#hot fucking damn and before i knew it shit was 3k

[cui-nisi]

Cut and Dry (Leon x Reader)

•Notes•

Pairing: RE4 Leon x Reader

Summary: Leon comes home from a long and tiresome mission with a nasty wound that he tries to hide from you… keyword is try.

Genre: Established relationship, boyfriend Leon au, smut, hurt and comfort

Warnings: oral (f. receiving), fingering, praise, mentions and depictions of blood (but it’s really tame), swearing, hurt and comfort (it’s nothing serious though), pet names (‘baby’, ‘angel’)

WC: 3k-ish (I can’t remember the exact word count lmao)

A/N: I was debating on whether this could be considered a part 2 to my other domestic boyfriend Leon ff and right now I’m thinking fuck it— it can be considered a part 2 so if you read my other ff “Morning Distractions” I hope you enjoy this one! Also the two aren’t super connected so you can definitely read this one without having read the first one! ALSO! I plan on making more black reader related ff so look out for that if it interests you and suggestions for ideas are definitely appreciated (if I can ever figure out to how to open my mailbox or whatever that thing is called on tumblr). Anyways I hope you enjoy the story and sorry for the long ass note, it’s been a hot minute so I had to update yall, damn 😅

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Leon stumbled haphazardly out of his car as soon as he pulled up to the driveway, his heavy footsteps crunching against the hard gravel, interrupting the disgruntled quiet that settled over the early morning hours. He knew he needed to be quiet, not wanting to disrupt the neighbors as he stifled a grunt from escaping his lips, his gloved hand tightened over his side, the blood from the deep gnash slashed across his torso paying no mind to the pressure he tried to apply to stop the red liquid that stained his uniform. He had just come back from a mission and it was safe to say that it had been… arduous. He was honestly lucky that he didn’t sustain any other serious injuries besides the wound that was currently causing him severe amounts of pain.

“Fuck,” the man murmured under his labored breath as he leaned against the front doorframe, his body slumped and skin doused in a layer of sweat, coating him in its hard-earned glow.

Fumbling for his keys, his bloody gloved hands produced the jingling object, missing the lock a few times and cursing as a result until he finally managed to unlock the door. Practically tumbling into the foyer before his back met the cold surface of the door that closed behind him. Taking a quick assessment of the dark hallway, Leon sighed in relief when he didn’t see you waiting up for him like usual, figuring you were asleep due to the late hour. He didn’t need you seeing him like this– broken and fragile. As if you didn’t worry about him already, Leon knew this would only heighten your concerns and the last thing he wanted was for you to worry about his wellbeing when he knew you had your own shit you were dealing with.

Pushing himself off the door, Leon bit back a groan, the searing stab wound in his side alarming him of its pertinence as he trudged his way over to the pantry where he kept his emergency supplies. Grabbing a first aid kit he managed to stumble over to the couch right as his vision began to blur.

“Shit… I need to hurry up…” he thought to himself as he stripped himself of his shirt, tossing it to the side along with his dirty leather gloves. He sighed as the cool air-conditioned breeze rushing out from the vents hit his heated skin, the sweat drying unlike his wound as more blood gushed through.

Leon did his best to stop the bleeding, he was used to tending to his injuries so what was one more, right? He did his best to calm himself, his eyes periodically glancing up at the staircase to make sure you hadn’t heard him before glancing down at his wound, he hurriedly poured out a stream of rubbing alcohol onto a wipe before bracing himself, knowing the sting he was about to feel would be even more painful than the actual injury itself. And just as he predicted, when he pressed the wipe firmly against his side a strangled groan escaped his lips that he desperately tried to cover, his eyes squeezing closed tightly as he did his best to take deep and even breaths.

Unbeknownst to him, up in your shared bedroom, you stirred, sitting up slowly to glance at the clock on your nightstand before your eyes widened in alarm. You had fallen asleep waiting for Leon and if the sound that emanated from downstairs was any indication– Leon had just come home from his mission. You slip out from under the covers, grabbing a robe when the cool air meets your warm skin. With light steps, you quickly yet quietly made your descent down the stairs, your eyes immediately finding Leon slumped on the couch. It only takes you a second to take in the scene before you, noting the red cloth pressed against his side that you knew was white before.

“Leon? Oh my god…” you mutter, your tone laced with shock and concern as you hurry over to your boyfriend, sitting gingerly beside him while your eyes quickly assess his body, searching for any other ailments before zeroing in on his wound.

Upon hearing your voice break through his strained breathing, Leon’s eyes flew open, sitting up before grunting and falling back on the couch. “Baby– what’re you doing up? You should be sleeping–” he tried to soothe you, his voice taking on a calming lilt despite the obvious pain he was in, trying to mask it behind a weak smile that gave way to a grimace as his hand tightened around the wound.

“Leon–what happened?” you ask, immediately getting to work on fixing your man up. You had been with Leon long enough to know what to do in these situations, your hands finding the proper materials you’d use to stitch him back up, knowing his pride kept him from going to a hospital.

Leon shrugs off your question, attempting to stop your hands that tried moving towards his wound, “babe, I’m fine. Go to sleep.”

“You’re not fine. Stop acting all hard and let me take care of you,” your voice was firm, leaving no room for the man to argue with you as he sighed before relenting, laying back on the couch as his expression tensed, visible discomfort flooding his tired blue eyes.

He knew you loved him and that you took no issue with tending to his injuries, but every time you did he couldn’t help but feel like he was hurting you, having you constantly see the unheroic sides of his job that left him torn and dirty, bleeding over the new couch you guys had just bought. But he didn’t attempt to stop you again, simply letting a tense silence form between you as he watched you concentrate on cleaning up the wound after successfully stopping the bleeding for now. After a minute, he finally spoke, his voice low and quiet in the early dawn of the morning, “sorry about the couch…”

Your eyes flicked up to meet Leon’s when you heard his mumbled words, your hands picking out more medical materials from the kit, preparing to perform a brief suture on Leon. When you first assessed the wound you noted that it was deep but luckily not too severe, allowing you to patch him up now, at least until you forced him to visit the doctor later in the morning. “I don’t care about the couch, Leon…” you finally reply as you prepare to give Leon a few stitches.

“Yeah, but… you were so excited to pick it out and now–” Leon’s words are cut off when you first puncture his skin. He hisses sharply, his muscles tensing for a moment before relaxing, knowing he needs to be still in order for you to continue doing your job.

“And now it’s covered in blood. Your blood from the wound you weren’t going to tell me about.” Your words were clipped, the slight anger you felt at Leon trying to hide something like this from you rising now that you knew he was going to be alright. Your eyes didn’t meet Leon’s as your hands quickly began sewing Leon up, his skin coming together under your ministrations as the area surrounding the wound was dusted in a light red tint, the skin agitated yet prepared to begin healing as you finished up the last stitch.

Leon sighs as you begin to pack up the materials, noticing how you practically throw the needles and rubbing alcohol into the kit before quickly wrapping up his wound in a thick layer of gauze. He knew you were upset with him, you always were when he tried hiding his injuries. Wanting to alleviate your anger he slowly sat up, grunting a bit at the pain from the sudden movement which earned him a glare from you. He internally cursed in his head, knowing he wasn’t making a good case for himself already as he tried to find the right words to say to ease your mind.

“I’m sorry, ____. Really… I know you want to be there for me, but I can’t help but feel… ashamed whenever you see me like this,” running a rough hand through his hair, Leon sighed heavily, his chest rising and falling as his breath evened out, his mind clearing up from the pain due to your help.

“Ashamed? Leon, I’m your girlfriend, not your colleague. You shouldn’t be ashamed to let me see you when you need help.” You reply, your expression softening for a moment as you turn to look at Leon better, the little light emanating from the lamp in the corner of the room casting half of his body in a warm glow, his skin regaining some of its color from the sickly pale tint it once had. You lift your hand to lightly brush along the side of Leon’s cheek and he leans into your touch, finding it a beacon of comfort after the horrors he had seen the night before. Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help the wave of dejection you felt, realizing how little Leon trusted you concerning his wellbeing and your capabilities to support him through his vulnerable moments, “I love you and you know that. I’ll always be here for you no matter what, but I can’t help unless you trust that I can.” Your tone was quieter this time, subdued in the levels of desolation you felt course through you.

Leon’s eyes widened a bit as he took in your words, his gaze catching onto the way your gaze pooled with a certain sadness and concern he hadn’t quite realized you carried for him. “Babe, I… I do trust you. With my life, but I still don’t want to have to put you through seeing me like this– you deserve someone strong to protect and secure you.”

“Yeah, but what you’re not getting is that I should be allowed to do the same thing for you.” Your reply stings deeper than any cut or stab wound Leon could’ve received. With a somber look, you press a quick kiss to Leon’s cheek before standing up and making your way back upstairs, the lingering tension of your conversation hanging over him as he watched you disappear upstairs, leaving his wound fixed but mind a mess.

“Damn it, Leon…” he muttered under his breath, his head hanging low while his hand rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t realized the depth of your feelings for him, the unwavering love you harbored for him that he practically pushed away to maintain his pride.

He knew he needed to fix this, to show you that he trusted and loved you in the same way that you did, he couldn’t just leave it like this, leave you alone in your bedroom questioning his feelings for you. No– he couldn’t have that. With determination pushing away his regret, he managed to stand, the wound still emanating a dull pain but it wasn’t enough to keep him from making his way to the stairs. While it took him longer than he liked, he managed to make his way upstairs, quietly heading towards your shared bedroom and finding your back facing him.

His eyes briefly flicked over to the sun slowly beginning to rise over the horizon, painting the once pitch-black sky into a mirage of oranges and pinks that blended into a light blue. He sighed at the sight before turning back to you, his expression softening as he observed you for a moment longer before making his way over to the bed. Making sure to avoid putting pressure on his wound, he slipped under the covers next to you before his heavy arms reached out to gently wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to him as his toned chest met your back, his breath skating down your neck as he took in your natural scent, the smell intoxicating him. After thoroughly taking in your presence and how nicely your body fit against his, he began to talk, his voice low and quiet in the small space between you.

“Baby? I don’t know if you’re awake and if you’re not I have no problem repeating this, but if you are listening I want you to know how much you mean to me,” he began, pausing for a moment as he figured out the rest of the words he wanted to say that perfectly encompassed how he felt, “I love you so much… you’re my everything, I swear. I know you care for me and I guess… I guess I was scared that if you saw how fucked up my job really was and the amount of times I end up getting my ass kicked you’d end up leaving… that it would be too much for you to handle and I shouldn’t have assumed that. I thought I was protecting you, but I realize I was only pushing you away.” Leon had more to say, but he stopped when he saw you shift before turning to face him.

He smiled softly when he saw your face, his hand leaving your waist to brush along the curve of your cheek, his touch delicate yet warm as his eyes bored into yours. You had been awake the whole time and while you wished he told you about his injury earlier, you could understand why he felt like he needed to hide it. Your own eyes flicked over his face, taking in the way the early morning light perfectly highlighted his features– his sharp nose, angular jaw, and clear blue eyes that met yours, clear affection and vulnerability in his gaze as the sincerity of his words washed over you.

After a moment of staring, you finally spoke up, your voice quiet yet lighter now, “thank you, Leon. I love you too and I’ll always be here to support you… just promise me that you’ll be more open with me the next time you get injured, okay?”

Leon nods, his pink lips immediately widening in a bright smile. His hand cups your cheek before he leans forward, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, “I promise. I’ll tell you everything from now on,” with that submission he deepens the kiss, his lips pressing more firmly against yours as his tongue runs along the curve of your bottom lip, leaving you breathless when he pulls away.

Instead of the affectionate loving smile that once graced his lips, when he breaks the kiss, you note the sudden heat pooling in his gaze, his smile turning into a sensual curl of his lips while his thumb left your cheek to brush along your bottom lip that his tongue just tasted, “god, I missed you…” he murmurs, his eyes taking you in as if you were the world’s most fascinating piece of art, “do you mind if I finish my apology?”

You quirk an eyebrow at the sudden question as you do your best to not show how much his touch has gotten to you, your legs shifting conspicuously under the covers to quell the growing ache you felt between them. “Finish?” You ask, wondering what Leon was referring to.

With a devilish smile, Leon suddenly moves below the covers as you feel him shift, his hands lightly caressing your legs before finding your plush thighs. With a gentle push, he parts your legs and settles between them. Immediately your mind understands what he meant as you begin to protest, your eyes widening as you quickly lift the covers to look at Leon. His gaze meets yours as he gives you an endearing smile, his slender fingers tracing along your inner thigh. “Leon– no, you shouldn’t be doing this. Your injury…”

“I’ll be fine, I’m just gonna show you how much I love you by eating you out, okay? Now relax for me, babe, and let me please you,” without another word, you watch as Leon’s fingers move up to the edge of your underwear, a damp spot already making itself known which earns a smirk out of Leon as his fingers brush over the area, probing lightly against your entrance before moving up to brush against your covered clit, earning a quiet groan out of you as you debate on letting this happen.

All resolve to push him away, however, dissolves when you feel his tongue flick against your underwear, tasting your arousal as the barrier of thin fabric adds another sensation of pleasure to the erotic scene. Your eyes almost go out of focus as your hand holding up the cover trembles a bit, your thighs spreading further apart on their own accord to give Leon more access to you, a silent plea for him to continue which he gladly does with a shit-eating smirk on his lips. His hands quickly tug off your underwear, tossing them somewhere under the covers before his eyes take in the sight before him.

“So beautiful…” he murmured as he took in your wet folds, his intense gaze was enough to have your heart racing against your chest, desire and anticipation making an impatiently intoxicating mix as your teeth captured your bottom lip. With one final glance up at you, Leon lowered his head before he rested between your legs, his tongue sliding out and immediately finding your sensitive bud of nerves.

He started slow at first, wanting to build up your pleasure as the tip of his tongue slowly swirled around your clit, switching between gentle flicks and swipes to his lips sucking against the bud. The sensation elicits a moan from your lips as your hand drops the covers, too consumed with the pleasure of Leon’s tongue against you to bother keeping it up. Instead, your head falls back on the plush pillow below you, your hips lifting slightly to better meet Leon’s mouth.

He hums in appreciation for your urgent need to feel more of him, the sensation vibrating against your pussy as his tongue continued to flick against your clit before finally moving on, giving the sensitive nerve a break as his tongue finds your entrance. Without much warning, his tongue slides inside you, lapping up your arousal and tasting you, causing him to moan softly against you, enjoying not only the way you tasted but the way your body reacted to his touch.

His hands reached up to grasp your hips, steadying them against his mouth, not wanting you to escape the pleasurable torment he was bestowing upon you as more moans tumbled from your plush lips, your back beginning to arch while your nails dug into the sheets. You were endowed in blissful surrender, your every squirm and whimper belonging to him as he pleased you to no end, wanting to display his devotion and care for you. Moving away from your entrance, his tongue returned to your clit, flicking against the bud while one of his hands moved away from your hip to your entrance, brushing along it before slipping two fingers inside, your walls clench at the intrusion as his digits probed deep inside you, the wet sound of your pussy mixing with your moans that grew louder with every thrust of his fingers inside you.

You could feel the coil of tension in between your legs begin to tighten, the tension in your body building as you squirmed under Leon’s touch, the double stimulation of his fingers and tongue sending you over the edge as your eyes fluttered closed and thighs threatened to close the closer you to got to your orgasm.

“Hold still, baby… almost there, you’re doing so well for me…” you heard Leon’s low voice rumble from under the covers, you missed the smirk he had on his face, too busy trying to grapple with your incoming climax that had you crying out to Leon. His hand that wasn’t fucking into you held down your hips, stopping you from moving away or closing your legs, sliding down to hold your thighs apart. He was determined to make you cum, he wanted to taste you over his tongue, to know he did a good job for you.

“L-Leon–ah! God– I-I’m close–!” You manage to sputter out seconds before your muscles seize, your body stiffening before finally the coil snaps and a blinding light overtakes you, your figure shudders and trembles against Leon who doesn’t let up even with your warning. He simply redoubles his efforts, wanting to bring you over the edge with an intensity that matches his affection for you. His lips continued to suckle against your clit, his fingers plunging in and out of you as your orgasm washes over you. He loves the feel of you shaking against him, pride swelling in his heart at making you feel as loved and cared for as he felt around you.

When you finally begin to calm down from your high, Leon takes a second to clean you up, his tongue collecting your essence dutifully before he finds your underwear somewhere under the sheets and slides them gingerly back over you. Finally, he rises from the covers, his body hovering over yours as he stares deeply into your eyes, leaning down he presses a searing kiss to your lips, allowing you to taste yourself before pulling away with a soft smile on his lips. “So do you accept my apology?”

You chuckle when you hear his question, your hands lifting to wrap around him, resting along the back of his neck as your fingers lightly brushed along his smooth skin. “Yes, I accept and forgive you, babe. I love you…” your words are sincere and intimate, matching the peaceful atmosphere that settled between you as Leon gazed down at you, a tender gleam in his eyes.

“I love you too, angel. And I thank you for all that you do for me…” he murmured, his tone open and honest for you to see. As he dropped another lingering kiss against your lips he couldn’t help but settle in next to you, holding you close as you both embraced one another in the tranquility of your room, the sun rising as you both prepared for a restful sleep, uncaring if the world outside was beginning to wake up as you two held one another, content to slip into your sanctuary of love and security.

•

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ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

[forever-rogue]

Blonde!Peter request: it’s quarantine and he gets so ridiculously bored that he borderline forced you to help him bleach his hair, and when you realize “oh fuck, he’s actually really hot with blonde hair”, some steaminess occurs? However far it ends up going is up to you, but also Peter thinking it’s kinda funny and being like “I woulda done this years ago if I had known me being blonde would get you all flustered like this” because he’s a little shit

AN |  No, but blond!Peter does something for me. He’s so hot ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Sexual References

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

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“I am so bored,” Peter groaned loudly as he walked into the living room only to find you sprawled on the couch, watching yet another episode of another new show you were binging through. You caught his eye and nodded before moving so he could sit down next to you, “I think I might lose my mind.”

“Peter,” you rolled your eyes at your roommate, “you’re like a literal genius, surely you can think of something to do.”

“Wish that was true, buttercup,” he laid his head on the back of the couch, “there’s nothing to do - even for Spider-Man. It’s like even criminals decided to take a break and listen to the rules for once.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, slyly looking you over. His breath almost caught in his throat as he realized you were in nothing but short-shorts and one of his old shirts. He thought he’d lost that one…but it looked way better on you, “yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as he watched whatever show you’d put on, attempting to keep up with the plotline but zoning out more than anything. His thoughts kept drifting back to you, despite his best efforts. He’d always had feelings for you, despite the fact that you were off limits - you were his roommate and his best friend. He wasn’t about to throw all that away by making a fool out of himself. But, ever since you’d both been stuck together in quarantine, his feelings and urges were growing stronger and stronger. 

It was starting to be a problem. There was only so many times he could jerk off to you in the shower before you caught on. Especially when it was always your name dripping from his lips like pure, sweet honey. He cleared his throat and focused his attention back on the screen. After a bit of half-assed watching, he came up with a brilliant idea.

“I’m going to bleach my hair.”

“Peter, no.”

“Peter, yes,” there was a wicked glint in his honeyed eyes that told you he was up to no good, “and you’re going to help.”

“Absolutely not,” you rolled your eyes, “you do not need to be blond, Peter Benjamin Parker.”

“There’s nothing else to do,” he groaned and poked your side, grinning when you squealed due to your ticklishness, “and we have the stuff from when you decided you need pink hair!”

“Hey, that was necessary,” you insisted, giving him a pout, “and don’t act like you didn’t like it, Pete. I know you did.”

“That’s,” you could see the flush of rose rise up in his cheeks, “that’s besides the point! Baby, just say you’ll help me.”

“Peter,” you raised an eyebrow, “don’t call me that.”

“Come on, please help,” you both knew that you could never say no to Peter Parker. You waved him off, “I’ll do whatever you want in return.”

“Fine,” you gave in with a huff and he pumped his fist in the air, “I’ll help you.”

“You’re the best,” he leaned over and pressed a big, sloppy kiss to your cheek, “I always knew I loved ya.”

You sat there in stunned silence as he jumped off the couch and practically ran to the bathroom. Your own face reddened as you watched him go, trying not to stare at his ass and how good it looked in those stupid grey sweatpants. Sometimes it was hard to be in love with your best friend and roommate. Especially when he was hot, smart, funny, and nice as Peter Parker.

You weren’t sure how you were going to survive quarantine without something happening between the two of you. Fuck.

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“Peter, I need you to stop squirming and stay still,” he was seated at the edge of the tub as you tried to brush through his thick locks of hair. You could tell the boy, with all his energy, was already getting impatient at having to sit still for so long, “it’s not my fault you have stupidly thick, gorgeous hair. You sure you wanna ruin it, bub?”

“You like my hair, huh?” you didn’t even have to look at his face to know that he was smirking, “it’s not gonna ruin it…right?”

“I mean it won’t ruin it,” you gently dragged the brush through the last of his hair, “but it’ll damage it and take a minute to get back to how soft and healthy it is. You are bleaching it after all.”

“Am I going to end up with straw hair?” he teased and you couldn’t help but snort at the comment.

“No,” you promised as you crouched down and brushed a few stray locks out of his face, “I’ll take good care of you, Pete.”

He raised an eyebrow at your little innuendo and your entire face flush with warmth, “you’ll take good care of me, huh?”

“Your hair,” you quickly corrected, “I’ll take good care of your hair.”

“You can do whatever you like to me,” Peter had never been one to be shy with his affection around you, but you’d never been ready to cross the line from best friends to lovers. But Peter, among other things, was a patient man - a horny but patient man, and he was willing to wait for you. 

“I’m gonna mix the bleach now so we can start,” you stood and pulled out of his grasp as you busied yourself on the counter with making the right mixture for his hair, “just sit for a few or run around and get your energy out now.”

“Well then,” he practically bounced up and ducked out of the bathroom, “I’ll be back in less than 10!”

“Peter-”

But he was already gone and down the hall, evidenced by the slam of his bedroom door. Odd. But you decided not to question him; you knew better than to question him. Maybe he was just gonna do some exercise in his room for a few moments. You shrugged to yourself as you grabbed the developer and packets of powdered bleach. 

Little did you know that Peter was in his room, pulling his hard cock out and jerking off before going back to you. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed his little problem when you were crouching right in front of him. But he needed to take care of it if he was going to survive you putting bleach all over his hair. Your gentle touch, your warm scent, your tits almost in his face, all of it made him harder than he cared to admit. His plan was to quickly get it out of his system and think some of the worst thoughts possible while you were all over him.

“Fuck,” he groaned quickly, hoping you didn’t hear the slick of his hand on his cock. It didn’t take long for him to almost spill in his hand. He pictured it was your smaller hand wrapped his cock, with your pretty, smart mouth opened to catch his cum on your tongue, “you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Fuck, baby.”

It wasn’t long before he spilled onto his hand, stuffing his fist into his mouth to keep from moaning too loudly. He didn’t need you to hear him whimper your name right before he came back for you to bleach his hair. 

He cleaned himself up and steadied his breathing, trying to compose him before going back out to you. Once he was sure that what he had done wasn’t too obvious, he went back into the bathroom and felt his heart rate pick up immediately. You’d changed into another pair of tight little shorts and an old, ratty t-shirt of his that you didn’t need to worry about getting bleach. You were too beautiful. 

“You ready, Pete?” you turned to him with a sweet smile, and damn. He felt his knees grow weak as he sat back down in his little designated space. He’d fought criminals, was a certified genius, but seeing you in those little shorts made him malfunction. 

“Y-yeah,” he managed to choke out as you pulled on a pair of plastic gloves.

“I’m gonna start with the length and then the roots come last, okay. They develop faster and if we do this first it won’t be even with the rest of your hair,” you explained as he nodded like he actually comprehended a word you were saying, “if it starts to burn or you feel uncomfortable let me know, yeah?”

“Okay,” he closed his eyes as you started to put the bleach in his hair. He figured that maybe if he didn’t watch you, he’d be able to keep himself from all of his fantasies of you. 

You worked slowly and methodically, singing softly under your breath as along to the music you’d started playing from the small bluetooth speaker. After a few songs he instantly realized that you were shuffling the playlist he’d made for you. Oh. He had it bad for you.

It seemed like an eternity until you were done, making a satisfied sound as you looked at his head full of bleach. You grabbed the plastic bag you’d brought in with you and wrapped it around his head, “gotta let it all meld together for a bit. It’s gonna feel hot, okay? But if it gets to be too much, let me know. I think leaving for about forty-five minutes should be fine, then you can wash it off. We’ll go from there…your hair isn’t too dark and virgin so it should take easily.”

“Thanks babe,” he relaxed and grinned when you didn’t correct him on the nickname, “I’m sure it’ll be great. I owe you.”

“What’re friends for?” you teased as you pulled off the gloves and started to clean up. You felt his eyes on you, knowing he was checking you out, but decided to ignore, “go and relax, Pete. I’ll be done here in a few. Put on a movie or something.”

He made a small sound before padding his way into the living, a flurry of emotions coursing through his veins. You were already the best parts of him, held the biggest place in his heart, but you were making this so difficult. He wanted nothing more than to just-

“Hey,” you walked back into the room and plopped down on the couch next to him, “what’re we watching?”

“I just ugh…the Office?” he asked lamely as your face lit up. Of course he’d pick your favorite show. You gave him a cheeky little wink before making yourself comfortable. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to focus on the screen. 

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The timer on your phone went off and startled both of you. Neither of you had been watching the show very closely, both hyper aware of each other’s presence, “alright Pete, time to go shower! So, wash the bleach out, shampoo, and then use my deep conditioner. That should take care of it nicely.”

“Alright,” he grinned, excited to see the results of your hard work, “I’ll be back eventually!”

“If I’m asleep by the time you get back,” you poked a finger at his chest, “don’t blame me. You’re the one that decided to do this late at night.”

“I would never,” he wrapped his long, slender fingers around your wrist before giving your hand a small squeeze, “well, I’ll be back as blond Peter soon!”

“Dork,” you laughed, a sound that went straight to his heart, as he ran into the bathroom. You yawned, rubbing at your tired eyes before deciding to lay on your bed as you waited for him. Unfortunately, you were fast asleep within minutes, unable to keep your eyes open any longer. 

“Babe,” he stepped into your doorway, his features softening when he spotted you all curled up and snoring lightly. He pulled back your blankets before picking you up effortlessly, without waking you, and tucking you under the covers. He smiled as you buried your head into the pillows, unable to stop himself from pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “good night, buttercup.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you woke up, you found the early morning light streaming in through the gap in your curtains. You yawned and stretched, enjoying the popping of your stiff joints as you realized that you were under the covers. Strange. You didn’t even remember falling asleep or tucking yourself in. After rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you slid out of bed and walked out of your room in search of coffee. Since you couldn’t go to your favorite cafe at the moment, you’d taken up learning to make all sorts of coffees at home. A pick me up was exactly what you needed right now. 

But as soon as you made it into the living you stopped dead in your tracks. There was Peter Fuckin’ Parker, sitting - manspreading - on the couch as he casually read a book, and sipped a cup of coffee. Not only that, but he had a head of bleached blond hair, which and you hated to admit this, made him look fine as hell. 

He must have heard the hitch of your breath along with the quickened beating of your heart because he looked up and gave that golden boy smile that made your knees almost buckle. How did he not only look amazing with his natural hair but so disgustingly hot with the head of blond hair. 

“Good morning,” he closed his book, which you quickly spied to be Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? as he gave you his full attention. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but your mouth ran dry, “you alright? Cat got your tongue?”

“Pete,” you blinked a few times and tore your gaze away before you got too lost in those glittering honey eyes, “the blond worked out. L-looks great.”

“Yeah?” he stood and walked over to you, running a hand through his newly bleached locks, “you think so?”

“Of course,” you swallowed thickly before moving past him to go into the kitchen. Maybe you could get out the feelings of frustration you were feeling on making a fancy iced coffee, “you always do.”

He followed you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his strong arms crossed over his broad chest. You could feel him watching your every move intently, but you tried to ignore it as best as you could, “you know I woulda done this years ago if I had known me being blond would get you all flustered like this.”

