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decembermidnight · 28 days

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Don't lose your focus

Summary: As a Jedi Padawan fighting during the Clone Wars, you and your Master are used to teaming up with Clones. But none are as intriguing as Clone Force 99 and their leader, Sergeant Hunter. Sparks fly immediately and it's difficult to keep your focus. With the mission complete, perhaps the two of you will finally give in and indulge in your desires...

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!fem!reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Hunter, use of pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting, mentions of alcohol consumption, masculinity kink, voice kink, light choking, hand kink, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm delay, creampie

A/N: This is the result of me watching The Bad Batch while ovulating. This is (probably) not how the Force works but your honour I was horny. Thank you to my dear @thefrogdalorian for the immense help and support! I love you so much! Amazing divider by @saradika-graphics At the end of the fic you'll find the links to some amazing Hunter fanarts I found here on Tumblr! These were such an inspiration when writing and I wanted to thank and credit the artists for creating such amazing pieces!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

Another day, another dangerous mission in the Outer Rim.

Nothing new for you and your Master who are used to leading these missions successfully. The only difference is that this time you'll be assisted by Experimental Unit Clone Force 99. It’s the first time you even heard about them, but your superiors assured you they’re best suited for this job. A highly-skilled squad of defective clones with desirable mutations? Sounds interesting.

Apparently, The Bad Batch, as they call themselves, despise rules and protocol and adopt unusual methods to get the job done… Much like you and your Master.

Their ship has just made a bumpy landing on the field, causing a fuss. You watch curiously as the squad descends the ramp. There are four of them, and they undoubtedly look badass in their black armour.

The first one – their leader, you assume – removes his helmet and... damn. Damn. He's hot, with a confident look in his deep brown eyes. He also has long, wavy, dark hair; a feature which has always been a weakness of yours. His face is half covered in a tattoo that resembles a skeleton. He's undoubtedly the most charming of the Batch, and also the most attractive clone you’ve ever come across.

“I’m Sergeant Hunter,” he rasps as he greets you and your Master. His voice is deep and husky, very different from those of all the other clones you’ve met so far.

After introducing himself, Hunter moves to quickly describe the peculiarities that make each of the members of the team unique. As you stand back to observe them, you can’t help thinking just how much fun they are. Wrecker (the strong one) is getting reluctantly lectured by Tech (the smart one) while Crosshair (the laconic and lethal sniper) stands there in silence. He reminds you of your Master so much.

As much as you enjoy observing the rest of the squad, you find your gaze returns to Hunter, the clone with enhanced senses. You are unable to tear your eyes away from him. You know you have to keep it together, but you can’t help eating him with your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his body, on the way his pauldrons make his shoulders even broader, how much the black colour of his armour suits him.

You have just begun fantasising about the way his strong body would look without the armour when you notice Hunter staring directly at you. Busted. You lock eyes for a few seconds and you just know that he understands the nature of the thoughts you’re having about him. Then, your pounding heart skips a beat when Hunter winks at you. It is a split-second gesture that is over so quickly amidst the chaos of the conversation, a little secret between the two of you. You smile flirtatiously at him in response.

The whole group begins heading towards their ship, The Marauder. While the rest of the Batch and your Master head up the ramp towards the ship that will take you to the rendezvous point, you and Hunter pause at the bottom.

“I’m afraid I haven’t caught your name, sweetheart?” Hunter asks, breaking the silence with his deep, raspy voice.

"I am a Jedi, not a sweetheart," you point out teasingly and look at him with crossed arms, trying to sound tough.

"A Padawan," he reminds you with a smirk on his face.

You watch curiously as Hunter takes your braid – the unmistakable sign of your rank as an apprentice – between his fingers. He gently rolls it between his gloved finger and thumb contemplatively as his brown eyes meet your gaze once again.

"I technically outrank you, Sergeant," you say, challenging him.

"You do, Commander," Hunter nods, but makes no effort to move his hand away from your braid, or to interrupt eye contact.

Hunter can tell that you don’t mind the gesture. As if to push the boundaries further, he moves his hand from your braid to gently place it on your cheek. The leather of his glove feels soft against your face. You are stunned that a seasoned soldier such as him can actually be so gentle in the way he touches you.

You can feel the tension coming from the two of you, a simmering fire somewhere deep within. It's only a matter of time before it boils over. You look at each other straight in the eyes, neither one of you daring to look away.

Just as you're about to tease him with yet another witty reply, you hear the sound of footsteps at the top of the ramp.

"Hey, Hunter, are you gonna come with us or what?!" Wrecker shouts, abruptly interrupting your shameless flirting.

"On my way," Hunter replies, without breaking eye contact with you.

His intense gaze lingers on you for a few more seconds before he looks at you apologetically and turns to head up to the ramp and onto the Marauder.

As soon as Hunter turns away from you, you realise just how hard your heart is thundering in your chest. His gaze was so intense that it made you forget to breathe properly. So much for the Jedi breathing techniques. It turns out if there is a handsome man with dark eyes flirting with you, they lose all effectiveness. You take a deep breath, filling your burning lungs with oxygen.

When you enter the ship, you are still trembling. As you take a seat next to your Master, you try to ignore his accusatory glare. You feel his eyes burning into your soul as the guilt threatens to overwhelm you, even though nothing too scandalous happened.

As the Marauder enters hyperspace, your Master takes a seat on the cold metallic floor in an isolated area of the ship. Meditating before battle is a ritual he always follows and you immediately join him. It can help you shift your focus back to where it should be – on the mission. Only, you can't focus.

Instead of your mind becoming one with the Force, you're highly attuned to the actions of the members of the squad. It is as though you can see them as if you were standing before them: Tech studying the holo-maps, Crosshair cleaning his sniper rifle, Wrecker taking a nap, and of course, Hunter. He is mindlessly playing with his vibroknife as he slouches on a crate.

You are entranced by the way his fingers move across the handle and the blade. Maker, the movement of his hand and fingers – you can't focus on anything else as he makes the knife masterfully swirl between them. There's something so erotic about the way he plays with it. Your mind wanders to think about his hands roaming on your body, slipping between your thighs, skillfully rubbing your clit. You fantasise about how quickly Hunter would make you come, how hard your orgasm would be as it tore through you, leaving you a trembling wreck.

Your focus then goes to his muscular thighs. Hunter’s legs are spread wide and he looks so effortlessly masculine. The aura of confidence he radiates as he comfortably sits there, taking up the entire crate as he lounges on top of it, gives you even more thoughts that are unbecoming of a Padawan. It makes you almost dizzy with want as you think about how much you want to straddle him and ride him into ecstasy.

“Are you done?” your Master’s cold voice interrupts your filthy train of thought with a brief and concise message through the Force.

He heard your thoughts. Each and every single one. Your Master caught you red-handed. How embarrassing.

You are too mortified to even mumble an apology, through the Force or otherwise. Instead, you sit there wishing you could be anywhere else in the galaxy as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and pull your hood up to hide your flustered face in your cape.

Luckily, before the awkward moment can continue for any longer, Tech announces the imminent jump out of hyperspace. You still cannot bear to make eye contact with your Master, shrinking into your blessedly baggy cape as you begin the descent into the planet’s atmosphere...

The mission was a success – you and your Master worked your magic with the precious support of Clone Force 99. What seemed like a desperate operation, turned out to be an extremely important victory for the Republic. Training with your Master has been so hard, but damn did that pay off. You slayed all your enemies elegantly and effortlessly, just like he taught you. The whole Bad Batch congratulated you two. Wrecker was especially impressed, electing the two of you as his favourite Jedi. What an honour. Hunter also invited you and your Master to celebrate the victory by having a drink all together in a cantina.

Just as you’re about to enter the cantina and join the Bad Batch, your Master calls your name. You stop in your tracks, scared that he might reprimand you for the way you acted today. You begin panicking and thinking back to what happened in guilt…

When you and your Master had taken off your heavy capes before engaging in battle, you noticed Hunter couldn't keep his eyes off you. You were wearing a skin-tight dark suit, after all.

It was a fact you decided to exploit after Hunter had given his squad their orders for the mission. You walked away swaying your hips, making sure you gave him a great opportunity to look at your ass. You remember how you could feel his eyes glued to it. You could also feel his desire for you. It was impossible for him to hide; it permeated him, radiated from him. Maker, you love making him crumble.

You think back to the way Crosshair rasped, "Hunter, don't lose your focus.” You are certain that is what your Master is about to scold you for.

Instead, you watch in shock as a half smile appears on your Master’s face, something you don't see very often.

“You did good today. I’m proud of you,” he nods.

Since when does your Master pay you compliments like this?

“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, caught off-guard by how unexpected his praise is.

“You fulfilled your duties as a Jedi. Now, go and have your fun.”

You don’t have time to respond before he turns on his heel and walks away, cape billowing in the breeze. You know your Master doesn’t often like to stick around after missions, often needing some quiet time to himself to decompress and meditate. You let him go, knowing that he will find his way back to the Marauder before it departs, as he always does.

As you step into the Cantina, a smile spreads on your face when you notice the Bad Batch sitting at a table with a full flagon of booze and an empty seat for you to toast your success. You and Hunter lock eyes again as he invites you to sit in that spot close to him.

Hunter loses no time in placing his arm around your shoulders while smiling at you. You lean into his embrace, feeling comforted and protected. The warm presence of his arm around you makes you smile contentedly. It feels so good to let the guard down for once, especially if you're in the arms of a handsome, strong and charming man such as Hunter.

As the night goes on, the three other members of The Bad Batch keep conversing with each other, giving you and Hunter the opportunity to speak privately. It’s as though the background noise fades out. You don't even bother focusing on the discourse the others are having. It’s just you and Hunter flirting shamelessly now.

“You know, I've never seen a ship like yours. I wish I had time to properly explore it... Thoroughly," you flirt with him while draining the last few dregs in your flagon.

"Want me to give you a tour, sweetheart?" he says with a smile on his face, perfectly understanding your intentions.

"Would be cool, yeah," you reply.

Hunter offers you his hand and you gladly accept it with a mischievous smile.

Just as you stand, you feel the alcohol has definitely kicked in. You’re not drunk though, just a little bit tipsy, enough to make you brave and go get exactly what you want.

As soon as you and Hunter get out of the cantina and find yourselves alone in the dark alley, you both give into the instincts you tried to suppress all day long. Hunter pins you to the wall as you pull him closer at the same time, until you join in a passionate, longing kiss.

You welcome his tongue in your mouth as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His touch and the way he kisses you are so confident that you clench around nothing, holding him tighter as you moan in his mouth. Maker, you want him. His whole body jolts when he feels that, pinning you harder against the wall, mentally cursing the armour that is preventing him from feeling the softness of your body against his.

He stops kissing you just so he can look at how stunning you are under the moonlight, hot and flustered after that first, heavy session of making out.

"Look at you. So beautiful," he whispers as he cups your face with his hand, the other one still lingering around your waist. Hunter is treating you like the most precious thing in the galaxy now that he can finally have you all for himself. You lean into his gentle touch as he takes in all the features of your face, especially the way your eyes glimmer with admiration and arousal for him.

You look at his deep, dark and expressive brown eyes and the strong, masculine features of his face that make you throb with need. Your hand caresses his cheek, following the lines of his skeleton tattoo and the contour of his chiseled jaw. He observes you as a sweet smile appears on your face, making you look irresistible and drawing his lips closer to yours once again…

"Hey! Where's Hunter?!" you hear Wrecker shout from inside of the tavern, just as your lips are mere inches apart.

You and Hunter both laugh as you resume the kissing. It's like the whole galaxy stops existing. For a soldier who has seen nothing but war, his kisses are to die for. Your tongues twirl in each other's mouths and it's like his greedy lips can't ever get enough of yours. His mouth is hot like a damn furnace as he takes all the time in the galaxy to worship you with his lips, letting his hands wander throughout your body. You're getting soaked already, feeling your arousal slowly dripping down your legs as a throbbing need pulsates between your thighs. You moan in his mouth as you dig your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is getting deeper and more passionate as you go on.

