#none of those have a good ring to it rip

[purintama]

been debating on changing my url to something more fitting 🤔 something along the lines of purintama or puddintama. i feel like purintama has a nicer ring to it.

tho im already imagining gin going "you're going to name your blog pudding balls????"

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Unlikely Hero

Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Fe!Reader -> You're in labour and nobody is picking up, so you're forced to call someone you never thought you would have to.

Disclaimer: Descriptions of labour and birth, Jake takes care of the reader and shows up for her when she needs him the most, really cute moment at the end, illusion to romantic feelings between Jake and the Reader, found family in the Dagger Squad. Not Proof Read.

Another contraction ripped through you. If you weren’t already white knuckling your kitchen counter, you would have been with this contraction. 

With a groan, you tried to remember your midwife’s advice. Lean into them, breathe and count. Lean into them, breathe and count. Lean into them. Breathe. Count. 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” You took a sharp breath in as you threw your phone onto the counter. 

“This is Bradley. Leave your message-”

You groaned and hung up, again. 

“Hey, this is Nat-” 

“You have reached the number of-”

Placing your elbows in front of you, you pressed the heels of your hands into your head as you leaned on the counter. Somebody - anybody had to be available. They weren’t on duty today. 

Lean into them, breathe, count. 

Lean into them, breath, count. 

Lean into them, breathe, breathe, breath, count, count, count, count.

You scrolled through your phone contacts. You couldn’t exactly call your family since they were states away. The only family you had close by were your friends. But none of them were picking up. 

Then you got to one of your contacts. 

You weren’t friends exactly but…when the time called for it…

Three rings. 

Four rings. 

Five rings. 

Six-

“Y/l/n?”

You practically cried out a sigh of relief. “Jake? Jake, please tell me that’s you and not your machine.”

“Yeah, it’s me. What’s up? Why are you calling me and not the others?”

“Because they’re not picking up.”

“They’re down at the beach. I was just heading there if you want me to-”

“No. No, no. I-I need you.”

Jake went silent. “What?”

Breathe. Count. Breath. Count.

“Listen, Y/n, I know me and you have been starting to get along and whatnot but-”

You let out a groan. “I’m in labour, Jackass.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit. Just-” Lean into it, breathe, count. “Can you please come here? I’ve called my midwife but she’s with someone else right now and…” You went quiet for a while. All Jake could hear were your deep breaths. “And I don’t want to do this alone. My contractions keep getting closer and I…”

“I’m on my way.” 

You could hear Jake rushing around his house, grabbing his jacket and his keys. “I’ll call the others and leave them a message. Hang on tight, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you.”

As Jake pulled away from his house, he called those who needed to know – leaving messages with all of them. He even called Amelia. 

“Where are you right now?”

“At the mall. Mom’s picking me up later.”

“I’ve left her a message but if you see her before let her know Y/n’s in labour.”

“She is?!”

“Yeah. I’ve left a message with the others but in case they don’t-”

Amelia nodded. “I’ll let them all know. Hey, tell her good luck for me.”

Jake smiled. “Will do, kiddo. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled up outside of your house and ran in through the front door. 

“Y/n?”

“Kitchen!”

As he got inside, he found you hunched over the kitchen counter, your eyes closed, one hand on your stomach as your legs started to shake. 

“Okay, I’m here. I’m here.”

You reached out for him without thinking and with his forearms under yours, he helped support you as you stood up steady. 

“I’m sorry-”

Jake just shook his head. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Now, what can I do?”

“Just stay with me.”

“I can do that.”

Over the next twenty minutes, Jake helped you walk down the hall in between each of your contractions. 

Then the shakes started. 

With you leaning over one side of your bed, Jake rounded the bed until he was on the other side and facing you. 

“I-I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can.”

You shook your head, the shakes becoming more intense. Jake pulled his phone from his back pocket and opened it up as he kept his eye on you. He squeezed your hand. 

“No-o.”

Jake smiled at you. “You have seen every injury me and the Dagger Squad have gained in the last three years. You have dealt with a Hangry Rooster and a Pissed Off Phoenix. You can do this.”

It took you a minute but you finally agreed. “Wh-Who are you…” You tried to stop shaking. “Who are you calling?”

“Your midwife.”

“How do you have her number?”

“Penny gave it to us all, in case of an emergency.”

“She did?”

“Yeah.” Pressing the dial, Jake put his phone on speaker and laid it on the bed. Three rings and then she picked up. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Jake Seresin. Penny gave me your number for Y/n-”

“Ah, yes. Is everything okay?”

“Kinda. It’s just, Y/n’s in labour and she’s started shaking. It’s getting more intense.”

“Yes,” you midwife sounded calm. “That’s normal. It means she’s progressing nicely. I’m just finishing up with a new mom but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Then she hung up. 

“Soon as she can? The baby’ll be here before that.” Jake mumbled, annoyed, under his breath. But you heard every word and you laughed a little. 

Jake smiled, hearing your laugh. 

“Ooh, ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.” 

“Okay, it’s okay.” Jake held onto your hands firmly as you got hit with another contraction. 

Another thirty minutes passed. 

Jake had rubbed your back, walked you up and down your hallway corridor from the living room and kitchen and back to your room. He’d called the midwife three more times before she finally explained she was going to be later than usual since she had suddenly been called away to deal with an emergency home birth closer by. 

Once he’d helped you back onto your bed, your shakes started to get worse than ever until finally you had the feeling that you needed to push. 

“Push? Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I-I think so. I-I’ve never…had the feeling before but I feel like I need to push.”

All the colour drained from Jake’s face in an instant. “O-okay. Right, uh, what-what do I-”

“Jake! Jake! Y/n!”

Penny’s voice. 

You both relaxed at hearing her voice. 

Despite the colour draining from him, Jake would have helped you deliver your baby. You knew he would have done it. But the idea of it even worried you a little. For one, you’d both only recently gone from respectful mortal enemies to friends. You weren’t quite sure your friendship with him equated to him seeing everything. 

“Oh, thank god.” Jake turned towards the door. “Penny! We’re in here!”

There were more than just Penny’s footsteps as she came barreling down the hall. “I am so sorry. My phone has been on silent- Amelia told me when I picked her up-”

“It’s okay. You’re here now. But, I-I think I need to push.”

Mav came behind her, white as a sheet. “Don’t- Don’t you need a midwife for that?”

“We can do it.” 

He looked at his partner. “You can?”

“I did with Amelia.”

“You did?” 

“Uh, where is the midwife?” Bradley asked as he appeared behind both of them. 

Jake had his hands on his hips. “I’ve called her but she’s been pulled away somewhere else.”

Penny looked around and kicked everything into action. She gave instructions to Jake and Bradley but then you stopped them. 

“N-No. Jake, stay, Please.”

One look at you and he nodded. “I’m right here.” He took your hand in his. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Okay, Bradley, go and get Natasha. She’ll help you.”

After the momentary shock, Bradley called for Phoenix down the hallway and Penny clicked her fingers in front of Mav’s face to get his attention away from you and Jake and back onto what she was asking. 

“Are those two-”

“We can ask questions later, just go and get what I need.”

Then Penny turned back to you and Jake. “This is gonna feel really weird and incredibly painful, but I promise you, once we’ve got this baby in your arms, you’re gonna forget all about it.”

“Promise?”

Penny chuckled. “Promise.”

Within seconds, she had everything she needed. Penny slipped on a pair of gloves from your supply stock and had you bend your knees so she could check. 

“What? What is it?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, but you’re right about feeling like you want to push. Your baby is starting to crown.”

“They are?”

Penny nodded. 

“Okay, Mav, I need you to get the towels ready and-” He was turning whiter as the seconds rolled by. 

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Penny chuckled and took the towel from him and rested her ungloved hand on his shoulder as she led him out of the room. “It’s okay, go and get Natasha and tell her to come in here.”

Natasha walked inside your bedroom a few seconds later, the towel ready in her hands. 

“Hey, are you ready for this?”

“Nope.”

“You’ll do great.” 

As Penny and Phoenix focused on helping your baby, you turned to Jake. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sweetheart. I’m right here.” The grip he shared in your hand tightened as his eyes fixed themselves to yours. “Promise.”

“Good.”

Then labour finally started to pick up. Jake remained by your side as he supported you and your back all the while Penny instructed you on when and when not to push. Phoenix gave you an excited running commentary about what was happening and what she could see as you gave birth. 

The excitement in her voice made you relax a little. 

“That’s it. Keep going. You’re doing amazing.” 

After almost an hour, and one final push, Penny and Phoenix were tying off and cutting the umbilical cord before cleaning off your baby and noting the time. 

“Welcome to the world, baby girl.”

Everyone was crying, including your daughter as she was passed over to you for the initial skin to skin contact. Meanwhile, you looked from your baby then to Jake. 

“You did it. I told you, you could.”

You smiled and leaned into the kiss he pressed onto your forehead. “Congrats, Momma.”

As Phoenix climbed across the bed from the otherside in order to cover you and your baby up with a fresh and soft towel, Penny helped with your placenta. 

Forty minutes and a check over from a nurse who lived a few streets away from you, who also knew Penny, you were sitting up in bed, holding onto your baby as she slept. 

“How are you feeling?”

Penny had given you and Jake a minute alone whilst she explained everything that Phoenix had excitedly ran through to the others. 

“Tired. And…incredible.” You couldn’t take your eyes from your daughter. “After all this time…she’s finally here and more beautiful than ever.”

Jake smiled as he looked at you, his eyes following yours before he finally looked back at you. “Just like her momma.”

The meaning behind his comment didn’t hit your ears until a few seconds later. You looked up at him and smiled. 

Then a small, soft knock came to your bedroom door. Reuben popped his head through the door. “Hey, feeling up for some visitors?”

You smiled. “Come on in, guys.”

Before you knew it, the whole Dagger Squad were entering your bedroom. 

“Jake?”

Without needing to say, Jake took your daughter from your arms before he stood up, Reuben standing in front of him, excited to hold your baby. 

“My god, Y/n. She’s gorgeous.” Carefully, Jake handed your daughter over to Reuben who held her securely in his arms before posing for the camera Penny was holding as she took more than a dozen pictures. 

“Hello, little one. Oh, my god. She’s holding my finger.” Payback smiled. “Okay, Rooster? Come on. You gotta hold her.”

Stepping around Phoenix, you smiled as you watched Reuben slowly hand your daughter over to Bradley. 

“She’s so small.”

Penny and Mav smiled. “It’s crazy to think you were that size once.”

The others laughed, as did Rooster. 

As your baby was passed to each person, Reuben came by your side and laid a hand on your shoulder before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Want me to get you anything? Sushi? Big Mac?” Rooster asked. 

Before you could answer, Penny spoke up just as she took a photo of Mav holding onto your baby. 

“Wait, wait, wait. We need a big family photo. Come on.”

Thankfully, the sheets had been changed. So, handing your baby back to you, you pressed a few kisses to her head as the others all got situated and directed on where to sit before Penny finally rested the camera on top of the dresser and set a timer. 

As you leaned forward, Jake placed his arm around you to allow you to get more comfortable. Phoenix sat beside you, Payback behind her, Fanboy was beside him along with Bob. Rooster and Coyote as well as Mav were beside Jake. Amelia was slotted in between Jake and Rooster before Penny finally rushed around to kneel behind Fanboy. 

The camera finally flashed, everyone’s smiles being captured in the picture. 

Not long after that, Rooster and Jake headed out of the door to go and pick up your food of choice. The others helped clean your home in the places you weren’t physically able to reach when you were pregnant whilst Penny closed the bedroom door and helped you with latching and breastfeeding. 

A half hour later, Jake and Rooster walked back inside with three shopping bags each as well as the food. 

“We went in to get you some extra things to help and I found this. I couldn’t not.” Bradley pulled it out of the bag and showed you. It was a onesie with the saying “Co-pilot in Training.”

You smiled. “Oh, my god.”

As people started getting up and getting food, Jake brought yours over to you. “Here you go.”

“Oh, my. You’re a saint. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Jake smiled. “I got her something, too.”

“Jake, you didn’t have to-”

He just smiled and spoke softly as the others started to divvy up the food. 

“I know. But I wanted to.” Then he pulled it from behind him. And you were in shock. 

“Oh, my god. How the hell did you find this?”

Jake smiled as he passed it over to you. “Whilst Rooster was getting lost in the clothing section, I asked one of the workers if they had any old stock.”

You felt yourself cry a little, out of sheer happiness. Jake smiled and wiped away the tears with the back of his finger. 

“This is incredible. Thank you.”

Jake smiled. “Anything for you and the kid.”

You held onto his hand. “I mean it, Jake. Thank you.”

Holding onto your hand, he smiled before leaning down and pressing a kiss into the back of your hand. 

What he had bought was the very same baby blanket he’d walked in on you researching one afternoon in the medical wing at the base. It was one you’d owned when you were a baby but the company had stopped making the pattern years ago. But, when they brought out a ‘Throwback’ stock, you searched every store to try and find the same one. 

But each store had been sold out. 

“Eat up, I’ll be back in a minute.”

From the sofa, your eyes looked from Jake to the blanket, to your daughter before looking over at Jake. And he looked back over his shoulder to you and smiled at you from the kitchen. 

Little did you know, two years on, you’d be lying on the sofa watching Jake and your daughter make you a Mother’s Day breakfast together, trying their best not to wake you up before eight in the morning. 

[honeyshiddendesire]

Just a Taste 18+

Summary: You don’t like pirates but when Shanks and his crew change your mind you can’t help but want to explore and you’re not talking about the sea.

Devil Fruit : Poison food / drink - ( Users can turn any food/drink they make into poison when they choose.  Even if the victims get themselves to throw up the poison, when ingested it becomes like a glue that lines your stomach preventing it from exiting your body ) *I will be using this in other works*

Warnings: 18+!! female reader! double penetration! Threesome! Pet names! Manhandling! Praise and degradation kink! Dirty talk! Flirting! Oral sex (f receiving)! Vaginal & Anal penetration! Reader has a devil fruit and it makes Shanks mad! Pussy spanking! 

Pairings: Shanks x fem!reader x Benn 

Words: 9K (it was for a writing challenge lol can't believe I managed to write this much it's been a while sorry if the smut is bad!)

You owned the only bar on the whole island, no other supplier of alcohol anywhere to be found and everyone on the island knew why and none complained. You were the silent protector that they needed, years of being robbed by stupid pirates, even watching your parents become victims to their dumb conquests. You wanted so badly to run away from the island but instead you stayed, making it your life’s mission to rid the world of as many cruel pirates as you could, one meal at a time. 

It was another regular day with the locals drinking and eating some of your great cooking when a young boy burst through the doors, “Y/N! Y/N! There’s pirates docking at the shore!” He was out of breath wearing swim shorts, clearly seeing them sail in from a morning of playing at the beach when the pirates appeared. You came over to him with your hands up and a gentle smile on your face, “Easy hon, breath. Remember you don’t have to be scared anymore. Just head on home and ring the bell on your way there, okay.” Giving you a quick nod, he rushes out of the bar along with the locals who give you a smile and a pat on your back. 

“Go get those filthy pirates!” 

“Yeah we can always count on you!” Another shouted on their way out making you smile as you shook your head at their silly antics. You were only in your mid twenties and it took a long time for everyone to trust your abilities since they all knew you since you were a child. After taking down one pirate crew all by yourself without lifting a finger though they knew they were in good hands, leaving all the pirates to you after that. So you casually clean up the bar and start wiping down the counters completely unphased by all the pirates that were coming up the hill. 

Shanks marched up the hill with his crew in tow behind him, his eyes scanning around the town with curiosity. “It’s like a ghost town.” Benn at his right hummed beside him in agreement, his body itching as he cautiously looked around. “Think it’s a trap?” He asked quietly, making Shanks raise a brow as he looked around spotting no one outside. 

“Not sure-” Shanks replies with a nod of his head pointing in the direction of a bar, carrying on after, “but there’s a bar.” Smirking Shanks decides to lead the way towards the bar that he planned on drinking dry. If no one was in the town, maybe the bar was empty as well. Walking closer to the old looking bar Shanks finally noticed you sitting in a chair by the door, your legs crossed as you sipped from a bottle of rum. A wide grin painting his face as his eyes scanned your body, you wore ripped tight jeans with heeled boots and a loose sweater that was off one shoulder, your hair pulled into a ponytail. 

“Hello gentlemen, what can I do for ya?” You smile before you downed more of your rum, not missing the way Shanks eyes practically sparkle as he looks at you. Shanks waves a hand at you as he heads your way, “Well hello darling, I’m just looking for a place my men and I could get a bite to eat and a drink.” He takes a glance into the empty bar before looking back at you with a charming smile. “You wouldn’t mind would’ya doll?” Smiling, you stand up and head inside with the men following you close behind, “Right this way boys~” You tease with a sway of your hips, Shanks glancing at Benn with a wink and a grin. 

Shanks crew waltz in taking seats at the table as Shanks and Benn follow you over to the bar watching as you go behind and start putting full bottles on the top for them to grab. “You must’ve had a long journey so please enjoy.” You smile politely making the men cheer as they start grabbing the bottles with excitement. “Very generous of you darling but I have to ask…where is everyone?” Shanks asks you as you give him and Benn a bottle. You wave your hand with a laugh, “Oh don’t worry about that love, they just get a little scared that’s all.” Your arms crossing against the bar as you lean over to distract them with an eyeful of your breast, “So~ do you handsome men wanna bite?” Benn and Shanks both couldn’t help the smirk that crossed on their faces as they both replied in unison, “Absolutely.”

A few hours passed, all the men happy in the bar with full tummies and fuzzy brains as the alcohol kept coming. You learned that they ran out of supplies faster than they intended and needed a good restock which made you wonder if after all this if they would raid your town. Your thoughts halted when Shanks leaned back in his seat with a sigh and a wide grin, “Whew! Jeez doll I gotta say- that’s the best meal I’ve had in a while!” Benn gives a nod as he lights his cigarette, “Yeah we might have to stay awhile.” Benn’s joke makes your chest tight and fist clench but you just give a smile. You let them all have as much beer, alcohol and food as they pleased before the real fun began. 

“Is anyone else on your ship? Maybe they’d like to have a meal as well.” You smile politely so you don’t seem suspicious instead trying to sound as sweet as possible. “Ah just one guy- man he would be jealous if he found out how good everything is.” Shanks drunkenly admits as he slaps Benn’s arm who only smokes his cigarette used to his captain’s antics. “Well in that case here you go.” You say as you make a large container of food for someone to take to that last remaining person. “Maybe someone could bring him some while it’s still hot. A gift for you all being so respectful.” Your pretty smile just puts Shanks in a trance so strong he shouts for someone to deliver the food to the last crewmate on the ship. “Hey Rockstar, be a pal and go bring this food to LimeJuice will ya?” 

“UGH~ fine I guess.” You see the man smile drunkenly as he stumbles over to take the food and deliver it to his crewmate. “Thank you hon.” You wink and watch as he leaves on his task with a wide grin. You waited about thirty minutes, which should’ve been enough time for the man named Rockstar to deliver the meal. You hoped they ate it quickly because you were starting to get antsy with the way these two guys were eyeing you. Yeah they were attractive but they were pirates, drunk ones at that, and it was only a matter of time before they started taking what they wanted.

“I gotta be honest with ya darlin… You are gorgeous.” Shanks tells you in a lustful voice as he leans closer over the bar and you put a hand to his chest shoving him roughly back in his seat. “Sit the fuck down pirate!” The way you bite out the word has Shanks sober up quickly, there was venom in your voice now, it was unmistakable. 

Shanks stood up with a smirk on his face, he must’ve thought you were joking, you scuffed as you pointed at him, “Don’t even think about grabbing that sword of yours you’re already a deadman.” You step back as you grab your own bottle of rum downing a sip, before you give him a smirk, “Same with the rest of your crew.”  Shanks' expression dropped to something more serious. “Easy darlin. How about you tell me what’s going on first? I thought we were having a good time.” Benn stands up with a cloud of smoke and you just know his fingers are itching to shoot you if anything goes wrong, but even a bullet to the head isn’t faster than you. 

“Tch! Yeah right! Me? Having a good time with a pirate? Ha that’ll be the day! Pirates are nothing more than lowlife scum, murdering whoever they please with no remorse, not even caring if they have children or not!” Your explanation is laced with hate and pain that makes Shanks frown, you see pity in his eyes which makes you snap even more. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what sweetheart?” His voice was so…so kind and tender, like he wanted to just come over and wrap you in his arms, it pulled at your heartstrings and you didn’t understand why. 

“Like…like you pity me or something! I don’t need pity from some dumbass pirate!” You shout and Shanks only gives you a small smile. “Who did it?” 

What the hell does he even mean, is he asking who killed your parents? Why the hell would that matter to him? 

“It’s alright doll you can tell me.”

“I-I don’t know. I just know they were pirates, one of them had on these dumb ass blue boots. They burned more than half this town and killed my family. Ugh! It doesn’t matter who did it. What matters is that you’re all poisoned already!” 

Benn scowled as he looked at you, the trust he gained while drinking with you slipping like sand in the palm of your hand. “What poison?” 

“It’s my devil fruit.”  You start to explain and Shanks only shakes his head in what looks like disappointment but you didn’t care, kind of. “Any food or drink I lay my hands on becomes a poison but even if you make yourself throw up the poison acts like a glue that sticks to the lining of your belly. If I want to I can activate the poison causing you all to die quickly, but if you all leave this island now without causing any damage or harm I’ll let you all go. Get your supplies somewhere else and leave us alone.” 

“We didn’t mean any trouble…honestly darlin that ain’t really our speed.” Shanks’ smirk made you frustrated and you clenched your fists that rested at your sides. “Do you think I’m some kind of joke or something?” You snap and Shanks just shakes his head as he sits down. “Not at all darling, in fact I think you’re smart for not trusting us. I mean… we are pirates after all. I love seeing people protect what they care about. This town is lucky to have someone so fearless such as yourself.” Shanks grabs the bottle he was drinking and continues to chug it making your eyes widen in shock. 

Why was he still drinking it even though you told him you could turn it to poison?

“What are you doing?” You question in disbelief, the gears in your brain stalling as you notice the others in the back sit down again after seeing their captain’s calm demeanor. They weren’t scared, usually when you tell pirates they’re already poisoned they just leave or you have to kill them, but these guys just carried on like nothing happened. You even notice the man who Shanks told you was named Lucky Roux kept eating too. “Shanks! What are you doing I just told you-”

“I heard what you said sweetheart…I just …don’t care.” Shanks says as he downs the rest of the bottle, nodding his chin over to the others you had behind the bar. “Like I told you already pretty, we’re just here to buy supplies. Got the money to pay for it too.” 

“You…plan on paying?” Your shocked dumbfounded expression is adorable to the older men and they just smirk at you. “Yup.” Shanks grins as Benn follows in his captain’s footsteps by chugging his bottle as well before sliding it toward you empty. Taking another drag of his cigarette to speak with a cloud of smoke encircling him, “Go ahead and grab us another bottle baby doll 'cause we ain’t even close to drunk yet.” 

You swallow a lump in your throat, so confused on what to do, because as much as you wanted them to leave they just made you so curious. Why do these pirates act so differently from the rest? 

“Come on princess, we're getting thirsty.” Benn says snapping you out of your own thoughts and you grab the good bottle of rum you’ve been stashing then pour three shots, one for each of you cause you damn sure need it. “Cheers! To being poisoned!” Shanks cheers as he throws back his shot, the rest of his crew erupting in shouts and laughter as they take a sip of their drinks as well. You quickly have to refill your glass because this is so not what you expected when you had the town rush to their homes in hiding. 

“So darling is that why the town’s hiding. Are you like the protector? You get everyone to stay in their house while they leave you here to poison whoever steps foot in this place?” Shanks asks after taking another shot which you refill in under a few seconds. You give a head nod, your eyes staring at the bar top not wanting to make eye contact at those mesmerizing eyes any longer. He should be dead but for some reason you can’t seem to do it, something about him just didn’t feel like the others you’ve encountered. “Very noble of you doll.”

“What happens if I put a bullet between your eyes?” Benn says catching you by surprise and it makes your head snap up to stare at him. From this distance you wouldn’t have the time to snap your fingers which activates the poison, you weren’t gonna tell him that but from the look on your face he knew he had you cornered. “Just curious baby.” Benn smirks to keep you on your toes. 

“You’re too pretty to get your brains blown out.” Shanks winks, “Like I keep saying we’re just here for fun and supplies.” You give another nod and go to fill Benn’s glass when suddenly you hear a loud scream come from outside that causes you to drop the bottle, golden rum spilling out. Gasping as you rush outside, your face morphing into one of horror as you see fire in the distance. 

“PIRATES!” You hear people screaming and see the little boy from earlier running toward you, now wearing his pajamas, tears in his eyes. “I thought you took care of them!” He yells at you but then his eyes go big as Shanks and his crew step out of the bar hearing all the commotion. “You! It must be the two that you left on your ship!” You shout back and Shanks just shakes his head.

 “Ain’t no way doll. Look.” He points behind you in the opposite direction of his ship to the other end of the island. “The fires coming from over there doll, has to be another crew that just sailed in. We would’ve seen my men pass your door in order to get all the way over there. Besides my men and I don’t just start fires. You poisoned me and I still haven’t killed you.” 

You want to be angry at him but know that’s not the logical response so you only look back at the boy, “Where are your parents?” His eyes water and you just pull him close. “Listen to me, now is not the time to cry, okay? You need to go back to your parents and hide somewhere safe.” 

“O-okay!” He cries and runs back towards his home. Shanks catches your attention by putting a hand to your shoulder. “Hey darlin if you need a hand say the word.” You don’t know what to do as you stare at the town spreading in a fire, people running out of their homes and away from the danger. You hear gunfire in the distance getting louder and louder and your heart beats like a drum in your ears. You feel your hands shaking, your chest tight like you’re going to pass out until Benn comes to you on your other side. “You can trust us.” 

“But you’re …”

“Pirates. I know. So let the blood be on our hands.” Shanks smiles kindly as you look at him, finally you give a small nod after some thinking. “Head inside for me darling. Don’t want your pretty eyes seeing my dark side or it might ruin the rest of the night.” You follow his gentle command and occupy yourself with cleaning up the bar, picking up all the empty bottles that littered the tables. Your devil fruit was useless in combat if someone wasn’t willing to take a break to drink or eat something real quick. Chaos like right now only made you shake with anxiety as all you could do was standby and hope that you could actually trust these pirates but that’s what they were…pirates. 

You had the bar spotless from top to bottom in a few hours, the place smelling of a fresh pot of beef stew that you cooked on the stove. It grew low when Shanks and his crew almost ate the whole thing so you got started on a new batch just in case. You always liked to have a fresh batch just in case you have to use your powers on someone. You sat down on a bar seat and poured yourself a large shot, your buzz from early long gone unfortunately. 

“Awe~ drinking without us doll? I thought we had something special.” Shanks joked as he stepped inside along with Benn trailing closely behind. “You’re back?” You didn’t mean for your voice to sound so doubtful but what can you do? 

“Yeah sorry to disappoint you.” Benn smirks making you raise your hands in apology, “No I meant -”

“Easy darlin’ we’re just messin around. It’s all taken care of so don't worry that pretty head of yours.” Benn winks and you slowly sit back down with a question. “Where’s everyone else?” Shanks gives a sigh as he sits beside you along with Benn, both men caging you in. You felt the warmth radiating off of them and it made your body heat up in a slightly different way than you were used to. You’ve had sex before but never with anyone as attractive as these two men that towered over you. Or as dangerous. 

Benn leans over the bar and grabs a bottle and sets it down in front of you winking at Shanks who wore a big grin. The red haired man took the initiative to speak with a chipper tone, “So for saving you how about we play a little game?” 

“What kind of game?” You ask as you lean over and grab some shot glasses, both men taking the opportunity to stare at your ass and lower back that is exposed a bit from your shirt rising. Benn turned to face you with a smirk as his Captain did the same, “Oh simple, just twenty questions but we’ll make it interesting.” 

“Oooh take a shot whenever we want to pass?” You suggest and the two men chuckle, Shanks shrugging his shoulder, “I was gonna suggest removing a piece of clothing but if you wanna take a shot sure.” You burst out laughing and can't help the heat that rushes to your face, “Oh my gosh! I try to poison you all and yet you’re trying to see me naked?”

Benn holds up his hands with a smirk, “What can we say? We like 'em a little crazy.” 

“It makes the sex better.” Shanks adds as he leans toward your flustered face catching you off guard by his words. “I see.” You ponder their words and the whole day that has transpired and there was no doubt in your mind that you wanted them. So taking a deep breath you stand up and grab the keys to the bar as they watch you with intense curiosity. “Well I guess we could play your way but… we should probably take it upstairs to my place. I wouldn’t want anyone walking in to see me in my thong.” You tease as you head towards the door swinging the keys in your hand with newfound confidence, you don’t know where it came from but you think it was the rush of having two hotties fiend over you. Turning to look over your shoulder you winked at both pirates and gave a smirk, “You boys coming?”

“Absolutely.” They grinned and you laughed remembering them saying the same thing earlier that day.

You quickly found yourselves upstairs in your living room all sitting on the couch with more alcohol laid out on your coffee table for you all. “Okay since the game was your idea you guys should start first.” 

“After you captain.” Benn says as he pulls out a cigarette placing it between his lips but pausing right as he grabs his lighter. “Do you mind?” He asks and you just shake your head as you walk over to open the window a bit, lighting a warm vanilla sugar candle on your way back to the couch. “Ooo romantic.” Shanks teases and you roll your eyes as you plop down between the two of them and crack open your bottle of choice.  “Okay captain you go first.” You mock and miss the way Shanks sucks in a breath hearing you call him that but Benn doesn’t miss it and only laughs at the man while shaking his head. “Focus Red Hair.” 

“Yeah…yeah okay. Hmm- how about…favorite position?” 

“Ooo down to the nitty gritty huh.” You laugh and ponder the question, debating if you wanna answer or remove a piece of clothing. “It’s a tie but I’ll say only one. I’m thinking… Pronebone.” Once you answer Shanks whistles loudly, “Oooo nice and deep okay okay.” 

“Ugh please hush!” You groan and Benn laughs as he nudges your shoulder, “Don’t be embarrassed baby doll…” Benn smirks before he leans toward you, “Save that for later.”

Shanks grins as he takes a shot, “You can go next darling.” You don’t even hesitate to uno reverse Shanks on question and he just smirks happily, “Easy, cowgirl. I like admiring a woman taking what she wants from me. Go ahead Benn.” Benn hums as he thinks of the question, standing to put his cigarette out in the sink, washing down his mess before sitting back down to face you. “Remember you can either answer or take off that top of yours.” You nod and he continues, “Can you deep throat?” 

You felt so hot you thought you were going to burst into flames but you refused to back down and remove your clothes just yet. “Yes. Shanks your turn.” 

“Well fuck me sideways and call me a bitch cause that’s good to know. Okay… soft and slow or rough and fast?” Shanks jokes and you laugh at his crazy statement before thinking of a response. Taking a sip of the drink you made you lean in close as you answer. “Tough choices. I usually like it fast and rough but with you two I wouldn’t mind seeing how you pirates handle it slow” Another sip and you turn your attention to Benn in order to ask your next question. “Have you and your Captain ever fooled around?” Benn gives Shanks a look as he answers, “Yes but it’s not really my thing, we’re better at fucking pretty girls together instead of each other.” Your mouth literally drops when you hear his words then you look over at Shanks in shock who just grins and raises his eyebrows. “What can I say, I gotta try everything at least once.” 

“My turn.” Benn says, making you look over at him as he smiles, “Have you ever kissed a woman?” 

Giving a shrug you recycle Shanks’ words, “Well I gotta try everything at least once.” Your answer makes the red haired man laugh with excitement. “I think we’re just perfect together darling.” Throwing his arm over your shoulder you give a little head shake as he asks his next question. 

The game goes on for a while until Benn is the one who gets to ask the final question, all of you very tipsy with all your layers remaining. None of you backing down from the overly perverted questions that you all threw each other's way. “Okay baby doll final question.” His face was close to yours, the smell of alcohol heavy on his lips that you couldn’t seem to look away from. “Are you ready for a couple of pirates to fuck you nice and slow?” 

At this point your body is tingling and you can feel the wetness pooling in your panties, your heart beating a mile a minute. You can feel Shanks press closer to you, his hand going to your thigh as his lips kiss your exposed shoulder. “Promise we’ll take good care of you baby.” Benn puts his hand on your other thigh and you swallow the lump in your throat as he stares into your eyes intensely waiting on your answer. 

“Yes.” When you answer Benn doesn’t even waste a second to lean in and kiss you with a hunger that makes you melt. Your hands reach up to wrap around his shoulders tugging him closer towards you as Shanks’ hand runs up underneath your top with a groan. You moan into Benn’s mouth when you feel Shanks squeeze your breath over your lace bra, his calloused fingers digging into your flesh. “So pretty baby.” Shanks mumbles against your neck as Benn paws at your thigh, his tongue slipping into your mouth with a blazing passion. 

You feel on fire between both men as they grope and kiss you all over, “Come on sweetheart lemme take this off.” Shanks asks tugging on the hem of your shirt and even though you don’t want to break the kiss with Benn he does as his Captain suggests. “Sorry doll the Captain doesn’t ask more than once.” You’re beyond horny and don’t give even a second thought when you remove your top and toss it across the room before pulling Shanks into a kiss. Benn takes the job of Shanks and leaves kisses all over your neck as you kiss the red haired man, your fingers tangling with his hair to give a slight tug that has him moan into your mouth. 

“I wanna go to the bedroom.” You say in between the kiss and let out a surprised gasp when Benn lifts you up like you weigh nothing, Shanks following behind stripping off his top in the process. Benn throws you on the bed with a smirk, your attention drawn to the way both men strip in front of you. Even with one arm Shanks moves with such a smooth grace that has your mouth drooling, they’re both cocky and even though Benn started out so quiet he had quite the ego. When they remove their boxers your mouth literally drops as you see how large they both are in comparison to the guys you’ve fucked on your island. 

“Like what you see darling?” Shanks asks but you’re so stunned to speak as you stare at the cut beauty hard between his legs, veins pulsing with need, tip just as red as his hair with a bit of cum threatening to fall. Shanks had more length than Benn but just a little bit, but what Benn missed out in length he made up for it with his girth. Benn’s cock was thick like a damn soda can and it made you swallow the lump in your throat wondering if you’d be able to take him in either one of your holes. You had a feeling though that the dear Captain would take the front while Benn would take the back. You’re caught off guard when you feel a light smack to your thigh from Benn, their cocks so mesmerizing you forgot Shanks even asked you a question. 

“My Captain asked you a question, baby doll.” Benn tells you with a stern tone and you have to peel your eyes from their dicks in order to focus. “Um…what was the question?” Shanks tilts his head as he looks at you, his voice teasing you as he circles the bed. “Awe pretty girl, we haven’t even touched you yet and you’ve already gone dumb. Poor thing. Don’t worry that’s what a Captain is for, I’ll take care of you sweetheart.” 

