#*rubs hands together* the battle begins B)

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

I have covid (for the first time ever wtf) and I’m feeling sick and pathetic. Just thinkin’ bout how I have to take care of myself and I hate it. How do you think sugar daddy Joel would take care of our sugar baby reader without spending any money if she got Covid or the flu??

I need some fluff to get me thru. PS I love u and your writing so flipping much.

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of illness, reader can eat chicken noodle soup, reader has hair that can be brushed away from her face

Timeline: this does not fit into the current TCOY story line and is just a separate drabble in the same universe!

[a/n: first of all, OH NO. I know how bad COVID sucks. (fun fact I've had it on five separate occasions, I basically collect a new round of it every time a new strain runs through our hospital). Please please please make sure you stay hydrated above all else! Obviously I don't know your medical history, but the best general advice is to not get dehydrated. Your body needs fluids to fight the good battle. second, I love YOU and I know this isn't much and it's not that great b/c I threw it together in fifteen minutes but I hope it makes you feel a little better, my love💜]

TCOY DRABBLE:

HOMEMADE IS BETTER THAN STORE BOUGHT

"happiness is homemade."

“Baby girl, I need you to sit up for me.” Joel hummed.

You were buried in the thick comforter of his bed feeling absolutely miserable. The cold had come on suddenly. A small cough, more irritating than anything else, spiraled into full body aches, a splitting migraine, and congestion so bad that it felt like your head was filled with concrete. Joel’s heavy hand brushed aside the hair matted to your forehead with dried sweat. Your fever was lingering last Joel checked, but the Nyquil he forced you to take with a bottle of water earlier was helping some.

Joel murmured your name once more and you just moaned in response. You felt the bed dip with his weight and his hand dragged up and down your back. The motion brought with it a comfort on par with medication itself. 

“You think you can eat somethin', sugar?” Joel asked.

“Maybe later.” You mumbled. “Sleepy.”

“That’s probably the Nyquil.” Joel replied. “I sent Riley to pick up some stuff from the store.”

You felt Joel lean over and his lips brushed against your temple. You shook your head, “You’re gonna get sick. I should quarantine alone.” You buried yourself deeper into his bed. With your nose stuffed like it was, you couldn’t smell his sheets and that bothered you more than it probably should’ve. “Don’t you have that meeting today too?”

“If you think I’m leavin' you like this, sugar, then that fever’s got you delusional.” Joel snorted. You felt the covers you had bundled yourself in begin to untangle and a whine that could only be described as pathetic slipped your lips. Before you knew it though, Joel was under the thick comforter with you and you felt yourself get pulled into his warm chest. “C’mon, baby girl. Sleep it off.”

You snuggled closer into his grip and focused on the random patterns he was rubbing on your shoulder with his hand. As a human, this was obviously not the first time you had gotten sick, but something about this time felt different. With Joel’s thick arms wrapped around you it dawned on you that it was him. The last time you were sick you were forced to take care of yourself and work through it. Having your sugar daddy around made you needy as all hell it seemed, but the comfort Joel immediately showed you had you melting against his chest.

“When I wake up, can I have soup?” You blurted the words out, half asleep.

Before sleep took you completely, you heard Joel’s deep chuckle, felt it rumble against you, “Sugar, you can have anythin' you want.”

When you woke up, you did feel marginally better. Joel was no longer in bed with you and you slowly sat up to rub at your face. You craved a hot shower to wash off the sweat and open your sinuses a bit more. A groan left your lips, still feeling crummy, and you began to climb out of bed.

“Whoa, whoa, pump the brakes.” Joel called out. He came into the room holding a tray and you chuckled at the sight of him. He set the tray down on the nightstand to usher you back into bed. “Where do you think you’re goin'?”

You gave him a tired smile, “Shower. I feel icky.”

“Icky?” Joel asked and you nodded. He chuckled and leaned forward to press his lips on your forehead again. He sat back and rubbed a hand against your leg. “Think you can stomach somethin' first?” You nodded again and Joel grabbed the tray. It looked like a bowl of chicken noodle soup, but not the kind that came out of a can of Campbell’s. “Here we go.”

You tilted your head, “Where’d you buy the soup?”

“Didn’t.” Joel grinned. “Made it.”

“You made it??��

“Uh huh.” It was honestly adorable how proud he looked of it. “Homemade is better than store bought, right? Gets you better quicker.”

You laughed, “I’m not so sure about the science behind that.”

“No, no. When I googled the recipe it definitely said this would get you better faster.” Joel teased.

You picked up the spoon and carefully blew the heat away before bringing it to your lips. The first thing you tasted was salt. A lot of salt. Too much salt. You coughed in response and tried not to twist your face to reveal the reaction. You cleared your throat and smiled, “Yum.”

Joel furrowed his brow, “What’s wrong? No good?”

“No. It’s⏤ It’s good.” You said quickly. “It’s… I like the, uh, the…” 

Joel grabbed the spoon from your fingers to take a sip himself and he immediately spluttered with a cough and groan, “What the fuck is that?” Your lips twitched up into another smile. “That tastes awful. Jesus Christ. Gimme that.”

He took the tray from you and set it on the nightstand again away from you. You set a hand on the side of your face while watching his face crumple into a grumpy look of annoyance. You shook your head, “What did it taste like as you were making it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. While you were making it did it taste okay?” You clarified. Joel narrowed his eyes at you in thought and you tilted your head. “…Did you taste it while making it?”

“You’re supposed to eat it while you make it??”

You laughed, “Not eat. Just taste.”

“Shit.” Joel scoffed. “I ate some of the chicken and it was good.” You reached out and cupped his face. He looked annoyed with himself, but at your touch the grumpy demeanor morphed into a soft look of concern and disappointment. Joel sighed and turned his head to press a kiss to your palm before leaning into your touch again. “I’m so sorry, sugar. Just wanted to do somethin' nice for you myself rather than just buy…”

You shook your head, “This was nice. I loved it.”

“There is no way you loved that soup. It was just salt, damn it.”

“No, but I love that you tried.” You replied. “It’s the effort that counts.”

“That’s just what people say when they fuck up.” He grumbled.

You leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, “You said the homemade version would make me feel better, and this has definitely made me feel better, daddy.”

Joel wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and stared softly for a moment before his smile returned. “You missed my lips, sugar.”

“I already told you. I’m icky.”

“Don’t care. Still want you.”

“You are already pushing your luck.” You scoffed in amusement. “You are gonna end up sick.”

Joel pulled you closer, and even at full strength you’d never be capable of refusing this man. He paused with his lips just barely touching yours. “I’ll risk it.” Joel’s lips sealed against yours tenderly. A soft kiss of comfort rather than of passion. A wordless act of reassurance that he was there. Joel’s tongue just barely brushed against yours before he leaned back and left you wanting more. He hummed, “You taste like salt.”

“Yeah, gee, I wonder whose fault that is.”

[poetryvampire]

Zevlor and Tav as a married couple trying to seduce Rolan by inviting him for dinner and wine, and Tav puts their hand on Rolan's thigh under the table. He's too embarrassed to say anything because he's enjoying it a little too much (far more than is appropriate for a married person while their spouse is RIGHT THERE.)

Except, Tav starts rubbing little circles against him with their thumb while Zevlor's tail kind of wraps lightly around his ankle. And, gods, why are they both looking at him like that? Zevlor should be furious, right? It doesn't seem like he is, though. Rolan might be dreaming, but the warmth of Tav's hand moving upwards along his thigh and to his stirring cock makes him either A. not want to wake up from this beautiful dream or B. this is not a dream at all, and he doesn't want them to stop. Either of them.

Zevlor telling him casually, "Tav is quite...talented, let's say. Gifted with wandering hands and a sinful tongue." Rolan can't even begin to formulate a response to that, especially not with the way Tav is giggling while they touch him over his clothing.

"According to you, my love. We may have to let Rolan decide for himself."

anyway here's the throuple brainrot that lives in my head rent free

Im dying and crying and alive again. Thank you thank you this is beautiful. And for letting me become insufferable about this.

Cause first of all yes 1000% sexy couple Zev and tav have my whole heart omg. And them trying to seduce rolan but it just keeps not working because either it goes over his head or he gets way too flustered and bolts. And Zevlor's like we gotta make a battle plan because if I don't watch you make him come absolutely undone soon I'm gonna die. So they decided to corner him together and go in for the kill.

And Rolan, poor sweet Rolan. Such a sweetheart is losing his whole mind. He's so embarrassed and mad at himself for being so painfully horny for people that are 'completely unattainable'. High key stressed out. All the reason for him to get double teamed.

lord so much to think about. But I need that hardcore rolan yearning. I need that boy good and tortured

[valkeakuulas]

hey, how about your Echo headcanons? 👀

*rubs hands together*Thank you for asking this. Please, be prepared.

Headcanon A:  realistic Echo's a badass but it took some time for him to reach the level of badass we got glimpses of in the TBB. He's definitely a little awkward in the beginning (you all remember him just pointing out why they've got those regulations not to go outside right after poor Cutup got eaten???) but once Echo gained confidence, he definitely earned that kama.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious The man can snark with the best of them. Pre-Skako Minor Echo kept it wrapped up most of the time, only revealing his skills in the art of Snark around those who he felt most comfortable with.

TBB-Echo doesn't hold back as much he once did but he still saves some of his best comments for moments he knows they'll cause the biggest impact.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends There are two heart-crushing headcanons I've got that both are tied on how Echo dies. 1) He dies during a battle while trying to free more clones. He's the last Domino to fall and once Echo's gone, so is the memory of them. Maybe, between his second last and last breath, Echo thinks of them, the squad that did it despite all the odds, but also the squad that gave him a new home.

2) The cybernetics take him out. Something gets misaligned, a piece of wiring disconnects, and Echo's gone. He never sees it coming, nor feels it. One moment he's talking and walking, the next he's permanently offline.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own. ECHO GETS TO LIVE A LONG AND A HAPPY LIFE SURROUNDED BY THOSE WHO HE CARES FOR THE MOST. (T_T)

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🌕 Blood Moon: Chapter Ten

Blood Moon: Blood Moon: You have been defying nature, and perhaps, even the Gods. After returning to life because of Tony Stark’s sacrifice, all humans now have a designation: alpha, beta, or omega. Angry at the fate you’ve been given, you decide that you will do anything to ensure that your fate is in your own hands. You’ll soon find out that it is never a good idea to tamper with fate, especially when one man makes it his mission to ensure that you understand that you can try to out-fly your destiny, but fate will eventually catch up to you.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Mind Fuckery, Vomiting.

To Note: A/B/O Universe Post Snap, Zemo x NAMEDFemale!Reader, Timeline Of Events Is More Spread Out (Weeks Rather Than Days) To Fit Plot Line.

Word Count: ~5.4k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The morning sun filters through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow across the kitchen table. You sip your coffee, savoring the quiet before the day begins. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and pancakes fills the air, a comforting routine you've grown to love.

Bucky and Sam enter, both looking more serious than usual. Sam grabs a mug and pours himself some coffee, while Bucky takes a seat across from you.

"You look like you didn't sleep much," you say, eyeing Bucky's tired face.

"Couldn't sleep," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something's been bothering me."

Sam sits down next to him, his expression equally grim. "We've got news from New York," he starts, glancing at you before looking back at Bucky. "Flag Smasher activity's been on the rise again."

You set your mug down, the weight of his words sinking in. "What do they want now?"

Bucky leans forward, resting his arms on the table. "They're getting bolder. More organized. It's not just random acts anymore; there's a pattern."

Sam nods in agreement. "We've been tracking them for weeks. Last night we got intel on a possible attack on the GRC while they're voting."

Your heart skips a beat at their words. The Flag Smashers have caused enough chaos already; the thought of them escalating further is chilling. Violence in New York would injure so many people.

"So what’s the plan?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"We need to head back to New York," Sam says firmly. "Figure out what they're planning and stop it before it gets worse."

Bucky's eyes meet yours, concern etched in their depths. "You should stay here," he says softly. "It's safer."

You open your mouth to protest but stop yourself. Deep down, you know he's right. Your body and mind are still recovering from everything it's been through, and jumping into another battle isn't wise.

"I'll stay," you agree reluctantly, hating the feeling of being left behind but knowing it's for the best. "It would—it wouldn't be good for me to jump right back in."

Sam reaches across the table, placing a hand on yours. "We’ll keep you updated," he promises.

You nod, squeezing his hand briefly before letting go. "Just... be careful," you say, looking between them. "Karli has proven that she won't let anything stop her."

Bucky stands up first, giving you a reassuring nod. "We will."

Sam follows suit, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. As they prepare to leave, Sarah enters the kitchen with a curious look.

"Everything alright?" she asks, sensing the tension.

"Yeah," Sam answers quickly, pulling her into a brief hug. "Just some business we need to take care of in New York."

She frowns but doesn’t press further. Instead, she turns to you with a warm smile. "Looks like it’s just us girls with the boys then."

You return her smile, though your mind is already on Sam and Bucky’s mission ahead. You watch as Sam and Bucky leave, the door closing behind them with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine. Sarah’s voice pulls you back to the present.

“Come on, let’s get these boys ready for camp,” she says, her tone light but her eyes concerned.

You nod, grateful for the distraction. Together, you head upstairs to find AJ and Cass, who are bustling around their room, excitement palpable in the air.

“Hey, campers,” you greet them with a smile. “Ready for your big adventure?”

AJ looks up from his suitcase, his eyes wide with enthusiasm. “I can’t wait! We’re gonna do archery and swimming and—”

“And I’m gonna catch the biggest fish ever!” Cass interrupts, holding up a toy fishing rod proudly.

Sarah laughs, ruffling Cass’s hair. “Alright, boys, let’s make sure you’ve got everything packed.”

You join her in checking their bags, making sure they have enough clothes, toiletries, and other essentials. The room buzzes with energy as AJ and Cass chatter about all the fun they’re going to have.

“Don’t forget your sunscreen,” you remind them, slipping a bottle into each of their bags. “And remember to write us letters.”

Cass groans playfully. “Letters? That’s so old-fashioned!”

Sarah chuckles. “You’ll thank us when you’re not sunburned.”

Once the packing is done, you help them carry their bags downstairs. The van is already waiting outside, ready to take them to camp. You can feel a pang of nostalgia watching them; it reminds you of simpler times before life became so complicated.

AJ gives you a quick hug before bounding out the door. “Thanks for helping us pack, Diana!”

Cass follows suit, hugging you tightly. “Yeah, thanks! We’ll miss you!”

“I’ll miss you too,” you say sincerely, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

Sarah walks them out to the van while you stand on the porch, watching as they climb in with excited waves and shouts of goodbye. The van pulls away slowly, and you wave back until it disappears around the corner.

Sarah returns to your side with a sigh of relief mixed with wistfulness. “They grow up so fast.”

You nod in agreement, something deep in your chest rumbling for children of your own. “Yeah, they do.”

Two weeks have crawled by since Sam and Bucky left for New York. Every news broadcast has your attention, every headline about the new Captain America—a mix of horror and pride fills you. Sam wielding the shield, standing up to threats, showing the world what a true hero looks like. You’ve watched him become the symbol of hope he was always meant to be, even if it means he’s not here.

But your body betrays you. You sit at the kitchen table, rubbing your swollen fingers, trying to ignore the dull ache in your side. The headaches come and go, leaving you disoriented. The dizziness often forces you to grab onto the nearest piece of furniture for support. It’s getting harder to brush off.

Sarah walks in, a basket of laundry balanced on her hip. She eyes you with concern as she sets it down. "You don't look so good," she says bluntly.

You snort, managing a weak smile. "Thanks for that."

"Seriously, Diana," Sarah continues, her tone more gentle now. "You've been complaining about headaches and feeling off for days. What's really going on?"

You sigh and lean back in your chair, wincing as another wave of nausea hits. "I don't know, Sarah. My legs are swollen, my fingers too. I keep getting these dizzy spells and—" You gesture vaguely at your chest. "My breasts are sore. What exactly am I doing to make them feel like that?"

Sarah's eyes narrow thoughtfully as she sits across from you. "It almost sounds like you're pregnant."

You laugh it off at first, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, right."

But then you freeze, memories crashing back in vivid detail—the unprotected sex with Zemo... twice. Your hand instinctively goes to the bite mark on your shoulder, a stark reminder of that intense night.

Sarah watches as realization dawns on your face. She raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

"Oh no," you whisper, panic bubbling up inside you.

"Diana?" Sarah’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

"I think I'm going to throw up," you say quickly before bolting from the table and rushing to the bathroom.

You kneel on the cold bathroom floor, gripping the edge of the toilet as your stomach twists and turns. The sour taste of bile lingers in your mouth, and you heave again, emptying what little remains in your stomach. Sarah is there beside you, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. The gentle motion provides a small comfort amidst the chaos swirling inside your mind and broiling in your stomach.

“Breathe, Diana,” she says softly, her voice steady and reassuring. “Just breathe.”

You try to focus on her words, inhaling deeply through your nose and exhaling slowly through your mouth. It takes a few moments, but the nausea begins to subside.

When you finally sit back, Sarah hands you a damp washcloth. You press it to your forehead, grateful for the cool relief.

“Thanks,” you mutter, still feeling shaky and drained.

Sarah sits back on her heels, studying you with concern. “I think we need to know for sure,” she says gently. “I’ll run into town and pick up a pregnancy test.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You nod numbly, unable to form a coherent response. Inside, panic flares like a wildfire. The possibility that you might be pregnant—carrying Zemo’s child—overwhelms you.

Sarah stands up, offering you a hand to help you off the floor. You take it gratefully, leaning on her for support as you rise unsteadily to your feet.

“I’ll be quick,” she promises as she guides you back to the kitchen and helps you sit down at the table.

You nod again, barely hearing her words over the roar of your thoughts. Your mind races with questions and fears. What will this mean for you? It wasn't like it would be universally acceptable for you to carry and give birth to Baron Helmut Zemo's child. Sam and Bucky could not find out.

“Diana?” Sarah’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts.

You look up at her, seeing the compassion in her eyes. “Yeah?”

“Try to relax while I’m gone,” she says softly. “I’ll be back soon.”

You force a weak smile and nod once more. “Okay.”

With that, Sarah grabs her keys and heads out the door, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and rising panic.

You sit at the kitchen table, staring at the wood grain pattern, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The minutes crawl by, each one feeling like an eternity. The room is silent except for the faint ticking of the wall clock. You feel every second, every beat, pounding in your head.

Your fingers trace absent patterns on the tabletop. You try to steady your breathing, but it's shallow and erratic. The possibility of being pregnant with Zemo's child is too overwhelming to process.

The front door opens, and you hear Sarah's footsteps before she appears in the doorway, a small pharmacy bag in hand. She walks over and places it on the table in front of you.

"Here," she says gently. "Let's find out."

You take a deep breath and nod, reaching for the bag. Your hands tremble as you pull out the pregnancy test. The instructions blur in front of your eyes, but Sarah is there, guiding you through each step.

“Just follow the instructions,” she says softly. “It’ll be over soon.”

You make your way to the bathroom, clutching the test like a lifeline. The next few minutes pass in a haze as you follow the steps mechanically. Finally, you set the test on the sink and sit down on the edge of the bathtub, waiting for what feels like an eternity.

Sarah waits outside, giving you some space but remaining close enough to offer support. You stare at the test, heart pounding in your chest.

Three minutes pass slowly, each second marked by the ticking clock in your head. When time is up, you force yourself to look at the result window.

Two lines.

The world tilts on its axis, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. You’re pregnant. With Zemo’s child.

You open the bathroom door slowly and see Sarah waiting with an anxious expression. Her eyes meet yours, and she knows instantly.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, stepping forward to pull you into a hug. “It’s going to be okay.”

You cling to her tightly as tears stream down your face, your mind still struggling to process everything. Her warmth and presence provide a small comfort amidst the storm raging inside you.

"We'll figure this out," Sarah says firmly as she holds you close. "You're not alone in this. Uh, you know who the father is?"

Her words sink in slowly but surely. You take a shaky breath and nod against her shoulder.

You pull away from Sarah, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. "Yes," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know who the father is."

Sarah’s eyes search yours, full of questions. She opens her mouth to speak, but you cut her off.

"Sarah, listen," you say, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "Sam and Bucky can’t find out about this. They absolutely cannot know."

She frowns, concern etched across her features. "Diana, they care about you. They worry so much. They deserve to know what's going on."

"No," you insist, shaking your head vehemently. "If they find out... It would complicate everything. Sam has enough on his plate with being the new Captain America. And Bucky... He doesn’t need more on his mind."

Sarah sighs, crossing her arms as she considers your words. "But keeping this a secret isn’t fair to them—or to you."

You reach out and grasp her hand, desperation seeping into your voice. "Please, Sarah. I need you to trust me on this. It’s safer for everyone if they don’t know." She studies your face for a long moment, her eyes searching for any sign of doubt. Finally, she nods slowly, though reluctance still lingers in her expression.

"Alright," she says quietly. "I won’t tell them. But you need to promise me you'll take care of yourself and let me help."

