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thebestofoneshots · 8 months

Note

This isn’t really a request but this came to may head at three in the morning ok Imagine like your getting fucked by one of the Marauders or all of them and yk those moving pictures they have in the wizard world image they have a whole box filled of the reader getting back shots and EVERYTHING 😵‍💫🥴

THE STASH | marauders x reader

Pairing: J.P. x S.B. x R.L x Female Reader

Word Count: 5 k

Warnings: Smut, finger fucкing, a little bit of PTSD on Sirius, pictures taken w/o reader’s knowledge, reader being insecure and gaining back confidence thanks to the boys.

Prompt: You find the boy's stash, filled with lusty pictures and they make you feel insecure, thoughts about not being good enough for them arise, the catch is, that’s THE OLD stash. (Happy ending)

Notes: I had a similar idea already in my head so when I saw this ask I just knew I had to make it happen.

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

You knocked on their door a couple of times when no one said anything, you decided to let yourself in, “Rem? Jamie? Sirius?”

No answer.

You looked around and went to sit by Remus’ bed. He said he’d see you in their room later that night for study and maybe something more, but with study club and prefect duties, you assumed he was as busy as the two other boys were with the quidditch training. You didn’t mind it much though, their room was a lot more quiet to study in than yours, and it was always fun to see their surprised faces when they walked in and you were there.

You were taking your book and some parchment out when a pot of ink fell from your bag and onto the floor. There was a thud and then another one and then it spilled all over. You gasped and left the bag on the side before leaning down to pick it up. You whispered a quick “reparo,” and the crystal pot wasn’t leaking anymore, but the ink was still on the floor and some of it was spilling down the wooden floorboard.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you summoned a napkin from your bag and started to clean as best as you could, but it didn’t seem to be working, it was still spilling down into what looked like a nook on the floor. You frowned and looked at the wooden board in detail only to realize there was a section that was a little more worn than the rest.

You frowned and tried to lift the board by digging your nails on the side but it wasn’t working, you huffed and walked over to Sirius’ night table to see if he still had his pocket knife there. Luckily he did, and you took it, pulling out one of the blades and using it as a crane to lift the wooden board.

Once you did you realized the ink had slipped inside most of the things they kept in there. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered continuously as you tried to pull off the things in fear that they would be ruined with the ink. There were some old letters, some hand-rolled cigars, a few potions and then a small box, that one had gotten most of the ink. You winced and pulled it out, biting your lip as you tried to concentrate. You had been so busy with the cleaning, that you never saw the spiderwebs that covered most of the items.

“Evanesco,” you whispered, focused solely on the ink, which successfully disappeared, but so did the small lock they had on the box and it opened by itself. You blinked a couple of times when you saw what was inside. You carefully grabbed one of the images, a stunning red-headed witch, winking at you as she bounced around, with her very large, and very beautiful breasts in full display.

You gulped as you stared at her, she wiggled her shoulders a bit and gave you another wink. You sucked in a breath, she was freaking stunning. And probably there because of James’ fixation with redheads.

The rest of the pictures were turned over, but curiosity got the best of you, and you took another piece of paper from the box. That one was bent in four, as if it had been ripped from a magazine. You slowly unbend it, first one fold and then the other and there was another stunning witch in the image.

This one had smaller breasts, but she was leaning down on a bed, perfectly manicured hands brushing over her own folds, two perfectly long and well-shaped legs on the side. She had dark skin and the light reflected on her legs as she accommodated on the bed, her head leaning back with what looked like a sigh as she rolled her hand over her clit. She too was beautiful, and perfect.

You sat the image on the side, next to the redhead and pulled another one. One of the smaller ones, only to be met with yet another stunning witch, perfectly flat stomach, and beautiful perky breasts, she was riding a pillow, one hand on the bed and looking straight at you as she bit her lips, inviting, enticing. You placed her next to the others as you pulled another image. And then another, and then another.

Image after image, perfectly attractive witches in all sorts of positions, some by themselves, some with companions (either other hot witches or the cock of a wizard or two). You pressed your legs together, there was a mix of feelings inside you. First of all, you were a little turned on after seeing such kind of imagery. But second, and most important. You were a little upset.

Which was ridiculous, you knew. Expecting the boys to pleasure themselves with the thought of you in mind when you weren’t around was stupid, especially when there were clearly much better and hotter witches in the market. What with their perfectly round breasts and their beautiful lips and flat stomachs and long legs and rosy cunts. You looked at them with a bit of a frown, they all had something in common, they were perfect, and you? You were far, far from that.

Now you weren’t upset that the boys were doing themselves, you knew men needed a lot more release than women did and you tried to keep that in mind as you placed all the beautiful witches back in their box, but you couldn’t help but think: Did they also think of them when they were with you? Did they imagine the beautiful redhead’s breasts when they were kissing yours, or maybe that they were in between the legs of that girl with the gorgeous reflective skin instead of your own?

While the pictures were meant to be stimulating, and they had been a little at the beginning, the more you thought about them, the more you thought they were so much unlike you and the more your thoughts continued to spiral.

“Such beautiful witches…” you murmured as you closed the box, “and they are equally gorgeous men… why are they–“ You didn’t finish your words out loud, too painful to say them outside of your head.

Why are they with me?

You carefully placed the box back into its spot, cleaned the rest of the things that had gotten stained and placed everything back in their stash. You carefully placed the wooden plank back where it belonged and put Sirius’ knife back in his drawers. You took a deep breath, not feeling up for much and instead ripped a page from your notebook.

“I’m feeling a little sick, see you boys tomorrow.”

It was simple enough not to make them question further, you left it on top of Remus’ bed and left the room.

The following day, the boys being as marvelous and attentive as they were, had gotten you to forget about the stash almost completely. And things had been absolutely perfect since then.

At least until a few days later, you had been playing wizards chess with Sirius on his bed, and after he beat you for the third time making you feel both hopeless and a little dumb for not anticipating his moves –which was also ridiculous because Sirius had been a wizard chess champion– he offered to make it up to you.

It was in the spark in his eyes that you knew exactly what he meant. You bit your lip, Remus was reading a book on his bed while James was snoring lightly next to him, one hand draped across the other boy’s torso. You knew they’d want to join in when they realized what you and Sirius were up to, and it sent a shiver down your stomach.

“What do you say, doll?” Sirius asked as he levitated the chess board and the broken pieces to the side, inviting you to come closer.

You huffed “You think you can make it up with your little puppy eyes?”

Sirius pretended to think about it for a second before nodding. “While they should be enough, I’m still planning to use more than just my looks to make you feel better.”

You returned the smile and leaned closer to him, moving to straddle his sitting form, his back was pressed to the headboard and you could feel he was at least a little excited as you leaned into him.

“Did you win so many times just so you could say that to me?” You asked in disbelief, you were drumming your fingers near the nape of his neck.

“I might have been a little extra attentive,” he replied as he grabbed onto your hips and placed a kiss on your neck. “I know how riled up you get when you can’t best me,” he said before placing another kiss, this time further up, “I kind of enjoy seeing your little frown, and angry looks,” he admitted, he was now kissing your jaw. You rolled your hips into his and he tightened his grip on your hips in response.

You smiled, loving the fact that you knew exactly what Sirius liked and how to get him worked up, at least as much as he knew of you. You rolled your hips again and he reached his hand under your skirt, feeling the outside of your leg before flicking his hand to the inside of it. To the softer skin that he grabbed with firm tenderness. Itching his hand closer and closer, making sure to massage your skin, tauntingly.

You leaned your head onto his shoulder, letting his beautiful hair fall on your face as you rolled your hips again, a lot softer this time, matching his pace and wanting his hand to come closer.

“Eager, are we?” he teased.

“Shhh, you’ll wake up Jamie,” you said as you leaned over to kiss his neck. He bit his lip to hold back a moan and finally placed his hand over your panties, tracing a soft line over your slit. You bucked your hips against his hand and he chuckled lightly.

Remus, who had been focused on his book so far, frowned and looked up at the two of you, smirking a little when he noticed what you were up to. Of course, he knew that chuckle, it was Sirius’ sexy teasing laugh.

“Easy love or you’ll be the one to wake up Prongs,” he said, leaning his head to your ear and softly nibbling on it. He traced his hand over your slit a couple more times, and you bucked your hips again. He smiled, you didn’t see it, but you felt it against your skin, “All right, all right…” he said as he flicked his finger over the hem of your panties and moved them aside. You leaned even closer to him as he dug his fingers in, “All of this for me?” he teased as he felt how wet you were.

Remus, who was now only half looking at his book, had somewhat of a fun time as he listened in to your conversation with Sirius. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it stimulating. But he also knew Sirius had had a bit of a bad week, so he thought of letting him have you just for himself, at least for a little bit longer, or until James woke up, just as eager to join in.

“Sirius please,” you whined with a frown and he smiled, letting his fingers trace up until they found your clit, making circles over it, which had you bucking your hips against him again. You bit the side of your cheek as you allowed him to move his hand, leaning in to kiss his neck again, to muffle any possible moans with his skin.

“May I?” he asked, teasing your entrance with his index.

“Mhm,” you said and bucked your hips again, eager for him to do his thing. And he complied, digging his finger inside and allowing it to move inside you as expertly as ever.

“So tight,” he whispered, Remus’ cock twitching at Sirius’ words and reconsidering whether he actually wanted to wait more before joining in.

He did not, so he carefully lifted James’ arm from his torso and walked towards Sirius’ bed. He sat right beside the two of you, a cocky smile on his face as he tilted his head to the side, “You two having fun there?” he asked, “without me?”

“You’re always welcome to join in Moony,” Sirius said with a teasing grin as he pulled you back just a little. You had both of your hands on Sirius’ shoulders, and you were now using them as leverage to ride his hand.

Moony smiled, “I might just watch for a while,” he said, leaning back and placing one of his hands on the back of Sirius’ neck. He knew how much small actions and touches like that made Sirius react, and he smiled as the boy’s breath hitched in his throat. He then turned to look at you, a mischievous grin on his face, he took his wand out and whispered “Evanesco.”

Suddenly both your shirt and bra disappeared, giving both boys the perfect sight of your breasts perking up at the sudden cold. Sirius grunted as he stared, and Remus hummed satisfied. You clenched around Sirius’ fingers –which were now two– whimpered and let out a soft moan.

But then, as you felt their gazes on you, and you felt your own boobs bouncing as you continued to ride Sirius’ expert fingers, you started to feel self-conscious, of how you looked, of how they were staring at you, on whether they were actually thinking of you or imagining something else, someone else. Maybe the beautiful redhead? The busty blonde? The reflextive-skinned goddess with the beautiful legs? The brunette with the beautiful ass?

Suddenly the lights flickered, and they were gone. You relaxed, Sirius felt the grip on his shoulder untensing, but he thought it was because you were close. But Sirius liked to see your fucked out face when he had his fingers inside you, and in seconds the lights were turned back on, and you tensed instantly.

The muscle movements were normal, but the way you suddenly dug your nails into his shoulders was not, at least not in the moment it was happening and not in the way it was either. Something was up.

He stopped moving his hand in an instant, “you all right, angel?” he asked, a small wrinkle forming on his forehead as his brows furrowed together.

You seemed to be lost in thought for a second, Remus noticed that too, “Yeah… just. Let’s leave the lights off today.”

Now it was Remus’ turn to frown, he took his hand from Sirius’ neck and sat straighter, pulling back and leaning in closer to look at your face, his hand instinctively traveling to your thigh. Sirius, with one hand still inside you –now unmoving– was brushing his thumb in circles on your waist, they were both giving you their unwavering attention, and your breath hitched in your throat. You looked at them nervously, your eyes traveling from boy to boy at unprecedented speeds and you bit your lip, and then the lights were off again.

Once they were off, you sighed and leaned your head on Sirius’ shoulder. He felt how you relaxed in an instant, and his frown deepened. “Angel, what is it?”

“Nothing, light’s giving me a headache,” you lied.

Sirius turned to Remus, while he couldn’t see much, he knew Remus would probably be able to see his questioning stance easily, with his enhanced senses, at least. “You believe her?” he mouthed.

Remus shook his head in response, and when he realized Sirius couldn’t actually see he turned to you and placed his hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure that’s it, luv?”

You swallowed, which was enough indication you weren’t, and you lied again, “Yes, let’s just, continue as is.”

Sirius knew you were lying, and he hated it when you lied to him, he also hated not being able to see shit while Remus could see your every reaction so he turned the lights on, didn’t even use his wand for it, and you tensed again.

You were taken aback by that and swallowed thickly. Your breath was slightly ragged and it was not because you were turned on, in fact, if anything, you felt rather apprehensive now. You cleared your throat. “You know, maybe I’m just not feeling it,” you lied again and pulled yourself off of his hand.

Sirius felt way too many things at the same time, he was worried about your reaction since he thought he’d done something wrong. He was angry because he knew you were hiding the exact reason; he wanted, no, he needed to know what was up so he would never do it again, and thirdly, he was upset, he’d felt…rejected. And by you, no other.

By the time Sirius reacted again, you were buttoning your shirt up and walking towards their door. James, who had been asleep till then, was finally awoken by the lights coming on and off and the small commotion going on. He was confused, at first he thought you were just playing, but perhaps that was not it.

But Sirius was faster, and he jumped over Remus to get to the door just as you were opening it and shut it closed. You jumped back just a little, shocked at how fast he’d moved, you were now the one with a frown, anger bubbling to your chest, Sirius’ temper had always been something you’d learn to deal with, and even if you knew it was justified now, that didn’t stop yours from flaring up.

“That’s not it,” he said confidently, “that’s not it and you’re not getting out until you tell me what’s upset you.”

“Sirius,” Remus said now, ever the conciliator. He’d also stood from the bed and walked the few strides left to get next to the two of you.

Maybe it wasn’t the best reaction you could have had, but you were already pretty shaken up by the situation at hand, by your rather torturous thoughts and by Srius’ slamming of the door. “Oh, so you know my body better than I do?” you said defensively, “you would know if I have or not a headache.”

“YES!” he responded stubbornly. “I know how it reacts when it has a headache and it’s not the way you were reacting now!”

You shook your head as you scoffed, James was now sitting on the bed looking at the situation both confused and worried.

“Moony! Back me up on this?” he said as he turned his face to him.

Remus bit his lip, as he shook his head, thinking before speaking. “He’s right luv, that was not your headache reaction.”

You scoffed, “ff course, you’d take his side.”

“I’m not taking any sides.”

“Well you are, just don’t realize it!” you said angrily. “If I say I have a headache, I have one and that’s it. Now, I want to leave.”

“Darling,” Remus said as he let out a breath, he seemed worried and upset as well now, you were trying really hard not to feel bad about it, trying to remind yourself why you needed to leave.

It was Sirius who spoke again, his lips quivering as he found the right words, “Just tell me what I did wrong, I’ll never do it again, I promise,” his voice broke near the end. He was panicking, he was terrified he’d hurt you and that you’d leave thinking the worst of him. You knew what was hapening had brought back some past trauma and you didn’t want to be the catalyst of another panick attack.

You took a deep breath when you heard him, your frown deepening as you considered your words, “I found your stash.”

The three men went quiet in an instant. Sirius looked like a deer trapped in headlights, Remus’ jaw had tightened and you’d heard James’ gasp in the back.

“Darling, I–“ Sirius tried to speak but you cut him off.

“No, no,” you tried to reason, more with yourself than with him. “I get, it’s fine, you need your release time and all that, I don’t mind.”

“Well, you clearly do,” Remus said. You felt a hand on your shoulder, it was James’. He had walked towards you the moment he heard about the stash but you hadn’t noticed until then. You flinched but missed the hurt look that etched his features as he looked at you.

“Well yes. But it’s a stupid feeling nonetheless. I’ll get over it. Just need time.”

“It was me,” James said from behind, “it was my idea, not Sirius’. Don’t be upset at him.”

You swallowed thickly, not wanting to be angry at James for something so natural in men, let alone because you knew this whole mess was created due to your own thoughts and insecurities, not theirs. And now you were upsetting them, what a great bIoody girlfriend you were.

“I don’t bIoody care whose idea it was!” you spat. “Please let me off,” you said then, leg bouncing, you wanted to get out before you said something that would upset them more.

“We’ll never do it again if that makes you feel better,” Sirius tried.

“No it– It fucking doesn’t, okay? It’s fine, it’s… Found it a couple of nights ago when my ink pot fell on the floor.” The three boys exchanged a look with each other, had either of them changed its spot? “It’s pretty fresh in my mind and– I just– I can’t stop thinking you’re imagining them while being with me.”

“Them?” Sirius asked, confused.

“The pretty witches!” you responded, almost angrily. Remus, who was in front of you looked confused, and you huffed before adding in more detail. “Beautiful redhead,” you looked at James. “Gorgeous blonde,” you added as you turned to Sirius. Then looked back at the taller boy, “need I elaborate?”

You heard James gasp from behind. “She found the old stash!”

“Ah, so you have a new and improved one,” you said now, and shook your head as you turned at the door. Sirius was leaning in and he had a cheeky smile on his face now, which pissed you off even further.

“You could call it that,” he said with a shrug.

“Sirius,” Remus said calmly again. “Don’t.”

But Sirius just smiled instead, “Oh but, I’m impressed. Our lovely angel was jealous.”

“I was not.” You said flatly. “Get off the door, please,” the last part was much more of a beg than a demand.

Sirius shook his head, “not until you see the new stash.”

Remus and James exchanged looks after that, not even sure if they should or shouldn’t stop Sirius.

“I don’t want to see the witches you use to wank off now, it’s enough with the images already in my head. Can’t stop thinking of them, of you thinking about them when you’re looking at me.”

Sirius’ face fell instantly, his teasing stance almost faltering but not his determined blockage of the door.

“That’s not–“

“Have you considered perhaps it was the other way around?” Remus asked as he placed a slightly hesitant hand on your shoulder.

“What?”

“That we imagined you when looking at them.”

You were taken aback by that. No, you hadn’t considered that. “What about the redhead, can’t tell me she wasn’t there because of James’ old obsession with Evans?”

James sighed, it was. That’s why they had to get a new stash.

“She needs to see the new stash,” Sirius said while looking at the two other boys.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” James intervened, it had been his idea after all, and he had admitted it to you now. He didn’t want to have you get mad over something else, and this time your anger would be indisputably justifiable.

“I think it is,” Sirius insisted.

You sighed, “you can continue deciding if you’re going to show me your new fuckable witches or not a different day. Sirius, get off the door.”

He shook his head and turned to James, “Please?”

“I don’t want to see them! Enough is enough!”

You turned to the side to try and find another exit when you bumped into Remus, he had a box in his hand. He raised it a bit, you knew what it was instantly.

“Remus!” James complained and went to get it but was hastily stopped by Sirius who got in the way and trapped him in his arms.

“Prongs behave!” He said sternly.

The path to the door was free now, but Remus’ serious stance made you curious, even more when he moved his finger to his lips and bit hard enough to draw bIood.

“What the fu–“

“It’s so no one can open but us,” he explained. “We bIood charmed it.”

You looked at him with a shocked face, you didn’t think they’d go to such lengths to hide their spicy stuff, what the hell did they even have there?

Some of the metal hinges at the top moved around a little bit, looking almost like a miniature Gringotts vault, and then it snapped open. Remus pushed it your way. You looked at the three boys before picking the first image up. It was Remus, shirtless Remus on the day you’d gone swimming at the Potter’s last summer. He was pulling his hair back and water glistened all over his torso, he looked at you and winked, before turning to look at something else.

You gasped and pulled another picture, it was James and Sirius, both also shirtless, and they were making out under a tree. Sirius had his leg in between James’ and was leaning onto him rather intensely.

The next one was you, you had the swimsuit you’d bought that summer, the one you thought looked really good on you, and you were on your knees, looking for something on the sand, your ass was slightly prompted up and the picture was obviously focused on that. You swallowed thickly and went to grab another one.

You again, this time while making out with Remus, his hand was on your ass and you had realized they were taking a picture, looking at the camera with a diverted gasp before covering the lens with your hand.