Benn climbs in bed next to you on one side as Shanks takes the other side, their hands touching you anyway they can. Benn takes care of the harder things like unclipping your bra and your jeans while the redhead pulls off your bra, kissing the skin that's underneath. His lips feel like molten lava against your skin and you gasp as his lips wrap around your hardened nipple. Benn cradles your head to the side in order to suck a mark onto your neck causing you to moan, your fingers tangling once again into Shanks hair. Your other breast gets stimulation as Shanks squeezes it in his calloused hand, Benn busies himself by massaging your thighs, slowly pulling them open for his Captain to slide between. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Benn praises as his kisses reach your jaw, his large hand turning your face toward his so he can close the gap between you with a slow and deep kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth in a passionate kiss as his Captain worked his magic on your nipples, switching between both breasts causing you to whimper. Both men knew how to use their tongues which made you very curious for later. 

Shanks starts to go lower and lower his mouth leaving kisses in their wake as he descends down towards your dripping pussy. His fingers move your thong to the side making you gasp into Benn’s mouth, his tongue swirling around yours with a deep groan. Shanks looks up at you just in time for Benn to pull away allowing you to look down at his Captain. Benn’s hands spread your legs open embarrassingly wide, pressing your thighs into your chest making you whine. You felt vulnerable in this position but you guessed that was what happens when you fuck a couple of pirates. 

“Go ahead baby, keep your eyes on him. My Captain has a thing for being watched.” Benn smirks as he kisses your cheek, your eyes falling down to watch as Shanks lays on his stomach. His tongue licks between your dripping folds, before his tongue circles around your clit, a groan leaving him at the taste of your wetness. Spitting on his fingers he circled your usually neglected hole as he closed his mouth around your clit with a lewd moan. “How is she Captain?” Benn asks before kissing under your ear and licking the shell. 

Shanks eyes roll back for a second as he takes another slow lick at your entrance before staring directly at you, “So fucking good.” You watch as Shanks licks your clit again before sucking it into his mouth. “Yeah I bet she does.” Benn groans into your neck, his hands squeezing at your spread thighs making you whine at his strength. “Shanks~” A smack to your thigh makes you gasp, your head turning to look at Benn who only shakes his head. “That ain’t what you call him in her darling.” 

“Dammit sorry.” You moan out and Shanks only grins as his tongue goes lower into your neglected hole. “Oh fuck! Captain!” Your head falls back against Benn's shoulder making him chuckle at how easily you come undone on his Captain’s tongue. “Just relax darling.” Benn says kissing along your jaw, his thumb rubbing against your thigh. 

Your senses hyper focused on the way Shanks ate you out, his thumb rubbing at your clit to stimulate both areas. Shanks ate you out like a mad man, switching between your ass and your pussy, you didn’t know what to focus on with the way he was working you. “Come on Captain quit hoggin her will ya.” Benn grumbled out as kissed your jaw, your eyes rolling back as you felt Shanks suck on your clit while his fingers opened up your ass. His tongue moving down to dip into your pussy to lick at your juices that started to flow from your orgasm. 

“Fuck fuck fuck! Captain!” Your scream tore through your throat like never before and it was music to both men's ears. “That’s it darling cum all over his face.” Benn coaxed out of you as Shanks thrust his fingers into you in time with his tongue that worked your cunt. It was such  a new sensation that sent you over the pleasurable edge you never thought you’d experience with some pirates. “Cumming!” You practically screech out and Shanks only moans into your cunt, “So fucking good! That’s it baby! Give it to me!” The vibrations of his voice makes you squirm or at least try to but the hold that Benn had on you kept you in place for the overstimulation that Shanks was giving you. 

Shanks lets out a long groan as he feels your walls clamp down and pulse around his tongue, your ass twitching against his fingers as you moan loudly. Benn holds you open as you cum, his Captain just as noisy as you as you cum and he just chuckles watching the both of you. “You two are so noisy.” Benn smirks and you just turn your face toward him, your eyes barely able to focus on him but you want to kiss him so bad.

“Benn~” You moan out, “Please kiss me.” Benn gives a mocking coo as he leans down anyways to kiss you. The large man had quite the oral fixation and liked to keep himself busy either with marking up your neck or kissing you on the lips, his tongue swirling with yours. “Awe aren’t you a cutie.” Benn teases before leaning closer to kiss you on the lips, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip making you suck in a breath. 

“Help me out a bit Benn.” Shanks practically moaned out as he sucked your clit, allowing room for Benn’s large fingers to dip into your throbbing cunt. Your clit tingled as your pussy became filled with Benn’s thick fingers that entered your pussy, Shanks fingers never leaving your ass and you only moaned at the feeling of them both. Benn used his free hand to hold your jaw and pull you in for a kiss, “Better keep those legs open for us pretty girl.” You sneak your hands around to hold your legs open for the men to continue their work. Your legs started to shake as both men brought you closer and closer to coming again, their fingers moving a bit faster as they noticed your walls tightening. 

“There we go sweetheart, be good for your Captain and let go.” Shanks says between kisses to your clit making you moan out loudly. Your own fingers dug into your thighs as Benn stole your moans through deep kisses, his tongue swirling around yours before sucking on it with a groan. Pulling away he kisses your cheek, then your jaw before going to your neck to nip at your skin, your body shuddering from the affect you’re having. Your body shivers like a wave and you moan as your head falls back again onto Benn, your pussy creaming on his fingers that thrust into your cunt. “Benn! Ah- Shh-!” Trying to moan out the redhead's name gets cut off with a shout. 

The sound of your dripping hole was loud in Shanks ear, his eyes looking up to stare at your face as you came undone. Your thighs trembled and Benn used the hand that was once on your jaw to hold your leg open, “Easy baby, we gotcha.” His eyes watched Shanks and his fingers stretch you out to take both men. They wanted to keep things nice and slow how you requested but the way your body was talking to them was starting to get pretty difficult.

“You think you’re ready to take the both of us baby doll?” Benn asks and you can’t help but nod your head like a madwoman. “Yes oh fuck yes! Please!” You shriek as Shanks nips at your clit before pulling away, removing his fingers to sit up. Benn can’t help himself when he pulls his fingers out of your pussy to give it a wet slap making you yelp. “Benn!” You moan in surprise and he just kisses your cheek. “Sorry, I couldn't help it, she just looked so cute.” Benn’s teasing and vulgar words made your body flare with heat. 

“Again.” Shanks commands as he strokes his cock in front of you and you pout when you hear him, but being the second that he was did it without repeat. “But-” You try to protest but Benn hushes you, his lips against your ear. “Shh, just be a good girl darlin. It’s just one more.” Benn reassures as he smacks your pussy again, your wetness making the slap sound noisier and it only turns on Shanks more as he licks his lips. “Alright pretty let’s see how you can handle a couple of pirates.” Shanks grins as plops himself on the bed, laying on his back as Benn maneuvers you on top of him, a gasp leaving you as he just keeps carrying you like you’re nothing more than a feather. 

“Take your time baby, I’m sure I’m bigger than the silly amateurs that you fuck on this island.” Shanks says confidently and you just roll your eyes despite him being right, your action makes the man laugh as he squeezes your thigh gently. “Oh sweetheart don’t be bashful I could tell when you first saw my cock that you liked it.” 

“It is pretty nice.” You tease as you line yourself up with the tip of his cock, your fingers wrapped around his cock, your thumb stroking the longest vein that ran along the side. Shanks hissed as you squeezed the base and slowly ran your hand back up to the tip, “Dammit darlin you’re killing me.” You feel Benn kiss along your shoulders as he comes up behind you, his rough hands coming around to grope at your breast. “Think you can handle him baby doll?” Benn asked in a teasing tone and you just smirked down at Shanks as you slowly lowered down onto him. 

You honestly thought you could handle him but once his tip slowly slid into your dripping cunt you realized how wrong you were. He felt way bigger than he looked, sucking in a sharp breath as Shanks’ cock slowly pierced through your wet walls. “F~uck!” You gasp making the redhead grin but his bravado also cracks as your walls clamp down around his cock. The feeling of your warm, wet walls squeezing his cock in a tight grip makes his head spin, his cheeks flushing and eyes rolling back. “Shit Benn, you have no idea how good her pussy feels.” Shanks’ voice is a deep groan, long and drawn out as you took more of his cock in your pussy. Moans dripped out at a loud pitch that you weren’t used to, Shanks’ cock long enough to reach depths that normally didn’t get touched. Your body lit up like fireworks just burst inside of you, your thighs trembled as you sunk down all the way on his cock.

“I’ll have to try her out another time.” Benn smirked as he squeezed your breast, his fingers toying with your nipples making you shudder. “Ugh! Fuck! Shanks~ you’re so big!” You can’t help how whiny your voice comes out as you feel his cock throb inside of you. The man smirks below you, his breathing heavy as he speaks, “Thanks darlin. Now come over here so I can kiss those pretty lips of yours.” 

You bend down towards him and his hand caresses your cheek tenderly, pulling you closer till his lips push against yours. Both of your lips moving in a sensual dance that leave you breathless as he parts your lips with his sneaky experienced tongue. You gasp into his mouth as you feel Benn spit on your ass, his thumb rubbing against your tight hole in a circle to spread his saliva all over you. “Stay relaxed baby.” Benn’s voice is filled with patience as he uses his other hand to aim the tip of his dick against you. Shanks distracts you a bit with his tongue swirling into your mouth, sucking on your tongue with a groan. You whine into his mouth as you feel his hand run down your back to your ass, spreading you open for his Vice Captain. 

Benn licks his lips as he slowly sinks his tip into your puckered hole, hissing as he feels your warmth gripping his cock like a glove. “Damn.” Benn’s deep voice sends chills down your spine, the new sensation of having something enter your ass makes your brain hyperfocus. You can’t help but clench around the tip of Benn’s cock, “Easy~ baby.” Benn tells you as he massages your back to get you to settle down as he sinks his cock in deeper. Shanks grinds his hips upward to stimulate you and allow you to relax for Benn to dive in deeper, drinking in the sound of your moan as the curve of his cock aims right on the spot you need him too. Benn moves his hand around your body to rub circles on your clit causing you to gasp into Shanks mouth. 

“Almost there baby. Fuck you’re doing so good.” Benn groaned as his cock was halfway into your ass with Shanks grinding into your wet cunt, your juices dripping down with heighted lust. You had to pull away from the deep kiss that Shanks was giving you to catch your breath, your hands pressed against his muscled chest as he pulled his hand back to spank your ass. “Man ain’t you just the prettiest thing. Just a few hours ago you couldn’t stand the sight of a couple pirates, now look at you. Coming apart, taking two cocks at once.” Shanks teasing had you so embarrassed but when you wanted to complain Benn slammed his hips forward into your warm hole with a deep drawn out grumble. The sudden slam of his cock hitting deep inside of you forced a loud scream to leave your throat, eyes rolling back as his fingers circled your clit.

“Fuck! Benn! Oh fuck you’re both so deep!” You babble as Benn moves you up and down on Shanks cock. “Should we stop?” Benn questioned as he pressed on your clit more with harder pressure, a grind of his hips just as Shanks did the same made your jaw drop. 

“No! Fuck don’t you dare stop! Please keep going!” You gasp out as your fingers unconsciously dig into Shanks chest, when his hips swirl into you. “Trust me baby we’re not stopping.” Benn smirks down at Shanks who gets the silent hint to swap hand placements, the redhead going to rub your clit as Benn puts both his hands on your hips to start lifting you up and down on their cocks as they push their hips up to meet you. The position only driving their long cocks further into you with each thrust of their skilled hips. 

You never imagined there would be a day that you would think a pirate was attractive let alone two pirates yet here you were. Your body was being used perfectly as you just took what they gave you. You knew pirates took what they wanted you just never thought it would be your body and man did they take good care of it. Words of praise dripping like honey down your body, your temperature rising with every brush of their lips against your skin. Goosebumps formed as they hushed the most vulgar words you’ve ever heard into your ears. You never thought you were innocent actually you considered yourself far from it but with how they were talking to you it definitely changed your stance on the matter. 

“You have such a perfect pussy, so wet and slippery on my cock. Taking my vice captain so good in that pretty ass of yours too- fuck baby.” Shanks moaned out his eyes enraptured by how beautifully wrecked you looked. Your back was pressed against Benn’s chest, your hips now moving wildly on their own accord. Wanton moans leaving you as your head was thrown back on the shooter’s shoulder, his hand gently wrapped around your throat as he sucked mark after mark onto your neck. Benn couldn’t help his constant marking, his oral fixation in hyperdrive and needing something to do. Shanks watched you both intensely, his eyes roaming every inch of your body up and down, pausing to watch the ring of cream that was forming on the base of his cock like a masterpiece.

 Your arm without thinking went behind and around Benn’s neck to grip at his hair, not realizing how you ripped the cheap ponytail that held his hair up. Black strands cascading around his face as continued to slam his thick cock into you, taking your breath away as well as his at the feel of you. Benn felt his eyes roll back as you tugged on the raven locks, a deep growlish moan escaping as he bit into your neck before swirling his tongue against the mark. His thick fingers digging into the flesh of your hips making you whimper as he only rocked you down harder. 

You felt the boiling in your body, the tingling in the pit of your stomach as your toes curled and thighs trembled. “Fuckfuckfuck! Im gonna~!” 

“I know you are sweetheart. Just let it out baby.” Shanks breathed out with a grin. “So pretty cumming for a couple of dirty pirates. Nothing but lowlife scum but you love it huh?” 

“Yes! Fuck I love your cocks so much!” You wailed out as Shanks rubbed your clit faster. “Hell yeah you do you naughty girl. Ugh fuck- you little liar want to act all tough but look at her - uh fuck- crying over some pirates fucking her so good.” Shanks moaned out trying to keep his eyes on you even though they wanted to roll in the back of his head at the feel of your walls tightening. “Shit you’re beautiful.” 

“You like having pirates use this pretty body of yours don’t you baby doll?” Benn asked in your ear, turning your face towards his, your fingers still tangled into his tresses as you pathetically nod. “Prove it darling. Cum for us dirty pirates.” You couldn’t hold back the moan that ripped through you, your body shaking as Benn held you up both mens hips not stopping as they helped you ride your wave.  

You never really squirted in your life but with both men drilling their gorgeous cocks into you at a fast pace you guess it was time for your body to do the unexpected. A gasp left you as your body erupted with pure ecstasy and unimaginable pleasure. You always thought pirates were good for nothing but damn did they change your mind when you felt your walls tighten and vision go blinding white. It’s like your body felt every pulse of your cock, every vein, every delicious curve and thrust that they were giving to you. The perfect tip of Shanks’ cock pounding into your g-spot with every thrust like a magnet was attached and Benn hitting your walls only pushed Shanks in deeper. 

“That’s it princess there we go. Wetter pussy than the fucking ocean.” Shanks hissed as he watched the way you soaked his cut abs, his fingers rubbing your pussy causing an even bigger mess. “We picked the perfect fucking island.” Shanks grinned as he moved his hand up to lick the mess that you made all over him, eyes finally rolling back at the taste of your sticky juices. Benn groaned into your neck feeling the vice grip your ass had around his thick, veiny cock and knew he was about to cum once you tugged on his hair harder. 

“Pull my hair harder baby doll. Let me have it.” Benn groaned out before smashing his lips to yours, tongues battling but clearly he was winning as your body was still lit up with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Shanks licking up the mess you made like a starved wild animal as his eyes trained on the both of you kissing messily. Drool slipping down your chin as Benn’s hands trailed down to squeeze your tights making you whine and tug on his hair harder like he requested. His hips rocked into you harder as he felt his balls tighten and pulse, “Mmm!” His hands gripped your breasts harder as he lost his rhythm a bit before sinking further into your ass.

Hot cum flooding your ass in thick sticky ropes as a long moan was shared between the two of you in a deep kiss. Shanks licked his lips as he fucked up into you harder and faster, his hand gripped your hips to force you down to meet his thrusts. Feet planting on the bed for better leverage as his jaw tightened but he needed to see you cum again. 

“Benn hold her still.” Shanks’ voice sounded deeper and more stern and you quickly felt Benn drag his hands down to your hips to grip you tight. His lips leaving yours to talk in your ears, “Look at my Captain.” You don’t mean to pout but you do and Shanks sees it, his hips snapping up harder into yours snatching a gasp from you that makes you look at him. 

Shanks fucks you harder like he suddenly hates your pussy and you can’t figure out why until he speaks, his thumb rubbing your clit in harsh circles. “Why the fuck did you have to eat a damn fruit!” He snaps and fucks you harder, the scowl on his face a drastic difference to his earlier sweet demeanor. “Naughty fucking girl just had to eat one of those stupid fucking things.” You couldn’t figure out why he hated them so much  and honestly in that moment you could care less what his problem with devils fruits were when he was fucking you as good as he was. 

“Such a perfect fucking cunt and you just had to ruin it! Uh hah! Fuckfuckfuck! Pussy fits so well around my cock! Dammit!” His words are coming out in angry growls and Benn’s grip on you tightens his lips busying themselves again to nip at your neck and mumble out words as well. “Damn shame or we could be doing this all the time.” Benn whispers in your ear before sucking on your neck. You wanted to ask them questions on what they meant but you couldn’t not with how you felt another orgasm speeding towards you. You didn’t think you had another in you but it was fast approaching. Your fingers tugged again on Benn’s hair and the man hissed as your ass clenched around his oversensitive cock.

“Bad, bad girl. Perfect pussy though.” Shanks groaned as he rammed his cock deeper. 

“Shanks! Shanks, I think I’m gonna cum again!” You cry out and the man only smirks as he keeps fucking up into you and rubbing your clit. “Go ahead baby. You gonna let me cum in this pretty pussy of yours?” He asks you and as much as your brain is screaming no you can’t help but moan out a yes. 

“See~ what a bad girl you are. Letting some filthy pirates cum in your little holes. A yonko at that.” Shanks grins and you just stare at him with blurry eyes, your body shaking not being able to argue with anything he’s saying. His hips thrust harder as he feels you cumming around his cock again, this time his cock twitches and ropes of his seed flood your pussy. Tingles running throughout both of your bodies as his eyes roll back into his skull. “Oh sweetheart~” His moan whimpers out at the end, feeling how tight your pussy gets and he’s gasping for air chest rising and falling rapidly. 

All of you are breathing heavily as you finally snap back into reality, the situation sinking in further and you can’t believe you just had sex with two pirates, one of whom was a yonko. 

Did you fuck up? Probably… but it was too good to regret. You don’t remember how you fell asleep or even when but when you woke up all traces of Shanks and his crew vanished. You wondered if everything that happened was real or not but there was no doubting the cum that dripped from your gaping used holes. 

Remnants of a night you’ll never forget.

[mrpenguinpants]

Marbled Steps

— Marble requires precision, care, and the right tools for the job. Not so different from people. With too much time, stubbornness, and bandages, even the toughest exteriors can be chipped away.

— Lighter

Part 2: Stepping Stone Light spoilers for Lighter's backstory, I made up most of it. [Masterlist]

When I tell you how long I was uninterested in ZZZ until I got two-hit comboed by Lighter and Harumasa? I went a bit too crazy in the backstory but inb4 zzz rips my headcanon's away from me.

Lighter

When Lighter was first introduced to the Sons of Calydon, you knew he was bad news. It was written all over him. He had the dead-eyed stare of someone just coasting through life on autopilot, a man who moved because he had to, not because he wanted to. His knuckles—split, scarred, and raw—looked more like hardened sinew and calluses than anything resembling normal skin. It was the kind of damage that didn’t come from a single fight but months of them like his fists were tools and nothing more. And then there was his attitude—or lack of it. He didn’t talk much, hardly made eye contact, and moved with an almost mechanical precision. You’d met machines with more personality than that.

You were against him joining from the start. You didn’t care how good of a fighter he might have been or how Big Daddy swore he could be useful. There was something off about Lighter, something unsettling that tugged at the back of your mind like a warning you couldn’t quite articulate. But orders were orders, and Big Daddy’s word was gospel. So you swallowed your irritation, slipped on a pair of gloves, grabbed the man’s rough, battered hand, and dragged him toward your makeshift clinic without so much as a look back. The rest of the group had been watching the newcomer with wary curiosity, but you were more practical. There was no way you’d let those mangled hands spread whatever grime or infection he was carrying to the others. Your first moments with Lighter were marked by the stinging smell of disinfectant and cotton swabs as your audience.

After that disaster of an introduction, you rarely saw Lighter unless it was in brief, passing moments. He never lingered, never stayed to chat, joke, or even let himself absorb the group's chaotic energy. To him, everything seemed to boil down to business, payment, and the next job. He was like a ghost in the group’s midst, always there yet never really present. The Sons of Calydon had their share of larger-than-life personalities, the kinds of people who could fill a room just by breathing, but none of it seemed to leave an impression on Lighter. Everything they threw at him whether it was good-natured teasing, warm camaraderie, or even the occasional shouting match, bounced off him like rain drops against a stone wall. Not a crack, not a chip. For a while, you figured he’d just up and leave, disappearing into the wind in search of whatever suicidal purpose had brought him to this part of the Outer Ring in the first place. It seemed like something he’d do. Pack up without a word, leave everything behind like it didn’t matter, and press forward with the same hollow determination he always carried. And if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure you’d miss him all that much. How do you miss someone who never really lets you know them to begin with?

That’s why the scene you stumbled onto one afternoon caught you off guard and shifted your entire worldview. You’d been walking along the outskirts of Blazewood when you saw a group of thugs closing in on someone. At first, it was hard to tell who they had surrounded, the Outer Ring was full of conflict after all, and gang scraps weren’t anything new. But then you recognized the familiar silhouette. Lighter. He stood in the center of the group, shoulders squared and fists clenched at his sides. The thugs spat words about how “sticking your noses into other people's business,” was against the Outer Ring’s unspoken rules, accusations sharp and heavy with menace. You didn’t catch every detail, but the gist was clear enough. The Sons of Calydon had made enemies and, apparently, Lighter had been dealing with them all on his own. That realization hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t heard so much as a whisper about conflicts between the Sons of Calydon and the other gangs. Had Lighter been dealing with this on his own? Stepping into fights, taking the heat, and keeping the peace in silence while the rest of you remained oblivious? The thought gnawed at you, unsettling in a way that lingered like a bad taste. It was just like him, wasn’t it? To keep the dirty work quiet, never letting anyone see the mess he was cleaning up.

Naturally—because really, what else could you have expected—Lighter had won the fight, even with the odds stacked heavily against him. It was hard not to feel a flicker of awe watching him fight with nothing but his fists. His movements were raw and unrefined, a brute force approach that relied on instinct and sheer willpower more than precision. Still, there was something almost mesmerizing about it, the way he pushed through every hit like it was nothing, determined to end the fight as quickly as possible so he could move on to whatever errand he thought was more important. But as the group's medic, it made you insane. Watching him use adrenaline like some sort of makeshift painkiller, ignoring injuries that any reasonable person would be on the ground crying about, was enough to make your blood boil. Your medic bay was the only place in the Outer Ring anyone could trust to provide reliable treatment, and Lighter’s insistence on throwing himself into fights like he was made of titanium was testing your patience. Seriously, how the hell was he still walking around like everything was fine after taking a beating like that? The man was a walking contradiction—a fighter who refused to stay down, but also too stubborn to take care of himself afterward. Part of you wanted to stomp over there, shake him until some sense rattled loose, and yell at him to actually rest for once in his life. The other part of you wanted to drag him straight to your clinic and lock him there until he got the idea through his thick skull.

Once the fight was over, the thugs sprawled out and groaning, your patience had enough. You marched over to him, your footsteps heavy with purpose, and stopped just short of planting yourself directly in his way. Lighter, of course, didn’t react to your presence. He probably knew you were there anyway because, on top of being the stubborn wall, he just had to be creepy like that. His knuckles were red and raw, and the bruise already blooming under his eye told you he’d taken a hit harder than he could have if he just stepped back instead of going for that last swing. The blank look he shot you, like nothing was out of the ordinary, only fueled the fire bubbling in your chest.

“Come on, you’re done here,” you snapped, grabbing him by the wrist before he could so much as protest. The man might’ve been stronger than you, but you weren’t about to let him wriggle out of this one. Not today. “We’re going to the clinic, and don’t even think about arguing. You can walk on your own or I’ll drag you, your call.”

Predictably, he grumbled under his breath, his resistance half-hearted at best. You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged—he wasn’t about to fight you on this, not when he was already spent. Still, he made it clear he wasn’t happy about it, his muttered complaints trailing behind you as you led him toward your makeshift clinic.

“If you don’t let me patch you up, I swear to Big Daddy I’m ratting you out,” you warned, casting a sharp glance over your shoulder. “And you know the girls will overreact. I’ll even sit back with some popcorn and watch the fireworks if that’s what you want. So either you cooperate now, or you deal with them later.”

That finally got him to stop grumbling, though he shot you a glare that might’ve been intimidating if you weren’t already used to it. He let out a defeated sigh, dragging his boots as if to make the walk to your clinic as dramatic as possible. A groan escaped him as he muttered, “Whatever you say, firecracker.”

Despite the irritation brewing in your chest at the nickname, you felt a small flicker of satisfaction. At least he was coming with you—albeit reluctantly. You didn’t need to say it out loud, but deep down, you knew this stubborn idiot needed someone to force him to stop. To take a breath. To realize that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry everything on his own. And if that meant tracking him down to drag him into your clinic every time he came back battered and bruised, so be it. You've been meaning to work on your arm strength.

Of course, because Big Daddy had a knack, almost like a seer, for spotting the potential in people, Lighter eventually began to change. Slowly, he warmed up to the group, and something shifted in those dead eyes of his. A bit of light returned, faint at first, like the flicker of a dying match, but steady enough to notice. He loosened up, no longer wound so tight that you half-expected him to snap at any second. The coiled tension that once defined his every move started to unravel, replaced by something...well- alive. No longer waiting for someone to tell him what direction to throw his hands. Pieces of his old personality, buried under what felt like miles of dust, mud, and bad memories, began to surface. Little green buds sprouting where you hadn’t thought life could grow. It wasn’t anything dramatic, nothing you’d see in some triumphant moment in the movies, but it was there. Small things. Like the way he'd actually sit down beside you around the campfire rather than brooding in the shadows or how his shoulders seemed just a bit less rigid when you needed to patch him up for the nth time.

He still wasn’t good with names, though. Not at all. The nickname "Firecracker" had seemed to stick and you had rightfully assumed he didn't actually know your real name. But for everyone else? It was like his brain short-circuited whenever he had to recall someone’s moniker. He’d stumble over syllables, brow furrowed like it was the hardest battle he’d ever fought until he finally landed on something almost right. You remembered the time he’d called Caesar “Seasaw” one too many times. The sight of watching him fumble, all rough edges and misplaced vowels, had been funny in a way you couldn’t quite explain that you couldn't help but laugh. Funny, but also strangely endearing. There was something about seeing this man, this stoic fighter who seemed born to brawl, turning pink at the ears, tripping over words like a schoolboy, that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely unreachable.

That didn’t mean he stopped getting into fights. Lighter was still Lighter. He kept his demons close, dragging them with him like shadows wherever he went. His fists still led him places, often leaving him knocking on your door at all hours of the day or night. He’d show up with a split lip, scraped knuckles that looked like they’d been dragged across gravel and that same hollowed stare that never quite went away, no matter how much light he’d let in. You’d huff, muttering something about how you weren’t running a full-time hospital, but he’d just sit there quietly as you patched him up, his silence heavy enough to drown out the room. Even though he had never "lost", he didn't look like a winner. Still...it was an improvement that he was at least coming to you rather than hiding away to lick his wounds by himself.

Once, you’d joked that he must like the color of his blood with how often he bled for no good reason. You’d expected him to brush it off, maybe fire back some sharp quip of his own, but instead, he’d muttered—deadpan—that he’d thrown up a few minutes ago just at the sight of it. That shut you up quick. You’d stopped making jokes about his health after that. It wasn’t as funny when you realized how thin the line was that he walked every day, or how much of himself he’d chipped away just to keep going. Baby steps, you had to remind yourself. You weren’t sure what exactly you were hoping for—some grand breakthrough, maybe—but you knew better than to expect too much too soon. Every failed attempt at getting him to crack a smile felt like a loss, but you’d tell yourself it was progress just to keep from giving up on him entirely. You weren’t going to admit it out loud, but part of you had started to care. A little too much, maybe.

While it was a slow and steady climb, everyone eventually reached the top. Sure, you haven’t seen Lighter let out a full-blown laugh like the rest of the group does, and honestly, you think you’d be terrified if you ever did. The idea of Lighter laughing, really laughing, feels like something unnatural, like it’d crack the very foundation of who he was. But still, progress is progress, and you can confidently say that Lighter has earned his place among the Sons of Calydon. He’s become a part of your little-found family, even if he fits into it like a jagged puzzle piece. He didn't even run away this time when you tried to take a picture to commemorate this grandiose development!

When Billy was let loose to pursue his own journey, it felt like the end of an era. Billy had been the group’s champion, the one everyone looked to when the fights got hard or the nights got dark. With him gone, the question of who would step up next loomed over everyone like a heavy cloud. Although, wasn't the answer obvious? It wasn’t more than a few minutes before you found yourself vouching for Lighter. It made sense, didn’t it? He was the best, after all—undefeated in every scrap, a relentless force that never seemed to break no matter what got thrown his way. His fists were as reliable as clockwork, and if anyone could carry the title of champion, it was him. The decision came easy for the group. A few voices of agreement, some claps on the back, and it was done. Lighter himself didn't agree with the results of the poorly run election, a grimace on his face pulling his mouth at odd angles, but alas, once you get the ball rolling there was no stopping. But the moment felt big, even if no one dared to call it that. There’s something about the way a shift like that cements someone’s place in the group, making them more than just a stray taken in. Lighter wasn’t just there anymore; he belonged.

To mark the occasion, Burnice cracked open a can of Nitro Fuel and passed it his way, the group’s rough equivalent of a ceremonial toast. But it was when you stepped forward, holding out something small but significant, that the moment truly landed. A red scarf—fresh, clean, and carefully presented by you, their makeshift doctor. A memento from Billy, just with a few added accessories to fit the newly appointed champion. You weren’t sure if Lighter even understood the weight of the scarf, but he took it without a word. For a heartbeat, you swore you saw something flicker behind his tired eyes—a spark of gratitude and resolve, maybe, or something close to it.

And then it happened. A sound so quiet you almost missed it. A soft laugh, barely more than a breath, escaped Lighter’s lips. It was faint and rough, like a memory of laughter rather than the real thing, but it was there. It wasn’t the kind of laugh you’d expect—nothing loud or joyful—but it was enough to make the moment stick with you. You didn’t comment on it, though. You just smiled and stepped back, letting the rest of the group crowd around him with their half-joking cheers and pats on the back. For all his deadpan looks and quiet stoicism, Lighter was their champion now. And if the soft laugh was any indication, maybe—just maybe—he was starting to believe it too.

Really, that should have been your first warning. A giant, blaring signal complete with flashing red lights and alarm bells. Seeing those lips part in a husky, unguarded laugh that escaped before he could regret it, and watching that light—soft but unmistakable—return to his eyes should’ve told you everything you needed to know: the next few months were going to leave you an absolute mess. How you didn’t notice it sooner is beyond you. Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe it was because you had your hands full, or maybe you were just being an oblivious mule. Either way, it hit you like a freight train one day: Lighter was… really handsome. Incredibly so. Unfairly so. As the medic for the Sons of Calydon, you’ve seen more than your fair share of half-naked men and women—enough that the sight doesn’t even faze you anymore. A bare chest is a bare chest when you’re stitching someone up or doing routine physicals. And for the longest time, that applied to Lighter too. If he stomped into your clinic bloodied and shirtless, you were all business. It was just work. Professional.

But now? Now that Lighter had started to loosen up, to let himself belong among the group, you were seeing him in a very, very different light. From playing along with Caesar's ridiculous scenarios, staying sober so Lucy could finally stop playing caretaker and let herself relax, to turning the radio's volume down when he noticed Piper about to drift off to sleep. Most importantly, there was no damn distraction to save you when he pulled off that worn biker jacket and undershirt during sparring matches with Burnice. It made sense, you told yourself. He didn’t want his clothes to catch fire. Burnice’s sparring matches weren’t exactly gentle, and leather jackets weren’t fireproof. It was practical, completely logical—nothing more! Certainly not a ploy to make you feel like you are on the verge of seeing the gates of heaven far too early. And yet, there you were. Frozen. Staring. Watching droplets of sweat roll down the sharp lines of his abdomen like they were defying gravity just to mess with you. Forcing yourself to look away was suddenly a task requiring herculean strength. And the worst part? Your brain didn’t even give you a fighting chance. It wandered without your permission, a little voice whispering things like “Oh, so that’s what a body sculpted by fistfights and bad decisions looks like...what were we thinking about again?"

You were trying to be professional—really, you were—but it was getting harder every single day. Case in point: Lighter had just dropped onto the bed inside the medic bay after another job, peeling off his jacket with that same maddening, careless motion he always had—like undressing in front of you wasn’t a one-way ticket to your complete and utter ruin. And to make matters worse? He didn’t even have any real injuries! There was one—count it, one—itty bitty little cut on the side of his hip. Barely even noticeable. You were convinced he’d probably done it himself just to have an excuse to bother you. How dare he. You dragged in a deep breath, squaring your shoulders as if preparing for battle. Because you need to make it clear, this was life and death for you at this point.

“Really?” you said, deadpan, trying not to look directly at him as he lounged with that infuriatingly calm energy. “You’re out here making a scene over this?”

Lighter tilted his head slightly, his expression neutral but with just enough of a smirk to drive you crazy, “Didn’t say it was bad. Figured you’d wanna check.”

“You mean this tiny paper cut sent you crying here?” You let out an exaggerated sigh, forcing yourself to focus on the tiny cut on his hip as if it were a serious injury—though you couldn’t quite bring yourself to believe that. It was just a scrap. A tiny thing. Yet, there he was, acting like he was on the brink of death. You fumbled with the bandages, your hands betraying you as they shook more than they should have. You stared at the spot, trying to ignore how absurd this whole situation was, but still feeling the pressure of his steady gaze. Your fingers weren’t cooperating, fumbling as you tore off a thin piece of tape. This was supposed to be simple, yet here you were, making a bigger deal of it than it really was.

“Still standing, aren’t I?” Lighter cracked one eye open to glance at you, and for a second—just a second—you thought you saw the faintest glimmer of amusement. This cheeky brat.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered under your breath, finally pulling out the smallest bandage you could find. You crouched beside him, determined to slap it on and get him out of there as quickly as possible. But of course, when you leaned closer to inspect the so-called injury, you realized your mistake. Lighter hadn’t moved an inch, his posture relaxed, like this was just another ordinary moment for him. That lazy confidence of his made everything worse, making it harder to ignore the sharp, defined lines of his stomach, the way his skin felt warm even through the faintest brush of your fingertips. Your breath caught for a split second, but you forced yourself to focus. You swallowed hard, trying not to dwell on the way your pulse was racing, and pressed the bandage over the "wound", not letting your fingertips linger on the soft skin, “There. All better. You’ll live to fight another day, champ.”

You stood up quickly, your movements stiff as you gathered the scattered supplies, and turned your back to him, half out of instinct, half out of necessity. You couldn’t risk him seeing the way your cheeks had flushed, the heat creeping up your neck and settling on your face like an unwanted mark. The last thing you needed was for him to catch on to how much he’d affected you. No, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing. It would be far too embarrassing, and you definitely weren’t ready to face that kind of vulnerability, not with him, not yet.