“Peter,” you turned around and he was right there, his big brown eyes on yours, refusing to leave or back down, “I-I’m not flustered.”

“Why are you lying to me?” he whispered, reaching up and touching your face, bushing his knuckles over your cheek, “I can hear how fast your heart is beating…I can smell you.”

“Pete…” he set his hand flat on your chest, just above your heart as he felt it beat rapidly under his touch.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he backed you up until you were pressed against the counter and looking up at him with wide, doe eyes, “you don’t want to make a mistake. But baby, just give this a chance. You gotta know I’m in love with you, right? That I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I know you’re scared, but give me a chance, sweetheart. You’re fucking breaking my heart, looking like you do everyday, smiling that pretty smile, using that smart mouth…”

“Peter,” you put your hand on top of his and gently pulled it away from your face, “I…I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

“No,” you shook your head, “scared that if we don’t work out…I’d lose you. I don’t think I could live without you, Peter.”

“That won’t happen,” he leaned in so his face was close to yours, his lips almost brushing against yours, “I promise. I’ve always been yours, baby, even if you didn’t want to see it. But if you don’t want this, really don’t want this, just say it and I’ll leave you alone.”

You could feel his warmth fanning over your lips, and you knew what he was saying was true. You closed your eyes for a moment before nodding ever so slightly, “I’m yours.”

That was all it took before he crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you sweetly and softly at first. When you were left dizzied and breathless, you pulled back and looked into his eyes, seeing that soft, dopey smile on his face. He put his hands on either side of your face before he pressed gentle kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and nose before stopping back at your lips, “say it again.”

“Peter-”

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” he didn’t hesitate for a moment before he effortlessly picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He was kissing you with a fervent hunger, years of pent up emotions being released all at once. He was carrying you to his room without removing his lips from yours. He tenderly laid you down on the bed, surprisingly gentle and reverent in his movements. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he held himself over you, strong arms caging you in and nudging his nose with yours, “I’m so in love with you.”

“Yeah?” your soft little question had his heart practically melting.

“Yeah,” he laughed softly, kissing you lazily.

“I’m in love with you,” you promised softly, “with brown or blond hair. But I gotta admit, Peter, you look so fucking sexy with the blond.”

“I knew you’d like it,” he grinned wolfishly, “my pretty girl.”

“I have one more question for you now…”

“Anything.”

“You gonna fuck me now?”

“With pleasure.”

[masterwords]

something like sanctified

Summary: Hotch & Morgan have a little accident while messing around. Now, their bed is broken and Hotch is a little broken too. Shopping for a new bed is more than a little embarrassing with your arm in a sling. (Alternate summary: they're too damn old for this shit.)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3k

Warnings: sex & a shoulder injury (no explicit sex, just obviously that's kind of the theme of these hijinks)

Notes: Today we're using a prompt from my forever muse @unionjackpillow - "Shopping for a new bed because the old one - that they got only 2 years ago - broke. Now they’re trying not to tell the sales person why exactly the frame is no longer in one piece." Oh. Well. I don't think they needed to say anything at all, do you? This fits into the Chicago Timeline, so they're older and have creaky bones but they're definitely not wiser. (The title sounds very serious but it's a line from "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye so...)

Read on AO3 if you prefer!

**

“They don't need our whole life story,” Hotch said, perhaps a little too stiff as he tried to pull himself out of the car. He didn't mean for it to come out that way, but it did need to be said. Most people would assume that to be the case...not Derek. Not the man who could charm his way into a new friendship any place he went if he was in the right mood. Today seemed like one of those dangerous days. “Okay? You're not on the market for a new best friend, just a bed. Because you broke the last one...”

“We broke the last one. And why are you so mean anyway? You were having just as much fun as I was.”

“You’re right. I'm sorry. I’m tired and my shoulder hurts, I probably should have stayed home. I shouldn't take it out on you, even if it is your fault.”

Derek rolled his eyes dramatically and hooked his arm around Hotch's waist, careful not to bump against his sore arm. He did have a point, they had been a little rough the night before and when you’re on the bottom of some intense acrobatics when your bed breaks and your arm takes the brunt of two people’s weight against an unforgiving hardwood floor...Derek supposed he had a fairly good excuse for being a little on the grumpy side. “I'm gonna tell 'em everything. About how you dislocated your shoulder, about how I offered to set it back in place and you growled at me to keep my hands off...about the trip to the ER at 2am, everything.” Hotch wasn’t proud of his reaction but the injury had blindsided him. He was nearly finished, his mind was way out in the stratosphere and then WHAM! His entire world exploded in bright hot agony. It took him nearly a full minute to even figure out what happened and in that minute he did not want to be touched. He’d already apologized about one hundred times.

“I would prefer you didn’t.” How was that for diplomatic? What he really wanted to say was the fuck you are, but he didn’t swear often and he really didn’t think it would come across as (almost) playful as he meant it. Better let that one die on his tongue. Derek’s jovial mood was hanging by a thread, too, and he was a lot better at hiding it but Hotch knew how easily they could devolve into a bitter argument.

They ended up at the mall, purely because Derek was hungry and planned to send Hotch on a mission to grab them some lunch and wait at the food court while he talked his way around the furniture store. The problem in that plan, he discovered, was that Hotch with only one useful arm wasn’t going to be able to easily carry trays of food on his own, not without risking some very embarrassing public mishaps. Like he needed to draw more attention to the humiliation of the injury.

Derek did plan to be vague, he wasn’t a complete maniac, but it was fun to let Hotch think that their antics would be center stage. Hotch turned down the food court idea promptly, insisting that they go together or not at all. The pain in his shoulder was making him feel a little sick, and he wanted nothing more than to stand beside Derek quietly observing. There wasn’t much Derek could do when Hotch looked at him with those sleepy dazed eyes, the look of a man who was just beginning to feel the effects of the pain medicine he’d taken before they left the house so he could get through the day as comfortably as possible. There was a time, years ago, when he wouldn’t have touched the pills but he was too old for that now. His body already hurt whether he injured it or not, and dislocating your shoulder is a young man’s game as the doctor had said. Scolded. It was kind of a scolding. “How do you dislocate your shoulder at this time of night?” he’d asked, and Hotch had no good answer. In his days as an FBI Agent that answer was always easy, it hadn’t occurred to him that he no longer had that safety net. Derek wasn’t even in the room with him, just to be a little less obvious. It didn’t matter. “Take it easy, you’re no spring chicken. This’ll take a little longer to heal.”

Longer to heal spelled trouble anyway. He’d dislocated his left shoulder which meant writing was going to be a challenge down the line. Hopefully taking longer didn’t mean past Spring Break, or at least that he would have some command of his arm by the time classes resumed. He hated to have to add taking time off to the list of indignities he was suffering for having a little too much fun with his boyfriend. Lesson learned. Maybe. It was fun.

“Just time for an upgrade?” the salesman asked with a wink, eyeing Hotch in his sling with a knowing look. Hotch felt the flush of utter humiliation rising like the tide in his neck. How did he know already? Were they that obvious?

“Yes.”

“Anything in particular you're looking for?”

Derek grinned. “Can we look at the ones with the padded headboards?” He was tired of hitting his head on hard wood, he’d been complaining about it for months. Now was the time to make a change if there ever was one.

Hotch wanted to die immediately, this was only getting worse. He should have gone to the food court. Dropping a tray of soda and pizza in the middle of hungry families eating would have been preferable to the horrors of this interaction. The salesman glanced from one of them to the other and nodded sagely. “Of course. We have some very nice ones, just got ‘em in.”

While they walked toward the showcase area, Hotch rubbed absently at the back of his hand resting in the sling. His fingers were tingling, they felt the way he imagined the inside of a snow globe might feel all liquid and glitter swishing and moving around. It wasn’t quite static, it was less intense than that but still unnerving. An unfortunate but temporary side effect of the injury they assured him would pass within a day or so. Sometimes nerves got jostled or pinched, but as long as it wasn’t painful or numb it was probably fine. He didn’t care for the word probably being used in a medical capacity. Come back if it doesn’t go away in 24 to 48 hours, that’s the drill. Hotch flexed his hand and sighed. At least, for the first time that day, he didn’t feel his tendons pull angrily at his injured joint. It was blissfully unaware of the movement below.

“I like the gray one,” Derek said pointing to a dark gray tufted headboard. It was nice. Looked like a bed and a wing back chair had an elegant baby, and he didn't mind it. Didn’t particularly like it bu the didn’t hate it either, and he wasn’t terribly picky about what his bed looked like. He cared a lot more about the mattress. “What do you think?”

The bed frame was upholstered in the same dark gray fabric, low to the ground, with no foot board. Metal, not wood. “It’s nice. You choose, I really don’t care as long as I can sleep in a bed tonight.” He was grouchy, running on about three hours of sleep and he was in pain...not really his shoulder, but every overcompensating muscle group that surrounded his shoulder ached deep and complained loudly. He wanted to be sitting down. He couldn’t possibly keep it still enough to be comfortable otherwise.

“Looks sturdy.”

“I've heard plenty of stories of beds being broken,” the salesman started with a sly smile. Hotch turned away. “If you can imagine it, someone has told me about it. Of course there’s the naughty stuff, but there’s also animals and kids and people rearranging a room, earthquakes…” he was rambling, he’d already clearly decided they had sex, he kept eyeing Hotch’s sling and the bags under his eyes. You don’t end up in a sling because your dog jumped on your bed, or your kid, and there hadn’t been an earthquake in Chicago recently. It was a pretty sure bet. “But not this style. Indestructible. How’d you hurt your arm anyway? Looks fresh.”

Derek, sensing the way Hotch immediately bristled at the question and moreover the implication, stepped in. “Work accident. I think we’ll take this one, it’s nice. Matches the rest of the bedroom. How soon can it be delivered?”

They’d told Jessica and Jack the same thing. A work accident. Jessica just gave them that look, wondering what kind of a work accident a professor of law could possibly get into (especially while his students were on spring break) and Hotch was sure he would fold if she asked for details...he couldn’t lie to her. But she didn’t ask, and Jack only rolled his eyes and said yeah, right, whatever. Hotch couldn’t tell if it was the kind of sarcastic yeah right that said he knew exactly what they were doing, or if maybe he thought Hotch had been doing something stupid like climbing a ladder without Derek there to support him...wouldn’t put it past him. Could go either way. He hoped for the latter of the two. In any case, the two of them were back in Virginia so Jack could spend his spring break with Roy. The broken frame was removed from the house and Hotch could live with that lie. Of course they’d have to answer for why they had a new bed once Jack returned to Chicago but that was a problem for next week.

“This afternoon. You’ll be sleeping in your brand new bed tonight.”

“Do we have to build it ourselves?” He sounded like a wuss, he knew it. He could build the damn thing himself he just...didn’t want to. He wanted to sit with Hotch on the couch and not worry about it. He wanted to throw a nice big tip at someone who was willing to do it for them.

“We can send someone out to put it together,” the salesman said, leading them toward the cash register. “It’s a two person job, and it appears you only have one able to work so I get it. They’re booked out a few days but I’ll see if I can’t get someone out there for you today.”

The bed was delivered and built without issue while Hotch took a much needed nap on the couch with Hank. Hotch needed the nap more than Hank did. Fran was fussing over him, knowing exactly what happened and not shying away from shaming her son for his childish antics. “You two are grown men, you have children who live in this house…”

“There weren’t any kids here, ma. We had a night free to be grown ups and do what grown ups do. We’re not allowed to have a little fun?”

“That is not the point, Derek Morgan. Look at him. That poor man. Was it worth it?”

Derek, glancing into the living room at Hotch sleeping with Hank on his chest, carefully tucked into the crook of his good arm, smiled. They were huddled beneath a blanket that left only the fluff of Hanks unruly hair and the top half of Hotch’s face visible. “I dunno. It wasn’t not worth it. You see that new bed?”

She smacked his arm with the pot holder and shoved him out of the way so she could get into the oven for her roast. She had insisted on making them dinner, as if Hotch’s minor injury meant they couldn’t do it for themselves. Sure, at least for today, Hotch was more or less useless but if he had to do something he would have. He just didn’t have to. He had the luxury to lay around with a toddler tucked against his chest and sleep off a good night that turned a little sour. Sleep off sore muscles and joints and a late night hospital visit.

“I was going to offer to keep Hank the Tank again tonight so you could take care of Aaron but I’m a little afraid you’re going to misunderstand me. Can I trust you?”

“No,” Derek said with that infuriating smile. “Of course you can’t. But you can probably trust him. I don’t think he’s planning on any hanky panky for a while.”

“Well at least one of you is using the brains God gave you.”

“Aw, ma, don’t bring him into this. Go sit down with your coffee and I’ll finish up here. I’m perfectly capable of making dinner for my family.”

She rolled her eyes but set the pot holder down, lifted her coffee and made a beeline for their bedroom to see the new bed (it was very nice, she had to admit) before wandering back to the living room to have a seat and wait for him to ask her help setting the table or waking the sleepyheads.

She did end up taking Hank back to her place for the night, just to make things easier. She also loved having him stay the night, he made every part of her house more cheerful just by his presence and she was missing Jack’s afternoon visits a little more than she thought she would while he was back in Virginia. She had a countdown on her fridge with a big circled date for her biggest grandchild’s return. It was partially for her, partially for Anthony, they both missed him fiercely. Their afternoons spent playing board games and drinking lemonade were a lot less fun without Jack and his unique brand of humor.

“You wanna give it a shot?” Derek asked as they started the arduous process of getting ready for bed. Hotch was struggling to pull his t-shirt off around an arm that he didn’t want to move. It wasn’t exactly stiff, the joint just felt weak and achey. And the tendons felt weak, like if he moved too far or too fast his shoulder would slip right back out and he’d be in a world of hurt all over again. His entire arm felt like it was hanging by a threat, unstable and dangerously close to blinding pain. He’d abandoned the cumbersome sling sometime around dinner time, deciding instead that he would rather just rest the sore arm in his lap or against his chest, engaging some muscles made it feel a little more secure.

Reaching out, Derek grabbed the shirt and helped maneuver it around the swollen mound of his mottled purple and red shoulder. He slid it down around the elbow and off, trailing warm soft kisses in the wake. He started at the deep bruising, the odd stretch marks in the skin where it had popped, and followed the line down to his elbow before standing up and finding eager and waiting lips instead. Maybe his idea that Hotch would be against hanky panky was a little off. It was a delightful revelation. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

“What would your mother say?” Hotch asked with a small smirk, already on board.

“Uh-uh, don’t you dare invoke her name in this bedroom…” Derek warned, already undoing Hotch’s belt and then his pants. Hotch was content to let him do all the work. He just watched with that amused little smile while Derek undressed him eagerly. “You trust me?”

“Against my better judgment…” Hotch whispered against Derek’s lips. “Always.”

That night, shoulder injury notwithstanding, they gave the bed its maiden voyage. Slow and steady, Hotch still riding the last bits of his paid med high.

Not a squeak, not a shift.

Derek had propped Hotch up on pillows, he really was less an active participant as he was a very involved observer. Eager and willing to let Derek do whatever he wanted. He did what he could, he wasn’t a cold fish, but ultimately found himself met with Derek chiding him, telling him to be still, to just enjoy the process. He barely even felt it in his wrecked shoulder or the angry muscles holding it in place. It was so comfortable, so quiet that they went at it again almost immediately before hopping in the shower to clean up. The discussion was limited to “yeah?” and “yeah”, monosyllabic and quick. Derek helped Hotch wash his hair and had trouble restraining himself when their hips brushed and rolled against one another, when their fingers touched, when Hotch sagged against him tired and finally, having exceeded the length of his medication and badly in need of another dose, feeling considerable pain. The muscles running the length of his spine ached as they worked twice as hard to hold his arm still.

“No more?” Derek asked and Hotch shook his head. He was tapping out. Derek wouldn’t argue.

“I’m ready to sleep.”

Derek was too, he wanted to lie down in bed, prop Hotch up with as many pillows as it took to make him comfortable and crowd in on him. Absorb his heat, give him heat, touch him and breathe him in. Tangle their legs and drape his arms and drift off. He wanted all of that too, but he feigned disappointment anyway. Because that was fun.

“Yeah...alright. I am a little tired. Guess we should see if the bed is good for that too, huh?”

[touchmycoat]

If you're still taking prompts from the smut list: 5, 7, 12 or 22 for He Xuan / LQG. Sexual or not, considering the leverage!au, those quotes could be job related.@.@

((Smut dialogue prompts))

5. “Take your clothes off. Right now.” 7. “Hands behind your back.” 12. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” 22. “Look how good you take it.”

Word Count: 3267 Leverage!AU

(i)

"Take your clothes off. Right now."

Liu Qingge was halfway out of his shirt before he really registered the order, and then He Xuan was next to him yanking the shirt off the rest of the way before Liu Qingge could pull it back down.

"Pants."

"Back off," Liu Qingge tried to snap, but was quickly losing ground as He Xuan backed him up among the racks of clothes and stage design props. And when he smacked He Xuan's hands away from his belt, He Xuan smacked his hand right back with his own belt buckle.

"You heard her," He Xuan said, low and dangerous in something that sounded a lot like the fuck around and find out voice he reserved for marks. "Models and designers only."

"So you be the model."

He Xuan tugged Liu Qingge's belt off with a neat yank. Then he took a step back and folded his arms.

"Fine. Then talk fashion."

Liu Qingge had to resist the urge to fold his arms in mirror, because in his current state, it would look just a little too much like he was covering himself up out of shyness.

"Shen Qingqiu?" he snapped into his earpiece.

"Sorry," Shen Qingqiu coughed. "All I know are brand names."

"Come on, Liu Qingge," Luo Binghe chimed in, all schadenfreude, "you were hired for your body."

"And not to rush but Lan Xichen is being held hostage..."

"Fine." Glaring vicious murder, Liu Qingge thrust out a hand at He Xuan. "What do I wear?"

With a smug not-smile, He Xuan turned on his heel and tossed the long end of Liu Qingge's belt over his shoulder. When the leather smacked against his back, Liu Qingge's gaze flickered.

"You're not wearing anything," He Xuan snorted. "Just shut up, follow me, and flex."

(ii)

"State police! Nobody move!"

He Xuan, slipping his fake detective badge away, of course made for Liu Qingge first, who stood in the middle of a pile of broken noses and unconscious bodies, as was his wont. A frenetic, giddy smile split the mark's bloody mouth (which had already been split once by Liu Qingge, before the private security forces moved in) as four policemen stepped into the room.

He Xuan grabbed Liu Qingge by the back of the neck like an errant puppy and shoved him face-first against the wall.

"Hands behind your back."

Behind him, the mark was babbling some thank god, where have you been bullshit, but He Xuan was too busy not-smirking at Liu Qingge's hissed curses when the cuffs went on too tight. Then there was a hand on his elbow. For the sake of the con, He Xuan didn't tear the man's arm off.

(Didn't unleash Liu Qingge on him; what the mark got a taste of before was really just a friendly nip.)

"Cheng Luan, was it?" He Xuan growled into Liu Qingge's ear. "I've been looking forward to this moment for a long time."

"Hey, excuse me—"

Then he was hauling Liu Qingge around to bury a fist in Liu Qingge's gut. It was real—it had to be at this proximity—but He Xuan had already given Liu Qingge's stomach a little tap to signal where he was going to hit. His knuckles found flexed muscles, but Liu Qingge doubled over anyways.

"Whoa, whoa hey—"

With a palm over Liu Qingge's jaw, He Xuan pulled him up and squeezed. Liu Qingge's pupils were completely blown when he glared at He Xuan.

"Wait just a moment, look, are you, are you one of them?"

He Xuan gave Liu Qingge's face another little shake, and Liu Qingge actually growled. Adorable.

"I'm talking to you!"

"What?" He Xuan finally snapped back, tossing a look of annoyance down at the CEO-of-the-week beside him.

"I'm asking," the mark said, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "if you're one of the dirty cops I pay off! Holy Christ, you really are all just a bunch of meatheads, huh? Don't know anything but violence, but it's fine, you're doing me a favor here. Make sure he goes away for good for me, alright? Whatever you did to that last Chen guy, I want you to double for him. I'll pay you double too, just make sure he really, really suffers."

Rabid blood-thirst slipping away in an instant, He Xuan moved his grip down into Liu Qingge's shirt collar and pulled Liu Qingge up straight. There was a loud plastic snap, as Liu Qingge broke the fake link in the cuff behind his torso.

"Hear that? He wants you to really suffer," He Xuan said as he plucked the detective badge out of his pocket and tossed it across the room. As they walked past the dumbstruck mark, Liu Qingge got right up into his face.

"He's lucky I didn't break his jaw."

"I don't—You're not real cops?!"

He Xuan didn't know how the mark hadn't pieced it together yet—he'd already answered that question with the detective's badge. One of the four men who'd entered with him—real police officers—had caught it, and pocketed it with the solemnity that spoke volumes about whom that badge belonged to. A fallen cop, perhaps, one set up and ambushed by his own, who were in turn on the payroll of a local arms-dealing CEO.

"You actually punched me," Liu Qingge complained on their way out. He Xuan eyed the halved handcuffs still hanging from his wrists, and the skin rubbed red beneath the teeth.

"You're the one who told me I wasn't putting my hip into it."

(iii)

The cuffs this time were real. At Xie Lian's light-voiced, inflection-less call, He Xuan hauled Liu Qingge out into the swimming pool.

"Is this the man who's been giving you trouble?"

The trafficker smiled, toothy and depraved, as he drank in the sight of Liu Qingge's bare feet and torn clothing. Liu Qingge jerked forward in He Xuan's grip and spat at his feet.

"Sang Jingxing, I'm going to fucking ruin you!" he promised.

"Master Fangxin," Sang Jingxing applauded, "you truly exceed your reputation. This man's managed to avoid me for days."

Weeks, actually, but He Xuan didn't bother calling him out on it. He let Xie Lian's mild little smile take care of that.

"You've proven your skills..." Sang Jingxing continued, glossing over the look. "Alright, you've got a deal."

Xie Lian touched Sang Jingxing's outstretched hand with the very tip of two fingers in lieu of a handshake. His hands were even gloved.

"Thank you for your time, Master Sang. We'll be on our way now."

"Ah, just a moment." Of them three, only Liu Qingge's feet slipped on the tiles, and that was because they were meant to, with He Xuan hoisting him half-up in the air like this. "Master Fangxin, if you'd be so kind—I like to do all my inquiries and reconnaissance in-house."

Meaning, he wanted to keep Liu Qingge. With any other underground criminal boss, the threat would be torture by electricity, blunt force trauma, and dismemberment. Sang Jingxing had all of the above plus one favored trick up his sleeve—one that made the slip of Xie Lian's eyes over to him go icy cold.

"Ah yes," Xie Lian said, smiling just barely, "I've heard of Master Sang's proclivities. Several stories involve this precise setting, I believe—a VIP hotel swimming pool. With as many men."

Sang Jingxing chuckled, and so did the eight bodyguards poised around his surroundings.

"Drains and plenty of water, you understand," Sang Jingxing leered. "Gentlemen like yourself always frown upon a touch of more libidinous fun. Such a shame, for a figure like yourself."

"I'm going to tear out his eyeballs," Hua Cheng said calmly through the comms, and He Xuan thought he saw a touch of genuine humor light the corner of Xie Lian's mouth.

"It's true I don't personally participate in such methods, but you've got the wrong idea," Xie Lian spoke, shrugging. He waved a hand in gesture to He Xuan. "It's simply that I've already promised my trusty lieutenant here the same reward."

"No, you're certain? Then he simply must demonstrate." Simpering, Sang Jingxing clapped once and loudly, the sharp sound echoing through the tiled room. Liu Qingge was stiffening in He Xuan's hold. "Such a fine specimen—I actually said to my men how lucky we were that a man like that was coming after me. Surely you won't deny me a taste?"

Xie Lian had really perfected the look of heedless nobility, completely ignorant to the suffering of people beneath his station.

"If Ming Yi doesn't mind, I certainly don't."

He Xuan was instantly in motion, marching Liu Qingge forward and slamming him over the nearest table. He had to swipe aside fruits and cakes and coffees to do it. With Liu Qingge bent over, he tore one sleeve of Liu Qingge's shirt clean off, before moving down to Liu Qingge's pants.

They hadn't planned out of any of this, but Liu Qingge knew damn well there was only one thing he was meant to do in this position—he struggled like his honor depended on it (and it certainly did), bucking and kicking and twisting even after He Xuan slammed his forehead twice into the table.

"Feisty," He Xuan heard Sang Jingxing comment gleefully. "Just say the word if you want any help."

"My lieutenant's not a fan of touching what other people have soiled," Xie Lian commented idly, to Sang Jingxing's chuckles.

When a toss of Liu Qingge's head almost broke He Xuan's nose, He Xuan's hand found a roll of plastic wrap sitting by the fruits. This was the good stuff too, translucent and thick, breakable only by blades.

Forcing Liu Qingge down with a well-jabbed elbow, He Xuan flung the box off the roll of wrap and yanked a clear film over Liu Qingge's face. Fast as anything, he pushed the roll through the crook of his elbow and wrapped another bunched-up loop over Liu Qingge's neck.

Then he started pulling. Liu Qingge's back arched, plastic divoting instantly into his mouth, into his nostrils on an inhale. When he exhaled, He Xuan adjusted his left hand, pulling the cling film even tighter to not let any air in or out. Soon enough, the noises of Liu Qingge's ragged choking were echoing through the room.

"Wha—He Xuan?" came Shen Qingqiu's voice over the comms, alarmed. "Liu Qingge? What's going on? Xie Lian?"

"Alright, alright! That's enough!" Sang Jingxing said, laughing brightly and clapping his hands. "Don't whet my appetite if you're not going to feed it. You can take him, but on the off-chance there are any pieces left, why don't you have your man bring it back around? I'm less persnickety about those sorts of things than your man."

"I'll see what I can do," Xie Lian replied. "Ming Yi."

But He Xuan still hadn't let up. He could feel each of Liu Qingge's unfinished breaths lose rhythm in their panic, Liu Qingge's body going slack under his weight. Still, he kept his hands taught, leaning forward and pinning Liu Qingge's hips to the table with his—

"He has to sell it, A-Yuan-ge, Sang Jingxing's only testing—"

"Ming Yi."

He Xuan halted. Released his hands.

Liu Qingge spat the plastic wrap off his face and promptly vomited bile onto the table.

"I said, we're leaving." Xie Lian's voice this time was icy, and Sang Jingxing almost clasped Xie Lian's shoulder with a sympathetic hand until he thought better of it.

"Everybody gets carried away sometimes. Boys will be boys."

And he had the nerve to wink at He Xuan. If He Xuan were any less good at keeping his own feelings under wraps, he'd have hauled across the room and beaten Sang Jingxing to a pulp by now.

"I have no use for attack dogs that don't follow my order," was all Xie Lian had to say on that. He inclined his head, and that was all the order He Xuan needed to pull Liu Qingge up again and march him back out the room.

(Ignoring what felt like a very little but very real flinch when his hand closed over Liu Qingge's shoulder.)

A bit later, they parted ways with Xie Lian, who would make his exit through the hotel lobby. He Xuan and Liu Qingge took a circuitous route to the back of the hotel garage, where Liu Qingge shrugged off He Xuan's gesture to help, instead marching over ten meters of rough gravel ground on bare feet to get to his shoes and their car.

"Oooh," Luo Binghe murmured in his I'm-cracking-a-safe-so-have-little-brain-to-mouth-filter voice. "Trouble in paradise?"

"That's why you should always ask for consent before choking people," Shen Qingqiu mumbled mutinously. "Liu-xuedi, can you even speak right now?"

Liu Qingge snarled, but didn't answer, which definitely meant that he knew his voice would be compromised. A rough red line was carved across the left side of his neck where He Xuan had applied most pressure, and He Xuan couldn't help but stare at it when they got into the car.

It wasn't until Liu Qingge smacked a hand against his steering wheel that He Xuan looked up, and saw Liu Qingge mouth clearly and angrily, drive!

