#especially when underneath the intense confidence they display there's this part of them that's been there since childhood

[byanyan]

ah... college verse byan opening their first little online store to sell accessories & clothing pieces they've made, then being surprised when people actually buy them

[faeble-drabbles]

Hello! I could go for some NSFW poly Vegeta x reader x Bulma 👀 maybe a one shot where the reader is a bit insecure about her looks compared to Bulma (bc let’s be honest she’s super hot)? Thank you 😁

I've been wanting to respond to this one for a while //sobs But work training has been kicking my ass lol (Imagine going from potato lifestyle to immediate athletics work + kids)

So I'm still a bit tired so I can't do a full one shot story style, but I WILL do my usual headcannon style!

NSFW under the cut so MINORS DNI - 18+

•°• VEGETA x Insecure!Reader x BULMA •°•

+ Imagine you all had gone to a beach trip the week before. You were ready to stun your two lovers in the new swimsuit you picked out. But all that confidence went out the window when Bulma came out in her bikini looking absolutely gorgeous.

+ Ever since the trip you got a bit distant and it was starting to show little by little. Bulma and Vegeta had not a single clue why you would be upset, especially after such a nice vacation. It wasn't until they notice you staring solemnly at your reflection in a full body mirror that Bulma got a hint. Vegeta on the other hand needed some explaining.

+ Bulma would slip into the room behind you, wrapping her arms lovingly around your body. "What's with the sad face? You're looking at such a beautiful figure~ What is there to frown about?"

+ At first you tried to jokingly brush it off and tell her you were fine, but Bulma has her ways of getting the answers she wants. It wasn't long before you admitted to her how you felt...lacking in comparison. Bulma was both flattered and upset when hearing this. She was happy you felt so highly about her physique, but not if it meant shaming your own figure.

+ A small smirk appeared on Bulma's face as she hatched an idea. Her hands began to roam over your body. "I think all of you is stunning...your legs...your hips...I especially love these" As the words trailed from her lips, her hands traveled underneath the fabric of your top and began to massage your breasts.

+ You moaned and squirmed as she worked your breast with one hand as the other began to slip downward into your panties. "I think this part of you is quite beautiful too..." She purred before slipping her fingers between your folds.

+ Bulma would then turned you to face Vegeta (Which caught you off guard, how long had he been standing there??) tugging your clothes out of the way so she could put you on display for the prince. "Anything you'd like to say to our beautiful lover??" Vegeta just let out a grunt in response as he stepped forward. He definitely was not the type to show his affection with words, but he had other ways of showing it.

+ You were perfectly sandwiched between the two of them. Vegeta had captured your mouth in an intense make-out session and had wedged his thick thigh between your legs to grind on. Meanwhile Bulma was continuing her ministrations with your breast with one hand and toying with your clit in the other as she nibbled on your neck.

+ It didn't take long before your orgasm hit you hard, causing your body to shudder between the two of them as you rode it out. Vegeta gave you a smug look as he tilted your chin up at him. "Don't think we are done just yet..." You heard Bulma chuckle behind you as she leaned her head on your shoulder. "Oh definitely not...We are going to show you how much we love this body of yours...even if it takes all night~"

+ Prepare for a night of body worship and a LOT of orgasms.

[mistatsunrise]

Baker’s Dozen

Fandom: Star Wars - The Clone Wars // Medieval Fantasy AU

Pairing: Captain Rex x baker!reader

Content: fluff, first meeting, pastries

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,871

A/N: This is my first time writing for Rex so I’m not sure if I’ve got his characterisation down, especially as this is a medieval AU. Art used of medieval Rex in the header image is by Jake Bartok.

You had been surprised when you first met Captain Rex. The cold, winter sun glinted upon shining plate armour as he walked through the city market, wet mud splashed and squelched under his boots, that marked his silver greaves with specks of brown dirt. At the time, you didn’t know who he was, only that he was part of the King’s Guard due to the blue markings upon his armour, as well as the billowing white cape that blew gently with the wind behind him.

Two young boys had run across his path, chasing each other with twigs, pretending that they were great warriors sparring upon a battle field. You saw how Rex stopped to allow them to pass, the visor of his helmet shifting to watch them play. His shoulders gently shook as you realised the real warrior had found amusement in the innocence of youth.

You shook your head at the scene, surprised by the kind, human reaction Rex displayed. You’d expected a King’s Guard to be more… high strung. You turned back to your bakery stall, letting the warm moment you’d witnessed brighten your mood as you bent down to lift out a fresh batch of bread to replenish your stock. As you raised your head, you noticed the shadow that now loomed there over your stall.

Raising yourself up to greet your customer, your eyes travelled the length of their torso before you saw their face. It was that shiny plate armour: silver thigh guards and a codpiece peeking through under black leather faulds with deep blue trimmings; leather belts and pouches strapped about his waist where the metal of his breastplate began. The said breastplate was stylised to represent the toned flesh that resided underneath. On his right shoulder sat a curved pauldron, shiny metal marked with sapphire blue paint. Too were marked his vambraces and rembraces, in perfect symmetry, aside from the other pauldron which sat on his right shoulder, with leather strapping across his upper torso to keep it in place. The pauldron was rather oddly shaped, 3 sides of it planed at soft angles with each other to fit over the shoulder and too it was painted that dark sapphire blue. Finally, there was the helmet. Much like the rest of his armour, it shone brilliantly; silver metal that was marked with that blue paint around the T-shaped eye hole in his visor. Specifically there were two pointed, somewhat triangular shaped painted above the eye slit. You did not know what they meant, but you had not seen them worn by anyone in the King’s Guard, or even any knight for that matter. He was, you thought, stunning. You hadn’t even seen his face.

And then he removed his helmet. His skin was the same golden brown as your perfectly baked pastries. It was a bit of an odd comparison to make, but with your pastries sitting on the stall between the two of you, it was hard not to make the link. It blended brilliantly with the bright blonde colour of his short, cropped hair, that looked so silky and soft upon his head. His face itself was made of sharp curves and accents, coming together smoothly; he was truly one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. They were like the cherry on top of the cake. A glimmering amber that met your own gaze and shone with intensity and confidence.

You felt like you had been staring at him longer than you should have. If he noticed, however, he did not bring it up. It was either that or time slowed down, as distracted by his golden appearance as you were, allowing you the precious seconds to take in his presence before he noticed. Whatever the case, time truly caught up with you and sent you plunging headfirst into reality as he spoke.

“Ah, good day.”

His voice was as smooth as butter, even with the slight hesitation at the start. That is, the hesitation, what really surprised you. It was something so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but the nervousness present in his hesitation as he began to speak to you was something you’d never expected from a knight. You’d expected him to be confident, being a man a far higher standing than you. The hesitation and nervousness made you realise in an instant that the King’s Guard before you was too just another human, not something to be feared.

So, in response to his soft spoken, nervous greeting you offered a warm, friendly smile in return. “Good day to you too.”

The short conversation with the knight left you near forgetting your job.

“What can I help you with?”

A deep, considerate rumble emerged from the man as his eyes scanned the stall for a moment, before he offered, with lightly raised brows, “What would you recommend?”

You were somewhat stumped for a moment, considering what a knight, a King’s Guard even, would want from your bakery stall. With unsureity you pointed to the loaves of bread first, “Well, I’ve got many delicious loaves, of varying grains.” You realised as you finished the sentence that the man, with a position such as his would likely have easy access to bread, so you sputtered out quickly before the humiliation hit home, “Or, perhaps you’d fancy one - or some! - of my pastries.” You smiled widely, toothily and leant against the table before you, trying to nonchalantly brush off your embarrassment.

The knight smiled, soft dimples at the corners of his mouth emerged with the movement, you noticed. He dipped his head in approval, the words he spoke gentle, “A pastry sounds great.”

You gave another flick over of the knight with your eyes, as you ponder what sort of pastry he would like. Initially you would have pegged him as a savoury person, but even in the short moments speaking with him, you began to wonder if he favoured sweet treats.

Hesitantly, you pointed to one of the croissants at the front, decorated with white icing and pink raspberry flavoured sprinkles. It’s not something you’d expect a knight to like, or to even wish to be seen eating, but you pointed it out anyway, “This raspberry croissant is one of my favourites, I’d really recommend it.”

His caramel hues flicked towards it, narrowing for a moment before he bobbed his head in approval once more, “I’ll try it, how much?”

Your eyebrows rose, surprised that he did not refuse and go for a savoury pastry or… anything more dignified for his knightly self. So you stumbled out your words, “Oh, that’ll… that’ll be 5 copper pieces.”

He tilted his head, sunlight shifting over his golden features and silver armour, “5 copper?” You nodded in response, moving to take out a paper bag and wrap up the sweet pastry.

“How about 1 silver?”

You did a double take, nearly dropping the pastry in your hands as you turned to give him a look of bewilderment; 1 silver was well over the amount that you were charging. You weren’t the poorest person in the city, but you were far from the richest. 1 silver would’ve certainly make things a little less tight for you. But, you were honourable, you wouldn’t take that money, there was no reason for him to overpay you that much.

“No, that’s way too much.”

The knight looked a little stumped, eyes flicking between you and the pastry you were packing away for him. Realisation hit you.

Putting a hand on your hip, a smile teased your lips, as you asked the man, “You only brought silver coins, didn’t you?”

He nodded quickly, awkwardly, before blurting out, “Things tend to cost more around the palace.”

You chuckled softly, ignoring the twist in your stomach that made you falter in awe that you were truly speaking to a man who knew the king personally. Thus, with a slight more squeak to your voice than usual, you replied, “I can see that. Unfortunately I don’t have enough copper to make up the difference so…-“

“Just take the silver, it’s my own mistake.”

You shook your head at him, “No, no, I have something else in mind.”

He paused, lips slightly parted and eyes wide, looking at you to save this awkward situation.

You took out your notebook, resting it against the counter as you picked up your writing charcoal and scribbled down the mathematics. “So, 5 copper for the pastry. If you come back for… hmm… 19 more days, to get another pastry, then you get your money’s worth.”

You smiled up to him, watching his features contort from worry to amusement. He grinned at you, dimples emerging and the corner’s of his eyes crinkling, “Very smart, Miss...” He trailed off, before shaking his head lightly and offering you a sheepish smile, “Sorry, what’s your name? It was impolite of me not to ask sooner.”

You shrugged lightly, handing the pastry all wrapped up over to him, noticing how your fingers gently brushed with his, then telling him your name with a soft tone to your voice. You then looked to your notebook for a second, whilst the knight slowly unwraps the pastry then and there, not bothering to move away from your stall. So you lightly cleared your throat, asking “Excuse me, but what’s *your* name? Just so I can keep track of how many pastries I owe you!”

He stops unwrapping the pastry, lifting his gaze so it met yours, caramel eyes sparking with mirth, “The name’s Rex, Captain Rex.”

This man was really good at surprising you, which thus caused you to blurt out, “You’re *the* Captain Rex? The Captain of the King’s Guard?”

He so humbly nodded, after lifting the pastry to his lips and taking a bite. After a moment, he offered another smile, kind-hearted and with a twinkle of pride. “Yes, I am. And, I must say,” he continued, “I am looking forward to returning tomorrow and the day after, if your goods are able to live up to this one.”

Your cheeks heated softly at his words, as you called back in return, “I am looking forward to it too!”

Rex held up to his word, returning the next day, with you giving him a new pastry to try. The day after, he returned again. And again. Soon, those days that were promised for him to return ended. But where it ended, something new sprouted and replaced it. Something that drew you even closer to Captain Rex of the King’s Guard.

After so much time, however, you never forgot that first meeting. If not for his surprising attitude and demeanour from under that helm… well, then you would not find yourself waking up for a long day as the royal baker, preparing delicious goods for a whole court. And in turn, you would not find yourself being dragged back into the warmth of your bed by two muscular, golden toned arms, Rex’s nose then nuzzling into your neck and his pale blonde hair, as short as it was, tickling your cheek, before you felt soft, loving kisses pepper your skin.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Kickstart My Heart Pt.II (Kang Yeosang) Rated

<<Previous // Next>>

Pairing: Racer! Kang Yeosang × Waitress!/Fuckgirl! Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Light Angst, Crack, 80s Au.

Summary: Getting the chance to spend time alone with Y/N, Yeosang jumps at the opportunity, getting a little more than he bargained for.

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Dumb attempts at humor, second hand embarrassment, Lynn is still creepy, slight voyeurism/ exhibitionism, making out in car, heavy petting, allusions to oral (male receiving).

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The two best friends giggled amongst themselves as they entered inside the establishment, hands full of bags that contained to go boxes with several assorted sandwiches, burgers and fries inside of them. Hearing the bell signal customers, the peppy blonde at the front counter looked up from the thick stack of papers in front of her, mouth automatically showcasing her perfect and commercial worthy smile she always used when greeting newcomers or even regulars.

"Good afternoon what can-" Her expression immediately soured, smile fading and in its place puckered lips took shape.

"Oh... it's just you two." She drawled out the last words, eyes rolling as she peered back at the papers she was busy with.

Looking over at each other, Lynn simply shrugged her shoulders as one of her eyebrows raised up in puzzlement. Meanwhile, Y/N couldn't contain the soft snort that passed through her tight sealed lips, the sound coming out more like a goofy raspberry that further irritated the girl at the counter.

"Hey Sora. How's your day going so far?" Y/N tried to make conversation, but it was obvious the girl wasn't having it, blatantly ignoring both of them as her hand scribbled even faster, pages being turnt at a fast speed. Shifting awkwardly in her stance, Y/N turned her head to look at her friend, who merely shook her head, face clearly indicating to her to not try to act nicer and to simply get to the point of why they had come all the way to the workshop.

"Are the boys still here?"

With a few muttered grumbles, Sora lifted her pen and pointed it behind her towards the door that led to the garage, silently answering where the mentioned individuals currently were.

"Thanks."

Sora let out a scoff as the two girls made their past the counter, annoyed ever so vastly by the fact she had no authority nor power to forbid them from going to the back. Being friends with Wooyoung and the rest of the gang, obviously they got special privileges that allowed them to come and go as they pleased not only in the shop but also down at the tracks. And frankly Sora hated it, hence why she didn't refrain from demonstrating her hostility towards Y/N and Lynn, but especially towards the latter for more personal and complicated reasons that everyone was aware of but Lynn herself.

"I don't know why you go out of your way to be friendly towards her. She's been needing to take a chill pill ever since high school." Lynn retorted. Putting down the bags she was carrying for a moment, she pulled the sides of her oversized denim jacket back over her shoulders, the top having slipped off rather uncomfortably on her torso.

"Honestly?...... merely to piss her off." Y/N snickered maliciously, her true intentions finally coming to light.

"Well I'd say you do a fantastic job then. She just takes one look at you and her blood is boiling." Lynn pointed out as she picked up the bags once more.

"Trust me Lynn, you anger her more than I do." Thay statement made the petite girl do a double take at the office behind them.

"Me? Whatever did I do to Barbie?" She questioned, never once recalling a moment where she even spoke two words to the preppy girl that wasn't a casual greeting or goodbye.

Y/N looked with a deadpanned expression to her friend.

"You seriously don't- you know what? Never mind."

Not wanting to waste time trying to explain to her frequently unobservant buddy why Sora had a price on her head, Y/N just quickly rushed over towards the group of men huddled around the red Ferrari F40, one of them hidden underneath it, no doubt in the process of checking or fixing minor issues. Seeing the girls approaching them, all of the boys quickly sprang to life, Wooyoung leading the entourage as they came up towards them.

"So our lovely diner girls actually decided to join us for a movie night. I knew you guys couldn't resist my deadly charm."

Not only were the girls unamused by his little joke, but even his friends behind him shook their heads, disapproving greatly of his overly confident and light narcissistic attitude that he exuded at times.

"I only came cause I am not going to spend a perfectly good Friday night cooped up in my house watching Dynasty." Y/N firmly stated, shutting down any further attempts of flirting directed towards her.

"I like to see people get stabbed or gutted to death."

Cringing at the macabre girl's overly calm response, Wooyoung tilted his head back and looked at the tallest member of the gang, nose crinkling significantly as he silently mouthed a few words over to him, deeply questioning his friend's taste. Said friend simply shrugged and stepped up closer towards the girls, not surprising anyone that he'd pick a stance that had him facing Lynn from the front as he always liked to do.

"Well I'm just really happy you guys decided to join us. I thought you would be happy at knowing it was a horror film."

Not too far behind him, San and Mingi were already giggling amongst themselves, sending each other signals and jokingly theorizing how the night was going to go like.

"I am exceedingly happy Yunho. My body is so filled with joy and immense contentment that I can hardly keep myself from grinning." Despite the jubilant sentence, Lynn's face displayed absolutely no emotion and her raspy and low toned voice was still as monotone and lifeless as it tended to be. Yunho's bright smile nearly faltered, feet rocking back and forth awkwardly as he did not know how to proceed after such a statement. Luckily Mingi stepped in and changed the topic.

"Please tell me there's food in those bags and that we can have some." He pointed to one of the many bags that the girls were carrying.

Lifting one hand up then the other, Y/N shook the contents lightly.

"Your favorites." She chuckled when San came up and tightly squeezed her body into a hug.

"This is why I love you both." Y/N did not mind the slightest bit when he suddenly pulled her face towards his, mouth pressing hard and intense pecks on her cheek repeatedly as a show of gratitude. She was so used to his affectionate nature.

Turning around, Wooyoung cupped his hands over his mouth so that his voice could resonate loudly.

"Yeosang quit tinkering with it already! You're going to get dirty and we have a movie to catch." He shouted at whom the girls presumed was under the race car.

"You literally have speakers built into your vocal chords, there was no need for that makeshift megaphone." Lynn grumbled at him, causing the male next to her to burst out in a fit of giggles.

"Speakers built in hie vocal chords. Good one." Lifting his hand up, Yunho held it up towards Lynn, expecting her to high five him back but was instead met with her cold, squinting eyes that inspected his palm.

"Your aura is overly forced....and you have leftover grease on your hand." She looked away after finishing that sentence. Hearing her say that made Yunho instantly check his hand, immediately wiping it off on his jeans as he mentally slapped himself for looking like an idiot in front of the girl he fancied.

Not paying mind to whatever was happening around her, Y/N's eyes were glued on the figure that emerged from under the car. She couldn't help but admire the strong and buff biceps that were peeking out of the plain white tshirt the man was wearing, sleeves slightly rolled up above his shoulders. The angelic face belonging to him looked even more dazzling due to the light sheen of sweat around his temples, no doubt caused by the work he was doing. Even as he reached for one of the cleaning towels so he could wipe the grime and oil off his hands, Y/N continued to gaze at Yeosang, mind already conjuring up many ideas and fantasies with him as the main protagonist.

"Oh sweetie, you're not making this any easier." She mused inwardly, one of her fingers twirling a strand of her hair.

Discarding the rag on one of the toolboxes nearby, Yeosang carefully approached the group of friends, still awkward in interacting with all of them, trait that only helped in making him stand out like a sore thumb, more than he already did. Clamping a hand over his new buddy's shoulder, Wooyoung brought a hand up and patted one of his squishy cheeks.

"Now that you're finally here we can go." Looking around, Wooyoung gestured around.

"So who's riding with who?"

Immediately Yunho turned his face towards the girl next to him, about to voice out his want of having her in his car, but it seemed as if his plans would fall through as Mingi latched an arm around him.

"I'm going with Yunho." He seemed determined not to let go of him.

"Why? So you can cling to him during the scary parts?" A chorus of laughter poured out at San's amusing words.

"As if!" Mingi huffed, though it was more than obvious to everyone that it was precisely as San had predicted.

"Mingi... I was kinda hoping I could... you know?" Yunho tilted his head over to Lynn, making him get the picture of what he wanted.

"Whatever happened to bros before hoes?" Mingi sighed as he detached himself from Yunho.

"Ok then. Yunho you go with Mingi, San you can take the girls and I'll keep Sangie here company since he's still a little bit shy you know."

It seemed as if it was all decided about how their night was going to run, so Y/N knew she had to speak up and take the opportunity before it was all settled.

"Why don't I ride with Yeosang instead?"

Hearing her suggestion, the male in question widened his eyes in shock, not expecting her to voice that out loud. Even Wooyoung found it slightly odd and suspicious that she'd say that. But then he remembered the type of girl Y/N was and it started to set off alarm bells in his mind.

"Oh it's ok Y/N. You probably won't like to have him scream in your ear and cover his eyes like a baby at the jump scares." Not taking kindly to such blasphemous talk about him that painted an inaccurate picture.

But Y/N remained undeterred. She would stand her ground no matter what.

"Oh please, I insist. I'd love to take care of him..." She did not hide the sultry way she said that last part, eyes locked on Yeosang's, the boy swallowing hard and pressing himself further into Wooyoung's side. Wanting to bargain even further, Y/N took hold of her friend.

"How about this? Lynn goes with Yunho and Mingi, you ride with San and I get Yeosang?"

San cupped a hand over his mouth to muffle the laugh he wanted so desperately to release.

"I don't think it's just him she wants to get." He chuckled to himself.

"You're seriously leaving me alone with these 2 giants?" Lynn pointed to the two men at her right, one of which obviously was more than willing to welcome the arrangement.

"I promise Mingi won't disturb you too much with his crying." Yunho swore to her, hand coming up to clasp around Mingi's mouth when he attempted to protest that decision.

Wooyoung looked over to Yeosang, leaning in and dropping his voice so that only he could hear.

"If you don't want to, just say the word and I'll get her off your case." He offered. Although they had only met just a couple days ago, Wooyoung felt compelled and obligated to look out for the new boy, even if it meant protecting him from his other friends.

Knowing that he probably shouldn't and that it was a bad idea, Yeosang glanced over at Y/N. Meeting her eager eyes and cunning smile, any resolve to stay close to Wooyoung was immediately dispelled from his mind. He might never get another opportunity such as was presented to him and he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he was rather curious to find out more about the young vixen that he had heard so much about since he moved into town. With an assured smile that slightly worried Wooyoung, Yeosang stepped forward and held out his hand towards Y/N.

"Shall we get going then?"

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Unable to focus his attention towards the gigantic screen right in front of him, Yeosang slumped down further in his seat, fingers tugging his red sweater over his body. Every few seconds or so, he'd turn his head to peer at the girl on the passenger seat, looking exceedingly calm and collected unlike him. He was overly anxious to the point his food was still untouched, sitting in the backseat, long forgotten. Y/N, although collected, was bored out of her mind, elbow rested on the window, head being supported on her palm as her eyes never lingered away from the gore filled scenes being displayed across from them. There was a deafening silence inside the black Iroc Camaro, the tension between both individuals becoming increasingly thick.

Becoming desperate after 40 minutes of not getting him to make a move or even attempt to break the ice, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. Unzipping her green varsity jacket, Y/N began to slide it off her shoulders, revealing the low cut crop tank that she was hiding thus far.

"It's so hot today, don't you think?" She asked him as she tossed the clothing item behind her before settling back into her seat, fighting hard to keep her signature smirk off her face.

If he wasn't feeling hot before, Yeosang certainly started to feel heated after she had taken off her jacket. His hand reached out to grab the cup of soda in the cup holder, gulping most of the contents and ice down to help cool him down. He made an effort not to glance back at his companion anymore, knowing if he did he would have been unable to keep his eyes off her chest. Although it was dark and he turned away almost immediately, he had not missed the fact that she had chosen not to wear a bra, her nipples slightly poking out through the thin and flimsy shirt that even slowed one to make out the outline of her areolas. It was definitely a weakness of his, and Y/N was quick to find that out. Thumb coming up to her mouth, she began biting down on the nail to keep from giggling at Yeosang's reaction. He was devastatingly adorable with his wide eyes and stiffened posture, knee restlessly bouncing up in an agitated fashion. Looking in between his legs, she felt disappointed that she hadn't caused enough damage to earn a tent forming in his pants. He obviously knew how to calm himself in time. That wasn't enough to make her give up. On the contrary, it only hardened her resolve to get him to break.

Letting out an overly dramatic sigh, she reached her hands inside of her tank top. Cupping her breasts in her palms, she started off with slow movements, massaging them gently. Her eyelids started to flutter, closing only briefly as very faint and soft sighs were being exhaled through her nose. Although it was mostly done to tease the boy next to her, she got carried away and started to become more and more turned on with what she was doing. Each time she'd purposefully pinch and pull at her hardening peaks, a muffled whine would be heard coming from her throat, legs starting to spread inch by inch as her planters started to stick against her core.

Opening her eyes and tilting her head, she witnessed Yeosang's astounded expression that also held some lust in it. He was no longer sipping from his drink, but rather his teeth and tongue were merely toying around with the blue plastic straw as the grip on the base of the cup was lightly crushing it. The movie ultimately failed its purpose of keeping him distracted as his attention had fully diverted over to the sexy girl next to him, watching intently as she pleasured herself, wishing that it were his hands instead that were ministering such devotion to her breasts.

"Wanna be a doll and help me out here?" It seemed as if she had read his mind.

Without even a second of hesitation, Yeosang reached down and adjusted his seat back as far as it could go. Jumping at the invitation, Y/N climbed on top of him until she was straddling his lap. Yeosang's hands eagerly clasped around her waist, thumbs circling on the skin of her exposed abdomen. Cupping his cheeks, Y/N leaned her face down and harshly entangled her lips over his own. Yeosang hummed softly as he tasted the remnants of her cherry flavored chapstick, head tilting back when one of her hands tugged at his hair. His hands didn't hesitate to trail up and cup her mounds through her shirt, taking over the job that was previously being done by the owner's hands. Her insistent mouth parted his trembling lips, tongue poking out ever so slowly until it began divulging in the sweet taste of his wet cavern. Although he was no stranger to French kissing, Yeosang had never experienced a makeout session as intense as the one Y/N offered. She was very skilled and experienced, as proven by the swirl and swivel of her tongue against his own. He couldn't stop the moans pouring out from inside him, his hips bucking up into hers as if on instinct while his hands became more harsh and aggressive as they grasped at her breasts with near ferocity. Y/N would only pull away from their kiss for a few seconds to allow him to catch his breath before her lips lured him back into her. It was finally dawning on Yeosang's mind why so many men became captivated by her charms, even when knowing what the outcome would be. Here he was, the most lovely and hottest girl he'd ever met in his life, on his lap, making out with her while simultaneously getting to second base. He felt so damn lucky. But Y/N wanted to take it up a notch, not satisfied with ending the night with just heavy petting.

Sliding off his lap, she suprised him when she took hold of his belt and began to take it off him. Getting an inkling as to what she might have had in mind, Yeosang took hold of her wrist, making her head shot up at him.

"Is something wrong?" She began to get a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Had she really fucked things up already.

Yeosang turned beet red as he swallowed harshly, trying hard to form the words his head was attempting to sought.

"Are you.... are you a virgin?" She felt like she would have died if the answer was yes.

Seeing her worried face, Yeosang quickly shook his head.

"No! I'm most certainly not a virgin." He sounded almost offended at the insinuation, but it helped calm Y/N down, releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"I just...I've never tried...that before."

His confession just made him cuter in her eyes, previous desire to corrupt and play with him only heightening to new levels after that revelation. Wanting to entice him, she moved her hand to cup at his bulge, loving the way he immediately gasped when she started palming him through his jeans. He bit down at his lip so harshly he believed it would draw blood. He wouldn't contain himself as he bucked his hips up into her palm, desperately wanting her to help him out with his problem. When her fingers reached for his zipper again, he didn't stop her, he merely lifted his hips up to help her as she pulled his pants down by the belt loops, his hardened cock popping out to greet her, surprising her when she noticed how large and thick it was, the head leaking with precum which she used to her advantage and began spreading it down his shaft. The contact of her hand gripping him had Yeosang shuddering, low groaning spilling out his lips. Looking up at him with a devilish grin, Y/N began lowering her head until her lips brushed against his tip.

"Just sit back and relax pretty boy."

A raspy wheeze was caught in Yeosang's throat as soon as he felt her warm mouth on his length, hands flying behind him to clutch at the leather seat of the car. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It felt so dirty, so wrong and yet he wanted it. He wanted her........

He didn't care if he was playing with fire and he'd get burned by the end of it.

█ █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▃ ▂▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ █

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @yunhofingers @deja-vux @hanatiny @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @mingismoon @ateezbabysitters @minhyukmyluv @rainteez02 @nanamarkie @serialee

[jiminisnotavirgin]

A+

Pairing: professor!taehyung | collegestudent!reader

Genre: smut

Description: A one-on-one video call with your hot, college professor takes a surprising turn.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: inappropriate student/teacher relations, mutual masturbation, fingering, clit-stimulation, and innapropriate language.

Note: After much anticipation, I hope this is my return to the writing part of the lovely fanfic world. Here’s a little something mischievous and self-indulgent (clearly!). I started writing this when quarantine and remote-learning first began last year and I returned to it earlier this week. Let me know what you think :) I hope you enjoy A+. Love, Phoenix.

Email after email, document after document, the light from Taehyung’s laptop shines bright blue across his features. The hours go by and the sky grows darker but he remains at his desk, only taking small breaks to lighten the strain on his eyes. His chair creaks as he leans back and glances outside the window. Like most nights lately, only the stars keep him company tonight.

His courses shifted to an online-only remote format due to the need for social distancing. Despite the initial confidence he displayed to his boss and colleagues over the change, Taehyung is more unsure than ever. Frustration sneaks its way into his mind like a viper wrapped around its squirming prey. His life has turned into a turbulent sea of e-mails and complaints from upset students. What’s the best way for him to support his students? How can he assure them that their mental health is more important than any essay or assignment they’ll ever complete?

