Lupin. Besides my son, I give Sirius the Potter Family Summer Home in Athens, where we spent our best days. And he is to be given the contents of vault 408.

To Remus Black-Lupin, I leave you the contents of vault 409, and I sincerely hope you do not reign Harry and Sirius away from pranks rather help plan them like you did with us during our Hogwarts time.

To Peter Pettigrew, if proven to not be disloyal and betray us as our Secret Keeper; then, I leave you the contents of vault 410.

To Neville Longbottom, my Godson, I leave you vault 411, in hopes that you’ll find the picture and stories of your Parents and I infinite amusement. Lily has also placed all kinds of trinkets and things for you.

To Severus Snape, I ask for forgiveness for the torment I caused during our school years as you did not deserve that treatment.”

The will continued through Lily’s version, except she left things for things for Mary Macdonald, Marlene Mckinnon and Alice Fortescue. She too, left a small note for Professor Snape, and to Harry’s surprise it looked like the Professor was about to cry.

“In order of Guardianship of our son, first he should go to Sirius Black-Lupin as his right of being both Harry’s GodFather as well as BloodAdopt Father. Then to Remus Black-Lupin, if either are not able to provide Guardianship, then Harry is to go to Alice and Frank Longbottom. Should they too be unable to care for Harry, then Harry should be raised by one of the Potter family’s house elves. Under no circumstances should be given to Petunia Dursley nee Evans.”

The air crackled with heavy Magic caused by Harry’s emotional turmoil, someone had sealed the will to make sure Harry would end up at the Dursley, and he had a very good guess on who exactly it was. Harry almost lost his temper if not for Remus suddenly hugging Harry and Sirius, which wasn’t a good idea as it caused both of them to flinch and jerk back.

Sirius in a panic pulled Harry closer and raised his hand in fright at hearing Harry whimper, but seeing as it was Remus both of them slowly relaxed into the embrace. The hug was cut short as Lady Longbottom quickly asked, “Why wasn’t the Will read before?” It was a question Harry had as well so he softly slipped out of the hug to turn to the Goblins. “I’ve been wondering so as well.”

Craftblade then answered with a bloodthirsty grin and Harry noticed how Dumbledore’s face lost all colour, “Due to pressure from the Ministry, Gringotts was strongly asked to not read the Will unless asked by the Heir.”

The admission caused disgruntled expressions to appear on most of the faces, but not to lack of care, Madam Bones quickly approached Harry, “Lord Potter, I would like you to come with me for a bit to clear up everything with Lord Black at the DMLE office.”

Yet, before Harry could reply, Dumbledore inserted himself into the conversation, “Well, Amelia, I must recommend myself to be present in the meeting.” As if Albus was going to leave his pawns out of his reach any longer. “HeadMaster Dumbledore,” Said Remus harshly, “My GodSon, Husband and I will be leaving with Madam Bones after collecting everything from Gringotts and where Harry is staying.”

Dumbledore lost his infuriating twinkling from his eyes, “Remus, my boy, you can not -” Albus didn’t have time to finish his sentence as Craftblade forcefully expelled him from the room. It shocked the occupants in the room, but they regained composure.

Then, Lady Longbottom spoke, “Lord Potter, Lord Black, I will be sending letters regarding the Healers in Europe, I hope they are useful.” She said sombrely, with a slightly haunted look in her eyes before bidding them goodbye.

Seeing as no uninvited guest remained and everything was collected, Harry mentally gave himself a pat on the back for bringing his truck and shoulder bag with him. Then, Madam Bones brought Harry and his possibly new family to the DMLE. They were escorted to Madam Bones’ office and were seated. The next hour passed by through paperwork and having the Minister call an emergency Wizengamot meeting for the next day.

#tomarry #WIP #tomarrymort #harry james potter #fanfiction #tomarry fanfic #greek myth fanfic #The Will Reading #Married Wolfstar #wolfstar #Jily #WIP CODE: EFW

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ambrossart · 2 years

Text

DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART FIVE

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. ❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader ❖ word count: 1,546 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

Nights were warm and the days were young, and you had fully surrendered yourself to the hypnotic power of David Bowie and his “Golden Years.”

(Come get up, my baby)

You lost yourself in the crowd as you swayed to the music and sang aloud. Eyes closed. Hands on your hips, on your face, in your hair, floating into the air. You were no longer on the dance floor. Now you were alone in your bedroom, a child again, dancing freely without a care. (Nothing's gonna touch you in these golden years) You had no sense of self. No sense of shape. You were a mighty waterfall flowing out into forever. You were a majestic bird extending your wings and soaring high into the sky, higher and higher, higher and

“Oof!”

falling hard on your ass.

(Come get up, my baby)

The crowd parted around you like an ebbing wave, making you feel strangely powerful. Eyes that never once noticed you were now staring down at you with concern. Hands reached out. So many hands. Football players. Cheerleaders. Preps. Nerds. Burnouts. The damn student council president, with his Buddy Holly glasses. He bent down next to you, said, “Whoa… you okay?” and you threw your hands over your mouth and started to laugh.

Then the crowd parted again, this time for Chrissy Cunningham. She came stumbling toward you in her teal dress, barely able to stand because she was giggling so much. “Oh my god…! Are you okay?”

You looked up at her and smiled a lopsided smile. “I’m a mess.”

Chrissy said, “No, you’re perfect… C’mon, honey.”

She took your hands and lifted you to your feet, then continued to dance with you, swinging your arms, singing under her breath: “Run for the shadows, run for the shadows… Run for the shadows in these golden years…”

You said, “We’re graduating soon.”

“I know.”

“I’m terrified!”

Chrissy laughed. “I know!”

And you threw your arms around Chrissy’s neck and hugged her tight, almost knocking her off balance.

Throughout your life, you had probably hugged Chrissy a thousand times. Hello hugs. Goodbye hugs. Happy hugs. Sad hugs. Hugs that made you fall to pieces and then put you back together again. And it dawned on you now, just now, that soon—much sooner than you’d like—you two would be sharing your last hug. You wouldn’t have her to lean on anymore. And that scared the shit out of you.

You mumbled into her shoulder, “You know I love you, right?”

Chrissy smiled. “I know.” Then she pulled away and pressed her hand to your forehead, as if checking for a fever. “You’re overheated.”

“Yeah… I think I’m gonna take a break, go get a drink.”

“Okay…” And as you turned to leave, Chrissy gave your backside a little swat and said, “Go ice your ass,” making you both break up into giggles again.

You walked off the dance floor feeling exhausted and elated, humming the rest of the song to yourself. Strings of yellow light glistened through the canopy like stars in a cloudy night sky. You stared at them for a minute, breathless, and thought, Yeah… this really is kinda perfect, isn’t it?