Pressing on the cabin lights above their heads, He Xuan articulated his motions as he moved in to pluck the earpiece from Liu Qingge's ear. Then he did the same for himself, gathering the two comm pieces into one fist. Liu Qingge looked at him with a distrustful frown the whole time.

"I'm sorry," He Xuan said, simply and honestly. He didn't bother giving any reasons or excuses or promises, only his regret, pure and true.

Liu Qingge watched him back for one long moment, before rolling his eyes.

You had to take off the comms to apologize? he mouthed, clearly angling his face and exaggerating his lip movements for He Xuan to see. Something tight between He Xuan's lungs loosened and slipped away, and He Xuan turned back to face the steering wheel, the tight line of his own lips relaxing.

"Sorry," he said, dropping the comms into the cup-holder between them. "I don't read lips."

(iv)

"Xuedi, you know my money's on Binghe," Shen Qingqiu had shrugged.

"And I'd bet on you, Liu Qingge, but I'm afraid with my luck, you wouldn't want me to," Xie Lian had laughed apologetically.

"He Xuan," Liu Qingge now demanded to know, rounding on He Xuan and crossing his arms. He Xuan just adjusted his glasses and kept typing on his computer. "Who's your money on?"

They were after a black widow predator, so of course Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge had made the bachelor auction into a competition.

By the door, Luo Binghe was rolling his eyes.

"Oh sure, go crying to daddy when you're losing a bet—"

He Xuan personally thought Luo Binghe, of all people, had no business mocking other people's relationships with the term "daddy." But that wasn't why he interrupted.

"Keep talking, Luo Binghe, and I'm changing my mind."

Luo Binghe brightened, standing up straight.

"Wait, you mean?"

"A hundred on you."

Whooping with a brilliant and admittedly handsome grin, Luo Binghe lifted his chin at Liu Qingge in a gesture of triumph.

"Told you I'm going to get a higher bid. But chin up, maybe you'll defy all, and I do mean all expectations and take home the pot. Cheers, He Xuan."

With that, he left, closing He Xuan's apartment door behind him, leaving only He Xuan and a very, very betrayed-lookng Liu Qingge standing inside.

He Xuan finally shut his laptop screen and looked up, meeting Liu Qingge's glare with an unapologetic look of his own.

"Yes?"

With a huff of disbelief, Liu Qingge turned and stormed away. Mid-storm, he paused, pivoted, and stormed right back.

"You're always—!" He jabbed a finger into He Xuan's chest, and He Xuan let him. He Xuan even circled over to the other side of the counter to let him. "Mocking me."

With a sound of agreement, He Xuan took a step closer. And as always, Liu Qingge read exactly what he wanted in a gesture, and didn't back away, despite clearly wanting to stomp off somewhere and lick his wounded pride in peace.

He Xuan nudged up his chin with a single knuckle, and allowed himself something just a tiny bit smaller than a smile, but no less true.

"And look how good you take it."

(iv)

It started after they stole an election, and then a country, and then took down Wen Ruohan.

"Take your clothes off. Right now."

It caught aflame between bright, almost disbelieving stares that they'd pulled off such a thing, and that Lang Qianqiu was now legally the president-elect.

"Hands behind your back."

It surged into all-consuming fire with Liu Qingge, all pliant limbs and steel-certain center as always, making his way into He Xuan's hotel room.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you."

"I fucking dare you."

It found them encased in sunlight, warm and oven-hot on this tiny European island. Luckily, the AC was on full blast, cooling the room enough that Liu Qingge and He Xuan could comfortably heat it back up again.

Indeed, Liu Qingge was sweating, and He Xuan was wiping his own forehead and body clean with a wet washcloth by the open-planning bathroom sink. At a leisurely pace, He Xuan twisted open a complimentary glass bottle of sparkling water and quenched his own thirst.

He made sure to gulp loudly enough that Liu Qingge, panting and grunting on the bed, could hear what he was doing. And sure enough, Liu Qingge growled in response.

A look of pleasure broke out over He Xuan's face, and he strolled back to bed, dangling another bottle between his fingers. He didn't open it though, opting instead to watch the little show he'd left going on the bed.

They'd co-opted one of the hotel curtain rails and some white satin curtain ties. The rail was currently tied between Liu Qingge's ankles as a make-do spreader bar. When he was fucking Liu Qingge, He Xuan had hauled that spreader bar far over Liu Qingge's head, hooking the center over a point on the headboard. Beneath Liu Qingge's thus-lifted ass, his hands were tied, wrist-to-wrist by yet another white curtain tie.

After he'd finished and before he'd gone for a towel and a drink, He Xuan had said, if you want me to fuck you again, don't let any of my cum leak out.

So now Liu Qingge was left to compress and contort himself every time he felt He Xuan's spend leaking out of him. When he saw He Xuan so blatantly watching, Liu Qingge went red—but that didn't stop him from gritting his teeth and chasing after a leaking trail with his straining fingers.

He Xuan hummed, pleased, as Liu Qingge fingered the cum back into himself, which inevitably just smeared white liquid even more messily over his exposed hole and the flesh of his ass.

"Look how good you take it," He Xuan murmured, getting back onto the bed.

Due to his position, Liu Qingge sounded a bit winded as he spoke, all of his abdominal muscles engaged to keep his hips and legs up like so.

"Don't you ever get tired of giving orders?"

It was a lighthearted complain, as meaningless as Liu Qingge, such a meaningful man, could make anything sound. It might have struck a nerve in He Xuan on any other day, but on this day, it liquefied in his belly and turned to warmth, pleasant like hot tea.

Because he understood that against all odds, this was Liu Qingge understanding him. Liu Qingge's exasperation, rather than humiliation or frustration at being put in such a position and given such a task, was proof that he knew what it was that made He Xuan tick. He got it, He Xuan's thing with orders.

That was why he was so damn good at taking them.

So He Xuan cracked open the second bottle of water and placed it between Liu Qingge's palms. Lifted an eyebrow when Liu Qingge realized He Xuan had no intention to help him get that bottle to his mouth (or vice versa—as such, it might actually be easier for him to get his mouth to the bottle).

"To you?" He Xuan murmured as he sat back against the pillows to watch the show. "Never."

[bubbleteaimagines]

The Babysitter

Kuroo Tetsuro Oneshot

NSFW CONTENT

Summary || After months of sexual tension, Kuroo can’t resist fucking his pretty little babysitter on the couch

Pairings || Kuroo Tetsuro x Babysitter!Reader

Warnings || Smut, fingering, blowjobs, age gap (reader is 20) light praise, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, daddy kink

Authors Note || In celebration of 3k, here is some Dilf!Kuroo that we all need in our lives

It was inevitable, you supposed. The tension between you two was simply too thick, and it had been for months— ever since you had started working for him.

Kuroo was a man that was very busy, and with a two year old daughter and a mother that was absent, it was no surprise that he needed some extra help.

That’s where you came in- fresh faced and right out of college, majoring in (Y/M/N) and needing a job for the summer.

A friend of a friend had been the one to hook you up, Kuroo taking a liking to you almost instantly.

He had to admit, it was your pretty face and bright smile that draw him in at first, but truly, you were most qualified candidate for the job.

Like a ray of sunshine, a breath of fresh air if he’d ever seen one.

Not to mention how his daughter absolutely loved playing with you from the moment she met you, so in Kuroo’s mind it was a no brainer.

That’s how it started— but your story with the older man would end much, much different.

With lingering glances here and there, subtle touches and late nights where you’d both just sit down and talk, it was no surprise to either of you that ended up here— face down on his couch and completely at his mercy.

Truthfully, it wasn’t supposed to end this way. You were only supposed to have a few drinks and then head home for the night, but somehow before Kuroo could even open the wine, the tension between the two of you had reach the boiling point.

Everything between you two had been spilled in an instant, and now you were a moaning mess as Kuroo’s soft lips attached themselves to your clit, biting and sucking softly while his long fingers worked magic on your cunt.

“You like that babygirl?” Nicknames, so many of them, and they sounded so sexy coming from his lips. You damn near came right then and there as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, nibbling a little while his assault on your pussy continued.

“Y-Yes,” You found yourself squeaking out a reply, too wrapped up in pleasure to respond with anything coherent. But alas, Kuroo wasn’t satisfied. He gave you pointed look as he fingers came to a still, a whine leaving your throat at the loss of contact.

“Kuroo!”

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s not my name. You know better,” He said disapprovingly. It only took you a few seconds for your brain to catch up, a spark of realization flowing through you before you uttered out the correct word.

“Daddy.”

“That’s it,” Kuroo gave you a huge smirk and in no time, continued on with brining you to your high. Admittedly, the man was skilled. Despite never having explored your body before, he knew exactly where to touch you, knew exactly the right spots to make you see stars. “Let me hear you baby- let see hear you cum for me.”

“F-Fuck, fuck!” A breathless moan left your lips as you threw your head back, pleasure taking over every sense. You could barely breathe, too focused on the orgasm that came crashing over you, knocking the air out of your lungs and rendering your brain useless.

You came, harder than you ever had before, all over Kuroo’s slender fingers. In fact, your little pussy made a mess all over his expensive couch but at the moment, Kuroo didn’t care.

His cock was growing harder by the minute as he watched you come undone under him, because of him.

He’s never seen anyone look so sexy, already looking fucked out even though he just started.

“You alright there babygirl?” He’s kind enough to ask, leaning down to stroke your cheeks. Wordlessly, you nod, but Kuroo can tell there’s something on your mind. Suddenly, you sit up, and there’s a hopeful look in yours as you crawl over towards him and pout.

“I wanna ride you, daddy,” You tell him, jutting out your lower lip and tugging on his belt. Fuck. How could Kuroo resist you when you looked at him like that? All needy for him, pussy throbbing at just the idea of him fucking you senseless.

“Fuck, you sure, baby?” He checks to make sure you’re serious before making his next move, and sure enough- you nod eagerly and tug at him again, a whine leaving your throat. He was moving too slow, being a gentleman, sure, but right now you wanted him to fuck you like a whore.

“Yes daddy, I’m absolutely sure,” You tell him confidently, and it doesn’t take much after that to get Kuroo to agree. Quickly, his hands replace yours at pulling at his belt, fumbling with the material and cursing himself for tying it too tight. Eventually though, he manages to get the damn thing off and throws it across the room, making a small clatter that neither of you pay attention to.

And suddenly, Kuroo’s sitting down on the couch and letting you do all the work of undressing him, chuckling at how eager you are. You grab at his clothes like your life depends on it— first his shirt, then his pants, and finally his boxers come off and Kuroo has the absolute pleasure of taking in your ‘O’ shaped mouth, jaw dropping at the size of his cock.

“D-Daddy, you’re so big,” You tell him, eyes wide. Way bigger than any of the college boys you’ve been with. Kuroo was hung and is was making your mouth water, desperate for a taste.

“Go on,” He softly encouraged you after seeing the look on your face, snaking his hands behind your head and gripping your hair. “Give it taste. Let me cum all over those pretty little lips babygirl.”

You’re all eager to fulfill his request, blinking innocently before leaning in and darting your tongue out. Kuroo groans at the action, back straining against the couch as you do it once more before finally giving him the real thing.

Your mouth is hot and tight wrapped around him, pure Heaven, Kuroo thinks, as you get to work and start sucking him like a pro.

Your head bobs up and down, taking him as much as you can and using your hands to stroke the parts you can’t reach. You open up your throat and take him deeper- so deep that you start gagging on his cock.

Kuroo moans at the vibrations and despite your teary eyes, he pulls your head further down and stuffs your mouth with his cock.

He moans again as he feels a pit in his stomach, his orgasm bubbling up the more you pleasured him.

You could feel it, too, by the way he was turning into putty under your touch and groaning every time you stroked him. Slowly, you look up to meet his eyes as you tease his tip with your tongue Kuroo suddenly lets go- sinful noises leaving his lips as thick, white ropes of his cum shoot out and down your throat.

Like the good girl you are, you swallow every last drop before finishing off with a ‘pop!’ Kuroo panting heavily as you sit back on your knees.

“Was I good, daddy?” You ask him, Kuroo frantically nods as he pulls you up, positioning you on his lap and just over his cock.

“The best, babygirl. You took me so well,” Kuroo praises you, stroking your hair before smiling. “You think you’re ready to take my cock now, pretty girl?” He asks, and you nod frantically.

“Yes, please Daddy. I want it so bad,” You tell him, gripping his shoulders, and that’s Kuroo needs to hear in order to spread your legs and lower you on his cock.

You moan as his tip begins to push past your tight walls, the breath leaving your lungs the more he fills you up. God, he’s so big, and he knows it too which is why he give you a little time to adjust to his size before slowly fucking into you.

“Fuck!” It’s so painful and delicious at the same time. The way you stretch around him, your little pussy desperately trying to take him. You throw your head back in pleasure when he bottoms out, hands coming up to steady you.

Your movements are slow at first, only rocking your hips and bouncing a little while you ease into a rhythm. However, you’re practically dripping around him and that makes it all the more easier to move, finally being to able warm up to his size.

The pace that you settle on leaves you both a moaning mess, trying to keep it down as to not disturb his daughter that’s sleeping upstairs. You have to bury yourself into the crook of Kuroo’s neck in order to mask your moans, walls clenching around his cock.

He’s so deep that it has you crying out every few seconds, wrapping your body around him to keep yourself ground. Kuroo doesn’t mind though, in fact he pulls you into a deep kiss as you continue to bounce around him, both of you moaning into the other’s mouth.

Somehow, your hands find his messy hair and you tug on it gently as you begin to feel another orgasm rising up. Kuroo can feel the way your walls are clenching around him, and decides to take the lead. Grabbing your hips, he steadies you before thrusting up and matching your pace, pounding into you while you try to hold on for dear life.

It’s no use though, pleasure clouds over you in an instant, your vision going in and out as you moan and whine against his lips. Eventually though, you’re forced to pull away for air and take deep breath, your body shaking. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, and Kuroo knows.

He feels the way you’re squirming and whining against him, he loves the way you’re going absolutely feral for his cock. He wants nothing more than to make you cum around him, and so he snakes a hand down and rubs at your clit, teasing you just enough to send you over the edge.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” You cry out as your walls clamp down on him, creaming all over Kuroo’s cock. Your eyes roll into the back your head and you hear Kuroo groaning underneath you as you squeeze him like never before. Fuck, you’re so tight that he has no choice but to cum too, a loud moan leaving his lips as the milky white substance paints your walls.

He stuff you full of it, his good little girl milking him dry before he pulls out at watches run down your thighs.

You’re breathing heavily as your eyelids slowly open, coming down from your high to see Kuroo as equally as flustered. You both need a minute to calm down before you speak, slowly moving off of his lap and collapsing on the couch next to him.

“That was...” You don’t even have the words for it. You’ve never been fucked so good before, the man making you cum twice which had never happened with any of your other hook-ups. It seems that Kuroo was feeling the same, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he nodded.

“Yeah,” Kuroo agreed as he leaned back on the couch, sweat dripping down his forehead. Even in his fucked out state though, he still looks incredibly handsome. Black hair sticking to his face, brown eyes wide with blown pupils...man, he really was beautiful.

You found yourself smiling the more you admired him, and Kuroo quickly caught onto your stare.

“What? Is there something on my face?” He asked jokingly, shying away from your gaze. You grinned at the light blush that crossed his cheeks.

“No, no...I just...you’re really handsome, you know that?” You found yourself saying, taking Kuroo by surprise. His brows furrowed together at your words, but he quickly recovered, a sly smirk forming on his face.

“Took you long enough to notice, didn’t it?” He teased, lightly nudging you. You giggled at the action but shook your head.

“No, I’ve always noticed. But honestly I didn’t think-”

“You didn’t think I’d see you that way,” Kuroo finished knowingly. You nodded. “Huh. Well isn’t that something.”

“I just thought...well I dunno. I didn’t think you’d be interested in me. I mean after all I’m just the babysitter, kinda cliche isn’t it?” You said.

Kuroo chuckled. “Yeah...I suppose it is. But this...us...it’s not just a one time thing, is it?”

“Not if you don’t want it to be,” You tell him seriously, turning to face him. “I mean...I’m willing to you know...be more, if that’s what you want.”

“You mean like a date?” Kuroo asked, shocked.

“I’m free on Friday’s,” You tell him shyly. But despite this, Kuroo finds himself smiling and slowly nodding at your proposition.

“Friday yeah? I’d say we’re doing things a little backwards, but I’d love to take you out,” He can’t help the goofy grin that spread across his face, his heart pounding a little at the shy, relived grin on your own.

“Okay...Friday it is then,” You beam, reaching for your lost clothing that’s been scattered on the floor. It was getting late, and you really should be getting home before your roommate starts to worry, but you find yourself not wanting to leave at all. Kuroo had completely intoxicated you, making you want to do nothing but stay in his arms for the rest of the night. Unfortunately though, you both froze as a cry pierced through the house and Kuroo cursed as he frantically got up, and slipped his clothes on

“I’m sorry,” He sent you an apologetic look as Kiana began to cry, having woken up from her sleep. “I hate to leave things like this but...”

“It’s fine,” You shake your head, smiling a little as you gesture upstairs. “She needs you, I understand. I’ll get my time on Friday, yeah?”

“I can’t wait,” Kuroo tells you honestly, stopping momentarily to press a quick kiss on your lips before darting to the stairs. “I’ll call you later this week, okay?”

“I can’t wait,” You repeat his words, grinning at his toned figure before watching him disappear up the stairs. Even from where you were, you could hear Kuroo gently cooing and trying to soothe baby Kiana (named closely after her uncle) and it made your heart absolutely melt.

Shaking your head, you gathered the rest of your stuff and quickly slipped out of the door before you ended up in a puddle due to the cuteness. Already, you had your phone out and rang up your roommate -also your best friend- as you walked to your car, excitement bubbling through your veins.

“Hello?” They answered on the first ring.

You grinned. “Y/F/N, you will never believe what just happened to me...”

[meetmymouth]

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

[toorusluvr]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ NASTY: OIKAWA TOORU.

characters: oikawa tooru x f!reader

cw:  college au + cheerleading au (the reader is a cheerleader) shower sex + anger/jealous sex + degradation + exhibitionism + possesive oikawa + slight impact play + cunnilingus + unprotected sex + vaginal penetration + blowjob + oral sex + slight spanking + bratty reader (is oikawa a brat tamer? :p) + oikawa became loving and soft at the end ;)

wc: 3k

crossposted on my ao3 🤍

The sound of your teammates cheering snapped you out of your deep thoughts. Your mind was cloudy, filled with useless thoughts concerning the fight you were having with your boyfriend, Oikawa. Both of you got into a fight again yesterday. It's unfortunate when you needed his support the most on your important day. You were unsure what caused the conflict, but you did lose your temper, and so did he. Both of you are hot-headed sometimes, and it's not good for your relationship. However, both of you love each other and makeup after the fight.

But yesterday was different. This is your first time fighting with Oikawa before your big day. Today's event is vital to you and your team to make it to the next qualifier a month from now on. You sat on the wooden bench, fidgeting your fingers before you went out to the field and started performing. One of your closest friends in the team approached you after she saw how restless you looked. "Hey, we are gonna go out in 5. Are you okay?" Her eyebrows stitched when she saw how cold your hands got when she touched them.

You looked up and saw her concerned face. A small smile formed on your lips, "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go if y'all are ready." You got up from the bench and forgot about your boyfriend for a moment. You had to do your best to make it to the next qualifier.

Oikawa made his way in the crowds filling the bleachers. Even though he was in the middle of a fight with you, he would never forget your important day. He wanted to see his princess doing their best and made it to the top, just like he does. Oikawa knew his support means a lot to you, hence his presence today. Being in a fight will never stop him from supporting his girlfriend.

He sat in the bleachers, ensuring it's close to where you'll be performing soon. And he made sure you'll see him rooting for you in the bleachers. He's proud of you nonetheless.

The loud cheer from the crowd let him knew that his girlfriend's team would start performing. A familiar remix of Nasty x Body Party started playing and blasted all over the booming system around the huge field. Oikawa's eyes landed on you, right in the middle of your formation. You seemed not to have noticed him into a few seconds of the song. He looked at the short skirt you were wearing and the skintight top. God, did you look so stunning in his eyes.

At this moment, you knew too damn well the choreography for this remix is sexier than any other choreographies your team had for the previous months. Since you made the co-captain, your sidekick let you know how sensual and flexible choreography can dominate your team's dynamic movements. The song mixed well with the choreography.

Oikawa watched every inch of your body moved along to the rhythm of the song. His heart feeling nervous at how the boys were ogling your body and how badly he wanted to throw punches in their faces.

You looked at Oikawa in the bleachers, making sure he watched you every second of the passing time. The gaze he was giving you felt different than any other day. The loving gaze has now turned into a gaze filled with lust and anger. You flashed him a cocky smirk before your presence dominated the entire performance. Standing in the middle of your cheerleading team, you let the crowds clapped while praising your team endlessly. After the noise subsided, you made your way to the locker room.

A few of the football's guys surrounded you and your team, making it difficult for you to get past them. You pushed them away with a loud grunt, "What the fuck. Get away from me, you weirdos!" Your friend saw how infuriated you were, so she let you cooled down first before nearing you in the locker room later.

You walked furiously to the locker room, and just before you pushed the door open, a pair of hands quickly pushed you inside the locker room. All words have flown out of your mouth the moment you felt the familiar touch. Oikawa. Why is he here in the female's locker room? Couldn't he wait for you after you're done cleaning yourself up?

Oikawa led you to one of the shower stalls. He pushed your back against the cold marble tiles. "What the hell are you doing here, Oikawa? This is the girls' locker room. Get the fuck out of here!" you grunted while trying to break free from his tightening grip. "Let me go, Tooru! It hurts!" you cried out in pain. You could feel your wrist started to be in pain.

"Did you enjoy being the centre of attention? Did you enjoy the fucking nasty looks the guys gave you?" he spat out in your ears. His heart raced when his mind started to recall the events from earlier. How fuming mad he was when he overheard the guys' disgusting conversations about your cheerleading team. He wished to destroy them all. How dare they said that to his own fucking girlfriend? And they had the audacity to think they could have you? Assholes.

"Tooru! What the fuck are you talking about? Please let me go!" you begged. "What are you doing here? Please leave. They are going to come in soon!" you cried. The thoughts of your teammates caught both of you in the shower room together scared you. Oikawa's not supposed to be in here, yet here he was.

He ignored your pleas. "Oh, my angel, don't you care about how infuriated I was? How you turned me on with your choreography? And these outfits? Oh, baby, you should have known better" his hands snaked around your waist. He turned your body around so you could face him and see him straight in the eyes. He wanted you to know that he owns you, and no one else can.

Oikawa's brown orbs stared directly into your soul. Your expression right now is priceless. He loves how much control he has over you, especially when he's mad jealous. "Did you know what you just did to me, babe?" his fingers trailed over your smooth skin and your chin. He lifted your chin using his index finger before he lightly slapped you across your face.

"I got hard while you were dancing your ass off in the field. How does that sound to you, hm?" he whispered in your ears. Before you could open your mouth, the sound of your teammates cheering filled the once silenced locker room. "Shush, baby. We wouldn't want them to know, right?" he kissed you tenderly on the lips. "Turn on the shower, baby", Oikawa commanded.

You gulped, knowing too well where this is about to go. Oikawa stripped off his clothes and hung them neatly on the hook. When his right hand about to touch you on the face, you heard a bang on the door of your shower stall. "Hey Y/N! Are you in there?" you heard the familiar voice of your friend asking you from outside. Your lips trembled, eyes dilating when you turned to look at your boyfriend.

You cleared your throat, "Y-yeah, I am in here. I'm fine, don't worry. I need some time alone. You guys can leave first. I'll lock up later!" Your hands shaking when Oikawa touched your angelic face.

Your friend heard the shower running and shrugged her shoulders. "Mmkay if that's what you said. They're going to shower first before we head out. I'll let you know when I'm about to leave, though!"

"Okay!" your voice seemed small and terrified if they ever found out about Oikawa's presence in the locker room. You heard your friend's footsteps disappearing in the distance before the shower stall next to you started running its water.

"Now we can talk, hm?" Oikawa sucked on your sensitive spot just below your ears. A small gasp escaped your mouth when he nipped on your neck. You were sure he's gonna leave a lot of hickeys all over you by the time you guys are done. This is just the beginning to him, after all. Oikawa's lips travelled to your clothed breasts before his hands took them off of you.

You raised your arms higher for him to undress you. His large hands palmed your half-naked bosom. His slender fingers trailed over every inch of your skin before he inserted them in your beautiful mouth. "Suck", he commanded. You did as he told. Your lips wrapped around his two digits as your eyes followed his movements.

Oikawa pulled down your short skirt. The feathery touch of his fingers against your thighs made you shivered. You whimpered as you felt your whole body is soaked in water. Oikawa's wet hair made him look a thousand times attractive. He flashed you a cocky smirk before he crouched down on the ground. He spread your legs wider and touched you on your dampened cotton underwear.

"Mhm, my baby is always soaking wet", you heard he mumbled softly. Your fingers buried in his soft brown locks while he was savouring your taste. He pulled down your underwear and let it pooled around your ankles for a while. His pretty and pink lips started kissing your inner thighs that made you whimpered like a bitch in heat. "You're always so beautiful for me, love", you heard him said.

You felt his hot breath fanning over your core. He used his force to spread your legs even wider to bury his face in between your legs. "Beg for me, princess", he growled. His fingers toying with your slick folds. "Beg for me like the little slut you are", he spanked your thighs. And when he watched them jiggled, it only turned him on even more.

"Shit", you mumbled under your breath. "Please, Tooru" you made sure not to let anyone outside heard your voice. You were very cautious, but Oikawa did not. He smirked cockily, "Not loud enough, slut."

His fingers stroking your slick folds up and down, collecting your juices with his fingers to continue teasing you.

You let out a breathy moan. "Tooru, please. Fuck me like the little slut I have always been," you begged. You would have been so embarrassed if any of your teammates actually heard you begging to be fucked like a slut. "Please, Tooru. I promise I'll be good."

Oikawa let out sinister laughter. "Oh, my little slut. This pussy misses me that much?" He inserted his two slender fingers into your dripping cunt. You yelped at the sudden stretch and accidentally let out a loud whimper. You put a hand over your mouth as you rested the back of your head on the cold marble tile.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you agonizingly slow that you had to bite your hand when his pace started to build your orgasm. "Mmph", you muffled your moans with your hand. "Ah- Tooru", you whimpered. You looked down at Oikawa, who gave you another smirk. He pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his tongue. His tongue laid flatly on your pussy, and you felt a long stroke of his lick.

Oikawa tilted his face to get better access of his tongue on your dripping cunt. His tongue gladly lapped every one of your sweet juices. Before he buried his tongue even deeper, he mercilessly toyed with your clit. You bit your lower lip as your orgasm slowly building up. "Tooru, I'm so near" you let out another breathy moan. He kissed your clit before switching his tongue to his fingers.

His thumb rubbing circles on your clit to stimulate your orgasm. "Ah- please, please please", you begged with such a small voice that sounded so pure yet sinful in his ears. "Moan, my fucking name, princess", he grunted.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Please, Tooru. I'm so near. Please.."

Oikawa rubbed on your bundle of nerves to the right rhythm that made your legs shake afterwards. And when you felt it coming, a loud gasp escaped your pretty mouth. You immediately covered your mouth while Oikawa smirked, seeing you being in a guilty pleasure.

"Hey, are you okay?" the person next to your shower stall asked out of concern. Your heart racing to the thoughts of being caught by your teammates.

"Y-yes, I'm fine. The water's just boiling! That's all!" you lied through your gritted teeth. You stared into Oikawa's eyes, "Please. We can't get caught in here."

Your pleas have never sounded so desperate. Were you that terrified? That only drove him to make you scream his name louder. He scoffed, "As if that's my current concern, baby. I don't fucking care."

Oikawa's stubborn, that, you have to admit. He's one cocky bitch, but what can you do? Ask him to leave when your cunt was begging to be impaled by his pretty cock?

