#tossing out my self respect for this man
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ᴀ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴀᴅᴊᴜꜱᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ
ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ/ᴀᴜʀᴀʟɪꜱᴍ ➠ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ
pairing: personal trainer! yeosang x fem! reader
genre: pure smut
summary: you love your weekly visits with your personal trainer. he always stretches you out just right.
w.c: 2.4k
warnings: mean(ish) dom! yeo, sub! reader, 15 year age gap, seduction, teasing, sir kink, dirty talk, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, auralism, groping, half dressed kink ig?, oral (receiving), fingering, squirting, cumming untouched, brief deep throating, unprotected sex on a yoga mat, creampie
a/n: i done lost it guys TT just imagining having messy sex with mean dilf yeo somehow adds and takes off ten years of my life at the same time like some pemdas shit aughhh… i hope you enjoy this filthy mess <33
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“What do you mean you’re breaking up with me?” you gasped into your phone, holding a hand against your chest, personally offended that your boyfriend of six months would suggest such a thing. “And what about my personal trainer? He’s like fifteen years older than me. Baby. You really think I would do that to you?”
“Y/N, I’ve seen him with my own eyes. I know you’re fucking him, and I’m over it. It’s over,” your boyfriend repeated into your ear, just ripping the bandaid off then and there.
“You can’t do that. We’re not breaking up,” you scoffed, wrapping a lock of your hair around your finger, your lips forming a pout. “Babyyy, come on, you’re being so dumb right now.”
“Goodbye, Y/N,” he quickly said, before hanging up.
“Ugh.” Pissed off, you tossed your phone onto your canopy style bed, knocking one of your limited edition plushies off and onto the carpeted floor in the process. You turned to your full length mirror, glaring back at your scrunched-up face, your hands formed into fists near your tiny tennis skirt. “If he thinks I’m fucking my personal trainer, then I’ll fuck my personal trainer, alright.”
And so, your petty, self-righteous plan of spiteful revenge was set. You were a smart girl. You knew exactly what to do to get your ridiculously sexy personal trainer to break his professional and moral codes. All you had to do was wear something impossibly tight without anything underneath and moan a little louder when he was stretching you out. It was as simple as that. Right?
࿏࿏࿏
Yeosang was everything a woman desired, all the way down to his persistent ability to respect them. He respected you, almost too much in your opinion. Here you were bent over in a ‘stretching position’ right in front of him, wearing a too-tight pair of gray leggings and the tiniest sports bra known to man, knowing damn well he could see the way you had your tits all pushed together for his viewing pleasure in the mirror, yet his eyes remained on yours.
“How does it feel, Y/N? Are you tight anywhere like last time?” Yeosang asked, his voice, like dripping honey, filled your body with a comforting warmth. He studied your stretching form, one hand to his scruffy chin, the other on his hip.
Your knees trembled slightly underneath you, urging you to return to a resting position, eventually sitting on your knees. You looked up to him, your eyelids lowering slightly, a pout on your glossy lips. “Really tight, yeah. I think I need help, Yeo…”
“Then, I need you to lay down on your back for me,” he replied in a soft, though stern tone that made your cunt pulse, getting down onto his knees beside you with a small grunt. “Show me where, Y/N. You can do that, yeah?”
Just as you laid down on the yoga mat, a fresh wave of slick slipped out of you. Damn him. He should be getting worked up over you, not the other way around. How would it be an act of petty revenge if you were soaking wet just from hearing your personal trainer’s absurdly sexy voice?
“Nnngh, it’s right here…” you exhaled, feeling out your stiff hips, looking up at him past your lashes. “I need some stretching out, I think.”
“Mm, I see. Well, let’s get you taken care of,” Yeosang nodded as his lips curled up into a somewhat mischievous smile, positioning himself so that he was in between your spread legs, wrapping his hands around one of your thighs and gently pushing it down towards your body, causing you to gasp. “Just relax for me, sweetheart…that’s it…”
You were about to lose your mind, trying harder and harder not to let out a pornograhic moan the more Yeosang pushed his body weight onto you, your lower halves practically flush together. You wondered if he could feel how wet you were through your leggings, knowing there were no panties to catch your slick. “Yeosang…fuck…”
Yeosang pushed down a little further, nodding his head apologetically. “I know, sweetheart, I know it hurts, but it’ll be worth it,” He gave you a charming smile, his fingers squeezing into the flesh of your thigh, pushing you down further, until the ache of your muscles matched the ache inside your cunt. “Still hurts?”
“No, it feels good now, keep going, Yeo,” you sighed out, your eyes glazing over with lust, gently running your hand over his, sensing a hint of desire when it began to peer through Yeosang’s own lingering gaze, his hands moving towards your other thigh, beginning to give it the same treatment.
“That’s good, though you still feel really tight,” Yeosang pointed out, pressing your other thigh down against your body, leaning his body weight on you just enough to drive you mad, you cunt clenching around nothing. His other hand slipped around your opposite hip, expertly massaging around with his calloused fingers. “Mm, you’re almost there. Just a little more…”
“Yes, sir,” you sighed out, swearing you heard Yeosang’s breath get caught inside his throat just as soon as you felt something hard and heavy forming against your lower abdomen, hoping you weren’t just imagining it with your overheated brain. “It’s just so hard, Yeo…be gentle…”
Yeosang bit into his bottom lip, coming to terms with your current shared predicament, wondering if you were both on the same page, but not fully knowing if he should cross several professional boundaries or not. Regardless, here he was, already pressing his stiff cock into his very young, very horny client’s cunt through her soaked leggings. What did he have to lose?
“Gentle, huh?” he chuckled deeply, pulling back slightly to admire the sight of your soaked cunt through your slick-stained leggings. “Sure you don’t want it rough, considering the way you’ve been dripping for me this entire time?” He ran two fingers down the legging seam that separated your puffy folds, rubbing them into your clit, making you let out another gasp. “Thought you could hide this from me, did you? I could feel how wet you were getting…”
“Fuck– Nooo, Yeo, I just wanted you to see it for yourself,” you answered whinily, spreading your legs open just a little wider, grabbing at the waistline of your leggings to make the shape of your cunt more pronounced, your pout returning. “Do you like it, sir?”
“Jesus, of course I do. My slutty little client shows off her wet cunt and thinks I wouldn’t like it? Huh? Did you think I would be able to hold myself back?” Yeosang shook his head out of disbelief of his insane luck, taking his time running his calloused fingers up and down your clothed slit, admiring the way the material formed to the shape of it.
Fuck it. You were too desperate now to reclaim any semblance of control over the situation, your act of personal revenge long forgotten, your mind only having enough space in it to think about Yeosang and getting used by him.
“I did it because I want to be your slut, Yeo. Please? Can I? I’ll be so good for you.” You began to move your hips along with his movements, in desperate need of more friction, more pleasure at your disposal, begging him with your glistening doe eyes.
“Of course you can be my little slut, princess. You already are. I mean, just look at you, whoring yourself out for your personal trainer like this,” Yeosang groaned out, just as he lifted your ass up into the air by your hips, licking his lips. “I’ll make you mine, sweetheart.” And with that, he tore your leggings open just enough to expose your leaking cunt, leaning down slightly to take a deep inhale of your warm, flowery scent. “God, you’re completely soaked for me, Y/N. You’ve been wanting this so bad, haven’t you? Just dreaming about my tongue inside this tight hole of yours, huh?”
“Yess, oh my god, please eat me out, Yeo, I’m begging,” you squeaked out from below him, already teary-eyed, ready to beg on your knees for the older man’s attention if you had to.
Yeosang took an experimental lick up your cunt, already collecting enough slick inside his mouth for him to swallow down happily, idly working your clit with two agile fingers. “Do you play with your little clit like this before you go to sleep and think of me, Y/N?” he asked huskily against your cunt, beginning to lap at your leaking hole, teasing it with his tongue. “Huh? Do you think about me stretching you out with my tongue? With my cock?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you moaned, just as Yeosang’s tongue fully slid inside you to rub at your inner walls, tongue-fucking you in a ravenous manner, his fingers still flicking at and squeezing your clit, your juices dripping down the lower-half of his face. “Fuck…! Yeosang…!”
“Uh-huhhh…” he moaned into you, sending pleasurable vibrations through your cunt, eventually replacing his tongue with two more fingers, fucking you so quickly, you couldn’t even get a chance to breath. “That’s it, baby, you’re so close, aren’t you? Going to squirt for me, yeah? Is my slut going to cum all over my face?”
“Yes–fuck, Yeo–” you could barely call out, your muscles tightening suddenly, your lower half pulsing more and more until you let out an involuntary cry, clear liquid squirting out of you and pouring onto Yeosang’s face, spilling onto the yoga mat, and soaking into the material of your torn leggings, some dripping along your abdomen.
“Oh my god, that’s a gooood girl, look at you…” Yeosang praised shakily, gently slurping up your squirt from your twitching cunt, moaning into it, his softening cock resting against his cum-covered inner thigh. “What a good little slut you are, Y/N.”
“Good enough for cock?” you simply asked from below, reaching up to spread your cunt apart further for him, all while gazing up at him with barely open eyes, still swimming in your post orgasm bliss. “Wanna be stuffed, Yeo. Please?”
Your adorably filthy behavior alone made Yeosang harder than he’s been in a long time, making him want to join in on the fun. He wasted no time positioning himself so that his knees were on either side of your head, slowly lowering his joggers until his long, veiny cock sprung out in front of your face. “I think you should lube up my cock for me first, princess, with that naughty mouth of yours.”
“Yes, sir,” you obeyed, opening your mouth wide enough to take what you could of Yeosang’s impressive length inside, gagging immediately when he began to fuck into your throat, dribbles of spit leaking down your chin. “Mmmfff…”
Gutteral groans routinely escaped Yeosang’s throat, continuing to pump himself into your mouth, unable to release himself from the tight, warm confines of your now bulging throat. “God, you’re taking me so fucking well, princess. Wish I could cum down this pretty throat of yours…” He suddenly pulled out, resting the tip of his heavy cock on your saliva-streaked lips, letting you lazily lap up the beads of pre-cum that spilled from it. “Gotta fuck you, though. I know that slutty cunt needs to be filled with cock.”
“Fuck, yes, sir, give it to me,” you purred against his cockhead, sucking and slurping on it like it was candy, only stopping when he pulled away to lower himself down your body, until his cock was slowly pressing into your willing hole instead.
“Doesn’t matter whose cock, huh?” he asked in his low, honey-like voice, wrapping his fingers around your hips, massaging into them like before, only this time he was sliding you onto his pulsing length little by little until he had completely bottomed out inside.
“No…!” you admitted breathily, the shame you felt only increasing your arousal, barely able to hook your thighs around his waist when he began to quickly pump himself into you, your hole swallowing his thick cock up each time.
“You’ll let a–fuck–older guy…someone who’s your personal trainer…nnngh…use you like their own personal cum dump and–” He pulled out suddenly, only to plunge himself deep into your cunt, making you cry out. “–pump you full of his cum as long as you’re getting stuffed with cock. Isn’t that right, baby?”
“Yeah, you’re right, Yeo,” you exhaled out, reaching up to your sports bra to slide it up until your tits popped out, just in time for them to began bouncing each time Yeosang slammed himself into you. “Fuck me like the slut I am…Please, sir…”
“Oh godd, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Y/N, gonna fuck your goddamn brains out,” Yeosang gruffed out in between brutal thrusts, resorting to grabbing and holding your wrists down so that you couldn’t get away from him, drilling his aching cock into your squelching hole like he was getting paid to do it.
Yeosang did indeed fuck your brains out. He fucked you until you didn’t know which way was up or down. The only thing that brought you back to reality was something warm and thick gushing inside you, Yeosang’s warm hand holding your own down against your abdomen, his nasty words barely reaching your hazy mind.
“You feel that, princess? All the cum I’m filling this whore-hole up with?” he asked you softly in between harsh pants, a few beads of sweat sliding down his sharp chin and landing onto your flushed face.
You could hardly move, let alone speak. “Uh-huh…”
“I want to see it…Want you to see what I’ve done to you.” Yeosang slowly pulled out of you, milking the tip of his cock, groaning softly, leaving a few more spurts of his load on your puffy cunt, a few drops of it getting onto the torn hole inside your leggings.
He gently turned you around, so that you were facing the mirror on the wall, reaching past your spread thighs to spread open your cunt with his thumbs, laying his lips against your ear, “Look. You got cum leaking out of you, your leggings are all torn up, and you got squirt all over the mat too...Do you see what a mess you’ve become for me, Y/N?”
“Yeah, I see, Yeo. I love it…” You gazed at his hazy reflection in the mirror with hearts in your eyes, wishing you had seduced your personal trainer at an earlier date.
Inhaling your flowery scent once more, Yeosang pressed a kiss onto your cheek, nuzzling it. “That’s my girl.” He tilted his head to the side, his hands rubbing into your sore hips. “Same time next week?”
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Ignore It (18+)
This is really my first time posting a story to here, I usually only do it to AO3, but this is what I made this account for. Might as well start using it?
WARNINGS: Heavy smut, corruption kink, mild blood kink? (not sure about that one) Fem Tav, hetero relationship, stress fucking, not beta'd, angst, use of cunt
Smut blow the cut, please enjoy!!
Trekking through the wilderness was exhausting as is. But the bickering? That was starting to drive Tav crazy. Vampire this. Shar that. Eating magic this. Demons that. It was always something else. No matter what she did, they were always at each other’s throats. Oh the irony in that. Maybe the Illithid worm wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe this, the arguing, was the worst thing to happen to her. If she had to hear any Githyanki phrases in the next thirty minutes, she might kill Lae’zel herself. Tav was at her wits end, ready to beat her head against the nearest tree just to see if that got rid of the tadpole. It would be a win-win if it also got everyone else to shut up.
They didn’t even let up at camp. Sure, they all had their respective tents and spaces. But the glaring. Oh, the glaring! Not a moment of peace before bed. She sat near her bedroll, closer to the fire Gale had set up. A tankard in hand, her back to the more vocal members of the party. She could practically hear Lae’zel glaring at Astarion. And Shadowheart wasn't exactly quiet about her distaste for him either. It’s not like there was an Infernal being less than ten yards away from him. Or a Warlock just across the flames.
She very quickly downed the rest of her drink before tossing the tankard near the flames. Curling up in her bedroll, she tried to block out all of the noise and barbed words. It was currently taking everything in her to not scream at her first three companions. They had all been through something insane and deadly. Why could they not have it in them to simply get along? It felt impossible.
Fortunately, her sour mood was noticed by her party. Not that she’d realize it at the moment. The biggest point of contention, Astarion, managed to get the courage to walk up to their fearless, albeit grumpy, leader. He nudged her with his foot. Which he immediately realized was a bad decision. Taz shot up to meet his eyes in the blink of an eye. “What do you want?”
The bite in her voice was unmistakable. But he knew how to handle it. “I want-”
“Don’t bother,” she cut him off. She never cut him off. She was more than happy to let him talk at her sometimes. The final glare she gave him was intense as she stalked towards the lake, away from everybody else. Astarion watched her walk away. Did he only watch to see her hips sway? Absolutely. But that didn’t change the fact that the Bard needed to relax. He smiled to himself before following her. “Didn’t I say don’t bother? I’m not in the mood to be your midnight snack tonight.”
He didn’t fail to match her step. “Why darling! Do you truly think so little of me?” He pouted.
Tav just sighed, “Take your antics somewhere else for now, Astarion.”
“Will you just sit down?” He pushed on her shoulders, forcing her down.
Much to the rest of the party's dismay, she did trust the vampire. Whether that would lead her to her own doom was yet to be seen.
Her knees crumbled under the pressure as she fell on the ground. She shot another glare in his direction but that didn’t seem to dissuade him from his plan.
“You’ve been far too stressed today, darling.” He purred in her ear, his hands never leaving her shoulders.
“Astarion?” He continued to move her body until she was on her stomach.
“Shhh, do you trust me?” Gods, that man was always far too much for Tav.
“Should I?”
He chuckled as he readjusted himself so he was sitting on the back of her thighs, straddling her. It took every ounce of self restraint he had to not immediately rub her ass. Gods, it always looked so perfect when she walked. He took a deep breath before applying pressure between her shoulder blades. He felt her body tense before slowly relaxing.
It wasn’t what she expected. Was he giving her a massage? His hands worked slowly from the base of her neck to her waist. And-oh? Did she just moan?
“It’s alright, my dear, I love hearing you.” He smirked before continuing his work. He continued like that for a few moments, just enjoying the little sounds she was making. “Let's get you out of these clothes, shall we?”
She pushed him off her, rolling on her back and sitting up. “So that’s what this was? Just an excuse to get me naked?” That fire was coming back.
“Darling, if I was trying to get into your pants, I’d try flattering you more first. Unfortunately, it is difficult to get this right over your clothes.” He sat next to her, staring out at the water, just watching the water crash against the coast. “I was taught how to do this a long, long time ago.”
She stared at the rogue before swallowing. The tips of her ears and the back of her neck were flushed. But she did trust him. He would say if this was untoward. Right? With a shaky breath, she sighed but said “Alright.”
Astarion watched her shaky hands start to untie the little knots holding her bustier. His mouth started to water, but he had patience. As she shrugged the last of her tunic off, she covered her chest and turned the other way. He did manage to lay down her tunic so she wasn’t just laying on the dirt anymore. She laid herself in front of him. He could feel how shaky her breath still was as he climbed on top of her once more.
He resumed his previous work, addressing the knots in her lower back. The elf’s skin was so soft, so warm. He found himself just getting lost in the feeling of someone trusting him. It was a strange feeling but a welcome one.
Tav, on the other hand, was getting lost in his touch. His cold hands worked their way up her back and she liked it far more than she thought she would. What started off as little moans slowly became louder. It didn’t help that he was an expert with his hands. And her mind started to trail off to things that were unbecoming of a lady.
But Astarion could feel her thighs clench. No matter how she tried to move without him noticing too much. Gods, he could almost smell her arousal. Over 200 years old and here he was, still trying to keep himself from getting hard. But then she moaned his name. And what little restraint he had disappeared. He put his hands near her head before leaning down towards her ear. “This wasn’t an excuse to see you naked but you are making it very hard to not act on my…baser impulses, my dear.” He felt the shiver go down her spine.
“Astarion,” she moaned again before grinding back on him. And she got what she wanted when he flipped her on her back without moving from his spot. And there she was, laid out in front of a vampire spawn with her chest bare. She looked up at him with wide eyes, unsure how to go from there. But him? He had far more experience than most. He moved faster than she thought. He captured her lips as he slotted himself between her thighs. And just like that, his hands were everywhere.
It was like he couldn’t decide where he liked them best. Her throat? Her breasts? Her hips so he could grind against her? He just couldn’t decide. And she tried so hard to keep herself quiet. But then he moved his lips down her neck, his fangs brushing over the still healing marks from the night before. He thought about feeding for a moment, but something far more filling had his attention right now. He moved until he had her nipple in his mouth. Flicking the nub with his tongue, his hand went to massage the other one. He wasn’t gentle. No one that knew Astarion for who he was thought he was a gentle man. It was rough but Tav didn’t seem to mind.
In fact, Tav seemed to love it. Her back arched into him. “Astarion!” And then her hands were on his shoulders, urging him downwards.
And he didn’t want to fight it. He kept moving, biting and nipping at her stomach. And then he got to her trousers. He sat up, panting and looking wild. His fangs were bared and he was panting hard. He threw her legs on his shoulders, tossing her loafers somewhere behind him. And then he went to work on the knots holding her trousers up. Which he made very quick work of. He shimmied them off her, making sure to keep her underwear on for a moment. He stripped off his shirt before returning to her mouth.
He needed her.
“Astarion, please, touch me.”
He was quick to snake his hand towards her cunt. And even quicker to find the spot that made her gasp into his mouth. Gods, he could do this forever. He made his way back to her neck, lapping over those same marks. Her hand tangled itself into his hair and the other gripped his shoulder with far more strength than he expected. His cold hands were a sharp contrast to the warmth of her. Her head was thrown back against the ground as she gasped for air. She was shaking.
It was already so much for her. She had been so pent up and so angry. But the way he worked her clit? It was a way no one ever had before. Not even herself. In fact, no one had ever touched her like this before. Nothing past shy kisses or heady glances. If she had known, maybe she would have lived her life a little differently.
But once her back arched and she cried out his name? She clenched around nothing. She felt so empty now and he hadn’t even gotten close yet. He chuckled as best he could, “Already, darling?” he muttered against her neck.
“I-” she gasped once he slid a finger inside her. “Astarion,” his name rolled off her tongue and he swore he wouldn’t mind hearing her do this forever. He could still feel her cunt clench around his fingers and he groaned. He couldn’t wait much longer but she was enjoying herself. “I’ve never-” he curled his finger before adding a second one.
“You’ve never felt this good before?”
“Done this before,” she managed to gasp out before he curled his fingers again.
His hands stalled for a moment and she whined. “I’m to be your first?” She nodded, wriggling her hips, trying to will him to move again. “My dear, why didn’t you say anything?” He removed his fingers and she cried out. “Shhh, I have to make a good first impression, don’t I?”
He practically ripped her underwear off. She was a virgin. He couldn’t lie that it made him even harder to think about being the only one who got to touch her. But he had to take care of her if he wanted to be the only one.
He buried his face in her cunt, holding her thighs open with his hands. Tav covered her mouth to hide her cries of his name. But it was his name on her lips. His fingers going right back inside her, where they belonged. His lips on her clit. He groaned again when she came, this time right on his face and hands. He lapped at her for a moment longer and started pistoning his fingers in and out. He couldn’t help but watch her cum make a mess of his fingers.
“Astarion!” She cried as she came on his fingers yet again. “Please!”
“Please what, my dear?” He wiped her juices off his chin before closing the distance between them. His lips hovered over hers, those red eyes glazed over with a hunger. Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled at him, all too happy to offer herself to him. She bared her neck. And dive he did. His fangs pierced her neck once again as he drank. He knew better than to drink more than his share but he wanted nothing more than to keep drinking as she wrapped her bare legs around his waist and rubbed her cunt against the fabric of his trousers. He released her neck and practically shredded what was left of his clothing.
He leaned back for a moment, taking in the sight. This elf, a noble from Waterdeep, was laid out before him. Freckles dotting her skin and her blonde hair spread out like a halo before him. It would be angelic if not for the blood slowly trickling out of her neck. “Astarion,” she whispered. Her voice was full of something he couldn’t quite place. Something he had pushed aside a long time ago.
All he could do was nod before he lined himself up to her. As he slowly slid in, he swore that this was the closest he could get to heaven.
Astarion wasn’t small. Tav could feel his cock stretching her cunt out. Why did no one ever tell her it could feel like this? She gripped his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him once more. She sighed as he finally finished. “Gods above, you’re amazing.” She whispered, almost too afraid to say it. Too afraid to say the other things on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes traveled down his body to where they were connected before looking back up at him.
“Shit,” he panted, withholding every emotion that came flooding through him. Instead, he snaked a hand underneath her thigh, lifting it up before he began to thrust.
She thought just having her inside him felt amazing. But this angle had her barely able to breath. She threw her head back and arched into his body. It was all she could do to hold on to him as he upped his pace. Tav could barely gasp out his name as she tried to look at him. His eyes were shut and his hair was more than perfectly tousled. “Beautiful,” was all she could get out before she tightened around his cock.
“Shit!” He followed closely behind her, seemingly unexpectedly. They laid there for a moment, just feeling each other before he slipped out of her. She cried, a palpable sense of emptiness. He watched her breath for a few moments longer, secretly enjoying his cum starting to drip out of her cunt. Normally, he’d leave. He’d get up, put his clothes back together and leave. But Tav? Something told him he couldn’t. So he grabbed his tunic and wrapped her in it before carrying her to the water.
He tried not to notice her nuzzling his neck. He tried to ignore the praises she said. He tried desperately to ignore the draw she had on him. He tried to ignore her moan as he set her in the shallow water, gently taking his tunic off her shoulders. Instead, he sat next to her and let the water wash away the previous activities.
#Astarion#baulders gate 3#bg3 spoilers#astarion x tav#astarion smut#fem!Tav#god help me#this speaks for itself
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Indiana Jones?
My gut answer is that Indiana Jones is far too manful to make it through, but I have been urged to consider the fact that he isn't just a bold Adventurer, he's also a Professor of Archaeology. He has expertise thar may well be relevant to the question.
