#but i think these are a solid step in the right direction

[blazeeblake]

Unsettling

Inspired by this post. I wrote this late at night, zoning out on cold medicine while attempting to recover from a booster shot, so I can’t vouch for the quality 😅:

Dinner had been going great as far as Buck could tell. He and Tommy were still in the figuring it out stage of things, but a meal with Chim and Maddie felt like a step in the right direction; at least, up until the moment his sister unsuspectingly guided the conversation into a minefield.

“So, Tommy,” she began between bites of salad, “I have to say, I was really surprised when my brother told me about your date — not so much in terms of the pronouns of it all, but because the way he told it, you were way more focused on Eddie when you two met.”

Tommy shrugged, pushing around the remainders of his own plate, “Course correction’s a skill you hone when you’re tangling with baby gays— not that I’m sure Eddie even counts in that department. At this rate he’s essentially embryonic. Like, indefinitely.” Maddie cocked her head to the side, whatever follow up she may have had fading away into a loaded silence that descended over the room.

“H-huh,” Chimney chuckled unevenly, “well, uh, I don’t want to speak for anyone that’s not here but I’m pretty sure—“

“Wait,” Buck interrupted, brows knitting together, “You were trying to date Eddie?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tommy replied, as if it was painfully obvious, “At least, until I realized where things stood with him, and then I—

“Course corrected?” Buck finished, “With me. Your second choice.”

“Oh, like I’m not your second choice. Seriously, Evan, don’t be dramatic.”

“Maddie, honey,” Chimney broke in, rising out of his seat, “why don’t we go get dessert ready?”

“Ready?” Maddie repeated, eyes darting between her brother and his date, “It’s already—“

“What are you talking about?” Buck pressed, far too preoccupied with his burgeoning confusion to notice Chimney coaxing his quietly protesting sister out of the room.

Tommy rolled his eyes, pointedly setting his fork down, “Oh come on. Eddie’s on a special level of oblivious— and I mean, no surprise there, Catholicism builds its closets nice and sturdy— but you can’t expect me to believe you’re just as clueless, Mr. Trying to get my attention by pulling another boy’s pigtails.”

“Wha— No,” Buck sputtered, his breath hitching strangely and tripping him up, “Th-that wasn’t about Eddie. He’s not even— and even if he was, we’re not… I mean, we wouldn’t.”

“Right, because you’re scared it would burst the little bubble you two live in where you can have your cake and call it normal friendship,” Tommy concluded, his tone once again gratingly matter of fact, “Face it. A relationship with Eddie is heavy lifting from any angle, so we both opted out for each other, no harm, no foul.” Buck blinked, momentarily stunned into silence as his mind tried and failed to construct a solid counter to the conclusion Tommy had all but thrown in his face. All of it made sense, perhaps more sense than the raw foundations of yet another relationship built on someone else’s initiative and his own need to reach for any degree of being wanted, no matter how scant. The truth of it all stung and made his heart beat faster than he could stand, but at the same time there was something freeing in all that chaos.

“He’s not,” Buck managed softly.

“Gay?” Tommy replied, “Right, and Elton John just needs to meet the right girl.”

Buck shook his head, “No, I mean, he’s not heavy lifting or whatever you said. If you think that, you don’t know him at all— a-and maybe you don’t know me either if you think I’d feel that way.”

“Ev—“

“It’s Buck. And if all of this was settling then I guess you were right the first time: I’m not ready.” Tommy eyed him for a beat before sighing and pushing his chair back from the table.

“At least you’re consistent,” he said as he stood and began making his way to the front door, “A little slow on the draw but still miles more self aware than your buddy. I’d say good luck pulling him out of Narnia, but I’m not gonna hold my breath.” Buck didn’t respond, instead opting to drop his gaze to the floor and let his racing thoughts drown out his surroundings until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m guessing you heard all that?” He asked.

“Sorry,” Maddie said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, “The acoustics down here are pretty unforgiving, privacy-wise.

“Sorry I ruined dinner,” he muttered.

“Technically,” Maddie reasoned, “I started it, so—-“

“I vote we blame no Buckley or Hans ,” Chimney said, dropping into the seat Tommy had vacated, “and we call this a win because screw that guy. I’m all for second chances but that dude’s practically on his fourth and he just keeps blowing it.”

“What am i supposed to do now?” Buck asked, turning to look up at his sister.

Maddie offered him a small, tight-lipped smile, “it’s like I said before: whatever you need to do, you’ll do it in your own time.”

“Right, but what if I screw it all up? He’s going through so much right now already and I don’t want to be one more thing he has to deal with.”

“I mean, maybe him going through things is the silver lining, you know? He’s figuring out his future and there’s room for you to work out where—not if— you fit in all of that. Because, for what it’s worth, I can’t picture a scenario where you two don’t figure it out. I can’t promise it’ll go the way you want it to, but I think you owe it to each other to talk.”

Chimney nodded, “As a daily witness to you guys being… well, you, I second that. And who knows? Maybe it all does work out. You communicate instead of fighting in a supermarket or shoving each other on a basketball court, and before you know it, you’re up close and personal with that glorious mustache of his.”

“Oh, Howie,” Maddie scoffed, “that mustache is definitely just a phase. One that maybe proves my point, but a phase nonetheless.”

“You bite your tongue. It’s beautiful and here to stay.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something you need to tell Eddie? Or, his facial hair?”

For the second time that evening, Buck let the conversation fade into the background of his thoughts; or rather, the one thought that all the rest had melded into.

He loved Eddie—was in love with Eddie— and as terrifying as it was, the truth of it loomed too large to be reburied or ignored. He didn’t know if time and talking were the remedies his family made them out to be, but if there was any chance at all in them, he was stubborn enough to find out. The way he saw it, he’d practically been holding his breath all this time without knowing anyway, so what was a little while longer if it meant Eddie at the finish line? Unlike a certain helicopter pilot, Buck had the stamina not to settle.

[ellecdc]

Rosier Twin Microfic

CW: untrue anatomy and physiology of earth worms, cruelty to earth worms, the general oddities that are the Rosier twins

Evan was exploring the grounds of the manor in search of his sister under the direction of their mother.

He found he didn’t mind all that much; the green of the trees and grass, the blue of the sky, and the pinks and reds of the flowers in the garden were all a welcome reprieve from the sad, dull grey and beige that ‘decorated’ the inside of their familial home.

That is, he hadn’t minded until he found himself sinking up to nearly his knees in loose soil as Pandora materialized from behind some shrubs.

“Evan! What have you done?” She chastised, not looking at her brother but rather where the bottom half of his legs had disappeared.

“What have I done?” Evan shot back incredulously. “What the hells is this?”

Pandora simply let out a displeased huff as she dropped her gardening spade and moved to help pull her brother out of the earth.

“You’re standing on my worms.” She admonished as he finally stepped onto solid ground, sure enough brushing loose soil and earth worms from his professionally tailored trousers and dragon-hide boots.

“What in Salazar’s name are you doing with a colony of earth worms?” He all but sneered at his sister who barely spared him a glance, though her face read ‘I can’t believe you asked such a ridiculous question’.

“The worms are good for the soil.” Pandora responded simply. “After the trouble the Honking Daffodils had with the gnome infestation, I figured they could use all the help they could get.”

Evan turned to survey the space; the worms did seem to be attempting to make their way towards the vegetation, though he really thought they’d be more effective coming from both sides of the plant.

“You ought to put some to the right of the plants, too, Panda.”

“I could only find fifty on the grounds, I don’t want to separate them from their family members.”

Evan fought the urge to roll his eyes as he bent down and dug a worm from the loose soil. “You know that you can cut them in half, right? Then you’d have twice as many and can establish colonies on either side.”

The expression on Pandora’s face told Evan she was warring with the side of her that hated the idea of chopping up living beings and the side of her that valued experimentation.

With one look in her brothers direction, Evan knew the decision she’d come to in her mind.

“I…don’t think I can cut the worms, Ev.”

So, that’s how both Evan and Pandora found themselves being scolded by their mother for being late for dinner (and rather filthy) as Evan spent the rest of the late afternoon cutting up earth worms for his twin sister.

[multi-lefaiye]

oh yeah i never did share the results of my mouse drawing adventures the other day, did i? anyway. some gas station people.

jack, jerry, and rosa, drawn in my new designs for them but in very limited color palettes b/c i was truly just vibing. i wanna do some more characters soon, bc this style is really.... hitting for me, in a very good way. this is a return to form in many ways.

art taglist: @skitzo-kero @anexor @jezifster @chaieyestea @kk7-rbs @invaderskoodge @moonflowerrss @albatris @lychniscitrus @abysslll @transmasc-wizard @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @approximately20eggs @astral-runic @whonsper @rosesandartss

[tightjeansjavi]

warm me up

A/N: the voices won this round! @strang3lov3 & @speckledemerald also, this was my first time writing game!joel 👀 this could also be show!joel if that's what you're into! This fic really got away from me today and I didn't think it would be nearly as long as I planned it to be..but that's just sometimes how things work out 😉 huge thank u to Bug for making me this cute lil mood board and I LOVE the deers!!🤍

~word count: 3.3k~

Summary: while on patrol, you and Joel find yourselves caught in a treacherous snowstorm.

Pairing I game!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: smut (explicit & implicit) enemies to lovers, implied age gap (non-specific) consent, cock warming, one sleeping bag trope, close proximity, using one's body warmth for survival, denial of feelings, mean!joel, grumpy!joel, reader is a spitfire and gets under Joel's skin easily, joel has a big cock! He is a big big man! teasing, banter, sexual tension, fluff, foul language, pet names: (darlin, sweetheart, and princess) reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!

Joel is freezing, shaking like a goddamn leaf. It’s ironic, given his disposition. You should have tried to retrace your steps back to Jackson hours ago, but the winter was unforgiving, and the two of you have found yourselves in a real pickle; a frozen one.

“I told you that we were going to end up getting lost out here, Joel.” You grumble alongside him with your arms crossed over your chest. Your teeth are chattering, and it’s grinding his gears.

“We ain’t fuckin’ lost, sweetheart.” He gruffs back and adjusts his rifle strap along his shoulder. “I know where I’m goin.’”

You scoff at this because if he did know where he was going, you wouldn’t be fucking lost in a fucking blizzard right now!

“Right. I’m sure you do know where you’re going, Joel.” You mutter sarcastically under your breath.

He whips around to face you, cheeks speckled in red from the cold and even in the lowlight, you can see individual snowflakes sticking to his lashes.

“Alright, miss ‘I know everything.’ Which way do you think we should go?” He awaits your answer with a cocked brow and his lips pursed together. They’re severely cracked and on the verge of bleeding from the bitter cold.

“Not the direction we’re currently headed, that’s for damn sure! Let’s just fucking turn around and retrace our steps.” You bite back and watch the way that his jaw ticks from your tone. God, you’re a real thorn in this man’s side.

“Retrace our steps?” He laughs, shaking his head to the side and sucks in a harsh cold breath of air into his lungs. “The snow has covered up our tracks, you idiot.” He’s so fucking condescending, and you’ve just about had enough with his shit attitude for one day. Your blood is positively boiling under your thick layer of clothes, and you’d much rather succumb to Mother Nature and her wrath than spend another minute with this insufferable, annoying, mean, and painfully handsome man.

“Fuck you, Joel. I’m retracing my steps whether you have a say in it or not!” You snap and turn on your heel before you feel a rough, gloved-clad hand grasp your upper arm and yank you back towards a hard and very solid presence at your back.

“Quit your fuckin’ yappin!’” He barks against the shell of your ear. His voice is rasped, crackling like a roaring fire. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere without me, you got that?!” His grip around your arm only tightens when you tried to shove him away, but he’s built like a fucking steel fridge, and you’re no match for him.

“Then stop being a fucking asshole, Joel! I’d rather freeze to death out here than spend another minute with you!”

You mean every word. Well, you think that you do.

He sneers at your attempt to wound him with your words, as if a man with a heart made out of pure concrete can possibly be affected by the means of your figurative little daggers. They ricochet off his body and fall to the snow, disappearing under a sheet of white. “I wouldn’t have to be an asshole if you would just fuckin’ listen for once in your life! God, when we get back, and we will, I’m tellin’ Tommy that I ain’t ever goin’ on patrol with your ass again.”

His steel-like grip loosens when you don’t immediately bite back like he expects you too. He wants you to fight back, to call him names and send his own blood boiling because at least then he feels alive.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way.” You nearly whisper and bite down on the inside of your cheek, tasting harsh copper on your tongue.

“Fine.” He agrees and finally releases your arm. “We’re gonna wait out this damn storm for the night, and then tomorrow we’ll retrace our steps home. Who knows, sweetheart. Tommy might have already sent out a search party for us.”

“Let’s fucking hope that’s the case. The sooner this storm lets up, the better.” You think you’re going to cry, but you push your tears down as far as you possibly can. You have to conserve your energy, after all. Besides, Joel Miller isn’t worth your precious tears. Not even close.

He begins to survey the surrounding area. The woods offered some reliable cover with the thick evergreens acting as a shield from the treacherous wind. The snow is still falling in large flakes, but he might be able to get a fire going if he’s lucky.

“We should..probably y’know, share a sleepin’ bag for extra heat.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, feeling kinda silly in the moment because what did he have to be nervous for? His reasoning for sharing warmth was logical. It was just his survival instincts kicking in, right?

You, on the other hand, were unfazed by his request. Sure, it made perfect sense to share body heat with this man. Why the hell did he look so distraught over it - weirdo.

“Did Bear Grylls teach you that, Miller?” You look at him with a smirk playing on your lips. “If that’s the case, then we should probably sleep naked.”

That feeling that had laid dormant for so long, was beginning to reawaken and defrost at the thought of your warm, pliant, soft body being tucked up around him in close proximity. You were annoying, sure, and he could hardly tolerate your presence, but he couldn’t deny that you were a thing of beauty, and neither could his cock.

“No. Some reality TV star didn’t teach me the survival skills that I know, sweetheart. I’m jus’ that good.” He sounds cocky, full of himself and perhaps there’s a bit of eagerness detected in his tone? Maybe the dead giveaway is the way his cheeks flush, and this time it isn’t because of the cold.

You shrug and drop your pack and sleeping bag at your boots. “Whatever you say, Joel.”

He clears his throat and drops his hand from where it was resting against the back of his neck. He stares at you for a second longer than he would have liked to, and then announces that he’s going to go find some wood for a fire, and for you to stay put.

You wave him off and unroll your sleeping bag with a huff and begin to mentally question how the hell is this grizzly of a man going to fit inside of your sleeping bag? Oh well! Time to defy all the odds that have been stacked against you.

When Joel returns, he finds you already tucked away under the sleeping bag with your clothes neatly folded on top of your backpack. He managed to find a few fallen tree branches that would make good kindling, and some thicker logs for the base of the fire.

He avoids making direct eye contact with you as he crouches down and constructs a fire that he hopes to god will keep the two of you warm throughout the cold night ahead.

You already have taken notice of his suddenly quiet and almost docile demeanor with just your head visible and peeking out of the sleeping bag

“Are you sure that fire is going to last the night, Joel?”

His shoulders and back immediately tense from your question and you can already picture him clenching his jaw and muttering under his breath.

“Ain’t no tellin’ if it will last the night, sweetheart.” He stokes at the ember glowing logs with the end of a spare stick before looking over his shoulder at you. “Y’comfy in there?” His voice rasps, dipping down an octave and sounding much, much, lower.

“Yep.” You chirp. “Nice and cozy in here, Joel. Did I mention it’s very, very warm?”

He snorts under his breath, tearing his gaze away from you and focuses back on the fire. “Yeah. I bet it is.”

What you really want to say is: and it would be even warmer if you were here with me. But you refrain, and instead bury your face further into the contained warmth emitting from the sleeping bag.

Joel is hesitating, and that part couldn’t be anymore obvious based on his tense stature. Maybe he could just accept losing feeling in his fingers and toes instead of crossing that boundary with you. Or, he could man up and deal with the immediate feelings that would come as soon as his hands would inevitably touch your warm skin.

“Joel?”

Your voice tears him away from his thoughts briefly. “Hm?”

“Aren’t you..cold?”

Freezing. My cock and balls are about to fuckin’ fall off.

“M’fine.” He insists.

“So goddamn stubborn.” He hears you mutter under your breath followed by the sound of the sleeping bag zipper being pulled down. “Get in here before you freeze to death. I’m serious, Joel.”

“Fuck off. I said m’fine.” He grumbles and turns over his shoulder to look at you once more. His eyes catch a sliver of skin, a nipple peeking out from under the fabric as you were sitting up. His head whips around so fast he swears that his brain just got rattled around in his skull.

“Would you just be a fucking man and take your clothes off and get in here?”

So impatient, he thinks.

“You jus’ wanna see me naked.” He quips back.

“For fuck sakes, Joel. I just don’t want you to freeze out here. Is that so hard to believe?”

Yes.

“Jus’..don’t peek. Alright?” He slowly stands up from his place alongside the fire as he starts to shuck his heavy coat off his shoulders.

“Fine. I won’t peek, okay? Scouts honor.” You promise him and bring your hand over your eyes to cover them.

He’s grumbling to himself the whole time as he begins to undress. He bitches about the cold, his cock, and his nearly frozen toes as you listen quietly to the sound of his belt buckle being undone. He does not fold his clothes neatly like you did and instead they are left in a pile near the fire. He dashes for your sleeping bag, yanking the zipper down in a fury and climbs inside.

It’s a tight fit indeed with barely any room for him to squeeze in but he makes it work.

“Fuck!” His yell is muffled as he struggles to make himself comfortable in what little space he has. “Fuckin’ cannot believe I actually listened to you.” He rubs his hands together, blowing hot air between them.

“Oh, shut up, you big baby.” You stifle a laugh which earns you a displeased glare. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you just would have—”

“Do not start with me, sweetheart. Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” His brows furrow and his jaw is clenched so tightly, you’re shocked that it hasn’t shattered.

“You’re all bark and no bite, Joel.” You mutter back and roll over onto your side so your back is facing him. You close your eyes and fully intend to get some much needed and deserved sleep, but the man beside you is squirming and making a big fuss.

“Darlin’ I know you ain’t want anythin’ to do with a man like me, but it was your idea for us to get naked under here..so all I’m askin’ is—”

“Just do whatever it is you need to do, Joel. Can you just be quiet about it? All I want to do right now is sleep, and your fussing about is making that really fucking difficult for me to achieve.” You snap.

“Are you givin’ me permission, sweetheart? Cus’ the last thing I want is for you to bite my damn fingers off if I touch you. So as long as it’s alright with you..” he trails off and you take matters into your own hands by reaching behind you and finding his cold hands and yanking them around your body. You couldn’t help but yelp from the stark difference of temperature from your body heat to his hands.

“You’re fucking freezing, Joel.” You state the obvious and he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I didn’t exactly have time to warm them up, sweetheart. My apologies that my hands aren’t at the right temperature for ya.” You think you hear him snicker under his breath, but maybe it’s just his close proximity that makes you hear things.

“Whatever. It’s fine.” You reassure him.

His hands are big, huge, and the skin on his palms and fingers are rough. The feeling overall is quite pleasant, and soon enough his hands don’t feel like an ice block - quite the opposite actually.

He grunts softly as attempts to make himself comfortable without pressing himself into your back. It’s proving to be a challenge as it is, and he has this feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, that this challenge is going to get the best of him.

“What’s wrong now, Joel?” You try to ignore the way his thumbs are gently stroking the space between the curve of your breasts and under your rib cage, and how his touch on your skin is beginning to light a fire in your belly, and between your thighs. His touch is gentle and it’s making your head spin with need and desire.

“I jus’—I don’t wanna make y’feel uncomfortable s’all.” He admits, voice rasping deeply. “I’m fuckin’ freezin’, darlin’ but I don’t wanna—”

“Just shut up and stick your dick in me, Joel. You’ll be warmer then.” You surprise both yourself and him.

His meaty palms squeeze you gently, fingertips kneading the flesh as he inhales a shaky, yet audible breath. The tight confines of your shared sleeping bag suddenly feel ten times tighter, and hotter. It’s suffocating in a delicious sense that you and Joel are stuck here together in this rather..unfortunate situation. You hate him, and he hates you, yet the thought of his thick cock nestling between your thighs sounds like absolute heaven on a plate right now.

Joel thinks he’s on the verge of passing out from your vulgar statement. It’s been god knows how long since he’s felt the warmth of a woman’s body around his cock. It’s been too goddamn long, he thinks.

“..well, if you’re askin.’” He whispers as his hands maneuver your body to press back against him. One strong arm anchors itself around your waist, engaging you in a warm hold when you feel his hard, broad chest pressing against your back. You haven’t even seen his cock, yet you already can tell that he’s big. The word big might not even be able to describe the massive size that is Joel Miller.

“This doesn’t mean anything. Right, Joel?” You ask through the thick growing tension that coils itself around you and the burly man beside you like a snake.

“Doesn’t mean nothin’ at all, sweetheart. Jus’ sharin’ body heat for survival, like you said.” He rasps and blows a hot puff of air against the back of your neck as his strong thighs wrap around your own. Even this man’s feet are fucking huge in every sense.

Y’know what they say about big feet? An even bigger—heart. I was going to say heart.

“Okay.” You squeak out as you relax further into his hold around you.

“Can you jus’ let me know if you’re uncomfortable at any point? Cus’ if that’s the case, I’ll slip right out. No questions asked, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his apparent nervousness. It was sweet, in a Joel-like fashion. Hell must have frozen over right then and there because the Joel you had grown so accustomed to, was anything but sweet.

“Wow. You sure know how to romance a lady up, Miller. Did Tommy teach you how to do that?” You couldn’t help but wiggle your ass back against him. The thought of reaching down between your thighs and touching yourself crossed your mind, but you refrained.

He laughed, and it sent a wave of arousal gushing like a river because his laugh was beautiful. It was music to your fucking ears.

“Shut the fuck up.” His teeth grazed at the spot where your neck meets your jaw. He bit down, drawing blood to the surface of his indentation in your skin. “I taught Tommy everythin’ he needs to know on romancin’ a woman. Don’t get it twisted, sweetheart.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, big boy.” You nearly purred. Your back arched towards him, a suppressed moan desperate to be set free when his teeth marked you.

“I think someone is a bit too eager over this whole arrangement that we have found ourselves in.” He comments in a low rasp and his hand drifts down from your hip and nudges your thighs apart with a practiced ease. His heavy cock pressed firmly against your lower back as he let out another praising grunt from between his lips.

“Stop playing with me, Joel. I don’t want to be played with.” You hiss under your breath when you feel the backside of his knuckles slowly drag through the seam of your cunt.

“Y’sure about that, sweetheart? If you don’t wanna be played with, then what do you want?”

Frankly, he’s taking too long for your liking and you decided then and there to take matters into your own hands; literally. You reach between your bodies before he even has a chance to protest as you blindly search for his cock. Your warm palm barely fits around the girth of him.

“I want you to take your cock and stretch me open, Joel. Think you can handle that? Best not keep a lady waiting. It’s awfully rude.” You tsk under your breath.

He growls as his hips buck upwards into your hand like he’s never felt the touch of a woman’s palm before in his life.

“Fine. I like a woman that knows exactly what she wants, anyway. Won’t keep ya waitin’ any longer, princess.”

Joel Miller is a man of his word and just when you think he’s bluffing, you feel the thick press of the head of his cock sliding through your slick folds and notching at your entrance.

He groans against your ear, jaw clenching, and teeth grinding because you’re tight and hugging him like a fucking fist.

“Jesus fuck. That’s a tight cunt if I’ve ever felt one.” He rasps as you slowly pull him in further at the rate that he pushes his hips. Soon, he’s bottomed out with his hips firmly pressed into your ass. His legs stay tangled through yours as his arms come to wrap you up in his hold once more.

“Fuck.” You breathe, lashes fluttering as he stretches you open. He fits snuggly, almost as if your pussy was making a home for his cock to stay there awhile, all cozy and warm with you. “See? Was that so fucking difficult?”

He shakes his head and you swear you can feel him grinning against your skin. “Nope. It wasn’t difficult at all, sweetheart. In fact, I think I’ll stay here awhile.” Yeah, he’s definitely enjoying this.

You smile at this, burying your face into the solid muscle of his bicep, pressing the lightest kiss there. Maybe you even nibbled on it, and maybe he chuckled and pulled you in even closer.

“Stay as long as you’d please, Joel.” You whisper softly.

Come morning the embers from the fire had long since died out, and the storm had since passed. You and Joel were still a bunch of tangled limbs and connected warmth by the time Tommy and the rest of patrol had found you.

Joel had since grown soft with his cock still buried deep within your warmth and his face was buried in your neck with peaceful snores slipping past his plush lips. His eyes barely peeked open when he heard familiar voices muffled, yet nearby. Tommy had just brushed a bit of snow off the top of the sleeping bag and pulled the zipper down when he was met with a sight that he wasn’t expecting.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He chuckled and shot his big brother a cheeky wink.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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[chelseeebe]

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply. 

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good. 

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start. 

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams. 

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor. 