A sudden knock at the door steals his attention. Jungkook, his roommate and best friend, leans against the doorway with crossed arms. “Professor Kim,” he begins with a smirk. “Do you have a minute to speak?”

“What’s up?” asks Taehyung, ignoring his friend’s use of the name his students address him with.

“Did you see Jimin’s text? He invited us over for drinks at his apartment. Are you coming?”

“Can’t,” answers Taehyung. His computer glows in his peripheral vision. “I have—“

“Emails to write, work to do. I get it, you’re a busy man.” Jungkook shrugs. “I thought I’d ask anyway since it’s Saturday night.”

“Maybe next time.” Guilt floods Taehyung’s chest and makes it difficult to look Jungkook directly in the eye. Not only is he a shitty professor but he’s a shitty friend, too.

Jungkook finally steps inside the room, occasionally tinkering with Taehyung’s things until he reaches his desk. “Whatever. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Jungkook’s already-large doe eyes go wider. “Because all you do is sit at that damn computer all day!”

“I have to teach classes online, what do you expect?”

“It’s not healthy. You barely even leave your room to eat.”

“Who are you, the food police?”

“No, I’m your best friend,” Jungkook answers. “When was the last time you did anything fun? Or normal? You’re twenty-six, Tae, not a hundred and six.”

Taehyung sighs. “I can’t think about any of that right now. Actually, I should get back to my work...”

Jungkook takes the hint and leaves, but not without shooting a glare that makes Taehyung regret his choice of words. He can’t worry about it right now though—not when he has a call planned with you in about two minutes.

He was surprised to see an email from you in his inbox yesterday. You’re one of the students that hasn’t reached out all semester unlike most of the others in his courses. He knows just what kind of student you are: the type who floats through classes quietly but still gets high marks. You’re an older student. You fade into the background by avoiding the attention of your peers but your work stands out, therefore, you do too. He recognizes it because he was that student, too.

Taehyung opens the app for the call, expecting you to pick up after a minute or two but you answer within seconds. “Hello,” he greets you.

You tuck a stand of hair behind your ear and speak but no sound follows the movement of your mouth. He waits but nothing changes.

Taehyung clears his throat. “I think your microphone is off,” he says and types the same words into the chat box at the bottom of his screen.

You squint as you bring your face closer to the monitor. “Can you hear me now?”

He smiles. “Perfect. So, how are you doing? How’s the semester been so far?”

You shrug. “It’s been okay. I’m just trying my best, you know? What about you?”

“Pretty much the same. There’s nothing to do besides read and grade assignments.”

“I wanted to talk to you about the midterm, actually...” your voice fades out and your eyes drift away from the camera. He digs through his memory for what you wrote but his mind comes out empty-handed.

“Let me pull it up on my computer.” He searches through his saved files and documents.

“Oh, you don’t have to do all of that.” You pause for a few seconds. “It’s about my grade.”

“Let’s see... B-plus. Nice work.” When he looks away from your paper, he catches you frowning.

“Could you give me some feedback on it?” you ask.

“I left a few comments on the side,” he answers, eyes still glued to the document. He exits the window and focuses on your face once again. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. You’re a lovely writer.”

“Not good enough if I can only get B-pluses,” you answer with a sigh. Taehyung sits up in his chair, surprised by your shift in tone.

Are you looking for an explanation? A justification for the grades he’s given you? “Most students would be satisfied with a B-plus in an almost graduate level course.”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not your other students.”

His brows twitches. “Oh?”

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an arrogant jerk but I’m not used to getting anything lower than an A on my papers. The fact that I’m about to graduate and can’t hack yours is pretty... frustrating.”

He presses his lips together. “I don’t know what to tell you.” What do you want to hear? Can anything he’ll say wipe that glare off your face? It’s interesting to see you lose your cool after all this time.

You refuse to back down from the challenge. In this impromptu staring contest, your brown eyes penetrate his through the computer screen.

Taehyung decides to give in. Slightly. “One thing I will say,” he continues, “is that I’m particularly tough on my best students. If I gave you an A-plus on every essay you handed in, what would you work up to? There’s no doubt about the strength of your writing.”

Your expression changes immediately. “Oh,” is the only word that leaves your lips. The lines of anger decorating your forehead smooth out as your mouth eases into a relieved smile.

It’s in this moment that Taehyung finds himself looking at you. Truly looking at you.

There’s something about the determination in your face as you plead your case, as though nothing else in the world matters more. Your glossy, heart-shaped lips possess a reddish tint that reminds him of cherries, or rubies. Even through the pixels on the computer screen, you retain the same freshness he remembers from a few months ago, if not more now.

All this time on the computer has gone to your head, he thinks to himself. Perhaps there’s still a chance for him to catch up to Jungkook and the others.

A giggle erupts from your side of the call. “So my papers are good? And here I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“I didn’t mean to make you suffer,” he murmurs and runs a hand through the waves in his raven hair. His eyelids flutter closed as he sinks into his chair and stretches his arms. Finally, a meeting he can consider a success; a meeting where the student leaves the call less frustrated than when it began. He prepares to end the call and log off for the night.

Then he hears it.

It’s faint and quiet and quick but he hears it, as if all sounds in the world were turned off and yours was amplified. The sound echoes in his mind as though you were right there beside him: “If only you knew how you make me suffer.”

This progression of thoughts occurs in a matter of seconds. By the time he’s processed your statement, his eyes have been forced open and any chance of relaxation for the rest of the night disappears into thin air.

“What?” he asks, voice betraying the casualness he wishes to exude.

“Oh, nothing.” You blink innocently, long lashes fluttering like a pair of butterfly wings. “I just care about your opinion, Professor Kim, if you can’t tell.”

“Right...” His eyes trail to the messy display of pens and papers spread out across his desk—anything to avoid your gaze. Its intensity has multiplied a thousandfold and threatens to melt him like a popsicle in the sun. He ignores the surge of anxious heat flowing through his veins.

“I mean,” you continue, lips pursed. “Who doesn’t love hearing a little bit of praise every once in a while, right?”

Your statement hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity. His shirt suddenly squeezes his torso. His pants suffocate his thighs. The room feels like a furnace and dizzying all at once, but the tension in the air keeps him in the moment.

“What are you doing?” he finally asks.

All the blood drains from your face and your limbs freeze. You hold your hands up in the air. “I’m sorry, professor. I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” warns Taehyung. A new fire fuels his gaze. With his thick brows, chiseled face, and beautiful black hair to match, your professor is a flame and you’ve been dying to get burned since you first laid eyes on him.

You pull off your hoodie and toss it onto the ground behind you. With a small tug of your index finger, you adjust the spaghetti straps of your pink tank top, underneath which you wear no bra. Your nipples prick at the thin fabric that stretches with each of your breaths.

“You deserve so much more than a little bit of praise,” he murmurs, erasing any doubts over your advances towards him.

“I do?”

“Mmhmm. Especially since you’ve been such a good girl.”

This man couldn’t possibly be the same one that lectured your class all semester. Something sinful replaces the innocent, awkward mannerisms you’ve grown to know over time. No more does he hesitate with his words or actions. Instead, he leans towards the camera with his shoulders pushed back. You’re greeted by his neck and the tan slope of his chest that hides beneath the loose collar of his button-down. You want nothing more than to rip off his shirt with your bare hands. For now, you can only imagine what lies beneath.

“Good girls deserve rewards,” he says with a swipe of his tongue across his plump bottom lip, snapping you out of your daze.

“What should I do?” you ask and glance at your closed bedroom door. Fortunately, you locked it before the call started. You don’t want any intrusions from your roommate.

“You should wind down and take care of yourself. You’ve been working so hard.” His eyes dart down to your tank top. “Close your eyes and imagine it’s me worshipping your chest.”

Your eyes fall closed as your hands drift to the hem of your top. Your fingertips graze your stomach and stop when your skin begins to slope up into the mounds of your breasts. “What would you do if you were here with me right now?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d make it my mission to kiss every part of you but first, I’d focus on those beautiful breasts of yours. They’d fit in my hands perfectly.”

With your left hand, you grasp one breast and tighten your grip just the slightest bit. The squeeze forces a sigh from your lips and although your eyes are closed, Taehyung struggles to control his own breathing as he watches you begin to unfold. With the other hand, you bring two fingers to your mouth and coat them in saliva only to bring them down to your nipples which harden with each squeeze and stroke.

Taehyung swallows in anticipation. “Just like that. Keep going.”

“Wait, what about you?” you ask, voice raspy and slightly out of breath.

“What about me?”

“I’m not the only one who deserves a reward.”

“Watching you wriggle and writhe in desire is enough for me.”

You cross your arms. “Nope.”

He chuckles. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

“I want you to fuck yourself with your hand and imagine it’s my pussy squeezing the life out of you.”

Your words knock the air out of Taehyung’s lungs but he manages to recover quickly. “You may be a good girl but you’ve got a dirty mouth.”

You smirk. “What are you going to do about it?”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clinks from his end. “Touch yourself right now. Play with your clit and we’ll see if you’ve still got that nasty mouth of yours when you’re begging me to cum.”

You raise your brows. “I fully intend on cumming at least once in your presence tonight, professor, whether I have your permission or not.”

“Call me Taehyung.” He takes a moment to reflect on the current situation versus the dynamic you had only minutes ago. “Why now? Why did you initiate—”

“My grades go above all else. I didn’t want to jeopardize any of that,” you answer. “And I also waited for your sake.”

“My sake? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were doing this to secure your grades,” he muses.

“Nothing boosts my ego like getting an A-plus based solely off my hard work,” you answer. “Fucking my hot professor is for my own personal pleasure.”

You description makes it sound so typical, just another everyday thing like washing the dishes. Are you using him? Deep inside, the thought of you using him arouses him. He wants to be used by you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, suddenly absorbed by you and the way you carefully orchestrated this interaction. How long did you think about this moment? Were you afraid of rejection?

“I know. Everyone likes me but I always want what I can’t have.” You wink. “Life’s more fun that way.”

Fun. “Enough talk. Let me see.”

“Yes, of course,” you stutter, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. You don’t mind his demands or commanding tone. In fact, you invite them.

“Slide back,” he instructs you. “I want to see everything.”

You swallow and obey immediately, rising to pull your chair further away from the camera. You take the chance to slip off your sweatpants which leaves you in nothing but your underwear and tank top. Your underwear isn’t fancy but it’s what’s below that he’s interested in.

You lower yourself onto the seat, not bothering to keep your legs pressed together. You spread your knees slowly, as if your legs were a book with pages waiting to be read.

“Good. Open up more and show me how bad you want it,” he says. The smile in his voice urges you on.

Your hand creeps along the stretchy waistband of your underwear. The material works against you, forcing your wrist against your pelvis and the area you so desperately wish to touch. You have to be patient since you seek to milk this moment for as long as possible.

Your middle finger searches for any sign of dampness and you gasp when you find a small pool already built up at your core. When you look back at the monitor to see what he’d like you to do next, you watch as he adjusts himself into a similar position to yours.

“Your turn. Take off your shirt,” you instruct.

He raises his eyebrows. A mischievous smile dawns on his face. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“So demanding. That’s what got us here in the first place,” he remarks but proceeds to unbutton his shirt.

“I’m not afraid to go out and get what I want.”

“I know, and I admire you for it,” he says. His shirt begins to crinkle as he unbuttons lower and lower until eventually, the front parts to reveal his chest. His abs are soft and his warm honey skin looks smooth. You wonder what it would it taste like.

As he rolls up his sleeves, you observe every movement of his hands. They’re large. One of the first things you noticed about him when he spoke in class and lead discussions. You always wondered what his hands would look like if they were doing something else entirely... Now, your fantasies have come to life.

You force your jaw closed but he’s already caught you staring. “Like what you see?” he asks through his low lids.

“Oh, please. As if you don’t know you’re attractive as hell.”

A low laugh emerges from the man and you smile. If only you could bottle it up and keep it. When he reaches into his pants, you follow along, taking the slick from your finger up to your clit in one smooth stroke. You hum and bite at your lips to contain your reaction.

He shakes his head. “Don’t hide it. You sound beautiful.”

Your other hand starts to wander as you go to work on your clit. From your head to your chest, you seek something to ground you as your soft bud puffs with pleasure. No longer does it hide, tucked away beneath the crevices of your lips. You grind against it using your hand and a slow swivel of your hips from left to right.

“You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you,” coos Taehyung. “Your body was made for this. For pleasure.”

The sight of him gripping the base of his cock is almost enough to send you over. A light glaze of sweat builds on your forehead but you make no effort to wipe it. Taehyung wishes to feel the heat of your body on his. It’s probably better than anything he could ever imagine.

Perhaps now more than ever, he longs for the days before the virus took over and broke everyone apart. He misses those times so much he could cry, especially since he took them for granted. At the same time though, he thinks about the effort those close to him have made to keep in contact. Even old friends he hadn’t spoken to in years called to catch up with him. His students have stuck out the most out of anyone. One or two of them don’t even own laptops but they show up to class on time and bring their A-game. He believes he should take a note or two from them.

As he studies you, the way you squirm in delight, and the way your body responds to the ministrations of your hand, a wave of relief washes over him. If it weren’t for these circumstances, he wouldn’t have had this moment with you.

“Taehyung,” you moan, bringing him back.

The sound of you calling his name shoots heat straight to his cock. With the precum glistening at the top, he grabs his cock and works the tip using his thumb. “Fuck. Look at what you do to me,” he groans at the sensitivity.

“Please,” you take in a breath and continue, “t-tell me more.”

If praise is what you want, praise is what you’ll get. “You’re so hardworking in everything that you do. Look at you now. Touching yourself just for me.”

“Yes, yes.” You moan as your fingers settle into the one position that feels like you’ve struck gold.

“How far inside can those fingers go? I bet you can put them in real deep.”

It’s as though your hands were waiting for his approval. You slip inside your clenching, gaping hole using two fingers. They slide in easily but the initial stretch is foreign since it’s been so long.

Taehyung groans and for the first time tonight, you begin to see him lose control. His cool exterior sinks into the pleasure of his hand—and of you—leaving him a sweaty, desirable mess. His hair sticks to his forehead and his stomach clenches with each stroke of his hand. He moves slowly, trying to match the pace of your hand. You pick up speed and allow your body to move against the rhythm of your hand. Your insides feel warm and soft and slippery. You close your eyes and imagine he’s the one fingering you with those gorgeous hands of his.

The rubber band of pleasure in your stomach begins to stretch. The squelch of your pussy grows louder with each passing second.

Taehyung is well-endowed but never did you imagine his dick would expand so much in length and girth. He could spear your pussy in one fell swoop, destroying your insides and anything else that gets in his way.

“Taehyung, I’m close,” you say with a sigh. You barely have the energy to speak.

“Fuck, me too,” he adds. “I’m almost there. Cum with me.”

His hand travels from base to tip and each part of the journey is smoother than the last. He massages each vein and ripple and moves even faster when he catches a glimpse of the uneven quiver of your thighs. Heat churns in his stomach and all he can do is chase it desperately. He needs it like oxygen, to breathe in the sight of you along with the pleasure of his nether regions.

The rubber band snaps. It strikes you in waves, each crash stronger the last. You let the waves overtake you and succumb to the burst of pleasure spreading through your limbs. You pull out your hand and clench around nothing as the sensitivity forces your legs closed.

Just when you thought things were over, Taehyung makes a request: “Taste it.”

You waste no time in taking your fingers to your mouth, gliding your tongue on the pads of your fingertips, and spreading the salty fluid in your mouth. All you can focus on is the heavenly sight of Taehyung coming. Each breath he lets out comes with a moan. You swear you can feel the vibration of his low voice against your own chest. His hair covers his eyes but you know they’re closed in pleasure. He intakes one sharp breath before it finally takes him over.

He can feel nothing but release. Release of stress. Release of work. Release of anything except you. As white spurts of cum squirt from his dick in a messy stream of strings, all you can think about is the beauty of his body.

“This was fun,” you admit with a smile. “I’m glad my attempt didn’t flop.”

“No, that would’ve been a huge mistake on my part.”

As you look down, your eyelashes brush the top of your cheeks and you bite your lip in anticipation. “I know I’m graduating and all, but we should do this again sometime. If you’re interested.”

He rests his elbows on his desk and brings himself closer to the camera. With his hand holding the side of his face, he takes in the sweet sight of you. “Did you enjoy it that much?”

“Oh yes. In fact, unlike some people, I’d give you an A-plus.”

[anaveragebibliophile]

Impossible

Carlisle Cullen x OC

Summary: Carlisle and his mate Eloise receive some shocking news that they weren’t necessarily prepared to deal with regarding her health. Instead of seeing what’s right in front of him, Carlisle believes that his wife’s health issues are stemming from other avenues. It isn’t until his wife makes a discovery that he alters his course of action. 

Note: This is a deviation from what I normally post, but I hope that all of you will take the chance and give it a read. :) 

“I can’t even believe this is happening again. And with your wife of all people!” Jacob Black shouted as he walked into the Cullen family’s wide, contemporary kitchen. 

“Jacob, we’ve discussed this. Eloise isn’t like us. She isn’t a vampire, she’s a phoenix. As such, she’s capable of resurrecting the dead, the broken, the ill-equipped parts of us that are theoretically unsalvageable. And as things stand, we all know I’m infertile. Or that I was.” Carlisle explained. “Believe me, I’m just as overwhelmed as you are. Even more so because I’m still struggling to accept the fact that I helped someone--the woman I adore more than anything else on this earth--procreate.”

And it’s not like the couple had been trying either. Quite the opposite actually. Sure, both of them had done ample amounts of research--through legends and the like--to determine whether or not they would need to take precautions before having intercourse. From what little they could find, it appeared that exercising the freedom of caution was the best choice. Not only had pregnancies been reported, multiple births seemed to be a common occurrence. And even though Carlisle was reluctant to put his faith into these infinitesimal references, he still did what any self-respecting man would do: He made sure his strong, confident wife made the final decision about what she wanted to do. At the end of the day, her body would have been doing the brunt of the work had a pregnancy occurred. 

Eloise thought long and hard about this and would even go so far as to test herself. Did she want a child? Yes. Would she be a genuinely good mother? She hoped so. But the ultimate question remained: did she want a child with Carlisle? More than anything else in the world. However, it just didn’t seem like the right time. The pack was going through organizational disputes, the Volturi were still trying to find ways to get her and Alice to join their coven, and Bella and Edward were in the process of adopting a child. There was just too much happening around her for that to work out. Or so she thought at that moment. 

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

About two months later, she started feeling a bit off-kilter. She was suffering from myriad migraine headaches, her stomach always seemed to be queasy, and she was dealing with some intense bouts of insomnia (which she had never experienced as a child or even during her adult life). Her husband was increasingly worried about her. So much so that he would have her in his office every day for testing. At that point, he was looking for a dormant autoimmune disease, cancer, anything that would highlight these symptoms. What he wasn’t looking for was a pregnancy, a fertilized egg within his wife. 

One night, while the rest of the family was out hunting, Eloise and Carlisle were cuddling on the couch, her head in his lap. He was running his long, cool fingers through her hair and down her back, intermittently trying to coax her into eating a small piece of toast that he’d made for her. Yet every attempt didn’t do much. Regardless, he was hoping she would get her appetite back soon because her skin had started to take on a translucent pallor that he despised. 

“Come on, honey, just one bite. That’s all I’m asking for,” Carlisle said, putting the plate in front of her face. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m just not hungry. The entire idea of food is revolting. Plus, I don’t really want to repeat what happened a few hours ago.” Carlisle hummed in understanding. While he knew that Eloise was being sincere, he wasn’t pleased that she was still feeling so fatigued and nauseated. 

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

A few hours ago, as he was attending to a broken rib of Seth’s at the reservation, he received a call from Alice. ‘Eloise has been throwing up for the last forty minutes, Carlisle. She didn’t want to worry you,’ she’d started. ‘But you need to get back here now. I’ve been sitting with her, and I’m worried she’s getting dehydrated.’ Heart in his throat, he quickly finished his session with Seth, letting him know that he had an emergency that he needed to attend to. 

After parking the car, he ran into the house, heading straight for his and Eloise’s bedroom. And when he walking into the adjoining bathroom, he was shocked by what he saw: his wife, her cheek smashed against the toilet seat, breathing heavily in order to avoid another onset of nausea. In his peripheral, he saw Alice lightly rubbing Eloise’s back with her left hand and murmuring comforting words to her. 

Instinctively, Carlisle  moved towards his wife and took Alice’s place as the caretaker. “Hi, sweetheart. Alice called and said you weren’t feeling well. Can you tell me what’s been bothering you?” he asked, gently kneading the taut muscles in her lean back. 

Eloise slowly pulled her face away from the toilet bowl and looked at him blearily. “My stomach just isn’t feeling super fantastic at the moment. I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to keep anything down. I haven’t been able to since about two o’clock this afternoon.”

“Well, you haven’t been at your best recently. Do you think that may have something to do with it?”

“Perhaps. But I haven’t had this happen before. Yes, I’ve experienced nausea and some stomach cramping, but it never ended with me vomiting for hours on end.”

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

And that was what still puzzled Carlisle in this moment. Why was this happening to her when nothing was physically wrong? She didn’t have AGID nor was there any evidence of malignant tumor growth. She wasn’t running a fever nor was she displaying any signs of infection. So what could it be? He was determined to find out. 

He lightly ran the pad of his right thumb over Eloise’s cheek. “Sweet girl, I think it’s time that I do an ultrasound on your stomach. Maybe that will give us some answers. What do you say?” 

“Alright. You’ll probably have to carry me though. I haven’t been doing well vertically,” she said, slightly smiling. 

“Your wish is my command.” 

He proceeded to carefully--oh, so carefully--move her head off his lap and onto a pillow (as a replacement). Then, when he was completely erect, he swiftly leaned forward and placed his forearms underneath Eloise’s lumbar vertebrae and upper thighs. Once she was secured in his arms, he gently kissed her cheek and proceeded to move them into his office, the one room in the house both of them have grown to resent. 

Placing her on the exam table, he grazed his hand through her bangs in the hope of soothing the anxiety that was coursing through her. “It’ll be alright. You know I would never hurt you. Never.”

“I know. It’s not that. I just don’t want anything to be wrong. I want to be healthy,” she said, her voice on the verge of breaking. 

“You will be. I’ll make sure of it,” Carlisle responds as he pressed his forehead against hers. 

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

Eloise smiled wanly as her husband went through his check-up regimen: ears, eyes, nose, throat, body temperature, blood pressure, then reflexes. While she may complain every now and then about his overprotectiveness, she really does feel so grateful and lucky to be married to a man whose compassion and kindness are limitless. This man always makes her feel valued, appreciated, and heard, especially apart from the rest of the world. And these are things that will never go unnoticed by her. He will never go unnoticed by her. 

“How are things looking, Doctor Cullen?” she asked. “Am I passing inspection?”

Carlisle lightly laughed at her attempt at a joke. “So far things are looking good. I think we’re about ready to do the abdominal ultrasound and see what things are looking like down there.”

He moved over to his white, sterile metal cart that held the handheld ultrasound. The plan was for Carlisle to put the clear lubricant on her belly, place the ultrasound on it, and then wait for the image to connect to the screen to his right. From there, he’ll see if there are any obstructions or issues. 

“Are you ready, honey?” he asked. “If it’s too cold, just let me know.” 

Eloise held her two thumbs up. “I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

The exam began. For a period of time, the sound and echo waves were all they could hear. Eloise was holding her breath. Carlisle’s face was pinched, his eyes and ears hyper-focused on the task. Until the heartbeat-like echo struck back at them. 

His wife lifted her hand to stop him from continuing with the examination. “What was that?” she queried. 

“I don’t know, darling. I don’t know.” he said. “Let’s try again and see if we get the same feedback.”

He continued his inspection but still received the same results. The heartbeat was unlike any he heard before (besides his wife’s): strong, pure, yet calm in its essence. Before he could ponder any other reasonings behind this strange occurrence, Eloise interrupted him. “Carlisle, we both know that’s a heartbeat. You can question it and try to find other avenues to follow, but you know the truth. And a heartbeat can only mean one thing,” she smiled, so big that her dimples were more pronounced than ever before. “We’re pregnant. My magic enabled us to create a baby.”

He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “We don’t know that.”

“But we do. Carlisle, all the signs have been pretty prevalent these last few weeks. I just never thought to associate them with pregnancy because we agreed we would wait to start trying. I guess the universe had other plans.” 

“Eloise, honey…”

“You know it’s true. I do because I can feel our child. Now, after all this time, he or she has decided to make their presence known. The energy I feel--the positivity and contentment I’m now carrying in this moment--is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.” 

Carlisle looked at her, stunned. If she can feel their child, how could he dispute that? How could he challenge what she (and he) knew to be true in all its unlikelihood? It wasn’t like this was entirely impossible, especially after reading about other couples’ experiences. Couples like them. 

Eloise took his moment of consideration to move his hand to her tummy. “I know it’s hard to come to terms with right now because we weren’t sure how true the reports were, but I think it’s time we start believing in them. Carlisle, you’re going to be a father, and I’m going to be a mother. We’re going to finally have the opportunity to expand our family.” 

Hearing those words made Carlisle outright grin. They had been waiting for this moment for so long that he never believed it would ever actually happen. But now, he has everything he could ever want in the palm of his hand. 

“Well, it would appear that way,” he said, leaning over his wife to give her a heart-stopping kiss. “And I must add that I’m excruciatingly happy. Thank you, sweetheart.” 

[quietmyfearswith]

the mission ; syverson x stucky x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count —   4,350 words

warnings — SMUT, double penetration, triple penetration??? oral sex (giving and receiving), foursome, unprotected sex(dont do this), swear words, competition(ish)

pairing — syverson x stucky x fem!reader

a/n — DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18,, pretty self-indulgent so what about it,, wanted to post this as my first fic for 2021 so we can start the year with a bang but hey the year is still new so hope this counts,, feedback is appreciated

masterlist

“Tell me again, why are we meeting up with this person?” If you told people that there were times that Steve — Captain America as most of them are most familiar with — was egotistical enough to the point that he believed that intel from outsiders weren’t needed, they wouldn’t believe you unless they saw how he was currently. When the military told them that some of their men have discovered remnants of HYDRA, Steve was fine with that vague lead since he thought that they could take it from there. However, his pride took a hit when the military insisted that one of their men be sent over to the compound to assist them.

Y/N then scheduled for Captain Syverson to meet with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes so they could discuss what the special operations captain saw. Sighing irritatedly, the assistant of the Avengers paused in the middle of the hallway so she could look the super soldier in the eye, “Look Captain, I know you think you can do this alone — you’ve proven to me and your fellow Avengers that you can — but the military and government believes that you need more hands on deck, okay?”

Crossing his arms, Steve opened his mouth to argue but opted not to, “Good, now behave okay? Bucky’s almost done training the recruits; so he’ll be joining us shortly.” As she walked away from where they stood, the captain bit his lip as he watched her ass and legs strut away in the green and white plaid dress that she was donning. Hearing her fingers snap together brought him back to reality and made him follow her steps.

“Captain Rogers, meet Captain Syverson from the military’s special operations,” Y/N introduced the two men to each other, who were visibly appalled at the thought of having to shake hands, but a stern look from the girl standing between them prompted the Texan captain to hold out his hand to which the Brooklyn captain shook briefly but with a tight grip before letting go. “We appreciate you coming here, Captain Syverson.”

His response surprised Y/N, but in a good way, and she smiled brightly at the simple interaction the two had. “You can call me Sy; only prefer being called Captain by those who are under me.” The wink he sent the only girl present in the room gave her the implication that there was a double entendre in his statement; whereas the enhanced super soldier caught on and was displeased with how he was hitting on Y/N.

Puffing out his chest and rested his hands on his belt buckle, “Well Sy, why don’t you share with us what it is you saw.” Nodding, Sy grabbed the folder he brought with him and handed it over to the Captain; Y/N was setting up the laptop and projector that was in the conference room. Steve skimmed through the files as Y/N displayed some of the satellite images that were taken. “Have you or any of your team members been inside the facility?”

Shaking his head no Sy explained, “We didn’t dare to. Though I had some soldiers stake out and in their week of monitoring they didn’t notice anyone come in or out.” Placing the folder on the desk, Steve instructed Y/N to show more of the pictures and she complied, “How come you didn’t get in and check it out? Isn’t that what a captain does?”

“Steve,” Y/N scolded him as she looked at him with a warning look but despite her piercing gaze he remained unfazed as he gave a challenging stare to the other captain — one which Sy wasn’t afraid of. “A captain’s duty is to lead his soldiers and make the right calls; it wasn’t our mission to look for the abandoned facility but we found it anyway. We just ensured that there wouldn’t be any criminals that we could possibly encounter that would interfere with our mission.” 

The tension was thick in the air when Steve gulped down — not wanting to admit that Sy made a valid point. Striving to cut the tension in the room, Y/N stood up as she spoke, “Okay, great points. Should you plan to check the place out,” She was talking to Steve who was intently looking at her with a look he’s never given her before; she struggled to continue with her point with how intense his stare was, “Secretary Ross decided that it might be better for you to tag along,” Sy nodded as he was being talked to.