A wave of relief washes over you as you squeeze her hand gratefully. "I promise."

Sarah's gaze softens as she pulls you into another hug. "We’ll get through this together," she murmurs against your hair. "With Cass and AJ too."

As you stand there in Sarah's embrace, the weight of the secret settles heavily on your shoulders. You can't stay in Louisiana. Sam and Bucky would find out all too easily and one whiff of you once they know you are pregnant? Game over. You are going to call Oezenik tonight, and get yourself the hell out of the country.

The jet’s hum is a distant memory by the time you land, the night swallowing any remaining traces of the journey. Oeznik's efficiency leaves you in blessed awe; not a single detail out of place. You could kiss the butler for his help. He guides you to a nondescript car waiting on the tarmac, and within minutes, you’re speeding through darkened streets.

He doesn’t speak much during the ride, and neither do you. Your mind is a whirlpool of worry and guilt, spiraling into dark corners you didn’t know existed. The injections—those damn injections. You had taken them religiously, thinking they were your lifeline. Now, the possibility that they could have harmed your baby gnaws at your soul.

The safe house looms ahead, a shadowy silhouette against the midnight sky. Oeznik parks and leads you inside, the silence between you heavy but understanding. The interior is regally spare, but comfortable—exactly what you’d expect from one of Zemo’s safe houses. No frills, just functionality.

Oeznik hands you a keycard and a burner phone before retreating to give you space. “You’re safe here,” he says simply, his tone reassuring but firm. "Anything you require can be found or purchased for you, Miss."

You nod, clutching the items tightly as if they could anchor you in this storm of emotions. “Thank you,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible.

He dips his head in acknowledgment before disappearing into another part of the house. You’re left standing in the entryway, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once.

Your feet move on their own, carrying you to what appears to be the bedroom. You collapse onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as tears well up in your eyes. You think about Zemo’s touch, his bite—the moments that led to this life growing inside you.

And then your mind fixates on those injections again. The thought that they could have harmed your baby is unbearable. You feel a surge of determination amidst your fear and guilt.

“I’m done with them,” you mutter to yourself, your voice gaining strength with each word. “No more.”

You search through your bag and find the remaining vials and syringes. For a moment, you just stare at them, feeling both anger and relief course through your veins. Then with deliberate motions, you throw them into the wastebasket by the bedside table.

As if sensing your turmoil, Oeznik reappears silently at the doorframe. “Everything alright?” he asks softly.

You wipe away stray tears and nod. “I’m stopping them,” you say firmly. “There is no need to refill my medicine. I won't be taking it.”

His eyes flicker with something like approval or maybe relief—it’s hard to tell—but he simply nods in agreement. “Understood.”

You lie back down on the bed after he leaves again, a strange sense of calm washing over you despite everything else swirling around in your mind. You’ve made one decision; now it’s time to face whatever comes next. A terrifying thought.

For now though—just for now—you let yourself breathe.

You wake to the scent of something warm and savory. The room is dim, shadows stretching across the floor as you blink groggily, trying to orient yourself. It takes a moment for your surroundings to come into focus—the safe house, the bed, the events of the past few days crashing back into your consciousness like a tidal wave.

Your body feels heavy, limbs weighed down by exhaustion and lingering aches. You push yourself up slowly, propping yourself against the headboard. A soft knock at the door startles you slightly.

“Miss Diana?” Oeznik’s voice is gentle but firm, carrying a note of concern.

“Come in,” you croak, your throat dry and scratchy.

The door opens quietly, and Oeznik steps inside carrying a tray laden with food. The aroma makes your stomach rumble in protest. You realize with a start that you haven’t eaten in what feels like forever.

“I brought you something to eat,” Oeznik says, setting the tray on the bedside table. “You’ve been asleep for quite some time—about eighteen hours.”

Eighteen hours. The number shocks you, but then again, it makes sense. Your body had been running on fumes for so long; it’s no wonder it finally gave out.

“You need to take care of yourself,” he continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re not just responsible for your own well-being now.”

The reminder sends a shiver through you. Your hand instinctively moves to rest on your stomach, where new life grows. You nod slowly, acknowledging his words.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, reaching for a piece of bread from the tray. The first bite is almost heavenly; you hadn’t realized just how hungry you were until now.

Oeznik watches as you eat, his expression softening slightly. “If there’s anything else you need—anything at all—don’t hesitate to ask.”

You swallow another bite before looking up at him with gratitude. “I will.”

He dips his head in acknowledgment before stepping back towards the door. “I’ll leave you to rest,” he says gently. “But please remember to take care of yourself.”

As he exits the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click, you let out a long breath and continue eating slowly, savoring each bite. As much as you wish for the food to bring you warm and soothe your growing fears, all your mind can focus on it that you are pregnant and without your alpha.

5 Months Later

Your hands move almost frantically, grabbing every towel, sheet, and piece of clothing within reach. The safe house has never felt this small before, every corner filled with the evidence of your growing desperation. Your omega instincts have taken over, driving you to create a nest—a place of comfort and safety for you and your unborn child.

But you’ve never done this before. The pile on the floor is messy, haphazard. Towels draped over chairs, sheets twisted into knots, clothes strewn about in disarray. You’re not sure what it’s supposed to look like, only that it’s not enough. It doesn’t feel right. It's not enough.

You drag another blanket from the closet and throw it onto the heap, then collapse onto it, breathing heavily and trying to rub your scent into the nest to make it more… right. Nothing changes and you feel like screaming in frustration. All you muster is a whimper as you press a hand against your enlarged belly. Your heart races in your chest, and your hands shake with the effort. Your body is screaming for rest, but your mind won’t let you stop. You need to finish this; you need to make it perfect. But it's not!

The scent of fresh linens mingles with the faint hint of dust in the air, but it’s not what you crave. You long for his scent—Zemo’s scent. Even just a trace of it would calm your racing heart, soothe the anxiety clawing at your insides. Your omega whines internally, a desperate plea for its alpha.

You clutch one of his old shirts—left behind in a drawer—from when he had worn it years ago. You press it to your face, inhaling deeply, hoping to catch any lingering trace of him. Nothing. You want to cry, or wail. Your omega likes that option, for it will surely call your alpha back to you.

Your omega stirs in agitation, yearning for more than just a scent on fabric. It wants him here, by your side, holding you close and reassuring you that everything will be okay. But he’s not here. He's not here.

You curl up in the middle of the nest, clutching the shirt tightly against your chest as tears prick at your eyes. The ache in your heart is almost unbearable as you realize how much you miss him—how much you need him right now.

But there’s no time for tears or longing; you have to keep going. More towels, more shirts. Something. You force yourself up again, grunting as you struggle to get your body off the floor. Your belly is so big now, so heavy. You grab more blankets from another room and adding them to the pile. As you work tirelessly to build something that resembles a nest—something that might bring some measure of comfort—you can’t shake the feeling that something vital is missing.

You know what it is; or rather who it is. It makes tears leak down your face because he isn't here.

You collapse in the center of your messy nest, panting heavily, sweat clinging to your skin. The room closes in on you, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Tears spill from your eyes, soaking into the blankets and clothes surrounding you. Your body trembles with exhaustion, muscles aching from the relentless drive to create a space that feels safe—a space that feels like home.

But it’s not enough. Nothing about this chaotic heap of fabric brings you any peace. It’s a poor substitute for what you truly need: Zemo’s presence, his scent, his touch. The thought makes another sob tear through you, raw and jagged.

You clutch the shirt tighter against your chest, wishing desperately that it could somehow summon him to your side. The ache in your heart grows sharper with every passing second. You bury your face in the fabric, inhaling deeply in a futile attempt to catch even the faintest trace of his scent.

The nest feels wrong, incomplete. You feel wrong—lost without him here to ground you. Your omega howls in frustration and sorrow, its cries reverberating through your very soul.

Another wave of sobs wracks your body, and you curl into a tighter ball, clutching the shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you from completely unraveling. The tears flow freely now, each one a testament to how deeply you miss him.

The weight of your emotions and physical exhaustion finally begins to pull you under. Your sobs gradually subside into hiccuping breaths as your body succumbs to the need for rest. You’re too tired to fight anymore—to keep pushing yourself when there’s nothing left to give.

As sleep creeps over you, a part of you hopes that maybe—just maybe—you’ll find some solace in your dreams. A fleeting moment where Zemo is with you again, even if only in your mind. Your breathing slows, the tension easing from your muscles as darkness claims you.

Yet sleep eludes you. Every time you close your eyes, your mind jerks you awake with a jolt, demanding you continue nesting. Your body aches, muscles twitching with the relentless need to make the space perfect. Each attempt to settle down is interrupted by another burst of energy, driving you to rearrange the blankets and pillows once more.

You toss and turn, sweat slicking your skin as frustration mounts. The urge to nest is overwhelming, primal, consuming every thought. You drag yourself out of the nest again, gathering more towels from the bathroom, another blanket from the closet. Your hands move almost mechanically, folding and refolding, arranging and rearranging. But no matter what you do, it never feels right.

You slump back into the center of the nest, gasping for breath as exhaustion seeps into your bones. Tears blur your vision, and a choked sob escapes your lips. The room feels suffocatingly small, the walls closing in on you as your omega howls in despair.

Just when you think you can't take it anymore, the door creaks open. You don’t even have the strength to look up, your body too heavy with fatigue and emotion.

A familiar scent fills the room—rich, comforting, grounding. Your heart leaps in recognition even before his voice reaches your ears.

"Diana."

Your head snaps up, eyes wide as they lock onto Zemo standing in the doorway. He moves toward you with purposeful strides, his eyes filled with concern and something else—something that makes your heart ache with longing.

You try to speak but only manage a strangled whimper as he kneels beside you. His hands are gentle but firm as they cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears streaking down your cheeks.

"I'm here," he murmurs softly, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm here now, Draga."

The tension in your body melts away under his touch, replaced by a profound sense of relief. You lean into him, burying your face in his chest as more tears spill forth—not from sadness or frustration this time but from sheer overwhelming emotion.

You pull away from Zemo, anger simmering beneath the surface. "You left me like this," you spit out, voice trembling with fury and exhaustion. "I’ve been agonizing over possibly injuring our child alone. All because of those damn injections I was taking before I knew I was pregnant."

Zemo’s eyes soften, his hands still cradling your face. “Diana,” he begins, his tone soothing but firm, “there were things that needed to be done before I could return to you. Important things.”

“Important?” you nearly shout, your body trembling with the effort. Your protective Omega instincts make your eyes blaze with fury. “More important than being here for me? For our baby?”

He shakes his head, a pained expression crossing his features. “No, never more important than you. But necessary.”

Your breath hitches as tears blur your vision again. The weight of everything—the fear, the uncertainty, the loneliness—crashes down on you. A whine stirs in your throat, a noise of defeat. “I’ve been so scared,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Scared that I hurt our baby with those injections.”

Zemo’s grip tightens slightly, grounding you. “Diana,” he says softly but urgently, “listen to me. Those injections—once I realized what they were and that you were an omega—I started weaning you off them in Madripoor.”

You blink at him in confusion, the words not quite sinking in. “What do you mean?”

“The injections you took while pregnant,” he explains slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, “were nothing but saline and a nonharmful scent that mimics chemicals. They couldn’t harm you or our child.”

The revelation hits you like a freight train. Relief floods through you so intensely that your knees buckle, and Zemo catches you effortlessly, pulling you into his embrace.

You break down completely then, sobs wracking your body as the tension and fear finally release their grip on you. You can’t find it in yourself to be mad at him anymore, or angry—not when he’s here now, holding you together when you feel like falling apart. He was the entire reason why you felt like you were falling apart, yet you still couldn't be mad at him.

His hands stroke your hair soothingly as he murmurs comforting words into your ear. “It’s okay,” he whispers over and over again. “I’ve got you now.”

You cling to him, drawing strength from his presence—your alpha, who is finally here with you.

Eventually, Zemo stands and helps you up gently, guiding you out of the room and into the hallway where Oeznik waits patiently.

“We’re going to a new safe house,” Zemo tells you softly as he leads you outside to a waiting car.

The drive is quiet to the airport but not uncomfortable; Zemo keeps one hand on yours the entire time as if reassuring both of you that this is real—that he’s really here. You are carefully helped onto the plane and directed to a seat where Zemo sits next to you.

The hum of the private jet's engines fills the cabin, a constant, soothing background noise as you sit beside Zemo. His hand never leaves yours, grounding you with his presence. Oeznik pilots the plane with practiced ease, guiding you through the clouds toward your destination.

Your heart races with anticipation and anxiety, a strange mix that leaves you breathless. So close, need nest. Nest. Zemo’s thumb strokes the back of your hand in slow, reassuring circles. You lean your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and letting the rhythmic motion of his touch calm your racing thoughts.

“We’ll be there soon,” Zemo murmurs softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod slightly, not trusting your voice to speak. Time bends to your addled mind, making the trip seem faster than it is. Oeznik’s voice crackles through the intercom.

“We’re approaching the landing strip.” When the plan lands, you bare barely unglue yourself from Zemo's side to exit the plan. Zemo squeezes your hand gently as he stands, guiding you to follow him. You grip his hand tightly, drawing strength from his presence as you make your way off the jet and into a waiting car.

The drive up the winding mountain roads is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. The Swiss Alps loom majestically around you, their snow-capped peaks glistening in the sunlight. Your mind drifts back to the conversation on the plane—the reassurance that everything will be okay now that he’s here.

Finally, the car pulls up to a secluded chalet nestled in a grove of pine trees. The air is crisp and clean, filled with the scent of pine and fresh snow. Zemo leads you inside without a word, his grip firm yet gentle as he guides you through the cozy interior.

The chalet feels like a sanctuary—warm wood tones and soft lighting creating an atmosphere of comfort and safety. Zemo’s scent is everywhere here, enveloping you in its rich, comforting embrace. He leads you up a staircase to a bedroom at the end of the hall. Your heart pounds in your chest as he opens the door and steps aside to let you enter first.

The sight before you takes your breath away. The room is dominated by a large bed piled high with blankets and pillows—a nest meticulously crafted and coated in Zemo’s scent. The air is thick with it, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

Zemo stands behind you, his presence a comforting weight. "I prepared this for you," he says softly, his voice filled with an emotion you can’t quite name. You turn to look at him, your eyes wide with gratitude and something deeper—something that makes your heart ache in a way that’s both painful and beautiful.

Without another word, you move to the nest, sinking down into the soft layers of blankets and pillows. The bed is vast and inviting, and you curl up in the center, pulling a blanket to your nose to breath in his scent. Zemo follows, sitting beside you and watching with an intensity that you don't register. You can't, your mind is only focused on his scent enveloping you. It's the perfect nest.

Date Published: 6/18/24

Last Edit: 6/18/24

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[goddess-venuz]

THEIR OMEGA CHP 3

STARING SILENTLY UP AT MIKEY WITH WIDE EYES...

Feeling your heart thumping against your ribcage-your secret you had desperately tried to hide for years finally came up to the surface and you couldn't hope for a worse timing.

Placing a hand against Mikey's chest while curling your fingers against the fold of your towel he had gripped, forcing your body from Mikey's, stumbling back instantly flying your hand up to your nostrils to pinch it.

"Why are you two idiots even here?!…A-And I don't know what you are talking about... Omega?"

"Do you really think we are stupid? Mikey already found your excuse of a masked perfume... I'm sure this was a new example you made?" Stepping towards your tall dresser, Izana's fingers curled around the small bottle you had made.

Irises gazing down at the bottle, tilting his head to the side with amusement gleaming across his irises-- unexpectedly he uncurled his fingers letting the bottle shatter on the impact of the title floor underneath him making your stomach twist with anxiety.

"Oops?~ Butter Fingers~"

"What the hell are you doing?!” Exhaling sharply, feeling your nostrils being overwhelmed with the mixture aroma of Ginger and Neroli both aroma battling against the other that made the air newly difficult to breathe to you.

Heat crawling across your flesh, chest tightening the sudden urge to move closer to the alphas nudging your body forward, sliding your feet backward until your back hit the wall beside your bathroom—

Taking note of your sudden change, your scent aroma only lures the Alphas closer to your wrapped up nude figure. Resting a palm beside your head, Mikey leaned closer, the scent of Neroli barely drowning out the ginger aroma from you could only assume-- Izana.

"All these years, you have lied to my face about being an Alpha?... All for what?"

"D-Don't come near me!-- Ah~" Moan erupts from your throat, interrupting from your words, feeling Mikey's knee between your thighs- brushing slightly against your heated slit.

Izana chuckled lowly, the other Alpha closing in on your left-- burying his nose and lips into the crook of your neck causing your skin to flare up in an indescribable heat. "Here I thought the rut wasn't supposed to come until tomorrow... Yet here you are all needy~"

"B-Because you both are in a rut and your scents-- mmm~"

Pressing your lips together feeling your heated slit becoming sensitive to Mikey's knee moving against it. The blonde Alpha has obvious difficulty keeping his composure at a minimum.

"So you did lie."

"No-" Gasping out a sharp moan feeling his knee being replaced with his fingers - at the early stages of your heat, you always had found it difficult to control your needy desires with these two scents throwing you into a day early for your first time around two Alphas, your body was only reacting on instincts.

Instincts you were unable to control.

"Y-Yes! Alright?! I fucking lied about being an Alpha because I didn't want to be marked!" Snapping at him, the fingers that held your nose fell on Izana's shoulder trying to pull your neck from his lips feeling his lower canines brushing against the nape of your neck.

"Such a Clever Naughty Omega... And here you could have already been mine from the beginning-"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Izana. After all, her hand was promised to me at the beginning."

Izana's heated gaze snapped to Mikey who mirrored his piercing gaze-- cackling lowly with a sarcastic smirk at the other. "You really want to challenge me right now Remember I was the one who came up with the plan."

"Plan...?... You bastards Planned this?” Hitching gasping out, your knees nearly buckling at the feeling of Mikey's finger rubbing against your clit.

Pressing your lips together firmly, tilting your head away exposing more of your neck that only drives the two Alphas more to the urge of dominating your trembling figure.

"I say let's break her in."

Fingers digging more into Izana's shoulders at Mikey's words, you felt Izana burying his lips against the nape of your neck, slyly smirking at your needy flustered expression. "I agree, we were supposed to have her first after all.. What do you think, Omega? Want these Alphas to help you with your heat?"

"You know that you won't be able to even make it through the night if you deny it." Mikey's voice lowered, a hint of husky lingering, his thumb rubbing your clit in circular motion making your shoulders roll at the sudden spiked sensation of pleasure that crawled over your flesh.

"What is your answer Omega?" Humming lowly, Izana dragged his tongue across the nape of your neck-- lightly digging his top canines into your flesh resulting in a shuttered gasp to leak off your lips.

"F…Fine..."

Muttering barely above a whisper, their scents overwhelming your need for your desires to be fulfilled.

That single word.. One word--Was enough to kick both men into high gear.

Within the next minutes, your towel was torn from your body-- your small figure carried to the bed the feeling of your still slightly soaked hair touching your sheets, your honey-rose aroma lifting into the air once your body came into contact with the bed.

Hazily gazing at the two Alphas who didn't hesitate to remove their clothing, their hungry gazes locked onto your nude body— your figure mesmerizing, burning into the back of their brains.

Kicking his pants from his ankles, his boxers being the only apparel remaining, Mikey licked his lips moving to his knees just at the edge of your bed, his fingers wrapping around your ankles-- pulling your body towards the edge of the bed.

Feeling your back being lifted, letting the half-nude Izana prop himself behind you, the Alpha burying his face into the crook of your neck- trapping both of your wrists into one hand as his other grasps your throat with a firm grip.

"W-Wait how is this even going to work— Mmph~"

Tiling your head back against Izana's shoulder feeling Mikey's tongue brushing between your folds, stroking his tongue against your wet slit-- the alpha hooked his arms underneath your legs, lifting your hips slightly giving him better access.

Sweet taste lingering across his taste buds, your honey essence making his gaze go blind with lust--dragging his tongue flatly to your swollen clit, he flicked his tongue resulting in a gentle moan rumbling up from your chest.

Rolling his tongue against your clit, taking the sensitive muscle between his lips-- a hitched gasped moan falls from your agape lips the sensation of pleasure bubbling across your flesh as Mikey sucked your bud.

"M-Mikey... Mikey!~"

Feeling Izana's hand that moved to underneath your chin, you felt the Alpha move his lips from the nape of your neck to your earlobe-- a smirk resting across his lips, his raspy voice barely reaching your ears as your mind become overwhelmed with the sudden urge of fulfilment.

"Such cute moans you're giving... Although it would sound better if it was my name instead~" Cooing out, his teeth nibbling at your earlobe.

Mikey's snapping his piercing gaze at Izana only receiving a taunting smirk from the other Alpha, a hint of possessiveness for your attention gleamed inside Mikey's irises.

Keeping his lips curled around your clit, the blonde- haired Alpha slipped a finger into your slit--Without hesitation-- he began to pump his finger, letting his finger curl gently against your walls that compulse around his fingers at the foreign feeling of his finger causing a pleasurable shiver to shoot up your spine.