I read a lovely essay on here once that talks about Indy's arc being one of acquiring a sense of reverence for the divine. I think the argument was that Temple of Doom should be understood as a prequel because it backpedals that characterization which becomes crucial in the Last Crusade. All this to say it might be an oversimplification to pigeonhole him as the kind of cocky that gets you immediately killed. He would accept the gift of the crucifix. He might have enough background knowledge to know what he's getting into, or at least recognize it when he sees it.
If he comes to Castle Dracula in his affect as Professor, he's got a fair shot at being wildly underestimated. But he also probably doesn't have his whip... not that the whip would help him much in this situation. The intercepted letters are exactly the sort of ploy he might try and fail at, after which the theft is inevitable - no whip, no gun, no hat (!!). Poor Indy.
I think though the thing he's most hampered by is the absence of mooks. Indiana Jones overwhelmingly survives his adventures because disposable mooks get killed first. Or he punches one and takes his clothes. He gets to Find Out because Nazis went first and Fucked Around. He relies hugely on other people, both allies and enemies, and there are no other people at Castle Dracula. Like... maybe Dracula's hired movers might be able to play a similar role? But they don't come into the Castle.
I don't think he'd go for the wolves, because be has a long history of noping himself away from clear and present danger. He also has the kind of face that seems to make villains want to tie him to a chair and monologue at him, and we know how Dracula loves a captive audience, so he might actually be funny enough long enough to stay alive. I guess it depends on whether Dracula enjoys having insults spat at him in impotent defiance from a guy tied to a chair as much as he enjoys forcing a guy to smile and nod in hopeless terror while still playing the perfect host. Indy has no problem being rude to people who have him tied to things. It's a toss up but I don't know if it's got two solid months of staying power.
On the other hand IF Castle Dracula has a secret escape tunnel (and what self-respecting castle doesn't) he can definitely find it.
Actually, actually though, if Indy can make it to the end of the sequence by playing the helpless nerd, can escape, because he's the sort of guy who will try to smuggle himself out in one of the dirt boxes. Even if he doesn't get out the door that way, if he can stay put until the movers arrive this becomes a Punching Mooks task, which is what he's good at.
So I am going to say that Professor Henry "Indiana" Jones can survive Castle Dracula, just because I want to see the inevitable exploding lieterwagon chase
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“so, what was it this time?”
“osamu!” you shriek, nearly jumping out of your skin when you round corner and find the grey-haired miya leaning against your kitchen counter.
eating your chips.
“i thought i locked the door,” you mumble, throwing the fridge open with a huff. your eyes land on a bottle of wine from a week ago, one you got after your last date.
“i have a key,” he says, mouth full of chips. “besides, ya texted me to come over, remember?”
you’re drinking straight out of the bottle, rolling your eyes at both his attitude and the dribble of wine that falls down your chin and onto your pajama shirt. he’s right, you texted him the second your date dropped you off. it was awful, and who better to complain about it to than your best friend.
“yeah, i do.” you put the bottle down, sliding it across the counter to osamu who slides it back and shakes his head.
“well, let’s hear it then.” osamu picks a couple more chips out of the bag, gesturing toward you. only then do you realize he’s still in his work clothes, black t shirt and onigiri miya, even his apron is loosely wrapped around his hips.
“it was awful, worst one yet. he didn’t even pick me up. sent an uber to get me,” osamu interjects with a snicker. you continue. “i get to the restaurant, and he didn’t even acknowledge me when i sat down! just nodded at like like some dog while he talked on the phone to who knows who for at least 10 minutes.”
osamu nods, seemingly unamused.
“then he spent the entire dinner telling me about how much money he makes, the cars he owns and his latest vacation.”
“business man?”
“actor.”
osamu laughs out loud. “in anything good? anything i’ve seen?”
“well if it’s good, we all know you haven’t seen it,” you hoist yourself onto the counter across from osamu as he shakes his head. “but no, commercials mostly. he said he was really hoping to get on that one soap opera, the-“
“so he was a self absorbed asshole?”
“pretty much,” you nod, picking at your nails. “such a waste of my time! i couldn’t believe it. by the time i finished my food his was untouched! he was yapping the entire time.”
you continue on, gesturing wildly about yet another guy who took up your friday night. and it ended the same as all the others: you, sitting in your pajamas while osamu listens, eating your snack. usually, after an hour or so, you let your feelings out and head to bed, leaving osamu to head back to his own place.
tonight though, he doesn’t want that outcome.
truthfully he’s had it. he’s sick of these guys, tired of hearing about how you’re getting treated when he’s fully capable of doing it himself.
“stop spending your nights with these losers, let a real man take ya out.”
you exhale. “i’ve been trying! not my fault i keep getting set up with them.”
osamu groans while he chews the remainder of the chips, tossing the once full bag into the trash.
“i have someone to set ya up with,” he returns to his spot, directly in front of you and crosses his arms.
“please, who is it? after all this time you finally have someone?”
he nods. “he’s tall, dark hair, has a good job. his own business, actually.”
you hum, kicking your feet back lazily off the counter. he takes a step closer.
“he loves his momma, a real mommas boy type. he’s on time, respectful, and knows how to treat ya like a real woman.”
you raise an eyebrow. “and just who would that be?”
he places his arms on either side of your thighs, trapping you on the counter.
“yer lookin’ at him, sweetheart.”
#osamu x reader#osamu miya x reader#osamu x reader fluff#miya osamu x reader#osamu fluff#osamu x you#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff
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𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 — 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬; daemon, jace, aemond, aegon
𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; fem!bodied reader, SMUT!!! i cannot stress this enough!
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; just some ideas LOL this was purely self indulgent :) i hope you guys enjoy!
𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍
daemon loves it when you ride him; it’s one of his favorite things. his large hands always cup the tender flesh of your waist, sliding up only to pinch your delicate nipples as you bounce on him. he smirks as your mouth springs open to allow obscene moans to escape into his chambers, his cock vanishing inside your gleaming folds.
“daemon,” you groan, tossing your head back. when daemon lowers his hands down your thighs and clutches your ass roughly, you whimper in agony. scrambling for anything to hold onto, you find stability by placing your hands on his chest as you methodically grind your hips on his lengthy cock.
daemon forces his hips up to meet your balmy walls, causing that hot coil in the center of your stomach to loosen and threaten to snap. "this cunt is all mine," daemon mutters, his smirk falling as he rapidly slams his throbbing cock into you at a break-speed pace. your screams and his strangled groan blend together as his thick seed paints your quivering walls.
𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐄
soft groans fall from jace’s mouth whenever you rise and fall upon his cock, your dripping walls clenching around its throbbing length. his lips are hooked to your ear, emitting obscene groans with every movement and saying dirty words. jace isn’t one for dirty talk — he’s a respectful gentleman — but whenever you ride him? it’s something different. the man gets primal.
"shit — a little faster — yeah, just like that," jace says in a voice that is almost a whisper as he leans back and clutches your hips. his brown hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, those pretty eyes of his focused on you. “you’re perfect,” he adds with a strangled moan as he rolls his hips up to meet yours.
jace allows you to ride him at your own speed; he enjoys watching you take charge and fuck your cunt onto him passionately. when you reach your breaking point, you draw his hair back and bring him close for a messy kiss that results in a tangle of teeth and saliva, your hips accelerating until you both cum with each other’s names on your lips.
𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃
riding aemond is absolutely amazing. it feels amazing, it’s sexy, it’s fast, and it’s hot. the puddle at the bottom of his shaft gets more shiny and sticky with each time you come up from his cock, and he hums in satisfaction when you let out a strangled cry of his name.
aemond is so enthralled by your movements that he doesn't notice your gentle voice as you whimper, "my prince, please—“ which causes your hip movements to slow down and eventually cease. your begging has him smirking devilishly, and he doesn’t give you a chance to say another word before he jerks his cock in and out of your folds for you, caressing that tender place.
aemond watches you closely the entire time: your thighs shaking from exhaustion, your stuttering moans, and the jerk of your pelvis as you strive to keep him inside entirely. he is captured. you are the focus of his one blue eye. "good girl,” he half-growls, lips drawn into a taught line as his hair falls into your face with every thrust. once you get close to your climax, aemond takes complete control, slamming his cock up into you and rubbing your clit with a thumb. ride him like the dragon he is and he’ll give you the experience of a lifetime!!
𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍
much like the man himself, riding aegon is rough and intense. you tug on the waves of his platinum hair with every slide of his thick cock inside you, causing a groan to slip from between his gritted teeth. he loves it when you slam your hips into his as your tongues collide, causing a cacophony of moans to fill the room. he bites your bottom lip as his lithe fingers dig into the flesh of your ass brutally.
"you’re such a fucking whore," aegon growls breathlessly. “you might as well belong in a pleasure house.”
aegon watches closely as his cock disappears into your pussy, getting impossibly harder whenever you repeatedly scream his name. each harsh stroke inside of your cunt feels so fucking good. aegon can’t get enough of you humping him like a feral animal, and when he can no longer control himself, he grabs your hips and violently slams you down onto him.“fuck — just like this.” call him your king and aegon is instantly cumming.
#daemon targeryen x reader#daemon x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#jace velaryon x reader#jace targaryen x reader#jace x reader#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii x reader#aegon x reader#hotd smut#jacerys velaryon#millie’s works — 📓
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Unexpected…
Parings: Hobie Brown x Reader
Summary:You’ve been staying up at ungodly hours due to the bountiful amount of work you had from school. Your good friend Hobie comes over one night to help you stop your stressing and sleep. But the night had different plans for you both.
Inspo: Wet by GRLWood
Warning(s): NSFW (mdni), mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, mentions of sex work, NOT proofread (cause I didn’t feel like it). If you see any errors… no you didn’t.
Thursday, 3AM
You sat at the desk in your room typing away on your laptop with a bowl of various fruits next to it. The flexi rod curls you put every ounce of arm strength you had into almost didn’t exist anymore. Your reading glasses slid from the bridge of your nose to the tip of it, making it easier to see the chanel bags slowly forming under your eyes. Unknowingly, your back hunched over the longer you sat down and tried to complete the third essay assigned to you this week.
You were exhausted. But you had a fuck ton of english work to do and insomnia kept you awake. Your regret for majoring in psychology grew with every indentation and word you typed on the keyboard.
Just as you were about to start typing the third to last paragraph, a soft rhythmic knock on the window startled you. Your body jolted at the unexpected sound causing your glasses to slide further down your nose. Using your middle finger to push them back to their proper position, you turned your head in the direction of the window and almost all of your stress left your body when you saw him.
Hobie, your best friend with the cool hair, stood outside with his contagious smile painted across his face as he waved at you with his long, slender, ring decorated fingers. His torso was covered halfway with a black crop top you ripped and designed for him and a spiked leather vest you spray painted the anarchy symbol on the back of. He wore black ripped jeans that were secured on his hips by a spiked belt and chains dangling from the belt loops.
Fuck, he looks so good.
Pushing your thoughts to the side, you pushed your chair back and stood up to open your window for for the 6’5 man. “Hey, Hobie.” You greeted him with a soft smile, watching him climb into your room and start to take his boots off before closing the window. He walked towards your bed and threw himself on it, placing his hands behind his head and crossed one leg over the other.
“Wagwaan.” He greeted back with a lopsided smile. His smooth, deep voice and british accent always sounded so sultry to you. Every time you guys talked it felt like a challenge to see how long you can keep your self respect before you up and pounced on him.
“Well,” you began to respond as you sat back in your desk chair and tossed a grape into your mouth, “it’s three in the morning and I’m trying to finish… what? Like… the third, fourth essay I was assigned? Been working on it since probably ten or eleven.”
His beautiful pierced face immediately fell into a shocked expression with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. “You haven’t taken a break, have you?” All you could is shake your head and let out a long stressful sigh as you looked at your computer screen with visibly tired eyes.
“Not only is it because I can’t sleep, but I wanna get everything done ASAP. My work is do on Sunday an-”
“It’s due Sunday?!” He cut you off, his tone bursting with disbelief. You felt a laugh bubbling up in your chest hearing his thick accent but held it in, reaching into the bowl and eating a pineapple chunk. “You know that’s in three days, right?” He continued as he pressed his elbows into your soft mattress and sat up giving you a look that read “are you serious?”
“Of course I know that, but-”
“But nothin’, mate. Close the computer.” He cut you off again, gesturing his head towards it.
“Hobie-”
“Close it.”
Not having the energy to go back and forth with him, your eyes rolled in annoyance and you shut your laptop. You turned your head in his direction and saw that a closed mouth smile was painted across his face. “Oh, you’re happy now?” You asked with a deadpanned expression.
A low chuckle escaped his throat watching you mug him as he nodded his head. The sound had you doing backflips mentally as your face began to heat up slightly. “Knowin’ that you aren’t nose deep into a screen goin’ mad about somethin’ that’s due in seventy two hours? Yeah, I’m quite happy.”
He swung his legs off your bed and sat up, reaching over to grab a mango chunk and tossed it into his mouth. As he chewed he saw your face drop into a “are you deadass?” look. He stopped chewing for a moment, awkwardly looked to the side and back to your face.
“Yeah, Hobs! You can take one!” You voiced with sarcasm as you threw your arms up and back down to your sides. He gave you an apologetic smile as he started to slowly chew the sweet and refreshing fruit again. “What made you come here at this time of night though? Can’t think of anywhere to steal from?” You asked playfully with a teasing smirk.
A light laugh came from him as he finished chewing before he responded. “I actually didn’t feel like stealin’ until you mentioned it.” You chuckled and shook your head at his antics. “But, nah. I couldn’t sleep and I knew you’d be up so I thought why not come over and bother you.”
“Ahhh… so what you do almost every day!” Both of you erupted into laughter at your comment. He knew that you were joking, and you knew you enjoyed his presence a little too much.
“Oh, come out of it. You know you love when I’m around.” He spoke as you guys’ laughter died down. Placing his hands on your bed, he leaned back bit and gave you a cocky smile.
Oh, he know he fine.
“Eh, sometimes.” You shrug playfully, reaching into the fruit bowl and munching on another grape. He reaches for the bowl again and takes a kiwi slice, but you don’t mind this time.
Once he done chewing he begins to speak. “Are you saying that because I always beat you in Uno?” You gave him a bored expression as you watched the smile on face grow.
“Hobie, please. You beat me that one time-”
“And I beat you three times in a row.”
You scoffed at his cocky behavior and crossed your arms. “I bet it won’t happen again.” You eyed him up and down with a mischievous glint in your eyes.
He gave you the same look as one of his eyebrows lifted in feigned curiosity. “Is that a challenge?”
It was now four in the morning. You sat on your bed with your back against the headboard and the gorgeous punk sat in front of you with crisscrossed legs, his leather vest now off his shoulders and hung on the back of your desk chair. You guys were two intense Uno games in, Hobie being the winner of both of them.
“Uno.” He announced with a lopsided grin as he placed a yellow three card and red three card down at the same time. You were starting to lose hope. You held the two cards you had thinking hard about the multiple possibilities of how this game could end. Until…
“UNO OUT!” You exclaimed slightly with a proud grin as you slammed a red skip card and red eight card down. You finally won a game after what felt like hours of playing.
He also gave you a proud smile as he began to pick up all of the cards that were piled on your mattress. “You finally beat my streak. ‘M proud of you.”
The voice. The Smile. His Confidence. Now the praise. It was all slowly becoming too much. His comment made your heart beat a bit faster, waves of heat traveling from your head and down to your lower region. It caused your sensitive bud to throb gently, and you crossed one leg over the other to somehow bring it to a halt.
He’s gonna be the death of me, I swear.
“Wanna play another game?” He asked when he was done picking up all of the playing cards. You sighed softly as you crossed your arms and shook your head.
“Nah, I just wanted to beat you in at least one game of Uno. Got tired of you talking shit.” He chucked at your confession and wrapped the rubber band you used to keep the cards together back around them. “But we can play connect four if you’re down. I’ll definitely win the first game.”
“Oh, I’ve got to see this.” He spoke with a sarcastic laugh. “I’ll go get the game.”
He got off your bed and walked towards the closet, opening it and instantly scanning the top shelf for the box. You pulled your phone from underneath your pillows and scrolled through instagram as you waited for him to come back with the second challenge for the night. Your cluttered top shelf slipped your mind as you thought you wouldn’t even have company today.
When he found the game, he tried to pull it out of its position without knocking anything down. But it all happened so quickly. As he began to pull the Connect 4 box out, so did Candy Land which was right beneath it. He reached his unoccupied hand out to make sure that game didn’t fall in the process, but he didn’t know that these two board games were keeping a pink Shoe Dazzle box from falling as well.
He successfully got Connect 4 from your top shelf without another game falling, but he didn’t see the pink box making its way out of the closet as well. When it fell, it landed on the side which caused the top to fall off as it hit the floor. He looked down and watched what was inside of the box roll out in awe.
Various sex toys with different shapes, sizes and functions were now scattered across the floor in front of her closet. A pink massage wand, black seven inch dildo and a black silicone butt plug with a blue gemstone on the bottom of it were the main toys that caught his attention since they were so close to his feet. He wanted to speak. He tried to speak. But he was too stunned to try and even utter a word.
There’s no way she has all of this. Am I dreaming?
The sound of the box hitting the floor made you look up from your phone with a confused expression, but it was immediately taken over with disbelief and shock. Your eyes were so wide you’re surprised they didn’t fall out of your head. Your jaw hung so low it would probably hit the floor if you were standing. The gasp you let out was so sharp and loud it made Hobie turn his head in your direction. You can see the disbelief in his face as well and that alone made tears start to form into your eyes.
All you could do is grab a pillow and sit it on your lap, plop your head on it to hide your face and scream. Your face was so warm in embarrassment that it felt like it could melt off any second now. You can feel your friends stare on you, searching for answers in a way, but you couldn’t even look at the man.
There was a long, unbearable silence between the both of you. So much tension in the room that it could be cut with a knife. You sat with your face buried into your pillow, take deep breaths to calm yourself down before you finally built the courage to get off your bed and walk towards the “mess” that was created. Without looking at the handsome man next to you, you squatted down and placed the box down with the opening facing the ceiling and began putting everything back where it was before.
“Uhh… you need help with tha-” Hobie spoke awkwardly in attempt to break the loud silence. He put his hands up in surrender and backed up a bit when he saw you side eye him with a displeased expression.
(I had to use the picture this was the PERFECT opportunity to do so 😭)
You continued to pick up your toys, still without uttering a word or even looking at him. From your peripheral vision you saw his feet step away from his position next to you and heard his footsteps stop where your bed was located. You assumed he sat and your bed again, maybe to give you some space. You picked up the cardboard top and slammed it onto the box when you were done picking everything up, instantly getting up and putting it back on the top shelf in your closet.
You kept your head down as you closed the closet and walked to your previous spot before all of this: your desk chair. Still not being able to look at the company on your bed, your hand reached for your closed laptop until…
“Don’t even think about it, bruv.” Hobie stopped you with a playful scowl in his tone crossing his arms. All you could do is let out a dramatic sigh, cross your arms on the desk and place your head on them, hiding your face once again.
Hobie eyed your movements the entire time. He understood why you were embarrassed, wanting to curl yourself into ball and just hide. But he didn’t understand why you were acting this way towards him. Of course he was shocked that you out of all people had all of this… material. You’re the introverted, shy, kind of nerdy and laid back friend. Always at home with your head stuffed into a comic or manga, loved sleep more than anything, would rather write than talk. Just the opposite of him and he didn’t mind that.
But he didn’t understand why you thought he cared about your secret box so much. This wasn’t gonna make him think about you any different. If anything, he was more curious and a bit turned on after finding out such covert information.
He decided to try and break the silence again. “This isn’t as bad as you’re makin’ it seem, love.” You can hear the sincerity in his tone, his sultry voice and the pet name he used still had your sensitive bud aching for attention.
He couldn’t see it, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his statement. “What do you mean?” You questioned without lifting your head.
“It was a little unexpected, but it’s not botherin’ me in any way. Your personality isn’t in that box.” His honesty never faltered as he let out a light chuckle, gesturing his hand in the direction of your closet.
You scoffed at his statement in disbelief, finally sitting up and crossing your arms as you gazed at the wall in front of you. He was starting to get annoyed at the lack of eye contact and he sucked his teeth, glaring at the side of your face. “Look at me, mate.”
You heard the seriousness in his voice, and you closed your eyes taking a a deep breath before opening them and turning your head in his direction. Finally locking your eyes with his, you searched for any vacillation that could be hidden. But there was only sincerity. He meant every word he said.
“I’m sorry, Hobie. It’s just…” You trailed off looking to the side for a moment before looking back him. “You saw everything in that box. My childhood best friend doesn’t even know what’s in there. How am I supposed to believe that you don’t care about what you just saw?”
“Because I don’t.” He shrugged with a sarcastic laugh. “If I’m bein’ completely honest, the only thing I’m wonderin’ is how and why you have so many. I’ve never met someone with a box full of sex toys. Shit, I don’t even have that many.”
Your face fell into a curious expression as you listened to his words. “You have sex toys-”
“It’s not about me right now.” He spoke quickly shaking his head.
You chuckled at his quickness to dismiss your question. “Well, to stop your wondering…” You trailed off again with a sigh, scratching the back of your head nervously.
Am I really gonna tell him this?
You saw his eyebrows raise, eager to hear what you had to say.
Might as well just tell him. It doesn’t make sense to hide this now.
You blew a raspberry, preparing yourself to inform your friend of your biggest secret. “Long story short… I’m a sex worker. About a year and some change now. The financial aid package I receive from my college falls short on covering the cost of the tuition and other expenses. I don’t wanna put myself through five hours of class and then seven to eight hours of labor to make ends meet. So, I started looking into sex work. Seeing how much I could possibly make, the different types of content that people would pay for, the fact that I’d be working any time and anywhere I wanted was a plus as well. Now, here I am: I make about eight hundred dollars weekly, two to three thousand monthly. It’s enough to make sure I can pay for college and still do what I want.”
When you finished your confession, Hobie was left speechless with a slack jaw. He blinked a couple times to try and process the information he was given. His friend who couldn’t even socialize for more than two hours… Is a cam girl?
…Why is this kind of hot?
He picked up his jaw and cleared his throat, shaking the thoughts out of his head with a deep sigh. His behavior made all of the negative feelings you had before resurface. You looked down at the floor with shame as you shook your head.
“I knew I should’ve just kept my mouth shut-”
“No, no, no, no, no!” He quickly stopped you from finishing your sentence waving his hands. “I meant everythin’ I said before. None of this is gonna change my perspective of you. It’s just…”
He trailed off, the naughty thoughts he had slowly clouded his mind again. He felt his blood slowly rush to the head of his member thinking about the fact that he was sitting on the bed that you made some of your content on. You could’ve made yourself cum on the sheets you currently have on your mattress today, and thought of him sitting in the spot where you probably left a big, creamy mess was driving him mad.
“Hobie?” You spoke with a bit of worry as you noticed him zone out. You watched as he swallowed thickly and blinked twice, the leg that hung off your bed beginning to sway from side to side. You bit your lip to hide the smile that was threatening to paint your face at the scene.
Ahh, I see what’s up.
He felt his length throb softly, the feeling made him groan but he attempted to hide it with a deep, throaty chuckle. The sound not only made your entrance clench with need, but it gave you a bit of confidence to say your next words.
“Do you wanna see how I make my content?” The slight seduction in your voice caught him off guard, his head shot up to look at you with a shocked expression. You could see the desire in his eyes start to expand at your question.
“Wai- what?” He stammered breathlessly. He didn’t know where your sudden boldness came from, but he didn’t mind as it made it him throb again, his manhood slowly becoming erect.
“I know you heard me, Hobie.” You answered teasingly with a voluptuous grin and. “It’s a simple yes or no question.”
There goes that silence again. Sexual tension building as you eyed each other down. Once you both saw that y’all were on the same page, you smiled at each other with a knowing glint in your eyes. Y’all began to stand and walk towards each other with only one thought in mind:
“Finally.”
You were now laying on your bed with your torso completely exposed, showing off the nipple piercings that Hobie didn’t know you had. He swore it was as if he was finding treasure with every second he spent with you. Your legs were spread wide open to expose the red lace thong you’ve been sporting, revealing a small wet stain that your aching core left on it.
Hobie sat in your desk chair that he moved to the front of your bed, his torso also completely on display. The sight of his lanky yet toned and muscular physique only made you wetter. His boxer briefs were still attached to his lower half, his erection very prominent and aching to see what was next. Your tripod stood next him with your phone placed on it horizontally as it recorded.