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to. 

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity. 

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself. 

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend. 

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.” 

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers. 

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t. 

-

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that. 

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van. 

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night. 

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds. 

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top. 

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction. 

holy fuck. 

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too. 

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow. 

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him. 

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp. 

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.” 

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool. 

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing. 

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play. 

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side. 

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind. 

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off. 

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!” 

okay maybe he was being a little weird. 

who cares? 

definitely not eddie. 

-

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed. 

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead. 

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much? 

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own. 

fuck fuck fuck. 

why does this keep happening? 

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage. 

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career. 

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him. 

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him. 

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm. 

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back. 

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse. 

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really. 

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along. 

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing. 

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust. 

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest. 

nothing major. 

-

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back. 

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her. 

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening. 

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand. 

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about? 

had he done something wrong? 

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..” 

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.” 

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans. 

nothing. not even a twitch. 

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift. 

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment. 

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go. 

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no. 

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.” 

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van. 

just as he deserved. 

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention. 

-

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him. 

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story. 

he can’t stand it. 

you have to go. 

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life. 

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did. 

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way. 

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time. 

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?” 

shit. 

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing. 

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person. 

but so were you. 

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women 

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway. 

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably. 

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close. 

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up. 

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights. 

that’s what he’s praying for anyway. 

-

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage. 

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig. 

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod. 

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual. 

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say. 

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile. 

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead. 

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.” 

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words. 

oh shit. 

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out. 

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too. 

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for. 

wait wait wait. 

you liked him? 

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be. 

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on. 

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to. 

-

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too. 

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth. 

shit, maybe he was. 

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties. 

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved. 

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why. 

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was. 

but that wasn’t it. 

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit. 

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you. 

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big. 

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure. 

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you. 

-

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain. 

you don’t turn up that night, obviously. 

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind. 

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was. 

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case. 

there’s only one place he can think about going. 

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now. 

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to. 

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off. 

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up. 

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face. 

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer. 

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head. 

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had. 

because that was it, really. 

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too. 

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else. 

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you. 

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water. 

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter. 

woah. 

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you. 

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man? 

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face. 

-

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you. 

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin. 

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check. 

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it. 

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help. 

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here. 

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it. 

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t. 

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in. 

-

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played. 

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.  

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it. 

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation. 

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology. 

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer. 

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him. 

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly. 

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd. 

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you. 

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons. 

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel. 

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.” 

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth. 

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest. 

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?” 

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.” 

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives. 

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression. 

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone. 

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones. 

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him. 

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red. 

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute. 

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum. 

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him. 

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs. 

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?” 

[steddieas-shegoes]

four times eddie gets carried and one time he does the carrying

one

Eddie opens his eyes to chaos: a heartbeat under his ear that’s furious, a voice echoing just above him yelling profanities and directions, hands digging into his legs and side that should probably hurt.

But nothing hurts.

He can’t feel anything, actually.

Which is probably a good thing considering the last time his eyes were open, he was dying.

Maybe he is dead. Maybe this is Hell.

But he catches a somewhat familiar scent, and he turns his head towards the solid but soft wall holding him.

He must make a noise because the voice vibrating against his face stops, the movement under him stops, and a different panic ensues. He’s not sure what’s being said now, too focused on the comfort he’s feeling.

Maybe it’s not Hell. Maybe he’s found his way to Heaven.

But that’s Steve’s smell and Steve isn’t dead. Is he?

Eddie’s eyes open and he finds just enough energy to make a small noise, one that wouldn’t have been heard in the chaos, but definitely gets heard in the silence surrounding him now. He hates silence. He hopes if he’s dead, he can at least hear some music sometimes.

“Eddie?”

It’s definitely Steve’s voice, and Steve’s smell, and probably Steve’s strength holding him up.

“You don’t have to talk if it hurts, but can you tap my chest if you can hear me?”

Eddie could do that. He could.

His hand was already brushing against Steve’s chest as they walked, so he lifted a few fingers and brushed them against the material of Steve’s shirt.

“That’s good!” Steve sounded pretty thrilled about such a simple touch.

Eddie was familiar with being touch starved, but he didn’t think Steve could be this bad off with all the times he’s been practically glued to Robin.

“St-“ he tried to say his name, maybe get some answers for why he was being carried, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“It’s okay. I’m getting you safe. We can fix it,” Steve was walking still, but no other voices could be heard anymore. It was like the world had narrowed down to only them. “I promise I’m gonna fix it.”

“Mkay.”

Blackness clouded Eddie’s vision again as he lost consciousness.

two

Eddie’s physical therapy sessions in the hospital sucked, but the ones at home sucked worse.

At least at the hospital, no one was around to watch him struggle and fail except the physical therapist. At home, Steve was watching and making sure he did everything right, never more than a few feet away in case he needed help.

Eddie could walk with support, but he refused to use the stupid walker the hospital gave him. Wayne found a cane in his room from when he hurt his back a few years ago and told Eddie he could decorate it however he wanted if it meant he’d use it.

And he sure did.

He covered it in black paint, stickers, and had all the kids paint their names on it.

But he still hated using it.

So he was focusing on the walking movements the PT gave him, and Steve was constantly hovering beside him, waiting for any sign that he needed to stop.

“Your legs are shaking, Eds. We should stop for today,” Steve put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, careful not to put any weight on him. “You can do more tomorrow.”

“No, I’m almost to the couch.”

The silence was loud as he looked ahead at where the couch actually was. He wasn’t almost there. He wouldn’t make it.

But he was stubborn, dangerously so, and he was gonna make it.

He took another two shuffling steps, then felt a shooting pain in his side and nearly collapsed.

Steve’s arms were under him immediately, lifting under his legs and supporting his back in a fucking bridal carry.

“Put me down!” Eddie squirmed, but Steve was strong. “I was almost there!”

“No you weren’t and you were gonna push yourself too hard. You would’ve fallen and got hurt and if you get hurt again, it’ll be my fault.”

Eddie’s mouth snapped shut before his argument could be said.

Did Steve think he was actually responsible for Eddie?

“Stevie, it’s carpet. I would’ve been fine,” Eddie said quietly as Steve walked them over to the couch. He didn’t set Eddie down though, just held him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not letting anything happen to you again.” Steve set him down gently on the couch, making sure his legs were stretched out so he could do some of his sitting movements. “I’m not letting you down again.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t let me down,” Eddie stayed frozen where Steve had set him down, unable to even breathe properly.

“I should’ve been there so you didn’t run back to distract the bats. You never should’ve almost died.”

“Steve…” Eddie reached a hand out, tugging on Steve’s hand until he was sitting on the coffee table across from him. “None of this is your fault. I’m an adult. I made my choices. I would’ve made them even if you were there.”

“But-“

“No buts!” Eddie smiled at him, ignoring another sharp pain in his hip. “You know how stubborn I am. Do you really think you had a shot in hell of stopping me once I decided to be a distraction?”

Steve shook his head.

“Then stop blaming yourself. You saved my fuckin’ life, man. You stayed by my side nearly every day since then. You couldn’t let me down if you tried, okay?”

“Okay.”

three

He’d fallen asleep on the couch, he knew he had.

But he was currently in Steve’s bed. Which is upstairs. He hasn’t mastered walking up stairs yet.

How the fuck did he get here?

It was dark except for a hint of moonlight streaming between the curtains and a glow under the door from the hall light that was always on.

He turned on his side and nearly screamed when he saw a black outline of someone else in the bed.

The body moved and Eddie could just make out the hair.

Steve.

He was in Steve’s bed with Steve.

“You okay?” Steve’s raspy sleep voice startled him, his heart rate climbing to probably dangerous levels.

A hand reached out and touched Eddie’s chest, right over his racing heart. Steve’s hand was warm and wasn’t moving away.

“Mhm. How’d I get here?”

“Carried you.”

He couldn’t see if Steve’s eyes were open, or if he was even properly facing Eddie, but he was grateful for the dark hiding his blush.

“I could’ve stayed on the couch.”

“Wanted you here,” Steve mumbled against his pillow, his hand bunching up Eddie’s shirt as he pulled him closer. “Sleep.”

Eddie could think about it tomorrow. Or maybe never.

Maybe this was a dream, or maybe Steve was still asleep and had no idea what he was doing or saying. Maybe he’d wake up and Steve would be gone and he’d never know for sure if he dreamt it or it was real.

But for now, Eddie fell asleep with Steve’s hand against his chest and his body heat keeping him warm.

four

“I don’t know why you picked a spot so far into the woods. Are you trying to murder me? You were just being nice for the last three months because it would be easier to trick me?” Eddie paused to catch his breath. He was admittedly very out of shape, but this trek seemed particularly difficult.

“Are you in actual pain or are you just tired?” Steve asked, not slowing down at all.

“Can’t it be both?”

Steve finally stopped and turned to Eddie, the worried set of his brow almost making Eddie feel guilty.

“We can go back, Eddie,” Steve offered quietly.

Eddie saw the disappointment on his face, though. And he was a little sore, but mostly from being tired, not from actually overexerting his muscles.

“No, I can make it. How much longer?”

Steve looked around for a moment. “Less than half a mile, but most of it is uphill.”

“I’ll just take it slow. Sorry,” Eddie apologized.

“Hey,” Steve was suddenly back in front of him, hands on his arms to stop him, to comfort him. “We can go as slow as you need. We’ve got all day. Need any help?”

Eddie didn’t. He knew he didn’t. He was doing a lot better than he expected, truthfully.

But if it kept Steve’s hands on him, he was obviously going to say yes.

Steve wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him over a particularly large log.

They continued in silence, but Steve’s arm never left his waist, and Eddie’s breath never quite went back to normal.

When they were almost at Steve’s destination, Eddie lost his footing and nearly face planted into the wet soil. But Steve tugged him back just in time, until his back was flush against Steve’s front.

“Let me help,” Steve said against his ear.

His hands went under him, lifting him up in the familiar bridal carry that seemed like second nature for them at this point.

Steve held him close, made sure he had a good grip, then started walking forward.

“You don’t have to do this,” Eddie barely whispered. He felt a bit ashamed, that he couldn’t do something so simple, that Steve felt like he had to help, that he was a nuisance.

“I want to.”

Neither of them spoke again until they reached their destination.

Steve didn’t put him down at first, walking over to a clearing that looked out over the lake.

Eddie had no idea this was even accessible to people, had only ever noticed the cliff from the edges of the lake and assumed it was just untouched wooded area.

“This is a nice view,” Eddie said as he looked around. He could see a lot of the outskirts of town, even some of the surrounding areas that were mostly untouched by the events of spring break. “Can already see some stars.”

The sun was still up, but it was near dusk. The walk back would be dark if they didn’t leave soon.

“Yeah,” Steve finally set him down on his feet, but didn’t put any space between them. “Wanted you to see it.”

Eddie watched as Steve’s hands fiddled with his sweater, a nervous habit that he noticed back when he was still in the hospital. He’d never mentioned it, wasn’t even sure Steve knew he was doing it, but he always offered his ring-covered hand as a replacement.

Maybe it was a little selfish, but Steve never seemed to mind.

As soon as Eddie slipped his hand closer to Steve, he started toying with his mood ring, a gift from Dustin when he got out of the hospital so they could tell how he was before asking. It didn’t actually work, but they all thought it was fun.

“You come out here often?”

Steve shrugged. “Not as much since Vecna. Don’t really like being alone anymore.”

“Yeah. I know what ya mean.”

They stood there in silence again, looking up at the stars and out at the vastness of rural Indiana. Steve moved on to fidgeting with another ring, spinning it and twisting it every way possible.

“Wayne asked when you’d wanna move back in with him. Said he’s settled in the new trailer and can get your room set up whenever you’re ready,” Steve finally said.

Eddie turned to look at him, noting the shakiness in his voice. He was biting his lip so much, it was a miracle he wasn’t bleeding.

Something was off.

He’d been staying with Steve because it was easy, it was best for everyone to have easy access to a bedroom and bathroom while he healed, and Steve was the only one with parents who weren’t around. Wayne was stuck in the second floor of a motel, which wasn’t ideal for Eddie at all. But now he had a new place, and Eddie could handle stairs now, and it just made sense to go home.

So why did it feel like he’d be leaving his home if he went back to Wayne?

“Do you want me to go?” Eddie asked, bracing for the ‘yes’ he was certain was coming.

“No.”

Eddie pulled back in shock.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean no, I don’t want you to go,” Steve grabbed his hand again, tracing along the outside of his rings, making goosebumps pop up on Eddie’s arms. “I want you to stay. But I know you love Wayne and probably miss him. You should go if you want to.”

Eddie fishmouthed for a moment, unsure how to respond. He knew what he wanted to say. He knew he should probably think about this without Steve in front of him.

“And if I don’t wanna go?”

Steve searched his face for any hint of a lie, but Eddie knew he wouldn’t find one. He wanted to stay.

He wanted to stay with Steve.

“Then you should stay,” Steve choked out, almost in as much shock as Eddie had been only a moment ago. “Stay. Please.”

“In the guest room?” Eddie pushed. He shouldn’t push, but he had to know if this was Steve acting out of fear of being alone or if Steve was feeling the same about Eddie as Eddie was about Steve.

“I was thinking you could stay in my room. My bed.”

Eddie smirked. Steve was a charmer, no doubt about that, but he was clearly nervous, in uncharted territory.

He leaned in, watched Steve’s eyes widen in surprise at the shift in control of the conversation.

“And if I get sharing bed privileges, does that mean I also get kissing privileges?”

Steve nodded, eyes still wide, still shocked speechless.

“Could I start that privilege now?”

“Yeah. Yes, please.”

Eddie had never enjoyed a privilege quite as much as this one.

+ one

“You said the front step was fixed!” Eddie screeched as they stood outside their new home. “Look at it. It’s depressed.”

Steve snorted. “It’s just a little…crooked.”

“It’s barely even attached anymore.”

Steve nudged his shoulder and held out the key. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh no, no. We had an agreement, didn’t we?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I’ve been training for this moment for over a year!”

“Throwing me around on the bed is not ‘training’, baby,” Steve smiled. “But if you really wanna do this, I’ll unlock the door.”

Eddie grinned and leaned over to pick Steve up into a bridal carry.

Steve yelped when he almost immediately dropped him, his hand fisting in Eddie’s shirt to try to keep from falling.

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” Eddie said, tightening his hold on his legs and shifting him up so that his face was level with Eddie’s. “You know what’s nice about living in the middle of nowhere?”

“What?” Steve breathed out, eyes darting down to Eddie’s lips.

“I can kiss you right here in the open and no one’s around to see it.”

“Then do it,” Steve challenged.

Eddie was always up for the challenge.

He kissed him, smiling into it as he realized this was their whole future. This house, this life, it was theirs.

Eddie carefully stepped up onto the porch, avoiding the worst of the step, and walked up to the front door.

Steve leaned over to unlock it, pushed it open, and waited.

He looked up at Eddie as Eddie stepped through the door.

“Maybe someday we can do this married,” Steve’s voice was quiet, nervous.

“You wanna marry me?” Eddie half-teased. He still couldn’t quite believe how much Steve wanted him, how much he loved him.

“I’d do it today if we could.”

“We could pretend anyway,” Eddie kissed his forehead before setting him down. “We’ve got a lot of rooms to christen.”

“Where do you wanna start?”

“The living room has a fireplace and I’ve had fantasies-“

“Fantasies? Seriously?”

Eddie tugged Steve to him by his waist, captured his lips in a heated kiss. “So many fantasies.”

Steve started walking them backwards towards the fireplace. “Show me what these fantasies looked like then.”

“You got it, big boy.”

[angelwonie]

ME AND THE DEVIL || coriolanus snow

PAIRING: coriolanus x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 10.1k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, slowburn, enemies to lovers, angst (if you squint)

SUMMARY: Coriolanus Snow is a difficult man to please. And yet you have overtaken his mind—you, the only person in the academy who seems to have no interest in him. But he is also a persuasive man, and he usually gets what he wants. There's only one problem: falling in love wasn't a part of the plan.

WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, degradation, praise, overstimulation, manhandling, edging, crying, breeding kink, brat taming?, coryo is mean but down bad], canon-typical violence, mentions of blood and guns, morally gray coriolanus

It started with a change of seats.

In the academy, students were assigned a study partner meant to last throughout the year. The partners were to sit together in the lecture rooms, write each assignment together and support the other in weakness. The goal of this premise was to keep all students attentive and growing—the academy hardly accepted laziness and not at all incompetence. In the top class which consisted of, as the name suggests, the academy’s finest students, the hunger for success stood stronger, and tolerance for failure—lower. Therefore study partners were as close to a lifeline as a student could come.

Coriolanus had no problem with that. Working with others, as vexing as it could be, brought on more pros than cons, especially when he was allowed to take the lead. And if anything went wrong, he was free to blame someone else for the outcome—though Highbottom never really believed him. 

The Problem, which currently he referred to with a capital P in his mind, had begun when Dr. Gaul suddenly announced a change in the seating arrangement. 

It came as a shock to everyone and frankly, turned the whole orderly system on its head. Livia was moved away to sit with Festus; Gaius with a clearly disdainful Arachne; and he—with you, a girl just recently having joined the top class and taken the spot of a guy who had moved down in ranks. 

Originally, you had seated yourself next to Sejanus, in the only empty seat in the room. When Dr. Gaul walked into the room, they all stood. She told them not to bother sitting again and began reading the names of what was to become new partnerships.

Coriolanus could hear Clemensia letting out a groan of frustration upon her name being read out alongside Sejanus’. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop his smile from spreading at the misfortune he had evaded.

But it didn’t last long, this state of contentment, because soon his own name was read aloud—with yours. 

Your face, as he noticed upon looking in your direction, had no distinctive emotion written across it. Your brows were ever so slightly raised, the corners of your mouth straight. You spared a single glance in his direction—glimmering eyes meeting his blue ones—then, without much reaction, strolled towards the seat which Clemensia had yet to vacate. 

“I think you’re in my seat.”

It was the first time he heard your voice. It was far from gentle, but not exactly rough; clear, but not exactly loud. You were standing with your back straight, your bag at your side. 

The sound brought Clemensia’s attention to your figure for a solid second before she turned to Coriolanus, brows furrowed. 

“This is so stupid. Why would she separate us when she knows how well we work together?” 

He didn’t have time to answer before you took a step closer, this time letting your lips spread in a smile. It revealed your teeth, but no cordiality. “You’re still in my seat. You can question the authority of our teachers another time, right?”

Clemensia, a little stunned, stood unmoving until Dr. Gaul shouted at her from the other side of the room. She took her things and with a last look of disbelief cast Coriolanus’ way, moved towards her own designated seat.

You placed your bag by the desk and sat down, legs crossed at the knees. Coriolanus did the same, although his eyes drifted to his right just a little. You looked a bit like a Greek statue, with your posture and expression so much like his own. 

Dr. Gaul clapped her hands anew. “Well, what are you waiting for? Introduce yourselves!”

Coriolanus cleared his throat and you turned to him, a somewhat bored look in your eyes. 

“Coriolanus Snow,” he said, extending a hand. 

You didn’t take his hand. “I know who you are.” 

You didn’t speak to him any more that day. Or the day after that. Or the next.

All he had was your name and the (maybe feigned) looks of boredom you seldom sent him. And a growing annoyance which came about each time he politely told you good morning and you replied in a dull tone. 

Nobody knew much about you, which resulted in what students do best when met with lack of information—they make up their own. Livia Cardew claimed you were from district 1. Clemensia whispered to Coriolanus about how your place in the academy was most certainly bought by your parents. Festus Creed was utterly convinced your arrival was a test to see how long they would last alongside a girl who showed no interest in anyone and yet walked with her head high.

But the only rumor which held any truth to it at all was Arachne’s hesitant scoff about how she knew you before. 

Livia immediately picked up on the statement and leaned forward in her chair. “You did? So she isn’t from district one?” 

“No. But she might as well have been.” Arachne looked to the rest of them for a dramatic effect. “She’s a total bitch, anyway. That’s all there is to say.” 

That ended the discussion. 

One day, perhaps a week after you and Coriolanus had become study partners, you walked into the academy wearing the tiniest skirt he had ever seen. It was the academy’s uniform, only altered to be shorter and tighter, framing your hips perfectly and ending just about halfway of your thigh.

Coriolanus heard Clemensia scoff from where she stood by his side. 

“Attention seeker.”

“Is that even allowed?” Festus asked, though it was unclear whether he meant vandalizing the academy uniform or how otherworldly your legs looked in the skirt. 

Whichever it was, the answer was probably no. 

On a daily basis, you were already pretty. He knew it and he was well aware the other boys also knew it from the way they eyed you like hawks when you weren’t looking. And, let’s be honest, you were never looking at any of them. So there was a whole lot of staring which Coriolanus caught every time, while you remained either oblivious or too stubborn to acknowledge the attention. 

Now, he thought, you must be aware of it—at the very least.

He, personally, was painfully aware of it. Like an embarrassing Victorian man whose mouth waters at the sight of a woman’s ankles, he felt his pants were suddenly too tight. It was in a state of panic that he adjusted himself, clearing his throat. His hand squeezed the desk he was leaning against as he mumbled an incoherent reply that was just enough for Festus and Clemmie to continue their conversation without his input. 

From over Clemensia’s shoulder, he could see Volumnia Gaul and Casca Highbottom strolling into the room. 

“Dr. Gaul’s here,” he said, pointing with his jaw.  

“Oh, right.”

The two of them walked away and Coriolanus closed his eyes, rubbing his nose bridge. 

Once he opened them again, he was met with your frame approaching—and he almost jolted in surprise. Your hair was hanging loosely down your shoulders, pinned back on one side to reveal golden earrings. You took a step in his direction and he wondered what for—the distance between you was close to nothing. 

“Move.”

Taken aback, he fought the urge to look around and see if anyone else had heard. But no, you were too far and class was almost starting; everyone was busy with themselves. 

“Sorry?” he asked with a strained smile.

You sighed, looking vaguely annoyed. “You’re blocking my way.” 

He grit his teeth, moving aside. You sauntered past him and into your seat, which he only now realized he had been standing in front of. Your skirt flowed behind you; when you bent down to place your bag on the ground he almost caught a glimpse of your panties. Almost. But what he saw was enough to fill him with rage that didn’t subside for the rest of the lesson—along with his boner. 

“I personally think she’s nice,” Sejanus offered when Coriolanus mentioned your poor behavior towards him during lunch. Of course, he said nothing of his dick hardening—oversharing wasn’t his forte. 

“Well, you don’t sit with her.”

“I did. And she was nice to me.” 

He sent Sejanus a death glare which worked effectively to shut him up. 

Coriolanus didn’t really care about your demeanor. It didn’t mess with his work—when you had to be cooperative, you were. And outside of class, Clemensia was more than happy to cling to his arm like a koala. The same went for Sejanus. What bothered him was that look—of disdain, boredom—the lazy way in which you displayed your distaste, like he wasn’t even worth an effort to hate. Because you didn’t hate him.

You just… didn’t care. 

You terrified him. You made him see red. You made him react physically, for God’s sake. And he had spoken to you all of twice. How pathetic was that? Enough to stay forever in his thoughts, that much was certain. He was never going to say a word about this to anyone. 

But worst of all was this: you liked Sejanus. 

Whenever he saw you talking to anyone, it was either your friends from your old class or him. Sejanus Plinth, from district two, with nothing but irritating opinions and a fortune to offer. He saw you laugh at his half-developed jokes, look at him in total focus while he spoke. 

One day, about a month after it all, when Highbottom showed no signs of letting them switch seats ever again, he decided to ask you about it. Dr. Gaul was currently strolling about the lecture room, monologuing, which gave him enough time to lean to the side, towards you. 

“Seems like you and Sejanus have gotten quite close,” he said, loud enough for only you to hear. 

If you registered his words, you made no signs of it. His eyes trailed lower, to your tiny, tiny skirt and the plushness of your thighs which he was free to look at but not allowed to touch. He clenched his jaw and tried again. 

“What is it you want? His money?”

At this, your head whipped in his direction. His cool, blue eyes bore into yours and he could see anger, clear like black on a white piece of paper, in your gaze. Your shoulders were tense, lips barely parted. But this only lasted a brief moment—a glitch in your composure—before you straightened your back and grit your teeth into a feigned smile.

“And you? What do you want from him?” 

He opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Dr. Gaul’s piercing voice. 

“Miss L/N and Mr. Snow! Perhaps the two of you will answer my question since you’re so deep in discussion.” The woman looked at the two of you sternly. “What is the point of the hunger games?” 

You looked at Coriolanus, who seemed perfectly content in his seat. He had no intention of answering. Bastard. You folded your hands into fists and stood up. Everyone was looking, but only Coriolanus’ gaze made your heart thump against your chest. It felt as if you had something to prove. 

“To keep the districts at bay.” With a glance towards Sejanus, you bit the inside of your cheek. “In a highly unethical way, of course. It hardly takes killing twenty-three children to prove a point.” 

“District children. Remember that,” said Dr. Gaul. “You may sit.” 