“Just me? Or would my men be included?” Sitting back down on her chair she browsed through some of the files she had prepared for their meeting as the two men watched her like a hawk, “They want you out on the field along with Steve and Bucky; but your other men can help behind the scenes.”

Displeased with the new information, Steve crossed his arms from where he was seated, “No, he is not joining us on the field,” He was now standing up, as if he was trying to assert his dominance and authority over the other captain who seemed undaunted as he stood tall. “Why the hell not?” 

“Jesus Christ, stop it, the two of you!” Y/N held out her hands to create space between the two charging bodies, her hands landed on their pecs and she had to stop herself from enjoying the feel of their skin against her fingertips, “You both need to calm your asses down! I don't know what it is about each other that ticked you off but you guys are gonna have to work together. Now, why don’t we calm down and try to get along?”

Running a hand through his buzz cut hair, Sy was the first one to speak since he wanted to charm Y/N, “I’m really sorry about my behavior, love,” His larger hand reached for hers and placed a kiss on the back of her palm; Steve sharply looked at how affectionately the other captain gazed at the assistant who had been responsible for his orgams without her even knowing it, “I’m gonna be on my best from now on; especially when I work with the former soldiers.”

Having enough of what he said Steve made his way to the two of them, breaking off their clasped hands so he could hold Y/N’s, planting himself between the two he gruffly said, “You know what bothers me? Is the way you’re hitting on Y/N.” Sy could not hold back the smirk as he somewhat felt a sick pride rush over him seeing the infamous hero getting riled up because of him, “Don’t recall you being her boyfriend; so really I can flirt with her as much as I want.”

She doesn’t know why, but Y/N was extremely aroused with the way they discussed her as if she weren’t there. Ultimately it was the way they both battled for her really made her panties dampen. “Who would you rather fuck?” The blunt question had her jaw dropping in shock and disbelief; she always knew how Steve was direct to the point, but never expected him to be straightforward in a sexual context.

“I don’t know,” Her eyes darted back and forth from the two captains, “You’re both very attractive; but I never imagined both of you being attracted to me.” It was difficult for her to hide the faint traces of her insecurities which the two men were quick to pick up. Steve caressed her hand that he held as he sincerely cooed at her, “How can I not want you? And I’m not just talking about your divine body. Your patience in handling us is unlike any other. You’re extremely compassionate and kind. When I look at you I see a woman whose beauty on the outside matches the beauty within.”

The other hand that Sy held was being placed with a kiss that despite being gentle was contradicted with the rough sensations of his beard, “I’ve only known you for a while but I have to second the motion; you are a force to be reckoned with. While there are parts of you that clearly cannot be tamed and that your fire was meant to remained ablaze,” He hoped that she got his reference of her dangerous line of work and with the small nod she gave him affirmed so, “But you also have the tranquility that a mother possesses.” 

A small smile broke out of Y/N’s face after their speeches; but the serene moment quickly faded when the super soldier brought her hand to his crotch, letting the wide-eyed girl feel the hard on that he frequently spotted around her. “This is just one of the other pieces of evidence I have about how great you are.” Walking up to stand beside Steve, Sy grabbed her other hand and pressed against his own staring erection as he smugly boasted, “But this is a bigger evidence of how much I appreciate you, sunshine.” 

“I’m flattered,” Y/N nervously began as her eyes darted back and forth from the two large men, pulling away her hands from their hardened cock as she felt incredibly shy about the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t an answer that pleased either of them or answered Steve’s earlier question. “But the question is still left unanswered Y/N,” The blonde man to her right reminded her, “Who would you rather fuck?”

Gulping down her nervousness before answering, “Honestly? I want you both.” Even though she shyly confessed that, it was all the fuel both captains needed for their ego as they silently just had established a competition between themselves — get her to feel confident about herself as they both intend on making her so cum hard the only thing she’ll remember is their name. Steve brought a finger underneath her chin, lifting her gaze up to match his hooded eyes, “You’re beautiful, Y/N,” He affirmed to her before bringing their lips to touch gently. Eyes closing as the super soldier savored the feeling of her lips that he's been dreaming for so long; and his dreams couldn’t even compare to the feel and taste of her lips. 

As their lips pulled away from the steamy kiss, Sy tore away her lips and planted his own lips against hers, “Absolutely stunning, one of a kind,” Were the words he spoke as their lips locked and tongues danced. Feeling his beard tickle her neck as his lips trailed down her jaw and neck, she giggled lightly and opened her eyes to view Steve whose eyes darkened — though she didn’t know that it was due to his lust and longing for her, as well as the jealousy due to the scene unfolding in front of him. Pulling away from the kiss, Sy then lifted her up to the table and sat her down. Without even speaking, he made his move to undress her — grabbing the cloth by her cleavage, ripping the dress in two to expose how she chose to forego a bra and was only wearing a poor excuse of panties; the Texas raised captain could only smirk as he went down on his knees while he slid her lace undergarment down her legs. 

“What a devious little thing you are,” Her attention was shifted to the Brooklyn-raised captain as he spoke; she instinctively spread her legs which didn’t go unnoticed by Sy who smirked in appreciation before lunging forward to lick her through her panties — causing her to gasp out loud, rolling her eyes at the pleasure.  Annoyed with how he was being undermined, Steve grabbed for Y/N’s cheeks and kissed her fervently, making him moan in bliss as the kiss exceeded his dreams and expectations. “This what you want? Want two men proving to you how goddamn beautiful you are?”

The question was rhetorical, but somehow she found herself whining as she nodded against his lips where their lips met for a heated kiss. Grinning at her state, Steve ended their kiss as his lips trailed down her chin and to her neck, searching for her sweet spot. Just as he sucked on the skin below her jaw, she tried to squeeze her legs together to alleviate the arousal she was feeling — but it only made Sy smirk and encourage him to push aside her panty and directly get a taste of her.

“I’m gonna taste this pretty pussy okay? Why don’t you show Steve over here what that pretty mouth can do besides ending tension okay?” With a shaky sigh, she nodded as her eyes watched as Steve got on the table, kneeling beside her, all while he undid his belt and pulled the zipper down to free his cock. “I’ve been fantasizing about what that mouth would feel like ever since you joined,” His filthy confession made her bring her thighs together again to relieve her of the ache she felt; but all it did was make her feel again the trimmed hair of Sy who was placing gentle kitten licks on her pussy, “And now I’ll find out if you’re as any good like I thought you would be,” Served as his final warning before kneeling on the table by her head and feeding his cock to her waiting mouth.

Groans were heard from the two captains but for similarly different reasons; Steve loved how his cock slid down her throat easily without gagging, and her hollowed cheeks and expert tongue providing him pleasure but it was also the way her one hand was sliding from his balls to the base of his cock that almost made him cum. Whereas Sy couldn’t get enough of how sweet her juices were; he was sliding two fingers in and out of her, and everytime he pushed them right back it became harder for him to do so with how her walls were resisting them — it made him think about how her walls would resist his cock. “You like this don’t you? Like being used for our pleasure?”

A pathetic whine was all that she could let out seeing as her mouth was preoccupied with Steve’s cock was prohibiting her from speaking clearly. “You’re too invested that you can’t even remove my cock from your mouth to answer properly,” Feeling her nod against his cock just added to the bliss he felt. Shaking his head as he licked her cunt and fingered her pussy, Sy loved it when her thighs were rubbing hard against his beard and some of her juices were sticking to his facial hair.

Y/N was surprised when Steve pulled his cock of her mouth, “Not yet baby, I’m not cumming in your mouth just yet.” With his lips still pressed tightly against her pussy lips, Sy smirked at him, “Or maybe you just can’t cum at all.” That statement reminded both men that even though they intended to make her feel how beautiful she was, they were still competing for her. Sitting up with the support of her elbows, Y/N watched closely as Steve grabbed Sy by the shirt, dragging him away from her pussy, resulting in him sitting up on the floor on his bum. He planted himself on one of the conference chairs and once settled, grabbed Y/N’s hips so she was straddling hovering his cock, “It’s because I’d rather cum inside her pussy.”

With one hand on her hip, the other one guided his cock in her tight canal easily. “Oh fuck, you’re so big,” She moaned as she rested her hands on his shoulders as she rode him slowly, getting used to his size. Calloused hands were on her ass as Steve guided the pace in which they were fucking. His lips were pressing firmly against her breasts, leaving his traes of desire on them. As her eyes were closed in pleasure, she didn’t see how Sy was freeing himself from the restrains of his pants; after doing so he stood up from the floor and sat down on the conference table. 

“You’re gonna suck my cock while you ride his dick; so turn around,” It took a while before she did so, but Y/N had to push Steve’s face gently from where his mouth had been enveloping her nipple. She turned around to face Sy who was stroking his cock with hunger on his eyes; moving her hair from her face, she rested her hands on the knees of the man in front of her before lowering her lips to wrap it around the tip of his cock. “That’s a good girl,” He sighed out in pleasure, one hand finding purchase on her hair.

Jealous at the thought of having to share her or her attention, Steve kicked off the chair he was sitting on and stood on his feet and helped Y/N to do the same. With her bent over, the super soldier grabbed for her hips and rammed in and out of her pussy with short and rapid thrusts. Sy allowed her to take control of how she wanted to suck him, but he couldn’t help himself as he thrusted his cock in her mouth a few times, relishing in the moans she let out when he did so. “See what you do to us?” Steve asked as he felt his tip graze her sensitive spot, feeling her thighs shiver leaving him to hold both thighs in his hands.

“You make us feral,” Sy continued his train of thought as his hand added pressure on the nape of your neck, making you take him deeper, “You’re so goddamn beautiful that you make us lose all logic.” It was amazing to him how her tiny throat could accommodate all of him, and the way her nails dug into his thighs only added to his pleasure.

Bucky had just finished his training session with the recruits and was dying to get to his room to shower off the filth and sweat. Before getting to do that he first had to meet with a captain that was said to have intel about HYDRA; so imagine his surprise when he enters the conference room and sees three people fucking and not discussing mission details.

A man with a buzz cut — he inferred that was Sy — was sitting on the desk with his head thrown back in bliss as he was being given a blowjob by Y/N — the Avengers’ secretary whom he had been fantasizing about — while she in turn was being fucked in the pussy by Steve. “Well if I knew the meeting would look like this I would’ve ended the training session.” 

Steve just smirked at his best friend who was leaning against the wall, “This is Sy,” He nodded to the man sitting at the desk who waved with his free hand from Y/N’s hair. Approaching the three of them Bucky inquired, “She any good at sucking cock?” 

“The best; gag reflex is practically non-existent,” Steve recalled as he was now rubbing her clit, loving the way she was squirming against his body. Her hands were settled on Sy’s thighs, anchoring herself and leaving nail marks on his skin. “Her throat is tight but I doubt it’s tighter than her pussy.”

Bucky grabbed her hair to stop her from sucking on Sy’s cock, “Never pegged you to be a willing cumdump; you just needed a lot of cocks to fulfill you huh?” Despite her face having a mixture of saliva and the precum of both captains, she bashfully smiled at the sergeant. Stroking her cheek gently, the Texan captain demanded a verbal answer, “If he asks you a question you are expected to answer, beautiful.” Feeling the force of Steve’s harsh thrust, she managed to let out a choked out response, “Yes! I need a lot of cocks to satisfy me.”

Halting his assault on her pussy, Steve slid his cock out of her, “I’m gonna fuck her ass, Sy you get her pussy, Buck you start with her mouth first.” When Sy pulled her off his cock, Y/N was able to gulp nervously at the thought of taking all them at once; however she wasn’t given enough time to react to it as Sy was dragging her to ride him as he sat at a chair. Carefully, he helped her descent on his cock as the man groaned against her neck when he felt how her warm and wet she was, “Did the captain really fuck you, beautiful? You’re still so fucking tight.”

“I did, and I fucked her good,” Steve asserted as he lined his cock up behind her other hole, “That’s just another reason why you’re beautiful, doll. You’re just so fucking tight no matter how fucked you are,” And to emphasize his point, he slide his tip inside her ass and stilled upon feeling her walls constricting around him. “Goddamn, doll,” Steve breathed out as he shoved more of his cock inside her, his whole cock now shoved deep in her ass.

Her mouth hung agape as she felt two cocks having a go in her — loving the way she was never fully empty since when one thrust out, another slammed right back in. Taking advantage of her opened mouth, Bucky stood by the side of the chair and presented his cock to her, “Take it all in princess.” Like an obedient girl, she did wrap her lips around the ridge of his cock and began sucking on it as best she could.

“See what you do, doll? You make us go ravenous for you,” Steve emphasized his point as he mercilessly thrusts in and out of her ass despite her walls clinging to him, begging him to ease down. Agreeing with the captain, Sy sucked on her nipple harder as he thrusted sharply on her pussy, “Make us want to shower you with cum to prove how divine you are.”

Stroking her face gently contradicted how ruthless Bucky treated her mouth as his balls were slapping her chin repeatedly — allowing some of her drool and his precum to fall graceless from her mouth — before adding, “Only a pretty girl like you can make three soldiers fall apart.”

And fall apart was exactly what was bound to happen as Steve planted his hands on her hips so he could gain enough leverage to fuck her ass relentlessly, until his balls slammed against the rim of her opening, until he felt himself come undone with one final thrust all the way inside her. “Fucking hell,” He panted out against her back as he felt himself unload almost a year of desire inside her.

With much reluctance, Steve pulled out of her ass and rested against the conference table to catch his breath and recover. This then allowed Sy to knead his hands into the skin of her ass so he could move her up and down his cock, chasing his own impending orgasm. “Cum with me, beautiful,” He harshly demanded against her skin as moved her in time with his thrusts, “Let me feel you fall apart and come on my cock.” And to prove how badly he wanted — no, needed — to feel her hug his cock even tighter as she spasmed in pleasure — her to cum, he slid in and out of her at a rapid pace until she was clawing at his chest and he felt her body tense up then relax as she coated his cock with cum. 

Moaning out at the relief of her release, Bucky enjoyed the added vibrations on his cock — adding to the pleasure as her tongue licked and swirled around the underside of his cock — while watching her ride out her orgasm. It wasn’t long before Sy too stilled his movements so he could release his seed in her. “Fuck so good!” He yelled out as he stayed inside her, relishing the feel of their combined juices. Seeing how her mouth went slack and her lips weren’t sucking on his cock anymore, the sergeant pulled out and stroked his cock as he rubbed the tip of his cock against her nipple. Shivering at the sensation, she stared at him with doe eyes as her dainty hands wrapped around the base of his cock and his balls, “Cum for me, Bucky.” It was the way she sultrily whispered it that made him throw his head back and moan as he covered her gorgeous tits with his cum.

Loving the way her breasts were marked with his cum, she tried to milk more out of the super soldier by rubbing the tip of his cock with her thumb as the other hand fondled his balls gently. “You’re one special girl,” Steve spoke as he watched intently the scene in front of him. Smiling at the praise, Y/N stopped stroking Bucky’s cock when she milked him already. After leaning down to press a chaste, sweet kiss on Sy’s lips, she removed his cock  from where it was deeply planted on her — with a moan falling from her lips — before standing up and heading to where Steve was in order to do the same.

“Thank you for proving how beautiful I am,” She sweetly thanked them once she pulled away from the kiss. “Now hold on,” Bucky spoke as he made his way to stand beside Y/N, “I think you’re gonna need more proof of how beautiful you are.”

Catching his drift, Sy sat up straighter in the chair before agreeing, “Exactly, and we might need to give you individually are our own reasons.” She held her breath once more as she felt Steve pepper kisses on her shoulder, “Think you can handle us individually, doll?”

Desperately, she nodded as she enjoyed the feel of his lips kissing her skin. With two fingers grabbing onto her chin, Bucky made her face him, “Good, ‘cause I haven’t been inside that lovely pussy and ass of yours. Oh, and I got a long list of what makes you fucking beautiful.”

[frustratedpoetwrites]

when Lily’s normal route home from work is closed she has to find a new way, and discovers a cute little bakery with a viewing window into the kitchen.

Read on AO3

Lily Evans had no problem walking around London. Her flatmates would always tell her to be careful, take the train, the bus, or even an Uber. Like she could afford to take an Uber every day for goodness sake. Lily  had a plan to pay off her student loans before she was thirty, and a tight budget to meet that goal. So she walked nearly everywhere, no matter the weather or the season. That’s what waterproofs, big coats, and good shoes were for. 

Her favourite was the walk home after finishing a night shift at around 5 am when the sky was just waking up. Not that a person could see much of the sky when walking through the built-up areas of London. The streets would be free of nearly everything but the vans delivering the first edition papers to the newsstands, or the milkmen doing their rounds, milk bottles clinking as the electric carts trundled past her. She hadn’t even realised milk was still delivered this way, not since she was a child growing up in the long narrow streets of Cardiff could she remember collecting milk from your door. 

She always walked the same way. Turn right from the hospital, then keep going straight across three traffic lights until she came to the rather grand looking Empire Hotel. There, cross the street and take the diagonal alleyway down to the underpass. Putting her foil-wrapped packet of leftovers from the night shift into the outdoor sleeper’s donation box, then up along a collection of grubby shops around the kids’ play park and then home.

That had been her route for months, it was the shortest she had managed to find. She never worried about muggers or strangers, she knew how to look after herself if anyone did try. Fourteen years of Thai-Kwon-Do training did that to your confidence. But even despite that, wearing her NHS ambulance uniform was like wearing an extra layer of protection anyway. So walk that way she did, every single time without fail. Until one day the alleyway was blocked by a great big orange barrier, stopping her halfway along.

Lily grumbled thinking they could at least put a sign up by the entrance and not make her walk all the way up here first. She disliked the idea of backtracking too far so she got out her phone and let it find her location. The maps on her device were notoriously inaccurate, usually putting her in the general direction of about three different streets, but this time it pinged her straight away and gave her a dotted line to follow. Just a little further down from the blocked off alleyway was another little side street, this one brighter and more welcoming than her usual route. There was also a fantastic smell of baking bread emanating from one of the buildings.

Normally at this hour, the only shops with any sign of activity were the 24hour convenience shops with their harsh strip lighting, lino floors, and soulless self-checkouts. As soon as she saw the front of this place she wished she had found this route sooner.

It looked straight out of a Dickens novel with its small square glass panelled bay window, the outside woodwork and door painted British racing green and with a swinging sign in the shape of a mushroom-like chef’s hat. She read the name of the place written in golden cursive lettering, Too Hot to Handle. She nearly laughed out loud. As she stepped closer wondering when they opened she spotted the small side window into the kitchen, where the baker was busy making bread.

Was there anything in the world more satisfying than watching someone knead dough? The way the shoulder blades slid underneath the thin t-shirt, biceps bulging and contracting. Strong hands gliding the dough, fingers sprinkling down the flour. 

Perhaps Lily was a little obsessed, perhaps not everyone thought the way she did about bread. The smell alone was making her mouth water, but perhaps if they also happened to walk past a bakery that had a viewing window into the kitchen they would find it equally mesmerising. The muscled back in question that had first caught her eye never faced the window, never even lifted their head from the task. She stepped away reluctantly, promising herself to come back when they were open.

The next morning she had to walk past the bakery once more. She was pleased to see it hadn’t been a figment of her overtired brain. The swinging sign and golden lettering were a welcoming sight to her. Once again her footsteps slowed as she approached the window peeking into the kitchen, she let herself stand a bit closer this time, breathing in the delicious smells coming from the extractor vent. Was it the same baker as yesterday? He still didn’t seem to notice her looking at him, his methodical movements were efficient and captivating. He was making rolls, two at a time. A figure coming into the kitchen broke her stare and she looked away from the baker to see a woman standing in the doorway to the shop looking curiously straight at her. Guiltily she stepped back like she had been caught peeping at a changing room and rushed off up the street, her heart beating.

For the next few days, Lily’s mind kept going back to that little street. She was on her rest days so had no reason to just randomly walk past. She would actually have to stop and buy something. She had not had a properly made crusty roll from a bakery in so long. There was nothing in the world as comforting as freshly made bread. She remembered her dad making some every Sunday as a treat until his arthritis made it too painful. She had already started to fantasise about what it would taste like, what kind of bread would she buy? It wasn’t that she had a problem, of course she didn’t, but back when she had been training more, it had become a staple to stop at the bakery on her way home from the gym and buy herself a doughnut. She still remembered the way her sister had always commented on it, making her feel like she should be ashamed of eating anything at all.

Luckily for Lily and her mental health she had stopped listening to what her sister thought of anything at all long before that moment, in fact, it would make eating the sweet treats taste that much better. She wondered if they did french pastry too? Unfortunately, she was still too mortified about being caught sneaking outside to go in. Even the next couple of times walking home in the early hours, she made sure she took the detour past but refused to let her feet linger, telling herself the smell was enough. 

*

There were no leftover sandwiches when she walked into the break room at the end of her shift. There were always leftover sandwiches. It wasn’t really that big of a deal, but on top of everything else that had happened this shift, it made Lily almost feel like crying. She had been on an emergency call trying to keep them calm, willing them to keep talking to her until the ambulance arrived. She had stayed on the line with them well past the end of her shift, not wanting to leave even after she heard the paramedics arrive and she was supposed to hang up, she had listened to them working to stabilize them enough to transport. It was only when the line went quiet that she disconnected, knowing they were on their way to the hospital, to the best possible care. Being an emergency call operator was never an easy job, but some days were way worse than others. Lily had just wanted to sit in the break room for a few minutes to settle herself and eat something sweet to feel better. But the staff room that always had snacks of varying levels of freshness was looking extremely clean and bereft of anything apart from coffee. She sighed, thinking she would have to brave the Tesco on the corner of her street before she went home, being unable to rely on the contents of her own fridge. She hated that supermarket, especially when she was already past the point of regular tiredness. It was going to be a slow walk home.

She thought that until she walked past the little bakery. The bakery that was not closed. The smells of baking, more intense than ever with the shop door propped open by a statue of a round fat man in a similar chef’s hat to the one on the sign. It had been over a month since she had been seen at the window, surely enough time had passed for her to no longer be embarrassed.

Inside the shop was just as pretty as the outside. Shelves lined with wicker baskets filled with so many types of bread covered the back wall. Glass fronted display cabinets filled with colourful dainty cakes, pastries, meringues, pies, and biscuits, made a barrier between where she was standing and the server. There was not a great deal of space where she stood, even less behind the counter, it was small but every part of it had been maximised to its full potential, the selection was astonishing, considering she was pretty sure all the work was done by hand. Lily had no idea how long she stood there astonished by the selection. It reminded her of the fancy cake shops she had seen on her school trip to Paris as a teenager.

When Lily finally tore her head away from the displays long enough to look at the server, she recognised them as the same women who had spotted her at the window. She looked to be in her sixties Lily guessed, her short grey hair was kept neatly in place by the white hat she was wearing, her intelligent eyes were watching her with polite interest. And her smile was warm and welcoming. Lily tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looked back down at the display.

“Two sourdough rolls, and three Pain Au chocolats’ please?” she asked shyly. The ladies’ smile broadened as she turned to fill a paper bag with two intricately scored round rolls from one of the baskets behind her. Lily glanced to the side door, she could hear the sound of dough being slapped against the table, but wherever they were standing they were not visible from her position.

She paid for her goods contactlessly, grabbed the paper bag as it was handed to her, and practically ran out of the shop.

She unfurled the top as soon as she was out of view, unable to wait until she was home to eat the pastry. She was so hungry she didn't waste any time but bit about half of it in one. It was sweet and buttery, with a softly melting chocolate centre, she had never tasted anything that came even close since that same Paris trip. She was just finishing it off, licking her fingers unashamedly when she reached the underpass. Because she was later the usually unidentifiable lumpy sleeping bag was a person sitting up. She did not hesitate at all before handing them the other pastries still in their smaller paper bag, hoping they wouldn’t be disappointed.

“No leftover sandwiches today I’m sorry,” she told them, not waiting around for a reply. She was beginning to feel a rather welcome sugar rush, pushing off her fatigue for long enough to keep her legs moving and back to her flat.

When she finally got home, she sat down hard at the kitchen table, contemplating just going to bed instead of trying to eat anymore. But the sugar from the pastry was wearing off and she knew she would wake up famished, and sooner than she wanted to if she didn’t. Wearily she lifted herself back up and looked in the fridge. There wasn’t a huge selection to go with her bread, but there were some cheddar slices and still a little bit of her dad’s homemade chutney.

The first bite made her make a noise she had never uttered outside of her bedroom before. The way the crispy crust broke making that wonderful crackle as her teeth sunk through to soft inner bread, the flavours of the cheese and pickle mingling perfectly, she was in complete heaven.

“My god, Evans I thought you’d brought a bloke home!” Marlene, her flatmate, exclaimed walking out of her bedroom already in her scrubs, blonde hair tied back severely into a bun. “You’re home late, bad shift?” Lily just nodded and took another bite, swiping the crumbs off her chin with a finger, “Do you want to talk about it?” Lily shook her head and moaned again. “Jeez Lily, why don’t you take it to your room? What’s in that sandwich?”

“This is the best thing ever, you have to try it.” Marlene looked sceptical but nevertheless took a bite out of the roll and her eyes rolled backwards. No words were needed Lily just nodded her agreement.

*

Lily didn’t think about the little bakery until she was standing outside it again the next morning. She should have just kept walking, she knew it would be closed. Why had her feet even come this way at all? But her feet wanted her to have a closer look at the treats on offer, and perhaps a peek at who was making them.

The dark-haired, broad-shouldered guy was there again, his back to the window, hands and arms busy working the dough on the table in front of him, she thought he was making some kind of small pastry, his fingers were deftly twisting then placing on large greased trays.  He was wearing black and white check chef’s trousers today with the same long sleeved, tightly fitting, white T-shirt she remembered from before, his shoulder blades danced underneath the cotton, the ribbon of his apron crossing tightly around his neat waist, and a red and black bandana covering his head.

She couldn’t make out his face. Not even in a reflection, as every surface in that room was stainless steel or wood.

“Good morning,” came a female voice from right beside, making Lily jump out her skin and turn like she had been caught with her hand in the sweetie jar.

“Hi, sorry,” she gave her a nervous smile, “ just looking at your wonderful cakes.” She felt the heat rise up in her cheeks at the obvious lie. She was at the wrong window.

“Did you enjoy the rolls yesterday?” she asked next, making Lily stop.

“Yes, thank you, they were wonderful,” she replied, impressed.  “You must have a good memory, I’m sure you get loads of customers every day” 

“True,” she replied with a twinkle in her eyes, “ but not normally as early as you.” Lily shrugged looking down at her shoes.

“Yes, I’m just going home from my shift, I finished a bit later yesterday so you were actually open.”

“Oh, we are open now, if you would like to buy something. Not quite as much is ready yet, but we have croissants just out of the oven.” She started walking back into the shop as she was speaking so Lily had no choice but to follow her in. Lily’s mouth was already watering at the thought of the buttery flakey pastry.

“Just out the oven?” Lily asked in a delighted almost whisper.

“Oh, yes. How many would you like?”

“Four?” Remus had thrown a strop yesterday when he’d discovered she’d gone to a bakery and hadn’t brought back anything for him so she would make sure she did today.

“No problem, I’ll just have to go get them. They might still be a little hot but I’ll put them in a box for you.” Her voice trailed off as she went into the kitchen leaving Lily to stand and wait. “JAMES!” She heard the woman shout from another room. “Where are the..? Oh, never mind, I found them.” She came back carrying the kind of boxes that were normally reserved for delicate cakes and placed it on the top of the glass for Lily to take.

“May I ask, do you make everything by hand?”

“Well not me personally anymore, I help a bit but it’s mainly my sons who do all the work,” she stated proudly. “Would you like anything else?” Lily shook her head.

“I would love too but I don’t have the time to burn it off anymore,” she confessed and the lady smiled politely. She paid for her pastry, went to leave but before she reached the door the thought struck her.

“Did you open just for me?”

“Oh, no my dear we just decided to open a little earlier today for no reason at all.”

* 

Lily arrived back at her flat to find Marlene and Remus already sitting at their kitchen table expectantly. Remus was hugging the biggest mug they had and the smell of roast coffee was thick in the air. Marlene was wrapped up in her fluffy pink dressing gown, her hair in rollers. Lily remembered her saying she was going to spend today with her girlfriend, the doctor. Lily thought she might have been here already. Dorcas often spent the night, especially if they both had the rare occurrence of a shared day off the next day. It was a little cliche for nurses and doctors to date, but understandable as who else could understand the demanding schedule of hospital staff. But it seemed that Marlene had made plans to meet her later. Where Marlene looked like she was on her way to being ready for her day, Remus looked like he had barely woken up. 

“Wow Remus, what’s the occasion? I don’t normally see you out of your room before noon?”

“Marlene and you were rhapsodising about those fucking rolls you had yesterday. I just had to try for myself, so hand them over.”

“Who says I want to share?”

“That box you are holding,” he replied with his hand out, with an exaggerated sigh she placed the box in his hand and went to make herself some tea. She smiled to herself as she saw the teapot already sitting with a herbal tea bag inside.

“I would have poured it already but I know you don’t like it over brewed.” Marlene told her with a smile, and she was right. Lily hated the bitter taste if it was left too long. Coffee was her favourite but she would never sleep if she took any now.

“No cakes?” Marlene exclaimed sounding slightly disappointed, taking a croissant out the box. “These do look good, though.” Lily tried not to roll her eyes at her friend who had the sweetest tooth, Lily, on the other hand, didn’t quite so much, she liked chocolate but preferred it more on the dark side. She was the type of person who would eat the rich fruit Christmas cake but leave the icing.