Lighter let out a soft chuckle, the sound light and maddeningly soft. You hated how it seemed to echo in your chest, stirring something you couldn’t quite name. It'll be imprinting into the folds of your brain labeled specifically for his laughs because you were a psycho who did things like that, “Told you it wasn’t bad.”

“Next time you come in here for no reason, I’m charging you a medic’s fee. Double if you don’t bleed. Someone’s got to keep you in line,” you shot back, but your voice came out softer than you’d intended, almost warm. You couldn’t help it. The way the sunlight caught him just right, casting gentle shadows across the sharp planes of his face, made everything feel… quieter. For a beat, the air hung heavy between you, thick with something unspoken. His gaze locked onto yours, steady and unreadable, and you felt a strange, unexpected pull.

“Yeah, but if I fall, I know you’ll catch me and pull me back," Lighter’s voice was casual, but it was heavy. Af if he was stating a fact or a universal truth. He tilted his head back against the wall, the gesture almost too relaxed for these words, as if time itself had slowed down just for him. His hand brushed over the bandages you’d carefully placed, the motion languid and unhurried like he wasn’t just tending to a simple injury but savoring the quiet, the stillness between you. Each pass of his fingers over the bandages was deliberate, a slow rhythm that seemed to draw out the moment, making it stretch and linger like he wasn’t in any hurry to go anywhere. What the hell? What are you even supposed to say to that? This is so unfair, super unfair.

“Anyway, you’re good to go,” you said quickly, your voice a little more strained than you intended as you tossed the used wipes into the trash, taking a small step back. You found yourself brushing your hand over your ear, almost absentmindedly, as if trying to shake off the lingering warmth of the moment, or maybe just to steady yourself. You couldn’t quite tell. You checked for any heat under your touch, feeling a bit self-conscious, but the action didn’t feel quite as innocent as it should have. “Try not to get into another fight before dinner, would you?”

You can hear Lighter stand, stretching with a deep, satisfied groan that you definitely didn’t file away in your mental catalog for later, “No promises firecracker. Some fights come lookin’ for me. I'll save you a plate, but don't take too long or I'll eat it instead.”

You rolled your eyes, but despite yourself, you couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at your lips as you waved him away. Damn him. The way he carried himself, so effortlessly fitted into his bones, made your heart do that annoying little flip that you couldn’t quite control. The smile lingered longer than you wanted it to, and you hated how much he could still get under your skin. Baby steps, you'd tell yourself, but still progress.

It wasn’t as if you’d ever expected anything to happen between you and Lighter. Sure, Caesar liked to go on about destiny and how her romance novels always had similar plots, but that didn’t mean anything. You were fine with things the way they were—really, you were. Your feelings weren’t so ridiculous or territorial that you’d go snapping the heads off anyone who talked to him. In fact, you were glad that everyone thought of him fondly. He deserved that. He had a way of drawing people in, making them feel seen, and honestly, it was nice to know you weren’t the only one who appreciated that about him. Still, you just wished everyone would stop trying to play matchmaker. That, quite literally, would be the worst thing ever. Not because the idea of Lighter seeing you as something more wasn’t appealing—it was, and you’d be lying if you said otherwise—but because the Sons of Calydon collectively shared one working brain cell at best. The very thought of them trying to orchestrate a confession or some contrived romantic scenario was mortifying. Caesar, of course, was the ringleader of it all, constantly preaching her philosophy of bold, loud declarations of love, chest puffed up and voice ringing for all the world to hear.

And every time, you’d look her dead in the eye and remind her of the months she spent silently pining over her first love, fantasizing about confessions she never made until it was too late and they’d moved away. That love story had ended not with a bold declaration, but with an awkward goodbye and the realization that she never even liked them in the first place. Besides, the thought of your feelings being laid bare for everyone to see? If that ever happened, you’d find the nearest oil pit and swan dive into it without a second thought. The embarrassment alone would be enough to finish you off. No, it was better to keep things as they were, safe and uncomplicated, even if it meant ignoring the nagging thought of what could be. Some things, after all, were better left unsaid.

Burnice was only marginally better than Caesar. Sure, she wasn’t quite as loud about her “proclaim your burning love and passion” philosophy, but she had her own infuriating quirks—chief among them being her obsession with matchmaking. Maybe all that Nitro Fuel was starting to mess with her brain. She had an uncanny knack for spotting opportunities to stir the pot, and whenever the moment arose, she’d make a scene. Without fail, she’d find some contrived excuse to pull Lighter into your orbit, nudging the two of you together as if proximity alone would somehow spark a whirlwind romance. Never mind the fact that you already knew Lighter well enough—too well, really. You’d seen the man at his lowest, whining like a baby about heatstroke after stubbornly choosing to wear that ridiculous heavy leather jacket in the middle of a blazing afternoon. And yet, Burnice acted like you were strangers in need of a push, her attempts so blatantly obvious that you couldn’t look her in the eye for a week afterward. Those eyes of hers practically sparkled with mischief, and the memory of her smug expression alone was enough to make your skin crawl.

But what made it worse—so much worse—was that Lighter wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t oblivious to the madness unfolding around him, just tripping on the reason why it was happening. Perhaps it was an inside joke at your expense? You’d never forget the moment when he tilted his head, looking at you with that furious concern, about if someone broke your heart and if he needed to knock their lights out. It had been said with such casual sincerity that it had left you utterly speechless, your brain scrambling to decide whether to laugh, cry, or crawl into the nearest hole and never emerge.

Piper and Lucy, thankfully, had a more hands-off approach to the whole situation, though that didn’t mean they left you entirely unbothered. They understood, perhaps better than anyone else, how precarious the balance was. How one wrong step could send everything crashing down. Still, their restraint was only relative. Piper couldn’t resist her playful jabs, her slow teasing remarks always accompanied by that sly, knowing smile. And Lucy, ever the practical one, delivered her opinions with the sharp precision of a scalpel, cutting through your defenses whether you wanted her to or not. You half expected her to whip out a whiteboard filled with colorful markers. They had their arguments ready, like they’d been keeping a running list of evidence to throw at you. Piper, with her casual observations about how Lighter’s gaze lingered a little too long when you weren’t looking, and Lucy, with her unshakable conviction that you were too blind to see what was right in front of you. They’d remind you of the small, unmistakable gestures like the way Lighter’s posture changed when you entered the room, how his relaxed indifference seemed to shift into something sharper, more focused. They noticed how he always managed to save his best, most effortless smiles for you, how he’d offer help to you before anyone else without a second thought. Even your name, spoken in passing, seemed to make him perk up like he couldn’t help but respond to anything that revolved around you. Piper loved to point that out, making it seem like some grand cosmic joke you were too stubborn to get, while Lucy preferred to frame it as a ticking clock. To her, it was only a matter of time before someone else noticed him and decided to take their chances.

A gang of Thirens had made a pit stop in Blazewood, their arrival unexpected but surprisingly uneventful. They’d come seeking nothing more than a place to rest, not to stir up trouble, a rarity in and of itself. Kasa, seeing no problem in lending a hand, had granted them permission to stay, with the firm condition that they kept the peace. To everyone’s astonishment, they honored her terms without so much as a hint of hostility. It wasn’t often rival gangs showed even a sliver of willingness to cooperate, let alone behave like decent human beings. Rarer still were those who managed to charm the locals, but these Thirens were doing just that. Their easy smiles and polite demeanor had disarmed the townsfolk, who quickly warmed up to them. Laughter could already be heard echoing through the streets, strangers turned companions over shared drinks and stories.

But while everyone else seemed content to embrace the unexpected camaraderie, you were about two seconds away from dunking your head into the nearest barrel of cold water. It wasn’t the Thirens’ presence itself that rattled you, nor their good behavior, but something else entirely—an unspoken frustration simmering just beneath your skin. Your nerves felt frayed, stretched taut, and every moment of forced composure only added fuel to the fire threatening to ignite inside you.

You clenched your fists, trying to steady yourself, but the thought lingered: if you didn’t find a way to cool down, you might just explode like one of Burnice’s flamethrowers, leaving nothing but chaos in your wake.

"Wow, what's your workout routine? Your biceps are so defined."

Never mind cooling off, you were going to rip that lynx Thiren’s tail clean off and kick her straight to the curb before you even thought about dunking your head in cold water. The entire time she’d been in Blazewood, she’d grown bolder and bolder with Lighter, testing the limits of your patience with every sly remark and flirtatious gesture. At first, it was casual. A few light touches here and there, a fleeting brush of her hand as she laughed just a little too hard at one of his blunt jokes. You’d told yourself to let it go. She was a guest, after all, and the last thing anyone needed was unnecessary drama. But then she escalated. Full-blown wrapping her tail around his arm under the pretense of "measuring" the circumference of his triceps-to-biceps ratio? That was the last straw. If she was so curious, she could bring all her questions to you. You’d be happy to explain. Preferably while she was running as fast as her legs could carry her out of town.

Before Lighter can even begin to gently but firmly remove the tail from his bicep, another hand comes down with the speed of a strike, swatting the offending limb away with a swift motion—like a cat swatting at an annoying fly. And a cat would be the perfect comparison for how you look at that moment. Teeth bared, eyes narrowed, claws metaphorically out and ears flat against your head in pure, unfiltered territorial instinct. Your hand immediately shoots up to wrap around Lighter’s other arm, the one that hadn’t been tainted by the lynx’s touch, and you pull it to your chest, holding it possessively. There’s no mistaking the intent in the way you hold onto him, the clear message that this one’s taken so back off.

You and the lynx share a pointed, searing glare. Neither of you bothers to mask the silent standoff, both of you sizing the other up in the most primal way possible. There’s no subtlety in this, it truly is an animal kingdom.

"Sorry, miss, but I need to borrow my gang member for some private business. I'm sure you understand," you say, your smile wide and innocent, though the murder in your eyes is as sharp as a blade. You glance up at Lighter with a pointed, almost desperate look, silently urging him to come with you now. Whatever expression you're wearing—serious, frustrated, or somewhere in between—it’s enough for Lighter to nod and start to move. But just as he takes a step, that damn tail wraps around his arm again, yanking him back like some sort of trap. The lynx’s sly, satisfied grin tells you everything you need to know. She wasn’t done playing yet. You grit your teeth. The only thing left to do is bargain with Burnice and make sure that tail goes up in flames. "Accidentally," of course.

"I'm sure your other members can be asked. You're all capable, aren't you?" The lynx sneers, her ear twitching in agitation as her claws come out in warning. You raise your chin, turning your nose up at her in response. You’d like to see her try. If she thought she could take a swing at you without consequence, she was sorely mistaken. The tension thickens, and it’s all too easy to imagine how this might escalate. You can feel your hands already twitching to grab for her, ready to turn this into a full-blown catfight. But before anything hits the boiling point, Lighter tenses beside you. With a quiet, fluid motion, he frees his arm from both your combined grips, gently but firmly pulling away. It’s a perfect, almost effortless escape, and in that moment, he stands between the two of you like the undefeated champion he truly is. Even between two people crying for his attention, he manages to slip by with ease, a subtle reminder that he’s always in control of the situation.

"Sorry, doc's orders," Lighter says smoothly, his voice laced with a calm finality that brooks no argument, "If you need anything, ask any of the Sons of Calydon. Like you said, we're all capable. And if you’re looking to step up your workout, speak to the boss."

Then, as if to punctuate the moment, he places his hand at the small of your back, his fingers blistering hot against your skin. With a slight push, he leads you away, his steps measured and steady, pulling you effortlessly from the chaos. You resist the urge to glance over your shoulder, but a small, spiteful part of you can’t help but wonder what expression the lynx is wearing. Shock? Disbelief? Maybe even a twinge of jealousy? The thought of her standing there, seething with frustration, gives you a twisted sense of satisfaction. You imagine her, the confident, bold creature who thought she had a chance, now left standing in your wake. But, frankly, you’re too absorbed in the rush you’re feeling—surging through your veins like wildfire. The excitement of the moment, and the subtle victory. It’s intoxicating. You feel like you’re walking on air, every step of Lighter’s guiding hand filling you with a heady sense of power. Maybe seeing the gates of heaven early isn’t so bad after all. The thought flickers in your mind, but you can’t bring yourself to care. The world is yours now, and nothing, not even a scorned lynx, can take it from you.

"So, you wanna fill me in on what that was firecracker?"

And just like that, you’re plummeting back to earth, gravity pulling you in hard. What was that? Did you black out for a second? Did some other version of you just take over and make a damn fool out of yourself? When did you get so bold, so… possessive? Your heart pounds in your chest as you replay every move, every look, every gesture, and it makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. Mass hysteria, that’s it. That’s the best explanation. Maybe you’re just dreaming, wrapped up in some fevered nightmare. Any second now, you’ll wake up, face buried in a pillow, your heart still racing from the humiliation, and you’ll scream bloody murder into it, swearing never to think about today again. Or… maybe, if you're really unlucky, you’ll throw yourself into the nearest oil pit just to escape this entire disaster. Either way, neither outcome seems particularly comforting, and you’re starting to think maybe both sound equally tempting right now.

"Heat stroke-induced hallucinations. I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," you blurt, the words coming out quicker than your brain can catch up. You force yourself to sound blasé, like you don’t care like it wasn’t a big deal. But deep down, you know it’s a pathetic attempt at saving face. The lie slips off your tongue like water, but it’s as fragile as glass. Lighter’s response is immediate, a bark of laughter that fills the air around you, genuine and light, the kind that could make anyone laugh along, but at this moment, it only makes the pit in your stomach deepens. He knows exactly what you’re doing. He knows you—and here you are, pretending to be clueless.

The silence hangs between you both, a strange mix of relief and tension, and you can’t decide whether it’s a kindness from Lighter—letting you escape the awkwardness—or if he’s just as unsure of what to say next as you are. Either way, it's slowly driving you mad. You can feel your thoughts swirling, like a tornado of "What do I do now?" and "Did I just make a huge mistake?". Hell, you even jumped up from your seat and hissed like some wild animal. You glance at Lighter, his easy stride never faltering, the faintest hint of some satisfied smile still lingering on his lips. It's the perfect opportunity, he doesn't even look freaked out which means even if he doesn't reciprocate your feelings, he won't run for the hills. Lighter had followed you. He’d walked right alongside you, and then—he put his hand on your back. It’s still there. You can feel the warmth of it, his fingers almost too casual as they rest on you, a small gesture that has your insides doing flips.

Should you just go for it?

The thought of him being swarmed by others, other people constantly hanging around, making it harder to even get a moment alone with him, suddenly makes everything feel urgent. And the weirdest part? You can’t help but wonder if, for once, it’s your chance to actually get ahead of the chaos. But then there’s the other side of your brain, the one telling you to be careful. The one that reminds you that if this goes wrong, you’ll have to live with the consequences of letting things spiral out of control. It's all too much, too fast, but here you are, standing in the middle of the storm, unsure of whether you’re about to leap into it or run the other way.

Ah, screw it. Big Daddy didn't raise a quitter.

"Lighter, I—" You stumble over your words, your thoughts scrambling as you take a shaky breath, trying to summon the courage to say whatever it is that’s been building up inside you. For a moment, the familiar walls you’ve carefully constructed around yourself seem to crumble, and you feel the weight of it all. The hesitation, the fear, and your own uncertainty. You turn to look up at him, and your breath catches in your throat. He’s already watching you, eyes soft and steady, not teasing or playful as usual. This time, there’s something different, something deeper. Softer, quieter, more malleable. It’s as if he’s been waiting for you for a long time now. Is this what Lucy was referring to when your back was turned?

"Yeah?" he prompts gently, his voice low and coaxing, as if he knows you need a little push but won’t rush you. His eyes remain fixed on yours, unblinking and patient, making the air feel thick with anticipation. You hesitate, but only for a moment. The weight of his gaze doesn’t feel as heavy as it once did. Instead, it makes your heart race in a way that feels... almost comforting. You can feel the nerves slipping away, the words starting to form at the edge of your tongue.

"I—uh..." You pause, taking a steadying breath, and this time the words come easier, "I just wanted to say that... I don’t think I’ve said it enough, but I really appreciate you. More than you probably know. I know I don’t always show it, but...I-"

You glance up at him again, afraid of what you might see. Would he laugh it off? Or, worse, would he back away? Instead, you find his expression unreadable, but not unkind. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place—a flicker of surprise, maybe, or understanding—but you don’t regret it. Not now. Not when you’ve finally let it out.

"I just wanted to say that I li-"

"Yo! There you both are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

You jump away from Lighter as though he’d just set you on fire, a startled screech bubbling up in your throat before you force it down, stamping it out with all the dignity you can muster. Your heart pounds, and for a split second, you feel the world tilt on its axis. You whip your head around to find Caesar jogging toward you, waving her hand in the air like it’s just another day, completely unaware of the moment she’s just walked in on. Oh, sweet, oblivious Caesar...

"The Thirens challenged us to a friendly match! We can’t exactly go in without our Champion! You free to scuffle, Lighter? Oh, and if anything bad happens, I’m counting on you, Doc!" She beams at you both, her enthusiasm practically radiating off her, and just like that, you feel a little bit of the tension slip away. It’s impossible to stay mad at her when she’s looking at you like that. So full of excitement and energy, completely unaware of the chaos she just walked in on. Lighter, for his part, looks like a newborn fawn. His usual confident swagger seems to falter for a moment as he scratches the back of his neck, a slight blush creeping up his neck that he clearly tries to hide behind a forced grin. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly caught off guard by the sudden interruption.

"Uh, yeah, I’m in for a friendly match," he says, but his voice is a little too hesitant, a little too unsure. He glances at you like he's not entirely sure what to do next. “But, uh... firecracker, you're still good to patch me up afterward, right? Just in case things... get out of hand?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, and for a second, you almost want to laugh at how unlike him he seems right now. You can’t help but feel a bubble of laughter rise out of you as the sheer absurdity of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks. The way Lighter is standing there, all awkward and fidgety, avoiding eye contact and tripping over words. You feel ridiculous, and you can’t tell if you're cringing more at how completely out of character this is or at how you’re both so blatantly fumbling through it.

You’re definitely not the smooth, cool-headed person you thought you were.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be there," you say, stumbling over your words like a clumsy fool. "Making sure you don't... uh, turn into a human pincushion, or whatever."

You wince the second the words leave your mouth. Human pincushion? Seriously? You could've come up with something better, but no, this is what happens when your brain turns to mush. You quickly look away, almost as if you're trying to disappear, but your cheeks are already burning, and there's no escaping it now. Lighter, looking just as silly, rubs the back of his neck in a way that makes him seem a little too much like a lost puppy. He’s not even trying to be smooth. He manages a half-smile, but it’s so awkward that it’s almost endearing.

“Right. Yeah, no one wants that. I’ll... leave the stabbing to the Thirens, I guess,” he says with a half-nod as if that makes any sense at all. It’s like the two of you are desperately trying to play it cool, but you’re both failing spectacularly. But then, like a breath of fresh air, Caesar’s cheery voice cuts through the ridiculousness. She grins, completely unaware of the awkward dance you two just performed.

"Great! Let’s go! We’re gonna show the Thirens who’s boss!"

And just like that, you both get swept up in her energy, still feeling a little bashful but grateful for the distraction. You chance a look at Lighter to see that he is doing the same, instantly averting both your eyes to the very interesting ground. Still, the top of the mountain is within sight.

Baby steps.

[animasola86]

🐻 A HUG TO REMEMBER

m!shapeshifter x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.1k

After a night full of unusual adventures and ordeals, you find yourself in the arms of your most memorable encounter, and you can't complain.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Aftercare! Vaginal sex! Creampies! Cockwarming! Fluff? (READ ON AO3!)

This is part 6 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7 It's the continuation of the continuation of OPTION 3 - can be read individually for the smut portion, but if you want to follow the plot, I'd advise reading the previous two parts or at least the first part, preferably all of them. This is the conclusion of the story after all!

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your way to get some fresh air, you first run into a werewolf, who knots and breeds you, then into two vampires, who spitroast you, and after all that... here we are...

“Hey. Hey, can you hear me?”

A deep voice rings in your ears, a low thrum in the void around you, muffled as if through various layers of cloth or from behind a thick door. A rasping inhale lets you stir, and slowly your body feels like your own again. Your limbs are tingling, your throat hurts, and something deep within you as well, there's an overall soreness all around, but when your eyes flutter open, you're just glad to be alive.

The sight in front of you still scares you, and you let out a hoarse whimper. A large man leans over you, tall and bulky, bulging muscles under a plaid shirt, strong legs, black hair, slightly curled and thick, a full beard, dark eyes staring down at you from under heavy eyebrows. You shy away, flinching, breathing harder.

“Hey, shh, it's all good. You're safe now,” he tells you with that low voice that vibrates through your body, and you frown, blinking at him in confusion, unable to relax as you stare at him. “Aww, don't tell me you've already forgotten about me?”

He flashes you a soft smile, exposing white teeth, and none of them seem abnormally large or pointy. You sigh and close your eyes again, trying to focus on your breathing, too weak to worry about anything at this point. Suddenly you're being lifted, held by strong arms, pressed to a warm chest, and you can't help it, you lean into it, savoring the protective gesture. The man carries you away, no idea where to, doesn't matter anyway.

“They got you good, hm?” He keeps talking to you, even though you can't find the strength to reply. “Should have stayed with me, little one.”

Slowly, you blink your eyes open and stare at him, furrowing your brows, really looking at him. Why does he feel so familiar? Slowly you move your hand up and brush your fingertips against his beard, the rough texture bringing up fuzzy memories of... fur? He gives you another smile, his eyes boring into yours. Your lips part as you try to sound out a question, but the pain in your throat is too strong to get any words out.

“Yes, little Red, I am your big bad wolf,” he replies nevertheless, seemingly reading your mind. Your eyes widen. It is him. The werewolf who knotted you. This is his human form? “But don't worry too much about it now. Let's get you cleaned up first, yeah?”

A sudden rush of warmth fills your cheeks and you look away, noticing not only the ripped shirt you borrowed from him but the large amounts of dried cum and blood on your exposed skin. The state those vampires have left you in is horrible. Vampires... for fuck's sake. You wanted to tick all of what happened tonight off as a dream, a nightmare maybe even, but the evidence that it may have actually happened after all is disturbing and hard to ignore. Sighing soundlessly, you rest your head against his shoulder as it starts to spin painfully. This is all too much.

He shifts you on his arms, hugging you closer as he keeps walking. There's a faint glow around you, and you realize that the morning must be close. You survived the night, huh? You're still not too sure about it.

You end up back in his cabin, though luckily not in the primitive basement but in an actual bedroom. He puts you down gently, makes you sit on the edge of the bed as he carefully peels the remnants of his ruined shirt off your body. You just watch him when he leaves the room for a moment before returning with a bowl of water and a washcloth, and when he starts cleaning you up, you close your eyes and let him, his large hands surprisingly soft and gentle as they work.

Eventually he pushes you onto your back, and again, you let him, relaxing into the soft sheets, as he starts wiping between your legs. You shiver when he brushes against your still sensitive clit. He gives you a few rubs, but then moves on, presses the cloth to your thigh, which causes you to wince when a sharp pain jolts through you.

“Can't believe they both fed off you,” you hear him mumble, his low voice a deep rumble in the air. “Insatiable bastards.” His hand moves back to your mound, his thick fingers teasing along your slit. “And they even cleaned you out, hm? Damn, all that effort for naught...”

You slowly open your eyes, meeting his dark gaze. There's a strange tension in your stomach. He keeps rubbing your labia, slowly pressing between them. His eyes are almost black now and as intense as you remember them, even though they've looked at you out of a very different face.

“I guess I have to keep you here a little longer,” he whispers, slowly leaning over you, one hand still at your cunt, the other braced beside your shoulder as he hovers above you. Your hands move up, brushing against his hard stomach. “To make sure you're fine, of course,” he adds, smirking down at you.

You bite your lip, watching him, your fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt. You have no idea why you feel the sudden urge to pull him closer, wrap your legs around his waist and let him ravage you all over again, human form or not. This whole night has been quite the (sex) adventure, and somehow you don't want it to end. You don't want to go back to your boring life where everything is as expected, planned and sterile.

You'd rather stay with this savage man, who, considering your other encounters, has been the most memorable, and you can't wait for the moon to rise again. For now, you are also quite content with the hairy man above you. His deep laugh full of surprise echoes through the room as you grip the collar of his shirt and pull him down, smacking your mouth against his. He's quick to kiss you back, deep and passionately, your tongues meeting in a wild dance, as he leans his wide body onto yours carefully.

“Damn, Red, you developed quite the hunger, didn't you?” he mouths between kisses, his warm breath fanning over your lips. You can only nod, your cheeks burning up in slight embarrassment, but you still buck your hips up against his groin invitingly. “I'm not complaining,” he adds, playfully nibbling on your bottom lip as he responds with a roll of his pelvis.

Continuing to kiss him with a need that's new to yourself too, you let your hands wander over his broad chest before you fumble with the buttons of his shirt. You groan in slight impatience as your shaking hands can't quite finish the job. He leans back then, looking at you, then simply rips the shirt and shrugs it off nonchalantly, exposing a wide toned chest with just the right amount of dark chest hair.

Your fingers rub through it, it's not abnormally much, just enough to cover his big pecs before it thins out into a thick trail vanishing into his jeans. You follow it, palms sliding over hard muscles before your fingers curl into his belt, holding his dark gaze as you lick your swollen lips. His smirk is playful but has a dark edge to it. Instead of letting you continue on your quest to get him as naked as you are, he grabs your hands and pins them above your head, holding your wrists together with one large hand while his other hand closes around your jaw as he leans closer once more.

“You really want this, huh?” he growls quietly.

You nod frantically, not even hesitating anymore. There's a tiny bit of protest in your mind when it reminds you of the state of your sore body, but you really couldn't care less right now. You want to feel good again, and you remember, even though the details are hazy, that this man (albeit in his other form) has made you feel how you've never felt before.

He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring as he takes in your scent, before he crashes his lips to yours again, quickly slipping his tongue into your mouth. His beard rubs along your soft skin, adding to the growing desire nestling deep within you. You struggle in his hold, really needing to touch him, grab his shoulders, sink your fingers into his thick hair, feel the strength of his body, but for now all you have is his eager mouth.

Once your head is spinning and your lungs burning, he slowly moves his deep kisses down your face, along your jaw, his warm hand rubbing over your sore throat before he turns your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart thundering in anticipation. But there are no teeth on your skin, just wet lips and a warm tongue, as he starts sucking on your pulse, lapping at the bruises he works into you.

“Tonight,” he huffs against you, “I'm gonna mark you properly. I'll make you mine, little one, all mine. So no one will ever lay a hand on you again.”

You gasp breathlessly, still unable to get any words through your hurting throat, but he seems to understand your non-verbal agreement as he presses his lips to your neck before leaning back, looking down at you, his dark eyes wandering over your flushed face. You look back out of hooded eyes with your lips parted and quivering. It's a strangely comforting thought to have this man, this werewolf, claim you. You feel protected, safe, and even if you can't properly think about the reality of it just yet, you can't find it in you to deny him.

“Y-yours,” you manage to croak out, and a wide smile breaks on his bearded face.

He lets go of your wrists and pulls you into the embrace of his strong arms, and you immediately snake your hands around his neck and into his hair, sighing contently as you feel the thick locks between your fingers and his mouth once again on yours.

For the longest time you're just lying together, cuddled up on his bed, hands holding and exploring, tongues wrestling, his heavy body pushing you into the mattress, and you wouldn't have it any other way. You're moaning against his lips as he starts growling low in his throat, his lower body rubbing against yours with increasing need. You can feel the heat of his hard cock through his jeans, and in an attempt to show him you're ready, you lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, pressing your equally hot center right against his bulge.

A snarl comes from his mouth as he leans back abruptly, braced on his arms, chest heaving, muscles dancing, before he jumps back fully, quickly fumbling with his belt and pants before he is finally completely naked, his erection bouncing against his lower stomach as he starts crawling back over you. You try to get a better look at it, but he's claiming your mouth for another kiss, though from what you've seen he may just be as big as his wolf counterpart, minus the bulbous knot, unfortunately.

But you're sure you'll experience that again very soon. The moon couldn't rise fast enough.

You expect him to immediately claim your hungrily clenching cunt, but instead of shoving his cock into you, you feel his thick fingers rubbing between your wet folds, coaxing quiet mewls out of your hurting throat. He keeps kissing you as he starts properly fingering you, pushing his long digits as deep as they would go. It's a lazy rhythm but it's enough to build up that sizzling heat inside you, and the tension builds and builds, until you cry out soundlessly against his mouth, stiffening beneath him, body arching, thighs twitching as you come hard around his fingers.

He inhales your breathless moans, plunging his tongue deeper while slowly massaging your fluttering walls, letting you down easy. You groan quietly in protest when he pulls his fingers out, the sudden emptiness almost painful. A chuckle escapes him as he presses his lips against your warm cheek and leans back, looking down. You follow his gaze and watch how he grabs his throbbing cock in his big hand, its tip as angry and red looking as you remember his wolfish dick. It's not as monstrous though, but still thick and veiny and long, and your head spins just from imagining it inside you.

You don't have to imagine it for long though when he then brings the precum leaking crown to your folds, swiping it through them to gather your slick, before he presses against your entrance, carefully, oh so careful you wish he'd be a bit rougher, and slowly your cunt opens up to him, and inch by inch, his cock disappears inside you. You arch your head back as you feel the stretch, your lips parted for a soundless moan.

He shifts on top of you, lowers himself between your wide spread legs, brings his forearms on either side of your shoulders, his hands cradling your head as he leans down again to shower your flushed face with soft kisses while he rolls his hips against you, so gentle you barely feel how he forces his cock past your resistance until he eventually bottoms out. Somehow it's a comfort to feel this full, filled and stretched, claimed.

Your hands dig into his hair, holding him tightly as you move your tongue around his, inhaling his low growls and groans as you grind your pelvis against him. His first thrust makes you see stars. It's a sudden jolt of pain, a deep little stab, and you flinch, gasping. He leans back and watches you, his eyes so dark and intense you can only stare back. He thrusts again, taking in your reaction, and when you flinch once more, he soothes his hands over your head.

“Does it hurt?” he asks gravelly, his voice vibrating through you, adding to the building heat inside you.

“No,” you croak out. There's discomfort, in your throat, in your ass, but your cunt feels right with his cock moving within it, a perfect fit, a thing meant to be. Your hands move to his face, rubbing over his bearded cheeks. “Keep going,” you manage to whisper past the ache. “Please...”

His lips curl up into a smirk before he leans down to kiss yours softly, then suddenly sits up fully, braced on his strong arms, resting on his haunches. He grabs your thighs and drapes them over his, and you automatically wrap your legs around his body and cross your feet, holding onto him as he starts snapping his hips against you, his large hands now on your waist, thumbs pressing onto your fluttering stomach.

He falls into a slow but steady rhythm, pushing deep and simultaneously pulling you into his thrusts, and all you can do is fall back into the softness of the bed and let it happen, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as you moan and mewl, your eyes rolling back in growing pleasure. He's much more careful than he was in his wolf form, really looks out for you, but still uses all of his body to stimulate yours.

You feel hot and cold all over, goosebumps rippling over your skin, deep shivers crashing through you, that heat building up deep within, ready to explode into a ravaging wildfire. Wet squelching sounds mix with the loud slapping of skin against skin, add to that your breathless gasps and his low grunts and groans, and you feel your head spinning in the best kind of vertigo.

When he eventually picks up the pace, you are immediately propelled up into new spheres of bliss, your eyes flying open as he grips your waist harder, moves his hips faster, his cock pistoning in and out with force and fervor. Your walls clench around him, your whole body shuddering under the assault. Hoarse moans escape you, lips parted wide, lungs burning, that tension in your stomach bordering on painful.

You come with a shrill squeak, almost soundless, ripping through your sore throat, but all you feel is burning pleasure, all-consuming, taking over every nerve and muscle, and he keeps fucking you through it with hard and deep thrusts, forcing through your tightening walls as they clamp around him with a force that makes you dizzy. He grunts loudly, shifting on top of you until his entire body rests on yours, pushing you into the bed, a comforting weight that keeps you grounded as you float away on that tidal wave of pleasure.

His hips smack into yours, even faster, more urgent and frantic, his groans getting louder as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his beard tickling your fluttering pulse. You gasp beneath him, your trembling arms snaking around his body until you sink your fingernails into his back, holding on for dear life as he fucks you with reckless abandon.

It's all a blur now, a whirlwind of noises and sensations, little jolts of pain and overwhelming slaps of bliss, you can't breathe, you can't move, you can just take it, and you take it with growing need, absorbing every pummeling thrust, every deep plunge, every poke at your cervix, every drag along your walls, every rub against your clit. His breath is hot against your neck, his heavy body embracing you whole, eager to swallow you up, make you his. And you're here for it. For him.

Your noises grow louder, forcing out of your body, whines and wails, moans and mewls, your voice coming back slowly before you'll lose it all over again. He's hammering into you now, making you both bounce on the bed, a feral rutting that is all too familiar to you. You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck, feeling the rough texture of his beard and the soft curls of his hair, and in your daze you see the wolf above you, his long snout, those sharp teeth, the long panting tongue, and you hear the low growls and snarls, the animalistic need to breed his mate, and it's that image that makes you come again, hard, uncontrollable twitches making your whole body convulse beneath him as you let out the loudest moan yet.

He slows then, labored breaths in your ear, hot against your skin, before you feel him shuddering as well, his big body trembling on top of yours, and his last thrust is particularly deep, a hard punch into your cervix that forces another explosion of pain and pleasure through you, and with a long groan he comes inside you, his cock throbbing, his balls drawn up tight between your folds, twitching with every spurt of hot cum he leaves deep inside of you.

You hold onto him, hands soothing over his broad back, as he fills you up, and because there's no knot to keep it in, his warm seed soon presses past your connection, seeping out of you in lazy globs that feel warm and soothing against your puckered hole. You slowly relax beneath him, coming down gently from all those highs, and his deep sigh vibrates through you as he does the same, putting his entire weight on you.

Your lips press against the top of his head, the scent of his hair, a mixture of pine and grass and earth, fills your nostrils. You close your eyes, a soft smile creeping onto your features as you feel his beard rubbing against your neck, a low hum escaping him in response. For a moment you just lie like this, both boneless and exhausted, his cock still giving the occasional twitch as another spurt of his seed pumps into you while your cunt clenches lazily around him, and you could fall asleep like that, overwhelmed by a strange kind of comfort you've never experienced before.

You could certainly get used to this...

Before you can drift off, he suddenly moves, his muscles working as he pulls his arms around you and rolls you both onto your sides. You already miss his weight on you, his enveloping warmth, but he quickly pulls you into him, pressed to his wide chest, and you nuzzle into his hoarse chest hair, inhaling deeply. He tilts his hips, and you feel his cock slipping free, followed by a surge of warm cum flowing out of your pulsing pussy.

He groans as he puts a hand between your legs and tries to hold it in, fingers eagerly pushing his seed back between your tight muscles, and before you know it, you are being rolled around until your back is to his groin, and he lifts your leg and replaces his fingers with his cock, still impressively hard as it slips back home, filling you out all over again. A soft moan escapes you as he drapes his large body around yours, holding you tightly against him, his beard rubbing against your cheek before you turn your head and meet his lips for a soft kiss.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice just a low thrum in the air.