“I’m so wet for you already. Dripping through my thong for you.” You spoke seductively, moving your body closer to the tripod and gorgeous man in front of you. Even though you looked into camera the whole time, he knew every word was meant for him.
“I only get this wet for you, baby. I’ve been waiting so fucking long to show you how I make myself cum when I think about you.” As if read each other’s minds, both of you placed a hand on your chest and slowly dragged it down to your most sensitive parts. Your hand slid inside your thong as his began to gently palm his shaft over his boxers, biting his lip to hold the groan that was ready to escape his throat.
The hand you slipped into your underwear made it’s way to your throbbing clit, your natural juices already coated all over your flower. You slowly and gently began to rub your sensitive button in circles, a low moan escaping your lips at the smooth feeling. The sound of your arousal squelching echoed off the walls in your room, drawing a low grunt from the half naked man at the foot of your bed as he continued to palm himself.
“I’ll show you how pretty she is, only if I get to see how hard the sound of my needy pussy made you first. Can you do that for me?” You continued to play with yourself, applying the tiniest amount of pressure. He immediately lifted his hips and slid his boxers off of his hips with ease.
His length was finally revealed to you, springing out effortlessly with him sighing blissfully at the feeling. Watching it slap his stomach gently, the tip going past his belly button, had you moaning at the sight. Your leaking entrance clenched with need as you thought of his member thrusting into you slow and hard, the prominent veins rubbing against your smooth, wet walls deliciously.
“Mmmm~ that dick is so pretty.” You admitted as you lifted your hips to remove your thong. You slid it off your legs and threw it in a random direction away from you. Your other set of lips spread slowly as you opened your legs again, showcasing your beautiful sensitive flower glistening with your wetness. “It’s so hard for me already, babe. I know you wish you stretching this tight, wet, warm pussy with every inch.” Your hand reached for your slit, spreading your labia to display your opening.
It was already starting to become too much for Hobie. The way you uttered such naughty words with ease, how you played with your beautiful pussy so delicately, the way you looked into the camera with such lust and longing desire. He bit his lip at the alluring sight before him, eyes rolling back as they closed for a moment when his shaft throb for attention.
You moved your hand so that you were touching your delicate bud again, letting out a pornographic moan as you started to rub it in circles again. “I wanna watch you make yourself feel good too, baby. Spit on your hand, get that aching cock nice and wet for me, and stroke it nice and slow. I don’t want you getting close too fast, okay?”
He instantly did what your smooth, gentle voice commanded him to do. The sensation of his moisturized hand slowly sliding down to the base of his length made a deep groan fall from his lips. He slid his hand up to his tip with the same pace, hissing at the feeling of himself softly pulsate in his grip. He found a rhythm rather quickly, a rhythm that already had his head lulling back in bliss as he imagined it was your pretty, dripping hole gripping him gently as you rode his erect member.
“Mmn~ fuck.” You whimpered as you felt your opening leak more of your sweet extract at the lustful view of his now glistening girth pulsate in his slender hands. The friction of his hand spreading his spit around him could be heard as he watched you play with yourself. “You’re throbbing so hard for me already. You like watching me play with my needy pussy for you, baby?” Your hand moved downward to tease your leaking hole, and you let out a short, low purr followed by a sharp gasp when you felt the tip of your middle finger almost enter.
The pretty boy in front of you analyzed your face and body with hooded eyes clouded with hunger and eagerness to cum with you, wishing it was the tip of his dick teasing your entrance. A deep, animalistic growl escaped his throat as he began to thrust his hips into hand at a steady pace. “Shit.” He moaned when he started to flick his wrist as he continued to caress his length, stroking at faster pace.
“Ooh~ my finger slides in so easily.” You moaned breathlessly when you felt your smooth, greedy walls suck your digit into yourself. You slowly thrusted your coated finger in and out twice before pulling it out, watching a string of your arousal stretch from your core attached to your digit. The strand of your extract broke when brought your hand to your face, sucking the juices off but making sure your finger was still moist enough so you can slip it into your hungry opening again.
Hobie grunted eagerly as he watched you. His release was building up slowly, but he held it in. “So fucking good.” He groaned lowly feeling his pleasure intensify, the pace he stroked his girth never faltering.
You eased your index finger in after penetrating yourself with your middle for a while, your mouth falling agape at the delightful feeling of being stretched out slightly. Curving your slick digits upwards, another sharp gasp escaped your mouth as you felt the tip of them gently press again a spongy spot inside your dripping core. “Oh, yes, right fucking there.” You whined desperately at the new feeling, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you continued motioning your fingers upward.
At this point you and Hobie forgot about the phone that was recording your sinful actions and naughty sounds. You were both in a state of euphoria— the sensual noises coming from guy’s mouth, your arousal squelching and leaking nonstop with every thrust of your fingers, the sight you both had as you watched each other masturbate intensely with the same amount of eagerness. It was enough to bring you both closer to that release y’all were so desperate to receive.
Your hips bucked into your hand as the pace you thrusted your dripping fingers became faster and sloppier, your free hand gripping the covers on your bed tightly as you felt the small pressure in your stomach start to expand. “Fuck, Hobie, I’m gonna cum so hard for you. I’m so close, baby~, i’m so close.” You babbled mindlessly as you brought the hand that was gripping your sheets to you aching clit, rubbing it in steady circles to quicken the arrival of your powerful orgasm.
“M’ right behind you, love. Get that nut, baby. Fuck… I’m right there with you.” He encouraged you with a growl. The pet names, his seductive voice, and seeing the pace of his thrusting hips increase as he watched you bring yourself to the most mind shattering orgasm was all you needed to make the pressure in stomach pop as you made a delicious mess on the bed and floor below you.
Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head and jaw fell open as you came with a long, loud, moan. Your juices flew out of your pulsating entrance when you quickly removed your fingers from inside of you, rubbing your clit in circles rapidly making your squirting essence fly in any and every direction.
Hobie watched the voluptuous scene in front of him with a slightly gaped mouth, breathing heavily and rapidly as it brought him to his climax. His eyebrows furrowed in bliss, his stomach and testicles tightening as he milked himself with his hand. A loud groan exited his throat as he angled his girth towards his stomach and released, ropes of his seed painting his beautiful melanated torso. The hand he used to jerk himself off reduced its speed as he slowly came down from his high.
You both sat in your current positions regulating your breathing after the intense mutual masturbation session. When your breathing began to balance out, you heard a quiet whimper come from the attractive man in front of you. Your eyes made their way to him, seeing him slowly stroke his still erect girth with his head thrown back.
You threw your legs off your bed and got off of it, walking towards the tripod and stopping the recording. You sent the video to Hobie before making your way in front him, kneeling down and gently placing your hand on his thighs as you looked up at his pretty fucked out face. He felt your hands run up his thighs and to his hand to remove it from his length.
He looked down at the beautiful woman in front of him with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she planned on doing. All of his wonder went out the window when he watched her bring one of her hands to his thick, long member jerking him up and down once just to feel him throb. She then brought her head down a bit, slowly licking a wet line from his balls to the sensitive spot below his tip as she looked him in his eyes with hers feigning innocence.
“Fuck. Baby, don’t tease me like that.” He he groaned breathlessly at the sensation. She chuckled seductively at his words, kissing the head of his dick before spitting on it. She brought her hand back to his length to spread the moisture around him, feeling her lower region begin to ache for attention again when she heard him whine at the feeling of her warm fist starting to jerk him off at an agonizingly slow pace.
Hobie’s eyebrows creased in confusion when he felt her stop her movements, but his confused expression was immediately replaced with a slack jaw and his eyes rolling back when he felt her lips wrap around him gently. “Mmm~ so soft.” He moaned as she pushed her head lower onto him with her humming at the taste of him taking over her tastebuds.
“Oh- ooh, shit. What the fuck?” He moaned blissfully in bewilderment as she immediately slid his girth down her throat. She contracted the walls of her throat around his manhood as she started moving her head up and down.
The feeling of her warm lips and wet, tight throat wrapped around him has his eyes behind his head for the thousandth time tonight. One of his slender hands made their way to her soft, messy hair, gripping it gently as he held her head down and began to thrust his hips into her face. “Your throat feels so good, doll. Oh, my…” He trailed off with a needy whine.
He thrusted his hips faster, her eyes beginning to water as he slid further and further down her esophagus. She felt him gently throb in her mouth as she mentally thanked the man above for not having a gag reflex. She hummed around him once more to bring him closer to his second release.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh, f-fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum. I’m-” His babbling stopped abruptly due to his climax crashing down on him. He groaned breathlessly as he throbbed repeatedly and came down her throat, still holding her head down and keeping his hips still.
Once she felt his member slowly start to become flaccid, she pulled her head up and removed her lips from him with a pop. She looked up at him with innocent eyes as she swallowed every drop of cum he fed her, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out to show him afterwards.
He smiled proudly at the sight, watching her come up from her position on the floor and straddle his laptop. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hers made their way around his neck and rested on the back of her chair. “I didn’t think you had that in you, love.” He spoke teasingly as he looked up at her with his bright, gorgeous smile.
She chuckled at his comments before responding. “You didn’t think I had a lot of things inside me. Now look at where we are.” You both laughed lightly at your statement, Hobie pushing you down towards him by your back and gently pressing his lips onto yours.
You instantly melted into the kiss as he gripped your thighs and stood up with your legs wrapped around his hips. He walked towards your bed and laid you down on it, him laying next to you as you guy’s lips separated. You faced each other, one of your hands making their way to the back his neck as you started to playing in his hair.
“So, about those sex toys you mentioned earlier…” You spoke with a playful grin.
“Oh, my days- no. Good night.” He responded with playful frustration, Shuffling his body closer to yours and stuffing his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. You laughed at his tone and words, holding him close to you as you rubbed his back gently.
Both of you enjoyed the fact that after engaging in such sinful activities, you can still joke around like nothing happened. You also really appreciated how he didn’t judge you and made sure that you knew his intentions and perspective of you were still pure… kind of. He really enjoyed what went down tonight, and he hoped that you guys could do it again sometime.
And you felt the same exact way.
I know the ending seems rushed I apologize guys 😭 I said this was gonna be posted Thursday night and I MEANT IT okay. But I hope you guys enjoyed!! My first smut on tumblr and more to come 💕
#mdni#hobie my beloved#hobie brown smut#hobie brown x reader#spiderman atsv#atsv#spider punk#spider punk smut#hobie brown x black!reader#hobart brown#hobart brown x reader#hobart brown x black!reader#hobart brown smut#spider punk x reader#spider punk x you#spider punk x black!reader#atsv x reader#atsv smut#marvel
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a fic about jealous harvey?
..thoughts?
A/N: jealous Harvey has me
Harvey didn’t often feel the need to prove himself. He was a self-assured, confident, successful man. He got what he wanted and his biggest desire was you. You two had known each other for years, only realizing you would be a perfect couple in the last year. And in that time, Harvey had never felt jealous.
Except for now.
You were incredibly respectful of the relationship you had with Harvey. You used to flirt (among other things) with clients in order to get what you needed. Ever since you and Harvey had made things official, you’d stopped doing anything of the sort. But that didn’t stop clients from attempting to make advances on you.
Your boyfriend didn’t often feel concerned about the advances they attempted, because you respectfully always declined their offers for dinner, declined their offering of their arm when walking into the court house, etc. But Harvey couldn’t stop the anger bubbling inside of his chest when he saw Mark Daniels.
Mark Daniels was CEO of Harper National, a newfound AI company that had gained an enormous amount of legal attention in the past few months due to a battle over company rights. He was arrogant, charming, good-looking, and beyond wealthy. He was similar to Harvey, which is why your boyfriend was so angry.
Daniels was constantly trying to beat Harvey, holding your coat open for you when meetings had finished, grabbing you a coffee, tea, or water at the start of depositions, and buying you dinner every time he saw you, even if he had left the building before it was close to dinner time. The man had it delivered to your office, once even as you had sat down in Harvey’s office with the dinner he had bought for you.
The problem seemed to be that Harvey couldn’t just discuss his feelings with you, but instead decided he had to beat Mark at his own game, which meant that you were in the middle of a stupid men’s war.
“And can you be sure that-“ You stopped talking, confused as Harvey entered the conference room.
“I’m heading out, just wanted to quickly say ‘goodbye.”
“Oh, okay, goodbye Harvey,” you replied with a polite smile. It faltered when he moved around the conference table to bend down and press a kiss to your cheek.
“Harvey-“you began, a little shocked at the display of unprofessionalism.
“We’re in the middle of something, here,” Daniels spoke up.
Harvey opened his mouth to speak, but your eyes flashed dangerously at him and he shut his mouth. You watched as he sent a smirk towards Daniels as he walked out. It took everything you had in you not to yell at the two men. Sighing, you refocused on the documents in front of you.
——————
“Hey, sweetheart,” Harvey greeted as you walked into his apartment. He took one look at your face and furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” You asked, anger growing as you threw your bag into a nearby chair. “How about that display of ridiculous toxic masculinity you decided you needed to show earlier?”
“You mean in the conference room? I was just saying goodby-“
“No, you were trying to prove to the man what you think is yours, which I am not. I am not yours, I am not anybody’s and I know that man gets under your skin but you-“
“Get under my skin- the man tries to shove the fact that he wants you in my face!” Harvey argued, tossing the dish towel angrily onto the counter.
“But I don’t want him!”
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
“Because I am not going to leave, Harvey! Mark Daniels is not in your league! And he is certainly not attractive to me! He is not my boyfriend and I know that you are scared of losing me, scared that what we have will mean nothing, and I know why, but I am not what happened in your past. And I know you love me, even if you haven’t said anything.”
“How can you know that?” Your boyfriend asked, fear quickly flashing in his eyes before he masked it once more.
"Because I know who you are. I just know, Harvey," you deadpanned, your anger softening. "I know that you tell people we met at a bar because you want our meeting place to be intimate to just us. I know that you were sick when we went up north, but I knew you weren't ready to be that type of vulnerable with me that early in our relationship. I know that your favorite show isn't that law one you like, but actually Will and Grace. I know when you ask me to marry you, it will be because you can't hold it in anymore, and I know that on our wedding day you will say something ridiculous that will make me laugh and two seconds later you will say the most romantic thing I've ever heard. I know that you look not only at my ass and boobs, but at my stomach. I see the way your eyes soften, the way you stare, imagining me pregnant with your child. I know you, I know Harvey Specter. And the next time you get jealous, you remember that."
You finished your rant, slightly out of breath, chest heaving. A flurry of emotions crossed Harvey's face. He looked as though he was about to say something, but thought better of it. Instead he quickly crossed the few steps to you, his lips slamming into yours, arms coming around your waist, bringing you into him like his life depended on it.
Your hands moved up to his neck and hair while he picked you up easily. You could tell he was trying to do anything to get closer to you, like nothing would ever be close enough for him.
“You are the most amazing woman I have ever met,” he murmured against your lips.
“I know.”
#harvey specter x reader#harvey specter#harvey specter imagine#harvey specter x femreader#suits#mine#suits fanfic
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Been spending my time lately thinking of a House MD au where, through a series of accidents and lies and a bet he didn't rly intend to win, House ends up as a registered foster parent (he's still addicted to Vicodin and his normal dickish workaholic self but for some reason he cleared the requirements and trust me he's as stunned and mildly concerned as everyone else is).
Through further Shenanigans™, he ends up accidentally getting handed fostership of not one, not two, but three hellish but brilliant kids:
1. This total smartass 16 year old named Robert Chase who yeah he's a bitchy teenaged boy and a former rich kid and Australian with enough mommy and daddy issues to reawaken Freud after his dad dipped and absconded all parental rights and his mom drank herself to death, but he's also got a nice car left over from his rich kid days and an eye for detail and weirdly enough his best friend/mortal enemy (some other teen named Eric Foreman) and his on again off again girlfriend (Allison Cameron, totally won't last if u ask House) both work at the hospital as a candy striper and after school in the cafeteria respectively so House can get all the inside gossip from Chase. Plus Chase has no problems breaking and entering into patient's homes which helps bc since he's not employed by the hospital Cuddy can't complain as far as House is concerned.
2. A 14 year old girl who only answers to Thirteen (House knows he could look her name up in her file but honestly it drives Chase nuts that she won't tell him her real name and that's good enough for him) and who's dad was declared unfit after the death of his wife to Huntington's devastated him. She's a total nightmare, snarky and quick witted and freakishly smart even tho she puts most of those smarts towards things like shaving Chase's entire head (eyebrows included) bc he's trying to grow a sucky teenage mustache, and trying to take House's wallet bc she keeps calling him Old Man and he informed her he's actually only 25 but the stress of fostering has aged him prematurely and she's like 95% sure that's a lie but she wants to check his license and make sure bc everyone lies. She loves tormenting Chase by telling him his best friend and/or his girlfriend is hot and asking if they're single.
And 3. This 6 year old boy named Lawrence Kutner who's weirdly cheerful considering his parents got killed in front of him. He's way too chatty and excellent at puzzles and the only morning person in the entire house and therefore frequently tries to make breakfast (he likes to be helpful and he hasn't burned the place down yet so House doesn't feel the need to stop him). Once he told House he was gonna build a Death Star in the living room and House said lol sure go ahead whatever, only to return home from work to discover Kutner called himself out from school and has a huge wooden frame made of broken furniture in the living room. House rly can't argue since he did say go ahead. Benefits of fostering a 6 year old are 1. The babes love it, 2. Free excuse to leave work early/come in late/not show up at all, and 3. Justification for buying juice boxes and Ritz crackers. The neighbor kid Taub is his go to babysitter bc his mom volunteered him forcibly and Taub is lowkey praying that babysitting Kutner could lead to an in at Princeton Plainsboro once he graduates high-school and finishes medical school (it won't, House doesn't believe in nepotism unless it benefits him).
The adventures of House and his Foster Ducklings mostly revolve around being a Found Family, but do involve frequent plots such as:
House fired his brand new fellows again (he tosses em every three or so months, he hasn't found The Right Team yet) and will sometimes bring his foster kids in, hand em doctors coats, and tell patients that they're just a bunch of medical savants here to consult yes even the 6 year old he's actually Harvard's youngest graduate ever.
House sends the kids to break into a patient's home. They refuse. House tells them the first one to find black mold or lead paint or a dead animal or whatever gets $20. They agree. Chase drops Thirteen and Kutner off at a bus stop across town and drives over himself so he can get an hour and a half head start (ultimate fuck them kids moment, however Thirteen did steal his wallet so guess who's paying for lunch and their taxi ride to the patient's house? Net loss.)
Cuddy demands House does his clinic hours. House sends his foster kids to do his clinic hours for him. Tfw you go to the free walk in clinic for a sore throat and a cough and your doctor is a 6 year old boy who keeps asking for help with spelling whilst filling out your chart.
Wilson babysits them one (1) time since House doesn't trust Chase not to throw a party or sell his foster siblings on eBay if left as the one in charge. He wakes up with a big strip of hair poorly bleached right down the middle. Chase crushed up stolen sleeping pills and mixed them into a juice box, which Kutner 'innocently' offered to Wilson. Thirteen was going to bleach and dye his whole head blue (for practice, she wants to dye her hair but she's certainly not gonna fuck up her own hair until she has the method down) but Wilson woke up pretty quickly due to years of House drugging him. Wilson has not offered to babysit again.
Anyways this is my House Foster Ducklings au which I'm thinking about actually writing. Thank u 🫡
#house md#greg house#robert chase#remy hadley#lawrence kutner#i just think Chase and Thirteen and Kutner are the most House's Actual Kids out of all the fellows#give that man three incredibly smart self reliant kids with issues™#i do imagine a plot where House does overdose of vicodin#and the kids find him#and they're in the hospital#and House has to contend with the fact that he either has to give the kids up to better homes#or make smarter choices bc it's unfair of him to be overdosing and almost dying when he has three traumatized kids relying on him#love when there's some middle aged guy whos like 'no im not a dad' but has a gaggle of kids following him around#feel free to message me about this au
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Hello, how are you? Could i request an angsty but smutty and fluff fic of Elijah and reader where they get into a fight but makeup in the end?
Stubborn
18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}
You and Elijah get into a fight about his protective nature. He thinks you are too stubborn, and you think he's too controlling. How will you resolve your issues?
♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I don't know if this is very angsty, but it certainly is very smutty ♡♡
4.1k words - Warnings: smuttttt, very little plot, Cami being the best, dom!elijah (you like him in control? well... here you go...), fingering, squirting, angry sex...
"I'm not some damsel in distress, I don't need your protection!" You yelled, louder than you meant to. Arguing with Elijah was always a test of your restraint. He made it so damn difficult, he was always calm and composed. Sometimes you just wanted to push his buttons.
"Darling, I have so many enemies, and you're not invincible." He tried to reason.
"Don't patronize me, I know that, but you treat me like I can't take care of myself!" You snapped, pacing around the living room. You tried to calm yourself down, you didn't want to say something you'd regret, but the anger bubbling inside you wouldn't go away.
"I'm not trying to patronize you, I just think you could make better decisions." He said softly, his eyes following you as you paced.
"It's like you're treating me like a child! We're supposed to be equals, and you always talk to me like you're the parent and I'm the kid!" Your voice cracked a little, when you got angry you also would cry. You hated that about yourself.
Elijah could see the pain in your eyes, you were his soft and sweet y/n. He just wanted to protect you. He tried to approach you, to hold you and comfort you, but you pushed him away.
His actions made you feel weak, and foolish, here was a man that faced countless dangers, he was centuries old, he fought vampires and werewolves, witches and even his own siblings. And you were just this fragile thing, this tiny human he had to watch out for. It made you feel so weak and pathetic, all your insecurities bubbling up inside you, the tears falling down your cheeks.
You stormed away from him, and he let you, because he knew if he pushed you, it would just make things worse.
You had been dating Elijah for two months now, and in that time, he had taken on the role of a protective boyfriend. You liked being taken care of, but sometimes it felt like he didn't see you as an equal.
You had been arguing about this a lot lately. You didn't like being treated like you were breakable. You weren't. You had dealt with plenty of dangers in your life, and he didn't give you enough credit.
He was a stubborn man, and you were a stubborn woman, so the tension kept rising, until you finally had to get away from him. So you decided to stay at Cami's for a few days, she was a good friend, and she didn't judge you. She could always use some company anyways.
"So, he's a bit over protective, huh?" Cami asked. You were curled up on her couch, drinking a glass of wine. You were both having a night in, wearing pajamas and doing self-care.
"Yeah, and I know he means well, but I really value my independence, it's not something I'm willing to give up," You admitted.
"Do you feel like he doesn't respect you?" She asked, taking a sip of her own wine.
"No, he does, I know that, but it feels like he doesn't trust me." You said, looking down into your glass.
Cami stood and grabbed some snacks, tossing you a bag of your favorite chips. "I don't think that's it, I think he's scared. Scared to lose you. He's been through so much, and he's lost a lot of people he's loved." She said, plopping back down on the couch.
You let out a long sigh, you knew of his pain, but it was still hard to hear out loud. He held all of his trauma inside him, and sometimes it was difficult for him to share, even with you.
"I love him Cami, it's just hard. I've always had to take care of myself, I guess I just have a hard time accepting someone wanting to do that for me." You said softly, feeling the tears brimming your eyes.
"Have you told him that? That you love him?" She asked.
"No, I... I want him to say it first." You admitted.
Cami chuckled and took a long sip of her wine, then grabbed the remote and turned on a movie. It was one of those sappy romances that were so over the top and cheesy. But that's why they were so fun to watch.
"Just tell him. I'm sure he loves you too." Cami said, her gaze fixed on the tv.
"I know," you sighed, "I just want him to initiate, his so reserved, and I'm tired of always being the one who has to take the first step." You grumbled.
"He's probably worried about scaring you away, or making things awkward, you know how he can be." She said, turning to look at you, giving you a comforting smile.
"Yeah, I guess." You mumbled, curling up further on the couch.
Cami gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and the two of you continued to watch your movie, the sappy love story playing out in front of you.
"So," she said, breaking the silence, "how's the sex?"
You choked on your wine, sputtering a bit before regaining your composure. Cami was a little shit sometimes.
"The sex is amazing," You said, smirking at her. "But... I'm always the one initiating it. Sometimes I think his biggest problem is that he's too gentlemanly."
"Well, what have you done to make him be more spontaneous?" Cami asked, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring more in her glass.
"Me?" You squeaked. "What did I do?"
"Maybe he doesn't want to take control because you never gave him permission." She asked.
