#and the other is clenching around them. bc no matter how much resistance they give their body betrays them

[sukugo]

ive never really been into breeding but i think i get it i get it now 🤔

[imrllytootiredforthis]

you know how cats like when you scratch above their tailbone

that but with lee know, like

if your fucking him from behind, just scratch and stroke over his tailbone, its enough to get him coming untouched

and the way he mewls like a kitten...

kitty~

lee know x reader

warnings: dom reader, sub lee know, reader fucking him though could be w a strap or a dick, cumming untouched, kitty lino, idk what else

a/n: help, help, help, anon you are 😵‍💫🙏, this is really short and kinda shit bc i haven't written in forever but found this in my inbox and couldn't resist

it happens when you're fucking into him, ass up and head buried into the pillows bc poor baby is too embarrassed to let you hear the downright slutty whines and pleads dripping from his lips one after another as you ram into prostate over and over.

any other day you'd tug him up by his hair, wrap your hand around his throat and pull his back flush to your chest. making his head spin by placing your lips beside his ear, teeth nipping at his earlobe while you whispered such dizzying things to him.

but you're feeling nice today-or cruel.

with you, he finds that the two are often intertwined; one and the same really. able to bring him to the brink of insanity, leaving him drowning in the pool of your desire.

mercy is delivered in the form of sweet words and honeyed praises that seep into his skin, making him delirious like venom. and mercy is injected into him in the cruel way you thrust, pulling hoarse whines from him with every jolt of your hips: rough, demanding, animalistic, just the way he likes it.

"oh kitty~" you coo, and he mewls, proving the point you've made. "so pathetic." and you were right. you make him feel like he's melting, drooling into a puddle for you to mold and remake into whatever you pleased.

you sigh, "so messy," another truth, you were almost worried for your sheets with the amount of pre-cum he was leaking. "you gonna purr for me next? like a good kitty?"

he clenched around you, delightfully so.

he just looks so much like a cat right now.

the cat ears you had so lovingly placed in his hair, matching in colour so well they fit in seamlessly they might as well be real.

the way his hips sway, grinding back onto you to match your thrusts. you swear if he had a tail it would be flicking back and forth. wrapping around your thigh or ankle, trying to find some form of holding onto you- stay sane in the depths of this haze.

you were sure if he could purr, it would be loud enough for you to hear no matter how much he'd try to hide them. you could still hear his muffled mewls and cute hiccupy gasps even now.

just like a cat.

your pretty kitty, your lino.

and maybe...just maybe...

experimentally, cautiously (because much like a cat, you knew he didn't need to be provoked much to bite) you pressed your hand, lightly against his tailbone.

his reaction was immediate, and obvious, startlingly so.

his back arched. his thighs trembling, keening as he pressed back against you, grinding needily, like he couldn't get enough, like he could never get enough.

so you pressed slightly harder, rubbing small circles to the area, ripping high desperate mewls as he spasmed around you. unable to help his head snapping back, looking at you with wide, watery eyes as he came, dirtying the already ruined bedding with his spend.

you couldn't bring yourself to care at this point.

and he couldn't either.

you hummed, amused as you watch him slump onto the dirtied sheets, completely boneless. a quiet cry following when you slipped out of him.

"well that's something new~"

"-you...-you are never doing that again." he huffs, quietly, with little deliberation. with just enough force, in a way that you know he's going to be begging for it in less time than one may think with a stubborn, steadfast man such as your lino.

you only laughed and he shuddered at the sound.

"we'll see, kitty."

a/n: please, please give me a little slack if this is awful-the thoughts took over i wrote this in like half an hour in a moment of weaknessssss😫 i can't control them anymoreeeee

also ik i have a taglist i'll prolly get that out later today if i ever get it out at all😭

[kashimos-hajime]

definition of a good boy | a.a.

summary: literally you just peg the FUCK out of armin arlert. that’s it. and he looks real fucking pretty taking it.

WARNINGS: smut (18+), switch!reader (but majority femdom), switch!armin (majority sub <3), PEGGING, edging, anal fingering ahgnfkld, safe word (not used), oral (fem-receiving), overstim, praise kink, minor dacryphilia bc that shit HITS pairing: armin arlert x fem!reader word count: 3.7k

a/n: if armin no like peg, why he look like THAT last episode? ANYWAY this is who i represent now. just,,, pegging men and making them cry

crossposted on ao3

You wonder how many times Armin’s thought about this before. Or even, the first time at least. 

Was it when you rode him until he was crying for relief, your hands around his throat and your lips ravaging his own? Or maybe that time you had riled him up until he had you pinned in an alleyway just outside a fucking embassy, panties swept aside by the crook of his fingers and cock sheathed inside your wet folds as you cried out into his shoulder.

Which in itself was a feat. It’s probably the most difficult thing in the world to irritate Armin Arlert to the point where he wants to fuck the attitude out of you, and it had started with a dress that had a slit up to your thigh, and you tugging at his tie in the middle of his conversations, and ended with bruised collarbones, jelly legs, and fucking Connie texting you, WOW GOOD JOB!!!!! SASHA OWES ME TWENTY.

But you digress. You could probably pinpoint a million times he’s thought about it, a million times more when you have. It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that Armin Arlert is laid out right in front of you, flushed, sweating, eyes closed shut and mouth shamelessly open as you jack him off. His cheeks are red, the blush spreading down his neck and chest, but nothing compares to the shade of his lips as you swallow down his moan, tongue dipping into his mouth. Your other hand pins down his shoulder as he lets out a soft whine, and you smile, drawing back just as quickly as you came.

“You look so pretty, baby,” you whisper, brushing the hair fanning across his forehead back. The golden strands glimmer in the warm light of their room as Armin lets out another strangled noise when you squeeze the tip of his cock, the precum warm underneath your palm. “You think you’re ready?”

“Yeah.” His hands are on your back, fingers scratching the skin and sending shivers down your spine, yet now, one travels to the back of your neck and pulls you down for another deep kiss. Their mouths meet messily and his other hand trails down to your hips, your thighs by his waist, and squeezes. “I’m ready. I trust you.”

Pulling back, your gut clenches and you wish you’d taken up his offer to ride the edge off on his thigh, but you’d been so excited that you had refused. Now, nervous energy mixes with the heady arousal surrounding them you pull off of him, fingers giving one last pump to his hard cock. Sitting aside with the lube, you watch as Armin rolls over, revealing a muscled back ripe with tension and you immediately crawl over to him.

“Tense?”

“Nervous, yeah.” His fingers dig into the bedsheets as you place a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. His blond hair tickles the apple of your cheek and you situate yourself right over him. Squeezing a sizeable amount of lube onto your pointer and third finger, you smear it down to your base knuckles and glance at Armin again. His cheek is pressed against the mattress, his sedated face betraying the hunger in those blue eyes. His hips twitch against the blankets almost imperceptibly but you let it slide—they both need a moment to just…

“Safe word?” you ask.

“Conch,” he replies dutifully. “Don’t worry so much or I’ll start to worry.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you or for you to hate this.”

“The most important thing is that we tried it, alright?” He reaches back to grab your hand, and you look down at his fingers wrapping around your wrist. Twisting to hold onto him, you kiss his fingers before he lets go, resumes the slow grind against the mattress and you watch, transfixed at the rolls of his hips. Reminded of the slick glistening down your thighs, you clench your legs together as a soft moan is muffled by Armin’s face buried in the sheets. His knuckles are white as his thrusts grow frantic, but they both know that nothing on this bed is enough friction for what they both want.

Too many nights with disappointing outcomes have taught them better—silk is good for hair and skin only, it seems.

“On your knees,” you murmur, and he freezes, face turning slowly to reveal blissed out face and a panting mouth. Stomach fluttering at how obedient he is, you situate yourself right behind him as he rises to his knees and elbows and you spot the wet stain where his precum had soaked into the sheets. Smiling, you rise up on your knees, lean over, and kiss his spine, settling a hand on the small of his back. “Relax, baby.”

Your fingers slip between his cheeks and rub along the hole, the heat emanating from his skin incinerating. Gently, you sink your fingers in and he lets out a choked noise at the stretching as you scissor slowly to give him time to get used to the burning. His fingers sink into the mattress, claw-like, and his back tenses up but you lean forward, running a soothing hand between his shoulder blades.

“Are you okay, baby?” you whisper, the resistance making you pause so he can get used to it. He lifts his head, gasping before nodding to the wall.

“I’m okay.” Forehead to the sheets again. “Keep going.”

Kissing his hip, you nod and push forward as your hand on his back spreads out, and you feel the moment he relaxes because something inside him eases, too. Your fingers sink in despite how tight it is, near-choking as his legs twitch against your thighs. You watch the back of his head keenly, catch the speedy rise and fall of his shoulders as you slowly draw your fingers in and out, getting him used to the sensation.

Tiny sounds escape his mouth as he rests his cheek against the bed, his sharp gasps whenever you push in deeper than before music to your ears and to the growing drip of arousal between your legs.

It’s when Armin’s legs shoot out from underneath him, his whole body collapsing and a loud moan comes out of him that you really snap awake. Your hand ripped out from between his asscheeks, you jump back, eyes widening in fear and you crawl up so you can spot his face. His eyes are wide enough that you can see a ring of white around his blue, blue eyes, and he’s coated in a fine layer of sweat over his pink cheeks. A hand is slapped over his mouth and you hear his raspy pants through his nose, desperate and rapid as you lower yourself to his eye level.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” you ask but he lifts a wet hand from his mouth, and you watch slowly as he grabs your wrist tightly. Lube from your fingers drips onto your hand as he yanks you close.

“Why’d you stop?” he groans. “If that’s how it feels every time I hit your g-spot, I wish we started this sooner.”

Electricity zaps through your chest and your lips pull into an incredulous smile as he lets go of your wrist and cups your neck, pulling you down into an open-mouthed kiss and you moan into his mouth as he pushes himself up onto an arm, tongue exploring your cheeks, his hand sliding down your back. It’s decidedly slow, unpretentious, intimate, and you remind yourself that there’s still a task at hand, no matter how persuading Armin can be with his eyes, hands, tongue, or otherwise.

Parting, your heart pounds like a damned drum as he squeezes your ass but you pluck his hand off of you, pushing him back down onto all fours.

“Elbows and knees, Arlert. I’m not finished with you yet,” you murmur and you see the shiver in his body at the idea. He does as he’s told, lowering himself until his face is against the mattress and his ass is up in the air, and you migrate to his end again, through the molasses air until you’re where you were before. 

A hand on the small of his back, you ease your fingers in again, and this time, when he lets out a sharp whine, you know not to give up but to give in, push against the spongey flesh at your fingers that sends his hips jolting back into your palm. Peering at a pretty blond head, you frown when you see his palm has found its place over his mouth again and without thinking, your hand on his back trails to his ass, giving it a light slap before squeezing the flesh.

“Let me hear you, pretty boy,” you croon as his back arches with a choked ah! that fills your stomach with butterflies. Pushing down on his spine, with every whine, moan, desperate more, every pleading deeper, baby, you reward him with another thrust of your fingers that makes Armin writhe with pleasure you can feel everywhere in his body. Heat licking at your own face, you get so lost in the rocking of his hips, the sheets twisting under Armin’s fists as he tries to chase his own high, that you nearly miss the signs of his coming orgasm.

Classic: he starts swearing like a sailor.

“Fuck—hngh!—C’mon, baby. Come on. I’m so close.”

And the panting that’s so noticeably heavy and fast that it’s a wonder he can even breathe with how much he’s begging and squirming by the pressure of your fingers alone. 

Those two things echo in your head as you pull your fingers out just as he stands on the brink of his eyes rolling back from the black-out euphoria he must’ve been on the edge on because when you stop, he lets out the loudest fucking curse you’ve ever heard in your life.

No, fuck! Baby!” His whines are music to your ear as he buries his face in the silk. “Baby, I was so fucking close! You, you—“

“I? I?” you tease, a thrill igniting underneath your heart at how he sweats and arches underneath your hand. “You’re just so pretty for me all needy, Armin. Not every night I get to edge you.”

“It could be,” he pleads, his hips lowering to the mattress again as he reaches forward for a pillow to shove between his legs but you smack the hand away as you stretch for the nightstand. “Baby, just let me cum. Let me cum and I’ll let you edge me every night. Please, please, please—“

“Armin,” you censure, although the words are enticing and you know if you brought it up to him outside the bedroom tomorrow morning, he’d blush and have to accept his own vow. But you’re not that cruel. “When have you ever given in to my pleading?”

Maybe you’re worse. You don’t mind that at all.

“Sometimes, I do. When you’ve been a good girl.” His hips begin to rub against the silk sheets as you grab the strap-on and buckle it up comfortably around your hips. Armin’s oblivious to it all and you let him have his moment of faux relief, pretending you don’t notice. He’s going to need the breather after you’re done with him. “And I’ve been good. I swear it.”

“Really?” Grabbing the lube bottle that’s been lost in the sheets, you squirt a hefty amount all over the silicone and run your hand up and down the shaft, warming it up. “I don’t think trying to fuck yourself on silk sheets like you’re a prince without a whore is going to help you much now is it, hm?”

His hips freeze and you chuckle to yourself, the power trip making you dizzy as you hum appreciatively and lean over him, the tip of the strap leaving a wet trail from between his cheeks down his spine. Your lips find the knob of his spine, mouthing at it warmly as his entire body goes taut and you reach blond hair, nosing it away and sucking a mark onto his neck. He lets out a soft moan, lifting his head and reaching up a hand to wrap around the back of your neck. 

Bracing yourself, you smile and find the sensitive spot right underneath his jaw, biting gently.

“Armin,” you whisper huskily against the shell of his ear, nose drawing along his temple. “What’s that again about being a good boy?” You return your mouth to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, grinning wickedly when his back arches and he lets out a helpless whine. Inhaling the smell of clean soap, you crane your head to look down between your bodies. He’s laid out bare in front of you, and you wiggle your hips, nestling the strap back between his ass cheeks, just to get him used to the sensation.

Tearing yourself away and back up, you cup his thighs and pull him back up to his knees.

“Anyway,” you continue, as if remarking on the weather, “I don’t know if you do deserve this anymore. Seeing as if every time I stopped touching you, you’ve gone to rutting the bed like I wouldn’t notice.” The tip presses against his hole and you feel his shiver. You tilt your head. “Nothing to say now, huh.”

“No, no, please. Fuck! I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I won’t do it again. I promise. I really promise, baby.”

“Right.” You don’t believe him, but nonetheless, you smile. “Why don’t you prove it and relax?” A soft noise keening from his mouth, he nods and lowers himself deeper. Counting silently to yourself, you wait until he gets comfortable.

When he does, you set a hand on his hip, another on his back, and slowly push in. 

“Ah!” His head snaps up, knuckles blanching as he grasps the sheets. Breathing quickening, he stiffens but you hush him quietly, stroking soothing shapes into his skin. You slowly ease out again and he exhales. A heat sears through your chest and the urge to slip your fingers in, to push against the spongey part again until he’s begging, not for you to stop or for you to continue, but just crying begging for you, causes you to groan to yourself.

“You don’t know how pretty you look all like this, Armin,” you murmur as he shifts back and you laugh gently. “You really want this, hm?” You push back in gently, and it goes easier this time. Your hips nearly press flush against his skin as he lets out a choked noise. “Lemme hear you, yeah? God, I wanna hear you so bad, baby.”

“Hngh! Ah—“ You draw back only to sink back in again, bottoming out and you know you hit it when his elbows slide out from under him, cheek against the bed. You pause, tip pressing against the prostate until he’s blabbering, voice going raw with desperation. “Baby! Baby, baby, baby, oh God—“

Guts tightening, you bite your lip, trying to hold back your own moan as he tries to jerk back. 

“You want me to move, baby?”

“Yes! Yes, please. Please, please, please.” His hand claws at his face, caging his mouth but doing nothing to muffle any of his noise as you push harder. His eyes roll back and you smirk, pulling back. “Baby!”

“Alright, alright. Since you asked so nicely.” And you sink into him, faster this time, hitting your mark so easily that when his moans arise, it’s only incentive for you to continue thrusting, your movements sloppy but quick. Hips against his ass, your fingers dig into his hips as he begins to rock back against you, settling into an unsteady rhythm only they can begin to understand.

You watch in delicious satisfaction as Armin falls apart, raising his ass higher, sinking deeper into his chest. A soft whine rises with every movement as he gasps out, “Harder,” and you nearly fucking lose yourself in the high-pitched rasp in his voice. His voice begins to thicken when you listen, and you catch sight of his cheek, glistening with tears.

“You close, baby?” you pant at the sight. Fuck, he’s so fucking pretty; it’s otherwordly. Your hips beginning to tire, the smack and slide of their skin the only other thing you can feel besides how hard and tight he is as he nods, red lip trapped between teeth. “Yeah? You’re doing so well, you know? God, I’m so proud of you.” He lets out a whiny mhm! A harsh throbbing between your legs, you squeeze his hips. “C’mon, baby. C’mon. You’re so pretty. Pretty boy crying for me.”

“God, I love you,” he cries out, body beginning to shake as his breath hitches in his throat sharply like a ragged gasp after nearly drowning. “I love you so much. Please, let me cum. I wanna be good. Lemme be good for you.”

Lurching forward, you plunge as deep as you can into him and he lets out a hoarse wail as you sink your teeth into his side, at his ribs. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him flush against yourself and he shudders, head raised as he claws at the sheets, riding off his own orgasm on your strap, shamelessly, with reckless abandon and you press your face into his shoulder blade, rocking with his moves.

Soft, airy moans fill the silence as he stubbornly tries to keep going as he falls back on his knees, in some yoga pose you can’t remember the name of, and you draw yourself back up, shallowly rolling your hips against his until he’s crying into his arm, ears red, cheeks red, everything red and warm and slick.

Sighing, you finally pull out and he lets out a whimper at the loss. Sitting back on your ankles, you begin to unbuckle the strap, climbing over his shaking leg to grab the towel on their nightstand. Wiping off the lube and juices from the silicone, you glance over your shoulder at your dazed boyfriend, and a soft smile pulls at your mouth as he tries to catch his breath. Back rising and falling, he wipes at his face and you chuckle, abandoning your cleaning efforts to crawl over to his face. Leaning down to kiss his cheek, you hum.

“Pretty baby,” you murmur as his blue eyes rake over your face, down your body covered in a fine layer of sweat. You lay down beside him, mirroring his position so you’re on your stomach, chest resting on your forearm. Your other hand lifts, fingers brushing through hair that falls over his eyes lazily. His irises are still blown out with lust, the residual pleasure still occupying his face in how lax his face is, how he barely keeps his eyes open. “You okay?”

“More than okay.” His voice is nothing more than a mumble as he turns to plug his eyes with his forearm and you laugh, scooting closer to kiss his ear. “I dunno if I can walk tomorrow, though.”

“I did go a bit hard on you, didn’t I?”

“’S okay. I asked for it.” He lifts his head with a cold breath, and he looks at you again. “I wanted it. So badly. You did so good, baby.”

“A-Armin—“ His name is swallowed up by his lips and you let out a noise of surprise as he cups the back of your neck. Pushing you onto your back, he deepens the kiss and their legs tangle up as his other hand runs down your side. A soft moan spills out of your mouth into his as he trails inward, exploring the slick pooling down your legs. Without a second to waste, he sinks a finger in easily to the first knuckle, curling sinfully and your legs spasm against his.

“Maybe you liked it more than me,” he hums, lifting his mouth from yours. Before you can refute that claim, he’s travelling down your body, free hand adoring every single curve and line. You let out a small protest as he slips his finger out but it’s almost instantly replaced by his mouth suctioning onto your cunt. Heat splinters through your body and your legs wrap around his head immediately.

“Fuck, Armin,” you sigh, hands buried under the pillow above your head as he laps at your slit and when you raise your head to see him peering back, you groan at the sheen covering his chin and lips. His eyes are still blown out, darkened with lust, and he dips his mouth again as the coil inside you tightens and just seeing him beneath you again has your eyes rolling back. His hand squeezes your thigh as your breath hitches and you feel it coming, harsh, white, and hot.

Chest blistering tight, your eyes flutter shut and your fingers scrape at silk as your hips rut against his face. You’re so fucking close—fuck, fuck, fuck—

“Armin!” You let out a hoarse scream as he slams a hand over your mouth and your back arches as his other hand presses your hips down. Eyes rolling back, your hands wrap around his wrist as he sucks on your clit, massages you through the crashing waves that run through your body. Legs trembling, you try to move away but he only huffs a laugh, kissing your slit before licking a stripe up. The overstimulation makes you whine, shaking as he continues to tease you out, drinking you, eating you as if you’re his last meal on death row.

His name spills out of your mouth in shameless babbles, praises about how good he is for you coming out raw as you try to catch your breath but he won’t let you. Not even for a second. 

Armin only breathes you in—hums against your soaked thighs, biting gently on the flesh, and your hands fly to your face, one over your mouth, another over your eyes as a helpless, incoherent plea spills out of you. You feel the smirk in his cheeks as he pushes himself closer and your hips nearly lift but he pulls you back down to the bed, chuckling.

“Am I good boy now?” he asks huskily against your cunt. Shivers shoot up your spine and he inhales deeply, squeezing your thighs like he’s never seen something so fuckable. “Or do I need to prove it to you again?”

[kaidenya]

Getting Caught ✧ MHA

Description: Headcanons for getting caught in a intimate moment with Hitoshi Shinso, Tenya Iida, Mirio Togata, & Tomura Shigaraki

WARNING: NSFW, suggestive content NOTE: This is a repost of an old SHITPOST headcanon I had on my previous account so if this looks familiar I hope you enjoy it the second time around!

“Nobody will know...”

Shinso

Shinso would go to his grave claiming that you were to blame for this situation

But in all honesty, he had been allowing things to build for far too long

You two weren’t necessarily a secret, but most people just assumed you were bEsT fRiEnDs 🥴

It was an honest misunderstanding

You had decided to keep physical contact to a minimum after an unfortunate attempt at holding his hand left you believing he didn’t enjoy any forms of PDA.

Shinso had just assumed the same about you.

However, as the two of you grew more serious, you found it more difficult to keep your hands to yourself

It just so happened your boyfriend had been working extremely hard in the hero course and it s h o w e d

You had found yourself admiring his changing physique and in turn, found you weren’t the only one admiring your boyfriend.

You weren’t necessarily jealous— you trusted him more than anything, but he tended to be socially constipated

And nobody seemed to know about you. Thus giving the other interested parties an unintentional greenlight to flirt with him. And there was one girl that had stood out among the sea of suitors.

Each time you saw the second-year girl perch next to Shinso it made your skin crawl, but no lines had been crossed.

Until they were.

Your knuckles were gripping the strap of your bag so tightly it ached when you made your way to where your boyfriend was perched outside

The second-year didn’t even acknowledge you as she continued her flirtatious ways and you don’t resist the urge to roll your eyes as you settle into the place next to him.

He had flashes you a lazy smile before focusing back on his phone screen.

Then her hand landed on his upper thigh

Let me tell you: sleepy boy was shocked when she touched him, but he was EVEN MORE SHOCKED when you took her by the wrist and tossed her hand to the side

You waste no time threading your fingers with his, rising to your feet and all but hauling him from his seat

His amusement only grew as he realized just how jealous you had gotten, a smirk forming over his lips as he set to teasing you

‘What’s the matter, kitty? You don’t like anyone touching daddy?’

NO, YOU DO NOT

You have no idea how you ended up on your knees in a supply closet??