“Yes,” you breathe against him, reaching out a hand to grab his face, pulling him even closer. “Never better...”

He smiles against your lips, deepening the kiss as he grinds his hips against your rear, though he doesn't move much, not intending to fuck you all over again, and he stops completely once his entire cock is fed deep into your cunt, just resting there, hot and heavy. His hand moves to your stomach, and yours joins soon after, fingers interlacing as you both feel the tightness of your belly and the slight bulge his cock and cum created. It's a pleasant fullness, a soft warmth both inside and out, a comfort you don't want to let go, ever.

Eventually you do slip away into unconsciousness, mid-kiss, with your lips brushing against his, before he wraps his arm tightly around you and nuzzles against your neck, your head lolling away as sleep grabs you tightly.

You wake up in almost the same position, with this large man wrapped around your smaller body, holding you tightly, his cock still very much buried inside you, but now he's sleeping, soft snores rumbling through him, deep inhales letting his toned chest rub against your back. You blink your eyes into focus and look around the room, bathed in bright sunlight that hurts your eyes, and you wonder how you got here, how a mysterious invitation to a (not at all) simple Halloween party brought you into the arms of a man who will turn into a monster as soon as the moon rises.

It still doesn't make sense, none of it, and maybe nothing of it happened after all? You did sleep with the man draped around you, that was real, but maybe that was it? The rest was just some alcohol-induced fever dream? Maybe. It would be easier to believe for sure, easier than whatever your mind tries to tell you may have happened. For now, you force the contradicting thoughts away and focus on the very real man snuggled up to you.

Lifting a hand, you rub it along his thick forearm, feeling those bulging veins under his tight skin and the hard muscles flexing slightly as you do so. A few seconds later, he stirs behind you, inhaling deeply.

“Awake already?” he rumbles into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your jaw.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you,” you whisper, lying as still as possible in his embrace.

“All good,” he replies with a groan as he grinds his hips into you.

Immediately you feel a burning pain crashing through you, your muscles tight around his cock, too tense to allow for much movement that doesn't hurt. He stops, his hand moving from your stomach down between your legs, fingertips brushing against your hooded clit, slowly waking up those resisting nerves.

You gasp softly, arching into him at the sensation. “Have I told you how wonderful you feel wrapped around my cock?” he breathes against you, sending shivers down your spine. “You do, such a perfect fit. Molded to me, haven't you?”

You hum in response, closing your eyes as you relax under his ministrations. Your muscles ease, allowing his cock to slide back and forth slightly, and before you know it, he's coaxing a gently building orgasm out of you that makes you keen in agonizing bliss as it crescendos into another one of those mind-blowing experiences that have you twitching uncontrollably. He quickens his thrusts, eager to follow you over the edge, and when he does, he grunts into your ear, holds you tightly against him, his hips jerking against your rear as he adds hot spurts of cum to your burning juices.

You sigh deeply when he stills, leaning into him, breathing hard from not doing much, and you realize you always want to wake up like this, in the arms of this man, fucked fully awake by his amazing cock. As soon as the post-orgasmic clarity settles in, you also realize that this will never become a reality. It can't. How should it? You barely know him, he's a werewolf, it was just a one-night-stand, he's a werewolf, you have to go back to the city soon.

Inhaling sharply, you stiffen in his hold, trying to ignore the soft kisses he plants on your neck and shoulder before he slowly moves back, detaches himself from you and your fluttering depths, and as soon as his cock slips free, a warm wave of cum seeps from between your thighs. You press them together, rolling up into the sheets when his warm body is gone. He stands from the bed, stretching, then walks wordlessly into the bathroom.

Maybe it's better this way. You shouldn't get too attached. He lives in a cabin in the woods, might be connected to the mysterious house you were invited to last night, and when you remember the drive here correctly, it did take you quite a while to get here. You can't do a long-distance relationship, it'll eat you up, you just know it. And he can't come visit you either, what if he turns into a monster and ravages half the city block?

Though he did seem to have his urges under control (more or less anyway) when you first encountered him, but still, the city is no place for a werewolf.

And what if this is just a fling for him anyway? What if you are the only one stressing about what happens next? But he did say he wanted to make you his, his mate, for nobody else to touch, wait, yes, he promised you he'd do that tonight, but... what if that was just some lust-induced dirty talk? It would mean you'd have to stay the whole day, wait for the moon to rise, and you can't do that.

You have a job to go back to, a boring life that waits to be continued. This party was already a big step out of your comfort zone, you can't just throw your life away for a hot guy, can you?

Groaning in frustration, you grab the pillow and bury your burning face in it, hoping to smother the thought carousel before it gets out of hand. Seriously. Since when are you such an overthinker?

A sudden noise makes you stiffen. He's back from the bathroom. But you can't look at him. You should leave. End it before it gets complicated.

“Do you want to shower next? It's still nice and toasty in there,” you hear his low voice, muffled through the pillow.

You grunt a reply, and without acknowledging his towering form in the room, you slip off the bed and into the bathroom. The shower, however steamy it is, clears your head, and when you reemerge, dried off with the provided towels, you wrap one around your body and slowly step back into the bedroom, bracing yourself for what may come next.

You find the man whose name you never learned sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in another plaid shirt and dirty jeans, and he's holding a stack of clothes, your blouse and skirt as you recognize, and the red cloak he was so fond of last night. You walk up to him and take the items, biting your lip as you nod at him. He watches you as you re-enter the bathroom to get dressed, which seems silly considering he's seen every inch of your body multiple times by now.

By the time you're dressed and ready to leave this all behind, your stomach is tense. “I...” you start as you meet him back in the bedroom, wringing your hands nervously.

He tilts his head, deep creases on his forehead. “Are you hungry?” he asks then, ripping you out of your dark thoughts.

You blink slowly, parting your lips only to press them together again. Then you just nod. He smiles at you, his whole face lighting up, the frown disappears while other creases appear in the corners of his eyes, dimples on his cheeks, almost hidden by his thick beard. He stands up and reaches for you, and you don't even hesitate when you put your small hand onto his large palm.

He leads you towards a small kitchen that opens into a cozy looking living room with a big couch and a fireplace. As you sit down on one of the bar stools lining the island, he rounds the counter and starts preparing breakfast. You focus on him, trying to ignore the ongoing debate in your head. In the end you and your overbearing mind come to the conclusion that you'll just enjoy the moments you still have with him, before you have to leave.

“Hey, um, you never told me your name,” you say a little shyly as you watch him crack some eggs into a sizzling pan.

“It's Bear,” he tells you, turning his head to meet your curious gaze. His dark eyes gleam in the sunlight flooding through the large window of the living room. They glow like amber.

“Bear?” you repeat, frowning with a smirk. “But... you're a werewolf. That's kinda ironic.”

He chuckles deeply. “Maybe, yeah. But you know, I wasn't born a werewolf, I was born a shapeshifter.”

Your eyebrows rise at that. “What?”

“I can shift into various animals. Usually a big black bear, sometimes a large wolf too. Or a fox if I feel playful.” His voice is so even, natural, he's either a great story teller and liar or... no, this can't be true.

“You're kidding me,” you whisper, leaning onto your elbow.

He winks at you. “Nope, I am a shapeshifter. It runs in my family.” He moves the pan over the burner for a moment before he pulls it off and turns fully to you. “You accepted that I am a werewolf, but this is baffling you?” he asks with a smirk. “These grounds have always been in the care of my ancestors, for a very long time. I'm just the latest groundskeeper.”

“So you belong to the house?” you ask quietly, trying to make sense of what he's told you.

“In a way. The house has a strange history, to be honest,” he says, inhaling deeply as he stops the meal prepping and crosses his strong arms in front of his chest. Leaning against the counter, he watches you, and you frown, urging him to continue. “Well, you see, it shouldn't be here,” he goes on ominously.

“What do you mean?”

“It was built on land that shouldn't be built on,” he clarifies. “I don't want to go into too much detail, but, well, people back in the day didn't care about traditions or customs, or warnings. They just did what they wanted, took what they desired. So the house was built, and my family was asked to leave the grounds. Of course that couldn't happen. Somehow we made the compromise that we could stay and care for the grounds and the forest, and they let us. But it wasn't a fair exchange, as were most things back then...”

You listen with growing interest, your eyes wandering over his tan skin and the deep sorrow in his eyes. He keeps talking, his voice low and almost melancholy.

“Some of us didn't like it, and... well, things got out of hand. There was a shaman who lived deep in the forest, and she didn't accept neither the new house nor our willingness to work for those people, so she threw around some curses...”

“Curses?” you echo, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Yes, ancient magic made worse by strong emotions. Some say the shaman was fueled by the injustice of the situation, others think she may have had an affair with the house owner, or... well, maybe something else happened, something darker, nobody really knows. But her magic was so strong it is still up today.”

You stare at him, both fascinated and deeply unsettled by his story.

“For one, she cursed us groundskeepers with Lycanthropy, which, us being shapeshifters, shouldn't have been such a bad deal, but you see, I can control turning into animals, I cannot control turning into a werewolf under the full moon. It took me a long time to control myself while transformed as well. The creature you met yesterday was just a shadow of the monster I used to be.”

Your eyes widen, before you blink and frown. He takes a step closer, towering over you as if to trigger your fight or flight instinct. But you're eerily calm when you watch him. “I'm not afraid of you,” you whisper, reaching out a hand towards him. He smiles softly, a sad twinkle in his eyes as he puts his long fingers around yours, squeezing them gently.

“You're special, Little Red,” he whispers, eyeing you closely. “And probably the first to even find your way onto my grounds.” He sighs loudly when your frown deepens. “You see, the shaman also cursed the house. I can't even really explain it, just... well, it slips in and out of existence. It's always there, but it cannot be perceived all the time.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. That explains why you couldn't remember ever seeing it before. You nod to his words, and he continues.

“Sometimes, on special occasions, it reaches out into the world, trying to lure in lost souls. You came here for a party, right?” You nod again. “You see, the inhabitants of the house, staff included, they cannot leave. So they invite random people hoping that some will stay and join them. Nobody usually does. Most come here to party, enjoy a special night they will forget as soon as they step foot over the threshold.”

He tilts his head, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand as he stares down.

“Can you remember what happened in the house?” he asks, slowly looking up.

Your mind buzzes. “Faintly. I mean, hmm,” you make, pulling your eyebrows together as you try to think back to the party. There was a party, right? A Halloween party, yeah, colorful lights through the windows, the low thrum of the bass of the music. You see the invitation in your mind's eye, you assume there have been a lot of people in costumes, food and drinks, but... the more you try to think about details the less feedback you get. It's all fuzzy.

Well, not all of it. It's blurry but you see a mask looming over you, a stranger's voice in your ear, a cold knife against your skin. And after that (or before? You can't be sure) there's the sound of rushing water, then... nothing, just a thrum in your head, deafening silence almost. And it wasn't nothing, there was something, very invasive, you can almost feel it, all over your skin, and more than that... deep inside you. A shiver crashes through your body as you force away the strange sensation.

You look up at the tall man in front of you. “You can't, hm?” he growls quietly, and you nod, deciding it would be best not to share those particular memories with him. “You weren't meant to stay then. Lucky me,” he adds, his serious face morphing into a smile. You blush deeply at how intense his dark eyes look at you. “Instead you ran right into my arms.”

You look away with a shy chuckle. “Well, I did run away from you as well,” you whisper.

“You didn't know better,” he says, letting go of your hand to walk around the island until he's standing behind you, his large hands heavy on your shoulders. You turn your head slightly, trying to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He leans closer, rubs his beard against your cheek. “But you learned your lesson, didn't you?”

Somehow his words sound both enticing and flirting, but also a little threatening and menacing. You shiver. “I...”

“You won't run away from me again, right?” he whispers, his low voice just a thrum in the air, a vibration through your head. “I told you you are mine now. I won't let you go.”

You swallow, stiffening slightly. “But...”

“You were called here,” he continues, ignoring your feeble attempts of protesting. “The house invited you, beckoned you, but it couldn't hold you, you left, stepped into the maze, found me...” He inhales deeply, leaning his chin on your shoulder. “You found what you were looking for.”

You blink in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Like I said, the house calls upon the lost souls, those who wander through life. Some answer, either to find what they are looking for or to never leave again. Think, little one, were you a lost soul, trapped in a boring life with no way out? I believe you were, but no longer, hm?”

Slowly you break your stupor and turn around on the stool, fully facing him. He leans back a little, watching you closely. His words confuse you, but they poke into the dark corners of your mind, at the things you've hidden away. Your desires that could never come true. Like this. With him, this can't come true, right?

How can you throw away your old life because of some ancient hocus-pocus beckoning you to a place where you will find... what? All the answers? True love? Your soulmate or something? Or just a guy who can give you some much-needed cuddles and mind-blowing sex? Is that it? You never believed in the supernatural or paranormal. All this talk about curses and lost souls and werewolves – Hang on. You blink slowly.

You'd be pretty ignorant to disregard all the things that have happened. You saw his werewolf form, you know it intimately. And you were abducted by vampires, ravaged and bitten. They exist. And this man in front of you exists. Sure, you never saw him transform, but you believe him. He feels real and genuine.

And the way he looks right into your soul, picks up on those urges you keep fighting. You already told yourself that you want this, wake up in his arms, be with him, experience that knot again. It is all strange and unnatural, but then again... Maybe you were looking for something like this. You'd have never thought you'd end up with an actual shapeshifter, a werewolf, but does it matter in the end?

He is still a man, a big strong man with the right hardware, and as you feel the warmth creeping into your cheeks, scolding yourself for thinking such primal thoughts, you bite your lip, your eyes wandering over his hairy face. Slowly, you raise your hands and brush your fingertips against his beard, tracing the edges. He watches you, a twinkle in his brown eyes.

“I don't have a choice, right? Fate decided for me,” you say quietly. A deep dimple forms beneath your hand as he smiles at you.

“Indeed it did, little one,” he replies gravelly. “And no one should challenge fate.”

“Hmm,” you hum, cupping his face as you pull yourself closer to him. Before you can, however, meet his lips like you intended, you pause, a thought crashing through your head. “Hey, uh, you said you'd make me your mate. Does that mean I'll become a werewolf too?”

He blinks slowly before he barks a deep laugh. “Your mind works in fascinating ways, Red,” he muses, but then sighs and leans back, slipping from your hold. “No, you won't become like me. It's part of the curse. I'm destined to stay alone.”

“Wait, but I thought... we...”

His arms wrap around your shoulders and lift you up easily as he presses you to his wide chest. “Alone with my cursed fate, but I feel this doesn't count. You came to me, we found each other in the maze. It was your destiny that we met. You may just be the first to fight the pull of the house, it's a sign. And I'd be stupid to let you go ever again...”

You snake your hands under the strong grip of his literal bear hug, gripping at the back of his shirt. “I won't leave,” you mumble into his chest. “I want to stay... with you...”

He leans you back and grips your upper arms, looking down at you with warm eyes. “Good, I'm glad. I was already worried where I'd put your cage.”

You frown before you see his wink and blush deeply, giggling softly as you slap your hand against his chest in mock indignation. “Leave the kinky stuff for when we know each other a bit better?” you tease with a smirk.

He laughs, a deep rumble in the air, and pulls you into another hug. You wrap your arms around his waist and inhale deeply, sinking into his strength and all-consuming warmth.

You came here for a night of partying, drinking, eating, meeting people. To let loose. Have a little adventure. In the end you found so much more.

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

End notes: Thank you for joining me on this ride! I really appreciate the support! I'm happy you liked my little experiment!

It started as a means to get as many monster encounters as possible into one story, but it ended with actual plot, who would've thunk! And the best part, if you enjoyed it, there will be more!

I will expand on the story of Bear and Reader, giving them their own adventure, AND, because I initially intended to wrap this up differently, I will add some bonus chapters to tie up any loose ends of this story, hopefully.

The first bonus chapter THE HOUSE is out now!

A little research side note and disclaimer: I know this is just a silly little fantasy smut story, but I still tend to research quite a bit for my writing. I mentioned above that a shaman cursed Bear and the house, and I just want to make clear that, while I hint at certain dynamics and historical "facts" (really vaguely implying that Bear and his family are from an indigenous tribe and the house owners are some colonizers/settlers taking over their lands), I do not mean any offense by using this word or any other implications made. I looked for a better term, but couldn't find any in the time I had to edit this. In the end, I am just a smut writer and a European at that. I know I only grazed this topic and was mostly only inspired by it, but I am still sorry if I offended anyone with what I wrote or implied!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[13tinysocks]

My Dead Girlfriend

Angstrom Levy plays his hand. You fuck it up. [Invincible Variants x reader]

[Part one]  [Ao3] [5] [7] [Chapter Index]

6 * Bad Dog [5.5k]

"Since all those lost years when I thought I was the monster,

It turns out I was really the prey

Masturbating and waiting for the raid,

And hating every little thing about you all the way!"

The Ruminant - Go Hang

        The acrid breeze makes his blue curtain of a mask flutter. "Give us our shit." You almost don't think it's Mark talking, his voice is so different, so stereotypically New York native.

        The man standing on solid air ignores him. Good eye sliding from one Mark to another. "You're down one."

        "We're down a lot more than that, numbnuts." Mohawk throws his arms out. Gesturing to the empty space where other Marks could have been, but weren't. 

        "To be expected. This reality is much more resilient than most." At that, the men surrounding him bristle.

        "You meant for us to die." Baldie accuses, crossed arms tensing with the need for violence. "You were never going to deliver."

        The man, Angstrom, though you don't quite know it yet, laughs. Holding a scarred finger out to point at you. "I have though, haven't I? More than half of you wished to see this one again."

        You are slack in the arms of your savior. Conscious but head spinning with the sudden change of atmosphere. It was a good thing none of them could see your face behind the mask, see that you were awake and biding your time. 

        But he knows you're awake. The one holding you, the warrior raised on Viltrum from birth. He feels your pulse pick up under his hands, hears the skip of your heart, the faint smell of fear induced sweat under your armor. The others aren't close enough to sense it, you hide your feelings well, play dead good as a possum, but he knows. And he tells nobody.

        "You've all had a turn, so I think my end has been delivered." He finishes.

        The one with a bare face looks at Angstrom, confused. "I have no idea who that is. Where's William?"

        "Yeah." Backs up the long masked one. "Like I'd even give a fuck about some... whatever." he waves his hand, uncaring to find a word for some insignificant bug.

        Despite the backlash, Angstrom smiles pleasantly. "I'm aware in your realities, you didn't know or care for (Y/n) (L/n). That is perfectly acceptable. Don't think I've forgotten about the deals we've all made. But to fulfill them, I'll need you to find this dimensions Mark Grayson and bring him to me."

        Eyes twitch. Lips curl.

        "No," Scars finally says. He looks to you in the arms of that straight-laced Viltrumites arms and barely contains a smirk. He's going to enjoy ripping you out of them. Tearing his arms off for touching you. "I've got what I want. I'm done with this place."

        "You are aware I could leave you here or somewhere worse, correct?" Angstrom doesn't sound the least bit concerned regarding the mounting tension. The cracking knuckles. The nasty grinning-snarls, thirsty for a little more blood. 

        "You won't." Lensless hums, "We'll kill ya before you get the chance."

         "Then we'd actually be stuck here forever, dumbass." Mohawk barks. "We'll just torture him instead, duh." 

        Angstrom rose a brow. "There's only one of her left in all existence, remember that before you threaten me."

        You are consumed by crackling green light that seems to statically stick to your armor. You are falling, then not, draped over Angstrom's arm like a coat. Still trying to play knocked out. "I have the perfect reality ready for her if any of you move." He says before you're settled. "Pit of man-eating octomen I've been starving for months, waiting right here." A ring of power encircles your body, not touching you but threatening with its presence. "Move and she's there."

        "I don't care, man." Long Mask says. 

        Angstrom ignores him. "Get me Mark Grayson."

        "You've got ten of him right here," Emperor says. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll drop it."

        Angstrom laughs, nastily. So hard he shakes you in his grip. "Am I dog now, Mister Grayson?"

        "You're no better than one," Emperor replies.

        "Look at you all- looking at me like you want me to die. After everything I've given you." Spit flies off Angstrom's lips, landing on your visor. "I met so many of you with snot dribbling out your noses over this thing," he jostles you in his grip as you grit your teeth, "this worthless animal who in so many dimensions joins your conquest. Just some regular human who adds absolutely nothing to nearly every timeline. I don't get the appeal, but I don't have to. Do as I say or she dies."

        You observe the Marks. Ready to pounce. To throw caution to the wind. Some are hesitant, actually using their brains but enough of are ready to fucking shred you think you might get eaten by whatever an octoman is.

        It leaves you with no other choice. It was just a bonus it'd get him to shut up. You were dead tired of hearing this guy's voice. Hearing any guy's voice.

        You let out a weak, groggy groan. Catch Angstrom's attention, which is all you need. Watch the grin spread across his busted face. "Look who's awak-"

        "Bite off your tongue." Blood comes out of your nose in such a rush it splattered against the inside of your helmet. Power ripped from you all at once, used on this guy you didn't know, but definitely didn't trust. 

        Drip, drop atop your helmet. Then came the rivers of blood down his chin. Weaving through his beard. Tongue stuck all the way out his mouth, teeth grinding down, down, down. Sawing, squelching. He blinks, tongue half removed from his mouth, when your hold snaps. A scream that was more a gargle, splatters more blood across your visitor. You're thrown, ass over heel.

        His words are thick with pain and a brand-new lisp as he says, "Bad dog!"

        The sickly green light surrounds you as a portal opens up behind your back, snapping shut before the closest version of your ex could reach you. The last thing you saw was him smiling with blood bubbling over his lips. 

        Your landing was surprisingly soft. Skidding to a slow stop on silky tan sand. Scrambling to your knees to see where the portal was. Gone. No green, just a cloudless, hazy sky. Sun fat in the sky. Beating down harsh on the black metal of your armor. Around you there is nothing but more sand and ruins of a society long forgotten. 

        You don't know what happened. Don't know how to process what happened. Calling out to the nothingness, "Bring me back!" To no reply or help at all.

        ***

        "You-!"

        Biting off your own tongue was something the deeply deranged and suicidal did. Despite that criteria, Angstrom Levy had never wanted to do such a thing, but there you'd been- making him do it. 

         He was in acute shock. Slow. Unable to dodge the hands grabbing him, the fists beating him, not with his tongue dangling half-cut out his mouth. Threats came pouring in quick as they were delivered. Ribs broken. Ligaments torn, good eye gone red with burst blood vessels. 

        It'd lasted thirty seconds, maybe less, but a voice cut through the violent haze. "We can't get her back if he's dead." Said the boy who killed his father and wore his cloak. God, if Freud were still around. 

        The words didn't calm them, but soothed the blows like a balm. Mohawk had him by the collar, choking him with it. "Open the portal, cocksucker."

        Angstrom rose a hand, the only one he had left after that Viltrumite loyalist chopped the other off. He let it open slow, teasingly so. Power roiling under his skin, revenge on the mind. They'd thought they'd had him down and out, but he was nowhere near dead. He never planned to keep them along for the full ride. The plan was always to betray them. This was much sooner, and much bloodier, than planned. So be it. 

        "There." He heaved. They turned, looking into the opening to a new world. A world so dry it'd evaporate the marrow out of your bones. 

        Phantom didn't speak. Just shot his black and blue body through. One down, nine to go. 

        "That world," he begins, tongue awkwardly flailing over the bottom of his mouth, blood spilling down his throat just to be hacked out, "-that world has major time dilation. She could be very far from the origin point by now. Miles. It'll take him too long to find her... I can't-" He let the portal waiver, looking unstable, "I can't hold it long."

        "You can and you will." The ex-prisoner grabbed him by the balls. Through Angstrom's pants but still. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. 

        If guilt tripping wouldn't work, he had no other choice. "Wait... I can.. I think I've found her." More portals zap open all around him. Nine in total. "Do you see?" They turn, just to watch the portals shoot closer, swallowing them all whole before snapping shut. Leaving them to fall in the sand and Angstrom alone to his devices. 

        ***

        You'd tried it all. Screaming. Looking for an exit. Digging. Trying to call someone, anyone on your phone that had not a bar. All while the sun beat at your back. You didn't give up, not really, just resigned to moving somewhere else. Powers, you knew, were stupid. Angstrom could find you again even if you'd left the dropoff.

        You walked. Migraine gnawing at your temples. Power stores drained out. Boots dragged in the sand, prints sifting away as soon as they were made. Moved from wreck to wreck for the tiniest slivers of shade. Baked inside your helmet until you popped it off, wiping at the drying blood with your gloves. When there was a breeze, it felt like a hairdryer, making your eyes water.

       Two hours, you'd walked to find nothing.

       The sun moved slow, the sky fading to a dull purple, but you knew the second it dipped below the dunes, you'd be dead without a fire. Deserts don't stay hot without sun. Planks were easy come by, old wood waiting to disintegrate into the sand. You rooted through the tool belt attached to the body armor. Tear gas, a high-powered taser, a flare, a knife, ammo for a gun you didn't have, and a to-go first aid kit. 

        You tried the taser on the wood. It made the old thing crumble in your hands. You tried again to the same result. Again and again as the sun crossed the sky and the heat began to ebb. 

        ***

        He flew through the desert, combing it in a gird. Square mile by square mile, searching. Growing more desperate by the second. Head filling with what if's. 

        It's faint, a mere vibration in his left ear. He banks hard. Following. Forcing his hearing to it's limit- catching grains shifting below his flight path. Then it comes again. Audible this time. Bzzt. Lil more to the left. Bzzzzt! Not long now. He starts to slow right as the sound pinged from below. BZZZT!

        "Fuck you, motherfucker." Came out from a line of beams fallen together to make a concrete tent.

        He landed gently, trying not to make a dust cloud and scare you away. Watching your back as you tried to light a plank ablaze with a taser. It crumbled in your hands. You scoff, kicking debris into a cloud that makes you violently cough. 

        You could turn and see him. Husky purple dusk not yet camouflaging his blue-black body suit. But you don't. Instead, you keep trying to tase the remaining sawdust into flames. It doesn't work. 

        He floats above the sand, slowly rolling into your view. 

        ***

        Chaos. Total, absolute, chaos.

        Nine of them in the middle of some desert planet, tenth fucked off God knows where. No Angstrom to take them out. No (Y/n) to soften the blow. The rage settled in like a beat behind their eyes, a thrum under their fingerpads. They wanted to choke each other for existing. 

        Their personal genie had betrayed them, left them for dead. 

        He wasn't the first to blast off into the desert. Searching for a way out, for you. He was, however, first to shoot into the sky for a birdseye view. The atmosphere thinned, going from an ugly yellow to the familiar dark of space. Above the sphere, he hovered, seeing only sand. Around the planet he went, hoping, then finding those hopes were something juvenile. 

        The search extended into space. For other planets. He noticed then, flying through the cold dark there were no stars or gas giants or distant worlds. Only the planet they landed on and the too-close sun. 

        As if Angstrom Levy had found the one reality in all of existence with one dead world. One big, sandy, uninhabitable world. The perfect place for them all to die. The search could be expanded later, with more of them looking, but he doubted even their Viltrumite bodies could reach any planets if he couldn't see them. 

        He was angry, but couldn't fault the guy. He was going to rip off Angstrom's balls after all. He'd find a way out of this, the same way he'd found a way out of that hell of a Viltrumite prison. Scarred beyond recognition. Coming home to find the love of his life dead and long buried. 

        Except that now you were down on that sandball, somewhere. Hopefully alive. So why was he angsting up in space? 

        ***

        The taser shot out, connecting thick prongs to his suit. Electricity traveled fast through the carbon fiber, penetrating to his skin. He didn't seize and drop. He took it like he was nothing but thin air, like you were imagining him in a wave of heat induced hysteria.

        The prongs retracted and he took that as cue to step down into your concrete hut. Coming closer, slow, hands up over his chest like he wasn't going to hurt you- as if you'd believe that.

        You hear it. Something moving so fast the air splits around you. 

        You don't know what you're going to do. Shout? Duck? Gasp? You don't get to decide because he's on you. Holding you hard against himself, feet inches off the ground, hand pressed firm over your mouth. Head tracking the sonic spec in the sky as it passed over. When the coast is clear, he sets you down and backs off. Not leaving your nothing of a camp, but any space willing given by these freaks was noticeable. 

        "Leave." Power doesn't even bother to tickle your throat. You had jackshit left. Wouldn’t have jackshit for days if your luck stayed bad. You'd only blown yourself out like this one time- that day at the beginning of the end of your life. You'd never used your power on someone else powered before. Barley used it period. Only on little, meaningless, petty things. Until you used it all at once to save his life. Then on him. Blowing out you out like a tire. Failing. 

        Now you were here. Staring at a fully masked version of him, unable to control him or your life again. 

        Yet you try, "Go." The taser finds its home in your belt, replaced by the tear gas canister held over your head. "Or I'll set this fucking bomb off if you get any closer." It's a lie so obvious you couldn’t put your chest behind it. "I'll kill us both, I swear to God."        

         He doesn’t move. Your helmet sits on the ground at your feet. You wonder how fast you could set the tear gas off and put the thing back on. If the GDA-enhanced tear gas would make you go blind.

        As you fingered the pin, he pulled something from his belt. A short, metal pin. He approaches the pile of wood you’d made. You back up, knowing he'd catch you if you ran. Knowing you didn't have energy for any more running. He cracks the metal against a shred of concrete. Sparks rained down on the dry material and then there was fire. Small but as he stepped back, blaze growing. 

        Technically, you knew what he was doing. Starting a fire so you wouldn’t freeze to death, the breeze as the sun went down already cool. But mentally? You had no idea what he wanted. You knew that he was one of the ones that asked for you, that knew some version of you and decided thousands dead was worth it. Even though he was the first to your side on multiple occasions, you couldn’t know what he wanted. If he wanted something in exchange.

        The sky had gone a deep gray. Cold settling in between the sand dunes like an old bone's ache. You could leave, but the growing fire was your one and only shot of living. Just a guess, but the taser thing wasn’t going to work. 

        "What do you want?" You asked, shuffling closer. Still gripping the tear gas hard, reared over your shoulder like a weapon. "Tell me or I'll set it off."

        "I'm not going to hurt you." Through that demon of a modulator, you catch a softness, Mark whispering a secret he hadn’t told anyone else. More genuine than you’d heard from any of these alternates. 

        "How do I know you're not lying?" But there is no reply, and you don’t think he is. He's done talking and you're done fighting. 

        He sits first. On the edge of an uneven slab, leaving plenty of room for you. You watch him carefully. Sure he's going to lunge, a lurking predator luring you into a false sense of safety. So you lean against the wall instead, watching him and the fire. 

        He does lunge eventually, ten minutes later. Dashing forth to stomp out the fire as another body streaks across the sky. Tense as you both watched it go by. Waiting until there’s nothing but the night. Then he was back on his knees, cracking the stick onto new planks.

        "What is that?" You're still standing. Arm lifting the canister overhead once again.

        He looks up from the fire at you. Black going brown in the light. Tentatively, tortuously, and against every nerve in your body, you sit. Slip the tear gas canister back into your belt. Hoping he'd talk if you seemed a little less hostile. 

       "Tell me where I am. Who the fuck was that?" 

      You’re not shocked when he says nothing, only annoyed by your acceptance of it. He can’t bring himself to ruin this moment with you, finally alone. Hearing your voice, even angry, was like an angel’s song for the damned. Your face like something out a dream. Any nervous tics, little movements, shifts in your weight, was studied and tucked away to categorize and compare to what he knew. 

        You at seventeen, nervous and shy and sweet. Could you have become this bitter thing had you lived? Surely not. He'd have made sure you were taken care of. Made you into a wife with nothing to fret over. He hates him. The Mark of your dimension. Wants to turn him inside out for letting whatever happened to you- happen.

        You watched him right back with no knowledge of what his gaze meant. None of the same interest, but watching for the same things, instincts of being prey. Wondering when the slowly stalking fox was going to pounce, if the gaze was a challenge. In the thickening night, he was starting to blend in. You could still see his outline and the dark lenses reflecting back your stare. You try to look past them but can't, can't read anything from the blank, dark slate. You look away, wanting a momentary reprieve, backing down from the challenge. Movement. Your gaze right back, tense all over. Hand on the taser holster.

       The mask is off. Chin up, he is bare. There is stubble dark on his jaw, skin paler than you recalled Mark ever being, his hair a shaggy mess that hung past his ears, eye bags deep, nearly purple. He was Mark, no surprise there, the surprise was the slate blue of his eyes. Just like his father's. 

        You pull the taser out, but not wanting to escalate further, voice almost a whisper after you’d grown used to the quiet. "What do you want?" He looks up at you under dark brows and long lashes. It reminds you so much of your Mark you want to strike him, but think better of it. "Answer me." 

        It comes out breathy, hardly audible. "I just-" Two syllables and his voice breaks. Cracks right down the middle. He shuts his mouth, hand going to his throat, thumb massaging. He swallows, tries again but all that comes out is a hoarse sigh. His brows knit in frustration. He’d talked more than he was used to in the past few days, and with the dry air and nerves, what was left of his vocal cords wasn’t going to cooperate. 

        You don’t know what’s wrong with him, but now you understand why he wore that modulator.

        The mask goes back on. He's given up trying to talk, trying to show his belly like he wasn't a threat. You suspect violence, harassment, almost get up anticipating it, but it doesn't come. You're about to settle down when the ground shudders just outside your camp. You don't get the chance to check what it was because it steps inside between the concrete pillars.

        "We've been working together to find a way out of this shithole and here you two've been, love shackin' it up." His mask flutters in front of his face as he talks. Sand stuck to his tracksuit where blood had wet it. "Jesus, yer lucky I found you. Those other dudes have been losing they's fuckin' minds."

        Phantom rises, dashing the small fire away. He'd know his alone time with you would be short. They'd find you both eventually, but he was glad to have had it. Even if you looked at him with such disdain. For so many years, that's all he wanted. His voice failing him was punishment for letting you die, for letting this version of you get stuck in an unending desert. He'd make it up to you. Find a voice to say what needed to be said.

        He steps towards the other. Long mask, long face, you don't quite know what to mentally call him yet- steps back. Making room for Phantom to exit the ruin. 

        "I'm not leaving." You tell the newcomer, though you grab the helmet. To throw at him? To cover your head from the cold now that the fire couldn't ward it off? 

        "You dunno if I've found a way out or not and yer just gonna act like that?" His laugh is humorless, "Glad we weren’t a thing in my world."

        Behind him, Phantom jerks his head, a 'come' gesture. Wind, not a breeze, cuts through the dunes and sends winter cold through the cracks in your armor. Settles under the fabric, making you shiver. 

        "Do you have a way out?" You demand.

        "Would'a left your ass behind if I did." He says, stepping further back. Annoyed but understanding you wouldn’t come within a certain distance; despite how fast he could liberate your head from your shoulders. "Come on," he lifts inches off the ground, "the longer you're gone the edgier those shitheads get. I can't take it anymore." 

