#i joined halfway through this is all i’ve caught

[dwtdog]

give sapnap his weed farm dream his quails and george his bull semen ? and they will all be happy

[illusioninfnty]

day 21 ; spitroasting

↠ roronoa zoro x reader x vinsmoke sanji

fandom: one piece word count: 2.1k warnings: nsfw 18+, caught in the act, jealous!zoro, possessiveness, spanking, praise, blowjob, face fucking, gagging, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation, cum marking, cum eating, creampie, aftercare, some unintentional homoerotic subtext if you squint

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

Grunts and skin slapping together are the only sounds in the room as Zoro fucks into you from behind.

Your arrangement with him was as simple as it could be, whenever the two of you were stressed, and whenever the other crew members were occupied, you would fuck. It was a lot easier than trying to pick up strangers from whatever bar you could find everytime you guys docked at a new town. The last time that happened, you may or may not have brought back someone that had a hidden vendetta against Luffy, and it resulted in yet another fight aboard the Going Merry.

Oh well. Mistakes happen.

You moan into the pillow beneath you, doing your best to conceal your sounds of pleasure. You were in Zoro’s bed, as all of the crew were out exploring the newest town

Despite that fact, it never hurts to be too careful. 

And indeed, you were right. Because not even a minute later, you hear the door to the men’s quarters open and you gasp in surprise. You involuntarily clench around Zoro, making him hiss as you both turn to see who walked in.

Sanji stands in the doorway, jaw dropped and suit jacket halfway off his body.

Zoro turns to maneuver the bed sheets in a way that covers your body from Sanji’s eyes. You could tell that the cook was staring at you, just by the way his eyes completely avoid your gaze and he looks upward as a blush rises to his cheeks. He looks cuter than ever in that moment, and maybe it's because you have a dick inside of you at that very moment, but you desperately want to fuck him to see what other reactions you can get out of him.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Zoro growls out. The hand that was splayed across your hip tightens in anger the longer Sanji stands there. “Fucking scram.”

You could tell by his initial embarrassment that Sanji was planning on leaving, but Zoro’s reaction has him heated up, and you know that neither of them will let the other have the last word.

You roll your eyes and get settled in, waiting for the argument to begin.

Sanji tsks at Zoro, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “Putting her in such a degrading position like that, it’s a wonder she stays with you.”

“She stays with me ‘cause I fuck her right every time. Not like she’d have the same experience with you.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve never gotten a single complaint about my performance in the bedroom!”

“Yeah, right. Like she’d ever go for you when she has me here.”

“A-actually,” you speak up for the first time during their spat. Both men turn to you, Sanji with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, and Zoro, who’s glare seems to scream don’t you dare, as if he knew exactly what you were going to suggest.

“Sanji,” you swallow, hoping you’re not making a mistake, “you should join us.”

“Join—?” He chokes on his spit, and you can see the way his cheeks turn red from his blush. 

“Please?” you put on a classic pout that you know will make Sanji weak in the knees.

Hook, line, and sinker.

He scratches the back of his neck, feigning concession. But you can see the tent in his pants that is clear as day. “If you insist, madam.”

“Madam,” Zoro mutters from behind you, mocking Sanji’s choice of word. You kick at the back of his leg in warning.

Sanji approaches you in the front of the bed (staying as far away from Zoro as possible, you notice) and stares at you hesitantly. You motion him closer, and begin palming his erection through his pants. He moans softly, his hips subtly bucking into your touch.

Zoro, having enough of your attention pulled away from him, begins to thrust back into you from behind. The sudden movement has you moaning, and the force of it pushes you right into Sanji’s crotch.

The ship’s cook grabs your hair by the root and keeps you in place with one hand as he uses his other to undo his pants and free his cock from its constraints. His hard erection springs out, hitting you in the face, and without any prompting you stick it in your mouth, sucking on it furiously.

You bob your head up and down, swallowing him all the way down to the root. You swirl your tongue around the head, and Sanji’s grip in your hair tightens as he groans from the sensation.

“Better not make any noises over there, cook,” Zoro says. “I was planning on finishing.”

Sanji’s response comes back within a second. “I can’t help it when your woman is giving all her attention to me.”

You don’t even need to be looking at Zoro to know what his reaction is to that—you can just picture the glare that he gives Sanji as he slaps your ass and ruts his hips into you more.

The force of his cock filling you to the brim has you moaning around Sanji’s cock as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your hands grip the sheets below you as you make a feeble attempt to stabilize yourself as you lay helpless between the two men who use your body for their pleasure.

Zoro does his best to ignore Sanji and occupies himself with grabbing the flesh of your ass and spreading you open wider than before. He bullies his cock deep inside of you, and the bulbous head reaches parts of you that have your vision going blurry and your mind going numb, only able to focus on how much he fills you up.

“You see this?” Zoro motions to you, and the way your body shakes in pleasure from his cock thrusting deep with you. “This is all ‘cause of me. You couldn’t make her feel even half as good.”

As you look up at Sanji through your teary vision, you can see the way his eyes narrow at Zoro’s fighting words. Suddenly your nose is pressed up against Sanji’s pubic bone, his cock stuffed all the way down your throat, you cough and gag around him, spit dribbling down the sides of your mouth yet he doesn’t relent.

He has one hand entangled in your hair at the scalp, and the other moves to wrap itself around your neck, gripping it lightly, feeling the imprint of his cock on your throat as he fucks it in and our of your mouth.

You moan around him, relishing in the sensation of fullness that you’re getting inside of you from both ends. Your hands move to grasp onto Sanji’s thighs and you suck down as much as you can on his cock, gagging as his cock reaches as far as it could possibly go within your mouth. Tears start to stream down your face now at the way he pounds himself all the way to the back of your throat.

Sanji looks down at your reaction, and then up at Zoro with his trademark smirk. “Seems like she’s too occupied enjoying my cock down her throat.”

Both men are relentless in trying to prove themselves, and you’re on the receiving end of it. It seems as though you’re never going to catch a break between the two of them. They constantly try and one up each other, with each new action or technique they try on you has you edging closer and closer to your eventual orgasm.

The final straw is when Zoro, through his relentless ruts into you, begins to stick his thick fingers inside of your pussy as well, curling them up in the perfect spots where he knows you’ll fall apart.

And you do. You attempt to pull a hand back and slap him against his arm to warn him or your incoming orgasm, but Sanji’s grip in your hair remains as solid as ever and you don’t have enough strength to pull yourself back.

Your arms flop to your side, weak and useless, the two men being the only things holding your body up now. Your screams of pleasure are muted around Sanji’s cock, but the vibrations from it have him groaning nonetheless.

Your orgasm comes like a colossal wave, crashing down onto you with so much pain and pleasure it becomes too overwhelming to bear. Your whole body goes rigid as you climax. Your pussy clenches like a vice around Zoro’s cock, and your mouth tightens around Sanji. The two men groan in unison as your release washes over you, squirting juices all over yourself and Zoro, who you can hear laughing (and probably mocking Sanji) from behind you.

Neither man lets you rest after your orgasm, though. They both continue to fuck you with intense vigor, as if it’s their dying wishes. It’s Sanji who finally folds first and cums, doing so by holding you by your hair as he smashes your face all the way to the base of his cock. His groans are loud and continuous as you suck down on him furiously, swallowing the jets of cum that shoot out of him. 

A mix of your saliva and his cum leave the sides of your mouth as you do so, causing you to make a mess of his cock, slobbering all over it as he guides your head up and down.

“Fuck, so good for me,” he mutters out with his jaw clenched, just loud enough for you to hear, and you preen under the praise.

After he’s done cumming, you open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue for Sanji, showing him your empty mouth from swallowing all of him. And you’re glad you did so, because based on his lovesick expression alone it looked like he was about to cream himself for a second time that night.

Zoro cums soon after, his cock throbbing harshly as he buries himself to the hilt deep inside your pussy. He tends to be quiet when he cums, save for a few grunts here and there as the jets of hot liquid pour into you. But this time, you can hear him uttering praises to you.

“That’s it baby,” is what you hear the clearest through his groans, his voice gravely and deep. “Fuck, squeezing me so tightly. Could die in this pussy.”

If you literally didn’t just have your orgasm a second ago, you probably would have cum again right then and there.

Zoro always came inside of you whenever you two fucked, insisting on going bare. You never minded it; it felt better without a condom on, anyways. But you always knew that the reason why Zoro truly did it was because he loved marking you with his cum, seeing it drip outside of your pussy whenever he finished.

The swordsman reluctantly leaves your pussy after he cums. He watches the way the excess liquid seeps outside of your pussy, which still clenches around nothing, desperately looking for his cock again. He scoops it up with his fingers, pushing it back inside of you and barks out a laugh at the way you moan pathetically and your pussy walls quiver as they constrict around the shape of him.

He takes some of the excess left on his fingers and wipes it across your ass, rubbing it into your skin.

It takes you a couple of moments for you to finally open your eyes and register your surroundings after all of that. Zoro is wiping you with a wet cloth, and you see Sanji coming back in with a glass of water and a snack he no doubt whipped up quickly, then and there.

Once you’re finally calmed down from the overstimulation and cleaned off from all of the stickiness, you roll back into Zoro’s bed with a sigh collapsing from the exhaustion. Zoro moves in next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and rubbing circles into your skin.

Sanji glances at the two of you. “Room for one more?” he asks cheekily.

Zoro glares at Sanji and his arm tightens around you. “Fuck no. Piss off.” 

He closes his eyes, and within seconds he’s snoring away, dead to the world.

You look over at Sanji and roll your eyes at Zoro’s words. Silently, you scootch over in the bed, making some room for him. You motion with your hand for him to climb in, and he does so gladly, nestling himself into your body. With Zoro’s arm around you and your face resting in the crook of Sanji’s neck, you’re able to fall asleep quickly and peacefully sandwiched between your two favorite boys, not having a single care in the world.

[reobsessed]

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.

[short-honey-badger]

Trouble Sleeping

This is pure filthy smut, that's literally it. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! Smut SMut Smut! ABO universe as well. It's been a looong time since I've written for it. Pre time skip Law btw!

Pairings: Alpha! Trafalger D. Water Law x Omega! Reader

Summary: You notice that your captain hasn't slept in the past couple of days, so you offer to help him relax.

Part 2 ->

Masterlist.

It’s been what? Two? Three days since the last time Law had gotten a decent night’s rest? If it wasn’t the nightmares keeping him up every time he closed his eyes, then it was his incessant need to plan. To go over the research the alpha had begun to gather about Punk Hazard and Ceasar’s operation. It was all to get closer to Doflamingo of course, but Trafalgar would give anything not to have to deal with the disgusting scientist. 

And to get some rest, but the pirate doubted that would come anytime soon. 

Law wipes his eyes, pushing away from his desk and closing the thick folder of compiled notes. He needed a break, maybe even something to eat, too. The alpha’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food and he stood from his desk, grabbing his hat and fixing it properly on his head.

As he walked through the walls of familiar walls of the Polar Tang, Law thought about the newest member of his crew. While he wasn’t in the habit of picking up strays, you had piqued his interest when you wouldn’t stop bugging him and his crew about learning medicine. To quench his curiosity, Law had allowed you to come on board, and you have been a dutiful student ever since. And despite what Penguin and Shachi liked to think, it was not because you were a pretty omega in need asking for his help. Trafalgar liked to think he was better than his alpha instincts. 

Ah. Speaking of the omega, Law could smell your honeysuckle scent just around the corner. You must been in the galley. 

Law spots you at one of the tables in the corner, nose stuck in a medical text and a half-empty plate of whatever the cooks had made tonight. On a whim, he decides to grab a cup of coffee and his own serving and joins you at your table. You jump when he sets his plate down, but your expression brightens the moment you notice that it is your captain sitting across from you.

“Evening, Cap’n,” you greet, and Law finds his shoulders relaxing when he catches your scent again. It is warm and welcoming, soothing his frayed nerves with ease. 

“_-ya,” Law rumbles back in greeting and meets your eyes, smirking when he notices you watching him. He isn’t surprised when you speak up, but he doesn’t expect you to sound so concerned. 

“Have ya been gettin’ enough sleep Cap’n? Not ta speak out of turn, but you don’t look so good. A-and I’ve seen you roamin’ the halls more than usual,” you’re blushing when you finish, but Law finds your rambling endearing and doesn’t bother lying to you like he might others.

“Not really, little medic, but you shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” He assures you and then sips his coffee. He glances over to see that the omega doesn’t look very satisfied with his answer, and his instincts make themselves known when he catches a whiff of hot displeasure in your scent. 

Before Trafalgar can do much and possibly make a fool of himself, you speak up again. 

“Well, is there anything that I can do to help?” the omega asks, and Law pauses, arm stalling midair, fork halfway to his mouth. Despite the innocent way you ask the question, his mind goes straight to the gutter, and the pirate captain sees you on your knees in his bed, face down and ass up, presenting beautifully for him. Law can hear the way your cute accent whispers his name, pretty eyes glistening with tears as you beg him for his cock. 

“Cap’n? You okay, there?” A cool hand on his forehead and your soft voice bring the alpha out of his daydream, and he flushes even more at having been caught zoning out like that. 

“Ah, sorry about that, _-ya. Just tired, like I said,” Law murmurs and sets his fork down to hide his face behind his cup of coffee. You assure him that he is fine and tentatively go back to your book when it seems like Law isn’t going to answer your question. 

In reality, the alpha is pondering your question. It was a fact that omegas were able to put alphas in a calming state. Usually, Law wouldn’t mention it, but you had asked if you could do anything for him, and your omega pheromones would most likely do the trick and put him to sleep. 

“You know what,” Law begins and you jerk your head up to look at him, surprised that he’d spoken up, “I think you can help me out, little medic. If you’re done here?”

Your eyebrows jump up, and then the little omega is nodding, a happy smile painting your lips. Law watches you stand and close your book, tucking it under your arm and then tossing your cleaned plate in the sink at the back of the room. He follows your path, and then Law is leading you out of the kitchen and back to his office. 

The alpha keeps going, opening up the door in his office that connects to his bedroom. You tentatively follow after him, and Law’s alpha rumbles in satisfaction at having such a pretty omega in his room. His scent, clean and fresh with a hint of steel, coats everything, and Law quietly hopes that it sticks with you after you leave his room. 

Trafalgar doesn’t think twice about tossing his hat to the side and shrugging off his shirt. His jeans are replaced by a pair of soft sweats, and when he looks at you, your face is bright red, eyes wide in shock. Your scent sweetens with a hint of arousal and Law smirks, it’s a surprise, but not unwelcome.

“You’ve learned a lot while you’ve been here, _-ya. So you know that omegas can manipulate their scents to calm down the other sex in tense situations. It works better when they have been near one another for long periods of time. I’d like for you to do that for me if you’re comfortable with that.” 

Law watches the omega as you think, but it doesn’t take you long to come to a decision. You set your book aside and give him a shy, unsure smile. 

“Got another pair of sweatpants? Jeans aren’t very comfortable to lay down in.”

The alpha chuckles and then sets about finding another pair of sweats. A dark, possessive part of him is delighted at the sight of you standing in his room with a pair of too-big sweatpants, and Law has to fight down the almost overwhelming need to pull you into his bed to scent you. Instead, like the gentleman he is trying to be, Law pulls back the covers of his bed and stands back, offering for you to crawl in first. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” the alpha drawls, and watches with lidded eyes as you slip into his his bed. He follows after and cuts the lights with a flick of his fingers and the use of his devil fruit. Law hears you suck in a sharp breath when he settles in beside you, laying on his side and tossing an arm over your hip. He emits his own calming pheromones and blinks at the back of your head when you take deep, shuddering breaths of his scent. 

The alpha hadn’t expected you to do that, but the sight of you breathing in his scent made his hold on you tighten, and Law pulled you back into his chest, leaning down to bury his face in your hair. He hums when you lift your leg, and he slips his thigh in between your legs, bringing the two of you impossibly closer. 

After that, it is easy for the two of you to relax, honeysuckle and steel mixing to create a unique scent that represents the alpha and omega. Being surrounded by the combined scent leaves Law feeling drowsy, eyes fluttering shut as he shoves his face closer to the scent gland on your neck, desperate for more of that sweet honeysuckle. You squirm for half a second and then settle again, content to help out your captain where you can.

Neither of you expects to fall asleep, but when Law wakes, he feels far more refreshed than he has in a long time. He cracks open his eyes and takes in the new position the two of you shifted to in sleep. Trafalgar lays on his back and the little omega has sprawled over his chest, your face pressed into the hollow of his throat, and arms wrapped around his neck. His arms are wrapped securely around your waist, and Law smiles when you mutter softly and shift in your sleep.

Law contemplates going back to sleep, but then you shift again, and all thoughts of sleep fly out of his mind when your hip brushes against his cock. He fights back a groan, tattooed hands flexing and digging into your soft skin. Fuck. He wants you. He wants your attention, and your pretty eyes and plush mouth on him all the time. The alpha wants to bite you, sink his teeth into your nape, and claim you as his. 

He rolls, trapping you under him, and you wake with a gasp, eyes flying open to stare at your captain who looms above you. He looks frightening in the low light of his room, but the way his scent is wrapped around you is nothing but comforting. You aren’t scared of this dangerous alpha. 

“_-ya,” Law growls your name, dipping down to press his brow against your own, eyes catching yours and glowing with hot arousal, “You did so well for me. Helping me get some rest. Let me reward such a good omega.” 

The way your scent turns hot and sticky with arousal is enough of an answer for Law. He turns his head, keeping himself held up with one arm as the other grips your jaw. Trafalgar’s lips meet your own in a steamy kiss. He smooths his thumb up, catching your bottom lip and tugging it down, pulling your mouth open enough to slip his tongue inside. 

You whine under him, hands digging into his hair to the point of pain, but it only makes the alpha groan into the kiss. Law’s dick throbs in his pants, so he moves, grinding up into the welcoming heat between his legs. The friction is delicious, but it isn’t enough. 

Law lifts himself up, breaking the kiss and leaving you winded. Your pupils are blown, and your mouth is bright red from the way his facial hair has rubbed against your skin. He shimmies down, hands finding the waistband of the sweats you wear and hooking his fingers under them. He makes sure to catch the other elastic band he feels and tugs the pants and your underwear down in one fell swoop. 

“Fuck, you smell so good, Baby,” Law rumbles and shoves his face in the slope of your right, lips mouthing at the minor scent glands there. You cry out and grp his hair even harder, eyes blown wide as you watch him breathe you in, “Like honey and warm desserts.” 

“Y-you smell good too, Cap’n,” You whisper, voice shaking as you try and deal with the pleasure that Law smothers you with, “Clean and fresh. I like it.” 

A low growl erupts in the room and Law rewards your compliment by flattening his tongue and licking a stripe along your entire cunt. The alpha groans at the taste, your slick is just as sweet as you smell, and Trafalgar regrets never asking you to his room sooner. He grabs your hips, lifting them so that he can point his tongue and shove it deep into your leaking hole. 

