Multifandom Fic Rec

A smithy amongst the endless taverns, bars and kitchen shops was essential for every pirate; after all, you couldn’t fight with a dented sword.

She had repaired hundreds of problems for the hundreds of ships that had anchored here over the years.

With a swing of the hammer and a little embers, any sabre or sword could be straightened; even a dagger was left sparkling clean.

Fresh nails for the ship’s carpenter, straight from the forge, and even railings and other decorative finery she could now fix in a couple of hours.

She could even mend the ladies’ clothes on board and the captains’ extravagant garments; if a hook or a buckle was bent, she simply had to carefully focus the flame and, in a flash, everything was straight again – simple and efficient.

When it came to the weapons, however – the agents’ tools of the trade – it was a completely different matter.

Whether it was the brass knuckles made from the finest cast metal or the shaft of the umbrella itself, the metalwork on the ship had taken days to complete, for none of the agents allowed any damage...and one of them took particular care to ensure this.

Mr.9

Her Prince, as he called himself when she had to adjust his crown for the first time; he came stumbling towards her.

Rather battered at the time, kicking open the double doors with a cloud of soot trailing behind him, muttering a curse at Mr.5 under his breath before his gaze settled on her.

“How may I serve you?” she asked, trying at the time to be as inconspicuous as possible as he approached he.

Yet even then it became clear to her, as he carefully removed the crown, that he was different from the others.

Mr.9 might well be an agent, but he seemed all the more at ease in his attire.

“Adjust your prince’s crown...please” he had commanded back then, even though embarrassment burned on one cheek; with the nine on his cheeks covered in soot, he looked more like a servant than a king.

“As you wish” she had replied back then, meeting his gaze calmly yet inwardly grateful for the request before she took the gold in her hands and began to stoke the fire.

It had been an unassuming yet heart-warming first encounter, and one that delighted her all the more the more often it happened.

In most cases, it was his crown, dented, rusted, shattered or cut to pieces, that the redhead placed on the table, in a worse state than the last time.

Other times it was his baseball-like bats that she had to have refitted with new metal when they were on the verge of breaking, but so far she had always been able to fulfil his wishes.

But what she truly appreciated about Mr 9, what she loved so much, was when he beamed, a broad smile, as he took the crown and truly looked like himself again.

Before he bowed and reached for her hand, saying “Bye bye, baby” bidding her farewell with a kiss on the back of her hand and disappearing.

