#the highly requested sequel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chvoswxtch · 3 months

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let's play

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid

summary: sharing is caring, afterall.

warnings: once again, every single one of them. swearing, spencer whimpering, daddy hotch, derek morgan's blinding charming ass smile, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: the highly requested and anticipated sequel to slumber party has arrived. once again, there is no plot, bc none of you came here for that. you don't have to read part one to understand this installment, but it is highly encouraged. please enjoy this lil valentine's treat from me to you. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

Before Hotch or Derek even had a chance to step foot into Spencer’s hotel room, Spencer had kicked it shut behind himself after ushering you inside. The two men exchanged looks of confusion, glancing between each other and the closed door in front of them. Derek held his bag by the handles over his shoulder in one hand, and when he went to twist the knob on the door, it was locked. He raised his fist to lightly knock against the door.

“Hey Reid-”

“Come back in an hour.”

Derek’s ebony brows instantly pinched together, and he tossed Hotch an incredulous look over his shoulder.

“What’d he just say?”

Hotch’s permanent scowl abruptly returned to his sharp features as he stepped forward, raising his fist to pound harshly against the door.

“Reid, open this door, now.”

“In an hour.”

Derek let out a scoff, dropping his bag onto the floor with a loud thud.

“What happened to sharing, pretty boy?”

“We will, in fifty-nine minutes.”

Spencer’s voice was somewhat muffled through the thickness of the door, and it sounded far away, like he was deeper inside the room. Before either of them could say another word, a loud moan suddenly sounded from inside that clearly belonged to you. Hotch clenched his jaw while Derek stepped forward with an expression of pure irritation.

“Reid, either you open this door, or I’m kicking it down so help me-”

Hotch placed his palm against Derek’s chest and gave a slight shake of his head. Without another word, Hotch reached into his pocket and produced a room key, and in one swipe, a click followed by a flashing green light signaled that the door was unlocked. Hotch twisted the knob and pushed the door open, stepping into the room with Derek hot on his heels.

Spencer’s head perked up from between your thighs at the abrupt intrusion, his lips and chin already glistening with your arousal, and a concoction of puzzlement and vexation knit his brows together.

“How-”

Hotch held up his right hand with the key card nestled between his index and middle finger, arching one of his thick brows in a pointed expression.

“You think I don’t have a master key to each of my agent’s rooms for emergency purposes?”

While on his knees in front of the bed with his hands clamped firmly around your soft thighs, Spencer stared at the key in Hotch’s hand as if it had personally wronged him. He hadn’t planned for that. He had planned on having you all to himself for an hour before he had to share.

“Son of a bitch.”

Derek’s mouth instantly parted into an amused tooth bearing grin at Spencer’s outburst of realization, and he chuckled while crossing his arms over his chest, causing his light gray t-shirt to stretch over his firm chest and large biceps.

“Nothing like a pretty girl to slice that genius IQ right in half. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

Raising up on your elbows on the bed, you glanced over at Derek with a faint smirk as you arched one of your brows in a teasing gesture.

“I don’t know what you’re getting cocky about. He’s the one with the eidetic memory of the female anatomy and what I like.”

“Oh it’s like that, huh? Do I need to remind you who in this room has the most practice with female anatomy? Cause I seem to remember you feeling pretty satisfied on the jet earlier.”

Slipping your hand down into the mess of light brown curls on top of Spencer’s head, you gave his hair a gentle tug to guide his mouth back to where you wanted it, a silent command he happily obliged. Feeling the warmth of Spencer’s wet tongue starting to glide slowly over your clit again, you laid back against the mattress once more and closed your eyes while a soft sigh emitted from your parted lips.

“A little refresher course never hurt anyone. Take a seat, boys. Dr. Reid is giving an oral presentation.”

Whatever argument Hotch or Derek had quickly died on their tongues as they became entranced watching Spencer sensually and slowly eat your pussy from his spot on his knees at the edge of the bed. The four of you had spent the past twelve hours since the jet landed making your rounds at the police station, visiting the scene of the crime, and the medical examiner’s office before Hotch finally decided it was time to check into the hotel. All of you were beyond exhausted, but none of you could stop thinking about what was going to happen the second the four of you were finally alone together.

There had been a buzzing energy surrounding the four of you since you stepped off the jet with the promise of more in the back of everyone’s minds.

As much as their hands were itching to touch you, Hotch and Derek couldn’t tear their eyes away from the enticing show taking place in front of them. The way your body writhed gently against the mattress, the rhythm of your hips rolling back and forth against Spencer’s face like a delicate ocean tide, the soft and hedonistic noises of pleasure that rose in volume and pitch as Spencer devoured you like a man on death row savoring his last meal.

“At least we found a way to shut him up.”

Hotch softly grinned at Derek’s quiet quip while reaching up to loosen the knot on his tie completely, slipping it from around his neck.

“Silver lining. Help her get more comfortable, would you?”

Derek grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it carelessly behind himself. As soon as his belt was unbuckled, he kicked off his shoes and pushed his jeans down to his ankles to step out of them, leaving him in a white pair of briefs that were already bulging from his half hard cock.

“Way ahead of you.”

Taking a few steps over towards the large bed, Derek moved to sit on his knees right behind your head and leaned forward to grab the bottom of your dress that was bunched up around your hips. He pulled it upwards to slip it off of you, leaving you completely exposed. The cool temperature in the room quickly had your nipples rising to stiff peaks, and you shivered when Derek’s large and warm hands began to squeeze your breasts firmly. Letting your eyes flutter open, you stared up into Derek’s deep and warm chocolate brown eyes as he flashed you that charming grin that never failed to make you weak in the knees.

“Reid putting his mouth to good use?”

Sinking your top teeth into your bottom lip, you arched your back slightly off the mattress and moaned in response as Spencer trapped your clit between his soft lips and began to suck fervently. In return, you gave his hair a rough tug which had a moan of his own vibrating against your soaked cunt. The vibrations echoed throughout your trembling thighs, and your stomach felt tight with anticipation for what was coming, and what would follow afterwards.

Derek toyed with your sensitive nipples, alternating between flicking his thumbs over them, rolling them between his thumb and index finger, and pinching gently. He leaned over you, teasingly gliding his tongue in a languid circle around your hardened nub before sucking it into his mouth and biting down gently, causing you to tug harder at Spencer’s unruly roots. The combination of the stimulation from Derek and Spencer was almost too much, and it had you barreling towards euphoria quickly.

Opening your eyes, you were immediately drawn to the sight of Hotch sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, watching intently while a haze of lust darkened his eyes to the deepest shade you had ever seen them. He was still fully dressed in his suit, but he held his tie tightly in his right hand, and a jolt of excitement rushed through your nervous system.

“Who’s that for?”

Hotch lifted his gaze from Spencer’s head between your thighs to meet your eyes, and a wicked smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth.

“Now if I told you, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

Oh.

Hotch was in the mood to play.

The more comfortable the four of you got with your little arrangement, the more everyone started to see the real version of one another in the bedroom. Out of the three men, Hotch was by far the most dominant, and enjoyed being in complete control, which wasn’t really a surprise to anyone. But the fetishes that lurked beneath the surface did catch you off guard from time to time.

Derek wasn’t too keen on being tied up, unless you talked him into it on rare occasions, so you and Spencer were usually the object of Hotch’s bondage fantasies. You didn’t realize you would enjoy being completely at someone else’s mercy so much, but with Hotch, you found it incredibly erotic. Everything he did was to maximize your pleasure. He may have liked being in control, but out of the three of them, he definitely took the cake for being a giver.

The second Spencer gently grazed his teeth over your sensitive clit, your orgasm unexpectedly crashed over you without warning, and your body seized up while repetitive cries of pleasure tore through your chest. Gripping the sheets so hard in your fists your knuckles turned stark white, you tried to weakly pull away from Spencer’s delectable assault on your overstimulated clit, but Derek held your hips down firmly so that Spencer could continue to ravenously collect every drop you had to offer.

The line between pleasure and pain was beginning to blur, and relief only came when Hotch grabbed Spencer by his hair and tugged his head backwards before pulling him up to his feet. Spencer’s pupils were completely blown open with lust, and his lips were somewhat swollen as they glistened with the burst of gratification he had wrung from you. He was lightly panting trying to catch his own breath.

“That’s enough.”

“But I-”

“You get to fuck her when I say you can. Understood?”

Spencer’s hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, one of his physical tells that he was aroused and trying to contain himself. He swallowed thickly and nodded his head in silent obedience. The deep and calm tone of Hotch’s voice was laced with a delicate warning, letting all three of you know that there was no room for debate regarding who was in control tonight.

You didn’t call him “Daddy of the BAU” for nothing.

“Yes sir.”

Releasing his grip on Spencer’s hair, Hotch grabbed onto the back of his neck instead and pulled him in to kiss him deeply, swiping his tongue along Spencer’s bottom lip and biting it roughly while humming in appreciation at the taste of you that lingered. A low growl sounded from deep within Hotch’s chest as he let go of Spencer.

“Good boy. Get undressed and switch places with Morgan.”

While Derek and Spencer swapped places, you moved to sit up on wobbly knees, and Hotch stepped forward to capture your jaw in his large hand, his ring and pinky finger resting along your neck against your pulse point to feel the thrum of your pounding heartbeat. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip lightly, and a flash of pure lust eclipsed over his darkened eyes when you wrapped your lips around it and pressed your tongue firmly against the pad of his thumb. He bent down to where your noses were just barely an inch apart.

“Do you think you could handle two of us at once, sweetheart?”

Your eyes instantly lit up at the question. Normally they all took turns with you, or one fucked you while you sucked another off. You had only taken two of them at once twice before, and while it caused a lingering ache for the following days after, it was absolutely worth it. Nodding your head eagerly, Hotch let out a dark chuckle as a crooked grin split across his lips.

“Good girl.”

Tearing his gaze away, Hotch looked at Derek and tossed him the tie that was in his hand, gesturing with his head towards Spencer’s direction.

“I want his hands tied to the bed.”

Derek turned to look down at Spencer with an amused smirk, taking a step closer towards the edge of the bed as he straightened out the tie in his hands.

“You heard ‘em, pretty boy. Lemme see those hands.”

Spencer let out a whine of protest, turning his head to look at Hotch with a pleading expression, but Hotch gave a firm shake of his head while slipping his jacket off of his broad shoulders and down his arms.

“You follow the rules, you get what you want. You act like a brat, you get treated like one. Next time, you open the door when I tell you to. Give Morgan your hands.”

While Derek slipped the fabric around Spencer’s wrists in an intricate labyrinth to bind them together and tied them to the headboard with Hotch’s tie, Hotch took his time unbuttoning his dress shirt. You watched over your shoulder as Derek expertly weaved the tie around Spencer’s wrists with a soft pout on your lips.

“Don’t think I forgot about you.”

Before you had a moment to process the sound of Hotch unbuckling his belt, he grabbed your hips and twisted your body around to face Spencer, and just as quickly pulled your arms behind your back. Grabbing your wrists in one of his large hands, Hotch slipped the leather of his belt around them to secure your wrists together tightly. Your lips parted in surprise while you gazed down at Spencer below you. His arms were raised above his head, wrists crossed one over the other and bound to the headboard by Hotch’s black tie, the pupils of his eyes blown so wide they nearly obscured the hazel ring of his irises.

Your eyes fell to the sight of his hard cock, fully erect and standing proud to attention, the swollen tip a deep shade of rose and glossed over with weeping arousal. You could see the muscles in his lower abdomen tighten as you noticed him very tenuously flexing his hips upwards against nothing in search of friction.

“He looks pretty like this, doesn’t he?”

Hotch whispered lowly in your ear, the warmth of his breath against your delicate skin causing you to shudder in response and arch your back subtly.

“Yes.”

“Tell him.”

Staring down directly into Spencer’s eyes, a soft whimper caught in your throat while a fresh tide of arousal leaked between your thighs.

“You look so pretty like this, Spence.”

Hotch’s rough hands firmly gripped onto your hips as he pressed his bare chest flush against your back. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your lower back, and you instinctively pushed your ass back against him which caused him to dig his blunt nails into your soft flesh.

“Behave.”

Hotch quietly hissed between clenched teeth. Brushing your hair off your bare shoulder, he nuzzled his nose against the column of your neck and took your earlobe between his teeth, biting down roughly before gliding his tongue along the shell of your ear. A quiet shuddering breath slipped past your lips, and you could feel Hotch grin against your neck.

“Now, listen closely. I want you to ride Spencer while I fuck you from behind, and I want you to open that pretty mouth nice and wide to take Derek’s cock. Understood?”

Derek reached out to cradle your jaw in his large hand, gently tugging your bottom lip down with his thumb as he leaned in and pressed a teasing kiss right beneath your ear, whispering in a sultry voice.

“Think you can handle that, baby girl?”

“She can handle it. She’s a good girl.”

Despite being bound to the bed, Spencer’s voice had a rough and somewhat dominant cadence to it as he spoke matter of factly. All three men shared a knowing look between each other before Hotch smacked his palm against your ass, drawing your attention back to the present with a soft gasp tearing from your lips, reminding you that he expected an answer. Swallowing thickly, you nodded eagerly in a breathless voice.

“Yes.”

Derek arched one of his onyx brows as he slipped his hand down from your jaw down to your throat, giving it a faint squeeze.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir.”

Derek’s lips parted into a dazzling proud grin. He slipped his hand down between your thighs, his index and middle finger experimentally slipping inside your soaked cunt while his thumb teasingly brushed over your sensitive clit. A sharp moan tore from your chest while you clamped your thighs around Derek’s hand, and his dark brown eyes flickered over your shoulder to give Hotch a slight nod of his head.

“Oh she’s more than ready.”

A whimper escaped your lips when Derek retracted his hand and lifted his fingers to his lips to lick them clean. Hotch lifted you up slightly to move you forward, causing you to straddle Spencer’s hips. Both of you let out a piercing whine as the head of his throbbing cock brushed against your pulsing clit, and as a deep chuckle rumbled in Hotch’s chest, you felt it vibrating against your back.

“Good. Then let’s play.”

Reaching down between you and Spencer, Derek wrapped his hands around the base of Spencer’s hard cock, which had Spencer hissing softly and lightly shifting his hips upwards. As Hotch gripped onto your hips and guided you forward, Derek assisted in aligning your body to help you slowly sink down on Spencer’s cock. Spencer had been watching earnestly, but as soon as your welcoming heat enveloped him completely and he bottomed out inside of you, his head fell back against the pillows as he let out a strangled moan, his jaw going slack and his eyes screwed shut.

“Oh f-fuck…”

Spencer was by far the most vocal out of the three of them, and it always filled you with a rush of excitement being able to tear such alluring noises from his pretty mouth.

Giving you only a few seconds to adjust, Hotch placed his palm between your shoulder blades and pushed you forwards, causing you to lean over Spencer completely while Derek moved your hair away from your face. The only reason you hadn’t fallen over was because Hotch had a tight hold on the belt that was bound around your wrists, keeping you suspended in the exact position he wanted you in. Spitting into his palm, Hotch used his saliva as a lubricant to coat the length of his cock as he positioned himself behind you, lifting your hips slightly to make you arch your back and align your ass further up into the air.

“Take a deep breath for me, baby.”

Sucking in a sharp inhale, you dug your nails deeply into the skin of your palms in anticipation. Hotch reached around your body to strum his index and middle finger in quick circles over your clit, ripping a surprised moan from deep within your chest. Thanks to the orgasm Spencer had given you, your body was more relaxed, and your pussy was still slick with your release which made it easier for Hotch to join Spencer inside you. When you felt the blunt head of Hotch’s cock nudging against Spencer’s and slowly stretching you out inch by divine inch, your jaw became fully unhinged and your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head.

“Ohmygod-”

The voice that echoed from your throat didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. It was depleted of oxygen and came out in such a rush that your own ears had trouble unscrambling the words. The sound of Hotch letting out a guttural moan behind you sounded like thunder booming right in your ears. The serrated sting between your thighs was impossible to ignore as your spongy walls were stretched to accommodate them both, but the discomfort paled in comparison to the succulent fullness that you felt. Hotch continued to stimulate jolts of pleasure by strumming your clit with his index and middle fingers, trying to help your body to relax and adjust to the new and overwhelming intrusion.

“Shh…there you go. Just breathe, baby girl.”

Derek was lovingly stroking his fingers through your hair while reminding you to perform such a basic subconscious action. As you struggled to suck in deep breaths, Spencer was impatiently thrusting his hips upwards in a slow rhythm, his biceps flexing while he tugged at the restraints on his wrist. Hotch gripped onto your hips tightly to keep you from falling on top of Spencer, his blunt nails leaving crescent shaped indentations on your soft hips. Once he felt the tension evaporate and your muscles loosening, he started to flex his hips forward to match Spencer’s delicate rhythm.

The composition of their conduction had your body swaying to the idle tempo they had silently established. Spencer and Hotch held you securely between their thighs, gliding back and forth over your delicate strings, coaxing legato notes of pleasure from your lips.

Once Derek could see that you were completely relaxed and ready for more, he moved in closer and brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, a silent signal you instantly obeyed by parting your lips eagerly. A deep sigh of appreciation sounded from Derek’s chest when he slowly slipped his cock past your lips, and he gently traced his thumb along your cheekbone while you moaned at the feeling of his velvet weight caressing your tongue.

This was the first time you had ever taken all three of them at once like this, and it was almost entirely too overwhelming. Every single one of your senses was overstimulated.

Despite the three of them wearing starkly unique colognes, it was impossible to discern which smell belonged to who. Each of their scents perfectly mixed in with your own, creating one indistinguishable fragrance that enveloped you entirely and left you feeling intoxicated and light headed. Your skin was overheated already from the intensity of the moment, but also from the warmth that radiated naturally from each one of them; Hotch’s chest flush against your back, Derek’s palms caressing your cheeks, and Spencer’s thighs lightly smacking against your own.

Even though your heart was pounding in your ears to the point of being deafening, you could hear the heavenly noises escaping each of them. Spencer was whimpering beneath you, begging for you to ride him harder. Derek was panting breathlessly above you, whispering softly how good you felt. Hotch was letting out deep growls and grunts as he moved behind you, demanding lowly in your ear that you take everything he was giving you.

The salty tang of Derek’s leaking arousal coated your tongue, but you could also still taste the roasted blonde espresso from Spencer’s lips and the fresh wintergreen mint that lingered on Hotch’s tongue. The pleasure was getting to be too much, and you couldn’t hardly keep your eyes open. You weren’t even on the brink of another orgasm yet, but there was already a firework show happening behind your eyelids.

Something about this moment was so incredibly perfect, like this was where you all belonged.

Together.

This wasn’t just about sex. It never had been. A piece of you had always belonged to each of them, and vice versa, ever since that first night in Vegas. There was just something about the four of you together that couldn’t be explained, but you all felt it every time you were with each other like this.

A single reaction from one of you set off a chain reaction for the rest of you. Hotch started to snap his hips in more powerful and precise thrusts, causing you to grind down harder on Spencer’s cock, and the vibrations of you moaning around Derek’s cock caused his own rhythm to become sloppy and falter when he began to fuck your face.

The air in the hotel room was thick with heat and sweat like a sauna, and a cacophony of intermingled moans and grunts of satisfaction grew louder and louder the closer you all got to reaching a peak as grand as Everest. The second one of you jumped off the top to free fall, the rest of you would follow.

Spencer was the first to break. He was so far gone he couldn’t even get a warning out, but the second he released inside of you with a loud shout of your name, his spasming hips caused his pubic bone to bump against your clit repeatedly just right to set off your own orgasm. Hotch was fucking you relentlessly from behind as he chased his own high, and the contraction of your walls combined with the flood of yours and Spencer’s release made him double over as he grunted loudly, resting his forehead against your middle back while pumping his seed deeper and deeper within you. Derek was the last to fall apart. He let his head fall back while closing his eyes, his beautiful features twisted up in pure ecstasy as he let out a sensual moan while spilling down your throat.

The four of you were stuck together in a sweaty pile on the bed and no one wanted to move. Derek slowly slipped his softened cock from your lips so you could gasp for air, and he gently ran his fingers through your hair to help you calm down. Hotch did his best to carefully pull out, but the sudden movement had you crying out and tensing up. Hotch peppered gentle kisses along your shoulder blades, shushing you quietly while removing the leather restraint of his belt from your wrists and massaging them gently. Without him holding you up by your hips, you collapsed face first into Spencer’s chest.

When Derek freed Spencer’s wrists from the headboard, Spencer immediately wrapped his arms securely around your trembling frame and cradled your head against his chest. He didn’t dare move, letting himself soften inside of you as he held you there, pressing his lips to your forehead in a soft kiss and delicately carding his fingers through your hair.

Each one of you were panting hard, trying to regain your bearings from such an intense experience, but they had catapulted you so far up into the clouds, you weren’t sure you could ever make it down. It felt as if you had stuck your finger into an outlet, sending an intense shock throughout your entire body, the lingering electricity still crackling with the faintest jolts of motion. Their voices were distant and muffled, like your head was underwater, and you couldn’t focus on anything except the blackness that pulled over the entire horizon behind your eyelids.

Moments later, something cold and wet was pressed against the back of your neck, causing a shiver to spread throughout your body. When your eyes lazily fluttered open, you were met with the dim light of the hotel room, and as you slowly lifted your head, Spencer began to come into focus in front of you. He was laying back against the pillows watching you, holding a washcloth soaked in cold water against the back of your neck while still slipping his fingers through your hair with his other hand. He gently wiped the washcloth over both of your heated cheeks and flashed you a dopey grin.

“Welcome back to Earth, pretty girl.”

A faint blush tinted your cheeks as you looked at him with a tired smile, humming softly while nuzzling into the warmth of his body as you hugged him. “Hi.”

Hearing the sweet and sleepy mumble from your lips, Spencer leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Hotch and Morgan went to grab us some dinner. They’ll be back in a bit. How are you feeling?”

“Sticky.”

Spencer erupted in laughter at the adorable pout on your lips, nodding as he brushed a strand of your hair out of your face.

“There were a lot of bodily fluids being exchanged.”

“Okay, it sounds gross when you say it like that.”

“Is ‘you did have three guys come inside you at once’ better?”

Scrunching up your nose, you weakly lifted your hand to press your index finger against Spencer’s soft lips with a quiet laugh.

“Please shut up.”

Spencer chuckled as he pressed a soft kiss to your finger, tossing the wet washcloth onto the nightstand by the bed.

“Fine. How about a shower?”

“Too much standing.”

“A bath?”

Pretending to think it over, you eventually let out a soft exhale while gazing into Spencer’s hazel eyes with a teasing grin.

“Spencer Reid, you’re a genius.”

The edge of Spencer’s lips tugged upwards into a playful smirk, and he rolled his eyes at your lame joke. He moved to sit up, slipping one of his arms underneath your knees and his other around your waist so he could lift you up into his embrace to carry you towards the bathroom.

“So I’ve been told.”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejloveb0t @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @viscade @starsm00n @kenseverything @storiesofsvu @sabage101 @spiritofthewriter @geeksareunique @urlocalgeek @avencol

1K notes · View notes

tremendum · 1 year

Text

Mr. Miller’s House

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)

word count: 7.6k requested: yes summary: “Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.” warnings: mentions of food/eating, drinking alcohol, age gap (unspecified), Jackson era, Ellie gets a splinter, Joel is honestly rude to Ellie in this and reader is judgy about Joel’s parenting practices lol. but really, this is just filthy smut (PiV, unprotected), dirty talk, sir kink, use of the word slut a LOT, one use of the word bitch, humiliation/degradation, hints of masochism, choking, exhibitionism, public smut, rough sex, dom!Joel, mean joel, lots of fighting/anger, cumplay, dirty talk, ass spanking, pussy spanking, mentions of blood (reader gets scraped knees), throat/facefucking, rough oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms. lmk if i missed any please lmfao

notes: okay jesus fucking christ!!! i wrote this so fasst lol but it was fun and highly requested. hope yall like it. as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because as i have said before im lazy and INSANE!

[this is a sequel to Mr Miller. part three other Joel fics: fever landmines ]

★

this was a mistake. you shouldn't have done this....this was a terrible idea.

fuck.

the chair is stiff beneath you. there's a hard coolness about it that is welcomed on the skin of your bare legs, the shorts you wear helpful in the heat of summer but futile against the slick of sweat that sheens your skin. the chair is hard, but yet still strong, sturdy.

you swallow dryly, heart beating fast. it's the same chair you sat at just a few weeks ago, signing the log with Joel leaning over your shoulder, before he-

you look away, around, anywhere in order to avoid the memories, hot and boiling and clawing at your mind and suffocating you until you stop breathing- and then your eyes settle, they glue themselves across the kitchen table.

they glue themselves to him.

fuck.

Joel's already staring at you; his lips are downturned in that permanent grimace he always sports, the muscles of his torso rigid with immobility - perhaps he thinks if he's still enough, the ground will just swallow him whole and he won't have to do this.

you yearn for that escape as much as he does.

then, out of the silence; "see, this isn't so bad."

speak for yourself, Ellie.

both heads in the room turn to the speaker slowly, the girl watching between the two of you, more than willing to ignore the obvious disdain in the air. she's grinning like a damn devil.

this girl's going to kill you.

it is that bad, contrary to Ellie's statement.

it'd been days of her begging you, with a tug on the hand, a punch to the shoulder, and countless pleads and threats until you finally caved in and accepted her proposal to have her and Joel over for dinner.

no matter how much you detest her guardian, you just can't resist those big puppy-dog eyes, or that gigantic, youthful smile.

for the last few months, Ellie has grown to be quite the little farmhand for you; though you like to keep to yourself on your days in the gardens, it was nice to have the girl buzzing around you and the other gardeners, pollinating each person she sees with questions like what really happens in germination and is this ripe? can I pull it?

it's cute, how excited she is to show Joel all of the crops you've grown with her in the last few months. but what isn't cute, is that it's him that has to be here. of all people, why did Joel have to be the one Ellie chose as her father?

because.... things weren't okay between you and Joel.

you're not sure if you were childish for expecting for him to warm up to you after - well, after the time he bent you on this table and fucked you stupid - but you hadn't been prepared for the coldest shoulder you've ever gotten in your measly life for the last few weeks.

it didn't help that the summer was kicking up and you needed more crops than ever for the commune; your patrolling had dwindled into maybe one or two every week or so, usually with Maria - so you didn't have to face Joel, really, at all.

but he avoided you like the plague when in town or on your street (though, he did that with everyone) and even at the Tipsy Bison, where your presence would clean him from the room before a drop of condensation could even slide down his glass of whiskey.

hell, maybe he even put a word in with Maria and Tommy that the last patrol together didn't go as planned; you'd even considered doing it at one point. you're not sure, but it just made you all the more irritated when you'd catch glimpses of their porch in the afternoons, Joel holding a guitar around Ellie's chest, chuckling as she strummed horribly. as if everything was okay. like you didn’t exist.

the anger and hatred grew awful.

it festered, grew when Maria mentioned off-handedly to Tommy that some woman, Dahlia, had taken a liking to Joel. you'd nearly shattered the glass you were holding in your fist at that; Joel, with Dahlia? that grumpy piece of shit, taking a liking to someone sweet and kind like her?

you ought to punch his fucking face.

you're zoned out when Ellie suddenly comes into your line of sight; reaching over your chest to grab a slice of the fresh bread you'd picked up earlier that day. you blink back into reality as Joel grunts, "E-Ellie, hey." he's shaking his head as he gestures to her arm, "use your manners."

he sounds almost embarrassed; annoyed. your mind betrays you as it whirls back; when Joel had you pinned down on this very table, commanding you in a different way, his eyes dark with delight as you cried and writhed for him.

but at his chastising, you send Ellie a sneaky look, rolling your eyes when Joel's looking down. the girl chuckles at that and an untrusting Joel stares daggers between the two of you. Ellie clears her throat with a smirk, "sorry. can you please pass me the bread?"

you grin, "why, yes, ma'am." you hand her the basket, "thank you for asking." you add to the girl on your right, your eyes on Joel's. he stares back harshly, hand grabbing for the glass of wine that sits in front of him.

another few moments of tension before Elie decided to take it upon herself to introduce as much of the food that sits on the table in front of you as she can remember.

peas, spinach, lentil and cabbage stew, beet salad, goat cheese and roasted carrots, cauliflower mash. fresh bread.

proteins from animals are scarce and are typically served in only the dining hall, so you decided to skip the meat and serve roasted artichoke instead. Joel doesn't look too thrilled about that as Ellie explains. you hide your scoff behind a sip of your dark wine.

