#it's not my job to pull those sticks out of their asses like c'mon

[leolithe]

ok i'm looking at my art folder and found a headshot lineup of every important Griftlands woman... it's 3/4 done but i think i stopped drawing at Arint because just looking at her face makes me stressed.

[toiletpudding]

HAZBIN HOTEL FANFIC

Adam x Lute ⚠️NSFW⚠️

I did it, I made a thing. 😀

Warnings: sex, a blow job, (light cock and ball torture here, Lute's a biter and Adam's into it,) swearing, Daddy kink, dirty talk, (it's Adam so, I mean, yeah) "What's a clitoris?" -The first man, small drug use mention, both of them are stoned, not much for plot, friends with benefits are what these guys are, Lute gets aroused at the idea of murdering things.

-She was bloodthirsty as fuck in that last episode you guys.

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Nothing to do but Fuck, Perform, and Kill:

"-and then the bitch has the nerve to call me a sexist asshole, me! I fuckin' LOVE women, they've got like, a bunch of hot holes to stick your dick into whenever you're bored, and I told her that and she..."

Lute inhaled the smoke from the bong, letting her mind wander as Adam continued to ramble on about his most recent fling. It had hardly been a day on Earth since they had found the body of one of their Exorcists. The idea that a hell spawn could kill one of her kind made her heavenly blood boil. She wanted to find whoever did it and pull their tongue out of their ass. Alas, Adam ordered her to wait, he'd said that in six months they would make sure this kind of thing never happened again. She knew he was right, and that they needed to be careful so that nobody caught on.

But fuuuuuuck was waiting boring. Lute was ready now, she wanted to charge down there and send every demon scurrying like bugs, to feel the excitement that only extermination brought these days. The adrenaline coursing through her golden veins as she pierced her victims' weak little bodies with her spear and listened to their pathetic screams.  Just thinking about it made her-

"Hey, Danger Tits." Lute turned, meeting her boss's scrutinizing gaze.

She straightened, clearing her throat, and ignoring the sudden heat in the pit of her belly. "Yes, Sir?"

"Are you listening?"

Lute nodded, "uh- yes sir, she gave you the bill for dinner."

"Yeah! Like, who the fuck do you think you are bitch, I'm fucking Adam. I shouldn't have to pay the bill-"

The extermination was one of the few things they had left for fun. And now not only was somebody trying to fight back, but Lucifer's brat wanted to redeem demons as a form of population control? It was fucking bullshit. Demons only deserved ,eternal damnation and death, and she deserved to have some fucking fun. The only thing they had left to do after building heaven was fucking, performing, and killing, and nobody was going to take even one of those pleasures away from her.

"Well? Are you gonna or not?" Lute blinked, registering that Adam's face was directly in front of hers. Fuck, the weed was making it hard to focus.

"Uuh, er...Y-yes?" She said, uncertain to what she'd just agreed to.

"Sweet." The large cushy sofa they were both sitting on creaked in protest as the huge angel sank back into it. Leaning against the armrest. He propped one foot up onto the cushion, and let the other rest on Lute's knees. He watched her expectantly, a shit eating grin on his face.

Lute stared at him, "What're you doing?"

Adam's smile dropped, "Pfft, is the pot making you stupid or something? You said you'd help me out."

"Help you with...?"

"The blue balls that dumb skank left me with, c'mon! I'm harder than a rock here! Put that thing down and show me a good time, bitch."

Lute gave him an annoyed look.

"You wouldn't have blue balls if you didn't pick one of heaven's residents"

"Well I thought she looked pretty fuckin' chill, how was I supposed to know she'd have a stick up her cunt...You gonna get my dick wet already or what?"

Lute rolled her eyes, oh well, there were worse things Lute could have said yes to, and it's not like she had anything else to do other than wait for extermination day.

Setting the bong aside Lute turned to Adam, who was smiling again.

"That's the spirit babe, now come to Daddy." A shuddering jolt goes through her, and something clenches in her belly.

Wordlessly, Lute crawled on top of the larger angel, straddling him and looking down. He was gazing up at her with the usual cocky smirk on his face, prominent as ever, even without his mask, "Well? You just gonna stare at me all night? I know I'm good looking as fuck, but c'mooon."

She could feel the eagerness underneath his robes pressing up against her, and through the way he was gripping her hips tightly, fingers kneading into her flesh.

Lute leaned down and pressed her lips against his. Adam returned the kiss, already trying to push his tongue into her mouth, and pulling her tightly against him. Lute's breath stuttered as his hands wandered up to her chest, roughly groping her breasts through her clothes.

"Fuckin nice," he mumbled against her lips, fingers finding her nipples through the fabric and tugging on them. Lute let out a small moan, encouraging him to continue.

She reached up, running her hands through the mess of brown tangles he called hair, forcing her fingers through whenever she felt resistance, enjoying the small grunts of pain he let out and how his groping became a little more erratic. Both of them were breathing hard when they broke the kiss.

"Fuck," Adam panted, rolling his erection into her hard enough that he nearly bucked Lute off. She gripped his shoulders to steady herself, pushing back against his rutting hips, enjoying the sensation of his clothed cock pressing into the heat between her legs.

Lute dipped her head, pressing her lips to the indents of his throat, suckling and biting, she clenched down on a particularly sensitive spot and tugged until his breath was hitching and he was squirming underneath her.

She let go after the skin was red and painful looking, pressing sloppy kisses up his neck and jaw, pulling him in again for another heated make-out session when she reached his lips.

The kiss didn't last long this time, before Adam was pulling away and whispering in her ear where else he wanted her mouth to be.

Never one to disobey an order Lute slid downward, positioning herself between his crossed legs. His erection was straining against his clothes now, ready to pop out like a jack in the box.

After an awkward struggle of shifting his robes out of the way, and with only a little help from Adam, Lute was finally able to pull his dick out from its confines. Despite being the self proclaimed "Dick master," his was relatively average, and only a little on the longer side. Nothing for Lute to complain about though.

Her hand was already sticky with cum, as it dribbled out of the tip of his cock in a steady trickle. Geez, he really was pent up.

Adam nudged her closer with his legs, "Come on come on come on! What're you waiting for bitch? It's not like it's gonna suck itsel- oooh, fuuuck yeeeah."

Without warning Lute took him into her mouth down to the base and held it there. Adam gripped the back of her head, clutching handfuls of her hair tight enough to yank a sizable clump right off of her scalp if he wanted to. His legs trembled and his feet scrabbled for purchase, heels digging into Lute's calves. Lute didn't move for a moment longer, seeing the First Man grovel underneath her always turned her on more than it probably should.

When his hips started twitching forward Lute began to slide her tongue up and down his length smoothly, the acrid and salty flavor of him coating her taste buds overwhelmed her senses completely.

Adam spat out a series of curses when Lute began to bob her head quickly, going down as far as she could until his mushroom cap bumped the back of her throat, and sucking hard when she came up to the tip. The brutal pace she set for him doesn't give Adam a chance to steady himself or even to make a snarky comment, he was completely at her mercy.

The fact that the most powerful Exorcist in heaven, who could incinerate her with a single finger gun pointed in her general direction, could barely even form a coherent word had her rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to give just a little bit of the pooling heat between her legs some attention.

"Don't fuckin stop Lute, don't stop," judging by the way he was thrusting his hips against her face and that his voice was high with excitement, Adam was already on the verge of blowing his load. Lute only moved faster and dragged her tongue across him more.

"Fuck, holy shit," Adam gasped, Lute could feel his hands shaking, "I'm gonna-fuck-" she stopped moving her head, letting him take control, and immediately he was cramming his dick into her mouth as much as he could, chasing after his orgasm, moaning with each thrust and-

And right when he was at his peak Lute bit down. His startled, pained scream was probably loud enough to be heard outside of the room.

"Fuckin, aaah, you crazy bitch. I was about to nut-fuck!" He pulled his dick out of her mouth to inspect it. Beneath the glistening spit and pre-cum covering his shaft, bright red bite marks indented his pale skin. When he saw them he began to laugh.

"Not yet," Lute rasped, she cleared her throat, "You're not done yet."

"Fuuuck," he laughed, "I didn't think I could get any harder, ow by the way."

"Serves you right, sir." Adam grinned darkly and pushed her hair out of her face.

"Do it again." Lute leaned forward and took his dick into her mouth again. His breathy sigh turned into a pain choke when her teeth clenched down, body as tense as a harp string. His hand tightened around the back of her skull. All it would take is one hard squeeze and he could easily crush her head into a pulp. The thought has her biting down a little bit harder.

When she let go Adam deflated underneath her, "You wanna get a facial?" He panted, "'Cause this is a great way to get a shiiiiiit!"

Lute clamped down on his cock again, her eyes on his face the whole time. Watching the way it twisted in pain and pleasure. She couldn't decide which she liked seeing more. Adam's lips were kiss-red and his eyes were closed and he looked absolutely exquisite. Albeit, It wasn't enough for Lute to grant him an easy finish. Not by a long shot.

She let go of his dick, and the moan that came out of him was like rock music to her ears. She crawled up on top of Adam once again; giving him an open-mouthed kiss. He kissed her back with less focus than before, like he was halfway out of his body.

Denied-orgasm Adam didn't last long, soon he was kissing Lute viscously, nipping at her lips hard enough to make her grunt in pain. "You know, you're supposed to help me with my blue balls, not make it worse." He grumbled against her lips.

Lute pulled back and looked him in the eye, both of their gazes were alight with desire. Eyes like glowing torches. "I've got something else for that." She made a show of sliding her fingers underneath the hem of her dress and down the front of her skin tight pants, watching him the entire time.

Adam's grin split across his face and he sat up. "Aw, fuck yes!" Somehow Lute ended up underneath him, a difficult feat when even a couch this size could barely fit Adam.

He reached up, tugging the dress's neckline down to get easier access to her tits. He fondled one of them, his other hand diving between their bodies to drag her pants down far enough that she could wiggle her legs out of them before groping at her crotch.

Lute shoved that hand away immediately. Beside math, the next thing Adam knew absolutely nothing about was the anatomy of a woman, and what Lute didn't need was to feel the stretch and burn as he stuffed his fingers inside of her dry.

Lute shoved that hand away immediately. Beside math, the next thing Adam knew absolutely nothing about was the anatomy of a woman, and the last thing Lute needed was to feel the stretch and burn as he stuffed his fingers inside of her dry.

Lute sucked on her index and middle finger briefly, just enough to get them dripping before sliding them underneath her clothes, nudging her undergarments to the side. Her fingers just barely brushed against her folds and already her breath was hitching. She focused on her clit instead, and it didn't take long before she was able to slide her fingers in with no resistance.

Adam grabbed at her chest while she quickly prepped herself, switching between massaging her breasts to pulling her nipples and twisting them until she moaned.

"Fuck, I love your tits, they're so fuckin soft. You like it when Daddy plays with'em like this, huh bitch?" His dirty talk only served to excite her even more, Lute curled her fingers inside and her thighs tensed.

Her breasts didn't hold Adam's attention long before he was pressing his cock forward, the head grinding against the back of her hand. Lute didn't need to be told twice. She withdrew her fingers and wrapped her legs around the other angel's hips as best she could. Adam sank down onto his elbows, and she was enveloped completely in his robes, her vision nothing but white and gold.

Her back arched as his dick prodded against her hole, before sliding up and brushing her clit. He thrusted, but missed again. "Fuckin-" Adam muttered to himself, reaching down to guide himself inside.

Lute's folds parted for his pole. Even after prepping herself the stretch still made her clit beg for reprieve. Lute's head dropped onto the sofa cushion.

" Oh, shit, " she hissed, words barely audible, as he slipped into her depths.

A strangled noise came from Adam's throat when he bottomed out inside of her, shudders racking his body as the sensation enveloped him. "Fuck, you could keep me warm all night like this," Adam breathed, cock twitching deep inside of her.

Lute jerked and moaned as his dick brushed against a spongy euphoric. It didn't take long before he was thrusting his hips, dragging his shaft out until only the tip remained inside and slamming back in in routine fashion. The way his veins felt, bulging along her inner walls was phenomenal.

She rolled her hips into his impatiently, wanting more, harder, faster. It wasn't until his mushroom cap snagged something particularly good that Lute let out an audible yelp.

Oh yeah, babe?" Adam jeered, aiming for that same spot. "Gonna gush on my cock? Bet it feels fuckin' good. I keep telling you my dick's the best."

He grasped the back of the couch to steady himself and began thrusting into her hard enough to rock the furniture and jostle Lute upwards until the top of her skull bumped against the armrest. The hard juts to her cervix had her head spinning. She whined as she brought her digits down to her aching clit, she grasped at one of her breasts with the other, clumsily groping herself.

"Fuck- gonna fuckin cream you," Adam panted, Lute moaned her agreement.

"Yeah?" He breathed into her ear, "You wannna get stuffed with Daddy's cum?"

His words sent a buzz down to her precious bud and twin peaks. His cock was electric and each burst of energy sent pleasure sparking up her spine. She was going to burst.

Spreading over her form like early sunlight, the orgasm caused Lute's eyes to roll back and her entire torso to tingle. Heat raised to her ears like a bad sunburn. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck! I'm- I'm-" she bit her tongue to fight a louder response, gasping as the pleasure consumed her completely.

Adam didn't stop thrusting, cradling the back of her head in one hand, the other still gripping the couch like a lifeline. He was holding her tighter, moving quicker, breath rattling in his chest, he was getting close.

Lute wrapped her arms around him, groping at his shoulders, his back, his ass, anywhere she could get a decent grip. Fuck she was ready for him to, to-

Adam's voice suddenly grew louder and he moaned with each thrust. Lute gasped as his cum painted her walls, filling her up completely.

"Fuck! Takeittakeittakeit, you fucking slut... !"

His moans broke off into heavy sighs and he gradually took more time between each thrust, slowing and slowing until he stopped altogether and collapsed on top of Lute with a throaty groan.

The only sound in the room after that was their shared breaths, they stayed that way for a while, until Lute eventually began to stir from her prone position underneath Adam. She loosened her grip around him; fingers aching from clutching onto his robe so tightly.

Turning her head so she wouldn't be smothered she wriggled until Adam finally huffed and shifted enough so that he wasn't fully on top of her.

"Aaah, that was good," he sighed dreamily.

Lute couldn't disagree, but the fluids caking her inner thighs was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Was it necessary to finish inside, sir?"

Adam smiled, spoiled and content. "What can I say, I like usin' that hole as a cum dump."

Lute stared at him flatly, but her boss didn't notice, he was already swinging his head around. "Where'd ya put that bong, I'm starting to even out." He shifted and Lute's entire body jolted.

"Sir."

"Aw c'mon, don't tell me you smoked it all,"

"Sir."

"Oh, wait, nah, we're good."

"Adam."

"What?"

"Your dick is still inside."

"...Oh."

[gadriezmannsgirl]

I’m not sure if you’re requests are open but would you be willing to write dancing in the rain with Gavi? I can just imagine it be goofy and fluffy 🥰

Hope you like this! Bit of a warning: I didn't proofread it, hopefully it doesn't have any mistakes

Dancing Under The Rain -P.G

Summary: You're crazy but he´s crazier. And mostly crazy for you

"C'mon, Pabs" You said giggling at his angry face "Don't be mad" You went to touch his cheek but he softly made himself back

"You cheated!" He yelled out a bit

"I did not cheat!" You justified yourself "I'm not a cheater, Pablo! I just happen to buy almost all of the houses and made monopolies whlist you just get in my properties"

"I told you I was paying you with kisses!"

"I accept your kisses outside the game!"

"You bankrupted me" You laugh at his sad face when a lighting sound made you jump and land in Pablo's lap, now he was the one laughing "Scared?"

"It threw me off a bit, Páez" You said untangling from him but still sat on his lap "I'm not scared"

"Yeah, sure" Pablo nodded as you both stared into the others eyes for a while "BUAH!"

"AH!" You yelled before laughing at yourself joining Pablo's laughter "You can't do that to me!" You yelled still laughing

"But you can bankrupt me whlist playing Monopoly?" You nestled yourself into his neck leaving kisses there "I don't want your kisses"

"That's the biggest lie you could ever say" You said still kissing your way up to his jaw

"No, it isn't"

"You just-!" He shushed you up

"I did nothing!" You looked narrowing your eyes at him as he smiled softly when the sound of rain came to your ears "It's raining"

"Good job, Cristobal Colón" He was, now, the one narrowing his eyes at you as you smiled "Wanna go out and play in the rain?"

"Play? What are you? Twelve?"

"What are you? Eighty-five?" You got up from his lap and headed towards the door

"Amor, you'll catch a cold!" You heard the sound of Pablo's voice as you were now under the rain

"No!! I'm strong" Your pushed your bicep out "and healthy, I eat all of my vegetables!" You yelled turning around in circles and jumping on your spot for the rain to splash all around

"Of course you would say that" Pablo mumbled watching you fool around "¡Amor!" He called out as you almost fall to the floor

"I'm alright! Didn't killed myself!" He smiled shaking his head.

You were crazy.

"Pabs, come here!"

"I'll get sick"

"No!" You whine "You're really strong, you got to the gym and you also eat your veggies" Your statement made him laugh

"Xavi will kill me"

"I swear I'm gonna shower with you and make you a soup after this!"

He thought his options, he never turned down a good shower with you and he also loved your chicken soups and those were always efective knocking out every virus off of his body

"Cuddle and kisses after?"

If you were crazy, he was crazier. And mostly for you.

"You don't have to ask that!" You smiled watching how Pablo entered the house a few seconds and then came out running towards you.

He lifted you up and turned you around in circles as you laughed

"Put me down, put me down, we'll fall!" You yelled laughing "We'll fall!"

Seconds later, Pablo putted you down laughing lightly. His hair was already sticking to his forehead and you pushed it back with your hands

"Welcome to the club"

"Which club? You don't have a club" He loved messing around with you

"This is the rainy people club, if you aren't cool enough you can't be part of it"

"Then I'm the president of it"

"Are you sure? I don't consider you cool"

"Take that back, Y/L/N!" You laughed running off his tickles.

You both spent a while goofing around and laughing your asses off. Neighbors could be looking with judging faces for the both of you but you didn't cared a single bit of it.

Pablo grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him, both of you drenched now from head to toe, smiles on your faces and love flowing from you to him and him to you.

You went from fooling around to slow dancing in the rain with the melody of your love and the words of both of your hearts, it was the best song you could ever heard.

Pablo joined his forehead with yours, his brown gorgeous eyes never leaving yours

"Te quiero"

"Even if you get a bit sick because of this?"

"Even if I get sick because of this" You smiled "I know you'll take care of me" You nodded

"I would, you'd do the same too" He nods "Yo también te quiero, Pablo" He smiled and pulled you in for a kiss only to be separated by him when you stepped a bit too hard on his feet

"Ouch!" You giggled loving the constant mood changing

"Sorry!"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover

[slisopod]

Well i have wifi again and its still christmas here at time of posting so heres that stuilly fanfic that i promised

NSFW WARNING!!!

"So, how are we taking out Sidney again?"

The words snapped Billy back to reality. They were supposed to be planning their murder spree, but all Billy could think about was the short-haired boy sitting beside him on the bed.

"Uhh, we're gonna wait until her dad's gone, you distract her over the phone and then I'll come in and finish her off...I think thats how we planned that out..." the brunette replied, sitting up and looking over at the notebook they were supposed to be writing down their plans in that Stu had decided to doodle in. The drawings looked like they were done by a child who had 5 cups of coffee, but they definetely got the job done depicting their plans.

Stu looked over at Billy. "Pretty neat, huh?" he said, pointing to a drawing of two stick figures at an altar, apparently kissing. "That's supposed to be our wedding, by the way," he moved his finger over to a drawing of the stick figures in a bed. "Thats just us fucking," he grinned. Billy sat up, smiling at him. "Sweetheart, these are our murder plans, not our everything else plans," he says, sliding his hand onto his thigh. The taller boy looked down and stayed quiet. His shorter counterpart couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

"So i can finger-fuck you in the hallway and make you moan like a cheap whore during one of your parties while both of our 'girlfriends' are in attendance, but the second that we're alone and i put my hand on your thigh you're quiet?"

Silence. Then Billy pulled Stu close, the taller boy straddling him. "C'mon, baby, you know I was just teasing you," he said, kissing his cheek. "I know," he replied, seemingly having gone back to his typical state of being.

Stu wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, his fingers finding his hair. The shorter boy planted a kiss on the base of his neck; his hand had trailed down to his hip, his thumb moving back and forth against the clothed skin.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful, Stu. I don't know what the hell I did right to deserve you." The shorter boy looked at his other half with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. The taller boy looked back, smiling like an idiot. "And here I thought you were just gonna make out with me," he said, only sort-of knowing that he kinda fucked up the mood. "Well, do you want to make out?" Billy lifted his hand and cupped Stu's face. Stu simply replied with a soft peck to his boyfriend’s lips.