You obeyed, suppressing a sigh of relief. 

At least it was relief until you felt a hot breath on the side of your neck, paired with Coriolanus whispering, “Liar.” 

You looked at him, seemingly unphased, and let out a soft scoff. “If you didn’t like my answer, you should have said something instead.” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, just that it was a lie. Don’t worry, though, I don’t think Sejanus can tell.”

Your jaw tightened indiscernibly. The boy whose curls were falling into his forehead gave a smirk, eyes trailing to where Sejanus was sitting and then back again. You just looked at him, unwavering. 

“You know nothing about me.”

“And you know nothing about me,” he said, lips spreading to reveal his teeth. “Now we’re both liars.” 

***

On the third of the month, the Plinths threw a party.

It was a large gathering, consisting mainly of the academy’s students and their immediate family. The occasion was unclear—unofficially, it was said the Plinths wanted to scout the students to see who was fit to win the Plinth prize. But it was just rumors. Officially, it was a celebration of the academy’s fiftieth anniversary.

After all it had endured—the rebellion, the war, Coriolanus Snow—a party seemed in order.

On the topic of Snow—you were terribly irritated by the way his words were swarming around your head like bees. Somehow, you had managed to remember his voice down to every shiver and for whatever reason, your brain wouldn’t let go of it. Even as your mother, with her eyes fixated on the mirror, smoothed out the length of your silky dress and asked if you liked it. Even as the two of you left the apartment. Even as you exited the car and walked up the steps to the academy’s ballroom. 

“Nervous?” your mother asked. 

“No.” 

She pushed the doors open. 

Coriolanus had showed up to the party in a fitted, dark suit along with his grandma’am right on time. Upon his arrival, he had scouted Sejanus somewhere in a corner with his overbearing parents, while Clemensia stood with Livia and her sister. You were nowhere to be seen as far as his eye could reach. His grandma’am dragged him around the room in search of conversation partners and somehow ended up deepening into a discussion with Mr. Plinth, leaving her grandson to fend for himself with Sejanus by his side. The farce lasted for about half an hour; he felt himself growing weary. 

Then, you came in.

Fashionably late, as always, with your mother at your side, you strolled in like the entire party was thrown in your honor. And truly—he might’ve believed you if you said so, with the way your strapless dress sat around your curves.

In his peripheral vision, he could glimpse Sejanus swallowing hard. Coriolanus fought the urge to outright laugh at the ludicrous hope swimming in the eyes of his ‘friend’. He was reaching too high. Way too high. 

“Y/N! What a relief, you’re here!” 

It was the voice of Strabo Plinth that made you turn your head in the direction of their little clique. A smile spread over your face, but disappeared as soon as your gaze landed on Coriolanus. He watched carefully as you approached with your mother, the pearls on your neck glistening in the overhead light. Sejanus was still staring like a fool; Coriolanus felt his blood turn the slightest bit warmer, the tips of his fingers tingling. 

“Mr. Plinth, Sejanus.” You sent the two of them a sweet smile, then cast a look at Coriolanus with your lips pulled tight. “Coriolanus.” 

He nodded at you. “Sweetheart.” 

You didn’t comment on his choice of word, but he could see your jaw tightening and your chest fluttering, pressing against the restraints of your dress.

Thankfully, it seemed nobody else had heard—Mr. Plinth was too busy gushing over yours and Sejanus’ friendship to notice anything else. Coriolanus’ shoulder bumped into yours and you shuddered. The conversation dragged on until Mr. Plinth was beckoned over by another group of people who looked like politicians, and wandered off with a cranky Sejanus in tow. 

Left alone with Coriolanus and his grandmother, you began to plot your and your mother’s escape. 

“Look, mom, there’s Livia. We should go say hi.” 

You had taken less than five steps before Dr. Gaul’s voice reached your ears. 

“Not so fast, miss L/N,” she said, a menacing smile on her face. She waved you and your mother over to where she was standing—right between Snow and his grandmother. “Surely your mother wants to meet the only gentleman whose grades are as good as her daughter’s.” 

Your mother took the bait immediately, forcing you to follow her back to where you wanted so deeply to escape. “Oh, gosh, really? Coriolanus Snow, is it?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He bowed his head, sending your mother one of his disgustingly gorgeous smiles. 

“Now, Coriolanus and Y/N are my best students.” Dr. Gaul, more enthusiastic than you had ever seen her, pulled you and Coriolanus to either side of her, squeezing your shoulders. “And study partners, too. They work so well together. How about the two of you go for a dance?” 

“Oh, I don’t dance—”

“Yes, Y/N,” your mother obliviously interrupted, “don’t let those five-year dancing lessons go to waste.” 

Your face formed into a half-smile, half-frown. “Right.”

Coriolanus sent you a triumphant smile as he stuck out an arm for you to take. You hesitantly snaked yours through it, heart hammering as he led you onto the dance floor.

The song playing was irritatingly slow, and Dr. Gaul’s smile too wide for all this to be a coincidence, but you decided to let it slide—it wasn’t like you really had a choice. Coriolanus positioned you in front of him. From over his shoulder, you could spot Sejanus, to whom you mouthed a silent plea for help, but the boy proved useless when all he did was send you a smile and a shrug. 

Coriolanus placed his hands on your waist appropriately and you hesitantly placed your own atop his broad shoulders. Although you made sure not to touch him more than you had to, the hardness of his muscles was prominent against your fingertips.

The distance between you vexed Coriolanus to no end—especially when he had seen you in a skimpy, tiny black dress all pressed up against Sejanus at Arachne’s birthday party. His fingers harshly tugged at your waist and he smiled in satisfaction at the way your body pliantly molded into him. A gasp threatened to escape you, but you held it back, instead swallowing quietly. 

It turned out both of you were excellent dancers. Coriolanus sensed exactly when you were to make an unexpected move and was always able to maneuver you however he wanted. 

Finally, you decided to speak—a five-minute song danced in silence would last an eternity. “Clemensia’s staring daggers into my back. Am I in danger?” 

The blonde smiled. “Not at all.” 

“How come?”

“I’ll protect you.”

You smiled incredulously, shaking your head. “I hope you have a knife underneath your blazer, then, because she looks dangerous.” 

“I could snap her neck in half with one hand.” 

The way he said it—no hesitation and total seriousness—made you choke on the laughter that was supposed to come out, replacing it with a burning sensation somewhere in the depths of your stomach. His hand, on the small of your back, fiddled gently with the lacing of your dress, then lazily moved back to your waist. 

You cleared your throat. “I heard your father was a great man.” 

“Yes.”

“I’ve also heard he was a terrible person.” You tilted your head to the side, putting on a curious expression. “So, which one is it?”

“Are the two mutually exclusive?” 

At that, you laughed. Real laughter, with your head tipped back—laughter he had never heard before, not even when you were around Sejanus. Something swelled proudly inside his chest. 

“Only you could say something so bizarre. But no, I suppose they’re not.” 

He swayed his hips along with yours, then brought your hand up, signaling he wanted for you to spin. Whilst he swirled you around, you felt the tips of his fingers against your cheekbone, tucking something behind your ear. Once you were in front of him again, you brought your hand to touch the soft surface that felt like a flower. 

“What is that?”

He raised one corner of his mouth. “A rose.” 

“And why, pray tell, are you giving me a rose?”

He swirled you again, this time his fingers grabbing at the flesh between your clavicle and throat, pulling you against him. You felt his very fingertips, cold and soft, against your muscle, his hot breath against your left ear. 

“To mark my territory.” 

With that, he swirled you back and resumed the ordinary dance, with a deadpan expression and shining eyes, emitting an unidentifiable emotion. 

Your cheek trembled, although you tried to hide it by tightening your jaw. “It’s picked from your garden, then, I suppose.” 

“Grandma’am’s.”

“Really?”

Before you could do anything, he leaned forwards so the tip of your nose grazed his pulse. You stood stunned, taking a breath and being met with the strong smell of roses. You caught a glimpse of his collarbones, peeking out from underneath the two buttons he had undone in his shirt. He drew back before you could think to push him away, lips spreading into a smile. 

“Those are also from our garden,” he murmured.

“Coriolanus…”

He liked the way you said his name this time.

Not arrogantly or carelessly, but like it was the most important thing in the world; a bar of gold in your hands. And the shiver in your voice—the thought it must’ve been the most delightful thing he had ever heard. He wanted— no, he deserved to hear it again, but it would have to wait. You were looking up at him the way he yearned you would, like he was impossible to ignore. 

“Hmm?”

You smiled a strained smile, chest heaving. “The song has ended. I believe I should go dance with somebody else.”

Without awaiting a response, you released yourself from his grip and turned your back on him. He stood in somewhat of a silent shock.

And he felt it again, this immense anger because how dare you wrap your arms around Sejanus and convince him to a dance, when he’s standing right here, ready to rip anyone’s throat open to feel your body against him again. 

After your dance with Sejanus, you scurried off to the bathroom, silently inspecting the rose sitting neatly in your hair above your ear. It was a piercing red, matching perfectly with your dress. You sighed into the mirror, rolling your eyes. 

The rest of the evening was spent drinking champagne—too much of it, definitely, but who was counting the glasses which you picked up and later discarded?

Coriolanus, of course, but he was much too embarrassed to say anything and much too agitated and proud to even consider asking Sejanus to look after you. No, he’d rather see you pass out drunk than have Plinth take care of you—he could do that himself. But he didn’t. Not that day, anyway. He left the party somewhat early, assisting his grandma’am down the stairs although she claimed she didn’t need his help.

“What has gotten into you today? You’re too eager to help and you’re looking around like a lost district child.”

“I’m not, grandma’am. Get into the car.” 

But before he could follow in her footsteps, he heard laughter—the same laughter he had heard for the first time just an hour earlier.

He turned automatically, without much thought, and felt rage well up in him as he saw you and Sejanus leaving the hall shoulder-to-shoulder, your respective parents in tow. You were clearly drunk, your steps unsteady. 

Sejanus said something to you, apparently something you found funny, because you slapped his shoulder and laughed again. Unfortunately for you, the heels you were wearing weren’t exactly wasted-proof and gave out from underneath you when you moved your ankle to the side. 

It took the slip of a second for you to tumble down the remaining four steps of the stairs, and another two for Coriolanus to catch you, his arms knitting tightly around your waist. 

“Coriolanus,” you mumbled, at a loss for anything better to say. 

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, but he went out of his way to sit you down on the stairs and inspect your ankle anyway. 

“Stupid girl,” he said, landing a barely discernible slap to the side of your thigh as he stood, having concluded you were alright. “Why drink more than you can handle?” 

“I have a habit of getting in over my head.” 

He looked down at you, the disheveled hair and still present rose which you hadn’t taken out yet, and smiled. Slowly, Sejanus and the rest of them descended down the stairs and Coriolanus turned to get in the car. But first, he sent you a smirk over his shoulder. 

***

Dr. Gaul’s experiments were always interesting.

In the best cases, they were innovative and in the worst—fatal. None of the academy’s top class knew which one this one would turn out to be when they followed Highbottom into the laboratory. 

“What if she kills us?” Livia, who wasn’t particularly fond of you but neither did she feel a particular distaste for you, whispered.

“She won’t,” you whispered back. “We have the president’s son in our class.”

“Right.”

The lot of you walked inside, scattered randomly until Gaul reminded everyone to stick to their partners. You heard Clemensia let out a prolonged sigh upon Coriolanus escaping her grip and approaching you instead. 

He smiled self-importantly. “Y/N.”

“Snow.” 

The smile faded marginally.

Dr. Gaul ushered everyone closer. A servant dragged off the thick, two-meter long piece of fabric covering what at first sight looked like an aquarium, but later revealed to be a cylinder of rainbow-colored snakes. Someone gasped.

You furrowed your brows and took a glance at Coriolanus, who in turn looked back at you. You were quick to avoid his gaze, but not quick enough for him to miss it. 

Dr. Gaul sent you a half-enthusiastic, half-manic smile. “Now, everyone give me something of yours. Come on, I don’t have all day.” 

Coriolanus moved first, which you didn’t mind until he grabbed hold of you and pulled you along. 

“What are you doing?”

“What, are you scared?” 

His eyes twinkled and you tore away from his grip. But it was too late; the two of you were standing right in front of the open snake habitat. You swallowed hard.

He reached into his pocket and fished out a pencil—golden and engraved with his last name—before handing it to Dr. Gaul. You followed suit, albeit hesitantly, and handed her an embroidered handkerchief. 

The rest of the class did the same. Dr. Gaul received all the items, stacked them and instructed everyone to sit. Then she gathered it all into one big pile and threw it into the cage. Immediately, the snakes swarmed around the items, licking and slithering. 

“These snakes,” Dr. Gaul said, “are lethal only when met with a taste they don’t know. Meaning right now, when they’ve touched your things, they are harmless. Come say hi.” 

Nobody, including you, moved a muscle.

Obviously, everyone was busy figuring out why this was even an experiment if they were harmless—from what Dr. Gaul said it sounded more like a visit to the zoo. Next to you, Coriolanus furrowed his brows and stared the cage down with his icy eyes, inspecting. 

“No volunteers?” Dr. Gaul sighed. “How about Y/N and Coriolanus?” 

You froze, looking at Coriolanus with wide eyes. “You first.” 

He tilted his head. “Ask nicely.”

Forcing a smile, you swallowed your pride.

“Please.” 

He stood from the seat and you forced yourself to disregard his grin and the way his uniform strained around his back muscles. 

Just then, as your eyes followed his steps, you saw something by Dr. Gaul’s feet, something shimmering in gold. You squinted at the object. It was barely visible, currently hidden in Coriolanu’s shadow. Coriolanus walked up to the cage and the overhead light fell onto the object, revealing what looked like something engraved. The letter S. The letter N. The letter… 

“Coryo, wait!” You shot up from your seat. Coriolanus looked at you in bewilderment as you grabbed his wrist roughly. “You can’t touch them. Your pen isn’t in there.” 

“What?” His gaze dropped to the golden pen at your feet. 

You looked at his face, as if to make certain he was whole, then at his wrist in between your shaky fingers. How embarrassing, the way your body had grown so hot and how tragic, the way you had made a scene. You wondered what Coriolanus was thinking, with his mouth parted and eyes on you. 

Dr. Gaul clapping her hands together brought you back to reality. “Quite impressive, miss Y/N. I must admit, your reaction time was even faster than predicted.” 

You turned to her in disbelief and maybe a bit of anger. “You did it on purpose? Why?” 

“Why, to see if you were willing to save Mr. Snow here.” 

“That’s absurd, I would have done it for anyone!” Your face grew hot as you ripped your hand away from Coryo’s wrist, as though burned by his skin. “And what if I hadn’t noticed?”

“Then I would have known I made a mistake letting you into the top class. Regard this as a little test, if you will.” She sauntered happily over to you, where she stopped to whisper in your ear: “And for your information, miss Y/N, yesterday these snakes got familiar with mr. Snow through an assignment. I would never put him in danger, so calm your heart.” 

Dr. Gaul proclaimed the class dismissed and left—left you to stand in utter shock for at least ten seconds. Then, before any words could escape Coriolanus’ mouth, you followed in her footsteps, practically running out of the room. 

After this incident, you avoided him.

He noticed immediately, the lack of you in the hallways when he walked through them and the tenseness of your expression in class. Every time you showed up in those tiny skirts and paid him no mind, he resisted the urge to throw you over his shoulder. You had to be put in your place, certainly so—with the way you were messing with his head. A threat, but he chose to look past that, just this once. What he couldn’t look past were your plush thighs, pretty lips and addicting aura. 

Once, after school had finished, he cornered you in an empty classroom in which you were rummaging through your bag, clearly searching for something. 

“Looking for this?”

You jolted back, looking at him over your shoulder and at the kays dangling from his fingers. As your face grew hot, you turned your back to him again, suddenly not so keen on finding the keys. 

“They must have fallen out of my bag,” you mumbled. 

He inched closer, until his chest was against your back and he could drop the keys into your bag. They rattled—the only sound in the room spare for your breathing. 

He craned his neck to mumble against your earlobe, “How come you’re avoiding me, my sweet?”

You turned again.

“I’m not avoiding you.” You huffed at him, raising your head high. “Why would I avoid you? I simply don’t care for your presence.”

The side of his lips twitched. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I have class. I need to go,” you said, before realizing in terror that you’d both just had the last lesson of the day—of which he was fully aware. “I mean…” 

He took a step and you went silent. His hand cupped your jaw harshly, pointer finger and thumb on each respective side of it. He pulled you closer by his grip. 

“I thought I told you not to lie,” he said, squeezing your cheeks. “Did it not register in that pretty head of yours?”

Your lower lip trembled deliciously, eyes tinted with a hint of fear. “Coriolanus…”

“Call me Coryo. Like you did that day with the snakes.” 

There was a change in your expression: widened eyes turning normal again, lips curving into a soft smile as you pried his hand off. He let you, god knows why. Maybe because everything turned uncalculated when he was around you or maybe because he wanted you to listen to what he said. 

But you just said, “I’ll call you that when you earn it.” 

His blood boiled. 

“I don’t think you’re in a position to make demands, sweetheart.”

“Sejanus is waiting for me outside, Coriolanus,” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder teasingly. “I don’t want to keep him waiting.” 

He grit his teeth. “Do you think this is a game?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Is it?” 

He held his outburst enough for you to leave—then, he punched the nearest surface and let out a loud groan. A threat, definitely. A dangerous one. But he’d tear it out of you—these sensations similar to his that he knew you felt.

And how could you be of real danger to him when he was just as much of a threat to you? 

***

When Dr. Gaul and Casca Highbottom announced an ‘educational school trip to district eight’, everyone thought they were joking. 

They were, in fact, not. They took the train for almost ten hours—by the end of it, everyone was weary and irritable. Dr. Gaul told everyone to pay special attention and care to their partners and make sure they were safe, and despite the tiring trip, Coriolanus took on his task with the utmost importance. 

“What are you doing?” you asked him as he, for the third time, slung his arm around you to pull you away from passing wagons. 

“Protecting you, like Dr. Gaul told us to.” 

You snorted a laugh. “I’m sure she didn’t mean from horses.”

“Horses can be dangerous.” 

You just rolled your eyes. His arm stayed draped around your shoulders for the rest of the walk. When you arrived at the inn, Coriolanus leaned close to you abruptly and placed a kiss on your cheek. Before you got the chance to even think of protesting, he was gone. 

The next day all of you were to join Highbottom in his speech in front of the district people.

It was a simple stage made of wood—the people stood spread out on a small square in front. There were almost too many to fit. 

You, as students, were not supposed to do anything in particular other than stand there and look pretty. Coriolanus made the effort to assure you you were splendid at it already, his fingers fanning over your waist. It sent shivers down your spine, and he smiled in self-satisfaction. You cursed him for his perceptiveness as the two of you walked onto stage. 

Coriolanus was far from relaxed as his eyes scanned the crowd. You just had to wear that godforsaken skirt in front of a bunch of starved men. If he could, he’d tear all their eyes out. Starting with that brown-haired asshole in the first row. As Higbottom began his speech, Coriolanus walked up to you and stood purposefully a bit in front, as though to cover you. 

“Is it not impractical to wear a skirt today?” he asked, sending you a pointed look.

“It’s quite warm,” you replied, blinking up at him. “Do you not like it? I wore it for you.” 

He clenched his jaw, heart swelling in pride. Of course he liked it—a little too much to be considered appropriate—but not for everyone to see. He leaned down almost indiscernibly, but you felt his hot breath fan your lips. 

“When I’m president, nobody is going to see you in that skirt except for me.”

You grinned. “When you’re president? What exactly is the extent of your ambition, Mr. Snow?” 

“You are.”

His pupils were expanded, fingers snaking to hold you by the waist. If anyone noticed, he didn’t know, but it didn’t really matter anyway. His fingers found their way under your uniform and he observed attentively as your eyes widened, teeth sinking into your lower lip when he caressed your bare side. 

“Okay, everyone, let’s go,” Highbottom said, signaling his speech was finished. 

Coriolanus let go of you. The lot of you moved, surrounded by peacekeepers until you reached the truck ramp. You walked first, carefully placing your steps. 

But you only managed to take three of them before something—someone, to be precise—pulled your leg to the side and you fell.

Your brain barely registered the pain of your bare knee hitting the ramp before you were no longer on the ramp, but the ground. An ache spread along your side. Coriolanus shouted your name as he jumped down from the ramp, despite Highbottom’s screams at him to stay but.

The man who had pulled you down, who Coriolanus recognized as the hungry-eyed man from the first row, pulled out a knife from his pocket. He lounged just as you froze, unmoving spare for the trembling of your lips. Coriolanus grabbed him and pushed him down; but not before he had managed to sink the knife into your calf. He heard you scream. 

“Help her!” he roared at the peacekeepers, who had their weapons raised at the man who was trying to get up from the ground, but weren’t firing. 

Coriolanus, enraged, ripped out the gun from one of the peacekeepers’ hands. He heard some words of protest but ignored them entirely as he pulled the trigger. And again. And again. And again. Until the man was more holes than flesh. 

“Help her, for fuck’s sake!” he roared again; this time they listened and gathered around you. 

He spared only a glance at your bleeding figure, then turned to the rest of District eight’s crowd—the part of it that hadn’t thought to flee the scene—and fired again. He heard Sejanus shouting, he heard Highbottom shouting, he heard Dr. Gaul shouting, and the peacekeepers gathered around him like flies, but he listened to none of them. He fired and fired until the magazine was empty and someone tore the weapon out of his hands. 

“Coriolanus,” you whispered. 

Only now did he fully look at you, at the cut in your leg and at your frightened face. He ran over, relieved nobody tried to stop him, and kneeled next to you along with a clearly useless peacekeeper. There was blood on his white shirt, but not on his fingers when he ran them over your thigh gently. It didn’t look like a deep cut, but it was bleeding a lot. 

“It’s okay, Y/N, you hear me? Listen to me!” He grabbed your tear-stained face with one hand and turned it so you were looking into his eyes. “You’re gonna be okay. Don’t close your eyes.” 

When you didn’t reply, he shook you a little bit. “You’re alright, okay?”

“Okay, Coryo,” you said meekly. 

He nodded and tore a piece off his shirt to wrap it below your knee. He was angry, unbelievably so, and felt if he didn’t look at your face now and then he might kill all of them: the peacekeepers, his fellow students, Highbottom. He bore a hatred for them all. But you were the priority; you needed saving.

He heard you whimper, using one hand to hold at his shoulder. 

“Why did you…”

He cut you off. “Don’t talk. I’m gonna fix this. You’re okay. Keep your eyes open.” 

You obeyed for as long as you could, for as long as it took for the medics to arrive and carry you away; then, you let yourself drift off. 

***

When you first woke up, you were met with Coriolanus’ perceptive eyes staring back at you.

“Coryo?” you asked. 

“How do you feel? Does it hurt?” 

You wanted to answer, but your mouth felt as if it were made of lead. Coriolanus shouted for the nurses to bring you water, yet before he had even turned his head to you again, you were fast asleep. He sighed. 

***

The cut wasn’t deep. 

That’s what the doctors from district eight said, their heads hung low in shame. You were alone upon waking this time, spare for the nurse they had left to take care of you. 

“Coriolanus,” you said. “Where is he?”

“He just left to get some rest, ma’am. We sent him away for an hour fifteen minutes ago. He’d been sitting here all night.” 

“I want to see him.”

“It would be unwise to deny him his sl—”

You stood up and walked out, much to the nurses’ dismay. 

After a ride to the inn in which all of you were staying, you walked into the hallway that you knew belonged to the boys.

You had no idea where Coriolanus’ room was, but thankfully you met Sejanus just as he was leaving his room. 

His eyes lit up as he saw you. “Y/N! You’re okay, thank god. I was so wor—”

“Where is Coryo?” 

He stopped, smile falling the littlest bit. “Last room to the left.” 

You smiled and patted his shoulder. “Thanks.” 

You knocked on the door three times and stood silent, waiting. After half a minute, you heard his voice—husky and deep—telling you to come in. 

He was standing by the window, looking out at the desolate district eight. The back of his new shirt was just barely holding out the strain his muscles created as he crossed his arms. 

You cleared your throat. “Coriolanus.” 

Clearly not expecting it to be you, Coriolanus turned on his heel, sporting a smile as he saw your face. You had changed clothes—another tiny skirt and shirt adorned your body. You were walking without difficulty, just like the doctors had foreseen, perhaps even more confidently, with your head high.

He expected you throw yourself into his arms, or maybe pull his hair and kiss him, but he absolutely didn’t expect you to cross your arms over your chest and ask him: 

“Have you lost your mind?” 

“Sorry?” he asked, frowning. 

You took a step back, biting the inside of your cheek. “What have you done? What have you done, Coriolanus?” 

He looked into your eyes in search of disgust, terrified, but found only worry. You were worried for him. Not them, not that man, not your reputation and the rumors—you were worried for him.

His gaze flicked down to your bare legs, no scar left from the incident, and then up to where your stop was squeezing your tits together. Did you come in here to scold or seduce him? He really could not tell. 