"-and, look, I planted these beets." Ellie points to the bowl on the table which houses arugula and beet salad; you smirk down at the plate as Joel hums as if interested. his eyes flicker to yours from across the table as Ellie delves in on a tangent about how bloody beets look, those dark pupils flickering over your face before flitting back to the young girl. his eyes were swimming with something else, something.... seductive.

a shiver runs down your spine.

does he ever think about it?

you do. you think about it every night - how his hands felt, rough, unforgiving; the look on his face, that dark smirk when he'd made you beg for him to ruin you... the frenzy in his eyes when he'd ‘taught you some goddamn manners,’ when he'd taken you apart brutally and quick. Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.

your name calls you back to Ellie, whose eyes are wide and tracing over a rough, splintered notch in your table, "the hell is this from, is it-" her fingers jolt away at the rugged piece that slides into her skin, "shit!" she yelps, shaking her hand.

your brows furrow, rising to help her as Joel pulls her hand towards him. "I have tweezers." you mutter, disappearing into your bathroom to pull out your tweezers, returning to see Ellie smiling in embarrassment and Joel sitting with his arms crossed, amused irritation lacing his face. his beard is growing in more recently - you can hear the noise of the short bristles scratching his hand as he rubs his knuckles over his jawline.

nodding, pleased that Ellie's discomfort has subsided, you set your tweezers on your right, spearing some salad on your fork as silence cradles you three yet again.

it’s only tense and silent for a moment. then Ellie speaks, and it’s just tense.

"why is there a notch like that in your table?" she finally wheezes, as if she'd been summoned to be silent until she couldn't handle her curiosity anymore.

you don't have to look up to know that a pair of dark eyes pin you to your chair, daring you to say something about it.

your throat dries as you swallow your mouthful of salad, coughing a bit.

a rip in your flannel, the grazing of your soft skin with the blade. a hand pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the thick slide of Joel as he drags his length through your destroyed, spent core.

"um- I-I" perhaps it's your panic, of the knowledge that his eyes are glued to you, but soon your eyes meet his; unwavering. "well. someone likes to threaten people when they can't find patrol logs."

"Joel!" Ellie hisses, smacking his arm, "you fucking stabbed her table and didn’t do anything about it?” she’s grinning.

"yeah, Joel," you smirk, swirling with desire as his hawkish gaze pins you to your chair, "you really should use your manners. you've ruined my table."

"shut the hell up right now." he snaps at you, hand slamming his fork down harshly onto the plate. you and Ellie both jump at the sternness in his voice.

you listen, for once.

and honestly, ten minutes ago feels like heaven compared to the tenseness of this silence.

several minutes go by, the sounds of scraping forks and knives and the meager attempts by you and Ellie to salvage a decent dinner conversation ringing soft in your kitchen.

at least you and her are trying.

you ignore the notch from the knife like a wildfire and pretend Joel isn't even with you; Ellie is more than enough life and laughter for you, and your playful disposition matches hers perfectly despite the joy-damper of a man sat across from you.

he's stewing. arms crossed, chewing on food here and then, mostly listening and sighing, brushing off Ellie's jabs or playful questions or stories. he won't do anything except eat and glare at you.

the wine bottle is nearly gone and you're not sure if it's his fault or yours. probably both.

you snap when he just outright ignores Ellie, shaking his head with a sigh and taking another bite. the audacity.

"-she asked you a question, Miller." you snap, fed up with his dissociative disposition. you don't even intend to say it; even Ellie looks up at your words, surprised.

his head turns to face you too slow to be safe. his eyes are fucking furious as he mutters, "excuse me?"

"hey, guys-" Ellie's hands are out in front of her, but you can't take your eyes off him.

"I'm just saying, you could at least try to pay attention." you spit, crossing your arms defensively, "we made this dinner, we're just trying to have a conversation, the least you could do-"

"you don't tell me what to do." he states, calm and cool, pointing at you. his nose flares as he breaths heavy, your own breath quickening. arousal rushes to your center and you shift on your seat.

"-listen, maybe this was a bad idea. I knew you weren't the best of friends, but this is-" Ellie starts again, eyes flickering between you both. "this is too awkward."

"no, Ellie, I'm sorry-" you start to say, breaking.

you don't want her to be caught in the cross-fire of your problems with Joel; it's unfair. the further this goes, the more she'll be put in a position of mediator, so you figure it should just end now.

"Ellie, go home."

Joel growls the demand, eyes looking to her, his hand falling gently to her shoulder. her eyes widen, as if asking him if he's serious.

"what?" she asks, "no! you'll-you’ll fucking stab each other or something."

yeah, you think. you might.

Joel's shaken off her shoulder but he's resilient, "go on, go see the kids for the movie. I'll come later. we just need to sort something out." he mutters, eyes falling to you at the tail end of his sentence.

shivers roll down your spine; fuck, fuck - a flood of arousal hits you again, and you swallow, willing the feelings to go the fuck away.

Ellie's scowling, but still has the decency to thank you for dinner before slamming the door hard on her way out of the threshold.

Joel's eyes stay locked with yours until her footsteps are gone.

it’s silent for a moment before he speaks.

"do not fuckin' disrespect me like that in front of her again." he snaps.

you narrow your eyes, "you're concerned that I- what, I undermined you in front of your girl?" you hiss incredulously. "come on, that's pathetic."

"I don't like you." he snaps, shoving his plate away from him in an almost childish act of defiance. it’s shocking, the immaturity of his words so sudden. barely prompted.

it's clear he intends to continue this little confessional of his, but you have no intention of allowing that.

you roll your eyes, "big fucking deal. what do you want me to say?" you hiss, "sorry that I was rude, Mr. Miller! let me just cook you fucking dinner and invite you over to make up for it."

his nostrils flare, "never wanted to do this in the first place." he mutters.

you nearly rip out your hair in frustration. "obviously you didn't! christ, why do you always act like everything you do is a goddamn chore?" you snap, "Ellie wanted to have a nice night and show you what we've been doing- what she's been doing for this community. and all you can do is sit here and act like a fucking asshole because you don't know how to enjoy anything. it's a miracle she's still around with you, when you treat her like that."

his jaw clicks in anger, "you have no fuckin' clue what we've been through together." his voice is close to a yell, "you don't know how much that girl means to me."

"then why won't you show her!?" you yell.

it quiets the room for a moment and a fleeting feeling of pride is squashed when he speaks again.

his brows raise, a look of realization creeping onto his face. he nods his head, "I see what this is," he lets out a bitter, mocking laugh. "you want me to tell you how much I love your food? y'trying to prove to me that you're not a bad influence on her, after all?"

you stare at him, anger clouding your sight; are there tears of frustration rimming your eyes? you hope he doesn't notice.

"-newsflash, darlin', I don't fucking care about you." he finishes, scowl dark. "you're a nuisance. don' know why Tommy took you in, anyways. you're a foul-mouthed, untrustworthy, pathetic little slut- and jus' because you can't stop thinking about my cock doesn't mean I owe anything to you. no dinner, no fuckin- cordial neighborly attitude, nothing."

thinking about- what?

oh, fuck him. your face burns; your jaw unhinges. of course he thinks this is about you and him. your eyes spare a quick, fleeting glance to the notch in the table before you glare, "well I don't fucking care about you either, Miller. don't be so fucking conceited."

he laughs, shaking his head as he downs the remainder of his wine before slamming the glass down, but you're not finished. you can't let him think he's won.

"you’re delusional. I haven't thought of it once." you spit, aflame at his accusation. you feel flustered, still caught off-guard. if anything, it was him who was obsessed with it - you see the way his eyes can't leave you; the way he adjusted his jeans earlier when you leaned over to pull a bowl from your cabinet.

"really?" he spits, brows raised. his chest moves with the exertion of your yelling and you resist the urge to hit him or stomp your foot or anything. "yes, really." you defend, face heating up under the scrutiny of his knowing gaze.

"anyone ever tell you you're an awful liar, sweetheart?" he drawls, raising his brows at you.

you fume, standing up, pointing to the door, "get the fuck out, Joel."

his eyes light ablaze with the same anger that rages in your heart as he stands, throwing his napkin on his plate, "gladly. food was great." he spits, storming out of the house with no other words.

your scowl doesn't leave your face for the entire rest of the night. what- what the fuck was that? how dare Joel assume so much about you- he doesn't know you, at all.

your eyes fall to the bottle in your hands.

ellie left her water canteen at your place. you were so angry, so mad earlier, that you hadn’t realized she’d left it until a few minutes ago.

she doesn't need it, right? she could get it next time she comes round. yeah. she'll get it next time, you don't have to go over. right?

no.

you have to go over.

the anger within you festers just as much as the slick that plagues the apex of your thighs in the aftermath of your spat with Joel; it's a vicious cycle where you think about his tone, how condescending it was and then you get mad - but some sick part of you wants it to consume you; wants him to consume you.

you’re fucking obsessed with him. you hate him.

you need to hear him yell at you again- if-if anything, to get your ten cents in on the argument, and also maybe to get some good content for your wet dreams tonight. jesus christ.

god, you're so fucked up.

christ.

so once you finish cleaning from the remnants of the meal, your legs are carrying you over to his house with Ellie's canteen in your hand before you can second-guess it.

what the fuck are you doing?

you're standing on their porch in mere seconds, your breath heavy with wrath. what if Ellie opens the door? well- you suppose, if she does, you'll give her the canteen and talk to her. probably apologize for acting the way you did. no business with Joel, then. yeah. that’s... that’s fine.

fuck. why do you want Joel to answer so terribly?

you know where the answer lies - a coiling beast of arousal, consuming and muddling your mind, just at the apex of your thighs.

Joel is a fucking asshole. you need him. now.

your knuckles slam so hard and unforgiving against their door that there is no possibility of them assuming it's anybody else but you at their porch. their light is flickering and dim above you as you stand, canteen in hand, eyes trained forward in determination.

the door swings open in an air of irritation.

your face jerks back as Joel Miller stands, staring at you with the disdain of a thousand lifetimes swirling around his eyes.

"y'here for more?" he snarks.

your momentary hesitation melts away when his words drip from his lips. a glare pierces him through the eyes when you shove the canteen into his hands, "I'm here for Ellie. she left this." you spit.

he lets out a chuckle, humor absent from the ring as he scratches his nose, "right." he mutters. "well she ain't home. went to the movie in town." he clips, setting the canteen on the table just inside the house. "y'need me to pass any more of your words of wisdom on to her?" he asks, voice clipped and prickled with sarcasm.

you glare. "yeah. just do me a favor, tell her I'm sorry her dad is being a hypocritical, neglecting asshole." you snark, sending a false smile up at him as he leans with his arms crossed at the doorway.

you don't miss how he leans into it, how he's not slamming the door on your face. he wants to argue, too. "-and you can suck a dick, Mr. Miller." you add, intending to whirl away on your heel.

he scoffs, a deep and condescending noise. "thanks for comin' all the way over to return a little canteen. g'night, darlin', hope you don't make too much'a mess when you cum all over that table again tonight thinkin' of how much I hate you. glad y'got your ten cents in."

your face burns hot in embarrassment, and at the irony of him using the same phrase you’d thought.

the door moves quick to shut, but your arm moves quicker.

your hand wedges is just before it shuts, leaving you far too close to Joel than you'd like - gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey surround your senses. again.

so you shoot another fist forward, aiming for his left jaw; aiming for it to hurt.

he’s going to fucking hurt.

it doesn't make contact with the warm skin, though: no, his hand has caught your wrist in an iron-tight grip, wrenching your arm down hard.

you let out a gasp of surprise as he shoves you off of the door and away from him before you can blink.

but instead of the door slamming in your face, his rough hands are pushing you hard up against the side of his garage. the door behind him remains ajar as he pushes himself into your space, growling at you as your mouth falls open in shock.

"did you just try to hit me, girl?" he whispers, voice deadly serious. you swallow, arousal rushing down to your heat; you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy as he stares hard at you, but your eyes trail down to his jeans.

you hide your smirk as you take in the stretch of the rough denim, the outline of his own arousal evident even in the dim light. he’s hard because you were going to hit him.

your body aches as you remember the stretch of him inside you, splitting you open. your eyes flicker back up to his where he breathes heavily, expecting a response.

you give him one.

"yes, but you already knew that." you smirk, cocking your head as you boldly gyrate your hips forward slightly, your clothed cunt clenching in desire as you graze his hard-on. "or are you not hard right now, Mr. Miller?" you purr, your voice laced with seduction.

his rough hand shoves your hips hard back against the wall, a growl slipping his throat. "y'got a dirty fuckin' mouth on you." his breath hits your cheeks in a warm reminder of the wine you'd both had for dinner.

"so it wasn't because of that?" you ask, blinking in a false sense of innocence, watching as his eyes swim with an animalistic hunger. you've got him right where you want him. "was it from thinking about me touching myself? or, from remembering the last time we were together in my house?"

his momentary lapse in recovery allows for you to go in for the final kill, "Mr. Miller,” you coo, “do you think of my pussy when you fuck Dahlia? d'you wish it was me?" you spit, smirking up at him as red splatters his furious features, "you can talk all you want, Mr. Miller, but I know you're just a greedy, desperate man who loves to pretend you have any power over me." you whisper into the shell of his ear, palm roughly grabbing the outline of his cock boldly.

his next movements take your breath away: the shock of his fists slamming hard against the wall on either side of your head makes you jump, and his hawkish, angry eyes bore into yours.

"get your fuckin' hands off of me. now."

his voice is... scary.

the blood leaves your head as your damp spot of your pants floods with desire, the fear spiking a real excitement in you. you are smart enough to follow his orders; the look in his eyes suggests you do so.

your hands shakily fly back from his crotch to hang by your sides as you stare up at him - nervous. excited, ready.

his eyes are narrowed, stern as his brows are furrowed low. the permanent scowl on his lips is intimidating as he holds your gaze with fierce intent. "you're gonna be real fuckin' honest with me, now. okay?"

you swallow dryly, staring up at his face, how he's boxed you in with arms on either side of your head. you feel cornered, small; prey, hunted by predator.

you nod smally, startled into silence, unable to speak as the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. your legs clench, searching for relief only to be disappointed at the dull sensation.

he stares at you for a few moments, unmoving except for the flaring of his nostrils and the rising of his chest as he breathes just as heavy as you.

"are you wet?"

your face flushes with heat. christ, Joel is going to kill you. (if you don't kill him first). your legs feel weak, desire driving your heart rate up as you nod meekly, voice cracking out. "y-yes."

he nods, seemingly pleased with your honesty.

"how long have you been walkin' round with ruined panties?" his head tilts down slightly, angled down at you as if chastising you. you flush in shame, genuinely taking a moment to remember the exact moment you first noticed your underwear dampen.

you can't admit to him that you woke up this morning with his name on your lips and a wet patch on the seat of your sleep shorts, can you? (and certainly not that it happens every day.)

"s-since-" you take a sharp inhale, glaring at him for humiliating you like this - outside, no less. anybody could walk past or look out their window and see Joel and you like this. "dinner."

his brows raise, the look darkening on his face. you can tell, he loves the beginning - the teasing, the arguing, the embarrassment - just as much as the end. "dinner? s'like, two hours." his frown immodest, tempting. judging.

you nod, biting back a snide comment about Joel being an excellent time-teller, your face burning in embarrassment as you break eye contact, staring at your feet.

"d’you like being a slut?" he asks, then. you nearly whimper at his words, the aching in your cunt burning, pulsing and clenching around nothing as you stare at him in desire. fuck Joel Miller.

"'m not a slut." you say, but the defiant words come out more as a whine than a sharp argument. one hand falls from the wall on your left to grip onto your jaw, holding your cheeks hard as he forces your eyes back up to him.

his nails dig into the soft flesh of your cheeks as you gasp, your own hands in fists as you resist pulling him into you.

"that's not what I fuckin' asked, now, is it?" he sneers. you blink up at him, shaking your head after a moment of contemplation. "no, sir." you whisper meekly. you don't miss the tightening of his grip at the honorific as it falls sultry from your lips. he hums.

"do you want me to touch you?" he asks next. you can't even have the decency to stop your whine as you nod, "yes, please."

his other hand falls from the wall, eyes just as angry and unforgiving as he undoes the button on your shorts single-handedly. "good. don't you fuckin' look away from my eyes, y'hear me? hands down, eyes up."

this is twice now that he hasn't let you touch him - your brows furrow, but just as he snaps in front of your face, you let the thought melt away.

"y-yes, sir." you nod, your palms sweaty, heart thundering as he shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, breaching your underwear easily as fingers slide through the deft curls that lie just above your heat.

"gotta warm y'up for me this time," he mutters, eyes sharp as he watches yours, ensuring they don't do as much as blink.

it's delicious, almost too much as two of his thick fingers part the seam of your lips, your wetness spilling and coating his fingers immediately. you burn in shame, thighs starting to close over his hand.

one ruddy, thick thigh slides to kick your leg to the side, widening your stance as he shoves you harder up against the side of the house. the tip of his finger prods at your aching hole, leaking with desperation for him.

there are crickets outside, a steady but low staccato of music filling the summer Jackson air as one finger slowly slides into you, curling unforgivingly as you gasp, rising on your toes as he stretches you. "fuck," you whimper, throwing your head back against the wall behind you.

the thud is dull, but it echoes around the street and it calls your attention to the very public space you're in.

"hey." Joel snaps, one hand swatting your cheek lightly as your eyes close, "don't look away."

you blink back at him as he pumps lazily for a few moments, watching your every micro-expression, the way your chest stutters with his motions. the noise of your arousal is humiliating against the pleasant summer breeze.

you can't help the low moan of his name when he adds a second finger. the stretch is nothing like when it's his cock inside of you, but the strokes, the curl of his fingers start to coax a simmering coil in you that you know will explode soon.

your eyes are still on his obediently when you nearly whisper it.

he hears it, though, and smirks, "what was that, darlin’?"

you groan in irritation but it splinters into a sharp moan when his fingers pick up their pace, fucking into you as you lie slack against the wall, legs trembling.

"just- fuck me. fuck me now." you wheeze, the desire a burning snake that coils around your chest and squeezes at your heart.

"no." he decides, eyes glaring, "can't have y'whining like a bitch again, darlin'. gotta open you up on my fingers first." the sting of his words are cushioned by the lust that swirls around his voice, the languid was his thick fingers pump up into you, holding you up against the frame of the house with a dark smirk.

you nod, hissing in stimulation when one finger slides to start rubbing your neglected clit with just enough pressure to curl your toes; your chest is slick with sweat, fingernails digging painfully into the meat of your palm as you hum, lips sealed tight to avoid yelping out.

your eyes flicker from his once more, scanning the street just feet away from you, paranoid of the possibility of a neighbor seeing you.

Joel notices, of course. "what, baby, don' want the neighbors to see?" he hums, eyes cutting into you as your face flushes with heat, "y'seemed to want everybody to hear me fucking you stupid last time, didn't 'ya?"

you groan, "fuck you, Joel."

his hand stops its ministrations just as cold ice pours down your spine. oh, shit.

his hand slides out of your pants, face furious.

you shake your head, eyes welling with tears; you hadn't meant for it to slip out like that. "n-no, wait, 'm sorry, didn't mean it." you whimper, voice choked with the loss of his hand.

he just huffs a cold chuckle, wiping his hand over his face, the other one glistening with your juices under the light of the porch.

your panicked, desperate babble of apologies is stopped with one look from him.

"get on your goddamn knees now."

you shiver with excitement, tears drying slightly as you swallow, complying quickly. the cement is rough and cold under your bare knees, your hands held still together on your thighs as you stare up at him in wait. he stands tall before you; the shroud of the flickering porch light emboldening him, making him look like a god - an unforgiving one, at that - as he pulls his thick, pulsing cock from his jeans.

your mouth waters as he starts to pump it languidly, the tip a red color from arousal, leaking precum.

he doesn’t have to ask you to open your mouth for him, your own desire to taste him spurring you to stick your tongue out flat in wait for his dick.

"I'm going to ask you again." he says, tapping your tongue with the weight of his length, the slapping noise flooding your underwear as you ache to feel him again. "do you like being a slut?"

you swallow, tongue sliding along the bottom of his head as you do, muttering a slight, "yes, sir."

"'s right. you love being my slut." he nods, your mouth open and ready for him as he thrusts his whole length into your wet, warm mouth; you gag almost immediately, his hips unforgiving as he immediately starts to fuck into your throat. you try your best to breathe through your nose, gagging as his tip pokes the back of your throat - you know there'll be a bruise that will make it painful to eat, drink, speak - you fucking love it.

he lets out a grunt of arousal, nodding as his hands gather your hair from your face, gripping your cheeks and pushing your head back against the side of the house.

two thrusts, a few tears from your eyes as you choke, your lungs burning for air.

he pulls away, you suck in air with a strangled gasp. your saliva links you to his heavy cock, a chain that holds you in his grasp. "tell me you love being my slut."

you burn at his words and in your brief hesitation, his cock is slapping at your mouth, his impatience bleeding through his actions.

"I-" your voice is wrecked after only a few seconds of him in your mouth, but you swallow as you gasp for air, "I l-love being your slut."

he slides himself through your slick lips again, hips a punishing pace as he fills up your mouth, your throat tight and wet. his groan echoes through the street; in the corner of your eye, you swear you see a light turn on in a bedroom window. shivers of desire run through you as you resist the urge to touch yourself.

you can't breathe; your nose brushes against the course hair at the base of his shaft, the scent of him surrounding you as his hips try to smash you against the side of the house.

he holds you there, hands rough on your cheeks, slapping your right cheek as it bulges with his length. you choke, gagging as you try your hardest to keep eye contact. his face is harsh, his sneer cold as he stares at you, "'s right, choke on your fuckin' words, darlin'." his hips press forward slightly and you cough around him, it's too much - tears slide down your cheeks as you try not to gag more.

"you gonna disrespect me again?" he asks, tilting his head as spit trails down your chin, tears meeting the trail of saliva as it drips down onto your chest.

you can only hum a nuh-uh around his cock, hoping it's enough to satisfy him. you feel yourself throb and fucking burn with need, your knees sore from the cement under you.

you cough and sputter when he pulls himself away from you, mouth sore, jaw aching and throat wrecked. his eyes flicker over to the house across the street before he grips your shoulder, tugging you in your aroused, dazed state up to your legs.

"oh, darlin', you're bleedin'." he coos at you, thumb swiping your cheek as you stand up. he's right: your knees are just scratched enough to speckle the skin with dark splotches of blood. you feel a tingling sensation of arousal as he hums, "let's get you inside, hm?"

you stumble to keep up as he storms through the threshold of the house, the door swinging shut after your shaking frame falls inside. it's dark; there is only one lamp turned on in the other room.

Joel is almost a shadow as he surrounds you, your hands falling onto his large, stiff shoulders as he pushes you against the door frame.

your legs give out from desire soon and the two of you tumble to the ground, a mess of grunts and shoves, tearing at clothes as you whimper in desire, his own lustful groans echoing the empty house. as his pants are shucked off and your shorts are thrown across the room, your hips are shoved and flipped over until you're ass-up for him, one of his large hands moving roughly to grab a handful of your plush behind.

your hands and knees ache, but you wiggle your ass slightly in need, not daring to speak to him. the anger that radiates from the two of you is a grenade; you can feel the tension bubbling behind your desire and so you just move back until you brush against his hard length, the fabric of your panties completely soaked as you grind against him.

his moan echoes as a hand falls hard to slap against the skin of your ass. you let out a strangled yell, the pain stinging through you as you keen forward. you know there will be a handprint branded into you, you know it'll be sore to sit and you'll have to think of him each time. he'll consume you for days.

you love it.

his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with desire, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty cunt, just for me." he mutters; you shake with desire when you realize it was more a mutter for him than an intentional phrase for you to hear.

"think you're ready for me, baby?" he grunts, his fingers pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your puffy, glistening cunt to him.

"I'm so re-ready sir, please, fuck me." you beg, reduced yet again to nothing but a writhing mess for the worst man you know.

he gives no warning, no teasing - he breaches you swiftly and rough. you scream.

it cracks, it echoes, it's painful as you yell out, his cock heavy and huge and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within a few seconds. Joel's moan reverberates on your skin as his hands grip so hard at your ass you think his fingers will remain there for days.

he immediately sets a pace that has you squirming under him, breath choking up in your chest as you slide against the hardwood. the smell of the house is Joel - sandalwood, whiskey, pine. sex.

your arms are tugged roughly.

panic rises in you when you think you're about to slam your face against the floor, but as Joel pounds hard into you, he pulls your hands tight to your back, holding you up to you're suspended with just his cock working you open can keep you from falling.

it's bliss. it's sharp, this angle; he hits into that spongy spot inside you as his cock drags against your pulsing walls, your hands clenching as your breath leaves you.

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as he reaches up into you deeply. then it snakes lower, rocking you forward as he swats at your clit, the sharp smack of his palm causing you to squeeeeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- jesus christ, girl, you're s-so tight."

the noises of your arousal swallowing his dick echo around the room in a sickening chorus.

"dumb girl, lovin' it when I yell at her," he mutters to himself, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "gonna be o-obedient and thank me for each orgasm, 'kay?" his accent is thick in the throes of passion, you notice.

you nod, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful; you let out a wheeze of ecstasy. "y-yes, s-sir," you choke, your voice croaking from the remnants of his dick wrecking you.

you barely realize you're cumming until you’re screaming, a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision. tears are resurfacing on your eyes as he hums, "say it."

you swallow, shakily squirming as he pounds into you, unforgiving in tone and pace. "than-thank you."

it only takes a few more minutes and his thick hand squeezing your throat before you cum for a second time, your hands pulling at his hips, trying to escape the overstimulation of his long, dragging thrusts. the floor is slick with your juices, and so is his pubic bone.

"thank you, s-sir." you slur out, his hand holding you by the throat against his chest, his heartbeat slamming just as fast as yours.

soon he drops your arms, their shaky muscles barely stopping you as you fall to the floor. his chest follows you until he's smothering you, thrusts becoming weak with his own nearing orgasm. you cry, the overstimulation causing you to shake. "'s too much, too much."

he hums, "you want me to stop?"

"no!" you scream it, wail it; no, christ, don't stop. never stop.

he chuckles; a dark, brooding noise. "an' you wonder why I think you're such a bad influence." he mutters into the shell of your ear as he pushes further, deeper into you; "lettin' an old man fuck you into the floor. lovin' it."

he chuckles as you let out a whine, eyes screwing shut at the bursts of pleasure coursing through you. your knees ache.