Billy returned the kiss, sliding his hand down to the small of Stu's back. He parted his lips and let the taller boy slip his tongue into his mouth, the contact feeling almost intoxicating to the pair. The shorter boy slid his hand down to his hips, stopping at the waistband of his pants. He pulled away for a second.

"Can I?" he queried, looking up at Stu's flushed face. "Yeah, go ahead," he replied, smiling down at what felt like the most important person in the world to him. Billy reached over to the bedside table, opening a drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube and a couple condoms. "Do we really need those things?" the taller boy asked, referring to the condoms. In his brain, since there was no risk of pregnancy, they didnt need any condoms. "Yes, dumbass, we really need these things," Billy replied. He knew better, and someone had to be the responsible person in their relationship and it was abundantly clear from the start that person wasn't going to be Stu.

"How do you want me, baby?" the shorter boy asked, already unbuttoning the shirt that his taller counterpart was wearing. "How do you think?" he replied, unzipping Billy's pants. The brunette finished unbuttoning the shirt and slid his arms through it, one hand rubbing the taller boy's skin and the other sliding down to cup his ass. "I know, still thought I'd ask just in case." He planted a kiss on the base of his boyfriend's neck and slid his other hand down to pull down Stu's pants, taking his boxers with them.

Billy almost immediately turned his attention to the taller boy's cock, enjoying how he groaned and whimpered as he rubbed his tip. He grabbed the bottle of lube with his free hand and ceased his minstrations, much to Stu's dismay. "Why'd you stop?" he whined. "Because I'm not a fucking idiot, unlike you," he retorted, squirting the lube onto his fingertips, "And last I checked I dont have a third arm." He planted a soft kiss on Stu's neck as he slid his middle finger into his tight hole.

The taller boy gasped at the cold sensation, his hands almost instinctively gripping the shorter boy's shoulders. "Why the fuck is your finger cold?!" he half-complained as he tried to grow used to the familiar sensation of having something inside of him. "Because you're a fucking brat, that's why," the brunette joked, kissing his boyfriend's lips as he started to move his finger and eventually slipped his index finger inside. "Pull my boxers down and grab a condom," he requested, smiling to himself as Stu did exactly that. "Good boy," he cooed as he unwrapped and slid the condom down onto his throbbing length, envisioning himself doing that same thing to the boy currently moaning like a cheap slut in his lap. He lubed up his cock and slid his fingers out, positioning himself against Stu's hole and slowly sliding in.

Billy gently stroked Stu's hair as he adjusted to his boyfriend's ample size, the taller boy whining softly into his shoulder. "Fuck, baby, you feel fucking amazing," the brunette said as he started to roll his hips against his boyfriend's ass. Billy silently thanked whatever higher deity was out there that they were by themselves because god forbid anyone hear the almost pornographic noises that the both of them were making as the shorter boy sped his pace up. Between the way Stu's walls felt wrapped around his cock and the pleas for him not to stop coming from the taller boy's mouth, he couldve sworn he had died and gone to heaven. If not for the blood curdling screech emanating from the doorway to Stu's bedroom. Of course she had to be here.

"Stu! What the fuck are you doing?!" Casey exclaimed, shocked and disgusted by the sight before her. Billy looked up at her, his breathing steady. "Get out," he said curtly, still buried to the hilt inside of Stu's ass.

"You fucking-" she started, trying to gain some power over the situation.

"Get out"

"I'm gonna-"

"Get the fuck out or I'll gut you like a fish."

Disgusted, Casey left, slamming the door on her way out. Billy kissed Stu hard, wrapping his arms around his waist and thrusting upwards roughly, using him like a fleshlight until the both of them came. Billy pulled the taller boy off of him, kissing his forehead as he disposed of the condom. He lay next to him on the bed, holding him close. "Well, sweetheart, our plans for Sidney are going to have to wait. That bitch has got to go."

Sorry for the shitty writing, im kinda rusty and suck at writing smut.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night

[fivelakesinwriting]

I love your work 🥰🥰 could you please do the morning after with Drew, super fluffy with a little bit of smut maybe ?

Thank you so much, my love. I hope you love this xoxo

Author's Notes: Drew in Serbia hits so different, so hard. Brick in the face. This is the morning after a night in Serbia with Drew... (sorry, mom) It's fairly short, but full of loveeee. Let me know what you think xoxo

Warnings: Sexual references - sexual innuendos, Smutty enough (aftercare, biting, spanking) Fluffy, otherwise.

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Drew woke up in the same position he fell asleep in - on his back with her head on his chest, and his arms around her. He blinked the sleep from his eyes then looked at the clock on the nightstand, relieved it was still early.

"Morning." She whispered against his chest, her fingertips pressed into the ridges of his abs as she woke up.

"Morning, gorgeous." Drew mumbled, his voice raspy with sleep as he ran his hands over her back.

"How did you sleep?" She asked as she pressed a kiss to his chest, then leaned on her forearms to look down at him.

"Really well." Drew smiled up at her, letting her run her fingertips through his gold chain. He reached a hand up and thumbed at her neck over a series of bite marks and hickeys.

"Doesn't hurt." She replied with a shake of her head.

"It looks bad. Really bad." Drew grimaced as his thumb brushed over the bruises. He didn't realize he had been so rough with her the night before.

"It's okay, baby. Really. I can cover it up, and you know I liked it anyways." She smiled softly as she kissed his chest.

"Yeah. I know you're a freak." Drew chuckled as he ran his hands down her bare back.

"But you like it, right?" She whispered, her chin resting on his toned chest.

"Sweetie, those marks on your neck and I think your ass, too, make it clear I like it a lot. In fact, I think I'm the one who made you this way." Drew smirked as he grabbed at her backside.

"You bit my butt last night!" She giggled as she sat up on her knees, her palms on his chest to keep her balance.

"You're lucky that's all I did to your ass last night it looked so good in that bodysuit." Drew mumbled with a lopsided grin, his hands on her hips to steady her.

"Drew Starkey!" She gasped with a playful swat of his chest.

"I'm just saying. C'mon, turn around, sweetie. Let me see." Drew smiled softly as he pushed her hips to prompt her the opposite way.

She turned around and sat on her knees, showing her backside to him. Drew inhaled sharply at the distinct mark of his teeth on the left side of her ass, and his hand print a few times on the right.

"That looks really bad - " Drew stated firmly as he reached his fingertips out to touch over the raised skin on her backside, only to have her cut him off as he began to speak the first consonant of her name.

"It doesn't. And that's not my name." She stated as she turned around and crawled into his lap.

"No? And what's your name?" Drew smiled as she placed one hand on her hip, the other deeply rooted in her messy hair.

"Sweetie. I'm your sweetie." She replied as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

"You are. Because you're the sweetest girls I've ever met, or tasted." Drew smiled as he brought her face to his, licking inside her mouth.

She moaned softly against his lips, her fingers on his chin over the small bit of scruff there. Her hips shifted against his, feeling for him under the sheets.

"See? So sweet." Drew mumbled against her lips, his thumb caressed her cheek as he let her shift on top of him.

"Baby, please." She whispered as she pressed her forehead to his, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You're not too sore for me?" Drew asked softly with a chaste kiss of her lips.

"No." She replied as she reached between them to pull the sheets away and reveal his naked body beneath.

"You're insatiable lately. Am I not doing my job?" Drew breathed as he pulled her back on top her him, her wet centre against his pelvis.

"You are. I just love you, and you look so good with your hair buzzed." She smiled as she ran her hands over his head.

"Thanks, sweetie. Sorry you don't have anything to grab on to anymore, though." Drew replied, a grin on his face as his left hand followed her path over the top of his head.

"I forgive you." She whispered as she pulled at his gold chain.

"You like this, too. Don't you?" Drew mumbled as he placed his hands on her backside and ground her hips down onto his.

"Lift for me, sweetie?" Drew asked with the softest pat of her backside with both hands.

She did as told and lifted her lower half, sticking her ass out for show in the mirror across from the bed she knew he was watching her in. He laid a slap on the back of her thigh as he lined up with her entrance, letting out a groan.

"Brat. I'll bite that ass again."

Hotties:

@maybankslut @starkey-babie @sodasback @barrysjumpsuit @fashion-fasting @beauvibaby @professional-busboy @soph0864

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[xxlost-cityxx]

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS

Ship/Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki

TW/CW: Rough anal sex, virgin Katsuki Bakugou, slight choking, slight piss kink/bladder control, brief spanking, rimming, bottom Katsuki, dom Kirishima, begging, crying, anal fingering, degredation and praise

I posted this on Ao3 literally last night, so enjoy.

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

Stupid fucking Kirishima with his stupid fucking face and stupid fucking body-

Again. Once-a-fucking-gain. Katsuki was hard at work. Kirishima had simply aided Katsuki in a surprisingly powerful villain attack- even though everyone knew Dynamight had it under control. But Eijirou's help...made it easier to take down the villain- NOT that Katsuki needed his help in the first place. 

The villain landed a hit on Katsuki and he flew into a pile of concrete and wooden rubble, and the next thing he saw was Red Riot, unhardened, nearly body slamming the guy into a wall, digging his forearm and elbow into his neck and his knee between his legs. It looked painful for the villain and it looked like Ejirou was definitely holding back from completely crushing the dude's balls...But. The way Kirishima was looking at the guy, a stone cold face, a deadly glare he hasn't seen since the last time Eijirou had heard Monama talk back in U.A. He was mad. And Gods if that sight didn't make him pop a boner-

So now here he was. Virgin Katsuki pretending he was too good to be around all his druken friends who were surely getting laid tonight, meanwhile, all Katuski would do tonight is ride his dildo until the sun came up. 

Bakugou couldn't jack off. It wasn't really a fact, but he's pretty sure that any man would avoid jacking off with even a small risk that you might blow your own dick off, especially if you were gay. Gods bless the prostate. And really, it takes forever to cum riding 6 inches of colored silicone without touching your dick, but the point was, it got the job done and no one knew his secret to having 'thunder thighs' or some shit. He still remembers the first interveiwer who asked about his leg day routine, stating that he had entranced everyone with his thighs or some shit. He never thought he'd be referred to as 'thick' or whatever it was.

He took another shot of vodka, ignoring the pestering jealousy as he watched Kirishima dance with Denki. It was obviously platonic, not only did they repeatedly state in multible interviews that they were 'strictly bromance' and that they liked fucking with their fans's minds, Denki was dating Dead Eyes and Earphones. 

Bakugou wasn't even a little tipsy really, it took a lot to get him drunk. It took a lot to get any of them drunk, but that didn't stop anyone from trying. But Bakugou wasn't going to go home drunk and have drunken masturbation for 5 hours, never was his thing. So he'd stick to being sober for tonight. 

He growled as Kirishima's hand was on Denki's hip, Kaminari's back against Eijirou's chest. The much smaller blonde wiggled his hips against Kirishima's surely soft dick. Sero and Mina were laughing their asses off from their seats, Denki smirking and trying to be as dramatic and intimate as he could, a few phones recording them. 

Katsuki growled to himself, slamming the shot glass on the bar top so hard it slightly cracked. He stood up and grabbed his coat, oblivious to how red eyes quickly switched from watching the smiling and laughing faces of his friends to laser focused on the ash blonde in a split second. 

As Katsuki left the bar, he grumbled to himself until he was outside his place. 

An hour later, he was panting. It felt like his entire body was covered in lube by the time he was bouncing on the silicone properly. He frowned, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the head bump into his prostate with practiced movements, usually a feeling that would have him gasping and shuttering, but he wanted this cock to be Kirishima's. He was sick and tired of riding an inanimate object that didn't praise him, didn't make noise, didn't cum. He wanted to be pinned and fucked so hard he would have to call off work the next day.

He whimpered as his toned thighs easily let him travel up and down the silicone. Silicone. He couldn't even get himself hard, he was soft, even with his ass stuffed and his prostate stimulated, he was soft. There wasn't a twitch, and even his prostate felt dull. 

He groaned to himself, sliding off the dildo and reaching for his phone. He quickly unlocked it and pulled up his gallery with his singular 'clean' finger, quickly going to his hidden folder and clicking on the picture that always got him hard. Kirishima did a photoshoot nearly 6 months ago, he was in a kimono that was completely opened with white pants that banded to his stomach. He stared at Katsuki through the picture, a belt in his big, tanned hand. He already felt his cock harden slightly, a small frown painting his face as that was like a weak attempt at mimicking his usual reaction to the picture. 

He slid back on the dildo propping his phone against his wall and started bouncing. He imagined those toned hands sliding against his back, barely touching him, and it was almost like he could feel it, his body twitching with slight interest. He imagined his voice, telling him to ride the dildo, training his hole for what was surely a monster cock, Eijirou too nice to let Katsuki destroy himself on his cock right off the bat...unless… What if he would just fuck him? And that got his reaction. His dick was fully hard now, but it wasn't aching with need like usual. 

What if Eijirou would slam into him as soon as the dildo was out? Would he let Katsuki adjust, or would he pound him into oblivion with the raw power his body held? 

He let out a moan, but the pleasure didn't last long as his phone started ringing. He nearly flinched, scowling at his phone for ruining what he worked hard for, but his face sofened as it was Kirishima calling him. 

His mouth went dry, his eyes slightly wide. He doesn't know what really compelled him to answer the phone, but as Kirishima's voice rang through the other end, he couldn't help but bite his lip and shift on the dildo. "W-What do you need, Dumbass?" He asked, cursing himself for starting his sentence off weak. "Haha- Hey, Kat! I just wanted to made sure you were okay. You hit that rubble pretty hard today, and you left earlier than usual." His cheery, sober, voice said. Katsuki closed his eyes, slowly rolling his hips up the dildo, the familiar arousal burning in his stomach, finally. 

He stifled a whimper, "M' fine, Shitty Hair…." He pretended to grumble out, desperate to think of something to keep him on the line as long as possible. "That's great! I was a little worried, y'know. Didn't want to lose the manliest man I've even known since highschool!" He said, and Bakugou's heart did a mixture of dropping and fluttering. He felt guilty for trying to get off to his voice, clearly ignorant and innocent, but he couldn't help but acknowledge that he didn't refer to him as his best friend which would usually put him down. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his hips, gasping as he accidentally his his prostate. He dropping the phone, slapping a hand over his face. "Katsuki!? What was that?" Kirishima urgently called. Bakugou's dick was on fire, his body was alight with arousal, if only Kirishima knew. 

He hesitantly picked up the phone. "I'm f-fine~ Shitty Hair!" He replied, cursing himself for not stopping himself from slowly bouncing on the dildo again. 

Silence. 

He slightly wondered if he accidentally hung up, but there was still static. "I'm not stupid, Katsuki." Kirishima suddenly said. Bakugou froze. His voice was lower but soft, almost like he was hesitant to say it in the first place. "W-..What the hell are you talking about?" He asked, not daring to move on the dildo, even though he wanted to take advantage of Kirishima's tone so fucking bad. 

"Are you getting off right now?" Kirishima asked, Bakugou suddenly became aware of how slick and schelchy the lube was. Bakugou's throat closed up, his mouth too dry to produce words. "Fuck…" Kirishima whispered, the sound making Bakugou's eyes widen. "Are you trying to fuck with me…?" He asked, but Bakugou wasn't deaf to the distant sound of Kirishima nearly break checking himself. 

Bakugou whimpered quietly, but a part of him prayed that Kirishima heard him, and as his breath hitched over the phone, he knew he did. 

"Fuck-" Kirishima groaned. Bakugou gasped at the sound, bouncing on the plastic lightly once again, the lewd noises surely reaching the phone. "C-Come over." Bakugou's stern voice said, once again sounding weak in the beginning. "Already on my way." Kirishima nearly whispered back. 

Bakugou's body was on fire, every part of him was twitching. The call ended only a minute ago, and suddenly Bakugou's night was going to change who he was. He was hard, nervous, excited but horny above all else. As soon as he heard his front door open and nearly slam shut, Bakugou gasped, trying to let out his nerves. Heavy, fast footsteps made their way down his halls, and suddenly Bakugou was conscious about how he should present himself. 

He didn't have time, and so he let himself be cocky, leaning forward on his hands, arching his back and rolling his hips on the silicone gracefully, and it probably looked a little too good based on how smooth the action felt. But he didn't have room for his usual pride, Kirishima was stuck in the doorway with his mouth slightly open and wide eyes. Bakugou looked at him in the mirror to his side, and his eyes were staring at him. 

"Holy fuck.." He groaned, his hand slowly moving to his crotch, but he gripped the inside of his thigh. Mid. Thigh. 

Bakugou's eyes widened as he finally had the rough sketch of Eijirou's cock in his mind, and fuck he wanted to go stupid with cock. 

"C'mon…" Bakugou nearly whimpered, rolling his hips a little more dramatically. Kirishima groaned in the doorway, slowly walking into the room, Bakugou's position giving him the perfect view of his pink, glistening and stretched hole swallowing the silicone easily, the dildo's girth seemed pathetic to what Eijirou knew he had. 

Eijirou knelt down behind him, and as Katsuki smiled, expecting him to caress his body, that didn't happen. 

Kirishima quickly wrapped his hand around the smaller man's throat, yanking him back to meet his still clothed chest. Bakugou wheezed at the unexpected and sudden movement, but fuck if his own cock didn't love it already. 

"Riding this pathetic dildo while I was out there concerned about you, hm?" He darkly whispered, his finger tips lightly digging into his neck. Bakugou whimpered, wiggling his hips back, trying to get a feel for the man's clothed cock for himself. Kirishima sighed, almost in disappointment. "Tell me.. What were you thinking about? Riding this pathetic excuse of a dildo." He asked, talking right into Bakugou's ear. Bakugou let out a stuttering breath, squirming in Kirishima's sturdy grip. 

"Tell me." 

Bakugou gasped at his dark tone paired with his hand gripping his entire neck roughly. He wasn't used to feeling so small compared to someone else, but fuck he was loving it. 

"Y-You…" Bakugou gasped out as Kirishima loosened his grip just enough. "What about me..?" He asked, only slightly softer. 

Katsuki's cock was aching, begging for the same attention Eijirou was giving his throat. "H-How hard you would fuck me- How big your cock is…" Bakugou finally admitted, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Kirishima hummed in his ear, his hand moving to the back of Bakugou's neck instead and pulling him up to his feet. Bakugou let out a guttural moan as he was ripped off the dildo still suctioned to the floor. 

Kirishima hummed, noting how the dildo really did look like a pathetic version of himself. 

Kirishima dragged Bakugou to his bed, glaring at the blonde when he tried to move. He pulled off his own shirt and pants quickly before joining him on the bed. Bakugou's eyes quickly widened at the sight, his mouth slightly open and his face slightly filled with fear and shock, but quickly replaced with determination. "Better fucking prep me, asshole." Bakugou spit out, laying on his back. 

He didn't expect Kirishima's rough nature to continue though. Eijirou glared at Bakugou before swiftly gripping his neck and pinning him further into the mattress. "Excuse you? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to right now? Order me around again, I fucking dare you." Kirishima spit out a look of fake disgust on his face. Bakugou was shocked by the moan that left him, more than happy with his decisions from tonight, at least so far. 

He yelped as Kirishima's hand left his neck and grabbed his hips instead. Kirishima pulled his ass into the air, Bakugou's legs spreading automatically, falling to almost meet his chest. "W-What are you gonna do?" Bakugou asked, eyes wide with arousal. "None of your fucking buisness." Kirishima spit out, digging his thumbs into the stretched pink muscle. Bakugou gasped as Eijirou pulled his rim apart, testing just how stretched he was. 

Bakugou saw his cock when he took off his pants, the way it weighed itself down, how his fingertips would definetly have trouble touching each other, and the fucking length- he wondered if Kirishima would actually show through his stomach…

As Kirishima added a finger to stretch and play with his rim, he decided to take down the roughness, only for a couple seconds though. "Use the traffic light system, okay?" He almost ordered, wanting to keep the same sexual energy but also let Bakugou know there was a safe way out. Bakugou's breath stuttered and he quickly nodded, having read enough fanfiction about being fucked by Kirishima and having done enough research to know something as simple as the traffic light system, and he's so fucking green.

Bakugou didn't expect a tongue to enter him though.

Bakugou nearly shouted, gripping at the sheets before pathetically trying to reach for the other man's head. "N-No!" Bakugou shouted, but it was moan filled and an empty request. Kirishima's eyes shifted to Bakugou, lapping his tongue over the blonde's rim before softly shoving it inside as far as he could. 

Bakugou was squirming around at the foregin feeling, gasping every time he moved his tongue, it felt so warm, soft and perfectly wet. 

Kirishima took his mouth away, licking his lips as he roughly slammed 3 fingers into the unsuspecting hole. He quickly spread them as far as he could, Bakugou's gasp turning into a pained moan. As Kirishima softly stroked his slightly pulsing insides, Bakugou was panting with wide eyes. "Beg." Kirishima ordered darkly, jamming his fingers into Bakugou as far as he could, hitting his prostate hard. 

Bakugou moaned out, caving in on himself because of how Kirishima held his ass up. But he wouldn't beg. 

