#jonathan majors smut

[noirsfantasy]

The Outlaw’s Embrace

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Jonathan Majors as Nat Love x Black!Fem Reader

𝔱𝔶𝔭𝔢 ➛ Smut, semi-fluff

𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 ➛ The Harder They Fall

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛ 2.6K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ When Nat Love shows up after another one of his travels, you give him the cold shoulder. Although, you know as well as he does that you can’t stay mad at him. Hell, you can barely resist his smile. But you won’t make it easy for him…

The sun hangs low, casting long shadows through the dusty streets of Deadwood as the familiar creak of leather and jingle of spurs announces the arrival of a lone rider. Nat Love, the notorious bounty hunter, guides his horse to a halt in front of a weathered apothecary shop. He dismounts, a confident swagger in his step, and pushes open the creaking door.

Inside the shop, he spots me, my back turned as i carefully measure out herbs. I barely glance at the door towards the visitor. I continue my work, wanting to finish up before I tend to anyone. Nat clears his throat, his eyes fixed on the assortment of dried plants and glass jars that lined the shelves. “Need somethin’, ma’am,” he drawls, a hint of mischief in his voice as he picks up a jar of medicine. My fingers hesitate for just a moment, then resume their task with practiced precision. I know that voice, even after all this time.

Without turning around, I respond curtly, “Can’t help you if you don’t ask.”

He takes a step closer, his presence filling the small space. “Might be I need a little… healin’, Doc.”

I finally turn, my gaze meeting his with a cool detachment. He stands at the counter, towering over me as he watches me. “You might be needin’ more than that, from the looks of you.”

Nat chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. “You still not talkin’ to me?” he asks, his eyes searching mine for any sign of softening. My expression remains steely, my lips forming a thin line.

“I reckon I’ve got nothin’ to say.” I reply, my tone icy. He leans against the wooden counter, studying my face.

“You know, darlin’, you can’t stay mad at me forever.” I meet his gaze with a flash of defiance.

“I’ve not been keepin’ track of time.” The tension between us is palpable, a silent battle of wills that echoed through the apothecary shop. We stand there, locked in a familiar dance of push and pull, the weight of our shared history hanging heavy in the air.

As the moments stretch on, Nat’s gaze softens, a flicker of regret in his eyes.

“Y/n,” he says, his voice gentler now, “I didn’t come here to stir up no trouble. Just… needed to see your face.”

I hold his gaze for a beat longer. I lean in so that our faces are inches apart, then turn away, my hands resuming their work. “Well, you’ve seen it. Now what?”

Nat sighs, a mixture of resignation and longing in his expression. He knows that winning back my trust wouldn’t be easy, but he is willing to try. The wild frontier had a way of bringing people together and tearing them apart, but perhaps this time, they could find a way to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

"You fixin' to make a purchase, Mister? If not, reckon it's time to mosey on." I quipped, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Might be I’m lookin’ for a remedy to deal with a stubborn woman,” Nat shoots back, a playful glint in his eye.

“You’ll need more than a potion for that, cowboy.” I scoff, turning back towards him and crossing my arms. Nat’s eyes stay on me, his eyelids low. His spurs click against the widen floorboards as he makes his way around the counter, closing the distance between us.

“You always did have a mouth on you, Y/n. But you know, a sharp tongue won’t keep me away.” His eyes have a seductive glint in them. I meet his gaze, unyielding.

“Guess we’ll see about that, won’t we?” I retort, tilting my chin up as if to raise a challenge. Nat’s expression turns determined, a challenge accepted.

“You’re just beggin’ for trouble, ain’t you?”

“Trouble’s my middle name, Nat. Don’t you forget it.” I remind him, causing him to quirk his eyebrow. I defiantly do the same, a smirk playing at my lips. The air between us thick with tension as we stare each other down, daring the other to fold. Although, underneath all this bravado, there’s an undeniable chemistry that neither one of us can deny. He is, in fact, right. I can’t stay mad at him forever.

“Well, darlin', if you're gonna give me trouble," Nat grins, "then I reckon I'll just have to show you who's boss."

As the sun dips below the horizon, the last lights of the evening shine across the shop. Nat and I stare each other down, not giving in. After what seems like an eternity of silence, he finally leans in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that is as fiery and defiant as I am. In that heated moment, I allow myself to be carried away, my bratty facade melting into the raw intensity of our connection.

Nat's hands find their place on my waist, his fingers pressing into my hips as he draws me closer to him. Our kiss is fervent and intense, a clear reflection of the magnetic pull between us. I wrap my arms around his neck, lightly grazing his lower lip with my teeth.

Nat lets out a soft moan against my lips, his hand gliding up my thigh to caress and grip one of my cheeks through my bloomers. Soon, he firmly holds both of my thighs, lifting me up, intensifying the kiss. Our desire is palpable as we move clumsily towards the stairs.

As we reach my room, he playfully throws me onto the bed. His hat lands beside him as he nonchalantly discards his jacket and unbuttons his shirt. Meanwhile, I effortlessly shed my clothes down to my undergarments.

Nat's gaze intensifies as he watches me undress, his heart racing with anticipation. He throws his shirt to the side, unveiling a sculpted chest and defined abs. His bulge is prominent as it strains against the fabric of his jeans. He leans me back into the bed, hastily removing the rest of my clothes as he gazes upon my dripping wetness. He doesn’t waste any time and presses his mouth to my pussy, causing me to gasp with pleasure. His tongue slips between my lips, lapping up all of my juices.

Nat takes his time, licking and slurping at my folds, using his tongue to probe and tease my clit before moving to the entrance of my pussy and thrusting his tongue inside of me. His hand’s grip remains firm on my thighs as I buck into his mouth.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, Nat~” I moan as my fingers knot into his hair. Nat groans into my crotch, loving the way I'm falling apart. He continues to lap at my folds and thrust his tongue deep inside of me, his other hand moving to grope my breast.

"That's it, baby girl. Keep calling my name." With every flick of his tongue, my release builds more and more. Feeling my body tense up beneath him, Nat increases the intensity of his actions. His tongue fucks my pussy relentlessly while his fingers pinch and roll my nipples, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

"I'm gonna make you cum so hard," He remarks as he keeps one hand on my hip to hold me down. I squirm and writhe as the my climax reaches the breaking point. My moans fill the room as I squirt into his mouth, drenching his beard as well.

Nat groans around my swollen clit, his mouth filled with my sweet nectar. The taste of it drives him wild, his cock twitching in anticipation.

"Fuck, you taste amazing," He husks. I pant heavily as I lay back onto the bed, coming down from the high. But he has no intentions to give me the luxury of rest.

Without breaking eye contact, Nat slowly pulls away, his mouth still full of my juices. His eyes stay on me as he pulls down his britches, allowing his hard cock to spring free. He reaches down and grabs hold of his bulging erection, positioning it at my entrance.

“Ready for more, darlin’?” He teases. I bite my lip as I watch Nat stroke himself, his tip pressing against my entrance. My silence earns me a firm smack on my thigh, causing me to yelp in response.

“Where all them words from earlier, lil lady? You ain’t seem to struggle with words none when you had all that sass earlier.” Nat gives me a smug smirk as he sees my change in attitude. I gulp nervously, feeling the heat of his gaze on me. My mind goes blank as I try to think of something to say.

"I... I want you to fuck me." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. Nat chuckles darkly, his hand moving to grip my thigh roughly.

"That's more like it," Nat grins, his cock now rock hard and leaking precum. He continues to rub his cock between my folds, his tip getting slick with my juices. I whimper softly as the anticipation is killing me. I move my hips towards him, hoping for him to slide inside me. Nat clicks his tongue at me, smirking as he shakes his head. "You seem a mite impatient, don't ya?" He asks, causing me to groan as I grip the sheets.

“Nat, plea-” With a swift motion, Nat slams his cock deep inside me, filling me up instantly. A high pitch gasp emits from my lips as his girth stretches me. He groans loudly, bracing himself against the wall as he begins to pound his hips against mine. I cry out as he fills me so completely, my body aching with need. Nat's rough lovemaking sends shivers down my spine; it's both painful and exhilarating. The headboard bangs against the wall in rhythm with our grunts and moans. It’s as if all this time apart allowed our lust and longing to build and it’s all being released at once.

The more he hammers into me, the louder my moans become. I bite my bottom lip hard, trying to stifle some of the sounds but failing miserably. Nat's hips are like pistons, driving him deeper and harder into me. My body starts to adjust to his size, and I feel myself growing wetter around him. I clutch at his broad shoulders, my nails digging into his skin lightly.

"Fuck, Nat," I pant, "You so big." With a smirk, Nat leans down and captures my lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue dives deep into my mouth, tangling with mine as he goes deeper with each powerful stroke. I cry out, moaning into his mouth as the pleasure builds up inside me, my legs shaking with each movement. Nat's thick cock feels like it's hitting all the right spots, driving me crazy with need and lust. I arch my back against him, meeting his thrusts with my own, our bodies slapping together in a primal dance of desire. The headboard is starting to creak under the force of our passionate lovemaking.

I can feel myself getting closer to the edge, my orgasm building up rapidly. I try to match his pace, meeting each of his thrusts with a sharp gasp or moan.

"Nat," I gasp, "I'm close—!" My legs shake unsteadily as I try to maintain my balance under the onslaught of his passionate lovemaking. I can feel him getting closer, the head of his cock brushing against my sensitive nub with every thrust. He makes his reply by growling lowly as his fingers dig into my hips, thrusting even harder. The pain is dizzying and I find myself tearing at his back with my nails as I don’t hold back my screams. A slew of unintelligible words and whimpers fall from my lips as Nat drags his teeth across my neck, sucking hard on the skin.

“Cum for me, baby," he demands, driving his cock deeper still. And just like that, I'm lost in a whirlwind of pleasure.

“Oh fuck, Nat!" I scream, my body shuddering violently as wave after wave of orgasm washes over me. Nat follows quickly behind, his powerful thrusts becoming erratic as he releases himself deep inside me.

“Unngh...," Nat groans, collapsing onto me. His weight is heavy, but I welcome it, savoring the closeness we share in this moment. Our chests press against each others as we come back down to earth, our heartbeats matching.

As our breathing slowly returns to normal, I nuzzle his neck, my lips brushing against his soft skin.

"Damn, girl," Nat pants, rolling off of me. He wipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand and smirks at me. "That sure was a wild ride, sweetheart. Seems like you had a lot bottled up beneath them layers." He teases. I roll my eyes, giggling a bit.

"Well, I reckon I wouldn't have been so bottled up if a certain cowboy hadn't hightailed it outta here." I retort with a sly smile. Nat laughs and pulls me close to him, his muscles cradling me gently. He plants a kiss on my forehead and his hand runs down my side, resting on my ass cheek. He sighs softly, looking at me with low eyelids.

“Y/n, I’m here to stay, I swear on it.” He tells me, giving me a reassuring half smile. I return the smile, wanting to believe him, but deep down I know it ain’t the truth. A man like Nat can never stay too long. I know as well as he does that he’s got unfinished business.

My hand runs up and down his muscled bicep as I enjoy the time I have with him. It’s a cycle with us. Nat Love has to leave to go do what Nat Love does. I stay here, going on with life as I patiently await his return. He comes home eventually like nothing ever happened and it seems like he’ll actually stay this time, but something always comes up. It’s only a matter of time until-

*Knock knock* goes the front door from downstairs. Nat and I both sit up, instinctively reaching for our guns on the nightstand. Nat pulls on his pants and shirt while I put on a night gown that reaches my feet. We slowly make our way down the stairs, guns pointed as the banging at the door comes again. Nat steps in front of me, inching towards the door.

“We closed this time ‘round. Come back in the mornin’!” I call out towards the door.

“Y/n? It’s Bill Pickett, is Nat with you?” He asks through the door. Nat and I lower our guns and he gives me an apologetic look that I already know the meaning of. Nat sighs and opens the door.

"Bill, you sure do have the worst timing known to man." Nat chuckles, half smiling. Bill looks between us, realizing what was going on.

“My apologies, y’all was making sex. I hate to interrupt but you gots ta see this.” I glance at Nat, knowing what’s next. He turns towards me, giving me a sweet, longing kiss, before giving me his signature smile.

“I gotta go see what’s up, Y/n, but I’ll be back before you know it.” He promises, and I smile wryly. He gives me one last kiss on my forehead, before heading out the door, putting his hat on and riding off into the night with Bill Pickett. I know as well as he does that it could be a while before I see him again. But, still, I’ll wait. He has my heart and I know I have his, he will come back. I know it…

[inklore]

concomitant

prompt: "you don't want me? don't lie to me."

pairing: kang the conqueror x (f)reader

word count: 559

warnings: eighteen+ content, spoilers for quantumania, implied smut, kang being kang, my usual poetic flare.

note: shoutout to my bby @tom-whore-dleston for giving me even more of an excuse to write for this hunk of a man, i may have reworked your req and made it so reader took janets place with the whole 'fix my ship' storyline, so i hope that's ok!

“You don’t belong here.” The stark contrast between the heat from his gloves and the heat of your skin makes you shiver as he runs a finger along your jawline. His face so close to yours that you can see just how deep the scars that mark his face run. How dark and rigid they are against his skin. 

You wish it would make your stomach curdle. 

Wish it wasn’t making more questions and feelings start in your belly and go lower. Further into a region that has become too accustomed to stories of greatness and realities of time you can only dream of seeing, to offer you more than this realm you've reluctantly made your home. Your body has grown accustomed to his longing glances over a new discovery, the grazes of fingers when you're working together, his mission—his presence—giving you a purpose. Something you hadn't felt in years until he came into your life. 

Until he crashed and landed, lost and bruised, just like you. 

Until he lit a fire in your blood, making you feel cloudy and irrational in your thinking, urging you to go down a path from which you may never be able to return. 

“Come with me.” 

“I–”

“You can.” He finishes for you. Smothers any words of protest or conflict with the look he’s giving you. With the way he’s touching you so gently, so unlike the conqueror you’ve seen from his mind. 

The very thing that gives you pause. Reason to recoil from him even when you don’t. 

Instead, there's an ache between your legs that keeps you immobile against him. Keeps you in his clutches, in his trance. 

“There is nothing here for you.” His fingers leave your jaw, move across your collarbone, and down your chest, leaving you breathless the lower they go. “I can give you everything. Show you infinite realities. "Give you everything you've ever wanted," he says, his palm splaying just below your belly button. Your nails dig into the tethers of your makeshift home, to keep yourself from falling completely in his arms, hands—to your knees from his promises. "All those images of me you've played in your head at night when you think no one can hear the noises you make," his lips feather-like against your ear. “Come true.” 

Embarrassment stings your chest. Sends your insides in a twist and pull against each other as your head shakes. A denial at the tip of your tongue, ready to end this and be done with it all. To send him on his way, away from your home, away from you and the temptation he’s luring you into, like an unsuspecting traveler falling into a sinkhole they’ll never get out of. 

“You don’t want me?” He tsks, smirks against your ear. His voice low and authoritative: “Don’t lie to me. It will only take longer to get what we both want.” His hand moves across your clothed mound, fingers putting the lightest of pressures on your pelvis that has your hips moving forward involuntarily. 

“Join me, and I’ll give you everything.” His mouth finds yours. Seals your fate with his tongue, giving way to every promise he’s willing to keep if you take his hand and watch beside him as he wins a war he’s ultimately made you a part of.

As he burns the world.

[ebrysteria]

Temptation

Kang the conqueror x (fem) reader

SUMMARY: you found Kang a while back when his ship crashed, you offered to help him and you've now known each other for months. You go out to try and seduce someone for an important part to fix it but he cant help but get jealous even if its just an act... Warnings: Smut 18+, wrap before you tap, jealous Kang, understanding of feelings, fingering, unprotected PnV (be responsible guys), giving into temptation

Note: So I went onto tumblr and searched for Kang fics and there were none at all?! I decided to write my own but this is my first ever time writing so please let me know if you enjoy it, I might make a part 2 and comment any suggestions on what you want me to write next.

———-

Nothing much surprised you down here anymore. It was all the same really. Landing in the quantum realm 20 years ago had changed you. Your way of living and scavenging to survive.

Most of the civilians weren’t that bothered by your arrival but many were sceptical. They were scared of an outsider being in their realm and many didn’t trust you. You couldn’t blame them though as you would feel the same if someone with no resemblance to you at all suddenly started living in your own home.

You got used to your way of living, you learnt how to hunt for food and supplies. You’ve been through a lot and have seen nearly twice as much.

But what you haven’t seen since you arrived was a ship come crashing down from the outer world. Naturally you were curious grabbing supplies just in case whatever it could be was dangerous. What you didn’t expect was it to be a man, around the same age as you.

He didn’t look like most of the people in the realm, he was different. He had deep scars running down each side of his face, travelling all the way just to the top of his plump lips.

He stood by his ship taking in his environment as you watched him, he seemed annoyed? Angry? You weren’t too sure. You didn’t know his motives so you decided to just observe.

“Damn you idiots, I’ll be back you can’t keep me here forever” he mumbled to himself whilst staring down his ship. It was smoking and in bad condition. It barely even looked like a ship with the state that it was in.

A loud screech emerged from in front of him, whatever it was was obscured by his body but you caught a glimpse of blue creatures lunging themselves at him.

You quickly aimed your blaster at the things, praying you wouldn’t accidentally hit the man. You quickly shot the creatures off of him rushing over.

“oh my god are you okay?” you asked offering your hand to pull him up.

He eyed you quizzically while dusting himself off.

“just about, thank you” he grabbed your arm as you pulled him up.

“I saw your ship come crashing down, I didn’t expect it to be a human from the outside world. You are human right?” You looked him up and down.

He wore an armour that consisted of purple and blue colours. Well what was left of the armour, it was damaged, torn and practically falling apart. Whatever happened to him must have been hurt.

“Yes very much human” he smiled chuckling slightly. “Why? Are you not human yourself?

You grinned at him, loosening the grip you had on your blaster slowly placing it in your blaster holder on your hip.

“Yes I am human, most inhabitants here aren’t, they all speak their own language and most were born here unlike us”

“Unlike us?” He said looking you up and down.

“Well yes I wasn’t born here, I broke open a gateway when experimenting with time. I didn’t expect to end up here.” you said quietly, you didn’t speak much of your past with anyone. If they knew what really happened you’re life would be over. “Besides, it doesn’t matter now I’ve gotten used to the way of living in this treacherous hell hole” you gestured to your surroundings as he looked around.

He didn’t look too surprised with his surroundings, he looked more uncomfortable. Then you realised you were still out in the open when any more threats could arise by the minute.

“Yes well this place isn’t on my bucket list of places I would like to visit” he looked back at his ship, crouching down next to it. He pulled open a panel and smoke puffed up into his face. “God damn it”

“What’s wrong?”

“My ship, it’s broken and I can’t power it. If I can then this would be my ticket out of here.”

“Wait you’re saying that thing can travel outside realms?!” you were shocked, no one had technology that advanced except from the people you worked for before your life got turned upside down.

He got back up turning to you.

“Well yes if it was working”

You looked around, it wouldn’t take too long for you to make it back home on foot. You don’t usually accept strangers into your home but he was human and you felt empathetic for the man

“hey the place I’m staying at isn’t that far from here, do you want to come with me just for tonight. I have a spare room and food. It’s just something to get you back on your feet before you figure out what you’re going to do next” you suggested. It would be nice to have some company as living alone for 20 years hasn’t done the best for you. It was a lot safer than staying somewhere with the other inhabitants but the isolation got painful at times.

“Thank you I appreciate it, I don’t even know your name yet

“My name is Y/n” you said whilst turning around beginning to walk. He quickly began trailing behind.

“Okay y/n lead the way”

“Aren’t you going to tell me yours” you said stopping turning around to raise your eyebrows.

He extended his hand outwards to you.

“Kang”

You reached for his hand, it was soft and he shook gently it.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Kang” you said softly smiling.

——————

Turns out it wasn’t just one night.

He happily accepted his room and you got used to living together, it had been 6 months since he had moved in. You decided to help him repair his ship agreeing that he would help you out of here as well and during this you two got closer. You often went out to the market to find spare parts while he helped you around your home. He cooked you wonderful meals and if you didn’t know better it seemed as if he cared for you. You managed to extend your living space to accompany the two of you. The only thing you really had to share was the bathroom as you only ever had one considering you weren’t used to living with someone. But it wasn’t a problem. You both had your own schedules and you worked well together.

You stared at yourself in the mirror humming. Tonight was important. There had been one particular piece for his ship that was very rare to come by and Kang was beginning to feel hopeless when you told him that material like that was unlikely to come by in the quantum realm but you had heard through the market-place that a man named Quaz was actually in possession of some. You planned to speak with him tonight. You didn’t want to say you were going to seduce him but you were determined to get the piece for the ship as it was unlikely you would ever have an opportunity like this again.