You grunted softly. Your hands on both sides of the shower stall as you let out another deep sigh. "Fuck it. Tooru, get the fuck up," you said. Oikawa smirked when he knew what's your next move. He cockily laid his bare back against the cold marble tiles. He pushed his damp hair back to have a better view of his girlfriend about to give him head. You got on your knees and situated your face in between his legs.

Using your spit as the lubricant, you stroked his hardened member with your bare hand. Oikawa hissed at the sudden contact with your hand. And when your finger brushed over his slit, he let out a small moan. "Fuck, princess, if you messed this up", he threatened you. You rolled your eyes at him and started licking his cock up and down.

Your mouth has never felt so warm like it did at this moment. The beautiful look that's plastered across your face made him wanted to ruin you even more. The running water concealed the sloppy noise you were making while sucking your boyfriend's pretty cock. His girthy size made your jaw ached but did it hurt you so good.

Oikawa's hand kept on pushing your head down on his cock, eventually making you gagged. "Mmph!" Oikawa heard the muffled noises you were making. He couldn't simply care and continued pushing your head down. "Suck my cock, slut."

He's a pretty moaner, and the soft grunts coming out of his mouth sounded so pleasant to you. You could never forget how beautiful the noises he makes. You saw his face contorted with pleasure, eyes squinted, and his lips squirming. You scoffed, knowing too damn well that he's near, and you were doing a good job. Your free hand rubbing his inner thighs up and down crucially slow to help him to reach his climax faster.

When you felt his cock twitched in your mouth, you took his cock out with a loud pop. "I'm- fuck- I'm coming", Oikawa grunted softly as his hand tugged on your hair. You used your hand to pump his cock to help him finish. Before you knew it, his hot and thick spurts of cum landed on your face. Your eyes shut closed when you felt it hitting your face.

"Angel, you look so fucking beautiful", he praised you with his thumb caressing the sides of your face. He helped you to get up and cleaned his cum off of your face. "I have to reward my angel for being such an obedient slut for me today, hm?" he pulled your waist closer to his body. You gave him a flirtatious smirk, "You can do better than that, Tooru. Come on."

He scoffed, "And now you think you're in charge? Who the fuck do you think you are, slut?" he gave your cheek a harsh slap. The sound of the slap shocked everyone in the locker room, but they thought it was nothing, just the sound of people showering. You winced in pain, "Tooru, fuck that hurts."

He smiled in satisfaction. Oikawa pushed you against the cold marble tiles once again, turning the shower to maximum pressure. The water hitting his back and your naked body. He fondled your breasts with his bare hand before twirling your hardened buds with his index and thumb. You cried out in pleasure, begging him to go faster in your mind.

"Tooru. I need your cock. Please," you begged shamelessly. Oikawa laughed sarcastically before he attacked your lips with his. When his possessiveness takes control over his mind, he easily forgets to show you that you are loved. He forgot to kiss you and reminded you that you're lovely and beautiful today. All because his jealousy took control.

"Damn it. Sorry, I was harsh," Oikawa whispered in your ears after kissing you passionately. He caressed both sides of your face. His lust-filled gaze has now turned loving and softer than before. He kissed your forehead, "Sorry, baby."

You felt even guilty because you didn't say sorry before things escalated quickly. You grabbed his hands and squeezed them firmly, "It's okay, baby. We'll talk after this, alright?" You gave him a sweet smile, and it felt so nice to see Oikawa smiled again after being in a rage.

Oikawa gave you a quick nod before nudging your legs with his. He spread your legs wider so he could have better access. Spitting on his palm, he stroked his cock a few times before thrusting into you. You yelped when the stretch burned, but Oikawa shushed you and gave you time to adjust to the size of his cock. Your stretchy walls swallowed his cock with ease. "You can move now" you smiled bitterly.

He assured you with a sweet smile as his hips bucked into you. You slightly threw your head back when the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting your g-spot deep inside you. You clawed on his flexing biceps. Crescent shapes started to appear on his fair skin. "Fuuuck, Tooru", you let out a staggered moan. "Harder", you begged. You threw your hands over his shoulders and made eye contact with him.

Oikawa placed another soft peck on your lips before thrusting back into you harder as you requested. With another sway of his hips, you matched your rhythm to his to ensure both of you got the climax you guys longed for. He alternately caressed the sides of your face to playing with your clit to make you cum faster. His other free hand squeezed around your throat, and you were such a good girl for him. Taking his cock so well and obediently.

"Fuck, you're so hot", he whimpered. He looked down to where his cock was swallowed by your pretty pussy. Oikawa slammed his hips inside of you again, making you screamed in pleasure. Your hands ran down on his back before scratching on it while your mind was clouded with indescribable euphoria. "T-tooru, it's too much", you moaned.

Oikawa bit on your shoulder when he felt he's so close to releasing his cum inside of you. He knew you were close when your tone changed, and he kept on rubbing on your clit. You chanted his name like a prayer, asking him to go harder on you while his finger overstimulating your clit. "Hm- please please, please, I'm so fucking near. God-" your incoherent babbles stopped when you felt your orgasm washed over you.

You let out a breathy moan after you finished. Oikawa looked at you and smirked, "Fuck- I'm near", he grunted softly as he slowed down his pace. You could feel his thick spurts of cum painted your insides. He buried his face in the crook of your neck after he came. You kissed the top of his head sweetly before cupping his face in your hands.

"I love you so much", you heard him said out loud. Oikawa's soft gaze looked straight into your eyes, and he kissed you on the lips tenderly. "I'm sorry for the fight we had yesterday. It was immature of us. Today's your important day, and I just had to ruin it."

You shook your head gently, "No, no, no, Tooru. It's our faults for acting like kids. We should have talked about it like adults. I promise we'll talk about it after we clean up and get the hell out of this place, yeah?" You chuckled lightly when you saw his lips slowly forming into a smile.

He nodded, "Yeah, let's clean up." Oikawa then helped you clean up, and only he came out of the shower stall fully clothed. You looked around the empty locker room. How long were you in there with your boyfriend? There's no way they would listen to your moans, right?

You dried yourself and put on comfortable clothes you stored in your backpack. You checked your phone and saw tons of messages from your friend. Your eyes widened upon reading her text messages. Oikawa peeked over your phone and laughed. "They caught us, huh?"

"I know you're in there with Oikawa. I saw he got into the locker room before we got in. Thank goodness I was the only one who saw him."

Sent 6.48 p.m.

"For fucks' sake, Y/N. Keep it down. The whole room can hear you. What the fuck."

Sent 7:09 p.m.

"We all just laughed and pretended nothing happened. God, you guys, are a disgusting piece of shit. Get a room, fuckers."

Sent 7:15 p.m.

"We're taking our leave. Don't forget to lock up. Oh, yeah, don't forget your birth control, bitch. Nasty ass bitch. Gross. Text me when you're done. ASAP!"

"Jk. Text me when you're home safely."

Sent 7:31 p.m.

You brought your hands to your face. Your face turned hot in embarrassment. Your greatest fear had just become real, and everyone in your team now knows how nasty you are. "God, Tooru, please, we can't do that again," you said silently. You bit on your fingers because you were so embarrassed by what had just happened.

Oikawa let out breathy laughter, "And I'll gladly do it again."  He relaxed his tensed shoulders, "Relax, baby. They won't judge you, trust me. Let bypast be bypast."

You looked at him in disbelief, "Bypast your head!" you gave him a knock on the head.

He laughed when you got mad at him. "God, I am so in love with you." He grabbed your hands and squeezed them firmly. "It's okay. They won't judge. Trust me, baby. Now, let's lock up and send you home."

The following day, your team gave you a questionable look on their faces. They teased the heck out of you, especially your friend. God, you have never been so mad at your boyfriend for ruining your image. But, it's a risk you're willing to take.

"Nasty", your friend teased you by poking your sides. You chuckled, "Yeah yeah, whatever."

[in-ky]

An Old Scent [4] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: literally just seduction and smut for this chapter lol, biting, ~aggressiveness~, pet names, fingering, penetration, edging?, breeding kink, soft aftercare negan :)

A/N: so this is the first smut i've ever written! i hope it's alright, some feedback would be awesome :) i hope you guys enjoyed my first story! 3k words

The next few days were a blur. Negan would come in, give me food, water, and a backrub, and then leave me to my own devices. I wanted to ask him for more, but for some reason I never did and he never tried anything. That wasn't to say he didn't want to. I could tell that my smell alone had an effect on him. That was obvious by the noticeable bulge he sported when he got up from by bedside and exited my room. Yet the alpha had an insane amount of self-control. So I got myself through my heat.

When my head finally cleared of the fever, the first thing I did was text Bee.

'All good now.'

'Thank the gods. So??? How was he? Am I going to be an aunt?'

'I wouldn't know. It didn't happen.'

'You guys didn't fuck? Jesus, you should get an award for the most disciplined omega on the planet.'

'I wouldn't go that far haha. I still want him more than anything.'

'Well, who says you have to be in heat for that to happen?'

'Fair point. Talk to you later, xo.'

I tossed the phone onto my mattress and crossed over to my dresser. Now that I wasn't a moaning mess, I had some semblance of self-control. Which meant that I could seduce Negan in a way that I wanted. In a way that would make him pounce and fuck me until we passed out. He had gone out to the store for a restock of the pantry so I had about thirty minutes to get myself together for him. I foraged through my underwear drawer until my fingers wrapped around a pair of black lace underwear and a matching bra. My lips curled wickedly. If this didn't get him riled up, I didn't know what would. I laid out the set on my bed and moved to my closet for the perfect outfit. I was still wearing Negan's shirt and boxers. They were admittedly very wrinkled and a bit stained from all the fluid that had been produced from my body in the past few days, but Negan didn't seem to mind. I reminded myself to follow up on his orders before I put my plan into motion. I flicked through the hung up clothes before settling on a cute black dress with a sparse sunflower pattern. It was low cut and showed off all of my goods. Perfectly. I put that safely next to my undergarments and headed out of my room.

