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restlessfandoming · 3 years

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“ice fishing” (pt. 3) (chilumi fic)

[part one] [part two] “Childe invites Lumine to the annual Snezhnayan holiday dedicated to the Tsaritsa. There, she meets his entire family, and all the conflict that comes with them.”

warning: will get mildly suggestive in this part onwards so uhhh yea beware O///w///O

[Fic Masterlist]

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“ice fishing” (pt. 3)

The morning sunlight streamed in through the window, and Lumine cursed herself for not closing the curtains last night.

Last night… She looked to her right, and found Childe sleeping, no clothes in sight. Her face flushed with heat as she recalled everything that happened last night. She shook her head, instead looking at his sleeping face.

He slept absolutely still—no snoring, no twitching; if Lumine hadn’t been paying attention to the rise and fall of his chest, she would’ve thought he was dead.

In the light of day, Lumine could see his body was covered with scars: some tiny scratches, others long, painful lines. The largest scar was to the right of his sternum, inches from his heart. Her hand lightly traced it, and Childe’s eyelids fluttered open. His eyes landed on her, and a glowing smile spread across his face.

“Well, good morning,” he said breathlessly. He took her hand that was on his chest into his own.

Lumine intertwined their fingers. “I’ve never seen your scars before.”

“Of course not, unless you want me to start stripping in the middle of our battles.” He winked.

Lumine grabbed a pillow from under her and shoved it in his face. He laughed, yanking the pillow off his face.

He turned to her, fingers ghosting over her bare shoulder. “And you...you don’t have a single scratch on you.”

“Mm, that’s because I’m not from this world,” she whispered, half-joking.

She hadn’t told him about her origins. Only that her brother was missing and she was searching for him. Maybe it’s time I told him…

“Anybody could see that,” he mumbled sweetly against her skin where his lips were pressed on her shoulder. He planted kisses up until he reached the crook of her neck, where Lumine felt him bite down lightly.

“Ah!” she gasped, arching her back, to which Childe immediately pulled her closer, hands gripping her waist. He lifted his head, eyes meeting hers—blue eyes burning with desire. Lumine felt herself heat up. He leaned forward to kiss her, when there was pounding on their door.

“Ajax. Will you be cooking breakfast this morning?” Misha’s voice asked, muffled.

He let out a frustrated laugh. “Yes, Misha. I’ll be down there soon,” he called back. After Misha’s footsteps receded, he rested his forehead on hers. “I’d better go before the whole house starves.”

Lumine nodded, her own hunger taking over her mind. “You’d better hurry; remember we skipped dinner last night?”

“Oh yes, I remember very clearly,” he said, smirking. Lumine playfully shoved him. He chuckled. “C’mon, I know you’re starving.”

The two got dressed and headed downstairs towards the kitchen. Upon entering the dining room, they found Misha and Alexei sitting at the table. Both the older siblings were drinking cups of steaming tea—Misha not looking towards the couple, while Alexei eyed them over the rim of his cup.

“Your dinners are cold,” the oldest brother said, his voice sing-song. “Went off for another sparring match, you two?”

“How obscene,” Misha muttered, taking a sip. “The little ones were asking about you two all night. Perhaps think how your actions will be viewed by the children.”

The little ones you abandoned? Lumine wanted to ask.

Childe put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll make sure to tell them something, Misha.” With that, he hurried Lumine into the kitchen.

“Why do you put up with that? I would’ve taken you for the type to get rid of them,” Lumine asked.

“The little ones already have enough going on with theirs with...Mom’s condition,” he said as he started prepping the kitchen. “A fight between their older siblings would surely mean they’d lose their idea of family love forever.”

“It seems like Alexei and Misha are ruining that already…”

Childe sighed. “If I could knock some sense into them, believe me, I would. But there are consequences for doing so.” He looked out the kitchen window. “The family has already been through a lot.”

If there was one apparent weakness of Childe’s was the fact that he would protect his family no matter what, even if it meant acting irrationally, putting up facades and lies. Even if it meant he was hurting himself in the end. And it hurt Lumine to see.

Lumine helped him prepare breakfast until there were plates of steaming pancakes ready for the family to eat.

“Ah, beat me to it,” Feliks said walking into the kitchen. “Ajax, you don’t need to always prepare food for us.”

Childe shrugged. “I don’t mind. The kids like it anyways.”

“And it saves the kitchen from being burned down by Misha.” Feliks laughed. He grabbed two plates, heading back out of the room. “I’ll bring this to Galina.”

Lumine started heading out as well. “I’ll go wake the kids up.” She held a hand up as Childe started to get up. “You’ve already done a lot this morning.”

Walking past the dining room, Alexei and Misha were gone from the table. Good, I don’t have to talk to them, thankfully.

She went to Anthon’s room first. He got up quickly, and she left as he started getting ready. A good, responsible kid. Lumine thought fondly. Next, she went to Tonia’s room. Upon waking, the little girl demanded a hug, to which the traveler obliged warmly. She also helped Tonia pick out her clothes for the day before heading to Teucer’s room. Teucer took the longest to get up, but Lumine was patient with him. Like Tonia, he wanted a morning hug, which Lumine gladly gave. Soon, she successfully gathered all three of the children, sending them to the dining room where their breakfast awaited. She smiled to herself listening to them cheerfully rushing down the stairs.

“How motherly of you.”

Lumine felt the vein pop out on her forehead. “What do you want, Alexei?” She turned, surprised to find him closer to her than anticipated.

“You are so very hostile towards me, dear Lumine.” His face had his trademark unsettling grin. “Why is that?”

“And you? What’s your problem?” She crossed her arms. “I don’t generally like people who are as disconcerting as you.”

He laughed darkly. “Me? Disconcerting? You say that as if you’re not involved with a Harbinger. A member of the Fatui.”

“Do I hear resentment? Are they not under the command of your ruler, the Tsaritsa herself? Something a Snezhnayan should be proud of?”

His smile dropped, mouth pursed. “Perhaps.”

Oh. OH. Lumine almost smiled at him. “You’re envious of your brother.”

His eyes flashed, and from under his coat, he yanked out a dagger. Lumine quickly materialized her sword, easily countering his attack. Alexei sneered at her, digging his dagger against her blade. “Not envious. At a loss.” His voice was becoming slightly frantic. “How does someone like Ajax become a Harbinger? When I—”

Lumine threw her might upwards, sending Alexei’s blade flying down the hallway. She held the tip of her sword at his throat. “Sounds an awful lot like envy to me.”

The corner of Alexei’s mouth twitched, as if he were holding back a snarl. Then, he let out a laugh. Unstable. “How powerful. No wonder my brother has taken an interest in you.” He leaned closer, the tip of Lumine’s blade now brushing his skin. “I may have to take an interest in you myself.”

He reached for a strand of her hair, but she turned her blade from his throat to his hand. “Absolutely not,” she said. “You abandoned your family when they needed you. I have no interest in you, not even a little bit.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “So why are you even here, Alexei? You obviously don’t care for your family.”

“So smart! Even the old man hasn’t figured it out! Though admittedly, his mind isn’t as sharp as it used to be,” he said, taking a step back to grab his dagger again. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, unless you get in my way, dear.” He brought his dagger up to her blade, running the two edges together. “Or you can join me.”