You took another one, and this time around you were genuinely shocked, it was Remus, being blown by James. His pinky pretty lips wrapped around Rem’s cock. “Oh, wow.”

James frowned, he knew what else there was in there and he wasn’t sure if he wanted you to see it, he had never felt worse about his own ideas than now. Responsible, he knew he had bertrayed you, in a way. You took the next picture and stared at it for a minute.

It was you again, well, you’re back at least. You were riding Sirius, moving back and forth over his cock as he helped you, hands on your waist as he bit his lip. You didn’t see your face, but you knew it hadn’t been that long ago. If Sirius’ new tattoo was any telling.

You looked at the boys shocked, you hadn’t even realized they’d taken the picture, but you looked as pretty as any witch in the other photos, how had they gotten you to look so good?

They hadn’t done anything, it was just you.

“You don’t have to–“ James started, but you had already picked up another picture.

“Shut up,” you said simply.

You again, this time you were sprawled on the bed with a blindfold on your head. That had been on your birthday. James had one of his hands on your leg, dangerously close to your slit while Sirius was kissing your breast and sucking at your nipples.

And there was more, a lot of pictures from that day, all in compromising positions. Some involving you and the boys, some involving only the boys on different occasions, some you remembered, some in which you hadn’t even been present. There was even one of Sirius wanking off to the picture of you in the swimsuit you had seen earlier.

“I’m sorry–“ James said, now sounding distressed and shaking Sirius off him. “I’m sorry angel, we should have never done it.”

You grabbed another one of the photos, it had clearly been rushed, the camera being hidden as you turned your head to look at the boys, this time around you were kneeling on the bed, and James was jerking himself off to you, teasing your entrance before pulling out completely and allowing his cum to fall over your ass and back.

“You’re right.,” you said as you placed the pictures back in the box, expression neutral. “You should have never done it without asking me–” James swallowed.

“Love I–“

“James, shut up!” you said again, giving the pictures another look. “You should have never done it without asking me first,” you said as you flipped through some more pics and tsking. “I would have helped.”

James’ jaw dropped, and you looked at him with a cheeky smile. Sirius was looking at you proudly and satisfied with his choice while Remus stared at the picture you had in your hand. The one where you were getting a back shot but was shaky and blurry because the camera had been hidden before you saw it.

You moved the picture up, holding it between your fingers as you displayed it to the boys, “What do you say we recreate this one, but with better quality?”

Sirius scoffed a laugh and smiled.

“I’ll get the camera,” Remus said simply.

James was still stunned, and you leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Sirius leaned from behind and kissed you on the cheek “I told them you should know about it from the beginning but they said you’re too pure for it.”

You laughed at that, “you boys keep calling me angel,” you said as you turned to Sirius and wrapped your hands around his neck, “but I wouldn’t have done all the things I have with you all if I wasn’t the exact opposite,” you added with a smirk.

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This one might get a part two, if you guys wanna see that <3

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natalievoncatte · 6 months

Text

Lena squared herself up after she stepped from the elevator.

This has taken considerable work. She’d had to arrange for her absence from boarding school to go unnoticed, or at least, unremarked upon. If Lillian got wind of her running away, she’d have been skinned alive. Perhaps literally. Since her adoptive father’s death, she’d actually looked forward to school, and to being away from Lillian’s abuse. Lex was now the only thing keeping her from Lena, and Lex was preoccupied with his project.

Her brother had been away for school for some time, but they had summers off together at least. When Lex took over the company when he turned 21, he grew distant and aloof, spending more time with his friend Clark or at work than with family.

With his absence came Lillian.

Still, she had managed to build a support network. Frank, her bodyguard-slash-driver was Lex’s man, but he was useful. Lena had spent months buttering him up to participate in her plan: she needed wheels.

In the meantime she’d acquired blackmail material. The head master at the school gave her a broad latitude after she implied that she might expose certain proclivities of his. That gave her the time away she needed. She’d carefully negotiated a higher allowance from Lex in exchange for accelerating her studies in anticipation of beginning her undergraduate studies at sixteen, which was a triviality for her anyway.

Lena walked down the hall, heart pounding against the backpack clutched to her chest. Each step felt heavy, alive with portent.

She could turn back now. She could turn her back now.

What if she was wrong? Paranoid, addled, as crazy as her mother, just like Lillian said? What if she was about to not only blow up her whole life, but slander her brother. If this went sideways, she didn’t know what exactly would happened to her, but Lillian had once, while tipsy on whisky from Lionel’s stash, told Lena that if not for Lex, she’d have Lena garroted with piano wire and buried on the estate, and like any bag of trash, no one would notice she’d been disposed of.

When she told Lex, her hands shook like leaves. He looked at her for a long cold moment and she worried that he’d slap her or scream or throw her out of the house, but he simply said, “I’ll talk to her about it.”

He did. She never made another threat.

He also brought her a wooden box, ornate and polished. Lex sat next to Lena and opened the box, showing her the contents, lying on red velvet. A five shot snub nose revolver and two speedloaders.

“I’ll teach you how to use this,” Lex said, grimly. “I know you’re smart enough to know if you need to. If anyone tries to harm you, kill them. I’ll clean it up.”

Lena had been terrified of it for months, even as she enjoyed the shooting lessons from Lex, given in a remote part of the estate near a burbling creek, the shots cracking the morning peace and shaking dew from leaves.

She had the gun in her backpack, and her hands were shaking.

The other contents of her bag were a weapon far more devastating. She was about to fire it and she’d have to accept the consequences.

Finally, she stood outside the door. Apartment 18B. The name on the lease was Lois Lane, but according to Lena’s reconnaissance, Clark Kent had been living with her virtually full time for the last six months, not long after something changed in his relationship with Lena’s brother.

Lena’s hand hung before the door for a good minute before she knocked, weekly. She hadn’t considered what might happen if they were simply not home. Her legs felt watery and her eyes burned. She knocked again. She was committed now.

The door swung open and Lois Lane stood before her. She was beautiful in an understated way, obscured by limp hair in a chaotic bun, rumpled clothes, and the stink of coffee on her breath.

“Who- what? Kid, what do you want?”

“I need to see Clark Kent. Is he here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Lena Luthor.”

There was a gust of wind behind her, and Kent stepped into view.

“Lena?” said Clark. “Lex’s little sister? What are you doing here?”

Lena’s throat went tight. She swallowed hard, and as she anticipated, his demeanor changed. He softened. He craned forward slightly, studying her intently, and his brows shot up when looked at her bag.

He was checking her vital signs and he’d spotted the gun. In the bag.

“He knows you’re Superman,” Lena choked out, “and he’s going to kill you.”

Lois glanced at Clark with a stunned, stunned wide expression. Then, she grabbed Lena and yanked her inside, slamming the door. Lena squeaked.

“How do you know that? Lex knows? Did he tell you? What do you mean he wants to kill Clark?”

“Hey,” Clark said, crouching beside Lena to bring himself to her level, resting a comforting hand on her slight shoulder. “Take a breath, Lena. You’re safe here.”

In Lena’s plan, she was going to begin explaining, starting with how she deduced his identity and lay out what she discovered in his files. That was her plan, but no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Lena began to sob.

Superman knelt beside her and removed his glasses, and enveloped Lena Luthor in a warm, protective hug. She sobbed harder, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Lois whispered.

She drew the gun out of the bag and checked it with professional, practiced familiarity, dumping the shells into her hand.

“I think she’s telling the truth.”

Clark nodded.

Over the next hour, Lena was swept to Lois’s big couch and sat in the middle while the pair sat on either side of her. When she was hungry, Clark went out to get her favorite guilty pleasure meal, a big greasy burger and fries, and a milkshake too. Between bites, she explained everything, telling them about her brother’s insane plan to turn the sun red.

They believed it all. Lena had receipts.

Eventually, Lena was exhausted, everything had been said, and she sat with dull shock on the couch and stared at the black mirror of a blank television set, marveling at how small and helpless she looked, like a drowned rat.

“Why don’t you lay down for a while?” Lois said, gently. “Here, I’ll put something on the TV for you.”

Lena didn’t make it ten minutes in before she was asleep, curled tightly on one end of the couch with a pillow under her head.

She woke sometime later. It was dark now and she heard voices on the far side of the apartment.

“I called Bruce. He said he’s in, and he’s bringing reinforcements. I’m going to try to get a Green Lantern on board. We have to move fast. Nevermind me, if Lex does this, millions of innocent people will die. We’ll have to move fast.”

“What about the girl?” said Lois. “She can’t go home now. We have to get her somewhere safe.”

“I have to get you both somewhere safe. I should probably come up with a reason to get the building evacuated. One Lex realizes he’s been caught out, he’ll come after both of you.”

“You’re right.”

“I want you to go out,” said Clark. “Make it look like you’re heading out to a convenience store. Bruce is sending Alfred to pick you up, he should be here in an hour. I have somewhere else in mind for Lena.”

“Where?”

“It’s better if I don’t tell you, just in case.”

When he emerged from the back bedroom, Clark Kent was resplendent, clothed in the persona of Superman.

“Lena?” he said, gently. “We have to go. I’ll take you somewhere safe, where your brother won’t find you.”

Lois joined him. “You’re going to put on some of my clothes, and I’m going to check your hair. You can’t take anything with you. Lex Luthor might have been tracking you the entire time.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. What if she was right? That might be a move Lex would play, tracking Lena so that he could use her against his enemy. Lex had become cold, single minded. Lena was wondering how long it would be until she was disposable.

“Okay,” said Lena.

“I’m going to have to fly you.”

Lena did as she was told. She put on an outfit that belonged to Lois, a hilariously oversized Gotham U sweatshirt and leggings. When it was time, Superman bundled her up in his cape.

“I’m scared of heights.”

“I would never drop you,” he said.

Lena screamed when he took off. She was glad for the cape, glad she couldn’t see the ground. She curled up around him and pressed her eyes tightly closed, wondering exactly how fast they were going.

The landing came surprisingly fast. He’d alighted on the grassy lawn of a lovely beach house. Lena smelled something baking and heard voices inside. Clark knocked on the door.

A girl, a little older than Lena, opened the door. Golden curls spilled over her muscular shoulders, and she wore an oversized pair of glasses that did nothing to dull the endless depths of her blue eyes. There was something profoundly sad behind the curiosity in those eyes. She looked at Lena with mild confusion.

Lena stared back. There was a wild stirring in her stomach, and she shifted uneasily on her feet.

Then, the girl addressed Clark in a rapid, clipped, and utterly strange sounding language.

It hit Lena like a shockwave.

They were speaking Kryptonian.

“Lena,” said Superman, turning to her. “This is Kara Zor-El, my cousin. The last daughter of Krypton.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #runaway Lena #my headcanon is that Kara is older #teen supercorp romance #Lillian Luthor is a rancid bitch #teen Lena was adorkable #Kara has jock tendencies but is only jock adjacent #You can have a little butch Kara as a treat

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angel-of-the-moons · 4 months

Text

Desert Heat

Alpha!Cooper Howard x Fem!Omega!Reader

TW/CW: Smut, NSFW, Omegaverse AU, Chem usage, Chems, Heat cycles, Rough Sex, Sex-pollen, Dub-con, Dirty talk, Dacryphilia, Needy!Reader, Oral sex (m + f), Cumming untouched, Biting, Marking, Breeding kink, Knotting, Unprotected Sex, Creampie (Pack your RadAway, kids!)

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Blame @hydraliskisk for this one lmaoooo (And no, I still haven't seen the show... I can't find the time to sit down and relax enough to do it at home) Honestly? No idea what else to say, except I've never written Omegaverse stuff before this, so it was all new to me! This felt like a fever dream 😭 Enjoy this dumpster fire!

Taglist: @anna-n-hetfield

Cooper found himself grinding his teeth yet again, for the millionth time that day as he rooted about the ruins of the little rural neighborhood. He was on edge; his puckered and scarred skin itching beneath the surface, like the bad come-down from a fucked up chem.

He had another argument with you, his "lovely" little traveling companion; the third in the past two days. You had been getting increasingly temperamental. He had to guess you were going through withdrawal; your favorite particular tin case of "Fixer" was empty, so he assumed your newfound testiness was a result of that situation.

But Jesus fucking Christ, you were a bitchy little Beta, weren't you? Certainly had bite when you got pissed off. It'd be cute, if you weren't such a thorn in his side, at the moment.

He kicked over an empty wooden box, frowning at the long-since spoiled jars of preserved fruits and vegetables, his jaw working itself hard with a rough click.

He hoped your search was more fruitful than his own; your supplies were on the iffy side in terms of food and he knew that as a ghoul, he didn't need to eat as often as you did anymore. But you were still smooth and (as far as he knew) un-mutated, so all of your biological needs still needed to be tended to.

It was an irritating hassle, but he couldn't deny how scrappy and useful you were in terms of scavenging and watching his back so he could get sleep when he wanted it--thankful you were also a crack shot thanks to being born out here in the wastes.

Once again, his gloved hand scratched at his neck as he moved on to another house, ready to search for food, water, and Chems, if need be, too. Some Rad-X and RadAway were worth more than water to him, at this point...

You hated this.

Hate, hate, absolutely, unequivocally despised the situation you'd accidentally backed yourself into. You were hoping to keep your secret for as long as possible; but during your travels monitoring your Fixer stash had been almost an afterthought. You took one to one-and-a-half daily, carefully stretching your stash for as long as possible.

You knew your one-month pause in your doses was coming, and you were hoping to get away from Cooper long enough to take care of your problems on your own; but that wasn't feasible given how far out in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere you found yourselves in.

You had resisted the urge to hunker down as long as possible... But your instincts were firing on full-blast.

Your heat suppressants had worn off. And Cooper, unfortunately... Well. He was the only Alpha nearby, and you knew he'd figure it out at some point. You just didn't want him to find out so soon; all because of your shitty planning.

Your feet dragged through the rotting aisles of the small general store, barely paying attention and swiping whatever looked good enough to take into your satchel, some dented cans of unopened cram, a few preserved boxes of stale snack cakes...

You were so out of it, you hadn't even noticed how your hands had begun unwrapping the sweet morsels and eating through the meager rations you'd scrounged up. After swallowing the last cake you had unwrapped, you stuffed them into your bag and willed yourself to stop focusing on them and drank greedily from your canteen.

Fuck. You were already stuffing yourself. You knew what would inevitably come next...

You swallowed hard and returned to your task of scavenging; managing to find a box of .38 rounds, some cans of emergency ration water, and even a small stash of caps that you pocketed to divide later, when you were more in your right mind.

Your eyes, however, lit up when you spotted a cluster of prickly pear growing beneath a blown-out window, the fruit running in mixes ranging from green to mauve to a deep, almost bloody-purple shade. Perfect.

You slipped on your rawhide gloves to protect yourself from the thorns and glochids sticking out so menacingly from the skin of the fruit. As you twisted and plucked each treat from the source, you set each one down in a cracked ceramic bowl lying nearby. You'd need to run them over a flame to burn off the microscopic needles before you could skin and eat them; but right now you were only partially thinking about that.

A shimmer caught your eye, a flower growing at the base of the cactus. The petals were vibrant pink. It almost looked like a Venus flytrap, in the way the spindly, velvety tendrils opened and closed, the stalk expanding in a way that made you think the plant was almost breathing.

You tilted your head, your pre-heat daze almost forgotten as your attention was grabbed by this mutated, alien-looking plant. Despite everything else, even in regards to the thriving cactus it sprouted at the feet from... it was a bright and vibrant green as well, happily nourished in the dry earth within the ruined building. The bright splash of color mixed with the undulating petals were transfixing to your addled state.

Forgetting caution above all else, your fingers began to clasp around the stalk of one of the flowers to pluck it, to examine it closer. But as you did that, the flower had lurched in a way that looked like it was about to vomit.

You fell back onto your butt as it spat out a shimmery cloud of pollen into your face. It burned and tickled your nose as you inhaled, waving your hand in front of your face frantically to clear the air, sputtering and coughing around the choking dust as you wiped your eyes and face, looking at the thin chalky substance that was transferred onto your glove.

And, within the span of a few moments... it was like everything else just... didn't matter. Your goals of scavenging were tossed out of your mental window, your body's reaction like a wildfire in dry brush.

Your brain was buzzing, your instincts overriding your common sense as you stand up and walk away from the bowl of fruit. You raipped off your bag your bag and only half paid attention to the sound of the tin cans clattering and ammo tinkling as it spilled out, the weight of the leather strap had rapidly been becoming more and more uncomfortable, your clothes beginning to feel like sandpaper on your skin.

A bead of sweat trickled down between your shoulder blades, and you shuddered. Your eyes looked around almost frantically. You needed somewhere safe, your instincts screamed mercilessly.

And, by the grace of whatever kind of omniscient being that was up in the sky, you found a basement.

It looked like whoever owned the store had refitted it into some kind of shelter. Or, hell, maybe it was used by some scavver before you had traipsed along. Whatever it had been used for, you didn't care, it was yours now.

It had a bed, a couch, some more supplies half-assedly stacked on a rickety table... your eyes adjusted to the dark, the only source of light you had was the light bleeding from the open basement door, and the faintly glowing mushrooms that sprouted from the basement walls in thick clumps.

The logical part of your brain identified the fungi; you could use them to make RadAway with the supplies you had on hand. Another part of your logic had told you something crucial--that plant; whatevert it was, had spat out a cloud of pollen that had all but skipped your pre-heat, only just barely leaving your basic instincts to nest, and the overwhelming craving to be pinned down to the nearest surface and fucked until you were round with somebody's pups.

The rest of your mind was spiraling so quickly you felt like you were drunk; cramps rippling through your lower half impeded your progress as you ripped the threadbare blankets and cushions off of the couch, piling them on top of the mattress you'd tossed to the floor from the rusted metal frame it had been laid on, pushing them up into a corner that felt the most secure and least exposed, trying to make it as comfortable as possible.

Your clothes had become drenched with your sweat, the crotch of your pants and underwear all but ruined by your excess slick. You growled and grunted as you tugged them off, kicking the offending garments away and sighing in relief at the cool, damp air hitting your hot skin.

Another shudder rippled through you as you felt another wave of cramps hit your abdomen; your pussy fluttering with needy want, making you whine loudly as you pant, crawling back up the stairs to slap the door closed.

You needed to ride this out. Somehow.

The next few days were going to be hell.

Cooper clicked his tongue, spitting out the dry reed he'd begun chewing on as his boots kicked up dust, the rusty spurs tinkling with every step as he made his way to the last place you could possibly be--the ruined general store.

He had to admit, this little place would make a good settlement. He couldn't help but wonder why it hadn't been settled. The river that had--by a chance of dumb luck--kept flowing had allowed the land to grow a steady clump of greens and browns. Cacti and Joshua trees littered the area, more than a few large agave plants had overgrown the smaller walkways; their prickly limbs reaching out like the epicenter of a pale green explosion.

He chuckled at his mental comparisons. Ironic.

But he pushed that thought to the side; he had observed a small flower of some kind. A pair of lizards he'd planned to catch and eat had skittered up to it, drawn by the lure of fat insects buzzing around the flower for a nice meal for themselves.

He watched as one of the little critters had crept closer, preparing to lash its tongue out to snag one of the fat, fluttering bugs. But as it did, the flower lurched, belching a cloud of pollen at it that made the lizard hiss; thrashing briefly in the sand as its companion crawled over to examine its friend.

The male--oh, he was certain it was a male--lifted its head after a moment, the throat sack beneath his throat puffed up, turning a bright shade of red. A mating display, he realized.

Cooper had watched with slight interest; remembering, once-upon-a-time, of a nature documentary he'd watched with his daughter, Janey, of desert lizards. This sort of thing was the closest form of entertainment he had during his traveling, reminding him with a dull throb of nostalgia and grief at the life he had lost, before.

His thoughts were pulled back to the now, as he watched the male lizard chase his female companion around, until he assumed, he tackled her beneath a rocky crag somewhere to mate with her. He'd snorted, reminding himself to steer clear of those flowers.