You sat and thought about that. You were usually the one who would start things. You initiated kisses, hugs, hand holding, even the sex. Elijah was so reserved, so proper, he didn't want to overstep. It made you feel like he didn't desire you, which was ridiculous, you had seen him undressing you with his eyes.
"That's fair." You said. "I didn't realize he was waiting for permission."
"Men are idiots." Cami stated, making you laugh.
"Sometimes," you said, chuckling. "I just want to see him be the one to initiate, you know?"
"I know." She said, leaning back on the couch.
You finished the bottle of wine and watched the rest of the movie. It was so sweet, the ending was a happy one, the couple was together and they were in love. You wished life was that simple.
The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. Cami was already awake, making coffee.
"Ugh," you groaned, rubbing your temples. "I should have drank more water,"
"I tried to remind you." Cami said, smirking at you.
"Well, excuse me for being drunk," You replied.
She handed you a mug of coffee, and you sipped it slowly, letting the warmth of the drink soothe your throat.
"Thanks for letting me stay here," you said.
"You know I don't mind." She replied, sitting on the couch next to you.
You leaned your head on her shoulder, sighing.
"I love him, but I think I need some space. Some time to myself." You said softly.
"I think that's a good idea." She replied.
"Are we doing the right thing? Am I being selfish?" You asked, chewing your bottom lip.
"No, you're not. You're being realistic. You need some space and some time to yourself." She replied.
"I'm going to go to the compound and pick up some clothes and stuff." You said.
"Want me to come with you?" She asked.
"No, that's ok, I think I can handle myself." You replied, smiling at her.
She gave you a reassuring squeeze and you got up, feeling a bit better after your talk.
"Thanks Cami, I'll call you later," You said, grabbing your keys and heading out.
Elijah was sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking a glass of whiskey, and he had a book open in front of him, though he wasn't reading it. His mind was too preoccupied. He missed you terribly, it had only been a couple days, but it felt like an eternity.
He thought back to the last conversation you had had. You had stormed off, and he hadn't chased after you, because he knew you needed time to cool down. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, but he knew you didn't want to hear it right now.
You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he didn't want to lose you. He was used to losing people, he had spent centuries running, he had been betrayed, lied to, hurt. But he had never met anyone quite like you.
You were sweet, funny, smart, and caring. He had fallen for you quickly, but he had been too afraid to admit it. Like if he said it out loud, everything would fall apart.
But in your absence he realized his mistake, and how foolish he had been. No more wasting time, he needs to tell you that he loves you, despite how stubborn you are.
You walked into the compound, it was eerily quiet, you hoped Elijah was out. So you could just quickly grab your things and leave.
You didn't expect him to be waiting for you in the kitchen, his face was serious, but his eyes were full of emotion.
"Elijah, I'm just here to pick up some clothes," You said, trying to walk past him. He stepped in front of you, blocking your way.
"We need to talk." He said, his tone firm.
"No, we really don't, I just want my things," You said, trying to move around him. He moved again, his arms crossed, and his face was stern.
"Stop treating me like a child! Let me by!" You yelled. He let you pass him and you ran up to your bedroom, grabbing some clothes.
He followed you and stood in the doorway, watching you, his eyes boring into your skin.
"Stop looking at me like that," You said, throwing some clothes into a bag.
"I hate seeing you upset," He replied, his voice soft.
"I'm not upset, I'm just angry." You said, moving past him to go into the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush.
He followed you and leaned against the doorframe, watching you gather your toiletries.
"Please, let's just talk." He pleaded.
You sighed, looking up at him, his expression was pained, his jaw was clenched. You could see the desperation in his eyes. Your anger was still in charge though and you pushed past him again and started packing your things on the bed.
"So talk, I'm listening," You said harshly, still not looking at him.
He took a deep breath, his fists clenched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself. He knew he couldn't get through to you when you were angry like this.
"You're right," He said, opening his eyes and looking at you. "I'm sorry. I haven't been treating you fairly. I've been trying to protect you. But you are being stubborn and you're not letting me explain,"
You turned to look at him, trying to ignore how good he looked. His hair was messy, like he had been running his hands through it, and he was wearing a black shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie was hanging loose around his neck. A part of you wanted to just give in and kiss him, but the other part of you was still pissed off.
He could hear your heart beating faster, your body temperature rising. He knew that he had an effect on you, and he was enjoying seeing you get flustered. He gave you a crooked smirk, and took a step closer to you, and you backed up, hitting the bed.
You took a shaky breath, trying to steady your breathing. You were angry, but his presence always made your body react, and your head spin.
"So stubborn," he growled, pushing you onto the bed.
"Fuck you, Elijah," you hissed, trying to sit up.
"Not today," he smirked, pinning you down with his weight.
"I said, fuck you," You growled, pushing on his chest.
He chuckled and leaned down, his face inches from yours. His eyes were dark, his lips curled up in a devilish smile.
"Say please," He purred, his breath ghosting over your lips.
You let out a frustrated groan, and he kissed you, hard. You whimpered, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring it, tasting you.
"Is this what you want? To be fucked?" He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.
"No," you lied, trying to squirm away from him, but his grip was too tight.
"Don't lie, darling, your body betrays you," He growled, nibbling your earlobe before leaving a trail of hickeys down your neck.
He suddenly tore the shirt off of you, making you gasp. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling your skirt off.
"Eli- my clothes!" You whined, but he just chuckled, his eyes roaming your body.
"I'll buy you new ones," He smirked, nipping at your jaw, then capturing your lips with his.
"You can't just-" you were cut off by him biting your lip. You groaned and he released you, his hands roaming your body.
"Stop being so stubborn," He whispered, his fingers brushing over your lace panties, making you shiver.
"I'm not," you argued, biting back a moan as his fingers teased your clit.
He laid on his side next to you, opening your legs and pushing your panties out of the way. He grazed over your clit with the pad of his index finger, teasing you slowly. He loved this, teasing you, torturing you. You were so beautiful when you were desperate for him.
You whined and pushed your hips against his hand, and he pulled his hand away, smirking.
"You're such a tease," You growled, glaring at him.
"You're cute when you're angry," He smiled, his fingers returning to your pussy. He tapped your clit lightly, his lips ghosting over yours. You tried not to react, but it felt so good, this dominant side of him was driving you crazy.
He slid two fingers into you, and began thrusting them slowly. You gasped and arched your back, moaning loudly. Watching your reaction was thrilling, his cock was painfully hard, but he wanted to make you cum first.
"Listen to those sweet sounds," he purred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right. “So filthy and wet, the way your body responds, it's like you were made for me."
"You're a fucking asshole," you moaned, trying to buck your hips against his fingers.
"I can stop, if you want," He whispered, his voice dark.
"No," You whimpered, "I-I'm close."
"Oh, I know, darling." He smiled, "You're going to cum, and I'm going to make you cum again, and again, until all the stubborn thoughts in your head disappear."
His fingers were pumping fast now, and you couldn't help the noises you were making. Your orgasm was building in such a way that you knew it would be intense. He was right, you were stubborn, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, but it was becoming more and more difficult to hold back.
"Eli- wait, your gonna make me-" You stuttered, gasping as he added a third finger, stretching you even more.
"Make a mess?" He purred, curling his fingers just right, hitting your g-spot.
The lewd, wet, squelching noises coming from your pussy were embarrassing, and the fact that he was enjoying them made it worse. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your whole body trembling, you were so close.
He sped up his pace, and he could see the moment when you reached your peak. Your body tensed up, your back arching, and then a loud cry escaped your lips.
Your juices spilled out onto his fingers, covering his hand. It was so much, you had never squirted before, and the look on Elijah's face was pure lust and amusement.
It made you embarrassed and a bit angry and you tried to move away, but he kept his fingers buried deep inside you, not letting you escape.
"Don't be ashamed," He said, kissing your forehead, his fingers moving slowly, causing your legs to tremble.
"I'm not," You panted, glaring at him, trying to suppress a moan.
"Really?" He purred, his eyes locking with yours, "Then why are you blushing?"
He smirked, and you tried to hide your face in the sheets, but he wouldn't let you. He was still smirking, and you were getting angrier.
"I'm not-"
"Shh, love, you can't hide from me," he cooed, his fingers still pumping into you, stretching you out. Building up another climax.
"Eli-fuck," You gasped, the pleasure building.
"That's it, let me hear those pretty sounds," He whispered, his voice husky.
He was still fully clothed, and he hadn't even touched himself, he was only focused on you.
He kept fucking his fingers into you, his thumb circling your clit, making sure every inch of your pussy was being stimulated.
Your body was trembling, and you could feel yourself getting close again, you pushed your heels into the bed, trying to get away, but he didn't stop, he just kept going, his pace relentless.
"I can't- oh fuck-," You gasped, arching your back as the orgasm crashed over you. Your wetness soaked his hand and the bed below.
Elijah pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean. Then he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips, tasting all of you.
You tried to glare at him, but he was now kissing your neck, his free hand moving down to cup your breast, teasing your nipples.
"I'm still mad at you," You panted, trying not to moan.
"I know," He smirked, "And I'm not finished with you."
He grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs, and settled between them, his eyes roaming over your body.
"Such a pretty thing," He murmured, tracing patterns on your skin.
He took ahold of your waist, pulling you towards him, and began to grind against your wet pussy, making you whimper.
"You're so sensitive, baby," He cooed, his lips brushing over your collarbone.
You could feel his erection straining against his pants, and you could tell he was enjoying this just as much as you were. He undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops, and tossing it to the floor.
He pulled your arms above your head, his hand gripping your wrists. He unzipped his pants and took his cock out, pressing it against your entrance.
"You're already soaked for me," He whispered, kissing you deeply.
You moaned into the kiss, and he pushed his cock into you, making you whimper. He was so thick, and his length filled you completely, making your body tremble.
He began to thrust into you, his pace steady, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing over your skin.
"I'm not a toy," You managed to say, your voice strained.
"No, you're not, you're mine," He growled, his hips slamming into yours, his cock hitting all the right spots.
"Fuck," You gasped, arching your back.
His grip on your wrists tightened, and he spread your legs even wider. He grinded his hips slowly, wanting to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible.
You could feel the pressure building, and it was becoming harder to concentrate, all you could focus on was his cock, his weight on top of you, the way he was looking at you.
"Say it," He growled, his hips moving faster now. "Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours," You moaned, your voice cracking, your resolve breaking with every deep stroke.
The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy filled the room, mixed with your moans and gasps, and the way the bed was creaking. He knew you were close, he could feel your muscles starting to clench around him.
"No no stubborn one, you don't get to cum yet," He growled, nipping at your ear.
He wrapped your legs around his waist, pinning you to the bed. His pace increased and he leaned in to kiss you.
"Come on darling, give in, admit I'm right," He whispered.
"Eli, please," You moaned, your fingers gripping his shirt.
"All you have to do is submit," He cooed, pressing his lips to yours.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to give in, but it was so intense and his pace was relentless. He wasn't going to stop, not until you broke.
"Look at the way you open up for me," He said, his voice husky as he grinded against you. "Your needy little pussy, milking my cock, begging to be filled."
You looked down at where his cock was buried inside of you, moving in and out of your pussy. You could see how wet you were, covering his pants and your thighs, making a mess of the sheets.
"Hmm, you like that? Seeing how wet you are, all for me," He whispered, leaning down to kiss you. "Just admit that you are stubborn, and we can cum together."
Your whole body was shaking, your orgasm so close, but you fought it, squeezing your thighs together, trying to close your legs, but he wouldn't let you.
You gave up, you didn't care about the fight anymore, you just wanted to cum, you just wanted him to stop torturing you. You couldn't think straight, everything was too much, his thrusts were deep and hard, his cock was filling you, stretching you out, he knew just how to fuck you.
You couldn't hold back anymore and you finally gave in, submitting to him. "You're right," you gasped, your voice barely audible. "Please, Eli, fuck, I'm sorry, just let me cum."
"Good girl," He groaned, leaning back and spreading your thighs wide, pounding into you. He began to stroke your clit with his thumb, drawing circles, as his hips snapped hard and fast.
It was all too much, and you felt an intense release, your body convulsing, your wetness soaking him, making a mess of the clothes he was still wearing and the bed.
He chuckled, watching your cheeks flush in embarrassment as he fucked you through it. He made you squirt all over him, submitting to him completely.
You were still trembling, trying to catch your breath, you couldn't focus, your whole body was tingling with pleasure, you felt like you were floating.
He kissed you deeply, pressing his body to yours before he let out a low groan and came inside you, his cock twitching. You shuddered, your pussy still sensitive, but he didn't stop, he continued moving his hips slowly.
You could feel the warmth of his cum filling you, his cock throbbing, his breathing uneven. He kissed you softly and slowly, his fingers brushing over your cheek, caressing your face as he pulled out of you.
Now that you had come down from your high, you felt a mixture of frustration and humiliation. You tried to move, but he held you there, a devilish grin plastered on his face.
He shifted onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, your body on top of his, your chest pressing against his chest.
"I love you," he whispered, pulling you in for another kiss.
"Eli," you muttered, burying your face in his chest. You couldn't believe he had fucked you in that way, and now he was saying the three words you wanted to hear the most. He was so perfect and so infuriating at the same time. You were angry that he was able to make you give in so easily, but it was worth it. It had never felt so good.
"I love you too, asshole," you replied, making him laugh.
He kissed you once more before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His hands rested on your lower back, tracing lazy circles.
"I'm sorry for being protective, it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I'm afraid of losing you," he said quietly.
"I know, and I'm sorry for saying that you're a control freak," you apologized.
"No you're not," He smirked, kissing you again.
"I'm getting there," you sighed.
He laughed, tracing the curve of your hips with his fingertips. You could feel him harden underneath you, and it turned you on again. And you slowly ground your hips against his, teasing him.
His eyes grew dark, and he placed his hands on your ass, squeezing firmly. "Darling, don't," He said warningly, his voice strained.
You ignored him, rolling your hips, grinding into his lap, you wanted more.
"Don't be so stubborn Eli-,"
You were on your back before you could finish your sentence, your legs spread, his lips on yours.
You were definitely going to fight with him more often…
♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡
♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please
#elijah mikaelson#the originals#the vampire diaries#vampire diaries#tvdu#elijah mikaelson smut#cami o'connell#elijah mikaelson imagine#elijah mikealson imagine#elijah mikealson#elijah mikaelson x reader#elijah mikealson x reader#tvd#the vampire diaries x you#the vampire diaries x reader#the vampire diares imagine#the vampire diaries imagine#the originals imagine
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*looks around and slides money on the table* 💵
Frankie Morales and number 10
I apologize to Frankie because he’s a sweet polite broad bean who’s respectful and always asks. I…would like him not to. 👀
Reader: plus size female (because I’m in full self-indulgent delulu mode)
Also I’m kinda not sorry because side why else would you have the title of the p**** eating king Morales? Huh? Huh? 😵 Sir. 👀
Anyway. I’m gonna stop rambling now. Thank you. 🥰
*Snatches money and stuffs it into pocket*
Yeah, alright. I got the goods. (I fucking love this.)
Hope you enjoy your face sitting with the p**** eating king! 😉
Rating: Explicit
W/C: 1.2k
Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!plus size!reader
A Real Man
“What the fuck do you mean you’ve never sat on someone’s face before?”
You wince at the words coming out of Frankie’s mouth. Was it really that big of a deal?
The two of you are sitting in bed, facing the TV that Frankie just paused. Well, it’s not like the two of you were really watching it anyway. You’d started talking halfway through the movie, and you’re not really sure how you got to this point in the conversation, but here you are.
“I-I don’t know. I just…haven’t.” You avoid his gaze as your cheeks heat, unsure of why you feel so ashamed to have admitted that. Maybe it was more of a common thing than you had thought.
“But you’ve been in relationships before?” Frankie says it like a question, but he knows that you have.
“Well, yeah, but. I don’t know, we just didn’t do it!” You don’t know why you’re getting frustrated with this.
Frankie huffs a laugh and shakes his head.
“What kind of an idiot wouldn’t offer themselves up to a goddess like you?”
“You haven’t!” you point out. It’s a bit unfair of you since the two of you have only been officially dating for a couple of weeks and haven’t done too much sexual exploration yet. You’ve known him for much longer though, having grown up with him, and you’re not going to deny hearing…rumors of his skills.
He gives you a pointed look, knowing that you know that’s an unfair accusation. You groan and put your hands over your face.
“My last boyfriend offered, but he seemed like he didn’t really want to. So I told him I would suffocate him, and he agreed with me.” It’s muffled through your hands, and the last part is near incomprehensible with how quietly you say it.
“He what?” Frankie sits up a bit, and you peek at him through your fingers. “Honey, I hate to tell you, but that boy was a fucking idiot.”
You sigh and shake your head. Like you didn’t know that already.
“Take your clothes off.”
Your hands fall from your face as you jolt up.
“What? No!”
“Yes. You’re going to sit on my face so I can show you what it’s like to be with a real man.”
“Frankie, no, I–”
“Clothes. Off. Now.”
You gulp at the way his eyes darken and his voice deepens. Deciding it’s better just to listen to what he says, you slide down off the bed and start to tug off your clothes with shaky hands. You glance at Frankie as you push your pants down, watching the way he hungrily licks his bottom lip as you unveil more and more skin.
You stop once you’re down to your bra and panties, another protest on the tip of your tongue. But Frankie’s quick, and he knows your antics.
“Keep going. I don’t want to hear it.”
You purse your lips but undo your bra all the same, tossing it to the side and revealing your breasts to your boyfriend. You can feel the wetness between your legs as you peel your panties off, making your face flush again.
“C’mere.”
It’s not a request, and your body responds to it before you can think about it. You stop in front of him, his hands coming to settle on your plush hips. His eyes drag up the length of you, slowing as they pass your heavy breasts.
“Fucking gorgeos, amor.”
He starts to pull you back onto the bed with him, leading you to climb over him as he lays down. You stop at his waist, feeling the way his bulge presses up against the fabric of his sweats.
“C’mon, baby. All the way up.”
You swallow but follow his instruction, trying and failing to avoid his lust fueled gaze. You stop again right at his chest, and he suddenly wraps his arms around your thick thighs to pull you to his face, making you fall over him and plant your hands on the bed above his head.
“Frankie, be careful!” you scold, sitting back up on your knees. You look down at him, seeing his pupils completely blown.
“Take a seat hermosa,” he instructs, completely ignoring your outburst.
You start to lower yourself down, hovering just over his mouth. You’re about to ask him one more time if he’s sure, and then he pulls you all the way down, making you yelp as your pussy comes into contact with his unrelenting mouth.
He immediately gets to work on licking stripes up and down your cunt, and you scream out his name. He’s eaten you before while you were on your back, but holy fuck. It didn’t feel like this.
He groans into you as he slips his tongue inside your weeping hole, licking up all that he can. Your hand threads through his curls as your hips jolt involuntarily at the feeling. Your head is already starting to go blank as a pressure builds in your abdomen.
His tongue fucks in and out of you as he simultaneously slurps up your juices. You moan obscenely, tugging on his hair as you ride his face. He whimpers at the pull, and you already know his hips are bucking up into nothing.
He’s fucking feral, licking and fucking and groaning and whimpering. After a moment, he pulls his tongue back and shifts to take your clit between his full lips, sucking harshly. Your legs begin to tremble as your orgasm gets closer, and Frankie holds you even closer, his fingers leaving indents on your thighs as he squeezes your flesh. His tongue flicks over the swollen bud, and you’re done for.
“Oh, fuck, Frankie!” you cry out as you come on him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You’re vaguely aware of the way you’re clenching his hair in a way that has got to be painful, but you don’t have enough control to release your grip.
He keeps moving through your orgasm, letting go of your clit to trail back to your hole, drinking everything up as he moans. Your body tenses and shakes violently as you focus solely on the pleasure of it.
You’re panting as you come down, your body leaning back over his, weak from the force of the orgasm he just gave you. You feel his grip loosen on your thighs, and you take the opportunity to roll off of him and lay down on your back beside him.
You’re both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, breathing heavy as you look at eachother. You trade a shaky laugh, completely blissed out from whatever the fuck that was.
“Thank you baby,” you say, unsure if you can find the words to explain to him how mind-blowing that was.
“Shit, thank you,” Frankie responds.
“It wasn’t too much then?” you ask, doubt creeping back into your mind despite what just transpired.
“It was fucking perfect baby. I can prove how much I liked it if you really need.” He sounds almost bashful at this admission, and you’re confused for a second before you look down and see the dark stain in his pants.
You laugh at him, almost impressed that he managed to come untouched.
“No, I believe you.”
*****
Here’s the link to the prompt list if anyone else would like to request 🫶
#pedro pascal#fan fiction#ao3#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal characters#smut#fluff#frankie morales x you#frankie morales#frankie catfish morales#frankie morales smut#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales x reader#francisco catfish morales#frankie morales fluff#francisco morales#triple frontier fic#pedro pascal fan fiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfic#plus size reader#pedro pascal x plus size reader#frankie morales x plus size reader
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Witness in the Dark
※ Sierra Six x Claire's Older Sister!Reader ※
{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 } ※ { requested fic }
※ Summary: Don't we all just want to feel the companionable reassurance of another human being?
It only takes a single tragedy to tear your life to shreds and make it to where you're unable to sleep through the night. You tell yourself that you will never trust a bodyguard again, but things don't go according to plan when a man with a number for a name is assigned to the Fitzroy household while your uncle is away
※ Rating: T for suggestive themes and canon typical violence.
※ Content/Tags: Slow burn, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Night terrors, Pining, Unspecified age gap, Movie based - Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Obsessive behaviors from both parties, Descriptions of injuries, Mentions of parental death, Mentions of past kidnapping, Mentions of past torture, Implied death of minor character(s)
※ Word count: 12,637
※ Status: Oneshot/Complete
※ Author's Notes: I don't know what came over me. This really got uncontrollably out of hand and ended up being wildly self indulgent. Huge thanks for @danime25 for proofreading this. I owe you my life.
"Ladies!" Your sister's nurse calls as she walks into the room. "I want to introduce you to Six. He'll be looking after the house while Mister Donald is away."
You look up from your position next to Claire on her bed only to meet the eyes of the man following the nurse. They're startlingly blue. His face is impassive as he turns away and surveys the room. He carries himself with an easy grace that hints at the violence that his body could produce. He reeks of danger. You instantly don't appreciate his presence. You had fought with Uncle Fitz tooth and nail over hiring a bodyguard for the duration of his trip away from the home. This man’s presence here means you have clearly lost that argument.
"Only the two exits?" He questions, moving past the bed to stand at the ceiling to floor windows.
"Yeah." Your tone is hard, biting. The nurse gives a small gasp at your rudeness and says your name disapprovingly.
The man, Six, turns away from the window to look at you with a raised eyebrow. You stare at each other silently, sizing the other up. There’s a flicker of some emotion that you might label as respect in his eyes before Claire, picking up on your hostility, throws her hat in the ring.
"We don't chew gum in this house." You've never loved your little sister's faux-snob act more than in this moment. She snaps a photo of him with her Polaroid, staged records forgotten. He doesn't look particularly pleased about it. It’s more exasperated acceptance than anger though.
He's silent for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry. I wasn't briefed."
There’s a trace of a smile on his face. It’s irritating and you have to look away from him. You stare at a record sleeve like your life depends on it. He asks for the photo and picks it up. You see a flash of a tattoo on his hand as he plucks the Polaroid off of the bedspread. Poorly done and worn with age. He’s definitely one of Uncle Fitz’s prison recruits then. One of the most morally dubious options he could have saddled you with in his absence. Perfect.
He says his goodbyes to you and Claire before leaving the room. Your heart is beating irrationally rapidly and your mouth is dry. The man with a number for a name is stirring up nothing but bad memories. You know you won’t sleep well tonight.
───※ ·❆· ※───
“What kind of name is Six anyway?” Claire asks first thing in the morning after she tosses herself into a chair at the kitchen table. The man in question gives her a long look.
"007 was already taken so…" He says with a relaxed shrug, coffee mug in hand. He's leaning against the kitchen counter in the same suit as yesterday.
You choke back a laugh at the sight of your sister's expression. You accidentally meet Six's eyes over her head. There's warmth in them that douses your amusement immediately. You sober up and turn back to your breakfast. Softness in someone doing his line of work felt… wrong. He isn't trustworthy, you decide, no matter how kind he acts.
───※ ·❆· ※───
You wake up with a start. The coppery tang of blood mixed with the dry powder of concrete lingers in your subconscious. It takes several heaving breaths to clear your airway and bring you back to the present. You shakily sit up. You press your palms into your eyes. You try to forget the sensation of a knife in your skin. You're here. You're safe . You're one of the last people your sister has. You're the stable one.