Remus picked up one for himself. “They’re still a little warm!” he exclaimed with joy. Without being asked Lily took the jar of chocolate spread out of the cupboard and placed it with a knife in front of him, he didn’t say anything just smirked at the jar.

“Oh my fucking god,” Marline said her mouth full, she moaned leaning back in her chair looking up at the ceiling. Remus and Lily both watched her, slightly stunned by her reaction. Remus pulled a piece from the end and popped it in his mouth. His reaction wasn’t quite as extreme but his eyes closed as he savoured the flavour nodding to himself as if agreeing with Marlene.

“Good lord, can you two get a grip on yourselves?” Lily complained before sitting down and taking a bite of her own. She thought she knew what it would taste like having already tried a breakfast pastry just yesterday. The outside flaked but not enough that you were left with a mouthful of crumbs, the inner layers were soft and pale yellow, with almost a lightly toasted flavour. 

“Huh?” she said amazed.

“You need to tell me where this place is. You can’t deny me this, you have no idea,” Remus told her earnestly.

“Do you and these need to get a room?” Marlene giggled, looking in the box for more.

“Says the woman who was moaning not two minutes before.” Remus glanced at the single crescent moon left in the box, then at her. Lily took a long sip of her tea before placing it down with a sigh. 

“You two can fight over the last one or be adults and share it. I’m going to bed.”

“Lily, where is this place?” Remus called to her pleadingly

“Buccaneer street,” Lily replied with a yawn closing her bedroom door, and blocking out her two best friends.

*

Lily awoke to a quiet house. This was not unusual, Marlene was often on the opposite shift to herself and Remus tended to spend most of his awake time doing whatever freelance photographers did outside the house.

Sleepily she stretched and put her slippers on, shuffled back to the kitchen hoping they had refilled the coffee machine for her. She had left her phone on the kitchen table and the screen lit up as she sat down.

Two texts from Remus and an Instagram notification. 

Remus: I found your bakery. 

Either I need to start going to the gym again or find a man who likes my dry wit and stunning 

personality.

Remus: The baker is HOT. Like OMG are you kidding me hot!

Having that viewing window into the kitchen is genius.

I could have stared at that arse all day.

Lily rolled her eyes as she tapped out a reply.

Lily: Haha I knew you would love the place, it's cute isn’t it?

Lily poured herself a large cup of coffee and was settling down to drink it when her screen lit up again.

Remus: Update. So I got talking with the owner and said she would be happy for me to take a few pictures to help promote their business.

Apparently, they’ve not been there that long.

I’ve already taken a few snaps for my insta.

Lily exited her text messages and opened her Instagram and selected Remus’ page. It was always full of an assortment of fabulous pictures of all sorts of things, normally related to current events. But all of them today were pictures from that beautiful tiny bakery. Her breath caught when she viewed the last picture. The grey-haired lady who had served her both times without the usual white hat and apron, wearing a cornflower blue dress covered in tiny white flowers, standing smiling proudly, an arm around the two men standing at each side of her with their backs to the camera completely dwarfing her. They were wearing matching bandanas and T-shirts but instead of the usual plain white she had seen every time, these were dark green and both said Too Hot….? across the shoulders.  Euphemia Potter with her sons: James and Sirius Lily read. At least now she had a name for each of them but still not a face to the bakers. Which one was her baker?

Lily: Your skills are slipping, Remus. Are they so ugly you had to save us from seeing their faces? 

Remus: They wanted to promote their brand and not their faces, which I am so upset about. They are both extremely handsome, but Sirius (the one with the sleeve tattoo) is so hot I almost dropped my camera.

Lily looked a bit more closely at the photo and spotted the arm with the intricate sleeve work. Unfortunately, this still wasn’t much to go on. They both had dark hair the majority of which was hidden under matching bandanas and the same build, was one a little shorter? 

Lily: Did he show any interest back?

Remus: Sort of. I’m not sure, I’ll tell you about it when I get home. Are you working later?

Remus, as it turned out, was hopeless when it came to making a first move, and had no additional information to tell her beyond the fact that when he had told Sirius he liked his tattoos, Sirius had complimented his camera and touched his arm. This to Lily was a ringing endorsement of interest at the very least, but not to poor Remus who couldn’t even say for sure he knew he was gay.

This just made Lily shake her head at her poor clueless friend, and decide she would have to do something about this herself. The way Remus was talking about him she just knew this had to happen if it was at all possible, she owed it to Remus as his best friend.

Going back to the bakery for the third day in a row, Lily’s budget was really starting to take a bit of a battering. She wasn’t sure if she could keep this up. Buying things in London was expensive, buying handcrafted artisan food in London was enough to make you consider your life choices. She would sacrifice her budget, just this once. 

It was not exactly the day off she had originally planned. That day had included wearing her pajamas all day, a scorching hot bath, a bottle of wine and not leaving the flat at all. But here she was, dressed in her best fitting jeans, midnight blue top, long grey oversized cardigan, and ankle boots, standing outside the little bakery waiting her turn. She had never been in the middle of the day before so had never had to que. This did not bode well for her plan at all. She couldn’t be charming and funny and ask for his number for her friend if she was holding up the line. She just couldn't do that, she hated people who did that. Well, hate was a strong word, she would get mildly disgruntled if she had to wait behind chatty customers when she was in a hurry.

The first barrier to get over of course would be Mrs Potter, perhaps if Lily could get her inside help? But the relationship between sons and their mothers was a tricky thing. She would have to tread carefully, she had grown far too fond of this place to have to stop due to a misunderstanding with the owner. The line got closer to the shop and she could now see inside the kitchen. The stainless steel table was bare and wiped clean, no evidence of the usual industry. She tried to suppress her disappointment, feeling more than a little guilty for objectifying whoever it was she had been looking forward to watching. 

The que ahead was going down quickly now, and just before she reached the door a customer came out clutching a large paper bag to his chest.

“We’re sold out folks.” Lily heard a strong male voice call out to the waiting customers, who immediately started moving away, with less grumbling than Lily would have thought. This must be a regular occurrence.

“Knew I should have gotten here sooner, dang it.” The man behind her spoke, before heading back up the street in the direction of the Empire Hotel and the main road. Lily watched him go and noticed she was now the only person left waiting, seeing this as a perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation without holding up any customers she stepped inside. The man who had spoken had his head down adding numbers to a large notebook as she walked in. She tried to look for any signs of tattoos but his arms were covered by the same style white coat that she’d seen Mrs Potter wearing. But where her coat had a large golden E on it, this coat had an ornately scrolled S.

“I’m sorry if you didn’t hear, but we’re all sold out,” his voice trailed off as he looked up from his task, her heart gave an involuntary flutter as he shot a lopsided grin at her while dropping his pen. He wasn’t wearing the chef’s whites, but Lily was pretty sure this must be Sirius. He was incredibly handsome, dark eyes regarded her behind dark framed glasses, that rested on a bold but not over large nose, his strong jaw had a hint of stubble that suggested he had either missed shaving that morning or was someone who needed to shave more frequently. A green and white check bandana covered his head showing very little of the dark hair underneath apart from at the nape of his neck where a few strands had escaped and were curling.  He flashed another smile at her showing perfectly straight white teeth. “All I’ve got is coffee. Would you like some?” The way he asked wasn’t the usual seller to potential purchaser tone. It sounded to Lily like he was offering her a friendly drink. 

“How much is your coffee?”

“Oh no, it’s not for sale, it’s just I’m going to have a cup, so if you want some too you can. It’s not good enough to sell to customers.” He flushed slightly and shook his head. “I’m sorry. Mum usually does the customer side. I need more practice. It’s not terrible I promise.” 

“The coffee or your customer service?” she replied with a twitch of her own lips.

“Both could be better,'' he replied. That lopsided grin was back again as he adjusted his glasses and made his way over to the only plastic thing in the shop apart from the till. He looked at her expectantly as he held two empty mugs. 

“Eh, yeah sure. I’ll have a cup. Milk and one sugar if you have it.” Lily was trying her best to stop admiring him. She had never found herself attracted to someone quite as quickly before, especially not someone who Remus was hopeless about. Lily determinedly squashed down her attraction, her friendship code wouldn’t allow that. From what Remus had told her she was pretty sure Sirus wouldn’t be interested in her anyway. Remus might not be sure, but Lily knew that he had a tendency to get rather flustered around attractive men, and miss the most obvious of signals. “I hope your mum’s okay?” she asked, taking the mug quickly as he was holding the handle out to her. 

“Oh yeah, she’s fine, just her day off.” He waved his hand casually before grabbing his own mug. She took a sip of the coffee as she tried to think of a way to bring up the whole reason why she was here. He was right, the coffee wasn’t good enough to sell. It tasted like the stuff she occasionally had to drink from her work’s vending machine. She tried to hide the grimace at the taste. 

“I have a friend who was here yesterday, he said you’ve not been open long? But you must be doing well to sell out so quickly.”

“We’ve been doing okay,” he replied modestly, giving a shrug and rubbing the back of his neck. “We normally have more made, but on the days my mum isn't here it’s more difficult to keep up, you know?”

“Yes, I understand, that must be so difficult to manage. Did you relocate far, because it doesn’t seem like you're new to this?” Why was she interviewing him? This wasn’t how it was supposed to be going, but she just wanted to know everything about him. It was incredibly charming, the way his eyes would meet hers then drift away like he didn’t want to be caught looking too intently at her.

“We had a place in Brighton, it did pretty well but just didn’t get the foot traffic. A developer offered to buy the whole row of shops well above the market value, so mum decided we would try our luck in the city instead.” He seemed to be relaxing into the conversation, resting a hip against the back counter, his free hand holding onto the edge. Lily found herself clinging on to every word he uttered, he had a very calming tone to his voice. He was so fascinating to her. Oh, it wasn’t fair that someone could be so attractive and so unavailable.

“Oh, I love Brighton, me and my mates would go all the time when I was at Uni, there are some really great bars and drag shows, it’s always a fun night,” she told him earnestly. “There is such a good scene in Brighton you must miss it.”

“Maybe a little but honestly it’s been a long time since I went out regularly, and the bars were never really for me. Bakers have to be up too early in the morning to spend all night out drinking.”

“The hours must make it difficult to spend time with your boyfriend,”  she asked him, trying her best to sound casual. He choked on his coffee.

“Boyfriend?” he spluttered, making her shrug.

“I just thought a handsome guy like you, no way you’re single?” She smiled at him warmly, he was clearly a little shy talking about this as his cheeks flushed slightly. He even looked attractive when he did that.

“That’s nice of you to say, but sadly I am definitely, extremely single. What about you? Anyone special in your life? Did you come to my shop to buy sweet treats for them?” She shook her head in reply.

“No, I’m just as single too. I guess we’re both as bad as each other?”

“Eh yeah, I guess we are. It’s a nice change when someone comes in and isn’t mad we have sold out of food. ” He took a long drink from his coffee, his eyes watching her intently over the top of his mug. It would have made her blush if she thought he had any interest in her.

“Yes I can imagine.” She really could sympathise, her own work took up so much of her time, a social life beyond the occasional night out with her friends was pretty much beyond her. “Well if you ever get a day off and want to go drink better tasting coffee than this I know a few places, one not that far from here in fact.”

“You do?” he asked, sounding surprised,.“I’d like that. It’s my day off tomorrow actually, it’s probably too soon…”

“No, tomorrow would be nice. Shall we meet here around this time?”

Remus was sitting at the kitchen table once more when she got home, various piles of chopped vegetables arranged before him in neat piles. She loved it when she was home for Remus’ cooking, it always made her feel like they were their own little family. She walked up to him and hugged his shoulders as he continued to chop mushrooms into four.

“You seem happy,” he observed, “did you have a nice day off?”

“It was nice actually,” she replied, releasing him and grabbing a slice of pepper, “I’m off again tomorrow we should do something.” He shrugged and nodded in a maybe kind of way. Which was as close to a yes I’d love to as she was likely to get.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Oh, nothing in particular, we could just go out for coffee, or whatever.”

“Lily, you constantly complain to me that barista coffee is overpriced, to be fair you complain that most things in London are overpriced” his eyes squinted at her suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

She took a bite of the pepper and tried to look innocently back at him. “Why do you think because I want to do something nice with my friend you immediately think I’m up to something? It’s outrageous.” She finished her pepper before giving a dramatic yawn. “Well, I think I’ll take a little nap before dinner is ready, unless you want some help?”

“No, I’m good thanks. Pretty sure I can manage to make pasta sauce without your assistance, I’ll wake you when it’s ready.”

*

Lily was enjoying walking with Remus, they didn’t do it nearly often enough. Normally when she walked it was by herself, with a purpose and normally at a brisk pace, but not today. Today she was strolling casually with one of her best friends, back down to the street where the bakery was. Her arm was linked through Remus’ who, as always had his camera slung around his neck making him look more like a tourist than someone who had lived in London their entire life. Freelance photographers lived for that perfect image that would make them, they also never took a day off. Lily had given up trying to get him to part with it for at least a day long before now. But it seemed today he was content to leave his camera at his side.

Either Remus was no longer suspicious of Lily’s motives to go for coffee with him , or he had decided to play along. He was looking very fine in chinos and a coral v-neck jumper. He had styled his sandy locks, and it was flopping over to the left side of his face in a perfectly casual way. She was pretty sure the reason why he was so nicely dressed and no longer asking questions was because he had sussed out her cunning plan to set him up with Sirius the fit bakery guy. Especially as he had not even commented when there were a dozen nicer coffee shops much closer than the one she had suggested.

“Can we please stop pretending  that we aren’t going to the bakery now? I’m pretty sure you are setting me up in some way here, and by the direction we are going, it has to be with that delicious baker boy,” Remus said finally, making Lily chuckle slightly.

“Why do we have to stop pretending? I was having so much fun watching you silently holding back your questions.” He didn’t respond at first just compressed his lips into a thin line and continued their walk in companionable silence.

“You may as well tell me, we are almost there.”

“Well okay, yes, but you have to pretend to be all shy and surprised to see him, I want my matchmaking skills to be on full show.” She hugged his bicep briefly, making him shudder at the contact. Lily loved when Remus was slightly off balance it made her feel a bit more normal about her own insecurities.

“Lily, there will be no need to pretend, I’m already in danger of sweating through my jumper,”

“But you look so handsome,” she replied looking up at him adoringly making him smile a small pleased smile. “Sirius isn’t going to know what hit him.”

“Oh, I hope you’re right.”

Lily spotted him before Remus did, standing outside his bakery, talking to another man, who Lily assumed was a customer by the familiar paper bag he was carrying. At least she thought it was the same guy who had offered her a coffee yesterday. She recognised the smile first, and his laugh as it drifted towards them. Lily had thought he looked handsome before in his white coat and bandana, but it was nothing compared to how he looked with his hair set free. He had so much of it, how on earth had he kept it all under that piece of fabric. He was wearing jeans and a short sleeved shirt. Lily looked curiously to Remus when he stopped walking, a funny little half smile on his face. Sirius walked over to them smiling and raised his hand to shake Remus’ own, his forearms clearly visible, without a single tattoo. Lily’s heart began to hammer slightly as the reality of the situation dawned on her.

This wasn't Sirius.

This must be the other brother, the one that Remus hadn’t said much about at all. He could have warned her how disarmingly handsome he was. Remus shook hands with him enthusiastically, looking more amused than disappointed at Lily’s mistake. “Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” not Sirius replied, with a sidelong look at her. Lily crossed her arms and squinted, this was not how this was supposed to go.

“Lily, have you met Sirius’ brother James?”

“Not properly, no,” she said slowly he offered his hand out to her and when she took it she had the strangest sensation, almost like pins and needles shooting up her arm. “You knew I was going to bring Remus, didn’t you?” She asked him letting his hand go probably a little too quickly but she felt so completely off balance.

“When you said you had a friend visit the shop the day before and then asked if I had a boyfriend I kind of guessed. It was flattering actually to be mistaken for him, he’s normally the one who gets all the attention.” Lily wanted to say that she found that hard to believe but she was struggling with the ability to form coherent sentences.

“So Sirius, is he?” Remus asked, taking advantage of Lily’s silence and James smirked.

“He told me he wasn’t sure if you were picking up his signals, he felt off his game without his hair to flip around.” He played with his own hair for emphasis, Lily’s heart gave a little flutter. Remus reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s his turn in the window today,” James continued, “it does draw in the customers.” He was watching her again, his hands in his pockets, trying not to be too obvious about it but every time she caught him looking at her it was like she was under a heat lamp. How could she have been so stupid yesterday not to see?

“I’m sorry I thought you were your brother, even though I’ve never met him.” He smiled at her again giving her both barrels of his dazzling white teeth.

“Oh, you will meet him soon enough, he’s just cleaning up. Mum said she’d close today, the customers never argue with her.” He took a step backwards in the direction of his shop still looking at them. “I’m just gonna go see if he’s ready.” James turned sharply before trotting over and disappearing down the small gap between the bakery and the next shop. As soon as he was out of sight Lily’s knees felt weak, and she grabbed onto Remus to hold herself steady. Remus turned to her, his face looking concerned.

“Lily, are you okay?”

“I’ve made a complete idiot of myself, what’s he going to think? This is terrible and he’s so cute. How did I not notice?” Remus looked at her astonished. She took a couple of breaths as Remus steadied her with a hand on her waist.

“And you say I’m an idiot when I see an attractive man. Lily, he adores you, I could see it clearly.”

“No, he was just being polite about the mix up!”

“He was trying to be polite, but he couldn’t keep his eyes away from you.”

“You really think?” She tried to get a grip on herself, she knew in herself she ever saw Remus or Marlene behaving this way she would tell them to do just that and probably be a lot more blunt about it than Remus was being.

“Yes I do, so stop thinking like you’re an idiot and let's go have a really nice time with two really nice boys, okay?” As much as she didn’t particularly relish the idea of going on what would be a double date with Remus, in this moment she was glad he was there. He had talked her back from the edge.

“You’re right, okay.” She closed her eyes and exhaled fully to expel the last vestiges of her anxiousness . “So do you think this is like a double date? He’s not exactly asked, and he knows I wasn’t exactly asking him. So is this a date?”

Remus rolled his eyes at her and threw up his hands. “You need to stop, you need to catch your breath and stop overthinking this.” He rubbed her arm. “He wasn’t mad or offended, he said he was going to get his brother. He was giving you full on smouldering eyes so badly.”

“He’s so lovely, what do I do?”

“Lily, I know it’s been a while, but you’ve had a coffee with another human being before.” 

He looked up then and his cheeks started to flush slightly, she followed his gaze to see James returning with the person who could only be Sirius, and now she understood what James had meant about Sirius always getting the attention. He was the type of person that drew every eye , even without trying. He flicked his long black hair over his shoulder as he walked towards them, already smiling confidently.

 Lily understood perfectly why Remus had found this man so attractive, he was clean shaven with strongly defined cheekbones and a slightly sharp chin. He was perhaps an inch shorter than his brother but you could only tell if they were standing side by side like they were now. Seeing them in person she saw they were not that alike at all. Sirius was wearing skinny jeans and a tucked in dress shirt with its sleeves pushed back above his elbow, the top two buttons were undone leaving it open at the neck revealing some braided cord necklaces. His eyes were pale and they looked at Lily with warmth as he reached out to take her hand, his intricately tattooed forearm clearly visible.

“So it’s you I have to thank for setting this up then?” He tilted his head and looked at her admiringly. “I was annoyed at myself for not being more obvious and asking for your friend's number,” when he said those words his gaze turned to Remus and then never left. “James can tell you I haven’t stopped talking about him ever since that day.” Lily watched her friend react to such an intensely obvious stare, he looked a little taken aback at first, but slowly the edges of Remus’ mouth curled up and his eyes met the others blushing  slightly. 

“Sirius, you say it like it’s been weeks, it was only two days,” James piped up with a smirk, drawing Lily’s attention, she smiled back at him enjoying this shared moment. “But yeah it’s true.” Sirius returned his gaze to her and took her hand once more to quickly place a kiss upon it. 

“Thank you,” he said then gestured to his brother. “And James thanks you too. If nothing else than stopping me from being a -- what did you call me? ‘A mopey arsehole?’” He let her hand go and turned his full attention back to Remus, who was standing very still and looking like he was totally captured by the magnetism of Sirius and his smile. “Shall we let these two get better acquainted?” He asked Remus, offering his arm. 

“Er, yeah okay.” he managed to reply, a bright smile appearing on his face. Remus took his arm and they started walking off together already talking to each other like this was more than only the second time of meeting.

“That went well, I think,” James said as they both watched them walking away, heads close together. “If you don’t want to - I mean it’s totally fine- I understand if you didn’t really.” His sudden insecurity made Lily’s own nerves fade a little. He was just as nervous as she was, she noticed as he raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck.

“No, I would love to. As long as you do? I really want to go have a drink with you,” she looked down at herself, and tried not to sigh. “I just wish I’d made more of an effort to make myself look presentable.”

“What I’m seeing you look pretty perfect to me,” he replied, which made Lily snort out a loud laugh. 

“James, that was quite a line,” she chuckled, making him blush and look down at his feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I liked it.” She took a step towards him and lifted his chin so his eyes would meet hers again. She glanced over to where Remus and Sirius were now standing facing them, Remus had his camera up to his face and Sirius was casually resting an arm on his shoulder. “They look like a couple already, how is that possible?”

“Sometimes things are just meant to be together, like tomato and basil, or hazelnut and chocolate,” he suggested offering his hand to her. When she placed her hand into his, fingers sliding along his roughened palm she knew exactly what he meant. 

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Deceitful Memories (1/?)

Pairing; Past! Professor!Clark Kent x Student!Harley Quinn, Professor Clark Kent x Oc!Kobalt Mckennan, Jason Todd x OC! Astrid

Warnings(for entirety); swearing, stalking, teacher x student relations, smut, dubcon, noncon, obsessive behavior, slow burn, fingering, voyeurism, nudity, masterrbastion

A/N: I wanna thank @heraclesmaximoff for helping me write this and putting up with my constant blabbering. I love you to pieces

Part One

WC: 1.5K

Warnings: Clark having thoughts of a past student, swearing, college au, innocence

Clark shuffles the stack of paper on his desk. He’s still got twenty minutes before new students start shuffling inside the classroom for the first day of the semester. He stands upright, fixing his shirt in his pants and looks beside him at the chalkboard. It’s been wiped down recently and at the very top, in cursive writing, yellow chalk displays his name. It’s only his fourth year teaching, and first at this particular school. He’s hopped around colleges more times then he cares to count during his teaching. It’s not like him to stay for a few months before taking a break or choosing to leave on his own will before he gets too comfortable in the setting of a school.

He stares at his wrist watch as he sits back down before grabbing a pen. He taps the top of it to his chin as the ticking noise of the clock hanging above his head gives way to the silence around him. He knows he should be reading over the notes stacked in front of him.

But all reasonable thoughts escape him when memories flood into his mind. This time last year, he’d caught sight of her blonde hair in pigtails, the tips dyed pink and blue respectively. He thinks about her giggling away in class. Images of her on her knees underneath his desk during classes. A shudder sends a thirsty chill down his spine as the clock finally rings out, indicating the first class of the day.

He mumbles her name to himself one time in a longing whisper as students start shuffling into the classroom. He knows it’s going to be a long two hour class, especially since it’s barely nine in the morning. He glanced around as his classroom steadily became fuller, chatter filling in the silence he found himself longing for.

The class ended two hours later, sweat beading down the back of his neck. Thoughts of her clouded his mind throughout the lesson, yet, he was proud to admit that he didn’t allow the distractions to disrupt his teaching. The class held a few more students than he’d originally anticipated. He’d learn their names eventually, if he stayed the whole year.

Several students had stuck out to him, a red headed female named Pamela Ivey. She held the same giddy personality as Harley, another of his favorite students from his previous school. There was another student, she seemed too intense in her studies. Clark knew he’d wanted to keep an eye on both of them. There was a young man in the class, Clark quickly remembered his name as Bruce Wayne. He had to remember that Bruce came from money. He’d have to keep himself on his toes around that kid. Money and scandals never end well.

As the students shuffled out of the classroom, Clark braced himself against his desk, hands holding himself upright. His tie was loosened and his hair was slightly out of place with all the times he’d run his hands through it, head hanging low. Otherwise, he displayed no sign of agony or discomfort. Thoughts of his previous schools ventured into his mind throughout the lesson, yet, he was confident enough in himself to keep them at bay.

However, his thoughts went haywire when the sound of the classroom door opening caught his attention. Momentarily, he’d forgotten all about the flyers clinging to the bulletin boards around the compass looking for a teaching assistant. “Class doesn’t begin for another hour,” his baritone echoed in the silent room as the female approached him. The plaid mini skirt she wore caught his attention in several disgusting manners. He quickly flicked his eyes back to her face. “How can I assist you?”

“The application for the teaching assistant,” she blinked, tilting her head to the side before displaying the flyer in her hand. “You’re Dr. Kent, right?”

“It’s Mister Kent,” he replied, relaxing against his desk once more before crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t have a doctorate yet.”

“What do I have to do to gain the position of your T.A.?” She asked, shuffling the small stack of notebooks from arm to arm, placing the flyer between two books for safe keeping.

“Actually,” he smirked, reaching behind him at the recorder on his desk. “Listen to my first lesson of the year, and get back to me in two days if you have any questions; I’ll be in my office until seven every night.”

She was pretty, he’d have to admit. Oh come on now, they’re all adults right? If by barely nineteen years old, fresh outta high school counts as being a legal adult. The class he’d just given a lesson to was full to the brim with attractive young females. He’d have to be careful during his next lesson.

She smiled and grazed her hand against his own as she took the recorder from him and placed it in the small pocket of her backpack. “Thank you, Dr. Kent— I meant mister Kent.” She smiled and her eyes held an innocence about her.

“Where’s your next class?” He asked, pushing himself away from the desk, motioning towards the door. “My next block doesn’t begin for another half hour or so, I could accompany you; me being a new member of the school, I think it’d be a good thing to do.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she shook her head, a smile gentle on her lips. “I have a free period right now, I was going to head back to the Flower Hall to begin studying until I came across the flyer for your assistant; I figured I would apply myself and gain extra credit where I could.”

“Would you like company?” He asked, raising a brow. “I see no issue with a teacher walking across the squad with a possible new assistant, right?”

Her face brightened up at the thought. “Yes, of course. Maybe you could go over the semester lesson plans with me so I know what I’m getting into?”

“That would be my pleasure.” He moved away from the desk and walked over to the whiteboard where his coat hung over the edge and quickly slithered his way into the comforting item; he’d wipe away the remaining marker when he came back to class. Briskly, he took long strides out of the classroom with her. Her blue hair bounced around in the high ponytail that hung at that back of her head, a few stray strands framed her pointed chin. The image of himself wrapping her ponytail in his fist had his pants tighten with need momentarily until the pair strut out into the campus’s grounds.

The air was brisk and chilly. Students filled the public space as they ventured to their classes or otherwise sprawled out on the campus grounds. However, Clark didn’t allow himself to be intimidated. He was a new teacher in the school. He saw no harm in having a student accompanying him around the grounds. But that’s how it always starts, hmm? Within minutes, the pair reached the library and Clark held the door open for her.

“What’s your name again?” He asked as she strolled by him, her hair smelling of freshly ground apples. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Oh, it’s Kobalt,” she replied, briskly walking through the library before settling herself at a vacated table and setting herself down. She encouraged him to seat himself across from her; he complied. “Second year at this school. Most of my friends call me some variety of Cody, though. I don’t think I recall seeing you here before, Mr. Kent.”

“I’m the new English educator; I teach English Literature. I come from Louisville. I traveled around the world for a while before I returned to the States. In my free time, I do photography—portraits of people and landscapes.”

“I’d love to see your portfolio one day,” she smiled, shaking away her school bag before setting it in the chair beside her. She quickly started digging inside it before pulling out a notepad and the recorder. “Are you any good?”

“I’m my only judge,” he chuckled lightly, watching her closely as he leaned back in the chair, one arm over the back of it as he slouched against it. “I don’t particularly like displaying my work for others.”

She paused midway from digging in her bag to look at him. “Why’s that? Afraid of judgement?”

He shrugged, making a face. “It’s mostly for my own entertainment. I don’t like to share what’s mine. I have a different taste than most photographers.”

If she was offended by the statement, she didn’t show it as she flipped open the book in front of her. He watched her as she started skimming the page, her pen settled loosely between her front teeth. “What are you studying here?”

“I haven’t figured that out quite yet,” she shrugged. “Not really exciting but I’ve never known what I wanted to be when I grew up; there’s too many possibilities. It was mostly my foster parents who wanted me to come here to better my life, I suppose.”

“You’re still so young and innocent,” he chuckled, checking the time on his watch. “You’ve got all the time in the world. Shall we meet tomorrow night for our first round of assignment grading?”

She nodded as he stood away from the chair. For a moment, his hands gripped the back of the chair tightly before he shook his head and strolled out of the library. He still had a couple minutes longer before he had to jog across the campus to his classroom.

<Part Two>

Tags are open!

[eldritch-araneae]

Sparkpulse IV: Sleeping Beast Within.