You ran your hands down, smoothing out your white long silk dress. You wanted to be humble but you did look good. There was never really much reason to dress up in the quantum realm so it felt nice to have some sort of normality in your life. You hand came up to the dainty necklace that hanged from your neck fixing it into place. You gave yourself one last look before opening the bathroom door.

Kang stood just outside the door and when the door opened he was shocked. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you and how your skin looked exposed by the dress. You felt him drag his eyes down your figure. He quickly looked back up and went to open his mouth but he quickly closed it shaking his head.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” he asked demandingly.

You were taken aback by his tone. You thought you looked good.

“I’m going to the bar, I found some good news on that impossible piece you needed for your ship. I was going to tell you but you were busy fixing your suit and I didn’t want to disturb you”

His eyes softened staring at you. It made you blush slightly.

“You- You look good please be careful” he said reaching out to run his hand down your arm.

“I always am careful you know that, this could be our chance to get out of this place, I shouldn’t waste time because we could lose our opportunity” you quickly rushed out leaving a quick kiss on his cheek and left the house.

He froze and stood there shocked. He feet were rooted to the ground. That shouldn’t have done something for him but it did. He couldn’t stop thinking about you in that dress, how thin it looked. How easy it would be to just pull it off your shoulders. He needed to calm down.

“Get a grip” he mumbled to himself walking into the bathroom.

As he washed himself in the shower he couldn’t stop thinking, no one else should have the privilege of seeing you like that when you're out. And what if they tried to make a move on you? Or hurt you? He wouldn’t be there to help you. Every bad thought went rushing through his head until he decided he was going to go the bar to keep an eye on you. Just to keep you safe. Right?

—————

The place was busy. Busier than usual. The dance floor was filled with swaying people and flashing lights making you feel a little energised as you think back to all the enjoyable nights you’ve spent here in the past. Typically you enjoy this type of stuff. But tonight you only had one goal.

Get the piece.

You move further into the bar, looking around for your target. You have a gun hidden in your dress so if anyone tried anything you were prepared. You looked around with caution until your eyes fell on a man, slightly younger than you drowning himself in ooze. You were never a fan of the drink, maybe because the last time you were forced to drink it to be able to communicate.

You were getting distracted just staring at the man so you moved over and took the high seat next to him. He eyed you as you ordered.

“hi can I have whatever the handsome man next to me is having” you said flashing him a short and sweet smile.

He gave you a drunk smile back, running a hand over his face shuffling closer to you.

“I must say I haven’t seen you around here before, I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours” he said extending his hand “my name is Quaz”

You took it gently shaking it, lingering it slightly longer to get him interested. You gave him a made up name not wanting anything being traced back to you. He admired your dress.

“That’s a nice dress you’re wearing”

You blushed at the compliment, flirting back with him. What you didn’t realise was a certain someone coming into the bar staring at you from just beside the crowd.

---------

He didn’t know if it the fact your target was flirting with you or if it was you flirting back but jealousy began to spread within him. He tried to remain calm, reminding himself you are free to do what you want with your life but Kang couldn’t stand it. They way some random man moved closer to you, making you smile like that. It should’ve been him. Not some disgusting drunk man obviously only trying to get in your pants. He clenched his hands trying to ground himself. Seeing you two laughing together. It felt wrong even if it was just flirting.

It was worse when he saw the man begin to make advances on you. Resting his hand on you, carelessly stroking the outside of your thigh. Every time he rubbed his hand across your smooth delicate skin he felt the heat, anger and possessiveness within him getting worse. No one but him should be seeing you in this dress. You looked beautiful in it sure but it should be reserved for his eyes and his eyes only.

-----

It turns out that he doesn't keep the piece hidden at all; instead, he stores it in an ordinary old bag at his home. You almost got him where you wanted him; you joked with him in an effort to learn as much as you can about the piece. It was so simple that it was hard to believe.

"So… do you want to go out of here?" He asked softly, bringing his hand higher to the inner part of your thigh.

All contact abruptly vanished, and you swiftly turned around to see him being pushed off of you and onto the ground. Kang gives you a short glance before tightly grasping your waist.

"You touch her like that again and i wont hesitate to kill you" he spat quickly putting a bruising grip on your wrist dragging you out of the bar.

"What the hell are you doing! I almost had it! We could've gone home!!" you yelled trying to shake out of his grip.

He didn't budge staying silent, continuing to pull you along with him until you arrived at your shared home. He harshly slammed the door shut after you both walked in.

He stares at you intensely looking at you up and down almost as if he's contemplating what to say.

"Stop ignoring me and tell me what's wrong, you literally just dragged me out of there with no explanation whatsoever" you questioned first.

"Did you not see that guys hand literally touching you all over?! Its ridiculous I should've punched that smug smile off of his face"

"It was part of my plan!" you scoffed, you couldn't believe he was jealous after you literally told him you were going to get the piece.

"The piece isn't worth that much" he mumbled looking anywhere but you. He seemed- embarrassed?

You walked closer to him "I cant believe you ruined it because you were jealous"

"I am not jealous"

"sure seems like it"

He moved closer staring at you more intensely than before "I cant believe you were going to whore yourself out just for some stupid material"

"What the fuck!! I wasn't going to whore myself out" you said, quickly pulling your dress up slightly to show him the gun you had strapped to the side of your other thigh.

He just stared at your flesh for a moment. Before slowly reaching forward to remove the gun from its holder. It was only then when you realised how close you were. How you could feel his breathing as he looked down at you. It sent hot shivers within you, the warmth spreading like some sick disease. It starts in your stomach and spreads throughout your body - a hunger, a hunger to feel him, closer, that the hunger and heat transcends within you in an unexplainable way

He clicked the gun out and then threw it on the couch. "you could have gotten yourself killed" he whispered leaning down slightly lower. Your breath hitched. His eyes darting downwards as you licked your lips, you could feel a pair of warm hands rubbing over your sensitive skin of your thighs just below where the gun was, moving upwards gently.

That's when he realised what he was doing, dropping your thigh creating some distance between the two of you. "look we will find another way to get the piece okay, just go to bed now its late" he quickly muttered storming off to his room without another word.

You felt hot all over, a part of you wishing he never stopped touching you. You rushed to your room quickly closing your door thinking about what just happened. The way his hands gripped your leg so gently as if you were the most delicate thing in the world, the slight hunger that seeped into his eyes and he traced small circles along your flesh. You wondered what happened if you continued. It was making you begin to feel wet and you knew you had an attraction towards him but you never knew he could be that...

…sensual

----------

He briskly shut his door rubbing his hands over his face. What the hell was he doing. Touching you like that. He almost gave in. Temptation was getting the better of him. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs, his whole chest constricting with the thought of him calling you a whore. He couldn't believe himself. But God the way you looked at him, the way you stood so close to him all would have to do is move an inch and he would have kissed you. claimed you as his, he wanted you so badly. watching you work for him everyday, determined to fix his ship. He wasn't aware that he was falling for you, but he ought to have seen the warning signs. The fact that he went out of his way more to be nice to you than he has for anyone else. Making sure you returned home safely, sneaking out to punish everyone who had ever upset you, ensuring that your favourite meals are prepared, and bringing you back to bed if you accidentally nodded off on the couch at night.

He should've kissed you then and there.

He got out of bed and began heading to your room...

----------

You keep thinking about the tension between the two of you, he couldn't leave you feeling like this otherwise the heat will swallow you whole. Pulling yourself to your feet, you swiftly get up and swing your door open.

Kang was on the other side, wide eyed, unblinking with his hand half raised in a fist as if he was going to knock. He stared down at you frozen on the spot.

He gazed at you with an intangible nature that is impossible to describe—a sense of learning something new, a revelation. Perhaps it was a knowing look but you didn't seem to care under the intense stare that he had you under.

"What do yo-"

And as you were about to inquire him you were abruptly cut off as he brought you into a searing kiss by cupping your face with his warm, soft hands and making you gasp into his mouth. You eagerly accepted the kiss, gripping onto him as he pushed you further back into your room.

He hurriedly pressed you against the wall to your right and shut the door behind him, his hands frantically and needily roaming your body desperate causing you to whimper in pleasure. He seems to never want to let go of you as he holds you between his arms, up against his chest, and against the wall. He makes it a goal to kiss every square inch of your face, imprinting every detail of it in his mind.

He lets out a moan as your nails scrape his back on his shirt, the flex of his muscles makes you blush and begin to lose balance from the lack of oxygen of him kissing you breathless, and he's ready to take most of your weight when the kiss gets heavier, deeper, your tongue frantically searching as he holds your face, never wanting to let you go.

"I couldn't stand it" he mumbles moving to the side of your neck trailing his plump lips teasingly, "i couldn't stand the way he was staring at you in this dress" his hand comes up to trail behind your back, pushing you further into him as he began to nip kisses into your neck and travelling lower to your collarbones causing your breath to become even more laboured. You felt him slowly tugging at the strings at your back of your white silk dress. "All i could think about was pulling it off in front of everyone and showing them who you really belong to" finally releasing the strings from the back causing the front of your dress to falter slowly revealing your breasts. "I would've made them all jealous making them know none of them can have you. None of them can make you feel the way i make you feel," he said then he quickly sucked on your nipple causing you to let out a soft feral noise.

"God those sounds you keep making are so pretty, keep going. Just like that" he encouraged looking up at you from your cleavage as his hand gropes at your breast. He moved his other hand shifting it down to the lower part of your body to cup you, a wet spot forming on the fabric covering you from his fingers. You whimper as he pulls your panties aside to reveal your beautiful puffy lips that are drenched from your want for him "Keep making those sounds for me" he whispered into your chest as his fingers dipped and found your clit causing your head to tilt back.

"Fuck Kang.." you whimper loudly again and he came back up to capture your whimper in a strong kiss. He traced your pussy lips with his fingers before thrusting one of them in causing you to release a loud moan. He kept pumping in and out of you adding a second finger and your whines kept getting louder and louder. You were getting so close, legs beginning to shake, your walls tightening around his two fingers as he curls them inside, making your back arch. You realised you were closer than you thought. He must have known because he removed his hand completely, placing it on your waist dragging you away from the door.

The back of your knees caught at the end of your bed as he gently pushed you onto it while removing the rest of your dress leaving you almost completely exposed to his hungry eyes.

"My god you are so beautiful" he said against your lips. In a tangle of limbs he began removing his clothes. You ground against him above you causing you to rub him enticingly. He let out a needy moan, gripping onto your hips harder as he used one hand to undo his zipper.

“Please don’t stop…” you begged, and the hand clutching your waist squeezed your flesh in an reassuring way that told you that he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t. Not when you tastes so good and sounded so angelical. Not when he needed you so bad. He had been dreaming of this for months. 6 months of pure torture of the need to be inside you and be claimed as his.

"You see what you do to me? Do you know how hard its been for me to try not to be tempted to fuck you senseless when you sat in the chair of my ship when you were fixing it.

You sat up eagerly helping him pull down his zip and rubbing over his covered crotch causing him to groan as he leaned forward into your neck to leave darker marks. “Don’t you know the power you have over me?”  he groans again.

You gradually begin pulling down his pants and you become dizzy off of want from the root hairs that slowly begin to get exposed with the rest of him, it cause something dangerous inside of you to stir as you wrap your hands around him. Like an inextinguishable fire that could only be put out by him.

He releases deep, grave gasps when he bucks his hips into your hand and his sloppy lips land on back on yours as if whispering a silent prayer.

"I need to be inside of you" he moans softly against your lips pushing you back down removing your panties completely. He continues kissing you with so much passion and desire. Its been so long and he's scared that if he stops he will awake from whatever dream that is possessing his senses in a crazed manor.

He began lining himself up with your entrance and looked at you for confirmation, you nodded quickly as he gripped your hand pushing above your head against the mattress.

Slowly he began pushing inside.

You sobbed in response to the sensation, reaching out for his back with your free hand and scraping your nails against his skin as you felt the sting of pain that accompanied the pleasure. Your back arched and he leaned into you moaning.

"You feel so good. Fuck.." you moaned tilting your head back further into the pillow.

He removed his hand from yours and gripped your waist plunging into you further making your eyes roll back.

"I want you to remember the way that I'm fucking you right now, no one will ever fuck you the way I do will they?" he smirked from above you.

You nodded back frantically biting you lips creating them all wet and swollen.

"Use your words love" he said while brining up a hand to clasp your chin to make you look at him. He saw the hunger in your eyes. The way he was making you feel.

"No one will fuck me the way you do" you moaned loudly as he picked up his pace. Both of your moans and whines loud with the slick lewd sounds of skin connecting.

You were getting so close, you could feel the coil begin to tighten as he pounded harder into you. Your nails dug deeper as his hips began to snap into you. "Always so kind to me, so beautiful…"

Each of his now sharp and rapid thrusts silenced your whimpers and groans. There was no room between the two of you, and you could feel it in the way he kissed you and the way he fucked you into the mattress. You could also feel it in the way his hands held your hips and hurt them as he drew you impossibly close to him.

"Kang fuck I'm close" you moan gripping onto him tighter as your legs begin to shake.

"give it to me, give it to me baby. Cum for me please, please, please, Fuck"

You moan loudly clenching around his cock as it his you. You feel euphoric as your vision clouds from the intensity of your orgasm.

As your pussy clenches him it caused his cock to twitch and white spurts of cum go up washing inside of you. Painting your walls with him. You milk him as he slows down pushing the cum further back into you until he eventually pulls out. He looks down at you and sees your fucked out droopy eyes.

He gets up from you leaving the bedroom, you go to call out for him to stay but your throat hurts from the loudness of your moans.

Not much longer he returns with a cloth crouching down to clean you up gently, staring into your eyes with a promise of him not leaving. He kisses your inner thighs before putting the cloth back in the bathroom and coming back to your room.

He comes beside you lifting you under the covers with him, he cradles your cheek like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen while he leans back and pushes the hair out of your face, straightens your brows, he kisses your lips softly, giving you fatigued tiny pecks here and there till you are content and can feel him forever.

Your heart stopped when one of his arms surrounded your waist to pull you closer and against his chest. You looked down and realized that he had folded everything including your dress so that neither of you would stumble over it the next day, rather than getting dressed. When you stared at him, It was then that you noticed it in his eyes. This desire, this affection, which he has never permitted himself to express to you. His touch still makes you feel buzzy and electrified. 

You nuzzled closer into him, maybe life in this realm wasn't as bad as you thought...

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

A/N: so how was that? I hope you enjoyed it, please comment if you do and comment any suggestions you may have for me to write.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Okay lets say the reader thought jona was like a nice gentle boyfriend. But one day she decided to go out without informing him. Mind you its really late. he worried sick. She not answering his call's. She finally comes home at like 2 am. Walking into the room and see jonathan waiting for her. He was mad. She can see that. She tried to butter him up. Because she thought it was going to work because he so "sweat" and forgive her.

Welp but that's not case this time.💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

He never got out of character with anyone. She knew he could handle business but he never let himself get to that point. He’s always so soft spoken and what drew her to him was how articulate he is and how good of an orator he is. His sweetness, gentleness, and devotion to her was unlike anything she had ever experienced with a man. He wasn’t suffocating or controlling. He had his dominate ways but it was always so subtle. Small things like gripping her thigh, or a hand to the small of her back, or words of affirmation like, “good girl, I’m proud of you, you’re doing so good.” Followed by kisses on the forehead and him constantly gassing her up any chance he gets. ❤️❤️❤️

She liked to go out with her girls, have that freedom. He’d always say, “Now, you goin’ out there with your girls, I want you to be careful, baby. I don’t play about what’s mines, and although I don’t like to chose violence, I’ll handle business over you, believe that.”

Everytime she went out, all he wanted from her was to let him know where she was going and how long she would be staying out. She got so comfortable with his kindness and easygoing nature that she slipped up and didn’t tell him where she was going. To make matters worse, her phone was dead, and the AirTag she usually kept on her was in her car and she caught a ride with her girls into town.

Jonathan is worried, then worried turns into frustration, then frustration turns into disapproval that then opens a side to him that she hadn’t seen before. All he asks is for her to let him know where she is and when she’s coming home…

[remixingreality]

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖙𝖘 | professor!jonathan crane x batgirl!reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | it can be difficult, living a double life: spending your days as a scholarship student at gotham university, and your nights as batgirl, the legendary heroine, fighting alongside batman and robin. though it proves to take a toll on you mentally and physically, flunked term papers and missed lectures will be the least of your problems when you encounter the scarecrow somewhere in the shadowy alleyways of gotham...

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 7k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | NONCON SMUT (18+ only; violent/rough sex, use of fear toxin, degradation, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, bondage), professor/student dynamic (therefore implied age gap), some angst and depiction of ptsd/aftermath, reader is dating robin/tim drake

“And so,” Professor Crane continued, looking towards the class from the board, chalk in hand, "this triggers the fear response, and all that comes with it.  You're probably familiar with the symptoms of fear: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal."

A few giggles could be heard at that, and he rolled his eyes.

"Not that sort of arousal, necessarily," he frowned.

Everyone else just brushed off the childish humor of the moment, but you narrowed your eyes, getting a sense that the word necessarily was doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.

He returned to his lecture, drawing lines in chalk over his crude diagram of the human brain, explaining how each area of the brain contributed to fear and the fight-or-flight response.  As he spoke, you re-read the handout he’d given today— and you chewed on your lip absent-mindedly as you reviewed the bibliography.

"Dr. Crane?" you raised your hand, interrupting his lecture mid-sentence.  "I had a question about some of the studies you reference here."

"Yes?" he returned, turning to face you with a slightly confused expression.

"Well you cite a paper out of Berkeley from 2002, to support the conclusion that exposure therapy is the best response to aggressive phobias— however, if you actually read the paper—"

"I read the paper, Miss," he interrupted sternly.

"Then, if you actually understood the paper," you continued, a few students gasping and laughing softly at your insubordination, "then you would see that the conclusions indicate the perceived decrease in fear response comes at the expense of long-term stability.  Don't you think that negates any positive implications?"

The silence in the room was tense: everyone was waiting for how he would respond to your critique.  Instead, he just smiled at you slightly.  "I think you may have more context for how research is conducted, and reevaluate your conclusions, when you get a chance to organize your own research— in about a decade."

"Actually, Professor, I'll be leading my own experiment this quarter," you corrected, just as he was about to turn away from you and keep lecturing.  "I'm the recipient of the Wayne Enterprises Collegiate Scholarship— which pays for my education here and also comes with a fifty thousand dollar research grant."

“Ah,” he said, bitterness dripping from his tone as he set his hands on the desk and leaned forward a bit.  “May I ask what topic you hope to explore with your research?”

“Crime,” you explained, “and criminal behavior.”

“Hm,” he nodded, frowning slightly in an impressed sort of way, taking his weight off the desk.  “And it doesn’t bother you that you’re here studying psychology?”

You lowered your brow, confused by his question.  “I’m sorry?”

“Criminology is a subfield of sociology, which is related to but distinct from psychology,” he explained.

“Would you recommend that I switch majors, Doctor?” you asked simply.

“Well, it’s no secret that you’ve set the curve on our last two exams,” Dr. Crane smiled, tilting his head slightly.  “So, no— I think I’d rather keep you here.”

You straightened up slightly, taken aback by his wording.

“Plus, while you’re still in my department,” he continued, “I have a better chance of talking some sense into you.”

With that, he returned to teaching, and you noticed how the other students were watching you before you sighed and tried to listen to the rest of class.

~

You caught up with him on a long stretch of hallway, just as he stepped up to his office door.  “Professor!” you got his attention, and he turned to you with a slightly smug look as he held his hands together.

“Ah, yes,” he greeted, “I see you’re here to apologize for how you spoke to me in class today?”

You knew he didn’t actually expect that, he knew better after having you under him for the last two quarters— um, so to speak.  “Just as soon as you do,” you offered with a smirk in return, shifting your weight on your hip.

That was what moved your button-down slightly, and his eyes drifted down to your neck— when they did, confusion and concern suddenly painted his expression. “My,” he gasped a little, pulling on the collar of your shirt with one finger to expose a healing scrape on your chest; his fingertip brushed over your skin and the golden chain of your necklace, and you jumped away slightly.  “How’d you get that?”

“It’s nothing—” you blurted out, blinking quickly, “I tripped, on campus, actually.”