"'s dirty, isn't it? and you love it, pretty girl."

you let your cheek drop onto the hardwood at his ministrations, spent from your previous orgasms; the pet name makes you flush, arching your hips back. he's so deep, you feel him in your throat. each thrust pushes his tip into your cervix, a dull ache with a swirl of pleasure and ecstasy. you let out a groan, "love it, love it s'much. love it, sir, thank you." you whimper, your brain empty except for Joel Joel JoelJoel-

"good m-manners, sweet girl." he hums, pressing a hot kiss to your spine. goosebumps form in his wake, his words echoing in your brain. sweet girl.

"you're gonna cum one more time." he orders, the thrusts of his hips grinding you down, melting you, tearing you. you nod, "yes, yes-yes, fuck, gonna-gonna cum again." you whimper, the painful overstimulation of his cock drilling through your spent, swollen folds.

your third orgasm has you wailing, shaking your head as you convulse in pleasure, his strong grip holding your hips down as he hits your spot repeatedly, the noise of him fucking into you echoing through the foyer.

there's tears on the floor as you shake, colors exploding behind your eyes as he whispers things you cannot hear into your ear.

when you come to, he's still ravaging your body.

you're limp, ecstasy flowing through your very being as his cock spears through you, hands smacking you, gripping you, grunts leaving his mouth as he nears his own orgasm, having pulled three from you.

"where are your manners?" he whispers into your ear. you let out a broken half-laugh, half-gasp. "fuck- thank you, Joel, thank you."

he hums in satisfaction and you swear you feel his cock twitch inside you as you utter his first name.

he's back in your ear in seconds, surrounding you, swallowing you whole. you love it.

"this is my pussy. mine." he grunts, "never think 'bout any other pussy. jus' this one. always." his voice is laced with desperation as he swats your ass, thrusting into you a few more times as you squirm, sobbing, throat raw.

yours, you whimper in a chorus, body limp as he uses you; his thrusts are sloppy. he's so close-

and he cums just as he's pulling out of you; you gasp at the loss but also as his cum shoots hot spurts across the plush curve of your ass, a bit onto your spine - most of it over your ruined pussy, streaking you in white.

you pulse around nothing, shaking as your legs give out. he groans a deep thing, fingers falling to spread you open, the lewd noise soft and slick.

you jolt and he shushes you with a soft caress of your back. "jus' wanna see it, baby. wanna see how I ruined you."

you swallow dryly at that, nodding as you tilt your hips, eager to feel his eyes over you, over all of you; eager for him.

a finger smears his spend over your juices, pressing lightly at your puckered hole, pushing some of his cum back into you. "fuckin' christ, girl."

you set out a laugh that turns into a cough of pain at the ragged state of your throat.

he stands and leaves you on the cold floor, covered in sweat. you try not to let your heart deflate when he’s gone.

but he returns with a rag and hands it to you before shucking his jeans on; you pull your underwear back on with shaky hands once you’ve wiped yourself clean, your body exhausted.

you sigh. even the thought of making the trek just a few houses down to your own place is daunting as your eyes flutter. something in his eyes glint in understanding when your gazes meet each other, and he seems to get it.

so if Joel gathers you in his arms with a grunt and a short complaint, you don't think too much about it.

(you hate him. he hates you.)

and if he holds your head to his chest as he starts the walk back to your house, it’s not a big deal to you.

when brings you up into your bedroom instead of leaving you at your front door as he finally carries you to your house, you chalk it up to you being nearly asleep. you must be delirious when he tucks you into your mattress and pulls your blankets up. you swear he mutters something about dinner and nice and good job.

(what a cocky asshole.)

it's probably a dream, when a hand caresses the sweaty skin of your forehead, brushing hair away gently before footsteps disappear through the doorway.

. part three .

requests open

#joel miller smut #joel x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #Joel Miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tlou spoilers #tlou fanfiction #the last of us (hbo)#the last of us (tv)

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genshxn · 8 months

Text

dan heng being bad at feelings, the sequel.

started writing this pre-1.3, so i am once again emphasizing that i am making shit up. (well, 1.3 dropped while still working on this and the TB mission was rather lacklustre, so i'm gonna half ignore it).

sorry for any typos/mistakes/whatever, most of this was written at dubious hours of the night.

contains. mild-moderate canon divergence, dubious jing yuan shenanigans, dh being somewhat down bad. i dropped a bit too much spice in, so it is no longer “mild”. take that as you will.

7.5K words. THIS IS SO FUCKING EMBARRASSING.

here's the first part in case you haven't read it. you're still not the trailblazer.

tags: @akhiran @cypunk-0 @fiona782 @seelelovesbronya @bleakqblake @xiaos-poems

this place is not a place of honour. no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here…nothing valued is here. Below 15, DNI. Go away.

the next day, you awoke to a feeling of emptiness at your side. any part of the bed that your limbs weren’t splayed upon was long cold with dan heng’s absence. you were alone, still left in the nest of sheets and pillows he arranged himself. it couldn’t have all been some kind of fever-dream, could it?

no, any such possibility was dashed when you looked at the messages on your phone. one unread, left two hours ago.

with the ellipsis and all. oh, the self-inflicted misery. (does he really consider every single person his enemy?) you sighed, swinging your feet off the side of the bed to get up. if you knew him well enough, then you already knew the next little while was going to be tricky, to say the least. it was obvious what his plan was from the beginning, with him abandoning your side at the sun’s first rays: avoidance.

and avoid you, he did. in the denouement after phantylia’s attack, he still had to be around you, but the stiltedness he carried with him was palpable. he made a point to stand as socially acceptably far from you. it was almost like he was acting like a ghost solely to you. elusive, non-communicative, only seen out of the corner of your eye. perhaps leaving you with the lingering feeling of being watched, and ultimately gone before you could even call his name. in fact, he quite literally ghosted you. he wouldn’t even respond to your messages.

once the day after the final events rolled around, you thought that maybe he would have had enough time to finally be able to face you again, but no. apparently he elected to confine himself to the archives the moment he returned aboard the express. however, this didn’t deter you from going knocking on his door.

"dan heng?" you tapped on the sealed door. your ear was right up against the frame, listening intently.

whatever shuffling was coming from within fell still at your voice.

"dan heng, i know you’re in there. i just heard you stop moving."

there was more silence, then followed by a sigh. "did pom-pom not relay my one request?"

"no, they did. told me that i’m not allowed near the archives."

"yet you’re still here…" his voice was strained, and distant from the door. he must have been sitting either at his desk or on his thin, messy futon. beyond that, it was hard to imagine what he was doing in there, or even what he looked like. it was surprising. you thought he struggled to control his form, but it seemed no problem when he wasn’t with you. so was he the regular old dan heng sitting in there? or the vidyadhara that laid next to you that night?

"you really think i’m gonna listen? i never do." you squared yourself further towards the door. "now, c’mon. we’re already talking, so can’t you just—"

"n-no, i can’t," he cut you off. "i… i’m sorry, but not here, and not like this."

"can you at least tell me why you say you can’t be around m—?" almost as if on cue, in came an angry pom-pom inbound like a squishy freight train.

"hey! what did pom-pom just say?!" they cried. "can’t you follow one simple rule for the time being?"

as pom-pom ushered you away from the archives with weak thumps to the back of your legs, you grunted to yourself. you were tempted to chuck them in the opposite direction, but alas, such a thing was not in the cards for you. after all, it would be wise to not tempt fate with the conductor. things seemed like they were going to be more difficult than you anticipated.

░░░░░░░

early the next morning, long before either march or stelle would rise, you shuffled your way into the parlor car in search of food. if it was going to be anything like yesterday, you were anticipating being the only one in the parlor car. however, to your surprise, there was another person present when you silently closed the door behind you—dan heng. he was in his regular appearance of shorter, fluffy hair and his regular attire. you sighed as quietly as you could, staring at the back of his head that leant on his wrist, propped up on the table. seeing him staring dejectedly at the food was a sorry sight.

the unspoken tradition you had with him was that when the whole express wasn’t eating together, it’d always be you two sharing your meals together. it began when you first joined the express—after dan heng himself, but before march. left adrift as a vagrant amidst the stars, you were all too familiar with the feeling of loneliness. it was always at its worst when you managed to gather together enough scraps to resemble the meals you used to eat in your old home. to you, when possible, meals were something that should be shared in the company of others. so when you first saw dan heng sat alone on your first proper morning aboard, you saw part of yourself in him. a part that you wanted gone, now that you had a new home. so you sat yourself down next to him, your own food in hand. you were met with some minor (albeit polite) resistance, but you being the stubborn ass you were, would not have it. you knew your persistence was risky, but it paid off. not long after that, he would wait until you were sitting with him.

so to see that sight left you saddened, but also vehemently annoyed. normalcy was out the window thanks to this baffling, self-imposed restriction he had against you. as quietly as you could, you stalked up behind him. moving as lightly as possible felt like it was the only way possible to get closer to him. it wasn’t like he developed a sudden allergy to your presence or something, was it?

you were successful in thwarting his pre-occupied senses as you reached the velvet couch. but maybe you were too successful, because he almost leapt out of his skin when you planted yourself down next to him. you leaned against the table and spoke. "how about us talking if it’s over breakfast?"

he did manage to calm down, but not by a lot, and not enough to give you a reply. his expression was still frazzled as he struggled to keep himself in place.

"can you please tell me if i’ve done something wrong? i don’t understand why we’re suddenly like strangers again," you said, reaching out to put your hand atop his one that was clenched at his side. but he snatched it away before you could feel the warmth of it.

"it’s my fault. you’ve done nothing," he said. "but please, i need some time before i can talk to you properly."

he turned to get up and leave, but you caught him by the sleeve. "w-wait, by why?" you trailed off, voiced far weaker than intended.

the look he gave you was weird. it was a jumble of confused emotions, but the most you could make out was nervousness. you had no idea what that light flush could have meant for you. his mouth parted to make some sort of reply, and you could have sworn you the glimpse of sharpened canines. "since when have you had fangs in this appearance?" you blurted out after doing a double take.

his eyes flared wide open and a hand flew over his mouth. "s-since never." with that, he slipped from your grasp. "please excuse me."

you watched incredulously as he walked out of the parlour car and back towards the archives as if he had wooden knees. you had no idea what just happened. rejection, you supposed. but considering how he was that night, it made no sense. nothing about this made any sense.

whatever it was, it was slowly eroding your patience, leaving you biting the inside of your lips in irritation. it’s true you were doing some type of avoidance when his alternate form was finally revealed, but it was nothing of this calibre. it was almost impossible for it to be the case with dan heng, but if this really was some kind of petty revenge, he may as well have whipped out a steel chair after you knocked shoulders with him.

░░░░░░░

your shameful failure of an interaction left you in need of recuperation. you hadn’t felt that irked and downright baffled since one of herta’s curios fell on your head. so now, you were blathering a ranting tirade at stelle and march over some snacks, all in the parlour car. "i swear to whatever aeon’s listening, he’s turned emo or something." you folded your arms across your chest, sinking down in your plush chair.

"like he wasn’t before?" stelle mumbled, not looking up from whatever gacha game she was playing on her phone.

"eh, not really. he does have his moments, though." march shrugged, grabbing a single chip. "but yeah, i’ve never seen anything like this. it’s so weird, he almost never avoids you like this!"

"hence why i’m so confused."

"things seemed to get pretty tense between the two of you after he had his magical girl transformation," stelle added while shovelling a handful of chips into her mouth, still not looking up. "then maybe… the day after phantylia, he got even weirder."

"yeah, like, he won’t go near you for some reason, but he keeps staring at you so longingly and sighing like you’re the last cookie in the jar and he’s been told he can’t have any more!" march said with the melodramatic flourish of a swoon.

"that one sounds like it’s based on real experiences." stelle cast her a sideways glance, to which march let out a sniff and wiped away a dry tear.

"just how much has he been doing that?" you muttered, unable to comprehend.

"a fair amount from what i’ve seen. he’s looked like a kicked puppy every single time," march said. "well, as much as dan heng can look like a kicked puppy."

"not that he’s particularly talkative, but i’ve tried asking him about it. was only met with howling winds of jarilo-vi’s everwinter storm." stelle placed her phone down on the table and sat back with her arms crossed. "but now, he’s just being straight up weird. (y/n), what’d you do to him?"

"yeah, i mean, he won’t even eat in the mornings if you’re there!" march cried.

your nails dug into your knees as you looked at your lap. you could feel a heat creeping onto your face as you recalled him so close to you. his words still rung in your head. if they were true, then what the fuck was he doing now? "i—i don’t really want to say, since it’s between him and i," you said. "but some pretty… significant things happened, i guess."

march suddenly drew in a comically loud gasp. "DID HE FINALLY CONFE—" she began, but you clapped your hand over her mouth before she could finish.

"must’ve," stelle said, leaning forward with her hands on the table loosely clasped in front of her.

"it wasn’t… exactly like that." your voice was low. your attempts to protect your dignity were feeble at best. it’s true, he never explicitly told you he has feelings for you in the classic format of ‘i like you’, but… who were kidding, it was a confession in all forms except literalness. you grabbed at your face, hiding the creeping heat behind your hands with a groan.

"no, it was totally a love confession. he’s been head over heels for you for a while now! even when i first met you two, it was so obvious he had a big ol’ crush on you. how’d you not notice it?!"

"cuz they’re denser than dan heng." stelle deadpanned, staring right at you.

"if you’re going to be making indirect insults about me, at least do it to my face," a familiar voice muttered from somewhere a distance behind you. in walked dan heng, eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. he was once again in his normal appearance. stelle immediately squashed you down beneath the square table, leaving you only to look at everyone’s legs.

"oh, so the elusive dan heng finally graces us with his presence, huh?" you couldn’t see march’s face, but you knew she was making a half-lidded, unimpressed frown at him—the certified march classic.

"i’ve had a lot of information to collate and put into the archives, so i’ve been busy—" his words stopped short. from around the bend of the chair’s edge, you could see him inch closer to the table.

"been busy what? you just stopped talking." march sounded confused.

"is that… (y/n)’s scent?" his tone was far sharper, but his wording sounded unsure.

"are you calling them stinky? that’s kinda rude, isn’t it?" march frowned.

"huh? no, of course not!" he sputtered. "it’s just v-vidyadhara senses. they’re quite acute." there was the shuffling of some fabric. he must have crossed his arms.

"well i say it’s cuz you’re going heehee-silly-delulu with your big fat crush on them." march chimed in. your eyes widened as you frowned. why were they both baiting the literal dragon?

the only sound that came out of dan heng was something like an indignant cry that was cut-off at its head. "i… i do not—"

"you don’t like them? alright, keep telling yourself that," stelle said.

"…what hand does (y/n) have in this? they were just here, weren’t they?" he took a few steps towards the table. you imagined him with a strained look on his face, fighting to keep his composure like he yesterday. as he was stood right in front of you, you felt yourself shrinking back. it was maybe only seconds until ground zero—until everything hit the fan. "because that’s their scent nearby…" he changed his footing just a touch, and the second you saw the tips of his fluffy hair peak down past the table, you launched headlong into him. not by your own volition, but because a heeled boot slammed into your lower back, jetting you forward. your face collided with some part of his legs (of which was not very soft), sending you both in the same direction with simultaneous cries. there was a significant thud when dan heng hit the floor, and your head knocked into something bony.

your eyes cracked open, rubbing your forehead with a groan, but all sounds fell silent when you realized you were hovering between his knees. you stared up at him with wide eyes and a stifled breath, where he met your owlish gaze with his own. in other words, you were almost right between his legs. both of your faces lit like infernos, but neither of you moved. a grand total of two seconds passed before the vidyadhara features came out. it was quick—his horns rose from his head, and his hair spilt over his shoulders. his tail appeared behind him, laying still. even his clothes suddenly swapped out on him. his chest rose and fell as his breath seemed to quicken.

"s-sorry," you swallowed thickly. in almost an instant, he dug one of his clawed hands into his arm. he clambered to his feet, unable to look you in the eye.

"wh-what the hell was that?" his voice cracked.

"fuck, that was my bad." stelle said from behind you.

"ngh, you… please excuse me," he quickly turned and strode back towards the archives, still holding onto his arm. you hadn’t moved from the floor when you watched the passenger cabin’s door close behind him.

"what the heck, stelle?!" march cried, startling you.

"holy fuck, i’m so sorry. i did not think it’d go like that," stelle said. when you looked back over, she was leaning back and had raked her bangs back, hand still on her forehead.

"how did you think it’d go?" you groaned, unsteadily raising to your feet once again.

"i dunno, but not like that."

"why’d he suddenly change like that, i wonder?" march tapped her finger to her chin, looking off to the side.

"cuz he’s down bad." stelle looked very confident in her answer.

you almost choked on your spit.

"he’s down bad, but then he keeps running off 'cuz refuses to let himself be so."

"what kind of a theory is that?!" march huffed.

"a simple observation. mr. yang says i’m perceptive, so i have final authority on all judgements ever made." stelle crossed her arms over her chest, face seldom making any expressions. "and i say exactly what i said."

you stood with your head hanging in your hands, burning with embarrassment. things couldn’t keep going on like this. if this was the new dynamic, then how were any of you supposed to function while you’re out trailblazing? how were any of you supposed to function even just normally? that was it. you raised your head until your eyes lifted from behind your hands, a new resolve filling your blood. maybe jing yuan might know something.

░░░░░░░

managing to secure a time to speak to jing yuan was unbelievably easy. then again, you should gave guessed it’d be. over messages, he told you that since he’s been doing nothing but resting, he’s incredibly bored—someone to see or speak to is more than welcome. and so, it quickly was organized that you could stop by a planned location in aurum alley to see him.

the time soon rolled around, as long as it took. during the day, as expected, there was no sign of dan heng having any interest in interacting with you normally, much to your growing irritation and mild chagrin. even march and stelle were shaking their heads and clicking their tongues in disapproval.

it didn’t take long for you to get there. you agreed to meet him in a small, secluded area, just out of the way of eyes that might seek to pry into the general’s private business. it was a bit into the early evening. it wasn’t too hard to find him sitting at his table since he wasn't exactly the most conspicuous person out there. the golden artificial sunlight poured in from an oblique angle overhead, coating the tucked-away courtyard in a honeyed light. once he saw you approaching, jing yuan cast you one of his usual sleepy, cattish smiles.

"um, hello," you spoke, pulling out a seat next to him.

"and to what do i owe the pleasure?" there was almost a purr in his voice. "tell me, what is it you wished to speak about?" he leaned forward, resting his head on his wrist propped up on the table. "or did you simply come here to chat with me because you felt like it?" he made a closed-eyed smile laced with mischief.

"ah, i’m sorry to disappoint, but it’s because i’m having a bit of a dilemma." you scratched the back of your head with an awkward laugh. "please hear me out on this one, but it’s about dan heng."

"oh, dan heng? what about him?" jing yuan tilted his head. "as it stands, i’m afraid you might know him better than i do, unfortunately. so i don’t know if i would be able to provide the best of help for you." there was a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips, making you bite your own.

"it’s, ah, a little more about him as a vidyadhara, i suppose. i’m not sure if he has anything in common with his previous incarnation, but i thought there must be something there."

"well, i can say his obstinance seems to have certainly survived reincarnation."

"it’s thriving," you huffed, at which jing yuan lightly laughed.

"so is that the root of your problem? him being too stubborn on something?"

"that’s about it, yeah." you pressed your lips into a line. "he’s been avoiding me for… reasons i won’t divulge… and i don’t what i can do to get him to talk to me again."

"you don’t need to put it like that. i can tell he really likes you," he said, the trace of a smug grin on his face. after you coughed loudly, he continued. "he’s rather obvious if you know what you’re looking for. but anyway, what happened between you two? if i’m allowed to know, that is."

you swallowed nervously. should you really be revealing everything like this? you did it anyway. "one night, we said a few things of… i guess questionably romantic nature to each other, and he reacted in a way that i think was influenced by some sort of… vidyadhara shenanigans."

jing yuan looked at you with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. "go on."

"he hauled me off to his bed and then got uncharacteristically affectionate. he had a back-and-forth with self-doubt once he realized i was really confused by it all, but i told him it’s fine. i mean, i even pet his horns out of my own volition and stuff." it was all coming out at this point. "then he eventually drifted off and then pretty much declared his feelings in his half-sleep. but even though i told him i’m fine with him doing whatever he was doing, he still decided to run off the next morning. i’ve tried to talk to him repeatedly, but he won’t reply to my messages and he almost freaks out every time i’m in his vicinity. i don’t get it!"

"mm, that’s quite the situation on your hands there," jing yuan hummed. there was a mischievous spark in his eye, and you weren’t sure if you liked the look of it. "now, i couldn’t tell you the specifics, but if you say he got ’uncharacteristically affectionate’, then that’s definitely some old vidyadhara response. they can get very protective over the things they love."

your gaze dropped somewhere in front of your as your face prickled with heat at his words.

"but now, i’d wager he’s stuck in some sort of self-imposed battle of will against himself."

"and how would you suggest i get him out of it?"

"i suppose there is technically the option of waiting this out," he glanced at your face. you looked embittered at such an inane suggestion, making him laugh. "or you could simply make him lose the battle, since it sounds like he’s set on taking it ad infinitum, if needed."

"small issue… i’m now allowed near the archives," you sighed, leaning yourself back. "it’s hard to simply go there with both the conductor banning me as well as dan heng refusing to open his door."

"hmm…" jing yuan shifted his hand beneath his chin. "might i do something a bit uncouth?"

"uhh, okay."

"come here for a moment." he slid himself next to you, turning to face you a little more. with a slight frown, you turned towards him as well. "now, i can’t guarantee his reaction to this, but—" he suddenly pulled you closer toward him and placed his head in the crook of your neck—the same side dan heng had his. one hand snuck its way around your neck and held the base of your neck ever so gently, while the other looped around your back. you had to fight a shudder when you could feel jing yuan’s lips ghost over your neck and shoulder. "if i do this, it may be enough to knock him from this cycle of his."

"wh-what?" you strained out.

"he’ll be able to tell i’ve been with you. and by the places i’ve been in contact with you…" he said, voice low. his faint breaths were cool on your shoulder. you couldn’t suppress a slight shiver. "…it should be enough to grant you access to… the archives, was it?"

"y-yeah." you blinked a few times. your brain had been reduced to a single cell bouncing around inside your brain like a shitty maraca.

jing yuan finally pulled back, assuming his original pose. "please forgive me for that… but you’ll likely see why i did it." he still couldn’t help but wear his usual small grin for the second part. "i’d now recommend that you find him again, and try to keep his attention long enough for him to notice you were with me. vidyadhara’s senses of smell are perceptive, so it shouldn’t be long. well now, you’d best get back then." his stupid grin was even wider and even smugger. his gaze wasn’t condescending, but read more as if he were thinking just wait and see.

"i… guess i’ll be going then. th-thank you, general." you made an awkward bow as you hustled back the way you came, hyperaware of the air brushing against your shoulder. it all felt incredibly foreboding… but that was to be expected when you were about to enter the dragon’s den.

░░░░░░░

your plan was flawless:

1. jing yuan does his shit

2. go back to the express.

3. bait with bubble tea to get the door open.

4. "talk" to dan heng long enough until he notices jing yuan was up to something

5. ???

6. profit.

just as detailed, to further your chances of getting that door cracked open, you decided to buy a bubble tea. a classic milk should have sufficed, since he tended to favour the more simple things. the chances of him actually opening the door to take it were already slim, but desperate times called for desperate measures. knowing him, he’d simply make you leave it at the door, which was a problem. so there you were, stuck on an express couch, plotting. (or, perhaps more aptly, chewing your nails in nerves). as you sat there, in waddled pom-pom, looking mighty chuffed for some unknown reason.

"hm-hm-hm! dinner of pom-pom’s own creation will be ready in just over 20 minutes!" they declared, puffing their stuffed chest. they waited for any reaction, but no one looked up at them, making them deflate with a scowl. "stelle, (y/n) you go tell everyone," they grumbled, shuffling back into the passenger cart and beyond.

"wait, what?" you looked up—you hadn’t even noticed them.

"we’re on messenger duty," stelle said from her seat. she was placed upside down on the couch, hair grazing the ground while she played her usual gacha games.

"can i try and deal with dan heng?"

"i mean, sure." she looked over at you. "but what’re you plotting?"

"my entry into the archives. i come baring gifts." you motioned towards the untouched bubble tea sitting in front of you.

"i’ll leave you to it. i’ll go tell march and the others then." she chucked her phone elsewhere on the couch and got up, wandering towards the passenger car. you followed shortly behind, offering in hand.

it was a short walk. you knew you were being dramatic, but you couldn’t help but grow more and more nervous the closer you drew to the archives. you had already weathered so many rejections, so it’s not like this was going to somehow have a worse result. perhaps it was because you put too much on this. you’ve gone to a rather large effort just to have a slim chance of getting him to open the door—speaking of, you were already there.

you raised your hand to knock on it, but before you could even lay your hand on it, dan heng spoke from inside. "what is it, (y/n)?" he was once again somewhere further off in the room, speaking with undecipherable emotions.

"um." your voice cracked, making you cringe. "pom-pom said dinner’s ready in 20."

"ah. thank you," he said plainly. it still kinda stung, being back at what felt like the stage where you were only acquaintances.

"i also got you something." you tried to cast another line.

"you can leave it at the door."

you flopped your head against the door. of course he said it. "i’d rather give it to you now. it’s some bubble tea. the ice is melting." there was no response. you couldn’t tell what he was doing. "c’mon, it’s not like you’re sick or something."

"hah, more like lovesick," stelle called as she walked past behind you.

"stelle!" dan heng cried indignantly. he sounded closer to the door. "i am not—"

"if you’re not, then open the door." she simply kept walking.

you were stood with wide, unblinking eyes and an open mouth, watching her jacket pass through the cabin door until you were left alone in the hall. the door suddenly slid open a little. you jumped, turning to stare up at him. as usual, there was a strained look on his face that he was trying to suppress. "see, i’m not—" he looked out and around for stelle, but she was nowhere to be seen. instead, he simply sighed.

you tried to swallow your heart beating in your throat, but it still hammered away. "hi."

he closed his eyes, leaning his head on the inner door frame. "hello," his voice sounded tired. tired with himself. "please forgive me for how i’ve been acting. i know it’s not fair to you. it’s just…"

"i know, you need more time. you like to say it," you muttered with a slight, strained grin. "by the way, here’s your tea. it’s just your usual order." you held it out it to him, and he looked down at it with softened eyes. as he went to grab it, his fingertips brushed over yours. he seemed more startled than you, but after a moment’s hesitation, he placed his hand back over top of yours.

"i haven’t been completely honest with you," he said. (that was certainly one way of putting it).

you held your breath, as if making a single noise could suddenly startle him back into the archives.

"i… since that night, i haven’t known what to do with mysel—" he suddenly paused, frowning the tiniest bit. he leaned forward, seeming to concentrate on something with closed eyes. once they opened again, his pupils had constricted into slits, and he was staring intently at you. uh oh.

"wh-what is it?"

"where were you before this?" he took the tea from you and placed it somewhere next to the door frame inside the archives.

your stomach flipped. was this really going where you thought it was? "um. i was wandering around aurum alley." it wasn't a lie. "why?"