He took a step in your direction, reveling in the way your resolve was starting to fade, lower lip trembling. “I was protecting you.”

“You didn’t have to kill him! You didn’t have to kill them all like animals!” 

At this, something switched. He snorted, almost mockingly. Against your will, you felt your panties getting sticky when he walked closer and closer, until he had you backed against the wall. One of his hands rested next to your head while the other he ran over your cheek, stopping to cup your jaw. 

“You don’t think he would have aimed higher if he’d gotten the chance? You don’t think you’d be dead if it weren’t for me?” His hot breath landed on your lips and you swallowed. He dragged his finger along your lower lip and you opened your mouth obediently, making his lips curve into a smile. “Now be a good girl and say thank you.” 

Your legs rubbed against one another subtly. “Thank you, Coryo.” 

“For what?” He slapped the inside of your thigh, making you jolt. 

“For protecting me.” 

His fingers crawled up your thigh to soothe the place he had slapped, rubbing small circles against your sensitive skin. It was embarrassing, how damp your panties were and how you had to press your lips together in order to avoid letting a whimper slip. The poor lighting cast shadows on his face, blonde curls falling just above his eyes.

He was devouring you even though he’d barely touched you. 

“You’re trembling,” he said, eyes twinkling. 

“It’s the cut.”

He tsked, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “Liars don’t get rewards, sweetheart. I thought I’d made that clear.” 

He saw your nipples straining against the thin fabric of your shirt and tightened his jaw. You were here to seduce him, definitely. His desperate little girl. Funny how you had such a dirty mouth until his hands were on you—then, you seemed to go entirely limp and thoughtless. One of his hands snaked to the back of your head, the other stayed touching your thigh—too far away from the place you wanted it to be. 

“Kiss me,” you pleaded, standing on your tiptoes to reach him, but he just pulled you down by your hair. 

“No. Not until you beg me for it.”

You scoffed shakily, reclaiming the very remnants of your dignity. “I won’t beg you for a kiss.” 

He pressed his chest against your sensitive tits, pulling at your hair so your noses were touching. 

“Don’t I deserve it after everything I’ve done for you?”

“I didn’t ask you to do it.”

“But you liked it,” he remarked, sliding his warm hand up your shirt, until he could fiddle with the hem of your panties. His fingers tapped against your clothed pussy only once, making you jolt, before returning to the spot between your hip and leg. “You liked having someone kill for you. Just as you like when I touch you and when I care for your attention.”

“I don’t—” 

“I think you’ve had a little too much being a brat, though. Now it’s my turn.” He slapped your pussy through the fabric and this time, you didn’t manage to hold back a whimper. “Beg. Me.” 

“Please,” you whispered, face hot. 

“What was that?” He pretended not to hear, leaning down even more. You wanted to punch him for his self-importance, for his cruelty, but it was what you craved, too—you’d take everything he gave you, although you’d never say it out loud. 

“Please kiss me.” 

His hands left you entirely before they cupped either of your cheeks. Your heart hammered in excitement watching Coryo’s eyes feeding on the sight of you. He lowered his head slowly, connecting your lips so softly you almost didn’t feel it. You tried to grab his collar and bring him closer, but then he just pulled away and sent you a pointed look which made you retract your hands. 

Then, he kissed you again—this time pressing harder against you, making your eyes flutter shut. His fingers held you softly, as though you could break any moment, but his lips enveloped yours like he had been waiting for the opportunity for years. 

You opened your mouth immediately as he licked at your lower lip and he hummed in appreciation. His fingers tilted your head as he slipped his tongue inside. He was hot against your own tongue, swirling and exploring, not letting you breathe out anything except small, timid whimpers. He smelled like roses, tasted like them too.

Your hands wandered to his broad shoulders, then down his clothed chest, his solid muscles against your fingertips. They flexed underneath your touch, a throaty groan of Coryo’s disappearing in your conjoined mouths. Your mouth watered at merely the thought of seeing them bare, seeing him. 

Coriolanus pulled away only when he had to take a breath—angry at this humane obstacle in his way but soothed upon seeing your swollen, parted lips.

“You’re nothing without me,” he rasped out, trapping your jaw between his thumb and pointer. “Say it back.”

You looked at him through hazy eyes. “I’m nothing without you.”

He pushed you against the wall, lips against your jawline. He sucked a mark into your neck and you mewled out his name, tangling your fingers in his hair. His tongue ran over your throat, then swirled around your collarbones as he pressed wet kisses to them and your stomach. 

Once he reached the waistband of your skirt, he dropped to his knees, looking up. You felt something turn in your stomach; the heat between your legs intensified tenfold.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and pulled them down your legs languidly. Once gone from your body, he picked them up and dangled them in front of your face. You tried snatching them from him, but he just stuffed them into the pocket of his pants. 

“For later,” he said, smiling. “To remind me what a desperate little girl you are.” 

“I’m not—”

He cut you off by bunching your skirt up around your hips. The cold air made you shiver lightly, but his eyes set on the most intimate part of you like he was about to eat you didn’t really help, either.

Before you could look away from embarrassment, he dragged his nose through your slick folds. You let out a choked gasp as he came in contact with your clit. His hands slid up to your upper thighs, squeezing and prying them apart so you weren’t in the way for him to take his time. And he did take his time—painfully so. 

After almost five minutes of aimless fingers trailing over your cunt but never touching for too long and never on your clit, you let out a loud whine, legs fighting against his grip to close. To no avail, of course—Coryo was much stronger than you and very intent on keeping you in place. 

“Be patient,” he murmured into your heat. His eyes flicked up as a warning and you instantly stilled. 

His tongue finally touched you in the form of small kitten licks on your clit that made your breath ragged and fists tighten. He saw you tightening around nothing, heard you whining pathetically for more and mercifully let his tongue enter your warmth. You clenched around him immediately. 

He pulled his mouth off of you momentarily to look up at your pretty face twisted in clear rapture. 

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” 

When you didn’t answer, he brought down his hand to swat at your clit disapprovingly. You squirmed at the contact, slick practically dripping out of your cunt. His eyes met yours and you quivered, suddenly afraid he’d stop. 

“Yes,” you whimpered. “So much.” 

As a reward, he pushed two fingers into your pussy, watching as you gasped for air, furrowing your brows. He scissored them a little bit, then dipped his thumb into the arousal coating your cunt and let it rub small circles into your already puffy clit.

Your legs felt weak already and he must have sensed this, because he grabbed your thigh and positioned it on his shoulder. This way, he could curl his fingers enough to hit the spot which made you whimper so loudly it was shameful. 

Soon, his thumb was replaced with his mouth that sucked your tiny clit into his mouth.

He heard you moan his name and felt his pants tighten significantly. Part of him hoped everyone could hear the noises you were making, while another part of him felt the urge to murder anyone who dared even overhear these sounds that were innately his possession.

From his position, he could see your tits brushing against your thin shirt and cursed himself for not being in a spot that would allow him to play with them. He’d have to settle for playing with your cute little cunt. 

Your legs started shaking when he added another finger to pump in and out of your dripping hole. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, hips bucking into his face. “Feels so good, Coryo, thank you.” 

A guttural moan of his vibrated through your body and you cried out his name. A warm coil began tightening in your lower stomach. It was clear you were close—from the way your whimpers had grown unabashed and squeaky, the way you clenched around his long fingers, the way your hips stuttered against his tongue. 

“Oh my god, Coryo, I’m so close— Can I come?” 

So polite, he thought. Shame you only acted like this when his tongue was flicking at your clit. 

His eyes glimmered as he looked up at you. “Only if you ask nicely.”

“Please, please, let me come, please, Coryo.” You let out a broken moan as his teeth grazed your clit. “Please.” 

Your legs spasmed around his head as you felt it close, so close, and your eyes fell shut in pleasure.

But then it was ripped from you, this bliss, as Coriolanus pulled out his fingers and retracted his tongue, leaving you empty and stunned. You stared at him, lips parted, and at the self-satisfied smile adorning his features. 

“What, you really thought I’d let you come when you’ve been acting like a brat?” He licked his fingers and something throbbed between your legs. “Stupid girl.” 

He stood up, turning his back on you. You couldn’t see it, of course, but he was silently counting the seconds it took for you to protest against the treatment. Finally, you retrieved your consciousness in full and pushed yourself off the wall. 

“Wait, Coryo,” you pleaded, grabbing his arm. “Please. I’m sorry.”

He turned, raising his brows. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry. I’m gonna be a good girl now, I promise.” Your lower lip quivered; he saw the promise of tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m gonna make it up to you, okay?”

At this, you sank to your knees—a sight which made his adam’s apple bob. But he was getting impatient; his cock was aching painfully and when you looked at him with eyes widened and teary like this, he was willing to give you anything in the world. 

“Get up,” he demanded. 

You did as told, thighs trembling slightly, and his hands cupped your cheeks. Coriolanus led you to the bed in the middle of the room, hovering above you with his forearms on either side of your face. His hardened cock rubbed uncomfortably against the fabric of his pants. He laid it against your plush thigh for relief, but all he got was a slutty mewl from you and more precum leaking from his tip. 

“Sejanus is next door, you know. You don’t mind?”

“No.” You shook your head eagerly. “I don’t care. Just want your cock.”

The side of his mouth lifted as his hands slipped under your shirt. You gasped as his fingers found your nipples and pinched them, tantalizing your poor clit to start throbbing harder. He pulled the skimpy shirt over your head and threw it away somewhere, letting out an audible groan at the sight of you. Next to go was your skirt. 

He stayed staring at you for some time before he suddenly landed a slap to your cunt, making you jolt with a whimper. Then, he leaned to press open mouthed kisses against your throat, sucking the skin that covered your pulse into his mouth. 

His lips grazed your jaw. “You want him to hear, then? Is that it?”

“N-no,” you whispered shakily, feeling the tips of his fingers teasing your perky nipples. “No, Coryo, just want you.” 

“Say it again.” 

“I want you, Coryo, only you. I’m yours.” 

Coriolanus let your fingers slip under his shirt, letting out a shaky breath as you traced his abdominal muscles. He helped you pull it over his head, then he pulled down his pants and briefs as well. You watched hazily at his cock free from its restraints, certain if he’d tease you anymore you would start drooling for real. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t in the mood for teasing—he slapped his dick against your clit once, twice, watching you squirm, then positioned himself at your entrance.

Your foreheads touched as he pushed inside agonizingly slowly.

“I’m yours, too,” he whispered against your mouth. 

He was decently thick and longer than average—even lying still in your cunt, he reached places your fingers couldn’t dream of. Your eyes had a hard time staying open in facing the fullness which came with having him inside, but he was having none of it. 

“Look at me when I fuck you,” he said.

“But you’re not even fucking me.” 

You felt his cock pulse inside you before his hands roughly grabbed your thighs and pushed them up against your chest. This newfound angle was overwhelming in itself—when he additionally began thrusting his cock in and out of your cunt, you saw stars. You let out small noises, but he paid them no mind, leaning forward to have a good look at your face.

“Who knew the academy’s best student was such a fucking slut?” he tilted his head, ignoring your nails clawing at his biceps. “Guess words aren’t enough, hmm? I need to fuck that arrogance out of my sweet girl?” 

You didn’t reply; he didn’t expect you to. His cock found that spot that made your toes curl faster than you could have expected. When he hit it for the first time, you let out a whimper close to a shriek in volume. Instead of slowing down, he just went harder, his hips slapping against yours in the otherwise silent room. He thought Sejanus probably was able to hear it all. 

It was easy for him to slip his thumb between your parted lips; even easier to coax you with a gentle slap to your slack jaw to suck on it. Your mouth wrapped around it and he groaned, pushing your thighs further against your tits. He saw your eyes glossing over, felt your poorly suppressed moans against his finger.

And god, you were so compliant to his touch, so perfect. 

“Spread your legs,” Coryo said, moving his hands away.

You obeyed to your best ability, practically letting your thighs fall limply at your sides. He spread them further and sank deep into your dripping pussy. Your slick had made a mess of the sheets below, creating a small puddle in the white material.

His fingers grabbed both of your wrists and placed them on your lower stomach. One of his hands kept them in place while the other played with your sensitive nipples, twisting them until a couple tears escaped your eyes. 

“Don’t move your hands.” 

When you nodded weakly, both his hands grabbed your waist, guiding you back and forth to meet his relentless thrusts. He could see the vague outline of his cock in your stomach, your tits bouncing deliciously before him with each abusing rut into your cunt. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled, lightly tapping at your clit. 

Your walls sucked him in like it was all you were made for, fluttering around his cock and leaving a creamy ring at the base of it.  He wanted to fill you up—not only with his cock, but with his cum, wanted to watch it leak out onto this bed, wanted to hear you beg him to stop. Him, only him. He wanted you forever. 

Coryo leaned down to connect his lips to yours, teeth napping at your lower lip. You were whimpering, mewling his name, and he tightened his grip on your waist. He pushed you further down on his cock, again and again. 

“How does being the first lady of Panem sound, huh?” 

You just nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks in reaction to his cock bullying the gummy spot in your cunt.

“Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked, rubbing tight circles into your clit. “I’d give you everything you want. You hear me, sweetheart? Everything.” 

His hips rutted into you so roughly your vision was hazy, but clear enough to grab at his sturdy shoulders. You had disobeyed what he said, but it seemed he was unaware, chasing his own high.

His cock was thrusting into the right spot repeatedly, fingers maneuvering your clit so that you almost screamed, slick practically gushing out of your hole.  

“Fuck,” you whined out, feeling your pussy pulsating. “Coryo, I’m—”

“Yeah, I know. Come for me, sweetheart.” 

You let go and so did he—seed spilling into your cunt as you clenched around him. You sobbed his name and in an attempt to soothe you, he planted kisses along your collarbones. He let you ride out your orgasm against his hand before he pulled out.

Vaguely, you could see his cum spilling out of you and onto the sheets. 

Before you could even make an attempt at calming down your heart rate, he stuck two of his fingers into you again. 

“Too much,” you whimpered, but he paid you no mind, stuffing his cum back into your swollen cunt. Too tired to move, you let him do it, only mewling his name softly from time to time.

Once he was done, he licked his fingers clean and smiled alluringly. You scooted closer to kiss him—he tasted of you and him combined. His hands cupped your face as you both lay down, facing one another. 

“You’re nothing without me, either,” you said, running your finger down his exposed chest. “Mr. President.”

His grin widened. “That’s right, sweetheart.”

TAGLIST: @peterpan-neverfails @urfavevirgoo @sayyysss @hwajin @hoshiseon @atrwriting

also big thank you to kathy, kiza and lex for being my enablers! ilyy

[lynk-zee]

hey lynnie,

Ok so there's this tweet "(my gf can) dress slutty I can fight" by a guy right. I don't necessarily think he means dress slutty on purpose but like if his gf wants to express her fashion in a more sensual way, he supports and defends her right to do so. Could you do a scenario where MC/reader know she looks good and flaunts it and the lads don't mind? They're also willing to step in and remind any entitled creep to stay in their place. I'm really curious to see Rafayel's thoughts on this but all would be great.

“Dress Slutty, I Can Fight.”

Rafayel always wants you to feel good about yourself. He’ll buy you lavish jewelry, designer clothes, and ask you to give him a fashion show so he can see them on you. That being said, fashionable clothes sometimes is less about the type of fabric and more about the lack there of. And he’s here for it! He walks with you on his arm with pride, wearing whatever you want, flaunting your assets, and strutting your stuff. He thinks you’re gorgeous, like a work of art! And art is meant to be admired.

Though, when it comes to creeps checking you out longer than appropriate, he gets a bit protective. If he notices someone checking out your ass in that skimpy little outfit of yours, he cop a squeeze, smirking right at the perp. As if saying “look what I have that you don’t”

If his glare doesn’t deter the creep from looking at you, Rafayel will call him out in front of everyone.

“Do you mind? I know my partners hot as fuck but keep your eyes to yourself, damn!”

Usually it doesn’t escalate from there, the perp feeling thoroughly embarrassed from being called out like that in public. But if it does, Rafayel will handle it.

“It’s okay, babe. I can fight”

Zayne absolutely loves spoiling you with the money he makes as a surgeon. Which mostly consists of clothes! Whatever you want, just point and he’ll get you it every color. Absolutely loves when you dress however you want. His main goal in life is for you to live as comfortably as possible. So if looking all dolled up in pretty makes you happy, go for it!

When you’re dressed up, he’d always have his hand on the small of your back, guiding you this way and that under his careful watch. He’s gotta keep his baby safe. If someone is staring at you for two long, they’d be frozen solid by Zayne’s evol.

Just kidding. More like frozen solid by his icy glare. Much like Rafayel, Zayne would make it public because he knows that most people will get intimidated by a large crowd.

“Could you not stare at my partner? We are trying to enjoy our night out.”

If the creeps too persistent, he’ll clench his jaw and place his jacket on you.

“Sorry, dear— could you give me a moment? That man over there seems like he wants to talk.”

Zaddy

In all seriousness, Zayne really wouldn’t resort to violence because he has standards to uphold. But he definitely would stand his ground and tell the creep off. Your comfort is his utmost priority. He won’t let some filth make you feel self-conscious.

Xavier’s all for your slutty era. You look beautiful, he’s enjoying the view, it’s a win-win in his books. What he doesn’t enjoy is the amount of unwanted attention you garner when you dress up. Yes, it’s not your fault that you’re beautiful, he would never fault you for that. He’s just sick of the guys staring as if they have the right to. Absolutely not.

So, he marks the shit out of you. Your neck is covered in hickeys, branding you as his. They can look all they want, but with his arm around your waist and his marks on your neck, you’re his and his only. Wear less, he doesn’t care. He’ll just make sure his hand print on your ass peaks out from under your shorts.

If it gets too bad, we know Xavier would step in right away to stop it. He’s pretty blunt without meaning to, so when it’s intentional—sorry to any guy who even breathes in your direction. Sometimes you have to step in though because you know it’s game over if Xavier swings. But Xav will always protect you, so dress however you want. He just wants you to be happy.

“Ignore those creeps, my love. I’ll take care of it.

[sanguineterrain]

Would you be willing to write a Jason Todd x reader inspired by the bulletproof vest scene from Criminal Minds? Maybe it's early in their relationship and they're fussing after hearing he's been shot. Maybe with an annoyed Damian breaking up their flirting?

(Here is the scene if you don't know what I'm talking about!! youtube.com/watch?v=C2bjYavXWec)

Haha this was such a fun prompt! Thanks for sending 🩷 I love prompts inspired by tv scenes

jason todd x gn!reader. minor injury, fluff, suggestive/implied nsfw, making out, implied timkon

****

Jason opens the door, looking extra comfy in his GU sweatpants and a Wonder Woman t-shirt. His curls stick up in fifteen different directions, making him look like an overgrown chick.

You'd coo if your heart hadn't been in your stomach all night.

"Hey, ba—"

You launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The force of your embrace makes Jason stumble back a step. You suddenly remember his injury and reel back.

"Baby, what's goin' on?" His eyes are wide. Jason holds onto you, inspecting you right back.

"I'm so sorry!" you say, hands fluttering over his body. "Oh God, did I reopen stitches? Fuck, fuck—"

"Sweetheart." Jason places both hands on your shoulders and guides you away from the door. He kicks it shut with his foot. You both settle on the couch. "What're you talking about? Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" You sit up. Jason rests his head on the back of the couch, watching you. "God, Jason, you got shot! I heard you caught fire this morning so I got here as quickly as I could. Did I reopen stitches? Be honest because I swear to God, Jay, if you lie to me about that..."

"Honey. Oh my love. Y'know I'm crazy about ya?" Jason holds your face with both hands and squishes your cheeks. He's smiling. "I got shot in my bulletproof vest. No stitches required. Who told you I got shot?"

You take his hands and hold them to your chest. "Well, I was listening to the comms 'cause I can't sleep when you have overnight missions and—"

"You haven't slept all night?" Jason frowns. "Baby, you need to sleep."

You scoff. "None of that matters, Jay. What I'm hearing is that you still got shot!"

"'S not a big deal, honest. Just a few bruises. Leslie wrapped me up, see?"

Jason lifts his shirt. His ribs are wrapped in an ACE bandage. You feel around for a secret wound.

"No blood?" you ask, poking at the edges.

Jason laughs and catches your hand. He kisses your knuckles. "No, sweetness. No blood. 'S just a little sore." He lets his shirt fall. You're only a little disappointed by the loss of his bare skin.

"Why would Bruce send you out in a bulletproof vest? Of all the stupid—usually you wear your armor! That's actually bulletproof! Vests are bullet-resistant. That's like saying Gotham rats are toxin-proof. Just because they don't die from the Joker gas anymore doesn't mean they aren't higher than kites when it happens."

Jason kisses your cheek. It turns your insides ooey-gooey. He's always so warm, so solid.

"Mm. I'll call Merriam-Webster tomorrow and relate your beef with 'em. And to answer your question, I was undercover, so no armor. But I am fine. Okay?"

"I'll be the judge of that, mister."

You hike his shirt up to his neck and pat down his chest. Jason honest-to-God giggles, which only encourages you. You pinch the soft skin under his biceps, then kiss down his sternum. He squirms, sliding so he's lying on the couch.

"Tickles," Jason says, letting you love on him.

"Excuse me, sir, I'm trying to conduct a very serious medical examination," you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "I think I'll need a closer look at these."

You kiss Jason's right pectoral, and his face flushes pink like it always does because you know how sensitive he is there and how his sensitivity makes him shy. Your mouth grazes his nipple and a tiny grunt pushes out of his throat.

"'M just a piece of meat to you, huh?" He catches you with a hand on your hip.

You smile and nip his neck, careful of his bandage. Jason's breath hitches.

"Please, baby, show mercy. Want me to get on my knees an' beg? I will."

"Sir, that is highly unprofessional language for this procedure. I'm afraid I'll have to give you an oral exam to see what's causing that filthy mouth of yours."

"Yeah, I'll show you filthy," Jason murmurs, cupping the back of your head. "Let's see how filthy y'get when I—"

"Oh my God, stop."

"Todd!"

You freeze with Jason's mouth on your neck and your shirt rucked up. Tim and Damian are at the edge of the living room. Tim looks nauseous. Damian's mouth is shriveled like a prune.

You scramble off of Jason, mortified, and smooth down your shirt. Jason leisurely turns his head, still holding onto you. He sighs.

"What d'you brats want?"

"To erase the last sixty seconds from my brain," Tim says.

Jason grins, all teeth. "That can be arranged."

You roll your eyes. "We're sorry, guys. Did you need Jason?"

"Yes. Father wants you back at the Cave immediately for debrief," Damian says, glancing at Jason's exposed bandages with tangible disgust.

You tug down Jason's shirt. His mouth quirks briefly before he registers his brother's request.

"Oh, hell to the fucking no. I got back two hours ago. Tell him to fuck off."

"I think you tell him enough for all of us," Tim says. "It's just a debrief. Babs started timing him and he's been good about keeping them short."

"He can email me. I'm not going to the Cave for a damn debrief."

Tim squints at Jason, then you. "I see. You know, you're awfully energetic for someone who should be recovering. Leslie benched Dick the last time he overexerted himself."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be speaking about exertion after what you and Connor did at the Kents' fourth of July picnic last year, Timbelina."

Tim somehow turns more pale. Damian whips his head around.

"Drake? What is he talking about?"

"Nothing. C'mon, Damian, let's go. Jason can debrief later."

He hauls a protesting Damian out the fire escape. Jason waves after them.

"Uh-huh, take care now, bye-bye! Close the window on your way out!"

The window slams shut. You look at Jason, eyes wide.

"What...?"

He shrugs. "Brotherly blackmail. All in good spirit."

"I see. You really don't need to go? I can wait."

"Nah. Bruce can wait. I have a very important injury that needs tending to."

You roll your eyes, smiling. "Uh-huh. Are you sure you're okay?"

Jason kisses you. "Positive," he says against your mouth. "This is nothing. But I appreciate you worrying about little ol' me."

"I'll always worry about you, Jay."

He ducks his head and nudges your neck like a cat. "I know, baby. 'S why I'm the luckiest guy in the whole wide world."

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. Doing a hot lap together with him driving. (You choose which circuit) Thanks!! :)(

Hold on tight

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader

Summary: Toto and Y/N Wolff’s Nürburgring hot lap showcases Y/N’s hilarious reactions to Toto’s driving, with Jack adding his adorable excitement.

Because I thought it was very similar to the other Fics I’ve written I made this one in to part four of the social media Toto Wolff x wife!reader fic series

Part one: Unscripted Moments

Part two: A guide to modern slang

Part three: Getting It Right (and Wrong)

________________________________________________________

The sun was shining brightly over the Nürburgring, casting a golden glow on the iconic circuit as you and Toto prepared for yet another video, the third in a series that had quickly become a fan-favorite. The sleek Mercedes-AMG GT gleamed behind you, the anticipation of what was to come buzzing in the air.

