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ichorai · 5 months

Text

weave ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; there was a rose in his hand, you realized. white, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. but it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for lucy gray. you would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. you’d also brought something for your tribute.

words ; 6.8k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury, lucky flickerman is a close family friend of reader's, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a fourth part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

It was humiliating, how nervous he was. Reaping day. The Plinth prize was just a whisper away—he could nearly taste it: phantom traces of rich chocolate and edible gold on his dry tongue.

The day before the exams, you’d pulled him into the library for one last study session. You whispered that you would botch one of your papers for him—he certainly needed the Plinth prize more than you. And though he knew that you’d be far more deserving of it (your grades were near impeccable, and impossible for him to try and compete with), he also knew that his pride wouldn’t ever recover from such a blow.

Because how could he face you after that? Knowing that he was… inferior?

And so he told you not to squander your own achievements for him—that he’d figure something out. You spared him a hesitant look, before turning back to your books.

Now that the exams were over and done with, Coriolanus briefly wondered if you went ahead and botched it anyway. An irrational sort of anger flared within his chest. Did you think you were better than him? That he was your charity case?

But all those terrible thoughts—the nastiness sweltering in his chest for days after the exams—dissolved almost immediately after seeing you.

You met him in front of the academy, your dress a lovely shade of crimson, angular at your shoulders but tapering down into flowing ripples below your waist. Like fire, almost. You were glowing, he was sure of it, with the way the sun illuminated only the best of your features—the slope of your nose, the curling of your lips, the glimmer in your eyes.

“Coriolanus,” you greeted with faux formality, tilting your head to the side. He was wearing his dress shirt again—the very one you watched Tigris mend and sew and tinker many, many times. Pinned to his waistcoat was another red rose, matching the shade of your own attire.

He mirrored you, sweeping into a low bow and brandishing another rose out of seemingly nowhere. “For you, darling. Grandma’am said she could spare it—special occasion and all.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” you said, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous pet name. It was what your parents called each other when they thought nobody was around to hear it—it made you feel old. “And tell Grandma’am thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He smiled, stepping forward to slot the rose behind your ear. “Ready for your Plinth prize?” he asked, fingers lingering by your face, thumb stroking down your jaw.

You sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it’s going to be what either of us expect.”

There was a brief pause. Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed. Had you botched your exams for him?

With a pointed glance to the academy halls, you nudged him forward. “Come on. Everyone’s already inside. Clemmie keeps asking for you.”

The two of you made your way in, weaving between red-uniformed academy students (the ones who weren’t at the very top) and professors. Behind another set of double doors were where all the top-ranking students were mingling. Sipping on bubbling glasses of colorful drinks, picking off delicate foods from ceramic plates.

While Snow was stolen away from you by a few other classmate acquaintances, Sejanus was the first to greet you, shaking your hand enthusiastically. His palms were sweating. You didn’t quite mind. “Congratulations on finishing exams, Y/N. I know how hard you’ve been studying.”

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Congrats to you, too. I’m surprised you’re here at all, actually. I know how you feel about the reaping.”

His expression faltered. “Ma made me come. Moral support for my friends, and all.”

Ma. The word sounded foreign and heavy on the tongue. Unfamiliar… but rather inviting. Homely, in a way. Despite your initial silence, you managed to recover just fine. In a lowered voice, you whispered to him, “Well, my mother thinks it’s a rather dreadful affair. A waste of potential talent, sending children to their deaths, she says. I can’t help but agree with her. Father thinks it’s necessary, though.”

Sejanus pursed his lips. No doubt questioning the necessity of watching the people he knew from his childhood in the district getting brutally murdered. It looked like he was going to say something else, but before he could, Arachne’s high-pitched voice cut through the two of you. You grimaced, catching Coriolanus’ eyes as he stood right behind her. Judging by his mildly annoyed countenance, he wasn’t having a very good time chatting to her, either.

“Spill it, Sejanus,” she demanded in a prissy tone. “Who won the prize?”

The dark curls on Sejanus’ head shook as he silently scoffed. “Oh, no, I’m not going to ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him but they do love his money… you know what that’s like, don’t you, Arachne?”

Her nose wrinkled in part-contempt, part-disgust. “Funny,” she deadpanned.

Coriolanus stepped around her so he could curl an arm over your waist. “We all know who’s going to win it, anyway.” His grip squeezed over the smooth fabric of your dress.

Arachne rolled her eyes and marched away, off to find someone else to bother.

Left with just the two of you, Sejanus dipped his head and muttered, “Look, I know you guys have had high hopes for this but… there’s no prize. Not anymore.”

There was a terse pause. Your head reared back incredulously, searching Sejanus’ expression for any signs of fibbing. Then you looked to Coriolanus, eyes wide.

“What?” he asked, words sharp, looking almost offended.

“I’m so sorry—”

Before Sejanus could finish his sentence, loud trumpets echoed throughout the hall and all the students began making their way to the plush velvet seats laid out in front of the podium. Coriolanus’ hand slipped away from you, balling into a tight, pale fist. You sat down first, Sejanus going on your right, Coriolanus to your left. Clemensia was on his other side, flashing you an attractive smile. You couldn’t find it in you to smile back.

If there was no prize, what were they going to dole out instead? A free holiday, all expenses paid? A new television? A pair of fuzzy socks?

Your rather prickly thoughts were interrupted when a woman stepped up behind the podium. She was dressed in lavish plum robes, intricate beige patterns weaving through the threads. From afar, it looked like there was flesh stitched onto the fabric. Her hair was greyed and a calculated sort of haphazard. One of her eyes was beady and blue, the other dark and large, almost eclipsing any of the white bits.

She tapped the microphone once, earning herself a buzz of feedback, and tittered with unnerving laughter. Volumnia Gaul was what she introduced herself as. Her voice was low and gravelly. When she went on to say that she was the head gamemaker, your and Coriolanus' heads both snapped to Sejanus, but his gaze was fixed onto the ground, face grim.

After a bit more faddering about the future, Dr. Gaul introduced the creator of the games and dean of the academy—Casca Highbottom. He sauntered forward from somewhere within the seats, mind very clearly addled with a drug of some sorts. Morphling, you’d wager.

“I can’t believe they still allow him to speak in public,” Clemensia said to Coriolanus amusedly. He didn’t spare her a response.

He dragged on his little speech, as if he took pleasure in dangling the golden carrot in front of the donkey. Your hands twitched in an antsy fashion, and you neatly folded them over your lap.

“My own twenty-four top prospects. All waiting to hear the results of your hard studying in this prestigious institution, eager to know who’s won that Plinth prize, no doubt. And a golden future, with it.” He catered forward with a slurred laugh. “However… I’m here to tell you all that there’s been a change this year.”

Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd. Coriolanus’ chin lifted higher, back straightening.

“One last assignment to prove your worth,” Highbottom continued on. He began to pace back and forth, reminiscent to that of a caged tiger. “The esteemed citizens of the Capitol simply aren’t watching anymore. And if the games are to continue at all, there must be an audience, no?”

More murmuring. Your eyes narrowed. Twenty-four top students… twenty-four tributes…

Oh, no.

You sucked in a quiet, barely noticeable inhale with the realization. It was enough for Coriolanus’ eyes to land on you, but you were staring at Sejanus, as if trying to get him to hear your thoughts.

Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me we won’t have to play a hand in such a barbaric game.

“Head gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to… incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you. The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades.”

For a moment, Highbottom’s gaze drifted over to you. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Arachne’s affronted, “Excuse me?”

You weren’t quite sure why she was upset. It’s not like she had a chance with the prize if it were grade-based.

“Instead, it will be decided by who is the best mentor in the hunger games.”

Your jaw clenched. Clemensia appeared bewildered. Coriolanus looked shaken. Sejanus was visibly distraught.

“As the reaping begins, I will allocate each one of the top twenty-four Capitol students a district tribute. A figure behind the scenes—one who must persuade them to perform for the cameras.”

This was met by a barrage of questions and protests from the students. Highbottom waved most of them away.

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles. Not survivors… victory in the games is only one of the considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project.”

It was a terrible thing to imagine. Two dozen district lives in exchange for a bit of cruel entertainment for the Capitol. You were never fond of it, but you kept quiet on the matter because you had the luxury of turning your head away. Turning the television off and straying away from such brutalities.

But now that you were being forced to look—no, more than that—you were being forced to pull strings, it was altogether a nauseating thought.

“Oh, and I must warn you… anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage…” Highbottom’s spectacled eyes swept over the lot of students. “Well, they’d just have no future at all.”

More trumpets rang throughout the hall.

The Dean clapped his hands together. “Here we go! Let the reaping ceremony begin!”

Two large screens hanging over the podium lit up for the first district—a tall boy on the left, a sallow-faced girl on the right. Dean Highbottom began to list off student names as mentors.

To none of your surprise, Sejanus got the male tribute from district two. Coriolanus shot him a thinly-veiled, wry smile over your shoulder. “You got the pick of the litter.”

Sejanus refused to meet his gaze. “You forget… I’m part of the litter.”

On the names rattled—districts three, four, five, six, and seven all passing by in a blur.

Juno Phipps was called out for district eight’s male tribute. She sat somewhere behind you, and you could hear her puff a sigh of disappointment.

Then your name came straight after.

Your head snapped from Highbottom to the screen, eyes widening.

Wovey, her name was. She was a small little thing—you could see her frail, skeletal figure even through a grainy screen from afar. The striped dress she wore was patchy and frayed, darkened with soot and dirt. How old was she? She was probably one of the youngest tributes yet—you’d guess that she was barely thirteen, maybe even twelve. Something in your stomach jolted. Momentarily, you’d forgotten that this little girl was meant to be your school project.

District eight. The textiles sector. You blinked at the screen and shifted uncomfortably in your expensive-tailored dress—a dress that very likely came from the very same district.

Highbottom called out names for the next district. Clemensia was pleased with her large, burly tribute from the eleventh district. Coriolanus was yet to be mentioned. You glanced over at him, before reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t look at you, but squeezed your palm in what you read to be silent gratitude.

And finally—with only one tribute left, Highbottom coughed out what sounded to be a laugh. “The runt girl from district twelve… she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

The grip he had on your hand tightened until it was bordering on painful. You said nothing about it. Highbottom had always been a grouchy man, but he seemed to have a fixation on making Coriolanus’ life as tormentable as possible.

Lucy Gray Baird.

You watched the screen in fascination when a woman sauntered out from the ranks. Her hair was dark and curly, unruly in a way that suited her perfectly. Upon further scrutiny, you noticed small wildflowers woven through the strands, limp with time. She wore makeup, which wasn’t something you often saw in tributes. A deep blue eyeshadow and slightly-smudged rouge on her cheeks and lips. But what really caught your attention, however, was the dress she was wearing. It was a startling contrast to her name—with its bright, colorful ruffles on her skirt, the front of her corset bearing lovely details of flowers and vines.

She was beautiful.

“What is that dress?” sneered Arachne, in an obvious attempt to rile Coriolanus up. “Is she some sort of clown?”

But suddenly, Lucy Gray stepped out of her path towards the stage and grabbed a girl to her right. Or, more accurately, the girl’s collar. She promptly dropped something down her dress and hurried off. Screams erupted from the screen as the girl writhed with terror, screaming for someone to, “Get it out! Get it out!”

Coriolanus stood abruptly, letting your hand go. You hadn’t noticed just how much feeling you’d lost in your arm, and gingerly shook it back to life.

The grainy screen showed a small snake skitter out of the bottom of her dress.

When Lucy Gray finally made it up on the stage, she was harshly struck across the face by district twelve’s mayor. The blow made her head crack to the side and she went tumbling down. You frowned, but couldn’t take your eyes away.

It took two peacekeepers to haul the furious mayor away. You mutely realized that the girl was the mayor’s daughter.

Lucy Gray laid there, face aching.

And then—singing. A small voice from within the crowd. Five seconds later, another joined. And another, and another. Even through the screen, when Lucy Gray tilted her bruised face up and struggled back onto her feet, you could see the pain in her eyes. Was that her family singing for her?

The woman made her way to the microphone. She began to sing with a quivering lip. Her voice was soft and smooth, silken to your ears.

“She’s singing?” Arachne commented in a pinched tone. “Is she out of her mind?”

“Shut up, Arachne,” you turned to snap at her. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, but didn’t say anything else, to your relief.

Coriolanus watched the screen with unsettled eyes. A million thoughts rushed through his mind at once. Most unpleasant, many rageful, some curious.

And to bring her singing to a sudden halt, Lucy Gray screamed into the microphone.

“YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!”

The students burst into laughter, incredulous gasps, and scandalized murmurs. Coriolanus glanced around. He met your eyes, and you gave him half an amused smile. His tribute knew how to put on a show, that was for sure.

He smiled back, and turned to the screen once more.

Lucy Gray lowered herself into a deep bow for the audience. District and Capitol alike.

What an intriguing girl, you thought.

“She’s mentally ill,” Arachne buzzed.

It took every bit of your willpower not to turn around and strike her across the face. But you thought back to the furious mayor, and of the little girl you were supposed to mentor, and kept your hands folded neatly over your lap.

You found yourself at the Snow penthouse that night. There was nothing to study, not anymore, so you lounged on a rickety chair and watched Tigris sew together pieces of blue fabric. She wanted to make you a dress, and though you had more than enough of your own, you couldn’t ever say no to her. Being around her took your mind off of the games, even for just a few minutes.

Coriolanus, however, was pacing back and forth in front of the two of you. Muttering angrily under his breath, nose twitching with disdain.

“He’s sabotaging us. That girl’s never going to win the games,” he hissed, plucking the rose off of his waistcoat and tugging at its petals. They fluttered down to the floor. “You saw her, didn’t you? She’s underfed. Unstable.”

Pot, meet kettle.

You pursed your lips. “Highbottom said you’re meant to make a performance out of them. It isn’t just about winning.”

“Everything is about winning!” he asserted, carding a frustrated hand through his flaxen tresses. “If not the games, then the crowd. And Lucy Gray won’t survive a minute inside that arena.”

You sighed. Little Wovey didn’t seem too likely to survive, either. She wasn’t a fighter by any means. Maybe she was a fast runner?

“So that means we have to make every second before then count.” Coriolanus reached out to cup your face, and you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. Tigris shot the two of you a side glance and smiled to herself.

“What’re you planning?” you asked.

“I’ll make her sing again,” he said, sounding so sure of himself.

This made Tigris’ brows cinch together. “I wouldn’t sing a note for you if I was her. I wouldn’t do anything at all… not unless I knew I could trust you.”

Coriolanus regarded his cousin with a cynical stare. “She’s district, Tigris. She knows we hate her and she wants us dead. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

“We?” you echoed, shaking your head. “I don’t hate her. I don’t even know her. Do you?”

“I—”

You lifted up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Do you know her, Coriolanus?”

His jaw set with a click. You had your answer.

“How can you hate someone you don’t know? Look, you don’t have to like her. Just convince her that you do.” You crossed your arms, thinking of the little girl you were meant to mentor. It was going to be hard to like her, anyway, knowing that she was going to die soon. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached.

Tigris nodded emphatically. She paused her needlework and looked up at her cousin. “Imagine it was your name they pulled, and you were ripped from your home. I’d just want to know if somebody still cared about me out here. Don’t discount her just because she’s district, Coryo. You might have more in common with her than you think.”

Coriolanus plucked the last rose petal from the stem. You watched him with soft eyes, before drawing yourself up to your feet.

“I think it’s time I head home. My family’s got dinner with the Flickermans tomorrow.” You placed a limp hand on his jaw and kissed his cheek, then drifted down to kiss his shoulder. He smelled distinctly of roses—a fresh sort of musk.

Just as you were about to pull away, he rested his hands on your forearms, rooting you to the same spot. “We should greet them at the station. Show them that they can trust us.”

You searched his face for genuinity. It wasn’t an entirely terrible idea.

“You sure?” you asked. It wasn’t a secret just how uncomfortable Coriolanus was around district folk.

“Yeah. We can… get ahead of the other students. You’re way more approachable than me, anyway. Maybe they’ll like you more,” Snow offered. A part of you wondered what he’d do if you said no.

The thought of meeting your assigned tribute made your stomach do somersaults. Finally, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the station, then?”

Snow smiled in a charming manner. He dipped forward to slant his lips over yours, and you melted into his touch, almost forgetting that Tigris was there—until she made a noise of disgust and told the two of you, “Eugh! Do that somewhere else, please!”

Coriolanus was there before you, sticking out like a sore thumb in his academy red against the cold, rusted metals of the train cars. You wore a dark coat over your uniform, trying to look a little more discreet.

“Are they here yet?” you asked, steps quickening to him. He took your hand and squeezed.

“Anytime now.”

The two of you stood shoulder-to-shoulder as you waited, exchanging light conversation. There was a rose in his hand, you realized. White, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. But it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for Lucy Gray. You would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. Still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. You’d also brought something for your tribute.

A juice box. Grape. Still cold, beading with condensation.

You wondered if they had juice boxes out in district eight.

Another train rolled to a grueling halt to the track on your left. The cars were due for a good scrubbing, you thought. They were absurdly filthy—you weren’t even sure what its original color was meant to be.

Peacekeepers stepped up, disregarding the two of you, and began yanking the doors open. There were disgruntled noises coming from inside, and a few minutes later, the grey soldiers were pulling out the tributes.

You searched through the small crowd frantically. The boy from 11th—Reaper, you recalled his name was—caught your eye and just about snarled. You tried your best to ignore him.

When you found the little girl, little Wovey, you slipped away from Coriolanus and stepped forward. In your peripheral vision, you spotted him moving towards Lucy Gray.

Wovey was staring at a particularly uninteresting spot on the ground. She had her skinny arms wound around her midriff as if she was cold, despite the warm temperature that morning. When your shadow fell over her, her large, tearful eyes slid up to meet yours.

“Hello, Wovey,” you whispered in what you hoped was a welcoming, not-at-all-intimidating voice. You told her your name, making sure to enunciate the syllables slowly, so she’d have no problem repeating it back. She didn’t, but perhaps she would later. “I’m your mentor.”

“Mender?” Her voice quaked.

“Mentor. I’ll be helping you in the arena, during the game. Here, I have something for you.” You reached inside your coat, eyeing the peacekeepers warily. Either they didn’t notice, or they were just pretending not to. You wondered how many of them knew your father. “Do you guys have juice boxes back where you live?”

You held out the cold little box for her to take. She blinked at it warily.

“It’s grape,” you said.

She reached out and took it from you. You offered her a gentle smile, and she mirrored you with a shy grin.

“Can I share it?” she croaked. Wovey looked back at the male tribute from the same district—Bobbin. Were they friends?

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly.

Sweetheart? Where’d that come from?

The peacekeepers began rounding up the tributes, shoving them in the direction of a truck. You dipped your head at one of the grey soldiers as he took Wovey’s arm.

“Be gentle with her,” you told the peacekeeper. He met you with a stoic expression, but nodded once, before urging Wovey onward.

It was hard to tear your eyes away from her, but you forced yourself to do so, bounding towards Coriolanus and—

“Lucy Gray,” you greeted, just before saying your own name as you moved to stand beside Snow. Her dress looked even brighter in person, even if it was caked in filth. “I hope Coriolanus hasn’t scared you off yet.”

“Who’s this?” she asked, her dark eyes flitting from Snow to you. “Another mentor?”

“Mmh. Not yours though. I’m dedicated to the little girl from district eight,” you replied.

There was something in her eyes that softened.

“You’ll take care of her?” she asked.

You exchanged an uncertain glance with Coriolanus. “I’ll try my best to. Just like my boyfriend here for you.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Y’all make an attractive couple, that’s for sure.” Lucy Gray smiled, wide and genuine. It faded instantaneously once she spotted a peacekeeper approaching. She plucked the rose from Coriolanus’ unsuspecting hands. “Well… good luck with that.”

The soldier grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the direction of the car.

Coriolanus stepped forward. “Wait, no—I, hey, I’d like to escort my tribute—”

They all ignored him. You pursed your lips, before following behind two of the soldiers, peeking around the bend. The truck’s doors were wide open for you to slip into. Snow met your eyes when you beckoned him over.

“We can sneak in,” you whispered. “When they’re not looking.”

“Are you insane? We don’t know where they’re going!” he responded in a lowered voice, taking your arm, not unsimilar to how the peacekeepers grabbed the tributes. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“They won’t hurt me,” you told him. It didn’t dawn on you that Coriolanus was referring to the district tributes, not the peacekeepers. Quick and chaste, you pressed a kiss to his lips. “You coming?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He blew out a frustrated breath, before letting you go and giving you the green light by motioning for you to get a move on. Nerves peaking with adrenaline, you glanced around again, satisfied that no peacekeepers were looking, and rushed into the truck. You felt Coriolanus’ chest brush against your back as he hurried in after you.

You hid in the shadows of the trucks’ slants just as the peacekeepers slammed it shut. A victorious smile stretched your lips thin. You made it.

Oh, your father was going to murder you. Snow first, maybe, and then you. Your mother would probably find the situation all too funny. Though, as you found all the tributes’ eyes locked on you and Coriolanus, you realized that it probably wasn’t funny at all, not in the slightest.

“Hello,” you said in an awfully wavering voice. Coriolanus echoed your sentiment, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What’s the matter, pretty boy?” Reaper asked him with a scowl. “You in the wrong cage?”

“No,” he responded with a minute shrug. “This cage is delightful.”

The truck practically swayed as Reaper stormed closer to him. You instinctively grabbed his forearm, pulling him back. But clearly not quick enough, seeing as Reaper grabbed the lapels of Snow’s academy uniform, shoving him up against the wall with a loud thud. Coriolanus let out an oomf with the impact, blinking sudden white stars out of his vision.

“I’ll kill you right now!” Reaper hissed.

“He’ll do it, too,” warned Dill. The girl from his same district. “Reaper killed a peacekeeper back in eleven.”

“I say we kill them both!” another tribute from somewhere behind sneered.

“I’m in. Nothing left to lose now.”

You stood frozen, afraid that one wrong move would send Reaper into a frenzy. Instead, you spoke calm and clear, “We’re here to help.” Your eyes found Lucy Gray’s, then traveled over to Wovey, squeezed in the corner. “We want to help you.”

Crossing her arms, Lucy Gray said, “Y’all got family back home? They’ll kill them if you hurt a hair on their pretty Capitol heads. Then you. ‘Sides… the blonde one’s my mentor. I might need him.”

One of the tributes from district four curled her lip in contempt. “How come you get one?”

“You all get one!” Snow told her, which earned him another enraged shove by Reaper.

She guffawed—Coral, yes, that was her name—with incredulity. “What, and we’re just supposed to believe you?”

“Why else would we get in here with you?” you said, exasperated. “We don’t even know where they’re taking you guys.”

Coral cocked a brow so high it nearly disappeared behind her choppy bangs. “Whose mentor are you?”

You limply waved your fingers at Wovey. “District eight’s girl.”

“So how come Skinny and Rainbow get special treatment? Why aren’t my mentors here?” Coral leaned down towards Lucy Gray in a taunting fashion, barely glancing over at Wovey.

Lucy Gray smiled, all toothy. “They just got inspired, I guess.”

A moment later, a loud rumbling came from outside the truck. Had they already arrived? There was a whir, and the whole truck began to tilt downward. The doors swung open and shocked gasps echoed throughout the metal cavern.

Reaper relinquished his grip on Snow to grab hold of Dill, and you launched yourself at Coriolanus, trying your best to grapple onto the grooves in the walls so you wouldn’t slip. Lucy Gray yelled as her foot slipped and she went toppling down—

You grabbed her hand, grunting with the combined weight of two people. Coriolanus’ grip on the wall slipped, and he bumped into you, causing your fingers to fumble.

The three of you went rolling down, out of the truck, back into the blinding sunlight. Your shoulder hit the ground hard, another sharp rock digging painfully into your back. That’d definitely bruise later. Disoriented, you dragged yourself up from the ground, frowning at the stinging sensation in your legs. Coriolanus was next to you the next second, grabbing at your face and arms, asking if you were alright. You nodded a few times, before pushing him away to see if the tributes were okay.

All of them were dizzy and aching, but other than that—seemed just fine. Or, as fine as they could be, given the circumstances.

Only then did you look around your surroundings. Metal fencing, dirt pen, discarded tires—Capitol citizens watching with wide, curious eyes. You caught sight of the Capitol Zoo’s insignia on an ice cream stand just past the fencing.

“Ugh,” Coriolanus muttered, pale blonde hair properly tousled over his forehead. “What are all these people doing, staring at us? Don’t they have anything better to do? Don’t they have jobs? The children should be in school. It’s no wonder this country is in shambles.”

“The kids are on summer break, Coryo,” you deadpanned, shirking off your dark coat to give it a good dusting.

Then, a familiar voice made your head snap towards the crowd.

Cameras. Mustache. Coin flip.

“We’ll just give them a chance to stand up and catch their breath—I do have to admit I’m jealous of that big entrance! I’m Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, a man who needs no introduction.”

Oh, he certainly didn’t. He and your mother were tight-knit buddies when they went to school together, making the Flickermans good family friends. This was beyond embarrassing.

“Guess where I am today, folks! That’s right, the Capitol Zoo, where this year’s tributes will be held here, on display behind these bars for your viewing pleasure! That’s right, all twenty-four of them—” That was when he turned to point, and his eyes landed on you and Coriolanus. His words faltered. “What in Panem—is that academy rouge I see?”

