#How he had the fucking BALLS of STEEL to jump off that tower

[blissfali]

THEY DID NOT MAKE SKY ZONE FOR THE FAT PEOPLE

[hazbincalifornia]

Boil Over

Summary: Aster is tired of the routine they've developed. (He's currently 15, and Stella is 20.)

Wordcount: 1500

Warnings: Some pretty harsh words.

Bonus soundtrack that I had on loop while writing:

It was dark when Stellaluna half-stumbled into Aster’s room.

She wasn’t drunk. (Mostly.) She was also still in possession of her bra, underwear, skirt, and most of her leggings- they’d gotten torn up in the thighs a little- so she counted it as a pretty good night. Honestly, she just wanted to say hi if he was still awake. She could hear breathing, but it wasn’t as slow and even as it usually was when he was asleep.

“Hello?”

“Turn the light on.”

He sounded… fuck, she wasn’t sure how he sounded, but it sure wasn’t happy. Annoyed? Exasperated? Angry? Way more like Papa than he had the right to be? She flipped on the switch and grimaced as she saw that he was wearing his cape while sitting on his bed, hair combed to a shine.

So he’d known she was coming.

“If you’re busy, I can-”

“Nope.” He snapped his fingers, and the vines on the plant in the corner- what had he named it, Alixea?- lunged forward, winding around her wrists before she could blink and dragging her forward at the same time he stood up.

“Do you know what tonight is?”

“I’unno, Tuesday?”

“Tonight, Stella, is the fifth night this month you’ve shown up in my room past three AM.” He glanced down her body, then over to her arms, half a moment for each side. “You’re not hurt, right?”

“No, tonight was fine, just-” She coughed, and could still taste the whipped-cream vodka on her tongue. “Just wanted to see if you were still awake.”

“Okay, good.” He steeled himself, snapping his fingers again to force her down on one knee as the vines yanked her wrists down.

“Hey! The fuck is this about?”

“I’m done.”

Her head tilted, one eye raising in confusion as she tried standing up, but he set a foot on the thigh of her folded leg. “Done with what? Did somebody shove a stick up your ass?”

He reached behind him before dropping dirty fabric on the floor, and her guts twisted like a knife in a wound as she realized they were all pieces of her old clothes.

“Geez, I didn’t think you were that kind of little pervert.”

“You know damn well that’s not what this is about. I’m done with this. I can’t have you stumble in here with your head up your ass all the time, stuffed with jizz on both sides or stabbed or shot or full of drugs you can’t even explain to me, then pass out and choke on your vomit and- and-” His fingers balled up into fists and his foot dug into her thigh before pushing himself off. “You’re a fucking mess, Stella, and don’t you dare try and tell me it’s all an act because it hasn’t been for years.”

Her own fist curled as she yanked her wrists back, nearly pulling the vines out of the plant before Aster waved a hand to let her go, growling as he did.

“Don’t hurt her because I’m right!”

“You don’t know shit, okay? I’m fine! I know what I-”

“No, you don’t!” His eyes were wide, and he ran a hand through his hair, tail curled around his leg with the end flicking back and forth. “You say you know what you’re doing, and you know what happens? You show up in my room at two in the morning, covered in vomit and gore and dirt and Satan knows what else, and every time I help you because you say you don’t want to worry Dad and Papa, but-”

“It’s not that big of a deal! Fine, you don’t want me to bug you? I’ll fix myself up next time!” She straightened, towering over him, but he just jumped up on his chair, refusing to concede the height to her. “I always come back alive, I’m not a fucking dumbass. You think you can lecture me? You don’t know-”

“I know plenty, and I fucking had to because my sister has been coming to me about her idiot moves since I was twelve! You pull so much shit and I have to pick up your pieces because you can’t do it yourself anymore, and I’d feel awful if you died because it would be my fault!” Tears were starting to run down the sides of his cheeks, but he angrily scrubbed them away.

“You always wanted to be a big boy, didn’t you?” She can feel the hiss in her throat, steam and bile vomited up like the blood when she got punched in the gut last week and hid it under a longer shirt than usual. “All the time at work you insist that I need your help, but when I ask for it, then it’s somehow bad all of a sudden?”

“That’s for work, everybody gets hurt at work sometimes, this is you pulling shit because you want to impress a guy who thinks you’re a joke!”

“Don’t you dare bring Al into this-”

“I’ve always told you he’s bad news-”

“And you know him better than I do? You’ve met him like twice!” The air is starting to ripple, pressure rising as magic tears the fabric of reality between the two of them, fingers digging so far into palms that shimmering black drips down black and gray hands. “If you don’t want me coming to you? I can handle myself if you’re going to be such a brat about it, and you’re not even grateful for me keeping the heat off when you know you couldn’t handle it.”

“I don’t want you destroying yourself and telling me it’s for me!” Aster shot back. “I never asked you to throw yourself on the fire to protect me from shit I’m still getting anyway, I’m trying to take care of myself but you just stand there like a dumb wall and hog all of the attention from everybody like the big stupid bitch you want everybody to think you are! You care way more than you say you do or you would have dropped this ages ago.” His eyes twitched. “You never cared about ‘protecting��� me, you just wanted everybody to look at you. You’re always the one everybody cares about no matter what I do.”

Her heart was beating so loud in her chest that she could feel it rattling in her brain, and her body felt wobbly, like it was going to turn to gelatin at any second. “Of course I cared about protecting you! You have no idea what it was like when you were little. Maybe nobody else cares because you can’t get your head out of your books and actually talk with people like a normal person without kissing the asses of everybody around. Nobody likes you because you’re fucking boring sometimes, and you can’t say that’s my fault-”

“I wouldn’t be boring if people gave me a chance, but you hog everything!” He jabbed at one of the shirts with the end of his tail, balling it up and chucking it at her, and she realized it was crusted over with blood and something that had probably been a drink at one point. “Put a shirt on.”

“What, am I hurting your little baby eyes with a little bare skin?”

“I don’t want to see my sister in my room half-naked unless there’s a good fucking reason, that’s not enough for you?”

“C’mon, Papa walks around-”

“Papa also doesn’t smell like sex and booze and blood all the time! I can’t sleep without worrying you’re going to walk in and need me to put you back together and then we do it all again the next week. The least you can do is not shove your stained tits in my face in the process!” Aster spat out. “Fine, you don’t want to act like a proper princess, but can you please at least act like a decent person?”

Her bloody fingers dug into the shirt before she lobbed it at the floor. “I’m not a decent person now? You’re such a pretentious little prick, pretending you know everything about the world- you can piss right off to heaven and go sing with the cherubs if you’re so perfect, and I’ll go fuck off and leave you alone if I’m such a fucking problem.”

“Oh, I’m the one that’s the problem? You always insist you’ve ‘got it’ five hours before you show up fucked over and on the edge, so excuse me for having to be the adult!”

“I don’t have to get a lecture from the brat who barely has any friends!”

“I don’t have time for friends, I have to study to do something worthwhile so I can earn a little bit of respect, something you should consider instead of being a giant joke that wore out the punchline ages ago!”

Both of them were breathing hard and glaring at each other before she tore open a portal to the room they had on reserve for her at the Hotel. “You know what? Fine. I’ll leave you alone, then.”

“Don’t come crawling back to me when you realize I’m right!” he called out as she stepped through, and the portal slammed shut with a fizzing noise and a pop before all she could hear was herself, panting and snarling deep in her chest.

She fell on the bed and screamed into the pillow until it felt like her lungs were flooding and fit to burst.

[becomehaikyuu]

Haikyuu Chapter 85: Omnivorous

REFLECTION:

The chapter starts at midnight with Hinata happy to be arriving at the camp...AT NIGHT!

(Hinata, post-spiking a rough ball at practice.)

Also, despite assuring Yaichi that the two were cool now, the other players can see that Kageyama and Hinata are still barely talking to each other.

The next day, Kenma shows Hinata around Saitama (the rest of Karasuno and Nekoma are intruding on their date for some reason) where Hinata shows that he doesn't know what a steel tower is either. At the training camp, Haida steal Kenma's boy by bragging about how bigger he got over the season (no comment).

Now it's time for the practice game against Fukurodani, who loudly and cheerfully announce that they ain't fucking around. Kageyama sets up Hinata for a Quick Strike...but it's so unorthodox Hinata misses it. The next time, Kageyama fucks it up again but Hinata saves it mid-jump (!)...but it's weak so it doesn't even make it over the net. Meanwhile, Asahi spikes a ball so hard it gets out of bounds and the team completely beefs a synchronized attack. And Nishinoyo jumps too far to defend against a ball. At this point, the Nekoma's assistant coach is wondering what the hell is going on with Karasuno for them to be fucking up like this but Nekomata and I see what's going on.

Which I will digress to explain.

When I play Shining Force (An RPG game by Sega), through grit and toughness, I managed to level up everyone in my party so high that even the chimeras feared us (It helped that I found the Samurai...also, that chimera joke is for Shining Force fans only). Eventually, I got everyone's classes changed to get them better access to better attacks. Then, I sent them into battle. They were...significantly weaker in their new classes. I realized that I had to level them up in their new classes too despite everything I went through before. Our Karasuno boys are in the same boat: they got new techniques and better potential but they haven't practiced enough to actually implement their abilities properly yet. They may look like a hot mess on the court right now but any experienced watcher can see the acorn that will grow into the mighty oak. Just you wait...

Back to the story, Tsukishima is the only one who appears stagnant, not showing signs of improvement or of evolving. Karasuno loses 25-12 so Karasuno has the penalty of running to another building. Their unishment leads them to see one of the teams (I'm not bothering to remember the names) performing a Serve & Block, an evil move where one team serves and spikes to another team and them blocks where they predict they'll hit it back.

Later on, Yamaguchi goes to work on his serves and asks Tsukishima to join him. Tsukishima pulls the whole "I have a headache" routine and says that he's practiced enough all day, going off to chill somewhere, much to Yamaguchi's disappointment. However, before he can slink off, the chapter ends with Kuroo calling Tsukishima over to block for his team.

Don't put me in, coach.

[gojos-sidepiece-69]

Tokyo Tech Training- Chapter 1

"Hello Y/n?" You staring because I'm insanely attractive, or..."

You were instantly pulled back into reality, which unfortunately included the cocky, 6’ 3” bastard standing in front of you. His name was Gojo Satoru, but as he so enthusiastically reminded you, he was your superior and you were to call him Sensei. You felt a slight blush pepper your cheeks as you looked up and stuttered a defensive response, “What? N-no...” You could see the shadow of a smirk form around the corners of his irritating mouth. “All right, then try to pay attention. This is important.”

Gojo was in charge of training you alongside three other first-year Tokyo Tech students, and today happened to be your first day. You had barely gotten a chance to get acquainted with your new classmates, and your first impressions of the three included one pink-topped ball of energy, a spiky-haired lanky boy who had incredible eyelashes, and a quick-witted girl who seemed like a badass. You would get to know them later, you thought to yourself. For now, your first order of business was paying attention to what your Sensei was teaching you.

The classroom was small and hot, even more than usual for an August afternoon. You couldn’t tell if it was a bit warmer because you were alone in that classroom with a tall, (rather handsome man, however much you hated to admit to yourself). He was trying to explain the technicalities of Curses of various grades, drawing out diagrams and charts on a black chalkboard. Your eyes slowly wandered to his right hand, which was tightly gripping the chalk. How was his hand so large...your distracted eyes trailed along his arm to the back of his neck, and it was almost as if he could see you through the back of his head. He snapped around quickly and took two strides toward your desk.

He slapped his arms down on the desk and leaned down to tower over you, his face inches away from yours. Although he wore his blindfold, you could still feel his eyes piercing into yours. “Is this going to be a problem, sweetheart? Can’t pay attention to a single thing I’m teaching you?”

Sweetheart? Who the hell did he think he was? His Grade-A sarcasm was getting on your nerves. Embarrassed at being caught staring at your teacher, you averted your gaze and turned away. He took your chin between his thumb and index finger and turned you back towards him. In a much softer tone, he smiled and said “Come on, I know I’m dashing...but you just need to look past that and listen to what my pretty mouth is saying.” You wanted to slap him for making you feel so little...he let go of you and your face burned where he was gripping you. However, at the mention of his “pretty mouth,” part of you just had to check and see for yourself the truthfulness of this statement.

You sucked in air between your teeth as your eyes flitted over his lips. Pretty mouth, indeed. Did this man wear strawberry-flavored Lip-smackers? Why in the world were they so moisturized? I wonder how soft they are, you quietly thought to yourself...I wonder how good they feel.

You mentally steeled yourself and learned the rest of the lesson attentively, trying your hardest not to let your mind wander. You kept telling yourself that the heat was making you delirious. It was nothing else. When the lesson was finally over, you turned to walk out the door. “Wait, one more thing,” you heard Gojo say. As you twirled back around quickly, you could feel your uniform skirt ride up slightly. You could have sworn that for a split second, his gaze switched to your bare legs. But you would never know, as you had no idea what mysteries were under that blindfold.

From the other side of the classroom, he said, “We always have a beginning-of-term party at my place. It’s always a great time, and you can get to know your classmates and Sensei better. I’ll text you the address later, yeah? It’s tomorrow night at 9 PM. Better be there, sweetheart.” You knew that he was teasing you with that nickname because of your bitter attitude towards him, but a tiny (no, microscopic) part of you enjoyed it. Enjoyed being singled out by the strongest Jujutsu sorcerer. Although you were still somewhat intimidated by him, you couldn’t help but feel your confidence (or perhaps cockiness) arise. “We’ll see.” You said, and saw a slight raise in his eyebrows before you turned and walked out of the classroom.

You were glad it was Saturday, as the training from your first day at Tokyo Tech was overwhelming. You stretched and yawned, making your way out of your dorm room for the morning. Inside the hallway, you saw your fellow first-year sorcerers conversing sleepily with one another. They waved at you, the pink-haired boy named Yuji practically jumping up and down like a golden retriever puppy.

The spiky-haired boy named Megumi rolled his eyes at him and then looked over at you. The four of you chatted for a bit until Nobara suggested that you all go shopping together in downtown Tokyo on their day off. Your heart jumped at the thought; a day in Tokyo with your new friends, shopping for clothes you don’t need and buying far too many sweets? Your enormous sweet tooth was delighted at the thought. So you spent the rainy, cloudy day running from shop to street stall in Tokyo, laughing and taking stupid pictures and accidentally spilling strawberry Mochi on yourself. Damn-it, you thought. Why did the strawberry scent remind you of a certain teacher’s lips? No, stop it, you silently scolded yourself as you wiped the front of your shirt down furiously. Get your mind out of the gutter.

And just like that, it was almost 9 PM, and you were back at Tech getting ready with Nobara in her dorm room. Since it was a stormy night, you chose to wear black sweatpants and a fitted black long-sleeved top. Yes, you were a proprietor of the Bloutfit. And why not wear sweatpants, if it was storming outside and you were going to be drenched, anyways? You and Nobara ran through the rain and into a black Taxi cab, giving the driver the directions to Gojo’s address. After a fifteen minute drive, the driver parked in front of the sexiest high rise building you had ever seen. Did this fool live in a god damn penthouse? Where was he getting this much money? The more you learned about this man, the more curious you got. After paying the driver, you and Nobara dashed into the building but got soaked in the process. You huddled in the elevator, pushing the golden button for the 38th floor. You ascended and soon found yourself knocking on your Sensei’s door.

It was opened, and you made direct eye contact with Gojo’s chest. You took in the black sweatshirt he was wearing, and heard him say, “Hey, buddy. Eyes up here.” Boy, did he know how to make a fool out of you. “Hey,” you said, while looking up to meet his once again covered eyes. This time, however, he was wearing a pair of round sunglasses. You wanted to scream. Why wouldn’t he let anyone see his eyes? Whatever. You didn’t care.