Getting hot and horny could be a death sentence, out in the wasteland. You could be so caught up in the moment, you could get snuck up on and offed in the middle of the night; your supplies picked from your carcass by who-knows-who...

And he wasn't looking to have his card punched with his cock in hand. That just wasn't a good way to go out.

Cooper's dark eyes lifted up, clicking his tongue at the lilted sign of the shop, stepping over the bleached wood of the door that had long since rotted off its hinges.

The setting sun had put a damper in his plans. He'd wanted to find you and get out of the proverbial ghost town before the darkness had set in. Something about these old buildings had him uncomfortable.

His gloved finger snagged the collar of his faded shirt, tugging on it as he hissed out a heavy sigh. Why was it so fuckin' hot in here? The fuck smelled so... sweet?

His finger pulled the hammer back and his thumb flicked the cylinder release as he crept along the rotting shelves. He'd called out your name once. Upon receiving no answer, his brow furrowed.

"Darlin', now ain't the time to be playing in the dark." Cooper growled, his eyes scanning the shop for any signs of you.

In the setting sunlight, his eyes caught the glimmer of one of your buckles of your satchel. He quickly rushed over to where it had been tossed--maybe in some kind of tussle--and frowned. It was full of freshly scavenged supplies. Guns, ammo... your favorite chem tin.

As his eyes gave a passing scan to your empty tin, his gaze lifted to the cactus you'd been harvesting, the bowl of fruit laying untouched since you'd picked it.

What remained of his nose twitched; your scent was everywhere, tainted with the strangling-sweet smell clinging to the dust in the air. He couldn't pick up anybody else's around, so that ruled out you getting into a fight. So the question remained the same--where were you?

He holstered his pistol when he examined the cactus closer, frowning as the strange plant from before twitched and swayed on its own, lurching and grabbing flies that got too close to the petals of the flower. Cooper grunted, looking down to the dented metal tin still clutched in his hand.

His heart had almost skipped out of his chest as he finally bothered to examine the writing scrawled on the tin in proper detail; among your little scratches and scribbles was the name of the chem it contained.

It wasn't just regular Fixer. It was Heat-Fixer. A common variation of the chem that had been used even before the Great War to ward off an Omega's heat cycles as long as they took it regularly and in safe doses. He remembered once, being in Anchorage and it was revealed that one of his comrades in his unit was an Omega; he explained what exactly the Fixer did to his team over a lull in combat one night.

And you currently had an empty tin.

An empty tin of heat-supressants, coupled with the strange pollen of that flower... it wasn't a good combination for an Omega to be caught out in the middle of nowhere while in heat, not when someone could so easily stumble upon you and take advantage of your crazed and sex-hungry state.

No wonder you had been so snappy and irritable. No wonder you had been so anxious and ready to go to the next town, to hunker down there for a few days. He had assumed you were just being spoiled, wanting to pamper yourself somehow from the tough life on the road.

Now, he realized, you had been hoping to shut yourself in somewhere, to hide the mutated elephant you tried to smuggle into the room. Oh, yeah... he'd have a long talk with you once all this was over with.

"Fuckin' hell, darlin'." He muttered, shaking his head, his jaw clenched tight as he tossed it back into your bag, slinging it over his bandolier as he continued his search for you.

Your scent had him almost dizzy, he had even stumbled over his own feet once or twice as he looked for you. He knew Omegas had some strong instincts; he knew from experience you were going to look for somewhere safe to ride this out, to try and take care of yourself.

But on the off-chance something else had happened to you... Cooper had inwardly cursed at himself for being so worried. You were sometimes a little naive, believing in the best of the worst of people that had been a part of your tribal-turned-civilized home where he'd found you.

You had been an outcast even among your own tribe, most likely smothering your Omega nature by sneaking off under the guise of "scavenging" during your heats and the suppressants you were taking to mask it all.

Aside from finding out you were an Omega, not a Beta like you'd claimed, Cooper had felt a bit of kinship with you in how you were ostracized for how you were, maybe even a bit towards your naive hope that the best in humanity could one day resurface despite everything around you staring you in the face and screaming otherwise...

His mouth had become dry and he swallowed hard, his tongue practically choking him. It felt like he had a wad of cotton in his mouth despite the saliva that had begun to accumulate. The identity of your scent had finally dawned on him. The familiar, comforting scent of something akin to an apple pie; something he hadn't had in a very, very long time. And the idea he might be able to taste it again had consumed a part of his brain.

Your pheromones had all but tainted the stale air inside the small structure; if he still had any hair, it would have been standing on end as each drag of air coated his lungs in everything that was you.

Fuck, you smelled delicious. Good enough to eat.

Cooper gritted his teeth once more, briefly reaching down to press his palm into the rather pressing erection that had become prominently bulged in his old worn trousers. His own Alpha instincts had stirred; they had been almost dormant for so long, he'd almost forgotten them.

But right now, every one of his senses had picked up you. A sweet, perfect little Omega, writhing somewhere on your own and waiting to be bred. He shuddered at his train of thought; reminding himself that he was looking for you to make sure you were okay... to... to make sure you were safe, and to--what was he thinking, again?

Fuck. Right. He was going to find you, and stand guard around wherever you'd nested up and just wait for it to pass. Lecture you when it was over.

But as he crept along the ruined store, he had to stop and slump against a wall, his eyes rolling at the smell permeating the air, your pheromones flooding his bloodstream like the sweetest chem he'd had in a long, long time.

Cooper had managed to drag one foot after the other to find the basement door. Your scent rolled from the wood like the smoke to a powerful fire. You were down there, alright.

And against his better judgement, Cooper twisted the rust old knob and took the first step down, pulling out his old--and by-miracle still functioning--wind-up flashlight, he flicked the switch and walked down, his eyes tracking the glowing fungi that lined bits of the basement walls with a bit of giddy euphoria.

"Cooper..." He'd heard you croak out.

He spun on his heels, the beam of his light eventually turning onto you.

His heart had jumped up into his throat as he took you in; your frantically-made nest, the barriers you'd built between you and the rest of the room... the bare, sweaty skin that glistened in the torchlight he held in his hand.

He shook his head as another wave of your pheromones blasted him full-force. Fuck. What the hell had he been thinking? Oh. Right. He hadn't been thinking. He let his dick do the walking and find you, like some sex-crazed punk Alpha just coming into his nature.

"Cooper." You said again, your pupils blown so wide he almost couldn't see the color of your irises as you looked at him with your hooded gaze, your lips looking all to plush and swollen as you licked at them.

"Darlin', you..." He swallowed hard, his hard cock already bordering on painful, sweat beginning to soak through his shirt beneath his leather duster as his breathing increased.

"Help me. Please." You whined, sitting up more as you crawled over the nest of blankets towards him as your tongue ran over your teeth, your hips swaggering with each movement; reminding him of the scene in a shitty porno magazine he read as a younger man.

"Need something--"

"Shit. No." Cooper hissed, squeezing his eyes shut as he regained a semblance of some control over himself once again; backing up to the stairs, ready to rush back up them and lock you down here until this was all over.

When the stairs creaked under the weight of his first step, you whined, halting any more movement from him.

"Please." You panted, little whimpers bubbling through from between each syllable as you spoke, "Need help... goin' nuts... need you... please."

Cooper had stupidly snuck a glance at you, standing on your knees and leaning forward slightly in the middle of the dusty floor, one hand roughly groping at your own breast and the other snaking between your legs to roll your clit in time with the lazy thrusts of your hips. It was the sexiest goddamn thing he'd seen in his fucking life; a fresh rush of arousal making his cock throb.

"Help me." You whined, your eyes watery and needy as your gazes locked in the darkened space.

His eyes rolled back into his head and Cooper growled, his chest tightening at how you whined once more in submission to him. His feet stomped across the room, and he set his light down on the table enough to illuminate some of the room; namely you.

"Needy little fuckin' Omega," Cooper had spat as he ripped off his excessive bulk. Your bags joined his on the table, the contents scattering across the surface as his bandolier was tossed on top of it all alongside his guns.

"You been thinkin' about getting fucked all day, haven't ya?" He sneered as he tugged his gloves off with his teeth, dropping them as he moved back towards you.

You leaned into his touch as one of his hands cupped your cheek, eyes fluttering closed as he used his other hand plucked the buttons on the collar of his shirt free; his dark eyes taking in your soaked and aroused state as your hand between your legs continued to furiously rub and pinch at yourself for any stimulation--to ease that growing ache in your cunt.

The rough and scarred pad of his thumb swept a desperate tear from your cheek as he spoke; "A needy little bitch in heat, ain'tcha? Fuck, what if it wasn't me that came lookin' for ya?" His hand went from gentle to rough, squishing your cheeks between his fingers as he forced you to look up to him, his lips curling up into a snarl. "Bet at this point you'd go and bend over for any wasteland fuck coming along to bury their cock in you, probably fuck some pups into ya."

Your mouth opened in a breathy little moan, your eyes almost fluttering closed once again as he continued. "Well, fuck that. I ain't letting no fucking scavver take what's mine, got it?"

Your eyes immediately went to his crotch when his free hand roughly worked free his belt buckle, ripping his button open and fly down to free his throbbing cock to you, your mouth watering and your pussy flooding at the premise of him just burying himself inside of you and staying there.

"Now, given all the trouble you've been causin' me... I'm tempted to not give you my cock, got it?" He huffed, looking down at you from the remnants of the bridge of his nose, a sick sense of pride swelling his ego at how your eyes grew wide and panicked; like you were a junkie denied their next fix, so gone in withdrawal you thought you were going to die.

Cooper laughed at you as tears gathered in your eyes at his threat, your pretty little lip wobbling. He could almost hear your heart pound in the sweet little chest of yours. He squished your cheeks once again to snap you out of it, groaning as his hand gripped the base of his cock. "But you've got me in a bit of a state, babydoll." He drawled. "So..."

He tapped the tip of his scarred and gnarled cock to your lips, and grunted when you immediately curled your tongue underneath the tip, sucking him past your plush lips with a loud and grateful moan.

"...you're gonna suck me reeeal good... and maybe, if you're a good girl, you'll get it all, got it?"

You moaned again as you took him deeper, your tongue curling around his shaft as your head moved further down his length, gagging around him as you try to take too much too quickly.

Cooper fisted your hair and yanked you back, his gravelly voice tumbling out of him as he looked down at you, a warning in his eyes. "Don't push yourself, cupcake. Take what you can. I'd hate for you to choke on my cock before I've had a chance to fuck you with it."

You nodded drunkenly, immediately moving to take him into the wet cavern of your mouth once again with loud slurping sounds as you bobbed your head, your fingers rolling your clit in time with the bob of your head and the cant of your hips. Cooper ran his fingers through your hair, petting you as he watches you return to your task with feverish need.

"That's it, babydoll... fuck. You been thinkin' about this for some time, huh? Havin' somebody let you take their cock in your mouth?" He laughed, his voice going tight as you moaned in reply.

"Shit--that's it! Fuck..."

Cooper's heart was pounding in his chest as he feels your tongue swirl the tip of his cock. It had been too damn long since he'd had a good fuck; and you were proving to be a goddamn amazing one, so far, if your tongue skills were anything to go by. His hands gripped the back of your head and he started to arch his back, fucking his cock into your mouth with a loud, pleasured sigh. He wasn't going to last long, and he had disregarded his earlier warnings of taking it too quickly as the haze of his building orgasm began to swell as he began to use your mouth for his own pleasure. Not that you minded.

The moment he felt his cock twitch, he grunted, his eyes rolling back.

"Shit, darlin'... get ready."

You whined around his cock, your cunt gushing around your fingers as you plunged them inside, your lashes brushing your cheeks as you eagerly try to taste every drop he was willing to give you.

The first splash on your tongue had you a moaning mess, arousal burning low in your belly and a bubble that had been swelling was ready to burst. Cooper yanked you back by the hair again and gripped his cock, jerking furiously as each hot volley of thick cum coated your face, splashing on your tongue as it lolled out of your mouth; dripping down your chin and onto your breasts.

Cooper chuckled grimly, "Well... that's one way to mark that prettly lil' body of yours."

He quickly swiped his cum off of your face, earning a complaining whine from you until he crammed his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck them clean; tasting him mixed with the dirt, grime, and gunpowder that clung to his skin. His eyes flashed dangerously as he watched you spasm slightly, eyes rolling back; his taste, the sensations he was pushing on your and the sheer forcefulness of his actions making you climax as you moaned around his hand that was all but choking you.

"Look't you. So fuckin' cockdrunk you can't even fuckin' talk." He mocked playfully, pulling his fingers from your lips with a loud pop.

Cooper kneeled down in front of you and grinned, his teeth flashing that signature smile of his as he practically lunged for you; hoisting you over his shoulder and slapping a palm over your ass, fingers dipping into your sweet cunt to toy with the juices that dribbled down your thighs, making you moan obscenely.

He dropped to his knees and rolled you down onto the nest you'd made in the corner, watching with his grin; twisting his scarred face in a look of aroused glee as you laid back and spread your legs for him, showcasing just how badly you needed him.

"Damn, darlin'... got yourself lookin' like a nice glazed snack, for me." He chuckled, beginning to shrug his shirt the rest of the way off, working his pants down his legs as he blindly kicked his shoes off in the dark. "Makes me wanna fuckin' eat ya right up..."

He tipped his head to the side, one of his hands grabbing his hat and tossing it off somewhere out of sight as he exposed more and more of himself to your hungry eyes. "Actually... that ain't a bad idea, heh."

Your hips rolled and you spread your puffy and swollen lips apart for him with a mewl as he lowered himself down onto his belly and elbows, looking up at you with a glimmer in his eyes.

"Now, I ain't gonna just give it to ya, sweetheart... you gotta tell me. Ask me nice."

"Please. Cooper. Please." You pant. "Please, please, please, please please--"

"Now, now..." Cooper warned, reaching up to slap his fingers onto your clit and watching your body jump at the contact. "That's not what I meant."

Your brows furrow down at him, swallowing the saliva that accumulated in your mouth as your brain tries to process what he meant through the red fog your mind was clouded with.

Finally, it clicks.

"Cooper, please..." You mewl loudly. "A-Alpha, please--"

The sound that comes from him makes your mind blank and your body shudder, going almost slack with relief as his lips closed around your weeping cunt, babbling "thank you's" and frantic, almost incoherent words as he gave you a taste of what you'd been craving.

You were veeeery happy it was Cooper that found you. Right now you couldn't imagine anyone else to have between your legs, drinking you down like you were his first taste of water after being stranded in the desert.

Cooper had laid there for... he didn't even know how long. Tasting you, edging you, biting and nipping your inner thighs, making you cum to the point you felt like you had gone blind had his chest swell with pride and... something else. More than just plain sexual attraction, more than the fact that you were and Omega accepting him as your Alpha right now...

He didn't focus on that too long, shoving those feelings to the back of his mind as he rose to his knees, yanking your quivering hips close to him, his cock slapping your belly as he stared down at you.

"Gonna fuck you now, darlin'. Give you every fuckin' inch of what you've been wanting." Cooper hissed, rolling his cock through your slick folds with a lazy thrust. Your hands reach out to grab at his arms, frantic and wanting as you nodded dumbly, mindlessly.

"Please, please--yes, yes, yes--"

"Easy, now." Cooper chuckled, his voice almost dropping into fondness as his hands gripped and squished your thighs. "Just lay back and let me fuck you like y'need, alright, baby?"

You keen lowly, dropping your head onto one of the pillows as you feel the tip of his cock notch at your waiting hole, your pussy clenching as he pushed in; his pace torturously slow as he sunk himself within your welcoming, tight and wet heat.

He tipped his head back with a pleasured sigh, his voice shaky, as he savored the ecstasy of your body; "Jesus fuck, you feel so damn good... fit me like a glove, sweetheart."

"Fuck me." You mewled, frantically grabbing at whatever bits of him you could to try and urge him on, your legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the back of his thighs as you try to encourage him deeper.

Cooper growled at you, leaning down to press his mouth to your ear; "You don't tell me what to fuckin' do. Right now, I'm gonna fuck you so full you're gonna feel like yer gonna pop. Got it? Don't get bossy on me, y'hear?"

You curled around him, clinging to him desperately. "Sorry. Sorry, sorry..." You cried softly. "J-Just n-need... Need you, please..."

"I was just teasin' ya, sweetheart..." Cooper sighed with a chuckle, pulling out halfway before sharply thrusting back in, your breasts jiggling as your body jerks with the effort of his thrust. "Don't be such a crybaby."

Your jaw snaps shut with a strangled moan, your teeth grinding as your body welcomes him eagerly, all the stress and anxiety of your heat melting away in the pleasure that Cooper was bullying into your cunt, sloppy, loud, lewd noises coming from between you as he plunged his cock in and out of you; his skin slapping against yours.

A small part of you right now was vaguely recalling your past heats. How you would scurry away when you couldn't make your Heat-Fixer on your own, or score any from passing caravans; how you would hide in your secret little cave and masturbate to thoughts of having someone just come and take the edge off for you, you just bend you over and fuck you until your mind didn't come back into logical focus for days after the fact--to fuck you so full you were certain "your" Alpha had bred you as your biological needs shouted that you needed.

Your nails dig into Cooper's back, scratching fresh masks into his pitted and wrinkled skin, the texture of his cock making your head spin even more as you breathed in his own pheromones; Cooper's scent had always comforted you. Somehow, the scent that was not unique in the world today felt unique to him, and only him. Gunpowder, petrichor, and sweet honey bourbon.

You didn't realize just how much you loved and craved to have his scent on you until now; a loud moan slithering out of you as he dragged his tongue up your throat, mouthing your swollen scent gland messily, making your hips stutter against his and your breath hitch into a small sob as his tongue laves over the soft flesh.

"Smell so fuckin' good." Cooper growls, his voice sending vibrations through your sensitive skin as he continues to rut his cock into you. The pitch of his tone makes you whimper in submission, rolling your head to the side to let him have better access as he licked and kissed your throat, moving from one side to the other.

"Fuck--" He panted, driving his hips into your again and again, the sweat on your body making it difficult to get a decent grip on your soft hips. Your scent was driving him insane; he was finding himself wanting to keep his face buried either at your throat or between your legs. If he wasn't so pressed to just fuck you, Cooper would have gladly stayed with his head buried between your legs until he got his fill of you.

However, now that he's had a taste of you, now that he's felt you squeezing and milking his dick for anything he was willing to give you... he wasn't sure he would ever get a fill. Your scent was goddamn maddening to him; it made him hungry in more ways than one. He never realized it before, but now that you were uninhibited by the Fixer, it hit him full-force. And just the mere thought of another Alpha putting their hands on you made him mad with... possession?

He swallowed back a mouthful of saliva, clenching his jaw as he panted hotly in your ear, "Feel so fuckin' good around my cock, babydoll."

You choked for air when you feel his knot almost catch, your orgasm dancing just out of reach; walls clenching around him every time you felt it press against your entrance.

"Please, please..." You begged, running your hand up his back, tracing every deep groove and bit of scarred flesh you could; mapping out every inch you could feel beneath your fingertips.

"N-Need..."

One of his arms was currently bracing himself next to your head, which his other hand pawed at your hip, gripping the sweaty, smooth skin so tight there would likely be bruises in the shape of his handprint that would be visible for days on.

His mouth once again hovered over your scent gland, and you pressed one of your hands to the back of his neck to urge you on; "Please..." You begged once more.

Cooper gave you a look out of the corner of his eye, and as you opened your mouth to plead with him once more, he sunk his teeth directly into your throat. Your moan was so loud, he could almost hear the rush of his blood beneath it as the coppery taste of your blood coated his tongue.

"Fuck!" You sob, grinding your hips against his, your spongy walls throbbing almost painfully as you finally feel him force his knot past that last barrier of resistance; feeling it swell and lock him in place, the sensation finally ripping a mind-numbing orgasm from you.

"Shit, darlin'..." Cooper moaned, breaking his lips from around your scent gland, rutting and grinding into you as much as he could, feeling the simmering heat of his own orgasm finally creeping near that precipice. "Squeezin' me so fuckin' good..."