Those were the moments when her heart had long since stopped beating with fear and instead beat with tender feelings.

~~~~~~~~~~

It could have been an unremarkable day on Whiskey Peak; the sun stood high in the sky, doing its best to keep everything hot, dry and bathed in light, whilst only a light breeze swept through the town.

The cacti stretched skywards; there was a normal bustle about, everything preparing for possible arrivals.

Shops opened, in the shade weapons were loaded and knives sharpened, flags were hidden, and the bodies that remained were disposed of so thoroughly that no one could detect the harsh smell.

In her shop, too, things were slowly coming to life; she put some coal from the baskets into the fire and, using the bellows to stoke it, her forge slowly came to life.

Her gaze shifted away from the embers with interest as she heard hurried footsteps outside, curses and outrage as the double doors of her forge were flung open.

“It’s over, it’s finished…my crown!” Mr.9 bellowed, completely soaked as if he’d just been in the sea, leaving a trail of water droplets on the floor as he approached her.

“Calm down, um, how about you dry yourself off and let me have a look at the crown, my prince?” she asked him, knowing the nickname flattered him.

His crossed arms unclenched and he revealed the golden crown. Suppressing a sigh, she carefully picked up what was left of it.

“Is that acid?” she asked, gesturing to a chair in front of the second fireplace, where he sat down before she fetched him a towel, which he accepted with a “Thank you” to dry his hair.

“Acid? A bloody wahle, and pirates, they’ve all lost their minds!” he continued to grumble, only vaguely mentioning his mission.

Which, as far as she could tell, hadn’t gone to plan, and that was never a good sign.

Pushing the crown briefly aside, she knew she had to get him back on his feet as quickly as possible, send him back out on the mission, yet her heart told her otherwise.

After fetching another towel and pouring herself some tea, she walked over to him; the redhead merely gave her a confused look as she tried to dry his face.

“You’ll catch a cold...it would jeopardise your mission and I’d lose a loyal client” she began casually as she gently smoothed the smudged paint on his cheeks.

The sun might be shining, but in the shade and in the sea water, things couldn’t be all that good.

Mr 9 paused before a smile touched his lips, a sigh “A loyal servant-no, the saviour of a prince, my dear” he tried to wave her off and slowly took the cloth from her.

His fingers brushed hers, his cold meeting her warmth as she rose, satisfied that he was drinking the tea whilst she set about the crown.

The first moments were filled with the crackling of the fire, his sniffling, which gradually subsided, and the gentle rustling of the coals as she began to heat the gold; a pleasant calm, they sat together in the smithy.

It was only after a few moments that she heard his footsteps; quietly, deliberately, he came over to her.

She looked up and saw that Mr.9 had touched up his make-up; at least on his face, he now resembled his former self again.

The slight tremor had left him as he came to stand beside her.

“Truly a noble craft; your work is outstanding” he praised, his fingers running over the hammer, gently tracing the wooden anvil before brushing against hers.

“Were it otherwise...you would be a personal blacksmith” he continued, his gaze fixed on her as she looked at him, struggling to keep holding the hammer, to carry on with her task, not to give in to his handsome gaze, to such words in which nothing but sincerity lay.

“Too kind, my prince” she said modestly, trying to refocus as she brought the metal down again and made the final touches.

It had taken some effort to remove the acid, as she now knew, it was from a whale, but with the right polishing and sanding, she held a completely new-looking crown in her hands.

Turning to her customer, he was just straightening his jacket in the small mirror when his gaze fell on her; a broad smile spread across his face as he approached her.

“I hope it is to your liking” she said with a wink, placing the crown on his head; he gave a special bow and made the final touch as he adjusted it.

He looked perfect.

That should have been it, the moment when, like all the others, he could now go and throw himself into his mission, only to return days later with a crown that was completely broken. This time, however, he stopped.

Mr. 9 turned on his heel.

Perhaps it was the realisation that his mission hadn’t gone as it should have, or perhaps he was plagued by something like a premonition. Whatever it was, she didn’t know, yet he took her hand in his once more.

“If you’ll allow me, such service must be royally rewarded” he began, the kiss on the back of her hand familiar, comforting, as he suddenly, gently, with a nervous look in his eyes, cupped her face in his hands.

Barely holding back, Mr 9 gave her the chance to push him away, to reject him, to say no to her prince – but why?

It was her hands that buried themselves in his green jacket as they both finally shared the kiss after having looked at one another.

“It seems my prince is shy” she smiled, able to see the blush on one cheek clearly.

“Your prince my dear” he replied before drawing her in for another kiss as the golden crown on his head slipped slightly.

After all, it was that glittering object that had brought them together in the first place, even with the shadow of the company and the uncertain future – at least they now knew each other’s feelings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn’t remember the last thing you saw before hitting the ground and going unconscious. 

