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bloodreinasbathwater · 4 months

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The Art & The Muse

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Artist!Reader

a:n took me forever to post this because I thought it was so boring (overthinking) and my Nico fic has taken up so much time, but here she is the artist and Luke in the official part 1.

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Summary: A struggling artist finds inspiration in the most unexpected place - a painting class which the famous Luke Hughes has joined. y/n is in awe at his beauty, finding herself fascinated by his masculine beauty.

Part 1

word count - 3500

Y/N's fingers gripped the charcoal pencil with practiced ease as she surveyed the blank canvas before her, a slight furrow in her brow. Around her, the chatter of the other students filled the air, but she found herself quickly tuning it all out, her focus narrowing to the task at hand.

In her mind's eye, she could already see the image she wanted to create: a solitary figure standing on the precipice of a towering cliff, their gaze lost in the vast expanse of the ocean below. It was a scene that had haunted her dreams for weeks, and she couldn't wait to bring it to life.

She shook her head, ridding herself of any new ideas for the time being. This painting class was meant to learn a new perspective, to master the art of realism that had eluded her for the past two years. Her company had been nagging her relentlessly to deliver a new collection, and she knew she needed to regain her focus.

The class had begun, and the instructor - a petite woman with a warm smile and thick accent - was busy demonstrating techniques for sketching the live model posing at the front of the room.

Y/N nodded along absently, her eyes flickering toward the model, but it wasn't long before her gaze was drawn elsewhere.

"Alright, class, let's start with the basics," the instructor said, her voice lilting with an exotic flair. "Pay close attention to the model's posture, the way the light hits their skin. These are the details that will bring your sketch to life."

Y/N hummed in acknowledgement, but her focus had already shifted. Three easels down, sat a man who had immediately captured her attention the moment he'd walked through the door.

His sandy brown curls peeked out from under a well-worn beanie, and his strong, angular features were enough to make Y/N's breath catch in her throat.

She knew she shouldn't stare, that it was rude to ignore the instructor's guidance, but she simply couldn't tear her eyes away. There was something magnetic about this man, from the way he held his charcoal pencil between calloused fingers to the intense focus etched into the lines of his face as he worked.

The instructor had moved on to demonstrating color mixing, but Y/N barely registered the words.

Before she could stop herself, Y/N's hand began to move across the canvas, charcoal leaving bold strokes in its wake. She sketched the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the mesmerizing fullness of his lips. Each line was infused with a reverence, a fascination that had taken hold of her very being.

As the instructor continued to walk the room, offering guidance and critiques, Y/N found herself falling further and further under the spell of this enigmatic stranger.

She should have been following along, observing the live model and honing her own technique, but something about this man had utterly captivated her.

The sharp planes of his shoulders, the flex of muscle in his forearm as he worked - Y/N drank it all in, her fingers moving with a fervor that belied her usual cool, composed demeanor.

This was no longer just a simple sketching exercise; it had transformed into an exploration, a quest to unravel the mysteries hidden within every inch of this man's captivating form.

Y/N's brow furrowed in concentration, her tongue peeking out from between her lips as she navigated the delicate shadows and contours of his features.

She knew, deep down, that this was a risky endeavor - what if he caught her staring? What would the other students think? - but in that moment, none of it mattered.

"Wonderful work, class! Now, let's move on to adding depth and dimension with shading."

Y/N risked another glance in his direction, her breath catching in her throat as she noticed him glance up, his intense gaze sweeping the room.

For a moment, their eyes met, and Y/N felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her. His brow furrowed slightly, as if he'd sensed her scrutiny, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Oh Jesus Christ, get a grip," she muttered under her breath, determinedly keeping her eyes fixed on her own canvas.

As the class wore on, Y/N found herself growing increasingly distracted, her sketches growing sloppy and unfocused. The instructor's critiques sailed over her head, her mind too preoccupied with unravelling the mystery of the alluring stranger.

Finally, the lesson drew to a close, and Y/N let out a quiet sigh of relief. Quickly, she gathered her supplies, eager to make a hasty exit before the man had a chance to notice her. But just as she turned to leave, a flash of movement caught her eye.

There he was, standing just a few feet away, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, suspended in a charged silence.

Then, before Y/N could react, he took a step forward, a curious expression on his face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and velvety smooth. "I'm Luke."

…

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath as she pushed open the glass doors of the towering office building, the sleek marble floors and modern decor greeting her with an air of cool professionalism. Squaring her shoulders, she strode purposefully towards the elevator bank, her heels clicking against the polished tiles.

As she waited for the elevator, Y/N could feel the familiar fluttering of nerves in the pit of her stomach. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation, she knew that much.

Her reps had been hounding her for months, pressuring her to deliver a new collection. It was the same old song and dance - her art was in high demand, and her company was eager to capitalize on her success.

The elevator dinged, and Y/N stepped inside, her fingers drumming anxiously against the railing as it carried her up to the 15th floor. When the doors finally slid open, she made her way down the plush carpeted hallway, the sound of her heels muffled.

Approaching the sleek wooden doors of her company's offices, she paused for a moment, taking another deep breath to steel her nerves.

"You can do this," she murmured to herself, before pushing open the doors and stepping into the reception area.

The secretary, a prim-looking woman with a severe bun, looked up from her computer screen, her eyebrows arching slightly at Y/N's arrival. "Ms. Y/N," she said, her tone clipped. "They're expecting you."

Y/N nodded, forcing a polite smile as she moved to take a seat on one of the plush leather couches that adorned the waiting area. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, betraying the anxiety that roiled within her. This wasn't the first time she'd been summoned to this office, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.

Time seemed to crawl by as she sat there, the tick of the clock on the wall the only sound that broke the stifling silence. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the secretary rose from her desk.

"They'll see you now," she announced, gesturing towards the ornate double doors that led to the executive offices.

Y/N rose on shaky legs, taking one last steadying breath before pushing open the doors and stepping inside. The plush, wood-paneled office was exactly as she remembered - imposing and intimidating, a physical manifestation of the power wielded by the company that controlled her artistic future.

Seated behind the massive mahogany desk were three stern-faced individuals, their piercing gazes fixed squarely on her. Y/N felt her heart hammering in her chest as she approached, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N," the man in the center spoke, his voice level but tinged with a subtle edge of impatience. "We have some...concerns we'd like to discuss with you."

Y/N nodded mutely, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she braced herself for the impending confrontation. The three figures seated before her - the company's CEO, CFO, and head of marketing - regarded her with a disconcerting blend of expectation and exasperation.

"As you know, Y/N," the CEO began, steepling his fingers atop the gleaming desktop, "your work has been in incredibly high demand these past few years. Your paintings have become the talk of the art world, and our company has greatly benefited from your success."

Y/N felt a prickle of unease creep up her spine. She knew where this was heading, and it made her stomach churn with dread.

"However," the man continued, his brow furrowing slightly, "we've noticed a...concerning trend as of late. It's been months since your last major release, and our clients are growing restless." He paused, his steely gaze boring into her. "To be blunt, they're demanding new work. And that's where our concern lies."

Y/N opened her mouth, scrambling for a response, but the CFO cut her off with a raise of his hand.

"We've been patient, Y/N, but our patience is wearing thin. You're our biggest asset, our crown jewel. And frankly, we can't afford to have you sitting idle." He leaned forward, his expression grim. "There's been...talk of other artists who may be able to provide the output we need. Artists who are hungrier, more prolific than you."

Y/N's heart sank like a stone. She knew exactly who they were referring to - Jacob, a rising star in the art world whose bold, innovative style had been the talk of the industry for months. He'd been aggressively courting her company, and by the sounds of it, they were seriously considering his overtures.

"I...I understand your concern," Y/N managed, hating the way her voice wavered. "But I can assure you, I'm working on a new collection as we speak. In fact, I have one more painting to finish, and then I'll have the entire series ready for you."

The three executives exchanged a loaded glance, their expressions unreadable. Finally, the CEO leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, that's...excellent news, Y/N. We're pleased to hear it." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "Of course, we'll need to see the completed works as soon as possible. You understand the urgency of the situation, I'm sure."

Y/N nodded mutely, her mouth suddenly dry. "Absolutely. I'll have everything ready by my deadline."

"Wonderful." The CEO rose from his seat, his two colleagues following suit. "We look forward to seeing what you've created. Don't disappoint us, Y/N."

As they filed out of the office, Y/N felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of her stomach. She'd lied through her teeth, and they all knew it. But what choice did she have? Her career, her very livelihood, hung in the balance. She had to deliver, no matter the cost.

…

Luke’s pov

Luke pushed open the front door of the apartment he shared with his older brother Jack, the familiar sounds of chatter and laughter immediately greeting him. However, as he stepped inside, the first thing that caught his eye was an unfamiliar figure curled up on their couch beside Jack.

She was a striking woman, with fiery red hair that spilled over her shoulders in lush waves. Her features were bold and angular, with a nose that seemed slightly disproportionate to the rest of her face. Luke couldn't help but stare for a moment, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Hey?" he said quietly, the lilt in his voice making it sound more like a question than a greeting.

Jack perked up at the sound, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips as he lightly pushed the woman off his shoulder. Turning around, he draped his chest over the back of the couch, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Lukey! There you are," he exclaimed. "How was the class?"

Luke glanced down at his hands, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "Uh, it was fine, I guess," he mumbled. "I, uh, actually met a girl there."

Jack's grin widened, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. "A girl, huh? Do tell!"

"It wasn't that serious," Luke hurried to clarify, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I just...I caught her staring at me a couple times, that's all."

"Ooh, a secret admirer!" Jack crowed, practically bouncing in his seat. "Way to go, bro! So, what's she like? Is she cute?"

Luke shrugged, fighting the urge to fidget under his brother's intense scrutiny. "I don't know, I didn't really get a chance to talk to her much. She seemed nice, I guess."

Jack let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in exasperation. "Typical Luke, always so reserved. Come on, man, give me the juicy details! What did she look like? Was there any, you know, chemistry?" He waggled his eyebrows again, and the woman beside him giggled coyly.

Luke felt his cheeks burning, suddenly wishing he could just disappear. "I don't know, Jack," he grumbled. "She left before I had a chance to ask much, it was just a painting class, that's all. Nothing special."

"Aw, don't be like that." Jack reached out and gave Luke's arm a playful shove. "You gotta put yourself out there more, bro. How else are you gonna meet someone?"

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the woman beside Jack piped up, her voice sugary sweet. "Maybe I could help you with that, handsome."

Luke blinked, his gaze snapping to her as he realized she was addressing him. "Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," he mumbled, mentally kicking himself for his lack of social grace.

The woman giggled again, batting her eyelashes coyly. "I'm Amber. It's so nice to meet you, Luke."

Both Luke and Jack shared an incredulous look, their brows furrowing in matching expressions of confusion.

Luke stood still, his shoulders tensing as he registered Amber's words. "What do you mean by that?" he cringed, his tone laced with suspicion.

Amber giggled again, seemingly oblivious to the brothers' discomfort. "Well, I just thought maybe I could help you find a special someone," she purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "After all, a handsome guy like you shouldn't be single, right?"

Luke's features soured into a sour expression as he awaited her answer. "I, uh, I'm not really looking for -"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up," Jack cut in, holding up a hand. "Are you trying to set my brother up or something?"

Amber turned her gaze to Jack, seemingly delighted by the interruption. "Well, I just thought it would be fun! You know, double dates and all that."

Luke felt his stomach twist with discomfort. This was the last thing he needed - some random woman trying to play matchmaker. He opened his mouth, fully prepared to shut down the idea, when Jack beat him to the punch.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but that's not really our thing," Jack said, his usual easygoing demeanor laced with a subtle edge. "Luke's not interested in that kind of setup. He likes to do his own thing, you know?"

Amber's face fell, a brief flash of disappointment crossing her features before she quickly schooled them into an overly bright smile. "Oh, I see. Well, that's a shame." She reached out, placing a hand on Jack's arm. "I'm sure we could still have fun, though, right?"

Luke watched the exchange with a mixture of relief and mild disgust. He'd never been one for the whole dating scene, and the thought of being set up by some random woman he'd just met made his skin crawl.

As Jack and Amber continued to flirt, Luke took the opportunity to slip away, muttering a hasty excuse about needing to unwind from the painting class.

Once he was safely ensconced in his room, Luke let out a long, weary sigh. Sometimes he envied Jack's ability to charm just about anyone - it would certainly make his own romantic life a lot easier. But for Luke, the whole dating game just felt like more trouble than it was worth.

With a shake of his head, he flopped down on his bed, fully intending to avoid the living room for the rest of the evening. The last thing he needed was to get roped into some bizarre double date scheme. No, he was perfectly content to just enjoy the rest of his day off in peace and quiet.

…

Y/N pushed open the door to her loft apartment, panting heavily as she battled to keep her armful of supplies from spilling. The large canvases she was carrying ruffled against the fabric of her coat, the bottles of paint and brushes clanking together with every step.

Frustration etched across her features, Y/N kicked the door open wider, accidentally dropping the heavy canvases to the floor with a dull thud. "Shit!" she cursed, quickly bending down to scoop them up and push them further into the apartment, letting the door slam shut behind her.

Her steps were heavy as she plodded over to the kitchen island, unceremoniously depositing the bags of art supplies. With a weary sigh, Y/N shrugged out of her coat, hanging it by the front door before flipping on the light switch, casting the spacious loft in a warm glow.

As she crossed the room, her gaze was immediately drawn to the massive painting that dominated one wall. With a flick of a switch, the mechanical blinds whirred to life, pulling back to reveal the stunning, yet hauntingly emotional work.

Shades of deep blue and mossy green swirled and blended together, creating an almost hypnotic backdrop for the central figure - a woman, her body draped in chains that seemed to constrict and bind her. The pain and anguish etched into her features was unmistakable, tugging at Y/N's heart.

Y/N stared at the painting, her brow furrowed in deep contemplation. She had been working on this piece for weeks, pouring her heart and soul into every brushstroke, every carefully rendered detail. And yet, something was still... missing.

Crossing the room, she reached out to trace the outline of the woman's face, her fingertips skimming the textured surface of the canvas. She knew this painting was important, a powerful statement on the weight of societal expectations and the struggle for personal freedom. But the emotions it evoked in her were complex, a tangled web of frustration, sorrow, and a deep, primal need to break free.

Y/N's gaze drifted to the discarded art supplies on the island, her mind racing as she considered her next move. As Y/N set to work, carefully selecting her paints and brushes, her thoughts inevitably drifted back to the enigmatic man she had encountered in her art class - Luke.

Try as she might to focus solely on the task at hand, the memory of his striking features and captivating gaze kept creeping into the forefront of her mind. She shook her head, chiding herself for the distraction.

"Get it together," she murmured under her breath, dipping her brush into the rich ultramarine paint. "You have a deadline to meet, remember?"

And yet, despite her best efforts, her mind kept circling back to that fateful moment when Luke had approached her, introducing himself with a warm smile. Y/N felt her palms grow clammy at the mere recollection, her legs beginning to bounce up and down in a nervous fidget.

She had been so caught up in her own work, so consumed by the need to finish her painting, that when he'd come over to speak to her, she had panicked. The words had stuck in her throat, her tongue feeling thick and clumsy, and she'd barely managed a coherent response before practically fleeing the scene.

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, trying to push the memory aside as she focused on blending the paint on her palette. "It was just a stupid class," she chided herself. "You're a professional, for heaven's sake. You can't afford to get distracted by some...some pretty face."

And yet, even as she tried to convince herself of that, a part of her couldn't help but wonder about Luke. Who was he, really? What was it about him that had so thoroughly captivated her, even in the brief moments they'd interacted?

Shaking her head, Y/N turned her attention back to the canvas, her brush gliding across the surface with renewed determination. She didn't have time to dwell on these silly daydreams and flights of fancy. She had a job to do, a deadline to meet, and a company that was counting on her.

Still, as she worked, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if she might cross paths with Luke again. And whether, this time, she'd have the courage to truly get to know him.

…

Tag List <3

@dasiysthings, @mileyraes

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alittlerobin · 2 months

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Roger/Kate

tags: nsfw; oral, face-fucking, intercrural, dacryphilia, rough play word count: 2.3k

She stood outside the door to the lab, wringing her hands into her skirts as she worked up the nerve to go inside.

Not like it mattered. She couldn’t just turn around and leave, because he’d already know she was there. She knew he always listened to her footsteps, to her heartbeat, knowing exactly when she approached and when she shied away. If she left now, she’d doubtlessly hear him calling out to her, that smooth and cocky voice telling her to stop fretting and get her butt inside.

Squaring her shoulders, she pressed her hands against the door and pushed it open. There was no point knocking, anyway. Roger sat at his main lab table, his gaze trained on a thick stack of notes. He didn’t react, but he would’ve known she was coming to see him the moment her foot took the first step down into the basement.

She crossed the room halfway, then stopped, staying out of reach. Except Roger didn’t look at her. He simply kept scribbling on the page, the pencil lead scratching the paper with each quick stroke.

It was her choice to come here. Her choice to ask him for help. But… come on, couldn’t he catch the hint and let her off easy for once?

She huffed, cheeks puffed out and pouty… and was rewarded with a quiet chuckle.

“Need something, lil lady?”

Yes. She did.

She’d been stressed, frustrated. During the last mission, her mistake had gotten Jude stabbed. And no matter how much Ellis insisted it would’ve happened regardless, it didn’t help. She was definitely better now than when she’d joined Crown, stronger, more sensible, but… it wasn’t enough. She wanted to do more, help more, fight more—and when she failed, it made her angry with herself, with no real outlet for it.

“......I need to cry.”

The pencil dropped. “Oh.”

“But I can’t make myself cry, no matter what I try right now, so…” She kept her gaze down, watching the floor as she spoke, but she heard the scraping of the stool as Roger pushed it back. She didn’t need to look up to know he would be staring at her in anticipation. “...Will you make me cry?”

“And that’s already my reward for helping out, yeah?”

A small smile cracked the corners of her lips. He tried to play it off, but she didn’t need his ability to hear the hitch in his breath. “I’ll remind you that right now, you owe me a favor, not the other way around.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. She didn’t have to wait long. A moment later, his feet were on the floor before her and her chin was being lifted.

Roger cradled her face in his large hands and stroked a thumb across her cheek. His touch was gentle, almost curious, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. “You wanna be more specific about how I can make you cry?”

She… couldn’t say it out loud. Even if she’d managed to bring herself here, she wasn’t sure if she could string those words together. If she could ask him outright, plead for him to be rough like always, to make it seem like he was taking what he wanted by force when they both knew how down bad they were for each other—even if they refused to bring that dirty little fact out into the open.

She met his amber gaze straight on, body tense and lips pursed, but her determination unwavering.

It only took a second for him to smirk and say, “Or do you want me to hazard a guess?”

As if he didn’t already know the answer. “You know... what I like.”

“Yeah, I sure as hell do.”

He didn’t waste time. One arm snaked around her waist, while his other hand jerked her in by the chin as he crashed their mouths together. Any leeway he usually gave her was gone, the sweetness of ill-advised under-the-fireworks kisses forsaken in lieu of teeth pulling on her lower lip and a tongue thrusting into her mouth.

But that was exactly what she wanted.

Her fingers curled against his vest, feeling the firm muscle beneath—and she shivered, knowing exactly how it felt to be pinned beneath his strong arms and broad chest, only ever pretending she didn’t want to give him everything.

One of his hands traveled up her chest, palming one of her breasts and squeezing it. Another deep chuckle rumbled against her mouth, and he shifted his mouth away, pressing his lips to her ear instead. “No corset today? Thought you were a proper, decent woman.”

“Well…” She bit back a whimper as he pinched a nipple, pain sparking with pleasure. “I also know what you like…”

“You sure as hell do.” The echo of their words rolled warm against her ear, making her whole body shiver. His hand kneaded her breasts through the fabric of her blouse and his teeth tugged on her earlobe. She didn’t know how he did it, how he got her so wet so fast, already aching to feel his fingers inside her.

Only he didn’t hitch up her skirts like he usually did.