He leaned back, grabbing your hips in his hands and pulling you against him, staring down at your sweaty and flushed face as your eyes rolled back, your hands clawing desperately at the mattress and ratty blankets beneath you, weakly lifting your hips to try to get him to keep moving.

"Needy little... fuckin'..." Cooper panted, feeling how hard your hot pussy was clenching around his knot. It felt like he was burning up from the inside out, like his blood was boiling inside his veins as his orgasm roiled and crashed through him; hips jerking against yours as his cock twitched, emptying every drop of cum he could fill you with into your waiting and desperate womb.

He ground his teeth as his eyes rolled back and he let the last bits of his climax ebb away.

Cooper let out a long, slow breath, poking down to where your bodies were locked together. Damn, that felt good. It was the best feeling he'd felt in... shit, a very long time. He sighed and pressed his hand down low on your belly, just barely able to feel the outline of himself through your soft skin, muscles and fat.

His gaze slowly slid up your sweaty and twitching body, to the fresh mark he'd left in your throat, and finally to your blissed-out, satisfied face. He knew this state for you was only temporary; once his knot went down, you would be climbing back on top of him for more, wanting to be fucked and bred again and again, despite the face he was 100% positive in the fact that ghouls didn't work like that anymore... But nonetheless you'd be wanting your Alpha to mark you and fuck you again and again until your heat passed you by.

He narrowed his eyes at his own line of thinking. He... wasn't really "your" Alpha now, was he? You were partners, and well, now...

Ah. Shit...

"You alive, darlin'?" Cooper chuckled, pushing aside his line of thinking, to try and focus on the moment instead of his stupid what-ifs.

"Mhmmm..." You answered with a purr, arching you back and stretching, wrapping your legs around his waist once again, opening your stormy eyes to peer up at him, your tongue swiping out at your bottom lip.

"Shit... Give me some time to pull out, you needy little bitch." He chastised with another soft laugh, reaching out to tweak your nipple in reprimand.

Cooper leaned over you, pressing his thumb over your clit, earning a soft whine from you.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me, ain't'cha, babydoll?" He sighed, looking as your face twisted in pleasured agony while he pinched and rolled your clit, feeling how your cunt fluttered around his cock. "C'mon... Answer your Alpha, sweetheart..."

Your eyelids dragged lazily open and you nod, almost jerking your head up and down as a small bit of drool pools at the corner of your swollen lips. "Yes, yes, yes... I'll be a good girl."

Cooper grinned wider, almost predatory in appearance, still tasting you on the tip of his tongue.

"Thaaaaat's right... Now... just lay back and let me take care of ya, babydoll. And once we're done, you 'n I are gonna have a long talk..."

#Cooper Howard #Cooper Howard x Reader #Cooper Howard x you #The ghoul #The ghoul x you #The ghoul x Reader #Omegaverse AU #Omegaverse #Fallout #Fallout on prime #Fallout prime #fallout tv show

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margowritesthings · 1 year

Text

A Job Well Done

pairing: Arthur Morgan x reader (f) word count: 4944 words warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, oral (f giving), rough oral, a little choking, a touch of voyeurism, explicit language, it's pretty much a blowjob fic authors note: idk what to say... this started as a little drabble because me and my fiancé love having a little smoke together at night and.... well, here we are I guess?? i hope you enjoy you lovely lot, and if you've asked to be tagged and you're not please let me know!! I have a new system for keeping track of my taglist and I may have lost some requests in the transfer

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i *if i've missed you please let me know!!!*

You pull Arthur’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, settling into the old wooden chair while it creaks beneath you. Thanks to being in the middle of the Lemoyne swamps, it isn’t too cold despite the moon hanging so high in the sky above you, the jacket is more for comfort. From where you sit, you can see near the whole camp, watching lanterns flicker off incrementally as each member of your makeshift family retires for the night. A few of the boys stay up, drinking by the fire, their voices muffled and distant in the thick air.

It’s been a week to the day since you last saw Arthur, before he left to track a rather sizable bounty down and attempt to cushion out the camp funds, and God do you miss him. The days feel so much longer, nights so lonely you’ve considered saddling up and finding the bastard yourself just to bring him home sooner. Comfort can be found, though, in the ways Arthur’s presence has bled so deeply into your life that his physical being doesn’t even need to be here.

His smell lingers on the jacket he left (the one he wore every day before he had to leave just so you could wear it when you missed him), that perfect mix of tobacco and whiskey and something so ineffably Arthur that you soak up every time you wrap it around your frame.

He’s there in the routines you've built your lives around, intertwined as they are, the ones you can’t shake even if he’s not beside you. The cup of coffee in a morning, his so much better tasting than yours but you try anyway. The first morning after he left, you made two, ending up giving the extra to a very grateful Abigail to save face.

There’s a nightly routine, too. The one where you get ready for bed, then climb through the window to meet him on your balcony. He’s always there waiting with a cigarette hanging from his lips, patting his lap ready for you to crawl on. He’ll drag a match across his boot, (or sometimes the bottom of yours, if you’re still wearing them) lighting up the smoke before handing it to you. You’ll pass it between each other, catching up on your days, limbs entangled just how they should be as you watch Shady Belle fall asleep around you.

Without him, those routines bring you comfort, grasping onto the remnants of your cowboy until his safe return. That’s why you’re sitting in this spot, pulling a cigar out of the little tin stash box Arthur left behind. Normally it’s just a cigarette, you could never survive a cigar a night and have the throat to tell the tale, but there’s something inexplicably Arthur about this brand of smokes, something you’re seeking tonight.

You pluck a match from the tin, striking it against the table beside you, never having gotten the knack of igniting the thing on your boot as effortlessly as Arthur does, and light the cigar between your lips. The all-familiar woody essence dances across your tongue, your tired muscles relaxing from the first few tokes.

It’s just you, the moon and the crickets as you sit on the balcony, Arthur’s smoke between your lips. You wonder what he’s doing. He should be sleeping, but knowing him he’s probably up planning, or doing exactly what you are right now. You pray he’s safe, hasn’t been gotten by the law or worse, gotten himself killed. You can’t let yourself even think about that, the very idea bringing a tremble to your limbs. To combat the sudden spike in anxiety, the next time you bring the cigar to your lips you drag in just that bit more smoke, letting it soak down your spine. Not nearly as experienced in smoking as Arthur, you cough a little, but you recover much quicker than you used to.

Memories of that first time, of Arthur offering you the little brown stick and you nervously nodding, bring a little smile to your face. Oh, how you spluttered, Arthur giving you his drink on instinct, only realising that the whiskey burn would do the opposite of help once it was too late. You’d have been in your right mind to be embarrassed as hell, but by the way he chuckled as he rubbed circles around your back told you that he found it nothing but adorable.

You sit there for a few minutes, basking in the precious peace so seldom found nowadays and taking a drag every now and then, the smoke riding a sigh from your lips. Your eyes slip closed, trying to shut off as many senses as you can to really connect with that smell and taste, imagining him emerging from your bedroom window to be here with you.

He’s much less graceful than you are, often catching some part of his person on the windowsill when he climbs out onto the balcony. So many nights spent patching up little holes in his pant legs, right where that out sticking nail used to be in the frame before he ‘bested it in combat’ (i.e. pulled it out with a hunting knife and threw it ceremoniously in the lake).

Manifestation is a powerful tool, you’ve always believed that, but you still nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a large hand grasp your shoulder just as you imagined, Arthur’s gruff, hushed whisper tickling the words “hey, sweetheart” into the skin of your neck. It takes you a second to catch your breath, heart racing from the shock before everything registers and reality sets in.

“Arthur?”

He’s here.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You fly out of your seat, the rickety old thing nearly splintering under the force, launching yourself into his open arms to burrow yourself into him. Every part of him consumes your senses and you drink it all in like an addict. The smell, the real thing, much more of that Arthur essence than the whiskey or cigars, probably because he forewent breaks in his journey for those little pleasures to get back to you sooner.

He seems to be taking you in as much as you are him, inhaling long through his nose and sighing it out contentedly, feeling whole again after so long without you in his arms.

“I missed ya’, beautiful.” He says softly into your hair, holding you tight against him, his knuckles brushing up and down the small of your back through layers of clothes you’ve stolen from him.

“I missed you so much…” You mumble into his shirt, hardly able to breathe through the wall of hard chest muscle you’re pressed against, caring even less.

It’s only then do you remember the cigar, forgotten and abandoned, smoking away on the table propped up on a jar lid turned makeshift ashtray. Most of the boys don’t bother with one, and neither did Arthur, until a fateful night a few months before you started dating when you first handed him the jar and told him you read something about birds and rabbits eating the butts of cigarettes. He kept the little piece of junk right next to his bedside, waiting for you to find it after that first night together.

Arthur spots your momentary pull of attention, pulling his chest away to raise a brow down at you with a little chuckle rumbling his chest.

“Having a fancy smoke of a night, are we?”

A cheeky little smirk- Arthur’s favourite, actually- tugs at the corner of your lips, waiting patiently for him to kiss it away.

“The smell reminds me of you…” you play coy, earring yourself that kiss when Arthur lifts you up to his height, kissing you softly, letting his world and yours fall back into place together.

“Well I’m here now, angel. Wanna sit? Could do with a nice cigar with my girl to celebrate a job well done.”

You’re eager to nod, heart fluttering at the prospect of getting to sit with him and hear all about his trip. He untangles from you to sit down first, patting his lap for you to crawl into. You fit perfectly together (you should do, you were made for eachother), head resting on his shoulder, legs splayed over his thighs with your arm draped over his shoulder. The cigar has gone out, so Arthur strikes a match so expertly on his spurs before shaking it out and placing his hand on the small of your back for support. You lean into him, watching him take puffs of the cigar and feeling the tiniest bit of tension leave his joints. He looks so natural with a smoke between his teeth, commanding an air of power with each movement he makes. Smoking doesn’t suit just everyone, you think, but God, does it suit him.

“We’re celebrating? You got the bastard, then?”

“Sure did,” he says, smoke spilling from his lips with each syllable. Arthur looks you over again, drinking in the dearly missed view, before kissing you on the forehead and flipping the cigar between his fingers to offer it up, “Eventually found him up in Fort Brennand, but he weren’t alone. Nearly lost a damn eye, but luckily only Woffard had to be brought in alive, so I dropped the other bastards and ran.”

You hang on his every word, your hero. You know he’s downplaying the fight, the danger of it all, but he does it so that you don’t worry every time he’s gone. It never works, and you always do, but you love him for trying.

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so glad you’re alright…” You coo, pressing a hand to his cheek, feeling the weeks worth of stubble scratching against your palm. He nuzzles into your touch, not unlike a cat, and your find yourself keeping your hand there to mindlessly play with his hair, tipping his hat off to put on your own head. He chuckles, reaching to adjust it on you.

“Course I am, couldn’t leave you here all alone with this buncha’ fools, could I? Besides, someones gotta bring home the bacon around here, and you know Marston’s too trigger happy to bring a bounty in alive.”

“So you got the full price?” Your eyes gleam, the proudest smile on your features as Arthur nods and shifts both your weights for a moment to pull out a stack of bills and smack them on the table dramatically.

“You’re damn straight I did, baby.”

Of course he did. Arthur never fails, and God knows how much the camp needs this right now, freedoms diminishing by the day as Dutch makes more enemies and plans jobs that just seem to keep going wrong. But you don’t want to think about that right now. Right now, there is only you and Arthur, and the promise of a whole night spent with him uninterrupted. You hand him the cigar back, along with a stolen kiss, and he takes another mesmerising drag. The way he holds it, every so often tipping the ash into the first gift you ever gave him, it does things to you that you just can’t explain. It’s just a cigar, and yet you’re pressing your thighs together tight to futilely subdue the tightness coiling between them.

“I’m so proud of you… I always am.” Unkempt locks of hair are twisted between your fingers, your face so close to Arthur’s you can pepper his cheek, temple and lips, whenever not occupied, with little kisses, Arthur’s hat sometimes tipping up against his forehead on your head. The two of you are always like this after a few days apart, unable to get enough of each other or keep your hands off one another. You shift your weight to access him better, catching his bottom lip between your teeth to press a long, tender kiss there. He hums under you, hand splaying under your jacket to grasp at your shirt. It’s seconds before you feel it, that hardening that nudges up against your thigh, prodding and reminding you just how much Arthur has missed you.

You pull away from the kiss, just enough to raise a teasing brow at how sensitive your cowboy is to your touch. He shrugs, unashamed, with that cheeky grin and those glistening eyes directed right at you.

“What? I missed ya…” His words are accompanied with a pinch of your ass, which makes you writhe on top of his stiffness, the friction dragging a low growl from deep within his chest.

“I can see that, cowboy… I missed you too. I missed you more.” You emphasise, nipping at his lip again and splaying your fingers across his chest. He rises to your touch, and you feel him stiffen more so under you. It takes a second of manoeuvring, but you’re soon straddling him, hovering above him like the angel he sees you to be. From this angle, with the moon behind you, you’re glowing.

“You absolutely did not, you little siren…” He growls again, pulling at the flesh of your ass so that you’re grinding against him, the friction of denim against denim igniting you both and burning so wonderfully.

“Oh, yeah? I can prove it.” There’s a little cock of your head, a raise of one teasing brow as you start to slide off him. He looks confused, disappointed, even, until your knees rest on the planks of wood on the balcony floor and he instinctively spreads his legs to give you the space between them. Your fingers splay across his thick thighs, and they tense under your touch, as does Arthur’s jaw. He’s starved after a week without you, clearly trying to reign in a control he’s struggling to possess. There’s no wonder, having his girl knelt before him like this.

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” He growls out, abandoning the still smoking cigar in the jar lid. You look up at him, peeking out from under the rim of his hat.

“No.” You reach for the cigar, taking a few drags yourself before flipping it in your fingers just like he did and placing it between his teeth, “Finish your smoke.”

A distant laugh captures Arthur’s attention for a second, reminding you both just how close you are to the other gang members. You’re somewhat hidden by the railing, but if they looked in your direction, Arthur is fully visible from the chest up. A simple bob of your head- and you’re planning on plenty- would bring you into view.

The look Arthur gives you when he quickly diverts his attention back from Marston and the others is downright feral, especially when your hands reach for his belt buckle. Nimble fingers make quick word of the obstruction, and you’re soon pulling Arthur’s thick, long length out from his jeans. He groans at your very touch, involuntarily bucking his hips up into your hand.

You laugh, the sound a tempting little giggle as you tell him “Patience, cowboy…”

He almost snarls in response, clearly having been goddamn patient enough over the last week where all he could do is fuck himself with your name on his lips and the thought of you knelt just like this between his legs at the forefront of his mind, always.

Just as you lean in, when your soft lips trace over his rosy, swollen head, he pulls you back by plucking his hat from atop your head and throwing it to the side. He rests the cigar between the fingers of his free hand to free his mouth to speak to you.

“Need to see you while I fuck that pretty little moutha’ yours, angel…”

His words soak through you (and soak you through), and you just can’t wait a second longer, needy to have his cock deep down your throat, desperate for the burning of your lungs and the stinging in your eyes when he loses that control he so often vehemently clings to.

Unable to wait a second longer, you run your tongue from base to tip, feeling every vein pulsing under your muscle and eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. When you finally take him in your mouth, his hand reaches to cup your cheek, following you down as you take as much of him as you can.

“Fuck.” He groans, fingers reaching to tangle in your hair, scratching at your scalp. He’s probably louder than he should be, your eyes flickering to the general direction of the others as a warning, but they soon snap back to your cowboy, an intense eye contact burning at your skin as the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. Arthur never takes his eyes off you, guiding you up and down his length and bringing the smoke to his lips. The tip of the cigar flares a deep, fiery orange, and smoke billows from his mouth with each laboured breath you coax from him. The way he’s sitting, fingers of one hand pulling at your hair, controlling your movements, and the other limply holding the smoke, he exudes a power many seek to master but never quite get. It makes your heart swell and your cunt throb for him, knowing on your knees before him is the only place you ever want to be, knowing only you inhabit it.

You can taste Arthur, his salty essence leaking from the pure ecstasy you’re providing and spit pools in your throat, mixing with it and dribbling down your chin. Arthur catches it with his thumb, guiding you off his cock to push the digit into your mouth and let you suckle from it. You do, hungrily, adjusting on your knees to better take Arthur deep down your throat and-

“Arthur! That you?”

Marston.

For eyes widen at each other, Arthur instinctively pushing you a little lower by your shoulder to keep you out of sight. John hasn’t seen you, and you’d like to keep it that way, being in the incriminating position you are between Arthur’s legs.

You spot the irritated sigh, the twitch of Arthur’s jaw as he plasters a fake friendliness onto his features and peers over the balcony to see his brother standing on the clearing below.

“Sure is. Whatchu’ want?”

Straight to the point.

“We didn’t hear you get back. How long’ve you been here?”

All that tension you’ve worked so hard to dissipate comes back to Arthur’s form with a crashing force. You can almost hear his plea for just one second a’ goddamn peace, merely by the way he sighs before answering.

“Not long, thought I’d try and sneak past you fools and get some shut eye.”

Subtle, cowboy.

Ever oblivious, or simply not caring, John continues, “How’d it go, then? You got the bastard?”

He has you pressed against his thigh to hide you from sight, cock standing to attention right beside your face. It’s too tempting, especially with a none the wiser Marston stood right below. When your tongue darts out, hovering above Arthur’s twitching, aching cock, his eyes flick down to you, warning residing deep in his eyes. You take it as less of a warning, more a challenge.

You wouldn’t.

Oh, but I would.

And you do. You lift up, just enough to fit the head of his throbbing cock past your lips and slide the whole length in. It bumps the back of your throat, but upon hearing Arthur’s strangled, poorly hidden groan, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

“Y-uh… Yeah, I got ‘em…”

It’s impressive, how he can just about hold a conversation despite his cock being so far down your throat his balls rest on your chin.

You can’t see John, but you can only imagine how his head must tilt and his brows must pull together at the strange response from Arthur.

“You alright, brother?”

He won’t be.

You blink up at Arthur, feigning an innocent, near angelic expression as you inhale through your nose and push him even further into you. You hum, low and quiet, letting the vibrations pass through him. Arthur whimpers, instantly knocking any and all sounds you’ve ever heard from top spot and replacing them as your favourite in the whole world.

“I-I’m fine. Just tired.” He tries to hint again, to no avail. His fingers are digging into your shoulder with a bruising force, that control slipping bit by bit with every passing second, every little movement. Tears prick at your eyes, that burning in your lungs you’ve been reaching for finally igniting. You’re stuffed with him, feeling so full that it’s hard to breathe. When you go to release him, to be able to gasp for precious air, you realise you can’t, Arthur’s huge hand holding you right in place with his palm flush against the back of your neck. Revenge.

“Where’s the Mrs?”

A raise of a brow. You’re not married, but everything is so naturally right between you and Arthur that the gang just seem to have defaulted to that. It makes you beam, wanting nothing more than to be this man’s wife, the kind of wife that makes him cum down your throat while he has a menial conversation.

“S-She’s- fuck…” When he grips harder at you, you gag around his length, tears now streaming down your cheeks and mixing with your spittle and the little bits of precum that leak out from Arthur. “She’s in bed. I-I better go check on her, a-actually.” He whimpers again, fingers now gripping into your hair to keep you in place. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, struggling to breathe, overflowing and, God, so wet for him.

John sounds unconvinced. You’d giggle, if you could.

“Alright… Well, g’night, brother.”

Arthur barely manages a grunt, and you can feel his thighs tensing and twitching from the sheer effort of not bucking his hips up into you and giving the pair of you away. He stills, most likely waiting for Marston to fuck off already, before he rips you away from him and pulls you to your feet, gripping your aching jaw with force enough force to keep it open.

“You goddamn siren.” He isn’t mad. He’s trying to be, but you know Arthur far too well, and he’s burning with a fire far hotter than mere anger. Need.