Nobara, somehow perfectly dry now, pushed past him and made herself at home quickly, hopping onto a large plushy couch alongside Megumi and Yuji. How did she manage to get herself dried off? You guessed she was just further along with sorcery than you were. Sitting on the floor around the couch were three second-years, an innocent-looking boy named Toge, a tall, bespectacled girl named Maki, and a...yes, a large Panda. You still stood outdoors facing Gojo. “You’re wet,” he commented offhandedly. You were quick to stammer, “N-no, I’m not.” He leaned back into his doorframe and crossed his arms. “No, look at you, you’re soaked,” he replied, enjoying toying with your seemingly weak temperament. It took you a minute to realize he was talking about your clothes, not what was between your legs. You looked down and noticed your top clinging a little too tightly to your chest and swallowed. He laughed and said, “don’t sweat it, I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

He turned and you followed suit, trailing your wet footsteps through his apartment. You greeted your classmates and entered Gojo’s bedroom hesitantly. You immediately gasped, taking in the breathtaking view from the 38th floor of a Tokyo skyscraper. You were dazzled by the lights and whirring streetcars, and pressed your face and hands against the cool glass. You watched through the blur of raindrops, distracted until a slight touch at the small of your back made you jump. Gojo chuckled as you turned to face him. He handed you a black t-shirt of his, which was definitely five sizes too large on you. He so graciously turned around as you changed, but you soon came to realize you had another issue at hand.

Your bra was completely soaked through. Fuck, you thought. It better not be cold in his house. You put on his shirt, feeling conscious that you weren’t wearing anything underneath it. Luckily, it was rather warm in his room. “You can turn around now,” you said, and he took your wet clothes from you and disappeared into his bathroom. “All right, let’s get this party started!” He said when he came back, pulling you roughly by the arm back into the room with everyone else.

Yuji, ever the party animal, was in charge of the aux for the night. You laughed as he blasted “I wanna see some ass” by Jack Harlow, because of course he would. It felt like the apartment was shaking and your eardrums were going to burst from how loud the music was. You loved dancing at any chance you got, and so did everyone else at the party (except for Megumi, who took a little bit of convincing and hand-pulling from Nobara). Toge and Panda were linking arms and swinging each other around, Maki was busting down on the floor, and Nobara and Megumi were raising ruckus on top of the couch, occasionally grabbing onto a glass chandelier. Gojo was jumping from table to table, clearly having fun showing off.

Everyone had drinks in their hands and was getting absolutely sloshed in the presence of their ever-responsible adult chaperone, Gojo Sensei. Well, everyone but...you. You had a few, but you wanted to remember this night. Still vibing to this song, you jokingly started grinding you ass up against Yuji’s front and you both started laughing. After thirty more minutes of drinking and dancing, everyone crashed on the spot. Everyone except for you and your teacher.

You two were the only people there who were close to sober, thanks to your pacing and his insane alcohol tolerance (it’s the strongest)! “So, do these start-of-term parties usually turn in to sleepovers?” You jested. “Yeah, it’s much safer for them to sleep here if they’re wasted than try getting home on their own. Also, somehow the storm got ten times worse,” he chuckled. You smiled to yourself at how much he cared for his students. Your eyes wandered to his bedroom again, and he took notice immediately. “You liked the view, didn’t you? Want to come see it again?”

He took your arm and guided you once again to his room. He closed the door lightly and flopped onto his bed. You followed after him, inhibitions forgotten because of your two shots of sake. You laid up facing the ceiling, and he turned to face you, propped up on one elbow. You still stared at the ceiling, getting chills from his rudely staring eyes on you. Your chills, to your great misfortune, suddenly multiplied due to his AC suddenly blasting. Gojo’s eyes trailed down to your breasts, which looked delicious underneath his own loose black t-shirt. He swallowed, and he couldn’t deny that a little blood rushed south at the thought of him getting you aroused. “Cold isn’t it,” he pointed out, a long index finger taking a quick poke at one of your perked nipples. You felt your heart rate rise and fall more rapidly, and you turned to face this arrogant idiot who seemed to have a vice-like grip on your mind.

I’ll get him for that, you thought with vengeance, and straddled him while he was still laying down. You snatched off his sunglasses before his fast reflexes could help him, and your jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” you ogled at his crystal-like eyes. He laughed and quipped, “I knew you thought I was hot, sweetheart. You just won’t admit it to me.” You slanted your eyebrows angrily and said “I do not,” like a child. Like a third-grader refusing to admit they had a schoolgirl crush on their next-door-neighbor. “Really?” He raised an eyebrow and swiftly pulled down the band of your sweatpants with one finger. “Then why are you this wet?” He smiled, flashing you all of his stupid pearly whites. “I haven’t even touched you yet, princess.”

You gasped at the cold air hitting your bare skin, and looked down at yourself. There was no denying it, you were damp. “You know,” he said, slowly sitting up, “Jujutsu sorcerers have to be extremely in tune with all of their senses. Particularly touch.” He leaned in and whispered into your ear, “So consider this part of your training.”

Before you could snappily retort, he pulled you off of him and pinned you onto his white sheets. He towered above you, and smiled cunningly as he slipped off your sweatpants and snatched his shirt off from above your head. You laid before him in just a pair of black panties, (you are so committed to the Bloutfit), while he kneeled above you, still completely clothed. You appreciated the fact that he was wearing grey sweatpants, as you would see a growing erection pressed against them. You grew a bit conscious of the fact that you were almost completely exposed, while he was clothed, and you put up your hands to cover your chest. “Don’t even think about it,” Gojo tutted, prying your hands away and pinning them above your head with one of his hands. “Good girl,” he growled hungrily, and used his other hand to lightly grip your throat.

You closed your eyes and crashed your lips against his, immediately tasting sweet, sugary strawberry. His tongue ventured into your mouth and muffled a small moan of yours. He pulled back, and you could see a tiny trail of saliva connecting your lips. He kissed at your neck, marking his territory, and stopped right at your breasts.

He took a lap at one of your tits, swirling his tongue around the nipple. While his right hand kept both your arms pinned, his left fondled and played with your other breast. “Mmm....” he groaned with a smile. “Who knew you would taste so good?” He continued licking and squeezing at your breasts until you were a panting, blushing mess. He laughed at you. “Getting desperate, are we?” “Shut the fuck-,” you began whining at him, until you were shocked by one of his thumbs wrapping around the band of your panties. He pulled the band’s elastic and let it slap against your hip. “Stop being mean,” you whispered, and he let go of your arms.

He slowly lowered himself down between your legs and looked up at you. “No...” he tilted his head at you. “You’re going to beg for me. Won’t be so hard for you, since you’re so eager already,” he pointed out the wetness pooling between your thighs.

Instinctively, you closed your legs, feeling too nude. Again, Gojo sighed. “Aren’t you going to be a good girl and open your legs for me?” At this point, you could only moan quietly as he slowly opened your legs, and slipped off and placed your panties into the pocket of his sweatpants. “Wow, I wasn’t kidding. Your pretty little cunt is so wet for me.” He lowered his head and kissed a wet trail of sloppy kisses and bit up your right thigh, and then your left. He stopped right in front of your heat, and blew onto your clit. Exasperated, you begged, “please, Gojo. I need you right now.” “Where are your manners? Say the magic word.” He joked around.

How could this buffoon still be cracking jokes when he was between your legs, a centimeter away from ravishing your pussy with his tongue? You rolled your eyes and said, “please?” He looked up at you. “I was looking for Sensei, but I guess that’ll have to do.”

Once again not sparing you a chance to angrily reply, he dove in and licked circles around your swollen cunt until your legs were shaking. You gasped a breathy, “Gojo?!” as he slipped one of his long digits into your wetness, pumping in and out at a rapid pace that was making you lose your mind. You felt a buildup in your heat, threatening to release and wash over you. “Gojo, I-I think I’m gonna-,” but he wasn’t about to let that happen. Not yet. No, he was going to train you to cum when he wanted you to. So he pulled his finger out, and both of you moaned quietly (so as not to wake up your napping classmates and his napping students).

He shoved his finger into your mouth, eliciting a soft gag from you. “Lick it clean,” he instructed. You complied, tasting your own essence on his fingertips. He leaned back against his headboard. “Come here,” he said. He didn’t have to tell you twice.

You crawled over and straddled his lap, and you reached for the hem of his shirt. He laughed again at your helpless desperation, and removed it in one go. Your heart rate skyrocketed again as you took in his chiseled abs and broad chest. You were still panting and unsatisfied from Gojo not allowing your earlier release. He, however, was not tired out in the slightest. Of course, his stamina was unmatchable. He pulled the band of his own sweatpants down, and you were taken aback by his size. You knew he was tall, but...”I-I don’t think it’ll fit,” you muttered. He pulled your face down against his and mumbled against your lips, “I’ll make it fit.”

He leaned down and spit against your cunt, making you groan and buck your hips against him. “Was that a moan?” He asked in his usual, smart-ass tone. “Keep it down, will you? I don’t need you waking up the neighbors.” He put a large hand over your mouth, and simultaneously slid up into you. You wanted to cry at the stretch he gave you, but your ego couldn’t let that happen. He watched you get yourself off by moving up and down on his dick, going slowly at first. He wasn’t satisfied yet, so he gripped you around the hips and mercilessly moved you up and down himself. He watched, salivating, as your breasts bounced and you threw your head back. He muffled your moans, but he still smirked at the sound of you saying his name while drunk on pleasure. He wanted you to finish first, because being the last one standing was always a little boost to his overly-inflated ego.

“You can cum now. You’ve been wanting to for a while now, right? My little whore. Cum all over me.” This little round of dirty talk was enough to send you over the edge, and you held back your screams as you spasmed and collapsed onto him. He pulled out and came onto your chest, admiring how he painted it with himself. “You were such a good girl for me,” Gojo grinned. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.” He carried your limp body to the shower and helped clean himself off of you. He handed you another overly large t-shirt of his, because he loved seeing you wear his clothes and smell like him. Once back in the bed, he spread his legs and let you lay on top of him the entire night, while the storm continued to rage outside. Your last thoughts before drifting off into an undisturbed sleep were, “boy, does this moron know how to fuck.”

🌹

[the-sympathetic-villain]

To Make A Prince Smile

Life's been stressful and Remus is my comfort character, so enjoy some mostly comfort Remus hurt/comfort <3

Prompt: Remus + Arranged Marriage Prompt from @the-snake-god (+More Baking because I get a fair amount of Remus/Baking Prompts)

Characters: Remus, Patton Pairings: Platonic Intruality, Background eventual Logicality and Dukexiety

Word Count: 2836

Warnings: Remus-type content (Sexual Innuendo/references), Arranged Marriage, Casual disregard of one's own life, Brief Beheading mention, Some swearing (Let me know if you'd like anything tagged!)

---

    Nights like this were the only time you'd find Remus quiet. He stretched his arm, fishing into the depths of the kitchen of his crappy cupboard. He continued his search in earnest as he leaned forward on his toes, cringing as the cupboard door creaked loudly in the near deafening silence.

    He froze for a moment as an unconscious grunt escaped his lips as his hand closed around the familiar mixing bowl. He let out a slow breath, keeping his arm rigid as he quietly navigated the piece of glassware out of the cluttered space.

    Remus breathed a sigh of relief as the bowl pulled out silently. He paused in a squat,  running a finger over the chipped rim as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. The last time he'd seen this particular bowl he'd been hours away from being paraded around his first in front of a bunch of old farts with too much power and a kink for making their kids miserable.

    He let out a sigh as he wiped the dust from the old green bowl and stood up to set it on the counter. Strictly speaking, Remus shouldn’t be here. Hell, if he was spotted anywhere besides his quarters tonight, he was sure the courts would be in an immediate uproar. The mere thought was enough to send his mind spiraling a whole new direction as he turned to pull the ingredients from the shelves. He shouldn’t even remember this recipe. It had been years since he had broken in to the kitchen.

    Because my shit brain is broke.

    Remus growled as he dropped the flour on the wooden countertop. He took a step back to take inventory of his progress, chewing his lip to keep his darker thoughts at bay. After a brief pause, he got back to work. His movements were quick as he gathered the little, chocolate candies, put his hands on the oats and counted the eggs he'd snatched from the chicken coops early that morning. The steps jumped to his mind and he lost himself into his focus so much he didn't notice a small man appear in the doorway behind him.

    “You’re not supposed to be—”

    Remus' head jerked up to meet te eyes of the man with reddish brown hair, dressed in a kitchen staff uniform staring at him from the entryway to the kitchen. As their eyes met, he saw a nervous look flashed across the man's eyes and the man's statement suddenly jumped in pitch as he continued.

    “Your highness! Sorry, I —"

    Remus didn't hesitate. He jumped and slid across the countertop and lunging forward to press a hand over the man’s lips. Smirking, he flashed a playful smile down at the wide eyes of the adorable kitchen servant staring back at him.

     “Now, I know you weren’t just about to ruin my fun.”

     The vehement shake of the man's head pulled a chuckle out of Remus and he smirked. The shock in the man's bright, blue eyes glimmered as his eyes flitted between Remus and the kitchen.

    Goddamn, of course he'd be fucking pretty.

    Remus eased his grip and allowed the man to stand up straight up off the wall. He smiled at the man's confusion and held a finger to his lips in a hushing gesture. “Just pretend I'm not here and go about your business as usual. Got it?”

    The man nodded as he averted his gaze. His hesitance gave Remus pause and the prince softened his voice, still smirking at the shocked baked.”

    “Thanks for not tattling on me.” Remus cooed as he dropped his head to meet the man’s eyes with a playful giggle. “Let’s be real. Those lips are too damn pretty to be used for evil anyway.”

     The red tint in the man's cheeks deepened as he dropped his eyes and bowed his head even deeper to his chest. “Of course not, my prince.”

    Remus chewed his lip at the mention of his title, but he backed off as he picked up on the man's discomfort. He eyed the up and down at the man's uniform with a sigh. “You got a name, baker boy?”

    “Patton, sir.”

    “Alrighty then, Pattycake. Do me a favor and drop the titles.” Remus muttered, turning back to the kitchen as Patton’s mouth dropped open uncertainly.

    “I’m not sure I can—"

    “You won’t get in trouble or nothing.” Remus huffed with a bitter smile as he rounded back to his ingredients and pointed back to the kitchen doors. “If you want me gone, all you gotta do is holler for one of the guards and they'll drag me kicking and screaming back to my tower where I belong.”

   He could feel the man's eyes on the back of his head as he turned and sorted his pile of ingredients.

    “I won't—” Patton hesitated as Remus raised an eyebrow at him, but he quickly steeled his resolve and started his own work. “I won't tell anything. Is there something you'd prefer for me to call you?”

    “My name would be a great start.” Remus muttered a bit more bitterly than he intended.

    “Certainly, sir—I mean, Remus.”

    Remus nodded, appreciating that the man seemed willing to let his suspicious behavior slide. He ignored the man, firing up the oven before turning to the cupboard.

    “Do you need help finding—”

     “Nope.” Remus popped as he spun around and set the scale on the countertop to begin weighing his ingredients.

    “How do you—”

    “Used to sneak in here a lot back in the day.” Remus muttered and q nostalgic smile spread across his face as he mixed his dry ingredients. He could feel his hand starting to shake as he threw himself into his comfort recipe. “Until the new bitch of a head chef reported me and got me tossed out for ‘inappropriate princely behavior’, I was in here every other week makin' something.”

    The man behind him snorted quietly, quickly dropping his head with amusement at the prince’s nonchalance. “Your language seems less becoming than I would expect of someone in your position.”

     “You calling me out for saying bitch, pretty boy?”

      “I would never question one of our fearless leaders.” The man looked up at Remus with a coy smile as he tossed his own dough on the countertop.

   “Then, you’re an idiot.” Remus muttered under his breath as he watched the man begin to prepare his proofed dough.

   Patton's smile faltered as he watched Remus carefully. “That kind of talk is treason.”