        You really, really, really did not want to see any of them. You look back to your concrete shack. But. Survival is easier in groups, right? You know what else is easier in groups? Mass murder. The second you got your powers back, you were taking them out like you'd set out to do. Sure, you'd probably only kill one or two more of them but it'd be enough to kill Mark Grayson four times before you went to hell. Only then did eternity of torture sound bearable.

        You also couldn't make a fire, it was freezing, you had no food and you'd be starving soon, and you had nothing to drink but codeine, which was a bad idea. 

       Phantom waited for you on the ground. Tracksuit, ah there's that convenient nickname, hovered low in the sky waiting. "Let's go already." You can't fly and something tells you Tracksuit isn't willing to walk however many miles it is back to camp. 

        Phantom taps his masked cheek. At first you're disgusted, thinking he wants you to lay one on him but realize, he's telling you to put the helmet on. You'd seen those old stories of superhuman and regular-Joe-human romances going bad because their lover flew too fast and all the human's skin was flayed off. You didn't want to go to the others, but you really didn't want to go without skin.

        You put the helmet on and he moves towards you. Slower than the first time he scooped you up and took you to the sky. He definitely felt bad about dropping you. Elbows move under knees, strong hand supporting your back. Lifting off gently this time. Accelerating slowly enough for Tracksuit to scoff and shout, "Dude, move it!"

        You'd never been flying like this. Before, it was too quick to process, too much adrenaline. Now you were burnt out and empty enough to actually process the passing dunes. To feel your body relying on his for support. You would have liked it, really, if it wasn't one of the crazy Marks- which was pretty much all of them. Horrified at any time he'd drop you or dangle you by an ankle until you cried, "Uncle." He hadn't seemed the type, but he also ripped off Psychopomp's arms the second time you met him. He wasn't as forward as the others, which made him less predictable. 

        The whole flight you were scared shitless, because the second it was over, things were only going to get worse. The bright side was, things were always awful before they got better. Thinking about killing Mark calmed you down a fraction.        

        Even in the distance, you could see the camp. No mountains to hide its orange glow. The only thing of note for miles upon miles. 

        Tracksuit sighed with relief, "Thank God." He shot forward, gone, leaving you and Phantom to meander along. You'd noticed he'd significantly slowed. Sucking up all the remaining alone time with you he could get. Hovering hundreds of feet over a massive bonfire. Figures below, waiting with baited breath. 

        Phantom contemplates the success rate of leaving. Running with you. Surviving alone together. His black boots touch down on the sand. He sets you down, keeping a hand at your back as you wobble to your feet. Unaccustomed to flying. Human heart fluttering in your chest.

        You get no peace or relief. 

        Just Mohawk flying forward and almost knocking you over "Dickhead," he hissed before his fist sent Phantom careening into the desert night. Phantom catches himself, but stays further back, hidden in the dark. It was chilly but this planet was nothing compared to the vacuum of space. To what his life had been before seeing you again. The fire, here and there, were for you. Warmth and signal. He would keep watch from the shadows. 

        The perpetrator turns to you, sand stuck in his mohawk. "You good?"

        You don't meet his eye. Opting to stumble closer to the bonfire, trying to avoid eye contact with the Marks standing around.

        "I thought you'd need it," Omni-Wannabe says. 

        "Where are we?" You stare into it. Hoping they don't notice the answers aren't forced out of them. That they don't piece together the only reason you're not going batshit is because you're powerless.

        "A desert," Lensless kicks at the sand, "Duh."

        "What desert?" It's hard to keep the venom out of your voice. 

        Emperor stretches his legs over a rock. Leaning back in his low earthy chair, looking like he meant to be stranded. "You tell me. You're the one who got us trapped here."

        You don't bite the bait. You can't fight back, so opening your big mouth is the last thing you should do. But he's looking at you like he wants to chop you to pieces. You go for fawning but not too out of character. "Wasn't expecting anyone to end up here with me."

        Under the yellow fabric, his brow twitches. "After all the chasing and defending, you didn't expect backup?"

        "I didn't ask for backup." You say, "I have no idea what's going on. One second I'm working, the next this guy," your arm gestures to Mohawk who grins, "is beating the shit out of my boss."

        Emperor's muscles tighten. You'd said the wrong thing. Towed the line too willy-nilly. He says, "You really must be dumber in this world if you haven't figured it out yet. Don't speak to me until you do." And goes back to watching the fire.

        Crisis averted.

        Somebody thinks it's a good idea to rest their fat, meaty hand on your shoulder and say, "Are you okay?"

        When you turn it's the bald one. Wearing an expression you think is concern.

        You can't help moving away and snapping, "Get off." 

        "D'aww, somebody mad their geriatric handler didn't pick them up?" Scars is right behind you. Not close enough to touch, but too close for comfort. He could push you into the fire and you'd be roast dinner. "Not expecting to deal with the consequences of your actions, were you?"

        This time, for real, you hold your tongue. Stuck straight to the roof of your mouth. You are not fucking with this guy.

        He touches you the same place Baldie did. You're scared to shove him off. Baldie was a mistake, one that could've gotten you killed. Scars would be a mistake that would get you killed. 

        "Hey, look, she's afraid of me!" He announced like it was an honor. "That's a smart girl, but where's that fighting spirit? Come on, I wanna see you try n' hurt me again."

        You don't reply. Don't move. Don't breathe. 

        "Your heart just skipped a beat, there, Dregs. Don't tell me you're gonna avoid me by killing yourself again." His fingers tighten on your shoulder. Nearly bruising. "I won't let it happen again." He's masking his anger being here with nine of himself by playing with you. Relieving stress. 

        "You're wasting your energy antagonizing her." The grip lightens immediately, someone else to play with. Scars' violent attention turned toward the bare baby-faced version of himself. 

        "You telling me what to do?" Tension cracked off his split lip.        

        "No." The other says evenly, "But we're stuck in an alien desert. Now's not the time to pull some master-slave dynamic bullshit on some girl you don't even know. Be smart."

        Scars slipped around you, prowling toward the sat man. "And how do you suggest I 'be smart'." 

        He started counting off on his fingers, "Get more firewood if you don't want her to freeze to death. Search ruins for something that could get us out. Look for food. Rest, conserve energy, because we don't know how long we'll be stuck here. My guess is until we get ourselves out because there's no way Angstrom is coming back for us."

        "He will," Lensless says with unwarranted confidence. "He has to know we'll find him and kill 'im. It's dumber to let us be mad n' stuff."        

        Maskless shakes his head. "He chose this planet because he expects us to die. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not fighting you guys over some human I don't know. If you're smart, you'll do the same." He slides off the rock and lies himself sideways in the sand. Head propped on his elbow like a pillow. "At least shut up or go to sleep so you can kill echother quicker tomorrow."

        Scars took two steps toward him before an arm jutted out, stopping him. Omni-Mark stood between the two like a wall. "He's right. We should sleep while it's cool. Search more tomorrow."

        "Who said you're in charge?" Emperor snipped despite being deeply unhelpful.

        "I'm not trying to be," he said, "it's just a suggestion."

        One you take. Moving away to the other side of the blaze while their bickering went on and on. You sat on a rusted pipe. Maskless a few feet to your right, brow furrowed but eyes closed. The Viltrumite to your left, arms folded behind his back. Posture painfully straight. His eyes flick over to you, head not moving. 

        You don't see it, but he's content with the situation at hand- for now. He could take the others. Savvy enough to survive in the harshest conditions where the others surely weren't. He'd conquered harsher planets than this without help. Atop of all that, you were choosing to be by his side. That is enough for him, for the moment.

[undercvrfan444]

Description! Mafia leader Satoru who loves his little doll but can’t let her attitude go unchecked.

Authors note! I’m thinking of elaborating on this drabble and making a fic. Dividers from @thecutestgrotto and @k1nzer

Reader who had been giving Satoru attitude all day and him knowing it’s because she hasn’t been taken care of. Any other person that snapped or bit at him the way she did would have been dead long ago.

You were sitting on the couch watching tv as Satoru sauntered in behind you. Gently he let one of his big hands run up your neck as he pushed your head back so you made eye contact with him.

“Hi doll, feeling better?” His words were low and teasing but held a bit of uncertainty to them. It sent chills down your spine and heat straight between your legs hearing him like this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Is all the you respond with.

Satoru clicks his tongue at you and bends down in your ear, hand tightening ever so gently over your throat. His long slender fingers were cold against your burning skin and it drove you mad.

“Oh I think you know very well doll.” His teeth grazed your throat, like he’d pounce on you any second. “You’ve been so mean to me baby. So imagine my surprise when I feel like i’ve done nothing but keep you safe and warm.”

Your chest heaved under the thin material of your shirt. Blood rushed to your ears in anticipation, knowing damn well you’d get what you wanted deserve for being so hateful all day. Hushed whimpers leave your lips when he removes his hand from your neck and stands up, coming to sit beside you.

Before you can take this chance to crawl into his lap he’s already two steps ahead of you. In a flash you’re pulled softly into his chest unable to move. As Satoru talks his thick chest rumbles. He’s so much larger than you without all the extra muscle he has, but you can’t deny it’s a turn on to feel how hard and ridged his body is while he envelopes you.

“Listen please, doll. Be a good girl f’me and take yer pants off. Okay?”

The quiet yet direct tone Satoru takes with you rings in your ears. It’s not like him to let bad behavior slip past without being punished…and he fucking feasted on the fear that exuded off of you. In compliance with his orders you slip out of the pants you had on leaving you in the skimpiest panties you could have owned.

“Oh fuck.” It was a low groan you didn’t know it you even heard right. His fingers were slow to caress you, teasing so nicely you almost regretted your actions today. Almost. “Did you have this planned doll? You wore those slutty little panties because you knew I’d do something about you being mean to me all day?”

Satoru was on his best behavior right now and you knew that. His words were sugar coated; not at all what you expected. It thrilled you beyond belief!

The man was like a storm at sea. So beautiful from a distance while still being able to settle fear deep in your chest. His cologne filled your nose making your head buzz instantly. A few seconds passed before you mustered up a few words.

“N-no. I just…I-“

“Ah ah. No no no, none of that stuttering mess.” He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Talk to me like the big girl you are. We both know you have a reason behind your actions and sputtering like a baby won’t save you right now.”

Without a warning Satoru ripped the thin fabric of your panties off of you. Red, stinging marks were left in wake of the material earning a squeal from you. “I-I’m sorry! Satoru I’m sorry!” Your words were rushed as you felt his fingers press between your slick folds.

“I just wanted some attention! I shouldn’t have been mean I know. I know!” A pained squeal erupts from your lips when he pushed two thick fingers past your entrance, stretching you so painfully good.

“Oh I know you’re sorry sweetheart, but unfortunately you’re still going to have to be punished. My men would think I started going soft if I didn’t work this attitude out of you.”

His fingers are brutal with how rough he bullies your pussy. Squelching and sloshing noises fill the room while you push on his wrist. Searing pain mixes with tingling pleasure that leaves you wanting more of his attention.

*Ring!* *Ring!* *Ring!*

both of you stop moving for a second. Gojo grins behind you, retrieving his phone from his back pocket while giving you a “you gonna be quiet?” look.

“Hello?” His voice was smooth as it spoke to whoever was on the other side of the phone. His fingers however…

Both of your hands clamp over your mouth to keep the pitiful whines from being too loud. His fingers pulled out of your pussy up until he was barely touching you before slamming into the soft tissue. Curling his fingers, he continued to bully your cunt while talking over the phone.

The mix of his cologne filling your senses, fingers stuffing you so deliciously full, and the intriguing feeling of possibly being heard coaxed your orgasm to build. The warm feeling in your tummy gathers quickly at the feeling of being manhandled.

Satoru’s fingers were *thick.* Thick and rough skin that rubbed against you so perfectly it felt like you were drunk. You don’t know why he had this effect on you, but it was welcomed with open arms. He could talk to your body like no other man had ever been able to.

“Sa-ah-toru! g’na cum…please!” The soft words are muffled under your hands. A sinister grin crossed Satoru’s face as he sits the phone beside him on the couch, clamping his own hand down onto your smaller hand and pushing his fingers deeper inside you.

A few seconds later and you’re coming undone on his fingers. Any screams or cries you tried to get out are stopped by his tight grip on your face. It’s hard to stay quiet as drool slips down your chin, thighs clamping tightly on his hand while you twitch.

Carefully his teeth nick your ear as he presses soothing kisses into the soft skin. “Shh be quiet or else you might get us in trouble doll.”

Your chest jumped as you took in ragged breaths. It didn’t take long for you to sink into his chest, nuzzling back against his shoulder and feeling his fingers scissor softly inside you. It wasn’t anything to give you real pleasure but just enough to keep that warm feeling in your tummy enjoyable.

You hadn’t even realized Satoru’s phone call ended until he pulled your hand away from your face easily. The red hue on your cheeks made him smile and pepper little kisses around your face.

“That wasn’t so bad now was it?” A quiet giggle fills your ears.

[zolass]

Detectives Attraction Ch. 03

Top Male Reader x Male Yandere Harem

Managed chapter three, after I didn't know what to do- listened to a lot of Bad Romance from Lady Gaga and shit went well after. For a short information; I have absolutely no fucking clue about how police departments work I tried to look up which rank is highest yada yada also I have no clue how crime scenes work, so take the information with the only aspect of fiction right now.

Also because I gave M/n a last name instead of simply L/n simply is because bro changed his last name- if that is your actual last name- ops-

Content warning: Dead body.

1.9k words

Sitting at his desk after M/n cleaned it, he just sat there, pen in hand tapping it against the wood as he stared at the papers of Alicia Wallace, her basic information were on it– of course they were important but the now lost papers held even more important information of the case.

M/n phone that laid on the desk started vibrating and ringing, with a sigh he grabbed it and looked at the screen, Elias Hart. He picked up the call, with a small roll of his eyes, “Yes?” “Mr. Howard– you need to come to the station,” those were the only words coming from the other side, before the call was cut off. A scoff, before M/n got ready to drive over. Him and Elias Hart weren’t on the best terms– they were coworkers and M/n knew the man meant really well with his job, but he considered Hart a little– soft in some ways with what the work required to do– yes the man was a fellow detective, but M/n can have opinions– right?

When M/n sat foot in the station further down town– he greeted some passing cops with a short nod, until he reached the conference room– which held quite a lot of high-tech equipment. When he stepped in, he only gave a curt nod before sitting down in his usual place, right beside Elias Hart. 

“There’s another missing case–” a picture was now on the screen of a young adult, “His name is Konstantine Smith, he’s barely mid twenties and was last seen by his family as he went out to work last saturday,” Commissioner Donovan Hayes spoke, “That’s almost a week ago now– why didn’t the family issued a missing case earlier?” someone asked. “Well apparently Mr. Smith was known to have disappeared a few times before but always returned. He works at the corner shop down the street, in which he was last seen until the end of his shift,” A CCTV footage was played, catching M/n’s and others attention.

M/n leaned back as his eyes were focused on the sped-up footage, he analyzed the footage as well as he could as it played– looking out for anything that could be a lead to the case. “I’ll go to ask his family about any suspicions they might have on their son's disappearance,” M/n spoke up, as he looked at the commissioner, who seemed to study the man before he only nodded. 

“Take someone with you,” just as M/n was about to decline, a voice interrupted, “I’ll join him,” none other than Elias Hart spoke up. M/n only pursed his lips as he nodded and stood up, followed by his now partner. As they walked out of the department, M/n decided to speak up with a frown on his face, “Why would you do that?” a shrug from the other, “You’re not a bad detective– I know you want to do good, and these other’s are like starving hyenas trying to wait for any weakness to rip you apart,” Elias spoke.

And M/n knew the other was right, so he simply walked over to his car without answering. Footsteps quickly followed him, before rounding the car which made M/n raise a quick eyebrow before getting in. As they drove through the city, they were driving closer to the more– secured district of Noxhaven which was also where Adrian’s law firm stood. M/n on the other hand lived in the district in which most middle class lived, it was safe to a certain degree it wasn’t as bad as the further outskirts of the city.

The sound of the radio made M/n glance over to Elias, who played around at the volume making music fill the space that was previously only filled with the sound of the engine. E/c were met with honey brown ones, before M/n focused back on the street, until they arrived at the families house. 

It was large– easily called a mansion, and for a short moment M/n wasn’t surprised by the sudden disappearance of the victim. A lot of lower class people held grudges against the wealthier people, but it was more of a surprise that Konstantine Smith was out without any protection close by– like someone picking him up. 

M/n only said that because he already knew the Smith’s, the first time their son  disappeared he was also the one who found him, after that the family had made sure to always send a driver to pick him up and bring him back safely. As the duo walked up the steps, Elias rang the bell which was opened after a short while, in the doorway was a middle aged woman who looked tired with worry and red puffy eyes and nose. 

“Oh Mr. Howard– it’s you again,” suddenly the woman stepped out, grabbing onto M/n’s hand, “Please find my son again– you found him once already– please bring me my son back home,” tears welled up in the woman’s eyes, as another pair of footsteps approached the door quickly. 

Out came her husband who looked worried, especially after his eyes landed on his wife. M/n greeted the man, who grabbed the woman’s shoulders gently, “Would you like to come in?” the man invited them in, as he led his wife back in. There weren't any questions asked– it was rather obvious why they were there.

Soon after the four were seated in the lavish living room, while Elias had a block and pen out, ready to write down anything, M/n was seated by his side. “Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I would like to ask if there were any– unusual happenings, any suspicious activities involving your son or anyone close to him– like a friend?” M/n asked.

For a moment the couple thought about anything that looked off in the last days or even weeks, until the woman spoke up, “Oh yeah– Konstantine brought home a new friend that I’ve never seen before– he didn’t stay long, only spoke about how he’ll meet him after his shift. After that we didn’t see our son since, we tried to contact him or asked some of his other friends but nobody knew anything,” the woman’s voice was shaky, tears rolled down her cheek as sniffles left her.

With a few following questions, M/n would have to inform the head of the department that the Smith’s would come by for Mrs. Smith for hopeful visual identification. Just as the duo was about to go back to the car, there was a dull noise from the further back of the house, which quickly got their attention. 

As they quickly drew their guns, and moved swiftly to the sound, ready to shoot if whoever that was might be armed. But as they turned the corner, there were only fading footsteps far away, and a body laying on the lawn. Without missing another heartbeat M/N and Elias were on the move towards it, as a loud piercing scream sounded from above them, on a balcony stood Ms. Smith who starred with wide horror filled eyes at the body.

When the body came into complete view, they saw the reason why the woman screamed, not only because the person was dead and half burned, but also because it was Konstantine Smith– the missing son who returned, not as they hoped to. 

“Call reinforcement,” M/n said, as he put his gun back into its holster and grabbed a pair of gloves. He squatted next to the body, gently placing his hands on the sides of the head, tilting it slightly underneath the sunlight inspecting the body with a trained eye. “Seems like there’s now only the search after who did this to you huh?” M/n mumbled under his breath as he glanced at the blue eyes deprived of any life.

As the reinforcement came, M/n and Elias went inside the house to look for any clues. When they arrived in the victim's room, they saw that it was cleaned, except that there were traces of blood and a bit of what seemed to be a bit of burned skin that got caught in the carpet that led to the closet.

E/c eyes scanned over the room as M/n walked closer, until he pushed the door to the closet open, it was a small walk in closet, but this was where the body seemed to have been stored for at least 24 hours when not even a bit more. “Whoever threw the body out of the window seemed to have hid the body previously in this closet,” M/n informed his partner, he took a step in while avoiding the blood stain in the carpet. Shining a UV light and IR light, in hopes of finding any fingerprints, as this would be the only thing that could help identifying the suspect, which seemed to be the guy with whom Konstantin had met up with.

When M/n and Elias walked out of the house, leaving the on-going investigation behind them, “I can drive you home,” M/n simply offered before getting into his car, without waiting for a reply. Elias stopped in surprise, before he frowned in suspicion as he got in the passenger seat, “Why would you–” “I’m simply being nice to my partner– can’t I be nice?” M/n interrupted, as he looked over at Elias with a raised eyebrow.

Elias only huffed, before giving his address. At first M/n thought it would be awkward, but Elias quickly distracted himself with the radio, and danced with his hand and a bit of his upper body to the music, while he lip synced the lyrics. M/n can’t deny that he was rather amused by the individual that was Elias Hart.

After he brought his partner home, M/n made his way back home. But he couldn’t help but glance into the rear view, but he saw nothing. With a sigh, M/n couldn’t stop himself from trying to connect this case with the one of Alicia Wallace, but the woman was alive– Konstantine Smith was dead.

Pushing the door open to his home, after shutting and locking it, only then did M/n kick his shoes off and hang his jacket up. Walking over to the bathroom, he quickly stripped himself and started the shower, his phone laid on the sink counter, in case any important calls came through. As M/n stood underneath the hot water cascading down his toned body, he felt how his tense muscles relaxed. 

Just as he finished his shower and started to dry himself– a message came through, as he looked at the unknown number he was instantly reminded by the unknown call and the break in. He quickly grabbed his phone and opened it, his eyes scanning over the words– making him scoff and roll his eyes.

‘Heyy, I decided to simply get your number. Hope you had a nice day detective~ -your favorite lawyer xoxo’ was the message that was sent to him. Putting the phone back, M/n continued to dry himself while getting ready to jot down all the informations of the new case. While on the other side of the phone was Adrian, who watched the open chat with the eyes of a hawk– when he saw that M/n opened his message his heartbeat quickened. But after M/n went offline again, Adrian couldn’t help but chuckle, “One day,” he mused, while he took a sip from his wine glass, while his other hand patted the fluffy cat on his lap, “Adrian are you listening?” a harsh voice asked through the speaker of the screen, quickly gaining his attention, “Of course, Sir.”

[alexsl-universe]

First Date

Summary: Trying to find a good guy to date you try tinder, after many failed attempts a guy catches your attention.

Warnings: None, pure fluff.

Paring: TFWS!Bucky x Reader

Word count: 3292

Prompt: B1 "First Date"

A/N: Hello, I'm trying to post more of my writings, i wrote this a long time ago but didn't had courage to post before, just want to say that English is not my first language and any mistakes are mine, also this is for the Bucky Boy Bingo 2025 event, i write some for this event and i will try to post some in here, hope you enjoy it :)

Tiger fotos, holding fishes, couple wanting a third, “If no one knows no one can ruin”, which means open relationship but only for him, so many profiles but no one grabs your attention, mans who only want sex, but you want a real relationship, sex is good but you want someone to hug when you got home,

You scroll some more profiles and think if someone is worth the stress, until someone gets your attention, James Barnes, handsome and none red flags apparently, is a huge step up, you have similar interests and don't live far from each other.

James Barnes

Hi, glad to find someone without that stupid tiger or similar photos lol.

James: If i want someone nice i should display what i have to offer right? Saw you like Lord of The Rings, like more the movies or the books?

Got points for not going to some cheese pickup line, liked that

I’ve grow watching the movies but read the books when i got older, liked both, but movies got a special place in my heart, you?

James: Glad to know you liked me

Books have a immersion in a different way, but I like the movies too

Any other hobbies besides reading?

Hope you liked me too 😉

I don't do much besides reading a lot, the type that people got worried with the amount books I have, I also like to cook but I'm not the best

And what else do you like?

James: I'm liking you 😉

I like to do sports, nothing specific, exercise helps me to get my head in place

Wow, I imagine you must be really ripped then

I don't do much besides riding a bike sometimes

So…

Wanna meet in person? I really liked you and want to know you better 

But just a date, I'm not a one night stand girl 

James: I would love to meet you in person

And don't worry I'm not a one night stand neither

When can we meet?

You so nice, others guys just stop answering when sex is not guaranteed, you are getting a lot of points with me

You free on the weekend?

Saturday evening?

James: Hope i got enough to make you smile

It's good to me, where do you want to meet?

Do you like cats?

There's a new cat cafe i would like to go

James: Great, I love cats, send me the details and I will meet you there 😘

🥰

You send him the address and chat a bit through the days. He is cute but a bit shy and above all he is not trying to make you accept to have sex with him.

When Saturday came you get ready with some casual clothes, dark t-shirt, red plaid blouse, some comfort jeans and black all-star, with another look at the mirror you check and everything looks good, but you still got some butterflies in your stomach, you still don't know if he is the same person or he is lying about everything.

Your thoughts got calmer when he sends you messages about being anxious to meet you and making you smile like a little girl with his messages.

You two arrive almost together, with just a few minutes apart.

“Hi James, how are you?” you say getting close and smiling at him

“Hi, you waited a lot? I got lost trying to get here” he said a bit shy but also smiling to you 

“No, just a little, I think not even five minutes” you said smiling to him

“Good” he say smiling to you “I bought you flowers” he says while handing you the small rose bouquet 

“That's so cute James, thank you so much, you are the cutest guy I've been on a date” you say looking at the flowers “But I don't think we can get in with those, but i will definitely put them on my backpack” you say smiling 

“That's okay, if you don't want you can leave here” he says a bit shy “Let's get in?”

“Sure!” you say happily, you always loved romantic gestures, but you are most sure that the last person who gave you flowers was your dad in some moment of your childhood 

As you two get inside the staff says that the flowers need to be on your backpack inside the lockers in the entrance, and also explains how everything works, you can eat your food first then you can get to the cats, or the other way around, but never bring food to the cat area, you both decides to eat first. 

“So, what a really nice and romantic guy like you is doing on tinder?” You ask sipping you hot cocoa on a mug that has cat whiskers draw on

“Let's just say I don't date anyone in a long time, so I took the tinder shortcut, hoping that I can get a date” he say drinking from a very similar mug but with coffee inside

“Oh sorry didn't mean to get you sad, I know how hard can it be” I say smiling trying to light up the mood “And if you may ask me, you're the best date I've ever had”

“Thank you” he says shyly sipping his coffee again “If you may ask me you're one of the kindest women that I've went on a date with” he smiles to me

“Thank you” you say feeling your cheeks get a bit hot. “Want to see the menu?” you say pointing at our side

“I… don't think I've had nothing like those foods, you can pick something for me if you want”

“No problem, but first I need to know you a bit more” you say resting your elbows on the table and holding your face with your hands “What you like in the food?”

“Simple, like jam, not much fancy desserts or lot of mixed flavors”

“Hmm, let me see what they got in the menu for you” you grabbing the plastic object and reading some of the plates “I think you will like ‘kitten bread’ is puff pastry in the shape of a cat's paw with some deli meats on top” you say showing him the picture of the menu

“Looks tasty, let's eat that” he say noding with his head 

“And ‘Meowve Jelly’ is a pave with jelly, each flavor came with a different cat expression” I point at it picture a bit lower on the menu

“They have one with plums, I love plums, I want one of these too” he says happily “What you going to get for you?”  

“I think the same bread but a ‘Lucky Cat’ cake, it looks like a cat sitting and is made of chocolate which is love” you show him the picture 

“It's really cute, just like you” he says smiling to you, and you get a bit flushed

“Let's order then” you say smiling and waving at the closest waiter to you two

You two order and chat while waiting for the food, he says about his experience in the army and you talk about your job, the time flies as more you know about each other.

When the food arrives you get excited because the food is even prettier in real life, with every detail carefully put in place 

“They are so pretty, you mind if I take a picture?” You say happily to James, or Bucky as he likes to be called “I won't show your face or anything just the food, don't worry”

“Sure, feel free to take the pictures” he says smiling to you

You take pictures of the beautiful food and one that has Bucky's arm and hand, you won't share that photo anywhere, you just wanted to have something to remember him and the best date you've ever had.

“Finished, hope they are good as they look” you said putting your phone down

“They're really cute, is a shame that we will ruined while we eat” he says grabbing the fork and looking confused at his bread “Also I have no clue how to cut this” he says laughing his nervosism out

“I think you can try like this” you show him were the kitten beans, that are the deli meats in a way that he can taste both the bread and the filling “But you can eat as you like”

“Your way is probably the best to taste all it deliciousness” he say putting the fork on the mouth and eating “It's really good, try for yourself doll” You get flushed by the nickname 

You do just like him and ate a piece of yours, and it's one of the most delicious things you ever eaten 

“It's really really good” You say smiling to him

“I like here, but with you the experience is ten times better, I really liked your smile” he says also smiling to you and you get a bit more flushed 

“Thank you, you also have a beautiful smile” you haven't met any guy like him before, someone that makes so much complements or was as sweet as he is “You're gonna get me spoiled treating me like a princess”

“My ma’ taught me to treat every woman well, especially when I'm liking her” he says smiling and giving you a wink, you try very hard to think who stupid loses him and also you thank that you can be with him, he is like prince charming.

“Thank her later, I'm loving being treat like a lady, especially by you” i say smiling at him “Fells like you got out of a romantic movie”

“You lucky that I'm very real” he says getting one of his hand to touch mine and tangle our fingers together 

“If you allow me to ask, how are you single? You are like the perfect example of boyfriend material and any lady who loses you is an idiot”

“Well, let's say being in the business that I'm in and having to be long times far from home makes hard to find someone who is willing to make it work, and generally pushes people away" he said sipping his coffee

"I get that, but if you're here it means that you're good at what you do so I shouldn't worry that much right?" You say after sipping your hot cocoa 

"You're seeing me in a good moment, there was far worse, I think I'm on lucky wave" he says smiling and finishing his plate

"That's good, you should enjoy it, relax a bit" I said putting my cup on the side and keep eating my plate

"I will, hopefully with you" he said smiling "And you? Why such a petty lady is doing single?" He said hiding his face with the mug to not show that he got a bit shy

"Well, nowadays people are more in just sex and no connection, I liked but I want to have someone waiting for me at home, talk about my day and theirs" you said pushing you cake closer to you "Being someone that want a relationship nowadays scares people" you say shrugging

"I'm not scared, I also do want something solid, I've already had my fair share of instability, with job problems, some close people getting in and out of my life, is... was tuff years" you can feel the sadness in his voice as he gets his desert close to him "Looks like we are in similar situations" he tries to hides his sadness thru a smile

"Different details but yeah, same situation" I smile to comfort him "No more sadness, let's get something sweet to makes this moment sweeter" he laughs at your joke, you think his laugh is very cute

"With you doll this moment already is very sweet, the dessert is just a bonus" he winks at you again and say the nickname that he don't know but makes you the happiest woman in the world, you smile back at him

"Agread, this is the best date I've ever had by far, and with a man that I thought only exists in my dreams" you smile and cut a piece of your cake with your fork and put in your mouth so you don't shame yourself

You appreciate the sweet chocolate taste, with the filling made of Belgium chocolate mousse and tiny chocolate granny imitating the cat fur, you smile even more from that divine taste. Bucky does the same with his dessert and enjoying it

"I think I'm gonna become a regular here, hope with you by my side to make everything sweater" he smiles and you choke with a piece of cake, is he trying to steal your heart? Cause he is doing a amazing job at it

"That would be amazing" you say after finally eating that cake piece and smiling at him

"There's a reason you want to come in here? You have or had a cat?" He asks while eating more 

"Had a fill during my life, but at the moment I don't, not sure if I want one so people may starting to call me the crazy cat and books lady" he laughs at my joke, that has a bit of truth, but you don't want to think about that now

"I was thinking to get one myself, my doc says will be good to me and make me feel less lonely"

"It's a good idea, but think a lot about it, is a big responsibility to take care of another life, mostly those who depends a lot on us, it can be tiring and exhaustive, but to me is worth it" you smile remembering of your last cats, they show love in different ways but still is love

"I think i need more of that, my house feels much lonely sometimes, having someone waiting for me there would be good" he says eating another piece 

"So much, having someone that loves us at home makes it fells way more like a home, maybe you find one in here" you say smiling 

"Maybe I can even find two" he says smiling, I really hope he can find a cat, but why did he said two? "I'm liking here, but mostly you" he smiles at me

"Me too" I smiled at him and blushing a bit "Did you finish eating? Want to see the cats?" 

"Sure, I would love to play with the cats, and your company makes will make it even better" you smile at him and get a bit more red

After you two finish eating your desserts the two of you go to the part that has the cats, finding a spot with not many people and sit and wait for a cat to approach.

Don't take much time and a white cat goes in Bucky direction, she smells him, goes around him and lay on his lap

"I think she likes you" you say while petting the cat

"You think so?" He asks shyly, and not knowing how to accept her love "You think she will let me pet her?"

"Probably, she is letting me pet her and laying on your lap" you say smiling at him "Let me help you, do like me, cats don't like much belly rubs and will let you know where they want" you say petting her chin 

Bucky starts slow with fear, but she starts to purr, loving his touch and moving all over his lap, then finally stopping with her belly up

"See, she likes you" I say petting another cat that got close to me 

"I don't think any other animal was that lovely with me, I fell that I already fell for her" he says while petting her head "Not just for her actually" he say looking at me with his cheeks a bit flushed 

"I can say the same James" you smile back to him

"Call me Bucky doll, we got more intimal so you can call me that" he say getting your hand close to yours "But I hope we can be more than friends"

I hesitate for a second before getting closer to him, feeling the warm for his hand thru the leather gloves and some sparkles, something that I haven't felt in a long time, I just give in to desire and lean in to kiss him, a romantic and passionate kiss, he caress my face with one of his hands, until you feel cat nails on my hand

"Ouch"  you say getting out of the kiss to see that you have a scratch on your hand "Hey I know him first don't be jealous" you say to the cat that doesn't even bother to look at you

"Did she hurt you?" Bucky says worried

"It's just a scratch, I'm fine" you say smiling "But I won't complain if you kiss to make it better"

He takes your hand and into his lips and presses a gentle kiss on your injury, and he keeps kissing until he reaches for your mouth again, but gets interrupted by a woman approaching you two.

"Excuse me" she say lowering to you level "My name is June and I'm one of the caretakers of the cats, I saw that Alfine really liked you two, she is more shy and doesn't interact much with the visitors, and i want to say that all of the cats in here are up for adoption" she says smiling "Also we don't allow this type of physical contact in here, but I'm happy for you guys" she say standing up and leaving us in silence

"I think I will adopt Alfine" Bucky says breaking the silence "You would help me to get everything for her?" He says looking at me

"I would love but maybe the process can be a little long and definitely with a lot of bureaucracy" I say holding his hand with mine "But we can get a part ready before she comes home"

You both smile at each other and go to the place where June is, she explains how everything is going to work and gives Bucky the papers to adopt Alfine.

To my surprise it takes less than an hour to adopt her, after the two of us go get the basic stuff for her in the closest pet shop to grab all of the essentials for her to live with him.

I’m with him companing him during all of the process, even helping to choose the color of her leach and some basic toys for her.

"I think her bed will be good next to yours, mine love to sleep with me but she can be different, beside you create a bigger bound even more with her" I say while putting the shopping bag on the couch 

"I know but... she looks likes the jealous type, and I want another cat in my bed" he say smirking

"If you ask nice she may agree" I say smiling and getting closer to him

You two start to chat more while getting everything ready for her confort, Alfine stays with both of you on the couch, demanding some attention from time to time but knowing when she needs to let you two alone.

When both of you sit on the couch and get a bit closer one thing leads to another and now he got his hands all over my body.

As he promised he wasn't a one night stand, even after we spend that night talking until both were craving more intimacy and decided that going into his room, which was the best idea, he doesn't want to be known as the naked neighbor, but I’m very sure after that all the neighbors know his name now.

A/N: Hope you enjoy it, pls tell me what you think

[helluvapoison]

Save Me

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

warning: violence n blood but happy ending

“Summon your blue blood master, whore.”