Caught in the middle of a crossfire, you took a hit to the arm that sent you spinning and right onto some debris in the dust, hitting your head and taking you out for the count. It felt like you were out for hours, the darkness of nothing keeping you isolated from what was happening around you, scared that someone was going to come along and finish the job on you before you even had a fighting chance of getting the fuck out.

That was the risk of traversing the zones, especially when you were a nobody. No crew, no home, no place to settle to get a good night’s fucking sleep. Pure adrenaline in this shithole backwater hell, or you were a goner.

And it seemed as though your luck had run out.

…

…

…

“Hey!” A voice penetrated the solemn prison your mind was stuck in.

…

…

Your eyes shot open, and you gasped in the kicked-up dust as hands tapped and shook your body. You choked and sputtered, feeling your scalp throb, rolling onto your side and trying to make out who was above you as your eyesight returned to normal.

“Hey! Come on, we gotta get outta here!” Before you knew it, you were being hoisted up by two people.

You winced as your injured arm got thrown over someone's shoulder, barely registering the fact that you were on two feet before you were hurriedly dragged across the sandy ground and hauled into the backseat of a car.

“Who the fuck is that?” A guy yelled from the driver's seat as you were pressed against someone else whom you didn’t know.

“Just fuckin’ drive! We couldn’t leave her back there!” You looked to your left at the voice speaking.

A guy with shoulder-length black hair leaned forward, motioning the artificial redhead to go, while broad hands from the right of you gently wrapped around your injured arm, examining the damage before pulling out a beat-up first-aid kit. Your head lazily lulled to the attention of the curly-headed man beside you, who gave you a warm but worried smile as he dug around for a small bottle of disinfectant and a bandage.

“Hang tight, it’s not easy doing a patch job in a moving vehicle.” He assured you, pushing back your jacket with one hand and reaching behind you to motion you forward so he could get better access. “Ghoul, a little help? Just keep her steady.”

More hands kept you as still as possible as the car burned rubber through the desolate desert, and the open sides let wind rip through the interior. It flicked your hair wildly, and you tried to focus on your breathing. Something from that head-knock had sent you a little off-kilter.

“My…” You winced as you felt a rush of liquid being poured into your wound. “My fucking head.”

“Your head? Did you hit it?” The man called ‘Ghoul’ spoke, leaning forward closer to your face.

“I think so.” He tried to look at the dirty hair on your head, vaguely nodding as if to confirm your suspicion.

You moaned quietly in pain as the bandage got wrapped snugly around your arm. The curly-haired man mumbled some sort of apology as he finished tying it up, moving you back onto the seat. Your heart wouldn’t stop drumming at a thousand miles an hour, and all you could do was close your eyes and try to remember where all your stuff was as the car sped down the highway.

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that the car was slowing down and pulling into a run-down diner that was also connected to a gas station. You didn’t speak for the car ride, mostly keeping your eyes shut to avoid the raging winds. There was barely any conversation at all, actually.

No one spoke a word to you, which, given your state, you were grateful for, but the few words spoken were between the two men in the front seats, one blonde, one red-haired. It was nothing you could make out, unfortunately.

“Hey, you with us?” Ghoul gently tapped your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah…” You stumbled out of the car with a helping hand from him.

Hobbling into the diner, you collapsed into the first booth you saw. Your head was still throbbing, your arm thrummed with pumping blood, and you were half-covered in beige dust, completely fucked. There wasn’t a question thrown your way; they just let you close your eyes, going to do whatever they were doing. You didn’t know, nor did you care, because the seat was so…

You darted upright, narrowly missing the table. It was dark inside the diner, only thin strips of moonlight providing you with a somewhat clear vision of your surroundings. Carefully, you touched your head where the pain radiated from to find a tender lump. Ow.

The table in front of you, which was clear before, now had a small bottle of water and a little plastic bag labelled ‘ibuprofen :)’ that held a singular white pill. You weren’t sure you could trust it; hell, you didn’t know these people from a bar of fucking soap. But it sure was tempting, considering how much it could help if it truly was ibuprofen.

There was a note, too. You picked it up, only just making out the scribbled words in the dim lighting.

‘Dear Stranger,

Hopefully, you have woken up not too badly, but in case you have, I have left you an ibuprofen. Sorry that it couldn’t be more. Medicine is in rations at the moment after Kobra (blonde dude) got into a nasty accident, and we haven’t been on a medical run since, unfortunately. Also, don’t take it if you don’t want to. I know it’s sketchy. Just know we aren’t bad guys, and we only want to help.

-Jet ★ (curly hair dude)’

You eyed the pill suspiciously, tossing up whether it was worth the risk. Fuck it. Scarfing the pill down, you chased it with water, still on edge, but hoping it would help, even in the slightest.

“Wait for the hallucinations to kick in.” A quiet voice spoke from a few metres away, making you jump out of your skin.

“What?!” You squeaked a little too loudly, immediately reining in your volume. “What the hell did I just take?”