Standing side by side, you and Toto exchanged playful glances as the camera crew set up. This wasn’t your first rodeo; the first video had been a fun “This or That” challenge, where you’d both revealed surprising things about each other. The second video had tested your knowledge of Gen Z slang, which had led to a lot of laughs—and a few hilarious misinterpretations on Toto’s part. But this time, things were about to get a lot more intense.

As the camera began to roll, you and Toto turned to face it, ready to introduce what was sure to be a wild ride.

“Hello, everyone!” Toto greeted the camera with his signature grin. “Welcome back! For those of you who’ve been following along, you’ll know that we’ve done a couple of fun videos already—first, a ‘This or That’ challenge, and then we tried to guess some Gen Z slang. Both were… let’s say, very educational,” he added with a wink in your direction.

You chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Educational is one word for it. I think we both learned that Toto is definitely not up-to-date with the latest slang.”

Toto laughed, shaking his head. “True. But today, we’re doing something completely different. And a bit more in my territory. We’re here at the Nürburgring, and we’re about to do a hot lap in this beautiful Mercedes-AMG GT.”

You turned to the camera with a slightly nervous smile. “Which means I’m going to be the terrified passenger, holding on for dear life, while this guy here,” you nudged Toto, “drives like a madman.”

Toto put his arm around your waist, grinning widely. “She says madman, I say skilled professional.”

“Tomato, tomato,” you replied with a smirk, earning a chuckle from the camera crew.

One of the cameramen stepped forward, asking, “So, Y/N, on a scale of 1 to 10, how nervous are you?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Eleven. Definitely an eleven.”

The cameraman then turned to Toto. “And how excited are you?”

Toto grinned, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “A solid twelve. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at the camera. “Well, there you have it. I’m nervous, he’s excited, and we’re about to take off. Wish me luck!”

Toto opened the passenger door for you with a teasing flourish. “Your chariot awaits, madame.”

You took a deep breath and slid into the seat, glancing up at him with a mix of affection and exasperation. “Just remember, we’re doing this for the fans. And don’t forget—I’m holding on to whatever I can if you scare me.”

Toto chuckled as he settled into the driver’s seat. “I’ll try to keep it interesting. Ready?”

“Not really,” you admitted, your voice a mix of nerves and excitement as you buckled your seatbelt.

With that, Toto started the engine, and the car roared to life. He shot you a quick grin before hitting the accelerator, and the Nürburgring immediately became a blur around you. The speed and intensity of the hot lap were unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, and as the car whipped through sharp turns, you instinctively reached out, gripping Toto’s arm.

“Toto, langsam!” you yelled, slipping into German as the adrenaline took over. “Du bist wahnsinnig! Scheiße!” ("Toto, slow down! You're insane! Shit!")

Toto only laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “Liebling, bitte,” ("Darling, please,") he replied with mock seriousness, the grin on his face widening as he expertly navigated another sharp corner. “This is just getting started!”

“Fucking hell,” you muttered in English, switching between the languages as the car sped through another tight curve. “I’m holding on to you whether you like it or not!”

As the car took a particularly steep turn, you instinctively grabbed onto Toto’s leg, holding on for dear life. “Verdammt, Toto! Du bist verrückt!” ("Damn it, Toto! You're crazy!")

Toto glanced down at your hand on his leg and shot you a teasing look. “Oh, holding onto my leg now? Didn’t know you were so eager, Schatz.”

Despite the fear coursing through you, you managed a glare. “Not the time for jokes!”

He just laughed again, thoroughly enjoying your flustered state. “You know, there are other times when I wouldn’t mind you holding onto me like that…”

“Toto!” you exclaimed, your face flushing as the car finally began to slow down, signaling the end of the lap.

Toto brought the car to a smooth stop in the pit lane, turning to you with a wide grin. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “Fun is relative. I think I just aged ten years.”

As you both got out of the car, the camera crew was still filming, capturing every moment. One of the cameramen walked over, grinning. “That was amazing! The fans are going to love this. You two are hilarious together.”

Toto chuckled, clearly pleased. “She’s the best co-driver I could ask for.”

Before you could respond, you heard the sound of little footsteps running towards you. Jack came charging over, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Mommy!” Jack called out, reaching up for you as he ran to your side.

You bent down, scooping him up into your arms, feeling a wave of relief and joy as you held him close. “Hey, sweetheart,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Did you have fun watching?”

Jack nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with wonder. “You were so fast, Mommy! Like a race car driver!”

Toto walked over, wrapping an arm around your waist and giving Jack a playful ruffle of his hair. “Your mom was very brave, wasn’t she, Jack?”

Jack nodded again, looking up at you with wide, admiring eyes. “Yeah! But why were you holding onto Daddy’s leg?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your face flushing as you glanced at Toto, who was grinning mischievously. “Well, Daddy was driving really fast, and it was a little scary.”

Toto leaned in close, his voice low and teasing as he whispered just for you to hear, “I didn’t mind it at all, you holding onto me like that… Maybe we could try that again later?”

You blushed, swatting at him playfully. “Behave yourself.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Can’t promise that, Schatz.”

Jack giggled, oblivious to the teasing between his parents. “Can I come with you next time, Daddy?”

Toto smiled, his hand gently squeezing Jack’s. “Maybe when you’re a little older, buddy. For now, let’s keep your mom safe from my driving.”

You laughed, leaning into Toto as you held Jack close. “Yes, let’s do that.”

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 9

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

A/N: sorry this took so long, but i hope y'all enjoy! Can't wait to hear what you think of it 💕

-🐺-

As soon as the chinook touched down, you awakened to scorching Mexican heat and an achingly dry mouth. The hot air left you clacking your tongue in disgust at the tacky taste of sleep, but lucky for you Price was ready with a bottle of water. Barely seconds after downing half of it like a floundering fish, you were hauling yourself out with Gaz. 

You didn’t get very long to look around once out. After taking a precautionary glance around the military base and scoping the dusty buildings, the three of you were soon greeted by a tall smiling man with his arms folded. Meanwhile his stocky, straight faced hybrid companion hung back to his right. You could feel his unshifting gaze on you the moment you’d stepped out the helicopter. 

It was a surprise, afterall it’d been so long since you’d worked with another of your kind. He was a wolf just like you, but his ears were a soft bark like brown and his tail swished straight down the way, perfect and unbroken despite his field of work. When you flicked your eyes back to his you could see him looking you up and down with the same assessing stare. 

“Good to see you again, Captain. Garrick.” The tall man said, beaming at Price and nodding to Gaz before he then tilted his head at you. “And you brought backup, I see.”

“Not backup, Ale. This is Pup - 141’s newest recruit,” Price said, putting a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Pup, this is Colonel Alejandro Vargas and his hybrid partner Rodolfo Parra.”

“Rudy must’ve made quite the impression last time we worked together, eh?” Alejandro said, patting Rodolfo's Shoulder in turn. 

‘Rudy’ raised his eyebrows at that. Clearly he hadn’t expected to have had much of an influence on Price’s new hybrid, but now he was looking somewhat embarrassed at that inadvertent praise. His tail tucked into his leg revealing some of the ombré streak of tan that ran through the back of it and his ears settled low to his head. 

“Well he, more than any other hybrid before, certainly showed me there’s a lot of merit in having a multi-species team,” Price shrugged. “Pup was the one to convince us, took em out on a mission and Pup was solid.”

“Is that so? I look forward to working with you then, Pup,” Alejandro said, directing an easy smile in your direction. “Are you all ready to head to the target location? I can finish briefing you all in the ride over.”

“Yeah, best get on with it,” Price nodded. 

With that, you all walked round to the head of the massive jeep convoy and loaded yourselves in. 

Even after being told it was legit, there was a part of you that had been deeply suspicious that Price had made up a goose chase just to get you out of the kennels all the way up until the ride in the jeep. A little ghost of warmth had filled you at the idea your Captain cared so much. Even when he’d dispelled that once he’d gotten to talking about strategy with Alejandro, you couldn’t help but feel he’d taken you when he might not have in any other situation. Especially when it was likely you’d be forced into all out assault against heavy fire. Some might’ve resented that, but you could only shift around in anticipation, tail wagging around like a cat toy. 

You were all going to be storming through the forest and taking down a cartel in hopes of finding a connection that had another connection through which you’d find the arms dealers that the 141 had been tasked with taking down. Not complicated at all. Well, Alejandro and Price’s explanation was somewhat complicated, you’d almost gone cross eyed trying to follow all the names, but Gaz was kind enough to whisper in your ear and fill you in on the local groups that they were discussing. 

The whole time Rudy watched you out of the corner of his eye. You could see them practically cutting through the mirror. The way he seemed to frown, you could only assume he had some kind of a problem or was at least wary with you. However he didn’t voice any concerns. Merely kept his ears folded downward in obvious discontent. 

-🐺-

“Pup, what the fuck did I tell you? Stay close!” 

Within no time, the forest was like an impressionist painting. Streaks of dark spots dotted themselves in amongst the twisty trees and blended through the foliage before firing and lighting up their spots, forcing themselves to shift once more. 

To the humans you were with, it would be utter chaos. To you and Rudy, it was all background distraction. You could smell the people, you didn’t have to look for them. Even despite the ear protection you wore, you could still hear their shifting feet clumsily beating through the brush.

And so the two of you found yourselves standing over a body, mouths covered in blood, yours plastered with a smirk while he took to a coy smile. The man had been about to take a shot, aiming for either your boys or Alejandro. Though before he could fire he was interrupted by Rudy yanking the gun back and then you diving onto him, rendering the idiot gravely wounded until Rudy delivered a final blow. 

“We make a good team,” you said, cocking your head and listening out for more movements. 

Rudy snorted and turned away. 

“Maybe…but there’s still more work to do.”

When he stalked off you couldn’t help but frown, but ultimately you followed, there wasn’t the time to contemplate why he was so standoffish. There would be plenty of time for that when you and your team weren’t being hunted like an infestation. Not to mention Price was screaming in your ear about checking in and to report your condition. 

“Still operational, Captain,” you muttered. “Making my way back to you.” 

With that you were racing through the trees, eyes fuzzy and losing themselves in the darkness. Your instincts were sharply rising to the surface, the wolf within growing stronger every passing second. It felt like your veins were pumping hot lava. 

There were three men that crossed you on your way back to Price. The first fell to the floor and gurgled before he could even think about lining up a shot for you, the second fought bravely and managed to graze your arm with a bullet and bruise your neck a little in an effort to pull you off. The third had seemingly popped out of nowhere, he had to have been camped in his position like a sand snake. The sneaky bastard was about to land a bullseye, the barrel of his weapon practically kissed your temple. You thought you’d only had enough time to squeeze your eyes shut and draw back your ears.

Lucky for you though, Gaz shot first. 

“Were you listening when Price asked you to be careful, Pup?”

“Course I was. Don’t think that guy was though,” you grinned. 

“Bloody hybrids,” Price grunted through the comms. “You two on me. Now!”

Both you and Gaz joined Price once more and continued on your tear through the forest. More than once you ran into Rudy, but by that point you were too lost in the work to really take note. Blood had sponged into your clothes and dripped off your chin, your muscles were bunched with tension and your pupils felt wide as the moon. That primal side of you was fully present and awake and it had its claws caught so deep, there was a small part of you that worried about being stuck feral. 

All notion of that disappeared when Price commanded you to stop. His hand wound tight in your collar and suddenly your legs lost their momentum. You peered up at him wide eyed and out of breath, soon looking out of the corners of your eyes and searching for hidden dangers. You only made eye contact once you knew for certain you’d both be safe. 

“Easy, Pup,” he said soothingly, running a rough hand over your ears in gentle waves. “Easy. That’s it.”

“Why’ve we stopped?” You rasped, so high pitched it could almost have been a whine. 

“The compound is up ahead. We want you and Rudy with us. Can you follow my commands? Are you ready to go in?”

Price gestured at Alejandro and Rudy who were standing just off to the side of you. Rudy’s chest was rising and falling like a beating drum, but other than that, he looked composed and ready to strike. In comparison you felt like something of a tornado. 

For a few seconds you closed your eyes and breathed, slowly gaining awareness of your own thudding heart and the way the air tickled at the hollows of your ears. 1…2…1…2. You imagined Ghost’s deep rumble telling you to come back to yourself. Instantly your awareness sharpened. You could make out the faded scent of cigars that wafted through every fibre of Price’s being, and in that moment there was no greater comfort than something that had become so fmailliar. 

“Yeah…Ready, Captain,” you said with a gulp. 

Price nodded back at you and then to each member of your small group. Before long you were lead to the front of the treeline, staring at a big concrete eye sore that hid just below the tops of the great Cypruses so that it might stay hidden from the sky. There were a few slitted windows, one small doorway, plenty of opportunity for anyone that might try to get a lucky shot in. You couldn’t help but notice that the whole thing looked like a creature grimacing in pain. 

Alejandro clicked his tongue, then began to speak. 

“Ok, listen up. There’s only one entryway into this thing, so we’re going to need to manoeuvre round and then run like hell and take out whoever we can from the outside before it turns into a death funnel. It’s gonna be armed to the teeth once we’re inside, so we need to be fast and we need to spread out,” Alejandro said, his voice low while his eyes roamed the building. “Gaz and I want you up front with me so we can take shots inside while Price holds up the rear. Then, when it’s safe enough, we’ll send in the wolves to stir up a little carnage. I want you two to team up and take down who you can, overwhelm them and keep them panicked enough that they can’t get a shot on either of you.”

Gaz clenched his jaw as soon as it was mentioned that you’d be going in first. He shot a sharp look over at Price, but your Captain wasn’t giving anything away. You yanked your head around from where he was holding your collar and looked at him, trying to evaluate how he felt about that plan of attack. He was stoic as ever. 

“Let’s do it,” he said eventually, breathing deeply as if to punctuate his decision. 

He didn’t look in any mood to argue. Gaz probably evaluated things that way too because he didn’t say anything, but that didn’t stop him from giving a small nod of his head and keeping his eyes glued to you. It was as if he was saying that he’d be just behind you no matter what he was commanded anyway. 

You offered him a reassuring smile, or something like that as your lip didn’t quite fully curl. Your body was too busy preparing itself for attack, letting go of functions that didn’t facilitate your immediate survival. Your vision darkened by the second, but before your instincts burst fully to the forefront of your mind you couldn’t help but catch a little movement in the corner of your eyes. 

Alejandro wrapped a hand round the back of Rudy’s neck and pulled him close, touching his forehead to his hybrid’s. His lips moved quickly, he said something that sounded Spanish and then…kissed Rudy’s temple. Then just as quickly as he’d swooped in for a peck, he moved away again. Gaz and Price were too busy looking at you, they didn’t catch it, but they did catch your frown. 

“Alright, Pup?” Gaz asked, quickly picking up on your change of expression. “You alright with the plan?”

You blinked up at him. It took a little while until you mustered up the wherewithal to shake your head. The movement slowed as if it were moving through molasses 

“No, I’m fine with it Gaz,” you shrugged. “I infiltrate first most of the time anyway. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll worry anyway,” he said, flicking your ear from just over your helmet. “Don’t want anything to happen to my new favourite.”

You shook your head, but rather than let loose the grin that threatened to spill over your lips, you let the comment fuel you. That and Rudy and Alejandro’s little moment could wait till later. At that moment everything was about the building in front of you and the protection of your hard earned team. You wouldn’t let them down. For once you were happy to act as both the battering ram and shield, knowing you’d fight any man that threatened to take your men from you. 

Once Ale gave the go ahead, everything seemed to happen in double time. You, Price and Rudy took up the rear, running ahead through the panic with snarling jaws and weapons Primed. Price shot behind you all at any stragglers from the woods while you and Rudy moved to position yourselves for the door. A renewed fire lit your veins, and when you looked over you could see that Rudy looked much like you felt, his face focused and irises wide as cannonballs. 

As soon as Alejandro cried ‘go’ you were both let loose. Rudy flew high and you went low, both taking out the two men that filled the hallway like pillars. Your man screamed bloody murder when his femur was torn into and then squeaked when his genitals were shredded loose from his body. Rudy’s man didn’t have the chance to scream, his throat was torn out and slapped against the walls with a wet sound. 

The next few men were dispatched in equally gory fashion, blood spattered fourth and covered you both anew, your mouth fizzed with the taste of iron and tattered fabric. Saliva and plasma foamed down your chin, each new bite like a mouthful of unset jelly. It was that feeling that had your instincts invading, the battle in front of you fading as it blended into all the ones that came before it. 

-🐺-

“So you’re actually useful for something then! What a good mutt. We finally made a killer out of you, didn’t we? Can send you off to do some real work.”

The face in front of you tortured you like nothing else. That fucking tirelessly smug look, that scar that marred him seemed to deepen that unbearable smile, it stretched tight over his lips. He loomed just out of reach, no matter how hard you fought against the chain, you could never touch him. Could never reach no matter what you tried.  

“You just saved me a bullet, you vicious little bitch… I’ll let you into a secret too since you passed your test so spectacularly - It wouldn’t have been for him. Could’ve used him for the next dog after all.”

The body below you was cooling now. The man’s blood at your hands and feet only made you long all the more for Maddox’s, but there was no way he’d be stupid enough to allow you loose when so feral. Instead he took great joy in watching you choke yourself just for the chance of even laying a scratch on him, chuckling everytime you gagged.

-🐺-

“Pup! Behind!”

You squealed, clawing at the air as you were quite literally dragged back into the present. Someone was forcing you from your latest quarry, the man was still screaming and flailing around like a kicked puppy, throwing himself around with all the grace of a chew toy. The strangers’s hands brought you back and twisted you around to meet his gun, the burning scent of its barrel stinging your nostrils. Though before the metal could reach your head, you flung it upward with your fist. The noise of the shot ground into your ears like iron shavings, competing with your knuckles in a blindingly throbbing battle. 

Even with the generous ear protection you were given, you were still left reeling. Made dizzy and sent wobbling off to the wall by your left. The gun was lining up with you slowly, the man clearly affected by that same misfire. It was a race for both your lives. You pushed off the crumbling wall and threw yourself to his feet in a last ditch attempt to win. 

Another shot rang out. Your vision went black. Your body felt as if it had been buried at the bottom of an explosion, your lungs and back ached with pressure. A few more shots whizzed through the air, the individual pops were your only company through the darkness. That and a low rumbly voice that felt as if it were vibrating through your rattling skull. You're my good Pup, it said, I knew you had to be mine.

“Pup! Pup!”

Light flooded your eyes and the unforgiving weight on your back alleviated all at once. You were rolled around to meet wide brown eyes that searched over you in a wide sweeping motion. Gaz. He finished tossing the body that had lain on top of you and came to kneel directly in front of you so that he could get a better look. 

“Still breathing, Cap!” he shouted, his voice deliberately carrying past where you were lying. 

You flicked your eyes to the hallway beyond and noticed Price dragging someone into a room after acknowledging you both with a grunt and a quick glance. You didn’t recognise the man he was flinging through the doorway, but you could only assume it was the target. 

“I told you not to worry,” you groaned.

Gaz didn’t look the least bit amused. Neither did you after he hauled you up into his lap. You grimaced, hands instinctively flying to your side where pain had begun to radiate like a blooming lotus. The petals of that pain unfurled slowly, sending your breathing haywire. Fuck, did it hurt. It sent you cursing like a sailor. 

“Did that cunt actually shoot me?” You seethed, not willing to look down while you were trying to focus on breathing. 

“Fucking lucky that one didn’t. That one you were attacking first got you in the vest from further away before his friend fell on you. I got em’ both.”

“Ah…Makes sense that I’m not pink mist then. Thanks for that.”

Gaz turned you around, just so he could narrow his eyes at you. You could only tilt your head back, wondering why he was so perturbed. He didn’t look angry per se, it was like he wasn’t sure what to feel. His brows were heavy over his darkened eyes and his jaw ticked over as he tried to form words. You’d never seem him like that before.

“What happened to you?” he finally asked.

“What do you mean?” 

“Your eyes were pitch black, I’ve never seen you that far gone before. It was like you were possessed or something. Freaked me the fuck out.” He said, shaking his head. “So what happened?”

Had it been someone you hadn’t known you’d have told them to shove it. The rebuke was building on your tongue, practically clawing to come out. Though the concern on Gaz’s face stopped you from doing anything of the sort. You softened your gaze and looked off to his left, focusing on a tattered piece of wall and the ghost of a smile the bullet marks created. 

“Training took over. Maddox…he always…,” you stared so hard your vision doubled, the blurry face grinning back twice as much before you refocused on Gaz. “The wolf in me took the lead. I did my job and they went for me and not any of you. All that matters is you’re fine, Gaz.”

Gaz didn’t say anything to that. He continued to frown, and thought on it for a minute, staring down at the spot where the centre of your pain radiated outward. You began to wonder if it was pulsing visibly just as much as it was physically. However impossible that was. Just as he looked like he might have formed a response his chance to talk was taken from him. 

“Gaz, how’s Pup? Broken?” 

Price’s voice was all grit, he filled the silence like a sledgehammer. Gaz called back that you were going to be fine, just bruised and after another grunt of affirmation he was called to come assist in securing the asset. Alejandro sent Rudy to go watch over you. Gaz gave you a look that said he’d be talking to you later while he switched with Rudy, disappearing into the room and taking his palpable silence with him. 

Rudy didn’t show any of that same blinding concern once he reached you. If anything he looked like he might be bored, but you couldn’t tell with his face. He had a knack for appearing neutral, if not a bit startled at times. Looking so shifty as his ears flicked about, clearly not trusting that the base would stay conquered. 

“You’re still alive. Good for you,” he said at last, choosing a spot just in front of you to lean against. 

You snorted. His ears twitched irritably at the sound. 

“What? You disappointed?”

“No, just surprised,” he said simply.

You frowned back at him, but before you could bother to ask why, he elaborated. 

“They break all you British hybrids so bad, its like none of you even want to try staying alive.”

“What? They train you so much better over here do they? I never realised Mexico was such a paradise,” you said back, sneering over at him. “It’s no wonder your ears and tail aren’t even marked if you’re standing there looking down on me for the way i fight.”

Having said that, you were waiting for the fight to break out that normally would’ve happened with any of the bastards from your last base. All of you were raised on a hair trigger. Left to your own vengeance, so long as you didn’t cause any grievous wounds that stopped you working.

With that in mind you made a show of visibly switching off your comms, confident now that the fighting with the cartel was behind you that you could settle things in private. Rudy didn’t even bat an eye however, he tilted his head at you, but eventually did the same. Neither of you needed to disrupt the others with your bickering.  

“You think that your broken tail makes you a better soldier than me?”

There wasn’t a good response for that. If he’d engaged in your petty little fight, you might’ve said yes, but he was as calm as if he and you were sat waiting in a briefing room. As you tried to find a retort your ears flicked nervously around your head, dancing between being upright and flattened before they settled on pinning ever so slightly backwards. 

“Shows that I must be doing a good job staying alive if I’m still here despite it.”

He smiled at that, pursing his lips soon after. 

“Sure…I’ll let you have that. They call you ‘Pup’ for a reason I suppose.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you growled.

“Mean’s that you sulk just the same as one.”

You lunged for him and quickly regretted it when your ribs sent a stab of pain that tremoured through your whole body. Even while you did everything in your power not to make a noise, you were helpless in letting a small whine escape your throat. 

“Sound like one too. You should take it easy, you’ll have plenty time to get me back once you recover from that.”

You flipped him off in place of being able to take a swipe at him. Your breathing was getting ragged, so deep and frayed that you eventually committed to ripping your vest off and getting a look at your wound. Your arms burned with the effort it took, but the thing parted from you with a thunk and suddenly your body really let you know just how much you’d wrecked it. Traitorous thing, proving Rudy right. 

When your eyes landed on the island shaped bruise at your side, it took everything not to wretch. The thing was already a hundred different shades, looking ugly and dark and just as sore as it felt. Your eyes grew wet and you soon forgot all about the one sided argument you were having and closed them, begging yourself not to cry so that you could reserve the last scrap of your dignity. 

“That looks bad…Woah!”

You hadn’t realised, but in a fit of dizziness you’d begun to slide down the wall. Rudy stopped you from collapsing into a heap right at the last second. For second all you felt was air and then his cool hands on your skin. Not long after his peppery scent flooded through you, forcing you to stay in the room. He propped you up on his side and kept an arm curled against you, gripping onto your hip. 

“You good?” He asked, intense eyes flicking all over your face. 

They were like molten copper. He disarmed you instantly, chasing the rest of the fight out of your failing body. Even if you had been primed to start a boxing match only moments before you’d resolved to let him have his sense of superiority while you focused on staying upright.

Well, almost. 

“You just this touchy with everyone, yeah?” you asked, trying to distract him from how pathetic you’d turned. 

It was finally his turn to look confused.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, ears flicking around. 

“I saw you two lovebirds before we attacked,” you grinned, soon grimacing when you took a particularly hard breath. “Does he always give you a good luck kiss?”

Rudy looked like he wanted to throw you off of him, but by sheer goodness of his own heart prevented his hand from doing so. It didn’t stop his fingers gripping your hip tighter, his claws luckily grazing your good side. He stopped himself when he caught your wince.

“Don’t talk shit.”

“I’m not judging.”

“Sounds like you are,” he snorted. 

