#red lace panels for the hearts on her chest maybe??

[omni-present-god-send]

Hazbin Hotel One-shot

This is just a quick oneshot that takes place during the finale. It’s also a niche way to intoduce y’all to my OC. Enjoy!

Alastor shuffled his way into his radio tower. What was left of it at least. Adam got him good. His chest burned as blood trickled down from the wound. He slammed the hatch behind him as he dragged himself to the control panel. “I can see the headlines now: Alastor, altruist, died for his friends!” He mocks himself. How did he get so close with these nincompoops so quickly? Well... there was one. One that was different then the others. “Alastor? Are you in there?”. Ah. There she is.

Alastor didn’t say a word. His heart going a mile-a-minute. He can’t let anyone see him like this. Especially not her. Not Ivy. Anyone but Ivy. “I wont force you to open the door. I just want to make sure you’re OK.” Her voice sounded so sad, so scared for him. Just like... just like his own mother would when he would come back from school or the factory. Bloody and bruised from the other children beating him. It wasn’t his fault his skin was darker! His mama had darker skin then him and she was the most beautiful woman in the world! Why couldn’t they see that? Why couldn’t his papa see that he was hurting them? Couldn’t Papa see that Mama and him didn’t like when he came home smelling like booze?

“Alastor? Are you alright? Please... at least let me know you’re alive.” Oh right. Ivy is still out there. Her voice was laced with tears as she spoke. He shook the memories away. This is no time to go down memory lane. “I’m alive. There is no reason to worry.” He forced out. Trying to make his voice seem normal. Ivy sighed from the other side of the hatch. “Thank God you’re alive.”

God wasn’t here. If he was, he wouldn’t care about someone like Alastor. Not in the way his mother and Ivy did. Alastor wasn’t someone who was easy to care about. He made sure of it. Never again would he let anyone close to him. He tried that once, and look where that got him. Fighting for his life on the floor of his destroyed radio tower. Where was God when you needed him? God wouldn’t tuck him into bed with a lullaby. God didn’t make him treats when he was sad. God wouldn’t scratch behind his ears when he was stressed. God didn’t put lavender in his room to help him sleep. God only had his father come home smelling like booze and death. God let a 7-year-old risk his life in a factory all day every day just for the hope of being able to eat at the end of the week. If God existed, he gave up on humanity a long time ago.

A folded piece of paper was shoved through the hatch. He started to crawl towards it. “We won. Adam is dead and the extermination is no more. Charlie is already making plans to rebuild the hotel. I was able to sneak them.” It certainly looked like something Charlie would call a plan. It looked like it was ripped right out of her notebook. Sketched on with a pen with colorful notes made around circled sections. Music notes of Charlies favorite song were going to be a center-piece of the front. Husk, Niffty and Angel would be getting upgraded rooms all to themselves. Lucifer, ugh, would be getting his own personal suite. Across from that, on the other side of the building, was a black tower. Circled with a red glitter-gel pen. Alastor’s New Radio Tower!!!! <3

Charlie added his radio tower into the plans? It looked... nice. Built into the building instead of smashed on like his old one. What was this warm feeling? It couldn’t have been the blood from his wound, that wasn’t near where the feeling was. The feeling was in his heart. Was he... emotional? Someone else had thought of him. Added something specific especially for him. It even looked like something he would design himself! Maybe they aren’t as stupid as he once thought.

Slowly, he opened the hatch for her. Ivy only had to straighten out her stance To enter the tower. Being a 10-feet-tall Orchid Mantis helps sometimes. Immediately she saw the wound. He couldn’t have looked much better in comparison. “Alright. Sit against the wall. I’ll see what I can do to help.” To this day, he still doesn’t know why he listened to her so quickly. That’s what he tells himself at least. He could tell that she was having trouble maneuvering around the tower with her size. She didn’t say anything though. Too focused on the bleeding wound in Alastor’s chest. “Alastor, I do apologize. However, I need you to remove your coat and shirt. Only if you’re comfortable with me touching you that is.” She was always so gentle with him. Never glared at him. Never... made him sad. He removed his hand from the wound.

The sudden air on the wound made it sting. Badly. He gave an unconscious hiss at the feeling. A warm hand cupped his face. “There there. It will be alright.” He leaned into her hand as his shoulders relaxed. He felt her slowly unbutton the rest of his coat with her other hand. She removed her hand from his face to help him out of his shirt. Alastor hasn’t been this vulnerable with someone in a very long time. It felt... nice to have someone else take care of him. Even if he had to almost die to get it.

But that’s not what happened. She had been caring for him for months. Caring for all of them really, but she seemed to give Alastor extra attention. Did she sing lullabies to the others? Or teach them how to play guitar? He doesn’t think so. He knows he’s selfish and cruel. It’s part of what makes him such a good Overlord and business partner. He knows that Charlie’s whole thing is to be as good a person as possible to try for redemption, but what could it hurt to be selfish about this one thing?

A hot stinging pain shot up from his wound. “Shh shh shh. It’s alright. It’s just the anti-septic.” He didn’t even notice the medical kit she brought. He felt her scratching just behind his ears. His breathing evened out as she pet his head. “Now, I’m going to have to stitch it up. I’m warning you now cause it’s going to hurt.” was his wound really that bad?

One look told him yes. Yes it was that bad. He heard fabric ripping. Looking up, Ivy had ripped off a piece of her skirt, folded it up, and was holding it up to his face. “Bite down. This will hurt.” So he did. His sharp teeth somehow not tearing through the soft fabric.

Alastor doesn’t know how long he stayed there. Sitting against the wall of his radio tower. Being stitched up for what felt like eternity. If it were anyone else, they would have been dead before the needle broke skin. The needle and thread going in and out of his skin was torture. Even still, Ivy tried to comfort him. “You’ll be alright.” I’m almost done.” Just a little more.” “You’re doing great.”.

How did a woman like this end up in Hell? Oh right, she killed her husband and ate his head. He keeps forgetting that.

Finally, the torture is finished and Ivy finished all the stitches. She began to wrap them up so they didn’t come out. “You did great Alastor. I’m so proud of you.” Those damn words. Why does she always know what to say before even Alastor does? “Who... who killed that prick?” he finally managed to strain out, not trying to make his voice seem normal.

Ivy gave a soft smile as she helped him into his shirt and coat. “You’ll never believe me, but Niffty is the one who killed Adam.” She laughed. Alastor loved that laugh. It meant that everything would be OK. “He was so busy insulting us that he didn’t even notice Niffty sneaking up behind him.”. Seems as though celebration is in order. “Can you stand?” Alastor tried. At least, likes to pretend he did. He was just so tired. His legs ‘gave out’ under him. Seems he’s a better actor then he thought. Ivy bought it hook, line, and sinker.

“Why don’t I carry you back? I’ll make sure the others don’t see.” Alastor gave her a nod. In an instant. He was being cradled in her arms like a child. He didn’t care if the others saw in that moment. She just felt so... warm. So safe and comforting. He closed his eyes and pretended. He pretended he was a child again. Being carried by his mama off to bed after a long day of working and whatever meal his darling mama was able to whip together. He could even hear her humming Alouette to him again. Oh wait, that was Ivy. He didn’t care. He fell asleep all the same. Perhaps God hasn’t given up on him yet. After all, he did send an Angel his way.

[books-of-the-great-leviathan]

Chapter 22- Luca

***

This room didn't face the sea. No glitter of wave-light on its white stone, no gulls squabbling over fish guts. The walls were cedar-paneled, their sweet scent a far cry from salt wind, tar, and sweat. It unsettled Luca to not hear the whisper of waves or the thud of the current against a ship's hull, the floor too steady underfoot, his body not yet found its land-legs.

Officially the rooms weren't a cell, but Luca knew it wasn't to give him the illusion of comfort. Isabella likely wanted all rumor caged. Throwing him and Cereza into one of the cells beneath the Palace would little help her.

Still, Luca had to admire the view. Over the edge of the balcony spilled Valeris, a sea of red roofs and whitebrick buildings, agoras and canals glittering in the sun, the broad Vie like an arrow pointing straight to the unseen ocean. The sounds of water traffic and cackling gulls drifted up to him, a faint wisp of factory smoke bitter on the wind. Blue flags still snapped high- a crowned hawk, for Isabella's recent coronation. Somewhere a bell rang, bronze voice tolling long through the sun-drenched air.

His city. His home. Once he'd thought he would never see it again. He might never, not as a free man.

"You are no longer prince of Lapide," Isabella had told him as she marched them to these rooms. "You're not prince of anything. You gave up that right."

She wasn't out of place- he'd made his choices, and as far as consequential matters went, being a prince was far down on the list- but all the same it stung. The one thing he did that mattered, the one thing in his life of uselessness that he was truly proud to have done, and it had cost him his birthright, his title, his place in these halls of great queens.

Valeria wasn't always a queen, he reminded himself, and she stood thirty feet high in marble and bronze in the grand agora below.

Valeria. Who was she, truly? The Aiatar's ghost had raised more questions than answers. What had she done before she came to Lapide's shores? What other islands had she touched? Was Lapide only the last of her conquests?

Frustration flared through him. He needed those answers. He needed to leave this damned room.

He retreated through the balcony doors. A guard accompanied him, one of Isabella's Falcii, silent and stone-faced. The wall panels were carved with cavorting orkwives, the canopied bed altogether too fine for his callused hands and new scars. He ducked to give himself a glance-over in the mirror, ruffling his hair, adjusting his lace cuffs, running his hands down the blue velvet folds of his coat. Its long split sleeves hung near to his knees, intricately embroidered with golden heartlain. Gilt dusted his skin, his hair, his eyes lined in dark kohl, each fingernail painted deep blue, the same stuff the priestesses stained their feet in.

He looked too clean. He felt too clean. Under the paint his face wasn't right anymore- too many scars, his nose too crooked. Maybe he fit his old titles as poorly as he did his old clothes.

So proud, his mother might have said, smoothing down the hair he'd just ruffled out of place. I know what it is to be the left-over child. You have to make your own pride.

His throat tightened. He pressed his hand to his face. The ache in his chest deepened, burrowing down to his heart.

Luca made himself breathe, cleaned the smears of gold paint from his fingers, and without sparing the Falcii another look went through to Cereza's room.

She wasn't alone. A pair of maids dressed her at the mirror; she had both arms outthrust while the other girls flitted around her, lacing stays, arranging the folds of her slip. She saw him in the mirror. Her eyes were red, her cheeks flushed. She'd been crying.

"Triune," she muttered. "Could that codpiece be any bigger."

He crossed the room and sank into the chair by her mirror. "I was going to say you look lovely, but I take it back. You're hideous."

She slid her arms through a silver-blue gown, bright with eel-scale spangles. Her head dropped, but Luca could still see her eyes, bright as the spangles on her dress.

"Cee," he murmured.

"Bell wants to see us. In Mother's...in her office."

"I know."

"I don't...I can't...I can't see her in there. Where Mother was. Where she should be. It...it can't be true, about her, about...Enzo, about everything. Why would he do that to us? He was our friend, wasn't he?"

Luca shook his head. "I don't know."

Tears spotted the front of Cereza's dress. One of her maids wordlessly handed her a handkerchief.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Would you...would you leave us alone, please?"

They departed, the Falcii retreating to the doors, eyes averted. It was, Luca thought, the best they would get. Cereza crushed the handkerchief into a ball.

"Is it true, you think?" she asked. "What Mother did. That she was the one to start the war. That she killed her own sister for the throne."

"She was ruthless enough."

Cereza's mouth twitched. "She was that." She faced him. "Was it our fault?"

"No-"

'"Was it? Our leaving? Did that lead to our mother's death?" She stopped, her cheek trembling. "Was I worth this, Luca?"

"Yes," he said, but he saw in her eyes she didn't believe him.

"Do you think that's the only way it can go?" she pressed on. "Do you think it always has to end in hurt, and anger, and pain, no matter how hard we might try otherwise?"

Luca rubbed the bridge of his nose. Hells, he was tired. "Cereza-"

"Don't lie to me, Luca. Don't you dare."

"I wasn't about to, gull-brain." He lifted his eyes to hers. "I think we're going to find a way."

She knelt at his side, took his hands, and held them, tight. "All this tinsel talk is going to make me sick."

"I'll stop. It wouldn't do for you to vomit on this magnificent velvet."

"You're an ass. Do you really think we'll find a way?"

"We'll find something, Cee." He lifted his arm, and she folded herself under it, but all Luca could think of was the harpoon in his hand, Cereza's heart silent under him, a promise he'd made to a dying god, a promise he didn't know if he could keep.

***

Isabella was waiting in their mother's office, sitting at her desk, silhouetted by the deep blue afternoon sky behind her. Puppy lay curled in a cage on the desk, eyes downcast, ears drooping. The day had begun to ripen into evening, and the shadows were long and dark, the eyes of the heads hanging from the austere walls glimmering in the gloom.

Isabella didn't look at them for a moment, but finished writing a short letter. She wrote clumsily, using her left hand- her off hand. Her right was gloved.

"Is that my execution warrant?" Luca asked.

She scattered sand over the ink. "No. It's an order to the front lines. I am conveying my wishes to my admirals, strengthening the blockade at the sea border and my armadas at our island harbors beyond."

"You're preparing for attack."

"I intend to attack first."

"Is that wise?"

"You didn't see what I saw." She stamped the wax with the hawk seal, then handed the orders to a waiting steward. "Enzo has weapons at his disposal. Terrible weapons. He already burned Pavaloir. I do not intend to let him do the same to Valeris. Would you?"

"I don't think you much care about what I have to say."

She gave him a flat look. "Would you be here if I didn't care?"

"So gracious of you. Where's Sirin?"

"The witchborn is where she belongs."

Cold splintered through Luca's heart. "You haven't-"

"She's alive." Her eyes narrowed, searching Luca's face. "Triune, Luca, don't tell me you're worried about her."

"It's because of Sirin that Cereza and I are alive. She's...she isn't what we thought, Bell. She's so far from what I imagined-"

"Oh." Leather creaked as Isabella leaned back in her chair. "Oh, I see. We've all heard stories of witchborn whispering minds to their will, but I've never heard of hearts. Tell me, is yours still inside you? Or did she rip it out to keep as a pet, feeding it tears to control its every whim?"

Luca didn't take her bait. "Where is she?"

"Imprisoned. Chained."

The cold spread through his body. "I made her a promise that she'd never feel the weight of Lapidaean chains again-"

"And I owe Lapide protection. I nearly cost my people everything. I do not intend to fail them again."

Silence fell, seething and strained.

"I mean what I say," Isabella went on. "I brought you here so you can tell me why you returned. All of you. The witchborn is only alive because of you, Luca, and because whatever else you are, you remain my brother."

She touched the bars of Puppy's cage. "And now you speak of monsters."

Luca nodded. "Far beyond the borders of the Outer Sea, we found secrets. Strange truths. About the Leviathan, about witches, and magic, and history forgotten. And about us, Isabella. The name Valere. Now the beast we told you about is...slowed, by Sirin. She saved us. But it won't stay that way for long. It's compelled to come after Puppy. It'll stop at nothing to destroy it-"

"Simple." Isabella drew her stiletto. Puppy whimpered and scrambled to the far side of the cage, hair standing on end. "We kill the creature."

"No!" Luca rushed to the desk and pulled the cage toward him, letting Puppy lick his fingers in relief. "I don't know what will happen if one of them dies. That's why the monster has to live. Both halves of the whole."

"You want me to not destroy a storm-bringing monster that even now, according to you, is raging its way toward Valeris?"

"That's..." Luca shook his head. "Look, Bell. I need to find more about Valeria. Where she might have come from. Who she was before Lapide. Anything. The ruins, the Aiatar- there are answers with them. I know there are. And Lapide is the only other island I am sure she came to. She wasn't who we thought she was, Isabella-"

Her face drew tight. "What are you suggesting? That Valeria was some pagan whale-worshipper, like you? That our family was founded by a liar and a traitor?"

"Would you believe me if I proved that so?"

"Valeria freed Lapide," Isabella said, her voice low in her throat. "She gave it its glory. And it is up to me to make it glorious once more. Mother thought she knew what was right for Lapide, but she was wrong. I don't intend to make her same mistakes."

"And what were her mistakes, do tell?" Luca asked. "Starting the war or negotiating the means to end it?"

Isabella 's gloved hand curled into a fist. "I intend to end this war. I intend to see Lapide made great again."

"Careful," Luca said. "I'm sure Daval Belmont once said the same."

Her face tensed. "I won't hear you slander our ancestor. Not...not now, Luca. This is not what Lapide needs."

"What Lapide needs? Hells take the war, and your queenly aspersions with it. None of them will matter when that monster comes." He drew a measured breath. "I don't want to threaten your crown. I only want to put right what I made wrong."

"Put right? Mother is dead, Luca. She died because she thought you and Cereza were gone, and she was too deep in grief to defend herself-"

"She died because of atrocities she committed. If you don't want to see that then you're just as bad as she was."

"What do you know about it? You weren't there. You left us all behind to pick up your pieces, so you could chase some mad scheme."

Luca's nerves crackled. He pointed at Cereza. "Some mad scheme that saved our sister. She'd be dead if not for me."

"Leave me out of this," Cereza muttered.

Luca barely heard her. "You were ready to throw her on the pyre yourself because breaking her curse you deemed too damned inconvenient."

"Inconvenient?" Isabella gasped. "We were at war!"

"Yes. And we're still at war. Some queen you've shaped up to be."

"Why do you hate me so much, Luca?"

"What's not to hate? Vicious, arrogant-"

"I could say the same regarding you. Foolish, childish-"

"-Cruel and hard-headed and bloodthirsty-"

"Stop." Cereza's voice cut over theirs. "Both of you. What would Mother say if she saw you now, squabbling like a pair of groaks?"

Luca opened his mouth to argue, but Cereza's glare shut him up again.

"This argument is pointless." Isabella sheathed her knife. "You two gave up your right to make demands when you committed treason against-"

"Damn treason!" Luca slammed his hands into Isabella's desk, rattling her pens in their stand. "This is more than the war, Bell, this is more than you and me. You may have never listened before, may have counted me a fool and been right to do it, but listen to me now. The monster is coming, and when it does, if we can't stop it, more than you or I will pay."

She stared up at him with bright eyes.

"I have heard you, Luca, and I have made my decision," she said. "You stand accused of high treason. When this war is won you will face your charges against Lapide, against your duty as a Valere, and against your queen."

"Wait-"

"Falcii," Isabella called. "Get this traitor out of my sight."

She stood as the Falcii escorted them away, then turned, facing the windows and Valeris beyond, her hands at her sides, her shoulders shaking- though from anger or from tears, Luca couldn't tell.

He kept his gaze downcast as they left the office, but his mind was awhirl. He glanced to the side and met Cereza's eyes. They were bright, insistent, and he knew she'd noticed too. They both knew their sister well, and knew that even as queen she wouldn't have passed up any opportunity to inform Luca of her advantages against him. She hadn't mentioned the Fishcutter, so there was little chance Irene and her crew had been captured.

Isabella had Sirin. She had Puppy. She had them surrounded by guards, by odds insurmountable, by her own will, certain they wouldn't be able to escape again. But there had been no talk of pirates. No talk of witches, either.

Isabella didn't have Niive.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

better luck next time

a/n: bullying, manipulative behavior, noncon touching/groping, power dynamic(s), possessive/obsessive behavior, dark content, reader is genuinely distressed

pairing: bully! eren x fem!reader ft armeeen

The blond merely thins his lips, and you wonder why the silence feels so heavy in the air. You had just spilled your heart out (not all, some things you needed to keep to yourself) and all you're met with is a pregnant pause.

Armin clears his throat, eyes not meeting yours, "Thank you for sharing this with me. I know this must be difficult and we will do our best to...see that you get the help you need."

There's another awkward silence. You part your lips but don't say anything, and your body sticks to the leathery chair. The student council's president's office is nice, with all dark wood paneling and large windows. The kind of place you had no business in being.

You can't help your leg from bouncing like crazy, a nervous tic you formed ever since you were very young.

He clears his throat again, "We commend your bravery but please beware that serious allegations require a serious and heavy investigation."

"Wait, I" you interrupt a second time, bunching up your skirt in your fist in a frazzled gesture, "I don't need anything like an investigation."

You look downwards, averting the ocean of his eyes.

"What you're asking for," Another sigh, silence in the room except for the squeak of chairs and incessant tapping of your foot "...Is something that we don't oversee."

Meekly you respond, "I don't think I'm asking for a lot. I just...don't want to be around him."

"I don't have the authority to impose tha-"

"No," You cried out desperately, "You do. You do. I'm not asking for anything--he can have everything. His spot on the team, scholarships, whatever-I don't care!"

The voice crack at the end of your sentence doesn't go unnoticed and the blond with his impenetrable composed demeanor merely looks at you with the slightest of pity in his eyes.

"I'll see what I can do."

Your head snaps forward and words of gratitude rush out of your mouth, so distracted you don't hear the doors open.

"Damn Armin, did I leave my water bottle here again-?"

The world stands still. Too shocked to turn around, you know that voice from anywhere. Could pick it apart from the loudest crowd you've ever known.

No time for you to pray that he won't see you. But maybe he has some supernatural sense because you can practically hear the smirk in his voice when he addresses the blond: "Woah Armin, didn't think you knew my favorite girl."

This time you turn around.

Eren in all of his glory, wet dark hair clinging to his forehead, clad in a t-shirt that showed off his muscles, and a pair of school shorts that sat low on his carved hips. He must have come up straight from practice.

"You can't just come here whenever you want Eren-" The blond sounds more exasperated than stern.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry." He says dismissively, not sounding particularly sorry. He paces around the office like it's a second home like it's a space he's used to infiltrating and having no respect for.

You're not hyperventilating. No, you're still. Like a body of water. Like an undisturbed river.

An arm is thrown over your shoulder. He smells soapy, he must have just had a shower. A shower to wipe all the impurities of the day you muse.

"Didn't know y'two were friends." There's no real threat to his words but they're spoken carefully as if warning the other to tread lightly. Armin glares at the green-eyed boy, "Don't draw conclusions from nothing. Miss [] merely used the proper channels to address a matter to the council."

Your heartbeat thrums in your chest like a caged songbird begging to be let free. You stand up from your seat so fast it would have sent you in a dizzying spell if not for the iron-clad grip on your wrist holding you down. He's half crouching, but in a second, like it's second nature, manhandles your body until you sit on his lap, thighs splayed open.

Maybe he doesn't deserve the blame when you just let him like your body was just following routine. Like it's done this before.

"Oh? What was the matter?" A hand rubs your thigh, fingers tracing out circles underneath your skirt to access the soft flesh underneath.

The blond averts his eyes, "That c-conduct is not appropriate."

The dark-haired boy rolls his eyes, "Not what I asked." He pinches the fat of your thigh, and you're too scared to even whimper, "She likes this." He reminds you of a shark in the way he bares his teeth, but he's too cunning to be a shark.