The red hair was hard to miss as he stepped a little closer, leaning on a barstool and craning his neck to stretch it. You swallowed as the moonlight accentuated the curve of his throat. “Relax. It’s actually ibuprofen. But, God, the look on your face? Priceless.”

A nervous laugh escaped you as you got comfortable again. You didn’t have much to say; he made you nervous for reasons that weren’t yet clear to you.

“Don’t get comfortable, doll. You’re outta here when day breaks.” He spat like it was a fact, and maybe it was. Maybe your salvation was only temporary. The man mumbled something on his way back through the diner. “Wastin’ our shit…”

Settling back into the worn-in leather, tenser than before, you closed your eyes. Whoever he was, he certainly wasn’t fond of strangers crashing his party.

You barely registered the fact that you had fallen asleep until you were groggily opening your eyes to the sounds of hushed chatter a few booths down from you. The ibuprofen was long past its effectiveness window, so your head and arm were back to aching as you silently lay in the booth, trying your best to make out what was being said.

“No, it’s not happening, she can’t stay.” It sounded like the man with the fire-red hair from last night.

“Poison, this isn’t up for debate.” Came next, it sounded like Ghoul. “At least give her a few weeks to get back on her feet.”

So, Poison was his name… Fitting.

“This is such bullshit, we can’t afford another mouth to feed, you fuckin’ know that.” Poison bit back.

“Respectfully, what the fuck were we supposed to do? Leave her out to die in the desert? Are you serious?” It was clear that Ghoul was getting agitated.

“Well, she wouldn’t be our problem if you did.” 

Part of you wanted to get up and leave, start walking down Getaway Mile until you could figure out how to get back to your hideout, because fuck dealing with this.

“Poison… Come on…” A different voice spoke sincerely, like he was disappointed.

There was a long silence, then a slam and angry footsteps approaching you, except they didn’t stop. The front door swung open, and the footsteps travelled outside, ground crunching underneath heavy boots. A second pair hurried after, and then the diner door clicked shut.

You pushed up, yawning quietly. You looked to the booth where Ghoul and, now knowing his name, Jet sat facing away from you. They were quiet until Jet stood up, running his hands over his face and facing you, surprise colouring his expression.

“Oh! You’re awake.” Ghoul whipped his head around at his words. Jet continued. “Hope you slept alright… Sorry if you heard any of that.”

“No, no. I get it. It’s cool.” You said a little too quickly. “I can get going soon.”

“Please, stay at least for a couple days. You won’t make it back home in the condition you’re in.” Ghoul added, turned around in the booth seat.

“The other guy doesn’t seem too thrilled about that idea…” He seemed pissed.

“Look, Poison… He’s just constantly on alert. Lots of walls. Doesn’t warm up to people quickly. If you get what I mean.” Jet explained. “Ignore him, you’re more than welcome to stay.”

Three weeks later…

You were fine now, the wound had closed fully, and the lump on your head was gone, more than capable of packing up and going back to wandering the zones alone. But it seemed like that wasn’t going to happen.

Jet had already fashioned you a bedroom out of the diner’s mostly unused walk-in pantry, so you didn’t have to share an open space with them all. You appreciated it, but with Poison’s passive aggressiveness over it being near his side of the main area, it felt a little less homey.

Kobra and Ghoul sat perched on the car, listening to the radio, waiting for you. They’d promised to take you to get your things when you were better. You were grateful for that, because you’d been living out of a bin of old clothes for the past few weeks, and they weren’t your style at all.

No one told Poison that you were staying full-time, well, no one could. Every time you got brought up to him, he’d shut it down, busying himself with something to dodge the topic. He wouldn’t acknowledge you when you tried to speak to him one time, groaning and pushing up from his seat, exiting the diner to get anywhere else besides where you were.

The sun was blazing down on the three of you as the car sped down the highway into zone five. Kobra had lent you a pair of sunglasses since yours got broken and were left in the dust when you got knocked out. He didn’t speak much, but he was friendly when he did, and you had come to learn that he and Poison were brothers.

After directing them to your little hideout, you loaded all you could into the boot and backseat, which was basically everything, and took off again for the diner, making it home just before dinner. Ghoul helped you carry your stuff inside, grunting as he lugged in a heavy duffel bag.

“What the hell is even in this?” He cracked a smile, placing it down with a thud inside the pantry, along with the rest of your gear.

“Bombs.” You stared at him blankly before chuckling. “Kidding, it’s mostly stuff I’ve gotten through some Neutrals. Food, parts, shit like that.”

“Plannin’ on sharin’?” The words formed a sly grin on his face, and he nudged your shoulder.

“Of course.” You grinned like it was obvious. “If you guys plan to keep me around, that is.”

At that, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder as the two of you walked through the swinging kitchen door. “Consider yourself a Nobody no more, because you, my dear friend, are here to stay. We gotta work on finding you a cooler name, though, ‘Concussion’ doesn’t have much of a ring to it.” He let go and leaned on the bench where Jet was preparing dinner, which wasn’t all that exciting– Lizard and rice. But it was better than dog food. “Or maybe it does. I dunno. I’m starvin’.”