You stiffly waved at the camera. Absent-mindedly, you passed a hand over your head to fix your hair.

“Hey, Mr. Flickerman,” you called out with a grimace.

Lucky’s eyes bugged out of his head. He exclaimed your name in part-confusion, part-shock. “Hey, what’re you doing in there, kiddo? Who’s that dashing young man with you? We’re live!” He jutted a thumb back at the camera, its lens facing straight at you.

You spared him a stiff smile, eye twitching. Oh, your father was going to pop a blood vessel, you were sure.

“Uhm… well, uh—” The words caught in your throat and you lowered your voice so only Coriolanus could hear you. You had to ignore Lucky’s constant calls for your attention. “What do we do?”

His blue eyes, even paler in the bright sunlight, roamed over the onlookers. “We do what Highbottom told us to do,” he said, rolling his shoulders. He nudged you in the direction of Wovey, and began setting off for Lucy Gray. “We put on a show.”

You watched as the two, mentor and tribute, made their way to the fencing. As if there was a flip of a switch inside him, Coriolanus began to charm the onlookers and children, showing off his pearly whites, introducing himself and his rambunctious tribute. The children were enamoured with Lucy Gray, it seemed, judging by the way they bubbled over with questions about the snake, her colorful dress, her singing.

Lucky was having the time of his life interviewing them. If not for the current situation at hand—that being you trapped in a zoo enclosure—you would’ve laughed at his earnest excitement. Being a weatherman, a reporter, and an amateur-magician was apparently growing far too monotonous for someone with as large a personality as Lucretius Flickerman.

After much deliberation and cheek-biting, you turned and made your way toward Wovey, who was sitting down next to Bobbin on a tree stump. You noted the purple juice box, now crumpled and empty, discarded on the ground between them.

“Hey, guys,” you said, lowering down to one knee to speak to Wovey. “Do you want to go introduce yourself, sweetheart? Win over the Capitol citizens’ hearts?”

The young girl screwed up her face. Whether it was from shyness or distaste, you weren’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“I’ll be there with you. I promise,” you told her, holding your palm out for her to take.

Tentative, Wovey slipped off of the stump and clutched onto your hand. The two of you approached the barriers, with her nearly hiding behind you, clutching onto your coat.

Lucy Gray told the growing audience about her Covey family, a group of traveling musicians, and how she wasn’t actually from district twelve. Snow watched her with a somewhat proud, victorious expression.

Lucky noticed you approaching, beckoning for the cameras to follow him as he made his way over to you.

Quickly, he covered the top of the mic to lean forward and whisper, “Is the academy aware of what you’re doing?”

“No. Nobody told us not to, though.”

Lucky regarded you knowingly. “And does your father know about this little escapade of yours?”

“No,” you replied, frown-smiling.

“Ooh. Good luck with that.” He spared you an amused wince. Then, he uncovered the microphone and gave the cameras another brilliant smile, introducing you with a flourish of his hands. “I’m here with a close personal friend of mine, Y/N L/N. And here we have their tribute, yes? Who might you be, young lady?”

You tried your best to encourage Wovey out of her shyness, going so far as to pat her shoulder and to gently push back the thin strands of hair falling in front of her face. She croaked out her name and her district, and Lucky asked her another myriad of overwhelming questions.

Whilst the crowd around the ever-charming Lucy Gray was watching her with curiosity and awe, the audience you were gathering looked upon Wovey with pity and something mildly akin to empathy.

There were perks to getting the youngest tribute, maybe.

She was telling them about how she liked to climb trees back in district eight. Yes, that’d be useful in the games.

You looked over to see Coriolanus observing you with your tribute. He gave you a nod, perhaps a second too late. The man found himself wondering if he could somehow garner the crowd’s sympathy using Lucy Gray, too. How’d you manage to do that?

Before he could spare another thought on the matter, there was a dim buzzing coming from across the enclosure. A door opened, and four peacekeepers marched in.

“Looks like you’re going to get whisked away, kiddo,” Lucky told you, nodding behind. “Tell your mother I said hello. And make sure to take a nice, long shower before dinner tonight. Don’t want the smell of zoo hovering over my steak.”

You rolled your eyes as Lucky chuckled at his own quips, then looked down at Wovey with a far softer expression.

“I’ll be back. I’ll come back with more for you. Just hold on for me, okay?”

The frail girl nodded. She didn’t seem to want to let go of you, even when the peacekeepers began to semi-forcefully lead you away, out of the enclosure. Coriolanus wasn’t far behind, being manhandled far more aggressively than you were.

The soldiers shoved you out the door and shut it with a heavy click of a lock, before marching off to the sides.

Coriolanus reached out for you, hands resting on your elbows. “How was it?”

“Could’ve gone worse.” You studied his features. There was a faint trace of dirt smudged across his jaw—no doubt acquired somewhere in the truck or when everyone came tumbling out.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer, until you shook your head and broke into a smile, accompanied by a breathy laugh.

“Lucky called you a dashing young man.”

“He’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, and tugged you along to start walking. “Do you think either of us have a chance? At winning?”

The smile melted off your expression, and you grew somber once more. “Well… anything can happen in the arena. We just need to be smart about it. Neither of our tributes are fighters.”

Coriolanus stared off into the distance, brows cinched, heavy with thought.

“They’ll need to be,” he said. “Surviving isn’t enough. Not in these games.”

Your lips parted, wondering what in Panem he could mean by that. Did he really expect Lucy Gray to become a killer overnight? Or was he planning for her to do something else? He didn’t seem to notice your perturbed disposition, and kissed the side of your head.

Just as Coriolanus walked you to your doorstep, you gripped his hands, and your tone suddenly became very serious.

“I just wanted to tell you—before Highbottom announced the mentoring change, I was sure one of us would win the Plinth prize. And, well, I was going to give you the money if it came to me because I definitely wouldn’t need it. But now, since there’s a good chance neither of us are getting it…”

Snow’s features twisted with evident dismay.

You squeezed his hands with yours. “I can get my parents to pay your university tuition, if neither of us get that Plinth prize. Please, Coryo, don’t take this as charity. Take it because I care about you. I don’t want you to get caught up in… winning these games. Whatever you’re planning for Lucy Gray… I can’t see it being anything she’d be willing to do.”

It might’ve been a trick of light, but you could’ve sworn you saw an irksome glint flash across his eyes. He bitterly came to the conclusion that you probably did botch one of your exams for him—not that that mattered now. Besides, it was you offering money, not him begging for it. The placating thought made it easier for his features to slip into a reassuring, easy softness.

“I appreciate the offer, I really do,” Snow said, cradling your face as if you were a fragile piece of china. Yet his touch felt bruising all the same. “But you shouldn’t worry. I don’t think Lucy Gray is going to win. Not on her own, at least. So I’m going to help her—and Highbottom is going to regret ever trying to make an enemy of me.”

He dipped forward, brushed a whisper of a kiss along your cheek, and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip.

And then he was gone.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst

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3d-wifey · 8 months

Text

NSFT Alphabet: MK1 Johnny Cage Edition

A/N: Wrote this to hold you Johnny girls (gender neutral) over until I finish that smut 😙 Plus, I find writing these Alphabets for a character in preparation to write full-fledged smut for them is very helpful in capturing accurate characterization. It's almost like a writing exercise. I've written three different ones so far and I tried to keep them in character, if that makes sense. Like, I tried putting their personality and language in it. Okay, enjoy.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Talking. So much talking. But, honestly, did you expect anything else? As he’s pulling out, as he’s carrying you to the shower, as you’re washing his hair. And when it inevitably leads to shower sex, he’s talking then too. You’ll never meet a man who loves the sound of his own voice more than Johnny Cage.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Uh, how ‘bout the artillery canons strapped to his arms? C’mon, I mean, who wouldn’t want a ticket to the gun show?

Face. Is saying your face too cliche? Hear him out! You want specifics? He can do specifics! He likes the dimples that pop in your cheeks when he finally gets you to laugh at one of his jokes, the little crease you get between your eyebrows when he’s pissed you off, the adorable way your nose scrunches up when he does that one thing with his tongue that drives you crazy. See? Specifics!

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Pull out game…very weak. Embarrassingly weak, actually. He swears he’s never had this problem before. His ability to pull out in the nick of time has always been something he’s prided himself on. However, he vastly underestimated just how good you’d feel. He’s clean, you’re clean, and, hey! You both prefer the feeling of hitting it raw, the way nature intended it. However, your pussy’s like wet kryptonite. And he’s only a man. A very awesome man, but a man nonetheless. So birth control it is! Or, if you’re turned off by all the side effects, he can be talked into a vasectomy. It’s either that or give up the sweet, sweet embrace of your walls when he’s balls deep.

On second thought, that vasectomy sounds pretty tempting. It is reversible, right?

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Johnny would leak his own sex tape. Plain and simple. He’d leak it from a burner account and watch the chaos ensue. There’s no shame in his game. Hey, it’s ranked the Number 1 Celebrity sex tape for a reason.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Is this even a question? Actors, singers, models, directors, producers. He’s THE Johnny Cage, Hollywood royalty. He’s fucked actual royalty. You’re in good hands—as long as he cares about you. If you’re a random hookup, then he’s not really working for your pleasure here. You’ll definitely cum, but it’s mainly a pit stop on his way to the finish line.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Reverse cowgirl. Johnny’s an ass man, through and through. He loves fucking up into you and watching your ass ripple with both of your movements. And he loves holding onto you. Big hands grabbing your waist, hips, thighs, and especially your ass. He also loves seeing you both in action. So reverse cowgirl + some artfully placed full-length mirrors = Him wrapping his arms around your stomach, rubbing at your clit, and forcing you to watch yourself as you desperately grind against him, AKA Heaven.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, c’mon. It isn’t like him to be serious in any situation. He’s gotta slip a joke in every now and then. Get it? Slip a joke in?

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Wax on, wax off, baby. Smoother than a seal. Or, uh, some other sexy, hairless animal. You mourn when he waxes his happy trail.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

You’ll be surprised by how charming he can be. It’s not all jokes and great orgasms. It’s also loving touches, reverent compliments, and amazing orgasms.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He’s got a healthy libido and a pretty stacked schedule, so sometimes a quick introduction between his hand and mini Johnny can’t be helped. But he’s also got a smoking hot girlfriend (you), so jerking off by himself is a rare occurrence.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Exhibitionism. What can he say? He’s a performer at heart and he loves an audience. But nothing crazy, just your average celebrity having sex on a yacht that’s in full view of the paparazzi. Or the occasional jerking off with you telling him how fast or slow to go. Oh, and you can’t forget about the sex tapes. Man, with the amount of videos he has of the two of you going at it, he could start an archive. You two have definitely ended up on the cover of TMZ and the front page of Twitter.

Voyeurism. But only for you. He’s enthralled by anything you do, including how many of your much smaller fingers will you stuff inside yourself to replicate the feeling of him stretching you wide. It usually leads to you begging for him to touch you, something else he’s in love with. Nothing wrong with a little hands-on audience participation.

Dirty talk. Normally, dirty talk is kind of basic to any old romp in the hay, but Johnny, being Johnny, puts his own Cage flair on it. Those corny oneliners somehow translate to the perfect thing to say to get you hot. He’s like Shakespear, if Shakespear was good-looking and not a virgin. You know what they say: everything sounds better when you’re horny. Who says that? Uh…

Fighting/Sparing which always leads to blood play. Winning a match gets Johnny’s blood pumping. The adrenaline of escaping death and the crowd hyping him up. And the crux of it all is you who happens to get especially wet when he comes to you covered in blood, grinning with a glint in his eyes that’s poorly hidden behind his blood-speckled sunglasses (a glint that many may describe as mania). And it certainly goes the other way. Watching you kick ass makes him harder than a diamond. Sparing together is a no-brainer that leads to fucking on his gym floor, or, honestly, wherever you two fall. Lui Kang must regret making you two his champions in this timeline with how often he’s walked in on you two. Offering to let him join probably doesn’t soften the blow, but, hey, it’s only polite.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In his mansion. In one of his lavish beds, or pressed up against the wall-length windows. In his Bentley or in the back of his limo. He’s a big fan of fingering you under the table at an award show and then fucking you in a bathroom at said award show when he should definitely be on stage presenting. For whatever reason, walking the red carpet always gets him worked up. And going to the club together always ends with you riding him in the VIP section.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Such a complex question for a man with complex taste. I’m joking, Johnny is so easy. It’s actually ridiculous how easily you turn him on. Laugh at his joke, hard. Complement his acting or fighting, hard. Running your fingers through his hair/scratching his scalp, hard. Feel him up/tease him in any context, hard. You’re covered in blood after a win, hard, hard, rock hard.

“Are you King Midas? Cuz you make me hard with just one touch.”

“That one was actually kinda clever.”

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing too gross. He’s all for sloppy, messy sex, but he has to draw the line somewhere. There’s nasty 👁🫦👁 and there’s n a s t y 👁👄👁.

He likes to tease/do the opposite of what you say, but if you’re not 100% on board with what he’s doing, then he’s stopping it then and there. Remember: there’s nothing sexier than explicit consent!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preferred to receive before he started dating you, and only ever had the urge to go down on someone if he had been drinking before. After you started dating, he definitely loved it whenever you gave him head, but he didn’t realize how much pleasure he could get from giving you pleasure.

He loves sloppy head, giving and receiving, so if you weren’t wet before, you definitely will be after he gets his mouth on you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on when and where you’re doing it. And if you two are “allowed” to be doing it in said place.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fan of the guy who came up with the idea of quickies, enough said.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

C’mon. He’s the leading source of your sex tapes getting leaked. I mean, how do you think the paps keep finding you in compromising positions? A little tip-off to them while you take his tip, ha!

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

It’s like he runs off horsepower, good God. If you’re trying to go until he’s tired out, it’s gonna be a couple of rounds until then.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s a fan of dildos. Specifically, watching you fuck yourself with one. “Go ahead, baby. Show me how bad you want me.” And show him, you do. God, you know how to put on a show. But you shouldn’t have to settle for some random dildo. You’re with the Cage man, and he would get a mold of his dick made for you. And they say he’s not romantic.

Strap-on. That’s it. And he takes it well ;).

Remote-controlled vibrators, for you and him. Hell, let’s make a game out of it. See who can last the longest in public, there are no losers!

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

His version of teasing is doing the opposite of what you said to do. You want him to speed up? He’s slowing down and making sure you feel every inch inside you. Oh, keep his hands above his head? You gonna make him? He’s a total brat, but you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to date him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heh, yeahhh. He’s real loud. Moans, groans, screams, whimpers. You name it, he’s doing it. It’s the performer in him. And because he knows you like how he sounds.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Tattoos? Sexy as hell. If you were to ever get his name tattooed on you (preferably a tramp stamp), then you might as well start planning what flowers you want in your bouquet. I could see him getting your name tattooed on him too. Probably on his pelvis, in the middle of his v-line. In case anyone ever needs a reminder of who his dick belongs to.

Type of guy to dedicate a Mortal Kombat match to you, and then lose. Ah, I’m joking. He’d beat his opponent’s ass all because you promised him victory sex if he won and he doesn’t take victory sex lightly.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s got an 8.5–8.9 inch hog, shower not a grower. Little Johnny isn’t so little. There’s a reason he’s alright with doing full-frontal nudity if the scene calls for it. They’ve had to CG out his bulge in post-production in every Ninja Mime movie. It’s not his fault spandex happens to be the clingiest material known to man.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Higher than Mount Fuji. He’s a stallion in his prime with a gorgeous girlfriend. His spare time is filled with filling you. And you both tend to feed off of each other, so all it takes is for one of you to be the tiniest bit turned on, and then, boom! You’re both desperately grinding against each other in a supply closet. Ain’t that just the way?

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Depends. He’s kind of like a dog that needs to tire himself out before he can sleep.

Click for a Johnny Cage-shaped surprise👀👀

#johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk1 johnny cage #johnny cage smut #johnny cage mortal kombat #mk 2023 #mk smut #mortalkombat #mortal kombat 1 #nsft alphabet #realized i needed to change that W to a T in the title if i wanted this to get any traffic lmao

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ratskinsuit · 2 months

Note

Hiii!

Would it be okay to request a Lucifer x Imp!fem!reader? I was thinking something about the reader being insecure about dating Lucifer (either due to the vast difference in social ranking and/or the fact that the reader is short while Lilith was a tall woman) and he comforts her? If not, that’s okay!

Thank you!

My Other Half

Lucifer x Imp fem!Reader

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A/N: I’m so so sorry this took so long to get out. Yk the usual depression and writers block and adhd blah blah blah blah blah. I wrote the end to this at like 3am and was tryna not cry because random depression go brrrrr. Hope you enjoyed though and arnt go mad this took so long!

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Every year, since Lucifer’s falling from heaven, He has hosted a gathering of the finest and most powerful beings in hell, of eating and socializing, a sorrei. Filled with gorgeous women and handsome men, the delicious aroma of hundreds of plates of food wading through the area. Demons laughing and chatting with one another. dressed in the fanciest of suits and gowns. All of them having some high status of power compared to the other, more common folk of the streets.

Even in his depression, Lucifer had still continued to host these parties, yet he had enjoyed none of it. However this was the first time in 7 years that he had someone to bring to it, you, his girlfriend.

You two originally met when you started working for him as an advisor. His work preformence dwindling with his mental health. So Charlie hired you to go help him with his work and choices. And eventually you tow became closer, the relationship no longer being boss and employee.

When hell found out that the Lucifer, the king, started dating an imp, people had some… mixed opinions. The lower class saw it as Lucifer possibly trying to be inclusive, or making fun of them, while th uppers saw it as an embarrassment. Lucifer payed no mind to these comments, and you tried your best not to, but sometimes they got to you.

Your infront of the mirror in your shared bedroom, adjusting your dress. Your weaning a short sleeved red dress with a slit in the side and a V neckline. It goes down to your ankles. Your wearing fishnet stokings with a pair of dark black heels and a matching obsidian necklace.

You brush through your hair with your fingers, and see in the mirror Lucifer entering the room. He looks you up and down and smiles, walking over to you. He’s wearing a white suit with red accents, his red tie, darker than the accent, not yet done. His hair slicked back in a professional manner.

“You look absolutely gorgeous darling,” He coos, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind and looking in your eyes in the mirror.

You smile, turning around to look him in the eyes, stroking his cheek. “Not so bad yourself Mr.Devil.” You smirk, fixing some fo his smudged eyeliner on the corner of his eyes . “Only for you my love.” He replies.

He blushes a bit, and you lean forward to give him a quick kiss. It lasts a couple seconds before you pull away pulling a disappointed whine from Lucifer. You snicker, reaching at his chest to do his tie. You smoothly tie it up, adjusting it once done and taking a step back “Perfect.” You smile.

Lucifer positions himself next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, intertwining his right hand with yours. “Ready to go darling?” He asks, kissing your hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The walk down to the banquet hall was pleasant. Not to far from your rooms. Making sense as it’s in the same building. As you two approach, the sound of laughing and conversing grows louder.

At last you two arrive, Lucifer opening the big doors. Everyone turns to him, feeling slightly awkward you scoot a bit behind him. Everyone claps as Lucifer welcomes and thanks everyone for coming.

You study everyone around, feeling out of place surrounded by all these high-class demons. As he finishes his welcoming, you two begin to walk around, Lucifer greeting people as you stand there, next to him. Trying to ignore the judgemental stares of others around you.

As Lucifer chats with other people, they completely ignore your presence, making you feel invisible. You honestly don’t know whether or not to be happy about it though.

After a little bit you and Lucifer are approached by a fancy looking lady. She has bird like features and is wearing a beautiful long dress. Her top is short, white fading to pink, with short puffy sleeves. Her skirt is long and flowing, 3 layered with a feather like texture. The top an off white with a black trim, the second bright white, and the third black layer. All tied together with a bright yellow tiara on her head.

“Lucifer, darling! How have you been?” She comes up, and Lucifer turns to her with a smile as they hug. “Ah Stella, great to see you as always!” He says, pulling back, fixing his shirt.

“Marvelous party, as always my lord.” She smiles, her posture and appearance full of grace, subconsciously making you straighten your own back. “Thank you Stella, I try.” Lucifer laughs, turning to you.

“My dear this is Stella, one of the Goetia Royalty,” he says, waving towards at Stella. You give her a polite smile, ignoring the way her face scrunches up at you. “Very nice to meet you, I love your dress.” You say, complimenting her, but she looks you up and down, judgmentally.

“I didn’t know that the staff was allowed to attend these types of events,” She says slyly, turning to Lucifer. You frown at her comment, wondering if you did something wrong. Lucifer. however just let’s out a chuckle, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Ah well no, but she isn’t actually a worker, this is my girlfriend.” He says, an unmoving smile present on his face.

Stella looks you up and down for a moment before bursting out laughing. She cackles for a moment before calming down and taking deep breath, wiping the tears from under her eyes. “Is..something funny?” Lucifer asks, raising an eyebrow at he behavior.

“You know, if I knew you were that desperate for a partner, I could have set you up with someone. I have loads of hot first-rate friends who you would just adore,” she says, shooting a quick glare in your direction, Lucifer didn’t quite catch; his smile faltering at her words.

“I appreciate it Stella but I’m very happy with who I am with right now.” He says, squeezing your waist. “Well if you ever change your mind just let me know.” She says, glancing at you one last time before wandering off to a group of other people.

As soon as she turns Lucifer looks at you, and you look at him, trying to conceal the sad look in your eyes. “I’m so so sorry about that, she can be a real drama starter sometimes, are you okay love?” He asks, searching you face. “Yeah, I’m used to it don’t worry.” You say, a smile on your face, trying to get past what happened. Lucifer squeezes your shoulder.

“Why don’t we go get some food for now?” He asks, and you nod, the two of you heading to get something to eat.

As you spent more time conversing at the party, you grew more comfortable, and tried to ignore the stares and whispering. Mainly from Stella and her friends, making comments about your class of imps and how you “unruly creatures” and how Lucifer should just ditch you beside it’s embarrassing.

Later into the night, you and Lucifer were chatting with a group of demons that run a large business, you can’t remember what it was about though. Lucifer turns to you. “Hey love, do you think you could get us some more drinks?” He asks sweetly, and when you agree gives you a kiss on the forhead before turning back to the conversation as you walk away.

You head to the table with the drinks, noticing Stella and some of her friends by it. She notices you and turn to her friends as they whisper and giggle, she sends a grin your way.

You choose to ignore it, probably just then talking bad about you again, beliving they won’t do anything.

You head to the table, grabbing two wine glasses about to fill them up, when suddenly you feel something spill all over the front of your dress.

You gasp and turn look down at yourself to see the wine spilled all over your new dress. “Aw, oopsie! So sorry darling, just bumped into the table. But don’t worry, I’m sure you have some clothes that… fit you better right? Like those simple imo clothes?” Stella gives you a fake pouty look, cackling.

Lucifer rushes over to you as tears begin to pool in your eyes. “Oh my god, my dear are you al-“ he tries to reach for you, scanning to see if your okay but you swat his hand away. “I’m fine” you snap, wiping at the tears beginning to fall.

You don’t look behind you, but hear Stella and her friends laughing and the people crowding to see what happened, as you rush to a nearby bathroom.

You scramble into the restroom, slamming the door behind you, locking it. You go over to one of the walls, sinking down to the floor. You rest your face in your hands, as you sobs and cry, ruining your carefully done makeup.

You hug your knees tightly, sniffling and rocking yourself back and forth, your chests heaving with the heavy breaths your taking.

You internally curse yourself for ever thinking your worth the king of hell. You. A simple imp. Your choked sobs die down to sift whispers, yet the tears never stopping streaming down you face.

You bury your face into your knees hander when you hear the door unlock and open, muttering a small “go away.” But they don’t, and you hear the footsteps come closer, stopping infront of you.

“Dear, what’s this about….?” You hear a voice say, peeking up to see Lucifer looking at you, kneeled down. He has a sad look on his face.

“…why me…?” You ask, and Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, furrowing his brows. “Stella’s right, why pick me and not some other better prettier more powerful demon…” you interrupt him, and Lucifer’s face falls.

“Oh darling…” he whispers, holding you and cradling you in his arms. “Why would you think I want someone else..?” He murmurs.

“Because th-there are so many other people that would be better for you..” you cry, leaning against his chest as he holds you tight, the tears beginning to fall faster down your cheeks, chest heaving.

He just shushes you, wiping them away. “My love I chose you, not anybody else..” he says, turning you to look at him with a smile. “I don’t care how powerful you are, your shape, size, color, darling I picked you.” He says, and you start to cry harder, burying your face in his chest. “B-… but why…?”

He just smiles, rubbing hand through your hair, rubbing circles in your back comfortingly. “Because when I met you, you made me happier than I have felt for years..” he says. “And I don’t care about anything else because I love you, no other woman will ever have my heart as the way you have.”

You sniffle, and he rocks you back and forth, his hand going to hold yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth giving it a kiss, before continuing.

“I’m so sorry how Stella treated you, I should have warned you before hand she is very judgey, it’s my fault sweetheart, and I apologize.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. You lean against him as he soothes you. He hugs you tightly, ignoring your wet dress against him, staining his white tux from the red rubbing off. But he doesn’t care and just holds you closer.

“M…I. I’m.. sorry…” you mutter, and he shushes you. “Honey there is nothing to be sorry about. The only people that should be sorry are Stella and the other people who judged you based on what you look like and where you came from.”