"that’s not all. what else?" he took you by the arm and drew you into the archives. it was an uncharacteristic mess in there. low-lit, and with clothes, books and items were strewn all over the place, perhaps as a reflection of his state. you watched the door close behind you, and when you looked back, there stood dan heng with his full vidyadhara look on display, right in front of you. uh oh.

he stepped closer to you until you could feel the warmth of his body radiating off of him, then grabbing hold of your shoulders. it was a tight grip, but not enough to hurt yet. he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and drew in a long but quiet inhale. "what were you doing with jing yuan?" his voice was low, almost with a slight growl. as he spoke, his arms had wound around shoulders, so he was holding the back of your head, just like jing yuan was. only far harsher than the other’s ghost-like touch.

yes, this was going the direction you thought it was. "we—we only met to talk about something," you sputtered out, your heart in your throat again.

"then why do i smell him on you, as if you were doing something more than just talking?" with a free hand, he took your jaw and turned your face towards him. he was only inches away from you, gazing at you with narrowed, dimly-glowing eyes. "why go to him when you have me?"

you frowned, eyes wide. "huh? what do you mean i have you? you’ve refused to speak to me normally ever since the morning after you hauled me to your bed. besides, i-it’s not what you think."

but your words were lost on him. "no, this won’t do." his voice was barely a murmur. he seemed to be living in his own version of the world. dragon-brain was back, evidently a fuller force than ever. you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t him drawing you even closer, placing his head in the crook of your neck and nuzzling. your face lit like an inferno as some kind of noise escaped your lips. it was really back to the nuzzling. only with surprising fervour, this time. he nestled his face into your neck, exhaling small sighs against you. his nose and lips brushing against your skin was almost ticklish, but you weren’t laughing when his tail snaked itself around your hips, twining itself down one of your legs.

"d-dan heng?!" you cried when he suddenly lifted you with his hands clasped beneath the backs of your thighs, assisted by the tail. he had his mouth placed right over top of your collar bone, watching where he was going from over your shoulder. "dan heng, put me down!" you had to hold onto his back and shoulders for stability.

he gave you no reply, only taking you back to his mussed futon. similar to his bed at the inn, the blanket was strewn in a way akin to the base of a nest. stray pieces of clothing made up the rest of lack-lustre structure—you could have sworn one of your own old shirts you’d forgotten somewhere was poking out from beneath a different article. dan heng sat himself down in the centre of the futon and brought you into lap. your position was a bit awkward as you sat perpendicular across from him. both your legs went one direction while your torso was turned to face him. he sunk his head into the crook of your neck again, drawing in more, shorter inhales.

"seriously, wh—what are you doing?"

"he’s still on you." he said against your shoulder, warmth breath making you shiver. there was a slight growl in his throat again.

"even after that?" as you spoke, he tilted your head away, exposing more of your neck. "hey, w-wai—ah!" you made a cry of pain when a pair of fangs suddenly bit down into your shoulder. it wasn’t hard enough to draw much blood, but more than enough to hurt. you shuddered with some ungodly, almost harrowed noise when his tongue glided over what would blossom into a bruise. his arms and tail wound tighter around you, as if you might slip away at any second. he moved on, this time toward your jaw, peppering it with desperate kisses. you tried to say his name as he trailed down in between his own rapid-growing breaths. he was panting once he reached your shoulder, his kisses sloppy. in some work of miraculous dexterity, he had readjusted your seat on him until his waist was slotted between your legs. all the while, one hand was in your hair angling your head for his best reach, the other around your back. you had to hide your face in his hair when he had began making small vocalizations, something like tiny whines.

you said his name again, this time louder when he trailed his fangs back up your shoulder. right after he left a hot kiss on your shoulder, he bit down again. you seethed in pain, trying to push his head off, but you were only met with purrs. even though he didn’t seem fully aware of what was going on, those purrs had to be weaponized against you. he shifted to another part of your shoulder, mouthing another kiss on it, but before he could bite, you grabbed his horn.

"dan heng!" you yanked his head back, surprising him. but instead of some sort of pained cry, he let out a heady moan. to your surprise, that noise slipping from his mouth seemed to restore his lucidity in an instant. his dilated eyes shot wide open and his hands flew to cover his mouth, almost sending himself backwards in the process. his face burned with embarrassment, colouring his cheeks and pointed ears in a bright crimson. you huffed, but didn’t remove yourself from your position. in fact, you anchored yourself down by locking your ankles behind his back if he were to try and push you off.

"(y/n) to dan heng, can you hear me?" you said, almost tempted to knock on his forehead.

"i-it happened again," his voice was quiet in horror.

"hey, i need you to listen to me before you clam up on me again." you brought one hand to the side of his face, gently making him look up at you. he jumped at the contact, sending his hands further up his face until they were covering his eyes.

"please forgive me," he rushed out.

"look at me," you said softly, placing one hand on top of his to move it to the side—one of his faintly glowing eyes glanced at you. "i’m more happy to make out with you, but we need to talk first."

he made a strangled groan of embarrassment in answer, moving his hand back in place again.

"are you listening?"

he nodded.

"alright, the whole thing with jing yuan was me asking about you," you said. "i thought he might know a bit about you as a vidyadhara and your behaviour, so i went to ask what i could do to get you to let me into the archives. his idea was a less than tactful, but i guess it worked. that’s why ‘his scent was on me’, as you say. he only stuck his head on my shoulder for a bit because you’d be able to tell and then demand an explanation or something."

his fingers had parted to show his eyes again, and they were staring in bewilderment.

"so, i’m sorry for doing all that to you." your voice was soft. "i just wanted to see you."

"no, i should be apologizing. i have no control of myself and i haven’t been fair to you." he lowered his hands to hovering somewhere over his chest. "i was saying before… since that night, i have been an embarrassment. all i’ve wanted to do is steal you away and… smother you in affection until you returned it. the feeling was so intense that i didn’t trust myself around you, so i hid. i thought if i waited, it’d calm down, but it really only made it worse."

your heart swooned then and there, lighting a fire in your cheeks. "o-oh… so if i did return it, then you wouldn’t act like a lovesick ghost anymore?"

"hey." he frowned, but his face soon fell back into the same flustered expression from before. "but to answer you, maybe after a while. i could also just get worse… but i really don’t want to subject you anything you don’t want." while he couldn’t meet your gaze, he still leaned his head into the palm of your hand. with a sigh, you held his jaw and angled his face to look at you again.

"how many times do i have to say i don’t mind? you can’t seem to fit that one through that thick vidyadhara skull of yours." you did actually knock on his head this time, making him wince.

"i—i don’t know, i just get embarrassed." he hid face his face against your chest, face a shade redder and his ears drooping. "you also always look so shocked. i don’t want to do that to you."

"that’s only because you tend to forget any kind of warning," you said with a light laugh. "truly, i like it—when you give me warning, that is—because i really like you too, stupid."

his breath audibly hitched, and he raised his head back up. "t-too? but i’ve never said—"

"are you kidding? you don’t need to say it when the aeons and their grandmas know. even march says it’s obvious. you’re seriously worried about that after you’ve made out with my shoulder sloppy style? by the way, what was with the bites?"

"ngh, don’t word it like that." his tail that was still tangled around you thumped against your back indignantly. "…and the bites are a weird territorial thing. i’m sorry if they hurt." he leaned his head against you, running his thumb over one of the marks.

"dragons…" you sighed with a smile. "you’re lucky you’re so cute." you pet his hair, and he leaned into your touch.

he moved his chin so it was on your collarbone, looking up at you with softened eyes. there were almost stars of reverence in them when he gazed at you. "i love you."

"wait, wha—" you began, but he swallowed the rest of your words when his lips were upon yours. he pressed himself up against you, his hands gently holding the sides of your face. as he kissed you, there was a faint rumbling and vibration coming from his chest—he was purring.

he pulled back again, leaving you a little short of breath and a lot dazed. you’d always thought it’d be you that had to kiss him first, not the other way around. he began to leave another trail of kisses starting from your lips to your jaw, this time leading toward the other side he had already been. your hands fell from their place on him and inched onto his back while his lips were on your neck. one hand slipped into his back window, and he suddenly gasped. his back arched into you, almost knocking you over. he panicked, and his tail constricted behind you like another set of arms to catch you.

"what was that?" you laughed, trying to re-steady yourself.

"your hand was cold. i don’t know, i guess i have a sensitive back," he huffed. his ears were angled down and a flush was heavy on his face. you couldn’t really articulate what it was about him, but you were suddenly overcome with cuteness aggression. you leaned your weight onto him, sending him backwards onto the futon and—perhaps somewhat out of revenge—hovered yourself over top of his hips. he stared up at you with widened eyes and a held breath, frozen and waiting for your next move.

"you said i need to return your affection, didn’t you?"

he swallowed and nodded the tiniest bit.

"so let me have some fun too, my beloved." you placed a hand on his cheek.

"wait, you heard—i actually said that?" it almost looked like steam would start rising from the top of his head at any point.

"heard it loud and clear." you smiled to yourself, leaning down and managing to get your fingertips into his chest window—only for the door to slam wide open.

"hey, it’s dinner! what’re you two even doi—!" march called, leaning her hand on the doorway. you and dan heng leapt off each other, landing on the opposite sides of his futon. march stared in silence for a long while before lolling her head back. "jeez, finally! anyway, can you two wait until after dinner? pom-pom’s ‘bouta blow a gasket waiting for you two."

"w-we’ll be there in a minute," you said, trying to readjust your collar to try and hide dan heng’s bite marks.

"don’t be long!" march said as she strode back off down the hallway. a couple beats passed and you looked over at dan heng. by some miracle, he’d managed to swap himself back to his human look, but he still looked disheveled as he went to stand back up.

he held a hand out to you and pulled you up, pausing for a moment. he glanced at the bite marks on your shoulder that still peaked out, made some sort of strained sound and then removed his coat. "they don’t need to see that," he said as he strung it around your shoulders, fixing the collar so it hid the marks from sight.

"i’m wearing your coat. march saw us before. if she learns something, it’s guaranteed to be said," you deadpanned. "they’ll know."

instead of giving you a direct response, he took your hand in his and lead you out of the archives, looking at you with what was probably meant to be a neutral expression. his light flush and knitted eyebrows betrayed him though. "can we at least pretend we have dignity?"

"i mean, sure, but it’s not gonna do anything, looking the way we do. now c’mon, don’t wanna keep the conductor waiting." you walked off with him in tow.

he only made a small groan in response again.

#sorry for the random jerma joke at the beginning #it's a moral obligation for me #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae x reader

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felassan · 6 months

Text

Article: 'Laid-Off Dragon Age Testers Will Picket BioWare'

Unionized ex-Keywords devs won the right to protest, against EA's wishes

Excerpt:

"Former quality assurance testers who worked on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf are preparing to picket outside Bioware’s Edmonton offices after being laid off earlier this year. Electronic Arts tried to block the protest but the developers prevailed in a ruling by the Alberta Labour Relations Board in Canada. BioWare laid off 50 employees in August, including some longtime developers whose tenure goes back to the beginning of the Dragon Age series. It also cut its contract with Keywords Studios, which was supplying quality assurance testers on in-development sequel Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. Those same testers had unionized just a year earlier. Last month, they were laid off from Keywords as well, with the outsourcing company blaming it on the loss of the BioWare contract. Now, as first reported by Game Developer, those former Dragon Age testers say they’re planning to picket outside BioWare’s office on November 7 around noon. They are demanding that Keywords reinstate them and continuing bargaining their first contract, calling the layoffs earlier this year a “union busting tactic.” But Keywords doesn’t have any offices in Alberta so they are going to BioWare instead. EA was apparently far from happy about the decision. The publisher tried to force the laid-off developers to take their protest elsewhere, noting that, as fully remote staff, they never technically worked inside BioWare’s Edmonton office. Instead, EA tried to convince the Alberta Labour Relations Board to make them picket outside their homes. The regulators were unmoved, ultimately siding with the workers. “We view this Labor Board ruling as a huge win for not just us, but remote workers everywhere in Canada,” former Keywords tester James Russwurm told Game Developer. “Workers can now go ‘oh, I can picket my employer’s offices downtown even though I didn’t work in the office.’” The ex-testers had been contracted to work at BioWare beginning during the pandemic, first on Mass Effect Legendary Edition and later on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. When BioWare moved to force staff back into the office, the group successfully unionized to try and keep their remote status and improve pay. The Keywords developers were laid off before they could finish bargaining their first contract. EA said at the time that it had previously renewed its contract with Keywords and not doing so in September had nothing to do with the group unionizing. But the publisher has never made clear why it cut staff on a highly anticipated game like Dreadwolf that is still deep in development following several reported internal delays. EA and BioWare did not immediately respond to a request for comment."

[source] [the referenced Game Developer article] [more on the Keywords topic]

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #mass effect #video games #longpost #long post #covid mention #reposted with fixed links sry!

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sweetdreamlandstuff · 2 years

Text

Catching them masturbating - Haikyu

NSFW / Minors don't interact / 18+

Pairing: Female reader x timeskip Osamu / Kuroo / Kenma

Sequel to this series :)

Warnings: Male masturbation, fantasies about sex, handjob, mutual masturbation, female masturbation, fingering, slight exhibitionism

Notes: One sweet anon requested this, so here we are <3 Hope you all enjoy! Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! :)

Osamu Miya

“You don’t have to. I don’t want to bother-,”

“You don’t bother me, don’t worry,” he reassures you. “Just sit down, I’ll quickly make you something.” Osamu’s grey eyes look into yours warmly, a lopsided smirk on his lips. “The usual?”

You nod, happily sitting down on the counter. The shop is vacant, except for you and him. You watch him work, his hands efficiently forming the onigiri as you two fall into harmless small talk.

Normally, Osamu wouldn’t make such an exception. But how could he refuse you, his favorite customer? You stepped in, clearly past the closing time, hungry. Whom would he be to not grant you your wish?

He loves to watch you eat, your dainty hands holding something he made so preciously. The way your lips wrap around the food and the appreciative hum vibrating in your chest never fails to warm his heart.

He has to admit that he likes this exception he made for you. Now he can observe you from up close and he has all the time to let his gaze wander back to you, again and again.

His heart races in his chest, his hungry eyes wandering over your features. You’re stunning, even - or maybe especially - with your full cheeks and content expression.

“As delicious as always,” you beam at him and he swears his heartbeat falters for a moment.

Osamu has to resist the urge to collect the stray rice corn from your chin. He isn’t really sure how he lives through the next few minutes. His lust is continually increasing, making it harder and harder for him to talk with you.

A part of him even feels happy when you finally walk out of the door, after thanking him effusively. His eyes follow your retreating silhouette.

He lets out a deep sigh once the door falls shut. Shamefully, he lowers his head, seeing his hard dick straining even under his apron. He loses the apron and swallows hard. He’s unable to comprehend how you can have such an influence on him. He feels guilty at how reverently he desires you. He nearly feels insane.

Osamu moves, sitting down at the place you were sitting mere seconds ago. And he can’t help thinking about you. About your beautiful figure, your ass, your waist. About your lips and your soft voice. He buries his face in his hands, hopelessly trying to ignore the throbbing of his dick.

But he can’t. He weakly opens his pants, tugging down his boxers, before he frees his cock. Shallowly he starts to please himself, his hand moving up and down his length. A bead of precum spills from his tip, easing the glide of his movement.

He watches his hand, imagining that it is yours wrapped so tightly around him. A low sigh falls from his lips before he increases the pace. His breath turns heavier, his chest rising with his hurried pants.

He doesn’t hear you, not the door opening, not your steps he is able to distinguish from all his other customers.

You approach him unsuspecting, his back turned to you.

“Hey sorry I forgot my phone,” you utter.

Osamu flinches. Shit. This can’t be true. He’s frozen in shock, helplessly watching your expression change in slow-motion. You’re standing right next to him now, catching him red-handed, his hand still wrapped around his dick. Your eyes dart from his dick back to his eyes.

You two just stare at each other like this, both unable to do anything. You’re awfully quiet. Osamu awkwardly gets up and pulls up his pants and you just watch him doing so.

“I just wanted to get my phone,” you mumble sheepishly.

Osamu curses himself internally, how dumb could he be? Your phone is on the counter right next to him, clearly in his field of vision. He doesn’t answer you. He turns his back to you, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t want to uhm disturb you,” you whisper ruefully, a slight frown on your face, as you watch his back turned to you.

He still hasn’t uttered a word. You outstretch your hand, softly placing it between his shoulder blades. You feel his muscles hardening under your touch. His shoulders slump a little bit.

“Is everything okay?” You try carefully.

“I’m so ashamed. I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

You swallow hard. “Can I help you somehow?”

“I wouldn’t know how,” he mutters, a humorless chuckle falling from his lips.

“I mean, I could…” you trail off. The tone of your voice is what makes him turn finally.

The shame and sorrow reflecting in his eyes overwhelm you.

“Let me help you,” you breathe.

He furrows his brows, nodding in confusion.

A gasp leaves his mouth as you swiftly tug down his pants and boxers.

“Don’t be ashamed,” you usher as you take his hard cock in your hand.

You slowly move your hand up and down his sloppy dick, holding your eyes to his. His half-lidded eyes fix on your delicate hand wrapped around his girth and he can’t believe that this image is reality. His eyes dart up, gazing into your prying eyes.

“Have you thought about this?” You ask your voice barely above a whisper. You don’t need to hear his answer, the twitch of his cock indication enough.

Osamu’s gaze fixes on your lips, watching them form another question.

“Have you thought about me?”

He swallows hard, a low sigh dropping from his parted mouth. “Yes,” he confesses weakly.

His answer seems to please you, your eyes glinting feverishly.

You increase the pace. His precum eases the glide of your eager hand as you jerk into his flushed tip. His hand grabs the counter next to him, holding onto it dearly.

“You look good like this,” you compliment him. He smiles weakly, a low moan ripping past his chest. You watch him; his chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing, his half-lidded eyes fixed on your face and the blush on his cheeks.

“Feels so good,” he breathes, his brows slightly furrowing. He watches your hand dragging along the length of his cock.

You smile up at him, keeping your rhythm, working him closer to his impending orgasm. Your fist squeezes his cock a little tighter, pumping just a little faster. His knuckles whiten as he holds onto the counter more forcefully.

You swallow hard when you notice that his thighs start to shake slightly. A deep groan manages to fall from his lips. Osamu clenches his jaw, his skin flushing red.

“Fuck ‘m gonna cum,” he nearly whimpers, a little bit embarrassed at how quickly you managed to get him to.

“You wanna cum for me?” You ask breathlessly.

“Yes, yes,” he breathes. And he does.

You watch him as he falls apart. His eyes roll to the back of his head and his hips helplessly jerk forward into your fist. His hot cum shoots out of him, coating your hand white. You work him through it, moving your hand shallowly as he rides out his high. You let go of him once he slightly whines from the overstimulation.

You chuckle lightly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “Do you treat every customer like this?”

He chuckles breathlessly, his hungry eyes fixing on yours, “Only my favorite.”

Tetsurou Kuroo

Kuroo thinks that he has gotten used to it, that he’s gotten used to you. But this couldn’t be further from the truth, he realizes as he observes you standing right next to him.

You’re alone in the break room with him, one hand wrapped around your cup the other swirling through the air as you ramble on about your weekend. Kuroo desperately tries to listen to what you’re saying, but it is just so hard for him to concentrate. He just can’t seem to focus on your words; only listening to your soft voice and ringing laughter.

The little room fills up with your scent and you’re just so close to him. Kuroo gulps, nodding his head along to show that he is listening. He tries his best to keep his eyes from darting down to your plush lips. But he fails, his dark eyes watching your tongue drag along your bottom lip before they curl into a soft smile. It’s quiet suddenly.

Kuroo perks up, his eyes locking with yours. You glance at him.

“Are you okay with that?” You ask, slight confusion in your voice. Shit. Did you notice that he wasn’t listening? Kuroo panics.

“Yeah sure, of course,” he sputters.

“Perfect,” you beam at him.

Well, that must’ve been the right answer. “See you later,” he bows out.

Kuroo quickly makes his way to his office. He flings himself into his chair before he lets out a deep sigh. He should really get his act together.

His heart is racing in his chest, his face hot and this unendurable lust cursing through his body. He’s completely riled up. Sadly he knows, if he won’t release this energy now, he won’t be able to work.

His hand drags along his dick straining against his trousers before he tugs down his pants. He hurriedly takes his throbbing cock into his hand, leaning further back into the chair as he closes his eyes. Naturally, your face appears in his mind. He remembers your bright eyes looking up at him just now and your lips. Oh, your sweet, soft lips.

He succumbs to his fantasies, slowly dragging his fist up and down his throbbing dick. He thinks about you, about your lips wrapped around his cock, watching him through hazy eyes. Kuroo slightly increases his pace, trying his best to stop a groan from falling from his parted lips.

Then he hears the knock on his door. He freezes, holding his breath expectantly. He’s sure he isn’t expecting anyone today. Before he has the chance to utter anything, a no, a hold on, a wait, the door flings open.

He doesn’t even have the time to tug his cock back into his pants. Kuroo just sits there, his eyes growing wide as he sees you appearing in his office. He quickly tries to cover up somehow.

“Hey, so I have the -” Your unfinished sentence hangs in the air, as your gaze finds him. Your eyes flicker down to his hand wrapped around his dick and Kuroo helplessly watches them grow big at the sight of it.

Your mouth falls open, as your eyes dart back up to his face, locking eyes with him. The silence encapsulating you two for a few seconds is deafening.

“Oh my god. I- I’m - fuck,” you stutter, quickly averting your eyes from him. You look down at the floor. Is this really happening? Kuroo wants to die from the embarrassment. He awakes from his state of shock, quickly closing his pants, and standing up to approach you.

His heart nearly breaks when you lift your head, seeing the look of bewilderment on your face. Your name falls from his lips, softly.

“I’m so sorry,” he tries, his voice almost breaking. You still avoid his eyes, peering at the shut door next to you.

Kuroo has felt a lot of regret in his life but this is nearly the worst. He should’ve listened more carefully to what you were saying. Then maybe he would have gathered that this was intended; for you to appear in his office. Then he could’ve avoided you storming into his office, catching him in this compromising situation.

“Why did you even agree to this? Why didn’t you just say no earlier?” You ask perplexedly. You finally meet his gaze, and the pain in your eyes nearly breaks him. “Did you intend to do this?”

“No, never, I swear,” he mumbles, moving closer to you. You turn your head away from him, swallowing hard.

His hand shakes slightly as he cradles your face carefully, turning your head to face him. You comply without resistance, your glistening eyes finding his.

“This is so unprofessional and wrong. I’m deeply sorry. I don’t know if I can… I-“ he doesn’t even know how to make you believe how embarrassed and ashamed he feels. The words to accurately express his feeling need to be created first.

Your brows furrow slightly. “Did you do this.. because of- because of me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. The innocence and vulnerability reflected in your eyes make his heart beat impossibly faster.

“Would this make it better or worse?” He whispers, his cheeks flushing profusely.

Kuroo doesn’t believe his eyes when your lips, those plush, soft lips of yours, those same lips traveling through his mind almost every day, curl into a small smile.

“Is this a yes?” You breathe and your voice laced with hope makes his heart melt.

Kuroo swallows hard. “Yes, this is all because of you,” he admits, watching the effect his confession has on you. Your eyes grow even wider, your mouth opening just to close again. Your gaze darts down from his eyes to his lips, only for a second before your gaze finds him again.

“I want to…,” he starts before he clears his throat. “Would you let me kiss you?”

“Yes,” you breathe instantly, your breath faintly fanning over his lips.

Kuroo closes the distance, his lips impatiently pressing onto yours. The kiss is soft, his hand cradles your face, angling you to deepen the kiss. His other hand is snaking across your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your lips are softer than he imagined, moving against his as if they were made for this, made for him.

He doesn’t know how long you two stay kissing like this until he pulls away. Kuroo lets out a breathy laugh as his gaze trails over your features. He sees your half-lidded eyes sparkling brighter than he has ever seen. You both smile at each other, lips bruised and cheeks flushed.

He presses a kiss onto your cheek and then moves lower. His lips trail along your jawline, and a low “I’m sorry,” drops from his lips.

“Sorry,” he breathes into your skin, between his feathery kisses until the word loses its meaning. His fingers dance across your body, grabbing and smoothing over your silhouette, carrying the message across your skin.

You melt in his hands, your skin burning where his lips and hands touched you. Willingly you follow him as he guides you toward his desk.

His dark eyes are fixed on yours before they dart lower. He watches his thumb swiping across your bottom lip, slowly coaxing your mouth open.

“I want you to feel better,” he mumbles, his voice taut.

His hand slowly moves lower, along your neck until his hand cups your breast through your blouse.

“Let me touch you, okay?” He almost pleads.

You nod, your mouth so dry, unable to utter a word.

His hands move lower, slowly hiking up your skirt to reveal your panties to him. He gasps lowly when he sees the stockings adorning your thighs. He feels his dick twitching in his pants at the sight of it, nearly making him lose his mind. He swallows hard before he drags his finger playfully along your clothed pussy.

He watches your expression change, observing the darkening of your eyes and the way your mouth falls open. Kuroo tugs your panties to the side before he lets his slender fingers ghost along your folds. He swallows when he feels how wet you are. He briefly dips his finger into your pussy, making a mess of the slick gathering before he slowly circles your clit.

His eyes lock with yours. “You’re gonna have to be quiet,” he declares although he would love nothing more than hear all the sounds he could elicit from you. He may be reckless, but having loud sex in his office - he’s not that daring. That’ll be for another time.

“Yes, yes,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

But what first seemed to be easy turns out to be harder than expected.

You gasp once Kuroo sinks his finger into you. He slowly thrusts it inside of you, adding a second finger to his efforts, while his thumb stimulates your clit.

His slippery fingers curl so deliciously inside of you, stimulating that sweet spot deep within. You gasp quietly. Your hands find purchase on the desk. You do your best to stay quiet but still, your panting hard and you can hear the squelching sound of your dripping pussy filling up the office.

You’re almost embarrassed at how wet you are. “I’m making a mess,” you whisper shackingly, your chest burning in embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing so good,” he mutters, almost sounding proud.

Kuroo ignores the pulsing need of his cock, slightly increasing the thrust of his fingers. He observes your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head, a delicious moan managing to slip past your parted lips.

He lowers his gaze, his eyes fixing on his fingers disappearing in your slick pussy again and again. He works you to your orgasm thoroughly, until he has your whole body trembling underneath him.

You whimper aloud and the sound travels straight to his cock. “Quiet, quiet,” he reminds you, although he yearns to hear that sound drop from your lips again.

“Let me see you come,” he mumbles and you do. His voice, needy and hoarse, sends you over the edge.

You cum, your mouth opened in a silent scream as your pussy clamps down on his fingers. Kuroo holds onto you, his hand angling your face up so he can watch your expression. He’s unable to look away, drinking in your features distorted by pleasure. “So pretty,” he praises you as he guides you through the waves crashing over you.

Your hazy eyes flutter open, taking a second before fixing on his. He sucks in a little breath, the way you look so drunk and pliant simply because of him.

He slips his fingers out of you, watching a string of your arousal break between them. You hold your eyes to his as he coaxes your mouth open. You suck on his fingers, your delirious moan muffled as you taste your arousal. You let your tongue swirl around his fingertips before you let go of them with a loud pop. Kuroo grins down at you, a breathless chuckle dropping from his lips.

You nervously look towards the door, suddenly becoming aware of what you’ve just done in his office. “Maybe we should stop now,” you mumble, unconvincingly.