Then, somewhere, an indistinct sound broke your focus—a cough, a laugh, a tinkle of glass, you weren’t sure—but something dragged your eyes away from the dazzling lights and drew your attention to the darkened corner of the room, where Eddie Munson was standing awkwardly next to one of the vine-covered pillars, looking totally out of his element.

And now that you were looking at him, now that you saw him, no sound in the world could tear your eyes away.

It was like you were back in school, sitting in the cafeteria and pretending to listen to all the mindless table chatter happening around you. Really, you were just watching Eddie the whole time. Waiting for him to do something obnoxious and absurdly theatrical. That way, you would have an excuse to talk to him next period. Call him a jackass or something because you were too nervous to say anything else.

And day after day, insult after insult, you kept digging yourself into a deeper hole.

Now, six years later, you were desperately trying to climb out of it.

Because you were running out of time.

You sucked in a breath, shook the nerves out of your hands, then began your climb.

Okay… here we go… Pretty in Pink, Pretty in Pink, Pretty in Pink…

You crept up beside him, tried to play it cool. “Guess you found another sucker, huh?”

Eddie flinched at the sound of your voice, glanced at you, then looked away. “Oh… no… nobody would give up their ticket.”

(Climbing, climbing, getting dirt in your nails)

“Oh,” you said, “so how’d you get in?”

He shrugged. “I just, uhh, ran like hell.”

Your jaw dropped. “Really? Wow!” You pictured Eddie hurdling over the admission table and taking off down the hall like an Olympic sprinter. “And security didn’t tackle you? Well, suddenly I don’t feel very safe…” and you watched the lights dance across his distant face, a painful yearning growing inside you.

(Climbing… climbing… skidding, falling)

“So I guess you’re a wanted man now, huh?”

You don’t know why you said that. It wasn’t even funny.

Eddie said, “Yeah, I guess,” and the conversation died as soon as Bruce Springsteen started singing “Hungry Heart.”

Way down in your hole, you could barely hear the music, barely see Eddie. They were shoveling the dirt over you now. It showered over you like a heavy rain, getting in your mouth, in your hair, ruining your dress.

Still, you kept trying to climb. Like an idiot, you kept trying.

“Bet you’re mad they didn’t ask your band to play, huh?” You posed this question to Eddie with a huge grin and waited for him to react: to smirk, to scoff, to do anything, but he just kept staring at the dance floor. It was like he didn’t even hear you.

(And how could he? You had fallen so far…)

You gave his shoulder a light smack and said, “Please tell me you brought your guitar, Munson, because I would pay good money to see you hijack that stage and bust out some Sabbath right now, turn this dance floor into one giant mosh pit.” You laughed out loud, alone. “Come on, man, give the people what they want!”

“Why?” said Eddie, his brown eyes rolling toward you. “So you can make fun of me?”

And that stung. A lot.

You swallowed hard. There was a click in your throat. “Uh… no… I just…”

You closed your mouth, and his eyes rolled away again. This time, you followed them, chased them like a dog chases a tennis ball. What you saw stole all the strength from your arms and legs, and you felt yourself slipping, sinking all the way to the bottom.

He was looking at Chrissy. Of course, he was looking at Chrissy. Everybody was always looking at Chrissy. She was the Sun, and the entire Solar System revolved around her, while you…

“I’m invisible to you, aren’t I?”

The words came out in a broken whisper, barely audible over the music, but somehow Eddie heard them.

“What?”

He was looking at you now, actually looking at you. Normally, this simple act would make your heart flutter or skip a beat, but right now it didn’t make you feel anything.

“You don’t even know my name,” you said in a stuffy voice. “How do you not know my name?”

Eddie threw his head back and sighed, like talking to you was so tiring. “Look, I know your name, okay?”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“What?”

“What’s my name? You know it. What is it?”

“Oh, come on—”

“What is my name? Not ‘Chrissy’s friend.’ Not ‘the one who rolls her eyes all the time.’ What’s my name, Eddie? You know it. Say it. What’s my name?”

“Look, I—”

“WHAT’S MY NAME?”

That’s when Eddie burst out: “OH MY GOD, WHY DOES IT MATTER?” And you staggered back a little, as if slapped. “We’re not friends. We don’t even talk to each other. So why does it matter if I know your name or not? Huh? Why do you even care?”

You just stood there, blinking back tears. Eddie saw one slip down your cheek, and his angry expression broke into one of utter sorrow.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry… I’m really not trying to be an asshole, I just… Look, this isn’t why I came here, okay? This isn’t how I wanna spend my night, and I don’t think it’s how you wanna spend yours, either. So can we just take a time out? Please? Just for one night? On Monday, you can go right back to mocking me like you usually do. You can totally rip me apart, okay? Seriously, just eviscerate me. I just… I can’t deal with this tonight.”

Then Eddie pulled—no, ripped himself away from you and walked off, leaving you alone with your hungry heart.

Get a tombstone. You were done, dead, buried alive in the hole you created. And that, that right there, was your eulogy.

_____________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

#eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #chrissy cunningham #jason carver #chrissy x jason #eddie x chrissy #stranger things 4 #st4 #ambrossart #dancing with myself #dwm #fanfiction

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids.

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint?

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower.

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes.

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer.

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest.

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

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outerbankies · 3 years

Note

the north carolina humidity affecting how you and rafe sleep, because even when he’s just in boxers he’s a heater so you kick him off you end he gets dooo butthurt

rip i wrote this in like 20 minutes

—

new light blurb: heat above — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

no warnings, takes place over summer somewhere in part 6 actually

“Rafe, I know you’re like six feet—”

“And three inches, thank you.”

“Okay, alpha male,” you groan, pushing him off of you even more. “I wasn’t finished.”

“Then finish,” he says, insistent hands tugging at your bare waist again, already pulling you back toward him.

“The amount of body heat you produce is, like, concerning. You’re not sick, are you?” you say, pushing his slightly damp hair off of his forehead to feel.

“No,” he bats your hand away. “You know I run warm. And you don’t exactly complain about it when you’re cold.”

“I’m not cold right now, shove off,” you whine, breaking free from him again, pushing yourself as far to your side of the bed as you can. “I can’t imagine ever being cold again, it’s so hot right now.”

Rafe’s unaffected, already rolling toward you. But you bend a knee in warning, keeping him as far away as possible. He wraps his fingers around your ankle, tugging you closer. “Oh, c’mon. It’s not even that hot.”