“For… ruining the party..” you say, embarrassed, but he just chuckles. “My love that was just a bit of spilt wine. Nothing to fret over. You ruined nothing.”

You two sit there in silence for a moment, embraced in a hug together. “…thank you…” you murmer.

“For what, sweetheart?” He asks. “For… st-staying with me, and dealing with my bullshit… and not judging me…” you say, and he lets out a laugh at your second reason.

“Of course my love, he says turning you head to him and he places a kiss on your forehead.

You two sit there, finding comfort in each others warmth.

After a couple minutes Lucifer speaks. “So, we have two options. One; I can take you up to the room and you hang out there and then when the party is over, I come get you.” He inhaled; letting it sink in. “Or two, you can go to the room and get changed and come back out to see my chewing out Stella, and have a good time at the party.” You laugh at his option 2.

“Two. Definitely two.”

———————————————————————

A/N: this took so long I’m so sorry I have ADHD and procrastinate. But figure out a not-really-kinda schedule. I do a request, then do Headcanons or a story I chose, then request and so on. If you sent a request and it’s in the rules and has not been done yet, it will be done eventually. This wasent as long as I would have hoped but I think it still came out good! Hope you enjoyed, make sure to know you are loved and take care of yourself!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer magne x reader #Lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #Lucifer comfort #Hazbin hotel lucifer #fluff #Ckmfort #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 7 months

Note

Hihi! I went on anon cause my main blog is strictly sfw, but I promise I'm an adult(29). Anyways, I had this idea of Ascended Astarion teasing Tav/Reader in front of a mirror. He can't see himself, but loves the way Tav/Reader shudders under his touch and them getting more and more embarrassed because all they can see is themselves getting riled up by seemingly nothing, but when they look down, ofc they see his hands working magic across their body.

Lol ty for the clarification and ask! I've been needing some nsfw practice!

Ascended Astarion nsfw under the cut, 18 + warnings. Like this is not implied smut. It is smut, graphic. Possessive, obsessive, manipulative, bad vampire man who loves you. As much as he's capable of. Morally gray human Tav from the start to here. It's only downhill from here baby, m/f angle. But if that doesnt fufill the dream let me know and I can make a gender neutral/ gender nonspecfic no prob! And probably less intense too because this is angsty~~~

Like I went ham, this is a whole ass fic now💀

You frowned at yourself in the bedroom mirror, adjusting your hair for the umpteenth time. It still didn't look right, despite what felt like hours of practice that you'd put into the intricate style.

You sighed as let one of your braids fall down, dissatisfied with what you saw. You didn't exactly look the part of an all-powerful vampire's consort, or at least not with the company you've recently been keeping. But it turned out a significant part of taking over Baldur's Gate was trenched in politics, meetings, balls, social events created for the sole purpose of mind games.

It was exhausting, or at least it was for you. But Astarion seemed to take to it like a duck to water. This life suited him, one of power games and subterfuge, and more often than not, murder. Not that you minded. You were just happy that he was having fun. That he was finally free after all of those years of torment. Even if he was using that freedom for… less than savory ends.

But despite his goals, you had sworn to him that you would never stray. And you intended on making good on that promise.

You just wished that he didn't insist on you being there for all of his "business". You hadn't realized how literal he had been about the whole sitting in his lap plan. It had taken a half-hour conversation to even convince him that no, you would not be doing so in the nude. He still hadn't given up on convincing you off that plan, but you highly doubted that it would help with your current level of heightened insecurity.

Maybe you were worrying for no reason. It wasn't Astarion who made you feel out of place. Well… it was, but not because of anything he did. Just… who he had become. He was so different now, so much colder to everything and everyone but you. More calculating, less forgiving, and just perfect for working with the most dangerous individuals in the mortal plane.

You seemed to be the only living thing he could relax around anymore, the only person who could soften him. It was strange really. You used to remember his softer side, before the ritual. The way his heart would hurt for children and animals alike, despite his failed attempts to hide it. His soft spot for Karlach, those who were brave and brazen, always willing to do the right thing despite the risks. The kind smile he used to have, reserved for beautiful things like the sunrise, the sunset.

Gone, all of it. It was a fact that you didn't like to think about. What you both gave up, things could have been; there was no point to it anyway. It was over. You gave Astarion the choice, this is what came of that. So here you were, obsessing over your appearance in preparation for a meeting with a high-ranking devil.

How things had changed.

You had no idea if you would ever find a way to match up with the company he kept around these days. Maybe it was your own fault for surrounding yourself with otherworldly creatures, but it was hard not to feel inadequate.

It didn't help that whenever you even slightly alluded to that insecurity, Astarion was more than ready to remind you of your… "options".

"You can join us whenever you'd like my treasure," Astarion would say with a creeping grin, "Just one bite, and we can be sure you'll be mine forever. Would that be so bad?"

It was a tempting offer, one that you kept insisting on refusing. You loved Astarion more than anything. But… you wanted that love to stay your choice. An obligation you maintained of your own free will. It's not that you didn't trust him… but to be a spawn had too many implications for you to handle.

"What has you pouting sweet thing?"

You startled when hands suddenly settled on your hip, gripping through the thin fabric of your nightdress. You looked back, relaxing the slightest bit to see Astarion smiling down at you, amused at the fact he'd managed to sneak up on you through the mirror.

"You said you weren't going to do that anymore," You whined as you leaned back into him, your eyes turning back to the mirror. You could see the fabric of your slip indented under his hands, ghost-like without his actual image reflecting back.

"I lied," Astarion said simply, leaning down to breathe you in from the crook of your neck, "Now what are you thinking about pet? I can tell something's on your mind."

You bit your lip, debating for a moment if you should tell him or not. But it's not like he would let it drop, and he was way too good at being able to tell when you were lying. Might as well come clean.

You sighed, "I don't…I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

You expected him to huff at you, maybe even laugh. But instead, the grip he had on you tightened, hard enough to make you gasp. You could feel his fangs scraping against your delicate skin, scratching hard enough to cause pinpricks of blood to bead out.

"And why would you ever think a thing like that?" Astarion asked, his voice harsh and low, "Where else would you be if not by my side hm? Please, enlighten me."

You gulped, your heart rate starting to pick up. You hadn't meant it like that, "That's not what I meant-"

"Then what else could it have meant?" Astarion shot back, his hands digging into you, surely ready to leave finger-shaped bruises. Suddenly he was using that same grip to drag you backward to the bed, effortlessly settling you between his spread legs.

All while managing to still be right in sight of the mirror. You could feel your cheeks redden as his hands started to wander, unceremoniously tugging down the straps of your nightdress to reveal your chest. That was another thing about life after the ritual that had been a surprise, just how different Astarion's sex drive was. It's not like he was a prude before, far from it, but now he was insatiable. Always ready and willing to touch you whenever the urge struck him. Often enough for you to eventually come to the thrilling, if not slightly disturbed realization, that… he was training you. Training your body to always want his touch.

And tonight was no different. You could already feel yourself getting wet, and he had barely done anything yet. But then suddenly he was pinching your nipple harshly, hissing in your ear, "I expect an answer when I ask you a question darling."

You bit back a moan, trying to remember what you were even arguing about as he started to play with your breasts, "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just… I don't want to embarrass you."

It was humiliating to admit but it was true. Not many people of Astarion's caliber insisted on a singular lover. There were so many people after him now, people with more power, more beauty, and grace. You didn't match up. You couldn't.

"Nonsense," Astarion dismissed, his hands wandering down to tear off more of your clothing, "Look at you. You were made for this life. Made for me. You're gorgeous."

The compliments mixed with the harsh feeling of his hands ripping your nightdress in two was quite the experience. You could feel his own hardness pressing into your backside, twitching as he threw your ruined clothing to the side.

Then he was gripping your chin, forcing your head back up to stare into the mirror in front of you, "I said look."

You obeyed, eyes widening at what you saw. It was so strange to see yourself like this, fully exposed with your legs spread apart, flushed and panting. It nearly gave the illusion that your very image was what was causing the wetness between your legs, instead of the invisible man toying with you.

You swallowed, your throat dry as Astarion's hands wandered lower, a feather-light touch tracing up and down your slit, "You are everything. The sole reason that I'm the man I am today. There is nowhere else you should be than right here."

"But-" You gasped, your words interrupted by a sharp slap to your inner thigh. You could see your skin start to redden in the mirror, a perfect imprint left in it's wake.

"Darling, are you questioning my judgment? What on earth made you think that was a good idea?"

You frantically shook your head, moaning when his fingers delved deeper, playing with your slick folds, "I-I'm not. I didn't- I'm sorry."

You whined as he roughly pinched your clit, his other hand moving upward to do the same to your heaving chest.

He was starting to grind his hardness against you, a tease of more to come as he murmured in your ear, "There's my good girl. Was that so hard?"

You shook your head, gasping as he finally dipped his long fingers into your cunt. You were already so sensitive, humiliatingly close in a matter of minutes.

"So gorgeous," Astarion sighed, staring straight ahead to the sole image of you, whimpering as he finger-fucked your pussy, "So needy. Can you see how wet you are pet?"

You could, you were leaking around his fingers, that needy, intense feeling getting more and more intense by the moment. It was so embarrassing seeing yourself like this, enough so that you snapped your eyes shut.

A bad idea. Astarion tutted at you, landing another sudden and hard slap to your thigh, "None of that. I told you to look. Or else."

You snapped your eyes back open, watching yourself whimper and gasp as you were played with, the harsh movement of his hand jostling your breasts. You weren't going to last much longer, not with the image of you being taken apart, the feeling of him inside you, the mean edge to your love's words.

"You're such a silly little thing, aren't you?" Astarion growled, fucking you harder and faster. You were so close, but you weren't stupid enough to come without permission. Not after what he did the last time, "Doubting me. Do you really think I don't know what's best for you? What's best for us?"

"No," You whimpered, your hips arching backward to rub harder into his erection, "You're right, I-I'm yours. C-Can I come now? Please?"

"Beg me and maybe I'll think about it," Astarion meanly laughed, relishing in the gush of slick his harshness coaxed from between your legs, "Beg and apologize. Apologize for doubting us. For doubting me."

You could barely get the words out through your own gasps, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean it!"

"Good girl," Astarion huskily laughed, using a clever thumb to rub over your swollen clit, "Now tell me you love me."

"I love you," You said easily, meaning every word, "I love you more than anything.

"Tell me you'll never leave me. Ever."

There was something else behind that promise. An obvious implication that your fucked-out brain was too distracted to see.

"Never," You promised, reaching back for you him. You curled your fingers into his hair. pulling his head down to press his mouth against your throat. An open invitation, "I'll always be with you."

Astarion groaned against your skin, his fangs so close to piercing, "Precious pet, how could I ever want anything else? Come darling, you've earned it."

Then he was biting you, the brief flash of pain the perfect trigger for you to fall over the edge. You came with an embarrassingly high-pitched whine, slumping back into Astarion as he drank from your throat.

You looked as much of a mess as you felt, the stickiness between your thighs glistening in the light. You watched yourself, whimpering as Astarion slipped his fingers out. Just to tap them against your lips, forcing them into your mouth to suck on.

You moaned around them, light-headed as Astarion popped off of your throat. You sighed as he licked at the wound, enjoying the brief moment of rest. You weren't naive enough to think that you were done yet. Not when Astarion was still hard, his cock pulsing against you.

"See?" Astarion huskily laughed, licking the blood off of his lips while he played with your tongue, "You're perfect. Perfect and mine."

#astarion #ascended astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #asks #check the intro warnings #graphic #m/f pairing

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razzberriezz · 6 months

Text

Fashion Dreamer Tips & Tricks

Some stuff only I found that isn't mentioned or in-game at all or is easily missed as far as I'm aware? I hope it helps some of you guys out :) It is quite image-heavy under the cut, fair warning!!

Colour Matching (Item Creator) Pressing down on the left stick changes the display from mannequin to the item itself, but pressing it again will show whatever item you're creating along with whatever your muse is currently wearing.

So if you've gotten a custom coloured item from someone else, this is great for making items and accessories to match with it! And you don't have to waste 120k points trying to match colours by guesstimation instead like me :'))) Or maybe I'm just dumb because I knew how to zoom in and out, just not the display switching OTL

2. Showroom Configuration (is stupid) This is for the Happy Home Paradise players... Make sure that any mannequins or clothing you display in your showroom is actually accessible, because you cannot walk under ceiling decorations, even if they are lighting. I have no idea why. You also can't change the camera angle, so it'd be best not to put the door/panel decorations all in a row at the front, because then players can't see what you're even displaying (unless it's just like a mannequin in the middle surrounded by lockers... Idk)

Taking the time to plug my showroom again before I swap out the outfits for the fancier stuff I have >o< Find me at a8xv4JW3Am!

3. Muse Advisors There are at least 2 or 3 advisors who are present at the Muse Mirror in each Cocoon in rotation. (e.g. Noz and Iris in HOPE) They can not only suggest colours and unique makeup that you haven't obtained yet* (I've seen a look where your character gets like a Batman/Robin mask lol), but also give you their own! If the one whose look you want isn't there, you just have to quick-travel (press down on the right stick) to another Cocoon and back. Otherwise, you can just keep talking to them and backing out until their option shows up.

Before & After (Iris ver.)!

(*Unfortunately, they won't give you unique eye shines/reflections.)

4. NPCs I've just learnt that the NPCs you start with are most likely random. I've seen others start with NPCs I haven't even seen or heard of! You need to raise their friendship level until you get a special event that says 'Friend Introduction' - and even then, I think the NPC who appears next might be random (unconfirmed). This may make it quite a pain for those who want the unnatural skin colours, since I believe they are only unlockable via NPC friendship rank... So just go into solo mode and spam some outfits :')

5. Camera Angles and Idle Poses This one is a bit useless, but I didn't know about it until now so it's going in. Most of the time, I use the drone camera to take photos, but could never really fit fullbody photos - turns out, you need to angle the camera slightly downwards (have your character looking up) to be able to zoom out enough to fit your Muse's whole body in. If the camera angle is level with your Muse, you will never be able to get a fullbody picture. Who thought this would be a good idea???

Level angle and tilted angle - the level angle is already at the lowest it could go.

Additionally, waiting for a while will let your character have the time to perform some idle animations, some of which (I think) are not present in the poses option, even via NPC friendship rank. The downside is that you'll have to crop out some parts of the UI and the quality will be a little lower - however, that can be fixed using waifu2x (which I tend to use anyways for aesthetic posts lol).

Before & After using waifu2x!

Since the game is so new I thought this might be helpful to some who are also just starting out. If anything here is wrong, please let me know and I'll fix it as soon as possible!

#fashion dreamer #my.fashion.dreamer.posts #idk what else to tag so this is it for now

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gretagerwigsmuse · 11 months

Text

but i kinda hope they catch us - anyway...

Summary: well, you both survived the gala. if only you can survive what bradley has in store for the post-game

OR five times

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader (15.8k)

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v, dom/sub influence, discussions of subspace, and praise, rank, and degradation kink). listen she really internally rambles like...a lot about him and how much she loves him, so like idk. part of 'and even when we're wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay' part 1, part 1.5, part 2.1, part 2.2.1, part 2.2.2

You took a deep breath as you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and tried to hype yourself up. Was it too much? Would he like it? Why were you so nervous?

Because, to be honest, it wasn’t something you’d typically wear - especially not in this color. But it matched your dress and your underwear - and Bradley had liked that just fine. Would he like this though? You fiddled with the bow securing the halter style chemise behind your neck.

He’d like it, he’d like it, he’d like - you liked it.

You liked it and you thought you looked pretty and beautiful and sexy in it and because of that, you knew Bradley would like it, too. He would. He would.

With a final fluff of your hair and check of your makeup, you adjusted your breasts in the white lace cups - you really could’ve done with the next size up, but it was too late now - and left the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom. You peeked your head around the hallway corner to see that Bradley was still on the patio, the sliding glass door just barely cracked open.

Perfect.

Darting around the room to dim the lights was only made slightly difficult by your heels, but they were part of the whole thing, the whole bit. You tapped your index finger against your chin, looking for anything amiss as you ran through your mental checklist. The extra set of sheets in the closet were ready to go - you hated having to sleep in messy sheets - there were water bottles within reach, and the lights were dimmed.

Suddenly, you wished you had listened to Bradley and brought something stronger to drink from home. His scotch wasn’t exactly to your tastes, but you wanted something to give you a little liquid courage after the buzz from the champagne you’d drunk at the gala had mostly worn off about thirty minutes ago. You glanced outside - he was still sitting out there, his back to you, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. There was still time…

You turned back to the desk spanning almost half the wall of the room, flipped over one of the tumblers next to the ice bucket, and poured yourself two fingers of scotch. The face you made upon swallowing was probably the least attractive thing you’d done that night, but no one else had seen it, so it didn’t count. A smudge of your lipstick lined the rim of the glass, reminding you that you hadn’t blotted it when you reapplied.

The tumbler made a solid thunk when you set it back down on the desk. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Bradley’s suit jacket discarded on the couch and an idea struck. The jacket didn’t exactly dwarf your frame even with two buttons fastened to hide what was underneath, but it did provide decent coverage and you figured he’d like it.

He always liked stuff like that.

The jacket smelled like his cologne and the cigar he had with Pete and weighed heavily on your chest with all the assorted medals and ribbons that Bradley had explained the significance of at one time or another with the one from earlier that evening the most prominent of them all. With a final deep breath, you crossed the small distance towards the sliding door.

You slid it open further, so that your whole body would fit, and placed your hands on either side of the frame at shoulder height. With one leg relaxed and bent slightly at the knee, you simply said:

“Are you coming to bed, handsome?”

Bradley huffed out a laugh and glanced up from his phone. “That’s a new one - oh…”

You slinked over towards him and his legs instinctively widened so you could stand between them, while his hands slid up to rest on your hips over the jacket.

“Was a little cold, had to throw this on for a bit.”

“Hmmm.” He looked up at you, a teasing smile on his face. “You decide to throw out all those ironclad morals of yours and join up?”

You tapped your chin twice with your index finger. “Maybe? Still waiting on the verdict for those war crimes trials…”

Bradley chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone, but you might be waiting a while…” His hands slipped underneath the jacket and brushed against the silk chiffon of your chemise. “Now what do we have here?”

He retracted his hands only to unfasten the two buttons previously keeping the jacket closed.

“Do you like it?” Please like it.

“Maybe if I could see all of it I might have a better idea…” There was the slightest hint of teasing in his voice and his eyes were alight with mischief.

You bit your lip and then sat down on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Be patient.”

The jacket slipped a little as you got situated, which gave Bradley a glimpse at the thick bow tied at the back of your neck and the top of the lace cups.

He hummed and shifted in his seat, jostling you slightly. “Like I said earlier, I’ve been patient all night. Don’t think I can wait another second, kid…”

Slowly, Bradley’s hands crept up your sides, getting closer and closer to your breasts. He rubbed the silk between his thumb and index finger, not quite yet meeting your eye as he explored.

Prior to your relationship, you hadn’t really worn lingerie outside of a cute bra and panty set for yourself. Granted, you had bought something more daring once for your ex-boyfriend, Jack, when the two of you had first started dating. But even though he had said all the right things, he had still practically torn the Fleur du Mal matching set off you, not taking any time to savor how the lace had looked against your skin or how prettily you had tied the bows.

But Bradley? Bradley savored it. Every glimpse of your nipples peeking out through the lace cups, every brush of his hand against the silk, every pretty little bow he had to untie. He savored it - sometimes a little too much, leaving you whiny and panting and desperate for his teasing to stop.

“Think this one’s my favorite so far.”

You smiled and eventually met his eyes. “You said that last time…”

“And last time it was, but - fuck. You look so gorgeous.”

He pushed his jacket off your left shoulder, then the right, causing it to land on the ground with a solid thud due to all the assorted military paraphernalia. You peered over your shoulder at the pathetic lump of fabric on the patio.

“I should pick that up. It’s gonna get -”

Bradley grabbed your chin to focus your attention back on him. “- Shhh, it’ll be fine.” He leaned in and sucked on your pulse point for a moment. “Just relax.”

While he kissed up and down your neck, telling you to just relax after each one, you found yourself doing just that, slowly sagging your body against his and getting into a comfortable position.

For a moment, you were cold without the jacket. There was a slight breeze coming off the ocean some two hundred yards away and you felt your nipples harden and goosebumps break out up and down your arms. But slowly, you felt warm - buzzed. And that was all due to Bradley and how safe and warm and happy and good he made you feel. And tonight, you had a feeling he was going to make you feel very good.

You turned your head, angling for a proper kiss - your first one since you had gotten back to the room that evening - which Bradley gladly reciprocated.

“You taste like scotch,” he said and then kissed you again. “You hate scotch.” Another kiss. And again and again and again until he was kissing up and down your neck and tickling your sides.

Your giggles echoed across the patio. “I was nervous,” you admitted, “needed some liquid courage.”

Bradley properly paused and cocked his head. “Nervous?”

You tittered, not thinking he would actually call you out on it. “I don’t know? I don’t normally wear stuff like this? Was just nervous if you’d like it and just everything about tonight - which I know is silly considering what you -”

“- I was nervous earlier, too,” he confessed like you hadn’t known, “Like I knew I was getting the award and everything, but I had this fear that I didn’t deserve it and they were just gonna take it away - which like I don’t know, it just brought everything back from that day. And how fucking scared I was and just - it was a lot.”

Oh, sweet boy. You cupped his cheek. “It’s okay to have been nervous. You did something really brave and important, Bradley. And that’s something you and Pete will have between you for the rest of your lives. So now, whenever you look at that medal, just think of Pete and everything you guys have gone through, okay?”

Bradley smiled and placed his hand over yours before bringing them both down between the two of you. “I like that, actually. Beats the alternative.” He didn’t let you linger on that last part and kept talking. “You know, whenever it would get to be too much, I’d glance over at you and see you smiling and talking with someone or dancing and I’d be fine - because you were there.”

If possible, you had never felt more love for someone than you did at that moment. Because that’s the way you always felt around Bradley, too. Just seeing his face, knowing he was nearby was enough. It would always be enough.

Your eyes started to get misty. “Bubs, my nervousness tonight is in no way comparable to what you were going through earlier - let me finish - but I feel the exact same way every single time I look over and see you, just knowing you’re there is always enough for me.”

A huge smile lit up Bradley’s entire face and he squeezed his hands around your hips. God, he was so handsome. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. “Now kiss me again.”

He didn’t waste another moment and captured your lips with his own, while your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling you even closer to him. As you sat in his lap, biting lips, brushing tongues, roving hands, you repositioned yourself and got comfortable straddling Bradley’s left leg, though you didn’t quite put all of your weight on it. For the first time all evening, your heels hurt your feet. But you knew Bradley would want to take them off himself, so you bore the momentary pain graciously.

Clearly liking the new position, he grabbed your hips and brought you closer towards him, causing the fabric of his dress pants to create the most exciting ripple against your lace underwear. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“You like that?” You nodded and he did it again, this time your underwear brushed perfectly against your clit and you whimpered.

“You gonna let me be in charge tonight?” he asked like he wasn’t in charge every time you had sex. But you knew what he meant. Bradley needed to be in charge and be dominant and take control tonight. After everything during the gala and all the memories it had brought up, he needed to be in charge.

And you were always eager and willing to let him.

“Remember earlier when I asked you for a number between one and five?” You hummed. “And you picked five…” You hummed again, though less sure this time. “Well, that’s how many times you’re gonna come for me tonight.”

Your throat went dry and your pulse quickened. Oh god - oh wow. Five times. Had you known what Bradley had been asking earlier when he coaxed the number out of you, you would have gone for a much more manageable three - maybe four.

Maybe.

But five?

With five it was a foregone conclusion that you would go into subspace during and drop after. Because the last time - really the only time - you’d done either of those, it had taken Bradley doing something you’d never done before to finally get you there. And that was only after he’d already made you come three times.

“Do you - do you think you could spank me…”

Bradley looked slightly confused and rightly so. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to slap your ass while you were having sex. It actually wasn’t something you’d ever asked him to do before. It had long been established between the two of you that it was something you both liked and were free to do. Hell, he had already done it a couple times that evening.

But you didn’t mean on your ass.

“Yeah,” it wasn’t quite phrased as a question, but Bradley didn’t sound as sure as he had earlier in the evening when he’d fucked your throat and came on your tits.

Because he had sounded very sure when he had called you a ‘dumb fucking slut’ whose mouth was ‘only good for one thing.’ Naturally, you’d come and he hadn’t even properly touched you yet.

“Onmypussy,” you rushed out, your mortification growing slightly when all you got out of Bradley was his eyes widening and his cock twitching.

He glanced down at your glistening core and smiled wolfishly. “Beg me.”

You whined. “Bradley…”

“You beg me or I don’t touch you the rest of the night…”

No. No, no no. You wanted him - you needed him. You were beyond horny and needy at this point, you were desperate to be fucked, to be filled. You’d beg. You’d beg and beg and beg for him to slap you if that was what it took for his cock to be inside you later.

“Please, Bradley. Please, slap my pussy,” you whined, “Need to come, need you. So desperate and needy for you. Please, please, please - oh!”

The first slap hit your exposed clit and you cried out. From above you, you could tell Bradley was hesitant to proceed.

But all it took was you saying “Green” for his hands to be on you again. The next slap hit the sensitive skin of your upper thighs and lips. But the third one? The third one hit perfectly. And it was loud and wet and filthy. So fucking filthy. His big hands hit your tender flesh and you let out a desperate moan. Fucking finally.