“Calm down, it’s almost ready.” Jet laughed.

Dinner was loud like always, talk of raids, playful jabs at each other, and forks clinking against worn ceramic. You didn’t speak a whole lot, just sat and ate quietly at the chair they had stuck on the outside of their usual booth. It was nice having company after so much time alone.

The only time Poison hadn’t been so tense around you was during meals, but that didn’t mean that he acknowledged you, merely just not eyeing you down like you were nothing. He sat to your left, not bothering to even glance in your general direction as he hunched over the table in squeezed laughter at a joke that Kobra made.

If you never saw him like this, you would think the man had a permanent stick up his ass.

Soon, the eating came to an end, and all that remained was conversation, that of which you didn’t want to butt-in on. So, instead of continuing to sit awkwardly at the end of the table, you did what you did most nights and excused yourself, picking up the plates that were essentially licked clean.

As you leaned over Poison to grab Jet’s plate, it didn’t go unnoticed how tight the air in his throat became, words falling short in his mouth. You internally winced, knowing you were pissing him off by simply existing in his space, like a thorn in his ass.

Although, as the days went by, you couldn’t tell if the anger came from a place of hate, or something else entirely.

You shook it off quickly and grabbed as much as you could before speeding off to the kitchen, swallowing away the thick lump lodged in your throat. Truly, on everything you owned, you didn’t know why your presence bothered him that badly. You were quiet, clean, and civil, courteous of his space, of everyone's space. It felt like a lost cause trying to fly under his radar, because no matter how invisible you made yourself, he’d still find a way to zero in on you with just a look and make you feel like the smallest person in the world.

There had been only one moment between you both since the first night you came here when he spoke to you, and that was a few days ago.

It was late. Really late. You were settled in for the night, rugged up to combat the scathing cold that plagued the desert valley after midnight. Jet, Ghoul, and Kobra had stumbled in maybe an hour ago, covered in glitter of all colours and giggling amongst themselves as they geeked out about the concert they attended in Zone 5. Poison didn’t show up with them.

You had spoken to them briefly before they crashed onto their makeshift beds, snores and sleepy mumbles sitting quietly in the atmosphere, and you began to wonder where the other one was as you sat on the floor of the pantry, tinkering with some electronic parts that were probably worth more as scrap. Anything to fill the time as you tried to make yourself tired enough to sleep.

Maybe you were an insomniac, or maybe it was the years you had spent watching your own ass in the desert, but constantly having that feeling of paranoia sitting on the back of your neck was really starting to take a toll on you. 

Weirdly enough, it was stronger than ever when you knew Poison was around.

The only light you had was a little solar-powered flashlight that you had taped to the edge of a shelf, and you cursed as it flickered slightly, showing a low-battery symbol on the power indicator. You sighed as you resigned the parts to a box and the tools to their bag.

As you hunched over the bag, slotting different small screwdrivers into a case, you heard thumping coming from the outside of the pantry. The hair on your neck pricked up as the footsteps became clearer, encroaching on the door. Suddenly, you were very aware of your heartbeat as it sat in your throat, ears perked like a rabbit sensing a wolf.

The light went out, leaving you in total darkness.

A shaky breath left your parted lips as the sound stopped, and your eyes darted to the shadows peeking under the door. It couldn’t be him, right? No, maybe it was Ghoul asking for the medical basket, or something… Anything but him.

The handle turned achingly slow, faint light seeping in as the door pushed open, your eyes travelling up the silhouette that hunched in the doorway. The red hair was unmissable.

“Water.” His voice was ripped raw, and you carefully reached behind you, getting on your hands and knees without a question, to jam your arm into the back of the bottom shelf and pull out a small bottle of water.

You hesitantly extended your arm, remaining on your knees as you leaned back onto them. Poison seemed unamused, grunting slightly as he stepped forward into the pantry, snatching the bottle from your hand, unscrewing the cap and chugging down about two-thirds of the liquid.

He huffed as he swallowed his last gulp, the air standing still as his presence overpowered the small space. You stayed still, unsure of what to do with yourself.

Fisting the bottle towards you, you stared at it a little bewildered, and he gently waved it in your face. “Don’t waste it.”

“What?”

Poison wasn’t budging, and you looked up at him, his face and intentions hidden in shadows, and wrapped your fingers around the plastic, taking it from him and lifting it to your lips. You timidly sipped, an eyebrow quirked at him as the slight taste of his mouth sat on the rim of the bottle.

Silently, he tipped the end of the bottle up, forcing you to swallow down the rest of the water in a few heavy pours. You could just make out his expression above you, expectant.

You couldn’t help the pitiful swirling rush that ran down your stomach as he took the bottle, lazily wiping a droplet from your lip.

“Night.” He rasped, the quiet word stuffing your ears as he let go and exited the pantry, leaving the door ajar in his wake.