“That wonky step up to the Commons?” he assumed.  “I’ve filed two complaints about that loose brick…”

“Yes,” you agreed quickly, smiling.  “Yeah, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I didn’t catch myself well while holding my books—”

“Hm,” he nodded back, “that’s a shame.  A girl as smart as you, forgetting the Commons building doesn’t have brick steps— or steps at all, in fact.”

You swallowed thickly, glancing away. 

“You sure were eager for an explanation, though,” he smiled.  “How’d you really get such a nasty scrape?  It does look like concrete, but I’m guessing it didn’t happen on campus—”

“It’s no matter,” you assured.

“It wasn’t that boyfriend of yours, was it?” he pressed.  “Mr. Drake, as I recall?”

“Wha— no!” you gasped.

“He’s not your boyfriend?”

“Well, he is,” you explained, “but he didn’t—”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Crane offered, lowering his voice slightly.  

“Of course,” you sighed, “but there’s nothing to tell.  Things are fine with Tim, I promise.” 

“He shared your interest in criminal studies, didn’t he?” Professor Crane recalled.  “Clearly, he didn’t share your scholarly aptitude, though, seeing as he’s dropped out.”

“H-he was smart enough,” you justified, “he left because of stress.”

“Ah,” the Professor nodded, “and he doesn’t take that stress out on you at all?”

“C’mon, Professor, Tim’s a good person,” you promised.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Crane replied, “but it’s the ones that act the kindest that have the most to hide, isn’t it?”

You knew there was another meaning to that statement, but there were so many possibilities that you couldn’t settle on one.

“You understand that if I suspect anything, I’m required to alert our student wellness services,” he reminded you.  “They’ll have a counselor reach out to you—”

“Listen, Dr. Crane— I didn’t come here to speak to you about my personal life,” you reminded him, “I wanted to ask you about my performance in the class so far, in your opinion.”

He paused before sighing in relent.  “I’m a little concerned, actually,” he admitted, “about your most recent paper.”

He pulled it from the folder under his arm and handed it back to you— covered in red ink.  You blinked at him, biting your lip in confusion.  “I thought these wouldn’t be returned until—”

“I worked on yours first,” he explained quickly, even though that explanation only brought more questions than answers.  “It’s still very strong, but it’s not what I expect from you at this point.  It feels rushed.”

Rushed— yeah, I remember this one.  I wrote it all the night it was due because I spent the three days before recovering from that fight with Falcone’s thugs at the docks—

“I’ll let you rewrite it,” he offered, “if you can get it back to me before I return the rest of your classmates’ work.”

You laughed a little, looking at the paper in front of you, and Crane knitted his brows together.  “You know, Professor, sometimes I can’t tell if I’m your favorite student, or your most hated.”

He smiled a little, glancing down briefly at the floor in a sort of self-effacing way.  “I don’t have favorites,” he assured, unconvincingly.  “You’re not my best student, or my worst— you’re an entirely different kind of student.  You’re nothing like those other… juvenile, moronic co-eds looking in the exact wrong place for an easy A.”

Your eyes widened a little, seeing the way he let a little irritation— disdain, really— paint his tone.  He snarled a bit as he spoke, his nostrils flaring; like he was holding it back, how much resentment he really had for your classmates.  

As quickly as it came, he seemed to shake it off, and then he smiled again… but it was tight, and forced, you could see that just as easily.  “You challenge me,” he finished quickly.  “I appreciate that as much as I detest it.”

You smiled back, somewhat genuinely despite the icky feeling that suddenly wiggled in your stomach.  “I suppose I feel the same way,” you admitted.

He opened his mouth, hesitating slightly, before tilting his head the other way and starting over.  “Could you come into my office for a minute?” he asked suddenly, a strange glimmer in his eyes behind the thin silver glasses.  “I’d like to show you my latest work— I think you’ll find it quite intriguing…”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys and started to unlock his office door, and you didn’t feel too excellent about it.

Just then, a group of students walked by, and you heard them talking amongst each other as one looked at a text message on her phone.  “Oh my god,” one said as she explained to those around her, “my friend’s at the bank right now— she said someone’s holding up the place…”

“What?” another student asked, and you tilted your head a bit to hear them better.

“Yeah, the one on Main and 57th?  The police aren’t there yet— she said they have guns…” 

Your heart started to race.  Sounds like a job for Batgirl.

Crane was in his own world, though, about to open the door.  “Maybe I can even convince you to change some of your conclusions about the study of fear,” he posited.

You stepped back, motivated to leave just as much by a strange suspicion of Professor Crane as the opportunity to stop the nearby bank robbery.  “I-I have to go,” you said, before you’d thought of a good excuse— and that hadn’t gone well for you last time, but hopefully he wasn’t going to quiz you on campus architecture again to trip you up.

He looked confused, a little sad even, as he turned to you again.  “This won’t take long,” he promised, “I’d just like to show you—”

“Sorry,” you blurted out as you kept backing up, “I gotta… you know, um… buy tampons.”

Hoping something that awkward would get him to stop asking questions, you turned on your heel and darted off down the hall, looking for the best way off campus and to a secluded spot where you could pull your Batgirl get-up out of the false compartment in your bag and get to work.

~

“I don’t like you going out there alone,” Bruce said flatly, not looking up from his hands clasped in his lap.

“Wow, really?” you rolled your eyes, feigning surprise.  “News to me.”

“You’re too young, and it’s dangerous,” he continued anyway.

“Doing all the greatest hits tonight, huh?” you smirked.  “Next you’ll say you need to keep up your identity better, study hard so no one suspects you and then finish it off with don’t touch the Batmobile.”

He sighed and shook his head.  “You can touch it, you just can’t drive it.”

“Right,” you agreed flatly, sighing as you adjusted in your spot on the couch.  You’d taken up shop here in the Wayne Manor private library: something about your interaction with Professor Crane yesterday made you want to study off-campus for the afternoon…

You knew Bruce had a point about working alone— you didn’t really want to be alone, you were certainly safer when you had Batman by your side.  The problem was that you were too safe… Bruce protected you so well that he hindered you; you’d accused him of wanting you to just stay behind and patch him up after fights rather than actually helping.  He denied it, obviously, but actions speak louder than words— and there was such a difference in the way he treated you and Robin was obvious.

In fact, that itself had driven a wedge between you and your boyfriend— one of many reasons Bruce had implored you both not to get involved in that way, but it was sort of unavoidable.  You can only do such high intensity, high pressure work alongside someone for so long before the tension is too much to bear… 

Then again, that very tension that made your relationship with Tim threatened to break it, and you knew that— you felt that, even now, as he looked at you with a sympathetic sort of stare.  You cleared your throat and focused on your book again.

“Please don’t go out without us again,” Tim asked— softer, sweeter, lacking that father-figure-sternness Bruce was always trying to muster.

“I think the people in that bank are pretty happy that I did,” you replied with a snarky smile.

“We were on our way—” Bruce began.

“It was a one man job!” you insisted.

“There were seven men on that heist team— and two more parked outside,” Bruce explained, getting more frustrated as this discussion continued.  “It doesn’t matter.  We work as a team.”

“Except when you go out alone,” you reminded him.

“I’ve been doing this longer,” he explained, standing up, “I’ve been doing it better, and I’ve been doing it on my own since you were still in high school.”

“Then why did you take me in?” you returned sharply, knitting your brows together in confusion and frustration.  “Why did you train me, why did you bring me here and tell me the truth?”

“Because I saw your potential,” he answered as he began to walk away, “not because you’re ready to save the whole fucking world by yourself.”

You shook your head in frustration— almost disbelief, except of course he would do this— as Bruce shut the door behind him.  Conversation didn’t go his way, he just left— that was normal.  Ironic, for a man who interrogated criminals on the street almost daily.

“He’s right,” Tim informed you after a pregnant pause, and you glared at him.

“Would you excuse me?  I have to study,” you explained sharply as you motioned to the textbooks and notepads laid out on the table, as you’d had them before you were interrupted by these two, “because apparently the best thing Batgirl can do is not be Batgirl.”

“Hey,” Tim sighed, “he doesn’t mean it like that… he just wants you to keep focusing on your studies, that’s all.”

“I just think it’s funny—” you began.

“I bet it’s not gonna be very funny,” Tim noticed with a frown.

“— that Bruce thinks it’s so important that I keep my grades up so nobody knows what I’m doing at night— so nobody knows that I’m not getting any goddamn sleep— but you got to drop out and that apparently wasn’t going to make anybody suspicious?” you noticed.  “You know, I had a professor ask me about you today— wondering what was up with you leaving so suddenly.  Why is nobody worried about that?”

“We worry about you because we care about you,” he explained.

You tossed your books aside, standing up to face Tim properly.  “That’s bullshit,” you spat.

“You think I don’t care about you, seriously?” he asked.

“I know you care about me, but you don’t respect me,” you explained, “neither of you do.  You two go off and do what you want, you’d rather me be your nurse than actually be out there— when you know damn well that you need me!”

“I need you,” Tim promised, “in so many ways.  That’s why I can’t let anything happen to you—”

“Well, things need to happen to me sometimes!  Isn’t that what life is, things happening to you?!” you laughed exasperatedly.  “I mean, shit, why do I go to school at all?  Why don’t you guys just lock me at the top of Wayne Tower and I’ll never ever leave and you can just climb up my hair when you wanna come visit!”

“Christ,” Tim groaned, “you are so fucking ridiculous sometimes— what are you trying to prove?  Why do you need to be out there every night beating up bad guys, whether Bruce tells you to or not?”

Instead of answering that, you simply accused: “He obviously likes you better than me.”

“Is that really what this is about?  You want Bruce to like you?!” Tim scoffed.  “Are you that shallow?”

“I want him to trust me!” you clarified.  “I want him to understand what I’m capable of!”

“You know what you’re capable of,” he replied, grabbing your shoulders.  “I know.  Is that not enough?”

You let out a long breath, looking down at the floor.

“I love you,” Tim sighed— but it didn’t sound very sweet when he said it like that, it sounded sad.

“I love you too,” you replied instinctively, but it felt oddly hollow leaving your lips.

“Please,” he breathed as he pressed his forehead to yours, “please stay safe.  You’re stronger than me, you can take a lot more than I can.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, since you both knew he was physically stronger and more resilient than you, walking away from fights that could’ve put you in a stretcher.  But before you could ask, he spoke again.

“My heart can only take so much.”

But that only proved your point, though you didn’t tell him out loud: that what him and Bruce wanted you to do had nothing to do with your strength, and everything to do with their weakness.

~

In your defense, you took the night off.

But the next night, you had to get out there— Bruce and Tim told you to stay behind so Batman and Robin could go save the day, and you?  You were holding down the fort, keeping the couch warm.  What a fucking waste; there was more evil in this city than two men could purge— there was more for you to do.  As tempting as it was to meet them at the rendezvous location they’d figured out and try to help clear out the gangsters there buying an illegal weapons shipment, you knew that would just lead to the same fight again.  This time, the plan was to go out, kick some criminal ass, come back, and leave Bruce none the wiser.

You scanned police radios patiently, waiting for just the right thing— small enough to fix on your own, big enough to matter.  You wished, sometimes, that you had less to choose from…

Units respond, units respond — 10-79 reported at West Main and 88th.

Bomb threat.  That felt manageable, and you were pretty handy with defusal in case that threat had any credibility.  You turned off the radio and stood up, looking down over the city from your vantage point on a highrise fire escape.  It was beautiful, in its grimy Gotham way: a light rainfall coated everything in a fuzzy static like old film; it made the concrete reflect the neon lights a little clearer, the whole skyline sort of slick and steamy.  

Running and jumping to the next roof, you made a path to your destination and navigated the city unseen, like any good Bat-person would.

You were nearly there when you stopped on a roof above an abandoned manufacturing plant— well, that’s the thing, it wasn’t as abandoned as you thought.  There was a glass sunroof, and even though it was dark and rainy, the light inside brought your attention to a group of men inside.  Not to profile or anything, but 4 bald guys with guns standing around is usually a good sign that someone’s up to no good…

Trying to get a better look at what was going on inside, you carefully lifted one of the glass panels and slipped inside, sneaking around the metal scaffolding as the sound of the rain was muffled and replaced with distance, echoing voices.

You crouched in the rafters, watching with narrowed eyes as the group of men faced against a figure you couldn’t make out with the shadows and pillars in the way.

“So, are we good for this deal, or what?” the leader of the group asked.

A modulated, deeper voice answered: “This is half of what we agreed.”

“My team had some… road bumps, trying to bring this to you,” the man explained, stepping forward slightly.  “We lost some of the compound.  This is what we’re offering, take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it,” the shadowy figure agreed.  “How much for what’s left?”

“The same price we discussed.”

“For half the amount?  How does that work?”

“It’s a flat rate,” the smuggler— that’s what he must have been, right?— explained with a smug smirk.  “In fact, I should charge you more— call it hazard pay, for what my men had to go through to get this here.”

“I see,” the deeper voice replied.  “How about this: I kill all of you, and take it.”

Your eyes widened; isn’t this guy alone?  He’s sure got some balls…

The group of men paused before beginning to laugh.  “You?” the leader repeated.  “This skinny guy in the suit is gonna kill all of us?”

“I can do worse than that— I’ll make you beg for me to kill you.”

Feeling the tension of this discussion reach its breaking point, you realized you needed to intervene now: leaning over to make sure you had the right spot under you, you took the grappling hook off of your belt and pointed it down.

Firing it with a metallic whooshing sort of sound, the device grabbed one of the men and yanked him up into the shadows of the ceiling with you.  Everyone on the ground looked up in shock and fear, pointing their guns aimlessly into the darkness.  Before he could even really react to what had just occurred, you dropped the man back down— onto one of his friends, of course, which incapacitated them both but saved him from a much worse fate than if he’d landed on that concrete warehouse floor.

“What the fuck?” the leader of the group yelled as he tried to fire indiscriminately up at you— but you were already running along the steel beam, following one of the men as he tried to make a dash for the exit.

A blast from your long-distance taser gun brought him to the ground instantly, and as the last one left searched for the source of your attacks, you jumped down to the ground just behind him, landing in a crouched position.  As soon as he’d turned around to face you, you’d grabbed a loose metal pipe from nearby and hit him over the head with an oddly-satisfying bong noise.

You knew the other man was still somewhere in the dark nearby, and you called out for him: “Whoever you are, stop hiding in the shadows: that’s kinda my thing,” you informed him.

He stepped forward in the cool, gray light: a man in a torn and tattered suit, with a burlap mask that had massive stitches like scars.  Batman had just warned you about this guy, what was his name again?

"My," he purred with pleasant shock, his voice clearly deepened electronically by something in that sack on his head.  "If it isn't Batgirl.  Nice outfit, very… shiny."

"Yours looks pretty rough," you noticed.

He shrugged.  "It does the job."

You smiled back, remembering finally who you were dealing with.  "Not with me.  I'm not scared of you, Scarecrow."

"You will be," he promised.

You swung first, a roundhouse kick right at his head, but he ducked and came back up at you— he tried to grab you but you slipped away.

Instead of going after you again, he ran— grabbed one of the suitcases off of the palette nearby, whatever this ‘shipment’ was, and bolted for the door into the alleyway.  You almost laughed, impressed that he thought he could outrun you, but then again this was the guy who threatened to kill four armed men straight to their face.

You chased him right out the door, but as you dashed into the alley behind the manufacturing plant— the one that faced the northern street— you learned a moment too late that he hadn’t run at all, but was waiting for you there.

He sprayed something in your face, and you coughed as a cloud of vapor filled your lungs.  You assumed it was pepper spray at first, but it didn't burn— actually, it smelled a little sweet, sort of herbal.  But the effects were almost instantaneous, the pounding in your chest and the sinking feeling in your gut, the world spinning around you.

The fear response: heart rate increase, cold sweat, overall heightened arousal.

Instantly you felt old memories rushing in— awful, horrifying ones, and even worse than you remembered them.  For a moment, there was fear with no real object, just the feeling… until he grabbed your face and forced you to look at him, at the wicked mask that seemed impossibly close— that seemed like it could swallow you whole.  You screamed, trying to turn away or shut your eyes or something, but nothing assuaged the terror.

"Please," you sobbed.  "Make it stop!  Please!"

“Nothing can stop it now,” his voice returned— even rougher and darker than before, the deep bass of it making you shiver.  “This is who you are.  Give in to the fear.”

If nothing else, he had a point that fighting it wasn’t proving very useful— but giving in meant letting the world collapse in on you, letting the darkness pull you back… the darkness you’d fought so hard to make into an ally was becoming your enemy again.  

He grabbed your mask and tugged it away; even overwhelmed with primal terror, enough logic remained for you to reach up and try to cover your face.

But he simply grabbed your hands and shoved them away.  You heard a laugh behind that horrible mask, just before he suddenly took it off.

The toxin changed his face, too— his smile was wider and his teeth sharper, his eyes totally black— and you couldn't recognize him at first.  Only when he addressed you by name did you finally put it together; "Professor Crane?" you realized with a horrified gasp.

"I imagine you haven't finished rewriting that paper yet?"

"Oh god," you sobbed, "you— you're— how can you do this?"

You struggled against him again, but he held you back effortlessly.  “I said I liked you because you’re a challenge,” he remembered with a laugh.  “But out here, you’re no challenge at all.  Just a stupid little girl in a mask.”

He slapped you hard across the face, making you stumble even more as you lost your balance, colliding with the damp black asphalt.

He descended onto you, turning you on your back when you tried to hide your face in your arm as an escape from the terrifying visions.  “I’ve been waiting for a chance to put you in your place,” he admitted with a growl as he started to pull your armored clothes off of you roughly.  “You act a little too fearless for my liking… good to know it’s all an act.”

You cried, shaking and flailing beneath him, but you couldn’t actually put up a fight like this— the darkness throbbed around you, shadows reaching out to pull you into their abyss.  “Please,” you begged again, “no!  Stop, please!”

You weren’t even sure yourself if you were talking to him or to the hallucinated, anthropomorphized energy in the dark, but neither stopped.  He struggled at times to get your clothes off, they weren’t exactly designed to come off quickly but you shuddered violently from the cool night air when your chest was exposed.  You heard a deep growl from him, and you whimpered loudly as his hands ran over your skin.  “What are you so scared of?” he asked, sounding amused— but in your mind, those hands were claws that could shred you to pieces at any moment, and you breathed so fast that your chest just spasmed and quaked.  “I think you’ve been needing this for a while…”

He roughly turned you onto your stomach, face down against the street, and started to tug down your pants.  You were too scared to even beg him to stop, to try to bargain or reason with him— you just shuddered and cried, hiding your face and hoping for relief from the dread.

He smacked you on your bare ass, once it was exposed, and chuckled to himself at your whine in response.  The next thing you heard was the sound of a belt opening, a zipper unzipped…

Was it the toxin that made you afraid he would rip you in half, when he pressed his erection against your thigh?  Or was that just common sense?

You grimaced when you heard him spit into his hand, but it fell into a whining cry as he pushed his tip against your opening.  With your pants only down to your knees, you couldn’t even spread your legs at all, making you feel even more like there was no chance he could fit.  The sick, anxious fear felt a little different now— maybe not as strong, but mostly just something new… something deeper and subtler and heavier.  It wasn’t visions of monsters or memories of suffering, it was just this inevitable violation and the sureness that you were completely helpless.

He pushed his hips forward sharply, making you scream out and instantly reach back to try to grab his hips and push them away.  He ignored it and kept going forward with a low groan.  “Mm, you can take it,” he promised gruffly.  “Fucking take it.”

You cried as he put a hand on your shoulders, keeping you pressed down painfully into the ground, as he slid the rest of the way in.

It stung, it stretched you in an awful way and went far too deep… but you were wet, you could feel it.  Overall heightened arousal… not that sort of arousal, necessarily.  He obviously noticed as well, growling a bit.  “You like this, hm?” he accused.

“N-no,” you managed to slur, but it was hard to even breathe with his weight pressing you down.  You pushed back harder against his thighs through his undone trousers, but he growled and grab your hand to pin it down above your head.  He brought the other up beside it, and quickly pulled his belt out from the loops to tie around your wrists.  “Professor,” you pleaded under your breath, feeling your warm tears mix with the cold rain on the ground.

But he was already inside you, it was too late for that— and with your hands conveniently out of the way, he breathed heavy as he started to pull back and shove back in.

There was no build-up after that, he just fucked you as hard and fast as he wanted with no regard for how you cried and struggled under him.  He grabbed your hair and forced your head back awkwardly as you sobbed.

“Say my name,” he ordered, apparently irritated by the title of ‘Professor’ — but you didn’t know for sure if he wanted to be addressed as Jonathan or Scarecrow, and you feared the consequences if you chose incorrectly.  