Instead, he pushed her down, her skirts barely cushioning her knees as they hit the cold laboratory floor. Maybe she wasn’t good with getting the words out yet, but she could raise her hands, undoing the fastening of his pants as soon as he’d stripped off his belt.

His cock sprang free, half-hard and already intimidating. His large hand wrapped around the base, giving it a few quick strokes as she parted her lips, tipping up to kiss it. The salt of his precum had barely hit her tongue before his hands were in her hair, twisting into the strands as he fucked into her mouth.

He was so big and thick it made her jaw ache. His fingers tangled in her hair, gripping roughly, the pull almost there but not enough. Not enough to draw out the tears she wanted to spill. Not until he started to thrust into her mouth, fast and deep, pumping himself down her throat.

It wasn’t the first time. She’d had him in her mouth before, after a night of a few too many drinks at his favorite pub. That night, he’d carried her up the castle stairs in his arms while she nuzzled her face in the side of his neck, inhaling the scent of beer, medicine, and a musk that was distinctly him. He’d set her down in her bed, but she was the one who’d refused to let go, who fumbled with his clothes and his belt and sucked him into her mouth before he could hiss out a warning.

Roger had been gentle then, coaxing her with softly muttered encouragements. He’d stroked her hair gently and slid his hand to her throat, instructing her on how to relax it so she could take more and more of him in, until her nose nestled into the dark curls all the way at the hilt.

But tonight, she didn’t want gentle and he wasn’t giving it to her. Her fingers gripped his thighs, bracing herself as she tried not to choke on each hard snap of his hips, a mist finally building in her eyes.

Almost there…

That’s what she wanted. For him to use her, to be rough and domineering even while he groaned and muttered, “Good girl, just look at how good you take me. Came down here just to get on your knees and suck my cock like that, looking so blissed out even though I’ve barely touched you.”

Was that how she looked? Lips parted, eyes hazy, a blush burning across her cheeks? Enraptured to have his cock down her throat and his fists full of her hair, her mind and body pleading for anything he’d give her?

Moaning, her lashes fluttered as she shifted, knowing that if she slid a hand between her thighs he’d just slap it away. She rested herself on the heel of her foot, just to put a bit of pressure against her aching cunt.

That first night, after she’d swallowed thick ribbons of his cum, Roger had fucked her with four of his fingers, muffling each of her moans with kisses as he brought her to climax again and again. She had barely been able to get out of bed in the morning, body aching and thighs sore, her mind reeling from bad decisions.

But it had been so good. And so, so, so good every time after. Every mission together, every late night in the lab, every hasty fumble when the stress grew too great and the need too tempting.

She arched her tongue and sucked as best she could as he sank himself deep, hitting the back of her throat with a bruising pace. A moment later, she heard him swear, his fingers leaving her hair as he pulled out. Roger hastily squeezed his fingers around the base of his cock, staving off his orgasm.

Kate was about to object, to plead for him to cum in her mouth, on her face, whatever he wanted. Instead, he jerked her up to her feet and yanked her around, throwing her facedown onto his table.

Glass shattered somewhere—perhaps a vial—but neither of them reacted. Roger bent over her, dwarfing her body with his. He flipped up her skirts and dragged down her underwear, rubbing the tip of his hard cock between her dripping wet folds.

He wouldn’t—she knew he wouldn’t—but her stomach still tightened and her legs quivered as she mewled out a barely audible, “N-no…”

She didn’t even mean it anymore. It was automatic, the faint protest now only a formality in whatever the hell it was they had going on between them. Because even as she said no, she pushed back against him, helping coat him in the slick nectar dripping down her thighs.

“You sure?” His mouth was hot against her ear, voice low and deep. His hands took hold of her waist, keeping her bent over the table as he thrust his cock between her thighs. “Because I can hear how fast your heart’s beating right now, and I bet it’d beat even faster if I fucked right inside you. Fucked in nice and deep... Bet you’d like it fast and rough, till those pretty nails of yours carved into the wood cause you didn’t know if you wanna beg me to stop or take you even harder.”

A moan spilled from her lips, picturing it as she rubbed herself onto him. The fat tip of his cock caught on her entrance, just at the brink. If she tipped herself back, he’d fill her just like he said. She wanted it, wanted to be stretched out on his thick cock, wanted it inside her, scoring her, molding her to its shape.

“Don’t you want that, Kate?” His fingers tightened on her waist, bruising her skin, and he pushed—but instead of slipping inside, he slid between her folds. Her insides clenched, empty and wanting, practically screaming for him to claim her.

“N-no…”

“You sure? Cause I think you do.” He bucked hard, each thrust made easy by the nectar flowing out of her. His cock rubbed between her folds, catching her clit for a brief second, only enough to tease and drive her crazy. “I think you want me fucking you, filling you up till my cum drips down your thighs. I’d fuck you so good, fuck you till your legs gave out, and then I’d eat it out of you while you soaked my tongue, barely able to remember anything except how to moan my name.”

“Th-that…” Sounded so good. She could picture it, could see how he’d fold her in half and drive himself deep until she screamed his name and begged him to keep going. “Ahh, Roger, p-please—”

“Please what, huh?”

“Please… everything.”

She felt him lean down, brushing his lips across the nape of her neck, and then he forced her legs tighter together, fucking between them at brutal pace. Her hips dug into the edge of the table, pain blending with pleasure, and she gasped when she felt him spilling between her thighs.

A second later, he’d flipped her over, throwing her legs over his shoulders. He hitched her higher, her spine arching as his mouth went straight to her cunt, two fingers plunging inside along with his tongue. She would’ve thrashed from the pure pleasure if the arm around her waist didn’t hold her steady, pushing her further onto his mouth. He fucked her open and sucked on her clit until she came, gasping and crying and squirting onto his tongue.

It was so good, so fucking good all she could do was squirm, moaning his name again and again. Tears finally, finally spilled down her cheeks and she sobbed as he kept going. He ate her out, taking her from her first orgasm straight to the second. Her legs trembled, followed by her entire body until the pulses became so strong she had to grab fistfuls of his hair and force him away from her, clenching her legs shut as she shook with rapture.

Roger handled her so easily, a smirk on his glistening lips as he set her down on the table and wrapped her in his arms. He pulled her close, kissing her mouth, then her face, seeking out his payment. The flat of his tongue swept across her skin, licking up every tear before he pressed two gentle kisses to each of her eyelids.

"Feeling better?"

Catching her breath, Kate nodded and draped her arms around his neck. She didn’t bother trying to let the tears stop. Instead, she let them flow freely as she buried her face in his neck and whispered a barely audible plea of, "...Again."

Dividers by @natimiles

#ikevil #ikemen villains #ikevil roger #ikevil kate #roger barel #ikevil fanfic #ikevil fanfiction #ikevil smut

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noonswrites · 2 years

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Honesty

synopsis: you’re in Xavier’s studio and he senses something other than your homework is troubling you…

warnings: oral f!receiving, handjob, fingering, penetration

you’ve been staring at your homework for some time now, trying to remember the name of a carnivorous plant while chewing the eraser of your pencil. Xavier studies your face, penciling in your furrowed brow down on his sketchbook. he could probably do this drawing with his eyes closed and document all of your features perfectly, but he chooses to watch you, for “practicing” purposes. you let out a groan of frustration and lay down on the floor next to him.

“need some help?” he offered as he shut his sketchbook, leaning over you, with his hands on the floor on either side of your head. his tall frame sprawled over your horizontal one, face inches from yours. your eyes flitted down to his lips.

he stays hovering over you for an annoyingly long amount of time; his stupidly soft hair brushing your face while his eyes scan your features looking for something in them. he finally rolls off of you “love, i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong”. Xavier knows exactly what’s wrong— he could tell by the almost nonexistent glance you snuck to his lips. he’s decided to be insufferable about it before you can even choose how to respond.

you sit up and he does the same. your eyes shift downward as your fingers make their way to the hem of his shirt. you begin to play with it and let out an exasperated sigh. his hand crawls to the back of your neck and gently pushes your chin to face him, and while caressing your cheek he teases “if you don’t say anything now i’ll just make it harder for you to later”

“i needed help with my assignment” you let out hurriedly. he can tell he’s getting to you now, and slides his hand down to your waist.

“that’s it? you sure?” he whispers in your ear and you shiver. Xavier watches you intently as you avoid his eyes, your cheeks tinted pink. he considers what this would look like on his sketchbook, and concludes that your features aren’t wanton enough for his liking.

he kisses along your cheekbone and hovers above your lips, taunting you in hopes of earning a kiss. the playful psychic leans in impossibly closer, and now your lips are touching and he can feel your short breaths. a hand writhes up under your shirt, caressing your bare back while he does this. you finally concede, giving him the kiss he wouldn’t dare ask for himself.

it’s cut short by him pulling away “i don’t like liars…” a smug look sits on his prideful face. you don’t reply to this, which prompts him to lean over you again, pushing your weight to the floor. he starts to press chaste kisses along your neck and eventually down to your chest, stopping at your lower stomach. hands slide up and down your thighs and you jump at how gentle his touch is. his lips curl again at your reaction and he slides back upwards so he’s face to face with you again.

you pick up on the hungry look in his eyes, his pupils blown out. “kiss me” he says, and you oblige. he’s much more vigorous with his lips now and you’re afraid yours will bruise. he nibbles on your bottom lip and you feel yourself getting dizzier by the second. Xavier is flushed, still not satisfied with the glazed look on your face.

“ahh… so you do listen?” he teased. you’re panting now, and his sly smirk softens into a genuine smile “my pretty girl…” you hope this is a sign of defeat but Xavier would never let you off that easily. his long fingers make their way down to your stomach, right above your crotch.

“need you to tell me what you want now so i don’t hurt you okay? no more being stubborn” he says earnestly. his fingers draw comforting shapes on your skin.

“n-need you to t-touch me please” you let out. he rewards you by rubbing circles in between your thighs, eagerly awaiting your reaction. his eyes have never left your face since you started kissing him, and although he’s being mean, he can’t help the ingenuous look of adoration he wears as his face lays on your thigh. you let out an inescapable moan as your hips involuntarily twitch.

“so eager” he hums in between kisses on your stomach “so what were you saying about that assignment earlier?” you cover your face with your hands and groan. “need to see you my love, i want to watch you fall apart while i’m winning this argument” you reluctantly lift your hands as he pulls down your underwear.

“god i wish i could paint you like this” you’re on the verge of tears now, overwhelmed with all of the teasing.

“please xavier” you can barely recognize your own voice, so desperate and strung out. he finally flattens his tongue against your pussy and licks a stripe upwards, stopping at your clit and wrapping his lips around it. your whole body tingles and xavier is so hard it hurts, but he pushes through, just as desperate for you to come as you are now. he changes his approach, and you recognize what he’s doing. Xavier kisses your clit as softly as he kisses your lips, pulling away every so often to look at you. you feel like you could melt into the mattress. you watch as he does it again, leaning down while his eyes gently flutter shut as he envelops your sensitive spot, sensing your pulse as he passionately suckles it. your hands search for something to hold on to and xavier notices, gently reaching over to hold them.

his tongue dives into your hole and you whine “feels so g-good” prompting him to lean into you more. you know if you weren’t so lost in pleasure, you’d be slightly embarrassed of the position you’re in now, with Xavier fervently working his tongue in you and your uncontrollable moaning. Xavier is not unaware of this, taking advantage of you being blissfully unaware of how you look and sound as a chance to make you as loud as he can, curling his tongue upwards and repeating the action a few times. your hand squeezes his when he licks circles around your clit, amused by how it makes you squirm. His boyish grin makes another appearance.

“pretty girl… are you… embarrassed?” you turn your head away helplessly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he giggles and you peek over at him again. xavier takes this opportunity to slowly insert two of his fingers into your cunt, curling them upwards, causing you to twitch. he pauses before pulling them out slowly, as they are completely soaked even before he puts them in his mouth and sucks on them.

“stop” you let out unconvincingly; as the previous action was responsible for making you somehow wetter than you were before.

“if that’s what you want-“ he starts to say honestly “no please- need you- need to c-“ he hushes you with a kiss and a tear rolls down your cheek, which he wipes away with his thumb.

“i know my love, i only did it because i needed you to be honest” he says while your foreheads are pressed together. “wanted you to learn your lesson okay?” you nod. Xavier doesn’t really mean this, if your dishonesty led to the current situation, he never wanted you to be honest again. he gazes at the evidence of his actions in awe: your tinted cheeks, tear stained lashes, puffy lips and slightly furrowed brow, and decides he needs to watch you fall apart from this angle. you wrap an arm and leg around him and start to kiss his neck as his fingers make his way down to your pussy. he slips two of them back in and you suck on his neck harder. he curls them upwards and you bite him softly because you can’t help it. he moans and attempts to keep moving his fingers, but you grab his wrist and look up at him.

“need you inside” as he looks down at you, you can tell he’s losing his composure. his mouth is agape and eyes lidded with rosy cheeks to match yours. whatever restraint he had left vanishes as you pull his dick out of his pants, ready to do whatever you ask of him. you begin to pump it a few times, taking advantage of the fact that he’s distracted. xavier’s eyes roll back and he lets out a soft moan, and you kiss the bruised spot on his neck. he’s hard as a rock but the rest of him is limp, pliant to your ministrations. you slip your other hand up his shirt, softly caressing his chest, and this is what finally forces his eyes back down to you. you’re surprised to find him teary-eyed, and Xavier can’t control his urge to kiss you in that moment. It’s soft but urgent, gentle and clumsy. you rubbing your thumb over the tip of his cock is what causes him to pull away and gasp.

“g-gonna cum” he says desperately. you take this opportunity to finally guide him inside of you and neither of you can control yourselves anymore. you’ve never seen Xavier so frantic, his hair a mess all over his face and you do your best to shakily move it out of the way. you lean over and kiss all over his face as he thrusts into you hurriedly. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer. even though he said it before, you know this is a sign he’s close because xavier gets adorably clingy when he’s about to cum. your foreheads press together as xavier eagerly brings both of you closer to orgasm. the grinding, mixed with your proximity and sensitivity has you nearly wrecked. there’s still something almost affectionate about the way he fucks you, attentive to your reactions and trying to gage how close you are despite being almost over the edge himself.

Xavier has lost his control of this situation, but still finds himself saying “th- this is what you wanted huh pretty girl? s-still not g-gonna let you c-um until you beg me” you’d definitely laugh at him if you weren’t so close, the sight of him delirious with pleasure was unfortunately turning you on more than amusing you currently.

“please Xavi i n-need it- you f-feel so fu-fucking good baby” he can’t take much more of the way you sound and how you feel, finally being sent over the edge by you squeezing yourself around him. you’re surprised that he keeps going, so determined to make you cum that he does his best to ignore his own orgasm. watching his cheeks get impossibly redder and feeling his release deep in your cunt brings you fatally closer. Xavier can barely process a thought through his head, but still manages to be headstrong about your impending orgasm.

“you’re n-not gonna try to l-lie to me a-again, huh?” he barely manages to let out, shaking with over sensitivity.

“no xavi i promise, please!” a tortured moan escapes you and Xavier finally gives in to his pity of your current state, your tear-stained cheeks too much for him to handle.

“i’m sorry my love, you can cum now” he thrusts into you apologetically, quickening his pace so he can put you out of your “misery”. you finally do as he says, blacking out momentarily. Xavier holds you with concern and awe, his hand on your cheek wiping away your tears as you convulse. your nails leave long red streaks on his back as your eyes squeeze shut, missing the doting look Xavier has in his eyes. He checks on your limp form before reluctantly pulling away from you, finding a towel to wipe both of you. you finally lift your head, silently watching him clean you up.

Xavier can’t hold back the smile on his face at the sight of you “welcome back”

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #xavier x reader #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe fanfic #wednesday #xavier thorpe wednesday

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shoshiwrites · 3 months

Note

I shall join you in the trash can my dear. For Jo & Bucky from the NSFW prompts (because I am unhinged about this):

[ UNZIP ] sender unzips/unbuttons receiver’s dress/shirt - s l o w l y 🫠

Emaaaaa! Thank you so much for this prompt, and for entertaining my Jo/Bucky ramblings at any time of day. It means so much that you're in the trash can with me on board. This was......... supposed to be a smut prompt and we ended up with............3200 words of Scenes I Really Needed To Write For Them Actually, comma mildly spicy 🙈 Bucky Egan x War correspondent OC. Also on Ao3!

leading with my heart again

She’s read the same page three times.

The coffee’s drained, and the cup of tea, and maybe she ought to stop now, now that her hand is shaking a bit holding the pencil, from the caffeine or everything she hardly knows.

A hotel bar with a hole in it. When she blinks she can still see the smoke. A few stragglers at the end of the night. Even though the nights don’t end here, they haven’t for years. Local drinkers. Society usuals. A handful of correspondents. Al Stern, a friend of Marian’s. She’d broken out a fresh bottle of gin in his honor. Blanche Aurand, narrowly escaped from Marseilles, her photographer friend. Salim? Jo’s met them all.

You’re scared, she wants to say. Like it’s not her own self sitting here, the ticking of the clock and the tap of her foot, her toes in her shoes. She reaches up to fidget with the tiny gold hoop in her ear.

The bar is gone now, and so are they.

She hasn’t heard much by way of Thorpe Abbotts lately. She’s trying not to let that bother her.

If Kay were here, she'd tell her to sit up straight and quit looking like a gargoyle. If-

“Thought I’d find you here.”

His voice is a momentary shock, and still familiar, like a sun-drenched room. He leans against the bar, nods at the man polishing glasses to let him know about an order — the bartender who looks too similar to the last. If she closes her eyes, she sees a white jacket covered in brick-dust, or blood.

She smells the major’s aftershave, through the smoke of the bar and the bitter coffee.

He dips his head, an explanation to what she imagines is her still-bewildered face. “Rang your office.”

She really does try to sit up straight, now. Suddenly ashamed, or something like it, of herself next to his freshly-cleaned uniform. Her slacks with a broken crease, a blouse with a wrinkle or two. Her hair’s a mess, or feels like it. “Oh.”

She blinks again, sees that he’s holding a metal tin in his hand — barley sweets, nestled in waxed paper — and a small bunch of torn green stems attached to white-petaled flowers.

“No cherry,” he says. He looks fondly annoyed, almost. “I told them a few packs of smokes oughta change their tune, but I think they were really out.”

He surveys the space in front of her, the rings of coffee and the scattered pages and the folded newspaper, the front splash of the dead. Her people, his people, their people. Everyone belonging to someone. She hears him clear his throat. Like he already knows the answer to the question, the one he doesn’t ask. Did you know them? Yes.

The barkeep’s looking at the two of them expectantly. “What can I get for you?”

She replaces the cup on its saucer, places the little spoon next to it and slides the whole operation towards him. “I’m alright, thanks, Louie.”

The major orders a whiskey, doesn’t let her put it on her tab. He’s not too insulted about it though, he knows her. The question’s silent again, when he’s got his glass, the nod of his chin. Who’re we drinking to tonight?

But she knows now, she knows you don’t ask. His eyes are dark here, in the fading light. The mask-marks, the circles under his eyes. The stray curl always out of place.

“So,” he says, gathering himself, setting the glass back on the bar with a dull thud. “How much time do you need?”

“Time?”

“To get all…” he gestures with his hand. “Unless you’d rather we sit around here all night.”

She taps her fingers on the bar, watches her watch and chain catch the light. Looks up at Major Egan standing there, wondering just how much Kay will kill her if she walks back out of this hotel in a plain black dress. “Depends if you like a girl’s hair with only a few knots or none.”

He makes a noise of dismissal. “I hope Kay won’t be too sore about me whisking you away.”

A remark about Captain Demarco takes shape on her tongue, but she swallows it. “Make it twenty, but I’ll be quick.”

Upstairs, she does what she can with her curls, washes her face and tries to shape her brows, reapplies her lipstick. The deep cherry color is hardly forgiving, and she has to concentrate to be careful enough with the lines of her cupid’s bow. For a brief moment she thinks of it smudged, on her teeth, on his mouth.