“And what is it that do you plan on doing?”

His eyes glinted. “Taking everything that’s rightfully mine.”

Lumine raised her blade again. “If you hurt anyone in this family, I won’t hesitate.”

“Lumine?” Childe asked behind her, coming up the stairs. “...Alexei?”

Both sheathed their weapons, and Alexei smiled. “She’s a keeper, Ajax! Don’t let her go now,” he said, putting a hand on Childe’s shoulder as he passed him heading down the stairs.

Childe and Lumine watched until Alexei’s figure disappeared into the dining room before turning to each other.

“Care to explain what happened?” the Harbinger asked.

“I think we need to stop Alexei. Get him away from here before something bad happens.” Lumine frowned. “He mentioned he has a plan of some sort. ‘To take what’s rightfully his,’ he said.”

Childe’s eyes narrowed. “Of course. There’s no way he was here to just celebrate Lyublyu.”

“Do you think Misha’s in on it too?”

“There’s no telling with her. Sometimes she and Alexei are at odds, other times, they can get along. Especially when it comes to their ideas about weakness.” He sighed, then came up to Lumine, embracing her. He asked, “Alexei didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Lumine hugged him back and scoffed. “Of course not. I can handle myself.”

Childe laughed. “Yes, yes, I know, how could I forget?” He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “The kids want to go into town today; there should be some festivities in the town square.”

“You aren’t worried about Alexei’s plans?”

“Of course I am. But the kids come first.”

Lumine nodded. “Then we’ll go.” She felt her stomach rumble. “After breakfast.”

“Yes, I saved you the biggest plate.”

“I knew I liked you for a reason.”

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[part 4]

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #childe #lumine #tartaglia #childe x lumine #lumine x childe #chilumi #childe x traveler #lumichilde #fanfic #me

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yconic · 4 years

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Guess who was bored and decided to make a Stonytasha pirate AU sjsj

Alright so!! What I had in mind: Th name of infamous pirate captain Tony Stark , stretched across all land for being the skilled and more than ruthless bandit that Steve Rogers, son of a navy/military general, finds himself to be too infatuated with.

Like, proper and posh Steve, with just a whisk of innocence and fragility falling for charming and flirty sea bandit that is Tony , who stops mid battle with his dad's crew to kiss his cheek while evading getting hurt?? Cuteness, I have no self control sksksk

When Black Sabbath ambushes the town of Brooks, Joseph Rogers is crimson to the hairline at being caught so unprepared. Due to celebrating his son's birthday the day prior.

Half his force stood ditzy on their feet, still so drowned into the debauchery they failed to realize the pirate ship they were supposed to guard was floating carelessly at the docks has been there for two hours.

In their surprise, Tony and his crew aren't spreading chaos or destruction. They carry the calmness of a silent storm, not thunder but raindrops as they collect what they can carry. From bare necessities such as food to a random jewelry that caught their eye.

Steve knows retaliation wouldn't result in a victory. At least 10 men against one aren't odds that favour him. Not only is he outnumbered, but he is also undertrained. Despite being a soldier in name, his father had been adamant about actually introducing him to the practice. Steve is tore between being grateful or regretful about his incliation to arts now.

They're not hurting anyone. That's what confuses him.

He would love to paint the Captain, however. Even a quick sketch would have sufficed, even if it wouldn't do justice to the undeniable beauty in front of him. Tony was a rarity he couldn't pry his eyes off of. Hair dark and soft looking curling at the nape of his neck, Skin kissed by sun, complimenting the gold beam smile that's too enchanting for it's own good.

The pools of brown lock with him for a moment, but it was enough to make his legs buckle slightly. Those were the Deadeyes, he told himself, that put fright in monsters and men alike. Except the cruelty, coldness, and blankness from the tales he's heard was missing. Tony was alive, and he was laughing.

The smile grew bigger as he advanced in his direction, dropping the sack of goods he's been carrying not even a moment ago. Steve made the effort of keeping his eyes past the pirate's shoulder instead of the sight of his bare chest, provided by the low cut red blouse.

Steve felt his face burning, which only seemed to amuse the Captain further if the chuckle sending shivers down his spine was any clue worth following.

"You're Rogers blood, " Tony commented easily, tone full of glee. Even if he was taller between them, Steve never felt so small. His form turned to wood when calloused fingers rested on his jawline, touch gentle.

Almost too loving for what they probably done. Steve wanted to melt into it. "Pretty fella, aren't you, sweetling?"

Steve's dry throat was, at once, workable again. "And you, the pirate sacking my town, " he responded, voice silkier than he intended. The darkness of Tony's eyes intensified with just a shade, but it was enough to make him swallow a whine. "You'd have better luck in Quinz. From what I hear they've been recently restocked. Why us?"

A rich laugh boomed from Tony. "Darling, " he started, grin crooked and voice dripping in honey. "You don't KNOW what a sacking done by me looks like." Steve was positive he never wanted to find out.

Silence washed over them for a moment before the pirate spoke again.

"We're just taking what we need, not want. We're housing a few extra guests and we regrettably ran out of food, which is terribly embarrassing for me. I've been told I hold the title of the best host over all 50 seas. My people shouldn't expect less than the best, as I'm sure you understand."

"If you wish, we can also provide you with an appron, " Steve said, waiting for the thin ice to crack. Tony's lips quirked upwards and somehow the nobleborn knew he won't sink just yet. The blonde's hand extended in invitation. "I'm not certain what the manner pirates use to introduce themselves, but here we shake hands. I am Steve Rogers."

"It may shock you, but some of us swap spit. I suppose however, since we're on your land I'll comply to your rules, " a wink and a tongue leaking with sarcasm, accompanied with a firm handshake enough to make Steve's skin raise upwards. "You know who I am."

Steve nodded. "Deadeyes. Parents and eldery tell the children about you."

"Jesus, " Tony swore. "I'm not sure if I should be proud of by my everlasting popularity or offended that so many consider me an ancient ghost ship. Why parents think I'm an appropriate subject for discussion escapes me."

"They do it so the children won't grow up like you."

"Grow up? Oh no darling I'm afraid I only grew old, " Tony chuckled, eyes dancing on the blonde's body, making Steve feel warm. "But only in certain fields."

"You could have tried to buy something if you were in need. Like all people do."

"I would love to, but not only are my pockets in great mourning, I must say your system makes it very difficult for people like me to make ends meet."

"The criminals?"

"The poors."

Before either men could say more, a fire was shot in the open. Tony reacted in a blink move, pushing the blonde to the ground with a shocking force. He heard someone shout Tony's name, but the ringing in his sensitive ears dafted all sound trying to stab in.

"Stay down until the fire dims, then find shelter!" The pirate's order came in form of a yell, but to Steve's ears it was more of a soft instruction. He could spot familiar boots with the glittering royal emblem shining blindly through the dust blinding his vision

The force is chasing the crew, more drunk than awake, shooting at whatever they can aim. The blonde's heart slammed against his ribcage, adrenaline and fear for his people coursing through his blood at an alarming speed as the men flooded the market place.

Steve was quick on his feet, body becoming it's own host as he helped the two men, -- whom by the looks of it were apart of Tony's crew, -- lead the people to the town's church where they would be safest. The tail of his eye spied a flash of red darting above them on the roofs, but before he had the chance of getting a better look, he was knocked aside by the crowd.