Shinso is feeling very sure of himself above you, using the hand that was gripping the back of your neck as leverage to hold you down on his length

k i n g of dirty talk 🤭

Absolutely cannot help himself when it comes to telling you how pretty you look choking on his cock

Honestly doesn’t last long, but what do you expect? Seeing your jealous and possessive response to the girl he had given little to no acknowledgment had lit a fire in his chest

He was desperate to get his hands on you, to remind you that he was just as much yours as you were his.

And when he does— oh MAN he makes you forget all about the second-year girl

He has one of your legs draped over his shoulder as he goes down on you, licking and sucking at you in a way that had you trembling

You accidentally knock over a pile of brooms and mops, neither of you paying them any mind as your head lulled in bliss

If only you had remembered to flick the lock on the door…

Kirishima really thought someone was banging on the door for help. It wouldn’t have been manly— or heroic not to make sure someone wasn’t in trouble

Besides, why else would someone be making so much noise in a supply closet if they weren’t stuck??

So when the door swung open and he locked eyes with you, still panting and moaning as an all too familiar head of purple hair buried further into your heat—

He let out the loudest shout he could muster. Apologies poured from his mouth as he fumbled to shut the door

However, your boyfriend made no move to let you go. Instead, he hummed against your skin, only leaning back to nip at your inner thigh before speaking in a heavy voice

‘Better make this fast, kitty.’

Iida

So you’ve tried to keep your relationship on the down-low bc Iida doesn’t want anyone to think he’s distracted

We all know he just doesn’t wanna be called out for his obvious favoritism

Before you got together you were constantly pushing him, breaking minuscule rules in favor of gaining his attention. Nothing too immoral, but enough to get under his skin.

Like slipping into class just seconds after the bell had rung, nearly avoiding Aizawa’s attention, but never making it past Iida.

Or when a class had gotten a bit too stressful, the room filling with hot air as tensions rose and you had to pop open a few buttons of your uniform top

Then there was your favorite offense; desk sitting. If there was one sure way to get a reaction from your stickler of a boyfriend it was to place yourself on top of a desk.

Which is what you found yourself doing at the end of an unfavorable week. The two of you hadn’t gotten a moment together outside of your studies and you were growing needy.

So with a few moments of free time before class began, you decided to chat with Tsu and Uraraka, settling atop the desk between them when you had grown tired of standing

The desk belonging to none other than Tenya

Your ankles were crossed as you leaned forward to speak with Tsuyu and he was beyond s h o o k

Immediate hand chopping.

He’s towering over you, ranting about how your behavior was improper while keeping his hands clenched in an attempt to keep from running his fingertips along your thighs.

When was the last time you were this close to him? It had to have been longer than he realized for him to have such a strong reaction— are you biting your lip??

Any response between you died off as Aizawa addressed the class and you were sent back to your seat, leaving Iida far more frazzled than you realized

The moment class ends he has you tucked under an empty stairwell to continue his lecture

Only he doesn’t get very far

Tenya Iida has an authority kink. I take no criticism.

When you look up at him from under your lashes, muttering the words ‘yes sir’ as he chastised you, his resolve was shattered

Has you pressed against the wall immediately, fisting your blazer as he dips to press his forehead to yours

‘Why must you push me?’

Doesn’t even let you answer before his mouth is covering yours, hips arching to grind his obvious arousal against you

Knowing he had been just as affected by your as you had him was enough to spur a moan past your lips and he takes the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth

Although he was MORTIFIED at the impropriety of it all, he couldn’t resist the sweet noises you made as he expertly worked against you

His hand eventually slides between you, pushing past the waistband of your bottoms and grinding his palm against you teasingly

‘Now, who do you belong to, darling?’

You you youyouyou—

Your hand was rubbing along Iida’s hard cock, his length straining against his pants to the point you’re almost worried they’ll rip

Somehow the two of you had been so lost in one another that you hadn’t heard the door open at the top of the stairwell

Denki and Mineta honestly weren’t creeping this time— they just wanted a snack from the vending machine adjacent to you!

Got a whole ass meal instead 👁👄👁

A moan tore from your throat, quickly being smothered by Tenya’s parted lips as you came on his fingers

You had barely made out the echoing sound of objects clattering to the ground through the ringing in your ears

But your boyfriend had heard

His lips separated from you in an instant, shocked gaze shifting into something closer to anger as he recognized your classmates

Denki began stammering out an apology, looking close to short-circuiting as his attention flickered between you

Mineta had let his gaze linger on you for too long. His eyes taking in the way your exposed chest— Tenya must have pulled the buttons loose

You cringe away from his gaze, post-orgasm haze™ spurring you to tuck yourself closer to Tenya to avoid their stares rather than snap at them

It was your obvious discomfort that had kicked Iida into gear, twisting to thread your button your blouse together before rounding on the others

If embarrassment wasn’t enough, the thought of them having seen you in such a vulnerable position had him seething as he began his lecture

Attempts hand chopping them into submission, but they kept disregarding his words in favor of catching another glimpse of you in a fucked out state

All fondness for his classmates had vanished as he stepped into their line of sight, shielding you from their gazes. His eyes almost daring them to continue

Whatever words lingering on their tongues died off, heads bowing in shame as they agreed to keep the entire situation to themselves

After all, the potential wrath of Tenya Iida was not something to be taken lightly.

Mirio

Mirio’s love language is touch, without a doubt, so it’s honestly surprising when he’s NOT trying to get handsy with you

He’s always defended his obvious displays of affection by claiming he had so little free time— he’d be a fool to waste the opportunity to touch you!

Mirio jumped at the opportunity to feel you against him. Whether it was a heavy kiss to your lips after walking you to class, a hand slipping under your shirt to caress your back, or his fingers trailing teasingly along your thigh.

However, as much as he was attentive, he was also forgetful.

It was because of that forgetfulness that you found yourself alone in your dorm. Countless boxes of takeout were lined up on your desk and a pre-planned movie was ready to play on your small tv.

After a few hours and countless delivered messages, you succumbed to disappointment.

The following day Mirio can’t seem to figure out why you’re avoiding him, but he refuses to give up without a fight.

Definitely thinks it’s a game of some sort and takes it upon himself to break your silent streak

It wasn’t easy being upset with Mirio. He had an uncanny ability to brighten any room he stepped into and being irrevocably in love with him only strengthened his effect

He’s always hard for you and loves letting you know just how you affect him— so why not place a hand on your hand, pressing firmly against your back when he slips past?

You always look so stunning— why not feed you compliments at every given moment?

How could he not look at you with the most iNTENSE GAZE undressing you with his eyes in front of everyone?

It’s when he realizes that you aren’t reacting to his teasing and flirtatious behaviorist that he caves.

He finds you between classes, stirring you away from the crowd, despite your wordless protests. It isn’t until you’re tucked away in an abandoned hall that he finally asks what was wrong

You had fully intended on dragging it out, allowing anger to push you on. But he spoke to you in the softest voice, looked at you with eyes filled with so much devotion that it was nearly overwhelming

He is shocked when you shove him away— were you tearing up??

Actually gets super defensive because he doesn’t realize HES the one that made you upset

Once you finally cave and remind him about the date he had missed it hits him like a freight train.

The two of you so rarely got time together and he had stood you up.

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I’ve been so busy lately— I didn’t realize I was neglecting you.’

Does not waste time making it up to you. He cups your face in his hands as he starts placing soft kisses on your face, cooing softly as tears roll down your cheeks

Did somebody say praise kink?

How can you stay mad at him when he’s telling you how sorry he is and that he loves you and you’re the only one his dick will get hard for??

It isn’t long before he’s pinned you between him and the wall, hitching your legs around his waist while coaxing you into a heavy kiss

His hips flex to grind against you, his hot length slotting between your thighs as he digs his fingertips into the curve of your ass

Mirio does not care that somebody could see— his quirk leaves him naked all the time and he’s shameless 🥵

But again he’s so forgetful—

And he was meant to go straight to class 1A to talk with them alongside the other members of The Big Three

So when he didn’t show up Aizawa had sent Tamaki and Midoriya in search of their future number one hero

How were you supposed to know they would turn the corner just as you arched from the wall?

Mirio had no idea anyone was there as he used the hand that was wrapped around your throat as leverage to grind you over the edge—

bOY were you embarrassed when you heard the two boys audibly g a s p

Midoriya’s embarrassment nearly gave Tamaki a run for his money. You were quick to turn away, immediately hiding your face in his chest as he greeted the duo in an overly cheerful voice

Absolutely teases the three of you over the incident FOREVER!!

Shigaraki

Shigaraki was obsessed with you.

There was no way around how infatuated he had become and it only seemed to grow alongside your relationship

He was touch starved. The moment you began giving him physical affection and attention it was game over

He had no shame, especially when it came to his desire for you, which is how you often found yourself perched on his lap no matter the company.

That being said, the leader of the League of Villains became intolerable when the two of you were separated for long.

And a recent spiral of events has prevented you from returning to the hideout, thus leaving the others to deal with him

You weren’t expected to return until the following week. Aside from texting Shigaraki endlessly (didn’t he have anything better to do?) and assuring Twice and Toga that you’d be returning as soon as possible, you hadn’t had much contact with the League

Shigaraki was wound up tight, lashing out at the others far more than usual. That was how he ended up sitting at the bar, Father concealing his annoyance as Kurogiri took over the meeting.

And suddenly you were walking in, muttering a quick apology before taking the only available seat beside Toga

Shigaraki could not keep his eyes off of you, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the others. It was the most present he had been since you left.

Of course, that meant Dabi has also noticed and never missing an opportunity to mess with their ruthless leader he shifted closer from his place behind you, muttering small talk into your ear

There is no doubt in my mind that Shigaraki was staring at you both like 😠 behind Father

Luckily the meeting had been wrapping up upon your arrival and the group was dismissed, many leaving to handle their own business.

However, the moment you had leaped to your feet Tomura had vanished from the room

With a sigh you moved over to the bar, sliding into the seat that had once been occupied by your man and Kurogiri placed a drink before you

By the time you had downed the last bit the bar had gotten eerily quiet, though when you shifted to speak to the Misty Man he was already looking over your shoulder. With a single nod, he had left the room.

The moment he was gone leather artist gloves shoved under your top, your heart racing at the all too familiar feeling as a palm settled between your shoulders

‘I’ve missed you, pet.’

There was a harsh tone to his voice, but it was contradicted by the trail of open-mouthed kisses he pressed along your neck and shoulder

Your entire body arched against him, head craning back to catch a glimpse of him, smiling widely as you met his gaze and returned the sentiment

A scoff slid past his lips, though you could see the amusement dancing in his gaze as his hand reached around to wrap around your throat

Despite the gloves, he kept a pinky in the air

His mouth covers yours in a sloppy kiss as his hips jolt sharply against you, knocking you against the countertop

Absolutely cannot control himself as he ruts against you, wasting little to no time in pushing your bottoms down past your thighs

Heat pooled in your stomach as his free hand reached between you to pull himself from his jeans

His dick slid between your thighs, a throaty whine sliding past your lips and despite the slick from your arousal the thick head stretched you perfectly

You had been completely lost in him, moaning and whining freely as he continued to rut against you.

There was a click throughout the room, similar to the door handle being twisted and your attention was adverted to the source

However, Shigaraki was faster.

He grabbed the back of your head and using his hold as leverage to press your face flat against the bar-top while his other hand worked against your sensitive center. A loud moan that was undoubtedly his name tumbled past your lips

‘There’s my little slut— louder, make sure they know who makes you feel this good.’

Unbeknownst to you, the person he wanted to be sure knew you were his had entered the room, Tomura meeting his gaze with a smirk as you began chanting his name like a prayer

A harsh thrust of his hips sent you over the edge as you came on his cock, filthy praises slipping past his lips as his hot release rolled down your thighs

He placed another sloppy kiss on the back of your neck before parting from you.

The moment you lift your head and begin adjusting yourself you lock eyes with Dabi

Embarrassed didn’t even begin to explain how you felt as Tomura let out a loud laugh, reaching down to pull your bottoms up after he had tucked himself away

‘Go wait on my bed while I speak with Dabi and I may let you come on my tongue.’

You wasted no time hurrying away from the two, heart pounding from both excitement and humiliation as you rushed to do as you were told

[in-tua-deep]

idk if you still do au ideas but what if delores was a real person in the apocalypse? how it woul dbe done i have no idea but i love all your aus and thought it would be cool

okay okay I don't tend to go for real!Dolores aus admittedly because I find her much more compelling as what she is: a reflection of five himself and a symptom of his crushing loneliness

but i started thinking about it and you know what?? i think five deserves a little socialization, as a treat

so say like, 0.5% of the population is resistant to abilities. Allison would really struggle to rumor them, Five wouldn't be able to jump with them, and, most importantly, whatever the fuck Vanya's ability does has like, reduced damage or something

and the og apocalypse isn't the moon apocalypse, so let's say that it was pure waves of Vanya's powers that fucked over the earth

so 0.5% of the population survives the apocalypse. though, let's be honestly, the real number is a lot smaller than that. People who might have survived Vanya's initial power wave (miraculously) did not survive buildings crushing them or survive the car/plane/bus/train/other transportation crashes or survive being left alone when they are too young to reliably look after themselves, or the variety of other problems that come with 99.5% of the population dying at once

So, Five arrives in the apocalypse and is met with ruin and fire and a whole lot of dead people. He finds his siblings, but it doesn't matter. They're dead. He doesn't even recognize them at first, these strange grown-ups who he identifies not by their faces but by the umbrellas on their wrists that match his own

As he realizes the full impact of his situation, he hears a voice that says, very succinctly, "holy shit!"

It's a girl a few years older than Five himself, maybe 15 or 16, and she is very excited to see another survivor.

And here's where I u-turn this au around bc i'm not all that interested in real!Dolores, but I would be down to talk about Five meeting survivors in the apocalypse, because if Dolores is real I don't buy no one else survived.

So Dolores shows up and see a Literal Child crying over the corpses of his family and assumes that Five is a fellow survivor, and she immediately grabs him up. Five is incoherent with grief at this point anyway, so he doesn't even protest when she basically hauls him away from the bodies. She's babbling at him, but he doesn't really hear anything she's saying

And then she takes him to her dad

(Why not, let's have the 1% potentially be a heritable thing)

and her dad, let's call him just some dad name. like Rick. it has been a fucking WEEK for him, okay. he had his daughter with him, his ex-wife is on the other coast for her work, and by some miracle he survived the apocalypse and so did his child, and he's been wracking his brains trying to figure out what the fuck to do next

and then his daughter shows up with a traumatized thirteen-year-old in tow

now rick is a good dude. he's a dad. they get out of five that his name is five ("what the fuck" dolores mouths to him over five's shoulder and rick can't help but agree) and the bodies he found were his siblings ("Dad and Ben and Vanya weren't there though," this child cries desperately and rick feels his own heart clench in response, "They might still be alive!")

"We can look for them." Rick assures his new adopted child, because he is an adult in a fresh apocalypse and this kid has presumably lost everything he's ever known (more than rick even knows at the time)

and they do. They each get wagons and they go out and find supplies and look for other survivors. Five is... surprisingly helpful and also surprisingly docile as he is able to rely on Someone Else to give orders while he attempts to (dissociate) process what the fuck has happened

and here's the thing: Five prides himself on being independent, sort of. He's independent for a child soldier, but he's used to taking orders from a male authority figure and Rick happens to be just that

The first time that Five does something dangerous and Rick yells is a revelation

(Rick isn't sure if he hopes that Five's dad is alive or not, because if they find that man alive then Rick might just kill the jackass himself. Also like, Five is bizarrely knowledgeable out survival skills, like way too knowledgeable about it, which is helpful for them but also very concerning)

they find a newspaper and Five finds the article that mentions his father's recent death ("Huh. Heart attack." Five says, and there is no emotion in his voice)

(Years later, years later, Five and Rick talk. "I don't think I wanted to find him, either." Five admits, softly because Dolores is asleep, "I think I was more scared of finding him alive than I was of finding his body. He would've been so mad at me, I think.")

this newspaper is how Rick and Dolores find out about Five being Number Five, Umbrella Academy Missing Person

"Dude, what the fuck." Dolores says, wide eyes, "You're like, thirty?"

"I'm thirteen." Five says, and then checks the date on the newspaper again, "Also I think I would technically be 29 if I lived through all of it, 'cause it's April and my birthday is in October."

"You... time travelled?" Rick asks, which is honestly the more relevant question, "Can you go back?"

And Five just,,, crumples on himself. Because he tried, he tried really hard. It didn't work. "I'm gonna figure it out. I'm gonna go back, I'm going to save them."

That, Rick thinks, is a lot of weight to put on one person's shoulders, but especially the shoulders of a child.

"Alright." Rick says, because what else can he say after finding out his new child has superpowers and is from like, 2004? "What do you need?"

("Oh my god I have so many memes to teach you." Dolores says later, reverently. Five blinks in confusion and Rick mentally prepares himself for the recitation of so many vines)

And it's easier, somehow. Five sometimes feels like it's a betrayal, but he settles into apocalypse life with an ease that surprises him.

He lets Rick fuss over him and help tie his scarf securely around his head every morning before he sets off on supply runs with Dolores. And they're kids! Five has never had a friend before, and Dolores is funny and smart and she's struggling just as much as he is.

"I don't know if my mom's alive." She says to him, in solidarity when he checks the face of every corpse to see if they're Vanya.

Five is practical in the way only a child soldier can be. He's economical with the room in their wagons, carefully examining what might and what might not be useful.

Dolores, on the other hand, constantly takes up space with what Five sees as useless shit.

"Excuse you," Dolores says, shoving a game of monopoly, the entire discworld series, and a pack of glitter gel pens into her wagon, "These are absolutely vital apocalypse supplies."

She challenges him, plays with him in a way no one ever has. "I bet you I can find more batteries today than you can," She grins at him, "Winner gets to pick dinner first?"

"You're on." Five says, directly before Dolores pulls two packs of 24 AA batteries from behind her back, like a cheat.

Dolores makes him take a ten minute break when they find a playground that has been mostly not-destroyed. They rummage around kids backpacks and mother's handbags for some good loot, too numb to corpses to even be bothered all that badly about the corpses they belong to.

"I'm getting on the swings." Dolores says when Five starts making noises about moving on, "I haven't been on a swingset in ages."

"What's the point?" Five grumps.

"Don't be sour because you can't swing as high as I can!" Dolores laughs, getting higher and higher as the swings creak ominously.

Five grumpily gets into the other swing and grudgingly kicks himself back and forth until Dolores takes pity on him and teaches him how to properly move his legs and body to get higher and higher.

Dolores jumps from the swing seat and lands with a flourish and smile. Five jumps out of his seat and then jumps, warping right in front of Dolores and making her yell and hit at him in outrage. Five smiles the widest he has all week.

This is how Five grows up in the apocalypse, with Dolores teasing him into taking breaks and leaning over his shoulder to look at his math and scandalizing him by stating that she'd only just started on matrices in her own high school math class.

Every night they huddle around Rick while he picks up whatever book Dolores picked out that day because it is a travesty that Five has never read hunger games or whatever, and then they read together because it would be a genuine blood bath if they all took turns. The first time Five accidentally mentioned a spoiler and Dolores genuinely considered murder was the birthday of this tradition

Some days the air is too smoky or there are dust storms or it's just plain too dangerous to go out, and they all stay in. Dolores regales Five with stories about public school, and Five tells them about his siblings.

Then they all cry

"I shouldn't be crying." Five sobs.

"Shut the fuck up," Dolores sobs back, "You literally watched me lose my shit over remembering my shitty eighth grade dance and listened to me sob-sing toxic for like four hours."

"In fairness I also wished you would shut up then."

"Let me hug you or I will start singing songs that I only remember the chorus for again you absolute fucker."

"I could always sing some -"

"No, Rick/Dad."

And Five grows up. Rick shows him how to shave very carefully in front of cracked mirrors. Dolores teases him every time his voice cracks. Rick tells Five in no uncertain terms that he loves and cares for him, and that Reginald was a little bitch. There are a lot of heartfelt conversations around that, honestly. Rick telling Five that he and the siblings deserved better, that they were children and deserved to have a childhood.

And that he has faith in Five. Rick and Dolores both do, they bring him back paper and pens and pencils and chalk and anything Five can use to write equations. They poke around any libraries for books on theoretical mathematics and quantum physics. Rick and Dolores go out scouting for food while Five stays home and can work longer.

They also make him take breaks, make sure that he's looking after himself.

They're a little better off than OG!Five when it comes to food, because some animals survive. Enough that Rick figures out how to hunt. Five is the first one to each bugs, and even though Dolores makes faces they all start eating bugs as well.

"Pretty sure there's loads of cultures that eat bugs." Rick says grudgingly, wondering if he should try stirfry the cockroaches and if that would improve the taste. "There's even, uh, cricket flour or whatever, right?"

"Plus you eat like, five spiders a year when you're asleep." Dolores says cheerfully, just to watch her dad's face scrunch up in displeasure.

"That doesn't sound true, but I don't know enough about spiders to dispute it." Five mutters, and Dolores gives him such a proud look that it makes him roll his eyes.

They're in their thirties when Rick dies. He's out foraging and hunting, and the rubble he's standing on gives way and he ends up with a gash in his leg. He manages to stop the bleeding, but the world is filthy and they don't have any antibiotics.

He gets an infection.

"It's okay." He tells both of his kids, "It's okay. I'm just so glad that you guys have each other, y'hear? I'm so glad."

"It's not okay." Five says, voice thick and choked, "It's not."

"Yeah, well, you're going to figure out how to go back, right? Go back in time and save everyone. Then I'll have never died, right?" Rick smiles, "And even if you don't, I'll be waiting for you on the other side and we'll see each other again anyway."

"I'm going to fix it."

"I know. I have faith in you, Five." Ricks says honestly, and that's more than Reginald ever said.

They sit quietly together while Dolores is out scavenging. They've been taking turns sitting with Rick.

"I won't remember you, in the past, will I?" Rick says rhetorically, but Five answers anyway.

"I don't think so."

Rick hums, "Well, doesn't matter. If you need help in the past, you come to me, y'hear?"

"You won't remember me."

"Doesn't matter. You come find me, and you tell me your crazy story until I believe you, and then I'll help you." Rick says firmly, "You're family. You're my son. Timelines? Don't matter. If you need help, with anything, even if it's just with - with filling out a bowling team or something -"

"I have never been bowling in my life and you know it." Five interrupts, but it makes him laugh just a little bit which was clearly Rick's intention.

"Well who knows what you'll get up to in the past! You'll be able to go bowling, you know. Get to wear those uncomfortable shoes. Hey, you go far enough back maybe you can go to Dolores's tenth birthday party and put me out of my misery."

"Was she bad at bowling?"

"Oh, she was wiping the floor with me. No contest."

"Honestly, that sounds absolutely accurate."

"Shut up, bowling just wasn't my sport. Regardless, the point was that I'm giving you a free pass to come and get me. Because I know you, I know how you think." Rick brings up his hand to tap his finger against Five's forehead, "You get it into your head that you need to go it alone, take it all on your shoulders. I'm telling you that if you do that I'll somehow manifest my memories and come smack you over the head for being stupid, you hear?"

"I'm not dragging you into anything." Five says firmly, "I'll have my siblings."

"Who were also children." Rick points out. "And dragging? Dragging is such a strong word for a volunteer."

"A volunteer who won't remember volunteering." Five shoots back.