"We keep our discussions with the student body confidential." He could have sounded so assertive if not for the way his voice waned.

Eren leans further into the leather chair, and you're mortified. Armin's face is bright red and you hope he can't see your panties from this angle.

"Oh is that so?" Eren hums, green eyes following the minute hand of the clock.

"Well if it's confidential..." Hands cup your breasts and you hold in your breath, and soon nimble hands begin unbuttoning your blouse, "Guess what's said here can't really leave this room, right?"

The blond doesn't look away, as if transfixed by the color and lace of your bra, the skin spilling over. But he finds himself within a moment's notice: "Eren...leave."

A pause.

"And take her with you."

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Dream smut or fluff where reader and him are high key mean to eachotjer despite having so many mutual friends, but then something (very vague i know I’m sorry) makes them have to get close and the develop feelings? Sorry I’m shit at requests but thank you!!!

i know this is shitty im sorry akjsdh bls forgive me

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

± warnings: dream being a dick, slight slut shaming, toxic behavior, vulgar/suggestive mentions and language, sexual harassment on a bus (not by dream, you can breathe)

⋆ song recommendation: When the Night is Over by Lord Huron

You pulled a blanket beneath your chin, yawning slightly at whatever the tv was playing. You only had it on in an attempt to drown out the noises coming from your roommate's bedroom as she smoozed her date. You were honestly shocked the two hadn’t moved in together yet with all the time they spent wrapped up.

Her door opened, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of you sprawled out on the couch. He marched toward you quietly, hovering over your shoulder. You peered up at her hesitantly. “What are you watching?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper. You furrowed your brows, opening your mouth to speak but she hurriedly cut you off. “Do you mind watching it at Nick’s instead?”

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kicking me out again?” She gave you an apologetic smile, making you roll your eyes as you stood up and pulled on your jacket. “This would hurt less if they also paid rent,” you mumbled, with a small glare.

She thanked you repeatedly, holding onto your arm as you gathered what little belongings you needed for the night. “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she courted, opening the door for you. “Tomorrow, dinner’s on me okay?” You sent her a tired look and she apologized again. She stopped you as you stepped out into the cold night, leaning through the space between the door and the frame. “Maybe you can cozy up to that Clay guy? You guys have such a good vibe,” she mocked, making you chuckle lightly.

You shook your head, waving to her. “Enjoy your night. Please, for the love of God, clean the bathroom afterward,” you called, hearing her laugh at your statement.

The bus ride was quiet due to the time of night and the weather, both of which you didn’t mind. You knew Nick’s house would be warm and loud. Before you knew it, you found yourself in front of his apartment door, kicking at the concrete ground as you heard someone stumbling to let you inside. The door opened swiftly, Clay’s large frame blocking the light from the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe mockingly as he looked at you.

He wet his lips. “Who’s the lucky guy tonight?” He joshed.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past his body to get out of the cold. “Whoever’s dick you’re not sucking, I guess,” you quipped back, making him laugh darkly. You kicked off your shoes as he shut the door. “Where’s Sapnap?” You asked, shrugging off your jacket. You’d texted him ahead of time to ask if you could stay over, which he readily agreed to.

Clay sent you a smug look. “You guys have a fun night planned?” He made a gesture with his hand to insinuate you were there to give Nick a handjob.

You bit back a chuckle. “Why? You wanna join?” You shot back. He bit his lip and moaned pornographically.

“Cut it out, Dream,” Nick grumbled as he walked into the room. He pulled on your arm to follow him.

Dream scoffed exasperatedly. “Me? I’m not the one who started it!” He called after the two of you.

As Nick pushed you out of the room, you turned your head. “You most certainly did!” You answered. You heard him chuckle at your words as Nick shut the door to his room. You plopped down on his bed as he sat in his chair, swiveling to look at you. “Why does Dream pick at me so much?” You mumbled, fishing in your pockets for your phone.

“He’s jealous,” Nick answered absent-mindedly. “What's the date look like tonight?” He asked, referring to the reason you were there in the first place. This wasn’t the first time or the last time your roommate had kicked you out. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence for you to end up on Nick’s couch or at their place in the middle of the day with your toothbrush and a change of clothes.

You moved to lean into his pillows. “I don’t know, it's the same granola fucker she’s been hanging around,” you answered.

He rubbed his chin with a slight smirk. “There’s a subtle justice to knowing she’s still with that asshat,” he commented, making you snort.

A week later, you were on your way back to your apartment after a lecture when someone felt you up. It was the straw on the camel’s back for you as you spin around to smack the guy, stirring up a few of the bystanders. You’d walked the rest of the way home, stepping through the door to be met with your roommate and her hookup twisted together in the kitchen.

You clamped your hand over your eyes, mumbling about how you just wanted to take a nap when you were once again sent to Nick’s. You let subtle tears fall as you trudged your way across the city, hoping to get out whatever darkness you had to your attitude. The last thing you wanted to do was confront Clay looking like you did. He was like the troll with the keys to the bridge. That was really the only reason the two of you ever talked, so you knew he’d be waiting to berate you before you could get to Nick.

As you walked into the building, you spotted Clay carrying a large box, his hair slightly disheveled and his hands dirty. You knew almost instantly that he was probably attempting to fix the kitchen sink and got a call because of the size of the package. That sink had been dripping since they’d moved in, making it Clay’s mission to futz around with it every Friday afternoon. You tried helping him one time, only ending up with a deflated sense of confidence and the second wave of your childhood anger issues.

He nodded at you as you held the elevator door open for him. “What’s up, babycakes?” He chirped, popping his gum. When you hesitated to answer, he looked at you fully, scoffing. “Damn, walk of shame gone sour?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling deeply to try and calm your nerves. “I’m not really in the mood today,” you muttered, tucking your hands between your back and the wall.

He snorted, setting the box down between his feet. “You’re always in the mood! Isn’t that like your thing,” he continued to jeer. “You look like you had a fun night though-”

“Clay, stop. I’m serious,” barked at him. His expression twisting at your use of his name.

He raised his hands in mock defense. “Sorry, I thought we had---like a bit thing, um-” he cut himself off, awkwardly shoving his fists in his pockets. After a beat of silence between the two of you, the elevator came to a sharp halt on the wrong floor, the light switching to red. The two of you shared a look, knowing that the landlord was probably flipping the wrong switches again. Clay texted Nick to see what was going on.

It began to grow colder in the elevator, as it usually did. When it was off, the cold from outside usually seeped in through the elevator shaft. There was one time you were stuck in the elevator for a few hours with one of your neighbors and Karl when he had come to visit. Back then, the three of you played Uno on the guy’s phone. It was also summer, so the chill creeping up your legs wasn’t as intolerable as it was now.

You rubbed the arms of your sweater in hopes of generating some kind of warmth. Clay watched you carefully, his hands moving to grip the bar behind him. “Do you want my sweatshirt?” He offered. You shook your head, sliding onto the ground and hugging your knees to your chest. He hesitantly slumped down beside you, kicking his long legs out towards the door. The red light filling the space made his features look softer.

He nudged your arm gently with his own. “I know I’m not Sapnap, but…” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, shrugging slightly, “I mean, we’re stuck in here. We can talk about it.”

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill once again, your eyes burning and tired. “I haven’t slept with him, you know?” You stated, turning to look at him briefly before moving to sit cross-legged, planning with your fingers. “I’ve never even kissed him. I’ve never kissed anyone,” you scoffed. Clay was silent, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you intently.

Being this close to him, you could smell the smoky vanilla undertones of his cologne. The scent reminded you of a masculine version of the candle your aunt always burned when she went out for a night to spite her ex-husband.

Clay leaned his head back against the wood paneling, his soft blond hair flattening in the back to spread against the wall. You swallowed, sighing slightly. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and I’m getting groped on the bus and kicked out of my damn apartment because my roommate and her fucking boyfriend have to hook up on every surface. Nothing is sacred.” You shook your head, wiping away some stray tears with the back of your hand and sniffling pathetically. “You can keep making slut jokes, I don’t care. But I swear to God, I haven’t done anything with Sapnap. Or Karl, or Quackity. No one.”

He chuckled softly. “I know. That’s why I used to make those jokes,” he mumbled. “It was like… ironic humor. And then it got so far that the only way I knew you’d talk back to me was if I was fucking around with you,” he admitted. You chuckled slightly at his words, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, Dream,” you sighed. “I would have hooked up with you if you weren’t such an ass,” you chided. His laugh made you feel better. He held his hand out to you, more for support than anything, but as you laced your fingers with his, your heart eased, feeling safe beside him.

After a beat of silence, he spoke up again. "I can ride the bus with you now... if you want..." He offered, a shyness that seemed so foreign to his character shown through his eyes. "I promise I won't grope you," he joshed, making you roll your eyes.

"That's really not something we should be joking about," you mumbled, wiping away the rest of your tears on your sleeve.

His thumb brushed against the back of your hand soothingly. "I mask my awkwardness around you in dark humor. I'm sorry."

[ozarkthedog]

Hidden Solace

Summary: Andy finds comfort in the most unsuspecting place.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Sex Worker!Reader

Word Count: 1,929

Warnings: SMUT. Oral Sex (Male Receiving). Glory Hole Virgin. Swearing. Slight Angst?. It’s up to you to decide if he is with Laurie or not while you read this.

Author Notes: This fic is full of smut and feelings! I hope you all love this little fic as much as I loved writing it. 💙 *Credit goes to gif owner.

📖 Master list  

Reblogs and Likes are amazing! Feedback and Comments are encouraged!

This work has Adult Content. If you click “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content.

Andy’s palms were sweaty as he sat in his Audi psyching himself up.

He stared out the wind shield taking in the shady looking building with its neon sign blaring into the dark night. He was taking a chance showing up at a place like this, but he was desperate.

Andy sucked in a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

He pulled his Red Sox cap low and covered his eyes with his shades as he crossed the threshold into the XXX Store.

He heard this place was running tricks. A Glory Hole out back for paying customers who could keep their mouths shut. Andy had no problem with that.

Soft Core Pornos played on small TVs embedded into the walls with copious amounts of toys, lubes and bondage gear stocking the shelves.

Andy casually strolled down the last isle pretending to look at some magazines before sauntering over to a grimy countertop placed at the back of the building.

An older woman sat at the oversized counter engrossed in an erotic novel as Andy shifted on his feet, clearing his throat.  

The woman’s eyes flicked up to Andy before she begrudgingly put her book down.

“It’ll be $50. Cash.” She said, sounding disinterested.

He ruffled through his wallet and deposited the money in her hand trying to not raise his head.

“Down the hall. Last door on the left.” She said, pointing with her thumb to the black curtain to her left.

“Have fun.” She feigned a smile and picked her book back up.

Andy passed through the curtain and walked down the hall intent with getting to his location. Various groans, creaky wood and the smell of sex filled the air as he strode by a handful of doors before arriving to his destination.

He stood in front of the door for a moment, unsure if he could actually go through with this. Maybe he could get his money back?

He heard a set of footsteps sound at the end of the hall and without thinking he grabbed the doorknob and dove into the room.

His heart pounded heavily against his chest as he leaned against the door feeling as though he almost got caught. He laughed to himself thinking how stupid he just looked to some guy who was headed to get his rocks off.

Andy peered around the tiny room as he took his hat off and stuck the brim in the back pocket of his jeans along with his sunglasses. A small bulb hung from the ceiling producing a dim yellow hue, a bench with a box of tissues and a small cut out in what looked like a wall covered in wood paneling.

He rubbed his face with dismay. How he ever talked himself into doing this…

Andy heard shuffling beyond the wall and then a faint, female voice.

“Hello?” You ponder with a quiet tone, unsure if anyone was in the opposite room.

You learned to not look through the hole. You made that mistake once and you never wanted to repeat it. Plus, the boss man didn’t want you to know who you’d be “servicing”. Something about privacy.

Andy cleared his throat nervously, his voice sounding just as timid. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Hi.”

You smile at his apprehensiveness. It was rare that you got a Glory Hole Virgin.

“First time, huh?” Your smile coming across in your tone.

“That obvious?” Andy smirked as you let out a warm laugh.

“Yeah, but it’s ok. There’s nothing to be afraid off.” You scoot closer to the wall, the padded plastic bench you sat on crinkled under your weight.

“Why don’t you get relaxed. If you’re wearing a jacket you can hang it on the hook to the left.” You hear him shucking off his jacket in the tiny space. His movements cause the small bit of light pouring through the hole to flicker.

You motion for him to come forward when you slipped your hand through the hole, reaching out into the empty space until his hand found yours.

It caught you off guard, your hand jolting in his grip. “Shit. I’m sorry. Am I not allowed to do that?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

“It’s alright. I was just expecting a hard cock is all.” You laughed again, overcome with how sweet the man on the other side of the wall was. His larger hand encased yours until you maneuver his grip and lock hands with him.

“Oh…” He’s grateful you can’t see his face as it turns beat red. “That makes sense.”

“You’ve got soft skin.” You say, running your hands over his palm and up his wrist.

“Uh, thanks.” He responds with a dazed tone, enraptured with the way your hands feel tracing over his palm.

Andy bit his lip from the tender sensation. If your hands felt this nice on just his palm, he could only imagine how they would feel on his dick.

Blood began to pool in his cock, straining against his jeans with every trace you made from fingertip to wrist.

Boldly, you made a fist with your hand and grasped two of his fingers. Andy gasped at the lewd motion as you slowly jerked his fingers. You knew what was happening when the man went quiet.

“Are you hard?” Your lust filled voice cut through the spell Andy was under as he watched your tiny hand pull at his digits.

“Yes.” He declared, no longer ashamed of where he was.

“Good. Now, why don’t you take your cock out and let me feel all of you.”

You hear him shuffling his clothes around and a zipper sound before he speaks with unease, “Do you want me to just place it in your hands or…?”

“Yes, come here. I want to see how big you are.”

Andy stepped closer to the wall as your tiny hand wrapped around his impressive girth. You both gasp when your hand circles his rock hard length and slides down ever so slowly.

“Fuck.” Andy groaned, leaning his head back on his shoulders. Your tender touches make his blood boil.

“Does that feel good?” You ask, jerking your fist around his cock before grazing the crown with gentle caresses.

“You have no idea.”

His hips shake when you jerk his cock with a steady grip, traveling down his shaft and back up to swirl your palm around the head. Precum smears your hand prompting you to want more.

“Let me have a taste?” Your voice sounds innocent but it’s laced with a hint of yearning.

You carefully pull his cock through the cut-out in the wood paneling. His package takes up the entire hole, making him press his body against the wall when you bring his balls through to your side.

You stare at the straining appendage for a minute, overwhelmed with how thick he was. Your mouth watered and your thighs clenched together instinctively as a drop of precum leaked from the tip.

“Uh… everything ok?” Andy questions worriedly until he feels a hot swipe travel from the hairy base to the reddened tip.

His eyes slammed shut with a hearty growl when you dragged your tongue up the expanse of his girth before swirling around the head. You lick at the precum and relish it’s salty tang.

“You’ve got a magnificent cock, Sir.” You declared before stretching your mouth wide and swallowing him down.

Andy’s hips jolt forward not expecting you to take him completely in your mouth so suddenly. Your jaw stretched to accommodate his thickness as your hand fondles his sack with light caresses.

His deep, sinful moans are somewhat muffled but they hit your ears like a choir of angels.

Your bob your head on his length and jerk what you cannot fit, saliva slicking your grip as he thrusts a little in your hand. Your lips suckle at his frenulum, causing him to growl.

“God Damn. Your mouth feels amazing.”

You smile with glee around his throbbing cock, determined on getting him to fill your mouth.

Hard tugs jerk his thickness with prowess as your left hand pulls tenderly at his sack. You can’t help but vibrate his length with your joyful moans as you feel him swell over your tongue. Rarely did you get to service a cock like this.

Your core wept wantonly as you sucked on his cock. It pooled between your thighs and screamed at you to ease the tremendous ache caused by this stranger.

Andy out right whimpered when you poked at his urethra, gingerly nudging your tongue into the tiny hole.

He rested his head on the wood paneling, overcome with the intense sensations. He never had a woman use her tongue on him this way, it was devastatingly profound.

It’d been too long; he wasn’t going to last. He brought his fist up and banged on the wall with pleasant irritation.

You halted nervously, pulling off with a slurp, “Are you ok?”

“Shit- Yes. Sorry. It’s just been... it’s been a long time.” Andy sputtered. “Please, keep going.”

You heard the sadness in his voice and it tugged at your heart strings.

“A cock like this should never go a day without getting wet.” You crudely professed before taking his cock back into your mouth and sucking greedily at the bulging head, desperately needing to taste his seed

Andy felt his belly go taunt when you flicked your tongue around his cock head before swallowing him down. Your gag reflex kicked in as he met the back of your throat with a heavy punch.

He growled a low, “Fuck” as his body shook. His sack shrunk signaling his oncoming orgasm.

“Fill my mouth, Sir.” You command quickly before swallowing him down and gagging heavily around his length.

Andy’s muscles lock tight as his brain floods with endorphins. The rapture of finally hitting his peak via another person causes a full body shudder to pass through him and he cums with a strong howl.

He released his hearty load into your awaiting mouth and you eagerly swallowed it down. You slowly jerk his cock adding to the overstimulation of sucking at the tip making sure you got every last drop.

Sadly, you let his cock slip from your mouth and he pulls his dick through the hole.

You hear him panting from the powerful orgasm when he rests his body against the wall. He sluggishly stuffs his throbbing cock back in his jeans overwhelmed with the pleasure he so desperately needed.

“Um… I hope that was good for you.” Your usual meekness back in play.

Andy huffs out a laugh. “Oh, Darlin. If you only knew what you just did for me…” He trails off, not wanting to divulge too much.

You beam upon hearing how satisfied he was. Something about him made you feel different but you tried not to think about it. That wasn’t good for this line of work.

“Well, I’ll be here the same time next week… you know, if you want to stop by. Just ask for Room 6.” You hated the way you sounded, smacking your hand against your forehead. This wasn’t a restaurant.

He waited a minute before he speaking, twisting his ballcap in his hands.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect coming here… so thank you. Honestly.” His voice was full of sincerity and longing. You wished you could see his face; rules be damned.

He gathers his jacket, throws his hat on and shades his eyes before stepping out of the door with a smirk.

“I’ll see you next week.”

[fandomlit]

kiss her (jacksepticeye x reader)

requested by anon “hiii your jack works are SO. GOOD.!!!! Can you please write on where he’s doing a panel with Pewds and Mark, and maybe the audience asks a question that leads to him confessing to Fem!Reader on stage? thank you if you do, have a nice day/night!!”

summary while at a panel with the fearsome threesome (pewdiepie, jacksepticeye, and markiplier), you are faced with a few interesting questions. but when someone asks for the story of when you and sean first met.. chaos ensues.

a/n im sorry i’ve been on again off again w my activity!! im trying my bestest, and im still completely open for requests even if it takes me a bit to get to them!!

gif cred belongs to @painful-kindness​

you were surprised by how many cheers you received when you stepped on the panel stage. you let out a giggle as the boys all turned to you, clapping for and greeting you as you came closer to the table.

you gave them all warm hugs before you took your seat on the end, next to mark.

“hi!” you spoke into the microphone, receiving more cheers. “wow, you guys are really sweet.”

“they’re great,” mark agreed. “and now that y/n’s here, she can take some questions!” they began to cheer again.

a young girl stepped up to the mic, adjusting her glasses as she nervously spoke, “hi, y/n, im a huge fan. you’ve been a great inspiration to me since i first started watching your videos. you gave her a flattered smile. “so, my question is, what is it like working with jack, mark, and pewds?”

“oh, it’s amazing,” you giggled. “if you’re an older fan, you’ll remember that felix and i have always done things together-”

“swedes stick together!” felix called out, eliciting more cheers from the audience.

“-and when i met mark and jack..,” you shook your head, looking over to the boys with a grin. “it was amazing. right away, we clicked, and i wouldn’t dream of doing what im doing without them.” you gave the girl a smile. “you’re very sweet, thank you.”

“thank you,” she squeaked before allowing the next person to approach.

“i have a question for mark..”

as mark listened to the boy speaking, you caught sean’s eye. he raised his eyebrows at you and you let out a small giggle. then he winked and looked back to the audience innocently.

after a lo”t of laughs and stories and heartfelt answers, a very interest question was brought onto the table.

“hi, i love you all,” the girl started off by giggling. you all smiled sweetly at her. “i have a question for y/n and jack.” you and sean looked to each other before turning back to the girl. 

“go for it, hun,” you encouraged kindly. she smiled.

“what happened when you two met in person for the first time?”

you let out a delighted gasp as you turned to sean, who immediately buried his head in his hands. the crowd whooped and hollered at the reactions.

“oh my goodness, this is my favorite story!” you squealed. sean was shaking his head, which was still planted in his palms. “okay! three fateful years ago, i surprised the boys. i knew they were all in la, so i decided to pop in and ruin their weekend. the only person who knew was the cinnamontoastken.” they cheered at the mention of the american friend. “yeah, the man himself. he helped me plan it all out.

“so i got to mark’s place, and it took exactly three minutes for mark to come answer the door,” you giggled.

“to be clear,” mark sighed, leaning into his mic, “it was because we were fighting about who was going to open the door, and i lost.” he leaned back casually as the audience laughed.

“anyway,” you giggled, “mark loses his shit upon seeing me. the man yells and immediately pulls me into a bear hug.” the audience ‘awe’d. “i know, very sweet. but of course, his yell alarmed the other two, and they came to see what the commotion was all about, and felix also yelled upon seeing me. felix gave me a hug, and when sean finally saw it was me..” you turned to the irishman, who was blushing more than you had ever seen before from him. “all he could say, for half of the night, was ‘holy shit’.” the audience cooed and cheered.

“im sorry!” sean yelled. “i didn’t know what to do, i had planned out a whole trip to surprise her, and seeing her for the first time was just...” sean let out a sigh. “i was starstruck. i could barely get a coherent sentence out all night, i was such a mess.” you placed your hands on your heart. “what?”

“that’s so sweet,” you giggled.

“it’s the truth!” he exclaimed. he placed a hand on his still burning face as he whined out, “you were so pretty..” the audience cheered the loudest they had yet, along with felix and mark as you giggled and flushed. sean said something after that, but you couldn’t hear him over the audience.

“what?” you said softly.

sean sighed in the anticipated silence. “still are.” they burst out again, felix jumping from his chair this time to clap, mark following, and then the audience.

“hug him!” felix yelled over the clapping and cheers.

“yeah!” mark supported. you giggled as you stood from your chair, turning to jack and holding out your arms. felix and mark stood back as sean slowly rose from his chair, moving over to hug you as the audience cheered even louder.

“kiss her!”