After that, you’d tried to keep count of how many times he’d struck you, but were eventually rendered unable to do anything more than mindlessly whimper and babble.

“- F-five? Five times?”

He mistook your response as hesitance. “Hey - no, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, plain and simple. It was just a game I made up to distract myself before the ceremony -”

Your throat went dry and your cheeks warmed. It was impossible to stop yourself from rolling your hips against his thigh. “You were thinking - that’s what you were thinking about earlier? At dinner? In front of everyone?” He blushed and nodded. “Fuck,” you whined.

Bradley bent his head down to rest on your chest, right in the valley of your breasts.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I need you everywhere. Anyway I can have you if you let me.”

And without thinking it over for another moment, you said “yes.” Yes, to five. Yes, to anything he asked you. Yes, to Bradley.

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“I wanna try for you.”

A proud smile lit up his face and he pecked you on the lips. “Good girl.”

You wound your arms around his neck, bringing the two of you closer together before ultimately capturing his lips with your own.

For how needy you both were, neither of you had any problem just kissing each other. Making out like two horny teenagers who were left unsupervised in someone’s parents’ converted basement. Except now you were very much two adults making out on the patio of your cabana suite after a night spent toasting one of you for their heroics. And no, you did not mean how you survived talking to Emily Simpson and meeting Bradley’s gorgeous ex-girlfriend.

Not now.

Your hands moved from where they were raking through Bradley’s hair - making it tousled and fluffy - to his shoulders and eventually to his bowtie. The silk slipped through your fingers as you untied the knot, pulling it through the collar of his shirt, which you unbuttoned to expose that pretty neck of his.

Now you could kiss him. Mark him. Bite that scar on his shoulder. Inhale the scent of his cologne.

While you had been kissing him, Bradley’s right hand snuck underneath the gauzy fabric of your chemise and started teasing the pretty little bow tied at the back of your thong. All the while, his hand left gripped your hip, anchoring you to his thigh, but still allowing you the ability to grind.

You were whimpering in between kisses, desperate for the big, strong hand digging into your hip to slip underneath your thong and brush your aching clit.

The lace. The pants. Bradley.

It felt so good. All of it. Grinding on his big, strong thigh. Brushing your breasts against his big, strong chest.

Big. Strong. Bradley.

It was all consuming. Feeling his mustache brush against your lips and his tongue stroke yours expertly. The way one of his hands snuck up your side to fondle your breasts through the delicate lace.

It felt so good. And you were already getting so wet. So unbelievably wet that there was definitely going to be a sticky mess on Bradley’s Navy issued slacks if you didn’t let up.

God, wasn’t that a thought? You had wanted to mark him, sure. But on his chest or neck. A bite on his shoulder. Not your cum on his pants. Could he tell? He had to be able to tell. Shit. You needed to move.

You shifted and hid a whimper at the unintentional stimulation.

“…Wait, where’re you going?” Bradley stilled you on his thigh, clearly oblivious to your embarrassment.

You squirmed, but all that did was send another wave of arousal crashing through you. “I don’t want to ruin your pants,” the words came out in a rush.

He cocked his head. “My pants?”

God, you had thought you were beyond getting embarrassed about stuff like this, but apparently grinding on your boyfriend’s thigh with only a thin barrier of white, Italian lace was doing you in that evening. He just looked so handsome and you were already so keyed up and just needed him in any way you could have him.

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“I’m sorry, it just feels like I - I need more and it feels so good, but I don’t want to ruin your pants - I can stop -”

Bradley squeezed your hips and dragged you higher up on his thigh, closer to his crotch. The ripple of the fabric on his pants felt absolutely sinful against your core and you bit your lip to hold back a moan, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment.

“- I don’t mind.” And clearly he didn’t if the prominent bulge in his slacks was any indication.

You ducked your head and he tipped your chin up so you were looking into his beautiful brown eyes. He kissed you and you desperately wanted to get lost in the feeling until you had another thought.

“- They’ll probably have to get dry cleaned now - the pants, I mean -”

But Bradley just smiled. “- And I will happily expense it - hey, you know you’re currently defacing government property? I know that’s right up your alley.” You smiled. “Now, are you gonna be a good girl and ride my thigh or not?” You nodded twice before he could say another word. “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay sweetheart. Take what you need, it’s alright.”

Given the explicit permission to continue, you resumed grinding on Bradley’s thigh. The combination of the soft lace of your underwear coupled with the coarse fabric of his dress pants was doing wonders against your clit. You dug your hands into his shoulders as you tried to keep your balance, but that was only made harder when Bradley teasingly bounced his leg a couple times. You whimpered. It echoed pitifully across the patio and he chuckled.

“That feel good against you, huh, kid?” You nodded. “Yeah, I bet. I could feel you dripping on me since you sat down. I know you’ve been like this all night.” You nodded again and he clicked his tongue.

You leaned forward to kiss his neck, right along that little white scar. He smelled so pretty and his hands were so big and strong as they dug into your hips.

He was all you could focus on - all you wanted to focus on. Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“Awww, look at you trying so hard to come. Such a good girl for me.”

Goosebumps ran up and down your entire body and you felt yourself get even wetter at the praise. You pulled away from his neck - his beautiful, beautiful neck - and kissed him.

“Fuck,” Bradley gasped against your mouth after a few moments of continued grinding and kisses, “why haven’t we done this before?”

You shook your head quickly. “I don’t know, ‘feels so good though.”

“I like you using me like this.”

His words made you pause, slightly self conscious again. He liked this? “Really?”

“Could be kinda fun for you to take control every once in a while - ‘know you like me to take care of you, but maybe one day?”

It was an interesting idea, one you hadn’t considered too much on your own, at least not seriously. Bradley was so naturally dominant, it just made sense that it would translate in that way to your sex life. But now that you thought about it, he did like when you were a little condescending towards him - and when you called him a good boy. You felt your neck getting warm at the thought.

“One day, but for now…”

Bradley pressed hot, sloppy kisses across your chest, occasionally stopping to suck on your pert nipples through the lace of your chemise. You let out a strangled cry as he tweaked your nipple in a way that had your seeing stars. God, it felt so delicious, so good.

Touch me. Touch me. Touch me.

His fingers slid underneath the thin straps of your thong and he splayed his hands across your ass cheeks. You let out a pitiful whimper and kept moving, kept rubbing yourself against him. It felt so good and pleasant - an electric hum running through your body - and you had the passing thought that you could actually come from this. You could actually come on your boyfriend’s thigh.

You wondered what his pants looked like right now and wanted to check, but Bradley tipped your chin up so you were staring into his eyes.

“Almost there?” You just nodded. “Lemme try one more thing…”

You barely uttered a simple yes when he yanked your thong up so it was digging into your clit. The sudden movement had you crying out, which Bradley smothered with a sloppy kiss.

Holy fuck.

Your body tensed and then relaxed again as you rode out your high, before you eventually sagged against his chest.

Fuck. You can’t believe that just happened. You came riding his thigh. His big, brawny, strong thigh. The fact that what finally pushed you over the edge was the borderline crude or base act of yanking your panties didn’t even embarrass you, it just made you want to come again.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, huh?”

Bradley kissed your neck, but didn’t move or even signal for you to get up. He just held you there against him as you caught your breath. Eventually, his right hand moved from your lower back to the front of your drenched thong. His fingers slipped underneath the lace and brushed against your wet folds. You gasped as he sunk one then another finger inside you, but you didn’t pick your head up from his shoulder.

“Bradley,” you whined, the word suddenly too loud for your little patio. Your hips rolled against his hand. “Need your fingers.”

“Shhh hold on, sweetheart.” He leaned back. “Let’s go inside -”

You picked your head up and laid a hand on his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “What if we stayed out here for a bit…”

“If we stay out here someone -”

Your eyes never left his own. “- might hear us…”

You were in the corner room. There was only one room next to yours. One room that shared a wall with your room. One room whose patio was only delineated by a thin cabana awning. One room whose occupants you had both found out earlier in the evening were Jake Seresin - and Sarah fucking Costigan.

Goosebumps ran up and down your arms. You leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “What if I want someone to hear us? To hear how good you make me feel -”

He said your name; it came out like a warning.

“ - Have them hear your little civvy girlfriend cry out for her handsome, award winning boyfriend?”

Bradley’s eyes darkened and you knew you had him. The only other thing that could possibly push him over the edge even further was you calling him Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw.

And there was still plenty of time for that.

“Fuck,” he sounded completely and utterly wrecked. “You sure, kid?”

“I want them to know how good you are.”

It was like a switch had gone off inside his head. From then on, it became all about you. His hands - his big, strong hands - were everywhere, roving over your hips, your ass, your thighs, your breasts. His lips latched onto your neck, while his left hand tweaked your nipple and you sighed and sighed and sighed, each one breathier and louder than the last.

You wanted him to leave bruises and marks all over your body. You wanted proof.

“Bradley…” You sounded wanton, but it didn’t stop you from saying his name again - and louder still.

Hear me. Hear how good my boyfriend makes me feel. Hear how he makes love to me. Hear how much he loves me.

“Oh god, that feels so good.” You let out a gasp as he scissored his fingers inside you. You could feel your clit throbbing against your underwear, desperate to be touched there again - to come again.

Noticing your increased neediness, Bradley scoffed.

“You’re making such a mess. Am I gonna have to clean you up, too - bury my face in that soaking wet pussy? Might have to go back for seconds with the way you’re dripping on me like you didn’t just come on my thigh.”

That sounded heavenly right now. The thought of his mustache tickling the sensitive skin of your thighs and his lips sucking your clit, lapping up all the slick you had just accumulated. You could come right now from the thought alone, but why make do with the thought when you had the man, himself, so willing.

“Need you to -” you whined, “need your mouth on me, please, please - oof.”

The words barely had a moment to settle when Bradley rolled you both over so he was lying on top of you on the outdoor loveseat. His eyes were blown out as he looked down at you and you shifted under his heady stare.

He leaned back on his haunches and ran his hands - his big, strong hands - up and down your thighs. “So pretty,” he muttered under his breath, almost like he hadn’t wanted you to hear. And then, louder, he said: “You want my mouth on you?”

“Mmmm, please.”

Bradley tutted. “Try again.”

You didn’t know what he wanted. You said please, you used your words, you - oh. His big, strong hand slapped your pussy and you let out a cry as your hips chased after his hand.

“Please, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. Please put your mouth on me.”

“Much better….” He leaned down to blow on your aching cunt. You squirmed - already unbelievably sensitive and wet from the amount of slick on you that hadn’t made its way onto Bradley’s pants.

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“Come on, be a good girl and spread those legs for me - wanna see all of you.”

He laid your legs over his shoulders and pulled you closer to his face. Before you could even get out a word or a sigh or a plea, he started kissing your thighs. Slowly, painfully, languidly, making his way closer to where you were aching the most. With a final bite on your right thigh, he mouthed at your core through the wet lace of your white panties.

“Mmm can I take these off now? Unwrap my present?” His plush lips wrapped around your clit through the lace and sucked.

You threw your arm over your face. It was so hard not to buck up against his mouth - you didn’t want to show him how desperate you were so quickly. It was bad enough you already felt hot and could feel the sweat beading behind your neck right where the pretty white bow was holding up your chemise.

“Please, please,” you whined.

Bradley had you briefly roll over so he could get the full experience of untying the bow on the back of your panties before slowly rolling the lace down your legs. Of course, he stashed them in his pants pocket.

Before you could roll back over, he slapped your ass and you smiled. “Good girl.” Your cheeks warmed and you laid on your back again.

Now, completely bare and open to the elements and your boyfriend’s heady stare, it was even more apparent that your cunt was positively dripping. He placed your legs back over his shoulders and licked a long stripe across your folds.

You could feel his pleased hum against your skin. “You taste so fucking good.”

His voice came out muffled and he continued at a steady pace, alternating between slipping his tongue inside you and probing at your clit. You tried and failed to fist at the couch cushions - anything to center you - and instead grabbed a hold of Bradley’s hair with one hand and played with your breasts through the lace with the other.

“Bradley…” You let out a whine; it was only slightly exaggerated. “More, more. Please.”

The idea that you sounded pathetic didn’t even cross your mind; you just wanted to come on Bradley’s tongue.

“Shhh, there’s people in the other room…” he mocked, echoing your words from earlier. “You want everyone to hear how much of a slut you are begging me to make you come?”

He stopped talking - no, he stopped degrading you and went back to work. It was getting harder and harder to stay relatively still the closer you got to completion and you kept shifting your legs on Bradley’s shoulders. The hand with its fingers not shoved up your cunt, moved from where it was leaving marks on your hip to press on your stomach, right below your belly button.

Then, you whined as his lips wrapped around your clit and squeezed your thighs around his head, pulling at his curls to shift his focus to that special spot.

“Bradley…Bradley…Bradley…”

There was a pull in your stomach, a deep swooping sensation and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. The moan that he let out send you spiraling even further.

Five, five, five.

But you had to try for Bradley. You wanted to be good for him. Be his good girl. Even though he’d call you a slut for it.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” he said, suddenly.

You somehow managed to lift your head up, dazed, and watched as Bradley took away his hand pressing on your stomach and slipped it down between his own legs. He let up for a moment as he touched himself over his slacks, before diving right back in with such renewed vigor that you bucked up into his face. His stupid (wonderful) mustache dragged across your clit just so. It was euphoric. You could feel your walls tightening around his fingers and tongue and arched your back of the couch as you came.

“Ah! Fuck, fuck, Bradley! Right there, right there - oh - fuck, yes!”

Oh, oh, oh. It felt so good. So good.

And knowing that he was touching himself because of how good you were being? How receptive you were? Fuck. Something about Bradley’s mouth was extra sinful tonight. Or maybe you were just particularly sensitive. You were basking in the afterglow and you tried to settle your breathing.

Two. Two. Two down.

“Your legs are shaking.” Were they? You could hardly tell. “Bet I can get another one out of you like this. You wanna ride my face?”

You moaned. “Don’t think I - don’t have the strength to.” The thought didn’t even cross your mind to say that doing that normally made you nervous. You were always worried you’d break Bradley’s stupidly pretty face or something.

He clicked his tongue and then started nipping at your upper thighs. “Shame,” he said between kisses, “bet you can’t even fucking walking either. Don’t worry, I’ll take you on your back for the next one, let you rest up.”

All you could do was whimper. The thought of just laying there as he used you was so delicious. Fuck. You loved Bradley’s fingers and tongue, but you really wanted his cock inside you. Have him fill you up. Over and over again.

Five. Five. Five.

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“Gonna have to carry you to bed.”

He peered his head up from between your thighs and shot you a look, silently asking if that was okay. You didn’t like to be carried despite Bradley’s numerous efforts to prove that it was no big deal.

You just couldn’t help but think that maybe it wouldn't be as much of a deal if you were a size two instead of a size - no, no, no. Not now.

Let him. Just let him. Let him love you. Let him love you more.

“Please.”

He stood up to his full height, towering over you as you still were relaxed against the couch cushions. God, he was so pretty and so wrecked. His starch, white tuxedo shirt was rumpled, half tucked into his pants that he had unbuttoned at one point - and his cock was rock hard and straining against them.

You had done that. You had done that to him. Made him so desperate with want and need that he had had to touch himself. Would he let you touch him? Would he let you suck his cock? A whimper escaped your lips just thinking about it and Bradley ran his fingers over them. You could smell yourself.

“Come on. Lemme take you inside.”

Feeling like a lush, you let Bradley pick you up and thanked him by burrowing your face in his neck and pressing sloppy kisses to the exposed skin there. He smelled so good and his neck was so bite-able. You started pawing at the collar of his shirt, trying to push it as far away from his warm body as possible and more access.

As you nipped at his broad shoulder, he kneaded your ass with the hand not doing the majority of the work holding you up. It was a quick journey to the bedroom, but you didn’t want him to let go of you. You wanted him to be everywhere. His arms wrapped around you, his lips on yours, his cock inside you.

Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

Loathe as you were to let him go, you let Bradley untwine your arms from around his neck and sit you on the edge of the bed, only propped up by your elbows. The sheets felt scratchy against your bare ass and thighs, just how you liked them. You peered up to see Bradley already staring at you, a knowing smile on his face, before he shifted his attention to toeing off his shoes and socks.

In turn, you realized that you still had your heels on - the ones with the dainty little strap you were scared Bradley would break. (You weren’t really scared, but knew he’d get frustrated with the clasp and didn’t want to be out eleven-hundred dollars.) Once he laid his crisp white tuxedo shirt down on the bed - though not without giving you a cheeky smile and a show - did Bradley give you his full attention once again.

“God, you look so gorgeous like that.”

You could feel your cheeks warming at his unabashed staring. But he was one to talk! There was the slightest touch of pink on his shoulders from too much time spent out in the sun earlier in the day, but god if Bradley wasn’t absolutely stunning with his dress pants snug on his slutty little waist, while his tan chest had the slightest sheen of sweat on it. You wanted to lick him - everywhere.

He held out his hand and you cocked your head. “Shoes, kid.”

Oh. You raised your left leg up for him to take off your heel. The way you were sprawled out on the bed - with one leg up, no panties on, and Bradley’s eyes darting between your ankle and your wet pussy - made you feel powerful and desirable.

And god - did the stretch on your leg feel heavenly.

As predicted, Bradley did fumble with the clasp (as one would only expect with his big, strong hands), but he more than made up for it with the way he peppered kisses up and down your left leg, before switching and doing the same with the right.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” you sighed and closed your eyes, utterly blissed out.

Bradley chuckled. You could hear your Jimmy Cho hit the floor somewhere nearby. “What? Me taking your shoes off?”

“Mmmhmm, amongst other things…”

Once he let go of your right foot, you opened your eyes and scampered up on the bed - the fastest you’d moved all night - and watched, dazed, as Bradley fumbled with his belt and pulled his pants down, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. You let out a whine at the sight of the wet patch on them, the proof of his arousal and need for you. And oh god, his cock was so big.

So big and pretty and perfect and you desperately wanted it in your mouth. To have him fuck your throat until you had to tap out. You felt the slick still dripping down your thighs and made grabby hands at the waistband of his Calvin’s.

“Can I suck your cock? Please, please, Bradley?”

He swallowed thickly and glanced at the ceiling - the first sign all evening that he was just as fucking gone for you as you were for him.

Please say ‘yes.’ Please say ‘yes.’ Please. Please. Plea-

“And why should you get rewarded? Pretty sure you told me you’d give me five, not two. Not even halfway there yet…”

Reaching out for his hand, you threaded your fingers together and you pulled Bradley down for a kiss. “Please? Please?” you said between kisses as you pulled him closer and wrapped your legs around his hips, but he just grumbled.

He sat up and straddled your lap, but didn’t put his full weight on you. “How ‘bout we take this off before we get any further?” His hands fingered the hem of your chemise.

Reminded of its presence, you could admit that the pretty bow at the back of your neck suddenly felt too tight and confining. You scooched up on the bed to give Bradley better access to take it off, but not before he gave your nipples one final tweak through the lace. Being free of the white chemise meant that you were now totally bare before him. And now, it was like neither of you could get enough of each other, both your hands were everywhere, grabbing at your breasts, running over Bradley’s abs, cupping him through his boxer briefs, kissing and biting and sucking on each other’s lips and neck and shoulders.

Bradley pulled away for a second to get better access to your breasts and you took it as an opportunity to try and roll him over so he was on his back. However, your efforts were all for naught as he wrapped a strong hand around your wrist and held you in place.

“Uh uh, I told you that you’d be on your back for this next one. Got to let you rest up a bit, sweetheart.”

He took the opportunity to lay you back on the bed and drape his body over yours, relishing in the feeling of his muscular legs, his toned chest, his strong arms, and most importantly his throbbing cock. In your current position, there was just enough space between the two of you for you to snake your hand down between your legs and palm at his cock through his boxer briefs. Bradley sucked in a breath and guided your hand in his up and down his shaft.

“Need more of you…”

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me first.”

As if you weren’t ready for him the second you had walked out onto that patio earlier.

With an expert touch, Bradley started working you over, getting ready and soon you were squirming, desperate for more of him - for more of Bradley. It was intoxicating almost. This insatiable need to prove you could do it. That no matter how tired you got, you could come five times for him. Let him wring each one out of you like it was the only thing he was put on this Earth to do.

And right now, his fingers felt heavenly pumping in and out of your pussy while you thrust your hips up to meet his hand. But you knew you needed more. And you knew that Bradley knew that you needed more.

You wrenched your lips away from him and took pleasure in seeing how hard he was breathing. The two of you were a hot and sweaty mess and you desperately needed to remove any final barriers between the two of you.

“Fuck, I want your cock, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. Please.”

There was a brief pause - like time had stood still. Neither of you could deny how absolutely sinful and wanton and desperate his title had just sounded as it slipped from your lips.

Bradley moaned, deep and guttural. He said your name. “Didn’t we just talk about this? You think you deserve it?” You nodded in quick succession. It was all you wanted right now. It was all you could think about right now. Cuming on Bradley’s cock and letting the entire hotel hear you. “I know you can come without it - how about you clean my fingers off first, you got them all dirty again -”

He shoved his cum soaked fingers in your mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself and started sucking. Your tongue swirled around his fingertips, making sure you didn’t miss a drop. Fuck, he had such big hands, such big fingers. Strong too. You would do anything he wanted. You gagged as he shoved his fingers further into your mouth and drool pooled at the corners.

“Don’t sound so smart anymore, huh? Were so perfect at dinner. Imagine if everyone saw you now? Such a fucking slut…”

Bradley took his fingers out of your mouth and wiped them on your chest, right in the valley of your breasts. It was sticky and wet, but you’d let him mark you all over a thousand times just so everyone would know you were his. You whimpered at the thought.

“Now be a good girl and lie back for me.”

You shifted to lie back on the bed - just as he had asked. Your head was cradled by the fluffy, white pillows at the top of the bed and your legs were stretched out in front of you. But you wanted Bradley on top of you. You wanted him inside you. You wanted him, you wanted him, you wanted -

“Knees up.”

Not waiting for you to obey, he held your legs wide open, leaving you completely exposed. You tried to roll your hips up for some sort of friction - anything, really - but Bradley let out a grunt of reproach and you immediately stilled. His pupils were blown wide and his hair was so messy - so unlike Bradley. Did you look that wrecked? Did you look that desperate? You hoped you did.

“Gonna tear you in half, kid.”

His words sent a wave of arousal over your entire body. Your face felt hot, your pulse quickened, your nipples hardened, and your felt your pussy clench on air. It was like you hadn’t already come twice that evening - you were that desperate and that horny for him.

And by the looks of the impressive tent in Bradley’s boxer briefs, he was just as desperate for you. Probably even more so since you hadn’t even taken care of him yet. Selfish, selfish bitch. Under your watchful stare, Bradley slipped off his boxer briefs, discarding them somewhere behind him. And god, did he look beautiful.

You made grabby hands at his cock and he chuckled. “Alright, alright.”

His cock pulsed in your gasp and you swiped your thumb over the slit to rub his pre-cum over the head. Such a pretty cock, wasn’t it? Seven and a half glorious inches with the prettiest veins and head to top it off. Your hand could barely fit around it. You’d become intimately familiar with it over the last six months and you still never got tired of how divine it felt in your mouth or thrusting in and out of your cunt. It was just as pretty as Bradley. The Pride of the Navy, you’d once called it. You could write sonnets about it. (You wouldn’t, but you could.)

Pulling back from your hands with a hiss, Bradley leaned his body over you and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, which then turned to one on your neck, your breasts, and then your tummy.

“Ready?” You nodded. Together, Bradley lifted your hips up slightly and you lined up his cock head with your entrance. And then there was the one thing you could never get used to: the stretch. Your back arched and you let out a breathy gasp.

The two of you fell into a perfect rhythm, knowing the exact way to bring the other to release. Once you got comfortable, Bradley grabbed both your wrists with one hand and held them up over your head.

“Ohhhh, Bradley,” you whimpered. It didn’t sound like you. Your heart was pounding like crazy and your chest was heaving with each breath.

It was addicting. The knowledge that you had to push through to five. Normally, you got sleepy and sluggish and slow after two or three, but pushing yourself to five - for Bradley - was addicting.

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley, you kept repeating his name like a mantra.

Because nothing else was enough. Nothing else would convey how much he meant to you, how good he was making you feel as he drove into you again and again. You’d never felt closer to someone before in your entire life - never felt closer to God or the almighty or whatever you wanted to call them than you did right in that moment with Bradley.

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley. Again and again and again you cried out his name.

I love you, I want you, I need you.

Take me, love me, have me.

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

“God, you’re such a good girl for me…”

That was all you wanted - all you ever wanted - to be Bradley’s good girl and have him lavish praise oupn you. To take care of him and be good for him.

Please let me be good for you.

God, you weren’t going to last for him. Your breathing was coming faster, the way his cock was thrusting into you was coming faster - it was all coming faster.

“How’d I get so lucky to have the most perfect girl in the entire world? Can’t believe I wanted to keep you to myself.”

“Bubs…”

His hands tightened on your wrists. Big, strong. “Because everyone thinks you’re the one in charge, sweetheart - everywhere. In every aspect of our relationship. But you’re not when we’re like this, are you?”

“No, no - you are. ‘Like when you tell me what to do.”