It was a weird night, you thought. Maybe it was his way of keeping you small—the humiliation of it. But you couldn’t help feeling hot at the thought of him over you like that.

The dishes clattered into the soapy water, speckling it onto the benchtop next to it. It amazed you how crafty they were, somehow getting running water all the way out here; it was something you could have only dreamed of when you were living alone. There was only a certain amount a day, but it was better than nothing at all.

Washing up took all of ten minutes, and when you were done, you retired to a booth to read some manual you found to kill time. The other four split off in their separate ways, only Kobra coming to sit with you, sliding into the seat across from you, while Jet and Poison headed out, Ghoul staying back to sort out some shit they brought back from a raid.

“You’re so quiet.” He said abruptly, using a finger to drag the manual over to him.

“And you’re one to talk.” You chuckled, pushing your hair out of your face as you looked up at him.

“But I do it ‘cause it’s cool.” A smirk fell on his lips as he shut the booklet. “You do it because you’re scared of my brother.”

“I’m not scared of Poison.”

“Funny, most people are.” He shrugged, sucking his teeth before leaning in. “You should be, too. I haven’t seen him like this for a while.”

“What do you mean?” Suddenly interested, you sat up a little.

“I can tell you frustrate him, he’s my blood after all, and it’s only a matter of time before… Well…” He sighed dramatically before slinking out of the seat and walking over to the front door.

“Kobra, seriously. Is he going to fucking bash me or something? Kill me in my sleep?” You whipped around, a sinking feeling in your gut.

With a shit-eating grin, he leaned his head back through the door. “Good luck.”

And then the door swung shut.

You turned back around to find Ghoul staring at you from the west of the broken display case. He looked away with a shake of his head, sorting parts into separate boxes quietly. 

So many questions. But he would tell you if you were going to get hurt, right? Surely.

That night, you lay on your back on your own makeshift mattress, staring up at the ceiling at the overhead light that didn’t work. You knew it was well past midnight, and you could hear the acid rain hitting the metal on the roof. It had been raining for a while.

You tried to sleep by any means possible, counting sheep, deep breathing, staying as still as possible, but nothing worked. Your eyes burned, yawns escaping you as you rolled over for the fifteenth time, shuffling with the blanket. You beat your head into the pillow in irritation, like it would do something. 

A deep, heavy sigh emptied from your lungs, and you searched your brain for any other possible method of getting to sleep.

…

No. You couldn’t. Not here.

Not with a room full of men on the other side of that flimsy door.

But it would help.

You stiffly rolled onto your back, heart beating out of your chest as you carefully slid a hand under the waistband of your loose shorts. The last time you got off was probably over a month ago, right before the accident.

Softly, you grazed your clit, toying coyly with it like someone would burst in at any moment. It didn’t feel like a whole lot, but that’s what happened when you weren’t turned on from the start. You needed some… Inspiration.

You closed your eyes, cycling through the usual things until your mind landed on him, Poison. That night. How he stood over you, forcing you to drink down that stupid fucking water like it was his dick. And then the image flashed, and you felt yourself dampen under your fingers, warm slick leaking out of you as the fantasy replayed in your mind.

As much as you disliked the way he acted towards you, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t send goosebumps rising down your skin to imagine him over you, lazily pumping his cock in his hand while you sat readily on the floor to take it down your throat.

You moaned quietly as you gently rubbed your wet fingers over your clit, biting your lip as you imagined him holding you by the hair and tracing your lips with his tip. “Fuck…”

It’s not like you hated him, but you didn’t particularly like him either. The only reason you were getting off to him was that somehow, that red hair had seeped its way into the back of your mind, festering like a parasite. If he weren’t such a mystery, you wouldn’t think he would be as attractive.

Liar.

You cursed at your brain as you hummed, dipping your fingers inside of you to lubricate them as you rolled your hips, aching for more friction. It was getting increasingly hotter under the blanket, and the heat filled the small space quickly. You began to sweat as you worked your fingers in a circle, thinking about swallowing around Poison’s cock.

“S-stupid fucking—ah—red hair…” You whined as you flipped over, grinding into your palm as your face smushed into your pillow. “Stupid smirk… Stupid… Fuck.”

Your mouth hung open with damp pants as your eyes screwed shut, feeling the climax you’d been working for finally start to stir in your stomach.

And that’s when the pantry door pushed open, and you froze still, mouth snapping shut as all the air in your lungs seized, leaving your chest tight.

There you lay, hand covered in your arousal under a blanket that was the only thing saving you from total humiliation. You couldn’t open your eyes and face whoever was standing there; the thought of it sent you dizzy with embarrassment, your gut sinking straight to your ass.

Please leave, just shut the door and pretend that everything is fine.