Rick just shrugs, and then winces when the movement jolts his bad leg. "Five, I'm going to be honest with you here. And sappy. Can you handle a bit of sappiness for a minute?"

"No."

"Well too bad. Can't leave a dying man, you'd feel too bad. So you're stuck with me. But you listen good, okay? Because you aren't dragging me into anything. Whatever life you have, I want to have a part of that. Because you're my son. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I want to help because you're family. What you'd be doing by leaving me out of it is depriving me of someone I love, depriving me of knowing one of the best kids I've ever known."

"Shut up." Five says, choked.

"Nope, it's sappy time." Rick states, "Maybe asking you to come find me is selfish, but I don't care. No matter what version of me exists, I want to be in your life."

"My life is a walking joke, why would you want any part of that?"

"It has been my privilege to watch you grow up. To help you. To be here for you. Of course I'd want to be there to watch you grow up the rest of the way."

"But -"

"Shut up, just let me tell you that I am so proud of you. You never give up, and your heart is so big. You love so much and so loudly, and it's been the highest honor of my life to be included in your family."

Five pauses for a moment to collect himself before simply saying - "You're the best dad I've ever had."

Rick snorts, "Considering my competition, I'd sure hope so. That bar was so low old Reggie was practically limbo dancing with the devil. Now get over here and give an old man a hug."

They don't bury Rick, when he dies. They don't have time and the ground is too hard and they don't have the heart to move him. Instead the pack everything up and seal him in the shelter they'd lived in.

Dolores pulls out a bottle of ancient nail polish and painstakingly writes Rick's name on the wall with his birth year and an approximate current year. They aren't 100% sure though, since time blends together out in the apocalypse, but it's something.

They continue by themselves. They get older.

Dolores jokingly calls him her husband because the way his face scrunches up makes her cackle. They see other people very occasionally, usually passing through. Usually groups. Dolores and Five get to flex their hosting skills, though more than one group declines their cockroach stirfry.

("It's a family recipe." Five says with amusement in his eyes that usually manages to drown out old grief.)

"Jeeze, that kid couldn't have been older'n twenty-three." Dolores complains, "Makes me feels positively ancient."

"They wouldn't have known any world 'cept for the apocalypse." Five muses, pouring some boiled water into wine glasses because they might be living in the apocalypse but they can be fancy.

"Do you ever think about that?" Dolores asks, turning to him with no judgement, just curiosity. "When you go back, you'll be like, erasing them from existence."

Five shrugs, "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this place will just split off into an alternate timeline."

"Maybe none of this is real." Dolores says, amusement coloring her voice. "Maybe you aren't talking to a real person at all. Maybe this is just a symbol of your insanity and cracked mind."

"Dolores, I literally have a scar where you stabbed me. Did I somehow manage to stab myself in the back?"

"Scraped you, I scraped you. By accident."

"So you maintain." Five says haughtily, swirling his water in his wine glass like a pretentious prick.

"I could totally be fake. You don't know my life."

"I know way too much about you, Dolores. Like, way way too much." Five scoffs, because Dolores and him have literally no secrets from one another at this point. Five even knows the truth behind what happened at Janet Scranton's thirteenth birthday party. Like, he said, way too much.

"Maybe you made it up. Maybe that's why you know so much."

"Dolores, I'm going to be honest with you right now." Five presses the tips of his fingers to his chin, "If you were a figment of my imagination, you would be so much better at math."

"Hey!" Dolores squawks indignantly, "I didn't even get to finish high school you pretentious prick!"

"Neither did I!"

"You didn't even go to high school, you brat."

"I'm fifty-two I think I've outgrown 'brat.'"

"Tell that to your attitude." Dolores says haughtily, "You're still younger than me."

"Won't be when I go back in time." Five says cheerfully, completely ignoring Dolores's venomous look.

"That's cheating."

"Sucks to suck." Five says loftily, taking another sip of his water.

Sometimes they talk about The Plan, with capital letters. What Five is going to do when he goes back in time, depending on when he pops out. Is he going to adopt his siblings? What about Reginald?

"You don't think I could kill Reginald?" Five says, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"I think you should let me do it. I'll even give you control of tonight's music if you do."

"What are you doing to do? Bite his ankles? What if you're like, seven or something?"

"All the better to get away with it since I'll be too young to convict or whatever."

"Pretty sure that's not how the law works."

"How would you know? Just for that I'm playing Istanbul on repeat again."

"I don't know why you think that's a threat. That song slaps."

It takes a few more years before Five is close enough that the Commission comes to interfere. Because that's what I think happened - Five was getting too close and they stepped in because they might as well distract the man as much as they can with missions, right?

So the Handler shows up. And she offers Five a job, telling him that they have the ability to travel through time. And Five - hesitates.

"Give me some time?" Five asks, and the Handler graciously gives him 24 hours.

And he and Dolores talk it over, because now that his goal is more in sight than it has ever been and Five is scared.

"What are you waiting for? You have the chance to see your siblings again." Dolores says patiently.

"Yeah," Five says, and what he doesn't say is clear. But I won't see you.

"Five." Dolores says, and she cradles his face between her palms like he is something precious, "I have had so much time with you already. More than I would have ever. We have been so lucky, to have this time. How can I demand more than what we have already been given?"

"When have you ever not demanded the world, Dolores?" Five asks, his own hand coming up to cover Dolores's own.

"We've had decades together, Five. We're getting old. I was always going to lose you, one way or another. Nothing lasts forever."

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know. But if I had to choose a way, if I could decide where our story ends, this would be it. Letting you go, because this way you get to live. You get to see your family again. You get to save the world. I could ask for nothing more than for you to get your happy ending."

Five removes Dolores's hand from his cheek so that he can cradle it between them, "I'm happy here with you. I've never been happier. Isn't that silly? That I was happier in the apocalypse?"

"I bet killing Reggie would make you happy." Dolores laughs rustily.

"One day you're going to see the mysterious disappearance of a famous billionaire in the paper and feel a twinge of satisfaction and now have a clue why." Five laughs as well, shaking his head.

Dolores pats Five's hands, "Five, look at me. We've had our time. And you're going to give me even more of it. More time with my father. More time with my mother. I'll never know it, but you'll have saved me."

"What if this is - what if this is an alternate reality? What if I leave you here alone?"

"Then you'll be saving a 15-year-old girl from the same fate as me. Because as much as I love you, as much as I have loved this time we have had together, this is still an apocalypse. This should never have happened, and if you have a chance to go back and prevent it, then I want you to take that chance with both hands."

"Even if it means leaving you alone?"

Dolores smiles at him, "I'm not going to be alone. Far too many creepy crawlies in the apocalypse for that."

"Shut up, I'm being serious."

"Hmm." Dolores hums consideringly, "Maybe I'll head North, to that new settlement that last group said they'd heard word of. Sure they'd find some use for an old woman who's survived this long in the wilderness."

"You can have my half of the record collection." Five says, pulling her against him into a hug that she easily returns.

"As if I wouldn't have stolen them as soon as you left." She scoffs, but it's a little wet, and Five pretends his own eyes aren't leaking tears.

When The Handler comes back, Dolores gives him another hug. She also slips something into his pocket - some photos. They'd taken it a year into the apocalypse, when Dolores had found an ancient looking polaroid camera and towed it home despite Five's protests about practicality. The photos are worn and faded at the edges, but the smiles on Five's little apocalypse family's faces are undeniable.

"You'll have to see if they magically fade when you change the timeline." Dolores whispers to him with a grin, "Like in the movies."

"Okay." Five whispers back.

"You have the list of movies to watch, right?" Dolores says. Five rolls his eyes and nods because he wrote the list last night into his Vanya-book while Dolores hovered over his shoulder and critiqued his handwriting.

"And you promise to try a proper non-expired twinkie at some point?"

"That I do not promise. I think even looking at one would make me lose my lunch. I have twinkie-trauma."

"Shut up and get going." Dolores says, because the Handler is starting to tap her foot impatiently.

And off Five goes to become an assassin. Though - he's much more gentle this time. He's careful, he doesn't kill children and he usually takes jobs that don't require killing at all. He distracts and manipulates events as much as he can without killing.

He's actually much more well socialized, thanks to Rick and Dolores. Less feral child and more determined man on a mission.

Which is why he's so frustrated when he finally, finally manages to get the equations to work and falls through and falls - directly back into his stupid thirteen-year-old body.

"Shit." Five says, loudly, and revels in the surprised look on his siblings faces.

He strides into the kitchen, and they all follow him like ducklings. They look exactly the way they did when they died.

"Wow this is actually way harder than I thought it would be." Five muses, looking at their dead faces. But as Dolores would say, life is hard but you have to keep on trucking sometimes. "Whatever, what's the date?"

"Five, where have you been?" Diego demands, looking irritated. It makes Five snort in amusement.

"The future. The past. If you want like, an exact list of dates you'll have to hold your horses. I spent like, two weeks in Peru once. No souvenirs though, unfortunately."

They look taken aback, like they didn't expect Five to have quite this much sass. Oops. That is definitely Dolores's influence. Or maybe he was always a little asshole. In fairness, what teenagers aren't tiny assholes? He has an excuse.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Diego's eyebrows are furrowed in anger. It kind of takes Five aback for a second, because he remembers a Diego who stutters when he argued.

"When did you learn the fuck-word?" Five asks, raising an eyebrow before her can help it, "Grace ought to wash your mouth out with soap."

Diego immediately goes red, "Shut up!"

"Wow you're so easy to rile up. Aren't you like, twenty-something? Actually, I could figure out for myself how old you are if you gave me the date."

"I'm twenty-nine." Diego growls, like that was the point.

"Haunting!" Five says cheerfully, because that means there is way less time than he would like, narrowing his time down to a six month window.

It's extremely funny how his cheer makes all of them make faces.

It's Klaus who leans forward, "Why do you need to know?"

Klaus's face is open and curious and - (looks exactly like he did when Five found him all those years ago) - and Five can't help but answer him. "The world end on April 1st, 2019. No it isn't an April Fools joke, yes I have heard that joke like a million different times. I just want to know how close I landed so I can, you know, start working on how to fix that."

"Woah woah woah, roll it back." Allison says, holding a hand up, "What?"

"The apocalypse occurs on April 1st, 2019." Five says, slowly. "I have traveled from afar to prevent this from happening, because like, everyone dies."

"Everyone?" Vanya says weakly from the side.

She's clearly expecting to be ignored, so Five turns his head to address her directly by wiggling his hand back and forth a little. "Sort of. Like, not too many people survive at all. A handful of the human population, you know."

"But you survived?" Diego recovers admirably, if bitingly.

"Well, no." Five says rolling his eyes, "Wouldn't you just know it, Klaus here has managed to figure out a new ability!"

Everyone turns to look at Klaus, who immediately holds up his hands like he's being arrested or something, "I did not!"

"Wonderful! Now that we've established that I'm alive -"

"Why should we trust a word you say?" Luther says for the first time, looking pensive.

Five blinks, genuinely taken aback. "Because... I'm your brother? Because I can clearly and obviously time travel? Like, yeah, it would have been more convenient if I'd arrived in like, my old-body for proof-purposes, but like. I mean. Thirteen is still a pretty convincing age to be to prove time travel considering if I hadn't, I would be like, almost thirty."

"Roll it back again." Allison says firmly, "What do you mean by 'old body'?"

"Great question!" Five says pointing at Allison and smiling. Everyone looks at him weird again, and Five takes a moment to wonder if they've ever experienced positive reinforcement. Knowing Reginald, probably not. "Wait! Is Reggie alive? Wait, no, answer that in a second. Uh. When I time traveled I fucked up my body I guess, I was like, old. White hair and wrinkles-type old from spending decades in the apocalypse. But I fucked up the calculations and got booted back to my thirteen-year-old body, I guess. How, I have no idea."

"What?" Vanya says, still equally weakly.

"You have no idea how fucked up time travel is." Five whispers conspiratorially to Vanya, loud enough for the whole table to hear, "There are so many ways to die. Or permanently tear a hold in space time. But like, with life as we know if ending soon-ish, I figured I couldn't possibly fuck it up worse than it already was, y'know? Speaking of, anyone have the date again?"

"Wait, what was that about dad?" Luther asks, very focused.

"Oh, you still call him dad? Big oof." Five says automatically, because apparently his verbal filter is shot to hell after living with Dolores. It does make Klaus bark out a too-loud laugh.

"What does that mean?" Luther asks aggressively.

"It means Reginald sucks and doesn't deserve the title of 'dad,' what did you think I meant?" Five asks, and now both Diego and Vanya and both cracking smiles, though Vanya is covering hers with a hand.

"Have some respect for the dead." Luther growls, standing up and looking very large and threatening.

Five sways back, craning his head up, "Woah there big buy, sit down before I injure my poor growing spine looking up at you. Jeeze, did Reggie force feed you steroids or something? I wouldn't put it past him but like, I just want to know he at least went over the side effects of the drug with you. Also like, thanks for narrowing it down. Also terrifying! Seriously though, exact date please because if I have less than 24 hours I am going to break down crying and that is a threat."

"I love this Five." Klaus says reverently.

"March 21st." Vanya offers, finally.

"Wow! Terrifying!" Five says, clapping his hands together, "Hate that. Ten days, huh? Well, who wants to get on board the save-the-world express?"

Klaus immediately flings his hand in the air, Five points at his brother appreciatively. "Yes, excellent! I'll take the volunteer in the lovely skirt as my first team member. Any other volunteers?"

"Danke!" Klaus simpers, grinning widely like this is the vest entertainment he's had in weeks.

"I'm not just going to stand here and listen to you badmouth dad and boss us around." Luther slams his hands on the table.

"Well not with that attitude." Five snarks.

Diego raises his hand, "I would like to join team fuck dad as well."

"We can certainly debate team names later." Five says, nodding wisely as Luther gives some sort of scandalized gasp.

"Honestly, I just want to see where this is going." Klaus confesses.

Five shrugs, because he doesn't really care about the reason. "Don't you want to prove me wrong them? Prove what a well-adjusted young man Reginald Hargreeves raised?"

"Shut up." Luther grinds out, looking a moment away from throwing a punch.

"If this is all true, I have to get home." Allison cuts in, looking concerned, "I have - I have a daughter."

"I mean, if you want to give Claire a world to live in then I'd stick around, but that's just me." Five shrugs.

"You know her name?" Allison asks, obviously taken aback.

Five is almost offended, "Uh, yeah. I have her photo as well. Y'all get on like, a bizarre number of gossip magazine covers did you know that?"

Allison manages to outdo herself in terms of being taken aback once more.

There's a beat of silence, and then Five turns, "Vanya? You in?"

"Me?" Vanya blinks, looking shocked. "What can I do?"

"Yeah, what can she do?" Diego asks, crossing his arms and suddenly looking grumpy.

It baffles Five, who scrunches his nose, "Uh, like, a lot? I assume? I mean. I'm going to be honest here, just looking at y'all right now is a lot. In more ways than one! Hashtag trauma and all that, but like, name a single one of you that wouldn't be the most obvious person in the room as soon as you walked into it. Except Vanya, who somehow manages to look like a well adjusted adult, by some miracle."

"Did you just verbally say the word hashtag?" Allison asks, looking so deeply confused.

"More concerned about the trauma he tacked onto there, but y'know, to each their own." Klaus immediately cuts in.

"You think I'm well-adjusted?" Vanya asks, looking oddly touched.

"I would like to direct your attention to Diego's leather pants-scowl combo and Luther's general aura of daddy-issues." Five says pointedly, "I can practically smell the tragic comic book backstory in this room. If I'd jumped back a decade earlier this would have been Batman's wet dream of orphan selection."

"Alright! Game plan!" Five says, waving Diego's knife in his hand.

Diego's hands immediately go to his weird harness looking thing, "Hey!"

"Give me just one moment to get the tracker out." Five rolls his eyes, "Then I'll give it back, I promise. Also if someone could ask Grace for like, some antibiotics that would be good."

"What?" Allison asks, directly before Five stabs himself and there is suddenly panic at the table.

"Relax!" Five says, allowing Diego to remove the knife from his hands. He doesn't need it anyway and his hand immediately drops down to root in the wound.

"Five what the fuck!" Diego yells, but Five just pulls up bloody fingers and waves the tracker into Diego's stupefied face.

"What the fuck is that, Five?" Allison demands, looking very shaken.

"I literally just said it was a tracker." Five points out, "Now, I think our first team activity should be voting on whether we destroy it or take it out to bumfuck nowhere and ditch it to confuse the Commission."

"What the fuck is the Commission?" Diego barks.

"Man. Maybe I should just hit up Rick." Five muses, "This is going to take so much explaining."

"Who is Rick."

"So much explaining."

[americxn]

Confession (Colin x Fem!Reader)

a/n - I don’t know if Colin is only involved in missing person/murder cases but I decided to go arson instead because murder seemed way too serious for this scenario. Also, I’m not a lawyer, I have no clue what I’m talking about but we move

wordcount: 2.7k warnings: NSFW, kinda dom Colin (putting this as a warning bc I know some of you don’t like that), fingering, mentions of arson

Colin’s eyes were dark and unwavering as he pinned them on you, his thumbs tucked into the waistband of his work pants as he lounged against the back of his chair, his eyebrows slightly cocked and mouth a thin line. A portrait of increasing irritation. Your own head cocked slightly, waiting for him to repeat his question for the twentieth time in an hour. Sighing, he pulled his hands away from his waist, shifting to straighten on his chair as he leant forwards, levelling an utterly unamused look at you. His patience was wearing thin. Good. A small smile curved the corners of your mouth upwards as your chin raised slightly, Colin’s eyes flashing in agitation at your increasingly insufferable attitude. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time: where were you on the night of October 10th?” “At home.” You responded easily, the same answer you had given him with each reiteration of the question. 

His jaw clenched at your unrelenting impassivity, the muscles within feathering. He braced his elbows on the surface of the cold metal table between you, leaning forwards, his eyes never once leaving yours. You bit back your amusement, leaning in slightly to meet him in mocking interest, your arrogance spilling onto the metal before you, pooling about the detective’s elbows, dripping from the table onto the concrete floor.  “Let me repeat this once more,” he began, his tone dropping and becoming somewhat condensing, as if you were a child incapable of grasping the concept of the situation. “Several witnesses came forward and gave both your name and general description on the night of 10th, only several minutes after officials suspect that the fire was started.” Your amusement was momentarily doused as the image of the fire that you had ignited flashed, the memory of the pure ecstasy and sense of completion that had filled you the second you dropped the match onto the gasoline-coated floor of the large, abandoned building. Pulling your attention back to the man before you, you merely shrugged, leaning back in your chair and bringing a hand up to your face, examining your carefully manicured nails. “It was dark, detective. They could’ve seen anyone. As I’ve already explained multiple times, I was at home, not fucking around setting buildings on fire.” The lies came too easily to you. Colin seemed to be thinking the same thing as he tipped his head back to the brightly illuminated ceiling and let out a truly exasperated sigh. You quietly scoffed, folding your hands together in your lap and gazing at him with feigned innocence, allowing a patient demeanor to slip over you.  “You’re enjoying this far too much. This is serious, y/n.” He gritted out as he lowered his eyes back to yours. The small smile of indifference painted on your face as he surveyed you once more served as your second act of arson, fuelling his growing anger. He knew it was you. You knew he knew. Your smile only grew. “I know that you’re guilty.” He threw the words across the table at you, his voice low. “If you’re so confident that it was me, why am I even here?” You pressed offhandedly, the front legs of your chair lifting off the floor as you pushed back on it. “Because I need a verbal confession.” Colin stated firmly. “And you’re going to give me one.” You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled out of you at his overly confident words, your eyes alight with flickering amusement. His own eyes flashed in warning. “Of course you are. And how, exactly, do you plan on getting one from me?” You challenged, your chair falling fulling back to the floor with a dull thud. Colin’s eyes flicked down to the surface of the table, as if watching through the thick metal as you placed your feet back on the ground. His own feet shifted beneath the table, his eyes lifting back to yours as his foot appeared on the edge of your chair between your slightly parted legs. You stiffened in confused alarm but kept your eyes trained on his as he slowly pressed his foot into your pussy, the pointed tip of his leather shoe spearing onto your clothed clit, too-sensitive even through the protection of your clothes. A gasp ripped free from your throat at the sudden pressure, any amusement having fled from your features, now displayed proudly on Colin’s instead. “What’re you-” the tip of his shoe twitched harshly against your covered core, the rest of your words dissipating into the suddenly tension-filled space between you. “Talk me through your evening on the 10th.” He ordered, his eyes falling wholly dark as he tracked the movement of your lower lip catching between your teeth. Your hands fell onto the arms of the chair you sat in, clenching tightly onto the cold metal as a spontaneous inner conflict took place within you. Push him off or see where this goes. This ‘interrogation’ had gone on for far too long, you were beginning to get bored. And so, you settled further into your chair, pressing yourself slightly further onto the tip of his shoe, an almost inaudible groan working its way out of you at the increased pressure. “I’ve told you. I was at home.” He retracted his shoe ever so slightly before pressing it against you once more with even more persistence. When he didn’t reply, his jaw working in annoyance, you sighed softly, not allowing any anxiety to worm its way into you as he put you on the spot, creating a vague alibi in a matter of seconds. You knew that stalling for a moment too long would only raise his suspicions. “I came home from work at around five. I drove.” You added, reluctant to leave any room for further questioning, not as his shoe began to make small strokes up and down on your clothed cunt, dulling your vital concentration.  Your integrity lapsed at his increasing attention on your core, your legs parting more of their own accord.  “I, um, I showered for like fifteen minutes and then I went to make food.” The lie was weak; Colin’s mouth twitched, as if a smirk strained to formed on his thin lips. “You don’t live alone, do you?”  You swallowed but shook your head. “No. My roommates weren’t home.” “Oh?” He uttered, urging you to present him with an explanation. You bit down on the inside of your cheek as he pressed the tip of his shoe against you even harder.  “They stayed at the college library to study.” Your tone wavered, your eyes flicking down to your shamelessly parted legs. “Unfortunately, I spoke to two of your roommates earlier.” At his cruel contradiction, your eyes fluttered closed in defeat. “They were all home by four that night.” His chair creaked as he leant forwards, your eyes flying open with a low groan as his foot was forced further against you. “What’s even more interesting, is that they didn’t see you at all that night.” “What’s the point of this?” You muttered, lifting your gaze to his. “Why ask if you know I’m lying to you?” “Because I need to hear you confess.” He answered simply, pushing back his chair and standing. Your hips rocked forwards slightly on your seat, trying to subconsciously chase after his foot as he stood. Watching closely as he slowly made his way around the table, small ribbons of nervousness finally began to unfurl within your gut, your unease growing as he reached you, coming to a halt beside the chair that you sunk further into beneath his scrutiny.  The hand that he snaked onto your shoulder was a warm weight and you took a steadying breath as his other fell onto your side, Colin taking a step behind your chair. Looking straight ahead, you didn’t dare shift so much as an inch as his hand slid from your shoulder to the crook of your neck, his fingers settling onto your skin. You resisted the urge to cross your legs, waiting for Colin’s next words, the hand at your side beginning to run softly up and down the length between your ribs and your hip. Your breathing hitched as he stooped down, his own breath hot on the side of your neck. "What would happen if I was guilty? If I did confess?” You chose the words carefully but your true intentions behind the cautious question was explicit: What happened when you confessed? “Either I use the evidence I have against you in court and accuse you of being guilty. Or, you confess, and get a lesser sentence. Since no one was harmed and there were no malicious intentions, right now with no confession, you’re looking at a heavy fine and restitution.” Whilst he spoke lowly in your ear, his hand made a slow trail from your side to your abdomen and any information that he was providing you evaded your attention as all of your focus trained itself upon the hand that Colin was sliding lower and lower down your body. He drew swirling patterns across your stomach with the tips of his fingers, dipping tantalisingly past your belly button before straying back up your torso once more. Your eyes dropped to watch the smooth movements of his fingertips. A small part of your conscious scolded yourself for how wrong this was but the other, larger part sung with nervous excitement, willing his hand to fall even lower. You were going to have to give him a confession at some point or another. He already knew you were guilty, what would be the harm in getting some fulfilment from it?  “But it’s ultimately not up to me. Just know that a confession will lighten the consequences.” You merely nodded, your eyes never straying from the hand that leisurely explored the stretch of your stomach, Colin’s body a warm presence behind you, his hands roving closer and closer to where you ached for him, the sweet scent of your arousal filling the room. His lithe fingers made quick work of the buttons holding your pants together, your head falling back against his chest as he pressed his body further against the back of your chair. He hummed lowly in approval as his fingers finally delved between your folds, gathering the wetness at your entrance and smearing it up to your clit. His fingers made tight, messy circles atop it as he spoke lowly in your ear: “Let’s try one last time. Where were you on the night of October 10th?” You took a sharp breath, Colin’s fingers straying from your sweet bundle of nerves to your opening, poised amongst the wetness gathered there as he awaited your answer. “At home.” You whispered weakly, trying to lift your hips in an effort of bribing the finger that languidly circled your entrance. His fingers stopped moving entirely, drawing away from your cunt and simply resting in your pants. You groaned at his blatant denial. “Okay. I left work early, around three, and went home to change -”  He plunged a single finger deep into you, coaxing a low groan from your throat. You turned your face into the warmth of his chest as he twisted that single finger inside of you, trying to organise your thoughts and remember your actions of that evening as he began to move his finger in and out. “I was only home for about half an hour.” You whispered into the awaiting silence of the room as he slowly eased a second finger into your cunt, starting to pump them in a steady rhythm, the tips of his fingers curling to hit the spot within you that seemed to send shock waves throughout your entire body with each stroke of his rough fingertips against it, coaxing more information from you, using your own pleasure as a bribe. "I drove to the property. There was no one there when I arrived so I waited.” You continued, voice accented with whiny need, the expert curling of Colin’s fingers within you as you opened up to him sending more wetness gathering around his long digits, a pleasant warm sensation spreading throughout your stomach. “Why?” His voice was low in your ear and your eyes fluttered closed as his ministrations caused more pleasure to grow within your gut. You let out a quiet moan as he inserted a third finger into you at your silence, wasting no time in establishing a steady fast pace, Colin fervent to pull the confession from you. “Oh, shit.” You moaned out as his fingers thrusted relentlessly inside of you, seeming to reach deeper than you even thought was possible, his desperation to draw the condemning evidence from you apparent. “Why?” He repeated, your confidence faltering as you realised that you had given him enough information and that now all he needed to hear was your reasoning to why.  “Why, y/n?” A drawn out groan floated from your parted lips, tugging your answer out behind it. “I was bored. I wanted people to see, I wanted them to talk about it.” The heat within the pit of your stomach was fuelled with each stroke of his fingers and soon your legs were trembling and your toes were curling. The small triumphant smile displayed upon Colin’s face was evident in his tone as he asked you one final question, whispered lowly into your ear: “So you burnt the building down?”   Lifting your hips up slightly, you gripped onto the arm snaked around you body with both hands, trying to urge his fingers to go harder, deeper as your pleasure built and built, each thrust of his fingers ripping away a layer of the ball of ecstasy glowing in your gut, the orgasm hidden at its centre your only goal. “Y/n.” Colin prompted quietly, your poorly suppressed groan almost drowning his voice out completely as your pleasure mounted, building quickly towards release. The groan turned from one of satisfaction to one of dismay as Colin suddenly withdrew his fingers from you entirely, your hips bucking up pathetically as he rested his hand within your pants. His message was clear: no confession, no orgasm. “Yes!” You squeaked, your fingers tightening their grip on his arm, willing his fingers to resume their skilful exploration of your cunt. “Yes. I burnt the building down.”  Colin plunged his fingers back into your awaiting entrance, victorious as you shrieked in alarm and pleasure, his digits filled you suddenly once more. “Cum, y/n.” Colin encouraged lowly when he felt you clenching around him and he leant down further, his teeth latching onto the soft shell of your ear and biting down sharply. The slight pain pushed you over the edge and you came undone in his arms, your back arching off the back of the chair, your head pressing further against the hard planes of his chest, your head lolling to the side as you came, the unfamiliar scent of the man filling your nose, serving as a reminder of who was granting you your blissful gratification. Colin’s tongue traced over the small hurt that he had inflicted with his teeth, his fingers stilling their relentless thrusting to move within you instead, curling at the perfect angle and coaxing every last drop of cum from you before pulling out entirely. Your thighs jerked and trembled, closing around his hand as you came down from your high with a gasp, regaining control of your body once more, your back collapsing back against the chair.  Withdrawing his hand from your pants, he stepped away from you, your laboured breaths filling the small room, your wetness glistening on Colin’s fingers beneath the harsh lighting as he pulled away, walking slowly back around the table and dropping into his own chair. Your swallow was audible as he pulled his papers closer to him, taking up a pen and beginning to scribble messily formed words onto the blank sheet. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, triumph glistening there. “You can go now.” He dismissed, his attention settling back on the paper he filled out. “Go sit back in the waiting room, I’ll send someone to talk you through what happens next.” You rose from your seat in silence, your wetness smearing onto your upper thighs as you moved, your legs weak. With one final glance at the detective, you turned on your heel, trying to gather back some of your dignity as you left the room, Colin’s focus remaining fixed to the paper before him as the door closed behind you. 