Hunter's lips start to trail down to your neck, making you sigh deeply as he covers it in kisses. Your scent drives him wild. He can smell your pheromones, feeling you're unmistakably full of desire. He can't resist and just gives a swift lick from the base of your neck to your ear that makes you sharply stifle a gasp, arching your back and tightening your grip on his hair.

"Let's go to the Marauder, shall we?" he rasps in your ear, a voice full of lust that gives you goosebumps.

"Y-yes…" you stutter, feeling light-headed with arousal and being incapable of hiding it.

He offers you his hand as you enter the ship. The two of you cut a clumsy path through the Marauder towards Hunter’s bunk, frequently taking breaks where Hunter desperately pushes you against the cool steel walls of the ship, your arms clinging tight to his shoulders and his face buried in your neck.

"Maker... Take off your armour," you plead as his teeth dig into your delicate skin like a feral beast would do with his prey.

He does, letting each piece fall to the ground as you go on kissing each other, leaving a trail of armour pieces on the floor as you slowly make your way towards his bunk. He looks stunning with just his tight black suit on. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his pectorals stand out, highlighted by the tightness of the suit and grope the strong muscles of his biceps. Oh, fuck. How much do you love a man. Tall, muscular, strong, confident, with dark eyes and a head full of long, wavy hair. A Man.

You moan in his mouth when you feel his thick biceps flexing under your touch. A smile forms on his lips as he feels how much you like this. As his arms wrap around your body, yours go in his hair. Maker, how safe do you feel in his arms. It's such an innate instinct – wanting to be held in the arms of a strong man, surrendering and trusting him, something that usually you would never be permitted to do in your life as a Jedi.

You can feel his erection against your lower belly, straining against his extremely thin black suit. His fingers hook in the hem of your pants, yanking them down over your ass, exposing your drenched cunt as he sits you down in his bunk.

He kneels before you, taking your boots and pants off and spreads your legs, his dark eyes looking into yours as a smirk appears on his face.

"Hunter–" you sigh.

"Wanna get you nice and ready for me, sweetheart," he coos as he starts to kiss your inner thigh.

The vision makes you tremble with lust and your hands helplessly clench into fists in a desperate attempt to grab the material under you to keep you steady. Your legs shake but he keeps them steady in his strong arms. He goes on trailing kisses on your inner thighs without ever stopping looking at you. He's taking his time with it, wanting to enjoy the way your whole body is throbbing with need. Your breathing gets more and more shallow as his mouth gets closer to where you want him the most.

You lift your gaze from Hunter’s dark brown eyes, shutting your eyes for a mere fraction of a second, trying to alleviate the aching need you feel. Hunter chooses that moment to finally give you what you need. With a quick lick to your clit, your whole body jerks into his touch and a whimper escapes from your lips.

Hunter smirks up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards in a smug, satisfied look. Then, he proceeds to bury his face between your legs and masterfully lick your swollen clit. His tongue brings you so much pleasure that your back arches involuntarily, pushing yourself further into his mouth. You moan his name and grab a handful of his long, thick hair. He purrs in your cunt when you entangle your fingers in his hair and you notice how his grip on your legs becomes tighter.

"Oh... Oh fuck!" you exclaim in ecstasy, barely able to form words.

One of his hands releases its grasp on your legs, which he has been using to keep you spread open for him. You throw your head back gasping as he slowly slides two of his thick fingers inside you.

"So tight," he growls with a smirk on his face.

Hunter pumps his fingers inside of you, slowly increasing the rhythm, ensuring that you’re stretched out for him. It is a motion that brings you so much pleasure you wonder how it could possibly get better. Your whole body jerks in pure bliss under his touch. He enjoys looking at you like this, you can see it from how darkened his eyes are with lust.

For a brief second, his fingers and mouth leave your cunt, leaving you devastatingly empty. You watch in awe as Hunter sticks them in his mouth, without breaking eye contact with you. He sucks on his fingers, humming while closing his eyes to savor your taste from places where his tongue can’t reach.

"You taste so good, sweetheart," he rasps as he resumes fucking you with his fingers.

He watches you contort under him, moaning and begging for him to return his skillful mouth between your thighs. Your hips thrust up and down right in front of his face. You are shamelessly fucking yourself on his fingers, inviting him to bury his face back in your folds. You desperately bury your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

"Damn, you're so beautiful like this," he says before his mouth goes back exactly where you wanted.

Then, Hunter does something absolutely devastating. While he continues licking your clit, he starts sucking it gently, all as he continues pumping his thick fingers inside of you. Hunter wants to draw an orgasm from you, his actions becoming more and more frantic as you grow closer to your climax. He can feel by the irregular way you breathe and shake that you're close.

"Yes. Yes. Like this. Let go, sweetheart," he encourages you.

It's only a matter of seconds before you come, writhing under him. Your legs are wrapped around his head, squishing it. You scream his name so loud it echoes in the Marauder. Hunter is pleased as he looks at your blissed-out expression and feels your cunt clamping around his fingers. Your back arches as you ride your orgasm, pushing yourself further into his tongue so you can feel him licking you through your orgasm. Hunter purrs into your cunt, loving the way you let go around him. He loves how his face is getting soaked in your arousal, so addicted to the way you taste.

Hunter holds you steady as your orgasm fades out. When you regain your senses, you slowly release your grip on his hair. Only then he props himself up and slowly unzips his suit, showing you the beautiful golden skin underneath. A warm contrast under the black, tight layer.

The dark hairs on his chest are perfectly trimmed, accentuating each of his toned muscles and the tattoos which decorate his thick, masculine body. Your gaze is locked on his hand trailing down his abdomen, his muscles rippling as he approaches the hem of his pants.

You shamelessly look at the bulge in his dark suit, a sight that makes your mouth water. Hunter’s lips curve into a smirk once again, noticing that you like what you see. The smug look on his face makes you throb with need once again, despite the fact that he just gave you an intense orgasm.

He hooks his thumb in the hem of his pants, watching intently for your reaction as he slowly pulls the material down to reveal the trimmed, dark hairs around the base of his thick cock.

Hunter notices the intense way you look at it and hears the whimper you just tried to suppress in your throat. He can feel your heart rate going up. It makes him smirk confidently as he goes on, finally freeing his hard, thick cock. You gulp while looking at it, as he uses the same fingers he had buried in you to cover it in your arousal. He gives it a few, firm strokes to ensure it’s nice and wet for you. The mere vision of it makes you bite your lip to muffle another impatient whimper.

Then he is on you, peeling your shirt away from your quivering body, rejoicing when he can finally touch it and worship it with his mouth. Hunter trails kisses across your collarbones and down towards your breasts. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive flesh there, before softly biting your nipples. You gasp when you feel his erection hard against your cunt. He starts to thrust his hips against yours so his cock can rub against your drenched core, getting it soaked in your juices. Your mind turns completely blank at that, heart thundering in your chest as his hands roam across your body.

Hunter aligns himself to your entrance, groaning as his cock slowly makes its way inside of you. You admire his restraint. You know how much he probably wants to take you with one thrust, but instead he is being so gentle and careful with you, making sure that you are well-adjusted to his size.

He takes your jaw in his hand, looking deep inside your eyes as his thick cock stretches you open. You struggle to keep eye contact with him, unlike earlier when you were flirting with him. Now, your eyes only want to roll backwards. The pleasure you feel as he splits you open is overwhelming your body and senses.

You pathetically try to mumble some incoherencies, but he's quick to shut you up with a kiss. Hunter growls low in his throat when he feels your walls desperately clenching around him, as he buries himself into you to the hilt.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good," he rasps, almost desperately before giving you another wet kiss. Then, he raises his hips only to bury his cock deep inside you, making you moan into his mouth.

"How – how can you feel so fucking good?" he whimpers.

Hunter’s large hands gently cup your face, as he continues placing passionate kisses against your lips while thrusting into you. You notice his kisses become more desperate as he slowly increases the rhythm. As Hunter picks up the pace, he buries his face in your neck, panting low in your ear.

You are certain that he can’t go any faster, before he proves you wrong. He increases the pace to a brutal rhythm, fucking you so hard you start screaming.

"So loud,” he rasps, “They're gonna hear us in the Cantina."

"Then make me shut up," you whisper daringly.

A blaze of lust glimmers in his eyes as you lay down that challenge. Something shifts inside of him as he gives you a feral, animalistic look. Hunter quickly covers your mouth with his hand, showing you his more dominant, commanding side which makes you clamp tightly around his cock.

"Oh, you like this," he smirks, satisfied that this is precisely what you wanted all along.

You nod frantically. There is no use hiding how much this turns you on. Despite how much Hunter shows care towards you, you suspect there is something darker which lingers below the surface. You want to draw it out of him.

"What else do you like, hm?" he coos as he wraps his other hand around your throat, lightly choking you, his thumb rubbing your throat possessively.

The sight of you, looking so vulnerable under him as he can finally dominate you makes him frantic with lust. Gone are the measured thrusts and even rhythm of before. Something feral has overtaken Hunter, a desperate need to claim you. He continues silencing your moans with one hand around your throat and one across your mouth, muffling your gasps as he wrecks you with his cock.

Having Hunter's hand muffling your own moans gives you the opportunity to hear his desperate grunts and pants as they mix with the obscene, squelching sound his cock makes each time he thrusts into you. You close your eyes in bliss, enjoying this moment of pure pleasure.

"Can't keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart? Look at me with those pretty fucking eyes," he growls.

You can't help but whimper at that, at how authoritative he sounds. The Sergeant of The Bad Batch is dominating the fuck out of you. You are a moaning, gasping mess beneath him, unable to think about anything other than how good being furiously pounded by him feels.

"I didn't catch that,” Hunter rasps as he slowly lifts his hand from your mouth. He leans down to put his ear against your mouth “What were you saying, sweetheart?"

"L-let me – fuck!” you gasp, too blissed out to form words.

“Use your words,” Hunter commands, slowing his thrusts down so you can finally speak.

“Let me touch you!" you beg, unable to care about how desperate and pathetic you sound. All you can think about is roaming your hands around the warm, firm expanse of his body.

Hunter smirks, intrigued by your request, only too happy to oblige you. He grabs your hand roughly by the wrist and positions it over his abdomen. You can feel his muscles flexing and contracting under your touch as he thrusts into you. His body is as hard as iron and on fire like a damn furnace, burning with lust.

"Maker…" you whisper.

You let your hand trail up to his firm chest. You grope his pectorals, appreciating the firmness of his muscles. Your cunt clenches around his cock at the sight of your hand against his golden skin. A smirk appears on his face, enjoying what he does to you.

Your hand goes up to his broad shoulder, rubbing over it before you move your hand towards his back. You feel how his muscles strain there with each thrust as he continues pounding into you at a relentless pace. Both of your hands are now caressing his back, feeling every single dimple under your fingertips. Just as you try pulling him close, he starts to give it to you even harder. You scratch your fingernails along his back. You watch in awe as Hunter moans in your mouth at that.

"Could–could fucking smell how much you wanted me earlier. You distracted me the whole time. Couldn't think of anything else besides how good you'd look with my cock inside of you,” he rasps in your neck before biting you, growling wildly as he does. “I was so fucking hard for you, sweetheart," Hunter grunts.

He's so feral for you, fucking you so hard. You can't even mumble a response.

"Smell so good – so fucking good–" he whispers in your ear.

"D-don't s–stop," you mumble in your cockdrunk delirium.

"I can't, sweetheart. This cunt's all I ever wanted,” he growls, “Gonna make you mine. Mine."

"Oh, fuck… Yes," you pant as he props himself up, kneeling in front of you without stopping that devastating rhythm for even half a second.

He looks at your body, at the way your boobs bounce with each thrust as he gives it go you even harder, holding on tight to your legs, using them as leverage to bury himself even deeper inside of you. Seeing him like this makes you remember just how badly you wanted to ride his cock earlier.

"Hunter. Hunter. I want to ride you," you whimper.

"Is that an order, Commander?"

"Y–yes. Yes. Order. S–s-sergeant," you mindlessly go on as he keeps thrusting his cock inside of you.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock makes him throb. In an instant, Hunter lifts you in his arms as if you were weightless and makes you straddle him. He sits with his back against the wall of the bunk. His hands are on your waist and you immediately start rocking your hips up and down, giving into your fantasy from earlier.