The dress she’d brought over is indeed black, cocktail-length, collared, with a little piped pocket, a bit of detailing. Maybe it’s a little dated, she’ll acknowledge that, but she’s tried to keep it tailored to the current style, fitted, hemmed shorter. Kay would try to send her out in something bright, rose-colored or teal, never mind that it’s October in London. She admires Kay’s boldness. Loves it, in fact, but it’s not for her.

The bracelet stays, the watch, her earrings, her mother’s medallion beneath the collar of the dress. Heels with thin ties wrapped ‘round her ankles, and her coat.

Hastily, she’d put the flowers in an empty bottle of Fernet-Branca, figuring Kay wouldn’t mind. He’d had less of an explanation for them than the tin of sweets, something about passing them on his way, something like a boyish smile. Just as quickly she plucks one, laces it into the back of her updo. It’s already been cut, anyway. She wonders where he’d got them, wonders if she’ll ask. She remembers the florist down the street from her apartment in Philadelphia, the spring flowers outside Pittsburgh. She can’t see it, but he will, standing above her.

Back down in the lobby, the tips of her fingers brush his shoulder at the low armchair, the last of his drink still in front of him.

“Now, aren’t you a sight.” It’s not the same voice as usual — quieter. Like he’s drinking her in, like the whiskey at the bottom of the glass. “Too pretty to be out with me, that’s for damn sure.”

She smiles, and she doesn’t even have to try, sure that her cheeks are a little pink. “Kay won’t be sore about me leaving, but she might have my head about this dress.”

He looks truly confused. “Why?”

Her hand gestures without thinking at the simple sweep of the skirt; she’s suddenly very aware of her legs. “Too boring.”

He makes a face. “Hell with that.” A small sniff, as he reconsiders. “Sorry.”

For the first time, she laughs. “I won’t tell her you said that.”

“Tell her whatever you want, you still look too good to be true.”

Now she’s really blushing. “A sight for sore eyes, huh?” The pendant rests in the dip of her collarbone, beneath the neckline of her dress. She feels it, feels the clasp at the back of her neck and the chain.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He stands, taking the glass, polishes the last sip of his drink.

She lets herself put a hand on his jacket. “Let me buy your next one?”

He reaches for her hand, for her wrist under the sleeve of her coat. “Now, I’ll have no more of that talk, Josephine.”

The streets are dark outside, an excuse to stay close to him. A door materializes, a small place with small tables, glowing candles and bottles of liquor and wine. It’s all very respectable, the twirl they take around the floor, and then the next, his hands at her waist, hers up around his neck. A bead of sweat works its way down the back of her neck, between her shoulderblades. He dips his head to ask if she’d like to sit, his temple damp and tacky before her mouth, in the warm room. They do, after another dance, sit and watch the couples sway from a table on the side, listen to the jukebox. I need no soft lights to enchant me-

She lets him buy her one drink, and then two, the dark rum color catching the candlelight at the bottom of the glass. She doesn’t feel under watch here like she does at the base. Though, there’d been plenty of moments there that maybe they shouldn’t have been allowed. They. She doesn’t know what that means, here in this war. You dance one night and find an empty space the next. Or someone else. His ankle nestles against hers under the table. She wants to kiss him.

What’s stopping her?

His eyes are so blue, and she knows she’s staring. “Got something for you. If- if you want it.” It snaps her out of it a moment, her brow furrowing as he reaches into his pocket. A small gold pin in his palm, the Air Corps insignia. The kind he wears on his collar. “Since I made off with that scarf of yours.”

The white one, he means, with flowers and Swiss dots. She’d worn it up. He’d taken it as a joke afterwards, smiling, a crack about it being prettier than the one he’d got, but not as pretty as Major Cleven’s. Buck’s. A joke, or so she’d thought. Her mistake to think a pilot’s lucky charms weren’t the most deadly serious things of all. She knows, now. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to think he meant it.

She could wear it, here in London. His pin. A person would know she had someone. Someone. She doesn’t know how to explain him, for all her words. Brave, like all of them. Brave and funny and flirting, the fiery death or the pretty girl. A heart she wants to curl up inside of. And he’s here in front of her, fidgeting, waiting for her to say something. Here, hands and shoulders and knees. It hurts to think of anything else. She would know who she had.

“See,” she says softly, meeting his eyes. She feels like a schoolgirl, watching him. “Knew what I was doing, wearing black and gold.” She reaches to touch his palm, about to take it and pin it on. He moves to do it himself, leaning forward. She shivers, the touch of his fingers at her throat, under the collar of her dress.

If you would only grant me the right-To hold you ever so tight-

Maybe it’s the light, or the drinks, or the music, or the fact that staying ten minutes past last call could have put her on the front page of that newspaper too. Every mission, the odds go down.

Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her, like he’s hoping she’ll ask him for something he can give.

He’s so close to her now. Maybe-

“Mmph-” He tastes like spice and alcohol, the sweat of his upper lip pressed to hers. He releases the pinch of fabric in his hands, the pin now fastened to her lapel. It hardly takes a second for his hands to find her jaw. His touch loosens the tension of her shoulders, sparks warm and firelit in her belly. She stays, lets the kiss grow sloppier until her tongue is pressing against his teeth.

They only stop because she needs a second to catch her breath, to watch him smile at her like she’s somehow surprised him.

“Why are you smiling?”

He doesn’t stop. “I’ll give you one guess, Josephine.”

She thinks better of a retort, lets her cheeks go red and leans forward again, a noisy kiss against his mouth.

A voice in the back of her head sounds a warning, something distorted, through the sound of the music and the smoky haze. The singer’s own shines through, the brassy big band music that always makes her think of him. There I go, leading with my heart again- She ought to head back to the hotel now, before the night calls for another bar, another drink or three, a bed. And there I go, acting not-so-smart again-

She stands, smooths her skirt, adjusts the soles of her feet inside her shoes. “One more spin?”

Something falls out of his eyes; he looks like he wants to argue with her, but he doesn’t. A few seconds before he answers. “Early morning?”

She nods, and it feels like the worst lie. Even though it isn’t, she’s got a briefing with the Ministry of Information tomorrow, and plans to meet another source for coffee. Probably more drinks, she thinks. It would hardly be the first time someone showed up for a meeting hungover.

But though it’s unwise, I can’t disguise my love-

Afterwards, they walk back out into the cold night, the smell of his aftershave still in her nose. He touches the flower at the back of her hair. “You got your last dance, can I get a last kiss?”

It surprises her, the forlorn note in her voice. “Where did I use the word last, Major?”

He sighs, or something like it. “Don’t have to, it’s written all over your face.”

Her fingertips find his lapels, the top of her head nuzzled under his chin. “I would hope I’m less readable than that.”

A laugh escapes him, though it’s hardly full of humor. “You’re really not.”

Like you, right? “A shitty pokerface, remember?”

“‘Cept this time it’s not about the coffee.”

“What’s it about, then?”

He doesn’t answer, leans down and kisses her and steadies her with his hands, what she imagines is her own lipstick tacky against the sides of her mouth. He doesn’t stop, and neither does she. His hand burrows between her coat and her dress, hugging her waist. She presses against it.

They should be walking, or ducked under an eave, not out here like this after dark. This corner.

Her back automatically straightens when they hear a bicyclist go past, a little huff from his lips and hers as she breaks away.

“I can still bring you back-” he says belatedly, “if-”

He’s offering her this. Maybe she can admit it to herself now, wanting it too much to refuse.

She shakes her head. “It’s alright, John.”

There’s something in his eyes at that, no Major, just John. “I’m glad.” His voice is heavy when he answers her. Low. His fingertips press against her waist. “I’ve been thinking about this damn dress all night.”

“The dress?”

He smiles, the scratch of his mustache against her cheek. “Alright, the zipper.” He laughs softly, what he imagines her face must look like in the dark, under the cloud-filled sky. “Just bein’ honest.”

Her mouth hovers at the corner of his jaw. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“What else do you expect?” Her chest feels like it’s full of butterflies, when he asks.

“That…you won’t stop talking.” She kisses the spot under his ear. “Please.”

He snorts. Maybe she’s imagining it, the slightest breathiness to his voice. “Now tell me what you really think of me, Josephine.”

Can I? she thinks. “Well, what do you expect?”

He pauses, considering. “That you’ll keep kissing me. Makin’ me blush.”

“I make you blush?”

“Like a tomato, Josephine. ‘Least it feels like it. One flash of those knees and-” She smacks him lightly across the lapel. “Hey.”

“I guess I told you not to stop talking.”

“Yes, you did. Now where was I-”

“My knees.”

“Right.”

A few more couples make their way outside, swirls of perfume and rum and sweat, almost bumping into them. She knows what she’s asking, now. “Maybe we should, uh-”

“Maybe you’re right.”

His hotel is closer, they’d walked by it on the way. She tries not to duck her head in the lobby. He kisses her on the landing of the stairs and again outside the door, forehead lingering against hers.

It’s a large room, larger than she expected, certainly not the little thing she and Kay share at the Highgate, the wallpaper peeling by the radiator. There’s not much of him here besides a bed that’s half-made, a garment bag by the front leg of the desk.

“It’s a nice room,” she says, trying to banish the wobble in her stomach.

He makes a noise that sounds almost like a laugh. “They know how to charge officers around here.”

“Still.” She reaches back to fidget with the clasp of her necklace. “I uh-”

“Something wrong?”

No. “It’s been-” She’s suddenly embarrassed, left ignorant as to how this is supposed to go. Not ignorant, just-

“Can I get you a drink? We could get something sent up.”

“No, thank you.” It’s probably too late, anyway. He takes off his jacket, drapes it over the back of the small chair at the desk. She takes a deep breath. “I suppose you should kiss me again.”

He smiles, deep and wolfish. “You suppose, huh?”

“Yes.” He does, lets her thread her fingers in his hair. “Suppose I should let you sit, too,” she says.

“However you want, sweetheart.”

She wants to slap herself for what comes out next. “Really?”

He looks at her like she’s a little bit crazy. His eyes are gleaming in the low light, dulled against the closed curtains. “You say jump, I say how high.”

She shakes her head before she can stop herself. Her voice is small, and wanting, and she feels suddenly like she’ll fall apart if he doesn’t keep holding her. “Please, just kiss me.”

Don’t make me think. Let me forget everything except you.

“Just say the word,” he says, but he’s already got his mouth on hers.

She’d stopped caring about her lipstick hours ago, and to hell with everything else now. She’s in his lap, here in a locked room, his hand high up her thigh and her own pressed on top of it.

Soon, her dress is around her hips, and he’s got his hands on the top of the zipper, stopping when it catches. He presses a sloppy kiss to her neck, the dip of her collarbone, exposed. She helps him open the rest of the dress, awkwardly, twisting an elbow. He stops, and looks at her with a hazy stare; two kisses, one above each breast, and one to St. Christopher between them. She undoes his tie, not quite an easy task when he’s lavishing kisses on her shoulders. Keeping his promise. She ought to, too. She presses her mouth to the freckles dotting his chest, and one for his crucifix, another for the medallion. Maybe, she thinks, they should use the rest of the bed.

“I’m glad I stopped by,” he says, quiet and rasping and a little bit breathless, his cheeks a shade of coral in the light.

“You found me,” she says, and it sounds like thank you.

He seems to consider this, his hands stilled under her dress. She can feel him, underneath her. It sends a rush of sparks through her chest, her stomach, her hips. “I did.”

“You did.”

I trust you, she wants to say. But she doesn’t, doesn’t know what to say next. Only brings a hand to his cheek, and his curls, only kisses him again.

#masters of the air oc #mota oc #bucky egan x oc #john egan x oc #rosies-riveters #i know there are typos in here i am SURE #my brain has been. an on fire garbage can for the past few weeks. i'm not entirely sure how this fill happened. but it did #and i'm very ! over them tbh #answered #jo's tag #motaverse #shoshi writes

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messrmoonyy · 1 year

Note

Tess catching reader touching herself? 🤭

Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader

Wc- 1k | 18+

Navigation | Tess Masterlist

Your fingers moved over the slick folds of your cunt with ease, almost struggling to find friction against your clit. Your eyes were clenched shut, focusing completely on the images flashing on the backs of your eyelids.

Her.

Tess.

You’d woken up feeling like an animal in heat, only to find to your utter dismay that Tess wasn’t home. You’d had a shitty night time shift in the loading bays, not returning home until the early hours and had slept the majority of the day. So it made sense she wasn’t there. She’d still be doing whatever assigned work she had pencilled in for the day.

But god did you wish she was home.

You needed her like you needed air, practically feral with the idea of her fingers replacing your own.

But she wasn’t there. So you had to make do. Had to settle for the memories of every other time she had her way with you. You knew what it felt like to be touched by her so well that you could almost feel the ghosts of her fingertips on your thighs if you thought about it hard enough.

You knew what every part of her body felt like against yours. How her lips felt against your neck, her fingers in your hair and on your face. Curled up inside of you or pinning your wrists above your head. You knew how her own soft skin felt sliding against your own.

You couldn’t even pick a particular memory to replay. Too many to choose. Too many bliss filled moments in time to sieve through and pull out a favourite. Nights and days spent coming apart on her fingers, on her strap, or the times where she refused to touch you at all and made you get off by grinding against her thigh. And there had been that one time with her boot…

You’d do anything for any of those moments to manifest themselves into reality right now.

But unfortunately they couldn’t. And all you had were the memories. And your fingers. Fingers that were moving quickly, desperate to find some relief from the almost suffocating tension in your body.

Your wrist was starting to ache but you didn’t care, you had one end goal. And that was coming with your girlfriends face on your mind. You were focussed. Determined. Desperate.

“ well. Was gonna ask you if you had fun whilst I was gone but… I can see you did “ you startled as Tess’ voice filtered into your ears, turning your head so quickly your neck cricked with the movement. She shed her jacket as she walked towards you, smirking slightly as she looked you up and down

“ Tess “ you couldn’t quite work out if the sigh of her name was out of embarrassment or pure and utter relief.

“ you know I could’ve been anybody right? I came in, locked the door and got half way over here and it wasn’t until I spoke that you knew I was here “ she said as she stood beside the bed, leaning over you and nudging her fingers under your chin “ so caught up in touching that pretty pussy weren’t you hmm? “ you practically melted under her gaze, muscles and bones turning to mush and pooling into the mattress beneath you “ well don’t stop on my account, I know that pretty face you were making. So close weren’t you? “

Words failed you for a few moments, too caught up in admiring her face above yours and the sultry tone of her voice. There was something about her voice. Maybe it was the low tones, the way she always spoke so slowly and precise. How every word felt almost… dangerous. You loved it.

“ yes “ you managed to whisper, mesmerised by her utterly.

“ then keep going “ you didn’t need telling twice, fingers returning to their previous motions as she moved to sit beside you on the bed. Watching, intently as your hand moved underneath the fabric of your sweats. Which she didn’t seem too pleased about “ such a shame to hide away” she mused and patted your hip lightly as she grabbed at the waistband, pulling your sweatpants and underwear off with a smile “ there we go. I know you’re not shy “

Her fingers grazed over the newly exposed skin of your legs as she went, her eyes hungry as she admired you in front of her. She moved up beside you, resting her elbow in the pillows beside your head to prop her up, ensure she still had a good view. Maybe you should’ve been embarrassed having her watch you like that. But you weren’t.

In fact quite the opposite. You let your legs fall apart, let her see the mess you had created just by thinking about her.

“ tell me what got you like this? “ she said softly, her spare hand ghosting lazily over the exposed skin of your stomach “ exactly. I want every detail “

So you told her. Every single thing you had been recounting. How it felt to have her fingers inside of you, her tongue on your clit. How it felt to have her teeth grazing over the skin of your neck or the sensitive buds of your nipples. You told her it all, watching her face carefully as you did so and trying your hardest to ignore the burning need to come.

Her eyes practically sparkled as she watched you, even more so when you couldn’t hold on any longer and let your orgasm flood your vein. Not even needing to exaggerate your movements or sounds because you knew she’d see right through that. You knew she knew you looked and sounded like. She’d see it often enough.

You went slack as the afterglow washed over you, the blissful warmth of your orgasm still thrumming in your blood, bones made of jelly. Tess made some small sound of approval, her fingers suddenly tracing over your hot skin lightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake, tracing down your arm to join your fingers that were still wet and sticky against your cunt.

“ now “ she said with another smirk “ let’s see how many more times you can make that pretty face for me “

#smutober round 3!#tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #the last of us #tlou #Anna torv #tlou hbo #tlou tess #smut #tess x reader

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angelsleepinggurl · 18 days

Text

𝐒𝟐:𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟓

═════ ◈ ═════

Your lips are knotted with each other’s. Tugging and pulling as the both of you kiss desperately. The both of you are standing in the doorway of Nanami’s home, inhaling each other. The sky’s darkened and the both of you needed a way to relieve each other’s stress, especially since working long after hours. Your teeth playfully tug at his lip, pulling them in the heated moment. With an affirming hand on your waist, he guides you into the room, kicking the door behind him shut. The both of you are floundering and wobbling through the main room and rushing up the stairs, no time to waste.

In the expanse of his, the both of you reconnect, all your parts fitting and locking together. His arm slithers around your waist again, his free hand on the back of your head as the both of you make your way towards his bed of plush. You’re on top of him, hands pulling on his tie, urging him to take it off.

“Oh my. I’m just so hot in all these clothes.” you say flirtatiously, fanning yourself for dramatic effect. The man beneath you rolls his eyes, his fingers reaching for the buttons of your blouse, undoing them one at a time. “I really wish I had these clothes off right now.” you say again, watching the blond roll his eyes.

“Your dirty talk is bad.” he says, sliding off your blouse for you. Revealing your breasts, beautifully held in a lace light blue bra. His favourite colour.

“Shut up and kiss me.” you order, leaning down and reattaching your lips, finding solace in his warmth. His hands find their way under your pencil skirt, getting a good squeeze of your ass, groaning into the kiss. Your skirt starts sliding furthering up your waist as it stops covering your ass.

One thing Nanami loves about you is how whiny you are, constantly whining when something starts to bother you or doesn’t go your way. “What’s wrong baby?” he asks, his lips still against yours.

“The fact you aren’t fuckin me yet.” you say in a hushed tone.

“Eager today aren’t we? Patience pricess.”

You’re irritated by his request, “I’ve been.” kiss, “patient” kiss “all day long.” you seal your complaint with a kiss.

“I’m sure you can be patient for a while longer,” he says, his thumb freely making way to your needy clit, circling them through your panties. His touch alone has you weak, your head drops on his chest as you feel yourself getting wetter. Your moans seem to be more teasing today as you moan in his ear, you’re doing something to him and he doesn’t know how. You’ve wiggled your pencil skirt off, perched on top of him, giving him the honours of peelings of your panties clad against your wet pussy, rolling your hips as you wait. His finger hooks around the band of your underwear before sliding them off, watching as you bite your lip in anticipation. Once off, the blond sits up and flips you on your back. Now you’re lying on the bed.

“Wait I wanted to ride.” you protest as he frames cages yours, he silences you by placing a soft kiss between your breasts, holding on in a free hand.

“You don’t need to do a thing, You just need to lay your pretty head down. M’kay?” He makes his way down to your puffy folds, taking a minute to absorb the sight again. It’s not something he’s a stranger to but each time he’s more and more entranced by it, observing as your slick arousal coats it, giving it a sheen. He takes his fingers and slowly plunges them into your fluttering hole. Your back arches when he curls his fingers deviously slow. He makes no rush and his slow pace is driving you crazy, he knows.

“Ken, I need it now.” you say, your hips rolling into a steady rhythm against his fingers. “Why are you teasing me?” He doesn’t respond, instead, he remains focused on his task, he made it seem as though it was more pleasurable for him, yet the second his lips connected to your clit you stop complaining. “Just like that.” you hiss, melting from the sensations.

He seems to be savouring your reaction more than anything, watching as you squirm, forcing a hand on your hip to keep you down, reeling when you moan out his name in that sweet, honeyed voice of yours. His pace has increased significantly by now and you're making a mess on his face by how much grinding you’re doing on it. “Ngh- fuck Ken.” your hands are in his hair, a thing he wasn’t that bothered about by now, though this time he’s been waiting for you to pull that movement.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” It’s surprising how fast he’s starting to make you come undone these days, he’s memorised all the best things for you and it shows. “Wait, slow down, I don’t wanna come.”