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt

[bcdwhcre]

“Cold Weather,” Pt 2 Levi x Reader

using this gif again bc oof and I’m also running out of Levi gifs to use

Summary: modern day Levi. After getting stuck in a blizzard and taking shelter in a cabin with no heat, skin to skin isn’t the only thing you two would be using to get warm

Warnings: fingering, dirty talk, choking, smut period. any who

PART ONE

.

.

.

“I know what else we can do to get warm.”

“Levi,” Your eyes were glued on his, the smirk on his face only growing the more your face started to get red.

You would admit that there is a lot of sexual tension there but you weren’t too sure if it was only because you two were forced to cuddle half naked for warmth or if Levi had caught on to your feelings that you had for him.

Either way you didn’t want to protest or act as if you didn’t want to do anything with him. The way his eyes had burned through your body made your skin hot and made you want more of his touch on your body.

Levi’s fingers had traced over your bare skin, sliding down to slip the strap of your bra off your shoulder and a lump started to form in your throat as his eyes stayed on yours, never once looking away and you didn’t dare break the eye contact no matter how nervous you started to get.

He was swift when reaching around your back and unclipping your bra with no issue, feeling it drop and he slipped it off your arms and tossed it behind him in a blink of an eye. He wanted to take his time, with you at least. The feelings he had for you were more than enough to give him the boost of confidence to do the things he’s been wanting to do.

In an instant, his lips were back on yours and his body had moved over to hover over yours as he forced his tongue inside of your mouth, exploring the new space and taking over the dominance quite quickly but only because you didn’t bother, the amount of butterflies you felt roaming inside your stomach as your body ached for him more as each second passes by- you let him do whatever he wanted to do.

His chest pressed down on yours, one hand flat on the floor to hold himself up above you while his free hand had wrapped around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze and suddenly his mouth was off of yours and peppering kisses along your jawline, his hair hanging down and tickling your skin.

The air around you was thick, between his kisses and the tension in the air- you were practically choking. You were frozen, your arms and legs numb and not just from the freezing cold weather that surrounded the cabin and outside of it- but Levi’s sudden actions, it had you complete stunned to the point where you couldn’t move.

The thought of this had ran through your head multiple times in the past but you were never brave enough to cross the line of ruining a friendship you admired so much. He’s your best friend, the only person you can truly count on and secretly- the both of you would dream of this moment and now that’s it’s happening, you’re stuck in place.

He had noticed your stale movements while kissing your neck and collarbone, his eyes flickering up towards you as he held his body up above yours, the worried look on his face like he had did something wrong, thinking this isn’t what you wanted.

“We don’t have to..” He started to say, not really knowing the right words to say. It grew awkward and you snapped out of your endless thoughts to meet his gaze.

Suddenly you felt stupid, you were too caught up in your own head and was too scared to embrace your feelings for him that you made him feel embarrassed for even thinking something like this would work.

“Levi, you’re the only person I’ve wanted to do this with.” You tried to assure him, leaning up and smashing your lips onto his.

Your small hands had trailed down his bare chest and suddenly he had gain somewhat of his confidence back, grabbing a hold of your hands and pinned them down against the floor, your fingers intertwining with his and his hips had firmly pressed against yours.

The swarm of butterflies and sparks that you felt made you want to freeze up again. You were never the type to be this bold, especially towards someone you’ve been in love with for years. You still had that mindset where you would be rejected by him even though his lips were molded into yours.

You tried to shove that anxiety out of your mind, feeling his hips roll into yours making a random moan fall from your lips and onto his. It was getting more than hot in this empty cabin, the feeling of his hard length pressed against you along with the only two fabrics of clothing you both wore- it was making your breath uneven and your kiss sloppy.

Levi had pulled back first, breathless and his eyes had stared down into yours, a small smile appearing on his lips and he had let go of one of your hands to cup your cheek, stroking it then grabbed onto your chin.

“You know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He mumbled, moving his fingers down your body and swiftly slipped your underwear down your legs, making your heart pound.

You shook your head, keeping your eyes on his while his fingertips tickled your inner thighs as he teasingly ran them up your leg, spreading them apart with his knee and unexpectedly rubbed just one finger through your folds, making you shudder under his touch.

“Every time I look at you, all I can think about is you underneath me...” He used two fingers to rub through your folds, a soft gasp leaving your lips.

“All the times I’ve thought about you late at night, taking all of me, moaning my name, making a mess all over my sheets..” His words had you already throbbing and he barely even touched you, his fingers teasing you.

“You drive me crazy without even trying.” His other hand grabbed onto your throat, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and a smirk appeared on his face.

Suddenly he had his fingers at your entrance, just barely hovering over it and he could tell how impatient you were just by the way your hips were trying to grind against his fingers, you were already a mess underneath him and he hasn’t even began to start pleasing you the way he wanted to.

Levi tilted his head, leaning down to pepper a kiss on your jawline and leaned down towards your ear as your hands made their way around his back, nails already clawing at his skin and he let out a soft breath.

“Tch, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already a mess.” He taunted, a chuckle falling from his lips and it made you want to roll the both of you over and slap that smirk off his face- he was being too cocky, knowing how badly you wanted him.

“You’re being too cocky.” You scoffed under your breath, almost rolling your eyes and he raised his eyebrows in amusement as he stared down at you.

“I think I’m allowed to be.”

You hummed, a smile coming across your lips until he abruptly slipped both of his fingers inside of you, your mouth instantly parting open and another gasp slipped out.

The smirk on his face was evident, enjoying himself a little too much as he moved his fingers at a even pace, twisting them and using his free hand to rest beside your head to hold himself up.

He wanted to watch your facial expressions, wanting it to feed his ego, wanting to see just how much he can pleasure you, how good he can pleasure you. He was one cocky asshole but you couldn’t deny the fact he knew how to make you feel good.

Your back almost arched off the floor, wanting to move your hips up into his hand but he was quick to press your hips down with his free hand, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he tilted his head up at you.

“Do that again and I’ll have no choice but to stop and leave you here soaking wet.” He teased, the tip of his tongue sticking out and licking over his dry lips.

You wanted to protest, fight back or shoot him a dirty look but the way he looked right now, the way he was being so dominant with you- it was really turning you on and you wanted it to continue for the rest of the night.

But you still wanted to slap that cocky smirk off his face but it was worth the feeling of his fingers knuckles deep inside of you, making you clench around them and throw your head back against the blankets.

“Good girl.” He purred, sitting himself up on his knees and looked down at his fingers, watching himself finger fuck you.

He couldn’t resist, he wanted to pull his fingers out and fuck you into oblivion but he had to restrain himself, he wanted to enjoy this, enjoy you and the way your beautiful body laid out in front of him like this- the only light making your skin glow was the fire from the fireplace.

He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, he was in awe of you and the position you were in. Your head back, your eyes closed and the effortless moans falling from yours lips was like music to his ears. He was so fascinated with you, so intrigued, so in love.

Levi’s mouth was practically drooling at the sight that he almost forgot he was thrusting his fingers inside of you until your moans had grown louder, knowing how close he was edging you to your orgasm.

He thought about it, should he let you cum around his fingers? He did want a good taste of you, he wanted to watch your face mix with pleasure as your legs tremble beneath him.

Gosh, he was thinking too much about you that he was close to almost cumming in his boxers. He shook his head at the thoughts, his eyes fully trained back onto you as he continued slamming his fingers inside your tight hole, using his other hand to rub circular motions on your clit.

“Levi.. I’m gonna,” You practically whined out, making his eyes shoot up to yours and he groaned under his breath.

“Cum on my fingers.” He praised you on, mumbling soft words like how you were beautiful to him.

He had watched your face scrunch up, the orgasm washing over you like a fresh shower, making your legs slightly tremble and your breathing started to get heavier. He licked his lips at the sight of you, he was hungry for you in ways he couldn’t even explain.

He was quick to take his fingers out once you were done and licked the cum off of them, humming at the taste of you. He was enjoying himself too much but he made sure you were enjoying the moment more.

Your cheeks were flushed as you tried to catch your breath, your eyes connecting with his hungry ones and he moved his fingers down to rub your sensitive core, making your legs close tightly but he forced them open.

“I’m not done with you yet, brat.” The nickname easily dripped off his tongue and it had made another throbbing sensation hit you.

He was quick to reach his hands down to his boxers, finally taking them off and freeing his length that was more than desperate to be let out. Your eyes couldn’t help but glance over his entire bare body as he was above you, your eyes trailing down and lump had formed in your throat.

The butterflies you felt was unexplainable. You couldn’t believe just how perfect he looked naked, it made you almost choke on the air around you.

His hand grabbing your chin made you snap out of your thoughts, your big eyes looking up at his and he softly pressed his lips on yours, the kiss was slow but your lips were still swollen from the rough makeout session you had moments ago before he had his fingers deep inside of you.

He was craving your touch so desperately, he was clingy and was more than horny but he wanted this kiss to be a lot more meaningful because he still loved you deeply.

He pulled back, his face hovering over yours while his nose brushed up against your own nose. He had given you a soft smile, his fingertips brushing over your soft skin and it made your heart swell.

Levi planted one more kiss on your lips, settling himself between your legs as he grabbed a firm hold of his length, teasingly rubbing his tip along your folds, his face still inches above yours before he slid himself in slowly but he didn’t hesitate to fill you up completely.

Your mouth parted open, another moan slipping off your tongue and he took the opportunity to spit inside of your mouth then molded your lips together in a heated kiss, mixing your tongues together.

All of this had sent you in a state of euphoria, almost seeing stars blur up your vision and your hips instantly moved up to meet his soft thrusts until he started to speed up his pace, pressing your body down into the floor.

He had kept his eyes on you, the sense of wanting to watch over your beautiful state and your expressions as he stimulated you. He was sure he would end up cumming just by the look of your face but he wanted this to be a lot more meaningful. He didn’t care about the sex, he wanted this to be about you.

He would do anything for you and he knew about the strong feelings you’ve had for him for well over a few years so that only pushed him to make you feel everything tonight. He could care less about orgasming, he could care less about pleasuring himself. He was so deeply in love with you that this, your first time with him, was something to remember.

“Fuck, go harder.” You barely managed to stumble out of your mouth, making his eyebrows furrow and stare down at you.

He had done what you said, his hips slamming into yours and the sounds of the fire cracking and both of your skins slapping together echoed through the empty cabin.

Your skin grew hot, your cheeks red and the intense pleasure you were feeling made your eyes water and your head ended up leaning back as your eyes fluttered shut, your nails clawing at his back, sure to leave scratches on his soft skin.

You could already feel yourself nearing your second orgasm, multiple profanities, whines and moans falling from your lips and when he felt your walls clench around him, he made sure to quicken his pace as much as he could, wanting to send you over the edge again.

“Are you going to cum for me a second time, brat?” He voice mumbled into your ear, his lips trailing sloppy kisses just below your ear and on your neck and you held onto his biceps tightly.

You slightly nodded your head, stuttering out a small ‘yes’ and he purposely sunk his teeth into your skin and it made you almost squeal, his large hand moving up to grab onto one of your breasts.

“Be a good girl and cum for daddy.” The dirty talking he was doing in your ear was working in his favor, it had made you wrap your legs around his torso, feeling him almost pull out of you completely just to thrust back into you roughly.

Your second orgasm had hit you like a train, your legs shaking uncontrollably and the way it had sent you in such a pleasured state, it made his orgasm hit him just about the same time.

Levi’s breathing was uneven, the sweat gathering up on his forehead made the small strands of hair to stick on his skin. He pulled out of you, sitting up on his knees as he looked over at your shaken state.

He had chuckled under his breath, placing a kiss on your forehead and stood up to go find a towel to clean you up. He wasn’t just going to leave you there sitting in a complete mess you both had made, he wasn’t that lazy.

When he returned, you had caught your breath and your eyes could barely stay open from how much he tired you out. You watched him clean you up with the towel, tossing it to the side when he was finished and got underneath the blankets, wrapping his arms around your naked body.

His lips peppered soft kisses on your face, pulling you into his chest and he sighed happily, brushing his fingers through your hair as you laid there almost half asleep, tangled up in his arms.

“I love you, you know.” You mumbled, tilting your head up to meet his gaze and he laughed a bit, nodding his head.

“Yes, I know.. I love you.”

.

.

.

Pls this is the longest Levi smut I’ve ever written. But I think it turned out so good wtffff

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

READ BIO BEFORE REQUESTING !!!!!

[nagitolovebug]

Oh no what happened when bebi and kamukoma got separated by ff? Also it would be amazing to read about the whole bebiverse if you ever did want to write a whole fic on it!!!

>:3 Izuru knew it was coming. How could he not? In the days approaching Bebi's first birthday, he has a decision to make- take his family and run, or let the FF take them and see what happens. Ultimately, he decides letting the FF take them would be the path of least resistance, less strenuous for everyone. So he does nothing. He watches his husband plan for Bebi's birthday party, pile of horrible, handmade plushes and blankets waiting for them. The day they turn one, their parents take them to the beach. Izuru didn't want agents rooting around and destroying their home. They watch Bebi toddle on the beach, smiling silently. They were always a quiet baby. They hadn't even cried when they were born. He sees the FF agents approaching on the horizon, far earlier than he had anticipated. He thought he'd have more time with them. He kisses Nagito like he's never gonna see him again, holds him close to feel his heartbeat. "Nagito. Whatever happens next, do not doubt that I love you." "Izuru..?" And then he holds Bebi's face and it hurts him looking at their eyes and how they stare at him like they know. "My precious child. You have irrevocably changed my life for the better. You are the most important thing in my life, and I love and cherish you deeply. If you remember anything of your father, remember these words, my dear Bebi. I love you, and always will." Izuru had been under the impression the agents coming for them were peaceful, not putting up a fight as they were surrounded. Nagito had no idea this was going to happen at all. "IZURU, TAKE BEBI AND RUN!" It's the first time Nagito has ever been in any way authoritative with Izuru, but Izuru knows this is the safest for everyone so he doesn't. Especially because he doesn't wanna separate his family. And Nagito's heart breaks when Izuru lets himself get shackled. Nagito is backing away desperately, holding Bebi bundled up so tight in his arms, pressed against his chest "Don't touch my baby- don't TOUCH MY BABY- STAY AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE, YOU CAN'T DO THIS! LET GO, LET GO- IZURU! IZURU, PLEASE, PLEASE, HELP SOMEBODY HELP ME, THEY'RE TAKING THEM, PLEASE DONT TAKE AWAY MY BABY, PLEASE-" Izuru twitches, hearing the screams, clenching his fists and his jaws, eyes stinging at hearing someone he loves beg so desperately and not being able to do anything about it. A god for the very first time feeling helpless. He's never felt more human. He wishes being human didn't mean being disgusting and ashamed and useless. Nagito manages to slip the ring he had received from Izuru around his neck onto his baby's neck (a keepsake in case they're never reunited) before his is tased in the back by an agent, crumpling to the ground immediately as someone grabs his baby, thrashing and kicking and screaming himself hoarse demanding the give his baby back, don't touch his baby, give them back. When Bebi is ripped from their father's arms, they begin to wail, horribly- sounds they had never made before wrenched out of them in fear and confusion. Izuru hadn't expected they'd use force. Watching his husband crumple to the ground makes him see red, incapacitating one of the agents detaining him and ready to kill the other. Until Makoto Naegi approaches him holding Bebi. There's blood on his jaw and he could kill Naegi faster than he could blink, but he wouldn't try anything- not when his baby was in danger. "Don't hurt my child. Don't touch my child. ....please. They haven't done anything." "My sins are mine alone. Free Nagito and Bebi. I'll comply without struggle." "I'm sorry, Izuru-kun, we can't do that." Izuru flinches. Nobody except Nagito called him that. Junko did once and he tore a clump of her ugly pigtail off her head. "Don't call me that. Free my husband and my child at once-" "We won't hurt you. I promise. The baby will be safe while you all receive treatment. I'm here to help you, not to punish you." "You tased Nagito-" He sighs. "I made them promise not to use force. Byak- Togami’s men are...not used to such delicate situations. I really am sorry. Komaeda-kun has been

through a lot, right? I dont wanna make his rehabilitation any harder by worsening his health." "If any harm comes to either of them-" "I will not let anything happen to Komaeda-kun or the child-" "Bebi." "Bebi, Kamukura-san. I swear on my life." "What is your pathetic life to the safety of my family? Pray that your life is all you lose if you break your promise. If there is a single scratch on either of them, I will make sure you and your loved ones suffer before I crush you under my heels. I swear on my life. And that's a promise that holds weight." He turns away. "Put us in the same room. I wish not to be separated." "....of course." The moment they're left alone together, Nagito slaps his husband across the face. He's incensed. He's grieving. He doesn't understand why his husband didn't save their baby. "Don't speak to me. Don't look at me. You let them take Bebi away. We're done." He isolates himself in a lone corner on the ship, back turned to Izuru, curling in on himself and sobbing. Izuru eventually goes over, wraps himself around Nagito, allows Nagito to thrash and weakly try to hit him before he turns around and bawls into Izuru's chest, Izuru rubbing his back and pressing a single kiss to the crown of his head. "...I'm sorry. I didn't want to put Bebi in danger. I'll get us out of here soon." By the time they are ready to be put under, Nagito has finally grown compliant and is entirely in a daze, Izuru coercing him to calmness with constant promises of their escape. On their way to the pods, he hears the softest, "Papa?" and goes berserk. “Bebi, please give me back my Bebi, I need to hold them.” He headbutts the person escorting him and they pass out (how lucky!) and dodges agents jumping for him and runs to Bebi. They're all reaching for their guns thinking he's gonna hurt the kid but he falls to his knees and just holds them, and he can't even do it properly bc his hands are shackled, but he touches them all he can to make sure they're alright and the sobbing is haunting. "Please don't take them again, I'll do anything you want, please don't take my baby, my baby, they're all I have- please, just an hour, fifteen minutes, just- just let me see they're ok, I need to see for myself that they're ok-!" And it's...the notorious, fearsome Servant....begging. It's incredible to see him reduced to that. Bebi's just got their chubby little arms around Nagito's neck and they're resting on his shoulder and it's the quietest and calmest they've seen Bebi since they were taken- they cry incessantly for the longest time, only stopping when they pass out. Nagito rocks them and pets their hair and frantically checks their ribs, their heart, making sure there’s no bruises. Izuru never got to say goodbye. He chooses not to go see Bebi when Nagito lashes out. Makoto turns to him but he just holds a shackled hand up. "It'll only make it harder." And he doesn't say for whom. Nagito kisses Bebi's face and their head and pets them and whispers, "I love you so much, more than anything in the world, please stay safe until I come back for you. Bebi, my darling baby, I will come back for you. I won't leave you. I'm so sorry." And then asks Makoto to jab him with the tranquilizer so he doesn't have to watch his baby get taken from him again. The last time Bebi sees their papa outside the pod is when his arms go limp around them and he's dragged away.