The mischievous glint in your eye is all you can offer for response, what with his iron grip on your face, but you do manage to slip your tongue out and lick the pad of his thumb, tasting the mixture of fluids still lingering.

It’s all getting too much, knowing what you just did and who you did it around, hearing Arthur unable to string a sentence together because of you. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so desperate for a release that you’re pathetically writhing in Arthur’s hold. He notices, forced anger on his features replaced with a cockiness that only comes from knowing he’s regaining the power in the situation.

Your cheeks tingle when he releases you, sitting back in the seat and leaning back, one elbow resting on the arm of the old wooden chair and picking the cigar back up. God, you could ride him in that chair till morning, if you thought the wood wouldn’t splinter under the force.

“You gonna finish what you started, my little siren?” He asks, taking an especially long toke from the smoke while he waits for you to drop to your knees before him. Your cunt throbs, screaming out for his attention, but it would seem your antics have earned you punishment.

Your knees hit the wood with a force, though an involuntary whimper escapes you, hips grinding pathetically against nothing. Arthur notices, smirking like a goddamn cheshire cat at his little wanton whore.

“Patience, angel.” Your own words echo back to you like a slap in the face. You definitely deserve this.

The grip you had on the power in this game you’re playing with Arthur officially disappears when his hand snakes around the back of your neck, grasping at your hair and winding it around his wrist like a leash. You have to tilt your head so the tugging at your scalp is a mere burn rather than a sharp pain, but that’s just where he wants you.

“Now, little siren, I’m gonna teach ya’ some manners, and you’re gonna finish what you started, alright? And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll think about getting that sweet little cunt of yours off…”

It’s all it takes, the promise of Arthur’s fingers deep inside you while he sucks on your clit just how you like it, lapping up your juices like a man starved, and the defiance in your eyes dissipates. Arthur bends you to his whim, messy, sloppy putty in his hands as he drags you onto his weeping cock. You’re all but drooling for him, leaking out of the corners of your mouth when he slips into you. Your scalp tingles with the pull, especially when Arthur involuntarily tightens his grip with a hiss of his breath. His tip bumps the back of your throat, but he doesn’t stop even when you’ve fit all of him in that you can.

“Fuck, good girl, just like that baby girl…” he groans, and when you open your eyes to look up to him, he is watching you with a gaze so intense you feel like it could tear you apart. The tension burns between you, coiling so tight the chirp of a nearby cricket could snap it.

There’s an unspoken question in your eyes when you start to nearly choke on his length of when you’ll be released, but his eyes darken, “Come on, baby, you can take more, can’t you?”

He seems to register your fear, but it phases him little. It seems more a challenge, really, coaxing him into rocking his hips into you, pushing you even further onto his cock until you feel it start to breach past your throat in a way you didn’t even know possible. You splutter, wriggling and writhing as you try your hardest to breathe through your nose.

“Shh… good girl,” he coos, a ravenous look taking over your usually so lovable cowboy. You’ve pushed him, and God do you live for it. “Not much further… wanna see you take all of my cock, alright? You gonna do that for me, angel?”

You can’t nod, but it isn’t much of a question, not much choice available with your limited movements and the way Arthur has completely commandeered your body. You’re irrevocably his, body and soul.

It doesn’t feel possible to fit more of him in, your throat burning for relief that won’t come until Arthur is satisfied, but when he bucks his hips into you, you feel his base press against your nose. He groans hard, the noise initially from the sensation of having your throat wrapped around his cock, but when he sees the sight of you, tear stained and gagging on him, the moan is pulled out into a noise of pure ecstasy.

“Good girl… my good fuckin’ girl.”

His thumb rubs lovingly over your wet cheek, a sensation you cling to as the corners of your vision get fuzzy. Fuck, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you’re so desperate to feel Arthur’s spend trickling down your throat, feel him lose control and moan just for you that you’d honestly be willing to die for it.

Your expression, complete with lust-fogged, watery eyes, and beautifully flushed skin, teases the last of Arthur’s restraint like a razor thin blade against that final thread. When it finally snaps, you’re allowed one gasp for air, before he’s thrusting back into you hard. You can feel him stiffen, even more so than before, as his hips splutter into your mouth and he starts to tumble over the precipice into that realm of pleasure that only the two of you share.

“F-Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-” But he interrupts himself with a visceral, primal groan, the vibration of it shattering the both of you. You take advantage of his practically inebriated state to regain some of your own anatomy, managing to swirl your tongue around his pulsing head inside your mouth. The hot, salty spend blooms across your tongue at that, Arthur guiding you by the cheek to bob up and down on his cock while he paints your throat white. His moans are a melody you’ll never tire of, animalistic and vulnerable all the same.

It feels like it never stops, Arthur’s spend filling your mouth up and leaking out from the corners of your lip. You can hardly stay still, writhing your needy cunt against your own heel, desperate for a reward you’re earning when you look him in the eye and swallow it all down. Pride blooms across Arthur’s features, saturated with a love that warms you from the inside out. His thumb caresses your face softly, wiping the tear tracks as you finally release his cock from your mouth and he guides you to your feet, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“My good girl…” He coos, barely above a whisper as you breathe each other in, both as breathless as the other. Your throat aches, your jaw burning, but you’d do it a thousand times over to experience what you just did all over again.

“Now…” He splits the sentence with another kiss, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Get on inside, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redeption 2 #red dead 2

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fishsticksloser · 4 months

Note

I have another idea for requesttttt >:D

Okay, so the request is for rottmnt boys (obv) with S/O that loves beach (swimming is the ehh part) mostly just spending hours looking for seashells, sea glass, stones, etc. SO, whenever S/O gives the boys gifts even small once, they always find one or few seashells with the present like a small charms >^<

Thanks ahead🫧

-Ed

Collecting Shells

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff

A/N: thank you @mapleleavesart for your help with this! I've been struggling a lot and I'm so happy to have your support.

Donnie

He's always making you gadgets and stuff

You didn’t really need them

Only half of them didn’t blow up

Donnie had to figure out a better way to make you happy with his gifts

Since he thought you didn’t like them cause you weren’t using them much (he feels guilty when they blow up)

So he starts watching you carefully

What made you smile the most, what got you excited

When y’all went to the pier and you immediately started picking at the sand

And handing him glass and rocks that were similar in color to his skin/eyes/etc

He realized that you loved collecting this kinda stuff

About a week later he makes you a little music box

Which is pretty nice all on its own

You thought it was just a plain jewelry box at first

He urges you to open it, there’s shells and seaglass inside

Along with an oyster necklace

And your favorite song playing inside

Donnie is very proud of this one and is eager for your inevitable praise

He'll occasionally make you more jewelry and such out of the sea glass, especially the ones you said reminded you of him

Leo

My guy goes above and beyond with this one honestly

You like to collect sea shells, sea glass, cool rocks, etc?

He is going with you to collect stuff

He’ll go out on his own on nights you two can’t talk and go to the beach and looks for stuff you like

This boy is so desperate for attention and approval

He’ll give you a handful of stuff the next time you see each other

His tail wags when he sees you get excited about it

Every time he thinks of you he’ll portal another one (shell, sea glass, etc) from his secret stash

He starts leaving some in odd, innocuous places

You find them for months to come

In your kitchen, your bathroom, on countertops or desks right where you can see them

Others are hidden in drawers or cabinets

You found one in a pot as you were making dinner once

But once he portaled it on your desk while you were working

You smile when you realize that he’s thinking of you as often or more often as you think about him

Mikey

Mikey also loves cool rocks

He stacks them

You’ve made a few towers with him once

He’ll hand you any pretty rock that reminds him of you

One beach trip he ran up to you and said “look! It matches your eyes”

He put it in your hand, smiled, and dashed off again

He decided to paint you the beach But it didn’t look complete

He went to the beach and took some sand and a few shells and pieces of sea glass

He laid out glue on the canvas

Sprinkled the sand over the beach part of the painting

And placed the shells and sea glass purposefully

It gave the piece some nice texture and some visual interest

Then he gifted it to you and insisted you hung it up in your room

So that, even when you were home, you have a part of the beach watching over you

He was so happy to show it to you, and to have his artwork hanging in your room

Raph

Raph knitted you a sweater

Put it in a bag with your favorite colored tissue paper

When you opened it and saw the sweater you thought that was it, because he had been promising to knit you something for ages

However, upon his urging you looked at the bottom of the bag

There was a small wooden box

Like the ones at craft stores that were meant to be painte

You open it

There’s a small collection of sea glass and rocks that you'd given him

You love it regardless

Raph grins and hugs you, picking you up as you both laugh

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nothingenoughao3 · 2 months

Text

Daniel Cain: Reefernator

"Dan Cain is a stoner in the novelization!"

I have never been less surprised by a characterization and it's one of the only things I'll accept from the novel as canon. Because it was already canon in the movie. I know old Gen X stoner types and I know Dan is one of them, I know it in my bones.

Behold, the home of a man who smokes a titanic amount of grass whenever he's not onscreen:

[ID: three screenshots from "Re-Animator". The first shows Meg in shadow; the second shows Meg peering into Herbert West's room; the third shows Dan standing by the door with a baseball bat, and Herbert with a medical textbook on the sofa. End ID.]

Without exception, every single windowpane in 666 Darkmoor is curtained.

The curtains are eternally drawn, day or night.

The lamp could not be loved by a cocaine-snorting yuppie. Only by a stoner who likes to play with the fringe once he's on his fifth bowl.

He still hasn't unpacked most of his shit (but I promise you this: he did unpack the box that was labeled as "first aid/bathroom stuff" but it held his glass Gandalf pipe cautiously wrapped in bubble paper, and a wooden box with his stash and his grinder in it).

Dan has house plants because he thinks that freshens the air and lessens the smell of green. He is wrong. He also feels a spiritual connection to the plants when he's giga-high. He is right.

Most telling of all, he has tacked up towels and/or random pieces of cloth over the glass windows in the doors. THAT is prime "I don't want the cops to see me smoking grass" behavior.

This is the home where the air can give you a contact high. This is the home of a man who can direct you to the nearest ditch where marijuana is growing wild in any subdivision of Arkham. It's only missing a Frank Frazetta poster and a painting of mushrooms with faces, and only because they're still in one of those boxes Dan hasn't unpacked yet.

Dan Cain can roll a blunt that will give you an out-of-body experience. Dan Cain can take fat rips off a bong that will render lesser folks speechless, melting into the sofa, and gently hallucinating. Dan Cain says your edibles ain't shit and he means it for real.

And you just know that when Herbert walked in and took a single breath, he went "Oh, okay, if blackmailing him for banging the Dean's daughter doesn't work, I can always, as humans say, 'rat him out' to 'the fuzz'."

#reanimator #re animator 1985 #herbert west #dan cain #stoner dan cain #weed content #herbert west: narc-inator #headcanon #i am obscenely correct with this take

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jo-harrington · 9 months

Text

You don't have time for Christmas.

Work and home and this friend in a crisis.

Work and home and, let's be honest, probably work again.

And before you know it, it's December 20th and you don't even have any decorations up. Barely anyone does. The neighborhoods that are usually lit up with lights and figurines enough to rival the Griswolds are noticably dark this year.

What holiday? What festivity? It's wake up and hustle and lay in bed in a dreamless sleep. Then wake up to do it all again.

You are a cog in a machine.

You don't know how to voice these things, your displeasure, the secret yearning for the pomp and circumstance and childhood whimsy for the holiday season that's tucked somewhere deep inside your weary body. You can't bring yourself to indulge in it.

You're tired.

You glance down the card aisle at the grocery store but don't stop to grab any for friends. You pick up a bag of peanut butter bells for your candy jar at work but then second guess it at the checkout. Gifts are bought with as much care as you could, but you can't even bother to wrap them as prettily as you usually would.

You can try again for Valentine's. Chocolate hearts with the crispy rice inside and roses for your coworkers. Something.

But this year, you don't have time for Christmas.

And he notices.

It starts with cookies.

He likes to bake--started with boxed cake mix and then you bought him a handheld torch one year so he could try his hand at creme brûlée after he watched a little too much Jacques Pepin on PBS--so it's not anything suspicious. No ulterior motives detected.

Only he's dug up the little handwritten notebook full of your grandma's favorite recipes. Grandpa's handwriting because he wrote it while she dictated. Cookies he's never tasted before himself but seemed to have nailed exactly the way she made them. The love he poured into the treats matched hers exactly.

He brings you a plate and a cup of cocoa when you come home and collapse on the couch.

You cry when you eat them. And he lets you.

Then he digs out the tree from the garage.

The one-car garage that you pay extra for doesn't fit either of your vehicles but fits all your crap. You both vow to clean up at some point and never do. He slogs through the boxes of old band tees that don't fit him and kitchen crap that you don't miss or really need, to get to the plastic 6 ft tree that used to have stickers to note which bough went in what slot but those are long gone.

He spends hours figuring it out and decorating it, and imagine your surprise when you come home to an otherwise-dark apartment illuminated by the fat, colorful incandescent bulbs that you're sure he spent a significant amount of time untangling. You'd both given up last year and went without lights. But there they are.

"What?" you drop your bag by the door. "What is this?"

"I dunno," he grins proudly. "Thought it would be nice. Get in the Christmas spirit. Saved the star for you to put on top if you want."

And you did. You wanted it so bad. Ever since you were a kid, you were the one to put the star on top of the tree.

After it's up, you marvel at the special care he's taken with the important ornaments. Fragile little wooden ones from your grandma, popsicle stick frames with baby pictures of both of you, a macaroni snowman that he gave his mom once-upon-a-time that his uncle had stashed away, and then a fancy hallmark one you got the year you moved in together.

They all have special places on the tree and tell a story of your lives, separate and then together.

You both lay under the tree that night, staring up at the glittering lights as you hold hands.

Finally it's Christmas Eve. Which to him really meant nothing, but to you meant the world. Christmas Days were spent with individual families but Christmas Eves of old meant a big dinner and time spent with your cousins and It's a Wonderful Life on the TV.

It's a tradition that got put to the wayside as everyone got too old and too tired. As you started getting scheduled to work, like this year. And it's almost worse this year, as you've done a stretch of you-can't-remember-how-many days, that you even turned down an invitation for the two of you from your mom for a small dinner with her.

You're exhausted by the time you get home and, more than anything, you're looking forward to the day off tomorrow.

Not the holiday. The day off.

Still, you remember to bring in the handful of gifts from their hiding place in your trunk. You don't really do gifts between the two of you anymore. Nothing big at least. Just a cheesy little thing. Something fun, not something serious. But you did a little more this year than you usually would--all of the OT you'd clocked for one, and too many things you saw that you knew would make him smile for another.

You try to tip toe into the house as quietly as possible so you can throw the boxes under the tree and shower but he's vigilant. He's been at the stove cooking for a while, and he greets you at the door as you shut it behind you.

"I thought we said no big gifts," he admonishes you and snatches the boxes from your hands. The wrapping paper isn't festive--just brown craft paper you stole borrowed from work since you wrapped on your lunch--but you managed to slap on some red and green bows from the drugstore that you grabbed the other day.

"They're not big," you explained. "I promise."

"Well neither are mine," he winked.

You slap a hand against his chest and then give him a kiss in greeting and thanks.

"One better be the RC racer I wanted when I was nine," he mutters against your lips.

"Hmmm, you're just gonna have to wait," you tell him. "And no shaking the boxes.

You're almost a little ticked off'; one of them is the RC racer.

You kick off your shoes as the smell finally hits you.

Dinner.

Thick and savory and fragrant.

Some kind of fish and roasted potatoes and the starchiness of a pasta and the tang of its sauce.

Recipes, again, taken from your grandma's little notebook. They stir something deep inside of you. That yearning you never voiced.

The weariness that's been slowly building within you finally comes to a head when you make it to the kitchen and see the pots and pans and two plates already portioned out.

An ice cold beer for him, and a Shirley temple, extra cherries, for you.

"Remember when you told me," he comes up behind you and his arms snake around your midsection, "that you and your cousins would sneak extra maraschino cherries from the fridge when your gram wasn't looking. And then she went to go get them for the pistachio salad and they were gone."

Your knees shake and you practically collapse against him.

"Speaking of which, there is a pistachio salad in the fridge for dessert."

"Why?" you sniff.

"Because that's actually my favorite, so sorry to your grandma's tiramisu." He pecks a kiss to the side of your head and rocks you back and forth. "But if you want to make that for New Year's Eve, I won't say no."

"No," you let out a watery laugh. "Why are you so good to me, why did you do all of this?"

"Because I know it's been a hard few weeks. Few months." You can feel him shrug. "Fuck, it's been hard for me too but...I know this is one of your favorite parts of the year and you just...haven't been in the spirit for it. So whatever I could do to make it happen for you..."

You turn in his arms and bury your face in his shoulder, in his neck, so he doesn't see your tears. Again. Worse this time as you begin to shake from your sobs. He shushes you, runs a hand over your back, and leaves kiss after kiss against your head.

"Baby, I'll do anything for you," he tells you, voice thick with emotion. "I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy," you whine against his skin. "I'm so...so happy."

"Good."

"Thank you," you repeat it over and over again until it feels like you're empty of all the void and indifference that have filled you for the past few months are gone. In their place just...love and gratitude for him.

"Merry Christmas baby. I love you."

"I love you too, Merry Christmas."

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson fic #it honestly could be anyone but it's him #christmas fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic

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ellaa-writes · 9 months

Text

The Beast Within

author note: Part 7, part 6 here. 2k words. Kind of a filler chapter but I'm building up for something. Thanks for all the support on the last part and my other fics. Means so much and has given me a boost of confidence to start writing again. Good Dog 3 coming soon! Also part 2 to the Roommate fic. Any ideas or requests are welcomed, Enjoy :) masterlist

summary: Omegas are rare, in a world full of Alphas and Betas. Being a Omega was not only dangerous but they were highly sought after. After living your life has a Beta in disguise, you meet a scary Alpha, but not any normal alpha. But a gaint Apex Alpha who won't stop at anything to make you his.

tags: Alternative Universe. Female Reader, A/b/o dynamics. Mean Konig is back. Roze is a "doctor" in this. Mentions of dead bodies, blood, violence. Reader has had enough and does something drastic. Vomit and other bodily fluids. Not proof read.

Following around the Russian has been nothing more than annoying. Watching the slimy bastard eat his dinner and fuck his whores. Nothing solid just yet, it's been a nonstop week of tailing him.

Your calls stopped coming in, but he did arrange for a friend to stop by. Make sure you are eating and taking care of yourself. And also for some socialization.

Every time you try to leave the house he gets notified by the guards standing by. Every mean and nasty word you say to them. All logged into a file, a little proud of your fierceness against the Betas.

König was getting restless himself, currently taking a break while Simon stalked Makarov. Keeping him informed on his every move. They needed more evidence, more of a reason to tamp him out other than some gossip.

König avoided checking the security cameras, expecting the house to be a shit storm. On one of his excursions following Makarov he stopped in a jewelry store. Picking out a beautiful diamond necklace, planning on using it as some sort of collar.

It was late enough into the night that you should be in bed. Or asleep somewhere, from the logs it seems you've been using the livingroom as your central station. Anytime one of the Beta guards enter the house you scream and snarl until they leave.

Making notes for himself to start your training soon as he got back. He's hoping just another week, if not two.

On the other hand you have completely lost your mind.

The house in disarray, you pulled open every drawer and cabinet in the house. Throwing the contains on the floor, you weren't internally sure what you were looking for.

The days rolled on and you slowly began losing faith. You stopped contacting König all together, declaring that if he is dead that it was good riddance. You can got back to your normal life.

Maybe you would even get a pay out, some sort of compensation for a lost mate. Those being rare but still happen. Some even being lavished in luxury, true freedom you thought.

After waking from one of your many anger induced naps you found yourself at the dammed wooden door. Willing it to unlock and burst open.

Leaving the dark hallway and finding the tool kit stashed away in the laundry room. You dragged the kit into the living area and towards the direction of the door. Not really sure what the plan is.

You tried every screwdriver you could find to try and pry the lock off the damn thing. Even using a few hammers to bang on the knob it's self. The only progress you made was loosening the knob and creating a bunch of scratches and dents.