You wail, curses falling from your lips as you buck your hips against his face, seeking that burning pleasure that only Law can give you. The alpha drinks from you, lewd slurping sounds filling the room until you are bowing forward and pulling him off your cunt. 

Law’s face is soaked in your juices, and he bares his teeth at you for pushing him away. He would know if he’d made you come, and he looks at you to demand an answer. 

“I want you to fuck me, Cap’n,” You say and it stalls Law in his tracks. Your eyes shine with want and you grip his shoulders, nails digging in, “I- I want to come on your cock, not your tongue.” 

The pirate can’t get his pants off fast enough. His lanky legs end up getting tangled in his sweats, but you patiently extract the fabric and toss them to the floor. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, and slick leaks out of you to stain Law’s sheets. The alpha’s dick is the perfect specimen, thick at the base, knot looking inflated already. His length tapers up slightly, only to end in a silky head that leaks with precum. 

“Get on your knees, Baby. Present for me, yeah?” Law orders and you scramble to obey, brain mush with alpha pheromones that leave you feeling fuzzy. 

His omega rolls to their knees, thighs parted in a wonderful display of trust. You bite the pillow under you, whining when your senses are overwhelmed with the scent of your Captain. Tears leak from your eyes and a low cry escapes you when Law drapes himself over your back, cock slotting between your legs and dragging over your pussy. 

Law ruts against you, coating his dick in your slick until his member is nice and soaked. He leans back enough to grab the base, angling it up to run the head of his cock through your folds. You sob at the feeling, back arching and hips shaking in search of him. 

“Please, Law. I’m wet enough, just put it in,” You whine and the alpha growls at the way you beg him. His tip catches your entrance on his neck stroke, and Law doesn’t stop gravity as he sinks into your warm heat. 

You feel amazing around him, walls fluttering and gripping his cock so tightly that Law hisses as he sicks another inch down. His mouth drops, and he sucks in greedy mouthfuls of your scent, leaning down to nip at the gland on your neck where the sweet smell is the most potent. 

“You’re mine after this, got it, omega? No one else can have you this way. No one else can feel your tight cunt other than me,” Law snarls and you nod frantically, face still pressed into the pillows. 

The alpha doesn’t wait any longer, sinking the rest of the way inside and snarling at the way his knot catches on your walls. It's overwhelming, and Law presses his forehead harshly against your shoulder blades to prevent himself from biting you. Now wasn’t the time to try and forge a mating bond. Not when Doflamingo still threatened everything that Law cared for. 

Trafalgar fucks you like a man possessed, hands harsh and fingertips digging in hard enough to leave bruises. He snaps his hips, dragging his cock along your walls as you clench and flutter around him. He changes angles, slowing down only to roughly slam into you, and you shout when his dick catches against that spongy spot inside of you. 

Law grins, teeth bared in a feral grin as he focuses on that spot and pounds into your cunt. Your hands grip the sheets hard enough the tear them, tears leaking down your face as Law abuses that spot inside of you. It’s not long before the alpha has you shouting your name, jaw dropping open in a silent scream as you come around his cock. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Law chants when your cunt constricts around him. He wants to come inside of you, pump you so full of his seed that it would be dripping out for the next week. But knotting you means pups, and those aren’t something that anyone needs right now. 

So, despite his instincts screaming at him to mark you on the inside, Law pulls out when he feels that tension snap, pumping his dick and instead painting your backside and cunt with his spend. He milks his cock, shaking and whining as he gently massages his knot. Your hips have fallen without Law to hold you up, but that doesn’t stop him from draping himself back over the omega, hand finding your hip and rubbing his cum into your skin. He needed to make sure that you were properly covered after all. 

Below him, you settle into the comfy bed and close your eyes. You are content to let your alpha take care of you, and so easily fall back to sleep. 

Your captain snickers softly when he notices that his omega has already dropped back off to sleep, and rolls the two of you to the side, snuggling close and closing his eyes. He’d take you to the shower later, but for now, Law was just happy that you were here to help him go back to sleep too. 

[magicalmysteries777]

"You're clueless, you know that?" - Reader x Eddie Munson & Reader x Steve Harrington (fake)

Summary: You agree to accompany Steve to Enzo's for Valentine's Day with only one shared goal in mind - to make Eddie so jealous he has no choice but to have the one conversation he's being avoiding.

Pairings: F!Reader x Steve Harrington & F!Reader x Eddie Munson.

Chapter: 1 of 1.

W/C: 2314.

A/N: Happy Valentines Day, besties! This trope paired with Steve and Eddie has had me in a chokehold for a while now and I'm so happy that the lil ADHD gremlin in my brain has finally let me write the damn thing. <3

This one-shot can also be found on AO3 here.

“You really think that’ll work? Pretending to go on a date with you?” you asked, leaning against the counter at Family Video.

“It better work. Personally, I’m sick of hearing you pine over him. He’s had a thing for you ever since you joined Hellfire but he’s completely clueless when it comes to all the hints you’ve dropped,” Robin chimed in without looking up from the ‘returns’ pile of videotapes she was sorting through.

Clueless didn’t even begin to cut it.

You’d known about Eddie’s crush on you for months now, ever since Dustin slipped up and spilled the beans at lunch one day. The poor kid made you swear on your own life that you wouldn’t tell Eddie you knew.

True to your word, you kept the secret and began dropping hints instead. Eddie couldn’t read the room to save his life.

Any time you caught him staring, he’d break eye contact before you could smile back at him. Any time your hands accidentally touched, he’d move his hand away and play it off if you didn’t keep your hand perfectly still.

“I think it’s perfect,” Steve smiled. “There’s nothing like a bit of jealously to make you realise what you want.”

“I dunno,” you mumbled, chewing your cheek while you weighed up your options.

“When he sees you all dolled up, thinking it’s for me, the dots will connect. Trust me.”

“Fine, I’ll find out when he’s working.”

-

Steve’s plan had been in the back of your mind the whole time you’d been sitting around the table with your fellow Hellfire members. It was a long game of highs and lows all night. Despite the distraction, you’d manage to come out of the battle victorious with a mere five health points left. The party, albeit a little bruised and battered, was one step closer to defeating Myrkul and Eddie was in a good mood.

It took the usual fifteen minutes to pack up Eddie’s maps, dice, tokens, and other various game pieces before you climbed into the passenger side of his van. “Sorry for the mess,” Eddie apologised.

“You say that every week and yet you never clean it.”

“I do, it just gets messy again,” he smirked.

You were halfway home when you glanced over at Eddie. His hair was frizzy, sticking up in places from all the near misses in battle where he’d had his hands running through it. The rings on his left hand were glowing gently from the reflection of his lit cigarette as he used it to control the steering wheel. His right hand was methodically fiddling with the busted cassette player that he’d been meaning to fix for months. As always when Eddie was concentrating, his tongue was sticking out and resting against his top lip.

“Got it!” he exclaimed as Rainbow in the Dark started blasting from the speaker, a huge grin spread across his face.

“When are you going to buy a new one?” you chuckled, prodding at the battered box.

“Stop touching it,” he slapped your hand away. “It’ll start crackling again. I’ve picked up some overtime next weekend, I’m hoping the gents will be tipping big to impress their dates.”

“No Valentine’s plan with anyone special then?”

“Nope, just work. Doubt there’s anyone out there who would want to spend their Valentine’s Day with the ‘Freak of Hawkins’ anyway.”

“You’d be surprised, some people like their men a little freaky.”

“What about you? Any plans?” he asked, the change in tone rather subtle.

For a moment, you weren’t sure if you were going to go through with the plan. Steve’s words echoed through your mind listed the pros and cons. ‘Trust me.’

“Yeah, I’ve got a date at Enzo's. At least I don’t have to worry about it going bad now if you’re working, you can come over and scare him off for me.”

“That’s great. Wow, a date. Um, yeah, I’ll fend him off for you if things go pear-shaped. Do I, uh, know the guy?” he stuttered.

“I don’t want to jinx it,” you answered, remembering Robin's claims that a little bit of mystery would be the key to the whole plan working.

“Of course,” Eddie agreed, a sarcastically dumb look plastered on his face. You couldn’t help but notice that this was exactly how he used to act when Dustin mentioned Steve. “Would you look at that? Here we are. Once again, dropped off in one piece, as requested.”

“You okay, Ed?” you ask, one eyebrow raised.

“Yep. Fine. Tired,” he mumbled through an unconvincing yawn. “Long game. I’m gonna go and, uh, get some sleep. Night.”

-

“And he said it exactly like that?” Steve asked.

“Yes, Steve, how many times do I have to go through it? He basically kicked me out of the van,” you answered.

“It’s definitely working.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. Wait until he finds out it’s me, he’s gonna freak.”

“He might not react at all. Believe it or not, he is professional at work.”

“Bet on it?”

“Shut up.”

-

Eddie had been an asshole all week.

Jeff and Gareth got the worst of it. You, however, had been getting the silent treatment. It was Thursday lunchtime when Eddie finally acknowledged you again.

“So, what are your plans this weekend?” Dustin asked Mike.

“Movies with El then dinner, you?”

“Arcade with Will. What about you, Eddie?”

“Work and band, why?”

“It’s called small talk,” Dustin answered. “What is with you this week?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he snapped.

“Tell your face that, man,” added Jeff.

“Lay off it. Why don’t you ask her what she’s doing this weekend instead and leave me alone?” Eddie prompted, gesturing in your direction. He did not stick around to hear the answer, walking away dramatically.

“Well, what are you doing?” asked Dustin.

“I’ve got a date,” you answered quickly and quietly, sinking into your seat as a sense of guilt began to creep up on you.

“You what?!” asked Gareth.

“I said I’ve got a date.”

“Yeah, I heard you. The fuck do you mean you’ve got a date? With who?”

“Does it matter?” you ask asked.

“Evidently it does. I’ve been taking the brunt of his crap all week and you’re telling me it’s because you’re going on a date?”

“How was I supposed to know he’d react like this?” you quickly try to defend yourself.

“Are you blind?” Jeff asks.

“No, but he is. I’ve dropped hints. Lots of them. If he doesn’t want to acknowledge it then that’s on him.”

-

“Wow,” smiled Steve, looking you up and down. He took your hand, albeit rather dramatically, and began leading you to the car.

“Save it for the restaurant, you dingus. Does this look okay then?” you ask.

“The dress alone might kill him, never mind the heels and hair.”

Ten minutes later, Steve parked up outside Enzo's.

“When we get in there, sit with your back to the bar. You’re about to get the full Harrington charm, okay?” he asked.

“Got it.”

“Hi there, table for two under Harrington,” Steve told the hostess.

“Follow me.”

“Here we are,” the hostess said as she gestured to a small table. “Here are your menus, the waiter will be over to take your order shortly.”

“Thank you,” you replied, taking the seat that Steve had pulled out for you.

“So,” you began.

“So,” Steve replied with a grin.

“I’m not going to lie, Steve, I feel really awkward.”

“I can tell,” he responded. “Relax. We’re just two friends, dressed up, and having a nice meal. Loosen up a little and have fun, or this isn’t going to work.”

You tried to relax, really, you did. But you couldn’t help shake the feeling that Eddie was burning holes into the back of your head with his staring.

“Welcome to Enzo's, my name is Ruben and I’ll be your server this evening. Any drinks to start?”

“Sparkling water for me, and…” Steve prompted.

“Lemonade, please.”

“Awesome, I’ll get that put in at the bar for you. Any starters today?”

“Do you-” Steve began, turning his attention back to you.

“More of a dessert person,” you answer.

“Me too,” smiled Ruben. “What mains would you like?”

“Lasagne for me, please,” answered Steve.

“Chicken Alfredo, please.”

“Awesome. I’ll get all that put in for you, enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, ‘preciate that,” Steve told him before he left the table.

After a couple of minutes of the usual “how was work?” and “how was school?” small talk, Steve’s gaze quickly shot behind you as he sat up a little bit straighter.

“Here’s your lemonade,” Eddie announced, placing the glass down in front of you.

“Thanks, Eddie. How’s your shift?” you asked with a smile.

“So-so. Started going downhill about twenty minutes ago,” he answered.

“Nothing worse than a shitty Friday shift,” Steve chimed in.

“Evening rush,” Eddie responded, unwilling to meet Steve’s gaze. “Everything okay over here?”

“Great, thank you,” you respond.

“Harrington,” Eddie muttered, placing Steve’s water in front of him with a little bit more force than he did the lemonade, before heading back to the bar.

“He won’t even look at me, this is working even better than I thought,” Steve chuckled.

-

One hour and one chicken alfredo later, Ruben returned.

“Well you two are looking cosy over here,” he told you. Steve had been giving you cues on how to sit and when to laugh all evening. “How about that dessert? I highly recommend the ‘brownie and ice cream for two.’ Chef special tonight.”

“Sounds perfect,” answered Steve.

“Alrighty, that’ll be about ten to fifteen minutes. Any more drinks?”

“The same again, please,” you answer.

A couple of minutes later, Steve gave another instruction.

“Rest your left arm on the table.”

“What?”

“Now.”

Steve let out a sudden laugh and adjusted himself in his seat. He placed his arm on the table, his fingertips slightly brushing against your own.

A loud crashing noise from behind you had heads rolling to see what was going on. Every pair of eyes in the restaurant landed on Eddie.

“Sorry folks,” he announced. Eddie quickly began picking up the larger shards of glass whilst another bartender brought over cloths and a broom.

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Steve whispered, loud enough for only you to hear.

-

You really were getting the full Harrington charm, as promised. Steve had been feeding you brownie on and off for ten minutes, his glancing over to Eddie quickly now and again.

“It’s almost time,” Steve whispered.

“Time for what?”

“The grand finale.”

Steve leaned in slightly and wiped the side of your mouth gently with his thumb. “Ice cream,” he smirked.

“Is that really necessary?”

“One hundred percent. On my cue, you’re going to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom,” he began.

“But-”

“If this whole fake date has gone to plan, which by the way has been lovely, then I do believe Munson won’t let you make it that far. Go now.”

As instructed, you excused yourself from the table and made your way towards the bathroom. Just as you got to the door you felt a hand close softly around your wrist.

“Hey, can we talk?” Eddie asked.

“Everything okay?”

“No, actually, it’s not,” he answered. Eddie glanced around before pulling you through a door labelled ‘staff only’.

“Eddie, wha-”

“You can’t date Steve.”

“I can date whoever I like Eddie,” you respond.

“Why him?” he asked, his hand still wrapped lightly around your wrist.

“Why not?”

“Because,” he began, pausing in thought. “Because he’s… he’s got a reputation. Surely you’ve heard all the rumours?”

“And we both know him well enough to know he’s not that person anymore,” you answer, your gaze locking with Eddie’s who, surprisingly, held it.

“You just can’t, please,” he pleaded.

“Give me a good enough reason as to why I shouldn’t go back out there and I won’t.”

Eddie stayed silent for a few moments, his big, brown eyes locked on yours. The small staff room became stuffy all of a sudden, the air so thick it felt like you could barely breathe. You held your ground, waiting for him to speak, but he didn’t. You stared back at Eddie, your eyes pleading with him to just say something. Anything.

You broke your gaze from Eddie’s and turned towards the door, ready to give up and go home. Eddie’s grip on your wrist tightened and he pulled you back towards him, using his free hand to cup your face as his lips met yours.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, Eddie kissing you, but it felt like forever. The tension in the air vanished, leaving you with a cozy feeling deep in your stomach, where the butterflies used to live. 

“You can do better than him. You deserve better than him. You deserve someone who knows that you take extra sugar in your coffee when you’re studying. Someone who knows that you’re a completely evil genius in the best way possible when it comes to D&D. Someone who knows you’d rather be in bed with a book at-” he glanced at his watch, “nine o’clock at night. Someone who apparently isn’t very good at making the first move.”

“You’re clueless, you know that?”

“I am?”

“Yeah,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him again.

If it wasn’t for Ruben who knows how long you would have stood there, entwined together, lost in the moment.

“Hey man, you heading home?” Eddie asked casually, placing a little distance between the two of you.

“I was, but turns out I’m staying late. Guy with the hair on table twelve tipped me a hundred bucks to finish your bar shift and fetch a fresh brownie out. Said you ‘owe him one’ and you can ‘square it up later’. Brownie will be out in five. Enjoy.”

[nebulousbrainsoup]

I’ve had this thought in my mind for a while and even at work I just couldn’t get it out of my head so I was wondering if you can write a Hongjoong smut and include the reader leaving kisses (maybe some hickeys) on Hongjoong’s “NO1LIKEME” tattoo, and that just making joong go ballistic and messing up the reader (in a good way ofc)☺️🫶

ohhhhh nonnie. yes, yes, 1000x yes you absolutely can. as someone who loves having their tattoos traced and such, you have my heart for this request. i'm smooching you on the forehead (with ur consent). i'm so very sorry this took so long my dear, but i hope you enjoy!

Mine

PAIRING: boyfriend!hongjoong x fem bodied!reader (no pronouns used) GENRE: smut, fluff TAGS/WARNINGS: established relationship, hongjoong's tattoo, no use of y/n, quick edit, the rest are under the cut~ WORD COUNT: 2.5k of mostly filth!

nsfw tags under the cut ; masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

this work is 18+. this is a friendly reminder that if i catch a minor interacting with this work, they will be blocked. so don't :)

divs from @cafekitsune

NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: pwp, pet names (love, dollface, little dove, angel), hickeys, thigh riding, edging, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (boo 👎), possessive!joong strikes again, creampie; lmk if i missed any

It had begun innocently enough. You were laid out across the couch with your head in Hongjoong’s lap, the most recent episode of what you two had deemed your show playing on the TV. He was enthralled, eyes glued to the screen, stomach twitching with his gasps and fist clenching the cushions every time something big happened. Your gaze, however, had been locked onto the black calligraphy etched into his skin, “NO1LIKEME” on display for anyone who dared think otherwise. The seasons were changing, the weather just this past month turning warm enough to force your boyfriend out of his sweaters and hoodies and, just as you had every year since he got it, you found yourself obsessing over his tattoo.

Thoughtlessly, you reached up, your fingers barely coming in contact with the ink before he jumped slightly, and you jerked your hand back. “S-Sorry.” You huffed a laugh, turning back to the TV to hide your visible embarrassment.

To your surprise, he let out a quiet giggle, and you glanced back up to find a curious half-smile on his face. “It’s okay," he reassured, “I just wasn’t expecting it.” You nodded slightly dismissively, lost in your own little world of mortification. Of all the things for him to catch you ogling, it was his tattoo. How weird did he think you were, now? 

Before you could delve too far down that particular shame-filled rabbit hole, a weight settled on your stomach, yanking you out of your spiral. Hongjoong’s hand had dropped from the couch, and when you tossed a confused look in his direction, you were met with a warm, reassuring smile. “Now you don’t have to reach up as far,” he muttered, giving your hip a squeeze before turning back to your show. The heat that had risen to your cheeks amplified as you blinked up at him in mild shock. 