This impacts them all for years to come. The entire family gets a certain anxiety around Bebi's birthday, so much so that Bebi never wants to celebrate. Bebi (and Hajime, for that matter) has nightmares of their Papa screaming and terrible separation anxiety, latching onto the items they had with them during the program (Nagito's jacket and Nagito's ring)- if at any point they do not have those 2 items with them, it's likely they'll panic. Bebi didn't have their own room for the longest time because Nagito would wake in a panic and have to check and make sure they were still in the house, or insist they slept on the bed in between him and Hajime. Later on, if Nagito or Hajime are away on missions, or they are apart from the twins, they'll spiral into panics insisting that their being apart will result in someone's death. The trauma from being separated from their parents is hugely influential to how they interact with their family and their motivation for reviving the NWP...and starting another killing game.

[youngbloodlisk]

Kitten // Kim Younghoon

"Your dirty, slutty dream came true, babygirl."

- hard rough dom younghoon

- smut with no plot whatsoever

- thank you to my subconscious for giving me dreams about this

- and thank you 🌙 anon for giving me more and more ideas relating to this and coaxing me on with this whole scenario and getting me super needy and inspired to actually write this out. you're a real one

- "accidental" miniature voyeurism w jacob

- choking

- oral (fem rec)

- unprotected sex WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT

- filthy

- degradation

- fluff near the end if you turn your head and squint

- usually i leave the first line before the cut, but since this one jumps right in with the smut i don't think i'm gonna leave the first line lmao

- the title is rlly just bc this is the first time i've properly used the pet name "kitten" in my writing lol

He presses on my back, arching it further, before returning his hand to my hip.

Younghoon is slamming his body against mine at a rapid pace, hitting extremely deep every time. With my back arched more, he can now reach even further inside me.

Explicits roll off my tongue and I press my face into the sheets to muffle my sounds. My hands are grabbing and clawing at the sheets like my life depends on it.

My his sweatshirt is still on my body, but bunched up. The only part of me that isn't exposed is my chest, a bit of my back, and my arms. Meanwhile, he's still fully clothed, with his pants just low enough to have his cock out.

He actually likes to use the excuse that he's self-conscious, but I know full well that he isn't insecure at all around me or any of the guys anymore. I can also just tell when he's lying. I think he doesn't wanna admit that he finds it super hot to fuck me with as many clothes left on as possible. I'm not gonna complain though. It is pretty hot.

My vision is starting to get blurry, and my body almost feels numb to my mind. All I can think about is how good he's making me feel.

He's mostly silent, letting out a few low grunts and growls, unless he's talking to me.

He digs his fingers into me, clearly starting to lose himself in the feeling.

My body jolts with each thrust from him, but only slightly, thanks to his ever-tightening grip on my hips.

I stare at the door, which is wide open, as I have been almost the entire time Younghoon's been drilling into me like this.

I've been waiting and waiting for someone to walk by and see way more than they bargained for.

I'm sure they've been avoiding walking this way though, as the sounds have definitely given away what's taking place.

My whining, my muffled moaning and screaming, his grunting, and skin against skin...

So, I'm not sure why Jacob ends up walking by the door... or why he stands there and watches for a moment, frozen, locking into my tear-filled eyes.

I struggle as I try to prop myself up on my elbows, trying to at least be in a position that wasn't so humiliating.

Younghoon is quick to notice this, and notice why I'm doing it.

"Your dirty, slutty dream came true, babygirl. Someone caught you." He says in the most condescending way possible before going even harder and faster (which I didn't think was even possible).

My arms go entirely weak and my face falls back onto the mattress with an embarrassing, involuntary cry of pleasure.

Jacob quickly realizes he's been watching, and turns to leave, but not before accidentally letting his smirk show.

"Did you notice how hard he was getting, kitten? I bet he's going to his room to jerk off thinking about you getting ruined like this..." I clench around Younghoon at his words. "Oh, you like that, you slut?" His hands leave my hips, one of them wrapping around my stomach and the other wrapping around my neck. He tightens both grips and pulls my body up to be as far against his as possible without pulling out.

Younghoon's sweet, yet (in this context) demonic voice whispers in my ear.

"I hope you always remember that you're only mine to ruin." He emphasizes words with hard thrusts. "You know I'm the only one who can make you feel like this, don't you, kitten?"

All I can force out of my mouth is mumblings and whispered moaning, my brain entirely going haywire as his hold on my neck tightens again and he thrusts up into me.

My legs feel like gelatin.

"I've got you speechless, huh?" He lets go of me, let's my almost limp body fall back onto the mattress before grabbing my hips again, and drills into me.

He's truly showing no mercy.

"Tell me, kitten... do you think Jacob would fuck you like this?"

"N...No-" I barely squeeze out.

"Who fucks you like this, huh? Say his name."

"Y-Younghoon..." It comes out like a whisper.

He digs his fingers into me again, on purpose this time.

"Say it loud, you slut. Who?"

"Younghoon!" It would have taken all of my energy to scream his name the way I did, but it didn't. He started to rub circles on my clit while still pounding into me, causing me to scream his name naturally.

I can feel his ego rise by the second.

He gives me no warning, besides his thrusts becoming jerky and inconsistent, before he coats my insides with his cum.

He pulls out once he's done and I whine, being so close to my own release and suddenly having nothing.

My hand reaches down to touch myself, but he grabs my wrist and pushes my arm away. Younghoon flips me over and within seconds has his mouth attached to my pussy.

I swear that we're gonna get a noise complaint because my hand is doing a really shitty job at covering my screams and moans as Younghoon licks and sucks on me, pulling me closer and closer to the orgasm of a lifetime.

My toes are curled tight and my chest rises and falls intensely.

He's told me a million times when he's being this rough that I'm not allowed to touch any of him without permission, so no matter how badly I wanna tug on his hair, I resist.

One hand holds tightly to the sheet while the other one covers my mouth.

Younghoon glances up at me and grabs my hand, pulling it away from my mouth and holding me by the wrist.

He stops just long enough to say:

"Be loud, kitten. I love hearing your voice."

His lips wrap around my clit and he sucks hard, finally allowing my orgasm to wash over my exhausted body hard, and I moan his name loudly.

There's no way that a single person in the house isn't aware of what's just happened.

He licks between my folds to help me come down from my high, careful to avoid my clit so he doesn't overstimulate me too much.

"Younghoon!" Sangyeon's voice yells from across the house. "Did you forget about the Love Revolution cast event tonight? Jihoon's outside with his car to pick you up!"

"Oh shit..." Younghoon's eyes go wide and he quickly starts taking off his casual clothes. "Tell him I'll be there in just a minute!"

I laugh when he falls over trying to pull his sweatpants off, and he remembers my presence. "Babygirl, I'm so sorry I have to just leave you like this." He rambles as he gets dressed in some nice clothes as fast as possible. "Don't go home, stay here tonight. I promise when I get back I'll cuddle you and give you kisses and talk to you as long as you want. I'm so sorry, I know it's just terrible of me to be that rough and then immediately leave you. You know I wanna be here to care for you-"

"Younghoon, shut up." I chuckle, sitting up on the bed. "I do know you wanna stay, but you have responsibilities. It's okay, really. I'll be here when you get back, baby. Just have a fun night with your cast-mates, okay?"

He finished tying his shoe and sighs, coming over to me and landing a sweet kiss on my lips. I can still taste myself on him.

"I love you." He says with the most thankful and gratitude, as if to imply a "what did I do to deserve you?".

"I love you, too."

"Kim Younghoon!" This time it's Jihoon's voice, clearly coming from the front door.

"Coming!"

Younghoon hurries out of the room and I notice he left so fast that his phone is still sitting the bedside table.

I grab it and follow after him, silently thanking this sweatshirt for being long enough to fully cover my bare body. My legs are still pretty much fully exposed, but as long as no one sees me walking around with my ass hanging out, that's fine by me.

"Younghoon! Phone." He turns and I toss his phone to him, which he catches swiftly.

"Thanks, baby. See you later."

"Have fun!"

I feel a few pairs of eyes on me and look around to notice Kevin, Chanhee, Sangyeon, and Jihoon all staring at my legs.

"Park Jihoon!" Younghoon mocks Jihoon's tone from before.

"S-Sorry!" Jihoon follows Younghoon out the door, but Younghoon quickly peeks his head back in before the door shuts.

"No one touches my girlfriend or they're dead, got it? But look at her all you want." He tosses me a teasing look and a wink, finally closing the door behind him.

[whenisitenoughtrees]

still taking prompts? got rlly excited for a bit when u said u were bc i enjoy ur style a lot. anyway, lamp/calm for prompt #29? the prompt sounds like smth chaotic they would do lol

this is less chaotic and more tooth-rottingly fluffy, but uh here you go

for #29. Be quiet! You’ll get us caught!

Title: overthinking (darling we’re just fine)

Word Count: 1,963

Content Warnings: gratuitous discussion of breakfast foods

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

“Be quiet! You’ll get us caught!”

He hisses the words out entirely too loudly in the silence of the corridor, and Virgil winces as the sound dies down. In his defense, it is six in the morning, and he is hardly thinking straight. Or rather, coherently. And Roman knows it, too, is smirking at him with that stupid handsome smirk of his, and Virgil would seriously consider kissing him if it weren’t for the fact that he is running on roughly three hours of sleep, and his irritation is spiking.

“Now, storm cloud,” he says, voice just below a normal speaking volume, “we all know that Patton’s going to be dead to the world until at least seven thirty. You don’t need to worry so much.”

And, alright, maybe that’s true. But Virgil glares at him, too tired to deal with the slightly patronizing tone of voice. “Yeah?” he challenges. “I’m sorry, have you met me?”

Roman lifts an eyebrow. “Darling, I think I’ve done a bit more than meet you, at this point—”

“If you two are done making unnecessary noise?” It’s Logan, coming back around the corner, and he does not look impressed. Though, that may be because it’s six in the morning, and Logan never looks impressed about anything until his second cup of coffee. “By my estimates, we have one hour and seventeen minutes before we enter the window of time in which Patton is most likely to wake up. That should be enough time to complete all of our tasks, if we begin now and don’t commit any egregious errors.”

Virgil exchanges a look with Roman.

“Right, lead the way, Lo,” Roman says, and Virgil trails after the two of them, his brain fixing itself on the phrase egregious errors, because of course it does, because it’s him, because he can’t make it through one morning without his mind insisting that something is going to go terribly wrong and also that the world is ending.

He breathes in and out, slowly and deliberately. It’s just breakfast. They’re just making breakfast for Patton, because Patton has been sad and distant lately and nobody is quite sure how to help him, but doing something like this for him might cheer him up a bit.

So many things could go wrong, of course. They could burn the food. They could burn themselves. They could make such a mess that the prospect of cleaning it all up will put more stress on Patton than cooking the meal for him will alleviate, and then he’ll be even more sad and distant, and also, the world will end.

He’s trying not to think about any of that. Trying and failing. This sucks.

“Do you both remember your parts?” Logan asks. He’s tying an apron around his middle, black and utilitarian, but it suits him, somehow. Roman answers in the affirmative, already rattling around in the cupboards for the pans he needs, and Virgil gives a short nod.

Logan is making an omelet, one with all the fixings that Patton likes, ham and cheese and onion. Roman has insisted on making blueberry muffins from scratch, because he’s Roman and he has to be one hundred percent extra one hundred percent of the time. So, that’s left Virgil in charge of protein, and he’s chosen bacon. He knows how to make bacon. Theoretically, bacon is easy; you put it on the frying pan and flip it at the right time, and viola. Bacon.

So he stands there, watching it sizzle. Logan is next to him, keeping a close watch over his omelet on the stove top, and he serves as a steadying presence, reminding Virgil that he’s fine and that he can do this, and that bacon doesn’t take a very long time anyway, so even if he messes up, he can do it again. On Logan’s other side, Roman has commandeered the entire counter for his ingredients. He’s mixing them together and humming to himself, a jovial tune, and it’s still too loud but Virgil feels better about it than he did a few minutes ago.

He finishes the first batch, and frowns at the strips. They’re definitely cooked through all the way, but they’re a bit floppy, and a realization strikes him: he doesn’t know how Patton likes his bacon. Chewy or crispy? Or somewhere in between, with some crispy bits at the edges and the rest softer?

Oh god, the world is ending.

He must make a noise, or a noticeable motion, because Logan glances over at him.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.

“Chewy or crispy?” he manages to say, though his throat has clenched up like a vice. He is well aware that he’s making too big of a deal about this, that it’s just bacon, for crying out loud, but he’s running on so little sleep and it’s so important to him that he gets this right, that they succeed in making Patton feel a little better, and in the face of that, imperfect bacon might as well be the worst catastrophe he’s ever faced.

Logan’s brow furrows. “Are you talking about the bacon?” he asks. “You know, I’m not actually sure.”

He groans, staring at what he’s already made. It might be fine, but then again, it might not be, and if it’s not—

“Virgil,” Logan says, a bit of amusement creeping into his voice. “Please, breathe. Overly processed meat products are not worthy of your distress.”

“But—”

“No,” Logan says, “none of that. Even if we don’t know which he prefers, I find it unlikely that he will reject it out of hand if it’s crispier or chewier than he likes. And besides, if it would ease your mind, there is still plenty of time to make more, and that can be crispier than this first batch, so he can choose what he wants.”

He closes his eyes, nodding, turning over the words in his mind. As always, Logan knows exactly what to say to bring him out of a spiral.

“Right,” he says, and then again, because it’s reassuring to hear it out loud. “Right.”

Logan smiles at him, and then, almost too quickly to process, presses a soft kiss to the corner of Virgil’s mouth. He feels himself heating up, especially when he hears Roman laugh a bit.

“There we are,” Logan says fondly, and Virgil doesn’t see so much as sense Roman sneaking around to his other side. He anticipates the kiss, smacked against his cheek, wet and sloppy. He turns to glare, but Roman grins back at him unabashedly.

“I hear it’s loving Virgil hours?” he asks, and Virgil resists the urge to groan.

“It’s ten ‘til seven,” Logan says, but dashes Virgil’s hopes by following that up with, “though I’m not sure why the time matters. Every time is a good time to love Virgil.”

“Oh my god,” he says, and prays that his blush isn’t as obvious as he thinks it is. He may not have much dignity left to speak of, but he has a little bit, if he can hang on to it. “Isn’t it supposed to be loving Patton hours? Can we focus on that, please?”

“We can multitask,” Roman singsongs. “Muffins going in.”

Wordlessly, Virgil steps aside to allow him access to the oven.

“Actually,” Logan says, leaning against the counter with a self-satisfied expression, “the human brain is not designed for true multitasking. This is what makes speaking on the phone while driving so dangerous; if one attempts to accomplish multiple tasks at once, the ability to do all of them is severely compromised.” He pauses. “Though I believe Roman’s point does stand.”

“Of course it does,” Roman says airily. “We have so much love to go around.”

Logan concedes the point with a tilt of his head, but any attempt at stoicism is ruined by the grin twitching at the edges of his lips. Virgil rolls his eyes and dumps more bacon into his pan, but he has to admit, he does feel a lot more relaxed.

Which was probably their goal all along.

They finish up breakfast. Logan makes several omelets that are up to his standards, and Roman’s muffins come out of the oven perfectly baked, soft and crumbly on the top. And Virgil makes another batch of bacon, crispy this time, and then one more for good measure, just to make sure there’s enough of both kinds. Roman goes about setting the table for four, back to humming quietly to himself.

Virgil tunes into the sound on instinct, letting the ebb and flow of Roman’s voice ground him.

Logan surveys the spread of food with satisfaction. “Some fruit, perhaps?” he suggests, and Virgil veers over toward the fridge, digging through to find some strawberries. He’s washing them up when there is a sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and everyone else quiets.

Virgil turns to see Patton standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and his first thought is that he looks like crap. His hair is still mussed from sleep, and he has a thick blanket draped across his shoulders, but that’s not what catches Virgil’s attention; it’s the bloodshot look in his eyes and the bags underneath them, pointing to at least one restless night, if not more. It’s a look that Virgil is used to seeing in his own mirror; he doesn’t like seeing it on Patton.

“Good morning, Patton,” Logan says softly. “We made breakfast for you.”

Patton blinks owlishly, and for a moment, his face is completely blank, as if the words haven’t registered with him at all. Then, his eyes flicker to the table, and then to the mess in the kitchen, and go wide.

“You did all this for me?” he asks, his voice small.

Roman drapes his arms over him from behind, kissing his cheek just in front of his ear.

“Of course,” he says.

“We’ve noticed that you haven’t been feeling well lately,” Logan adds. “We hoped that this might help you feel better.”

A smile breaks out on Patton’s face, then, thin and watery and wavering but there all the same, and it is such a relief to see that Virgil feels as though a physical weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Patton gestures toward Logan, who steps forward obligingly into the hug, and then Patton looks to Virgil, who is still hovering awkwardly around the sink, hands full of strawberries, and, well. He can never deny Patton anything, and a group hug sounds nice, so he sets the strawberries down on the counter and moves to join them. It’s a big, warm embrace with Patton in the middle, and Virgil sighs as the last of his tension drips out of him, leaving him uncommonly relaxed.

“I love you guys so much,” Patton says. “Thank you.”

“Love you too, Pat,” Virgil murmurs, and though his voice gets a little bit lost in between the other two saying much the same thing, he knows that Patton hears him, because he turns to him for just a second and smiles, brighter and more genuine, and really, that makes all the stress of the morning completely worth it.

So, they have breakfast, and it’s good, and Virgil notices that Patton doesn’t seem to have much a preference between the two types of bacon, but that’s more than alright, because the point is to make Patton a bit happier, and the small smile on his face says that they’ve succeeded at that. So maybe the world isn’t ending at all.

Because Virgil would rather die than say something so cheesy out loud, but he’s got his entire world right here, sitting around the table in the early morning light, food and company and love to spare.

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @ldavmp4 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @sammy-is-obsessed @imlovethomassanders @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @halfordshysteria @random-fander @addykatb @i-cant-find-a-good-username @intruxiety @maybedefinitely404 @arya-skywalker @thefivecalls @nerdy-emo-royal-dad

[psychewithwings]

The Canary Pt. 2 Todoroki x F!

hi, this is pt 2 of my Shouto Todoroki x musician!reader where its a hot mess bc its kinda a love triangle with Enji????

Listen if ya missed pt 1... its here

TW: anything on my page is 18+, fuck outta here children and get some juice... manipulative relationships, messy love situation/ love triangle, hints at abusive relationship (between reader and her ex), her ex is also a drug addict... and a criminal... if you're wondering why this is such a messy fic its inspired by my watching the show euphoria... 

and lemme address this: i know enji got a redemption arc but i wanted to write him with a similar vibe to nates dad from euphoria... to explore the manipulative sides of age gap relationships or relationships with clearly unbalanced power dynamics, my portrayal of him here is not what i would deem perfectly canon but more a vessel for the plot and ideas i want to explore with this piece and the complexities within it, now... that being said... i give you a long awaited pt 2 to The Canary

You watch as Shouto opens the front door and slips away into the night. The door closes and upon hearing the latch click you realize you’d been holding your breath. You exhale long and slow, still stunned by Shouto’s vulnerability. He worries he will never be able to save himself. Yes, you very much relate to that problem. There is something about Shouto that scares you, looking at him in person, it feels like he is someone you’d known forever, that you should have memories of him but the place in your mind that they should be, is blank.

How he feels about you is still incredibly unclear. You had been very aware of how carefully he watched you during your meal, his eyes seemingly tracking each of your movements and committing them to memory. Dinner was uncomfortable, you had wanted to hide and simultaneously prove yourself to him; that you were different from his idea of who you must be considering the circumstances. You knew what he thought; that you were just some shallow girl dating his dad for the money. But that wasn’t the truth.

Maybe someday you and Shouto would learn the truth of who the other was, your pasts, desires for the future, and maybe what that feeling was that made him seem so familiar. You could easily picture yourself trying to make him laugh on a warm spring day and you smile to yourself.  

“Well I’m glad to see you smiling,” Enji remarks as he sits next to you on the couch. “Shouto can be a bit harsh, I apologize…” Enji murmurs and wraps his arm around you, a protective and comforting gesture. “No, it’s okay, it’s only natural for him to feel suspicious or confused,” you console. You pull your legs onto the couch and snuggle into the cushions.“I’ll talk to him about it,” he offers but you shake your head. “No, it’s really okay, I think he’s warming up to me.” Enji raises an eyebrow at you and smiles slightly. “Shouto doesn’t warm up to others easily… or at all,” he dismisses and kisses your cheek. You look up at him and blink. “I’m not worried ‘bout it… best to just give it time,” you smile. Enji gives you a single nod before his expression falls stern.  “As much as I enjoy your optimism, we need to discuss Friday, I won’t be able to go and I don’t want you going alone.” You inhale slowly and hold your breath until you can figure out the words exactly.

“Enji, I told you, I can take care of myself for a night, I don't need you to watch over me every time I do a gig.” His gaze bores into yours, eyes piercing. “And I’ve asked  you nicely not to play this weekend, you’re sophisticated now, a place like the Viper Lounge should be considered beneath you.” You move away from his touch, crossing your arms. While Enji is more supportive than anyone else about your music career, he still didn’t understand. He had been a hero, a place like The Viper is considered scummy in his circle but for you it’s the holy grail of performance venues. You explain time and time again and the words are becoming dull and grey with repetition. “It’s one of the best places for someone who’s looking to get scouted to perform… and the Viper  invited me, that's a big deal.” Enji shifts to face you, “I know this feels big to you but it’s just a small set in a shitty dive.”

A part of you wanted to cry hearing those words, but the tears didn’t come. Just a small, sad smile. “There’s going to be talent scouts and agents there… just to see who was selected for the line up and I’m the closing set… It's a pretty big deal.”  

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

Shouto walks from the house, his head filled with thoughts of you. Your smile, your voice, that ridiculous yellow guitar. Your eyes, their inquisitive nature. He thinks back to his answer to your question, “I'm afraid that no matter how many people I save, that I’ll never be able to save myself.” He sighs, he can’t remember the last time he could be so honest with someone, let alone someone who was practically a stranger… But there is something about you that seems oddly familiar, though for what reason he felt this way was unclear.