After a few seconds of soft finger thrusting and no begging, Kirishima picked up the pace, slipping one of his fingers out, knowing Katsuki won't like the lack of fullness anymore. He jams his fingers into his prostate every time, Bakugou's eyes nearly crossing as he tries to arch his back but just keeps caving in on himself. 

"Fucking. Beg." "F-Fuck you.." Bakugou responds, his voice shakey, the defiance fake and fragile. Kirishima's eyes narrow, a frown forming on his lips. "Fine." He replies, shifting one hand to Bakugou's abdomen and pressing, pleased with the slight fullness under a specific layer of muscle. He continued to slam into his g-spot, Bakugou's eyes widening and getting slightly watery. "W-Wait-!" Bakugou moaned out loud, slight panic coating his oh so beautiful face. The tip of his penis kept rubbing against Kirishima's arm, and he knew so much stimulation was working against him. He was either going to beg or piss himself. 

"S-Stop! Too much- T-Too fucking much! I have to go you f-fuckkk-ing lunatic!" He moaned out, grabbing at Kirishima's arms. "Beg. Beg for me to fuck you, or you're going to piss yourself, get your clean sheets dirty, all unsatisfied and embarrassed. Poor little Katsuki couldn't hold his little blatter while I fucked you with my fingers." Eijirou cooed, tiliting his head a little before bending down and licking along the back of his thigh to the crease of his ass. He travels up to his sack and licks him firmly with the flat of his tongue. 

Katsuki screams.

His clawing becomes frantic, and he's sure he's sobbing, but he's no match for even Kirishima's strength. "N-No! Ei- Stop! I-I'm gonna pee!" Katsuki cries, thrashing around as much as he can. But as Eijirou gently sucks in one of his balls, his resolve snaps. "Please! Please, please, please!" Katsuki finally cries, Eijirou's fingers slowing down and his hand letting up on his blatter. He moves away from Katsuki's cock and smirks down at the red and teary face below him. 

"Please what?" He asks, Bakugou's eyes widening. "P...Please… Please fuck me… I want you to fuck me with your fat cock!" He cries, tears falling from his eyes. 

Eijirou sighs, content with his work. "Good boy~" He coos, swiftly plunging 2 more fingers inside and spreading them. Katsuki gasps, looking up at Kirishima who refuses to look away from his face. 

As Kirishima slowly pulls out, he bends over and grabs the lube from the floor, popping open the cap and pouring it into Katsuki. He flinches and wines at how cold it is, and Eijirou just travels the bottle to his cock, rubbing his hand over it and coating everything with lube. 

As he sloppily closes the bottle, he moves Katsuki onto his stomach, Bakugou groaning as he was finally out of that horrid position. 

Kirishima places the tip at his entrance, kissing Bakugou's nape, and right as Bakugou prepares for a dreadfully slow slide. Kirishima slams into the hilt. Bakugou's eyes shoot wide and his thrusted up further into the bed with the force, his mouth dropping open as a horrid moan filled scream leaves him. 

This is it….he's not a virgin anymore…

He feels nothing but cock, painfully perfect cock that makes it hard to breathe.

Kirishima groans at the tight feeling, his body shaking as he convinces himself not to fuck Katsuki into oblivion. 

Eijirou starts off slow, dragging his cock out halfway before pressing in again, the pace making them both groan. God, Katsuki's back tooks so fucking pretty all arched like that, delicate but strong all in one. He always knew Bakugou would look so pretty with his face burried in sheets, his ass high in the air and filled with his cock. 

He feels himself slipping, his thrusts slipping into violent, angry lust every so often before he catches himself quickly. 

But as Katsuki's sweet moans keep reaching his ears, he finally gives in, grabbing Katsuki's wrists and pulling them back, lifting Katsuki off the bed and using his wrists as leverage, pulling his weak body back onto his cock as he slams his hips into the man's ass. 

"Holy fucking shit~" Bakugou's voice calls out as Kirishima's thrusts get rougher, violent. His voice bounced with the thrusts, his moans cutting each other off as Kirishima no longer cares about hitting the man's prostate, pounding into him purely for selfish pleasure Bakugou didn't know he was capable of. 

"Fucking pathetic cocksleeve- Such a fucking whore for dick, huh? You fucking-love! -taking my fat cock like this!" Kirishima spits out, pulling on Katsuki's wrists harder. Bakugou's eyes are crossing, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

'Ruining me-'

"Not a single thought going through that head of yours, huh? Just taking my cock so good like this, loving how I ruin every other cock out there for you! Only my cock can make you cum, can make you feel so fucking good!" "Y-Yes~" Bakugou's broken voice cries out, tears sliding down his cheeks. 

The bed is slamming into the wall so hard the pictures are rattling, and Bakugou can't register anything but cock, pleasure, Kirishima and cumming. 

"So fucking good, so~ fUCKing go-od~" Bakugou sobs, not caring of the searing pain in his arms and shoulder blades. But as Kirishima angles his hips, he starts slamming into Bakugou's prostate, and as Bakugou tries to arch in Kirishima's hold, he cums. He clamps around his cock so hard Kirishima moans, letting go of Katsuki's arms and letting him fall face first into the bed as his entire body rocks with unbroken thrusts, shaking with the ongoing orgasm that never seems to end. Eijirou hears the sobbing and groans with pleasure, swinging his hand down to Bakugou's ass, growling as he watches the muscle and fat ripple with the perfect impact. 

Kirishima puts his hands in the curve of Katsuki's spine, pressing him down and shifting forward, slightly sitting back on his calves as he jackhammers into Bakugou's swollen, red and oh so fucking soft boy cunt. 

Katsuki is screaming but it's so distant to Eijirou, all he can hear is the squelching of his ass and all he can think of is cumming. 

"FUCK- EIJIROU~" Katsuki screams, sobbing and begging for him to slow down, not to thrust so hard, not to be so brutal. He can't feel his limbs, all he can feel is the overstimulation as his body is pounded so hard he inches forward on his bed, only to be pulled back just as quickly. He feels like a cocksleeve because he is one. 

Kirishima groans, finally slamming into Katsuki with all he has, his cock pulsing inside Bakugou almost like a slow vibrator. As Kirishima completely fills Katsuki's intestines with cum, his own cock spurts out a pathetic amount of it's own cum, his balls drawing up tight and his cock twitching with painful interest. 

Kirishima and Bakugou are panting, and as Eijirou gives another overstimulated thrust for good measure, the both moan out. 

"F-Fuck…." Kirishima groans, Katsuki panting into the sheets with wide, tired eyes. 

He really did ruin Katsuki's chances at fucking anyone else. There's no way he can go back to toys, and there's no way he can fuck anyone else.

[babyboibucky]

Devil’s Mark

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: You accept a temp job as a runner for a rockstar’s concert.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: TW! Dubcon if you squint, toxic shit, filthy smut, mean!Bucky, rough oral (M receiving), rimming (M receiving), rough sex, slapping, overstimulation, Bucky marking you with a cigarette burn, MINORS DNI I BEG OF YOU

A/N: So this happened lmfao again, this is not to romanticize T*mmy L*e! I don’t care for him tbh, Seb’s tats and piercings were merely inspos for Rockstar!Bucky. Also, this piece sucks because it’s just idk, rushed and filthy and all over the place but I needed to get this out of my system so I can go back to my other WIPs lmfao

Also Rockstar!Bucky’s theme is Nine Inch Nails’ Closer sjcnkjsnakcs and please, he doesn’t have a goatee in this lmfao that fucking goatee ain’t working for me

Devil’s Mark Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

When you accepted the temp job as a runner for a certain rockstar's concert, you'd expected to follow the orders of the staff— bring some equipment to the other side of the venue, fix the lights over there, clean the microphones, buy them coffee— you know, the usual.

You did end up following orders, except that it involved taking the star of the show's cock down your throat.

Bucky Barnes was the epitome of a rockstar with his kohl-rimmed eyes, tattooed skin and piercings in unimaginable parts of his body. He smelled like smoke and leather, tasted like sex, sin and regret.

This was something you weren't supposed to do, hell, you'd never done something like this. At least, not with someone whom you just met a couple of minutes ago. But good god, there was something so irresistible about Bucky that made you say yes to him almost immediately.

Maybe it was the thrill of doing something that your mother warned you about, or the way Bucky looked at you like you were the prettiest thing he'd seen. Or was it his voice and how it sounded velvety-smooth yet rough around the edges whenever he praised you for being his good girl?

Perhaps it was Bucky's entire existence that made you want to desecrate your own image.

"Just like that. Doin' so good for me, sucking my fucking cock like your lollipop. You like how I taste?" Bucky cooed as he sat on the couch, eyes watching you as you kneeled in between his leather clad knees with your lips wrapped around the head of his cock.

You hummed and gripped his knees, hollowing your cheeks as Bucky's hands held your head to keep you in place. He grunted and threw his head back when you slid lower, doing your best to relax your jaw so you can take him further than you'd ever taken someone before.

"Fuckin' hell, sugar." Bucky groaned and violently pushed your head down, making you choke on his cock.

Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen when he forced you to stay in place. You could feel his cock pulsate against your throat, making you gag on it continuously. Your hands began to hit Bucky's thighs when he refused to let you go, your heart hammering against your chest as you panicked at the feeling of losing all the air in your lungs.

Bucky darkly chuckled, ignoring your actions. "Breathe through your nose, sugar. You can do it, c'mon." he cooed.

A mix of your spit and Bucky's cum escaped your mouth, dribbling along your chin down to your top, soaking through the fabric. You tried to follow Bucky's instructions and inhaled through your nose, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you gagged again.

"Such a good whore for me, aren't you?" Bucky grunted, finally pulling your head by the hair, allowing you to gasp out for air.

Your cheeks were stained with your tears as you looked up at him, your chest rising and falling heavily with every breath you took. Bucky looked down at you lovingly, his hand tightening around your hair and the other gently caressing your cheek.

"You wanna make me happy, sugar?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.

Bucky then harshly gripped your face in his hand, squeezing your face as he tilted your head up so he could bend down and give you a kiss. It was sloppy, full of tongue and spit but it only spurred you on. The way Bucky was treating you was making you feel things you'd never felt before.

"I need your words, sugar. You wanna make me happy?" he asked again, louder this time.

"Yes, I want to." you said, voice hoarse from having his cock violently shoved down your throat.

Bucky slapped your face before gripping your jaw tightly, "Louder, sugar." he growled.

"Yes! Yes, I want to make you happy!" you exclaimed, eyes fluttering when Bucky tapped your cheek while praising you for being so fucking obedient.

You stayed on your knees and watched Bucky as he stood up, pulling his leather pants down further until he was completely naked. Wetness pooled in your panties as you took in the sight of Bucky, wanting him to just use you however he wanted.

To make you feel useful for once.

Bucky sat back down on the couch, spreading his legs as he gripped your neck, tugging you closer to his cock that rested against his tattooed abdomen.

"You wanna make me happy? I want you to fucking eat my ass." he growled and you blinked, not expecting his request.

Bucky noticed the hesitation on your part and leaned forward to kiss you again, this time taking your lower lip in between his teeth and tugging at it harshly until it bled.

"Not gonna ask you twice, sugar." he warned against your lips before leaning back against the couch.

Your trembling hand took his shaft, jerking him off as you bent forward to lick his balls first. Bucky grunted in response, his hips thrusting upwards as you continued to tug at his cock while your mouth proceeded to work on his sack.

A hiss slipped past your lips when Bucky took a fistful of your hair again, tugging you head back and lifting a brow at you.

"Sugar, I know what you're tryna do and that's not what I asked you." he said, gritting through his teeth and just like that, he dragged your head back down in between his legs as he leaned back against the couch.

Words failed to make it out of your mouth when Bucky pushed your face under his balls, his hand reaching down to grip his cock to jerk at it.

"Stick your tongue out, sugar. Make me feel good, you want that, don't you?" Bucky said, keeping your face in between his head.

You were more afraid to disappoint Bucky than your dignity, the feeling of being forced to do things you'd never imagined was making your thighs clench and your cunt weep. It never occurred to you that it was even possible for someone like you to enjoy being treated this way.

All this time you considered yourself holy, someone who couldn't bear to sin even if her life depended on it. And yet here you were, in between Bucky's legs with your tongue flattening against his puckered hole.

"Oh fuck, that's it." Bucky moaned at your first lick.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to get lost in Bucky's taste as you stiffened your tongue to prod his tight hole. His scent enveloped your senses, the sound of his hand jerking his cock coated with his own cum joining his grunts and groans that went straight to your core.

If this act was a sin, then why did it feel like heaven to you?

"You enjoy eating my ass, huh? Sugar? Yeah?" Bucky asked, grinning at you proudly as you looked up at him.

Seeing you like that made Bucky feral, lashes fluttering as you kept your innocent gaze on him while half of your face was buried deep in between his ass cheeks.

A saint who was willing to sin just for him.

Bucky pulled back and smiled down at you as you panted, "You ever been fucked?" he asked.

You nodded, letting him know that you've done the deed but never like this, of course. Bucky chuckled and cooed in amusement while letting his knuckles graze your cheekbone.

"I don't think so, sugar. At least, not like how I'm going to fuck you. Gonna ruin you for other men, make you mine and only mine. You gonna let me do that, sweet cheeks? Gonna let me use you however I want?" he asked but as usual, didn't wait for you to utter a single word to proceed.

Not that you were going to deny Bucky that.

He pulled you up to your feet by the arm, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before he unzipped your jeans and pulled it down together with your panties. Both your hands were quick to cover your mound from embarrassment, not sure whether Bucky preferred his women bare down there.

"Ah, ah." Bucky tutted, slapping your hands away before cupping your mound, making you jolt backwards at the cold sensation of the rings on his fingers.

"No need to be shy about a little hair down there." he said, dragging his hand upwards to play with the triangular patch of hair covering your mound before pushing you down on the couch.

"Open your legs, sugar. Show me how wet that fucking cunt is." he said.

He knelt down in front of you and almost salivated at the sight of your glistening pussy, so pink and so open as you spread your legs. A tinge of pink painted your cheeks as you watched Bucky nose the insides of your thighs, breathing in your scent while his hand continued to pump his cock.

"God, look at you. Dripping just for me." he moaned and then spit on your pussy, making you gasp out loud.

"I want you to make noise for me, wanna hear you scream my name. Wanna hear you beg for me..." he whispered before finally licking your cunt.

You moaned out loud, wanton and desperate for Bucky to keep going. He ate you out like you were his last meal, it was messy with his spit smearing across your thighs. Bucky was rough with you but god, the sounds he'd make as he lapped up your pussy was borderline obscene. Grunts, groans and muffled praises rang in your ear.

"Ride my face, sugar. Move those hips, smother me with your fuckin' cream. I want your scent on me, wanna smell you when I go onstage." he said and dove back in, your hips moving on their own accord as you chased your nearing high.

The surroundings spun around you and suddenly, all you could feel and hear was Bucky. His tongue and teeth on your cunt, his words of encouragement and then you were gone. Letting out a breathy moan when you came, you tried to close your legs but Bucky pinned them down on the couch as he continued to eat you out.

"Keep cumming, I want more. Give me more, sugar. Come on." Bucky urged and added his fingers into the mix.

Your thighs quaked and your clit was burning from how Bucky kept on sucking on it. Patches of your sweat began to soak your top, mixing along with the marks left by your drool and Bucky's cum.

"Bucky, I can't..." you sputtered out, grabbing at his hair and tugging him away.

That earned you a hard slap on your cheek, the sting only adding to the pleasure that was yet again building up within your core.

"Yes you can and you fucking will." he said and started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy hard and fast until you were crying out again as another wave of orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

You weren't even done riding out your first climax when your second washed over you. And Bucky was relentless and damn insatiable, getting up and sliding his cock into your throbbing cunt.

Your throat went dry with how your moans were slowly transforming into a high-pitched shriek. Bucky was unforgiving as he fucked you, ignoring how your hands were scratching at his forearms in an attempt to escape their grip on your waist. The pleasure was too much, it was borderline painful but it was addicting.

The way Bucky's cock was extending your second orgasm to the point of coaxing out a third was making you delirious.

"You gonna pass out on me, sugar? Can't take my cock that well, huh?" Bucky mocked, his palm tapping your cheek to keep you awake.

You shook your head and tried to speak but couldn't do so. All you could do was whimper and babble like a fucking idiot as Bucky pounded into you. Just as when you were about to explode, his thrusts turned slow and languid, giving you an opportunity to recover.

"You still with me?" he asked with a chuckle, running his fingers through his sweaty locks.

Swallowing, you hummed in response and ignored how your body felt like it was literally on fire. Bucky reached for his leather pants on the ground without pulling his cock out from your cunt. Taking out a cigarette stick and a lighter, he placed the stick in between his lips and lighted it up. He slowly pulled back at the same time he took a drag from his cigarette, the pleasure building up once more as he pushed back into you.

Bucky almost looked ethereal like that with the fluorescent light illuminating behind him, puffs of smoke surrounding his figure as he stood in between your spread legs. His nipple piercings glistening, his tattooed arm flexing when he grabbed the back of your knee, pushing it down onto the couch to further open you up.

"Tell me you're mine to use." he said, nodding his head at you.

"I'm yours to use, Bucky." you whispered.

He smiled a charming smile, almost boyish in charm as opposed to his rugged and rough appearance. And then he sped up his thrusts again, making your toes curl and your fingers ball into fists.

"Yeah, you're mine?" he asked.

You nodded, face scrunching up in pleasure. "Yes, Bucky. All yours. I'm yours, please..." you pleaded.

"Please what, sugar?" he taunted.

"So close, I can't..." you didn't know whether you wanted to cum again or if you wanted him to stop.

Your body was buzzing from overstimulation but Bucky loved it. He loved seeing you like this, wrecked and sobbing. He merely laughed and blew smoke into your face.

"You can, sugar. Gonna make sure you cum again." Bucky growled, snapping his hips in a particular angle that brought you so close to the edge.

"Gonna mark you to make sure no one will want to mess with you." Bucky said, taking his cigarette out from his lips and then pressing it down against the inside of your right thigh.

Your scream was from the combination of pain from the burn and pleasure from your orgasm, making your body tremble on the couch. Your eyes rolled, tears spilling from your eyes and your spit seeping from the corner of your swollen lips.

"That's right, fuck. Milking my fucking cock so well." Bucky grunted followed by a breathy moan when he spilled his seed inside of you without any warning.

Too spent to even realize it, you laid on the couch almost lifelessly when Bucky pulled out and started dressing up as if he didn't just fuck your brains out. It took you a few minutes to return to the right headspace and when you finally came around, Bucky was dressed up in a loose muscle tee and his leather pants.

He walked over to you and bent down to squeeze your face in his hand, eyes glazing over your naked body before he looked back into your half-lidded eyes.

"Goddamn, sugar. Lookit you." he darkly chuckled before kissing you sloppily.

And then just like that, he was out of the dressing room. You looked down at yourself, naked from the waist below and flinched at the cigarette burn on the inside of your thigh. The ache was tolerable now, your intense pleasure masking its pain when Bucky pressed it against your flesh.

The burn was in stark contrast to your skin tone. It stood out, haunting you and reminding you that you sold your soul to a devil on earth— the devil's mark.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

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[maxburnett]

Summer Heat, Steve Rogers Part 2 Here

- (fem!reader x Steve Rogers)

Summary: It's a hot summer day and when you stop for a popsicle and are eating it in front of Steve he can't control his Language anymore. For @syntheticavenger's 5K Follower Challenge

Warnings: Contains Smut! 18+ only minors do not interact! Includes Oral (69), Face Riding, Slight Praise Kink (?), cockwarming if you squint, Steve has a dirty mouth, WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE CAP, Ending you won't see coming (?)

Word Count: 2,734 (I Went Over Jail For Me)

How It Started

It was so hot outside, the blistering sun had been shining for the past few days, and you felt like you were going to melt. You were sitting in the shadow of a tree as Steve ran up, flopping down beside you, rubbing a hand up his face as sweat dripped down his forehead.

"It's too damn hot," he sighed, leaning his head back against the tree and tilted his head sideways to look at you.

"Language, Rogers," you said with a smirk as you looked up at him with soft eyes. "I swear to God I feel like I'm going to melt," you laughed. You pull at your shirt as if trying to fan your body with it, and he turns his head as he watches a bead of sweat run from your neck down into your cleavage. Luckily, you didn't notice. He turns his head back as you smile up at him, his blue eyes studying your face.

"What'cha thinkin' 'bout, Stevie?" You playfully punch his arm with a laugh.

"Nothing," he said and averted his gaze as he stood up. "C'mon, we should head back to the compound," he said, watching as you stretched; he gulped, feeling an erection forming in his mesh shorts. You hum in response and walk behind him, holding your water bottle, not noticing how he had to adjust himself as he reached the car and opened the door for you.

"Can we stop at that one place that makes those popsicles out of juice?" You ask as you reach forward and turn the air conditioner on full blast.

"Whatever you want is fine with me," he says as he pulls onto the road and stops by the place.

"So, do you want one?" You ask, looking over at him as he rests his head against the headrest. He turns his head towards you, tilting his head to study you as he shakes his head no.