When you reached up again, you caught his eyes flickering your way, and you could have sworn his arm shifted toward you, but he didn’t pull away this time. Gingerly, your fingers brushed over the line of text, one after the other, up and back down his inner arm. You felt his muscles twitch under the attention, his fingers tapping out the energy you were filling him with as you set his nerves alight. You smiled softly, sneaking one more glance to his face before all your focus shifted entirely back to the characters curling up over his bicep, touch remaining feather-light as you resolved to trace each one. The little jolts that shook his arm only grew in intensity as you continued your ministrations, entranced by every curve and line, lips parted in awe. 

The first quiet, nearly imperceptible change in his breathing was the little gasp left him when you were halfway through, your fingertip dancing over the loops dotting the ‘I.’ He shifted under you and you snuck a glance up to his face again and, finding his eyes still glued to the TV screen, you let your fingers continue their journey. The second came shortly thereafter, a ragged sigh leaving him when your touch left his skin just long enough to shift from the first ‘E’ to the ‘M,’ and this time he shifted with it, sitting up straighter and forcing your head closer to his knees. When you glanced up, you caught his gaze flickering away, eyelids hooded and plush lips parted as he turned back to the screen. 

You bit back the sly grin that threatened to break over your face, taking your time drawing over the last two letters before letting your hand fall back to your side. He let out another shaky breath, glancing down to flash you a slight smile. “Have fun?” You nodded, and his warm smile spread. “Good. It’s there any time you want it.”

His hand left your hip to reach for the couch cushions again, but before he could stray too far, you caught his wrist and flashed him a playful glare.

“I wasn’t done,” you huffed, earning a quiet giggle from him. 

“Okay, okay, go ahead.”

You grinned, shifting to sit up and watching with glee as his face shifted to confusion. You’d settled cross-legged, your back turned to the TV as you draped his arm over the back of the couch, returning it to its original position. Hongjoong had turned his attention from the show to you, following your movements with a confused, crooked smile. You flashed him an impish grin, trailing your fingers up and down his skin once more, delighting in the way his gaze darkened and he sighed. Barely managing to tear your eyes away from his face, you zeroed in on your next point of focus while your thumb swirled around it—the face doodled into the ‘O.’ 

Before he could protest, your head darted down, lips pressing against it. You felt him jerk underneath you, the couch cushions shifting beside you as he moved closer. Grinning against his skin, you let yourself wander, pressing increasingly open-mouthed kisses over the tattoo. You could feel him inching closer, each one making his arm twitch underneath you and pulling a quiet noise from him. Your eyes slipped shut as you drank them in, as you drank him in, your kisses lingering and your teeth beginning to graze his skin lightly. He hissed quietly with the first pinch, and you giggled to yourself, soothing the pain with your tongue. 

The feeling of his free arm wrapping around your waist made you jump, turning to find his face mere centimeters from your own with a dangerous fire sparking to life in his eyes. 

“What do you think you’re doing, love?”

You met him with that same impish grin he always wanted to wipe off of your face. “Having fun.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes with an amused smile, and if you hadn’t already decided on your next course of action, you would have right then and there. Flashing him a glare and a disgruntled frown, you leaned back down to his arm, sinking your teeth into the bare skin below the crossbar of the ‘K.’ Hongjoong jolted under you, his muscles tensing and a choked off groan falling from his lips as you sucked and bit at it, your tongue following closely behind to lessen the sting. When you sat back on your heels again, the pretty pink spot left behind had you beaming with pride, and you darted down to press another kiss over it. 

Before you could give anywhere else the same treatment, his grip on the cushions released and his hand snapped up, quickly fisting into the hair at your nape to pull you into a bruising kiss. Your noise of surprise was muffled by his lips and you melted into him, hands planting themselves firmly on his shoulders. His free arm wrapped its way around your waist and he tugged at you, guiding you to straddle his thigh. You were both breathless when he pulledyou back, lips red and swollen and eyes already glazing over. 

“You really like my tattoo, huh?” he breathed, letting his right arm fall back against the couch. Immediately, your eyes zeroed back in on the ink, and you nodded. “Give it some more attention, then, dollface. Show me how much you love it.”

The grin fixed on his face made your stomach flip, a pleasant mixture of anticipation and arousal lighting through you. Biting your lip, you nodded, attention turning back to the text curling up his bicep. After pressing a kiss to the mark you had already left, you quickly shifted to dot the ‘I’ with a mark of your own making, sucking and lapping at Hongjoong’s skin. The quiet sighs he let out were music to your ears, and you spared a glance toward him, catching his gaze as you found it fixed solidly on you. The corner of his mouth ticked back into that signature smirk of his and you felt his thigh twitch under you, your breath catching in your throat. You paused your work, pulling back with a satisfying pop to face him better. 

His smirk dropped, one eyebrow raising, and he relaxed again. “Done already?”

Heat and nerves coiled in your gut as he stared you down and you floundered for a response, shaking your head silently. Hongjoong always had a way of making you feel small with only a single look, like a mouse caught between a cat’s claws. Slowly, he let his eyes trail back to his tattoo, then back to your face. With a shaky sigh as your mind went a little hazy and lust-clouded, you returned your lips to his skin, resolving to trace every inch of the ink with your tongue. It only took seconds this time for his thigh to flex under you again, and you whined, grinding down against him. His quiet little giggle graced your ears and his free hand settled on your hip, encouraging you to continue your movements. With a soft whine, you complied, hips rolling against him. 

It was only a few short minutes before your arousal had you abandoning your work halfway through, moving instead to press open-mouthed kisses over his skin, nipping at it every so often. You could hear his breathing becoming increasingly ragged as you too became more desperate, the soft whimpers and sighs you let out becoming more frequent as he toyed with you. They were music to his ears and, when coupled with the feeling of your lips worshiping his skin and the sight of you rutting against him, he could feel his own arousal quickly becoming unbearable. A particularly hard bite had him groaning openly and his thigh pressing harder against your aching cunt as his hips sought friction. You released him, throwing your head back with a moan, and he took the opportunity to grab a fistful of your hair again. 

In a matter of seconds, Hongjoong had you face down against the couch, his fingers curling under the waistband of both your lounge shorts and your underwear. With one swift tug, you were left exposed to both the cold air and his hungry gaze. He let out a pleased sigh, one finger coming up to trace lightly between your folds, and a quiet giggle left him as he pulled it back, taking in the slick already coating it.

“Needy for me already,” he purred, and you nodded into the cushions, letting one of your legs fall from the side of the couch to spread yourself further for him. 

Leaning down, he lapped a fat stripe over you, earning a choked, breathy moan. Humming happily, he quickly dropped back down to your clit, lips quickly closing around the sensitive bud. You cried out as he sucked harshly on it, hands stretching out in front of you in search of anything more substantial to grab onto. He quickly shifted up, and you sighed in relief, eyes slipping shut as he began to work you open on his tongue—not that you needed the prep. You would never complain about the magic your boyfriend worked with his tongue, though, your hips rocking back eagerly against his face as you let out little whimpers and sighs. 

When he pulled away with one last lingering suck to your clit, you let out a keen he wanted on a recording, playing on loop in his ears. Sighing contentedly, he pressed one last kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves and sat back on his heels, promptly shoving his sweats down his thighs. You had barely recovered from the second high he’d dangled just out of your reach when you felt the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance, and your whines pitched up again, hips nudging back toward him. He pressed into you in one fluid motion, both of you letting out heady moans—you at the fullness of him, and Hongjoong at the way your walls hugged him. 

Once you had both had a moment to adjust, he pulled his hips back and snapped into you, the suddenness pulling a shout from your throat. He chuckled as he leaned over you and grabbed another handful of your hair, bracing himself on his right arm and forcing your gaze onto the marks you had left. He held his hips still as he pressed his back against yours, lips finding the skin just below your ear. 

“I’m yours,” he muttered against your skin, tugging at your hair lightly. 

A lazy smile spread across your lips and you nodded, committing the sight of his tattoo, painted with your marks, to memory. He laughed quietly at your already fucked out state, the noise sending electricity lighting down your spine. Without warning, he sank his teeth into your skin, pulling it between his teeth, sucking and laving at it enough that you were sure the mark he’d left would be a deep purple in the morning.

“And you’re mine, my little dove. Now sing for me.”

Pressing one last kiss to the mark he’d left, Hongjoong straightened back up, quickly setting into a brutal pace. Your quiet sighs and breathy whines were traded for full-throated moans and needy keens as he railed into you, one hand still in your hair while the other rested firmly on your hip. Each snap of his hips against yours punched another unfiltered sound or curse from you and you melted under him, back arching further into the couch below you. The shift had his cock dragging across your sweet spot with every stroke and you cried out his name, the high you’d lost building rapidly.

“Cum for me, angel,” he managed, pace picking up that much more as he began to use you to chase his own high. 

Only seconds more passed before you were unraveling around him, walls spasming and pulling him in tighter. A drawn-out groan was forced out of him as he fucked you through it, hips stuttering as his own climax washed over him like a wave. He bottomed out within you and you sighed happily, your own orgasm prolonged as thick ropes of his release painted your insides white. You were sated, full of him, surrounded by Hongjoong, a blissful smile gracing your features as you let yourself bask in the afterglow, floating somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness.

You were vaguely aware of movement in your peripheral when you came to again, and a shiver lit down your spine. You were cold, lonely and empty; but in a moment warmth and a familiar scent of home surrounded you, and your sleepy smile returned. Your eyes blinked open to find Hongjoong’s arms wrapped firmly around you. A few of the marks you’d left were visible from this angle, and you let out a pleased hum, leaning forward to press a kiss to one of them.

“Mine,” you sighed, and felt the little giggle that shook his chest.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to the space below your ear, echoing quietly, “Mine.”

TAGLISTS [all open]: permanent: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @soul-jae ateez: @pyeonghongrie-main @thatonenoona

© June 2023 nebulousbrainsoup | all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my work.

[loviingpedri]

they caught us - p. gavi

prompt: gavi x gamer!fem!reader. hard launching your relationship on stream

warnings: cursing, grammar issues

credits to owners for all images.

inspo for this story ^^

-

you were a growing streamer. big in the minecraft and riot games community. you appreciated your fans from the unconditional support. ever since being an exposed barca fan, your platform definitely grew. content was trending to the point where you met the one and only, pablo gavi. his simple message of complimenting you building camp nou in minecraft ended in a few date nights, a lot of kissing, and some risky nights. your fans wanted some player in barca to notice you, but little did you know that you spent your nights with your dream barca player everyday.

exposing your relationship was not in your agenda any time soon. it was the peak of your gaming career and gavi had big plans for the national team. the internet would practically blow up from the news. both of you were not ready for that amount of personal space to be invaded.

it was that time of the day to start your daily stream. it was a good balance of work and relationship. start your stream when gavi is at practice, and end it when he’s at home to solely focus on him.

“hello, hello everyone! welcome to today's stream." waiting a few seconds as more people started joining. “today will be a minecraft stream. i’m thinking of making the barca logo.”

reading the comments blow up by the mention of the club is probably the funniest thing you’ve seen.

“change your shirt on the minecraft skin the jersey of your favorite player. i love that idea, but i don’t really have a favorite player. maybe i’ll do xavi or something.” lying isn’t the best thing to do to your supporters, but personal business is personal business.

after playing for hours and halfway done with the logo, you hear the door opening. “one second guys, i think my roommate is home.” roommate meaning your boyfriend. the plan is really thought out. your best friend occasionally popped into the streams, pretending to be your roommate, and it works. thinking you muted and turned off your camera (which happens often), gavi walks into your gaming room.

“hi gorgeous,” walking in and instantly kissing you made both of you smile. “are you streaming?”

“yeah, i am. i was building the logo. i can show you later when i’m ‘done greeting my roommate’.” making quotation marks with your fingers.

“yeah i’ll sit over here. i’ll just look while you continue playing.” you blew a kiss at him as you put your headset back on.

“alright guys, i’m back. did i miss anything?” your eyes tried to keep up with the chat. it was going faster than usual. you thought it was a raid, but nothing was happening. everyone was going crazy. finally, a donation came through with a message.

read aloud from the automated voice, “viscabarcaaa_11 donated $10 with a message. 'was that gavi you just kissed?’” fuck. gavi quickly sat up from the seat. you realized your camera and microphone was never off. your eyes panning from screen to screen in panic. speechless, you turned red instantly.

you were kissin’ and they caught you whether you like it or not.

you cleared your throat, still don’t know what to say. gavi unplugged your headphones from your pc tower to be able to hear what was going on. he urged you to get up. you had no idea what he was doing, but you just listened.

sitting down, he spoke slow and steady. “hello everyone. this was a very unexpected thing for you. not to mention, an unexpected plan from us. y/n and i have been seeing each other for a few months now. it wasn’t really planned for us to be revealed this early, but thank you for supporting my girlfriend. i am glad to get this off of our chest, because i’ve been wanting to show her off.”

playfully pushing him to the side, “okay thank you for attending this stream, see you tomorrow. love you guys.” making sure you ended the stream fully before giving off a sigh.

“looks like i can show you off now.”

“okay, that’s enough fame for you.”

————————————————————

author’s note: this story has been sitting in my drafts for months and i’m deciding to complete it on a random weekday.

[zeestarfishalien]

(In)evitable

[DPxDC Week Day 6: Dan Phantom // Ghost King Danny // Lightning]

•No ships and no warnings on this one

The music coming from Phantom’s belt was uncharacteristically bright against the way that his face paled to an icy white.

The Bat was first to respond.

“Phantom, what’s going on?”

Phantom actually fumbled a little as he dug a non-league communicator out of his belt and silenced it. He didn’t look at the screen, which meant the music chosen was for a specific warning.

“A zone problem.”

But Superman and others with enhanced hearing caught the barely there breath of a word, “hopefully.”

“We can send some back up with you,” Wonder Woman offered.

“No.” He said it too quickly and seemed to realize it because he added, “no, it’s all good guys. I’ve got this. It’s no big deal, really.”

That last statement was a lie and they all knew it. Phantom winced as he realized it.

“Phantom, we are fully equipped to help you wi-“

“I said, no.” There was a cold authoritative tone to his voice as Phantom’s eyes flashed blue. “Not for this. Never for this.”

With that, Phantom did something he rarely ever did near them, he ripped a hole in the fabric of reality and left via the bleeding green portal. It closed behind him with a snap only leaving behind a few drops of ectoplasm that quickly dissipated.

The room, full with a number of Earth’s heroes, remained uncharacteristically silent.

“Captain Marvel, keep an eye out for signs of Phantom’s return,” Batman ordered.

“Got it.”

~•~

There were no signs of Phantom for almost 3 days.

Late on the third day the JL Threat Watch reported a sighting of him in the sky over Chicago. He and a ghost in a similar outfit fought in the sky, breaking holes in two skyscrapers and several big chain grocery stores before Phantom threw the other ghost higher in the sky. He took off after and neither were seen in Chicago again.

It takes another 12 hours before they can track down Phantom’s whereabouts. He’s still fighting the same ghost.

They look similar. It’s impossible to deny the similarities even while the other ghost is far more bulky than the lanky 20-something Phantom.

Both are bleeding ectoplasm and looking worse for wear.

It’s Captain Marvel who’s first on the scene and prepping to join Phantom but it’s the other ghost that spots him first and a malicious grin splits his face.

“Perfect,” he says. Marvel stops in his tracks mid-air suddenly uncertain. The gods are dead silent.

Faster than Marvel can track, the ghost is in front of him with an arm halfway in his chest.

“HALT.” The words vibrate Marvel’s bones and obviously they’re affecting the strange ghost because he’s unmoving and looking very confused about it.

“Cap, get out of here. Keep everyone away. He will try to kill or use any heroes and villains that come within our radius.” Phantom’s voice is normal again and in that forced calm tone that people use when they don’t want people to freak out during a life or death situation.

Marvel doesn’t argue. He knows that look in Phantom’s eyes and he’s not about to test the truth in his words without more protection.

~•~

Dan is fighting the command for all he’s worth and Danny eases up on it without verbal confirmation. Marvel is gone. He’s safe for now and Danny has just laid out his trump card.

Dan slowly turns to face him.

“What was that?” He snarls. Danny wonders how Dan managed to go his whole life without knowing about or waking Pariah Dark.

“What do you think?” He’s not about to tell the man.

“How did you command me like that?” He’s seething mad and Danny doesn’t want to tell him but he’s pretty sure Dan will just run off to hide out if Danny refuses to give him anything.

“I’ve achieved something you never even thought of. Guess you’re not as inevitable as you thought.” He cant help letting his facade of uncertainty fall away.

“How.” It’s a demand, not a question.

“You cannot disobey your king’s order,” he says calmly and watches with faint amusement as Dan goes through shock and then what seems like the five stages of grief.

“You must challenge me for the throne in order to stand a chance against me.”

“You were playing with me this whole time…”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t make sure you had all the information,” Danny says as he allows the zone to flow into him and replenish his stores of ectoplasm. His wounds seal back together like they were never there while Dan watches with increasing rage.

“Why you little…” His breathing turns ragged and Danny can almost see steam pouring from his ears. “I challenge you then.”

Danny doesn’t wait for Dan to attack first. His shot misses but that’s not what matters; it’s not giving Dan a moment to think and gather his strength. Dan doesn’t know the implications or the rules. Dan doesn’t know the game like Danny does.

And it shows pretty early on in their duel. It’s frowned upon for the king to just outright squash anyone that goes against their rules. It’s frowned upon to order by compulsion unless in dire circumstances (protecting Captain marvel). It is seen as sporting to play fight with one’s subjects and to not take that fight too seriously unless the subject goes too far. And finally, all bets are off as soon as one challenges the king. Danny’s magic won’t work on Dan for the duration of the duel but no one will be locking him up in a coffin of forever sleep for putting the beat down on his alternate self.

So the fight is a lot more one sided but it’s not until Dan goes looking for one of the living to hold hostage that Danny really cracks down with the one thing he knows Dan fears most (because he used to fear it too).

Lightning.

He calls the clouds and charges the air until he can pull the lightning how he sees fit.

The first strike zings by mere inches from Dan’s face. The big man can’t help the trembling his hands do but he spins to face the electrically charged Danny.

Electricity crackles through his frosty hair. Lightning isn’t exactly the most conducive for Danny’s Space Core but it’s something he mastered because he needed it not to be his weakness.

“Yield.” Dan’s jaw tightens and Danny can see the mutiny in his eyes. He lets more lightning strike behind Dan, making him jump.

“You are not inevitable. You are not me, not anymore,” Danny states firmly. He knows he’ll have hell to pay when the JL get to him after this but ancients does it feel good.

Okay this one was finicky with me so it’s not how I wanted it to go but imma just let it be. Tomorrow’s is a fun one. Another surprise one. I’m excited to share it when I finish.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

your writing is incredible! do you mind writing something about dilf dave mustaine corrupting young female reader

Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoy my writing!