“If anything I’m jealous.”

That was supposed to be a joke. However your tone didn’t convey that. So for a second you were left blinking over at each other until Rudy clenched his jaw. His iron patience was wearing thin, the pickaxe that you were taking to it was apparently breaking through. All from that comment. It was then that you realised whatever he had with the colonel was more than just a little over affection. 

“Really? You want Ale?”

You gasped in shock, clutching your side and barking out in laughter. 

“Oh shit, no,” you cackled.

“Who then?”

“My handler obviously…apparently. Fuck me, how did we even get to talking about this?” you sighed, settling back against the wall. 

Rudy looked more relaxed now and he loosened his hold on your frame, his tongue lashed out against his lips and that gentle smile returned to his face.

“You got us onto the subject I believe. Which of them is your handler? Garrick?”

“Desperate to gossip now?” You asked, trying to let the subject die. 

Rudy wasn’t having that though. He was like a cat with a mouse, easily batting you between his big paws.

“It’s Garrick isn’t it? You were looking…moon eyed is the expression isn’t it?”

“I do not have moon eyes for anyone!” you groaned, knocking him with your shoulder and hurting him about as much as you did yourself. “Besides, I belong to Ghost not Gaz.”

Rudy’s eyebrows shot up so high you were almost sent into a new laughing fit imagining them coming clean off. He shook his head, eyebrows still firmly attached. The absurdity of the whole situation didn’t escape you. After being in a gunfight that almost ended your life, it seemed unlikely that you’d be stuck gossiping with your fellow hybrid afterward while there was a man most likely being beaten for information in the other room.

“Ghost?” he choked out. “No mames! That’s not someone you want a kiss from. He’d give you the kiss of death.”

“Maybe on you. He’s really quite sweet with me,” you grinned, “Reckon he’d give me a big peck on the head as well, just like Ale does with you.”

“Ghost. Sweet?”

“He is. We were having a romantic morning cuddling in bed just the other day,” you said faux wistfully. “Trading stories, sharing scents.”

“Ah, so that’s the nice British way of saying that you fuck. I’ll have to keep that in mind when Alejandro and I trade scents.”

It was your turn to risk losing your eyebrows to the sky. In fact you were so taken aback that your mouth went dry. Sure it wasn’t like you were a virgin, but you had thought it was rare that hybrids and humans had sex, nevermind navigated complicated handler relationships while doing the act. In fact that very idea opened up new avenues in your mind, sparked a little inkling of opportunity you hadn’t really consciously considered much before. 

“You and Alejandro are…together?”

You’d expected him to laugh or look offended or look panicked or something, but now that you two had found some kind of messed up common ground he didn’t give much away. He tilted his head at you and smiled indulgently. 

“Oh, so you weren’t just playing coy? Poor little Pup.”

“Poor little Pup nothing,” you said petulantly, folding your arms and willing the conversation away. “I’m a professional, I don’t shag my superiors.”

“It sounds like you’d like to though,” he chuckled, looking delighted with himself. “I’m right, am I not?”

“No,” you said squeaked out, body raising a hundred degrees just at the thought. 

All sorts of images flooded your mind. Ghost lying next to you just like he had been when he’d whisked you into his bed. Ghost dripping and wet from the rain, carrying you close to him, so close to him you could practically smell him through the mental haze. Ghost holding you against a wall while you trained, keeping you at bay while you waited to attack your fake target. Ghost’s unyielding grip on your collar. Relax Pup, I’ve got you. Thats it, keep it steady. 

“Oh well that’s definitely the face of someone that’s telling the truth,” he remarked slyly. 

“Go fuck yourself,” you huffed, shaking at the realisation that maybe that wasn’t even the first time that you’d considered being open to the idea of something else with Ghost…  

“I don’t have to. Maybe you can use that death wish of yours to ask for the same.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you groaned, now just trying to focus on staying upright.

“Alright then,” Rudy said, still smiling into the middle distance. “You’re the one that started talking shit anyway.”

“No don’t you start that shit, you’re the one-”

“You two!” Price barked.

Both your heads whipped around to the now open doorway where Ale and Gaz were busy dragging a hooded man while your Captain oversaw the whole thing. His face was grave and drawn, he looked battle worn and weary, but even beneath the layers of grime and awful mood you could see that his resolve stayed well intact. 

“Captain,” you said quietly, feeling like you had to acknowledge him in some way. 

Rudy said nothing, but gave a nod.

“We have a team coming out to meet us and escort this one back to Los Vaqueros’s base. Rudy, stay with Gaz and Ale. Pup, can you stand?”

You bit your lip, knowing how much your next movement would hurt, but sucking it up despite yourself. With a growl, you braced your hands beneath you and then clawed your way up the wall, coming to a shaky stand until you were all the way upright - almost all the way upright. Your hip kept you wonky on your feet, but otherwise you were able to stay in place. 

You shot him a shaky thumbs up. 

“Good. I’ll help you to evac. Once we get to base, you and me are going to have a talk.”

If your spirits hadn’t been thoroughly pissed on by that point, they were then. Your ears drooped low and you nodded slowly waiting at the wall like a naughty child until he was ready to prop you against his shoulder. 

Your thoughts raced at the possibilities of all he could want to talk about. So much had happened to you in such a short space of time, it felt like your mind was a skipping DVD. Scenes of carnage melded with the two officers in the hallway, both rooms melting together while flashing to Ghost, Price, Soap and Gaz training with you. All your team warred for for time with all your enemies, all the fighting you had done up to that point mingled with scenes from training hangars, bars with pool games and soft blue sheets draped over Ghost’s sprawling body. 

It was going to be a long ride back.

-🐺-

“You decent?”

You looked down at the puddle of water below your tail with unfocused eyes, the blurry edges of the water seemed to morph and change colours with the flickering lights above you. Shifting between pink, yellow and white. It had taken a while to get most of the blood out. Most being the operative word. Your uniform was hurled into the corner, too far gone to be worth washing or doing anything to save. Price had told you to chuck it once you were changed into the new clothes he’d pulled from your kit. 

“Yeah, I’m changed,” you finally answered back. 

You were a little soggy, but still you had changed and you were clean and your hair had been tended to first after getting your jogging bottoms and T-shirt on. All that was left was to finish brushing out your tail, your secret weapon against whatever words were about to come your way. From the way Price had been speaking to you, you could tell he wasn’t very happy. Brushing out the snarls from your fur would give you an excuse not to look at him. 

You were just starting to comb out the tip of the silvery fur when Price walked in, boots heavy against the tile. He filled the doorway like a barricade. 

“Come on,” he sighed, his voice even heavier now that he was so close to sleep. “Go sit on a bed, I need to get off my feet.”

“My tail’s still wet, I need to brush it out and dry it,” you said quickly, hoping that you weren’t giving him reason to be more annoyed.

“Fling a towel down. Whatever bed you sit on, I’ll take. Gaz can have the other one.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn’t dare question him further. Truth be told, when you’d been pushed toward the room and through the bathroom, you hadn’t thought much about what the bunking situation would be, but now that you were cognizant of the situation, it dawned on you that there was two twin beds beds out there and three soldiers to fill them. So you must be on the floor then. 

It didn’t matter. That wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. You took a dry towel and spread it out over the bed on the left hand side of the simple room, and taking a proper look around. There were two twin sized beds at the back of the room, a plain wooden dresser next to the doorway at the front, and of course the bathroom that you’d come out of to the left with a mirror stuck to the back of it. The walls were stark white, but thankfully there was a small window in the middle of the two beds, giving the room a little relief from the stark paint and yellow lighting. 

You jumped when Price came to sit next to you, avoiding touching the already wet towel, but sitting close enough you were dipping into him. It took a little adjusting so that you wouldn’t lean into him, but once you both got comfortable, you were soon left staring. Looking into the hard blue gaze that met yours like a set of angry headlights. 

“Gaz told me what you said.”

“W-what?” you whimpered, wondering what it was that he was referring to.

Had he heard your conversation with Rudy? You were so sure that door was closed. So sure that you could barely hear their mutterings in there. 

“He said that you told him you ‘did your job’. Do you know how many times we called out to you to come to heel, Pup?”

“I…No. No, Sir.”

“I asked you three times. Gaz asked you once before he had to take out the men that were on you. You did not ‘do your job’. You rushed ahead like a half crazed coyote and almost got yourself killed. And then what? What would I have told Ghost, hm?” Price growled, his breaths coming out fast and uneven. 

Your wet tail curled around you, scraggly strands drawing close to what little warmth was still in your body. It felt like you were growing colder by the second, frozen in Price’s icy stare. Your chest pumped feebly in order to keep your blood flow moving, though the way you were shaking you couldn’t be sure everything was working as it should. 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you murmured, your whole body curling in on itself like a slinky. 

“I’m sorry doesn’t cut it. I told you when you started with us that I don’t want you taking risks that threaten your life. You’re not disposable to my team, not to me, not to Gaz or Soap, and especially not to Ghost. You don’t ever get to a point where you start blacking out and rampaging out of control like that again. You hear me? Never.”

The breath from your body felt as if it had been robbed from you. Every little gear in your mind ground to a halt and suddenly all the possibilities of what might happen next were spread out in front of you, playing in tandem and haunting you with the awful consequences of your actions. Would Price punish you? Remove you from the team? Send you away? Take you back to Branhaven. 

“Look at me, Pup.”

You looked up immediately as if controlled by him. Everything in you was now coded to answer to his every call and do everything he said while you still could. All instincts pointed to serving him well before he made any decision to get rid of you. To try and preserve yourself now that the fighting was done. You could see your own dark reflection staring back at you in his pupils, the wilting frame of your body frozen there in the inky blackness.

“We gave you this collar because we knew you’re a great soldier and because we knew how well you’d work with our team and because we wanted to make you ours. This collar means you’re 141 for life,” Price said, tugging on it for good measure. “Don’t sit there looking sorry for yourself like I’m gonna send you packing or treat you like your old superiors would’ve. I’d have hoped that you knew me better by now. C’mere, you little sod.”

You didn’t get much of a chance to react. Price drew you into his arms and perched his head on yours, fanning your ears with his hot breath. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his hard frame and covering him with a soft outer layer of hybrid. Cigar smoke, bullet oil and musk be damned, his warmth and his scent felt heavenly on your senses. 

“What are we gonna do with you, ay? Bloody troublemaker.”

“I don’t mean to be,” you sniffed.

“Course you don’t. That’s why I’ve got a fitting punishment to get those tendencies in check.”

“Punishment?” you asked, stiffening in his arms. 

He drew back from you and nodded his head, not giving much away. He’d already told you he wasn’t going to treat you like your old superiors, but that didn’t do much to put you at ease. Just because you weren’t going to get a whipping, didn’t mean you were out of the woods. You had no idea what he had planned, searching his face dug up nothing. 

“Was on the phone to Ghost before I came to talk to you. We both agreed to set you up with a therapist. You’re getting a minimum of ten sessions booked in to start, and then after five we’re going to evaluate how many more you might need.”

You gawped at him, face going from a picture of worry and to one of indignant shock. A bloody therapist? That was his and Ghost’s big idea of a punishment? At that point you wondered if you might rather have one of your old punishments. What the hell were you going to say to a therapist? What were they going to say to you? Oh sorry your family abandoned you and left you to the proverbial wolves, maybe you’ll feel better if you talk about it. 

“I’m sorry, Sir, but I don’t know what a therapist is going to-”

“Don’t ‘sorry, Sir’ me and don’t you think for a second that you know better. You’re going and that’s final,” he said, tone so sharp that it cut off any room for argument. 

You gulped and suddenly were reminded of your place. Of your character. You were supposed to be meek and trying to grovel for forgiveness. All things considered, a few sessions of pretending to make emotional breakthroughs would probably be one of the easier challenges you’d have faced in your lifetime. 

“Ok…um…Sorry, Sir.”

“I think that’s enough sorries out of you, Pup,” he grumbled, ruffling his hands over your ears. “I think we’ve established how sorry you are. You can make it up to me by sorting your tail out and picking a bunkmate. Gaz is gonna come by with some food in a minute and then we’re all gonna get some sleep. You can talk to Ghost tomorrow.”

For yet another time you were left stunned. A bunkmate?

“A bunkmate?” You repeated out loud. 

“Only two beds,” Price said, as if you were stupid. “You can sleep with me or Gaz. I won’t be offended if you switch even after you’ve made my bed all wet.” 

Suddenly being faced with the choice of sharing a small bed with Price or Gaz after the conversation you’d just had and the conversation you’d had with Rudy earlier in the day was too much. Too much was happening to you! Where did life get off giving you the choices or lack thereof that it did? 

You must have looked a sight, staring into the dead air above the other bed like you’d seen a monster. On the one hand you figured that you could really use some comfort and the memory of how you felt after sleeping with Ghost was tamping your panic and convincing you that it would be ok, but on the other you were thinking about Rudy telling you to get it on with your teammates and that was bringing all sorts of embarrassing thoughts to light. How could you sleep next to them knowing that it might encourage those thoughts?

“I can just sleep on the floor, Price,” you said with what you hoped would be a convincing smile. “Done it plenty of times before.”

Price wasn’t having any of that. He paused at the bathroom door and fixed you with a tired stare. 

“Choose or I’ll choose for you.”

“No really, I can just use my bag as a pillow and-“

Price laughed dryly and shook his head. Looking at you like an incorrigible puppy. 

“Sleeping with me then. Sort that tail, eat your dinner when it comes and get into bed. Last thing I need is you complaining about your back while you’ve got that hip in bad enough shape.”

You watched him disappear into the bathroom with no less shock horror than when he presented the arrangement to you. All you could hear was Rudy’s taunting voice in your ear telling you that you could have any of your superiors if you just made your desires known. Which in turn helped break you from your shock. 

You started to wonder how Rudy and Alejandro started out together. Had they been like you and Ghost? Had Rudy come from a training facility and then luckily stuck with someone who loved him and who would foster that warmth and connection? Or maybe they knew each other before. Did Rudy do it for benefits and then it turned into more. 

You remembered some of the hybrids at your old base would trade sex for favours or contraband. The very thought of that made you want to vomit out all of your insides, especially when you thought of the humans at your old base. Fucking some of the hybrids was dire enough, only doing it to scratch each others itches when the need you felt grew to an explosive point. You’d never thought about doing out of genuine interest and attachment to another person before. Now it was all you could think about. 

“Wow, Price must’ve given you some talking to.”

You spun in place and faced Gaz, cheeks heating and ears flickering until you realised you’d been caught deep in your salacious thoughts. The room spun ever so slightly, but after getting a hold of yourself you remembered what Price had said and fixed your eyes on the trays that Gaz was holding. 

Right. Dinner. Tail. Sleep. 

“Hey,” you said lamely, sheepishly meeting Gaz’s eyes. 

“Hey, yourself,” he snorted. “You ok?” 

“Yeah, fine,” you muttered rather unconvincingly. “You?”

“Fine, Pup. I didn’t get told off by the captain,” he winked. “And I already had my dinner. You should eat as well, might give you some life back in that sorry face.”

He went to set your tray down next to you and you gratefully thanked him while looking over the contents. It was exactly what you needed. Some kind of beef stew brimming with sauce and vegetables with a big bar of chocolate for after and a bottle of water to wash it all down. You breathed it in as if you could inhale it, the fresh smell making your mouth water. 

“What the hell? We need whoever the cook is here to transfer back with us. This looks fucking good.”

Gaz laughed at that. 

“Tastes fucking good too. Should eat up.”

You shook your head and picked up your brush. 

“Gotta sort this before I get Price’s bed any wetter. Should probably try to get back on his good side,” you said, already navigating the half dried tangles. 

“I don’t think he’ll care much. I’ve seen that man fall asleep standing in the rain. Bit of water on his bed won’t make a difference to him,” Gaz shrugged.

You laughed at that, but didn’t let it deter you from your work. It wasn’t like you were only concerned for the bed. The longer you took to get the last of your tail unfurled, the more painful it would be to tug out the dry knots. It felt therapeutic to tackle each tangle one by one anyway, brought a sense of calm to you while you worked. 

“What did the big man say anyway?”

“Hm?” You hummed back, not really hearing what he said. 

“Price. You looked like you were about to have a fit before I came in.”

You paused what you were doing and looked up at him with an arched brow. He arched his own back and to that you could only roll your eyes. 

“Nosy.”

“Got a right to be. Saved your life, you have to do whatever I say now.”

“Oh really?” You asked, seething as you hit a bad snag in your tail. 

“Really. Now tell me what he said,” Gaz demanded, voice higher with his amusement. 

You sighed and finally tackled the tough section you were working on, lobbing the big furball you pulled into the bin underneath the bedside table. Once that was done you looked over at Gaz. 

“He told me that I have to go do therapy,” you said with a screwed up expression. 

“Oof,” Gaz said, pursing his lips as he tried not to laugh. “I can see why you looked so serious then. Truly, it’s the harshest of punishments he could’ve come up with, that cruel old bastard. Just think of the battle scars you’ll come out with. Fucking hell, you’ll never come back the same.”

“You’re so funny.”

“I am. It doesn’t matter how much you say I’m not. I know that I’m hilarious.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, finishing the last bit of your tail. 

“An idiot that saved your life,” he smiled. “Idiot.”

You grinned and finally put down your brush so that you could go get the hairdryer. Instead of engaging any more in the silly fake argument, you got to work finishing off the drying process, taking a minute to sweep the dryer over your tail and fill your ears with white noise.

Once it was done, your tail was fluffy and warm, all ready for a good nights sleep. After you ate your stew of course. Now that Gaz was settled back on his bed and scrolling through his phone you were left to get to work on your last task. You picked up your tray and got ready to greedily scoff down the heavenly bowl in front of you. 

Just as you were picking up your fork and digging into your first bite the shower in the bathroom turned off again. You flicked your ears at the sound but didn’t think to pay it much mind. Instead you enjoyed your first bite, savouring the salty spicy beef and soft veg that was the perfect amount of juicy and crunchy. It was enough to make your eyes close all of their own accord. 

You opened them again when the bathroom door opened, immensely grateful you’d already swallowed that bite you took before you choked. Price came out in only a towel, the wet sheet of fabric commendably doing everything it could to cling to the ridges of his muscled hips and soft belly. His chest and arm hair was speckled with water droplets and the top of his head was all fluffy after it was presumably roughed over with the towel. 

Suddenly you’d completely forgotten what you were supposed to be doing. Your big round eyes were too busy roving all over Price. Every hair, every muscle, every scar that he had laid bare and available to you. In fact so much so that you were only broken out of it because Gaz cleared his throat and looked pointedly at you. 

“Good stew, Pup?” He quipped, shooting you a sly grin. 

You cleared your own throat and hid your eyes in the food, not trusting yourself to look at either of the other men in the room. 

“Yeah, yeah good. Thanks, Gaz,” you muttered, shovelling another bit in without tasting it this time. 

“You get some for me?” Price asked, busy combing his fingers through his hair over at the mirror. 

“Yeah, your tray’s just there on the table, Cap.” 

“Good man,” Price replied.

Just as you were sure that you might get over whatever it was that had come over you, you heard his towel dropping. Your ears, your tail, your heart stopped in place. Your eyes flicked up to the pale slopes of his ass before they shot right back down to your food again and felt as if they might just keep going and roll out of your head. Why did you even look up in the first place? 

You were sure the next bite of stew would be the end of you. But you could’ve face anyone asking why you’d stopped eating and you sure as hell didn’t want to think of some other way to distract yourself, so you forced down another bite and lost yourself to the rhythm of your raving heart. 

Luckily for you Price stuck his boxers on and then a pair of his own sweats, leaving his chest bare before he dried himself. He had the dryer on for a couple minutes after that, but you didn’t dare look at him beyond what filled your periphery, little flashes of him fluffing at his hair or running the dryer over his arms and chest. 

Soon enough the ordeal was done. He came over to sit by you and shovelled his food down with very little grace. He ate so fast that you both finished at the same time. The sound of his heavy breathing and Gaz turning the shower back on for himself were soon the only sounds in the room. 

“Ready for sleep?” He asked, raising his big damp brows at you. 

“Uh…I think so.”

“Good.”

That was all he said. No warning, no precursor to what he did next.

He stuck both your trays on the table and yanked the covers back, sweeping you under them with him, pulling you close to his chest until you were flush to his body. The smell of the cheap soap did little to diminish his natural scent as it wove itself around you. The sound of his booming chest filled your ears and soon you were both lying there in the stillness as if what was happening was normal. 

“Shouldn’t we turn the light off or…” you trailed nervously. 

“Gaz’ll need it, Pup. Just close your eyes, he’ll turn it off when he’s done,” Price rumbled, his entire voice trickling over you like hot honey. 

“Oh, yeah right… it’s just-“

“Pup,” Price groaned. “Anymore out of you and I’ll double your minimum amount of therapy sessions. Shut up, shut your eyes and go to sleep.”

Well there was no arguing with that. Though part of you wondered if you’d need more therapy just from that night alone. You huffed at the thought and finally settled against him, annoyed enough with his bluntness that you were able to see past his naked body and the bullet holes that speckled his left arm. You were only barely thinking about how much you wanted to paw at him at that point, grumpy and content enough to fold yourself into the sheets and close your eyes just as he’d asked. 

The sound of running shower water accompanied you into your dreams. Just as you’d figured it was going to be a long night, you floated off to Price’s faint snores and Gaz’s shower. Finally too tried to think anymore, or worry about what Gaz would see once he got out of the shower.

[lovesick-joey]

Good Job.

"You really went on your own?"

Billy nodded his head vigorously, grinning like a fool even as Batman wiped away the blood off his temple. The older hero shook his head, his stern expression faltering slightly.

"..Get someone to accompany you next time." He grunts, ruffling Billy's hair. "I didn't know you can get hurt.."

Billy scoffs. "You? Don't know? That's impossible!" He exclaims, getting up from the stool he was sitting on. His height nearly towered over the Caped Crusader's. If only I was actually that tall. "But that's besides the point- I've got the whole thing covered! Put those scrawny robots into the spirit realm!"

Batman let out a faint sigh, taking a step back as Billy got back on his feet. "A warning would be nice. It's reckless for you to charge into battle without the others' permission. We haven't even made a plan yet.."

"You have to admit I did pretty good though!" Billy bounced, floating just above the ground. He punches the air. "I defeated all of them on my own! No plans from the rest of the League whatsoever."

As much as Batman disliked the idea of Billy—or anyone on the Justice League for that matter—pursuing a mission without a second opinion, he can't help but smile. He always had a soft spot for the boy, after all. He placed his hand on Billy's shoulder when the false adult returned to stand on solid ground. "You did. You did a good job."

Billy's expression softens, and Batman squeezed his shoulder. "Good job." The man repeated. Then, he looked over at the couches that were set up in the room they were in. Golden Condor sat stiffly, his unmoving eyes transfixed on the both of them, watching.

"Isn't that right, Condor? Don't you think he did a good job?"

Billy knew Batman made the wrong move. Why bother interacting with that jackass?

Golden Condor got up from the couch, but he didn't approach them. Instead, he glared at them from afar. It was mostly directed to Billy, though.

He never liked me, Billy thought. Well, guess what? I never liked you either.

"Don't praise him for doing something normal." Golden Condor spoke in that voice that would always make people grimace. He really needs to drink more water.

It was hard to notice, but Batman's shoulders tensed. "..Normal?" He uttered quizzically. Billy could imagine the look Batman was giving him under that cowl. "You think him going out to fight those robots alone, is normal?"

"It's normal to our standards." Golden Condor crossed his arms, his glare sharpening. "He should be expected to do it and punished if he doesn't."

What the hell, Billy thinks, feeling his heartbeat picking up pace. Batman stiffened. "Don't you dare speak of him that way." The Dark Knight walked over to the obnoxious man with an intimidating stride until the two were a few feet apart. Batman glared up at him. "He put himself in danger to save lives. He should be praised for his initiative, as reckless as it may be. Why can't you tell him he did a good job?"

Golden Condor huffs, looking at Billy, then back at Batman. "Because it's what everyone here does, Batman. It's nothing spectacular- nobody calls us good when we do the things we do. Why should it be any different with him?"

Billy couldn't believe it. Is Condor actually that stupid? It's even more embarrassing that this man is way older than him. A grown man is acting this way.

"And as if," The vigilante continued. "that child has the abilities of the Gods. I've said it before and I'll say it again; he should be expected to do it. He's not putting himself in danger because he's practically invincible."

"Superman has his kryptonite," Batman responded, his voice on edge. "and he's weak to magic. Diana also has her weaknesses and she's a demigod. Everyone on this team has weaknesses—it doesn't matter! You saw the blood on his head! It's still dangerous, Euge- Condor."

Golden Condor took one step closer, his haunting eyes ablaze with barely-concealed ire. "You're just coddling him," He said, his tone rising a little. "he's making you soft. It's pathetic."

Billy swallowed a lump in his throat. For the first time in his life, he was speechless. Batman's eyes narrowed. "I'm treating him with the kindness he deserves, unlike you," He said, jabbing a finger to Golden Condor's chest. The man in turn swatted his hand away. Batman's expression darkened. "you just hate him because he's a kid. I know how you are, Golden Condor."