Peeling off the clothes was harder than I thought. They were a bit crusty in some areas, particularly the crotch, and I almost felt bad for ruining Negan's clothes. Almost. I folded them as best I could given their condition and placed them reverently in the center of his bed. I found a piece of paper and scrawled a note over the middle. I folded the paper in half and put it on the pile of clothes. I nodded in satisfaction and headed into the bathroom for my shower to scrub off the remaining fluids that still clung to my skin.

~~~

My heart raced as I heard the front door click closed. I could tell by the footsteps that it was Negan. That and the fact that all I could smell was that goddamn smell. The scent that could drive me crazy with just one breath. A sudden doubt edged at my mind. What if he didn't want me. What if I was misreading the signals? I shook my head roughly, clearing the negative thoughts. Even if he did reject me, I could play it off to the endings of my heat...besides, I was leaving in a few days and I could wait to be heartbroken in Colorado.

My heart stopped it's assault on my chest cavity when I heard his heavy steps ascend the stairs. He cleared his throat and entered his room. I could hear a small growl escape his throat. He had found my present. I closed my eyes and imagined him suffocating himself in my smell, much like I had when I saw the clothes in the bathroom. I forced myself back to the present when I heard the crinkling of paper. He gave a little scoff of laughter and I heard him cross the hallway and twist my door open.

"Hey what did you wanna talk abou-oh." He trailed off and stiffened as his eyes caught my body. I was laying on my side, one hand propping up my head, the other draped over my round hip. The deep cut of the dress exposed my breasts as well as some of the bra to him. I saw him drag his tongue over his lip and it ignited a fire in the pit of my stomach. I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the side of my bed, rising to my feet and sauntering over to him. I watched him watch my hips sway with every movement.

"I just wanted to thank you," I purred, voice dripping with seduction "for taking such good care of me." His jaw tensed as I placed my hands on his chest, running my palms up to his shoulders and pushing off his leather jacket. "I really appreciate it."

"What are you doing?" He whispered. I could tell it was taking every ounce of control he had to not grab me by the throat and pin me up against the wall. Little did he know, that's exactly what I wanted.

"I wanted to return the favor," I said, blinking wide eyes up at him "Surely there's something I can do to show you how thankful I am, alpha." His eyes closed and a growl rumbled through his chest at the name. My hands trailed down his chest to his abdomen. But before I could reach his belt, Negan grabbed my wrists. I pouted at him.

"Careful, omega," He warned, eyes dark "don't start something you're not willing to finish." My frown turned into a sultry smile. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him where his ear connected to his jaw.

"Please, Negan," I whimpered in his ear. His grip on me tightened "Alpha, fuck me."

"Shit, doll, you don't have to ask me twice." Negan growled. His hands grabbed my waist and hoisted me up around his midsection, hurriedly capturing my lips in a bruising kiss. He thrust his tongue into my mouth as he walked us over to my bed. It was all a blur as I fell onto my back and he moved away from the kiss. He bit and sucked at the skin of my neck, attacking my pulse point in the best way possible.

"Alpha." I moaned, tugging at his shirt. He grunted against my neck and continued his trail of love bites until he met the collar of my dress. Negan growled in disappointment at the lack of skin and used his large hands to tear at the fabric. I gasped as the cool air of the room met my heated skin. He let out a feral groan as he drunk in the sight of me in the black lace set.

"I hope you didn't like that dress." He mumbled as he tossed it over his shoulder, returning to his suckling.

"It was too small." I gasped, finding my hands entangled in his hair. "Ugh, Negan!"

"Fuck, you're beautiful." He hummed, one of his fingers trailing down the middle of my stomach towards my rapidly pulsing core. I whimpered as he got closer, hoping that he would dip beneath the waistband, but he continued over it, cupping my sex over my panties. "And so damn wet. Shit, darling, is this all for me?" My eyes fluttered open to see a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He was a bastard. But I was too aroused to care.

"Yes, alpha, all for you." I gasped, sitting up and tugging at the bottom of his shirt. I pushed it up his body and over his head. He lifted his arms and I pulled it off him.

"A little eager, are we?" He snickered.

"Negan, you don't know how fucking bad I need you," I whined "I was dying during my heat. I needed my alpha." I pulled him back on top of me, pressing my lips against his. My face was starting to burn because of his stubble, but it felt amazing.

"But I do fucking know, princess," He gasped between kisses, pulling away with one of my lips between his teeth. "It was so difficult not to flip you over and fuck you right then and there. I knew you wanted me, but I wanted to wait until you weren't some sex-crazed beast to admit that."

"Well I'm done now," I grinned, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him close. He hissed as his clothed erection rubbed against my pussy. "So fuck me right here and now." I bit his ear lobe and peppered kisses along his jawline until I met his lips again. He chuckled against me, lips curling into a smile.

"Can-fucking-do 'mega."

He unhooked my bra and tossed it to the side, capturing one of my hardened nipples in his mouth. His tongue added with the scruffiness of his beard was enough to make me toss my head back in pleasure. A string of profanities left my lips as he moved to the next one, kneading the one that he just left. My insides were burning and I needed him lower. Thankfully, he began to kiss down my navel, leaving bites to mark his path. When he reached my panties he used a combination of his teeth and his fingers to drag them down my legs. Once they were gone, he kissed up my calves and my thighs, stopping in front of where I needed him most. He planted one of his hands on my hip and used two of his other fingers to spread my lower lips apart. I let out a moan at the action, bucking slightly into his touch.

"Stay put for me, doll," He ordered before giving my hip a kiss "I know you want my knot but I've gotta get you ready first." I just whimpered in response. He slowly entered his two long fingers into my aching cunt. I let out a heavy breath and grasped onto his shoulder, digging in my nails. He deftly curled his digits upward, hitting that sweet spot almost instantly. I cried out in surprised pleasure. I figured Negan was experienced but he knew where everything was. He scissored his fingers and I gasped at the stretch. It had been a while since I actually had something moving inside of me. I could only imagine what his cock would feel like. The thought made my walls clench around him. When he brought his thumb up to press gently on my clit, I dug my fingernails deeper into his skin. He worked the pad in circles, bringing me to an edge I was very willing to jump off.

"Fuck, Negan, I'm..." I huffed, eyes screwing in pleasure.

"Do it baby, cum for your alpha." At his permission, I let the tight band snap and my legs shook with the intense orgasm that crashed through my body. I breathed heavily and arched my back. When the intensity subsided, I collapsed back and brushed the hair back from my face. I felt Negan remove his fingers from my core and I opened my eyes to see him lapping up my juices that had dripped down his palm. Another spark of arousal was already beginning to form.

"Finally got my taste," He moaned, licking his lips in satisfaction "and shit, doll, you taste even better than you smell."

"Please, Negan," I whimpered.

"Please, what?" He cooed, crawling over me and pressing a kiss to my forehead "Use your words, omega."

"Please fuck me, alpha."

He ripped off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a sigh of relief when he kicked the restraining fabric to the side. His hard cock was outlined against his boxers. He was right about needing to be prepared; he was huge, no doubt the biggest I had ever seen. A proud smile formed on his lips when he caught me ogling his goods.

"You ready for my dick?" He growled, tugging down his boxers and letting his cock spring free. It was angry, desperate for any sort of contact.

"Please," I gasped.

"Then present for your alpha." I rolled onto my elbows and knees, sticking my ass in the air and wiggling it in hopes that he would pay attention to my weeping slit. "Fuck you look so good." Negan grumbled, scooting closer to me. He ran the head of his cock up and down my entrance. I whimpered and pushed myself back eagerly. He gave me a slight hit on my ass cheek. "I'm in charge here, don't forget that."

"Y-Yes, sir." I said, fisting the sheets in my hands. Thankfully, Negan wasn't in a teasing mood and he slid himself into my pussy in one thrust.

"Fuuuuck," He hissed as he bottomed out, fingers gripping my hips harshly. I would have bruises everywhere tomorrow. But I didn't mind, it would be a reminder that this actually happened. "You're so goddamn tight. Shit." I clenched my walls around him and he let out a husky groan, causing me to smile. He wasn't completely in control. After I was adjusted to his size, I gave him a whimper as a signal to move. And he did. He pounded into me, hips ramming into my ass with every thrust. He fucked me like a wild animal and every time he buried himself inside me, his cock would hit that perfect spot. We moaned in sync with the sounds of skin slapping skin. One of Negan's fingers drifted down beneath himself and he furiously rubbed at my clit. The stimulation was enough to send me into another mind-boggling orgasm, but Negan shut that down quickly.

"Don't you fucking dare cum until I tell you to, understand me?" He growled, resting his head against my shoulder. I couldn't form words so I just nodded frantically. "I'm gonna pop my knot in you, omega. Gonna fill you up. Gonna breed you so good," He huffed between thrusts "You're gonna look so goddamn beautiful when you're round with my fucking pups. Then everyone will know you're mine." I moaned in agreement. I don't know what I moaned, but it was a combination of his name and a curse. A few thrusts later and I could tell that Negan was close. His breathing was heavier and his hips were staggering against mine and his knot was catching at the entrance of my pussy. "Cum with me, baby," He ordered "Let me feel you." With that I let go, letting my walls spasm around his thick cock. He came at the same time, spilling his seed deep within me. I milked him for every drop.

Out of instinct, I tossed my neck to the side, exposing my mating spot to the man above me. With a growl, Negan sunk his teeth into my skin, bonding us together. Fireworks shot through my body and I collapsed beneath him. Negan rolled us both over onto our sides, still inside of me. He lapped at the blood spotting at his bite mark. It took a few moments for us both to catch our breath, but Negan was the first to speak.

"I'm going to take such good care of you," He promised. It was the same tone that he had used at the dinner table when I asked him about the situation with his ex-fiancé. Sincere, vulnerable. "I might not be the best man, but I promise you I will always be there for you and whatever pups we might have. I've never felt like this before and I just...I don't want to fuck it up." I looked over my shoulder and saw worry in his eyes. I gave him a small peck on the nose.

"You won't fuck it up, Negan," I murmured, giving him a reassuring smile "Trust me, I won't let you." We both let out a soft laugh. "I trust you. You're my alpha. I know you'll be the best one you can be, and that's all I can ask for. You're lucky I'm a very patient person."

"Not in bed, you're not." He teased, giving me a wink. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "I don't want you to leave. You'll have to go back to Colorado soon. I don't know if I can handle my girl being so far away. Especially around other alpha assholes." I felt his grip tighten around me. I lifted a hand and stroked his arm.

"Don't worry about that yet," I sighed, closing my eyes. I would be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about it either. But that wasn't the most pressing issue we had to face. "Let's figure out how we're going to tell Rick first." Negan groaned and wrinkled his nose.

"Can you not mention your dad when my dick's still inside you?" He grumbled. I let out a giggled and kissed his knuckles.

"Sorry," I hummed "just saying, I'm not sure how well he's going to take it."

"Well, he better take it like a fucking champ." Negan huffed "'cuz if he doesn't he's gonna fucking regret it."

"Negan," I warned gently "He's my dad. You're his friend. We're mated now. It's gonna be weird for him. You gotta respect that."

"You really do bring me down to earth don't you," He sighed, nuzzling my neck "I guess I underestimated how much I need you." I let out a yawn and rubbed my eyes with a groan.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" He asked, genuine concern lacing his words.

"No, I'm just tired," I giggled "I haven't been fucked that good before."

"Damn straight you haven't." He smirked. Negan gave my neck a kiss and pulled himself out of me. "You get some rest, I'll clean us up and then we can cuddle. When we wake up I'll make you anything you want, deal?"

"Deal."

Not how I expected my summer trip to go, but I'm very happy it ended like it did.

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 2 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school’s resident bad boy…. Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don’t like don’t read XD

wordcount : 3k

a/n: honestly overwhelming response for the first part. thank you so much 💜💜💜😳

here's the second.

somehow, this took up a new genre for itself while editing and became sort of a bit enemies to friends to partners in sin.

that is to say, I have a template for this but this could go any ( dirty ) way.

let me know if you like this and are curious to know how things play out.

also, spot the cameo. it's so dumb but still. I couldn't think of anything else.

enjoy.

1 2

Paranoia was an old friend of yours.

Very real, very scary and not very nice to you, your peace of mind or your tested soul.

In your head, you already played out a million different ways the image you’d spent years building could come falling apart.

All because of him. Jeon Jungkook.

Though much to your surprise and fortune- he didn’t tell anyone.

You spent the entire weekend fretting over nothing.

It was almost like none of it ever happened.

Like your parents weren't about to tie the knot soon. Like you weren’t about to become step siblings.

Like he didn't walk in on his said step sister to be masturbating in front of a camera.

In the aftermath of that inexplicably humiliating incident, you had to make up some dumb excuse to satiate your viewers for ending the stream so abruptly.

It was your cat they heard speaking, you told them.

Cats don’t speak of course, certainly not in a deep baritone. But they were effectively distracted by the string of full nudes you posted soon after that.

Those few accusatory comments saying that you did have a boyfriend after all were buried by those coming from very horny people who were over the moon about the little apology gift.

That was out of the way, but you had a more pressing matter at hand.

That night, Jungkook had walked out after saying what he had to say without another word, leaving you feeling stunned and oddly cold.

It was like all the heat in your body just ceased to exist the moment he closed the door behind him and left you there all on your own. You didn’t even get to finish but that was beside the point.

The point was, you thought that meant like with many other things, and as people should since this was a free world, he didn’t give a shit what you did with your free time or your body.

But as the days progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were gravely mistaken.

Because contrary to that, he seemed to be up to something.

These days, he came around very often. Completely unprovoked and on his own accord.

It didn’t help that your mom loved having him around and feeding him.

Sometimes he was there for lunch after school. Other times he was there to fucking read the books in the study.

It was all ridiculous and quite honestly it was starting to get on your fraying nerves.

He didn’t even live there! You grumbled in pure frustration internally every time your mom asked you to add an extra plate for him on the dining table. This was your place!

Intentional or not he seemed to just love spending his time at your house for some reason.

But that just wouldn’t do.

The thing was you didn't know how to tell him you’d like to have the peace of mind he’d robbed you of by being all up in your living space every other day back.

He couldn’t just keep coming around.

Things were awkward enough without you having to see him often so already in between fleeting glimpses at school and lingering glances over the occasional dinner.

He might have been able to play it cool because it didn’t matter to him but this was a big deal for you.

He knew your secret and what else were you to do but be on edge and fidgety around him even though it seemed like he wouldn’t say a word of it?

But in the end, you couldn’t voice out your concerns. Not to him and certainly not to your mom.

So you were stuck here.

In between a massive rock and a very hard place.

Forced to endure even though you really felt like you’d been pushed past your limit.

Because he was there all the time.

For the most random reasons doing the most random things at the most random places at the most random time.

One time he had been casually listening to music while smoking by the pool and stroking the strings of his damned, matte black guitar.

You had been so stressed from all the work at school with the elections for new committee members amongst the juniors coming up so you thought to go for a swim to relax your self.

You honestly thought no one was around.

It was a Wednesday at noon so your mother was at lunch with some friends from high school. Plus, in the back of your mind, you’d reasoned that Jungkook usually only ever came over when she was around.

So you put on your best little bikini, grabbed a floatie and a soft drink and you went out.

Only to pause when you saw him sitting on one of the white lounging chairs, just looking at you with his earphones on, fingers having stilled mid strumming with a soft veil of smoke over his face.

You didn’t need to think twice to turn back.

There had been something about how his heavy lidded gaze took you in through the smoke as he did that thing where he cocked his head to the side that made you step back and quickly go back in.

You felt yourself get impossibly hotter when you realized you were probably giving him an eyeful of your poorly covered ass in motion.

You knew he was looking. You could feel his stare. Heavy. Intent. Dark. Swirling.

Like when he'd walked in on you.

You were hot and bothered the entire day.

In the end you couldn’t get anything productive done with a straight mind. And it was all his fault.

.

It took you about two weeks to crack.

That particular evening you were decided on telling your mom about this dilemma you were in.  

Coincidentally, your mom had gone and invited him and his dad over for dinner.

Great. Just great.

You had no choice but to deeply consider the possibility of having to spill the beans another time.

Because choosing now to tell your mom meant you would probably need to tell his dad as well since they were attached at the hip every time he came over.

But no, you wouldn’t expose him in front of his father too. You weren’t cruel. Also you didn’t need the school's menace resenting you for making his strict, uptight dad turn on him.

If he didn’t have a reason to expose you before, he certainly would have one if things spiraled out that way.

So you bit your bitter tongue.

This time around, dinner was a more relaxed affair.

The weather was nice so your mom decided on a barbeque at your back yard.

This meant you wore a flowy sun dress like your mom did and he wore a loose navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and some black casual beach shorts.

His tattoos were on full display.

You stared.

You were only distracted by them and how the patterns dance on his skin when his muscles flex as he flips whatever he is cooking on the fire because she’s never seen them in full before, you strongly reasoned.

Even with his sleeves rolled up when he was uniform, you'd only seen what he had on his forearm briefly other than the ones on the back of his hand.

That night didn’t count. It was too dim to see well. Also, that night technically didn’t exist.

Your eyes were particularly drawn to the little something peeking out the collar of his shirt.

You were too busy trying to figure out whether the curling ink around his collar bone was the flick of flames or the end of a dragon’s tail to notice that he’d lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe at the dots of sweet at his brows.

When you do, you suddenly found yourself being given an eyeful of impossibly ripped, ridged pure muscle.

You almost dropped your glass like you did your jaw.

What the holy fuck?

At that exact moment, he lifted his gaze and caught you staring.

He was probably expecting you to look away. Any decent human would expect that if they caught someone staring at them so openly. Gawking, to be completely honest.

But you didn’t. You quickly recover, pulling yourself together, and you met his gaze squarely.

You clutched the drink in your hand tight. Your pride wouldn’t let you look away.

In your own way, it was your little pay back, weak as it was.

He held your gaze with an unreadable look on his face for a moment with that signature slight tilt to his head and an added lift to his brow, before he looked away. Wordlessly, he let his shirt fall to push his hair back with his hand and went back to grilling.

You let herself breath then and tried not to think about how his biceps flexed at the motion, how his hair slicked back made him look even more dangerous and how the little smirk you caught on his lips was making you feel things she shouldn’t be.

.

Your mom suggested you all hang out at the pool once you were done eating.

You hadn’t been there since that day with him and quite frankly, you would rather not be.

Not with him.

You knew your mom had a swimsuit underneath her dress. She made you wear one as well.

She probably told them to come prepared for a swim too.

Just thinking about it made you short circuit.

You tore your gaze away from where he was standing with his father at the poolside, staring blankly at the surface as the older man talked to him about something.

You'd just come back from clearing the table with your mom.

When you guys got close enough, the men look your way. Jungkook’s eyes immediately landed on you. Meanwhile you just stare at your mom, trying to ignore his inexplicably fixed attention on you.

‘It’s shame we can’t swim.’

Your mother said, reaching for her boyfriend’s hand. She gave Jungkook a soft, apologetic smile.

‘Maybe once the weather is not so chilly.’ She sighed regretfully. ‘If I had known you were sensitive to the cold I would have suggested something else.’

‘It’s fine.’ Your eyes flicker to him. The smile he puts on is small and polite. ‘I’m not a very good swimmer anyway I’m afraid.’

‘Nonsense.’ She dismissed in good nature. ‘I heard you were quite the athlete in middle school. It’s all your father ever talks about sometimes. Right, honey?'

His father just grumbled.

You couldn’t hide your surprise at this revelation. You didn’t know this before.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then he smiles a little with a shrug.

‘That was in the past.’

Your eyes just glided to him when he said that.

The tug at his lip looked wry and sad.

You’d never seen him like this before.

Solemn. Sombre. Not serious or intimidating or indifferent.

It felt like you were viewing him in a new light.

.

You settled on drinks by the pool. It was what your mom does to lighten things up.

It seemed like the gloom from earlier wasn’t all part just a part of your imagination.

Her mother suddenly chirped in between the light conversation.

'Why don't you guys get together and have a little group study?'

You suppressed the urge to groan and roll your eyes to the back of your head. You knew what she was trying to do and you wanted no part in it.

You had the words no way sitting at the tip of you tongue.

You had the words no way sitting at the tip of you tongue.

He beat you to it.

'That sounds nice,' he dared to say, even politely addressing your mom with Mrs. alongside her surname in the end uttered just the way she liked. 'I'd like that.’

You gawked at him in disbelief. Complete and utterly speechless.

Was he insane ??

'Doesn't it? Great!' Your mom is over the moon. 'Dear, take him to the study. You guys can do your teenager things and get along over books there.'

.

Your mom was loving and caring and she only ever wanted the best for you. You knew this.

Maybe she wanted them to get to know each other. Or maybe she just wanted to have some alone time with her man.

Either way, she practically shoved you two into the house with so much enthusiasm you wondered if she really loved you because suddenly you found yourself stuck inside your house with the last person you wanted to be with and you did not feel safe or rested.

The walk up the spirally stairs to the study had got to be one of the most intense, dragging moments of your whole life.

He remained a few steps behind you all through out the journey, following your lead in his own leisured pace.

A few steps too damn far behind in your opinion.

From that angle, you had a strong inkling that he could see your underwear from beneath your dress.

You knew this because you were familiar with what it felt like when he was staring.

What you couldn’t quite explain is why you didn't do a thing about it.

.

If awkward silence could manifest into a solid form for being so intense, there would have been a third occupant in the room the moment you two walked into the study.

It would’ve been so massive, all the high shelves and wooden tables lined up would have been demolished.

Jungkook remained the quiet person he was, looking around and skimming through the books on the shelves.

You were standing a safe distance away from him, absently doing the same. The books were interesting and all but you were admittedly more taken by the ink on his skin.

Up close you could clearly see the artistic patterns and symbols etched onto him.

While staring at the tats on his knuckles you couldn't help but also notice that the titles he picked up were rather complex.

Certainly not the kind of thing even high intellects reached for. Evidently, those tomes had been collecting dust in there for ages.

You were decidedly curious. Itching to ask. Hell, dying to know.

You dived before you could overthink it and find reasons not to satiate your rabid curiosity.

'You like Reader?' he paused and looked at you from the corner of his eyes. At his questioning look she gesture to the book he was holding. 'That's the third book of theirs you picked up.'

'Yeah.' he said casually, nodding a little while flipping through it. 'Their books are nice.'

A crippling lapse of silence ensues.

You tore your gaze away from his profile to stare at the titles in front of you with a burn at your cheeks, fiddling with the polished spines.

How fucking awkward. All of this.

He probably felt the same.

What were you even doing?

You thought about telling him to ignore your mom’s attempt at trying to make the two of you get along. He obviously wasn’t looking for company or a friend. Quite frankly, neither were you. Certainly not from him. You were just trying to be not rude. Something you aren’t really surprised he probably failed to understand in all honesty.

But then he spoke, dragging you out of your reverie.

'What about you?'

Your head shot up and you found that he was standing a lot closer than before, having moved to reach for yet another complicated book to idly browse through at the top shelf.

This close, you could can smell him. Soft mint and clean soap and moonlight, not smoke. He disregarded the pages in his hands to give you a side way glance.

‘What do you like?’

There was a perpetual spark swimming in the dark depth of his eyes. It was striking. Pretty even.

When he lightly raised a brow at you, your thoughts jumbled all over before it fell back into place and you realized you were staring very openly.

But this time was different from the last time. When he had been miles away, flashing you his ripped abs.

In your reverie, you hadn’t notices that he had leaned a little to meet your eyes, and that he was real close. Like real close, looking at you intently with his head cocked to the side questioningly, like he was wondering what was going on inside your head. You could feel his breath fanning your face.

Shit.

'Uh,’ you scrambled for an answer, quickly tearing your gaze away from him to appraise the bookshelf. Your face felt like it was on fire. Considering how he hadn’t moved, he could probably see just how blazed in the face you were. Out of pure instinct, you grabbed a random book and shoved it into him to make some space in between your bodies.

Maybe with a little too much force. There was a dull thump and it made you wince.

'This.’

You hated how squeaky and breathless you sounded. Like you’d just ran a marathon. Might as well have, with how hard and fast your heart was pounding.

Jungkook took it from you, and you allowed yourself to look at him as he looked the cover over, completely fine, like you hadn’t just smacked him in the chest with a book.

The corner of his lips lifted a little as he flipped it over, cocking his head the other way before he chanced you a glance, making you blink rapidly and stand on edge.

'You sure?' he asked, sounding pretty amused. You were confused for a moment until he held  it up for you to see, flashing you a full on toothy grin like you’d never seen on him before. 'You like books about horse gentilia?'

The jump in your chest was something you quickly dismissed as being one of sinking dread rather than anything else.

All the color that had been congesting your face washed away.

If there was a time you truly wished the ground would swallow your entire existence whole, it would be right then and there.

 

word is telling me I made up the word genitilia but I’m pretty sure it’s real because it just rolls off the tongue ( smooth ) like butter like a criminal under the cover.

the hole is one of the recurring characters so please be nice to it.

alot of things happening here if you squint and look closely.

any-whomst've, hope you all liked it. let me know if you did and I don't know come say hi? 😳 have a nice day 💜

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 4

18 + Minors DNI Please Check Rules Before You Follow

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!Reader (brief reference to Dabi x Hawks)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut, allusion to nausea (once), brief sacrilegious language (dabi), mentions of alcohol (dabi), mentions of smoking (dabi), dabi is just a whole warning of his own, gender neutral pronouns for reader, fem cause they're called a woman as an insult, Shiggy is an asshole, grinding, degradation,

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which a project is completed and a new one begins

AO3 Mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged)

Your project was almost complete.

In some ways, it sort of felt like the end of an era. To Tomura, who was a creature of habit by nature, it was doubly strange to imagine no longer spending hours a few days each week locked away in your little study room with you bugging him to teach you simple html and him not-so-discreetly sniffing your hair.

He still hadn’t asked you out or whatever he’d been trying to do, much to Dabi’s chagrin. And because of this, Tomura was consistently plagued with the feeling of time running out.

You were supposed to meet today for probably the last time seeing as the presentation was coming up at the end of the week. He knew it was now or never at this point. If he didn’t fucking say something now, he never would and then he’d have to live with the same his roommate wouldn’t let him live down.

So instead of heading directly to the library after class, Tomura took the old route back to his apartment and shot you a quick text—praying to the fucking boner gods, as Dabi called them, that you’d take the bait.

would you mind putting the finish touches on shit at my place?—

there’s some parts i gotta do from my desktop—

That wasn’t completely a lie. It was nicer working from his pc setup, but before he wouldn’t have let you come anywhere fucking near there. Not until he’d finally accepted that you’d wormed your way into his brain somehow and he couldn’t live another day not knowing what your tongue tasted like.

bitch (endearing):

—no problem

—what’s your address?

Tomura’s heart fucking pounded mercilessly against the bony prison of his ribs. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to some good old fashioned anxiety, but he’d never felt a strange stirring in his stomach quite like this. Like he might puke, but in a good way.

He quickly sent back his street and apartment number, and waited on the corner until you texted back that you’d be there in an hour before he rushed inside.

“What the hell are you doing, creep?!” Dabi snapped at him when he burst through the door and yeeted his backpack onto the kitchen table.

Tomura didn’t answer, just made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door. He doused himself in record time, unbothered by the hot water causing red, patchy flare ups to bloom over his skin. He was almost disgusted with himself for putting in this much effort for someone like you. Someone being definitely kind of a slut if the way you dressed was a good indicator. But he just kept thinking about the way your hair or skin smelled so goddamn good when you leaned in close and he wanted you to be obsessed with him in the same way. Wanted you to want to bury your face in his neck and breath him in.

When he stumbled out into the hall moments later, towel drying his hair roughly, Dabi was taking a shot over the sink.

He looked at Tomura like hell had frozen over.

“Two showers in like a month?” he mused, sucking his teeth as the alcohol slid down his throat. “What’s the occasion? The fucking, second coming of Christ?”

“Well the bitch is coming over so…”

“Oh, that is a fucking miracle,” Dabi whistled and knocked back a second shot.

Tomura glared, stepping into his room and tossing his towel aside to tug on his nicest pair of black joggers and t-shirt that gapped a bit at the front, showing off a large expanse of his chest. It made him a bit nervous even just looking at his reflection but you definitely stared the few times he’d taken off his hoodie while you were working, so the risk seemed worth the reward.

“Yeah, well you’re gonna have to piss off for the night,” Tomura shouted into the kitchen as Dabi sauntered over to lean against his doorframe.

“You know, I conveniently do have a dick appointment with my own bitch, but now I don’t want to go.”

His tone was teasing, eyes hooded and clearly enjoying how flustered Tomura was already before you’d even gotten here. Tomura moved to snatch another pillow and do battle but Dabi raised his hands up quickly in defeat.

“Oh no, no, I just fucking did my hair for this Keigo asshole you are not gonna ruin it with that petty shit,” he shot back and disappeared somewhere into his own room. “I’ll be out of your greasy ass hair don’t worry.”

Tomura seethed and bit back of reply of his hair for once not being greasy as hell, but the multiple cum stains—both his and his nasty fucking roommates—marring the comforter caught his eye.

“Ugh,” he mumbled and balled the whole thing up, shoving it under the bed and spreading out one of his merch blankets from that manga you both liked.

Hopefully you wouldn’t think that was too cringey, but he had definitely seen your room plastered with merch in the background of your social media profiles which he totally did not stalk at all and maybe jerk off to on occasion.

The rest of his room was quickly cleared by a combination of shoving random crap into his closet and filling up their recycling bin to the brim with empty energy drink cans. He tackled the kitchen next which wasn’t as hard as he’d expected. Neither he nor Dabi cooked all that frequently, so the dishes weren’t an issue and the vague, lingering smell of whatever the fuck Dabi had been smoking early was cleared out a bit by leaving the balcony door ajar.

He checked the time on his phone obsessively, about ready to pound on Dabi’s door and throw him out on the step when the man in question emerged on his own—black platform boots donned with his ass hugging ripped jeans and a loose tank top.

He had on fucking eyeliner.

God and he thought Tomura was being desperate.

“What? Wishing you’d locked this down first?” Dabi sneered, grabbing his jacket from the rack and shoulder checking Tomura on his way to the door.

“I—” he stammered for a second, bristling as Dabi towered over him a bit in those fucking boots. “No, asshole, just leave before they get here.”

But at the exact moment that Dabi rolled his eyes and flung open the door, Tomura’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Looking up in mingled horror and embarrassment, he watched the door hit the wall and reveal you, a little more casually dressed than usual looking stunned as Dabi grinned down at you with pierced lips.

“Hi, I’m-” you started but Tomura’s live-in nightmare cut you off.

“Oh I know who you are, dollface,” Dabi wiggled his fucking eyebrows at you, clearly playing up the dramatics as much as possible to a degree even Tomura didn’t think he could pull off. “Name’s Dabi—”

“Uh, yeah and he was just leaving,” Tomura hissed and placed his shoulder firmly in the center of his roommate’s back, launching him onto the welcome mat as you side-stepped through the door.

“Yeah, see ya later creep,” he fucking winked as the door slammed shut in his face.

Tomura’s cheeks burned in the following silence which was only broken by your quiet chuckle. He noticed you did that a lot. Laughed at things without even thinking about whether it would sound weird.

“He seems like a lot,” you mumbled and glanced around at the living room/kitchen/foyer of his tiny apartment.

“Yeah…”

He thought he might feel the same sort of disturbance he usually did when Dabi brought his dates home but you seemed to fit easily into the space, unobtrusive but bright against the dingy walls.

“So, should we get to it?” you asked with a wry smile, spinning to face him and silhouetted by the sun set filtering in past the balcony.