A/n: I got, like, halfway through writing this and then had a better idea on how I could've answered this request but I didn't want to rewrite it because I still liked the story so I hope you still like it just as much :3

Warnings: Smut, unprotected pnv, oral(male receiving), fingering(reader receiving), if you think I missed anything please let me know otherwise enjoy :3

The sunset strip. Many things come to mind at the sound of that title. Band startups, drinking and drugging, all things surrounding rock, punk, metal and all sorts of other kinds of music. This was the scene, and you were finally here.

After high school you skipped out on the gap year and went straight to getting higher degrees. After those years of extra gruelling homework you took your break, taking a well deserved time off before heading into the workforce.

This being your year of true freedom, a kind you probably won’t get close to again, you went to the one place you’ve always wanted to be. The sunset strip.

Now, you weren’t much of a party person. When all your friends were out at someone’s house you were at home studying, reading, a few jobs on and off. The whole crowded place was not something you wanted. But the sunset strip was where you wanted to be all that time. Even though it was way out of your comfort zone.

You looked through some of the clothes in a store you found called ‘Retail Slut’. The clothes were of all kinds and you were quite happy to be digging in all of it, unique smells and all.

In the back there was a small stand of records which you thought were pretty cool. While you were going through them a tall man with ginger hair came up to the table and seemed to be pretending to look around at the albums. You caught him glancing at you a few times and he eventually spoke up.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he said, “new to town?” He had this friendly presence to him. His smile was warm and he had the cutest glasses on. He wore this cute brown coat and light blue jeans. Fall incarnate. A fallen leaf on a frosty day.

“Just visiting, I grew up watching everything happen here and I’d never been.” You explained. The man nodded in understanding. You picked up an album with a hammer in a red and black frame titled ‘Kill ‘em All’. The ginger haired fellow took it from you and put it under another stack of albums further down the table.

“I’ve listened to some of their shit, you wouldn’t like it.” He stated, glaring down at the assortment of other records.

“How would you know what I’d like?” You asked, crossing your arms around your chest. The man looked up at you. He eyed you from head to toe, biting his lip as he did so.

“There’s a band playing just around the corner at a bar I like.” He walked around the table to stand in front of you. “Care to join me?” He asked, holding a hand out for you to take. You hesitated for a moment. You’ve never done anything like this before, running off with a stranger to some bar. Right into a party? No one ever would’ve taken you for the type, least of all yourself.

But this was the strip, and you came here to be free. So you took his hand and he led you out of the thrift store.

You walked down the streets hand in hand. You kept scanning around at everything happening, all the laughing, smiling faces. Rock posters everywhere, record stores, guitar shops. Everything you’ve dreamed of.

“I’m Dave, by the way.” The man said. You’d been trying to work up the courage to ask but the words kept fizzling out before they came out of your mouth. “In case you were wondering what name to call out tonight.” You thought about it for a moment, trying to think of a scenario where you’d need to call for him when it clicked as to what he was referring to. Your cheeks heated up and your gaze fell to the ground as you entered a dark club.

Dave threw an arm over your shoulder, keeping you close in the crowded area. Being so close to him you could smell his cologne. The stench of the club nearly covered it but you managed to focus on it. It helped keep you calm in this unfamiliar scene.

The ginger walked you through the club and sat down at the bar. He ordered you both ginger ale. “Unless, the lady wants something else?” He offered. You shook your head and the bartender walked off to make your drinks. “Not a drinker?” He asked, half leaning on the counter.

“I’m not even a partier.” You replied, almost exasperated. The bartender returned a few moments later with your drinks. You thanked them and reached for your purse. Dave gently pushed your hand away and handed the worker some cash.

“Pretty girls don’t buy drinks, doll.” He told you, taking a sip of his drink.

The two of you got to talking, having a few more non-alcoholic drinks and just chatting your time away. This was much more pleasant than the stories of parties you’ve heard all your life. This was nothing compared to the scene you’d come here expecting, but it was a much appreciated one.

Dave’s hand found its way to your knee, slowly moving higher and higher. You decided on a leather skirt and fishnets to go along with your red tube-top and thrifted leather jacket. His fingers were dipping under your skirt, just enough to have your stomach fluttering.

Finally, after hours of teasing you with his touch that was barely considered innocent, Dave leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Why don’t you come with me for a minute?” He held his hand out for you to take, and you did.

The ginger led you through the crowd and to the bathrooms. He tried to pull you into the mens room but you stopped. “I-I can’t go in there.” You said, glancing around to see if anyone was looking at you. They weren’t, all of them too preoccupied with the show on before them, all wasted and having their own fun.

“Come on.” Dave groaned with a smile. “It’ll be fun, I promise.” He urged, gently pulling you into the bathroom.

He got you on the counter, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on your hips. Your lips crashing against one anothers, tongues dancing together and exploring each other's mouths. Dave was pushing your skirt up, bunching it around your hips. You could feel him hardening as he would grind against you, short and harsh rotations of his hips.

Dave’s hands began to wander. He’d run the tips of his fingers over the inside of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine and knotting your gut. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” He mumbled against your lips when his thumb finally pushed against your panties. He pushed the thin piece of fabric to the side and slid a finger through your folds. That alone had your back arching in anticipation. “Fuck me, you’re so fucking wet.” He mused, starting to kiss down your neck. Nipping and sucking the tender flesh and leaving love bites. You screwed your eyes shut and your mouth fell open in soft sounds as Dave slid a finger into you.

He curled his finger against your gummy walls, pressing against that special spot inside you. Your eyes rolled back and you gripped his shoulders. “Such a sweet thing, huh? Never felt this before, have you?” He hummed as he pumped his long, thick fingers in and out of you. He started slow, letting you get used to this new sensation before he picked up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against wet skin rang through the small, tiled room along with your whimpers.

“Oh, fuck, please! Please, fuck, I c- I can’t.” You whined, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. Dave then pulled his finger out of you, taking away any pleasure you had just been feeling. You stared at him with wide sad eyes and a pout. “Why would you do that..?” You asked, your voice shaky and weak. Dave looked at you with an apologetic, pitying look.

“Oh... Is my baby needy?” He brought his hand up to cup your cheek, gently caressing it. “All sad and pouty because she doesn’t get to cum yet?” He ran his fingers through your hair and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t worry, daddy’ll take care of you.” He pulled you off the counter, your knees buckled and you fell to your knees on the cold tile in front of him. You stared up at him with that same wide-eyed stare. “You just have to do something for me first, sweetheart.” Dave said as he unbuckled his belt.

His pants fell to the ground, leaving him in his boxers which had a prominent bulge from his cock. “Go on, doll, make daddy happy.” You were hesitant at first, gaze flickering between him and his eyes. You brought your hands up and dipped your fingers under the waistband of his boxer, gently tugging them down until they fell to his ankles with his pants.

Dave’s hard member hit you in the face after being brought out from its confines, traces of pre already sticking to your cheek. “I-I’ve never...” You trailed off, not sure whether it was because you were distracted by his dick or that you just didn’t want to finish the sentence.

Dave’s hand went to your face again, holding you by the chin to tilt your head up so you’d look him in the eye, though your gaze flickered to his lips a few times as well. “Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.” He mused, wiping the liquid from your cheek. You gave a weak nod and opened your mouth for him.

The ginger slowly guided his cock over your tongue, letting the weight lay on the muscle for a moment before he went further. His hand was still on your head, holding you in place for him. He was only about halfway in when he stopped, letting you get used to just that. “Watch your teeth now, doll, but give it a suck, would you?” He said in that same soft voice he’d been using with you all afternoon and now into the night.

You did as he told you to, your tongue traced the veins on the underside as you hollowed your cheeks for him. You pulled your head back a bit to pay more attention to his tip and he let you, for a moment. Before you knew it he was slamming his hips to meet your face, fucking deep into the back of your throat at a brutal pace. You gagged on him and the tears that had been pricking your eyes fell in streams down your red cheeks.

Your knees and throat hurt but Dave didn’t stay like this for long. He didn’t finish but he pulled himself out of your mouth and pulled you up off the floor. He pushed you up against the counter with your back facing him so you’d be looking into the mirror. The ginger stared down at your exposed ass, hands firmly planted on your hips as he spread you apart. His thumb pushed the fishnet and your panties aside so he could feel just how wet you were, all for him.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He hummed. “All pretty and mine.” He said, and with a quick tug he ripped your fishnets, then your thin underwear. He lined himself up with you and pushed in, bottoming out without giving you time to prepare yourself.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, drool slipping out of your puffy and bruised lips, tears rolling down your hot cheeks. You didn’t care, anything besides Dave’s cock stuffed deep inside you was beyond your comprehension right now. You loved the feeling of him, the way he hit every spot that had you seeing stars, the way he held you so close to his chest.

After letting you adjust to him for a moment or two he wasted no time in setting a fast rhythm, thrusting into you without a care in the world. He groped your chest and bit your neck, leaving red and purple spots in his wake as his hips slammed against yours. You weren’t processing any sounds you were making but based on the expression you saw staring back at you you could imagine they were pretty loud, all lustful moans as Dave slid in and out of you, his head pressing right up against your cervix.

The knot came back full force when Dave started circling your clit and quickly burst. You screamed out for him, creaming around him. Your juices dripped down his cock, your ass and thighs getting coated as well while the liquids made their way to the floor which was already covered in a layer of other fun times. However, Dave didn’t stop. His thrusts were relentless as he kept bucking his cock into you.

“Fuck-fuck, so pretty, so pretty just for me, so tight around daddy’s cock.” Dave praised, landing a harsh smack on your ass, then another and then a third, each one drawing a yelp from you. Dave took your hair in his hand, bunching it into a makeshift ponytail so he could pull your head back to force you to look into the mirror. “Look at that, look at my little slut, all fucked out on daddy’s dick.” Your eyes were fluttering, you felt like you were on the verge of passing out but you managed to keep your standing.

Dave began losing his rhythm and just sloppily fucking into you, doing anything to reach his own high. The coil in your gut returned, this time you got to see how that looked on the outside. Dave behind you with his long, ginger hair sticking to his face and your shoulders from sweat. You watched the way your ass shook every time he rammed into you, you saw the small bulge in your stomach. Dave saw it at the same time and smiled a wicked grin.

“Look at that, all ready to have my babies, are you?” He teased. You let out a loud, sultry whine and Dave’s eyes rolled back as your walls squeezed him. “Oh, fuck~ Do that a few more times and you just might, dollface.” You continued to watch the bulge appear and disappear only to reappear right after over and over, bringing you over the edge once more.

Your body shook and your knees buckled. You clenched around Dave bringing him to his own release. Thick, white liquid shot into you and the ginger bent you over the counter, pressing down onto you as he kept bucking up into you.

He kept going a few more seconds before pulling away. He pulled out of you and watched his cum seep out of your hole. You looked back at him, then to the floor where the liquid fell. Dave saw the pout on your face, the one you hadn’t even realised was there, and pulled you into a hug. “Don’t worry, doll, I’ll get you good and pregnant next time.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. “I can bring you back home right now, would you like that, dollface?” You smiled back up at him and nodded, your eyes closing as you melted into his warm embrace.

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Red Dress

Summary: They may have your attention, but it's his fingers inside you under the table.

Pairing: Fives x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, fingering, public sex, exhibitionism, drinking, alcohol, Fives being cocky, confession of feelings, just a little jealousy

A/N: I've never written for Fives before so please bear with me. Welcoming myself back from my break with a bang, pun intended. I am also utilizing medic!reader once more just because I can.

MASTERLIST

The first time he sees you in that dress, he knows he’s screwed.  

He has Kix to thank for everything. He had been the one to convince you to come out with them in the first place. You, the 501st’s new medic, who had quickly won the hearts of the entire legion with your gentle touches and soft reassurances. You who asked their names and remembered them. You with that infectious smile, and the soft laugh that rang out at even the lamest jokes. 

They had all mutually agreed they would start a war for you. 

Fives was no less enamored with you than his brothers. You laughed at his jokes, and got shy when he lightly teased and flirted. He had once asked you to kiss his freshly bandaged wound, entirely joking, but he’ll never forget how you raised his arm to press a soft kiss to the bandage. 

His stomach still flips thinking about it. 

He hadn’t been expecting you to join them on shore leave. They were headed to 79s as usual, waiting on a few stragglers, including Kix. He hadn’t been expecting you to be following the medic down the ramp, but as soon as he sees you, he forgets all his impatience. 

His eyes widen, jaw going slack as you slowly make your way down the ramp. The others notice, turning to see just what’s caught his attention.

The dress is a little satin number that hugs every curve and slope of your body perfectly. The thin straps and sloping neckline reveal more skin than he’s ever seen before, the hem falling halfway down your thighs. 

It’s also red. 

A deep, sinful red that Fives already knows is going to draw the gaze of everyone in the bar. His hands tighten into fists, his pants tightening just a bit as well. 

“I didn’t think you’d mind if I invited our favorite medic along.” Kix says, drawing his attention, and everyone else’s. 

“No.” Hardcase says, the vision of you in the dress having silenced even him. “Not at all.” 

Fives resists the urge to punch Hardcase as he slips an arm around your shoulders, guiding you to the transport. 

This is going to be a long night. 

***

Fives had been right in his prediction that you would gain the attention of the entire bar. He was quick to notice just how much you shied from the attention, but he knew he and his brothers were not going to share. 

They squish you into the center of the booth, silently glaring away any trooper, shiny or not, that even glances your way. You seem happily unaware of it as you sit between Jesse and Tup. They’re laying it on thick, Jesse’s arm stretched across the back of the booth behind you. 

Fives’ hand tightens around his glass as Jesse leans in, saying something quietly to you. You get that bashful look on your face again, fingers trailing through the condensation on your glass. You’ve barely finished one glass of the cheap beer the bar provided to the clones. 

Fives gets his moment when Tup excuses himself from the table for a bathroom break and Jesse is sent to the bar for the next round. He quickly shuffles into the booth next to you, so close you’re almost touching. You turn to look at him, eyes shining in the dim light above the table. 

“You alright?” He asks, leaning in a bit so you can hear him over the music. “Are they making you uncomfortable?” 

You shake your head. “No, they’re sweet, I’ve just...had my gaze on someone else for a while.” 

He tilts his head as he stares down at you. “Anyone I know?” 

“Well, he’s a clone.” You say, giving him a cute little smile. 

“Right. That narrows it down.” Fives nods. 

“He’s an ARC trooper.” You continue. 

“Narrows it down more.” Fives says, leaning his arm on the table so he can lean in closer. 

“He’s funny and smart and one of the bravest men I’ve ever met.” You stare up into his eyes, searching for something. “He has the sweetest brown eyes, and a cute little wrinkle between his brows when he frowns.” Your gaze drops to his lips. “He has a goatee, and a tattoo, and quite the unique nickname.” 

Fives smirks, slipping his arm across the back of the booth behind you. His fingers trail along the bare skin of your shoulders, just as soft as he imagined. He leans in closer, watching the goosebumps form on your skin as he leans into your ear. You smell good, the best thing he’s ever smelled. His nose presses into your hair, smelling your sweet scent as his lips brush your ear. 

“I need to hear you say it.” He whispers, fingers tracing patterns across the back of your neck and shoulders. 

You turn your head just slightly, hand dropping to his thigh. “You.” You say it just audible above the thump of the music playing. “It’s you.” 

Fives smirks, pulling back a bit as Jesse returns to the table. Despite the goosebumps on your skin, it’s warm to the touch, Fives brushing your cheek gently as he pulls his arm away. He’s pressed right up against you, his hand slipping under the table to rest against your knee. 

“Tell me to stop.” He says quietly, Jesse taking his spot next to you once more. 

You give him a look that speaks a thousand words, a look he didn’t think you were capable of. He’s glad the table hides everything as his pants suddenly get very tight. You turn your attention to Jesse as he starts speaking to you, Fives getting a refill on his glass and yours as Rex passes around the new pitcher. 

His hand slowly begins to slip higher up your leg, fingers tracing the soft skin. Your legs widen just slightly for his hand, speaking volumes as you continue to entertain Jesse’s story. 

He bites back a groan as he finds the damp fabric between your legs. It’s a bit much to call them underwear, a lacy little number he wants to slip into a pocket later. He rubs you over your panties, your hips shifting just slightly. You disguise it as you reach for your glass, taking another sip of beer. 

He watches the way your hand tightens just slightly around the glass as he pushes the fabric to the side, trailing his fingers along your pussy. He joins in on the conversation as he sinks a finger into your tight heat, your hips shifting just slightly again to give him room. 

You’re good at hiding it, moving subtly with the conversation as he and Jesse go back and forth. If Jesse looked down, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out where his hand is, but thankfully he’s just a little too drunk to be aware of his surroundings. 

You clench tightly around his finger as the rest of the table joins into the conversation, recounting a story of some mission they’d gone on months ago, before you’d joined them. He can see your skin starting to get dewy with sweat, your breath picking up just slightly. You’re soaking his hand, a second finger slipping in easily. 

He watches the column of your throat as you swallow another mouthful of beer, halfway through the glass already. Maker, he wishes he could remove his codpiece, pull you into his lap and make you sit on his cock. What he wouldn’t give to ease you under the table, have those sinful lips wrapped around him. Kriff, he’s one squeeze away from laying you out on the table and fucking you in front of his brothers and the entire bar. 

He curls his fingers inside you, your lips parting as you squeeze around him, your legs shaking under the table. You set your glass back on the table just a little too hard, gaining the attention of the others. 

“You alright, mesh’la?” Hardcase frowns at you in concern. 

You nod, swallowing thickly. “Yeah.” Your voice is breathy, a bead of sweat sliding down the side of your face. “Just starting to feel it a bit.” 

“I didn’t peg you as a lightweight.” Tup says, having returned to the table at some point. 

You shrug, playing off the way your thighs squeeze around his hand. “Never really been much of a drinker before.” 

“Well, we’re just out here corrupting you, aren’t we?” Kix smirks, his voice deep from the alcohol. 

You’re close, your thighs squeezing around his hand as you press your hips against him. “That’s one way of putting it.” You laugh breathlessly. 

Fives curls his fingers again, your face leaning in close to his ear. You let out a quiet little whimper that nearly has him cumming in his pants. Your breath fans against his skin, his hand slipping from your underwear. Oh how he’d love to taste you on his skin. 

“Fresher.” You breathe, already sliding away from him. “Two minutes.” 

He watches you slip out of the booth, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watches the others eyes follow your form until you disappear into the crowd.

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @annoyinglylegendarygoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis

[bittermuire]

Be the first who ever did - 2

more unhappily married nessian for the people!!!!!!

read the first part here :)

-

The only word to describe how she feels now is naked.