You get to your feet in the dark bedroom and open your door to step out into the hall. You trail unsteady fingertips down the plaster and paint as you make your way to the kitchen and living area.
There's a barely audible scuffle and you peer through the gloom to see Six stalking you. You catch the barest glimpse of his face in a strip of moonlight. It's intent. Predatory. There's no hint of recognition, not while you move through the darkest parts of the room.
You feel cold. Your pulse starts to hammer in your veins. Your throat works uselessly. Words won't come out of your mouth. You forge along to the kitchen and fumble for the light. The kitchen is awash in a blinding glow right as you feel heat against your back. It immediately withdraws as the bodyguard removes himself from your personal space. You don't turn to face him while you get a glass from the cupboard and fill it with ice and water at the fridge's dispenser. You stare blankly at the burnished steel while you take sip after sip.
You refill your glass. You blink. You take a drink. You pretend like your mind isn't shattered. You pretend like the man your uncle hired hadn't been about to…
"Are you alright?" Six's voice cuts through the fog in your mind. It's like a lantern has been lit to guide you back into the waking world.
You find yourself then and turn to look at him. You study him. He looks slightly rumpled and tired. There's tension around his eyes and his mouth is set in an almost apologetic frown.
"Just another nightmare. Sorry for disturbing you."
The frown deepens. "You didn't. I was caught by surprise, that's all."
"Fair warning, me out here like this is probably going to be a regular occurrence." You smile wanly. "I know you want us in bed, but I don't do the whole staying put thing so well most nights."
He just nods. He's accepted your words without protest. The frown fades away.
You gesture with your glass in the vague direction of your bedroom. "I'm going to go ahead and excuse myself. Goodnight, Six."
"Goodnight."
───※ ·❆· ※───
Weeks go by. The household falls into a comfortable enough routine. Claire ribs him good-naturedly every chance she gets. He's always got a faint aura of amusement every time she takes a shot at him. You hadn't yet seen him get angry. Pretending to be annoyed? Yes, but never actually expressing any negative emotion beyond mild exasperation. Not yet, anyway.
He sends the both of you to bed every night after Claire's nurse takes her leave. You inevitably get up in the middle of the night after another vivid nightmare. Six is always either watching the camera footage or doing his rounds. He's stopped being surprised by your presence after the night he hunted you. You linger in the kitchen doorway night after night, watching him keep vigil. He's got a soft face, you've decided. There's tension there, likely from worry and lack of sleep, but not cruelty. You've begun to wonder if he has the capability for it. You know he must. Uncle Fitz has kept you in the dark about a lot of the work he does, but you know a kind man wouldn’t have been a candidate for whatever program your uncle runs.
───※ ·❆· ※───
You're woken up a few nights later by the sound of hands scrabbling on your door. Your eyes snap open and you remain frozen for a second before you hear Claire's muffled voice. You're immediately out of bed so fast you stumble and twist your ankle painfully. You fling the door open and next thing you know, your little sister falls wheezing into your arms. "Something's… Something's wrong." She gasps out.
She can't breathe and is clutching at her chest with weak hands. Horror races down your back and you're pulling her into your arms in a clumsy embrace, desperately trying to keep her upright.
"Six!" The name is torn from you in a shout. You never thought you would be screaming for a man you'd told yourself you couldn't trust.
He's there in an instant. He puts a steadying hand on your back before he gently pulls Claire away and lifts her up into his arms. She wheezes again and both you and Six freeze.
"I'm okay." she whispers. She looks so small and breakable in the bodyguard's thick arms. Like a bird plucked from the sky, held the mercy of a giant's hands.
"Can you get the keys for the car and unlock it?" His voice washes over you. Its steadiness anchors you to reality. You manage a "Yeah." and take off through the house to the garage, making a pit-stop to snag the keys from their bowl. Your ankle is throbbing. Six is close behind, his brisk stride and long legs keeping time with your hurried scrambling. You mash the unlock button on the fob and throw yourself into the backseat. Claire is gently deposited in after you. Her head is resting on your lap. You comb through her brown hair with shaky hands.
"Mount St. Mary's." You tell Six the moment he's halfway into the driver's seat. "They're the ones who put her pacemaker in."
He grunts in response, backing out of the garage. You don't remember when you handed him the keys or when the garage door was opened. You don't think about anything other than your little sister. You can't lose her too. You've already lost so much of your family and of yourself. The ride passes in a blur. You're only fleetingly aware of the passing lights. Your heart is hammering in your chest like it's beating for Claire and you both. You whisper pleas and promises to her, stroking her forehead with shaking hands.
You're pulled out of your trance by Six yanking the passenger door open, and you help guide your sister into his capable arms. The medical team whisks Claire into the back immediately the moment he has her on the stretcher. You're left in a stiff, vinyl chair in the waiting room. Bodies haven't been in it long enough to soften the material. You're filling out intake paperwork on your sister's behalf. Six stands next to you, hands clasped in front of himself. You glance over, checking his watch every few seconds, your leg bouncing in place. Nervousness and fear wash over you in all-consuming waves.
He catches your glance as your eyes dart over yet again.
"You holding up alright?'' His questions surprise you. He rarely is the one to initiate conversations. His gaze is steady, grounding, blue eyes watching you intently.
"Not really." You admit, inhaling and exhaling jaggedly. He nods. There's tension around his eyes. Is he worried too? You have to look away from his face and instead talk to his watch. "She's my sister. I need to keep her safe. I can't lose her too."
You hear him make a noise in response. You watch the seconds tick by one by one on his watch. The two of you are silent for approximately thirty-seven of them before Six breaks the moment by undoing the metal clasp. He pulls the watch away from his skin, revealing a bar of ink across the underside of his surprisingly delicate wrist before he's handing it to you.
"Here."
You stare at the dangling watch blankly before looking up at his face. "What?"
"Keep it safe for me for a while." His tone leaves no room for argument. You reach out with hesitant fingers and take it from his grasp. The steel is warm in your hand. You swallow thickly and drape the watch over your wrist, waiting for the sickening feeling of having your hands bound to hit you. It doesn't. You clumsily latch the buckle. It's sized perfectly for the man diligently standing at your side, no possibility of tightening it without it being resized altogether. It hangs off your wrist like a loose bracelet and you realize then just how big Six is.
He hides his mass well. His muscles are concealed discretely enough underneath blazers and tailored trousers. He simply doesn't take up space in whatever room he's in, always the expert at being unremarkable, unobtrusive, and not worth remembering. But this… this is a dead giveaway. You cast a sideways glance at his hands and, for a dizzying moment, you wonder how your hand would look pressed palm to palm with one of his.
"Miss Fitzroy. Your sister is cleared for visitors now if you would like to see her." A nurse's voice cuts into your illogical musings.
You stand up so abruptly that the chair you were just sitting on screeches agonizingly loud on the polished vinyl flooring before it thuds into the wall. The nurse flinches slightly, but Six is steady at your side. He falls into step behind you as you follow the man through the winding hallways to Claire.
The doctor stops you at the door, arm barring you for a moment before letting it drop. "She's stabilized. Tell your uncle there was a programming glitch. We were able to repair it. Non-invasive." She pauses for a moment, giving the man hovering behind you a hard look before continuing. "The remote system flagged it ten minutes before he pulled up."
"You're able to monitor from that distance?" You interrupt.
"We can keep track of her pacemaker from just about anywhere. You may see her. She can be released later tonight after we have her under observation for a while longer.” The doctor catches your pinched expression and adds. “Just to be safe.”
You nod, gaze bypassing her to focus on Claire. She’s been watching the exchange and, at your attention, she pulls a weak smile under her oxygen mask while raising a pale hand to flash the rocker sign. The doctor finally steps aside but not before blocking Six as he makes to follow you into the room. “Only family allowed.”
You look at her incredulously and open your mouth to protest before Six cuts you off. “I understand. Thank you, Doctor.” His tone is bland, unemotional. He arranges himself to stand with his back to the inside of the open door. He’s obnoxiously in the way of anyone that would need to come or go. He spends the passing minutes as they bleed into hours standing there like a steadfast sentinel. Back straight, hand clasped over his right wrist, left wrist startlingly bare, head lowered in waiting supplication; he’s the very image of patient servitude.
You sit at your sister's side in your own vigil. The three of you wait in tired silence until a nurse finally announces Claire is free to be discharged.
She fusses as she's helped into a wheelchair. You and Six stand aside, letting the staff fight the battle. They win, but as soon as everyone spills out of the automatic doors, she's pulling herself out of the mobility aid. She gently slaps away yours and Six's reaching hands when the two of you try to steady her. "Don't you dare."
"But-" you start to protest before you're immediately shut down. "I can walk to the car. I'm not that much of an invalid."
Six doesn't even try to say anything, just forges ahead through the parking lot like nothing happened. He's learned by now that there's no arguing with your little sister. The traitor. You and Claire make it to the vehicle after him and you move to slide into the back seat with her but she pulls a face.
"You're smothering meeeee." she exaggeratedly whines. You give her a flat look. "Smothered." she insists. She dramatically points at the front of the car and raises insistent eyebrows.
You end up buckling yourself into the front passenger seat with an exasperated sigh. You look over at Six. The tension has bled away from his face. He looks more relaxed, relieved even. He notices your stare and the two of you make eye contact. You roll your eyes pointedly at your sister’s antics. Six maintains a serious expression until it cracks and you’re rewarded with the bodyguard's smile.
Six's arm brushes ever so slightly against yours when he puts the vehicle into reverse and then into drive. The feeling of his warmth lingers like a brand on your skin. His watch hangs heavily around your wrist. You fight the urge to gently touch the gleaming metal and instead interlink your own fingers together hard enough to hurt.
You spend the car ride sagged against the leather of the passenger seat, desperately trying to focus on the passing scenery and not the man seated next to you. Not his kindness, not the way he had kept you grounded. You tell yourself he was just doing his job. Any bodyguard would have been tender and careful with your sister… and with you. You try to not read into what Six offering his watch to you for "safe keeping" might possibly mean.
Soon you're back at the house, waiting in the garage with your little sister while the hired man does a sweep of the building to make sure no one has breached the perimeter while it lay vacant. Claire is tucked against your side. She's bleary eyed with exhaustion.
"Clear." Six's voice cuts into the silence of the garage.
You tow Claire along with you and sit her down at the table. She slumps with her cheek resting in her hand. You busy yourself with getting a bowl of ice cream set in front of her.
She gulps it down in huge mouthfuls. Six sits to your right at the head of the table while she eats. His eyes are focused on the screen of his laptop. You're sitting across from your sister, half curled up in the dining chair. The adrenaline has long since left your body, leaving you feeling heavy with exhaustion.
"You feeling better?" Six directs at Claire.
"Just another Thursday." She says with a shrug. "Uncle Donald and my sister say this is the best medicine. Ice cream. I tend to agree."
"They're smart people."
"Only family I got."
Six’s response is instant, like he’ll choke on the words if he doesn’t get them out of his mouth fast enough. “Fitz’s the closest thing to family I’ve had in a long while.”
"Maybe that kind of makes us family."
You catch the way that he smiles. He ducks his head to hide it, but you see the hopeless spread of it across his face. There’s something so tender and vulnerable in his eyes that you get stung by a pang in your chest. Your heart aches for the people sitting at the table with you. Claire for carrying the loss of your parents and Six for whose closest hint of a familial tie is his boss. You get pulled out of your spiraling thoughts by Claire yawning.
"You should go to bed." His voice is soft.
You haul yourself to your feet, exhausting hanging on you like a blanket. You whisk Claire’s empty bowl away and gently touch her shoulder. “C’mon, you heard the man.”
She grumbles a little and stands up with you. You’re about to guide her to her bedroom but she pauses and turns. “‘Night, Robot.”
“Goodnight, Claire.” He sounds exasperated with an undercurrent of amusement.
He doesn’t look away from the screen as you and your younger sister retire for the night. You fall into bed, wrung out from the hospital trip. It’s not until you’re firmly under the covers and settled into bed that you realize you’re still wearing Six’s watch. You stare at it, warring with yourself on if you should scrape yourself off of the mattress to go give it to the bodyguard keeping vigil at the table or to just set it aside to give to him in the morning. You do neither of those things. You fall asleep watching the silver metal reflect the moonlight peering through the shivering curtains. You do not dream of your past captors and their leering smiles that night. Instead, you dream of a comforting hand on your wrist, the gentle hum of a deep voice.
───※ ·❆· ※───
The three of you settle back into routine following Claire’s hospital visit, but things have shifted slightly following that night. You gave Six his watch back the following morning before your sister got out of bed and before her nurse arrived for the day. He took it from your hesitantly offered hand. His thick fingers gently brushed your palm as he lifted the piece from it. Your wrist has felt desolate, too light ever since you took it off. You try to ignore it all, try to regain the distance you had before. You don’t succeed. Something about Uncle Fitz’s hired man keeps eroding the walls built from mistrust and agony.
───※ ·❆· ※───
You snap awake, soaked through with rapidly cooling sweat. You’re certain you didn’t scream out. Your throat isn’t sore, but your face is wet, moisture clinging to your lashes. You must have been silently sobbing through your nightmare. You uncurl yourself from your tensed position and drag yourself out of bed. You walk through the darkened hallway to the kitchen. You make sure to roughly trail your hand along the wall and clear your throat. It won’t do anyone any favors to startle Six.
You get your glass of water and make your way into the main sprawl of rooms. The bodyguard is sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open, as he is most nights. You pull out a chair and sit down with your glass. You look at it hollowly, trying to ignore the lingering terror from your nightmares. You can't but notice Six’s eyes flickering over to you now and again. There’s a concerned crease between his eyebrows.
“Rough night?”
“The usual. As Claire says, it’s just another Thursday.” Your voice comes out more bitter than you intend. You tighten your grip on your cup until it feels like it might shatter in your hand. You force yourself to loosen your clenched fingers.
The man seated at the table with you gives an acknowledging hum, sedately chewing his gum. He doesn’t press, doesn’t try to force any explanations out of you. You relax a little in your seat. Having another human being awake and nearby is a comfort. You rest your cheek on your hand and observe him. He looks tired. The light coming from the screen serves only to highlight the weariness weighing down his face and stooping his usually rigid shoulders. Looking at him like this reminds you of the night you watched this man and your sister interact after he drove you both home from Mount St. Mary’s.
“She’s happier with you around, you know.”
There's such a long silence following your unprompted comment that you don't think he'll respond but he finally does. "She's a good kid."
"Yeah. Yeah she is." You don’t think you could have clung to life in the wake of the incident without her there to be strong for. Most weeks, she was the only reason you bothered to try to function.
You drain the rest of your glass and stand up. The ice clinks. You dump it in the sink and put the cup in the top rack of the dishwasher. You felt wrung out enough to attempt sleep again. You pause in the doorway and look back at the man at the table. "Six."
He looks up, eyebrow raised. His lips are slightly parted.
"'Night."
"Goodnight." You can’t decipher his tone.
Your nightmares don’t return that night.
───※ ·❆· ※───
About a month later, you’re screaming and thrashing in your bed. You’re choking under your captor’s hands, the sensation of soaked cloth over your face. You feel the pressure of those cruel fingers on your throat, over your mouth. Water moistening every ragged inhale. You can’t breathe.
Six’s response is all but instantaneous from the moment he hears your first scream. He pushes your door open, one hand on the knob and the other wrapped around his drawn gun. He’s sweeping his eyes across the dark room, There’s no attacker to find, there’s only you writhing on your bed, plagued by your own mind. He holsters his weapon and goes to your side. He tries calling your name, but there’s no acknowledgement, only your panicked wheezing. He puts one knee on the mattress for stability and grabs your upper arms. He tries to shake you awake. That gets a reaction. You start fighting him. Your hands claw and hit at him. He ignores it and repeats your name, asking you to wake up with an edge of desperation to his voice. He’s wildly unprepared for this. A physical enemy he can handle, but this…
You come out of it, going limp in his hold. Your chest is heaving. You blink away the lingering horrors of your dream and look up at him, horrified. For a split second your panic flares anew until you focus on his face. You remind yourself that you know this man, that you trust him with your sister’s life. He releases his grip on you and leans to turn on your bedside lamp. You wince against the explosion of light before bolting upright to reach towards his face. He’s scratched and you wonder if he’s going to be sporting a black eye. He lets your fingertips rest on his cheek for a heartbeat, something unreadable in his eyes before he’s withdrawing his knee from the mattress and standing at the side of your bed. He’s the picture of composure.
“I’m so sorry.” Guilt is suffocating you almost as much as the man in your nightmare.
"You don't need to apologize. I should. I wasn't briefed about how to handle it." He sounds genuinely sorry, a touch of distress bleeding into his tone. It twists the knife of guilt deeper. You feel your eyes start to well.
"No, no it's not your fault.. I don't want to be like this, I'm sorry." The tears spill over. You turn your face away and scrub your hands over your cheeks.
He hesitates and sits down on the bed next to you. There's a yawning span of distance between the two of you. There's not a hint of anger or frustration coming from him, not even pity. just.... sorrow. Understanding.
"Fitz briefed me on your history." It's blunt. matter of fact.
"Then you know about the...." You hesitate.
"Yeah.” He answers before continuing. “Does he know how bad it gets?"
"No… I never told him all the details. I didn't want to burden him. He's got enough to worry about." You shrink into yourself. Your eyes focused on the items cluttering your nightstand.
"Your wellbeing isn't a burden." There it is. There’s a taste of the anger you’d been waiting for in his tone. You squeeze your eyes shut.
"I'm the stable one, Six. I can't let everyone down again ." You laugh a little, self-deprecating. You press your palms against your eyes. Baring down until stars explode behind your closed eyelids.
He hums, and you feel the shift of the mattress as he stands up. You think he’s leaving, disgusted with you and your emotions, but the heat of his presence doesn’t go away. The warmth of him bleeds through your sleep clothes. You can feel him looking down at you. You nearly jump out of your skin when he nudges your arm. You look up at him, startled. He quirks an eyebrow.
“Come on.” He says, offering his hand to you. You take it. He easily guides you up onto shaky legs.
He has you follow him down the hallway and to the dining table. A path as familiar as an old friend by now. He motions for you to sit at the table, and you mutely follow his direction. You hear him move around in the kitchen. He returns with a bowl of ice cream and a full glass of water. He sits both in front of you.
"I have it on expert authority that this should help. All the smartest people I know support it." He's so serious sounding. You look at him flatly. He holds his grave expression for a beat before he winks. You crack a teary smile and lay into the ice cream like it personally insulted you.
He settles into a chair across from you while you eat. He occasionally glances over at the open laptop’s screen to check the security footage, but his main focus is on you. You feel a little self conscious under his gaze. You scour your mind for something to say, anything to lessen the intensity he’s directing towards you.
"Do you ever sleep? Like… go to bed sleep?" The question comes out of nowhere. a flash of surprise crosses his face. You'd seen him cross his arms in his chair and tip his head back. Caught him leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, hip cocked for stability. But the thought of him actually dressing down into pajamas and tucking himself under the blankets seems.... implausible. too soft for this man who is alert and buttoned up into his crisp slacks and fitted shirts no matter the hour of the day. You half supposed he showered in the damn things.
"Not as often as I should. I don't sleep easy either." The honesty surprises you.
"Why?" It's probing but you're too exhausted and raw to care.
"Too many memories. My line of work isn't exactly conducive to pleasant dreams." You wonder if he would have been willing to be so open this entire time or if something changed between the two of you. When would it have changed? Were the moments you found significant also important to him? Was he starting to crave your company in the inexplicable way as you’ve begun to crave his?
You almost apologize to him for prying, but you stop yourself. You nod instead. You understand how it is to have a beast pacing the maze of your sleeping mind, pulling out the threads of your worst memories like entrails for you to witness over and over again.
"I still think about it… About them." You admit. Your eyes skitter across the table like a frightened mouse, focusing on Six's watch face before darting away. You can’t tell the time from this distance. There is a pressure welling up in your throat. Something is clawing its way out into the open.
“Talk to me.” His request is firm, paving the way for your words. He takes his watch off, a mirror of the other night. It slips free of his arm in the same way, inky black revealed on the underside of his wrist, tendons shifting, the movements delicate. He sets the watch on the table in front of you. The metal links clatter on the polished wood surface. You glance up at his face, shadowed in the dim light. “For safekeeping.” He remarks.
You reach out and lift it from the worn surface, running your fingers over the band. The weight is soothing in your grasp. The seconds tick by and it feels as though your heart is trying to race them. You finally open your mouth and release your burden.
“Claire had her birthday party that day. It was the last good day we had with our parents. It was hard to keep the security straight since there were so many people in the house. I didn’t think anything was wrong when two men came up to me and introduced them as part of the security detail. I still didn’t think it was weird when they asked me to come with them. How could I have been so stupid ?” Your breath catches, anger palpable in your voice. Six twitches like he might reach out, but he stills and you continue.
“They got me out of the house. I wasn’t strong enough to fight them off when they put me in the back of the SUV. They… they kept me for days asking questions I didn’t know the answers to. They didn’t like that I didn’t know anything. They tried to be more persuasive… so I started making up things. I just wanted them to stop but they wouldn’t. The wrong answer or the right answer, it didn’t matter. They offered me in exchange for a ransom and eventually they pulled me out of the basement. My parents were there to do the handoff. The guys wouldn’t let anyone else do it. We made it about three miles down the highway before they caught up with us and shot out the front tires. I don’t think they expected anyone to live after we went through the guardrail, so they just.. drove off. Left. I don’t know how long I was in the car staring at my parents. Claire was too young to understand that I ruined her life. I’ve been waiting for her to realize what I did. She hasn’t yet but she will.”
“How did you ruin it?” Quiet, disbelieving.
“I got our parents killed. I shouldn’t have gone with those men. I should’ve known better.” You hear a noise like a wounded animal. A creature left for roadkill, great heaving breaths rattling in that damaged chest. It’s you, you realize dully, you’re the animal. There’s a large hand enveloping your wrist. It’s Six and he’s holding onto you.
“How could you know?” He asks. You shake your head, a sob escapes you. You feel shame. Grief. Six’s hand squeezes almost tight enough to hurt. It grounds you, you can’t escape into your own mind. Not with that insistent pressure to stay . You feel the metal of his watch biting into the skin of your palm. It’s a good kind of ache.
“It wasn’t your fault. You trusted people you were meant to trust. Who could blame you for that?” he insists. His eyes are too soft, too kind.
“Uncle Fitz.” It slips out, involuntary. You would bite your own tongue off if it could take back the betrayal. You don’t dare to look at the man seated across from you. You had all but swung a bat at the person who he said was the closest thing he had to family.
His hand withdraws from your arm, and for a moment you’re certain that he’s going to walk off and leave you sitting here by yourself. He doesn’t, he surprises you once again. He simply leans further over the table, capturing your hands with his before plucking his watch from your ironclad grasp. He lays it over your much smaller wrist. He handles you with so much gentleness it almost hurts. He secures the clasp and simply… holds your hands. He says your name and you look up
“Your family loves you.” He states simply. He says it like it’s an indisputable fact. Like it’s something as true and honest as the rotation of the Earth. You nod mutely. You can’t argue, not when he says it with so much assurance. He gives your hands a final, comforting squeeze and stands up. He gathers up your dishes, bowl, spoon, and glass. The bodyguard makes a soothing gesture to stay seated when you make a motion to rise and help him. You listen to the domestic sounds of him running the sink and loading your used dishes into the dishwasher. Your eyes start to drift shut. There’s a weight off your lungs, your burden has been dispersed, even just for a little while.
There’s a soft touch to your shoulder. It’s Six and he wants you back in bed. You get to your feet and let him escort you to your bedroom door. You feel oddly nervous, fidgeting with your fingers and avoiding meeting the hired man’s eyes. It feels like the awkward end of a weird date where everyone was too uncomfortably honest.. No matter how delusional that sounds even to yourself.
“Goodnight.” he’s the one who breaks the silence first. You feel relieved.
“‘Night, Six.” is your response as you put your hand on the doorknob and slip into the room, away from his unreadable gaze. When you fall asleep for the second time that night, you dream of steady hands marked with prison tattoos.
───※ ·❆· ※───
The morning dawns without preamble. It feels like you have barely laid your head on the pillow. You check the time on the watch hanging loosely around your wrist. Less than four hours have passed since your night terror and subsequent comforting via the household bodyguard. Your morning routine feels more laborious than usual. Every movement feels like crawling through tilled soil.