    “What are they going to do to me? Arrest me?” Remus purred as he pulled out a stack of baking sheets. He leaned onto his elbows and stared at Patton across the island between them. He smiled seductively, wiggling his eyebrows at the baker. “I mean, I'd let you put me in handcuffs any night.”

   The man's brow furrowed and, for the first time, Remus felt disgust in the man's expression. “You should not say such things when you are to be married mere hours from now.”

   Remus sucked in a breath as though he received a quick jab to his stomach. “I hate to shatter the big illusion, but I didn’t exactly get a choice in the matter.”

    The man winced as Remus let out a long sigh, dipping his head away from Remus' exasperation. “I'm sorry, sir. It was not my place to say—"

    “Do I look like I give a shit what you say?”

     Patton looked up, surprised as the prince started making little balls to lay out on the baking sheet. “What?”

    “I'd appreciate if you’d stop looking like I might have you beheaded for looking at me wrong.”

    “Sir—"

    “Just stop. No one hates my position more than me.” Remus couldn’t help but growl as he turned to slip his cookies into the oven. He pulled the timer off the top of the oven and twisted it to the right time, nearly breaking it with his rough movements. “Please, just treat me like a person for the few hours of freedom I have left.”

    “Forgive me. I—” Patton paused as he stared at the back of the prince's tense shoulders. “You’re not what I expected—um, Remus.”

    “What are you even doing here anyway?”

    Patton blinked uncertainly at the abrupt shift in conversation. “What?”

    “The kitchen always used to be empty at this time.” Remus muttered, losing his steam as leaned against the countertop. “It's fucking three in the morning. No one was actually supposed to be here to witness my mental breakdown.”

    “I, uh—had to come in early to start preparing ing the dough for the wedding.” Patton whispered, voice softening as he watched the prince wilted. “You really don’t want to get married. Do you?”

    “I'm not opposed to gettin' hitched or nothing,” Remus muttered, trying to play off his discomfort with a rough laugh. “but I never thought I'd be expected to give it up on the first date.”

    Patton’s heart dropped sympathetically. “You haven’t met him yet?”

    “Once, but we were being supervised so we couldn’t exactly speak our minds.” Remus whispered, turning back to Patton as he leaned back into the wall. “He didn’t even seem that bad. Gloomy, sour and he had circles beneath his eyes so dark it makes me think someone in his family tree got freaky with a damn raccoon but—”

    “Remus—”

    “I know I’m being irrational, but my mind's running so fast and I can't stop chasing the thoughts —”

    “You’re not being irrational, Remus.” Patton stated firmly as he took a step closer.

    “I am—”

    “You’re not. You’re just scared for the future.” Patton whispered, coming around the island to put a gentle hand on Remus’ shoulder. He hesitated, unsure of how the young royal would react to his touch, but one look at the glistening in the prince’s dark eyes sent Patton flying forward. His arms wrapped around the man's waist, melting into the contact as Remus returned the hug.

    “Thanks, Pattycake.” Remus whispered into his shoulder. “It's been a long time since I got a proper hug.”

    Patton leaned back at the melancholy in Remus' words and his heart ached at the prince’s reluctance to let go. “You don’t get a lot of hugs?”

    “Nah, my parents aren’t the touchy-feely types—” Remus sighed as he let his hands his hands dropped to his sides. “—and everyone else can't wait to get out of the room away from me.”

    Patton’s eyes fixed on Remus for a long moment before Remus' timer startled him from his thoughts. He reluctantly released the prince as he moved to pull his cookies out of the oven.  Without a second thought, the prince absently popped one of the steaming, hot treats in his mouth, and Patton flinched at the thought, but the prince seemed completely unbothered.

    “And with that, I'm not going to be a dick to the only person willing to treat me like a person today.” Remus muttered with a vacant expression. He shoveled half a dozen cookies into his pockets and strutted to the door with a two-finger salute back to the cute baker. “See ya later, sweet cheeks. Keep those buns nice and toasty—"

    “Wait, Remus.” Patton raised a hand to stop him from going. “You don’t have to go.”

    “Yeah, I do.” Remus muttered, lingering in the doorway. “If I don't scale back up to my tower, my babysitters might think I'm trying to play hookie on the new ball and chain.”

    Patton’s face suddenly paled. “Scale the—You climbed down the tower to get here?"

   Remus grinned at Patton’s expression. “Yep.”

    “That’s four stories!” Patton’s mouth dropped open in bewilderment. “You could have died!”

    Remus shrugged, unconcerned. “What a beautiful wedding.”

    “Remus,” Patton whispered as empathy. “Please, stay. You could hurt yourself.”

    “Listen, I appreciate you letting me indulge in my old habits.” Remus grinned as he tipped a cookie towards Patton. “but I ain’t your problem. You don't have to fix me.”

     Patton's eyes flashed with desperation as Remus turned to go. “What if—what if I want it to be my problem?”

     Remus blinked, furrowing his brow. “What?”

     “We could be friends.” Patton whispered, suddenly nervous. “What?”

    “I, um—” Remus couldn’t help but stare as the baker's face turned red enough to match his hair. For the first time in their conversation, he fell silent as his own shock took over.

     “If you want to, I mean.” Patton stumbled on his words and he started to ramble as Remus remained quiet. “I know you’ve got a lot going on today, but—”

    “But why?”

    Patton paused, staring at the confusion in at the prince’s vacant stare. “Y-you seem like you need a friend, Remus.”

   “And the nerdy baker wants to be my friend?”  

    “Kinda.” Patton muttered, feeling shy for the first time in years. “I could probably even get the head baker to lift your ban in the kitchens if you wanted. He's usually willing to do what I ask.”

    “Oh?” Remus whispered.  He could still feel his shock as Patton continued, failing to think to censor his own words as they fell from his lips. “And who'd you have to sleep with to make that happen?”

    “My fiancé.” Patton whispered, holding his hand up to show off a shiny, golden band.

     “Well, no shit.” Remus laughed as he took Patton’s hand and examined the ring. “Pattonpop's got a boyfriend.”

     “Fiancé.” Patton corrected with a bright smile as Remus held his hand and smiled at the ring.

    “Sounds like you like him.” Remus smiled as he let Patton take back his hand. He leaned against the countertop, feeling a moment of peace as he watched Patton start to glow.

    “I do.” Patton whispered with a fond smile. “He's smart and kind. Even though he's not very good at showing his emotions, he still makes a effort to know mine.”

    “And he's good to you?” Remus stretched across the counter between them, grinning at the warm flush on Patton’s face thinking of his fiancé.

    “Yeah, he’s really good to me.” Patton whispered as he spun the ring on his finger and smiled to himself.

    “Congratulations, baker boy.” Remus grinned, taking a bite of his warm cookie as he watched Patton. “You’re really out there living the dream.”

    Patton tipped his he up to Remus and guilt flashed in his eyes. “Oh, I'm sorry. I should have—”

    “For what, short stack?” Remus whispered with a smirk, leaning on his elbows.

    Patton's lip twitched sympathetically. “I'm—I’m talking about my own relationship when you’re clearly upset about yours.”

    “Oh, don't worry ‘bout that. What's the worst thing that can happen today?” Remus shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “The guy might end up a bore, but at least my parents will be off my back. I'll be someone’s perfect trophy like they always wanted.”

    “He could be nice—”

    “Maybe.”

    “Remus—”

    “Unfortunately, my time's up.” Remus muttered, reluctantly staggering to the door. “If I don't get back, they'll start raising alarms."

    “Okay, but—” Patton hesitated, taking Remus arm.  “—you're going to take the stairs, right?”

    “Since you asked nicely, I’ll think about it.” Remus purred as he stood up and stepped to the door. He let out a small grunt as Patton rushed forward and wrapped his hands around his waist. His muscles tensed for a moment before relaxing into Patton’s hug.

    “Whatever happens today, you can always come visit me here, okay?”

    “Sure thing, Pattycake.” Remus whispered as he returned the hug. “Thank for putting up with me for a little bit. I hope you enjoy the rest of the cookies.”

    “I will,” Patton beamed, looking back at the baked goods. “What kind are they?”

    “I don't know if they got a proper name.” Remus shrugged. “I always called ‘em monster cookies, ‘cause they’re a concoction of all my favorite shit. They taste alright though. I promise.”

    “I’m sure they’re delicious.” Patton whispered as he beamed up at him.

    Remus shrugged, standing up and wandering to the door. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you.”

    “It was nice to meet you too. I—I know you’re going to be busy for a while, but if you want to visit, I’m here most days.” Patton smiled as Remus lingered in the doorway. “Promise you’ll come back?”

    “I will. Once the chaos calms down and bit, I’ll come by.” Remus whispered with a sad wave back at him. “This'll—This'll make today a little easier, so thanks. See ya later, baker boy.”

    “You’re going to be okay, Remus.”

    Remus smirked at Patton’s genuine smile. “I hope so, Pattycake.”

    “Good-bye.” Patton whispered as he watched his new friend nodded and reluctantly turned to stagger out the door. The corner of his lips curled into a sad smile as he watched the prince go, hoping that the prince was dreading his day a little bit less now.

--

General Taglist

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

[katsukikitten]

Golden opportunity

A/N Hello lovies. This one is a bit more intense as I've been corrupted by Jo @lady-bakuhoe so enjoy some sub Bakugo with a delightfully hurtful twist. This is my first sub Bakugou work so I hope you enjoy.

WARNINGS: NSFW, 18+ AU/ Adult Au. Heavy Adult themes such as dub con and non con. Mentions of cheating. Imbalanced power dynamic.

Bakugo grinds his teeth to prevent himself from blasting the door off of its hinges, mad he let you slip through his  fingers. Angry hands shoving the key into the knob before roughly shoving it open only to slam it shut. 

"You make this too easy." Your voice rings out in the darkness of the apartment but burning red eyes find the source easily. He doesn't even bother flicking on the lights as his eyes adjust to see you sitting on the countertop of the island. Hand holding up a golden apple. He lunges for you, hands outstretched to strangle you to keep you quiet but you uncross your legs just in time to land a steel toed boot into his ribs. He slides back hitting the side table, he catches the lamp before it can crash, ears perked and eyes peering down the hall to the beds rooms. 

"You know what happens when I take a bite don't you?" Your voice is a low hum in his ears, "I would hate to wake the new addition of the happy Bakugou family." 

The threat competes with the rushing blood in his ears. Rage flowing hot in his veins as he watch you bring that deadly apple to those damn plump lips. His mind playing over the last time you had bitten into the apple of discord. One bite could cause the smallest of arguments in an instant, throwing even the most level headed team into chaos. 

But two bites, two bites could end lives and random and three? 

Well the last time you had taken three half of the city was swallowed whole by a swirling black portal. 

A tremor runs through him to be so powerless. 

"Eris…" Your villain name but not your true name leaves his lips. It never fails to cause a shiver down your spine. The gruffness to his very tone was enough to have you wanting more. It always had, especially the first time the two of you met. He pinned you against the brick, few fast enough or strong enough to do such a feat. You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly, his crimson eyes raking over your body clad in a black skin tight suit with a zipper resting just below your collar bones. Your swift fingers yank it down to your navel.

His wedding band burns on his finger, each time he was forced to please you he had come to like it just a tad bit more. He swallows again as you jump from the counter with a sigh. 

Going through the same song and dance was beginning to get so boring. He wanted you, it was so clear in the way that he watched you, in the way he was first on scene for your crimes no matter how far away and in the way he kissed you when asked. 

So why did you have to threaten his family in order to get what you both want? 

With ever step you took forward he took back until his sculpted back was pressed against the wall. Your hand wraps around his thick throat as you shove him further into the wall, the light switch bites into his shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise but he's had worse. 

Why was he denying you? The thought alone had you seeing red as you're sure to make his vision blur. His still gloved hands gripping onto your forearm as your free hand travels just above the hem of his black hero pants before you shove it down his boxers to slowly stroke his thick length, coating him in his own precum. 

His eyes flutter from the combined actions. 

"Such a dirty boy huh?" You purr, he glares your way as he gasps out his response. 

Trying so hard not to moan your name. 

"You're the desperate slut forcing me." Your press your hand harder careful to avoid his larynx despite how badly you want to damage it now. Pressing until his grip on your arm begins to weaken, his breaths coming out as desperate pants as you increase the pace. He groans, unable to stop the buck of his hips into your touch.

"Am I really forcing you though?" Your honeyed voice in his ear prompts another illicit, breathy grunt as your apple blossom wine and bonfire scent smother his senses.

Fuck is all he can think as you relieve the ache of his cock, threatening to burst in your delicate deadly hands. His tell signs of coming are easy, flushed cheeks, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he fights it, before the lock onto you. You stop just in time, pulling harshly on his tight balls, he lets out a whine as you remove your hand from his throat.

"I didn't hear you ask permission to cum." You move the fabric of his hero shirt, stretching the collar to bite down on his shoulder, harshly sucking and nipping until you were satisfied. A set of red teeth marks and gorgeous black bruises adorn his shoulder. Another set he will have to somehow hide. 

"Fuck. You." He snarls quietly, trying to push you away but your nails bite into his balls before you give them a tight squeeze. He gulps down air as he watches your ass sashay away. Stopping just before the couch to point with an expectant finger. 

"Now." You bite impatient as ever as he reluctantly makes his way to the couch. Glancing down the hallway praying that the two of you are quiet enough. 

Last time the both of you were almost caught, your mouth wrapped tightly around his length as he was forced to have a conversation with his sleepy wife. You being the devil that you are, had slid two arched digits into his ass at the wrong time. Almost getting the two of you caught. 

He came in your mouth as he told his wife "I love you." 

Again his wedding band burns along with his heart but nothing beats the burning in his loins. 

He swallows thickly, hands popping as he  removes his gloves. 

"We could've done this when I saw you earlier tonight." He bites, attempting to take control as he towers over you, large hand wrapping around your throat. Making sure you see stars but you hold his glare, hardly ready to give power to him. 

At least not until he stops lying to himself by thinking he could actually play house with a boring, quirkless woman. What a waste of his seed. 

"Such a dirty boy. You would've rather fucked me in the dark alley?" You purr, breaking his hold with a jab at his arm before you shove him on the couch behind you. 

"Would you have liked that better because you would have been able to scratch my back against that brick again? Was it the thought of being caught that made your cock so hard for me?" You straddle him to remove his shirt and marvel over your work. A mix of bruises and bites from past battles and previous fucks. You bring your mouth to his ear, pulling the lobe between your teeth. 

"Or maybe it's because you got to yell out my name when you came." A shudder runs through his body, his cock aches and twitches at the memory. 

Of you looking so fucked out as you finally allowed him a moment of dominance. Your tits bouncing as he roughly pounded into your sopping pussy at one in the morning in a dimly lit alley. The sound of bodies clashing and throaty moans echoing back to him before you held your half lidded gaze with his, your throat marked by him for once. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your thick frame quaked in his arms, cunt grabbing onto him for all he was worth. 

He hated to admit but it was the best cum of his life. Fucking into your tight pussy as hard as he wanted. 

Your name, your real name, leaving his lips and his knees weak. 

He swallows guilt whole as you ease off of him yanking down his pants and boxers. His cock springs free causing you to lick your lips and fight the urge to rub your thighs together for some desperately needed friction. You slide out of your suit easily as you step forward, legs slightly apart as your eyes stare hard at the man before you with a  silent command. 

He sucks his teeth but does not disobey as he lets his fingers find your soaked folds. He growls, swirling calloused digits around your swollen bud. Waiting for those thick thighs to shake before he reaches around to grab a hand full of your ass. Pulling your delicious and heavenly naked body towards him. Your nails bite into his forearm as you glare down at him. 

"Did I say you could touch my ass peasant?" You hiss, bending over to grab his jaw tightly. 

He sneers, baring his teeth as he replies. 