“yeah, kiss her!”

the chant rose up in the crowd as you two pulled away from each other, both equally as red. sean turned his face to yours as you stared out into the crowd and giggled. but before you could pull away from him or even think about it, sean carefully turned your face to his and placed his lips on yours.

the crowd cheered as you laced your arms around his neck, both of you pulling each other closer as the audience let out a collective eardrum-bursting cheer.

when you both finally disconnected, your heart was going absolutely crazy. sean grinned at you with a heaving chest, his eyes sparkling so ecstatically and nervously. you almost pulled him in for another kiss, when you were interrupted by felix saying something into a mic, and you remember where you were.

because even though you were on stage in front of hundreds of fans, looking into sean’s eyes made it feel like it was just you and him.

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Fire Alarm

Pairing: Kirishima x crushing!reader

Warnings: Cold nights and shirtless Kirishima. Also some group snuggling??

Author’s Note: 

This drabble here is short and sweet, featuring my favorite boyo Kirishima! It’s partially based on this panel from the manga (and my own thirst lol). I know there’s some faulty logic here and there in this, but I had fun writing it so here we are. Anyways I hope you like it! There’s not a lot of romance in this one >:( but I had fun thinking about it.

I simp for this man and also I love him. Just in case that wasn’t clear.

Love you!

-Sugar

<<<─────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────>>>

<<<─────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────>>>

The only thing worse than waking up to your alarm clock in the morning is waking up to a fire alarm in the middle of the night.

It took a moment for the blaring sound to fully wrench you from your sleep. By the time you’d registered what the sound even was, your door was already being thrown open.

“(L/N)! We need to evacuate now! Don’t you hear the emergency alarms?!”

You were just able to make out the form of Tenya Iida in your doorway. Through your daze, you noticed that he was still wearing his striped blue pajamas. Groaning to yourself, you slid out of bed, half-asleep. You hadn’t even bothered to leave behind your blanket, letting it drape around your shoulders as you shuffled out of your dorm room.

Iida ushered you and a few other bleary-eyed classmates down the stairs and out of the Heights Alliance building, and it wasn’t until he held the door open that you remembered just what time of year it was.

“Seriously?!” you complained as a blast of cold air hit you. Grumbling, you followed the small crowd of your classmates to the other group of those who were better at getting out of bed.

“Is that everyone from 1-A?” Iida’s voice rang out.

People glanced around for anyone who might be missing, and after a few seconds, they mumbled an affirmative.

“What are we going to do now?” Mineta whined, shivering just about as much as everyone.

“We have to wait for Aizawa sensei to give us the okay that we can go back inside,” Iida said, chopping the air.

“How long is that going to take?” Ashido asked.

Iida turned to the building, inspecting it. “Well, I can’t see anything from here, so it was probably a false alarm. But we can’t be certain until it’s professionally checked out, so no one’s going in until one of the adults tells us it’s okay to.”

A few more of your classmates grumbled at his ruling. No one made an attempt to argue, however, since they knew he had a point.

Suddenly, you heard Uraraka gasp a few feet away from you. “It’s Tsu!” she said, trying to hold up her friend’s limp body. “She’s going into hibernation! It’s too cold.”

“Here.”

A voice beside you brought warm bubbles rising through your chest. Even in the dark of night, you could make out the spiky red hair of your good friend and long-standing crush, Kirishima Eijirou. You watched with everyone else as he stripped off his oversized sleep t-shirt and offered it to Uraraka.

“Let her take this,” he said. “It’s not much, but maybe it can help.”

“But, Kirishima,” the brunette protested, “you’re going to get too cold!”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he said, flashing that perfect smile that never failed to make your knees weak. “I’m super tough and manly! This won’t bother me at all. It’s just a little chilly.”

“Kirishima, there’s literally snow on the ground,” Jirou pointed out in a tired tone.

He shrugged, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles rippled with that simple action. “I’ll manage. That’s what heroes do.”

Uraraka finally turned to Tsu, helping her into the loose black t-shirt. There was a tiny part of you that was almost jealous that she was the one wearing Kirishima’s clothing, but you quickly squished the feeling down. It disgusted you that you could think such thoughts when your friend was struggling like this with something she couldn’t control.

“Iida,” Midoriya began, “I think you should run over to the school and try to find a teacher. Asui—erm, Tsu needs to get back inside soon.”

Iida nodded curtly. “Good idea, Midoriya. You’re right. Todoroki, would you keep Asui warm with your left side? Yaoyorozu is in charge until I get back, alright?”

The class nodded in assent again, and with that, Iida was off in a burst of speed from his calf engines.

People began to break off into small groups to huddle against the cold. Luckily it wasn’t too windy, but none of you had had time to grab a coat, or even shoes in some cases. Most of the girls were huddling around Todoroki, with Tsu clinging to his left side in the center. Some of the other boys were standing shoulder to shoulder, with a few hugging into Shoji's limbs for extra warmth. Even Bakugou stood on the fringe of the cluster of boys, scowling at the ground.

You were hardly affected, grateful that tonight of all nights you’d decided to wear warm pajamas. You also had your blanket, which worked wonders against the chill night air.

It was then that you took notice of Kirishima again; still shirtless and blatantly trying to hide the fact that he was shivering. You wandered over to him, calmly tapping him on the shoulder to get his attention. He turned to you, and you tried to ignore the way it felt when his eyes landed on yours, and the stupid, excited feelings that erupted as soon as he grinned at you.

“Hey, (L/N),” he said, and you had to applaud the way he kept his voice deceptively steady against his chattering sharp teeth.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly realizing that you were unsure how to phrase your proposition you had spinning in your head. “Um, do you—do you want to share my blanket? You’re the only one—um—not wearing clothes.”

He glanced down at his bare chest and then to the blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. “I wouldn’t want to take it from you,” he said, his lower lip jutting out slightly as his gaze trailed to the ground. “Besides, I really am fine here.”

You pouted a little. “You’re going to get sick, and I’d be sad if you got sick.” You untucked a corner of the blanket out from under your arm. “And you wouldn’t be taking it, we can share. We’re friends, right?”

Kirishima considered for another moment, chewing on his lower lip before finally letting out a breath. “Alright, fine.”

He ducked under the half of the blanket you offered him, tugging it around his shoulder. You shuffled closer to him, and even through the sleeves of your pajamas, you were able to feel how cold his skin was.

“Kirishima-Kun,” you mumbled, “you’re freezing.”

He shrugged and frowned, keeping his eyes ahead and away from yours. “I’ll be fine,” he brushed off. After a few beats, he seemed to change his mind. “Actually, this is much better.” He finally looked at you again. “Thank you.”

You were thankful to the darkness for hiding your blush. “You’re welcome.”

Everyone stood where they were for a few more minutes. You couldn’t tell whether you wanted this all to end so you could go back inside or if you wanted to keep standing here pressed up against your crush.

You didn’t have to decide for yourself, however, since Iida soon came back with Aizawa sensei himself.

“Okay, kids,” the teacher said in his perpetually tired voice, “you can go back to your rooms now. The alarms went off because of a programming malfunction.” He continued talking as he unlocked the doors with a swipe card. “You were supposed to have a surprise drill today at one o’clock PM, not AM. Sorry.”

He held the door as the twenty of you filed inside, back into the centrally heated building. Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief as warmth finally enveloped their bodies again, happy to be out of the cold.

“Off to bed with you, kids,” Aizawa said. “You still have class tomorrow. I don’t want to see anyone outside of their dorm rooms in five minutes. Good night.”

Everyone made their way towards the elevator, and Kirishima finally slipped out from under your blanket.

“Thanks for looking out for me, (L/N),” he said, giving you another heart-melting grin.

“It was no problem,” you said, smiling down at the floor. You piled into the elevator with everyone else, and within seconds, the lift dinged to signal that you had reached the second floor.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kirishima said as you made your way to the doors.

“Yeah.” You grinned sheepishly again and adjusted your blanket around your shoulders. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Back in your room, you scarcely even bothered to climb under the other covers you had on your bed. You were still wrapped in the one that had just been around both yours and Kirishima’s shoulders. To your delighted surprise, if you concentrated enough, you could just barely make out his scent laced into the material. Maybe the unexpected wake-up call wasn’t so bad, because now you could sleep with the memory of Kirishima’s arm pressed against yours.

<<<─────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────>>>

Taglist: @basicaegyo​​ @iiminibattlehero​​ @katsugay​​ @nabo39​​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sendhelpimstupid​​ @xoxopam4​​ @aahilovetheatre​​ @kay39​​ @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @soft-enbee​​ 

[cloverque]

departure (haiba lev)

出发 (灰羽 リエーフ)

a departure doesn’t always guarantee a return

4128 words

post time skip! model lev, fiances, angst, concept of waiting, alt ending (w/ closure)

a (reuploaded) req for a certain lev lover <3

Haiba Lev wasn’t the most level headed person. He was blunt, foolish, assertive, and sometimes, a simpleton. And yet, despite his innumerable flaws, you loved him.

You adored the discordant, entwined, looping threads that made up for who he was, his strengths and weaknesses, every fibre of his being. Furthermore, your love was unyielding; a delicate yet persistent wild flower, sprung from the cracks in concrete.

Your love for the male stemmed from your starting days in high school. It was a random encounter, in which he bumped into you in a hallway, and then somehow, you began fawning over the half Russian.

Inconspicuously, you would watch him from afar: walking by the gym to sneak glances, matching up your schedule with the volleyball club’s, just to catch glimpses of him during their laps around the school.

You were fascinated with the long limbed teen’s energy and presence on the court. He was handsome too, his facial and body structure flawlessly sculpted by God himself to be the epitome of masculinity.

Your puppy love and admiration for him motivated you to travel far and wide to watch his volleyball matches, with hopes that maybe one day, Lev would notice you.

Lev wasn’t the brightest with a few things, with consciousness of his surroundings topping his list. Your encounter with him had slipped his mind, since it meant only so little, and he never realised you were in the same cohort, for pete’s sake.

If it weren’t for Kenma, who had pointed you out among the spectators, he wouldn’t have realised you always watched their matches. So he decided to approach you after one, and asked if you were from Nekoma High. You were momentarily stunned, then gave him a radiant smile, one so bright he would never forget.

After that, the two of you hit it off effortlessly. Within a few months, your freshly sprouted friendship with Lev blossomed into something more. Years passed, both of you graduated, and the two of you were still going strong, happily dating. The now esteemed model and you even began contemplating on a larger milestone, one which would change both of your lives forever.

That is, until Lev received an ominous phone call that presaged the end of your current chapter.

It happened too quickly to say for sure what was going on. He had told you the night before, as he held you in his arms, that he would be gone for a while. That he needed to attend to some personal matters back at home.

Lev’s tone was a little too quiet when he broke the news. “I… gotta leave for a while, (y/n).“ He was holding you close, arms draped around your waist and legs tangled with yours.

You stopped circling your finger around his bicep to glance up at him. Studying the distant look in his green orbs, you raised your brows. “Okay, where to?”

“Russia. My grandma wants me to return immediately.” Lev’s attention shifted from the ceiling to your curious gaze. His warm, minty breath fanned your face as he exhaled. “I think I’ll take a while.”

“Oh…” You rest your cheek on his chest, lashes fluttering close as you murmured. “I’ll miss you, but I can wait. Just don’t keep me waiting for long, alright?”

“Mhmm, okay.” Smiling tenderly, Lev peppered your skin with kisses, making you giggle. You slowly opened your eyes to take in the way the moonlight from the balcony glossed over his flawless, pale skin.

Lev’s fingers hovered over the silver band on your ring finger, lingering there before taking your hand in his. His own matching ring clinked against yours softly when you laced your fingers with his, your warm palms heating up his cold ones as you dozed off, flushed against his chest.

When morning came, he was gone. You had failed to bid him goodbye as Lev‘s egression was committed silently. The days passed like any other, and you would text him once in a while to check up on him. However, you never received a response. Not on SMS. Not on social media. Nowhere.

Days trickled to weeks, months, and by the third one, you were too overwhelmed with paranoia. After deep recollection, you realised he never told you when he would return. Surely, his departure meant a return, right?

You had asked the Nekoma volleyball club alumni and his friends of his whereabouts, and they all told you the same thing: they didn’t know. Desperate, you attempted to contact his sister Alisa, but to no avail. Both Haiba siblings were uncontactable, and the calls always went to voicemail.

Over the days, your fear and anxiety manifested into dark rings, rimming your puffy eyelids. Life went on whilst your heart and mind ran rampant, and eventually, you stopped appearing at work.

Not a day went by without you thinking of him. Your fianc�� plagued your mind and heart 24/7, and it was impossible to stop thinking about him.

Where is he? When will he return? What’s taking him so long? Why is he not home yet? Has he forgotten about me?

Did Lev forget that I’m still waiting for him?

…

The front door to your shared apartment creaked slowly, and a raven haired man in a dark suit shuffled in. He closed the door slowly, his pupils dilating to compensate for the lack of light entering the apartment. The once bright green plants lining the balcony were drooping in their eternal shade, signifying that the curtain had not been drawn in days.

The man slipped off his shoes and socks, taking notice of the unworn, white slippers by the front door, then shuffled in. You glanced up from the blankets when you heard the soft padding of feet.

Your heart threatened to leap out of your chest as your eyes grew wide with anticipation. “Lev?” You croaked, hauling yourself to a sitting position. “Is that you?”

The door slowly creaked open to reveal your colleague and good friend, Kuroo Tetsurō. Your smile faded away, and your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sorry I’m not who you think I am.” The male stood by the now open doorway, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Ever since you stopped showing up at work, Kuroo would check up on you every weekend, and sometimes the posse would tag along too. The ex-captain had your apartment’s spare key, thanks to Lev, who randomly picked the holder during your home warming party.

You glanced down at the crumpled bed sheets as he walked into the dusty bedroom. Kuroo drew open the curtains leisurely, filling the room with a dim, blue light whilst multi coloured lights from the skyscrapers across the balcony twinkled with animosity. Specks of dust scattered in the air, latching onto the nearby furniture while some drifted aimlessly. The end of the bed dipped as he sat down, and you looked up to find him scrutinising you with a furrowed frown.

“Have you been eating well?” His eyes trailed over your sunken cheeks and jaundiced skin. Your face was devoid of your usual, radiant glow.

You glanced away from his piercing amber eyes. The eyes in the photos atop the nightstand bore holes into your soul as you rasped, “Why are you here? If it’s about work, I already told you that I asked my section manager to let me work from home–“

“(y/n), that’s not why I’m here.” Kuroo interrupted with a huff. Cloth rustled as he fished his phone out of his jacket’s inner pocket. With a few soft taps, he turned to you, and showed you his screen. You squinted your eyes and unconsciously leaned closer to read the blurry, digital print.

“SUPERMODELS HAIBA LEV AND RUSSIAN ACTRESS KHRISTINA SNOW POTTED LEAVING LUXURIOUS HOTEL TOGETHER“

Your eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets as you absorbed the image below the title. It was indeed your fiancé, you could recognise his broad shoulders and otherworldly jawline a mile away.

Dressed in a crisp suit, Lev’s arm was linked with a dainty woman, whose diamond necklace scintillated under the harsh glare of camera lights. The pencil skirt clinging to her wide hips had a scandalously long slit that stopped at her upper thigh, exposing her red lacey panties by a hair length.

Both of them had sunglasses on, but only the woman had a gleeful expression, while Lev’s lips were pressed together tightly. Just like the title had stated, they seemed to be walking away from an edifice constructed of solely glass panels, and you instantly recognised it. It was a renowned, five star hotel. In Japan.

You were too stunned to say anything. Even your mind, which had been incessantly filled with nothing but your lover, was now blank. The information overload was overwhelming.

This is all too much.

Suddenly, Kuroo withdrew his phone, pulling you back to reality with it. “So, I’m guessing you didn’t know?” He raised a dark brow as he pocketed his electronic device. “The article’s from some lowly paparazzi, so I doubt anything’s true… But it’s blowing up on Twitter.”

Your eyes flickered from your trembling hands to the bed sheets as you began quietly. “I… I thought he left for Russia…” Gripping the covers on your lap, your eyes silently brimmed with tears as you continued shakily, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I’m so confused…”

Kuroo‘s gaze never left you as you began shaking uncontrollably. He knew that you were desperately fighting back your tears. It was something you did often back in high school: you would try not to cry in front of the team when they won a match, despite your voice breaks and your glassy eyes. It was something the boys found endearing, especially Lev.

The raventte cursed inwardly at his junior’s stupidity. How could he make such a lovely girl like you cry? Wordlessly, the male shifted closer and pulled you into his chest, surprising you but you didn’t retreat.

Kuroo’s gesture was nothing but friendly, after all. He patted your back reassuringly, and your bottom lip trembled as you clung onto his shirt.

Pitter patter.

Your tears fell like torrents, gushing endlessly as you buried your face into his chest. Gripping tightly onto his dress shirt, you cried into the fabric, wailing the pent up emotions you had kept at bay the past few months. You wept like tomorrow would never come.

…

A few days had passed and you finally decided to confront Lev. Seeing how he wouldn’t respond to your messengers, you decided to hunt him down and talk to him face to face. It was easy to track him down, thanks to the ‘lowly paparazzi’ website, which constantly updated his whereabouts. For once, you were grateful for his overbearing fans.

To be fair, you felt a little bad about his own privacy, but you were also too engulfed in a mixture of confusion, jealousy and infuriation to sympathise with him.

You had everything planned out, what to say and retort, and you had to remind yourself that as much as he deserved to be heard out, you also had a right to be upset with him. Especially after the emotional and mental torment he intentionally (or unintentionally) subjected you to.

But it was impossible to deny that you had hoped that he had a good explanation for everything. You prayed fervently that he would return to your arms, like he always did. Memories of past, better days solely stabilised you during this emotional period.

When the weekend arrived, you threw on a your coat and hopped into your car and drove off. Apparently, Lev and Khristina, were dining at a high class café, located in the fancier suburbs of Tokyo. When you reached there, you parked your car by the sidewalk and sauntered in, ignoring the valet who glanced at you then at your vehicle.

Honestly, you never thought you would see the day when you would resort to stalking your fiancé, just to have a talk with him. But this was no ordinary talk, and the half blood knew when he saw you walk into the café.

You were fuming, brows scrunched up with the angriest expression he had ever seen in his life. Lev jumped up in his seat, like he had seen the ghost of Christmas past, and quickly excused himself.

As he shuffled towards the entrance, he met you halfway and tugged you outside by the wrist. His strides were quick, and he hissed when you dug your fingernails into his hand in defiance.

“Let me go!” You snapped fiercely, like a tigress baring its jaws at its adversary. He released you from his hold when he reached his destination: the back alleys of the shops.

The silver haired man didn’t back away. He was looking at you with shock, hurt and something else. Was it fear, nervousness? You couldn’t tell. You were too frustrated with him.

“(y/n)… I can explain–“ He began, a hand outstretched but you cut him off.

“I told you I‘d wait, didn’t I?” You glared up at him with narrowed eyes. His aghast expression wedged the knife deeper in your heart as you inhaled. “You… You said you had to leave. And I believed you! But four months passed and you didn’t bother to contact me. Not even once…”

Lev ran a hand through his now disheveled hair, which was pushed back until now. “Please, let me explain. I had my reasons, I swear.”

You realised the engagement ring on his finger was nowhere to be seen. Your lover opened his mouth to explain when you deadpanned.

“Where’s your ring?”

Lev’s eyes widened, from fright or concern, you weren’t sure. His usually bright, green orbs would he glowing with love whenever he gazed at you, but not today.

“(y/n), I–“

“Love, who’s that?” Came a sweet, enchanting voice at the start of the alley. It was Khathrina, a long legged lady with platinum blonde hair that cascaded down her back in voluminous waves.

She blinked her thick, wispy lashes at you curiously, and you clenched your jaw in retaliation. Glancing at Lev, you hoped that he would put her in her place. Anything along the lines of ‘she’s my girlfriend’ or ‘fiancé’ would have suffice, but no. It was a far fetched dream.

“No one, my dear.” Came Lev’s response, and he walked past you, bumping shoulders into you in the process. You gasped quietly when he cast you a cold, once over behind his broad shoulders.

He had looked at you as if the two of you had never met before. It burned a hole in your stomach, and you were too stunned to react. Frozen in your spot, your facade crumbled with every step he took, further away from you and to someone else.

When he reached the woman’s side, the duo linked arms and departed without another word.

…

You fumbled with your keys for the hundredth time. It took you a whole five minutes to enter your apartment, and when you did, you slammed the door shut behind you and slumped to the floor.

What on earth was that? How could he do that to me? How is that the same boy I fell in love with?

You had driven over to confront Lev, but in the end all you got was a deeper scar. Everything made no sense, and your mind throbbed with confusion and fatigue.

Everything became blurry as tears overwhelmed your vision, and you tugged at your shirt, at the thorn embedded in your heart. It was so close yet so far and out of reach. Drawing your knees to your chest, you cried your heart out once again.

Moments passed with you laying at the entrance, gazing at the unworn white slippers speckled with dust.

…

Like before, days spun into weeks, months, and even a year. Eventually, you deserted your shared apartment and rented a place, one far away from your previous home. You had only taken your clothes and necessities, leaving behind the photo frames and everything else as everything reminded you of him.

It would be a lie to claim that you didn’t miss him, but you had partially given up when the news stated that supermodels Lev and Khathrina were now married.

It made no sense, really. Perhaps this was all a bad dream, you reasoned, fiddling with the silver band around your ring. Maybe you were in a coma, and this was all a lengthy nightmare that you would soon wake up from.

Yes, when you wake up, your fiancé would be next to you, lying in bed, chest rising in steady rhythms whilst the morning sun shines on his handsome face. Haiba would turn around to greet you good morning through half lidded eyes, and he would tuck your hair behind your ears with a cheeky, yet gentle smile.

There’s no way any of this is real…! We’ve come so far, and he loves me more than anyone can imagine.

But as time passed, you began to realise that, perhaps Haiba Lev had departed long ago.

(ALT. END)　　　　　　　　

You fumbled with your keys for the hundredth time. It took you a whole five minutes to enter your apartment, and when you did, you slammed the door shut behind you and slumped to the floor.

What on earth was that? How could he do that to me? How is that the same boy I fell in love with back then?

You had driven over to confront Lev, but in the end all you got was a deeper scar. Everything made no sense, and your mind throbbed with confusion and fatigue.

Everything became blurry as tears overwhelmed your vision, and you tugged at your shirt, at the thorn embedded in your heart. It was so close yet so far and out of reach. Drawing your knees to your chest, you cried your heart out once again.

Out of nowhere, your phone began vibrating.

Sniffling, you fished it out of your coat and accepted the call blindly. “H-Hello?” You stuttered, rubbing away your tears with the back of your hand.

“It’s me, (y/n).” The familiar warm, low voice of Lev’s filled the silent room. Your eyes grew wide in shock, and you glanced at the caller ID to realise it wasn’t his usual phone number. “I don’t have much time, I’ll be gone by tomorrow, love.”

“Tomorrow? What?” You parroted, albeit dumbly as you raked your foggy mind for clarity.

You could almost imagine the frown on your boyfriend’s face when he blabbered. “Are you crying? I mean, were you…?” His voice trailed off, and you quickly blurted out that you weren’t.