He is about halfway to his car when he feels how light his pants pocket is. His phone… he must have left it inside somewhere, maybe the kitchen? He sighs, he doesn’t want to return to the house, to have to look at you again after being so honest. He had been bold in hopes of- well he isn’t all that sure why he had said something like that so openly, all he knows is the heat is creeping to his cheeks. He takes a breath before hesitantly opening the door. He collects himself, hoping you wont be able to see his embarrassment.

“I told you, there will be plenty more opportunities and you won't have to perform in such a dump,” he hears his fathers voice. He knows that voice… Shouto opens his mouth to call out but shuts it again hearing your icy tone, “you’re not listening... Enji.” Shouto’s eyebrows raise in surprise, you’re not as childish as he first thought. In fact, it seems you’re holding your own against his father in an argument of sorts. He hears Enji laugh mockingly, “I’m not listening? What about Kai?” There’s a long pause, the sound of cicadas filling Shouto’s ears while the name Kai tumbles around his mind. He knew that name from somewhere. “What about Kai?” your voice is so low he can barely hear it. “Is he going to be there?” Enji pushes. Your voice raises slightly in aggravation, “I don't know, I don't talk to Kai, I haven’t said a word to him since the day I left.” Enji scoffs, “Really? It’s suspicious that the Viper Lounge invites you to perform when you’re almost a year out of that scene, he has connections there, what if he’s just using this “gig” as an excuse to get close to you? C’mon y/n, use your head.” Enji’s tone is viciously condescending. Shouto clenches his jaw, waiting for your reply. “I’ve thought about that possibility, but it's an event to showcase new upcoming artists and I haven’t performed there solo before, so I don’t find it totally unbelievable they would ask me.” For once Enji has no rebuttal and you take that as your cue to continue. “Kai isn’t even in the line up… and even if he was, I’m going because this is important to me, this has nothing to do with him.”

Shouto couldn’t keep standing outside listening, he had to get his phone now. He briskly steps inside and shuts the door loudly behind him. “I left my phone,” he announces as he walks through the house to the kitchen. The silence that follows his interruption makes him worry you both figured out he had been listening, though perhaps you were both just embarrassed to be caught arguing. He finds his phone by the kitchen sink and pockets it quickly, before heading back towards the door. He nods towards you both before turning his back.

“Hey Shouto?” The sound of your voice stops him in his tracks. He shifts carefully to face you and sees your eyes glinting with mischief. “You own a hero agency right?” Shouto nods, watching carefully to see where you were going with this. “I’m sure then that you would have a hero capable of a simple bodyguard job, for just this little gig I’m doing on Friday, I know it’s last minute so if you don’t have anyone… I’ll be fine.” He had to play this carefully so as not to expose himself for eavesdropping. “Where’s the gig?” “The Viper Lounge,” Enji scoffs. His father must be furious that you’ve now involved a third party. If there was something Enji Todoroki hated, it was airing his dirty laundry. Shouto was careful not to laugh… you were far smarter than he initially gave you credit for.

“I’ve performed at the Viper before… tons of times-``''You have, but only with Kai Chisaki.” Your face tells Shouto that name hits a sore spot. Hearing his whole name sparks Shouto’s memory and he realises who Kai is. Kai Chisaki, an underground rapper… face tattoos and some nasty habits that earned him a hell of a rap sheet; burglary, assault, possession of unlicensed weapons, public indecency, drug counts too high to keep track of… He’d been arrested again a few months ago, but just like the last, he was bailed out and the charges were dismissed.

“But the Viper asked me to be a part of this gig for showing off upcoming talent… Enji’s just worried for me because he can't be there and my ex has a reputation- ``''That’s putting it lightly,” Enji interrupts, “he’s scum, deserves to rot in prison.” You rub your palms on your thighs and smile gently at Shouto. “I just think the situation would be more comfortable for everyone if I had some protection… Maybe you know of someone that could watch out for me for the night?”

Shouto resists the urge to volunteer, though the temptation of hearing your voice again is overwhelming. “Tch- as if I would trust any of the foolish heroes Shouto babysits to watch after you in that cesspool…” You gaze at Enji with big doe eyes, your body turning, hands inching towards his father’s legs. “You trust Shouto don’t you?” Enji pauses, before he sighs “I do.” You give him a winning smile, “then he’ll pick someone fit for the job.” Enji’s brow creases pensively, “Shouto,” he addresses. Shouto meets his father’s eyes, his heartbeat quickening as he realises what he’s about to ask. “What are your plans Friday? Could you take her?”

Shouto pretends to consider it, but really he counts the seconds until he can agree. He didn’t really know what it was about you that made him want to go with you so badly to this gig. It’s a separate part of himself that Shouto was unfamiliar with, a part of him that wasn’t thinking but desired only to know you… or understand you? There was just something about you. That was all he knew for sure. He nods, trying his best to hide his true feelings. “I could make arrangements to accompany y/n, as long as,” he looks at you, “you’re comfortable with that.” You hold out your hands defensively and shake your head, “if you have to move things around- you’re so busy- I-I don’t wanna cause you any trouble.” Shouto dismisses your statement, “it’s not trouble, I wouldn’t agree otherwise.”

You shift uncomfortably, “as long as you’re sure…” Shouto turns towards the door, facing forward as he leaves you with these words. “It’s important to you, right? Just accept my help.” He opens the door, and holds the frame tightly. He knows he shouldn’t, he hears the chorus of voices telling him not to look back, but it's that one part of him again that takes control and turns his head. He can’t help but smile slightly seeing your expression. Mouth parted and brow raised slightly in surprise. Beautiful.

“We’ll connect about details sometime during the week,” he confirms, “see you Friday.” He hears you call out your gratitude as he closes the door and makes for his car. He slides into the driver's seat and turns on the engine and looks towards his childhood home. The light from the windows casts a glow onto the grass. He finally exhales and with each new breath he gains more clarity about the situation. He shouldn’t care about you, he can’t let himself get any closer. He would help you with this gig and go back to avoiding family dinner like the plague. Shouto leans his head back into the seat and puts the car in reverse. He tries his best to shake off these thoughts but that little devil on his shoulder keeps cackling and whispering suggestions he chooses to immediately ignore.

He pulls out of the driveway and onto the road, pushing thoughts of you away and doing his best to find another topic to think about, something to distract him from the confusion of his swirling emotions. But as much as he tries, he can’t stop thinking about you.

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

if you want to be added to the taglist its here

[the-finch-address]

Tag: Word Find

Tagged by @sharraus! Thank you!!

tHO isn’t at the stage where I can find half of these words in a comprehensible state since most of it is Draft 1 gibberish. So instead I’m using the opportunity to write something new for each prompt; some being canon from the book and others just standing as an excuse to write the characters interacting. Bc of this the length got a bit......Out Of Hand. Sorry about that. Putting it all under the read more so I don’t bombard anyone’s dashboard

> Prompt: Work [Note; This occurs years before the plot begins]

Vestiel ran his fingers through the grass and picked at early yellow blooms. The harsh clang of metal against wood echoed around him, the sounds of the forest easily lost behind it.

“Can we go home soon?” he whined, “I’m so hungry I could eat a bear.” His bottom lip is brought between his teeth, and he waits. Clang. Clang. Clang. “Please?”

The axe stills. Andi turns, wiping the sweat from his brow while fitting Vestiel with a look. Magpies trill in the wake of his silence, the flutter of fallen leaves following the breeze. Andi straightens his back. “Silas won’t have finished dinner yet, lad, the sun’s still well up the sky.” He answers, looking annoyed, “We’ve plenty of light to finish this up first. Fill the baskets if you’re so restless.”

He reaches for the axe again. The disappointment must have shown on Vestiel’s face, though, since the tool remains lodged, and Andi continues to look distracted. He knew the boy was too young to understand how important this work was, how it kept them warm and fed. He couldn’t blame a child for prioritizing an empty stomach over harsh and thankless labor. Still, that morning’s storm had downed too many trees to not take advantage of. It had to be done.

“Tell you what,” Andi resigns himself, a weary smile lifting his eyes, “I’ll let you do a few strokes, but Vestiel-”

The boy is already up and on his feet, dandelions forgotten in the sunken spots of grass where his legs had crossed, “You mean it?” He brightens, “I can do it all by myself?”

“Listen to me,” Andi lifts a hand, demanding attention, while the other remains on the hilt, “you’ll start with the axe wedged in and bring them down together-” he offers a stern look, “--and I don’t want to hear any complaints. This is your first time, I don’t want you lopping off a toe or, North forbid, a whole foot. You need a feel for the tool before you do anything else.”

Vestiel acknowledges this with a hasty nod, the muttered agreement of “Yeah, yeah, sure” crossing his lips, hand already reaching for the axe.

Andi comes between him with a harsher expression than before, eyebrows raised expectantly. Vestiel lets out a sigh.

“The axe will start in the wood. Got it.” The impatience hasn’t fully left his tone, but it’s an improvement, and Andi appears content by it.

The wood is already a narrowed size when the axe is driven through its flesh. The blade settles halfway down the block and wedges itself firmly along the grain with little resistance, just on the edge of splitting. He brings it to Vestiel, who takes the closer end of the block with his left hand and the hilt with his right.

“Now, you’ll want to bring it down towards the back of the splitting block,” Andi starts, “Make sure you do so with both hands together, or you’ll only-”

Clang. Vestiel opens his eyes, already knowing that Andi is going to ring his neck for having closed them in the first place. All is forgotten at the sight of the severed wood, though, and he can’t help but be excited with the results. It isn’t perfect by any means, but it’s his, and he’s no less proud of it despite his brother's hand-holding. He looks to Andi in hopes of praise.

“Mother’s grief, Vestiel, have some patience!” Is the chastised response he receives instead. “You couldn’t have at least waited for me to finish?”

Vestiel makes a sour face. “I did it fine, didn’t I?” He retorts, “Isn’t that good enough?”

Andi raises a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose, a long and tired breath escaping him. After a minute of patience himself he’s able to give Vestiel the reaction he was looking for. A smile, small but proud. “It’s not bad for your first time,” he says, “but you’re going to need more practice, and patience, than that if you want to hack apart whole trees in a few years.”

He extends a hand to bring Vestiel near, pulling him snug against his side. “You did well.” Andi continues, “but, lad,” his voice lowers to a stern whisper, and

Vestiel pales, “If I ever see your eyes closed with an axe in hand again, you’ll sweep the whole corridor. Twice.”

He swallows harshly and answers only with a nod. The pride blooming in his chest doesn't falter.

> Prompt: Weather

The evening sky flashes white, casting shadows across paintings framed in gold and goblets of silver. Across the room, Caprice of the North hunches over a desk painted in candlelight. He draws a finger across the map in study of its various routes and borders, frowning. Behind him, thunder crashes down. He flinches. Pitiful.

Shaking away the thought, the young deliverer refocuses. His back arches further towards the desk until braided locks of gold spill over onto the wood. Especially now, as he squints in the darkness of his shadow, does he wish this dreaded storm had chosen another night. It brought a miserable chill to his bones despite the grizzly pelt draping heavily over his shoulders and brought an ache to his bones.

Lightning comes again, its brilliant light cutting into the room with the swiftness of a sword’s blow. Capri anticipates it this time. When thunder claps against his window he’s decisively ready for it, his knuckles gone white against clenching fists. He can’t stop their trembling no matter how tightly he’s squeezing.

A knock at the door sends him out of his skin.

Like a sharp wound, the anticipation drives him into a panic. Young flesh grasps aimlessly for a new frame to stretch into, finding nothing but mortal bones. By the time the door swings open he is straightened, remembering a human form, begging the drum within his heart to settle.

Silence greets him. A form approaches from the doorway and draws towards the light, illuminating their features quick enough that Caprice’s hand stills where it rested on the hilt of his sword.

“Dove?” He relaxes and lets himself breathe, forcing air into his lungs with more effort than is needed. “I thought you were with Eivind."

“He was needed elsewhere,” Dove signs. His hands portrayed a sense of disappointment where one couldn’t be seen in his expression, brown eyes seeming indifferent.

Caprice looks away shamefully, “You didn’t have to come,” he says.

“I wanted to.”

His gaze again lifts to meet the other with only a grunt, reluctant to answer in words for fear that his voice might betray him.

Light consumes the room with blinding force and concurrently Caprice’s hand reaches blindly for the edge of the desk to ground himself. It’s silly, he thinks, ruined pride staining his cheeks red. Internally he’s counting the seconds as they go by, steeling himself.

Dove reaches for him--

Capri recoils just as thunder cracks and booms overhead. The approach was too quick, well-meaning as it may have been. Dove understands the reaction. He reads Caprice as well as the noble reads his sign.

The thrashing of rain fills the aching silence and neither of them dares interrupt it. Seconds pass by without distraction until Dove again extends his hand forward. He moves slower than he has to under the young emperor’s weary gaze as though addressing a wounded animal.

When Caprice notices it’s not without backlash. His eyes turn hard, looking fussed. His nails dig into the wood beneath them until angry lines form on the underside of the desk and pain shoots up his fingers.

Dove’s palm settles over his hand, squeezing.

He flinches but can’t bring himself to shake the man away. The silence between them stretches on unbearably after, broken only by the rain. He releases the desk and turns his palm face up, intertwining their fingers wearily. “Thank you.” He whispers.

When the thunder comes this time, he doesn’t flinch.

Prompt: Help

Vestiel’s heartbeat thuds like thunder roaring inside his ears. He stares with too much intent at the earth beneath his worn shoes, doing his best to concentrate on the hole boring over the space near his toes.

Much to his dismay, Fannar-Haise appears to notice.

She carries herself past the snow huts and politely cuts through the crowd, stepping lightly around the fire and between celebrants, their songs alight with a different kind of flame.

Vestiel can’t hear them past his own thoughts. Get out, get out, get out. He forces some semblance of greeting out as she approaches but can’t manage to look her in the eyes. It’s hard most days, but especially now.

“Enjoying the party?” She asks, making no mention of the answer being pretty obvious. The smile on her lips is pitying, judgemental at worst, he just knows it. He can’t bear to lift his chin and see. If Andi were here he could explain himself easily but, as it was, he was going into this situation alone. Completely, utterly alone.

“Yeah,” he lies, “just tired from all the traveling.”

It’s a witless excuse and she knows it. Instead of pointing it out, though, she only offers a shake of her head. There’s a lot to say about communication and Fannar-Haise considers herself an expert on the subject. She watches him fumble about; the trouble in getting his tongue to do its job sticking out to her as sorely as the restless, rhythmic tap of his hand against his hip and the blatant avoidance of eye contact. It answered her question more than his words could, and that was okay.

“You’re overwhelmed,” she nods to herself this time, having seemingly come to a conclusion all on her own, “Let me help. You don’t have to answer with words, a nod will do just fine. Can you walk?”

Vestiel squints at the sole of his shoes, looking confused, then apprehensive, “I’m-”

Silence. No matter how hard he pries, not a single word comes loose from his tongue. The thoughts are there and plentiful, excuses and apologies, maybe something more, fastened tightly like honey coating his throat and hidden away between his ribcage, leaving him breathless and useless.

His chin tilts upward, lips parting, but he can’t manage it. Instead, he allows himself the nod she had been looking for.

“Good. That’s good. We’re going to go somewhere quiet and after that you can tell me what you want to do. Can I touch your hand?”

She patiently waits for the resulting, albeit cautious nod, and takes his hand within her own.

She guides him past the bustling scene like this. As they reach a distance where the noise has muffled he finds it in himself to speak again. It’s slow, at first, allowing his mind time to find the right words. “How did you know?”

Calmly she turns her gaze from the sky, not looking directly at him but rather just past where he stands. There isn’t a soul there when Vestiel follows her gaze over his shoulder, but he’d only half expected one. Andi had learned with time not to stare too long; something told him Haise was just as quick of a learner.

“Call it a hunch,” she hums, “I’ve experienced my fair share of things, Vestiel. This isn’t new or strange, it’s just you.” She pauses to face him, eyes still averted. He returns the favor and looks at her nose like it’s his only salvation, seconded only by the sight of his snow hut in the distance and the soft murmur becoming of the crowd ever fading behind them.

“Besides,” she continues, “these celebrations aren’t a requirement by any standard. They’re here to bring happiness. If something causes you to be unhappy you have no obligation to stay. If you need to step away, I will understand. We will always understand.”

Vestiel doesn’t know what to say when they reach the entrance. Despite her words, he can’t help but feel a wave of guilt wash over him for having both left the celebration early-- a celebration of his arrival, no less--and now, leaving their leader at the door.

She picks up on this, too.

“I’m going to head back to the others for a while longer. You can join us if you’re feeling up to it, or you can stay here and get some rest. Don’t overthink it, okay?”

Her warmth is everything to him, more grounding than a hole in his shoe could ever be. He wants her to know, wants to find the right words to explain how much her actions mean to him, but there isn’t an easy way to go about it without making a greater fool of himself. He answers with a weak smile and a simple, “Okay”, the best he can offer in way of thanks.

She matches his smile and bids him goodnight.

Prompt: Hope

The scent of leather tanning above flame clings to his nostrils. It fills him with a sense of despair unlike any other, weighing different from the miserable few weeks he’d spent mourning Andi, even. Putrid, a nauseating sort of agony like snakes writhing and tearing at his stomach. Burning. Burning. Burning.

The forest was ablaze. That was all he could possibly know, here in the dark. Shadows drove past him in a stampede of bodies carving through the night, survived only by a name and footprints worn into the poaching grounds.

He scares awake. Stars wink faintly above him, hidden behind the morning sun.

“Bad dream?”

Tupelo’s voice startles him a second time from where he lay, their trek up the hill all but forgotten until that point.

Vestiel slowly drags himself into a sitting position with a grunt of effort. Sweat collects at his jaw, cold against his cheeks. He licks his lips and tastes salt.

“A fire, just to the north of here-- tonight maybe--the forest, the people-”

Tupelo tends to the campfire, looking drained. It was suddenly apparent neither of them had slept well. “The forest?” they ask with a shake of their head, “Not to the north, yet.”

“Yet?”

Vestiel draws his shirt away and uses the

bottom corner to dry his face. Goosebumps still clinging to his arms, the memory remaining like a fresh wound.

“You don’t have to believe me,” he says, “I can’t explain it to you and if I do, you’ll just think I’ve gone strange. I’m only asking that you take me north of here.”

He reaches for the map tucked inside his rucksack, spilling a few more items in the process, “It shouldn’t be too far off from where we’re going already. I’ll show you.”

Tupelo is quick to rest their hand against his wrist with a sympathetic, albeit calm look on their face. “We’ll go.” They assure him, pointing to the north. “If it’s important.”

_________________________________

It quickly becomes evident that Tupelo is just as ill-equipped for this kind of travel as Vestiel. For as nimble as they are the hill obviously called for a different kind of strength. The original path would have taken them up and around, but this new direction was a straight shot to the north, uphill for the better half of it.

Tupelo watches Vestiel out of the corner of their eye, checking up on him every now and then as though waiting for Vestiel to change his mind, or hoping he’ll get around to it if they climb for long enough.

However, Vestiel remains steadfast in the endeavor, eyes locked on the horizon. He’s certain of what he saw, having learned to trust the dreams long ago, and he had no plans to stop now. The smell of burning flesh still lingered undeniably.

“We’re almost there.” Tupelo breaks the silence.

“Finally,” he gasps, “I don’t think my legs can go on for much longer.”

He can feel it already. The weight of the earth shifting beneath his feet, a familiar pressure that seeps into his bones, pungent smoldering inside his nostrils once more. “It’s right over here,” he drags himself the last few feet to the summit, “It’s-”

Dead. Every tree, every blade of grass, the entire opposite face of the hill lie dusty and black, an empty expanse of burnt trunks where the forest should have been.

Tupelo comes up beside him.

“What happened here?” Vestiel gasps in disbelief, “I was sure-- my dreams have never lied, not once before. Were we too late?”

“Your soul tells stories, not prophecies.” Tupelo answers, “Father told me you can hear them.”

“Them?”

“The spirits,” they gesture to the barren woods, “they speak because they know you will listen. Come.”

Vestiel follows their lead. Dry grass crunches underfoot as they descend the hill. Patches of green pop up here and there, but aren't constant and don’t compare to the full weight of the forest that should have been in its stead. It’s a sight he feels the need to grieve over as though his own soul were tied to the scorched land. The thought scares him.

Tupelo steps ahead and crouches to their knees, hands smoothing over a ring of stones that would have gone unseen had they not brought attention to it. Wordlessly, they pull the canteen from its strap and let the remainder of its water drip out.

Vestiel inches closer now. He kneels beside the other, “What is it?”

Tupelo sits back on their heels, palms opening to show a young sapling, green and healthy, standing tall, small as it may be. It rests in a forgotten graveyard.

“A tree?” Vestiel reaches for it and thumbs carefully along the juvenile bark. “What is one tree to an empty field?”

Tupelo cradles the sapling fondly. “Hope.”

_________________________________

I'm tagging @faenova @squid-scribe @zmlorenz @ashen-crest @henrike-does-writing-sometimes and @sharraus (can I tag the tagger? I'm doing it anyway)

Your words are Drenched, Gather, Cradle, and Howl

[tintinwrites]

what kind of fool am i | Poe Dameron x Reader | Part One of Two

A/N: This is one of the darkest things I’ve ever posted. Big shoutout to @niffleurs​ for helping me a lot and shoutout to you guys for suggestions of what you wanted to see in this!

Rating: It’s not really explicit, but I’m going to say M bc I would rather adults read the subject matter.

Warning: Torture. Blood. You and Poe both take a couple punches. Naughty words. Forced kissing. Threats of sexual assault. Emotional trauma. Sexual references.

Word count: 3,212, apparently!!

Summary: You’re on a mission when a group of men that aren’t entirely linked to the First Order decide to have fun with you and Poe.

A good musical accompaniment: What Kind of Fool Am I - Emile Pandolfi

Poe almost kissed you.

Looking at the starry sky reflecting in your gaze while you sat with him in a quiet field, he leaned slightly closer.

And for a moment he didn't care about the war, or rebuilding the Resistance, or staying completely professional, or the undeniable pang he knew would be in his chest if you were to reject him.

If you denied him, he would understand that; but if you kissed him back, he would know you liked him too and be with his favorite person in the galaxy.

You were looking at the trees and telling him a story without looking at him, and he was about to crane his neck to press his lips to yours.

When blaster shots sounded from the little village where you were currently on a mission to find allies.

Poe decided he could kiss you later as you both leapt to your feet and ran to see what the noise was.

The native people of the planet were being corralled into the village square by a group of men in black clothing, waving their blasters and firing them warningly when someone dared try to protest whatever they had planned.

"Deliver any Resistance members you have hidden to me or my men, and I won't order them to kill each and every one of you slowly," said a man who appeared to be the leader; tall and classically handsome if you didn't count his cold, cruel eyes.

"You won't find any Resistance members here." That was a villager, only slightly lying as a quick scan proved there were none of your friends or colleagues standing among them.

"Then I'm going to have to show you why you should tell me where they are."

Both you and Poe were hiding behind the short wall that surrounded the village, and he was looking at you with wild eyes telling you please don't when you moved to peek over the wall again to see what they were going to do to convince these people.

The leader was approaching a young woman, the muzzle of his blaster moving hair away from her pretty face.

He paused and you hid behind the wall as he whipped around to look at you. "Wait a minute."

Everyone was silent as his footsteps grew louder in the grass, approaching the very spot where you were pressed tight to the wall.

Poe quickly deduced that he saw enough of you to assume that someone was there, and he wouldn't even need to be right at the very short wall to see you.

He needed to think of a way to stop this guy or his height over the wall would be much to his advantage.