You back away, scrambling for purchase on your fitted sheet—all the others had been kicked to the floor for the night. “Maybe to you! You big fuckin’, like, I can’t even—”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I’m hot,” you whine, fully curling yourself into a ball when he reaches out for you again. “Rafe, m’serious. I’ll kick you to the floor with the dog.”

“No you won’t,” he smiles teasingly. “Because you can’t sleep without me.”

“Well—”

“I’m sorry, was it not you in my phone thirty minutes ago with that one emoji, telling me to come spend the night? ‘Rafe, please? I miss you,’” he mocks, doing his best to impersonate the starry-eyed pout emoji that you always used on him. Because it always worked—maybe a little too well.

“I forgot you’re a furnace. And you don’t have to be mean. And you didn’t even have to come—”

“I always come when you ask. You know I’m a done deal. It’s on you at that point.”

You feel yourself smile a little, reaching over to stroke a thumb over the skin under his eye, checking his chin with your knuckle as you retract your hand. Your sweet boyfriend—your ‘done deal’ hopping in his truck at whatever time of night to come fall asleep with you, without fail. Even if it’s a week night, even if your parents are home, even if he has to sneak out before you wake up the next morning. “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“You already made me strip. What else am I gonna do, sweetheart?” he asks, already reaching for you again.

“Stay on your side of the bed,” you say, now extending a leg, your foot square in the middle of his chest to keep him and his body heat away from you. “I’m serious.”

“We don’t even have sides.”

“No, you’re right. I just wake up pushed against the wall while you get the entire bed.”

“You invited me over and you’re not even gonna let me cuddle you? What’s the point of that?” he says, letting you shove a pillow in between the two of you all the same, finally resigning himself to a night on his side of the bed. He holds his hand out for your phone, plugging it into your charger for you and flicking off your fairy lights.

You furrow your eyebrows, lips turning downward.

“I dunno,” you murmur, thinking about it. But even if you weren’t pressed up against him, you could already feel yourself relaxing as soon as Rafe stepped through the window today. It was probably the same reason you’d always take him up on tagging along for errands, or the same reason you liked having him sit in the bathroom with you when you got ready. Even if you two didn’t talk that much, you just liked having Rafe there. “It’s still nice to just… lay with you.”

Your boyfriend groans in frustration, kicking one of his legs out so it hangs over your bed. “How are you gonna say shit like that to me when I’m not even allowed to touch you, sweetheart?”

You giggle, leaning up to look over the pillow separating you. You stick out your hand, letting Rafe grab onto it when he rolls onto his side to face you. “Sorry. It’s true. You’ve gotten me way too used to your presence, RC.”

“Ditto, Y/l/n,” he sighs, the both of you dancing around the fact that this would be one of your last nights to lay together like this, at least for a little while. He squeezes your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “I—ah.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just gonna miss this, s’all,” he sighs, looking like he bit back some words. You have a suspicion what they were—had felt them almost leave your mouth a few times, too, recently. But those three words were for another time.

“Gonna miss it, too.”

—

(You wake up in the middle of the night, tank top stuck to your skin with a thin layer of sweat, the pillow that was between you nowhere to be found, and six feet and three inches worth of Rafe Cameron pressed up against you, soft snores heard from above where your head rests on his bare chest.)

#idk what this is lmfao #is it just me or am i always writing about them sleeping #new light hcs #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #obx imagine #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fanfic

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tacticaldiary · 3 years

Note

Heyyy I saw your six of crows are open and I was wondering if I could please have a kaz breaker x reader where she is a student at the university, and he has to come undercover as a student and then this popular girl who’s an ass to reader starts flirting with him and reader is very amused and jealous at the same tim? you can end it however you want to thank you so so much<3

Undercover

Pairing: Reader x Kaz Brekker

Genre: Fluff

She may not be part of the rough housing side of things, but she still knows Kaz, is one of his invaluable investments.

Masterlist

It was strange for someone outside the barrel to know Kaz Brekker this well, but it was a beneficial relationship.

She provided him with inside information from the upper class areas of the city, while he ensured her protection in the more sketchy areas.

Just as the professor walks into the room, she sees someone slip into the room, just in time. Hiding a small smile, she watches as Kaz silently takes a seat on the bench next to her. She can see him out of the corner of the eye, the girl sitting next to him blinking in surprise. Y/N knows her, well...practically everyone here knows her. She’s the daughter of a rich Merch, her spot in this advanced course undoubtedly bribed for. The both of them don’t exactly get along.

His arrival didn't disrupt anything. Exactly as planned.

He’d contacted her personally a few days ago about a job. He needed her to overlook his undercover infiltration and make sure everything ran smoothly. Kaz told her he has no doubt that his plan would work, but she was to act as a fail safe.

The target was the professor.

As the lecture starts, she takes her own notes because, unfortunately, this was still a class she needed to pay attention to, to pass.

Instead of jotting down notes how she usually would, however, she finds her attention pulled away. It’s hard to focus when she can pretty much feel the girl in the table next to her get his attention.

It starts with little things, she can’t help but glance over and notice. Her leaning towards him to pick up a pen she ‘accidentally’ dropped. Her brushing his arm when reaching to grab her charger.

She finds it a little amusing how Kaz absolutely does not indulge her. Blank face, eyes straight forward locked onto the professor and...and occasionally glancing over to her.

It’s a bored stare, not lasting more than a few seconds, but whenever he catches her eyes she feels a jolt of...something. She swallows and shakes off the feeling, knowing that he’s probably just checking to see if she’s paying attention, assuring himself that she’s on top of her game.

Halfway through the three hour lecture, the professor stops for a brief 15 minute break as usual. As she shuts her notebook, the room fills up with a low buzz of chatter, one voice predominantly grates her ears.

The girl sitting next to Kaz talks in a shrill, giggly voice, and if she wants to wince from it, she can’t imagine how Kaz feels about it. She will admit, the way she leans forward and bats her eyes at Kaz makes her feel a little restless, and when Kaz finally graces her with a glance, her smile grows.

She probably thinks she’s getting somewhere, and Y/N would laugh if she weren’t feeling so...weird. The distant click of a door drags her gaze away from the two of them and to the main door of the room, where the professor has just stepped out.

That was the cue.

She stands into the aisle and clears her throat, approaching the table. “Kaz...could I have a word?” She points to the exit. Her job was also to give them both an excuse to leave at halftime.

The way he turns to acknowledge her has her heart leaping up to her throat. His gaze in intense and...and a little irritated. She can imagine why.

“He doesn’t want to go with you.” The girl chimes in suddenly. “We were having a conversation, so if you could just piss off-”

“I don’t recall asking you to speak in my stead.” His voice is even but low and it stuns the girl. She blinks slowly, before another smile takes her face.