Summery:

Bumblebee and Cheetor are chilling together on a nice quiet evening :3

It’s a nice and calm evening today. No Decepticons activities. Bumblebee and Cheetor are relaxing on a random ledge above the cafeteria, watching everyone chilling with their energon. Cheetor is currently in their spotted ray-cheetah alt form, laying with their limbs tucked underneath the body. A position which everyone lovingly calls a “loaf form”. Bumblebee is beside his feline friend, pressing onto their side and mimicking the same position.

Both Special Operations agents were talking about random stuff, from patrol and mission discussions to random shenanigans that happened to other Autobots. Life is never boring in their department, even during the night, considering a lot of agents are nocturnal cybertronians, including Bumblebee himself.

Bumblebee slightly nudges Cheetor to make them look at him. Cheetor is hard-of-hearing, and their hearing can vary from moderate to severe. They have hearing aids, but sometimes they are not much help. So everyone quickly learned that they must make sure that Cheetor sees them before talking to make lip-reading and signing easier.

“How was your patrol, by the way?” Bumblebee asks his diurnal friend.“Did you find any interesting stuff among the ruins?”

“Nope, whatever was in that building eroded long ago.” Cheetor sighs, but then grins a second later. “I still can’t believe you found that super old board game intact!” they exclaimed, lightly bumping the minibot with their nose.

Bumblebee giggles at the display of affection. He loves little things like this. He bumps Cheetor back with his forehead. “I know right! It was in such good condition that even acid rain and stuff didn’t eat it.”

At that moment, Jazz enters the room and as he sees the pair of “cats” on the ledge above, he bursts into laughter.

“I must admit, Cheetor, I never expected you to teach our youngest member the way of the cat!” the head of Special Operations Department chortles, “Bumblebee, please be honest! Can you purr already?”

Cheetor wheezes at Jazz’s question, while Bumblebee grins widely.

“Well, I tried, but apparently I can only growl.” the minibot answers with all his honesty. “It doesn’t feel like I am supposed to be a feline.”

“Well, it doesn’t stop you from being a cat anyway!” Jazz grins, gesturing at Bumblebee’s current “loaf” position. Cheetor wheezes, making a sound like a kettle from Wheeljack’s lab. That caused all three to burst into laughter. After that, they exchanged a few words before Jazz went to grab his energon cube. The minibot and the beastformer keep chilling on the ledge, observing everyone below them.

Imitation is an interesting thing indeed. It’s a natural process that allows a living being to fit better in their social environment.

It’s not like Cheetor was teaching Bumblebee feline behavior on purpose. It just happened because the minibot spent a lot of time with them and other Autobot felines after he made amends with Steeljaw.

Bumblebee adopted some cat mannerisms. This is when his beast protocols surfaced. Both Perceptor and Botanica are absolutely sure the minibot was bound to be a beastformer, but lack of resources forced him to take a vehicle-type alt form. This leaves a lot of questions, but it’s not possible to answer them for now.

Still, this explains a lot of things: his quadrupedal mode could be an attempt of his body to compensate for the lack of beast-type alt form. Or how he feels like he’s missing some parts, like additional limbs.

Bumblebee is sure he’s supposed to have wings! Every time he swings with his cables, the overwhelming nostalgia makes his spark ache and his back feels abnormally light. After a while, this feeling grew into an itch, and just swinging around the stronghold wouldn’t satisfy it anymore.

Windblade could see the pained look on his face, so she indulged him and took him skydiving. Just flying up with her already feels so much better. And the moment Windblade turns off her engines and they start falling is pure joy, making him tear up every time.

The wind rushing past him, the feeling of flying, the stimulant rush. Bumblebee forgets about all his insecurities and worries, feeling that he belongs in the sky.

This is the closest to flying he ever got, or will ever get, as sad as it sounds.

Bumblebee shakes his head. There is no reason to wallow about things he can’t have, he has to work with what he’s given. That’s why he can’t wait for Windblade to come back from her mission, so they can go skydiving again.

The anticipation quickly fades as the door opens to the cafeteria, revealing Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker going in. The minibot tenses upon seeing them. Those two are not buddies, not at all.

“Bee, are you okay? Your optics have slits.” Cheetor’s voice pulls Bumblebee’s attention to themself. Pupils turning into slits, another feature of a beastformer, that happens when one is angry, exposed to light, or in alt mode.

“I’m okay, it’s just... well him.” He hisses at Sunstreaker below, who seems like he didn’t realize that Bumblebee is in the room too. “I still don’t know what I did to him to receive such treatment.”

“He’s always been such a slaghead as long as I remember.” Cheetor sighs. “But it’s undeniable that he’s really out there to get you for no reason. Don’t worry, I will eat his shins if he tries to do anything to you!”

Bumblebee smiles at support. He really appreciates it. Though this smile fades quickly because the problem is still there and he does not know what to do with this.

Sunstreaker hates the minibot for unknown reasons and will grab any chance to harass him. Thankfully, his friends, especially Windblade, made it crystal clear that if he hurt Bumblebee, Sunstreaker won’t come out in one piece.

Still, Bumblebee feels that animosity directed at him from the yellow gladiator’s spark.

That’s just so unfair that it hurts!

Thankfully, before Bumblebee could start fully seething about this, Blaster, with his cassettes, entered the cafeteria. Cheetor greets the fellow Special Ops members, which pulls the minibot out of the spiral of negative emotions.

Suddenly, the optics of Bumblebee, Cheetor, Steeljaw and Nightstalker are locked onto each other. For a few seconds, they stared. Everyone who noticed this stopped doing what they were doing because they knew what would happen next.

Who will run first?

Who will start the game?

The next second, Nightstalker bolts from the spot they were standing into the stronghold corridors. Steeljaw jumps after them, followed by Bumblebee and Cheetor jumping from the ledge.

The chase has begun, leaving laughing bots in the cafeteria behind!

The stomping is so intense that someone might think it’s Dinobots, not three cats and Bumblebee running through corridors. He never said it out loud, but those games helped him to be more confident with his quadrupedal mode, making him even more agile.

After a few more turns of running, Steeljaw catches Nightstalker. Now it’s their turn to be chased. He turns around and runs in the opposite direction, into the medical wing.

A medbay door opens, and Ratchet almost got thrown on the floor if he didn’t see Steeljaw coming. With a yelp, he quickly jumps back into the room, and the rest of the group runs by him. He can only shake his head as he foresees someone getting hurt. But he cannot deny that cats need to get their zoomies out... though he still can’t believe they dragged Bumblebee into their games.

The three beastformers and the minibot keep running until Bumblebee finally catches Steeljaw.

“You’ll never catch me!” the minibot proclaims, as he takes an instant sharp turn and starts running at full speed.

“Hey!” Cheetor yelps, not expecting such a fast reaction from the minibot. Being the fastest quadrupedal out of Autobots, they quickly catch up with the minibot, almost being within their reach.

Bumblebee feels ‌Cheetor is getting close to him and takes another unexpected turn to avoid being caught. But surprises won’t end here.

Just ahead of him, the door opens and Optimus Prime steps into the corridor. Bumblebee sees it too late and slams into his leg at full speed. Optimus loses balance and falls onto his back. Cheetor, who was right behind Bumblebee, couldn’t stop in time and stepped all over their leader, including his face, before sliding into the wall. Steeljaw and Nightstalker, who were much farther behind, heard the commotion and slowed down, only slightly bumping into Optimus.

“What happened?! Are you okay, Optimus?” Prowl rushed from the same room to help his friend sit up.

“I am alright.” Optimus reassures the second in command and looks at the yellow culprit, who is laughing on the floor right.

“I’m sorry, Prime! I didn’t see you!” Bumblebee somehow utters the apology between laughs. He was so focused on getting away from Cheetor on his tail that he didn’t even pay attention to what was in front of him.

“I’m sorry too, for stepping on you!” Cheetor, who is giggling, apologizes next. “Looks like we got carried away.”

This earned a fit of giggles from everyone. Bumblebee’s laugh is simply contagious. No one can resist, not even serious bots like Prowl.

“This was bound to happen, I feel. Though, I wouldn’t expect Bumblebee to be the one throwing me off my feet.” Optimus chuckles. He turns to Bumblebee, who, despite the laughing fit, is cradling his left arm. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay!” Bumblebee exclaims, trying to throw his arms up, but his left arm quickly responds with pain from sharp movement. “Ow, ow, ow!” he grimaces. “Okay, maybe I’m not. Looks like I dislocated my shoulder or something.” he corrected with a giggle. Sure, it hurts, but this entire situation is too amusing to him to focus on the pain.

“Oh no!” Cheetor feels bad for their friend. “I will make sure he’ll make it to medbay!”

“Good. So what did we learn today?” Prowl asks the youngest member of Autobots.

“I learned that if I slam into Prime’s leg hard enough --” he didn’t even finish as everyone erupted into laughs again.

After everyone calmed down, Cheetor with the cassettes helped Bumblebee to get to the medbay.

When they entered Ratchet’s domain, the medic already could guess what happened. But he would never guess who fell victim to their shenanigans this time.

“Let me get this straight.” Ratchet slightly pinches the bridge of his nose.” You, Bumblebee, tripped Optimus Prime? And damaged your left arm in the process?”

The only answer he received was another row of laughter from beastformers, which served as confirmation.

“Aright. Bumblebee, you get into the berth, and your three are out.” Ratchet said. The minibot nodded to his playmates, and they went back to their game, chasing after Cheetor.

Then he walks over to the berth. Ratchet helps him to get on it with his magnetokinesis, before proceeding to inspect the injury. The medic carefully popped Bumblebee’s shoulder into the socket. The pain is lifted.

“Thanks, Ratchet.” Bumblebee says sheepishly.

“You should be more careful with their games. You are not as durable as they are, Bumblebee, and they tend to play rough.” Ratchet grumbles.

“C’mon, they never hurt me, and it’s fun!” Bumblebee protests. He doesn’t like to be reminded of his condition, though he knows this comes out of concern. “Alright, alright I will.”

Ratchet nods, satisfied with the answer. “Hold still, I will check if your arm sustained any more injuries.”

Bumblebee decided to check radio channels as he waited. Maybe he can hear if Windblade is coming back soon. After swapping multiple channels, Bumblebee stumbled upon a strange signal.

The signal is transmitted through a channel that he never saw before. As if it was turned off until someone began using it recently. And the signal itself is something he never heard Autobots or Decepticons using. It sounded like a series of beeps, short and long.

“Is something wrong?” Ratchet asks, noticing the minibot’s confused expression. Bumblebee opens the radio channel with the medic, letting him listen to that signal.

“Did you hear something like this before?” he asks the medic. He’s one of the eldest Autobots. Surely he heard something like this, right?

But Ratchet is confused as much as Bumblebee, “I do not know. We should notify the High Command about this. Who knows if Decepticreeps invented another way of secret communication… after I finish with your arm.”

The minibot nods and continues listening to the signal. He can’t help but feel it seems oddly familiar to him. After multiple passes, Bumblebee notices it has a specific pattern that looks like this:

... .... .- -.. --- .-- .-.. ..- .-. -.- . .-. --..-- / .-- . / -. . . -.. / - --- / - .- .-.. -.- .-.-.-

After he got the pattern, much to Bumblebee’s surprise, his system recognized it and began deciphering. When he saw the meaning of the message, his spark almost jumped out of his chest.

“WHAT?!”

[stubbychaos]

Rose Golden

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Paz Vizla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Your newest companion takes you somewhere safe and special after a long week of work so he can give you a thoughtful present. In the process, you learn that you’re not the biggest fan of heights.

Rated: T because Paz drops an F-bomb and there are suggestive themes regarding abuse and injuries.

Word count: 7,500 (I sincerely did not mean for this chapter to be so long and then I got carried away in editing--oops)

Warnings: There’s really none in this chapter, except for a brief mention of reader’s abusive father and a clumsy moment that leaves the reader with a bruise. This is honestly mostly playful bantering and adorable flirting between Paz and his nurse.

Author’s note will be at the end of the chapter! :)

You don’t expect to see the blue Mandalorian only eight days after he carries you home, but you can’t stop the large smile that spreads across your now healed lips upon finding him leaning against the exterior of the shoddy infirmary right after the sun has gone down. A few crimson rays of sunlight still linger and bathe the Mandalorian in a lovely glow, contrasting drastically with his dull blue armor and making it look as though he polished and shined it just recently.

He stands far taller compared to a few late night stragglers and you immediately frown when a passing Twi'lek hisses at him in a feral manner, though the Mandalorian simply ignores the rude gesture, deeming the offended creature as unworthy of his effort or time. It’s almost like watching a baby porg attempt to square up with a Wampa and you’re certain that the blue warrior is amused by the poor attempt at intimidation. 

You’re a little surprised that someone would willingly try to get underneath the massive warrior’s skin and you’re even more surprised when the Twi’lek sends a disgusting yellow-tinted wad of spit in the direction of your Mandalorian’s big boots in a disrespectful manner.

His blue helm slowly tips downwards and to the side to finally regard the much smaller Twi’lek and while he dons his sacred helmet, you find it amusing how he’s still able to convey an irritated glare through the guise of the thick metal. Without even saying a word or moving to stand taller in front of the Twi’lek, your Mandalorian somehow threatens him with a simple cock of his helmet and a massive hand moving to the handle of his smaller blaster. It’s something you find impressive and you suddenly grow jealous that he can exude such terrifying energy so easily.

As you watch the magenta-tinged creature give the Mandalorian one last sneer before stalking past him, you wonder why anyone in their right mind would find it a good idea to mess with someone with such a terrifying aura. Upon meeting him for the first time, you had been too afraid to even talk to him or even look into his shiny visor, let alone scoff at him or even think about spitting on his boots. You wonder if this is a typical reaction he gets everywhere he goes and you think it must get exhausting after having to deal with it for so long.

Does it bother him? Or has he simply resigned to a life of judgment and persecution?

You can’t even imagine displaying so much disrespect and resentment towards someone who had inflicted absolutely no harm or offense on you, though you think that the Twi’lek, nor many others in the village, are aware of the concept of manners.

His visor is dutifully scanning the streets and you beam the second it lands on you as you make your way over to him with a little skip in your step; you notice the small canvas bag he holds tightly in one hand and the way the fingers of his free hand loosely curl against his thigh. His shoulders, still tense from the silent encounter with the Twi’lek, deflate as he drops his helmet to regard you properly and you smile at the way he seems to relax at the sight of you, as if it’s something he’s been thinking about all day.

Perhaps he has, just as you have thought of him nearly every moment of every day since your last meeting with him.

No, you're definitely not infatuated with the massive warrior and everything about him.

Even though you’re obviously no threat to him, the way he greets you with a kind nod and a gentle rasp of your name has you feeling a severe depth of respect for the warrior. Selfishly, you ponder if you’re the only one outside of his tribe that he seems to tolerate, understanding that you don’t have any ulterior motives when it comes to his Creed or what he hides under that scuffed up bucket.

“I’m surprised to see you so soon, Mandalorian,” You greet him with a tilt of your own head, mimicking his own actions, “I thought it would be at least another month before I saw you again.”

His helmet cocks further to the side and you think he must be amused by your soft sentiment as his fingers flex against his big, padded thighs, “Did I not warn you that you would see me sooner than you would wish for?”

Your brows rise high on your forehead and you shake your head a little at the stubborn warrior’s smug inquiry, “And what if I wished for you sooner than the week’s end?”

"Then I would think you missed me or something."

The way he speaks is so gruff and nonchalant that you think he must be covering up something softer in his modulated voice and you can’t help but to smile at his unwillingness to show you any kind of intense emotion. His helmet lowers even more until his visor is eye level with you and you’re sure that he’s judging you through the guise of that irritating blue armor, though you simply ignore it and continue to peer up at the warrior with unrelenting sass.

Something that he seems to thoroughly revel in.

“You miss me, saviin’ika? Is that why you were dying to see me?”

“Perhaps I just missed having someone to walk me home to scare off all the bad guys,” You cross your arms over your chest as a knowing smile spreads across your lips and you shift your weight to one leg, “Don’t flatter yourself, Mandalorian. Cockiness doesn’t suit you.”

He makes a funny noise that seems to catch in his throat and you grin at him when you realize he’s trying not to laugh at your words.

“If I remember correctly--” He sounds utterly amused as he idly rolls his helmet around and you nearly cringe when you hear joints cracking in his stiff neck, “I didn’t walk you home last time--I carried you. ‘Was even nice enough to even take off your shoes and take out your braids, or were you too sleepy to remember?”

“I remember all too well.”

Your cheeks burn furiously as you’re suddenly aware of the thick braids currently tugging at your scalp and you remember how gentle and graceful his fingers had felt as he deftly loosened your plaits while you struggled to not fall asleep. Your tongue is suddenly heavy and fuzzy in your mouth when you think of how you’ve fallen asleep every night since your last encounter, longing and yearning for the pleasant, soothing touch of his rough fingertips massaging the soreness from your scalp. You try to remember the last time anyone has ever touched you without any ill intentions and you think of your mother, with such soft and tender hands that would gracefully part thick strands of hair before skillfully plaiting them.

The thought of a huge Mandalorian attempting to braid your hair nearly makes you giggle out loud, though you think he wouldn’t be too terrible at it since his fingers hadn’t struggled in the slightest against your intricate plaits.

Even though the memories of your mother combing and braiding your long locks is all but a faded memory, you’re certain that the blue Mandalorian’s touch had somehow been gentler than hers--caressing your cheeks and lips as though you were a jagged shard of glass that would somehow pierce his thick armor. Was he afraid of accidentally hurting you despite knowing you can take a hard hit to the face and bounce back like it didn’t even affect you? You knew you were quite small, especially compared to him, but he had reassured you during your last meeting that he did not believe you to be weak.

You suddenly wonder if the warrior fears you more than you had once feared him, though you can’t think of a rational reason at to why someone bred and born to not feel fear would feel it towards someone like you?

He’s still observing you intensely when you finally muster up the strength to speak softly, “I never thanked you for that--taking my braids out. My hair would have been a tangled mess in the morning if it weren’t for you.”

“You didn’t have to thank me,” His baritone drops the slightest and you find your cheeks growing even hotter at the gruffness of his modulated voice; you’re skin feels like burning coals as he continues to talk, keeping his shiny visor trained intensely on your face, “Your eyes are very expressive, saviin’ika.”

You lower your head a little, hoping that he doesn’t see how flushed your face must be as you speak softly and shakily, “Is that a compliment, Mandalorian?”

“Do you want it to be one?”

Pushing himself off the wall, he lazily closes the short distance between the two of you, stoic and calm as ever. You briefly wonder if he ever gets worried or stressed, but something about the way he carries himself so gracefully and confidently makes you think it’s not often others attempt to challenge him.

You give up on your prayers to the Maker for your blue Mandalorian to not notice the intense blush in your cheeks, realizing that he must have some sort of advanced technology in the damn helmet to detect the heat rising to the surface of your skin. 

He lowers his helmet until his metal chin is nearly poking your nose before he slightly tilts it to the side; you’re not sure how such an action could be simultaneously soft and intense, yet he somehow manages it and you suppress a shaky exhale when he reaches forward to skim the tips of his leather-clad fingers along the outer shell of your ear. The violet tucked there must be close to falling, because he plucks it away from your cartilage and deftly situates it somewhere in the thick braid that’s wrapped around the crown of your head.

Your own voice drops to a low murmur as he fixes another flower that you tucked in your braid earlier; you find it endearing that he seems so hellbent on making sure none of your vibrant flowers fall from your unusually tamed mane.

“What would you think of me if I wanted it to be a compliment?”

A noise that’s reminiscent of a grunt getting caught in his modulator has you smiling a little wider as he shakes his helmet at your harmless question, though it seems to have him utterly flustered as he speaks in a more rushed tone, “I wouldn’t think of you any differently, but if it is rare for you to be complimented, I wouldn’t mind doing it more. You… I think... fuck...”

He seems to grow slightly shy and you smile demurely at how captivating someone so large and intimidating can be so nervous with something as simple as giving a compliment; you think him to be an enigma, in more ways than one. 

“You think me to be what, Mandalorian?”

He shakes his helmet again and promptly changes the subject; you wonder if he’ll ever admit to you what he truly wanted to say--what he thought about you.

“I think you look well rested,” He observes out loud and you ponder if he’s smiling underneath that blue helmet as he swiftly deflects your gentle question, “Your injuries look a lot better as well. The bruising is no longer there and there’s barely a mark on your lip."

You grin up at him, eyes sparkling as you admire the way the moonlight reflects off of his blue armor, “Thanks to you, Mandalorian. I really did not wish for you to use that salve on me; I’ve had worse than a bruised cheek or a split lip.”

Immediately, you realize you should not have said that as his fingers curl into loose fists at his sides and you let out a tired sigh.

Why do you always manage to stick your foot in your mouth?

“How much worse?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” You murmur, avoiding the intense gaze of his shiny visor to stare at the geometric shape embedded into his cuirass instead, “It is nothing I am incapable of handling myself.”

“Do you not get tired of taking care of everyone and never having someone to take care of you?”

The tone of his voice is tender and something about the genuine curiosity of his question leaves you without any breath in your lungs, as if he’s some sort of thief. Nobody has ever asked you something of that nature and you’re certain it’s because nobody has ever cared like he seems to; you don’t find it fair for someone to feel such concern for you.

You suddenly feel undeserving of all the sentiments he’s showered you with, but you will accept them for as long as he chooses to tolerate your presence.

“I take care of myself, Mandalorian,” You inform him with a sad smile, shaking your head a little when his shoulders tense, “Always have and always will.”

“You need someone, saviin’ika,” He insists, gently grabbing your chin and urging you to look up at his visor, “Everybody needs someone.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you spot all of the scuffed up marks and divots in his deep blue helmet, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

You feel flustered and timid suddenly, realizing you’re just like him in the sense that you’re not used to expressing your own emotions and you feel impossibly small and vulnerable when he lightly squeezes your chin.

“Are you not my friend?”

A leather index finger grazing your jawline has you nearly coming undone as he speaks with that deep baritone, “I can be whatever you want me to be, saviin’ika.”

“What if I’m not sure what I want you to be?”

His leather digits lazily and dutifully skim the little valley between your chin and bottom lip, “I think you already know.”

His fingers move upwards to where your cheek had once been nearly the same shade of his dull armor, though it’s now healed into a light, barely-there yellow tint and you’re reminded of how he had taken care of you just a week ago. When you had first woke up after a few peaceful hours of sleep, you had initially thought you dreamt the previous night--him carrying you home and tending to your minor wounds with the bacta salve you had given him. Upon looking in the mirror when you first arrived at your office, you had been pleasantly surprised to find that the black and blue bruise had turned into a healthier shade of yellow and the tiny gash on your bottom lip was barely a scar. If you tried to imagine it hard enough, you swore you could still feel his index finger trailing up the apple of your cheek and to the tip of your ear; you swore you could still feel his rough, skilled fingers rubbing comfort into your sore scalp.

You had longed to feel his rough fingers on your face again and as a leather digit currently strokes the tail of your brow, you wonder if it would be hard to convince him to remove his glove again.

With an intense blush turning your cheeks a vibrant shade of pink, you ponder what else he can do with those fingers--those graceful hands.

When he doesn’t say anything else, you gesture to the canvas bag that he’s still tightly gripping in a large hand and clear your throat a little, though your voice sounds slightly coarse and wavering, “What’cha got there? Do some shopping in the marketplace?”

“Not quite,” He hesitates as he slowly lowers his helmet, his visor shifting between you and whatever is in the bag, “I want to take you somewhere, if that is alright with you. It's a safe place that nobody knows about."

You perk up, not wanting to go home and having to deal with your father’s anger yet, so you nod enthusiastically and immediately wrap your fingers into the crook of his padded elbow, as if it’s pure instinct at this point and you suppose it is. Though you’ve only ran into him three times, you think that after the night when he had carried you home and tended to your wounds, you would trust the Mandalorian to guide you anywhere on Nevarro, as long as he was there with you. Everyone always avoids the big warrior and you’re sure that if anyone attempted to cross him, he would deal with the situation swiftly and efficiently.

The Mandalorian is ever dutiful and diligent as he leads you in a different direction from your home and you can’t help but to scan your surroundings wildly as you two wander through the marketplace that's still bustling, even after the sun disappears and gives way to brilliant moonlight. 

Though most of the food vendors are selling some sort of questionable cooked meat, your eyes widen when you pass a stand that is offering all sorts of vibrant fruits and vegetables. Much to your dismay and embarrassment, your stomach growls and you can’t stop your head from turning to stare at the fresh food as the two of you continue past the vendor. It’s far more expensive than you’ve ever been able to afford, but nonetheless, you find yourself always checking the prices whenever you wander through the marketplace.

You don’t notice the blue Mandalorian observing the wistful expression painted along your features with a slight tilt of his helmet.

“About five miles west of the village, there is a small cave located at the base of the cliffs,” His deep baritone pulls you from your thoughts of fresh fruit and crisp vegetables and you curiously blink up at him, “Inside the cave, there are several hot springs that stay warm from the lava underground and flowers that light up the entire place. I want to take you there.”

“That sounds lovely and all, but five miles?” You feel bad that he’s going out of his way to do something nice for you and all you can think of is how sore your feet are from a long shift and your worn boots rubbing painfully against already formed blisters and bruises, “I couldn’t even do the half mile to my house last week.”

“Do you not see the jetpack on my back, saviin’ika? I wouldn't make you walk that distance after you've been on your feet all day; I am not that cruel.”

You immediately stop walking, your face growing pale at the mere thought of him bringing you high up off the ground and he must sense your intense fear and hesitation, because he immediately cocks his helmet to the side and promptly speaks up when your hand slips away from his elbow.

“What? You scared of flying or something?”

It sounds like he’s teasing you, a twinge of condescension apparent in his modulated voice, and it immediately makes you scowl at him because you have every right to be afraid when you’ve never had the option to travel off of Nevarro, let alone the galaxy, like he’s clearly had in the past. You forcefully remind yourself that most of the people in your little village are bounty hunters and criminals that get to travel for a living and that the feeling of being in the sky or in space was something he’d gotten acquainted with long ago.

“I’ve spent my entire life with my feet on the ground, Mandalorian,” You remind him with a harmless glare, craning your neck so you can properly look at his shiny visor underneath the pretty moonlight, “Of course I’m afraid.”

“You do not strike me as the type of woman to fear such things, not after everything you have already endured.”

You let out a petulant sigh, your cheeks puffing out in embarrassment as you narrow your eyes at the huge warrior and stubbornly cross your arms over your chest. You gaze at the silver tips of the jetpack that barely peek over the top of his broad shoulders and you can’t help but to wonder if there’s a possibility of the heavy piece of equipment malfunctioning mid-flight. Even though the rest of his armor is quite dinged up and a little rough around the edges, you think that his weapons and the jetpack look brand new, as though they’ve never been used before. His weapons and other pieces of equipment must be dear to him, you realize, just as your plants and flowers and the cuffs you wear in your braids are precious to you and you think he must take great care of them to keep them in good shape.

You’ve trusted the blue Mandalorian so far, so why do you fear the thought of him dropping you or his jetpack malfunctioning?

“Y-You’re sure it’s safe?”

“I would not let anything or anyone harm you while you’re with me, saviin’ika,” He holds out a large hand for you to take and you observe it warily for a few moments before slotting your fingers between his leather ones, “I know how my weapons and equipment work; if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

You smile softly at him and nod your understanding, “I trust you.”

“Come on,” He rasps, his voice a little softer when he carefully gives your hand a little tug and you let him guide you once again, “We need to get out of the village a little ways so I don’t draw attention with the sen’tra.”

You assume the word means ‘jetpack’ in his native tongue and you breathe out a soft laugh, “I think your armor draws plenty of attention, Mandalorian.”

He shakes his helmet, but continues to lead you to the outskirts of the noisy village, and you find that the silence shared between the two of you is a peaceful one, rather than an awkward one. Not known to be much of a talker, you’re grateful that the Mandalorian doesn’t really seem to expect a steady flow of conversation between the two of you, as he seems to do most of the talking. Though your feet ache from a long day of work, you find that the combination of his gruff voice and the firm pressure of his fingers intertwined with yours makes for a sweet distraction and you barely acknowledge the calluses and blisters covering your feet and ankles. He speaks mostly of the hot springs he’s taking you to and that the warm water will be good for sore legs; he briefly talks about his tribe when you shyly bring up traditional Mandalorian customs.

You listen and cling to every word closely, saving it for future reference so you don’t accidentally offend the blue warrior with oblivious words and naive questions.

It’s merely a twenty minute journey to the outskirts where most don’t venture to unless they have transportation, and even then, the rocky terrain and creatures that roam the barren lands are enough to keep most people inside the bleak village.

It was only another thing your father had warned you of when you had once attempted to run away when you were thirteen or fourteen; you hadn’t made it very far when he found you, completely lost and dehydrated miles and miles away from the village. Seeing the expanse of the barren lands now, you wonder what the hell you had been thinking as a teenager, thinking you could actually survive in such a harsh environment where there was no civilization for hundreds of miles; you were surprised you had lasted more than a day.

“Is something wrong?”

You blink owlishly, not even realizing the Mandalorian had been talking to you for a while now and you shake your head a little, “N-No… it’s just been a while since I’ve seen the barren lands. Not many venture far out the village without transportation and come back in one piece.”

If he notices the shakiness in your small voice, he decides not to mention it as he speaks.

“I won’t…” He lowers his helmet until the chin of his helmet is nearly touching your forehead and you shyly peer up at him through your lashes, “I won’t let anything happen to you--you know that, right?”