A ding and knock echoed through the home. Making you jump back from your work, causing you to hastily stuff the tools back into the box and slide it into a random closet. You nearly ran to the door, peaking through the peep hole.

A brown headed women stood in front of the door, a guard at her left as she waited for you.

Hesitantly you undid every lock and latch, doing them up after getting frustrated at the spies checking in on you.

You swung the door open, staring the women down. She was dressed fairly professional, she carried a small bag at her side whole the guard held a few other larger bags.

"Oh Hi. You must be the Omega." she gave you a bright smile. It warmed up your cold heart, spreading through your bones.

"How are you?" your voice came out almost sheepish. "What are you doing here?" you followed a little more confidently. Standing your ground, wanting answers before you let this strange women into your home, well König home.

"Did he not tell you?" she asked concerned, turning to look at the guard to her side who shook his head no.

"I swear he's always been horrible with communication. I apologize on his behalf you sweet thing." she held the small bag up to your face. "I brought pastries." you could smell the delicious sweetness through the bag.

"You can call me Dr. Roze." you grabbed the bag and stepped to the side. Allowing her in but stopping the guard. "It's ok Angelo. You can leave the bags at the door. Don't want to upset the Omega." the guard froze, looking at you with worry before he dropped the bags on the floor and closed the door behind him.

"Sorry for the sudden intrusion like this." Dr. Roze spoke, looking around at the state of the house. You felt a tad embarrassed, pushing a pile of papers and junk off to the side as you say at the kitchen bar. Pulling out the Danish and muffins.

"Have you been eating? König called concerned you've been neglecting yourself." she turned to you, watching as you chewed and swallowed the treat.

It hit heavy in your stomach, the same feeling of anger and distrust eating it whole.

"You talked to him? He's alive?" you felt a little disappointed. Having convinced yourself he died, but now coming to the realization that he has been ignoring you.

All the days you've cried for him, his touch and scent. You completely lost your appetite, shoving the treats into the trash and slamming in closed.

"Yes dear. As he not keep contact?" she regarded you with concern.

"No." you spat. Suddenly becoming hostile to this strange women. A women who your Alpha would rather talk to than you.

"I think you should leave." you forcibly said. Moving further away from the women. You could feel the anger rising in you.

"I don't think that's a good thing right now. You are in destress and that's not good for the pup." she tried to approach you but you nearly tripped over your feet getting away from her.

You couldn't stop the tears from falling, the way your chest tightened, the way your small breakfast what's to come up. You rush around the other side of the big island and too the guest bathroom. Spilling your stomach into the porcelain sink.

Dr. Roze keeping her distance but following suit. Pulling your hair out of your face as she turns the water on. Letting the cold water drip into the back of your neck.

"Deep breaths now, come on. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Just like that, good omega. Good." she cooed to you. Allowing her to help you.

She managed to calm you down, now sitting in the large tub filled up to your shoulders. You had your knees pulled to your chest, resting your chin on top.

You could hear Dr. Roze cleaning up the house. You also smelt something yummy cooking away. Still unsure how to feel about the situation. You wanted to hate her. Why her. Why not you.

Shaking your head to rid you of those thoughts. Deciding you were done soaking, draining the tub as you dried off and pulled your thickest and fluffiest robe on. You sat on the end of the bed, the bed you haven't laid on since the day König left.

That bastard.

It still smelt like him, the whole room smelt like him. It made your feel warm inside but also made you want to throw up again. After a few long moments you got dressed and made your way back to Dr. Roze.

Stopping before you entered the living area, you could hear her hushed yelling. She must be on the phone, she sounds pretty mad.

Finally emerging, she gave you one of her warm smiles and abruptly hung the phone up.

"Why don't we go for a walk?" she chirped. The idea of going outside, beyond the patios. You jumped at the opportunity, digging out your comfortable shoes from the coat closet and pulling on your favorite sweater.

"Are you sure.... That I can?" you questioned warily. Anytime you tried leaving the place you were marched back in. "Don't worry about it honey." she guided you out of the house, waiting in the hallway for the elevator. You've never been more excited, even though you still don't know this women. She could be leading you to your death but long as it happened out of that penthouse.

"When was the last time you just, you know, walked around." Dr. Roze kept with your pace, which was slow. "The night I met König. Which about about 2 months ago now. Wait 3 actually. Time moves differently when your stuck inside all the time." the weather was a tad chilly but you enjoyed it.

Dr. Roze just hummed beside you, letting you to continue in silence. After a few silence moments you can hear her phone buzzing. But she ignored it the first few times before finally digging it out and answering the call.

You could hear a deep angry voice in the other end. Slowing down and coming to a stop when Dr. Roze hung the phone up.

"I think it's time for us to head back, shall we? Maybe we can try to eat again." she turned to start going towards the way your came from.

"Are you really a Doctor?" you asked as you caught up to her. "Of course dear." she looked at your side ways.

"So what you said was true. That I'm... you know." you trailed off not wanting to say it out loud.

"You didn't know?" she asked, genuinely shocked. "You couldn't smell it? I did soon as you opened the door." she finished nonchalantly.

You just shook your head, your mind when to the lump of cells forming in your womb. Your would be wrapping right now if she had anymore to give.

Dr. Roze's phone never stopped buzzing but you both with ignored it on the walk to the penthouse.

Once inside the lobby waiting for the elevator you turned to Dr. Roze with a fake big smile. "It was really nice meeting you, I wish not see you again." it came out flat, your smile not reaching you eyes.

The doors opened you entered, pushing the close door option. Watching as Dr. Roze stared at you belligerently while the doors slid close.

You marched past the on duty guards, unlocking the door to your home. Slamming it closed behind you.

König knew he shouldn't have trusted that wretched women. Telling him he shouldn't have his doll locked up, under supervision. And then repeatedly violating his commands and than ignoring him.

He watched as his Omega entered the home by herself, disappearing towards the bedroom.

His phone buzzed, Roze, spitting in disgust he brought the device to his ear.

"Speak." he barked, hearing her breathing in the other end.

"You sure know how to pick them." her unamused voice carried through. "She doesn't want to talk to me. Locking herself back in that cage you call a home." she spat back

"I don't need your service anymore, your to incompetent." König was watching the screen, you've been out of sight for some time. Wishing he installed one in the bedroom, but knowing he treasures his privacy as well.

"You can't keep her-" the annoying women started but König cut her off. "I'm not repeating myself. Now make yourself scarces." he was the one to hang up the phone now.

Tossing it to the side, Makarov groaning in the distance. Simon was patiently waiting, keep the bastard alive just enough to get everything they needed from him.

His boots echoed throughout the empty factory, bodies scattered around. The smell of crimson heavy in the air.

"Now back to you." he purred out, his fist connecting to the side of the Russians face. "Do we have an agreement? Or do I have to show you again?" König motioned for Simon but the Russian spoke first.

"No, no! I understand." he said through the blood dripping out of his mouth. Simon grabbed his hair to the scalp, yanking back so he could make eye contact with him. "Where's your manners?" he growled down at the bleeding man.

"I understand my Alpha." Makarov coughed out, his broken face shining in the dim light. The Beast smiled down at him this time "Pack him up dog, make sure he finds his way home." König dismissed them. Watching as Simon dragged the man out of the building.

Finally some peace he thought, until his phone began going off back on the desk. It was his alarm, the one he installed on his desk. Opening up the cameras on the laptop König watched has his little Omega stood at his desk. The door in shambles and a sledge hammer leaning against the frame.

Getting the door open was the hardest part, using the flat head screw driver to pry open the desk was easy. Searching to contents, scattering them around the oak desk. Scanning through documents after documents about things you didn't understand.

You began rummaging around different files, nothing made sense to you. Just a bunch of numbers and dates. Not until you came across a file with pictures, but not just any pictures.

Bodies, all dead. In all stages of decay, some fresh. Some cut open and others still alive, well half alive. Your mouth hung agape as you looked through them all. Why would König have these? Are they evidence? Are they even his?

Who is he?

Tag list: @plumdreadful @traumaramacenter @kaylp-godly @napalmfairy7 @hisa-plush @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @winters-doll @joyfulfxckery @purebeskar @collete25 @fandomsinthegalaxies @jamieelol @luc1ddreamersatnight @cringeycookies @whiskytoast @kit-williams @lyc0risequin0x

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chickenkupo · 5 months

Text

I Just Want My Tea

Summary:

Wriothesley, the busy man that he is, doesn’t notice that his tea stash is getting rather low, no thanks to Sigewinne taking her share since she considers it payback for what Neuvillette and him put her through once he was claimed. It wasn’t until after a shift at the Fortress of Meropide, however, that he noticed this. After going to the home that he and his mate, Neuvillette, share, he vows that the next morning he will run to the nearest grocery market to take note of their goods, and purchase some more that suit his tastes perfectly. He drools just thinking about it.

However, Neuvillette is starting to feel a sort of odd heat beneath his skin recently, and it only gets worse as the days go by. He constantly finds himself staring at his love when they are together, and when they are apart, he can only think of having his man back in his embrace, littering him with possessive affection and a viscous need. He’s finding it hard to let Wriothesley go anywhere without him, now, this heat feeling like it is reaching its peak.

But, the man desperately wants his tea, and the dragon wants his man. The compromise? Why, of course the dragon sovereign is going to turn into a little noodle version of his full dragon form, and go with him! Why, you ask, would he do this?

Well, how else is he going to pleasure the both of them while out in public?

TLDR: Horny noodle dragon is in his heat and tries to get freaky with his mate while he just wants to do some simple grocery shopping. Chaos ensues.

Recommendations: For full context, please refer to I Promise and Now For the Next Act. This is considered a little side story before I continue on with the next 'serious' work in the series.

Warnings: 18+, though barely. Will be writing up some stuff to add onto this as a second chapter with even spicier content, but this story had to leave my head one way or another. Dubious content, public sexy behavior, slight mind manipulation.

SHOUT OUT TO MY AWESOME BETA READER, Gleth_Eldigande! Please, if you like my content, go and check out theirs here! I promise you'll enjoy it! ALSO SAY THANK YOU! They work hard to keep my lore together and keep me on track!

Author Note: IM BACK BBY! Finally wrote up my Noodle Dragon/Wriothesley story. I made it WAY LONGER than I intended to, but I don't care, here it is! Tumblr is getting 2 day early access to this, after which I will be posting to AO3 because, once more, I cannot write something short to save my life.

Sheeeeeesh, long enough intro, right? Well, let's get to the good shit!

•

Wriothesley groans as he holds his head, a small, yet persistent, headache forming. He knew what the exact cause was, and there was nothing he could do to cure it, currently. He had a few more appointments with new inmates to address, assigning them to their roles and housing, before he could leave the rest of the duties to Grace. Thankfully he had a few more moments until the next prisoners arrived for his council. His wrapped hands reached towards one of the side drawers of his massive desk, and after reviewing the contents (or lack thereof) once more, a defeated sigh escaped his lips. His wooden tea box that was consistently managed and previously well stocked had taken quite a hit logistically. He reckoned that he should have taken Sigewinne more seriously when she proclaimed that she was going to do some damage to the supplies.

“YOUR TEA IS FORFEIT!” She screamed, loud enough for Neuvillette to still remember, even with his then feral brain taking over and becoming the overprotective mate that he was now.

The Duke did not take her that seriously after the event, however. Neuvillette had informed him of what she proclaimed, as he was still passed out at the time, his body trying to process all of these new changes and get some sort of semblance of rest, for once. But, as he continued to stare down at the empty contents, he knew then that she kept to her word. He winces, a sharp pain shooting through his skull. Not only did the tea he drank help to calm his nerves after dealing with, to him, ridiculous situations most of the day, it also provided him with a level of caffeine to keep him awake. Now, not having a single drop of tea all day, his body was going into withdrawal. He desperately needed the energy, too. Not only did the constant appointments seem to drain his energy, but he also had the odd situation occurring at home.

Neuvillette, to be completely honest, was going full horny mode on him here recently, and it felt like every night it was getting worse. At this point, from what he experienced last night, he knew that the moment that he walked through the threshold of their home, the hydro dragon would once again pounce on him. The attack being sudden, as Neuvillette would probably assault his mouth with his own, his long dragon tail being released from its glamor spell and then wrap itself around Wriothesley’s legs, and halfway up his torso, holding him in place as Neuvillette would continue his assault. Then, literally get dragged into their bedroom, tossed onto the bed and be devoured as if he were some sort of feast for a god. Granted, Wriothesley loved every single second of it, but it would take so much energy out of him. They’d continuously partake in divine levels of intercourse for the remainder afternoon and well into the throes of night, until it was almost near time for him to get up and return back to the fortress, though he noticed the snarls and hisses thrown at him as he got up and ready. Never threatening to him, but he knew now how dragons would literally throw a hissy fit now. It was cute, yet slightly terrifying.

So, yes, Wriothesley needed his tea, desperately. There was no way he could go through another night of this and live to tell the tale. He’d just have to stop by the grocery building in Fontaine before he headed home. As much as he did enjoy the meals provided to him in the Fortress of Meropide, only one of the grocers in Fontaine had his favorite flavor of tea bags and loose leaves in stock, and he never went down the cheap route when it came to his tea. The man had standards, you know. He’d be a little late getting home, and maybe Neuvillette wouldn’t really notice. It wouldn’t take that long, anyway. Just one quick little trip and return home, snagging a sample of the already brewed tea that they normally had on sample display should be enough to boost his energy levels, somewhat. Ever since his somewhat odd transformation, his body did recover much more swiftly regarding many different levels of exertion, than his previous, normal human body did. For that, he was grateful, though it did take a decent amount of time for him to mentally and emotionally adjust to such changes. Dragons were determined and possessive little fuckers, but at the end of the day, Wriothesley wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Sir! Two new inmates would like to come in for their meeting, would you care to have them come in now, or do you still need a moment or two?” One of the fortress guards addressed him from the other side of the room. They must have walked in while he was deep in thought, as he didn’t hear their footsteps at all. Thinking about how your horny mate was fucking your brains out the previous night and reliving those clips in your head will do that to you. Wriothesley closed the drawer that contained the empty tea box at his desk, and did his best to put on a look that didn’t show the now throbbing headache he was suffering from.

“Go on ahead, let them in, let’s get this done and over with.” He almost grumbled, pulling out their files and taking a brief overview before the two entered his office.

The Duke had barely finished his sentence before two figures came barging in, the guard having to help press against the two individuals to keep them at a respectable distance from Wriothesley. Not so much for his safety, but rather theirs. Wriothesley did pack a rather ferocious punch, but little did everyone know that he had an even more ferocious hydro dragon that would spill blood in less than a heartbeat if even a hair on Wriothesley’s head had been damaged. But the citizens of Fontaine didn’t need to know about that, not quite yet.

“WHY IS HER ASSIGNED BED LARGER THAN MINE? HER CRIMES ARE WAY WORSE THAN MINE, THIS ISN’T FAIR!” One of the women screeched out, pushing against the guard with each emphasis.

“WELL HER MEALS ARE BETTER QUALITY THAN ANYTHING I HAVE HAD HERE SO FAR AND I DEMAND RETRIBUTION!” The other woman rang out, also pushing against the poor, singular guard, who was doing a rather fine job of holding the line. They might need a raise after today.

“S-S-SIR!” The guard yelled out, looking for any sort of instruction or assistance in the current matter.

The Duke merely sighed, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, the migraine now pulsing.

How the hell was he supposed to survive today?

•

What should have lasted five minutes felt like it lasted five hours. In reality, it did turn out to be a couple of hours that Wriothesley had to sit there, trying to make sense of the situation and figure out the best way to handle it while the poor guard held the two women back from causing not only a fight with Wriothesley, but also between each other. Grace, having stepped in to take over when she noticed she had not been called after, had truly saved him that day. He swiftly exchanged information with her, and eased himself out of the room while the Melusine tried to calm the entire situation down. At first he was nervous for her, but after turning around and looking at her crazed expression and wicked smile about facing a new challenge, he blinked, gave her a thumbs up and headed out swiftly. He didn’t have much time to spare at this point, or at all, so he needed to make this trip quick.

As much as he hated using the teleport points, mostly because it always left him with such an odd dizzy feeling after reaching his destination, he didn’t have much of a choice this time around. Touching the teleport point at the Fortress, he concentrated his energy to focus himself to travel to the central hub of Fontaine, where the shops were only a short walk away. The blue aura took over him as he closed his eyes, and felt his entire being travel from one distant location to the other. He wasn’t sure what else he could describe the sensations he was feeling when this happened, other than he felt like he was displaced in an unknown area before his being settled to where it should be. A part of him wanted to figure out the mechanics of these one day, but sometimes it was better left unknown and to just be happily taking advantage of its properties.

As his body settled in the heart of Fontaine, he doubled over for a second, holding onto a concrete railing to gather himself. Normally it wouldn’t have affected him so badly, but with the thudding pain in his head still present, it only amplified the uncomfortable sensations he was going through. Wriothesley took a moment to take a deep breath, hold for a few seconds, and then slowly exhaled. He found that helped him level himself after teleportations, and it did end up alleviating a little bit. He would have normally spent more time taking it easy for a few more minutes, but he didn’t have that luxury at the moment. He was late, still needing at least a smidge of caffeine at this point, and he had a nagging feeling in his soul that Neuvillette was not happy with him not being at their home. He was seriously fucked, not that he really minded that, but he’d rather not pass out the second they get started. Oh no, he was going to wear that hydro dragon out if it was the last thing he did.

Once he fully gathered himself and his surroundings, he hurriedly walked himself closer to the grocer. Luckily, they were ones that stayed open later than the usual surrounding vendors, so he still had some time. Wriothesley noticed that the surroundings were getting darker, the sun must be setting. His suspicions were confirmed as the outdoor post lights that littered the city began to glow, offering a new form of illumination for those out wandering about. Yeah, there was no way he was going to make it back at a reasonable time. He cursed to himself but accepted the circumstances. Now wasn’t the time to wallow and be mad, he needed to get in, grab as many of the peppermint tea bags as he could, and bail. Wriothesley looked up and saw that he was maybe a half a block away at most, before something suddenly came crashing into his side, sending him flying into a nearby alleyway. He gasped and braced himself for impact into the concrete below, but was shocked when he noticed he didn’t feel any pain, just a very familiar weight on top of him. He didn’t even need to look up to notice who was now straddling him in the dark and hidden alleyway.

“For fuck’s sake, Neuv! Really?!” Wriothesley fussed at his mate in a harsh whisper, eyes narrowed at the dragon that was laying on top of him, noticing that he was in a more half transformed body. His horns were showing again, his hair more unruly and trailing down further, eyes more feral, fangs showing and a faded mirage of his actual draconic tail whipping back and forth behind him; a dragon studying his prey.

It took a few seconds before Neuvillette replied, a hiss escaping his lips as his words left his mouth. “Yes, really…”

Wriothesley rolled his eyes, and then tried to push the man off of him, who didn’t budge at all. Blinking in confusion, and then trying again, he got the same result, with a hint of a growl from the man above him. Neuvillette lowered his head and started nuzzling down on Wriothesley’s neck near his mating mark, purring again, looking very reminiscent of the day when the claiming took place. A part of Wriothesley wanted to fade into bliss and let the hydro dragon have his way with him, but for now he had more blood rushing to his brain than his cock, which was starting to get harder by the second. They couldn’t do this out in the open, and Neuvillette sure as hell couldn’t reveal his form to the citizens of Fontaine like this. Well, brute force obviously wasn’t going to work. He had only one plan left that seemed to snap Neuvillette out of his feral fits like this, and technically it was true.

The Duke lifted one of his hands slowly, running it through Neuvillette’s hair, in a calming manner, letting him nuzzle further into his neck and breathing in his scent. The massive amount of heat radiating from Neuvillette indicated to Wriothesley that whatever he was going through was getting worse, so hopefully it wasn’t too late for him to listen to reason.