"I'm not the dirty slut who's been breaking into houses and threatening heros to fuck them, Princess." He keeps up his quick pace, wanting nothing more than for you to come undone by his hand, on his command for once. Waiting for your thighs to quiver beneath him but instead you shove his arm away before he can slink to your core. 

Straddling him, purposefully shoving your tits in his face with a single command. 

"Suck." You say humping his length but never slipping onto him, he growls with each stroke, teeth nipping at your perked nipples waiting for the familiar feel of your velvet walls.

The house settles making a creaking noise that has Bakugou's hands on your hips, his throat closing up as he strains to listen. You grab onto his face harshly, letting your thumb pull at his lower lip before shoving it into his mouth, deep enough that he gags. 

"I didn't tell you to stop." He wants to bite your thumb clean off and relish over the coppery tang that would flood his taste buds. But instead he gives your thumb an obedient suck.  

He pulls away with a lewd pop, one hand twisting a sensitive bud while the other sucks, all the while your clit slides delightfully over him rocking yourself through your first three orgasms of the night. 

As the third washes over you, you plunge onto his weeping cock and he can feel your pussy convulsing over your last high. Making you almost uncomfortably tight but you felt so good and full. You grab onto the couch beside his head staring into his eyes as you growl.

"Don't you dare come, I don't plan to stop until I  squirt all over what's mine." He swallows thickly and answers before thinking. 

"Yes, Princess." You smirk, having finally gotten something trained into him before you start the violent roll of your hips. His cock hitting all the right spots, already making the coil in your stomach tight. 

"Touch me." You moan and his hands begin to roam over your body finding your hips that grind on him, and squeezing your ribs. 

You were so tiny in his large hands yet you held so much power over him. The thought made his dick twitch, squeezing harder to keep himself from pumping up into you, he groans relishing your tightness around his girth.

"F...fuck Katsuki." You cry out, coming undone again, fucking your self through another impossible high. 

He sees it on your face, how desperate you are for another release and he wants so badly to help you keep good on your promise and squirt all over what belongs to you. He should feel guilty, he should feel angry and disgusted over your words but instead all he feels is undeniable pleasure.

To be honest the thought of his wife wasn't on his mind at all. 

He could see only you, sitting atop your throne using him as a living dildo, fucking yourself to greater highs.

"Peasant, help out your Princess." He thrusts into you harshly, reminding you of his own power angling his hips to snap just right. His dick slides along that sinful spongy spot that has your vision blurring. Still you see the sweat on his brow as he is ready to chase his own release. Fighting to keep himself from painting your walls white. Movement in the hallway catches your eye, you smirk looking down to see his eyes fluttering as he looks up at you.

"Make me cum first. Then I want to hear you cum." You squeeze his throat, making it that much harder for him to focus on not busting. He goes feral, pounding up into you carelessly and loudly grunting as best he can through your steely grip. You take your free hand and harshly rub over your clit until he's threatening to spill. You hold eye contact with a figure in the dark before you look into a deep set of crimson eyes. 

Throwing your head back as you grind your hips to meet his until you're moaning entirely too loudly, squirting onto your, fingers, his lap and his chest. 

As you promised. 

Your pulsing cunt grabs onto his throbbing cock so tightly that he cannot take it. He groans as his hips sloppily piston and stutter. 

"F...fuck fuck. Eris…" Head falling onto the back of the couch as he fills you to the brim. Your name leaving his lips with a final thrust. 

"Bakugou?" A shaky voice calls out, harsh light flooding the living room showcasing what he had avoided for almost a year. 

His wedding band burns against this ring finger, a lie lodged in his throat as he sits covered in a mixture of your slick and his seed. He looks to you with wide, angry eyes. His hands burning the skin on your bare ribcage. You smile, leaning down to kiss his horrified and angry face. 

"Another day my naughty peasant." You smile with delight, apple appearing in your hand. You take a large bite out of the golden flesh and disappear into thin air.  

[literary-spirit]

Bonnie Bennett believed she'd finally discovered her good enough ending. Yet, like most things in her life good enough goes left and leaves her with another ending. Or, perhaps a fire beginning...Journey with everyone's favorite Bennett Witch to the Viking Era for much needed lessons in devotion, courtesy the Lothbrok brothers.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

AN: Alright Bennett Fandom this one here is a bit different from what you're used to. Okay this one here is a bit different than I'm used to. Francesca has recently rediscovered Vikings and with it the sons of Ragnar. And don't you know she wouldn't rest until she brought our favorite Bennett Witch into their mess! As if our girl didn't already have her own problems. SMFH! So thanks to my lovely muse, here we are with a whole lot of trifling savagery that I'm just not so sure about. But as always I'll let you be the judge if this WIP lives to see another update. Flame it or acclaim it in comments.

“You know as much as I’ve savored the joy of tormenting you over the years-,” Klaus began.

“No,” Bonnie shook her head. She’d tried to go along with his final request. Really she did, but how could she? When in the end all he’d be was gone. “I’m sorry, bae. We’re not doing this.”

Rebekah’s eyes rolled. She released a drawn out exhale that hadn’t been necessary for her since wood ash and pointed stick tattoos were a thing. “Bonnie, don’t ruin this for him! Permit him whatever comfort he demands. He shoulders a burden you’d never be able to fathom. Can you not allow him to experience but one moment of grace? A moment Hope will undoubtedly cling to after he’s gone.”

“No, Rebekah! I’m not about to listen as the man I love gives us all a corny goodbye and pretend to be okay with it. And why the hell should Hope have a moment to cling to when she could have her father?” She gave her head another firm shake. “No, this is not okay with me,” her voice rose as she drilled visual holes through each of them. Klaus tried to shut her down with an arm around the shoulders but she curved him with a shrug, all while committing ocular homicide on him in the process. “So why the hell is it okay with you, Hybrid?” Her scorn riddled gaze darted from him back to his so called family. “Or any of you?”

“You must’ve been down on Bourbon sipping on that Absinthe again if you believe any of this shit is okay with us,” Marcel waved her off barely sparing her a glance. “We all just know Klaus is gonna do whatever Klaus wants no matter how any of us feels about it. The most dangerous place you can be when his mind’s made up is in his way. So I suggest you step out of it.”

Her neck snapped back as if she’d taken a two piece to the chin. “You think I’m afraid of the big bad wolf? I wasn’t at seventeen and if I thought for a second it would save him, I’d put his ass back in the dirt again. I take care of my own, Marcel. No matter the dangers or consequences,” she jabbed a thumb at her hybrid, “And make no mistake, that Original pain in the ass over there is mine.”

“Cute.” Marcel laughed as he rubbed at the corners of his mouth. “Bonnie, we’re his family. Each of us have known, feared, hated, respected, and loved him long before even your parents’ parents became an idea. Hell, even after everything he’s dragged me through, there’s not a drop of blood I wouldn’t bleed for him.”

“Then stand behind those words and do something, Marcel,” she pleaded, because at this point she wasn’t above begging for the only bright spot remaining in the dim bleakness that had become her life seven years before.

“What would you have us do, Bonnie?” Elijah questioned in a barely engaged tone.

Bonnie turned to consider him. A perpetual moroseness now cloaked the one she’d once believed to be noble. His arrogance hadn’t been quite the same since the restoration of his memories. More and more he’d begun to remind her of Finn. She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. Since discovering what Klaus planned to do, she’d toyed with an idea she’d vowed never to indulge. Yet, under the weight of impossible desperation such vows could not stand.

“The eternal witch spell should be evoked,” she said.

“By whom?” Kol questioned. His chocolate browns moved from Freya to Hope. When both appeared to know less than him his disbelieving gawk returned to her. “You?!” Laughter burst from his mouth. “Oh Darling, I’ve witnessed that spell make a supernatural mess of the most talented witches to ever recite a chant. There’s only one destined to master the eternal witch incantation and her sorcery is said to be unmatched.” His knowing gaze drifted to Hope, and then back to her. “There’s no way you’re powerful enough to undertake the task. You’re not even the strongest witch on this block.”

Bonnie flinched. Damn it, if Kol hadn’t DOA’ed her pride. When the hell did he jump on the Bennett hate train? To hear how far his opinion of her plummeted sort of burned.

She nodded. “Okay, if not me why not Davina. You tend to enjoy blowing her horn. If she’s all you claim her to be, get her here. I’ll happily bow down if her being greater than me will save him.” She jerked her head in Klaus’ direction.

“No!” Marcel barked.

“Leave my wife out of this.” Kol zipped across the distance separating them to tower over her. His original face no longer concealed by his human deception.

Klaus rocketed forward to place himself between she and Kol. “Step away from my fiancé, baby brother. For if you harm her then you’ll be joining me in the afterlife. To hell with your bloody dagger and box.”

Ignoring Kol’s and Klaus’ dagger and the box bit, her distressed stare collided with Freya’s. “What about you? Will you help me save your brother?”

“Bonnie, that spell is much too dangerous. Even for me.” The blondes eyes offered her a thousand apologies but not one solution. “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it…not now.”

Her desperation bottomed out to despair as her gaze took a hail Mary launch to the supposedly most powerful witch in the room. “Hope?”

The room erupted. You’d think she’d offered the girl a crack pipe. When she was Hope’s age she was taking down well…her dad.

“Bonnie!” Elijah yelled.

“This is madness,” Rebekah growled, taking a step in their direction. “Nik tell her!”

“We’ve already talked about this, Bekah.” Marcel shook his head and tugged Rebekah back to his side. “That doesn’t concern us.” Bonnie heard Marcel mutter.

Klaus spun away from Kol to regard her. He grabbed her face and cradled her cheeks in his palms. “Everything’s going to be alright, Love.” He whispered, before brushing his lips against hers. Liquid pain disturbed the stillness of his crystal blue stare and contradicted the hell out of his reassurance.

“How?” She tugged herself free of his grasp. “How’s everything going to be alright? You’ll be dead and then what? Life goes on? Fuck that! I’m not about to stand here and mourn a defeat I haven’t loss yet!” She whirled away and marched from the gathering. Her decision made.

Once out of sight, she hurried towards their bedroom. Inside, she closed the door and locked it. The barrier wouldn’t hold her hybrid, but the fraction of time it would provide may be all she needed to complete the spell. She fell to her knees next to the mattress. Carefully, she tugged the blanket from underneath the bed. The already prepared altar and ingredients slid out. She stared down at the athamae and exhaled. Second thoughts plagued her mental, but she shook them away. She’d come this far already. The time to bitch up and forget about it had come and gone. Now was the time to do and die, literally.

She picked up the dagger and called forth every ounce of mystical energy which bled through her veins. A swell of Bennett sorcery overwhelmed the room. Pictures rattled on the walls. The balcony doors blew open and the glass shattered. Furniture not nailed down whipped about the room like she’d caught a ride in a tornado. Steeling her nerves, she continued. She called forth her psychic energy, her huntress energy. Any and everything supernatural about her she offered to the Goddess of all in exchange for an eternity of knowledge and the fated eternal mate destined to help her defeat the Hollow.

After relinquishing her all to the Creator she sliced open her palm. Blood gushed from the wound and saturated the ingredients. A searing light illuminated the room. The bargain was struck and accepted. Now the sacrifice. She swallowed and raised the blade. Aiming it at the center of her chest, she closed her eyes.

“Bonnie, no!” Klaus’ voice penetrated the white noise blaring throughout the room. “Love, don’t do this. You won’t survive.”

She opened her eyes. He stood just beyond the enchantment circle, attempting to force his way into the barrier. “Neither will you if I don’t. Besides, if it doesn’t work I’d rather be in the ground anyway than breathe without you, Klaus.”

“Bonnie, please,” he pled as he dropped to his knees. He slammed his fist against the barrier. “Please, don’t do this. We’ll find another way. You have my word, Love!”

A sad smile flirted with her lips. “You’re lying, Klaus. If there was another way then it would already be the plan.” She plunged the blade into the cradle of her breasts. A piercing burn penetrated her chest.

“No!” Klaus’ bellow seared layers from her punctured heart. The storm of mystical energy whipping about ceased.

Her knees buckled. Klaus caught her before the ground could and cuddled her close. She attempted to talk, but a wheeze whistled pass her lips instead.

“No, Love, don’t speak.” He bit into his wrist and placed the bleeding extremity to her mouth. His blood might as well had been battery acid because she’d bet dollars to air it burned the same. Hacking coughs damn near shook her frame apart by the joints. “Why the sodding hell isn’t this working?”

“I-It’s the s-spell,” she managed to utter. “M-my death is the p-price of a-admission.”

Tears trickled from his eyes onto her face. “Why did I have to go and love you, Little Witch?” He demanded, looking beyond confused.

“B-Because its what we b-both needed at the time and no m-matter how this turns out I’ll always be indebted to you for giving me a reason. L-Love you, Hybrid…always and f-forever.” His face faded until nothing but darkness surrounded her.

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to me. And to add unfairness to poetic injustice, neither does the shows or the books. However, I still intend to pull the characters' strings and make them dance, all while having a ball upsetting canon plot lines!

The abyss gave way to blinding lights. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut. A cacophony of sounds battered her auditory senses. The eardrum rupturing racket nearly distracted her from the violent rocking motion. A violent rocking motion which would no doubt wrought absolute fuckery on her cyclic vomiting syndrome. Right along with the tang of salt-water, unwashed bodies, and rotten fish. The potpourri of funk came close to singeing the lining of her nostrils.

A familiar acrid burn tickled the back of her throat. On cue her belly spun a series of gold medal winning somersaults. Oh this was going to happen. Her lack of sight heightened her senses and made her that much more sensitive to all the upchuck factors swirling about her. Unable to continue to live in the darkest part of her denial and remain vomit free, she opened her eyes. The brightest day she'd ever had to tolerate greeted her light discriminating gaze. She closed her eyes once more. What in the extreme fuck? Was this some kind of hell dimension? Is that why she was only a five minute drive away from the damn sun? Oh Goddess no!

"Cade?!" She growled.

The acrid burn that flirted with the back of her throat developed a sour chunky consistency. Once again she forced her eyes open...and blinked. She was on a vessel that appeared to have hailed straight out of Vikings. Damning the unnecessary brightness and her afterlife in general, she turned and tossed up the entire contents of her stomach over the boats edge. The seafood gumbo from Rousseau's she loved nearly as much as Klaus shot from her mouth and floated one way while the wind and Hades' cruiser sailed her in another.

As gravity took her down exhaustion fucked her over. She rested her cheek on the boat's wooden ledge. Drops of putrid salt water splashed her face. Yet, her fucks to give was at a negative zero low. Not only was she dead, but more than likely so was Klaus. She'd failed him...she'd failed them. Not even eternity would be long enough to make that shit okay.

Bonnie's vision blurred. Her chest throbbed. She clawed at the pounding ache between her breasts. Goddess, it's a wonder her chest didn't have a gaping hole in it after everything her heart had lost. Shaking her latest failure from her thoughts, she turned to slouch back to the boat's floor. She then lifted her gaze to assess her surroundings. Various shades of irises gawked back at her. She froze. Oh damn! Just her luck the water was sacred. She opened her mouth to offer an apology, but snapped it closed. Wait...why the hell did everyone look like extras from the Last Kingdom?

Slowly, her gaze dropped from the filthy hairy men towering over her to what she wore. The burlap sack dress she donned stopped her ever ticking clock. And based on the breeze cooling her cakes, her La Perla's had opted to skip the journey to the other side. Her back teeth clenched. In what kind of after life had she been dropped? Was this some kind of Viking hell? Had she somehow been granted eternity with Klaus in his hereafter?

The shifting of bodies snaked her attention from Kanye's spring wear to the now parting beefy men. A sight which had her questioning her sanity emerged. Bjorn Lothbrok or at any rate the actor who portrayed him in Vikings. Was he dead and stuck on the Otherside also? Wait, was Alexander Ludwig even supernatural?