"Such a good soldier… So good at following orders," you whisper against his lips.

"Yeah… Sometimes," he smirks before gripping your hair and stealing another wet, hot kiss that makes you melt into him even further.

Your head rolls back in pleasure at the way his cock feels from this position. It's devastating, hitting something deep within you. You almost lose yourself in that feeling, but Hunter won’t allow you to. Even though you are on top of him, Hunter is quick to remind you who’s in charge as he takes your jaw in his hand.

"Eyes on me," he orders firmly.

"Yes, Sergeant," you moan.

You swear you feel him throbbing and choke a grunt when he hears the sensual way you pronounce his title. Clearly, using his rank in this context has done something to Hunter. He moves his thumb between your lips and you suck it provocatively, never stopping yourself from meeting his gaze. Hunter’s pupils widen at the sinful way your lips envelop his finger and your tongue gently touches it. His eyes take into your sensual, precious beauty, before bringing you to him and kissing you again.

Your bodies are damp in sweat and rubbing against one another. Your nipples deliciously catch against his hairy, broad chest. You continue moaning into each other's mouths; your tongues never stop touching.

"Hunter, I'm gonna come–" you whimper.

"Hold it for me, sweetheart," he rasps in a sweet, yet dark voice, having the opposite effect from what he intended.

"Please, I want to come on your cock," you plead desperately.

"Not yet," he smirks.

Hunter grabs your hips and guides your movements so that your clit starts to rub against his pelvis. You let out a loud moan as you hold on to him tighter, digging your nails in his shoulders.

"I can't hold it!" you scream with your eyes shut.

He grabs your chin in his hand, clearly uninterested in your desperate appeals.

"Look at me," he says firmly as you open your eyes. Your vision is too blurry to focus on him but you try nonetheless.

"Now come for me, sweetheart," he rasps darkly.

You obey his order and come hard around his cock. An overwhelming, intense wave of pleasure starts at your core and completely takes over your body. You’re wrecked by uncontrollable shakes as Hunter holds you in his strong arms. You scream and pant as you ride your high. Your eyes roll backwards while Hunter focuses on how beautiful you look when you lose control. Especially when he is the one responsible for it.

Hunter feels your heart running in your chest and every single contraction of your muscles around his cock. The unmistakable, heady scent of sex that fills the Marauder drives him insane, making him burst inside of you. He grunts loudly as he fills you up with his load, holding you tight in his grasp.

You moan in each other's mouths, your forehead leaning on his as you look into each other’s eyes. You never leave each other’s gaze as you both give into the highest of pleasure.

As you come down from your high, your rhythm slows down until it stops completely. Your bodies are intertwined like vines, naked and sweaty as you catch breath in each other’s embrace.

You really do make a great team, after all.

Fanarts: Hunter's back + Shirtless Hunter by @mesvi Hello handsome by @corukant Wet Hunter by @iszapizza Hunter under the shower by @shakall Hunter and his vibroknife by @ve-ti-ver Hunter under the shower by @cloned-eyes Hunter taking off his shirt + Tech by @constant-brain-fog Hunter taking a shower by kaijurave (on twitter/x)

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see-the-fandom-imagines · 1 year

Text

What’s in it for me?

Chapter 3/?

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Pairing: Kyouya Ootori x Reader Author: see-the-fandom-imagines Warnings: None at all. Word Count: 3224 A/N: Next chapter! As explained before I didn’t 100% follow the anime, I also got inspiration from the live action and/or just made up a few things. Hope you still like it~ Let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming parts!

The next day you entered the club and the first thing you noticed was that Renge was already there. You groaned and rolled your eyes, you really didn’t feel like putting up with her. Immediately, you started to feel a little bad. She hadn’t done anything to you and yet here you were thinking so negatively about her. Maybe you should give her another chance. “Hey”, you greeted Haruhi and she greeted back. “What did I miss?” “Not much”, she said, “I also just got in, but I feel like they’re up to something.” She pointed at the other hosts standing in a bulk, whispering, and now you saw it, too. Oh-oh. And indeed, it didn’t take long until Tamaki got swept away again, raising his voice loud enough that you could hear him from your position. “So, if Haruhi has a girlfriend around, it could bring out the female within her. Renge's girlish air of tenderness might be able to stimulate Haruhi's own sense of femininity!”, you heard him yell. Haruhi exhaled exasperatedly next to you. “Now is our chance to help Haruhi get in touch with her feminine side! This is an important project, men. She doesn't have any friends in class right now except for these two shady twins. That's no good for her." “Hey, what about me?” You had stepped closer to them and put your hands on your hips. The slight feeling of jealousy was back and your decision to give Renge another chance began to falter. But the hosts barely reacted to your protest. “Well, you’re not really girly either”, Hikaru claimed, shrugging, turning back to the rest of the hosts. “Hey!” Now you were really upset. “You can’t just replace me like that!” Immediately, everybody stared at you, surprised about your emotional outburst, so you quickly talked on, trying to make the whole situation less awkward. “Haruhi has a girlfriend and it doesn’t matter if we play sports or bake cookies, it…” “Yes!”, Renge suddenly exclaimed. “I would like to make some sweets for Kyoya-sama.” Oh no, you had given her ideas. Without missing a beat Kyouya, who had kept in the background until this moment, stepped forward, happy about being able to stop the other hosts scheming and clapped his hands together, giving her a sweet smile. “What an honour that is for me!” He then turned around almost seamlessly, his smile vanished as he was looking at Haruhi and you and his usual serious self protruded. “Isn’t that right, Haruhi? (Y/n)?” You smiled back just as sweetly fake as he had before, but Haruhi stepped past you. “But we’ll have to get permission to use the home economics room, borrow the key…” Haruhi was just as motivated to do this as you were. At least you weren’t alone, but of course, that didn’t stop Kyouya. He stepped between you, placing a hand on Haruhi’s shoulder, talking in a low voice and facing you directly, so that Renge couldn’t see his expression. “I have the key”, he whispered. “What?”, Haruhi exclaimed, while you tried to figure out what this guy wasn’t capable of. “I thought something like this might happen, so I made a copy of every key in the school.” With these words and a superior smile, he pulled out a key ring full of keys out of his pocket. Your eyes widened and for a second you forgot that you were mad at him. This guy was truly something. “Cool”, you whispered, but cleared your throat immediately, not ready to give Kyouya that satisfaction, although you were almost sure he had heard you. Haruhi didn’t seem so happy about it.

Soon, you, Renge and Haruhi stood in the home economics room, wearing aprons and trying to teach Renge how to bake cookies. Still sulking, you kneaded your dough, still mad at the girl from France, who kept burning everything she touched. You knew you should have helped Haruhi saving Renge from her own mistakes, but somehow you weren’t in the mood. Suddenly, a movement caught your eye. Right there in the door you spotted all the hosts, given, minus Kyoya, fawning over the view. What did they think they were doing? You approached the door and no one seemed to notice you, except for Mori, who immediately hid behind the door, but it was too late, you already stood in front of them, raising an eyebrow. You cleared your throat and they all looked up at you at the same time. “I am going to close the door now” you said in cold voice, shutting it in their face to finish baking the cookies in peace. The audacity these guys had inbetween.

An excruciating hour later you walked back into the club, carrying your cookies. Renge went first, then Haruhi and you followed silently, still sulking. You would give these to your aunt later you thought. She deserved a treat. Tamaki was on one of his rants but got stopped immediately by Renge waltzing through. “You’re talking too much, Fake King", she said coldly, without even looking at Tamaki. In every other situation you would have smiled, but that feeling quickly disappeared, when she made her way directly over to Kyouya with her cookies, holding them out to him. “Kyouya-sama”, she caught his attention. You grumbled and placed down your cookies on a table, refusing to watch him suck up to her. “Haruhi-kun and (y/n) have shown me how to make commoners’ cookies.” “How marvelous”, he exclaimed happily. “How marvelous”, you mimicked him, making the twins chuckle. Kyouya acted like he hadn’t heard it, but you noticed his eyebrow twitch ever so slightly. You decided to see this as a win.

Of course where there were cookies, there was Honey. Sweetly he made his way over to Renge. “Can I have a bite?”, he asked with big eyes and looked at the cookies. Immediately, his smile faltered. They were absolutely burnt. “Yours look better”, Kaoru noticed, sitting down next to you and taking one from you. Hikaru took one, as well, placing it into your mouth, before raising your chin with his hand, and biting off the other half. “You still have some crumbles on your face”, Kaoru added, carefully licking off the crumbles of your face. You turned slightly red at the proximity, but couldn’t react, because you heard Kyouya clear his throat, making the twins grin up at him. Why did this feel like a plan? He stepped over to your little group. “Please, don’t forget how important her family relations are to me”, he said, looking at all three in a reprimanding fashion. You rolled your eyes. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s what’s bothering you”, Hikaru said, slipping off the couch and stepping in front of Kyouya. “Or is it…”, Kaoru started, also getting up, but couldn’t finish his sentence, as he was interrupted by Renge’s loud voice. “You are all too tepid!” The entire host club stopped in their movement. “Every single one of you! Except for Kyouya, all of your characters are lukewarm!” Everybody just stared at her for a while, unsure about how to handle the situation. Your eyes flickered to Kyouya. “Each of you needs to have some sort of dark side, you understand? Girls are vulnerable to handsome young men who are troubled! If you keep carrying on like this it's only a matter of time before the girls get tired of you and stop coming altogether! Are you trying to ruin my precious Kyouya’s business?!” “Business?”, Mori’s dark voice rang out and you shot him a surprised glance. You could hear the hurt in his voice as she suggested that the club was nothing more than a business to him. Mori caught your glance and you tried to tell him with your eyes that you understood. He smiled weakly, and for a second you two bonded without words over the ridiculousness of the situation. But Renge didn’t even care. “As your manager it's my duty to change your character backgrounds! Let’s start with you!” She pointed to Honey. One by one, she went through the hosts. And you felt really bad for them. Whatever movie she was in, she needed to get back to reality. Sighing you leant back in your seat, waiting for her to finish. At least she wouldn’t talk about - “You!” You pointed at your face. “Me?” “You’re the Cinderella of the club!” “The what now?” Confused you looked around the room, but everybody was busy accepting their own new role. “You work hard, every day, being mistreated by the members, when all you want is a rich knight in shining armour.” You took a deep breath, trying not to yell at her, shooting Kyouya a glance that said “if I murder her, it’s her own fault.” You could see a smile appear on his face. A real smile. Not the fake one he had worn the entire time since that girl had appeared. Your eyes widened a little in surprise and your heart beat a little faster. He noticed your sudden surprise and his expression changed to confusion. But you didn't have time or the will to react to this, so instead you tried to collect your thoughts and put your attention on the person in the room you were actually mad at. “So I am the shallow rival?”, you asked almost sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at her, but again she didn’t even listen to you. “A rival in a dramatic love triangle!” Renge continued, grabbing your arm and pulling you next to Kyouya. “You fell in love with my beloved Kyouya, cause how could it be different!” A dark blush crept onto your face. Out of anger or embarrassment you didn’t know. “I’d never –“ you tried to stop her, but she was waltzing over you. “Kyouya-sama, however, has only eyes for his fiancé. Me. Meanwhile, Mori…”, now she grabbed his arm, pulling him on your other side, “…is deeply in love with you.” “That’s not how a love triangle works”, you chimed in, trying one last time to stop her, but she ignored you. “That’s right”, the twins appeared on your sides again. “Now if she would like me”, Hikaru started, tilting your chin up to his face, “but I would be in love with her”, Kaoru tilted your head towards him. Your noses were almost touching. “That would be a love triangle.” “Oh yes!”, Renge shouted, “that is genius!” “Why would you give her ideas?”, you sighed and saw that the twins at least also were embarrassed. They had backed off a bit, but both kept an arm dangling over your shoulders. “We don’t know.”