“I can’t let you go like this,” he mumbles, his gaze fixing on your soaking folds and your stockings. “I’m not done apologizing.”

Kenma Kozume

You happily blabber on about your day, talking about the fun things you’ve done today. Kenma only hums here and there. You stop talking when you can’t recall the last time he made a sound.

“Are you listening?” You query.

“Yes, keep talking,” he answers after a few seconds.

You frown slightly, picking up where you left off. But now you listen more carefully, hearing his breathing getting heavier, his words and hums getting sparser and sparser. You notice his avatar moving weirdly on the screen - or rather not moving at all.

“Kenma?” You ask, wondering what’s wrong.

“Yes?” He answers, his voice a little bit hoarse.

Your heart flutters in your chest, your cheeks burning as your mind races. He couldn’t be… No, he wouldn’t… would he?

“What are you doing?” You ask carefully, sucking in a little breath.

It takes a few seconds before he answers.

His voice is taut and a little breathless. “Gaming with you,” he murmurs.

You frown, pretty confident that he’s lying.

“Tell me the truth,” you demand, anticipation making itself apparent.

Kenma swallows hard, a few seconds passing before he lets out a deep sigh.

“Are you- are you touching yourself?” You ask, voice barely audible.

You think he’s about to log off, the silence stretching for a few seconds feels like hours to you. Seemingly, he carefully weighs his options.

“What if I am?” He counters.

You gulp. Your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask curiously.

His answer comes promptly, without hesitation, “About you.”

You expected this answer. Still, it makes your head spin. Warmth ignites in your stomach as you envision him, his hand wrapped around his dick, his hair hanging messily in his face.

“What exactly?” You ask breathlessly.

He’s silent again.

“I want to know,” you add eagerly.

“You… your lips, your tits, your thighs, your ass, everything.” He answers honestly, his voice noticeably strained.

You only hum, letting your hands roam down your body.

“I like to hear you”, he continues, “your breathing and little laughs and your sighs, gasps, moans,” he mumbles.

“Is that so?” You ask breathlessly, your hand sneaking past the confinement of your shorts and panties. You quietly gasp as you let your finger collect your wetness.

“Yeah, let me hear you,” he pleads.

You throw your head back, slowly dipping your finger inside your pussy. You’re surprised at how wet you already are. You slather your wetness over your clit, drawing slow circles. A low moan escapes your mouth, dropping right onto Kenma’s awaiting ears.

“Are you touching yourself?” He inquires, his voice laced with hope.

“Yes,” you mumble meekly.

He quietly groans in response. “Are you wet?” He inquires.

You quietly whimper in response, your face burning in embarrassment.

“I bet you’re dripping all over your fingers, aren’t you?” He continues, enthralled by the sounds you make. He needs more of you.

Your face burns, a louder moan ripping past your chest as you increase your pace.

“Fuck, I-,” a deep groan disrupts his sentence, “you sound so beautiful,” he mutters feverishly.

You let your moans fall freely now, hypnotized by every word that drops from Kenma’s mouth. You can hear his heavy breath and his low groans as he pleasures himself.

“Are you close?” You inquire, the thought of him cumming makes your pussy clench around nothing.

He hums a yes, and you can almost feel it vibrating in your chest.

“Make some noise for me,” he demands relentlessly, his voice almost breaking.

He doesn’t have to tell you - you let your sounds of pleasure fall freely onto his awaiting ears, urging him closer and closer to his impending orgasm.

“I want to cum with you,” you mutter weakly. Kenma gasps. Dirty words out of your mouth sound just like poetry. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over this.

“Cum for me, make a mess for me,” he commands, his voice dripping with lust. And you do - oh you do. You finally tip over the edge, your pussy spasming around your fingers as warm honey courses through your veins. You moan and whimper desperately. The sounds travel straight to his cock, making it twitch in his hand.

The waves crush over you as you listen to Kenma, to his deep groans, to the low moan ripping past his chest, as he urges himself closer to his impending orgasm.

You whimper his name deliriously as your slippery fingers softy circle your puffy clit. The sound of his name falling from your lips pushes him over the edge.

A choked groan drops right on your ears. Kenma cums, hard. His thighs tremble, his fist hurriedly pumping into his flushed tip as his cum paints his hand white. He rides out his high, palming his sloppy dick as he listens to your soft pants.

“Fuck,” he mutters in disbelief. “I need to see you next time,” he mumbles wistfully.

©sweetdreamlandstuff

#haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #haikyu fanfiction #haikyu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #osamu smut #osamu x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #kenma smut #kenma x reader #osamu x you #kuroo x you #kenma x you #haikyuu x reader

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pandorxxx · 1 year

Text

Double-Trouble (“both…”sequel)

Neteyam (19) x Metkayina fem reader (18) x Lo’ak (18)

Tags: @liyahsocorro

[This has been highly requested by a lot of you, and I hope you guys like it🫶🏽]

Read part 1 here:

🔞minors do not interact🔞

Warnings: SMUT THE HOUSE, p in v, oral, pinning, praise kink, squirting, CNC, threesome.

You woke up the next morning, back in your bed. You slowly sat up, wincing at the sharp pain between your legs. Your throat was soar, and you were fucking exhausted. You scoot to the edge of your bed, and lean your head down into your lap, as your head was pounding. Even with all the pain, you thanked eywa for answering your prayers. You couldn’t believe what happened yesterday.

You sat on the side of the bed, smiling at the memories from last night. You had never felt so alive before. You secretly wouldn’t mind if it happened again, but you knew that it would be too much for you to handle. You stand up slowly, ready to start the day. You put on your best cloths, just in case you saw them. Your hair was loose and wavy, flowing with the slightest blow of wind.

You walk out of your hut, still sore as hell from what Lo’ak and Neteyam did to you last night. You walk towards the clans meeting area where breakfast was being served. You walk over and grab some fruits before finding tsireya, sitting down in-front of her. She watched you wince as you attempted to sit.

“What the hell happened to you?” She asks looking at you, concerned.

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” You explain as you take a bite of your fruit. She hit you on your breast, causing you to shield them.

“Ouch what the fuck, tsireya!” You shout as you slap her arm. She laughed and took a bite of her fruit.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” She asks again, glaring at you. You look around to make sure that no one is listening, and you lean in really close to her.

“Me, Lo’ak, and Neteyam….in the forest.” You whisper to her, and her jaw dropped to the ground.

“No fucking way….you little slut!!!!” She squints, pointing at you with a grin plastered across her face.

“Yes, way!! Lo’ak dragged me into the forest with him and Neteyam. The rest is history.” You grin as you take another bite of your fruit. Tsireya leans in, and looks you up and down.

“How did they have you?” She asked you, intrigued by the conversation.

“Lo’ak in the back, Neteyam in the front.” You laugh as you set your plate down next to you.

“You had an eventful night, huh? Shame on you, girl!!!” She snapped at you playfully, causing you two to laugh loudly. Your laughter is interrupted when you see Lo’ak and Neteyam walking towards you and tsireya. You grab tsireyas arm tightly.

“They’re coming this way, act natural.” You whisper, and she nods in agreement. The boys reach the two of you, and they sit on either sides of you. Neteyam on the left, Lo’ak on the right.

“Hey y’all” tsireya says with a sarcastic smile.

“Hey, tsireya” they say in unison with smiles before they start eating.

You hung your head nervously, not saying a word. You were more nervous than you thought you’d be. You start fiddling with your hands, as beads of sweat start forming on your forehead. Your heart was pounding out of your chest before the silence was broke.

“Hey y/n” Neteyam looks at you with a seductive grin.

“Wassup, y/n?” Lo’ak asked as he ate his fruit slowly, staring at you. Your heart fluttered at the way they were staring into your soul.

“H- hey guys.” You smile at the ground, nervously. Neteyam reaches around to lightly trace your spine with his finger tips, as lo’ak was palming your thigh, both still eating their fruit.

“Umm it’s been so fun chatting with you guys, but I gotta go.” Tsireya says standing to her feet. You frantically shake your head at her, signaling for her to stay, but she just chuckled and walked off.

You let out a loud sigh before trying to get up. To your suprise, lo’ak was holding your arm to keep you still.

“Woahhh, where do you think you’re going, babygirl?” He whispers in your ear, before kissing the lobe.

“Yeah, why are you trying to leave? I see you got all dressed up for us.” Neteyam says while rubbing your thigh, sending chills through your body. You manage to pull away and shift to where you are sitting in-front of both boys. You sigh before speaking.

“Listen, I had fun last night, truly I did, but we cant do this anymore. It’s too much for me.” You explain as you look between the two boys. They both glare at you as if they wanted to eat you up right then and there. You roll your eyes before speaking again.

“I am not playing, we CANNOT do that anymore. It was great, trust me, but this is not a thing. Do you understand?” You ask as they look at each other, grin, and then slowly look back at you.

“Yeah we understand…” lo’ak says as he grinned at you, tracing your body with his eyes.

“It won’t happen again, y/n.” Neteyam says as he looked at you through lidded eyes. Realizing that they aren’t even listening to you, you sigh and roll your eyes once more. You swiftly stand to your feet, frowning down at them.

“Forget I ever said anything!” You shout as you flip your hair over your shoulder. You walk past Neteyam, as he sends a hard smack to your ass. Lo’ak laughs at his brothers actions as he looks up at you.

“You sure you want us to forget?” Neteyam asks staring up at you

“YES!” You shout, stomping off from the two boys.

The day was coming to an end as you made your way back to your hut. You took your weapons off, and laid them to the side. You put your long hair into a ponytail, and took your jewelry off. You go to sit down on your cot as you let out a loud sigh.

You thought about your encounter with the boys earlier. How it secretly turned you on. How you secretly wished they would pin you down, and take you again. However, you couldn’t deny that it frightened you. Your dainty figure at the hands of 2 giant men? At the mercy of 2 brothers? It was a recipe for disaster. Just as you were going to lay down, you heard a familiar voice outside of your hut.

“Y/nnnnnn” you hear your name being hummed seductively, making your ears perk up. Before you could stand up, you see two familiar silhouettes. Neteyam and Lo’ak walk into the hut, leaning against the wall. Nearly traumatized from last night, you scoot back on the cot whimpering.

The only reason you were scared was because it was both of them. You could take one, but two? Giving you pleasure at the same time? It was too much.

Neteyam turns around to close the makeshift door behind him. He turns back around to look at you as his head laid back on the wall, next to lo’aks, as they looked down at you.

“Hey, y/n…” Neteyam says as he palms his throbbing cock through his loincloth.

“How are you doing tonight, y/n?” Lo’ak asks as he walks closer to you. You start backing up until you hit the wall behind your cot.

Lo’ak throws his hands up to surrender, as he stops in his tracks. “We’re not gonna hurt you, y/n. We just wanna make you feel good. Right nete?” He smirks as he looks back at Neteyam, who’s head is still laying against the wall, with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, what he said.” Neteyam says as he kicks off of the wall, walking up to where lo’ak was.

“Please, Don’t do this to me. I’m tired, I just wanna go to sleep.” You plead with them, almost in tears. Neteyam turns to Lo’ak, and they both laugh. Lo’ak starts walking closer to you again, as he bit his lip.

“Well let us put you to bed then.” Lo’ak says before darting over to you, Neteyam following.

Lo’ak grabs your arms, and holds them over your head from behind the cot. Neteyam hops on the cot, hovering over your squirming body.

“pleaseeeee!” You whine, as tears fall down your face.

Neteyam leans down to your ear, as he grips your waist.

“In about 5 minutes, you’ll be begging me not to stop. So just shut the fuck up and take it.” He whispers through gritted teeth before sitting up in between your legs.

Lo’ak was still hold your arms, behind you, making it so you wouldn’t be able to fight back.

Neteyam looks behind you, toward lo’ak. “Hold her tight.” he commands lo’ak.

“I got her bro, just hurry up so I can get a turn.” he laughs as he looks down at you. You cry at that response, as you try to get out of his grasp, to no avail.

Neteyam starts to pull your loincloth down, making you scream, and thrust up to get him off of you. He grew frustrated as he grabbed your neck, squeezing it tightly, causing you to gasp for air.

“Stop acting like you don’t want this! You came so hard yesterday, and I’m going to make you cum harder tonight, whether you like it or not. Now, this is your final warning to stop fighting us.” Neteyam explains pointing at you, before letting you go.

He begins pulling your loincloth down again, and you shut your eyes tightly. He spreads your legs gently, revealing your soaking wet cunt. He smirked before looking at you.

“You’re soaking wet… and you’re telling me that you don’t want this?” He asked before kissing your stomach, sliding all the way down to your cunt. He kisses your clit causing you to throw your head back at the feeling. He finally starts attacking your throbbing cunt, looking up at your squirming body. You look down, meeting his gaze. The eye contact sent you spiraling as you starts to moan under his touch. You gripped lo’aks arm as he is still holding you back.

“Shhh, you’re okay.” Lo’ak reassures you as he looks down at you. Neteyam started sucking your clit causing you to cry out.

“Mmmm fuckkk!” you shout as you thrust up into neteyam mouth. He looks up at you, smirking.

“Do you still want me to stop? Hmm?” He hummed into your cunt, causing your eyes to roll back. You tried to back away, as the pleasure was too much, but lo’ak pushed you back down.

“No,no you gotta take it, baby.” Lo’ak says to you, gripping your arms tighter.

Neteyam flicks your clit with his tongue harshly, making tears fall down your face. You felt a familiar knot in your stomach as you squirm under him.

“I’m fucking cumming!!!” You cry under his touch, as you start shaking, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You squirt all over Neteyams face as you scream in pleasure.

“Shittt, y/n” lo’ak says with wide eyes, as he watches the scene unfold.

You twitch as Neteyam is still sucking on your sensitive clit. He finally pulls away and sits up, wiping his face off with your loincloth.

“you can let her go, she’s too tired to fight back now.” Neteyam tells lo’ak as he finally lets you go.

You try to steady your breathing, as you come down from your high. Neteyam stares at your overstimulated body as he gets off of the cot. Lo’ak pulls you up to sit on his lap, facing him. You immediately fall into his arms, as a wave of exhaustion washed over you.

“Y/nnnn, wake up baby, we’re not done yet.” Lo’ak says as he pats your back, while you’re head lays on his shoulder. He lifts you up with one hand as he uses the other one to take his loincloth off. His cock springs out, hitting your chest, causing you to wake up alittle bit. You sit up, looking at lo’aks cock between the two of you. You smile weakly at his length and then at him, making him chuckle at your reaction. Neteyam was behind you, jerking his cock at the way you straddled his brother. Neteyam and lo’ak look at each other, and then lo’ak nods, looking back at you.

“We’re gonna do something a little different tonight, ok baby?” He says with a soft tone. You look at him with low eyes, and nod with your bottom lip between your teeth. Lo’ak slowly lifts you off of him, placing you on the cot. Neteyam sits on the cot, and rubs your shoulder, before laying flat. He grabs your small frame, and places you onto him, backwards [reverse cowgirl, period🫶🏽]. Lo’ak hops on the cot, standing in-front of you, looking down. He grabs your neck lightly, pulling you closer, as your head hangs back in his grasp.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this, y/n.” he smirks at you as he grips the back of your head. Neteyam lifts you up alittle, lining his cock up with your throbbing cunt. Lo’ak shifts his eye contact to Neteyam.

“Same time, bro?” Lo’ak asks his brother with a light chuckle.

“You know it.” Neteyam answers as he smacks your ass, causing you to moan alittle.

“ 1, 2, 3!” And just like last time, they both plunge into you. You moan on lo’aks cock as you feel Neteyam slide into you with ease.

“Fuck, don’t do that yet…your gonna make me fucking cum.” Lo’ak grunts through heavy breaths as he watches you choke on his cock. He pushes you down further on it, and you begin to gag before he finally starts thrusting into your mouth. You place your hands on Neteyam’s knees as you feel him thrust into you with aggressive force. Your eyes roll back at the feeling. He throws his head back as you clench around him, already feeling your high coming.

“Ohhh my fucking god! You feel so fucking good y/n!” Neteyam says with his jaw dropped, eyes rolling to the back of his head. He grips your hips tighter to steady you as he thrusts into you at a faster pace. This single move sends you over the edge, as you let out a soft moan on lo’aks cock.

“Shittt, you’re taking me so fucking well, y/n…” lo’ak moans as his jaw drops, throwing his head back at the sensation, thrusting deep down your throat. You grab lo’ak by the back of the knee for leverage as you bobbed your head up and down on him, staring into his eyes. Lo’ak was shocked at how comfortable you became. He smiles down at you, rubbing your head.

“Yesss, keep fucking look at me. I’m gonna cum so deep down your throat.” Lo’ak says as he watches you go to work on him. He felt his high slowly starting to approach him as he moaned loudly, throwing his head back once more.

You grip lo’aks leg tighter as you feel Neteyam speed up. He was a moaning mess behind you, as he tried to hold on alittle longer. He was concentrated as his eyes fell shut. He shook his head at the amount of pleasure he was feeling.

“I’m gonna cum in this tight little pussy, you ready?” You nodded in response as you felt your legs starting to shake.

Lo’ak looked down at your legs with a dark grin before meeting neteyams eyes.

“Same time, bro?” Lo’ak asks as he felt his orgasm start to unravel.

“Hell yeah!” Neteyam grunted loudly as his thrusts became sloppy. He thrusts into you hard and deep, one last time as he painted your walls. You scream on Lo’ak, making his eyes roll back, as he released in your mouth with a loud moan. You whine loudly as you let go of your orgasm, squirting all over Neteyam for the second time.

Lo’ak slowly pulled out of your mouth. When he does, you gasp loudly as the access cum fell from your mouth. You bite your lip, as you deliriously smile up at him.

“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about!” Lo’ak shouts as he grips your neck, making you smile harder as your eyes shut.

Neteyam sits up behind you, and pulls out slowly watching his seed slip out of your pretty cunt. He smacks your ass, before getting up from behind you. Lo’ak backs up as well, letting your head go. You immediately fall back on the cot, as you lose consciousness. They look down at your limp body, and then back at eachother, laughing at how fucked out you were.

Lo’ak hovers over you, and gently shakes your face.

“Y/nnnnnn! Wake up, baby.” He shouts, kissing your lips. You open your eyes slowly, smiling up at them. You reach out to them and they laugh, getting back in the cot with you. The two boys sandwich you in. Lo’ak spooning you, as you lay on Neteyams chest.

“Mmm l-let’s do this again sometime.” You say into Neteyams chest as you fall asleep. The boys silently high five, as they laugh.

Ummm I think this one is better than the first, ngl. Like this is lowkeyyy 🔥. Anyways, I hope y’all like it as much as I do. I love y’all🫶🏽😎

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

Ummm I think this one is better than the first, ngl. I usually write all of my stories in one sitting, but I had to break this one up👀👀. Anyways, I hope y’all like it as much as I do. I love y’all🫶🏽😎

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

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sundrop-writes · 4 months

Text

Emergency Contact

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster.

Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.

Summary:

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts.

Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

Word Count: 10,400

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

...

Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).

sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.

mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.

A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It’s a newer song, and it’s one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone’s emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.

This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don’t have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.

This is another re-post from my old blog, and I do have a sequel for it in my drafts, which I am not actively working on. And before I post the sequel, I do plan on tweaking this and revamping it a little, but I figured I would repost this for now just to have the masterlist complete on this blog.

...

If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd.

The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits?

But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off.

If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for.

It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least.

Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you.

…

You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him.

He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive.

When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up.

“Who are your friends?” He asked.

As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice.

It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes.

“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed.

“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question.

“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience.

“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand.

“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang.

He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear.

“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement.

“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.”

You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time.

“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh.

“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason.

This left you confused. But you didn’t question it.

“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained.

“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self.

“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face.

“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded.

Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked.

“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of.

Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again.

“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?”

It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish.

Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about.

“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit.

It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you.

“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact.

“No way.” You scoffed.

“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.

“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together.

“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity.

“I am.” Dick said firmly.

“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips.

“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said.

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit.

You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words.

He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer.

“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-”

“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.”

Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air.

“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was.

Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours.

“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so.

It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by.

His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it.

When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment.

“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked.

You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him.

“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink.

You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle.

When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you.

Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him.

…

When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging.

Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick.

You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts.

Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock.

Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting.

When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs.

You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him.

You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun.

When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages.

You had no clue that you’d end up living together.

When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall.

You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional.

You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean.

…

“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.”

“Shut up.”

The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended.

You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments.

Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him.

You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words.

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes.

He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies.

“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words.

“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.”

He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face.

“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.”

He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail.

“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?”

He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear.

“How many times did you cum thinking about me?”

“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him.

“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed.

Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both.

In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that.

…

You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind.

It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day.

The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex.

Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up.

You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up.

…

It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you.

When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile.

You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl.

“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle.

“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.”

You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box.

“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs.

You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead.

“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.”

You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee.

“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.”

Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans.

“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’”

It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others.

“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’”

But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock.

But you would never admit that he was right.

“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won.

But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that.

Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you.

You just glared, and he smirked once more.

When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done.

“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed.

“I know.” You grinned at him.

He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you.

…

Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice.

Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him.

But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will.

When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong.

You went through the stages of grief like a rocket.

Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.

Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval?

Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you?

Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn.

And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it.

So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed.

You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done.

And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.

…

Hectic.

That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower.

Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up.

Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal.

But you weren’t truly worried about any of that.

Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision.

Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason.

The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him.

The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner.

After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection.

You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened.

So you took the leap.

You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door.

A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you.

His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him.

“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight.

“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes.

He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life.

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.”

It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects.

He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired.

You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you.

“You’re hurt.” He said quietly.

He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself.

“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own.

It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair.

Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt.

“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you.

Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now.

Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over.

“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.”

That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury.

“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence.

Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you.

“You need this treated.” He added on.

No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly.

“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.”

“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.”

The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound.

“Jason-”

You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you.

But of course, he cut you off.

“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore.

He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites.

You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion.

But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him.

Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.

“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you.

He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it.

“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm.

It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed.

You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it.

But, no dice.

The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to.

It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse.

Jason sighed through his nose.

“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?”

Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did.

You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you.

When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.

This was quiet, and calm, and gentle.

When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound.

His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it.

“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?”

It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind.

“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.”

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you.

…

Dick explicitly told you to stay put.

They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader.

Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him.

You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself.

“Jason!”

You screamed out his name, you leapt forward.

Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started.

Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.)

Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side.

At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason.

His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass.

You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen.

Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him.

Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you.

You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt.

Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once.

“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists.

The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety.

Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding.

Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off.

…

You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant.

“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk.

It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you.

It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke.

You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time.

“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.”

It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them.

You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him.

Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.”

There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line.

‘Maybe I just have to care.’

Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it.

After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable.

“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.”

There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning.

You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze.

‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’

The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely.

“It’s nothing.” You told him.

You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from.

Jason shook his head at this statement.

He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it.

When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain.

After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes.

“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply.

You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it.

Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble.

Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize.

There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident.

Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth.

“I meant what I said.” You told him.

At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened.

He didn’t find any.

You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound.

…

The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could.

When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street.

Panic flooded you.

You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately.

“Don’t move!” He shouted.

“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back.

Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason.

Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes.

He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him.

When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him.

“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die.

There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him.

His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart.

“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.”

You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning.

He thought he was a dead weight to your life.

“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!”

You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you.

“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully.

You ignored him.

You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting.

“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!”

“You have to let go.”

Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him.

But of course, you refused.

“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.”

As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more.

Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of.

He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned.

So Jason did what he had to do.

He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip.

“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-”

You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself.

You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely.

You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground.

…

If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him.

When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat.

You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it.

“All done.” He said quietly.

You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place.

“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you.

You felt your heart sink.

In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there.

You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave.

It was something else.

It had to be something else.

Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you.

He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours.

And now he was trying to back down from that.

You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.

The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first.

In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey.

You were both so vulnerable.

Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed.

If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that.

He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things.

As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask.

You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you.

You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly.

You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe.

You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through.

He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you.

“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin.

He knew that it would break him.

He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him.

Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought.

You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you.

“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was.

“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat.

Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you.

You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible.

“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.”

You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back.

“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.”

Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen.

“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips.

Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once.

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body.

He would never be perfect - but he was yours.

...

PLEASE NOTE: I do have a sequel in mind for this, but I don't know when I am going to have it finished and posted. Please do not ask me to write more of this or ask me when the sequel will be coming. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work here that I have already written.

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #titans x reader #dc titans fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

Text

he already has my approval ~ taron egerton

word count: 4393

request?: no

description: in which her dad keeps trying to set her up with her celebrity crush, who just so happens to be playing him in a biopic

pairing: taron egerton x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two, three)

The first time I met Taron was on the red carpet for Kingsman: The Golden Circle, and it did not go as well as I had wished it would’ve.

I had seen the first movie in theaters when it came out and immediately developed a crush on Eggsy, and, in turn, on his actor Taron. When dad was offered a cameo in the sequel, I think I was more excited than he was. I begged dad basically every day to let me go to set with him, but I was in college at the time and neither of my dads would let me miss that much time to travel just to meet my celebrity crush. It felt unfair at the time, but they had a point in the long run.

When the day of the premiere came around, dad took me as his plus one to the red carpet. I was buzzing with excitement the entire day as dad’s stylists came in to help us get ready for the night, but the minute our ride pulled up to the red carpet my excitement turned to nervousness. There was no reason for me to be so nervous. I had been to huge events like this before, and of course I had met famous people plenty of times. But there was something about meeting my actual celebrity crush that made me feel like a high schooler who was about to go on her first date.

Dad introduced me to Taron, because of course he did. Fatherhood never changed who dad was, and he was shithead, cocky, lived to tease everyone in his life Elton John. I always knew it was a bad idea to tell dad about my crush on Taron, but I never regretted it more than when I heard him shout across the red carpet, “Taron, darling, come here!”

He looked like the most handsome man in the entire world dressed in his suit, his smile lighting up his face as he approached us. That moment was when I realized he was real. He wasn’t just a character on my screen; he was an actual real person. And now he was stood in front of me. So close that I could smell his cologne, and boy, did it ever smell good.

“Taron, I want you to meet my daughter (Y/N),” dad said, gesturing to me. I was still in such awe by his beauty that I almost forgot who I even was.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/N),” Taron said as he shook my hand. “Elton has spoke very highly of you.”

My brain was definitely short circuiting. Hearing him say my name was one thing, but then for him to also say that he’s heard a lot about me from dad also contributed to it. When I realized I was just stood there staring at him like an idiot, I felt embarrassment wash over me. I tried to force myself to say something, but it was like I completely forgot how to speak English.

“She’s a little shy because she has a crush on you.”

I turned to look at dad in disbelief. If there was a higher power, They would do me a favor and open up the floor to swallow me whole and take me away from this entire situation.

I made my escape before Taron could say anything. I turned away from the two of them and walked away as quickly as possible.

The memory haunted my nightmares for a while afterwards. Even after I managed to forget about it for the most part, the intrusive thought would pop into my mind from time to time just to make me cringe. I could barley ever watch Taron’s movies anymore without thinking about that moment, which was hard since I still had such a big crush on him.

A year later, I was on set with dad and papa for the movie papa was producing about dad. Papa was so excited, as he was making the movie as a gift to dad. Papa had complete creative freedom and dad was able to give as much input as he wanted. When filming started, the two of them wanted to bring me, Zachary, and Elijah on set to watch some of the filming. They hadn’t told me much about the movie just yet, but papa’s excitement was contagious enough that I was feeling it, too.