"No, I'm good," he says, enjoying the cool air coming from the car's air conditioning. He watches you nod and reaches over for the car handle for you so you can get out of the car.

He leans his head back and watches as you walk in, your shorts leaving nothing to the imagination as he watches your ass move perfectly with each stride you take. He'd been watching you for months, and he was sure you were oblivious to the stares or the way he'd lick his lips watching you.

You definitely didn't know that he'd lay in bed with his hand around his dick, imagining it was your face he was fucking. He had his eyes closed, a groan escaping his lips as he felt his dick twitch at the images in his head. He opened his eyes, hearing the door open again, and looked over at you holding a Red, White, and Blue Popsicle.

"Look, they had one in your colors," you tease. "Do you want the first lick?"

"Umm, no, I'm good," he stammers.

You giggle and hold it up to your lips as you wrap your mouth around it, savoring the cold frozen ice that tasted like cherry, coconut, and blueberry. You moan at the coolness going down your dry throat and open your eyes as a groan escapes Steve's lips.

You can see him now, his eyes locked on your lips. You pull the popsicle from your lips as you can feel your cheeks burning. You look over at him and notice that he has an enormous erection formed in his shorts.

"Steve?"

"Don't stop on my account," he hums, his own cheeks turning a bright red. That you swear was as red as the cherry tip of the popsicle. "But don't argue with me when I get you home and my dick replaces that fucking popsicle," he said, gripping the wheel tightly. "I've wanted to have your mouth around my dick ever since I laid eyes on you. I just know you'll look good between my legs as I fuck that pretty little mouth," he says, and you feel the wetness in your panties begin to leak from your cunt.

If the others could just hear Steve's choice of words.

You honestly didn't think he had it in him.

You lock eyes with him as you bring the popsicle up to your lips. You slowly push it in all the way and suck it, making the sexiest noises you can muster. When you finish, you remove the popsicle stick, and he leans forward, bringing you into his lap, and he kisses you. Taking your lips roughly with his so he can taste the mixture of the artificially flavored popsicle.

"Just wait till we get home gonna fill you up," he says into your mouth. "Hope I don't stretch your pretty little mouth or cunt with my dick too much, Sweets," he hums, and you ache against him as you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as you shove your tongue in. You pull away a few moments later and grind your shorts against his erection. He moans and dips his fingers into your sides before you hop off of him and look at him innocently and bat your lashes as he curses under his breath and pulls out of the parking spot. It's impressive that he didn't get pulled over on the way back to the compound; any cop would have taken one look into the car and noticed just why Captain America was speeding through New York City Traffic. But for once, for once in his life, he could care less about breaking the law.

When you got back to the compound, Steve quickly opened your door and simply pulled you up into his arms. His lips crashed down onto yours in a bruising kiss. You wondered what the others would think if they saw him walking you into the compound with your legs wrapped around his waist.

Luckily, nobody else was at the compound that day, he carried you into his room and roughly pushed your back into the wall by the door, and the two of you quickly undressed each other ad then he tossed you onto his bed, where he finally pulled your panties off and his boxers. After your underwear was removed, everything else seemed to be happening in slow motion. Steve held your body close to his and laid back on the bed. He turned you, so you were facing his dick. He watched in awe as you moved back and descended your cunt onto his mouth. The tip of your clit had emerged from the hood and glistened. You began to grind the soft flesh down against his lips. He around your clit and up inside your wet folds.

You began to hump his mouth so vigorously that he couldn't help but moan against your cunt. Your juices spilled down his flushed cheeks and dripped off of his chin, and coated his beard. His hands moved up your sides and squeezed your tits, and he smirked against you as you cursed his name.

You finally reached and took his dick and licked the tip tasting his precum. You smirked against it as you began to lick and suck it like she had the popsicle earlier. Delightful obscenities streamed from your mouth between licks.

"Steve," you hummed. "You taste so sweet," you said before taking all of him in, and you began to bob your head up and down as you wrapped your hand around his dick and moved it in unison with your mouth. He was thick, but you fit him all the way in.

"Y/N," Steve groaned, pushing his hips up against your mouth. "Wanna be in you," he said in a rough voice. You pull your mouth away, and Steve moves to lay you onto your back, his hands on both of your sides as he looks deep into your eyes and slides effortlessly inside you.

"Fuck," he says as he rubs a thumb over your clit. "S'Tight," he says as he pushes in, filling you to the hilt. You run your hand through his blond locks, pulling on it slightly as you pull his lips down to yours. He feels so good inside you. You can't even say anything at first; a string of curses leaves before you can muster the strength to say his name.

"Steve," you moan. "You're so good," you finally can say, pulling him closer with your legs. He smirks and kisses you and begins to fuck you faster and harder as you pull on his hair. Something about hearing you praising him opens something up inside Steve, and he smirks as he pulls your head, so you were looking right into his eyes. He presses his thumb to your clit as he pounds inside your pussy, and you moan his name over and over.

"Relax, sweets, just relax," he says, moving his finger up to your mouth.

He runs it along your lips, and you lean your head and take his finger, sucking your juices from it.

"That's it, sweets. Keep being good for me," he says as a smile spreads to his lips.

"Such a precious little slut you are," he says against your ear. That's one thing he can't look you in the eyes and say, and he feels you pulling him tighter and closer, your moans and curses getting louder as you pull his head back to face you. You kiss him, and he rests his forehead against yours and moans into your lips.

"Keep being good for me. Yeah, sweet thing, just relax," he said, his lips brushing softly against yours.

"Are you ready?" He murmurs. "You're doing such a good job. I can't wait to fill you up," he says, holding your hips close as he takes a few more long and hard thrusts before you come undone and your feet dig into his calves.

"You feel incredible," he groans and looks deep into your eyes. "You want me to cum inside you, don't you? Of course, you do," he says, running his fingers back over your lips and groaning as you take them back into your mouth.

"Stevie," you murmur. "Fill me up," you say, sucking his fingers, and he groans as he quickens his hips and fills you with his cum.

He lays there for a few minutes, placing sweet little kisses along your shoulders and to your neck. When he pulls out of you, you feel an emptiness inside you and smile as he smiles down at you, resting his elbow onto the mattress and his head onto his hand. He gives you the cutest little smile. His face softens, and he looks down at you with those boyish blue eyes.

"Hope I was good," he hums and kisses you as you giggle and run your fingers gently through his hair as he lays his head on your chest.

"Very good," you hum and smile as you kiss his lips. "Such a good boy," you hum.

How It's Going/Ended

You pace in your apartment as you look up at the clock on the wall. You jump slightly as there's a knock on the door. You walk over towards the door and look out of the peephole and see Bucky running his vibranium fingers through his now shorter hair, the hair that you had cut the night before.

He was holding the bag from the store that he had picked up, an order that you had made online, so he wouldn't know what it was. You opened the door and took the bag from him, and hugged him tightly as you let out a long sigh that you were holding in.

"Now, are you going to tell me what's up, doll?" He asked, stepping in. He and you had become close once Steve had chosen to go back to be with Peggy. He spent more time at your apartment than his own, finding your couch much more comfortable than his floor.

"I'm late, Bucky," you whisper, looking down at the floor. "You know it's late," you say, looking up into his blue eyes. You can feel the tears coming to the corner of your eyes. You sit down beside him, and his eyes look right at yours.

What you and Bucky had, it just happened. Naturally, a few kisses here and there, you both vented about Steve leaving to be with a woman he had only kissed once. Steve had told you that he loved you, that you made him happy, and then he left not only you but his best friend to go back in time to be with Peggy Carter.

Bucky had wanted to tell Steve that he was free, that his mind was now under his control, but he had cornered him before he had the chance and told him he was going to be with Peggy. He didn't even tell you goodbye. Bucky had to do that. He had to tell you that your boyfriend had chosen to leave you behind to be in another time with another woman. He took your hands in his, pulled you into his lap, and gently took your face with his fingers.

What you and Bucky had now, it happened naturally. Little stares here and there, he asked if he could hold your hand. The first kiss happened while watching The Wizard of Oz. While you and Bucky had sex, you had been extra careful, so you knew that the baby belonged to Steve if you were pregnant.

"Whatever that test says," he whispers with his blue eyes locked on your face. "I'm going to be right here," he says, and you lose all control, and the tears began to fall as you lean into his hand that was on your cheek. You nod, and he leans, kissing down each of your cheeks, then your lips as he wraps an arm around you.

"I don't deserve you, Buck," you say as he wipes your tears.

"Doll, if there's anyone that doesn't deserve anyone it's me," he smiles up at you as your hands move to his face. Bucky had learned that most hands were built to crush or destroy. Most had handled his body like a minefield. But yours, yours felt like the gentle flow of spring; kind on his skin and delicate. "I love you, Doll," he said, leaning his forehead against yours. "And I'll love this baby and raise it like it's mine if it's what you want to do," he says and smiles as you close the space between you and him and softly kiss his lips.

"I love you too, Buck," you whisper and smile against his lips. "I love you so much," you say against his lips.

It was then that you realize just how easy it came off of each of your lips. It wasn't like that with Steve, and Bucky was sitting there so in love with you that he was willing to raise a child that was his best friend and not his to show you just how much he meant it.

"I'm going to go take it," you whisper, and you feel his lips on yours once more before finally you pull away and walk towards the bathroom. You read the test a few times before peeing on the stick and waiting for the results to show up. It was one of those that just said "pregnant" or "not pregnant" you bit at your lip and heard Bucky walking behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist. You look up at him as the timer on your phone went off, and you lay your head on his black tee.

"Want me to look at it, doll?" He whispers, and you look up at him, slowly nodding your head. He lifts the test and reads the word "Pregnant" off to you.

Earlier, you thought you were going to cry if you read that word. But when you see the love-filled eyes of Bucky Barnes looking at you before he leans down and kisses your stomach, and you play with his hair with a giggle, nothing but happiness and pride exist inside you.

It is at that moment that you realize that while you had been given Steve's heart, it wasn't the heart that's meant to love you. That heart belonged to James Buchannan Barnes.

Tagging:

@syntheticavenger @bitchassbucky @belladonnabarnes @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd @onceuponabarnes @fairyevans @balenciagabucky @honeysucklesteve @faeryloki @fuckandfluff @bibbidibobbidibucky @buckyblues @buckyssimp @mickey-henry @fluffycutecevans @bloomingbucky @midnightf @fallinforevans @stucky-on-spiderman @lokiscollar

[cheelduh]

How to Not Kill a Ginger (High School Au!)

Part 5 to the series hehehe

Parts: 1 2 3 4

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Synopsis: Childe’s stomach stirs when you take care of him, and he’s not sure if it’s because of his major crush on you or just plain old diarrhea.

Warnings: Swearing. Graphic descriptions involving the true idiocy of teenage boys.

Words: Abt 2.6k

Note: Sorry I sort of half assed this. I have big ideas for the next part tho ✨😮‍💨

If there's one thing you're sure of, it's that Teucer knows how to throw one hell of a tantrum.

Him and his brother, Anthon, under your watch, manage to get into a petty squabble that's been airing for the last fifteen minutes. You've done everything, from offering candy to promising an extra hour on the switch, but your efforts do not bear fruit.

What did you tell Childe again? Oh yeah, that babysitting kids was a breeze. Apparently it's not a breeze. Maybe something more like a shart. A chunky, messy one at that.

"Listen dude," You reason to Anthon, the oldest of the bunch gently. "Where did you hide his toy?"

Anthon sticks a tongue out at you, and you nearly cry at the intensity of the insult. "Not telling."

Your patience runs thin.

"C'mon Anthon," Tonia lectures from her chair on the table like the godsend she is. "Just give him his toy back. You're being so annoying." She's taking the words right out of your mouth.

"Not until he apologizes!" Anthon crosses his arms, huffing. "He ate my cheese string!"

"There are more cheese strings!" You exclaim, opening the fridge to prove your point. "I'm sure Teucer's sorry for taking yours. Just pick another one."

"But it's not the same! He took the last cheddar and mozzarella one, now there are only mozzarella ones left." He speaks in between Teucer's wails. You wonder if this is a daily occurrence.

Tonia sighs, gets up from her chair, and hands the eldest her cheese string. "Just take this and give him his toy back."

Almost immediately, Anthon reaches a hand behind the tv table and pulls out the miniature Mr. Cyclops, then throws it point blank at Teucer's feet.

Teucer wails louder.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, shoulders sagging under the stress of being a temporary teenage mother.

Then you take a deep breathe, voice booming over Teucer's cries, Anthon's grumbling, and the clicking of Tonia's tongue. "Let's make a cake!"

Everything in the room stills. Even Teucer's loud cries comes to a halt, and he inhales so sharply that the streak of snot over his lip goes right back into its origin.

You wince inadvertently.

"Poggers!" Anthon cheers, and his siblings join in, laughing and clapping in excitement.

Tonia's eyes widen in confusion when she briefly pauses from her rally. "Wait a minute. What are we celebrating? We can't bake a cake for no reason! It won't taste nearly as good."

Everyone stops to ponder.

Then you snap your fingers in realization, and the kids huddle around you. "How about a 'get well better' cake for your big brother?"

They erupt in cheers again, but you shush them gently, wink an eye for extra measure. "We have to be quiet! He won't get better if we wake him."

The three nod in understanding and begin shushing each other, failing to conceal their giggles.

As you watch them making their way into the kitchen, bounce in their steps, you can't stop the warm smile that reaches your eyes.

That smile soon becomes a frown of horror when Anthon cracks an egg over Tonia's head.

-

The cake is not half as bad as you thought it would be initially. Between mixing the ingredients and ceasing the kids minus Tonia from being menaces to society, you were able to find middle ground.

Eventually Anthon found interest in finding ways to lick the batter whenever you turned around, and Teucer found comfort in your left leg, latching onto it as if it were a life line.

Just like how Venti latches onto his stupid little bottle of wine disguised as a water bottle. Seriously, you’ve never talked to him sober, and at this point are afraid of what’s he’s like lucid.

Tonia had been the only one taking things seriously for the most part, except for the sprinkles-to-icing ratio. She drowned the entire cake in sprinkles, the mere sight adding on the ghost of an ache in your teeth.

It looks like twilight sparkles took a fat dump on it.

"Okay besties," You inwardly curse yourself for giving into Gen-Z vocabulary as you brush your hands on the apron. "I think we've done a pretty decent job."

"It looks so pretty!" Tonia grins widely, eyeing the edible pearls she strategically placed. She quickly strikes down a finger Anthon tried to poke into the icing, with the accuracy of a true warrior.

You shudder at the thought of Childe teaching her how to stab someone with safety scissors.

"Can we add candles?" Teucer asks, but Tonia clicks her tongue in distaste.

"It's not a birthday cake." She crosses her arms judgementally. The power in her glare reminds you of La Signora, strangely enough.

You ruffle his copper coloured locks anyways, and his grip on your thigh tightens. "We can add candles if you want Teucer."

He nods his head and snuggles deeper into the side of your leg. Your heart warms up considerably.

After the candles are poked in, you try to shrug him off. "C'mon dude, just for five minutes. You don't want me to drop the cake before your brother can get a bite do you?"

Reluctantly, he obliges, and runs off to help Tonia collect utensils to take up to Childe's room.

Anthon's on door duty, kicking away any toys that serve as obstacles in your way like a professional soccer player.

Once you four make it up the stairs in front of the designated room, Anthon doesn't bother knocking. He barges in like he owns the place, chin up high and a signature smirk on his face that he probably learnt from his older brother.

Childe fumbles awake, kicking the air whilst in shock by the chaotic sound of the door hitting the wall and Teucer screaming "Happy Birthday!" at the top of his miniature sized lungs as he runs in to plop right on top of his older brother.

His bewildered expression soon turns into something of a loving smile as he begins to process what is happening, eyes lighting up despite the deep bags that frame them.

Tonia places the plates on his side table, right next to the empty soup bowl you placed there earlier. She climbs up onto the bed as well to join in on the hug.

Anthon approaches at last, hands in his pockets as he coolly acknowledges his older brother. Instead of a bone-crushing hug like the other two are indulging in, his opts for a fist bump that Childe happily reciprocates.

Then finally, between the shield that are his siblings, his cerulean eyes land on your near the doorway, then trail down to the cake in your oven-mittened hands. He averts his gaze back to your own, and grins so wide his cheeks start to throb.

"Big brother! We made you cake." Teucer moves his head from his chest to face him. "So you can get better."

Childe's laughs ring in your ears, but you don't shy away from the sound. It's a pleasant, something that you wish to hear more of in the near future. Sure enough he laughs a lot at school, but the genuineness of it at home, surrounded by his siblings, stirs something deep within you.

"How thoughtful of you." He ruffles his hair, then his eyes widen as he ushers the two off of him. "You guys can't be near me! I don't want you to fall ill as well."

"But-but how will we feed you the cake without getting close to you?" Tonia frowns, and her two brothers nod in unison.

You chuckle lightly, approaching the bed with the cake in your hands. "I'm sure he has enough strength to feed himself. The hugs and kisses surely must've energized him."

To be honest, Childe's all green in the face and the last thing on his mind would be to indulge in the cake. You understand the feeling all to well. With his nose clogged up, throat all sore, there's no way he'll stomach it. It took a lot of nagging on your part to get him to finish the soup earlier as well.

He blows the candles anyways, clapping along his siblings and letting Tonia drop a fat chunk of the golden cake onto his plate. You find it endearing, regrettably so. His dedication to keeping their dreams is admirable in more ways than you can count.

This is the same guy that wears meme shirts to school, topped off with douchey sunglasses to give him a pristine vibe. The same guy that punches holes in walls like a Kyle. The very boy that flexes his toned biceps in-front of you during lunch time, successfully ruining your appetite.

"Wait a minute..." Childe inspects the cake closely, narrowing in on the candles. "Why is there an eleven?"

Teucer scratches his neck sheepishly. "Those were the only candles we had left."

After another short-lived laugh, Childe manages a bite as everyone stares in expectation, the sound of a tight crunch enveloping the room, making you grimace in secret. If Childe feels like puking out his guts right now, he's doing a hell of a job hiding it from his darling siblings.

You're glad nobody forces you to take a bite, or it would've been a double homicide right then and there.

Soon enough, one by one the children file out of the room, satisfied with their visit. The reality is that they don't want to miss an episode of backyardigans.

Once they leave, you approach him with a napkin. He gets the gist, spitting out the remnants of the cake you slaved over for about two hours.

"Colour me impressed." You snort, moving the cake aside so you can take a seat on the open space next to him. "How're you feeling?"

"Amazing." He exclaims, eyes red like a crackhead's, nose runny, with goosebumps kissing his pale skin. He sure does look...amazing.

"Cool." You say, abruptly getting up. "I'm gonna vibe with the kid—"

His hand shoots out from underneath the blanket, clammy palms wrapping around your wrist to keep you locked in place. You gulp in anticipation.

"You kissed me." Childe reminds you, eyes twinkling in mischief, a vicious grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

You try not to choke on your words. "You have circumstantial evidence at most." No attempts are utilized to pull away from him.

He raises a teasing brow, and you give in because the tension is thick. Thicker than the tension between Albedo and Kaeya when the latter shamelessly unzips his front to show more of his biddies. You have no idea why he hasn’t been dress coded yet.

"Fine." You snap out of your impure thoughts, and huff out, frustrated all over. "I kissed you on the cheek."

"Still a kiss though."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. Also, cute nails." He points out, hand moving down to grasp your fingers. The act is intimate, his caress gentle and caring. Despite his brash, violent personality, he shows you a completely different side to him that hatches butterflies in your stomach.

"Thanks." You show off the bright jewels on your index. "You have a real nail technician in the house."

Tonia has some serious talent.

When he taps one of the jewels, you slap his hand away. "Careful there dude. These cost me a fortune."

His chuckles die down and he smiles again, but this time apologetically. "They didn't trouble you too much did they? I know they can be loud."

"I like loud." You answer him truthfully. "They're fun to be around. Not nearly as chaotic as you."

He blinks in mock offence, eyes narrowing shrewdly. "You come into my house, talk to my siblings, and have the nerve to insult me? Right after taking advantage of me?"

"If you don't shut up, I'll also have the nerve to rip you a new one." You reply dryly with the innocent curl of your lips.

"Bet."

You're about to lunge at him and scream a string of obscenities that no one has ever heard of before, but the Archons are listening and you don't want his siblings to grow up without someone to look up to. Wait a minute—scratch that. You'd be doing them a favour if you wiped his existence right here and now.

You have a fragile heart though. So you sigh, and grab a fistful of sheets in both hands instead.

Childe's grin turns into a petrified scowl.

"Oh no," He pleads, weakly fighting you back. "Have mercy! Please!"

You have loads of mercy. Just not enough for him.

When you have him wrapped in a successful bundle, Childe can’t help but beam, laying limp in his confines.

“What are you smiling about?” You inquire, pulling out the medicine from his box, pausing momentarily in shock. “Wait a minute, don’t tell me you’re into these things you freak.” Head snaps up so fast you nearly suffer from whiplash.