A soft chuckle graced your ears and you felt the frustration and sadness from before ebb away. Leaning against the door, you listened attentively as he directed you to a location where he had agreed to rendezvoused. No sooner had he ended the call did you fly out of the apartment.

When you reached the park, you realised it was already midnight. You waited by a willow tree he had mentioned to you, and within a few minutes, he showed up.

You had lost all your fight and gave in to temptation. Throwing your arms around Lev, you held him in a tight embrace as you buried your face into his neck. Grinning widely, the ‘skyscrapper’ wrapped his arms around your back and rest his head atop yours, humming softly.

“I missed you, (y/n).” He had whispered softly, as if he was afraid that you would disappear any moment. “I’m always thinking of you, your smile, your smell…”

Shamelessly, he pressed his face against your head and inhaled it greedily. You giggled at the warm air tickling your scalp then looked up at him with glossy, doe eyes. “I missed you too. More than you can imagine.”

“Hey, I’m here now,” and Lev’s smile began to fade as he set you down onto your feet. Taking your hand, he guided you to sit under the beautiful willow tree. “I promised I’d tell you everything, and I will.”

As the moon waned in the night sky, you listened intently as the silver haired man explained to you what had happened the past few months. He went into detail that he had received a call from his tragically ill grandmother, that she had requested for him and his sister to return to Russia to see them one last time.

And being the filial grandson he was, he accompanied Alisa back to Russia. But upon their arrival, he realised that she was perfectly fine! Her real motive was to introduce him to a fair maiden, whom she had taken a liking to, and so she did. The girl just so happened to be another model, and one of pure Russian descent.

Lev explained animatedly how upset the old lady was when he told her that he was already engaged.

Your lover raised his ring finger to show you his gleaming band, and you almost teared up at the sight. He continued with a sigh, shaking his head as he relayed that she wanted Lev to give the girl a chance.

And in the end, he was forced to be engaged to her temporarily, until the octogenarian passed on.

So for now, they were spending some time in Japan, as the girl was determined to sightsee with her short-term fiancé. But eventually they would return to Russia, so that they could spend time together with his grandma.

It was, without a doubt, a peculiar situation. But a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulders, now that you knew why they were involved for a while.

“At first I didn’t contact you because I was unsure of myself. What to say, and to think…” He took your hand in his, and raised his head, green orbs gleaming with guilt.

He was threading carefully, something he hardly did, and your heart swelled. “But then it slowly turned into something bigger than that, and I feared that you would leave me because of this mess.

“I know what I did was awful and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I hope you know how much I love you and that I think about you every single day.” Closing his eyes, he brought your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles tenderly. When he reopened them, he gave you a dejected, lopsided smile. “I always have.”

“Then why did you act like you didn’t know me earlier?” You dipped your head, sideways. “You know, in front of her?”

“I had to put on an act, just to please my granny… I didn’t mean to hurt you,” He squeezed your hand, “This is only temporary. Once it’s over, I’ll return to Japan as soon as possible.”

You swallowed the forming lump in your throat. He was about to depart again, the man you had loved for a decade.

“Promise me you’ll come back. Back to me.” Placing a hand atop his, you locked eyes with him, “Please.”

He brushed back the stray strands of hair to glimpse at your sparkling irises. Lev’s heart clenched at the eyebags under your beautiful orbs, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours.

“I promise.”

The willow branches hid two of you from the world as the two of you conversed for hours, catching up on everything that had happened. You spent the rest of the night holding each other in the secluded park, fingers entwined silently.

…

Lev departed for Russia once again when the sun rose. You had bidded him goodbye tearfully, knowing you wouldn’t be able to speak to him in, possibly, a very long time. Nevertheless, you believed in the promise the two of you had made, and that kept you going.

It was still a little sad to wake up every morning without him next to you. Sometimes, you would even mistake a morning zephyr for his breath against your skin. Watching your favourite drama series alone without his ignorant comments and boisterous laughter pained you with a smile. But despite the lonely moments, you pushed forward.

Haiba Lev wasn’t the most level headed person. He was blunt, foolish, assertive, and sometimes, a simpleton. And yet, despite his innumerable flaws, you loved him.

You adored the discordant, entwined, looping threads that made up for who he was, his strengths and weaknesses, every fibre of his being. Furthermore, your love was unyielding; a delicate yet persistent wild flower, sprung from the cracks in concrete.

And you knew that one day, he would return. After all, his departure was not permanent.　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　fin.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Closer (August x Reader)

Author’s notes: so this is both my entry for Steph’s birthday writing challenge AND her second birthday present. She gave me: August - fuck or die situation. My brain came up with the rest and the lovely @meetmeinthematinee was my beta. So @toomanystoriessolittletime I hope you enjoy this filth as much as I enjoyed the one you wrote for my birthday!

Summary: you and August go undercover to dig information on a Donaka Mark, but get caught and end up in a very unsual situation.

Pairing: August/Reader; Donaka

Wordcount: 5k

Warnings: suggestion of violence and electric shocks; smut (unprotected sex; oral (male receiving); fingering; penetration; voyeurism and exhibitionism; power play; degradation; squirting; overstimulation; choking; tiny bit of breeding kink). Yes, I did go wall out with this one. I think it broke my smut brain. LOL. Now, I tried to make sure the consent was very very explicit, but the fuck or die situation is dub-con-ish, so be warned.

It was the pounding of your head that woke you up, the headache so intense that it pulled you from unconsciousness almost like a flick of a switch but your vision was blurry, and your focus was slippery. All you could process at first was the bright morning light bleeding through the wide window panels and the softness of the bed beneath you. The sheets silky soft and smelling of fresh laundry.

“You’re awake, good.” His voice was low and gravelly, surprisingly soothing but a far cry from August’s smooth baritone so you shot to a sitting position, forcing your senses to apprehend your surroundings despite the throbbing in your head.

Sitting in an armchair only a step away from the bed was Donaka Mark, sharply dressed in dark trousers and a dark dress shirt, the first two buttons undone. His sharp brown eyes watched you with unsettling interest and suddenly your mind was flooded by the memories of the night before.

You and August were supposed to infiltrate Donaka’s illegal fight club. CIA and Interpol weren’t all that worried about the fighting itself, but there was evidence that Mark might be financing a few militias in the Middle East and providing some other unsavory services through the Silk Road. You had been the intelligence agent that picked up Donaka’s trail and Sloane had agreed that it would be a good idea for you to join August in this undercover mission. Donaka might have promising information that could aid US troops in Iraq, and it wasn’t as if August would know what to look for or even how to breach Mark’s files.

Something went wrong though. Maybe someone leaked information about the operation because before you could even try to sneak out to check the servers, Mark’s security team caught up with you and August and the last thing you remembered clearly was August trying to fight them off while you got knocked out by a prick of a needle on the back of your neck. Now here you were, apparently the morning after, still in your satin red dress, mostly likely in Donaka’s compound God knows where faced with the man himself.

You had seen pictures of him before. He was, for all intents and purposes, a real businessman in the entertainment business. You knew he was of Chinese heritage, born of a Chinese father and British mother, but grew up in the US, where he made his fortune. He was a handsome man, but there was an air about him. A certain frost in his demeanor, but mostly in his eyes that sent chills down your spine.

The way his brown gaze pinned you down, tracking your every move made you feel like prey being stalked by a dangerous predator and despite any logical reasoning, there was a throb in your center that made you deeply embarrassed.

“How’s your head?” he asked, voice perfectly pleasant, movements deliberately slow as he reached for the bedside table and picked up a glass and round pill waiting there, offering them to you. “The sedative I use tend to have some undesirable side effects.”

You didn’t reply but took the aspirin, swallowing down with the water before returning the glass to him, following his movements as he set it aside and returned to his seat, his gaze settling on you once again.

“Where’s August?” you had to force your throat to work, terror clutching your gut, especially with the smirk that surged on Donaka’s face.

“He’s somewhere here,” he gestured vaguely, and you followed the direction of his fingers towards the door.

It was ajar and for a second you wondered if you could make to it before Donaka caught you but as you shifted on the bed, your limbs seemed to be made of concrete so you very much doubted it.

“Would you like to see him?” Donaka offered in that same placid tone. You decided you hated it, still, you nodded. “I’ll take you to him, but first…” he indicated another door that stood just a couple feet away from the exit. “I’d like you to change.”

You hesitated, but did you really have a choice? Donaka might be alone with you here but he was twice your size and an apt fighter according to his file. Even if you somehow managed to take him down, he would have security around the compound and you had no idea how big it was or where August might be. Best to play along.

With slow, careful steps you walked into the bathroom, finding a pale pink lace nightgown hanging behind the door. The fabric soft and silky but completely see-through. It fitted your body perfectly, like a second skin and as you stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself, a flush rushed to your cheeks. You could see the smooth skin of your belly and the shadows of your panties beneath it.

You wondered why Donaka wanted you to wear this. Was it another form of humiliation, to make you parade around in sexy lingerie like a kept pet that he could display to the world? Well, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing your shame. With your chin held high, you stepped out of the bathroom and he looked up from his phone to glance at you, his smirk widening at the sight of you.

“Beautiful,” he moved into your personal space and his size made you swallow thickly as you had to tilt your head up to keep your gaze at him. “So, so beautiful. Turn around.”

You hesitated, of course, every inch of you opposed to giving your back to this predator but once again you knew you had no choice so you complied with his order and nearly jumped when he touched you, his calloused digits a strange contrast against the softness of the nightgown. His fingers traced a path from your shoulder to your nape, before he gathered your hair and with dexterous fingers, Donaka braided it tightly, letting the tip fall at your back.

“And for the final touch…” you heard his shift and the rustling of fabric before you were startled by the cold silver surrounding your neck and clicking close at your nape. “Now you’re perfect.”

Donaka guided you to a mirror and you swallowed the lump of desire in your throat. There you stood in flimsy lingerie, a choker of diamonds around your neck, his large hands resting on your shoulders, warm and surprisingly pleasant. You looked hauntingly beautiful and you hated it.

“Come.”

He offered you a hand and this time you didn’t even bother hesitating. Letting him guide you through the long halls of his villa, down a few stairs until you two reached an underground floor. The walls were made of bare concrete and the air was cold and damp, raising goosebumps on your bare arms.  

Down here you saw some of Donaka’s men stationed around and you could see exactly who they thought it was the real threat between you and August and you couldn’t say you didn’t agree.

At a nod of his head, one of the men pushed a door open and Donaka waited for you to step in first before he followed, the heavy metal plank clicking closed behind him, surrounding you with darkness, the damp stench here was heavier and while your eyes adjusted, the only thing you could really see was shadowy shapes.

Bright light inundated the room suddenly and your ears caught a soft wince. For the first time, you realized that slumped form in the center of the room was August, battered and bruised, hands and legs tied behind his back, breathing ragged,  cuts and wounds dotting his face; dry blood caking his hair, mustache, and stubble.

You whispered his name softly, falling to your knees to reach for him, but at the first touch of your hands he growled like a rabid animal and you pulled away startled.

“I’m afraid he put up a bit of a fight, unfortunately,” Donaka spoke from somewhere behind you, but you ignored him, too focused on the man in front of you.

“August…” you called again, inching carefully letting him see your hands until you rested it against his cheek and he let you, his blue eyes trailed on you as if he was finally processing who you were. “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

Slowly he edged closer towards you, letting you cradle his head in your lap as you brushed the hair away from his face and tried to assess the damage. August was in bad shape but nothing seemed to be particularly fatal, thankfully.

“May I have some water for him?” you asked, finally looking over at Donaka, surprised to see he was sitting on a chair watching you and August. “Please?”

There was a moment of silence and then the door opened again, another one of his men stepped inside with a bottle of water and set by your foot before leaving again. You unscrewed the cap, bringing it to August lips and helping him to drink slow sips. You had no idea how long he was down here. Probably as long as you were in that room.

“You truly care for him, don’t you?” Donaka spoke and that flush raised to your cheeks again, heating your chest and neck. “Don’t bother to deny it. I see it in your eyes. Are you in love with him?”

You looked down at the man below you that seemed to be a little more awake now, his gaze steadier and less hazy as he took in his surroundings and you. Even in this terrible state, August was beautiful and your heart thundered in your ribcage. How could you answer without compromising yourself or August?

“Does he love you?” Donaka asked and you didn’t even realize he moved until he crouched to enter your line of sight. “I mean, you know what he is, don’t you?”

Biting your lip, your attention shifted to the man on the ground again. You knew some things, having read his file. Most of it was blacked out so you knew it was bad. There was a reason he was called The Hammer after all. You knew how Sloane liked to operate. You knew that you sent in this mission to collect the data while August was sent to eliminate the threat.

“They say the prettiest faces hide the worst monsters,” Donaka ran a finger from August’s temple to his jaw and you could see the way the agent tensed under the touch. “And he sure is beautiful.”

A bright flick of metal appeared in Donaka’s hand and it took you a second to realize it was a blade. Your heart stopped for just a second as he traced the tip over August shoulder, but with a quick motion he cut off the ropes bounding his hands and legs. Just as fast as the blade appeared, it vanished and August was free. In a flash, August was on his feet, crowding Donaka against the wall of the bunker, one thick forearm pressed against the older man’s throat and the knife in his hand.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Donaka warned, seemingly completely unaffected by the threat of the blade.

“Why not?” August growled.

You screamed as sharp, electrical bolt ran through your spine, blinding you to everything around you. Good thing you were already kneeling because the shards of pain raking your body would have made you fall gracelessly. Your body was overtaken by seizures and you shook on the ground like a fish out of the water.

As suddenly as it started, the shock receded, leaving you gasping and sobbing, tears hot on your cheek; blood metallic on your tongue; muscles as if made of jelly, completely unresponsive. You could only look at August’s stunned expression and Donaka’s cold amusement.

“That was level one, and that pretty collar goes to eleven. Want to see what two looks like?” You tensed in fear, curling into a ball like a little mouse waiting for their punishment.

“No!” August shouted, letting go of Donaka and through your glassy eyes you could see the fury in his cold blue ones. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I guess he does care about you, sweetheart,” Donaka said, his smirk widening, and you could only whimper in response.

“She’s nothing,” August hissed, and his words felt like acid in your ears, making you curl into yourself even more. “She knows nothing. Let her go.”

“That I believe,” Donaka replied, and you could feel the heaviness of his stare on you. “That she knows nothing about your extracurricular activities. That she’s nothing…”

Donaka clicked his tongue and his shadow fell over you, his strong hands forcing your muscles to uncurl until you were sitting up, his hand wrapped around your neck, holding your chin up so you could look at August.

“You like her,” he whispered, lips brushing against your temple and you could see August’s jaw clenching. “You like her naivety and purity. You crave her innocence. We’re not too different, Agent Walker.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” August asked through clenched teeth and Donaka stood and moved away from you. You didn’t turn to look, but you heard the scrape of metal against concrete and knew he must have taken a seat again.

“What I always want. I want to watch.”

There was a long pause and this time, you dared to look over your shoulder and there was Donaka on the metal chair, legs spread apart, and you could see the volume in his trousers. It made you swallow and blush, looking back at August.

“You’re going to ruin her and I’m going to watch.”

The silence was heavy in the room. Enough that you could hear the drumming of your heart and August’s deep exhale he contemplated your captor. For a moment, you wondered what Donaka meant by ruin but all it took was a quick look at yourself and you knew.

The worst thing was that you wanted it. A little dark seed had settled itself deep in your heart and mind the first time you saw August. The first time you contemplated those solid muscles and the menace that he exhaled.

You were always attracted to violence, that much you knew – but August was something else. Something primal and dark and every time you let your thoughts turn to that, you felt your body igniting with that forbidden desire that you usually kept completely hidden.

Against your better judgment, you let your gaze settle on August and you saw the darkness in his eyes but also the blaze of want as he contemplated you, taking in for the first time your flimsy attire and you could see it affected him, just like Donaka expected.

“It’s ok,” you whispered getting up. Your limbs still felt unsteady as you moved closer to him, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the slow and controlled beat of his heart as you gazed up at August through your lashes. “I want this.”

Those words seemed to snap the last shred of control in him because he caught you by the nape and smashed his lips against yours. The kiss was brutal, all tongue and teeth, and your knees nearly gave out from the heaviness of your desire, the coiling tendrils of your pleasure making your core throb and your panties soaked.

His other hand found its way to your thigh and ass beneath the nightgown, kneading and massaging the supple flesh, pulling you tighter against his chest and you could feel his rock hard erection against your belly, making the heat inside you increase.

You had caught glimpses of August in his underwear back at the hotel. You knew he was massive and you wanted him. You wanted him inside your mouth and inside your cunt, spearing you open in the most savage of ways.

The last rational part of you might have taken notice that you were not alone, that Donaka was still lurking behind you but that thought just made the want in your gut increase. You wanted him to see August taking you. The animalistic part of you even wanted him to take you too.

“August…” you whimpered softly and was surprised by a slap across your face. Why that made desire throb inside you even more you didn’t know, but your whimper turned into a wanton moan.

“Sir or master, girl!” August hissed and you nodded obediently, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Know who owns you.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“That’s better.” He gripped your jaw, his hold like iron as he looked at you with a glare. “You look like such a good girl on the outside but you’re nothing but a dirty little slut. I bet right now you’re dripping, wanting my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you mumbled as best as you could as he kicked your legs apart, cupping your sex and you jolted, excited and ashamed because he could feel the dampness of your panties, his fingers rubbing you roughly against the lace, making your head spin with the overwhelming sensations.

“You think he can smell you from all the way across the room?” August asked, releasing your jaw and spinning around to face Donaka, his lips against your ear, one hand down your panties the other alternating between squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples. “Are you this soaked because you know he’s watching?”

Your answer was a pathetic little whine as you caught Donaka’s dark stare, his large palm cupping his erection through his trousers. August forced you to walk forward until you were standing right in front of the other man, close enough to touch but Donaka made no motion to reach for you, just inhaled sharply.  

“She smells sweet,” he said, his voice lower, sultry, and sending shivers down your spine. “Like ripe cherries.”

August hummed in reply, one finger dipping into your panties and running up your folds as if he was gathering the nectar of a honeycomb and you gasped at the overwhelming tingling of your swollen clit. He brought his glistening finger to his mouth, sucking it in like it was the most delectable delicacy he ever tasted and you had to press your legs together against the quivering of your cunt, clamoring to be taken.  

  “You taste so good, pet,” August huskily whispered against your ear.

His hand returning to your core while the other exposed your breasts, the sound of the ripping lace loud in the quietness of the room, punctuated by your breathy moans, August low grunts as you rubbed your ass against the volume in his pants and Donaka’s soft hums of appreciation.

In seconds August had you listening to nothing but the sound of blood rushing through your ears as his fingers worked faster and faster against your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure starting at your center. They spread through your entire body and it only got even more intense when he pushed two fingers inside you, crooked like a hook and rubbing that perfect spot over and over as he fucked you, making you whimper and shake as if your insides were being completely consumed by pleasure.

“Sir, I’m gonna…” you hiccupped, tears in your eyes, and that only made August chuckle and redouble his effort, his thrusts so hard now you felt his knuckles hitting your pelvic bone uncomfortably but you couldn’t care less.

Your entire body tensed and arched as the coiling knot snapped and your cries reverberated through the bare walls of the bunker as your cunt fluttered and you gushed warm, clear liquid all over August’s hand. He laughed against your bright red cheeks.

“Bad girl…” he tsked, pulling his soaked hand away from your cunt and panties. “You got me all wet.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mumbled, eyes on the ground and nearly jumped when August shoved his wet fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself and it was enough of your core to throb and pulse once again, apparently yearning for more.

You swirled your tongue and sucked his fingers, cleaning every drop of your juices from his skin; picturing something else instead of those thick digits. Picturing the hard edge that was pressed against your ass, hot and pulsing.

“On your knees,” August ordered, pulling his fingers away and you didn’t have to be told twice, hands eagerly going to his waistband and you noticed that his belt was gone. Pity, it would have been nice if he could tie you up with it. Or even spank your ass with it, leaving bright red welts on the soft skin of your ass.

You made quick work of his buttons, pulling the pants down along with his underwear, releasing his long and thick, glorious cock. Just the sight of it had your mouth watering. You desperately wanted it; to feel it filling you and coating your tongue with his cum. Stroking the back of your throat, making you choke and cry.

Before you could reach for it, August took a hold of your braid, holding your head still and away from him. He smirked at your hitching whines as you looked up at him with a pout while he kicked his pants to the side and started to undo the buttons of his shirt, letting go of you only long enough to shrug off the fabric.

Now he stood before you completely naked. A work of art by God or something more devious because his thick thighs and solid torso, along with the sculptured chest and chiseled features could only speak of temptation of the darkest kind.

“Sir, please,” you begged, crawling forward, your knees wet from your previous release, your cunt still dripping. “Let me taste you.”

“Dirty little cock slut,” August whispered, hand twisting around your braid until it was wrapped around his palm tight enough to make your scalp burn, while he stroked himself until his tip was glittering with his precum.

“Please.”

He took a step forward, so close you could smell his sex, musky and heady and it only made you want him more. You licked your lips and watched him through your lashes, waiting for authorization. You were a good little girl, you took what your sir gave you. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Finally, August let the tip of his cock rub against your lips, coating them with his essence and you traced and gathered every drop with your tongue eager for more, until he pushed the head past your lips, invading your mouth with a hard thrust that had you gagging almost immediately.

“Is this what you want, slut?” August growled, fucking you hard and fast, holding your head still as he took what he wanted from you, making you choke and sputter, tears leaking from your eyes, spit running down your chin as he brought you nearly to his pubic hair, holding you there as your throat worked around his head before pulling back and finally allowing you to breath.

You watched him through tearful eyes but August wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was on the man behind you and you wondered what Donaka was doing. Was he touching himself? He did say he wanted to watch August ruin you and here you were, being completely wrecked by the man in question. As he took every inch of pleasure from your mouth, you could feel the gathering waves at your center again, preparing for a new tide.

Another pathetic little whine escaped you when August pulled away from your mouth, allowing you to breathe fully and finally looking down at you as he rubbed your spit over his length, his eyes a dark pool of something that almost made you afraid.

He tugged you to your feet again. His lips were bruising and biting against your swollen mouth, his tongue unrelenting as if he was chasing his own taste. The reprieve to your raw knees was short-lived because August was pushing you down again but this time he followed, maneuvering your body until you were on all fours, spine low, ass up looking at Donaka as August knelt behind you.

You held your breath in expectation watching those haunting eyes, like a bottomless pool of darkness taking you in, the bulge in his pants evident but he didn’t make any motion to take care of it and you would admire his self-control if your mind wasn’t pulled away from that and shifted back to the way August yanked your panties down and rubbed his cock against your folds teasingly, the tiny sparks of pleasure barely enough to soothe the burning volcano of want deep inside you.

“Sir, please fuck me. I need to feel you inside me.”