“We’re filming the Troubadour scene today,” papa was telling us. “Full 70s aesthetic. You guys are gonna feel like you were really there to see your dad’s first ever solo performance.”

“Do I get any 70s outfits once you guys are done filming?” I asked.

“Darling, you know we have a closet full of all my favorite outfits from those days,” dad said. “You’re free to go through it as you please. It’ll be the real deal, not some cheaply made replicas.”

“Hey! You’re the one who approved of Taron’s wardrobe!” papa said with a chuckle.

The mention of his name made me stop in my tracks. “Wait...whose wardrobe?”

Both of them looked at me, confused by my reaction. “Taron, honey,” papa said. “That’s who’s playing dad in the movie. You didn’t know that?”

Memories from the year before came rushing back. I could not see him again or else I may just turn into an embarrassment puddle at his feet. I especially couldn’t be here with dad and have a potential repeat of the situation.

As if reading my thoughts, dad walked up to me and gently took my hand in his. “Honey, it’s been a year. He’s not going to remember.”

“But what if he does?” I asked. “God, he probably thinks I’m crazy after our first encounter. I can’t watch the filming.”

“Hey, hey, calm down sweetheart,” papa said. “You’re working yourself up. It’s okay. If you feel uncomfortable you don’t have to watch, but I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you’re expecting.”

I took a couple deep breaths to calm myself down. I wanted to be there and support both of my dads on this project they were both so excited over. I knew they were right and Taron likely didn’t even remember our first encounter, but I still couldn’t shake this pre-embarrassment feeling about seeing him again.

I sucked it up and followed them to the Troubadour set. There were many extras dressed in 70s clothes standing around the stage. The general murmur of the crowd turned into an excited one as people began to notice dad walking onto the set. I couldn’t see Taron anywhere, but I did recognize Richard Madden talking to the movie’s director, Dex Fletcher. Zachary was tightly holding my hand, trying to hide behind me. I knew the crowd was likely making him nervous, so I squeezed his hand and picked him up.

“Lead actor walking the set!”

I felt my body tense as everyone turned to see Taron taking the stage. He was wearing a pair of white overalls and a navy blue shirt with silver stars. He had on a wig that looked like dad’s hair from this time period and a pair of thick framed glasses that matched his overalls. He looked really good, even if he was dressed as my dad.

It took my brain a moment to register that he was walking towards us. I felt the panic return, but I tried my best to play it cool.

“It’s like looking in a mirror,” dad said as he embraced Taron. “I still have this outfit I’m pretty sure. I was just telling (Y/N) that I still have all my favorite outfits back home going all the way back to this very first performance.”

At the mention of my name, Taron’s eyes landed on me. I tried not to crumple under his gaze, and kept the smile on my face.

“Hey,” Taron said. “Good to see you again.”

“Good to see you, too,” I said, surprisingly myself with how confident i sounded.

“Who is this little guy?” Taron asked, referring to Zachary. The young boy buried his face in my neck, peaking one eye up at Taron.

“This is Zachary,” I said. “Z, this is Taron. Doesn’t he look like daddy?”

Taron struck a pose for Zachary, who seemed to warm up slightly but not a lot.

“What do you think, Elijah?” papa asked the youngest boy. “Do you think Taron looks like daddy?”

Elijah shook his head. “Daddy is old!”

We burst out into laughter as dad gave Elijah a mocked offended look. Elijah squealed as dad picked him up and began tickling his sides. Zachary was still a bit hesitant, but I could feel his body shaking as he chuckled in my arms.

“Come on, Rocket Man, we gotta start filming,” Dex called to Taron.

Taron made his way onto the set stage. Quiet was called and a hush fell over the room. The minute Dex called action, music filled the silence. One of dad’s songs, his least favorite yet one of his most popular ones, began to play. Except it wasn’t dad singing it, it was Taron’s voice. I was a little shocked to hear him singing instead of there being a backing track of dad’s music, but I had to admit he was an amazing singer. It was a fantastic choice they made. His singing voice was amazing and it made the movie have more of a fantastical musical vibe, instead of just a movie with dad’s voice dubbed over for the music.

I tried to get Zachary out of his shell more by dancing with him while the music was playing. We were not strangers to dad’s music. The three of us had seen dad perform on numerous occasions. I figured the familiarity of the music, plus the goofy dancing would definitely help with his nervousness. And I was right for the most part; Zachary came out of his nervous cocoon eventually and started dancing with me. By the time Dex called cut on the scene, Zachary felt comfortable enough to be put back down on to the floor and followed dad and papa to meet Jamie Bell, who was playing Uncle Bernie.

“Seems he enjoyed the show.”

I jumped at the sound of Taron’s voice so suddenly. He was laughing at my reaction as I turned back to him, my heart beating a million beats per second just having him so close to me.

“I think he just needed some time to warm up to being around so many people,” I said. “Usually when we go to dad’s shows we’re in a special VIP area where it’s just the three of us and papa, so he’s not used to so many people and so much attention being on him.”

“I get that. He’s only young. Doesn’t fully understand how well loved his dad is.”

“I don’t think I even fully understand it, and I’m in my mid 20s,” I said.

Taron chuckled and I couldn’t help but smile too. The realization of his realness was starting to wash over me again. He was actually here, stood in front of me, talking to me. He was a real person!

“Listen,” Taron said, “I wanted to talk about the first time we met.”

I felt my heart drop to my stomach. I tried not to let my embarrassment show too much. Maybe if I pretended I didn’t even remember, we could just move on from the entire situation and pretend like it never happened.

“I’m sorry it went the way that it did,” he continued. “I know you were embarrassed about what your dad said. I know Elton meant no harm, and he was just trying to tease you because...well, he’s Elton John, but it really wasn’t fair of him to say that to me when we were first meeting. I could tell by your face that that wasn’t exactly the way you wanted our first meeting to go.”

I was a little surprised by what he was saying. I don’t know why I was expecting for him to say something that would make the situation worse, like maybe calling me out on my crush and saying something about it. He seemed like a really nice guy, not the type to make someone feel bad. But I guess, after having an entire year to let that embarrassing moment stew, I just expected the worst if I ever met him again.

“I appreciate you saying that,” I said. “It definitely was not the way I wanted to meet the guy I had such a big crush on. I think dad expects stuff like that to wash over me like water off a duck’s back because of who he is and how many famous people I’ve met and am close to, but his status never makes those types of interactions easier. Again, especially when meeting someone that I was crushing so hard on.”

Taron was giving me a look that I wasn’t sure how to read at first. “Was?”

My brows furrowed together. “Hmm?”

“You said ‘someone I was crushing on’. As in you’re not anymore?”

I wasn’t sure why that was the part he was focusing on. I opened my mouth to respond, but Dex called to Taron again. Taron looked at me and winked behind the thick framed glasses before making his way back to set to start filming again. And it was with that wink that I could not handle anymore and finally had to sit myself down.

~~~~~~

I kept coming to set the next few weeks. At first it was only one day out of the week for a couple of hours, but soon enough I was tagging along with dad and papa every day. I tried to tell them it was because I was enjoying watching the movie being filmed, and getting to relive these big moments with dad, but they both knew that wasn’t the truth. They knew I was going because I wanted to see Taron.

We had gotten to talking a lot in between takes when I was on set. About everything and anything really. It started with just getting to know each other, but eventually it blossomed into talking about whatever was on our minds. Sometimes it was about the movie, sometimes it wasn’t. Either way, we just got to know one another. And eventually, my “celebrity crush” became a real one.

I knew my dads could see what was going on, but they didn’t bring it up. I figured that was mostly because of how my first interaction with Taron went and dad didn’t want to risk embarrassing me like that again. Which, I did appreciate. I felt like a friendship was being built with Taron and I didn’t want that to be risked with fatherly embarrassment to the extreme, even though I knew that wasn’t dad’s intentions.

One day, we walked on set and I was surprised to see Taron was nowhere in sight. Instead, we walked into a setup that looked like great grandma Ivy’s apartment that I had seen in plenty of dad’s baby pictures. There were three different actors than normal on set, one I recognized as Bryce Dallas Howard and one young boy I recognized to be dressed up the way dad had been when he was that age. I realized pretty quickly that today was probably mostly shooting scenes of flashbacks from dad’s childhood, which caused me to feel disappointed realizing that I likely wouldn’t be seeing Taron today.

I was sat in my usual seat (because yes, I had visited so often that I was given a seat with my name on it) watching the set up for the scene when dad came over and sat next to me, dramatically sighing as his body settled into the chair.

“These old bones can hardly sit down anymore,” he said.

I smiled at him. “Oh, please. You’re hardly that old, dad. Besides, we both know that after everything you’ve gone through, you’re going to outlive us all.”

“A man can only hope.” We laughed together. Dad put an arm around my shoulder and leaned into me. “Taron’s in his trailer, you know.”

“Oh?” I said, hoping I didn’t seem as excited by this information as I was. “He’s filming later on then?”

“Yeah, way later on this evening. David said that Taron showed up way earlier than he needed to claiming that he thought his call time was this morning, not this evening.” I raised an eyebrow at him, silently telling him to say whatever it was he was trying to say. “I don’t think that was the case, though.”

“Clearly.”

“I think he came here early hoping to see you.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I think you’re being a little ambitious there dad.”

“About as ambitious as I would be to say that you show up every day so you can see him, too?” When I didn’t respond to that, dad just laughed. “I see things, (Y/N). My eyes may be old, but they can still see things that no one else sees.”

“And what is it that you see with me and Taron?”

“I see a young man who is enamored by a young woman, and a young woman who feels the same way. I also see two cowards who are too afraid to confess their feelings to one another.”

I playfully nudged him with my elbow, to which he dramatically clutched his stomach and acted like I had shot him or something.

“I’m not saying that Taron feels anything for me,” I said, “because I don’t think he does. I think he’s just being friendly with someone that he considers to be a friend. But, if what you’re saying is right and he does have romantic interest in me, maybe the reason why he won’t admit it is because he’s too afraid to? I mean, my dad is Elton John after all. That’s a pretty big name to have as a potential father-in-law.”

“Hey now, I didn’t say anything about marrying you off to the man.” I smiled and shook my head. This really was just an every day thing with dad. He loved being a father, but I think he loved being a nuisance more than that. Papa always warned him he would regret that when Zachary, Elijah, and I started to pick up on his habits. “But both of you know that Taron has my approval if he does want to pursue you romantically. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have even been cast in this movie!”

“You cast him because he’s a good actor!”

“Oh, that was only part of it. The other part was so that you two could have a do-over with your meeting, since I ruined the last one.”

I put my head on dad’s shoulder. “You didn’t ruin it. You just embarrassed me beyond belief, but that’s what a father does.”

Dad gave me a small squeeze before pulling me away from him. “Go to his trailer. Have a few moments alone.”

“Give you a few grandkids?”

He pushed me away, which caused me to laugh hysterically.

“Darling, I may be old but I am certainly not that old,” he said. “And, again, I said I approve of him. Not that you two need to get married and pop out babies right away. Go on a few dates first, for the love of God.”

I stood from my chair, still laughing. Dad tried to glare at me, but he couldn’t. This was just our relationship.

I made my way out of the set before they started filming so that I wouldn’t be disrupting anything. All the trailers were grouped together in the lot, luckily with signs on them to label what or whose trailer they were. Taron’s was the furthest on the lot, with a theatrical gold star stuck to the door with his name on it. Part of me figured this was dad’s doing, but the other part of me would believe that it was Dex’s doing, too. Papa truly couldn’t have chosen a better director to capture dad’s personality and aesthetic than Dex.

My heart was pounding so loud that I thought Taron would hear it before I even knocked. I took a deep breath and pushed myself to knock before I got too nervous and ran away instead. There was a brief rustling in the trailer before the door opened, revealing Taron in a pair of black and gold hot pants, a gold jacket that was left unzipped so I could see his entire torso and chest, and heeled shoes with gold tips and gold wings on the side. I wasn’t sure where to look first. My eyes naturally lingered on his chest, his coarse chest hair a welcoming sight, but I couldn’t help but glance lower at his thighs in those hot pants, too. Not to mention the bulge -

“Shit,” Taron breathed, a panicked look in his eyes. “Sorry, uh, I didn’t expect...I thought it might’ve been someone from the set. I’m just...uh...”

“In costume, I would assume,” I said, trying to pretend like I was looking at his shoes and not another area lower on his body.

“Yeah,” he said. His face was starting to turn bright read. “It’s for a scene later on...way later on. I’m - I was early today, so they already put me through costume and makeup.” He cleared his throat and ran his hands through his hair. “Do you, um, do you want to come in?”

I nodded, unsure if I could even form any words. He stepped aside to let me into his trailer. He still looked flustered by my sudden appearance, which I thought was cute.

“Don’t be sorry, by the way,” I told him. “I don’t mind this eye full that I’m getting. Quite the opposite, really.”

That only made him more flustered, and I couldn’t help but smirk at that reaction.

“You’re a lot like your dad,” he commented. “He said something similar while we were filming Kingsman a few years ago.”

“We Furnish-Johns have good taste in men.”

I sat down on the couch of his trailer and he sat across from me. I tried not to be too obvious with my gawking, but it was hard not to look at him. God, was he ever attractive. And here he was, sat next to me, practically naked, and all flustered because I had caught him this way. I felt like I should be feeling a similar way, but knowing that I was the one who had made him feel that way just made me feel so cocky instead.

“I didn’t think you were on set today,” I told him. “I showed up and didn’t see you or Jamie or Richard.”

“We’re filming a couple smaller scenes later on to end the day. Dex wanted to film all of the flashback shots of your dad before he was Elton John today, just to get that out of the way.”

“You got here really early for that. It’s not even noon, and your scenes are this evening papa said.”

Taron shrugged. “I got the wrong call time.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “By over 12 hours?”

He shrugged again, but didn’t offer any further explanation.

I took a deep breath, once again willing that cockiness to stay long enough so that I could say what I wanted to say without losing my nerve. “Remember the first day on set where we talked about the first time we met, and you made a point of asking me about my crush on you.”

Taron nodded. “Yeah. You made it seem like you didn’t feel that way anymore.”

“Yeah, I did. Because I thought I would scare you away if I admitted that I did still like you that way.” I was moving towards him now, closing the already smaller space between us. “That I do still like you that way, if you get what I’m saying.”

We were so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He was looking down at me in a way that I could only ever dream of having Taron Egerton look at me like. It was like the movies I had seen him in, except this was real life and the person he was looking at was actually me.

“I think I understand,” he said. “But just in case, is it okay if I do an experiment just to be sure?”

I giggled. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

He placed a finger under my chin and tilted my head back until I was looking up at him. He leaned forward at an agonizing pace before his lips finally pressed against mine. It felt like the entire world around us paused in that moment. I had to restrain myself from getting onto his lap and deepening the kiss, even though I wanted to so badly. I wanted to spend the next few hours in this trailer with him, not even letting him leave to go film. I wanted to be tangled up with him and never let him go ever again.

The kiss ended far too soon. When Taron pulled away, I tried to chase his lips to pull him back to me. He chuckled at my eagerness, allowing his lips to press against mine for a quick peck.

“Let me take you out before we get too hot and heavy,” he told me. “I want to take you on a proper date.”

“I guess we should do that before I jump your bones,” I teased. “But you do still have quite some time till your call time. If you’d like company while you wait, I wouldn’t mind staying here with you for a while. Especially if you’re going to be dressed like that the whole time.”

Taron’s face turned red again as he looked down at himself, almost like he forgot what he had been wearing. “Might be too tempting for you.”

“It definitely will be. But I will respect your virtue and not try to deflower you in your trailer.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God! What have I gotten myself into here?”

“Something pretty great, if you ask me.”

#taron egerton #taron egerton imagine #taron egerton x reader #rocketman #elton john #imagine #one shot #rpf #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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chvoswxtch · 11 months

Text

lucky

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt finally gets to take out the girl that's been leaving care packages at his door for two months.

warnings: swearing, slight angst, tooth rotting fluff (might need to call your dentist after this one)

word count: 3k

a/n: the highly requested fluffy sequel to care packages. thank you to everyone that requested this. i hope you enjoy your first date with matty. ❤️ as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[part one]

“I hate you, you know that?”

Matt nearly spit out his coffee as he lurched over the conference table slightly, forcing the lukewarm bitter taste down his throat as a wave of incredulous laughter tore through his chest.

“What? Why?”

“Because it isn’t fair. It’s bad enough you’re so goddamn charming, and it’s borderline offensive that you’re like the most attractive dude I’ve ever seen. Not to mention that whole wounded duck routine you’ve got going on that makes all the girls fall at your feet-”

“Foggy, I don’t-”

“-but what’s exceptionally unacceptable is that you somehow managed to find a girl that knows about the horns, and not only didn’t run away, but still agreed to go out with you. Like the fact that you’re a vigilante and a walking human disaster totally didn’t phase her at all. That’s…like…against the rules!”

Matt couldn’t help but snicker at the disgruntled tone lacing his best friend’s exasperated voice, and the way the edges of Foggy’s mouth dipped in displeasure.

“What rules, Foggy?”

“The rules of the universe, Matt. You’ve had too much good fortune-

“Right, like being blinded and orphaned-”

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m talking about-”

“Guys, please. If you two keep bickering, Matt’s gonna be late. He’s lucky she’s even going out with him at all. Can we finish this?”

Karen glanced between Matt and Foggy with an arch of her brow, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to capture her lips as Matt’s teasing grin faltered into a purse of his lips from that bruise to his ego.

“Wow. Thank you…for that vote of confidence, Karen.”

“It’s true and you know it. Now, both of you sign these damn papers so we can get out of here before she changes her mind.”

Foggy’s expression suddenly turned serious as he focused his attention solely on Matt, staring at him with an accusatory finger pointed in his direction.

“I swear to God, Murdock. If you fuck up my pipeline to those crack cookies, I will never forgive you. You better turn that Matthew Murdock charm up to a million, you got me? I want those cookies, Matt. Cookies.”

»»———　　———««

It had been five days since Matt had asked you to dinner, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. Between the slew of court cases he was elbow deep in and the extra patrol he’d been doing at the docks to bust a trafficking ring, he hadn’t had a chance to talk to you again. He couldn’t feel your presence when he awoke past his alarm in the mornings, and when he finally got home at the Devil’s hour, he could hear you below him sleeping soundly in your bed.

For the past five nights, the harmony of your heart’s rhythm had eased him into a peaceful sleep like a serene lullaby.

But Karen’s words had anxiety filling every single cell in his body as he navigated the bustling streets of Hell’s Kitchen.

What if you had changed your mind?

It had been five days. Five days without getting to speak to you again. Five days without another care package.

That wasn’t unusual, right?

You didn’t follow a strict schedule with them. The drop offs were usually every few weeks. It just wasn’t time for one.

Or maybe you didn’t want to deliver any more of them.

Maybe the reality of who and what he was sank in and gave you cold feet.

Maybe this was over before it began.

“Fuck.”

Matt felt like he was losing his mind playing the role of the plaintiff and the defendant in the case of had he royally fucked this up already. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous to go on a date. Maybe it was because you were the first person he was going on a date with as himself. Not one half concealing the other. Not with a pre-spun web of lies to cover his tracks. Not with a rehearsal to remember to play down his abilities.

All his cards were out on the table, and while he felt an absolute rush of liberation that you knew the truth already, the consequences of that truth were daunting and seemed to be lurking around every corner of his mind. By the time he reached his door, his clammy hands kept slipping over his key, and sweat had started to bead uneasily along his hairline.

Should he call this whole thing off?

He really didn’t want to.

Did you want him to call it off?

He prayed you didn’t.

Had you been thinking about him for the past five days too?

He really hoped so.

»»———　　———««

When Matt finally made it to your door, he was nearly out of breath and his cheeks were flushed with heat. He had changed three times because you had, and he didn’t want to be over or underdressed. He focused his senses intently on you, trying to decipher the materials and textures of the outfit you finally settled on. You had music playing as you got ready, and for a few moments Matt just paused and listened to you hum along. You seemed to be in a good mood, and that eased his nerves considerably.

Was it wrong for him to invade on your privacy like that? The angel on his shoulder was already adding it to the laundry list for his confession on Sunday. But the Devil in him argued that he was going to hear you anyway. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help what his senses picked up.

Fifteen minutes before he was supposed to meet you at your door, Matt panicked and realized he hadn’t got you any flowers, and promptly ran down the street in search of a vendor. He spent eight minutes trying to pick some out. He didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, and roses felt too cliche and insincere. He wanted to pick something special, something that showed he put thought into them, even if he had run to get them right before he was supposed to pick you up.

The vendor had talked him into a bouquet of violet peonies, and since he didn’t have time to spare, he raced back praying that this was the one flower you didn’t hate or God forbid were allergic to.

Matt took a moment to gather himself outside your door; wiping the sweat from his brows with the back of his hand, attempting to steady his rapid breathing, smoothing his windblown hair back into place, and reciting a quiet Lord’s Prayer for good measure.

When his knuckles finally collided with your door to knock, he didn’t know if his heart was racing from the marathon he had just run, or because of you.

The light patter of your feet eagerly approaching the door caused a smile to grace his lips, and once he tuned out the sound of his own heart raging in his ears, he could hear yours fluttering in your chest like a hummingbird.

You were nervous too.

There was a bright smile on your lips, and a light twinge of embarrassment from how quickly you had flung your door open, and you let out a quiet laugh at your own expense.

“Hi Matthew.”

God, he had forgotten how melodic your voice sounded, and how much he suddenly loved his own name hearing it fall from your lips.

“Just Matt, is okay. Only my priest calls me Matthew. And, well…a few judges in the courtroom. And my partners when I cause them undue stress in the workplace. I mean you…you can call me whatever you want, whatever’s more comfortable. It’s just-it’s kinda formal, and you don’t have to-”

“Matt’s nice. I like Matt.”

“Matt likes you.”

Matt internally grimaced as those words slipped past his lips, and the mixture of disapproval and mortification on his face from his own blunder caused a fit of giggles to erupt from your mouth.

“Well, then we’re on the same page. Glad we’ve covered that base for tonight.”

He let out a breathy chuckle as he dipped his head for a moment, trying to find the source of his usual easy charm to refuel his glaring depletion. He cleared his throat as tilted his head to the side slightly, gazing blankly past his crimson glasses in the direction of your face with a somewhat shy smile on his full lips while delicately handing you the bouquet.

“I uh…didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, but the guy said these were the prettiest ones he had.”

Warmth spread across the tops of your cheeks when your fingers lightly brushed against his to retrieve his thoughtful offering, your lips immediately splitting into a wide grin.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, Matt. I love peonies. How did you know purple was my favorite color?”

Matt perked up at that, and he stood up a little straighter as a proud, dimple-showcasing, toothy grin took over his mouth.

“Lucky guess.”

“Do you always get so lucky?”

“I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Matt’s dazzling grin immediately dropped, and you could see his eyes widen behind the cherry tinted lenses. As his face paled and his lips parted in horror, his brows shot up above the frame of his glasses.

“Oh God, I didn’t-that wasn’t…I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not-you’re not-this isn’t…I meant the date. Not that I’m expecting anything-I wouldn’t-I just…meant I hope it goes well. I didn’t-Jesus fucking Christ.”

You were nearly in tears with laughter as Matt stumbled over his words. A part of you felt bad for laughing at the clarity of his humiliation, but it was so endearing knowing he was just as affected by his nerves as you were. This man that went out every night to take down dangerous criminals, and was arguably the most feared man in the city himself, was standing in front of your door stumbling over an apology about an unintended double entendre.

Reaching out to place your hand on his arm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze, momentarily distracted by the dense muscle you felt beneath the soft material of his shirt, before smiling at him in sympathy as you attempted to control your laughter.

“Matt, it’s okay. Really.”

He let out a deep exhale, his tongue darting out to wet his lips quickly as he let out a short and dry chuckle. Matt nodded his head in your direction, a faint curve of self-deprecation on his lips.

“Is this the worst first date you’ve ever been on?”

There was a teasing tone accompanying the timber of his voice, but layered beneath you could detect a chord of genuine curiosity intermingled with trepidation. The smile on your lips only grew as you looked up at him.

“Actually, it’s one of the best.”

Matt was completely in awe of you. There wasn’t a single falter in your heart’s rhythm. He felt his lips easily mirroring the smile that was on yours, reaching his hand out to lightly grasp your elbow as your hand was still comfortably placed on his bicep.

“What would I have to do to make it the best?”

“Hm. What’s for dinner?”

“Italian. That I know you like.”

A soft noise of content hummed from your throat, and the grin that bloomed on your lips triggered his own.

“Yeah, you’re definitely in my top three right now. But, the night is still young.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle at the playful invitation that flowed from your voice.

“Top three? I can work with that. I like a challenge.”

»»———　　———««

The restaurant Matt brought you to was a quaint, family owned spot just a few blocks away from your shared apartment building. It’s a place he had passed by on several instances, the aroma of fresh produce and homemade pasta sauce passed down through generations capturing the intrigue of his senses every time he crossed its path, but he had wanted to save it for a special occasion like a celebratory fifty year old bottle of champagne.

And tonight, he was popping the cork on it with you.

The space was incredibly cozy. Tea light candles flickered romantically on every table and cast an amber glow in the somewhat dim lightning. Collections of sepia and noir photos of large families and historic Italian architecture decorated the walls. The imported Sangiovese was rich in tannins and bold in flavor, caressing your tongue like bittersweet velvet. And the loud personality and thick accent of your waiter repeating your orders off in an alluring symphony of Italian made you feel like you and Matt had somehow been transported straight from Hell’s Kitchen to Italy just by passing through the door.

Both of your nerves seemed to evaporate into the breeze flowing through the open windows with every splash of burgundy against your lips and exchange of exquisite flavor from your dishes. Matt asked you questions with childlike excitement, eager to learn more about you, studying you with the exact same enthusiasm he showed important cases that were of the utmost importance to him.

In return, he found himself answering your own inquisitions easily without having to spare the devilish and more complicated details. It was so incredibly emancipating to not have to pretend with you. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t having to play a character. He could just be…Matt.

You approached every question with genuine curiosity and a respectful distance of where his invisible boundaries might be, and it made his heart soar that you were trying so hard to carefully craft his comfort. Matt had known that he was enthralled with you the first time he met you, but by the time dessert came, he was absolutely smitten.

He didn’t want to get too ahead of himself, but he also didn’t want the night to end.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Hm, I don’t know. You sure it isn’t too out of your way?”

Even if Matt couldn’t feel the way your lips parted into a huge smile, he could hear it in the cadence of your voice. The subtle joke made him chuckle as he nodded his chin in your direction, his own mouth pulling into a charming smirk.

“I’d still offer even if you lived in Long Island.”

The sudden spill of heat across the tops of your cheeks and the quiet sharp intake of your breath had his heart pounding faster in his chest.

“I suddenly wish I did.”

Even though your tone was playful, he could detect the implications behind your words. You didn’t want this night to end either, and that had him soaring up to cloud nine. Feeling emboldened by your indirect confession, Matt reached his hand out slowly to brush his fingertips against the palm of your hand, easily threading his fingers through your own, reveling in the softness of your skin that he had missed. He felt a spark every time your pulse resonated against his own, and his cheeks nearly hurt from how much he was smiling.

“I prefer you living a floor below me.”

By the time the two of you reached your front door, Matt couldn’t tell if it was the electricity from the building buzzing in his ears or the anticipation that kept building the entire walk, growing larger and larger like a snowball ready to plow into his chest to cause an avalanche when you turned your body to face him. As your thumb lightly brushed against the back of his scarred knuckles, a question that had been bouncing around in his head all evening could no longer go unanswered.

“So, as far as first dates go, what’s the verdict? Did I move up at all?”

Matt splayed his most charming smile across his plump lips, and while the flirtation in his voice was evident, so was the unmistakable undertone of uncertainty. The blood rushing through his veins was roaring in his ears like tides crashing against the shore during a storm.

“I’d say you made it to the top two.”

Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, seemingly surprised by your answer, his brows raising above the browline of his glasses slightly.

“Second place?”

“Unless you’ve got a last minute testimony for me to rule in your favor, Counselor.”

Your voice remained soft and teasing, but your heart was fluttering violently in your chest, like the hummingbird was trying to escape its cage. Matt carefully let go of your hand, reaching up to pull his glasses away from his face, baring himself completely before you as he slipped the crimson lenses into his pocket. The slight gasp from seeing his eyes for the first time that caught in your throat caused a bashful smile to appear on his lips.

His tongue darted out to wet them quickly, catching a taste of the tiramisu you shared still lingering on your tongue. He wanted to devour it from your lips. Taking a bold step forward, he did his best to fix his gaze where he thought yours was, leaning in slightly until your noses were merely an inch apart, the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips.

“May I?”

His voice seemed to have dropped an octave lower, coming out in an intimate whisper that you answered all too eagerly.

“Yes.”

Matt couldn’t hold back any longer. He quickly closed the sliver of distance between you, pressing his lips to yours with a satisfied groan, feeling a surge of pride at the way your breath caught in your throat. For a good thirty seconds, you actually stopped breathing. When he reluctantly broke the kiss, he brushed his lips against yours and whispered into them softly.

“Breathe.”

The second the command slipped off his tongue, you exhaled heavily before sucking in a sharp drag of oxygen, and Matt couldn’t stop the smug grin that overtook his entire mouth.

“Well, sweetheart? What’s the verdict now?”

“Yeah…yeah, yeah definitely in the number one spot.”

Matt beamed at the breathlessness of your voice, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest as he purred into your ear.

“Lucky me.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @desert-fern @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @danzer8705

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #daredevil #daredevil fic

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indifferent-depravity · 9 months

Text

Minors DNI 18+

CW: minor voyeurism

A/N: don't forget requests for everything are open so if you'd like to see anything from me feel free to drop it in my ask box :)

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help me escape abuse

my Etsy shop

Sequel to (and probably the start of an ongoing series) Dessert First

~~~

Sonny’s avoiding you, there’s no way around it. Ever since he walked in on you and Rafael in his office he’s run away at the mere mention of your name. And you have to admit, he’s gotten very good at excuses, always having one ready when you show up at Rafael’s office. So you do what every self-respecting person would. Corner him.