Something he doesn’t hear as instead he starts going faster. His tongue lapping over your erotic juices that seem to be shamelessly dripping and coating his thick fingers. His fingers move like magic, the way they seem to reach your G-spot, reaching them every time they curl. It’s not long until ropes of your hot come coat his face. He looks up at you with a lazy smirk, grateful he got what he wanted. After gathering it all he crawls back up to you, placing a kiss on your lips, you can almost feel him chuckle against it.

“Now can I ride? You got what you wanted.” you ask your hands feeling around his stomach, yet he just shakes his head. He starts unbuckling his belt until the faint sound of his doorbell ringing catches the both fo your attention. His attention is now torn between satisfying you and the door.

“They can wait.” you remind him, pulling his attention back to you. Until the door rings again.

“I’m sorry baby I’ve got a parcel arriving.” he says, leaving you with a quick kiss before rushing out of the room. The blond basically leaps down his stairs with how fast he reaches the landing.

“Delivery for Nanami Kento.” the delivery guy says, reading off his paper.

“Perfect timing you guys have.” Nanami mutters under his breath, signing the paper at the bottom.

“I’m sorry what was that?”

He takes a minute to tease, lightly pressing against your hole before finally pushing it in. You take a minute, letting you prepare before he starts moving. You start to wonder if you’ll ever get bored or used to his dick, because of the way his slow strokes are hitting, it’s making you wonder if his dick truly was made for you. You reach out your hand to him to hold during slow sex, but this time he refuses, which makes you surprised.

“Bad girls don’t get to hold my hand.�� he stops and pulls out. “Flip over.” he orders.

“What?”

“You heard me. Flip.” it takes minute for it to register with you before you end up on your hands and knees. A harsh smack on your ass makes you yelp., the burning sensation spreading through your cheek.

“Bad girls don’t get treated nice either. I told you to be patient and instead you wanted to act so demanding.” He says in a low tone in your ear, his hands smoothly running down your waist before smacking your cheeks harshly again. “I want you to count.”

Another slap is sent and you look back at him with puppy dog eyes, hoping he has some sympathy for you to go back to his gentler ways of before. Yet he doesn’t sway, another slap lets you know that he’s serious.

“One.”

Slap

“Two. Fuck.”

Slap.

“Three.”

This one is soothed by a comforted rub.

“Four.”

You resist the urge to wiggle, fearing that would piss him off again.

“Five.”

He uses both of his hands to rub away the sting left behind before sliding his tip up and down your now-drenched cunt.

“You naughty thing. Getting so wet from getting smacked.” Your face feels hot in embarrassment at his discovery. “You’re secret’s safe with me.” he says before finally putting it in, relieving your from your shame. You’re rocking your hips back at his thrusts, feeling the pleasure spread through you. Nanami holds onto your hips for support, watching as your pussy swallows his dick hungrily, taking all of it into your velvety walls.

“Kennn~” you mewl out, hands gripping a large chunk of the sheet beneath you. The call of his own name flips a switch inside of him, a witch in tempo and a flip in roughness. Before you know it, your head is being buried deep in those snowy covers as he pummels into you, knocking all sound out of you, all that comes out is a repetitive “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” every time his tip reaches your cervix. You feel yourself tightening around him, listening to the sounds of your wetness reverberate in the room.

“You finally getting what you wanted baby?” he asks, roughly pulling your hair. He’s never been so aggressive and rough with you and you’re loving it.

“Right there. Right there.” you plead, you’re reeling and your mind is blanking the only thought going through is how good he’s fucking you. Sounds of skin slapping and bed creaking fill the room, his headboard slamming and hitting against the wall behind it. The blond takes a free hand and slides it under, his fingers meeting your clit again and you’re screaming out. “M’ gonna come.”

Nanami uses this as a signal to go even faster, thrusting at an ungodly speed. You feel yourself tightening up and before you know it you’re releasing everywhere. You immediately collapse don't he bed, needing a moment to recollect and catch your breath. You feel the bed dip beside you as he lays next to you after chasing his own release. A careful hand, pulling your hair away from your face. “I hope I wasn’t too hard on you?” he says and you immediately shake your head.

“No I loved that. Do it again sometime.”

And he chuckles, “ I don’t know about that.”

The day dips into the night, and darkness wraps itself around you like a comforting blanket. You stand on his balcony, the air cool against your skin, tugging your hair back in gentle streams. Below, the city hums with life, streets awash in glowing lights that pulse and flicker like multicoloured veins. Above, the stars scatter across the sky like glitter tossed from a careless hand. Each sparkle, each shimmer, feels like it’s meant just for this moment. You’re wrapped in Nanami’s dress shirt, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin as you take it all in. The world is busy beneath you, but up here, you're content—peaceful, even. You sigh, elbows coming to rest on the railing as your eyes roam over the city. It’s beautiful.

Then your phone rings.

You glance down, a frown immediately tugging at your lips, annoyed at the interruption. For a moment, you debate ignoring it, letting the call go to voicemail, but curiosity wins out. You sigh again, this time less serene, and swipe to answer.

"Hello?" you snap, your tone sharp, irritation clear.

A low chuckle rumbles on the other end, unmistakably familiar. "Well, that’s no way to greet an old friend."

“Your dirty talk is bad.” he says, sliding off your blouse for you. Revealing your breasts, beautifully held in a lace light blue bra. His favourite colour.

“The fact you aren’t fuckin me yet.” you say in a hushed tone.

“Eager today aren’t we? Patience pricess.”

You’re irritated by his request, “I’ve been.” kiss, “patient” kiss “all day long.” you seal your complaint with a kiss.

“Wait I wanted to ride.” you protest as he frames cages yours, he silences you by placing a soft kiss between your breasts, holding on in a free hand.

“Now can I ride? You got what you wanted.” you ask your hands feeling around his stomach, yet he just shakes his head. He starts unbuckling his belt until the faint sound of his doorbell ringing catches both of your attention. His attention is now torn between satisfying you and the door.

“They can wait.” you remind him, pulling his attention back to you. Until the door rings again.

“Delivery for Nanami Kento.” the delivery guy says, reading off his paper.

“Perfect timing you guys have.” Nanami mutters under his breath, signing the paper at the bottom.

“I’m sorry what was that?”

“Bad girls don’t get to hold my hand.” he stops and pulls out. “Flip over.” he orders.

“What?”

“You heard me. Flip.” it takes a minute for it to register with you before you end up on your hands and knees. A harsh smack on your ass makes you yelp., the burning sensation spreading through your cheek.

“One.”

Slap

“Two. Fuck.”

Slap.

“Three.”

This one is soothed by a comforted rub.

“Four.”

You resist the urge to wiggle, fearing that would piss him off again.

“Five.”

He uses both of his hands to rub away the sting left behind before sliding his tip up and down your now-drenched cunt.

“You finally getting what you wanted baby?” he asks, roughly pulling your hair. He’s never been so aggressive and rough with you and you’re loving it.

“No I loved that. Do it again sometime.”

And he chuckles, “ I don’t know about that.”

Then your phone rings.

"Hello?" you snap, your tone sharp, irritation clear.

A low chuckle rumbles on the other end, unmistakably familiar. "Well, that’s no way to greet an old friend."

taglist: @kodzukenmaaa @markleeisdabestdrug

(please send a dm or comment on my the pinned blog to join.)

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

Text

Made for Him V

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, blood and gore, violence, death, grief, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Peter finds himself alone after the loss of those around him, so he decides to find a cure to his grief.

Characters: Peter Parker

Note: Hello again. Here’s hoping these headaches stop.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.

Love you all like Garfield loves lasagna. Take care. 💖

The Creator

Peter laid in the dark. Restless and angry.

The sounds of the ocean should’ve been soothing, but instead they kept him awake. She was beside him, his creation. She had been quiet since the beach. He stood behind her as she did her writing exercises and noticed how she paused often to chew on the pencil. Her letters were shaky that day and he had little praise to give her.

He cooked as she watched another movie. Something palatable; chicken and rice. She only ate the rice and coated it in mustard. He pondered maybe putting her under and trying to tweak a few things but worried for making it worse.

So he sighed as she lingered beside him on her side, where she slept every night. It was so strange to him how he could hardly hear her breathe; no snoring, not even a twitch. She was entirely still until he awoke. Sometimes, he wondered if she was even asleep.

He leaned his head back into the pillow and groaned, the linen tight across his hard dick. He needed release. It he hadn’t been so fucking amped up, they would’ve had fun at the beach but he couldn’t get rid of that persist pang deep in his gut. He gripped himself through the fabric and whimpered. He could do it then, try to get it out. Again.

He shuddered as he edged along the waistband, sucking in air as his chest rose in the moonlight. He slid his fingers down his pelvis and held in the breath, the warmth of his hand wrapping around his throbbing desire. He let out his lungs slowly and stroked, an uncontrolled murmur escaped him. He did it again and tensed.

He bared his teeth and pushed his hand down to cradle his swollen sac. God, he just needed to cum. Why couldn’t he just let it go? He closed his eyes and thought about her, about fucking her, and he snarled in frustration. He had to wait or he’d scare her. He knew that and he wasn’t going to do this all over again. He couldn’t.

He squeezed his dick and ran his hand up to the tip, toes curling as he growled and arched his back. He bent his legs, digging in his heels as he tried to ease the pressure. He felt that familiar ascent, the thrumming bulging of his pleasure, pulsing and pounding inside him. Just a bit more, almost–

He snarled as the climax once more eluded him, his forearm stiff and sore from his frantic pumping. He unfurled, laying flat as his hand remained trapped in the front of his pants. His lashes flicked up and he huffed.

The shadow beside him frightened him. “What do?”

She was sat up, watching him blankly. Even in the dark, he saw the curiosity in the tilt of her head.

“Precious,” he tore his hand from beneath the linen, “nothing.”

“Nothing?” She repeated in the way she did, “are hurt?”

“Am I hurt? No,” he bent his arm up above his head, “no.”

“Sound… like hurt.”

He watched her, her silhouette limned in the silver moonlight. Her hair grew wildly around the scars on her scalp, longer by the day, a sign of the time passed. She was so sweet and innocent but he was still mad. Still… needing.

“Actually,” he sat up and held back a wince as his dick bobbed, “I am hurt.”

“You… are?” She asked as she twiddled her fingers. “Can help?”

He dragged himself back to lean against the headboard, crushing a pillow behind him, “you… can. Only if you want to.”

She nodded and stretched her hands, thinking. She turned to face him completely, bending her legs, nearly bouncing in place. She was wide awake.

“I want help,” she insisted, “tell how.”

He lowered his chin. In that moment, he made a decision. How long could he wait? Had it not been long enough?

“Let me show you,” he hooked his thumb in the top of his pants and lifted his ass, his hand planted in the mattress as he shoved down the elastic. He dropped back down and pulled them over his erection, letting them roll around his thighs. She giggled.

“What that?” she pointed to his dick.

He didn’t answer. Not sure how to explain.

“It hurt?” She asked.

“Yes,” he answered, “it hurts.”

“Oh,” she uttered.

“Here,” he held out his hand, “you want to help, right?”

“Yes,” she answered.

She put her hand in his and he tugged her closer. She angled herself to sit against him as he raised his arm to stretch over her shoulders. He nestled her against him and guided her fingers around his throbbing length. She squeaked as she felt the vein bulge against her palm.

“Like this,” he led her hand up to the tip, “and down.”

As she slid down, he shivered and leaned back into the pillow. He groaned loud.

“Tight,” he squeezed her hand around him, “like that.”

“Like…” she repeated the motion as his hand hovered around hers, “that?”

“Oh, god, yes,” he puffed as he yanked his hand away and clasped a wrinkle in the bedsheets, “please.”

“It hurt?”

“Not as bad,” he could barely get the words out.

“More?”

“More.” He demanded as his head dropped back and clenched his jaw, “more, more.”

She moved her hand up and down and he hooked his arm around her. He turned to kiss the top of her head, his breath flowing out over her as he exhaled through his nose. His heart raced and the air burned in his chest as he panted. Faster and faster. Her grip was so tight, so fucking tight, he couldn’t hold back.

He came. Quick. Quicker than ever. A final release, long-awaited and painful. He spasmed as he emptied himself, his cum slickening her strokes as she didn’t let up. She only gasped as the sticky noise filled the dark. She didn’t slow or stop and he twitched as he finished, oversensitive and spent.

“Stop, stop,” he grabbed her wrist.

“Hurt?”

“No, not anymore, but… too much,” he slowly pulled her grasp away from him.

He wiggled her arm free and held up her slimy hand, “eek, mess.”

“Yes, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“What is it?” She asked as she was careful not to spread it.

He bit his lip. He should feel bad but he didn’t. He felt lighter. He felt relieved.

“Happiness,” he said.

“Happiness?” She repeated.

“Yes, when I’m happy, that’s what happens,” he moved across the bed, cum trickling along the crease of his thighs, “you made me happy.”

“I did?”

“Very,” he answered as he stood.

“Oh,” she got up awkwardly on the other side and her heavy feet stomped around, “I am happy too.”

“You are?” He turned on the light.

“Yes. If you happy, I happy,” she assured him, her eyes rounding as she got a look at him in the light, “it smaller.”

She pointed to his dick as it softened. He could have laughed. “Yes.”

“I don’t have,” she looked down and lifted her nightgown, revealing the fuschia panties below.

“No, you’re special.”

“I am?”

He smiled. Her grammar was getting better.

“Yes, you are.”

She smiled too and looked at her hand again. She held it out, fingers spread wide.

“Come on,” he waved her across the room “before you get it all over.”

The Creation

Peter wasn’t mad. That made you happy. You thought you were in trouble but not anymore.

You sat with him outside, on the deck he called it. The sun beat down as you used a crayon to draw uneven petals on a flower as he read a book. You couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. The way he kissed your head and the warmth of his… part. The way it felt in your hand and how your touch made him wiggle.

You switched and coloured in the flower with a bright pink. That was your favourite. You showed Peter the big puffy pink dress the good witch wore in The Wizard of Oz. He said it was pretty. You asked if you could have one. He didn’t say yes or no. You didn’t ask again.

You finished the green of the stem and lifted the pad to show Peter. He glanced over his book and gave it a thoughtful look, “very good.”

“I like flowers,” you announced, “do you?”

“Yeah, they’re nice,” he shut the book and placed it on the carved table, “do you want some flowers?”

“Can you get flowers?” You asked hopefully.

“Sure,” he said, “you deserve something pretty.”

“Oh, I do?”

“Of course.”

You looked out to the water, the distant blue line beyond the sand, “what if want to go to beach?”

He was quiet. You turned back to him and he leaned his chin in his hand. He frowned.

“You want to go back?”

“Yes?”

“Why?”

“Why?” You wrinkled your brow, “because pretty. Like you said.”

“Not yet,” he sat back and dropped his arm, “sorry.”

“Okay,” you tried not to look unhappy. “Can go inside?”

“Inside? Why?”

You were starting to feel strange. Like all his questions were piling on top of you, making it hard to breath.

“Watch movie.”

“Sure, I’ll come with you.”

“You come?” You pulled the cover of the sketchbook down.

“Yeah, I could watch something. Unless… you don’t want me to.”

“No, you come,” you replied as you stood and slid the crayons back into the box.

He watched you. You looked back at him and he tilted his head.

“What?” You asked.

“Here,” he stood and rounded the table to help you put away the crayons, “I’ll help.”

“I do,” you tried to pull away from him. “I can.”

“I know, but I’m… are you mad?”

“Mad? No. No, happy!” You told him the lie. It felt bad.

“Alright,” he accepted as he backed away, “but I could…make you happy, if you’re not.”

“Happy? I h– I am happy,” you corrected yourself.

His lips got thinner and he shook his head. He took the box of crayons from you and pointed to the chair. “Sit down,” he said.

“But movie–”

“I said sit.”

You blinked and obeyed. He was not happy anymore. As you lowered yourself, he got to his knees. You pushed yourself back in the chair, surprised and he clutched your knees in his hands. You felt a new sensation in your legs, a ripple on your thighs that tickled.

“What–”

“Remember how you made me happy?” He pushed up your skirt with his fingertips, dragging them up your thighs.

“Peter?” Your chest thudded like a storm, thunder behind your ears.

He said nothing as he bent and bunched your skirt higher. You squealed as he touched the front of your underwear. You tried to close your legs but he wouldn’t let you. He rubbed you through the fabric as your breath caught in your throat. You felt odd.

“Peter…” you gulped down his name as his finger swiped up and down, a swirling sensation gathering beneath his touch and you felt his breath along your thigh. You shook and whined as he pressed more firmly, a zap shooting up your back.

Is that what happiness felt like?

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #made for him #frankenstein #horror au #au #marvel #avengers #spider-man #mcu #series

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stinkyteenboyfeet16 · 1 year

Text

Stretched out across the floor of his bedroom, Kaz turned the page of the newest issue of Tecton. Oliver sat against Kaz's bed, eyes glued to an action-packed scene featuring Skylar Storm. Although he lapped into moments of complete focus, a little drool forming in the right corner of his mouth, every so often, he noticed Gus lying beside Kaz, his face near Kaz's socked feet. Aside from the fact that Oliver made Kaz put his shoes in a box so the smell wouldn't infect the entire room, every time he looked over, he thought that Gus had moved a little closer.

"Hey Gus, do you have a cold or something?" Oliver asked.

"No, but I have a huge stash of wadded up tissues under my bed that I've been collecting since I was eight.

"Why?"

"Well, when doctors announce that they actually need germs to cure an even bigger sickness than the common cold, guess who's going to have a lifetime supply of medicine?" Gus smiled and cocked his head.

"This guy right here."

"Okay." Oliver supposed he should have known better than to expect a logical answer from Gus. This was the guy that had five posters of the world's biggest plate of chili cheese fries in his room. Logic and Gus didn't match. "I'm just surprised your nose hasn't fallen off from lying so close to Kaz's feet."

"Hey, my mom washed these socks yesterday," Kaz said, looking down to check that he was in fact wearing clean socks.

And they were clean. Kaz's mom was a lifesaver. If it wasn't for her, the putrid stench of Kaz's unwashed clothes would probably be the most destructive force to the ozone layer. Still, clean socks or not, Oliver didn't think getting so close to Kaz's face wasn't a very wise, or safe, idea.

" like the smell," Gus said.

"What?" Oliver and Kaz asked. Gus had said some strange things over the years, but this might have been the strangest.

"I can't explain it, but I like Kaz's feet."

Kaz and Oliver looked at each other for a moment, before a grin spread across Kaz's face. Oliver rolled his eyes. He hoped this wouldn't go to his best friend's head, but from the way Kaz repositioned himself against the bed next to Oliver and spread out his legs, curling his toes in his socks, Oliver knew it was too late for that.

They went back to their comics, when Kaz felt something at his feet. He looked down and saw Gus hands on his left foot. Gus was touching, no, massaging his foot. Kaz had never gotten a foot massage-not even his mom would go near his feet that one time he broke his leg and had to wear a cast. If he had an itch on his foot, he just had to rub it against something, or hope that Oliver would use his device made of fifteen pencils taped together and scratch it for him. It felt good to have someone give him such attention.

Kaz tried not to pay too much attention to it at first, but he gradually began peeking over the cover of his Tecton comic more and more.

Gus started off by rubbing Kaz's socked foot, pressing his thumbs against spots that made Kaz squirm and sigh quietly. He gently squeezed each of Kaz's toes, smiling to himself when Kaz giggled at the touch of his little toe. Watching all of this unfold right before him, Oliver didn't know what to think. Part of him wondered if Kaz and Gus had gotten together to pull a prank on him or something. But from the look on Gus's face, the way his eyes widened and his mouth curved into a smile whenever he got a reaction out of Kaz, this was very real. Soon, Oliver was flipping through pages of his Skylar Storm comic without even reading them. He was far too absorbed in watching Gus and Kaz.