He may not have felt the usual discomfort of intruders in his space, but his hands shook where he clutched at his thighs nonetheless. And just like always, if you noticed the bunched up fabric and the not so slight tremor in his bony arms, you didn’t say a thing about it.

You looked so good propped up on his bed, back against the wall and legs dangling off the sides as the now strangely comforting sound of your furious typing filled his room. It had been a few hours now, and Dabi had been true to his word, seemingly gone until tomorrow morning. The room was illuminated only by your screens and his small desk lamp that lit up your legs like a stage spot light.

His mind fogged over more than once with the fantasy of laying in between them.

“I just shared the final bit of script,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

The notification pinged at the top of his screen and he hummed in acknowledgement, plugging in your last pieces of text and saving the program.

And just like that.

It was over.

“I think we’re done,” Tomura whispered.

He didn’t really mean to say it so softly, but it felt strange to talk at full volume so he rasped out the words, knowing you wouldn’t care how shitty his voice sounded.

There was a creak and soft footsteps behind him as you shuffled off the bed and over to his desk. Your hands rested way too close to his shoulders than necessary while you leaned over his chair to look at the finished product.

It was still a little rough around the edges but Tomura found himself feeling a swell of satisfaction now that it was complete. All things considered, you’d come up with a pretty damn good concept and he liked knowing he played a role in helping it come to fruition.

The piece you picked was weird as shit. Some political satire about eating babies, lots of juxtaposition about the private life versus the public self and some bullshit rants on the nature of humanity blah blah blah.

It actually reminded him of you a little bit, now that he thought about it as he took advantage of you position to stare intently at your eyes scanning the screen. Not the eating babies thing, but the whole private self stuff.

In the half semester he’d spent locked away with you in quiet rooms and noisy, dimly lit basements, he could see such a stark contrast between the you he’d known from class all those weeks ago and the you currently sighing in relief over his shoulder.

Softer, more real—not so Stacy, bimbo, pick me slut like he’d always imagined you to be.

“Damn, we did it my guy,” you nodded, clearly impressed with yourself and him as well, which had Tomura’s chest puffing out just a bit under the attention. “I could fucking kiss you, I thought we’d never get it done.”

You turned to him, eyes closed in a half laugh but Tomura was so far from laughing. Cause you were really, really fucking close and he could smell you again and you’d been chewing that fucking gum cause it was hot on your breath. He knew, he really did, that you were kidding, that this was just a thing people said when they were relieved but he couldn’t help the weird, deer in the headlights stare that his face froze in.

Blinking, you raised your eyebrows at him questioningly when he didn’t make some crude comment about your chest brushing against his arm or shrug you off like he might have before.

And then you got this knowing, little mischievous look that reminds him far too much of Dabi for a split second before you pressed your face just an inch closer.

His eyes flicked down instinctively to your lips and his face burned when realized there was no way you didn’t see how he looked at you. Shockingly, despite the churning in his gut and the shaking in his legs, Tomura leaned forward just a bit too, working up enough scant courage to maybe close the gap. But then you started laughing?

It bubbled up quietly in your chest, more of a giggle than anything else.

You were laughing and shaking your head and his stomach fucking dropped to the ground and his face was on fire cause you were laughing and that meant he’d been fucking played like a goddamn fiddle but—

But then you gave him this faint smile and you weren't laughing anymore, because you were kissing him.

You were fucking kissing him.

Which, while yes he had set out to have this be the end goal of the night, he hadn’t actually believed it would ever happen. He’d never felt it in his bones like he thought he was supposed to.

And holy shit your lips were so soft??

So soft and smooth with no cool, sharp metal poking or pulling at the splits on his. It was like fucking crack, or what he imagined crack might be like with the way your mouth just glided against his. It was so easy to follow you, which was good cause he didn’t have a goddamn clue what he was doing for the most part. But you made it feel simple, and you even ran your tongue over the little scar that bisected his lips in this painfully adorable way that had Tomura pitching a tent in his pants like lightning.

God and when you pulled back and just enough to look at him again:

It was like every one of those cutesy, shojo manga suddenly made sense. The panels where the main characters look at each other and flowers bloom off the fucking page while they stare with those dark, hungry eyes—

Yeah.

Yeah he got it now.

And he was gonna ride that wave while he had it. So Tomura steeled himself and surged forward, grabbing both your arms and smashing his face much less gracefully against yours. He stood and you straightened with him, that same half giggle slipping out in the gaps where your lips parted on his as he clacked your teeth together and pulled back at the jarring sting.

“Eager are we?” you had that stupid smile on your face again but he honestly didn’t care anymore if it was an act or if your face really just looked like that with no fucking ulterior motive.

“Shut up,” he muttered, trying to catch your lips again and you mercifully let him.

Tomura nearly fucking came in his pants when you licked into his mouth and oh fucking god he really could taste the gum and that loud ass shit you were always drinking. Dabi was right, this was a fucking miracle.

Did other people always taste this good or was it just you?

He responded enthusiastically to say the least, sucking your tongue into his mouth and letting out a choked little noise when you prodded the back of his teeth. The movement of your legs, pulling him back towards the bed went mostly unnoticed until he felt himself tipping forward, landing with a thump on top of you as you both tumbled onto his mattress.

Tomura’s lips wondered boldly down your throat, smelling the soap or lotion or whatever the hell made you so fucking baby smooth compared to him and he actually growled into your nape when you laughed again.

“God, what the fuck is so funny?” he sounded muffled from where he was tonguing at the fleshy joining of your neck and shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” you pressed your lips against the peeling crown of his head and that alone made up for the interruption, “I’m just basking in the glory of being right.”

“About?” Tomura nipped at your skin once before lifting his chin to rest on your sternum.

“I just always thought you were sorta into me, but it was hard to tell cause you’re so quiet about that kinda thing.”

“....oh,” he didn’t really have an argument for that so he didn’t try to fight you.

“Did you think I didn’t notice all the convenient excuses to touch me or like the fact that you’re mean as shit to everyone else but me?" you asked not unkindly as you stroked a hand through his hair, frizzy from being left to air dry. “I also got the vibes you thought I was a slut anyway and it wasn’t super clear if that was a turn on or not.”

He cringed a bit at the blatant way you acknowledged all ruder inner monologues about your character.

“Well, I did a bit initially,” Tomura glanced off to the side, suddenly finding the chipping paint much more fascinating. God he really wanted to get back to the good stuff. “But I don’t now…”

“Oh no,” you cupped his face, running a thumb against the cracked skin on his cheeks and didn’t cringe when the drying skin flaked onto your shirt, “that was a pretty astute assumption.”

“Uh, what?”

He felt his draw drop and you dipped your thumb past his front row of teeth, toying with the pooling saliva.

“All the better for you though,” you continued dragging his chest against yours so he could feel your nipples through his shirt, “cause that just means I know how to show you a good time, and I get the feeling you’ve never had that happen before.”

You punctuated your words with roll of your hips against the fucking iron rod in his pants. The noise that left Tomura was inhuman.

He thought back to the day you got partnered with him. How he thought it would be a fucking nightmare and Tomura wanted to let the record show that he officially retracted that statement. This was in no uncertain terms, actually a wet dream come true and he was sure Dabi would never fucking believe him unless he walked through the door right now.

“That works,” he stuttered around the finger in his mouth and you reared up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your lips found his again and he hummed in approval only cut off as you rolled so he was laying back and looking up. When you pulled back, he shivered at the way you raked your nails over his chest.

“So, you gonna tell me how much of a disgusting whore you think I am?”

[masterwords]

ain't no memory that ever gets old (2)

Summary: Hotch is arrested for the murder of Foyet

Warnings: Haley's death, grief, mentions of prior abuse, this is a dark one.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan.

Words: ~3k

Read on AO3: ain't no memory that ever gets old

**

Call JJ. That's what his gut told him, but he wouldn't. His phone was so far away from where he now stood, completely alone. It was funny, if he'd been put into this situation under any other circumstances, he would call Hotch. Mayday, mayday, I need your guidance. Your cool head. See, he could figure it out but it always took him a second longer to burn through the emotion and that second could mean the difference between life and death...calling Hotch circumvented that. Hotch didn't react emotionally.

Until he did. Until he beat a man to death with his bare hands. And Derek knew damn well that the story, the reason, it would all add up to self-defense. He had faith. Why else would he use his fists? Why else would he be beat to shit himself? He had his gun and...it just didn't add up. It was just that the missing fucking puzzle pieces were locked inside of Hotch's head and either he was burning them himself or something else was.

“Will,” Derek said, storming out of the building. He took that extra second and so far, no one had died, so he was still winning. Emotions in check. “Meet me out front of the precinct. I have something to do and I need your help...”

This was absolutely uncalled for, he knew it. He could take anyone from the force, anyone at all could help him make this arrest but maybe he would give Hotch this last little ounce of dignity. Of care. Maybe he was just fooling himself though. Hotch wouldn't be comforted, this wasn't for Hotch, this was for him.

Will was waiting with his jacket and a grim look on his face. Tired, he looked tired. Well, couldn't blame him. JJ had been gone a week on a case, and right on the tail end of a horrific week at the BAU..he was running on fumes like the rest of them. If JJ thought it was unfair to have to do Hotch's cognitive interview, and she did, Will could make the same argument here. He and Hotch had become friends over the years.

“I take it this isn't a social call,” Will drawled in his 1am accent. He smelled like he was bathing in coffee. “Where we headed Morgan?”

Derek couldn't say those words. He just shoved the warrant, hot off the presses, into Will's lap and waited until he read it all with his little flashlight. “No...” he muttered, re-reading like his eyes were playing tricks on him. “Not Hotch. I was there in that house...”

Derek still hadn't spoken, but he knew he had to. He had to say something. “His story has a lot of holes in it, and they're pushing for a complete psych eval but with the violent nature of the...they're just...”

“Yeah. Covering their bases. Making sure they look good at any cost. What about a 5150 though?”

Derek shook his head. “I called the Assistant Director before I called you. Strauss got me all riled up. He said that they considered a 5150, but the way he killed Foyet...they didn't deem it appropriate. They had enough to secure a warrant for his arrest...they're gonna explore every avenue in a search for the truth and all that other bureaucratic fucking nonsense.”

“Horse shit.” He said it more like shee-it and Derek thought it might be the first time he'd smiled all day.

They pulled up in Derek's SUV, right into the loading zone in front of the apartments, and let the vehicle idle for a minute. Both of the stared at the front door, the quiet unassuming building with all its lights out. A building full of old people, that was Hotch's favorite thing about where he lived. The apartment itself could have been nicer, the building super wasn't great at maintaining things or getting to work orders in a timely fashion, but it was quiet. And the neighbors kept to themselves. Of course they could have used a nosy neighbor or two when Foyet broke into his home and stabbed him nearly to death...how no one saw him or heard anything was absolutely beyond Derek, but that was the story they got from each and every person in his building.

“You want me to take the lead?” Will asked, his hand hovering over the door handle. Derek's heart thundered in its cage.

“Would you?”

They were silent after that, closing their doors as quietly as they could so they didn't disturb the neighborhood. This could go quietly. This could go fine.

Or it could go very, very bad. And as they walked up the steps and Derek opened the front doors, he felt a creeping cold dread. Jessica would be there, Sean was in town, this was about to be a show. No way anyone was sleeping through this.

And Jack.

God, he forgot Jack. “Will, we can't do it if Jack is in the room.”

Will nodded. “Understood. We'll ask him to talk in the hall.”

Easier said than done. The moment they were inside, Hotch knew. How could he not? Derek was standing there in his suit with a piece of paper in his hand and Will was in uniform. Wouldn't take a profiler to understand what was happening.

“The investigation didn't go in my favor.” Hotch said it so dryly that Will lost his nerve. There and gone in an instant.

“No, Aaron,” Derek whispered, craning his head toward motion in the hallway. Voices, hushed, a woman and a man. “It didn't.”

Sean and Jessica appeared in unison, wiping the sleep from their eyes like twins. Everything they did was a mirror of the other, from the sleepy messy hair to the exaggerated yawns. Jessica spoke first.

“Aaron, what's going on?”

Hotch looked down at his feet. Yeah, he'd go quietly, he'd let them cuff him...but he'd be damned if he was going to do the job for them. One of them was going to have to own up to what they were party to. He wasn't exactly mad at either of them, he was tired and hurting and he was furious at the Bureau...but Elle flashed through his mind, and his reaction to what she'd done, and he couldn't blame them. Hadn't he been right here once before? How much of it was them acting on order and how much was on their own instinct he wasn't sure, but given the looks of distress on their features he thought it was more of the first option. They were there, they had to know.

Except those few minutes of pure black. No one knew what happened and until he remembered...if he remembered...he might hang for it.

“I'm sorry, Jess,” Derek started. “We have to take Aaron into custody.”

He couldn't look at Hotch. All at once, the room went completely silent, he couldn't even hear breathing. Waiting for Will to step in, do the damn job, anything. They needed to get this over with while Jack was sleeping. This was a mercy, the only one they were likely to get. It was why he chose to do it in the middle of the night instead of interrupting their pancake breakfast.

“What the fuck is going on Derek?!” Sean's voice ripped through the silence, tore down the solemnity of the moment and made it into something ugly and volatile. Something explosive. Hotch turned his face toward Derek and they locked eyes, neither able to let go of the hold. So long now they'd been able to read eachother's thoughts, their feelings, it never took more than one look to know what to do, how the other was...but he couldn't read anything in Hotch's eyes now. They were blank, almost dead. Shut off.

“Sean,” Jessica hissed, elbowing him in the ribs, but it was too late. Yeah, he'd been here a few days now but he still forgot there was a kid in the house. Didn't take long to remember...sure Jessica reminded him with her pointy little elbow and that little puffing noise she made when she was frustrated, but then Jack's door opened and little feet padded down the hallway slowly. No one looked.

No one but Will who looked suddenly stricken and pale, like a brand new cop on his first beat. “Daddy?” Jack asked, his tiny fists balled up and rubbing at his sleepy eyes. He was confused and tired, walking into a situation hotter than a powder keg.

“Go to Aunt Jess, Jack,” Hotch replied too quietly, too calmly. His eyes, unfocused though they were, never left Derek's gaze. He was searching for anger, for accusation, for sadness...this nothing was eerie and unsettling.

“Daddy?” Jack began crying this time. He could feel the heightened emotions in the room and Derek cursed himself for taking so damn long. He should have just done the thing. Taken Hotch out into the hallway and been done with it. They were wasting time, they'd practically begged for this. Will, sensing the sudden necessity for movement reached for his handcuffs and held them a moment. Jack, at the sight of the handcuffs, began crying. Huge wracking sobs, scared of something he didn't understand. All he knew was that all of the adults in the room were acting strange and Henry's dad had the bad guy bracelets. That's what he called them when he showed them to the boys on play dates with Henry. Fancy jewelry for bad guys.

“Daddy's a bad guy?” he asked, sniffling up at Will. That did it..Will dropped them and scrambled to pick them up with shaking hands. Fuck. He was a seasoned police officer, he'd made gut-wrenching arrests before but nothing compared to staring at this little boy and intending to take his father away. Derek, struck by a sudden flash of dejavu...they'd all been there on that line...they'd all heard Jack ask that same question not so long ago about someone who really was a bad guy...he groaned and reached beneath his suit jacket, grabbing his own cuffs. He had to get them out of there, put everyone out of whatever fucking purgatory this was. He was rougher than necessary in his frustration, grabbing Hotch's arms one by one and pulling them behind his back, wrenching his shoulders to spare his wrists.

“Aaron Hotchner,” Derek said softly, into Hotch's good ear. Loud enough that everyone could hear but soft enough that he didn't sound too harsh. Or like he believed for a second that this was right. As if it mattered. “You're under arrest for the murder of George Foyet.” The rest of it went by without him even recognizing the words he was saying. Jessica picked Jack up and held him against her, but she was crying nearly as much as he was. Sean looked like he might take Derek's head off with his bare hands. Just rip it clean off of his neck.

He might have welcomed it rather than having to walk Hotch out of his apartment, away from people he loved, and toward the SUV. In handcuffs. Will was the last to go, gave his card to Jessica and told her he'd be in touch. By the book.

“I'm sorry,” Will offered, glancing first at Jessica and then at Sean. “I'm really not supposed to say this but...get in touch with his lawyer now. I don't know what they're charging him with but best to get on it right away. The Bureau's prosecutors don't mess around.” He knew that Hotch was tight with the DA, Hotch knew everyone there was to know, and if anyone could get out of this it was him...but things looked bleak and he didn't want to give her anything that might look like false hope.

“He um...” Jess started, handing Jack to Sean and nudging them back down the hallway for a moment of privacy. “He gets a phone call, right?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Will tipped his head and nodded solemnly, a barrage of apologies dancing on his tongue. He couldn't speak them to life again, though. She didn't even want the first one. She just wanted Hotch back.

They walked slowly, Will trailing them a few steps behind. Derek wasn't hurrying, he was trying to be gentle with one hand on Hotch's shoulder, the other holding both of Hotch's hands inside of his. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, as if he had any right. Hotch made no effort to show he'd heard, no movement, just let Derek help him into the waiting SUV silently. He'd given the Bureau all he had to give them and look where it got him. He'd sacrificed his life, his family, and now maybe his freedom for them.

The lights in the police station were harsh and hurt his eyes. Flinching at the shock, he looked down at his feet and realized with some sick amusement that he'd been arrested in his pajamas and slippers. Must look like a real criminal with his gray and green plaid pants and wool socks, but he supposed it looked better than a suit and tie. It might do him a few favors down the road if people didn't immediately see him as an FBI Agent once he was booked in.

“You want me to stick around?” Derek asked once Hotch was in the seat directly before Will's desk. He'd already yawned no fewer than six times in the last minute, and if he really stopped to count out the days, he wasn't sure when he'd slept last. Attempts didn't count. He'd gone through the motions but never managed to succeed. Will set a Styrofoam cup of coffee on his desk in front of Hotch and looked at Derek with weary eyes.

“Nah. You all just got back from a case, go home. We'll talk in the morning.”

“If you tell JJ...” He began solemnly, hoping just to plead for a little time. No details. He wasn't even sure how to face them all in the morning and being blindsided wasn't going to help any of them. He had to get his head on straight.

“I'm not gonna tell Jennifer. That's your job. You'll see her before I do, anyway. I'm pulling a double shift.”

Will didn't mind being left to book Hotch in, to process the paperwork, to set him up in a holding cell. They'd just cleaned one up from the drunk the night before, it was spotless and sanitized after a night of the walls being painted with 7-11 cheap hooch soaked sick. The bed was neatly made, and it was so far empty. He didn't have much hope that it would stay that way, he could feel that itchy vibration in the room...his men were out on their beats and the closer they got to the bars closing, the louder it would get in here.

For now, though, it was peaceful. He could fingerprint his friend, take a mug shot, book him in because it was his. And he could do all of that because he had to, but he couldn't tell his wife what he'd been party to. That the interview she did with him had led to the Bureau questioning his motives and culpability. Derek could walk away, go wherever he was going to go, do whatever he was going to do...but he would be the one to tell his team. On that, Will was unwavering.

Derek understood. Glancing at Hotch who was still just sitting in silence with his hands folded in his lap, he wanted to say something, anything. Nothing he wanted to say could be said. He had to look impartial, he had to play the game and pretend his heart wasn't breaking. He thought about sitting in that interrogation room in Chicago on the wrong side of the table, accusations lobbed at him faster than he could parry. And this wasn't the same thing, he had to remind himself.

He hadn't done anything. He was a victim. Hotch...well, Hotch was a victim, too, but he was more than that.

There was blood on his hands.

That didn't ease the pain of walking out of that station and leaving him there. It didn't fix the ache gnawing at his insides.

“Can I get you anything?” Will asked, settling into his seat. Hotch turned his solemn eyes up at Will and shook his head. He had the right to remain silent and he planned to do so. Opening up had been what got him here in the first place. Believing that after all his years of service, all the time he spent upholding his oath, had landed him face to face with a badge and bars.

“Alright. Look, I gotta get you booked okay?”

“I'm sure you have better things to do. That officer over there is reading a Stephen King novel. You don't owe me any favors, Will.”

Will tried to mask the hurt but it caught him too quickly. “As the arresting officer, it is my job...” He paused and sighed, dragging his hands hard down his face. “Look. Derek asked me to book you and hold you here for as long as we could. He's gonna try and undo this but it...we just need you to cooperate. Trust us.”

Hotch didn't smile, but Will could sense his wry amusement anyway. Trust them, after they walked into his home in the middle of the night and put him in cuffs in front of his family. Derek had thought it would be better, do it while Jack was asleep, a clean getaway. Jess could soften the blow in the morning without the kid having to see his dad in handcuffs. And it would have worked if not for Sean so it really wasn't all on them, but he would have to accept that Hotch would always see it that way. He could forgive but he couldn't forget. He couldn't wipe the sound of Jack asking if he was a bad guy from his memory.

“Are you sure I can't get you anything? This process can take a few hours.”

“I'm fine.” Hotch was well aware of how long the process could take, and what difference did it make anyway? He was in no rush to be shoved into a cell to sit and wait. He wasn't known for being especially verbose, but tonight he was keeping it as minimal as he could. He'd already had the same headache for over a week and it wasn't getting any better sitting in the police station.

At that point, Will figured he had no choice. He had to go about this like any other arrest so he booted up his system (he hadn't even been on shift long enough when Derek called to get settled...this was going to be the longest double of his life). Hotch sat in silence, studying his sore hands intently while Will entered him into the system. There were questions one after another, all answered monosyllabic and quiet, as little information as he was willing or needed to share.

By the time he was in the holding cell, things were getting noisier. Mostly woozy drunks ready to sleep off a bender and a few riled up men who used their fists to communicate after a few too many beers, and Will kept them separate from Hotch. He had to be careful not to give the appearance of special treatment, but the idea of putting Hotch in a jail cell so soon after his tremendous loss was just a little more than he could bear. If anyone were to ask him why Hotch got a cell to himself, he figured he could easily explain it...he was being charged with murder, after all. And does a murderer belong in the same cage as a drunk? For the drunk's safety, of course.

“I'll check on ya in a bit,” Will said, shutting the door to the cell and locking it. He couldn't bring himself to look at Hotch standing there in his pajamas watching him from the wrong side of the bars. “Get some sleep.”

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 15/?

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name.

Thinking about making parts longer so that I can at least finish a semester of Jason knowing Y/N before I do fic 2 of this continuity. Give it a better name, probably. I dunno

Warnings: Eludes to sex, Takes about Injuries, Mentions of Trauma, Refusal to acknowledge pain, Swearing, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

She could find herself lost in the way Jason walked for hours. He thought she was asleep when he threw on his slightly ripped boxers so he could walk to his desk. She didn’t know what it was that drew her in, maybe it was just the way that even after he had been stabbed that he could act like he owned the room.

She thought he was really, really, attractive. Like, really.  She couldn't think of times where she wouldn’t get lost in how he looked. His personality made it a lot better, too. She really liked how he chose to carry his personality, how he chose to carry himself. 

He turned to his bed after plugging in his laptop, it would take a while to charge, when he noticed she was staring.

“Your eyes will dry out looking at something so hot, Y/N. I’d be careful,” he joked, letting a large smile slip by.

“I’ll need heat-resistant goggled to keep this relationship going, damn.”

“Bruce can buy you some.”

“I think after his freak-out bout our situation, he wouldn’t be keen on that one, darling.”

He smiled at her, “What makes you say that? He clearly likes you.”

“That doesn't mean he wants to spend that much money on me.”

“I would spend that much money on you,” he grabbed the water bottle sitting at his desk and twisted the cap off.

“You have spent that much money on me.”

“Pretty girl, gets money, gets the pretty man,” he said before seeming to chug the entire bottle.

“You would probably find a way to drown while drinking water, honestly.”

“Ha, ha, baby. Funny.”

“You don’t have to tell me I’m funny for me to know I’m funny, Jay,” she joked, “Are you coming back to bed?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What the fuck, man.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have work to do for Wayne Enterprises,” he said.

“I just want to cuddle,” she jokingly wined at him.

“You’re a temptress, but I really have to do this.”

“Doesn’t your laptop take time to charge?” she asked.

“Yes it does, why?”

“Come here then.”

He sighed and looked at his laptop before smiling and coming over to his bed, “You’re lucky it’s charging slowly today, baby.”

He climbed into the bed beside her, she thought he forgot that she was naked but he didn’t.  He knew she was naked, he just didn’t want anything from her, he didn’t want a ‘fun night’ with his girlfriend, he just wanted the cuddling on a Thursday morning.

She had a headache, a massive one, and Jason noticed her wincing a lot and holding her head, he had seen these signs before, in Time Drake, his baby brother, who had a severe caffeine addiction.

“You alright?” he asked, nuzzling his nose into her shoulder.

“Headache,” she answered and winced again.

“Caffeine or medication?” he asked, trying to make certain that is was caffeine and not anything else.

“Caffeine.”

“I can always make you some coffee, Y/N.”

“If you're willing to leave this bed, could you?” she asked.

“I could, I could. I don’t want to leave this moment, but I guess” he said, sarcastically.

“I’ll owe you indefinitely,” she said as he got up and walked over to his dresser, scavenging for a pair of pants so he didn’t walk downstairs and possibly expose himself to his siblings.

“Do you want anything else while I’m down there?” he asked while putting on his pants, “I can always make you breakfast,” he said. 

“No, no, the coffee is more than enough, I swear.”

“You just want to spend more time with me, you simp.”

“That is true, that is so true.”

“I’ll be back in bed before you know it,” he walked over to her and kissed her forehead, taking in the bedhead and the way her eyes drowsed when she was tired, “Don’t pass out on me.”

“I can’t make promises I may not keep.”

“Then just keep me positive.”

She laughed and he walked out of the room. You could feel the way he was giddy about her as he walked out, from the way his grin wouldn’t fall to the way he bothered to get dressed, even if it was just pants.

No one thought they’d see the day that Jason Todd, the Jason Todd, would walk out of a room with a girl in it with pants on.

“Master Todd,” Alfred said as Jason walked into the kitchen, “One of these days, I ask of you, you and Miss Y/N should eat breakfast with the rest of us. And, it’s nearly 10:00, sir. You should be up sooner.”

“I can always count on you to parent me, Alfred,” Jason joked, “One of these days she and I will come down for breakfast, I swear,” he turned on the coffee machine.

“You don’t drink coffee, Master Todd.”

“No, I don’t. But she does.”

“My god, you’re whipped!” Tim exclaimed at his big brother.

“You’ll understand one day when someone you like this much is in your bed, Tim.”

“You didn’t even call me on my shit, who are you and what did you do with my brother?” Tim joked.

“I sold him to the devil in exchange for his rocking body and a beautiful girlfriend, moron.”

“How is your stab wound, Master Todd?” Alfred asked.

“Painful,” he said before looking in his foresight for Alfred’s reaction, when Alfred frowned, it broke Jason’s heart, he loved Alfred, “It’s gotten better, I swear. But it’s not ideal, either.”

“Master Richard says he should have watched you closer.”

“I don’t think he could have stopped it.”

“I could have tried,” Dick chimed in.

“Have you been listening in?” Tim asked when he turned to Dick.

“Are you that surprised? But Jase, you could have died, I could have done better, I could have stopped it if I just-”

“How many times do I have to say it isn’t your fault, Dickie?” Jason cut him off.

“I just promised to always protect you, and I failed my job.”

“You’re starting to sound like Dad, Dick,” Jason joked, trying to liven up the mood and stop his brother from crying. He needed to just distract them all from it, he didn’t want to deal with it, to talk about it all.

“Jase,” Dick paused.

“Dick, c’mon. I’m not dead. No one died. We’re all okay.”

“Jay, he has a point, no one is ready to lose you again, man,” Tim jumped in.

“To say the least,” Alfred finished.

“I love you guys, I do,” he said as he poured Y/N’s coffee, “And I get you’re scared that I’m going to die again,” he paused and sighed, “I don’t really know what to say, really.”

“You said really twice,” Tim joked.

“Listen here you little, literally, shit,” Jason retorted, holding his hand above Tim’s head like he was comparing heights, “I’ve enjoyed this, really. I can’t give up family bonding for anything, but you guys understand-”

“Are you ditching us for the pretty woman?” Dick asked.

“You would do the same, Dick.”

“Because I’m serious about Barbara.”

“And?” he joked as he walked off and back to his room.

Opening his door, he saw her, half-awake, laying in his bed. She had gotten up at some point to put on one of his shirts, it was cute. He liked the fact that she was wearing his shirt. He stared for a bit.

“Whatcha doing, Romeo?” she joked.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked as he walked towards his nightstand and put down the coffee before looking at her.

“Yeah, it is. If you mind, frankly, I don’t care.”

“Ha, ha. I don’t mind,” he said as he crawled back into bed with her while she sat up to drink the coffee, “Hope that makes it a little nicer to be here.”

“It’s already nice to be here.”

“I’m sure the headache made it suck a little, though.”

“Well yes but no.”

“Yes but no is my personal motto.”

“Is it now?”

“Well, ‘Should you do this, Jason? Dad will be mad.’ followed by yes but no is literally everything I do, ever.”

“Is this how telling your dad that we’re dating went?” she joked.

“Oh yeah, he just hates you,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

“If your partner’s parents don’t hate you then are you even their partner?” she retorted.

He laughed and buried his face into her chest. She laughed between sips of her coffee and she stroked his hair. She thought he liked it when she did this, and he did, she was right. He could feel each of her fingers running through his hair, massaging his head. If love languages are a thing, she could speak his fluently.

She was scared, scared that the attacks against her were related, scared that her friends weren’t going to get out of jail, scared that her escapade of drinking had brought her back to alcoholism, there was a taste she could never get off her tongue, the cravings she couldn’t quench. And it scared her. She hadn’t been this far down in a while, mentally. 

It never seemed like the moment that she could bring that up to Jason, her fears. She wanted to open up about it but she just couldn’t.

Jason wanted to bring up the nightmares to her, but it was never the moment, He wanted to open up to her about it but he too, just couldn’t.

When she finished her coffee, it was unfortunately the time that Jason had to work, she audibly groaned and sighed when he left her side. He laughed and kissed her before he left the bed, and she, jokingly, tried to pull him back onto the bed.

Mundane life, day-to-day life was stuff like this, partners leaving because they had jobs, school, volunteering, extra-curricular activities, anything. It was the sad reality that they both would have to accept, especially if Y/N was going to reenroll in her dance lessons, which she had been thinking about. She hadn’t been deciding anything, she was scared.

Was it the distance that scared her? Probably. Was it the fact that she could fall from grace? Yes. She didn’t want to fall, she wanted to climb and climb harder and progress. She was a high-achiever. She had already fell, too. She fell hard.

She remembered waking up in a hospital in grade 10, after a night of partying, on the verge of death from alcohol poisoning. She was sent to rehab but relapsed hard. She had already fell, she had fallen so hard but tried to rebuild herself so hard as well. No one, but her parents, knew about the hospital visit, she had hidden it.

He was working away, typing on his laptop when she noticed that he was wincing.

“Baby?” she asked.

“Yes?” he said, through pain.

“Are you alright?”

“Just a little bit of pain, don’t worry.”

She got up and draped her arms behind him on the chair, “Doesn’t seem like a little bit, Jay.”

He grabbed her arm and rested his hand there while the other worked still, “Really, it’s nothing.”

“Do you have pain medication?” she whispered in his ear, trying to prove that she wasn’t going to let it go.

“I do, in the cabinet in the bathroom, why? Are you in pain?”

“If I asked you to take some so I don’t have to see you wince, will you?” she said while she walked towards the bathroom and dug through his cabinet.

“Baby, c’mon, please,”

“Shhhh,” she said as she found the pain meds and walked back, “Take some?”

“C’mon now,” he said.

“No, don’t humor me, say yes or no,” she said.

He grabbed the pill bottle and read the dosage instructions as she  crawled behind him in the chair and rested her head on his back. He laughed slightly when she did and she could feel him laugh. The way his muscles contorted as he laughed. It was something she loved. He took the recommended dosage when she glanced at his stitches. They looked to be healing, but she wasn’t a doctor, she didn’t know if they were.