And as chance would have it, the perfect opportunity just falls into your lap. Sonny’s leaving Rafael’s office as you’re walking up and without thinking you grab his arm, pulling him into a dark meeting room. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor as he tries to make one of his famous excuses, inching towards the door, causing you to step in front of it. “You’re going to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me,” you say firmly and cross your arms.

Sonny stutters, “I-I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, doll- ma-ma’am!” his face turns deep red and your face falls, an inexplicable ache settling in your chest at his correction.

“Did I do something to upset you?” You ask quietly, “Rafa and I think very highly of you, and if I did something then-“

His eyes shoot up to look at you, his hands hesitating in the air as he reaches for you, “N-no of course not!”

“You’ve never called me ma’am before.” You give him a cross look, “Dominick Carisi, don’t tell me there’s nothing going on because there is and I’m not letting you leave until you tell me.”

Sonny’s shoulders slump and he sighs, “Nothin’ gets past you, huh?” When you don’t reply he scrubs his hand across his face, “I-I just didn't know how to face you after… after walking in on you and Barba. I didn't mean to upset you, doll.”

You step closer to him and uncross your arms, reaching out to touch his wrist, “That’s what this is about? That wasn’t your fault, we should have locked the door, neither of us is upset about it.” Sonny jumps like you shocked him and shakes his head, almost tripping over a chair in his attempt to back away from you.

“It’s not that, I…It-it's not you that I’m upset with.” He sighs again, hanging his head, “I’m upset with myself… with–with the way I reacted.”

Your breath leaves you in a rush and you ask, heart pounding, “The way you reacted?”

Sonny sinks into the chair behind him with a sigh, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands, “Y’gotta understand how embarrassing this is, doll. You’re Barba’s partner and I respect that but- but when I saw you… like that, I just- it-” He trails off into a groan.

You press your lips together, thinking for a moment before taking a step towards him, “You know me and Rafael are polyamorous, right?” You ask and his head shoots up making you giggle a little at the absurdity of the situation. “Yeah, it’s something we talked about before we started dating.” You take another step towards him, settling between his splayed legs.

You reach towards Sonny to tuck a stray hair back into place, “Rafael’s been asking me about you, too. I think he could tell I’ve been taking a shine to you.” He gives you a dumbfounded look, gaping at you like a fish. You giggle again and cup his jaw, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb, “We were going to talk to you about it but then you started avoiding us before we could.”

Sonny hesitates, his hands hovering beside your thighs for a moment before dropping back into his lap. He swallows hard, leaning back to look up at you, “You’re not kidding?”

You roll your eyes and bend down, kissing him in lieu of answering. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when you pull away, resting your forehead against his, “Does that answer your question?

Sonny lets out a breathy laugh, “Yeah I guess it does.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I kissed you again?”

Sonny chokes, eyes flashing up to yours. You keep your eyes on him, waiting for an answer when he suddenly stands up, crowding you back against the table. You gasp at the sudden movement, bringing your hands up to grab his shoulders as he bends down to claim your mouth in a deep kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist and you whine into his mouth, arching into him.

Sonny’s breathing heavily when he pulls away, a faint blush settling high on his neck, “That okay?”

You smile and nod, standing on your toes to kiss him again, “More than.” You grow silent, enjoying the warmth radiating from him and the feeling of his lips on yours.

Sonny’s phone ringing brings you back to reality and Sonny staggers back, his face a deep red. “I-I’m sorry, doll, I didn’t mean- that was- that was inappropriate of me.” He rushes, going back to avoiding your gaze as he pulls his phone out, backing up towards the door, “I should- I should go, Liv is calling and-”

“Dominick.”

He freezes and you take the opportunity to close the gap between you, pulling him down by his neck into a kiss, “You’re going to come by my apartment after work and we’re going to really talk about this. Understood?” The tone in your voice left no room for protest and Sonny nods, his heart skipping a beat at your responding smile, “Good, I’ll see you later then.” You leave him with a final kiss, swallowing a giggle as you make your way to Rafael’s office.

You grin when you shut the door, a giggle finally bubbling out of your throat and Rafael snorts, “Got Carisi to talk, huh?” You nod, practically skipping over to him to greet him with a kiss.

“He’s coming to the apartment after work.” You grin, biting your lip as you try to control your excitement.