You’re dressed for the day and walking into the kitchen when you hear your little sister badgering Six.
“What happened to you, Robot?” she asks.
You pop your head around the corner to take a look at the man she’s addressing. You stop cold. It’s a mess. He’s a mess. The skin around his left eye is puffy and bruised. There's clear nail marks on his cheeks and down to his neck. Any exposed skin had taken the brunt of your panic. You can even see some redness through his facial hair. You feel sick, betrayed again by your body. Your own hands had tried to tear him apart.
"Well..." he starts and shrugs his jacket off. He folds it and drapes it over the back of one of the chairs.
He's about to go on his outdoor rounds, which you and Claire have secretly dubbed ‘enrichment time’, and continue wearing a trail into the yard. If he’s feeling particularly comfortable, he might sneak a nap in one of the lawn chairs now that the sun is up. Provided that he’s sure the two of you are secure and can survive without him awake for an hour or so.
"Your sister beat me in a fight. I'll have to hand in my championship belt." It's relaxed and easy. He gives you a conspiratorial wink when Claire rolls her eyes with a scoff.
You match his earnest tone with your own. "You should have seen it, I was about to get the folding chair and everything."
“Ooh-kay, I’ll just assume it was a weird sex thing,” she comments, turning back to her breakfast. “Looks like you already won his watch though. Congrats.”
Silence follows. Claire smugly scrapes her spoon around in her bowl, capturing every last shred of cereal. There’s a self-satisfied smile on her face. Neither of you protest. Either you let it go and hope she loses interest in the bit, or you launch into a defense that will only get her to double down. No matter what, you’ll be the losers.
Six pushes a heavy exhale through his nose and walks out of the room. You follow him right out the back door and onto the deck. The two of you stand there for a moment in companionable silence. It’s beautiful out here. The sun is a sedate creature in the sky. She's lazily casting her rays over the yard. The water in the pool is sparkling in it, lapping playfully at the concrete walls. Six’s shoulders are still tense in your field of view. He looks as though he’s holding himself up through sheer force of will.
“I’m sorry again about last night.” You say to his back.
“Please don’t be. Things happen.” He says with a sigh. You falter. He sounds as exhausted as you feel. You don't want to push the issue.
He gestures for you to sit in one of the deck chairs by the pool. You don’t, instead choosing to trail him as he does his rounds. He’s lit by the sun. You’re in his shadow. His hair looks like a field of golden wheat. You almost want to run your hands though it in order to feel the softness for yourself. You instead soothe the urge by toying with the band of his watch still loosely encircling your wrist. He looks back at you every once in a while, eyes dazzlingly blue in the bright sunlight. You had never noticed the angles of his face before, the curves of his nose with its distinctive bump, the set of his cheekbones, how his facial hair is darker than the hair on his head. You hate that you're noticing these details now. After the events of last night, any tentative bond feels tainted.
The morning grows warmer as you drift behind him like a ghost. Eventually he rolls his sleeves up to reveal his forearms. You start to understand why people in bygone eras got so flustered at the sight of a lady's ankle. His wrists are bodice ripping enough, you suppose, but the space from his fingertips to the crook of his elbow? That is home to so much previously unseen skin. Had he been rolling up his sleeves every morning? If you had simply looked out one of the windows, would you have seen the sight that you’re witnessing now? Would you have seen the distinct veins trailing up the insides of his muscular arms? What about the tattoos whose mere existence beg to have a finger trace along his skin? You avert your eyes, not wanting him to notice you staring. You tell yourself that it’s just the novelty of it all, that the surprise at seeing him less buttoned up will wear off.
With the rounds done, the two of you are back at your starting point. The bodyguard settles onto one of the deck chairs. He lets out a borderline obscene groan as he lets his body relax against the wood. His eyes flutter closed. He shifts slightly, another noise escapes his throat as he does. You make your way to the chair next to him on shaky legs, and drop into it. He doesn’t stir. You debate on standing up, you don’t, the thought of leaving his side makes you anxious. You make yourself comfortable in your seat.
Through the open window, you can hear Claire’s record player. You hear the notes of Feel the Warm. She’s playing Mark Lindsay again. You let it wash over you. The sunlight is dappled across this part of the patio. You cast a glance over at your companion. His arms are crossed and he looks dead to the world. Your own eyelids are drooping, He’s the last thing you see before you drift off.
You wake up gradually, it’s an easy kind of waking. No wild jerk of consciousness, just the soft trickle of awareness. You’ve managed to curl on your side in the deck chair. You squirm upright and feel cloth slide down into your lap. It’s the hired man’s jacket. He must have gone back inside to get it. You touch it with hesitant fingers and look up, scanning for him. He’s currently out of sight, but you do see Claire in the hammock chair across the way. She’s engrossed in her phone and frantically tapping at the screen. You check the time on the watch in your possession before you catch a glimpse of Six coming up the patio steps from the lower yard. He’s got a sandwich in one hand and his own phone in the other. He’s intent on the device. He glances up and accidentally meets your eyes. He jumps slightly as if startled you’re awake. He recovers and gives you a nod.
“‘Morning.” His mouth is full. You know Claire will give him the tongue lashing of a lifetime if she notices.
"It's after twelve." You playfully retort, watching unimpressed as he fights to swallow the bread in his mouth. He’s really struggling for a second before he gets it down, his throat working roughly. You get to your feet, carefully folding his jacket over your arm. You approach him with it.
"Good afternoon then." He says quietly. You swear you catch the ghost of a smile on his face as he looks at you.
“Thanks for the blanket.” You say, offering it to him. He takes it with his unoccupied hand before shrugging it on, doing a quick change of hands with his lunch.
You move to take off the watch and return that as well, but he stops you with a disapproving noise. “You’re keeping that safe for me, remember?”
You pause for a moment, mind racing wildly with the effort to make sense of his words. To find meaning in them. Your hand falls away from the metal and you surrender with a mute nod. If he wanted you to keep it for him for a while longer, who were you to protest? It’s a strange kind of comfort to have it.
───※ ·❆· ※───
Things come to another disastrous head some weeks later. It happens after the nurse sees Claire tucked into bed before heading home for the evening. It happens after you give your sister your own goodnight wishes. You had gently brushed her hair from her face and gave her a kiss on the forehead even if she scrunches her face in mock disgust each time you do. There’s no telling which moment between the two of you will be the last. You hadn’t had the luxury of knowing that your mom’s wet pleas for help would be the last gift from her in that twisted hunk of metal. You wanted your little sister to have a happy memory of you if a goodnight ever turned into a goodbye. Less nightmares that way.
You had stood up from your seat on the edge of the bed, made sure to smooth her blanket out. “Sweet dreams, Claire.” you said before you extinguished the slow glow cast by the lamp on her nightstand.
“‘Night,” she had said to you before yelling. “‘Night, Robot!” in the direction of the door.
You heard a weary sounding response from the ‘robot’ in question. Six was hovering in the hallway, patiently waiting to escort you to your bedroom door. He’s been diligent in performing the action every single night without fail since your impromptu wrestling session with him. He also hasn’t let you return his watch to him yet. You closed the bedroom door behind you, stepped into the hall and nearly brushed against the tall man. He moved back only enough to give you the barest clearance to get past him so he could trail after you for the scant few steps to your own door. It seems lately that he’s been standing closer to you. It also seems like his eyes have been lingering more on your face than the surveillance feeds at night when you emerge from your room, wide eyed and shaken from whatever terror that had gripped you. Your exchanged goodnights haven’t been anything out of the ordinary though, even if his voice was lower… more intimate than it used to be.
The bubble officially bursts for you when you abruptly jerk awake. You assume it was a nightmare you can’t remember, though you don’t feel any of the usual symptoms. There’s no tremors or wild breathing. You’re just… awake. You think about laying in bed and trying to drift off, but there’s a sense of unease you can’t shake. You make up your mind and shuffle over to the door. Like any other night, you turn the knob and walk out into the hall.
Like a snare snatching a rabbit, rough hands seize you. Your mouth is covered, fingers digging in harshly. And with a sudden drop of your stomach, you register the sensation of a gun pressing into your side. The metal’s coldness burrows though the thin layer of your sleep shirt. You’re frozen in shock, mind racing. Where's Six? Where's the bodyguard uncle Fitz had hired? He was supposed to protect you and your sister. Keep you safe. Why wasn't he doing his job? Why was this man in the house?
Tears start running down your face without your permission. Your sobs are broken off against the inside of your mouth. They can’t escape the crushing pressure. A scream you can’t release is building in your throat. What if this man did something to Claire?
The gun digs in deeper, grinding against your ribs. He drags you down the hall and into the living room. It’s dark and you flinch as you feel something sharp dig into one of your feet. You whimper. The floor is littered with broken glass. The sound of it shattering must have been what woke you up.
“Shut up.” the man holding you hisses, giving you a tooth rattling shake while he leans over your shoulder to see where he’s steering you. His breath is sour. “Where is he?” He must mean Six.
The bodyguard must still be able to present a problem if this man is asking about him. You’re not completely alone in this. It’s enough to sharpen your mind. To direct your focus. Your eyes are straining to make out anything in the darkness. It’s a mess of shapes that are so familiar in the daylight, but they look like strangers in the darkness. You manage to recognize the coffee table before the attacker does and you pull your leg out of the way. He slams into it and stumbles. He curses loudly through the pain of hitting his shin on the corner. You see your opportunity and savagely bite the hand covering your mouth. The saltiness of blood washes over your tongue but you bury your teeth in deeper. The tendons and nerves give way beneath your teeth. You go until you hit bone and hang on. Even if you don’t make out of this alive, you’re going to make damn sure this fucker doesn’t get to keep full use of his fingers.
He’s groaning, blinded by the shock of pain. You dare to release your hold on him in order to slam the back of your head into his face as hard as you can, throwing yourself into a backwards jump to do so. He lets out a wounded noise and clutches his face. He’s completely let go of you to do so. The gun is on the floor now, dropped in the surprise of your retaliation. You skate awkwardly on the glass as you make a run for it. The floor feels wet under your feet as you sprint for the hall. You’re leaving a trail of bloody footprints in your wake. The scream you’ve felt building weakly escapes. It’s a too quiet utterance of Six’s name. You can’t find the ability to yell as loud as you need to. You’re nearly sightless from a lack of light and terrified tears. You’re battering against the walls and furniture like a moth around a lightbulb. You make it halfway down the hall to Claire’s bedroom when you feel it. A brush of the assailant’s hand against your back. He shouts when he misses you, and you jitter to the side, making contact with the wall right as he slams into the floor. You put your back to it and look down, eyes wide enough in terror to make out the shapes of two struggling men.
Six is on top of the man who had grabbed you. His silhouette is identifiable even in the murky dark. Relief turns your legs into jelly. He’s come for you after all. You allow yourself to go limp and slide down the wall, curling up on the floor. You squeeze your eyes closed so you don’t have to put a visual to the violence you’re hearing. It’s wet, crunchy. Eventually you only hear the heaving breathing of one man. You don’t know how long you sit there shaking.
You’re coaxed into opening your eyes by Six’s voice saying your name. Your bedroom door is ajar and the light is on, illuminating the hallway enough to comfortably see, but not enough to where you can’t pretend the dark smears and streaks are shadows. The attacker isn’t in the hall any more. Six is kneeling in front of you. He’s got a cut on his cheek but otherwise looks unharmed.
“Are you with me?” It’s said with aching concern.
"Yeah… Yeah I'm here." You’re all too aware of your stinging feet, the ache of your muscles, the pain in the back of your head.
Relief floods his face at your words. He reaches out but stops himself before making contact with you. You notice that his knuckles are split open and already bruising. His hand hovers in the space between your bodies, trembling slightly like he can’t bear to touch you but withdrawing is equally torturous. You rock onto your knees and shove yourself into his arms instead. They’re instantly around you. He holds you to himself. It’s all you can do to cling to him in kind. If you could nestle alongside the lungs in his chest, you would make a home in his rib cage.
"You did well. I'm sorry I wasn't able to keep him from you. His pals kept me busy." His voice is full of bitter frustration.
You shake your head and speak against his collarbone. “Is Claire okay?”
"She slept right through it. She's still asleep. I just checked on her." He soothes, running a hand up and down your back.
“Good…” you respond, unspeakably thankful. You could cry.
“Do I have your permission to pick you and take you to your bed? I don’t want you walking with your feet like this.”
“Yeah, but I’m too heavy?” You’re surprised and uncertain. Sure, he had slammed around a grown man like a rag doll, but what if….
“Believe me, you’re not.” He sounds almost amused.
He eases you up onto your knees and over his lap. He encourages you to put your arms over his shoulders. It’s startlingly intimate. You can easily see the fine lines around his eyes at this distance. His breath is warm and against your face, smelling faintly of the watermelon gum he chews. You have just a second to try and process it before he’s gaining a foothold. He stabilizes you with one thick arm under your thighs and his hand on your back. You reflexively gasp and clench the back of his jacket in your hands. Each of his steps is steady. There’s no sign of strain even as he navigates your bedroom doorway. He carefully lowers you to the edge of your mattress and withdraws his arm. Your thighs release their death grip against his hips and you settle into place, feet off the ground. You avoid looking at his face, you know yours feels like it’s on fire.
You notice that he had already moved your trashcan to your bedside and collected the first aid kit and a roll of paper towels. He must have known you’d cooperate with him. He drags your desk chair over and takes a seat. He pats his thigh encouragingly, and you place your heel right above his knee. He steadies you with a firm hand around your ankle. He removes the shards of glass. He doesn't let you jerk away, not with the grip he has on you, even when the tweezers catch on a particularly deep piece. He works in silence and you eventually allow yourself to lay flat on the bed while he does his task. You don't ask what happened to the man in the hallway. You don't ask how Six got detained in the first place. He doesn’t volunteer the information. The time passes and you’re halfway asleep by the time he’s tying off the wrap securing the bandages on your other foot and carefully easing your leg back down from its elevated position on his thigh.
"Please stay." You ask the ceiling. You feel more than see Six freeze in response to your question.
“I shouldn’t.” He sounds conflicted. You prop yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at him.
“Do you not want to?”
“It’s not that. It’s anything but that.”
You bite your lip and decide to throw all your cards on the table. “I sleep better when I'm around you. You keep the nightmares away.”
He looks surprised, devastated even. His demeanor couldn’t have been any different than if you had asked him to bare his neck and slit his own throat. Resigned, but he would still pick up the knife for you.
"Give me a minute," is his response.
He gathers up the supplies and turns off the light on his way out of the room, plunging you into the familiar dark of your room. You're not sure what exactly he does while he’s away, but he comes back sans jacket and with his sleeves rolled up. He carries the acidic tang of cleaning chemicals. He settles back into your chair after tossing the laptop on the desk. The two of you watch each other for a moment
"Are you okay?"
"Emotionally? I've been better. Physically? I'm fine. Just a few scratches and a bruised ego. " He's soft. You nod, reassured.
You keep your eyes on his face. It’s lit by the soft glow of the screen. It’s become an unhealthy habit, observing this man. You drift off to sleep facing in his direction. He's there when you wake up. He's clearly gotten up at some point to shower, but he did come back to resume his sentence at your side. You greet each other and he excuses himself back to the common areas of the home.
───※ ·❆· ※───
It becomes a thing, you spending time in his presence outside of what follows your nightmares. Something changed in you after the attack. It has culminated in a strong desire to be near him, to be within the frame of his reassuring gaze. Most of the time but not always, you go with him on his surveillance rounds. You walk with him through the yard. It always feels a little like you’re two society members having a chaperoned walk, but it’s soothing. Routine. You’ve also begun sitting with him in the hours before bed. At the table or on the couch while he watches the TV. The two of you simply exist together.
You rarely return to your room most nights, choosing instead to make your bed in the living room. If you lay just right on the couch, you can spot the bodyguard keeping watch throughout the night. His presence in the room eases your mind enough to allow you to peacefully sleep. You wish that he hasn’t become so essential. You don’t want to think about what your uncle’s return will mean.
He accepts your new routine without question. You notice that he always has the throw pillow moved from the armchair to the couch on the nights you don’t tell him you’re going to bed. There’s no blanket in the living room, but you usually wake up with his jacket of the day draped over you in lieu of one.
───※ ·❆· ※───
One night, you and Claire manage to bully him into a game of monopoly after the nurse leaves. You’ve been made the banker because Six doesn’t trust your sister and she doesn’t trust him enough either.
“You just landed on my boardwalk. That’s fourteen hundred bucks.” Claire announces.
Six takes his hand off the game piece and gives her a look . “I thought you owned the brown properties, not the blue ones.”
She picks up the deeds for Boardwalk and Park Place and waves them pointedly in his direction. “Nope, fourteen hundred. Fork it over.”
Six lets out a genuinely flustered growl. You have to smother your laugh. He counts out the remainder of his money and tosses it in front of your sister. He’s woefully short and out of assets. You and Claire had run him ragged the course of the game until she managed to bankrupt you with some suspiciously underhand tactics. Looks like she got to Six as well.
“I’m out.” He says, resigned.
Claire stretches her arms over her head and lets out a satisfied sigh. She then slumps back into her chair in smug victory as the bodyguard extracts himself from his seat at the table to do his nightly check of the doors and windows. She leans over and taps the watch on your wrist.
“He hasn’t won this back yet?”
“Oh… uh. No.” Your answer sounds flustered, even to you.
Your little sister raises her eyebrows. There’s a mischievous gleam in her eyes and she opens her mouth to say something before pausing. She instead gets up and gives you a squeeze around the shoulders. You return it with a one armed hug. “‘Night, sis.”
“‘Night. I’ll see you in the morning.” You return affectionately, letting her go.
“‘Night, Robot!” She cheerily shouts. There’s a responding grumble from the direction of the garage. Claire flashes you a grin and a thumbs up.
She’s in her room by the time Six finishes his checks. You’re in the middle of putting up the game when you feel the weight of his eyes on you. It’s just the two of you alone. He sits back down at the table to help you with it. He’s like a fire against your left side. You’re surprised he didn’t sit in his usual spot at the head of the table.
He lets out a yawn that he can’t suppress. He’s more undone tonight than you’ve seen him yet. He’s wearing a t-shirt tucked into slacks today. No blazer. His hair is tousled, not smoothed into place with product like usual. You think he looks more approachable like this. Your hands touch when you both go to scrape the same pile of deeds off the table. You both freeze. You hear your heart pounding in your ears and with it muffling every other sound, you trail your fingers over the top of his. He shudders when you brush over his knuckles and skim over the dots tattooed into the meat of his thumb. He doesn’t move, staying perfectly still for your exploration. You reach the horse on his forearm and you think his breath hitches in response. You linger on the horse, using your pointer finger to trace its outline. You follow the swoop of its tail, down the outstretched hind leg.
A soft groan from the man you’re touching makes you remember yourself. You withdraw your hand like you’ve been burnt. He twitches and jerks his own hand towards you like he’s about to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. You can still feel the sensation of his skin under your fingertips even as you glue your eyes to the remaining monopoly money and sort it into the tray with unsteady hands. You finish putting up the game in silence. You sleep in your own bed that night. He escorted you to your room.
───※ ·❆· ※───
You wake up weeping the next night. You lay on the couch staring at the living room ceiling while tears involuntarily run down the sides of your face. The imprint of spider webbing glass still swirling around in your mind. You must have made some kind of noise, because Six is making his way across the room.
You sit up and take a swipe at your face. “I’m sorry.”
"You have to let it out somehow. May I?” He asks, gesturing to the space next at your side. You nod and scoot over to give him slightly more space.
He puts the ever present laptop with its surveillance feed on the coffee table before sitting down. You feel your cushion dip. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. He’s solid. He relaxes underneath the pressure of your body. You instantly feel better. You watch the cameras with him for a while, sighing along with him as the local monkeys throw the lid off the trashcan at the curb in search of a meal. You’ll have to clean up after them after the sun rises. It’s one of the downsides to living in Hong Kong.
You stay leaning against him for a while, but a stiffness in your neck gets you to change position. Moving slowly so he’s fully aware of your movements, you carefully lay down. He’s taken the place of your improvised throw pillow cushion. Your head is resting on his thigh. He puts his hand on your upper arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He leaves it resting there, heavy and warm.
You wake up a few hours later. The sun is cascading through the living room, throwing rainbow hues on the floor thanks to the decorative glassware. You’re comfortable, too comfortable you realize. Your eyes widen in horrified surprise. You’re still using the bodyguard as a pillow. He's shifted slightly through the night, more slumped and relaxed. He's slid down further, and your face is firmly pressed against his hip now instead of his thigh. You know that you’re going to have the imprint of one of his belt loops on your cheek. His arm is loosely draped over you with his hand tucked underneath your side, a bastardized attempt at spooning. You crane your neck to catch a glimpse of his face. He’s sound asleep.
You try to sit up without disturbing him, but his arm tightens around you and applies pressure. You’re locked into place. Your mind races. If the nurse or, worse, Claire comes into the room and sees you and Six like this… You have to get up. You put a hand on his thigh and use it as a support to push yourself up. He’s instantly awake from the overt movement. He lifts his arm off your body and lets you sit up. You turn to say something, but find him already staring. His blue eyes are focused on you, they’re sleepy and confused but quickly sharpen to alertness. He looks vaguely distressed. All you can do is offer him a smile and squeeze his leg. You stand up and he follows. Your day goes as usual.
───※ ·❆· ※───
Your nights are largely the same, except that Six seems more distant. He doesn't linger as closely or as comfortably as he did before. Your interactions with the man are more professional. It’s as though weeks, months , of getting to know each other have been erased and you’re back at the beginning. Strangers again. It hurts. You miss him like hell even though he’s right there. Your sleep is worse. It’s almost as bad as in the weeks following the incident that started them in the first place, but they’re different. Amongst the disjointed scenes, there’s a broad shouldered man with dirty blond hair walking away from you in your nightmares now. You scream for him but no sound ever escapes you, just noiseless air. You never see his face.
You finally have enough when he escorts you to your room one night. You haven’t slept on the couch for over a week, and he’s taken that as his cue to resume seeing you to your bedroom door. You turn to face him as always in the doorway. Instead of saying goodnight like you do every night, you confront him. It even catches you by surprise.
"You're avoiding me.” He doesn’t deny it and you think that hurts more than the newfound distance itself.
“Why?” You ask only to get more silence. He won’t look at you.
”What did I do wrong?” Your voice trembles and you hate it. You fumble to take off his watch, to return that final tie between the two of you. He reflexively clamps down on your wrist before you can undo the clasp, pinning your hand to your own wrist. He releases his near crushing grip almost immediately, but the ghost of it lingers. Point taken. You let your arms fall to your side in a clear display of frustration, willing him to talk.
“It wasn’t you. I overstepped. Your uncle hired me to do a job and I've stepped beyond my purview. " The confession is rough. Torn out of him. The corner of his mouth pulls down in a grimace.
You stare at him blankly. "What?"
"I allowed myself to be too close with you. I apologize. I was unprofessional." He explains, but he won't quite meet your eyes. He hasn't for a while. Not since the morning following the night you fell asleep on him.
"You were... unprofessional?” You question, absolutely lost.
"Yes. I let my feelings about you affect me and my work.. I’ve become… compromised." It's matter of fact. It’s said like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.
You reach out and grab his jacket lapels. He looks at you like a beaten dog might, as though you might strike him. He makes no motion to pull himself from your grasp. You swallow hard and let out a breath.
"What about my feelings for you?" You ask. His breath catches and he shakes his head, disbelieving.
“It would be better if you didn’t feel anything for me.” There’s heartbreak in his blue eyes even as he looks at you like there’s nothing else in the world he would rather be seeing.
“Better for who?” Your mouth is unbearably dry as you ask the question.
“You. I’ll only jeopardize you.”
”Six…”
You pull him down and you press your mouth against his. He's rigid and unmoving for a moment before he's kissing you like a dying man who has just been offered immortality. His hands come to rest on your back. He grips your clothing like it’s a lifeline keeping him from going under. You gently nip at his bottom lip and he gasps against your mouth, a broken little noise. He tastes like watermelon gum.
You pull away. “Jeopardize me then.
That forces a quietly helpless laugh from him. "Now that was unprofessional." His voice is hoarse.
"I had to give you a proper example."
"Good job. I feel exampled.”