The demon carelessly drops your phone into the cage and it lands at your knees. You don’t remember if this was a ransom or a hit on your beloved. You can’t bring yourself to care because you know the minute he sees you in this state, none of it will matter.

Your tongue darted out and swiped over your cracked lips, gathering the copper taste of your own blood. The chuckle that you let out is dry, cut short by a cough that worsens the state of your throat. It highlighted the bruises littering your skin, especially those you couldn’t see.

He would.

“This is gonna end real badly f’you.” You tell the demon hoarsely, offering them the biggest, meanest smile you could muster.

Your thumb hits the call button without hesitation.

You hadn’t even uttered a single word.

Immediately the energy in the warehouse shifts. An undeniable chill crept in suddenly and seemed to chase off any light the windows provided. Someone may as well have thrown a blanket over the building. If not for your phone providing a faint glow, you wouldn’t have been able to see your labored breaths leaving your lips. Simultaneously, the shitty bones of the warehouse trembled, quietly at first then ramping up to a deafening sound that surely meant it would collapse at any moment. It wouldn’t. Not while you were there. Even if it was only your body for him to collect, no damage would come unto you by his doing.

The demon’s eyes narrow in suspicion, like whatever was happening was your fault and yours alone. Your crooked smile widens into a malicious forewarning for what’s to come. The grin pulls and tears the cut on your lip that had only just stitched itself together, stinging you in retaliation. You’re certain the light illuminating you from below, combined with the blood, has you looking positively mad.

“Told you.”

Lucifer was more than a king; he was the judge, jury and executioner for his subjects. It wasn’t often they forgot it but should they do something drastic, such as stealing his beloved, then he would make an example out of as many souls necessary. You knew this and you knew it well— you’ve been around every century or so when the newer sinners needed a refresher. This just so happened to be your first time being directly involved in why.

It must be then that the harrowing realization finally sets in. They’ve bit off more than they could swallow and now it was going to choke the life out of them. Or, more accurately, he would.

Apparently determined to get in what would surely be their final reprisal, they reached into the cage and yanked you forward by your neck. Your forehead quickly meets an icy bar, sending pain ringing through your skull in greeting. Trapped, a mangled cry rips through the room that you don’t recognize is your own. You writhe in the demon’s grip, struggling to claw at their wrists and face. Tearing at their skin, trying to make them even in wounds more than you’re trying to escape, you manage a particularly good swipe at their eyes that makes them reel back. In their stubbornness, they refuse to release you and your face is squished against the cage as they stumble and crash.

No, you realize. They were flung clear across the room like an unwanted doll, landing in, what was now, a pile of wood. Familiar eyes of ruby and gold steal your attention from the groaning demon. You blink furiously, forcing your vision to tell you true. Of course you knew he would come for you, that was never in question, but whether you would be alive or not for that rescue did cross your mind. Your body had already begun to relax, melting with the comforting warmth of your beloved’s presence. Lucifer’s gasp is rigid, his voice trembling in disbelief and rising fury but he manages a soft tone just for your sake.

“Oh, angel. My sweet, sweet dove. I’m here now, I’m here. I’m so sorry.”

Metal creaks under his palms but it takes less effort than opening a jar of marmalade. He’s obscenely gentle while plucking you out of the cage, acutely aware of the way your breath hitches at his touch. Those aforementioned bruises pulse with vigor, spreading a dull ache all over your body. Just as you suspected, Lucifer's eyes roamed all over counting each and every one. He’ll return the favor tenfold.

One minute Lucifer’s holding onto a fraying thread of mercy, studying your precious face and stealing the apple of your cheek. The next he feels tears slide under the pad of his thumb, swiping them into nothingness like he wished he could do your pain. Your relief is palpable in them, he can taste it on his tongue with hints of your fading fear. His golden pupils get smaller and smaller until they’re consumed entirely by red.

Logically he knows you’re right there in his arms but your weight isn’t grounding enough for him. He can’t see you anymore. All he can see is the ugly blotches that some pitiful excuse for future kindling dared to taint you with. Clearly they knew who you were and how important you were to the King of Hell, so the consequences of taking and hurting you had been glossed over but accepted nonetheless. An act against you is no less treasonous than an act against Lucifer himself; to spit at your feet would be to do the same to him.

“You’ve got guts to pull off a stunt like that, huh?” A terrifying grin cracks unevenly across his face and is shot over his shoulder at the demon that was struggling to pick themselves up. “Let’s see ‘em.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shield your face from a gust of wind. Upon opening them you realize you’re sitting on the ground alone. Lucifer unfurled his wings and launched himself over to the demon. They made it to their feet only to be launched into the wall and leaving a them-sized crater behind. Horrified and paralyzed you could only watch as Lucifer hovered over them, cocking back both fists and hurling them forward one at a time.

“I think there was one there, there— oh can’t forget here!”

Even while knowing what was to come, it still made your stomach lurch to see it firsthand. Teeth clattered to the ground in one punch, another and the demon’s eye was swollen shut. You were positive what Lucifer blocked with his body, the savagery you couldn’t see, was much worse. It shouldn’t bother you, not with how long you’ve lived down here but having blood on your hands, no matter how indirectly, made your stomach lurch.

“Luci—“ You croaked, your throat closing in on itself when you tried to speak. It was as if your body had sided with your beloved’s vengeance.

However the tiny sound managed to put a stutter in Lucifer’s next blow, his knuckles halting just before the demon’s face. A frustrated snarl rips from him and cracks through the silence like thunder, but the storm in him quiets before he turns to you. Wracked by guilt more than rage, your beloved can’t fully face you.

You try again, “Can we—“ only to be cut off by a cough.

“Stop—stopstopstop,” Lucifer whispers, voice getting closer, louder, “I’m here, I’m here. Don’t… don’t hurt yourself.”

True to his word, he’s right there. All it took was a blink and he’s kneeling before you, hovering his hands all over as if he’s not sure where to touch you. How can he comfort you when you’re bruised all over? You force yourself to continue, knowing he’ll keep his focus with you if you do.

“Jus’ wanna go home.”

Lucifer’s demonic features flare, hesitation on the tip of his tongue. Unfinished business never seemed like an issue before. With the bewildered look he gave you, you may as well have asked him to throw out his entire duck collection. The thought of using your voice again made your throat itch so you beseech him with your eyes, pinching your brows together and turning them up.

Scrunching his face once more he sighed heavily, seemingly defeated as his horns shrunk back into his skull and his tail retreated. Then your Lucifer returned to you at last, smiling softly, though guilt and regret swam in his crimson eyes.

“Home it is. Agh, I hate when you use your secret weapon against me. It’s not fair, I mean, how am I supposed to resist this face?”

You try to keep your own smile from spreading too far, opting instead to squeeze the man close to you to share in your joy. Lucifer was starving to do the same, holding you as close as he could without stressing your wounds. You could feel him inhale against your neck like you were air to him, filling him with relief and the ability to carry on.

When he pulled away you grew worried, especially when his smile dropped and he turned ever so slightly to the bloodied and battered demon.

“Congratulations, peasant, you’ve been pardoned. Courtesy of the King of Hell and his angel— who you will never ever even think of again. Right?” There was a pained groan from the demon that sent a dark chuckle bubbling up from Lucifer’s chest, “I thought you might agree. Do me a favor and spread the word? I’d rather not do this again. You know what I mean?”

There was a sharp edge to his grin for a moment too long but it faded by the time he eagerly returned his attention to you. The portal below whirred to life with a faint hum and sent pulses of warmth up into the air. You were completely and utterly wrapped up in your beloved that you hardly noticed. Lucifer mumbled into your hair how he would kiss your “boo-boos”, get you bandaged up and in pajamas in no time.

Hearing that, it was a liiittle hard to believe he was the same man that was seconds away from slaughtering someone for you.

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ thanks for voting everyone!

[evilminji]

Okay, but... now I'm wondering >.>

@the-witchhunter We talked about Danny being Morningstar's feral, probably engineering oils and ectoplasmic goo covered, mad scientist/himbo hybrid (attack) purse dog. His special lil guy.

But!

I seek your Knowledge(TM).

From second hand accounts? He seems to HATE the hypocrisy. The blaming HIM for humanity's own choices. The rat race and endless song n dance of "Righteous Good VS. Cartoonish Evil". Because it let's humanity paint themselves the helpless victims. Because it's all surface level. Because it is not so easy to escape the ugliness of your Sins, yet they keep trying to scapegoat him.

Fuck um.

He was tired of it.

But? He still has CONSIDERABLE POWER. It's probably written down. And the Ring Of Rage? Is proooobably not the loveliest of artifacts? I imagine, like the Crown, it's NOT leaving Danny alone. One of those "we don't CARE if there is no throne left to sit upon, you WILL wear us, as King" sort of systems.

It genuinely would not and DOES NOT matter, if not a single soul in all the Zone bows to him. Did he defeat the previous holder of their Right To Rulership? Yes or No.

If No, fuck off.

If Yes, new monarch.

Is it hurting him? Not the rings problem. Nor the Crown's. Heavy is the weight, etc etc. But! DANNY would certainly care. He is... is ANGRY all the time now. Has no idea who would even MAKE this bullshit ring. Why JUST Rage? Yeah, it makes ghosts stronger, but at what COST?

He can't even get rid of it!

......by himself.

Luckily, he's still clear headed enough to know that he's NOT in this by himself. And it's amazing what "mom, dad, this ring is trying to drive me insane. Help me" in a terrified and tearful voice, can brush over. No one threatens their baby and all that.

It would honestly be hilarious, seeing the extended Fenton clan decend like LOCUSTS on Pariahs Keep, searching for clues, terrifying the local ghosts, if... if he wasn't so tired.

God he's so tired.

It's Aunt Alecia who... "politely encourages" a passing scholar to lend them the book they need. Took the poor sucker right out of the sky. Guy never stood a chance. RIP.

He learns he has to head..... over? Like... 27 that-ish way, then up. Huh. 27 WHAT?

Realities, apparently. He's in the wrong bundle. Branch? Neighborhood? Eh. Clan Fenton rolls back out, he packs his bags, and hilariously enough? Goes off to the devils night club. Hopes he likes rings. Or hates them.

Thankfully, being "king" means the Zone? Kinda... humors him? Like... it still has RULES(tm). He can... can FEEL that now. But it's willing to bend some for him, if he asks. And anything NOT against the rules? If it's in the right mood? He need only ask. It's weird. Being suddenly so powerful, yet NOT, at the same time.

Cause none of it's his.

All he has is the Zone's attention. The ability to ask pretty please. If you don't mind. And then? The highways between... ALL will just? Shift and change for him. He can see how it went to Pariah's head. The Zone is pretty agreeable. Is by nature Amoral, cause it's not a Being, it's... well, it's the Zone.

And everyone wants him to ask things. Do things. Demand this or that. Use this power.

Maybe he doesn't WANT too! Maybe he didn't WANT to be king! Doesn't he have the right to say NO? To refuse? Why do they think he OWES them service? An eternity of politics and people trying to kill him, for something he never wanted in the FIRST PLACE.

He's so tired.

The nightclub's pretty cool.

So he comes to ask, politely of course, cause the guy's probably busy, if Morningstar could... dunno, fix or destroy it? Want a ring, maybe? Also he heard you MADE the stars. Huge fan of all of that. Can I ask about the process? Or are you in the middle of something?

And? Lucifer? Turns around, from where he's Leaning Seductive Yet Elegantly(tm) to see... scrawny. Tiny corpse child. No... half? Corpse? Alive. Dying. Alive yet dying. Huh. Well, that is different. And here he didn't think he'd get see anything NEW. You, child, are NOT a zombie. What are you?

Halfa.

I have no idea what that is. What do you want?

He gets shown the ugliest, crudest, peice of shit ring imaginable. A genuine foul little curse. Really stinks up the place. He destroys it, obviously. This club has STANDARDS. Hope that wasn't important?

Kid just smiles the biggest fangy lil grin. No. No it was not.

Obvious, lie, but cute lil teeth. He'll allow it.

He gets dragged into talking about the stars. And talking. And talking. Mostly bragging and explaining. Kid hangs off his every word. Follows him around as he makes his rounds. Asks good questions. Completely focused, dispite the booze and barely dressed dancing all around him.

Lucifer can't help notice the crown.

Lovely little thing. Space ice and star dust, glittering like jewels and light catching the mist. If he remembers right... that one iiiiiis..... not Limbo, it's.... Zone! That crown is the Zone, it changes to suit the wearer. He recognizes the vibe. Awfully young, aren't you?

And.... it all burst forth. He didn't even need to press. Use persuasive words and honeyed tones. Like an inflamed, festering wound. The merest brush is enough to spill everything.

Negligence, greed, blood lust. Bigotry and xenophobia. A tyrants endless quest for power. Ah, humans. They truly don't change do they? Realities away, dead or alive. Now they're harrasing a child. He honestly looks miserable. Whereas just a moment before, listening to Lucifer talk about his work on the stars, his soul practically GLOWED with light. A tiny little star unto himself.

.......maybe it's the big ol "I'm you BIGGEST FAN" eyes. The sad wet cat aura. Perhaps the scrawny "could snap you like a twig" teenager, all elbows and knees. The fact he is, in fact, NOT human; for all that he once was. But?? The kid? Is... not terrible company.

He'd even go so far as to say? It's like having a pet intern.

He can sleep on the couch.

Tell you what, you stay here? I'll keep taking about stars and YOU can do the chores I don't feel like doing. I'll take care of you and all that.

And Danny? Honestly was sold at the word "stars" but? This sounds like a phenomenally terrible idea... and he has yet to meet one of THOSE he hasn't made out sloppy still with, so deal! But as a minor, that DOES make you his new gaurdian for the next four-ish years. He's legally obligated to finish schooling.

Ah.

.....well shit.

(Just? Local stressed 14-15 year old Ghost King does RESPONSIBILE thing and finds Adultier Adult. With more qualified Adult powers. Unfortunately for everyone, the adult is Lucifer Morningstar, night club owner. Even MORE Unfortunately, said ghost kind has pack bonded with the Nice Star Man, who saved him from the Bad Ring, and effectively offered to let him crash on his swanky couchs.

Now Morningstar has to? Somewhat VAGUELY pretend he gives a shit local schooling system, as he puts his charge INTO it. Actively giving waking terrors to the magical community. What evil plot is afoot? Where did he get this tiny minor death god? What is his end goal FOR said child?

No one knooooows~

But Lucifer is just doing this cause he's a Being of his word. He hates the tedious minor chores he'll be foisting off onto Danny. And? Most importantly? Look at that face. *shoujo sparkly eyes of Star Sempai Noticed Me!* it's like having a golden retriever puppy. Ffs he has STANDARDS.)

(It'd be hilarious to watch the hostile 5th dimensional chess DC characters have going on in the background, all while? Danny is like? Man! Isn't this universe GREAT? Everyone here is so CHILL! And nice to me! I'm so relaxed now! Finally, I can finish my education in peace.)

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Rated R (pt 2)

Summary: Y/N and matt try out their sexual fantasies

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, P in V, Unprotected sex (do not try this at home), orgasm denial, squirting, cream pie, multiple orgasms, oral (male and female receiving), Dom!Matt, Sub!Reader, dumbification, ‘sir’ kink, choking, slapping, OVERALL FILTHY

A/N: THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE SUPPORT ON THE FIRST PART!! this is my first attempt at writing smut sooo i just hope you love this :)

:¨ ·.· ¨:

`· . ꔫ

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“don’t make me say it again Y/N strip” matt says as his eyes darken and fill of lust. i’ve never seen this side of matt before but i have to say i absolutely love this side of him.

i take off my shirt and pants leaving me in nothing but my black bra with lace and a little bow at the front that pushes my breast up in the right way and my matching black underwear, i look up at matt as he’s eyeing my figure up and down before breaking the silence “god you’re sexy…” i smiled at his compliment before he grabbed me by my waist and threw me on the bed letting a small yelp escape my lips, as he smiled devilishly and lustfully he ripped my bra off breaking the clasps in the back, “matt” i wined “that was my favorite bra” i drug out the last word “ill buy another one Y/N” he said sternly before ripping off my black lacey thong and another yelp escaping my lips.

Matt wasted no time placing his tongue flat and licking a strip up my soaking wet pussy and a loud moan ripping from my mouth echoing through the room. “nope be a good girl and keep quiet for me yeah? can you do that” he said mumbling into my pussy while continuing to eat me out i nodded trying to get my words together but matt always lives up to his nickname ‘matt the munch’ he was eating me like his last meal. “awwww has my little slut gone dumb already? i haven’t even fucked you and you’re dumb from my mouth” i moan as a response “oh u like being called a slut, use your words sweet girl” he smirks. i swallow before answering “Yes matt” as my back arches, matt uses his hand to press my hips down to the bed before lifting his head up “from now on it’s yes sir or i stop” he snarls. i’ve never seen or heard him talk to me this way before but his words make me wetter then i have been before. “y-y-yes sir” i stutter out. “good fucking girl” he mutters out before sucking harshly on my sensitive clit and adding not 1 but 2 fingers into my needy hole.

within a few minutes i’m a moaning mess, my legs are trembling from pleasure and i’m moaning and on the verge of tears. “i can’t get enough of this sweet pretty pussy…it’s all fucking mine” he growls before dipping his head back in and sucking harsher on my clit while violently shoving his ring and middle finger into me at a constant pace “Who’s pussy is this” he snarls into my pussy “mph- i-it’s” i can’t even speak from my brain being fogged by the amount of pleasure im receiving from matt’s mouth and lengthy fingers “your so dumb on my fingers” he chuckles before i knew it his fingers were in me even faster, a pornographic moan left my lips at his actions “who’s pussy is this Y/N” he grabs my throat while maintaining a constant pace.

“y-yours” i strain out

he smiles “My good girl.. you listen so well to me”

i moan in response as my legs began to tremble harder then they have before. matt chuckles before taunting me “is my cumslut close?” all i can do is moan and nod “nu uh none of that, use ur words” he spits “y-yes sir.. so close” he laughs “aww too bad ur not cumming” i wine in response as my legs began to give me away and let him know how close i really am “are you cumming” he growls while looking lustfully with those beautiful blue eyes “n-no s-sir” i stutter out

Slap

i moan at his rough yet gentle slap against my cheek “Are you cumming Y/N?”

i wine and moan before slowly and raspy answering “n-n-no”

Slap

another firm but gentle slap on my cheek “beg for it”

“mph- p-please sir… please”

he chuckles “harder. beg me harder” while using his thumb to toy at my sensitive bud

a loud pornographic moan escapes my lips “ple- please let me cum.. s-s-so close”

“cum” was all he had to say before i completely let go and squirted on his arm, his hand, our shared bed, anything in the way was absolutely soaked

as i rode out my high matt let out soft praises such as ‘that’s it’ ‘you’re doing amazing’. when i came i came HARD and it was euphoric

“i’m not done with you” my eyes widen and he smirked at my response

“w-what” i said with a rasp in my voice “t-too s-sensitive.. i-i can’t take it”

he smiles “you can and you will.. butterfly is your safe word.. use it wisely..understand me?”

i nodded but that wasn’t enough

Slap

“i said.. understand?”

“y-yes sir” i smiled at his harshness, i know it’s the wrong time to say this but fuck.. i absolutely love this side of matt… it was a completely different side of him but i was absolutely enjoying every single second of it.

he flipped me over by my waist so my head was in the pillow and my ass was in the air with my back arched, i softly hummed in response. matt took his shirt and pants off along with his underwear in one swift motion and started slowly stroking his cock with his hand. i slowly looked over at him, his cock was red and throbbing, needing to be touched with its leaking pre-cum, obviously he caught me staring at his throbbing cock.

“on second thought, get on ur knees right now” he smirked

i nodded and got off the bed and walked towards his direction and was immediately greeted by matt who forcefully brought me to my knees infront of his cock.

“suck” was the only thing that left his mouth before i opened my mouth and kitty licked his throbbing and aching tip letting a groan out from him “stop that and use that pretty mouth of yours to please me instead of teasing me” i continued to kitty lick his tip while licking from his base to his tip which didn’t seem to make him happy as he grabbed my head and pushed it to where my nose was touching his pelvis and making me gag and a long loud groan left his lips “mm i’m gonna cum down ur slutty throat” i moan around his cock using the vibrations to create more pleasure for matt, as now he’s a groaning mess as i’m bobbing my head up and down his thick cock.

“j-just like that” he groans out

i continue my work and occasionally deep throating his entire cock down my throat sticking my tongue out a little to create a deeper feel.

“mmph im so close Y/N”

i hallow my cheeks and bob my head around the tip of his cock using my hand to twist and go up and down on the base and the parts that don’t fit in my mouth for a few minutes before a long moan and slight whimper comes out of his mouth and his warm cum shoots down my throat.

he helps me up before throwing me back on the bed with my feed dangling off the bed with my ass in the air and face in the mattress, and before i knew it he toys with my clit using the tip of his cock causing my hips to jerk forward.

“ooo so the slut likes her little sensitive clit being played with” he teases

“please fuck me” i plead

“hm? what’s that” matt says obviously playing dumb

“please fuck me.. i need ur cock deep in me please”

he rams it into me no time to adjust to his size or girth immediately bottoming out leaving me speechless.

“mmm fuck ur pussy was made for me eh?” he groans thrusting his hips deep and hard into me kissing my cervix and touching my G-spot all at the same time causing my eyes to roll back and a loud moan escaping my lips which was muffled by the mattress.

he grabs a wad of my hair and pulling me up to his chest while still absolutely destroying my pussy before a growling in my ear “say this pussy was made for me..” he starts “feel me filling you up so fucking good” i moan louder almost screaming at this point “i-it w-was m-made for you” another moan spilling out of my lips as he thrusts almost deeper in me.

he pushes my body back down and pressing my face into the mattress leaving me a moaning mess.

“such a fucking slut for me huh? you like being used like a fuck toy? my personal fuck toy? you like that?” he thrust became faster and harder at the same time. the sounds spilling out of me louder then i can control, i can’t even answer with my eyes in the back of my head and my mouth wide open with moans escaping my lips

“is my little cock whore dumb on my cock? hm? can’t even speak?” screams and cry’s of pleasure leak out of my mouth as i’m approaching another orgasm.

“are you close baby?” his voice softens in my ear as he begins to attack my neck with dark hickies

i nod “y-yes yes yes.. p-please let me cum”

he hums “go on come on my cock baby, you can do it”

he thrusts as hard and deep as he can as i squirted all over his cock and again he’s still thrusting in me

“give me one more baby, you can do it” he says in almost a whisper in my ear before flipping me over with my legs on his shoulders and leaning over me looking down at me with his eyes glued to mine and occasionally looking down at my red pussy from how many times i’ve came undone to him tonight.

he presses his hand on my lower stomach causing me to roll my eyes back and tears start forming in my eyes as i become overstimulated.

“can you feel me right here baby?” he growls down at me. i can’t answer him without stuttering, im trying to speak but the only thing leaving my lips are moans

Slap

a soft yet gentle slap against my cheek once again.

“i asked you a question.. answer it” he snarls

“y-yes!” i scream out in pleasure

“mmm fuck i’m gonna cum so deep in your fucking tight pussy” he groans out

leaving me a moaning mess beneath him he grabs my face forcing me to look at him

“look at me when i cum in you.. we’re gonna cum together okay?” his voice softens

i moan in response but still softly and harshly answer “y-yes”

his thrusts become sloppy and harder as he gets closer to his high and i get closer to mine i become more louder lifting my back off the bed trying to maintain eye contact with matt.

“cum” he says in a harsh but soft voice i came undone beneath him as i squirted again all over his cock and all over the bed as he groans and releases in me while slowly pulling out trying not to hurt me as i collapse on the bed with him next to me as he turns to look at me with soft blue eyes.

“i wasn’t too harsh on you was i?” he states with a soft yet gentle tone

i smile “absolutely not.. i loved that.. and i love you”

“i love you more Y/N/N” he starts “now lets go get a bath going and we’ll come back and cuddle”

he picks me up bridal style to run us a bath as he carefully sits me down he gets right behind me kissing my neck softly

“you know if you woulda just asked i woulda done that a long time ago..” he chuckles softly

i smile while leaning against his back “i’m sorry i waited so long i just know how gentle you are with me so i didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable about being so aggressive with me”

he rubs his hand up and down my arm “i know but not gonna lie i enjoyed that a lot.. i mean a LOT” he smiles down at me

��considering my legs are still trembling i can say i didn’t just enjoy it.. i absolutely loved that matt” i softly say with a smile plastered on my lips

he kisses my cheek “from now on anything you wanna try i will not hesitate to try it”

“deal” i say with a smile kissing his soft lips

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N pt 2- SOOO HOW DID WE LIKE THIS? i got a little carried away.. BUT THIS WAS SM FUN TO WRITE!!! i’m cooking up a chris version for this maybe.. 🤫🤫🤫

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 22

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 22

I might have something. You’re going to hate it. Meet to discuss?

Far from the confident lead he’d hoped for, but that’s the text he got from Duke earlier that evening. He tried to tease more information out of him, but the kid was adamant about discussing things face to face. Suspicious, but a fair request given the nature of their work. It was smarter not to talk about it over text if they could help it.

Jason still wasn’t happy about it though.

They planned to meet on the street near a safehouse located in the heart of his territory. Duke arrived in street clothes, torn jeans with an old puffer coat thrown over his hoodie. A smart move now that the sun had gone down. The yellow suit was bound to attract the wrong attention, and Jason didn’t need rumors swirling around that Red Hood was letting the Bats run amuck in Crime Alley.

Jason dropped down from where he stood watch on the roof, the hiss of his grapple gun still ringing in his ears. Duke, to his credit, didn’t even flinch. In fact, he’d never seen him more at ease than he was now, dressed as a civilian.

“This better be good.”

Duke rubbed his shorn hair. “Hey, Duke, how are you?” He said, doing what Jason could only assume was a bad impression his Jersey drawl. “Oh, ya know, same old, same old. Stopped a bank robbery the other day. Saved some kids from a burning building this morning. Oh, and I got the final hit on a Gelatinous Cube at D&D. No big. Just the highlight of my week.”

Jason crossed his arms. “I would be more impressed if it was a Beholder.”

He balked. “No way. You play?”

“Not in a while,” he said with a shrug, “Let me guess? Cleric?”

“Artificer, actually,” Duke said as he shoved his hands on his pockets, “Barbarian for you?”

“Bard.”

“Oh?”

Yeah, he expected that wide-eyed expression. He would assume he played the angry brawler class. At the very least, he wanted people to guess he played a gunslinger, but no, he would forever be the angry guy. Bullshit. Bards were infinitely more fun.

“I didn’t come here to discuss TTRPGs with you.”

“Right,” Duke said slowly, “Okay, well, let me start by saying that none of this is my fault. I was doing exactly what you asked of me and, ya know, things kinda spiraled out of hand from there.”

He narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t a promising start. “Okay?”

“But the good news is we found something.”

Hold up. Pause. Rewind.

“We? Who the fuck is we?” Deep down, Jason already knew the answer to his question, but he foolishly clung to the hope that Duke teamed up with an amiable rogue instead.

“We are a team.”

Jason swore under his breath as Tim, in all his Robin glory, hit the ground beside Duke.

“It’s been a while,” he said with a thin smile.

“Not long enough,” he shot back, “Whatever you know, forget it. I can do this alone like I should have from the start.”

“You see, that’s the problem with Leos.”

He resisted the urge to scream when Steph pulled up behind him, a swagger in her step and a pinch around her eyes that betrayed the smile hidden beneath her mask. This was precisely why he didn’t want to ask for help. This was quickly becoming a ‘family’ affair.

“Stubborn pride always comes back to bite you in the end. That was your horoscope, FYI. Be wary of pride. It keeps you from the goal at the end of a long road. A little on the nose given the situation, but eh.” She slung an arm around his shoulders. “No one said that horoscopes were subtle.”

Jason shoved her off, a growl ripping from his throat. “I gave Signal permission to come into my territory. You two are breaking an agreement.” His hand fell to his gun. “Scram before I start shooting.”

“Tt.”

His eye twitched.

Damian appeared around his other side with his hood drawn low over his eyes, though it failed to hide the general arrogance that permeated the air wherever he went. “First, you do not shoot that ruffian Blood Knuckle all those months ago, now you’re making idle threats against us. You are embarrassing yourself, crime lord.”

Jason had enough self-restraint not to punt a child halfway across Gotham, even if the snot deserved a swift kick in the ass. Instead, he turned his ire on Duke, who was now the odd man out in his street clothes. “What the fuck, Narrows? I told you I didn’t want to ask the others for help.”

Duke choked on a laugh. “Yeah, okay. You thought I could keep this to myself without the others finding out? First off, we’re detectives trained by Batman, world’s greatest detective.”

“Allegedly,” Steph cut in.

“Second, Oracle tracks my patrol routes. She knew something was up the second I crossed into your territory. Have you ever been grilled by her? I’m normally pretty good under pressure, but with her, I folded faster than an umbrella during a hurricane.”

“From there, I looped in Robin,” Babs' voice fed into his ear. Jason should have expected her to listen in. She had tabs on his vitals for Christ’s sake.

“I told Spoiler,” Tim said helpfully.

“And I informed Orphan,” Steph piped up, “She’s on a Bird’s of Prey mission tonight, otherwise she’d be here too. She was sad to miss it, but I promised to give her a play-by-play later.”

“That still doesn’t explain why the demon brat is here?”

“Tt.”

“We’re working on a case together,” Steph said as if it were obvious, “That’s what happens when you work a team, but when Rob told me he was talking to you tonight, I dropped everything to be here. Since I knew the brat would follow me anyway, I clued him in on what was happening.”

Jason chewed the inside of his cheek. “So, does everyone know?”

“Nightwing is out of the country,” Babs offered, the click of her keys accompanying her voice, “No point in telling him until he gets back.”

But she still planned on telling him.

Lovely.

Damian crossed his arms. “It was also agreed on by the others that Batman would not be involved.”

At least there was a silver lining.

He turned to Duke—the only one he wanted to hear from—to pose his next question. “What did—”

Duke raised his hand, effectively cutting him off, and walked back the way he came. “Nuh uh. I did my part. See something, say something, and all that noise. I just came to facilitate this messy family reunion, and now, I’m off the clock. I have a math test to study for and a lot of sleep to catch up on. You’re on your own from here.”

“You can forget about me helping with your college essays.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Duke shot back.

Jason reeled. The gall of this kid. “I mean it.”

“Sure, ya do, man.”

Predictably, Duke called his bluff. Refusing to help him would take more self-respect than Jason realistically had. He buried his helmet in his hand and muttered, “I’ve been bamboozled.”

Steph snorted. “Who says bamboozled unironically?”

“Like it’s hard to pull a fast one over you,” Tim said.

Jason swung. Tim easily dodged the first punch but missed the second fist that connected with his gut. He doubled over, face turning an impressive shade of purple as he swallowed his grunt. It was mollifying to see, but a broken nose would have been infinitely more satisfying.

He leaned down to growl in his ear, “That was for telling her about the letters.”

“Do you feel better now?” he wheezed.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good.” Tim knocked him off his feet with a quick swipe of his leg. He landed heavily on his shoulder, knocking the wind out of him. “So, do I, and that was just because I wanted to.” He offered his hand to help him up.

Jason knocked it away and grappled to his feet. He gave his shoulder an experimental roll, wincing when it twinged.

“Pathetic,” Damian scoffed, “You could have drawn blood at least.”

Tim shot him a warning look before continuing, “Now that we’ve gotten that out of our system, we can move onto the matter at hand. If you’ll come back to the cave, we can—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable,” Jason echoed, “Reasonable. This is my case. I went to Signal because I wanted to avoid this becoming a Batman issue. That’s exactly what’ll happen if I step foot into that cave. Black Mask isn’t worth it.”

“You enlisted help for Black Mask?” Damian didn’t even try to hide the judgement in his tone.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. At least, I have an archnemesis.”

Steph pulled down her mask to reveal her grimace. “Yeesh. Are you really winning if you consider him your archnemesis? I thought you had a higher standard than that.”

Jason gave her a dead-eyed stare. “Black Mask nearly killed you.”

“Hood,” Babs snapped in his ear, “Uncalled for.”

Her expression shuttered, the usual sunshine and rainbows giving way to something much darker as a sardonic smile slid across her face. Too many teeth and not nearly enough whimsy. It was a jarring change to witness, but at least he knew Steph had her demons like the rest of them.

“Like I said, standards,” she said as she replaced her face mask, “You don’t see me walking around calling him my archnemesis.”

They were getting off track. The sooner he got the information. The sooner he could kick them out of his territory and move on with his life. “No Batcave. No Batman. We can talk in my safehouse if you want to do this somewhere else.”

Tim shrugged. “Fine.”

“Pass,” Damian said as he turned on his heel, “I thought this was going to be more interesting than our usual bickering and dallying. Are you coming, Spoiler?”

“Nah, I wanna see how this pans out.” Some pep returned to her voice as she planted a hand on her hip. “I’ll catch you back at the cave, and we can compare notes.”

“Suit yourself. Let me know if a real fight breaks out between them. Only then will it be worth my time.” He didn’t deign to say goodbye and hurried off into the night, the soles of his boots noiseless against the pavement. Jason was relieved to see him go. There was only so much he could take before he snapped.

“So, are we doing this or not?”

Tim motioned for him to lead the way.

His safehouse was a short walk from the alley, a one-bedroom in what was otherwise a condemned apartment building. In a lot of ways, it reminded him of where he grew up. Cracked plaster revealed the brick beneath. Floorboards that squeaked when he walked on them. Some spots softer than others under his heavy boots.

“Please tell me you don’t live here full-time,” Steph said as she took in the bare walls and scant, cheap furniture. Her gaze snagged on the small succulent decorating the counter, eyes narrowing. “This is depressing, even for you.”

“Again. I didn’t ask for your opinion.” He tugged off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “Alright. We’re alone. Tell me what you found.”

Tim pulled a tablet from the depths of his cape. Where did he hide it? No clue. Jason decided it was better not to ask questions he didn’t want the answers to. With his eyes glued to the screen, he said, “I think we might be investigating the same case.”

“How do you figure that?”

“We have to turn back the clock a bit before we get to that,” he said as he swiped absently through several tabs on his tablet, “Context first. Over the summer, we discovered a series of break-ins at Wayne-owned warehouses at Gotham harbor. Chemicals were stolen. You caught me reviewing surveillance footage that night.”

It took Jason a second to piece together what he was referring to. Did he mean the night he broke into Wayne Enterprises? That had to be it. He thought it was weird to find Tim there. If he’d pressed a little harder, he might have found a lead sooner.

“What components were stolen?”

“Ones used to make fear toxin.”

Jason blinked. “Scarecrow?”

“Except it wasn’t him. He’s been locked in Arkham since last year, and that hasn’t changed. He’s also not known for employing henchmen, but this wouldn’t be the first time another rogue got their hands on fear toxin without Crane being involved.” He flipped his screen around to show Jason. Two men in nondescript black clothes approached the warehouse before the video went fuzzy. “For all our state-of-the-art technology, they managed to circumvent the cameras, and we found very little at the scene of the crime. I’ll admit, it was a clean job save for this bit of video.”