Still, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “J-Jonathan,” you spat out hoarsely, and he grinned happily before dropping you back onto the ground.  You struggled against the belt around your wrists— not actually expecting to get out of it, and not having any plan if you did, just mainly out of instinct.  All it did was dig the sharp edge of the leather into your skin, making you cry harder.

It rocked you back and forth on the ground, those rough thrusts— the friction inside you was hot and fast, and each time he slammed all the way in, you heard the clapping of skin on skin and felt his tip ram against the deepest places inside you.  You didn’t even realize it was possible to be bruised inside like that, but you knew you would be by the end of this.

He didn’t slow down, really, but he changed his rhythm slightly and found an angle to go even just a bit deeper into you, until you whined pathetically with every pump into you.  It seemed like the toxin was wearing off, in that you weren’t seeing things anymore, but there was still obviously a sick feeling in your stomach, and an unreliable beating in your chest, and a deep throbbing in your ears.

“You’re getting even wetter,” he noticed with a low chuckle, and you whimpered as you hoped not to have to acknowledge that.  “Fucking soaking me— poor girl, I don’t think you can help it…”

At least it made this hurt a little less, but no amount of wetness could prevent him from holding your hips painfully tight and fucking you so forcefully it seemed hateful.  You whined loudly with every movement, fingers curling into shaky fists even when it was useless with his belt restraining you.

When you turned your face to the side, you saw figures at the other end of the alley— not hallucinations, nothing scary, just passersby on the street— and you reached out for them instinctively as hope flooded your chest.  Blinking the tears from your eyes, you could see them clearer: a man and woman, older, well-dressed.  “P-please,” you croaked out in a broken voice, “please, help me— call the police—”

They heard you, and they turned and looked at you, only to grimace and turn away; the man pulled his date closer, shuffling her away with him as they kept walking.  You whimpered pathetically, and Crane laughed above you.  “That’s Gotham for you,” he mused.  “No one wants to get involved.  These are the people Batgirl wants to save?”

They weren’t the only ones who saw, either; later, a small crowd of young men in bandanas and baggy pants passed by— some of them looked young enough to still be in high school.  You prayed to anything that would listen that they would move along without noticing, but one of them saw and pointed at you two with a scoffing laugh.  Feeling as if you could throw up, you shut your eyes tight and heard the chorus of jeers as they realized what they were seeing.  They laughed and hollered; what the fuck, dude! and ohh shit and hey, she’s pretty hot declared in juvenile voices between raunchy chuckles.  You saw flashes of light when you blinked your eyes— were they taking pictures of this with their phones?  You wondered if Jonathan would be forced to stop them, if he was concerned about evidence, but he didn’t react at all… he didn’t even slow down.

Once they’d gotten an eyeful and the sight had lost its shock, they wandered away— you could still hear their voices echoing around the buildings for a moment until it all faded in with the ambient sounds of the city: sirens, horns, footsteps, and that perpetual Gotham drizzle.

“I can feel it,” he whispered to you suddenly, “it keeps squeezing me.  Such a needy fucking cunt.”

You didn’t know if the ‘cunt’ was referring to your anatomy or to you as a person, and either option made your throat a little dry— but dryness was the least of your problems between your legs, in fact you were pretty sure you were dripping now, you could feel how slippery and sticky you’d become.  Your thighs were coated, it was even running down over your swelling and neglected clit.

He lowered himself a bit, resting his arms beside your head and breathing close to your ear.  He even brushed some of your hair out of the way with his hand, wanting to get a better look at your face, and you shut your eyes.

Increasingly loud groans and sighs above you made you realize what was about to happen, just as much as the throbbing feeling inside you.

“F-fuck,” he let out in a scratchy voice.  “Fuck!”

You whimpered yourself just as you heard him choke out a sort of high-pitched, shaky moan, and his thrusts went from erratic and desperate to slower and uneven.  He twitched inside you, and you felt the flood of heat in impossible contrast to the cold ground under you.

“God…” he groaned, his hand on your shoulder tightening and digging a little too deep into your skin.  Then he laughed a little as he finally came to a stop— breathless, light, almost making him sound impressed.  With you or himself, it’s hard to say; it sounded like a laugh of relief.

A lump formed in your throat as you considered what you were supposed to do now— he’d just come inside you, raw, and it made your stomach sink (but it made your walls clench unexpectedly, too).  As he carefully pulled out, you whimpered at the way it reawakened the sting of his first entrance— especially when he first pushed inside.  He sighed heavily when he finally got himself out of you completely, and then his hands— hot, a little clammy, and strong— came into view to free your aching wrists from his belt.  

He stood up over you, and you heard him readjust his trousers before zipping them up and putting back on his belt.  “Was it good for you?” he asked with a quiet, but smug, chuckle.

Bringing your hands nearer to press against the ground, you tried to lift yourself up on shaking arms.  When your torso was only a few inches off the pavement, Jonathan put his polished shoe on your back between your shoulder blades and pushed you back down.  You whimpered as he looked down at you, tilting his head while he admired your helpless form.

“Stay down,” he ordered.

Finally taking his foot off of you, he picked his mask up from the ground, sighing as he shook some of the raindrops off of it and put it back on.

“Well,” he began with a sigh, his voice modulated by the sack over his head again, “I’ll see you in class.  I look forward to seeing what you do with that paper.”

You didn’t watch him leave; you just heard the warehouse door shut again.  Your eyes were looking blankly forward, blinking away stinging tears, looking at the way the neon lights of the buildings across the street reflected in the puddles on the ground.

~

You jolted, much more than necessary, when someone knocked on the bathroom door; it made the water in your bath ripple, though the fluffy white surface of the bubbles was hardly disturbed.  “Can I come in?” you heard Bruce’s voice.

“Yeah,” you answered, but he stopped when he opened the door.

“You’re not decent,” he noticed, turning away.

“There’s bubbles everywhere, you can’t see anything,” you sighed, and he stepped the rest of the way in.  A pause that both of you pretended wasn’t awkward occurred.

“Tim told me that you came back roughed up,” he said eventually.

You said nothing.

“I told you not to—” he began.

“I know.” 

He sighed; you kept staring forward at the white tile wall in front of you.  "What happened?" he asked simply.

“I know Tim told you already— two guys, probably Falcone’s— they went at me in a tunnel by the Southside,” you explained with a sigh.  “I was just following a stolen van, I didn’t know who took it— I would’ve called you if I knew.  I just wanted something I could handle on my own.”

You knew the story didn’t add up; Falcone’s men would’ve probably given you a black eye, maybe a broken nose, and bruises on your stomach from kicks and punches.  Instead what you had were concrete scrapes on your cheek, fingerprint-sized bruises on your hips and thighs, and thin abrasions all around your wrists.  Not to mention the jitters and auditory hallucinations from working Crane’s toxin out of your system— his voice, still in your ear: just a stupid little girl in a mask.  You’d stopped looking over your shoulder by now, but your heart still raced every time.

You knew the story didn’t add up, but you knew it didn’t matter, because Bruce was going to buy it.  He wasn’t ready to imagine the truth yet.  This time, when you heard Crane’s voice, it wasn’t a hallucination but a memory: you sure were eager for an explanation.

Bruce nodded and began to walk out of the bathroom.  “Alright,” he said.  “Rest up.”

You scoffed to yourself as he left quietly— for a detective, he still had a few blindspots.  Surely, we all do.

Left alone in the bathroom again, you were surrounded by silence once more.  In silence, it was easier to hear his voice in your ear.  Just a stupid little girl in a mask.

The shrill sound of your cell phone startled you, and you awkwardly leaned out of the tub just far enough to grab it off of the pile of towels you'd left it on.

"Hello?" you answered, irritation obvious in your tone.

“Hello, ma’am, this is Tracy from the Gotham University Student Wellness Center,” the sweet, lilting voice came from the other end of the line.  “We recently received notice of concern that you may be experiencing domestic violence.  We’d love for you to come into our office to discuss this and receive complementary counseling, when’s a good time that we could—?”

You hung up and tossed the phone away, sinking down into the water.

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART IV

************************************************************************

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: major character death (?), more plot-driven smut, strong language, anxiety-inducing themes, panic attacks, co-dependency, hot n heavy but low-key emotional s*x. MINORS, DNI. 18+

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

When you do manage to get yourself out of bed and dressed for the day, which consists of an oversized long sleeved shirt that you stole from your uncle (because you liked it) along with some leggings and long white socks, you tell yourself to take a deep breath and accept whatever fate awaits you.

You've made your bed (literally, and figuratively speaking) so now you have to... well, not lie in it...

Anyway.

You walk downstairs to smell Steve at work in the kitchen, cooking up something delicious. Eddie sees you first, on the couch.

He grins and waves. "Mornin’, princess.”  

You smile and give him a little wave. "Howdy."

Robin walks in with a first aid kit to give him fresh bandages, visibly sagging with relief when she sees you.

“Oh thank God, you’re up. These kids are already on one...”

You can’t help but snort a laugh at that, taking in her frazzled state, and you ask her what you can do to help but she just says in a desperate voice, “Coffee, please, I love you.”  You grin and nod, hearing her and Eddie fussing over his dressing as you make for a hot cup of coffee.

You can hear the kids all around the corner, chirping lively from the kitchen. Even El is in there participating. Hopper’s voice is in the mix somewhere, grunting something about “indoor voices.”  Your uncle is arguing over something with Erica, balls deep in a heated debate.

When you round the corner, your eyes first land on Nancy. She’s sitting at the bar with Jonathan. She smiles at you shyly. Jonathan greets you out loud.

“Bauman Squared is up.”

The kids all get in a tizzy of excitement. Erica’s excitement is short-lived, given her intense debate with your uncle. But Dustin is rushing over to you, blabbering about something pertaining to the lifespan of canned goods, and Mike is chiming in from the table saying, “No, Dustin, hold up, okay?  So, Bauman, this is actually how it started.”

But your uncle cuts him off, asking them why they call you that when you both share the same last name. Joyce teasingly points out that he’s Murray and you’re Bauman.

Hopper adds to that, “yeah man, get with the program. Your niece is our favorite.” He shoots you a wink, and you give him a finger gun of approval.

Your uncle is rolling his eyes, but shoots you a desperate look — “Coffee. Black. Strong. Gracias.”   Erica resumes her debate with him.

You grin as you move to go get your uncle a much needed cup of coffee, finding that Steve has stopped flipping the pancakes to look at you with a soft smile and scooting over a hot mug of coffee to you. 

But it’s not for your uncle. It’s for you.

“Two sugar, light cream, right?”   

The way that Steve murmurs the question to you makes you weak in the knees. You settle for giving him a tight-lipped grin and nod.

“Yeah, thank you,” you murmur back.

Steve moves to grab another mug, moving to pour another cup of straight black coffee for your uncle. You can’t help but notice the curve of his biceps as he does, secretly admiring his face while the coffee pours from the pot. The way his white t-shirt fits him just right, his gray sweatpants sitting at the jusssst right point of his hips.

You swallow. Fuck.

You get a hold of yourself before he’s handing it over to you. He winks. “It’s strong. I promise.”

You smirk back at him, raising the glass in thanks before walking it over to your uncle.

You don’t notice the way that Steve tries to hide the overwhelming thoughts in his brain, signaling his evolving feelings for you.

And you also don’t notice now Nancy catches it, or how it uncomfortably makes her heart seize...

But you do notice your uncle staring at you with those damn all-knowing-eyes, while Erica incessantly jabbers on about whatever the hell they’re debating. You and Murray exchange the quietest but most intense glares.

And Hopper's got half a donut hanging out of his mouth as he happens to catch the tail end of this. He wants to ask, but decides it’s best to hold off on that.

***

The day goes well. The house is always staying busy, so it keeps you all that way. Hopper is calling for a family meeting in the living room, which gets everyone in a tizzy.

The boys will always, at some point, try to take over. It takes both Joyce and Hopper to set them straight.

Your uncle makes sure to throw in his usual statement: “peanut gallery hours will follow the meeting, thank you.” 

This meeting is no exception, and it goes exactly like that.

Will makes great points, as always — and he is allowed to, along with El, given their ties to the supernatural.

Jonathan and Nancy always listen the best. One of them takes notes.

Normally, you sit next to your uncle or Eddie while Steve always takes a seat next to Robin. 

But this time, as you sit next to Murray at the end of the couch listening to Hopper try to push through his conference lecture while Dustin interjects like crazy, your heart flutters as Steve moves from the staircase over to sit on the arm of the couch -- next to you.

You sit still, not letting yourself react or look up at him. But you also forget to breathe. Thankfully, he’s too busy telling Dustin to can it so he doesn’t notice.

Robin is slowly shifting back in her seated position in the large loveseat, having been prepared to make room for Steve. She’s too grateful to have it to herself to feel suspicious yet.

Eddie, however, clocks it. What “it” is, necessarily? He doesn’t know.  Like honestly, he’s not even in the ballpark.  But still, he notices so yay gold star.

Nancy does know what “it” is, though, when she catches it.  Or at least she has an inkling.  She’s not the note taker today, so she’s able to catch it. She wonders to herself if maybe she is just overthinking it, given her conflicted feelings for Steve while still with Jonathan.

Steve is actively participating in the conversation with the adults, and you chime in as well. Once you’ve gotten a grip on yourself.

Something is being said about needing to go on a supply run, but also how they need to get over to the main field and see what is happening at the lab — which is now squared off with all electric fencing. The kids are LOUD, demanding it be them. Hopper shuts that down real fast.

“So help me Goddddd, listentome.” — Hopper

“Kids, shh, calm down…” — Joyce

“FETUSES, SILENCIO.”  — Murray

The kids relent with rolled eyes and groans of displeasure. Hopper rubs his temples, resetting.  Then speaking —

“I will be assigning roles. You will hear them, and you will accept them.  Deal?”

Everyone nods, agreeing. Even the kids. Great, you think, so they’ve learned to know better than push their luck that far…

Hopper is assigning 4 separate groups to 4 separate tasks. 

In one group: Robin, Nancy, Will and Joyce. They will be making the supply run.

In the 2nd group: Dustin, Erica and Murray will be staying here to run the command center. Murray’s the boss. He grins, but also wants to jump off a cliff for the fact he has been assigned the responsibility of managing the two loudest kids in the group. Lucas will also stay with Max, while on lookout at base.

In the 3rd group: Hopper, El, Mike and Argyle as the driver. They’ll be assessing the damage done, pertaining to the gate re-opening. They’re on Vecna patrol.

In the 4th group: Jonathan, Steve, you and Eddie. You’ll all be venturing over the fence to spy on the lab and get a look at what is happening over there, while reporting back to Group 2.

This sends Dustin to a fit of determination, as he insists that he joins your group so that he can help with the walkie-talkie communication since Lucas and Erica can man the fort. (Murray definitely takes offense to that.)

Hopper huffs but doesn’t disagree with the suggestion. “Don’t let this give you any sort of false pretenses, kid. This is the one suggestion you’ve made that is sensible.”

Dustin just grins like a dopey idiot. Then he looks at Steve. “Yay!”

Steve rolls his eyes but honestly, he’s cool with having his buddy.

The plan is to go into effect early tomorrow morning. Meaning, everyone needs to get some good ass sleep and tuck in early.

You’re in your room now, having just showered and put on your pajamas with freshly brushed teeth. You’re putting together your combat outfit for tomorrow when there’s a knock at your door.

You expect it to be your uncle, since earlier he was going over strategies with you for an obscenely long time — which is his very awkward way of indirectly saying, “hey, you’re my niece and I love you and I’m worried about you because that’s what family does.” So you figure he’s drawn up another 10 plans to run by you, and you're happy to humor him on them.

But it’s Steve on the other side, looking shy and like he might’ve had to talk himself into doing this in fear of how you might react.

You give him a surprised but pleasant smile. He stands there, returning it timidly. There is a silence that falls over both of you. Then finally —

“Can I sleep in here tonight?”

You have to literally restrain yourself from jumping at that question with a way-too-eager oh thank god, yes. Instead, you just give him a polite grin.

“Yeah, of course,” you say.

Steve lets himself in, and he looks over to see your outfit set aside for tomorrow. He nods at it as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Tryna look badass?”

You smirk. “I am a badass. I’m a Bauman.”

You expect Steve to scoff. To roll his eyes. Make some snide remark. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, with that same look on his face that he had this morning while you two laid in bed together. You can’t break away your gaze for a moment, almost hypnotized.

God, he is so beautiful. Why the fuck is he so beautiful?

Finally, you break the stare down by moving to get your combat boots out from the closet and place them beside the clothes.

And that’s when you feel it. His fingers brushing the edge of your t-shirt, hooking onto it so that you turn around. You do, letting him turn you to face him. He’s looking at you intently, and slowly he pulls you towards him to cage you between his spread legs as he sits on the edge of the bed. It’s half shy, half confident. Gentle but assertive. You stare down into his doe eyes, and you hold your breath when his fingers splay across your hips as they grip onto you. You’re so close to him now, too close yet somehow not close enough. You can’t breathe.

After soaking you in, Steve reaches one arm up to pull your neck down to his face so that he can brush the tip of his nose against yours, just like you did last night. Ever so slowly, be nuzzles. Eskimo kiss.

And then his lips are finding their way to be against yours.

Steve kisses you softly, taking his time and just breathing you in. Then he sighs into your mouth as he stands so that he can lift you up, making you swing your legs to wrap around his waist and hold yourself to him there. He turns you both around, effortlessly walking you over to sit on top of the chest of drawers. Damn, he's strong. Steve places you there, lips still on yours, before he finally pulls back.  His hands glide down to the bottom of your shirt. Please, his eyes ask. But this time, he wrenches your shirt off of you with more vigor than last night. It’s urgent, and it’s still urgent when his lips crash back into yours before wrenching himself back again so that you can tug his shirt over his own head. He grunts impatiently, wanting to not be apart from you yet needing to be skin to skin. He paws and grabs at you, needy and greedy, but something about it feels a whole lot more like love than lust.

Steve tastes like summer. Sunscreen, popsicles and June. He smells like pool water and boyfriend. And he looks like a dream. 

You wonder how in the world he would have felt if he’d been told during his King Steve era that one day, he’d be having sex with that one student who graduated a year early and didn’t belong to any niche crowd or group or clique. You wonder if he would scoff at that, wave it off. Say, nah, that girl? Never.

But the way that Steve keens into your neck right now, murmuring sinful names for you like angel and baby, makes you wonder if King Steve wouldn’t be able to understand that the new and improved Steve Harrington might just happen to be into things he never was into before. Maybe he’d gotten close with Nancy. Maybe you were a rebound. But he didn’t kiss you like that. Or treat you like that after your first time, for that matter...

And the second time was just as euphoric as the first time, just different. Steve was more in control, clinging to you and unafraid to go for it.

Before you know it, you’re up against the wall with your bare chest against it and your legs spread widely and his mouth on your ear. Tugging at your earlobe with his teeth and his shaky breathing, infused with his pleasured grunting humming inside of your eardrums. You pant and bite back the screams that you so fucking badly want to release. but you don't, not wanting to wake the entire household or get the attention anyone awake.  However, you made sure that he knew you were in pure fucking bliss with the way you arched your back into him and dripped all over his girth.

“Been wanting to be here inside you all day,” he rasped, thrusting against you. “Didn’t wanna leave this room.” His words break up as he pounds himself deeper into your guts. “Needed to — to — n-n-need you —”

You throw your head back against him, climaxing at his words for the second time in a row tonight. His arm linked around your waist tightens, gripping you like a lifeline, and he chokes into your ears — which only sends you into an orgasm unlike anything you’ve ever felt in your life. And Steve shares the exact same experience as you do when he ejaculates inside of you.

You both pant and gasp for air, your heart rates racing at lightning speed and trying to level out. You’re both slick with sweat and sex, and as Steve rests his head against your shoulder it sends chills up your arms when his hair flops and tickles your bare skin.

Steve pulls out of you, and you shiver as you feel him leave your body, inch by inch. The loss of him is overwhelming, and your legs shake. But before you can even move to catch yourself, Steve is already turning you to him with a steady grasp on you.

The way that Steve strokes your hair, moving it out of your face as he stares into your eyes again, is priceless. You can’t help it…

“You’re beautiful, Steve Harrington.” You breathe it against his face, still catching your breath. The corners of your lips twitch, almost like you want to laugh or smile. “I can’t stand you.”

Steve looks at you like you’re all that matters in this world. The pads of his thumbs stroke the skin under your eyes, softly, gingerly. He moves to press his lips to the corner of your mouth, breathing against it, “I can’t stand you either.”

Feather-like kisses are pressed to the corner of your mouth and cheek, and you revel in the glory of it, pressing your skull into the wall with your eyes fluttering shut.