" Good ." You say and kiss him again. He's ready for it this time. He keeps it slow. His hands gently trace your body. He's slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth against your side. You step back, walking him into your room. His breathing is ragged and he's gripping you with a desperation you can’t put your mind around. You stand there, intertwined in each other. His facial hair is rough against your skin but the burn feels good. Your hands make their way around his neck and you gently card your fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He makes a wounded sounding noise in response before he pulls away. His hand is cradling the side of your face to keep you in place while his eyes roam across your face. It's as though he’smemorizing you, imprinting the fine details of this moment into his mind. As though he’s preparing to say goodbye. He trails his fingers gently down your jaw before he lets his hand drop.
"Will you stay? Can we sleep?" You ask before he can make up a way to excuse himself.
There’s a dizzying moment of silence before his face softens. “Okay. Yeah.”
The two of you are left to navigate the awkwardness of getting ready for bed. You spin your finger around in a circle and Six immediately gets the idea. He puts his back to you while you change into your sleepwear as quickly as you can. You turn around after giving him the verbal ‘all good’ in time to see him pull off his jacket and toss it onto the desk chair he had occupied when you first realized how addicted you were becoming to him. He pulls his belt off, coils it around his hand before setting it aside. You watch him unbutton his dress shirt. His fingers work deftly to slip the buttons through the holes. He shrugs the shirt off and lays it over the jacket. He’s in his undershirt and slacks. He bends down to untie his shoes and sets them aside. He straightens up and there’s nervousness on his face. You’ve never seen him nervous before. Worried? Yes, but not nervous.
You slide into the bed and fold down the other side of the blanket for him. You gesture for him to come lay down beside you. He approaches warily and settles in stiffly at your side. His head is on the pillow, hands overlapping on his stomach. He looks like a body in a coffin. You gently touch his hands. He jolts.
“Are you okay?” You ask softly, letting your hand rest on top of his.
“I haven’t slept in the same bed as someone since I was a child,” he admits.
“Oh… and that was…?”
“Over twenty-five years ago.”
You allow yourself a moment to grieve for this man before you pull away to shut off the bedside lamp.. You roll onto your back and flop your arms to the side. “Come here then. I’ve used you as a pillow. It’s time for me to return the favor.”
You feel the mattress shift under his weight and he hesitates, hovering over you with arms braced on either side of your body. It’s intimate, having him over you in this way. It’s enough to make you want to kiss him again.You hear him draw breath to raise some kind of concern so you just wrap your arms around him and pull him down on top of you. The weight of him pins you into the mattress. It’s comforting. He’s heavy and warm, akin to a weighted blanket. Granted, a weighted blanket wouldn’t have a muscular thigh wedged between your legs or be breathing against your neck in a way that makes you want to shiver. You fight to ignore your body’s response to him and work on easing the tension that’s holding him rigid against you.
He gradually relaxes as you trace your hands over his back. You feel more than hear him groan when you pass over a particularly sensitive spot. The rumble feels almost like a purr against your chest. You narrow in on that location, working your fingers into the tight muscle. He allows himself to go limp on top of you, no longer stiffly trying to spare you the brunt of his mass. You run your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as a reward for letting himself relax. It earns you a low moan and an involuntary shift of his hips. You’ll have to keep that reaction in mind for later.
Six’s breathing soon evens out. Years of exhaustion and sleep deprivation have him rapidly sinking into the oblivion of sleep when offered such a precious comfort. You fall asleep with your hand still in his hair. You have the most peaceful rest of your adult life. There’s no night terrors, no pain, no fear, no longing, you just sleep .
The bodyguard is still asleep on top of you when you wake. His breath is whistling slightly through his nose. Not quite a snore, but it’s a sound that gets a fond smile out of you. You wish you could wake up like this every morning. Just this once has given you an insatiable longing for more. You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought of the future. Uncle Fitz is due to return from his trip soon, which means the dismissal of Six from the Fitzroy home to complete whatever assignment is next on his task board. You don’t figure him for the abandoning type though. That way of thinking about him doesn’t fit in with the loyalty and thoughtfulness you’ve seen him exercise in his time spent with you and your sister. You’re sure that he’ll find a way to stay in contact after this job ends.
You gently smooth down his hair. He shifts and buries his face against the hollow of your throat more firmly. You pause, hoping you didn’t wake him, but then you hear a sleep roughened voice say, “Don’t stop on my account.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
#the gray man#sierra six#courtland gentry#sierra six x reader#the gray man fanfic#ryan gosling#ryan gosling character#the gray man (2022)#courtland gentry x reader#my work#my posts
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🍸 Harry Crosby headcanons
18+ -helluva lot of nsfw under the cut but interspersed with a lotta fluff and domesticity…to me that’s the appeal of this man, cannot be separated one from the other: the unassuming sweater wearing vet at the block party is also a man of hidden depths.
Long promised and woefully incomplete, the word count was getting out of hand so I’m tossing it out, there’s more where this came from. Not edited so, apologies
Entirely co-written by myself and my comrogue @crazymadpassionatelove , enhanced and bedazzled by chats with @ab4eva including special additions from other guests who commented under my announcement post, credit is given at each specific point for their contributions
|screencap cred grabbed from: @hawkinsfuller
First off let me say it’s been ages since I read A Wing and A Prayer. I remember loving it, loving him and I cannot stress how much I respect and admire the real Harry Crosby and his Jean, the Missus of our dreams.
This is purely for fun, a heavy mix of both Boyle’s portrayal and a tad of Crosby’s real life vibes as taken from his accounts by me. Sometimes you gotta take historical figures’ virtues in one area -say navigation and math- and translate it to the more suggestive aspects of life -say, how to find a clitori- *gunshot*
Because this man’s biography is the most oral-leaning, drink-your-respect-women-juice book ever. Ok, almost ever. For a wwii book at least. Uhem so -I am prejudiced, sue me.
See, sometimes it’s the quiet, stressed ones with a self consuming desire to please who have the cozy sweaters and the attentive appreciation for your interests and the stubby fat schlongs and the propensity to keep you in suburban comfort all your days
The compulsive drive to call you “button” and be on time for church and thank you for your scrambled eggs each morning with eager kitchen countertop oral before waking you children up with annoyingly soft catchphrases they’ll recite fondly at his funeral: “rise and shine” etc
Also back to the perfectly respectable schlong for just a moment -This is a Thing! Justice for the perfectly adequate plug stoppers, not everyone needs a rolling pin, who can resist giving head when the head is the same gorgeous color as his lips?!
Mr Crosby is skipping off to lecture college kids about literature post-war with a pep in his step that you put there without fail, you can’t help it, it’s as essential as the matching “his and hers” coffee mugs you bought during your honeymoon
Cookies slightly burned cuz you’re busy as bunnies in the bathroom while the kids ride bikes in the cul-de-sac is a Crosby staple
This is a man who as husband keeps you well supplied with mixers and microwaves and cute little nighties and also loves your brain -SCORE.
Loves to gift you with bath oil and fun stuff to smell good. He's into lavender. It benefits him in the end, loves to sit on the edge of the tub and just talk with you for ages
Croz’s go-to distresser is to have Jean sit on his face until his vision spots
She knows as soon as he walks in the door. Fixes him a Shirley Temple, takes him by the hand to the bedroom and …..boom.
De—stressed
As for the ptsd nightmares? He just barely starts to thrash in his sleep and Jean is rolling that man over and taking matters into her own hands
You’re Jean now, you do realize that don’t you? It was never ever going to be anyone but Jean
This man leaves love letters on your pillow, in your apron pocket, in the dash of your car anywhere at all that you’re likely to be. All of this even though he’s gonna be home by six that evening.
Also, hear me out: lots of evenings he just lays down next to you for ages, facing each other on your sides, absentmindedly mapping your body with his calloused palms and fingering you for ages while talking about Persuasion.
Actually gives a shit about your opinions too, and not in the way of wanting to argue them. When you make a good point his eyes get even droopier and he grabs your neck and…
“You're one smart cookie Mrs Crosby”
“My clever, wise, beloved…”
Honestly though, deep connections and the ability to go vulnerable, and if those moments are often concluded with little laughs to shake off the moment -it doesn’t diminish it
Can actually talk about dying to you, not in a morbidly preoccupied way, but he can face it and admit it and be vulnerable enough to acknowledge the likelihood
Then get on with what needs doing
He appreciates how well you grow to know him, and he in turn makes a lifelong study of you
Also, this man is so highly attuned to your well being.
Yes you have to put up with his stress but for you? He will man-up repeatedly and without thought. He doesn’t even think twice about just up and leaving whatever situation is tiring you. did you see him hop up to get the fuck outta that bar fight? Yeah so, you’re bored? Tired? Stressed? It’s not even machismo it’s just a homebody not giving a fuck with the subtext of “my wife and I would like to go home and read and cockwarm”
Often gives the shiftiest excuses to army buddies and coworkers just to go home and hang with you, swears he has to repair that squirrel feeder -or that an alligator is in his swimming pool, “sorry guys maybe drinks next week”
Don’t tell the guys but…HE PAINTS YOUR TOENAILS
Maybe some of your high school friends snickered about Harry Crosby way back when. Making googly eyes at you and barely getting out the most stammered greetings? Bookish and a little clumsy at times?
Ha, you won in the end
He comes home in one piece, that beautiful schlong still intact
you prayed for that ok?
“Lord keep my husband safe -- and his girthy manhood in tact as well” …for the babies you’re hoping for of course...just that… kneeling in silk pajamas each night, adding this addendum with a blush but was always faithful to keep it in your prayers
Sometimes you have that thought in church as well...so you has to take a couple deep breaths and calm yourself...it's because you want children...not because you’re already so sprung off this man's dick after only a couple weeks of married life.
weeks that feels like a lifetime ago now, by the way
Prim and lovely Jean Crosby staring off into stained glass worlds thinking of having her tight little hole tugged open and her guts rearranged, it’s even worse than her thoughts prior to the wedding, because she’s had the experience, then suddenly it was ripped away
And she’s empty and scared to death for him
She gets asked to sing at the funeral of a lieutenant who never even got off the ground during a training flight,
work and church and such are hopeless distractions
Wanders through the department store wondering if every other wife misses this way, does everyone feel the same primal ache?
Dear Jean Crosby terribly worried she’s a freak yet entirely unrepentant for it
But ya know what’s probably funny? Across the ocean Harry Crosby is sometimes so direly missing his wife in the carnal way that he just about spaces out too, and god knows there’s zero privacy anywhere and the showers are the showers but like???? it’s just a no-go most times and everyone gets very confused when he’s in this mood?? Not at all suspecting baser distractions are what’s at play. Somehow someone figured it out, maybe he actually snapped a little about having five seconds to himself while reading a letter and they’re like
OH
And somehow there seems to suddenly be five minutes or so when NO ONE but Crosby is in the showers?!
It only takes him two minutes to get there but he needs to stand there catching his breath and clutching at his heart while he thinks of Jean sprawled beneath him
This is probably Douglass’ doing? Because he’s a good dude, he doesn’t underestimate Croz AND he’s a dirty little bastard himself
“Fellas, the man got himself a wife while half of you guys are virgins? Of course he has urges?”
In a quiet, rare moment, Gale bends his ear -Harry is so modest and low key...unlike some folks *looking at you Bucky*- “So, uh, where'd ya say you and the missus went off to before ya came here?“
Gale’s gotta casually open the door for this conversation “Lots of good sights to see? I, um, haven't done much traveling myself”
It takes Croz a few conversations until he realizes just what Gale means, until then there’s a lot bewildered eyebrows at the inquiry and bashful appreciation for the interest: “Major Cleven I-I already told you, sir, we had a little cabin in the Alleghenies for a week?“
He's been telling Jean about Major Gale Cleven, about how she'd really like him. Gale is a good fella. He tells her about all their "travel talk"
Until one day Jean writes back: “Oh honey, that Cleven of yours is a virgin”
Whether Harry divulges to Gale anything he learned about ladies in that little cabin in the mountains writhing before a fire on a bearskin rug, that first time Harry actually didn’t stop and ask if Jean was dying every time she made a noise but instead, kept going until her cried properly built and she screamed…
well, it was probably an abbreviated account that mostly consisted of “wives are just wonderful people, Major Cleven” with a far off look in his eyes
Gale leaves him to it after all- Harry was married for like 3 seconds before he left, It's literally either playback of the last horrific mission or thinking of the curve of her spine
He gets the dreamiest look on his face, eyes all shiny, mouth a little slack
Somehow these two can be so passionate and yet it’s so wholesome and good and angelic?!!! It’s the allure of them
Because it’s all in these gentle and safe and good boundaries? Like it isn’t complicated and yet it’s not simple and it’s neither settling nor is it turbulent. something to be said for “doing it right”
They genuinely thank God for each other, they’re so sure it was always intended to be just them
I have 1k of headcanons just for the homecoming ok? Y’all will have to request those separate
But once home:
The eye contact they make at social events?? It’s a whole language, the most loving and adorable thing ever
He may not be a real gem of a singer but he’s an excellent hummer. so much gentle humming around the house while he’s fixing the stove light or rocking a baby to sleep or-
You know what I mean don’t you? Some men can just humm and you’re instantly wet? No I don’t mean humming a Billie Holliday tune
I mean humming when you make a new reaction to his incessant fingering while he’s reading, makes him look away from the page and arch a brow, highly inquisitive puppy dog look on his face, reading glasses pulled down.
*a new spot? After all this time? Must investigate further*
This man, when in his element, is a goddamn tease, he’s impossible, he’s goofy, he makes sex the joyous sacrament its supposed to be every damn time and he ain’t shy to remain stark naked for ages
Praise kink for miles in that, once you’ve praised him, he will keep doing whatever earned it for the next two hours. Brace yourself
He can recite your favorite literature passages (he knows them and took pains to memorize them by your tenth anniversary) when he’s gently plowing you from the back with his hand on your neck and your ear lob in between his teeth
He’s a biter my friends -gotta keep quiet somehow, can’t scar the passel of children y’all made, after all
So many excuses given to kids about “mama and I need to talk about the mortgage” -very rarely is mortgage even thought of once the door is closed and locked
But that brings us back to the early days, it’s one thing to know someone so well after all those years but the early days?
Two Virgins named Jean and Harry went straight from the chapel to fucking like Bunnies before he went to war
Harry had done his research tho. All that reading…
Harry Crosby totally ate his wife out on their wedding night.
even though he’d never really seen a full vagina before
he’s a bit methodical, yeah? At first? with a hint of overly flustered and terribly delighted
So I’m just picturing him like hunkering down there, tentative but firm hands on your thighs: “to get my bearings, honey pie” as he takes in the lay of the land
because there’s a lot happening down there on a lady, ok? -there’s petals and more petals and slippery slopes and little buttons and a tiny hole that has to be for pee, no way he’s supposed to go in that one?! but, but she doesn’t have another? Well the backdoo- no can’t even think of that. Oh god ok, ok, vaginal opening, -I guess that’s a vaginal opening?! and due north, a little button that makes her squeak when I touch it. ok ok, might as well start there…
I can see him with a metaphorical pencil behind his ear, ready to jot down notes
Jeanie finally sighs and grips him by the ears and hauls him up for a kiss and just grinds against him and insists it’s lovely
“just kiss me, silly.” she says to him after awhile.
“Mmm, I do like kissing you, Jean” he grins back
he’s naturally kissing his way to her boobs and staying there a lovely long time but she starts pushing at his dark head, *hint hint* lower down her belly and lower, and lower and he’s so caught up he doesn’t even realize it until there’s a sweet little patch of curls under his chin and he looks up with the oddest expression of curiosity and doubt on his face only to be met with Jean’s expectant eyebrow
She wouldn’t want me to?—-*ah, she just face planted me in pussy, ok then*
Lapping at it with the biggest grin, there may or may not have been some noise complaints
the whole apartment complex just knows he’s a good husband, never would peg him as a stud if you met him in the hallway but, Jean sure takes forever to say goodbye to him in the mornings so he must do something right
All the neighbors just can't help but be happy for those two kids
They cook them food and leave the casserole dishes on the landing so they can savor each other for as long as possible before he leaves
Next Sunday they show up at church like dutiful little Americans and they’ve got hickies everywhere and his cheeks are a permanent pink, Her knees are red and raw under her church dress
I feel like maybe they get a little adventurous as their time together draws to a close? Maybe they break a dining room chair? She's too mortified to put it out on the curb
*saves it for 50 years*
Some of those wedding china ends up in pieces on the floor. Can't explain to her aunts why they don't have a full set all of a sudden
i really hope he never loses that occasional hair trigger premature ejaculation tendency.
Sometimes it even shocks him, “O-Oh...shoot”
The last day together is a dismal and precious night
The poor man probably laid there on her sweaty boobs after blowing his last load with the saddest *fml* face on as he processed it being, indeed, his last
But HOMECOMING!
and now the war is over they can set up house and make babies
A small breeding kink, after all, these men marched home from war and basically were told "get a job and let's repopulate for all the boys we lost!"
It’s so damn primal when you think about it but under the veneer of the starched and polished 50’s
Croz can't think straight in that tight little hole, let alone think of the ramifications of another baby
“Give it to me, give me another, come on Harry, we've got an empty space in the Christmas card anyway, think of it!! fill me up baby oh godddd Jesus bless your pretty dick-*
it’s the most mundane reasons and he still busts a nut like she’s some filthy vixen and not his sweet and slightly too optimistic wife
frantic love making with a sweater and socks still on, too
Jean is a writher because the longer they are married the longer he lasts and soon she’s come and he just keeps going and she cannot keep quiet then and he’s too big to ignore or calm down between, just thick enough to always be tugging just right and she fully sobs from it sometimes
Often she’s trying to cup herself?!? Fully spasming and shaking and curling in but his strong forearm is over her belly and his lips on her ear
This man is a god at spooning sex
she is so cock feral when she falls pregnant it almost alarms him
The books didn't say anything about this?! He's exhausted and dehydrated and his classes are suffering as a result
Wants to ask Egan if he encountered this phenomenon
His war buddies become a new father support group
"Hang in there pal, only three more months"
They’ll be in the kitchen just chatting before dinner, she wants to tease him. Scoops a little cherry pie filling onto her finger. He licks it and sucks it off -- bites the finger too, in the background dogs are barking and kids are running amuck
As the Crosbys you’re in for a life of very benign but nauseatingly idyllic Christmas parties.
Snow globes, y’all
Sweaters, spiked eggnog and very well thought out gifts
Harry is the sort to carry Jean's purse when they are out shopping and she is trying on clothes. He also has no problem going and buying her sanitary napkins at the drugstore when she's on her period, because it's completely normal and there's nothing for anyone to be embarrassed about. Basically, he is just stupidly in love with her. He's like a puppy who will always follow, but she doesn't take advantage of that fact (credit to:@noneedtoamputate)
He is Harry “Have You Met My Wife?” Crosby back home, too, it’s even worse when he gets tipsy and his confidence grows and good luck shutting him up about how beautiful she is
This is the sorta man whose kids only learn Daddy was a goddamn boss during the war when they’re outta college, a very casual “oh yeah, that was sort of a thing, pass the salt.”
It’s canon this man cut his own son’s hair all his little life, propped him up on a little stool in the back yard and got to trimming -some of the only times the boy ever heard of those devastating missions
Imagine? Same man who used to take you out on the porch into the night air and rock against his sweater when you were a baby and wouldn’t settle is the same man who bombed the hell outta Fortress Europe
He’s the kind of man whose kids are so enamored over how both sides of the coin could settle in the same man, they end up making a documentary about him
Now I also need you to think of this man at bath time in the early 50’s -Shirt sleeves rolled up, top two buttons on his pristine white button up shirt popped with a peak of chest hair showing through, his curls getting steamed by his kids bubble baths
He’s got the prettiest slightly hairy forearms, y’all -according to Jean at least
Gives himself a bubble beard to make his kids laugh, will stay on his knees watching them play for ages, fully participating
His white shirt gets fully transparent with all this splashing and Jean has to really keep her mind on what’s next when she can so easily see his hair and pretty little nipples pebbled in a chill under them. Stops her whining about water on the floor in seconds.
Harry’s already hushing her and mopping it up with a towel anyway
The Crosby kids will have memories of their idiotically in love and enthralled parents who loved being parents, wrapping their baby selves snuggly into towels and setting them on the counter and just cracking up over how cute they looked with their chubby and shiny widdle faces poking out of terry cloth
Jean and Harry spend a lotta time doing that, they just love their kids, ok?
Brushing their cute little Croz curls
Jean can’t say no to a single one with their sad puppy eyes their daddy gave them
Sometimes they sit the kids in front of the fireplace (they obviously needed a house with a fireplace after that honeymoon) and line them up. Talk about them as if they aren't sitting right there. "Honey, look at those gorgeous eyes -- and his smile! Oh my, who do these cuties belong to?"
But it’s not all placid domesticity. Picture this:
Crosby with a mega phone, organizes a neighborhood Easter egg hunt. He's in charge, his aviators on, taking this so seriously
There are maps, he’s planned this for weeks, some of those traits and skills he picked up during the war come back at the oddest times
this gets even more intense if any of the war buddies are there
Harry writes letters to them strategizing, they all come and bring their own kids
It makes the local paper for being one of the biggest Easter egg hunts the state has ever seen
Night falls, children fall asleep and there are still some eggs left. Armed with booze and flashlights, the boys go out to collect the rest
Harry and Jean don't collect any though, they end up in a bush necking somewhere
Bucky gets very adamant about finding them and Brady is just as adamantly begging him not to
But Major Egan cannot be stopped, he rallies his men, hopping on the kids’ bikes and scooters
Everyone heckling each other in the dark suburban neighborhood
"Ya lost your touch Buck, keep up will ya?"
They all end up in a schnapps induced heap in the Crosby's backyard, long limbs all folded up on too small equipment
Jean and Harry leisurely stroll back up the street under lamp glow to their house where everyone is feral and collapsed and calling loudly for their hosts
Sharing soft little smiles and picking twigs out of each others hair
They tuck these idiot men in on the couches and floor, blankets, sleeping bags and dogs
Hear me out: Jean is the only human able to talk a belligerent Bucky out of his thirtieth beer
She has that sweet way about her that makes every person wanna be a better man for her
When he finally gives in and throws his arm over her little shoulders and swears she’s a good woman, Harry is there with the pan and the aspirin and the blanket
She makes them all the most perfect hangover breakfast the next morning, gingham checked apron stretched over swollen belly
Harry nuzzles her belly when she stops at his plate to dish up the eggs
Everyone wants to gag over how perfectly content these two are but that would be a waste of the best breakfast in the USA
And if Jean happens to make the best baked goods on the block - Croz is making sure everyone knows just who’s muffins those are on the bake sale table. Or if she wants to pursue a career or education? Harry is her biggest cheerleader, doing anything and everything to support her and being sure that everyone knows how incredible she is at what she does. (Credit @blurredcolour)
They may be the sweater wearing, block party and Sunday school couple but don’t think anybody gets away with being snide to Mrs. Jean Crosby -there will be comeuppance, even if it’s just an exquisitely literate verbal evisceration.
There's even more often a roaming band of local kids who kick the shins of everyone who's mean to Mrs. Crosby, because she gives them sweets and feeds them when they're hungry and cleans up their scrapes when play gets too rough and -if Mr. Crosby hands out a comic or two to the boys that "accidentally" tripped some bloke who was harassing his wife, well. All is fair in love and war. (Credit to @promptedwordsmith)
When in the summer of 49 the Crosbies get a swimming pool dug? It might as well be considered public property.
not just the kids who are attached to the crosbies, though. your home is a constant revolving door of visitors - including a bunch of ex-servicemen. if it's not bucky lounging in the pool, or rosie painting the fence in his shirtsleeves because he wanted to be helpful, then douglass is smoking a cigarette in the yard while trying to make you laugh. ev is asking harry to show him how to read this goddamn map bc they're supposed to be taking a trip to the grand canyon in a month, and bubbles is over for dinner every other night. even brady sometimes shows his face, if only to carp at harry for getting them lost over france that one time while working the barbecue because you asked him to. when you and harry bought the house with an extra room you weren't sure you would ever use, you didn't expect it to be occupied as often as a popular hotel. if anyone ever had any bad intentions toward the crosbies, they're definitely rethinking it. those that don't...well. being in the air corps teaches one all sorts of creative ways of getting back at people. (Credit to @fidelias)
Imagine all the different skills the Crosby kids (_and their neighbor friends who never seem to leave_) learn from these guys?
“Oh yeah, Bucky Egan taught me how to swim while wearing his aviators…”
In other words:
Harry Crosby went home and built himself a little Norman Rockwell Camelot and then opened the doors of the kingdom to his buddies and -that’s as it should be.