Cassian holds her hand as they walk through the onslaught of cameras. He doesn’t speak and she doesn’t speak but she feels his mind roiling, a perverse, innate movement inside her chest. He wants to talk to her, she knows that much—he wants to talk it out, let’s talk it out, Nesta, but after last night and I just wish that you could really love me, she’s said enough. He won’t be getting a word out of her.

The second they get into the restaurant she pulls away, makes for Elain’s figure in the corner. Cassian lets go of her. Cresseida snatches her attention halfway there with a fierce hug. “Hi,” Nesta says, voice still a bit hoarse, genuinely glad to see her. Thin, elegant pins sparkle in her snow-white hair. “Congratulations. You look gorgeous. Where’s Alastair?”

Cresseida grins and squeezes her hand. “I lost him fifteen minutes ago, I think Tarquin grabbed him. Oh well. I’ll have him all to myself for two weeks.”

“Ahh, the honeymoon I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“The honeymoon you’ve been hearing so much about!” she laughs, and takes a deep breath. “Truth be told, I’m so ready for this whole thing to be over. The wedding, the parties…” she shakes her head, eyes still elegant and present with appropriate mirth. “Velaris is exhausting sometimes.”

“Believe me, I know.”

Elain joins them, pressing a kiss to Nesta’s cheek and then to the bride-to-be’s. “Hi beautiful, how are you?”

Cresseida smiles. “Ready to be tipsy.”

“Allow me,” she says, and with a wink dives into the crowd, cutting a line straight through to the bar. She emerges in record time with three flutes of champagne.

Nesta gives a startled laugh and takes one. “You’re magic.”

“Cauldron-blessed.”

“I’m being summoned,” Cresseida says wryly, and gestures to her tall, handsome brother, standing on the other side of the room. Alastair and a short, dark-haired woman are with him.

Then, Mother help them, Feyre materializes out of nowhere in a silver sparkly dress that leaves scandalously little to the imagination and looks, admittedly, stunning on her. “Oh my god, I have to tell you guys something. Fucking Azriel, of all people, has a girlfriend—” She stops and frowns, staring at Tarquin, a bit flushed. “Who’s that girl? With Tarquin.”

“Oh, that’s Nuan,” Cresseida tells her. “She works in Thesan’s court.”

“They’re dating?”

Cresseida nods and takes another sip of champagne. “For the last couple months, yeah. I really like her. I think he does too.”

There was a period of time before Rhysand, after Tamlin, when Feyre’s attention was caught utterly and incandescently on Tarquin. He was younger, much more her speed. He seemed to intrigue her and kept her guessing. With an energetic mind as quick and eager as a butterfly, Feyre inexhaustibly grew bored and he was good for her. Nesta doesn’t know the extent of that relationship. She only ever met him briefly.

Then this, too, was severed almost violently by the bond with Rhysand clicking into place. Tamlin had been nobody; Tarquin become nobody too. Rhysand was everything the moment they met. Rhysand is her entire world, the love of her life, her beloved mate.

And yet, Feyre watches the girl—Nuan—with cold, exacting eyes. That ferocity she bundled deep inside herself, that intensity she conquered within herself to belong—Nesta watches it emerge, watches her little sister, ruddy and tough, almost, nearly—

“I’ll see you guys later,” says Cressieda, waving at the brink of the crowd. “Get drunk without me!”

Nesta smiles and turns away as well, entirely without the patience necessary to entertain Feyre’s company tonight. Elain follows her and links their arms together. She doesn’t feel like speaking. This is something her sister seems to understand as they go to a smaller table in the corner of the vast, loud restaurant. They position their chairs close together to face the rest of the room; to guard their backs, to observe the crowd, both, neither; Nesta’s head is pounding with a worry that isn’t her own, a sick cold spreading through her veins. Her eyes fall inevitably on Cassian. He’s standing with his beloved brothers, hands in his pockets, laughing. He’s so beautiful it pains her. He smiles like it isn’t painful.

He looks at her, then. Sees her already looking. Across the room his smile drops, his eyes soften, his brows pull together. He makes as if to come to her.

She looks down, looks away.

.

By midnight the guests have dwindled to a generous twenty. Nesta twirls her wine glass. On the abandoned dance floor, Alastair holds Cresseida with blinding love as they sway. Elain is talking animatedly with the bartender. Feyre is nowhere to be found—come to think of it, neither is Rhys. She can see half of Azriel through the back door propped open, talking on the phone, crouching on the concrete with a cigarette. It glows red.

And Cassian, silent, a palpable presence in her body, stands as he has been on the other side of the restaurant, talking with Tarquin and the girl, Nuan. He leans against the wood of the bar and gesticulates gracefully as he speaks. His mouth moves in that beautiful way; she can almost hear his voice, low, even, steady.

Maybe she’s tired. Maybe the dam broke last night and now the world is ending. But her heart burns and her eyes burn, too, tears threatening to well up and fall. She drops her head, panicked and sad, tired of being sad. She went three years without shedding so much as a tear—she can last this night.

Her chest twinges; she looks up to see Cassian walking towards her. Alarm jolts within her, joins arms with squeezing pain, derelict, real.

She went to the doctor, once, when the bond had only recently snapped. She was experiencing chest pains, heart palpitations, headaches. Her blood was hot. Her body was cold. There was something inside of her that she had to get out, somehow. She’d sit on the bathroom floor, hunched over the toilet, fingers down her throat, trying to eject the pain.

He holds his hand out to her. “Will you dance with me?”

Wordless, she goes with him.

He holds her in the classic style. This is what she learned in her mother’s sitting room. Now, gratefully, that most of the party has gone, the music can be heard. It lingers softly in the air—cello, violin, solemn like a dream already being forgotten. She’s tall, but he’s taller. With a sigh she rests her head on his shoulder. He tenses.

He softens, and pulls her closer.

“Nesta,” he murmurs. His fingers twitch on the small of her back. “Can we talk about last night?”

She huffs a laugh. “No.”

“We’ve got to talk at some point.”

“Talk with yourself. I’m done.”

His hand moves hesitantly to her upper back, where her skin is bare, fingers skimming soft and cautious. “There are things I need to tell you.”

“You’ve had three years, Cassian,” she says lowly. Like always, he startles at the sound of his name. “It’s too late for either of us to make an effort.”

His chest swells and she knows he’s about to make some clipping remark, a towel over her mouth. She braces herself for it. It doesn’t come. His hand slides down again to the small of her back, although the heat of his skin still manages to seep through the fabric.

“Tell me what you want,” is all he says.

What does she want?

Does she want anything?

She used to want love, more than love she wanted happiness, more than happiness she wanted stability. She’s been given a husband, a house, a city in which she can live at the sparkling epicenter; she’s been given money, status, sway; she’s been told, we’ve found a man to love you, we’ve filled your bank account, we’ve picked out clothes for your closet, she’s been told, in words and glances and silences and taut, fierce, ordering voices, there’s no reason for you to be sad now. Is there anything worse than what she is? The oldest sister, unfailingly terrible? A disappointment, too stubborn to give in. She used to wonder—perhaps she’d be happier if she let Feyre reign. Soften to be made again. So, out of tiredness, she took Cassian, accepted him into her body.

So she sheltered his heart. Her lungs stretched to fit his breath as well as her own. Souls, entwined, struggling for room. So he sheltered her.

Hand-in-hand they go together, to parties, to galas, to luncheons, to surprise interventions followed swiftly by tea and pastries. They have sex on regular intervals and it’s fine. He isn’t gentle but he isn’t hard. She can extricate, easily, pleasure from him. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever like it, if pleasure is something her body knows. All she feels is the heat of him on her skin and beneath it as well, his languorous passion, bitter and gratifying, in her mind, in her hands, in her soul, if such a thing exists.

And so he holds her in a dim restaurant and says, Tell me what you want. Says it as though she could be expected to answer.

She lifts her head and looks at him. His eyes flit vigilantly over her face.

“I want,” she says, “a bottle of the wine served tonight.”

To his credit he doesn’t look angry or surprised. He nods stiffly. “I’ll arrange it,” he says.

She pulls against his grasp and he lets her go.

.

Late that night they’re lying in bed. She can tell he’s awake. She’s lying on her side, facing away from him.

“Cassian,” she whispers. Her voice sounds soft even to her in the darkness.

A small pause.

“Yeah?”

“You have to understand, it’s…”

Another pause, heavy with expectation.

“You can tell me.”

She blinks. There’s nothing for it. All that anger, it’s as though it’s now been replaced by a screaming urge to be understood. She pulls the sheets closer around her.

“I used to like you. I had a crush. You were a storybook character to me, a prince from a fairytale.” She takes in a shuddering breath. “And you were—gentle, with me. You were kind and I hated everyone and I wanted you to like me back. I knew you wanted to sleep with me, but I ignored that, I think.”

“Nesta, I—”

“Then the bond happened,” she tells him. “It’s different for men. You have… urges. You walk around getting horny and overprotective. For me I thought I was dying. The only guy I ever really liked was now practically inside me. And you went on living your life.” She shakes her head, swallows. “I lost you. You might have liked me. I knew you’d never love me. I thought, I’ll grin and bear it. At least I’ll live comfortably. I won’t have to work. Well, anyway.” She closes her eyes. Her voice pitches up, the tell that she's about to cry. “There’s nothing I want anymore. I don’t know what I want.”

The sheets rustle, the mattress dips. She feels him closer to her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You were in my head,” she hisses, feeling stupid.

“You kept me out,” he says lowly. “And besides. No matter what Rhys tells you, minds are indecipherable. I could submerge myself in your head and not understand a thing. I’ve only ever felt shadows of impressions of feelings from you.”

She frowns and takes a breath. “You’re telling the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Then why does Feyre go through my head?”

There’s a brief, menacing silence.

“What did you say?”

“Periodically, Feyre goes through my head. To check if I’m hurting myself or plotting treason, is what I’ve always guessed.”

“And you agreed to this?”

She laughs dryly. “I haven’t agreed to a lot of things.”

“Do you let her in? How does she do it?”

“She’s my little sister. She’s clumsy at loving people. A family trait. I crack open a door in the corner and she very stealthily sneaks through.” Nesta smiles, despising herself. “Like a gyn appointment but worse. At least you make an appointment for those.”

Then, blessed Mother, she starts crying again, as predictable and irrepressible as an infant screaming for food, for love, for warmth. It’s quiet this time. No shaking, horrible sobs, only salt and water leaking from her eyes, making the darkness blurry.

“Nesta,” he says softly, which, of course, only makes it worse.

She rolls onto her back, pressing her palms into her eyes. “Oh, god,” she laughs. “Oh, god help me. I’m so tired. Maybe I’m still sick.”

“Then let’s sleep,” he says, hesitantly. “I’m sorry, this is a conversation for tomorrow. Want me to go to the guest room?”

She can’t find the words and covers her face with her arms. When she was little her mother didn’t like her to get her hair cut short. Shining hair swirling thick and smooth down her child’s body. She used to grab it in her hands and cover her face with it, like within her flower-smelling hair she could disappear; she would slip between the hanging laundry sheets of the world and no one would find her, not a soul.

With placid fingers he eases her arms away. She opens her eyes to see him above her, blurry and reliably beautiful. She wants to lose her memory. To start over in this bed.

Brow furrowed, he brushes her hair back from her face, painstaking and gentle. She looks at him all the while, examines his face. Such calmness. Dark eyes, darker lashes. His mouth is turned down. How many times has she kissed that mouth, felt its heat?

He bends and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, breath fanning warm over her skin.

She takes a shaky breath. “I have a cellphone,” she whispers. “I have a college degree in literature.”

“I know.”

“A mate bond is a myth, Cassian.”

His mouth tenses. “I know.”

“I’ll always hate you.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I love you. I mean it.”

She swallows. “Sleep here tonight.”

“Alright.”

She rolls back onto her side. She wonders drowsily where she went, where her anger and horror and bitterness went. Sometimes she thinks she feels it in her throat or her stomach; the reaction is split and swift; kill it, kill it, kill it; clutch it tight, Nesta, never let it go.

Sleep gathers her like a child gathers a stray bird’s feather into her basket.

-

they're so bad at communicating it makes me laugh and also cry

[breannasfluff]

Eldritch Moon - P2

There’s something wrong with the air outside Kakariko. Hyrule’s head aches with the pressure of it; tainted magic slowly unwinding in a spell too complex to fathom. They’ve settled on a hillside clumped around Zelda. In the valley below, fires of monster camps flicker.

Wild is restrained only by Zelda’s hand on his arm and Twilight’s started a low growl that doesn’t end. Four clutches his stomach again, curling over his knees with a moan. Sky also looks miserable. Warriors kneels next to them, worried. Hyrule’s already tried healing magic and found nothing to heal.

Time, Legend, and Wind cluster close together, looking spooked. The traveler edges closer; he misses Legend’s steady presence at his side. “Is something wrong?” Well, something more than the general aura surrounding them.

Legend’s glance is hunted. “Can’t you feel it? I’ve felt this before.”

“The…dark magic?”

Time shakes his head and pulls Wind tighter against his side. “Something worse.”

Hyrule is still lost, but stands next to them to watch.

Wild hisses and the sound makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He’s pulling against Zelda’s grip and the whites of his eyes show. When she doesn’t let go he snaps at the air.

“Everyone stay close to me,” she calls. “The magic is rising.”

Twilight paces and the growl is growing. Then he breaks away, loping in an ever-widening circle around the group.

Wild yowls and yanks. The sound cuts through the air and carries the warbling echo of ghosts. Hyrule rubs at his ear, trying to push the sensation away. Zelda lets go and the champion runs, only slowing past where Wolfie ranges.

Giving up on Legend, Hyrule joins Zelda. “What’s up with them?” He waves at the perimeter the two now follow.

“That’s my divinity. Like I said, it doesn’t mesh well with the Blood Moon. It gets stronger the closer we get, then fades. See?” she gestures at the moon.

It hangs, swollen an ugly red. Sparks and flicks of dark magic start filling the air. The spell is speeding up, getting ready for culmination. The sound of retching is Sky, leaning over while Warriors pats his back.

The moon rises, red and redder. The eye of a great beast pinning them in place. Magic swells.

Four screams; shrill and too high. Hyrule is halfway toward him when his body blurs and—splits. Suddenly there are four versions of Four making various noises of distress. The one in red promptly passes out, barely caught by the one in green before they hit the ground.

What is happening? Hyrule reaches out, grimacing at the slimy feel of dark magic, but whatever happened to Four doesn’t seem to be connected. The Four in purple glances up at them. “We’re fine, we’ll explain later.”

Hyrule is about to push, to check them over for healing, when the magic around them swells.

“The Blood Moon rises once again,” Zelda says.

Hyrule turns his attention back to where Twilight and Wild were as the moon reaches the zenith. The dark spell completes and the wave of magic released suffocates the land.

He can’t breathe—there’s no air, just dark magic clogging every sense. He can’t—

Wolfie’s howl makes him start and remember to suck in a breath.

Twilight transformed and now the wolf’s eyes glow with a manic red light. All teeth are on display and saliva drips as his tongue flicks in and out. There’s no trace of the soft furry friend who provides cuddles and a furry shoulder to cry on. This is a dangerous animal.

Swirls of red coalesce on the hillside. Enemies; bokoblins and moblins reform. Not a single hero moves to reach for a weapon, transfixed.

Read the rest here!

[sevikasbeloved]

BOUND AU (SEVIKA X READER)

Word count: 4.1k

Warning: Not suitable for all audiences, NSFW, EXPLICIT GAY SEX :)

It was a hot day, little breeze coming in through your penthouse apartment in Piltover, and to make matters worse the AC had broken down, leaving you basking in your own heated turmoil.

Your husband, useless as he was, didn’t make it any better. Constantly on the phone with his “business associates”, never giving you an ounce of attention.

You were what you vowed as a child never to be, a bored, lonely housewife, for a man you couldn’t even stand to touch.

You laid, sprawled out on your couch, hoping to catch a drift of wind from the open window, but when even Mother Nature failed you, you’d had enough.

You stood up in a huff, straightening out your black satin lounge dress as you headed for the door.

“Y/N, where the fuck are you going, sweetie?” Your husband whispered through gritted teeth as he covered the mic on his phone.

You scowled him, noticing he was dressed in one of his fancier pinstripe suits,

“Where are you going, William?” You shot back at him, not bothering to whisper for the sake of whoever was on the other side of the phone.

He put his finger to his lips, tapping it frantically as he hushed you,

“Just a moment, please,” he said into the phone before putting it down. He turned back to you, sighing as he rubbed the centre of his sweaty forehead, “I’ve been called in, last minute for some business. Now you.”

“I'm checking the mail.” You said calmly, huffing a breath of calm beforehand.

He narrowed his eyes at you, not entirely convinced, but when his phone went off again, he decided he hadn’t time to waste on you.

“Okay fine, I don’t know when I’ll be home, so,” he paused trying to think up what a husband would say to his wife.

“I’ll be fine.” You smiled falsely, holding the door open for him. He hurried out, slipping on his shoes as he walked halfway down the corridor.

You watched him from behind, rolling your eyes at the state of him. You put on a pair of comfy slippers as you joined him in the elevator.

Neither of you exchanged a word or even a glance, both of you were very aware that you felt nothing towards each other and you were both okay with that, or at least had made peace with it after all this time.

The elevator reached the lobby floor, doors opening ceremoniously to a busier than usual entrance hall. Lobby boys were dressed like ones right out of the movies, pulling along carts full of suitcases and in some rare instances, children.

The two of you parted ways without even a goodbye and you headed to the wall of mailboxes, eyes scanning the lot to waste a few more seconds of your day even though you knew exactly where to look.

You pulled out two letters, all addressed to your husband, of course, ripping open the first one and reading it through.

Dear William,

I am sorry to hear about the death, I’ll send a flower or two for the mrs. Send her my regards.

M.

You folded it up, putting it back into its little package. There was no death nor would there be any flowers. It was all code because your husband was a shady man, involved in business you’d never wish on your worst enemy, however, it got you living here, with the big leagues so you couldn’t complain.

You turned to walk back to the elevator, less than satisfied with your adventure to the mailbox when you bumped into a tall stranger.

You almost fell onto your ass when said tall stranger caught you by the small of your back, helping you to your feet,

“Shit my bad, miss.” She said, her voice rich and smoky.

You straightened yourself out, looking up to her for the first time and my god what a sight she was to behold. Her deep-set eyes were an almost miraculous shade of grey like stormy clouds were brewing inwards. She was decorated with scars all over her body but she wore them like trophies. Her arms were laced with muscle, the dirtied tank top she wore only added to her ruggedness.

She caught you gawking at her, her lips curling into a smug smirk, she tilted her head trying to snap you out of your trance,

“You okay, lady?” She almost chuckled, her toothy grin having a chain reaction on you as you smiled with embarrassment.

“Sorry, yeah I’m fine,” you giggled, placing a hand on your cheek as you felt them glow red hot, “I’ve never seen you here before, did you just move in or?” You said attempting to diverge the conversation away from you.