The gates were locked shut.

Steve resigned behind the closest beer barrels, placing his hand on the pistol harness tucked safetly on his hip, ignoring the slight tremble of his digits. He leaned over to peek through the tangle of soldiers and bandits huddled up together like fight dogs in a ring, at the violent scenery Tony painted with a mindnumbing grace.

The footing was almost too hard to follow with the bare eyes. The pirate seemed to barely touch the ground, blade cutting through the air with a force that temporality privated Steve from air. He was accustomed to battle, twin swords in each hand seeming at home and comfortable.

He trapped the wrist of one soldier between the edges of his weapon, head moving just in time before the bullet shot could crave his skull. The military man received a kick in the gut, sending him straight to the floor.

Tony was swift on his toes, predicting the sloppy moves of his adversaries and dodging them with ease, smirk sharp and lethal as the men around him hit the ground like rain. By gun shot, he realized, put to the ground by a shower of lead. His eyes hunted every direction in hope of finding the gunslinger but with no such luck.

The soldiers groaned from their spot on the ground, each holding onto their bleeding legs. Most of the damage was done to either their hands or inferior limbs area. The coin dropped. Whoever it was, their objective was not to dig graves, but a weeksworth of bed rest, if that. The symphony of battle got quieter and quieter for Steve, who failed to register Tony making his way to him.

"Love, we have to stop meeting like this, for the sake of your heart. " He thought he heard. Steve couldn't make out the words properly, sentences becoming incoherent .

Everything became white noise and unclear, blurry dark silhouettes. The nerves in his body all numbed, lost of feeling until a rough hand curled around the nape of his neck. The firm but tender touch provided him some much-needed grounding.

His senses awakened again, his being coming back slowly. His mind was sober enough to hear the pleasant graveness of Tony's voice whispering sweetly against his ear as he raised him from the soil that tainted the fine cloth.

"It's over now, " he soothed as a child does a spooked animal, thumb rubbing circles into the sweat coated skin. Tony did not hesitate to brush his lips across. "Please, sweetling, return to me, will you? You were brave, doing exactly as I told you. I have you. You're safe now."

"I was a coward, " he retorted, mouth bitter and eyes burning. "I HID from battle, from the danger, while my people were attacked. What kind of soldier does that?"

"So what? Better a dead hero than a living man?" Tony asked sternly. "Your people are safe, are they not? You lead them to the church, Steve. You protected them, and--" the cock of a pistol made them both pause.

A tiny gasp slipped past Steve's lisp as the soldier who they both missed sneaked behind them, firearm aimed at Tony's back. The smaller man planted between him and the attacker, not letting him be exposed to danger.

"You don't want to do this. Trust me." Tony warned mildly. "I am trying to give you a way out, you'd be smart to take it." The soldier was stilled, and the gun wasn't lowered. His finger caressed the trigger.

"I see, " strangely, he could hear a hint of smile in Tony's voice. "So. Is this the end of me?"

Steve's eyes were clamped tight, fingers clenched around the thin material of Tony's dress shirt as the bang of fire lingered in the air. After a passing minute, he felt something fast and hot shredding the oxygen right beside his left ear.

When the black faded away, Steve was not expecting to see Tony still standing, and the soldier shot down clutching at his injured soldier. The shot hasn't came from him, but from behind him. Whipping around, Steve paused in mild shock. A small woman, not tall enough to reach his shoulder without raising on her tips, had her slandered arm extended and wileding a pistol.

Her looks was deceivingly innocent, features soft yet sculpted pleasantly resting in a mask of winter were captivating. Her hair was red and her most eye catching asset, warm auburn and planted in a bun, reminding Steve of autum leaves painted in rusty undertoned he loved to collect when the season was of middle.

Fierce green eyes melted as they landed on Tony, the stone in them cracked. A glimpse of adoration washed over them, clearly exposing the nature of their connection. Steve felt his heart clench.

For some reason, her voice decreased some of the burn his chest scorched with. "Not today, Captain."

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angstalottle · 5 years

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Soul Full

Part 1:

The thing about Keith is that he needs a very particular type of person to work with, a kind of person that can put up with his impulsive bull shit and self-sacrificing attitude 24/7.

From day one it was clear that Keith had the potential to be the most powerful Myster ever seen, it was also clear that no sane weapon would stick with him more than a week.

Hell, even the legendary Excalibur gave up on him and demanded to be returned to his stone rather than remain with him.

By his second year, Keith had been rejected by pretty much every weapon in the school, it didn't matter if he could fight with any close combat weapon. No one wanted to deal with his attitude.

Perhaps that was why when he was sat in the dorm reading one day he was so surprised when someone plopped down in the seat next to him.

“I heard you don't have a weapon.”

Keith shrugged not taking his eyes off the page, now and again someone would try and make him the butt of a joke and more often than not would walk away sporting a black eye.

“Yeah. And what of it?” Keith rolled his eyes preparing himself for whatever kind of prank this was.

“Well then mullet this is your lucky day because I just happen to be without a mystery”

That did make Keith look up in surprise. No weapon had ever come up to him before to form a partnership. He had to always be the one to awkwardly approach someone in class with the idea.

He was even more surprised by the dazzling blue eyes that he was met with.

They didn't seem to hold even the slightest bit of malice or resentment towards him. In fact, they were the loveliest things Keith had ever seen.

“W-what?” Keith asked not sure he heard right.

“Your Keith right? I heard you're crazy strong and if anyone can make me a death scythe it's going to be you.” He held out his hand and Keith stared at it for a solid minute “the names Lance and I have a feeling we’re gonna make a great team.”

Keith couldn't help but snort “let me guess you turn into a lance?”

Lance pouted “no Mr funny guy, I got named before I got my weapon form im a trident actually, a pretty cool one if I do say so myself.”

“Look I don't know what you heard about me but I don't do the whole team thing. I don't play well with others.” Keith stared at the still outstretched hand. He had an urge to take it, to accept this offer and finally have a chance. But… well, he's been hurt before.

It was just easier to pretend your not interested then have your spirit broken over and over again.

“Neither do i. So the way I see it if no one wants to be with us then why not team up.” Lance grinned.

Keith sat there in silence before a laugh burst its way past his lips “ok...you're clearly crazy. What the hell kind of logic is that?”

“Genius logic if you ask me.” Lance leaned forwards ever so slightly “I'm not hearing a no.”

Keith groaned “ok since I have a feeling no won't get you to shut up and get you to leave me alone how about this. We see how we fight together and if you're even half decent I'll consider it.”

Keith took Lance’s hand and firmly shook it slightly surprised by the cool touch of the other boy. He seemed so warm yet his hand was ice cold.

“You won't regret this mullet.

“I already am.”

One of the benefits of going to a combat oriented school is the state of the art sports facilities that had enough training scenarios available at all hours of the day to provide a challenge to someone even like Keith that practically lived in the gym.

The two had raced over with Lance’s long legs allowing him to win by barely a second much to Keith’s annoyance.

He was bragging about it even as they entered a training room and started up a simulation.

“You barely won.”

“A victory is still a victory my dude. I take what I can get.” Lance smirked even as Keith held out his hand and he vanished in a flash of light and reappeared as a trident.

Keith wasn't really sure what he was expecting.