The words were out before you even registered them but they were obviously the right thing to say because you felt the first press of his cock against your slit, stretching it almost painfully and you gasped and moaned, wanting to rock back but August kept you still with an iron grip on your hips, painting bruises on your skin as he pushed inch by agonizingly slow inch, filling you up like never before.

You could feel every single vein and ridge of his cock. The pulsing and twitching of his length filled you to the brim and the sensation was impossible to describe. A sort of completion that you had never experienced in your life and that would only be made more perfect when August finally decided to move.

It was like he could read your mind because he started to rock his hips in tiny little thrusts at first, the friction driving you insane with wanting and all you could do was chant more and harder and faster, please now, you need it so bad. August chuckled against your ear, his body covering yours as he ground his hips.

“You want more?” he grunted, licking the sweat dripping down your temple and wrapping the braid around his hand again, pulling your head. “You want me to use that pretty hole so he can watch?”

“Yes, please,” you whimpered almost hypnotized by the intense gaze that locked you in place as August’s thrusts started to gain speed and strength, rocking your body forward with its force and reducing you to a moaning mess. “Oh yes, sir. Just like that, please.”

Any rational part left of your brain was completely turned off by the primal call of desire. Your entire body was alight with pleasure like your nerve-ends were little fireworks just waiting to be kindled. From your mouth spilled the most obscene sounds. Moans and hitching little gasps and cries, as fresh tears blurred your vision.

Could you cry from feeling so good? So perfectly completed and raised to the heavens almost in a trance-like state of rapture? You didn’t know and you honestly didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to you was the growing pleasure in your core, threatening to spill and overtake you completely.

It seemed to swallow you whole, especially when August started to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, his grunts and groans becoming louder and louder as the lewd words poured out of his mouth.

“Such a delicious cunt. Holding me tight. Pulling me deep. Trying to milk me dry. Do you want me to fill you up with my cum, huh?” he asked, his sharp thrusts hitting your cervix and making you cry out. “Paint your pussy with my seed, maybe even put a piece of me in there? Does my pretty little whore want me to put a fucking baby in you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please, sir!” you whined, beyond coherence now, already submerged in the midst of your second world-shattering orgasm. August could be asking you to set the world on fire and you would gladly agree so as long as he kept fucking you.

Just. Like. That.  

“I want everything. Please.”

The hand on your hair let go only enough for August press a hand in the middle of your back, pushing you face down on the concrete, your cheek pressed against the damp floor and your ass raising higher, changing the angles and now he was hitting your sweet spot with every violent ram of his cock. The second wave of pleasure didn’t even have time to subside for the third one to crash around you.

Now you were sobbing, the ecstasy and bliss becoming too much to your oversensitive sex, especially as August kept rubbing your clit, pressing harder and harder, making a new flow of liquid to gush and soak down your legs.

It was deliriously good, but also almost like torture, your walls clenching and quivering. If trying to hold his cock in or push it out you didn’t know, but it didn’t deter August from his salvage thrusts that were slowly losing their rhythm, but going deeper and harder, pushing you forward and scraping your cheek as much as your knees.

You were crying now, pain mixing with pleasure, your thighs quaking, tired of keeping you up. Your lower back hurt from the awkward angle, your knees cut to ribbons by the rough ground. Your cunt ached from the constant slam of his pelvic bone against your swollen flesh and all you wanted was to let go and sleep.

August’s tug on your braid made you scream and you forced your torso up to preserve your neck. You were looking at Donaka once again as August gave his final thrust, burying himself to the hilt and letting out a loud growl as he spilled inside you and you nearly sobbed because it was finally over and you could finally rest.

When you August finally pulled out of you, your limbs gave out completely and you fell in an awkward heap on the ground, too exhausted and sore to move a muscle. Your mind felt untethered and floating, unable to register the words being exchanged by the two men.

All you wanted was to curl into a ball and forget everything and it was so easy to let the darkness snaking in the corners of your mind claim you. It whispered seductively at you, like the warm hug of a caring lover, the perfect contrast to the violent fucking you just endured.

Before you slipped away completely, you felt two strong arms surrounding you, picking you up from the cold, hard ground. Even your lashes felt like lead otherwise you would dare to force them open to see who was carrying you away.

“You did very well, pet,” a voice whispered, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. “You might just survive this.”

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hot Blood [2]

Warnings: non-consent sex; oral, intercourse

This is dark! (mob) skinny Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Synopsis: Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there.

Note: Here’s the second half. I’m TRYING to slow down a bit because I’ve become a bit manic and scrambled and all over the place so hope you guys don’t mind maybe revisiting some of my stuff while I try to clear my mind.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

There was a flurry of activity at the tall brick building you pulled up to in Brooklyn. Bucky drove around the back and killed the engine. Steve sent you a look before he climbed out. You grabbed your small bag and got out as Bucky closed the driver’s door. 

Steve led you to the back door of the building as Bucky trailed you and pulled out a cigarette. As you entered, the distant banging of hammers and buzz of voices rose from above. You were surprised by the interior as it did not reflect its facade; the aged brick hid the newly laid layer of decadence.

“Mind the noise,” Steve said as he strode across the lobby. “First two floors are finished but they got a dozen more to do.”

You glanced around at the stone statues and gilted frames. A little Versailles in the heart of New York. No doubt prompted by overcompensation and egoism.

“A borough is an empire on its own, I suppose,” You mused as you neared a bust of a naked woman.

“No, but New York is,” He neared and ran his finger along the curve of the stone woman’s hip. “It will be.”

“Big plans…” You stopped yourself from finishing; for a small man.

“Too many plans,” He drew away and looked at his watch. 

“Buck,” He called to his henchman who flicked off his cigarette. “Would you use the goddamn tray?”

“Sorry,” Bucky snickered. “Habit.”

“Mmm,” Steve grumbled. “Take her up to a room. Lock it, will ya?”

You glared at him and gripped your bag tighter. He glanced at you as he felt your anger radiating towards him.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll have the tailor come by and get you all set.” He smiled. “Considering that hole you were living in, I think you’ll like it here.”

“You can tell your tailor to fuck off.” You snapped.

“Ah,” Steve’s hand flew up and he grabbed your chin. “That’s not very ladylike language.”

“Get off of me,” You smacked his arm but he didn’t flinch. 

“There are gonna be rules, got it? First, you’re gonna start acting like a lady and watch your tongue. Then you’re gonna get rid of these,” He let go and pulled on your lapel, “And mind your place, woman.”

You bit down as you brought your hand up. He reeled at the slap which echoed through the lobby and Bucky’s figure loomed in your peripheral. Steve raised his hand to halt his henchman and touched his cheek. He took a breath.

“That’s the only one you get,” He said slowly. “Understand? Cause I’ve been more than patient with you. You still got your piece.”

“Empty,” You intoned.

“Still,” His eyes flashed. “And your head.” He pointed at you. “And a very clear choice here, doll. This can be easy or difficult. Now it seems you prefer the latter but I don’t think we ‘share that sentiment.”

“No, we don’t,” You said.

“Bucky,” He gestured to his man. “Get her out of my sight.”

Bucky grabbed your arm and drew you away as Steve walked across the marble floor. Your shoes slid over the stone and you were forced up the stairs by the bulky henchman. He dragged you to a pair of double doors and wrenched the right one open. He shoved you inside. 

The door slammed and you heard the lock slide into place. You cursed and kicked it before you spun to look around the room. It was as big as, if not bigger, than your apartment. 

The walls were decorated in a pale blue paper that bore regal curlicues and the polished floor shone even without the light of the glass lamps. The furniture was carefully arranged and no doubt expensive. You dropped your bag on the side table by the door and inched further in. You removed your hat and played with the brim. You needed to learn to shut your mouth.

🌆

It was about an hour before the lock sounded. The door opened inward and you rose from the chair with the French legs. A man with round glasses struggled to drag in a rolling rack of garments. When he was inside at last, the door closed and the lock slid back into place. 

He glanced around as he adjusted his spectacles and seemed taken aback by you. He sniffed as he came closer.

“Oh dear,” He said. “Hmm. Uh, hello, Miss, I was sent for a fitting. I’m Stuart.”

You crossed your arms and scowled. He shook his head and turned back. He grabbed a pale green dress from his collection and faced you again.

“This might fit,” He said. “Miss.”

He nodded to the screen on the other side of the broad bed. You looked between him and the painted divider. You didn’t move.

“Mr. Rogers told me you required a wardrobe,” He said aghast, “And I must agree with him.”

“And if I refuse it?” You challenged.

“You’ll have no protest from me, I have been duly paid to come here and offer my services. However, I know my client well and I am certain you can predict his reaction yourself.” He explained. “Whether or not you go along with this, is not my job.”

You huffed and reached to your belt. The man blanched as you removed your holster, gun still secure, and set it on the side table.

“It’s empty,” You assured him. “If it wasn’t, I’d not be here.”

You took the dress from him and disappeared behind the screen. You swore under your breath as you hooked the hanger over the top of the barrier. You removed your jacket and unclasped your suspenders. You slipped your shoes off and balled your socks inside them. You unbuttoned your shirt and tossed it a top your jacket on the small stool about a foot away. You added your trousers to the pile and stood in your underwear.

You grabbed the dress and pulled it over your head. The a-line skirt fell just to your knee and the delicate embroidery along the panels of the bodice stretched from chest to waist. You hadn’t worn a dress in years and it was just as awkward as you recalled. You stepped out from behind the screen and braced your hips in disapproval.

“Fits quite well,” Stuart mused and neared his rack again. “That means… the red, yes, oh, silver, the lace skirt…” He began to take hangers down and toss each piece on the chaise not far away. “Enough to see you through until I can make adjustments.”

You frowned and shook your head as you watched him. He passed you and you watched him gather up your former clothing. You blocked him before he could return to his rack.

“What are you doing with those?” You asked and reached to your waist instinctively.

“Mr. Rogers bid me take them with me.” He said plainly. “My assistant will be by later with undergarments… I just need your measurements before I go.”

You sneered at him as he dumped your clothing on the side table and stirred around in his pockets.

“I can assure you, miss, given your temperament, this is as unenjoyable for you as me.” He neared with his tape measure and you dropped your arms.

“Doubtful.” You grumbled.

🌆

There was an oval mirror in the corner behind the screen. You spent a while looking at yourself in the ridiculous dress before you distracted yourself with hanging the rest in the long closet. Stuart’s assistant, Olly, was shown in an hour after the tailor had left and gave you a collection of negligee and silk underwear. You hid them in the drawers and tried to forget about them.

Steve, for all your spite, was a man who acted quickly and effectively. And, you guessed, impulsively. You doubted you were the first woman to laugh at him but you didn’t wonder much on his wrath. It was his ilk; yours too. The underworld was run on tempers and wounded pride.

You sat in an armchair as you fiddled with the gun, flipping the chamber in and out, listening to the roll. You heard the door handle and stopped. You spun the gun in your hand and pointed the empty barrel at the man who entered. Steve’s brows drew together as he saw you. His lips twitched and he removed his hat. He left it on the side table beside your bag.

“You waiting on me?” He asked coyly.

“If I had a bullet, perhaps I would be more excited for your arrival,” You set the gun on the small round table beside you.

“Go on,” He stood across from you. “Stand up. Let me get a look.”

You stared at him. You didn’t move. His gaze travelled to your legs and he tapped his toe.

“Hurry up, would ya? We’ve got places to be.” He sneered.

“Places to be? Oh?” You still didn’t rise.

“Look, doll,” He lowered his voice as he stepped a bit closer. “I know you think I’m just a skinny little shit but let me tell you, I’m a whole lot more. You stand up so I can get a peek at you or I’ll get you up myself and do more than look.”

Your nostrils flared and you grabbed the gun. You swung it at him and he dodged it. He caught your hand as you stood and tried again. He twisted your wrist and you gritted your teeth as he forced you to release it. He caught it with his other hand and shoved you back. 

“You just can’t help yourself,” He growled as he tucked your gun into his trousers. “You’re lucky I have more self-control than you.”

You crossed you arm as he looked you up and down.

“Nice get-up but not for tonight,” He went to the closet and slid it open. “Even so, you’ve been busy.”

You were silent as he pulled out a pale blue dress that shimmered in the light.  Thin straps, low cut, skirt flowing to the floor. You cringed as he turned back to you.

“I am not stupid, doll,” He neared and held out the hanger. “You think I’m a joke. You’re one of the most stubborn gals I’ve ever known. I like that.” He waved the dress until you took it. “But I don’t work alone. You wanna step on my toes, I have no issue calling in back-up.”

You glared at him; silent.

“I’ve seen Bucky do terrible things to men; his own size, bigger. I heard of worse from his years in the war. It changed him and when I tell him to do something, he doesn’t think, he does. He doesn’t see a man or woman, trousers or skirt, he sees a job.” Steve warned. “He’s all smiles til I say ‘sic ‘em’.”

“You must watch a lot of pictures, Mr. Cagney,” You sniped.

“Listen, when it comes down to it, you’ll prefer me to him,” He said. “Me to any man in this city. I could let you go,” He pointed at you. “Could, but I’d have to put a price on that pretty little head.”

You frowned and folded the dress over your arm.

“Where are we going?” You asked quietly.

“A party,” He smiled. “To celebrate my recent victory.”

🌆

You hated the gown and the shoes. The way the woman had done your hair. Steve had left you to change and been quickly replaced by an older woman with fake blonde curls. Once a Jean Harlow fan or merely grasping at her fading youth?

She set your hair and grabbed your chin as she powdered your face and lined your eyes. She was pushy and said her name was Muriel. She talked a lot. You could barely keep track of her gossip. She painted your lips a deep shade of red and looked you over. When she finished, she left you as swiftly as she’d come. You ignored the mirror and the stranger in it.

When the door opened once more, you were at the window. You stared down at the sidewalk, pondering the way down. It would be a painful and slow death. So you had to wear heels; was it worth that?

“Doll,” Steve’ voice made you tense and you turned to face him. “You look… wonderful. Like a real woman.” He neared and his eyes lingered on vee of the dress. “Forgive me, you are a real woman.”

You crossed your arms but quickly dropped them as it only served to push your chest higher. Steve held a velvet box. He placed it on the table between the arm chairs and snapped it open. He lifted the silver chain from it and held it up to sparkle. Small diamonds decorated the slender necklace; the centerpiece a large sapphire.

“I’ve never seen a woman look at a jewel with such disdain.” He mused as he neared.

“Only at you, right?” You japed. He almost smiled.

“Sure, doll,” He seemed calmer as he gestured for you to turn.

You let out a breath and did. He carefully looped the necklace around your neck and clasped it. You spun back to him and wobbled in the heels. You kept yourself from tripping and he smiled as he reached to touch the sapphire.

“Gorgeous,” He said. “If not lacking grace.”

You drew away from him and his hand brushed your arm. He grabbed your hand and stopped you. He came up beside you and hooked your arm through his. 

“You behave…” He purred. “And I just might take it easy on you.”

🌆

You recognized many men at the party. It didn’t make it any easier. Once, you had faced them with a gun on your hip. With a sense of dignity. You lowered your head as Steve swept you along and he stopped to push your head up with two fingers.

“Be proud. You’re mine.” He whispered as he turned back to his path. “One day, this whole city will be mine. I might just take you with me.”

You didn’t like that. He spoke of you like a possession. But you shut your mouth and focused on not tripping. As you gained your balance, you struggled to stop as Steve pulled on your arm. The man across from you, Harry Carligne, squinted at you as he greeted your escort. As he tried to take you hand, you just stared.

“I know you,” He pulled back and realisation smoothed the wrinkles in his forehead. “Holy…”

“Where’s Carol?” Steve interjected. 

“She found out about Lucille,” Harry laughed. “Who you will find flitting around somewhere.” He glanced at you again. “My, my, how did you tame this creature, Rogers?”

“He didn’t,” You said tersely. “Keep your paws off me.”

“Oh ho,” Harry grinned. “You’re definitely braver than me, Rogers.”

“I told you, I like a challenge,” Harry’s smile fell as he caught the edge in Steve’s voice. “Plus, I’ve heard that women with sharp tongues are the best fucks.”

Your eyes rounded and you gaped at Steve in disgust. You tried to pull away from him and he snaked his arm around you and pulled you closer.

“Besides, I’m sure the mouth is good for more than just talk.” Steve chuckled. Harry joined in loudly and you snarled at both of them.

“I’m thirsty,” You insisted as you tried to wriggle away.

Steve’s arm stayed firm and he waved with his other hand. A server appeared with a tray and Steve took a champagne glass from the lot. He handed it to you. 

“Drink up, doll,” He said and returned his attention to the other man. “Now, Harry, we got some clean up to do in Queens…”

🌆

The night was long. You didn’t miss the whispers of the men or the women attached to them. It also didn’t escape you that you looked like one of those women now. Some were wives, some were mistresses, and some were paid by the hour. You weren’t quite sure where you fell yet.

And Bucky hovered ever in your peripheral. He was Steve’s watchdog. Those Steve talked to were also aware of the other man. They were nervous. He had a reputation you had yet to see proven. You could live without the evidence.

You were relieved to be away from the party guests but less than to be once more beside Steve in the back of the ivory roadster. He was close, his fingers tapped on his knee as he was quiet. Bucky drove, yawning here and there. You were tired yourself but antsy due to the man next to you.

You flinched as Steve’s hand fluttered over onto your leg. He felt the fabric of your dress and leaned closer.

“A few slips,” He said. “But you did well, doll.”

“I thoroughly despised it,” You grumbled.

“But you looked good,” He cooed. “I like this dress… makes me think about what’s underneath.”

“You’re a dog.” You snapped.

He chuckled and his hand slid further and crawled along the crease where your thighs met. You pressed your legs together but he didn’t push. He merely traced a line around your hip and his fingers danced along your arm. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you to him. He kissed you and you slapped his chest. He winced but didn’t stop.

You shoved him but it only seemed to drive his fervour. He squeezed the back of your neck as he poked his tongue past your lips. The car came to a stop and he finally drew away. He glanced out the window but as he turned back to you, you slapped him.

“Animal.” You hissed.

He touched his cheek and his blue eyes glinted in the dim. He let out a heavy breath and tore his hand away.

“Get her,” He barked at Bucky. “Drag her, if need be.”

Steve got out of the car as the other door opened and you found yourself being ripped out by the henchman. As you found your footing, Steve came to face you. 

“We’re gonna go back to the room, doll,” He said curtly. “And this can stay between the two of us or I can have my man hold you down. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the show.”

You glanced over at Bucky. His expression was dull and his grip firm. He shrugged. He tugged you forward as Steve spun and led the way to the tall building. Inside, it didn’t seem so extravagant anymore and your steps echoed on the stairs. The hand on your arm was like a shackle.

The same door, the same room, you were ushered inside and Bucky let go hesitantly. The two men watched you, waiting. You didn’t move and Steve nodded to his henchman.

“Stay close,” Steve said quietly. 

Bucky nodded and showed himself out. Steve faced you and brought his hands up to grasp your arms.

“I don’t wanna call him back,” He said. “Do you?”

You shook your head as a chill crept up your spine. You hadn’t felt this way in a very long time. You were afraid. You told yourself it wasn’t the thin man before you, it was the one outside, but deep down, you knew it was both.

“Alright, take the dress off.” He said. “Just the dress.”

You unhooked the back and slid the straps down your arms. Steve walked circles around you. You looked to him as you braced yourself. He loosened his tie as you let the gown fall to your waist. You shimmied out and exposed the creamy lace-trimmed panties and bra beneath.

“Sit. On the bed.” He ordered.

You stepped out of the dress and slowly crossed to the bed. You turned and sat on the end. He neared as he pulled his tie from around his neck. He put it over your eyes and you grabbed his wrist. He shook you off and secured it around your head so you were blind.

“Don’t even think about taking it off,” He warned. You dropped your hand and he stroked your cheek as he backed away.

You listened and shivered in your scant clothing. The underwear, the garters, the sheer stockings, and the strappy heels. You sensed him before you again. He ran his hands over your shoulders and down your arms. He brushed them back up your sides and groped you through your bra.

“Take this off,” His hand dropped and he pulled at the lacy trim at your hip. “And these.”

You stood in the pitch black of the blindfold and carefully undid your bra. You paused and you felt a tug on the front. You swept it away and hooked your thumbs in the top of the panties. He hummed and you rolled them down until they fell to your ankles. You untangled your feet and felt him step closer.

“Turn around. Get on the bed.” He commanded. “On your knees.”

You turned slowly. You stopped yourself from touching the bed.

“No.” You said. “No.”

“If I have to call him in, I won’t stop him from joining.” He rasped.

You bent and felt around. You managed to find your way up, lifting your knees carefully onto the mattress. He slapped your ass and you flinched.

“Further.” You crawled towards the middle. “Just like that.”

You waited there for a time, still on your knees. You felt the bed shift. His hand was suddenly on yours and he pulled it towards him. He pressed your fingers to hot flesh and wrapped your hand around his cock. You were surprised by his girth and as he slid your hand up than down, his length was no less impressive. He squeezed your hand tight.

“Not laughing now, huh?” He taunted.

You stopped and he nudged your hand. You just sat there with your hand around him, unwilling to move. Unwilling to accept this.

“Fine,” He slapped your hand away. “I’ll just use your mouth.”

He moved quickly and grabbed the back of your head. He yanked you forward and you fell onto your hands. He pushed down until you were on your elbows and the head of his cock prodded your lips. He rubbed it back and forth.

“Doll, I won’t tell you one more time.” He snarled. “Bucky’s right outside that door. I’ve seen him break men’s jaws as if it was nothing. What do you think he’d do if I told him to open your mouth for you?”

You gulped and shuddered. Your parted your lips reluctantly and he pushed inside. He grasped the back of your head and held you there as he hit the back of your throat. He urged himself deeper and you slapped his naked thigh. His fingers tangled in the tails of the tie.

You couldn’t help the noise which slipped from you as he pushed himself deeper. You held back a gag and squeezed his slender leg. You shook as he stilled you a lingered in your throat. He wiggled his hips cloyingly.

“Never would’ve known you had such a nice ass in those suits,” He slid back and slammed back in. You choked on him and he repeated the motion. “But that dress… perfect complement.”

You kicked your feet as he thrust steadily. He didn’t seem to notice the constriction of your throat around him as you struggled to hold back the wave of nausea. Or the way you struggled to breath around him. There was only his airy moans and sickly sound of his cock as it glided in and out of your mouth.

He finally pulled out and you struggled not to keel over. You wiped the spit from your lips and he grabbed your hand. He placed it on the mattress and held it there.

“Don’t move,” He said.

You were awe-struck by his pushiness. By the authority that radiated from him. He climbed off the bed and you reached to the tie as the sweat gathered along its edges. You were surprised by a pinch.

“I said don’t move,” He came around behind you and smacked your ass. “You keep those hands on the bed.”

You slapped your hand back down as he climbed up and his legs pushed between yours. Your stockings rubbed against his skin and he ran his hands up and down your back and around your hips then along your thighs. He tickled you and you felt his cock as it poked at you.