He’s about to answer you but his words turn into a fit of shallow coughs.

“I’m into whatever you’re into.” Childe’s shrug is nonchalant. “Even if that means I have to be tied up. Kinky by the way.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you hold the spoon up. The dark reddish medicine swirls in deep hues.

“Shut up and open your mouth.”

“Girlie, I don’t think you understand how contradicting that statement is.”

You momentarily wonder if it’s too late to abort yourself.

—

Childe awakens at the crack ass of night, sweat slick, sticky all over, tousled hair sticking to his forehead. He’s a panting mess, eyes darting around the dark room, inhaling, exhaling, mind in a haze from the fever. Gaining somewhat of a grip on reality, he fumbles around to turn on his lamp, throat parched and in need of water.

When he manages to find the switch, he recoils at the brightness, adjusting to the sudden change in his vision. On his side table, there’s a bologna sandwich tucked safely in plastic wrap, a glass of room temperature water, and a bottle of painkillers.

His eyes disregard most of the things, finding interest in the bright pink sticky note next to the painkillers. Unable to ignore the dryness of his throat and the pounding of his head, he quickly gulps a pill down with most of the water, instantly feeling the relief of hydration.

Then, he pounces on the note, giddiness overtaking him despite the pang in his muscles, and the general feeling of absolute shit.

I had to leave. Don’t worry about your siblings, they’re all tucked in and fine. Except for Anthon maybe. Apparently he’s mildly lactose intolerant and thought it was a good idea to overdose on chocolate milk when I was busy with Teucer. Anyways, get better soon stupid.

— Y/N

He safely tucks the note under his pillow, edges of his lips turned upwards, warmth flooding his veins when he takes another look around his surroundings.

The room itself is cleaned, floor cleared from the initial clutter and the cool shiny collector’s knives he buys off of Amazon safely hung over the wall, not littered on his desk like they usually are.

The homework he was supposed do, but most likely wouldn’t, is already completed, stacked neatly atop each other.

Childe swears his heart bursts in his chest, exploding into tiny particles that overheat his entire body.

There’s no way in hell a few days worth of homework is gonna bring his failing mark up, but then again it’s the thought that counts.

While the sandwich is catered to his nausea, bland and plain for easy digestion, an easy fill, it’s the best meal he’s ever had in his life.

[ofmythsandmadness]

to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)

[mirror-vicit-omnia]

Ya know what? F*ck it. DMC Heathers!AU where Dante is Jason Dean but never tries to blow up the school or murder anybody and the reader is Veronica.

Dante has an adoptive jackass dad, Big Blood Dean. Sparda is in hell and Eva is dead. Vergil is a missing person's case no one can solve. Big Blood Dean adopted him for the money and drags Dante all across the map with his shady deconstruction company.

The reader is in the same situation as veronica, it goes to canon. They get an in with the Heathers, there's probably a Martha involved.

Fight For Me. Just imagine Dante kicking ass. Those jocks wouldn't stand a chance in a million years.

I like the West End performance for all this.

Dante doesn't quote Baudelaire (if this was Vergil instead of Dante, yes he would have)

Reader: "Okay, don't just drop a snappy one-liner and then walk away! Excuse me? I didn't catch your name?"

Dante, all devil-may-care swagger: "Well, I didn't throw it."

If you think Jason Dean was a good fighter, you should see dante. He's always finding places to train with his sword and picking fights to keep sharp. Yep, he still has demonic powers and demonic heritage and a demonic sword.

He's been dragged to 10 different high schools. Now, Dante is the kind of guy who can just drop everything, pick up and go, if it weren't for the fact that he's adoptive dad sucks. Yeah, he's asking himself these days why he didn't just bail sooner.

He probably tried to run away when he was younger and the cops found him. Even young little Dante knew not to let anyone know about his demon heritage I guess. I don't know.

Anyway, enough logic!

The reader and Dante do not cause the death of Heather chandler. Maybe they think they did, cuz Dante still made the joke of poisoning Heather, and the mugs still got switched up, but later on after the entire world thinks Heather Chandler died a saint, the reader tells Dante that she doesn't think whatever Heather drank was what killed her.

Of course, the body is gone and so is any evidence that could have told them otherwise.

Meanwhile, Heather Duke rises in red and Kurt and Ram insist that they slept with the reader and did drugs.

Dante picks the reader up when they fall apart crying. He does set up the plan of baiting the jocks to the cemetery at dawn. But he's actually planning to knock them out and do some crazy embarrassing stuff with them, the kind of immature terror that only Young men can conceive of and inflict on one another.

Chloroform is involved. Dante packs his gun for safety. He's not a demon Hunter yet, but he knows what's out there, and there's no way he's walking into a cemetery without one weapon at least.

So, the jocks were probably going to wake up naked and tied up on a monument in the Town square or a landmark for everyone to see. It might even make the papers, since this town is so small. Dante would fleece them for their money, and encourage the reader to do the same.

"Hey, how about we divvy it up? One for you, one for me. One for you, and one, two for me- Ow! Fine, whatever, take what you want!"

But what was meant to be a life ruining prank goes horribly wrong. They got Ram, but Kurt's streaking through the graveyard in his skivvies.

Dante sprints after him. "Don't worry, I'll get him back!"

Funny. Kurt should be here. Dante knows how fast a human can run. He checks behind the tombstones, but the jock simply isn't here. Like he just disappeared.

There's a shift in the air. Dante stands still. Even for a cemetery, it's too quiet. Not peaceful. Tents. Restless. Dante's just trotting back when he knows. The reader feels something, too, that pricking in the hind brain that sets the hairs standing. Dante flicks back the red tails of his duster and pulls out his gun.

Reader: "Woah! Are those guns real?!"

Dante flexes his bicep: "'Course they are, babe!"

Reader: "No! I mean th-!"

Bang! A murder of crows take to the air. The only thing more unnerving than the mist and the gunshot is the cold hard gleam in Dante's eye.

And something in the tombstones growls.

Basically, there's probably some small hellgate in the area. Weak demons are leaking through.

The plot turns away from Heather's and fake suicides and mental illness into an '80s horror slasher flick in which Dante and the reader survive and work together to break the hell gate. Dante's dad might end up dead in the process, not by his hands but just because. Alternatively, Dante decides that he's turning 18 in a couple of months and soon the law won't be able to chase after him. He doesn't know what he's going to do with his life, but he sure as hell isn't letting big blood Dean drag him anywhere anymore.

Either way, it's implied that Dante finds his calling through this story.

And becomes a demon hunter.

Demons might have been possessing people or killing people and making it look like suicides so they can drain the humans of their blood when they're brought to the morgue. A bunch of lesser demons serving a relatively stronger demon.

It serves a similar effect as the sensationalization of fake suicides in the musical's plot. Only now the reader forged the suicide notes and set up the fake suicides in order to protect them both. There's no way the law was going to buy the truth.

The reader still has to deal with Heather duke, Heather mcnamara, the horrors of the hierarchy of the high school. They deal with Miss Fleming and the assembly. Is Heather McNamara from actually committing suicide, but then there's still a demon attack that they have to somehow protect both of them from. And this is taking place in the '80s, so there are no cell phones and the landline is cut.

The hellgate was dormant under the boiler room in the high school.

If Dante got possessed, we could still have some Dead Girl Walking (Reprise) and the reader shoots him but it's Dante so he survives!

Whatever was possessing him was nowhere near as good at fighting as a human.

Cherry flavored slushies. Dante drinks cherry flavored slushies, and when he sings I thought emotional part where he accidentally reveals thoughts of suicide, he tries to brush it off with humor, as always.

Still our favorite chaotic half demon.

Cherry flavored slurpees and pizza and teenage detective work that dpuble as dates. Dante doesn't give a s*** and just wants to be pointed in the direction of the fight. The reader is actually doing research and carefully trying to piece together what is going on. Dante provides whatever he knows on demons. And hell.

Dante: "Yeah, my dad is the legendary demon Sparda. My mom and brother died in a demon attack on our house and that's why I'm in foster care."

Reader: "Okay... Sounds fake, but okay..."

Dante gets shot right in the chest. Reader freaks out, but still manages to blow up the hell gate with a bomb and thermals. To collapse the whole gymnasium, which is empty.

They crawl out of the dust. Shaking, a lot to process all at once.

Then there's a whistle. And impressed whistle. The reader looks up. It's Dante, standing strong and straight and waving at dust like he's not squirting blood out of the hole in his chest. "Now, that was some fireworks! Remind me to invite you to my next birthday party."

And that was when the reader believed that he was actually half demon.

Plot twist a faculty member opened the hell gate and it's Miss Fleming the hippie.

I wanted to feel more 80s than it sounds here, and other than that that's all I've got.

Edit 8/20/21

The reader wears the blue Heathers uniform. Short grey skirt and all.

Or if you don't like skirts, then trousers. Tight, flattering trousers. Dante loves to watch how they pull in all the right places.

The two of you are hanging out upstairs in his room, talking about the deaths. The read is worried, fretting over the mystery, flipping through pages in their notebook; Dante sprawls next to them, half hanging off the bed, head in their lap, yawning. The front door opens and bangs shut. Dante springs out of his seat. Suddenly, he wants to get out if the house.

"Hey, do you want some ice cream? Dairy Queen, strawberry sundae, you and me. C'mon!"

Big Blood Dean stomps upstairs. "Dante! Get yer worthless ass in gear! We gotta a job, you gotta go on a supply run-"

Dean barges right on in. Looks at Dante. Looks at the reader. "You got company."

"S'there a problem?" Dante sounds cool. Too cool. He's on his feet and wandering about the room, like he's bored. The reader tenses. Dean is huge, but he somehow looms beyond his size.

Dante does his careless waltz. The reader can't take their eyes off Dean. Like a frightened animal. How can Dante expose his back like that?!

But by getting up, he's put himself between you and his adoptive parent.

"Get rid of them," orders Dean.

Shrugging, Dante pats your knee. "Alright, c'mon, babe." He leads you by the elbow to the window. You still keep an eye on Dean. He's glaring.

Dante throws open the window and bows. "After you!"

"Um, the front door is...?"

He's not serious.

"Go on!"

He's serious.

Hesitant, you stick a leg through and let him push you the rest of the way out. Then he slips out, too

"You come back here, boy-!"

"See ya, old man!" Dante slams the window shut.

"Is he going to lock you out?" You ask as you shimmy down the drain pipe.

"He can't. You broke my window lock."

Dante buys two Sundaes because he doesn't want to share; after he polishes off his, he's snatching bites of yours.

He used the "Nevada account."

(Update 9-20-21)

And this whole story would be even better with JD!Virgil instead.

Virgil didn't have time yet to harden from the demon attack before Big Blood Dean adopted him.

This is all much the same as with JD!Dante, except that Virgil gets darker (not that Veronica!Reader knows how bad it is; they didn't accidentally murder Heather together) carries a gun and everything.

In the big final fight, Virgil runs out of ammo. Demons have cornered him. It's the house, his Mom, Dante, all over again.

One blink later, the demons are all dead, slashed open. Virgil shakes as he yanks on the handle in his grip, and pulls out the blade from a soft belly.

Yamato. How did it get here? These demons are unrecognizable, like dead carrion at a butchers. Did I do this? He thinks, distant and fuzzy, as he watches his hands like watching a film as they flip his sword.

Humans are weak. Humans are wretched.

The reader's smile passes through his mind.

... Perhaps not all humans are... Deserving of death.

They're just weak. Virgil flicks gore off the sword, and heads to his house, looking for Big Blood Dean.

He didn't like the way Dean had scared you with the "Norwegian in the Boiler Room" talk, anyway.

(Spoilers: Dean doesn't live. And Virgil loves you, but this was mostly for him. It's the tipping point, and afterwards he chooses his demonic heritage over humanity. But less "kill them all" and more "purge those who dare cross our path- but don't tell Reader, they get upset easily." What they don't know can't hurt them- and you have Virgil to thank.)

You two definitely run away together at the end. Off to explore knowledge of demons and Hell and whatever else.

You want to seal off the Hellgates that are being all over the world.

Virgil wants to level-grind.

It's couples-time, really.

[xlovely-daydreamsx]

an angel on my shoulder and the devil in my heart (yandere!hawks x reader) ch3

Summary: You train a bit with Hawks and ask some serious questions.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, ns///fw-ish, more tags to be added

Note: thank you all SO much for the love and support on this fic! i’ll try to keep updates pretty regular. btw, this one is a bit longer than usual, so i hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 2 here!

This is so awkward, you think as you ride the elevator with Hawks, your back pressed against the corner. He looks at you, slightly bemused.

"Be honest," he says, pulling himself back together and giving you one of his signature smiles, "were you a fan of me before this?"

"Of course," you don't even have to think about it, "isn't every hero student a fan of yours?" His spot on the leaderboard paired with his constant publicity in magazines and news, it's hard not to find yourself interested by him. Hawks laughs, unamused.

"As if," he stares down at you, his gaze shifting over you like a machine reading a barcode, "but why do you say that?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're the number three hero for a reason, and it's not just because of your good looks."

"You think I'm good looking?" He smirks and you wave it off, cursing the heat you feel on your face.

"You know what I mean; you've got your persona down pact. Teenage girls like you because you're pretty, teenage boys like you because of your quirk," he tilts his eyebrow at you but you avert your gaze, "the adults like you because you tell the truth, even if it hurts," you finally look him in the eye, "and anyone who says they don't like you is just afraid because you say exactly what they're thinking when they'd rather ignore it." He looks almost... shocked. He knew you were good, or at least that you had the potential to be, but he realizes now that maybe you're a bit smarter than he gave you credit for in the first place.

He takes a step forward, and another, and another until he's in your space, too close for comfort and too precise to overlook as an accident.

"You really know me, kid," he says, and you're almost tired of how many times his breath against your skin has made you shiver, "but what do you think that persona covers up?" He asks. Your breath is caught in your throat- he looks scary. His eyes are big, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, that grin of his turned into a smirk as he watches you flinch back slightly. He's intimidating, that much you're sure of, but you can't understand why a thing like that would make your stomach flip like it does or ignite a flame somewhere deep inside you, an itch you can't scratch.

Either way, you really have no idea how to respond to his question. When he's Hawks, he's straightforward but witty, charming yet provocative. You can't pin him down as one thing and he doesn't play one role more than the other. He rocks the boat, but just enough to let in a bit of water, remind the people of the ocean underneath, but why? Who is he when he isn't being a hero?

Thankfully, you don't have to answer him. The door to the elevator pings and they slide open, letting Hawks step away from you and out the door, presumably leaving behind whatever the hell that conversation was as well. You follow him wordlessly, obediently.

"This is one of the training floors in this facility," he gestures to the room around you. It's a basement leveled floor, so any light in the room comes from the overbearing white light of the LEDs above you. Two of the walls consist solely of mirrors, while the others house practice weapons, benches, and informational posters. The floors are tile, almost completely masked by padded mats. The whole room looks so pristine, you wonder if it's ever been used.

"Does anybody else even work here?" You finally ask. You've been in the building for almost a half an hour and you've only seen a single person other than Hawks. Floor after floor of office space, yet not a single desk or work station was taken by a person. Frankly, it's unsettling. Hawks just laughs.

"Of course they do, (Y/N); I just gave them the day off," his brow furrows in annoyance, like it's such a stupid question for you to ask.

"Why?" You don't bother to call out the casual use of your first name.

"Didn't want anyone getting in our way on your first day." He shrugs. "This doesn't really matter though, does it? We're wasting training time." You know Hawks is right; there's no reason for you to be upset by that- he just wanted you to have an easy first day. So why do you feel so unsettled?

Hawks sends you away to change into your hero costume, taking a seat on the bench as he waits for your return. Oh, how he'd love to accompany you, slowly slide your uniform off of your perfect body, let his hands caress your smooth skin. And your feathers- immaculate little things- soft as cotton and silky smooth, perfect for running his hands through. Of course he noticed the way it made you shake, your breath coming out in shallow puffs as you tried to stay calm. Really, you should just give in to him; he knows you must have a crush on him, what, with that speech you gave him in the elevator practically professing your love for him. 

Would you like him, he wonders, if you knew the real him? Hawks would never think the things Keigo does, would never watch you through your window or follow you home. But isn't it endearing to know how much he cares about you? Would you think so? He really just wants what's best for you, and the best thing for you is to be by his side.

This isn't really like him, though- he's never latched on to someone quite like he has with you, but you're special, he rationalizes; you're kindred spirits, his angelic pair, his soulmate. Your gold and white wings were crafted by God to carry you to him and no further. You're not Icarus, no, your wings won't melt away, but if you fly too far away from home, away from Hawks, they certainly might break. Or, at least, he'll have to break them for you.

"Hawks- uh, Mr. Hawks?" Your timid voice pulls him away from his thoughts. You're standing in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest, and Hawks can't help but give you a once-over. Your hero outfit is a bit odd, in his opinion- it's more stylized than most he's seen. Your top consists of what looks like a golden breastplate, and your shoulder pads, elbow pads, and knee pads are all fashioned in the same greek armor style. Underneath your armor top is a white tunic, which moves downward towards your skirt and cuts off in the back, leaving the front a bit shorter than the rest. Your legs are protected by a chainmail pair of leggings. On the top of your head rests a golden laurel wreath, with a white wing protruding from each side. 

Cute, cute, cute, Hawks thinks to himself, a smile back on his face, my own little greek goddess.

"I'd tell you it's just Hawks, but hearing you stumble around 'mister hawks' is almost too entertaining to pass up." You have the audacity to look annoyed at him; it's hardly intimidating, "hey, if it's that upsetting, you could always call me Keigo." His smug face stares up at you from its place rested in his hands and you scoff.

"Thanks, but I like to keep the professional titles for at least a day."

He shrugs, "your loss," and stands up from his bench. "I think we should spar first, just to give me an idea of your skill." He wrings his neck and stretches out his shoulders, giving them a little shake.

"Sounds good to-" your cut off as a red feather whizzes past your face and you duck to the ground. It lodges itself neatly into the wall behind you. "Are you kidding me?"

"What? I said we're sparring." Okay, maybe it's because he's a little upset you won't call him Keigo, but he did technically give you a warning.

"That could've hit me!" You reply as you push yourself back up and into a fighting stance.

"Yeah, but it didn't," another feather shoots past you and you easily move out of the way, circling Hawks, "and do you think a villain is gonna give you a heads up? No," another, and then another feather and you barrel roll, one of them narrowly missing your face, "so now you're more prepared! You should be thanking me."

"I think you talk too much," you reply simply. You move up into a crouch and push forward, aiming to get close enough to at least get a hit on Hawks. He watches you, slightly bemused and launches another feather, this one sticking into the ground and effectively pinning your skirt, pulling you face forward into the floor with your own momentum. Two more lodge themselves into the sides of your hero suit, keeping you against the ground.

"Well I think," You can hear the smirk in his voice as he comes and nudges you with his foot, "that I just kicked your ass in three seconds.”

"Definitely not one of my best matches," you agree, and he lets up his feathers. 

My poor hero suit, you sigh as you eye the holes, big enough to fit you hand through. Only one day as an intern and you'll already need a patch job.

"I can't say I'm impressed," Hawks offers you a hand and pulls you to your feet, "but I didn't expect you to do well." He laughs at your indignant 'hey,' and continues. "C'mon, you couldn't have thought you'd win against Japan's best hero."

"I didn't know I was fighting All Might." 

"Yeah, yeah," he waves you off. "Do you only fight hand-to-hand?" You nod.

"My quirk isn't built for offense like yours is." Hawks looks you up and down, a hand on his chin as he contemplates.

"Have you considered using a support weapon?" Your eyes go wide. That's actually really smart. "I could talk to our support department about getting something together for you..." he pauses again, thinking, but exclaims, "I can get you a sword and train you; we'll be one of those dynamic duos!" He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. He wants you to be as excited as he is, wants you to at least smile for god's sake. If you've got wings on your back, his sword by your side, and his agency under your belt, there'll be no mistaking who you belong to.

"I'm not sure I'd be any good at that," you look to the ground, a stray hand coming to nervously scratch at your neck. 

"With me as your teacher? You'll be an ace," his hands don't move from their place on your shoulders and he gives them a possessive squeeze, "plus, it'll match your costume."

"...I guess I can try it, then," you comply and he beams, white teeth shining brighter than the sun. You know you'll make a fool out of yourself, you're certain of it, but the way he looks at you makes you feel like it might not matter how bad you are; he'll help you through it. You can't stop yourself from smiling back; you think you made the right decision choosing Hawks as your mentor.

You spend the rest of the afternoon practicing hand-to-hand combat, having your ass thoroughly kicked by Hawks every time. Every time you thought you might beat him, you ended up face first on the mat, Hawks sitting on your back and pinning your arm. 'I win again' he whispered, a little too close for comfort before letting go and helping you up. By the time Hawks elected that you had been beat enough, the sun was already down outside.

"Let me walk you home," Hawks holds the big glass door open for you as you exit, the lights flickering off inside and obscuring his face, "it's a gentleman's duty." You let out a chuckle.