Kaz had all but stopped reading his comic, and had closed his eyes, focusing all his attention on Gus's hands. He felt fingers along his heel, between his toes, making him ticklish and making his heart start racing.

He wasn't sure what it was about getting his foot rubbed, but the whole situation was exciting.

And then Gus sniffed his sock, a full-on audible sniff that drew both Kaz and Oliver's attention. gross,"

"Dude,

Kaz whispered. It wasn't an insult or said with disgust. He was impressed that Gus had done that, which Gus picked up on, pushing his glasses up before taking another deep whiff.

If that wasn't enough, Gus leaned forward and tentatively pressed his tongue against Kaz's big toe.

Kaz gasped the first time, but became accustomed to the sensation when Gus did it a second and a third time, becoming progressively more bold with his tongue.

Oliver watched his friend run his tongue along the bottom of Kaz's foot, slowly, from the hell to Kaz's toes. Gus gave each toe a lick, before sucking on it slightly.

The way Gus moaned around each toe, massaging the sole while his tongue ran across each sock-covered toe had Kaz breathing heavy. He placed his Tecton comic over his crotch. He was hard. The idea of someone sucking on his toes and licking his feet had never crossed Kaz's mind, and in theory, it didn't seem remotely sexually arousing. But here he was, curling his toes into Gus's warm, inviting mouth, and rubbing his right thigh under the cover of his comic book. He had such little self-control as it was, and when he was hard, it was hard to think about anything else besides getting off. Oliver was right next to him, but his best friend would understand, wouldn't he?

His Skylar Storm comic completely forgotten, Oliver was caught between watching Gus suck on Kaz's toes, and Kaz rubbing his own thigh. Oliver wasn't sure why, but over the years, he had seen Kaz naked more than a couple times. Whether it was showering in the locker rooms to get into the local pools, or showering together after gym class, Oliver was no stranger to his best friend's naked body.

There was only one time when it was decidedly sexual, when Kaz initiated a "you show me yours, l'll show you mine." It was two years ago, and barely lasted a couple minutes after they pulled their pants down. Kaz was a little bigger than he was, a source of pride for his reckless friend, but Kaz's mom knocked on the bathroom door, asking what they were doing, so they pulled their pants up and continued on like nothing had ever happened. They had never talked about it, but he thought about it every so often.

Now, here he was rubbing himself right next to him.

Oliver gulped, starting to rub his own leg while watching Kaz.

Gus had slipped off the sock of Kaz's left foot and his nose and tongue explored every inch of his friend's bare foot. He looked up and saw Kaz and Oliver rubbing themselves through their jeans. He used his free hand to grab his own crotch, desperate to relieve a little pressure between his own legs.

It was all so arousing. The smell of Kaz's foot, the slightlv tang taste of his toes. the moans that were filling the room. Kaz's low ones contrasted Oliver's high-pitched ones, both contributing to the tremors of mini-orgasm that threatened to push Gus over the edge.

He stood up on his knees, keeping Kaz's foot in his mouth while he reached out to rub Oliver's socked foot as well. The smart boy looked up at Gus, momentarily shaken by the new attention, but nodded and allowed Gus to pull off his sock too.

It was one thing to watch Gus sucking on Kaz's foot, but another thing entirely to experience the pleasure for himself. A tongue worming its way between his toes wasn't as gross as he thought it would be, nor as ticklish. His toes were wet, moving against Kaz's. When he looked to his left, he saw Kaz openly rubbing his crotch, Tecton comic on his floor.

Kaz stretched his free foot forward and pressed it against Gus's chest. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he thought he needed to do something for Gus. He slid his foot lower and pressed it against Gus's crotch, making his friend moan around his and Oliver's toes.

Oliver followed Kaz's lead, and slid his free foot under Gus's shirt to rub against his chest.

It was a little awkward for Gus, toes in his mouth, Kaz's foot rubbing between his legs and against his dick, Oliver's foot rubbing up and down his chest, big toe occasionally pressing against a nipple. He closed his eyes, and felt one foot slip out of his mouth. By that time, he had learned to tell Kaz and Oliver's feet apart from the way they felt against his tongue. He focused his attention on sucking on Oliver's toes while Kaz's slid up to his nose. It was a sensory overload, feet touching him in so many places at once, that he couldn't hold back anymore.

Gus felt like every nerve ending on his body was on fire when he felt cum gushing from the tip of his dick, coating the inside of his briefs. Cum started trailing down his aching balls and the insides of his thighs.

"Woah," Kaz whispered as he watched Gus cum in his pants. Gus's entire body shook and he was left panting as he sunk to the ground. It was the hottest thing he had ever seen, even hotter than those + 18 fanfiction and fanart he had easily found on the internet.

Kaz couldn't get his pants and boxers off fast enough, not caring what Oliver thought. His pants and underwear still caught around his ankles, Kaz wrapped a hand around his dick and immediately began thrusting into his fist.

Without a second thought, Gus pushed Kaz's hand away and took his friend's hard length into his mouth.

Kaz had read enough fanfiction and seen enough videos on the internet to know that getting a blowjob was pleasurable, but the wet warmth of Gus's mouth was indescribable. And feeling Gus's surprisingly agile tongue against his dick, across the mushroom-shaped head oozing pre-cum, and his balls ready to be emptied of their cum.

Oliver unconsciously held his breath as he watched Gus blow Kaz. Everything was progressing so quickly, too quickly for him to rationalize what was happening.

Suddenly, he wanted Gus to blow him too, but he didn't want to interrupt the moment. Oliver had seen Kaz at his happiest, when he got to the comic book store to open the first unsealed new issue of Tecton, when his mom made double-fudged sundaes, but the slack-jawed, glassy-eyed look on his face and the goofy grin on his face let Oliver knew this was a pleasure unmatched by any before it.

Holding onto Gus's mop of brown hair, Kaz thrust into his friend's mouth, desperate to cum. When Gus started rolling his balls, Kaz lost it. His hips jutted off the floor and he arched his chest, orgasm racking through his body. He had never cum so hard in his life, the tin of his dick tingling as shot after shot of cum filled Gus's mouth.

When the first couple shots hit the back of his mouth, Gus was surprised. Unable to swallow it all, he pulled off so the last couple shots hit the frames of his glasses.

Kaz sighed and sunk deeper against his bed. He had never experienced anything like that in his life. He looked over at Oliver, whose mouth was hanging open, then back at Gus. Oliver missed whatever mental conversation his friends were sharing. Before he knew it, Kaz was pulling his shirt off, while Gus was yanking his jeans and boxers down.

"What are you guys doing? Are you crazy?" he shouted, his voice seeming to reach two octaves higher.

"I think we've known each other long enough for you to know the answer to that." Kaz nodded at Gus, and turned Oliver onto his side, lifting the smart boy's leg up so Gus could suck on Oliver's dick. Kaz scooted down so his face was right in front of Oliver's ass.

Deciding to just go with the flow, he leaned forward and began licking between his best friend's cheeks. He knew he didn't have to worry about Oliver being clean down there. It just seemed like the right thing to do, and he could probably get Oliver to loosen up a little.

The dual sensations of Gus sucking his dick, and Kaz licking his hole had Oliver shaking in excitement. He didn't know whether to thrust forward or rock his hips backward. His mind was spinning, especially when he felt something working its way into his butt: Kaz's finger.

"Dude, that feels really weird."

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"I don't know...keep going. But you better stop if it hurts too much " Kaz orinned and Oliver siched He really needed to find a way to resist that adorable stupid smile.

Gus was lapping at his balls, coating the round orbs in saliva while he stroked the length above them, paying particular attention to the flared head. Oliver felt his orgasm building, his dick throbbing when he felt two of Kaz's fingers press against a spot deep inside him.

'I'm really close," Oliver whined. He hoped that would be notice enough for Gus, but to his dismay, Gus pulled off and Kaz withdrew his fingers. Before he could complain, he was flipped onto his back and Kaz held his legs high in the air. There was something pressing against his hole, something bigger than Kaz's fingers.

Before he could say anything, Kaz pressed forward. His best friend's dick was inside him.

"Kaz!"

"Sorry, I couldn't help it. Does it hurt?"

"It did when you just shoved it up there! It's a very sensitive area.

"Sorry…but it feels really good inside of you if that makes you feel any better

"No, it doesn't make me feel any better." Oliver was about to tell Kaz to pull out, but there was that dumb cute grin again. He really needed some defense against that.

It took him a little while to get used to the sensation of Kaz filling him up. He didn't think he was going to be able to become fully accustomed to it at first, but when Kaz leaned down and kissed him, his focus was completely redirected.

I'm kissing Kaz. If it wasn't for the surprisingly soft lips pressing against his own, Oliver would have never believed it. It was mind-boggling how something as simple as a kiss seemed to push all the pain out ot the equation. Oliver couldn't make much sense of it, but nothing that happened this afternoon made much sense in the first place, so he closed his eyes and kissed Kaz back.

Neither Kaz nor Oliver knew what they were doing. In spite of Kaz's self-professed skills with the ladies, he had never kissed anyone. With his tongue rolling around Oliver's, both of them moaning into each other's mouths, he was glad that he could share that moment with Oliver. And he was even more confident that he would, as he suspected, be a great kisser.

Without breaking the kiss, Kaz began moving, rolling his hips forward and slow, long strokes, to make sure Oliver was used to the feeling. Soon, he was picking up speed, fucking his best friend. The sound of his balls slapping against Oliver's firm cheeks reverberating in his ears, Kaz pulled away from the kiss so he could catch his breath. This whole thing was a lot more exhausting than he expected, and he was just getting started.

Gus had been a spectator for the past couple minutes, mesmerized by the sight of his two friends. He watched Kaz's ass slam back and forth, a thin layer of sweat covering the two perfectly round cheeks. And with Oliver's toes curling above Kaz's shoulders, the sight was so hot, Gus thought he might cum again just from watching. But he didn't want to miss the chance to explore his friends' bodies even more.

He ripped off his clothes and record-time before he crawled behind Kaz. With one hand, he squeezed Kaz's cheeks, reveling in the firm cheek against his palm, and with the other, he reached around to jack Oliver off.

Maneuvering himself so he could suck on Oliver's toes, Gus pressed himself against Kaz's back, humping his best friend's ass in the process.

"I'm coming," Oliver practically shouted. Gus was stroking his dick, and Kaz grabbed his balls to add to the pleasure. Cum shot from Oliver's dick across his chest, his eyes rolling to the back of his head with each pulse of his dick.

Kaz came right after, thrusting forward as quickly as he could. Oliver's hole was milking his cock, squeezing his length with rapid repeating constrictions. Gus followed, cum spurting across Kaz's ass while Oliver's toes curled in his mouth.

When Kaz pulled out, Oliver felt his face turn red when cum began trickling from his hole. Kaz got some tissues and cleaned him up.

"I better get home," Gus said. "There's some stuff on my glasses, and if I don't use my special cleaning solution, it'll get smudged. See you guys later.

Gus changed and left Kaz's house like it was any other day. Oliver was still stunned, not really sure if what Gus had just said made any sense. He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt something against his face. He looked up and saw Kaz standing in front of him, his face pressed against his cheeks.

"Gross," he said, pushing Kaz's leg away.

"Come on, we just got proof that my feet are actually pretty nice. Some might even say sexy.

"Your 'some is Gus, and we both know how questionable his taste is

Kaz leaned down so his face was only inches away from Oliver, who was starting to blush from the close contact. His best friend was looking at him like he was studying his face. And the last thing Kaz did was study.

"Do you wanna go get some burgers or something?"

Kaz asked. "What?"

"I'm starving. It's pretty tiring, you know. So come on, let's get something to eat.

Oliver watched Kaz get dressed, and his question had been confirmed. Kaz was crazy. He was the weirdest guy Oliver had ever known, but he loved that about Kaz. He got dressed too, and they headed off to their favorite burger joint.

"And we'll have a milkshake," Kaz told the waiter. "And you can bring it in one big glass, and just give us two straws.

Oliver wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed, or flattered. Especially when they sat on opposite sides of their booth, and Kaz started playing footsie with him.

He was pretty sure he had settled on embarrassed when he started playing back. But like everything else with Kaz, he didn't think too much about it. He let himself enjoy it.

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even-if-in-another-time · 2 years

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listen. okay. i haven’t edited this since 2:36 am last night and i am half convinced that i just blacked out because i only have a vague recollection of writing this and it’s just “OH GOD SOPHIE WITH GLASSES” leave me alone. also keefe is she/they according to my only-slightly-consciousness so take that as you will

(@synonymroll648 this is your fault and you should feel bad /j/lh)

keefe didn’t pay attention to the leaping crystal they grabbed, just that it was warm and comforting around her neck. they laughed quietly when they materialized under a blue-petaled tree, the lights of havenfield cutting through the night and thin fog from the ocean off the cliffs. that tracks. she dropped the home crystal edaline had insisted on giving her from her palm, it falling to rest under their shirt. it should have been fine, but she was just tired as fuck and her father wouldn’t stop making snide comments and it was so completely and utterly fine but they just didn’t have the energy to deal with the world tonight, and apparently this was the one corner of it that was bearable.

they didn’t have any hesitation anymore about letting herself in the back door. “it’s called a home crystal for a reason, love,” edaline had told her with a smile when she had apologized for the umpteenth time. they didn’t start crying, and anyone claiming otherwise was lying, and maybe she stopped apologizing so much after that.

the light was still on under sophie’s door, because of course it was, at 12 am on a school night. keefe pushed it open. “hey, dumbass,” she announced blindly into the room. “you should be asleep.” (keefe was glad that she wasn’t, and would not be admitting that to anyone.) sophie was sitting on the ground next to her desk, spine pressed against the glass of her window and a book propped up on her knees, brow furrowed. the pencil in her hand was pressed up against the bridge of gold-rimmed glasses, and she looked up and the corner of her mouth lifted, and something in keefe melted just a bit. they crossed the room, wordlessly pushing sophie’s book to the side to settle their head in her lap, fingers immediately moving to run through their hair, and she exhaled. shoulders leaving their rigid stance. inhaled. sophie’s room smelled like her, like vanilla and matcha and something warm.

“talk?” sophie’s voice was unbearably soft. keefe shook her head, temple pressing against her knee.

“just this.” they closed their eyes. “just you,” they mumbled.

sophie hummed in response, lopsided grin apparent in her voice.

keefe felt the spine of her book resting back on the crown of their head, the sound of her pencil scribbling intermittently against it, and keefe didn’t know how she was supposed to deal with this enormity inside of her chest, didn’t know if their ribcage was built to hold this much without shattering. sophie’s carpet was soft against their back. maybe cracked ribs are worth trading for this, she thought nonsensically. they let the world slip away, let it fall into the darkness behind her eyelids and the imprint of gold-rimmed glasses in it.

———

the light around keefe was warm when they opened their eyes. the world around them felt like sophie. she was distantly aware that thought made no sense, and distantly couldn’t give any less fucks. she lifted her head up, pushing something heavy off their forehead, laughing when she realized it was sophie’s book, and the world came back in little pieces. sophie was slumped against the window above them, glasses slipping down the slope of her nose, lashes casting a long shadow across her cheekbones from the lamp on on her desk. the clock by her bed read 2:17 a.m. keefe sat up.

“soph, love.” her voice was quiet and rough. “come on, you need to get to bed.” sophie mumbled something incomprehensible, squeaking as she curled in on herself, and for a moment keefe had the overwhelming urge to savor this moment, to paint sophie and her auburn lashes in ink and write her down over and over on every canvas they could find.

keefe relented and scooped up sophie’s boneless form in her arms, sliding off her glasses and pushing a strand of hair off her forehead. sophie’s brows furrowed, and she tried to protest with something about studying, even as she melted into keefe. she grinned and walked across the room to lay sophie down on her bed, pulling a blanket over her. they turned to switch the light off, then sophie’s arm reached out and tugged on her wrist until she climbed under the covers alongside her.

“c‘mere,” sophie mumbled, curling herself into keefe’s chest. her hair smelled like coconut.

“keefe?”

“mm?”

“i love you.”

keefe wanted to say so much, wanted to scream and cry and never let go of this softness, never give it up. instead, she just wrapped her arms tighter around sophie, pressing her lips against her forehead. a fine replacement.

“love you too, sophie. love you so much.” she inhaled. matcha, vanilla, coconut. exhaled. warmth.

cracked ribs were fair trade for this.

#i am screaming and losing my mind at how unbearably dumb this fic is #i’m not even joking when i say i don’t remember writing this by the way #so i’m just gonna. throw this one to the rabid wolves that make up the kotlc fandom i guess #izzy tag #(I BLAME XEM)#sokeefe #sophie foster #keefe sencen #the genderfluid keefe agenda

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whispersafterdusk · 1 year

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Heart of Stone - ch 11

At an appropriate time Unsuur walked over to Dawn's and found her in her yard sitting at her workbench (the actual one and not the makeshift table, though he could see that one sitting over by her furnaces stacked high with ore, scrap, and bronze bars). A notebook, a few scattered pencils, and a considerable pile of copper screws were on the bench in front of her. Her left hand was resting on its side, fingers slightly curled, providing a back stop for the screws she was deftly flicking at her palm with her other hand two at a time until she reached ten, where she then used the back of her left hand to sweep them off the edge of the bench and down into a bucket at her feet.

He waited for her to reach ten before speaking. "Hey there." ((Continued below cut))

"Hello! One moment..." The next cluster of screws plunked down into the bucket; she fumbled for one of the pencils and scribbled something down on the notebook before standing. "Let me just grab something from inside then I'm ready to go."

Unsuur leaned against the fence to wait. He'd been varying levels of anxious all day -- an ever-present feeling like an insect buzzing around his head; now that the time was here he didn't feel too buzzy (thankfully) but there was something else mingling with it that he couldn't quite put his finger on...

Dawn came back out of the house with a rolled up bundle of something under an arm and her canteen hanging at her side from a shoulder strap. "Ok, ready -- where are we going?"

"It's not far. What's that?" he asked, looking at the bundle. It was thick fabric of some kind...a blanket?

"Something to sit on and, depending on how late we stay out, something to wrap up in if it gets too cold," she answered.

A blanket then. "Good thinking. The padding will help since the ground is pretty hard, and I only have one jacket with me." She laughed at that, wiping out the remaining nervousness with that oh-so-familiar warm feeling - maybe he wouldn't even need his jacket - leaving the other unnamed emotion just beneath the surface; it was a quiet enough feeling as to not be distracting (so far, anyway).

They headed along the tracks, down the path and across the wooden bridge, and over to a spot that he'd brushed clear earlier. Dawn unrolled the bundle and shook out one of the two quilts she'd brought, folding it in half and laying it out for them to sit on; the other she rolled back up and set behind her, and left the canteen sitting between them.

Unsuur scooted forward just enough to comfortably sit with his feet off the edge of the quilt; though he mentally acknowledged that it was already sitting on the ground, in the dirt, he still didn't want to muck the fabric up with his boots. "Did you get to talk to Matilda?"

"I did, and it actually went better than I'd expected. She's willing to let me purchase land on a sort of credit."

"That's good...right?"

With a happy little hum she slipped her boots off and set them to the side then pulled her knees up to her chest, crossing her arms across their top. "It is! I explained how I needed somewhere to assemble and store the trusses until the bridge base was ready and she said I could buy some of the land around the workshop and pay it off in installments, so once I get everything made I can start drawing up an addition to the house. Bare minimum I'm adding on a bedroom but I may also add on a room for my jewelry making. It'd be nice to keep extra dust and whatnot out of my tools, plus it would be more secure to store my materials and creations inside just in case a tourist gets any ideas. ...it's odd to think about, really -- er...the - the 'buying land' thing, not thievery. It's the most set-in-stone thing I've done since I ran away to school. --uh..."

As she spoke she'd been practically glowing in excitement and in the setting sun's light her hair and eyes shone brightly, and her grin was so wide and earnest and it sparked a bubbly happiness inside him too; he'd glanced away about halfway through so he'd stay focused on her words and keep from losing himself in that smile but as she stopped at the mention of 'ran away' his attention snapped back to her immediately.