“Babe, please. My head is throbbing right now, and I need some caffeine, okay? It’ll help lessen the pain and I can uh…actually be awake and last for what you got planned, eheh…plus, can you put away the whole…dragony bits? This is not the way to really reveal this sort of information, you know…” Wriothesley laughed nervously, his cheeks flushing with an intense blush, praying to the archons that this would actually work.

Neuvillette immediately stiffened as the words settled into his brain and he fully comprehended the situation, but the heat within his body was unrelenting. His two cocks, hard as the cement below them, were brushing against Wriothesley’s own erection, still tempting the two of them into further, dirtier deeds. The hydro dragon’s instincts were going wild, demanding relief for the two of them, and Wriothesley, though his scent was incredibly attractive to him, was severely lacking in his own scent being mixed in (even though, to be quite frank, if there were any other dragons around, they could definitely smell Neuvillette all over him), which made him even more irritable. But his mate was correct, and he needed to get himself together. Wriothesley was not rejecting him, and he needed to be a good mate and take care of him.

Almost immediately, the tail that was behind Neuvillette faded back away into nothingness, his horns began to recede, fangs and hair retracting back to their previous forms. A noticeable, and adorable, pout played on Neuvillette’s face as he started to remove himself from straddling his mate, offering him his hand as he pulled the two of them up so they were both standing casually in the alleyway. Wriothesley, as he was shaking the dust and dirt off of himself, started to scan his surroundings. It didn’t seem as though anyone had walked by while they had their little scene, a relieved sigh being released once he realized this.

“Listen, ba-” Wriothesley grunted, knowing he wasn’t whispering now and was addressing Neuvillette properly, as they were in public now and more easily noticeable than before. “Monsieur Neuvillette…” he corrected himself, and cringed at how that sounded now. He knew the hydro dragon didn’t like being referred to in that way by him, but knew that they had to keep up the formalities until the proper time presented itself.

“I’ll be able to come back once I’ve grabbed what I need, real quick, alright? It shouldn’t take long, and then we can go back to…” Wriothesley’s voice trailed, as he continued talking, but Neuvillette couldn’t seem to focus on anything that was being said, as long as it was nothing regarding his health or safety.

Instead, all Neuvillette could do was feel both of his cocks still pulsing, needing friction and release. His skin started to grow hot again at the lack of touch against his mate, driving him insane. He could feel his fangs beginning to lengthen, ever so slowly as he continued staring at the scales that lightly dusted Wriothesley’s skin from his recovered injuries. He had to do something, and he had to let Wriothesley get what he needed.

“I’m coming with you, end of discussion.” Neuvillette proclaimed, ever maintaining the image of a proper gentleman even with the hell he was currently going through, as he cleared his throat and adjusted his garments, slapping the dust off of them as well from when they plummeted to the ground earlier.

“What? No, that’ll take forever! Everyone will want to talk to you! Listen, we’re both struggling here, ba-Monsieur. Go on back, and I’ll meet you there. I promise, it will not take long, okay?” Wriothesley stated, trying to reassure his lover, patting him on the shoulder as an emphasis to this. The Duke thought he was finally in the clear as Neuvillette did not respond, and began heading his way back to his original destination, before he had the oddest sensation run through him.

As quick as he felt the energy in the air, it dissipated, and suddenly he felt something wriggle its way through underneath his jacket and undershirt beneath his vest, and wrap around him like some sort of snake. He gasped in shock, trying to tear open his shirt to see what the actual fuck was going on, and his mouth dropped open as he peered down. This hydro dragon was nothing but trouble underneath all that proper poise and composure.

Underneath all of his clothes and happily coiled around his bare torso, was the hydro dragon himself, in his full dragon form, but…incredibly tiny, like a plushie. His white scales glistened with blue ever so slightly in the little amount of light that was being produced nearby. His little white hair and beard was rather fluffy and tickled his skin, the horns being too dull to prick or poke him, but still noticeably there, and the same with his claws. His tail completely wrapped around his torso and tickled his body a bit as it waved back and forth across his skin.

With an agitated sigh, he glared back down at Neuvillette one last time, who merely placed his scaled chin on one of Wriothesley’s pecs, tongue flickering out and teasing the skin of his mate, looking up at him with large, slit lilac eyes that Wriothesley was all too familiar with. The man sighed as he tightened his clothing back up, trying to ignore the ever present hydro dragon that was now descaled down to a small noodle plushie size and wrapped around him. Yeah, he wasn’t going to regret allowing this to happen at all, but maybe for once the dragon would behave himself.

“Alright, I’ll allow it, I get it, we’ll compromise on this. But if you give me any sort of trouble, I swear…” Wriothesley warned, and knowing his lover, he was surprised when he didn’t hear any sort of feedback. Dragons were rather proud creatures, so a statement against them as such, even from their lifelong mates, usually warranted some sort of warning growl, hiss or light love bite. But Wriothesley felt nothing. Blinking, thinking that maybe Neuvillette was just really distracted with how he had been feeling the past couple of days, he took it as a sign of acceptance of terms, and moved onward to the grocery store.

Oh, how wrong he was. No matter the dragon, they were all the same in this respect. When they wanted something, they got it. End of discussion. Though they do cherish their mates deeply, they were nothing but masters of persuasion and persistence. One way or another, what they wanted would become theirs. Neuvillette was not an exception, even to this.

Even if he was in an adorable noodle form that Wriothesley was secretly gushing about in his mind – it was too cute to handle, but he had to stay focused.

Wriothesley tested the next few steps that he took, making sure to concentrate more on the dragon that had curled around him than the still throbbing pain that he felt in his head. So far, so good. It seemed Neuvillette was content with just having some skin to scale contact. Maybe that’s what he needed all along, or that’s just the level of restraint that Neuvillette had now, knowing that his health wasn’t at tip top shape. He chose to end his logical reasoning, and focused instead on the grocer, who was now in plain sight. The door was still propped open, and the lights were still on inside, some patrons walking in and some walking out with their purchased goods. A brief sigh of relief escaped his lips as he started to walk through the threshold, observing the different aisles of goods, knowing exactly what he needed. He was a man on a mission right now.

Though the building looked rather small from the outside, the inside of it was quite large. Aisle after aisle of consumable goods were on display, one trip here is all you would require for most of your culinary needs. Ranging from fresh meat, to locally grown vegetables and fruits, to imported goods, the store had all that you needed and then some. Since the rebuilding efforts of Fontaine began after the the chaotic events occurred, many of Teyvat’s nations decided to pitch in one way or another and send goods to the local stores of Fontaine, helping to restock whatever goods they had until the nation was able to provide at full capacity for its citizens once more. The citizens of Fontaine greatly appreciated this for many reasons, but one of the major ones was the new type of diversity of resources and food provided. Wriothesley was just one such of these people. Without Mondstadt sending over some of their interestingly flavored tea, he would not have been able to try the peppermint flavor that he now constantly desired. Something about the mint from the land of freedom itself just had that extra fresh and tasteful twist to the brew that he couldn’t find anywhere else. Plus, if he ever had a day when his throat was irritating him (he’s mentally glaring down at the cute but troublesome noodle dragon that was coddling his chest, being the source of these recent moments), it fixed him right up. The Duke was about to walk down one of the aisles to go to the middle of the store where it had a more open view of where the items were located, when all of a sudden he felt a light tapping on his shoulder.

The man turned around to address the individual, immediately on high alert, which faded almost as soon as it had developed. A sweet, gentle smile of a young woman graced him, one that was sadly familiar to him now, but he was used to having social situations like this. He blessed her with one of his trademark smiles, arms crossed over his chest. He did poses like this to give off a rather calm, but stern demeanor. He had a reputation to uphold, after all, no matter the circumstances. But he would be lying if he were to say that this didn’t have a secondary purpose. He had started feeling Neuvillette wiggle against his skin and clothing, trying to adjust himself, he supposed, to get a better view of the situation. Though, that was still rather hard to do with the amount of layers that Wriothesley tended to wear.

“Your Grace, it was indeed you! I just wanted to thank you for your assistance the other day. I know it’s not the best situation, but you’re truly one of the best to handle it. I don’t know what I would have done without all of the help that you and your men provided.” The young woman said, with a sweet, soothing voice. Such a compliment caused Wriothesley to blush ever so slightly. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell, even in bright lighting. But one being could, and that was the ever growing jealous dragon that was snuggled up to him.

Noodlette (Wriothesley was proud of this title he just came up with for him, he’d have to tell him about it later after they got back from pound town), was clearly starting to get agitated. The moment he seemed to have heard that it was a female voice that was close to his mate, a slight hissing sound escaped him. Luckily for Wriothesley, her voice seemed to out-mask his tiny hiss, which irritated the hydro dragon even more. He was well aware that women were of no interest to Wriothesley, but he was also well aware that most people found the man attractive, and loved to have his undivided attention. Attention that should be his, by the way, especially now when his heat was about to be upon the two of them at full blast. Noodlette grunted, and being the needy dragon that he was, started to come up with some mischievous plans.

“Of course, it’s all part of the job, after all. Your brother will be taken care of at the Fortress of Meropide, I swear. But, it’s good to see you out and about. Get your mind off things, you know? People make the wrong decisions sometimes, but we’ll handle it from here.” Wriothesley tried to assure her that no thanks were necessary, it was all part of the job. He was about to continue on with another sentence before he stopped in his tracks, immediately becoming stiff, so much so that the young woman in front of him gasped, reaching her hand out to him to check on him.

“Your grace! Are you alright?!” The woman asked, worriedly.

Wriothesley continued to try to keep himself together, but the sensations were already starting to flood his senses. Noodlette had started slowly licking the skin around his left nipple, lapping the hardening bud up while lightly nipping and pulling on it. Noodlette also had his claws out, though not all full sharpened length, as he slowly dug into Wriothesley’s skin, not enough to break it, but enough for his mate to feel the tension, and slowly started to drag his claws down. The two of them came to find out that Wriothesley loved it when the hydro dragon would release his claws and scratch at him while they were love making. It became one of his favorite things, and Neuvillette didn’t mind at all. The more marks on him to show the world that he was claimed, the better, in his opinion. Wriothesley grunted as he tightened his arms around himself, hoping to constrict the noodle dragon and halt his actions. It worked, for now. Little did he know that the dragon was beaming, having had a naughty moment with his mate, getting him all flustered, and this woman hadn’t achieved that. Plus getting a tight hug like this? The dragon was the proudest he had been in a while now.

Clearing his throat to hide a moan as Noodlette started to slowly inch his claws back down his skin, Wriothesley put every bit of his focus and energy into keeping the conversation normal.

“Y-Yes, sorry about that. I’ve been having a little bit of a headache today, nothing to worry about. That aside, I’ll be sending some update reports your way once your brother gets established at the Fortress.” Wriothesley stated, surprised at his own ability to keep himself together at this point. He could feel the little noodle dragon starting to squirm again, and he had no doubt that his lover wasn’t enjoying the woman’s company, especially being so close when he had one thing on his mind, dicking his mate down hard. The Duke was getting the message loud and clear. Get away from other threats, get the goods and go home so they can lose themselves in feral lovemaking.

The young woman brought her arm back to her side as she eyed him up and down, skeptically, making sure he was indeed alright. After a few seconds of seeing him maintain his composure, she simply offered him another soft smile, nodding her head.

“Alright. I do hope that you feel better, your grace. Once more, thank you for all of the help, truly. I apologize that part of my family caused so much of a mess for you, but hopefully this will all be the proper steps in the right direction.” She concluded, giving a small bow as she eyed him up and down once more, making sure that she didn’t miss anything. But, his stature and expression remained the same as he had given a small smirk, nodding his head in acknowledgement to her. She took that as her dismissal, and promptly left after gathering her small bag of goods and left.

The moment that her presence couldn’t be felt nearby, Wriothesley began to feel an odd, small vibration coming from Noodlette. Blinking in curiosity, Wriothesley peeked downwards and saw that the small dragon was gently rubbing his head against his skin again, purring away, with a big smile. It was almost as if the hydro dragon were just as gleeful as ever, rubbing his face away on him like a cat would their owner. The man had no doubt Noodlette was enjoying himself by staking his claim yet again by scenting him, like it wasn’t already obvious through the faintly shimmering scales that littered Wriothesley’s skin if the light hit them right, or the blue essence that Neuvillette had pumped into him the night of the claiming that was still coursing through his veins. This made Wriothesley think of all the ways the dragon obviously had him as his mate and vice versa, his mind not clearly understanding just how truly territorial dragons were with their mates and close loved ones. In truth, the woman that had approached Wriothesley just moments ago was lucky that the dragon didn’t strike her down right then and there. Dragons, back in prior times, held no mercy against any threat, subtle or not, to their claim. However, that just showed how much Noodlette still respected the position and title of his mate. Though, instincts were hard to completely control, and this was what resulted from him trying to resist them while also giving in a bit, before it all drove him into insanity.

If only Wriothesley understood this to the fullest extent, however. Instead, the man just found Noodlette to be needy and extremely bratty at this point. Though not necessarily untrue, he would find out later that night exactly what this all entailed. That didn’t stop the Duke from continuing to glare down on the blissed out Noodlette, and after looking around to see if anyone was nearby and content when there was not, he squeezed the dragon a bit which earned a little adorable squeak from the tiny dragon, like some sort of plush toy. Wriothesley knew he didn’t hurt the poor little thing, just surprised him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Wriothesley hissed at at Noodlette, who tried to look up at him with the most innocent eyes that he could muster, along with an odd light chuffing noise, which the man assumed was some sort of pouting huffs to emphasize his adorableness and lessen his anger. Wriothesley growled at the minuscule dragon, who then got a cranky face of his own, and growled right back at him, even though it sounded so pitiful. The growl of the dragon eased off into a whimper, as Wriothesley started to feel the whole body temperature of the noodle dragon that had wrapped himself around him start to drastically increase. Noodlette started whimpering even louder, and Wriothesley blushed as he started to feel a rhythmic movement against his chest, sides, and…was that Noodlette’s little tail that had somehow wormed its way past all of his belts and headed straight down his waist?

Wriothesley’s eyes widened as the rhythmic ministrations continued, and he began to hear an odd panting noise coming from Noodlette. Was that also…what was that hardness that was bumping up against him? Wait, what the fuck? Was Noodlette humping him now? Was this what this was?!

“Y-You need to stop that and get it together! You’re such a little shit! Stop it, stop it!” The man growled out, keeping his arms once again tight around his own torso, trapping the little Noodlette to prevent any more movements. The last thing that needed to happen was for him to have a massive boner in public like this and have to provide some explanation to the general public as to why he was walking around a grocery store in that sort of state. The little Noodlette let out a little squeaky whine again, barely audible but with Wriothesley’s increased sense of hearing since their initial coupling, he sure was able to hear it loud and clear.

However, the young little boy that was bouncing between the aisles didn’t notice this noise. He had broken away from his mother, who had found someone that she knew a few aisles down and was doing the classic mom thing of talking for what felt like hours, just to say nothing or discuss boring drama that the little boy had no interest in. None of the aisles had really piqued his curiosity, except for the one with sugary sweets and drinks. His mother had swiftly ushered him away from those, the last thing she needed to deal with was a hyperactive kid when it was close to dinner time as it was. So, the kid ventured away as soon as her attention was divided, and that’s how he came upon the aisle where he saw the strange man, dressed so scarily (and like a badass), in grays, black and reds, with belts and boots to match. He was awed at first, until he saw the odd behavior of the man. He seemed to be hugging himself and muttering some odd words, almost as if he were fighting with himself. What was once awe then turned into apprehension and wariness as the kid started to get a worried feeling about the guy in front of him. He was acting odd, clearly talking to himself, should they call the guards?

The child started to take a few steps away until he accidentally backed into one of the shelves, causing a can of archons knows what, to fall off of the shelf and roll on the ground towards the odd man. The kid's heart began to race so hard he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest and go running down the street. He was frozen in fear as the can rolled right into one of the black boots of the man. The man then whipped around to look at the kid, sharp, gray-blue eyes pierced right through the kid's soul, it felt like, and the kid started to shriek and cry as he ran back towards where he last saw his mother.

Wriothesley stood in place as he was trying to comprehend what was going on, as well as hoping that the kid didn’t see the little Noodlette’s head poking out from underneath his vest, tongue flicking out in curiosity. It took a second for the man to notice the little dragon head poking out, viewing the outside world for a few seconds before he hastily shoved the little scaled head back down underneath his clothes. At first, the dragon tried to fight and push its way back out, but the horny seemed to get the best of him again the second he felt more skin to scale contact. The little dragon crooned as he began rubbing his face all over his mates skin again, tongue lapping out, teasing the man. This made Wriothesley groan as he accepted his fate. He knew there was no trying to calm the little dragon down, he needed to go and get the tea and get the fuck out of here, and fast. He was already starting to make a scene, he didn’t need anymore added to his docket right now.

“Just, just don’t do anything crazy, please, I’m almost done!” Wriothesley begged as he began to race down through the store, heading towards the exact aisle that he needed. He glanced around, sighing in frustration as he noticed some of the items had been moved around since he had last visited the store, the peppermint tea not in the same location as it was before. Luckily, he remembered that the packaging was in a light blue box with a scene of misty mountains on it, and after taking a moment to go back and forth in the aisle, he managed to finally find it. The second that his hands grasped the box, he felt like his migraine was already starting to fade away, the cure was finally in his grasp. Happy, and somehow not becoming a moaning mess at the noodle dragon that was currently trying to tease his nipples again, he began to storm out of the aisle and towards the front of the store to pay for his goods, before he felt a presence in front of him.

“Oh, it’s you! Oh, my son just adores you, he’s always going about how he wants to work at the Fortress of Meropide one day! Seriously, you’re his biggest hero! It’s not often we see you in these parts of Fontaine, can we get your autograph, your grace?” A middle aged woman ran up to him, leaving her cart and child behind, and whipping out a pen and notepad that he saw also had a grocery list on it.

As much as Wriothesley wanted to oblige her, he felt the little noodle getting rambunctious underneath his clothing again. That was never a good sign, he noted. The hydro dragon probably thought this was yet another threat to his claim, which had him mentally rolling his eyes. However, to his surprise, and dismay, it seems as though Noodlette had come up with a new method of torturing him. It was subtle at first, but as Wriothesley was about to reply to the woman, his actions ceased as he heard a weird sort of…tune? Coming from the little dragon. At first it just seemed like a series of growls and coos, but now it started to blend together in an odd, soothing melody that hastily started having his senses be dulled and a light heat pumping through him. He shook his head, holding a hand up to it to support himself as he began to come back to, though not fully snapping out of it.

“Oh! Are you alright?! You must be suffering from hay-fever like the rest of us right now, I know that look anywhere, young man. You need to be getting your rest and sleep! Come, Conner, let’s leave your hero to rest! How else is he going to stay big and strong and keep us all safe?!” The mother stated to her child and she returned back to her cart, trying to usher the two of them away.

It was then that Wriothesley got a good look at the young kid that was with her, eyes wide open as he noticed it was the same young child that he had seen before that ran off, terrified of him. He inwardly groaned, thinking for sure that he didn’t blame the kid for having that sort of reaction, he was a kind of scary guy, especially with how frustrated he was sure he looked after this whole debacle. After the kid realized who was in front of him and his mother, sniffles turned into a full blown crying episode as he clung to his mother for comfort and safety.

“Now, now, Conner! It’s okay, we’ll get his autograph when he’s feeling better, okay sweetie? Who knows, maybe the Duke will feel so much stronger then that he’ll even want to pick you up onto his shoulders, wouldn’t that be fun?!”

The child only started crying harder after hearing that, clearly still terrified of the man, little to the knowledge of his mother.

“Hush, hush! Here, why don’t we go back down the sweet aisle and I’ll grab you some sweet bread, wouldn’t that be nice? That’s my big boy!” the mother crooned, as she gathered her son and started walking down the way towards the desserts and breads. Wriothesley only wished he could give some sort of verbal reply, but that damned song that Noodlette was performing was preventing him from doing so. He was surprised that the older woman or her child couldn’t hear it, which started to make him believe that Noodlette was making this only noticeable through his own hearing.