It felt like you had lain there forever, keeping your breathing as steady as possible, as whoever stood in the doorway assumedly looked down on you. The rain pounded hard against the roof, so you wondered if they even heard you. Maybe it was someone looking for water again.

The door shut.

You sighed in relief.

“You think my hair is stupid?”

He’s fucking inside. 

That unmistakable tone rang in your ears.

Staying still, your eyes darted open to the darkness, adjusting over a few seconds, roughly making out the form that stood at your feet. Guilt coiled over the retreating climax.

“Don’t let me stop you, doll. You think I’m so fuckin’ stupid, why does it matter if I’m here?” His voice fell heavy and restrained over you, a crushing force.

“I’m not—”

“Oh, I’m not, I’m not! Don’t bullshit me.” In a split second, your blanket was ripped off you, and the air cooled the gathering sweat on your body. “Would you look at that…”

You slinked your hand from your shorts in shame, face burning against the pillow as you mumbled out words that held nothing but anxiety behind them. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Mm, so you were thinkin’ about me while you played with your pussy? Is that it?” You felt him kneel at your feet as he spoke with venom, singing to your guilt like an anchor dragging you further down into it.

“Y’know…” His hands reached forward, grasping the fabric of your shorts. “You really, really don’t know how hard it’s been…” Dragging them down your legs, you let him take them off, leaving you bare in the dark. “Living with someone who gets under your skin.”

“I don’t know what I did to you. How’d you even hear me?” You asked, shivering as his hand ran up your inner thigh. He shuffled forward, spreading your legs with his knees.

It was quiet for a moment, and you could just make out his heavy breaths over the rain as his thumb ran dangerously close to your vulva. You couldn’t help the arousal that shot through you. He dropped closer to you, by how much, you could only guess. “I’ve got good ears. And, I’m a light sleeper. Lucky you.”

Poison grazed his thumb through your folds with a mocking laugh that dripped with satisfaction, pressing against your clit and circling it with precise motion. “It’s been months since I’ve been able to fuck somethin’ other than my own hand.”

His movements were slow, feeling you out as if he were testing your limits. And you let him, relaxing under the touch like it was natural. It had been too long since you’d had sex, just like Poison, and you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity even though it was him that you were letting touch you.

“You’ll let me fuck you if I make you come, won’t you?” He teased, breath ghosting your exposed lower back as his thumb pressed over your hole before slipping back to your clit. “You wouldn’t be so shallow, right, doll?”

You couldn’t help but moan, the smug fucking way he called you that pet name… God, he was annoying. It didn’t matter, though, because your brain had already given you the green light. You gulped, lips parted as you spoke softly against the pillow. “Yes…”

“Good. ‘Cause I think you’re already close.” He laughed again, licking a stripe on the small of your back, picking up his pace as he circled with slightly more pressure.

He was right. Considering you were getting there before he rudely interrupted, it wasn’t hard for the feeling to return when he started petting your cunt like he knew exactly how to push your buttons. You arched up slightly as he laid gentle kisses on your back, switching to his index and middle fingers to work your body into a puddle of syrupy want, sweetening you up to your climax, which burned between your thighs with every smooth motion.

“How– How do you know—” You moaned, trying to lift your head to look back at him.

“Shh, shh, keep it down, doll.” He mumbled against your skin, reaching up with his free hand to push you back down into the pillow. “Just enjoy it.” You couldn’t hear what he said after that, because moments later, your abdomen was thrumming with electricity that balled up rigidly, body sweating with anticipation.

You bit down on the pillow as your orgasm crashed over you, fists clutching the sides of it as your body locked up, shuddering as he guided you through it. The moans that left your mouth were—luckily—muffled into the fabric, and your eyebrows knitted together as the sensations dragged through you in waves, your hole pulsing around nothing.

You sighed as the intensity retreated, jittery flutters spasming in your muscles as he took his hand away. It was all of five seconds before hands gripped your hips and hauled your ass up, Poison grinding his obvious erection right into you. 

“My turn.”

Hearing him shuffle with his pants, you used your hands to support yourself a little better, feeling him caress the curve of your ass while he pulled his cock out. He teased your entrance with his tip, sliding it through your soaked folds and humming as he relished in the fact that you were backing into him without even realising it.

You couldn’t help yourself, moaning silkenly with want, trying to grind your cunt against his cock in the dark. “I thought.. You hated—Fffuuck!”

Thank everything that he had loosened you up first because he pushed in without warning, without letting you even get used to it, sinking to the hilt in one smooth, hard motion. Poison used his thumbs to spread you wider as you squirmed, a tight laugh on his lips like your fate was sealed the moment he stepped into the cramped pantry.

Your mouth hung open, eye almost twitching as you tried to compensate for the stinging pain by bucking forward, only to be brought right back onto his cock with a rough grunt and a spank to your ass that made you yelp, whimpering as he soothed it over with a brush of his hand.