Whenever Bradley wanted to take control of something and let you get lost in the pleasure of him and get lost in him, you did. It didn’t happen all the time - not like this, at least. But he made you feel safe and protected. He was brawny and broad and big and strong and in his arms you never felt like anything bad was going to happen.

And it might be vanilla or boring or whatever, but you loved missionary sex. You loved being that close to Bradley. You loved feeling the weight of his body all over you. You loved being able to look into his eyes as he pounded into you and told you things he would otherwise never say about you. You loved how he would hold your hands above your head and thread your fingers together. You loved how good it all made you feel.

“You’re so strong, make me feel so safe,” you were rambling at this point, unknowingly debunking every insecurity Bradley had earlier in the evening.

Tell me I’m bad if only to patch me up later and tell me I’m good.

You cried out - loudly - as Bradley drove into you deeper and more than ever before.

“Bet you want everyone to hear you now, don’t you.” He paused to collect himself. “Hear how good you’re getting fucked?”

Your words came out slow, just like every thought running through your head. “Want ‘em to hear how well you take care of me. Hear how well you stretch me out.”

“Color?”

“Green,” you whined. You sounded beyond pathetic. He changed the angle, pulled your leg up higher around his hip.

You glanced down to see where the two of you were connected and let out a whimper. At the borderline obscene sight, your arms broke out into goosebumps and you felt your nipples harden. Fuck, he felt so good. You felt so good. And loved and cherished and full. So fucking full. And it was all you could think of - how full you were and Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

“Wanna be - good,” you slurred. The words felt heavy on your tongue, like you were underwater, sinking lower and lower. You arched your back, bringing yourself closer to Bradley.

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

“You are. But right now I wanna take care of you, kid.”

“‘Do - you do. Always.”

You wondered what you looked like right now? Fucked out. Mouth open. Hair rumpled. Makeup smudged. A whiny, desperate mess. What did you look like? What did Bradley see?

You could hear him talking to you, telling you how you were such a good girl for him. Please keep talking. He needed to keep telling you how good you were.

How good your cunt felt around him. How sweet you smelled as he nibbled at your neck. How he couldn’t wait till his cum was dripping out of you. How he couldn’t believe that a whiny whore like you had been wearing white lingerie like some innocent little debutante.

“I could get you to do anything if I promised you my cock, couldn’t I?”

You whined. You still wanted to suck his cock. Would he let you? It always looked so pretty and felt so good in your mouth. As Bradley repositioned your leg, you let out a particularly pathetic cry.

(That one’s got quite the mouth on her.)

Rationally, you knew you could respond with words and say all kinds of things like yes and more and of course, Bradley, anything or just Bradley Bradley Bradley and even that one word you dared not even think. But it was so much easier to just whine and keen and whimper. Your back arched and you stared at the white and gold patterned headboard and then at the mirror above it. Could Bradley - no. He wouldn’t be able to see himself in the mirror.

But you wanted to - you wanted to see yourself in the mirror. See Bradley pounding into you over and over again, your back arched, your breasts pushed out, nipples hard as you played with them. Even your legs over his shoulders.

You imagined you looked pretty, seeing yourself how Bradley saw you. It caused a particularly loud whimper to escape your mouth. Because that was all you could do - whimper, whine, and keen. It was so much. All of it. But you liked it. You really liked it.

“God, sweetheart. You’re fucking milking my cock.” You whined. “Haven’t I taken care of you enough tonight?”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Bradley had taken such good care of you! He always did. Like you were the most precious thing on earth. Please, please, please. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

“S’ good to - me.” Was that your voice? It didn’t even sound like you.

“I know, kid.”

You could feel yourself tighten around his cock and slightly canted your hips up to meet his pelvis. A sudden sense of urgency coursed through your veins and your senses became even more heightened. With your hands pinned above your head, the only way for you to pull him closer was to dig your ankle into the back of his thighs, right near his perfectly tight ass.

It was wet and loud as your bodies collided and you knew if he moved just slightly you’d come: you were that keyed up and overstimulated.

Three. Three. Three.

But somehow, Bradley bet you to completion. “I’m so close,” he finished with your name like a plea. “Can’t wait for you…”

“Take it.” Take it. Take whatever you want. Take me.

His thrusts got sloppy and less precise, but he managed to pound into your g-spot a few more times before he let out a moan and spent himself inside you. You could tell it took a lot out of him, but he deserved it. Bradley deserved everything. Bradley was so perfect and strong and kind and - he was saying your name, trying to get you to finish with him still inside you. You loved the feeling of his cock and cum inside you. It made you feel absolutely divine. You were close. Would he be proud of you if you came just now?

“I got you, I got you,” he muttered.

He kept himself propped up on his left forearm, but brought his right hand - which had previously been holding your wrists above your head - down between your bodies, teasing you until he reached your clit. And just like you thought, it only took a little more for you to come in his arms.

“Gonna - ahhh! Come - please, please, Bradley. Bradley, Bra - ahhhhh,” your last cry was stolen from you as you got lost in the haze of your orgasm.

You felt weightless and floaty after you reached your high. Your legs relaxed from their tight hold on Bradley’s thighs. He pressed what felt like hundreds of kisses to your face, telling you time and time again that he loved you.

“There you go, good girl. Such a good girl. Listen to how pretty you sound.”

Eventually, he rolled off you and settled himself further down the bed so that his head was positioned near your left hip. As you caught your breath, you mindlessly ran your fingers through his hair. He has the softest, prettiest hair. It always got blonder in the sun, like he was kissed by the gods or something. You didn’t know how long you did it, it could’ve been five minutes or fifteen, but eventually Bradley let out a pleased hum and glanced over at your spread legs.

He clicked his tongue. “Can’t believe you’re just wasting all that. All that hard work…”

Your cheeks warmed. He was looking at the cum dripping out of you, staining your thighs. A perfect mix of the two of you - of your want and need and love for each other. Just like a child would be the perfect mix of the two of you.

And you were wasting it. It was dripping out of you right onto the sheets. Selfish, selfish bitch.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, ashamed to have disappointed him.

Bradley rolled over onto his stomach and slotted himself between your spread legs. “So, what’re we gonna do about this, huh?”

Whatever you want. All you could do was shimmy your hips, inviting him to take charge. His eyes were alight with mischief and he sprang up from his position on his stomach to grab your waist and throw you back down on the bed, except this time on your stomach. You let him manhandle you into some sort of child’s pose - ass up, face down into the down pillows. It made you feel vulnerable in the best kind of way.

“How about we try this?” Bradley ran his big, strong hands over your hips. “That’s my girl. Bet you like this, both of your holes completely exposed to me.” He slapped your ass lightly. You moaned when he did it again, except harder. “Color?”

Despite being a little muffled, you still spoke loud enough for him to hear you. “Green.”

Bradley’s hand slipped down to brush against your sensitive clit and then he slid his fingers into your pussy with ease and groaned your name. “So good, look at how much you came.” Your back arched and you burrowed your face even further into the fluffy white pillow. “Such a greedy fucking pussy we have here…”

In and out. In and out went his fingers - fucking his cum back inside you. You were whining. You were crying. You were floating.

“It’s all mine, belongs right back inside you.”

“Yours.”

Bradley chuckled. “Yeah, all mine. Mine to take.” His fingers dragged down your walls before sliding back in.

It felt divine.

“Oh - fuck. So much, Bradley.” It wasn’t too much; it wasn’t enough. You were floating. There were no thoughts in your head besides Bradley and coming.

Four. Four. Four.

“Can’t waste any.” Of course not.

You never wanted to waste any of Bradley’s cum. It felt so good inside you. You loved when he filled you up like this. Maybe he’d let you warm his cock later? He deserved it. And more. Anything he wanted.

Anything.

Bradley had done such a good job tonight. He was so perfect, so impressive. So beautiful. Everyone loved him. Bradley. His friends, his colleagues - you. You loved him. You loved him. You loved -

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, but you wanted to tell him. “Perf-ect,” was all you could manage. Love me, love me, love me more. “‘M close.” Again.

“Fuck, I know. Da - I’ll take care of you. Always take care of you.”

You let out a cry. Bradley always took care of you. Such good care of you. Always.

“Bradley, Bradley, Bradley,” you realized you were saying his name out loud and had been for some time. It was pathetic how far gone you were. “F-four. Four.”

But to your horror, when you took a breath to center yourself, you couldn’t. You couldn’t get back to yourself. You were still overwhelmed, almost like your body was taking too long to catch up to what was happening. It felt like you were on fire. Like you had run a marathon. Your breaths came in pants and you wanted more, you needed more. But how? If you already felt this overstimulated, how could you need more? Maybe it was the position? Ass up, face down? The throbbing and thrumming of your clit was driving you insane. And Bradley’s big, strong hands and fingers were overstimulating you in a way you’d never felt before.

Tell him. Tell him to stop. Tell him. He’ll do it. Tell him. Tell -

“- Bra-adley,” your voice sounded small, like it wasn’t connected to you, but it was still insistent, “I - I can’t do it anymore - please, I - yellow.”

His fingers stopped slowly - not so abruptly that you’d be in even more discomfort - and carefully turned you over so you were on your back with your legs laid out on the bed. Bradley propped himself up on his side and looked you over intently. Your heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. Your eyes fluttered closed.

It was quiet in the room except for both of your labored breathing. But even in your haze, you could tell it was too quiet.

Yellow.

You had never had to say it before. But you felt too overwhelmed. Like you were going to burst and cry and that Bradley would be disappointed in you that you couldn’t last. You felt your eyes fill with tears. You’d only gotten to four - if what you just felt could even be classified as four. You’d promised. You said you would try - and you failed.

Four. Four. Four.

You glanced up to see Bradley’s eyes were wide with concern. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, what is it?”

“Slower. ‘S too much. ” It had been. But you still wanted him beside you. Holding you, reassuring you, loving you.

“Want me to hold you?” He read your mind. He was so sweet and kind and you loved him. You loved him so much. You started to nod, but then remembered your words. “Please?”

Take care of me, hold me, love me.

Fuck. Even shuffling closer to Bradley made you cry out. You were so sensitive. And so overstimulated. But you still wanted to come again. You just needed to go slower.

Bradley’s hands grabbed your hips, pulling your ass against his crotch, and he wrapped his arms around your stomach. Oh, you felt so warm - warm and safe and loved. You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your lips, pressing a light kiss across each of his knuckles. At the same time, Bradley peppered kisses up and down your neck and across your left shoulder.

Had he marked you? You wanted him to mark you. All over your thighs, your neck, your breasts. Show everyone you were his. His good girl. Your cunt was still throbbing and needed to be filled again by him - by Bradley.

Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

It seemed like no time and so much time had passed since you’d been chanting his name, since he’d held your wrists in his big hands, since he’d kissed your breasts, since he’d filled you up with his cum. You whimpered, lost in the thought.

“‘Still need to come again - one more time for you.”

He made shushing noises. “‘s okay, kid. Like doing this too.”

It was hard to tell how long you laid there wrapped in each other’s arms. Safe and warm and loved. Bradley even started humming at one point. The song was pretty even if you didn’t know it. But everything Bradley did was pretty to you right now.

Eventually, you got a little too desperate again and started squirming against him. The rumble from his amused chuckles made you relax again, but you could tell he was more than ready whenever you were.

“Feel too empty…”

“Want me back inside you?” You nodded and twisted your head to press kisses to Bradley’s neck. “Front? Or behind?”

“Behind,” you whispered. It would make you feel smaller, more precious, to have his arms wrapped around you.

“Why don’t I let you set the pace this time, huh?”

His fingers ghosted over your sensitive clit and you whimpered. “Okay…”

Something about the way you were positioned this time made everything more intimate. You felt more dear. Not that you didn’t love missionary and whenever Bradley’s eyes were on you as you fell apart. But having his arms wrapped around you and being cocooned in his warmth and essence was absolutely divine after how wrecked you were.

It was overwhelming, but in the best kind of way this time. You were crying. There were tears streaming down your cheeks. And you felt so good. So good. Like you could stay like this forever. Like you would do anything to feel this good again. To make Bradley feel this good again. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

Did he feel good? Were you making him happy? Oh, you hoped you were. That’s all you wanted. To make him feel good and be good for him. You wanted to be good for him. Always. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

You should tell him that. Tell him how you wanted to be good for him. He had to know. He had to know because what if he didn’t and he thought you were selfish? He had made you feel good so many times tonight. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

Because no. You couldn’t come again until he did. Until he spent himself inside you and filled you up. You liked when he did that. When he made you feel full. With his cock nestled inside you. You wanted him inside you forever if it meant you’d feel that good.

Five. Five. Five.

You were so close. So close to doing what he had asked. What he had thought about all evening at dinner. Did he imagine this as he was getting his award? Did he imagine fucking you like this as you danced? Did he imagine he’d have fallen in love with the girl from the bar all those months ago?

Five. Five. Five.

It went on like that for a little longer, both of you letting out gasps and moans and whimpers as you neared closer and closer to completion. Bradley thumbed over your clit with his right hand, playing with the nub. Combined with the way he was kneading your breasts and sucking on your neck, you knew you were close.

You gasped as your pussy fluttered around his cock, except this time it felt different. Deeper. Harder. More intense. The pull behind your belly button crashed through you and you felt like you jumped out of your body for a moment. You clenched down on him, moaning as he plunged deeper inside you.

“Sweetheart, you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

Then don’t, the words were on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t get them out. Instead, all Bradley got from you was another slow and deep roll of your hips, followed by a strangled cry. He kept murmuring your name in your ear, saying how good you felt around his cock, how warm you were, how sweet you tasted as he licked your neck. Again, you could tell he was close as his thrusts got sloppier.

Five. Five. Five. Almost there. Almost there - oh!

“Bradley,” you cried out, gripping his hand on your breasts to try and anchor yourself to something because you felt like you were about to jump out of your skin. His dick was so big and stretched you just so.

“Five,” Bradley said. He bit your shoulder and you spasmed around him, before he followed suit, shooting his cum inside you. You whimpered at the sensation, feeling so full and dirty and beautiful, and shook in Bradley’s arms.

After both of you caught your breath, Bradley slipped out of you and the two of you laid on the bed, heads on the pillows, bodies tucked under the sheets, chests rising heavily as you stared at the ceiling in awe.

You had never felt like this before. Five. Five. Five. Bradley. Bradley. Bradley.

“Fuck,” Bradley stretched the word out. He crossed his forearms over his forehead and took another deep breath. “That - that was -” he broke off.

You arched your back one final time and stretched out on the bed before rolling back over towards him. You nuzzled his neck, trying to get as close to him as possible. But it wasn’t enough - you needed to be closer. You wanted to have his arms wrapped around you. You wanted to lick where the sweat was beading on his neck. You wanted him to consume you. Tell you that you were good. That you had done a good job.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you whispered back.

He tucked your hair behind your ear. “You alright, kid?” You smiled and nodded. “You did such a good job - always do such a good job.”

You preened under the praise and started peppering kisses across Bradley’s shoulder and neck. He was so pretty and warm and smelled so good. So pretty, so warm. Bradley, Bradley, Bradley.

After a moment, he tipped your chin up so you could meet his eyes and then pressed his lips to yours. Without breaking the kiss, you sprawled out on top of him with your legs on either side of his hips. Some of the cum still inside you even made its way onto his stomach with the new position - you weren’t supposed to waste any of it. You promised you wouldn’t -

It took Bradley saying your name twice for you to pull back for a moment. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up?”

You laid your cheek down on his chest and started tracing the freckles on his biceps with your finger. “Wanna sleep right here.”

“You can,” he gave you a quick peck on the lips, “we just gotta do a couple things first, alright?”

Bradley rolled over so now he was leaning over you and pressed a kiss to your lips before he climbed out of bed. He pulled you over towards the edge of the bed and let your feet dangle off the side. “Now where’s my - aha.”

He grabbed his white tuxedo shirt that had been discarded on the floor earlier and brought it over to you.

“Arms out, kid.” Slowly, like you were wading through water, you held your arms up and Bradley slipped the shirt on you before fastening a couple buttons. “Alright, sit tight.”

He gave the wall lamp to your right another click and you squeezed your eyes shut at the slightly increased brightness.

“Sorry,” he muttered, before picking up the phone hidden in the bedside nook and dialing for room service. “Yeah, hi. Can I get a large order of fries and two ginger ales - wait, do you have Gatorade? Oh - no, she only likes the blue - yeah, then just the ginger ales and fries? Uhhh room 4114, I think? Yeah, under Bradshaw. Okay, thanks - yeah, have a good night.” He hung up the phone.

Food. He ordered food. And a soda. You were hungry. And tired. Really tired. Your thighs ached.

“Here.” Bradley grabbed a water bottle off the nightstand and gave it to you, cap off. You took a few greedy sips and then handed it back to him and he finished off the bottle.

You were still sitting on the edge of the bed. You hadn’t moved. It was like you were still waiting for Bradley to tell you what to do next. Was Bradley happy with you? Did he still want you so close to him? Would he hold you? You wanted him to hold you.

“Hey.” He was suddenly sitting next to you. Or maybe not - you felt like you were floating and had just gotten back on solid ground. Bradley grasped your chin. “Ahh, there she is. I’m gonna rinse off, you wanna come with me or stay in bed?”

You cleared your throat. “Wanna go with you.”

He smiled and kissed you on your forehead. “Then let’s clean you up first - I’ll be right back.”

And true to his word - and more importantly before you could muster up a reply to tell him not to go - Bradley came right back holding a slightly wet hand towel.

“Alright, kid, lay back.”

You flopped back on the duvet, but your legs remained hanging off the edge of the bed. At first, you squirmed at the sudden warmth from the towel, but as Bradley ran it across your upper thighs and towards your still wet core, you couldn’t help but find it soothing.

It felt nice - comforting - as he cared for you. You sighed and stretched, feeling like a cat. Languid and warm. Bradley chuckled and eventually stopped, but not before pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.

“All set, come on.”

He stood up from his spot between your legs and held his hands out for you to grab so you could sit up. Then you followed him into the bathroom. He got you situated on the counter before he hopped into the glass shower without even turning it on or allowing it to heat up.

“You wanna come in with me?” You shook your head. No. The water was cold. You were warm - or at least you had been when you were in bed. And sure, you could have stayed there. But you wanted to be with Bradley.

So, after quickly going to the toilet while he got situated, you sat on the marble countertop, legs crossed at your ankles, and watched him. Watched the soap run down his body - down his tan chest and thick thighs - as he cleaned his body and scrubbed his face.

Without a doubt, Bradley was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen. And he was yours. He was your boyfriend. He loved you. He wanted to spend time with you. And be with you. You you you you you.

“You sure you don’t wanna come in with me?” Bradley teased you. “Or are you just gonna stare at me?”

Had you been more coherent, you probably would have made a quip about how he was the one with the soapy titties this time, but you just shook your head and said:

“You’re so beautiful.”

You could see the blush creep up his neck at your sudden honesty. The water shut off a moment later and then Bradley grabbed a fluffy white towel off the rack and dried off in the shower. He dried his hair first, making it all messy and fluffy, before he wrapped the towel around his waist and approached you.

You swung your legs back and forth. “I look too pretty to go to bed.”

“Mmmhmm, way too pretty.” He kissed your forehead and then your lips. “But you’re gonna be mad at me if I let you go to bed with your makeup on…”

He had a point, loathe as you were to admit it. But instead of doing your skincare routine yourself, Bradley was the one who got out your makeup remover and serum and night cream. Granted, he snuck a little for himself and rubbed at your eyes a little too hard to get your mascara off, but he did a good job.

You had to draw the line at letting him brush your teeth for you, though, and did it yourself.

And then finally, Bradley held his hand out for you to hop off the counter and the two of you went back to the bedroom where he threw on a pair of sleep shorts. You were still a little slow to the chase, so while he made the bed with the fresh sheets in the closet, you held two of the pillows close to your chest and watched from the foot of the bed.

Luckily, Bradley shared your appreciation for hospital corners and tight sheets on a bed and once it was made to both your tastes, you slipped back in between the sheets.

They felt just as scratchy as they had earlier in the evening, but were just how you liked them. Bradley made sure you were settled before he walked around to his side of the bed and let you snuggle up beside him. His body was so warm and he smelled so good and you felt your eyelids getting heavy. It was a miracle you hadn’t truly fallen asleep yet. You always got a little sleepy after you orgasmed once - let alone five times.

Fuck - that had really happened. Bradley really loved you that much. More to the point, you really loved Bradley that much.

“Bradley?” He hummed and looked down at you. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”

“Come here.” You scooched up and kissed him sloppily. Eventually, he let you go and you let out a sigh as your shirt rubbed against your sensitive breasts. “Rest. I’ll wake you up when the food’s here.”

That sounded really nice. “Mmm, okay.” You yawned. “Love you, bubs.”

“Love you too, kid.” And then he pressed a kiss to your forehead and you were asleep before you knew it.

Some time later, a soft knock echoed throughout the room, but it didn’t seem loud enough to be coming from your door. You let out a soft grunt as you felt Bradley sit up in bed and begrudgingly opened your eyes.

The knock repeated - again, sounding a bit far off still and couldn’t be at your door with room service - and Bradley glanced at you and you shrugged before he eventually got up to investigate. Shuffling across the room and down the short hallway, Bradley threw on a grey crewneck sweatshirt and swung open the door.

A cacophony of voices soon hit your ears and that was when you realized that the bellhop wasn’t at your door delivering your french fries and ginger ales - he was at Jake and Sarah’s.

“ - I’m telling you I didn’t order this and I don’t want to be charged for it -”

You took that as your queue to join Bradley at the door and scampered out of bed. Mindful of the fact that Bradley’s shirt just barely covered your ass, you hid behind him. You were nosy - sue you.

Once you fell into Jake’s line of sight, you saw the eating grin on the blond’s face. He was clad in a pair of shorts and a ratty t-shirt. He didn’t look as handsome as Bradley did.

“Well, now, look who it is? Rooster, this order of fries for you? Or Miss Chatty fucking Cathy?”

Bradley puffed out his chest, but largely ignored Jake and instead turned towards the bellhop, who was apologizing profusely about the mix up.

Miss Chatty fucking Cathy who did he think he was?

“- This for Bradshaw?”

The bellhop nodded and handed Bradley the slip to sign before he took off. He even left the cart there, which he probably wasn’t supposed to do. Taking a page out of Bradley’s book, you also patently ignored Jake and glanced at the french fries and ginger ales and glasses of pellet ice on the cart. You turned your focus back onto Bradley, completely ignoring what he was saying to Jake. It was like the blond man didn’t even exist to you at the moment.

God, Bradley was so smart, so kind, so thoughtful. He took such good care of you. The way he kissed that stretch mark you hated on your stomach or the way he knew to lift your hips up the first time he slipped inside you. He treated you like you were the most precious thing in the world - except when he didn’t and even then you still melted and keened in his arms.

Oh, he was so perfect and handsome and beautiful. It was unreal how much you loved him - sometimes you wondered how he was yours? Just yours? He was so pretty and handsome. Pretty boy.

His hair was still wet from his shower and the perfect amount of messy. Maybe he’d play with your hair later? Would he let you wear his sweatshirt? It was probably warm and soft and smelled like him. Like his fancy cologne and something so Bradley. You just wanted him to -

“- Jesus, Bradshaw, what’d you do to the poor girl?”

You blinked, realizing you had been staring at Bradley’s face - his beautiful, pretty face - for god knows how long and tucked yourself behind him. Luckily, you were too far out of it to be too embarrassed (that would come tomorrow).

“I mean I heard what you were doing to her, but didn’t realize you also mauled her - Jesus, look at her thi -”

“- Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence.” You felt yourself heat up at the timbre of Bradley’s voice. His entire body was tense and you squeezed his hand.

He was so protective, so strong. He loved to take care of you. He always wanted to take care of you.

Take care of you. Take you. Take you. Take you.

“Apologize.” His voice was like steel. “Now.”

Jake looked like he wanted to scoff or even laugh, but something in Bradley’s face must have scared him. “Fine, fine,” he turned to look at you, “my sincere apologies, darlin.’” You didn’t appreciate the nickname and neither did Bradley judging on the growl he let out. “Alright, Jesus, fuck. I’m sorry for any inappropriate comments I may have directed towards you, okay?” You glanced up at Bradley and then fleetingly back at Jake before nodding.

“Alright, good - just promise you’ll knock twice on the wall if there’s going to be an encore, so I can know if I need to change rooms or not - enjoy the -” Bradley slammed the door shut in his face “- fries!”

“Fuck off,” he muttered and took your hand. It might have been a bit overkill for the short trip back to bed, but you couldn’t help but smile. “Sorry about that, you good?” You nodded.

The room service cart rattled as it made the trip further in the room and your mouth watered at the smell of the fries. You failed to stifle a giggle once you heard Bradley’s stomach growl.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, “you’re the one that made me work up an appetite!”

Both of you sat on the bed and got situated with your sodas on each nightstand and laid the fries between the two of you. For the first time, you noticed Bradley had turned the TV on low and watched as the closed captioning ran across the bottom of the screen.

“Moonstruck?” He turned towards you and nodded. “I didn’t even hear it.”

He blushed. “You were pretty knocked out.”

You wrapped your legs around Bradley’s under the covers. “Well, no one’s ever made me feel like that before…”

“Oh, really?” He looked too cocky - though you supposed it may have had some merit that night. You threw a fry at him. “Hey, these are eighteen dollar fries, champ.” You threw another one, which in turn made Bradley take the plate onto his side of the king-sized bed. “Miss Moneybags thinks we can just waste these…” he muttered.