"I don't wanna trouble you-" he raises a hand to silence you.

"It's really no trouble at all, kid," you feel like the conversation is over- Hawks has already made up his mind; he's going to walk you home.

“...alright, then,” you compromise again, following him like a dog down the road.

The streetlights illuminate the both of you as you stroll down the empty roads, your voices carrying in the silence of the night. Hawks has elected this as no-work time, so he asks you silly questions about yourself: what's your favorite color, favorite food, things like that. He seems happy to get to know you, and indulges your own questions about his interests.

He likes when you smile, he decides, as you laugh at one of his jokes. Whenever you notice him staring, you cover your mouth, but your laugh is so pretty and genuine; he can't understand why you would be embarrassed by it. Although, he can't help the twinge in his gut that wants you to save your smiles and your laugh just for him, or the anger that bubbles up when he thinks of someone else getting to see you like this, lit up by the yellow glow of the streetlights. So pretty and all his.

He says goodnight to you at the door, waving to you like he won't be outside your window for the rest of the night.

If you like my work, please consider supporting me on ko-fi!

[flatstarcarcosa]

favors and heists

notes: i gave myself brain worms while roping @dadbodsandbots into my mass effect insert shenanigans by using her mans so I had to shake some of them loose. this turned out to be kinda fun, actually, for a change :3

also tags @jackals-ships while making pspspsps noises

summary: what's the point of your best friend dating a galaxy-renown mercenary if not for the favors you can squeeze out of the deal?

or

zaeed takes a charity case.

ship(s): stubborn goddamn jackasses, cat/digs (boomcat? harcat?)

******

The door alarm has been chiming for four minutes. Pressing the override button on his omni-tool shuts it off for a few scarce seconds, only for whoever is outside to activate it again. Finally, Zaeed gives up on ignoring it and wrenches the damn thing open manually. The metal squeals in protest before the hydraulics correct themselves.

"The hell do you want?" he asks, frowning. Cat stands in the door way with barely contained tears in her eyes.

"My final thesis is due next week and the whole argument hinges on this 18th century painting and-"

"Dooooon't care," Zaeed drawls as he goes to manually pull the door shut again. She lunges forward, getting a shoulder and half a leg across before the safety catch feels an obstruction and stops.

"-and it got stolen and if I have to report it to my boss I'm not only gonna fail the program but I'll never work in this industry again!" she blurts. Zaeed has already turned his back towards her and is cussing at his omni-tool's refusal to force the door shut.

"Don't caaaaaaaaare," he says.

"You gotta help me get it back!" she cries, "That fucking asshole Harkness stole it and if he gets too far I'll never see it again!"

Zaeed stops, shoulders sagging. He holds up a finger and turns.

"When you say Harkness-"

"Yeah, Digger," Cat sniffs. "You know, Captain Boom-"

"Will willingly shoot my other eye out before I call him that, thanks," says Zaeed. He goes silent for a moment, and then lets out a frustrated growl and runs a hand over his face. "All right, fine. But only because I've still got a grudge against that jackass I've been meaning to settle."

She looks up, elation flashing across her face.

"Really?! I mean, I can hire you, too, so-"

Zaeed snorts.

"You don't make near enough to hire me," he says. "Especially not if you want him alive, although honestly, that part isn't up to you." He steps out of sight into the other room, and Cat wanders into the kitchen to blow her nose on a wad of paper towels.

"Where was he last?" Zaeed asks.

"I mean, my office," she calls back. He steps back around the corner, the top half of his armor undersuit hanging around his waist.

"I meant where was he before he stole the painting?"

"Oh!" she pauses. "I...dunno, some hotel down on Silversun."

Zaeed hums, and pulls his arm through the sleeve on his suit. He drags a footlocker over to the sofa and plops down, bending over to unlock the lid.

"How'd Harkness get into your office, anyway?" he asks. "It's not exactly publicly accessible."

"Uh- I...I don't know," she stammers, "he's a thief, that's what he does!"

Zaeed quirks an eyebrow at her as he laces his boots.

"Uh-huh," he says. "And he just happened to have decided to specifically case your office for one painting..."

"Yeah."

"Your office, which is in a moderately secured area in the Citadel Tower," he continues. He raises an eyebrow at her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

"Yeah," she says again, voice tight. "Why?"

"No reason," he says. Motorized armor joints lock into place with mechanical whirring, and she watches him strap a pistol and a sniper rifle in place. "Here's the thing, if he's already jumped ship and left the Citadel, I'm not chasing him all over. This lasts until I decide the amusement isn't worth the lack of money. Matter of fact, you knowing Reese is the only reason I didn't tell you to fuck off and throw you out."

"A fact which I am heavily aware of," says Cat.

"Long as we're on the same page," says Zaeed. "Might as well wait here, I doubt this is gonna take too long."

"Hey," says Cat, "wait a second. How do you know him, anyway?"

Zaeed clicks his tongue.

"Got unlucky enough to be on a job with him once," he says. "Stupid little fuck nearly got me killed. Spent four weeks healing from that."

"Oh," she says.

"Granted, wasn't the same as getting half my face blown off," he adds, "but it was still enough that I've had it in for him ever since."

"You're not actually going to kill him, are you?" she asks. Zaeed shrugs as the door slides open.

"That depends on him, love," he says.

"Oh," she says. Before she can get another word out, Zaeed steps into the hall and leaves her alone. She sighs and sits down on the sofa. "Well, that's just fucking great."

******

It takes less than five hours to track Harkness down. After checking out of his hotel earlier that morning, he'd stuck around the Silversun Strip rather than booking a flight off the Citadel.

For some reason that Zaeed can only chock up to the man being an absolute fucking idiot, he didn't consider that wandering around with a medium sized painting under his arm was going to make him stick out to the residents.

Only on the Silversun Strip would one get away with that without C-Sec getting called and dropping down on your ass. Try it up on the Presidium and every rich asshole with a penthouse would be ringing the emergency numbers for 'suspicious activity' while triple locking their doors.

Tucked away in a back alley and away from the main attractions of the Strip is a little pawn shop run by, who Zaeed assumes, are the only Batarians to have a permanent residence on the Citadel. There's an old fashioned bell hanging above the door and it jingles when he walks through. It catches his attention for a moment, and he glances up at it, wondering where the aliens picked up that detail about human stores.

Behind the sales counter, a bored looking Batarian is standing with his arms crossed over his chest and glowering with all four eyes at the man in front of him.

"Come on mate," says the Australian. He's leaning over the painting, so focused on his attempts at hocking it that he either didn't hear the door bell, or isn't interested enough to turn around. Zaeed catches the gaze of the sales clerk, and holds a finger to his lips.

"I said no," the Batarian growls, looking back at the would-be customer.

"All right, fine, screw giving me what it's worth," the man continues, "we'll settle for 60% and then I can be on me way."

"You think I'm so stupid or naive I don't know stolen merch when I see it?" asks the Batarian. "I know enough about you humans and your squabbles to know there's no amount of credits worth getting involved in this kinda shit.

"Harkness, why don't you do something useful and stop pestering this poor Batarian?" Zaeed asks, interjecting only when he's close enough to Digger Harkness that the sound of his voice makes the man jump. "Bad enough the poor bastard has to walk around looking like that every day of his life, he doesn't need you coming in here and cocking everything up for him."

The Batarian sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Is it asshole human day today and no one told me?" he asks. "Oh wait, I suppose that's every day, isn't it?"

"Goddamn right it is," Zaeed says. Harkness turns around, nervousness clear on his face.

"Zaeed," he says, slowly, "well, I'll be...funny running into you out here, eh?" He reaches behind himself, fumbling his hand across the counter as he searches blindly for the painting. Zaeed is faster, and snatches it out from under him.

"Lets go," he says, gesturing towards the door. "You know why I'm here."

"Aw, c'mon-" Harkness' protest is cut short by Zaeed grabbing his wrists and slapping a pair of electrified cuffs on them. He shoves the man forward, and then tosses a credit chit down onto the counter.

"You see a couple of human males today?" he asks the Batarian. The alien grunts, considering him for a moment before reaching down and snapping up the chit.

"Been a slow day, I haven't seen anybody," he says, shrugging. Zaeed nods.

"Good man," he says. He shoves Harkness towards the door again. "Get moving."

The bell above the door rings as the two leave, and Harkness turns, walking backwards with his arms locked in front of him as he addresses Zaeed.

"Well, I'm simply stumped," he says, "can't for the life o' me figure who I pissed off enough to hire you." Zaeed says nothing, and simply motions with his pistol for him to keep walking.

Harkness faces foward and catches sight of the skycar parked at the end of the alley. It's not the best area to try and make a mad dash for freedom, but that doesn't mean he's not gonna give it a go.

"How'd you even get into the Citadel Tower to get a hold of something like this, anyway?" Zaeed asks, holding the painting up to get a good look at it. He's never understood fuck all about art and it's not one of those especially famous pieces that he'd even recognize anyway, so he doesn't bother theorizing on why it's so important to Cat's thesis.

"Oh, you know," says Harkness, "made a friend."

"Find that hard to believe," Zaeed drawls as he tucks the painting back under his arm.

"Oi, I'm quite suave when I want to be!" Harkness stops walking again, turning with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Though, some people are just easier to woo."

"Yeah, that sounds more like you, doesn't it?" Zaeed narrows his eyes. "Making a mark out of some poor girl that always sees the best in people."

Harkness blinks.

"Hang on," he breathes, "how do you know that? Don't tell me she's the one that hired you!"

"Course not," Zaeed snorts, "like I told her, she can't afford to hire me. This is a favor for a friend."

"Well shit mate! In that case, why don't you an' I work out a deal, yeah?" The grin is back, and Zaeed makes a point of ignoring him as he opens the skycar door and lays the painting in the back seat. "You ain't on an official contract, I see no reason why you an' I as two consummate professionals can't come to some sort of arrangement that benefits us both!"

"There's an exhaustive list of reasons why that won't be happening," Zaeed says, crossing his arms. "At the top of which is simply the fact that I can't goddamn stand you."

"Fair enough," says Harkness, "But Zaeed, come on, mate! As it happens right now, you're not making any money on this! That's a problem for you, and I can fix that real easy. You just slip these bracelets off me, let me be on my merry way, and recoup credits for your time. Anyone asks, I was too slippery to get a hold of, we all move on."

"No," Zaeed says. "Get in the goddamn car before I knock you out and shove you in the trunk."

Harkness groans, and bounces on the balls of his feet in frustration.

"Come on," he says again, "we both know at the end of the day lining your pockets is the only thing you really care about, so why don't you-"

Zaeed lunges faster than a half blind old merc has any right to move, and Harkness lets out a strangled yell as he punches him in the kidney with enough force to knock the wind out of him. He's wheezing as Zaeed shoves him into the alley wall, hanging onto him by the collar of his coat and lifting him off the ground.

"Listen to me, you stupid fucking jackass," Zaeed growls, "I'm not remotely young enough or stupid enough to not know exactly how you got access to Cat's office. That girl is the only person Reese knows that isn't a killer or a junkie or some fucked up combination of both, and the last thing she needs is to be caught up with likes of you and I."

Harkness says nothing as he gasps again, and waits on his lungs to remember how to take in air.

"I care about her well-being for my own selfish reasons because of her proximity to Reese, and I recognize that doesn't put me in a position of dictating to her who she spends her time with," Zaeed continues, "but so help me, you cause so much as a minor inconvenience for her and I will carve out your goddamn eyes, sew your mouth shut and sell you to Batarians as discounted slave labor, are we goddamn clear?"

Harkness manages half of a choked, garbled word and gets his head bounced off the wall for his effort.

"That didn't sound like a yes to me," Zaeed growls.

"Y-yes," he says. Zaeed slams him against the wall once more for good measure before dropping him.

"Get in the goddamn car."

******

The rental apartment Reese and Zaeed have been staying in isn't much to come home to. Far from the worst place they've ever holed up, sure, but that's never been a very high bar to begin with.

Regardless, as he pushes Harkness through the doorway and pauses long enough to set the painting down on an end table, he does reflect on the warm lightning in the corners and the smell of a beef roast being pulled out of the oven.

It's temporary and it's barely big enough for the two of them to move without tripping over each other, but it is home.

"You found it!" Cat appears in the archway to the kitchen, and Reese looks up over the counter. Their eyes glance between Zaeed and Harkness and the painting, and they quirk an eyebrow in his direction. Zaeed responds with a subtle shake of his head.

Later, he mouths, reaching up to undo the clasps on his armor.

"Wasn't too much trouble," he says aloud. "Helps when you're being sent after a goddamn moron. I should take more offers like this, actually."

"Caaaaaat," Harkness purrs. He goes to hold out his arms, and stops when he meets the resistance from the cuffs. She bypasses him entirely to scoop up the painting and make sure it hasn't been damaged.

"You know, on a hunch I looked into something on the way to the Strip," Zaeed says casually. "C-Sec has multiple active bounties on him at the moment. Cashing in on just one of them would likely pay more than, well...whatever it is you even do currently."

Harkness lets out a nervous laugh and looks between Zaeed and Cat. She sets the painting down and regards him for a moment.

"Right now I'm more worried with getting this back before anyone notices it was gone," she says, causing Harkness to puff up slightly. He winks at Zaeed, only to stop at the look the other man sends his way. "It's unlucky for me the building is locked down for the day, though..."

"Sounds to me like you could use someone who knows his way 'round security systems," Harkness offers. Zaeed snorts, and Cat frowns. Silence stretches out for a moment, broken only by the sound of Reese turning on an electric carving knife.

"Okay, fine," Cat says when they've turned the knife back off. "But know that if we get caught, I'm telling them you kidnapped me and I can cry on command."

"Well now you're just talkin' dirty to me," Harkness says.

"Really?" Reese barks from the kitchen. "Some of us still gotta eat tonight."

Zaeed remains silent and utterly unreadable as he taps at his omni-tool. The handcuffs beep a few times before popping open and falling off. Harkness massages at one of his wrists, and manages to ignore the bait when Zaeed shoves into him on the way to the kitchen.

"If we leave now we should make it in and out without too much trouble," Cat says. Reese offers a wave.

"Call me when you get in," they say, "mostly so I know if anyone's gotta kill him later."

"Sure!" says Cat. She tucks the painting safely under an arm, and drags Harkness out into the hall by the collar of his coat. The door beeps as the automatic lock powers on, and Reese turns to lean against the kitchen counter.

"What?" Zaeed asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not."

Reese rolls their eyes and turns their attention back to the roast. "I leave for 20 minutes to get fucking dinner, and I swear to Christ..." they say, trailing off when Zaeed reaches around and snags a slice of beef.

"You do realize she's got absolutely horrid taste in men, right?" he asks. The top of the beer bottle pops with a resounding hssss, and he flicks it across the kitchen into the garbage can.

"Yeah, well, that's just something we got in common, I guess," Reese says.

"Oi," Zaeed protests. He takes a swallow of beer and reaches for another slice of meat, then stops. "Hang on, she can cry on command?"

"Yeah, fucking wild actually," says Reese. They frown. "Why?"

Zaeed is silent for a moment as he takes another sip of beer before answering.

"Goddammit."

[mrsalwayswrite]

Say You’ll Stay - Chapter 7

Fury/Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

We finally meet up with Easy Company!

Tag List: @happyveday​ @alwaysindecemberfeels​ @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes​ @saritanotserena​

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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The morning arrived with a slight fog, bringing a sense of otherworldliness with it. As if ghosts stood along the tree line just watching and waiting in complete silence. Everyone moved with shifty feet and wary eyes, voices staying low. The starting of engines only exasperated the stillness around them. It had been decided, with so many men killed and wounded in the company, the whole group would travel to Haguenau. From there the wounded could be evacuated to a hospital and hopefully replacements sent for those lost. 

 Anna wandered around the tanks, checking in with the other medics and just trying to stay warm. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to keep the wintery cold at bay. A coat taken off a soldier, who no longer needed it, now covered her filthy nurse’s uniform. She tried not to think about wearing a dead man's coat, rather imaging it was a spare. Her legs were still exposed to the elements from the knees down to her short uniform boots, making it impossible to fully warm up as she walked around. 

"Mount up! Let's go!" The call echoed around from several different mouths, stilling the nervous restlessness hanging over the company. 

 The wounded were placed on the tanks to ride since they did not have a truck to transport them anymore. Besides the officers and those in the armored division, all the foot soldiers were forced to continue walking. Not a perfect solution but it was all they afford to do right now. Hopefully they could escape another surprise attack. 

 Ignoring those around her, she made her way towards Fury. Both to keep an eye on the wounded laying or sitting on the tank but to also stick close to the tank's crew. She had woken up that morning, still huddled against Boyd's side, wrapped in Don's leather jacket and the spare blanket from Gordo. They shared what breakfast they could with her before she had to head off and start rounds. Medic Arthur Christianson had taken over lead medic from Joe Hunter. A blow they all felt but this was war and you just learned to keep moving. The two other medics had been courteous enough to her from the beginning so it was not too much of a hardship to work with them. 

 Each medic had chosen a tank to walk next to and keep an eye on its wounded. She had immediately claimed Fury. 

 "Anna!" 

 Looking up, she noticed Boyd staring down at her from his spot on the tank. 

 "What you doin' down there?"

 She glanced around then stared back at him. "Walking." She stated with a casual shrug, not understanding what he was getting at. 

 Grady chuckled from his spot next to Boyd. Smoke curled around his mouth as he exhaled, the cigarette still between his teeth. 

 Boyd rolled his eyes with a deadpan expression. "I see that. Thank you. Why ain't you riding?"

 "Only wounded are riding. I'm fine, Boyd. I don't mind walking." She tried to assure him, a small smile on her face. Hopefully that masked how cold she actually was and the agitated nerves humming throughout her body. She walked a little further towards the front of the tank. Fury only carried five wounded, spread out along its sides. Stopping at a young soldier with a bandage around his head, she touched his leg to gain his attention. "How are you feeling?"

 The brunet opened his eyes, looking down at her from where he reclined on the tank. A shy smile crossed his lips. "My head ain't spinnin' like it was."

 "That's good. Let me know if that changes." Patting his leg, she smiled back at him. The young soldier was one she was particularly concerned about. During the initial explosion, he had been thrown back and landed hard on his head, getting knocked unconscious during the process. Eventually he woke back up but with a bloody head wound. 

 Tucking a few strands of wayward hair behind her ear, she adjusted Joe’s- no, her medic’s satchel across her body. Her heart clenched slightly at the reminder. Her own personal bag had been in the supply truck, now a pile of ash. Her few extra clothing items, her beloved book from home, the few letters she had from her family and friends along with what little money she had been holding onto, all gone. All destroyed in the fire that raged throughout the night as it consumed the supply truck. It hurt more than she thought it would. It was just stuff, but it had helped ground her, remind her of home. Without it, her soul felt slightly adrift. Even as she tried to convince herself it was just stuff, that it was replaceable, that twenty-two men died while she still drew breathe…. she still missed her belongings. 

 "Hey, dollface. Nice legs you got there."

 She pretended to not hear the comment from the lanky soldier sitting on the tank, bandage around his calf. She remembered him. A bullet ricochet hit his calf but he screamed like his guts were being ripped out, then he threatened one of the other medics until he received morphine. 

 "Ah, c'mon, smile. I just gave you a compliment." He called after her, a sleazy smirk on his face. 

 "Hey, shut up." Boyd demanded, having turned to glare at the offending soldier. 

 The arrogant soldier looked over his shoulder at Boyd as if surprised to be called out. "What? Like you can't see them." He snickered, continuing to leer at the nurse. 

 Anna closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Unfortunately, she was used to men like that by now. Even if she hated dealing with them. She had a job to do though. War did not care if the men it wounded were good or bad, kind-hearted or arrogant, gentle or dangerous- it took them all. Her job was to save as many as she could from War's grasp. To allow as many men as she could to return to their families one day. 

 She turned slightly to meet the eyes of the lanky soldier. "Is there something you need, soldier?"

 "Aren't you going to check on me, darling?" He winked at her. 

 In a sudden flurry of movement, Grady roughly shoved the soldier off the tank without preamble. The soldier screamed as he hit the ground, landing on his hurt leg. The sound echoed in the air, bouncing off anything nearby as if to gain momentum in volume. Everyone nearby jumped at the sound, eyes locked on the soldier swearing and rolling on the ground. Anna stared in horror and confusion, a hand over her rapidly beating heart, unsure if she should intervene or stay to the side. Her answer came in the next moment as Grady hopped off the tank to stand between the soldier and Anna. 

 The soldier screamed, grabbing at his leg as he rocked on the ground. "What the fuck was that for?! Christ, I'm wounded, you asshole!" 

 "Yeah, shut the hell up." Grady said, just staring down at the soldier. He turned to look at Anna but never turned his back completely on the soldier. "You good?"

 She nodded mutely, beyond surprised and made quite speechless by Grady's actions. 

 "Coon-Ass! What's going on here?" Don stormed towards them, cigarette hanging from his lips and fire in his eyes. 