It certainly wasn't a beautifully ornate light blue trident with a large blue gem implanted in the centre. Keith could see Lance looking at him smugly from within the gem so it was easy to guess he looked as stunned as he felt.

“Not bad right?” Lance’s voice echoed within Keith's head.

Keith rolled his eyes “let's hope your not all flash and no bang. A pretty weapon isn't much good in a fight if it's not efficient”

“I'll have you know I'm a great weapon!” Lance huffed “on your left!”

Keith spun around just in time to see a faceless enemy swinging an axe at him. Acting on pure instinct he held Lance up to block the blow stopping the blade only inches away from his face.

Keith struggled under the weight for a moment. He was an agility fighter. He couldn't brute strength his way through a fight. He had to be smart about this.

He suddenly dove forwards skidding the staff against the blade until Keith was out of its path and it hit the floor with an echoing bang.

“Nice!” Lance cheered and Keith couldn't help the grin that pulled at the edge of his lips. It had been a while since he had a cheerleader.

While the enemy was off balance Keith spun Lance round to try and ram to the blades into the back. Unfortunately soon as he got close the axe was swinging back at him so fast that all he could do was jump back to avoid getting his head sliced off.

“Fast fucker huh?” Lance quipped.

“Shut up!” Keith hissed as he dodged the numerous attacks “I'm trying to concentrate”.

The enemy was so fast that it was taking all Keith had on just defence leaving him no room to attack.

“Point me at the floor and be ready to move,” Lance said suddenly pulling Keith’s attention away from the fight long enough for a kick to send Keith flying into the opposite wall.

“The floor?” he grunted.

“Just trust me mullet.”

Considering the enemy was closing in and Keith saw no other option he held lance firmly with both hands and pointed at the floor just by its feet.

Some weapons can transform for Keith hoped that maybe Lance would suddenly become a bazooka or something. However never in his wildest dreams would Keith have imagined what happened next.

A beam of white light burst from each trident point and twisted together until they were one powerful beam that hit the floor pinning Keith against the wall from the force.

Keith could only watch as ice began to rapidly grow out from beneath the enemies feet and shoot out in razor sharp spiked through its body.

It stood their trapped and struggling when the light faded away and Keith jumped to his feet to go in for a kill.

With a run and a jump, Keith was able to drink Lance right down through its head causing it to explode in a cloud of black particles around them.

Keith didn't even realise he was smiling until he caught sight of himself in the ice.

Panting he stood there staring in Lance in his hand as he returned to human form.

“Jeez man, you can really fight that was incredible!” Lance grinned at him and Keith couldn't believe it.

“Your kidding right? I would have been toast without your attack! Why the hell didn't you tell me you could use ice attacks? I didn't think anyone but the Altean family could even do that.” Keith ranted excitedly. He didn't even notice how when he mentioned the Alteans Lance’s confident demeanour dropped to a much more sheepish one.

“Yeah about them… I'm kinda one of them.” Lance muttered softly.

Keith watched his sudden shift in confusion “but if your part of that family why the hell have you got a partner yet?”

As if on cue Lance’s nose began to bleed and the legendary Weapon Allura herself came storming through the doors.

“Lance! What are you doing here?!” She yelled grabbing him by the arm and stuffing a handkerchief into his hand to stem the blood flow.

“I told you I was going to find a mystery today. You can't keep me from becoming a death scythe.”

Keith watched on awkwardly as she glared at Lance before turning her harsh look on him “and this is who you have chosen? Who even are you?”

Before Keith could answer Lance beat him to it “he's Keith Kogane. Shiro’s little brother, you know Shiro, I mean he's only your fucking myster.”

Allura snapped her mouth shut like she suddenly thought better of whatever comment she had.

It took her a few moments of deep breaths before she continued “even if he is as good a mystery as his brother that doesn't change the fact that this is too dangerous for you.”

Lance pulled away so he stood next to Keith. “Just because your my big sister doesn't mean you get to decide my life for me.”

“No, but it does mean I know you're not strong enough.”

Keith suddenly stepping in front of Lance. “Who are you to say he isn't strong enough? Did you miss how he used that ice? I have no doubt in my mind he could be an even more powerful death scythe then you.”

Allura feed him with a cold look “Lance you can't do this, father would never allow you to-”

“Father doesn't give a shit about what I do as long as I don't embarrass him or you. Maybe I get a bloody nose when I use my ice but that doesn't mean I'm a weak little kid anymore and you can't treat me like I'm delicate.” Lance placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder and gave him a soft smile “I've found my myster… if he will have me?”

Keith nodded “after this, I couldn't imagine ever fighting with another weapon.”

The two smiled at each other for a long time before Allura let out a long sigh.

“Fine but… Lance, please be careful your mother she-”

One look from Lance quieted her and instead, she turned to leave “Look after him, Keith… he may seem powerful but he needs protecting.”

“That's what being a team is, looking out for each other.”

Allura nodded before she slipped out of the room leaving a tense silence in her wake.

A silence that was broken the second Keith and Lance made eye contact and burst out laughing.

“Holy shit. I can't believe you're stood up to my sister!” Lance grabbed Keith by the shoulders excitedly and Keith found himself with the sudden urge to kiss the other boy.

“Well can't have someone bad mouthing my weapon like that.” Keith mumbled as he pulled away and offered his hand “partners?”

“Partners” Lance shook his hand and for a moment everything was perfect.

The two quickly became the most powerful team in schools history collecting souls faster than anyone else.

After a year they had 96 souls and were happily living together.

What Keith didn't realise though with every new soul collect and every battle won Lance was getting closer and closer to death.

#langst #klance #keith #lance #soul eater au

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cyanciela · 5 years

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Royal Au- kl

Something I scrapped, so take what I have ^^

There was no place, on any land traveled by the foot of man that could ever do justice to the charm that his kingdom possessed; although some would like to believe that it was possible to get close. He’d heard the tales, from those within the castle walls, all different in their weirdly specific direction.

If you were smart, you’d know to go during the darkest hour, one says, and if you were lucky, and the moon is out, you are able to see all the way until the ocean, out past her great expanse until the horizon. You’d see the moonlit ocean kiss the shores of home, but only with patience you’ll hear the gentle singing of their union.

It’s all very romantic, and so, Lance becomes preserving, if not precise, in planning his trips there. It wasn't exactly easy tricking several trained professionals, of which it was their job to watch him, into all believing he was somewhere he wasn't. Two outside his door, another two in the gardens below his window, even more in varying locations, none of which are ever the same. Consequently, not easy.

But not impossible.

The idea is to familiarize himself as much as he can with every single detail that does not change. The guards may change, the positions may change, but the times in which they switch out do not, this was important.

Really, they were hardly necessary, the palace gardens were not even the real world. The plants may be, and it was technically an open space, without a roof, but it never felt like going anywhere. Going into the city was nice occasionally, there was certainly enough to do, but yet again, he felt like he was watching from the outside in, except this time being watched not only by the royal guard but the regular citizen.

He wishes he could say there was even a memory of normalcy to miss, but his entire life has been based off of his identity, and that wasn't changing anytime soon.

Being able to find a way to step outside that identity, even if it was for a night, was something to cherish. This meant that being absolute in no one founding out, was a part of the deal. If they did, the flaw in security would certainly be fixed, and his taste of freedom would be over before it began.