You giggled. You spent the next few minutes wordlessly holding out your hand, waiting for Bradley to give you a couple fries until he got tired of it and just gave you back the plate. It was amazing how half a plate of fries and some ginger ale could have you feeling like your normal self again. You still couldn’t get over how spacey and out of it you had been. The two of you needed to talk about it, do a debrief of sorts.

Trying to get his full attention, you pressed your foot against Bradley’s thigh under the covers. “Owww, Jesus fuck - your feet are cold.”

“Sorry,” you giggled, but continued rubbing them up and down Bradley’s shins. He made a funny face, but kept his eyes on the movie, trying to play it cool.

You then handed him the plate of french fries balancing precariously on your side of the bed. Once the plate was placed on the nightstand, Bradley wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. A huge rush of affection surged through you for the man beside you.

He just made you happy. Every little thing about him. He made you happy. He made you better.

“I like when you take care of me.” Your face was buried so deeply in his chest, you didn’t think he had heard you until he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You tilted your head up to look at him. “You’re always so good to me. Make me feel so safe. Never trusted anyone else enough to do that.”

Bradley blushed. “Well, I - I was worried it was too much sometimes and I liked when you told me to slow down - well, liked is the wrong word, but I’m -” he cleared his throat, “we’ve never had to do that, but I’m glad you said something.”

“I am too. Like I said, you always make me feel safe.”

The two of you turned your focus back to the movie. It was your favorite part - Loretta was waiting for Johnny at Lincoln Center. It was all so romantic: La Boheme and Christmas lights -

Bradley cleared his throat, but kept watching the TV. “I know we don’t do that a lot…” That was putting things mildly. “But I really liked it - making you feel good - because it makes me feel go -”

“- You can say it turned you on, Bradley. It was rather obvious.” He finally turned to look at you. His cheeks were red - something you wouldn’t have found possible after all you had done together that evening. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Well…I’m pretty sure everyone in our hallway could hear how much it turned you on, so don’t think that’ll matter too much...”

Your mouth gaped open in shock and then you both dissolved into giggles. Your hands snuck under the covers and tickled Bradley’s sides, getting even more giggles out of him and he quickly followed suit.

“And can I - Bradley!” He stopped tickling you, but you had to take a breath to control your giggling. “Can I tell you something else?” He hummed. “I liked imagining you were watching us in the mirror above the bed.”

A smile slowly crept across his face. “Really?”

“Mmmhhmm. ‘Kept thinking about what I looked like, what you looked like - all of it.” You felt your cheeks heating up at the thought. You had a full length mirror in your walk-in closet that could definitely provide a different point of view.

It was like Bradley had read your thoughts when he said: “Maybe we can figure out something for our anniversary…”

“Six months.”

He kissed you. “Six months.”

“Are you gonna give me six orgasms then?” You wouldn't make it to seven months in your relationship if Bradley tried to give you six orgasms.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for that, kid.”

You giggled. “Probably not.”

The two of you went back to mindlessly snacking on your fries and watching the movie. The fries were absolutely delicious and you were tickled that they remembered to give you mayo, something Bradley always made fun of you for liking.

By now, Loretta had found her father at intermission and both of them agreed not to have seen each other. Your favorite part was coming up soon, but seeing the awkward scene in the movie, you couldn’t help, but think of your own similar moment from earlier.

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with Jake...”

Bradley’s jaw twitched and he took a long sip of his ginger ale before replying. “‘s not your fault Hangman’s an ass.”

“Still, I feel bad.” Your voice came out small.

“You,” he kissed your cheek, “are absolutely perfect and,” he kissed your nose, “I will gladly take any teasing Hangman sends my way if it means I get to think of you like that again.” He kissed your lips. “Got it?”

You ducked your head. “Got it.”

“Alright, good. Now there’s something really important I need to talk to you about…”

The impish smile on Bradley’s face prevented you from truly spiraling and instead you couldn’t help but giggle. “Go on.”

“How can I get you to wear that dress for me again? Because - not that I’m complaining - but I didn’t even get to take it off y - hey!”

You slid your hands underneath the duvet and started tickling Bradley’s sides in earnest. He soon joined in, attacking you instead.

The sound of your collective laughter and giggles and shrieks would surely keep your neighbors up for a little longer still.

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

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast delivered to your room - thankfully not by the same busboy - you supervised the bellhops as they put your various garment bags and assorted weekenders into the Bronco while Bradley checked out.

It had been a hell of a weekend. You had fucking ran Bradley ragged last night, to say nothing about the sloppy blow job he’d finally let you give him that morning. He had gotten an award, gotten to dance with you, gotten a slightly better handle on his nerves, and even gotten to one-up Hangman.

So, in Bradley’s books it was a win and he was more than happy to sign for the hundred and fifty dollars worth of room charges you’d both racked up over the last two days. He even got three times the points for it on his card.

From beside him at the checkout counter, Maverick cleared his throat. “So, I heard you kids had a good time last night.” Bradley froze, but Maverick just continued looking over his bill.

Fuck. Bradley had never had parents around to catch him sneaking around or having sex, but this very much felt like he had. He was going to get so much shit now. Because Hangman he could handle, but Mav?

Mav would probably go off on him about respecting girls and not calling them degrading names while having sex - nevermind that the girl in question liked to be called a pathetic slut or a whiny little whore in bed.

Plus, Bradley hadn’t thought he had been that loud, right? He didn’t know where Maverick and Penny had been staying last night, but there wasn’t a room on the other side of yours and there was no way it traveled further down the hallway, right?

(Though to be fair, you had elected to have room service for breakfast due to the smattering of marks Bradley had left on your neck and upper thighs. Because Jake hadn’t necessarily been wrong when he said it looked like Bradley had mauled you. It was another reason you had elected to supervise the luggage - outside. Alone.)

It felt like there were a handful of cotton balls in his mouth. “Wha - where’d you hear that?”

“Penny?” Maverick said as he looked at Bradley like he had seven heads. “She mentioned dancing with you and how nice of a time you were having considering all the - well, all the stress and pageantry.”

“Oh.” His cheeks were burning. “Yeah, yeah. Great time last night. Good time.”

“Yeah…” He then said how nice it had been to spend time with you, too. “Where is she by the way? We missed you guys at breakfast.”

The two men finished up with the desk clerk and then made their way across the lobby to where Penny was standing. You were still outside.

“Oh, we uhh got room service. Had a bit of a lie-in.”

Penny chuckled. “Bet you did - hey, you know Hangman was complaining about some noise last night to everyone at breakfast earlier. You hear anything about -”

“- Oh shit, I gotta go. The car’s ready.” He had no idea if the car was ready. “But I’ll talk to you guys later, nice to see you both. Have a good weekend.”

And before either of them could protest to the kiss Bradley laid on both their foreheads, he was already halfway across the lobby and hellbent on getting to the safety of you and his car.

Yup. His parents had heard him having sex. Monday morning was sure to be fun.

Outside, Bradley searched the valet stand for the Bronco and saw it - and you - further down the line behind a navy Lexus. You weren’t in the car yet and looked to be reading over something on your phone.

“All set,” Bradley called out and you glanced up at him and slipped your phone into your pocket, watching him as he made his way towards you.

You were dressed casually in your same denim shorts and another button down, which was sticking out from underneath his crew neck sweatshirt. The sunglasses perched on the top of your head only added to your artfully disheveled appearance. Though, tragically, the marks on your neck and chest were covered.

“What was the damage?” you asked, referring to the room charges.

Bradley pecked you on the lips. “One fifty.”

“Not awful.”

“Blame the eggs benedict for breakfast.” They had been worth every penny for the record. “All set with the bags?”

“Yup,” you popped the p. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

You leaned back against the passenger door and Bradley crowded into your space before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. He couldn’t resist you. Everything about you made him so happy. Who else wanted to spend the day together after being attached at the hip all weekend?

“Can we go back to yours? Take a nap?” Bradley liked how the sun hit your living room in the late afternoon. There was nothing like snuggling up with you on your couch and watching football on a Sunday afternoon. You had the prettiest candles and softest throw blankets at your place, too. He’d have to get some for the house eventually, but was more than happy to hunker down at your place today.

You nodded and looked exceptionally pleased he had even brought it up. “And I can finally take care of you, bubs.”

There was enough innuendo in that sentence to stop him cold. “You’ve taken care of me plenty this weekend, I need to rest up.”

A gasp of faux indignation slipped past your lips. “And here I was talking about the new sheet masks I got, all while you’re planning to debauch me again!”

Bradley chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before opening your door and waiting for you to get situated in the car. He wheeled around the front of the car to his own side and got in.

“Debauch is a strong word, no?” He started the car and turned up the radio. “Been reading too many romance novels lately?”

“I’m never letting you use my Kindle again…”

He laughed. “Fine, fine. Lemme just take you home, kid, and we can discuss the semantics behind debauched and defiled all you want.”

an: thanks to everyone for reading and all the positive comments and feedback about the teaser the last few days! i'd be remiss if i didn't thank @sometimesanalice, @heartsofminds, @howdysebby, @notroosterbradshaw, @dissonannce, @cherrycola27, and @ofstoriesandstardust for liking and giving me all caps feedback on all the very random screenshots i've sent you guys over the last couple weeks! the next thing i'm going to post for these two is an epistolary while bradley's deployed! x jordan

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x you #bradley fic

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inou-ie · 8 months

Text

Pairing: Rahu x female reader

Warnings: NSFW, Rahu has a cock, prone bone, mating press, biting, overstimulation, breeding.

Author's notes: Rahu gives me that grumpy dog vibes who has a lot of pent-up frustrations. Anyway.. it's canon that Rahu has a dig bick. She used it on me last night, now I can't walk. 🥵😞

MDNI

Rahu doesn't typically initiate intimacy, but if you were to ask her to do it with you, she would readily oblige without hesitation... Today was unlike any other; from the moment you woke up, Rahu had been shadowing your every move, mirroring the loyalty of a faithful dog.

"Is there something wrong?" You asked her softly as the two of you sat on the couch, relishing each other's company. You didn't hold high expectations for her to open up, as she seldom did whenever you asked her but you still did anyway.

Rahu gazed at you and then moved closer, resting her head gently against your shoulder. In a soft, hesitant tone, she muttered, "I... I want to do it... sex." her voice trails off at the last part as she looks away as if embarrassed.

You blinked in surprise, trying to process what she had just said. It was a rare occurrence, as she seemed to be initiating intimacy for the first time.

"Did something happen?" You couldn't help but tease her gently as she carried you in her arms. Her usual intimidating demeanor had given way to a blushing mess who couldn't even meet your gaze due to embarrassment.

"Just shut up..." Rahu muttered under her breath as she kicked open the door to your room, then promptly tossed you onto the bed, making you groan a bit.

Rahu immediately started to remove her clothing while breathing heavily, seeing this new side of Rahu, you couldn't resist teasing her further. "Eager, aren't we?" you chuckled, your eyes tracing over her perfectly toned body, particularly those broad shoulders you had clawed countless of times already.

Perhaps you shouldn't have teased her... Rahu looked at you with a predatory gaze, making you feel like a helpless prey in her eyes, she quickly pushed you down the bed and kissed your lips roughly, making you tear up from the intensity. You tried to match her kisses but to no avail, she held your head firmly as if trying to devour your mouth, the two of you continued your bruising kiss for minutes.

"...breathe... I can't breathe..." You whimper as you keep tapping Rahu's shoulder but she just ignored you and kept kissing you. Biting your lower lip and sucking your tongue like there's no tomorrow. Rahu has never been this rough with you, not even once.

Summoning all your remaining strength, you managed to push her away, gasping for air. However, she appeared unfazed by the interruption, continuing to regard you as if you were nothing more than a helpless bunny she could devour at any moment.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" you asked, your brows furrowing, still trying to catch your breath after the intense moment... but then your attention shifted to her lower body. Her huge cock is throbbing and already leaking pre-cum, just the sight was enough to make you wet, it took some more seconds before you could look at her eyes again.

Rahu finally spoke, her voice cracking but her attempt to maintain an intimidating demeanor remained. "I saw you... flirting with someone I don't know yesterday." she admitted while moving close again.

"What? I wasn't flirtin–" Before you could explain yourself, Rahu already caught your lips in another bruising kiss. Her hand reached for yours, pinning them above your head while her other hand removes your shorts. You moaned into Rahu's mouth, as expected for an S-ranked Sinner... you're clearly no match to her when it comes to strength.

With just one hand holding both of your wrists, she managed to rip all of your clothes with the other. "You're mine... just mine." Rahu whispered in between the kiss. She kissed you for a few more minutes before pulling away.

You pant for air as your tears roll down your cheeks, you can still feel her tongue all over your mouth while your mixed saliva trickles down your chin. "I have to mark you as mine... in and out." Rahu mutters as she positions herself in between your legs.

"W-Wait– Ahn..!" Your eyes quickly rolled to the back of your head when Rahu pushed all of her cock inside you, hitting your cervix right away and making you let out a loud scream. You squirmed around as you try to get away from her grasped and Rahu did indeed let go of your arms. You felt relieved but it only lasted for a second... Rahu moved you into a mating press position, her body completely covering yours as she starts to pump her cock in and out deep in a fast rhythm.

"Rahu.. s-stop! I can't– a-ah..!" You cried out loudly as your toes curl. Rahu stares deeply into your eyes as if trying to see through you while she keeps pounding into you roughly.

"Shut up.. just take it." Rahu scoffs, though deep inside she feels bad and guilty about hurting you in such way but she can't stop anymore. Her hips moved up and down, slamming her hips in ecstasy as she leans her head back while letting out low grunts. "You're so tight.. I love it, you're squeezing me so hard." Rahu mumbles as she closes her eyes to enjoy the feeling of her massive cock being hugged tightly by your pulsating walls.

You feel your limbs weakening, your body slowly turning limp from all the intense sensation but then you felt something more intense...

Rahu started to cum inside you while letting out low growls and grunts, holding you in place firmly as she pushed as hard as she can against your cervix before thick ropes of cum spurts out of her. Your body twitches in every spurt, your mouth wide open as you can only let out cries and moans while tears flow down your cheeks.

Rahu pumps a few more until the last drop went inside you, she pants for air as she looks down at you... her predatory gaze remained, making you gulp nervously.

"More..." You heard Rahu mutter under her breath before turning you around, making you lie flat on your front, your hips tilted slightly upward, offering Rahu great angle for penetration. "It's not enough.. I have to paint your insides with my essence.." Rahu added as she positions herself once more from behind, you feel her strong arms snaking around your head as she puts her weight on you... her cock sliding back in easily.

"t-this position is too much for me right now.." You tried to talk your way out but Rahu already started to move inside you, her arms locking around your head tightly, her thighs pinning yours while your clit rubs against the bed every time her hips goes down, giving you more stimulation.

You kept tapping Rahu's arms that are around your head while you keep pleading for mercy, you already came from her intense pounding.. cumming again from this position would be too much, you feel your thoughts leaving your mind as the head of her cock kept hitting your cervix in such strong strokes that leave you breathless.

Rahu gives you a hard bite on your shoulder, making your already closing eyes snap open as you let out a loud grunt of pain but Rahu just kept going, thrusting in and out of you... deeper and deeper until the both of you came at the same time. Everything around you went black for a moment, the only feeling left is the feeling of being filled to the brim by such hot and thick cum. Your body trembles uncontrollably as you grip the sheets tight to keep yourself sane but when you felt Rahu's cock moving inside you again... you knew this isn't the end yet.. she won't stop until the bed turns white from all the cumming the both of you are about to do.

#path to nowhere #path to nowhere smut #rahu #path to nowhere rahu #ptn rahu #inou works #ptn rahu x female reader #ptn smut #rahu smut

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dottores · 11 months

Text

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine.

notes: i forgot it was friday SOBS i got distracted reading a new book so we're a little late but anyway <.< its time also i’m gonna answer asks tomorrow i promise 😭

THE DOCTOR

You sighed softly, smoothing out the cloth draped against you as you took a look in the mirror again. There was nothing left to fix--your hair was done, the jewel of your necklace laid neatly in the middle of your chest and your gown was fitted perfectly. You thought you should be alarmed, you didn’t know how the masked person had all of your measurements. You assumed that they had been the one to drop off the gown at the inn you were staying at in Snezhnaya City so you could be properly dressed for the event at Zapolyarny Palace.

You rose to your feet, gnawing at your bottom lip as you looked into the mirror one last time. They had given you a purple gown to wear--and not just any purple, the color of your family, the exact shade. You didn’t like it. You wondered if it was on purpose or just a coincidence but you figured that nothing about this person was a coincidence. They knew everything about you from who you were to the reason you came to Snezhnaya, a secret that you thought had been kept safely between you and your grandfather.

Your eyes turned to the window, catching a rather fancy looking carriage making its way down the stone road in the direction of the inn you were staying at. You figured that was going to be him--whoever the aristocrat was that the masked person had said would be bringing you to the event.

How?

The events were invite only, strictly moderated, how this person had managed to get you in was a mystery. You didn’t know what to expect--you didn’t know how many people would be there nor did you know if all of the Harbingers would be attending. You assumed that they would so you could prepare for the worst case scenario but you hoped that they didn’t.

You didn’t know much about the Fatui Harbingers, just what your grandfather had learned from one of the few networks of intel he had access to that weaved through Snezhnaya. There were eleven of them, but only ten were active--ranked by strength, they struck fear and awe in the hearts of their subordinates. There were rumors that some of the higher ranked ones could rival even the Archons in power. Your grandfather warned you of a few before you left for the north: the Doctor, the Balladeer, the Fair Lady and the Friar, all brutal and dangerous and unforgiving, should they learn of your plans in the north, you would quickly find yourself a fallen pawn in whatever game of chess they were playing against the rest of Teyvat.

You thought your best bet might lay with the Regrator. Evidently, he was the most recently promoted Harbinger of the active ten and focused more on the economy and politics than anything else… or so was assumed, at least. Snezhnaya had prospered since his promotion--the creation of the Northland Bank and its expansion across Teyvat had catapulted Snezhnaya to match the wealth of Liyue, they were even trying to set one up in Fontaine but were failing miserably. You were sure he was just as cruel and vicious as the rest of them but you thought that at least you wouldn’t be dealing with unfamiliar topics.

How you were going to ensure that you were placed with him… or even placed at all instead of being killed on sight, you didn’t know. You figured that was something important to know before you stepped foot in Zapolyarny Palace but you excused the lack of preparation by telling yourself there was no way for you to prepare for something when you didn’t know what to expect. You would figure out the plan as soon as you got there and knew who was there, what the event was for, and what you could do to ensure your survival and success.

Your head hurt but the carriage had come to a stop at the steps of the inn you were staying at and you knew you had to get moving. You let out another heavy breath as you took one last look in the mirror before making your way out of your room and down the steps of the inn.

You gave a soft smile to the elderly man working the front desk as you made your way through the wide lobby, hesitating only for a second when you saw a tall figure ducking out from inside of the carriage. Swallowing thickly, you pushed the doors open, wincing at brisk air stinging your face as soon as you stepped outside.

A brown head of hair whipped around at the sound of the doors shutting behind you, an awkward smile pulled at the lips of your date for the night, warm brown eyes focusing on you, “Hello,” he said, his voice was a bit hesitant and nervous, holding his hand out toward you. “I’m Artem.”

You placed your hand in his, watching as he bent his head down to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles, “I’m-”

“I know who you are,” Artem interrupted, then flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, they… already told me who you were.”

They, you repeated silently as a particularly harsh wind swept through the city, the streets eerily silent.

“They…” you murmured to yourself but Artem suddenly looked nervous, brown eyes flitting around before he motioned for you to join him in the carriage. You inhaled the bitterly cold air as you stepped forward, taking his hand as he helped you up into the carriage before following you in, shutting the dark door behind the two of you.

“You shouldn’t talk about stuff out in the open,” Artem said quietly. “There are always people listening.”

Great, you thought to yourself, gaze twisting around outside. The streets were barren but even you knew there was something off about this city that you couldn’t quite place. For a moment, you caught sight of a figure standing in the window of one of the apartments across the street. You couldn’t make out their features against the backlight but you knew their eyes were directed toward the carriage.

You’d been in the city for two days now and it felt eerily similar to the streets of Fontaine. You didn’t often leave the palace of the Hydro Archon, everything you needed was within it: food, water, libraries, the gardens, but every once in a while, you would escape to go watch a show at one of the theaters. The Hydro Archon liked to keep the nobles of the nation ignorant to the perils of the rest of the civilians and it worked when you were in the ivory tower of the palace but when you were down in the streets, it was impossible to miss how the civilians were on edge, eyes constantly darting around in an anxious panic. There were eyes everywhere--in every window, in every alley, in every corner and crevice and no matter how aware you were of them, there was no hiding from them.

Snezhnaya City was just like that.

Oppressive. Tense. Heavy. Cold beyond just the air around you. But unlike Fontaine, Snezhnaya was not your home. Your name and title held no weight in this city and the threat of the Fatui and what they could do to you weighed on you like the sky had fallen.

“What is this event?” you finally asked, fingers playing with the fabric of your dress as you watched Artem from the corner of your eye.

“They’re filling the last spot,” Artem responded, staring ahead. He didn’t look excited or pleased and you couldn’t help but wonder what the political climate was like here, the relationship between the Snezhnayan aristocrats and the Cryo Archon and her followers--maybe it was something you could use to your advantage… or maybe it would be something that would just damn you even further, showing up with one of them. “For the Harbingers, they’re promoting someone to fill the Eleventh seat.”

Oh, you realized what exactly he meant by filling the last spot, an intense dread sweeping through you because that meant that yes, all of the other Harbingers would likely be there. Instead of dwelling on the subject, you said, “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

Artem turned his head to look at you, evaluating you carefully before shaking his head, “What’s there to be happy about?” he asked dryly. “The stronger they get, the weaker my family gets.”

They’re not united, you realized, and they’re not afraid to admit it.

That was interesting. Artem’s face didn’t twist in regret after he said that nor did he look ashamed, if anything he looked resentful… but then doubt began to stir. If the Fatui knew about the dissent, why would they invite them to their elite events?

“They let you guys into their events knowing… that?” you asked, side-eyeing Artem, wondering if you had dug yourself a bigger hole by showing up with him.

“They don’t know all of it,” Artem said, “and even if they did, it’s more of an intimidation tactic than anything else. They bring us there to show us their strength, scare us into submission. That’s all it’s about.”

“All of it as in?” you pushed, figuring that if he was going to be so open with information, that you might as well get as much as you can so you knew exactly what you were walking into.

Artem gave you a look as if you should know what he meant. “They think that the Triglav was the only organization we had to fall back on--the Regrator tore it apart a few years ago.”

Why are you telling me all of this? You wanted to ask, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Brown eyes met yours at the silent question, he knew what you were asking.

“They told me who you were,” he said again, except this time, you felt a bit more cold, realizing he knew more than just your name. “I figure they want you to fumble around in the Snezhnayan courts for their amusement but it’ll get you killed--I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” you questioned. You didn’t know if you could trust him or believe his words and you felt so damn alone and lost that a part of you wanted to jump out of the carriage and flee back to Fontaine--you didn’t know what you were thinking, you were a damn noble girl not some secret agent, super spy who could successfully infiltrate one of the most dangerous organizations in all of Teyvat.

“You want the same thing as I do, don’t you?” was all Artem responded with. “No one knows what they want, what their goal is or anything, but they promised to restore the aristocracy and to do that, the Fatui needs to be weakened… so I figure the more people working for this, the better.”

Your nose wrinkled, “You aligned with these people without even knowing who they are or what they want?” you asked in disbelief.

“Didn’t you?” Artem countered sharply.

You felt hot, called out for your hypocrisy, “That’s not the same. I was desperate.”

“So are we,” Artem said, lips pressed together as he turned away.

The carriage was approaching the palace, as large as the one back home in Fontaine and just as magnificent. Where the one in Fontaine City was lined with gold, stunning beneath the rare show of the sun, Zapolyarny Palace glittered white beneath the moonlight, like a million diamonds coated the surface--beautiful, but possibly the most daunting sight you’d ever come across. The sky that weighed on you tripled in weight, you thought you might throw up.

“What should I expect in there?” you asked quietly, breaking the sudden tension between the two of you. You figured it was not the best idea to antagonize your one ally in this place.

Artem sighed, looking back over at you, “Just stay by me,” he said. “Of all the aristocratic families in Snezhnaya, mine is one that’s heavily aligned with the Fatui… at least in their eyes. We’ll probably have a few of their more important subordinates coming over to talk to us but the Harbingers will be focused on the more antagonistic families to make sure they don’t pull anything. We’ll keep away from them and hopefully, keep their attention off of us. As long as we skate by without having to deal with any of the Harbingers, we’ll be good… I’ll try to find some opportunities for you to slip away and do what you need to do.”

What I need to do, it echoed in your head. The palace was right before you and you still had no idea what you needed to do to prove your stepfather’s hand in your father’s death. You had to find evidence. But how? You figured that there weren’t a lot of Fatui spies in Fontaine--too many would draw too much attention, it would be easier to just have one embedded deep in the courts… which would make it an important, covert operation. They had to have records of that somewhere.

“Do you know what each of the Harbingers do?” you asked.

“Like what they oversee?” Artem questioned, brows furrowed, you nodded. “Vaguely.”

“Intel?”