"Um...forget I said that last part - I-I want to look forward to the future not retread the past. My contract here is only for three years but buying land feels, um, feels permanent, you know?" she stammered.

He thought back to the day he'd seen her on the train platform, when he'd thought she was already leaving. That had been before he'd gotten his crush on her or had any reason to consider builder contracts and the fact that they eventually ended - a worrisome thought, but, if she was going to own land here... "Were you not planning to stay beyond your contract?"

She plunked her chin down on her arm, staring out at the distant mountain and shielding her eyes with a hand. "Before today I don't think I would've had an answer to that. I've spent the last several years hardly able to plan out further than a month or a semester at most... Owning land and building something on it that's solely for me? That was..it was something that felt out of reach until now. Now I guess it's like saying, 'hey world, I'm here to stay.'"

Phew. "I'm glad you chose us. A lot of people don't like Sandrock but I'd say it's pretty much the same as anywhere else, just with more sand."

She snorted and started laughing, shifting to rest her cheek against her arm, facing him. "Have you traveled a lot?"

"I guess. It's more my family moves around a lot. I'm not actually sure where they are most of the time -- they send letters every month but by the time the letter reaches me and I write one back they've usually moved on. I've gotten a lot of my letters returned to me unable to be delivered but that's all right, so long as I keep getting theirs I know they're ok. They weren't too thrilled when I struck out on my own either -- I only ended up in Sandrock because I got lost in the desert while trying to walk to Atara."

"I can't imagine walking to Atara, from here or anywhere else... I thought the train ride took long enough," Dawn mused. "Why'd you choose to stay here?"

"When I arrived I saw the sheriff was hiring. Justice hired me on the spot and said one day, if I worked hard, I could make deputy. It seemed as good a dream as any. I've yet to be told how that's done though."

Something snuck into her smile then; it was a subtle change and he couldn't figure out what it meant. "Well... I think it's a good dream," she said softly, turning to gaze toward the mountains again. "And I'm positive you'll achieve it."

That did not help or give anything away about that smile but the encouragement was touching...seemed like it wouldn't be just his family who'd be proud of him if he made deputy and he felt a heat creeping into his face. "Thanks."

The sky was shifting to pinks and purples as the sun dipped almost below the horizon with the breeze starting to pick up as the air cooled; the stars would be visible soon and the moon would rise, bringing with them a new view to appreciate.

"You were right...this IS nice," Dawn murmured beside him, pulling his attention back to her. "Sandrock really is pretty."

Her eyes were still on the mountain; Unsuur admired how the remaining light turned her silhouette soft, like a painting -- she looked so serene and was so... "Yeah...really pretty." As the words left his mouth he felt his nerves stirring again.

Or...maybe it wasn't the anxiety coming back, exactly, but more a... Longing. Yeah, that might be a better way to describe it. Maybe this was his heart's way of telling him waiting was not the right answer, but then, was now the right time?

She let out a soft noise then, something between a sigh and a giggle, and reached to pull her boots back on; he forced his feelings down and took that as a sign she was ready to head back home and prepared to stand up, but after she'd tied the laces she used her hands to lift her backside up and slid further down on the quilt before laying flat on her back. Her upper half was on the fabric, her lower on the bare stone, and after a second or two she reached up to move the spare quilt further away from where her head lay (but still on the one they were sitting on) then slipped her hands behind her neck and stared up into the sky. "Back in Atara there was an observatory on the outskirts of town - it was technically part of the university's astronomy program - and it would allow non-student visitors on some evenings...never had the time to go myself but I'd hear about others getting to see shooting stars and sometimes Emile would bring me printed postcards of starscapes and whatnot. Wonder what they'd think of Sandrock's skies...the sky in Atara isn't nearly this clear."

"Sandrock has either clear skies or sandstorms, there's not much in between unless it rains and that doesn't happen very often." While speaking Unsuur stretched out too; it felt like he was closer to her physically now -- something about laying down felt a little more intimate, even though he hadn't actually moved any nearer or further away than when they'd been sitting up. Briefly he put his hands behind his neck too but they still hurt too much for that to be comfortable so he settled for resting his head on his uninjured forearm; his free hand drifted down beside him with his fingertips brushing against the canteen, and he pictured them slipping around Dawn's hand instead... They were close enough he could do that, if her hands weren't behind her head, and that feeling of longing grew a bit deeper.

"I'm actually curious what it looks like around here after it rains," she giggled. "Is it a lot of rain? Does it flood in town because the ground is so hard?" As she spoke she rolled up on her side toward him, scooting her hips back a bit to avoid laying on top of the canteen and bracing her elbow on the ground to prop herself up.

"I love the rain, and I think you will too. Every plant that can flower does and for a day or two everything is colorful and smells great. Also when it rains everyone collects as much of it as they can but even if they weren't doing that we don't get enough rainfall for flooding to be a concern." Her position change put her hand out of reach; he shifted to gently fold his hands across his stomach instead.

"Sounds wonderful..." she sighed. "That might be the only thing I miss about Highwind: the scenery."

"What about traveling back to visit?" he asked. "Does that friend that sends you the coffee still live in Highwind?"

She nodded. "Nia, and...while I'd like to visit her I doubt I will so long as she lives there still. I don't want to run into my family - I would honestly rather kiss a cactus than have to deal with them again."

"I can think of a lot of things I'd rather kiss than a cactus, and I don't think Fang would be too happy with you if you did. Cactus spines are hard to get out of your skin." Don't think about the kiss, don't think about kissing her...

She grinned and rolled onto her back again, throwing one arm over her eyes while the other patted toward a pocket; out of that pocket came the little pocket watch she carried, which she peeked at from behind her arm then sighed heavily. "I should probably get to bed early... Rocky has his crew sourcing steel scrap for me and once they locate enough of it I'll be able to actually start making the trusses. ...and I have all those screws and rivets to finish counting in the meantime," she added after a moment, tone sour.

He had to smile at the equally sour look on her face as she sat up. "Don't be intimidated, counting things is actually easy once you get the hang of it. I've discovered that one out of every thousand sand grains is white and shiny by counting them. I also tried counting blades of grass but there's so many, and I started forgetting which ones I'd already counted."

The sour look disappeared in a fit of giggles as she collected the canteen and spare quilt; after they were both back on their feet Unsuur picked up the other quilt, shook the dirt loose, and folded it loosely over an arm. Together they walked back the way they'd come, easily able to make their way by the moon above; under the moonlight Dawn's hair was more of a wine color and Unsuur caught himself wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through it. Probably a lot better than sand, and he bet it smelled nice, and--

You made it this long, don't let your brain run off on you now. "If there's anything I can help with, just ask. Even if it's just helping count things or keeping you company," he said, dropping his gaze to the quilt on his arm -- he could think about how blue it was, instead of red hair. "You're working to save Sandrock again and I don't want to stand around while you push yourself so hard a second time."

Her fingers brushed the entire length of his arm from elbow to fingertips as she took the quilt from him, and maybe he was imagining it but he thought she lingered a bit as their hands touched; between her touch and the night air hitting his skin he felt goosebumps forming. It was a nice, blue quilt...

"--hopefully," she was saying. "If I need extra muscle or fingers to count on I'll let you know."

Woops. He'd thought about the color blue a little too much and missed most of what she'd said; looking up from the quilt he met her gaze. She was smiling so tenderly at him...

"Sleep well," he said softly.

"You too. And, thank you for tonight. I wouldn't mind doing that again."

"Anytime you want. I know a LOT of great places."

Dawn closed her eyes for a moment, still smiling, then turned to head through her gate. "Guess you'll have to find time to show them all to me," she called over a shoulder.

That sent a little quiver through him and he sucked in his breath -- he was going to need to scout out as many nice, new places to sit as possible.

He waited until she'd gone inside before he started home; halfway there he'd shoved his hands into his pockets and found the folded up notice for the fireside meeting. Oops. Normally he didn't feel too bad about missing them from time to time but considering their bridge problem both he AND Dawn probably should've been there tonight. Not much they could do about it now as he could tell the square was empty and most of Sandrock's lights (aside from the saloon's) were already off. If there was anything really important he needed to know Justice would probably tell him.

(He'd had a way, way better time tonight anyway)

On a whim born out of knowing he wasn't tired enough to sleep just yet he kept walking passed the Corps building and his house and went down the tracks to have a look at what was left of Shonash Bridge from this side of the canyon. There were already signs of construction in place -- a few pallets of bricks, a pile of dirt filler, and most of the remaining track and the gravel under it had been pulled up and set aside. Unsuur let himself walk as far as the pallets before stopping and looking around; it was hard to believe the bridge was gone, and he could still hear the awful sound of it collapsing in his mind...that was going to take awhile to forget, if one could even forget something like that.

Pen hadn't found where the geeglers had run off to so Justice was operating under the assumption that they'd left this region of the Eufala; Unsuur certainly hoped so. They'd threatened and harmed enough people he cared about -- if he never saw one again he wouldn't shed any tears. ...and now he was thinking about how cool it had been when Dawn had walloped that one down in the Breach. She didn't like revolver and wasn't experienced with the sword but she'd handled that pickhammer like an extension of herself...maybe he should suggest some kind of hammer as her weapon of choice (he was thinking "weaponized pickhammer" but that seemed silly - it was already pretty deadly even if it wasn't considered a weapon). The only downside was Justice was way more experienced with hammers than Unsuur was so it would be better for him to provide the lessons. Still...he supposed Dawn being able to protect herself when he wasn't around was the goal so ultimately it shouldn't matter who taught her.

Unsuur turned to head back home and stumbled a little in the remaining loose gravel, his foot slipping down into an opening between the railroad ties; he managed to avoid twisting his ankle and once he'd regained his footing he used the side of his foot to shovel the gravel back into place -- once he'd gotten a sizeable pile into the gap he could stomp it down and hopefully prevent anyone else from tripping in this spot.

As he lifted his foot to start pressing the stones into place a glint caught his eye. Unsuur squatted and brushed his fingers across the gravel and then came back up with a...

Wow.

It fit in the palm of his hand and was amazingly smooth to the touch, and as he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away some of the dried dirt clinging to it he uncovered a shiny white luster with a few darker wisps of color threaded through it.

It was a rock, shaped like a heart.

It was perfect. He'd found it. He'd found it.

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

As soon as he got home he'd shown Wilson, then slept with the stone sitting on the nightstand beside his bed (beside his head?). When he woke he stretched and, in a break of routine, laid there on his side staring at it instead of immediately getting up.

When he finally did get out of bed he had to rush around a little bit to avoid being late to start his patrols but the sheer excitement of having finally found the perfect replacement for that dang heart knot propelled him through a shower and breakfast in record speed.

It's not holding me back anymore. That mental hurdle was completely gone -- replaced by a rush of anticipation. All he needed now was the right moment and that was something he could actually plan out ahead of time (though if he saw such a moment come prior to the plan then he could jump on it, and he'd still have something nice planned anyway! Win-win!)

The right moment would probably be some time after Dawn had finished her part of the bridge construction; Sandrock was counting on her again and she'd probably be tired and stressed throughout the whole process -- it didn't feel ideal to give her the stone heart in the middle of a crisis. He would support her in any way he could, plan out a relaxing evening of some kind (another sunset show? Or maybe dinner, on story night? She'd loved the former and had said before she wanted to attend the latter) and offer the heart to her then, and see what happened. There WAS the tiniest fear of rejection but...after everything so far Unsuur was pretty certain she liked him as much as he liked her; the fear was likely just a natural part of a crush - anyone would be afraid of taking such a leap...probably.

He practically glided through his morning and lunch time rolled around; aside from helping Elsie wrangle a yakmel that had tried to jump the fence his patrol had been uneventful. As he was heading up the steps to his house Justice came out of the Civil Corps building, spotted him, and waved him over.

"Anything to report?"

"Only a jumping yakmel," Unsuur answered.

Justice nodded. "Good... Not expecting too much trouble with the geeglers gone and the bridge out -- which means Sandrock can handle itself for a bit tomorrow morning. 9 o'clock sharp at Martle's Square I'm going to hold the Deputy Promotion Ceremony and I expect you there."

...deputy...promotion...ceremony? Really? Was it... "Right. I'll be there."

"See ya in the morning," Justice chuckled, heading off toward city hall.

Deputy promotion... Was he finally making dep-- hang on a second. Suddenly that unknowable smile last night made sense: Justice must have told Dawn first that he was going to name someone deputy. No wonder she was so certain he'd achieve it.

Man... Between finding the heart rock and now this, this was turning into the best week ever.

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

The next morning, just before 9, Unsuur headed toward the square. He had the rock heart in his pocket, partly for luck and partly just in case, and was pleased to see both Mi-an and Dawn standing at the base of the steps that led up into city hall. Justice was waiting at the top of the steps and as Unsuur walked up to stand beside Dawn he cleared his throat.

"Alright, now that everyone is here, let the official Civil Corps Deputy Promotion Ceremony begin!"

Movement in his periphery drew his attention down to Dawn, finding her smiling brightly up at him; when he returned the smile she gently nudged her shoulder against his arm then turned back to Justice.

"-Sandrock wouldn't be the safe and secure place it is here today!" Justice went on.

He'd missed the first bit during that little interaction so Unsuur tried to refocus on the speech -- it would be awfully embarrassing to miss having his name called.

"Nevertheless, there is still one who stands out among the rest... One whose tireless dedication to law and order has earned them the right to call themselves... Deputy of the Sandrock Civil Corps!"

On Dawn's other side Mi-an clasped her hands in front of her, almost wiggling in place as she whispered to Dawn "Wow! I don't know why but I'm really nervous all of a sudden! You don't think he's going to pick one of us, do you? I mean, I know we're just Builders but-"

Could a builder be a deputy? Would they even have the time to fill both roles? Sounded like a lot of work, plus neither of them were in the Civil Corps so he wasn't sure why Mi-an was worried.

"Now, heh heh, I don't mean to tantalize you all. I'm sure you're on the tip of your toes wondering who I've chosen to be my deputy, so without further ado: our next deputy is known not for brute strength but nimbleness! And wisdom!"

Interesting. Wise wasn't a word Unsuur (or anyone else) had ever used to describe himself. Maybe he'd been missing out.

"Our deputy brings a uniqueness to the team, and fills in the gaps in our Corps skill set with raw, individual talent."

Again he heard Mi-an whispering to Dawn, wondering if Justice was talking about her. Mi-an did seem pretty wise at times, but, again, not a Corps member.

"-with flowing black hair that shimmers in the sunlight as they dish out hearty, heaping helpings of justice with elegance and finesse!"

...not too sure about that one. Black hair didn't really seem shimmer material -- now, Dawn's coppery red? That sure did shimmer. It even shined. He glanced at it just to be sure and yep, it was bright and shimmery and he still wanted to run his fingers through it.

As Unsuur dragged his attention away from her hair and back to the sheriff Justice paused and raised a hand that held a brown leather hat with a deputy's star; Unsuur heard Mi-an suck in a loud breath, and again Dawn gently nudged herself against him.

"Let's give it up for our next deputy: Captain Caaaaaaat!"

...what.

"What the? The cat?!" Mi-an gasped.

Beside him Dawn had gone as still and stiff as a board, staring up at Justice with her mouth hanging open in shock.

Captain (he hadn't even noticed the cat's presence until now) hopped up the steps and Justice placed the hat on the feline's head. The cat meowed loudly, pawed the hat crooked, then sat and began grooming himself.

"Captain, or should I say Deputy Captain, has not only been diligent in patrol work, but this year's mice incidents have fallen to an all-time low. Yes, there really is no question that Captain is the most deserving of this title."

A cat. Had been made deputy. Over him. Suddenly, the week didn't seem like the best one ever. As he let his gaze drop to the ground he felt hands encircling his arm - one high on his bicep, one just above his wrist, and he looked up just enough to see Dawn's apologetic and worried look. "I thought I caught the most mice..." he said, trying to force a smile.

"One more time, a round of applause for our new deputy!"

"I'm so embarrassed! But congrats!" Mi-an mumbled. A breath later she turned to scurry away, rushing for the stairs to head back to her workshop, leaving Dawn and Unsuur standing together in the square.

Captain continued to groom himself as Justice walked down the steps over to them, settling a hand on Unsuur's shoulder opposite Dawn.

"Sorry pal. It just wasn't your time." Unsuur opened his mouth to say something but Justice's attention quickly moved from him to Dawn. "And you, Dawn -- sorry if I made it seem like I was gonna make you or Mi-an deputy. I wasn't trying to yank your chain or nothing but, you and Mi-an are honorary members of the Civil Corps regardless, and I thank you for all your current and future efforts toward the betterment of Sandrock and all its people."

Unsuur had fixed his gaze on a point on the wall over Justice's shoulder as he spoke; he could see, at the edge of his vision, Justice's smile falter then fade completely.

"Ahem, well, best get back to it. Good, uh, have a good day you two."

With that Justice quickly moved around them and headed back toward the Corps building (or at least that's what Unsuur assumed -- he was still looking ahead at the wall).

Lost out to Captain...he really wished he knew what he needed to know, or do, or be, to become deputy. What did Captain have that Unsuur didn't? What-

"How freaking dare he..." Dawn growled beside him.

He tore his eyes away from the wall. "It's ok. I'm happy my friend got promoted. Justice told me he pushed that button real good-"

"It is NOT ok!" she insisted, moving to stand in front of him. One hand remained on his arm and the other gently poked a finger into his chest. "YOU should have been made deputy, not a damned cat! I don't care how many mice he's caught, he's a cat! An intelligent one but he isn't even of the talking mutant variety! How could Justice do that...elevating a...a house cat over you?"

"Captain doesn't have a house but I think he likes sleeping in the sheriff's."

She let out an annoyed huff, tipping her face back to the sky a moment before looking back to Unsuur. "He's lucky I'm too short to properly strangle him... Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No, I skipped it today." Too excited to feel hungry before but now all he felt was disappointed. "Please don't strangle Justice - I'd feel awkward arresting you for assault."

"I wasn't being serious. ...mostly. Come on-"

He blinked as she took him by the hand and tugged him after her down the street; he was sort of aware of how his hand still hurt even in her gentle grasp.

But, she was holding his hand. VERY aware of that, and he marveled a bit at the size difference between their hands too.

...right, she was pulling him along. He should start walking with her so she wouldn't think he didn't want to go (and let's face it - he'd go anywhere she wanted to). "Where are we headed?" he asked, matching his stride to hers so she was beside him rather than partially in front of him.

"Blue Moon - I still want to beat Justice senseless with the dang hat he asked me to make but the least I can do for you is treat you to breakfast."

"You don't have to."

She shrugged with a smile. "I want to. -- un-unless you have to get on patrol?" At that she slowed to a stop just outside of Owen's front porch, looking up at him questioningly.

He did, but in this exact moment he didn't care. "Our new deputy can handle my route for now," Unsuur answered.

With a roll of her eyes Dawn laughed and started walking again, all the way to the saloon's front doors and then inside. There were unfamiliar faces at some of the tables - an unusual number of tourists considering the bridge was out, maybe they were from some of the surrounding villages instead - but there were two stools next to each other at the bar that were open so that's where Dawn headed, and it wasn't until they were sitting down that she dropped his hand.

They'd just settled in their seats when Owen came out of the kitchen with a plate in each hand and one each balanced on his forearms, and gave them both a nod to acknowledge he'd seen them before heading out to deliver the order; it had been awhile since Unsuur had been in here during the breakfast hours... Scrambled eggs sounded good, maybe with a little bowl of fruit.

(Something that wouldn't cost too much since he doubted he could talk Dawn out of paying for it).

Owen came back around the bar and paused to wipe his hands on a towel before heading over with an easy-going smile. "Hey you two - what can I get you?"

Unsuur gestured for Dawn to order first and Owen's attention shifted to her.

"Just a rice omelet, one pancake, and a glass of sand date milk, please," she answered.

Owen nodded and looked to Unsuur.

"Scrambled egg, and a small bowl of fruit salad."

"That'd be a half order of the fruit then. That all right?" Owen asked.