“Fuck, I’ve missed that feeling.” The words were laced with pure sleaze as he gave you a few slow thrusts, mostly for his own benefit. “You’re tighter than I expected, doll.”

Every sense you had was getting overwhelmed, the pantry was stuffy, hot with sex, your whines rang back into your ears as he fucked into you, picking up his pace quickly. You were both sticky with humid sweat, and it clung between you as his balls slapped into your pussy. It was hard to get a good breath with your face pressed into the pillow, and you took what you could as moans slipped out more often than you wanted them to.

He spanked your ass again, the bite of it permeating your skin. “That was a fuckin’ compliment. Say thank you.”

“T-Thankyou.” Arguing would’ve been useless, and the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his dick was too drugging even to formulate a retort.

“Smart, talking back only gets you punished.” You could hear the amused smile playing on his lips. That was when he threaded his hand into your hair, yanking you up as he sat back a little, pulling you down onto him, your head falling back as his hands moved to your chest to pinch at your nipples.

Poison dragged his tongue up your neck, leaving a wet, hot trail of saliva behind, and rolling his hips up into you. “Better ride if you know what’s good f’you.”

You whined as you did so, the tip of his cock grazing your cervix with each rock, making you rely on his hands to keep you upright as it sent shooting euphoria through your chest. He groaned in your ear, occasionally nipping at your skin as you lost yourself to the pleasure, face contorted in the extremes as you tried desperately to keep a rhythm.

All sense was to the wind, mind melting not only from the thick swelter of the space, but also from the fact that the man who had spent the last three weeks damning your existence and avoiding you like the plague had boiled down into him being balls deep inside of you in the middle of the night after giving you a fucking orgasm.

You hoped the rain would cover up most of the sound, because you didn’t think you could face the others if they heard you. It reminded you of what Kobra said… Did they know this would happen? Or at least he did?

Your thighs burned as you deliriously rutted on his cock, moans choked by the need for air. He pulled you back each time you leaned forward to get a grasp on yourself, keeping you in the cycle of mindless begging and gasping.

“Can’t– Can’t–” The threat of tears burned in your sinuses as you hung your head low, squeezing your hands on his quads, nails digging into the bunched fabric for dear life, riding him like he was a lifeline.

“Can’t what?” Poison was a fitting nickname. He spoke with such an ego, snarling his words as his hands gripped your flesh, taking whatever they could. “Too much? Aw, I’m sorry…”

He dropped you without warning, body hitting the mattress with a thud as you slid off of him, grunting as the air got knocked out of your lungs. The tears came then, trailing down your cheeks and down your chin, soaking into the pillow. Your chest heaved as your head spun, drunk off his dick like some common whore.

It was moments later that he crawled over you, heat radiating from his body, and teased your abused hole like this was some sort of game. He turned sweet in his tone, singing to your lust. “You can tell me to stop.”

“No! Pleasedon’tstop–”

You moaned, body jolting as he pushed back into you, parting your soaked folds and stretching your cunt around his length. Your head dropped into the pillow, his forearms on either side of you as he pounded deeper than you thought was possible, hitting down at an angle that made your thighs shake.

Everything was sticky, your hair was wet, his panting breath coated your shoulder in condensation, and every surface of skin between you that touched dragged with tack. The fucking room was a sauna, and you were both burning up.

“As long as you’re here–” He grunted, clearly starting to unravel. “You don’t—fuck— let anyone else touch you, got it?”

You nodded, words a sob in your throat, after Poison, you don’t think you’d want anyone else. Finding a fuck like this this far out in the desert was too rare.

“Good, ‘cause I could get used to this, doll.” He laughed, licking your cheek messily.

It was so nasty, but so good, and you whimpered as he pushed up, his knees bringing your legs together between his. Hands pushed on your hips and lower back, bolting you into the mattress, and his thrusts got rougher and sloppier over the course of maybe a few minutes. Part of you prayed for him to finish, silent begs in your mind as the pleasure almost became unbearable.

A few more drilling pumps, and he was pulling out, hot ropes of his release falling over your ass and lower back, cursing and moaning like there wasn’t a room full of people beyond the door. His fingers dug into your skin, and you could only hope that none of his come hit your shirt. 

Neither of you spoke, heaving breathing being the only sound left, and he dragged his tip over your asscheek, seemingly getting the last of his orgasm off. You heard him get up after that, and then a piece of fabric fell onto your legs.

“You can use that to clean up.” His voice was smooth, like nothing just fucking happened.

The door cracked open, a cool flow of air entering the steaming space, and you could see him in the dim light, hair in a damp mess, sweat glistening on his skin, and no shirt.

That must’ve been what he tossed you.

Your eyes fluttered, and you yawned, your back stiffer than a board. You were going to sleep well.

“Night,” Poison said a little quieter, turning his head to you with a wicked smile. “Doll.”

He slipped out, leaving the door ajar once again, and you attempted to reach back for the shirt, only to fall limp with a huff.