"I don't think threatening to kill people is the most convincing way to go about this." He stood and did his best not to glare in your direction when you squeaked at him to stop; his presence was enough to distract this guy from hearing your quiet noise.

"Poe Dameron." He was in awe, but not impressed as much as pleased to have found one of the Resistance's most prominent members.

"And I'm guessing you're some First Order goon?" Poe stepped over the wall like a fool, knowing you would be spotted if he didn't move as far away from you as he could.

"Not exactly. Seize him." Two large men that he hadn't noticed grabbed tight to his arms and started frog marching him somewhere that he didn't really care where.

It wasn't near you.

That's all he cared about at the moment.

"And one more thing." His tone was casual and Poe heard a familiar voice crying out, looking over his shoulder to see the man dragging you to your feet with one hand gripping your hair and the other gripping one of your arms, forcing you to clumsily step over the wall.

"No! Y/N!" He tried to fight now that you needed his protection, but he was forced away to a small home that had been taken over by these men without his knowledge.

One of the men who had a hold of him was larger than anyone he knew, easily forcing him into a dining chair and taking bindings from the other man to tie him down expertly.

His wrists bound behind the chair and his shoulders were stretched, already hurting as he uselessly tried to tug himself free of the strong material.

Maybe he should've struggled harder when you were dragged in, but he was too busy fearfully watching you be tied to a chair across from him.

It was only supposed to be him.

"Manu, tell all the guys to kill every single kriffing person out there." He addressed the one large guy and you and Poe looked at each other hopelessly.

"Did the First Order really send someone too trigger happy to complete their mission?" Poe's sassy remark was not very biting.

All those villagers would be killed and there was nothing either of you could do about it.

"I wasn't sent by the First Order. But I'm glad to help them by weakening your pathetic group."

"Why do you care if you're not one of them?" Your gaze flickered from him to the other darkly dressed man in the room and then to him as he crouched down to your level.

"What's your name, beautiful?"

"You know my name."

Poe had yelled it and you were nearly as prolific as he was in the first place, but the man grabbed onto your chin tightly. "What's your fucking name?"

It was power play and you knew that, and you gasped out your full name to make him release his vice grip.

He tapped the spots where you would surely be bruising, gentle like he hadn't nearly broken your jaw by hand, and you leaned your head away from him, watching how tense Poe was in his chair.

"My name's Ric and that over there is my best pal Sheltav. There's something you need to know, sweet thing. Are you listening?" He blocked your view of Poe.

"I am." You stared defiantly into his eyes.

"We're not part of the First Order and I don't really give a damn what their intentions are for you, but we're gonna have some fun, don't you think?"

"I think it'd be fun to bash your face into the ground."

Ric turned around to walk to Poe at his comment, smiling kindly. "Aren't we going to have fun, Sheltav?"

A grunt.

"Aren't we going to have fun, Y/N?"

Silence.

"Aren't we going to have fun, Poe?"

His voice had darkened, the pilot's name punctuated with a hard punch to the face that almost made the chair topple over had Sheltav not stepped over to hold it upright.

The stars in Poe's vision were not as pretty as the ones he'd been watching in your eyes, and he was slightly aware of you yelling his name along with kriff this and damn that at Ric.

But he'd been punched many times and would rather keep the violence on him rather than you until he figured a way out of this.

There were weapons being laid out on a table when he stopped seeing double of Ric, meant for him if he had anything to say about it.

Ric looked at him like he could read his mind, his hand held out for Sheltav to place a small dagger into it. "I think it's sweet that you tried to distract me from finding her."

Maybe he could read his mind or maybe Poe had a fucking tell, like clenching his jaw when the dagger was held up to your face.

Your eyes followed it, gasping when he moved it to easily slice the front of your shirt open.

"Don't fucking touch her!" He knew it was stupid to let these guys know that any harm coming to you was indirectly hurting him, but he wasn't going to sit back and let them do what they wanted.

"I didn't. Or are you warning me tied up to a chair at my mercy?"

"Poe, don't—"

You were interrupted by a rough slap to the face and Poe attempted to jump from his chair, earning a punch from Sheltav like he wasn't already securely tied down.

That rib's broken again, flitted through his mind, but he was thinking more about you than the pain in his side.

"No speaking unless you're spoken to, princess."

"We're not telling you where the rest of the Resistance is," Poe murmured through a clenched jaw.

"You two are enough."

"Or you're a couple of pansy First Order allies that can't take more than us." A closed fist against your face was the retaliation for Poe's comment and you cried out.

His chest tightened painfully, fear strong at them hurting you for sassy comments that he was used to being the one hurt for.

The dagger was at your collarbone, a distracted whimper from your lips as the tip broke open your skin and only pushed deeper.

Poe yanked at the binds around his wrists, squirming in his seat to be free. "What the hell do you want then? Their approval? Money?"

"Maybe I want two of the best pilots in your pansy Resistance to bleed and scream." Ric moved to slice a line into your jaw and Poe shouted,

"Please don't!"

The smirk clearly said he should have kept his mouth shut, should have let them do a mere little cut in your skin.

"Are you with him?" He asked you softly, and you were still blinking away the fist that had collided with your face as you answered.

"No..."

"Did you know that he wants to be?"

"Poe is my friend."

Poe was your friend who hated himself for wanting more, for thinking about kissing you when you considered him to be a trusted colleague, for the glint in Ric's eyes when he saw the truth in his.

He trailed the dagger along your torso.

"I said we'd all have fun and I think we can give Dameron something fun to tighten his pants, don't you? It's obvious you owe him for making him pine after you with nothing in return."

"She doesn't owe me—" Poe flinched at your loud scream, not able to see with the man blocking his view of you, but pretty sure the dagger was somewhere digging into the skin of your right hip.

You began to sob at the pain.

Poe couldn't look away from the tears streaming down your cheeks with Sheltav's grip holding his head still, and he knew he needed to get you out of there.

"Please! Please stop! You're hurting her, please!"

"That's part of the point here."

"You can hurt me!"

"I heard you're dramatic."

And he did stop, leaving you slumped and weeping in the chair.

With a P and a D carved messily into your hip to humiliate you, to mock Poe's desire for you.

A reminder for if— when you were free, for this and what a thoughtless dick he was, wanting you too much that these men noticed it.

This wasn't something where they were trying to get information and promising him that they would stop if he told them what they wanted, and Poe didn't know what to do.

What if they did want information?

Would he let them hurt you or betray the Resistance?

"Do you like it?" Ric moved over to hold the tip of the dagger between Poe's legs and he flinched back quickly, though there wasn't anywhere to go.

"I would rather carve into you." He was an idiot who instinctively bit back at anyone who tried to intimidate him, forgetting that his words didn't put him into any trouble this time.

No, it was you who received another punch to the face and this time your head drooped down, and Poe started panicking.

He squirmed, watching Ric tilt your head back and search for a pulse. "Y/N? Sweetheart?"

"She's tough. I knocked her around a bit too much, but she's perfectly fine."

"Please leave her alone."

"Do you want to kiss her, Dameron?"

"Excuse me?"

Ric brushed a hand over your hair, and across your cheek, then dug his thumb into the front of your throat. "Answer me."

He needed to behave, to keep you from being hurt. "Yes."

And the guy started batting at your injured face gently, prompting you to wake up again.

You didn't have any idea what was happening and Poe hated the way you looked at him in confusion like he could tell you that you were both on base where you should be.

He hated it more when Ric turned your head to offer him a view of your profile; or to offer him a view of the kiss, your pliable lips opening for his tongue to crudely thrust into your mouth, taking advantage of your current confusion.

His lips were coated with the blood dripping from your split bottom one as he pulled away, walking to Poe and gripping his hair tightly.

It took all his effort not to bite the fucker's tongue when he kissed him. He wanted to taste his blood and not your blood, but could only imagine what would be done to you if he injured your captor in such a way.

"There you go," he said patronizingly, like that demonstration was anything like kissing you would be.

"Poe...I'm..."

"It's okay, baby."

Ric smiled. "You really like her. I could make her suck your dick. I mean, I don't think she'd have any idea what the fuck she's doing right now, but I can guide her a bit, assist her with a good pace."

If looks could kill, he would have been a pile of dust on the floor and Poe would have been breaking free to save you right then; his glare was darker than it'd ever been.

"Don't you ever think about fucking her?"

"No."

His answer was fast and this time he was the one who was hurt for speaking, with a hard backhand and then a sharp tug on his hair to lift his head like it was his fault he looked away from the man. "You're a terrible liar. Do you want to fuck her?"

He didn't want to tell them the deepest thoughts he had about you, his little desires that would probably be used against him.

But his lack of an answer would be misbehavior and be used too.

Probably to hurt you.

"Yes."

"Me and Sheltav can take care of that for you too."

There was a moment where he had to think extra hard around the ringing in his head from the smack, but he understood quickly and his eyes widened.

He couldn't even formulate any words as Ric moved over to untie you and your body fell limp against his chest.

You were in his arms like those damsels in distress he'd heard about in stories as a kid when he remembered how to speak, how to protect you. "Please don't! Oh, fuck, no, please! You can do whatever you want to me! I'm willing to give you anything you want if you...please don't hurt her like that."

He was struggling harder against his restraints now, caring very little if he dislocated his shoulders as pleas and curse words fell from his lips, tripping and stumbling over each other, not intelligible and yet desperate to be acknowledged.

"Poe," your whimper of his name broke his heart, knowing you figured out what they were going to do and couldn't even try to fight them.

"Please don't fucking do this to her! Please!"

They walked into an adjacent room and the door shut with a click.

You were about to be hurt in one of the worst ways possible thanks to his desire for you and his inability to tell one stupid lie.

His binds dug into his wrists as he tried desperately to free himself, merely tiring himself out with his attempts.

He hated himself for giving up when there needed to be another option that he assumed he was simply too selfish to see, dropping his chin to his chest and weeping loudly. "No, no, nononono, NO!"

He sobbed, feet slamming against the ground as if he could use the momentum to pull his wrists free.

The chair rocked slightly, mocking him, telling him it could break if it wanted to and that it didn't want to, that he was going to have to live with what he let happen to you.

He slumped, panting hard.

A tear, your scream, and blaster shots.

Then there was no sound at all; he looked at the door with empty eyes, trying to hear any little noise he could.

Did they kill you?

And if they did, was it necessarily a bad thing?

He wasn't sure if he would prefer you alive and destroyed or dead and somewhat peaceful.

He was very sure, however, that it killed him for the last time he saw you to be half-knocked out and beaten, restrained in a chair.

The last moment of affection with you, friendly or otherwise, a bloodied kiss from the lips of a man who took advantage of your weakness.

Poe refused to look up when the door squeaked open.

What if he received a blaster shot to the head?

It was always how someone was going to take him out and the only way he'd be free of them now, and he didn't see why he should live when you didn't.

"Poe?" The voice made him tense slightly, raising his gaze until it came to the most handsome face he'd tell everyone he ever saw.

"Finn. Buddy." His words cracked with relief and hope.

And there you were, alive and...clinging to Finn's side, weeping into his shirt.

What was it Poe had been thinking about you being destroyed or peaceful?

Your shirt was torn a little more, but there hadn't been enough time for you to be hurt and that was definitely good.

But was the threat and everything else they'd done too much for you?

"They're dead, but I counted six other guys out there. We can sneak back to the ship if we stay quiet." Finn explained this with you still grasping onto him as he untied Poe's wrists.

"She needs a jacket." And Poe tried to take you from him, wanting to hold you close as if it could erase what had been done to you, but you flinched away.

"Damn, Poe, come on."

"I'm fine, but she needs a med droid."

Finn looked at him like he was crazy, like you were both in need of a med droid, but moved out a back door of the home with the assumption that Poe had enough sense to follow.

He did.

Watching you hold onto Finn to keep from collapsing as the three of you sneaked through the dark towards the Falcon, happy that you were safe now.

And understanding that you clung to Finn out of your newfound hatred for and fear of the man who was the reason you needed to be safe in the first place.

[urlocalbunny]

.collaring - aaron.

i came back from the shadows with another shitty smut, hohoho.

warnings: if you don’t like some verse energy don’t touch it lol there’s no dominant part bc they’re fighting.

1.626 words. enjoy!

THERE WILL BE SOME NOTES IN THE NEXT ONE.

Eloise was in front of a pet shop's register, looking at an older man that could be her grandpa. He had a cute smile on his face.

"Sir, how much does this one cost?" She asked shyly with it in hands. "I want to use my credit card."

He held the product and showed the tag to her. "Is this okay with you, miss?" She nodded. "You must have a big dog. Are you sure you can walk with it? You seem young," he said innocently.

"Ah, yes, it is one big... Dog, indeed. But don't worry, I can do this!" She looked at the black leather spiked collar, the leash that came with it hanging on the shelf. She used the card, and he packed the items, bidding her a cute farewell.

The girl was red and full of guilt, but her feet still rushed home before it was night. On her way, she felt like she was sitting in the parlor, but soon was as if she left in a hurry. Aaron was probably rushing to meet her at the door. The girl winced. As soon as she entered the manor, she heard the quick and heavy steps coming in her direction.

"Where were you?" He asked curiously. "Kinda startled me when I felt you running home like you're mad and feeling extremely guilty." Aaron towered over her, a pleased smile on his pretty face. He was happy to see her. But she knew he was also trying to look at what she was hiding behind her back. "You won't even let me look? You truly are acting weird since last week..."

"No!" She laughed nervously.

He frowned. "What's happening to you?"

"It's Nothing," she squealed. "Why are you acting weird?"

"I'm happy to see you and also curious, is that bad? I'm not going to ask too much since you don't seem to want to talk, though," He held her waist, kissing her lips softly as a 'welcome back' gift. "Did you have a good time?" She nodded and pulled away after a long time, stepping on the stairs, one step at a time, trying to take the damn collar up. "Where are you going?" He asked, suspicious of her.

"To the bathroom. I'm, um, practically peeing on myself!" When she turned around, being careful of the pet shop bag, she saw a horrified Vladimir on the steps.

"Don't stay there looking at me!" He pointed to the hall as if she was going to pee on the floor. She ran for it, locking herself in her room instead.

Eloise sighed in relief, pulling the collar out. Now, it was just a matter of thinking. Would he be offended? How would she dress, how would he react, how would she ask? She hoped he would like it. She grabbed her bathrobe and walked to the bathroom.

The chalice knew that it was not a good idea to take a long bath, but she took it nonetheless.

She finished moisturizing when she felt him wandering around the door. She yelped, covering herself in the bathrobe and running to her room. There was nothing, but the uneasy feeling of not feeling Aaron anywhere made her suspicious. She locked herself in and sat down, looking for the collar and the leash. Finding both where she left them, she finally relaxed, sitting on the bed with her back to the door.

All of a sudden, however, someone rested their chin on her shoulder. It was him.

"So, that's what you were hiding, my beloved?" He looked smug. "A collar?"

"Hey... Aaron. How did you hide from me?" She was now lying on the bed as she got scared for a second. He crawled like a wolf would walk towards his prey, and his hips swung. He tried to cage her like he usually did before he pounced.

"You were so nervous that you didn't even realize I was here." Aaron shrugged. "Who's the pet, my beloved?" He asked, "Is it... Me?" His hand grabbed the collar. "It suits me." He seemed to be having fun with the teasing, but he was also blushing. "Were you trying to find a way to ask me to be your pet?" He said, giving the collar back to her.

"U-uh, yeah, I wanted you to let me put this on you..." She squeaked. "But if you don't want to, it's okay. I don't mean to make you feel bad. You know that, right?" When she lifted her head, he was looking at her as if in a trance. He lowered his head after a good while of intense eye contact.

Eloise slipped the collar on and kissed his head lovingly. He rested his cheek on her chest and nuzzled on her, waiting for her to fix the chain. When she pulled, he more than willingly followed, biting her neck, earning a moan from her.

"Are you going to try to tame me, or am I going to have fun as it is?" By how she opened her legs as much as she could to show him her dripping core and untied the knot in the robe, showing him her boobs, he knew it was all his for as long as he wanted. The thought made a growl rip through his throat. He went for her lips, kissing them passionately, feeling the way her hands clung to the chain and pulled every time he gasped for air. As much as he wanted to have his way, he was going to push her around a little.

"Fuck me, just- skip the foreplay." She whined. He pretended not to listen and lowered his head, ignoring the pulls on the leash. He wanted to see how far she would go without acting like an animal herself. He pulled the robe off, sucking a nipple in and squeezing her other boob. At this point, she already realized what he was trying to do.

His hands gripped her ass, stopping her from pulling his shirt off. She groaned, punching his chest lightly. He went for her other boob, this time, sliding a finger on her slit, collecting a bit of what she had to offer. It was almost too tentative, but he kept going.

"Listen here, you little tease." He smiled, looking at her with, ironically, puppy eyes.

"Don't be mean to me." He said, smiling a stupid little grin she was going to wipe out of his face for sure. Eloise pulled on the chain, crashing her lips against his once more. Her tongue tasted a little bit like iron. He knew the bite she gave him drew blood. She rushed for his shirt, pulling it and tossing it to the side.

This fight went on for several minutes after Aaron was bare, but Eloise wouldn't lose now that he was with the leash on. Their kisses weren't enough, and soon he had two fingers buried inside of her, curling and twisting just the right way. She squeezed his wrist with her hand, trying to make him pump faster, a little quicker than that. But he wouldn't budge. She was getting angry, and if she knew of one thing is that if you're unsatisfied with something, you do whatever it is yourself.

She pushed him to the side roughly, making him beam and show his white fangs. She let out a breathy laugh, straddling him and gripping his length with a firm hand. He sucked a breath in as she pumped him slowly. "That's it... Good, good boy." He growled at that. He was a wolf, not a puppy. That was a warning. She giggled. "You're so cute." He was about to protest, but it turned into a loud moan and unconscious thrusting when Eloise guided him inside her until there was nothing out.

"My, my, you are quiet, puppy. What happened?" Her hips rocked back and forth, and as much as she wanted to keep the strong facade, his dick was too much. She started losing herself just as much as him as soon as she got what she wanted. For a long while, the only sounds they'd make were harsh thrusts, breaths, and the sudden pull of his leash when Eloise felt herself clenching around him too dangerously.

"Stop fucking edging yourself on my cock." He growled, flipping her and speeding up. Her hands pulled on his hair instead of the leash, earning an approving hiss from him "my beloved, I'm telling you..."

"You're so full of warnings, aren't you?" She teased, making him pull her legs to rest on top of his shoulders. His nails scratched her ass when he gripped so tight, and she didn't waste any time in biting his neck. He whined. At this point, her headboard was snapping against the wall. Their moans were too needy, their sex too good to stop. Her first orgasm washed over, making her legs tremble on his shoulders. He looked at her like he was winning.

"God, I don't give a fuck, just- more, more!" He looked smug even when her hands pulled roughly on the leash for a kiss that he would keep as one of his favorites. Her hips moved so nicely under him that his vision was getting blurry.

"Hm, gonna cum, gonna cum." He whined.

"Me too." She squeaked, arching her back prettily for him. Aaron couldn't resist the urge to cum inside her, so that's just what he did.

He kept himself buried to the hilt, a deep groan slipping through his gritted teeth.

The sweethearts laughed when they looked into each other's eyes, feeling their heartbeats speed up again, basking in the high and kissing each other's cheeks and hands as the daylight rose behind the curtains.

[detonizing]

headcanon.

50 headcanon challenge prompted by @bnharpchub​ bc so many people were doing it on dash and my restraint is only so strong 

coming up with 50 new headcanons was so difficult jfc AWOEINAWE i cheated a bit and some of them mention hcs I already wrote about before, but I did my best to focus on a different part of it to give it a new spin so it’s technically new....ish. awoieNAWEIAWNE

he learned how to cook because his parents were always busy and he wasn’t going to just expect them to cook for him when he could just do it himself ( he learned a whole LOT of things because he realized he could just do it himself )

he doesn’t usually keep things for sentiment reasons. there ARE a few exceptions, but for the most part if it’s important enough to remember he’ll just simply remember it 

he likes the view from up high. mountain climbing really made him aware of that, and it was a part of the reason why he wanted to learn how to fly ( that, and just the fact of it being practical, using his quirk to enhance movement ) 

sometimes puts on a clear coat of nail strengthening polish during weeks of particular harsh training. he would put on coloured polish too, but they often get ruined very quickly because of how much he uses his hands and so he doesn’t see the point to do it often 

his sweat isn’t actually toxic ( mostly bc I do NOT want to deal with all the problems having toxic sweat would cause, but there is more to it that I’ll write in depth of another day when I’m less lazy ) 

His volume is one of the few ways he feels like he can be heard. His mother is also a very loud person, and growing up he would be stuck in situations where if he doesn’t yell LOUDER, he won’t be heard. If he is WILLINGLY quiet around you, that is a sign of trust, a sign that he’s comfortable enough to not feel the need to be loud. 

he cannot stand his mouth being covered, nor does he take well to being told to keep quiet. He GETS that not many people appreciate his loudness. He KNOWS there is always time and place. But being loud is a defensive mechanism, and it being taken away against his will just messes with him a lot. 

speaking of, a large part of why he got the ‘i dont give a fuck about anyone else’ attitude is because no one would really care about him. It wasn’t just because he had a big head. He was acutely aware that people around him would praise him and rise him up, but never actually listen to him or cared what he wants. Why should he care about other people if no one gave a fuck about him? ( he knows better now )

he’s cautious about giving villains second chances. it’s not like he’s against giving villains a chance at redemption ( he knows he’d be a fucking hypocrite if he was ) but he also is realistic, and knows that some people are just shitheads and will refuse to change no matter what. knows that some people will take advantage of people with bleeding hearts ( cOUGHS like dEKU’s COUGHS ) and so he’s just. very wary and distrusting. he’ll give you a chance, but he’s going to watch you during it. 

if the ranking system of heroes gets abolished, it won’t really affect Katsuki’s goals. from the start when he says ‘number one hero’ what he cares most about is being number one by HIS standards. ofc he was planning to get ranked number one too, but if such a system falls apart, he’d just make sure he becomes the Best till no one can argue against it either way 

katsuki has always used his quirk often. he hates rules regulating quirk use because it’s so stupid to him. how the hell was he going to become number one if he didn’t know how to use his own damn quirk? ofc he still tried to abide by the law well enough, in public refraining for the most part ( but his middle school very obviously was super lacking in discipline so he just didn’t bother hiding his usage of quirk there )

his quirk acts up when he has high emotion — but MOST of the time, that is less him losing control and more of a conscious decision on his part. resisting the urge to explode when his body is aching to is dangerous, so it’s better to let loose small, controlled, explosions when the time comes. He works hard to keep control of his quirk, he knows when it’s best to just let explosions loose and when he can hold it in

even without explosions he has a habit of his fingers twisting or fist clenching when he’s high strung. restricting his hands in any way, esp during these times, are an absolute no for him. he WILL react violently if you take away his only method of physically defending himself. 

the reason why he NEEDS to be able to defend himself at all times comes from his lack of trust. He doesn’t WANT to rely on other people, because they could mess up so it’s just better to do it himself. so if people try and stop him from doing it himself.... just nope. 

he’s so so so SO bad at accepting compliments. he’s used to empty meaningless compliments, praise for things he didn’t even earn, so getting actual compliments that are WORTH something. it’s. a lot. he doesn’t know how to properly handle it yet so his first reaction is to reject it somehow ( either by telling the person they are being an idiot, or finding fault in the compliment itself, or something along those lines ) 

he has a base respect for pro heroes in general, because he understands that they have experience he is obviously lacking being a student. but he won’t be blinded by their status. if they fuck up, they fuck up and no ‘hero’ status will keep him from recognizing that 

he doesn’t actually hate quirkless people. he never really has. he had a problem with DEKU, but not exactly quirkless people in general. he started calling Izuku as “Deku” before he knew that he would never get a quirk. He called him ‘deku’ because izuku would fail at bouncing a ball or skipping stones and such ( back then, almost ALL people were ‘useless’ to him, not just quirkless people aoweinaoweianwe ) 

he as sharp teeth. not enough to be called fangs or anything, but they are definitely sharper than average ( he’s a little gremlin so I must give him sharp teeth ) 

he’s still struggling to ask for help. he can easily admit that he needs backup when it comes to hero works — knows that teamwork is essential at times and saving and BEING saved in turn is how being a hero is. BUT for PERSONAL things? Outside of being a hero? As a person??? He doesn’t know HOW to ask for help with that. 