The tension in the room was palpable. There was a brief intake of breath from Billy. They're going to argue again. They always do. Why does Batman have to go through this?

Golden Condor gritted his teeth. He was practically fuming. His aggression didn't deter Batman, as he continued to face him, his head held high and his chest puffed out.

"You're a fool!" Golden Condor spat at the shorter man's face. "If you keep this up then he's going to grow up thinking he's going to be given everything on a silver platter for doing jack-shit!"

"Just because you've never been praised doesn't mean you can't praise him!" Batman snapped back, unyielding. "Really, that's all that I want you to do; praise him! It's so simple and yet you have to make it difficult! I think he's severely lacking a parent figure who lets him know that he's appreciated—"

Billy's ears blocked out the sounds of their incoherent arguing—he could barely make out the words they were saying to each other. His feet were almost glued to the ground as he watched them, looking at their gestures and their moving mouths. It was a familiar sight with these two.

He could feel ringing in his ears, and Billy averted his eyes to the floor instead.

TGCS ¦ Mr. Hermit ‣ Dragon Eyes

[taegimood]

What do you think are the ways txt would make you needy?

(Like calling you pet names, starting to get touchy...)

–😺

nonnie!! ooooh this thought.. i’m gonna assume you mean intentionally? sorry if i’m wrong 🥺

──────────────────────

txt knowing just what to do to get your attention and make you needy for them..

yeonjun is all about teasing touches. fleeting ones - ones that make you wonder if he meant to do that as your thighs rub together longingly. (of course, yeonjun always knows exactly what he’s doing). he’ll stand just a little closer than usual, enveloping you in his scent, his warm breath fanning over your neck as he leans over to “see what you’re up to” without ever actually touching you — or his hands skimming lightly over your waist as he passes by you in the kitchen, hard bulge brushing against your ass on purpose — or his nimble fingers trailing along your thigh as he “helps you fix your shorts” because you just look cold, is all. (which of course causes you to actually shiver). he especially will bring out the more intimate pet names to really get you going, too. “you seem tense, kitten..” (cee wya 👀) or “what’s wrong, sweet girl?” 🤤 he really is a sly fox, huh?

soobin gets extra touchy. not in a sneaky way like yeonjun, because he knows that the more direct he is, the wetter your panties will be when he finally takes them off of you. soobin generally tends to be on the shyer side — so when he gets bold with you, all nonchalant as he sits you over his lap to “show you a video he found” or even going as far as to have you taste test something he’s baking by “innocently” putting an icing-coated finger to your lips for you to suck clean… well, there’s no way your pussy isn’t gonna be throbbing. he definitely uses your hand kink to his advantage as well. will come up behind you and massage your shoulders under the guise of helping you de-stress, meanwhile right before he steps away he’s sneaking his hand around to graze your throat.. a caress that has you reeling before he’s walking away leaving you high and dry 😩 (or wet, rather)

beomgyu is a MENACE. will shamelessly and infuriatingly have his hands all over you, but the second you try to reciprocate, he’s waltzing away to “go do something he forgot” or just straight up not letting you touch him back, dodging you as he giggles in your face. he just loves being a brat and a tease. you’re standing on a chair trying to decorate your shared bedroom wall, and he’s using that as his chance to squeeze at your ass — you squeal in surprise and he’s laughing, laying on a smooch and then a solid smack as he walks away while you’re left standing there like 😦. he’ll say the most unhinged shit, too. out in public and everything when he whispers “would love to fuck you dumb in those” right in your ear as you pass by a lingerie display window. your gasp has him grinning to himself, especially when he can tell just how much it effected you from the wobbly way that you tried to shove him after in defense..

taehyun is outright with it. similar to gyu, he doesn’t beat around the bush, but he does, however, make you want it. where beomgyu is big and teasing with his methods, taehyun on the other hand.. one look from him has you squeezing your thighs together. that look, which he gives you when he wants you all to himself. out with friends and his eyes are boring into yours from across the table, or he’s seated beside you and you can just feel the heat of his stare.. he’ll have your thigh beneath his large palm, massaging his fingers against your heat while casually carrying on a conversation with your friends, ignoring the way you’re trying hard not to whimper at his touch. other times you’ll be milling about, organizing stuff around the apartment, when you look up to see him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, just watching you — before you can even ask he’s stating so matter-of-factly, “i want you.” the heat that INSTANTLY pools in your panties is record-breaking. and he knows it, too.

huening kai’s usual sweet touches come with an edge when he’s trying to get you hot and bothered. he’s still sweet! but.. there’s a little something else there, too. he’ll brush your hair off your forehead innocently, and in the same motion, he’s dipping his head to press a hinting kiss beneath your ear. gentle hand at your waist as he guides you past him, but wait, is it your imagination when his hand slides forward to press against your lower belly..? this man is always pet name central, but when he wants to stir you up, there’s almost a teasing, deliciously condescending lilt to them that you find yourself questioning whether or not you really heard as your breath catches in your throat. he’ll make sure you know for sure, though, when his hand gently grips your chin so he can press a kiss to your forehead with a smug little smile and a cute crinkle of his nose~ accidentally slipped a little dom kai in there oops 🫣

[dcxdpdabbles]

Any ideas for Phantom's number 1 fan? I'm so excited to see Tim and Danny run into each other and figure out OH, so this is what's going on. And also being gay cuz would either of them mind too much about being married? Hey- wait- what's this about a child-

Cut to the watchtower just freaking out full panic. Oh God, the world is gonna end. How do we fix this so the ghost king doesn't kill us all???

John Constantine would go bald from how much stress hair-pulling he was doing. They have been searching for a solid week and have yet to find out where Batman's third son went.

He left a very tiny trail across Europe, seemingly as an art thief and hired assassin. It broke Batman's eldest son's heart whenever a new clue was phoned into the Watchtower, which did not make John feel better about placing a bounty on the kid's head.

It was a neceasery but with each passing day it became clear that no one truly understod the Young Justice Robin. He seemed to always be one step ahead of everyone, and covered his tracks so well that it would have taken them months, maybe even years to follow if they hadn't been looking.

But oh, were they bloody looking.

The entire league had come together to trace Young Justice Robin's path, turning two of the main conference rooms into the center hub for comparing and connecting clues.

It looks like a conspiracy theorist's wet dream in there.

Colored yarn strung around the room, screens displaying messages and photos of cities, and multiple tired-looking league members scrambling to make heads or tails of the new personality that YJ Robin had created in every new country.

Frankl, John was slightly impressed by how much work the kid was giving them. Even the tracking spells that should have pointed in his general direction failed because his soul was not being picked up on a global search whenever they cast it.

It was almost as if the kid had left their world. John wanted to hope that it meant he went to a different planet, but he never betted on a horse with a broken leg.

YJ Robin was trying to kill the Ghost King's fiancee, and despite the guards they placed around known stationed natural portals, he managed to slip through.

It was the only thing that made sense, but it also meant they were running out of time. His contacts on the other side had caught multiple whispers that the Ghost King's army was gathering and would be ready for combat any day now.

At this point, he wasn't even sure the King would listen, even if they did manage to stop YJ Robin. Higher beings took a insult far more serious then humans did.

"Well?" He asks just to be a ass when Batman son teleports in. He gone to speak to some Ghost hunter specilists. Not that John put much stock in thier ecto-research. He perfected magic through hard work and numours deals. The thought the scientist thought they could us maths to build similar defenses were laughable.

But the league was desperate for any form of defense against the army in case they could not please the King in time.

Nightwing—even in the Batman suit, John could only see the young man in Blue struggling to keep everything together—pulled a face. "The Fenton's technology is impressive but....they seemed to really empthis that they no longer build weapons. That it wouldn't work."

"I could you that. At the most, they could detect a ghost but that's only a few second before a deadful shiver ran down your spin anyway." John huffs rolling his eyes.

"No. I think they were lying. They seemed really determined to make me believe they had no real means of harming a ghost. And get this: The Fentons dismantled the ghost portal they claimed allowed them to enter a death dimension only two days before we arrived."

Nightwing says with a tone that would have sounded strange in his blue suit. On Batman, it's just the right amount of emotionless that John has to bite his lip to stop him from reaching out and yanking the kid into a hug.

The world was too unfair to the kind-hearted folk like Nightwing.

The boy dressed as a Bat continues, blissfully unaware of how much he breaks John's heart. "They claimed it never worked and were embarrassed they kept it up for so long. I asked Oracle to check their online presence, and they read a lot of articles that speculated what the Justice League was up to days before they tore it down."

Now, John frowned in thought instead of disapproval. He highly doubted those hacks had made an actual portal to the Infinite Realms but they had boasted about it for three full years on their website.

It was the reason the Justice League even bothered to approach them. So why now, did they suddenly tear it down?

"They're trying to cover something up." John concludes watching the other nod in agreement.

The other man's jaw tightens for just a second before he adds "Or they are coving for someone."

Shit.

"Kid made it to the ghost zone, didn't he?" John swears feeling his heart drop down to his knees.

"We can gather that Young Justice Robin has made his way to the Realms and is now an active threat to humankind's survival. He needs to be taken down by any means possible," Batman declares, his voice like breaking glass. It's sharp and cutting, like the shreds of whatever heart was left in Richard Grayson.

John wonders if Bruce knows his son has broken from wherever his soul rests.

"That would explain the army that has gathered under the Ghost King banner," John grumbles, hands twitching for nicotine. "My sources said they are all gathered and practically ready to march."

"Do you know how long we have before they are here?" Batman asks walking into the conference room and grabbing the attention of every gathered hero with one hand motion.

Everyone tenses in a way that could make the weakest of them choke. They know what it means.

A level ten threat will arrive.

They failed to stop the Third Robin. He managed to spend months doing whatever he pleased, and now that the League was paying attention, it was far too late.

Many of them would not survive the upcoming battle. Many of them who did would lose so many loved ones that it would be hard to decide if they should spend the last few hours on the battlefield or in the arms of their families.

Life, as they know, may come to an end. They could become the next Krypton. Somewhere in the crowd, Kara falls to her knees, sobbing and babbling to Roa, begging for her not to live through her planet's destruction again.

A few of the youngest members start to sob along side her.

Wonder Woman, who was standing next to Superman and Martian man hunter, clears her throat. Her eyes are as hard as steel, her stance unwavering under the pressure of hundreds of pairs of eyes that land on her, and when she speaks, it's like the banging of a drum.

"Warriors prepare for combat. We are at War."

__________________________________________________________

Tim doesn't think when he lands.

He scrambles to his feet, and rushes away from the portal as fast as he can, hoping to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Yetis.

His feet fall into the mud, splashing and nearly tripping him over. It darkens out, and there are no cars in sight, but the smell is familiar, and the feeling of the air is welcome.

Before Gotham stands in all her grey dangerous glory, just over a few hills. He is far from the city, on the outside of Crime Alley, he thinks, but he can see the Bat symbol flowing proudly in the sky, can make out Wayne Headquarters, his Nest, and Babs' Clocktower, and it's so amazing to finally be home.

He pushes his legs to go faster, climbing up the hills into the highway. The streetlight flicker as he rushes by, unafriad of coming trafic. No one goes this way anymore. Not since they turned it into a dead end long before Bruce's parents died.

There are patches of broken road pieces where grass and weeds are growing through, his feet slap against the multiple holes, ruining his momentum but Tim can hardly care.

Tim knows how to find Bruce now.

He can help bring him back from the timeline through the various clues his father figure has been able to leave over his adventures. Tim is so close now, he can actually see the finish line.

He just needs to get to the Cave- when Jason and the Demon are not there, preferably. Maybe Alfred would let him in. The old man had always had a soft spot for Tim- and he could build the machine he needed.

That's if he doesn't build it in his Nest.

Tim runs faster, feeling his lungs and legs burn. He doesn't pay it any mind. The time with the Yeti has made him stronger, likely due to the hours of soaking in some private reserve of Lazarus Pit, so he is going at a faster speed.

One that he had never been able to reach before. He was nothing like a speedster or even on his Red Bird, but damn if it isn't exciting to think he may be able to outpace Jason now.

As he approaches, the city becomes more prominent, shimmering in a faint green glow, as if welcoming him home. Tim's face breaks into a smile when he enters Crime Alley, passing the city limits. In Bruce's city, he is safe from Ra because even without Batman, the city has always shielded them from the Ghuls.

Bruce will be back tomorrow, here in the shadows of Gotham's darkness, protecting everyone, and Tim will finally be able to rest. Months of invading the Justice League, working with the League of Assiasn, the Spiders, and his own doubts were finally going to be behind him.

So close. So very close he could taste it.

A scream cuts through the air.

Tim slides to a stop, feet splashing against the puddles of dirty water he hadn't noticed, swinging his head in the direction it came from. Every part of him wants to ignore it because he has to focus on getting Bruce. He does, but the fear in that woman's voice is too thick to ignore.

He glances back to his Nest, torn between his duty and his heart, biting his lip, but a young whimper- a child likely- makes the choice for him. Tim changes directions, going into the alley and coming across a family of three in the middle of being mugged.

It's quick work to get behind the man waving the gun, silent as the shadows, he blends in to mask his presense. He stricks just as the fool pulls the triger, the loud bang echoing in the small space.

The woman screams again, this time louder, with far more fright in her voice, as the boy bursts into tears.

Thankfully, Tim had knocked off his aim, and the bullet bounced off the brick near the man- likely the father- who was standing in front of a frightened woman and small child in what could only be an attempt to protect them.

The brick shatters to peices as Tim reels back his fists, bringing them down in three swift but brutal punches and the gunman hits the ground with a loud thump.

He hadn't even had time to scream.

Tim huffs above him, and the large amount of running finally catches up to him. It's been a long time since he was so out of breath, though sprinting at full force for a solid nearly fifty minutes was a good enough reason.

"Is everyone alright?" Tim pants out, shaking out his hand in a showy way. After all, he wasn't wearing a mask, and right now, this needed to look like Timothy Drake got a lucky burst of adrenaline.

"Yes." The man breathes, sounding shocked. "Yes, we're fine. Thanks to you. Thank you so much, you saved our lives."

"Don't mention it. I'm glad I was in the right place at the right time." Tim looks up at him, twisting his face into the perfect meek civilian persona Timothy Drake is known for, and then feels all the blood drain from his face.

At that moment, he realizes two things.

One, Gotham was many shades of depressing but it was never green. Espcailly glowing green but while he had been runing he had swon he saw it shifted to sit behind a filter that made it appear as such.

And Two, Bruce looked a aweful lot like his father.

"Oh my boy." Thomas Wayne says, wrapping his arm around Martha and little Bruce Wayne's. He sends Tim another grateful warm smile. "I don't think you understand just what you've done here."

No, Tim thinks faintly I really don't think I do.

_____________________________________________________________

Somewhere in the far future, Danny Fenton wonders why his portal-making skill has stopped working. He used it regularly as his search and rescue means but ever since Robin fell into his arms half dead he had not been able to activeate it.

It was almost like it was stolen from him.

If only his parents hadn't dismantled the portal. He could ask Frostbite to check him over.

[spicyyy-muffin]

protective smartass

ghost x reader

i made up a random ass character just for this. super cheesy but enjoy! this is nothing but fluff.

“who did that to you?”

“it doesn’t matter.”

“yes it does y/l/n”

ghost was struggling to keep up with me as i walked as fast as i could in the opposite direction.

“why so you can tell him not to harass other team members and he will just do it again? or so you can make him run 30 laps on the track tomorrow?”

he gripped my wrist pulling me into him.

it looked worst then it really was but then again luke tried to beat the living shit out of me. we were sparring again. and he took it too far. again.

my lip was split open and the black eye he gave me was already starting to swell shut.

“who the fuck did this to you?”

his hands were cold and soft as he traced the end of my bruise.

“you should see the other guy” my lips perked up in a smile but ghosts face remained placent with the mask on.

his other hand slid to the back of my neck examining my jaw. which aparently didn’t look good judging from the look on his face.

his gaze hardened. “luke”

his hands slithered away as he took a step back i grabbed onto him this time. “ghost please just leave it”

my eyes pleaded with him the best i could. “i’ve got it under control.”

he stood silently for a few more seconds before the palms of his hands reappeared on my cheeks faster than i could blink. i cringed in pain as my right jaw screamed from the interaction. he pulled it away. the fire in his eyes only multiplied.

“how many times?”

well only, everytime i trained with him. which was once or twice a week, but when the guys were on missions without us it was a lot more. and those were a lot harder to hide.

“i can’t even believe i’m asking you.” my brows scrunched in confusion.

he shut his eyes one more time, “please just let me take care of him.” we stood in silence for a little while longer before i muttered “okay” and he was gone.

walking into the weights room the next morning there was no sign of ghost or luke. just two newbies who were trying to bulk.

“fuck dude did you see ghost destroy that kid last night?”

my veins ran cold.

“bro that man is goated! Luke is lucky if he ever fucking walks again man!”

i dropped my towel walking straight to his room. my thoughts aided as a distraction on the way. and when he finally opened the door he was in nothing but grey sweats and a mask leaving his freshly showered hair exposed. along with his lean torso covered in tattoos and scars.

and the image was enough to make me forget why i was there in the first place.

“you-“

my words were caught in my throat. jesus christ how long had it been since i got laid?

“my eyes are up here baby”

my cheeks flushed as i looked back up to him.

“i know that smartass i was just- just- coming to say thank you.”

“mmm” he pushed the door open further walking in. an invitation.

my feet hit the solid metal floors as i shut it behind me.

“so is he, gone?”

ghosts back was faced towards me as his shoulders shook in silent laughter.

“what’s so funny?”

he turned around making eye contact with me before sitting on the corner of the bed manspread with his arms resting on his knees and his eyes still on me.

“he’s lucky if he can even talk after what i did”

i stepped closer to him.

“what if something happened to you ghost? what if he got the drop before you did? or-“

he pulled back sitting up straight. “you worried about me baby?”

i ran my hands through my hair tugging at the roots before he gripped my waist pulling me to stand at the edge of the bed.

“what’s the matter with you?”

my hands traced the paint on his mask.

“i just don’t wanna see you hurt.”

his eyes lit up in amusement “and how do you think i felt seeing you get your ass handed to you by a little boy?”

i shoved his shoulder as he pinched my behind gently. “don’t be a prick.”

but the smile on my face told him i didn’t really mean it. “if no one lays there hands on you i won’t have to be.”

“you can’t protect me from everything riley.”

his thumb traced the outline of my lips. “you questioning my skills again y/l/n?” my smile widened before he grabbed my waist pulling me flat on top of the bed with him hovering over me.

“you should put some clothes on it’s distracting.” i traced his tattoos absentmindedly.

“why would i do that when your clearly enjoying yourself.” my hand slapped his stupid abs, as he hid his face in my neck laughing.

his mask lifted up pressing gentle kisses on my neck. “be careful riley, that’s dangerous territory you’re entering. it’s hard to get out of.”

his face hovered over mine his lips still in view before he leaned down and kissed me. his lips were warm in comparison to his cold body as his tongue traced my lower lips. maybe it was the lack of oxygen but the pleasure from just this alone was hard to pull away from.

“it’s a good thing i’m not going anywhere then isn’t it?”

[kitten4sannie]

𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶

pairing: criminal! yunho x fem! reader (criminal) x criminal! jongho

genre: smut, cyberpunk au?? kinda, kinda lore compliant

summary: After finishing up a late night drug deal, you find yourself getting arrested by two suspicious policemen.

w.c: 6.1k

warnings: *possibly triggering content* drug usage, jongho and yunho play a little bit of bad cop nasty cop with reader jshshd <33, hard dom! yunho, dom! jongho, bratty sub! reader, dubcon elements, mxm, kissing, brat taming, degradation, praise, pet names, exhibitionism/voyeurism, manhandling, fingering, spit kink (so muchhh), face slapping, pussy slapping, spamking, oral (receiving), size kink, breeding kink, bulge kink, unprotected sex, sloppy seconds, creampies, squirting, slight dumbification

a/n: choo chooooo �� next stop is smut cityyy – i mean, night city hehe whoops <33 just fyi i renamed the fic and changed the aesthetic to better fit the vibe. also i stg i gave yunho grillz before the teaser came out and i just - someone please write seonghwa with grillz,, i will kiss the ground that you walk on 🧎🏻‍♀️ anyways enjoyy bc this one goes on forever and everrr ٩( 'ω' )و

song rec: numb to the feeling, slow down by chase atlantic

☆ Masterlist ☆

➽───────────────❥

“How much for Night Serum?” a soft-spoken, disheveled man asked you, only allowing you to see his dry, quivering lips and the few beads of sweat that were rolling along his chin, the rest of his face hidden underneath the heaviness of his coat hood. 

Leaning your back against the slightly damp alley wall behind you, your fingers traced the outline of a small pocket that you had sewn onto the inside of your jacket. “120 for a vial.”

He pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and smashed it down into your open palm. “I want two.” 

You counted the money and shoved it away into your tank top, then fished out two small vials filled with a glowing blue liquid from the small pocket, dropping them into the man’s eager hands. “Pleasure doing business with you,” you said mostly to yourself, the man already fast walking his way out of there and tossing his head back to down it. You watched with envy as he let out a blissful sigh and headed towards a hologram of a beautiful woman that was beckoning him inside the building she was posted in front of.  

With your hands shoved inside your hoodie pockets, you followed in the direction of the man, heading back out onto the semi-empty street and mindlessly walking down it, your eyes settling on the plethora of neon signs around you, some advertising 24-hour ramen shops and bars where you could drink your sorrows away, some flashing red XXX’s at you, enticing you to settle for a quick fuck with a lovebot of your choosing. None of it really interested you these days. No matter what you did, everything just felt numb. Muted. All you wanted was to feel alive again. Before you could think, you pulled one of the little vials out from your jacket and looked down at it, eventually opening it and swishing the liquid around. 

A pair of blue and red lights suddenly blinded you, an irritatingly loud siren joining in as well to overwhelm your senses. “Oh, fuck,” you reacted, suddenly taking a step back once you realized you had done something incriminating right next to an idle cop car. Just your luck. The vial smashed onto the ground just as you ran in the opposite direction, glancing back in horror to see an intimidatingly solid man with large thighs and equally large biceps already catching up with you.

“Stop right there!” he called out, reaching his hand out in your direction, amused by the fear in your eyes and the quickening pace of your steps.  

You carried your body down the pavement as fast as you could, your lungs already on fire from routinely panting and breathing in the cold night air. Your breath escaped your lungs completely when you were suddenly yanked backwards by the collar of your jacket, the color leaving your face once you got a good look at the serious man standing behind you. 

“Possession of illegal drugs and evading the law. That’s enough for a few months in the slammer,” the man said with a smirk, bending over slightly and lifting you up over his shoulder with ease. You squeaked at the feeling of his arms squeezing around your body, hitting your fists into his solid back and yelling at him to let you go. Whistling a bit, he simply carried you back to his taller, older looking partner who was leaning against the police car with his arms folded across his chest. 

“What do we have here?” Yunho mused, a mysterious glint hidden within his coffee brown eyes. 

Once Jongho placed you down onto the ground, you tried to take off, instantly being yanked backwards by the taller man and shoved down face-first onto the hood of the police car. “Trying to run again, huh? Seems like we have a little troublemaker on our hands.”

“Fuck you,” you replied with your cheek smushed into the cold metal of the hood, groaning from how rough Yunho was as he grabbed your wrists and forced them behind your back in an uncomfortable position. 

“She’s feisty,” Yunho commented to his partner, the two of them exchanging pleased glances with each other, just as you heard a click sound and the sensation of something cold and heavy hanging on your wrists. You were fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. So why were you elated? “You have the right to remain silent, pretty girl. Everything you say can and will…” his voice trailed off a bit, focusing on pressing himself against your ass, sighing at the sensation. “…be held against you.” 

“And you have the right to choke on a dick,” you retorted, squeezing your thighs together, both disgusted and turned on knowing that you could feel just how large the man was in every sense of the word. 

“She wants me,” Yunho stated, grinning at his friend. Jongho playfully shook his head at Yunho, who chuckled and stepped aside. 

Your fingers twitched behind you, biting down on your lip in anticipation for what was next until you began to feel strong hands sliding up and down your thighs, then to your ass, his fingers squeezing into them and spreading you apart through your thin joggers, making your brain feel a bit fuzzy around the edges. “Wh-what do you think you’re doing?” you questioned weakly, lifting your head up to look back at Jongho with a glare. 

“It’s called a body search, sweetheart.” Jongho continued, moving his hands up your waist, going in a slow, deliberate manner, like he was trying to memorize how your body felt inside his hands. Once he got to your chest, he kneaded and squeezed your tits, able to pinch your nipples through your thin tank top, drawing a stilted moan from your lips. 

“Y-you’re a fucking pervert,” you scowled, squirming around, Jongho’s hands continuing to grope at your tits until he pulled the wad of bills out of your top. Before you could protest, Yunho grabbed a section of your hair and lifted your head up to make you look at him, causing you to whimper. 