“Of course not, but really I’m saving you the trouble of being in the presence of someone so...” She wrinkles her nose at Y/N. “unrefined.”

Y/N winces at the word, and for some reason, every witty comeback seems to leave her with the way Kaz is there. The way his eyes flicker to her, as if curious to how she’ll respond, makes it much more harder than usual.

“See?! She’s such a pushover, just stands there an takes it.” The girl mocks. If Y/N had been looking up, she’d have noticed the ever so slight way Kaz’s grip on his cane tightens. “You really shouldn’t bother, especially since you’re new. She might lead you down the wrong-”

The thunk of his cane as he stands startles both girls.

“You’re more insufferable than anyone I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.” He states dryly, fixing the girl with a cold stare. “We already have plans that I don’t need you interrupting.” He steps out into the aisle.

“Rein yourself in before I do it for you.”

With those parting words, he starts walking down to the door, expecting Y/N to follow him. The shellshocked look on the girls face as Y/N follows behind would have caused her to snicker if this were any usual circumstance.

When they finally exit, Y/N feels herself actually breathe. “That was...I don’t usually freeze like that.” She tells him. Kaz doesn’t reply for a second.

“I’ll take your word for it.” He seems to want to say something else, because he opens and closes his mouth, looking at her like he’s trying to figure something out. She shuffles under his eyes until he finally turns away.

The walk side by side, Y/N filling in the silence by telling him about the professor, telling him about nearby buildings and architecture. Surprisingly, he listens.

He listens and doesn’t seem annoyed, not like he was back there listening to that shrill chatter. It lifts her mood a little when he asks her a question. When they approach the nearest toilet block, Y/N stops suddenly, Kaz’s arm knocking against hers.

He doesn’t tense as harshly as he did with that girl back there.

She shakes off that thought that nearly distracts her from pointing out their target, and tries to focus on their mission.

She doesn’t know what his lingering gazes meant, the intense way he looks at her, the way he listens and gives input.

She does know however, that her hope may not be as false as she thought.

Requests Are Open!

(2/03/2022)

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

Obedient (Rewritten)

Soft! Yandere! Erasermic x Chubby! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

You must be 18 years old or older to participate in this reading. If you are not, please remove yourself from the line and find another piece. Thank you.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied drugging, kidnapping, reader is way too fucking calm with the situation, Stockholm Syndrome, BDSM themes, a collar, body worship, the word Daddy once, smut, double penetration (diff. holes), anal, unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

Word Count: 6.6 k

Author's Note: Alright. I've been wanting to rewrite this for a while now. Obedient was the very first fic I'd ever written and posted back in September, and my writing has changed A LOT since then. Reading the original, I realized there's a lot that I can change and tweak, and a lot that wasn't very clearly or well written (in my opinion). So, here it is!

You can find the original here.

Enjoy~

“Happy birthday to me.” The words tumble loosely from your lips on a heaved breath, your fingers curled lazily around a cold glass of whiskey.

It isn’t a rare occurrence to see you perched atop a stool at the edge of the bar, nursing your third glass at 2am on a Friday night. Or rather Saturday morning. It’s one of the only places you can find solace, away from nosy coworkers and nosier acquaintances. The loneliness is soberingly blissful. You never cared much for social interaction.

At this point the bar is emptying, only a handful of bodies sticking around in the early hours. In the reflections of the rows of glass liquor bottles you see them again. Two lanky figures sitting in the corner booth at the back of the establishment. Any normal person would see them and think nothing. But you know better. When you first walked into the bar six months ago they were in that exact spot, and every time afterward they’d be there when you walked in and stayed after you left.

You, being observant as you are, always watched everything from your spot at the bar, the slightly warped images in the glass serving as your eyes for the night. It didn’t take long for you to figure the two were watching you every time you stepped inside. The blonde one always sat with his back to you, and his head would occasionally turn in the reflection. You’d alternate seats to make sure you weren’t imagining things, but it only confirmed what you’d suspected.

Not that you cared enough to do anything about it.

As long as they keep their distance you’re perfectly content letting them look. And they did keep their distance. They’d never even come within 5 feet of you, seemingly happy with just lingering glances. Of course, tonight would be a different story.

You watch as their glassy reflections stand up, the distance between you and them shrinking with each of their long strides. You let your eyes fall to the amber liquid in your hands, praying they’d only pass you by on their way out. Two sets of footsteps approached, two bodies popped up on either side of you, and a deep, silky smooth voice sounded on your right.

“Mind if we take a seat?” A glance to your right revealed a rugged, yet handsome man peering down at you with his deep, tired onyx eyes. Long raven hair spilled over his shoulders, framing his chiseled jaw peppered with barely tamed scruff and a scar curved along his cheekbone. You turn to look at his friend, long blonde hair pulled up into a high bun and hypnotic green eyes focused on you behind orange tinted sunglasses despite being indoors past midnight. He is handsome as well, a small mustache on his smiling lips, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline drawing you in.

You couldn’t help but feel they look familiar, somehow. You’d seen their faces before, somewhere, but you pushed that to the back of your mind for now.

It wouldn’t hurt to let them sit with you, right? They seem friendly enough, and it’s better to entertain them in case things go south should you reject their request. With a small, tired smile, you nod.

“Sure thing, fellas.” They both plop down on either side of you and the blonde immediately gets talking.

“So what’s the occasion, little listener?” Two thoughts came to mind. One, how did he know there was any occasion, two, what kind of pet name is ‘little listener’? Your confusion must have shown on your face, because the raven haired man spoke up.

“You’re pretty dolled up for a night at the bar, kitten.” Ah. So they had been watching you. You aren’t wearing anything that would normally be considered ‘dolled up’. Your tan sweater and black skirt are relatively plain, and the platform boots you’re wearing accompanied by your thigh-high socks are something you’re experimenting with.

But usually you entered the bar with a white button-up and black slacks from your job as a waitress. Today you had time to go home and pamper yourself a bit before heading to your usual drinking spot. Evidently, they noticed. You bring your glass up to your lips and gulp down the remaining liquid before entertaining the question.

“Nothing special. Call it a birthday party.” And hey, you mean it when you say it isn’t special. Your birthday only marks yet another routine year on this earth. The blonde nudges your shoulder with his own.

“I’d say that’s pretty special, sunshine!” The alcohol must be affecting you, because you chuckle a bit at his enthusiasm.

“Just another year gone by, you know?” You’re never this talkative sober. The man on your right rapped his knuckles on the bartop, the barkeep making his way over with a tired smile.

“One more glass for this pretty kitty here.” The name had your eyebrows raising.