Swallowing thickly, inhaling sharply - you leaned forward slightly in pleasure Izana's other hand that resting on your lower abdomen was the only thing keeping you from hunching from pleasure.

Moving his lips from your burning earlobe he had nibbled lightly, Izana moved his lips away, his lascivious gaze staring down at Mikey. "Manjiro. If you keep trying to hog her for yourself I will just take her for myself next time."

Pulling his lips away from your clit, Mikey's finger slowed down--much to your displeasure-- as his piercing gaze met Izana's. "Lil Omega doesn't seem to mind. She actually seemed to enjoy it quite well— that's until I fuck her."

"And who said you will be the first one?"

"It's Obvious, isn't it? I did."

"Fucking hell-- can you two not fucking argue and just fuck me already?!" Snapping impatiently at the two, Izana pressed his lips in thought-- "How about this. Whoever has her now... The other will take her back to their clan."

Your half-lidded eyes widened at Izana's words while Mikey had the opposite reaction, the make smirking he nods towards Izana.

"Deal."

"W-Wait! I never agree to this--"

Voice captured in your throat as your body was flipped-- landing on your stomach as Izana had moved from behind you and off the bed, both Alphas removing their last piece of clothing.

"Shit.. I don't even have a condom."

"I never use them. They are a damn turn-off."

Mikey rolled on the bed, the male laying on his back gazing at you upside down with a small grin "Don't worry, I'll have you all to myself then we could play catch-up~" winking at you, The man moved on his knees as you lift yourself-- your palms resting on the bed.

"What makes you think I will go with you--" The unexpected sensation of Izana's cock brushing against your folds instantly made your inner Omega drown out your sharp remarks.

Fingertips digging into your waist, Izana's chest rises-- the male trying to keep his calm composure as he feels the heat from your slit brushing against his tip. "You're fucking lucky he is here or I might not be able to control myself..." muttering lowly, slipping his cock through your folds-- a wave of pleasure bursting across his flesh, Izana's eyebrows knitted the Alpha pressing his lips firmly together to hold his moans at bay as you gripped the sheets underneath you.

Fully sheathing his cock into you, Izana exhaled sharply releasing the breath he didn't realize he was holding in. Snapping his hips moving your body with each sharp thrust his Pelvis made.

Moaning out, your chest rising and falling at a steady pace unable to hold back your moans-- you gazed up at Mikey who propped himself on his knees, The Alpha stroking his cock "I think it's time for a little payment for me eating you out."

Parting your lips, sticking your tongue out--grasping Mikey's hardened cock, licking over his swollen tip making the Alpha's shoulders tensed up— his shoulders steadily dropping, his eyes glued watching you take his length into your mouth.

Inhaling sharply through his nostrils, feeling your head bobbing to Izana's thrusts, parting his lips just barely, letting a low moan rose from his throat.

Combing his fingers through your -now damped-locks, gripping your hair at its roots, Mikey moved his hips to desperately match your pace.

"Damn~... Look at how you're taking my cock so well...”

Izana cursed underneath his breath, a low laugh falling from his lips he tilted his head to the aids slightly. "Did you just squeeze around me? How cute~"

Mikey groaned out your name, your lips wrapped around his cock.

Your hand stroked the reminder of his cock you were unable to fit into your mouth, stroking, squeezing lightly, each time your tongue brushed against the veins of his cock, they pulsed against your tongue.

Parting your mouth more, feeling the Alpha's grip tightened around your locks, bobbing your head against his pelvis- making you swallow the reminder length of his cock.

A muffled gag-moan vibrated from your throat, Mikey's chest heaving gently-- the Alpha unable to hold his desires from clouding his gaze.

A choked-sob moan ripped from Mikey's throat, feeling his lower abdomen feeling an ache to release.

Just the feeling of your throat snug around his cock made him moan out, his head tilted back slightly, chest beginning to heave, "This feels too damn good--.."

Feeling his cock twitch against your throat, the small droplets of pre-cum coating your tongue, another moan vibrated from your throat feeling the tip of Izana's cock hitting a spot within you nearly making your vision go white.

Growling lowly he began to use you to chase his pleasurable high, as Izana made you bounce roughly on his cock you couldn't help but release tired moans as you could feel the familiar knot tightening up in your lower abdomen.

Mikey tilts his head back down, his black irises meeting your half-lidded gaze- nearly enough to drive the Alpha to his edge, he released a shakily chuckle as he rolled his hips at a faster pace- chasing his high until he pulls your lips to his pelvis, his cock twitching in your mouth.

His tip hitting the back of your throat, spurts of cum coating your throat.

His grip slowly releasing from your hair, his breathing heavily as he pulls his cock from your mouth a trail of salvia along with the thin coat of salvia lingering on his cock. Sitting down, Mikey places his hands behind himself as he tries to catch his breath, exhaling out with a small cough-- a sharp moan falling from your lips.

Arms falling, your face buried into your sheets as you gripped the covers shakily-- your trembling figure laying on the bed, Izana holding your hips as his cock continued to stroke your walls.

Head resting to the side, a small pool of drool falling from your lips-- staining the sheets underneath you.

"Hah... Hah... Izana~ Oh God..."

Moaning out weakly, your heat crashing over you, the overwhelming feeling of baring your teeth into your soulmate as they do the way peeked. "Izana!~"

A whimper-like moan escaping from your lips, pressing your forehead against the bed as your hips bucked against his thrusts--

Izana's fingers slip between your bodies and mercilessly rubs your clit, overloading until the orgasm you have been needing shoots through you and the sensations were nearly unbearable as you moaned out his name.

Feeling your walls tightened around his cock, your warmth and cum coating his length-- Izana gritted his teeth firmly nearly killing the male to pull out.

Pulling his twitching cock, a groan erupts past his lips, spurts of cum coating your lower back, once the two of you come down from your high, his fingertips that dug into your waist slowly releases you letting your tired figure fall on top of your bed.

Chest heaving, in desperate need to catch your breath-- both Alphas gazed down at your body only a small percentage of their satisfaction fulfill. "You know……until she is marked…. She's going to be in heat." Izana says through his pants.

Mikey hummed out lowly, the Alpha tilting his head, his irises gleamed with amusement "Shouldn't be too hard… She has to choose between the two of us--"

"When you take her with you, your clan will no doubt smell her."

"They won't touch her because Lil Omega will be all mine in my bedroom~ There's no way they will even find out."

Their muffled conversation barely reached Draken's ears, The Alpha who held his back against the door-- beads of sweat glistening down his face as it took everything in the man not to burst through the door just to take you.

'(Y/n) is an Omega…unmarked… Shit...'

[p-artsypants]

Paint it Black (9) Changing

Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City's crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a relation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself? Actually, contains NO OC.

Ao3 | FF.net

The door to the ops room swooshed open, and they all turned to look.

Black stood in the doorway, wearing another crudely made mask. “Hey guys, guess who I am?!” 

“Robin?” 

“Wow, yeah!” He took the mask off and looked at it. “Did I do that good of a job?” 

Starfire made steps towards him, the first few heavy, like she was carrying the weight of the world. “Robin…” Her steps became lighter and faster. “ROBIN!” She cried and flew the last few feet to collide with him in a hug, bringing him off the floor and spinning him around.

He held onto her by instinct, but looked to the others, confused. “Did I do something?”

“Robin, it is I! Starfire!” She cried, looking him in the face. “Do you not remember me?”

“I…know who you are,” he blinked a few times. “Were we not just doing crafts a few minutes ago?” 

“Star, he’s not going to regain his memories just because we know who he is.” 

“But! But you must remember me! You told me when we first reunited that I reminded you of someone you used to know, and that is I! I remind you of myself! Please, Robin! Think of all the times we watched the sunsets and the sunrises on the rooftop! And when we raced into battle together, and I flew you in! Or all the times you saved me and likewise I saved you!” She rubbed her hand over her eyes. “You taught me so much about Earth! I learned English from you! Please remember Robin! Please, I am desperate!” 

He gave a hapless shrug. “Sorry, I think you're cool and all, but I just met you like a month ago.” He smirked and waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe a smooch will jog my memories?” 

“Black!” Raven scolded. “Not appropriate!” 

He pouted. 

Starfire stood in front of him, tears continuing to roll down her cheeks. She reached up and held his face. 

He gave her a polite but vacant smile. 

She reached with one hand and covered his eyes, then with the other, she covered the scar on his cheek with her thumb.

It became obvious then. 

Starfire collapsed on him, wailing. 

Black stood frozen as she had her meltdown, but eventually decided to hug her back. Hearing her sorrow stirred up inside of him that made him nauseous. “Please don’t cry, Starfire,” he asked. 

“Even your voice is different,” she sobbed. “But I can hear you when you are being serious.” 

Black didn’t understand what she meant by that. But threw a look over to the other Titans that said ‘help’. 

Each of them decided it was best to just leave Starfire alone. She deserved to be able to hug him, and it was probably good for him. 

Gizmo had been quietly observing everything, before he spoke up. “You’re telling me this barf brain is Robin? No way!” 

“I agree with Mr. Magoo,” Black said. 

“Hey!” 

“You all believe that I’m Robin? THE Robin? The guy you all have been looking for?” 

“All evidence points to it,” Raven said. 

Black stuck his pinky in his ear. “Nah. I don’t really see it.” He avoided eye contact with them. 

“It doesn’t really matter if you believe it yet, but it is the truth.” 

He scrunched up his lips. “Can I say something and you guys not get mad at me? Because you were so nice to let me into your house and be my friend and give me undies even though they didn’t have Spiderman on them—” 

Starfire rested her hands over his. “Please, what is on your mind?” 

“I think you guys just want me to be Robin because it’s convenient. I don’t have my memories, and I might look a little like him…”

“Black,” Raven said sternly. “We know. We have proof now. I know you’ve mentioned that you don’t like the person you were before. We’re going to get to the bottom of this. What happened to you. You want to be Robin. He’s the best person we know.” 

Cyborg walked over to Gizmo and handed something over. “Thanks for your services. Now, we have work to do, so why don’t you see yourself out?” 

“Wow! 100 bucks!” He gave him a questioning look. “That’s more than a couple pizzas.”

“You did us a huge favor.” 

Gizmo smiled as he tucked the money away. “Alright! Easiest money I ever made! Later Butt Brains! Later Crazy Robin!” 

“Bye Cabbage Patch Kid!” Black waved.

Gizmo blew him a raspberry as he left. 

Cyborg went to the computer.

“Whatcha doing?” Beast Boy asked, only minimally interested. 

“Writing an email.” 

“To who?” Asked Black. “To Robin’s mommy?”

“...Robin doesn’t have a mother,” Raven huffed.

“But we know the next best thing,” said Cyborg, “his guardian, Batman.” 

Black barked out a laugh. “Batman? What kind of name is that?”   

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you,” Beast Boy said. “The man is…not a joke.” 

Black rolled his eyes. 

“Cyborg has it right. If anyone can crack this nut, it would be Batman,” said Raven. 

“If anything, I’m a legume.” 

“If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to try and read your mind again. I can try to tap into the memories that are painful for you. Then you wouldn’t have to remember them yourself.” 

“But Raven,” Starfire lamented. “Have you not tried this twice before?” 

“Third time's the charm. If I can get him calm and focused enough, then we might have a chance.” 

Black sighed exaggeratedly. “Fine. What do you want me to do?” 

“Come over here,” she commanded, leading him up to the ledge by the window. 

Starfire followed quietly, while Beast Boy just watched from the couch. 

“Sit like I do.” Raven crossed her legs, and rested her hands on her knees. 

Starfire mimicked the action next to her. 

Black, facing them, took the position and frowned. “Mmmm, this isn’t comfortable. Can I do this instead?” He took off his shoes and bent his legs so that his toes were basically touching his hips, the lotus position. 

“That’s more comfortable?!” Beast Boy squawked. 

“If you find it more comfortable, then that’s fine. Now, repeat after us…Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos…” 

“Azar…Aziz…Azerum…Methodone…Mentos.” 

Raven opened one unamused eye. 

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” 

“No. Why don’t you pick three words that mean something to you? Three things to focus on.” 

“Can I pick four?” 

“I don’t see why not.” 

“Okay.” He placed his hands on the floor and pushed up, bringing his legs off the ground. He flipped upside down, almost doing a handstand, but used his forearms instead of his hands. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Then he started chanting, “Starfire…Beast Boy…Raven…Cyborg…Starfire…Beast Boy…Raven…Cyborg…” 

Silently, everyone just stared at him, gobstruck, and a bit flattered. 

Raven focused on that feeling as she closed her own eyes and whispered, “Azarath…Metrion…Zinthos…” 

She made contact. The first time since meeting ‘Black’, she was able to touch his mind. 

Robin’s mind had been a place she had visited once, when Slade haunted him in the dark. Then, his memories had been in flashes and she hadn’t had time to dwell on them, but she saw them clearly. 

These images were different. Fuzzy, muffled, forcibly suppressed. They were almost indiscernible from the whiteness that surrounded her. 

“Robin!” She called. 

Her voice echoed in the empty space. 

She pushed further, deeper, probing for anything to help. There were a few, just a handful of memories she could comprehend, but it wasn’t worth it. The visions from the tapes had only been the tip of the iceberg. 

She saw that other boy, that Justin Krieger, holding a knife up in the light of a stark lightbulb. A flash, and he was on the ground and blood was everywhere. She could physically feel the pain he felt in his face. And just as she found the memory, it slipped away. Nothing was concrete in this place. 

Maybe Robin wouldn’t respond to his superhero name. Maybe it was too painful? She called out again, “Richard Grayson!” 

She heard footsteps. A quiet tap tap tap of little feet. 

“Richard!” She called again. 

“Raven?!” A young voice called back. 

“Yes, it’s me!” 

“RAVEN!” His scream was heartbreaking. Running through the blank whiteness like it was fog, a young boy, maybe 8 years old, appeared. He ran right to her and hugged her, crying into her stomach. 

“Robin?”

“I wanna go home!” He cried. 

“We want you to come home.” She had a sense of Deja Vu then, of when Robin came for her, at the end of the world. When she was helpless. He had hope for her then, so she would have hope for him now. No matter how annoying this new persona was, no matter how long it took, she’d get him back. 

“I’m scared! I don’t like it here!” 

“Robin, listen to me,” she said very seriously, kneeling to look into his eyes. “This place is your mind. It belongs to you. You own it.” 

He shook his head as he wiped his eyes. “You don’t understand! They did something…they gave me something!” 

“What? And who?!” 

Before he could answer, he disappeared from her arms. Vanishing like a vapor. 

“Richard! Robin, please come back!” 

The whiteness she was surrounded by suddenly turned black and all the memories around her turned crystal clear. Horrible things, worse than she feared, circled around her. Once upon a time, she had imagined only Trigon capable of such horrors. Oh how wrong she was. 

A hideous face, disfigured, and covered in makeup appeared in front of her. 

“Now, which one of you are we dealing with today?” He held up a syringe filled with a green liquid.  

Raven was forcibly shoved out of Robin’s mind and physically fell out of the air. 

“Raven?” Starfire asked. 

Raven felt sick. She staggered on wobbly legs to the trash can and vomited. 

Black remained in his pose. 

“Well…?” Beast Boy asked softly, “what did you see?” 

Raven rested her head on the counter, weak, dizzy, reeling. “I saw Robin.” 

Starfire gasped. “He is in there?” 

“Yeah. Faintly. Everything is a haze for him. He…” She sighed, trying to figure out how to explain it. “I saw him as a little boy. I don’t know if that’s how he views himself, or how I perceived the small fragment of him left.” 

As the Titans were focused on Raven, they didn’t notice Black roll forward back onto his feet. He silently put his shoes back on. Then, he jumped down from the ledge and started heading towards Raven. 

“Ah! Black! Did the mind reading help?” Starfire asked, hopeful. 

He ignored her, and went straight up to Raven. His face tilted down so that his eyes were partially obscured. He grabbed a fistful of her cape by the collar and yanked her close. 

Raven startled for a moment by the action. 

“Stay. Out. Of. My. Head.” He bit. He shoved her back, and shouldered past her into the hall.   

Starfire rested a hand on Raven’s shoulder. “Do not be despaired by his words. He does not truly mean it.” 

But Raven didn’t seem to dwell on it. Instead, she called back, “Cyborg, when you’ve finished with that email, could you perform a blood test on Robin?” 

“For what?” 

“Everything.” 

—

Batman, 

We found Robin. He’s extremely sick in the head and has amnesia. We originally met him about a month ago, each of us on separate patrols. He has a large scar on his face, and doesn’t wear a mask, whereas we had never seen him without a mask. We didn’t recognize him. He’s been playing vigilante with petty criminals, and goes by the name ‘Black’. 

We received a SD card from a man named ‘Jim Baker’, who we still have not identified. On the card were a series of videos recorded by Robin from wherever he was held the last few months. He hid a secret message to us, but Beast Boy figured it out. He would sing songs from the band Radiohead, and when identified, the song titles read out a message. Through this, we were able to determine that ‘Black’ was truly Robin. 

I have attached the videos, and Beast Boy’s notes on the message. We want you to know that the videos are very disturbing and painful to watch. 

The first message Robin left us were directions to his notes on his case. He was volunteering at the Jump City hospital as ‘Richard Grayson’. We assume that is his real name, though he never told us. There was a program at the hospital called ‘Project: Duality’ that was supposed to treat mental patients from low income homes. It seemed like not only did Robin find it suspicious, but so did a parent of a hopeful candidate. He applied to the program to go undercover, and that’s where he went missing. 

I’ve also attached all the documents we found.

In summary, Dr. Jack White was leading the program for his private mental hospital. All the candidates were orphans, and therefore wouldn’t be missed when he inevitably kidnapped them in the middle of night and disappeared without a trace. Dr. Jack White does not exist, and neither does his hospital. Our trail has run cold here. 

Robin, or Black as he prefers, is difficult, stubborn, and prone to flights of fancy. He’s easily distracted, and seems to be working very hard to suppress all of his memories up until about a month ago. He has moments of kindness and interest in friendship, and he trusts us enough to stay in the tower. 

We are watching over him now, but I’m not sure what can be done. 

I must also mention he has an opioid addiction, and we’re working on waning him off. 

Eager to hear what you think, 

Cyborg

—

Starfire knocked on his door. “Robin?” 

He didn’t answer. 

“Black?” 

He sobbed. 

Starfire took the initiative to open his door. 

Black laid on his bed, face down. He had his shirt off, and that gnarly tattoo still made her sick. 

“Cyborg wishes to perform a blood test on you,” she said simply. “Will you come with me?” 

He weakly pushed up onto his arms. “Do you hate me?” He asked, quietly. 

She reeled back, offended at the notion. “No. Why would you say such a thing?” 

“Because I’m not Robin, and you want me to be. And I don’t want to be.” 

“It is…heartbreaking to hear you do not wish to be your normal self. But I do not hate you for it.” 

He frowned, his mouth shifting. It was like she had completely ignored the fact he said he wasn’t Robin. 

She wrapped her hands around his arm and tugged lightly. “Come, we will have the blood test performed. When it shows that you are Robin, will you believe us?” 

He scoffed. “Do I have a choice?” 

She smiled and tugged him down the hall. 

In the med bay, Black sat on the bed obediently, but his head lolled to one side. 

“Alright, we just need a little blood draw,” Cyborg pulled up a stool and tray in front of him. 

Black saw the vials and IV needles and recoiled harshly. “No!” 

“Hey hey,” Cyborg grabbed his arm. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just a little prick.” 

Black turned almost completely away from him, and attempted to lay down on the bed. “Can’t you just like…magic it out of me?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Raven said with sympathy. “It won’t hurt.” 

“I can’t look…”

“Okay, then don’t look.” Cyborg cleaned his arm with an alcohol swab and Black jolted his arm at the cold touch. “This is just to clean it.” 

“I hate needles. I hate hate hate them!” Black was near tears.

“I know,” said Raven. “Because needles mean pain and burning.” 

Black only nodded against the sheets. 

Starfire took his other hand. “Perhaps you should think the most happy thoughts! You could think of kittens, or perhaps pizza, or maybe—”

“The first time I met all of you.” 

Cyborg pricked him while Starfire distracted him. 

“Yeah…” Beast Boy tried to help. “Remember when you grabbed me when I was a cat? You were hanging upside down on a fire escape and you scared the pants off me!” 

Raven added, “I remember catching you covering graffiti down by the shipyard. I was proud of you for that.” 

“All done,” Cyborg said, putting a bandaid on Black’s arm. 

“Oh thank God!” Black wept, holding his arm to his chest. 

“Let’s get this into the computer,” Cyborg took the sample and headed to the next room. 

Black just laid on the bed, rather lethargic. In the time they had known this new persona, Black wasn’t prone to sitting still. But he just lay there, tapping his hands on the mattress. 

“Got a match,” said Cyborg, with a sigh. “DNA confirms it. This is Robin.” 

Black let out a low, long moan. 

“And?” Raven pressed. 