“You’re the little pervert here, princess. Moaning and squirming around during a simple search. I bet you’re wet too.” 

“Sh-shut up…” you mumbled, your cheeks hot to the touch, comforted by the cold metal of the hood when the man let go of your hair. 

“Uh-huh.” Yunho lowered his hand to your ass and grabbed it roughly, before sliding his hand in between your thighs, rubbing at the underside of your clothed cunt, pressing his digits down where he presumed your clit was. “Is this where you keep your drugs? In this little pussy of yours?” 

You didn’t know what the hell was going on, but you almost didn’t want it to stop. You knew Night City was going to shit, but were these two assholes really allowed to be a part of the force with the way they were acting? Well, anything was possible. “Show me your badges,” you suddenly commanded, only for you to get flipped onto your backside, looking up at the two men who were staring down at you with hungry eyes. “Prove that you’re real cops.” 

Yunho laughed a bit to himself, nudging Jongho out of habit. Jongho gave him a gummy smile, looking sweeter than he should have. His face sharpened when he looked down at you, his tongue poking into his cheek, casually holding what appeared to be a police badge in front of your face, which confused you even more. If he hadn’t just groped you and taken your hard earned money, you would’ve believed that he could listen to reason, unlike the psychopath that stood there gripping the outline of his unreasonably large package. “You want proof, huh, little slut? I got my baton right here.”

You looked as bored as you possibly could, tilting your head, responding with a simple, “Is that it?” The man didn’t appreciate that very much, simply yanking you up from the hood of the car and shoving you into the backseat before accompanying you. 

“I know you want to keep acting like a stubborn little brat, but I know you want this just as much as we do,” Yunho said into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe with his teeth, sending a shiver through you. “I bet you’re soaking wet. Don’t you think, Jjong? Our little plaything is probably gushing for us, huh?” 

Putting the car in drive using the stick shift, Jongho pulled out onto the street, eyeing you through the rearview mirror, the corner of his lips lifting upwards. “Wouldn’t hurt to check.”

Yunho slipped his hand past your joggers, cupping your bare pussy and hearing the audible squelching sounds of your abundant arousal. You were a mess. Is this what Night City turned you into? Someone who was willing to be used by two unhinged strangers? You didn’t like the answer, but at this point, you were too invested to care. “Fuck me, you’re even wetter than I thought. We got a little whore on our hands, Jjong.” 

“Are you gonna do something about it, or what?” you challenged Yunho, your heart ready to burst out of your chest due to the rush of adrenaline flooding your brain. 

On the drive back to what you assumed was their residence, Yunho and Jongho both appreciated your encouragement, resulting in your joggers being pulled down past your knees and your dripping cunt being pounded by two of the “officer’s” sizable fingers.  

As Jongho turned the leather steering wheel to the right to make a turn at an empty intersection, he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of his partner in crime. “Add a third finger, Yun. Stretch her out for me.” 

“On it.” Yunho didn’t even bother hiding his giddiness, chuckling to himself, before pursing his lips to drip some saliva down onto his fingers. Being finger-fucked by him was almost the equivalent to having a cock inside you, especially if he filled you with three. He had a habit of breaking his toys too quickly, so he decided he would take his time preparing you for the real thing. 

“I’m really starting to think that the two of you aren’t real cops,” you chimed sarcastically, finally having calmed down a bit, eyeing Jongho through the rearview mirror, who gave you a cheeky wink, before glaring over at Yunho, instantly annoyed by the smirk that his pretty lips twisted into. 

“What makes you say that, princess?” the man asked aloofly, slipping a third equally long, equally thick finger into your tight entrance and stretching it open, leaving with you a pleasant burning sensation. 

“You’re literally knuckles deep in me right now, asshole!” you spat in his direction, resulting in a quick, though rough slap to your cheek, a stinging imprint of Yunho’s large hand still left on your face. It made you leak, aiding him in his quest to make you fall apart. 

“Is that any way to speak to an officer of the law?” Reveling in your clear shock and the influx of arousal slipping past his thrusting fingers, Yunho shook his head. “Oh, you dumb little girl. I’m obviously doing a routine cavity search. Checking for drugs and such.” He began to curl his digits and rub at the little spongy area that made your eyes roll back, noticing how you started to clench around him. “Though I don’t think you can fit anything into this tiny pussy of yours, but you’re more than welcome to try with my cock.” 

“A-as if I’d want your disgusting cock anywhere near me. You’re only getting away with this because I’m fucking handcuffed!” you grunted out, trying to bite back the moans you so desperately wanted to let out, the fire in your belly about to erupt into something that you couldn’t even try to tame. “I’d be choking the fuck out of you if I could use my hands.” 

Yunho opened his mouth and dragged his tongue across his top set of teeth, the silver finishing of what seemed to be a bottom set of grillz glimmering in the light. “Kinky. I’d like that.” 

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to spit on him or kiss him, so you simply looked on, finding Jongho’s eyes routinely locking with yours when he didn’t have to immediately focus on the road. He had hardly spoken a word to you and yet you found yourself pulsing around Yunho’s thick fingers just from having him stare you down. You were getting close and you couldn’t quite hide it anymore, your eyebrows starting to move upwards, mouth beginning to hang open, and your moans coming out embarrassingly high pitched in response to the pads of Yunho’s fingers rubbing at your g-spot. 

Jongho chuckled to himself, licking at the corner of his lips. “Are you going to fall apart for him, doll?” You could see his arm shift a bit and the side of his forearm coming in and out of view from where you were sitting. “Are you going to–fuck–cum all over his fingers?” He was starting to sound out of breath. The motherfucker was jerking himself off and driving at the same time. To be quite honest, you were more disappointed that you couldn’t watch than the fact that he was risking all of your lives on the freeway. Maybe you were just like them. Just maybe. 

Yunho pressed his lips onto the shell of your ear, feeling you routinely squeezing around him. He needed to send you over the edge. “Cum for me, pretty girl. You know you want to.” You pulsed around him, giving him a good idea of what you wanted to hear next. Sending his tongue up along your earlobe and biting it roughly, making you shudder, he growled, “Be a good girl for me and fucking cum.” 

A ragged cry escaped your dry throat as Yunho shoved his fingers inside you one last time, keeping them there, your arousal pouring out of you, getting all over his veiny forearm and the leather seat below. Once you recovered, you cleared your throat and blew a bit of hair out of your eyes, side-eyeing Yunho. “This is the only way you get girls to fuck you, huh? By handcuffing them and putting them in the back of your car?” 

Yunho felt a surge of anger shoot through him, but it went straight to his cock. “Fuck, you really do like being a little brat for us, don’t you? Because you like how we put you in your place, huh, baby?” Yunho ran a ringed finger through your hair and pushed a few locks of it behind your ear, his dark eyes studying your flushed face with an intensity that made you throb. 

“We’re here,” Jongho interjected, pressing a button on a small remote he had in his hand, the sliding metal garage door in front of the car slowly rising up, revealing a spacious garage complete with a secondhand sofa, a TV, a large toolbox, and randomly assorted car parts wrapped in bubble-wrap lying on the floor in the corner. 

You disregarded their set up, not needing to ask to know that they were probably up to some shady shit. It didn’t matter, anyway. You did what you had to do as well to keep up with the city that was both decaying and upgrading itself at the same time. 

Once Yunho pulled you out of the backseat, you motioned your head to your restraints. “Can you take these off now that you’re done with your little show? If we’re going to fuck, I don’t need my arms to be going numb.” 

He chuckled, sending Jongho a quick, pleased glance as his friend took a step behind you and put the tiny key into the slot to unclasp the handcuffs, not letting you go before he reached around you, pulling your jacket off, leaving you in just a thin tank top. Jongho noticed the sound of two vials clinking together, feeling through the jacket and slipping his fingers inside the secret compartment. 

“Go on and get comfortable, sweetheart,” Yunho chimed, nodding his head up at you, watching you with dark eyes as you sat down in the middle of the couch, one leg crossed over the other. 

Jongho stood next to him, handing him one of the vials. “Is this the stuff she’s selling?” Yunho mumbled, holding it up in the light, eyeing the chemical blue liquid sloshing around inside. “Night Serum, huh? What’s a pretty girl like you doing selling something like this, anyways?” 

You shrugged. “I gotta make a living somehow.” 

He tapped his finger against the glass, watching as a tiny bubble formed inside. “You wanna try it?” 

“I mean, yeah, but are you sure you want to?” you questioned, tilting your head. “One of my regulars told me he downed a vial and fucked a lovebot so hard, its system shut down halfway through.” 

Yunho smirked at Jongho, before pressing his shoulder into yours. “I mean, you’re the one that’s acting as our little lovebot for tonight, so are you prepared for that?” 

Were you? You weren’t too sure of much, to be frank. Just that you wanted to be used and abused by the sleazy pair of fake cops (mechanics?) hovering over you. You simply nodded at him, licking at the corner of your lips. 

“Bottoms up,” Yunho purred into your ear, tilting the glass back and allowing the liquid to drip into his mouth. Before he swallowed it all, he grabbed your chin and forced his mouth onto yours. 

“Mmfff…” you mumbled into his mouth, looking back at him, barely able to handle him shoving his tongue down your throat. The effects were almost instantaneous; your senses and any physical sensations you felt were immediately heightened to the tenth degree. Not only that, but you felt the overwhelming urge to be filthy. You could see why everyone wanted to get their hands on it. 

This discovery almost distracted you from what was going on in front of you. Yunho had grabbed Jongho by the collar, his other hand clutching the back of the younger man’s head, their lips and tongues eagerly entwining, both occasionally biting at each other’s lips. 

Once Yunho sucked on Jongho’s tongue and swallowed down some of their combined spit, he pulled back slightly, their now swollen lips barely touching, the both of them breathing in the same air, sending pleasant zaps of arousal below the belt. “What do you want to do next, Jjong? Tell me.” 

Almost breathless, Jongho cleared his throat, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I want to eat her out,” he mumbled, looking past Yunho and making eye contact with you. “I want her to squirt for me, Yun.”

Yunho smirked, running his thumb across the younger man’s glistening bottom lip. “Mm, you want our pretty little toy to make a mess, huh?” 

Jongho nodded, smiling softly. “A big mess, yeah.” 

-

With your thighs being held open forcefully by two strong hands, you squirmed around inside Yunho’s lap, barely able to handle the visual of Jongho ravaging your swollen cunt, his nose grinding repeatedly against your clit, his tongue buried deep inside your hole, and his dilated eyes focused solely on yours. 

“Stay still, kitten,” Yunho purred, gripping the undersides of your thighs and bringing them upwards so that your knees were up by your chest on either side. “Let my pretty boy take care of you.” 

Jongho groaned softly at his friend’s sentence, his hand closing tightly around his cock, fisting it with diligence. He plunged his tongue in and out of you, only stopping to purse his lips and let the mix of arousal and spit drip down onto your clit. Eyeing the wetness longingly, he smacked his hand down onto you, sending a bolt of pleasure through your body,before going back down to slurp all the escaping arousal back into his mouth. 

“Don’t swallow, Jjong.” Yunho reached around your shoulder to clutch your jaw, forcing it open, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. “Let her taste.” 

Jongho slowly stood up and hovered over the both of you, sending the mixture of fluids into your open mouth, replacing Yunho’s hand on your jaw to shut it. 

Just as you were about to swallow it down, Yunho growled, “Hold it,” near your ear, smiling slightly at the small, obedient nod you gave him. He grabbed Jongho by the chin and pulled him in for a kiss that mostly consisted of teeth and tongue, tasting you on him. The two men grunted and groaned, their hands automatically reaching for each other’s cocks, haphazardly stroking them until they were dripping more and more pre-cum by the second.

“Mmmn,” you mumbled with your mouth full, your back warm against Yunho’s heated chest, your pussy throbbing with urgency the longer you watched them pleasure one another. 

Yunho rubbed his thumb over Jongho’s slit, making him gasp and pull away due to how sensitive he was, a few strings of saliva still joining their lips. “Cute.” He chuckled, almost forgetting you were there until he saw the way you were begging for his attention with your eyes. “Aww, poor baby. Here’s your reward for waiting.” He tilted your face towards his and sent a wad of spit down your throat, making you moan and pulse heavily around Jongho’s tongue once he had returned to the space he took up between your thighs. “Good, now spit it out onto your cute little cunt like a good whore.” 

Biting your lip, you angled your head down and sent the warm liquid down onto yourself in globs, feeling it spread out over your clit and drip down your puffy folds. 

“Good girl,” Yunho praised, reaching down to rub the rough pad of his thumb back and forth over your clit at a rapid speed. He pressed kisses onto your neck, licking and biting at it, enjoying the myriad of moans and whines you let out the closer you got to your release. 

It only took one forceful squeeze of your clit and the feeling of being stretched open by Jongho’s large tongue for you to cum so hard you saw stars. When you came to, Jongho was licking your squirt from his chin, his eyes hooded and hair completely soaked in your release. 

Yunho cupped your cunt and palmed it just to feel your body begin to shudder against his from the overstimulation, smiling fondly at the sight of Jongho’s rampant lust. “Did you like being squirted on, baby bear?” 

He nodded with enthusiasm, standing up to show Yunho his softened length that was covered in his own release, smiling cheekily. “Very much so.” 

“Mm, that’s what I like to see,” Yunho nodded approvingly, his fingers idly slipping into your soaked hole and scissoring his fingers apart. Moaning, you pressed your head back against one of his broad shoulders. He placed his lips onto your cheek near your jaw, humming against your hot skin. “Ready to take my cock, sugar?” 

-

Laying on the couch with your legs spread open, you suddenly stiffened up when you felt Yunho’s cockhead press against your entrance, his large hands gripping onto your hips. You looked down at his condom-less cock, asking, “And what do you think you’re doing?” 

“Aww, come on, princess,” he purred, grabbing one of your ass cheeks and kneading it around. “You’ll let me hit it raw, won’t you? Don’t you want to feel my big cock rubbing against your pretty little cunt?” Sensing Jongho’s presence near him, Yunho moved out of the way and spread your pussy open, watching as Jongho sent a wad of spit directly onto your slit.

You were practically melting in Yunho’s grasp from hearing his filthy words said in such a patronizingly sweet tone and feeling Jongho’s spit drip down your heat, barely able to handle his intense gaze. Yunho tapped your cheek with two fingers. “Tell Jjong that you want it. That you want to feel me pump you full of my cum.” He took a second to let out a pleased sigh, his cock throbbing inside his grasp. “Tell him that you like that he’s going to watch me use you before he gets a turn.” 

“I-i want it,” you murmured with a pout, your eyes solely focused on Jongho. “I w-want to feel Yunho’s cum inside me…and…” You were both so fixated on each other that you didn’t even notice when Yunho slapped his cock down onto your lower abdomen, pre cum smearing across your skin. 

“Finish the sentence, doll,” Jongho requested, his soft, though commanding voice sending a shiver up your spine. 

Your eyelids lowered, feeling yourself begin to pulse in between your thighs. “You’re going to watch me while I get used by Yunho before you get a turn with me.” After hearing Jongho’s small groan and seeing the lust take over his features, you unconsciously spread yourself further open like you were about to take him instead of Yunho, which they both greatly appreciated. 

Yunho suddenly slapped his length down onto your abdomen, lining it up so that you all could see just how far he would reach inside you. The tip of his cock reached just above your belly button. You whimpered, feeling dizzy at the sight of it, wondering how something so big was going to fit. Yunho, however, was having the time of his life. “Oh my god, I’m going to rearrange your fucking guts,” Yunho groaned huskily, sliding his cock back and forth across your clit, using your combined arousal to stimulate the both of you. Enjoying the sounds of your small, breathless moans, he smacked his cock down onto your clit, making you let out a sudden gasp. 

“G-go slow, okay?” your voice not coming out as commanding as you wanted it to, your eyebrows furrowed, despite giving the two men a pout. “I don’t want to be split in half.” 

Yunho could’ve cum right then and there, too delighted with your acknowledgement of your clear size difference.

Noticing his friend zoning out, Jongho wiped some of the drool that was starting to escape Yunho’s lips. “What’s on your mind, Yun?” 

Yunho smiled gleefully at Jongho. “I’m going to break her, aren’t I?” 

Jongho shook his head, returning the same glazed over look that Yunho was giving him. “We’re going to break her.” 

-

You couldn’t quite remember how you got here — getting pounded into next week by some pervert with grillz and a silver chain hanging in your face, letting him use you to his heart’s content, while his partner simply watched on, steadily fisting his cock with unwavering enthusiasm. You never would’ve guessed that you’d be getting your brains fucked out in some random criminal's rundown garage that night, instead of just heading back to your apartment downtown. 

“Jjong, she’s zoning out again,” Yunho spoke up in between grunts, letting go on one of your spread thighs to rake his fingers through his sweaty hair. “What should I do?” 

Repositioning himself on the couch beside you, Jongho grasped your chin and tilted it upwards. “Give her a little smack.” 

Smirking, Yunho backhanded you, just hard enough to bring you back to reality, immediately allowing you to feel the immense pressure of the man’s hips rocking into yours, his cock plugging you up over and over. “Fuck, if you’re going to smack me, then at least aim for my p–”

Yunho’s large hand slammed down onto your cunt, his calloused palm rubbing against your swollen clit, replacing your words with a choked moan and bringing a smile to his sweaty face. 

“Again,” you said, your demand coming out as a plea instead, your legs starting to tremble against the slippery couch. “Do it again.” 

“Who knew such a feisty little thing would become such a needy slut for us?” he asked his friend, who shrugged his shoulders. Yunho removed his hand from your pulsing cunt, instead lifting your hips up and slamming into you at a deeper angle, making you let out a yell of pleasure.  “Would you like to do the honors and help make our new little toy cum all over my cock, Jjong?” 

Jongho immediately brought his hand down and slapped it directly onto your clit, not giving you a second to react, before he did it again, both him and Yunho watching with delight as your arousal began to squirt out of you like a small fountain. "Good girl," he sighed, sliding his fingers through the wetness and spreading it over your swollen clit.  

You looked to Jongho for a moment, your cheeks burning from the way he was gazing down at you with his pulsing cock in his hand, but Yunho's grip on your jaw brought your attention back to the cock that was currently drilling into your spasming cunt. "P-please cum," was all you could verbalize, a line of drool escaping past your lips.

Yunho continued to fuck you through the overstimulation, leaving your inner walls slick and warm with the heavy amounts of pre-cum that were spilling out of his cock. “Mm, that’s right. I bet a slut like you wants to feel every drop of my load when it spills into your womb. Don’t you? You want to know the exact moment that you get pregnant for me, huh?” 

You let out a long, drawn-out moan, gripping the edge of the couch, chipping off some of the faux leather material from the cushion with your nails. “I’ll…nnngh…kill you if you get me pregnant…” 

“What, you don’t like the idea of someone like me pumping you full of my kids?” he asked near your ear, his body pressing heavily against you, smacking his hand into your ass so harshly, he left a lasting handprint. 

“N-no, dumbass,” you choked out, throwing your head back into the couch cushion once Yunho persistently bucked his hips into you, sloppily and without nuance, like you were just a sex doll he had just purchased from Night City’s local rundown sex shop. 

Yunho scoffed, shaking his head, his raven locks starting to stick to his forehead. “Then why are you throbbing around my cock, pretty girl? Why are you about to cum all over it?” He bit his bottom lip, pulling all the way out and shoving himself back into you, your combined arousal making a filthy squelching sound. “You want it so bad, you’ll let Jongho fill you up too, won’t you?” 

“Fuck, just fill me up, please, both of you,” you finally admitted, your voice barely coming out, the way Yunho picking up his speed and slamming himself repeatedly into your sopping wet cunt sending you into another state of euphoria.

“I'm gonna fill you up, baby. Oh, fuck, here it comes,” the man grunted in between thrusts, letting out a series of low, gutteral sounds, holding his hand down on the bulge in your lower abdomen, cum shooting out of his cock in long spurts, coating your walls with white. It felt so good, you almost lost it, whimpering and whining. “Yeah, you fucking like that, don’t you? You like how big I feel inside you? Like I'm gonna split you open, huh?” You simply nodded, unable to think, let alone speak. Chuckling smugly, Yunho pulled out, fisting his cock until a few more dribbles of cum leaked out of him and dripped down your mound. 

Before you could ever take a breath, you were suddenly being lifted up by Yunho and being set down onto Jongho’s lap. “Ready, doll?” the younger man asked, running his calloused hands up along your curves, squeezing at the softest parts of your body, his fingers settling on your tits and tweaking them.

“Yes, sir,” you moaned softly, your words flipping a switch inside Jongho’s mind. 

Jongho picked your hips up and lowered you down onto his thick length, slowly pushing the entirety of it inside, his hips already moving like it was second nature to him, efficiently fucking Yunho’s cum back into you, some of the milkiness dribbling down to the younger man’s heavy balls. “Feels good?” 

“Really good.” You panted, wrapping your arms around his neck, holding onto him. “So good. More, please.” 

When Yunho nudged his neck and jawline with his lips, whispering something into his pierced ear, his tongue eventually sliding across his heated skin, Jongho leaned his head back, inviting it. He kept one hand on your hip, the other moving to stroke his friend’s cock. “If you want more, you’ll have to work for it,” Jongho stated, smiling lazily at you, his hand moving down to squeeze your ass. “Ride me, baby. Make it bounce.” 

Feeling desperate, you obliged him, gripping his broad shoulders tightly, his muscles tightening underneath your grip, lifting yourself up, only to drop yourself down onto him, his groans of approval urging you to go as fast as you could. “I’m riding you, sir, just how you want, so please give me your cum. I need it.” 

Yunho sucked and licked at Jongho’s neck as he nodded weakly, finding his softer moans to be a lot cuter than the deeper, more masculine sounds he tried to make. “She’s our little cumslut now, baby bear. Fill her up with your honey, okay?” Jongho’s hand tightened around the older man’s length, squeezing out more clear liquid and using it as lube, drawing muffled groans from Yunho. 

Determined to take the strangers’ loads one after another, you bounced on Jongho’s cock with fierce determination, his cum-covered length stretching you open over and over, effectively setting your insides ablaze. “Please,” was all you could whimper out, wiping some sweat from your forehead, looking between Jongho and Yunho, hoping to bring attention to your desperate situation. 

Yunho pressed his lips onto Jongho’s earlobe, mouthing something into it, both of their hands eventually traveling to your pulsing clit, taking turns thumbing it eagerly and rolling it around. “Cum for us, sugar.”

Drawing short, airy moans out of Yunho with his skilled hand movements, Jongho smiled softly at him, then looked at you, his fingers roughly squeezing your clit, as he studied your pleasure-struck face, chiming in, “Make a mess.” 

Letting out a ragged cry and blacking out for a moment, you came undone, the sensation of warm creaminess spurting into you bringing you back to reality, your head spinning from the feeling, as well as the sight of Yunho shuddering and covering his chest in his own mess. “Fuck….” you exhaled, leaning forward into Jongho’s arms, who wrapped them securely around you, all your strength suddenly leaving your tired body. The drug was starting to wear off, and you were left accepting the decisions you made, some of it dripping out of your cum-filled cunt. 

-

“The comedown from Night Serum is really rough, you know,” you sighed, sliding your fingers through your damp hair and leaning your head back into the couch cushion, puffing on the cigarette that sat between your lips. “Hot flashes, the shakes, cottonmouth, fever, the list goes on.” 

“I guess we gotta keep busy, huh? Maybe I’ll just fuck the fever out of you since you love to take cock so much,” Yunho replied smugly with a short, brusque laugh, buckling his belt and nudging Jongho with his elbow as if he was asking him to laugh along with him. Jongho gave him a small exhale of air, barely a chuckle. A pity laugh, if you will. 

“Uh-huh, right.” You tilted your head to the side, batting your eyelashes up at Yunho. “You’re lucky I didn’t give you head. I would’ve given your cock a little chomp if I had the chance.” 

Yunho flashed you a wide grin, his silver grillz reflecting in the light. “Well, there’s always next time.” 

Not that you didn’t know before, but Yunho had to be a psycho. You weren’t quite sure about Jongho yet, but there was always time for him to surprise you. Were you actually considering sticking around these two after everything they did? Arresting you, manhandling you, fucking you within an inch of your life — were you really capable of handling that for god knows how long? 

You sat up, flicking the cigarette stump away onto the dirty ground and smiling over at Jongho, who quietly observed you with the same pleased expression he had the entirety of the night, before gazing up at Yunho, your eyes full of determination, fire, and maybe a glimpse of insanity. “I’m looking forward to it, Yunnie.” He took a small step back, caught a bit off guard, letting out a nervous chuckle. You suddenly stood up and bit down onto your bottom set of teeth, making Yunho stumble back into the cop car and slide down the smooth metal until he landed on his ass, resulting in a hearty laugh from Jongho. 

Yunho appeared to be shocked, until his pretty lips twisted into a mischievous smile, his eyes upturned with satisfaction. “The others are gonna like you.” 

“O-others?” you squeaked, feeling Jongho settle a strong hand down on your shoulder and pat it, as if he was already apologizing for what was about to come. 

➽───────────────❥

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