“Nah,” she scrunched her nose as she shook her head, “I’m just a handyman.”

“No one’s just anything.” You replied. She scoffed amused by you,

“I like that.” She simply said. Her eyes stared into yours, the cocky smile still remaining on her lips. You felt you couldn’t look away from her or you’d miss something, but what that something was you weren’t sure of.

“Well,” she spoke after a moment, “I gotta head up or I’ll get fired.”

You looked over to the elevator, then back at her, “I’ll head up with you then, since we’re both going that way.”

She looked towards the elevator, the same as you, like she’d caught onto your little trick, but she agreed nevertheless, gesturing you to walk ahead of her.

As you both stepped into the elevator, you realised how cramped this space felt in addition to the sudden tension added, something you never felt with William.

“What floor number are you?” She asked, hands hovering over the buttons,

“Uh, twelve.” You watched her fingers as she pressed the twelfth button using her middle and ring finger, your eyes quickly flashing back to the little screen that showed the floor number as you felt your heart skip a beat noticing how she didn’t press any other number.

You stood in silence with her as the numbers increased singularly every 5 seconds, the silence feeling newfound and dangerous, unlike the ones you held with William in this same lift.

Without moving your head, your eyes looked over at her physique, the way her veins were so prominent on her hands, and every time she’d take a breath in her chest would rise and fall in a way that was almost musical.

The door opened on the twelfth floor.

You stepped out before her, walking straight ahead to your apartment at the end of the corridor.

You twisted the doorknob, your body, suddenly with a mind of its own, stopping itself from entering.

Without thinking you turned around to face her as she came to the door right beside yours.

“I never got your name.” You said.

“Sevika.”

“It was nice to bump into you, Sevika.”

She nodded, “likewise,” she left an expectant pause, to which you filled with your name.

“Likewise, y/n.” She repeated with the addition of your name. The way she spoke, it was like wine on a Sunday evening, the perfect mix of warm and sultrous.

You bit the inside of your bottom lip, as you pushed the door to your apartment open, lingering just a moment longer as she walked into your neighbours.

Once she shut the door you allowed yourself in fully, leaning on the door as you closed it behind you, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“What the fuck?” You mouthed, as you pushed yourself off the door.

You threw the letters onto the side table by the door, still in a weird haze. You stood for a moment, taking a few short and sharp breaths trying to centre yourself, you mind running rampant with all kinds of thoughts.

She’s so hot.

Why am I married?

I want to fuck her.

Do I even like men?

I’m going to do this.

“What am I doing?” You whispered to yourself as one of your thoughts came aloud as you headed right back for your door.

You opened it without even a moment's hesitation as you knocked on your neighbours door. A few seconds go by with no reply, which made you second guess almost instantly, you looked down the empty corridor, realising how ridiculous you must look in a satin lounge dress, asking after a handywoman you just met not even five minutes ago.

The door opened before you could even make that final conclusion to reverse your impulsive decision. Sevika opened the door, cigarette between her teeth as she leaned her arm against the door’s framing, her stature completely relaxed as if she was expecting you.

“Hi again.” You chuckled nervously as you punched yourself internally.

“Hey.” She said, her eyes shamelessly raking your body, and you let her, blushing at it in fact.

“I was wondering whether you could take a look at my AC? It’s broken, obviously.” You sputtered out.

She chuckled, a plume of smoke omitting from between her lips.

“Yeah I’ll check it out, princess.” She took a long inhale on her cigarette before putting it out on your neighbour's door knocker, throwing the remnants into the bin beside her.

You watched her walk past you, your mind short circuiting from the pet name she’d adopted for you all of a sudden.

You walked behind her as she walked into your apartment with a large and confident gait, a sharp and impressed whistle as she scanned the penthouse.

“This all yours, princess?” She called out from the middle of the apartment. You closed the door behind you, deliberating whether to disclose the husband or not.

“No.” You said, not giving her anymore than that.

She looked at you from over her shoulder, clearly getting the hint of what you weren’t saying. She nodded, walking over to the ac on the south wall.

She opened it with ease, her height making everything seemingly easier, the image of your husband barely being able to reach it earlier coming into your head.

“Would you like a drink?” You asked, walking over to your fridge.

“You got beer?” She yelled from the other room, her voice muffled like a wrench was between her teeth.

You took out two beers from the fridge, taking them over to where she was standing. You watched her go to work on your AC, her hair tied back into a messy ponytail as she moved some wires about.

She closed the small door on the AC, screwing the loose nail back into it, turning to you with a tight lipped smile as she took the beer from your hand. She cracked the lid open with her teeth, shoving the lid into her pocket, clearly on instinct, as she took a glug of beer.

You watched her throat bob up and down as she drank the liquid, she looked at you as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand, hiding a smirk behind it.

You, in a bout of confidence, stepped towards her, handing her your beer bottle to open. She took it, her eyes on you the whole time, as if she was trying to figure you out.

You smiled, watching her as she cracked open your beer, handing you the lid. You took a sip, shoving the lid into her other pocket, tugging her ever so slightly forward as you did. The rim of her glass ghosted her bottom lip as she looked at you with amazement.

“What?” You said, smiling innocently behind your beer.

“Nothing.” She said, giving you the same clueless energy you gave her.

“You seem uncomfortable, do I make you nervous, Sevika?” You asked.

“No.” She was stern about her answer, quick too.

“Curious, maybe?” You poked further.

“Curious, maybe.” She repeated, almost mocking but without the sense of cruelty.

You moved closer to her, leaving almost no space for the drinks in both your hands.

“What makes you curious?” You whispered. She put the drink down on the table behind her, taking your chin between her thumb and the crook of her index finger. She directed your head upwards, aligning your lips with hers.

“Your eyes, they look at me like they want something.” She hummed, her own pools darting between yours.

“What could you give them?”

“Depends on what you want, princess?” Her other hand found your waist, thumb grazing against your naval.

The sense of touch to your body made your throat catch wind as she pressed against you with the tip of her knee.

“I want you to kiss me.” You whispered, the two of you dangerously close.

“Yeah?” She teased. Her knee slowly splitting your thighs apart from each other. She pressed her lips into yours, her warm lips sliding elegantly along yours, your heartrate picking up as the speed of your kissing does too, becoming more passionate the deeper it gets.

She bites your bottom lips, making you wince at the mixture of pain and pleasure, your brain struggling to comprehend it all.

You slowly moved with her to the sofa in your front room, your calves hitting the bottom of the couch causing you to fall back into it, breaking the kiss between the two of you.

Panting, you watched Sevika stand over you, her lips glistening with your spit. Her knee came between your thighs, spreading them as she placed her hands on either side of your head.

“What are you doing to me, girl?” She mumbled, her forehead pressing against yours. You chuckled, placing your hands on her cheek as you went in for another sly kiss, she followed suit, the kiss being much softer as you fell to your side taking her with you until she’s directly above you.

Her knee stayed in between you, now brushing up against your clothed core causing you to moan into her, which only egged her in to press further.

Your back arched off the couch as you turned your head from her, unable to stifle the moan that left your lips.

“You like that, princess?” She hummed, all intentions to keep going as she began trailing your body with kisses, picking particular spots on your body to take between her teeth, causing you to gasp at the sensation. You closed your eyes, focusing on every digit on her finger as they explored your body.

Her huge hands wrapped your waist as she continued to bruise your skin with her teeth, fingers intertwining themselves into the satin dress you wore like rags as she hovered over you.

She slowly started pulling the soft fabric up, letting it bunch into a knot in her hands. Her lips slowed to a drag across your warm skin as she lowered her head towards your arousal. She pushed your dress up your body, leaving it to bunch around your waist as her hands began rubbing the length of your thighs, her fingers teasing the lace border of your underwear.

You opened your eyes as much as you could bare, your mind clouded with pleasure. Her steely grey eyes gazed towards you, its pupils dilated with hunger as she placed a licentious kiss to your clothed clit. You bit your lip on instinct at the view - a sexy older woman lusting over everything about you.

Her hands encased your thighs as she pulled them over her shoulders, moving her lips ever closer to your core. You watched her, bleary-eyed, as she slowly worked her way to where you wanted her so badly, kissing every part of your thigh her lips could reach without extra excursions.

“Wait,” You said, and when Sevika looked up with a worried expression on her face, you quickly scrambled together your thoughts to ease that, as hot as she looked, “I’m married.”

You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for rejection in the most humiliating form possible.

“Princess.” She spoke, causing your eyes to flutter open again, “The first thing I saw when I walked in here was a picture on the wall of you and your husband on your wedding day.”

You let out a shallow breath, still feeling the humiliation without the need for rejection.

“You don’t care that I'm married?” You hesitated to ask but did so anyway. You watched as her face became lined with a sliver of annoyance when you asked, like she’d been through this many times with many women before you.

“Not my marriage, sweetheart.” She said, but as if she heard your thoughts she continued, “And from the looks of it, you don’t care too much about it either.”

You didn’t say anything in response, although your face was very telling. You bit your bottom lips, trying to seem as morally guilty as possible, but in truth (and she knew this too) you couldn’t care less.

Your avoidant eyes finally found hers again and you could swear you felt your eyes physically contort into a more alluring gaze. Her face once mixed with concern and annoyance immediately caught onto your ever returning wanting for her, cocking up a smirk at you before she resumed.

She licked the side of your thigh, finishing the length off with a racy bite on the skin that laid closest to your pussy. You hummed, welcoming the return of that delightful mix of pain and pleasure, something she’d clearly had experience in doing well.

Her fingers rubbed against your clothed core, eliciting a smug smirk from her as she planted more kisses to your thighs,

“You’re so fucking wet already, huh?” She mumbled in between kisses, “I want to hear you okay, baby?”

You nodded, your impulses unable to free your bottom lip from between your teeth. Her fingers stopped as she stared at you expectantly. You heavy breaths hitching as you experienced loss of sensation where you needed it most,

“Okay,” you whispered, watching her head lower towards your core.

“Good girl.” She husked, the vibrations of her deep voice against you making your fingers curl into the leather sofa.

She pulled your lacy underwear to the side, blowing warm air against your clit. You shuddered, back arching slightly off the couch as you edged yourself close to her mouth. Her organic hand immediately went to hold your waist down against the warm leather.

She made a disapproving grunt, lips curled into a wicked smirk as she watched you attempt to shift your hips upwards without her noticing.

“Sev,” you breathed, “please.”

“What was that, baby?” She said, the hand on your waist slowly edging towards your exposed clit. Your eyes followed it with heated anticipation, your bottom lip reddening as you bit down on it.

Her hands suddenly stopped causing your eyes to fly back up to hers. You let out a whimper, nails scratching the surface of the couch.

Sevikas eyebrow raised at the noise you made, her interest and desire for you peaking further. Her hand resumed, her thumb grazing the hood of your clit.

You sucked in a breath, your eyes darting between her face and hands. Her thumb tapped lightly against your clit, sending small pulses through your body as you trembled against her touch.

The digit of her thumb graced against your clit in soft and pleasing motions, sending shockwaves through you. You closed your eyes, letting your mind go as you fell victim to her.

Your eyes closed left you relying on every other sense - the smell of her musk mixing in with the smell of the burning wax from a candle you’d left burning since the day began, the sound of her hums in coordination with your whimpers as she rubbed circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves felt like ecstasy as your core began throbbing for her touch.

Like clockwork, her fingers moved against your inner thighs, tips teasing your entrance causing the heel of your foot against her back to dig into her. You opened your eyes, an exciting feeling of fear as you incentivised her toward your pulsating hole.

She looked up at you with her dark and stormy eyes, the grey colour almost completely blacked out as she looked at you with a primal glare, enticed by your eagerness.

She moved her thumb off your clit, your core tensing at the loss of sensation. Your mouth fell open as if you were to speak but all that came was a small groan,

“How bad do you want me?” She asked, moving your legs from over her shoulders, onto the warm leather sofa.

You watched her in silence as she moved her body over you, her hair falling messily out of its ponytail, singular stands sticking to her forehead. She stopped when her face was directly above yours, then she dipped her head to your jaw, dragging her nose across it as she buried it in the hair just above your ear,

“Answer me.” She pressed, a sudden change in her demeanour, like it was a game, and she wanted you to break first, and you’d be damned if you didn’t.

“So bad,” you whispered, half of your voice still trapped in the lump in your throat. She hummed,

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes, please, I need you.” You begged to her approval, your hand mindlessly wandering the length of her bicep.

Without warning she plunged two fingers into your core, causing your head to knock back onto the arm rest behind you, the lump in your throat clearing as a strained moan left your gaping mouth.

“Show me.” She whispered, keeping her head by your side as she slowly pulled her fingers out before sliding them back in, filling you up to her knuckle.

“Ah, fuck, Sevika!” You cried, your wandering hand now gripping onto her shoulder as you held her like an anchor, her the pure strength of her fingers rocking your nude body against the leather beneath you.

“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear, baby.” She chuckled, the smokiness in her voice causing your hole to clench around her fingers,

“Fuck,” she whispered, genuine surprise in her voice.

Her fingers lodged in you began to curl against your walls, your hips beginning to rock against her hand, the two of you moving in unison, her face moving again to face you as she crashed her lips into yours.

She kissed you sloppily, like she was losing all composure over just touching you. You moaned into her mouth as her fingers released from you, allowing her to slide in and out, everytime she filled you out, her fingers curled into you, almost sending you cross eyed.

Your eyes moved to look between the two of you, watching her hand moving in and out of you effortlessly, the sound of your sopping cunt filling the deathly quiet room.

The pace of her fingers and the rocking of your hips, pushed your body every closer to its climax, the hand that gripped her shoulder moved over to her face, fingers almost numbed as you held her warm cheek, looking at her through dazed and lazy eyes,

“Fuck, you’re-“ you panted,

“Good?” She teased through bated breaths, the gap in her tooth prominent as she smiled.

“Beautiful.” You whispered, eyes fluttering shut, only for a moment catching the look on her face, the look of confusion and part tenderness.

Your eyes rolled back, closing shut as your hand snaked her neck, pulling her close to you as you came, her body flush against yours as your breathing halted, and for a moment everything froze, her body on top of yours feeling like the only right thing in the world.

Then your eyes opened and moans erupted from your mouth as your body twitched against hers. She held you, her fingers drawing to a still inside you as your moans became deep breaths, then smaller ones until they were only loud enough so she could hear them.

She pulled back, pulling her fingers out too, wiping them against her chest as she leaned in to kiss you again, this time gentler, softer and kinder. She looked at you, not saying a word, although her eyes said a thousand more.

Your hand fell again to her face, caressing the blush that’s formed against it, a coy smile on your lips.

“You did good, baby.” She said, turning her mouth to kiss the palm of your hand, once then twice before she sat up by your bottom half, rubbing your thighs as you laid there, exhausted.

“So did you.” You whispered, your body fighting sleep, “I haven’t come like that since,” you paused to think, “never.”

She chuckled, dropping her head like she was all bashful over your comment, shocking to you considering her easy conversation while she was inside you.

“How long are you working next door?” You asked.

“Why, you considering part two?” She baited, a sly smile on her face revealing she wouldn’t say no.

“Hmm, maybe.” You simply replied.

[moonlight-if-knight]

Ah, yes and to add the cherry on top of this wonderful scenario, Silvia and L decided to come visit but as they approach the house, they witness Alex, MC and Jere either being caught or still running away from not just Max but also Derek. Now, idk if any of those two would join this fun situation or just watch in amusement, all I know is Enrique is problematic watching them from on of the windows with a large smile on his face. 😂

Hahaha, brilliant! The Delacroix siblings casually visit during the mayhem! ✨✨

Now, in the first part, it was said they were caught in the end...

But where’s the fun in that? :)

Part One ~ Part Two

---

“They know we’re here!” Jere says, looking horrified at the door of his room. “Max will be here any time. We’ll never outrun him!”

“Yes, since you decided to yell at them when they were distracted!” You throw your hands up in the air.

“I only wanted them to know we wouldn’t burn down the house. And I wasn’t the only one! Alex told them where we’re planning to go!”

“Just wanted to rile up Derek, but damn, I wanted to see his face when he heard that,” Alex says with a satisfied grin. “Besides, we’re stuck here anyway. The only reason we got this far is because Max let us. He enjoys the chase. But he won’t let us go any further.”

“I only wanted to see fireworks change forms in the sky!” Jere laments.

“There, there,” Alex pats Jere on the shoulder. “They just don’t believe in you like we do. That’s why I’ll take one for the team. You two jump through the balcony and go to the front garden. I’ll stay here to distract Max.”

“How in the world will you distract Max long enough for us to set the fireworks?” You ask him with an eyebrow raised.

Alex winks at you. “I have my ways. But Derek’s your problem. There’s no way he’ll listen to me.” You hear steps from the hallway. “Go! Tell me what they looked like when this is over!”

You and Jere run to the balcony and jump down as the door flies open. Then, keep running towards the front yard.

“Here!” You give Jere the fireworks.

He takes them and kneels on the ground. He takes each firework and puts the powder from the pouch in them. “Let’s hope Krizia’s right and this works!”

“Just remember not too much, or they’ll explode!”

“I know!” he shouts nervously.

“Don’t dare fire that up!” Derek shouts from the front door.

“It’s Derek!”

“Keep going, I’ll talk to him!” You walk towards Derek, meeting him halfway.

Just then, Siliva and Lorian/Locke enter through the front gate.

“I always love how you can smell the flowers from far away the house! Don’t you, Lory/Locky?” Siliva asks, walking beside her sibling.

They nod. “It is impressive the work Derek puts into them.”

“Yeah! Like-” She stops talking as they take in the scene before them.

From the side of the house, Alex jumps out from Jere’s balcony, laughing. He looks up when he’s on the ground. “Not in the mood, babe?”

“Shut the hell up!” Max shouts angrily from the balcony and throws a shoe at Alex, which he easily dodges, still laughing.

You try to keep Derek from getting close to Jere, but he stubbornly doesn’t yield.

And Jere’s still on the ground, rushing the powder in the rest of the fireworks.

Siliva and L look quietly at the scene before she lets out a laugh. “Looks like they’re having fun!”

“I do not even know what is happening, but it looks like Derek is angry,” L deadpans.

“So that means I must help MC!” Siliva says and runs straight towards Derek. She throws her arms around him, hugging (or seizing) him tightly. “My favorite cousin! How I’ve missed you!”

“Siliva! Now’s not the time! Let me go!” Derek tries to shake her off but to no avail.

L looks around with an inexpressive face and looks upon their uncle leaning on the front door’s threshold with a smile on his face. They walk calmly towards him and stand beside him.

“Good night, uncle,” they greet him politely.

“It’s good to see you, L,” Enrique greets them.

“Have they been playing around for long?”

“Yes, they have been at it for a while.”

L nods. “It is good that they get along. Even if they play and fight at the same time.”

Enrique laughs. “We have to spend eternity in some way, don’t we?”