“And, he’s positive for a dozen or so toxins. Not just trace amounts either. He’s doped up on a bunch of junk. Junk that should have moved out of his system by now or killed him.” 

“Junk like what?” Asked Beast Boy. 

“Sulfuric Acid, glycol, acetone, toluene, ammonia, and benzene.”  

“Am I supposed to know what those are?” 

“Acid, for one thing, antifreeze, paint thinners, drain cleaner, and benzene is used in lethal injections to kill people.”

Beast Boy swallowed thickly. “...and Robin has all that in his body?” 

“Yeah. Remember that video we saw where his veins were visible?” 

“Or the one where the boy puked up blood and died?” Raven growled.  

“I’d have to do a little research, but I’m sure a cocktail of all that would cause major brain damage to a person.” 

Starfire pet Black’s hair with a heavy heart. “Can he…be cured? Is there an antidote?” 

Cyborg shrugged. “I couldn’t say at this point.” Before he could elaborate further, his arm rang. “Oh, Batman’s calling.” 

Black scoffed and sat up, pulling his legs up to lean on them. 

Cyborg answered the call on the monitor in the med room. 

“Cyborg,” Batman greeted just as cool as normal. His eyes narrowed. “That him?” 

“Yes sir,” Cyborg clapped a hand on Black’s back. “He seems pretty adamant that he isn’t Robin, though.” 

Batman just looked at Black, narrowing his eyes, scrutinizing him. Finally, he asked, “Dick?”

Black frowned. Then he grabbed his crotch. “Yeah, I think so.” 

Beast Boy snorted. 

“Your name.” 

“My name is Black, but you can call me—” 

“Richard. Your name is Richard John Grayson.” 

“And who are you? The Bunny Man?”

The Titans all held their breath, waiting for Batman’s reaction. He wasn’t known for his sense of humor. 

“I’m Batman.” 

“Then why do you have long ears like a bunny?” 

“Bats have big, long ears too,” he said it so calmly, it was awe inspiring.

“Or you could be a cat,” said Black, bobbing his head dumbly. “They have pointy ears.” 

“They do,” Batman agreed. “Cyborg, I haven’t watched the videos or read the documents yet, but I wanted to call you. I would like to come and work with Robin, see if I can get him to remember anything. It will take me a few days to get over there, as I have to do some clean up here in Gotham.” 

“Did something spill, Mr. Batman?” Starfire asked, innocently.

“Yes, Arkham Asylum. Several of my worst foes are missing, and I want to try to get some leads before I leave.” 

“You don’t have to come,” said Black. “I’m perfectly content not changing anything about myself.” 

The team ignored him. “Batman, I just performed a blood test on him. It turns out he’s got a cocktail of poison in his system.” 

Batman frowned harder. “Send me those results.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“We’ll be there in a few days. In the meantime, I’m going to send an order to your branch of Wayne Enterprises for medical supplies. Rob––Black, please be honest with us. What is your opioid consumption like? How much? What kind?” 

Black tilted his head and thought. “Hmm, I usually did Fentanyl, since that’s what everyone on the street was dealing. When I beat them up, I’d take their stash.” 

Cyborg shook his head, remembering the first time he met Black. 

“I tried doing cocaine for a little bit, because that’s what I had on hand. Woof, that was a bad idea! I still feel bad for that duck pond.” 

“How. Much.” Batman pressed. 

“Uh…not too much. I know it’s lethal. I crushed up some tums to mix in with it. So when I feel the ‘not goods’, I’d lick my finger and dip it into the baggy and rub it on my gums. When the bag was close to empty, I’d snort it.” 

“I’m going to cry,” said Beast Boy. 

“Alright, Cyborg, I’m going to order some low dose tablets. I want you to monitor his activity. When he starts asking for the medicine, give him one. Don’t exceed more than two a day, and try to get him taking them at the same time everyday. We want to regulate him. Don’t wean him off just yet.”

Raven was the only one who saw Black heave a sigh of relief.    

“Uh, sir?” Beast Boy squeaked. “You said ‘we’ are coming. Who is ‘we’?” 

Batman huffed. Not in annoyance, but rather resolute in his decision. “I’m bringing my butler along.” 

“Dude, Batman has a butler?” Beast Boy nudged Cyborg. 

“Yes, I do.” Batman snipped. “Alfred has been with my family since I was a child. He raised me, and he helped me raise Robin. He’ll be an important asset in his recovery.” 

“Robin’s got a Peepaw?” Black asked. 

“If that’s your way of asking if Robin has a grandfather then yes, basically.” 

The four sane Titans felt slightly embarrassed on Robin’s behalf. 

“We’ll see you all soon. Take care.” And Batman ended the call. 

“He seems like a nice lad,” said Black, a dopey smile on his face.

[downwiththeficness]

A Need Unleashed Ch. 8

Summary: Horacio Carrillo was a man of control...until he wasn’t. His  carefully regimented life begins to change the second he scents Eva Moore, an unobtrusive omega whose secrets lead the two of them into dangerous territory. Horacio must protect her at all costs while battling a fierce need that threatens to bring him to his knees.  

Word Count: ~4000

Warnings: Graphic sex, masturbation, questionable decisions

Taglist:  @littleone65     @supersanelyromantic      @sistasarah-sallysaidso    

A/N: It is recommended that you read A Need So Great prior to reading this story. There is context and additional information in that fic that influences how this fic is understood. This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence, and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.

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Start at the beginning

The water was freezing, so cold that Horacio shivered beneath the spray. He grit his teeth, forcing himself to stand there and take it. It was the only thing that might help him to regain some form of equilibrium after a week in hell.

When his face began to numb, he reached forward and turned the knob to the off position. His breaths were shallow and fast. He wiped the water from his face and rubbed harshly at his eyes. The icy shower should have shocked the sharp edge of anger out of him, but another feeling remained. Simmering just beneath his skin, it paced and growled, demanding to be appeased.

He failed.

Again.

Horacio failed to catch Escobar even though he had relatively good information from a reliable source. A week holed up in a tent with his men, no running water, and inhospitable weather—wasted.

He didn’t know who tipped them off that Horacio was closing in on the hidden processing center and it was unlikely that he would ever find out. It had to be someone from the department, one of the people he was supposed to be trusting with his life. A damned, stinking, mole.

He wanted to shoot something.

He wanted to get in a fight—a knock down, drag out fight.

He wanted bruised knuckles and blood under his nails.

Dripping, Horacio reached for his towel and swiped it over his limbs carelessly. He should call Eva. It wasn’t too late and it might do him some good to lay down with her tonight.

No.

Not a good idea.

Horacio was too on edge right now to be with her—had been too on edge even before he’d left her apartment. The drive to work after their last night together was agony. It took ten minutes of sitting in the parking lot to convince himself to walk inside for the meeting. And, once he realized that he wasn’t going to make it back to her, Horacio closed himself up in his office and sat with his head in his hands until he could make the call to tell Eva.

His thoughts over the last week were so focused on her that it bordered on obsessive. If he wasn’t actively working on the mission, Horacio was going over one of their many nights together, or thinking about what she might be doing at that moment, or calculating the number of minutes until he could see her again. He spent endless hours fantasizing about the way her hands tugged at his hair when she came.

And, he couldn’t do anything about it.

Not one. Damn. Thing.

Every second of every day, Horacio was surrounded by his unit. He slept next to them, ate next to them, pissed in the same bushes. Under normal circumstance, he wouldn’t think twice about it. But, Horacio was so keyed up he could barely function.

There was once a time when Horacio would sneer at alphas that couldn’t stand to be away from their omegas for too long. A man used to his privacy, he could hardly imagine wanting to be around someone all day, every day. Living with another person was unthinkable once he could afford to pay his bills on his own. The women he dated rarely stayed more than a day or two at a time at his place.

It was the way Horacio liked it.

Now, he understood what those alphas were going through.

God help him, he understood.

After dressing, Horacio gathered up his sweat and dirt stained clothing before heading back to his office. There would be some forms to fill out before the debriefing next week. He could get a start on them so that he wasn’t behind come Monday morning. Tomorrow, he would call Eva. Maybe he would take her out to dinner as an apology for leaving so abruptly.

He spotted her long before he got to the door of his office. She was leaning over his desk, mumbling to herself. Dressed in a soft yellow sundress that clung to her hips and flared around her knees, Eva’s hair concealed her face. Her scent billowed out from the room, both calming and inflaming him as he approached.

Startled by the scuff of his shoe, Eva spun around, saying, “Hey.”

Her skin was glowing under the unforgiving lights. Her lips spread in an inviting smile that had him clenching the clothes in his hands. The neckline of her dress was low enough that he could see the soft swell of her breasts. Horacio was so struck by how pretty she was that he was slow to respond.

The word, ‘hi’, came out all wrong.

Her smile faltered, “I brought you something to eat. I figured you’re only been eating MREs for the last week and you might like some food.”

She brought him food.

He leaves for a week with no contact and she brought him food. The twisting restlessness from a mission going awry shifted into a need that he knew wasn’t going to be denied a moment longer.

Setting down the bundle of clothes, Horacio closed the door, thumb flicking down over the lock. There weren’t many of his men left in the building, but he didn’t want any possibility of one of them interrupting him. Not until he’d had his fill.

Head canted down, Horacio approached slowly. The smell of savory food wafted towards him along with the warm spice of Eva. She watched him silently as he moved closer, lips parted. The image of her upturned face tugged hard at his instincts, made him want get a good grip and hold tight.

When he reached her, Horacio threaded his arms around her waist and hauled her into his chest. He pushed his face into her neck and breathed deeply. He missed her. Had missed her all week. Eva gasped as her head fell back and it pleased him that she offered him access so easily.

“I missed you,” he said aloud.

Her arms were heavy on his shoulders, her weight leaned into him, “I missed you, too.”

Horacio’s body pleaded with him for more contact, ablaze with every touch. He inhaled through his mouth, letting her scent roll over his tongue. Eyes falling on the desk behind her, he considered urging her back onto it and hiking up her skirt so that he could plant kisses up her thighs.

“How did the mission go? Did you catch him?”

All the air went out of him as he was reminded how he’d fallen short, “No, we didn’t. We did get a few key players, but that’s it.”

Eva’s hands ran soothingly over his arms to the nape of his neck where she kneaded lightly, “I’m sorry.”

He touched his forehead to hers, “Not your fault.”

“I know, but I’m sorry all the same.”

Her hands kept moving, loosening some of the stress he was carrying. Horacio groaned as she pressed against a particularly tough knot and rubbed in circles.

“I want to kiss you,” he murmured without thought, “Can I?”

She smiled, as if he didn’t even need to ask, “Yes.”

Not sure of how he would react, Horacio started with a small kiss. He was so stupid to think he could handle it. Not when he just went through a week of yearning for her. Horacio leaned down to press his lips to hers properly. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her to her toes. All of his attention narrowed to the way bowed arched forward and the feeling of her breasts pushing into his chest.

“I want to touch you.”

The words were almost a rasp and very quiet. He guided Eva to the couch where he sat down so that he could pull her into his lap. Then, because she hadn’t told him it was okay, he waited. The hesitation cost him, sharpened the need inside his body until he thought it might cut him wide open from within.

Eva blinked rapidly, as if she had forgotten the question. Then, “Yes.”

He kissed her fervently and with no finesse. He wasn’t so much seeking to seduce as he was attempting to satisfy the urgent demand to get at more of her. Hands moving up her thighs, he reached under her dress only to be stopped short by the cinched waistband. Loosing a frustrated growl, he yanked down the zipper and pulled down the bodice.

Palming her breasts, Horacio took half a second to appreciate the sheer fabric of her bra. Her nipples puckered beneath his thumbs, drawing him down so that he could roll his tongue over them. When he dragged his teeth over one, Eva keened, low and throaty.

Her body dropped heavily onto him and her hips moved in a stilted rhythm. Horacio could smell his own hormones as they coalesced into searing arousal. All the pent up anger from half an hour previous working itself up into a hard, driving hunger.

Eva’s lips encircled his scent gland, sucking hard. He gave a strangled sound, hips lifting so that he could grind his cock into her. Her answering whine made him card his fingers into her hair and pull. She groaned loudly—loud enough that someone might hear.

“Hush,” he breathed, even though he could not give a single fuck who heard them, “Have to be quiet, Eva. There’s still others here.” He kissed her, his next sentence coming out in a cajoling tone, “Do you want me to stop?”

Eva shook her head. Her hair fell over her shoulders and her scent washed over him, anew. His sweet, beautiful omega. It had been too long since they were together, too long since he could drown himself in her.

“I want to be inside you.”

The words were urgent. Honest. Forced from his mouth even though he knew better than to tempt himself like this.

“Yes!”

He nipped at her, one hand working on his belt. Eva’s hands fisted in his shirt as he pushed the waistband down far enough to free his erection. It bobbed between them, swollen and already leaking. Eva took no time at all to pull her panties aside and sink down.

She dropped all the way to the base in a smooth, fluid movement that Horacio had never, never, experienced before. Pleasure rocketed up from his balls all the way to the tip of his cock and back down again. His face scrunched with the effort it took to keep from yelling. Eva threw back her head, biting down on a sigh that wanted to become a moan.

“Fuck,” he breathed, staring at where they were joined. He pulled her down for a kiss, speaking words against her mouth, “I thought about you every day. Woke up hard for you. Couldn’t even get myself off because there was no fucking privacy.”

The early mornings were the most difficult. Horacio would lay there, hard and aching to come, thinking about waking up next to her. Thinking about sliding down between the sheets and bringing her off while she was somewhere between sleep and consciousness.

Eva started moving, twisting her hips the way she knew he liked. Horacio met her, bracing his feet against the floor so that he could fuck up into her hard and fast.

“I want—,” he cut off the end of that sentence. This was going too far, too fast. He had to slow down. His body refused to obey the orders of his mind. He couldn’t stop moving, pushing towards an orgasm that had been long denied.

She cupped his jaw, forced him to look at her, “What do you want?”

He couldn’t ask for that. Horacio could not ask for that.

Her hips slowed as she waited. He buried face in her neck to get away from her entreating eyes. Horacio fought with himself, fought to keep from fucking her the way his body was demanding of him.

It was a kind of torture that he couldn’t resist, “I want…”

Eva made him look at her, “Tell me what you want.” She kissed him softly, “Tell me.”

Horacio lost the battle. He never even had a chance, “I want to come inside you.”

Just saying the words made him feel like he was half a second away from coming. The thought of coating her walls with his spend, of how she would walk around afterwards with it dripping out of her, was irresistible.

Her next words shocked the hell out of him, “Yes, alpha.”

Eyes flying open, every muscle in his body flew into action. Horacio wrapped his arms around Eva and held her immobile as he stared at her, “Say it again.”

He needed to hear it again. Needed to know that it was real.

Eva repeated it with a gasp, followed by, “Please, alpha.”

Ah, fuck.

He snarled, rotating so that he could push her down on the couch beside him. Crawling over her, Horacio reached under her dress and yanked off her panties, throwing them to the side. He dropped his hips and shoved back inside where he belonged.

“Feel so good,” he grunted, “So fucking good.”

Horacio wasn’t sure what, exactly, he said after that, but he knew what he was doing. His hands held her still so that he could thrust hard into her heat. She gripped him tight, but the angle wasn’t right. His cock could get much, much deeper. He grit his teeth—needed more leverage. Reaching up, he grabbed the arm of the couch, using it to ground his movements.

The pace was frantic, and it was a God damn miracle that she came before he did. The feeling of her bearing down on him made Horacio want to suck bruises all over her chest and neck so that anyone who saw her would know exactly what they’d done.

Sweet fucking omega.

He poured a week’s worth of come into her, holding his hips hard against her so that not a single drop would be wasted. And, when he could see again, Horacio nosed along her neck, scenting her satisfaction before licking the sweat from her skin.

It took serious willpower to pull out, and he only accomplished it by telling himself that he needed to see her pussy coated in his spend. And, fuck, was it a pretty, pretty sight. He ran two fingers up her slit, gathering some of the slick and pushing it back inside.

Eva breathed a shuddering breath as he stirred his fingers inside her. She grabbed his forearm, her jaw dropping as he proceeded to lick them clean. The taste of her made him want to start all over again.

A bit dizzy, Horacio tucked himself back into his uniform and buckled his belt. Then, he helped her to ease the bodice of her dress back up over her shoulders. Kneeling at her feet, his eyes caught on the thin fabric of her panties. He picked them up with one hand, the other pushing her knees wide so that he could have another look at her.

Just the sight of her pussy made his mouth water. How had he lasted this long without it? He dove down and swiped his tongue over hot flesh. Sweet, sweet omega. Leaning into her curls, Horacio sucked lovingly on her clit, eliciting a hiss. He swirled his tongue over her as his hand tightened on her panties.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He wanted her again. His cock was already hardening behind his fly. Lifting away, Horacio palmed himself as he cast her a desperate look. He’d just come and he knew he could go again right fucking now. Horacio hadn’t been able to go two rounds back to back for years.

His mind flashed to the night before he left. He assumed that it was the tension of being able to see Eva dressed in nothing but a bathing suit and not being able to touch her that made him act against his better judgment. But, here he was, fucking her in his office—wanting more than anything to fuck her again.

He needed a minute. He needed an inch of space so that he could think clearly.

Rising, Horacio paced away, trying to understand his thoughts, “Did you mean it?”

Horacio hadn’t forgotten for one second that she’d called him ‘alpha’. Eva had never used his designation before, had never even hinted at the word. He needed to know that she meant it, that it hadn’t been something said in the heat of the moment.

To distract himself while he waited for her answer, Horacio ran a shaking hand over his hair and pocketed her panties. Her scent was on him, coating his clothes and skin. It set him dangerously on edge.

Her breath was audible, “Yes.”

That settled it.

Moving quickly, Horacio circled his desk and dug in the middle drawer. Finding what he needed, he stepped back around the desk and sat next to her on the couch.

“This is the spare key to my house,” he said as he put it in her hand, “I’ve got some things I need to wrap up here, but when I come home, I want to find you in my bed—naked.”

She stared at him with a kind of dazed lust.

Running his hand up her thigh, Horacio continued, “This is mine tonight. Do you understand?”

His fingers traced the sensitive edge of her opening as she nodded. Eva swayed when he put pressure on it. He wrapped an arm around her and spread his fingers, rubbing firmly on either side.

“Can I…?”

She trailed off and he had to prompt her to continue with a wordless hum.

“Can I get my overnight bag from the apartment?”

The thought of her deviating from his orders made him bite back a growl, “What would you do if I said no?”

She blinked, “I wouldn’t go get it.”

Good omega.

Pleased, Horacio kissed her temple and lifted his hand from her so that he could right her skirt, “Go get your bag. I’ll be home soon.”

She scurried away, leaving the scent of warm, satisfied omega in her wake. Horacio watched her go, holding onto the desk so that he didn’t follow her. He did have paperwork he needed to do—especially if he wanted to spend the rest of the weekend hearing her call him ‘alpha’ as he made her come.

Horacio sat heavily in his chair, eyes snagging on the food still sitting on the edge of the desk. He reached for it, smiling when he saw a familiar logo on the take out box. He dug in, slurping sauce and meat and dough hungrily until his stomach protested its fullness. Leaning back, he threw down his napkin and sighed.

He couldn’t afford to wait much longer to get started on filling out the debriefing forms and accident reports. It was already getting late and he had plans for when he got home.

Tossing the empty container in the trash, Horacio opened up a folder and grabbed a pen. He filled out form after form, some of them in duplicate, until it felt like his eyes would cross.

It was difficult to keep focused when Eva’s scent remained in the room. More than once, Horacio’s eyes flicked up to the couch and the cushions that still held the imprint of their bodies. He could feel Eva beneath him, could hear her cries in his ear.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Horacio stared at the ceiling as he tried to calm his racing heart. The arousal inside him was banked back, but only just. A single thought about what would be waiting for him when he finally got done with work was all it took to bring it back to a raging fire.

He groaned, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Horacio was fully grown man. He should be able to handle himself for a few hours until he could get his work finished. Looking down at the erection tenting his fly, he was forced to concede that it wasn’t going to happen.

Was he seriously going to do this?

He’d already broken one of his own unwritten rules and fucked a woman in his office. This tiny transgression was mild by comparison. The door was closed, the building was mostly empty. If he was quiet, he could take care of it and get back to the forms.

Working quickly, Horacio unbuckled his belt and slipped open the button of his fly. The sound of the zipper sliding down was loud in the silent room and he bit his lip as his eyes glanced at the door.

Sighing with relief, Horacio pushed down the waistband of his pants for the second time that night. He grasped his shaft, hissing as the startlingly acute feeling that radiated outward. Giving himself a slow pump, he ran his thumb over the bulbous head, smearing precome. His free hand dug into his pocket and pulled out Eva’s panties. They were still damp and gloriously fragrant. He balled them in his fist and brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply.

A curse whispered from his mouth in one long syllable.

Horacio was so busy trying to come inside her that he didn’t take the time to eat her out. It was a mistake he was going to rectify when he got home. If he could control himself long enough, he wanted her slick dripping all over his face and hands. He wanted her so flushed with pleasure that she could barely move.