“Internal intel? I’d say the Regrator or the Rooster. External? The Knave, the Marionette and the Friar all deal with it, as far as I’m aware.”

You went quiet, letting out a shaky breath at his words. Three different Harbingers who could be overseeing your stepfather in Fontaine--the Fourth, the Seventh, or the Tenth. You shut your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. The palace would be crawling with Fatui operatives, how the hell were you supposed to sneak through them all and figure out where the information might be.

Instead of letting yourself become riddled with anxiety, you asked the last question that had been weighing on your mind.

“How don’t the Fatui know about these people?” you asked quietly. “I figured they knew everything that goes on in Snezhnaya, you’d think an organization with this much influence…”

Unless there’s someone hiding it from the inside? But what were the chances of that?

“I don’t know,” Artem admitted. “Maybe they do and we’re all just getting played, or maybe the Harbingers are blind to a rat right beneath their noses.”

“You could do something beyond just standing there,” a cold, dry voice said from behind him.

Dottore didn’t even bother to turn around and face her, instead watching the scene before him carefully. The aristocrats had been steadily arriving for an hour, filling up the ballroom, mingling with one another. Most kept a wide berth from the Fatui who had come out for the event. It was the largest event the Fatui had hosted in decades, twice as big as Pantalone’s promotion because it was signaling the completion of the upper echelon, the start of what would be the final preparations for war.

“I don’t see you rushing to join in the celebrations,” Dottore responded, gaze finally shifting from the wide double doors to Arlecchino, who had come to stand next to him, arms crossed against her chest as she watched Columbina’s fingers fly across the piano.

“I plan to,” Arlecchino told him, “I have a feeling tonight's going to be more interesting than we think.”

Dottore eyed her carefully as he digested the cryptic comment, trying to figure out what exactly she meant, before simply saying, “I hope so, at least then it will be an entertaining waste of my time.”

Arlecchino only let out a huff of laughter, but there was no amusement behind the action, “What do you think of the boy taking the Eleventh Seat?”

“He’s a child.” Dottore waved off the question, he cared not for the boy.

Capitano evidently saw potential in him but Dottore only saw an unpredictability that they shouldn’t be risking this close to the beginning of their real purpose. He only advocated for him because he thought he would get the chance to study him but Pulcinella was being careful to make sure that he was never in the capital long enough for Dottore to get to him. The only boon that came along with promoting him was that he was eager to please, willing to take on the jobs that none of the rest of them wanted to deal with as a means to prove himself.

“Then his moniker is fitting,” this time there was a scathing sort of amusement in her tone, “but even a blind man could make that observation. I asked you for your opinion of him.”

Dottore’s lip twitched in irritation. “That is my opinion of him,” he said coolly. “He is a child. He is immature and foolish, abuses the technique he learned while in the Abyss. He will die soon because of it. I would like to run some tests on him before then but I suppose life isn’t particularly necessary for them anyway… just more convenient.”

Arlecchino scoffed. “All you care about is your research, hm? Not even a hint of concern for those whom you call comrades?”

Dottore leveled his gaze on her. “No,” he said firmly, “and do not pretend as if you do. We both have seen what lies beneath that false face of yours.”

Arlecchino smiled, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the ballroom, “Fair enough.”

“Don’t you have something better to do than bother me, Knave?” Dottore asked, a sardonic tone seeping into his words as he continued, “like to go fetch your pet before he makes an embarrassment of us again.”

He turned his attention back to the ballroom floor, pointedly looking in the direction of Brighella, busy trying to woo the daughter of one of the aristocratic families who was giving Pantalone a hard time.

“Speaking of pets,” Arlecchino said, a mocking tone to her voice that Dottore didn’t quite like, “do you plan on getting rid of yours because of his failure to get you the funding you wanted? … I overheard your conversation with the Jester the other day, shame to hear about how poorly all of your projects are going.”

Beneath his mask, Dottore’s eyes hardened, turning his head to the side to look at Arlecchino again. He wasn’t sure what he was more annoyed by: the fact that she had listened in on his conversation with Pierro and he hadn’t even noticed or the fact that she was making a dig at his research.

“Not quite as poorly as the decline of the House of the Hearth. How many of your orphans have gone missing in the past few years again?” Dottore countered lowly, watching as Arlecchino’s eyes flashed with fury for just a moment, needling right through her cold mask.

It wasn’t even like his research was going poorly. It was just the typical pattern of adjusting to failures to find the right set of combinations to perfect the formula. Pierro was just impatient because he did not want to send three of the Eleven out to their missions with delusions that were still sapping their vitality. He had made enough progress so that they were no longer life-threatening with significant use, and as far as he was aware, the Balladeer was going to bring the old, faulty delusions down to Inazuma once Arlecchino’s agents wove their web through the Commissions.

Dottore didn’t even understand why this was all necessary, frowning again as he looked out at the aristocrats. Pantalone had already torn the Triglav apart at its seams and the aristocrats were floundering with no shield to protect them from the Fatui. There was not much consolidation of power left to do in Snezhnaya. If anything, this was just excessive—making sure they knew just how strong the Fatui was so that they didn’t get any bright ideas when they began to focus on obtaining the Gnoses.

“I have the House of the Hearth under control,” Arlecchino said, voice icy. “Can you say the same about your segments?”

Dottore smiled thinly, “Yes.”

Especially now that he had finally made contact with her. If he had known that the barest conversation with her would lead to even the Theta segment doing as he asked with little pushback, maybe he would have reached out sooner.

Maybe.

An odd feeling settled in his chest as his thoughts fell to her again. He didn’t like thinking about her for too long but he hadn’t heard anything from her since that night Rho lost her. He knew she wasn’t dead, the thread still hung from his finger and the mark between his shoulder blades was still a bright purple. He wondered if she was just ignoring him or if there was something else going on. He had tried to look into it but hadn’t been able to find any previous examples of something interfering with a bond… which led him to believe that she was ignoring him, maybe as payback for all of the years he went ignoring her.

Either way, he didn’t like it.

Arlecchino abruptly stepped forward next to him, eyes narrowed. Dottore followed her gaze, eyes falling on the livid expression that Sandrone wore as she spoke to Capitano, standing near the piano Columbina was playing at, motioning in the direction of the double doors of the ballroom. Dottore tried to figure out what had her so angry but nothing stood out--Scaramouche was nowhere to be found and usually he was the one to set her in a foul mood by insulting her automatons, otherwise it wasn’t often that her temper was set off because she simply did not care for anything else.

Arlecchino immediately set off in their direction and Dottore, curiosity piqued and hoping to make the night pass faster but entertaining himself with whatever had Sandrone set off, followed after, watching in amusement as their subordinates and the few aristocrats who had crossed the floor to intermingle scattered at their approach.

Capitano raised his head once he caught sight of the two of them, motioning them over. Sandrone pressed her lips together, staying silent until they were close enough to hear what they were talking about. Columbina’s fingers still flew across the keys of the piano, focused on the sonata, but Dottore knew she was listening too: there was a soft smile gracing her face, one that screamed amusement and not the mere enjoyment that came with playing the instrument. Dottore thought that if Columbina was amused by something, then it might spell trouble for all of them, the eerie comment she made about his soulmate a few months back suddenly ringing through his head.

I would like to meet her when she gets here.

Dottore felt unsettled, raising his head to look out across the ballroom floor to look for something but he didn’t even know what he was looking for. All it took was Sandrone opening her mouth once, and the entire world around him froze and shattered.

“One of the aristocrats brought one of the Hydro Archon’s dogs to our event as his date,” she spat out. “This needs to be handled now.”

There were eyes on you.

You didn’t dare to turn to look so you could figure out who was watching you, the last thing you wanted to do was bring more attention to yourself but you couldn’t smother the growing anxiety. You kept your back to them, feigning interest in whatever conversation Artem was having with one of his cousins so that they didn’t know you were aware of their scrutiny even though every inch of you itched to look behind you.

The ballroom was packed to the brim, you thought that every aristocrat in Snezhnaya must be attending this event. It almost reminded you of the balls back home in Fontaine City. The paintings lining the walls were stunning and the ornaments glittered prettily beneath the dim lighting. No one had made their way to the smooth hardwood floor to dance yet despite the quintet of musicians playing in the corner of the room, a beautiful symphony that was not quite harmonious with the eerie piano being played somewhere behind you.

If you weren’t so nervous, you might be able to appreciate the beauty of it… but Fatui lined the room--agents and mages and captains, they were unarmed as far as you could tell but you had a feeling that could change in a moment’s notice.

You felt trapped, like a cornered animal.

There was no way for you to slip away, not when you were being watched and not when the Fatui seemed to be guarding each and every exit. Everything was crumbling around you and you had only been there for a half hour. You tried to calm yourself down, force yourself to think and figure out a plan but every time you tried to do that, you were interrupted by some Snezhnayan noble who wanted to greet Artem.

What did you expect? You spat at yourself angrily. For the Fatui to leave holes in their defenses right at their heart? For you to just walk right in and be given the information you wanted by your stepfather’s superior?

You would leave empty-handed at this rate--the one opportunity handed to you on a silver platter slipping away like water between your fingers. You had to figure out what to do now because there was nothing you could do if you left the palace without the evidence you needed. Zapolyarny Palace was impenetrable, everyone you had come across had made that clear, you would not get another chance like this. This was your easy way into the palace but what could you do? Even if you managed to slip past the guards into the hall, making an excuse to use the bathroom or freshen up, it didn’t change the fact that somehow, you had already drawn attention to yourself.

How? What had it been?

You had not made any sort of scene. You were not overdressed or underdressed, nor did your colors stand out. There were people dressed in bright red gowns, different shades of purple and blue and green, blacks and whites. Artem was not from a contentious family so there was no reason for him to have drawn attention.

What had done it? Was Artem unaware of some conflict between his family and the Fatui? Or was it something else…

Did someone know who you were?

You felt a bit sick at the thought, smile faltering as your grip on Artem’s forearm tightened. You noticed him cast a brief, worried glance down at you but you were too preoccupied to reassure him that you were okay.

Did someone know who you were?

The question echoed through your head over and over again and you realized, slowly, that it was very, very possible and it was something that you had not even considered could be an issue. Your stepfather shouldn’t know where you were going, you hadn’t even confirmed to your mother that you were leaving for Snezhnaya--you had insisted it was Mondstadt--but if he had taken a picture of you and sent it to his superior in Snezhnaya as intel he was passing along about your family and they recognized you when you walked through those doors with Artem…

Suddenly, the urge to turn around and pinpoint who was watching you skyrocketed because if it were true, then that was how you were going to know which Harbinger was supervising your stepfather’s mission--the first step in finding the evidence.

You let out a quiet breath, about to turn your head to the side just a bit to see if you could catch a glimpse of whoever was staring at you but before you could, a hand brushed your forearm. You masked the irritation you felt as you turned your attention back to Sonia, Artem’s cousin’s wife. She smiled at you, brushing her dark hair over her shoulder as she asked:

“So how did you and Artem meet?”

You smiled, leaning into the man and looking up at him, hoping that the gesture came across more adoring than the brief spike of panic you felt. The two of you had intended on going for a simple story: you had met while on the Snezhnaya-Fontaine border and instantly fell for one another, love at first sight, a classic romance… but now you weren’t sure if admitting that you were from Fontaine was the best course of action. Artem was confused, you could see the glimmer in his eyes as he smiled down at you, and you didn’t know what to do.

The split second that had passed since Sonia’s question felt like eternity and finally you responded with a soft laugh, “We met on the border between Snezhnaya and Fontaine. I had gone a bit north to find a nice present for my siblings, their birthday is coming up. I ran into him while shopping and he helped me find the perfect gift. I thought all of those romance books were exaggerating when they talked about love at first sight but I became a victim of it just like that.”

You were only half listening as Sonia cooed and leaned into Artem’s cousin, talking about how the two of them met at a seaside village in western Snezhnaya. You decided that going with the original story was for the best. If, by chance, the Harbingers did happen to know that you were a noble from Fontaine already then it would only draw more suspicion if it got around to them that you were claiming to be a Snezhnayan commoner or even from another foreign nation.

So many ifs. You hated uncertainty.

Lost in thoughts, you were only drawn back to reality as your forearm stung--the telltale sign that your soulmate was reaching out, again. Your lips pressed together in annoyance.

He had been persistent the past two weeks. Every day, he would ask where you were and what had happened but even if you wanted to, there was no way of telling him where you were--he should know that--but the thing was, you didn’t want to. You thought that he had no right suddenly caring about where you were and if you were okay and you were mad at yourself for giving in and responding when you were hurt. He went twenty years ignoring you when you tried over and over and over again just to get to know him, the person that Celestia had tied you with, and he constantly disregarded and even rebuffed you.

You had never heard of someone being rejected by their soulmate until yours had rejected you. It was humiliating, even if only the two of you were aware of what had been said, but more than that it hurt. You dedicated years to him, your whole life was centered around him from having to hide the fact that you had a soulmate to the years you spent in libraries trying to understand him in hopes that it would somehow make him care about your existence, years that you could have spent with your father.

You looked down as discreetly as you could, reading the scratchy words painted on your forearm:

Where are you?

You barely withheld the roll of your eyes as you turned your gaze back up to Sonia, smiling as she laughed at whatever Artem’s cousin had said.

Artem looked as if he was about to speak up but before he could, there was a sharp rap of metal against glass from the front of the room. Instantly, conversation silenced and all heads turned in the direction of the noise--finally, you could turn to see who was staring at you but it was too late; whoever they were, they had already looked away.

“We are here today to officially announce the occupation of the Eleventh Seat,” a low, male voice announced. Your eyes shifted to him--half of his face was covered by a black mask, white hair long and slicked back--you weren’t sure who he was, you hadn’t been given descriptions of the Harbingers, but you figured he was high ranking if he was making this announcement.

“The Jester,” Artem said under his breath. Your eyes widened just a bit. The Jester, you recognized, the leader. “The rest are…”

All around him, you finished silently, your throat closing up as you caught sight of the daunting figures standing around the stage at the front of the room. You didn’t have to know what they looked like to know who they were, their presence and way they held themselves was evidence enough. An unnerving woman with long black and pink hair leaning on the piano, a man wearing a helmet where the face appeared to be an endless void, a woman with an empty expression, silver hair and a blade strapped to her side and…

“A recruit who has proven himself time and time again: felling our enemies without question when we were faced with the threat of a Natlan tribe on the southern border, protecting our people when the Great Wyvern of the northern caverns awoke from its slumber to terrorize our villages, and defending our integrity when called into question by the former Duke of Costesov…”

The Jester was still talking but your gaze had focused in on a familiar man standing off to the side, a bit aways from the small group at the piano--masked and with wavy blue hair, the Fatui subordinates in the area kept a wide distance from him.

It was him, you realized, a cold feeling settling over you, the man who had attacked the inn you had been staying at.

It was her. His soulmate.

Dottore was barely able to mask the torrent of emotions tearing through him. He had known it even before he reached out to her to confirm it, watching her look down at her forearm as soon as he had asked her where she was, and he didn’t know what to think, or do, for that matter.

Around him, the other Harbingers were still talking amongst each other--Arlecchino making snide comments and Sandrone’s letting loose livid remarks about the sheer audacity the Hydro Archon had to a spy so blatantly to their main base. They were talking about handling her and Dottore knew very well that the only way the Fatui knew how to handle things was by getting rid of them.

Getting rid of her. He couldn’t let that happen--he didn’t know how it would affect him and… Something unfamiliar and uncomfortable tugged hard at his chest as his eyes fell back on the girl in the purple dress, watching as she leaned into a boy from one of the Snezhnayan noble families, listening to Pierro’s speech. This was why he didn’t like thinking about her for too long but now he didn’t really have a choice.

“How are you so sure that she’s a noble from Fontaine?” Dottore asked, cutting off Arlecchino mid-sentence as he looked at Sandrone.

Sandrone’s lip curled up, not even bothering to hide the irritation and disgust as she spared Dottore half a glance. “I’d recognize a member of the five families anywhere,” Sandrone said coldly, nose turned up at him. “I was born into one of them.”

That’s right, Dottore remembered vaguely. Sandrone had come from Fontaine. The Harbingers had long given up their names and old lives, they rarely mentioned their pasts--he wasn’t even sure some of them remembered their pasts, he sent a short look toward Capitano at the thought.

“She’s part of the third family, the one that controls the prisons. You know what her family’s talent is?” Sandrone asked sharply, looking back in the direction of his soulmate. “They learned to utilize their hydro vision in a way that lets them twist up peoples’ insides. They usually use it for interrogation but do you know what else it can be used for?”

The third family. Dottore knew enough about Fontaine’s structure to know what that meant: Fontaine had five aristocratic families that were held above the rest, each one of them controlling one of the five main institutions of the nation. No wonder she had to hide her mark.

“Assassinations,” Capitano finished, voice low.

Dottore scoffed loudly. “Her?” he asked dryly, nodding in the direction of his soulmate, dismissing their deductions instantly. “An assassin? She looks like a newborn deer, not a killer.”

She did, Dottore noted offhandedly, eyes drawing back to her for just a moment. She was trying to hide her anxiety and she was doing a good job at it but every now and then, she slipped up, hands shaking just a bit more than they should, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she looked around. Dottore thought a bit of fondness might’ve been stirring the longer he looked at her so he immediately looked away and quashed it, forcing his attention back to the other Harbingers.

“Appearances can be deceiving, Dottore,” Capitano said quietly.

Not hers, Dottore wanted to spit right back—the girl that spent hours on end trying to talk to him and get to know him, undeterred by his lack of response, was no damn killer but he had no way of explaining that to them without admitting who she was to him and he simply refused to open up that weakness to them.

What should he do? He had to interfere but he didn’t know how to do that without making them question why he was stepping in. Dottore cared for nothing but his research--if this was any other person, Dottore wouldn’t have even bothered to give input into the conversation and he was sure that he was already making them suspicious.

“Whether she’s a threat or not, this has to be handled quickly,” Capitano finally said and Dottore felt cold, mind racing to piece together a plan but nothing was feasible. “We can’t afford to risk anything, not here and not now.”

Dottore’s anxiety began to shift into anger the more he dwelled on it and realized that he was backed into a corner because of her, wondering just how stupid his soulmate was showing up to this event on the arm of some random aristocrat. Livid, his gaze shifted to the side again, watching as she leaned into the man’s arm and smiled up at him.

Betrothed, Dottore suddenly remembered one of the things he had recalled from one of the dreams he had of her life. Is this…

“Who is the man she is with?” he interrupted abruptly, voice tense.

“Artem Melnyk,” a new voice said from behind him, Dottore glanced over his shoulder as Pantalone came to stand next to him. “I take it you all are discussing our unexpected, foreign guest.”

Pantalone looked at Dottore as if he knew exactly who she was--maybe he did, Dottore didn’t know if that was for better or for worse. He felt like a cornered animal, ready to lash out at the first perceived attack.

“He will have to be handled,” Dottore said tightly. “I’ll deal with that.”

Dottore thought he would enjoy having this particular new subject in his labs.

“The more pressing matter is the girl,” Sandrone spat out, her one-track mind stuck on Dottore’s soulmate. “She needs to be taken out.”

Dottore thought this might be it, he was about to lash out, but before he could, Pantalone raised his eyebrows. “A bit rash, no?” he asked, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “How will that make us look? Executing a foreign noble for no good reason besides attending a ball with her lover?”

Lover, Dottore was appalled, turning his head to look at Pantalone. Pantalone, evidently, was incredibly entertained by the situation, smile widening just a bit as Dottore looked at him, making him feel as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What do you suggest we do then, Regrator?” Capitano questioned. He did not sound half as amused as Pantalone did.

“Send someone out there to feel her out,” Pantalone said as if it were obvious. His voice took on a more exasperated tone as he continued, “Snezhnaya is in such a poor diplomatic position already specifically because you all tend to kill first, ask questions later. Have we not been trying to rectify that? In what world is killing her the best course of action?”

Sandrone did not look happy, lips pressed together tight, and Pantalone was looking at Dottore, violet eyes expectant as if he was waiting for Dottore to offer to be the one to go talk to her. Dread began to build in his stomach again, realizing that if he went to go talk to her, it would be the end. All of the time he had spent ensuring they would never meet, all of the years he was working severing the bond, it would all be for naught.

“Fine,” Arlecchino said before Dottore could open his mouth. “I’ll do it.”

Dottore didn’t speak as he turned to look at Arlecchino, barely catching the frustrated look in Pantalone’s eyes. Arlecchino was staring right at him, the red x’s in her eyes boring right into him as if she knew something that she shouldn’t, expression cold and unreadable.

Dottore suddenly felt as if he had made a mistake not speaking up immediately.

Just as Arlecchino moved to make her way to his soulmate, Columbina finally spoke up, long, pale fingers wrapping around Arlecchino’s wrist. “No,” she said. “The Doctor will handle it. You promised to play a song with me.”

Dottore thought he liked that even less than Arlecchino’s immediate offer to speak to her but he wasn’t going to give the Knave any time to argue with Columbina, scoffing as he took the opportunity to turn on his heel and walk in the direction of his soulmate and her date.

Pierro’s speech had ended and the musicians were picking up the volume of their piece--soon, couples would make their way out to the ballroom floor to dance but for now, they parted as he crossed the hardwood floor, giving him a wide berth as he walked directly to her.

What was he going to do?

He wondered if this was her plan all along, if she had somehow figured out who he was and what he was a part of so she could throw herself into a dangerous situation and he’d be forced to act. Not for the first time, Dottore felt like he was being played as a puppet except now he didn’t know if it was Celestia holding the strings or her. He had half a mind to let her deal with the consequences of her own actions, let her face one of the other Harbingers and try to convince them she was no threat, but he couldn’t risk letting anything happen to her because it would affect him.

He would have to make sure she knew who he was to her. The last thing he needed was her making a scene if she realized it mid-conversation, assuming she didn’t know already.

She was oblivious to his approach, back turned to him as she talked with Artem Melnyk, but he was not as oblivious. He caught sight of Dottore over her shoulder, expression shifting into one of fear—something that ordinarily would have had him amused but now, just as for the past half an hour, he could only focus on her.

She turned as she noticed Artem’s change in attitude and Dottore wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he wasn’t expecting the anger that followed the confused expression on her face, eyebrows knit together as she stared at him, a hint of anxiety painted in the rage but just that, only a hint.

No recognition and no familiarity--not a type that signaled that she knew she was meeting her soulmate, at least.

Dottore wondered if that meant she had no idea who he was to her and if that was the case, what the hell was she doing there?

For the first time, Dottore’s eyes traced his soulmate’s face. He couldn’t help but notice that even with the anger, her eyes were still gentle and her expression was still soft. You don’t belong here, he wanted to say, not in this place and not with me, but instead, he only held his right hand out to her and watched, waiting for her to take his hand and finally take notice of the thread that connected the two of them.

She hesitated only for a second as she glanced down at his hand, placing her own in it and Dottore watched the double-take, the way her eyes widened just a bit as she looked down at their connected hands, at the thread connected to his thumb that she could see. His grip tightened just enough to force her attention back to his face before she could make a scene.

There was still anger as she looked up at him again but it was diluted beneath a type of astonished adoration that had never before been directed his way. He knew it was just the shock of finally meeting him and that the anger would return when she remembered the years he went ignoring her but it didn't mitigate the unwelcome feeling rising in his gut. He wanted to look away, uncomfortable under the affectionate gaze and uncomfortable even just touching her because he knew deep down that it felt right and he refused to give into this bond.

He refused to play Celestia’s game.

He leaned down to brush his lips against her knuckles, “Dance with me?” he murmured, loud enough just for her to hear.

He figured that once people began to flood the dance floor, he would be able to speak with her without as many unwanted ears able to listen in.

“You’re-” she began, breathless and stunned--distastefully, he noticed that Artem was still holding her arm, as if to protect her from him. The thought itself would have amused him in any other circumstance but now it only irritated him even more.

Dottore cut her off, giving her a thin smile: “The Doctor, Second of the Fatui Harbingers.”

REBLOGS APPRECIATED

#dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut

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bouncybongfairy · 1 month

Text

Love Game

Simon (Ghost) Riley x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Ghost, Keegan and yourself go on an undercover mission. Playing into your role too well makes Ghost jealous. You notice this and tease him the entire ride home. He fucks your shit up at the barracks.

Word Count: 1.0k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Dom & Jealous Ghost, Rough Smut, Creampie

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Ghost, Keegan, and yourself were on the way to an undercover mission. The plan was to seduce one of the generals with fake naivety in order to capture and integrate him; under any means necessary. You didn’t recognize yourself once you looked in the mirror. For a couple years, you completely dedicated yourself to the task force, which wasn’t exactly the environment for club dresses and with match pumps. Your mom would be extremely happy to see you right now, looking like a bimbo barbie. As foreign as it felt, you’d be lying if you didn’t like the new look. You’d never admit it but, you were extremely excited to get the chance to have a little fun. Yes it was a serious mission but all you had to do is lure him to the boys.

“You ready?” Keegan said, parking the car in a secluded area that was scouted earlier in the week. Ghost was getting his snipper ready just in case.

“Yeah,” you said, putting the wireless earpiece in your ear and getting out of the car.

A cloud of smoke hit your face as you opened the door, the music was blaring and drunk patrons were all over the place. Walking over to the bar and ordering a drink, waiting until you spotted the target. You immediately recognized him from the debriefing, he did most of the work, approaching you and striking up conversation. Asking you what brings you to the area and what type of drinks you like. You were flirting with him, asking him about himself. It humoured you how he was so full of himself, going on and on about his ranks and time served. At first, knowing both Keegan and Ghost could hear your conversations made you nervous but the drunker you got the less you cared.