He’s successful in working his way out of his room, because of course he is, he’s successful in working his way over the walls, past the ever present guards, all the way. He makes his way to his horse, finds a way to the forest, and finds the damned spot that everyone in the royal court can't seem to silence themselves about.

If he were being honest, his expectation for whatever romantic fantasy the people of Altea had managed to plant inside his head was not the reason he even decided to take such a risk and venture out. All he wanted was the security of knowing he’d been able to do it. Although, the view still takes his breath away.

He feels himself longing for a life of this, absolute freedom and what feels like reckless abandon. He holds the feeling tightly, just for a second, for a moment, he grips it possessively and pulls it to the pounding he hears inside his chest-- and lets it go.

He may not even be of age yet, still several years off (not even the first in line)-- but he understands why he's not allowed to be where he stands, and as much as he would love to metaphorically or literally run away to stand at the edge of a cliff, he is a prince. He loves his kingdom, feels a devotion and unending loyalty to the people who gawk when he enters towns, and knows that beneath the face of a boy, is the weight of responsibility.

That responsibility however, does not stop him from coming back. He takes the same amount of precautions the tenth time as the first, and no-one is the wiser for it. He knows he isn't being followed, and he knows he is alone. There wasn't exactly a high visitation amount in the dead of night.

Understandably, seeing someone-- a very strange, unknown someone-- at his spot, may have startled him. Somewhat.

Being held at knife point by a very strange, unknown someone (at his spot), may have absolutely scared the life out of him.

He’d arrived as he would any other night. Quietly and ensured that he was alone, or at least, was alone, he’d hoped off Blue, and he’d made his way up what was becoming a path. There was no sound, and certainly no warning of someone who must’ve been watching him.

There is a brief, hair-raising, moment of absolute terror that takes over his body, where even the instincts that years of training have given him aren't enough to defend himself. It was then that he becomes paralyzed and unable to think, absolutely anything, as to how this had happened or how to make it stop happening. He can’t even scream, not that it would make a difference, because whoever is holding a knife to his throat, has managed to have also secured a hold over his mouth.

He can still see, so maybe he’ll get to see the face of whoever is about to either hurt or kill him, and he’ll be able to feel angry at someone other than himself for his own death.

He feels his stomach bottom out in fear, not for the first time tonight, when his attacker’s face nears his own from behind, neither hand moving in position or firmness.

“I am going to give you a chance to tell me who you are and how you've found me. If you cooperate and answer correctly, maybe I will spare your life.”

The voice of his attacker is surprisingly high, not feminine, nor one of a child, obviously, but not precisely adult either. If Lance had to guess, whoever he was, wasn't much older than himself. He’s not sure if the flush that takes over his face is from embarrassment or rage. His attention is quickly diverted through, when he feels the blades sharp edge dig ever so delicately into his flesh.

“I’m going to release the hand on your mouth. You try and escape, I kill you. Understand?”

Lance breathes harshly out of his nose, shutting his eyes once again to nod. A moment passes and the hand begins to loosen until it moves away.

“How did you find me?” The words are out before he even has to think about them, the sound of his voice conveying just how terrified he felt.

“I didn't.” The reply is short as it is surprising. Attacker sounds incredulous, but Lance doesn't give him the chance to elaborate further, if he had even planned to.

“They’ll have you killed. They will find you, surely you'll be executed for crimes against Altea.”

Attacker wastes no time in changing their position, where they were once both facing the same direction, the know stand facing each other, and Lance needs a moment to adjust for the whiplash.

“Who on Earth do you believe to be? You’ll be lucky if you aren't ki-” The stranger stops, his hold on Lance and the knife against his throat loosen.

Lance wishes he could read the others expression and figure out why, but the lighting is near none, coupled with the fact Attacker has some kind of covering around the bottom half of his face.

“Who are you?” He asks suddenly, and unlike everything else he’s said, it comes out surprisingly soft, almost scared.

“My- My name is Lance, Prince of Altea.”

Silence. Attacker seems to have fallen into a state of shock, and Lance sieges the opportunity to grab hold of the arm that is holding the knife to his throat. He’s released, and wastes no time in stepping away, mindful of the drop off behind him.

“Wait-” The man--boy, really--seems to have gathered his wits, and lowers his weapon; Lance eyes it warily.

“Are you- do you have evidence? How would the prince, if you are even-?”

Lance pushes the cloak he has round the front of his body away, showing off the clothing he was wearing. It was indeed royal fabrics, royal colors, and if that wasn't enough evidence, he had his necklace on him. The necklace only someone like he could have; it gleams dully in the moonlight.

Lance watches in apprehension-turned-shock as the other looks down, very suddenly falling to one knee, he’s... “My sincerest apologies, your royal highness.”

“I mean you no harm- I thought you were following me or- please forgive me, I take full responsibility for my actions.” Attacker, or Former Attacker seems to be shaking with nerves, and Lance uses the moment to size the other up, now that he isn't paralyzed with fear, or, being threatened with a knife.

He looks somewhat small in stature, he thinks irritably, but there is something about his attire that rings a bell.

“I-I suppose we could speak, as long as you promise not to hold me hostage again.”

The other remains in place, shaking his head as he continues to look down, “I cannot express my embarrassment-”

Lance cuts him off, suddenly very tired and annoyed, “Perhaps you should introduce yourself, since you are--well, it is only fair, at this point..”

The other peaks up from where his eyes are rooted to the ground, it lasts a second, before he looks away, “Sir Kogane, of Daibazaal.”

Lance feels the turning of gears in his head, “Daibazaal… I have heard of you, you're-” His eyes widen, “You are a part of the Galran nobility, a duke.”

It begins to make sense, why Keith would assume someone was following him, why he’s so-- deadly, even more so than Lance, why he recognized those garments. What doesn't make sense is why he's still-

“Duke, it is an insult to me that you kneel so. You rank higher than I, please, stand up.” Lance begins to plead, feeling increasingly more flustered. What was a member of the Galran nobility doing on Altean soil? At this hour?

Finally, Keith stands, wasting no time in removing the mask around his mouth, “Forgive me.”

“Why are you dressed like that?” Lance belts. The disgust in his voice barely disguised, he almost slaps a hand over his own mouth.

Keith luckily takes it in stride, dusting himself off, “This is typical for a royal guard, especially for those in training Sir.”

Lance doesn't know much about Galran tradition, but surely they could do with better attire.

“And why are you here? I haven't heard of any scheduled visits for at least a few more weeks.” he questions.

“I’m not here on visitation, I’m here as a part of my training. I was meant to arrive at dawn.”

Lance hums in response, staring off for a moment. His plans were ruined for the night, but a minute ago he was preparing to die, perhaps it wasn't all bad.

He takes another moment to admire the view before turning back towards the duke, “Hmm, It is unfortunate we had to meet this way. I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you for finding me here.”

Keith glances towards him, and Lance takes a moment to admire the raw emotion his eyes seemed to expression, they were so-- captivating.

“It is but a joke, Sir. Forgive me.” Lance fights back his laughter upon seeing the duke’s distressed expression.

He sighs loudly, sulking and still very tired. He normally gets to stay for at least an hour or two, but he wasn’t in the mood, after that. “Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed being threatened, I should get going.”