Mouth open, chest heaving, Horacio drew the fabric he was holding into his mouth. The taste paled in comparison to what it was like to drink it from the source, but it was enough to elicit a pained moan.

Quiet, his mind reminded him. He had to be quiet. Horacio bit down on the fabric in his hands. His jaw clenched around the sounds he wanted to make. Every breath was too loud. Every squeak of his chair echoed back to him as a blaring alarm that gave away what he was doing.

He was close, already. Too close. Too fast.

Wide eyes stared down at the way he was fucking his own hand, widening further as he caught sight of the engorged flesh near the base. It was not nearly the size it would be when Eva went into heat, but it was impossible to deny.

Hips rising, Horacio pushed into his fist in a slow grind. His body wanted to knot, wanted to lock itself into Eva. The fact that he couldn’t have her at that exact moment left him grunting beneath his breath in frustration. Eyes closing, he thought about what she felt like less than half an hour ago. Hot. Wet. Delicious.

Horacio barely remembered to cover himself as he came so that he didn’t make a mess of his pants. He bowed forward and moaned softly, ruining the sheer fabric. His other hand slipped down and squeezed the barely formed knot. He hissed through his teeth as a final, electrifying pulse went through him.

Slowing his breath took a long time. It was still longer before he could open his eyes again. Chin against his chest, Horacio blinked rapidly as he returned to sanity. He felt good. Really good.

It would be a short reprieve.

Horacio didn’t know how long his body had been working its way into a rut, but that wasn’t as important as what that might mean for him and for Eva. She probably wouldn’t care, might even welcome it. He had to talk to her about it, first. He had to be sure that it was what she wanted.

Righting his clothing, he tucked Eva’s panties back into his pocket and grabbed his keys. The rest of the paperwork could wait. He had to get to the drug store and get home before the next wave hit him so that he could have something close to a rational conversation about it.

Rising, Horacio made his way towards the door and cut the lights on his way out.

[truckreincarnation]

arri(vee)derci | Vee | Trial 5.1 | Re: Manami, Frank, Germain, Esmee / Attn: Manami

As they spawn back into the summoning circle, Vee keeps their body curled up protectively over their newest quarry, and it’s only after Sakuramber has left with Kali and everyone’s begun to take their seats that they get up unsteadily. In their arms is a familiar animal presence: Terry nuzzles against their shoulder protectively, having been picked up by the Shadow magus immediately after their part in the final battle, unsure of whether or not the entire tree would go down once Sakuramber would.

Thankfully, the worst-case scenario didn’t come to pass, but this sure wasn’t exactly what they would call the best of what’s left. Taking their seat, Terry spins in a circle before resting on Vee’s lap. It’s his presence that keeps him grounded while he listens to the others begin their opening discussions, and truth be told Vee still seems a little out of it like they have been ever since his now ex-girlfriend reviewed their relationship status.

They’d made some measure of peace, but it still stings to hear her mention again that yes, she had been on a date with Calum right before his timely demise. Maybe there’s still a little spark of jealousy left in them, maybe it’s just the fact she’d been near the detestable King at all. A date set-up for the purposes of murder was still a date.

(cw: discussion of injuries, biting, chest trauma/gore)

Urgh. They rub their head with their free hand. “I don’t d-disbelieve that Mimi- Manami, h-had been workin’ together with t-the Lynchpin on this, though I do a-agree with the others that everythin’ s-seems to line up a little t-too perfectly for it to h-have just been her work. Besides, I… Even if m-my mood has been in t-the gutter recently, my memory’s intact.” He turns to face her now. “T-There were bite marks on h-his leg where you’ve drawn a g-gouge, Manami. Thank you f-for reproducin’ the rest of h-his injuries accurately, but the fact y-you chose to edit that specific w-wound… What left do y-you have to hide f-from us?”

He sighs. “The o-other scratches around his chair, the w-wall, and on him. His crown, smashed as well, and while I c-can believe that you’re capable of all t-that carnage, Manami, it seems… odd. M-More like two different forces c-came to take their own piece o-out of him than just one, like somethin’ w-went wrong at first.” They’re staring at her now. “If you w-wanted to metaphorically kick h-him while he was already d-dead, his wounds and the m-marks seem too desperate to be deliberate… Since we n-never got a chance to examine h-his body for real, I have a question. W-What killed him, exactly? Yes, there’s the v-very obvious cavity in his chest, b-but it seemed like somethin’ t-that was done after he p-perished to remove his heart. There isn’t e-enough blood splatter for me to be f-fully sure what killed him, and I w-want to know how everythin’ t-truly went down between the d-date and his death.”

Vee purses their lips. “D-Did he fight back? I h-have to assume by his tears t-that he was conscious enough d-durin’ the attack, b-but the lack of any f-fire damage in the room to the b-best of my memory seems… odd, again. If you k-killed him quickly, why the r-rest of the damage in the room? And if not, w-why no magic?” A pause. “For that m-matter, did we find o-out why Amber’s alarm w-went off for his d-death? Not an incarnate, n-no three people to discover h-him… I s'pose that’s n-not really a big deal now but…” It was worth an ask at least.

[zorkaya-moved]

hand

@impishsensei

shared desires.

It’s yet another evening in Tokyo when night will bring forbidden indulgences and even true faces of people who hide in the daylight. Their meeting for these moments isn’t all about business, there is now pleasure and Zarina is more than happy to indulge in exploring the body of the strongest sorcerer, but she’s more interested in making him remember her. The pride swells inside each time she teases and brings back the result she wants. Despite the comedic interactions, despite the business talk, despite the loud and arrogant confirmation that he is indeed the one and only… Sokolova Zarina is more than happy to win her own battles in a way that matters to her. He comes back, he indulges, he doesn’t make a fuss about it outside of their special adventures. 

It’s why they find themselves in yet another indulgent situation. Though, she expected that just like with most men with ego, she’d have to go down on him first, but it seems he’s full of surprises and it continues to amuse her to no end. Then again, it feels too good to feel the heat of his body against her back, his damn manspread acting as a way to keep her legs open as well. Sokolova did say she likes to be treated like a queen, jokingly in the beginning of their session solely because she’s a teasing bitch with no shame but she likes how he took it right now. Can she really deny just how much she liked the way he kissed her neck, one hand squeezing her chest while the other was so comfortable with caressing her between legs. 

“Of course, I was seducing you,” she admits in a breathy whisper, her hand resting on his forearm while the other finds solace playing with his hair, tugging gently when the pds of his fingers circle around her clothed clit. Her lacy underwear is surprisingly white, but it’s no less revealing and no less pretty. Her nightgown’s straps have fallen off her shoulders, the upper fabric tugged down to expose her chest to the colder air of the room. The only sources of heat for her right now were Gojo’s body and his hand, else her skin feels a bit colder to the touch, but where does he touch? Oh, she can feel it so well. Her breathy laughter follows when she continues, watching his hand move, feeling those feather-like touches and those light pushes against the fabric to tease her entrance. Bastard, but she likes this approach, too. “Sex with you is great.”

Some may say not to overindulge Gojo Satoru in praise, but she can and will in this moment. Praise or taunt/tease, it all depends on the situation. And right now? She deems it appropriate to praise him, relaxing into him (almost melting) and trying not to whimper a sound out until he’s doing more. Oh, she doesn’t have to wait until he once again pays attention to her clothes clit, rubbing it and making Sokolova tense in his hold, finally letting out a moan and closing her eyes, her body wants to have more of that stimulation. 

“I’d ride your thigh if you’d let me, honestly,” she says, not hiding away her appreciative smile. But it can wait for another time. Right now, she’s getting her treatment like she’s supposed to (as she mentioned). “But I like this, too. Oh, fuck–”

Who can deny that she loved the way he’d move her panties away to start playing with her. The way she was already wet from their make out, their grinding, his own teasing. She trusted Satoru knew how to use his hands and fuck if she wasn’t enjoying every single second of it. His hand did travel to lift the fabric of her nightgown up, the silky texture must’ve been so nice to feel, all to see better what he’s doing. If she were shorter or more petite, Zarina can imagine how full a woman could feel with just two fingers. It’s so dirty how he smears her arousal down below, gathering and saying something she decides to use as a white noise. But oh, she lets him know just how good his are when she feels them inside, entering so easily it’s almost embarrassing. Sokolova presses her lips together, holding back a gasp but her eyes are glued to his deeds. The way he moves his fingers, experimentally curling to find that sweet spot of hers. 

He must feel how her walls squeeze around his digits when he adjusts and hits a sweeter spot that causes her thighs to tense up again, hips moving just a bit on his lap. She can feel the growing interest of his with her ass, already imagining how good it’d feel to be fucked after this. But for now, Zarina lets her body lead her and give herself to Satoru wholly. Her hand resting on his forearm tightens her hold just a bit when he starts to flex his wrist, trusting his finger in and out. With each stroke, Zarina lets out more sounds, a bit louder, letting her head fall back on his shoulder while feeling him play around with her. His other hand plays with her chest, squeezing it and pinching her nipple. At that, her back arches and she moans in pleasure, something between his name and desire for more. 

The wet sounds made by his fingers and her pussy, the sound of his voice, the sound of her own voice were icing together and leading her to want more, so much more. It feels good when she feels the temperature rise, his movements becoming faster when he finds that spot inside her and using it to his advantage. Sex is also a game, sometimes a war, to see who’ll fall apart first. It’s a challenge all on its own, especially when she lightly taunts him that she doesn’t want to ‘overwhelm’ with her insatiable nature. 

Her moans fill up the room as she involuntarily tries to close her legs from stimulation, but she isn’t allowed and it only turns her on more. She wants Satoru to hear how he makes her feel, to know exactly what she likes and dislikes, to get proud and to bring her to the peak of ecstasy. Then, she’ll return the favor tenfold. 

“There, r-right there, fuck, S-Satoru,” his first name is better than his surname, and it comes out in a breathy whimper when she feels how close she’s getting. Right there, just a bit more, several more caresses, just a bit more pressure and she’s going to cum. She doesn’t remember when he added another digit to join his other two, stretching her out further but her greedy cunt accepts it all and Zarina isn’t ashamed to be vocal about it. Her orgasm hits her with a high pitched moan, body trembling on his lap as she continues to gasp for air. The light slaps against her pussy only add to the pleasure, her body responding so beautifully. He knows how to use his fingers and his mouth, she can give him that. But the first orgasm of the night isn’t something that stays with her for a long time, her relaxation in his hold comes faster and she feels her legs twitch from the aftermath but when she sees her cum coating his fingers? 

Oh, she doesn’t let him wipe it off. Instead, she grabs his wrist to bring his fingers to her mouth. She is shameless when she gets to the clean up, tasting herself while taking his fingers inside her mouth, giving him a show of what he can expect down below if he wants her to go down on him. Her tongue gathers it all, she’s diligent in her approach. Only when she’s done does she look at Gojo’s face, a sly smile crossing her beautiful feminine features. 

“Treating me like a queen on a throne… I must return the favor or,” she decides to play the devil and wiggle her ass just a bit, putting far more pressure on his erection than he probably needed but all to make a point. “You can fuck me right away. Condoms are in my room, though.” So is lube for extra safety and enjoyment. “But I…” She kisses his cheek, her manicured fingers lightly tracing his other cheek. “Really want you to fuck me right now, I’ll let you choose the position.” He can have her in any way he wants today for treating her so well.

God, why is she remembering his comment about bending her over the table in the meeting room? Maybe… they should. Maybe. Or the kitchen table will do. Maybe she just wants to see what he'll choose. Face to face or doggy style, on his lap or against a wall, on the bed or bent over a table. She isn't picky about that. Maybe she'll even show off her flexibility to him later.

[sparrow-stunned]

Who do you feel is most likely to non con their darling?

Content warning: not-sfw, smut, rape/noncon, dubcon, yandere behaviour, drugging (Albedo), sexual violence (blame Childe), blackmail, (threats of) torture, conditioning (Scaramouche), bdsm themes, somnophilia, manipulation. Reader discretion is highly advised. (If I’ve missed something in the content warning, please let me know!)

Noncon: albedo, childe, scaramouche, xiao, venti. As a bonus, dubcon/not noncon: zhongli, ningguang, diluc, shenhe, dainsleif

Answer: All of them. Hmm, it would depend on what kind of noncon we’re talking about. There’s A) “they don’t initially consent, but I’ll drug/manipulate/threaten them into agreeing so technically it’s consensual”—which of course is still noncon (more than dubcon definitely) or B) “they could be literally crying while having sex, but who cares? not me, that's for sure.”

For the former, ohhhh boy, my list is long long long. Albedo, Scaramouche, Kaeya, Ningguang, Xiao, just to name a few. For the latter, the only one I can think of is Childe (maybe Venti, if he’s in a particularly mood of madness). Kaeya also, because he's a sick bastard who's also very versatile. Since anon didn’t list anybody, I just went with what ideas I had. May use these concepts for later. (Also, I inferred what darling meant from this ask. If that’s the wrong interpretation, feel free to point out my idiocy.)

Albedo.

The aphrodisiac user. He’s got it all planned to minutia. He’s prepared for weeks, gathering information about you. Height, weight, heartbeat rate, diet, metabolism, everything—so that he can calculate the dosage for maximum efficiency. That way, if (when) you refuse his touch, there’s always the backup plan. So when you push his hand away, wave off his words, he doesn’t really mind.

Instead, as you’re conveniently trapped inside of his laboratory with him, the snowstorm raging outside preventing your escape, he just stands there. He doesn’t tell you that the meal he served you before your (quite hurtful, if not unexpected) rejection is laced with an aphrodisiac. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t approach.

Albedo just… waits. Watches with his crystal teal eyes, as you begin to shudder and writhe. Listens as your thighs begin to subtly rub together in search of frictions, whines start escaping your lips.

You’ll ask him what he did to you, choking on the words, but he says nothing. Eventually, your body feels so hot you actually stumble outside into the snowstorm in hopes of cooling off, and still he waits. But of course, you come back. Reddened cheeks and ashamed. The cold only makes the heat inside of you burn brighter.

With your skin so oversensitive and raw, just a touch—one touch only, you tell yourself—feels as if it would be enough to sate the lust. So finally, his patience pays off. You beg him to touch you. Pleads for him through clenched teeth, in the smallest of voices, hating yourself for every word that comes out of your mouth.

But his only response: “No.”

He refuses you.

(When you’re crazed with lust, when you would act rather than speak, when it hurts so much that you’ll pounce on him rather than asking for permission… that’s when he knows he has you exactly where he planned—mindless in need, your hate all but erased in your urgency for him to fuck you.

So if you don’t want him, he’ll wait instead. Wait until you want him—until you need him.)

.

.

.

Childe.

A sadist. Well, that would technically be incorrect.

It’s not so much that he gets off on seeing you scream and cry when he fucks into you, though he won’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy the sight. No, what he lives for is the thrill of battle—sex included. So of course, he enjoys the protest. The struggle. The desperation.

Childe pins you down, brutally thrusts in you with his cock, and just as he likes it, your nails are clawing at his skin for all the life that you’ve got. The scratches you make add to the landscape of scars scattered on his body, and he wears it like a badge of honour. Proudly, as if it were a war trophy. To Childe, it’s the definitive proof of the battle between you. It’s an undeniable proof of your coupling. The slices of pain from your nails, the scent of blood—it excites him like you can’t imagine. Causes him to utter a curse in Snezhnayan, as his hands grip your shoulders so tight it borders pain.

Every movement he makes is designed to bring about your unwilling pleasure; Childe fucks like he fights—with finesse and precision. From his teeth worrying your nipples to his cock grinding into that vulnerable spot inside you, it’s all deliberate. It’s a bit of an exercise for him, to see how long before you stop pushing him away and your sobs to slide into moans. How long it takes for him to fuck the fight out of you.

In the end, you’re left dazed beneath him, . No more protesting, no more crying, just acceptance. Little hiccups of pleasure escapes your throat when he makes a particularly rough jerk of his hips, wanting to reach as deep inside you as he can. He’ll swallow your moans too, in kisses that are less loving and more consuming.

He’ll taunt you to get a rise from you again when he gets bored with your lifelessness. Croons about how you submitted so quickly. As if you were just putting on a show, an obligatory protest rather than your true wish.

And when the spark flares back into your eyes, even as you’re shuddering in an orgasm that he’s ripped out of you—when you whisper that you hate him—that’s when he comes. A groan, as his cock twitches and fills you with his essence.

Afterwards, Childe collapses on you and transforms into a tender and soft lover—as if he didn’t just violate all that you have. All that you are. Kisses away the tears at the corner of your eyes, but you shed even more silent tears. Presses his lips to your forehead in apologies instead, murmuring that he’ll be more careful next time. You know that he loves you, right?

But all the while, he’s thinking. Planning.

Maybe next time, he’ll give you a dagger. Just to make the fight that much more exciting.

.

.

.

Scaramouche.

A sadist, but different from Childe. You’d think Scaramouche would take particular joy in seeing you in tears when you have sex, but no. Only in specific circumstances. He doesn’t like you fighting him. He likes being wanted. (The need to be desired is from his leftover trauma of being abandoned for supposedly not being good enough, though he’d never reveal it. Probably isn’t even conscious of it, in fact.)

There’s the aphrodisiac route, but it’s not as if he’s desperate. He’s a divine being and you? You’re nobody. While he’s not above using underhanded means, in this case, it would be admitting that he desires you—which he does not.

Instead, Scaramouche uses threats. Little sparks of lightning that jolts your body should you behave in a way that’s unsuitable to his taste, until you begin to fear him more than hate him. Whispers about your loved ones, so innocent, so naïve, it’d be oh-so-unfortunate' if something were to happen to them. So you learn to give into his demands, however unreasonable they may be. It’s easier than living in a constant state of heightened anxiety, after all. It’s like training a dog, he’ll sneer.

Through this, Scaramouche molds you into what he wants. Deferent and pliable. Eventually, you’ll more than agree to his touch. You’ll begfor it. Scaramouche will agree, with the greatest reluctance. An owner needs to make sure the needs of their possessions are met, unfortunately. It’s not his fault you’re so needy.

And if (when) he does fuck you, it’ll be at his control. For his pleasure. He doesn’t care about you orgasming or anything quite so ridiculous. In fact, he’d be delighted to just leave you at the edge, in need of his cock. You’re just here to be used. His mouth is absolutely filthy too, all sorts of degrading terms, calling you his little whore, slut, toy. You’ll frantically nod your head. Sobs in agreement, half out of fear, half out of pleasure—but mostly fear, because he’s going too fast for you to properly enjoy it. (That’ll change, he promises. You’ll come to like the pain eventually.)

After a while, people around you start looking at you with this pitiful look, whispering about the absolute broken look in Scaramouche’s—what? What are you to him? A servant? A slave? A pet?

But whatever terms people use at the end of the day doesn’t matter. As long as one thing is clear—that you’re his.

—bonus—

Some shorter noncon scenarios.

Xiao: Somnophilia. The only way Xiao could even approach you is while you’re asleep, simply because he is a massive Virgin (TM). He’ll be too embarrassed to approach and ask you for sex, but he’s got urges that need to be filled. Also, the guilt over his karmic debt tainting you with his touch means that he’d prefer it if you never knew about his… misdemeanour. So, like all his battles through the millennia, Xiao stays in the shadows, readying himself to strike when you fall unconscious.

Venti.

If he's feeling particularly unforgiving, he’s quite sadistic. Likes seeing you cry, actually. Will hum a song, even, as he fucks you. And laughs. Also goes for the somnophilia route, but for a different reason than Xiao—it’s about the control. It’s knowing that your unconscious body is at his whims—courtesy of his melodies. He could do whatever he wants to you, and you wouldn’t even remember. So when you wake up sore, complaining about that crick in your back, he’ll just giggle in response.

The wind is a trickster, and Venti is no different.

—bonus bonus—

Characters that do not noncon/go for dubcon.

Zhongli.

Usually, I’d say Zhongli is someone who waits for consent. Zhongli is patient; he knows that you’ll come around eventually. The difference between his patience and Albedo’s is that he needs you to consciously want him. Zhongli doesn’t care for the haziness that comes with an aphrodisiac—when he fucks you, he wants you lucid. He wants you to remember it. Every. Single. Detail.

(But he won’t deny you should you have an aphrodisiac problem; he’ll be more than happy to help, actually.)

Ningguang.

Manipulation, manipulation, manipulation. Whereas Zhongli waits until the time is right, Ningguang makes the time right. Think female Zhongli, but less patient. To Ningguang, mora is a trophy. While this particular investment doesn’t give out mora as its dividend, you are still a symbol of her victory. A deserved return on her investment, even more precious than mora.

Ningguang is similar to Scaramouche in that she will subtly force you into willingly going into her embrace, but through gaslighting instead. Ningguang isn’t Tianquan for nothing. She will isolate you until the only one you can seek out is her, the solution to all your problems.

You’re lonely? You feel touch-starved? No problem. You need only say one word: please.

And then… Well, a shrewd merchant knows how to press their advantage.

Diluc.