 "Nothin', Don. He started talking shit 'bout Anna. I shut him up." Grady shrugged, staring at his commander. A silent understanding seemed to pass between the two. Don gave a curt nod and only after that did he even acknowledge the man on the ground. 

 "You his Sergeant?!" The soldier was yelling, teeth bared like a rabid dog. "He pushed me off the goddamn tank! He can't do that!" 

 "Yeah? Well, sounds like you fucking deserved it." Don pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing the smoke out. His eyes quickly shifted to Anna to scan her quickly before dropping back down to the soldier. 

 "Cause I complimented the fucking nurse? You know what, fuck you! And fuck the bitch!" 

 Don whipped out his pistol and pointed it at the downed soldier. Every sound ceased. The air froze. No one moved. Tension radiated from the scene. It felt with one wrong move, one wrong sound, Don would shoot. Even the wounded man stared in horror and rage at the pistol aimed at him. Everyone waited to see what Don would do. Anna covered her mouth with her hand, terrified that if she even peeped, Don would shoot the man on accident. When Don spoke next, Anna had never heard him sound so cold, it physically sent shivers down her spine.

 "I highly suggest you shut that big mouth of yours before I put fucking hole in your other leg." 

 If looks could kill, the soldier would have killed the tank commander twice over with the lethal glare he leveled at Don; but he wisely kept his mouth shut. The two stared at each other, almost willing the other to say something and set them both off like ticking time bombs. 

 After several tense moments, Don was the first to rip his gaze away and look over at Anna. Without a word, he beckoned her over with his hand. Worried and a little intimidated, she hurried over to stand between him and Grady. 

 "Anna, up you go now." The tank commander stated, nodding towards Fury, the threatening tone not quite fully leached from his voice yet. 

 "Wha… oh, no, I'm ok, Don. I promise."

 Those intense eyes bored into hers, immediately stopping any further excuses from passing her lips. "I can see you shaking like a leaf from the cold. I won't ask you again."

 "She can take my spot with Bible." Grady said to Don, looking over her head. "Keep her warmer."

 "Good. C'mon then."

 Next thing she knew, she was being manhandled by Don. He lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and set her onto the tank, where Boyd took her hand and slipped her into the gunner's spot with him. Her legs immediately felt marginally warmer as they were no longer bared to the cold elements. 

 Don climbed up to his spot, just on her left. None of the other soldiers, wounded or walking, would meet his gaze as he scanned over those nearby. As if just a shared glance would unleash his terrible ire onto them.  

 "I could have gotten up by myself." She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced over at him. 

 His hands stilled from placing the helmet on his head, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. "Whatever you say, doll." He winked quickly at her then looked forward, tapping a hand on his comms to speak. "Alright, let's move out."

 After that the tank jerked forward, Boyd had reached over to help keep her upright. Once settled, she tucked her face into her coat; not because of the cold, but in hopes no one would notice the blush on her cheeks. Butterflies danced in her stomach and it took her mentally berating herself to keep the stupid, giddy smile off her face. A simple wink should not have this much of an effect on her. Her mind decided to remind her of how it felt to have his hands on her and how easily he lifted her. That thought made her face heat up even more. 

 To distract herself, she peeked over her shoulder to see Grady sitting just behind her on the tank, watching the tree line with his mouth slightly open. 

 Although she still felt somewhat tense around Grady, he no longer looked at her as if she was a piece of meat to be ogled. She had noticed it the prior night as she joined the Fury crew and fell asleep leaning against Boyd. Followed by his strange actions today, she could not help but wonder what changed… if whatever occurred between him and Don in the French town had more of an effect than she realized. Maybe he was not such a bad man after all? Giving people second chances was something her mother preached and Anna found herself trying to do. Maybe now was a perfect example?

 Those on Fury rode silently for several miles, just watching the surroundings. Her thoughts turned dark, wondering if she should write Joe Hunter's wife. Obviously his wife would receive a condolence letter from the army but maybe it would help if she received a personal letter too from someone who worked with him? Who knew him and how devoted he was to her? Then again, she did not want his wife to misread her letter somehow and think Anna and Joe had an affair and now Anna was writing a letter out of guilt? Would someone do that? Or would they keep quiet about it? Her thoughts bounced around in her mind like ping pong balls, constantly moving but never actually in a helpful way. 

 "Where you from, Anna?"

 "Mmm?" Boyd's sudden question drew her from her inner musings. She lifted her head to look at him from staring at her nails as she picked at them. It took her an embarrassingly long moment of him staring at her with his eyebrows raised for his question to sink it. Heat filled her cheeks but she hoped it was not too noticeable. "Oh, sorry. I grew up in South Carolina but my family moved to Virginia, so that's where we lived the last few years. What about you?"

 He hummed, shifting slightly. "Missouri."

 "I've never been there. Do you miss it?"

 "I reckon. I miss the people there more, ya know?"

 Don cut in, still staring a head. "What he means is, he misses his girl."

 Her eyes widened and her head moved so fast from looking at Don on her left side to staring at Boyd on her right, she almost gave herself whiplash. "You have a sweetheart?"

 "Yeah." He shrugged casually as if it was not a big deal but the small smile on his lips and the light in his eyes betrayed him. 

 "And you haven't told me this?! You were getting on my case about seeing if I had one and this whole time you did!" She smack his chest lightly, making him flinch while Don and Grady laughed. "What's her name?"

 "Sarah Grace." His eyes softened even just saying her name. "Prettiest woman on God's good earth, I swear."

 She smiled at the fondness in his tone. 

 "We was gonna marry but then the war broke out and I felt called to join up. So she's waitin’ for me. When we get back, I'll start seminary and we'll get married."

 "If she's still waiting and not married someone else."

 Boyd narrowed his eyes at the mechanic behind Anna. "Grady, you just tryin' to get me riled up. It won't work. I know she'll wait."

 "Maybe she done run off with someone already." Grady countered, a smirk on his face. 

 "I just received a letter from her last month. You know that."

 "That was last month…"

 "I swear, Grady, if you don't-"

 "Alright, alright. Knock it off." Don said, grinning. It was obvious this was a continuous argument but was born out of teasing than any true malice. Boyd mumbled something under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 "Well I think it's sweet, Boyd. I'm happy for you." She bumped his shoulder, erasing the scowl on his face. In a split second decision, she looked behind her at Grady. Second chances, she told herself. "Where are you from?"  

 Initially, he seemed startled that she would ask him but quickly hid the surprise with his usual indifference. "California."

 She turned to Don next. "And you?"

 "Kentucky."

 It felt like she had to physically tear her eyes away from his or else she would be trapped in them. There was an intensity in them that balanced on the edge of exhilarating and terrifying. All it took was a small breeze to push him one way or another. So far she had only seen the kind and protective side of him. Now though, after he pulled the gun on the wounded man, she had seen a brutal side. It reminded her of when Norman mentioned about when he first met Don. Now she could see it, what Don had forced Norman to do. It sent a chill down her spine. People were forced to commit terrible crimes all the time during war. Was this side of Don because of war or just something that lurked under the surface continuously? She found herself worried about the answer. 

 Boyd interrupted her thoughts, continuing the conversation. "Gordo there is from Texas. Norman is from Pennsylvania."

 "Y'all are from all over the place." 

 "Yep, all it took was Hitler startin’ a war for us to meet."

 They all chuckled but grew quiet again at the sobering thought. 

 Anna could not help but think about where she would be right now if she had not joined the Nurse Corps. She had hoped to go to college and become a teacher. It was not glamorous but the very thought of it brought a smile to her face. Much to society's chagrin, she wanted more from life than to just marry the first man that came around and start having his babies. But it did not matter now. She was not even on the same continent of her birth. 

 She pushed back the thoughts of before and focused on those around her. The smell of cigarettes from the soldiers surrounding her. The chill in the air that clung to her without reprieve. The sight of what should have been a beautiful forest but set her on edge, expecting another surprise attack. She could not focus on what she was missing out on. War happened. And she answered the call. Even if it had been to get away from her own sins and ruined reputation.  

 *****

 The next afternoon, the company and tanks rolled into Haguenau. Snow dusted everything that had not been trampled yet. The air hung heavy with fatigue and despair. Supposedly the Allies were winning the war, but with the looks on the faces around… you would not suspect that. The sound of a mortar slamming into the ground up ahead made Anna flinch. She could not help but wonder what kind of new hell she had been taken too. 

 "Let's park in the rear. Don't need those Krauts aiming for our tanks." Don said over the comms. 

 When the tanks stopped, everything ground to a halt around them, followed by Captain Evans pulling up in his jeep. "Sergeant Collier! You'll come with me. Let's find out who's running this shit show."

 "Yes, sir!"

 Anna slid off the side of the tank, careful of her cold, bare legs. Instead of riding that day with Boyd, she had instead elected to ride next to a young soldier who had been shot in the shoulder. Tears slipping down his cheeks but the soldier never made a sound. The whole ride she held his hand on his uninjured side. Occasionally, she had to check on the other wounded but she always returned back to the young soldier. He never cried out, just whispered a near silent 'thank you' and held her hand tightly. 

 She could hear the men being told to stay put until further orders were given. Most were used to the routine by now. Stand around until directed where to go next. It was something she was adjusting too. Ignoring those yelling commands around her, she fixed her mangled uniform and coat as much as possible and looked up at her patient/companion. 

 "I'll be right back." She tapped the young soldier's leg before walking away in search of Medic Christianson. 

 She found him talking to one of the other medics, standing near a different tank. "Arthur, what do we do now?" She asked, rubbing her hands together to try and warm them up. Spring and its accompanying warmth could not come soon enough. 

 "We need to find the aid station they have here. Hopefully get the men moved there and transported to a hospital." He said, lighting a cigarette. After a drag, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right, I'll go. Keep an eye on those around here."

 "I'll come with you." She said probably far too brightly if the looks given to her said anything.  

 His green eyes narrowed at her a moment before he shrugged. "Fine. Let's go."

 She started to follow him, arms wrapped around herself in the large army-issued coat. For a second she wondered if she should tell Boyd where she was going then she dismissed it. He was not her keeper. She was here to do her job. 

 They wandered into the corpse-like city of Haguenau. It looked desolate. A mere illusion of what it had once been before war corrupted its beauty. Bombed buildings, craters in the streets, the staining of blood scattered along the ground and snow. Anna had never seen a place like this before. 

 After receiving directions from a passing Sergeant, they found the building housing the aid station. It was a two-story house that looked semi-stable, but far better than others surrounding it. Which was not a high standard. Anna and Arthur quickly ascended the steps and walked inside, not just to get out of the cold but to avoid the sporadic mortars. 

 "Something you need?" A voice asked them as soon as Arthur closed the door behind them. 

 The two looked over to see a man watching them from a side room. He had short black hair, thin beard, open face and medic badge on his arm. His head was tilted to the side, the cap on his head sliding slightly with the movement.

 "We just arrived with our company and we've got wounded." Arthur said, taking charge and moving another step into the building.  

 "Uh huh." The man eyed them then turned back and called out toward another room. "Hey, Roe!" He looked back at the two by the door, it was obvious the calculations crossing his mind as he prepared his question. "How many wounded?"

 "Eighteen."

 "Shit. What happened?"

 Anna kept back, allowing Arthur to take the lead. The dark-haired medic's eyes flickered towards her occasionally as if wondering what she was doing there but chose not to ask. Rubbing her hands together, a brief smile lifted the corners of her lips. Just being indoors, the permanent chill in her bones receded just enough she did not worry her legs would turn to icicles. It had only been a few days since the company left the small French town but being continuously outdoors, day and night, was something Anna found she disliked fervently. She looked over as she heard footsteps coming around the corner. 

 Arthur was still talking to the dark-haired medic, explaining what happened. "They laid landmines in the road, then when we stopped they fired on us from the surrounding woods. Perfect fucking ambush."

 "Damn Nazis." The medic shook his head. "You hear that, Gene?"

 The one called for came around the corner. He also had dark hair, pale skin and a sharp jawline. His eyes though were dull and a hint of red lingered around his nose like he was getting over a cold. His uniform was clean but even that could not distract from how bone-deep weary he appeared. "I 'eard. We got room upstairs. Won't be an issue."

 She froze, her mind whirling. That voice. She recognized it. Not many medics she had encountered had such a distinct Cajun drawl. Her brain frantically raced trying to remember where she knew it from. 

 "Eugene?" She found herself asking, hesitation in her voice. The man's head whipped over to stare at her. "Eugene Roe?"

 "Yes, ma'am. Have we met?"

 "Yes… I mean." She tucked some loose stands of her hair behind her ear, nervous that he would not remember her. "It…. It was back in Albourne. We did some training together. I'm Anna… Anna Cooper."

 One could watch the light bulb go off in his mind and his eyes light up. "Chérie?" His voice almost held an element of awe to it, that she was here and real. 

 She nodded, feeling tears fill her eyes. There was something in the simple nickname that tugged at her heart's strings. It reminded her of a time before war. Before blood and screams. Before the memories of death were stronger than memories of home. When it would just be the two of them at the aid station in Albourne practicing bandaging one another or swapping stories of their homes when homesickness struck them. 

 He hesitated for a moment before walking towards her. Seeing him move, she practically sprinted to him. They collided in that drafty building in Haguenau and for a moment, both felt like they could feel the sunshine on their faces and a spring rain to cleanse the taint of death from their skin. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. His own arms enclosed around her much smaller frame, surrounding her in warmth. Tears slipped down her cheeks, wetting his ODs. For once, she was not even ashamed. 

 "It's alright, chérie, it's alright."

 She laughed wetly, tipping her head up to look at him. "I can't even tell you how happy I am to see you."

 "I got that impression." 

 "Don't ruin the moment, Gene."

 He chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. "It's good to see ya too." He released her to step back and fully look at her. It was then he seemed to finally noticed her attire, or lack thereof. His eyes narrowed staring at her bare legs and short uniform boots before jumping back up to her face. "How did ya end up here? And what 'appened to ya uniform? Ya must be freezin'."

 "It's a long story...and we ran out of bandages, so…" she shrugged, gesturing to her clothes, self-conscious of her exposed skin. 

 Gene and the other medic shared a look before Gene looked back. "I expect to ‘ear it later, and we'll find ya some spare ODs. Spina, we got any in the new winter lot?"

 "Uh...I think so." The dark-haired medic responded, eyebrows almost touching his forehead. 

 "How many wounded y’all got?" Gene asked Anna.

 "Eighteen."

 "Bring 'em here. We'll make room. Medics?"

 Arthur answered this time, arms crossed over his chest. "Three medics and Nurse Cooper."

 "Good. Know how long y’all stayin'?"

 "No." She peeked over at Arthur, who confirmed her answer with a short nod. "We only just arrived."

 Gene looked over at Arthur. "Careful bringin' 'em here. We'll get space set and some coffee for ya." He peered down at Anna, eyes softening. "Let's get ya some warmer clothes, chérie."

 "I swear you're an angel… a Cajun angel."

 He chuckled, shaking his head. "Whatever ya say." Putting an arm around her shoulders, he guided her towards a different room. 

 And for a moment, she was reminded that one could find joy even in the midst of war. 

 *****

 The tank commander stood in the back of the crumbling, dank room observing the scene before him. He had followed Captain Evans and his two lieutenants to the HQ for the battalion holding Haguenau. Personally, he would rather be back with his men instead of here listening to formal introductions. This battalion did specifically ask for him and his platoon, so he steeled himself to get through this.  

 "I'm Captain Evans of the 103rd Infantry Division. This is Lieutenant Diggs and Lieutenant Cox. Behind them is Staff Sergeant Collier of the Armored Division." The Captain, who was clearly the oldest in the room by at least a decade or two, stood in the middle of what most likely used to be a nice living room, if the damaged chandelier hanging above him said anything. Now the place looked somewhere between trashed and abandoned. His two lieutenants stood just behind him as the introductions took place. "I'll get to the damn point, eh? We were blitz attacked on our way here, lost twenty-two men and another eighteen wounded. Fucking Krauts. I'm requesting permission to regroup and have our wounded taken care of before we move out."

 The red-head with the Captain's bars on his jacket nodded quickly, granting permission before Captain Evans even finished asking. "Of course. We don't have a lot to spare but we will what we can." He reached his hand out to shake hands with the grizzled captain. "I'm Captain Winters of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airbourne."

 "Paratroopers, eh?" The older man eyed the other captain after shaking hands.  "Heard you are some mean bastards. Nice to see the reputation isn't wrong for once."

 "Just doing our jobs."

 "Right. We'll get outta here, eh? Thank you again, Captain."

 "Sure." Captain Winters stated kindly but still with a hint of a guarded tone. "You need anything, ask for myself or Lieutenant Speirs of Easy Company."

 With a final nod, Captain Evans and his two lieutenants walked out. A strange silence fell over those in the room after the door slammed shut behind the Infantrymen. Don suddenly felt like he was back in the elementary school yard and was waiting to get picked for a team. Thankfully the silence did not last long. 

 "Armored Division? Are you our supposed tanks?" A dark-haired man asked, sitting propped up in a corner, flask openly in hand. This was his first time speaking, instead having just watched the prior introductions with a cocky grin.

 Don eyed him, noting the Captain bars on his uniform. "Yes, sir. 2nd Armored Division or what's left of it."

 Captain Winters stepped forward to shake Don's hand. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

 "Yeah, could have used you two months ago. Hell, even a month ago could have saved lives." The other Captain muttered then took a sip from his flask. Don tensed but then noticed the unnamed Captain's aggression seemed more directed at whatever happened two months ago versus Don himself. 

 The red-head looked over his shoulder. "Nix…"

 "Yeah, yeah, I know."

 Winters looked back at Don. "How many tanks do you have?"

 "Four, sir."

 "Good...good. There is talk of some smaller towns nearby we will need you for, to provide assistance with liberating and securing. Until we know for sure, your men find somewhere to stay. As of now, you are under my direct command, understand?"

 "Yes, sir."

 "That'll be all, Sergeant Collier."

 Don gave a quick salute and headed back out into the bombed out town. As he walked back towards the tanks, he thought about the man whose command he was now under. Captain Winters. There was a calculating intelligence in his eyes, not in a malicious way, but more as a chess master. When he asked Don about the number of tanks, it was apparent his mind immediately took the information and began processing how best to utilize them. Don also noticed how when a mortar landed particularly close to the building, making the few pictures left on the walls shake, neither the red-headed Captain nor the dark-haired one flinched. At all. The tank commander was unsure fully what to make of the other Captain- this Nix- but he approved so far of what he has seen in Captain Winters. He was a man obviously in control with his authority but was not so far up in the clouds he forgot about his foot soldiers. A rare trait amongst Regiment in Don's opinion. 

 By the time Don arrived back, it seemed most of the infantrymen had dispersed into the city leaving the tanks and their crews waiting for him. He hoped they could find a decent building to claim without resorting to violence. At this point, he was not above punching a few Privates to make sure his crew got a good roof over their heads. 

 "What's the orders?" Binkowski asked, eyeing the city warily. 

 Don sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before answering. "Under a Captain Winters now. Said to stay put until orders are confirmed but sounds like we'll help secure some towns nearby."

 "Heard they're paratroopers." Davis said. He leaned against his tank, lighting up a cigarette. 

 "Yep." The sound of a mortar went off nearby. Don watched Norman startle out of the corner of his eye then rub his nose on his sleeve. He made a mental note to check on the kid once they got settled.

 "Paratroopers?" One of Davis' crew muttered, standing just off to the side. 

 "The idiots that volunteered to jump out of planes." Binkowski answered with a snort and shake of his blond head. 

 "On purpose?" The crew member's eyes widened. Don tried to remember the man's name. Kohl… Colbert… Coulson… something like that. 

 Gordo said, sitting on top of Fury. "Heard they are some real sonsofbitches."

 Don smirked. "Guess we'll find out. Let's find somewhere to claim before all the houses are filled up."

 The men began to move, ready to find somewhere to bunk down. Don surveyed around once more, wondering what awaited them in this hell hole.

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Alright, what did y’all think of Easy’s introductions? Lemme know what you think!

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Emergency Contact

Spinner (Shuichi Iguchi) X Fem!Reader

A/N: This was so fun to write! I’m loving the idea of phone sex right now, but also the idea of subby Spinner. So why not both? Here’s another fic about my favorite! Tagged: @knifeewifee​

Summary: Spinner phone calls his sweet girlfriend late one night to update her on his trip. The next morning, he gets a surprise visit.

Warnings: Smut (18+), established romantic relationship and pet names, cussing, praise kink, JOI (jerk off instructions), masturbation, oral (giving), riding

Word Count: 4.3k

Spinner lays against a plush comforter on the bed of a private hotel room with a throw blanket wrapped around his sore legs soothing him to relax after a long day of fighting. Although, the bed still feels less warm without his most favorite person in the world there with him. His favorite person even compared to the man that inspired him to fight for a greater cause; the entire reason he was away from you right now.