“This one’s on me.” As the fresh glass was sat on the bartop you scoffed quietly.

“Kitty?” A deep hum came from the man.

“Well how would you describe yourself, kitten?” Somewhere in your muddled brain you warned yourself not to be self-deprecating on your 25th birthday. You didn’t listen.

“Definitely not feline. I’m short and chunky and the only thing cat-like about me is my posture and eyeliner,” you stated, matter-of-factly. As a waitress at an esteemed high-end restaurant, you had to learn to be quick on your feet, agile, and most importantly, poised. A hum comes from the blonde, a muttered ‘pretty and humble’ floating on his breath. You force a chuckle at the statement.

“Pretty is also a word I wouldn’t use to describe myself.” A short silence falls between the three of you, and you take the time to study their faces. Where had you seen them before? You’re certain if you’d met them before you’d remember them, you don’t tend to forget attractive people.

They’re oddly patient as they watch the cogs in your brain turn, your eyes taking in every detail of every feature. Your breath caught and your eyes went wide when you’d finally placed their faces.

“Present Mic and Eraserhead. You’re pro heroes.” The words are quiet, nearly imperceptible as you breathe them, but they’re close enough to hear. Present Mic beams at the recognition.

“In the flesh, sunshine. But we’d prefer you use our names.” Eraserhead leans away and sticks a hand out for a handshake.

“Shouta Aizawa.” You shake his hand and turn to the blonde, who similarly has his hand held out.

“Hizashi Yamada.” You introduce yourself, a bit shaky and only slightly starstruck. What in the world are two pro heroes doing talking to you? As you regain your composure you excuse yourself to the restroom. You weren’t prepared to talk to heroes tonight. A glance in the mirror has you sobering yourself, rationalizing their strange behavior. These two are pro heroes. They were clearly only worried about your safety, a woman all alone in a bar till the earliest hours of the morning. ‘That’s why they were watching me’, you muse. You quickly fix yourself, then step back out to the two heroes.

The three of you pass another hour of time before you decide it’s time for you to head home. They offer to give you a lift, but you politely decline. You can't intrude on them any more than you already had. Hizashi insists otherwise.

“Please Sunshine? If something were to happen to you we’d never forgive ourselves!” It made sense to you. They’re pro heroes after all, it’s in their nature to worry. So you oblige to ease their anxieties.

Since Shouta hadn’t touched any alcohol, he’s driving, and you punch your address into the GPS system of their very expensive looking car. As you sit back, Hizashi holds a bottle over his head.

“Water?” You thank him and drain the bottle, realizing you’re a bit more dehydrated than you initially thought. In your semi-drunk haze you fail to notice that the bottle had already been opened, and you miss Shouta’s eyes watching you down the beverage through the rearview mirror.

It’s only five minutes later you feel drowsy, your head lolling to the side and eyelids drooping. You don’t quite register the question Hizashi asks you, and when you don’t answer he turns around to look at you.

“You seem tired, Sunshine. Take a nap, we’ll wake you up when we get there.” Your exhaustion takes hold over any rational thoughts, and with a sleepy nod, you stretch out over the backseat and let your mind slip into unconsciousness, blissfully unaware you’ll never see your apartment again.

The first thing you notice as you wake up is how stiff and sore your muscles are. It takes you a moment to realize you aren’t in your clothes from last night, nor are you in your own bed. Your eyes snap open and you sit up, taking in the unfamiliar room. With a curse under your breath you scour your memory for anything, checking if you’d gone home with anyone or gotten yourself in a tight situation. The last thing you remember is being driven home by the two pros, then passing out in their backseat.

Questions began forming in your mind. ‘Where am I? How did I get here? Where had the two heroes gone?’ In an attempt to think clearer, you try crossing your legs, but your ankle is stopped short by something heavy. Throwing off the blanket, a thick metal cuff glinted in the light of the room, an equally thick chain leading somewhere over the side of the bed.

When your breathing begins to quicken, you settle your mind, refusing to panic. Willing yourself to relax, you begin to think about how you can get out of this situation. ‘Today should be Saturday. Assuming this room is part of a house, someone would most likely still be here’. With a small breath, you speak, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear you.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” It only takes a few seconds for footsteps to reach your ears, and the door opens to the last person you’re expecting to see. A ruggedly handsome Shouta Aizawa stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with a small smirk on his lips.

“Good morning, Kitty.” As endearing as the pet name is, the only emotion you feel right now is confusion. Your mind is drifting to all the fanfiction you’d read online, piecing together the events of last night like a puzzle. ‘The bottle of water was already open’. In your defense, they’re pro heroes, it’s only natural for you-- or anyone, really-- to let your guard down. A large hand on your shoulder jolts you back to reality, your eyes wide as you stare up at Shouta like a deer in headlights.

“You okay Kitten?” All you can manage as you settle your thoughts is to blink up at the man, swallowing down the lump in your throat before letting out a shaky breath.

“Let me guess. I’m home now, aren’t I?” The man stares back down at you with subtly raised eyebrows before chuckling softly.

“That’s not the reaction I was expecting, but I can’t say I’m mad about it. You’re a smart little kitty, aren’t you.” He leaves you to your thoughts and your mind begins reeling once again. You understand this is wrong, that you shouldn’t be so willing, so obedient. You also know how boring your life has been up until now. How mundane and lonely you’d been for as long as you can remember.

You’d cut ties with your family long ago, and ‘friend’ is a very loose term. Most of the people you called friends are acquaintances at best, your antisociality and trust issues meant ‘making friends’ is not on your life agenda. Somehow you knew, deep down, you wanted something like this to happen. You longed to give up control, to let someone else string you along and take the reins and let you relax, not have to worry about anything anymore. That side of you tended to make itself known through your explorative late teen years.

You’d had romantic partners before, though once anything intimate came up they all refused to associate with you anymore. They couldn’t understand your want to give up control, your need to submit. They refused to collar you ‘like an animal’. None of your partners ever understood the weight behind such a garment. This may be your chance at the relationship you’d always craved, regardless of its twisted nature.

Then there’s the logical side, the chances of you actually escaping. As a quirkless human in the presence of two trained pro heroes (assuming Hizashi is also in on this), the likelihood of you making it out is slim to nonexistent. If you somehow manage to get out, the two could easily track you down and just as easily drag you back. So, as wrong as it seems, you don’t fight it.