---

This turned out longer than expected. Again 😂

I don’t regret it ❤️✨

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 6 - Dutch x Reader

This chapter is pretty heavy, with an exploration into grief and mental disorders. I’ve provided more of my thought process at the end as I don’t want to spoil the plot up here, but it’s there if you want to take a look beforehand!

As always - here's the ao3 link.

Summary: Dutch takes you on a minibreak and finally opens up about himself and his past.

Word count: 5,532

Content warnings: smut, discussions around mental health

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Since his visit at the start of term, Dutch had made a point of calling you to catch up at least once a week. He wasn’t the texting type and preferred to hear about your days rather than read about them, which was rather sweet, except you had to keep your voice down if he called you while you were in your flat – just in case.  

After repeatedly trying to arrange a weekend to see you with no success, one day he sent you a message to keep three of the days a couple of weeks before Christmas free when he knew you’d be finished with lectures for the term.  

Fast-forward to then, he’d picked you up and driven the two of you to a small cottage he’d rented in the countryside a few hours away for the two of you to have some alone time together.  

The place was beautiful, quaint, and with enough local amenities to keep you busy. Although, you didn’t have much time to explore, since as soon as you’d entered and dropped your bags, Dutch attached his lips to yours and had you bent over the kitchen counter for an apt reuniting. I’ve missed you he’d said into your hair once finished, and opened up the opportunity for you to try the shower together.  

“I was thinking,” he said, sipping at his coffee as he caught up with the evening news on the old boxy television once you were both squeaky clean, “we stay in for food tonight, rest up, and go out to eat tomorrow?”  

“Sounds good,” you agreed, lifting the blanket from the back of the sofa and joining Dutch on it, draping it over the two of you and sighing contently once you were nestled into his side, the crackling fire swiftly warming the room. It was scary how easy it was to just be like this with him, but you couldn't bring yourself to question it. “Where’s there to eat around here?”  

“Uh,” Dutch pulled out his phone and scrolled around on maps, “there’s not much. A café and a pub, both relatively close to here.”  

“Either will do,” you yawned, resting your head on his shoulder. “I still can’t believe you arranged this.”  

“Well, I knew you couldn’t weasel your way out of it if we had something booked.”  

“I don’t weasel my way out of anything -”  

“No?” Dutch interrupted, raising his brows at you, “assignments popping up out of nowhere, extra shifts at work, a gig you forgot you had tickets for, none of those ring a bell?”  

You grumbled into the fabric of his shirt. “All valid excuses.”  

“Whatever you say, miss,” he chuckled light-heartedly. “I believe, anyway, this is a cause for celebration,” he stood, making his way into the kitchen and returning with two glasses and a bottle of fancy champagne.  

“Where the hell did you hide that? And what are we celebrating?”  

“I believe,” he opened the champagne on the small coffee table in front of you and poured out a glass. “You’re now halfway through your time at university, correct?”  

“Sort of,” you took the glass from him, “technically, it’s not halfway until after these exams. Close enough, though.”  

“And,” he sat beside you, his own glass in hand, “it’s been a year since you and I met.”  

“It has?”  

“There or thereabouts. You came over just before Christmas.”  

“Oh yeah,” you tilted your head, recalling the first time you saw Dutch casually lying on his sofa. “So it has.”  

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” Dutch scoffed, swilling the champagne around his glass.  

“Aw,” you said patronisingly, “I didn’t realise you’d been counting. Do you have a journal filled with my initials and hearts, too?”  

Dutch narrowed his gaze, a stern breath out of his nose. “I’m trying to be romantic.”  

You smirked, clinking your glass against his and have a swig. “To romance.”  

With a scoff, Dutch leaned over to place his glass on the table. “Last time I do anything nice for you -”  

“What are you doing?” you gasped, picking his glass up and shunting it into his hand.  

“What?”  

“Drink it! It’s seven years of bad sex if you toast without having a drink afterwards.”  

“You know that from experience?”  

“Just drink it,” you tapped the bottom of the glass reprimandingly, and he did as you asked.  

“I didn’t have you down as the superstitious type,” he put his arm around you, amusement lighting up his face.  

You leaned into him all the same. “I’m not, exactly. But I don’t want to take the risk. I’m quite a fan of our sex.”  

“As am I,” he agreed, taking another sip. “Are you glad your first semester is over?”  

“I will be when the exams finish. But by that point, it’ll be second semester and I’ll have to do it all over again,” you responded begrudgingly.  

“How’s John getting along? He doesn’t tell me much.”  

“He’s fine,” you shrugged, not wanting to be the middleman between the two.  

Dutch let out a sigh and stretched his back. “I should’ve known you’d be no help on that front.”  

“I am not getting involved,” you laughed. “If you want to know how he’s doing, ask him yourself. Plus, I’d rather not be reminded that he’s your son.”  

“Can’t run from the truth, darlin’,” he mused, and the two of you took another sip.  

“I’m not running. I’m just ignoring it.”  

“How’s that different?”  

“Because I said so,” you shrugged, shifting slightly to look around the room. “I like it here.”  

Dutch glanced around too. “We’ll do it again sometime.”  

The statement hinted at a future, the thought of which had been ruminating around your head as of late. You pushed it back, not wanting to divulge away from the relaxed atmosphere in the room. Instead, you snuggled up to Dutch and sat for a while until your conversation was filled with more yawns than words, at which point you turned in for the night.  

-

Waking up laid on Dutch’s chest wasn’t something you were used to yet, but it was something you enjoyed greatly. So much so, that once you’d awoken the next morning, you remained in your position and didn’t check if he was awake, wanting to savour the comfort and warmth he provided.  

That was, until he shifted, and you heard him pull something from the draw, then a lid coming off. You peeked upwards, finding Dutch taking a swig of water and screwing the lid back on a bottle of pills that he hastily put back in the drawer.  

“What are those?” you asked, leaning up on your elbow to look over at his nightstand.   

Dutch tensed, slowly shifting his eyes to meet yours before swallowing down the tablet. He looked like he’d been caught in a questionable act, the expression on his face one you’d never seen there before.  

Shame.  

You put a hand on his arm, a minor attempt at soothing whatever worry had been prodded awake in his mind. “What is it?”  

“I - they’re -” he began, looking back at his glass of water and sighing deeply. “I suppose you had to find out sooner or later.”  

“Find what out?” you sat up, facing him as concern began brewing in your mind. “Dutch, are you okay?”  

“Yes, yeah, I’m fine. They’re just,” he leaned back against the headboard, decompressing as his panic turned into acceptance. “They’re mood stabilisers.”  

“Oh,” you responded, glad to hear that none of the worst-case scenarios in your head were true. You wanted to know more, but this was clearly a sensitive topic for him. “Do you want to tell me about it?”  

He looked at you with mild surprise, blinking a few times to glance down at his hands which he was wringing together. You placed your palm over them. “I don’t necessarily want to, but it’s about time you knew about it.”  

You nodded, allowing him to go at his own pace, your heart wrenching at how raw and exposed he was for the first time since you’d met him.  This certainly wasn’t what you’d expected from this weekend.  

“Not now. How about we go on a walk after breakfast? It’s a lovely part of the country,” he gestured out the window, hopeful.  

“I’d like that.”  

The two of you spoiled yourself with breakfast at a local café, idle chatter and comfortable silences accompanying your meal. Part of you wished you could go for a nap but walking it off was the more sensible option. Besides, you didn’t think letting Dutch hold that extra weight on his shoulders for any longer than necessary was a good idea.  

You walked from the local village to a nearby trail, with open fields and sky that stretched out for miles. You’d gotten lucky with the weather, despite not being hot, the sun was out and made for a nice addition to the scenery. After only a few steps, Dutch casually took your hand in his and the two of you began the walk.   

“I’ve been on them for years,” Dutch’s opening sentence was soft, as though he’d been deep in thought about how to begin the conversation.  

“Have they helped?” The question felt like a silly one, you doubted he’d take them if they didn’t, but you weren’t sure what to ask at this moment, or whether you were to ask anything at all.  

“Yeah. A lot.” He sounded almost glum.  

“That’s good.”  

“Was Arthur who got me on them in the first place.”  

You hummed in acknowledgement, feeling for a boundary you didn’t want to cross. “What are you like without them? If you don’t mind me asking.”  

“No, it’s fine.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him glance at you and felt reassured. “Uh, I think Arthur’s word for it was ‘unreasonable’. Though I think he was being nice, to placate me.”  

“On account of your unreasonableness.”  

“Exactly.”  

The silence extended, and you enjoyed the singsong of birds nearby while you waited for him to find his next words.  

“Arthur... he’s put up with a lot. A lot more than the other two. I half wonder how he still tolerates me.”  

“By put up with, do you mean with regards to you specifically?” you pried gently, hoping you weren’t putting words in his mouth.  

“Unfortunately. After Ann -” Dutch stopped, giving you a sharp look at the realisation this was the first time he’d mentioned his late wife.  

“You can talk about Annabelle,” you reassured him, “I’d like to hear about her.”  

He nodded, relieved. “After she - Annabelle, passed away, I guess I sort of changed. Well, John doesn’t agree with that, but -”  

“Agree with what?” you asked, unsure what he was referring to.  

Dutch sighed, visibly uncomfortable but with a lingering desire to continue his explanation. “John reckons I was always this way. Just that the circumstance brought it out,” he looked to the ground at the stones shifting beneath his steps, and you ran your thumb over his hand that was still clasped around yours. “Sorry, I’m not making much sense.”  

Hearing him speak without an air of self-assurance was almost jarring, as though no matter how hard he tried to plan out the words there just wasn't a good way to say them. “It’s okay. Why don’t you go back to Annabelle’s passing?”  

“Right, good idea.” Dutch paused for an extended moment, ordering his thoughts. “I was so angry. That’s what I remember the most – just pure rage. She was a good person, and then she was gone.”   

You chewed on your lip, wondering if it was your place to ask but decided it might help you understand Dutch that little bit more. “How did it happen?”  

“She got sick.” That was all Dutch said, and that was all you needed to know. “We had a home, a good life, a family. Then it was just me, with these kids and I didn’t know the first thing about how to bring them up. Arthur was a teenager, poor Tilly just a toddler.”  

“But you’d brought them up until that point?”  

Dutch nodded diplomatically. “I suppose. Annabelle did all the tough bits, though, as most mothers do. But it wasn’t just that. The worst part was that I -” he trailed off, looking across the horizon and unable to hide the pain on his face. “I didn’t want to.”  

Your brows knitted together. “Bring them up?”  

“I just remember them wanting to... go away. I was heartbroken, I didn’t want to deal with their broken hearts too. It sounds awful, doesn’t it?” he looked at you, eyes sad and riddled with guilt.  

“Grief’s a funny thing.”  

A short, humourless laugh left Dutch and he turned his attention back to the scenery ahead. “Arthur,” his voice cracked on the name, “perceptive as he is, ended up doing a large part of that job for me. Mainly because I let him.” The pair of you took a few more steps, allowing the silence to dilute the tense air building around Dutch. “I resented him for it.”  

“Why?” you asked gently.  

“The kid was a better man than me. He’d lost his mother, and he had it in him to support his siblings. I just felt weak, almost like they’d -” he swallowed, his jaw ticking, “like they’d be better off if I wasn’t there.”  

“Oh, Dutch -”  

“Don’t,” he warned, not meeting your gaze, “it’s not sympathy I deserve.”  

While you didn't completely agree with that statement, you opted for doing as he asked and kept quiet on that front.  

“After a while, I got paranoid. I thought Arthur was trying to replace me, and I started to accuse him of it in not-so-many words. One night, Arthur did something he’d never done before.”  

“What?”  

“He shouted at me. Yelled at me. At that moment it was like seeing my own rage reflected, as he whittled off everything he hated about me. I was speechless. And at that moment, I hated him too.” Dutch’s face hardened with the memory, and he consciously shook it away. “The next day, Hosea – you remember him? I’m not sure you’ve met.”  

“I remember,” you nodded. Dutch’s best friend, the one he worked with. You’d never spoken with him, but you were sure you’d seen him at the barbeque back in summer.  

“Well, he came around. Sat me down with Arthur and they had an... intervention of sorts. He was more of a father to Arthur than I was at that time, and I hadn’t even noticed just how much he’d been there, taking the kids out and such. But I trust Hosea, always have.” For the first time in this conversation, Dutch’s eyes misted up, but he blinked it away. “He told me I needed to get help, and I did. I couldn’t have done it without him and Arthur.”  

You walked some more, Dutch’s hand comfortably intertwined with yours. “Shit,” you huffed, wishing you had better words to articulate your thoughts. “I - that’s a lot. I’m sorry.”  

“Why are you sorry?” he asked.  

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. It mustn’t have been easy, accepting you need help and then seeing it through to this point.”  

He looked at you, still a little puzzled.  

“You’ve come a long way,” you shrugged, and Dutch’s face softened as though viewing his progress as an achievement wasn’t something he often did. That didn't surprise you, for as hard as could be on his kids he was noticeably harder on himself. “I didn’t know Annabelle, but I like to think she’d be proud of you for it.”  

Dutch nodded, again looking at the countryside ahead and when his lip quivered you stopped walking, turning towards him and he mirrored your actions. You brought a hand up to the side of his face, running a thumb under his eye to catch one of his less-stubborn tears. “You’re very understanding,” his voice was weak as it carried the words, an odd thing to hear from such a proud, strong man.   

There wasn’t much you could say, really. John had never mentioned anything about this, and your initial thoughts about their perfect family life were far from the truth. Their money wasn’t enough to save Annabelle, work through their grief, or avoid the inevitable trauma that followed. The life they had was built from the ground up on a rocky foundation, and it told you a lot about Dutch to know what he’d worked through to get to this point. You wrapped your arms around his waist and embraced him, the two of you remaining like that for a short time before continuing the walk, a much lighter atmosphere surrounding you for the rest of its duration.  

-

After the walk, the two of you were hungry enough to go out for dinner earlier than planned, and promptly returned to the cottage once fed.  

“What did you do with the rest of that champagne?” you called into the kitchen, fiddling with the cardigan you’d draped over your shoulders.  

“I stuck it in the fridge with a spoon in the opening. Should be okay – do you want some more?” Dutch called back.  

“Well,” you shifted on the arm of the sofa you were perched on, “I was thinking we could give that hot tub a whirl.”  

A comical pause of silence preluded Dutch appearing in the doorway, eyebrows raising when he was met with you in your bikini. A half-smile inched onto his face, and he licked his lips absentmindedly. “You are full of good ideas,” he leaned up against the doorframe, his voice dropping in pitch. “You don’t think it’ll be cold?”  

“Not in the hot tub,” you shrugged. “I’ll go figure out how to turn it on.” With that, you stood and walked away, smirking at the lack of movement on Dutch’s part.  

Eventually, he pulled himself together and you were already relaxed in the warm water when he came outside, in his own shorts with the champagne in hand. The smile he couldn’t keep off his face was contagious as he placed the drink down and stepped into the water to sit opposite you.  

He did look undeniably cute surrounded by bubbles.  

Once he’d poured a glass, he handed it over and you held it up expectantly, waiting for his toast.  

“Oh no, you were rather critical of my toast yesterday,” he said amusedly, pouring his own glass. “If you want one, you do it.”  

You smiled surreptitiously, tilting your head while you thought. Once one came to mind, you flicked your gaze to his and cleared your throat. “To plentiful sex.”  

Dutch tipped his head back as he laughed, eyes shining when they met yours. “Well, the gods of toasting do seem to have a lot of power in determining sexual relations, it seems, so that is fitting.”  

With a nod of agreement, you extended your arm out and Dutch tapped his glass against yours. He made a show of retaining eye contact while you both took a sip. You jolted when something came into contact with your foot, but relaxed upon the realisation that it was just Dutch’s own foot inching towards you. Your body grew warmer at the insinuation, now heating up from the inside as well the outside thanks to the steamy water. He crept further up your shin, over your knee and up your inner thigh, then paused. He shunted his foot upwards, knocking your glass of champagne and did a good job of spilling it down your front.  

“Dutch,” you cried in a half-laugh, sitting up straight and shivering at the cool alcohol on your skin.  

The man just laughed, but soon leaned over onto your side of the tub. “Don’t worry,” he rumbled, taking your glass and setting it down along with his, “I’ve got it.” With that, he brought his head to your chest and licked the champagne from your cleavage, all the way up to your neck. Your shock swiftly moulded into arousal, sighing softly and arching into his touch.  

“You’re a bastard,” you said despite yourself, but even that came out all breathy.   

“You love it,” he said against your skin, continuing to clear it of the spilt champagne. “Besides,” he lifted his head, “it’d be unfair not to test that toast of yours.”  

“Unfair?” you repeated, running one of his damp curls between your fingers, “unfair on who, exactly?”  

“Me, you, the toast gods...” he said in-between pecks to your chest, trailing down to venture between your breasts once again.  

Your fingertips ran into his scalp, spurring him on. “Well, we can’t have that.”  

Dutch kissed along your clavicle then brought his face to yours. “I admire your fairness.”  

After sighing out a laugh you pecked his lips, and one turned to two which turned to many. He tasted of champagne, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands moving behind your back to untie your bikini. Without breaking the chain of kisses, you made a joint effort to remove it and he instantly found your breasts, caressing them in his hands.  

You moved your fingers through his hair to hold the back of his head, keeping his lips pressed onto yours. Dutch brought his hand to your face, reciprocating your desire until the kiss broke and you brought a palm up to his cheek, the pair of you catching your breath and observing each other as day turned to night. “Are you sure we can do this in here?” you asked.  

“I don’t think I’ll be able to survive the wait to do it anywhere else,” Dutch huffed and that was more reasoning than you needed; you weren’t sure you’d survive it yourself. You encouraged him to sit where he was previously and straddled him, the warm water sloshing around your bodies.   

Dutch hummed as his palms felt their way up your thigh and you angled yourself so that his cock was pressed against you in just the right place between your combined swimwear. His fingers trailed around, squeezing your ass then trailing further still to press over your cunt. Thankfully, he couldn’t tease you for how wet you were this time.  

Your whine in response was likely enough for him to figure it out anyway, and he deftly moved your bikini bottoms to the side so he could slide a finger in, and you clenched around it, searching for more.  

“That’s it,” he cooed, voice thick and breaths short. You ground your clit onto him while he pumped his finger, soon after adding a second. It was greedy, but you always wanted more when it came to this man. His other hand brushed up your flank to reach your breast, running his thumb over your nipple as he intently watched the pleasure spread over your face. “You truly are magnificent.”  

You tutted, lightly pinching his shoulder. “Hush.”  

He shook his head with a smile. “Never.”  

Reaching down to remove his shorts, he lifted his hips to assist, and you decided you might as well go completely bare too. After untying your bottoms, you flung them over the side with his shorts and immediately ground onto his length. Dutch whimpered weakly as you lined up and slowly sunk down onto him.  