He sticks his neck out every day for his comrades and the people around him so that they’ll eventually have a life better than the one dealt to them. And you’re on his mind the entire way through. He slings his arm over his face, resisting the urge to call you and risk distracting him from the League’s current mission.

Spinner lays thinking about how your body would feel against him, how you would probably be eating room service dessert with him right now, and then seducing him with whipped cream upon your lips enough to get him fucking your supple body into the memory foam mattress. He could even imagine you ordering a breakfast spread the morning after; knowing you so well.

These thoughts that flood his head and warm his face convince him to dig out his cell phone from his sweatpants’ pocket. He taps to your contact and calls, hoping you would pick up soon. There isn't any time difference, right?

—

You sit at your desk working on an assignment for your job, your face leaning in your palm as you click through tens of slides. Honestly, you didn't have to be working that late into the night, but it felt better to have a task to distract yourself from your best friend and lover is away. Within the time you’ve been an item, this incident has only come up a couple times, so it's been difficult to understand the empty feeling you experience in bed each night passing.

Suddenly, your phone starts to buzz against the hardwood of the desk. Picking your hand up from your computer mouse, you flip the phone over to check the contact. Your eyes widen and your shoulders perk up to the name written across the screen. You immediately hit the answer button and lift it to your ear.

“Hi, love,” a smile beaming across your face. “Are you alright?” your excited expression slightly falters when you realize he might be calling as an emergency. Maybe he’s hurt?

“Yeah, yes, I’m just fine, sweetie, hey,” he responds quickly to ease your nerves. “I just wanted to call and catch up while I can. I miss you so much, Y/N.” His voice dancing through the speaker directly into your ear makes him feel closer than he actually is. It’s lower than usual, so probably a mix of the microphone filtering and exhaustion from a long day. Either way, the vibrations of his gruff tone send waves of satisfaction down your spine.

“It feels so good to hear your voice, babe.” you lower your voice to a comforting whisper. “So, what’s up, how’s everything going?’ You move from your desk chair and shut off your computer, deciding to move all of your attention to him.

“It‘s been a lot of work, but everyone here is putting in their best effort,” you hear him say as you climb into your shared bed to rest against the mountain of throw pillows stacked across the headboard. Spinner feels his throat tighten recognizing the sound of the rustling sheets beneath your body. His attention being interrupted by the thought of watching you crawl across the mattress in those mini pajama shorts you usually wear to bed. The cups of your ass showing proudly to him as you sway your hips to tease him before you lay close together. “Actually, speaking of them,” he continues. “We were put up in a hotel for the night and I actually got a suite to myself. Could you believe it, baby?” he laughs softly.

You position yourself snugly into your usual side of the bed. It feels more comfortable to leave his space open, especially when you can still smell his scent on the pillows and favorite blanket beside you. “Oh my god, the League of Villains gets to spend a night in a swanky hotel! That’s so nice, love. I hope you’re enjoying it, I wish I could be there with you,” you gush.

“I know, it would be so amazing if you could come along with me. But, I don't want you to get hurt over my job. That would kill me,” as always, you hear the compassion in his voice that comes whenever he talks about protecting you from his actions.

“I understand, cutie, it’s okay,” you smile. “But, you know I am strong enough to take on some of the people you fight, even without huge muscles like yours,” you tease, your subconscious pushing you to change the subject to something more erotic. You silently hope you could ease his tensions about his dangerous lifestyle. Being alone gives you way more time to wonder about what will happen once he returns, but sometimes it’s even more fun to be impatient.

“C'mon,” he groans. “Don’t say it like that, sweetheart,” laughing as his hand runs through his loose hair. “I still have a few more days out here without you. And, uh, tonight’s the only night I have privacy… It’ll be the only time I’ll get to, ya know…”

“What, I totally wasn’t coming onto you? I wasn’t trying anything, I swear. I was just complimenting the talent of my hard-working boyfriend,” you tease, waiting to pull your favorite reaction from him.

“I definitely wouldn't mind having you come onto me right now,” your touch starved boyfriend says in a low voice, slightly embarrassed by his forwardness. Since being experienced before you, an ounce of attention towards his hormonal brain sends him wanting loads more.

Jackpot.

“You would love it if I came onto your face, huh, love?” you breathe out, a wide grin holding residence on your face.

“Holy shit, yes baby,” he chokes out. His empty hand is already roaming down his abdomen in anticipation.

“Or, my slick easily running down my thighs onto you after both of your cocks stretch me to my limit…” you tantalize, testing the waters for how far he wanted to go.

A low, long groan sounds into your ear. Spinner slowly rocks his hips upward in frustration, his palm finally reaching the top of his prominent bulge.

“If you’re wearing it, pull your tank off, Shuichi,” you gently command.

“Shi-,” he attempts to pull his top off with one hand, but the action taunts him when he realizes to pull it off with both. Removing his hand from his pants, he pulls the tank over his head and shucks it to the corner of the room. The second his attention is back on you, he turns his phone to the speaker to set it on his pillow. Both hands are fully free now. “Love, what are you wearing right now?”

“One of your extra tanks and some soft teeny shorts. Why?” acting oblivious to the actual meaning of his question.

“God, those shorts, I might have been thinking you- in them,” he breathes out. “Could I see? Send a pic, or we could video call. Fuck, anything,” he groans impatiently.

You smile to yourself as he admits to being needy, and it only encourages you to brave up and push into the mood more. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll send you whatever you’d like. Right now you’re just going to listen to my voice and follow exactly what I say for you to do. Deal?” You drop your voice into a sultry tone.

“Deal. I’d do anything,” Shuichi whines.

“Ok,” you pull away from the phone to take deep breaths before continuing. “Relax and lay back.

Are you comfortable?”

“Mhm.”

“With one hand, massage your hard-on over your pants. And with your other… pretend it’s mine as you trail over your stomach,” you instruct sensually.

Spinner follows your words carefully as he grinds his palm into his groin. His fingers wrap roughly around the circumference of the prominent outline in his pants trying to add friction to his prick that rests underneath layers. His other palm slides against his abdomen to lightly caress the muscle beneath it.

Imagining him in such a position, you pull your hand to one of your breasts and roll a nipple between your fingers. The thin material of the tank top is the only thing stopping you from feeling the soft skin of your chest. You set the phone down on the bed on the speaker, and continue your ministrations. “My hand is running against each of your abs, my fingers tracing the intricate grooves made by your scales. You have the hottest body, Shuichi,” you moan into the phone as you begin to pull your shorts down your legs.

“Mmm,” he moans involuntarily. “Ah- tell me, are you- touching yourself, too?”

“You’ll find out eventually,” your tease happily. “Tonight’s about you, and I'm sure you're following my instructions to the letter. Right? Because if not, remember, you won’t be getting any proof of how wet my pussy is tonight.”

“Shit, when you talk like that, I- I can’t- I can’t handle it, Y/N,” he whimpers.

“Well, I really want to see how long you can last, Spinner,” you say pulling your top over your head. “So, you can take your cocks out, now.” He groans as he quickly tugs his sweatpants down his thighs. Both weeping pricks springing free from against the right waistband. Precum clings to his pants creating thin, sticky ropes of a clear liquid that make a mess of his lower stomach. “I'm sure they kinda hurt from throbbing against your pants, aching for some relief. Would you like some relief, sweetie?

“Yea-yes, Y/N,” he stutters.“Please, let me touch myself.”

“Hmm, you may, but just one. Don’t dare try to wrap your fist around both of them.” your voice is low. You lay in bed in only your underwear and quietly pull them to the side to give your clit some relief of its own.

“Ahh, Y/N,” Shuichi moans while stroking his thick cock languidly, tossing glances at his other cock leaking precum against his pubis. “You would give me head if you were here right? You know I can’t stand the teasing when we’re face to face. This feels so- so different. God, you’re so- ah- hot.”

Both of you, especially Spinner, are usually shy about sexual advances in person, so trying this new way of sending sexy messages felt so good. “Mmm, Shuichi,” you breathe out. Your fingers lacing through your slicked folds while you listen to the clicking of each of his jerks through the phone. “Just for that, go ahead and start stroking both together.” You hear him spit into his palm as he attempts to push both throbbing pricks together into one steady hand.

The late-night and the emptiness of both of your rooms are only filled with each other’s moans and pining words calling for each other’s bodies. Your hands move together as your eyes shut to deepen the illusion of his presence.

“I’m- close, I’m gonna,” Spinner grunts out.

Your eyes shoot open. “Wait! I have something for you,” snapping out of your sultry voice as if in an emergency. “Give me one sec.” You pick up your phone from the bed and angle the camera towards your body before sending it off as a text.

Spinner fumbles around with his phone, lacking to be grossed out by his own saliva covered hand as he opens your message. “Ohh,” he grunts. The photo showed the position you’d been pleasuring yourself in; legs spread wide showing off your dripping cunt and fingers resting on your clit. “Fuck! You- you look so gorgeous. God, please let me cum!”

“Go ahead, baby. I wish my fingers were you right now,“ you offer.

“Fuuu- uhh. I'm coming, I'm-” his voice catches before he let out a stream of muffled moans. Both of his cocks shoot ropes of his load onto his abdomen, emptying him until he’s completely spent. Spinner takes deep guttural breaths before letting out a sigh of relief.

“How was that?” you ask nervously, you decide not to go for your own orgasm.

“That was great, I had no clue you could do that! Did you learn that from that one otome game?” he says, genuinely curious.

You laugh and cover your hand with your face in exhaustion. “I’m glad you liked it, but now I’m getting sleepy. I’m gonna get some rest, Shuichi.”

“No problem, you're the best, ya know,” he smiles, exhausted. ”Goodnight, sleep well,” he says lovingly.

“Goodnight,” you smile.

Ending the call, your next action would either be the best decision or one you’d regret. You scroll through your contacts before calling your mutual friend, who also was away on the same mission. The phone rings against your ear as you wait, but it picks up only a few seconds later.

“Hey, sorry if I woke you up, I need the hotel information of where you all are staying. I need Spinner’s room number, too,” you request.

“Aw, do you want to come and visit him? So cute! Fuck off, don’t call me this late again, Y/N.”

—

You walked down the sidewalk of a city a few hours away from your home in one of your boyfriend’s tee’s, leggings, and a tote clutched to your side. It’s early in the morning, you’d caught the train around 7am and prepared a plan while sitting alone in the carriage. You finally made it to the entrance of the hotel with your cell phone in your hand to double-check the room number you’d easily convinced Twice to send you. Walking through the lobby, your shoes echo off the marble floor. You softly say “good morning” to the concierge before walking to the elevators at the back of the room and tapping the up button.

Your stomach turns while you walk down the hallway of his floor. What if he's bothered by you being there? What if the plan doesn’t work out? Either way, he responds, you had at least planned for a sweet day date with him away from his team. With a hopeful expression, you knock on his suite door and shift your feet on the hallway carpet waiting for him to respond.

The clicking of locks opening behind the door elevates your mood before the door is swung open. Your boyfriend in pajamas grins wildly as he pounces on you for a hug. “Y/N!” he exclaims, pressing his snout down into your shoulder. You squeeze him close to your body with both arms thrown around his back, surprised at his forwardness. “What are you doing here! Oh, uh, haha, come inside.” You follow him into the living area part of the suite, closing the door behind you.

“Honestly, I wanted to see you in person after our call from last night,” you admit. “So, I got Twice to share the information with me, I hope that’s ok. I know you don’t want Tomura to find out, but I couldn’t help myself,” you explain.

“No, no, I- I like that you came to me, that’s the nicest thing ever, babe,” Spinner says, pulling your hand into the sleeping area. “But, check this room out! I had a whole queen bed to myself, flat-screen TV…, and a desk!”

You watch him swing his arms around the room to show you as much as he could before he had to check out later that afternoon. His excitement for things he’s passionate about always made you love him more. You lean into his side and place a kiss to the side of his snout. He halts his show-and-tell before turning to look into your eyes, a smile growing on his face. His cheeks are blushing.

“You stole a kiss from me?” He questions. “You know what happens when you do that,” Spinner turns on his fake villainous voice before taking your chin in his hand. And then, starts to tickle your neck.

“Shuichi! Ah, no!” You walk backward into the edge of the bed trying to escape his grasp. You fall over onto the soft mattress when his hands roam to your sides and your thighs, continuing his attack. Always being careful with his sharp nails. “Haha ah! C’mon, Mr. Villain! I promise- I won’t steal another!”

Now, his body is hovering above yours, his long, strong arms holding your body like a vice. He stops to stare at your pretty face that's laughing and smiling because of him.

You stare back while locking eyes with his. Wanting to make the move you’d traveled there for, you rush to the front of his snout and lock your lips with his. Tracing the precise shape of his jaw with your fingers. Your bodies come together, noses nuzzled against the others’.

His strength helps pull you both up toward the middle of the bed. Once reaching a more comfortable spot, you use your own strength to push him onto his back. You straddle your legs over his hips and lean down to kiss his neck. Pressing your hot lips against his skin, you let your tongue slip out before sucking the spot he usually hides under a scarf. You whisper sweetly, “I told you I was stronger than you thought, handsome. How would you feel for me to use you like a toy?” Lifting your head, you watch his blown out eyes in anticipation.

Sunlight pours into the room in rays from the large windows at the side of the room while thin curtains give some amount of privacy. Luckily, you were on a high floor. His brown eyes show amber flecks as the sun hits them. He searches your expression for any sign of a lie or joke. “You want to have sex?” he asks, oblivious.

“I want you to fuck me, love… if you’d like that of course" you whisper.

He can’t believe the love of his life just traveled several hours to do something so sinful with his body. His eyes darken a shade in arousal, hoping you’ll dominate his every move, just as you’d done the night before. “Shit, yes. I need you-”

You raise your shirt over your head to throw it over your shoulder before reaching for the edge of his own. Spinner raises his arms above his head and lets you pull it off of his torso. You kiss his nose before sliding down his body eagerly, taking the waistband of his pants with you. Kissing the lines leading down from his Apollo’s belt, you close your eyes in comfort. When you finally open them again, a flutter of your fingers moves his cocks until they’re hard and straining against your hand.

“Please, suck me. I need your tongue, you’re so good,” he stammers. His index finger is pinched between his teeth as you lick up the full length of his sleek shaft. Once you bring your mouth to his tip, the swirl of your tongue against his hole makes him squirm against the sheets. “Ah, so sensitive,” he whimpers.

You lift your mouth from his dripping prick and smile upwards at his blushing face. “So, you don’t want me to blow you, babe?,” you tease as you stroke him slowly in one hand.

“No, no, no keep going!” Spinner yelps trying to sway his hips in your moving hand for friction.

Your head dips back down to the cock in your hand and you wet your lips before taking an amount of his thick length in your mouth. The taste of his bittersweet precum grazing your palate. He groans as you continue in a bobbing motion reminding you of the night before. Your inner thighs rub together to give friction to your hidden cunt.

You continue to bob your head up and down, pressing your tongue against his shaft. His moans motivate you to take both of his cock tips between your lips; you’re still learning how to completely pleasure both of his members equally. You drag your tongue back and forth along his weeping tips in a swiping motion and watch his reaction from underneath your lashes. The size of his eyes and raised brow make you giggle against him; it gives you even more encouragement to keep going. Giving a kiss on the inner part of his muscular thigh, you sit up and pull your leggings off.

Your boyfriend does a double-take when he realizes you're not wearing anything underneath. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he throws his head back against the pillow. You giggle and climb back up his body while Shuichi’s hands pull your hips into his lap to straddle him again. He rocks your body back and forth easily making your slit slide along the length of his shaft. The ridge before his cock tip hitting your clit with every turn.

“Ooh,” you repeat with every time his hard tip skims your engorged pearl. “I wanna ride your cock, babe,” you moan above him. Spinner’s face flushes as he nods and picks your hips up from his body. He ogles your arousal covering the entirety of his cock before allowing you to take it in your small hand to line it up with your entrance. His focused gaze switches from watching you prod your hole to the lewd expression on your face. Your lip being held between your teeth, you lower yourself onto his cockhead. “Ahh,” you gasp. Your chest quickly rises at the sudden development. The built-up arousal causes your body to fall onto his dick in full. You both groan at the abrupt stretch and tightness of your drenched sleeve wrapped around him.

“Y/N, you’re so beautiful. How am I so lucky?” he gushes. You smile down at him and start your back and forth movements, holding onto his broad shoulders for guidance.

Shuichi caresses your thighs as you ride him sensually. You reach down and run your fingers through his hair as you moan. You continue to roll your hips as he closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours, "Enjoy yourself. Take me all you want.” Spinner groans at your slow movements; the nails of his forefingers sinking into your ass like lead as he tries to thrust up into you impatiently. You put your entire weight into him as you press his chest down into the mattress; you forbid him from moving without your permission. “You make me feel- ah- So. Fucking. Good,” he grunts with every smack of your ass against his thighs as you bounce on his dick. His other cock lies beneath your spread thigh; it gains pleasure from the fiction caused by you bouncing and grinding.

You breathe heavily above him. The stretch you feel from his textured cock is heavenly, but once he reaches to poke into your cervix it’s difficult to control your rhythm. “Oh fuck! Right there!” The feeling makes you fall from your posture above him to his level. Your arms circle his neck as your chests are pressed together to continue. The curved tip of his cock slides repeatedly into the soft, ridged spot inside of you as he thrusts upwards into your body now. Forgetting about your assertion about taking control, he pistons his hips forward from the mattress into your sopping cunt over and over again; he’s only trying to get you to your climax now. The feeling of your pretty little hole tightening tells him your close to coming undone.

“Fuck, yes, just like that! Please, a little more,” you groan into his shoulder. You whine after each of his thrusts into his neck. Your words of praise becoming mush as he plows through your body.

“Fuck, I can feel you-. You’re all mine, ugh, you’re pussy is all mine, huh?,” he grunts into your ear. “Cum on my cock. I want it, baby, please- Give it to me!” he says in rhythm to each one of his thrusts as he holds your hips down into his groin.

A large knot in your stomach tightens abruptly and your throat catches before you feel the snap coming. His words encourage your body to let go as your face the orgasm you had denied yourself the night before. You let out a flow of whines and “yes’s” riding your high on his pulsating prick. The next moment, you watch as Spinner’s snout turns upwards and his eyes roll back into his head as he unloads thick strings of warm cum into your cunt. Your exhausted walls unable to give him more before his slippery cock slides out; it lands on his abdomen with a smack in a pool of cum from his other cock.

Shuichi holds your hips above him as you both come down from your highs. His fingertips gently sliding over the indentations from his nails on your ass cheeks and thighs. You place a long kiss on his snout and cheek before throwing yourself to his side on the bed. You both let out deep sighs in pleasure as you both turn to look at one another in awe.

“So,” you laugh. “I planned a cute breakfast date out on the town, but this feels so nice,” you say, smiling.

“A date, with me?” You giggle and nod. His face is flushed, but he responds to you in the same amount of contentment, “I still want to experience the room service, so let’s clean up and I’ll order whatever you want.”

[the-shin-reborn]

Nora's duty

Jaune

“Nora you’re so tight today” Jaune said as he wrecks Nora’s pussy. It’s because I love the way your cock feels in my pussy" Nora said as she gripped joune’s cock tighter. Oh my god Nora this feels better than usual" Jaune said struggling to not cum immediately. “C'mon Jaune we need to empty those balls deep inside me” Nora said slamming her hips against Jaune’s hips. Jaune not being able to hold it he cums deep inside as Nora kept shaking her hips. “Oh that was great I’ll see you tomorrow” Jaune said as Nora left the room in a hurry. “I wonder where she goes?"

Ren (goes a bit dominant as he fucks her ass)

Ren pushing Nora’s face down as he pounds her ass, "you like the way I pound that ass Nora?" Nora unable to respond from the pleasure and becoming Ren's fuck toy. All you hear are Nora's moans and the wet slapping noises from both their hips colliding. Ren reached over grabbing Nora's tits and pulled her back pusshing Ren's cock deeper in the mindless slut. She moaned loudly as she couldn't form words from the anal pounding Ren was giving her. Ren cums for the fifth time and let's Nora go, "next time I won't go easy" Ren said closing the door behind him.

Pyrrha

Nora still in a haze of pleasure hears the door open. "Oh good! Glad I found you ready" pyrrha said as she saw Nora facing up with her tongue out. Pyrra stripped and sat on Nora's face. Norra feeling every movement of Pyrrah's hips grinding and gyrating on her face as Pyrrah's pussy dances on Nora's tongue. "Nora stick your tongue deeper into my pussy please" Pyrrha moaned as she can feel Nora trying to dig into pyrrha pussy. "Oh yes! You know exactly where my weak spots are Pyrrha moaned as she began moving her hips more soaking Nora's face as she squirts. "I'm almost there... just a little bit... more" Pyrrah moaned as she began slapping her ass against Nora's face. Nora's face gets covered in Pyrrha's pussy juice as she can feel her pussy quiver on Nora's tongue. "That felt amazing as usual Nora, I'll see you tomorrow ok?"

Nora on the floor with cum dripping from both holes and juices all over her face she smiles and thinks "I love my job"