Shouta returns with a tray of breakfast, setting it down on your lap after you’d adjusted yourself to lean against the headboard. As he pulls back you mumble a ‘thank you’ and begin to eat, acknowledging the pang of hunger in your belly. As weird as it seems to say ‘thank you’ to your captor, you find it could be helpful even if only a little. Being polite is automatic, but it’s also a great way to make sure you don’t end up injured, or worse, dead somewhere, so for once in a long time your manners are intended. You’d gotten halfway through your meal when Shouta speaks up.

“You’re taking this really well.” He almost seems skeptical. You peer up at him as you finish the food in your mouth.

“There isn’t much use panicking. I’d only end up hurting myself. Besides, it’s not like I can get out.” You motion to the cuff around your ankle and he gives a small chuckle.

“You’re not wrong, kitten.” He leaves to let you finish breakfast, returning ten minutes later and taking your empty tray. He comes back right after, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold in hand.

“I’m sure you need to use the bathroom.” You give a small nod, acknowledging the pressure in your bladder for the first time since you woke up. Gently, he takes your wrists and locks the cuffs around them, then holds up the blindfold before going to tie it around your head.

“These are just a precaution.” Soon you feel the cuff on your ankle fall away, and Shouta’s strong arms loop under your knees and back as he lifts you off the bed.You’re both surprised and not that he can lift you with relative ease. He is a pro hero after all. It takes less than 30 seconds for him to stop and gently place you down, taking the blindfold and cuffs off.

“I’ll be waiting just outside the door. Once you’re done, knock and I’ll take you back to bed.” You nod and he leaves, locking the door once he’s outside. Of course it locks from the outside. You take a moment to just think about your current predicament. Currently you’re locked in the house of a pro hero, being kept against your will (sort of). Your life had just taken an unexpected turn.

You knock on the door like Shouta said, and it isn’t long before you’re back on the bed with the cuff around your ankle. As he turns to leave you stop him, and he turns back to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“Can I...draw?” You didn’t know if he’d actually let you have anything, but it was worth a shot. If you were to be cooped up here you need to keep yourself occupied. With a low hum, he leaves the room and comes back with a sketch pad, pencil, and eraser.

Days come and go with either of the pros serving you three meals a day. They begin questioning your obedience, especially Hizashi. He questioned your lack of panic and how you never seemed to try to escape. Even he knows this isn’t normal. Shouta seems less skeptical, like he’d expected less of a fight than any normal, sane person would give. When Hizashi asked questions you answered truthfully. Lying is of no use to you.

“Really, I don’t mind it here. So far my life has been pretty shitty and boring, so this turn of events is mildly appreciated. Besides, you treat me relatively well, considering I’m being held captive, so I can’t say I’m upset.” You’d guessed from both your reading and their actions that they truly believed they cared about you. The chances of them hurting you are slim, so you’re able to live with them without fear.

The cuff around your ankle came off about a week in, and Shouta gave you the freedom to roam the house, though it wasn’t without warning. He held his hand out to you, an offer to help you stand, and you took it. Slowly, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and shift your weight to your feet. Your legs shake like a newborn fawn, but Shouta held you to let you stretch your legs and get comfortable walking again.

He led you out to what you assume is the dining table and sat you down, Shouta taking the seat on your right. You assume Hizashi is in the kitchen, what with the clatter and smell of food. Shouta asked what you’d been drawing, which caught you a bit off guard, but you answered anyway.

“Koi fish.” He hummed, focused on you.

“Any particular reason why?” You take a moment to think about your answer, it’s not a question you’re used to responding to.

“Well they’re gorgeous creatures. Elegant, sleek and graceful. The way they move is so mesmerizing, smooth and flawless like a flowing creek. I’ve always loved drawing koi.”

The conversation lapses into your fascination with the fish, how they somehow remind you of dragons and how the fantastical creature’s existence isn’t as far-fetched as it’s made out to be. Hizashi joins soon enough, serving dinner and listening in on the conversation.

Once you all finish eating you get comfortable on the couch, nestled between the two men. It isn’t long before you drift off to sleep, their body heat lulling you into dreamland. Shouta carries you to bed, carefully laying you down and pressing a light kiss to your temple. He stands above you, admiring your features as you sleep.

You’re gorgeous to him, a goddess in your own right. He and his blonde counterpart had started watching you mainly because you were a woman, completely alone and seemingly unarmed in a bar until the earliest hours of the morning. Neither of them could tell if you were quirkless or not, and as heroes they made sure to keep an eye on you during their weekly trip to the bar should you get into any trouble.

But eventually it became a habit to look for you, and the more they looked the farther they fell. You looked as exhausted as Shouta every time you stepped through the doors, hair just beginning to lose its style and shoulders sagged. But you were so beautiful, even in your exhausted state. Hizashi was the first to mention his infatuation to Shouta, but the raven-haired man had already figured the blonde was into you.

Soon enough they began to get antsy, constantly watching you walk out the door into the dead of night all alone. You’re just too trusting of the world outside, not taking enough precautions for a woman of your caliber. They made it their mission to make sure you were safe, and one day, take you back home where they could protect you.

Now that you’re here, it’s like a dream. Even as you sleep you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. How your lashes flutter against your cheeks, the way your lips softly part with every breath, how your chest gently rises and falls, it all makes him stare down at you in complete awe. It takes a great deal of willpower for him to tear his eyes away from you and join Hizashi in their room.

***3 months later***

A couple months have passed since you’d...moved in with the two men, and you can’t say you hate it. They’ve respected your privacy, allowing you to stay in your own room and letting you bathe yourself after refusing their attempts at persuading you to join them. Honestly it’s been nice living with them.

Though, the longer you’re with them the more thoughts begin gathering and swirling in your head. Caring thoughts, how their days progress, how they’re feeling at any point in time. And needy, dirty thoughts. Any time those pop up you make it a point to push them deep down into the farthest recesses of your brain, refusing to fuel those pesky embers.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know what’s happening, what’s been happening. You’re no stranger to Stockholm Syndrome, having done your own minimal research on the subject a few years back. You constantly tell yourself this isn’t normal, nor is it healthy, to enjoy the company of your captors. You have to remind yourself that they had taken you from everything you knew, and even though there wasn’t much for you to love, they’d taken you from that as well.

But soon enough the illogical prevailed, because despite all of that, the two have been nothing but good to you.

In no time at all the days you spend alone in the large house are the days you find yourself missing their company, hoping they’d return sooner. You managed to dig through their clothes and pick out some of their older t-shirts, and began wearing them around the house. Their lingering scents have been a comfort as you patiently wait for them to come back. They don’t seem to mind at all, so you’re content.

As time passes you get closer with them, gravitating toward them and snuggling into either of their sides, letting them wrap an arm around you and tug you into them. You began giving kisses when they left and returned, a small peck on the cheek at the door. The first time you had engaged a kiss was a shock to both of them.