"You're not one of the slaves who was captured during the raid. One of your hue, I would've remembered." The head Viking in charge edge that resonated in Bjorn's or Alexander's voice snatched her from her contemplations. "How've you come to be upon this ship?" When she opened her mouth to speak the cold sharpened point of a sword pierced the hollow of her throat. "Speak to me of canards or sagas and I shall open your gullet."

She hesitated for a moment. What could she say? The truth would definitely get her neck split wide. "I-I'm not sure. Before...when I closed my eyes, I was somewhere else and now that I've opened them, I'm..." she glanced from the horror frozen faces of the crewmen to the beyond frightened slaves. The poor shackled souls huddled away from her in the ship crevices and corners on either side of her. She swallowed and allowed her gaze to return to Bjorn. "I'm here."

"Oh my god," she heard one of the slaves mutter in a tone that, to her surprise, sounded annoyed?

His scoff sliced the disbelief inspired silence in half. He withdrew the biting tip of his sword from her throat and sheathed it in the scabbard at his side. "Bind her hands to her feet and toss her over."

The ship erupted in a flurry of movement. Two overfed red-haired and even redder faced Viking men moved to grab her. She nearly projectile vomited her heart from her mouth.

"I know what I'm saying sounds apeshit, but I swear on everything I love, Alexander," she said slowly uttering the name and searching his face for a flare of recognition. When nothing sparked in his expression she stammered on, "I-I'm telling the truth. Please, you have to believe me, Bjorn!" A flicker of curiosity narrowed his glare. Bingo! "You can't let them kill me! Please, I don't wanna die again!"

"Halt!" He bellowed, raising a hand to stop the men from advancing, "How've you come to know of my name?"

Shit! She pressed her lips together as her mind flipped through a too short list of plausible explanations that wouldn't get her burned at a stake for witchcraft. "I-I've dreamt of you a-and of this moment." There, that didn't sound too bad. One thing she'd learned from Klaus, watching Vikings, and Google, is ancient Northman actually revered oracles and seers.

"You've dreamt of me?" He knelt before her, arresting her stare with a penetratingly incandescent blue gaze. At a deliberate methodical pace, his eyes crept over her face. Her lungs threatened to collapse under the thorough scrutiny. "Of this moment?" Unable to look anywhere other than in the irises that burned brighter than the now blazing sun, her head bobbed. A smile enticed the corners of his mouth. "Then why fear what you know will follow? Have you not prepared well to meet your fate?"

"Not if my fate resides at the bottom of the ocean," she said with a firm shake of the head, "That's an introduction I'd like to cur—avoid indefinitely."

His head tilted just so as he continued to regard her. "Name yourself."

"Bonnie Bennett," she answered.

A golden brow lifted. "Bonnie Bennett of where?"

"New-M-Mystic Falls...Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls."

"I have never heard of a land with such a name," he huddled a bit closer to her, "in which direction does your homeland lie?"

Before she could answer, thick gun metal gray clouds rolled across the azure sky and swallowed the glaring sun. A sonic boom exploded somewhere in the distance, while blue streaks of lightening zigzagged its way through the stodgy swirls of gloom. And if the situation wasn't already atom splitting serious, fat drops of rain and hail the size of golf balls began to pelt them.

"This storm is unnatural!" A seaman yelled.

"What in the name of Odin will become of us? None of us shall discover the gates of Valhalla at the bottom of the sea!" A ruddy face old man with a scraggly beard roared at anyone who appeared to be listening.

Another much younger seaman, maybe a little older than herself, turned an anxious stare on Bjorn. "Do you believe the All Father has forsaken us, Ironside?"

Bjorn opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by a blonde slave girl who pointed a finger in her direction, "It's her! Her very presence displeases the gods. You should heave her over and pray the sacrifice appeases them."

"You sound dumb as hell! It's no wonder you're in chains," Bonnie snapped, regretting her words as soon as they left her lips. Stupidity had nothing to do with forced captivity. Yet, that bitch had some damn nerve.

"No one will be heaving anyone over," Bjorn said, while standing from his crouch, "Raise the sails and provide the slaves with pails so they may began dumping water from the ship's floor."

A surge of magic thickened the air. The foreign sorcery incited something within her. Something unfamiliar. A bucket was pushed in her face. She took the wooden pail without looking away from the sea. The very stench of alien witchery agitated her own strange mystical energy. The fiery heat of her somehow altered super charged power practically scorched the inner lining of her veins as it raced through her vessels. Who would dare interrupt the supernatural and natural balance on this scale without justification? It was like using a heat seeking missile to take out a mosquito. Un-fucking-called for!

Instead of allowing the now aggressive powers within her the retribution it sought, she settled just to keep the occupants on the ship safe. So, while she dumped water from the boat's floor, she chanted under her breath. Soon, a protective shield formed around them in an elusive form of the previous sunny day. The Vikings and slaves alike erupted in praises to Odin.

"Yep," Bonnie forced a smile. "Praise Odin!"

"Come, Mystical One," Bjorn stood over her, his shadow casting her much needed shade.

Distrust and her impromptu guest starring role on a show which highlighted the fact that Vikings had no problems raping captives, raised her guards. Though realms out of her element, she was far from ignorant.

Her gaze moved over him in an attempt to size him up. "Where?"

"To the prow," He gestured towards the front of the ship before snatching the pail from her hands, and then tossing it aside. "I wish to learn more about you and this numinous land named Mystic Falls." When she took too long to follow he locked his hands behind his back and considered her. "If I wanted to lie with you then all I need do is have you. Do you believe anyone here would be minded to protect you?"

She lifted her chin as she glanced about the ship to see not one person watching them for concern purposes. Every eye she caught on them looked to be pre-historic Shade Room and TMZ reporters. If they had tea kettles back then they'd no doubt be ready to spill the damn things. No, Bjorn spoke the truth. No one on that confoundingly long boat would lift a calloused palm to help her.

"Alright." Exhaling, she stood and leveled him with a glare even a PMS'ing demon would be incapable of exacting. "But fair warning, no one on this ship can protect me better than me. And make no mistake, I'm not above defending my own honor."

He reached out and took her hand in his. "That is a certainty about you of which I'll never be mistaken, Bonnie Bennett of Mystic Falls."

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #10: Sharp Objects: Bucky Barnes

You think you’re invincible. Bucky thinks he’s not worth saving. Neither are true. 

Characters: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) knife play (no cutting), rough sex, definite dom!bucky vibes, angst, bucky being a self-loathing jackass

Notes: I’m running out of title ideas. 

Today’s prompt was “Knife Kink.” Aaaand I’m back on the angst. I can’t help it. There’s something about Marvel characters that just scream ‘make me hurt!’ But don’t think the MHA babies are exempt. Plenty of angst for them in the future.

Kinktober Masterlist

The mission is an absolute clusterfuck.

Not only do the two of you fail to collect the information you’d been sent to gather, you barely manage to escape with your lives. It takes you an extra hour to get back to the safehouse that night, taking a labyrinth of extra turns and detours to throw anyone who might have followed you off your scent.

By the time the tiny cabin comes into view, it’s well past dark. You and Bucky are both exhausted. And he’s in a mood. He hasn’t said one word to you since you got in the car,a rusty old pickup with no backseat and a window that sticks on one side. Outside, the wind is starting to pick up, and when you kick open the driver’s side door the late autumn chill blows right through you.

Bucky crunches sullen and heavy across the gravel, taking up the rear as you both hurry in. By the time you shut out the wind behind you, the tiny cabin might as well be a luxury hotel. You’re just glad to be somewhere safe.

You let out a sigh as you shuck out of your coat and gloves.

“That was a close call,” you quip conversationally. The silence has stretched so thin between you- you need to break it.

“Like hell it was.” His voice comes so low and grumbly that if you were anybody else, you wouldn’t hear him. But you’re used to reading his mumbles by now. Irritation spikes somewhere behind your right eye and you turn back towards him, arms folded over your combat gear.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, I told you to get your ass outta there. Not jump between me and the fucking bullet.”

“I’m sorry,” you quip, sliding your hands to your hips. “Are you referring to the moment in which I saved your goddamned ass?”

“Not an ass worth saving,” he growls back at you, and now you’re going to have to go there. You’ve been really hoping his stormy mood wasn’t caused by this, but apparently you know him better than you ever thought you did.

“No way,” you insist. You’re squaring up with him, but he’s not backing down. He’s close- closer than you’d realized, towering over you like he can scare you into agreeing that he’s disposable. “We’re not going there tonight, Buck, we’re not.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” he retorts. “’S just the truth. You got any idea what would have happened if you got hit? If you actually got hurt?”

“I prefer not to dwell on things that didn’t actually happen.”

He’s had enough. He grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you against the wall, pinning you there with the weight of his own form. His face is so close that his nose brushes yours, his breath puffing hot over your chin.

“You think you’re so fucking tough,” he hisses, grabbing your chin and forcing your eyes to his. You’re not sure exactly where this is coming from, but you’re not about to argue. It’s not the first time he’s gotten a little rough with you. And you’ve made it clear before that you’re okay with it.

He kisses you with bruising passion and you melt into it, bracing your palms against his chest. He loses patience with the foyer quickly and scoops you into his arms. The brace of his metal arm, carrying your weight so securely, is as immensely reassuring now as it was the first time.

He navigates you smoothly across the space of your one-room cabin and deposits you on the bed. In any other situation you might be concerned by the cloud of dust that puffs up around you as you land on the blankets, but you’ve got a pretty good distraction at the moment.

Bucky shrugs off the top half of his tactical gear with practiced ease. Then he’s working away at yours, undoing the straps, buckles, and zipper that hold it together. He shoves the whole thing down to your elbows, then he’s on you again, kissing and nipping down the side of your neck and making you shiver and moan.

You’re just starting to get invested when you spot him reach down his side out of the corner of your eye. He flips his hand back with something heavy and shiny curled in his fingers, and in a sharp jerk he’s got the blade of his combat knife pressed to your throat.

For a moment, you stare up at him in confusion and betrayal, but the lust that glints in his eyes proves that it’s all part of his game.

“I knew it,” he growls. “You get off on this shit, don’t you? No wonder you were so eager to throw yourself in the line of fire for me.”

He presses the knife just a little firmer against your skin- hard enough that you feel the cool sharpness of the blade. But he’s precise, and he knows exactly how still to hold it, so it doesn’t slide against your flesh and cut you.

He keeps the knife there with one hand as he works your combat gear down over your hips. He pulls it away long enough to get his pants undone, but then he’s got the blade at your throat again. It might as well be a steel chain wrapped around your windpipe, since as long as you feel its frosted press, you can’t breathe.

“Gonna fuck you just like this,” he snarls, stroking his cock- already stiff and flushed at the tip. You want to put up a fuss, but you just part your thighs for him and let out another whimper of your own desire. He’s going to find out soon enough, but you’re soaked for him like this.

He lines up with slow, careful measure, but as soon as he’s there he slams into you without mercy. Your spine goes concave as you arch up against him, forcing your shoulders into the mattress to keep your head down and your throat away from his blade.

He flips the blade as he starts to fuck you, pumping his hips against yours with brutal slaps.

“Fuck, sweetness, you’re dripping for me. I knew you liked it rough, but this is-“

His voice breaks a little as you clench your muscles around his thick cock, earning a gentle stutter from his hips. His gaze is frozen steel glaring down at you, and as he settles back into his rhythm he trails the dull edge of the knife down your sternum. For all the bruising pressure he’s fucking you with he’s gentle with the knife, circling one of your already-stiff nipples with the point and making you keen.

“Bucky,” you plead, gripping the sheets beneath you in a desperate attempt to keep still. You’re ready to plead, but he cocks a brow and grins, not ready to listen just yet.

“Now you’re all soft for me, hmm? Not so bulletproof anymore.”

“Bucky, please,” you choke, more desperate this time. The pressure is building to unbearable levels inside you, but you’re not there yet. You need more if you’re going to get there. And he hasn’t decided if he’s going to give it to you.

“I bet I could make you cum just like this.” His voice is starting to tremble. He hasn’t been holding back at all- it’s no surprise that he’s almost there himself. He lays the flat of the knife between your breasts and drags it all the way down to your navel as he shifts his hips downward and fucks up into you at a brand new angle, fast and ruthless.

You get there faster than you have in a very, very long time. The shiver that he created with the flat of the cool knife echoes all the way to the tips of your toes and ends in shockwaves at the pit of your stomach. He’s amplified those shockwaves with the shift in angle, hitting you at just the right spot.

You careen over the edge with a tight scream of pleasure and he keeps the knife pressed flat against your spasming body. He thrusts into you a few more times, then buries himself to the balls and stays there, shaking and groaning your name as he pumps you full of his release.  

When it’s over, he draws himself back and lets you sprawl across the bed, messy and spent. He tosses the knife deftly from flesh palm to metal, then tucks it smoothly into the holster of his half-shucked pants.

He steps the rest of the way out of them and falls into bed beside you. Suddenly he’s tender, and he reaches for your waist with one hand while the other, the flesh one, lifts to cup and stroke your cheek.

“Don’t tell me you’re not worth saving,” you mumble into the pillows. He lets out a snort and shakes his head, stretching out on his side and pulling you close.

“Whatever you say,” comes his quiet reply, and you want to smack him. Instead, you settle further into his arms and slide your own around his bare torso. You draw a deep, sleepy breath as he pulls the covers up around the both of you.

The wind rises, howling past the windows and rattling the door on its hinges. And as it settles, you tangle your legs with his and let your tongue curl around the words.

“You’re worth saving to me.”

[patriciasage]

Title: double trouble

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Pairings: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton, Dani/Aubrey Little (mentioned)

Summary: 

Aubrey feels like her heart has crawled up into her windpipe. The flame in her hand flickers erratically. Two copies of Duck stand before them, breathing hard and holding their hands in the air. Ned, pointing the NARF blaster at them both, is attempting to appear confident, but Aubrey can tell he’s panicking.

“Shit, Duck,” Aubrey says, “Why didn’t we think of a code word?”

[posted in full below the break, but you can find me on AO3]

Aubrey is scared shitless, but she won’t admit it.

This abomination isn't like anything they’ve faced. Before, hunting them felt like finding a dangerous animal that had to be put down. This one is intelligent and intentional, and the attacks are personal. Knowing the abomination had taken Dani’s form sends a shiver down Aubrey’s spine.

Eugene had told Duck that he had seen some ‘alien activity’ at Pins & Needles, the bowling and knitting club, so the Pine Guard was sent to investigate.

“You’re not supposed to split the party,” Aubrey whispers.

“But a group of three people cannot investigate two noises at once, Aubrey,” Ned replies, continuing to sweep the staff room with his flashlight. Aubrey is comforted by the flame in her hand as both a light source and a weapon. “Besides, Duck can take care of himself. He has a sword, for goodness sake.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have his powers anymore and he didn’t bring his helmet! I’m worried about him.”

“There’s only the bathrooms left to check and then we shall be reunited. Nothing to fret about, my dear.”

Except, there is something to fret about. A shout echoes through the building, followed by a loud crash. Ned and Aubrey look at each other for a second before sprinting toward the sound. “Duck!” Aubrey calls. A loveseat is overturned in the knitting area and a ball of yarn has made its way halfway down one of the lanes. There’s no sight of their friend.

The phone behind the front counter begins to ring. Before Aubrey can think about answering it, there’s another sound.

A crash followed by some swearing. It’s coming from the area behind the lanes. Ned makes his way to the carpeted path on the edge of the room. Aubrey runs directly down Lane 3, her combat boots skidding slightly on the smooth wood. When she reaches the end of the lane, she doesn’t stop to think before she hits the floor. She propels herself into a slide, feet first, crashing through the bowling pins and the plastic curtain and emerging in the back room. Ned flings open the door, out of breath, just after Aubrey gets to her feet. They take in a strange and frightening sight.