“So what are ya doing later tonight?” you asked him, after taking your third shot.

“Are you an option?” he asks, making you giggle not sure what to say, “Hmm?” he hummed into your ear, trying to get an answer out of you.

“Maybe if you work hard enough you’ll earn my ass by the end of the night,” you flirt back, pulling him back onto the dance floor.

“Holy fuck that’s…” Keegan started but then looked over at Ghost who looked pissed so he changed his course of thought,“...unprofessional. It’s- I'm gonna shut up,” he said.

He was fuming, the two of you weren’t in an official relationship; it was more of a situationship. One time he completed a mission a day before originally anticipated. After a long week, he was looking forward to collapsing in bed but you were laying in it. Not only that but you are holding one of his masks he left behind. Keeping it pressed against your face while you sleep. He practically melted at the sight and every time he thought about it his stomach flipped.

He set his duffle down and moved you over, laying down next to you. When he attempted to pull the mask out of your hands, it startled you awake. Yanking it out of his grip before realizing who it was. Letting go of the extra mask, and snuggling your face into his neck. Making sure your nose was touching the cotton, taking in deep breaths and going back to sleep. The two of you never talked about it, just ignored each other for a couple days. Now that he was hearing you drunkenly flirt with men, he wished he’d taken things farther that night. He was grinding his teeth together while listening to the audio.

You were sealing the deal, becoming too drunk to lead this guy on any further. Walking out of the bar, the general was holding you by the waist. Both of you swayed a bit, Ghost and Keegan immediately hopped out of the car and folded his shit. Putting a pillowcase over his head after restraining him and putting him in the trunk. Giggling as you watched Ghost be really rough with him, obviously jealous of the interaction you had. He walked up to you, a small amount of blood sprayed onto his mask and him breathing hard.

“Simmy!” you jumped into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist, “Did you miss me?” you purred, biting onto the side of his mask and playfully tugging on it. He pulled you off him and helped you into the car where the real fun started.

You couldn’t keep your hands off Ghost. After sharing a room with him for months, you couldn’t ignore how sexy he is. Not even caring if Keegan was there to watch and trust; he was. Getting onto the floorboard in front of Ghost, starting to kiss his knees. He was trying his best to swat you away but he was losing the mental game. Looking up at him while on your knees was making you grow wet. He kept glancing down at you but it was obvious he was trying not to.

“Please if you’re not gonna touch me at least have your eyes on me,” you beg, pressing a kiss against his dick print. Taking him off guard, he uses both hands to grab a fist full of your hair. Moving your lips off his already leaking member and jerking his hips back. Rolling your eyes back, moaning and letting drool fall off your tongue as he ripped your head back. Ghost looks over at Keegan, who’s wide eyed and struggling to keep focus.

“Are you even watching the road?” he asked, trying to contain you as best he could.

“I- um, there’s- didn’t- fuck, what was the question?” he asks.

“ETA?” he grumbled, changing the subject.

“30 minutes,” he said.

Boy were those 30 minutes a sight to see. Doing anything you could to work him up. Everything from licking his boot while begging from him to rubbing your soaked cunt against his knees. He was using his hand to cover the erection straining against his boxers. You were kissing his hand, trying to coax him into moving it. He turned up the music to drown you out a bit. You rolled your eyes and mouthed the words ‘pussy bitch’ to him. This got his attention, the look in his eyes became dark and intolerant. Which made you finally settle down, he wasn’t looking away from you. Keeping his eyes locked on you, which was really intimidating. Making you avert your gaze.

“I’m gonna go take a cold shower,” Keegan said, parking the car taking the new prisoner to Price.

Ghost got out of the car, carrying you to his room. He threw you onto the bed, not bothering to take any of his gear off. Pulling out a knife and starting to cut the dress off you. Taking one of the torn pieces and wrapping it around your mouth. Tying it tight, not caring if some of your hair was tangled into the knot. It was so tight, your tongue was being forced to the back of your mouth. Making it impossible to swallow your saliva, it drips down your chest. He picks you up off the bed and sets you on your knees. Back against the wall and hands now resting at his boots. Slowly unzipping his fly, pulling his cock out. The fact that he was in full combat gear while you were naked and vulnerable was only making things hotter. He squats down, your eyes locked on his red and leaking tip. Noticing this, he grabs your chin and forces your eyes up.

“You had so much to say in the car. Where is that pretty little voice of yours?” he asked, rubbing the back of his index finger up and down your throat. Feeling his calloused hand on our body made you moan, leaning your body into his hand. Not being able to handle it anymore, you reach out and grab his cock. He lets you stroke him a couple times before slapping the fuck out of your chest, enjoying watching you bounce.

“I didn’t hear you ask, not even a please,” he scoffed, slapping the other. You start rambling and begging incoherently, spit covering you even more than you already were.

“That’s better,” he stood you up, pressing the front of your body against the wall, “After putting up with you all night I definitely earned this ass,” he chuckled.

Lining himself up with your entrance and pushing himself inside you. Letting his forehead fall against the top of your head, overwhelmed from being engulfed in your tight heat. Spreading your legs with his feet and holding onto the back of your elbows. Keeping you pressed tightly between his body and the wall. The feeling of sexual tension finally coming to a head, you’d dreamed about this for months. Imagining how it would feel to be owned by him and it was better than you ever dreamed. He was huge, the head of his cock pounding at your cervix. He was praising you for taking him so well, snapping his hips against your ass at an animalistic rate. Your legs were shaking, a mix of wetness and squirt were running down your thighs.

“Fuck you’re such a good little bitch, so fucking good. Fuck! Are you tightening around my cock because you don’t wanna let me go? Hmmm?” he asks, erratically thrusting his hips as you cum around him. Your walls spasming and milking his cock as he rode out his orgasm.

You passed out right after, your legs too shaky and weak to hold your weight up. He cleans you up, looking over at the clock and seeing that the meeting to run down last night's mission was in 10 minutes. He gets changed into fresh clothes, letting you sleep with the mask he was wearing last night. He could tell by the look on everyone's faces that Keegan filled them in on what transpired last night.

“Where’s y/n?” Price asked.

“She sustained some injuries from last night's mission, she’ll be out for the day,” he said, ignoring the other guys' snickers while thinking about how pussywhipped he’s becoming.

#simon ghost riley #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod imagine #call of duty smut #ghost smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut

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raposarealm · 11 months

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I noticed this a minute ago, but it looks like if you e scored a certain rank in Matching, it shows up on your supports like your Ranked score would. I couldn't find any examples of other ranks below S with cursory glancing, so lemme know if you've seen that happen.

Also sorry Muffin

#i don't follow many players outside refugees so i don't tend to see the super-whale high ranks as much #mostly players getting c or b in ranked #obviously i'm doing so much worse in Matching than in Ranked #magia record #mirrors ranked matching #mirrors ranked matching round 1

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strangeshoepatrolbandit-alt · 2 months

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Saudade.

Warnings: Being a hostage, waking up after being unconscious, swimming(in a lake), mentions of asphyxiation, mentions of mechanical limbs, mentions of being a killer.

Body Description: Hair that is usually pinned and tied back(past tense).

Part three.

Series Masterlist.

~☆~

He speaks to you when you sleep. He's been doing it since he died

It's not that he visits you from the afterlife, no, he visits you in memories that feel a little too real.

This time, you're eighteen years old, a small braid still behind your ear. You're two Padawans, swimming in a Naboo lake, laughing as he holds your waist, lifting you and throwing you further into the water.

You were clad in garments that Queen Padmé Amidala had graciously given the both of you, seeing as neither of you had swimming attire appropriate for just going out and having fun.

His hair was chopped short, and he had a matching braid behind his right ear. He had not lost his arm to Count Dooku, nor did he have his iconic scar that went from his right eyebrow down to his cheekbone.

The memory isn't tainted by the other memories you'd have later in life, you're oblivious in this dream. It's just you re-living your time as a Padawan.

Your robes and lightsabers are up on the land, under a tree. Anakin swims the small distance over to where he threw you, a big grin deepening his smile lines. Your own smile mirrored his own. The two of you were happy, not having to bend to the Jedi rules while you're out swimming in some clear water. A break.

Peace.

Tranquility.

You're jolted awake by a beeping sound, so your eyes snap open. You're back in your private chambers, no longer out on the rocky terrain of Mustafar like you last remember. Did Vader take you back himself? Did he get a stormtrooper or a Droid to retrieve you?

You sit up and pat your body, seeing if anything has been done to it. Everything is normal. You're even still in the clothes you dressed yourself in.

The beeping sound coming from your door finally stopped, only for the sound of compressed air to momentarily replace it. A stormtrooper takes a step in. You think its the same one who has been delivering your food, but it's hard to tell, considering the fact that they all look the same.

"Lord Vader has requested that you change your attire and join him in the dining room." The Stormtrooper stands straight, permanently at attention.

"Tell Lord Vader that I have no interest in his... request." That was no request from him. It was a demand.

The Stormtrooper stands still, staring. For a second, you think he is going to drag you out of the room, but he just leaves. The metal door closes behind him, locking automatically, making you sigh and flop back on your bed.

You turn your head to the side, staring at the gray sheets. Your hand reaches up, and you rub the fabric between two of your fingers. Your sheets back at the Jedi Temple were almost the exact same shade of gray. The sheets you grew up sleeping with curled up in a ball on most nights after an intense training session with your old Master.

A sense of loss fills you...

You've lost everything.

Your home, your rank, your friends, your freedom... You've lost it all.

You don't feel that for long, because a feeling of dread replaces it. He's close. You can feel the dark presence of him. He is angry. He is frustrated.

Your answer was a mistake. You should have just done what you were told.

Mechanical doors open, and the air lock breaks yet again. In all of his terrifying 6'8 glory, Darth Vader stands.

In this moment, you realize that the lenses on his helmet are red, not black like the rest of his attire. It's silly, really... noticing something so small when you could possibly die in this moment.

Would he do the signature move you hear stories of? Use the force to wrap an invisible hand around your throat, crushing your trachea, cutting off the part that makes oxygen go to your lungs, leaving you dead by asphyxiation?

"You were told to join me!" His modulated voice raises, making you blink a few times as you stare up at him with wide eyes. This is it. "Why can't you do what you are told?"

The spit that had collected under your tongue was now going down your throat thickly, making you feel like you swallowed a stone. "I do not obey your kind." You fix your posture in a second, speaking in a strong voice to try and hide whatever you feel.

Darth Vader stares back at you for a second, only the sounds of his modulated breath escaping him.

"My kind?" He speaks right before a dark and deep chuckle can be heard. "A Sith? An Emperor? The most powerful being in the galaxy? A killer? Do explain, Y/N."

You ball up your fists as you swallow again. "A tyrant. A Sith. A killer without cause. Call it what you will."

His steps were loud against the metal floor as he approached you, standing right in front of you. His large hand grabs your face with slight force, but not roughly. You've heard whispers about how he is just a machine. That his hands are just made of wires, screws, and the metal that holds it together. You don't know if you believe that because whatever he's holding you with is not as hard as metal. You can feel it under his leather gloves.

"We are one of the same." He tells you. "The sooner you see that, the sooner I can get what I want."

"We are not the same!" You yell stupidly. Who would yell at the most powerful Sith that is known for killing without remorse?

He's silent again, just staring down at you.

"Wear the wine colored dress. I'll be waiting."

~☆~

Taglist: @songbirdcannabe @sonnensplitter @divxnee @anakinslvt @sweetcheesecakesblog @artemissunn @valsarchives @bunnylovesani @luvvfromme @sterredem @mariamyousef702 @icantkickthefangirladdiction @bunnylovesani

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x fem!reader #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x reader #anakin x you #darth vader x reader #darth vader x y/n #darth vader x female reader #darth vader x you #darth vader #star wars #x reader

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chatterbox-73 · 10 months

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.Sugar Daddy.

.Birthday bunny.

Izuku Midoriya x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story, I’ll more characters x reader one shots in the future and if you want to see a character please let me know.

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

A/N: happy birthday Izuku🎉 also this one shot isn’t edited.

Summary/inspiration/prompt: what would Japan’s number one hero spend his birthday on…? Of course, he’d spend it with the top hostess in Japan with all his friends.

Word count: 3k

CW: NSFW and adult content, aged up characters, mention of contraceptive, illegal prostitution, anal play, pet name (bunny), bunny ears and tail, humiliation, voyeurism, oral (m&f!receiving), breast play, sex toy/butt plug, Bi Midoriya and drinking alcohol.

You stood in a line before a table of Japan’s top heroes, the men laughing and drank, cheering for their friend; who you had been informed was celebrating his birthday. The man in question was your nations number 1 hero and had defended the evil villain ‘All for one’ and his protégée ‘Tomura Shigaraki’, his name ‘Deku’.

“I have all the girls you requested, please take your pick…” the owner of the company said with a smile, your eyes shifting to either side of you, all the girls in the line shared no similarities; some were tall while others were short, some were plump and fuller while others were lean and bony, some had large breasts and bottoms while others were less well endowed, however you quickly realised what you and the other women had in common, you were the high ranking hostesses who were also unofficial prostitutes.

You did your best at hiding your amusement, it was ironic all these heroes, noble and just, and oh so willing to use illegal prostitutes. “Mr. Deku, do any of the girls catch your attention?” Asked the own and the green haired hero nodded, before pointing to you, “that one… she’ll do” Deku spoke smoothly, you boss nodded with a smile, “have her take the present we brought with us” spoke a blonde sitting next to Deku, he grinned and nudged his friend.

You stepped into the room just across from the room with all the heroes, now they all sat with the other women you’d been lined up with. You walked over to the table were a package sat, you opened the box and examined the contents, there was a navy green lingerie set lined with black lace, matching stockings, black red bottom heels… you examined the bra and measured it too your chest, a surprising fit. You looked at the underwear, if you could call them that, it was more like a small triangle held together by strings and a few dainty chains. However looking back in the box something mint green and fluffy caught your attention, grabbing it out, it was a pair of bunny ears. You then looked back in the box in search of the tail and to your shock found it.

“It’d probably be too late to back out” you sighed as to grabbed the small package and opened it, pulling out a rather large plug with a mint green bunny tail on the end of it, you had admittedly done many weird things and probably worse then this, however you’d never felt so nervous.

You stiffened your lip and began to get cleaned up and dressed, you’d eventually got to the point where you’d have to put in the plug, you twisted the thing in your hand and noted it was bigger then most of the men you’d entertained but you pervaded, squeezed a large amount of lubricant on it before you lifted your leg into a chair and began to push it in, there was a brief discomfort before your body relaxed and the metal of the plug warmed. You hummed as the fluff of the tail met your skin and the plug filled you.

Standing before the mirror you twisted and turned getting a good look at yourself, you ran your fingers over the tops of your breasts and down your front; you looked good, you most certainly wouldn’t deny that, you turned before wiggling your butt and the tail jingled, you chuckled before being pulled from your thoughts as there was a knock at the door, “almost done, our patrons are growing tired of waiting” called your boss through the door, “oh yes, I’m ready” you called back and the man entered the room, he stared at you for a moment before grinning and passing you a robe.

“You look wonderful” he helped you with your robe before straightening your bunny ears, “wonderful enough for you to take me out?” You smirked and your boss shook his head, “I’m more of a cat person” he replied nonchalantly and untucked your hair from the robe. Your boss guided you back to the room with all the heroes, he had a cake that he passed to you and explained you were going to disrobe, sing ‘happy birthday’ and then take Deku into the connected room were you’d do as he asked. Your boss opened the door and stepped in, the room was filled with laughter and singing, “oi that girl ready yet?” Asked what sounded like the blonde from earlier, “yes she’s ready” he signalled for you to enter.

Stepping into the room you noticed the other hostess had stripped down to their underwear or less, some had simply unzipped their dresses and slipped the top of the dress down to their hips, before taking off their bra, while other completely removed their dresses, and one even sat on your clients lap naked, you walked around the table and placed the cake down in front on Deku and smiled, “you there, get the lights” you faked a smile and the girl got up and moved, as you began to light the candles on the cake, before looking to the hero “Mr number one, may I ask your help with my robe” you grabbed his hand and brought it to the tie, he pulled it and watched as the robe fell down your body and pool at your feet, one of your other coworkers quickly grabbed the robe and took it over too the manager and stood beside him and the other coworker you had told to get the lights.

The room dimmed and you began to sing, you pulled Deku’s hand around you and rested one of your own on his shoulder, once you finished singing you lent down and spoke, “blow out your candles Mr Deku and make a wish… try to get all of them or you’ll get a punishment” before you whispered, “but even if you don’t get all your candles in one go, I’ll still grant all your wishes” you chuckle and licked his ears before standing up, the man got all but one candle, everyone cheered as the lights came back on. You lent over again and blow out the last candle before pulling them out of the cake, you wiggles your butt as you did so, the small jingle suddenly sounded so loud and it drew the attention of several of the man, some looked surprised and shocked not fully believing any of the hostess would have worn it, the blonde who you believed was behind organising this event sat on the other side of you had handed Deku a small metallic thing and gave your butt a good squeeze before focusing back on the topless woman on his lap, bringing his hands back to her very large breasts.

You scooped some icing on your finger and stood up straight, before wiping it on Deku’s lips and cheek, “I told you, I’d have to punish you if you left any candles lit” you giggled and licked your finger clean, the man smiled and looked at you before clicking something in his hand, before you knew it your knees slightly buckled and you grabbed tightly onto his shoulder and as strong vibrations radiated through your rectum, the bell jingled violently signalling to the others at the table the cause for your sudden reaction. “What’s the matter bunny?” Deku spoke his first words since choosing you, you shook your head and straightened up, “uhh… nothing… Mmm just fine” you moaned with a smile and grabbed both of his hands, “would you like to go now?” You asked however the man shook his head, “I’d like to have some cake first” he hummed and you looked over to your boss who nodded before quickly leaving the room.

You served the hero a slice of cake, however before he began eating he instructed you to wipe off his face, however this was no easy task as he had turned the vibrations on and off vigorously, you were then told to stand and wait for him, which again would have been easy enough however Deku had decided to turn the vibrations up so high the tail looked as though it began to wiggle, you moaned loudly as you felt the vibrations in your cunt as well as deep in your tight rectum, your legs shook but you managed to stay standing.

Some of the man laughing while others palmed themselves as you whine and whimpered, however your client remanded stoned face and after glancing at his crotch… flaccid. The blonde next to you however was both laughing at you and had already moved the woman previously on his lap to under the table where she was serving him… and yet your client remained unbothered by it all and simply ate his cake, “would you like cream, Mr Deku?” You asked and picked up the bowl with whipped cream, the man nodded and sat back watching you, however instead of dolloping cream onto the cake, you dolloped it onto your breasts, “oopsie, it seems I don’t have much control over my hands, can you help me?” You asked and the man replied by pushing his chair out and grabbing your waist in a firm grip, his eyes met your and instantly of the response your thought you’d get… something like a small blush and a laugh; you got something completely different. Deku gave to a narrowed eye looked that said ‘really?’, he looked at you like you were some annoying idiot, however he leant down and began to lick from your bellybutton where the cream dripped down to, before licking up slowly, the room filled with cheers and you felt a shiver as you watched his harsh and narrow eyes, he then licked over the tops of your breasts before he then pulled the straps of your bra off the shoulders, exposing your breasts to everyone, Deku’s large hot tongue gliding over one of your breast and you bite your cherry red lips before he licked over your other breast and took the entire boob into his mouth, you moaned and your eyes rolled back as he began suckling on your nipple, the room roar with cheers and you looked back at the man as he sucked and flicked his tongue over your nipple, while his hands held you tightly in place, his eyes closed and you found yourself glanced over to the remote for the butt plug, without a second thought you reached for it, however Deku caught your wrist and pulled it behind your back, all while still he suckled your nipple with his eyes closed, you gasped as he bit your nipple and grabbed the remote, flicking the switch up all the way.

Your body shook and legs buckled completely however you were being held up by Deku, you squealed and cried out loudly as tears formed in your eyes and liquid dripped down your shaking legs, your face and shoulders were bright red from the embarrassment… you were humiliated, having all these men laughing at you and the man who your supposed to be entertaining, is nowhere near interested in you, it was clear he’d rather eat cake and make a fool of you than have sex or even talk with you. Suddenly Deku stood, holding you up with one arm before leaving the table and walking over to the door that led to the private room, once entering and closing the door the room was completely silent, blocking out all the sound from the outside.

With a click the door was locked and the man took you over to the set of chairs and sat you in one before sitting in the other, he turned off the vibrator and placed the remote on the small table that was set between the chairs, Deku then grabbed the two wine glasses and the bottle of wine before popping it and filling the glasses, he passed you a glass and took his own, swirled the wine around the glass before smelling it, you watched as he drunk the wine. “Thank you for the drink Mr Deku” you weakly smiled, “it’s Midoriya…” he spoke and you nodded, “right, of course… thank you Mr Midoriya…” you straightened up as best you can, “I apologise if I’m not what you wanted… but just tell me and I can help in anyway you need me too” you bowed and the man chuckled, “that’s very sweet bunny, but you see I didn’t expect this was how I’d be spending my birthday…” he took another sip and continued on, “I honestly thought I’d be spending the night watching movies with my husband” he sighed and you gasped, “oh I’m so sorry, I can get one of the male hosts or I can just get dressed and we’ll only talk” you covered your chest with your arm however Midoriya only throw his head back in laughter, “oh no it’s fine, my husband and I are both very open, he’s blonde out there currently having his dick sucked…” he place his glass on the table “and we swing both ways… Its common for us to bring a man or woman into bed with us as we both don’t always like bottoming” he said and you sigh, “so what can I do for you?” You asked and he signalled for you to get in front of him, moving to stand between his legs he pulled you to kneel, “suck me” he demanded and you began to undo his pants.

You pulled out his large yet flaccid cock and softly kitten licked it, you wondered if he had been enjoying himself or if he was just lying to save your feelings, you began to lightly suckle on his tip and before long his cock stood tall and proud; it was huge, you weren’t surprised that his husband didn’t want to bottom every often. You pumped him and sucked and licked his balls, Midoriya hummed and patted your head, “sweet little bunny…” he sighed and undid his tie and the buttons on his shirt, you pulled his tip back into your mouth and tried to take him deep, gagging as you got less then half way, “too much for the little bunny, stand for me” he instructed and you did so without hesitation. Midoriya moved to take off your bar and slide down your pantie slipping them in his pocket, “turn and bend over” he sat back and moved, you felt his thumb spread your folds before the lightest amount of vibration came from the plug, you moaned placed your hands on your knees. Midoriya chuckled “tell me how often do men fuck you?” He questioned “I have sex about once or twist a day” you answered honestly, “I see and how much money does that bring in?” Midoriya asked as he reached for the plug and began to slowly pump it in and out, “just enough for me to live comfortably” you continued to answer honestly, the man humming and pulled the plug out completely and placed it on the table, “do you have experience with service to men at the same time?” He stood and pulled you to turn, you looked up at him and nodded, “yes Mr Midoriya, I do” you felt the man pulling you towards the bed, “very good… finally contraception… you use condoms but would you be willing to use the pill or an IUD?” He asked as he guided you to lie down, he slipped on a condom and pumped himself a few times, you watched him confuse but answered anyways, “I’m alright on the pill, condoms are so I don’t get sick” you smiled awkwardly and the man chuckled, “I see, thank you for answering honestly with me” he said as he moved your ankles to his shoulders.

Midoriya slipped inside you ever so slowly and gave you no time to adjust as he took long strong thrust, he held your waist and groaned his he intensely watched his cock slip in and out of you, he eyes flickered to your breasts which bounced with each thrust, “your so fucking beautiful, bunny” he hummed and sped up his pace. You however were in heaven, it had been so long since you had been filled this good, Midoriya’s cock pressed ever spot and his words had an unimaginable effect on you, after being humiliated by him, to have him call you beautiful had you clenched him so tight he thought his cock would snap right off. Midoriya laughed and placed a hand on your throat, he didn’t place any weight on it or tighten his hand, he simply just left it the and fucked you faster, “I’m gonna fucking cum… get up bunny” he demanded and pulled out of you before pulling the condom off, you whined and knelt on the bed, suddenly his hand grabbed a fist full of hair and pumping his cock, you leaned forward and suckled on his tip again before feeling his hot load seep onto your tongue, he throw his head back and moaned before pushing off him and onto your back.

Shock filled you as he climbed onto the bed and grabbed your legs pulling you towards him, and his without warning his face disappeared in between your legs, he groaned as he sucked and licked your folders. “It’s been awhile since I can ate a cunt so bear with me” Midoriya chuckled and continued to devour your cunt, that’s how you spent the next hour or so, his tongue and fingers take turned being inside you or playing with your clit.

You were shaken awake by your boss, “come on, up you get” he sighed as he helped you sit up and pass you a thick envelope, confused you opened it and noticed it was full of cash and a letter, pulling out the letter and reading it; you were thanked for your excellent service and… offered a job to work fill time for Midoriya and his husband.

You hadn’t the slightest idea in what they saw in you but you were certain the pay would be better than anything you were currently receiving. You’d swallow any pride to simply have to fuck two very attractive men and get a large wad of cash after every service, it was an opportunity of the lifetime, you really didn’t need to think it over at all.