She placed her hand on top of his stitches, hoping she could just trace the outline of the scar, but she was watching his face, hoping that he wouldn’t wince if she tried. He smiled though,  something about her even trying to comfort him brought him joy.

He didn’t feel worthy of her worry, her love, her kindness, but he enjoyed every minute of it because he still didn’t know if the pressure of it all, his life, if it would break her. He didn’t want it all to come crashing down, ever. He wanted this to last at least long enough that he could consider saying ‘I love you’  to her.

Every other girl would have run at the moment he was stabbed though, maybe because they had sense, maybe because she didn’t think through it all. He didn’t think she was ‘Not like other girls’ just because he knew that mindset is fucking trash, thank to his sisters just rambling about it at family game night after Tim said it, on accident. Boy, that kid got his ass handed to him by the girls.

He was sure that Y/N probably thought the same about it, in spite of the pick-me songs she’d end up playing when she was bored. They were just good songs, he was sure she didn’t really think that bringing other women, even men, down was a good thing. if she did, who knows how his sisters and brothers would feel about her when they found out.

But there he sat, and Y/N hadn't run. She had embraced the tragedy with open arms and expected it to slow down. His life was face-paced, a tale of a boy running too far and into the sky, and she sat through it with him. He would tap and type on his laptop, trying to not move and disturb her as she relaxed. 

Doing work was not exactly the activity a new couple would want to do when neither of them had anything else to do, but it needed to be done or Bruce would hand Jason his ass in an argument about work ethic. Jason had work ethic, and Bruce had let him rest but when Jason was showing signs of recovery, he started telling Jason to ease back into work. So, Jason wrote essays defending projects Bruce wanted to do to the board. 

Bruce didn’t need Jason to defend him, but if Jason could get the words out, normally no board members would fight Bruce on the decision anymore. And Bruce paid Jason handsomely for these essays, because Bruce did not like the fighting and arguing he’d get from the board.

But the Batman-Patented Stare would follow if someone continued to hate Bruce’s plans. It was a watered-down version of it, but it was still probably the most intimidating thing that his kids and teammates have ever experienced.

Jason hope that the relationship between him and Y/N would continued even if Bruce gave her the Batman Stare. She seemed like the type of girl who would end up laughing in Bruce’s face if he did it to her.

She was probably going to receive it after that fight Jason and him had about protection, because she was also partly to blame about that.

The hours ticked by as Jason wrote to defend his dad from the board, and before he and Y/N knew it, it was dinner time at the Wayne Manor, and Y/N was invited. Great, Jason thought, I guess we’re going to find out how she’s going to deal with the stare.

“Just a fair warning, baby, my dad’s probably going to attempt to lecture you if you join us for dinner,” Jason said as he got dressed.

“He can try his best, I’ll give him that,” she laughed as she threw on the same clothes she had from the day before.

“You need to start bringing an over-night bag here, damn,” he joked.

“Remind me next time I come over and I’ll at least bring a second change of clothes in my schoolbag.”

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

They all sat down for dinner, and Bruce started his parenting attempt, “Jason, Y/N,” he said and both of them stared at him, “You both know what you did was irresponsible-”

“Everything I do is irresponsible, Bruce, no offense,” Y/N joked.

“Look, I’m not going to have you two having sex-”

“They’re having sex?!” Damien and Tim exclaimed with fake disgust, YN laughed.

“Could any of you take this seriously?”

“Sorry, sorry, playboy billionaire, I’ll pretend you’re my dad for a second,” YN joked.

“You’re going to be a pain in my ass, huh?”

“Yeah, probably. Sorry about that, genuinely, but its not my fault your son picked me.”

“I just need you two to be safe if  you’re going to continue to have sex in my house,” Bruce said, exasperated.

“We’ll just have sex at my house then,” Y/N joked again.

Bruce gave her The Stare at this moment, and she got startled a little bit. Everyone paused because she literally jumped a bit at The Stare.

“Dad, I think you genuinely scared her a bit,” Dick said.

“Did I jump? Oh my god,” she laughed, “I’m sorry,” she laughed harder, “I wasn’t expecting it!”

“Dad, c’mon, she’s a guest,” Jason said.

“No, no don’t worry about me, seriously. He can discipline me all he wants, honestly. If he’s nice about it, I’ll listen, even if I throw 69 jokes his way.”

“Nice,” Tim retorted.

“Really, a sex joke? Right after I tried to parent you?” Bruce questioned, “You really are the perfect match for Jason, my god.”

“You didn’t already realize that from the flipping off the press and her head-butting incident?” Stephanie added in, mocking Bruce.

“I, in no way, feel remorse or shame about either of those events.”

“You flipped off the press?” Cass asked.

“I did, I did. They can’t stop me, no one can.”

“I can,” Jason joked.

“You can keep thinking that.”

Everyone laughed. Whether or not Bruce wanted to admit it, he liked Y/N and hoped that Jason and her were going to last a while.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Ride Me Like a Harley

Part 1 | Part 2 of The Prospect & The President

A/N: Here’s Part 2 of this 2-part series with Jax and a gender-neutral reader, based on the below requests! *The idea is that this fic can be enjoyed from the perspective of any reader, with no reference to gender-specific features.* Anyone reading as a woman can just imagine that SAMCRO admits women! (hard to believe, I know, but hey this is fanfiction 🙃)

Pairing: Jax Teller x gender-neutral reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, anal sex, dom!Jax (being bossy as fuck while you ride his cock) Requests: Request 1 (+ follow-up) and Request 2 from @malethirsty

Word Count: ~3k

... Continued from Part 1 [Read Here]

So it’s finally happened. Tonight you were finally patched in. The excitement of joining the club lives up to everything you’d imagined. After all of the hazing and humiliation, the brutal process of initiation... it feels so good to know it was all worth your while. 

And now it’s time for celebration. A couple of other prospects were patched in too, the same time as you, and the Sons are throwing a huge party to welcome you all to the crew. A big bash at the clubhouse with limitless bitches and booze. Bikers gone wild, in true SAMCRO style.

Thankfully, all these festivities help to distract, take your mind off the fact... that you still can’t get over your stupid obsession with Jax. Can’t get over that task, from a few weeks ago, that had put you on the fast track into SAMCRO. Just as Jax had promised. You will never forget how the President savagely teased and taunted, that the patch would be yours nice and quick... if you did just one little thing: sucked his big dick. Standing there like a motherfucking king, Jax knew how eagerly you’d jump on it.

Well, at least he was honest, you think as you throw back another drink. Speeding up your admissions process was exactly what you’d wanted. You’re just glad Jax kept his promise.

You spend most of the night pretending you don’t notice as he silently flirts with you from across the room, in all the ways that make you melt for him. Glancing at you over his shoulder, for no reason, simply for the sake of teasing. Flashing all those dirty little smirks and winks.

Fuck him, you think, knowing you surely never will. The President had ordered you to suck him off for one specific purpose; now that you’ve performed that service, your reward has been fulfilled. When you followed that order, you couldn’t have hoped that a meaningless joke of a blowjob would take things between you and Jax any farther...

Like he’s reading your mind, Jax approaches you now from behind. “Hey, you know why this is such a big night for our charter?”

You turn toward him and end up losing yourself in his blue gaze, admiring every feature on his flawless face. Dumbstruck as always. The universe is clearly conspiring to make your attempts to get over this man even harder.

As your eyes lock on his, Jax flicks his tongue between his smirking lips, ruining you the way he loves to do. “Well, thanks to you... our club just got a hundred times hotter.”

Ugh. Does he have to be corny as fuck? He knows that his praise always gets you all horny and hot and bothered...

And you’ve honestly had enough. Tonight you’re gonna put your foot down: now you’ve finally joined the club, Jax either has to stop fucking around, fucking you up... or just start fucking you, full stop. One or the other.

For fuck’s sake, you hope it’s the latter.

You spent so many months enduring teasing and torture from all of the Sons—no one more so than this dirty bastard—and in some ways, you have to admit it was fun. But tonight you are done. Done with doing whatever it takes, just to move up the ladder. Done playing along with the President’s games. Because damn it, your dignity matters.

Ever since Jax demanded that you suck his cock, then just left you to grovel in shame, feeling shitty as fuck, you’ve been struggling to put back together the pieces that shattered. 

But now you are an actual member. The President has to remember, and has to start treating you better. You’re not just a plaything for Jax Fucking Teller.

Never mind that the thought of being a plaything for the king turns you on to no end... you just have to pretend that it doesn’t. Your willing submission is just what he’d want. And you won’t ever let him humiliate you into such a position again. You just won’t.

“Jax, I think you should stop this,” you snap as you set down your shot glass, attempting eye contact, but quickly averting your eyes because otherwise you’d fucking die from his hotness. “Seriously, just stop with this... all of this nonsense. I’m sick of your shit, to be honest.”

The President pauses and arches his brows up. He clearly has no plans to stop. The cute crow eater standing at the bar just handed him a frothing mug of beer, hoping to catch his attention with tits popping out of her top, but Jax’s focus is on you alone as if nobody else is even here.

“Sick of my shit?” he repeats your words, wickedly snickering at you because he is the worst. You will never get over your thirst, and he knows it. “Nice try, bitch. This whole fucking club is my shit, in case you haven’t noticed. I own it.” 

Oh shit. There he goes acting like the king he is, exuding big dick energy that makes you fall to pieces. You down another shot, to drown out your instinctively submissive thoughts. Struggling to stifle back your inner whore. Yes, sir, you’re desperate to answer. The whole fucking world is yours. Yes of course. Yes, Master. You are a god.

Why does he have to be so mind-blowingly hot...? It really sucks, the way this evil bastard, just existing like he does, has your ass so totally fucked. His presence never fails to blow your mind to bits, rendering you a speechless piece of shit.

The king reaches to run his ring-clad fingers slowly across your new patch, the small strip of fabric that you have so proudly attached. His touch feels like a goddamn attack. Reminding you, just as he’d said, that SAMCRO is the property of Jax. “And now you’re a part of it. Don’t act as if you don’t love it.”

Fuck this shit. You try to pull back; you’re determined to act. Dead set on doing exactly that. “Don’t touch me, Jax.”

“DoN’t ToUcH mE, jAx,” he mocks, with a sadistic little laugh. And he’s so savage that you honestly can’t manage. Might just drop down onto your knees to bow before his crotch, right here and now and let the whole room watch, as you worship his cock.

On impulse, your eyes drop to his jeans and you notice a bigger-than-usual bulge. Jax is hard as a rock. What the fuck? You know he loves to tease you and crack jokes, making you choke, watching you turn to mush, taking advantage of your silly little crush—but since when does it get him off this much...?

He leans in closer, wraps his arm around your shoulder, and you can’t think anymore. Melting into his touch and moaning like a whore. Engulfed in the rich scent of Jax Fucking Teller.

“Bitch, you know nobody ever looked better in leather?” he breathes into your ear, scandalous words for you alone to hear. “Look even hotter now that you’re a member. Fuck, I couldn’t take my eyes off you all night. But you already knew that, right? Think anyone would notice if the two of us snuck out of here? Together?”

At this point Jax’s arms are the only thing holding you up. You’re about to pass out right in front of the whole fucking club.

And the bastard won’t keep his goddamn dirty mouth shut. “Tell me how much you wanna get fucked in this kutte, you filthy little slut.”

Oh my Goddd... You want nothing more than to surrender, but then you remember—the pain you had felt, literal living hell, when the President shot his whole load down your throat and then left you alone and abandoned, like it never happened. The worst sense of emptiness you could have ever imagined.

You swore to yourself that you’d never allow him to do that again. Definitely not the night of patch-in. Your first night as a part of the crew, and already he’s set on destroying you? Seriously, though? Fuck no.

So you pull back. “Look, Jax—before I earned the patch, I let you go ahead and burn me like a sack of trash. But now I’m done with all of that,” you state, shoving him further away. Forcing yourself to resist even though you can feel that his dick is so fucking erect... You try to keep your words plain and direct. “Now that I’m not just a pathetic little prospect, don’t you think maybe you should show my ass some damn respect?”

As soon as you’ve said it, you realize that you probably shouldn’t have used the word ‘ass’ in that sentence. But you had. And Jax makes sure to take advantage of that fact.

“You want me to respect your ass?” he suggestively asks, moving in close to you before you can even attempt to step further back. “Well, with an ass looking like that, what’d you expect?”

Ugh—why does he insist on relentlessly fucking you up? You try to push him off. “Jax, just stop...”

He pulls you close again and interrupts. “Y/N, listen—I know I’ve been treating you bad, and I get that you’re mad. And you have every right to be. It’s just that...” his voice trails softly, quietly, as he pushes you up against the bar, not even caring if the whole room sees how fucking close you are, “...after the shit that happened, I thought I could try to pretend. To deny what I want. Keep up the act of the cold heartless President I’m always trying to be. But I can’t. Understand?”

... Understand? No, you don’t. You blink up in silence at this glorious god of a man. What does he really want...?

And so he goes on. “Ever since then, I haven’t stopped thinking about you, Y/N. Not for one fucking minute,” he boldly continues, his heated confession infused with such passion you almost believe that it’s true. Very nearly convincing you, somehow. “I mean it. I mean—shit, every time I see you now, I can’t stop staring at your mouth. Thinking about my dick in it.”

Well, at least that you can believe. You remember the look on his face, so aroused and amazed, and the stars in his gaze when you’d swallowed him down all the way. The way he’d groaned and heaved, just before you allowed him to fucking explode. Jax had looked so euphoric when blowing his load, like his dick had found heaven deep down in your throat, never wanted to leave...

“Want you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone. It scares the shit out of me, honestly—but now I’m finally done trying to hide,” he declares, burning holes through your soul with the heat of his stare, till you’re totally wrecked. And with the words that he says next, you’re pretty sure you’ve died. “Tonight... I think it’s time you take this big dick for a ride.”

***************

Thanks to those words knocking you dead, you can’t remember when and how you ended up in Jax’s bed. 

He threw you over his shoulder, you’re pretty sure. Hauled you up to his dorm, barged through the door, manhandling you like a whore. It’s all a blur, raw hormones raging up a storm. He needs you now, as much as you need him. Or even more, somehow. True to form, the President takes on his role as your complete and utter dom, now that he has you in his room. He owns your whole entire ass, without a doubt.

“This ass is fucking mine,” he rasps, throwing you facedown on the mattress and attacking you with feral hands, forcefully yanking down your pants. Taking your bare cheeks in his grasp. His dominance feels so divine. “God, look at that. So fucking hot. So fucking perfect. Wanted this so bad, ever since the day we met. You said you wanted me to show it some respect?”

His palm comes down against your naked skin, with a delicious little smack that stings like hell, pleasure and pain pairing so well. Heaven-sent sin. His touch upon your cheeks makes you so weak. Can’t even speak. Jax hasn’t even fucked you yet and it’s already the best sex you’ve ever had. You need his big fat dick inside of you so fucking bad...

“Tell me, bitch,” he mutters, bending down over your body, tearing off your kutte and shirt and biting at your shoulder, every move he makes a hundred shades of naughty. Grazing his savage hands over your ass as his touch makes you shudder and twitch. “Still want respect? Or is this perfect ass of yours desperate to get fucking wrecked?”

Though you’re incapable of speech right now, you manage to form words somehow, when you feel him reach down to spread your legs. You moan and groan out loud, breathless. “Fuck yes—fucking destroy me, Jax...!” you beg.

Next thing you know he’s naked too, hot sweaty skin sliding against you, smooth and slick. Good God, he moves so fucking quick. “This tight ass ready for my dick? You ever taken anything so big?”

No point in answering that question—um, of course you haven’t. But the thought of Jax’s massive shaft splitting your ass in half sounds like complete heaven.

“Don’t wanna break you yet...” he says, shifting in one swift motion till he’s on the bottom, holding you firmly in place in top of him. Looking up at you with his trademark cocky grin, hands all over your heated skin. “First time I’ve got you in my bed—if I destroy your ass, it’ll be the last. We can’t have that.”

“I want it, Jax...” you gasp, a total mess as you reach to caress the sculpted muscles of his chest.

“I know,” he laughs, dealing your ass a playful slap. “Of course that’s what you want, you greedy little slut. Just gonna take it nice and slow.”

“But—ohhh....” you moan, realizing what he means all of a sudden, as he starts to dominate you from the bottom. 

“Mmm, there we go,” Jax goads you on. Keeping a tight grip on your hips, he guides you into position on top of him—on instinct, you reach down to grab his delicious dick, lining it up with your hole. A cry of bliss leaps from your lips, as your ass finally comes in contact with his cock, wet with the precum leaking from the tip. It feels so fucking beautiful. Won’t even need to be lubed up because he’s wet as fuck.

You take your time easing yourself down onto his enormous length, which takes a lot of self-restraint. You want him all the way; you crave the pain. But like he said, this is your first time in his bed. Jax Fucking Teller knows his size and strength. He doesn’t want tonight to leave your poor ass torn to shreds. Not yet.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like that,” he says, gazing up at your face, knowing his praises always get you good and wet. “Sitting down on this big juicy cock. So damn desperate to get fucked.”

In the state that you’re in, descending on his dick and ascending to heaven, you can’t even say much. “Jax... ughhh...”

Soon enough, you finally have him buried in your ass balls deep, and it feels so painfully good that you might just collapse in a heap.

You do your best to hold yourself up; Jax’s dominant hands and his calming words help you to do your damn job. “That’s a good little bitch. Nice and steady. Stay with me. You ready? I don’t want you missing a second of this.”

Then he starts thrusting upwards, all slowly and gently at first, and you find yourself grinding back down on him, hips moving in an instinctual rhythm. Feels so good that you’re sure all your insides are going to burst. And you love how it hurts. You’ve lost conscious control of your limbs, but your body apparently knows how to do its own thing. Always knows how to follow the lead of your king.

Jax looks so fucking pleased as he lies back admiring the view.

“Now put your kutte back on, why don’t you. Told you nobody wears leather like you do,” he suggests, smiling as you obediently grab the vest that he’d recently stripped off of you and flung onto the mattress. You’ve always wanted him to fuck you in this kutte, make you his dirty little slut. Just like he’d said back at the party. “Yeah, just like that, Y/N. Go on and start my fucking engine. Ride me like a Harley.”

And those words are all you need to fucking hear. You grab hold of his broad muscular shoulders, anchoring you as you steer; Jax wraps his arms around your back to pull you closer, bring you near. So you can listen to the filthy shit he whispers in your ear. Reminding you that you’re his dirty little whore, and that his big cock is all yours. You hear him loud and fucking clear. And you want time to stop right fucking here.

You may have started as a lowly little prospect, crushing on the President... but now you’ve earned a lot more than respect. You’ve earned the right to take his big dick for a ride, to feel him driving all the way inside, splitting your tight hole open wide. Tonight and every night. And it feels fucking perfect. Better than you’d ever dreamed, filling you up until you’re bursting at the seams, more than you could’ve ever asked.

This is the first time Jax is fucking your ass—it’s hands down the best sex, the best ride of your life... but it sure as hell won’t be the last.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did! ✨

If you’d like to read another fic that I’ve written with Jax and a gender-neutral reader, I’d recommend Make It Rain! 💦

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[officerjennie]

Hello can I please request hugging for a very long time as a platonic bonding prompt with any pair of witcher characters you fancy (characters from the witcher that is)

Hey so I’m feeling rather self-indulgent so I turned this into a trans!Eskel piece, with him coming out to his family and receiving nothing but love and support in return. Extended platonic hug bonding coming from Lambert.

CW: Trans!Eskel coming out to his family, brief descriptions of gender dysphoria over certain pronouns and other nouns (woman, female wolf, etc.), fears of not being accepted (but he ends up accepted anyway), Lambden mentioned (with potential relationship troubles). WC 3k+

--

Eskel had never been so nervous to see his youngest brother.

All things considered, everything had gone well so far. It had taken over a year to tell both Geralt and Vesemir - he hadn’t had the courage to tell the lot of them at the same time, the last winter coming and going without a whisper of who he really was, until he stayed behind and lingered in the keep even up until Lambert had taken his arse elsewhere.

In a lot of ways, Eskel had assumed Vesemir’s reaction would be the worst, simply because the wolf was old and Eskel had no way of knowing what the world had been like when he had been a pup. But his expression had been soft, his eyes alight with humor, and the only thing he’d said on the matter was “No female wolf after all, huh.”

Eskel had rolled his eyes, shoulders sagging with relief, leaving it at that. The lack of disappointment or flair had done well for him, and that had been one down.

Telling Geralt had...well, he hadn’t had time to really plan out when to tell him. One day he’d been on the path on his own, riding by a field of rather tempting goats and kids that just begged for their little heads to be scritched - and the next he found himself saddled up next to his brother, having ran into him near the coast and decided to hunt a rather nasty little group of cockatrices together.

It had slipped out by accident, a correction at the wrong noun used to describe him. Eskel had flushed and looked away quickly, knowing the question would come and not sure if he was ready to answer it. But he did, and though the silence was deafening the arms that soon wrapped around him showed him nothing but support and comfort.

Those two had been easy, even if his nerves had been fried. As he should have come to expect by now his family had shown him nothing but support, letting it be well known that it didn’t matter what name he went by or who he was - because he was theirs, their family, and now their brother.

Lambert, though...

The day had slipped past him, his hands shaking every time he thought of seeking him out. It had been an early homecoming for the both of them, and this winter Lambert had come back alone, leaving his ‘kitty cat’ somewhere out in a fishing village for some reason he vagued out instead of explaining. A spat, no doubt; it happened every few years for them, but there was no question in his mind that they’d be fine. Two hot tempers in the same room sometimes just exploded despite their best efforts, and a bit of space and time between them would sweeten their reunion.

But it meant that Eskel was left in the keep with Vesemir, who knew, and Lambert, who didn’t. And he saw the questioning look Vesemir had sent him when Lambert obviously didn’t know, making the usual jokes that made Eskel’s stomach clench, calling him the name that made him question everything that he was and at times almost sending him mentally downwards.

It wasn’t his fault. Lambert didn’t know. But it made Eskel both want to avoid him and also go punch something, and neither of those would be good for him in the long run.

So, here he was. For the nth time already this winter, though the snow had yet to even reach their ankles outside. Standing outside of Lambert’s room, listening as the telltale sound of a sharpening stone ran across the blade of a sword on the other side, as Lambert hummed to himself like he loved to pretend he never did - and while Eskel tried desperately to get his hands to stop shaking and his heart to quit beating so quick.

He had to tell him. Needed him to know. Lambert was in a lot of ways the most loyal of the lot of them. Sure his temper got him in trouble, and yes he loved to be a little shit and make sure they all knew he was one, but there wasn’t another person better to have your back in any situation. It didn’t matter if you were in the right or wrong to Lambert if you were his family because he would fight teeth and nails for you either way.

But his temper. His bloody temper, and his trust issues. A breeze sent the curtains in the hall sussing against each other as Eskel raked a desperate hand through his own hair, thinking once again about putting this off and waiting another day, or week, or fuck, until next winter.

They all had their flaws. For many reasons, Lambert has issues with trusting others and had an inferiority complex that kicked up at the worst of times. Really, Eskel had no doubt that Lambert would accept him in the end, that he’d see him for the brother he’d always been and perhaps even manage to not make jokes about it (he never meant to be cruel but Lambert sometimes didn’t know where the line for cruelty was, and his head was thick). 

What worried him was his initial reaction. How Lambert would feel knowing he was the last to learn, even though it had not really been intentional. How he might feel to have been kept out of the know for years even if he wasn’t the only who hadn’t known - and Eskel wasn’t sure how to even explain that he himself hadn’t known for decades, only knowing that certain words made his skin crawl, that being called a woman had always made him blank and feel...outside of himself. For so long he’d not had the words to describe it and for a long time after he’d been afraid to, even to himself, even within his own mind, and his throat had constricted around the confession every time he’d thought to bring it up.

The breeze was too cold, biting at his cheeks and nose. But it helped him breathe, that fresh air, helped ground him with the feel of ice cold in his lungs. He...wasn’t sure how to do this. After doing it twice already, he still wasn’t sure, wasn’t certain. Doubts still tried to eat at his mind and heart but he knew he deserved this - he deserved to be who he was around his family, around his brothers, and there was nothing wrong with wanting to share that with them.

It was terrifying nonetheless, and he’d faced down monsters over twice his size before. Alone.

Finally, he gathered up his courage and knocked on the damn door, rapping his knuckles twice out of habit. The humming stopped instantly but the rasp of rock against steel didn’t pause, Lambert’s grouchy tone snarking out “It’s about time, thought you stand out there all damn day.”

Despite how nervous he was, Eskel rolled his eyes, taking that as the invitation it was and entering his room. He shut the door up tight behind him to keep the chill out, the warmth from the fireplace slowly spreading over his chilled cheeks, pleasant enough an atmosphere for one of the most terrifying conversations he’d ever have to have.

“Finally gonna spit it out?”

Lambert was sitting on the edge of his bed, sharpening tools and a cleaning kit spread out haphazardly across the mussed up blanket around him. His armor was tossed on the floor about him, parts polished and parts still scuffed and dirty from the road, a few of his knives and his silver sword still in their sheathes at his feet, too.

It was a little irksome, how randomly he’d decided to go about his polishing and cleaning, but Eskel really couldn’t micromanage the cleaning and upkeep of his weapons. At least he was doing it; that’s all that mattered.

“Need any help with that?” Didn’t mean he couldn’t offer. 

Lambert didn’t bite, though, a scowl showing just how unimpressed he was with Eskel’s deflection - even if it was a genuine offer. “Getting tired of you lurking out there every other day, so out with it. What do you want?” His eyes turned sharp for a second, stone pausing in its glide across the blade. “And this had better not have anything to do with the fucking cat, it’s fine, I’m fine, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not about the fucking cat.” Eskel held up his hands in a placating manner, watching the tension instantly melt from Lambert when he did. Getting him to talk about his own issues was worse than pulling vampire teeth and he was really not in the mood for that. Not in the slightest. “I’ve got...well, my own shit to talk about.”

That caught Lambert’s interest, his face flashing in a complicated mess of emotion before it settled on something guarded. But Eskel knew him well enough to catch the hint of disbelief in his voice as he said, “Surprised you’re not waiting for Geralt then.”

Eskel shifted his weight to his right leg, actively making sure he didn’t look away. “No, this is something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“The fuck d’you think I did?”

“Not-” He was going to make a right mess of his hair at this rate, running his hands through it so much. “Not about you, Lambert, with you. Tell you something. Just...talking. If that’s alright.”

Lambert gestured towards a spare seat near Eskel with his sword, casual, as if both of them weren’t nervous now. It wasn’t like they never talked - they talked plenty, but serious conversations happened rarely if ever unless something was wrong. The last time they talked anything like this had been when Kaer Morhen had been ransacked, which had been so many years ago Eskel struggled to remember the exact amount.

He took the offered chair, slouching in it with his arms crossed and making himself as cozy as he could be. The heat from the fireplace was a bit too much for him now that the bite of winter was entirely gone; he’d always been the wolf that preferred the cold the most, or at least the one that could handle heat the least. It was one of the reasons he’d stayed here for so long to help Vesemir make the most out of the rubble and ashes, grumbling as much as the next over the snow but at least able to function in it.

The sound had returned. Scraping of stone against steel, a steady rhythm, one that helped steady Eskel’s heartbeat. It was mesmerizing in that way anything familiar and repetitive was, something that helped ground him when his mind wanted to panic with all of the ‘what ifs’ it could imagine. He was grateful for the otherwise quiet Lambert’s patience allowed them, though he knew it wouldn’t last, closing his eyes and breathing while he calmed his thoughts.

It wouldn’t be that hard. Couldn’t take that long. All he had to do was say it and it would be over with. Questions might come, hurt feelings might follow, but it would be done and they could move on. And better to do it before Lambert’s thin patience ran out on him.

“Lambert.” His mouth was a bit dry, words not coming easy to him. Eyes open now as he watched his brother’s hand glide across the flat of the blade resting in his lap, concentration written in the furrow of his brow but the twitch of his mouth told him Lambert was listening.

All he had to do was say it. That’s all. The rest would come after.

Stone against steel, grounding him. He breathed in as it ran down the blade, out as it reached the end and lifted once more. 

“I’m not a woman, Lamb.”

His eyes flicked down to the armor and weapons that lay at his brothers feet, heart picking up as it no longer had a rhythm to try and match. The fire crackled to his left, popping and hissing, one of the pieces of wood getting ready to fall in on itself any minute.

“What are you, then?”

“A man.” He licked his lips, eyes blinking faster than normal, his heart not letting him look up to see what might be on his brother’s face. What emotions might be flashing there, what response he might have, delaying it as long as possible.

“Kitty cat had a sister, you know?” Eskel’s stomach clenched at the word, his arms squeezing tighter around himself. “Not by blood, but by school, or however you’d call it - he called her sister, s’my point. I met her once when the bastard dragged me all the way down south to the coast, worst fucking decision of my life. The journey, not meeting her.”

Lambert’s deep breath is what made Eskel finally look up, seeing his brother’s face flushed, his jaw clenching in that way it always did when he was forced to deal with sticky things like delicate conversations or emotions.

“Maybe it’s not my fucking place to say it, but he told me and she knows I know it. Doubt you’ll ever meet her anyway, but she’s- ya know, not- she wasn’t always a woman? Or, she was, but didn’t live like one, dressed and talked and walked like a man.”

Oh. Eskel swallowed, sitting up a little more in his seat, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

“So, fuck, I get it. I mean, I don’t, I don’t get it, but I understand what you’re saying.” He huffed in frustration but Eskel knew him well enough to know what at; words had never been his strong suit. “Feel free to fucking deck me if I slip up. She certainly had no problem with that.”

“Knocked some sense into you?”

That earned him a grin, Lambert finally meeting his eyes again. “Bitch knew how to fight, too. Thought I might have been in love.”

“Surprised you didn’t stay then.”

“Turned out she’s gay, so.” Lambert shrugged, giving his sword a once over before reaching for the sheath that had been laying on the bed next to him. “Guess I’d be barking up the wrong tree on that one.”

“Have to stick with your own cat then.”

The humor flickered away for a moment, Lambert scowling as he placed his now sheathed sword down next to his armor. “Yeah, well. Yeah... Might have...fucked up a little bit on that one.” Before Eskel could say anything, Lambert’s head jerked to the side, his hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Can we just- can we not talk about that? I’d rather stick to the ‘supportive, loving, dashing, best brother’ thing.”

“Right, yeah. That’s fine.”

There was a pause between them, a tinge of awkwardness in the air as they both fidgeted, not entirely sure where to go from there. The fire fizzled and popped, sending some embers out that landed on the stone floor, thankfully no where close to anything that could catch fire. It was all that spoke in the room besides the sounds of their heartbeats and breathing.

Lambert was the one who broke first, something making his leg bounce where his arm rested on it. “You didn’t think, ya know, that I wouldn’t- that I’d, I don’t fucking know, not? Support you, I mean.”

“I...” Eskel swallowed hard, thinking. “I didn’t think you wouldn’t, Lamb, but I wasn’t sure how the conversation would go. Didn’t know if you’d think I had been hiding it or not telling you on purpose.”

“Fuck, like I’d have any room to talk.” He scowled as he bit one corner of his thumb, chewing at a hangnail for a second. “When have I ever talked to any of you about feelings or whatever.”

It was true, but Eskel knew better than to take it at face value. Lambert was sensitive in a way he loved to hide and pretend he wasn’t, but they all knew him better than that. 

But there was no reason to think on all the ways the conversation could have gone poorly. It hadn’t, the air was clear between them, everything (or most everything) out in the open. But the hurt hadn’t left Lambert’s face since Aiden had been mentioned, by name or not, and that had Eskel’s chest hurting again.

What had his foolish Lamb done this time, he wondered. 

There was no way Lambert would accept any sort of comfort, but as Eskel shifted in his seat some more, not quite yet feeling the relief he’d hoped he would after their conversation was over, he had an idea as to how they might get some together.

“Feel free to say no,” he started slow, staring down at his own fingers and picking the dirt out from underneath them. “But I, well. This has been a lot for me. Talking about this. You might if we maybe...hug? For a while?”

It was probably pushing it, to take on ‘for a while’, but Eskel honestly found himself hoping Lambert said yes even for himself. 

The scoff was a bit expected, but the lack of a verbal ‘no’ was good. He looked up to find Lambert on the edge of an answer, confliction written all over his face, his hands clasped together and that one leg bouncing away as he started at nothing.

“Fine,” was the only answer he got, and Eskel took it quickly. And maybe it was pushing it a bit further when he wrapped Lambert up into his chest instead of the other way around but Lambert didn’t try to get away, tucking up under his chin and eventually relaxing into his brother’s arms the way he hadn’t since they were little and the nightmares had been too much.