A few minutes later, Renge had not necessarily calmed down, but at least she was busy making some phone calls to whoever, so you got a bit of peace. You had sat back down at the table you had placed your cookies on to get a bit of rest after that whole ordeal. It was almost time for you to go home, anyways. Carefully, you began wrapping them, when Kyouya stepped next to you, but you didn’t even give him the time to lecture you. “Do I really have to be a part of this?”, you sighed instead. He eyed Renge from the corners of his eyes, while he grabbed on of your cookies. “Hey!” You wanted to protest, but there was no use. “Do I need to remind you …”, he began speaking, that fake smile back on his face, he wore whenever she was looking at him. You rolled your eyes and didn't even let him finish his sentence. “Fine”, you interrupted him, “I’ll do it”, you said, focusing on wrapping your cookies. “But can you stop acting like that, then, please?” Surprised, Kyouya dropped his smile. “Like what?” He tried to keep his composure. “All those fake smiles and such when you’re talking to me.” You avoided his gaze and focused on your cookies. “That’s not you and I am not one of the girls you need to impress.” You looked up, but couldn’t look him in the eye. “I like you more, when you’re yourself.” With these words you got up and left the room. Kyouya looked after you, thinking, biting off a piece of the cookie he had taken from you earlier.

---

Mori stood in front of you. Your gaze went over to Kyouya who stood behind the camera. “Don't be ridiculous, Takashi”, you sneered. “In comparison to everybody else here your family business earns mere peanuts.” You hated yourself for saying these words. Who had written this dialogue again? “You are nothing but the watchdog for…”, you kept on talking, when you suddenly felt Mori’s strong arms around you, pressing you tightly against his chest. Good for the twins, bad for you, Renge had decided that the twins were better off on their own so here you were now. You stiffened, according to the script, waiting for the hug to end. You did feel a little safer in his embrace, though, at least this way you could ignore the three cameras pointed at you. Mori always had something calming about him and you allowed yourself to relax for a second, before whispering “sorry” in a hushed voice that only he would be able to hear, before you pushed him away rather harshly. “You’re nothing to me. I could never love you.” Gosh, this was so not you. Why were you part of this again? But then your gaze found Haruhi behind the camera, who was talking to Tamaki, and you remembered. Ah, right. You focused back on the scene and on Mori who now knelt before you. He actually seemed a little hurt by your words. He was definitely a good actor that much you had to give him. When he spoke his voice was dark and soft as usual. “I can make you happy.” For some reason these words let your heart beat a bit faster, as you looked at the older host and you started to stammer. “Cut, cut, cut!”, Renge yelled, and you shook your head. “Sorry”, you apologized, more to Mori than to her. “I think I just need a break.”

You stepped over to Kyoya, who was scribbling something in his notebook again. “And? Happy with what you’re seeing?” He stopped writing for a second, not seeming to understand what you were saying. “I don’t know what you mean.” He avoided eye contact. Did he think … “Oh!”, you quickly exclaimed, “not that scene. No… I just assumed you are mostly accepting this behaviour because you need new material for your photo books.” He smirked and began to write again. “I really have underestimated you”, he said and you weren’t sure if you should feel insulted or happy about the compliment. You were just about to reply something, when Renge called you over for take two.

-----

You ran towards the commotion, worried about your friend. The twins had run over to you and told you what had happened and you immediately followed them back to the schene. When you arrived, Tamaki was looking at your friend intently, making sure she was fine. You sighed relieved. That guy really was alright. You stepped next to him, looking down at your friend. “Are you okay, Haru-chan?” Haruhi nodded. Now fully relieved, you exhaled deeply, when Renge’s voice made you tense up again. “Other than Haruhi's contact falling out that was an ideal final scene!” , she exclaimed happily and now you really had enough. Even with the risk of Kyouya murdering you afterwards, you couldn't just let this continue. “Hey”, you yelled at her, “my friend got hurt!” But she ignored you. You swore by god if she’d now make it all about … “All it needs now is a moving narration by my sweet Kyouya!” You had opened your mouth again, ready to give her a bit of your opinion, when a loud crashing sound interrupted your anger. Surprised you looked up to see Kyouya in front of you, having destroyed the camera lense with a big stone in one swift movement. You watched him in awe and you felt your pulse quicken. “I'm terribly sorry”, Kyouya started, ignoring the cries of the camera men, “but I cannot allow there to be any record of a club member engaging in violence. I think you've caused enough trouble around here Renge.” And then he said the one sentence you could have kissed him for on the spot. “Please stop being such a pest.” Took him long enough. You lowered your head, trying to hide your smile at these words. Finally, he was back to normal. Well, whatever normal was for him. And Renge definitely had needed a reality check. Your happiness was short-lived, though, because not a second later, tears started to fall from her eyes. Unsure about what to do you looked her. “A pest?” You reached out a hand to pat her shoulder, and she looked up at you with tear-stained eyes, before she turned back to Kyouya. “But you're supposed to pat me on the head and tell me not to worry! You're supposed to be kind and affectionate Kyouya! Why are you acting so differently now? Tell me why!” “Because that is not the real Kyouya”, Tamaki simply said into the silence. You smiled slightly. He could be really insightful if he wanted. As annoying as he was sometimes, his heart was certainly in the right place. You let your hand sink back to your side and your gaze wandered over to Kyouya. “Thank god it isn’t”, you said teasingly, and he caught your smirk, stepping next to you, while Haruhi confronted Renge. “What are you implying?” “I saw you be nice for two entire days, and it freaked me out, to be honest.” He chuckled. “Well, I told you, her family relations meant a lot to me. Why do you think I allowed all this to happen in the first place? Ignoring the fact that now I will have to pay for the camera lense, too. Should I add that to Haruhi’s debt?” You looked up at him. Somehow you were really relieved he had stopped this madness and was back to his usual, even if slightly scary, self. You knew he had allowed all of this for a reason as usual, but he had also stopped it eventually. He said for the sake of the club, but something told you that this wasn't the full truth. You smiled slightly. He really was intriguing. “Don’t act like the video material hadn’t been saved digitally. I’m sure you’ll recover financially.” And with these words you left his side, to walk over to Haruhi who was actually comforting Renge. Maybe, you should give her another chance. Or at least save Haruhi from the situation.

Again, Kyouya looked after her, a smirk appearing on his face. He watched her kneel down next to Haruhi and Renge, talking and trying to calm down the latter. He scoffed and looked at the stone he was still holding in his hand, throwing it up and down a few times. Getting you into the club had been certainly the most interesting thing that had happened in a long time.

Chapter 4

#kyoya ootori #kyoya ootori x reader #ootori kyouya x readerkyouya ootori x readerootori kyoya x readerkyoya ootori x readerkyouya x readerkyouya ootoriootori kyouyaootori kyoyao #ootori kyouya x reader #kyouya ootori x reader #kyoya x reader #kyouya x reader #kyouya #kyoya #ohshc #ohshc x reader #tamaki suoh #kaoru hitachiin x reader #takashi morinozuka x reader #love triangle #renge hoshakuji

169 notes · View notes

sleepingdeath-light · 2 years

Text

Favouritism Headcanons | Dragon Cookies

requested by anon

reader is assumed as gender neutral and as the dragon cookies’ spouse

Ananas Dragon Cookie

being ananas dragon’s partner means that you’re going to be bragged to and about at every given opportunity - i mean, you are their partner so you signed up for this treatment in their eyes.

expects their followers to worship you as well as them - as their partner and equal, in their eyes, they should revere you for your superiority over them just as they do them

brags a lot more in your presence, emphasising their strength and prowess to impress you and earn your reverence

has their followers build a shrine dedicated to the two of you - one that emphasises your beauty, strength and devotion to them

will brag about you to the other dragons on the rare occasion that they meet; all smug smirks and long winding stories about how amazing of a partner you are to them

covers you in gold and jewels to show others that you’re taken and have a powerful spouse beside you - avoiding unnecessary confrontation and allowing them to spend as much time as possible being worshipped and revered by lesser beings

makes sure that you know that you’re superior to others of your kind however they can

Lotus Dragon Cookie

lotus dragon is a very calm and perceptive lover who will make use of their status and reputation to give you whatever you want, always answering with a smile and nod before calling on their servants.

insists on hydrangea and her fellow servants waiting on you hand and foot, pampering you at any given opportunity and discouraging them from denying any request from you

spoils you with the finest of luxuries one can afford: jewellery, lingerie, clothes, accessories and more

never leaves your side, having you lounge with them in their palace; constantly on display like a show pony or trophy spouse

they’re most often seen laying on their side with you beside them, their arms around you and their lips pressed gently against your temple

has art and stories made to emphasise your talents and beauty - commemorating you in the eyes of their servants and those under their control

constantly praises you and encourages you to pursue your talents

knows your dreams and emotions like the back of their hand and is extremely good at comforting you however you need them to

calls you their “beloved” and their “darling”, rarely ever using your name as you’re “above such mortal things now”

Lychee Dragon Cookie

lychee is very open about their fondness for you and will gladly brag about their relationship with you to anyone in reach - even doing so when using the “mangosteen cookie” identity by constantly calling back to their “dearest love” with a sickening sweetness that those around them found endearing.

has the monsters tend to and protect you, keeping you under constant surveillance to ensure your safety (and that you don’t leave them)

doesn’t let any of the “lower beings” near you and almost views them as a disease on the island that they’re protecting you from - talking them down whilst praising you to the heavens

very affectionate with you and can’t seem to keep their hands off of you in private/anywhere that people that they don’t want to see can’t

keeps you in their cave away from the rest of the island, in a lush room built especially to your tastes (the safest area of the cave by a long shot)

does have a habit of guilt tripping you if they feel your relationship is threatened, exaggerating their innocence and upset to keep you with them - though they’d never outright use their powers on you unless they were truly desperate

has murals and statues made in your honour so that they can have part of you with them after you’re gone

can be very dramatic and even manic, but you calm them down - so they can be very reliant on you at times

Pitaya Dragon Cookie

pitaya is an incredibly prideful spouse who will treat you like a god amongst men, coveting you like you’re a precious treasure and yet expecting all cookies to worship you as they did them.

very warm, even compared to their fellow dragons, and will hold you close whenever you feel cold or if heat soothes your pains

always has a hand on you, keeping you flush against their body so you know they’re there and will protect you - their grip getting harsher if there’s another cookie nearby

carries you when they fly and enjoys showing you the world - telling you that you’re above it all now, that you deserve it all and more

purrs when you touch or play with their hair but if anyone else gets close to them, they’ll lash out at them violently

has you sleep on their chest so they can protect you even in their sleep

sees you as their most valuable treasure and tells you as such often

doesn’t brag about you per-say, but anyone that sees you will know who you belong to because they have you wear their colours and the treasures they’ve collected

will ask for your input on any of their schemes, valuing your input above even their own at times - but will violently shut down anyone else that tries to interject into your conversation

openly territorial over you as their “dear mortal”

500 notes · View notes

onsunnyside · 2 years

Note

Give us some mean ATA Ari content pwease🥺

oki bestie, here’s a long snippet/spoiler for A Tough Act !!

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | dark!alpha!fraternity president!Ari Levinson x omega!activist!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | dark, a/b/o dynamics, assault, power imbalance, violence, misogyny (within a/b/o designations), mean!ari, size difference, possessive behaviour, possible dehumanization, non-con/dub-con. smut - minors dni: all the following warnings are observed by the reader: so underlinings of exhibitionism, forced voyeurism. humiliation: public punishment, spanking. implied: fingering, unprotected sex.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | a snippet of A Tough Act: starlet finds herself at an Arcadia Phi frat party.

𝗪/𝗖 | 1.56K

𝗔/𝗡 | the masterlist isn’t posted yet, but this is from my new series set in HCV (Howard college verse). This snippet includes cameos from our other readers: cherry and casanova !!

“You see that? Look at them.” He holds your face up, forcing you to watch the exchange.

The buzzcut-haired alpha nearly blocks the small omega with his frame, his big hands sliding all over her dress, and fixing the buttons of her cardigan. Then, they cup her cheeks, bringing her in for a soft kiss that quickly turns possessive. Her weak grip lands on his shoulders, feebly trying to push him away but he only leans closer. He presses her flush against the wall, nearly crushing her until you can’t see her anymore.

You can’t look anymore and avert your gaze, finding more interest in the couch cramped with giggly sorority girls. They flatter and wave at passing alphas like they’re celebrities.