"That's fine. As long as it's not a lot."

Owen chuckled. "Noted. Drink?"

"Just water is fine."

"All right, be back shortly."

Unsuur watched him disappear back into the kitchen -- he hadn't seen Grace since they'd walked in so he assumed she was in there as well. Hopefully it'd be Owen making Dawn's omelet.

"Not much of a breakfast person?"

Dawn's question brought his gaze back around and he shifted on his stool to angle himself toward her. "Not really. I usually eat light in the mornings so the heat doesn't make me sick later." She looked less annoyed now, which was good. "It also takes less time and fewer dishes to cook a small meal. It's easier to clean up afterward."

She giggled. "I'm not a fan of dishes either but I do like cooking, despite how much I hated it starting out."

He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Because of your mother?"

"Yep," she replied, tone flat. "But at least cooking is a life skill anyone can and should learn. I hate HOW and WHY I was taught to cook but now I enjoy cooking for myself, and others."

"Is there any dish you like cooking the most?"

He could always tell when she was thinking about something -- that lower lip was between her teeth again. Owen came back with their orders before she'd answered; she made no move to pick up her fork and Unsuur wasn't in any hurry to eat either so he waited as well.

"I'd say...probably this rice porridge recipe that was my grandmother's," she answered then and a wistful smile crept across her face a breath afterward. Finally she reached for her fork and carefully cut into her omelet. "Any time I had to spend the night over at their house we'd have that for breakfast in the morning, and sometimes as dessert after dinner too. She taught me how to make it when I got old enough and it's always been a comfort dish. ...wonder what it'll taste like if I use yakmel milk in it, since that's the only milk I can get here."

Unsuur speared a piece of cantaloupe and popped it into his mouth as Dawn took her first bite of her omelet. His repertoire of recipes was pretty limited...a lot of soups, roasted vegetables, fruits, and he couldn't recall any specific family recipes -- he just ate whatever his parents cooked, and now that he was on his own he stuck to simple things. "It might not be as sweet since yakmel milk is pretty strong.

"Hmm, that's possible. Won't know until I try it I guess...want to be my taste tester?" she asked, flashing him a mischievous grin before taking another bite of omelet.

He could feel the weight of that rock heart in his pocket suddenly. "I'd love to."

She eyed him a moment; Unsuur didn't think his face was giving anything away, but hid himself behind his water glass just to be sure.

"Once I get the trusses done?" she went on.

He swallowed the water and paused to make sure he was composed. "Whenever you want - I'll make time."

With a little hum she went back to eating, and they ate in silence for awhile; he finished off his fruit quickly and purposely paced himself with his eggs so he wouldn't finish before she did. Thankfully focusing on his plate helped temper the rising tide of anticipation and warm fuzzies; that sneaky grin a moment ago had come close to tipping him over into 'give her the heart rock' territory -- maybe not the worst thing he could do right now but he couldn't let over-eagerness potentially ruin the moment.

A change of subject would help. "Has Rocky found the scrap you need?" he asked.

Dawn downed half her glass of the sand date milk before answering. "-not yet. This morning they dropped off what they'd managed to find that was of a high enough quality and I've got that smelting down into something usable, but I'm going to need way more of it."

Unsuur looked to her curiously. "I thought most of the Old World buildings were built with steel and iron?"

She nodded. "They are but not all of it is the right kind to use for this or in a good enough condition to be worth melting down, and there's some areas that were corroded or otherwise ruined by whatever happened in the Calamity. That sort of scrap would be fine for smaller projects but definitely not for a bridge."

That made sense. It would be like choosing the wrong size and shape rock for a stack -- one mistake and it'd all come tumbling down, and the bridge had already tumbled down once so they didn't need a repeat. "I'm sure he'll find what you need. His crew is pretty good at finding things."

"I plan to head down there and help them out after this," she giggled. "Or, well, I will once I've taken my fence down. Heidi will be out sometime later this afternoon to mark my new property boundary."

There it was again - that bright spark of life in her eyes he'd seen the other night when she'd first told him about buying land and building on it; it drew him in, made him smile. Dawn held his gaze for a moment then glanced down into her plate, cheeks going red.

"W-well, anyway, it's going to be a long week," she murmured. She pushed around the last bits of rice on her plate with her fork; the pancake was still untouched. "I hope yours will be less stressful than mine, with the geeglers gone now."

"It should be, though we ARE back to giving the bandit problem our full attention now - the desert is a really big place to search. I'll still get to see you on my patrols though." ...well, that had slipped out.

Laughing, Dawn set her fork down on her plate and nudged it away. "Is that your way of telling me to keep an eye out for you?"

With his face turning red all Unsuur could manage was a quiet 'heh' in response but luckily Owen came over - a timely, if likely unintended, rescue - and Dawn paid the bill, finished her drink, and stood up as Owen grabbed her dishes and headed for the kitchen again.

"I should probably get going, and I don't want you in trouble with Justice either," she sighed, then after a pause smiled gently at him. "I'll see you whenever you pass by."

He felt warm again, whew. "Be careful in the ruins."

She laughed and patted his shoulder as she headed for the door; Unsuur still had eggs on his plate but wasn't inclined to finish them with his stomach doing flips. Owen came back out of the kitchen as he was standing to go and reached out for him.

"Wait a second, Unsuur - got a moment?"

"Sure." Unsuur scooted his stool back in close to the bar and out of the way and waited for Owen to hurry back over.

"Could you come by the saloon later tonight, around dinnertime, and make a quick delivery for me?"

A delivery? "I can do that, but why?"

Owen leaned in toward him, lowering his voice. "With all the work Dawn and Mi-an are going to be putting in for our bridge I feel like the least I can do is keep them fed so they don't have to worry about cooking anything after a full day of work. You're always out that way anyhow -- I'll prepare a few dishes, you can deliver to Dawn and I'll take Mi-an hers."

"That's a good idea, and really nice of you." Plus, it'd give him a reason to stop by her place tonight, and however many nights Owen had something for him to take to her.

"Just trying to help in the only way I can," Owen chuckled. "I'll have it bagged and ready for you."

"Thanks. See ya."

He had to dodge around a small group of people coming in as he left; outside the heat was reaching its peak - the marginally less hot winter season would be here soon enough at least. As he turned to head toward Hammer Time and start his patrol route from there Unsuur slipped a hand into his pocket to rub this fingers over the stone heart...he'd slipped up slightly with that 'I'll get to see you' comment but she'd taken it well. That was encouraging, but he also didn't want anything else slipping out of him again (unless it was the right time - maybe another slip up WOULD be the right time? Who knew...)

Completing one full route put him back at his house and he headed inside and straight to his nightstand where he kept his notebook and pencil. The best way to avoid blurting anything else out again on accident would be to get it out of him first.

Dear Dawn,

Sorry I forgot to sign my last letter. I hope it didn't worry you.

I just wanted to tell you how impressed I was by how you handled those geeglers -- I hear you were very brave, and good with a gun even though you'd never held one before and don't like them.

You're a good builder, and now you're an honorary member of the Civil Corps, is that right? You'd be a very good deputy. Captain did a good job in there too I hear, and he's a good looking cat and all, but you would look way better in the hat.

Sorry, I kinda lied earlier in this letter. I didn't really forget to sign my first letter. I just didn't want to.

Unsuur paused and read it over a few times; short and simple, like the first one. He stood and folded it and went to get an envelope but then saw he didn't have one big enough to hold a letter and a rock of any kind...guess no opals or anything like that in this one. Hmm. If he included a little gift it would need to be...small, or at least fold-able. What did he have...

Oh, wait a moment.

He went over to his closet and threw the doors open, greeted by the sight of all his uniform jackets, spare shirts and pants, and a new pair of boots he'd been meaning to break in but hadn't gotten around to yet -- he didn't need the clothing or jackets at the moment but the boots were sitting on top of a box that held a small collection of belongings he'd never really found a place for. Shoving those aside he flipped the box's lid open and moved aside a few wayward rocks to pull a photo album out, brushing away dust and sand that had come off the rocks and carrying the book to his kitchen table.

It was full of landscape pictures that he'd bought from Arvio about three years ago now. All the colorful pictures and artful framing of Sandrock's vistas and rock formations had caught his eye, and while he suspected Arvio had slightly inflated the price he still purchased it and had kept it on his kitchen counter for awhile, until he'd accidentally knocked a cup of water over onto its cover; even though he'd immediately rushed to dry it off the cover in that spot had wrinkled and warped and, not wanting to risk ruining anything inside the book, he'd stored it away and only took it out periodically to thumb through it and admire the images.

He hunted through the pages for one particular picture: sand dunes painted brilliantly by the setting sun's light, and if he wasn't mistaken this was actually taken from the top of Mt. Rocksand. Dawn had loved the sunset; she was bound to love this and it would fit inside the envelope without him needing to fold it.

After he'd slipped the picture into the envelope he pulled the letter free and opened it flat on his table once more and quickly scribbled an addition to the bottom:

Here's a picture of sand dunes. Maybe you can hang it in your house or something. I'm not your boss or anything, though. You can do whatever you want with it.

He returned the letter to the envelope, sealed it, set his alarm so he wouldn't forget to do it later, and stuck the letter inside the photo album to hide it until tonight, then headed back outside; normally he'd head to the Corps building to see if Justice needed help with anything but since nothing had happened lately Unsuur headed out across the tracks and down near where he and Dawn had sat together to watch the sun set, gathering up rocks as he went. It felt like he was overdue for a nice, relaxing stacking session.

#Heart of Stone #HoS #Heart of Stone - ch 11 #mtas Unsuur #mtas Justice #mtas Owen #mtas Mi-an #My Time at Sandrock

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ausaplenty · 9 months

Text

Composition

Kiara's drawings of Lilian are usually done spur of the moment, from memory or in private, hidden away out of necessity.

Not this one.

Demon LiLi x Angel Kiara. Ineffable AU.

Kiarascuro was, first and foremost, an angel – stationed on Earth for millennia and a celestial being for eons before that.

But if she were to choose to be anything else, she would be an artist.

A brush felt more comfortable in her hands than a sword, though she had been crafted to wield a blade. She had healed many battle scars and wounds in her existence, but she kept the callouses that cushioned chisels.

And just as familiar to her as the tools of her trade were the lines of Lilian’s forms - could they be called lines? The term implied a certain hardness and rigidity, but those were not the words Kiara would use to describe the sinewy forms and movements that shaped her adversary.

Did Lilian know that she had been translated to every medium Kiara had ever practiced? Did she know that if archeologist dug far enough, they’d be baffled by cave drawings far more sophisticated than those crafted by their ancestors, painted by someone who could create paper and ink with a snap of her fingers but who itched to learn this bit of human ingenuity? Did she know that scholars would be confounded by the marble reliefs of Medusa’s twin, who lacked the serpentine tendrils but gazed haughtily at her audience with a single snake curled around her wrist?

Lilian had an inkling, though her estimate would be far off because it only counted the times she’d caught Kiara surreptitiously capturing the shapes of her pose – it would be low, because she didn’t know how long ago the angel had memorized the map of her face; the all-knowing gaze, the curl of her smirk, the jut of her chin.

Kiara had gotten bolder in the two years since Armageddon, no longer hiding the twitch of her hand when it itched for a pencil. Her art had gotten better, now that she was no longer forced to rely on memory to immortalize the gleam in Lilian’s sapphire eyes or the myriad of red threading through the demon’s hair.

Her fingers twitched now, caught in LiLi’s hand as they strode toward the Bentley and Kiara realized that for all her hidden works, none of them included the demon’s most prized possession. “Oh,” she breathed quietly, the potential forming easily in her mind.

“Forget something, angel?” her adversary teased, stopping alongside the blonde.

“More like trying to remember something,” the angel said as she pulled away to study the Bentley from another angle. “I’ve never drawn your car before.”

There was something … public about a drawing of the demon and her chariot, an openness that they had been denied for decades. It was outside, for all to see, no hiding behind the gallery’s four walls.

LiLi smirked. “Should I be jealous that my car is going to replace me as your muse?”

Kiara caressed the car, running her hand over the grill as if to commit the chrome texture to memory.

“Hmmmm? Oh, no, don’t be ridiculous, my dear – I’d include you in the painting as well,” she assured her before muttering under her breath. “Though how I’d pose you … Maybe with the door open, standing in the crux? No, no, too much focus on the Bentley. I believe, thinking about it, maybe leaning against the hood -”

She demonstrated, frowning slightly as she imagined the perspective.

“I can demonstrate,” Lilian suggested as the tether of their hands pulled apart.

The offer broke through the blonde’s concentration, her gray eyes wide. “My dear, no need to inconvenience yourself – I have plenty of practice, I can do it from imagination.”

The demon tutted, closing the distance between herself and the Bentley so she could perch where she imagined Kiara had envisioned. Her body bent, one leg outstretched as she positioned the other so her boot heel pressed against the fender and her torso slanted forward, her palms resting on the hood.

“Like this?” she asked.

The blonde’s lips parted slightly in rapt attention, her heart racing at the ease of Lilian’s pose.

“Could you – if you wouldn’t mind – put your hands in your pockets? But not fully, my dear, I can imagine you can’t fit them in entirely, with how tight those trousers are,” she coached, her hand flitting out to guide Lilian’s before she caught herself and the touch dropped away. “May I?”

The demon arched a brow in amusement. “You don’t even have to ask, angel.”

Kiara could feel her face flush at the easy assurance, an intimate phrase from a being so guarded. She lost herself in the process, her body tingling at their nearness.

(The final design was one of her favorites, Lilian’s fond and trusting gaze captured as she peered at Kiara over her glasses.)

#kiara scuro #lilian moros #Ineffable AU

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panandinpain0 · 2 years

Note

I would looove a second part to the Old D&D buddies with Munson. Maybe Ed and the reader meet up to talk about some of Eddie’s NPCs from the campaign? Sketching and fluff??

Sketches (Old D&D Buddies Part 2)

Part One

Requested by/people I want to @: @teplejtrouba @mistonk @bangfinch24

Eddie Munson x Male!Byers!Reader

Warnings: Swearing

I really hope this lives up to the first part, and I hope ya'll like it!

(also may or may not be restarting my other Eddie Munson series 👀)

Enjoy!

"Jonathan, (Y/N)?" Joyce shouted from down the hall.

"Yeah, Mom?" (Y/N) shouted back, Jonathan perking up from his spot on the couch in attention.

"Can one of you go pick up Will from school? I thought I'd be able to but I need to take this call!" Joyce shouted again.

Jonathan looked over the couch at (Y/N), waiting to see what he'd say. (Y/N) pulled his work bag over his shoulder and grabbed the keys from the table next to the door.

"I've got to run by work so I can pick him up and take him with me," (Y/N) responded, trying to be loud enough for her to hear.

"Thanks, honey!"

"No problem!"

Jonathan waved from his spot on the couch and (Y/N) smiled and nodded back.

"Bye Jonathan."

"Be safe."

"Always am." (Y/N) winked and left the house, getting into the car and making his way to the Hawkins High.

Driving up and slowly stopping behind some other parent's, (Y/N) rolled the windows down and turned up the music a little bit. He and Jonathan always did this when picking Will up as a sign that it wasn't their mom. Seeing as he had a little while, (Y/N) pulled out his sketchbook and pencil, adding some finishing touches to a character sketch he had made earlier.

It was one of Dustin's, and the character was a beefy Viking. As (Y/N) was making the thick curls under the helmet more dramatic, something knocked on the car roof right above him.

Jumping in fright, (Y/N) gasped and looked to the side with wide eyes. After seeing who it was he sighed and turned down the music a bit, turning back to the person.

"Hey, man. You scared the shit out of me," (Y/N) breathed out, laughing at it.

"I can see that!" Eddie nodded with a smirk, bending halfway to fit his arms and head through the window.

"What's up?" (Y/N) asked, tapping his pencil on the side of the paper in his lap.

"I saw you chillin' out here, thought I'd crash the party," Eddie explained, observing the interior of the car.

"Don't you have a few more minutes until school is out?" (Y/N) asked, checking his watch just to be sure.

"Yeah," Eddie confirmed, but he made no move to elaborate or walk away.

Raising an eyebrow at Eddie, (Y/N) let out an exasperated sigh.

"Well, come in, then." (Y/N) motioned to the passengers seat, soon to be Will's place.

Eddie smiled and bit his lip, walking around the car and sliding into the seat, playing with a piece of his hair. (Y/N) rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing his forearms. Eddie couldn't tear his eyes from the movement, mesmerized. He was finally knocked out of his daze when (Y/N) shifted to sit closer to Eddie, bringing the sketchbook into the gaze.

"How's this for Dustin's?" (Y/N) asked, showing Eddie the sketchbook.

"Woah!" Eddie gasped and took the sketchbook into his own hands, running his finger gently over the graphite lines.

"Will and I will color it in later, I just bought these new colored pencils that are so high quality. I'm going to surprise him with them later," (Y/N) explained, chewing at his lip and gesturing to take it back.

Eddie laughed nervously and handed it back.

"Sorry."

"Oh, don't be! Just, don't want any incidents like last time." (Y/N) laughed and nodded.

"About last time-"

"(Y/N)!" Will shouted, him and his friends waving to him. (Y/N) smiled and waved back, ducking his head down to see them all better.

"What were you saying?" (Y/N) asked as Eddie got out, allowing Will to climb in.

"Oh, nothing!" Eddie shrugged and smiled. "Hey, Byers-" both of them looked at Eddie- "if the other characters look like that I might just have to ask you to draw the NPC's too."

Will's eyes lit up and he smiled widely, "Thanks! (Y/N) did Dustin's and I'm working on Mike's right now. We have family night every Tuesday so we can work on it during that tonight, right?" Will turned to (Y/N) with that last question.

"Of course we can!" (Y/N) nodded and smiled at his brother and then Eddie. "We'll see you on Thursday, Eddie?"

Eddie's cheeks dusted pink, making him look at his feet and sway back a little.

"Of course. Bye, Byers'." He waved as the brother's drove off, Will basically buzzing as he listed off ideas to (Y/N).

Sighing, Eddie watched after the car, backpack still hung over his shoulder. Gareth came up behind him, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Man, you're just as smitten as Lorena is to Yorland," he teased, laughing at the reference he had made to their current love struck characters in the campaign.

Not responding, Eddie just let his smile grow, fiddling with the guitar pick around his neck.

End

Okay, this was short, but I'm going through a rut right now and wanted to get something for this done.

Hope it was okay?

I love coming up with fake campaign characters, I've gotta tell you-

-Author Max <3

#fluff #fanfiction #writer #x reader #reader insert #fandoms #oneshot #x male reader #stranger things #gay mlm #eddie x you #eddie munson x male!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson

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todoscript · 3 years

Text

how he would ask you out

request: pls some headcanons of how the boys (shinsou/tamaki/shouto) would ask the girl they like out 🥺

characters: shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k+ total, 900-1200 per character

tags: pining, confessions, fem!reader

author’s notes: sorry if this sounds rushed?? i can’t write

SHINSOU HITOSHI

two years after his enrollment into the hero course, shinsou had finally came to terms with the feelings he’s been holding for you for quite some time now.

what began as just friendly encounters and kind gestures felt like something more to him. after all, you were one of the key people that led him to transition smoothly into the class, with your helpful demeanor and coming to his aid whenever he was stressed and troubled by the new environment.

you went out of your way to organize study sessions and small arrangements to mingle and get to know the other students better.

you reiterated to him that if he ever had any questions about anything, he could always come to you.

initially, shinsou thought he was being a burden—that he was just heavy baggage that tied you down.

however, you assured he was anything but, and stated that you were more than happy to help him, even going to say you enjoyed spending time and getting to learn more about him.

at your response, shinsou was appalled at how genuine you were.

appalled… but also very grateful.

eventually, there came a point when he realized there was no mistaking the affection he felt for you—not when he subconsciously noted every one of your habits and intricacies, able to tell whatever emotions were running through you at a simple glance, or when he would stop to admire the way you decided to style your hair differently or changed your look, thinking you seemed even more charming that day by the confidence you exude.

no, at that point, he’s sure it was painfully obvious. so obvious, in fact, that kaminari and mina had chosen to skip today’s group study session in favor of letting the two of you have your “alone time”. whatever that could mean.

shinsou had grimaced over their excuse of “being too busy that day” when you had told him the reasoning they gave you over text, despite knowing their next exam was only a couple days away. recalling just how nosy and enthusiastic they could get when involved in these kinds of affairs, he had an inkling of what exactly those two were planning. you, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their schemes.

however, what did latch onto your mind was the thought of spending the day with only shinsou, in his very room, sitting across from each other with your textbooks open in front of you. though you should be more attentive to your studies, you couldn’t help the palpitations beating loudly in your chest and your wandering eyes that snuck glances at him after every question you answered.

unbeknownst to you, shinsou mirrored your actions all the same, reciprocating the flustered behavior, albeit a bit more subtly.

keep calm, hitoshi. why are you getting all worked up? he would say to himself, putting on his usual facade.

although he came off as relatively calm and collected on the outside, it’s difficult to keep his emotions in check when actions never lie.

that was especially true as he reached his hand out for the eraser you two were sharing between each other. with his eyes continuing to gander down at his notes, he hadn’t noticed that you were lunging for the same thing—not until your fingers had suddenly touched and you both pulled away at a speed equivalent to making contact with fire.

his stare unfaltering, shinsou was surprised to discern the embarrassed look on your face that immediately fixed itself as you rummaged through your pencil pouch. a second later, you pulled out another eraser, one that was notably smaller than the one you were sharing.