Duck is on the floor and he is grappling with someone who is also wearing a ranger uniform. The person underneath clips him with a punch to the side of the head and dislodges him. It’s dim in this back room but Aubrey can see his opponent’s rugged features, now. It’s Duck.

Duck reaches amongst some bowling pins and retrieves Beacon. He swings it down with ferocity and Aubrey lets out a startled shout as it moves toward her friend’s face. But the attack is intercepted by another Beacon. The two swords wrap around each other like snakes, spitting insults.

“False! Ephemeral!” One of them snarls.

“Pathetic duplication! You cannot compare to Beacon!” The other shouts.

“Fuck,” Aubrey says.

Ned steps forward in the hallway behind the pin-dispensing machines. Aubrey clambers down next to him as he draws the NARF blaster. “Halt, Ducks!” Ned commands. “Step away!”

Both Ducks look up from their tangled position on the floor. The one on top attempts to yank Beacon back, but the two swords are linked together. The force of their sword tug-of-war causes both weapons, still entangled, to be flung in the air. One of the Ducks reaches for Beacon, but Ned takes a threatening step forward. “Hey!” They both freeze. “Stand up and kick the swords to me.”

Aubrey feels like her heart has crawled up into her windpipe. The flame in her hand flickers erratically. Two copies of her friend stand before them, breathing hard and holding their hands in the air. Ned is attempting to appear confident, but Aubrey can tell he’s panicking. “Shit, Duck,” Aubrey says, “Why didn’t we think of a code word?”

They speak at the same time: “I told you!” / “No shit, Aubrey.”

“Alright. Everybody, remain calm,” Ned says authoritatively. He levels the NARF blaster between them. “Tell me something that only Duck would know.” It’s incredibly cliché. Aubrey resists the urge to roll her eyes.

The two Ducks speak at once, again: “Uh, that we hooked up?” / “Like how we slept together eight years ago?”

Aubrey’s jaw drops and she looks over at Ned, scandalized. Ned adjusts his grip on his weapon, flustered and embarrassed.

Aubrey hits him in the arm with her non-flaming hand. “Ned, you idiot, the Bom-Bom looked through all your memories when you were in that hotel!”

“Right,” Ned mumbles, blushing. He clears his throat and attempts to look intimidating again. “Tell us something only Aubrey would know!” Aubrey groans in frustration.

Duck One, on the left, speaks up. “We don’t have time for this, y’all. The more we fuck around, the more time it has to figure out how to get past us.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Ned shouts.

“We can’t let it get away again, Ned!” Duck One reiterates. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “Shoot us both.”

“What!?” Duck Two protests.

Aubrey sees Ned make a decision. Her heart races, but she’s frozen to the spot.

Ned shoots the Duck on the right.

Except his flesh doesn’t come apart in scattered orbs of light. He doesn’t scream like a malfunctioning computer. Red blood, and lots of it, pours out of the wound in his thigh. Duck collapses with a very human yell. “Fuck! Ned!”

The abomination takes advantage of this moment of distraction to create a rift. It steps through, smiling with Duck’s face. The rift closes and Ned’s second foam bullet embeds itself into the wall.

Aubrey and Ned run to their fallen friend. Aubrey feels sick at the sight of his pants darkening with blood. Duck lifts his shaking hands off of the wound for a second before pressing them down again, hard. “It’s not – fuck! – Doesn’t look like you hit an artery. But holy shit, Ned! I could never take a bullet, but I really can’t take a bullet right now, man; I’m just a regular guy! Fuck!”

“I’m so sorry, Duck. I thought it would be very improbable for the abomination to volunteer to be shot.”

“And you thought I would volunteer to be shot!? Fuck, man, you should have done what it said and shot us both. This is worst-case scenario shit right here. Dammit!”

“Yes. I’m –” Ned looks absolutely miserable, but he steels himself and turns to Aubrey, who has stalled next to the growing puddle of blood on the carpet. “Aubrey, go to the front desk and call an ambulance. Bring back the first aid kit under the counter.” He takes off his jacket and places it on Duck’s thigh, replacing the ranger’s hands with his own.

“How do you know it’s under the counter?”

“It’s always under the count– go, Aubrey!”

“Right!” She takes off running, this time through the door and along the side wall. She jumps over the counter and frantically scans over the bowling shoes before finding the landline on the wall.

The phone rings just as her fingers are about to touch it.

Aubrey answers, “H-hello?”

“The ambulance will take too long. I’ll be there soon.”

The voice is familiar, often heard through a telephone. “Indrid! Wait…was that you calling, before?”

“Yes, Aubrey,” he replies a little harshly. “I was going to tell you not to shoot my boyfriend.”

Her first instinct is to protest, correct him that it was Ned who pulled the trigger. Instead, she says, “I’m sorry.”

Indrid sighs and the sound pushes against the receiver. “No. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I’ll be there soon.” The dial tone rings in her ears.

About five minutes later, the bell above the front door rings. Aubrey and Ned, crouched over their injured friend in the back of the alley, share a meaningful look. Duck is slumped against the wall, pale and bleeding through the bandages. They’re ready to protect him.

There’s a deep fluttering of wings and the scraping of claws on the wood flooring. Then…nothing. It’s almost impossible to hear footsteps on carpet. Aubrey raises a fist of flame and Ned readiest the NARF blaster at the door.

Ironically, they’re relieved to see a monster step through. He’s so tall he has to crouch under the doorframe, wings folded close to his body. His huge red eyes glow in the dim room, flickering in Aubrey’s light. A pair of clawed hands raise in response to Ned and Aubrey’s defensive stance, the other pair holding onto a white box. He chitters in a way that Aubrey assumes is meant to be calming. All she can focus on is the movement of his sharp, terrifying mandibles.

Duck speaks up from behind them, his voice weak. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Hello, Duck.” Indrid reaches out a clawed, dark hand and hands Ned another first aid kit. He must have brought this one from his Winnebago or from another room in the building. “You need to add more bandages – tighter – if he’s going to make it to the hospital.”

Ned nods and gets to work. Aubrey wonders absentmindedly why he’s so calm about this. The moment she saw the bullet go into Duck’s leg, she just about passed out.

Indrid turns to Aubrey and tilts his head to the side in a swift, insectoid motion. Aubrey has only seen him in his Sylph form once – the time they asked for his glasses at the Winnebago. If she didn’t know he was a friend, she would be absolutely terrified right now. As it were, she’s still a little unsettled by his proximity. He towers over her, dark and frightening.

Indrid seems to notice her reaction. Shoulders hunched a little, he draws a pair of glasses from a pouch on his waist (like a moth fanny pack, Aubrey thinks). When he puts them on, he becomes the pale, tall, slightly disheveled man she’s familiar with. He’s wearing an old sweater of Duck’s, emblazoned with one of The Smiths’ album covers. Indrid looks a little uncomfortable. Aubrey realizes with a jolt of guilt that it’s because of her.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m just not, you know, used to seeing you as the Mothman. You can take your glasses off if you want!”

“It’s alright, I understand,” Indrid replies. He fiddles with the large lenses and shivers a little. He keeps his disguise on. Aubrey feels bad for making him feel self-conscious. Empathetically, she thinks of how it would feel for people to look at her and act scared or unsettled. Just because he’s a giant, frightening moth doesn’t mean she should make him feel bad about himself.

Before Aubrey can make an attempt at a better apology, Ned speaks up. “Won’t you be spotted transporting him to the emergency room?”

Indrid’s head tilts back and he freezes for a moment, evaluating potential futures. He returns to the present with a sigh. “He’s going to pass out before we get there.” His hands clench in frustration. “I can’t carry him in my human form.” Indrid turns to Duck. “Sorry, Duck, I’m going to have to leave you on the sidewalk outside of the hospital and call in from a payphone. Too many questions.”

Duck manages a weak shrug and grimaces. “Well, shit. Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Indrid glances over at Aubrey before taking off his glasses again. Aubrey makes sure to keep her face neutral as the Mothman appears in front of her once more. Ned scrambles out of the way. Indrid kneels and his claws dig into the carpet. When he stands up, he has Duck cradled gently in his top set of arms, the other two providing support. Duck is a big guy, but he looks almost small surrounded protectively by Indrid’s wings.

Aubrey thinks about how most people would find Dani scary in her Sylph form, but all Aubrey sees is the woman she cares about, the woman she would do anything for. Indrid must be like that for Duck. Even though the Mothman’s transformation is significantly more intense than Dani’s, this is his authentic self. As the four of them make their way out of the back room and past the bowling lanes, Aubrey can’t help but notice the comfort the two take in each other. Duck buries his fingers in some chest feathers while Indrid’s free hand gently strokes his hair. It’s kind of…cute.

Ned opens the front door to the bowling alley and peers around the parking lot. “Coast is clear,” he says, holding the door open for everyone to step through.

Aubrey turns to Indrid. “Take care of him.”

“I will,” Indrid replies, then takes off into the sky with a powerful beat of his wings.

Aubrey and Ned watch until Indrid’s form disappears into the night sky. Ned sighs and Aubrey looks over at him. He looks like he’s about to crumble from guilt. He’s much bigger and taller than her, so all she can do is place a comforting hand on his arm.

“Come on, baby driver, let’s hit the road.”

[archetypal-archivist]

My Beloved, Penis

Fuck it. I was infected by Penis SMP by @demonboyhalo reblogging a bunch of it and the lack of consistent lore bugged me, so I somehow banged out 2000+ words of fanfic about the Penis SMP and how it got started. Lots of internet humor and classic MInecraft shenanigans in this one folks. *slaps roof* This baby can fit so much crack treated seriously, lol. This is also up on my AO3, Zazibine, if you would prefer to read it there.

_-_-_-_

It was never supposed to get so big. It was just an SMP with a couple friends of his he had met from the Hypixel discord server, where he had logged on simply to trash talk the absolute asshole who had dared to kill him last minute in bedwars, only to stumble upon said asshole- going under the name shittyfartbaby69 of all things- complaining to his girlfriend(?) Milfboss in the voice chat. Thirty minutes later of awkward hellos and the manliest of bitching at each other (with Milf chiming in every once in a while to roast them both), and PenisUnavailable had perhaps his first Minecraft friend in, like, forever.

Then Admiral_Anus had entered chat, bitching about his competitor in ABBA Mining and his bullshit bad luck and the whole process repeated. By the end of the day, Penis had three new friends, a private discord server for the four of them, and a promise to meet up with them in Hypixel next Sunday for the ultimate round of bedwars.

The game went spectacularly. Somehow, Admiral had some of the best bridging skills any of them had ever seen, and between Milfboss' terrifying Scottish screaming and pvp and Shitty with his clutch TNT skills, the three of them almost made up for Penis' awful depth perception. They still lost around forty percent of their games, but that was certainly better than Penis' own abysmal record, not helped with his habit of walking off the edge at inconvenient times.

And it was... fun. Usually bedwars was just him playing in his bedroom alone for an hour before he rage-quit and went back to survival for a bit before he died to fall damage and rage quit that too. But shittyfartbaby69 would crack dirty jokes that he'd never even heard of before, and Milfboss would roast him for looking it up on reddit and Shitty would cuss her out as he tried to prove that no, he was being original- all while Admiral would comment of them as if they were a sideshow display. Then Admiral_Anus would turn around and knock an enemy player off their island with some clever pvp and they would all hoot and holler and swear for a while before going back to their conversation, joking about forgetting the topic and starting up a running gag about something new.

And their accents, mmm. PenisUnavailable would never say it, but he really was as American as white Wonder bread and Milfboss' Scottish brogue, Admiral's smooth British snark, and Shitty's shrieking in Australian, well. Ear candy, you know? Even if he teased them mercilessly for pronouncing shit wrong, like "buhguhr". Ppffttt, it still cracked him up how Milfboss had threatened to murder him after the dictionary app on his phone had proved him right that it was actually "Bur-gur", even if Admiral kept insisting it was pronounced "bruh-girl".

Four hours and twenty-eight wins later, they had agreed to meet up the next day to play again, preferably at an hour that wasn't two am for Shitty again. (It was two am for Shitty again, although that was because they played for six that time.) Eventually, it just became a regular thing, them playing bedwars and competing at ABBA Caving- the one game Penis was unnaturally good at, much to Admiral's annoyance- to the point where they ran out of funny jokes about their competitors and the game itself and started talking personal anecdotes.

Milfboss owned a motorcycle. Admiral, entirely independently, also owned a motorcycle, as that was the only vehicle of reasonable speed and style that could actually handle the London traffic. Shitty couldn't drive at all, something about never passing his driving test. Admiral ate cheese at breakfast. Shitty liked to burn his garbage in a metal oil drum in his backyard. Milfboss posted herself singing covers of shit over on Youtube. And it wasn't just real life stuff either- their minecraft skills were also on the table for them all to collectively roast.

Admiral had never seen a single Minecraft Championship. Milfboss thought a flat cobblestone roof was entirely acceptable. Shitty's favorite block was the flint and steel. (That's not a block, sixty-niner. Shut up, is too. OoOh, real clever, 'shut up'! Uh, how about no? How about I fuckin' make you, ever think 'a that? No nono nonono, I'm on two hearts! I'm on two hearts, stop!) It made him curious, honestly. He wanted to see Milf's builds for himself, get revenge on Shitty, see if Admiral really could beat the Ender Dragon with a knockback stick like he said he could.

So he made a minecraft server. And they all joined it. (And stuck PenisUnavailable with the bill, suckaaahhh~!)

Predictably, it all went to Hell in a hand basket pretty quick.

See, it's one thing to play with nutters like his friends in a structured set up like Hypixel games, it's quite another to try and keep a semblance of order in an open world survival server like the Penis SMP. The first five minutes had been him trying to explain the rules and teleporting everyone back to spawn over and over as they tried to "escape the cops," ie, him. The next five minutes was Shitty scream-laughing "scatter!" and other John Mulany references down the mic as everyone ran off to start their houses. Penis, as he was still "god" at that moment, used admin commands to find the closest flower field biome to settle into, hoping for some- ha- peace and quiet.

Shitty, inevitably, ended up trying to settle in the fucking Nether. Like a mad lad, you know, as you do when you are apparently obsessed with all things lava. Milfboss ended up making an oak plank box of a "tree house" in a dark oak forest, while Admiral_Anus picked a nearby swamp for his starter base. Outside of that, they just kinda vibed in discord as they tried to fend off the mobs and get enough resources to try and build up houses that were a bit more than cobblestone towers and wood boxes- er, mostly. Milf kinda just fucked off to go mining, found a skeleton spawner by chance, and made a set of iron gear to stand in the dungeon room with to just chill and kill mobs for a while. She ended up with something like 45 levels and burned her only diamond on an enchanting table so she could buff the Hell out of her iron weapons and armor.

Penis, rather typically, he though to himself, put together a basic sheep farm and started work on a cute little cobblestone cave base. He managed to get a whole twenty by twenty block room done and fully furnished before he noticed the chat full of Shitty's death messages and went to go investigate. After nearly dying in lava twice, he managed to find Shitty's pile of items floating on a basalt pillar about a hundred blocks out from his... base?

It was a soccer ball. Shitty's base was a perfect fucking spherical soccer ball made up of quartz blocks and basalt. Just. What. The Fuck??? Then out popped shittyfartbaby69 and it was PenisUnavailable's turn to misjudge a jump and plummet right into lava. Fifteen minutes and much shrieking later about losing his diamond pick, and it turns out that Shitty didn't really care about his lost items, as he really only had four gold picks, a stack of dark oak, two furnaces, a bucket, and thirteen cooked mutton to his name. Not even a bed, the fucker. He just ran back to his portal from spawn every time he just burned to death, taking the chance to gather resources on the way back each time.

And no, he wasn't following a tutorial for his "football" base. Jerk. (Although Penis did have to admire his determination...)