“You think you were funny yesterday?” He kneaded your ass as he leaned against you, his smooth length pressed against your cunt. “You really know how to use that pretty little mouth.”

You were, for once, speechless. It was one thing to deal with a man on his level, but to be bent over before him, was another. 

“Where’s that voice now, doll?” He drew back and dragged his tip along your folds. “I wanna hear you.”

He pushed along your entrance, the head of his cock dipped in just a little before he pulled out. He rubbed himself along your cunt again and repeated the act several times. When he shoved himself further in, you squeaked and clapped your hand over your mouth. Another pinched on the tender flesh of your thigh.

“You moved,” He growled and impaled you entirely. Your walls were snug around him. “I know listening isn’t your strong suit but we’ll work on that.”

He eased out of you and paused. You let out a breath and he slammed back in. You flinched and grunted through your teeth. Your fingers curled in the thick duvet and he did it again. He thrust into you, each crash of his hips jolted you. 

His hands brushed over your back and he grabbed your shoulders so that you arched. He rutted into you without restraint. He panted as you quivered against him. You moaned suddenly and clamped your lips shut. He chuckled and sped up.

“Is that it, doll?” He taunted. “Is that the spot?”

He bent over you and snaked his arm around your front. He pressed his fingers to your clit and dragged his lips along your shoulder. He bit down as he started to draw circles around your bud. You gulped as the ripples spread through you. You whined and finally let loose a sharp cry.

“You’re close, I can’t feel it,” He said and slammed into even harder. “And I know you can feel me.”

You’d lost control. You couldn’t let up and he wouldn’t. You moaned louder and louder, almost snarling for more as your flesh clapped loudly. The bed rocked beneath you and you dropped your head forward as you came. Your walls pulsed around him and you pushed back so you could take him deeper.

His hand never stopped, even as your arms shook and threatened to collapse in your rapture. You were stunned by your second orgasm and the third. Your arms folded and you were on your face as he grasped your hips and guided them firmly against him. 

He sank as far as he could and swore. He pulled out quickly and you felt his harried strokes as he pressed his tip to your ass. His hot cum spilled over you and dripped down your thigh. He slowed and sighed as he grazed your throbbing pussy with his fingers.

He backed up off the bed but you didn’t move. You couldn’t. You listened to his soft footsteps and felt leather against your ass. He caressed you with the belt and pulled back.

“You moved again, doll,” He rasped as he brought the belt back down and you exclaimed. “You don’t like the easy way, do you?”

[booklover41802]

Could you do a Jurdan fanfic sequel where Cardan eventually wins back Jude’s love? The sequel to your Cardan finding Jude on a date and gets jealous fanfic?

Of course!! This was one of my favorite prompts to write. I absolutely love Jurdan with all my heart.

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Cardan

Day 1

With Jude’s return, Cardan had issued a revel be thrown in honor of their Queen. The folk had no objections, as they never passed up an opportunity to drink and party.

However, though his Jude had returned with him to Faerie, he had left bloodshed and heartbreak in his wake in his quest to bring her home. The consequences of his actions had not been worth what he had done to his love, who was his no longer. 

Cardan studied Jude on the throne next to his, noting the blank stare, and rigidity in her limbs. One would almost think she was a statue if she didn’t blink from time to time. Cardan was worried this state of being was permanent. There was no fire, no wicked triumph flickering through her stance. A blank nothingness now sat where his lively Jude had once resided. “Jude, darling, would you like to dance?” He’d asked her many things before, and she hadn’t responded, but perhaps this time…

He leaned forward and rested his fingers under his chin in mild contemplation. Jude’s chest slowly inhaled and exhaled, her stare fixed straight ahead on the revel that celebrated without the two of them. The briefest dance of pain shot across her brown eyes before that too vanished and was replaced by a vacant expression that she so often donned.

Cardan should give her space, after all, she did lose her mortal love due to his own pride. If only he had just listened to her and explained himself. Even given her an egregious declaration of love, perhaps things would be different. 

Then, just as he was about to resume his grumpy posture on the throne, she mechanically turned her head and whispered, “Not with you. Not again.” For a moment her hand came up and fingered the pearl necklace around her throat before once again facing the revel, as though she hadn’t just knocked the wind out of him.

Cardan didn’t quite know what to do. He was a terrible husband.

The revel shouted and danced and drank while he sunk further into his sorrows with each passing minute. Jude hated him, and he did not know how to live with that realization. A straggler stumbling past offered him a cup of wine, and he heartily gulped it down, hoping to drown out his thoughts.

Day 2

With a light knock, Cardan announced his arrival at Jude’s doors. She had been reinstated into her old chambers when she’d been seneschal, keeping the door locked at all times. The human heart was a fickle thing, yet he was sure it could be persuaded with an astounding declaration. Or was he the fool for not understanding the emotions of his love? 

As if to spare him from his conflicting thoughts, the door slowly creaked open, revealing Jude within. Dark circles coated the underside of her red eyes, indicating she hadn’t slept one bit. Despite her appearance, however, she was dressed in a high neck onyx dress. Lace appliques adorned the bodice and the sleeves of the gown. The only thing she needed now was a veil, and she’d be complete for a funeral. “What do you want?” Her voice was low, cold. 

He was not wanted here, that much he knew. He brought his hand up to his mouth and cleared his throat. “I wanted to invite you on a stroll about the castle. Doing so day after day by myself is quite lonesome, wouldn’t you agree?”

The response he received was a spark of fire lighting her features, her gaze burning through him. It was almost like a warning that if he stepped any closer to the flames, he’d get burned by the heat. “It’s almost as lonesome as spending your entire life alone, wouldn’t you agree? Without a lover, life seems a bit empty, yes?”

He wasn’t stupid enough to suggest that they were lovers, and she needn’t look any farther for such things. It was his fault she was in this state of mind. “Of course. Perhaps we could share a meal later together if you are not up for a walk.”

“Perhaps.” The door proceeded to shut in his face, no definite answer given to him. Cardan sank down to the floor and rested his head against the wooden paneling. He was pathetic. He could run Faerie just fine, but when it came to Jude, he was lost. Maybe it would just be better for him to sit and wait outside her room until they were to eat. 

Just for a few minutes, he would wait. But he was awfully tired after getting no sleep last night. He would shut his eyes for a moment and then get back to work. A few minutes.... that’s all.

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

He was startled awake when he seemed to fall backward for no apparent reason. The reason became clear as he lay on the floor of Jude’s room, the door clearly having been opened by her. Her mouth was open in an o shape, the most emotion he’d seen from her in days. He grinned ridiculously at her, causing the blank mask to once again fall into place. “You look beautiful,” he said, admiring the way the sun hit her eyes. They were a caramel glow against her smooth skin. 

“So I’ve been told.”

Quickly he slid into a standing position, casually leaning against the doorframe, acting as though he hadn’t fallen asleep outside her door. He had no idea how long he’d been out, and he felt too embarrassed to ask. “My dearest, Jude, I beseech you to accompany me to the dining hall.” For good measure, he sinuously bowed, smirking at her beneath lowered brows.

She released her grip on the door and backed away a few steps. “It’s only two in the afternoon.” 

“Ah...so it is.” This meant he had been sleeping for… four hours. Were his cheeks burning? He could feel a blush creeping up his face at the realization he’d fallen asleep outside his wife’s door for hours. What his advisors must think of the king who can’t stay away from his love. 

“Were you waiting outside my door this entire time?”

His eyes darted around the room, not wanting to meet her fierce gaze. “No. I-I got a lot of work done today. I didn’t fall asleep outside your door, no.”

Her forehead creased as she looked at him in confusion. “I didn’t say you fell asleep… did you?”

He checked his wrist, exclaiming, “Oh, look at the time, I have important things to do you know! The High King has time for no one.” She still looked so utterly bewildered that he blurted out, “Except you, of course, I’ll always make time for you. Good night!” And with that, he bolted out the door, leaving a trail of embarrassment behind him. “Idiot,” he murmured under his breath.

He walked very fast to his room after that, to avoid another awkward encounter. He didn’t trust himself to spout coherent thoughts at the moment.

Day 7

One week since Jude had returned with him to Faerie, and she still wore nothing other than black and gray, the colors of mourning. Was she mourning for the life she could have had, or for the boy who offered her his heart? Cardan could never give her safety and security like the boy could. There was nothing similar between the two of them, and Cardan was quite jealous over that.

He cut into his food a bit more savagely. “Are you planning to scowl like that all evening, your majesty?” At the sound of Nicasia’s voice cutting through the hall, he whipped his head into the air. Why was she here? She was interrupting a wonderful meal between him and Jude, even though they were seated on opposite ends of the table, and Jude hadn’t responded to him once. 

Nicasia’s strut through the wide, double doors radiated confidence, which is why Cardan was surprised when she practically fell on him. Her slim fingers roved against the fabric on his shoulders, inching her way up towards his face. “What are you doing here, Nicasia,” Cardan bit out, annoyed at her presence. 

She pouted, her eyes glittering with disappointment. “Is that any way to greet an old friend, Cardan?” Cardan took a page out of Jude’s book and stared at her blankly. Nicasia rolled her eyes and elegantly dropped into the chair on his right-hand side. As if she was invited. As if she was wanted here. “I was tasked by the Undersea to bring the peace treaty.” 

“Peace treaty?” He raised a brow, his gaze darting to Jude. The way she was looking at Nicasia, one would think she was trying to singe her where she sat. Was Jude… jealous?

Nicasia jabbered on and on, but Cardan was exhilarated by this thought. He couldn’t even focus on the conversation. He cut Nicasia off with a hand and rose to his feet. The legs of the chair scraped back menacingly in the silence that now echoed in the room. “Send the paperwork up to my chambers, I’ll sign what is necessary.” He ignored her sputters and threats, focusing on Jude.

Her face betrayed nothing, but Cardan was sure he didn’t mistake the look she had given Nicasia. He strode by her chair, letting his tail wrap around her arm that was under the table. She inhaled imperceptibly. 

Cardan smirked as he exited the room. 

Day 30

Though Cardan had signed a peace treaty with the Undersea kingdom, they still felt the need to declare an all-out war between land and sea if Jude wasn’t handed over to them. It seems as though Nicasia had whispered a few twisted statements to her mother. Both of the women believed they were entitled to Cardan’s right to rule. Humans can’t be the High Queen, Nicasia had sneered.

Cardan had brushed her off, but maybe he shouldn’t have. Things had been going so well with Jude, that he had ignored Nicasia’s attempts at flirting. All he seemed to make were mistakes these days.

He sighed as yet another hurricane swirled and churned just on the borders between their kingdoms. For days the Undersea had been taunting them all with thinly veiled threats. If by the end of the week, Jude still resided within the castle, their land would be destroyed. Queen Orlagh did not take well to a human queen on the throne. 

Muttering under his breath, he shoved himself out of his chair and stalked out of his room to do something incredibly stupid.

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Cardan softly knocked on Jude’s door, waiting for the telltale sound of her feet pattering against the ground. When the door swung open, Cardan was surprised that she wasn’t wearing her mourning clothes anymore. Instead, she wore a royal blue tunic, and dark pants over soft, leather boots. The pearl necklace still lingered at her throat, though. She looked to him with expectant eyes. “Are you here because of what the Undersea is demanding?”

He fidgeted with his hand. The words were practically jumping off his lips, words he had kept silent for so long. “Yes I-”

“I’ll go. I’ll do what Queen Orlagh wants.” 

Needless to say, Cardan didn’t expect that answer. “Actually, I was going to say that I was about to head to the shore to try and work things out without you there.”

She shook her mane of curly hair, her lips downturned. “I’m the reason Orlagh and Nicasia are threatening to turn Faerie into a landslide. It’s only fair I offer myself up.”

Cardan dared a step into her room, and when she didn’t object, he took another until they were close enough to kiss. But Cardan merely grasped her hands and held them in his own. “My darling, you are the light of my life, and I admire your courage, but you are not to face the Undersea again.” The way Jude had been after coming back from being in their clutches for a month was not something he wanted to relive. “I wanted to tell you something before I left.”

“What is it?”

He took a breath, preparing himself for rejection. “No matter what has happened between us these last few months, I love you more than the moon loves the sun, more than the stars love the sky. You are my one true love, and I never want you to believe otherwise.”

A shocked expression overtook her, her grip going slack. Cardan was sure this was a sign of rejection and quickly fled to the Undersea, where he planned to offer himself in her stead. It was the only way. 

Day 31

After offering himself to Queen Orlagh and being laughed off, he had returned to the castle, dejected, but with a plan. He had requested the queen meet with him again for a different negotiation, and she had begrudgingly agreed. This time, he would bring Jude with him, but he was the High King of Elfhame. The land responded to him and his will. He would either bring down the entire Undersea or die trying.

If he died, it was of no consequence to him as long as his Jude was safe. As long as Jude made it out alive, his quest would be a success. She had slowly opened up to him as the weeks had passed. She now kept her door open for Cardan at all times. 

As the pair of them exited the castle together, hand in hand, Cardan felt an exuberant burst of joy exploding in his heart. “What are you planning to offer the Undersea?” Jude asked, turning towards him, with an adorable scrunch to her forehead.

“What they desire the most.” Bloodshed.

“I know you tried to barter for yourself to be their prisoner instead of me. You know I can handle myself against them, I don’t need you to protect me against the world.”

He tried a grin and immediately felt it slide it off his face. Today wasn’t the day for side smirks and debauchery. “I am fully aware of what you are capable of, Jude. But do you not think for a second that I am protecting my heart? It may be cracked, and in shambles, yet you carry it. I do not want to lose it quite so soon.”

“Cardan-” Jude was cut off as the sandy border of the Undersea came into view. Queen Orlagh and Nicasia hovered just below the surface.

“How sweet, the faerie confessing his love to the mortal.” Nicasia sneered, snickering behind her hands. 

“What have you come to offer us this time, Cardan, High King of Elfhame.” Orlagh ignored her daughter and examined Cardan with suspicion coating her features. It was clear that there was no trust between both parties. 

Cardan released his hand from Jude’s, feeling the vibrations of the land, along with the sea. He took a breath and moved his hand through the air, drawing up his connection. It felt like a small tingling sensation at first, but gradually pinpricks of light punctured the air, drawn to his touch. His gaze landed on Nicasia who had drawn herself up out of the water, legs replacing her tail.

Cardan smirked and released the tension building up in his chest. Immediately Nicasia was pulled against a tree and held in a lover’s embrace by the branches. She shrieked and yelled for Orlagh. “I offer you your daughter unharmed if you do not concede to my rule. I do not wish to be a tyrant, but I will become one if you do not let my chain of succession be. I have chosen Jude, and you will not interfere with my affairs again.” To prove his point, the branches squeezed Nicasia tighter. 

Torn between saving her successor, and winning this fight, Orlagh said, “You are not the green boy everyone says, your majesty. It seems you do have a skill set worth keeping an eye on. But,” she smiled, “Humans have no right to this land. That much I will never admit.”

“And you are not the mighty Queen everyone believes you to be. You are no more than a power-hungry creature who grapples for a position that is slipping out of your grasp.”

Jude took a small step forward. “Human I may be, but you were the arrogant one who did not deign to check if I was able to be glamoured. You are the reason I was banished in the first place. I accept your right to rule, as much as you accept mine.” Jude’s chin jutted out in a show of confidence. There was nothing but pure, unrelenting rage raging in the depths of her eyes. She wanted revenge and she was about to explode. 

Orlagh glanced between the three of them and noticed how Jude’s hand curled into a fist. Noticed how the land began to respond to her movements. Noticed how a boulder was suddenly rocketing its way towards the tree where Nicasia was encased. “I concede! I accept your right to rule. Just give me back my daughter unharmed.”

Cardan and Jude smiled, grinning with their teeth. Nicasia was released, the branches of the tree slithering back to its normal position. The bounder stopped its descent inches from wreaking havoc upon the bark. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Orlagh’s jaw clenched. “Leave my daughter alone, and I will leave your… wife unharmed.”

“I would love nothing more.”

Nicasia stumbled back into the water, throwing reproachful looks our way. 

But it mattered not to me, not as Jude looked at me, truly looked at me, and grinned. Her eyes softly shone, in a way that they hadn’t done in quite some time.

Day 65

Two months after Jude’s return and she no longer was the silent piece of marble she was when she first arrived back in Elfhame. The pair of them had shared the same bed for the first time in a long time. Her scent of citrus and oak trees imprinted itself into the sheets.

Nothing had happened last night, save for the intimacy of being close. Yet somehow they had ended up in each other’s arms sometime during the night. Her warmth seeped into his clothes, creating a bubble of security around the two of them. He ran a slow, steady hand through her thick mane of hair. Her lids remain firmly shut, but he could see her eyes rapidly moving. Carefully so not to disturb her, Cardan traced a light finger across her smooth skin.

He craved touch, and intimacy with her like he had never had with anyone before. He’d had lovers in the past, but with Jude, he wanted everything. He couldn’t contain his selfish desires, wanting her all to himself. He leaned forward and delicately pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

Before he could move away, she cracked open an eye and took him in. He didn’t dare move, not as she looked very intently into his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he breathed.

 For a few moments, Jude didn’t say anything, as she took him in. Her eyes were still sleepy, and her lips upturned in a small smile. Cardan ran a hand across her bare arms, while she shivered, goosebumps rising across her flesh. “If I’m waking up next to you, I don’t mind being woken.” 

Cardan was dumbstruck by how alluring her morning voice was. She was so unlike the sharp queen in moments of wakefulness. She was… gorgeous. Her sleep mussed hair, and… Cardan blushed as he realized she was wearing one of his shirts. He had passed out before her, so he didn’t know she had put it on. “You’re wearing my clothes,” he stammered out. He didn’t know how to react. His inner heart flared up with desire, as he realized what this meant. She was no longer keeping him at a distance. As if they were the most natural movements in the world, he shifted his weight so he was on top of her.

His arms wrapped around her middle, while his head nestled between her shoulder blades and neck. He hardly dared a breath, as Jude said,  “I missed you, Cardan. Even when I hated you, I wanted you.” His breath caught in his throat, he wasn’t prepared for such an open and honest statement. “I’m yours, I always have been. Despite what occurred in the mortal world, my guilty heart still desires you.”

His tail wrapped around her ankle and pulled her closer as if she might disappear at any moment. “I beseech you to forgive me for all the wrongs I have committed in your name.”

“All is well, you were forgiven long ago. I feel immense guilt, but I can’t stay away from you any longer, Cardan. You almost sacrificed yourself me, how can I be angry with you when you would give up everything for me?”

He could feel her heartbeat thundering under her skin. “How could I not wish to give up everything, if it meant that you would be happy? My darling Jude, I desperately missed you. I was lost when you were away. You are the light that guides me through life. When you were angry with me, I did not know what to do. I will never make that mistake again.”

Her hand came up and brushed down the side of his face with reverence. “I did not like being angry with you, either. Let’s agree to never do such foolish things again.”

“Never again.”

In the silence that accompanied their shared bond, Jude sighed in content. “I love you, Cardan.”

Tears pricked Cardan’s eyes as he shifted a few inches. She really truly loved him, the monster that destroyed her life. His voice broke as he whispered, “I love you too, Jude. More than anything I ever have before.”

The High King and Queen of Elfhame stayed clutching one another, bonded by their love for one another, vowing to never part again.

Tags: @illyrian-bookworm, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @webcraft4eveh

[wing-ed-thing]

Cabaret (Might Guy x Reader, Chapter IV)

Oop here it is. Reminder that Cabaret is a rated M fic and this is about where we get more into that rating.

Summary: You can't stand Might Guy. Honestly, how could anyone be so boisterously unaware and sickeningly positive? Your heart sinks as the both of you are teamed up to infiltrate and collect information from the Hidden Sound's gritty underground. Maybe losing yourselves in the dark of the the Sound’s nightlife will help you both come to an understanding.

Word count: 3,268

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIIIChapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI 

Warnings: Foul language, alcohol, implied alcohol abuse, minor sexual assault and harassment (a booty is grabbed without permission)

You reached your temporary residence on the outskirts of the Hidden Sound by nightfall. Weary from your journey, you hardly remembered getting up the stairs of the complex. You stumbled through the door, tossing your bag on the floor before you collapsed on the bed. You placed a pillow over your eyes and sprawled your limbs across the sheets.

A rattle came from across the room.

“Did you even look around the place?” Guy’s voice resounded in your ears. You let out a string of curse words, too exhausted to move from your position on your bed.

“Why?” you lamented, “Why are our rooms fucking connected?” You moaned into your hands. You knew you didn’t have much time before you had to set out again, you just hoped that that time would be spent in peace. Sitting up, the pillow fell into your lap. You took in the small living area where Guy leaned against a very discrete door. If it had not been ajar, you wouldn’t have seen it at all. Only the lock at the very bottom revealed its location.

“You’re supposed to be a young, available bachelorette. It defeats the illusion if I’m seen leaving here all the time.”

“Who says you’ll be here all the time?” you snarkily snapped. Guy quirked an eyebrow. You huffed, moving to pick your bag off the floor. “Yeah, yeah, teamwork, I know…” You began to lay out your belongings on the bed. “Also, for the record, I’ve always been a ‘young, available bachelorette’, I don’t need to pretend to be one.”

“I know.” Your head snapped up from your meticulously folded clothes.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Eyebrows?” You hissed, putting one hand on your hips. Guy moved farther into your temporary apartment. He leaned against your couch, a hand on the back of it.

“Remember that time Genma asked you out as a dare in the academy?”

“You remember that?” you groaned.

“He had a black eye for a month.” Guy chuckled. “I think everyone remembers that.” A smile cracked on your face.

“He deserved it though!” You insisted, waving a makeup brush at him. “I didn’t even know it was a joke, I just thought he was being an idiot.” Guy let out a jolly chuckle.

“Well, you’re not wrong there.” You moved to the bathroom a few feet away from Guy, carefully storing your neatly organized cosmetics. You went back to your bed, gathering more items. Your partner stood, migrating to lean against the doorframe, watching you work. “So tell me, what is all that anyway?”

“These?” You looked up, a few airtight bags in your hands, “Wigs?”

“All of it.” He laughed bashfully. You hummed, tinkering with the cabinets.

“Um, it’s a lot of things really. Wigs, brushes, latex. They’re all kinda for different things so I couldn’t really tell you without going on about it all.” You held the small bottle in your hand. You hesitated. Glancing up to Guy, your eyebrows wove together. “Why are you asking?” You squinted your eyes at him before tending to your items once more.

“Well, I’m curious and I think you do good work.” Those words stopped you once again. You blinked a few times, squatted on the floor. You twirled a hairbrush in your hand as you stood.

“Oh.” You moved past him. Your heart pounded in your chest as you attempted to think of something better to say. The words didn’t come to you. You reached for your now empty pack, kicking it under your bed. You stood in front of the mirror. Giving your faux hair a brush, you glanced at Guy who was still leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. Leaning forward, you looked at him with a muddled expression and reached around the frame to switch off the light.