And that’s not even mentioning how the Air Force and the CIA walked up to his front porch and interrupted a backyard ballgame to ask him for his help
It sucks to be super smart and needed when all ya wanna do is teach literature, go camping and help keep the church life going
But still
Jean sure looked good in Pakistan, the kids enjoyed a new culture and Harry likes to say he may have done some good
#mota fanfic#masters of the air#harry crosby#Harry Crosby fanfic#Harry Crosby x reader#mota headcanons#masters of the air fanfiction#anthony boyle#hbo war fanfic
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I just read your post about Steve and Eddie taking hobby classes together and I love the idea of a big famous rockstar taking a paint n sip class and these moms going “…. Is that??? No??? I’m pretty sure that’s Eddie munson. My kid loves his band” and Eddie interacting with moms who want to FaceTime their kid cause they met someone famous. Because you know some moms have no shame when they meet someone their kids love
The first time they went to one of these classes, Eddie tried to do the whole low-key celebrity thing and wear a hoodie and a baseball cap. Steve took one look at him and was just like, “What are you doing? You look like someone’s stalker. No one is going to recognize you, you weirdo.”
But Steve is wrong.
It’s not just people recognizing him from the band their kid likes. Corroded Coffin was very popular in the nineties. There are people in this class that had posters of Eddie Munson on their bedroom walls when they were teenagers, and they insist on getting their picture taken with him too.
Eddie plays along, of course, because he doesn’t really get a choice unless he wants this whole five-week course of classes to be super awkward. He even says hi to some kid on FaceTime who doesn’t even know who he is because his mom confused Corroded Coffin with the Counting Crows somehow.
These things are fine.
Steve typically finds things like this amusing because he knows that Eddie secretly loves it, but that stops immediately the moment the woman across the table from them heavily implies that Eddie is on her and her husband’s list. Her name is Stephanie. She’s a part of a little gal’s night out group, has lipstick on her teeth, and a little too much wine in her, leans closer and stage whispers, “You know, the list that married couples have.”
“Interesting, interesting,” Eddie hums, humoring her. “Am I in good company on this list?”
Steve watches this conversation play out and decides that he doesn’t like Stephanie’s flirty tone or the fact that Eddie hasn’t just shut her down because he is married. And also gay. He’s gay too. It’s not like Steve feels threatened by a literal non-existent possibility, you know.
Just – have some respect for the man’s wedding ring, right?
She leans across the table to tap Eddie’s arm at some joke he made and Steve is so distracted by this that he accidentally knocks over one of the water cups when he goes to clean his brush. The water splashes across the table and nearly gets Stephanie’s shoes, but she moves away.
“Shit,” Steve says, “Sorry. I – shit. Let me help you.”
Luckily no one’s canvases got ruined since they’re all propped up on little easels and Steve helps mop the water up off the table and floor where Stephanie is working. He almost forgets about her flirting with his husband until she tells Eddie, “Your friend is so sweet, isn’t he?”
Steve tosses his wet paper towels in the trash and points to Stephanie’s smudgy painting of one of the clown figurines on the table, and says, “Wow, your art is amazing. I wish I could paint a self portrait like that.”
#Steve is *~*petty*~* and Eddie loves it#otherwise he would’ve put a stop to the flirting a long time ago#eddie munson tiktok saga#steve harrington#eddie munson
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A taste of the King
Am I making a self indulgent Fatui fanfic that is probably ooc? Yes. Am I ignoring the pride month event that I haven't finished along with my other drafts? Yes. I'm doing what I want-
Pairing; Pantalone x GN!AMAB!Reader
Reader's pronouns: ("You" pronoun mostly, male titles will be used)
C/W; mentions of burning and bodily harm, mentions of mistreatment by parental figure, slow burn, smut [Pantalone], gore.
Snezhnaya's weather was far from suitable to your taste. Wrapping yourself into a fatui agents long coat, you huffed as the clothing merely reached your waist, a given since you were much taller than them. The fatui and you were sailing to the land of everlasting winter, having been lucky to escape the brutal treatment you received in Inazuma. The agents came to an agreement after their treasure horder client came with Nobushi behind them, cradling and guarding what seemed to be a hurt young man.
Currently, your hand is being bandaged by an agent, gently wrapping the cloth against your palms, a great contrast to the way they wield their sacrificial knives.
A mage had carefully cool your skin using her magic, taking note of any change in expression you make due to it.
The others who were situated in the camp were guarding outside of your door, not letting anyone enter without permission.
Soon enough, you reached the icy lands of Snezhnaya. A slinger held your hand as you unstably got out of the boat. There were three Harbingers gathered at the port, making you clench the slingers hand in fear.
You knew what they are capable of, having seen what the 11th and 8th could do. To your suprise, they didn't harm you, instead the eldest looking walked forward slowly towards you. He stand around eye level to you, and scowled when he looked down towards your bruised and hurt body.
Because you were scared, you didn't notice the one whose face was obscured by his helmet had placed his coat atop your fragile body. In his hands were the agents coat, handing it back to the man who gave it to you.
His coat was much larger than the agents, making your involuntary shiver stop. You quickly held the garment close, relishing in the warmth it gave you. The lady helped you walk, making you remove your hand from the slinger.
Capitano bid the agents goodbye, as he and Pierro walked out of the port with Columbina and you in tow. She knew about your hesitation, so she hummed a tune, one that you recognize as the one she sung at Signora's funeral.
They lead you towards the palace, it's large and gorgeous architecture impressed you. Those who were guarding quickly bowed, and you might've missed the faint gasp emitting from them if it wasn't for your heightened hearing.
Years of trauma made you more aware of your surroundings after all. They opened the gigantic white door, letting you see what awaits you.
Six figures all respectively turned towards you, making your blood run cold from their stares. A lady sat upon the large ice throne, her eyes seemed to have softened in your presence.
A person you recognize as Childe nearly tackled you into a hug, sobbing and shaking as you try to calm him down. You patted his back, slightly wincing in pain because of the arrow mark near your heart.
Under the Tsaritsa's order, Dottore lead you to his lab, having his clone clear up some of the clutter. You noticed the jarred glass eyes, pieces of a human strapped onto a table, it's head being carved open, exposing it's brain.
"Were you studying the human body, Dottore?" You try to make conversation with him to ease your mind.
"Yes. I'm curious as to how the mind processes emotional distress, and I needed my curiosity satiated." He answered calmly, different from his younger [manga] self. He ushered you onto a clean table as he sat down onto a chair beside it. A clone of his brought some medical supplies, and he gestured you to shed your clothes.
You nod, and pulled your black turtleneck above your head, tossing the torn and tattered shirt into a small basket.
There were many lacerations across your skin, most notably your arms. A large mark similar to an arrow injury was present near where your heart should be. Burns litter your upper back, seemingly from a firework explosion.
"Holy Tsaritsa, what on Teyvat did they do to you?" He muttered under his breath, quickly fixing up your injuries.
"Kujou Sara shot me, aiming for my heart. Deflecting the Anemo archon's Vortex was difficult, hence the lacerations on my body. As for my back, it was from an incident in Liyue." You said, seemingly calm reliving those memories.
For the first time in his life, Dottore was stunned. You deflected an Archon's attack and survived. Getting shot with arrow, you didn't flinch like it was just another day.
"I'm used to violence against me. It's nothing new." You mumbled, rotating your wrist to make sure it was still usable.
Pierro who came to check on you was silent as he took everything what you said in. He relayed this information to the Tsaritsa during a harbinger meeting later that day.
It was now law and enforced that You'll be guarded and cared for 24/7. As the Divine who received such treatment by its "followers", it is now mandatory to be on one's best behaviour should they want to be punished.
In a way, it was peaceful. You were fed nutritional and high quality meals, many forms of Entertainment were given to you, and all of the affection you could ever want. Perhaps it wasn't that bad...
It's almost concerning the amount of gifts you received from Pantalone, gawking at most of the items pricetags, that if you translate to your old world's currency, it'll be worth billions.
Childe was like an overeager housecat, not that you're complaining. He brought joy to your boring life, telling you about Teucer's adventures, his stories, and so much more.
Columbina and Sandrone were the ones who tailored your new outfit. You were gifted with a new black dress shirt, a cool gray vest, and a thick fluffy coat like the one they own.
Whenever you feel trapped emotionally, Pulcinella was always there to comfort and talk with you, and it made your heart melt that he's willing to be the parent figure you never had growing up.
Capitano taught you how to effectively strike your opponent, much to Pierro's dismay. You two can go for hours sparring with eachother. Childe feeling jealous lmao-
Pierro who would play games with you, specifically chess as a past time of sorts. You usually stop by his office to help his stressed out self by indulging him in his favourite game over tea.
Sometimes, You bring snacks to Arlechinno's orphanage. The kids love you, and would often beg her to bring you there and spend time with them.
Now, the relationship between you and Dottore was to put it lightly, odd. Perhaps, it was morbid curiosity that exchanging science literature with eachother became common for you two. You were a doctor in your old world, so you took liberty in explaining your findings to him.
It was a rare occasion that you and Pantalone were alone together, with you helping the Tsaritsa manage her nation and spending time with the other harbingers, you rarely had time for yourself.
Hearing a knock on your bedroom door, you opened it to see Pantalone, holding a bouquet of Viparyas flowers.
"Strange, how did you get these? They're only found in the Dahri ruins or Vanarana in Sumeru. It's nearly impossible to obtain." You were perplexed, holding one between your fingers as he placed the rest onto your table.
"I researched on what you may be interested in, And it seemed that Flora was something you enjoy. Have you cultivate some before?" He asked, placing his coat onto the hanger, eyes gazing at your handsome face.
"I have as a science experiment. It was merely child's play." You say, placing the flower onto a small container of water.
"I wonder, why is it that you decided to gift me Viparyas flowers? It isn't usually what you would gift me." He hummed at your question.
"It's simple really, I'm planning to court you." He replied after an awkward silence.
Ah, so that's the reason. "The romantic type aren't you?" You giggled, pressing your arms onto the table, caging him between the hard wood and your body.
He chuckled and wrapped his arms onto your neck, "And what it I am?"
"Not that I'm complaining," and with that you sealed your lips with his. You raised an eyebrow in suprise when he kissed you back eagerly, softly moaning against your lips.
He pulled you in, wanting to stay as close to you as he possibly can. You slowly slid your tongue into his mouth, tasting every inch of it while he grinded his body against yours.
You pulled away after some time, letting the man breathe, while your hands busied themselves with taking off his clothes.
He reached down to help you, but you swatted his hand away. You pulled off his pants, and lowered yourself to your knees. Blowing hot air towards his cock, you watch in amusement as the organ come to life.
Inch by inch, you let the organ enter your oral cavity, and skillfully lick and suck every part of him until the hilt. Letting out a plethora of moans, he didn't waste any praise for you.
You felt his cock twitch, yet you wanted to tease him, so you removed your mouth from him, making him whine.
"I was so close- Your honor, i-"
"Patience, Regrator. I wouldn't want you to come undone so easily." You muttered, tracing circles against his thigh. Using two fingers covered in his precum, you put one finger into him, making him moan out.
You added the other finger in, and he keened in pleasure. The padded tips brush against his prostate sent his toes curling, it was too much!
Sighing out in disappointment, you looked over to the glazed expression he had in his eyes and large globs of cum staining the floor.
"Tch." You clicked your tongue, making Pantalone gasp as you slapped his dick. "What did I say?"
"S-Sorry Sir! I couldn't help-" Another slap, this time to his ass.
"Hah, Disobedience would you get nowhere with me. Turn around." He did, albeit with shaky knees. He arched his back, raising his ass up. You knead the soft flesh for a few seconds before slapping them again.
He couldn't find the words to complain when you suddenly shoved every inch of you inside him. Your dick was curled upwards, making it hit his prostate dead on.
"Ah- fuck! So b-big.." he replied, voice raised a pitch when you brutally jackhammer into him, not caring about who will hear, while your hand firmly grasped his dick, rendering him unable to cum.
He could feel his resolve shaking with every creak of the table, eyes beginning to see white as hot tears of pleasure run down his pretty face.
You were abusing his prostate, sucking in a breath every time he would clench on you. And, having mercy when your release came, you let go of his dick and came inside him.
After a cleaning session, you two decided to cuddle, not realising Arlechinno heard everything and is now clutching her bottom half in shame...
#genshin impact cult au#sub genshin#sagau smut#sub pantalone#genshin sagau#fatui x reader#fatui x male reader
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His Promise > P3.
Warning(s): Age Gap, mentions of bodily fluids, consensual sex between teen/older male, violence, triggering subjects, mentions of harassment, bullying, and/or sexual violence against minors (not by Rio!), physical assault, dark humor, and who knows what else…
Must be 18*. DO NOT INTERACT if you’re underaged.
Part one | Part two | Part three |
Description//: In which Rio was your father’s close friend, until your father was locked up and in order to pay him back for taking a wrap for him, he sets out to take you in after your fathers arrest.
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He nodded his head. “Yeah, remember I used to be in your father’s gym all the time. So, when she would come, I would see her. But, let’s get going though. We have a long day ahead of us and I wanna get us breakfast.” You nod, following him out the house. He tossed you the keys. “You’re driving.” You smiled, rushing around to the driver side door of his black g-wagon. Backing out the driveway, you followed his directions. “Where we headed?”
“Same diner we ate at yesterday then from there, you and me gonna have a little workout.” You chuckled. “Work out?”
He nods his head. “Workout.” He repeated back to you. You were curious as to what he’d meant, You were not about to do anything crazy, You both entered the diner. He ordered what he wanted and you ordered what you wanted. You smiled as they brought out two big stacks of pancakes with syrup and butter and some eggs and bacon to the side. “Coffee, please.” You smiled up at the waitress. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Coffee?” You nod your head. “I don’t really like it, it’s just something I did with my dad and whenever I miss him, I crave it.” You answered him. He sat with his back against the wall his feet propped up and arm around the top of the booth, his eyes scanning the diner. “You not gonna eat?” You asked him
“I’m about to.” He leans forward looking down at his phone then at you. “You say you like your school, what child in their right mind likes school?”
You laugh. “I do. I mean, I’m a nerd. I love school, I just love to learn new things.” You shrug your shoulders. Rio dipped his fries into ketchup. “Steak and fries for breakfast?” He nodded his head, Rio wasn’t much of a morning breakfast kind of guy, although he liked the occasional waffle. He found himself wanting steak and fries this morning, him being a regular and this place being one of his money laundering businesses, he got what he wanted. “Perfect meal for the day.” He cut into his steak after applying steak sauce. Your mouth watered at the delicious sight of the well-done steak. You didn’t see how people ate their steak uncooked, it was just nasty.
“You want some?”
You shook your head no, biting into your pancake stacks that were on your fork. You smiled. “I’m good, thanks though.” He nods his head. He knew he was about to work this steak off so he wasn’t too worried. He still couldn’t believe how much you’d grown, he always knew that you would turn out to be a beautiful and respectful young lady, and you turned out just like he thought. At the moment, he didn’t think much of his attraction to you because at the moment, you was like his niece and his friends kid. “When the last time you talked to your dad?”
“Last time we talked was the day they hauled him away in handcuffs. I mean he tried to call a few times, but, I haven’t seen or spoken to him since.”
Rio rubbed the side of his face. “Why you so hard on him? It was self defense.” You tapped the butt-end of your fork on the table, looking at Rio. Shaking you head, you rolled your eyes. “That’s what he says and wants me to believe. But I saw the photos. That man was beaten to a pulp. I’ve seen my dad beating someone in self defense. That’s not it. He beat that man with more than just his fist.” You we’re adamant on your belief. You loved your father, you wanted to believe in his innocence. “And I looked into his eyes, he lied to my face about what happened.” You pushed your food to the side.
“Can we not talk about him?”
Rio licked his lips. “No, mama. Because obviously there’s something you’re missing and clearly you got some anger towards your father. Does it matter what he did? He did what he had to do. He’s still your father.” You shook your head. “My father left me alone out here. He made a decision that gave him life in prison without the possibility of parole, he made me another stereotype. A black girl in a rich school whose father is locked up. Every day I go to school, kids pull at my hair, calling me all kinds of names. Calling me the seed of a murderer. Do you not know the humility I face every day?”
“And you think this decision was easy on him?”
You shook your head. “Rio.. you don’t get it. You want me to forgive him because you’re in the same line of work, and you want me to be forgiving of you if you choose a path that lands you in prison. Well, sorry to tell you but you wouldn’t matter to me. I appreciate you for helping me and all you’re doing but, if you went down.. there wouldn’t be a need to forgive you.” Rio shook his head. “You say that now. But I’m not saying what I’m saying for that. I have a son. Every day I’m out here doing what I do, is another day I’m missing out on being the father he deserves. Disappointing him. Disappearing every year. I barely see my kid. But my son knows that I love him, and if anything g were to happen to him- I would be the one handling shit.” He spoke stern. “You need to forgive your father because god forbid something happens to him in there, you wouldn’t forgive yourself. Your father is a good man. He’s no cold blooded murderer, don’t let the world change your views on him.”
You sighed. “So you have a heart now?”
“I never said I didn’t have one. I took you in, didn’t I?” You shook your head. Rio chuckled lightly, he sat up straight with his feet back on the ground. He looked at you, his hands joined together. “I’ve done some shit in my day. Shit I’m not proud of, things I do regret but at the same time that I don’t regret. I’m a bad man, a bad person.. but, I also have heart. But your dad? He’s a good man, he’s as good as it gets, Y/n.” You nod your head and sighed deeply, moving your braids behind your shoulder. “So, you ready to go to our next destination?” You nod your head.
Your eyes settled full of water. You stood outside your father’s gym that once was covered in crime scene tape and had a big foreclosure sign on the door, was now surrounded with new paint, some cars, and the tape was no longer there. “Rio?” Your voice croaked. He turned his head. “I bought it. It’s in your name now so it’s yours. It won’t ever be taken from you or your father again. I even upgraded a few things.” You were in awe. He was so different from his demeanor or his appearance. He was so sweet. “Let’s get inside and get to the business.” You followed Rio inside, looking around at all he had done with the place.
“It looks so good in here.” You complimented his handy work
Rio nods. “Appreciate it. Why don’t you change into some thing more suitable.” Disappearing into the locker room, you gather everything you needed, you dressed in some shorts and a sports bra. Although it was a little too exposing for your liking, it was all right with you. You pulled your hair up into a high ponytail just as a man came in the room, you jumped. “Knock!” He held his hand up. “My bad, I’m sorry.” He smiled, backing out the room. You smiled slightly because he was kind of cute. You shook yourself out of your thoughts, walking out the room, seeing the guy from earlier. He smiled in your direction as he walks over to you. “Hey, I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t even know that anyone was in there.”
“It’s ok, maybe knock next time.” You grabbed some gloves.
He looked around the gym. “You new here? I’ve never seen you around here before.” You fumbled with your fingers hoping someone would rescue you. “I-uh, I haven’t been here since it reopened,” you looked from your gloves as you nervously place your hands inside and brought your eyes to his perfectly designed abs and pecs, to his face. “Ah, well, I’m-” before he could introduce himself, Rio yells for you as he entered the ring. “Y/n, let’s go! We don’t have all day mama.”
“Oh, you with Rio?” He slightly stepped back.
You nod. “Uh yeah.. he’s a friend.” The guy nodded his head. “Oh okay. Well, I’ll let you get to that and I’ll see you around?” You nod your head starting to walk towards the ring, turning to speak to him one last time but he’d scattered off to the punching bag in the corner. “Distractions will get you hurt in this business.” Rio said to you as he stood at the door. “What business?” He shook his head. “Let’s go.”
“Fine. I’m fighting you?”
He nods his head. “Yep. I wanna see how much of your skills you remember.”
“Okay.” You shrugged. You two started boxing, he swung but you dodged it punching him in the face with a right hook. He shook his head bouncing a little. “Good, good. But that’s just first luck. Don’t be cute. Pretend I’m those people at school that pick on you. Don’t let up on me.”
You squelched. “Oh my! Rio! I’m so sorry.” You held your face as he sat there with a face full of blood, wiping the blood from his lips and nose. He coughed spitting the blood on the mat. “It’s all right. I told you, don’t go easy on me. What you apologizing for?” He laughed like a maniac, you were taken back. You had just almost beat this man face in and he’s laughing like it didn’t phase him. “I just almost beat your face in and you’re laughing?”
“Girl, you gotta do better then this to scare me. You did good. I’m proud of you.”
You raised an eyebrow as he stood to his feet. “Careful. You could have a concussion.” He smiled, looking down at you as you held him up, his ribs bruised from the constant punches and kicks you gave him. “You know, you got skills.” He smiled down at you. “Skills?” He nods. “Yeah, you ever thought of boxing professionally?”
“Mm, no. This is just something I do with my dad. It’s not something I see myself doing full time. It helps me blow off steam.”
He nods wrapping his arm around you. It was only the two of you now, as much as everyone wanted to continue watching Rio, who was never beat in the ring- get his ass beat more, he didn’t allow it. It was just the two of you, tussling and fighting on the mat. You felt alive again. You felt in control again. He sat down on the bench, looking up at you, you sat next to him. “Thank you.”
“For what?” He looked over at you. “All of this.”
He shrugged. “You welcome. You don’t have to thank me for doing what’s right.” You smile, nodding your head. He looked at you, his thumb brushed against the busted lip he gave you and the glowing shiner. “I at least got a good couple punches in.” You laugh. “Yeah but how am I supposed to go to school tomorrow like this?”
“Mm, we will think about that when the time comes.”
———
Taglist: @xsweetdellzx @laylasbunbunny @hinatasfleshlight @skyesthebomb @bbygirlchristina @lovesanimals0000 @briana-mishell24 @wandasbitxh @littlebvbie @90sisthenew80s @tribalqueen20 @panicsinvirgo @star017 @zenxn20 @pearlkitten33 @rosegoldcoco @faatxma @princess96love @sorry-i-spaced @piccasoe @asiludida164 @thesirenrealm
#black writer#black fanfiction#black writers#imagines#black reader#ingeniousmindoftune#manny montana#good girls rio#rio x black!reader#blackwomen#rio x reader#writers on tumblr#rio good girls#rio+good+girl#rio imagine#black representation#jordan torres#jordan torres x reader#black fanfic writer
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MHA 2.22 - Yaoyorozu: Rising - part 1
Happy Easter! Today we celebrate Easter with the rise of Momo!
Froggie makes the bird man go WHOOOOOSH!
It upsets me that the bird king doesn't know how to fly. Sucks.
That's right. Put respect on Tsu's name. She doesn't get phased.
It is good to have focus on how calm and collected Tsu is under pressure in the same episode where we see Momo wavering under the weight of her insecurities. It contrasts the characters.
Girl up-chucked for victory. I am torn between 'yuck' and 'cool use of frog facts'.
I just want to pat Dark Shadow on the head and say, 'good puppy'.
Meanwhile, these two goobers are goobering. Is it weird that I am jealous of the Karate Kid here? I want Iida to give me a piggyback ride.
Momo is STILL hung up on her tournie loss. I feel like there were characters that had far more embarrassing fights, but they did not have their self-esteem evaporate like Momo's.
Kaminari vs. Leaf Pokemon was worse, Sero vs. Todoroki was worse, and Aoyama vs. Ashido ended with someone in their underpants. None of them are letting it hold them down to this extent.
Why did the Spiderman theme just start playing?
Those are some strong electrical wires. Ninja Sensei is risking electrocution just to get the drop on his students, lol.
CALTROPS? I don't know what is funnier, how hardcore Aizawa is going, or Todoroki's 'are you serious?' reaction.
Bless his heart, he looks so confused.
I love Aizawa's teaching style. Toss ninja traps at a student, and then dish out the most helpful critique after. 5/5 on Rate My Professors.
Todoroki took charge when Momo was being indecisive, and didn't really formulate a real plan with her. Momo was letting Todoroki steamroll ahead and not speaking up because of her insecurity.
No Momo, just leave him bobbing in the air like a goddamn Christmas ornament.
I do not want to hurt the feelings of Momo fans. I am not a hater, but I have to be honest that Momo annoyed me in this episode. Girl, get it together.
Click here for the masterlist
Click here for part 2
#mha#bnha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#tsuyu asai#tsuyu#tsu#tokoyami fukimage#tokoyami#tenya iida#iida#ojiro#dark shadow#momo yayorozu#momo#shouto todoroki#todoroki shoto#todoroki#aizawa shouta#aizawa
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