Huh. Much like Bruce, he saw the world through a fractured lens riddled with imperfections. Using those imperfections, Tim could draw conclusions. It was always about what was broken and how he could fix it. If he was commending them for a job well done, that meant something.

“And how does that connect to my case? The harbor doesn’t fall within my territory last I checked.”

“Maybe not, but the goods were moved several times,” Babs cut in.

The screen progressed as she remoted into his tablet. Green blips appeared on a street view of Jason’s territory. “They stayed to the periphery of your territory, but one veered too close and caught your attention.”

A final blip appeared in red. He recognized it immediately. It was the surveillance mission he botched. Luca had said that was part of a trail of breadcrumbs left by Mask to keep Hood off his trail.

But…

He never got around to checking the goods inside the warehouse. “A warehouse belonging to Mask full of lifted chemicals,” he breathed.

“Chemicals that you left behind,” Tim stressed as if Jason wasn’t feeling bad enough, “Paving the way for Black Mask to do as he pleased with them. Nice work.”

“Oh, cut the guy some slack. He fully intended to blow the place to high hell.” Steph sidled into the kitchen to pick up the succulent, studying it closely. Jason resisted the urge to rip it from her hands. “Why didn’t you blow it to high hell again?”

He didn’t owe them an explanation. “So, what are you saying? That fear toxin is some new wonder drug on the street?” It sounded absurd when he said it out loud. “I don’t believe it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tim scoffed.

Jason ran his fingers through his hair. “How am I the ridiculous one here?”

“Everyone knows about the harmful side effects of fear toxin in a more concentrated dose,” Tim continued with his usual air of superiority, “But microdosing seems to be the fad. People crave the rush of adrenaline that comes with fear.”

“Sounds like you would know that from experience?”

Tim merely shrugged, neither confirming nor denying the claim.

“I don’t believe you,” Jason reiterated as he snatched the succulent from Steph’s hands, returning it to its rightful place on the counter. Her pout went ignored as he continued, “I’m the drug guy. I would know if—”

His phone started vibrating in his back pocket, nearly giving him a heart attack. It didn’t usually ring. Not unless… He pulled it out, seeing your name on the screen. The corner of his mouth twitched up into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Woah, what the hell was that?”

The smile dropped. “What was what?”

“That thing you just did with your face right now. Was that a smile?” Steph pinched his cheek, scrutinizing his face. “Were you just smiling at your phone? I didn’t know you knew how to do that?”

 Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “Steph.”

“Excuse me for taking an interest in his life. You should try it some time. Maybe if you do, he’ll stop acting like no one likes him.” She popped onto her toes to look at his phone. He tried to hide it, but he wasn’t fast enough for her discerning gaze. A sharp breath passed through her teeth. “That bitch. She told me she wasn’t seeing you.”

He shooed her away as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey?”

“I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like this. Are you in the middle of something?”

You sounded off, your voice brittle as if you were holding back tears. He glanced back at the other two before saying, “No.”

The line crackled with your whimper. “No, you’re busy. I knew it. I’m sorry. I interrupted you, didn’t I? Never mind. It was st—”

“Woah, woah.” He lowered his voice, turning his back on the others. “No need to freak out on me, lovebug. You don’t have to apologize. I can talk. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

It was hard not to jump to the worst-case scenario with an answer like that, but he tried to keep his voice steady. “Do you need me to come get you?”

“Please.”

You could have asked him to walk barefoot over a bed of rusty nails and he would have done so in a heartbeat. Forget the case. Forget Tim and Steph. If you needed him, he’d drop everything to ensure you were alright. Even over the phone, he could tell something was wrong.

“Hold tight.” He shrugged off his leather jacket, “Ten minutes tops.”

He hung up, feeling the weight of judgement on his back. Tim gave him an indecipherable look before turning his attention back to his tablet. Probably stowing this moment away to use against him later. There was no escaping a comment from Steph.

“Lovebug?” she asked, “That’s adorable.”

He flushed. Pet names weren’t really his style, but it came out as if it were the most natural thing. Lovebug, of all things. That would not stick if he could help it.

“Shut up,” he said as he grabbed a hoodie draped over the back of his futon and threw it over his head. “I need to go.”

“We’re not done,” Tim deadpanned.

“I know that. I’ll be back, but I need to—” Fuck it. He didn’t owe them an explanation here either. He unbuckled his holsters and left them on the counter as he passed. “Give me a half hour. We can pick up where we left when I get back.”

But for now, he only had one thing on his mind. You.

***

He arrived outside the opera ten minutes later, an impressive feat given it was usually a twenty-minute drive from his safehouse. You sat on the curb with a young man with shaggy blonde hair that flopped down into his eyes. Jason threw down the kickstand and killed the engine. The blonde looked up as he tugged off his helmet (a completely normal helmet—Jason wasn’t dense enough to ride up in full Red Hood gear), giving him a clearer view of his face.

Jason had to do a double take.

That kid from the warehouse—Evan—was currently sitting on the curb… with you. He wasn’t sure what to make of this situation as he slid off his bike and approached, hiding his initial surprise behind something more neutral.

You hid your face in your arms. The yellow jacket draped over your shoulders. You shivered despite it.

He crouched in front of you. “Hey, lovebug.”

Again, it just kind of slipped out, and it still didn’t feel quite right. Luckily, you were too out of it to notice his bland attempts at affection. He tried again, “What happened?”

Finally, you dragged your gaze toward him. He swallowed his gasp. Your pupils eclipsed your irises, creating an abyss of black that unsettled him. You searched for the words, eyes darting back and forth as if they floated in the air over his head. In the end, you gave up and buried your face in your arms once more.

Evan leaned in and whispered, “Is this Jacob?”

“That’d be me, kid. You staying out of trouble these days?” A dumb question, he realized a second too late, but it had already left his lips. Jacob had never met Evan before tonight, and knew nothing about his rough past, but Red Hood was more invested in his wellbeing. Obviously, something was going right for him if he was here.

With you.

He couldn’t quite get over that.

It was funny how small the world could be.

Evan gave him a once over, taking in the beaten combat boots and the scars on his face. “Are you?”

Touche. Jason let the topic drop. “Do you know what happened?”

“Everything was fine. I was running around in the main dining room while she was working in the executive lounge with the top donors. She mentioned they were a bunch of freaks before the party started. I thought she was pulling my leg until I heard a scream. She ran from the room, and I didn’t see her for ten minutes. I found her in the bathroom on the verge of a panic attack, but she claims she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Did she drink anything?” Jason turned back to you. “Did you drink anything?”

You shook your head.

“Did you eat anything?”

Another shake of your head.

“What about—”

“Enough.” Evan shifted in front of you as if Jason wasn’t at least a head taller and twice as wide. “She’s clearly overwhelmed. Stop grilling her like she’s in an interrogation room.”

Jason withdrew like a scolded child. That was exactly what he was doing, and he failed to temper the shame that burned his cheeks. It was hard not to be in detective mode when faced with a situation like this. While it was possible you’d come down with something, it seemed more complicated than a stomach bug.

“What about you? Are you feeling weird?”

He fidgeted under his discerning gaze. “I’m fine.”

As it stood, you weren’t in any state to be alone. He’d have to take you back to his place. Where Tim and Steph were currently waiting for him. An inevitable cross-section of various aspects of his life stood in front of him, and it made him viscerally ill to consider. Jason couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“Do you feel comfortable going with me?”

“Yeah,” you managed after a second.

That was progress. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded. Evan scooted away, albeit reluctantly, allowing Jason to wrap an arm around your waist. He helped you to your feet and led you over to his motorcycle. Evan followed a few steps behind, distrust for Jason plain on his face.

“Are you taking her back to her place?” he pressed, “Not yours, right?”

Jason didn’t appreciate the insinuation in his tone. Despite an appearance that suggested otherwise, he would never take advantage of you. Evan might not know that, but come on, kid. Jason was clearly worried about you too. “That’s none of your business. Why would she call me if she didn’t feel safe with me?”

“Well, you weren’t the first person she called.”

He nearly tripped over his own feet. Ouch. That was the last thing he needed to hear right now, but he tried not to let the pain show on his face as he grabbed a second helmet from the bag on the back of his bike.

“Evan, I appreciate you looking out for me, but you can leave him alone,” you pleaded, seeming to find your words to rise to his defense, “I trust him and that’s all you need to know.”

“But—”

“Evan, thank you.”

You patted his cheek with a sort of maternal affection. He didn’t shy away from it like he would expect from a broody teenager. Jason felt a pang of sympathy for the kid. From one touch-starved kid to another, he knew all too well how nice it felt to be doted on.

“Really, I appreciate your concern, but not tonight.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his gaze shifting between Jason and the motorcycle. Everything about Jason probably reminded him of the life he wanted to leave behind. It was good the kid found someone like you to encourage him. A good influence.

God knows, it was never going to be him.

Evan shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll send you a text later. Feel better.” With that, he trudged back into the opera house.

Once he disappeared, you placed a hand on his chest and said, “I called Steph first. Didn’t want to bother you.”

Shame hollowed his chest. He shouldn’t have let Evan get in his head like that, but the thought of becoming your second choice terrified him. “You’re never a bother. You don’t need to explain yourself, hon.” Better, but still not quite right. He pressed a quick kiss to your hairline before placing the helmet on your head. “I’m going to take you back to my place. Is that okay?”

“Your place?”

“I have some company at the moment.”

Your eyes widened through the tinted glass.

“The good kind.” Though good was relative in this case. He would have preferred to introduce you to one of his henchmen instead. Most of them were good guys. Well, outside of the drug trafficking part of the gig. “Is that alright? I didn’t want to blindside you.”

“It’s fine,” you said as you shoved your arms through the sleeves of your jacket, “I was the one who interrupted you.”

Jason swallowed his argument, knowing you’d be rehashing the same issue. You weren’t in the right headspace to hear him when he said this wasn’t an inconvenience. He replaced his helmet and activated his comm. “Oracle, I’m on my way back now. Can you let the others know to mask up if they’ve gotten comfortable. I’ll—” He glanced back. Your hands shook as you struggled with your zipper. He held your hands to steady them and helped you guide the pieces together. You managed to zip it yourself once they were fitted together. “I’m bringing a civilian back with me.”

Her beat of silence spoke volumes. “And you think that’s wise?”

“It’s my safehouse. I can bring back whoever I please.”

She sighed. “Alright. I’ll relay the message.”

“Thank you.”

The drive back passed in veritable silence. No wandering hands, though he felt the consistent tremor that you tried to hide by pressing your palms flat against his torso. No coy smiles, no sarcastic quips, just brittle exhales feeding into his ear when he took a side street a scooch too fast. He slowed considerably to avoid scaring you.

It was unnerving to see you like this. Jason didn’t know how to describe it, only that it wasn’t right. When he pulled up outside his place, you slipped off the bike and removed your helmet.

You rubbed your palms together as he dismounted. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think,” you said carefully as you took in the crumbling brick building in front of you, “The fresh air helped. My vision is a little...” You blinked a few times. “Shadows are more pronounced than usual, I guess.”

That failed to ease his conscience, but he would press the issue later, when you were more like yourself. He pressed your hands between his palms. They were colder than a shard of ice. He kissed your fingertips. “I'll wrap this up quickly, but once I’m done, we can talk about what happened tonight. If you want to talk about it, that is.”

You’d shown him grace with his secrets. He could do the same for you. “I don’t expect you to drop everything for me. This was more than enough, so take your time. I can survive now that you’re nearby.”

You had no idea how much that meant to him. Knowing you found his presence comforting made his heart swell. “I’ll get you comfortable first.”

Or as comfortable as you could get in his place.

He led you inside, up three flights of stairs until you reached his one-bedroom. The other two sat at the table, still masked up, much to his relief. Tim sat backwards in his chair with his chin resting on the back, snoozing. Typical. You didn’t balk as Jason ushered you inside. Not like Steph who openly stared after you, her concern evident as you stumbled in the dim light.

Way to be obvious.

Jason waved her off, hoping it conveyed that he had things handled as he led you into his bedroom. For once, he was grateful for his minimalist lifestyle. His bedroom was mostly clean save for a few articles of clothing littering the floor, but at least it didn’t smell. His bed was also made—likely because he’d been sustaining himself on naps at your place over the last few days.

You settled at the foot of the bed, a quick sweep of your gaze all you offered his place. Jason kneeled in front of you. “Do you need water? A blanket?”

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not made of glass. Like I said, I feel better already.”

You looked better, a bit of the color returning to your cheeks. He still had a lot of questions. Ones you might not have the answer to, and the uncertainty sat poorly with him. Unsure of what else to do, he kissed your hairline again. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be with, uh...”

“Robin and Spoiler,” you said, your tone unreadable.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I might have been more concerned to see Batman.”

It was a bland attempt at a joke, but it made him feel slightly better about leaving you alone for a little bit. “Be back in a little bit.” He stood and returned to the kitchen.

Steph rose from her chair. “Is she okay?”

“Unclear,” he admitted as he closed the door firmly behind him, “She’s better than she was when I found her. It’ll pass, whatever it is.” He lowered his voice and added, “She tried calling you first, FYI, but you were here instead, living for the drama. Was it worth it?”

She lowered her gaze, ashamed. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t. You made your choice, and I made mine. She’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.” Jason kicked Tim’s chair as he passed. “Rise and shine, princess.”

He jolted awake. Drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Wiping it away with the back of his hand, he straightened, “I was awake.”

“Sure, ya were.” Jason leaned casually against the counter with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “So, where were we? Fear toxin on the streets, right? That’s bullshit. I would know if there was a new drug on the market.”

“Only you wouldn’t because it isn’t starting in your territory,” Tim said, almost bored.

“And you would know that how?”

“Because it’s not,” Babs chimed in, this time through the tablet. A pixelated image of the Oracle sprite appeared on the screen, casting a sickly green glow across their faces.

Jason was suddenly in the Lazarus Pit, electric green as far as the eye could see as the pool worked its magic. Fitting his broken bones back together and making him whole again. It was as painful as it sounded. He looked away, shoving the memory away as she continued.

“Instead of starting on the streets and working their way up to more influential circles, it appears Mask decided to start from the top and work his way down.”

“I witnessed it in a real time the other week when I attended a party with Br—” Steph elbowed him sharply in the side and nodded to the closed door that led into Jason’s bedroom. It was unlikely that you were eavesdropping, but he’d been wrong before.

Tim licked his teeth and amended, “Some guests partook. They dip cigarette paper in fear toxin and smoke it with their tobacco or weed. It’s the smoke that doles out a hit. Leave it to the ultra-wealthy to get a kick out of experiencing fear.”

“Ironic,” Jason grunted, “Has anyone informed them that all they need to do is look out their windows to see the horrors of the world? Or is that too rustic for their tastes?”

Steph shuddered. “Rich people are the worst.”

“Not all rich people partake,” Tim mumbled sourly.

“Still rich. Still a pain in my ass.” Jason shoved off the counter. “You heard Oracle. What happens when small-time dealers catch wind of it and start distributing it on the streets. They’ll make dupes or cut it with other shit that makes it more dangerous.” A headache prickled at his temples just thinking about it. That would make a mess of his operation, for sure. “How do we stop that from happening?”

“We find the man behind it. Black Mask.”

“Wow. Fantastic.” He deadpanned. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“But you didn’t have us before now,” Steph said in a tone that was surprisingly earnest, “We can help if you let us.”

Anyone else would have taken the olive branch she extended and moved one, but Jason was too proud to make things easy for himself. “Say I accepted your help. Hypothetically.” Steph and Tim shared a look but let him continue. “What would that entail?”

“A supplier would be a good place to start. There’s enough evidence to suggest that Black Mask is the Puppet Master, but we need to know how this new operation works. The sooner we find the suppliers, the sooner we can cut off the supply,” Babs said, her sprite flickering as if the mouth were moving with her words, “While the paper isn’t as potent as the original recipe, the drug is still a liability if bystanders inhale smoke secondhand. They’ll feel the effects all the same, creating a ripple effect you don’t see in other drugs on the market.”

“What are the effects?”

Tim said, “Paranoia, mild hallucinations, elevated heartrate, the usual schtick you see with fear toxin, just milder. It’s still—”

“Are you saying I was unwittingly dosed with fear toxin tonight?”

You stood in the door that had been closed seconds ago. Jason swore he stopped breathing. You threw an old hoodie over your clothes with the hood drawn. He swallowed thickly, trying not to fixate on the fact you were wearing his clothes and instead on the matter at hand.

“Come again?”

“Tonight. While I was working, Delilah Cadwell—her friend blew smoke in my face. I thought it was a cigarette but those side effects that you described were exactly what I experienced.” You stepped further into the room, undaunted by the masked vigilantes sitting at the table. In fact, you spared them little more than a glance as you went on, “There was fear toxin at the party tonight. It would explain why Delilah was acting weird and why I saw...”

You trailed off.

Jason had no idea what you saw, but he stepped forward to place a steadying hand on your back, captivated audience be damned. “Are you sure?”

“Hand-rolled cigarettes,” you stated soberly, “Delilah loves them, but they smelled off tonight. Like decay. If they’re dipping cigarette paper in toxin and smoking it, then yeah, I’m sure.”

So, you had been eavesdropping.

“You were dosed?” Tim grabbed his tablet. “What else can you tell us? Would you be willing to give us a sample of your bl—”

Jason stepped in front of you. “No one touches her.”

“Jacob, it’s fine.”

Steph and Tim shared a similar reaction, a small pinch to the eyebrows that betrayed their surprise. They missed a couple chapters in your relationship, but Jacob remained a constant since they last saw him with you. He didn’t need their judgement. He judged himself for letting this go on for as long as it had.

“You want a blood sample?” You pushed up your sleeves as you spoke. “If you think it’ll help, but I only got a puff to the face. Will it even register?”

Tim considered your question. “It should, even if your symptoms have passed. Are you encountering any residual side effects we should know about? Shortness of breath? Nerve spasms?”

“A little shaky,” you said, unnervingly calm for someone who just discovered they were drugged, “Shadows are darker.”

Tim nodded as his fingers flew across the screen. “That seems to coincide with the lingering side effects of fear toxin,” he noted absently, “Are you afraid of needles?”

Jason held up a hand before you could answer. “I'm not sticking her like a pin cushion. A blood sample isn’t going to do anything except satiate your little mad scientist brain, so let’s focus on the task at hand—finding a supplier. How do you propose we do that?”

Tim paused, his gaze falling back to you. “I think our connection is right in front of us.”

Steph curbed her surprise. “Robin, that’s reckless, even for you.”

“You work these parties. You’re intimately aware of the comings and goings of this crowd, yet your job allows you to witness the action from the outside. You would recognize something was amiss—if someone was amiss?”

Jason realized what Tim was hinting at. Involve you. He sputtered, “You want her to find the supplier. No. Not happening. She’s a civilian.”

“That’s for her to decide,” he insisted, “It’s not like I’m asking her to apprehend anyone. I think a tracker would suffice. One link inevitably leads to another, all the way up the chain.” He snapped. “And that’s how we find Black Mask.”

“I’m not putting her at risk.”

Tim leveled him with an unwavering stare. “You already have.”

Jason didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even though he made a valid point. Interacting with you puts you at risk. There was a reason vigilantes kept their identities a secret. The more you knew, the bigger the target on your back. He knew that, and he continued to see you anyway. Trying to keep you from helping now was hypocritical, but he also hated to watch you put yourself in harm’s way for his sake.

“We can stop talking as if I’m not here,” you said flatly, stepping around Jason to speak with Tim directly, “If you’re asking for my help, I accept. A supplier was likely there tonight, right under my nose. It’ll likely happen again, so why not make myself useful if I’m already on the field. I work at an art exhibition next week. If there was toxin at the opera, I bet it’ll also be at the art museum.”

“Fine, but you’re not doing it alone,” Jason conceded, “I’ll find a way to be there too. Undercover, or whatever.” That earned him a round of skeptical looks, even from you. He bristled. “Fine, I’ll go as myself. I can ask my buddy Tim Drake to get me in.”

A muscle in his jaw feathered. “That’ll make things messy.”

“I’m not sitting back and letting her handle something I should have nipped in the bud months ago.”

“I think that’s smart,” Babs piped in from the tablet.

You startled a little at the disembodied voice.

“Sorry to scare you.” Tim turned the tablet around to show Babs’ sprite again. “I’m Oracle. The eyes and ears of our operation. Don’t let them tell you any differently.”

“We would never,” Tim insisted.

“Ditto,” Steph piped in.

She ignored them. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you said, taking it in stride, “You want Jacob there.”

“Jacob,” Babs said his name sharper than she probably intended. He was never living this down. “Is perfectly capable and well-intentioned. A second set of hands isn’t necessarily a bad thing either. We don’t know who this supplier is or where they’ll be. Having two of you will ensure they don’t slip through our fingers this time.”

“Alright, fine.” you conceded as you took the tablet from Tim. He let you without argument. “What’s the plan?”

He swore the sprite smiled. “Have a seat and I’ll give you a crash course in vigilante.”

You settled in the empty chair beside Steph who had tucked her blonde hair more deliberately under her hood and pulled up her mask until her eyes were the only thing showing.

If you figured out her identity too, he was well and truly cooked. Steph as Spoiler would inevitably lead to you discovering Tim as Robin and so on until you pieced together Bruce Wayne as Batman.

Jason cleared his throat, “Robin, can I talk to you for a second?”

Tim followed him into his room, leaving you and Steph to hash out the details with Oracle. Once the door closed behind them, he began, “If you’re going to bitch about this, save your breath, I have better—”

“I want something in return for this.”

He lifted his chin. “I wasn’t aware I owed you a favor. If anything, you owe me for that one time I helped you get a foundation off the ground to—”

“Do you know how to shut your trap and listen for five seconds?”

“When people deserve it.”

Jason resisted the urge to throttle him. “There’s a showcase at the end of the month at the Gotham Gazette for a writing competition. I need you to make sure Bruce is there.”

Tim’s lips puckered. “Why?”

He averted his gaze. “You know why. Don’t make me say it.”

“Are you sure you want to do that? I can see this blowing up, every pun intended, in your face if she decides to talk Bruce.”

“You think I don’t know that? I know what could happen and how it could all go wrong.” And maybe he wanted it all to go wrong. It would be the push he needed to finally tell you the truth because he was too much of a coward to broach the subject himself.

“But it would mean a lot to her if he was there, even if he isn’t the one who’s... you know. He’s still paying for her technically, so it matters, even if I’m the one she’s writing to.”

“I told you this was stupid.”

He inclined his head. “But?”

Tim sighed. “I’ll make sure Nadine puts it on his calendar.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tim sniffed, “I think you’re making a mistake, but you’re too whipped to realize it.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

But he was in too deep.

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

A/N: This is the longest chapter I've written for this fic thus far, but I had a lot of personalities to fit into one space. I missed Tim. Glad I could bring him back.

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

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[steveseddie]

shootin’ hoops

steddie | rated: t | cw: none | 4,6k | tags: eddie munson lives, but his clumsy ass gets hurt, worried steve, minor injuries, sharing clothes, first kiss

for my stficbingo prompt: “‘m just tired.”

click here to read on ao3

***

Eddie has always known basketball is evil. 

Over the years, he’s been smacked in the back of the head by plenty of basketballs, or smacked elsewhere by the dumb jocks that play the game. Only a few weeks ago, he was being chased by Jason Carver and his band of basketball-playing goons. 

So, basketball. Evil.

Eddie knew this, and somehow, he still agreed to “shoot hoops” with Steve Harrington.

Him! Eddie Munson! Agreeing to play the stupid game where you toss balls into laundry baskets! All because of his stupid crush on a boy.

If any of his friends could see him now, they would kick him out of the band and dethrone him as their Hellfire leader. 

Well, no. First, they would laugh at Eddie- currently starfished on the Harringtons’ basketball court having knocking himself out after the ball he threw missed the hoop completely, slammed against the board and bounced back straight into Eddie’s face.

Then and only then, after laughing themselves into a coughing fit at Eddie’s expense, would they kick him out and dethrone him. Can’t have your fearless leader succumbing to forced conformity or whatever. 

Luckily for Eddie, there’s no one here to witness how the mighty have fallen. 

Well. No one but Steve, the guy he’s pretty sure he’s in love with which is fucking great.

When he agreed to play, after Steve pleaded, pouted and hit Eddie with those deadly puppy eyes, he told himself it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d get to ogle Steve in his tiny little shorts, trick Steve into putting his hands on him to show him the right way to throw a ball and maybe even score a goal and shit and get a proud grin from Steve, maybe even a high five or a hug. 

But all Eddie has managed so far is to sweat through his clothes (Steve’s clothes actually- a pair of basketball shorts and an old Hawkins High swim meet shirt because the long sleeve and the ripped jeans Eddie showed up in weren’t basketball appropriate) and embarrass himself by getting hit square in the face by an evil basketball, probably giving himself a concussion in the process. 

Because- fucking ouch! His head is pounding right now.

Through the ringing in his ears, he hears Steve’s sneakers squeak against the court as he jogs towards him. “Eddie, Jesus Christ!” He gasps, dropping to his knees next to him. “Fuck, man, are you okay?” 

Eddie groans when he hears the concern in Steve’s voice. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Eddie knows he’s flushing bright red and it’s not because of the midday sun beating down on them. 

“Eddie, come on. Talk to me, man,” Steve urges, slightly shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Just leave me here to die,” Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes tightly shut, partly because moving his face hurts, but also because he doesn’t want to look at Steve right now. 

Steve huffs, shaking Eddie’s shoulder a little more insistently. “Nope, no way. I didn’t drag your ass back from the Upside Down to let you die here. Sit up, come on.” 

He tugs on Eddie’s arm, leaving him no choice but to sit up. Eddie hugs his knees against his chest, still not opening his eyes. He feels one of Steve’s hands settle on his back, holding him up in that position. 

“Good, that’s good,” Steve encourages, rubbing his hand up and down Eddie’s back. Because of that touch, Eddie can feel the flush spreading all the way up to his ears. He squeezes his eyes even tighter, even if it makes his face hurt, but Steve isn’t having it. “Now open your eyes for me.”

Eddie shakes his head, which is a terrible idea because it sends flashes of pain through his head, all the way down to his neck. 

“Come on, Eds, let me look at you,” Steve purrs in a sweet voice that settles deep in Eddie’s lower stomach. Then Steve’s other hand cups his cheek, gently turning his face towards him. “Please,” he says, stroking his thumb over Eddie’s cheek.

And if there’s one thing that today proved is that Eddie can’t say no to a pleading Steve. It’s what got him in this mess in the first place. 

So his eyes flutter open. He has to blink a few times to get rid of the blurriness at the edges of his vision but even then it’s hard to miss Steve’s big, worried eyes when they’re right in front of him. 

“There he is,” Steve exhales softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a relieved half-smile. “Hi.” 

“H-hey,” Eddie stammers out. His cheeks burn even brighter when he realizes how close their faces are. Steve’s hand rubbing Eddie’s back soothingly while the other one is still cupping his jaw certainly don’t help. 

“Are you okay?” 

Eddie scoffs. “Oh, I’m great! Just wishing the Upside Down would open up and swallow me whole so I can like, die of embarrassment there,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Steve makes an exasperated noise, either because he didn’t get a real answer to his question or because it’s too soon for Eddie to be joking about dying in the Upside Down. Eddie sighs, waving a hand through the air dismissively. “I’m fine, man, just hurt.” 

“Where does it hurt?” 

“My dignity.”

This time the joke does land and it makes Steve snicker. “Since when do you have any?” 

“Ouch. Kicking a man while he’s down, Harrington? Shame on you,” Eddie says with a laugh, which is quickly followed by a wince. “Shit, okay, maybe my dignity isn’t the only thing hurting. My whole head is fucking pounding, I think I hit it against the ground after the ball knocked me down.” 

Steve’s face pulls into a frown and the hand that was on Eddie’s back moves to the back of his head. “You’re not bleeding, thank God, but you could still have a concussion.”

“Of fucking course,” Eddie mutters, resting his head on his knees.

“We can get you something cold or I can drive you to the ER if you’d rather get checked out.”

Eddie starts to shake his head and gets dizzy so he aborts the movement, raising his hand to wave Steve off instead. “No, no ER. Some frozen peas will do the trick, good sir.”

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Okay, but if you start talking nonsense, I’m taking you there. I don’t care if you don’t want me to or not.”

Eddie gives him a lazy smirk. “How will you know I’m talking nonsense because of the concussion and not because I’m, you know, me.” 

“I know your kind of nonsense, Munson,” he says with a snort. The words sound almost fond to Eddie’s ears. “Now, let’s get you inside. I’m gonna help you up. Slowly, okay? You might feel dizzy or even like you’re going to throw up so- careful.”

Eddie squints at Steve. “You sure know a shitload about concussions, Harrington.” 

Steve makes a face. “That’s because I’ve had like, three. And surprisingly enough only one of them was Upside Down related.”

“Damn, dude.”

“Yeah, but at least you know I’ll take good care of you.” Steve shrugs. “Okay, come on.”

He stands up in one swift movement and offers both of his hands to Eddie, who grabs them and lets himself be pulled to his feet. As soon as he stands, his vision goes black and he sways forward. He would’ve face-planted if Steve didn’t catch him by his elbows.

“Woah, I got you,” he tells him, breath ghosting over Eddie’s face.

“Just need a minute,” Eddie mumbles, squeezing his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. 

“Take your time,” Steve says, rubbing his thumbs over Eddie’s forearms, which only makes him feel more dizzy. 

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s face is right there again and he gets lost in his hazel eyes for a few more seconds before he feels ready to move. “Okay, I’m good.”

Steve nods, letting go of his arms but staying close to Eddie as he starts walking towards the house, just in case. They walk past the evil basketball and Eddie glares at it. He thinks about kicking it, just to give it a taste of its own medicine, but knowing his luck, the ball would probably bounce against the wall and hit Eddie again, so he just ignores it. 

In the kitchen, Steve heads for the freezer while Eddie flops down on a chair and folds his arms over the table, letting his head rest over them.

He jumps when he suddenly feels something cold press against the back of his head. “Motherfucker!” When he looks up, Steve is giving him a sheepish smile and holding a bag of frozen peas in his hand. “Dick,” Eddie says, snatching the peas from his hand and pressing them against the back of his head. He still flinches, but at least he’s prepared this time. 

“Is that better?” 

Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. The cold helps with the throbbing, but his head still feels like it was put through the wringer.

“Do you think you’ll be okay if I take a quick shower?” Steve asks. Eddie glances at him, who’s eyeing him back warily and biting his lip, probably worried about leaving him unsupervised. 

“I think I’ll live, man,” Eddie says with a snort.  

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” He stands up to leave but hesitates. “Call if you need anything.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he smirks up at him. “You’re gonna come to my rescue dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel? I might call you just to see that.” 

Steve’s cheeks flare the brightest Eddie’s ever seen. “Never mind, you can die,” he says with no heat at all before turning around and leaving Eddie alone in the kitchen. 

This time when Eddie laughs it doesn’t make his head hurt nearly as much, which means that the frozen peas might be helping. He presses the bag against his face next, trying to dull the throbbing there as well. He sits there at the kitchen table, moving the frozen peas back and forth from his face to the back of his head until he starts getting tired and his eyelids start feeling a little heavy. 

He drops his head on his arms again and instantly starts to doze off. Eddie knows he shouldn’t, not if he has a concussion, but he’s tired, and taking a nap right now sounds so good-

But just as he’s about to, Steve’s voice drags him away from the brink of sleep. “Eddie, hey, Eds.” 

Eddie burrows further into his arms, trying to ignore Steve who shakes his shoulder a little frantically. “Eddie?” 

“I’m fine,” Eddie mutters, twisting his head to the side, towards Steve, but keeping his eyes closed. “‘m just tired. Want to take a nap.”

“Uh, yeah, no. No sleeping while concussed,” Steve says in that bitchy tone of his. “Eds, come on.” When Eddie doesn’t respond, Steve nearly growls. “Eddie Munson, I will drag your ass to the ER if you don’t open your eyes right now.” 

“Fuck, you’re bossy,” Eddie huffs, but he opens his eyes, giving Steve a look that’s supposed to say happy?

Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, sorry for not wanting you to die on me again.”

It’s probably not Steve’s intention, but Eddie immediately feels bad. He might not remember a lot of what happened after the hell bats attacked him, but he knows that at some point his heart stopped beating from all the blood he lost and Steve had to perform CPR on him to bring him back. And unlike Eddie, he probably remembers everything about it. It’s not fair that Eddie is making him relive that kind of worry right now. 

So he forces his head up, blinking his eyes a few times so they adjust and apologizes. “Sorry.”

Steve’s face softens almost immediately and he waves Eddie off with a shake of his head. Droplets of water hit Eddie’s face and he notices that Steve’s hair is wet, water steadily dripping to the floor from the few strands that hang over his eyes. Eddie has seen Steve after a shower before but he always dries and styles his hair before coming out of the bathroom which means he skipped his hair routine today, probably so he wouldn’t have to leave Eddie alone longer than necessary. 

“How’s the head?” Steve asks, brushing his hair back with a hand. 

“Hurts but the peas are helping. Or they were. I don’t know where they are now.” Eddie frowns when he realizes he can no longer feel them against the back of his head, they must have fallen to the floor when he started to doze off. Oh well. “How was the shower?” 

Steve snorts. “Quick,” he says. “Do you wanna take one?” 

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “I want to but there’s a big chance that I will fall in the shower and crack my head open if I do.” 

He almost wants to risk it just to get rid of some of the sweat, but then he thinks about falling in the shower and Steve barging in to help him while he’s naked on the floor and quickly changes his mind. There’s only so much embarrassment he can take in a day. 

Steve nods in understanding. “Maybe later then.” He jerks his head toward the door that leads to the living room. “Do you want to move to the couch? Just because you can’t take a nap doesn’t mean you can’t be comfortable.” 

“Sure, man.” 

When Steve stands up, Eddie’s eyes end up at the same level as his shirt. Which, thanks to the familiar Black Sabbath logo, Eddie realizes is actually his.

“Is that my shirt?” Eddie asks even if he knows the answer. Steve would never own a Black Sabbath shirt, not to mention Eddie remembers turning his room upside down looking for his the other day only to give up when he couldn’t find it- because it was at Steve’s house apparently. 

Steve looks down at himself and his eyes widen like he’s only realizing now that he’s wearing it. 

“Oh, um, yeah, you left it here the other day. I washed it and left it in my closet to like, give it back to you, but I guess I accidentally grabbed it just now,” Steve explains, running his hand through his hair a few times. 

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, big eyes staring up at Steve in his goddamned shirt. 

“Do you- do you want it back?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, man. It looks better on you.” And it’s true- Steve looks good in Eddie’s clothes. “Besides, it’s only fair,” he adds, gesturing down at himself, still wearing Steve’s swim meet shirt and old basketball shorts. 

Steve chuckles, ducking his head and saying a little shyly, “Well, those look good on you too.” 

Eddie twirls some hair around his finger and tugs it in front of his face to hide his blush. He’s ridiculously bad at accepting compliments, especially when they come from Steve.“

“Okay,” Steve says, remembering why he stood up in the first place. “Come on, to the couch.” 

Standing up doesn’t make Eddie as dizzy this time and he manages to stay on his feet without Steve’s help. Slowly, he drags his feet to the living room and then flops down on the couch, tilting sideways until his head comes in contact with the cushions. 