To his surprise, Keith stops him, calling out, “Wait! If you would not mind me asking-- why are you here?” He asks tentatively, now the one looking out to the horizon, the: you certainly are not allowed to be, is implied.

“I wanted to meet a mysterious stranger. I didn't anticipate the charm.” Lance remarks casually, surprised again upon seeing the duke’s bashful expression.

Keith composes himself, standing tall, “You shouldn't be out here alone.You could've gotten hurt.”

Lance huffs, “Three’s a crowd. Haven't you enjoyed the privacy I’ve so graciously given us?”

The dukes dark eyes gleam in the low light, but his face remains unchanged, “Perhaps one day you’ll employ someone as skilled as I. You certainly wouldn’t be able to sneak past me.”

Lance looks down from where he’s begun to mount Blue, matching the others smile, “If only I were to be so lucky. Safe travels Sir.”

Keith watches as he turns, quickly disappearing behind a mass of trees. He wonders if all Alteans were so brazen. Shaking it off, he sits by the cliff’s edge; Shiro should be catching up with him any minute now.

Not sure if I wanna upload to Ao3 but?? hope u liked the little bit i wrote.

#klance #keith #lance #voltron #my writing #royal au #knight au #kick #keith kogane #lance mcclain #vld

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

Text

Insatiable

Commission for someone anonymous involving Friends With Benefits Caustic/Bloodhound with absolutely no romance between them. Just a lot of horny. It also hints at Caustane and Miragehound as actual romantic pairs since you know I can’t do anything without a bit of romance in it.

Reblogs > Likes. It cost zero dollars to Reblog the fics you like :D

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: FWB Caustic/Bloodhound (Hinted at Caustane and Miragehound)

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Bloodhound has a vulva, Knifeplay, biting, bruising, rough play, d/s undertones, dom Bloodhound, PWP, Bathroom sex so kinda public but, Friends with benefits

Words: 4.4k

_______________________

Bloodhound was an enigma and a mystery that anyone would be interested to solve. Caustic was no exception from this interest. What he never would have expected, however, was the relationship he developed with the hunter.

It turns out that ‘The Hunter the Gods Have Sent’ was touch starved, not to mention sexually pent up. It took a bit of prodding, but he’d finally hit that little switch on them. It had happened outside of the rings in the legends’ compound, when Alexander had prodded with a “Or are you perhaps sexually frustrated and that is why you are so aggressive?”, loudly announcing his curiosity. And they had, in their embarrassment, slammed him to the wall. Their petite frame against his and low snarls behind their helmet.

There was underlying tension throughout anything they did with Alexander around. It hadn’t taken long to convince them. No strings attached, no romance, just two legends working out frustrations. Or rather, Bloodhound working out their frustration, and Alexander offering- gleefully- to be their personal little fuck toy. Bloodhound had scoffed at him at first, claimed they didn’t need him nor anyone to be their pet.

Yet, the more they had thought on it, it certainly did benefit them both, didn’t it?

~Rest under the cut~

Romance was something Alexander wouldn’t consider with Bloodhound. No, they were far too skittish and preferred to not get into anything too deep. Often times he’d be on his knees, looking up to them with adoration and submission in his eyes and that’s all that they needed. He couldn’t say that he disagreed with the terms, considering he was purely delighted for someone to have the reigns on him, so to speak.

Bloodhound was unique in many ways. And one big one being how they liked to surprise him at every turn.

An example of this is today, both of them are in the arena and working on this season’s killings. They’re on opposite teams, but Caustic knows very well that he’s being watched. He can feel the prickling up the back of his neck of a predator’s gaze watching his every move. His own squad mates had been Octane and Bangalore, moving ahead while he lingered behind for loot and stragglers. Bloodhound’s team had consisted of Mirage and a newbie.

Caustic knew from prior encounters and a confession that Bloodhound enjoyed hunting him in the ring. He was easy prey, they had put it while holding him down with his throat one night. Telling him that he made beautiful sounds while he died.

He’d be lying if he said that hadn’t turned him on.

The competition of the season, however, is what keeps him from just allowing them to have him. Not to mention they wouldn’t be interested if he just rolled belly up and LET them have him however they pleased. They had made this clear when they told each other little bits of kinks and interests. Caustic certainly liked to submit, but he did not like giving it up so willingly without a bit of a fight.

The firefight that inevitably comes is well fought. The newbie is taken down by Bangalore, only for her to get tricked by a decoy and taken out of the equation by Mirage’s hand. Octane does pretty well in running circles around Bloodhound to distract them, but inevitably gets downed and finished by a swift and merciful hand.

Caustic’s NOX grenade does a good job in capturing the newbie and Mirage off guard. With low health and no armor, it doesn’t take them long to get knocked and finished with his peacekeeper. It’s truly his mistake, in the end, to not pay attention to where his little hunter has gone. That is, until he hears the click nearby of a magazine being dropped and the loud, thunderous snarl.

He whips around at the ready to fire, not expecting them to be so close as they mow him down with their spitfire. Bloodhound’s eyes glow fiery red behind their goggles, the huffing snarls exhaling from them being helped by the Allfather’s blessings coursing through their veins.

They’re the only two left on each team.

He’s downed in one of the buildings, propping himself up on the inner wall of the building in the darker corner, panting as he holds his wound. Bloodhound approaches like a starved predator, each calculated step pounded to the floor to make them sound bigger. Caustic can’t help but grin, wheezing out a laugh, “And how do you intend on finishing this, little hunter?” A taunt passing from him. Perhaps not his smartest of things to say.

There were no cameras in the corners of these buildings. They both knew this.

Bloodhound doesn’t speak, not at first. Instead, they drop on top of him, straddling his hips and use their gear to their advantage, as it makes them heavier. He grunts in turn, letting himself slump flat against the floor when their knees dig into his hands to keep them against the floor and away from his weapons. They follow the action by removing his gas mask and at least have the kindness to set it to the side nearby instead of throwing it.

With a slowness, they pull out their blade and point the tip below his chin, seeming to get a thrill when his breath hitches. They follow the point lazily down his neck to the top of his suit, cocking their head to the side softly in a gesture that reminds him of a large cat toying with their prey. His cock is fattening up in his suit, pressing eagerly to their ass, but they make no notion that they even notice it.

Alexander is about to snap out a question, maybe dare them to stab him, but they just chuckle lowly. His mouth shuts just as they coo out. “Look at you, Alexander,” Their voice is low, dangerous with the way their helmet amplifies their tone.

They drag the blade back up on the blunt edge, allowing it to scratch but not slice over his flesh. “You fought so well. And yet, you do not fight me now.” Bloodhound’s hips grind downwards harshly, right against where they feel him swell up. Grinning in their helmet like a feral beast when he groans and his head falls to the side. Too easy.

“Ten squads left. You will let yourself be taken out this early?” Bloodhound continues to taunt, letting their blade come to the corner of his lips. It’s an unspoken thing, they’re telling him not to reply. It still makes him grunt under his breath, shuddering as they generously rock their hips against his crotch to keep him interested.

When he does open his mouth after a moment, they snarl at him and bring the blade to his throat again. Letting the sharp edges bite at his soft flesh there. “Do not move, prey.” Their voice low and daring when he tries to flick his eyes up to them. He’s painfully hard now, cheeks dusted red and each breath comes out shaky. His hips ache to push up, aching to feel the heat so well hidden behind their layers, but he resists. Holding still.