The little noodle started to unwind himself from his mate, now slithering out from underneath his clothes, head and neck peering out to look Wriothesley directly in the eyes. The duke could only stare and get lost in the piercing, slit eyes of his mate, even in this form. Where they were once wide and adorable to look at, now they held a level of conviction and seriousness, a possessive aura flowing through them. Wriothesley didn’t sense anyone near them, which was a relief, but he was confused as to what exactly was going on now.

To his shock, those same small glowing orbs that had appeared when Neuvillette had first claimed Wriothesley appeared again, and the longer that the man stared at them, the more he started falling under whatever spell that Noodlette was casting upon him. The tune was so coaxing, his migraine, which was still there, had lessened to a dull thud, and the heat that was once pooled in his gut was starting to branch out everywhere within himself now. The song teased him with senses of peace, pleasure and possession, if he would only surrender himself to it. It needed his consent, craved it, and he knew the moment that he gave it, all of Fontaine be damned, this dragon was going to claim him then and there, in front of them all. This was, he assumed, what Sigewinne had once told him about as she had started to study the mating rituals of dragons, especially after what she had witnessed that one fateful day. There weren’t many records, but the ones that did exist, she absorbed their contents immediately.

There was one story that she shared of a dragon’s mating call. Normally, this would be used to lure a potential mate in, but it also served different purposes as well, especially if a mating bond had already been established. If that prerequisite had been met, then the mating call held an overall different purpose. Instead, instead of luring in a potential mate, this call was used to lure their stubborn mate to give into their deepest, carnal desires, tossing logic to the side and also increased the sensitivity within their nerves, guaranteeing that once the mate fully submitted, they would experience a pleasure more intense than ever before, unless the song had been used on them previously. Sometimes mates needed to be reminded of who they belonged to, and when a dragon called out to them with this mating call, they would never forget again.

Wriothesley tried to fight against the sensations at first, but the battle was easily lost. He felt his consciousness flow into a state of calm and bliss that no other sensible thoughts were running through him. He should be resisting, checking to see if anyone else saw this little noodle of a dragon poking out from underneath his clothing to stare into his soul and devour it whole. He should be convincing Neuvillette that this was a horrible idea, that they needed to keep away from the prying eyes of the citizens of Fontaine that were still within the store. He knew at first that this needed to be top priority, fuck the tea at this point, but he couldn’t fight. Whatever energy was flowing through him now, it was as if it were his own blood pumping through his veins. This claim that the dragon had was eerily strong and superior, it transcended anything that Wriothesley could muster against it. It should horrify him, but it oddly gave him a sense of satisfaction and adoration for the hydro dragon. Previously, no one in his life held any high value to him, other than Sigewinne. No one truly cared or wanted the best for him or would be willing to give up everything just to see him smile. He felt that, among many waves of lust and wanting, through the bond that they shared with each other. He, himself, was about to toss every sense of care away and act upon it.

Wriothesley took a few steps forward, now noticing that there was a full body supporting him now, helping him to keep upright. The Duke wanted to raise his head and address the figure, but no words could be formed. The searing heat continued to rage through him, not in discomfort, but rather waves of pleasure. He was about to release a series of moans, before a gloved hand came up to press a finger against his lips, silencing him.

“Shh, my dear, we wouldn’t want you to, how does one say, ‘spill the tea’ now, would we?” A haughty Neuvillette teased, now fully back into his humanoid form. Since his mate received the mating call so well, his body and soul knew that it would be appeased soon, and the primal instincts within himself started to recede, enough for him to drag his prize back into their den for a copious amount of carnal activities.

“Now, let’s go and make a purchase and commence our meeting, shall we? We have some rather important details to go over…” Neuvillette said, again in the same teasing tone as before. He offered Wriothesley his side for support, helping him walk ahead towards the front of the store. Helping was a rather loose term here, however. The call was still playing through Wriothesley’s mind, and it felt like the bond between the two of them was flowing through his body and helping to propel his legs forward, beyond his sense of control, one of his hands holding his head to soothe the dull throbbing that still persisted. Even the mating call wasn’t enough to douse the intense pain. To outsiders, it would look as if the duke were suffering from a casual migraine and the prim and proper Neuvillette was helping him to finish at the store and return back to the Fortress of Meropide as soon as possible. They had no idea that there was a dragon in heat clawing to release and mate with its lover before a feral rage took him over that would level Fontaine as fast as it was rebuilt.

Wriothesley could hear faint mutters through all of the sensations that he was currently feeling. He recognized Neuvillette’s voice easily, but there was another that was there. Cheery, concerned, and businesslike. He assumed that it was the storekeeper, ringing up their purchase and voicing their concerns for him. However, his professional mate addressed the issue, he was sure, as they spent a few more moments there and were ushering themselves out the store, he could hear the bell of the door ringing as it opened, and once more as it closed. It was odd, he couldn’t really sense anyone strongly outside of his mate, but a part of him knew it was still the working of the mating call. He only needed to recognize his mate, respond to him and surrender himself completely to his dragon, and only his dragon.

He felt his body continuing to move on its own, until it suddenly stopped. The hold that was over him was starting to lift now, not completely, but enough for him to become aware of his surroundings. It was now dark outside, the sun must have set while they were inside dealing with each other's shenanigans. The lights of the lamp posts were keeping the areas lit, which struck him with a wave of curiosity. The two of them were currently in front of one of the large fountains within the city square, close enough to feel some of the droplets of water bounce off of the surface and dust their skin. As Wriothesley continued to take note of his observations, he saw that there were a decent amount of people surrounding them, some in small groups and conversing with each other, others appeared to have been walking down the streets connecting to the other parts of Fontaine, while the rest were surrounding the fountain, taking in the beauty of it. But, there was something really odd going on here.

None of the people were moving. It was as if they were frozen in time, but everything else around them was continuing on. The waves of the fountain continued to cause a light sprinkle to grace their skin, and for that Wriothesley was thankful. At least there was something moving and making him feel less crazy, though he had no idea what was going on, yet again. Looking to his mate for answers, he gasped as he saw that Neuvillette’s eyes were glowing bright, pupils sharp as he stared at him, causing shivers to go down Wriothesley’s spine. They didn’t need words between them right now, the bond pulsed between the two of them and gave him all of the information that he needed. Neuvillette had done something to stop everyone from being able to see whatever the hell was about to happen. The duke tried to take a few steps back from Neuvillette out of caution, and that was the absolute wrong thing to do.

It all happened within a split second, a snarling, loud and ferocious growl was released from Neuvillette as he rushed right up to Wriothesley before he could take a second step backwards. Immediately, arms were wrapped around the duke, pulling him so close to the man that their noses were practically touching. The hydro dragon continued with his warning growls, fangs elongated to greater lengths than before, horns protruding from his crown and the dragon tail that was once a ghost form of itself now completely corporeal and wrapping around Wriothesley, holding him tight.

“Wriothesley…” the dragon purred out, with a slight growl towards the end. This made the man weak in the knees, completely thankful that his mate was supporting him with his arms and tail. He felt like such a limp noodle right now, and he knew that fighting any further would not be beneficial to him at all anymore. No, he was prey that was captured now, and he needed to face what was coming for him.

“We have what you need…” Wriothesley looked and saw a small bag attached to his side, it must have been the tea bags from earlier. The man gulped, knowing that he had teased the dragon before and had given him trouble while in the noodle form, a big no-no for the mate of a dragon.

“Now, you must suffer the consequences of your actions, my love. You were late, you did not tell me of your status, and kept me waiting.” Neuvillette continued, as he began to move the two of them painfully close to the fountain that was behind them. Then, a sharp smirk played on Neuvillette’s face as he pushed the two of them into the water of the fountain, Wriothesley’s eyes becoming wide as he wasn’t prepared for his dragon’s sudden motion. The dragon continued to push the two of them into the water’s depths that seemed to be endless now. The Duke could feel the unfamiliar waters turn into ones that he was too familiar with now. What felt like minutes underwater being pushed through by his dragon, then ended as they both breached the water's surface, his body being tossed onto the familiar bed that the two of them shared. It was obvious now that Neuvillette had frozen people in their steps so that they could teleport back swiftly to their den. Neuvillette stood at the door leading to their watery bedroom, as he smirked at his mate, holding the bag with the caffeinated goods inside.

“You’ll have your tea here in a few moments. But I’m going to have you all night…”

Archons, this dragon drove him crazy in every sense possible, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#genshin impact #neuvillette #wriothesley #wriolette #ao3 writer #ao3 #neuvillette x wriothesley #ao3 fanfic #writing #noodlette #wriothesely smut #neuvilette smut #dragon smut #sigewinne #noodle dragon #genshin smut

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hellenhighwater · 2 years

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Closet's done! I nearly pancaked myself getting the shelves up solo, but I'm glad to have it done. A place for everything, etc., etc.

The doors were a pain to hang, and they're going to get painted whenever I decide what color trim is going to be in the whole entire house. They're about the same age as the house (about 120 years) but not original to the house, since previous homeowner removed all the closet doors and didn't keep them. Most of what's in here is my fabric stash, some blankets and linens for my bed, and some odd tools--the wooden box in the middle is my great-grandfather's woodcarving tools, which I used in the process of fitting these doors on.

The color is Oakmoss; it's a shade of olive that's pretty close to the olive corduroy seat on my birdcage chair, which sits in the other corner of the room.

#hellen highwater's house of horrors #there's a trick to arranging stuff so its visually appealing but still fills the available space #i can talk about that if people want #for me having my storage be pretty helps motivate me to keep it orderly

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loverhymeswith · 1 year

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Let's Be Alone Together || Part Four

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Tommy's revelation is cut short by an unexpected distraction

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: This chapter contains scenes of a violent nature, including a physical attack, blood, guns and gore. Please proceed with caution. Also, a probably poor description of inside the Shelby's betting shop.

A/N: Shout out to @a-reader-and-a-writer for the love, support and whump-spiration💖

Masterlist

For half a moment, you think that Tommy Shelby is going to kiss you. His mouth - parted - is so close to your own that if either of you were to move forwards, even by just an inch, your lips would be touching.

So close, yet so far.

Because in the quiet of the betting shop, the two of you stand frozen; a tableau. Your hands, surprisingly steady, rest against Tommy’s broad chest, fingertips brushing the dark leather straps of his shoulder holster. His hands, surprisingly soft and warm, cup your jaw as he searches your gaze.

“Tommy…”

His extraordinary blue eyes widen, blinking rapidly. But it’s not the sound of his name as it falls from your lips that breaks whatever spell he’s fallen under. Somewhere in the back of the shop, a floorboard creaks.

Tensing beneath your touch, Tommy’s voice is low but urgent when he finally speaks. “Were you alone? Before I got here?”

Tentatively, you nod. Arthur had locked the door behind him before leaving earlier this morning. It’s inconceivable that anyone else could have been here with you - that you hadn’t been aware of their presence this whole time.

Isn’t it?

Tommy carefully releases you, his scar-flecked hands balling into fists as they fall to his sides. “Go,” he tells you in the same quietly compelling tone that leaves no room for argument. “Lock yourself in the office. Don’t come out until I tell you to do so.”

Deprived of the reassuring warmth of his touch, your head spins at the sudden shift in the man before you - the man now reaching for his gun. From curiously captivated to deadly calm - this is the side of Tommy you recognise. The side you have become accustomed to.

The man who protects his empire and his assets at all costs.

“Go.”

With little choice but to follow his orders, you abandon the wooden table in the centre of the room and hurry behind the metal bars that separate Polly’s office - and the cash boxes - from the rest of the shop. The gate shuts behind you with a heavy clang and with trembling fingers you lock yourself inside, pocketing the key.

Despite your line of sight being skewed by the bars, you watch uneasily as Tommy begins his sweep of the shop, one unwavering arm outstretched as he aims his gun into the dimly lit corners of the room.

Is it possible he’s overreacting, or is there really someone else here? Someone who doesn’t belong.

The thought alone causes you to falter, staggering backwards until you reach the far wall of the office. How long have they been watching you? What would have happened had Tommy not returned? Have you really been a sitting duck all this time?

With a start, you remember the gun. The small pistol Arthur had given you - an employment gift of sorts - stashed away in your handbag beneath the wooden table. If you could just make it out of the cage undetected… You’ve never fired the thing, but the intruder doesn’t know that.

Attentioned focused solely on Tommy as he slips through the curtains to check the rest of the house, you take a hesitant step forwards. Three more steps and you’ll be back at the gate. But before you can move another inch, something - someone - grabs hold of you from behind, dragging you away from the bars.

A rough hand smothers your mouth, stifling the scream you were about to let rip.

“Make a sound and my pal over there will blow his fuckin’ brains out.”

The voice, barely more than a harsh whisper, is unfamiliar and you freeze in the foreign grip, just in time to see a shadowy figure move beyond the bars. Damning evidence of Tommy’s impending peril.

“Atta girl,” your assailant mutters into your ear, his hot, damp breath making your skin crawl. “Now, you’re gonna do exactly what I say and no one has to get hurt. We just want the cash.”

Fear paralyses your body, but your mind is whirring, desperate for a way out. Because you recognise the northern accent. You know enough about the Shelby’s business dealings to understand that it’s far more than money these Yorkshiremen are after.

Power. Revenge. War.

If you stand here silently, they will murder Tommy in cold blood.

Despite the heavy breathing of the man holding you captive, you strain your ears for the faintest sound - any indication of where Tommy is or what he’s doing. If he comes back into the shop and finds you being held hostage, he’ll take aim at your captor and it won’t end well for anyone.

You can’t let it come to that.

With concern for Tommy clouding your judgement and no better plan emerging, you say a fleeting prayer to the god you no longer believe in and discretely raise your left leg, bringing your heel down with great force on your assailant’s foot.

The man yelps. The shock of the attack briefly loosens his grip, just as you’d hoped, allowing you enough room to wiggle out of his arms whilst simultaneously elbowing him in the stomach. As he doubles over in pain, you bolt to the gate, scrambling for the keys.

Get the gun. Get to Tommy. Get out.

From the furthest recess of the shop, you hear Tommy - alerted by the sounds of your struggle - shouting your name, his voice thick and rasping with panic.

“There’s two of them,” you yell back, no longer fearing for your own safety. You just need Tommy to be ok.

But there’s no response, and before you can unlock the gate, a hand clamps tightly around your forearm, hauling you away from the bars and spinning you around.

“You stupid bitch.”

The man lashes out, his palm connecting with your cheek in a wicked blow. Tears spring to your eyes as your skin burns, but you manage to stumble to the side, ducking unsteadily in order to avoid a second strike.

“Didn’t I warn you, eh? Didn’t want to spill blood today but looks like you’re leavin’ us with no choice.”

The hold on your arm is relinquished, only to be replaced almost instantly by the same hand clasping your neck, thick fingers pressing painfully into your windpipe until it’s difficult to breathe.

But apparently, this would be far too kind a demise. Because, moments later, you feel the telltale sting of metal as the cold, hard muzzle of a gun kisses your temple.

No. Not like this.

Where is Tommy?

As you grapple to free yourself from the tight grip around your throat in a panic-stricken haze, you recollect a lesson given to you by John all those months ago - half in jest - on the basics of self-defence: how to hit a man where it hurts.

If this is the end, at least you’ll go down fighting. Maybe they made a Peaky Blinder out of you, after all.

Your fingers scratch desperately at your assailant’s hands as he draws you closer, the dampness beneath your nails indicating that you too are capable of spilling blood. But it’s a mere distraction. He doesn’t notice you jerk your knee upwards in a violent fashion, as high as it will go, until it’s too late.

Seconds away from blacking out - or having your brains blown out - you hit the magic spot.

The man lets out an almighty grunt as he releases you, both hands flying to his crotch as he folds to the floor. Nothing less than sheer instinct sees you lurching forwards and wrenching the gun out of his weakened, bloody grip.

You’re panting now, every breath burning as you fight to fill your lungs and clear your head. You have the gun trained on the crumpled man, but the nightmare is far from over. Behind you, there are sounds of a skirmish. Grunting and shouting as Tommy wrestles with the second intruder, but mercifully no gunshots.

Without taking your eyes off your attacker, you slowly inch backwards until you hit the bars of the cage. The keys remain jammed in the lock, just as you’d left them.

“Tommy,” you yell, frantically. “Are you ok?” But the damage to your throat has left your voice hoarse, little more than a wheeze.

When Tommy - understandably - doesn’t reply, you risk a glance over your shoulder, just in time to spot him grabbing the stranger by his jacket and hauling him against the blackboard. The man might tower over him by at least half a foot, but he is no match for Tommy’s pure strength. As Tommy begins pummelling his fists into the man’s face, you dare to allow yourself a moment of relief and, barely registering the horror of the situation, you look away.

Returning your attention to your own assailant, you are startled to find that, like something out of your very worst dreams, he has risen. His hideous face twists into a cruel smirk as he approaches, his pace slow yet menacing.

“You ain’t got it in you, lass.”

Maybe he’s right. Your hands are certainly trembling as they tighten around the gun, the prospect of taking a man’s life suddenly very terribly real.

Kill or be killed.

It doesn’t make it any easier. And you’d had the nerve to call Tommy a coward. Maybe you should take a look in the mirror.

On second thoughts, better not. Because in one moment the man is standing before you, his arms outstretched and ready to attack. The next, there is a deafening bang and he slumps to the floor, his brains splattered on the wall behind him.

Stunned into stillness, you hear Tommy shout your name, his spent gun clattering to the ground. You’re vaguely aware of the cage opening behind you and the next thing you know, you’re collapsing into a strong, reassuring pair of arms.

“It’s over now. I’ve got you. It’s over.”

Tommy’s hushed words are a soothing balm as he gently turns you to face him, assessing you for injury as he holds you at arm’s length. Whatever he sees quickly causes his brow to furrow and his jaw to tense, his attention lingering on the bruises around your neck.

Through tear-stained eyes you meet his gaze - a frightening, ice-cold gaze - the kind of gaze that promises a swift and painful death to those who hurt you - except he’s already delivered that, hasn’t he?

In the waning afternoon light, you take the opportunity to study him, too. His shirt is stained red and a sheen of sweat covers his skin. The lengths of his hair are damp, slicked across his forehead. But despite being in such an unusual state of disarray, there’s no obvious sign of injury, except for a small cut above his brow.

Tommy’s fury passes and gradually, his expression softens. “I’ve got you, love. It’s ok. You’re going to be ok, you hear me?”

He starts to pull you closer as you nod mutely, but you feel something damp against your temple and you stiffen in his arms. When you touch a finger to your skin, it comes away crimson.

“Blood…” you murmur, somehow not as horrified as you know you should be.

Ever so slowly, so as not to startle you, Tommy takes your face in his hands just like before.

“It’s not yours,” he assures you, softly wiping away the evidence with his thumb, oblivious - or maybe not - to the fact that his own hands are already stained. “You’re ok, eh. We’re ok.”

“I couldn’t do it, Tommy. I couldn’t pull the trigger.”

“I know.” He lowers his head, until your brows are almost touching. “And that is nothing to be ashamed of. You did more than anyone could have asked for. I saw the way you fought back. The boys will be so proud of you. I am proud of you.”

You try to shake your head, still in his grasp. “It wasn’t enough.”

Because you should have been better. Quicker off the mark. You shouldn’t have frozen. You should have noticed earlier that you weren’t alone.

“It was more than enough,” Tommy tells you firmly. “You are more than enough. All this time, I’ve underestimated you. I thought it was you who needed protecting but now I see that I was wrong. I think maybe it was me this whole time.”

“What do you mean?”

In lieu of giving you an answer, Tommy leans in, finally closing the distance. His lips - surprisingly soft - brush over yours, a gentle caress and a silent request.

This time, you won’t hesitate. This time, you won’t freeze. Looping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself onto your tip toes and deepen the kiss, distantly wondering if he’s right.

Maybe it has been him, this whole time.

Tommy Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @simpforbuckyb @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @iammrsrogers @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy @fia-thefirst @dreamy-caramel @trixie23

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #whump #let's be alone together

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