All of them are clad in short dresses and high heels, practically copies of each other—except the one in the middle. She’s an omega and seems the most confident, her legs crossed as he steadily sips from a solo cup.

Some guys walk up to the girls, and sweep them away but the middle omega is different. When approached, she doesn’t offer the first alpha a glance, but the second one, a light-haired guy, seems to win whatever game they were playing. She lets him take her hand and draw her close, their bodies instantly grinding to the music as her friends fawn.

“That’s how good omegas are treated. They’re protected, and pampered. Adored like the prettiest flower in the garden,” he rasps, “as long as they honour their superiors.”

“Honour as in let themselves be used and degraded to mere machines?” Your eyes narrow, lip twitching with rage, “to be seen as nothing but a hole for your fucking knots? You must be really sick if you raped and willingly dehumanized people for cash. Your whole childhood—your existence is based on the suffering of omegas.”

Ari growls, “you think I’m careless enough to knock up some breeding bitch? If you're jealous, just say so.”

“Is that all you heard? Does your ego take up too much room in your head? Or is it the god-complex that makes you so stupid?” You jeer, “I’d rather drown than even look at you a second longer.”

You don’t get far before Ari is tugging you back, caging you against the wall with his body. “I suggest you behave, unless you want that to be you.” He spins you around to the rest of the room.

The once confident omega is now trapped on a bearded man’s lap—a different alpha from before. Her skirt is hiked up, making room for the alpha’s big hand as he lands spanks on her thigh, dangerously close to her ass. Each slap echoes through the packed room, sounding over the booming music from the basement.

“You see that, starlet? Do you want all eyes on you, just like her?” Ari murmurs, stepping closer as his fingers trail up your arm, “again, if you’re jealous, just say so. We could put on our own show, but we’ll be way better.”

An awful taste fills your mouth as you shrug off his hand, “No, and don’t touch me.”

Ari raises his eyebrows, taking a long sip of his beer. “Really? I would’ve thought an attention whore like yourself would kill to be the star…”

Another loud slap bounces off the walls, followed by a high-pitched squeal.

You feel embarrassed for her, the pure humiliation of being punished for everyone to see—right out in the open without shame.

But, that sharp distress is a waste. It turns out, you’re the only one who feels it, the only person not blinded by the hierarchy and the cruel shimmer of alphas.

“Ah, there we go. Look at little casanova.” Ari’s voice drops low, and suddenly he’s close enough for his beard to brush your cheek. “You know, she used to be quite the handful. Always with that attitude, flaunting herself, fucking anything that moves.” He snickers, “as if she was regaining ownership of herself and her body.”

“I bet she was.” You try to shove him away, but it’s only a few inches. “You think your status guarantees you the world, but worthless assholes like you don’t deserve headstrong people like her—” like us, omegas.

“No?” His blue eyes glimmer with amusement. “Well, how about you take a look at that headstrong omega right now?” He turns your face in her direction again.

Your breath hitches as your heart beats loudly in your ears, bouncing off your skull while you helplessly watch the poor omega—you wish to knock some sense into her. Tell her this isn’t her purpose, she isn’t a plaything to be shown off, she’s worth so much more.

“Look at her, casanova would be nothing without Andy.”

The spanks have turned heated. The big alpha swats her thigh then rubs it roughly, and you know it’s to make it hurt more rather than to soothe it. And she doesn’t protest or flail away, no, she stays in his lap, almost happily. She kisses his gland while running her fingers through his hair. Her moans are loud enough for you and everyone else to hear when she unabashedly grinds against his hand up her skirt.

“You always preach about control, but omegas aren't made for that. They can’t handle all that pressure,” his warm breath fans across your face and this close, you can see every beauty mark and freckle on his face. “They need someone to do all the planning, heavy lifting and thinking for them while they stick to simpler tasks. They need to be used, owned—they were made to be owned.”

You raise your hand and swing back, but in the blink of an eye, you’re pinned against the wall. The shock makes your drink drop to the floor, splattering all over your shoes and Ari’s boots.

With eyes full of burning hatred, and teeth clenched so tightly you can practically hear them grinding—you don’t usually resort to violence, but he always gets under your skin.

Your fist collides with his side before he restrains that one above your head too. His bottle joins your plastic cup on the floor, the glass doesn’t break but the beer spills on the floorboards and joins the puddle beneath the two of you.

Ari didn't even flinch, let alone, wince. Leaning closer with daring eyes, “Do that again, and I’ll fuck you right here in front of everyone. Make them watch as I tear your tight cunt apart, show them how a real alpha punishes a disobedient omega.”

You do the only thing you can think of and spit in his face. He stiffens and you try to headbutt him but he swiftly dodges. You would’ve expected him to have fast reflexes with his boxing skills—but he isn’t quick enough to avoid another hunk of your saliva.

This time, it lands on the corner of his mouth, and his eyes turn shades darker. He makes a disgusting show of it, easily constraining your wrists above your head despite your wriggling, and swiping your saliva from his face.

He brings it to his lips, sucking it off and groaning lowly. His eyes never leave yours, searing into your soul and fueling your hostility. You suck in your cheeks again, ready to spit a third time and hopefully burn a hole in his ego, but he slaps that same hand over your mouth.

“God, I love that fight in you. Makes me so fucking hard.” He forces your head into the wall as your breaths deepen, nostrils flaring with each exhale. “Oh, looks like Curtis finally got the show on the road.”

Once again, he makes you look at the buzzcut-haired alpha and his omega. He’s got her tucked in a dark corner, you can barely make out her legs around his waist and her arms wrapped around his neck, securing herself with each rock of his hips.

A deep dread fills your chest as people go about their lives, drinking and dancing, enjoying themselves while a poor girl is getting taken advantage of.

Or so you think because it physically pains you to hear her moans of enjoyment.

He slowly removes his palm from your mouth, loving the helplessness in your eyes. “Look at Curtis and sweet, innocent cherry—she’s getting fucked at a party like it’s her job. Hm, I wonder what her religious and overbearing parents would think of that… Say, should I record it and send it to them?”

“Leave her alone.” You hiss, bringing up your knee but Ari quickly hikes your thighs around his waist, just like Curtis. In this position, you’re completely vulnerable and at his mercy. Fear rushes through your veins, making you only more motivated to get free.

But, Ari is having none of it. His hand wraps around your throat, keeping you against the wall for everyone to see.

Shame blooms like a spring garden—but the flowers are roses with the sharpest thorns, and they tear you apart from the inside.

“You want me to leave her alone? To leave every other omega alone?” He mocks, “Now, why would I do that? It’d be neglecting my duties as an alpha, just letting them be—letting them have power over themselves.” He inches closer, his hips snug between yours and you can feel his sickening excitement through your jeans. “Omegas need guidance and they need to be used… and alphas are the only ones who can fill that void. Omegas are made to be owned.” He repeats again to drill it into your head.

Ari can see it in your eyes, the blazing fury, the pure loathing that resigns within you.

It was made for him, and he will never get enough of it.

He squeezes a little tighter, enjoying the stutter in your breath. He wonders if it’s getting harder to breathe yet, or if you’re just being difficult, as always.

“And you, starlet, regardless of how much you protest and fight, you’re one of them.”

I can't wait for this pairing !!

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gingerbreadmonsters · 2 years

Text

ALL MINE

or: it’s easy to have a good time, if you don’t mind getting a little messy - all it takes is meringue, cream, and strawberries.

the long-awaited finale of LOVE HEART! gn!reader, domestic fluff to smut, absolutely and without exception minors dni. this is… a lot more explicit than i thought it was going to be - i really didn’t think i had this in me, but what @ejunkiet wants, @ejunkiet gets! i hope this does the hot boi summer aesthetic justice :) sweetheart’s a brit because i say so - it’s not necessary for the plot, but quite frankly i think it’s a crime that eton mess and trifle don’t exist in america, and this is my only way of promoting them, so there you go. @solclaw is the source of all knowledge, and i am making trifle in their honour - rowan darling there is always an extra bowl for you!

sweetheart is gender neutral, and their anatomy is not described. milo’s skin is stated to be of an appropriate colour to show love bites, but no specific colour is mentioned and the reader’s skin is not described at all. milo being an excellent sous chef for just over 3600 words.

this fic contains explicit content, and is 18+ only. minors please do not interact with this one i am BEGGING you. thank you.

“sweetheart, you’ve, uh… you’ve got a little somethin’ just there…”

“here?”

“a little higher, to the left - no, no, your left - let me just-”

he licks his thumb and strokes it over your cheek, wiping away the stickiness as your lips pull into a very familiar smirk. christ, he knows that look, knows what it means when you run your tongue over your teeth, eyebrow cocked and head tilted to the right - it usually means that whatever you’re about to say probably isn’t fit for polite company.

“it’s not fair - how come i always get it all over my face?”

damn that mouth of yours - even when he knows it’s coming, you still get him blushing up a storm. “not my fault you’re such a messy eater, sweetheart. maybe i oughta have you wearin’ an apron next time.”

you smack lightly him in the arm with the wooden spoon, laughing at his mock-outraged expression as you go back to your cake batter. “go and get me one then, lover boy. it’s weird to hear you telling me to put on clothes, though.”

he… yeah, he doesn’t really have a comeback to that.

the two of you have been in the kitchen all morning, putting together the desserts for david’s birthday party this afternoon. it’s pretty fucking warm today, early summer and all, so you’ve got all the windows open and the fan going full blast to try and balance out the heat from the oven. both of you are sweating from the humidity, so he’s can’t really be surprised you’d forgone the apron for a little while.

david always insists that he doesn’t want anything for his birthday, but the rest of the pack - as happens every year, and’ll probably happen until the end of time - has other ideas. about a month ago, his mate had sent him off on some errand or other and got straight on a video call with you, sam, and ash’s mate to get something together.

(he still can’t figure out how the four of you seem to read each other’s minds, ‘cause the lot of you can be fucking terrifying when you’re on a mission. if he’s honest, he’s still not recovered from that goddamn prank with the door, and he knows that ash has lived in permanent fear of sam’s overhand serve ever since his mate had made the dubiously-successful suggestion of late-night tennis. it’s got to be something to do with this secretive “mates’ group chat” he’s heard legends of…)

(it gets a little more complicated when you’ve got to get the actual wolves involved, but david’s mate is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to organising shit. jesus, it’s like they’re the alpha, sometimes, and you’ve told him that you’ve met superiors at DUMP that are less intimidating. it’s no bad thing - that’s what you need when you’re dealing with a crack team like the one right here.)

(well, maybe less of a crack team, and more of a team on crack, but that’s what you get for trying to get him and ash to actually stop bickering and decide on a playlist or whatever.)

in any case, the pair of you have been put in charge of desserts for today - well, nobody was going to have ash go anywhere near anything that needed to be edible, and sam had declined politely, saying something about how “unless david’s developed a taste for O negative, i might not be too much help in the caterin’ department”. fair enough.

it doesn’t help that basically the whole pack is coming, and wolves aren’t exactly known for their, uh, delicate eating habits. you’re going to need a lot of food, and as if that wasn’t enough, you’re going to have to impress david fucking shaw. looks like the fridge is going to be working overtime in this weather, huh?

you’d taken it as a challenge, which meant that yesterday evening had been dedicated to all of the shit that needed to set overnight: tiramisu, cheesecake, chocolate tart, caramel shortbread… he doesn’t know how the hell you managed to balance it all in the fridge, but he’s not touching it, not a chance.

(it’s got to the point where he had to ask you to grab him another can of soda off the shelf because he wasn’t looking to accidentally knock something over - you’d thought it was funny, but he’d been dead serious! that new flavour you bought - the ones in the pink cans? - is really good, especially in this heat, but it’s not worth a dessert catastrophe, alright?)

(he’s especially not going near the trifle on the middle shelf - it looks pretty freaking impressive, what with all the layers and shit, but he doesn’t need you mad at him for swiping one of the raspberries off the top.)