Steve falls asleep first that night, with you tucked underneath his chin and with his arms holding you protectively. You let the sound of his steady breathing lull you to sleep.

***

The next morning comes sooner than you’d like.

You feel someone squeeze you tightly to them, pressing their lips to the crown of your hair before they roll out of bed. You watch as Steve’s back muscles flex while he tugs his sweatpants back over his boxers, then throws his shirt back on and heads to your little en-suite bathroom for a few minutes. You force yourself to sit up, knowing that it’s time and you’ll need to get ready.

Hopper would be so mad if he knew about the 5 hours of sleep you got, versus the 8.

You’re pulling out a pair of socks to go with your boots when Steve emerges from the bathroom, and before you can stand up and move to switch places — he’s cupping your cheeks to kiss your forehead in two lingering pecks. You smile under his touch.

You give him the shyest of looks before going to brush your teeth, re-shower and get changed.

Steve quietly murmurs to you the promise of coffee as he leaves. And he is all you think about in the shower.

You get changed into your army pants, combat boots, and fitted t-shirt. You grab yourself a windbreaker and throw your go-bag over your shoulder, ready to face the day.

Dustin is securing the command center with Murray and Erica, while Mike comes over to you carrying snacks.

“Here, I set extra aside so that you have plenty.”  Mike always treated you more like a sister than Nancy, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her. You ruffle his hair and give him a quick squeeze, grateful.

Lucas and Will are asking you questions about the trip, along with Mike, and you assure your kiddos that you’ll all be fine.

Hopper comes over to you with Murray, entrusting you with one of their guns. “You’re the group's team lead today, along with Steve.”

Steve’s got his nail bat, along with a pistol.

Murray is going over the inner workings of the lab’s field layout with you and your group.

“The break switch is in this building,' he's saying. "But thanks to Erica and Dustin, we’ve got a way of hacking into it at exactly this time. You’ll have this much time to mount the electric fence and get to the other side. Seize. Those. Minutes. Haul ass. Get to the other side.  No asking why the chicken crossed the road. Capiché?”

The way that Jonathan, Eddie and Steve repeat the word back to him makes you visibly bite back a laugh.

Joyce is giving everyone the nurturing mama bear talk, hugging everyone too many times — especially Jonathan. She has Will in her group, so she’ll be a little more sane in the head thankfully.

Nancy and Jonathan are giving each other an affectionate goodbye that Steve doesn’t even notice. Nancy wonders if he does. Silently, and selfishly, she hopes he does. But he doesn’t.

Robin is rambling about something having to do with a jump-ship plan in case the jump-ship plan doesn’t work, and if they need to establish not only a 2nd abort —

“— but maybe even a 3rd abort? and wait is there really enough backpacks that they’re taking to fit all the supplies and can goods that they — ”

“Oh my god, Robin, please breathe,” Steve cuts her off.

“Wait, what’s the jump ship plan?” Argyle’s question makes everyone whip their head in his direction with incredulous looks on their faces.

Hopper looks ready to slug someone but also like a nervous dad. After he goes back over the plan for everyone, giving the bullet points, he tells you all to eat your breakfasts and be by the front door within 30 minutes or else.

Lucas takes his plate up to sit with Max. El comes over to talk with you about the day, saying that she’ll send a signal if she sees anything dangerous headed your way at the lab. She gives you a tight hug, which tugs at Hopper’s heart. He and Murray share a very rare, quiet moment with an exchange in their eyes. Our girls.

Steve is telling the boys and Erica to follow him upstairs to Max’s room to join Lucas for a motherly pep talk, and they all follow him like chicks following a mother hen.

Eddie is being given strict instructions by Robin to follow orders and not rip his stitches that she’s worked hard at keeping in tact by mounting the wall --

...“and be on the damn lookout only so help me god or else I’ll rip them back open myself,” she threatens him.

Eddie visibly swallows and nods at that, believing her.

Suddenly Nancy is walking up to you, as you stand there still hugging El while looking over Murray’s shoulder at his computer system setup. She looks nervous as you turn to her.

“Hey, umm, keep an eye on them, will you?” she asks shyly, sheepishly. “I worry about them. Especially Dustin.”

You know she meant Steve. “Yeah. Of course.”

Nancy nods awkwardly, grateful you didn’t correct her and a little embarrassed. She points to the gun on your back, giving you a tight-lipped grin. “Glad it’s you handling that bad boy.”

She flashes the same one across her back. You chuckle lightly, agreeing with her. “Yeah, the last thing we need is for Eddie to get his hands on this or else he’ll murder the whole town.”

Nancy giggles.

Eddie snickers at the joke, appreciating your dark humor. He gives you a wry smile. “Thanks princess, but I only prefer bone crushing, eye sucking curses.”

You all eat some whole wheat eggos (even El) and some scrambled eggs. Plenty of water, plus some coffee.

Steve walks in to scoop up his plate during the last 10 minutes, and Hopper takes pity on him — given that he’s been with the kids.

“You get an extra 5,” Hopper tells him.

“Appreciate it, Hop.” 

Steve carries his plate over to the table, moving to sit by you and Murray — who does his best to just stare down at his coffee and ignore catching this in his peripheral vision. Sip, slurp.

It’s a quiet breakfast. Tense. Stiff. Everyone is nervous. This stuff never does get easier…

***

The kids all boom back down the stairs, loud as ever.

And everyone is out the door on time, minus the extra 5 minutes that Hopper secretly gave for Steve’s benefit. Thankfully, it goes unremarked but the kids.

You all put their hands in a circle because Dustin insisted a while back that you cannot all part ways without a group huddle. So it’s now become tradition. Everyone fist bumps in unison, and the four groups embark on their separate journeys.

Group 1 does well, making it into town. They have the bottom tier level of risk, which Hopper did intentionally for Joyce and Will's sakes because those are his hearts. He also adores the two girls, Nancy and Robin, of course. They carefully fill up Joyce’s car in doses, trying not to attract attention as everyone has a strict evacuation mandate that goes into place next week along with a food supply limit. They’re ahead of the game, doing everything not to give away what Dr. Owens warned them about.

Group 2 is in full swing, back at Casa Harrington. Erica and Murray bicker like a married couple, but they also high five. Lucas makes sure that Max is safely tucked in, giving her a kiss on the forehead and a promise to be back upstairs in a few hours.

Group 3 is cautious. They have to calculate every single move, given the risks. El uses her senses to tap in, blindfold on and static on the van's radio ringing throughout the car. Mike keeps watch, along with Argyle at the wheel — and Hopper navigates.

Group 4, your group, is en route. You have the longest journey to make on foot, making sure to keep their strength. Jonathan keeps watch of time, and Dustin hangs into the walkie-talkie to keep contact. You scan the area, and so does Steve, as you all walk. Eddie sings to himself to keep from wigging out, and it’s definitely giving mumbled panic.

You are telling everyone the ETA, using the compass. Steve tells the gang to keep the same pace so that they make sure they aren’t there too soon or too late, wanting to time it right with Group 2’s orders.

At some point, you gesture for everyone to pivot directions, and when Steve steps in your direction — he instinctively reaches out to brush the small of your back. It’s so subtle… yet so telling.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow mid-song, ceasing the mumbling altogether for about 2 solid seconds, before resuming as he walks. Even Jonathan raises an eyebrow, silently smirking.

Dustin misses it entirely.

Then Dustin starts communicating back and forth on the walkie-talkie with Erica, and as they start to bicker Steve interjects.

“Hey, dingus, cool it and listen to what she’s saying, please.”

Dustin huffs, whining, “but she’s wronnnng...” 

You squint in the sunlight as you look back at him, saying simply, “Listen to your mother.”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. You both just look back at your son expectantly. Dustin sighs but obeys.

Oh that definitely makes Eddie and Jonathan share a look.

Back at base, Murray is struggling to access the switch for the electric fence closest to where Group 4 (you guys) is approaching. He and Erica work hard at it, and Lucas helps as he keeps open the line of communication with Dustin via the walkie-talkie.

“This east side gate is a bitch,” Murray is griping over the channel.  “Hang tight, just pause when you guys make it there.”

Dustin and Lucas are going back and forth, while Jonathan tries to keep up with what they are all saying. 

You can see the fence up ahead, and so does Steve. 

Eddie’s singing gets louder.

Nancy speaks over the walkie-talkie channel: “Group 1, reporting.  Over.” 

Dustin speaks.  “Group 4, tuned in.  Over.” 

The other groups tune in, too.  Nancy continues in a hushed voice.  “Food supply is running low so we’re going to double up.  The mandate will be really strict.  Can’t take chances.  Over.” 

Jonathan tells her to keep them posted with the ETA.

El comes onto the walkie-talkie, asking for you. 

You take it, speaking: “Bauman squared, I copy.  Over.” 

Eleven tells you that she can see you all headed there to the lab, and that no one is nearby.  You’re safe. 

Hopper adds: “But Eddie, make sure that you stay tuned into this channel and relay it to Dustin just in case.  Over.”

Eddie’s song of woe dies on his lips with an anxious exhale.  “Roger that, over.”

Steve speaks up, “Alright guys, we’re here.” 

Dustin signals Murray, right on cue.  You all stare up at the looming electric fence in front of you.  It’s tall.  At least 30 feet up.  You gulp.  So does Jonathan.  For Steve, it’s easy.  For Dustin, well, it’s exciting.

Jonathan adds to the relayed info, addressing Murray, saying, “Yeah, uhhh, it’s pretty high up man?” 

Murray’s tone comes through, crisp.  “How high is high?” 

Jonathan visibly shrinks back as he squints in the sunlight. “Like...25-30 feet?”

Murray curses on the other side, frustrated.  “Alright, hold please.”

Steve turns over to face you all, starting with you.  “It’s gonna be a helluva climb.”

You nod.  “We’ll have to double up the speed, guys.  But for safety, let’s just do two at a time.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows.  “Why?”

You tell them it’s safest this way.  This way, two people can gauge the timing of it just in case.  Dustin immediately demands to go in the first group, which Steve shuts down promptly — like all good mothers would with their favorite child.  He starts to onboard Jonathan, but you’re already saying you’ll go as you tighten up your bag.  Steve looks at you, hesitant. 

You look back at him, giving him a nod.  “No arguments.”

Steve sighs through his nose.  “Yeah, I figured as much.” 

He’s so sexy when he isn't actually hating you, and instead just consistently miffed with you…

“Group 4, listen up,” Murray’s voice comes over the walkie-talkie.  “I’m signaling the switch now.  On my mark, it will take exactly 3 minutes for it to activate.  You’ll have 60 seconds to climb it.  Up and down.  That’s it.  Remember what I said: haul ass.”

Dustin responded back with a sigh, “Steve and Bauman Squared insist on going two at a time so…”  He dreads the next question, cringing before asking.  “Any chance you guys can…do it…twice?”

You turn around, waiting to hear your uncle’s reply and wondering if you’ll need to step in.  His befuddled response confirms, yes you will, and you walk over to take the walkie.

“Uncle Murray, it’s not very sturdy.  It’s too big a risk, four at a time.  If you can’t do it, then just me and Steve will go.  What can we do?  Over.” 

You speak matter-of-factly, which Steve appreciates.  He stands with his hands on his hips and tongue between his teeth, all hot and mom-like.  Even though for you...he’s giving daddy.

Eddie has been pacing a trough into the grass.  Please let me have company, he thinks.

Jonathan’s just quiet, wondering if now is a good time to tell everyone that he’s actually afraid of heights. 

Dustin just wants to fucking climb already.

“Workin’ on it.  Standby.”  Your uncle’s monotone voice makes you all wait. 

You stare up at the fence while you do.  Then, turning your face over in Steve’s direction, you find that he’s already gazing over at you.  That fondness in his eyes is back, and you feel your cheeks flush under the sun.  But it’s not the sun making you blush.  Steve's hands are still on his tips, and he gives you a tiny wink before turning to look back at Dustin with the walkie-talkie.  He tells his kid not to stress about it if they can’t come, which only starts a back-and-forth argument between mother and son.  But Erica’s voice cuts through it over the walkie.

“Group 4 nerds, listen up.  We found a way to do it.  Over.”

Dustin pumps his fist in glee.  Jonathan doesn’t.  Eddie realizes he’s doomed, back to being there all alone. 

Steve takes the walkie, asking, “Same timeframes, Murray?  Over?” 

Your uncle confirms it, but then Lucas is in the background saying, “Wait, are you sure this will give them 60 seconds?” 

Steve raises an eyebrow at that.  But you’re looking at the top of the fence.  The end of the other side of the line is quiet for a hot minute.  No doubt, Murray and the kids are beefing.  Re-calculating.  Beefing some more.  Getting attitudes.  Then finally —

“Erica to group 4, confirming.  Timeframes are exact.  Wait for us to signal the 2nd climb.  Standby and brace for 1st climb.  Over.”

You and Steve look at each other.  Here we go.  He fastens his backpack, reaching out a hand to you and telling you to hand over yours.  You go to protest, but he’s just insisting without budging and reaching anyway.  It isn’t until his hand starts to slide the strap down your shoulder that you huff and relent. 

“30 seconds to climb.”

“There’s a ledge up there, wide enough to stand on.”  You nod up at it as you tell Steve.  “If we run low on time, we hang there until the 2nd climb.” 

Steve nods at you, agreeing.  He turns and relays that to a very anxious Jonathan and a very antsy Dustin.  You gesture over to Dustin, telling him to toss you his backpack.  Steve goes to argue but you hold up a hand. 

“Better me than him," you say quickly. It’s a parental thing that he would insist on too, so he lets you win that one. 

Dustin obeys after seeing mom agree with…um…dad? Are you dad?

“10 seconds to climb.”

Steve talks fast, in position to pounce.  “Eddie, on go, toss that branch to hit the fence.  Double check for sparks.”  Eddie nods, picking up the large branch nearby.  You get in position with Steve.

“5…4…3…2…1…climb!”

Eddie tosses the branch.  No electric shock.  All systems go.

You and Steve hop as high as you can, climbing up like champs.  You both hustle, swiftly making the climb like pro climbers.  Steve is faster, planning to reach down and lift you the rest of the way if he gets to the top first.  But you’re almost right at the same level with him, almost at the top.

…until your bag catches.

The strap of Dustin’s bag pulls you back down.  Air catches in your throat, no scream escaping your mouth as it swings you around, unhooks and makes you fall back some feet.  But you latch back onto the wall, back down to midway.  Fuck. 

Dustin gasps, Jonathan shouts your name.  Eddie starts his shit-shit-shit chant. 

You look down, realizing that it’s way too far of a drop to just fall back down and start over.  You are literally back to the mid-way point. 

You make up your mind within a few seconds: keep going.

Steve is hoisting himself up onto the thick ledge as this is happening, and when he turns to see you lower his heart stops. 

“Bauman, what happened??"

But you keep climbing, shouting, “Steve, just keep going.” 

But Steve is not having that.  He’ll fucking wait.  Hell, he’ll wait for Dustin too.  He’s staying put.  He shakes his head, clapping his hands and reaching for you even though you still have another fourth of the wall to mount before you reach him.

“30 more seconds.”  Oh thank God, that’s plenty.

”You got this, Bauman, c’mon...” Steve’s ready to hold you again.  Anxious.  So fucking anxious.

Dustin is cheering too, along with Eddie and Jonathan.  You’re fine.  Almost there.

You look at Steve at the top, leaning over the side looking down at you. You can see the anxious anticipation in his brown eyed gaze.

“20 more seconds.  Group 2, don’t forget to wait for our signal.”

But right as Murray stops talking — the wall buzzes. 

Everything happens in slow motion.  One second feels like a whole minute for all 5 of you in your group.  Your ears perk up at the sound.  That wasn’t an insect.  That’s mechanic.  That’s —

“Was that —”  Eddie barely started to ask the question you were all wondering.

“Fuck, Bauman — !!! ”  Jonathan’s voice is panicked with realization.

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarm and horror sweeping across his entire face.

You feel a scorch so hot, fire itself couldn’t have burned as badly as the electric shock that shot through your entire body did. 

In that single second, you felt your brain short circuit.

You felt your hands get shoved away from the wall, throwing you off with blinding force.

You felt your throat snap, and you felt your heart rumble inside of your chest...

And then you felt it stop.

*****************************

:( im sorry, Steve.

author notes: I am sure that the fence thing might be weird and not accurate, but it helped my vision for how this chapter goes down. so I hope you all will be kind and not find it too "unrealistic." had to watch some stuff like the OG Jurassic Park, and get ideas for it.

tag list: @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @xprloki @eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers

[noirsfantasy]

⎯ 𝕹𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘/𝕲𝖚𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘

𝕬𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝕶-𝖕𝖔𝖕 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊𝖘/𝕲𝖚𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘

𝕸𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕽𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕱𝖎𝖈:

ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ

Some of my posts are not meant for people under age 18. I have posts that are minor safe, but please be aware that there is also nsfw content here. If you are a minor, I kindly ask that you do not read, interact with, or request any smut (please don't go through anon either).

This blog is currently under construction. Just working some things out and doing some housekeeping while I prepare my next post.

Was previously ONLY a K-pop writing account, although I am choosing to write things other than that now. Doesn’t mean I won’t ever write K-pop stories, it just will not be my main focus anymore :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

[cozykali]

This is the scene that inspired this fic 🤭

[kiss-me-cill-me]

i’m not sure if anon has already requested a character for that song but if ur up for it CAN WE HAVE THAT SONG WITH JONATHAN CRANE. also i just listened to that song for the first time in like 3 years and got major deja vu lmao 😭

also ps i love u and ur writing !!!

This is related to another ask from an anon, requesting a fic based off of Katy Perry's song, The One That Got Away. I am so sorry to both of you that it's taken me forever to write this, but thank you for your patience and support <3

Now We Pay The Price | Pt. 1

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Life hasn't turned out exactly the way you wanted it to. Isolated and distraught as you watch time slip by while you sit, trapped in Arkham, your only wish is to recapture the way that things used to be.

Warnings: Angst, whump, sexual themes but no explicit smut, mental health themes, obsession, unhealthy relationship dynamics, mention of needles, mention of sedatives, unrequited love, established past romantic relationship, ambiguity

A/N: I hardly ever write angst, so please be gentle with me lol. But with the song inspo, I couldn't help but go in that direction. Slightly nervous to post this, but also happy that I've branched out from my comfort zone a bit!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Lying on your stomach, feet in the air, you stretched the thin cotton sheets with your hand. Just enough to give them the tension you needed to glide a ballpoint pen over the fabric, scratching over and over the same mark to make it appear complete. This was far from the perfect medium for doodling - but sheets were what you had, and so they were what you used.

Even the pen was contraband. You knew you weren’t supposed to have it. What anyone thought you’d do with it… honestly, you had no idea. As if you could use a pen for anything other than what you were wrapped up in doing now - carefully and determinedly drawing hearts.

You stopped to rest your head for a moment on the pitifully thin pillow. Across the room, blank white concrete stared back at you. Day in, day out. Endless. The same room with the same walls.

Picking up the pen again, you placed the tip right in between the lobes of one of the many hearts. Scratch, scratch, scratch. A messy, zig-zagging line bisected the doodle. 

Broken.

You sighed, and started to color a different heart, filling it with blue ink that didn’t seem very inclined to stick to the bed sheets. It was slow going. The deep azure tint reminded you of deoxygenated blood, like you would see in a textbook diagram. Once the heart was completely filled, you moved dutifully on to the next.

A rustling at your door made you jump. Quickly, you stuffed the pen under your pillow, and turned up the sheets to hide your drawings. It wouldn’t be very good for you if anybody saw them.

You sat up, arranging your rumpled jumpsuit as neatly as you could. Leather straps hung off the sides of your bed, and you spared them a glance, bristling at the memories of having them lashed over your body. 

The metal door slid open slowly, until you could finally see…

Him. Your heart skipped a beat and a half as he stepped stiffly into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. He didn’t make a show of locking it, but it was still all too hard to miss the way his hand stopped short at the keyhole, before slipping into his pocket.

“Jonathan. I’m so glad-”

“Don’t call me that,” he bristled. “In here, we don’t know each other. Please. You always forget that.”

“...Dr. Crane,” you corrected yourself. 

His tone was so bitter that you could feel it in the very back of your throat, trying to claw its way down to your heart. You swallowed, trying to bite back the taste.

“I’m sorry. I was just happy to see you.” You smiled, pushing through your discomfort, for his sake.

Crane was clearly agitated. He took a few steps into the room, before turning around and facing the door. For one brief moment, you couldn’t see his face, until finally he turned back. His eyes were ice as they stared down at you.

“Do you have any idea how difficult you’ve been making things for me?” he spat. 