The day ended on Milfboss, Shitty, and Penis reconvening back at spawn to try and hunt down Admiral_Anus, who they found later having built a thirty block tall castle of all things. Out of cobble stone and the windows weren't quite even, but still, it was pretty impressive. And of course, when presented with a castle, what can what do but siege it? So they lay siege to the castle and Milfboss curb-stomped Admiral in pvp and laid claim to the throne, crowning herself queen before summarily throwing the rest of them out. It was a good day.

And the day after was a good day. They played dodge ball crossed with hide and seek in forest around Penis' house with arrows supplied by Milfboss. And the day after that, too, where they had a building competition using nothing but cobble stone, specifically to spite Milfboss, who had kicked all of their asses the day before. In fact, three wonderful weeks passed of doing normal Minecraft shit and being friends passed by, and every bit of it was great fun.

And then came the fucking role play.

PenisUnavailable would have liked to preface that with he only participated under duress, but really, Milfboss had been queen for too long and nobody wanted to risk TNT cannoning any of Shitty's nice builds, so. Well, the castle was better than his drafty cave, alright? It was cold and wet and didn't have a proper door because aesthetic (and because it usually took him several tries to work an iron pressure plate door), so there were far too many mobs wandering in at night and spawn camping him. He and Shitty had almost the same number of deaths and Shitty lived in the fucking Nether.

So yeah. Castle time, baby! Daddy needs a new home! And Admiral obviously wasn't happy living out of Milf's awful tree house hot box where they all did drugs together on day fifteen and it still smelled of burnt wheat seeds, aka "weed." It was only obvious that they teamed up to try and take back the castle.

The battle itself didn't exactly go great, but it wasn't exactly horrible either. A lot of shouting shit at each other for fifteen minutes, the majority of which he wouldn't remember until it was too late- something about server unity?- only to find out that it wasn't two on one girl boss, it was two on a girl boss and her "baked out of his mind" henchman, also known as Shitty in a squirrel furry skin.

The ears man. Those stupid (cute) ears.

And then they were running for their lives because Milf had somehow gotten her hands on a flame bow with infinity enchants.

It all culminated in a dramatic stand-off in front of Shitty's Nether Soccer ball, Milf on one side, diamond axe in hand, not a bit of armor on because of an unfortunate run in with lava, Penis and Admiral on the other, picks in hand, threatening to tear down shittyfartbaby69's base. Shitty wasn't online just then to comment, but they could all hear him click-clacking away on his keyboard so he obviously hadn't gone to sleep just yet like he said he had. At an impasse, and unable to justify letting her teammate's home be used as collateral, Milfboss stood down and gave up her "crown," an enchanted golden Prot IV helmet she had gotten off a skeleton from her spawner.

Then the great betrayal, the beginning of the end. Shitty came back online. 96-Cam joined the game, not that they noticed in the chaos. Admiral-Anus cackled wildly and PMed Milfboss the message that Shitty had sent him, giving Team Gay Sex permission to tear down his base in the name of winning the war if it came down to it- making Milf's sacrifice worthless in the end. Penis gave another dramatic speech, circling around Shitty, who was acting weirdly apologetic to Milf about betraying her and still wearing that fucking squirrel furry skin.

"You see Milf, there's one thing more powerful than a girl boss, and when it comes down to wars between kingdoms, there's something you need to remember!" Penis got out his golden ax, helpfully labeled 'Piss Off'.  "And that's a dilf with something to lose!" An enderpearl in his off hand and he teleported behind Milf, catching on fire from the lava but still landing the last hit needed to finish her off. She puffed into a cloud of EXP, swearing up a storm, and then Admiral and Penis turned their gaze to the cheering Shitty.

"AAAAAYYY, LET'S GO DADDY!" the squirrel man screeched, wild laughter shorting out the discord voice chat, making him go quiet in patches when the volume overloaded the client. Behind him, Admiral quietly started building a chair out of birch fence posts and slabs.

"Not so fast, shit-ty-fart-baaaaa-byyyyy~, this isn't quite over yet!" Penis fucking chirped, barely holding back his laughter. "You're still a fucking traitor and we can't have you backstabbing us too. Get in the chair for Daddy, okay baby?"

Admiral finished the chair just in time for Shitty to turn around and see the completed monstrosity, shrieking dying off immediately. "Oh screw you, that's just mean. The Hell man? That's not a chair, that's illegal. If you want an electric chair or some shit, just ask. That's just sad." Mentally shrugging, Admiral lit up his work with a flint and steel while Penis pillared up above where Shitty was building an electric chair out of iron bars and trap doors. Admiral nudged Shitty into the chair, Penis dumped a bucket of lava over the edge of the pillar so it flowed over him, and Shitty started giving a soliloquy about how betrayal and how his love for his "Daddy" still "burned strong".

Like his dick. Apparently.

By the time the lava finally hit the floor and burned Shitty to death, Penis was crying with laughter, shrieking down the mike and banging on the desk hard enough to make him forget that his was still on the mouse, making him mine the block under him with the bucket and sending him hurtling to his fiery death too.

It was a good day... almost.

Because, as it turned out, shittyfartbaby69 was actually a tiktokker of some renown and his cam account had record everything. And he had uploaded the bit to tiktok, as you do, where it went viral, where it wasn't supposed to. And Milfboss, who had recently been uploading covers of herself singing old classic Minecraft songs, had attracted the Minecraft fandom kids to her twitter, where she had gone to post her rage about the events of her dethroning and Shitty's execution.

Penis SMP had gotten on. Fucking. Trending. And now everyone was demanding the full clip, their names, their Twitch streamer handles, their characters' backstories.

The masses wanted lore.

Penis watched in disbelief, head in his hands and mouth agape as sugar crash played over a clip of him killing Milf on loop.

They were making memes.

...Oh god. They were screwed.

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 5

The assessment test was pretty consistent.

Those that had the quirks suited for it at first glance had dominated while the rest all seemed to get variations of the same base score. Some slightly better, some slightly worse. This made it pretty easy for Muska to just, consistently get good scores.

When your quirk, *cough* and other things *cough*, essentially affects anything and everything as long as the energy itself isn’t being used by something else it becomes easy to just enhance everything.

Ball throw? More like sniper propulsion. Long jump? Ha, more like flying to the opposite side. Grip strength? She doesn’t even need to touch it. Just contract the energy surrounding the mechanism. Flexibility? She used to do ballet, like, a century ago but muscle memory counts.

She had some tests she couldn’t do well, like the endurance test. She was here to train her quirk after all. Plus the longer the tests went on the harder it was to continue. If she continued at the level she was doing, she’d have one hell of a headache. It was starting to hurt as well. Every time she tried to go over her limits, using the energy actually hurt so she’d rather avoid that.

By the end of it all, Muska had placed a solid 3rd place. Beating out Robocop and PomPom (Bakugo), looking down the list with curiosity, Muska cringed at Midoriya taking last place. The kid definitely couldn’t regulate the energy belonging to his quirk, which felt really weird whenever Muska looked into it, and had broken his finger on the ball throw. However, what she didn’t expect was the feeling of mirth coming off of Aizawa.

Wait a damn minute.

The fucker wouldn’t.

“It was a logical ruse to make you all perform at your best capabilities.”

The fucker did.

Now, even as the class started shouting once more that evening, Muska was highly focused on the man in front of her. That was a lie. He lied about it being a ruse. The energy had fluctuated just slightly when he said ruse, going from mirth to a hazy feeling. The indescribable experience one goes through when they white lie or bluff.

He was going to expel the person who came in last. Something changed that though. What the fu- Oh. Ooooh.

“...If you won’t take this seriously as the hero in training students you are…”

The bastard was judging our potential and disguised it as an assessment!

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

Rat-man hadn’t given Muska a map, either expecting her to ask someone to help or look at the map and guess. She would do neither. Asking for help would warn them beforehand and she might be waved off considering it was a staff meeting. Secondly, she just doesn’t want to.

Instead of her quirk, Muska closed her eyes and felt around the harmony. Surprisingly, the school was ‘clean’ for the most part. A few dark patches here and there but nothing horrendous. That was when she noticed it. A room towards the top of the fourth tower, left side in the back away from the gate, was filled with several aged energies. One of which seemed to be escaping slowly towards something else. That was weird, but definitely where she needed to be.

It took 10 minutes of dedication to get to the tower needed, and 10 more to not stab the principal on sight after she got up the stairs and walked over to a steel door that had a key code. Disregarding the key code box since she definitely didn’t know said code, she decided that knocking in the tune to “Crab Rave” was a good alternative.

The door opened before the first verse was done to a very confused woman in spandex. Giving her a smile, it definitely had an annoyed flair to it since she could be at home and forcing Eras to be cooking right now, Muska slipped past her and into the meeting room. The Rat-man stood on the large table, surrounded by pro hero’s (based on the flashy getups…. Is that a horse gas mask?) and seemed to be in the middle of something. A beat of silence followed as Muska walked over to an empty chair near the front, it looked to be Nedzu’s but the short rat-man didn’t need it, and sat down. Pulling out her phone and starting to scroll through Tiktok. It was an old app but it stayed strong through the years and was still running.

“Uh, whatsa youngin like ya doin here?” Horse gas mask man asked. The heroes all subtly nodded along, too shocked by her nonchalant actions about crashing a very obvious faculty meeting.

Muska’a face twisted into a small frown as she turned her attention up to see the man. Aizawa, who she just now noticed was sitting at the back corner of the table, was just glaring down at Nedzu. Smart move and he was right.

“First of all, don’t call me youngin, I can guarantee I'm older than you. Second of all, ask Remy the rat here for that info.” Muska stated, about to return to her phone before perking up again and continued, “Also rat-man, if you want answered questions they better be done before 5, I have pasta being cooked by a glorified 5 star chef waiting at home.”

Several heroes choked, Aizawa hid a snort into his scarf, at her words. Nedzu, the fiend, just smiled wider.

“Of course!” The chimera chirped.

Yes chirped, maybe he had some bird DNA mixed in?

“I wouldn’t want to keep you too long! Faculty, this is Viridis Muska, Viridis, these are the pro heroes on staff that I trust to keep their mouths shut under oath of an NDA! Your guardian was kind enough to email it over to me this afternoon.”

Muska snorted at that. “Yea sounds like her.” Placing her phone face up on the table next to her, she tapped on the table expectantly as the Rat took his sign to continue.

“The most obvious question should probably be first and I know my dear staff are confused, what did you mean by you being older?”

It was an innocent question, she’ll answer it.

“Why Remy, that's cause unless Humanity has managed to surpass their expected due date of at max 120 years, then I am very much so older.”

The room was filled with confusion. It radiated off them in waves as distress rose at getting such vague answers. Aizawa in the corner sighed and snapped his gaze from the rat to her.

“I’m sure what the rat meant to ask was how old are you exactly and how did you reach that age.” Aizawa stated. Clear and concise.

“Of course, if I remember correctly I should be turning 267 this year,” she said, not pausing even when coffee was spat all over the table from a few of the people around the room, “and I was born a human, however upon entry into the veil and my chosen profession as a witch, I was changed. Reaching the height of my craft has allowed me to unlock certain aspects of my being, immortalizing my body for now. I’m still technically in my ‘teen’ years considering the average witch you’ll meet has passed a thousand years in some capacity.”

Aizawa ran a hand down his face in exasperation and a quiet mumble of “fucking problem ch- witch” escaped. A few other heroes were pale, and the spandex woman looked very intrigued. A twink with blond hair that had the weird energy actually coughed up blood. Muska’s gaze snapped to him at that. The need to heal over writing her focus for a moment before Nedzu cleared his throat for attention again.

Reluctantly she returned her gaze to the rat. If she didn’t know any better she would have thought he was undisturbed. She did, however, know better. The rat was practically vibrating where he stood in excitement.

“Viridis, do you think you could give us a basic rundown of the veil?” Nedzu quizzed, looking more and more like the sadistic researcher he was. Fuck, He's just like the elves.

Muska leaned back and sighed. She expected this and went over it with eras last night. They came up with what could, or couldn’t be talked about for the beginning until they were all deemed trustworthy.

“I can give you a short, very short compared to all the details of the veil, summary but frankly the veil doesn’t want certain info getting into certain hands.” She said, voice cold and steely. She would not be taking a no for this.

“I understand! Anything you can trust us with for now would help the mystery that has been plaguing me for years.” Nedzu said, which caused Muska to cackle a bit.

“I know, the… reps of certain races and collectives have placed bets on when and who would slip and give you the info at some point.” watching with amusement as Nedzu’s whiskers twitched, she sighed and leaned forwards. Pointing a finger at the white board behind her.

Nedzu, who of course understood exactly what that meant, nodded.

Muska stood up and grabbed three markers. One black, one green, and one red. Taking the black marker, she drew a large circle and wrote ‘The Veil’ above it. Uncapping the green marker, Muska spoke up as she marked off sections in the circle with black and labeled them in green.

“In the veil there are set collections and races. I, as a witch, belong to the group called Magia.” Magia was written in a section taking up a 5th of the circle, “It's a collective that represents those who follow magically tied professions, no matter the race you are, since once you become a part of what defines the Magia you are assigned this section. Of course like nations there is also dual representation. However, that's more complicated and this is the short version.”

A quick glance told Muska that everyone in the room was listening with rapt attention. Especially Aizawa and Nedzu, one more concealed than the other.

“Next is the elvish. Yes, elves, and yes, they are very pretentious. The younger ones are more lax and ready for mischief, but the elders tend to be stuck in their ways or research. God the research they do. They’re called the scholars of the abyss. Do you need to know something? Ask an elf. They write and read practically everything there is to write and read.” Another section gets cut off and labeled.

“Then there's the dwarves, oh and I’m listing these in population order as is the sectioning. The more people the bigger the section and so on. I’ll get to influence later. Back to dwarves. They aren’t all blacksmiths as myth leads you to believe but they do make the best weaponry and armor. You can find quite a few in engineering professions. A lot find jobs in mixology and brewing as well.” Another section. So far all are labeled with green.

“Next is the Vampires. These guys are incredibly important in the veil since they were the first members of it. Treated the closest to monsters, they had to run away from society's view earlier than loved races like elves and dwarves. Hell, even witches had some supporters when Halloween started to become a festive rather than a lore holiday. If you want to truly know about the veil? Then ask a vampire. They have every secret tucked away and safe guarded by their Origins.” Muska said, a small mischievous smirk was hidden as they faced the board. The energy shift in Nedzu told her the first time he met Eras would be cathartic considering it's her quirk registry game that led her here.

“Next is a much smaller group called the Fae. They are everything you’ve read and more. Do not engage with them until you’ve gone through Celtic mythology. You’ll become moss like that. I fuckin hate the imps sometimes.”

“In a more general group are the smallest numbers. Collectively known as the ‘inbetween’ these members range from the sirens in the waters to the spirits that haunt the earth and fuel the energy. Demons fall under here too but they rarely visit earth and always do so under contract so they don’t have much of a voice. Dragon descendants too, the last of the actual dragons died thousands of years ago but their blood lines are in half dragons. They have wings on some, horns and scales on others, but all carry the boiling blood of their predecessors.”

Muska took a deep breath after labeling one of the last spaces with green. Capping it, she uncapped the red and wrote a bold ‘FORGOTTEN’ in the smallest space. Turning around she dropped all smiles and pleasantries. Voice harsh and cold as she spoke venom with every word.

“Never, ever, look for those in the forgotten. They do not have representation but they are known and branded. A red circle with a line in the middle along with text that only certain people can read is their symbol and it's burned into their skin. The forgotten are the, essentially, criminals of the veil. The veil is filled with people of dubious legalities to humans but there is a special place to rot for those that cross veil taboos. Whether it’s a necromancer practicing on those that are alive, or a vampire who has gone blood crazy and slipped into the view of humans as food. Elves committing experimentation on live creatures for research or sirens drowning sailors into the ocean out of amusement. These are all examples of forgottens who get branded soon after they are recognized.”