(he remembers you making it last time, when his ma’d come over for lunch at the weekend, and you’d damn near kicked his shit in for accidentally trying to put the custard in before the cream. let’s just say he’d got the message loud and clear - he doesn’t get in the way when you make trifle any more.)

this morning’s endeavours have got you two dashing about trying to get the last few desserts finished, in a flurry of buttercream and baking powder. neither of you could remember whether david likes chocolate or vanilla more, and his mate’s not picking up, so you’d just made both - the victoria sponge is cooling on the rack over by the microwave, and the chocolate cake’s just come out of the oven.

fuck, it’s hot in here today.

the morning is almost unbearably humid, sun beating down outside between a few, sparse clouds. looks like you’re both going to need a shower before you go, as if there wasn’t enough to do. his shirt’s unbuttoned, sleeves pushed up to the elbows and collar hanging open, and he’d be tempted to take it off entirely if he didn’t know that when he does that, you almost always end up late.

you’ve got all of the ingredients for cream puffs (at least, he thinks that’s what they’ll be? you’d rattled off some fancy name, and he’d just kind of nodded and gone back to his strawberry mousse) laid out on the counter, while he slices up some kiwi for the fruit salad.

he’s not bad at cooking, by any means, but you’re the pro when it comes to desserts - he’s really just your sous chef today, and the system seems to be working pretty well.

(hey, it’s not like he minds you bossing him around a bit. he certainly hasn’t been complaining about the view today, seeing as the warm weather’s got you wearing a little less than normal.. and christ, when you do that thing where you grab him by the hips to move him out of the way? you know exactly what that does to him, you little minx.)

speaking of b- wait, what the hell are you- “sweetheart, what on earth…?”

you appear to be bashing the ever-loving shit out of the meringues he’d bought from the store yesterday with a rolling pin, and a plume of powdered sugar drifts up out of the bowl to get blown apart by the fan as you look up at him.

“eton mess,” you say, as if that explains everything. “can you pass me the strawberries?”

you’ve eaten what? he takes a big gulp of soda and watches as you tip the strawberries into the massive bowl, followed by an equally-enormous helping of whipped cream, and start mixing it all together. is that all you’re going to do? oh, wait, you’re adding a few handfuls of blueberries and… yeah, you’re just carrying it over to the fridge.

“it’s really nice, actually. sweetened cream, fruit, and smashed-up meringue. plus, it’s meant to look like a trainwreck because it literally has mess in the name, so david can’t complain.”

actually, that’s a pretty good idea. he drops the empty can into the trash, already missing the coolness of the metal on his warm skin, and reaches for another kiwi. “well then, i’ll guess have to try some when we get there, won’t i?”

you stop just in front of him on your path to the fridge, holding the bowl in one arm, and catch his wrist with the other.

“...sweetheart?”

“we have to be there at 1, right?”

what’s that look on your face? yeah, that’s what the text from ash’s mate had said. “well, the party actually starts at 2, but we gotta give the others a hand setting up, first. why?”

“did you want to try some now?”

he’s not quite sure what you mean, and your fond little huff tells him that he’s probably making that dumb expression that you keep telling him is cute, but he thinks is plain embarrassing.

“the eton mess, genius. want some?”

well, it can’t hurt, can it? not if you’re offering, surely. plus, you’d just said it was supposed to look all jumbled up, so nobody’ll miss a little bit of cream off the top. he reaches behind him to grab a teaspoon when-

“mmmm, it’s really sweet.”

his jaw drops. he swallows heavily, very glad that he hadn’t had a mouthful of soda, watching as you finish licking the cream off your fingers and hum contentedly. there’s a tiny smudge of powdered sugar just by the corner of your lip.

“baby, you gotta…”

the thought tapers off into nothing as you dip your finger back into the bowl and swipe it through the cream, looking up from your hand to meet his gaze. “don’t worry, honey. i already washed my hands.”

your other hand deposits the dessert on the kitchen table behind you, and comes to slide around his waist, under his shirt, as you move closer. idly, he feels your fingers playing with the back of his waistband. his own hands, still sticky with kiwi juice, hover just over your hips.

“go on. try some.”

no need to tell him twice. he leans down and licks your finger into his mouth.

mmmm, you were right, it is good. the sweet cream tastes like vanilla and strawberries, and the crunchy pieces of meringue melt slowly in his mouth. he swirls his tongue around the tip of your finger, eyes closed, lapping up the drops of strawberry juice in the creases and spirals of your fingerprint.

your other hand is digging insistently into his back now, fingernails pressing into the muscle there as his teeth graze across your skin, biting gently at the pad of your fingertip before releasing it from his mouth with an exaggerated pop.

“...how was it?” you’re both breathless, not an inch of space between you as he slowly licks his lips.

“i’m not too sure, sweetheart,” as he spins you both around so you’re leaning up against the counter, “i might need another taste to make sure.”

your answering grin only lasts a split second before he’s kissing you, all tongue and teeth and powdered sugar. sticky hands come up to cup your jaw as you greedily reciprocate, hastily untying the knot of your apron behind you.

everything is hot, the fiery heat of your lips against his as he growls softly into your mouth, and he briefly thinks that he probably ought to put the bowl behind you in the fridge before you get too distracted.

the thought is quickly forgotten when he feels you start to play with the tab of his zipper - he tips his head back and gasps as you press burning kisses down his throat, nipping at his adam’s apple.

“baby, baby - aghhh…”

you smile against his skin, cheek resting on his shoulder. “too much?”

“no, nonono, it’s good, ‘s really, really, oh, sweethea- fuckfuckfuckplease-!”

his brain goes delightfully blank as your fingers dip inside the elastic of his boxers and close around his cock. the pressure is just enough to have him groaning, hips twitching forwards into your hand, slow strokes just the way you know he likes.

head spinning, he pulls hazily at the hem of your shirt, too drunk on your touch to hear your laughter (he can’t quite tell if you’re calling him “needy” or “pretty”, and it really could be either), too desperate to worry about the careless way he’s practically tearing your clothes off you.

whatever it was, he’ll buy you a new one.

now that he thinks about it, with what little brainpower he can summon, this is probably why you asked him what time the party started.

“let - hahhh - sweetheart, let me touch you too,” he’s burying himself in your neck frantically, pushing his face against the sweet spot under your jaw, “wanna touch, want you feelin’ good, let m- shit, right there- sweetheart!”

you nod, regretfully withdrawing your hand as he hoists you up to sit on an empty part of the counter, between a stack of cookbooks and the side of the fridge. as soon as you’re settled, he wastes no time in pulling your face back down for another kiss while you shimmy out of the rest of your clothes.

you dangle your shirt just at the edge of his vision, showing off the unfortunate rip in the side seam that couldn’t possibly have been his fault, but you’re quickly placated by his teeth skimming over your now-bare collarbone.

he’s fairly sure you forget about it entirely when he makes good on his promises - one arm hooks around your shoulder and up to the far side of your head to nestle your face down into his neck, and the other runs over your chest and down your stomach until he finds what he’s looking for.

“nnnng, milo- ah!” your stifled keening goes straight to his head as you rock into his hand, voice breaking as he works you harder. he always knows how to make you sloppy, slick snaps of his wrist just where you’re most sensitive. “more, more, need it, yesyesyes-”

he shushes you softly, kissing the top of your head while he makes you see stars. “that’s it, sweetheart, mate, my mate, so good, so so good, that’s my baby…”

your hands scrabble to push his shirt off his shoulders, but it doesn’t quite work with his arm up by your head as he keeps you upright, cheek now against his chest. instead, you settle for reaching back down to stroke him faster this time, feeling more than hearing the growl that shudders through him as you tease the tip.

he feels the pleased thrumming of your mate bond, right in his chest where you’re pressed against him, and curses lowly as you kiss just over where the magic settles. goddamn, does it feel good when you’re both all blissed out like this - heady pleasure ricochets across the bond, building and building inside, misting in his mind until he’s not sure where he ends and you begin.

both of you are shaking now, sticky with sweat and eyes screwed shut as you prop each other up. he knows he’s getting close, faster than usual, but he doesn’t want to stop so soon, especially not when you - fucking hell, when you twist your hand like tha- haaah…

“sweetheart - sweetheart, please, can i…?”

he doesn’t even get the whole question out, although that’s probably for the best seeing as he’s not sure his love-drunk brain can manage full sentences right now. you’re already wrapping your legs around his waist and urging him closer to you, one hand on his shoulder and the other spreading yourself open for him.

“yeah, yeah, please, milo i need you, love you, love you so much…” he can tell that you’re having as much trouble as he is with words, but even so your voice is equal parts lust and love as you lean in to sweetly kiss his nose. fuck, you’re hot, and he can’t help but smile softly at the adoration on your face when he presses his forehead to yours, reaching up to gently smooth his thumb over your cheek.

the world goes blurry for a second as he pushes into you - you’re so warm, so slick and tight, aching for him to fill you, hold you, please you. the mate bond in his chest is white-hot and happy, sparking with joy as you tug him closer. he sets a decent pace, a little faster than normal, savouring the way you stutter and whine with pleasure into his skin.

“feels - mmf! - you, you, i-” the stack of cookbooks by your hip totters as you hastily push it aside, limbs clumsy and breath hitching.

“i, yeah, i know, ‘s good, so fucking perfect, sweetheart-!”

he grinds his cock deeper and deeper, laying you back on the counter and pressing his weight down over your body. the change in angle lets him nudge up against that sweet spot that has you gasping for air, back arching up into him and hot, needy tears threatening to spill over.

he feels the sudden burst of ecstasy as it rushes through you and overflows into your bond, and he moans, long and broken, into your neck. your hand slips between your bodies, lower and lower, so he tilts his hips just a little to give you the room you need to - shit, he loves watching you make yourself feel good, and the way you tighten and tense around him is almost, almost too much.

every instinct tells him to mark you, his mate, and he feels his teeth start to ache as you rock up into him.

he licks over your pulse, feels it pounding under his tongue, and wordlessly urges you to do the same. your free arm loops around him and your fingers tangle into his hair as you seek out the fading hickeys on his neck, a satisfied hum swelling in your chest as new ones blossom in the wake of your mouth.

his teeth dig into your shoulder when you leave a particularly dark love bite just above his collarbone, and he can tell that neither of you are going to last much longer.

“milo, milo- nnnng, so much, can’t… please!”

giddy with pleasure, he threads his arm under your waist to press right back into that sweet spot inside you, the heat of you too much to bear. “yeah, s’okay, sweetheart, s’okay, let go - baby, fuck, mine, my mate, all m- haahh-!”

his core sings with yours, desire and love and bliss washing over the bond and sloshing around in his chest. somehow, his lips find yours, and for a second - no, an hour - no, forever, he and you are paradise.

slowly, the world begins to filter back in, and he watches fondly as you grab the side of the fridge to pull yourself upright.

“how- how long do we have?” your voice is soft and a little hoarser than before.

he blinks up at the clock over by the doorway. “it’s… nearly half past eleven?”

your eyes meet, and you sigh once before pushing him back a step and letting him help you down off the counter. he’s sure that he probably looks totally fucked out right now, hair a mess and eyes still a little dreamy, but he helps you into the bathroom and leaves you to shower.

(he’d much prefer to shower with you, but he knows exactly how that’s going to end, and neither of you need david’s mate yelling at you for turning up late. he’ll be damned if ash and his mate beat you there again.)

walking back into the kitchen, he picks up the remains of both of your clothes and heads towards the bedroom to put them in the laundry hamper, remembering halfway through that he needs to put your bowl of meringue-cream-whatever in the fridge. and finish cutting the fruit. and melt the chocolate, and turn the cake out of the pan, and-

the sound of running water in the bathroom stops. he’ll do it in a minute.

surprisingly, you do actually make it to david’s house mostly on time, although unfortunately not before ash catches you two running in from the car. he smiles wickedly as he opens his mouth, presumably to say something about the very obvious hickeys all over milo’s throat, but you cut him off before he can even manage a wolf whistle.

“milo, baby, did you bring the tennis rackets, or is sam going to?”

ash immediately flinches, life apparently flashing before his eyes, and ducks back into the house - presumably to beg his mate not to make him play against sam again. you snicker, leaning into his side, and god, does he love you.

(he did not bring the rackets, thank goodness. david would probably commit a murder if he thought they were going to try and fuck up his yard with tennis.)

(again.)

“you’re somethin’ else, you know that, sweetheart?”