The amount of guilt will crush him, so no, he won’t do it. He can barely steal a kiss without feeling like he needs to kneel at your feet in repentance. Too much of a coward—but if you push him too much… Well, fire always did need a bit of kindling before it flickers into an inferno.

Shenhe.

Won’t force you, simply because she doesn’t even know what sex is. Living isolated in a mountain while training under an adeptus master doesn’t exactly entail biology lessons.

Once she finds out though… you’d best sleep with one eye open. Actually, best not to sleep at all, because she’ll probably whisk you away into some adeptal realm to learn just exactly what this mortal act entails.

Dainslief.

Even more of a coward than Diluc, when it comes to seeing you in pain. Soft. Very, very soft, even as a yandere. Definitely a service top, so no, your discomfort will put him off from forcing you. But make no mistake, even though he’ll attend to your every need with reverence, it’ll come at a cost: your freedom.

[moonxbabe]

vinnie hacker smut - take it out on me -

hi readers - this was another request I had, not my best work and also pretty short so I apologize but hope you like it - also - this story has a bit of that cigarette incident with Vinnie, but I do NOT care that he smokes, sadly I find it attractive (I know, I'm the worst) but anyway Its just a story.

warning: smut 18+

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vinnie groans exiting his now stalled car on the side of the road. He slams the door closed causing Jett to jump as he gets out as well. 

“Let me make some calls so someone can come out here and get us, dont stress,” Jett assures him as best as he can but he already knows Vinnies had a rough day and there's only so much he can say to make it better. 

Vinnie moves both his hands to the back of his neck holding it tightly pacing by the front of the car ignoring Jetts attempt at comfort. He pulls out his phone and opens your text thread typing. 

Vinnie: I'm having the worst day. 

You read his text and sigh knowing it was coming. A few hours ago Tik Tok room also blew up a post at their weekly attempt to “Cancel Vinnie Hacker” along with his meeting regarding the boxing match that he never got paid for. Things just weren't going his way today and when that happens he falls deep into the dark. 

You: Come over?

Vinnie: I'm stuck on the side of the road. I don't even want to talk about it. I'm turning my phone off. 

You read his text and slightly frowned. You knew he was in a bad mood but you hated when he pushed you away and wouldn't even let you help. You decided to grab your things and go to the Hype House to wait for him to get back. 

                                                       ---------

Vinnie storms into his bedroom slamming the room shut startling you as you sit on his bed slowly closing your laptop. He turns around and slams his first against the back of the door leaning his head against it for a moment before turning around to press his back to it and slides down taking his head in his hands. 

“Hey hey, let's breathe for a second?” You say softly approaching him, getting down to sit in front of him. You touch his arms gently stroking them softly with your thumbs. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” He finally responds after a few moments and sighs, leaning his head back against the door. He takes one of your hands and squeezes it softly, intertwining your fingers. 

“You didn't, I'm just worried about you,” You brought his hand up to kiss it softly. He closes his eyes for a minute before opening them.

“I'm just tired, tired of everything,” He lets go of your hand and slowly gets up “I need a cigarette” He walks over to his dresser pulling out the box. 

“Vinnie,” you say with a warning as he pulls one out of the box and attempts to find a lighter. 

“Don't start with me, y/n. I'm not in the mood,” He doesn't bother to look at you as he continues to search for the lighter. 

“I promised your mom that I’d make sure you didn't smoke anymore,” you walked over to him annoyed and attempted to take the cigarette out of his mouth. 

“You really think I care about the promise you made to my mom right now, y/n? I don't give a fuck,” He grabs your arms, slightly pushing them away. You frown at his reaction.

“Okay but I don't want you to do it,” you hold back tears as he tries to walk past you but you hold him. He doesn't say anything but attempts his best to avoid eye contact. He knew he was hurting you but he was hurting himself and the battle within him was strong. 

“Stop,” you grab his face with both your hands using your thumbs to stroke his cheeks softly before using one hand to tuck some of his curls away “I know you're hurting right now, but-- but-- this isn't going to help,” you search his face for a moment as he still doesn't look at you, you take a moment before saying anything else “Take it out on me, let me make you feel good,” you say quietly waiting for him to say something, anything. His eyes linger for a moment before finally looking into yours causing your body to somewhat relax. 

He still doesn't say a word, but moves his hand up to grab your neck slightly pulling you closer, his lips crashing onto your kissing you hungerly not wasting a second. He groans softly as you suck at his bottom lip sliding your tongue into his mouth. He moves his other hand deep into your hair, gripping it pulling you even closer to him, you can almost taste his pain. He bites at your bottom lip tugging at it before pulling away to take your hand leading you to the bed. 

“Knees, now.” He says sternly as you nod and get down onto your knees looking up at him. He started to undo his jeans, pushing them down along with his tight boxers freeing his hardness. You bite the inside of your cheek in anticipation as he nods looking down at you giving you permission. He sits at the edge of the bed as you get closer in between his legs. 

You take his dick in your hands stroking it, causing him to let out a soft groan before leaning in closer and slowly taking it into your mouth. His hand quickly finds its way deep into your hair once more grabbing it as he lets out another groan at the feeling. You begin to bob your head up and down his length, allowing your tongue to roam all over before pulling up and using it to gently lick his tip a few times.

“Fuck baby, so good” He moans gripping your hair tighter as he watches you work. Your mouth slides over his dick again, taking in as much as you can using your hands to stroke the rest.

“Be a good girl and take it all,” He groans and pushes your head further down on his cock causing you to slightly gag but you continue as tears form in your eyes. Your hand strokes his balls as your tongue proceeds to lick all over. You begin to feel his dick twitch in your mouth as you slightly hum sending vibrations along it. 

“I'm so close baby, don't stop,” He moans softly, stroking your hair as you keep bobbing your head faster taking him all in as his tip hits the back of your throat. His hips buckle up as he grips your hair once more pulling your head back, you continue to stroke him as your mouth remains open, sticking your tongue out ready for his load. He shuts his eyes and lets out a loud grunt cumming into your mouth as you lick your lips and swallow. 

“My good fucking girl,” He says in a husky tone and wipes off remaining cum from your lips with his thumb shoving it into your mouth, his eyes locked on yours as you suck it clean. His hand slides down to grab your neck again pulling you close. 

“Open,” He says and without hesitation you open your mouth as he leans in to spit in it. You swallow as a slight grin appears on his face, he pulls you in kissing you hard. 

“Such a good little slut for daddy huh?” You slightly bit your lower lip and nod. 

“Do we think she deserves a reward?” His hand slides up to grab your jaw as you both don't break eye contact. 

“Yes daddy,” you almost whine and nod once more. He studies you for a moment before nodding.

“Get up, lay down,” He pats at the edge of the bed, you do as he says and wait for him as he pulls off his tshirt leaving himself completely naked aside from his silver chains around his neck. You bit your lip at the view of him wanting him deep inside you. You press your thighs together but he's quick to push them apart, grabbing the edge of your shorts, pulling them down and throwing them off to the side. 

“Those look so good on you,” He licks his lips at your black lace thong “But sadly they have to come off,” He rips them off tossing them as well. 

“Vinnie I just b--!” you attempt to say but get cut off by his warning look shutting you up. He leans over moving his hand to your neck once more pulling you in to kiss you deeply as his other hand cups your pussy causing you to slightly moan into the kiss. 

He slides two fingers in between your folds feeling your wetness and pulls away to groan softly against your lips. 

“Look at you, so wet for me and I’ve barely touched you,” He rubs your clit causing you to moan once more as your back slightly arches off the bed. He slowly enters two fingers into you pumping them in and out at a steady pace. 

“Vinnie,” you bit your lower lip moving your hand down to grip his. 

“I want to taste you,” He said in a husky tone, getting down pushing your legs even more apart and replacing his thumb on your clit with his tongue sucking at it. 

“Oh my-- don't stop” your hand moved to grip his hair pushing him further in, your eyes rolled back at the pleasure as his fingers continued to work in and out of you at a fast pace. 

“Cum for daddy,” He whispered against your heat before letting his tongue trailed up and down causing your legs to shake. You felt your walls begin to clench around his fingers as he suddenly curled them hitting your g-spot,  you tried to push his head away from the overwhelming pleasure but he didn't budge. 

“V-Vin, I'm about to cum” you moaned loudly gripping his curls harder as your climax took over. He slowly pulled his fingers out, licking them all over as he leaned back down to lick you clean. You groaned softly, closing your legs still sensitive from your over stimulation. 

“Delicious,” He said quietly before leaning over kissing your lips softly. Your eyes fluttered tired from your high. Before you knew it you were flipped over on your stomach and he was behind you.

“Ass up baby,” He growled, giving your behind a hard slap, causing you to wince but you followed his orders quickly. You got on all four as he positioned himself behind you. One hand gripped your hip as the other slid up your back to the back of your neck pushing it down into the bed. 

“I said ass,” He ordered once more as you nodded. Your cheek pressed to the bed sheets as you bit your lower lip nervous but also excited. You liked it when he played rough, but he was also in a bad mood today so you didn't know what to expect. Before you could even have another thought he slammed into you hard causing you to scream gripping the sheets next to you. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight” He groaned at the feeling as he thrusted in and out of you at a fast and hard pace as his anger got the best out of him. It hurt but you tried your best to keep it together in hopes it would get better. Your teeth sunk harder into your bottom lip as your eyes shut feeling him deep inside you as he kept going with no remorse. 

“Vin, slow down” You mumbled moving your hand behind you pushing him back a bit. He grabbed your hand and moved it down to press it above your head into the bed. 

“Take it like the good little slut you are,” His voice husky as he leaned in to growl in your ear, holding your hand in place for a few moments before moving it in between the both of you to slowly rub your clit. His thrusts slowed down a bit but remained just as hard causing you to moan. He rubbed your clit harder as his other hand gripped tightly at your hip keeping a good rhythm going. 

“Yes, yes right there,” you moaned loudly at the feeling as your eyes rolled back, your hips meeting his with every thrust. You could feel his dick in your stomach from how deep he was.

“There she is,” you could hear the smirk in his voice as he picked up his pace again. The room filled with skin slapping skin noises as he watched himself slide in and out of you. His hand on your hip slid up your back once more reaching your hair and grabbing it all together tugging at it. It hurt but in the best way. You could feel your climax coming as you turned into a moaning mess. 

“You feel so good baby, I love the way your pussy feels around my dick,” He groaned as his words sent chills down your spine causing your legs to shake. He leaned his head back before lifting his leg up fucking into you hard from a different angle finding your g-spot once again. 

“Holy shit, Vin,” you cried in pleasure as you felt your walls begin to clench around his dick. “I'm about to cum,” 

“Hold it,” He demanded and kept going, wanting to climax at the same time. Your body was shaking uncontrollably as you gripped the sheets tighter. His hand on your clit not moving driving you insane.

“I'm close, don't you dare cum” He groaned as you felt his dick twitch inside of you, feeling like you were ready to explode. 

“Vinnie,” you moaned loudly as he moved his hand shoving you into the bed getting in a few more thrusts.

“Cum baby,” He moaned, stiffening inside you as you immediately came all over his dick. You both rode out your highs as he slowly pulled out of you grabbing a towel to clean you up as you laid there tired and breathless. 

After throwing the towel in his basket he walked back over to the bed as you turned over on your back grabbing a blanket to cover yourself. He laid next to you putting his arm around you pulling you to him as you both stayed silent for a few minutes. 

“Was it too much for you?” He said quietly looking down at you as you hugged into his chest. He felt guilty for taking it out on you.

“No, im fine Vin” you nodded and looked up reassuring him. He gave you a slight smile kissing your forehead. 

“I'm sorry about earlier,” He sighed, “I shouldn't have shoved you like that or said what I said,” He leaned his head back against the headboard. 

“It's okay, I know you're having a rough time right now, I just wish you’d talk to me instead of shut me out,” you looked up at him and placed a hand on his cheek stroking it softly with your thumb, he leaned into it closing his eyes for a moment before nodding. 

“I know, its stupid of me, I just get too deep into myself sometimes,” His eyes fluttered open as he reached for your hand placing his over it before taking it and kissing the inside of your palm. 

“I love you, thank you for caring for me and still sticking around even though I can be a shit boyfriend,” He held your hand tightly.

“You don't need to say that and you are not a shit boyfriend Vin, I care because I love you and want you to be happy” you kissed his bare chest as he held onto you tightly. 

“You make me happy, only you” He leans in to kiss you softly as you kiss him back smiling. 

                                                          -------------

feedback is always appreciated <3

[batcxves]

Reputation

a battinson pic, fem!reader, reader insert, riddler is conspiring against reader, reader has a budding relationship with b. wayne, as well as an established business-ish relationship with the batman, ongoing/not finished.

synopsis: A doctor of criminology, Y/N has been secretly conspiring with the masked vigilante of Gotham, the Batman. Despite her secret, she has rose to a sort of fame within the police department, and at a banquet honoring her success, she is shot. Bruce Wayne rescues her, and fights an ever-growing attachment to her. Meanwhile, she conspires with the Batman to catch the perpetrator that is targeting her. As tensions rise and she discovers that the shooter is much more dangerous than she previously believed him to be, she fights internal battles of complicated feelings towards the two banes of her existence: Bruce Wayne, and the Batman.

content warnings for this chapter: pining af

a/n: ACTUAL ACTION IN THIS CHAPTER FINALLY :) hooray. I love to see everyone sharing or noting it means so much to share this story with others. hope you continue to enjoy !!

. . .

CHAPTER FOUR -

She stood in the crack of her door, watching, waiting, hoping that she would hear his footsteps ascending back up the stairs; see his silhouette reappear in the empty hallway. Dumbfounded was the only way to describe her current state. Slamming her door shut, she paced to the curtained window overtop her desk, peeling back the black-out cloth to watch for him. She could see his car parked across the street; it was the only dark, expensive-looking car in the vicinity. Despite being rather financially well-off, she had always opted to keep to a small space. She couldn’t begin to imagine how someone like Mr. Wayne conducted himself in his grand mansion overlooking the whole of the city. To be all alone was one thing, but to be all alone in a space that one’s singular presence could not fill, would be more lonesome than words would be able to explain.

She watched as he stepped outside onto the sidewalk, head low. He had come to see her, to see how she was—how did he even know where she lived? Why would he risk being seen in a lower-income part of town? Why would he risk his image being tainted? She paused her thoughts as she saw him pull a piece of paper out of his coat pocket and tear it in half quickly. As he crossed the street, he crumpled the now ripped paper in one singular fist, dropping it in the garbage outside of the apartment complex across the street. He rubbed his hands together and pulled on his jacket to tighten it even further around him, ducking his head as his driver opened the door to his car for him. In the back windshield, she saw his body contort in order to turn back towards her building, and quickly, she closed the curtain with an anxiously extreme force.

Pacing, she listened for the motor of his expensive car to disappear down the street before she opened the curtain again. She was deathly curious to know what the paper entailed; was it for her? It was an awfully odd place to dispose of a paper, and Mr. Wayne didn’t appear to her to be the type to carry useless garbage around in his pockets. Of course, she’d have to wait until the sun set to look for the paper. She couldn’t risk being seen digging through the dumpster just after being shot; it was clear the beloved image she had imagined herself to have was deteriorating quickly. She wouldn’t have her career ended for something as stupid as rumors and defamation of her image. If she would go down, it would have to be much, much better than that. She had decided long ago that if she were to be ruined, it would have to be over the Bat. She wouldn’t have it any other way. She didn’t deserve her career ruined over anything else. He was her one thing. The thing that would certainly destroy her, but she could not seem to stop herself from having. The feeling she got from solving case after case with him as her partner could only be described as comparable to the feeling drug addicts chased. That feeling, that high that she would not become tolerant to anytime soon.

As the day progressed, she found her mind wandering back and forth between the two masked men—one literally, the other figuratively. Neither would ever let her in, yet with the passing days, she had begun to feel a growing desire to attempt to crack the walls surrounding the both of them. It was her nature, as a detective. Every mysterious person was simply a challenge to her, a puzzle. She supposed that her thought process was the reason behind her having no personal relationships; she didn’t see people as just that: people. They were objects to her, something for her to solve, and once she did that, she moved on to the next most mysterious thing. When she solved things, broke through a person’s barriers, she no longer had a challenge, and therefore, no longer had an interest. Both a blessing and a curse, her thirst for knowledge consumed her.

Soon, her impatience consumed her, and as the sun was just beginning to set, she decided that she could wait no longer. Slipping on a long black shirt and black cargo pants, which were a tad too big, she decided to start down to the dumpster to begin her search. By the time she had finished her descent down the stairs, the sun had completely set, and darkness was about to consume the city. Though she had been a private investigator for years, she still never felt very comfortable on the streets of her neighborhood, especially at night. In the waistband of her cargo pants, a handgun was tucked away, ready in case of need.

As she crossed the street to the dumpster on the other side, the street was quiet. The sound of crickets and the wind in the midsummer night relaxed her as she stood on tiptoe to peer inside the dumpster, using her phone’s flashlight to navigate through the trash. It had just been emptied the day before, God bless. She hoisted herself up and climbed in, landing on her feet upon the metal bottom of the dumpster. She fell to her knees and dug around for a moment, finding one of the pieces of paper scattered throughout the contents. She turned her head towards the sky to hold the paper up into the moonlight, only to find her vision of the sky blocked by the familiar silhouette of a cowl upon a pair of hefty shoulders. Suppressing a shriek, she immediately reached for gun out of instinct. He frowned and reached forward, grabbing her wrist before she could bring the gun up to level with him. A moment passed, but she became considerably less tense as she came to realize who the man in front of her was.

“Don’t you ever just say hello?” She growled, embarrassed to be caught in such a lowly position. “What the hell are you doing here? Keeping tabs, Bat? I don’t know if you’re aware, but my mother stopped hiring babysitters for me years ago.”

He stood silently, for a moment, pondering the image of her in the dumpster. With a firm grip on her wrist, he traveled to her hand, prying it open to take the piece of paper from her. She protested immediately, lurching so hard towards him that she recoiled and hissed from the pain of his grip on her pulling on her shoulder. He released her, ignoring her protests and groans of pain as she tried to pull herself out of the dumpster. He held the paper up to the sky, and the moonlight shone upon it, illuminating the black words scribbled onto the page. The end of a word or two were cut off from the rip, but two words were clear: a signature. B. Wayne. He looked over his shoulder at her, and she cowered against the dumpster. It had been the only time that he had ever seen her look anything less than determined and confident. Red in the face, refusing to make eye contact, she appeared to be ashamed. He crumpled the paper in his fist and tucked it into his pocket, turning to face her now. Not a word had passed between them for a few minutes now, and a cold, awkward silence fell over them. His jaw was set as he stared blankly at her with a frown, trying to make out any sense from her angered silence.

Suddenly, he took two steps forward, reaching over her to grab the lid of the dumpster. He closed it firmly, firmly. The loud bang that echoed behind her told her just how disproving he was of her actions, and she, too, felt the same disgust for herself. Hovering over her now, she found the sight of her shoes to be rather interesting.

“Look at me.” His gruff voice broke the silence. She hesitated, but slowly lifted her head, her eyes trailing after the movement of her neck, and it was then that she realized how close he was. Pressed against the cold metal of the dumpster, she felt as if she had shrunk. His body seemed to be twice the size of hers, and when she turned to look away again, feeling embarrassed by the aggressive eye contact he was making, he grabbed her chin, pulling her face back to look at his. “You,” his voice was quiet, but firm, “Do not want him.” His eyes were darting back and forth between hers, and for a second, they fell to her lips. Grabbing his wrist, she pulled his hand away from her, shoving past him to head back towards her apartment complex. Wordlessly, he watched her go. She stopped, hesitated, and then turned around and made her way back to him. Laughing almost hysterically, she firmly pressed her hand into his chest, shoving him backwards.

“You’re absolutely right, asshole. I don’t. I don’t want him. I sure as hell don’t need him. Even if I did, Bat, I’d recommend you mind your own fucking business for once. Leave me the hell alone. I am your business partner. You don’t need to babysit me. You don’t need to keep tabs on me. I am a grown woman. Just because I was shot doesn’t mean that—”

“This isn’t about that.” He cut her off grimly, jaw set as he clenched his teeth, almost as if he were biting his tongue.

“Then what, Batman, could it possibly fucking be about—”

Before she could finish her last word, his gloved hands were roughly grabbing her by each side of her neck. The feeling of his lips upon hers had a fire alight in her throat, ready to scream, ready to cry, but she stood completely still as his hands worked their way to hold her chin, thumbs working in circles to rub the joints of her jaw. Her jaw went slack at the feeling and her eyes eased shut, and something about it felt so right that she couldn’t help herself when she began to move her lips synchronously with his. The absolute sheer power of him, the way he kissed her as if he had been starving for a taste of her, it was all so overwhelmingly intoxicating. It was sloppy, it was rough, and it was hot. It was when she felt his teeth against her bottom lip that she came to her senses and pushed on his chest with all the strength she could muster. She stood there for a fraction of a second, her hand upon her lips, as if she were protecting them from him. She could bare to meet his eyes for only a split second before she stumbled backwards and turned, darting back across the street and forcing the door of her apartment complex open as quickly as she could, and though she bit back a scream of pain as the door made contact with her shoulder, she bit her lips and kept quiet the entire way up the stairs.