“um.. i’ll just use this,” you offered, and shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, the whole situation more awkward than it needed to be considering you never had any trouble sharing your supplies with each other before.

through some examination of your demeanor, shinsou had made a… bold enough claim, thinking that maybe—just maybe—you held the same kind of affections for him as he did for you.

it’s like he recalled earlier—actions never lie—and shinsou didn’t let the quiver of your lips or the intense concentration at your work to avoid meeting his gaze go past his head. that’s what spurred him to finally act on his desires.

without warning, he leaned forward on his seat to lay his hand over yours that caught your attention. you met his eyes, astonished to say the least, but more so concerned by how your eyes widened before you were about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong.

the violet-haired male beats you to your words, voice resonating firmly, “y/n.”

you blinked. “y-yeah..?”

“i know this might be a bit late coming from me, but,” you could feel his hand tighten atop yours, “after exams, do you want to catch a movie together? just the two of us?”

shinsou fought the urge to look away, bashful at how he made his declaration for your time. the warmth surging under his skin was alleviated at the smile that slowly curled on your lips as you rotate your wrist, your palm touching his. the expression washing over your features told him you’ve been waiting for him to ask you this for a while now.

“i’d love to.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI

ever a shy and introverted individual, tamaki has never had the heart to ask you out despite years of harboring a crush on you.

every time the thought had crossed his mind, he’d reason poorly with himself that you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.

it didn’t help that his low self-esteem only deepened that thought that had now rooted itself in his brain.

at such a prestigious school like u.a., you were bound to find someone far more compelling than him—someone with guts, confidence, and great social skills. not a guy like him who conjures the image of potatoes at every anxiety-inducing encounter he comes across.

he was relieved enough to settle himself comfortably as just your friend—a title that allowed him to stay close and keep within your circle, all the while subjecting him to simply admiring you from afar.

but his eyes that held a hidden longing for more weren’t overlooked by a fellow student of his. or to be precise, the ever curious and free-spirited, hadou nejire.

always aware of his surroundings, it was hard not to notice that peculiar stare she’d aim at him during moments where he might’ve just finished speaking to you, or when you’d pass by and his head would naturally drift in your direction.

it was like she was picking apart every detail laid on him and it made tamaki absolutely restless.

tamaki’s suspicions and anxiety were later raised during one instance at the lunch table. he was at his usual seat next to his other big three companions, mirio and the aforementioned nejire, who was eyeing him with a gleam in her eye.

even with his self-consciousness, tamaki did his best not to pay any mind to the undesired attention and munched on his plate of takoyaki—the octopus nestled in the batter sure to come in handy later in training that day.

to his dismay, you passed by their table with your tray of food in hand, and nejire did not waste any time calling you over in that cheery tone of hers.

she invited you to sit down with them. you gave her invitation some thought before ultimately placing yourself in the free spot next to mirio, with nejire and tamaki already seated across from you.

the girl was all smiles and hums while tamaki was in a state of distress, both at his friend’s odd behavior, which was starting to spell trouble, to having you pulled into all of this. mirio was just being mirio, welcoming as always.

you greeted everyone at the table, making eye contact with mirio and nejire, but tamaki evaded your line of sight. he simply waved his reply without breaking away from his balls of takoyaki.

luckily for him, you didn’t give his lack of words much thought and started digging into your own lunch. it was then that nejire found it appropriate to start up a conversation.

“y’know, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you this, from one girl to another,” she mused, finger waving around playfully, “are you interested in anyone here?”

upon hearing her question, tamaki almost choked on his bonito flakes, his cheeks puffed and eyes blown. meanwhile, your chewing slowed as you gave your answer some thought.

“uh… well–”

“i’d say fujita from class d is quite the looker! think you’d be interested in them?”

after swallowing the food in his mouth, tamaki began to subconsciously listen in on the conversation. he paid close attention to your responses with bated breath, a small part of him anticipating your answer highly.

“fujita’s nice and all, but i don’t think we’d really get along as a couple.”

tamaki mentally sighed, relief evident all over his face. it was then that mirio had started fitting the pieces together after watching his close friend’s brow wrinkle throughout the entire exchange before finally relaxing at your words. crossing his eyes with nejire’s only confirmed his suspicions as the girl sent him a wink.

as a friend, mirio wasn’t about to let nejire’s operations fall flat. getting up from his seat, he motioned tamaki to come with him.

“i heard they have extra yakisoba bread right now! we should go check it out!” he said as a guise to give the other two time to themselves, free from tamaki’s prying ears.

unaware that mirio had caught on so quickly, tamaki didn’t object to tagging along with him. mostly because he thought of this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and calm his racing heart, finally feeling the effects of the blood rushing to his face.

with tamaki supposedly out of earshot, nejire was free to go about her questions however she wanted.

“okay then, if not fujita, then who? there has to be someone, right?” the girl scooted further in her seat out of pure curiosity. “tell me, is it perhaps someone in our class?”

it was your turn to be stricken by her boldness. you tried picking at your food, stuffing it into your mouth to avoid answering, but nejire’s tenacity outmatched you.

finishing your lunch, you opened your mouth to speak, “actually, the person i’m interested in is pretty close to you…”

nejire feigned ignorance, innocently placing a finger under her chin. “who? mirio?”

“ah no, it’s tamaki, alright?!” you ended up blurting, voice hushed but frantic.

bingo. hearing exactly what she wanted, nejire returned to her original position, a triumphant grin plastered on her lips. replaying what you said out loud in your head, you buried your warm face in your hands.

unbeknownst to you, tamaki had ended up hearing the whole exchange around the corner coming back to their table as mirio lightly snickered at his revelation of an expression.

the blond patted his shoulder. “go on then, you know what to do.” he threw tamaki an encouraging thumbs-up.

the boy gulped in response before inhaling a deep breath of air to prepare himself for what would arguably be the most important yet stress-inducing moment of his life so far.

noticing you getting up to discard your tray, tamaki—through a final push from mirio—went to make his move.

hearing him suddenly call out to you, you were caught off-guard. after admitting to your crush on tamaki to nejire, you felt your cheeks get hot just seeing his face right afterward.

“oh hey, did you get your hands on those yakisoba breads?” you scraped up a way to start the conversation.

“right... that… mirio managed to get the last one in the cafeteria,” he answered. then he brought his hand to rub his elbow, fidgeting in his spot as he found it difficult to look you in the eyes again.

“tamaki? something wrong? are you upset that he got the last yakisoba bread?”

he shook his head. “no, i… it’s just… i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time now, but never had the courage to say it to you because i didn’t think you ever liked me that way. but…” he finally mustered the determination to face you head-on. “would you go out with me, y/n?”

at first, you were speechless—absent of words as you relayed his request in your mind over and over again. then, your eyes softened, lips easing into a smile as you reached out for his hand.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

it’s no surprise to many that when it came to asking someone out, todoroki didn’t exactly know the first thing to do.

mostly because he’s never asked anyone out to begin with.

you were the first person he’s ever felt these kinds of emotions for, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had been going through him when that root of infatuation had started to bloom inside him.

rather than sulk or contemplate on his thoughts for too long, he surmised it was best to simply come clean and ask for advice.

but when he confessed to what had been on his mind lately, he wasn’t expecting such a vigorous response from his friends.

“i’ve been thinking about asking y/n out.”

there was a layer of uncomfortable silence amongst the group before all hell eventually broke loose.

midoriya, uraraka, and iida immediately sprung from their seats in the common room, yelling “what?!” in unison. tsuyu and her frog-like mannerisms were more idle, but still surprised nonetheless.

todoroki was unfazed by their reactions, actually expecting it to go that way considering he’s never brought up any topics of that nature before. at the very least, he’s thankful he decided to say this when it was just the five of them. compared to what the whole class’s reaction would have been like, this was incredibly tame.

todoroki was used to always listening to what others had to say and never being the subject of the conversation when it came to dating.

but now things were different. he was openly admitting to them that he was regarding someone romantically. that he possibly sought a relationship with this someone—wanting to be committed to them and become the very best person he could be right next to them. to the four, this was coming completely out of left field.

after everyone simmered down and let the news sink in, the dual-haired boy resumed his thought,

“but i’m not sure how to do it.”

though the entirety of the group never had any experiences when it came to dating, they knew enough from media and pop culture to get an idea on how to help him. more than todoroki could imagine on his own anyway.

“i know! how about we go with the romantic and suave approach!” uraraka suggested. the rest asked her to elaborate.

“it’s simple! it starts by you leaving a note on her desk right before class, saying to meet you on the rooftop of the school! before the designated time, you should wait there for her with a bouquet of flowers, and then when she arrives, confess your feelings and ask her out!”

midoriya rubbed a finger against his cheek, skeptical. “i don’t think that sounds as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

tsuyu chimed in beside him. “those kinds of ideas usually only work well in books, ochako.”

pursing her lips, uraraka gave her plan a once-over, and realized it did seem a bit more involved and out of character than what todoroki was used to.

despite sharing a few more ideas with one another, they couldn’t narrow it down to any perfect one.

that was when iida clapped his hand, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“alright, i think we’re starting to blow this whole ‘operation’ way out of proportion,” he said.

“if you’re honest about the way you feel about her and show it sincerely, i’m sure she’ll consider your feelings. you don’t have to do anything extravagant when it comes to asking someone out.”

listening throughout every word, todoroki nodded. meanwhile the other three were astonished that their class representative could be so whimsical when it came to romance, which in turn, iida was conflicted by. however, at the very least he was glad they could help out a friend. and so, todoroki went about his day with their discussion in mind.

he found that in many occurrences, whenever he crossed by you and thought of it as a chance to ask you out, there would always be someone to come in and take your time away. leaving him to stand there awkwardly before dismissing the fated question for later.

eventually, the sky dimmed and evening arrived, and by then, the whole class was already back at their dormitory and about to have dinner.

through some rather convenient circumstances, you two were actually assigned on kitchen duty that night.

“it’s been getting pretty cold lately so i was thinking we should cook up a hot pot for everyone.” you gave your idea to him as you pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, waiting for his reply, but it came a few seconds later than you were expecting.

“right. sounds like a good idea,” todoroki answered a tad late. upon realizing it was only going to be the two of you making dinner tonight, his mind was occupied by what he and his friends spoke about earlier.

that was when he started overthinking the situation and absentmindedly half-assed his work.

“todoroki, the cut on the tofu is slightly uneven.” you reviewed his cutting board. looking down, he saw the inconsistent slices of tofu limp in front of him. if bakugou were the executive chef for the evening, he would’ve had to hear an earful from him.

“sorry…” he apologized quietly, reaching out for another cube of tofu to cut.

“is everything okay? i know you’re still learning how to cook, but i’ve seen you show some significant improvement on your knife skills recently.” you voiced your concern for him.

the white and red-haired boy stared at the white bean curd while hearing your worried tone and couldn’t find it within himself to continue the task. it was now or never he thought. he laid the knife flat on the cutting board.

“actually, i wanted to ask you something.” he turned toward you. “do you… want to go out with me?”

nothing but the sound of the fire running on the stove could be heard in the kitchen. todoroki didn’t move his eyes away from you, watching you nearly drop the plate of siu choy and shiitake mushrooms out of shock as your mouth was hanging open.

when you caught onto your bearings, you let out a small laugh. “oh… i… wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted honestly, placing the ingredients on the counter safely.

the boy furrowed his brows. “is that a no?”

“n-no! i mean that isn’t my answer! i–” you fumbled with your words, cheeks warming up now that his confession had finally sunk in. in the meantime, todoroki found your reaction quite amusing. the corner of his lip quirked into a grin.

“what i mean to say is that yes, i’d love to go out with you.” you accepted the offer wholeheartedly. todoroki would be lying if his heart wasn’t throbbing from anticipation. he’s glad he’s able to rest and put that aside.

“now let’s continue making this hot pot together!” you cheered, smiling widely and he found comfort in your words before resuming slicing the tofu.

#bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha headcanons #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #tamaki x reader #todoroki x reader #mha x reader #bnha scenarios #mha headcanons #shinsou hitoshi x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x y/n

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mimi-ya · 3 years

Text

appendage ~ trafalgar law x reader

1,400 words | f!reader | nsfw

masterlist

The prudish blush of his cheeks is amusing.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” You bat your eyelashes.

“(Y/N)-ya. I have to work to do.” Not meeting your stare and instead focusing on the texts in front of him.

It was the same type of excuse he gave every time to your pleading. The med bay needed sterilizing. He needed to check out the boiler. The sub entrance was leaking. There was always something.

“C’mon captain.” You press your body against his side, “I didn’t take you to be such a prude.” The hold on his pencil tightens, flush creeping down his neck, “Can you just do it once, for me?”

Law’s mouth drops when your warm breath tickles his ear, and it feels like you’re about to get the answer you’ve been looking for, but unfortunately a couple of idiots burst into the control room.

“What do you need help with Y/N?” Penguin asks.

“Nothing.” Law snaps.

“Don’t worry, captain! We’ll help if you’re too busy!” Shachi says, a bright smile on his face.

There’s a vein tensing on the side of Law’s neck, “No, you won’t.”

“We don’t mind, really!”

You grin, enjoying Law’s simmering anger, “That’s so sweet of you two, aren’t they just so helpful?” You turn to your captain.

But he doesn’t answer, instead slamming shut his book and storming out.

Law doesn’t come to dinner or leave his room for the rest of the night. It’s nothing new to the rest of the crew, but you wonder if you’ve pushed too far.

Making your way to his room, you knock on the door, and when there’s no answer, you quietly push open the door.

Law’s seated at his desk, fingers tapping against the metal. He seems to be deep in thought, not even moving when you come up behind him and place a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have kept pushing it, especially when you already said no.”

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” Surprise colors your voice.

“I said I’ll do it.” He looks at you over his shoulder, “But I’m in charge.”

You eagerly nod your head, excitement coursing through you. Not even waiting for another word, you jump onto the bed.

“Strip.” He commands, and you oblige, ripping off your jumpsuit and everything underneath until there’s not a stich of clothing left. Law’s eyes roam over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve, stretch, and mark like a man dying of thirst. He palms his cock through the fabric of his pants, relieving the tension building in his stomach.

Chewing on your thumb, you watch as he walks to the corner of the room, picking up Kikoku before turning back to you. He unbuttons his pants, pushing them down far enough just to release his heavy cock, that stands straight to attention.

The room is enveloped in a familiar blue, and with a quick slice, Law holds his dismembered cock in his hand. You jump to your knees, eager to get your hands on it.

Law’s eyes cut to yours, and with a growl asks, “Did I say you could move?” Your hand pauses halfway, and you shake your head with a pout, “Lay back down.”

Falling on your back, Law takes the opportunity to crawl in front of you. With his free hand, he gives a stinging slap to the side of your thigh, and you get the message to let your legs fall open.

He eyes your now exposed cunt, a finger coming up to swirl at the slick pooled, before trailing it up to rub at the little bundle of nerves that has you squirming.

“Law.” You whine, “I thought I was going to be the one playing.”

“Tch. Such a brat.” He snaps his fingers and motions for your hands, placing his most sensitive part in your grasp.

It’s a familiar weight in your hands, but completely different at the same time. You can’t help but immediately bring the cock to your mouth, a quick kiss and tease of the tongue over its slit.

Law exhales a harsh breath through his nose, and pinches the inside of your thigh, “I said I was in charge.”

“And I’m the one with your cock in their hand.” You shoot back, making him aware of the power you have over him, “Now go sit down.” Nodding at the chair across the room.

There’s a brief standoff, holding each other’s gaze, but Law resigns, with a mutter under his breath and finds his seat in the chair. You happily pull yourself up, so your back is leaning against the wall, legs still open so he has a complete view of the show you’re about to put on.

“You can still feel it?” You ask, one hand gripping the base of his cock, while the other thumbs around the top.

He gives a nod, hand gripping the arm of the chair as you rub his cock across your breasts. The tip circling your nipple, leaving behind a smear of precum.

“Huh,” You muse, “Didn’t know that would still happen.” You swipe a finger and bring the slick to your mouth, a familiar taste filling your sense.

Law grunts but doesn’t say anything else.

Trailing further down, you tease the head of his cock at your clit. It’s something he always does to torture you, but you seem to be enjoying it a little more than he is right now. Pleasure thrumming through your body.

Meanwhile, Law is wishing you would speed things up a bit. The slow trail you’ve been taking and the constant grip you have at the base of his cock has beads of sweat forming at his brow, heart palpating, and the lack of control is making him a little on edge.

Sliding his cock through you wet folds you let a moan escape your lips, “So good.” You sigh, as you continue to rub against his flesh.

“Get on with it already.” Law snaps. You crack an eye open and grin at the sight of his bouncing leg and clenched hands. It must be taking a lot out of him to let you be in control like this for so long, and you decide to take pity, hoping that the next time he can endure your teasing a little longer.

“This what you want?” You ask, circling his tip at your entrance, before slowly sliding in. The thickness stretching you out heavenly.

Law falls back against the chair once he’s fully seated inside, hips involuntary thrusting up but his body isn’t given the satisfaction he’s looking for when his cock remains unmoved in you.

You can feel it throbbing inside, probably from desperation for movement. So you slowly pull out, before harshly thrusting it back. It’s a pace you appreciate but know drives Law insane. And the sight before you is so worth it. The little fidgets coming from his body and how he has his eyes screwed shut. A giggle escapes you when he lets a deep moan slip and his hips jerk as you clench around him.

“Something funny, (Y/N)-ya?” He growls.

You just hum in answer, a smile playing on your lips as you concentrate on your own pleasure, finding a nice pace that has the coil in your stomach tightening.

“Touch yourself.” Law gasps, as he struggles to hold back his own climax.

Your free hand sneaks down to your clit, rubbing swift circles as you speed up the hand thrusting his cock in and out of you, pulsating around it when you feel it start to throb with release.

Law squirms in his chair, broken moans of your name falling from his lips, which sends you over the edge, waves of pleasure coursing through you along with the heat of his release filling you up.

The feeling is addicting, and you can’t stop the hand that moves his cock in and out of you, enjoying the aftershocks and craving more.

That is until you feel Law hovering above you, a tight grip on your wrist, “That’s enough.” He chokes out, labored breaths coming from him, accompanied by his heaving chest.

He pulls on your hand, sliding his softening cock out that has you both groaning at the sensation.

You miss the fullness and whine when you see Law reattaching himself before collapsing beside you.

“I can’t hold onto it a little longer?” You pout, curling into his side.

Law grunts, “You’ve had your fun, now just wait till it’s my turn.”

A smirk spreads across your lips, “That better be a promise.”

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