They wait for a moment, no words, letting him contemplate what they may want. It’s deathly still, until they hum and draw their blade away, sitting back on his crotch and making him groan in a strain. “I will offer you a trade,” They start, rolling their hips once more to give him an idea of what kind of trade. Alexander whines faintly in his throat, hands twitching under their knees. “You shall service me. Here. In the arena. And in turn, I shall allow you to continue to compete.”

In the arena. In... the arena? Alexander’s mind slowly reels at the idea. It makes him whimper, the idea that anyone could catch them, the idea that the cameras could somehow be on in here for once. He knows, logically, Bloodhound would have ensured that that worry was eliminated. They didn’t want outsiders to have any hint of an idea of their image. Yet, he’s nodding quickly regardless in turn, pleading faintly.

It’s with quickness that they move off him. Sheathing their blade as they work their tactical pants down eagerly to mid-thigh. Alexander, despite the pain, is able to drag himself up onto his knees, allowing himself to be moved deeper into the corner of the building. With one of Bloodhound’s gloved hands in his hair, he messily kisses up their inner thigh, nosing his way up with blurry eyes. His nose brushes their wet curls and much like a dog he uses his senses to guide him there.

Bloodhound always tasted like a salty and tangy treat. His hands shake as they come up to grab their thighs, feeling Bloodhound brush his hair back from his face with a pleasured sigh. He’s quick to act, not playing around as his lips seal around their juicy clit. Already hard and reddened with arousal. His own cock strains, but after many times practicing, he can ignore it. For now.

His tongue swipes from their hole up to their clit just to greedily get more of their juices. Alexander can only smirk when they snarl, tugging his hair to get him to where they wanted him the most. His tongue circles around their fat clit, nosing into their dark curls to inhale their scent as his lips seal back around it. With a few harsh sucks, they’re shaking, holding the back of his head with one hand as their hips hump against his face.

When Bloodhound takes over, he’s smart enough to not resist them. Alexander parts his lips open, sure that his beard is rubbing their thighs uncomfortably yet they don’t seem to mind. He lets his tongue loll open, letting them fuck against his tongue as one of his hands moves from their thigh. He’s quick to throw his glove off to not get anything dangerous inside of them, just before he’s introducing two fingers to their entrance and pressing inside. Scissoring right away to strain them and quirking them up to rub with quickness at their frontal walls.

The sounds they make, in turn, make Alexander moans against them. Their feral snarls fading off into soft, desperate noises as they hump against his face. Using his hair to guide him into licking harder where they wanted.

When they cum, it’s with a soft shake of their body and frantic humping against his mouth and fingers. He fucks them harder with his fingers in turn, letting them ride it out until they slump back against the wall. They’re at least kind enough to pet his hair back, cooing softly about what a good job he did as they pull his head back to look at him. Alexander’s lips are flushed red, slick making his lips and chin glossy with some sticking to his mustache. They cup his cheek, using their thumb to wipe is off and pressing it back into his mouth, pressing hard down on his tongue in a way that makes his hips thrust into nothing.

Without much more ceremony or formalities, they let him sit back on his knees and find his glove and mask again. Just as they pull back up their pants and their weaponry. They unclip the gold knockdown from their hip, throwing it on top of him and nudging him with their boot to get his attention as they walk past.

“I do not miss, Caustic. Remember this when my bullet lands its mark.” A threat that they intend on finishing what they started.

He couldn’t wait.

The champion is Bloodhound. Armed with a triple take and a spitfire for both close and long range battle. Caustic made it to top three, just in time to watch them take down the remaining squads and half watch them fight each other. In celebration, Mirage, who had been on their team and therefor was a champion as well, offers drinks at his bar. When Alexander hears Bloodhound accept, he’s quick to do so as well with a nonchalant shrug. Free drinks were free drinks.

And any chance to see Bloodhound without their fancy helmet was always a treat.

So, Alexander arrives at a decent time. Not late to the party but not early. The bar is a bit more club-like than he’s used to, with flashing lights and booths around the rooms. The big bar is beautiful in the center of the room, fit with many different drinks and glasses hanging about. He’d admit, Elliott had good decorating skills at least. Even with a few groups on the dancefloor eagerly moving bodies to the bass around them.

He dresses simply but nicely with a nice fitting black t-shirt under a left open dark green and black flannel. His jeans are nicely fit, not quite skinny jeans and are of a dark fade. Glasses are perched on his nose, hair pushed back from his face as he greets the other legends at the larger booth. Anita, Ajay, Wraith, Octavio, and Elliott are all present already. Natalie isn’t too far behind as she eagerly sits next to Wraith and plants a kiss on her cheek at the same time Anita does to squish her cheeks together. Even Alexander can’t help but laugh.

Steadily, more people join until just one is left. One he anxiously awaits.

As they approach the table, Elliott is first to make their presence known with a low whistle under his breath. Alexander couldn’t blame him. They prowl towards the table, crimson curls pulled into a ponytail to reveal their shaved underside and pierced ears. Red tinted large glasses rest on their face, protecting their eyes from the bright flashes of lights. A black mask on their lower face is pulled over their nose with sharp white teeth and a filter on the side, a gift from Octavio he recognizes.

On their body is a black tunic styled crop top with a leather jacket thrown over, dark raven feathers on the shoulders and fur on the inner lining at the neck. Tight leather pants and combat boots complete the look, fit with fingerless leather gloves and a black choker.

Elliott sounds about breathless beside him as he guffaws when Bloodhound strolls up to the table. They apologize for their lateness, offering that Muninn and Arthur were none too happy to be put to bed early. Elliott is quick on his feet, pulling a chair out for them on the opposite side of the table so he could rest next to them and Octavio on the other side. Alexander directly in front of them.

Bloodhound is sweet on Elliott, something that doesn’t bother Alexander considering they were in a no strings attached sort of relationship. He notes how they gently bow their head when Elliott compliments them before starting up friendly banter. Alexander can’t help it either, looking at Octavio who has his own mask tugged around his neck so he can down drinks. He’s talking a mile a minute, occasionally getting up to continue his story and throw out his arms as he speaks.

Alexander can’t help but smile fondly at it. He’d admit, he liked the little spitfire, especially when his green streaked mohawk was as tousled as it was now and his shaved sides had grown out to a fuzzy texture. He pays far too much attention to the way Octavio, at some point, is talking to Ajay about their different transitions. Excitedly pulling up his own crop top to show his scars under his chest as Ajay sqwacks and flags for him to pull back down his shirt. To which he responds with his double pierced tongue sticking out and saying he paid good money to do that.

It’s a nice outing for all of them. Bloodhound doesn’t drink, and Alexander hardly touches his own. More interested in listening in to the conversations going around the table and the laughter, especially the deep one near him from Makoa who holds his belly as he laughs.

It’s all fun and games until halfway through taking a drink, Alexander feels a boot resting between his thighs across the table. Judging by the weight and the pressure of it and how Bloodhound is holding their cheek, not looking at him, he just knows it’s them. They look at Elliott as he takes another drink, obviously buzzed as he chats away with Octavio about their squad match together a few days ago. Both reenacting the scene of them shooting. Bloodhound lets out a soft chuckle among the rest of the laughter around the table, and Alexander only coughs out a sound.