You had tugged Shouta’s sleeve and when he turned you silently grabbed his collar and yanked him down, leaving a small peck on his cheek, doing the same with Hizashi. They barely had the time to react before you dashed to your room and curled under the blankets, face heated and heart pounding like some schoolgirl who had confessed to her crush and got a positive response. That night you’d received more cuddles and kisses than normal.

The kisses became routine, and before long you all slept in the same bed. Strangely enough, life began to feel somewhat normal. The house began to feel like home.

And soon enough that schoolgirl crush manifested into something dirty, something lustful and carnal. Just as much as you long to be around them, you want desperately to feel their hands on your bare skin, mapping out the curves of your body as you writhe beneath them. You crave them and their touch. But of course you still have your pride. Dropping hints would have to suffice.

Slowly, subtly, you dress lighter, more scantily. No shorts under their t-shirts that barely cover your ass, allowing the stretched collars to drop and expose the slightest peek of skin. After a shower you walk back to the room in nothing but a towel, allowing the edge to ride up your thighs. Your tactics seemed to work, their eyes glued to the newly exposed skin, soaking in your plush thighs and soft skin. Their stares make you ache, but after weeks of nothing but lingering glances you decide to toss your pride out the window.

You have dinner ready when they walk in the door, and after everyone had eaten and showered you usher them both to the couch while you sit facing them from the coffee table. Their confusion is evident on their faces, your nervous fidgeting and reluctance to look them in the eyes didn’t help. What you’re about to bring up is embarrassing to say the least, but staying silent would be a detriment to your sanity. With a steadying breath, you meet their gaze and quietly force out your seemingly ridiculous request.

“So… I enjoy being here with you,” your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt and you swallow down the lump in your throat, “and I really appreciate that you’ve given me anything I asked for-”

“No.” Shouta’s voice suddenly cuts off your sentence.

“You can’t go outside, Kitten. I’m sorry, but that’s non-negotiable right now.” You blink dumbly at him, completely thrown off balance by his statement before you catch yourself, waving your hands frantically in front of you.

“No! Oh god, that’s not…um…. I wasn’t asking to go outside. I love being here, with you, and doing whatever but...it’s what we don’t do...that’s bothering me...just a little bit…” By now your voice is so quiet and high-pitched you wonder if they can even hear you. Hizashi, bless his heart, is just as confused as before the conversation started.

“Sunshine, you aren’t making much sense. If you think about it, there’s actually a lot we don’t do.” Shouta holds a hand up, silencing the blonde. His dark eyes drag over your body, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly rub together and you can’t meet his gaze. You squirm, the intensity in his eyes something you aren’t used to but it makes you hot all over. His hand comes down on his thigh twice.

“Come here, Kitty.” Slowly, you stand and walk to him, letting his hands grab your hips and pull you down to straddle his lap. A finger curls under your chin, angling your head to look Shouta in the eyes. A small smirk pulls the corner of his mouth, a moment of realization flashing across his face.

“Our little Kitty is getting needy ‘Zashi. Isn’t that right, Kitten?” Heat flooded your face, your embarrassment and arousal sending hot blood to your face and chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, hoping they’d do something about the very horny state you’re in. Shouta’s hand moves to your hip again, lifting you and placing you in Hizashi’s lap before standing and walking away.

The blonde cooed at the surprised squeak you let out at the sudden movement, and you open your eyes to his wide grin. Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. It feels nice, and you let your body melt into him and his warmth, his long fingers digging into the flesh of your lower back as he tugs you closer and a pleasant haze settles over your mind.

It’s a blissful moment shared between you, and Shouta returns just as Hizashi pulls away from the kiss. They share a look you can’t place before the former raises a hand to gently stroke your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He seems conflicted, trying to mull over some sort of decision in his brain, his brows just barely drawn and jaw set. When his eyes dropped to his other hand, yours followed, to find he held a long thin black velvet box. Clearly it holds some sort of jewelry.

After a few moments he turns it to you and lifts the lid, and your heart damn near stops beating. Whether it’s from excitement or a brief flash of fear, you don’t know. These two have been watching you for much longer than just at the bar. Those few months are only the tip of the iceberg, but how they’d come to notice you would probably forever remain a mystery to you.

Right now, all that matters is that they know everything. From your failed relationships to the reason they’d all ended. They had to know, that’s the only explanation. There’s no possible way it’s pure coincidence that you now gaze down at a beautifully crafted leather collar. It’s simple, thin, black dotted sparsely with sparkling gems and a dainty metal ring centered at the front. Tentatively, you reach out and trace the leather with your fingers.

“Is this...for me?” A deep hum sounds in Shouta’s chest, and that’s answer enough for you. Shouta plucks the garment from its seat and moves behind you. The cool leather feels heavenly as he loops it around your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. Everything seemed to go quiet as you waited for something, anything, to solidify this moment.

Click.

You shudder out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Shouta tilts your head and presses his lips to yours, looping a finger through the collar and giving a gentle tug. It makes you mewl, allowing him space to slip his tongue behind your teeth. He can see your pupils dilate when he pulls away, plush lips slick with saliva, lust invading your mind. You look so needy and desperate for them, so fucking gorgeous.

Hizashi leaves a kiss on your cheek then picks you up and places you on your feet. Both men grab either of your hands, lacing their fingers with yours, and gently pull you with them to the bedroom. Hizashi begins undressing first, and you can only let your eyes drag over his bare upper body for a moment before Shouta grabs your chin and distracts you with another kiss. This one is more passionate, heated, rough as his tongue effortlessly invades and dominates your mouth. Hizashi’s voice permeates your lust-filled haze.

“Come here, baby.” Shouta pulls away and allows you to walk over to where the blonde sits naked on the edge of the bed. He motions for you to turn around and you oblige, then he grabs your hips and pulls you back to sit in his lap, your back pressed to his chest. You watch as Shouta undresses, baring his skin to you as Hizashi tasks himself with undressing you.

Your shirt is the first to be removed, a groan spilling from the blonde when he discovers you aren’t wearing a bra. He pulls you flush against his chest, peppering wet kisses down your neck and shoulders as your eyes roam over Shouta’s sculpted frame. The raven haired man makes his way over, kneeling down between your legs and reaching up to toy with your breasts, rough fingers working your nipples until they peak. Hizashi’s hands find their way down to the pouch of your stomach, grabbing at the soft pliant flesh and squishing the fat there.