He’s ALWAYS been super independent. so people just. expect him to be fine on his own. HE himself expected to be fine on his own. But by the time he realized wait no, I’m not fine. People stopped trying to check up on him. ( until U.A., but then old habits die hard. but he’s learning ) 

he tends to shower at night more than in the mornings, because he often works out not too long before bed. he also just takes more than one shower a day if needed ofc he takes hygiene seriously

he HATES when he can’t get a full night’s sleep. And sadly ever since getting kidnapped it’s been happening more and more often. he’s unused to functioning without a full eight or nine hours, so he gets cranky all day and feels fucking awful. He used to hate naps, felt like a waste of his day, but they’ve become a bit of a necessity with how shit his sleeping pattern has become. ( plus jordyn’s shoto has shown him the wonders of napping aowienawe ) 

he doesn’t take long to get ready in the morning. even if he needs to dress differently for an occasion or anything, he doesn’t spend long trying to decide what to wear

his quirk isn’t affected by rain or water like people would expect, but it’s fucking COLD so he still hates getting wet

he’s really good at fighting even without his quirk. he absolutely has thought of situations where he couldn’t use his quirk to full capacity, and so he decided he needed to kick ass even without it

he’s really level-headed in battle!!! despite how he acts, he ALWAYS considers all options and acts on the best one. He just thinks really fast and acts the way he does so it SEEMS like he’s charging in without thinking ahead. That being said, he used to often underestimate his opponents so he’d sometimes make the wrong call. He’s getting MUCH better at not doing that lately tho

he doesn’t really celebrate his own birthday. he gets well wishes from his family, often they’d get a cake maybe, but he doesn’t really WANT or NEED presents, so he had his parents stop trying to gift him things years ago. His birthday is SUPER close to the beginning of the year, so it is often times overlooked by his peers too, but he doesn’t care

Katsuki is demisexual!! He can recognize when people are traditionally attractive, but he doesn’t really fucking care and isn’t attracted TO them. It’s only once they’ve become someone he actually CARES about could he then develop any feelings beyond platonic ones ( no love at first sight here )

he’d NEVER pick up smoking, and even when of age he’d very rarely drink. He wouldn’t want his health to deteriorate by stuff like that. And he wouldn’t want his ability to think be hindered by alcohol

he doesn’t like lying unless for good reason ( like hiding ofa ) but he doesn’t see lying by omission as the same. To him, that’s just him deciding it’s no one’s business and so there’s no need for him to admit to anything

people have tried to bully him as a kid. we’ve seen him chase off older kids in canon before. It wasn’t just a one time thing. It was pretty constant, actually. Other kids, usually those older than him, would hear about him and his attitude and try and ‘put him in his place’ It’s not like he was very popular as a kid, it’s just that Katsuki always WON any fights so no one could actually do anything to him

his nicknames, for the most part, aren’t actually meant to be insulting. Besides like Deku, and when he called Todoroki “holding back bastard”, the rest are just,,, descriptions in his mind aowienAWE ThEY ARE RUDE AF but he doesn’t actually seek out the rudest name he can think of to call people. It’s just whatever comes to mind first

he doesn’t actually mind when people call him out on his shit anymore. he’d in fact admit that they have guts to do so. If they try and call him out on BULLSHIT though, then he’d get angry bc they are just wasting his goddamn time. 

he KNOWS when his classmates are purposefully manipulating him to doing something by phrasing it as a challenge. It’s just he doesn’t give a shit, he’ll rise to the challenge anyways and prove them all WRONG. 

If he really doesn’t wanna do something, there’s absolutely nothing that could get him to do it 

his way of SHOWING that he cares is through actions and gifts. Doing things for people ( studying, cooking, etc ) that he cares about comes naturally to him

On the contrary, he struggles to process it when people try and show that they care the same way. He doesn’t like getting gifts, and he rather do the things he needs to himself??? The easiest way he can understand people showing that they care is through quality time. If you are willing to spend time with him, seek him out? He can get that means you WANT to. ( if this is proven wrong it’d shake his entire acceptance in that person. he’d struggle to believe that they care for him at all in any way after ) 

once you broke his trust, it’s impossible to gain it back. he DOESNT trust easily. he takes so many careful measures to prevent himself from trusting the wrong person. if he gave you his trust you better fucking treasure it, because it’s only given out once. That being said, there are different levels of trust that katsuki gives out — as seen on his relationship page. Level two trust is when it starts getting serious. If you have that, that’s when if broken it’s unfixable. Level one trust is a toss up if broken, very dependent on situation

soft smiles are hard to come by from katsuki! We’ve all seen his confident grins in the face of danger all the time — he smiles a lot during challenges and battle!! But soft ones? Full of fondness and love? They are pretty rare. And even when they DO happen, often it’s only when no one can see

His EYES are actually what turns soft first!! You have a better chance catching his eyes and eyebrows turn a bit less aggressive, but again they aren’t exactly common per say. He doesn’t like showing such expression unless he feels like attention is off him. ( he just. isn’t USED to expressing himself this way. so he doesn’t really like when people draw attention to when he does. because it makes him feel like he did something wrong, in a way )

it’s actually easy to make katsuki flustered and embarrassed. he’S not uSED to it so he’s weak let him live aowieNAWE his ears are the first to turn red!!! but if you really get him embarrassed he does go completely red sorry kats

he does all of his homework well in advance. he hates leaving ANYTHING to the last minute, really

he’s done modeling work as a kid. sometimes he still does, but very rarely. He doesn’t exactly hate doing it, but he just isn’t the least bit interested so he rather spend his time doing something else. When he does do it, you bet he takes it 100% seriously.

he won’t argue if someone calls him a shit person. he knows that he is, and he refuses to deny that. what DOES piss him off though is when people solely focus on how shit of a person he is to the extend of disregarding the perfect results he gives. He’s a shit person, but he’s still the BEST and fuck anyone who says otherwise.

he also knows that he is changing, because it’s a conscious effort on his part TO change. But that’s also the thing. He’s working hard to not be shitty ALL the time, but that doesn’t change the fact that at his core, he’s still not a NICE person. he’s acutely aware that the things he struggles so much with, comes so easy to other people. He wont let this STOP him , he’s never called it quits before just because something was difficult for him, but it still sucks. knowing just how much effort he’s putting into this when some people barely think about it at all

katsuki was well versed in medical knowledge even before U.A. Not because he was thinking about how heroes may need to give emergency care on the field, but just from his own injuries during self training. he needed to know how to treat them properly so it doesn’t cause him problems in the future 

katsuki runs hot, but he gets cold easily. Because he’s used to keeping himself running at high temperatures, his concept of cold is different than most other’s. Suddenly being in like sixty five degrees Fahrenheit feels COLD to him

intended use for furniture are only suggestions. That means yes, he WILL sit on top of desks and counters, stand on top of chairs, and put his feet on the bed while he lays on the floor if he so goddamn chooses. 

no matter how close with a person he is, he’ll eventually need time alone and his personal space left untouched. It takes a lot to get to the point where physical touch is something he’d allow, ( having both touch starvation and touch aversion in equal parts ) but even with people he is completely comfortable with, sometimes it still gets to be TOO mUCH and he needs to step back. he has bad days, too. where just a brush of contact would set him off and he can’t understand himself why it happens. all he knows is that he really hates those days.

it still stings, the knowledge that All Might never even considered him for a possible successor. he was RIGHT THERE when all might picked izuku, after all. and all might can say all he wants about how ‘he was already powerful, he wanted to give midoriya a fighting chance’ or whatever. he knows he was never a contender. it’s not that he WANTS ofa though. he is perfectly happy with his quirk. It’s not even that it’s deku who ended up getting it, he in retrospect is glad deku can fight him now. It’s just. in the end, he’s always always lacking something. it just fuels to his belief of never being good enough when it counts. because HE is NEVER anyone’s first choice to be the up and coming number one. He’s GOING to be. He’ll prove EVERYONE wrong. But, it sure would be nice. Someone else believing in him, too.

[unstoppableforcce]

a fragile alliance

no request- just something i had, poe with a first order ! reader.

Poe Dameron x reader !

this is something I wrote a very long time ago, so no TROS spoilers but def more to come if y’all want. it’s angst. it’s pure angst. bc I excell at that.

“Black leader, you see that?” A voice came over on the crackling radio in his ear. And he did. How could he miss it?

The small black single rider plane that every resistance member was told to watch out for, the one containing one of the most feared members of the First Order, you, plummeting to the surface of the small jungle planet. If they could take you out, it would be the biggest leg up on the first order they’d have in while. A sense of pride even surged within the Commander, you had a lengthy history with the First Order, leaving a trail of bodies in your wake. But the voice in his ear said differently.

“Commander Dameron, you are to take a unit to the surface of Bluscant, search for the remains of that ship, take any survivors into custody for interrogation.” The orders were orders, but he despised them. 

They deserved to be left to suffer. He shot you down, he thought you deserved to stay there. 

“Yes, sir,” Dameron responded before ordering his men to the surface with him.

They parked outside the jungle, watching as the smoke from the crash raised higher into the sky. Poe order two men to stay at the ship and another two to follow him, all the way until they reached the crash site.

It was a short hike to get there from the clearing where they parked, but soon they saw the crashed plane. The whole thing was on fire and he hoped you were inside. He didn’t normally see such red but he couldn’t escape it now. 

He wasn’t that lucky, however. While the ship burned plumes of smoke, he spotted a stormtrooper body laying just outside the wreck. 

You were laying up against the side of the crater, hand gripping your side to keep your insides where they belonged given the significant wound that sliced you. Another gash about your forehead, spilling blood down your face. Yet you managed to keep a strong grip on your blaster with your free hand, unconscious but holding tight. 

All of the movement around was all it took to wake you, barely shaking you from your blurry consciousness, but enough for you to feebly attempt to lift your blaster in defense. You barely got it a centimeter off the ground before groaning, a violent stream of pain shooting through you. He kicked it from your hand before you had the opportunity to try again. 

“Base wants us to bring back survivors.” His Lieutenant quickly reminded him. And he very clearly needed him to remember. Because all Poe wanted to do was leave you stranded to die.

“Yeah. Patch her up, and cuff her.” He ordered while rubbing over his face.

“Are cuffs really necessary?” The other man questioned as he kneeled next to you, pressing two fingers to your throat for a pulse, faint but there. 

“She’s got a kill count in the thousands. I wouldn’t take my chances.” Poe argued, crossing his arms over his chest. It may have been an overstatement, but it certainly didn’t feel like it.

The number of reports he had read with her name on the cover. 

“283-3” You muttered out groggily, catching his attention briefly. 

“What?” He questioned, stepping closer but not getting in the way of his two counterparts who were patching you up for the trip home.

“Is he dead?” You finally murmured with enough strength to be heard. Poe could only assume you were referring to your stormtrooper, the one nearest the crash. The dead one. 

“Yeah.” 

Your eyes clenched with pain through the entire procedure, but something in your disposition changed as you hear the news. Slightly more distressed, and he couldn't figure out why.

“I tried- I” The lieutenant administered the sedative, trying to avoid the shock of pain killing you before they could get you back. But he knew what you were trying for. You were trying to say that you tried to save him. He couldn't decide whether it was notable or not given the record she had. The pain in his heart ultimately told him it wasn’t.

“Will she make it back to base?” Poe questioned, kneeling next to them as they pressed the bacta patch to your stomach and wiped the blood from your face.

“If she’s lucky.” One responded and Poe had to hold back a staunch laugh in response.

“We should just kill her,” He shook his head and pulled away, leaving them to carry her back. There wasn’t much in the way of bloody vengeance in his soul, just enough for you.

When they landed back on base, you were taken to the med bay much to Poe’s dismay. He knew who you were. A commander, like himself. Specialized in hand to hand combat, a spy, but not lost around a tie fighter. You surely ordered the deaths of thousands of men and probably killed hundreds with your own hands, or at least that was what it felt like from where he was standing. And Poe was ordered to rescue you so they could gain any intelligence from you. It was probably useless, no way you would give anything up but they’d try, keep you alive for months longer than you deserved.

He left his debrief and headed straight to the medical center, knowing you would be in there, and if you were awake, he needed to talk to you, he needed closure. 

Even if Leia ordered him to get some rest, that she’d send someone to interrogate her in a little bit.

The nurse pointed him to your room without him even having to ask, they all knew.

And when he walked into the room, he was prepared to get what he needed and then kill you, no matter the consequences. Leia could demote him, hell, she could kick him out of the resistance, but if he got this closure, it would all be worth it.

It had to be.

Yet you laid there so innocently. The nurses had cleaned the dirt and grime from your face and hair, the cut above your eye had been healed, and you even looked comfortable under the plush blanket. Even if your hands were cuffed to the bed.

His fingers twitched at his side, aching to grab his blaster and just end it all now but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He needed you to admit to it. He wasn’t a killer, but he would do what’s just, it’s what you deserve. So he called a nurse back in and ordered her to wake you up, and without any objections, she did. They all knew, and not a single one disagreed. 

Minutes later, your eyes fluttered open so peacefully and he couldn’t stand to watch it, he had to turn away briefly to compose himself. Until you began groaning. Your breath was caught in your throat, preventing a scream in pain. Hands clenched into tight fists, nails digging into your palms, the pain overtaking you all at once. It seemed like the doctors were just as bitter as he was.

But then something in your disposition shifted, you began to laugh instead of scream, and your hands released. Heavy breathing took over now as your eyes quickly scanned the room, frantic almost, and as they landed on him, you finally began to understand.

“Long time, Captain.” You squeezed out. The chuckle was rough as it escaped your lips, eyes squeezing shut as your head leaned back against the pillow.  

“Its Commander now.” He choked out, hands clenching, heart pounding.

His blaster was right there.

“Congrats.” It was almost a genuine smile, but it distorted to a smirk as you locked your eyes back with his. 

“Don’t congratulate me, I should kill you.” He added, taking a few steps towards closer until his thighs hit the foot of the bed.

“Do it. You won’t.” You scoffed, “you wouldn’t dare disobey an order, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be here.”

“After everything you’ve done-“

“I deserve to suffer. I deserve to be tortured. I deserve your worst. I don’t deserve to die and you know that, the resistance wouldn’t let me off that easy.” You argued back easily, even if your chest was still heaving with every breath. He couldn't deny that he was watching it, a part of him hoping it would stop.

Tears brimmed at his eyes no matter how hard he fought to keep them down. “I don’t care about the resistance.” 

“Then what are you here for?”

“You killed Finn.” He choked out, not in control of his emotions any longer. He rounded the bed, took two more steps forward, and began pointing in your face as he seethed, “You killed him.”

But your face didn’t twist to that of a proud First Order Commander who would relish in a successful kill. It twisted into confusion, pure confusion. Brows furrowing and head quirking slightly to the side, only serving to raise the heat in his chest. 

“FN- 2187?” You asked, trying to sit up despite the pain flooding your body and warning you against it. 

“You killed him, I watched it.”

“I didn’t kill him.” It was a plead, genuine concern in your eyes that he couldn't understand. You were fighting against the restraints, leaning into his now shaking finger of accusation. 

“I saw you do it, the whole galaxy saw it.”

“I didn’t kill him. Dameron, I have killed a lot of people, I didn’t kill him.” You shouted back with the same volume he used, defensive, truly defensive. 

“The first order broadcasted his execution across the whole galaxy, do you think I’m an idiot, I watched you kill him.” He shouted but pulled back when he watched you flinch. 

You couldn’t form a sentence fast enough, not by the time the curtains behind him ripped open and two soldiers grabbed him by the arm and pulled him fighting from the room. He needed closure, he needed an answer. He would fight but they only pulled him farther back. 

“He’s alive.” The words left your lips just as the curtains fell shut between the two of you. He wanted to hear more, to see more-

And soon he was tossed to the ground on his knees in front of Leia herself. 

“I told you to go get rest, that I’d send an interrogator in.” She said but he wasn’t there. His body was physically on the floor but his mind was elsewhere, he was replaying Finn’s death over and over again in his head.

He saw the alert go out that the first order had a special broadcast, and when the image flashed up in the command center, he just about collapsed on the floor. Finn, on his knees, surrounded by stormtroopers and officers. In front of him stood Kylo Ren, General Hux and You. Dressed in all black, not completely covered like Ren and Hux were, but somehow just as intimidating. Your hair pulled back so he could see your face painfully clear. An image that haunted him at night.

And then Hux said, “No traitor shall go unpunished...” and continued on into a vehement hate-speech about the First Order’s dominance in the galaxy. But Poe only stared at Finn. He was forced on his knees, hands behind his back, still wearing the jacket he gave him. He tried to stay strong, to not let them win, but he was scared, Poe could see it. And as soon as his speech ended, she was ordered to execute the “bloody traitor.”

Stepping forward, you pulled a large electrically surging sword from your holster, and within seconds, you spun and his head hit the ground.

Poe screamed, a raw, guttural scream as he saw it happen, and none of the officers around him cared because they saw the pain, they felt the pain. And Finn, who they all regarded as a hero, was brutally murdered by you, a nightmare-like extension of the first order.

And now you were saying you didn’t kill him when he saw you do it. And now you were saying he was alive when he saw his head off his body.

“... Poe. She’s messing with you. She knows that she can target your emotions and you’re just giving her power over you.” Leia soothed but Poe hardly heard it. What did you mean he was still alive.

“What if he’s alive?”

“He’s not Poe, we watched it happen.”

“She said he’s alive.”

“She’s a First Order member, she is trained to deceive you, to mess with you, she is the enemy Poe, she just wants to get you off your game,” Leia explained but Poe couldn’t pay attention to her, too lost in his own thoughts.

“If he’s alive, I need to find him.”

“He’s not alive Poe, we both know that,” Leia finalized as he finally rose to his feet. “She’s lying to get a rise out of you.”

“She seemed genuine.”

“She’s a spy.”

“If he’s alive-“

“He can’t be Poe,” Leia said exhaustedly before ordering Poe to be sent to his room, he was too out of it to protest at this point and just complied.

But if it was true, how could he ignore it.

Leia couldn’t keep him away.

Over the next two weeks, you began to heal up and Leia began to send in interrogators but you merely mocked them. They didn’t need to torture you, Leia knew it wouldn’t work, you weren’t going to break like that, so she just tried getting information from you in regular conversation. Still, no avail. 

You wouldn’t give up anything useful, besides who did Hux’s laundry.

A stormtrooper, called AT- 8745. He read it in a report.

Poe knew you weren’t going to give anything useful.

But you had been willing to talk about Finn last time he tried. And no matter what the general said, he needed to try again.

He got a few looks as he snuck into the holding cells but people thought he was meant to be there, so they never said anything about it.

He typed in the code with shaking hands, not nervous but surging with the adrenaline that knowing he was going against orders that the General gave him. The door was heavy but he pushed it open quickly, too eager to hesitate.

You laid out on the bed, well not a bed but a metallic slab with no blanket or pillow, across the room from the door. One knee bent up and both hands beneath your head, staring at the ceiling, you almost looked dead given how you barely moved. A single chair sat in the middle of the room, too close, he thought, to your bed for the council to have allowed Leia to interrogate you from.

But he spotted the glimmer of the forcefield in between the two halves of the room, keeping them separate.

You didn’t look up upon hearing him enter, not moving besides adjusting briefly to lay a hand over your stomach defensively.

“I expected you eventually, figured that Leia had finally run out of options.” You noted from the bed, knowing it was him without seeing him. He didn’t waste any time being impressed. 

“She doesn’t know I’m here.”

That got your attention. You turned towards where he stood by the wall, no different than the last time you saw him, if anything, he only looked more exhausted. 

You groaned, pain rushing through you as you sat up on the bed but he made no move to sit down, he just hovered by the door.

“Why are you here?”

“You know why.”

“He is alive, I have no reason to lie to you about that.” You argued, walking towards the barrier, but stopping right in front of it. He wondered how many times you walked into it before realizing it was there, he could tell it was at least once given the hesitancy you took towards it. 

“Explain why.”

“He could be reprogrammed and valuable, but in order to get you to stop investigating, Hux needed you to think him dead.” It wasn’t curiosity or even a fascination, but you lifted one hand to the barrier and played along the light blue glow that radiated as you got close. It almost felt like boredom, and it pissed him off. “Drop the barrier and I’ll tell you more.”

He considered it for a second longer than he should have. It should have been a quick no but it wasn’t. But it also wasn’t a yes, he just backed away from the panel and to the barrier so that he could stand face to face with you. 

“Where is he now?”

“Drop the barrier.”

“If I do, you’ll escape, and won’t tell me what I need to know.”

“I also won’t tell you what you need to know with it up.”

He walked back over to the control panel on the wall and opened the door, pulling his blaster from the holster and dropping it outside. Then he locked the door shut, using his handprint to secure it. Only after all of that, did he make a move to lower the barrier.

Everything within him told him not to, but he needed to know. You were injured and manipulative and he needed to know. 

You didn’t charge at him like he expected. He didn’t have any weapons on him anymore so he wasn’t too worried about being overtaken and immediately killed, but he couldn’t trust you, not for a second.

“He’s in the reprogramming plant on Plutarch.”

“Plutarch?”

“A moon in the Ghevner circuit. Kylo Ren took control of it for the first order several years ago. Since then, it’s become a brainwashing stormtrooper factory.” You explained, now walking towards him, hesitantly as you passed where the barrier had been, but faster once you cleared it. 

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“Armitage. He made me into a liar when he broadcasted that clip. I’m not a liar.” There was almost a playfulness to your voice, it set him on edge in a way he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. 

“Just a murderer?” He tipped his chin, but you didn’t seem all that offended. 

“No one’s perfect.” The joke came out deadpan as you stopped just in front of him, your serious face never changing now that it was on. “Look, from what I’ve heard, he’s been resisting reprogramming, if you could get to him, you’d have a good chance of getting him back.”

He didn’t understand, he felt a tug on his heartstring and he didn’t understand. 

“Why are you telling me all this?”

You scoffed, the sensation crackling through your body as you shrugged. “You think so little of me.”

“You’ve given me reasons.”

“They pay me better than you guys would. That’s all it is. I do dirty work, sure, but if you paid more, I’d do that dirty work for you. It’s not about morality for me, sorry.” You sighed, hands folding in front of you. 

“So you’re a murderer in it for the money but a good person?”

“I think the question you should be asking is why would I want the barrier down if I planned to tell you everything anyway?” You added. It was just ominous to push him over the edge, but you were faster. 

One elbow, straight to the face and he was on the ground in a second. Not unconscious, head stinging with pain, but still barely conscious against the cold concrete. 

“Now you’re going to get me out of here.”