“yeah,” you reply, “and you like it.”

well, he can’t say no to that. the pair of you wave david’s mate over to help you carry the desserts inside, and he’s suddenly overcome with a rush of affection as you heft the stack of cake tins in your arms.

just before you cross the doorway, he stops you.

“hold on a second, baby. i think you’ve, got a little somethin’ just there…”

“hmmm? where?”

he kisses the side of your cheek sweetly, “all gone now, sweetheart. just a little leftover cake mixture, is all.”

your face splits into a devilish grin as you realise what he’s doing, and in the early afternoon sun it makes you look like a goddamn angel.

“not my fault i’m such a messy eater.”

PART 4 - always read the label

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #milo x sweetheart #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted smut #redacted fluff #milo x reader #redacted asmr smut #redacted asmr fluff #ginger after dark #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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snowshowerwriting · 2 years

Note

YOU ASKED FOR ASKS AND MY GOOD FRIEND, THAT WAS YOUR FIRST MISTAKE. You cannot hide from me. Okay so, hero x villain. Where hero finally goes to one of the Superhero parties despite avoiding them for years. Only going because of some great “entertainment” promised and they’re bored. Only to find out that the bound and humiliated Villain is the “entertainment”. Cue protective Hero. Thank you! And no worries if you don’t wanna :D

I asked for asks, and that was never a mistake, my good friend!! I never intend to hide from thee! ALSO, you gave me a corrupt superhero??? Oh my, it's not Christmas yet, hold off!! (just kidding, keep em comin').

----

CW For implied kidnapping

Dear Hero,

It is with my honour that I invite you to the annual Heroes Celebratory Ceremony. Along with our traditional awarding ceremony and dinner party, we are expecting a guest that, I personally feel, you will be excited to see.

Best of Wishes,

Superhero.

Hero scrunched up his nose in distaste at the letter. Between the fancy handwriting, the extravagant but elegant decors that surrounded the words, and the ticket on the other side of the card felt; it all felt rather... in your face sort of fancy. Although Hero did occasionally dabble in the lavish lifestyle, it was nothing like Superhero. Someone who had the mass media on her side and the hearts of her adoring fans in the city. This also meant that Superhero probably had everything right at her fingertips, which included a luxurious manor with probably anything a typical rich woman would have.

The young man sighed, leaning forwards onto his office desk, and running a hand through his hair. Was it really a good idea? To go out to some ceremony when Villain was still missing? Hero couldn't help but stress out about this case. His nemesis had been gone for three months, for hell's sake. That never meant anything good as far as Hero could tell, not until he knew that Villain was safely behind bars and under proper monitoring. Maybe he should've roped Superhero into this. There was a reason she was so well known, it was the sharp work she did and the attention to detail in her cases.

Hero sighed, groaning as he got up from his desk. Perhaps it wasn't good that he was slumped over his desk, four hours a day every week over this. Losing sleep wasn't ever helpful, was it? He eyed the invitation card from between his fingers, tapping his fingers against the paper as he debated whether it was a good idea to go or not.

❆ ❅ ❆ ❅

Hero had decided to go. It didn't really mean that he wanted to. As he had contemplated coming, an idea stormed into his head. He hoped that perhaps he could get in touch with Superhero or a teammate to find out about Villain. That was his main reasoning for going, though if that didn't work, well... it would've been a nice break from the work he supposed.

Hero sighed, tugging at his suit sleeve as he looked around the large ballroom. It was massive, and Hero couldn't help but gape at the architecture that arched over everyone's head, decked out with gilded beams and crystal chandeliers. Most everyone was in their best dress and, in that brief moment, Hero almost felt a little shameful for coming in a plain suit and some very basic jewelry.

"Hero?"

He turned around to the familiar voice calling him out. He froze a little, seeing Superhero. Despite the chillingly warm smile his superior gave him, Hero couldn't help but feel unsettled. It was as if he had been placed dangling above a cage of hungry lions. Hero shifted, facing his colleague and smiling.

"Superhero, it's nice seeing you. How have you been?"

"I've been doing absolutely wonderful, thank you. Though I suppose I can't say the same for you," the older woman replied, chuckling deeply enough that Hero felt uneasy.

Hero gave a faux smile at the backhanded compliments. "Yeah, well. I've been working on a missing case with Villain, so," Hero took in a breath, looking around at the twinkling lights everywhere. "It's been taking a lot of time. Wherever they went, they covered up their tracks really well," Hero sighed, looking back at Superhero. Whatever expression Superhero had- it was fucking unnerving. There was a gleam of knowing in her eyes, something in the way her grin curled up her features that had made Hero uncomfortably hot. He could feel his button-down shirt sticking to his skin. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, trying to ignore the negative feeling brewing somewhere in his chest.

"Oh, right. I've not told you, have I?" Superhero hummed in thought, beckoning a waiter with a tray of sparkling water over. She took two glasses handing one to Hero. The glass felt cold against Hero's fingers, easing the sticky warmth. "I came across Villain a while back."

Hero pulled the glass back from his lips, choking on the little bit of liquid he had downed. Embarrassed about his reaction, Hero covered his face, wiping off the little bit of sparkling water from his chin with a nearby napkin. "Sorry- um I just- I wasn't expecting that. You seriously found him?" Hero asked, looking at the other woman with wide eyes.

"Trust me, Hero. You don't have to worry about Villain much longer." Without another word, Superhero's gaze left Hero's to the stage that sat on her side of the ballroom. Heavy curtains guarded whatever was behind the center stage. For a split second, Hero almost swore on his mother's grave he heard chains clinking. Immediately, dread had settled into the pits of his stomach. He looked back at Superhero, only to find her already looking his way. "I taught Villain their lessons well. I thought Villain might've needed a lot more time, but," she paused, smiling wickedly. "They proved themselves in three months. Can you believe that?"

"What did you do with Villain?" Hero spoke quietly, much to both of their surprise.

"Oh? I suppose it makes sense that you'd want to be the first to view them. They were your nemesis after all," Superhero replied, finishing her cup of drink.

"Superhero, what did you do to them?" Hero's voice rose in urgency, following his superior with urgent steps as she made her way past the crowds smoothly. Hero's heart sped up, weaving around the mass of people which slowly died down as the two approached the far back of the ballroom.

Superhero took a moment to unlock an employee only door. Hero stared at the sign, before hesitantly entering. The room was dark at first, as he closed the door behind him until it clicked. Then, he swore he heard a whimper, and froze. "Superhero, what the fuck did you do?" He growled. He received no reply aside from the sounds of something clinking against each other. Hero quickly lit up flames against his finger tips, and warm light surrounded the storage room behind the stage.

The first thing he saw was Villain, and he stopped breathing for a split moment. The second thing he spotted was the suit his nemesis had on. Hero had always known his nemesis to be confident, to wear their suit with pride, and never be the one to shy away from their charismatic self. They looked terrible now, as much as Hero hated to say this. The sleeves and the neck of the suit hung much too loosely off of Villain and Hero hoped it was because the clothes were too big.

He turned to his superior, about to inquire- yell at her for what she had done, only to be greeted by a cruel grin decorating her lips. "Don't worry, Hero, darling. Villain is behaving much better than before. I'm sure you'll love to see them in action."

Hero only swallowed at her crooked words.

This turned out much longer than I thought. I hadda go back and edit bc i noticed some errors w the pronouns sfgsd

#heroes and villains #hero x villain #villains and heroes #villain x hero #creative writing #writeblr #whump writing #superhero whumper #hero whumper #villain whumpee #snow.asks

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demonpoxballad · 2 years

Text

Wedding Night

Pairing: Sam Wilson x fem!Reader

Word count: ~1k

Summary: Sam is Best Man, you're Maid of Honour... exciting times ensue :)

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, fluff, implied smut, 18+ only! Sam and reader are both intellectual sluts and I love them for it

Masterlist

Hello! First time writing Sam on his own and it's been so fun, enjoy <3

“Are we going to have sex, then?”

Sam quirks an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

The bartender walks nonchalantly away. You consider that they have far superior restraint concerning eavesdropping than yourself. You would be ducking underneath the bar for some juicy gossip if you were in their shoes.

But you wouldn’t have asked that scandalous question under any normal circumstances, let’s be clear. It was the cosmos, of course.

And the heat. And the Maid of Honour stress. And the despicably sexy Best Man.

Definitely, determinedly, absolutely not your fault at all.

You sigh, offer up a lopsided smile. Fiddle with the bar mat resting beneath your fingertips. The bride and groom are swaying absentmindedly in the centre of the room. One more dance, Carmen had said. I need to get her home, Joaquín had said. Soon they’ll be gone, and the floor will be open for you to strut any kind of tango you wish.

“I’m trying to decide whether you’d think me easy and then struggle to respect me for the remainder of time or not.”

You say this, and a fanciful applause echoes inside your ears. YEAHHHH, the crowds roar, SHE’S DONE IT AGAIN. It was a droll line, perhaps one of your best. And you’re calm, composed. Like a duck, or swan: graceful and poised at first glance, frantically flapping beneath the surface.

You see Sam gearing up for his reply. This conversation reads like a tennis match. Tense gasps, whiplashed necks. Perhaps any enthusiastic grunting will commence before you even make it to a hotel room.

“Nah, don’t worry.” He’s smirking. This better be good. “I’m a man that respects female pleasure. Reveres it, even.”

Your reaction is casual, professional. Raised eyebrows, tilted head, but from a short distance you could be talking about the thrills of aggressive eBay auctions. Or stocks.

“How very progressive,” you reply.

“I try.” The music fades, and you turn to watch the newlyweds exit the building. Carmen only waves – you’ll talk tomorrow, clearly there’s more pressing business you both have to be getting on with. Your attention is diffused for a moment; Sam hasn’t completely caught it like he might have dreamed, and he notices. The smirk falls, he tries to turn things around: “Too much, maybe?”

“Hm.” Your eyes still wander around the room, enjoying this game you have devised. Out the corner of your eye you see him shake his head, scoffing. You’ve got him hook-line-and-sinker, and he knows it. “You could afford to chill out a little.”

“Duly noted.”

You meet his eyes. They’re so pretty, luminous. “It might make you seem more sincere; you see. At the moment I feel like you’re just placating me.”

You want this; you deserve this. You’ve spent the day holding Carmen’s surprisingly heavy train – over damp mud and grass, the wedding aisle, the bathroom as she peed three times every hour. And it’s practically the Maid of Honour’s duty to get off with the Best Man, isn’t it? Especially if he’s single and literally Captain Sexy himself. You imagine he could always do with some stress relief as well, being the incredibly righteous and upstanding gentleman you frequently watch bossing speeches on TV.

This is a win-win situation. You’re thoroughly convinced.

Sam takes a small step back. “We don’t actually have to--”

“Come on, then.” You hold out your hand for him to take, grabbing your martini glass in the other and leading him towards the hotel foyer.

“Don’t you want to bring your drink?” you ask. His beer is left behind on the bar.

“I was thinking I’d go onto red . . .”

“God, you’re so hot.”

He laughs, rubs your thumb with his own. He’s that intoxicating concoction of nerves, excitement and complete self-assuredness that has your breaths catching and falling, your ankles wobbling in your heels. Inside the elevator, you bend to slip them off.

When you straighten again, Sam is closer, his hands rising to hold your face. Your mouth falls open, you might be . . . panting?

“I don’t want to be that guy,” he whispers. “I don’t want to be that guy that you sleep with once and only ever see online, or every once in a while at events like this." He grimaces. "I don’t want it to be awkward, you know?”

“Okay,” you say.

“Can we go on a date tomorrow? Dinner, or just lunch? Hell: breakfast!”

You giggle. “Okay.”

He finally presses his lips to yours. “I like you,” between kisses.

“Mmph,” you protest. “You don’t even know me.”

“I do.” He’s insistent, the elevator doors open and you’re immediately dragged through. “I know you a little bit.”

Blindly along the corridor a little way and tumbling onto a hotel bed, Sam is heavy on top of you. He tries to relieve some of the pressure, propping himself up on his elbows, sliding off to the side of you, but you resist, tugging him down with your hands, locking him in with your legs.