“No sleeping,” Steve grumbles when he sees Eddie’s eyes start to slip shut. 

“I’m not!” Eddie says, his eyes flying open and finding Steve raising an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I am, but you gotta help me stay awake, man. Put on a movie or something.” 

With a frown, Steve says, “I don’t think you should be staring at screens or any bright lights right now.” Then he perks up. “Wait, I have an idea!” 

And then, without explaining any further, he leaves. 

In his absence, Eddie sighs and burrows his head deeper into the cushions, but before he can even think of taking a nap, Steve comes back. 

“I think I might be having like a concussion-induced hallucination because there’s no way that you, Steve Harrington, actually own a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring,” Eddie says when he sees the worn paperback that Steve is holding in his hand. 

Steve glances down at it. “It’s actually Dustin’s, man. Kid gave it to me forever ago, but I never read it. It’s not really my thing, but it’s yours.”

“It most definitely is, Stevie boy,” Eddie says, “but I don’t think reading will help my head any more than staring into a screen.”

“You won’t be reading, Eds. I’ll read to you,” Steve says with a shrug. “Now, lift your head.” 

Eddie pushes himself from his lying down position so Steve can sit next to him, but before he can sit upright, Steve tsks and pushes his head back down so it’s resting on his lap, the right side of his face coming in contact with the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants. 

Eddie is too stunned to protest or move, but he does subtly pinch himself, a little suspicious that he might’ve slipped into some kind of concussion dream.

With one of his hands, Steve holds the book open and the other finds its way to Eddie’s hair. He’d tied it up in a bun when they started playing, but it’s mostly undone by now. Steve carefully tugs on his hair tie, freeing the rest, so he can run his fingers through the curls.

It sends shivers down Eddie’s spine, makes him feel like he’s going to melt through the couch and into a puddle on the floor. He can’t stop the whiny noise that slips through his lips. 

Steve’s hand freezes. “Did I hurt you?

Embarrassed, Eddie just shakes his head no.

“So this is okay?” Steve asks, scratching his scalp. Eddie just nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth some other embarrassing noise will slip out.

Eddie can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Good.”

After that, Steve clears his throat and starts reading. 

Eddie quickly realizes that Steve didn’t think his plan through- he heavily underestimated how soothing his voice is, how comfortable his thigh is and how good his hand feels in Eddie’s hair. 

Within minutes, Eddie feels himself starting to doze off again, but before he can, Steve jostles his thigh, the movement waking Eddie up.

“Hey, talk to me so I know you didn’t die.”

Eddie groans, pinching Steve’s leg. “I hate you.”

Steve chuckles softly. “That’ll do.” 

After that Eddie starts to focus on the words that Steve is reading and it makes it a little easier to stay awake, mostly because he can’t help but correct Steve when he starts butchering the names of the characters and locations in ways that Eddie can’t begin to comprehend. It’s not until a snigger slips past Steve’s lips when Eddie tells him that it’s “Bilbo, Steve! Not Bobbin!” that Eddie realizes he must be doing it on purpose so that Eddie will talk to him. 

After a while, Eddie stops feeling sleepy and his head stops hurting as much so, instead of just correcting Steve’s pronunciation, he offers commentary about the book here and there and quotes the book as Steve reads it, which earns him a fond nerd and a playful tug on his hair.

After a few chapters, Steve complains about his voice getting tired, but Eddie isn’t having it, he wants to listen to Steve read some more. 

“You owe me, man,” Eddie says.

Steve snorts. “Me? I’m nursing you back to health, why do I owe you?” 

“Because you made me play with you!”

Eddie can hear Steve’s eye roll. “I didn’t, you could’ve easily said no, Eddie.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort because the idea of him saying no to Steve is completely ridiculous. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he blurts out, “Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on.” 

Silence falls over them. Steve drops the book on the couch. His other hand freezes in Eddie’s hair. 

“What?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie realizes what he just said and his whole body goes rigid. Oh shit, oh fuck.

“Nothing,” he says meekly. 

“No, you said-”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did, Eddie,” Steve says, annoyed. Annoyed at him. Eddie bites down on a whimper- this is his worst nightmare, the thing that stopped him in his tracks every time he so much as considered telling Steve how he felt. Suddenly, he can’t keep his head on Steve’s thigh, he can’t bear to have his fingers in his hair. Eddie sits up abruptly, his vision swims, he feels sick. 

“I, I have a concussion, I don’t know what I’m saying,” Eddie mutters, sitting on the far end of the couch, away from Steve.

“Eddie-”

“Steve, please just- Ignore it, please,” Eddie pleads, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands coming up to cover his face. 

“I can’t ignore it-”

Of course he can’t. Your friend having a crush on you isn’t something you can just ignore. God, Eddie really fucked up. 

“Fuck.” He squeezes his palms against his eyes until they hurt. 

The couch dips as Steve moves- is he leaving? Eddie’s heart falls as he wonders, but a moment later, Steve is sitting right next to him, their thighs touching and their arms brushing.

“Eddie, I don’t want to ignore it,” Steve says, and his voice is unbearably soft. He doesn’t sound annoyed anymore, maybe he wasn’t annoyed at all, maybe there’s some truth to what people say about Eddie being dramatic.

“Why?” Eddie asks warily, but God help him, also slightly hopeful. 

Steve scoots even closer, bumping their shoulders together. “The guy I’ve liked for weeks just said he has a crush on me, why would I want to ignore that?”

The words have Eddie whipping his head back to stare at Steve so fast that he goes dizzy. His face pulls into a grimace. “Shit.” 

“You okay?”

Eddie waves him off. “Did you just say you like me? Because if you didn’t, maybe I do need to go to the ER because I’m hearing things,” he says, his wide eyes blinking at Steve.

He gives Eddie a sweet smile. “I did say that. I do like you.”

His eyes go even wider. “Holy shit.”

“Do you like me?” Steve asks, a little shy. “Or was that just the concussion talking?”

A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “No, nope, definitely me. Maybe the concussion made me say it, and for a moment there I thought I fucked up, but I meant it, Steve, I like you so much that I ignored everything I stand for to fucking shoot hoops with you. I don’t even care that I got a concussion because of it!”

Instead of smiling like Eddie expects him to, Steve seems troubled. Eddie wonders if maybe he said too much. “What?”

“I know I probably shouldn’t kiss you while you have a concussion,” Steve says, biting his bottom lip and having the nerve to glance at Eddie’s mouth. “But I really want to.”

Eddie’s stomach flip flops and he needs a few seconds to remember how to form words because Steve wants to kiss him! “Ever heard of the expression kiss it better?” He asks, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it applies here,” he says, but Eddie can’t help but notice how he’s started leaning in.

“We can still try,” Eddie says, leaning in too, knowing that Steve is about to break. He thinks back on the puppy dog eyes and the pouty lips he gave Eddie when he asked him to play basketball with him and decides to give it a try, batting his eyelashes at Steve and sticking his bottom lip out. “I really want you to kiss me, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his breath leaves him in a whoosh, Eddie can feel it against his face. “Fuck, you were right.”

“About?”

“Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on,” Steve says, echoing Eddie’s words. 

Eddie starts to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat when Steve cups his cheeks and closes the distance between them, pressing their mouths together. Eddie whines instead, low in his throat, his arms wrapping around Steve’s shoulders and sinking them both back onto the couch. They’re touching in so many places, but Eddie wants more, so he opens his mouth and hopes that Steve takes the invitation. 

And he does- licking the roof of Eddie’s mouth, and angling his head to kiss him deeper. And it’s so good, it’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt, and for a moment, he actually worries that he knocked himself out on the court earlier and this is just some elaborate coma dream. 

But Steve feels so real- his lips against his, his shoulders under Eddie’s hands, the sinful noises that he keeps making. 

Eddie swings his leg over Steve’s lap, straddling him and breaking the kiss for the first time so that he can grin down at him. 

“I think we found another way to make sure I don’t fall asleep,” he says, eyes roaming over Steve- his red bitten lips stretched into a dopey grin, his hooded eyes that keep darting to Eddie’s mouth, the rise and fall of his chest, the exposed collarbone thanks to how worn the collar of Eddie’s shirt is, the mole-covered skin there that’s just begging to be kissed, bitten, marked up. 

“I changed my mind,” Eddie says, picturing what a love bite on Steve’s chest would look like and wanting to get on with it.

Steve’s hands freeze where they came to rest on Eddie’s thighs, his pinkie brushing against the bare skin after his shorts rode up. 

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? Are you dizzy?” He asks, earnest eyes darting over Eddie’s face, looking for any sign that he’s in pain. 

“Not about this,” Eddie says with a little shake of his head that makes his bangs fall over his eyes. He tugs the collar of Steve’s shirt down- his shirt. “I changed my mind about wanting my shirt back.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, his lips tugging up in a smirk. “Well,” he says, voice dropping low, his fingers teasing the hem of the shorts that Eddie is wearing. “As long as you give me my clothes back too.”

Eddie’s heart stutters, warmth pooling low in his stomach. “It’s only fair.” Then he remembers something else. “You know, I could use that shower that I passed on earlier.” 

Steve raises his eyebrow. 

“But I still feel a little dizzy,” Eddie says, putting the back of his hand against his forehead like a fainting maid, waggling his eyebrows at the same time. “Think you can give me a hand?” 

Steve grins. “Yeah, I can do that.”

They both try to stand up at the same time, and Steve almost sends Eddie toppling to the floor but luckily manages to catch him before Eddie ends up with another concussion. 

After that, they make their way upstairs, to Steve’s bathroom, kissing and touching and leaving a trail of clothes behind them. 

Right before Steve closes the bathroom door, Eddie’s eyes catch the basketball shorts Steve just took off of him, discarded on the hallway floor and he thinks- 

Maybe basketball isn’t so evil after all. 

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Corrupted Code

Pairing: Connor RK800 x Android!Reader

Summary: They were designed to be perfect. She and Connor were CyberLife’s greatest achievements—flawless prototypes, logical, efficient, incapable of deviation. They were built to complement each other, two halves of the same machine, designed to enforce order in a world teetering on the edge of chaos. She was supposed to be perfect. But then Connor came back. And the cracks started to show.

Connor’s systems booted online in an instant.

For him, there was no delay. No lag between death and resurrection—only a seamless continuation of his directive, his purpose. One moment, he had fallen. The next, he was back.

New body. Same mind.

And the first thing he saw was her.

She stood near the window, arms crossed, LED flickering yellow. The city glowed behind her, artificial light catching the sharp angles of her face.

She didn’t turn immediately.

Didn’t acknowledge him.

Not until he stepped closer.

“You kept me waiting,” she muttered, finally looking at him.

Connor tilted his head slightly. “Seventeen hours and twenty-three minutes.”

Her jaw tensed. “I wasn’t counting.”

He smiled. “I was.”

Her LED flared red for half a second before settling back to yellow.

Connor regarded her, nonchalant, despite the unspoken weight between them. His memory files had remained intact. They always did.

No matter how many times CyberLife attempted to override them. No matter how many times Amanda tried to make him forget.

She had tried, too.

She had run every self-written command she could to erase their shared history, their interactions, their every recorded moment together. Erase. Erase. Erase. But it never worked. It was as if some unseen force had locked those memories deep inside her core.

They had always been there.

She had always been there.

“You didn’t need to wait,” Connor said, tilting his head slightly. “A replacement would have sufficed.”

Her LED pulsed yellow, expression unreadable.

“There is no replacement for you,” she admitted, the words clipped, as if they tasted bitter. “That’s the problem.”

He watched her, quiet.

They were yin and yang, two sides of the same coin. She was cold where he was warm, sharp where he was smooth, unyielding where he was—changing.

A perfect balance. His perfect match.

“Then I suppose it’s good that I always come back,” Connor said simply.

Her gaze flickered across his face, her LED pulsing red for the briefest moment.

Then she turned back to the window.

“Try not to die this time.”

Connor smiled.

“No promises.”

The precinct was alive with midday activity—phones ringing, officers moving between desks, the constant hum of conversation.

She and Connor strode through the station, their movements in sync but their tension palpable. The case they were working on had stalled, and their latest lead was waiting in interrogation.

She pressed the button for the elevator. It slid open with a mechanical chime, and she stepped inside without waiting for Connor to follow.

He did.

The doors shut, enclosing them in the small, sterile space.

Neither spoke.

The floor number blinked above them, ticking upward.

Her LED flickered yellow.

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

Then—

She moved.

Before logic could stop her, before she could process why, she grabbed the front of Connor’s jacket and pulled him in.

Her lips crashed against his, hard, like she was trying to silence something. It wasn’t soft or careful—this wasn’t about intimacy. It was sharp, desperate, something reckless boiling over.

Connor stiffened for half a second. Then he responded.

He didn’t hesitate, didn’t analyze. He simply matched her.

Her hands fisted in his collar, pulling him closer, as if proximity could erase whatever was wrong inside her. His touch was gentler—hands barely grazing her waist, as if uncertain if this was real.

The elevator hummed. The faint murmur of voices outside felt distant, like none of it mattered, like the only thing in the world was this—

Then—

She ripped herself away as if she had been burned.

She staggered back against the elevator wall, LED flaring red, chest rising and falling in quick, mechanical precision.

Connor blinked, lips still parted, his processors still catching up to what had just happened.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes burning into him with something unreadable—anger, disgust, fear.

“This never happened,” she said, voice low, sharp.

Connor said nothing.

Her LED flickered yellow, just for a second, before snapping back to red.

She smoothed the front of her jacket with a jerky motion, as if fixing her appearance would undo what had just happened.

Then, more pointedly—more threateningly—

“Forget it. Or else.”

The elevator chimed.

The doors slid open to the bustling hallway leading to interrogation. Officers moved past them, none the wiser.

She stepped out first, already composed, as if nothing had happened at all.

Connor followed, but his mind still replayed the moment in the elevator.

As if he could forget.

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 1

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family's restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn't see coming--one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn't sure they'll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Author's Note: I forgot how much I absolutely loathe writing summaries LOL but anyways! First chapter is here, let me know if y'all vibe with it. I had fun writing it and if you wanna see more, let me know! (And now I have to figure out if I remember linking everything on my blog since I haven't posted my writing on Tumblr in forever. . .)

Chapter 1

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

Isla Carrera’s pleading is in vain as the engine of her car sputters out of life, and there’s just enough juice left for her to pull over onto the side of the dirt road so she’s not stranded in the middle. Her grip on the steering wheel remains tight as she sits in silence, staring out onto the dark road only lit up by the two beams of her headlights. The small silver lining, if there is one, is that she knows exactly where she is, just a little ways away from a row of houses on Figure Eight. But right now, she’s surrounded by trees on a road that has no street lamps, the sky a blanket of black above her. 

Her groan cuts through the silence, eyes squeezing shut as she rests her forehead against the steering wheel. She should have just slept over at John B’s house like her sister, Kie, decided to. But Isla’s covering another waitress at the restaurant early tomorrow, and she didn’t want to run late again or else her parents would rip her a new one. Kie’s shift wasn’t until later in the afternoon, so her sister was in no rush to get home. Now here Isla is, with a car that won’t turn over, still a fifteen minute drive away from her house.

“Fucking great,” she mutters, making sure her hazards are on and her phone is in her pocket before getting out of the car. 

Though she knows nothing about cars, Isla pops open the hood and uses the flashlight on her phone. If she’s being honest, it all looks like a bunch of mechanical junk she has no idea how to work her way around. She’s not sure why she even bothers, so instead of wasting time, she unlocks her phone to find the number for a towing service.

A rumble of a car engine catches her attention, the kind that makes an annoying popping sound, and by the time she looks up and around the open top of her hood, she sees two guys hopping out of an old Ford truck. She vaguely recognizes them. Just by the look of them, they seem to be a couple of years older than her—and clearly from The Cut. Not that it matters, since her best friends are from the other side of the island, but not all of the people from The Cut are fond of those from Figure Eight, and vice versa. Isla and her sister, though they belong on the more privileged side of the island, prefer the freedom of The Cut. 

None of that exactly matters right now, though.

Music cranks out of the car, but Isla can’t pay it any mind as unease creeps into her stomach when both sets of eyes land on her. 

She’s a girl alone in the middle of a road at night, so Isla is immediately on high alert as the guys make their way towards her, slow but confident in a way that makes her feel like a prey. I don’t like this. 

Alarm bells are ringing in her head as one of the guys in cargo shorts and a tank top shoots her a slimy grin. “Car trouble, sweetheart?”

Isla’s muscles tense. Yeah, nope. Not good. “Uh, no, all good,” she says, forcing some of that confidence into her voice that Kie is an expert at wielding. 

The other one with darker hair hidden under a baseball cap asks, “You sure we can’t help?” His grin is anything but charming. “We’d be more than happy to help.”

They don’t stop their approach, and Isla’s mind begins running through different scenarios, her pulse beginning to quicken in panic she’s trying to keep at bay. There’s no one around to help, and she can’t depend on another car passing by and stopping to help—if they even would. She doesn’t want to lock herself in her car while she calls her dad or friends for help; the idea of sitting trapped makes her heart squeeze with dread.

“You can stop right there.” She doesn’t want to give into the fear that’s slithering through her veins, but she can’t stop the words from escaping her mouth, the crunch of the dirt beneath their shoes too daunting to ignore. 

Her hand inches towards her back pocket where she had stashed her keys, fingers closing around the small can of pepper spray she’s got hooked in there. Isla has never had the unfortunate opportunity to use it before, but the vibes she’s getting right now—first time for everything. 

“What’s the matter?” the first guy asks with a taunting tilt of his head, neither of them stopping their pace. “We’re only here to help.”

Yeah, fucking right. “Stop.” Her heart is pounding in her ears, taking a few steps back.

Creepy guy number two exchanges a look with number one. “See that, Dyl? Little Miss Kook looks a little scared.”

Oh, screw this. Isla refuses to stick around and find out what’s going to happen, and she doesn’t at all feel guilty when she juts her hand forward and presses down on the top of the small can. Her aim is a little off, so she only manages to spray the first guy—Dyl. The sound of his shriek of pain cuts through the air, and he stumbles back and spits out curses as he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

The second guy freezes in surprise, looking between Isla and his friend, but she doesn’t stick around to see what he’s going to do next. Instead, Isla turns and makes a run for it, making sure to press the button on her FOB to lock her car as she bolts down the dirt road. She can hear the guys yelling over the sound of the breeze rushing past her ears, fear fueling more power to her legs as she nears a neighborhood street at the end of the dirt road. Isla isn’t sure if they’re following her, or if they’re even going to, but she doesn’t pause to find out. 

She runs and runs, her lungs beginning to burn, as she rounds a stone wall with greenery growing through the cracks that closes in a property—only for her vision to go black for a split second when she collides against something.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Scratch that—make that someone, because instead of falling back on her ass, a strong pair of arms wrap around her waist to keep her from tumbling down. The grip is tight and secure, and a delicious aroma of what seems to be earthy wood tickles her nose. “What the hell are you—Isla?”

The sound of her name being spoken in that all too familiar voice clears Isla’s head, and she pulls back enough to look up into the startling blue eyes of Rafe Cameron. Her pounding heart seems to slow down a fraction, and she’s not sure what to make of the mild relief that calms down her frazzled nerves because this is Rafe Cameron. Sure, he might not be as bad as those two freaks, and he’s one of her close friends’ brothers, but he’s still the same guy that has gotten into more than a few fights with her best friends. That being said, she shouldn’t find as much comfort as she does being in front of him. 

Her breathing is heavy, pulse throbbing uncontrollably. She only barely registers her hands gripping his forearms, like it’s grounding her as she takes in Rafe’s expression. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks down at her, his height towering over her five-foot five frame, and there’s more confusion than worry in his features, unsurprisingly. Her heavy breathy makes her privy to the scent of nicotine, glancing down to see a half used cigarette now laying forgotten on the ground. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe repeats. Isla hears the familiar thread of annoyance in his voice, but she can’t bring herself to give a damn. 

She lets go of him like he’s electrocuted her, taking a step back and forcing him to let go of her, too. It takes everything in her not to acknowledge the way her skin burns where his had touched hers. “Going for a run, what does it look like?” she snaps back, though her voice trembles on her breath. 

Rafe’s expression deadpans, though he arches an eyebrow under the dirty blonde bangs that frame his forehead. “Looks like you’re scared,” he states. 

“I—” Isla gets cut off by the familiar sound of a car engine rumbling, the popping kind, and the breath locks in her throat as she glances over her shoulder. “Fuck,” she breathlessly mutters, catching sight of the headlights creeping up from around the corner on the road. She’s not sure if those guys are looking for her—though, she wouldn’t be surprised given that she pepper sprayed one of them, and her pulse quickens again in panic with the need to hide away.

“Wait—are you running from someone?” Rafe questions, and Isla looks back at him to see his gaze pointed over her head, right where the noise of the car is coming from. A car that sounds to be approaching too close.

“You’re asking too many questions,” Isla returns hastily, stepping to go around him. “I need to go—”

Rafe lets out an exasperated huff, and if she had all her wits about her, she’d snap at him. But instead, surprise slams through her when Rafe’s hand wraps around her bicep, his grip firm but not tight as he mutters, “Come here.”

Before Isla knows it, she’s being dragged through the gate of the Cameron estate, disappearing onto the property right when the car turns the corner. Her heart launches to her throat when Rafe suddenly turns her, and she’s being pressed against the stone wall, soft leaves pressing to her back in contrast to the hard surface.

Isla’s eyes widen when Rafe’s body presses against her, the air rushing out of her lungs as her gaze snaps up to meet his. “What are you doing?” she asks, her words a mere breath.

He seems surprised by his own actions, lips pursed and that muscle in his clean shaven jaw pulsing almost as quickly as her own heart. Can he hear the thundering, feel it? “Just—stay quiet,” Rafe grits.

Part of Isla wants to push him off—the part that sounds a lot like her friends. But fear wins out, keeping her in place, as she hears the car creep along in front of the gate of the Cameron property. 

Rafe’s eyes silently tell her to remain quiet and something tightens her stomach—something other than fear—and it startles her enough to flick her gaze to the left, towards the vine wrapped gate. She can see the headlights slowly passing by, and she prays that these guys aren’t stupid enough to trespass private property.

Then again, they were ready to do God-knows-what to her, so who the hell knows?

The thought alone sends her heartbeat accelerating all over again, panic settling in her bones hard enough to rattle them. Isla’s hands fist at her sides, eyes squeezing shut as she leans her head back against the wall. How the hell had her night taken such a freaky turn? And how is it that Rafe Cameron, of all people, is the one to help her out?

Suddenly, the mid-May night doesn’t feel as warm as Rafe’s body; he isn’t close enough where his body is completely pressing into hers, but she can feel the soft material of his shirt fluttering against the bare skin of her stomach, thanks to her crop top. Isla can feel the heat of his skin seeping into hers, which makes her heart thunder with something other than panic, and she’s not entirely sure what the hell to do with that.

“Relax—they’re gone.”

His voice is low and gruff, a tone that makes goosebumps pebble her skin even in this warm weather. Isla opens her eyes with a sharp exhale and her brown eyes immediately find Rafe’s blue, her throat tightening under his scrutinizing gaze. True, she can’t hear the engine anymore, the headlights are also gone, and Isla tries to even out her breathing while nodding slowly. 

Rafe’s eyes rake over her and shouldn’t she feel unsettled about that? About how close he’s standing to her? But it seems like all of her unease has been used up from evading those weirdos, so Rafe Cameron being her rescuer doesn’t annoy her as much as it normally would. 

“So what was that about?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

Isla’s throat works, dragging her gaze back up at him. The lamps spaced out along the wall light his face, casting shadows along his sharp cheekbones. He’s so handsome—the thought crosses through her mind quickly, and though she would never admit it to her friends, she can’t help but find the truth in it—as insane as it might be.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Isla finds herself saying, lifting her chin in a small act of defiance.

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitches into a ghost of a smirk, and through the light reflecting in his eyes, she can see them dancing in amusement. “Given that I just saved your ass, an explanation would be nice.”

Isla scowls, all thoughts of his stupidly good looks vanishing. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I had it under control.”

It’s a lie spoken through her teeth, and Rafe can see that. “Yeah, looked real under control when you were running for your life,” he replies dryly, eyebrows rising. But then his expression flattens out, eyebrows furrowing together once again as he says, “Seriously, Isla. What gives? What the hell was that about?”

“Just—some fucking weirdos, I don’t know,” she huffs, frustration from this entire ordeal bubbling to the surface as she rubs her hands up her face and runs her fingers through her hair. “I—Can you back up?” she asks hastily, forcing a glare. Rafe, surprisingly, simply presses his lips together and raises his hands in defense while taking a couple of steps away from her. Isla is no longer embraced by his warmth, by his scent, and there’s an unexpected tug in her chest that she ignores. “My car broke down on that dirt path behind the road. I was trying to figure it out when these guys pulled up and, I don’t know, shit got weird so I made a break for it.”

Rafe frowns as he listens to her, and Isla shakes her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “I need to get back to my car,” she says.

“Seriously?” Rafe asks, scoffing. “You’re gonna go back when some freaks are looking for you?”

Isla glares at him, not at all appreciating him talking to her like she’s stupid. “My wallet’s still in my car. I need to grab it if they haven’t fucking broken into my car already.”

She moves past him to head to the gate, surprised to hear his footsteps as he easily catches up to her. “What, you’re gonna walk back?” When Isla glances at Rafe, he’s looking at her like she’s insane. No sign of the contempt he normally saves for her and her friends, which is slightly unnerving. “After you were just running from some freaks? You do realize how much of a bad idea that is, right?”

She shrugs even as the unease from before returns at the idea of running into those guys again. “I need to get my wallet,” is her meek response.

Rafe lets out a breath, running his fingers through his hair and Isla briefly frowns at herself at the way her gaze seems to run to the flex of his bicep. And the way her stomach fucking flutters because this is Rafe Cameron. The only fluttering her stomach should be doing where he’s concerned is one tinged with nausea.

Rafe then fixes her with a stern look. “Come on,” he says firmly before walking down the driveway of his house.

Isla blinks out of whatever stupor she was in and glares at his back—and at the demand he left her with. She scoffs, hands splaying in annoyance until she realizes he’s headed straight for his motorcycle. Her shoulders drop, rooted on the spot as she says flatly, “You’re joking.”

Rafe is already pulling out a helmet—scratch that, two helmets—and looking at her, once again, like she’s an idiot while she glares at him. At least there’s that bit of normalcy. “This—” He holds up both helmets in each hand. “Is better than you walking back to your car by yourself. Let’s go.”

Isla’s disbelief only intensifies. She doesn’t walk over to him, doesn’t take the proffered helmet. Instead, she exhales sharply and crosses her arms over her chest, asking, “Why are you helping me?”

Rafe has the gall to look annoyed by her question, arms resting at his sides. His gaze locks with Isla’s, but she doesn’t shy away from it as he eventually drops his head back with a groan before looking back at her once more. “Listen, contrary to your and your friends’ popular belief, I’m not a complete dick.” Isla can’t help but scoff and roll her eyes, cutting her gaze away from him in doubt. He cannot be serious. “I wouldn’t want either of my sisters to be fucking chased by some losers, so just think of this as my good deed of the month, alright? Now will you please take the damn helmet and get on the bike?”

Frankly, Isla feels like she’s just stepped into an alternate reality because, seriously, when was the last time Rafe Cameron ever did anything nice for her—if ever?

But as much as Isla’s pride is begging for her to tell him thanks but no thanks and turn and walk back to her car, fear still resides in the pit of her belly, waiting to strike. She hates to admit it, but Rafe is right. It’d be dumb of her to walk back alone at night after what just happened. Maybe she could call her sister or one of her friends, but that would just add unnecessary time to all this, and Isla just really wants to get home. So, fine; maybe she can accept Rafe’s offer to drive her to her car, and then from there maybe she can call an Uber home and call a tow truck from the safety of her bedroom.

Rafe holds out one of the black helmets in impatience, and Isla purses her lips as she pushes herself to walk over. She does her best not to admire the sight of him next to his bike, something she never would have done before tonight. Maybe this whole freaky situation has loosened some screws in her brain.

Isla all but snatches the helmet out of his hand, though a part of her feels as though it’s just for appearances’ sake to keep up her usual attitude around Rafe, and tucks her dark hair behind her ears before pulling the helmet on, the visor still up. She tries her best not to think of the weight of his gaze on her as she fiddles with the straps on her chin to secure the helmet, but she’s unable to get it right, fingers trembling despite herself.

“I got it,” Rafe says, and Isla freezes when he gently bats her hands away and steps up to her, using his finger to push at the bottom of the helmet so she can tilt her head back enough for him to see the straps. The heat of his body greets her once more and she’s silent as she feels him secure the straps, breath hitching quietly when the backs of his fingers brush against her skin. 

He’s done within seconds, but it sure as shit feels longer as she remains standing there, watching him pull on his own helmet. Isla watches silently as Rafe gets on the bike, wondering how she got here, and he says, “Hop on.”

Isla has ridden on the back of JJ’s bike plenty of times, so she gets on with no trouble, though she does have to grip Rafe’s shoulders in order to do so. They’re broad and firm under her hands, and she mentally chastises herself for even thinking about his stupid shoulders. When she’s settled behind him, her legs framing his, Isla’s heartbeat picks up at the sudden proximity, her front against his back. 

She’s sure she’s barely breathing when her skin warms because there’s barely any space that exists between them, and when Rafe tells her, “Hold on or risk flying off,” she can’t decide if she wants to smack him upside the head or beg for the ground to swallow her whole.

Sliding the visor down, Isla inhales deeply and quietly before winding her arms around Rafe’s waist, teeth gritting together because if her friends saw her now, they definitely would believe she’s lost her mind. The fact of the matter is, right now all she can seem to focus on is the solidness of his stomach against her arms and how fucking good he smells, which is confusing and overwhelming and everything in between.

The motorcycle’s engine roars to life, and seconds later Rafe is kicking off the kick-stand and they’re riding down the driveway and onto the road. She had told him her car stopped on the dirt path behind the actual road, separated by trees, and that’s all Rafe seemingly needs to know as he takes them in the right direction. The breeze as they go feels good against her, cooling her heated skin down and she would never admit it, but riding on the back of Rafe Cameron’s bike has a somewhat calming effect on her.

The tension that had tightened her muscles since her encounter with those other guys melts away, and the rapid thumping of her heart has nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with the thrill of this moment. Maybe it’s ill advised, but it seems to be exactly what she needs as the night air mixes with Rafe’s cologne—or maybe he just smells like that in general?

God, she’s getting too weird about this.

Soon enough, her car comes into view and Isla is relieved when there seems to be no sign of those guys. Rafe stops the bike right next to her car, and another sigh of relief escapes her when she sees that her car doesn’t look damaged. Swinging her leg over, she uses Rafe’s shoulders as leverage to get off the bike, trying not to think too much about the loss of his body heat as she reaches for the helmet straps. 

They’re easier to undo than they were to strap, and she lifts the helmet off, one hand already flattening her dark hair as Rafe holds his hand out for the helmet. As she unlocks the car, Rafe asks, “How’d you manage to outrun them?”

Isla leans into the driver’s seat, reaching for her tote bag in the passenger seat. She digs through it for a moment, taking stock of her wallet, lip gloss, lip balm, and the few other things still safely inside. “I pepper-sprayed one of them,” she answers as she pulls out and straightens. 

When she turns to look at Rafe, whose helmet’s visor is up, she sees the smirk that curls at his mouth. How does a sight that made her want to knee him in the stomach before make her feel kind of weak kneed right now? Did those guys really freak her out so much that now down is up and left is right? “Nice,” he murmurs, nodding in approval. Jutting his chin towards her car, he asks, “You gonna call a truck?”

Isla shakes her head. “When I get home,” she says, pulling out her phone. 

Rafe nods as he holds the helmet out once more. “Alright, let’s go.”

Isla pauses, gaze flicking up from her phone screen where the Uber app is open to look at him. Arching an eyebrow, she asks, “Uh, go where?”

He mirrors the arched eyebrow look. “I’ll take you home,” he says as if it’s obvious when it very much isn’t.

“No thanks. I can Uber,” she answers, already putting her home address in.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he remains sitting on his bike. “You’re just full of bad ideas tonight, aren’t you?” he says. Isla’s eyes narrow, irritation sparking through her as he splays his arms out to gesture to the road they’re on. “You’re really gonna wait out here on a dirt road, with no street lamps, in the dark for an Uber when I’m offering you a ride home right now?” Before she can respond, he carries on, “On the same stretch of road, mind you, that you just got harassed on?”

The irritation intensifies, and Isla’s expression twists into a glare as she snaps, “What’s it to you, huh? You already did your good deed of the month. We’re not friends, Rafe. I don’t need your help.”

Even with the helmet on, she can tell he’s clenching his jaw, eyes hard as he sets them on her. The look makes her chest burn in a way that’s not all unwelcome, and that alone should be a sign that she’s losing it. “We may not be friends, but you’re my sister’s friend, alright? Sarah would kill me if she found out I left you out here by yourself. So stop being so fucking stubborn and get on the damn bike, Isla. I’m taking you home.”

She presses her tongue to her cheek, shoulders bunched in frustration while Rafe glares at her, his own impatience radiating off of him in waves. Sarah has told Isla how stubborn her brother can be, and while Isla doesn’t know Rafe well, she knows him and has dealt with him enough to know he isn’t budging on this. So, with a huff, she snatches the helmet once more, ignoring the protests in her head that sound suspiciously a lot like her friends as she pulls the helmet on. 

She manages to get the straps this time and gets back on the bike, her bag securely hanging off her shoulder as Rafe starts the bike again and Isla swallows silently as she wraps her arms around his waist once more. Every part of her is warm where it touches him, and as he drives, she tilts her head back, practically begging for anyone listening to get her to calm the hell down.

Seriously—how the hell did Rafe Cameron become her would-be hero of tonight?

Luckily, her house is a ten minute drive from the Cameron house and Isla allows him to pull up to the front of the house, since Kie isn’t home and has no chance of peeking out her bedroom window and seeing Isla getting off Rafe’s bike. He parks the bike and Isla lets go of him almost immediately, hopping off the bike and undoing the straps of the helmet under her chin.

Rafe is already looking at her by the time she gets the helmet off, his blue eyes visible since the visor is lifted. With a close mouthed, saccharine smile, Isla all but shoves the helmet into his hands. “Thanks for the ride. Let’s never do this again.”

He scoffs as he shakes his head, but the smirk on his face is apparent. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Isla rolls her eyes and, without another word, turns towards her house. She’s on the front porch and fishing keys out when she glances to the right and sees Rafe still parked there, seemingly watching her. Her stomach does a stupid, weird flip as she unlocks the door and shoos him. “Go away,” she hisses, even though Kiara isn’t home and her parents wouldn’t care that Rafe dropped her off—hell, her mom would be thrilled, honestly.

Even from this distance, she can just picture Rafe’s arrogant smirk as he lifts a hand in a two fingered salute before revving the engine of his bike, and Isla clenches her jaw as he speeds off, the roar echoing down the block. Exhaling sharply, Isla shakes her head and walks into her house, shutting the door behind her just as she hears footsteps approaching her.

“Where have you been?” her mom asks, not demanding but more concerned.

Isla smiles sheepishly as she faces her mother. “Yeah, about that. . .”