Even though his natural voice is distorted and disguised by his vocoder, you hear how genuine he’s being and you nod with a small, albeit nervous, smile, “I know. I trust you, Mandalorian. Just… please don’t drop me.”

The heavy-infantry warrior doesn’t say anything and merely nods as you reluctantly let go of his hand so he can wrap his arm around your waist, keeping a firm pressure without actually hurting you. Normally, the foreign contact would bother you and have you bursting at the seams, but you think that you don’t mind the way he holds you close to his warm body, like he’s trying to shield you from the horrors of this planet. You think that if you had someone to hold you like this every night for the rest of your days, you wouldn’t hold nearly as much fear in your heart that currently lingers there like a festering wound that refuses to heal properly.

Your breath catches in your throat as the Mandalorian’s clean and warm scent invades your senses and intoxicates you in the most delightful way possible; now that you’re not half asleep, you can actually appreciate the earthy scent that seeps through the cracks of his dull blue armor. Your cheeks are flushed as you wonder if he’s enjoying the close contact as much as you are--if he had hoped for this when he came up with the idea to take you to a place far from the village.

Instinctively, you stand up on your tippy toes and slip your arms around his broad shoulders, your heart racing at the thought of what’s about to happen. Your eyes barely peer over his taut shoulder and you hold your breath when he quietly informs you that he’s going to start the jetpack; you’re hasty as you squeeze your eyes shut when upon hearing the heavy piece of equipment come to life.

The Mandalorian gives your waist a comforting squeeze when you tense a little as he slowly takes off and you force yourself not to panic or open your eyes when you feel your boots slowly leave the ground. While the hand that’s gripping the canvas bag remains tightly wrapped around your waist, you feel his other hand come up to squeeze the spot between your shoulder blades. You’re not sure how high up the two of you are and you’re not sure if you want to look, so instead of gazing down at the rocky terrain that’s far below your boots, you turn your head up to peer at the shimmering stars in the night sky instead, admiring how they seem brighter and bigger the further you two make it out of the village. The moon has more of a yellowish tint to it tonight and appears larger than usual, but you think that perhaps being far away from the village and high up in the air has something to do with the lovely spectacle.

As cold air whips around the two of you, you find yourself grateful that you decided to tightly braid your hair that morning, though a few stubborn locks of hair escapes their restraints and lightly whips at your cheeks and forehead. You can’t stop yourself from shivering the higher he ascends, the atmosphere growing a little more frigid and you thank the Maker that you chose to wear longer shorts underneath your thin dress, the undergarments ending mid-thigh.

“See? Not so bad.”

You huff against his neck, still refusing to look down as you respond just loud enough for him to hear, “You wouldn’t be saying that if I threw up on you.”

His shoulders shake a little and you think he must be suppressing a bout of boisterous laughter as his arms tighten around you, though it’s not enough to hurt you or make it difficult to breathe. You wonder how often he uses the jetpack, especially if he spends most of his days dwelling deep underground, though something about the way he expertly navigates through the barren lands makes you think he’s incredibly experienced and well-trained in using the advanced equipment. He seems just as relaxed high up in the air as he does walking on land and you force yourself to keep your attention focused solely on the soft whirring noise his jetpack makes, along with how the constellations in the night sky grow more prominent the further he takes you away from the village.

You shift your arms around him a little, trying to get more comfortable against his metal chest; he must sense your discomfort because he easily hikes you up a little higher up his torso until your elbows are resting on top of his shoulders and your temple and cheek is lightly pressed against the side of his scuffed up helmet. The cold bite of the helmet makes you shiver a little harder against his chest and you try to focus only on the warmth that lingers between the cracks of his blue armor.

“Have you ever been up there?” You ponder so quietly that you figure he won’t hear it, though he turns his helmet a little to indicate that he’s listening, “With the stars?”

“It’s been a while, but yes.”

You suddenly have so many questions.

You want to ask him what it’s like to travel among the stars and if he misses it at all, or if he simply got tired of all the traveling and being away from his tribe for an extensive amount of time. Has he traveled to the Inner Rim? Or did he only stick to the Outer Rim where he knew it would be easier to find work? If you asked him to describe what the stars looked like as he flew through hyperspace at blinding speed, what would he say to you? Would he describe the constellations and scenery of different planets in great detail? Would he describe the colors of a catastrophic supernova? The shapes and vibrancy of different types of stars? Or would he merely shake his head at your childish questions?

You have all of these questions, yet one in particular has you speaking out loud against the side of his helmet.

“Was it lonely up there?”

He’s silent for a solid minute or two and you think that either he didn’t hear you, or he’s simply choosing not to display any vulnerability in front of you. It makes sense that he wouldn’t be willing to share much of his past with you and you don’t blame him for it, understanding that you two are similar in the sense that it’s difficult to speak of your feelings and traumatizing memories out loud. You wonder if his own memories haunt him when he tries to fall asleep at night and… wait. 

Does the huge Mandalorian even sleep? 

The only times you’ve interacted with him are late at night or some ungodly hour in the morning and you can’t help but to wonder when he finds time for sleep if he’s so busy providing for his beloved tribe.

“Yes,” His arm tightens around your waist and he turns his helmet in an attempt to gaze at you, though you know there’s really no way for him to see you, what with how firmly your cheek is pressed into the side of his matte dark blue helm, “I just didn’t know it at the time.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking of a lonely Mandalorian navigating through hyperspace, all alone without the comfort of another, “What made you realize how lonely it was?”

You wonder if his own cheeks are burning painfully under that metal helmet as he reluctantly answers your question and you hope he doesn’t feel pressured to bend to your every whim or inquiry as you painfully crane your neck backwards to peer into the abyss that is his shiny visor, “I didn’t know at the time--what made everything feel so lonely--but now I think I know after spending enough time with you and seeing what your father does to you, how he makes you feel."

You tilt your head a little, obviously confused, “Wh-What do you mean?”

“I see a lot of my past self in you,” He admits, fingers lightly curling against your waist, and you think he’s making fun of you, “I didn’t have anyone and I found myself missing the tribe, but I didn’t want to believe that I was lonely and homesick. I see it in your eyes, how lonely and homesick you are as well.”

“What do you mean homesick?” His helmet cocks to the side as you continue, “You think I consider that little hut a home?”

“I think you long for a home you’ve never had,” He tentatively answers after a few moments of severe contemplation, “Like I said earlier, saviin’ika, your eyes are very expressive. Even when you smile, your eyes look sad and it reminds me of how I felt when I was traveling all alone.”

You move your head so your cheek is pressed back against the side of his helmet again, not wanting him to see the despair and loneliness that apparently seem to linger in your expressive eyes, “Is that why you showed up again tonight?”

“It’s part of the reason why,” The blue warrior concedes and it surprises you a little, as he’s usually closed off and so unwilling to expose himself to you, “I wanted to make sure that you were alright--that you weren’t hurt. I don’t... I don’t like seeing your face covered in bruises.”

You smile and slowly close your eyes, an unfamiliar warmth expanding in your chest as the thought of someone caring about your well-being lights your soul ablaze. Resisting the urge to kiss the light blue patch that’s painted in the hollow of his cheek, you settle on dropping your head so it’s pressed firmly into the bunched up fabric at the base of his neck before letting out a deep sigh. 

You hope that the thickness of his armor prevents him from feeling how hard your heart is beating for him--for the selflessness of his words and actions--and you wonder if everyone else in his tribe is like him, soft and warm underneath such unyielding and cold armor. Something about the violent and ruthless energy he exudes when dealing with others makes you think he’s not as unrelenting when he’s with his people and they probably don’t expect him to be.

If anything, painful headbutts and heavy fists thrown at one another is how they probably show their love.

You feel a little lightheaded as your blue warrior starts to slowly descend and you're grateful when you eventually see the rocky ground in your peripheral vision. When the worn soles of your boots are finally pressed against solid ground, the Mandalorian makes sure to keep an arm wrapped around your middle, your legs feeling like jelly and your body swaying a little from disorientation. 

Eventually, you reluctantly pull your head away from the warmth of his neck and slowly turn to peer up at him through your lashes, blushing at how close he is to you. He’s bent over a little so his visor is eye-level with you and you’re absolutely aware of the way his fingers are splayed wide on your hip, his thumb stroking comforting circles against the flimsy fabric of your dusty gray dress.

Is he aware of what he does to you? How frantic your heart is as it races from the way he holds you tenderly to his own chest, as if he wants to take you far away from the village and build a safe home for you inside of his own heart.

The strange tension only goes away when you speak in a breathy whisper, “Thank you for not dropping me, Mandalorian.”

“I would never do such a thing,” He reassures you and clears his throat before standing up straight so he’s towering over you again; he reaches up to slowly brush some unruly baby hairs away from your forehead and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you shiver from the soft gesture, “What kind of man would I be if I killed the only nurse in the village?”

His playful tone makes you giggle a little and you happily take his hand when he kindly offers it to you again. You’re a little surprised to find huge cliffs surrounding the two of you and you realize that you were so focused on the beautiful starlight the whole journey to the cave that you didn’t even realize he had been guiding the two of you throughout a deep canyon. The Mandalorian is patient as you gaze up at the enormous cliffs with admiration, not even realizing that such beauty could exist on a planet like Nevarro.

“I’ve never been this far out of the village,” You inform him with a breathless sigh, awe and wonder laced in your quiet voice, “I never thought the barren lands could be this pretty.”

“Not everything on this planet is terrible, saviin’ika,” He urges you towards the small, jagged entrance at the base of the cliff and you hesitate upon noticing the ominous abyss that would guide you two further beneath the planet’s surface. You watch as the blue Mandalorian calmly presses a button on his yellow-tinged vambrace, causing a bright light to emanate from the rectangular piece of metal attached to the top right side of his helmet.

“So that’s what it does,” You say out loud before you can stop yourself, earning a chuckle from the large man.

“What did you think it was for?”

You shrug as you let him pull you into the entrance of the quaint grotto, “Decoration?”

The boisterous bark of a laugh he lets out warms your heart and has you grinning as you forget about the fact that he’s leading you somewhere so secluded that he could easily hurt or take advantage of you without anyone knowing about his intentions. Out of anyone you’ve ever crossed paths with in the village, you’re certain that the Mandalorian is the only one you would ever trust to lead you deep inside a cave where terrifying creatures or monsters might linger, though you fear nothing as you stay close to his side.

“I can assure you that none of my weapons, armor, or equipment is for decoration,” He informs you lightheartedly, giving your hand a firm squeeze as he calmly guides the way further into the cold grotto, “The hot springs aren’t too much further away--stay close, saviin.”

“I do not think you would let me stray far,” You chuckle as you let him walk a step in front of you, just to be safe.

He lets go of your hand as he gracefully hops down a steep step that’s a solid ten or twelve feet and you hesitate as he turns to gaze up at you.

Trying to mimic his grace, you move to hop off the jagged ledge, though the tip of your oversized boot gets caught in a deep crack and you let out a sharp squeak as you fall forward, nearly face first into the ground. Before you can properly react and attempt to steady yourself, the diligent Mandalorian is swift and efficient with his skillful hands and somehow manages to keep his grip on your hips light enough to prevent any bruising or soreness that would possibly occur from being manhandled by the blue warrior. You let out a small noise of pain when your chin collides with his cuirass and he’s quick and even a little frantic as he cups your flushed cheeks and tilts your head backwards so he can get a better look at your face, his leather thumb moving to ghost along your sore chin.

He almost sounds ashamed when he speaks up and you feel your heart plummet into the pit of your stomach.

“I hurt you.”

“You… what?” You don’t know what to say, absolutely shocked by how guilty he sounds as he continues to lightly stroke your chin, “You did no such thing, Mandalorian. My clumsiness is not your fault and you should not blame yourself for saving me from worse injuries. Please, keep going. I want to see the hot springs.”

His thumb grazes what you’re sure will be a bruise in the morning, but you think it’s the first time someone has ever unintentionally left a mark on you without any ill intent. With a sharp nod, the blue Mandalorian presses a firm hand to the small of your back and guides you deeper into the grotto, though you’re certain by the way his visor keeps tilting down towards the lower half of your face that he’s still upset over your lack of grace.

“I would not think a nurse to be clumsy.”

He doesn’t sound admonishing or judgmental, but more upset and confused than anything and you can’t help but to find his curiosity endearing, “I am a trained nurse, not a skilled warrior like you. The only thing graceful about me are my hands.”

His helmet cocks to the side, “I’ll be sure to remember that for future reference.”

Your cheeks burn viciously at the implication of his words and deciding it best to not dig yourself into a deeper hole, you grow silent and continue to follow him.

A tiny gasp escapes you when you hear the unfamiliar sounds of running water and you immediately perk up, no longer hesitant as you skip in front of the Mandalorian to venture further within the dwellings of the cold cave. Luckily, the little flashlight attached to his helmet guides your way as you follow the unfamiliar sounds trickling water and you can hear the warrior quickly shuffling to follow you, as if he’s worried you’re going to trip and fall again. Only when he gently advises you to slow down, your hasty footsteps dissolve into a slower stroll and you’re barely aware of the way you grab his hand once again, tugging him towards the sound of rushing water.

When you finally make it to the destination he had longed to show you in the first place, you freeze in awe and wonder.

“Stars,” You murmur as you gaze upon the gorgeous, glowing plants that surround a thin creek of aquamarine water, along with several little ponds filled with steaming hot water, “This is…”

As you stare at the budding flowers and crystal-like plants that glow with a whimsical shimmer and brighten up the tavern, you realize you’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful in your entire life. The flowers that miraculously grow underground are all vibrant shades of sapphire and magenta and even though you should be intrigued by the steamy ponds filled with crystal blue water, a huge, unintentional smile spreads across your lips as your fingertips lightly skim along silky azure petals.

You can’t stop yourself from plucking a healthy-looking flower and bringing it up to your nostrils with a soft smile, your eyelids slipping shut when the floral scent invades your senses completely. If you thought the huge cliffs and shimmering constellations had been beautiful, they had absolutely nothing on the vibrant flowers that softly illuminate the grotto, or the aquamarine water that has steam rising from the surface. With the stem of the flower still intertwined between your fingers, you slowly make your way towards one of the smaller hot springs in the cave and slowly sink to your knees so you can lightly skim your fingers along the surface of the delightfully warm water.

A grin tugs at your lips as you submerge your hand completely and wriggle your fingers around.

“Mesh’la.”

You immediately turn your head in his direction, inquisitive eyes scanning his dark blue helmet because it’s the first time he’s said that word in front of your and you wonder what the hell the Mandalorian must be calling you in his native language. You hope it’s nothing too insulting or demeaning, though the way he breathes it so fondly makes you think he must be complimenting you, rather than throwing judgment your way. His helmet jolts a little, as if he doesn’t realize he’s been staring at you through the safety of his visor, and he clears his throat a little before slowly sauntering to where you’re settled on the edge of the hot spring.

“You can…” He sounds a little hesitant as he approaches you and crouches down so he’s not towering over you, “You can take off your shoes and socks if you want. I brought…” A soft expression crosses your features when you realize he’s nervous as he gazes down at the canvas bag he’s clutching tightly, “I brought this for you.”

Reluctantly, he shoves the small bag in your direction and looks away as you peer inside at the contents, your eyes widening when your fingers graze thick leather, “I-I can’t accept this, Mandalorian. You have already done far too much for me and I would not be able to repay you.”

“You need new boots, saviin’ika,” He observes you as you reluctantly remove the shoes from the bag completely, fingers inspecting the quality of the leather, “Besides, these were made for another Mandalorian in the covert but were too small; they should fit you well enough.”

“I don’t have enough credits to repay you.”

"Then don't."

"Manda--"

“Maker, you really are a stubborn little thing,” The blue warrior says in a deadpan tone, reaching out so his fingertips can lightly graze your flushed cheek; immediately, you remember the way he had caressed your cheeks and lips just a week ago and you lower your head so he can’t see the longing in your eyes.

The Mandalorian lets out an exasperated sigh when you hold out the boots for him to take, though he simply shakes his helmet, “Not everything requires a price. You gave me that salve even though I couldn’t afford it,” You open your mouth to argue with him, though he’s faster and much more stubborn than you are, “If you truly wish to pay me back, then do it with your company.”

“I don’t really make for the best companionship.”

“I think your companionship would be the only kind I wished for, outside of my tribe.”

You ignore the intense warmth in your cheeks as you reluctantly place the boots on the ground next to you before reaching back into the bag to see what else he brought for you. Upon pulling out a jar that’s filled with white, rocky chunks, you perk up and quickly unscrew the lid to smell the aromatic salt; the intense eucalyptus scent nearly brings tears to your eyes as it tickles your nostrils and clears your sinuses.

“Healing salts?” You say it as a question, though it’s more of an observation, and you turn to the blue warrior with raised brows and a slight smile, “I feel like a spoiled woman.”

He grunts and turns his visor away from you, standing up to take a seat on a flat rock that’s right behind you and you can feel the armor covering his knee grazing your shoulder blade, “You care too much for others and not enough for yourself, little nurse. It would be good for you to relax for a while.”

“And what about you, Mandalorian?” You unfold your legs from underneath your body and start to unlace your worn out boots, avoiding his shiny visor as you continue, “I’m sure those weapons and that jetpack must weigh down on your body, no?”

After tugging off your boots and socks, you roll your head backwards so you can peer up at him. Despite all of his clunky weapons and equipment, he seems relaxed as he leans forward a little, padded elbows resting on top of his thighs; he cocks his helmet to the side as he observes your upside down gaze.

He flexes his fingers a little and you think it must be some sort of habit for him to constantly crack his stiff joints, “You’re asking a Mandalorian to disarm his weapons?”

You giggle a little and turn your attention back to the hot spring as you slowly submerge your feet into the soothing hot water, shuddering at how good it feels after being on your feet all day, "I would not ask you to do such a thing, silly man. I'm simply asking for you to relax with me; you deserve it just as much as I do."

He huffs out an amused noise and you turn to gaze at him over your shoulder to watch him slowly remove the cannon that's as tall as you, propping it up against the rock next to his thigh. You raise your brows when he lets out an exasperated grunt upon removing his jetpack, cursing in his native language as he rolls his shoulders.

"Told you all of that equipment must weigh down on you," He shakes his helmet at your gentle quip and lightly nudges your shoulders with his knee before removing his utility belt, "It is good for you to relax too, Mandalorian, especially if your tribe requires your protection."

"You needed this more than me."

You hum as you carefully dump a small amount of the healing salts into the hot spring, avoiding his emotionless gaze as you muster up the courage to say what’s been clawing at the back of you mind since after your initial meeting with the enigmatic warrior.

“Why do you find it so important to take care of me?”

Besides the peaceful sounds of running water and chirping crickets, it’s deathly silent and you fear that the Mandalorian will refuse to answer your question. You lower your head, shame and regret burning something fierce in your cheeks as the silence overwhelms you and convinces you that he does not care about you--that it’s all part of your imagination. You hear him shuffle around and you think he’s attaching his equipment back to his armor, probably wanting to already leave the beautiful cave.

Then a bare hand is on the center of your spine and you find yourself shivering and sighing as a massive hand idly trails up your back. His callused fingers easily push past your thick braids and find purchase on your nape; an embarrassed whimper leaves you when he firmly strokes and squeezes the tension away from your stiff muscles.

“Because, mesh’la,” His voice is close to your ear and when you turn your head in the slightest, your surprised to find his visor just inches away from your eyes, “I would not stand by and watch a harsh world beat you down so easily.”

You think him to be the best thief in the village, because his next words, followed by the press of his forehead against yours, has you bereft of any air that had previously filled your lungs.

“I would much rather see you with that pretty smile that actually meets your eyes, rather than bruises and cuts on your face. I would bring you here every night if it meant seeing that light in your eyes. even if for only a few seconds.”

The smile you grace him with is so genuine and huge that it hurts your cheeks.

Though you believe the Maker to be so cruel to bless you with such a tender companionship, surely with the intentions to eventually rip it away from your grasps, you will allow yourself to feel such happiness in that moment.

sen’tra= Jetpack

saviin’ika= Little violet

mesh’la= Beautiful

Author’s Note: First off, I know I’ve said a bajillion times and I’m never going to stop saying how sweet and supportive you all are! When I first came up with the idea for this story, I certainly had no intentions of people reading it since it’s so self-indulgent and I’m just a soft baby that loves the thought of huge, tough warriors also being soft babies lol. I’m glad we’re all fans of tender Mandalorians being soft with their partners and I’m so appreciative of all the kind comments y’all have left. I hope you all continue to enjoy my story and I promise I’ll try to update as consistently as my hectic schedule will allow me to.

I love you all <3

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester​ @auty-ren​ @theocatkov​ @oloreaa​ @blindedbyyourgrace17​ @datmando​ @dartheldur​ @miscellaneous-mando​ @karpasia​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @whatababeleia​ @maybege​

If I missed anyone, please let me know!!

[musicallisto]

hello! i’d love to request a 🍨 for pb and got if possible. i’m she/her; bi; slytherin; september virgo; infp; 4w5. i’m 5’5”, slim build and fair-skinned with dark brown hair and the same colour eyes. as for my personality, i can be quite cold and reserved when i first meet people (which doesn’t really come out online) and i have a hard time trusting anyone new, but i truly love those closest to me. i use sarcasm 90% of the time and love teasing people but my intentions have nothing to do with hurting anyone. i subconsciously use laughter as a defence mechanism and i hate it. i’m lowkey a rebel which is just a nicer word for family disappointment. i have intense mood swings which i cope with by bottling up my emotions. i’d rather listen to people’s problems than talk about my own. despite the cold exterior, i can be soft and kind, and i believe in freedom and equality. i’m ambitious and love learning but not in the way school is trying to force me to - ew. my hobbies include reading books 24/7, writing (much less of the time, but hey, i still get around to it every once in a while) and watching tv shows. i’m also a cinephile and you can trust me with a list of recommendations for your next movie night.

i do hope this is enough; thank you very much fren xx

here’s your vanilla milkshake, Réka, and thank you for your patience! I think you would be amazing with these two incredible women - sansa stark and ada shelby!

You had been Sansa’s friend for as long as you could remember.

Social differences didn’t matter in the North as much as they did in the South, especially because the Lords of Winterfell had always been close to their people.

So despite the fact that she was highborn and proudly bore the name of the Starks, and you were a tanner’s daughter from Winterfell, your friendship with Sansa had never been frowned upon.

Especially since Ned clearly saw how much fun his daughter had with you. You were the only person she could be seen getting a little muddy and mischievous with. You weren’t true troublemakers, of course, especially not since Arya was the point of reference... but you had your moments of mindless fun.

Being best friends with Sansa was effortless; you hadn’t had to warm up to her, because you had always been close confidantes to one another. She understood everything about you, even when you didn’t say a word...

... but during your teenage years, when you both came of age and other townsfolk your age started discussing boys and flings, a pang of desire started to blossom inside of you and course through your veins.

Maybe you wanted more than to simply be Sansa’s best friend, after all.

Maybe there was more to the way you found yourself staring into her deep, blue eyes like they were the only color worthy of attention...

When Sansa announces that she is to leave for King’s Landing and marry Joffrey, you get into a pretty heated argument, the first you’ve had in more than ten years of friendship.

Part of you is reasonably upset that she kept a news so important a secret from you for so long; and another part of you is mortified and furious at the idea of her going to the capital and becoming Queen to the arm of a petty little brute as snotty as Joffrey Baratheon...

... when she could have stayed at Winterfell and, perhaps, one day, have made you Lady right alongside her.

You’d been bottling up your feelings for her for quite a while and didn’t know how to deal with them - terrified of rejection, but also of not acting out on them and lose her to another... and when she told you she would be leaving, it was like both nightmares coming true at once. There was no use anymore in snarky side remarks, and you exploded from sheer frustration and fright.

Obviously, she couldn’t possibly comprehend why you were so mad about her not telling you all about her family business - which was more about political affairs, anyway -, so you couldn’t sort out your disagreement,

and gave each other the cold shoulder for a few days.

Until the last night before her departure for the South with her father, where you snuck into the castle courtyard to say your farewells and bid her well - fearing you would not be able to if front of everyone on the following morning

And when she came down to meet you with a frown on her heavenly face, the words escaped your mouth before you could control them; they had been a long time coming, but at least they were out and you would not have to carry your secret to the tomb.

And she wanted to get mad at you for getting on your high horse and blowing up when you could have just as easily told her the truth...

... but she’s so elated that her feelings are reciprocated

... that even if she’s leaving for a place of appearances and to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, at least she knows there exists someone outside of her family who sincerely loves her and will always care for her

... and that there exists a world in which you love her and she loves you and that she just happens to live in this world

... that she just kissed you underneath the moonlight, desperate to get a taste of the last element of realness and familiarity that she’d keep to memory.

Of course, going to the capital and to Court had always been her biggest dream, but when she held you in her arms, she wasn’t so sure anymore it was worth leaving you behind.

“So you’re still going?”

“I have to.”

“I wish I could go with you.”

“I’ll be back. I promise I’ll do what it takes to return to the North and find you again.”

A Stark always followed through with their promises; that much you knew.

Ada and you are passionate about the same things, namely freedom and equality, which makes it easy for you two to hit it off.

You meet at a communist rally, where you’re instantly impressed by and drawn to her strong voice and stronger convictions. She doesn’t talk excessively, but isn’t unafraid to make her voice heard and opinions known.

From your very first meeting, you get a glimpse of how utterly devoted and dedicated to the cause Ada is, and that is even before recognizing her as a Shelby. Though you should have figured earlier - there aren’t many people, especially not women in Birmingham, who would talk so freely and pit herself against the men.

It makes her all the more attractive to you.

Still, you don’t develop a relationship of any kind until long after you met - but she’s a regular at communist rallies and actions for the party, as are you. You end up crossing paths quite often.

She’s an incredible orator, and is brazen enough not to be intimidated by the stares of every passerby when she must deliver passionate speeches about the progressive radicality of your movement. You realize you make an excellent pair - you’re a skilled writer who can move even the most disbelieving of men with your words, and she can blow life into them like no other.

So you write her speeches and she delivers your ideas to the whole world when you’re too insecure to do it.

And you progressively fall more and more in love with her, with how confident and blunt and daring she is.

She loves how well-read you are, too, and she tells you often the world would be a better place if it were filled with women like you, bright and selfless, not these greedy, idiot men who tear each other apart in pointless wars...

You relate so much to the experience of being perceived as a rebel simply for being a family outcast, it’s another bonding point between the two of you.

You don’t necessarily display a lot of affection when you’re together - partly because your relationship would cause quite the scandal if it came to light, but mostly because it’s just not your type.

You both can be quite swept up by the passion, especially when you're still on the adrenaline high from a chase from the cops or one of those Shelby businesses, which will often culminate in breathless, frenzied kisses in an alleyway...

... but the rest of the time, you’re more about sarcastic comments and a little bit of “tough love”.

Though you are fascinated by the relatively modern invention that is cinema in Birmingham, and on the rare occasion you have time and peace of mind enough to go to the “moving pictures”, Ada will, of course, come with...

... and it will most likely include sneaking into the projectionist’s room, a friend of yours from the party, and making out in there for most of the duration of the film.

800 follower sleepover CLOSED!

[putas-in-suffering]

Take Me To The Moon

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Latina!OC (Original Character)

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, lap dancing, grinding on EZ’s massive body, vague descriptions of sex, the real warning here is that EZ is getting a lap dance with a full on erection and he can’t do anything about it (the horror! 🤭)

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: We’re taking a peek into the private room that Luna led EZ to. Did sparks fly? Or did EZ just end up getting exactly what he paid for?

A/N: Our sucias asked and we delivered! We got front row seats to the show Luna decided to put on for EZ. It’s got us jealous and ready to secure some clear heels for that stage because we want a man like EZ in our private room all day 😜! Annnnnnd, your putas have been feeling this Stripper-verse we created so guess who also gets more time to shine? Angel and his dancer girlfriend. We’ve got another part written and all we gotta say is: it goes down in the champagne room 🥂😏. We’ll be posting that within the next week. If you aren’t caught up on the newest gentlemen’s club of Santo Padre 🍒🍒, read here to see what all the fuss is about. And any music by The Weeknd has become the soundtrack for these fellas and their ladies, so indulge. Alright, you guys know the drill...enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

A/N part dos: Angel’s dancer girlfriend is reader insert, but to make it easier we’ve nicknamed her Candy/Dulce for story flow purposes.

Luna perked up at the sight of EZ in the booth, silently thanking Candy for the introduction. He was all thick muscle and soft eyes. A deadly combination in her opinion. It’d make her job easier. And it’d been a long time since she’d danced for someone she found remotely attractive.

She’d been ready to make her way to the politician’s corner, the section riddled with old white men with dirty pockets and even dirtier hands. They were a rowdy bunch, but they always gave cash away, sometimes five hundred dollars at a time. Santo Padre’s civil servants were hard at work spending taxpayers’ money at The Cherry Stem Gentlemen’s Club.

Candy had been dating Angel for a while now, a fact well-known amongst the girls. They all vied for the bikers’ attention, yearning to be in the spot Candy had carved out for herself. It was a nice setup and Luna had thought about asking her to introduce her to some of the guys, but she didn’t want to step on any toes. The women could be territorial and she wasn’t about to make an enemy out of Candy.