“Oh my,” Dutch breathed and held your hips in his hands, keeping your crotch anchored to his while your walls fluttered around him and got used to the feeling. His body was growing familiar, a thing you anticipated but admired all the same just as you had the first time you’d become intertwined.  

You shifted your knees and pressed your torso into his, a gentle hand on his neck to persuade him to look up at you. He did, and with a stifled sigh, you pressed your lips to his. Dutch was oddly pliant, allowing your tongue in and following your lead as you explored his mouth. Experimentally, you raised your hips some and sunk back down, finding a tender rhythm that made him dig his fingernails into your flesh.  

While the air was cold, the two of you were burning hot. Manoeuvring yourself up and down Dutch’s length allowed for a measure of control you hadn’t had previously, and the quiet praise he repeated as you moved told you all you needed to know about his thoughts on the matter. His thighs twitched occasionally, him fighting the urge to pound into you and rush to the finish.  

Leaning back from him, you took in the sight of his steamy, soaked skin, the pink flush that resided there and the defined curls, some of which fell forward onto his face. He was drinking you in, too, your wet skin and exposed nipples, along with the lust-filled expression on your face as your lips parted and eyes grew heavy. The angle allowed for a repeated pressure over the sensitive spot in your walls, and you dropped your head back with a moan as the intensity increased with each thrust.  

“Dutch,” you whispered into the evening air, thoroughly and contently filled with him.  

“I know, darlin’,” he agreed, enamoured with the view of you falling apart right on his lap.  

Dutch’s muscles, highlighted thanks to the blanket of water covering his form, grew taut with the strength of which he clung to you. He squeezed your thighs, dragging his fingernails over your skin and his carnal need flashed dangerously over his eyes. With a growl, you found yourself losing the rhythm you’d built as Dutch forced his own, pulling you down onto him at a much more brutal pace.  

You cried out, Dutch hissing through his teeth as his features scrunched. “Oh, yes,” he said approvingly, “I finally get to hear your pretty song.”  

The more noise you let spill from your mouth, the harder Dutch gripped your flesh and used your body for his enjoyment, the two of you slippery and still yearning for more. You wanted it so bad it hurt, your abdomen burning up as his cock fucked you further and further into a state of euphoria. It was just you and him, able to be animals of your own accord, nobody around to tell you it was wrong or immoral.  

But that was why you liked it. This older, mature man saw the value in you, grew almost obsessive at the thought of your body and the back and forth in your mind slowed every time he showed you just what you did to him. You clouded his judgement; you were worth the risk. You had him panting, pulling your body to his as he claimed all that you were. He had the same effect on you, you supposed.  

Dutch shifted in his seat, digging his feet into the bottom of the tub to try and get further in, to fuck you harder, deeper. “Fuck, darlin’ -” he moaned, tailing off almost into a whimper. “Oh my, my girl. You feel so good. So good.”  

His babbling praise filled your ears, seeped into your skin and fed your very soul. Making him lose his well-practised control only heightened your lust. You whined, feeling over the flexing muscle of his shoulders and holding on for dear life. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if you floated right up into the stars above.  

“Shit, I can’t -” he grunted strenuously, “I’m gonna, sweetheart, I’m gonna -”  

And he did, pulling you as far down onto his cock as he could and dropping his head to your chest, his thighs twitching beneath you as he filled your pussy to the brim. You cradled his jaw, laboured breaths leaving the pair of you as he looked up with those dark eyes of his. He tutted at himself, muttering an apology and you chuckled as he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing across it and pressing down at just the right moment.  

His teeth attacked your neck, and you knew he’d leave a mark but screw it – regardless of anything you couldn’t deny that you were his. It felt too good, his cock and his fingers and his lips exploring every avenue of your body. “Come, darlin’,” he said lowly, his voice hoarse, “let me feel you come on my cock. That’s it. Good girl, come on -”  

Your toes curled and your eyes tightened shut at the feeling that shot through you, a hot wave of shock that buzzed into your appendages. With a moan of relief, you dropped your forehead to press against his, still feeling the after-effects of your orgasm. “That was so -”  

Dutch hummed in agreement, and you were glad he understood.   

Tenseness turned to relaxation as you melted into him, and your body felt weaker and more fucked-out than it ever had. Dutch’s big arms wrapped around you when you rested your head on his shoulder, and you could happily fall asleep right there – even if it did mean you’d look like a prune come morning.  

“I think someone’s ready for bed.”  

“Oh no,” you yawned, “I’m full of energy.”  

Dutch snickered, and you groaned when he shifted, but he shushed you gently. “Just sit there for five seconds, darlin’.”  

You did, begrudgingly, and watched him step out of the hot tub and find his shorts from the floor, pulling them up before turning off the hot tub. Then he reached in and took you in his arms, cradling you as though you were his most prized possession. It was a fair trade, and you wrapped your arms around your neck as he walked into the house and carried you into the bedroom.  

“Now, tell me, you don’t exactly want to get this bed all wet, do you?” you raised your brows at him suggestively, and he shook his head in mild disapproval. “Bad girl. You know that’s not what I meant.”  

“No,” you gave in, “I don’t.”  

“Right. So, I’m gonna stand you up here, wipe us both down with a towel, and then we’ll get comfy. Deal?”  

“Deal,” you parroted, leaning in to press your lips to his.  

Dutch followed up on his end of the bargain, gently dragging the soft towel over your skin. You climbed into bed while he dried himself. He changed into some dry, charcoal grey shorts and glanced over to you. “Would you like your pyjamas?”  

Your answer was a shake of your head, and his expression grew pleased. “Good. I’ll just be a second.”  

He left to lock the doors and turn out the lights and then returned to climb in beside you, immediately pulling you into his chest and you wrapped your leg over his, attempting to get as close as you could.  

“You’re a special girl,” he hummed into your hair, and it was the last thing you remembered hearing before drifting off.  

-

This must’ve been on record for the most showers you’d ever taken in a weekend. Dutch had the expected reaction come morning to your nude form lying half-on him, and you didn’t blame nor begrudge him for it. The two of you were squeaky clean once again by the time you sat down for late breakfast Dutch had insisted on cooking for you.  

“I wish we could stay here,” you said melancholily, leaning back in your chair and taking a swig of orange juice to wash down your food.  

“Don’t tempt me,” Dutch agreed, resting his open palm on the table.  

You placed yours over it and offered him a bittersweet smile, the unfairly quick passing of time feeling almost like a robbery of sorts. Here, you'd been away from your troubles and stress at university, and you'd been able to just be with him without worrying about who'll hear you. It was just what you'd needed. “Thanks for bringing me.”  

“Of course. Fancy enjoying the view for the last few hours?”  

With a nod you stood, and Dutch led you outside, taking a seat on the bench facing the outstretched scenery and you took a sit on his lap in turn. He lit a cigarette and you relaxed into him, glancing up at the hard line of his jaw while he pressed the smoke to his mouth.  

It was so cliché, but god did he look hot while he smoked.  

“I was wondering,” he began, “why don’t the lot of you live in the same flat?”  

“We were meant to. But because I didn’t let the accommodation office know, nobody did.”  

“You really are the good girl of the group.”  

“Hardly,” you huffed, gesturing a hand to him.  

“Touché,” he smirked around his next drag. “Will you next year?”  

“Yeah, either merge our flats or rent a house. Whichever is cheapest.”  

Dutch hummed. “That’s pretty close quarters.”  

“Mhm. So you won’t be able to sneak into my room should you decide to come up again.”  

With a laugh, Dutch gently ran his hand up and down your back. “I won’t need to if you agree to spend the odd weekend with me.”  

“I will,” you relented.  

“Promise?” he asked, and you pecked his cheek.  

“Promise.”  

End Note: Lemme preface this by saying I am not a professional on psychiatry or anything related to it, however, a common opinion about Dutch in the fandom is that he suffers with BPD or something similar. I agree, to the end that I had a family member with it and with a bit of extra research the symptoms do line up with Dutch’s personality. With this being a modern AU, I wanted to delve into how his life could’ve differed with the advancement of medicine and knowledge. That being said, I only have the internet to guide me so I apologise if any part of it seems inaccurate - please correct me if that’s the case! For that reason, I didn’t want to go too deep into it and be irresponsible, but I do love picking this man’s brain apart and it felt wrong not to address it at least a little. I’m not entirely sure how common it is for people with BPD or similar illnesses to reach a level of self-awareness like he does here, but I know it is possible in some cases, and with Dutch being rich it makes sense that he’d at least be able to get access to decent treatment. What we do know from R* is that Dutch struggled with being suicidal (if you haven’t played RDR1 or at least watched the scenes he’s in I highly recommend it) and it ties in well with his circumstance so again I wanted to touch on it.

[ask-carmenpondiego]

Chapter 24: Oh Look! More Popular Character Cameos! It’s Like a Crossover FanFic in here!

Back at the HQ, some of the team was in the living room, watching Molli go through VR challenges, telling her its kinda like training. They placed a zombie game on there and told her not to kill anything, just dodge. It was mostly the guys with Asta and Lekir since Sigryn, Skyggja and Vasha went to keep up the research on any clues to fight Wally’s infection. M had slipped off to work on the C5 Doorway and to get some alone time from his ex turned adopted stray.

Wally, himself, went to his bedroom, for when he’s not in Carmen’s, and stood by his old fashioned bedside washbasin. He spit up a little bit of blood after coughing hard. A couple tiny clinks hit the basin, a few crystals had come loose. He leaned on the edges and hung his head, it was advancing more than he expected. He rolled a shoulder and could feel a tingly grinding now as the crystals were trying to form to his joints. He kept stretching and moving to keep the joints from freezing up as much as he could.

He looked in the mirror, shifting his normal blue eyes to his segmented blue sclera to white fade iris and back again. He didnt want to shift to anything else, it didn’t make him feel like him. But he didn’t know what else to do. He knew of one antidote but it came with an impossibly high cost. He could not bring himself to pay the price, not after so long. He took off this sweater, a few strands of yarn caught and snagged again on the crystals slicing through his body. It itched and ached like mad. He took the clasps Carmen used and started to pull them out himself. He felt like a burden when he asks her for help. He did enjoy how gentle she was, she made it not nearly as painful as when he did it himself.

Soon crystals littered the bottom of the basin, water tinted red. He wasn’t even halfway done and he was exhausted. The crystals even looked bigger this time which worried him. He sat on the bed, holding his head as his elbows rested on his knees. If he doesn’t get cured, he will die and leave his family and new friends. If he pays for the antidote, he still removes his family from his life, but he would be alive. He shook his head, he would rather die than hurt any of them. He needed to prepare for the worst, and cherish everything before that.

Carmen stepped back into the HQ from her trip to Canterlot, a new hat upon her head and some books in her pack. She immediately went to the research room with the other girls and handed the books over. “I spoke with a friend, he said these may help. Its not exact but we may figure something out within the pages. I’ll join in just a moment, I just need to do something real quick.” She picked up another book from her shelves, looking at it briefly before going into the kitchen with the book.

She popped her head into the fridge for an egg and grabbed a large pint glass from the cabinet. She filled the glass with water and started to rub the egg all over every bit of her body she could reach. Kiros had wandered in for a snack and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you’re going to hatch it that way.” Carmen smirked, “No, I’m not hatching. I’m trying something. Its to see if I’ve had a hex placed on me or something. Its a little witchcraft spell, but after today, I’m trying anything.” She finished rubbing the egg over multiple times by now, she wanted to be thorough, and finally cracked it, dropping the contents of the shell into the water, crouching to be at eye level with it. She squinted and wrinkled her nose before consulting the book on any telltale signs like the white spiderwebbing in the water. She carefully twisted the glass, not wanting to disturb the egg, and hmmed. She shut the book and dumped some pepper flakes into it and paused as she picked it up. Looking towards the sink, she smirked. “Technically I should flush this buuut.. if I’m sending whatever back, why not send it back painfully?” She turns on the garbage disposal and dumped the peppered eggy water down the drain, listening to it scramble and mix as it grinds.

“And why do you think someone put a hex on you?” Kiros asked, Carmen washed the cup with salt and water before putting back on the shelf. “I met with a friend while I was out getting some books and they said he saw darkness in my aura, that I changed.. I know there is trauma I’m healing from but darkness? I’m not sure. I still feel like me.” Her face grew uncertain and her shoulders fell a little, not wanting to admit it did have her a bit concerned. Kiros growled a low chuckle, lifting her chin with a finger, “I don’t know of any other ‘bad guy’ who has everyone saying that you have a heart of gold. And you of all people should know Gold doesn’t tarnish. Sure it may chip or break, but don’t jewelers mend it and recast it? But it still never tarnishes. If you are ever hurt enough to go evil or something, we will be right by your side, mending and recasting to bring you back to your golden glory. And whoever hurt you will have to answer to all of us because there will be no escape. You don’t have to be the monster, you have us to do that for you if need be.” Carmen smiles, nuzzling into his hand, “Why are you all so good to me? I don’t think I did much at all.” Kiros simply responded by flicking the very tip of her horn very lightly, making her eye twitch as she yelped, holding her head painfully. “You are Carmen fucking Pondiego. You rescued me from hell, gave me a home, family and a purpose. And I know you did the same for everyone else here one way or another or else they never would have stayed. So don’t you tell me that you did nothing. Besides, if you were evil, you would not have done all this for any of us. But you did. And I think that says something. Believe it or not, we love you more than anything for helping us and always being there.” Carmen smiles, poking his side, “I knew you were really a big softie.”

Just then a pulsing grinding noise was heard in the mech lab. She groaned and rushed over as M yelled out of the room “Oy Red!!” She was already jogging up, “I got it, M. I asked him to come.” The blue police box door opened and a slate blue unicorn with silver hair and wild eyebrows jutted his head out, “Alright, where is she? She called me and now where is she?”

“Cool your jets, old man, I’m right here.” Carmen made her way to the TARDIS and put her hands on her hips. The 12th Doctor narrowed his eyes at her, “You did something different.” Carmen smirked, “No shit, its called shit hitting the fan. Its what it is. Can you look at our time travel equipment? We’re really close with finishing it but I was told that if we do a test run as is, it will make us a beacon to any who wants this technology for the wrong reasons.” He raised an eyebrow, “And a thief wants it for the right reasons?” Carmen points at him, “Hey, I’m not using it to topple governments or to make my own empire! These other groups do! Heaven forbid I want to take a vacation somewhere other than here!” She crossed her arms, as he huffs and shuts the door, reopening it and exiting, “You are troublesome, you know that! Where is the blasted thing.. don’t tell me that hunk of junk is it.” M scowled, putting his hand on his chest dramatically, “I’m sorry?! I don’t fucking have the skills to make a fucking pine box like yours! I just know how to put wires together to make something blink! Its a wonder it works at all Thank you! I worked hard on this! Ya British Wanker!”

The Doctor stops and turns on his heel, “I am Scottish!” M waves him off, “Same thing before Brexit! Yer still a bloody wanker!” The Doctor got close to M, well, as close as he could. M stood a good foot above him, he pointed his sonic screwdriver at M, “I don’t need to help you. Remember that. And don’t touch my TARDIS!!” He pointed to Carmen who was leaning against the box, petting it, “Hey Darling, is he treating you well? I sure hope so, otherwise you could always come here and we could have more of our own adventures..” 079 popped its head onto a screen and rolls its eyes, “I never hear you say those things to me.” Carmen sticks her tongue out, “Maybe if you were nicer, I would.” The Doctor huffs again and turns to the panel M was showing him, and proceeds to go through a different panel. “Why the fuck are you going through that way? The wires are all right here, easy access.” The time lord unicorn muttered, “Do you solve a rubix cube by just matching the one side? I think not! Same with time, its never one sided. And never travels in a straight line.” M handed over the interdimensional matter transporter device he was still working on connecting, “Yeah? So where does this fit into it?” The Doctor pulls his head out of the panel and narrows his eyes, “Where’d you get this?” M shrugs and points over to Carmen, “Oh I received that as a gift from a friend. We need to figure out how to not only travel through time but also multiverse. I’m running out of options to find something and I’m running out of time to find it.” He looked at her suspiciously. “Who?”

“Waldo.”

“You said he was dead.”

“I said I THOUGHT he was dead. He came home recently but he’s infected and we need a cure.”

The Doctor thinks for a moment and goes back to repairing the wiring and connecting the device. “Well, best we get this up and running then. I will need two or three of your people who understand basic mechanics and tech to assist.” Carmen nods, and pages her agents “On it, Kiros, Skyggja, can you come to the mech lab? We need tech assistance.” The Doctor stood up and took his dark navy coat with red inner lining off and handed it Carmen before rolling up his sleeves as Kiros, Skyggja and Lekir walk in. Lekir stopped short as she sees the Doctor. “Oooh, Sexy Magic man is back~” Carmen hands her the coat, “Hey love, can you put this in the coat closet in the hall? It may be a while.” Lekir swoons and holds the coat as if given the highest award on the red carpet. She holds it close and sniffs it. “Mmm Sexy Magic Doctor man…” Carmen shooed her out as she also left to check on Wally, “Go on and simp on him later, he’s doing us a huge favor that I’ll owe him bigtime for. I gotta check on Wally and the research group, can you check on how the others are doing with our Stray?” Lekir pouted and nods but kept hold of the coat, sniffing it occasionally.

Carmen looked into her bedroom, then Wally’s and gasped as blue stallion was still struggling pulling out crystals. “Wally! Don’t do this by yourself! Let me help you! Ooh what a mess.. here, I’ll clean you up.” He sighed and shook his head, “I dont want to be a burden. I want you to enjoy me as me and not this monstrosity while I still have some time.” Carmen resisted slapping his shoulder, “No, you listen to me, you are going to have a long life. You hear me? You will not die on me unless I kill you first! And thats probably going to be by overloading you with love! We will find a cure. I promise. And we’ll be together for a very long time.” She grabbed some medical cleaning solutions and gauze, cleaning up the streams of blood coming from the holes the crystals had made.

“This is getting worse than anticipated..” she frets, as he nods, “I know. I want to hold out hope for a cure but.. let’s face it. I’m just going to enjoy what I have right now and make the best of it.” Carmen sniffled and continued to work. “Well I’m not giving up. And neither are you. You’re not getting away from me that easy.” He smiled, “I’m glad you have my back.” She raised an eyebrow, washing more spots of blood, “What do you mean? I’ve always had your back.” He chuckled, “No I mean, I can’t reach back there, its been killing me today..” she laughed as he moved and positioned so he could lay his head on her lap as she still works on his back. When she was done, he had dozed off, snoring softly. She removed his hat and set it aside, petting his mousey brown hair, running her silver fingers through it. She gazed at him, being lost in the single thought of how happy she was to have him there.. and slowly noticed her arms and hands started to look like her natural color save for the panel lines. She grinned as she was able to focus and make slight adjustments to the nail color and debated on waking him. She heard his breathing slow and calming, she decided to let him rest, still petting him gently as she leaned her back against the headboard and unintentionally nodding to sleep herself.