“Aren’t you going to go get ready?” You signed, returning back to the mirror. A stick of lipstain rolled over the rim of your mouth. You stood up straight, adjusting your shoulders. “Because that would be a better use of your time rather than staring at me doing my makeup like this morning.” Guy seemed to snap out of his thoughts, striking his classic thumbs-up pose.

“Yes, I am!” You rolled your eyes as he bounded to the small door, closing it behind him as he left.

You considered the wardrobe next to your bed. Your outfits hung up neatly and you plucked out a red dress. You slipped it on and zipped it up yourself, feeling the fabric hugging your frame and coming snugly around your neck. Your hands ran down the lace, smoothing it down your thighs. A pair of fine gloves rolled up your hands as you grabbed a small bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You checked your cosmetic touch ups once more in the mirror. Satisfied with your appearance, you exited the small living space.

Guy was waiting for you in the hall. He fiddled with his sleeves, rolling them to the elbow, showing off his well built forearms. He adjusted his leather suspenders over his shoulders. The black button up tucked into simple slacks. The buttons strained, giving way to the muscle that was outlined by the fabric’s thinness. He cleaned up nicely. You turned away, attempting to appear ever aloof. Guy’s face lit up as he opened his mouth to compliment you. You held a hand up and cleared your throat.

“Let’s go.” You offered curtly before Guy got a word in. Guy accompanied you down the stairs and down onto the street. His stare lingering on your figure as he trailed somewhat behind. Guy glanced back up at the back of your head, quickly shaking himself out of his trance. He’s not about to objectify you like that. You would surely murder him if you caught him anyway. He strolled leisurely at your side in contrast to your determined walk as you made your way down the street.

It was almost odd to see that the Hidden Sound Village looked like any other village. From what you heard about it, it was not what you expected, not that you would share this goofy thought with Guy. The buildings were the same as in the Leaf. They had the same wooden structure, the same thatched roofs. The few civilians that milled around the residential area wore similar robes dyed with locally sourced pigments. One main road bisected the neatly laid out districts which made it simple for you and Guy to navigate. The streets were lit with lanterns. As you traveled, the lights multiplied as the city morphed from community storage to bustling downtown businesses.

Dubious characters littered the street but you pressed on. If there was one thing that the Sound lacked, it certainly was not night life. You paid little attention to the whistles you got as you passed. Neon signs and flashy displays form boisterous bars seemed to now exclusively light the streets and one shone brightest. For a moment, you and Guy took in the outside. You took in your new place of work with a deep breath in. The name “HEAVEN” swung out onto the avenue and  radiated in bright neon on the outside of the establishment. On the building, the outline of a woman in a short dress practically lit the whole street. The halo on her head blinked on and off. You straightened your shoulders and entered.

You stepped into a world of plush walls. Your kitten heels clicked against the hardwood before sinking into the velvet carpet that led to the maître d'. Ornate traditional Japanese decoration ordained the larger woman’s European features. She took you in with questioning eyes. To both her sides existed space that opened into the main lounge. You could only see the front bits of it from where you stood. The wall behind her obscured the rest. The lady inspected you over. It must be rare for a woman to pass through here.

“We’re here to speak to Shima-san.” She took you in, closing the large book that rested on the podium. “We’re your new hires.” The woman’s glasses slid to the end of her nose.

“Ah, yes. You must be the new girl.” She narrowed her eyes at you before glancing up at Guy. She seemed more comfortable with your partner’s presence. “It will be nice to have a competent bartender from what I am told of your skills. Come with me.”

Her embellished robes flowed behind her as she led you into the lounge. Your eyes adjusted to the low lighting. Panels hung from the ceiling and modern lamps glowed around the tables. The chique fixtures tastefully placed around make for a modern ambiance. Low circular booths embellished with plush adorned the large space where groups of men sat with their arms around elegant women. Two hostesses in evening gowns occupied the small stage in the center of it all. Their sultry voices filled the room.

Strips illuminated the rim of the bar counter and the back bar glowed. A blond woman worked behind the counter in her evening gown, scrambling with tears near the edge of her eyes as she shuffled from one side of the bar to the other. The woman who met you at the entrance led you past the struggling bartender into a back hallway on the right. The woman knocked on the door that lay at the end of the hall and an energetic voice could be heard from the other side.

She opened the door for you and Guy to reveal a small office. Papers scattered across the mahogany desk, frames tilted crookedly on the mahogany paneling. A man sat in the middle of the chaos, rubbing his goatee. His eyes lit up on seeing his guests.

“Ah! Come in, come in, I have been awaiting your arrival!” the man sitting behind the desk exclaimed. He came around in front of his desk, glancing up at the woman. “Thank you, Mama-san.” She closed the door, retreating back into the hall.

“Thank you for having us, Shima-san.” Guy remarked. The two of you bowed to your new employer.

“Please, call me Daisuke! You must be Aoki-san.” He reached for Guy’s hand, giving it a rigorous shake. Guy was momentarily shocked before he returned the energy. Daisuke turned to you, grabbing your gloved hand, he gave it a kiss. “And you must be Takeuchi-san. Gorgeous, even more beautiful than described!”

“You’re too kind.” The owner waved you off. He motioned to the two plush chairs in front of his desk before maneuvering around to the other side, pulling out a file as he settled back into his seat.

You and Guy sunk into the chairs. You took in the man across from you with poised posture. You learned against the arm of your chair, sitting on the edge with your wrists and ankles crossed. Daisuke did not look young, but not necessarily old either. Fifties? Sixties? You would have to consult with Guy as to your best guesses later. Wrinkles showed around his eyes as he smiled at the two of you. Guy leaned back in his chair, lounging in stark contrast to you.

“ I have heard a lot about you two!” Daisuke flipped through the pages. You resumes, supplied by the informant, you guessed. “Very talented professionals, we are happy to have you here! I was surprised, though, as to why two such talented folks such as yourselves would want to make the trek from the Leaf all the way over to this dinky ol’ place!”

“No, no not at all, Daisuke-san.” You gave a jovial laugh. “Trust us, the journey is well worth it!”

“Just being here in the Sound is like a breath of fresh air,” Guy crossed his legs, the ends of his mouth upturned, “The Leaf takes itself too seriously, it’s like living in a police state over there! I can’t speak for Takeuchi-san, of course, but I’m excited to start my life over here.” You smiled politely at Guy.

“My words exactly, Aoki-san.” You chirped.

“It’s kismet!” Daisuke exclaimed animatedly, slapping the edge of his desk as punctuation which made him chuckle louder. You noted how easily he became pleased with an audience.

“As for getting down to business,” Daisuke shook his hands in a dramatic fashion. “I was hoping that you two could start tomorrow. As much as I’ve been hearing great things, I would like to see you both in action. We didn’t get a chance to have an interview in person and I’d like to see your skills!”

“Why, of course, I feel that’s only logical.” You nodded.

“With beauty like yours, you’ll be a hit in no time, gorgeous Takeuchi-san.” Daisuke turned to Guy. “We haven’t had an actual bartender in a while either! Needless to say, I’m not expecting to be disappointed.” He stood from his chair and you followed suit.

“It was very nice meeting you, Daisuke-san.”

“Come an hour or two before we open tomorrow so you can get an idea of the place.” Daisuke stood from his chair once again.

“Wonderful idea.” Guy remarked. Opening the door, Daisuke showed you out of his office after polite farewells. You maintained your pleasant exterior, even as the door shut behind you.

You were more focused on getting back to your room than anything else. It would be nice to break character and go to bed. You traveled back down the hall, past the blond bartender, the businessmen with their arms around hostesses, and out of the range of Mama-san’s stare. She nodded in acknowledgement at your presence as if to bid you farewell. Guy flashed her a smile, lagging behind you. You stepped back into the plain of neon lights, marching back the way you originally came. Maybe you’d make yourself a small meal before going to bed.

An arm snaked around your waist and a hand on your rear. You didn’t register it at first, but when you did, you slowed, stopping in your tracks. You immediately thought, hoped to Kami, that for some odd reason it was Guy. You looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with him as he was just coming out the door of “HEAVEN”. You looked up at the man with his arm around you. His slender face contorted into a sleazy smile. You tore away from him. Your face scrunched up in anger.

“The fuck are you trying to pull, you fucker?” The man said nothing. Guy came between the two of you. The man puffed out his chest as if to try to size him up. Guy looked at you, silently telling you to continue forward. You huffed and Guy followed, keeping an eye on the stranger. You seethed for the rest of the way back. Guy was silent, giving you space as you boiled.

You both entered your rooms separately. You flung your heels off and tossed your gloves on the floor. You tugged at your hair, feeling the rip of the glue against your skin. The wig flew onto your nightstand along with your cap. You’d take care of it when you were in a better mood. You took a wipe to your make up.

“I could have taken him, you know.” you snapped, standing in your bathroom.

“You could have, I have no doubt.” You heard Guy remark from somewhere in your living area. You tossed the wipe in the trash, storming out into your studio where Guy sat on your couch.

“I could’ve fucked him up,” You surged, zipping an oversized sweatshirt over your dress. You wriggled the red garb out from under it in a swift movement, tossing it on the bed. “I should’ve-... I should’ve made him fling himself off a bridge, that’s what I should’ve done!” You paused, taking your partner in. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Something told me that you needed to decompress,” He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, “And what kind of partner would I couldn’t help with that.” Guy winked at you. You rolled your eyes at his thumbs-up. You stomped to the kitchenette, wetting a paper towel. You tapped your foot against the floor as you rubbed the wig glue out of your hairline. Guy brought a bottle to his lips.

“Where did you get beer?” You stopped mid dab. Guy held another one up with his other hand. Not looking back, he placed it on the couch next to him. Enveloping the paper, you scrambled over to check the fridge. You could’ve cried. “Please remind me to kiss the envoy if we ever meet him.” You threw the wet wad away, reaching over the couch to grab the bottle. You cracked it open on the doorframe to the bathroom before sitting next to Guy. You immediately started downing it, not coming up for air until the liquid had disappeared halfway. He took a long glance at you, chest rumbling as he laughed.

“Slow down there! I brought this to you to take the edge off. I thought you’d sip it.” Guy scratched his temple, the smile fading from his lips. “Can’t do this every time someone gets handsy, right?”

You hummed in question, having downed half your bottle. “Get angry, then drunk?” Guy glanced down at his almost full portion, then back up at you. He crossed his legs, tilting his head. He blinked.

“You’re planning on getting drunk?” You sighed, taking another long swig.

“I’m pissed.”

“You can’t get drunk every time you’re upset.” Guy told you slowly. His eyes nervously shifted.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t be pissed at a dude grabbing my ass?” You arched a brow, placing your now empty bottle on the table. “Not being able to do anything about it?”

“Not what I’m saying. He deserved to be knocked into next week and under normal circumstances I wouldn’t get in your way.” Guy set his drink on the table as well, still full. He leaned back again. “But you’re working as a hostess now in order to gather sensitive information. Unfortunately, you can’t drink every time you get unwanted attention, as much as they deserve a swift punch to the mouth.”

“I don’t like being touched when I don’t want to be touched.” You reached for his beverage. Guy quickly put up a hand to stop yours.

“Well, you also signed up to take missions.” You shrunk into the back of the couch. “You knew when you entered the academy that you might be called to do less than savory things in your career.”

“I was also, what? Seven?” You breathed. You fiddled your hands in your lap, throwing your head back. Guy shifted in his seat, turning more towards you. He wore a serious look on his face. Guy glanced down, trying to choose his words. “I get it, we’re on a job.”

“(Y/N), I don’t really know much about what you do, but I do know that you’re the best at recon. I’m just saying to prepare yourself, watch your back.” You snorted.

“I thought that’s what you were here for-” His wide eyes met yours. The back of the couch still supported your neck as your natural hair sprawled out behind you- “to watch my back.” You missed the red that sprinkled his cheeks.

He opened his mouth, taking just a second to snap out the shock.

“No, uh… I mean yes, but I meant-”

“I know what you meant, don’t worry about it.” You cut him off. Guy looked deeply at you.

“I was assigned to protect you. You know I’ll back you up.” You let out a snicker to yourself.

“I’ll allow it.”

Notes: I want to make it clear that I do not condone sexual harassment or assault. If you find you yourself on the receiving end of this kind of treatment please do not be afraid to speak up and advocate for yourself because chances are that you’re not an undercover ninja trying to collect intel from jerks. It’s also tempting to try to drown your feelings in something else but please try to find healthy outlets and find someone to talk to. 

Also, I’ve been doing research on hostesses/cabaret girls. It is inherently a dark and adult topic (as much as it would be easier for the world to be like Ouran). I do not intend on writing triggering material, but I will continue tag warnings. 

[danganronpa-ps]

[PS] CHAPTER 3 | Execution

 CHAPTER 3 EXECUTION - Vicinio Archangel Vargo 14/20 students remaining. 

Bit by bit, the pressure of being accused starts to close in on him. Do they not see what he sees? It’s mud. Mud. He wouldn’t forget killing someone. That’s inane. “Look, I’ll help you prove it.” Vargo raises one hand and swipes his fingers over a patch of mud, brushing it off and watching it splat sadly against the floor. “But you’re all going to look really silly when you—“ Vargo’s heart drops. He’s stunned to see his hand and jacket come back red.    . . .

"If any of you make it out of here.. When.” He amends. “When you make it out of here, if it’s not too much trouble, could you get into contact with a girl named Rudy Oliveros? She’s... She’s probably just turned fourteen, if I’ve got that right. ... She lives in a foster care home in Manhattan. If you could tell her... If you could tell her what happened to me, gently, I’d really appreciate it.” Vargo closes his eyes, going still. When they open this final time, they glimmer with unshed tears. “I’d hate for her to think I abandoned her.”

Art by: Sasha

GUILTY VERDICT — A CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT! It’s only a moment later that Vargo disappears from the circle of his classmates, parting words leaving his throat feeling raw. For a quick moment the sudden movement has him spiral, at a loss as to where he is, before an awfully cruel sense of familiarity washes over him. Mahogany wall panels and wood flooring pave the way to an imposing set of double doors, looming as far over him as they did when he was a child.

He steadies himself with a deep breath, exhaling heavily through his nose. If he can get through years of grueling hours and stacks of paperwork, if he can struggle through unruly witnesses and threatening criminals, if he can come out of it with a smile, he can do this. He’s worked dozens of cases— all by himself. He can do it one more time. Another breath, this time because he’d been holding it, and he pushes open the courtroom doors.

It’s empty.

Vargo tries to brush aside the unease creeping up his spine as he continues forwards, listening for any other noise besides the echo of his shoes against the floor beneath him. The issue of him having nothing prepared is the least of his problems — he hasn’t a clue what he’s here for or what he’s supposed to be doing, but part of him feels as if he’s about to be sentenced to death. That’d make sense, wouldn’t it? Every other killer had been executed. Maybe this one will just be a touch more ironic (if that didn’t define his whole fucking life already).

Just as he approaches the counsel table, though, the sound of someone clearing their throat draws his attention away from his musings. He turns his head to the opposite table, fully expecting to be ‘surprised’ by someone he’s seen before— and suddenly his blood runs cold.

He sees himself sitting a few feet away, offering that patronizing smile he’s now learned to relax, watching him cooly. This version of him is younger, he can tell — his hair is black, he’s dressed in greys, his eyes are brighter, and his conscience is likely clearer. He’s different in every way, though in one area especially: Vargo never worked the fucking prosecution.

“It’s fitting, isn’t it?” His other half says as he stares, dumbfounded, “Now you really can’t blame anyone but yourself.”

Although now he sees exactly why people want to punch him in the face, Vargo doesn’t get the chance to respond. A glimpse of black appears in his peripheral and causes him to turn his head just that much, a sick feeling building in his gut — and this, arguably, is the worst thing that could have happened.

His father sits at the highest point of the bench, watching him, unfazed by his abrupt appearance and looking for all the world like he doesn’t recognize his own son. If he could help having to keep up with politics, Vargo would make sure that he would never have to see him again, but here he is. 

Solely because Vargo knows things always get worse before they have the chance to get better, he turns around.

Rows upon rows of previously empty pews are suddenly filled with familiar faces, some more blurry than others, all pinning him to the spot with their unforgiving gazes. To say that he recognizes every single one would be a lie (even his memory isn’t that great), but he doesn’t need to. The overwhelming guilt of knowing that yes, these are all the people he’s screwed over with his cowardice and yes, there’s enough of them to fill an entire courtroom is enough to make his skin crawl. Despite all his deeply rooted paranoia, he’s never been the one to panic on the job, and yet he can’t help but notice how his tie is too tight, how his stomach twists.

A trial where he represents himself, while being tried by himself, judged by his own excuse of a father and overseen by everyone he’s had the chance to hurt.

“Hah.” Vargo grins weakly, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek. “What happened to a jury of your peers?”

The joke falls flat, and the rest of his second trial goes just as poorly.

His father lists off every one of his charges: blackmail, perjury, fabrication of evidence, tampering of evidence, extortion, bribery, things that he’s done willingly, things that he’s done with a gun pressed to his back, things that he agreed with, things that he absolutely didn’t, on and on and on— and he has to make a case for each and every one of them. He has no statements, exhibits, witnesses or prepared speeches, but his words are as succinct and persuasive as they’ve always been, even with nothing prepared — because if he doesn’t argue like his life depends on it, he will suffer the consequences.

The vileness of what he’d done had never stopped weighing on his mind. It was all he thought about before he went to bed, when he woke up in the morning, taunting him, plaguing him, letting him know exactly how much of a failure he was. It only made sense that he knew what to say. It only makes sense that they should listen, that they should understand.

They don’t.

What should take hours, days, *weeks* of procedure progresses in the span of what feels like minutes, inhumanly fast. He figures that there’s not much to go off of when one side barely has a case, but this is ridiculous, it’s prejudicial, it’s—

—it’s not meant to be fair, is it?

Vargo can barely breathe after the closing statements are said and done. For the longest time, he sits alone at his table, paranoia closing in on him, drowning out the sound of the figures all around him. He stares holes into the wood as his world shatters and re-materializes right before his eyes, little glass shards prickling his skin in the form of flares of anxiety.

The jury does not deliberate.

His father slams the gavel once, twice, and it hammers the final nail in the coffin.

“The court finds the Defendant, Vicinio Archangel Vargo, guilty on all counts.”

The tension in the room snaps like a rubber band, and Vargo finally cracks.

He stands up in a blind fury, nearly knocking his chair over in the process, pointing an accusatory finger even as the bailiffs come to drag him away. “This isn’t fair- get off of me!“ Vargo struggles against the arms pulling him backwards, uselessly writhing and kicking with a complete, utter lack of dignity. He bares his teeth in a growl, digs his heels, and screams. “IT’S YOUR FAULT THAT I’M HERE! IF YOU WOULD JUST HAVE LET ME COME HOME—!”

“If you want retribution,” his father drawls, “fix your mistake.”

The grip on his arms relinquishes, and Vargo roughly falls back onto the ground. He picks up his head to give his father a real piece of his mind, but when his eyes meet the sight of a desolate, grey area in place of a courtroom, he finds himself at a loss for words. He knows where he is. Two years ago, Vicinio Archangel Vargo should have died.

(In a way, he did.)

As he pushes himself back onto his feet, Vargo only gets to brush off a few specs of dust before he hears the tell-tale sound of a gun being cocked.

“I wish you’d just have done it back then.” The words are bitter, laced with all the venom he’s buried for the past few years. He turns around, rigid, unable to lift his gaze in the fear that he’d start trembling even more. “Spare me the grief—“

A bullet pierces straight through his chest, his hand following the motion. Vargo registers the blood oozing from the wound before the stinging pain drills through him, and as he opens his mouth to speak—

—he’s robbed of the chance.

Vargo’s eyes remain upturned towards the ceiling as he falls backwards, landing on his back with a harsh thud — ripping a wounded sound from his lips. There he lays, blood pooling beneath him, shocked. Even as he feels his life slipping through his fingers, even as the sensation becomes unbearable, all he can think about is how months and months of him trying to stay alive have culminated in absolutely nothing. 

And despite all his willpower, the light in him eventually dims.

His only mercy in death, is that the pain can no longer reach him.

[lovely-angst]

where did we go wrong?

Being married to Tomioka for four months has been the best four months of your life. Of course, he wasn’t very talkative or super affectionate, but he always had his own ways of showing you he loved you. 

You thought back on the times he would constantly send mail back to check up on you during his missions to make sure you were safe and well. He used to always want to be by your side even if he never said a word. He would always hesitate to let you go whenever he had to go on a mission, his hand lingering around yours because he didn’t want to let go. 

You frowned as you thought back to those pleasant memories. Slowly slipping into the covers of the futon beside your sleeping husband, tears filled your eyes. 

Where did those good days go? Where did things go wrong? 

You brought a hand to your mouth to muffle the sounds of your sobs. Was your marriage already failing? 

Ever since he came back from a mission one day, it was never the same. He barely ever spoke a word to you or even shoot a glance your way. If you were lucky and managed to get Tomioka to go into town with you, you found yourself trying harder than usual to hold a conversation with him.

And to make yourself feel even worse about yourself, he seemed to be focusing his attention on Shinobu, the Insect Pillar. 

That was how you ended up crying beside Mitsuri, the Love Pillar, for any sort of love advice for your marriage. She handed you another tissue as you wiped your teary eyes once more, red beginning to show around your swelling eyes.

“I-I don’t know what to do anymore, M-Mitsuri,” you sob beside her as you looked down at your hands. “Maybe Giyuu j-just doesn’t love me anymore,” you confess as new tears begin to fall from your eyes.

“Oh, (Name), I’m sure it’s not like that!” She exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, comforting you. “Tomioka would never do that to you, he loves you, remember that!” 

“How can I believe that he loves me when w-we’re not even talking? It f-feels like we’re strangers again,” you sob as you bring the damp tissues to your eyes once more. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to stick around with somebody as weak as me anymore.”

Mitsuri frowned at your comments before pulling away to look at you, “What do you mean by that? You’re not weak (Name)!” Turning to look at her with a sniffle, you slightly pout your lips before confessing. “He’s been around Shinobu a lot lately, and I get it, she’s a pillar, like he is.” 

You let out a shaky breath, your tears pooling around your eyes. “Being married to him and having him toss me aside like this, makes me feel so...unwanted and replaceable.” 

Mitsuri watched silently as your lips quivered before you turned and sobbed into her chest. She had never seen you so upset before and honestly, it hurt her a lot knowing how much pain you were in. 

“(Name),” Mitsuri starts softly as she rubs your arm soothingly, “There’s not much I can do to help your marriage, but I know there’s still hope for you and Tomioka.”

-

The sun had long set and you were currently making some tea for Tomioka before heading to bed. “Here you go,” you state as you bend down to place a hot cup of tea in front of your husband at the kotatsu table. “Give it a moment to cool down before you drink it.” 

Standing up, you stare down at your husband before letting out a silent breath, “I’m going to...head to bed first tonight, Giyuu,” you inform as you place the rest of the items in the sink. “Goodnight.”