The accusation hurt, of course. Though you knew very well what he meant. You had been acting out, more than usual, as of late. And although it wasn’t without a purpose, you could see that it was wearing him thin. But… how else were you supposed to see each other? 

Arkham Asylum wasn’t exactly known for its model patients. It took a lot to get Dr. Crane’s attention.

“If we spent more time together, I wouldn’t be so difficult,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even.

Crane pinched the bridge of his nose, in that way that you were well acquainted with. He’d always had that habit. Back when you’d first met, you had loved making him get frustrated - just enough for a laugh. Some things never changed.

“You’re really backing me into a corner,” Crane sighed. “And I really wish you wouldn’t.”

“Let’s talk,” you offered, patting the bed. “That’s what you’re here for, right?”

Crane, reluctantly, sat down. You could sense his exhaustion in the way that he almost collapsed onto the bed, hands gripping the edge for support. You inched a bit closer, enough so that your knees touched briefly. Crane pulled away.

You wanted to reach out; put a hand on his shoulder, just like you’d done so many times before. He used to like it when you touched him. Sometimes, you liked to think that yours was the only gentle embrace that he had ever known. Maybe it was silly, but the thought of it always made you feel better.

Now, Crane’s eyes held nothing but menace as he glared over at you, as if you were a stain on the bed sheets. You wondered, vaguely, what had happened to change things.

So much. So much that had led you to this place, where you could be so close to him and yet felt more separated than ever.

“I hate to say it, Doc, but I think I’m going crazy in here,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He barely had a reaction; a deep sigh the only hint that he’d heard what you said at all.

“And why do you think that is?” he asked, finally. 

The psychiatrist in him always came through to shove even more distance between you. Like a shield, put up just when you’d started to press through the fog of tension that hung heavy in the room. You swallowed your frustration at being kept out, and tried to answer him honestly.

“Because I barely get to see you,” you replied.

That was the wrong answer, and Crane’s shoulders swung abruptly to face you. 

He was scary like this. Almost scary, anyway. If you didn’t know him better, the look in his eyes would have sent you cowering. 

But you did know him, so well, and you remembered with sudden clarity that he’d always been bothered by feeling inadequate. You felt awful; you hadn’t meant to imply that he wasn’t doing enough.

“I’m sorry,” you soothed, before he could say anything. “I know that you’re busy, but-”

“But you continue to make yourself into a problem,” he hissed. “You know the only reason you’re in here instead of rotting away over at Blackgate is because of me, right?”

You nodded, too shocked by embarrassment to speak.

“Then for my sake, why don’t you act like it?”

“I’m…” You paused for a moment, sharp tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m just… lost without you,” you whispered. “You know that. I always told you I would be.”

The first tear fell, and you tried to hide your face.

“Don’t cry,” Crane sighed.

You could hear the harsh tinge of annoyance in his voice, and wished that it was anything else. Even his pity would have been better than knowing that your feelings were now nothing but inconvenience. You choked on your own throat, trying to stifle a sob.

“Please don’t cry,” he mumbled, slightly softer this time.

But now that you’d started, you couldn’t make yourself stop. If anything, the tears were only coming faster, and you felt yourself start to shrink into your own chest. The little black pit that always seemed to sit there, now swiftly opening up to swallow you.

With a deep and lingering exhale, Crane pulled you close. Suddenly, you were back where you both had been, so many years ago: one person’s cheek pressed into the other’s shoulder. Tears soaking into fabric that seemed to be stained with sadness. You let out a half-laugh, half-sob, and nestled into the crook of his neck.

“Remember when I used to do this for you?”

Crane stiffened slightly beside you.

“Things have changed since then,” he muttered. 

Your memory suddenly flashed back to the first time he had used the words “dysfunctional attachment” to describe you. That had hurt worse than anything else. Even more than all of the other occasions to come, when you’d heard those same words and worse fall from his lips. They could never truly compare to that first time, when your whole world had come crashing abruptly to the ground.

His arm dropped away from you, but you kept your face pressed into his shoulder.

“Things haven’t really changed,” you said. “I still belong to you.”

“You don’t.”

Two words that stung worse than hundreds of needles. You tried to pretend that the wind hadn’t been knocked out of you, as you replied.

“I do. And I will. Always.”

You looked up at him with wet eyes, a trace of the old life that you’d shared together still evident deep within your pupils. Even if only the memories of it lived inside of you, they still lived. They were still something.

“You need to move on,” Crane said flatly. “I know it’s not easy in here, with me…” He sighed. “I did what I could to protect you, but maybe it would have been better if I had just stayed out of your case. Blackgate would have at least given you distance.”

“I don’t want distance,” you whispered. “I just want to be with you.”

“You can’t be.”

Always so stubborn.

“I could be, if you’d help me get out.”

Confusion flashed across Crane’s face, quickly replaced with raw terror. 

“Escape Arkham?” His eyebrows furrowed, nearly knitting together. “You can’t be serious. Do you even realize what-?”

“I know, I know,” you hummed. “But just think - we could run away together, just like we always talked about.”

“Stop.”

“Don’t you remember? We promised-”

“Things. Change.” Crane’s voice almost shook as it thundered.

You brought a hand up to his face, gently coaxing until he looked at you.

“But they don’t have to,” you breathed. 

Your eyes drifted down to your wrist, to the space just below your thumb, and over the little tattoo that was etched into your skin. A heart - just like the ones littering your blanket, hidden carefully from Crane’s view.

“Remember when you gave me this?” you asked, holding up the tattoo in front of him.

“No; I remember you doing that to yourself.”

“At first, sure,” you chuckled. “But then, you helped me to finish it, ‘cause-”

“Because I didn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Crane muttered. “Just like you always seem to. Even now.”

You ignored his remark as your hands drifted down to collect one of his pale wrists, then lifted up to your face. The sleeve of his suit jacket slipped back, revealing the spot where once, long ago, you had given him the same mark. Just with a felt-tip pen; he would have never allowed you, even back then, to deface his own body in the same way you had yours. 

At the time, the impermanence of it hadn’t seemed to matter. You’d been too distracted; elated by the way that his and your matching blossoms of ink had pressed up against each other as you’d held hands. 

Now, you pressed a kiss to the blank space.

“Us against the world, Jonathan. Remember?”

Suddenly, his fingers pressed into your face, digging into the sides of your chin as he forced you back into focus.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, once again. “How many times do I have to tell you? That life doesn’t exist in here.”

Your hands still dangled from his wrist as he continued to crush your jaw, not letting you look away. But this was the one part of him that you didn’t want to face. The part that didn’t need you anymore.

“Jonathan. You know the reason I’m in here, don’t you?”

“Are you asking if I know about your case? All of the crimes you committed?” he huffed. “Because yes - I was very involved in the trial, and it was nearly impossible to keep everyone else in the dark about…”

Us was the word that he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“That’s not what I mean,” you said. “I mean, do you know why I did those things?”

“Stop - please don’t tell me this again.”

“I did them for you,” you cried, your emotions getting the better of you again. “I do everything for you. So don’t you dare pretend you don’t need me, when really the only fucking reason you’re not stuck in here with me is because I always-”

“Stop.”

Crane’s hands tore away to grab you by the shoulders, wrenching you back to reality. Somehow he always managed to do that. To pull you straight out of the riptide, just as it was about to sweep you away.

“I never asked you to do what you did,” he hissed, articulating each word between clenched teeth.

“But I did it anyway,” you spat. “Because you always get into trouble. Because I told you I’d be there for you, no matter what. And because I always keep promises.”

“I don’t need you to anymore.” Crane’s hands squeezed you uncomfortably. “I don’t - I didn’t need you to ruin your life for me.”

“My life isn’t ruined if it’s for you.”

“Jesus Christ…”

Crane’s hand came up to rake through his hair, but before he could pull away fully, you caught him. Fingers clenched tight to the front of his suit, you pulled back and forced him to fall with you. Your back hit the bed, and Crane scrambled to catch himself before his full weight could slam into you. His body perched just above yours, caging you in his arms.

“This. You must remember this.” 

Your words were a whisper, barely loud enough to pass from your lips to his ear, despite how close he was. Your legs frantically came up to tug at his waist, trying to force him closer.

“This was the only time I felt alive,” you continued. “When we were like this. You remember.”

How could he not? You could still live in that moment, if you tried hard enough. As if it had been only yesterday. Both of you nervous and fumbling, nearly falling off of the bed as he hovered over you and you clung to him. 

The way that your bodies had melted together, almost desperately, in a way that had made you feel certain that neither one of you would let go. Letting go then had meant something worse than death; it meant a life that dragged on without you and him together. 

The stale echoes of passion still rang in your ears as you looked up, silently begging for him to rekindle the spark that had been there.

Crane’s expression was all but impossible to read. His face half-hidden beneath bangs that fell into his eyes. The two-second pause was like a lifetime as you awaited his answer.

“Of course I remember.”

Your heart soared, flying recklessly up.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s the same now.”

Broken. Smashed hard against the cold floor of your cell.

“I don’t believe that,” you breathed. “I can’t. I-”

“You need to,” he interrupted. “Because it’s the truth.”

You stayed stock still on the mattress as Crane briskly pushed himself up, disentangling himself from your limbs. He exhaled as he tugged at his jacket, trying to make himself presentable. 

You weren’t sure how he could find the nerve, after ripping your whole world apart.

“I’m upping the dose on your sedatives,” he informed you, still not meeting your gaze. “But I would prefer if you could find it within yourself to behave so that I don’t have to. I don’t like to do this, but-”

“Appearances…” Your voice drifted through the room. “Have to be kept up.”

He had told you as much, probably dozens of times. Just like he’d told you the old life between you no longer mattered, or even existed. If it ever had.

“I’m glad you understand,” he said shortly. 

His back was already turned, but you looked up to watch him drift out of the room, quickly pocketing the keys on his way out. 

Your head fell back, hard, but the sensation did nothing to ground you. You felt all too lost and adrift; trapped in a situation you had created. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end up.

Your hand drifted silently under the pillow, and wrapped around the barrel of the pen that was still hidden there. 

Suddenly, grotesque understanding of all the reasons why no one would want you to have such a thing flooded into your consciousness. The possibilities were many and bleak, but they all led back to the same conclusion. It was just like you had told Crane earlier.

If your life together didn’t exist in this place, then the only solution was to leave. 

You smiled. With resolve swirling dangerously inside your veins, you vowed to make sure that nothing like this ever happened again. You were going to be together, no matter what. 

There would be no getting away.

This fic now has a Part 2! Read it HERE

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 14

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Stick around at the end for a special note — new SB fic dropping soon!

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! We return to the smut! Plus a healthy dose of fluff, angst, action, moral quandaries, and feels.

 Part 14: Safe House

Jon lied in his hospital bed, frowning hard at a computer screen. His arm and collarbone were broken, along with a few ribs. He had a private room, at least, courtesy of Vought. 

Stan Edgar strode in following a quick knock on the door. 

“Hello, Jonathan. I meant to visit you earlier,” said Stan. Jon stared at his boss, silently simmering. On his laptop played footage of the destruction wrought on the Lower West Side by a major car chase.

“How are you feeling?” Stan asked.

“Why was Black Noir set loose on my wife and daughters?” he seethed through gritted teeth. Damn how the effort of keeping still was almost as painful as moving.

“Ex-wife, isn’t it?” Stan said, raising a brow.

Jon was not amused.

“I gave the order, yes,” Stan acknowledged. “On your eldest daughter.”

Jon was incensed. If he could get out of this bed, he’d very well contemplate strangling the other man. Stan seemed to know it, but considering his personal security guards were standing near the back wall of the hospital room, he also didn’t look worried.

“Why?” Jon asked, genuinely surprised and dismayed. “She’s not a threat.” 

“Soldier Boy kept her for a reason,” Stan pointed out. “She brought him to our doorstep, with the intention of helping him assassinate me…eliminating her was a calculated risk.” 

Jon shook his head.

“But since Noir has failed, we will have to prepare accordingly,” Stan said. 

Jon glared back at him. “You think I’m going to help you?”

“I think you have a job to do,” Stan returned. “It didn’t stop you from breaking your daughter’s ribs, and very nearly her neck.”

Jon faltered, a brief regret weighing his frown. 

“That wasn’t…that was to teach her a lesson.”

Perhaps he’d gone a bit too far, but he’d only been trying to subdue you. To get you to listen to him. But you’d always been stubborn.

Stan broke him from his thoughts.

“I am not being attacked, Jon,” he said. “We are. Your daughter is a part of it.” 

“Marie and Luisa are not. Leave them out of this!” 

Stan merely rose a brow. He folded his hands behind his back and withdrew. He was flanked by his bodyguards as he left the room. 

“Rest up, Jonathan,” he said. “I’ll need you soon enough.”

The master bed was actually pretty comfortable, as you and Ben found out. 

You clung onto his shoulders after both of you were spent. You panted for breath as he held you to him with his solid arms wrapped around your waist. You two were both kneeling, technically, in the middle of the bed.

Your thighs were molded to his hips, and he was still buried deep inside you. But as of yet, you had no reason to move. You were enjoying your vantage point above him, watching him collect himself with closed eyes. 

The simple truth of it was, you’d missed him. 

Even when he was being a stubborn pain in the ass, you hated every moment you had to watch him caged, watching him start to think he may never get out.

Your hands slid around to his back. It allowed you to hold him in more of an embrace as you caught your breath. 

When his eyes opened, you met him with a smile. You slipped your fingers through his sweaty hair. Holding your free hand at the nape of his neck, you pressed your lips above his brow. Then another kiss to his scratchy cheek. His beard had gotten overgrown.

“You need a trim,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh. You kissed his cheek again. Slow, and with purpose. 

Ben let out a sigh through his nose. His eyes closed again at your gentler kisses, your touch. Maybe he reveled in this—being able to hold you back. It felt right. 

If he was honest with himself (and this time, he was), you were somehow able to ease the frayed edges of his mind. Edges that had been starting to unravel in that cell. 

And there were other things too, that he was beginning to realize, but not yet willing to cement in his mind.

So you reluctantly detangled from one another, but remained in bed. The problem was, for whatever closeness you two had just shared…you weren’t quite sure what to do now.

You hesitated to ask him just what the two of you were doing. Mostly because you didn’t want to ruin whatever this was by labeling it. 

So instead, you relaxed against his chest and pulled the blankets over you both. Ben didn’t just tolerate it; he settled a heavy arm across your lower back and over your hip. It made you smile.

“Ben…what do you want from the rest of your life?” you asked. 

You didn’t know what possessed you to ask, but you had to wonder what the end goal was for him, after the issue of Vought was settled. After he presumably kept his end of the deal and retired to South America, or Europe, or wherever he wanted to go, really. 

His hand came up to pet your hair. “I just got some of it.”

You huffed a laugh, hiding your face into his chest for a moment. You couldn’t see it, but Ben grinned at how easy it was to embarrass you, for how wanton he knew you could be.

“Come on, seriously,” you said. 

“Seriously?” he teased. 

“Yes,” you said, despite a giggle.

He let out something of a sigh. Meanwhile, his hand drew lazy patterns up and down your naked back.

“I always thought I had time,” he confessed. “To settle down. Have a family…I actually thought it would be Tess.”

That thought was accompanied by a bitter chuckle. Your brows furrowed in question. 

“Crimson Countess,” he explained. 

“Ah.” You nodded and rested a hand across his lower abs, playing with the thin trail of hair there that led south. He found it strangely soothing, if a hint arousing.

“Was it difficult killing Homelander?” you asked. 

Ben scoffed. “Just chock full of questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You sat up and propped an elbow on his shoulder, so he had to look at you. 

“Not physically. Emotionally,” you said. God forbid you ask him about his man feelings, but you really were curious. 

Ben eyed you with a raised brow.

“I know he wasn’t really your son,” you said. “He was a raging psychopath and needed to go down, but was there a part of you that…was it hard for you?” 

Ben’s mood dimmed as his lips pulled into a frown. “He was a true disappointment. Barely a man.” 

That didn’t quite answer your question, but you thought you could read some of his true feelings on the matter. You didn’t think he regretted killing Homelander. But maybe he mourned the connection he could’ve had with a son. From what he’d said about Crimson Countess, you knew he wanted a real family.

That softened you. You brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes with delicate fingers. 

“He was told he was a god his entire life. That’s what happens,” you said. 

Ben scoffed at that, his gaze cutting away from you. You didn’t know what that meant exactly.  

“And you?” he asked, turning back to you. “What do you want from all this?” 

“Besides my family safe?” you retorted. But then, you considered his words. “I don’t know. I thought I knew who I was before I met you. Now I’m realizing that I can’t control anything in my life.” 

Ben raised your chin, and therefore your face up to him. 

“You can control you. You’ve been doing that since I met you.” His thumb swiped against your lower lip. “Especially this fucking mouth.” 

You smiled. “But you like that though.” 

His lips pulled at amusement, huffing in response. 

“Come on,” you teased. You moved, slipping a leg over to straddle his lap. You delved into his hair with both hands, and he let you tug his head back as he now looked up at you. 

“Admit it,” you said cheekily. “You like my mouth. Talking back to you…on you…and getting you off.” 

All while you spoke, you brushed your lips across his cheek, down his jawline, pressed a nipping kiss along his neck, below his ear. Then you returned to his lips. But you also ground down into his lap, feeling his rising length brush against your wet folds.

He groaned deep as you plied him the way you’d learned to do. And your tongue slipped into his mouth with your next kiss. He gripped your hips tight, wordlessly urging you to lower down into his lap and onto his waiting cock. But you resisted. 

“Say it,” you demanded. 

When he merely smirked, denying you control, you lowered a hand to take a firm hold of his cock. He let out a low hum of pleasure as you pumped him a couple of times, then held him poised at your entrance. 

“I’ll give you what you want,” you said, brushing his lips. “But first, tell me how much you missed this.”

His next breath came out sharp as you squeezed his cock in your hand. You knew you’d find his fingerprints on your hips and ass in the morning, but you didn’t care. Because you were about to fucking win. 

“Fine,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Maybe I’ve been craving this, more than a fix. More than goddamn sleep.” 

Ben’s eyes were dark with lust, and he thumbed at your lower lip. 

“And this fucking mouth. Gets you into all kinds of trouble, baby doll.” 

You smirked and finally sunk on top of him. His cock slid past your folds and bottomed out inside of you, making you shudder and Ben groan in relief. 

You did exactly as you promised. With your hands braced on his shoulders, you moved over him nice and slow. 

Well, nice for you. Torturous for him. 

He cast his head back to the headboard as he fought not to make you move. 

“You’re fuckin’ killing me here,” he growled.

Your mouth curved into a grin. 

“Alert the media,” you said. “We’ve got the ultimate weapon against Soldier Boy: a slow ride on his dick.”

Ben’s rich laugh rumbled out, crinkling his eyes at the corners and making you smile. You felt the impact of his laughter deep inside you, which wasn’t unpleasant. But you had mercy on him and finally picked up the pace. He grabbed a fistful of your hair for leverage while your lovely tits bounced in his face.

Then his fingers slid between you, parting your folds to rub at your clit. It made your hips stutter as you let out a mangled moan. Your inner walls started to tighten around him, earning you another muttered curse. He couldn’t help but thrust up inside you, mostly in time with your movements. 

But he got impatient.

He grabbed your hips tighter and flipped you over, with your thighs wrapped around his hips. 

“The moment I saw you, I knew I’d have you,” he gritted out. “Fuck, just like this.”

You gasped as he pounded deeper inside you. You felt like the bed was going to swallow you up. But you pressed your heels into his lower back and held on for the rest of the ride.

Within moments, Ben spilled into you so hard and fast that it took both of you by surprise. It felt hot and tingling inside you, making you shudder again. 

Thank God for IUDs, you thought. 

And when his fingers found your clit again in time with his last wild thrusts, it was enough to tumble you over along with him.

Afterwards, Ben braced himself on the headboard as a line of sweat dripped down the column of his neck. You grabbed onto his free hand while you caught your breath. His lips tugged at a smirk, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. 

“And we’re not done,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”

Ben woke to the annoying sound of coffee percolating. A normal man would have slept right through it, but thanks to his sensitive ears, he was up at… 

Christ, it’s 11 in the morning. He noted the digital clock on the nightstand and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He actually slept all night. And all morning. 

Up until recently, that had been impossible. 

He heard puttering in the kitchen, knew it was you because of your soft humming. It drew a smile to his face without him realizing. 

He climbed out of bed, showered, shaved and trimmed off the wilder parts of his beard, and dressed casually with the clothing he found in the closet. Wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would do for now.

This house was also not what he was used to. It was small, and too “suburban dad” for his taste. But he guessed it was better than an underground glass prison cell.