Thankfully, Candy had reached out and practically laid EZ in her palm. Luna had a sneaking suspicion it was more than a business proposition, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Candy was a veteran and knew her way around the club, both with its customers and the dancers. Luna would take all the help she could get, especially since the other girls seemed dead-set on excluding her.

“Hi, EZ,” She’d greeted upon seeing him, her faux lashes batting seductively down at him.

He straightened, a cute smile on his face as he shifted in his seat. “Hi.”

She moved to sit in his lap, grateful that Angel and Candy were no longer watching. She admitted to herself that she was slightly nervous, wanting to make a good impression, both for profit and personal interests.

EZ opened his arms, letting her settle onto his firm thigh as he held her in place. He kept a hold of his beer in his other hand, taking a long pull when she crossed her legs.

The short sheer skirt she wore rode up, offering up more flesh for his viewing pleasure. Her breasts were pushed up and together in the slinky black bra she wore. The lingerie was decorated with fine flakes of silver crystals, giving off the illusion of a starry night sky. She preferred to wear black at the club. In an array of vibrant colors and neons, she stood out in the sleek ensembles she chose.

His eyes tried hard to stay on her face, but they predictably went to her cleavage every time her lungs expanded with a breath. She let her arm curve around his shoulders and scratch at the nape of his neck with her long nude nails.

“Are you comfortable?” She asked, her glossed lips pulling into a warm smile.

He nodded, his touch radiating throughout her body as he began running a finger up and down her hip. “Yeah, you?”

Luna couldn’t help it…she giggled. She was amused by his concern, enamored with the careful way he held her. It was a far cry from most of the riffraff that made its way into the club.

“Very.” She replied, brushing her nails over the back of his head. She was pleased to feel him shudder in response, his body telling a story entirely on its own.

“So,” She started, her free hand playing with the lapel of his kutte. “How long have you been a bad boy?”

He chuckled, licking his lips before he spoke. The action pulled an instant response from her body, her thighs clenching against each other as blood rushed to her lower half.

“Is that what I am?”

“You seem like it. Member of an MC. Doesn’t seem so innocent to me.” She explained as she fingered the patches on his leather, outlining the embroidered words with her nail.

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“What’d you do before the MC then?” She challenged, arching a brow as she waited for him to answer. She had a feeling there was more to his story...more she wanted to know.

He repeated the action that had made her pussy come to life, licking his full lips. He shook his head and laughed, understanding he’d been caught.

“Inmate at Stockton State Prison.”

Luna couldn’t control the way her body responded. It was if he’d said the most romantic thing possible. Her nipples hardened while her hips shifted, her ass seeking out some form of friction. She was practically preening for him, a primal urge suddenly wild within her.

EZ noticed too. Because his eyes caught every movement, every subtle action that said she was more than interested in his rap sheet.

“You like that?” He asked, voice low and dangerously close. His breath fanned across her skin, making her nipples pebble further against the fabric of her bra.

She nodded, biting her lip.

“I’ve got a taste for bad boys.” She replied, just as low and just as close.

His fingers tangled in the ends of her long hair, his eyes watching her face closely as he took in her words. The moment was electric with tension and unexplored chemistry. It was a taste of what could be.

A moan permeated the air, both of them realizing simultaneously that the sound hadn’t come from either of their lips. They turned, seeing Angel and Candy in a heated embrace. Hands and lips clashed as the couple ignored everyone around them.

“Are they always like this?” Luna asked, eyes taking in the blatant display of affection.

“Yeah...in a few seconds they’ll probably start fucking.” EZ quipped.

She laughed at his joke, though the seriousness was apparent in his eyes. She decided to grasp at the moment, confident that he’d follow her wherever she led him.

“You wanna go somewhere else?” She whispered into his ear, letting her lips touch his flesh.

He turned and stared at her for a long moment. Long enough that she doubted her ability to persuade him. But soon enough he was nodding.

“Yeah.”

She smiled, standing with his help and leading him out of the section. They maneuvered through the winding path of tables and chairs to the dark purple hallway of the private rooms. There were black doors on each side, some open, some closed to indicate occupancy. She led him to the very last door on the right, seeing it was vacant.

He followed her closely, letting her pull him into the darkened room and shutting the door behind him. Music already echoed through the speakers. The haunting melody a perfect choice for the performance she had in mind.

She took his hand once again and directed him to the black leather couch, indicating she wanted him to sit. He did so, legs spreading wide as she stood between them.

“Are you nervous?” She asked, noticing the way he smoothed his hands over his denim-clad thighs.

“Nah...are you?” He joked, smiling when she laughed.

“Nope.” She said with a shake of her head.

She started off slow, her hands traveling over her body and syncing with the sensual beat of the song. She kept her eyes on him, though she found the task difficult. He was looking at her so intensely that she felt herself wanting to blush and cower. It was a rarity for her to be nervous with the patrons. He was an exception...in many ways.

She turned around and bent her upper body forward, dragging her skirt down to fully reveal the black thong she wore underneath. The skirt cleared her thighs and fell to the floor, her foot kicking the material away. She looked over her shoulder, flipping her hair so that she could see him. His gaze was centered on her ass, until he noticed her staring. She took the opportunity to bend nearly in half at the waist, almost revealing all of what the thin scrap of material barely concealed.

She took note of the way his hips shifted, the muscle in his jaw tightening. It turned her on to know the kind of effect she had on him. It was exhilarating...a rush like nothing she’d ever remembered feeling before.

Luna played with the waistband of her panties as she straightened, teasingly pulling them down to reveal bare flesh before she pulled them back up again. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her, feel it searing her skin with every touch of her hands and swivel of her hips. She reached for the clasp of her bra as she lowered her ass into his lap and brushed against his crotch, wanting to feel a hardness push back. He remained still though, unmoving as she circled her hips in an erotic rhythm.

She released the claps of her bra and let the material fall down her arms as she pressed into his chest, feeling the deep measured breaths against her back. She looked up at him, catching his eye as she drew her bra away and discarded it on the floor. She cupped her breasts and threw her head back. And for once she envisioned a customer’s hands on her...EZ’s hands on her.

“You okay?” She asked, biting her lip as she stood and turned to face him.

“Yeah.” He replied simply, clearly caught up in the moment.

Her hands traveled the same path they often did when she danced. They brushed her breasts, then trailed over her stomach and hips to graze against her clothed sex. This time though, she felt a burst of pleasure with every tantalizing action, let the desire reflecting in EZ’s eyes lead her.

She knelt down and made herself level with his lap, her eyes focused solely on his. Her nails ran up the length of his thighs, skimming the muscle and tracing the metal teeth of his zipper. His hips jerked slightly, caught off guard by the intimate touch.

“What’s EZ short for?” She asked, wanting to engage him in more than just the grinding of two bodies.

He licked his lips, watching her with hooded eyes as he widened his legs further.

“Ezekiel.” He supplied, humoring her sudden curiosity.

“I like it.”

She ran her hands up his chest, still propped between his knees in an explicit display of sexual innuendo. She moved her mouth to hover over his crotch, her lips barely touching the denim.

“How long were you locked up for, Ezekiel?”

“Eight years.”

“That’s a long time to go without a woman’s touch.” She mused, pressing her bare breasts into his lap.

“It is.”

“We’ve gotta get you reacquainted.” Luna teased, using his own tactic against him as she licked her lips.

He smirked, following the motion of her tongue. “I already have.”

She pouted, standing once again.

“You trying to make me jealous, baby?” She teased, reaching for his shoulders to steady herself as she straddled him. She felt dwarfed by his size, his sturdy form practically buzzing with power beneath her. The veins in his forearms called to her as she rubbed her body along his, feeling the gathering wetness pooling in her panties.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Maybe.” She said with a playful lilt, leaning in close to the amused smirk he wore. She pressed her naked chest against his clothed one, taking satisfaction in the way he bit his lip.

“Don’t be. I’m here.” He said, the conviction in his tone demanding she believe him.

She did.

Her hips brushed against the zipper of his jeans again and this time she felt a distinct firmness that hadn’t been there before. She noticed the way he clenched his fists at his sides, as if he was using every ounce of strength he possessed to not reach out and touch her. She respected his restraint, but she didn’t necessarily want it.

“You wanna touch me, don’t you baby?” She purred into his ear, hands running up the length of his arms and down to the tightened fists at his sides.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to.” He replied, voice now heavy with lust.

“You aren’t.” She pulled back to look him in the eye, letting him take in all of her as she sat astride him. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you to.” She confessed, continuing to rock her hips along his.

EZ’s eyes shifted, her words triggering him in the most delicious way. He caught on to her hints, realizing she was doing more than performing for a customer. She was letting him experience her in a way no other client had before.

He seized on the moment.

“How do you want me to touch you? Show me.” He commanded roughly, using his chin to gesture to her body.

Luna smiled, excitement running through her veins as she lifted a hand to her neck and gripped it softly, showing him just what she wanted.

“Your hand here.”

“You like that?” He questioned, eyes zeroed in on the way her hand held her throat. It was as if he got lost in the picture she painted, already envisioning his calloused hands around her delicate neck, squeezing.

“Mmmm…” She hummed in response, closing her eyes as she applied pressure.

“What else?”

She released her throat and trailed her hands down and over her breasts, cupping them together as she encouraged her nipples into peaks.

“Just like that?” He asked, noticing the way she tugged at the sensitive flesh.

“Yes…” She moaned, feeling his hips rising for the first time to meet hers.

“Keep going.”

“Then I want you to touch me...” She trailed off, skimming her palms down her stomach, aiming for the juncture between her thighs. She stopped at the last minute, meeting his stare as she switched course. “Here.” She finished, reaching around and grabbing her ass.

The vein in his neck throbbed as she continued to provoke him. He swallowed when she played with the waistband of her panties again, pushing the fabric down just far enough that he could see bare skin along her pubic bone. She let the elastic snap back into place, her hands now cupping her pussy.

“This is where I want you to touch me the most.” She revealed, locking her dark eyes with his.

He bit his lip and she swore she could hear a growl reverberate through his chest.

“When?” He asked, testing the boundaries.

Instead of answering, she raised herself onto her knees and maneuvered herself so that she was now on all fours, his body beneath her. She angled her ass, arching her back and lowering her upper body onto the couch at his right. He was entranced by her motions, eyes transfixed on her ass as she wiggled her hips, causing the flesh to bounce.

“Whenever you want.” She purred, letting her ankles cross in the air. Her six-inch heels dangled from her feet, a show of hyper femininity and a weapon of seduction. The glossy black material reflected the purple and pink lights of the room, the thick heel a heavy weight on her feet.

Luna moved onto her back, draping herself across EZ’s lap. He looked down at her, her head propped on one thigh while the rest of her body was spread out across the other. She stretched like a feline as she nuzzled into his warmth, angling her breasts up and wordlessly pleading with him to look. And he did.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She asked, hips still swaying in time to the sultry tune that wafted through the air.

He nodded, signaling for her to continue.

“You’re pretty cute.”

He snickered.

“Thanks.” He said with a chuckle and he had the decency to look somewhat bashful. “You aren’t too bad yourself.”

She laughed, her hands running the length of her body as she soaked up the unadulterated yearning he rained down on her. She felt desired, beyond sexy at the way he visually devoured her. Not just lusted after, but wanted, in every way. It felt intoxicating. He made her want to break all the rules, some of which she already had. And there wasn’t a single ounce of regret to be found.

“I should hope so. Unless it’s not me that’s got you hard.” She teased, pushing against the prominent bulge in his jeans.

“It’s definitely you.”

“Good to know.” She quipped, easing herself up. She straddled him once again, addicted to the way he made her feel in that position. She could smell his cologne, the scent now stuck to her skin like errant specks of glitter. She hoped it never washed off.

“Time’s up?” He guessed, meeting her gaze.

She nodded, not wanting the moment to end, but she knew if she didn’t they’d end up crossing a line. One she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to cross. At least not so soon.

It was one thing to admit she wanted him. It was another to act on it. And while she’d let him know he could have her at any time, he didn’t seem ready to cash in on her words just yet either. They both seemed content to let the sexual tension of their private moment simmer, giving it a chance to boil over into carnal passion.

He reached into his back pocket, but she held a hand out to stop him.

“It’s on the house. Think of it as a gift for your newfound freedom.”

“I can’t let you do that.” He said with a shake of his head, pulling his wallet out anyway.

“It’s done.”

He pulled a crisp hundred from a wad of cash and handed it over to her, forcing it into her hand.

“Tip.”

She shook her head, shocked by the gesture. “It’s too much.”

“It’s done.” He stated, throwing her own words back at her. He wore a proud smile, pleased with himself as he stuffed his wallet back in his pocket.

“You’re not such a bad boy after all.” She teased with a wink as she got up and found her skirt and bra.

He stood, standing back while she slipped the clothing back on. She reached behind her to clasp the bra back in place, but he beat her to it, his touch gentle as he fastened it.

“Thanks.” She said over her shoulder, catching his eye.

“No problem.”

“Do you-,” She started, gesturing to his crotch. “You need a minute?”

He laughed, looking down as he shook his head. “Nah, I just gotta think about Gilly in a dress and I’m good.”

Luna joined in on the laughter as she reached for his hand and began to lead him out of the room. They took the same path they’d taken earlier to reach the section of outlaw bikers. Another dancer was on stage, her music upbeat and pulsing as she swung around the pole effortlessly. It was a captivating sight. The men seated around the stage took it in with both awe-struck faces and hard dicks.

They made it to the thin veil of curtains and Luna was just about to pull the fabric back when EZ tugged at her hand, halting her. She turned towards him, hand still clutched in his.

“Thanks, Luna,” He started, licking his lips once again and sealing her date with her vibrator that night. “For the dance.”

“You’re welcome, Ezekiel.” She beamed, shying under his praise.

“Is that your real name?” He asked, letting his own curiosity show.

“My middle name. Yessenia...that’s my real name.” She admitted, feeling his thumb begin to brush over the back of her hand.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Do you always make strippers blush?” She challenged with a grin, narrowing her eyes up at him playfully.

“Only the pretty ones.” He retorted with a wink.

“Charmer.”

“I’ve gotta be if I wanna see you again.”

Luna watched his face carefully, seeing nothing but truth as he flashed a boyish grin down at her. He towered over her, even with the heels. He surrounded her in every way possible and she was surprised by how much she liked that.

“Is that what you want?” She dared to ask.

“Yeah, it is.” He answered, a relaxed grin making its way onto his bearded lips. “And you? Is that what you want?” He repeated to her, stepping a fraction of an inch closer.

She waited a long moment before responding, enjoying watching him squirm as he anticipated her reply. She reached up and brushed a finger over his lips, feeling his breath hit her skin.

“Yeah, EZ...come and see me again.”

Sucia Tag List:

@marvelmaree

@visintaes

@otomefromtheheart

@aquarius-smr-writing

@glimmerglittergirl

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@brattyfics

@starrynite7114

@losolvidad0s

[flightfoot]

The Role of an Alpha

AO3 @adrichatnovember2020

Adrien hid in his room, breathing deeply.

Earlier that day he’d presented as an Alpha.

His father, of course, was thrilled. 

“So you are an Alpha.”

That was the first thing he’d said to Adrien as he walked through the door, having been sent home early by the school nurse. 

Adrien took in his father’s scent. 

Strong.

Musky.

Very clearly Alpha.

Not that he needed to smell him to know that. Gabriel exuded Alphaness in everything he did, from the way he brushed over other’s concerns to the way he asserted his will, expected everyone to submit to his needs and wishes.

“Alphas are in charge, as nature intends,” he’d told Adrien before, tightly gripping his shoulder. “Omegas simply exist to follow orders, betas little better.”

Looking into Adrien’s eyes, he’d asked him softly, “You’re going to be an Alpha, aren’t you?”

Adrien had wanted to respond. To tell him that he had no idea, it wasn’t exactly something he was in control of. And deeper down, that if THIS was what it meant to be an Alpha - if being an Alpha just meant stepping over everyone else - then he’d rather be anything else.

Ultimately, he’d said nothing.

But now that he’d presented?

The part of him that’d balked then, that’d wanted to protest, to chew him out, was too strong to ignore.

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” Adrien snapped bitterly. “That I’m on top. That I’m above everyone else. That I don’t somehow reflect badly on you.”

His father’s eyes widened. “Mind your tongue!” he snarled, a small growl emerging. “I am still your father. You may be an Alpha, but you’re still just a pup. And I am YOUR Alpha.”

“Is that all being an Alpha means to you? Yelling at everyone else, punishing them if they step out of line - out of YOUR line?!”

Gabriel’s eyes hardened. He stepped down the stairs, each footfall a prognostication of doom. 

He grabbed Adrien’s wrist. “I do not think you will need these anymore,” he’d told Adrien, throwing away the suppression pills the nurse had given him to help him ride through his first rut. “You will get through it like an Alpha should, not debasing yourself with suppressants,” he said in disgust.

And that was how Adrien had ended up here, desperately trying to ignore his body’s anguished cries.

He grit his teeth. Most of the Alphas in class had Omega friends to calm their hormones, to keep them comfortable, and vice versa. Chloe had Sabrina for instance, while Alya had Marinette.

He hadn’t been around for Alya’s presentation, sadly. But Marinette had recounted it with great gusto during one of the few opportunities they had to hang out.

Chloe’d been tearing into Marinette on the first day of the new school year, trying to get her to move seats. She’d just presented as an Alpha a couple months ago and had been thoroughly enjoying the added intimidation boost it provided her.

She hadn’t expected some random new girl to stand up to her.

Nor for that girl to suddenly start leaking a musky scent.

Since then Alya’d taken a lead in protecting the class - though protecting HERSELF? Not so much. 

Not that she was the only one. Marinette had been inspired by Alya’s display, had gotten some confidence herself, to the point she ran for - and won! - the class rep position, with Alya as.  her deputy. 

Her subsequent reveal as an omega had come as a shock. Everyone had assumed she’d be an Alpha, or a Beta at least.

But Omega?

She’d seemed nervous, scared even, when she first presented.

Afraid that her friends would treat her differently.

But well… she was still Marinette. Her being an Omega didn’t change that.

She was still their friend, still their class rep. 

Omegas had grown more common in leadership positions - something Paris became acutely aware of when Ladybug herself presented.

It had been assumed by most of Paris’s population that the suits masked the two heroes’ scent glands. That Ladybug was almost certainly an Alpha, POSSIBLY a Beta, and that Chat Noir was probably an Omega, possibly a Beta.

Until Ladybug had arrived at a fight, feverish and smelling sweet.

They’d still defeated the akuma, but Chat Noir had had to do more heavy lifting than normal - there was a reason Omegas were often given reduced workloads during their heats, especially anything requiring physical exertion.

Whispers emerged throughout Paris. ‘Can Ladybug really protect us if she’s vulnerable to an Omega’s heats?’ ‘An Omega, even one with superpowers, shouldn’t expect others to follow their orders. It isn’t the way of things.’ and worst of all ‘Ladybug should give her Miraculous to an Alpha. They’ll make better use of it than she ever has.’

People began looking to Chat Noir more, addressing him as the leader instead of Ladybug, who they’d deferred to before. Something that clearly made both Ladybug and Chat Noir uncomfortable, with Ladybug looking downcast and Chat Noir being more snappish with the press.

Until finally they’d given a news conference, Ladybug and Chat Noir taking the stage, addressing the preconceptions and discrimination Ladybug had been put through by the city because of her being an Omega. 

Not that she was the only one.

Many other prominent Omegas emerged to tell their story. Even some less prominent, more ordinary citizens, pushing back against the idea that being an Omega made someone somehow less worthy of respect, less worth listening to.

The Ladyblog featured all of this in great detail of course, with follow-up interviews with everyone who’d spoken. As Alya and Marinette excitedly told the class afterwards, they’d helped arrange it, researching activists in their area as well as asking for people to message the Ladyblog with their thoughts and experiences being an Omega.

A lot of the grumbling had died down after that - at least where the rest of Paris could hear it.

Adrien grimaced. Unfortunately, Father had been one of the ones who HADN’T been cowed.

Not that he’d expected him to be, with his… traditional attitude towards Alpha’s, Beta’s, and Omega’s roles in society.

Fumbling around, Adrien reached out from underneath the covers, grabbing the remote that opened up his window. Much too high to climb out of unfortunately (he’d tried), but at least it let in the cool air from outside. Right now, that sounded good.

Ahhh.

He was right, this did feel good. And something about the air smelled exceptional today...

As if in a trance, he left his blanket fort, coming closer to the window.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath.

It smelled so NICE, so sweet, almost like-

His eyes blew open.

Just in time to get a face-full of superhero.

“OOPH!”

Adrien blinked. 

Green, slitted cat eyes blinked back.

And drooped as Chat Noir turned into a pile of mush in his arms, purring up a storm as he cuddled close.

Careful not to disturb him, Adrien leaned in near his neck, getting a good whiff of his scent glands.

Omega.

Very, very clearly Omega.

He examined Chat Noir more closely; his flushed cheeks, his twitching tail, his glazed eyes.

“Chat Noir?” he asked carefully. “Are you alright?”

He kicked himself. Of COURSE he wasn’t alright, he was in the midst of his first heat - a pretty intense one too, from the looks of things.

“Mmmmphhhhhrrrrrrrr?” Chat Noir asked.

Well. ‘Asked’ may have been overselling it a bit. ‘Mewled with a questioning tone’ more like.

“Do you know where you are?” He clarified.

Chat Noir just purred and nuzzled his neck, getting a good whiff of his own scent glands.

WOW he was out of it.

“I’m gonna move you, alright?” he told Chat Noir softly, picking him up as gently as he could.

He’d seen how Alya’d helped Marinette through her own heats, though none of them had been as bad as this. 

First, a nest.

At least that was easy - good thing, since he had zero notice to prepare one.

Lowering Chat Noir into the mess of blankets he’d just vacated (Chat giving a confused-sounding “mew?” as he did so), he got up to find what else he needed.

A couple minutes later he was back at Chat Noir’s side, coaxing him to drink sips of some nice, cold water, as well as bringing him the few stuffed animals he’d managed to save from his father’s purges.

As Chat Noir sipped the water (Adrien holding onto the cup; right now Chat didn’t seem confident in his ability to hold it steady), the red gradually started fading a little. 

Adrien put his hand on Chat Noir’s forehead. He definitely felt cooler than he had when he first landed on him.

“Chat Noir?” he tried again, making sure to keep his voice low and soft. “Do you know where you are?”

Chat Noir blinked up at him, still looking a little hazy, but like he was at least attempting to focus. “You’re… that model boy… right?” he asked hesitantly. His voice sounded a little slurred, but at least he was speaking words.

Inwardly Adrien winced. Of course that’d be what he was known for; how ELSE would Chat Noir have heard of him? It’s not like he knew either of the Parisian heroes very well. They’d run across each other during akuma attacks of course, especially with how often their class ended up targeted in one way or another, but they didn’t exactly have time to chat.

Outwardly he made sure to not change his expression. “Yeah, that’s me. You crashed into my house a few minutes ago.”

Chat Noir vaguely looked around. Adrien suspected he’d just become aware of his surroundings.

A tinge of panic colored Chat’s expression. “I- I’m sorry,” he burst out, shrinking in on himself. “I- I didn’t mean to- if you want me to go, I’ll go.”

Adrien shook his head, kneeling down so his head was level with Chat’s. “If you want to leave, then you can. I don’t want you to stay any longer than you’re comfortable with.”

Chat’s eyes widened, then relaxed a bit, looking downcast. He began shuffling around with the blankets, attempting to stand.

Omega unhappy needs reassurance needs support

Adrien sucked in a breath. That surge of protectiveness, of the need to defend, to make sure Chat Noir was okay - he’d never felt anything quite like it before.

This… this was what being an Alpha meant to him. Not trampling over others, exerting will and dominance over them.

But being there for them if they needed it, helping to make sure every member of the pack knew how much they were wanted, needed, cared for. To lift them up, not tear them down.

Sometimes that might mean giving them space.

Sometimes that might mean staying put, letting them know you’ll be by their side.

“But just because I’m okay with you leaving, doesn’t mean I want you to,” he told Chat Noir, trying to possess every ounce of sincerity he could muster, to reach out and let him know on a fundamental level how much he cared for him. “I don’t want to keep you here or coerce you to stay. I don’t want to force you into anything, or feel like you need to do anything to please me or because you feel like you need to pay me back for something. I just want you to do what you feel most comfortable, what you feel safest doing.

Chat Noir, what do you want?” 

Chat Noir looked momentarily stunned.

He swallowed thickly. “I- I want to stay here for a little bit. If that’s okay with you!” he added hastily. “I don’t think I can get back home right now and… and I don’t really want to.” His ears turned backwards, flattening against his head.

“Are you okay with me touching you?” Adrien asked.

Chat Noir nodded.

Adrien sat down on the bed. Chat Noir leaned into him, Adrien stroking his head, like his mom used to do with him when he was little.

His mom couldn’t scratch him behind his cat ears though, on account of not having them.

...most of the time.

(He’d always had a thing about cats.)

They stayed there for the next several hours, Adrien checking up on Chat Noir regularly, making sure he was okay with the close proximity, asking whether he’d like food or drink, just… taking care of him, while making it as clear as he possibly could that Chat could ask for things, that Adrien WANTED him to ask for things, and that he wouldn’t force his will on Chat Noir. 

At last, the heat dissipated to the point that Chat Noir could get up. Could walk around.

Chat Noir looked out the window longingly, then back at Adrien. 

Adrien smiled at him. “It’s time for you to go, I’m guessing?” 

Chat Noir hesitated, then gave a short, sharp nod.

“Then go.”

Chat turned around to leave, but hesitated, looking back at him, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“If you ever need to come by again, for cuddles or support or just… just because you want to? Please, please come,” Adrien told Chat. “Just check to make sure my father isn’t around first, alright?”

Chat Noir laughed, pole-vaulting into the night.

[space-romantic]

The Night of a Hundred Poems

I survived the #HypMicRarepairWeek2020! I would like to thank all the people who accompanied me on this strange journey. It was quite an experience writing about rarepairs, but I survived it!

Genre: Romance, Drama. Fandom: Hypnosis Microphone. Word count: 4314 Prompt: Day 7 - Free day/AU Summary: Izanami is the most important tayu in Yoshiwara. Gentaro is the Imperial Court's favorite playwright. Without knowing why, every time Gentaro visits Izanami, he writes a poem. And tonight, to make a wish, he will write his hundredth poem... on Izanami's skin.

[Courtesan AU - Edo Period] 

Please send your love in form on Kudos and Comments on AO3 (・ω・) /

--

The symmetry drawn in his mind was slowly translating into delicate flowers arranged even more delicately in a black lacquered vessel. Anyone observing them would say that this was going to be a great work, even more so coming from its author.

Hifumi's hands never worked quickly on an ikebana, for he liked to take his time to see how best to arrange all types of flowers on the display. When he arranged them, he breathed slowly and rhythmically, as if in a trance, feeling their scent fill the air. When his hands touched the dew on the flowers, he felt at ease, for he too considered himself a flower. He had born with the destiny of a rose, he knew that he would slowly shed his leaves in Yoshiwara, the capital of pleasure. Just as the beauty of the rose would one day end, so would his, for such was the life of the tayu: to live intensely and be stripped by others. And that's how Izanami, the most important tayu in Yoshiwara, would end up.

The thoughts and silence of the night were torn apart by the sound of the inkstick against the stone, a rhythm that he had learned long ago. Looking over his shoulder, he could see how Gentaro was focused on making enough ink, mixing everything in the right amounts. Brushes of all sizes were arranged in front of him. A small smile appeared on his face as he found himself accompanied by him. Even in the silence, he felt attached to Gentaro.

Their meeting had not been by chance, or at least that was what he wanted to believe. Master Yumeno Gentaro was the trendy playwright. His kabuki plays were the delight of all Edo. Anyone who knew about culture would know his name. The bad tongues said he came from a noble family fallen from grace. Others said he was an illegitimate son of the Fujiwara clan. But the playwright, who had somehow been favored by the Imperial Court, made everyone forget the details of his private life. Unlike him, Gentaro could go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted. And what Gentaro wanted was to spend his time with him, saying soft words in Hifumi’s ear, who was his muse. When Izanami played his long ballads in shamisen for him, he noticed how his eyes glowed with pleasure as he looked at him. Art brought them together, but even more so, love was what kept them together. Hifumi wanted to believe that the red thread of destiny was entwined between his fingers, letting him know that they were meant to be.

As he walked through Yoshiwara with his entourage, the slow, sensuous figure-8s he formed with his feet as he walked made everyone sigh. Sometimes his feet hurt from the weight of the countless layers of silk. Oh, how he wished to get out of his high wooden sandals and run down the street without looking back! No one would care if Hifumi escaped because he did not exist. There was only the beautiful tayu, Izanami.

But not Gentaro. Only when they met in public did he call him Izanami, since image was everything. In the solitude offered by four walls, Gentaro sometimes made him believe that his heart had been transformed into a butterfly, for when he heard him say Hifumi he could feel it fluttering. His real name had become a sacred prayer for both.

His hand rested gracefully on an azalea waiting to be placed in the vessel, but his mind was somewhere else. He still remembered the author's first visit, when he asked his name. In that moment, Hifumi's redlined eyes narrowed in a classic kitsune expression as he covered his mouth with his sleeve. From his lips came only a “people call me Izanami”. However, that was not the answer the playwright wanted.

“How exquisite! Just like the goddess, with a poetic and delicate countenance like her. However, what I asked, my dear, is what your name is, not what the masses call you.”