Slipping into the cold covers, you faced the moonlight shining through the panels of the shoji doors as you felt the tears fill your eyes once more. “Maybe I’m just a bad wife..,” you say quietly to yourself as you shut your eyes, the tears flowing down your cheeks and onto your pillow. 

You missed him; you missed him like crazy. You missed the sound of his voice, the feel of his touch, you missed his comforting scent. What you would give to have everything back to what it used to be. 

Your eyes widened as you felt his hands snake around your waist before feeling his body press into your back, “G-Giyuu?”

Why did this feel so foreign, but so at home?

“What are you doing?” You asked as your hands grip his around your stomach, your voice laced in slight anger. 

“I’ve been crying my heart out because of you, but you suddenly act like everything’s okay?” You exclaim, voice cracking towards the end. “Do you know what I went through because of how you treated me, Giyuu? Have you listened to my cries at midnight when I’m at my lowest?” Sobs wracked your body as your hands find their way to your eyes. 

“Why haven’t you said a word to me these past few days? Why do you look at Shinobu the way you used to look at me?” you whisper, throat suddenly swollen from your crying. “Why are you treating me as if I’m nothing?” 

Tomioka held you as your sobs filled the silent room. He held you until your cries fell silent and your breathing settled; you fast asleep in his arms. Gently laying you down on your back, he hovered over you, taking the time to glaze over your features. Bringing his large hand over toward your soft cheeks, he gently ran his finger over your tear-stained cheeks. Your eyes were always red from all of the tears you shed.

Pulling you into his arms once more, he let out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around you. Everything was rough, but at least he could hold you in his arms like this. 

I really wanted to add a fluff ending, but because this is based off my friendship with a friend which has suddenly changed after thanksgiving break, I don’t know where our friendship is headed anymore, so I can’t add a fluff ending :^( 

might or might not add part 2, who knows?

[evilsnowswan]

Who Doesn’t Love a Bad Girl?

Summary: Set in early season 5, this is a shameless kinky piece that’s loosely based on episode 5x02 (the scene in which Andrea confronts Lena in her research lab), making the claim that—if only Andrea had been a little firmer with Lena, nipping her shenanigans in the bud early—the whole disaster of season 5 could have been prevented in its entirety.

Rojascorp with a side of Supercorp and a hint of Superrojascorp.

[Prompted by anon]

Rating: E

AO3: [AO3 Link via reblog (tumblr, pls, fix your sh*t)]

Flying over the city at night, on her way home, Kara listens—not for police sirens, fire trucks, or ambulances; she’s tired and just wants to go back to bed. The city can handle itself for the rest of the night, surely—but for the people who are near and dear to her. Listening to their hearts beat, checking in to make sure everyone she loves is safe and sound before she turns in for the night—it’s like reading her favorite book before bed. It calms her and helps her sleep.

So, hovering in mid-air, high above the sleepless lights of National City, she closes her eyes and feels for them, one by one, ticking them off on the list in her mind. As she does, she can feel her body relax and her heart slow down—that is until there’s only one name left on her list: Lena.

Things between them are… complicated. But some hopelessly stubborn part of her refuses to let go of their friendship; refuses to believe there’s no coming back for them from all this. It’s a small part and growing smaller with every day, every new low blow, but it’s there: spitting and clawing, fighting for survival with a fierceness that has Kara listen for Lena, even when her chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe around the lump in her throat.

It takes her maybe half a second to realize something isn’t right. Lena’s heartbeat is loud—much louder than it should be, given her distance to Cordova Street—and it’s erratic, racing, stuttering, stumbling over itself. Her own heart hammering in her chest, Kara speeds off at once, all thought driven clear from her mind at the distress signal. She’ll be damned if she’ll let her get hurt. No matter what.

“You know that’s what happens, little girl. Bad girls get punished.”

Just outside L-Corp, at Lena’s balcony, Kara stops short. Her eyes are seeing… things, her brain scrambling to make sense of it all and failing.

There’s Lena’s office with the lights still on as usual, and there’s Lena, but she’s not sitting at her desk—not technically, anyway—instead someone else is, with Lena… with Lena draped over their lap, head low and hands and feet barely touching the ground.

“You thought, I’d let you get away with it, hmm?” When she recognizes the voice and the face, Kara nearly drops a few feet in the air, only just catching herself in time before she actually does, a funny feeling in her belly. It’s… it’s her new boss, Andrea Rojas, with a wicked smirk on her face as she brushes Lena’s hair away from her neck, her fingers dancing on Lena’s skin and making her shudder. “Did you?” 

“No.”

“What’s that?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Better.” Andrea’s hand is on Lena’s… skirt, rubbing lazy circles, and Kara’s face is on fire. “No, little girl. No, I don’t think I can.”

What—?!

Kara doesn’t know what to do—not with her eyes or hands or… in general. She still doesn’t understand, but what she gets is that she probably shouldn’t be out here—and not in there either.

“Color, Lena?”

There’s a beat. Lena inhales sharply and Kara’s neck prickles.

“Gree—”

And with that and without warning, Andrea’s hand lands on the seat of Lena’s skirt, hitting the right side of her bottom with a firm smack.

Lena gasps, jerking forward—a gasp of pain or surprise and probably both that sends a tiny jolt through Kara—but Andrea’s other hand is keeping her in place, taking hold of her hip and pulling her closer against her. Lena’s heart is beating out of her chest, her breathing ragged and loud—oh, so loud—in Kara’s ears, and Kara has to keep herself from coming to the rescue, trembling fists clenched at her sides.

“You shouldn’t underestimate me, Lena,” Andrea says, bringing her hand down again, striking her left bum cheek. “Do you really think that I don’t know when someone’s trying to steal from me?”

A steady, rhythmic stream of spanks follows the question, alternating from side to side, and Lena squeals, reaching back desperately with her hand in vain attempt to protect herself. “Ow! Andrea, I—”

“Caught trying to steal my technology? How embarrassing for you. What will your shareholders think? Or the world?” It only takes Andrea a second to catch that hand and pin it to the small of Lena’s back, and the punishment for her crimes—crimes that hearing about doesn’t surprise Kara nearly as much as she wishes it did— the punishment continues unabated. “You know, I really thought more of you, Lena.”

Lena whines and Kara feels hot shame trickling down her own spine, uncomfortable and sticky, recalling a time when Astra had—just that once—put her over her knees. But this isn’t that, exactly, and yet Lena is experiencing the same embarrassment, the same shame and guilt, Kara is sure of it, her head bent and face flushed.

Well, good, Kara thinks, taking herself by surprise at the thought. Maybe someone should make her see reason.

“Oh, and I ran diagnostics before you... shattered my lenses. I know how valuable they are to you, how many hours you spend in them—” Andrea continues in steady rhythm, covering Lena’s upended bottom with hard slaps as Lena drums the toes of her heels against the floor and rocks back and forth, fighting to keep nearly completely quiet. “Whatever are you doing in there?”

Lena grits her teeth, and Kara can practically feel the storm brewing in her chest. She struggles to maintain her composure, but Kara sees the tears forming in the corners of her eyes and hears the little cries that escape from her lips in time with the next spanks.

“You’re cut off, you won’t get another pair from me,” Andrea states, pausing, and Lena slumps with relief, then struggles to rise off her knees. Andrea presses her left elbow hard against her back, forcing her back down. “Not so fast. Where do you think you’re going?”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Come on, Andrea!” Lena struggles against the hold, but she must know it’s futile. Kara does. That’s an iron grip and Lena has no way of breaking it. “Please, let me up.”

Andrea snorts. “That’s cute.” Moving her hand down Lena’s backside, she takes hold of the hem of her skirt and begins to draw it steadily upwards. In doing so, Kara catches her first glimpse of the evidence of just how hard Andrea’s hand has come down on the top of Lena’s thighs already, and her mouth runs dry as she averts her gaze.

She shouldn’t, should she?

“We're only, maybe, halfway through, honey,” Andrea says, delivering two more loud slaps that ring in Kara’s ears. As she lifts her gaze again, she catches Andrea’s smirk and for a second her heart stops, certain she has been spotted, discovered floating far too close for far too long, but then Andrea’s attention is on Lena again, and Kara is sure it’s just her own nerves playing tricks on her.

Andrea leans in and whispers something in Lena’s ear that Kara, still gathering her bearings, doesn’t catch, but that has Lena launch an immediate protest, twisting her body to escape the other woman’s grasp whilst shooting her free arm back in an attempt to push her skirt back down. “Andrea! No, don’t! ... Stop! I don’t want—”

Kara can’t help but be amazed at her fierce resistance. Where has it come from?

“Don’t keep screwing with me,” Andrea growls, the sound hitting Kara square in the chest and making her own heart quiver and jump into her throat. Andrea delivers two sharp slaps squarely on the back of Lena’s exposed thighs, drawing two equally sharp squeals from Lena, and pushes her firmly back into position. “De acuerdo, reinita, hora de hablar.”

Her r’s are rothic, her accent thick, glomming onto Kara’s skin and crawling into every pore, making her suit cling to her body even tighter and her breath come out in a hot puff, visible in the cool night air. 

“What have you been up to in my VR, Lena?”

As humiliating as it has to be to have to speak with her head down and her bottom up in the air, Lena answers almost immediately. “Nothing.”

Andrea clucks her tongue.

“It’s none of your business, Andrea!”

Despite her protests, Lena’s skirt continues its upward rise until it’s bunched at her waist. She is wearing a pretty pair of dark blue panties, thin and snug, with an inset panel of light blue lace at the back—wide at the waistband, but narrowing into a pretty point at her bottom cheeks.

“Is that so?” Andrea runs her fingertips lightly over the lace, then resumes the spanking, smacking a struggling Lena hard and fast over her panties. Color is coming up quickly on the skin not covered by the flimsy underwear, and Kara can tell by Lena’s cries that she is feeling it. “We’ll see about that, won’t we, little girl?”

With a defiant grunt, Lena kicks her legs up in an effort to shake away the pain.

“Legs down!” Andrea commands. As soon as Lena has obeyed, she delivers two hard blows across Lena’s thighs just under her panties, creating instant streaks of red across her soft white skin.

Shushing Lena, Andrea keeps going until it’s clear that she has given up trying to wriggle off her lap.

“Ahora,” Kara watches, petrified, as Andrea releases Lena’s arm and pauses just long enough to slip her fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down quickly to reveal her bottom in one smooth movement. “Obsidian Platinum. What aren’t you telling me, Lena? No one at L-Corp seems to have seen you in weeks, and it’s not like you to neglect your responsibilities.”

Lena pleads, then wails, hands flying to her face, so she can hide behind them, and Kara feels something akin to pity and sympathy for her former best friend tug at her heartstrings.

“A little bird told me, you’ve been holed up in that hidden lab of yours.” Andrea looks down at her firm, round bottom for a moment, admiring the lush reds and pinks, before she raises her hand once more and covers it in a dozen or so firm smacks, moving her hand so that every inch receives its fair share. “I know you, Lena. What are you up to?” 

Lena is crying hard now, sobbing into her hands.

Andrea delivers a series of—unmistakably—painful slaps to the same spots; the tender skin right where bottom meets thigh. It has to be building a bad burn, judging from the way it makes Lena wail and wiggle, unable to endure the proceedings with any semblance of composure any longer and trying to move away from the merciless hand, but Andrea doesn’t let her escape, finishing off with half a dozen more unrelenting slaps.

“Whatever it is, Lena. It stops now, you hear me!”

“Yes… yes!” Lena scrambles wildly, head thrown back with her next cry. She is choking through her sobs and tears, and, repositioning, Andrea pauses to let her catch her breath, letting her palm rest on Lena’s bottom—which has turned a deep red color, reminding Kara of the apple tree in the garden back home in the fall.

“Oooh! … Please—please,” Lena struggles for breath, trying to bring her hands back, but stopping herself halfway there, grasping the chair instead. “Please, I’ve… had enough. Please stop!”

Andrea looks pensive for a moment, hand ghosting over Lena’s skin and making her shiver. “I think,” she says slowly, drawing out her words like deadly bubblegum, ready to pop. “I think, I’ll be the judge of that—and I believe we aren’t there yet.” 

Kara swallows hard against her heart stuck in her throat. She can almost taste Lena’s panic—even when she knows that to be impossible—and the humiliation burns hot in her own abdomen, stirring up its own kind of turmoil inside of her.

The next slap catches Lena on the back of her thighs, just above the knees. “Andrea!” Lena struggles once again to rise off Andrea’s lap, but before she can gain an inch, Andrea has resumed with unimpressed vigor.

Lena yelps and wails, arching her back, her words unintelligible nonsense, slurred by tears and snot.

Two more loud blows falling on already well-punished flesh have to be going through Lena like burning bullets. For another minute or two, her flaming red bottom is covered with good, solid spanks, while she kicks and struggles, until she goes completely limp over Andrea’s lap, her face burning nearly as red as her thighs and bottom.

“Will you be a good girl now?”

Andrea stops, waiting for a reaction that doesn’t come, and surveys the scene, visibly satisfied at the sight of Lena’s raised skirt, her panties on the floor, her deep red bottom across the dark material of her pants, and Lena, who remains in place, sobbing in submission over her knee.

Something tugs at Kara then, dark and feral, warring with the protective instinct lodged in her chest and winning out, as she heaves a heavy breath. There’s something very appealing about Lena like this, spent and pliable, clutching Andrea’s pant leg in one hand and the chair support with the other, letting her tears fall freely, and Kara has to resist the temptation to fly in there, scoop her up, and tenderly kiss her burning cheeks.

“Alright, up with you now.”

Her chest goes tight with longing as Andrea strokes Lena’s back gently. She puts her hand on her shoulder, guides her upright, and checks her tear-streaked face, brushing at a streak of black mascara on her cheek with her thumb, before she pulls her into her lap, bringing her close, and lets her finish her cry in her arms, with her head resting against her chest.

“Shhh, Lenita, shh.”

Lena slowly calms down and eventually stops crying, but her body still heaves, and, whispering into her hair, Andrea wraps her arms tighter around her and kisses the crown of her head. “I got you, corazón. I got you.”

[prettyboypeterparker]

Peter isn’t exactly sure where Tony got this outfit. Well he has an idea but part of Peter hopes that this isn’t from a sex shop but he knows it most definitely is. Peter picks up the fishnet stockings and fingers at the holes, he’s never worn stockings before. He’s actually never worn women’s clothing, if you don’t count the times he dressed in his Aunts dresses when he was a kid, he’s not against female clothes because he’s seen some of the stuff girls his age wear, mainly MJ, and all her stuff seems comfortable and he wouldn’t mind wearing tights but it’s been drilled in him to look masculine. It’s not his Aunts fault, she never cared what he wore but all the men in his life did and that influenced him a lot.

Peter shakes out of his thoughts and picks up the red velvet dress, it’s small and looks tight. Peter tugs at the voluminous black tulle underneath and notes that it’s not scratchy like most Halloween costumes are, there’s a corset attached at the torso and Peter is going to need help with that but it’s actually really pretty and there’s a bow where the dresses neckline dips. There’s a long silk cape to go with it and an expensive pair of Mary Janes laying in a soft pastel pink box with pink crepe paper, the heels on them look doable and Peter’s confident he’ll be able to walk in them. In a nondescript bag is a palette of make up that consists of blacks and reds to match the dress and in sitting at the bottom is a pair of silk black gloves. All he needs is a basket and he should be set.

Peter decides he’s going to need help and sends and S.O.S message to MJ, she’s over within twenty minutes not even questioning why he needs her.

“Red Riding Hood huh? Is he gonna be the Big Bad Wolf?” MJ asks as she helps Peter strip.

“I guess? He didn’t really say, just told me to watch out for a delivery and to enjoy the gift when I got it.” Peter drops his jeans and shirt onto the carpet and stands almost naked in front of MJ.

“Does he expect you to wear this as well?” Peter is confused for a moment when MJ turns around and holds out an oxidised blood red lace bodysuit.

It’s all lace at the top and a sheer panel around the bottom half and Peter blushes hard as MJ waggles it in front of him.

“I didn’t know he sent that. That’s so embarrassing.” Peter snatches the lingerie up and tries to shove it into the small bag he missed.

“I think it’s hot. You should totally wear it. I’m sure Tony would enjoy it a lot.” MJ winks.

“Whose side are you on!” Peter yells exasperated.

“Yours Pete, I’m just thinking about your sex life.” Peter frowns.

“Don’t ever think about my sex life. Please.”

“Anyways go get into that bodysuit and slip into the dress. I’ll help you from there.” Peter sighs but takes the lingerie and dress into his bathroom.

He drops his boxers and even though it takes him a hot minute to figure out how to get into the bodysuit (thank god for the snap shut crotch piece) he manages to get it on. The dress is easier all Peter has to do is slip it on over his head and pull it down and slot his arms into the puffy sleeves.

“You done?” MJ calls out.

“Yeah, I’m done.” Peter leaves the bathroom and walks back to MJ, she’s sitting on the bed playing with the make up palette.

“Holy shit, you look... wow.” MJ stands and smiles, her hands coming to rest on her hips.

“Thanks. I feel funny.” Peter reaches down and pulls the bottom of the dress until it sits mid thigh.

“Stop fussing, now get the stockings on.” Peter sits down and MJ helps him with the fishnets.

Afterwards Peter asks MJ to tighten the corset and he’s going to kill Tony when he sees him next. MJ instructs him to hold onto the post of the bed and to take a deep breath, she yanks on the ribbon of the corset and it crushes Peter’s ribs.

“Is it suppose to hurt like this?” Peter asks through gritted teeth.

“Yup, pain is beauty Parker.” MJ keeps tightening until she deems it done and ties the ribbon off into a neat bow.

It takes Peter nearly five minutes to get use to the feeling of not feeling his ribs.

“Make up next.” MJ says cheerfully.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this Jones.” Peter follows MJ into the bathroom and sits on the plush fluffy chair that usually resides under the marble counter top.

MJ does his makeup and they chat about school and how she’s going steady with a girl named Gwen. Peter wasn’t really shocked to find out that MJ was bisexual, she gave off the vibe when they were dating so he wasn’t exactly stunned when she told him. He’s happy for her all the same though.

“Alright makeup done, now it’s just your cape, gloves and shoes. Oh and hair, we can’t forget the hair.” Peter nods and lets MJ tousle his hair, going for artfully messy.

They head back into the bedroom and Peter slides into his heels while MJ ties his cape around his neck, the last piece is the gloves and they roll up to his inner elbow where they rest comfortably.

“All done Peter, you look amazing. I’m sure Tony’s going to enjoy this.” Peter looks at himself in the mirror and can’t help but admire himself.

For all the times MJ has told him she sucks at makeup she’s done a damn good job on his face, the bright red lipstick is perfect and the smoky eye really deepens his brown irises nicely. He’s got a rosy blush over his cheeks and nose and a hint of shine at the tip.

“It looks amazing MJ.” Peter turns around and hugs his best friend.

“No problem, just have fun tonight that’s all I ask.” Peter smiles and walks over to his phone that’s charging on his side table.

He texts Happy that he’s ready to leave. Peter unhooks his phone and places it in one of the many ties on the dress, tucking it in safely before walking with MJ to the elevator then down to the lobby. Happy is already waiting for them and greets Peter with a smile and offers to drive MJ home.

“That would be great thanks.” MJ says politely as Happy opens the car door for them.

The drive to the venue doesn’t take long but Peter suddenly grows nervous.

“This was a bad idea. I can’t do this.” Peter stresses.

“Dude chill, you’re okay, nothing is gonna happen beside maybe a little making out.” MJ reassures him with a soft smile.

“Are you sure?” MJ laughs.

“It’ll be fine, go break a leg or whatever.” Peter nods and takes a deep breath.

“Make sure she gets home safe Happy.” Peter tells the bodyguard/friend.

“Will do Mr Parker.” Peter smiles at the man and gets out of the car.

“Oh you forgot one thing Peter.” Happy calls out before he walks away.

Happy sticks an arm out the window and dangling from his hand is a wicker picnic basket.

“Thanks Happy.” Peter takes the basket and slides it down his arm to sit in the crook of his elbow.

Peter waves at the car before walking towards the doors, a bouncer is standing there with a clipboard and stops Peter before he can go in.

“Name?” He asks in a thick Scottish accent.

“Peter Parker. I’m Tony Starks Guest.” Peter says meekly.

“Ah right, go right on in. Sorry to keep you waiting.” The man says as he opens the door.

Peter walks past him and smiles, the inside of the venue is bubbling with life. Music plays heavily and it seems to be a bass boosted version of Monster Mash, Peter pushes through the sea of bodies in search of Tony. He finds said man standing on the bar dancing with Pepper, Tony’s dressed in tatty jeans with no shirt he’s got a pair of wolf ears perched on his head and there’s a belt around his waist that has a pretty good looking tail hanging off the back.

Peter can’t help but laugh as Tony starts doing the twist, he manages to get Pepper to join in before Peter decided to let himself be known.

“What great big eyes you have, Daddy!” Peter shouts up at the older man, it grabs his attention and he looks down.

His smile grows when he sees Peter and helps him up onto the bar.

“All the better to see you with, baby.” He replies, grin turning wolffish.

Peter leans forward and kisses Tony, makeup be damned.

“You look so fucking stunning kid.” Tony says into his ear, tongue licking the shell as he draws back.

“Not too bad yourself Mr Wolf.” Tony laughs then grabs Peter’s hands and shimmies with him and they dance on the bar top until the next song comes on.

Thriller blasts through the speakers and Tony mouths along with the words as him and Peter dance. It’s amazing and Peter feels light and carefree, his chest pulses with the beat of the song and seeing Tony look so laid back and relaxed was also amazing.

“Come with me to get a drink.” Peter steps down from the bar with Tony and they walk through the dancing bodies.

They arrive at an ice chest that’s filled with fizzy drinks and water.

“You want some pop sweetheart?” Peter nods and Tony hands him a can of grape soda.

He cracks the tab open and gulps down the syrupy drink, Tony chugs at his water bottle then throws it in the trash where Peter drops his can.

“I want some fresh air.” Peter agrees with Tony and they walk outside where it’s a lot quieter.

It’s not even a second before Tony’s pushing Peter up against the wall, mouth coming to his neck and licking at the salty skin there.

“Eager much?” Peter jokes as Tony laves at his throat.

“You look so good.” Tony flashes teeth and now that there’s no strobing lights Peter can see fake little fangs hanging from Tony’s incisors.

“Oh Daddy, what big teeth you have.” Peter says mousy like.

“All the better to eat you with, baby.” Tony runs his tongue along his teeth before leaning in and biting hard into Peter’s neck.

It shouldn’t be hot like it is but Peter’s knees are buckling and his heart is skipping.

“I think we should take this somewhere more private.” Tony murmurs against his skin.

“But you’re the host, you can’t leave your own party.” Peter mentions, mind turning to mush as Tony rubs his fingers over his thighs.

“I can and I am. Are you coming little Red?” Peter bites his lip but nods his head.

“Yes Daddy.”