The moment she slammed the door of her flat shut, she collapsed to the floor with a shaking sob, trying to scream. The only sound she could muster was a breathy sob as she clutched at her chest and shoulder, trying to go back, pleading to reverse time and stay inside. Begging to have never met him, never worked with him, never spoken to him.

It was her first kiss.

[neonovember]

Black Umbrellas

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary; you grief the life you thought you’d live, you grief the person you thought you’d become with her.

warnings; angst to the 10th power, hugeTW for death, loss, grief, sadness that’s masquerading as anger, mentions of major depressive and anxiety episodes, major character death, mentions of disorders eating, isolation, self harm, fluff, (semi sad ending?, it’s kind of neither).

author notes; was I on an undeclared hiatus for a while? yes most definitely! If you squint hard enough you can see the droplets of tears from pulling this out of my ass, please beware of warning and triggers, most of this writing is just poor descriptions of what grief even begins to feel like, so beware lol.

Black umbrellas gripped tightly by the mourners as they huddled in the soaked downpour, glistening droplets sliding off the edges and grooves of the umbrella.

They gather, moving in unison, in togetherness, bounded and shared in grief and loss, moving like a wave, over, until their blanketed sadness ripples into the shore, until they are swarmed within the masses of people in ordinary, in mundanity, because death is something that happens, that just happens, and the world won’t stop spinning, and the people won’t stop living, or working or resting, because death is will always be the ending of life, there is no parabolic cycle in which death ceases, there is no reality in which it doesn’t morph to become normal.

Death is nothing but enabling the living. Bonded grief, safe only in the prism of memories that become too clouded with age and rubbed with heat, it’s pristine, clarity leaving just as fast as it came. The once unrelenting image of her burned into cranials and irises, never leaving even in rest, that gut wrenching nauseating memory that becomes an aged heated picture, it’s bile rising burn felt almost daily, now instead, leaving an everlasting aftertaste.

The abhorrence keeps you grimacing after every swallow, after every breath, a reminder. A sacred oath you kept in grief and loss, in a blurred stage between depression and shock, that you’d never forget, never break their once so familiar face, their so close touch, the heat of their voice, their smile, their laugh.

Death leaves you with simple promises you’ve made in desperation, with illogical bargains, will hopeless wishes; to remember them, to seize forgetting, to be branded with the spoken syllables of their name.

You never stop whispering her name, not in rest, not in battle, not even in pleasure. It stays branded within you, it plants its feet within your mind to grow, to wilt, to seize, and then to repeat, until it is an endless cycle. An endless cycle of remembering and then forgetting, and the cruel chastising after. Mind incredulous at its audacity to leave the grief, even momentarily, heart clenching with guilt, wilting from red to grey, to grey to red.

You had grown accustomed to this battle, to this routine, and any assuring hand or concerned advice was shushed away into the overflowing cabinet. Steve had tried, really, tried, unrelenting desire to help, to free you from this repetition you’ve consumed yourself with.

The same ignorant belief that spurred him into rescuing James Buchanan Barnes, the belief that sent him into hiding, his dark Captain uniform becoming second skin, it’s star turning black with use and age of his rogue.

He’d found you at the funeral then, his hands wrapped around your face, scanning in concern over your faltering expression. He begged you to let him in, let him share the burden of grief, let him see you, goddamn, just see you. You hadn’t, and you still don’t now.

Instead you laughed, the loudly inappropriate sound booming across the greened lawns. Vibrating off those goddamn black umbrellas before bounces across the cemetery grass. You had turned heads, mouths opened in shock at your confidence, your disrespect.

How dare you stand there amongst them whilst they mourn her death, and laugh?

Her casket empty because they didn’t have a body to bury, even despite your request to bring her back, use the god awful gifts given to you by crazed scientists for good, they had refused, and so she was left there to rot whilst you fiend a funeral that seemed so wrong, so inappropriate, so dumb. She would’ve thought it was, anyway.

You couldn’t help it, it was beyond your control. You laughed louder at their faces, leaning back, clapping a hand across your mouth, trying, failing at hiding your emotional outburst. You willed your body to stop, you knew what would come next, and Steve did too, his body stepping closer to catch you. You felt yourself falling before you actually did, the gut nauseous change toppling you over as your snickers turned into sobs, your eyes burning with mascara and hot with tears.

You didn’t want to cry, not here, not in front of everyone, you’d much rather it in your bathtub fully clothed with a bottle of some Russian hard liquor she used to love. Drink away the embarrassingly pedestrian funeral. Curl a hand around the base of the bottle until it shattered at the thought of a weightless casket.

Steve held you close, protective arms wrapped around you, cocooning you in his warmth and grip, shielding you from the prying ears and eyes of the faceless crowds of people that didn’t know her.

You begged Steve why?

Why had she done it? Why had she sacrificed the one thing you’ve ever needed in life? Why had she gone and bleached her ledger if it meant leaving you? You couldn’t understand, you wouldn’t, your mind heavy and pounding with a headache.

Steve walked off with you in his arms, motioning for Banner and Stark to follow, carrying you into a tinted Chevrolet, or Mercedes’ or whatever unmarked suv was surely organised by Stark, the billionaire's strategic planning for your eventual mental breakdown. Better to have you shielded from the public, kept shut into the tinted windows of vehicles instead of in upstate New York’s most prestigious fucking graveyard. Didn’t need the rest of the world to watch on as an Avenger loses her grip on reality.

You may be infected with grief and loss but you weren’t fucking stupid, you had a duty, even now in grief, a duty branded to you the moment you took up the mantle of an Avenger. People were scared, the world was scared, and they’re only hope was you, and for them to see you, see you like this, show them you felt pain and hurt and loss, would be to show them that you were just like them. Human. Capable of the same fucking depression and grief they felt everyday.

It was disturbing, it was fucking inappropriate that’s what it was, how dare you? How dare you shake them with the reality that you were still helpless to the destruction of death? How fucking dare you become them. How dare you warp their sense of superiority and benevolence they’ve granted you? It didn’t make sense, it couldn’t.

The public couldn’t comprehend that you could grief, that you felt the natural process of human emotion. Or maybe they did know, and had grown accustomed to the stoic, emotionless barrier the Avengers had glazed over themselves, maybe they had learnt to see them not for who they wore, or who they were, but for what they served. Their purpose. Their mission. Thier weaponised killing and justified murder.

It was hushed behind the backs of their minds but it was true, the avengers weren’t seen as people, they were dehumanised, it was the only way they could rationalise it, they needed them. How could you save them if you needed saving? How could you save them when you couldn’t even save yourself?

The motions of the unmarked car grow thick, your limbs lazy and lagging, sore from your depression.

You cried more inside the haven of the fabric walls of the car, leaning into Steve’s lap, Banner's finger crazing over your leg in assurance. Whispering “I know, I know, I know”.

You hated her, hated what she’s done, you’d screamed it then, pulling a fist into your mouth, your mind begging for your body to stop.

Steve gently pulled your hand away from your jaw, resting your head in the croon of his neck instead, humming softly at your blubbering, the silent wake after you cried the last of the moisture from your eyes, the dehydration from your ministrations settling in.

The ride was short, or at least it felt like that, you didn’t really know, consumed with burying your face into Steve’s white button up. He leaned into you, brushing your coils from its dampened rest on your forehead. You liked the smell of him, Steve, his musky scent of patchouli and something earthly remained exactly as it was the first time you met, it was the only thing that hadn’t changed, beneath cologne and dirt there it layed, all these years.

You would’ve made a joke of it in different circumstances, today wasn't that day, perhaps it would be long until that time came. His scent was the only thing you’ve kept now, it’s the only thing you know now, his scent is like a stamped reminder of everything you’ve lost and the very few you still have.

“Hey, sweet girl, we gotta get up” He whispered it cautiously, calculating if maybe the uttered words would spring you into another breakdown.

Muffling a groan you raised from his lap, tugging at his hands pulling them towards you. He wrapped an arm around you as he eased the both of you out of the car, the hard cement felt like pillows under your black heels, marshmallowy and soft, like your movements weren’t really there, like you’ve sunk into the depths of the Earth.

Fluttering your eyes across your surroundings you realise you’re in the Towers carpark, the noticeable, embroidered A centred at the front. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been here, avoiding the place all together, avoiding her smell, her room, her clothes, her being within these spaces. It was too much, one morning entering the tower had you leaving in muffled sobs, too much.

Steve squeezed your arm, sensing your thoughts;

“You have to try, you’ll never recover if you don’t at least try” He whispered, an optimistic expression on his face that had you scoffing.

“You know Steve, for someone who’s lost the love of their life, I thought at least you’d give me a fucking break” You raise your face at him, lips trembling.

He gulps back a swallow, cerulean blues glazed in pain and sadness as he reviled, and begged you not to continue you’re fevered rant.

“I don’t want to try, I don’t want to do anything, try for what? For what Steve? A life that’s half pretending I’m over it and half wishing it was me?!”

“She’s gone, forever, just like that, and I just, I just, my heart, Stevie, my heart hurts goddamnit. She did this, she made my heart hurt, and I hate her for it, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her!”

Steve watched you scream your obscenities, taking on the wrath of your anger and delirium because that’s just who he is. You feel yourself doing it and you hate it, why can’t you just get over it? Why does your heart have to burn all the time? Why can’t she give back that piece she has of you? The one she’s kept since you’ve loved her? You need it, you need it, you need it back really bad.

“Please,” Steve pleaded, begged, bargained for your resolve, trying to reach the depths of your mind in which you were cognitive, in which you had reason.

“You need to sleep, you have to sleep” He said it like a suggestion, he meant it as a command.

You were too tired to resist the strength of his arms, and the heat of them. You let yourself be tucked into a bed in a darkened room, you let your mind tug into the abyss of sleep. That night was the one night you had gotten any proper sleep, you had no idea why, until you woken and smelt her everywhere. Steve had put you in Natasha’s room. Your first instinct was to scream at him, slap him for doing this to you, grief the moment when you didn’t have to face the reality of her death.

Months later, you’d thank him, you’d take him out for dinner at her favourite restaurant, and look over the menu without tears burning your vision. Eat a full meal instead of small bites Steve or Clint would feed you.

You didn’t know what would’ve happened to you if you hadn’t slept in her room that night. You didn’t know if you’d ever really recover, and that’s not to say you're okay now, no, things weren’t ever going to be as they wore before. Death crafts you a new normal, it gifts you with perseverance, with awkward party tricks and horrible sentence starters called I lost the love of my life.

You had stopped being angry by the second month, you had nothing to be angry about anymore, just gaping holes in the places she’d once warmed.

You were a shell of a person for a long time, depressed and anxious, all nail biting and knuckles in palms. You weren’t the cool depressed, the “weed” medicating anxious, you were the weeping-into-the same-jumper depressed. You were the eat everything within the kitchen or go days without food until you hunched over in stomach spasms kind of anxious. You were a mean drunk, or, maybe you became one after, you’d always remembered how she loved when you were tipsy, she wouldn’t like it now.

Steve had stayed through all of it, every single part of yourself you became and evolved through. God you willed yourself to create distance, keep him at arms length so you never have to go through what you’d gone through, but Steve, he is an enigma, a man out of time, a man who finds dealing with you at your worst more normal than operating a fucking Iphone. You knew through all of this, through the nights he sat at your bedside waiting for your hiccuped breathing to get heavy, that it was for him too. Steve needed this as much as you did, if not more.

You’d often say you credit Steve to saving your life, but he saved so much more than that. He saved your soul, the memories and versions of you that felt so foreign sometimes, miles away. You were sure if you’d died then and there, people would remember you as the one that went crazy, the Avenger that couldn’t get a grip, Steve made sure you became more than that, the Avenger who went crazy but still laughed at his jokes.

Steve became your favourite person, he became your safe haven after a hard day, the person you felt at ease with, the only time you really ungripped your hands and let your shoulders fall.

Sometimes, when he felt really honest, he’d tell you about Peggy, you’d watch him whilst you both sat on the balcony in the moons of the night, watch as the gleams of love, sorrow and longing took over his face, he’d catch himself soon though, when you leaned in too close, when you looked at him a little too understanding.

This was for him too remember, and he hadn’t finished grieving even centuries later. And so you’d watch him grip his jaw and shut his mouth, paint his face with a pained smile, watch those cerulean blues fall.

There were questions that were never answered even now, even years later when her grave had grown over with green grass, and the insects and worms had eaten away at the wood of her casket.

You’d made a promise to never forget her, to always keep her branded into the cranium of your mind, and that never changed, she was always there, even if her face had melted with age and the edges of your memories had grown wilt with life.

You'd grow to accept it, you trusted yourself to that, maybe not now, maybe not until decades past, when you're on a rocking chair on the front porch of a lake house. But you would.

Natasha’s death wasn’t spectacular, she didn’t get a street or a school named after her, her poses weren’t sculptures in museums, or featured in Smithsonian’s. She simply existed. From the span of indescribable time on Earth. That was the most beautiful part, she was kept alive in the minds that knew her, not in the cinderblock pieces of public space to be observed by hundreds, or on the piece of graveled road that would become rusted with holes and overgrown by weeds.

She’d stay, in the minds of yours, in the head that had a thousand streets with her name, a hundred sculptures of her, a million movements Yelena would hate.

In your mind, grief never banked the shore, never fell or washed over, it morphed, in the sun, in the rain, in the wind, it glinted in light until you saw it for what it only ever was;

Love.

[teklarn]

I NEED A PART TWO FOR BAUKGOU’S AWKWARD CONFESSION!!

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓽. 2

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

a/n: k the first one kinda blew up and i've been on tumblr for like a week and it made me rly happy receiving the requests ty <33 thank u for all the reblogs too !! this is a bit later than i hoped it would come out b/c half of the original fic was deleted by accident, but i’m on summer break until sept 5 so hopefully i’ll still update frequently. 

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: lil angsty, fluffy at the end

warnings: cursing, one-sided pining, gave reader a quirk, the fighting scene is bs i cannot write action scenes at all im so sorry lol,  second hand embarrassment for our dearest dynamight :(

word count: 2507

pls don't mind any typos! i try to edit to the best of my ability but i tend to type fast and i might miss a few or a lot of things. 

- - -

read part one here my loves !!

you found yourself bored, cheeks puffing out as you swirled around the drink in your glass cup, sitting across from midoriya. he was muttering again, which you’d always found cute, however you weren’t listening this time at all. 

part of the reason you’d rejected bakugou was due to the fact midoriya had requested your attention first, and not as friends. if you’d told bakugou that, it would just wound his delicate ego on top of the fact that you truly had no interest in him whatsoever. 

at the moment, though, he was the only thing on your mind. there was no sudden spark of attraction you’d felt when he’d confessed. of course, anyone would find it flattering that the katsuki bakugou found you attractive. his standards were higher than the clouds. 

at the moment, it felt like something was blocking your chest from feeling something for him, however you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. 

“—it was amazing, right, y/n? y/n?” 

your eyes flickered up to meet the emerald, wide-eyed eyes of your friend. you contemplated lying, but it was no use. shaking your head softly and pursing your lips, you set your drink down. “i’m sorry, midoriya. i’m just kind of...out of it, i guess you could say?” 

he cocked his head to the side. “’out of it’?” he repeated. 

“yeah,” you sighed, head pounding. 

“is everything alright? maybe today isn’t the best time for this.” 

“yeah,” you agreed. “maybe.” 

“do you want to go back to the dorms?” 

you nodded, massaging your temples. “yeah, yeah let’s go home.” 

midoriya let out a soft chuckle through his nose, smiling. “alright.” he offered his hand, and you gladly let him heave you up. 

“i’m sorry about this. honestly, midoriya, i enjoy your company, i really do. but i never assumed you’d catch feelings for me too—” 

“too?” he blinked. the two of you continued on your way back to Heights Alliance. 

you gulped. “yeah, there’s—” 

“are you saying you caught feelings for me, as well?”

your eyes fell blank, lips parting in question. “no, uh. you know what? never mind.” you giggled gently in hopes the two of you would laugh it off without another thought. perhaps you should keep you and bakugou’s quiet interaction to yourself. midoriya and bakugou were already rivals enough. 

- 

the following week was agonizing in many ways. sitting beside bakugou guaranteed that you would get strange, judgmental looks. it never guaranteed his stolen glances. when you’d catch him staring, his cheeks would flare up, and you swore he had smoke puffing out his ears. 

each time, he looked as if he would explode. what can you expect from a guy like him? 

it was easy to assume you���d just pissed him off, though. you weren’t the type of person to tell everyone you’d been asked out, but you needed to speak to someone about it. the thought had been nagging you, stuck at the back of your mind but just on the tip of your tongue. 

you even found that you were distancing yourself from midoriya, who, after asking you out, had insisted you begin calling him izuku. over everyone else, you’d choose him to speak to about the matter, but ever since you’d discovered he had feelings all along, it was strange being around him. 

you viewed him differently. he shot you glimmering smiles and blushed softly when you said his first name. 

“y/n?” 

you twisted around to see mina rocking on her heels behind you. “yes?” 

“are you okay? you seem...how do i put this.” she tapped a pink finger against her lips. “off. you seem off. is everything alright?” 

your brows raised. “oh, yeah. i’m good. thanks for checking in.” 

“is there anything you want to talk about?” she adjusted her hero costume. you and the rest of the girls were currently changing for another training exercise. 

yaoyorozu fixed her hero costume. “i don’t mean to impose on anything, but i have to agree with mina, y/n. of course, there’s no pressure to tell us anything. you’re under no obligation to unless you need and want to talk to someone, but we’re here if you need us, okay?” 

you nodded, smiling softly. “thanks you guys.” 

- 

it was the same training as before, however you were able to select a partner of your own. being that there were 21 students in the class, there was always ought to be a group of three, or one person left out. you’d come into yuuei out of pure luck, as some like to put it. 

you’d found it offensive they’d assumed it was that and not your own pure skill. it’d taken a while to re-convince yourself that you were worthy of being in the class, even if you were usually the odd one out. 

most students had already bonded by the time you arrived here, so finding a partner wasn’t always easy. once you and midoriya had gotten close, you two did most things together, however at the moment, you weren’t quite feeling it. 

surprisingly, your eyes caught bakugou standing alone, eyes scanning the room for a partner. kirishima must have partnered up with another friend, then. it was always them together. 

unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough to avoid either of them. bakugou was already trotting up to you, eyes locked on your figure just as midoriya began jogging to your side. 

in perfect unison, they asked, “be my partner?” (in two very different tones, of course.) 

you blinked between them, about to answer when aizawa came up behind you three. 

“are you guys in the group of three?” your teacher deadpanned. 

your shoulders slumped. “yeah, i guess so.” 

“get to work. you’ve already wasted five minutes standing around.” 

you nodded politely. “yes, sensei.” 

you swallowed. bakugou’s crimson gaze was pinning you in your spot, and midoriya’s lips thinned with a lack of enthusiasm when bakugou looked back at him. 

“get to work, you three,” aizawa repeated, walking away. 

“i can take on both of you.” bakugou cracked his knuckles. 

you clenched your fists. “we already know you’re at the top of the class, bakugou. there’s no need to rub it in our faces.” 

he averted his eyes, cheeks flushing red. it was like a sad, silly way of letting you know you won this fight. 

“i’ll go against you two,” you said, adjusting your hero costume. 

midoriya’s eyes widened. “what? y/n, but—” 

“but i’m not strong enough?” you finished for him. you knew where they ranked in strength, and while yours was just as powerful, if you let one thing slip, your arrows would disappear and you’d be dust. “that’s exactly my point, you two are practically at the top of the class with your quirks.” 

“tch, don’t hold back,” bakugou said, readying himself. 

“don’t go easy on me,” you mocked. 

“y/n, do you really think this is a good idea—” before izuku could finish, you and bakugou launched yourselves at one another. 

you charged forwards. an arrow flew from your hand, twisting its way right through the smoke of an explosion. when it cleared, bakugou was nowhere to be seen. 

a gasp fell from your lips as you turned around just a little too late. your ears rang terribly as your back collided with the ground. 

izuku cried out. green lightning flashed, and he was at your side in a moment. “kacchan!”

you groaned, sitting up. bakugou cut through the smoke with an arm. “fight me, damned nerd. there aren’t any pauses in a real fight.” 

you wriggled yourself away from midoriya. “midoriya, you’re my enemy in this.” 