For a few seconds, he didn't know what to say. No one had dared to treat the rest of his clients as "the common people", especially since Hifumi chose them all conscientiously. No one had ever wondered what was underneath the silk that covered him. But he would not be easily caught. The mystery could only be maintained by himself, playing his cards as he had been taught, without revealing anything, always making the other one want more.

“If my lord wants to know my name, he will have to visit me again. I shall be grateful for your company and patronage.”

The memory was interrupted by his name, when Gentaro called him. As he emerged from his reverie, he turned to see what he wanted, lowering his head and awaiting his command.

"Hifumi, didn't you hear me when I called you?" Gentaro's head tilted to the left, wondering how he hadn't heard if he had been at it for a while.

“My most sincere apologies, Gentaro-sama. Perhaps I was just distracted and that’s why I did not answer your call.”

Gentaro's chuckle could not be stopped by his hand. It was not often that Hifumi was so distracted, and in some ways, he thought it was lovely.

“It’s all right. Don't worry. It is just that I need help with a poem I’m finishing. Would you please look in your tansu chest for all those poems I have given you? I know you kept them, but I need to check something first.”

Swiftly, Hifumi rose to attend to his request, approaching the drawers and taking out several manuscripts he had made. A full drawer was waiting for him and he started to take them out one by one to the desk, where Gentaro kept looking at a blank paper, not paying attention to how the rolls were accumulating around him.

Once Hifumi had carried the last one, Gentaro took his wrist and brought Hifumi's hand to his mouth, to kiss the tips of his fingers gently. Hifumi trembled with pleasure, thinking of the intimacy of his touch. His fingertips, his fingernails, his long fingers, everything belonged to him with every kiss he deposited.

“You haven't looked at any of the poems I gave you, have you? They must still remain unread.”

Hifumi shook his head. He still remembered how Gentaro, one spring night, had started to write the poems when he came to see him. The summer was already over, and the scrolls were piling up on the chest of drawers. He had been tempted many times to open them and read them one by one, but he knew it would break his confidence.

His refusal was rewarded with a shower of kisses on his wrists and hands, a devotion that Hifumi was not accustomed to, because he was the one who used to deliver it. He closed his eyes enjoying the touch, feeling the warmth of Gentaro's lips on his own skin.

Once Gentaro gave him one last kiss, he smiled at him and ended the moment. Hifumi, for his part, kissed his cheek in gratitude and returned to his own place to continue working on his ikebana.

The azalea settled comfortably in the place Hifumi had arranged for it and now it was the turn of a few small bouquets of forget-me-not.

"Don't forget me," thought the tayu as images popped into his head. The times he had danced with his fan for Gentaro. The way his body would adjust to Gentaro’s body every time they lay on his bed. The way Gentaro enjoyed seeing him practicing his calligraphy. The way Gentaro’s eyes shone like the spring dew. The languid way his eyes opened at dawn. So many things, so important to Hifumi... And he just wished he wasn't forgotten by him.

In the pleasure district, rumors were spreading fast. And his heavy heart cried every time he thought that days ago, he heard that Gentaro was preparing to marry. He had been told that he had already asked for even a shimmering white kimono, with the most beautiful fabrics that could be found. He had even requested permission from the Imperial Court for the ceremony. Just when Hifumi thought he would have to share the playwright, his lower lip, covered with lipstick, looked even redder after he had bitten into it. At this point, jealousy was his worst enemy.

Certainly, Gentaro was already of marriageable age. He had never asked him, but he knew it was obvious that he was getting marriage offers. Being one of the Emperor's favorites, everyone must have considered him a good match. The only thing missing was a partner who could reciprocate, a sort of political move. Whoever he took for a lifetime partner would probably be very happy. And what about him? The only way out of Yoshiwara was to buy his freedom or die.

It was at those moments when his mind began to travel far away, suffering at the thought that his destiny would be to be Izanami forever. Izanami, the castle destroyer. Izanami, the one who could make the clans fight with one look if he wanted to. Izanami, the one who only by lifting his kimono slightly and showing an ankle could make men and women burst into lust.

And what did lust matter when, at the end of the day, he was faced with loneliness?

A kiss on the nape brought him back to reality. There was no need to turn around as he knew who it was. The warmth of Gentaro’s lips on him drove away all those negative feelings that clouded his mind and heart.

Gentaro's hands traveled deftly to his abdomen, touching the bulging obi tied to the front. With a whisper, he asked, “Can I take this off?”

Hifumi's yes was barely audible. Behind his closed eyes, there was only the ecstasy of knowing he was so loved. Even if there was another person to take his place in society, the way Gentaro's hands rested on him made him think that it was impossible for the playwright to love anyone but him. Only in a moment like this, they could be who they really were.

Meanwhile, his heavy obi was falling apart in the expert hands of Gentaro, who was placing feather-like kisses on his neck and shoulders. The silk of his heavy garment was lifted layer by layer, until it left him naked on his torso.

Hifumi never fully cared for his nakedness. It would be hypocritical to think so if the life he had was based on that: on provoking the desire of others and seducing them until they could no longer pay. But today everything was different. Gentaro's look on his skin made him feel shy, for his emerald eyes could penetrate his flesh and see what was inside his soul. He felt the blush creep up his cheeks and he couldn’t help himself. Ah! How strange it felt to be the seduced person for once.

Would Gentaro be able to look at another person the way he looked at him? He implored to all the gods he would not. He didn't want to share those emeralds with anyone else.

“The best poem of all is about to end, Hifumi. I would write it for you. Could you please lie down on the futon?”

He slid gently into the white sheets and stretched his delicate body over them. His passivity today surprised him, but it must have been the sadness that had taken hold of him. Bending his arms, he formed a rectangle where he placed his head. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Gentaro’s silhouette picking out one of his brushes and touch its bristles to feel its softness. He smiled half-heartedly, trying to cheer himself up when he knew this poem would be his.

“Hmm, and I thought that lyrics were your thing, Gentaro-sama. Do you wish to paint an ukiyo-e image?” Hifumi laughed openly, partially hiding his face in his arms. His eyes were dreamy, but his voice took on a seductive tone as the night progressed. “If you keep looking at me like that, your work will be transformed into a shunga image, darling.”

Gentaro laughed beside him as he approached, ink and brush in hand.

“Ah, how obscene you can be sometimes, Hifumi. I couldn't share your naked body with anyone else, even if it was only an image.”

Once at his side, Gentaro arranged Hifumi's clothing on his lower back until it bulged to form a pillow for himself and sat astride him. “If I knew how to portray, I assure you I would make only bijin-ga images of you, dressed in your beautiful kimonos and surrounded by flowers and birds.”

A kiss on his hair made Hifumi feel complete. He closed his eyes, giving his body and soul to the art of Gentaro. He felt tickled and shuddered the moment the icy ink touched his back. The playwright chuckled again but said nothing. Hifumi's back arched at his touch, and he sensed Gentaro looking at him with a sultry smile adorning his face. The brush moved slowly, as if the artist wanted to breathe life into the characters on his beloved's back.

With each character finished, a kiss landed on the nape and shoulders. If he could have done it, Gentaro would have slipped much lower, but he couldn’t. Not now, when the message was so important. The rewards could wait, for the night was still young.

“My dearest, have you by any chance heard of the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai?”

"Well, of course," replied Hifumi. “Personally, I haven't played it, but I know it's very popular. It's that game where people get together and tell stories of suspense or strange events in a room, then they go to another room where they blow out a candle and look in the mirror, right?”

Gentaro listened carefully to Hifumi's voice as he continued to draw strokes on his back.

"Yes, that's correct. You're supposed to open a door to the Afterlife after telling the hundredth story and blowing out the last candle. Maybe someone or something terrible is waiting for you in the dark, but what happens next?"

Gentaro left the brush away from Hifumi's body to go to his ear and whisper “what happens next is a mystery.” Gently, he breathed out behind Hifumi's ear, who shuddered.

"Hey, Gentaro-sama! That's enough! You're scaring me."

Gentaro's laughter was loud given the position he was in and Hifumi hid his face in his arms. From above, Gentaro couldn’t see his expression, but he knew that the courtesan had been embarrassed because his ears were red. As a way of apologizing, he kissed his hair again, which received only a grunt in response.

Silence fell between the two of them and Gentaro picked up his brush again, not yet bringing it close to Hifumi's body. Before Hifumi could turn his head to look over his shoulder, the playwright interrupted him.

"What would you say...?" Gentaro stopped before he could talk any further and swallowed. He took a deep breath before continuing. "What would you say if I told you I had been playing my own version of the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai? There is something I wish. You don’t know how much I wish it... and I have been working hard to make it happen."

Hifumi didn't know what to say. Somehow, his intuition told him it had to do with the rumors in town. He opted for the elegant silence, not judging or approving of what Gentaro had said. In his mind, he wondered what kind of desire it was and why the playwright decided to do it.

The brush was part of his skin again for the second time tonight but Hifumi's mind was not present. He would have done anything to help Gentaro fulfill his wish. It would have been wonderful if he could have trusted him and told him what it was. But he dared not ask, for he feared the answer. He didn't want tonight to end, because he didn't know what would happen to him tomorrow. The promises in Yoshiwara do not exist. And depending on what Gentaro would say, he didn’t want to think of the tears of ink that would adorn his back after the night ended.

The movement stopped and he felt the brush slowly being lifted out of his body. Gentaro looked at his work for a while and smiled, for he knew it was perfect. Hifumi couldn’t see anything, but he imagined the satisfaction he must feel. It was the same feeling he had felt the moment Gentaro's mouth touched his skin. He was blowing gently on top of the ink, as if to make it dry faster. It tickled him and he moved as he laughed. His laughter nearly drove Gentaro away from his body. To steady himself, he placed his hands on Hifumi's waist.

The laughter stopped immediately. Only the distant footsteps of those night creatures who still believed in the pleasure offered in Yoshiwara could be heard. Gentaro's fingers pressed against Hifumi's skin, who was left only to his touch. Once again, he could feel his lips on top of him, but this time they marked his shoulders with kisses and small bites.

Gentaro stood up, and as soon as Hifumi felt a change in weight, he missed him. When his visits began long time ago, he had no way of knowing he would be so intimate with him. No one else would be allowed to sit on top of him and write a poem on his back. Only someone he trusted could do that. And Gentaro was the chosen one, only he could see him like that: so open, so vulnerable... so real.

"Come, let's go see it."

Hifumi firmly took the hand offered by Gentaro and stood up. They walked hand in hand in front of the mirror. Facing him, Hifumi's paleness was reflected, and by his side, the emerald eyes sparkled with joy as he looked at his creation. Hifumi smiled at the image of both.

It was almost like a sign. Gentaro took Hifumi by the shoulders, turning him gently, and placing his back in front of the mirror. He reached over to the tansu chest to find another smaller mirror to let Hifumi look into what he had transformed.

Gentaro reached out with the small mirror, but before he could hand it over to Hifumi, he regretted it and put his hand back. His eyes fell to the ground, unable to find the words he wanted to say to him. But what also rested on him was Hifumi's hand, silently caressing his cheek, encouraging him to continue. He no longer had any doubt that the poem had to do with the rumors he had heard, and if Gentaro had paid more attention to the sounds, he would have been able to hear Hifumi's heart crying with anguish, for not knowing what would happen to him.

"If you could have one wish granted, what would it be?"

Gentaro's eyes rose as he asked him this. His face reflected confidence, for he knew there was only one answer. Instead, it was Hifumi who hesitated. He wanted to tell him about the red thread that bound them together and that he hoped he could always be with him, but he didn’t want to compromise him. What good would it do to tell him what he really thought? He thought again about the damn rumors. A political union would probably help Gentaro quite a bit in his career. The courtesan, more than anyone, understood this. Sadly, he shook his head back and forth.

"I do not understand your question, Gentaro-sama."

Gentaro's willing hand traveled swiftly to his cheek, caressing each other, encouraging the other. There was no need to trying to listen to his heart, for his eyes told him everything. He could see the sadness and loneliness of Hifumi, and his own face reflected in them. For a moment, Gentaro wanted to be unaware of his sadness, as he couldn’t understand the reason for it. Nevertheless, he only thought that he wanted to see himself reflected in his eyes a thousand times more, but he couldn’t until the answer came from his lips.

"Hifumi, there is something I must tell you.”

Hifumi's breathing stopped, holding himself to face the blow, unwilling to listen because of fear. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping it would be quick and painless. There was no time to close his heart and put on a shield, he needed to face everything with dignity.

"I have been playing my own version of the Hyakumonogatari Kaidankai. However, I have finished everything. It is said that if you tell a hundred horror stories, you can open a portal to the Afterlife. But this is not a horror story," Gentaro's temple settled on Hifumi's, lowering his voice to be heard by him alone. "It is not of terror, but of love. Of the love I feel for you. This is my hundredth poem to you. You are the poem; you are the art and passion that moves me. And what I want to open is a door to your heart."

Hifumi's body released all the tension that had built up during the night. His legs were shaking. The knot that had formed in his throat once Gentaro said they must speak was also released.

All night long, Hifumi had moved around in the darkness, thinking of the times he had lived with and for Gentaro. Thinking of how he wanted to live with him from now on, in the same light. And the path just had opened up before him. His eyes could no longer see anything in front of him, only the candlelight reflected through his tears, making everything blurry. It was Gentaro's voice that reached to his mind clearly, even if his sobs threatened to drown out his words.

Gentaro's soft hand caressed his hair, as he continued to speak to him amidst the soft kisses on his cheeks, trying to drink the pearls of joy that streamed from his eyes.

"If I could wish for anything, it is your freedom. The freedom for you to leave Yoshiwara and to love me freely as I love you. So that you can be mine. And the Imperial Court accepts this, they will welcome you with open arms at my side. My wish is for you to be Hifumi and not Izanami anymore.”

He finally found the mirror in front of him and Gentaro's hand guided his chin to look straight ahead. The mirror in front of him reflected the other one even bigger, and on his back, the hundredth love poem.

Unknown to all Within my heart Stained with passion’s hues A thousand times over I could hide no longer!

A hundred poems, Hifumi thought. They meant at least a hundred nights and a hundred days together. Gentaro had never written a poem outside this room. It meant that the red thread existed between them. The clear crystals in his eyes kept falling away, but his smile was even brighter.

Excellent, magnificent, exquisite. The most beautiful poem they could both create. There would be nothing to fear anymore. There was no longer any doubt.

Without thinking much of it, his arms were thrown around the playwright, who staggered backward at the surprise attack used by the courtesan. Still, he was warmly received, his arms holding him firmly.

"You don't know how much I love you, Gen-chan."

They were both smiling when their eyes met. Hifumi's eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly, moving closer to Gentaro and tickling his cheek. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, their lips met tenderly, first with reverence and then with passion. Hifumi's hand rose to caress the back of Gentaro's neck with soft fingers, drawing him in. It was a tender but slow kiss, for they knew it was no longer necessary to leave each other ever again. They would have all the time in the world to keep it up, loving one another.

Gentaro parted gently. His hands traveled to Hifumi's waist, where he took his clothing and began to pull it up to his body, dressing him placidly in front of the mirror. Hifumi smiled at his image, thinking that from now on he would be Gentaro’s princess.

And before his eyes, he appeared wearing the purest white kimono they could find. It would symbolize a new life, the true Hifumi. Best of all is that white could be dyed. He could no longer wait to dye himself with all the colors offered by Gentaro.

As he took a deep breath, only one question remained.

"Gen-chan, if I have the hundredth poem, what about the other ninety-nine?"

Meanwhile, Gentaro had approached his unfinished ikebana. His light hand touched the petals of the flowers until it landed on the forget-me-not that wasn’t on the vessel. Taking it firmly, he reached out to Hifumi, arranging the stem behind his ear, causing his hair to glow beautifully in the candlelight. When he had finished putting the flower in his hair, his kind voice told him all that he needed to know.

"I can read them to you as the nights go by. Would you like to hear one every day? Before they run out, you will see I will have written more of them."

Wearing his best smile, Hifumi immediately nodded. There would be only ninety-nine nights left to make another wish. That meant ninety-nine nights to think of a new wish because, for now, he couldn't wish for anything else but his fiancé at his side.

And the night was still young.

--

Notes:

1) Ikebana: Japanese art of flower arrangement. 2) Tayu: Oiran were historically high-ranking courtesans in Japan. The highest rank of courtesan was the tayū (太夫), which had sufficient prestige to refuse clients. Since they were expensive, they were the courtesans of daimyo. An oiran's outfit would consist of a number of layered silk kimono, made of heavily-decorated silk, and belted with an obi tied at the front. When outside, they used 20 cm tall paulownia wood clogs, so they have to walk making a figure-8 with their feet. Oiran didn't used socks. Please, don't confuse them with geisha. 3) Kabuki: Japanese dance-drama. It is characterized by its stylized drama and the use of elaborate make-up by the actors. Kabuki was a common form of entertainment in Yoshiwara, the registered red-light district in Edo. 4) Shamisen: A three-stringed traditional Japanese musical instrument. 5) Tansu: The traditional mobile storage cabinetry indigenous to Japan. In this one, I admit I took an artistic license. Tansu were not used as stationary furniture, and in the Edo period were highly related to the profession of the person (merchants, apothecaries, etc) 6) Ukiyo-e: Japanese art technique consisting of woodblock prints and paintings. 7) Shunga: Japanese term for erotic art. Most shunga are a type of ukiyo-e, usually executed in woodblock print format. While rare, there are extant erotic painted handscrolls which predate ukiyo-e. 8) Bijin-ga: Generic term for pictures of beautiful women in Japanese art, especially in woodblock printing of the ukiyo-e genre. 9) A note on Gentaro's poem: This poem is actually a Waka poem that belongs to Fujiwara no Takanobu. He is not known for being a poet (as his half-brother Fujiwara no Teika is even more popular) but for being a skilled portrait painter.

[jacksonswangsauce]

Way too damn needy

Taeil x Y/N

You and your boyfriend Taeil have been sexting all day, you’re at the office and he’s recording in the studio.

Both of you had to get up at the crack of dawn for work, meaning you didn’t get to see each other before leaving, which left you incredibly needy and horny for each other.

It’s 1 in the afternoon and Taeil can hardly wait to see you, he’s been blowing up your phone for the past hour.

1:05 pm

Taeil: Y/N❤️ Are you busy?

Taeil: Been thinking about you😍😝

1:07pm

Taeil: I’m really horny tbh😳💦

1:08pm

Taeil: Baaaabe😩 when do you get off work?

1:09pm

Taeil: I need to touch you🥵 fuuuck I’m so hard🍆

1:10pm

Taeil: Can’t stop thinking bout you😏🍑

1:11pm

Taeil: Send me some picks princess💦

1:15pm

Taeil: I’m ready😘😛🍆

(He sends a picture holding his very erect dick)

1:17pm

Taeil: Hurry! Get in the bathroom😩💦💦💦

You finally check your phone and immediately you can feel yourself getting wet as you scroll through his needy texts.

"Looks like I have to go to the bathroom..." You smirk to yourself and text him back.

Y/N: Be ready in 5😏😛

You get up and practically run to the office bathroom and lock yourself in a stall.

You immediately unbutton your blouse and unclip your lace bra to send Taeil a picture.

You await his response and play around with different angles.

Taeil: Hotty!!!😍🔥 What do you want me to do?

Instead of texting it out, you decide to FaceTime him.

He answers in less than a second.

"Y/N! Fuck I want to touch those juicy breasts!" He whines, scrunching his face in frustration.

You chuckle and start pulling up your skirt, noticing his slight grunting in the background.

"Are you touching yourself?" You ask, gently sliding your fingers against your dripping folds.

He nods and flips the camera, displaying his strong hands slowly pumping his veiny dick.

"Baby..uhh." He sighs. "Show me what you’re doing.." He says, breathlessly.

You smirk and flip your camera as you pump your fingers in and out of your heat.

"Taeil..I-I want you to grip yourself harder. Spread that pre cum all over your dick and fuck your hand!" You keep your voice low and sensual, breathing heavily as you imagine that Taeil is touching you right now.

"O-okay..! Ahhh-sss..." He grunts and you can hear his rapid movements echo through the phone.

You take a break from pumping and massage your breasts.

"Ooo Y/N I’m close! Quick..uhhh rub your clit, fast!" He moans, his pumping and grinding getting sloppier.

"Oh-Taeil! Uhhhhh.." You do as he says and feel a knot forming in your stomach.

"I’m gonna cum Y/N..Ohh fuck cum with me baby!" He tries to hold his orgasm as you near your climax.

"Tae-ohhh I’m there..sss uhhhhh!" You erupt in a satisfying orgasm just as you hear Taeil’s cum squirt out.

"F-fuck! Oh God..ohhhh!" He lets out a loud moan and almost drops his phone.

You open your eyes to see the bathroom floor covered in his white cum. You laugh and pull up your panties.

"Wow Taeil..you made a mess!" You exclaim.

He flips the camera to his face and winks at you. "This isn’t over Y/N..I’m coming to pick you up now." He explains.

"But Taeil..I’m really busy-" You begin but he cuts you off.

"Y/N You work so hard everyday! Just let me come get you early for once." He insists, running a hand through his hair.

You can’t argue with him at all, especially the way he’s looking at you with those sexy, hooded eyes...

"Okay..you talked me into it!" You laugh and shyly turn away.

He chuckles and admires your cuteness through the screen.

"Just be ready Y/N...because there’ll be no mercy tonight!" He smirks, before hanging up.

You feel your face flush pink. You love this confident and horny side of Taeil, it rarely comes out but when it does...it’s always a crazy good time.

Taeil picks you up at the front of the building and you excitedly hop in his car.

He grins and pulls you into a heated kiss.

"Y/N..mmff..God-I missed you.." He mumbles between your lips, licking the corner of your mouth and sucking on your bottom lip.

You groan and grip his shirt in your hands, pulling him closer.

He chuckles as you rub your chest against his and runs a hand through your hair.

"Mmm.." He gives you one last kiss before pulling away. "Let’s get home!" He grins and pulls into the flowing city traffic.

Along the way to his house, you and Taeil get handsy in the car.

He reaches under your skirt and puts pressure on your soaking core while you massage his buldge.

"Y/N..." He bucks his hips against your hand, wanting more friction.

You smirk and rub him harder. "You like that?" You ask, slyly.

He nods and pushes your panties aside, placing his fingers inside you.

"Taeil.." You moan and close your eyes, loving the feel of his warm hands and slim fingers.

"God I just wanna fuck you right now!" Taeil growls and takes your hand, sliding them down his underwear.

He guides you in how to touch him. "Yes..grip me like that...harder!" He moans and bites his lip.

Before you know it, he’s pulling into the driveway.

At his house...

You and Taeil stumble through the door, kicking off your shoes while heavily making out.

He reaches under your shirt and gropes your breasts as you lead him up the stairs.

You rip off his shirt and run your hands over his golden shoulders.

"Y/N..get on the bed." He commands, watching as you lay down on his neatly made mattress.

"So sexy..." He growls, pulling down your skirt and soaked, lace panties.

You help him out by taking off your top and bra.

He spreads your legs and places wet kisses along your groin and down to your heat.

After licking up and down your folds he takes off his pants and underwear.

You gasp at his size, which looks way bigger than on camera.

He notices your stare and smirks. "Like what you see?"

"Fuck Taeil! I want you inside of me.." You whine.

Taeil climbs on top of you and places kisses along your jawline.

"Okay Y/N..I’ll pump my thick cock in and out of your little cunt but you call me daddy tonight!" He growls, biting and sucking on your neck.

"Ohhh daddy!" You moan and dig your nails into his back.

"Don’t worry baby..I’m gonna fuck you so hard!" He says, kissing your lips and grinding his shaft against you.

You whimper when he pinches your clit and rubs you hard. "Daddy-uhhh!"

“That's right Y/N...just like that.” He rumbles, looking at you darkly while pumping his fingers into you.

You grip the bedsheets and arch your back. “Ohh daddy..faster..please!” You moan, feeling that familiar knot forming in your stomach.

He chuckles and kisses your parted mouth. “Don’t cum until I shove my cock inside you..okay?” He says, taking his fingers out.

You nod your head and bite your lip.

“Y/N..” He chuckles and kisses your plump lips. "You ready?" He asks, positioning himself between your legs and teasing you with the tip of his dick.

"Yes! Fuck- ohhhh.." Your eyes roll back as his length fills you up.

Taeil smirks darkly at your neediness but deep down, he’s just as needy.

"Uhhh Y/N!" He groans, beginning to move his dick in and out, ever so slowly, concentrating on the feeling of your walls around him.

You moan loudly and arch your back, clenching around him.

"That’s right baby..take me in." He moans, moving a little faster and leaning down to kiss your chest.

His lips graze between the valley between your breasts and then his tongue makes it’s way to your left nipple.

He sucks and licks on your bud, drawing out the sexiest sounds from your lips.

Then his thrusting suddenly quickens and you cry out. "Daddy! Uhhh-"

His neediness gets the best of him as he quickly thrusts into you.

"Y/N..Oh..Y/N-sss Oh fuck!" He grunts, grabbing your hands and placing them over your head.

His soft side coming out a little, as he likes to hold your hands whenever you guys have sex.

The bed begins to creak underneath you as his thrusts become harder and faster.

"Daddy..Ohhh-oh daddy! Harder..fuck!" You whine and grip his hands tighter, bucking your hips in time to his pumps.

"Ohh shit-I’m gonna cum!" He cries, scrunching his face.

"Me too daddy!" You moan.

"Y/N..oh Y/N...ohhhh I’m cuming! I’m cuming!" He whimpers into the crook of your neck and you feel him twitching inside you. His sweaty body sticking to your own, your chests rubbing against each other.

His pumping is becoming sloppy and his breathing hiccups.

"Ahhhh sss- AHHH!" He moans loudly as he pumps his load into you and erupts in orgasm.

"Ohhhhhh Taeil!" You scream, reaching your climax as well. Your whole body shakes in pleasure as you release around him.

He helps you milk it out, his own body shaking from the intense pleasure.

"Mmm baby.." He kisses your lips and massages your breast with his right hand.

"My sexy Y/N." He smiles, his hair dripping in sweat but he looks absolutely gorgeous.

You smile at him with hooded eyes, still coming down from your high.

He rolls off of you and grabs your hand. "That was amazing!" He grins, staring up at the ceiling.

You smile at him and shiver from the loss of his body heat.

"Let’s get under the covers." He says, crawling up the bed and under the blanket.

"Come here.." He smiles, holding his arms out for you.

"Y/N..."

You grin as he places the blankets over you and wraps his arms around your body.

"Hmm?" You hum as he rests his chin on the top of your head.

"I have something to ask you.." He says, and you turn around to face him.

"Well I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now and Y/N..I love you...more than anything in this whole world!" He kisses the tip of your nose and you giggle.

"Y/N..I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make me so happy and I honestly can’t imagine m life without you in it. So Y/N..will you marry me?" He asks, reaching to his night stand and pulling out a huge diamond ring.

He holds it infront of you and you place your hand over your mouth in awe.

"Taeil..!" You feel your eyes sting with tears.

"So is it a yes baby?" He asks, giggling at your reaction.

You nod, unable to speak, afraid the rivers would start pouring from your eyes.

He takes your hand and slides the gorgeous ring on your finger. It sparkles in the dim light of the moon that’s shining through the window.

"Taeil..I love you!" You whisper, looking into his eyes.

"I know princess." He smiles and kisses your forehead.

"Now..you ready for round two? After some dinner of course!" He exclaims, grabbing his phone.

You giggle. "Yeah I’m so hungry!"

"What should we order?" He asks, scrolling for places to get food from.

"Jajangmyeong!" You exclaim.

"Ooo that sounds good right now!" Taeil agrees and orders two bowls for delivery with Korean sweet and sour pork.

You climb out of bed and grab a pair of pink lingerie from one of Taeil’s drawers, slipping them on and putting your long hair into a messy bun.

He grabs a new pair of Versace boxers and watches as you make your way out of the room. His dick already becoming stiff at the sight of you.

"Damn Y/N! You’re so hot!" He exclaims, chasing after you and dropping his boxers on the floor.

You guys barley make it down the stairs because he’s already ripping your thong off in seconds.

"Taeil!" You laugh as he struggles to get between your legs as you sit on the last stair step.

He’s about to start pounding into you when the doorbell rings.

"Shit!" He groans, scrambling to get up and find something to wear.

You laugh as he runs around the house looking for any piece of clothing.

He ends up grabbing a coat from the closer and throws it on.

He looks back at you, smiling cheekily, before answering the door.

You put your lingerie back on and join him after the coast is clear.

He looks at you and laughs, holding the delicious bags of food.

"Taeil you’re crazy!" You chuckle and take the bags from his hands.

"I’ll set up while you get into something comfortable." You smile and bring the food into the living room, setting it up on the coffee table and flipping through shows to watch.

Taeil comes back wearing a fluffy robe and slippers.

"Mmm this looks great!" He says, sitting down next to you.

"But not as delicious as you..." He smirks, licking his lips and looking you up and down.

"Taeil! Just eat your damn food!" You exclaim, shoving some noodles in your mouth.

He laughs and grabs is bowl, taking a huge bite.

And these were the kind of nights in store for you and Taeil. The future ahead was bright and exciting. A new chapter had begun in both of your lives and it promised many more wonderful things to come...not just orgasms. Although that was the cherry on top to the ice cream sundae of your relationship😉