The friction is heavenly and he struggles to find his words amongst your lips. “And soon I’m gonna know what you look like naked, and when you come, and what your favourite breakfast food is.” He tugs your dress up impatiently, knowing exactly where to find the zip, and ever so quickly there’s goosebumps crawling all over your skin.

A choked: “Shit,” as the lace cups of your bra are pulled down.

You have to get his shirt off now. You’re being too rough, really, yanking his neck with the tie, stretching the buttonholes. You promise yourself you’ll calm down in a second, but you need to see him.

“I know that you’re smart, and funny,” he carries on. “And you make me feel like an idiot.”

You’re running your hands over his chest and it’s even better than you imagined, god, he’s so soft and full. His abs tighten as you touch him and he’s grinding into you now, you’re both ready, this needs to happen.

“We’re gonna talk on our date, and I swear, y/n, I’m going to know you. If you’ll let me.”

“Fuck,” you whisper. You weren’t prepared for this. This level of intimacy. He’s got you now, no doubt, and you’re letting yourself fall.

“I want to know you too.”

Tags: @writing-for-marvel @mayasreadingnook @hallecarey1

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x fem!reader #sam wilson smut #sam wilson fluff #joaquin torres #falcon #the falcon

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theroseempress · 9 months

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HAPPY WORLDBUILDING WEDNESAY!

(I shouted that in my head)

What are some rituals/traditions your WIP has?

HAPPY WORLDBUILDING WEDNESDAY!

*dives into TGC worldbuilding document and rummages around* aha! (gonna count holidays as traditions as well)

(below a cut because. um. yeah that was way longer than I expected)

Solace-

Solites have a holiday when each season starts; IE Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter. (I don't have much on them, should probably elaborate)

The formal way to greet someone is to wrap one arm across the chest with the other at your side, and bow. (female-specific version usually done by courtiers involves using the free hand to lift the skirt) The higher in rank the person you’re greeting, the deeper the bow. A more mocking/showmanlike version involves sweeping the free arm out into the air. The informal way is to stack both fists, or depending on the area fist-bump yourself instead. A version done mainly between friends and family is to press your palm against the other person’s, and then interlace fingers.

In Solace, when someone hits a special event of some sort, they receive a title alongside their name, which is supposed to reflect their personality. Depending on the person, a title might be something you give yourself, someone like a parent gives you, or something a community gives you. It’s used sort of like a second name, depending on the person they are often kept secret. (It’s sort of a self thing, the more comfortable you are with yourself, the more likely people are to know your title. It’s also a sign of how much you trust people.)

Ketra-

Holidays- The First Equinox (fall) Second Equinox (spring) First Solstice (summer) and Second Solstice. (winter) First Solstice is commonly celebrated with lots of contests, while Second Solstice is celebrated at night, indoors, with lots of feasting and merriment. (to drive demons away, since they're believed to have the most power then)

The common way to greet someone is for each-other to grasp the other’s forearm. The formal version is to salute by raising one arm with a clenched fist and placing the other fist under that arm’s elbow. Also, hugs. This is the country where people hug each-other.

A common way to resolve a dispute is a hrîndæl; or an ‘honor duel’. Basically, a sword fight. Most commonly done till first blood, though in older times it was to the death. (and still can be if the dispute is serious enough) Hrîndaels are only done by adults; while children are not allowed to participate they often have mock-hrîndaels. A minor can challenge an adult to a genuine hrîndael, but not the other way around, and they are not allowed to fight to the death or any injury. (while a minor can propose these terms and an adult can technically agree, it is very frowned upon)

If someone is challenged to a hrîndael, they are honour-bound to accept unless a) they’re a child, or b) they have a condition that would keep them from participating. (usually along the lines of ‘has children’ or ‘has someone to take care of’) Soldiers and lords’ guards are also banned from participating in hrîndaels on duty or if their superior says not to, though they usually just postpone it until they’re off work. A hrîndael can be set to any terms, from to the death, first blood, surrender, first hit, etc. It is uncommon to set a reward or punishment for the winner or loser, but it is sometimes done.

the Talin-

Talin don’t really do calendars. They have three units of time, marked by when things start growing, when the harvest comes, and a final one between those. That means the calendar (if they had one) would constantly changing, so they refer to time as ‘Harvest 1’ or how-ever, for example. Birthdays get marked in the same manner (IE someone could be born two days before harvest) so they also move around.

A formal greeting is to grasp each shoulder with the opposing hand and nod. The less formal version is to only use one hand, and among friends or family it’s common to just tap the shoulder instead of a proper clasp.

All Talin have two names, their normal name and their ‘personal’ name. The latter is only given to people who are extremely close to the person, and learning a personal name without the person’s permission is considered taboo, as is telling it to anyone else. They are also very closely guarded. Personal names are usually only given to siblings or spouses.

Shyi-

The most formal Shi greeting is to get on one knee with the head bowed and one hand touching the heart. The next greeting, still pretty formal, is to bow the head and touch your heard while still standing. The most common greeting, usually done with a similar social level and first meeting, is to simply touch your heart. The least formal greeting, usually done among friends, is to touch the back of your hands together.

Shi typically have two sets of names; their Shi name- which will be their name, preceded by the name of their mother/father, (depends on gender) which is used for personal business- and their ‘cloak’ name, which is given to outsiders/non-Shi people. A cloak name is sort of like a mark of age, one usually chooses their own when they’re old enough.

In Shi, the length of your hair is tied into personal growth/etc. Children are not allowed to grow their hair beyond chin length until they can take care of their grooming personally, and they are not allowed to grow their hair past shoulder length until they are adults. Once one is an adult, hair is grown long and kept in elaborate braids/buns. Hair is never taken out of the styles unless with someone extremely important, even then it is usually in a simple braid or ponytail. Only people extremely close to someone are allowed to see you with your hair loose, and it’s very a thing to let someone touch it. When someone’s in disgrace, it’s common for their hair to be cut. Cutting your hair without any disgrace or age reason is a STATEMENT, let me say. Hair ornaments are commonly worn, and also an indication of status/relations. When dating, Shi give each-other (often hand-made) hair ornamentation that matches/coordinates, and when married they give each-other more important/better versions of the same ornaments. The intricacy of styling indicates class, as well as hair ornamentation.

Andha-

The traditional way to greet someone formally is to raise both hands in fists, crossed at the wrists. If the other person is particularly important, you bow while still crossing wrists. A more casual version is to raise one fist.

It’s also a habit for most Amorians to tap the top or side of a doorframe as they enter a building.

well THAT was a bit of an infodump whoops. hope you enjoyed! most of this was just drawn straight from my worldbuilding document. thanks for the ask! :D

#ask and ye shall be answered #the golden city #uuuuuuuuuh wow that's a lotta words #haha #tumblr thought my worldbuilding was too awesome #it crashed while i was writing this #fun fact the amorian formal greeting is like that because then you're like #'hey here's my hands i am Not Stabbing You'#'you can trust me i promise'

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whitegoldtower · 1 year

Text

Playing as Solemnar for the first time in a while, with some extra character spice 💅

His full name, Altmer style:

Solemnar ‘Len Alya Calanon Nimwen ‘Ata Rhovanion Morohtar Elarinya ‘cal Galadhremmin

His vallaslin is Elgar’nan’s - father of vengeance.

He begun as a Thalmor battlemage helping the Imperial Legion win the war, but after convincing Jarl Balgruuf to accept help from the Legion, he was assigned Lydia as his housecarl.

Being a Thalmor, he wasn’t best pleased with having a Nord following him around, but during their battle for Whiterun, the prospect of losing her drove him to leap from the ramparts into the midst of a scuffle for the sole purpose of dragging her to safety in order to heal her. She’d grown on him during their travels, and this leads to some mixed feelings on both parts.

Lydia, in the sense of “He’s a heartless monster, why would he save me?” And Solemnar; “… I just risked my life to save a Nord. A human. What is wrong with me?”

Tensions rise between them in good and bad ways the further along in the war they go. Sometimes their silence is an argument waiting to happen, sometimes it’s because they’re making one another ‘unseasonably warm’.

Nonetheless, their banter is top notch.

“Ah yes, Windhelm. The city one can smell before they see it. What do I mean? Take a whiff, darling. Shit, cum, and that Nordic piss you call ale.”

“I’m not getting into a single bed with you! I’ll take the chaise.”

“Lydia, I insist. As if I would invite you to lay beside me were it not for the good of my own heart; I wouldn’t dream of doing anything unsavoury with the likes of you.”

“Lucky me. You’re a Justiciar. Unsavoury is your profession.”

“Alas, I am sworn to carry your burdens.”

“And I am sworn to tolerate your knuckle-dragging Nordic behaviour, unfortunately.”

“Why can’t you people make bigger beds?”

“It’s not our fault your ‘superior breeding’ gave you stupidly long legs because you’re a knife-eared clotpole.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, my apologies. I meant; It’s not our fault your superior breeding gave you stupidly long legs because you’re a knife-eared clotpole, my Thane.”

“I’ve punished people for saying less.”

“Honoured.”

Also Sol and Hadvar bonded over their soldier PTSD and he “reluctantly” snuggled with Lydia in the Pale Camp for warmth. He’s slowly realising that Nords are people too.

And perhaps he’s figuring out a little more about how he feels towards Lydia. Suddenly the distance they put between each other when sharing a bed is beginning to get smaller, and they’re starting to get a little handsy.

He’s given her a gold necklace with red butterflies on it for ‘safekeeping’ and ‘compensation if he gets killed’, but we all know he’s lying through his teeth.

#tesblr #skyrim #skyrim oc #thalmor #lydia skyrim #battlemage #imperial legion

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shammah8 · 1 year

Text

RHAPSODY OF REALITIES DAILY DEVOTIONAL

Monday, 30th January 2023

YOUR EXALTED PLACE IN HIM

Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son (Colossians 1:13).

PASTOR CHRIS OYAKHILOME

Oftentimes, some Christians describe their encounters with demons and how they’re often oppressed by the powers of darkness. To such folks, the question that often comes to my mind is, “Who is Jesus? Didn’t He give us power over devils?”

The Bible says we’ve been delivered—transferred and translated—from the jurisdiction of darkness into the Kingdom of God’s Love-Son. That’s your current place of domicile. You’re far above principalities and powers; vitally and effectively superior to Satan and the demons of hell!

Jesus said in Luke 10:19, “Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.” Until and unless this becomes your present-hour consciousness, perception and outlook on life, you’ll live a life that’s far lower than your calling in Christ.

Here’s something I did many years ago that I recommend you do for yourself: get your notepad or diary and write as a title, “Why I have power over devils.” Then, get into the Bible and write out every scripture you can find about Jesus, who He is, and who you are in Him! You’d be amazed and inspired by what you’d discover about Jesus Christ, the power He’s given you, and your exalted place in Him. You’re in Him; inseparably one with Him. As He is, so are you in this world (1 John 4:17).

How is He? He is the effulgence of the Father’s glory. He is glory personified. Who is He? He’s Himself, God! Where is He? He’s at the place of highest honour and supreme authority in the heavenly realm: “exalted as first above every ruler, authority, government, and realm of power in existence! He is gloriously enthroned over every name that is ever praised, not only in this age, but in the age that is coming” (Ephesians 1:21 TPT). The most enthralling part of it all is that you’re in Him, gloriously enthroned with Him and exalted, far above every ruler, authority, government and realm of power in existence. Blessed be God!

PRAYER

I live in the Kingdom of God’s Love-Son; that’s the realm into which I was born; a realm of glory, beyond time and space; the realm of the miraculous. I refuse to condescend to the earthly level of life or reasoning. I rule over demons and circumstances, dominating this physical world with the principles of our heavenly Kingdom. Hallelujah!

FURTHER STUDY:

Colossians 1:12-13 Giving thanks unto the Father, which hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light: 13 Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son:

Ephesians 1:21-23 TPT And now he is exalted as first above every ruler, authority, government, and realm of power in existence! He is gloriously enthroned over every name that is ever praised, not only in this age, but in the age that is coming! 22 And he alone is the leader and source of everything needed in the church. God has put everything beneath the authority of Jesus Christ and has given him the highest rank above all others. 23 And now we, his church, are his body on the earth and that which fills him who is being filled by it!

Ephesians 2:6 And hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus:

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socialvinod · 3 months

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