“bu—” 

“no buts. fight me. and don’t hold back.” 

midoriya noted the determination in your eyes and stood, giving you a sure nod. you were back on your feet in a second. bakugou flew in the air and came crashing down just as fast as he conjured a blast in his right hand. 

attacking wasn’t your best option right now. you were smart enough to know that. an arrow appeared flat at your back and pulled you from where bakugou was targeting. 

cement flew into the air. 

that blast could have wounded you badly. possibly killed you, if he’d hit the right spots. 

in the air, you examined their zealous features. midoriya’s brows were furrowed in that determined smolder. 

bakugou, as always, looked angry. as expected, he charged first, shooting himself into the air. his foot nearly collided with your face, missing my barely an inch. you took your shot, revealing the arrow you’d hidden behind your back. the tip collided with his chest. 

you left the arrow to complete its command and stick your blonde opponent to the wall and trap him there while you went after midoriya. 

while he bested you in strength, you did the same to him when it came to speed. you dodged his punches like they were weak attempts at hitting a ball in a park. 

you grinned. in a battle of strength and speed, whoever landed the first hit would win. there was no question. 

twisting in the air, you allowed the ball of your foot to shove midoriya to the ground. he cried out as his face was crushed into the cement. 

it was perfect timing, as bakugou ripped free of your hold, the arrow keeping him in one spot dissolving into air as soon as its purpose was lost. 

your head whipped around to see him charging for you. 

your fingers curled. the headache pounding at your temples was beginning to get hard to ignore. 

bakugou launched himself at you, spinning in the air like a missile. he really wasn’t going to howitzer you...right? 

when he didn’t slow down, you threw your body to the right, the attack just barely missing your leg. it scorched a bit of your thigh. a groan fell from your lips as you cupped the area around the burn, shuddering with pain. 

bakugou’s chest was puffed proudly as he marched up to you, hands cracking with excited explosions. 

he pulled back his right arm, ready to spark up another fight as midoriya recollected himself. you bit your lip to hide the fact you were quivering. 

it was sudden, but bakugou paused when he saw your hand fly up. 

“give me a minute...” you gasped out, skin still sizzling. 

“y/n! are you alright?” 

you didn’t respond. midoriya smacked his friend’s arm. “kacchan! what’re you thinking?”

“midoriya, i’m fine. don’t stress over it.” you limped to your feet, rejecting the extended hand from your green-haired friend. “i’ll just go see recovery girl.” 

“do you need—” 

you smacked midoriya’s hand away, a little bit more rude than you intended it to be. “i’ll be...fine.” you offered a weak smile to hopefully make up for your tiny outburst. 

although you could see in his eyes he wanted to help, midoriya nodded and stood by, hand falling back to his side. you clutched around the patch of burned skin. the sting had faded a bit, however there was a soreness to the wound that felt like a constant stabbing to your leg. 

you swallowed the pain down, marching towards the exit with determination and a bit of a limp.

you looked back to see midoriya had gone off to tell mr. aizawa what was going on. your teacher nodded, understandingly. 

there were a few worried glances and offers for help in the hall, but you’d neglected them all and found yourself relieved to see recovery girl in her office, typing away. 

she turned as the door opened. “please knock beforehand next time—oh, dear. y/n? are you alright?” 

you gave a tense nod. “mhm. just got a bit banged up in training today.” 

the old woman pursed her lips, smile lines becoming evident. “i see.” she led you to the small cot reserved for patients such as yourself and directed you to sit down. 

she examined the bruise. “it’s fairly bad. what happened?” 

you made a gesture to the door. “i was brawling with bakugou and things got...intense.” 

“that boy has quite an extreme side to him, as i’ve come to notice.” 

“mhm,” you agreed. 

“unfortunately, y/n, i have no ointments to be able to treat this properly.” 

you nodded sheepishly before the old woman smooched your cheek. a soft green glow radiated around you. 

when she pulled back, she said, “now, your body will be trying to catch up on the healing process. that’s what my quirk does. speed up recoveries. since it’s sped up, you’ll require some rest, preferably sleep. i’ll make sure your teachers know you’re excused for the rest of the day, sound good?” 

“yes, thank you recovery girl.” 

she pushed herself out of her rolling chair and left the room, smiling at you.

your eyes fluttered shut not long after that. 

- 

the sun was gone when you woke up, the hallway light flickering off. 

“good, you’re awake.” 

you looked to the left. you cried out, gathering the white sheets around yourself despite being completely clothed. “bakugou! what the hell? you stalker! you creep!” 

bakugou took the slap you gave him on his arm. it was light, and didn’t do much damage. 

“what...what do you want?” 

even in the dark, you could tell bakugou’s cheeks were burning red. “about...about the other day. i wanted to talk to you about it.” 

your chest fluttered in unwanted hope. “there’s nothing to talk about.” 

“dammit, y/n, i wish there wasn’t anything to talk about. you’re insufferable and annoying and i can’t stand being around you because no matter what’s going on, you make my chest feel all funny. it’s stupid, and i can’t take my eyes off of you.” 

heat rushed to your cheeks. “i’m flattered, really. but i-” 

“i’m not asking you to reciprocate my shitty feelings. if anything, it’s better if you don’t.” 

“bakugou, i wasn’t...” you paused. 

“you what?” he snapped, voice soft despite his tone. 

“i was going to say that ever since you...ever since you asked me out, i’ve been conflicted about my own feelings.” 

“the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“i’m not sure if i like you back or not, bakugou. but hearing you say all this...makes me want to give it a shot. sort of. also, why the hell are you watching me sleep?” 

bakugou swept hair from his eyes. “don’t go and try to change the subject on me, dumbass.” 

you gulped. 

“so what’re you saying?” 

“i’m saying,” you started, “i’m saying that maybe i want to go out on that date with you.” 

“say it again.” 

“what?” you looked up, his eyes boring into yours. 

“i said i want you to say it again. tell me you want to go out on a date with me.” 

it startled you how sure he was when he knew what you wanted, too. this was unlike the last attempt to ask you out. 

“katsuki bakugou, i want to go on a date with you.” 

he grinned. “where to?”

[newgenog]

Let Me In (Rest)

Wildmoore Week Day 4 - Song/Quote

If I had to choose just one artist's music to be the score for scenes of Wildmoore, I'd choose H.E.R. She's who I hear in my head whenever they're together. This was written after 309 as a personal wish fulfillment, and was originally titled "Rest." More at the end.

Ryan is home from the unsuccessful Poison Ivy hunting trip (and Sophie's unexpected kiss). The team has demanded that she get some rest, since nothing else can be done until Luke creates more of the serum.

R Cell: WYD?

S Cell: Why aren't you sleeping?

R Cell: Would if I could

S Cell: Want to talk about it?

R Cell: 😒

S Cell: You know what you need?

R Cell: ???

S Cell: spaland.com/buff-body-scrub

R Cell: Buff?! Like naked?

S Cell: Did you even click the link? 

R Cell: 😶

S Cell: "Body exfoliation polish eliminates all traces of dull skin cells and impurities, and leaves your skin smooth and silky." Doesn't that sound relaxing?

R Cell: I'm good

S Cell: What about this one? "Aroma massage uses fragrant oils to help aid tissue recovery and decrease pain specifically designed to promote circulation." That suit can't be doing much for your circulation.

R Cell: Soph, I don't need a stranger thinking I'm in a domestic abuse situation, while they try to massage my battle worn skin. 

S Cell: Hmmm… I'm not a stranger.

R Cell: Thanks, but I don't think you getting a rub down next to me will actually help.

S Cell: That's not what I meant.

R Cell: 👀

S Cell: 😂

R Cell: 🙄

S Cell: Do you trust me?

R Cell: 🧐

S Cell: RYAN!

R Cell: SOPHIE!

S Cell: Come over.

R Cell: I thought I was supposed to be sleeping.

S Cell: But you're not. So come over. 

R Cell: We watching a movie or something?

S Cell: or something

R Cell: …

S Cell: Trust me! Just come. 

R Cell: ok omw

Ryan knocks on Sophie's door 15 minutes later in jeans and a blue and pink flannel button up. Sophie answers wearing an orange pajama shorts set.

S: Hey! Kinda weird to let you in through the front door.

B: Didn't seem like you wanted me to come in my bat suit, but I also didn't realize it was a pajama party.

S: You won't be in those clothes for long, either. Come in.

Ryan walks through the door, skeptically.

R: So, what's the plan?

S: Go in there, change into this, and meet me in the bathroom.

Sophie hands Ryan a too long red, plush robe, and points to her bedroom. Ryan looks around, slowly, clearly noticing that the room is lit only by candlelight. Ryan raises an eyebrow, but doesn't argue, and takes the robe, disappearing into Sophie's room. While undressing, she hears water rushing in the bathroom. When she meets Sophie, the tub is filled with tall suds. Resting on the tub is a tray with a glass of wine, and epsom salt remains on the countertop.

R: You made me a bath?

S: Yup! Hop in. Call if you need anything. 

Sophie turns to leave.

R: Where are you going?

S: To the couch...but I can stay?

Ryan responds with a small smile. Sophie turns slightly, but doesn't leave.

S: Get in.

When the shuffling ends, Sophie sits on the floor next to the tub and a fully submerged Ryan whose knees are to her chest.

R: Thank you. I honestly can't remember the last time I've done this. 

S: I figured as much. 

Ryan closes her eyes, looking tired but content. They both sit quietly, listening to "Let Me In" by H.E.R. playing in the background. Ryan grins.

S: What?

R: I like this song.

S: Do you? 

Sophie looks skeptical this time. Ryan only responds by widening her smile, knowingly, still not opening her eyes.

S: Let me wash your back?

R: Okay.

Ryan is seated in the center of the tub, with plenty of room on either side. Sophie shifts to her knees, grabs a cloth, and begins. Ryan visibly relaxes as Sophie works.

S: Better?

R: Getting there. 

Sophie smirks, pleased.

S: I need a minute before you get out. Meet me in the room when you're ready? 

R: Okay.

S: Don't forget the wine. It's my favorite.

Before long, Ryan enters Sophie's room in the robe that lands at her ankles. The comforter is gone from the bed, and a sheet folded into a square sits on top. There's one pillow centered to the headboard. Ryan hesitates.

R: I'm still not sleepy.

S: I didn't think you would be. Get under the sheet, laying face down, and I'll be right back.

Sophie heads back into the bathroom without waiting for Ryan to respond. When she returns, Ryan has completed her assignment. She's in the middle of the bed. Sophie sits beside her.

S: You trust me?

Ryan only nods.

Sophie pulls the sheet away from one of Ryan's arms, and uses her warm, oil-covered hands to massage from Ryan's shoulder to her fingers. She continues this way with the other arm, and then both legs and feet, replacing the sheet before exposing a different area, adjusting pressure anytime Ryan tenses, and really focusing on any tight spots.

S: I gotta say, I wasn't sure what to expect, but it looks like the suit is doing what it's supposed to.

R: Yeah, it usually only hurts beneath the skin.

S: Is this okay? You need me to do anything differently?

R: It's perfect. 

Sophie finally makes her way to Ryan's back. Her breathing has slowed, and most of the tension has subsided from Ryan's muscles.

When Sophie is done, Ryan seems to have fallen asleep. She grabs the comforter and covers Ryan with it. Sophie turns toward the door, quietly.

R: Stay?

S: You need to sleep. 

R: I will. Stay. 

Sophie smiles gently. She grabs a pillow for herself, and then climbs just under the comforter, laying on her side to face Ryan. She softly strokes Ryan's back until she's asleep.

~~~~~

R: You're still here.

S: Where else would I be?

Ryan smiles at Sophie, her appreciation palpable. Even though Ryan was lying in Sophie's bed, there was no mistaking Sophie's meaning: Sophie would always be by Ryan's side.

R: What time is it?

Ryan's forehead creases, gravity pulling the load of their problems back onto her. Her eyes widen, and Sophie can see that processing and planning has resumed in Ryan's mind.

S: Ryan, it's okay!

Ryan's eyes soften and round out the way they always do when Sophie truly sees her, the way no one else ever has.

R: How is anything okay?

S: Let me rephrase. It's going to be okay. We're going to get through this, together.

Sophie sees the doubt in Ryan's face, as anguish and pressure threaten to consume her once more. Sophie does what comes naturally and reaches for Ryan, this time - for the first time - lightly sliding the backs of her fingers from Ryan's furrowed brow down the length of her jawline, helping her relax the way Sophie trusts her touch to do. Having succeeded, she resists the urge to continue, letting her hand sit in the small space between them.

S: Luke is still working on the serum. There's been no new activity: we think Pam drained herself when she attacked us, and needs to recharge. And, frankly, so do you. So just breathe, and lay here for now. I need you in one piece when you run out to save the world again.

Ryan loosens some, the tiniest start of a smile creeping into the corner of her mouth. Sophie understands that, for now, Ryan is choosing to stay with her instead of sprinting, self-sacrificially back into danger.

R: So, you're not going to tell me what time it is? How long have I been sleeping?

S: About 10 hours. You barely moved. 

Ryan was still tummy side down, but angled towards Sophie. Any movement she'd made throughout the night only served to slowly inch Ryan closer to her. 

R: Damn. And you've been here the whole time?!

S: Mostly. I had to get up at some point and blow out the candles. I wasn't sure how much longer you'd be out when the sun came up, and thought you might wake up thirsty. So I grabbed you a water. 

Ryan finally let's herself smile more fully while listening to Sophie describe the ways she's taken care of her, again differently than anyone else ever has. 

R: I never hate you, Sophie. I never have hated you.

This catches Sophie completely off guard, and her eyes want to betray her, nearly filling at the brim. She clears her throat and breaks their gaze in an effort to quickly recover. This isn't the first time Ryan has unexpectedly offered any real insight into what Sophie might mean to her, but it's rare and therefore overwhelming each time.

S: You don't have to-

Ryan turns completely onto her side, effectively interrupting Sophie and leveling their eyes.

R: I do, and I should have done it sooner.

Ryan slides her hand under Sophie's, and entangles their fingers. It's not beyond Ryan's awareness that one of them is still fully unclothed, but it occupies an insignificant fraction of her focus.

R: I have been in my head… And...I'm sorry if I've made you think I feel anything but grateful that you're here with us every day. With me.

Sophie swallows audibly, and cracks a ginger smile, acknowledging Ryan's effort. Ryan doesn't do this often. The last time Sophie received an apology from Ryan, it was unwarranted. Ryan was taking full responsibility for Jordan's attack, as though she should have single-handedly been able to stop the entire and ages-old Black Glove organization from executing their contracts from the rich and famous. Ryan tightens her hold on Sophie's hand.

R: I couldn't have made it through any of this without you. You've been here for me since before you even knew I was Batwoman, doing what you could. And… of all the Crows I've ever had to deal with, you were the only one who seemed...I could tell you really just wanted more for me.

Sophie squeezes Ryan's hand back. They do need to have this conversation - it's long overdue. But this wasn't why she called Ryan over. This visit was intended to relax Ryan's mind so she could think more clearly when it matters. There would be no more welcoming fiery explosions to escape feeling crippled by these lost battles. If they were going to win the war, Ryan needed to be centered. 

S: How are you feeling?

Ryan feels a lot of different things all at once, and struggles to choose which feeling to share.

S: How about this? Are you hungry?

R: I could eat.

S: Admittedly, our options are limited. I haven't been around here much. I have oatmeal? And coffee. 

R: Two things I love.

S: I keep some extra toiletries in the bathroom cabinet. I'll meet you in the kitchen when you're ready?

Ryan nods, and Sophie winks at her before somewhat unwillingly releasing Ryan's hand and sliding out of the bed.

In the kitchen, Ryan takes a seat at the table and watches Sophie finish up before joining her. 

R: This is different. 

S: What? Me being domestic?

R: That- but also, I'm here during the day, and not suited up, trying to fill you in on the monster of the week.

S: I guess we should do this more often, then. 

They both sit with that idea, enjoying it, and letting it sink in. Things were going to be different, now.

So, I actually went to a spa, and had a really uncomfortable scrub, and this idea went through my head as a distraction. Later, though, I had a really great massage (and was able to listen to music during it). The idea continued growing as I listened to "Let Me In." I thought I would be done when they went to bed, but I couldn't shake the feeling that the show would probably never circle back to Sophie saying she didn't know if Ryan hated her. And here we are.

[insomniacrobyn]

Hi! Could I request a fluff alphabet for Scaramouche ( or Zhongli )?

tysm for your time ^^

Title: Fluff Alphabet W/ Zhongli

Reader: Gender neutral

A/N: I wish I could do Scaramouche but unfourtunatly I wasn't playing Genshin when he made appearance 😔. I was very sad when I realized. Also, my ask box is still open if anyone has requests maybe even more fluff alphabets.

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

There are many things that Zhongli adores about you however he adores how kind and patient you are. Zhongli greatly admires how willing you are to help the people of Liyue. He finds whenever he sees you running around doing tasks for madame ping or the other citizens his heart just swells with pride at being able to call you his lover.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Zhongli adores your smile. As cheesy as that sounds it improves his day when he sees you smile. He loves seeing you smile when he arrives home from work or when he wakes you up in the morning and you give a soft smile to him.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Zhongli adores cuddling with you. He loves having you rest your head on his chest as he told you stories about his time as an Archon. However, sometimes he adores being the small spoon. This doesn't happen often, normally after he woke up in a cold sweat from a nightmare stemming back to the Archon war.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Zhongli's ideal date is taking you out for a meal that he would pay for when he remembers his wallet and then go for a walk with you around the harbor. The idle chit-chat that you two would share as you wandered the streets was always pleasant and greatly appreciated by Zhongli.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

At the beginning of the relationship, Zhongli was very much only showing you his best until he felt he trusted you enough. After that, Zhongli would express his emotions easily with you and be free from fear of judgment.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Zhongli would be lying if he didn't say he wanted to start a family with you. The way you interacted with the children of Liyue harbor only spurred this desire on. He could see himself spending the rest of his life with you. He didn't care if the kids were your blood or a child that you both adopted.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Zhongli does buy you gifts from time to time. However, he doesn't think that you can only express your love with material items. After all his love language is quality time and acts of service.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Zhongli adores holding your hand. Anytime the two of you are seen in public you are holding hands. Zhongli rubs a circle on the back of your hand when you are walking. it also helps him not lose you on the busy market days of Liyue harbor.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If you ever come back home from your commission injured Zhongli will go straight to taking care of you. He will not let you do anything no matter how minor it is. Zhongli claims that it is best that you rest as much as possible until you are 100% better.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Zhongli isn't one to pull pranks on you. However, Hu Tao pulls pranks on the two of you quite often so in a way that makes it up for the two of you.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Zhongli's kisses are full of adoration. Whether it be the quick peck he gives you before he leaves home for work that's message is I love you and I will see you later. Or the kiss he would give you throughout the day out of impulse. Also, the kisses full of desperation and longing after you return from an especially long commission which always leads to more.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Zhongli's love languages are quality time and acts of service. He loves just spending time with you at home or in the harbor just your presence being so soothing to him. He also always goes out of his way to help or make you tea, just to see the smile that you would give him in return. However, none of this stops him from telling you how he feels he just prefers to show it.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

One of Zhongli's fondest memory of you is when he told you he was the geo Archon shortly after the rite of ascension. He feared how you would react. However, he was pleasantly surprised when you accepted it and told him that you wouldn't treat him any differently.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Zhongli's worst fear is the fact that he will more than likely outlive you. He doesn't want to go through the pain of losing someone he cares so deeply for again.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Zhongli always knows when something is amiss with you. Whether it is you are upset and trying to hide it from him or when you have a surprise planned for him. It is like he knows before he even sees you.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Zhongli is quite old-fashioned with names and tends to go with pet names like love and darling. However, he does call you my lily on rare occasions.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Zhongli quite enjoys just spending time with you curled up on the couch in your shared home with you on his lap your head resting on his shoulder as he tells you stories or as he reads. He also enjoys going to the market with you and just visiting different places in Liyue.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Lose it by Oh Wonder reminds Zhongli of you. He doesn't really know why but when he hears it he thinks of you.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Once you and Zhongli have been in a relationship for a while he begins to become more and more open with you. This is of course after he knows you won't take advantage of his ex-archon status.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Zhongli asked you out after he knew you for about ten months. He wanted to make sure that the emotions he was feeling were genuine and if they were was a hint that you reciprocated these feelings.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Whenever you are upset Zhongli will do his best to help cheer you. Whether that be reassuring you that want someone had said about you was inaccurate. Or just giving you a shoulder to cry on. Zhongli was your anchor that kept you tethered to reality.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

Zhongli is incredibly proud to call you his partner. He might not seem to be the one to show off but he wants to show you off as if you are the finest noctilucous jade in all of Teyvat.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Knowing that you can hold yourself in a battle reassures Zhongli greatly however he does hate it when you do come back injured. Unfortunately, that comes with the nature of fighting. However, if Zhongli had to use his polearm to defend you he wouldn't hesitate to. He has watched so many people enter and leave his life that he will do anything to keep you in his for as long as possible.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Zhongli is quite good at picking up on your microexpressions, to the point that you are like an open book to him at times. Nothing gets past him easily.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Zhongli would 100% propose to you when the time is right. That time being two years into your relationship before he would propose to you he would take you on probably the nicest date he could think of. I can see him proposing to you during the lantern rite.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Having you run your fingers through Zhongli's hair after a busy day calms him down so quickly. Having you near him is like a massive relaxant itself. He finds that any problems that plagued his mind before are gone once he is with you.