“About fucking time.”

~~~

You pace the living room of the apartment you share with Rafael, wringing your hands as you wait for Sonny to arrive. Rafael watches exasperated, catching your wrist on your next pass in front of him, “Cariño, please sit down, you’re making me nervous and I wasn’t even planning on fucking the guy.”

You roll your eyes with a sigh but sink down onto the couch beside him, though you couldn’t help it as your leg bounced nervously, “What if I scared him away, Rafael? What if he decided to just avoid me forever.”

He scoffs and pulls you into his side, planting a kiss on the side of your head, “Baby, calm down, I doubt Liv has even let him clock out yet.” You let out another deep sigh and tuck your face against his neck, trying to let his warmth relax you.

Twenty minutes later, the buzzer goes off and you shoot up, almost elbowing Rafael in the groin in your rush to get up. You throw a weak apology behind you as you tug open your door. You buzz Sonny in and bound down the stairs, knocking him off balance with a hug, “You’re here!”

He lets out a laugh and wraps his arms around you, “Of course I am. Sorry I’m late, doll.”

You pull back with a grin and lace your fingers with his, “It’s okay, you’re here now.” You tug him up the stairs back to your apartment. “Look who I found,” You announce as you enter the apartment and Rafael snorts, standing to meet you as you pull Sonny into the living room.

“Good of you to come, Carisi.” He nods and Sonny gives him a nervous smile, almost a grimace as he pulls his hand from yours, putting some distance between you under the gaze of Rafael.

You whip around to give Sonny a sharp look, “You better not be trying to leave.”

He holds his hands up in surrender with a small laugh, “Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” His heart warms at your smile and he lets you direct him into a seat across from Rafael. You stand between them silently, butterflies filling your stomach as you look at the two men.

Rafael cooly leans back, fixing his eyes on Sonny, “So you want to fuck my partner.” Sonny immediately clams up, a bright red blush growing up his neck and you shoot a warning glare at Rafael.

“I-I don’t- I mean, I do- I mean-” Sonny cuts himself off with a hard swallow, looking down at his lap as he runs his palms over his pants, “M-maybe I should just go.” You turn to Rafael with a harsh frown and he starts laughing.

“Carisi it’s fine. I mean look at them, it’s hard not to want to.” Sonny’s face goes red, glancing between you and the door. You press your lips into a thin line and sit down next to him, lightly touching his arm.

“What Rafael is trying to say, is he’s okay with us being together.” You say gently, sending another glare in Rafael’s direction, “He wants me to be happy. And he wouldn’t tease you like this if he didn’t like you.” Rafael grumbles at the last part but stays quiet as Sonny takes a shaky breath.

Sonny looks at you, eyebrows pinched together with worry, and places his hand over yours “Doll, I-I don’t want to step on any toes here. Y-you’re happy with Barba and-”

“Carisi just shut up and kiss my wife.” Sonny gapes at him and you snort, sliding a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him down into a kiss before he could protest. He makes a shocked noise in the back of his throat but kisses back, tangling his hand in the hair at the nape of your neck.

You smile into the kiss, gently pushing him back so you can swing your leg over his. You settle into his lap and break the kiss with a sharp breath, “Don’t let him intimidate you, he’s just bossy when he’s not the center of attention.” Rafael scoffs with a murmured “No I’m not” and you giggle softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of Sonny’s mouth. Sonny’s hands hover over your thighs, his breath quickening at your warmth soaking through his pants. You guide his hands under your skirt with a hum, “You can touch me, Dominick.”

A whimper rips from his throat and he grabs handfuls of your thighs, eyes already glazed over with lust when he looks up at you. You nod encouragingly and grind against his lap, leaning into another deep kiss. He moans into your mouth, bucking up into you before he could stop himself.

You hum, hands coming up to undo his tie as you trail soft kisses over his jaw. Sonny’s fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs and you rock back into his hands with a moan, “That’s it, baby, just like that.” Sonny wets his lips, head tilting back with a shaky sigh to give you more space as your kisses dip down to his neck.

You delve your hands into his shirt, digging your fingers into his shoulders as you grind against him. “D-doll, I-” He trails off into a moan, squeezing his eyes shut as his hips buck up into you again.

“Don’t tease the man, Cariño.” Rafael’s voice breaks the silence, a hitch in his breath as he palms himself through his pants.

You hum, “Stop backseat fucking if you’re not going to join. I’m trying to ease him into it.” You nudge your nose against Sonny’s ghosting your lips over his, “He needs to tell me what he wants.” Sonny cranes his neck to deepen the kiss, whining softly when you pull out of reach with a murmur, “C’mon baby, be a good boy and tell me what you want.”

“I want… I want to fuck you. Please let me fuck you.” You smile, leaning down to kiss him gently. Sonny’s hands travel up your skirt and squeeze your ass before slipping to the front of your panties, fingers slipping underneath the fabric to press against your clit. Your breath catches, a small whimper falling from your lips as Sonny pushes his tongue into your mouth.

“Turn around, Cariño, I want to watch your face as he fucks you.” Your cunt throbs at his words and you slip off Sonny’s lap, standing long enough to pull your panties down your legs before settling back against his chest. “Lift your skirt, baby. Let me see that pussy.” Rafael watched with hooded eyes as you pulled your skirt up to your hips, squeezing his hard cock through his pants as your pussy comes into view. You’re wet with arousal, thighs sticky with your juices.

You tilt your head back against Sonny’s shoulder as he runs his fingers through your folds and groans at the smooth glide of his fingers through your wetness. “Fuck, doll.” He bites his lip as he sinks his fingers into your core, his other hand coming up to grip your hip and ground himself as he slowly fucks his fingers into you. You whine, grinding your hips down in a silent plea for more.

Your hands reach back, blindly fumbling with Sonny’s belt for a moment before it gives way, allowing you to push your hand into his pants. He gasps at the first touch to his cock, fingers stilling inside you as you start stroking him, ignoring the strain in your wrist from the position as you spread his precum down his shaft.

At Rafael’s groan, you look back at him, whining as you watch him slowly stroking his cock. He smirks at you, squeezing the base of his cock with a satisfied sigh, “Go on, Cariño, ride Carisi’s cock. Be good for me.”

You nod and rise on shaky knees to align Sonny’s cock with your entrance, leaning back to connect your lips in a deep kiss as he slowly sinks into you. Sonny whines into your mouth, gripping your hips tightly as you bottom out. He holds you against his lap and his forehead falls forward onto your shoulder, “Fuck! Fuck, doll, y’gotta give me a second or I’ll blow my load too fast.”

You giggle breathlessly, closing your eyes as you swivel your hips experimentally. A grin forms on your face as Sonny lets out a loud groan, slamming his hips up into you. You let Sonny choose the pace, body pliant under his hands as he starts guiding your hips to grind against him.

You bring your hand up to cup the back of Sonny’s neck, pulling him into a sloppy kiss, moaning into it as his cock hits a spot deep inside you. He’s whimpering, thrusting his hips desperately into you, driven half-crazy by your tight wet heat surrounding his cock. You feel fingers on your clit and you cry out, bleary-eyed as you look to see Rafael over you, pressing harsh circles against your core.

“You gonna cum for us, Cariño? Gonna be a little slut and cum on Carisi’s cock in front of me?” His voice has a mocking edge to it as he presses his fingers against your clit harder, your body tensing as it pushes you closer to the edge.

You whine, tilting your head up with a pout, “R-Rafa, don’t be mea-” You’re cut off by a ragged moan, thighs clenching around Sonny’s legs as Rafael rips an orgasm out of you. You shudder, pressing your face into Rafael’s stomach as tears prick your eyes from the overwhelming feeling of hands on you.

Sonny chokes “d-doll, ‘m gonna--” his hips stuttering as you tighten around him, pulling him over the edge with you.

Rafael tips your head up and hums when you look at him with a hazy gaze, returning his hand to his neglected cock. He strokes himself quickly, breath coming out in short pants as he takes in your wrecked look. “You look so good getting fucked, Cariño. All desperate and whiny once you get a cock in you, huh?” You let out a whine with a pout and he laughs breathlessly, pressing his thumb into your mouth, “Just proved my point, baby.” He forces your mouth open and his laugh morphs into a low groan as he cums, covering your mouth and tongue with his release.

You swallow and slump back against Sonny, a satisfied grin stretching across your face when he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you tighter against his chest, “You’ll never be able to get rid of me now, Dominick.”

“Who said I wanted to?” He hums, tucking his face into your neck as his cock twitches inside you. Your eyes slip shut and you sink further into Sonny’s embrace, basking in the warm afterglow.

#sonny carisi x reader #rafael barba x reader #sonny/rafael poly au #sonny carisi x reader x rafael barba #sonny carisi #rafael barba #rafael barba smut #sonny carisi smut #sonny carisi svu #rafael barba svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order #law and order svu #svu #polyamory #writing

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year

Text

Mine to take (I am his and he is mine pt. 2)

Summary: While Harwin was set on treating his new wife right after their wedding, she learns a little too quickly, exhausting even a patient man’s capabilities.

Notes: my god I love writing harwin smut so much. While this is a sequel to I am his, and he is mine it can also be read as a standalone

Warnings: slight d/s dynamics, dirty talk, reader knows exactly what they’re doing, choking/spanking, frisky behaviours, oral (m!receiving), softy Harwin loves aftercare

Masterlist | Part 1 | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

When Harwin returns to your chambers, he’s exhausted from City Watch patrol and all he wants is to fall into bed with his pretty wife – only that you’re not there.

He pauses at the emptiness of the bed. Usually, you’re already in your nightclothes at this time, asleep with a book in hand and it’s left to Harwin to carefully lie you down and cover you with a blanket.

Instead, the bed is empty. He searches through your rooms, in your newly deemed library, more books in shelves and piling on the floor, with notes scattered between them, but that too, is empty. Next, he looks in the nursery your father gifted to you prematurely, only to be disappointed by the sight of another empty room.

With an exasperated sigh, Harwin heads out of your chambers and towards the only other place you could be: the royal library.

He’s been here only a few times, most of them after he’s been married, and always to look for his wife. And indeed, you’re in the library as well. Curled up in a far corner, with a book in hand and-

Is that his shirt?

As he comes closer, Harwin can see that you’re wearing his shirt and simple linen pants. Only that his shirt is massive and gives everyone a perfect view of your cleavage.

“My love.” He greets you, leaning against the wall across from you.

“Harwin.” you smile up at him, almost doe-eyed.

“What are you reading that forced you out of our chambers?” he asked

“A book about Sothoryos. They have monsters so venomous they can kill a hundred men.” You replied, lifting the book up to emphasize the chain connected to it.

“And you did that… in my shirt?” Harwin asked.

“I hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t exactly walk around in nightclothes, but I did not want to wake my maid-in-waiting to dress me this late. They’re quite comfortable.”

“Do you want to retire for the night?” Harwin offered, and you nodded, standing up to put the book away. Harwin watched as the shirt fell even lower, revealing the tops of your breasts.

Unaware of the predicament you were putting him in, you kissed him on the cheek, before hooking your arm in his. You made your way towards the exit of the library, but before you could step into the hallways of the Red Keep, Harwin put his gold cloak over your shoulders, trying to tie it in front of your breasts.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Your shirt is- it’s quite revealing.” Harwin answered.

“Ah.” You replied, pulling the cloak closed and making your way toards your chambers.

“Ah?” Harwin asked after a few minutes.

“I didn’t realise.” You said. Harwin glanced down at you, the way you were practically skittering towards your chambers.

“Was Sothoryos that interesting?” he asked.

“You couldn’t drag me there for anything in the world, but it’s fun to read about.”

“I’d rather drag you somewhere else.” He mumbled, too quiet for you to hear.

The Red Keep seemed swept empty, the two of you only passing a few guards and Lord Beesbury, who tottered past you without a care in the world. But Harwin did not miss the glances the guards threw at his wife.

It wasn’t your clothes, or your cleavage, but simply that you were pretty enough to catch any man’s eye, and those in the Red Keep often had no manners.

“They’re staring at you.” Harwin said through gritted teeth.

“Is that so?” you asked, and Harwin saw you fight the devious smile worming itself onto your lips. Slowly, he began to realise what was going on.

“Was this your intention?”

“No.” you replied, but your tone was so uneven that he highly doubted it.

“It was.” He said, his mouth almost falling open in shock. “My innocent lady wife, trying to get me jealous. Why?”

“I wasn’t trying anything.” You said, but the smirk on your face was all-telling. Harwin shook his head, trying his best to ignore the fact that the guards walking past were still staring, but when one of them turned to look at your ass after he’d passed you, something in Harwin snapped.

Quickly, he pulled you into an alcove, away from the main hallway, staring down at you with dark eyes.

“Why?” Harwin tried again, but you only smiled at him giving him no answer. Instead, you surged up, kissing him roughly. Harwin gave in, melting against your lips after such a long day. He almost gave a groan when you nipped his lower lip. Your hands were exactly where he liked them to be, lightly tugging at his hair.

Frustrated, he flipped you around, careful not to smack you against the wall, but still pressing you against the cool stone. His giant hands quickly dwarfed yours as he lowered himself down to your ear.

“Are you going to give me an answer or must I get it out of you myself?” he asked. Harwin wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to let this side of him come out so soon, if she’d like it, or withdraw again, terrified, but right now he needed this.

Instead of answering him, you gave him a cheeky smile, letting your ass brush against his crotch, where he was already hard.

So he flipped you back around, only to be met with the sight of your lust-blown pupils and heaving chest, revealed to him since his golden cloak had fallen of your shoulders.

“You’ve got a terrible lack of respect.” He warned.

“Is that so?” you jabbed.

“I am Lord Commander of the City Watch, heir to Harrenhal and your Lord Husband, so yes.”

“I didn’t know you took yourself so seriously.”

“You’re walking a dangerous line here.”

“Bite me.” You said, your smile still much too bright to his liking. Angrily, he hoisted you up over his shoulder, carrying you the rest of the way to your chambers. He didn’t care about the looks he got from the last pair of guards, only that their eyes wandered up to your ass on his shoulder too quickly.

When you made it to their chambers, Harwin kicked the door closed behind him, sitting you down on the edge of the bed.

The smug smile on your face made him feel murderous, and at the same time, he was impressed by the fact that you had grown this bold so quickly.

“How did you get this idea?”

“Believe it or not, I am in forced proximity to the other ladies of the court. I hear them talk about their affairs and such.”

“So you want to have an affair? Is that it?” Harwin hissed.

“No. Only taking their advice.”

“For what?”

“Getting ravished.” You said.

An idea began to form in Harwin’s head at your words. Two could play at this game. So he crossed the distance between the two of you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, but instead of lying you down on the bed as he normally did, he picked you up, carrying you towards a wall.

Your legs were hooked tightly around his waist, stone digging into your back as he grabbed your ass in his palms.

“You want to get ravished, hmm?” he whispered in your ear, and you nodded, frantically trying to reach his neck to place kisses there, but he pulled away with a chuckle.

“Say it.” He demanded.

“Please. Please fuck me, husband.” You whispered breathlessly.

“My wife. What would people say if they saw you now, begging like a common whore.” Harwin replied. “Get on your knees.”

“What?” you stuttered, and Harwin reveled in your innocence.

“You’re a smart girl. Do what I did for you.” He commanded. You blushed furiously in response.

“I am-“ you began, but Harwin interrupted you.

“I don’t give a fuck what you are. You certainly didn’t.”

Slowly, you sank down to your knees, watching Harwin as he opened his breeches and took out his cock, pumping leisurely.

“Open up, my love.” He commanded. His hands threaded through your hair, he guided you, and you quickly found a rhythm, trying to apply what you had heard about… this.

You couldn’t see him well, but you could hear him, groaning praises to you.

“You look so pretty like that, on your knees for me.” He said, hips bucking upward as his head fell back.

After a while, he grabbed your hair in his hands, carefully tugging at it and pulling you upwards. You stood on wobbly knees, letting him wipe the spit out of the corner of your mouth.

With no qualms about it, Harwin kissed you, leading you to the bed a little gentler than before.

His hand wandered down your body, going between your legs.

“You’re soaked for me love. All that from sucking my cock?” he demanded.

“Please.” You replied. Harwin wanted to chuckle to himself. You were a mess, blushing furiously but obviously hoping for him.

He took his time with your clothes, letting his hands trail so slowly he could see the frustration form in your eyes. Slowly, he palmed your breasts, licking your nipples until they grew hard, before moving on to your cunt.

Harwin draws teasing you out, letting his beard barely scratch you clit, touching you everywhere except where you need him to be. When you try to push him down, he grabs your hand, holding it down on the mattress.

“You want to be fucked?” he asked again, and you nodded enthusiastically, brows furrowing to confusion as he leaned back against the cushions.

“Get on top.” He commanded.

Hesitantly, you moved to hover over him, and Harwin helped you guide himself into you. As you sank down on his dick, his hands found your hips, steadying you carefully.

“Good?” he asked, his caring side taking over. Yes, he was frustrated, but he would never risk hurting you.

“Yeah.” You replied. With his hands guiding you, you rolled your hips, causing him to hit that spot inside you.

“Take your pleasure.” He commanded. You moved around for a bit, trying to figure out what felt right, and when you did, you started moving more quickly.

You felt his eyes burn into you, never once leaving your form. When Harwin gave you a smirk, you couldn’t help but comment.

“What?” you snapped.

“Look at you, bouncing on my cock.”

“I-“ you began, freezing where you were. And then, his hand was on your neck. Not quite choking, but still dangerously close to it.

“You like that?” Harwin asked. You nodded in response, and he dared to squeeze a little tighter.

“Keep going.” He commanded, and you continued to move, feeling the tension build up in your belly. You let yourself be loud, not caring how much any guards outside might hear, only caring about the high you were chasing.

Harwin was still watching you, and when he saw you get close, he began bucking up into you, helping you along until you came around his cock, your cunt desperately clenching for more.

You practically collapsed on top of him, his cock still inside you.

“You didn’t get your release.” You murmured.

“It’s fine.” He said, his hands wandering to your hips to lift you off.

“No, keep going. I’m not sure if I can move though.” You replied.

Harwin nodded, positioning your head onto his chest. You felt him thrusting into you, his hips slapping against your ass as you bounced upwards, your head in the crook of his shoulders. Not soon after, his thrusts grew sloppy.

Wanting him to feel as good as you, you did your best to ride him for the last part of it. You felt a sense of pride as his head tipped back, giant hands practically bruising your hips with his grip until you felt him spill inside you.

Completely exhausted, you rolled off of him, lying down next to him. You stayed like that for a while, until he opened his eyes again with a smile on his face.

“I suppose you should disrespect me more often.” He said.

“Perhaps.” You replied, spreading out on the bed like a lazy cat. When Harwin got up, you followed his movements shamelessly, staring at his back like there was no tomorrow.

Suddenly, you heard him chuckle.

“What is it?” you asked.

“You moved the bed.” He replied.

“The power you possess over me.” You sighed, letting him push the bed back into place. He returned with towel, cloth and a jug of wine.

Carefully, Harwin wiped you down, before he dried off your back. You hadn’t noticed yourself sweat, but this felt like a treat anyway.

When he was done, he handed you a glass of wine.

“How was your day?” you asked.

“Tiring. There’s a group of children running around in Flea Bottom, cutting the purses of the people.”

“Did you catch them?”

“Actually, I let them go.” He admitted. “There’s no sense in chopping off the hands of hungry children. They’ll only grow to resent the king. Gave them an earful about stealing though.”

“That’s kind of you.”

“What about you?” Harwin asked. As you moved behind him to work out the tenseness in his shoulders, you thought for a moment.

“Grand Maester Orwyle and I got into a small argument over whether or not I should be in the royal library all the time, and of course, I read about Sothoryos. I also visited the stables, to pick a horse so that I can accompany you riding sometime.”

“Why did you argue with the Grand Maester?” Harwin asked. “Is the library not open to everyone?”

“It is, but he finds that I take up too much space. Even though the books I read are mostly dusted over.” You complain.

��I’ll have a word with him tomorrow.” Harwin decided.

“You mustn’t.”

“I must. Otherwise, you’ll be caught stealing from the library soon.” He joked. Carefully, he turned around to you, grabbing you by the waist and setting you down in front of him.

You wanted to protest, but he had already begun working out the kinks in your own neck.

“You do need better posture if you want to continue reading though.” Harwin said.

“And they more comfortable seating arrangements.” You replied.

“I’d like to go riding with you.” Harwin interjected. “It can be fun, if done properly.”

“I see that now.” You joked. Harwin rolled his eyes at that, lifting up the covers next to him and allowing you to cuddle into his arms.

“I’m so glad I married you.” You said, missing the smile on his face at your words. Yes, married life was far better than you had thought, even if you would have to pull your lord husband off of the Grand Maester tomorrow.

#harwin #harwin x reader #harwin x you #harwin x y/n #ser harwin x reader #ser harwin x you #ser harwin x y/n #ser harwin strong x reader #ser harwin strong x you #ser harwin breakbones #ser harwin breakbones x reader #ser harwin strong #harwin strong #ser harwin strong smut

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brabblesblog · 10 days

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 12: I hold myself supremely blest -- blest beyond what language can express

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

A reunion amongst friends and a little surprise await the bride-to-be.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @adactaaries

Ban was halfway finished with picking out cutlery, deciding between two soup spoons that looked rather similar when hands covered her eyes. Immediately she noticed the lack of Astarion’s scent, finding the aroma of parchment instead.

“Gale?”

The hands let go and he chuckled. “Congratulations are in order, I take it?”

“Thank you,” she turned to give him a quick hug. “But… aren’t you scheduled to be here in two days, together with the rest?”

He seemed to dither for a moment, and she raised her eyebrows. “I was supposed to, but Astarion requested that I come a few days ahead.”

“He- what for?” Ban watched as Gale opened his mouth to speak, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Astarion smirked at her. “I’ve asked for Gale’s assistance regarding… certain matters, which are to be a surprise.”

A surprise? Does he mean the plans to get my father to speak up? Ban assumed so. Perhaps he’d made progress and wanted to surprise her with it, although she couldn’t fathom what Gale could do to help.

“Alright.” She smiled at Gale again, then gestured in the direction of the guest rooms. “Shall we?”

As they walked together, Gale cleared his throat. “I assume things worked out for the best between you and Astarion?”

She inclined her head. “It did.”

“Not that I’m doubting you, but-”

Ban cut him off with a look. “You’ve read my letters. We… we’ve worked it out.”

“I know.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “I know it’s highly unlikely, and likely rude of me to say so, but I merely wanted to be sure you aren’t trapped, that he hasn’t found some way to compel you.”

“I appreciate the concern. I really do. I assume I’ll also be having this conversation with the rest of our companions.”

They reached the door and Ban opened it, revealing a huge, ornate bed and a desk. A large painting hung on the wall opposite the window.

Ban looked around, collecting her thoughts. “Thank you for checking. But Astarion and I have never been happier.”

“He does seem more… relaxed,” Gale admitted. He sat on the bed, tiredly toeing off his shoes. “He sent his request to come ahead of time and for once he didn’t sound…”

“Off-putting?” Ban offered, and he chuckled.

“He sounded like his old self.”

Ban snorted. “Yes.” She didn’t intend to elaborate to their friends. It was enough for them to know that they were together and happy; she didn’t think it necessary to share much with the others about their relationship.

“And how are you doing, Gale? Any news from Waterdeep? I know Astarion invited Vel’s former spawn through you.”

“Nothing new, other than Enxisys and Miaxisys now apparently rule the roost,” Gale replied. He scanned the room, eyes pausing for a moment on the painting, but he didn’t remark on it. He cleared his throat. “Erm. You two have done a fair amount of redecorating since we were last here.”

“Almost tore the place down and rebuilt it from the ground up. We expanded the gardens, as you saw on the way in, redid the entrance, the dungeons…”

“Dungeons.” Gale groaned, “What joy.”

“They’re shops now. We’re not keeping prisoners. Well. I say we - but I know what you assumed. Him.”

“Oh, I figured. You wouldn’t have stayed had that been the case.” He waved a hand. “I suppose he’s not what we thought he was. A pompous, arrogant arse, and a little… domineering, in his little tyrant-y way, but that’s not really anything new from the Astarion we knew. Just… more.”

She laughed at the thought. “You’re not wrong. But… Gale, a favor, please. Something I’d ask of you, and of everyone, once they’re here.”

“Go ahead,” he said, curious.

“Be nice. To him.” She paused, searching for the right words. “He… what happened at the rite, after it, the reunion... It all still hurts him.”

She could see Gale consider her request. “I’ve always been… nice to Astarion. At the very least, civil.”

“I know, but he did feel betrayed by all of it.” She patted his knee. “A little more kindness would do wonders. He needs it.”

Gale softened at her words. “I’ll try, and I’ll inform the others as well. For what it’s worth, I could always see how much he loves you. After the rite, it seemed… misguided, along with the rest of him.”

Ban sighed. “Misguided, misunderstood, mis…” she waved a hand, “Missed. It was much missed.”

She fell silent for a moment. “Thank you for coming here, and indulging him in… whatever he wants you to do.”

Gale walked through the palace, arms clasped behind his back. Astarion had summoned him to a spare room in one of the palace’s annexes. The third room from the landing, the chamberlain had said, and Gale managed to find it, the door left slightly ajar. He stepped in and saw the Ascendant, dressed sharply as usual, in an embroidered doublet.

“You asked for me?” Gale shut the door.

Astarion turned to face him. He looked… uncertain, and Gale had only ever seen that on his face when Ban had been kidnapped.

“Gale.” Astarion cleared his throat. “I appreciate you coming ahead on such short notice. This wouldn’t be possible without your participation.”

“Of course. A few days made little difference. I simply had to ask for a longer leave from the academy.”

“I see.”

To Gale’s surprise Astarion fidgeted. He watched him cross his arms across his chest. For a long moment the two men stared at each other in silence.

Gale was the first to break it. “About… Ban. We- I was just with her and-” He tried to hold Astarion’s gaze. It wasn’t hard, and if he had to guess, there was some measure of amusement there, however veiled. “I simply want to clarify that whatever feelings I had for her back then,” he waved a hand, “are… gone. Poof!”

He saw the Ascendant’s lip curl, but was surprised it was to smile rather than sneer. Astarion pursed his lips momentarily, then huffed a small chuckle, his voice becoming haughty - and yet…companionable. “You are free to feel however you wish to feel about Ban. It is completely understandable to find yourself smitten; I myself am obviously not immune to her charms.”

Gale spluttered. “Yes, I mean, she is wonderful and all that, of course! However I’m trying to say-”

“I am aware,” Astarion interjected. His voice was chilly, but he was still smiling, and now his eyes were crinkled. The mirth in them was impossible to miss. “And I am saying it’s fine.”

“Oh.” Gale shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Alright.”

The smile on Astarion’s face was replaced by a pensive expression, and he turned away from Gale to face their little project. Gale heard him exhale.

“Between the two of us, I’d say I’m the one who needs to clear the air,” Astarion began. “I’ve yet to express my gratitude for taking Ban in when she needed it most. When she needed someone to give her aid, you were there, despite the potential risks to yourself.”

Gale swallowed. “I did what needed to be done. I wanted to do right by my friend. Whether I felt anything romantic for her or not was irrelevant.”

“I appreciate that,” Astarion turned, meeting Gale’s gaze. His eyes, to Gale’s surprise, were wide and earnest, the hooded, guarded expression absent. Gale hadn’t seen Astarion look so guileless since… well, possibly ever.

“While it… stung that none of you cared to remain friends with me after the rite, or to communicate with me before providing her assistance in leaving,” he began, “I comprehend your reasons. After all, I was with her every single day, and even she didn’t do that.”

Gale considered explaining himself, but decided to wait. Astarion took a deep breath and pushed on.

“I have to thank you, however, for aiding her - all of you, were I to be completely frank. Her departure was…” his eyes flicked away, “much needed. It was what she needed, and it was what I needed to set myself on the right path.”

Gale nodded, surprised and pleased by Astarion’s - by his friend’s candor. “Er. You’re… welcome, I suppose. Well, it all ended up for the better, so.”

He shifted his attention to the hulking object by Astarion, clapping his hands together and smiling eagerly.

“So, my friend. Shall we begin?”

Ban watched the foyer doors open and was immediately accosted by big, burly arms; she gasped out a weak “Karlach!”

“I’m here!” Karlach exclaimed, squeezing Ban tightly. “Withers said he’d be coming to the wedding itself, but-” she gestured from herself and Wyll, “-we’re his gift!”

“Delightfully considerate of him,” Astarion mused dryly from where he stood behind Ban. Karlach let go of her.

“Hey, Astarion,” she waved at him awkwardly.

He lifted his eyes from his fingertips, which he had been very pointedly studying. “Hello, Karlach.”

She beckoned Wyll over, and he pressed a horned skull onto Ban’s palms; it smelled sulphuric, and Astarion’s nose burned.

“Our wedding present,” Wyll said, looking at both of them. “It isn’t much, but-”

His words were silenced by Ban’s tight hug. As she released him he stepped towards Astarion, offering a hand.

“Congratulations.”

Astarion seemed to freeze for a moment, staring at Wyll’s proffered hand before clasping it for a firm shake.

“Thank you, Wyll. I… I appreciate it.” There was a stiffness in how he held himself, even now he was awkward in the face of kindness from anyone but her. Ban found it rather endearing and amusing.

The next face Ban saw was Halsin’s; evidently everyone had traveled together. He wrapped his arms around her, and the scent of earth filled her nose. After a long moment he set her down and turned to hug Astarion as well. To her surprise, he accepted and returned the gesture without complaint. Whatever had transpired in their conversation in Rivington had clearly established a warmer relationship between the two.

Then Lae’zel, who gave Ban a quick once-over. “I came to make sure you were healthy. And you,” she said, turning to Astarion, “are lucky they said she would likely want you alive last time. Chk.”

He bit his lip, then ground out a terse reply. “Formidable as you are, I wouldn’t be so certain I was the lucky one that day, Lae’zel.”

Lae’zel opened her mouth, but Shadowheart interjected before it could escalate. “Astarion! I’m so happy for you both.” Like Halsin, she hugged Astarion. Ban sagged in relief when he allowed it, looking only mildly baffled by the gesture. Ban mumbled a quick thank you when it was her turn for a hug. She’d told Shadowheart everything when they’d met to discuss the Sharran cloisters, and she was glad to see that had been enough for Shadowheart to warm up to Astarion.

Astarion blinked, seemingly bewildered after his second hug of the day. He recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

He turned, eyes roaming over everyone. “I shall have our chamberlain lead you all to your rooms. Dinner will be at sunset.”

Ban smiled a little, watching his shoulders drop as the chamberlain led their former companions deeper into the palace.

“You handled that well.”

“Well enough,” he grumbled. “They still loathe me.”

She stepped closer, cupping his cheek. “They do not. And if some of them do, love, we’ll change their minds by the time the night is over. And then tomorrow…” she pecked his lips, “Tomorrow that will be the least of your concerns.”

He sighed. “I know. I merely-” he shook his head ruefully. “Best not bring it up, I suppose. What’s done is done.”

“You could clear the air. We have all of tonight to do that,” She scanned his face. “Is there more troubling you?”

“Not troubling me, dear.” The corner of his lip tugged up into a smile, arms wrapping around her for a quick hug. “On the contrary; there’s something I can’t wait to show you.”

“Oh?” She leaned into his touch, a small moment just for themselves on this busy night. “Perhaps something between your legs?” She crooned, batting her eyelashes at him coyly.

“Your wedding gift,” he purred into her ear, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“If it’s some expensive jewelry again, or more art… Gods. We’ll run out of walls to hang them.”

He smirked. “It is expensive, and rare. But you’ll have to wait until the end of the night to see it.”

They entered the dining room to see everyone seated and waiting; Ban slipped into her usual seat to the right of Astarion. Wyll broke the silence that had fallen when they walked in.

“We’re all happy for you two,” he began, his hand reaching for the stem of his goblet. “For… working it out. Shadowheart and Gale kept us abreast of the… developments.”

Astarion, who’d been pouring himself some blood from their shared bottle, set it down with a rather loud clink.

“Working it out,” he spat out. “Of course we did, no thanks to you lot.” He knew she’d had to leave, knew it had needed to happen, but that didn’t lessen the hurt.

Karlach leaned forward. “We did what was best for Ban. And you were-”

“I know what I was,” Astarion hissed. “I merely wish someone… had approached me. Then again, why did I even expect anything of the sort? You all distanced yourselves after the ritual, avoided me as if I was some… leper, and not one of you reached out to me when Ban…” He felt Ban’s hand cover his own and he squeezed.

“I understand why you did what you did,” he pushed on. “I simply wanted you to know that it hurt me - all of it.” Clenching his jaw, he looked down at their entwined hands.

He took a deep breath. “But all is forgiven. We are here to celebrate, not throw old grievances around.”

Silence met him for several long moments, broken only by Gale reaching over to clap a hand on his shoulder. “We understand, Astarion. I meant what I said before. We’re still your friends.”

Their companions voiced their agreement and several quiet apologies were offered.

“I… Thank you,” Astarion mumbled under his breath, reaching for his goblet.

With that out of the way, conversation began in earnest. Astarion watched it all, listening to nothing in particular, unsure of how they actually felt about him. Will they always look at me and wonder if someday they’ll be called upon to rescue her from me once more? Will I ever be just Astarion to them again?

As the food was served and he prepared to eat, he caught his name.

“-starion?”

Shadowheart. He looked to her, curious.

“Karlach was asking if you’d be able to take on a cambion now,” she explained.

“Cambion, I’m not certain. An incubus, most assuredly so.” He smirked, the pleasant memory flashing through his mind.

Lae’zel fixed him with a baleful glare from the other end of the table. “If by that you mean to say you killed Haarlep… I am almost impressed.”

“I did indeed,” he preened, raising his glass to her. “As previously implied, I could probably take you on.”

She laughed, a challenge in her eyes. “Chk. I would like to see you try.”

Ban cleared her throat. “Before you challenge Lae’zel, Astarion, you should try sparring with me.”

“Only if you can stay in mist form for longer than a minute,” Astarion quipped; pleased to hear the laughter from the rest.

“The day I do is the day you’ll regret saying that.”

Karlach snickered. “Look at you two! At us! Just like the good old days, eh?”

Astarion glanced at her, a wistful look in his eyes. “With much better fare, but I agree.”

“The camp food left much to be desired,” Halsin agreed. He was seated between Lae’zel and Shadowheart, his more homely clothes a contrast to his surroundings.

“Thank you!” Astarion exclaimed emphatically, to loud snickering.

“You don’t even eat!” Gale snapped, indignant.

Astarion wrinkled his nose. “I didn’t eat, but I could smell.”

“I eat,” Karlach intoned, “and it sucked.”

“Apples, fish heads…” Shadowheart added, before sipping a spoonful of soup.

Gale spluttered. “I had no choice! That was all we had!”

“You were with Ban and Astarion most days, Gale. You could have taken the time to find more palatable fare,” Wyll suggested, deadpan.

Ban scanned them all, a small smile flitting over her features. “Astarion said my breath after I ate your stews was rancid.”

“Rancid!” Gale raised his index finger. “I’ll have you know my mother taught me how to cook!”

Laughter filled the room. The warm candlelight threw them all into reddish hues, and if Astarion squinted, it was almost as if they were back by the campfire. He looked to his beloved, saw her laughing, and it was as if no time had passed. His heart swelled.

She shot him a smile, the one that was just for him, reaching over to tangle her fingers in his, their hands set on the table for all to see.

She leaned in to ask quietly, “Feeling better?”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek before replying.

Astarion’s eyes locked onto hers and he directed his answer to her mind. I do not require their approval, or their friendship, but… I will admit that having it again is nice. He reached for another forkful of his dinner.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. You and Gale had a conversation about it, and I had discussed things with Shadowheart and Gale, as well. Halsin-

Halsin and I made amends some time ago. He fixed her with a pointed gaze, sending a small sliver of his memory-

Coming apart on her lap, Halsin’s gift spreading him open, feeling it hit his spot with every thrust. The look on her face as she fucked him, praised him, loved him, his desire and joy comingling in an overwhelmingly intense rush as he came.

She hid her answering grin from their guests, resting her head on her hand and tilting her head his way; her legs crossed. I assumed as much, seeing as he seemingly gifted that to you with no preamble.

Astarion shrugged. It was a wonderful present. I do find myself curious about how he’ll attempt to top that for his wedding gift. He let his eyes rake over her. Hopefully his new present will have me writhing with just as much pleasure as the previous one did - perhaps even more, seeing as you’ve improved your… skillset.

Ban snorted, rolling her eyes. She pointedly stared between his legs, licking her lips slowly. I saw him carry something in when he arrived. Something large and fragile, by the looks of the container. She showed Astarion what she had seen: a rather sizable box, gingerly set on the floor when Halsin greeted them and picked up with great care and cradled afterwards.

If it’s fragile, then it’s quite unlikely to be what I was looking forward to.

He saw Ban splutter mid-sip, failing to keep her laughter hidden. You want more? We already have a sizable collection - every size and shape - and we barely even use them!

I prefer having it once in a while, like a fine vintage - imbibe too much and you lose appreciation for its finer notes. Besides, most of the time I’d much rather be buried inside you.

She choked on her wine at that, a loud sound that would have captured everyone’s attention had they not been engaged in their own conversation. He watched her squirm with deep satisfaction.

You tease!

Astarion hardly recognized the carefree, throaty laugh that escaped him, but he didn’t attempt to stem it. He lifted her hand, stroking her fingers with his own. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her wrist, exhaling through his mouth to let the warm rush of air tickle her flesh. She shivered and her eyes closed as she bit her lip lightly. He chuckled and her eyes snapped open in a playful glare; it merely served to amuse him more. He was certain breaking their fast would be memorable.

There was a small ripple of nervous energy amongst their guests, and he tilted his head, shifting his attention to them.

“-don’t even know if they’d realistically survive doing that.” Gale, engaged in conversation with Karlach, drank deeply from his goblet.

Karlach’s eyes snapped towards Astarion, realizing he was listening to their conversation. She elbowed Gale.

“What? I mean, healing abilities aside, which I’ve personally witnessed…” Gale trailed off to see Astarion’s gaze on him.

The painting in Gale's room. One of their more unusual commissions, a piece depicting Ban feeding from a wound in his chest. He crossed his arms, amused.

Ban had followed her husband’s eyes. “You two taking bets?”

Karlach pointed her fork at Gale. “He said Astarion would die if you two actually did it. And I’m not betting against the wizard.”

Astarion chimed in. “You have personally witnessed me stabbed in the heart, Gale. What gives you the impression I wouldn’t survive a shallower incision?”

“I merely thought… with the size of the wound depicted on it…”

“Never heard of artistic license?” Karlach answered without missing a beat.

Gale’s glare was withering. “I know what artistic license is, Karlach. I was merely wondering if they actually did it to the extent depicted, if at all.”

“I’m not confirming nor denying anything.” Ban’s lips curled in a smile as she said this.

I’m almost tempted to tell him we did, he told her. Her eyes flicked to him.

I don’t need any rumors of me eating your heart-

Astarion shrugged. Suit yourself. I wouldn’t mind everyone thinking us debauched, senseless fools, driven mad with lust for each other. He placed a hand high on her thigh and squeezed. As if that were not true.

“You’re driving me mad,” Ban muttered under her breath, her legs visibly squeezing together.

He drank from his goblet to hide his smirk, caressing her now-tensed thigh in slow, languid strokes. One more day, Ban. I hope you’ll survive it.

For the rest of the evening, the dining room was filled with the sounds of eating, of clanking dishes, of drinks being poured and stories being told. Throughout it all, the sound of laughter reigned supreme.

After everyone else had retired for the night, Astarion led her blindfolded through the palace, hands on her shoulders. “We shall take a left, and a right in twenty paces.”

Ban groaned as her toe stubbed a nearby armchair. “Gods, must it really be this way?”

He’d led her up one of the palace’s staircases, through corridors they rarely passed through, and she kept bumping into things.

“Must? Of course not. However I’ve spent too much time and energy preparing this to merely present it without at least some fanfare. Besides - how many times do I need to decline answering that question?”

“Where are you taking me, then?”

“Ask better questions and I might consider indulging you.”

“If by indulging you mean giving yet another non-answer, no.” She laughed. “You absolute prat, I-”

Her words were swallowed by his mouth seizing hers, his tongue diving between her lips before she could react. She felt his hands slide their way to her ass, squeezing firmly enough to elicit a gasp. He pulled her hips forward, grinding himself against her, and she ached at the feel of his cock, hard and hot, pressing exactly where she wanted him. It was delicious - electric - but before she could lift her hands to tug him closer, he’d already pulled away. She could hear him panting and knew she wasn’t the only one whose self-control hung by a thread, much as he liked to pretend otherwise.

“A little more patience, my love, and you’ll-”

“We’ll,” Ban corrected, smirking.

There was a rustle of cloth as Astarion adjusted himself, then cleared his throat, the snort barely hidden. “Fine. We’ll both be rewarded for our restraint.”

“Not fair,” she whined. “You get to touch me, just like that, get to use your words, and I’m just immediately begging to have you.”

“Let me remind you: this was your punishment.” He returned his hands to her shoulders and continued leading her. “And I have not used the full force of my voice on you in quite some time.”

She noticed an odd somberness in the tone of that last statement. “What do you mean?”

“Turn right here.” He turned her, his hands gentle. He took a breath through his nose. “You seem to be longing for the old days - for those flowery, sultry words - when I could simply… speak, and you’d melt.”

She suspected them to be in the third landing of this particular wing, guessing they were close to the room she theorized he was taking her to. The sudden gust of cold air told her they’d passed by one of the arched windows. “I did notice that you’d stopped, but I didn’t want to… much as I missed it, I thought you might have seen it as performing.”

He stilled, and she stopped. She sensed him move in front of her, then felt his hands slide around her waist and pull her into an embrace.

“Is that so?” he murmured against her ear. “I had assumed you did not want reminders of before, and so I refrained. I recall you admonishing me, telling me to relax. To be clear - I do not mind a certain level of performance; not anymore, and especially not with you. Seduction is by nature, on some level, a performance. But with you it is not a cold, callous thing. Heightening your pleasure could never be cold to me.”

She traced soothing circles on his back, fingers gliding along the muscles she knew so well.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I intended, at all. You stopped doing it after the rite, and well… you never really slipped back into doing it regularly. So whenever you did do it I assumed it was… contrived, that it wasn’t something I should be encouraging or requesting.”

“When I had nothing else to offer you, words were the one thing I could.” She felt him relax into her touch, his chin settling on top of her head.

“When I finally had everything to give, words felt… unnecessary. I did not realize until too late that words were what you missed the most - not merely the sensual persuasion, but those that spoke of my true feelings. With the quagmire our relationship had become,” he huffed, “it felt unwise to bring such talk back into our bedroom. I feared you mourning the past, and you voiced no complaint; that felt like confirmation that I was on the right path.”

She considered his words and found them accurate. She nodded, face huddled against the expanse of bare chest his open shirt exposed.

“I suppose we misunderstood each other. Again.”

“One of a multitude of such instances, yes,” he conceded. “However, like everything else, it can be discussed. So, my love. Do you wish me to…” he leaned in, lips a hairsbreadth from the shell of her ear, his voice lowering to an erotic purr, “whisper sweet words to you, soft words of devotion…” he breathed, a rough, ragged sound, the heat of it sending a wave of fire from her ear to her groin, “pant and gasp and tell you every one of the debauched ways I wish to have you…” his tongue flicked out and ran up the edge of her ear, “moan and whimper your name,” his fingers traced down her neck and across her collarbone, “sigh out every filthy thought that goes through my mind every time I see you, so that you can hear every. single. day. that every inch of my body yearns for you,” he caught her earlobe between his teeth for the briefest moment, “that every moment I’m not buried inside you, filling you with my seed, is a glorious agony only you can assuage…”

She shuddered, barely preventing her knees from buckling; Astarion chuckled, low and deep.

“I can make your name a prayer, sing your praises. Coax you to do anything and everything for me, dearest Ban.” Her name was almost obscene on his lips, velvety voice crooning directly into her ear. She was wet, her legs squeezing together.

He chuckled lightly, his breath hitching on a quiet inhale that cut off in a desperate groan when he caught the scent of her arousal. To her surprise, his mouth devoured hers again. Her arms lifted to wind around his waist, but he captured them, wrapping his strong hands around her wrists.

“Not today, my love,” he whispered, “as much as I want it too.” He pressed his hips against hers, one long, slow, grind, allowing her to feel the truth of his words.

“Fuck,” she managed to groan, pulling away. “Yes. I want that.”

He kissed her cheek. “Tomorrow, I promise. You will be lavished with all the words I’ve longed to give you again. In fact, I trust you will make some small attempt to do the same,” he teased, “although it may be decades, perhaps centuries, before you attain my level of skill.” Ban rolled her eyes, and although he couldn’t see it through the blindfold, he sensed it.

“I’ll come up with something. You’ll see.”

He loosed a quiet snort. After a moment, he resumed leading her down the corridor, and into a room. He closed the door behind them, then led her backwards until the backs of her legs hit what felt like a chair.

“Sit.”

She did as asked, and he reached down to untie her blindfold. “I’m not certain how to say this, other than that I wanted to give you something for our wedding. You’ve planned it to perfection, and this is my way of saying thank you.”

He drew away, and she opened her eyes.

She saw… herself. Slightly more ashen than she was used to, staring at herself askance. It took several long moments to realize what she was looking at. An ornate, gold-gilt rectangular mirror with an arched top. A mirror. She gasped in wonder, eyes tracing over Astarion, who was naturally also reflected in it, grinning from ear to ear.

It took slightly longer to realize what she was seated on. Mostly black, not quite the same style as his, but a throne all the same. She took a moment to find the words, but all that came out was a broken “Astarion…”

He crossed his arms, smiling still. “Meiros had made such a brilliant piece, and I thought its beauty would be wasted if it would never be able to reflect your countenance. I corresponded with Gale, who corresponded with Elminster, and…” he shrugged. “Here it is. In time for you to see yourself properly on our wedding day.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “And th-this?” She ran her hands over the armrests, feeling the intricate carvings.

“Another gift. The initial one, in fact, before I purchased the mirror. You sorely needed one.”

Ban kept her eyes on herself, drinking in everything. “Thank you. For both. I… I love them. But I’d still want to sit on your lap.”

Astarion laughed, a loud, mirthful sound. “I won’t deny you that. Still, you have to admit this sends a much-needed message to the guests at our events.” He approached her and playfully sat on her lap, angling his face towards hers. “You’re to be respected, to be seen as holding the same stature as I. Equals.”

He turned to straddle her, pressing himself close, arms around her neck. “Wouldn’t you say that was a good idea?” He looked back at the mirror, seeing them both. I should have her take me in front of this sometime, he thought. The visuals would no doubt be magnificent…

She nodded, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. She could feel the soft press of his cock against her belly; she desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, her hand lifted before she could think.

“Bad girl,” he said, returning his gaze to her. He took her hand and wrapped it around his waist instead. His eyes, however, were tender. “One more day. I promise you it will be worth the wait.”

He leaned forwards, kissing her softly, unable to keep his hips still. He ground against her, her hand obediently remained where he’d placed it.

Ban moaned, longing to deepen the kiss. She sucked on his lower lip, but he pulled away as soon as she began to nibble.

He stood up, thumb running over his swollen lip absently. They both looked at the tent in his trousers, he with chagrin and she with naked hunger. He quietly adjusted himself.

“Patently clear I’m not the only one suffering,” she said.

A small, amused bark answered her. “You have no idea.”

Bonus: Here’s the art from Gale’s room, commissioned from @kringle-c

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