He ventured into the kitchen, where the smell of good food made his mouth water, and the sight of you frying bacon (trying not to get burned by the sparking grease) deepened his grin.

All you wore was his discarded shirt from yesterday, presumably over your underwear as it hung around your thighs, and a pair of slippers you must’ve found in the closet. 

Maybe you heard him coming, because you glanced back over your shoulder and met him with a smile. But it soon edged into a more serious look as you turned and leveled him with your spatula. 

“Okay. I don’t want any smartass remarks,” you warned. “I did make breakfast, because I’m a nice person, but don’t expect this for every meal.” 

Ben raised a wry brow.

“Morning to you too,” he drawled. He rested a hand on your lower back as he looked over your shoulder, surveying the plate of cooling bacon, the pan of scrambled eggs, and the toast ready to be buttered on the counter, next to a jar of strawberry jam. “Looks good.”

You watched him steal a piece of bacon, your lips quirking.

“Is that a thank you?” you asked. 

He purposefully bit into the bacon instead of answering. You gave him a narrowed look, but you were still amused. 

“Even a child can say please and thank you,” you pointed out. 

Ben turned to you then and hooked an arm around your waist, suddenly pulling you tight against him. 

“All right. How about this?” he replied. His head bowed and kissed you thoroughly. He tasted coffee and jam on your tongue. A surprised moan caught in your throat, and you clung to his arms on instinct. Meanwhile, free hand went to your hip, bunching the material of the stolen shirt.

When he broke from you, he looked down on your somewhat dazed expression and had to temper his smile. He gave you a nice slap on the ass, shocking a yelp out of you. 

You shot him a dry look.

“Is that please, or thank you?” you teased. 

Ben rolled his eyes and kissed you again, trapping you against the counter this time. But he didn’t allow himself to get carried away (yet). He swept back strands of your hair and let his fingers skim across your cheek, feeling your skin warming under his touch. 

He finally settled on brushing his thumb across your bottom lip, meeting your eyes.  

“Thank you,” he said.

It had a deeper meaning, you realized from the gravity of his gaze.

“That fucking bitch probably wanted to put me on ice the second they brought me in,” he said. 

You could only assume he meant Grace. 

“You’re probably the reason that didn’t happen,” he continued. “And that I’m here now.” 

Emotion threatened to choke you, beginning to sting your eyes. You cleared your throat and soothed a hand along his forearm. 

“You made the deal,” you pointed out. Ben shook his head.

“You were right. I want the fucking target off my back, once and for all,” he said. He touched where a smattering of bruises from the car accident colored your temple and part of your cheek with fading purple and yellow.

“But I’m getting it off you too," he said gruffly. "You want a deal? Here it is: no one’s fucking touching you again as long as I’m around.”

Your breath hitched as your heart began to hammer in your chest. You wanted to ask what that meant. You wanted to ask if, maybe, he wanted to be with you. If he…

But you lost your nerve.

“The eggs are gonna get cold,” you said in a coarse whisper. 

Ben smirked. 

“That’s really what you’re fucking worried about?” he asked, shortly before he cut off your would-be reply with a heated kiss. 

Your arms twined around his neck, almost of their own volition. He already had you by the waist, and from there he hefted you effortlessly onto a small clean portion of counter space in the kitchen. His hands burned up your thighs, underneath the overlarge shirt. When he encountered nothing but bare ass, his lips curved against yours. 

“What a naughty girl. You’re out here cooking with no fucking panties on?” 

It was your turn to smirk as you held a hand to his cheek. He did in fact trim the beard. 

“You like that, don’t you?” you remarked. 

His dark chuckle was your answer as he spread your thighs wider. Your breath came out a bit shakier as his hand went smoothly up the inside of your thigh and slipped between your folds. 

“Already wet for me, I see,” he said. His smirk only grew as you whined with pleasure at the invasion of his fingers. First just teasing inside your entrance, working you up. Your grip on his neck tightened, your nails digging into his shoulders. 

“Ben…”

“How many fucking times I gotta tell you to be patient?” 

“Ugh.” You dropped your forehead into the crook of his neck. “You are the worst.” 

His resulting chuckle reverberated in your chest and tingled down into your lower belly. Combined with his teasing, it made your inner walls tighten on nothing from anticipation…until two of his fingers suddenly sunk deep into your heat. You cried out into his ear in surprise. 

“Ben,” you breathed, but it ended on a moan as he finally began to give you what you wanted. His thumb found your clit and circled slowly while he thrust and turned his fingers inside you. You gripped at his hair, holding on tighter and tighter as your walls clenched on his hand. 

“That’s it, baby doll. I gotcha,” he muttered. Though you teased a grunt out of him when you snaked a hand between you to palm at the bulge in his jeans. If he was going to give you a good morning, you’d be sure to return the favor. 

He kept working on you, but with shaking hands you unzipped his pants and aimed to free him from those tight boxer briefs. 

Unfortunately, your cell phone ringing halted both of your plans. It was on the kitchen counter, and it vibrated across the tile next to you. 

Butcher calling…

Both of your heavy breathing accompanied the shrill sound. But when you noticed the caller ID, you gave Ben a rueful look. 

He frowned in annoyance, but he withdrew from you, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before he grabbed your phone and answered it (even if it took him two or three angry tries on swiping the green button). You put it on speaker. 

“What?” Ben grouched into the phone.

“Apologies for interrupting what I’m sure is a dewy morning after,” Butcher said with all due sarcasm. “We’ve got a lead on Neuman.”

You raised a brow at that. Tugging down your shirt back over your thighs, you answered, “Where is she?”

“She’s giving a speech at NYU this afternoon.”

You frowned. You knew for a fact he hadn’t run that by the whole team. 

“It’s not a good idea to catch her there. Too exposed. Too many people could get caught in the crossfire,” you said. 

“Her next scheduled outing is a fundraiser for the homeless. That any better?” Butcher asked with mock cheer. “At the least the college kiddos won’t be coughing up a lung because their hepatitis A’s on a flare up.”

Ben’s lips twitched at amusement, but your frown only deepened in irritation. 

“You’re unsavory, you know that?” you said, rubbing at your temple. “…Fine. We’ll catch her at the college.” 

“Wasn’t really up for fuckin’ debate,” Butcher replied. “We head out in two hours.”

This isn’t going to be easy, you thought. 

You were teamed up with M.M., Annie, and Hughie on surveillance, sitting in Frenchie’s van on one of the side streets outside the auditorium where Victoria Neuman was giving her speech.   

Kimiko and Frenchie had formed a perimeter with Butcher on the campus. After the speech came to a close, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had worked out where Victoria would likely be escorted out to get back to her limo. 

But you forced yourself to take deep breaths. You watched the various camera angles you and M.M. had been able to hook up to the monitors inside the van. On one of the screens was Ben in his full Soldier Boy gear, sans helmet, waiting for his cue.

You felt M.M. glancing at you, and you met his stare. His expression was tight, but mostly stoic. Still, you had a feeling you knew what he was thinking. 

“He can do this,” you said. 

M.M. shook his head and faced the screens. “You think you can fucking change him.”

“No,” you said. “But he just might surprise you.”

You weren’t trying to change him, nor were you trying to free yourself anymore. He’d caught you, in more ways than one. 

Now, you were just trying to help him. And maybe, help yourself. 

“I don’t give a fuck,” M.M. bit out. Annie and Hughie glanced at both of you in thinly veiled concern. You just quirked a humorless smile. 

“I think you do,” you replied. 

“All right, look alive,” Butcher said on the comm. Victoria’s speech was over. She was shepherded off the stage by her bodyguards while the president of NYU got up to make closing remarks. 

She got as far as the hallway leading to the back door of the auditorium before Frenchie and Butcher sniped out her guards. You watched Victoria gasp and flinch at the bullets flying all too close to her. She looked around sharply, but finding no one there, she made a run for the exit. 

That was when Ben ambushed her from the side, grabbing her from behind and shoving her through the door of the next room before she could aim her gaze at any part of him. 

Ben stalked in after her. You adjusted the camera monitors to connect to the science lab they’d burst into. Every muscle in your body tensed as you watched. 

Meanwhile, Ben was wary but not afraid as he kept his shield in front of his face. Victoria raised a hand to a her now bruised arm, but she scrambled in her navy pencil dress and heels to pick herself up. 

She looked up at the supe striding toward her, taking in his head protecting his upper body. So she focused her gaze on his right thigh, making him falter as her power made her eyes roll into her head and blast at his suit. 

The skin underneath was durable though. It felt like a nasty sunburn, one that Ben could ignore. He approached until he could grab her by the hair and turn her face away from him. She cried out, clawing back at his hand. 

He placed his shield onto the holster on his back and got a hold on the back of her neck. He forced her onto her knees while he made her keep looking at the ground. 

“Soldier Boy,” she panted. “Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“Cut the fucking chit-chat. Where the fuck is Stan, that dick tease?”  

He was about to start squeezing his grip, when he was suddenly thrown into the far wall. He fell into a mess of student desks, beakers, and various scientific instruments. 

“Zoe!” he heard Victoria shout. Apparently the woman’s daughter was a supe too. A telekinetic, by the looks of it.

With an angry growl, he picked himself up and shook off the glass from his shoulders. By the time he looked up, Victoria was ushering her daughter out the opposite door. 

Ben ran after them, following them into what seemed to be another classroom. This one was full of students busy taking a test, and a professor grading a large stack of papers. Ben zipped through and ignored the gasps and shocked faces, along with a couple of kids that recognized him and immediately took out their phones. 

He also didn’t care that his elbow knocked the stack of papers to the ground (to the professor’s outrage). 

He bulldozed his way into another empty classroom, where he threw his shield at Victoria’s back. With a cry, she tripped and fell into a desk, and was separated from her daughter.

“Mom!” Zoe cried and reached out for her, but Victoria raised a frantic hand. 

“Stay there!” she shouted back at her. Her attention focused back on Ben. 

She razed at his face and chest with her powers. Ben winced as heat flared across his skin, blistering to the point of second-degree burns on his arm after protecting his face. He strode forward and grabbed her again, this time with a thumb pressing over one eye. 

“You wanna keep your fucking eyes, or you want to tell me where your father is?” he demanded. 

“No!” Zoe shouted. She raised her hands, and a violet glow of energy spread between them. Ben picked up his shield, ready to use it as a projectile against the girl. 

Until your voice sounded in the comm in his ear.

“Go easy, Ben. She’s not the target,” you warned. He hesitated, his lips twisting in annoyance. 

“Zoe,” Victoria warned. His thumb still pressed threateningly against one of her eyes. The other looked up at him, defiant. But her lower lip was trembling. 

“You really want your daughter to be a part of this?” Ben asked darkly. 

You were on pins and needles. While you watched the screen, M.M. glanced at you. 

“We need to do something,” Annie said. She had been antsy the entire time, and when Hughie tried to grab her shoulder, she shrugged him off. 

“We can’t extract the girl without Neuman seeing us,” you said. But you weren’t happy about it. 

Annie gave you an incredulous look. “So you’re okay with that psycho killing a little girl?” 

“Of course not, Annie!” you snapped. “But this is the reality of catching criminals. They rarely go down by themselves.” 

She frowned angrily at you. 

“That sounds like an excuse for murder,” she said. 

There was a tense moment, in which you and Annie stared back at one another. You eventually relented. 

“Okay, go. But stay on standby with Kimiko and Frenchie. They’re outside the classroom, 112B,” you told her. She and Hughie raced out, and you let out a breath while you turned back to the tense scene in front of you. 

“Look, I don’t know where he is,” Victoria said. “We haven’t exactly been on speaking terms.”

“Then get him on the fucking phone,” Ben snapped. 

A tear streamed down her eye, the one that briefly closed, then looked up at him. 

“He’s not a bad man,” she said. “Not…entirely.” 

Ben snorted in response. “Well, aside from trying to replace me with a bullshit knockoff, shipping me off to motherfucking Siberia. He stole from me. My life. And the bitch of the whole bunch, tried to kill me with a fucking clone, with the help of my own DNA. So excuse me if I’m past the fucking point of forgive and forget.” 

“Fine! Fine,” she said, when he started squeezing in earnest. “Let my daughter go, and I’ll help you.” 

Ben glanced up at the girl. She was frightened, with her glowing hands still poised to try and take him out. He still had half a mind to knock her out first. 

“She’s just a kid, Ben. Let her go,” you said in his ear.

After another tense moment, Ben nodded.

Annie burst into the classroom, followed by Butcher, Frenchie, and Kimiko. Annie reached Zoe with a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she shared a look with Victoria. 

“She’ll be okay,” Annie told Victoria, who nodded as more tears slipped down her cheeks. Ben held her firm by the shoulders when Butcher came with a device, no doubt provided by the CIA. It looked like a large metal band that clicked into place around Victoria’s head, covering her eyes. 

Kimiko and Frenchie led her out, while Annie and Hughie did the same for Zoe. Butcher shared an appraising look with Ben, who stared back at him coolly.

Meanwhile, you let out a deep breath. You sat back in your seat and ignored the way M.M. gave you some cursory side-eye. 

Thank Christ that’s over.

Back at Supe Affairs, Victoria gave them addresses to her adoptive father’s known safehouses. Not because they expected to find him there, but because they might find even more material to leverage against him before they attempted to arrest the man. 

 While Butcher and the rest of the team ran down the leads, you and Annie made sure Victoria’s daughter Zoe was put in protective custody, again, with Grace’s help.

Afterwards, Ben was waiting for you in the car that would bring you both back to the safe house. You rode there in silence. 

When you got inside the house and made your way to the bedroom, Ben followed you. It seemed he couldn’t help himself. His arms were crossed, and his face was tight. You waited on him to speak as you started rummaging in the dresser for a shirt and pair of jeans to change into after a shower.  

“I don’t need you yapping in my ear when I’m trying to get shit done,” he said. 

You paused in your search, and you turned to him, raising an incredulous brow. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to stick to the plan. Targeted kills only, remember? Zoe wasn’t the target.”

His frown soured. “She hit me first.”

You stared back at him. Then you raised your eyes heavenward, praying for strength. And you let out a breath. 

“She was trying to help her mother, Ben.”

“If you’re grown enough to throw a punch, you’re grown enough to take one,” he argued. 

“You’ve never hit me once,” you pointed out. “Is it different because she’s a supe? Were you really going to kill a child?”

“I never said that,” he said, glaring at you. 

“Would you have killed Ryan too?” you asked.

Ben expelled a sigh of exasperation. “Would you shut up already?” 

“No,” you refused. And you followed him into the living room when he stormed out. “You’re not going to weasel your way out of this. Would you have killed Ryan?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped. “He was Homelander’s fucking kid.”

“And that makes it all right?”

“Yeah, are you gonna say that in a few years? If he turns out just like Homelander, are you going to come crying to me to take him out?”

You glared at him. He was making a valid point you couldn’t refute, but that didn’t change what he was trying to do. 

“You’re unbelievable.” You shook your head and crossed your arms. “You’re actually justifying this.”

“Whether you want to admit it or not, a supe is a supe,” Ben said, raising a finger. “No matter how old they are, they’re a threat.”

“It doesn’t mean a child shouldn’t be protected, Soldier Boy,” you countered. “A life is a life.”

“Hey, if you want to be sanctimonious, good for fucking you,” he shot back. “But don’t tell me how to do my fucking job.”

“I’m asking you to keep your word,” you said. “For both of our sakes.”

That managed to shut him up. With a sigh, you tried to ease up and take his hand. His glove was busted, the skin underneath was red and raw. He allowed it, but he still looked down on you with reserved irritation.

You knew you didn’t have to remind him what breaking Grace’s agreement would mean, for both of you. 

“Just follow the plan,” you implored. “Targeted kills only. No collateral damage.”

After Ben came out of the shower, he went into the bedroom to change with a towel wrapped around his waist.

You were already cleaned up, a messy bun atop your head, wearing a plain shirt and some shorts, and sitting up in the bed with your new laptop. But you subtly watched him move around the room.   

You noticed the burns across his chest. You were still irritated with him, but you couldn’t help it. You set your laptop aside and went to him. 

Ben saw you coming through the large mirror above the dresser. His head turned to you just as you raised a tentative hand near the burns across his chest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked with furrowed brows. Your fingertips were light in touching his chest. 

It did sting, but it wasn’t that bad. 

Still, all Ben said was, “No. They’ll probably be gone in a few hours anyway.”

Your lower lip stuck out a little, like you didn’t quite believe him as you inspected the various burns. 

Ben eyed you. He still couldn’t fucking figure you out. 

He knew you were into him…and evidently, you cared about him. 

Still, you fought him on virtually everything. There were times when you seemed almost disgusted by him, but when he fucked you, you acted like he was the eighth wonder of the world.

Even now, that perfect damn mouth of yours was frowning while your fingers moved delicately over his skin.

“You want some aloe vera?” you asked. 

He knew by your face that you were completely sincere. It made him chuckle. You looked up at him in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

Not unlike this morning, he picked you up (smirking at your squeal) and set you down on the dresser. His hands rested on your hips while yours laid gently on a non-burnt area of his chest.

“For someone as breakable as you, you seem to be real concerned about me,” he said. “...You’re really not afraid of me, are you?”

Your fingertips ran down his skin, unintentionally raising goosebumps. Though you considered his question with a tilt of your head. 

“Why, are you going to break me?” you teased.

Ben huffed in amusement. His lips drew near yours, hovering but not yet claiming. He wanted you to come to him this time. Wanted you to let him know if this thing, whatever it was between you two, was heading where he thought it was…

And you didn’t disappoint him. 

You reached out and framed his face with both hands, and pulled him into a kiss. For once, neither of you were in a hurry as one languid kiss turned into another. 

Your tongue slipped into his mouth, and he welcomed you with a deep, reverberating hum, along with your thighs slipping around his hips. He took a firm grip of you there, while your fingers carded through his hair. 

“Still not tired of this?” you whispered against his lips. 

He backed off enough to look at you. Really look at you. His brown hair fell above his brows, and as was your habit, you swept some of it out of his eyes. 

You read his answer there without him having to say it in words. 

So you pulled him back in.

AN: 😏 Was their reunion everything you wanted it to be? Let me know in the comments!

(And do you wanna know where we're going next?)

Next Time:

“Good morning,” Stan greeted, raising his mug. “Care for a cup? Perhaps a donut.”

“Still fucking smarmy,” Ben said. He stood in front of the man’s desk, flexing his half-gloved fingers. He glanced up at the walls of this office, this tower in the sky. “We’ve been doing this dance for a long time, you and I.”

“And yet, on entirely different tempos,” Stan replied. “How can I help you, Soldier Boy?”

Keep Reading: PART 15

Special Note:

I'm releasing a new one-shot soon, set in this story-verse called "Love Actually." It's part of @deanwinchesterswitch's Christmas in July fic event running this month!

Go here to check it out and participate (as a writer/artist or a reader)!

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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Series Tag List:

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[cillianhead]

Some sub!Neil Lewis would save my life right now I think 💋😋

Oh my gosh! Ask and you shall receive. I'm so excited this is my first request <3

(Also I'm so sorry if you didn't want this to be smutty, I'd be more than happy to also write some fluffy stuff!)

Pussy-Whipped || Sub!Neil Lewis x Reader

summary: When Gumshoe Video hosts a small Halloween party, Neil can't help but feel disappointed you're not there.

Warnings: SMUT!!! 18+ Minors DNI, pussy eating, vulgar language, possibly poor writing from me (barely edited.), let me know if there is anything else I'm missing!

Neil had gathered a decent sized group of people to have over at the store for Halloween night. It was nothing too major but it was definitely a good sized party. There was plenty of snacks and drinks, couples making out against walls, people debating on whether Christmas was better than Halloween. Really, it was a perfect little party, people were having a great time. Halloween music played, fake cobwebs lined the walls, fake spiders, you know, all that jazz. Later on at Gumshoe Video, there would be a couple of scary movies playing to really celebrate the occasion. Well unfortunately it was missing one key feature.

You.

It left Neil feeling easily irritated and whiny all night. He was all dressed up as Dracula from the 1931 film. The most important piece was missing to him of course. Lucien and Jonathan would tease him for being so grumpy.

"You'd probably give up this store just to see her again, huh?" Lucien was grinning at him, enjoying seeing Neil suffer.

"Shut up, man," Neil just smiled uncomfortably, sick of their teasing, nudging Jonathan with a huff.

"You're pussy-whipped." Jonathan said before Neil slipped into his office, which was strictly off limits during the party.

You had already made plans with some of your friends, weeks prior. Some halloween party that was also a birthday party for a good friend, you promised Neil though that you would show up to the store afterwards. He was starting to doubt you would.