He wasn’t sure how long Lambert would allow him this, would allow them both the comfort of each other, but he relaxed into it and decided to savor the physical touch as a reminder of their familial love for each other. However long Lambert would let him, he’d stay just like this, with the fire crackling on and the two brother’s embracing each other, the smell of home around them.

[ohgodmyeyes]

Movie Night

Luke x Anakin is my new favourite ship, so I’m gonna crosspost one of those, too. I’m bored.

3k words of modern!Anakin fucking his son on the couch below the cut.

18+

Luke liked to sit next to his dad.

"What are you watching?" he asked one evening, as he fell beside Anakin onto the well-worn old couch in the basement.

"Huh?" Relaxing downstairs after work was one of Anakin's favourite things to do. He liked to bathe, shirtless, in the gentle, blue glow of his television set. Like the sofa, the TV was old— Anakin had never bothered to upgrade to HD. Not down here, anyway.

Luke didn't mind. Again, he just liked to sit next to his dad.

"I said, what are you watching?"

"Oh. Movie."

"What movie?"

"Rambo."

"Oh, cool. I like the old ones."

"Fuck off." Anakin didn't think 'Rambo' was that old.

He'd just started drinking when his son had walked in— cans of beer, interspersed with the odd shot of dark, spiced rum. When he offered some of it to Luke, Luke didn't refuse.

Luke liked to do the things his dad did.

So, the two men drank— shot after shot, beer after beer, late into the night. 'Rambo' ended and 'Predator' started, and then 'Predator' ended, too. Luke rested his head on his dad's chest. It was strong, wide, and smooth. 'Top Gun' started to play next. Luke began to absently stroke Anakin's stomach.

By then, they were both certifiably shitfaced.

"You're pretty," said Anakin, sometime during an extended commercial break between films. It seemed to come from absolutely nowhere.

"What?" Luke turned his head to look up at his dad's face. He always seemed so serious. Right now was no exception.

"You're pretty," repeated Anakin flatly. "Like your mom." He was slurring his words a bit, but he wasn't lying. Luke was fucking gorgeous.

Luke felt himself blush. Why the hell was he blushing? "You... you think I'm—?"

"You're gonna get me in trouble one day." Anakin hadn't had a coherent thought for hours. Luke and the heat of his body were all there was. That, and the glow of the television screen.

"What are you talking about?" Luke tried to sit up a bit, but it was difficult. His dad's chest seemed almost... magnetic. He felt stuck to it.

"I'm talking about how you're even worse than your mom. She's a tease, sure... but you're a goddamn sadist." Anakin peered down at Luke. The kid looked like he belonged on a beach— naked, with the sunlight kissing his skin and glinting off his hair. How the hell had he turned out so damn blonde?

"Huh?"

"She likes to... I don't know. Flaunt herself around to get me going. Always has. You fucking torture me, though, and you don't even know you're doing it." Luke would do things like shower with the bathroom door open, and then walk around the house in nothing but a towel. Padmé and Leia were both busy, ambitious women, and that meant they were away a lot— working, socializing, attending school.

When they were away, Anakin would imagine ripping that damn towel right off and having his way with Luke.

He'd never actually tried it, though.

"I— uh, I... I'm... sorry?" stammered Luke. His face still felt hot. Now his dick was getting stiff, too. He didn't know what to say.

"Don't be sorry," said Anakin. "Just... take off your shirt." Again, Anakin was already shirtless.

"...What...?" Luke did manage to sit all the way up then. He looked his dad up and down, unable to stop his eyes from lingering. Anakin had always seemed so big to him— big and strong, and capable, too. He could fix anything, do anything, be anything.

Luke, sometimes, woke up hard and wet in the middle of the night to thoughts of his dad's body.

He'd never done anything about those thoughts, though.

...You really weren't supposed to think about your dad that way, were you?

"Take off your shirt," Anakin repeated. He shifted sloppily in his seat so as to get a better view. Luke's perfect, slight little frame and smooth, milky skin cried out to be touched.

Puberty had been very kind to Luke, Anakin thought, and he secretly loved that his son had stayed a couple of inches shorter than him. He would often sit right here in his basement and fantasize, in fact, about having Luke against the wall near the boiler— he was just small enough to lift, so it would be fun and easy to take him from the front, flush against the rough, bare cinderblock.

Luke would wrap his legs around his daddy's waist, and then Anakin would pound him until he—

"Dad?"

Anakin realized he'd become distracted.

Luke sat in front of him, newly shirtless.

"Fuck," said Anakin.

"What is it?" murmured Luke. The room was spinning, but his dad wasn't. His dad looked perfect. Too perfect. Fuck. Fuck.

"Y-you— you're as hard as a fucking rock."

Luke looked down. Anakin was right. He was only wearing a pair of soccer shorts, now. They were favourite pair— green. He was making a tent out of them with his cock. "S-so are you," he said, glancing across to the bulge in Anakin's own pants.

It was fucking huge.

"Goddamn it," Anakin said. He could feel the tip of his dick starting to drip. His heart was racing, too. This had to be a dream. He'd had dreams like this before.

"...Daddy?" asked Luke, wide-eyed and visibly tentative. He hadn't called Anakin 'daddy' in years. Why did he do it now? He didn't know.

"Tell me what you want, baby boy. Tell your daddy what you want."

"I— I want... I w-want you t-to..." Luke faltered, and faltered badly. How the hell was he supposed to say it?

"Tell me, Luke." Anakin shifted in his seat, and pulled his dick out of his pants. It stood tall and thick. Eager. Ready.

"I want you to fuck me, daddy," confessed Luke, struggling not to gape at the sheer size of his father's hard-on. He'd never seen it like this before, but now that he had, he knew he needed it.

Up to now, he'd thought dicks like his dad's only existed on the internet.

A half-shade or so darker than the skin on the rest of Anakin's body, it looked nearly as thick as a soup can, and more than long enough to choke just about anybody. It had a subtle, very alluring inward curve, and adorning its base was a pretty nest of haphazard, amber curls. Those curls lightened and grew sparse as they trailed up Anakin's stomach, stopping just short of his navel.

Luke found himself overcome with a disconcertingly urgent desire to touch his dad's cock— to lick it, suck it, and take it up his hole. He'd played with toys and played with his own fingers before, but he'd never had anything so magnificent as Anakin's hard-on up his ass.

He wondered if it was going to hurt.

Part of him hoped it would hurt.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was too drunk, that's what it was.

...Not too drunk to fuck, though. Not too drunk for his daddy.

Luke sprang into action. He got onto his hands and knees right there on the couch, kicking off his shorts behind himself as he ravenously stuffed the length of Anakin's throbbing dick into his wet, eager mouth. Everything in the room seemed to move along with him, and when the head of it first hit the back of his throat, he thought he might throw up.

His dad leaked haplessly onto his tongue.

Luke forgot all about puking.

"Jesus Christ!" shouted Anakin. He'd be glad, later, that his wife and daughter weren't home to hear him. He took a handful of his son's lovely hair in his hand, and pushed down to the delightful sound of a muffled squeal.

This was no dream.

Tears gathered at the edges of Luke's eyes. His dad was thick in his throat, hard against his back teeth. He bit down gently, and Anakin dripped. He coughed, swallowed, and whimpered through his own painfully full mouth. He began to choke as he felt his hair being gathered up, and his head being pushed down and pulled back in turns. On the way up, he'd try to breathe and blink, and on the way down he would simply relish being consumed.

"D-does th-that taste... g-good, baby boy?" Anakin gasped, although Luke didn't answer, because he couldn't. Padmé never let him fuck her mouth like this, Anakin thought. Never let him grab her by the hair, or force her face onto his cock. She thought she was too dignified for that— too 'good'.

Luke was under no such illusions.

Anakin bucked upwards, still pushing and pulling on the back of Luke's head. That pretty little mouth of his was talented, and every time it came down on Anakin, it seemed to have something new in store for him. Luke bit, Luke tongued, Luke swallowed, and Luke sucked. Anakin let out a groan, and realized that he was beginning to lose his rhythm.

Shit. No. Not yet! With a heavy grunt and very little warning, Anakin pulled his son's mouth away from his dick. He wanted to cum, but not like this.

"Daddy," coughed Luke. "A-are you g-going to—"

Anakin interrupted by twisting Luke's hair tightly in his fist, and hoisting him up so that the two were face-to-face. "If you let me fuck you," he warned, "it's going to hurt for days." Anakin knew very well that he had a monster hard-on. He'd always liked to make his wife squeal with it. Would Luke squeal, too?

"I— ah!— I... I want it anyway!" Luke bent his head backwards, squirming and struggling against his father's grasp. His own cock twitched, because he didn't really want to get away.

"I bet you have a tight little asshole, Luke. Tell your daddy you want him to wreck your hole." He pulled Luke close, again by the hair, and went on to sink his teeth into the boy's exposed neck. He smelled and tasted just like a teenager: All pheromone-laden sweat, and cheap, obtrusive body spray.

It was fucking intoxicating.

Luke cried out, and bucked his hips into the air. "W-wreck me, daddy. Destroy me." Anakin didn't know yet that Luke had been leaving the bathroom door open on purpose. Deep down, he wanted his dad to smell his soap, and catch glimpses of his body.

He always had.

Anakin released Luke's hair, letting him fall heavily back onto to the couch. "Give me your ass," he said, stumbling to his feet as hastily as he could manage. His dick was already out, so getting up was all he had to do.

"H-here," breathed Luke, sloppily rising from where he'd been dropped, and taking the back of the sofa in his hands as he stuck his ass out toward his father. He felt hungry right now— empty— in a way he never had before. He'd stopped asking himself how or why, because the reasons didn't matter. All he knew was that he needed it. "Fuck me, daddy," he begged. "Please, please fuck me!"

Anakin had been busy squeezing a generous portion of silky, high-end lube out onto his hand. Padmé had bought it for him to use with her, but he mostly kept it down here because he liked to make jerking off a more pleasant experience for himself: Anakin was horny by nature, and he jerked off a lot... although these days, he tended to do it most often following Luke's cruel, exhibitionist showers.

There was still plenty of slick left on his hand, so just for fun, he started with his fingers. He massaged Luke's little hole, poking and prodding and rubbing circles around it with awe-filled fascination, all while Luke shouted and whined. He reached around, too, to grab Luke by the cock. He stroked its shaft and teased its head, and every time it pulsed, he squeezed it hard and tight.

"You've always been such a good boy," whispered Anakin, curling his fingers up into his son's ravenous little hole.

For what felt like a long while, all Luke could do was writhe and whine as his dad fondled and fingered him... soon, though, his thighs began to tremble, and an intense, very familiar type of desperation started to well up inside of him. His breath hitched as he begged haltingly, "P-put... put it in! Please, dad, I— I—"

"Say it again first," demanded Anakin, abruptly withdrawing his attention from Luke's cock.

Luke screamed in frustration; again, it was a good thing his sister and his mother weren't at home. He knew just what his dad meant, though, so he obeyed immediately and unquestioningly, "Wreck me, daddy!"

"F-fuck... fuck, that sounds so damn good. One more time, Lukie— one more time for your daddy!" He was letting his cock brush up against the backs of Luke's thighs. Sticky little droplets of cum leaked out of him and onto Luke's skin, and Anakin spread them all around with his tip.

"Wreck me, daddy!"

That made Anakin grin. Wordlessly— he knew he didn't have to say a thing— he thrust his waiting length right past the threshold of his little boy's ass.

Luke would always be Anakin's little boy.

"F-fuck! Fuck!"

Again, Luke had played with toys before— his dad's cock, though, was something else altogether. The stretch burned, but as Anakin eased his way in further, a unique sensation of unfettered fullness overtook Luke, displacing his pain entirely.

By the time Anakin was buried up to his sack, Luke had been overcome with an urge to touch himself. When he went to try, though, he was foiled by his father's scolding.

"Stop that," Anakin chided, the very moment he noticed Luke's hand start to move.

"But dad—"

"You'll come when I say."

Luke blinked fresh tears out of his eyes as his own cock throbbed painfully, bobbing about in the air. He didn't have time to argue with his dad, though, because Anakin had already started to thrust: He felt too desperate to take his time, unable to spare Luke even an ounce of his own desperation.

Every one of those open-door showers came back to him then— every time that towel had ever slipped, every time Luke had bent over to grab one of the bottles of sugar-free iced tea Padmé liked to set up in neat little rows along the bottom of the fridge.

Every time the water in his hair would drip onto his shoulders, sending little rivers cascading down his chest and back... every time the outline of his flaccid cock would make itself evident through the immodest strip of blue terrycloth draped around his perfect little waist...

Fuck. Fuck.

Luke felt sticky tendrils of himself begin to drip helplessly onto the couch. Something akin to a sob forced its way up from the very back of his throat, and he gripped the back of the sofa with all his strength. He didn't dare reach back down between his own legs.

Anakin, for his part, just kept on fucking. He placed one hand on Luke's waist to steady himself, but the other shot straight to the back of the boy's head, twisting its fingers up once more in that pretty, blonde mop he so admired. Luke's whining only made him move faster, and their mutual trembling only caused him to tighten his grip. He was merciless, tearing into his son with the unbridled power of years of repressed lust.

Anakin had wanted this for what felt like forever.

Luke's neck bent back at a near-impossible angle, and his cock continued to bounce tortuously beneath him as his dad intensified his rhythmic pounding. He moaned and yelped as Anakin yanked on his hair, and dug a persistent set of strong, blunt fingertips into his waist. He tried not to clench too hard around his dad's dick, but he couldn't help it.

Not that Anakin minded being squeezed.

"Dad, I can't— I— I can't t-take—!"

"Just hold on, baby boy," Anakin interrupted breathlessly, lost in the frantic movement of his own hips. "Just hold on for daddy."

Luke did hold on. He held on with all his might, waiting— waiting for a shout, waiting for a tug, waiting for the sensation of—

"Daddy!"

"Fuck! L-Luke!"

Neither of them would ever know who went off first: Luke's eyes squeezed themselves shut while every muscle in his body tensed. His breathing grew ragged, and he let out a series of obscenely loud, strangled cries as his dad's ravaging finally became too much for him bear. Dick still bouncing along with Anakin's rhythm, he erupted all over the sofa in a hot, sticky, needy mess.

At what might have been the very same moment, Anakin ground his hips sharply into Luke's ass. He cursed, growled, and relished the dire, pulsing sensation of his cock exploding deep inside his boy. It felt like the ultimate indulgence: An indulgence of every single one of the sick fantasies to which Anakin had ever closed his eyes and stroked himself. He'd needed this for years.

He pushed hard while he drained, letting the hand he'd been keeping on his son's waist snake around to finger his sexy little navel. Anakin let his fingertips dance along the edge of the near-indiscernible trail of fine, strawberry hairs leading down to Luke's slowly-softening dick. He finally did wrap his hand around it again, giving it a loving pump or two as he held himself inside of Luke for as long as he could manage.

Luke sputtered and panted, and backed into his dad's cock insistently despite the fact that his arms and legs had begun to quiver. Soon, he felt Anakin start to soften up, and eventually— begrudgingly— pull out of him.

"D-Daddy," he whined yet again, as the very head of Anakin's dick popped out of his ass, leaving him with only its seed, and a uniquely wonderful, strangely devastating emptiness.

Anakin took a moment to catch his breath and regain his composure. He looked down and saw Luke's hole, still bearing the evidence of having been stretched to its limit by his cock. It was beautiful— so beautiful that Anakin traced one last circle around the rim of it with his fingertip, and then reached back to give the fleshiest part of his son's ass a hard, unexpected slap.

With a yelp and a hop, Luke finally gave up his grip on the back of the couch, letting go in favour of sloppily turning to face his dad. He fell into a heap then, almost seeming to dissolve into the old, threadbare fabric. He was sweaty, but still naked, and growing cold. His skin was peppered with goosebumps.

Anakin stood and stared down at him, mesmerized. His cock was still out, although it was now wet and flaccid. He didn't tuck it away until he registered for himself the chill in the basement air.

Then, he sat down next to his baby boy... who immediately moved to cling to his daddy's chest, warming himself contentedly as he basked in the glow of the TV, and in the lingering delirium of their sex.

The old movies had long since finished airing— now, there were only infomercials.

Anakin and Luke were quiet. They were still drunk... although, perhaps, not feeling their drunkenness quite as acutely as they had before.

"See?" asked Anakin.

"See what?"

"I told you— you're pretty."

Just as it had done the first time, Luke's face went red... however, the new heat rising in his cheeks was accompanied, this time, by a serene little smile.

He didn't say anything... but he did snuggle in just a little bit closer to Anakin. His ass hurt, but it was a good hurt.

A hurt that made him feel loved.

Luke liked to sit next to his dad.

[bitch-butter]

Little bit of a rivers prequel exploration. I've mentioned this scene a few times in the series, but it's not really my intention to do anything that takes place before part one, so this was just going to like slowly asphyxiate in my drafts unless I released it lol

She's going to live on Tumblr unless I somehow decide I want to do more of Whatever This Is in the future, but since it takes place before the series you don't need to have read the other parts which is sexy.

Read More for like 3k of Gay Shit~

* * *

Hay wasn’t the smell that Joe would have gravitated to normally. The mulchy wetness in combination with the dry and yeasty texture always made him think of bugs, and this feeling was not a welcome one when forced to be bedded down on a big pile of the stuff. Each breath full of the smell was nearly enough to make him gag.

Still, beat sleeping outside. And the smell was strong enough to cancel out his own smell, which, he knows from experience, isn’t a walk in the park right now either. 

He had settled into a comfortable enough doze by the time his mind caught onto the frankly annoying fucking snoring emanating from the corner of the barn. Cracking his eyes open, he glared into the corner where a Hoobler shape slump is curled up against the wall, snoring away into the dark with an unfamiliar body sprawled on the ground a few feet away, seeming unperturbed.

One fucking night is all he’s asking for. Fuck.

Pulling in an aggravated breath, Joe sat up from his hay-bed, contemplating whether or not to try and ignore the sound or move out completely to a quieter spot. He glanced towards the door of the barn, where clear moonlight cut across the ground to illuminate the dry, if a hint cold, night beyond. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to sleep out tonight if he had to, he supposed. 

He’s taking in the details of the scene outside when he spots what looks to be the toe of a boot popping out from beside the doorway. For a moment his heart picks up, hand moving to grasp onto his rifle, but the boot doesn’t move, just remains planted solidly in the dirt. The longer he looks, though, the more he makes out a calf, leading to a body sitting against the wall outside.

It’s curiosity more than anything that brings him to his feet. What kind of guy doesn’t fucking drop the second he gets an opportunity? 

Of course it’s Webster.

He doesn’t know why the realization brings a smile to his face. Why the sight of the other man leaning up against the barn, legs bent and beaten up notebook in his lap, makes him feel oddly alive. He doesn’t even know Webster that well, only spoken to him one-on-one maybe a handful of times at most, and definitely doesn’t know him as well as he knows some of the other guys. 

But still, he feels light. Light enough to step outside and look down in amusement at Webster, who in turn looks up at Joe in bewilderment. “Trouble sleeping in the dirt, Web?”

Bewilderment turns critical as Web frowns, eyes falling back down to his book as he continues writing. “Not tired.”

Snickering, Joe stepped around Web to let his own back hit the barn, sliding down to slouch beside the other man. “Always knew there was something wrong with you.”

He’s digging for his smokes in his pocket when he realizes that Web’s hand has stilled, and that the other man is looking aside at him with an inscrutable expression, eyes glancing over Joe’s face in the near-dark. “What?” he asked, an edge of anxiety in his voice. 

Web’s face clears in an instant. “Nothing,” he sighed, turning back to his book. Even in the shadows Joe can see the tips of his ears are red. 

“Right,” Joe nods disbelievingly, holding out his pack in an attempt to dispel the strange air surrounding them. Web takes one gratefully, mumbling a thanks as Joe placed one between his lips, holding his lighter up between them. They bend in towards each other, close enough that Joe can smell Web; a dirty, grass-like smell with an undercurrent of that same sweat all the guys have now. 

Better than hay, he thinks as Web draws back with his cigarette lit, before snapping the lighter closed and smoking in silence for a few moments. He finds his eyes drawn ceaselessly to Web’s pale hand as it moves across the page, turns to the next, and continues on. Web has good hands, he thinks to himself, before blinking the thought away. 

Doesn’t mean he stops looking, though.

“What are you writing about?” he asks softly, voice creaking a bit.

Web looks at him, face more open as he sighs out a stream of smoke. “Eindhoven.”

“Got a dame you want to remember, huh?”

Web huffs a small laugh. “No,” he takes another pull on his smoke, breathing deep and exhaling steadily. “I just don’t want to forget what it was like. How it felt.” 

Joe smiled quizzically. “Writing a book or something?”

“I don’t know,” Web replies, and it’s such an obvious lie Joe can’t help but laugh. This earns him a withering glare. “Even if I was, why do you care, Liebgott?”

“I don’t,” Joe bites, and it’s such an obvious lie of his own that Web laughs at him. “Guess I’m having trouble imagining anybody wanting to read about you.”

Web scowled at him. “Well, it wouldn’t be just about me, that’s not the point.”

“So you are writing a book?” Joe grinned, bringing his dying cigarette back to his lips. 

Mouth opening and then closing just to open again, Web looks at Joe in bare-faced annoyance. “You...” he trailed, seemingly having trouble finding the exact right word to express how irritated he was.

“You’re going to catch flies, buddy,” Joe smirked, grinding the butt of his smoke in the dirt and almost snickering as Web’s lips clamped shut. “Anyway, don’t count your chickens, Webster. War ain’t over yet and I doubt anything you replacements have to say would be worth a damn.”

This snaps Web out of whatever annoyance induced fugue state he was entering. “I’m not a fucking replacement, Liebgott,” he snapped, eyes glinting at Joe’s in the moonlight. “I was in Normandy, same as you. And even if I hadn’t been, what gives you the right to treat me or any of the other guys like that?”

Scoffing, Joe found himself toeing the line between being amused at Web’s reaction and finding himself somehow actually getting hot. “Way I see it I get to talk to you or any of the other guys however I want,” he said, meeting Web’s eyes with no small degree of challenge. “Seeing as I was here from the beginning and all of you are just showing up to chew on the bones.”

Web stares at him for a moment, his pale face unguarded and awash with surprised pain. “So, what then? Babe isn’t Easy to you? I’m not Easy to you?”

“Babe proved himself.”

A sharp “Ha!” stung in Joe’s face as Web’s head tilted back momentarily, before the other man levelled him with a skeptical look. “You’re so full of shit that you don’t even realize you are, Liebgott.”

Joe shook his head, unsure of why the back of his neck was heating so rapidly. “Keep telling yourself that, Webster. Fact is, what you do out there’s going to matter more than whatever bullshit you’re scribbling in your diary.”

Web nodded mockingly. “Alright, Joe, so I just need to earn the approval of who? You?”

It’s said so sneeringly that Joe can’t help but be nasty back. “Eh, we’ll see if you make it back.”

The hum Web emits might be mistaken for a tease, but Joe can see the lines drawn on the other man’s face as he shoots his eyes down to the ground. “Right,” he nods, swiftly standing and grabbing his pack from the ground beside him, crushing his smoke under his boot. “I’ll take it into consideration,” he says, shooting Joe a dark look over his shoulder. “‘Night.”

Joe blinks and Web is striding away, almost in the space of a breath. “Sleeping outside is for suckers!” he calls.

“Fuck you!” Web called back, casual and unaffected as anything, blue eyes glancing over his shoulder and back at Joe. They shot fire at him, and Joe all of a sudden feels as though he’s been struck by lightning, heat zig-zagging from his head all the way down through his bones. 

Inexplicably, he wants more of it.

As fast as Web was disappearing into the dark and the trees of the orchard beyond Joe is scrambling up, nearly running just to catch up with him. He settles at Web’s side as though they had not just devolved into verbal fisticuffs a few moments prior, and gleans some pleasure from the clearly agitated face the other man gives him as they continue moving along side by side.

“Yes?” Web prompts impatiently.

“What?” 

He holds back a smile at the roll of Web’s eyes. “What do you want, Joe?”

Joe has to scoff, shaking his head in the splintering shadows the darkened trees cast over them. “Like I’d want a goddamn thing from you, Web.”

The chuckle that greets him catches him slightly off guard, and he finds himself glancing back at the other man’s dark profile, the smile turning up the edges of Web’s full lips -

He shakes his head. 

“I don’t think you actually know what you want,” Web said teasingly, voice low in the quiet of the night, eyes darting over to catch onto Joe’s like hooks. “If you did you wouldn’t be following me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joe challenged, eyes still caught up in the knowing gleam of Web’s even as he tried in vain to gather the strength to break the connection. 

“You don’t know?” Web asked obliquely, an air of casual imperiousness settling over his words like a heavy fog.

All of a sudden they’re stopped in the dark, trees sprouted up all around them in a pattern that, were it light out, might have been effortlessly beautiful, but in the dark gave the distinct impression of a cage surrounding them, stars glimmering beyond the branches above like shattered glass. But he can see Web in uncomfortable clarity, stood before him with his eyes looking down on Joe like he knows something, like he has a secret that he stole away in the fucking dark of the night, and damn it Joe wants it back. 

“I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do,” he utters in what he intended to resemble a growl, but comes out sounding much more like a rasp. 

“Oh, really?” 

He steps into Web’s space, expecting Web to do what any other guy would have done and take a step back, and is met instead with Web’s unflinching conceit. With this added proximity he finds himself swallowing down some unnamable wave that rushes up through his body and threatens to spill out of him and straight onto Web, and in the dark he can feel his neck flushing.

If he can see Web in the dark then no doubt Web can see him right back.

He does, because his eyes move effortlessly from amusement, to annoyance, to resignation. “You don’t know,” he says definitively, and Joe can almost feel the words moving through the air between them.

Web says this as though it’s supposed to end the matter, break the connection, and yet if anything Joe can feel him moving in even closer, and it’s pure stubbornness that keeps him rooted to his spot. “What are you doing?” he murmurs, eyes moving down along the planes of Web’s pale face, drawn like a magnet to the sight of the other man’s lips, which are pink, and parted, and -

“What am I doing?” Web whispered back, sounding almost as though he was talking to himself, but their faces hovered close to each other in the dark for too long for him to not know what he’s doing, and the way his eyes aren’t on Joe’s eyes but lower, lower -

“I…” Web trails away in the second before suddenly their lips are meeting. And Joe knows he didn’t move, and he didn’t feel Web move, but they’re together, they’re connected, their mouths are moving against each other as soft as fucking clouds and their noses nudge and Joe’s neck is hot and it feels perfect, it feels like heaven to kiss Web, he’s kissing Webster - 

Reality shoots back into him like the sear of a bullet to the head, and as fast as their lips meet he’s shoving Web away. His hands meet Web’s shoulders roughly, pushing him with strength that he almost didn’t know he had in him, and where the fuck was this side of him back in Toccoa?

But he only gets to relish the gasp of air back into his body for a moment, as his forceful push sends Web careening back, feet tripping backwards over the knobby roots of the trees surrounding them, and he hits the ground hard. 

“Oh, shit,” he spits, immediately moving to narrow the space between them yet again, dropping to his knees beside Web’s downed form. “Are you alright? I’m sorry, are you alright?”

For his part, Web looks a little dazed by the quick pivots of Joe’s mood in just the last few seconds, and blinks rapidly in the shadows before coughing. “You’re like a fucking child, Christ.”

“Hey,” Joe mutters, flush deepening with embarrassment, with confusion. 

Web’s eyes are on him again, and he only just keeps himself from shrinking back because where he had anticipated the usual swell of annoyance or of, please, anger, Web appears almost hesitant and...what? Fearful? His gaze moves over Joe’s face quickly, as though measuring every line, every angle, searching for something.

“What?” Joe croaks. “You scared?”

Swallowing heavily, the other man quirks a disbelieving eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

“No, I -” he starts, before abruptly halting. It’s a lie, he is afraid. But not of Web, who’s still looking at Joe like he half believes Joe’s going to clobber him, but of himself. He’s never done anything like that before, never even allowed himself to linger on the thought of it for longer than the space of one thought between another. Certainly he hadn’t ever drawn Web into those fleeting moments. Well, not in a traditional way at least.

If he palmed his cock and saw Web’s hands, or the curve of his jaw, then that’s nobody’s business. He thinks about a lot of things.

“No,” he settles.

Web doesn’t look like he quite believes him, if the distressed curve of his lips is anything to go by, and Joe reaches out to settle a hand on his neck just to see the way his eyes widen. He swallows, feeling a shiver pass through him at this simple, voluntary touch, and before he knows it he’s smiling, and at the sight of his smile Web is smiling back. And if he’s been paying special attention to parts of Web lately his smile hasn’t been one.

It is now.

“Alright,” Joe whispers through half of a chuckle, shaking his head. “Can I kiss you again?”

Smile melting from relief to happiness, Web looks as though he’d do just about anything Joe asked him to, but he manages to huff a tiny laugh first. “Are you going to push me again?”

Rolling his eyes, Joe tugged at his light hold on Web’s neck, blood heating at the way the other man’s eyes fluttered. “No.”

Shifting up from where he’d been braced back on his arms, Web reached out to take gentle hold of either side of Joe’s face, one hand combing back through his dirty hair. “Then yes,” he nodded. “Yes, please.”

This time they pull each other into the kiss, their lips meeting again just as softly as before, slotting together with an ease that felt almost unnatural with disuse. His hand rubbed clumsily at the skin of Web’s neck, easing himself back into the rhythm of kissing. It wasn’t enough that he hadn’t kissed anyone since Georgia, but now he’s kissing a man on top of that, and the combination of sensations has him shuddering and hardening in his pants even before he feels Web’s tongue gently asking permission into his mouth. 

His mouth falls open with the slightest pull to his hair, and he welcomes the other man’s tongue with a grace he honestly feels he should be lauded for. He’s been with some forthcoming dames, to be sure, but none of them have felt this strong or as sure in his arms, letting Joe take and taking Joe right back. It’s something he could easily get addicted to, he thinks, as his tongue presses in to play over Web’s and he firmly wraps his other arm around the other man’s waist.

Web’s arms wrapping around his neck are overwhelming at first, before he feels their bodies, pressed together, easing back to rest on the dark, mossy, ground. They settle side by side, facing each other, legs fumbling and maneuvering around until Web has one leg thrown easily over Joe’s hip and Joe has one knee pressed steadily between the spread of Web’s thighs.

They split apart at the first accidental nudge of their crotches against one another, Web gasping and Joe hissing, before Web begins gently kissing down along his jaw.

“You taste like olives, a bit,” Joe said hoarsely, catching his breath as though he just ran up Currahee.

“Oh, sorry,” Web apologized, glancing back up at Joe’s face with a furrowed brow.

Joe shook his head, pressing a kiss just off Web’s lips. “I like olives,” he rebuffed, pulling their mouths back together in a smacking kiss. “Fuck,” he gasped softly, pressing in to kiss along Web’s neck beside his ear. “You done this before?”

Web breathed out a little tremble, smoothing his hand up Joe’s back. “Kissed a man?”

“Yeah,” Joe rasped, swallowing heavily as his hips rolled against Web’s own, lazy but with intention.

The nod of the other man’s head draws him out of his fascination with Web’s neck, and he finds himself pressing an exhilarated kiss against Web’s cheek as he speaks. “Yes,” he admits in a whisper. “Not- ah, not many, but yes, I -”

He’s laying another, harder kiss against Web’s lips at the self-conscious wobble of the words, his tongue sweeping through Web’s mouth as though to gather them and take them back into himself. Groaning as the leg Web had thrown over him tightened, bringing them almost fully flush, he brought one hand down to grasp tightly at the meaty flesh of the other man’s thigh, pulling it gently upwards and had to smile at the pleased hum that rattled around Web’s body.

“Have you?” Web asked gently.

Joe shook his head. “No.”

“Oh,” Web murmured, pulling in a deep breath at the steady roll of Joe’s hips against his own, head falling back against the darkened soil and baring his neck for Joe, who immediately resumed kissing along its length. “Lieb...Lieb…” he breathed, almost absentmindedly as Joe realized exactly how much he enjoyed when Web said his name. “Joe...we should- we should pump the breaks a bit.”

Pulling his face from the hot expanse of Web’s neck, Joe frowned down at him. “What?”

“No, I -” Web swallowed, giving his head a clearing shake and blinking back towards Joe with a little more clarity. “I like it, I like it a lot, I’d just rather do this on the other side of tomorrow, if you know what I mean.”

The heat still pulsing through his veins screamed its discontent, but Joe reluctantly acknowledged that wherever this interaction was heading was now paused for the time being.

Figures, Web looks the part of a fucking tease, after all.

“Alright,” he muttered, releasing Web’s thigh with no small degree of bitterness, letting Web ease himself back just enough for Joe to feel distinctly burned. He sat up with a gently heating face, mindful to keep himself angled away enough that Web wouldn’t be able to see it, and looked around the orchard surrounding them, searching out anything to anchor his eyes to so that he didn’t have to think about Web’s lip, his legs, his eyes in the dark -

Eyes that meet his own once more, his chin caught gently in the other man’s warm palm as Web turned his face back. Web, at the very least, seems just as put out at stopping as he does, and for a moment he wants to be an asshole, wants to fight, but can’t bring his mouth to do anything but fall open, breathe.

“Can I?” Web asked quietly.

Joe could only nod.

The kiss is as light as a feather, whispering across his lips like dust settling, and he hums into the feeling and, suddenly, feels at peace. He runs one hand through Web’s hair, smoothing it, and gathers up the heat from the other man’s neck in the palm of his hand, bringing it back to himself like he had stolen his secret back from where Web had hidden it.

He pulls back softly, face still angled into Web’s sphere. “See you on the other side, huh?”

Web sighed, nose brushing Joe’s own, and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them to look teasingly back at him. 

“Arschloch,” he drawled, pushing Joe back with a soft touch to the base of his neck before standing, brushing dirt from his pants, and taking off into the darkness of the orchard without a glance back at Joe.

Joe watches him go, seeing for the first time the length of his limbs, the curve of his ass, and allows himself to want. He, as fast as lightning, very badly wants to find a patch of darkness to crowd him into tomorrow night.

If Web makes it back. If they both do.

Without a second thought, he’s up and following Web into the dark, ignorant and uncaring of their destination.