You let out a low whine, feeling extremely self-conscious with his hands working at the parts of your body you hate the most. You grab at his wrists in an attempt to pull him away, but he hushes you and whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“It’s okay, pretty baby. Let me feel you.” You will yourself to let him go, let his hands explore your body the way he wants. He keeps his hands on your belly, long fingers massaging into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He’s nipping and kissing at your neck, whispering praises into your ear as he fondles all the fatty parts of you.

Shouta’s hands reach up and tug your panties down, then grip your thighs and pull them apart, exposing you to his hungry eyes. You can’t help but feel exposed, uncomfortable, as they touch and gaze at every part of yourself you had always despised. A whimper builds in your chest, tears beginning to sting your eyes and your breath shaking. Hizashi leans over and kisses your tears away as Shouta leans forward and kisses at your belly and thighs, hands working at whatever flesh he couldn’t get his lips on.

“Let us love you. All of you. You’re such a pretty kitty.” You let yourself relax, let yourself relish in the fact that these two gorgeous men are doting over your body like you’re a goddess, like they couldn’t live if they didn’t worship every one of your perfect imperfections. Though you’re far from comfortable, the initial fear subsides, allowing them full access to you.

“Good girl kitty, good girl.” Shouta whispers as he nips at your thighs, sucking little red marks into your skin. He hooks your legs over Hizashi’s, and the blonde’s fingers dip down to tease your folds, barely breaching your little hole and making you buck for more friction. A soft moan slips from your lips as he pushes two long fingers into your soaked pussy.

You rock your hips into his hand, his palm barely brushing against your clit making you mewl. Shouta focuses his attention on your breasts and belly where Hizashi left bare, kneading and kissing and licking, leaving blooming marks all over your skin. Soon you feel a knot form in your stomach, tightening and burning impossibly hot. Hizashi feels your pussy clenching around his fingers and quickens his pace, grinding his palm down against your clit hard and curling his fingers to hit that spot that has you seeing stars.

When the knot snaps you’re falling apart on Hizashi’s lap, back arched and legs shaking. You throw your head back against his shoulder and cry out, pleasure racking your body in intense waves. Hizashi keeps moving his fingers inside you, letting you ride out your high, legs trembling and toes curling with the continued stimulation.

After your release you relax back down, chest heaving with every breath. Hizashi lifts you up and lays you down on the bed, Shouta crawling up over you and kissing you sweetly. He grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, lining up his painfully hard erection with your throbbing pussy.

“Are you ready for me kitty?” You look up at him through your lashes and nod fervently, needing him desperately despite the sensitivity. He tugs at your collar gently.

“Use your words kitty cat. Are you ready for me?” Your eyes widen slightly and you answer without any real thought.

“Yes Daddy.” Shouta growls at the name and swears under his breath, thrusting his hips forward and bottoming out all at once. The air is punched from your lungs, the stretch around his thick length almost enough to make you cum a second time. Shouta leans down and kisses at the bruises Hizashi had left on your neck, giving you some time to adjust. It only takes a few moments for your walls to stop clamping down on him.

“I’m going to move now kitty. Relax for me.” He starts slow, groaning as he watches his length slide in and out of you.

Your warmth feels so good around his cock, and he moves faster, driving his cock so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. Hizashi lays down next to you and puts two fingers into your mouth, your tongue sliding over them, coating them in your saliva.

He pulls them out and goes to rub your clit, leaning over and placing open mouth kisses along your collarbone, sucking new bruises onto your skin. Your legs quake with the quick building pleasure, your second orgasm creeping up fast. Suddenly both men stop their movements, Shouta pulling your body flush against him and sitting up.

Lithe, cold fingers suddenly dance around your back entrance, toying with your puckered hole. A single finger pushes in and you mewl and squirm at the new sensation. A second finger works its way in, the two digits working to stretch you gently. Soon there’s a third, and when you’re relaxed the fingers are gone and replaced by the thick head of Hizashi’s cock.

“You ready, sweet thing?” You nod and whine, a little weary but ready to be full of the two men. He slowly inches his way inside, shallow thrusts sinking him deeper until his hips are flush with your ass. Both men pepper wet kisses along your shoulders, giving you time to relax, but you don’t need it. You whine, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get them to move, and they oblige.

Their initial pace is slow, letting you feel every ridge and vein as they slip in and out of you. They build up a rhythm, when one is bottomed out the other has only the tip in, and soon you’re drooling from the amount of stimulation you’re getting. Hizashi’s fingers move down to work at your clit, and just the slightest touch has you trembling. The stimulation shoves you over the edge and has you cumming hard around them, your slick dripping down your thighs. They slow their pace slightly, your holes clamping down on them and attempting to milk them dry. Hizashi’s fingers rub your clit harder, overstimulating you.

“Do you have one more for us baby? I know you can cum one more time for us.” You whine, thrashing in their arms trying to simultaneously get away and tug them closer. Tears fall down your cheeks and a familiar tension fills the pit of your stomach and Shouta leans over and bites down on your shoulder. The pain pulls you over, crying out as you clamp down on their lengths hard. Their hips stutter as they chase their own release, and they shoot rope after rope of cum into you as you ride out your own high.

They still their movements, holding you and each other close. After a few moments they pull out together, the movement making you moan and tremble. Your body goes limp and Shouta pulls you to lean against him, stroking your hair and back. You’re sobbing softly into Shouta’s shoulder, your last release washing over your body almost painfully, your bones already beginning to ache. Shouta rubs your back softly and Hizashi peppers soft kisses along your shoulders, both cooing praises in your ears.

Shouta picks you up and the three of you go over to the bathroom, where Hizashi plugs the drain and turns on the tap to fill the large tub with hot water. Shouta climbs in and sits down, still cradling you, and the slowly rising water begins to soothe you. Hizashi pulls out a tube of ointment and rubs it onto Shouta’s back, relieving the scratch marks you left on him. After tending to Shouta he unlocks your collar and sinks into the tub, leaning against you. You let the two massage you and wash you, bringing you back from the intense scene.

“You okay kitten?” Shouta rumbles into your ear, petting your hair. You nod into his shoulder and grab Hizashi’s hand, wanting to be close to the both of them. The hot water and the care of the two bring you back down to earth, and you start to feel fatigue pulling at your consciousness. Hizashi notices you drifting off and takes you from Shouta. He dries you off with a towel and locks your collar back around your neck.

“Sho, I’m going to take her to bed. When you’re ready come join us.” Shouta hums and Hizashi carries you to bed.

You lay with Hizashi and cuddle into his chest, letting him hold you and rock you as you drift off. After a few minutes you feel the bed behind you dip and look up at Shouta with half lidded eyes. He gives you a peck on the lips before nuzzling against your back. With a long, soft sigh you melt into their arms, content with the new life you’d been brought into.

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