Neil always worried you thought he was too lame or you were way too out of his league. You would roll your eyes every time and just give him a reassuring kiss.

Feeling down, he sat in his office chair, swivelling around and twiddling his thumbs. He missed you, it had been a few days since you had seen each other, both busy with work, he was shaking with anticipation at even the tiniest possibility of seeing you.

To be honest, Neil was a needy little thing. He struggled going even a day or two without seeing you. And oh how fucking his fist could never compare to fucking you. God, even just thinking about your pussy, he could feel his trousers tighten and he threw his head back with a groan.

A zip and a tug could be heard as he slipped his hand down his pants, teasing the tip of his pink cock with his thumb. Whining quietly, precum staining his cotton briefs. Fuck, he didn't expect to be walked in on, touching himself like a pervert.

"Neil?" Your voice. He quickly swivelled his chair back around, facing the doorway to look at you like a deer that had been caught in headlights. Neil just coughed, trying to act casual, trying to pretend he hadn't just been thinking about having your tits in his mouth. But he knew you knew.

"H-Hey!" He looked you up and down, a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks as he looked at what you were wearing. A white corset, laced up tightly, hugging the perfect curves of your body. A sorry excuse of a dress tightly clinging to your skin underneath it, your hair had been pulled down out of the hairdo you had it in previously so it fell messily over your shoulders and white stockings adorned your thighs. He could cum looking at you then and there. He wasn't really sure what you were supposed to be but he didn't really care at this point in time.

"What were you up to, my love?" Sauntering over to him and rounding the table to get closer to him. Neil looked up at you like a lost puppy as you sat down on the edge of the table. The smell of your perfume made him feel like he could pass out, you were intoxicating. "You miss me?" "Yeah... yeah... I did..." Neil nodded dumbly, looking at your pretty lips that he hadn't gotten the chance to taste in oh so long. "Missed you so much, you've all I've been thinking 'bout." You held onto his chin, smiling at him knowingly.

"Looked everywhere for you, thought you'd be out with the rest of the party, Neil baby."

"S-sorry... I just..." His head hung low, feeling embarrassed for being so needy. "I just really missed you... didn't feel like hanging out with any of those people..."

You just kept smiling at him sweetly and his eyes watched as you casually shimmied down your panties, sticky and wet as you tossed them behind you. The skirt of your dress didn't cover the sight of your bare cunt and as you leaned against his desk, spreading your legs for Neil to see better in the low light of his office, he didn't hesitate to dive right in, knowing what to do. Desperate to taste you, like a dog that hasn't eaten in weeks. He moaned at the taste, eyes rolling back in his skull as he was gifted with your wet pussy against his face.

"That's fuckin' it," You moaned, letting your head lean back as he made out with your pussy. "Show me how much you missed me, Neil..." Your mouth was agape, he always ate you out like his life depended on it.

Your fingers in his hair, pushing his face deeper into your soaking core only encouraged him further, causing him to groan into you. Your clit fit perfectly between his pretty lips as you desperately ground your cunt against his face, his nose just perfectly caressing you. His tongue poked inside you, flicking up to the spot where you needed him most.

"God! Fuck... you're such a good boy... so good for me...!" Gasping out. This was all Neil needed, he didn't care if he wasn't allowed to get off for the rest of his life, as long as he had you, to touch and to taste, he didn't care, you were all he needed. The sound of you whimpering loudly made his cock throb, he felt like he was close to cumming himself. Neil always described it as heaven on earth, when you came on his face, he felt like he had accomplished all he was good for. "Want me to cum on your face, pretty?" You let out, sensitive and so turned on seeing Neil down on his knees, looking so content with life as he sloppily ate you up.

"Please..." He mumbled obediently before letting you continue to fuck his face. His tongue was pressed flat against your clit as you came, further wetting his face, what makeup he had on for Dracula now smudged across his face and your inner thighs. He kept slurping your juices up until you tugged his face away. Glistening and a dumb dopey smile on Neil's face was the sight that met you.

"I missed you so much, baby," Still recovering, you leaned down and gave him a gentle loving kiss. His tongue flicked out to the corners of his mouth, licking the juices that were still on his face. "You did so good." He blushed at the praise. You always thought he could never look prettier, red cheeks, big blue eyes, and your cum dripping off of his nose and chin with that big satisfied smile.

"I love you..." He whispered, placing a small kiss on your clit before standing up and connecting your lips once again. "Love you so much..."

-

Hope you enjoyed :)

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

what does a submissive jonathan majors look like?

Most of these powerful bosses are always the one who has the last say. They make the rules and are always in control. When they get home, they yearn for something different.

I’m feel like that’s him. He yearns for his woman to take control. Imagine him coming home after a long press run. He’s fatigued, sore, and mentally drained. So many interviews, so many fans, so many people questioning him about his thoughts on masculinity over and over. He just wants to come home to his girl and be a big baby in her arms. A rightful man-sub.

He’d come home, and she would be waiting for him. She’d either be standing at the door in his favorite silk pajamas; the red ones; or she’d be completely nude and smelling like watermelon and hibiscus. He’d leave his bags in the car, drop to his knees before her, and wrap his arms around her waist or her hips. He’d stay like that for a while, smelling her, kissing her pussy or her lower abdomen, looking up to her with wanton eyes filled with desire and love.

She’d massage his tight coils with her fingernails. She’d sway him from side to side, whispering how much she missed him and how happy she is that he’s home safe.

Eventually, he’d stand up and she would grab him by the face on both sides, forcing him slowly to lean down and give her a kiss. He would melt into that kiss, his eyes closed, eyes welled up with tears. He’s crying because he needs to be dominated by his woman. She would grab him by his hands and lead him to the kitchen. She has a rewarding glass of wine waiting for him. They would talk, catch up, and drink.

Afterwards, she’d lead him to their bedroom where she would undress him. He would stand before her, watching her peel every layer away to reveal his chiseled body. When she finished, she’d kiss each of his nipples and look him squarely in the eyes and say:

“I know what you need, honey…you need me to take control?”

He’d slowly nod his head. She can’t help but to drag her thumb across his pouty lips.

“You’re such a beautiful man, baby. You don’t understand how proud I am of you. I cried, I cheered, I laughed…I even came to you.”

Jonathan would hum in approval and it made her smile.

“I watched you smile and flirt with all those women…getting them just as turned on as you do me no doubt…”

She would grab him by the chin with force, making him look at her. He wasn’t to blink. He wasn’t to turn his gaze away. If he did, he’d be on punishment.

“You had me sitting here jealous,” she smiled, “And I made it my business to remind you who you should be smiling and flirting with…me.”

She slipped away gracefully and towards their walk-in closet. She flung the doors open and glided inside like she was a model. He could hear her in there, but he didn’t turn to look. She finally appeared after five minutes and the feeling of something cold and solid against his thighs sent his head back and a deep groan escaped his lips.

“Look at me.”

He lowered his head and his eyes narrowed in with hunger on the collar with the chain attached. She licked her lips and raised on juicy leg, her soft feet and pedicured red toes colliding with his brick-hard abs before using that same leg to push him so that he would fall back against the bed. She hadn’t even touched his dick and already he was saluted towards the ceiling with a leaking tip. She walked around to the left side of the bed and commanded for him to sit up so she could place the collar around his neck. When it was secured, she yanked the chain and Jonathan’s dick jumped. She chuckled before slapping his dick around with the back of her hand, causing him to close his eyes, bite his bottom lip, flex every muscle in his body, and curl his toes.

She licked the pre-cum off of the back of her hand before climbing onto the bed, turning her back to him before arching on her knees, the chain secure in both hands, controlling his neck.

“Eat.” She commanded.

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied loud and clear before opening his mouth and swiping her pussy with his saliva-clad tongue.

[floralcyanidee]

Okay okay okay

So, Jonathan Crane getting a little hot and bothered over a new coworker? Maybe they knew each other from school already and having to work in such close proximity just brings out a flood of previously forgotten feelings? Maybe they couldn't stand each other and now it's just so much worse now that they're are both professionals in their field. Like, I can just imagine him dragging reader off to his office. Previously he considered gassing her and watching her writhe in terror, but changes his mind because he realizes what he needs is to have her begging for him while he has her bent over his desk. Sorry if this is a bit much 🥵

Jonathan Crane Blurb

word count: <300

warnings: insinuated smut

below the cut!! sorry I just got to this lol I’m at work and decided to finish these little ask prompts up (: not edited as always lol

masterlist

You and Jonathan had been the top of your class for the Psychology major in your university, often competing for the number one spot. You hated each other. But that hate subsided when you went your separate ways after graduation. Everything was fine until you got a job as a top psychologist at Arkham Asylum, which is also where Jonathan worked.

You were determined to show Jonathan who the boss was. But all Jonathan cared about was making you look like an illiterate, illogical fool. He also wanted to see the fear of God put in you- to see you at your weakest. You always had this fearlessness about you, and he was set on breaking it.

But over time, you actually got to know each other and Jonathan no longer had the urge to use his fear toxin on you. However, your sass was still unmatched. And one day you make him fumble in front of coworkers, to which he excuses the two of you, and yanks you into his office.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, hmm?” Jonathan seethed in your ear as he slammed the door shut.

“What are you-“ you asked, but you’re interrupted by Jonathan shoving you forward onto his desk.

You landed on your chest, heaving out air that was knocked from your lungs. Jonathan realized then and there he needed nothing but to see you suffer without the fear toxin. He grazed your skin with a feather-light touch, ignoring the places you wanted him.

“Please,” you grunted, your legs still pressed together, ass in the air.

“Please what?” Jonathan spat, “You’re gonna have to do better than that for my cock.”

[scorpiussage]

Written in the Stars (Jonathan Crane/OC)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane/OC

Summary: Despite what many may think, Jonathan Crane does in fact have a soul mark – he’s just not particularly thrilled about it. (Soulmates AU where a persons first words to you are written somewhere on your body) 

Warnings: Awkward shenanigans, smut

Jonathan Crane is seven years old when his soul mark appears. He’s huddled under a pew, locked in the old abandoned church by his grandmother for a sin he doesn’t remember doing. A sharp burning pain erupts on his forearm, different from the bruising lashes that decorate his back. He holds his arm up to the dim moonlight streaming in through the dirty window and tries to make out the words. 

Whatever he thought his soul mark would say, is no where close to what it actually says. 

…

Most people that know Jonathan Crane, also assume that he doesn’t have a soul mark. He’s bitter and mean and not at all what people look for in a soulmate. Despite these perceived flaws, he does have one. 

A soulmate that is. Somewhere out there and he dreads ever having to meet them. 

He’s never been very lucky, though. 

…

Jonathan is exhausted, injured, and coming down off of his own fear toxin. His hideout is on the other side of town, too far away to get there right now, so he seeks the first open establishment he can find. 

“Hi, welcome to Rats-O-Cheese, the pizza-play restaurant for kids. My name is Y/N-Mouse, what can I get for you?” Is the disinterested monologue that greets him when he enters the building. On his forearm the words he’s been steadfastly ignoring all his life burns. 

Fuck. 

Now, Jonathan is not actually sure what one is supposed to do with a soulmate. Probably not kidnap them, but that’s what he’s done. 

He glances over at the tied up, and very irate, waitress and tries to figure out his next steps. He winces when her muffled shrieks interrupt his train of thought. Despite the gag, she’s still hell bent on chewing him out. 

God, he’s exhausted. 

…

Jonathan is in high school when the restaurant chain Rats-O-Cheese opens up, advertising itself as a fantastical arcade restaurant for children. 

He spends the next several weeks trying to erase his soul mark out of embarrassment. 

…

“I’m going to take off the gag. You can scream as loud as you like, no one will hear you,” Jonathan informs his soulmate, and then adds under his breath, “for my ears’ sake, don’t scream.” 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” She snarls at him as soon as her mouth is free. 

He considers that question and notes to himself that he actually has a lot problems. 

Y/N, on the other hand, has a fairly average life. She’s an only child in a two parent, middle class household. She’s not top of her class, not bottom either, in both high school and college. Just average. 

Her near-neurotic obsession with being normal probably has something to do with her soul mark words. 

“If you fight or scream, I’m going to inject you with this drug.” 

Who the fuck says that to someone?

It sort of tracks that she’d end up with a psychopath for a soulmate, and not a very successful one at that if his injured, disheveled state is anything to go by. 

“So, like, what’s your thing?” She ends up asking after watching him putter around his grungy little hideout for a while. 

He pauses and looks over at her with a cocked eyebrow, “My thing?”

She nods, “Yeah, you know, your villain thing. All the weirdos in this city have one. Like that guy with the riddles!” 

Psycho-soulmate actually rolls his eyes at her and snarks, “Please don’t compare me to the likes of Edward Nygma and his ridiculous neurosis.” 

Y/N doesn’t really think this man has any room to be throwing stones, but she keeps that to herself. 

…

Statistics say that a majority of people meet their soulmates during their college years. It’s something the general population is obsessed with – making movies, music, and art about the phenomenon since the dawn of time. Jonathan, in juxtaposition, isn’t interested. In fact, he would prefer to never meet them. 

He’s never needed anyone but himself and he doesn’t see that changing anytime soon. Especially considering the, frankly, ridiculous words that are on his forearm. 

In what universe would he ever step foot into a Rats-O-Cheese?

…

Psycho-soulmate determines after several hours tied up, that she���s no longer a flight risk and unties her. He does give her a stern look though, and tells her, “There’s no where you would run that I couldn’t find you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t run – got it.” 

She uses her newfound freedom to wander about his weird warehouse/hideout. There’s a very disturbing lone medical examination table with metal restraints that she edges around. Apart from the few pieces of actual furniture (a couch and a futon) it looks like a stereotypical horror movie science lab. 

She approaches a mannequin that’s dressed in a frayed suit and that has a burlap sack-mask over its head. Ohhh, so this is his thing, creepy scarecrow. 

She remarks as much out loud and Psycho-soulmate makes a loud clattering noise behind her, dropping whatever he was doing in surprise. 

“It’s for science!” He snarls, his ears turning pink in embarrassment. 

“Yeahhhh, okay.” 

Then she turns back around to look at him, “By the way, what’s your name? I’ve just been calling you ‘Psycho-soulmate’ in my head this whole time.” 

He gives her a dry look for that remark and introduces himself. Man, that name sounds awfully familiar. 

Then it hits her, “Oh! You’re the guy that broke everyone out of Arkham!” 

“Well, yes, but it was a dire set of circumstances.” 

He’s busied himself with his chemistry set again and as Y/N looks more closely at him, she notes that he’s very handsome – the kind of face that would sell well in a boyband line up. He’s also lithe in way that reveals how much time he spends hunched over his experiments. She has to wonder how a guy like that ends up as Gotham’s latest super villain. 

He sighs loudly and sets down the beaker he was currently fussing over, “I can feel you staring at me. Just ask your inane questions.” 

“No questions, just bored is all.” 

Jonathan’s eyes roll heavenward, as if he’s praying for the irritation to end. Well, hey, he’s the one who kidnapped her, he gets to live with those consequences. 

…

Jonathan is, surprisingly, a gentleman and offers her the futon to sleep on while he takes the couch. He only has a few changes of clothes here so she ends up sleeping in one of his button down shirts. She waits until his back is turned before she brings the collar up to her nose and inhales his delicious, masculine scent. 

She has no idea what cologne he uses but goddamn does she love it. 

A sort of pattern settles over them after a few days there. Jonathan will make the trek in the early hours of the morning to get them both breakfast, waking Y/N up with the clanging of the door when he returns. 

Once they’ve eaten, he immediately dives into his experiments and leaving Y/N to her own devices. All he has to do in this place is read his vast array of medical textbooks and journals, so that’s what she does. 

After nearly a week of this, she finally snaps, “When can we fucking leave?”

“Language,” Jonathan remarks, carefully finishing his task of measuring out chemicals before turning his attention to her, “Why would we leave?”

“Uh, because this isn’t an actual livable place and there’s nothing to do?” 

“Of course I have a child for a soulmate,” he grumbles before getting up, “We won’t be leaving. But, I’ll see if I can procure more suitable entertainment for you.” 

Honestly, that’s better than nothing. 

And she does not squeal in delight at the stack of romance novels he returns with the following morning, she’s just excited to be able to read something that isn’t about psychology. 

…

The phenomenon of soulmates is a fascinating one, Jonathan notes. One he’d be more than interested in studying if his research into fear wasn’t so pressing. 

Hell, even Edward Nygma has a soulmate–Julian Day. 

Jonathan’s own soulmate is interesting to say the least. She’s annoying and childish and loud, the opposite of himself in every way possible. 

She might be growing on him. 

He has a bit of an accident while mixing up a new batch of fear toxin. In those moments, he found himself far more concerned for Y/N than himself. Worried that he may have injured her by mistake. 

He hates it. 

He’s never wanted a soulmate and certainly never the feelings that come along with one. 

If anything were to ever happen to her, he would burn the entire world to the ground. He can no longer imagine his life without her in it and it’s driving him insane. 

…

It’s on a particularly quiet night, months into Y/N’s captivity, that Jonathan breaks out his stash of very expensive whiskey. He’s never been one to drink, but he finds that he’s agreeing with Y/N, he’s so bored lately. 

The flush of alcohol looks pretty on her face in the warm, dim light of the warehouse. He can almost pretend that they’re out on a date, enjoying each other’s company like normal people. 

It’s her that kisses him first, though. 

Her lips are soft and she tastes like the whiskey they’re drinking and he can’t seem to get enough. The euphoric feeling that comes over him is even better than his fear toxin, he thinks. He wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her closer and onto his lap where she fits so perfectly that it’s no wonder the universe chose her for him. 

She breaks away from the kiss, peppering his jaw and neck with follow up ones, “God, you’re such a freak, but I really, really like you.” 

The admission makes him more feral, gripping her impossibly closer and yanking at her clothes. He needs her in a way that he’s never needed anyone before. He feels like he might die if he doesn’t get her naked. 

She helps him remove her top, her breasts already bare as she’s forgone wearing a bra. He groans and buries his face between them, licking and kissing up her sternum back to those addicting lips. Her hips are grinding down onto him, lining up her core with his erection with unerring accuracy. Even through the layers of their clothes, he can feel how wet she is, how warm he knows she’ll be. 

He pushes her down onto the cushions of the couch, slotting himself between her legs and yanking at the button of her jeans. Her hips lift helpfully, allowing his hand to slip them down her thighs. 

He was never a very sexual being, always preferring the company of books rather than people, but he can see in this moment what he’s been missing all these years. There’s something so electrifying about touching and being touched by another person, something that sends delightful shivers all up and down his spine. 

He wants to own her entirely, and for her to do the same to him. 

Her deft fingers slip down his torso towards his groin, cupping his cock in her hand sweetly. He groans and the feel and his hips stutter down to grind against her palm. 

“Can I see?” She asks him, and it hits him in that moment that she never does anything without confirming his consent. He’s never had anyone do that for him before, his body always being the subject of either outright abuse or covetous leers. He helps her open his pants, letting those pretty fingers of hers slip past the hem to wrap around him. 

His eyes roll back as she grips him firmly, pumping his cock better than he’s ever done himself. 

Once he gains some coherency back, he makes quick work of removing her pants and underwear entirely. 

She’s bare before him, her most intimate place glistening and beckoning him forward. He’s never once had the desire nor fantasized about going down on a woman before, but he can’t stop himself from getting a taste. He runs his tongue between her lips, gathering the slick from her hole and dragging it up to her clit. 

He groans against her as the flavor registers, he already knows he’s never going to get enough of this, of her. Her essence is all he’s ever going to think about from now to the end of time. 

Her fingers bury themselves into his hair, tugging and grasping as he devours her. His name is being chanted, spurring him on to torture that little bud at the top of her sex. 

He can literally taste her orgasm as it gushes out of her, coating his lips and chin and it about makes him finish himself. 

Sitting up, he fists himself, hurrying to line himself up with her opening. Still coming down from her high, she mewls as he sinks into her, the walls of her cunt sucking him in as if it’s welcoming him home. He doesn’t think he ever wants to part from her, doesn’t ever want to draw his cock away from her. He pushes himself as deep as possible before drawing back and pushing back in. 

Her arms wrap around his shoulders, tugging him down so that their foreheads press. Somehow this is far more intimate that literally being inside of her and it makes him flush with how flustered it makes him. 

He doesn’t last long but he forgets to be embarrassed about it because he’s never felt so good in his life. He never wants this feeling to end.

He settles beside her, keeping himself firmly tucked into her tight heat. 

On her ribs, right beneath her heart, are his words and proof that they were meant for each other.