Pressure is applied more between his legs until he’s forced to shift in his spot, rocking his own hips into the boot as he grits his teeth. Alexander never got off earlier, didn’t have enough time between the game and then coming here. He’s easy to arouse, and with them doing it so nonchalantly in public? That’s just cold, even for them.

Yet, he’s even more turned on.

Alexander rolls his neck, and apparently seems a little tense because Octavio asks him if he’s alright. Reaching across the table to take Alexander’s hand that’s gripping the glass tight, laughing a bit and telling him he’ll break the glass. Alexander just might at feeling the cooler body temperature from Octavio and how he looks at him concerned.

Just as the boot rolls its heel into him and he has to step up and excuse himself. Thankfully a few others do as well, saying they’re going to get more drinks. A perfect opportunity for him to grab Bloodhound’s arm and offer for them to come with him to gather drinks for each other as well, saying he’d like their recommendations.

Lying through his teeth as he tries to conceal how hard he is in his jeans. Alexander can FEEL the smirk on their lips as they accompany him. Alexander doesn’t even play coy as he leads them through bodies, it’s easy to get lost, no one should miss them for a half an hour, yes? He could just say they wanted a smoke break or something. He’s so busy coming up with lies that he doesn’t realize he’s started gripping their arm harder as he leads them to the private restroom.

As soon as the lock clicks into place, he’s shoving Bloodhound back against the door. “You little tease-” He hisses out, tugging their mask down and around their neck at the same time they push their glasses up to rest on the top of their head. He gets to peer at them, their blinded fiery eye, the dangerous ruby red sheen of the other. The way their full lips twist into a grin to show off the double set of sharp canines.

He doesn’t get the upperhand, despite having them backed against the door. Their fingers twist into his shirt, their breath mingling from how close they are as Bloodhound slips a thigh between both of his legs. “Did I not tell you that I do not miss?” They tease back, eyes flickering down to his lips just as Alexander surges forward.

There is no love in the kiss. It’s lust, hunger as their teeth click with his. Their pierced tongue licks its way into his mouth at the same time he grabs a handful of their plentiful ass, yanking them closer to his body and in turn grinding himself onto their thigh. Bloodhound moves with him, one hand moving from the grip on his shirt to instead twine into his hair and yanking it back a bit. Causing him to break from the kiss just as their teeth sink into his bottom lip and pull it softly.

They let go, only to attack at his throat with a harsh bite to the junction. Bloodhound growls immediately to his huff of pleasure, suckling on the bite to leave a hickey as they force their thigh harder up against him.

It’s messy and rough, just how Alexander liked it. Liking the way they snarl when he lifts them up against the door, effectively shifting to wind their legs around his waist. He keeps one arm braced on the door, hand fisted and his other on their ass. They keep a hand in his hair, teeth and lips on his neck as Alexander begins to thrust against them. The zipper on his jeans doing no favors for his confined cock and their leather pants doing no favors being so easy to slide against. They don’t get the friction they want, snarling against his neck and moving to his ear instead to nip at the lobe.

With both their frustration at lack of friction, there’s a bit of a shift and tug until Bloodhound can unwind from him. They flip the script as soon as they have the upper hand, twisting Alexander until he’s pushed against the door. He’s about to complain, a snarl on his lips and managing to get out, “What are you-” Until they huff at him, grabbing his cock through his jeans and squeezing harshly.

“You will take what I offer, Alexander.” They growl out dangerously, giving a rub over the bulge he’s made and watching his eyes flutter with sadistic glee. “You have played my game long enough today, I think you deserve a treat.” Alexander can’t stop the way his eyes open briefly in excitement at that word. Treat. Were they really going to- in a restroom???

The answer is given when they wait for him to object or whine, satisfied when he just holds still as they sink to their knees. They work quick on the fly of his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them a bit down on his hips. Normally they’d tease, nuzzle and lick at his flesh for ten to twenty minutes, but they know they must make this quick.

Bloodhound, instead, sighs at his scent. Nuzzling at his gray boxers where a wet patch lays from his drooling cock. Their tongue slips out, licking at him through the fabric and delight in the way he squirms and places his hands flat on the door behind him. He knew better than to grab, especially when they look at him from under their lashes, taking a long lick upwards and showing glints of their canines.

Yeah, he knew better than to disobey.

They don’t tease him long, pulling his boxers down to reveal their prize. Alexander’s cock was certainly large, about as thick as their wrist and eight inches long with a beautiful shiny pink head peeking from foreskin. Freckles dot up the base of his dick into trimmed dark auburn curls. They sigh at the sight of him, nuzzling at his cock from underneath and his cheeks flush from embarrassment.

Bloodhound loved giving head as much as they liked receiving it. If they could, they would have perhaps made this a show, taken their time. However, it appears Alexander did not have the patience they were expecting from him today. They suppose they couldn’t blame him, not when they had dressed like this and teased him.

They take his cock in one hand to stroke him languidly, pulling back his foreskin so they can wrap their pretty lips around the head and suck. They lap at the head when precum drools from him, taking him halfway and repeating the motion. Able to watch his head fall back, lips part and struggle to keep quiet. They quite like when he peeks down at them, his cock jerking when they make eye contact briefly before they take him a good ways down their throat and slowly pull back to the head.

The way he groans out, “Fuck.” under his breath is always such a treat. He tries to be a good boy, they can feel it in how his hips strain not to thrust. But, just in case, their free hand rests on his hip, gripping him hard enough that their nails sink into his plush skin there as a warning. When his hips do wind up twitching, they let their teeth scrape across his sensitive flesh on his cock and relish in the way he lets out a low, unrestrained whine.

What a masochist.

As Alexander edges closer, he always watches when he can. Eyes half lidded, peering down at the way they suck on his cock. Pulling off just so they can lick from base to tip from the underside and return back to bobbing their head. His fingers twitch, aching to yank them down and choke on his cock, but the last time he did that he ended up in lingerie and pictures taken of him. And as much as he enjoyed the humiliation, he’s not sure he wants to do it again.

Yet, before he can cum, they move from him. Wiping off their mouth on the back of their hand, but before he can cry out and ask what they’re doing, they move closer.

Alexander almost cums when he realizes what they’re doing. One hand wraps around his cock again, stroking as they work down their pants and their underwear. Beginning to jack him off with the head of his cock kissing their lower lips and rubbing against their clit. They offer him a hum, “I would prefer you not to make a mess of Elliott’s bar.” As if explaining their reasoning was as simple as cleanliness.

Alexander’s nails scrape against the door, a knot building in his abdomen and releasing tension when he cums. He can’t tear his eyes away as he watches himself cum onto their underwear and over their lower lips. A strip of white streaking over their reddened clit that twitches with its own arousal and he almost begs to clean his own mess up.

With a few last strokes to make sure he was soft enough to tuck away, they help him with his pants as they pull up their underwear and pants as well. Affectionately patting his cheek before they pull back on their mask into place and lower their glasses back down onto their nose.

The rest of the night, Alexander is hyper aware of any shift Bloodhound does in their seat, and wonders if they’re easing their own arousal.

When they find him later in the compound outside their door, they laugh and call him insatiable.

Maybe he was. But when you get someone as wild as Bloodhound in your life, could you blame him?

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