The air seemed stale as Muska ran her glare over the heroes present. Even Nedzu shuddered as the energy in the room seemed to freeze and burn those that took too deep of a breath despite not actually happening.

The heroes nodded once they realized she was looking for a response and her gaze softened but still held a serious edge to it.

“The brands are placed by chosen representatives of the race where the forgotten came from. The representative is chosen by a council meeting between the heads of each race, the heads themselves are chosen by vote or position within the race and the job is carried out within 24 hours of discovery.”

Speaking of the representatives of races,

“Any questions before I head home for my fuckin pasta?”

(She just really wants her pasta)

Tags:

@baguettehead

[kaetastic]

No Longer A Secret

pairing: Maxwell Lord x F!CEO!Reader

summary: The rivalry between Chimtech Consortium and Techlite Coterie was no joke. The electrifying glow around the two CEOs of the company had been more than prominent whenever the two are in the same room. People could just feel it. There’s just one rule, whatever happens in private- stays in private. They knew it would’ve been broken sooner or later.

word count: 2.6k

warning: smut, language, dirty talking, jealous!maxwell, friends (?) with benefits, rough sex ??, choking

note: my first maxwell lord AND (?) pedro pascal fanfiction! yay! i’m so excited, i’ve been enticed by his wonderful acting that made me love all of his characters 🥰- techlite is an actual company but that was the name that i could come up with at the top of my head lol. tagging @storiesofthefandomlovers​ because guess who had a doubt they couldn’t find answers from google? Me! (just a reminder that we still have yet to see Max’s true personality- so :))

Glowing of red rays splayed across the street of the boisterous city. Despite the growing intensity of the vibrant red, there were other territories who decided to claim part of the land as their own. Shades of grey sprinkled over the road as blocks of cars swirl in organized strings. Various signs were hung up, some larger than the other; however, even though the size difference was quite prominent, it seemed it had not done its specified job. The expectations of greater, flashier, eye-catching signs to power over the rest had been over the market’s roof. It did nothing as the pedestrians would graze their eyes over the block letters in yellow or barely readable cursive blue, before continuing their path. 

There was such a gorgeous scene set up right outside the office window, a pro the male CEO had liked. It almost made him feel as if he had the whole view over a chunk of the city. Conquering. However, as time went by- it was nothing but just a passing routine of his day. Despite the great view the city offered, there was nothing else beautiful than the staggering moans inside the closed-off grand office.

“Fuck! Max...” The shrill escaped her throat in a quivering line as her legs tingled from the thrusting of his hips and the piercing of his fingers into her thigh. The combination that he always liked to mix-and-match would always get her to jump in shock. His eyes shot up, the sight of her head thrown back, hairs angled up in peculiar angles from the excessive rubbing against the wooden table had only caused him to double the filthy thought that had already tinted his mind. 

Not to forget her fingers weaving through her locks as if to grip herself into reality when he had snapped his hips. She had already tried several objects that were available on the desk to hold her steady. Except, most of them had been thrown onto the ground, either from her pushing it off the surface, or it was during the commencement of the meeting. Y/N’s lips were gaped open, a relief sigh escaping her lips once his fingers cladded around her throat as if she wore a choker.

“Don’t fucking call me Max.” He growled out, sending shivering vibrations into the warmth between her legs. Despite the enticing sensation on his pelvis slapping into her, Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his infamous attitude. The attitude that claimed of his whiny, brat-like tone. There had been flying rumours behind his back, the words on a creaking wagon with every step he took. They claimed that behind the fake grinning facade of a mask he wore, he was only a smug man. And Y/N, well... she could confirm as their inconsistent, abrupt meetings had proven more evidence than she would need. It was never like that at the start.

In the beginning, the two could barely stand in each other’s peripheral, leading to a very immense, awkward distance between the two CEOs of the dominating companies of the market. Even for other business-related people in the same room as them could see the string that wrapped around their heads did not bend or fold, for it kept a constant distance between the two. As if something would’ve gone off if they had opposed the rules. Then, everything had flipped around. Y/N could barely remember how, but it was something on the lines of alcohols, and running into each other at midnight. Pushing their secret meetings down a hole, they had tried their absolute best to keep their relationship a secret. Although, that was a challenge for the two when they found a narrow spot in the janitor’s room during a gala. She didn’t know how she had managed to drag Maxwell into that one.

“Oh! Fuck,” Y/N moaned out when she felt his other hand crept up her thighs to draw circles on her clit, suddenly pressing the bundle of nerves without a warning. “Right there!” With her hand over his circling ones, she gazed deeply into his eyes, even though there had been a few droplets of tears blurring her sight that were ready to be set free in a blink. “I’m close.”

He nodded, chest heaving at the most strenuous activity he had done for the day. Maxwell watched her unoccupied hands run across his mess of a table, her grip only managing to grasp onto the edge of the freezing wooden table. He let out a chuckle, “Yeah? Fucking come for me. Yeah, just like that... fuck, on my dick, yeah.”

Glazing the sheet of protection was the glistening liquid that oozed out of the woman and onto the man. With eyes rolled to the back of her heads, her orbs settled onto the figure who beamed at his shaft in fascination, “Fuck, look at that,” Maxwell sniggered, his fingers wrapping around his still erected cock. A staggering sigh caressed into the air, his fingers cladded with her juices. Their eyes met, unseen yet shuddering shivers of electricity clambered down their spine, Maxwell quirked his eyebrows at her perched up elbows. “Lay down, baby, I’m not done yet.”

“Are you going to the gala?” Y/N inquired as she sauntered across the office for her clothing, skin still bare and exposed to the air that was now frigid. There was not even a second of coldness when she was thrown onto the table with Maxwell inside her. All the warmth the two had generated together had evaporated in thin air. The male CEO had already yanked up his pants, the trousers that had been coiled to rest around his ankles during the strenuous activity were now buttoned up once again. His eyes lingered on her naked figure, orbs taking in the glowing sight. The warm rays of the afternoon smeared along the canvas of her.

Maxwell sniggered, head shaking in amusement, “I just made you come three times, and the first thing you ask me is if I’m going to the gala?” His fingers slipped the leather belt that sat on the corner of his wooden table into the slits. Arms resting onto the cushion of his chair, he gazed upon the sinful sight. The thoughts that had sparked the meeting swerved into his head. 

“Well? Are you?” Y/N quirked her eyebrows, finally clipping on her bra. The nearly shredded looking dress in her grasp, looking as helpless as it could be. The results of hasty hands.

“I’d rather stay at home, and get ruined there.” Y/N let out a chuckle, her arms slipping into the sleeves. While her body had now been covered by the previous dress that had been yanked off of her (nearly ripped into two fabrics by Maxwell’s force), Maxwell didn’t bother to button up his dress shirt. The male CEO had poured himself whiskey in the rock glass, tongue already coated by the day’s delicacies.

“I’m going, dragged once again to these stupid meetups. Always end up talking about what we’re going to eat for breakfast or shit.” Despite her mumbling the last sentence under her breath, Maxwell had heard it clearly. Amused, he chuckled.

“Who’re you going with?”

“Not sure yet. Heard that Michael might be asking me.” With that, Maxwell’s smile was wiped off clean from his face. The crescent frown he wore had not matched the slightly curling of Y/N’s lips. 

“Michael? Michael from Kingsley Steel?” If his mood had not declined down enough, the nod from the woman had been the reason it passed the horizontal line of zero.

Creasing down her folding dress that seemed to find comfort in brushing against each other like an accordion, Y/N swiftly swept her foot inside her heels, “If you’re ever need of a gal, I’m sure I can hand a list of those who could tolerate you, Maxie. Not promising there would be a name!”

“Don’t call me that!” The male CEO shot up from his chair, the glass still in his hand.

Giggling while she sauntered towards the door, she threw a glance over her shoulder, waving at the man, “Thank you for the delighting meeting, once again, Maxie.”

Maxwell huffed, planting himself back into the warm seat, his palm running to rub his face. This was the situation he got stuck in. How does he flee from it?

Gold engulfed the room. Well, that was all he could see with his limited peripheral. Obnoxious sparkle and twinkles of the warm glow from the light bulbs were angled to bounce off the draping gems. Maxwell sneered, although his expression was covered when he took a sip of the champagne. If he had to breathe one more second in the room, he would throw himself out of the window. Or, if he had been slightly daring with alcohol in his system, he would just throw himself onto the tall tower of gingerly arranged champagne glasses. There had been too many- countless parties thrown at the same party hall, it was starting to get onto his nerves. Maxwell was about to lose it. There had been good memories and without a doubt, bad, but all the man wanted to do was just ram a wrecking ball. 

It was quite rare to see the owner of the Chimtech Consortium alone, lingering in a pack of one. Especially without a date. No one to accompany him. Maxwell sometimes liked it that way. Sure, it could’ve started some burning rumours, but the man has had enough of the business people who went on and on about this and that. The recent pair he had chatted with had gone on and on about their branch they were opening down south. Maxwell was so close to smashing his cup against their heads. 

In the midst of judging people with scurrying, hawk-eyes, Maxwell was pulled to a screeching halt. A sight that caused his blood vessels to pump in a furious speed. The pace sent rapid electric currents to zap around the muscles of his fingers. When he realized that he had been suffocating the neck of the glass, he let out an exasperated huff. He didn’t bother the inconvenient place he had kept the glass, knowing someone who was paid to do the job would clean so. 

A large grin was plastered on Y/N’s lips, almost as if it was wipe-less. Maxwell sniggered, eyes nearly rolling at the sight of the fake facade she was performing. There had never been a moment a single muscle on her lips faltered. Her cheeks must fucking hurt. He couldn’t help but find narrating her thoughts to be amusing. Although he liked jabbing at the mask she paraded around under the grand chandelier, there had been something more infuriating. The arm that subtly rested behind her back. Oh, how bad he wanted to smash his fists on that brunet- Michael. There had been so many things parallel between the two male. Michael was young. Maxwell couldn’t deny that he was ageing, more prominently. 

There had been other points he could consider, but that would only make Michael look less than what he was. Indeed, Maxwell had just snipped his train of thought before the list could even continue. The CEO knew he had everything over Michael. Like the success of the passed-down company was a starter, although, the passed-down part had sounded a bit less... threatening. Even the name ‘Michael’ sounded so bitter, like an overcooked line of meat on a steak. Maxwell reminded himself to make sure there were no Michaels running around his office. It would only bring up memories he didn’t want to remember.

Maxwell pondered if she could feel his eyes on her. Usually, she would’ve noticed. Their discreet eyes meeting across the whole room could never be hindered. The only reason being whatever they participated behind the walls could not just be dusted over with a layer of padded dirt. Unfortunately for him, Y/N hadn’t bothered to pull away from the conversation. 

Maxwell barely had time to process the breeze swerving beside his body. Maybe it had been the disconnection between his brain and the muscles of his legs because he was already midway approaching the woman. He didn’t bother to stop, “Mr Harris! It’s so great to see you here, Michael, Y/N.”

The smile he had claimed to be wipe-less vanished from her face. Just a stoic expression remained. Even though the coverage, Maxwell knew there were a lot more going on behind the mask she yanked up. It could be endless- breaking the one rule (the only Maxwell had decided to prioritize and bothered to remember) they had or to why he had interrupted a well-flowing conversation, “Maxwell, I did not expect you to be here, with you know, your new launch and all.”

Feigning a burst of humoured laughter, Maxwell swatted his hands, “There’s always time for partying.” The eldest man of the four cackled, lungs nearly squeezed out of his ancient chest. The only reaction from the group aside Michael’s pathetic, much more, died-down laugh. 

“There always is, you must enjoy your youth, or else you’ll end up like an old clump, like me.” Michael shook his head, a genuine smile plastered on his face.

“You’re not old, Mr Harris.” 

“Anybody who is called with a ‘Mr’ behind their name is considered old, Michael.” Y/N chuckled.

A second of silence seeped through the bodies, slithering up their spines as they soon lost themselves in the body of water they call thoughts. Something that shouldn’t ever happen. While Michael ran his fingers on the rim of his glass, Maxwell could practically hear the train of thoughts in his mind. The imagination of the boy’s fingers running on the bare body of the woman who remained at the peculiar shape of figures played in his tainted head. Maxwell had seen and he had drum his fingers on every inch of Y/N’s skin. Michael would not be able to do that... or see it. Michael was just a boy. Maxwell was a man. 

The off-toned moaning in his head echoed of Michael’s name. It would never happen. Plus, it wasn’t how she would moan. Maxwell could feel his eyes roll at the teenager’s thoughts (Michael was in his mid-twenties, something Maxwell did not care to acknowledge). Y/N’s and Maxwell’s eyes met, her furrowed eyebrows jabbed at him. They had never been this close in the public, always keeping a safe distance. Now, it felt as if it was only her who had remembered the ground rules. What was he trying to do? 

“Uhm, I’ve got to go.” Neck zapping in a fluid movement, almost as if possessed, Michael’s body swiftly turned away from the group. The warmth of his arm around her waist leaving a spot of a cold kiss. 

Y/N pulled away from her cup, “Where are you going?” She had been too late. Michael had already swum through the crowds of known figures who had hefty-weighed price tags. Red crept up her neck. Y/N wasn’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment. Even though she could not see those who were ogling their eyes for the next upcoming rumours of the woman who had been left by her date, she knew something would be the talk of the next day. And that frustrated her. 

“Well, that leaves you with me, baby girl.” With a nod at the astounded Mr Harris, Maxwell’s fingers clasped around Y/N’s wrist. Mouth gaped open, she could see the blurred out walls of shocked guests. Her leg was moving, feet shuffling against the red carpet, but it felt as if the scenery around her was the one to shift. The only thing her eyes had focused on was the back of Maxwell’s creaseless suit and his sleeked back hair. Soon, she was met with the dark canvas of twinkling stars, overlapped by flashing of cameras. It was no longer ‘whatever happens in private- stays in private.’

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted to You

Part II: All Along the Watch Tower

Summary/Reader’s Notes: In this part the boys head to Columbia to do some reconnaissance. They all find out why they are really there and as expected...Frankie does not handle it well. There will obviously be more ‘reader’ centric parts as time goes on. I thrive for your thoughts and comments. **Shout out to @rae-gar-targaryen​ for being an amazing person and helping me with translations. The italics are either Spanish, with the translations in ( ) or they are the boys talking over the coms as a reminder that they are spread out and not near one another--let me know if that reads okay or if there is a better way to do the Spanish/English in the paragraphs.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Pope’s sister!Reader Word Count: 5k (this is a theme...) Warnings/rating: R/18+ Language, derogatory language, STRONG kidnapping elements, blood, violence, execution/death, general Frankie DISTRESS. Angst, Bro Hugs, Man tears, TOM. (I am in pain after this. Please give me your feelings)

Part I 

MASTERLIST

Seventeen thousand dollars for one week of reconnaissance wasn't anything to shake a stick at. And Frankie was almost ashamed to say when Pope told them that was the initial pay out, they all jumped on it without knowing many details. Times were tough. Tom was going through a divorce, paying two mortgages, and scraping by as a piss-poor real estate agent. And in the words of Pope, the real crime was that he had been shot for his country five times and couldn't afford to send his daughters to college. Will was still giving pep talks, to kids barely old enough to drink, through the recruiting agency and traveled so much settling down and having a family wasn't an option. Benny was street brawling in a cage every Friday night for what he could make playing penny slots up at the casino. And Frankie--well, Frankie drifted from one job to the next, never having a job long enough to get basic health insurance and pay for anything that would help the nightmares he had every night. So, maybe it wasn't all that sad when the four of them jumped at the idea of making five figures for a week of work. 

They had each packed a bag and flown over the borde into Columbia where they spent the first day letting Pope show them around and talk about the terror that narcos like Lorea was unleashing on the country. He laid it on pretty thick when honestly, he didn't need to. They were already there. No backing out now. 

Somewhere on the outskirts of the city Pope had a storage unit that was basically full of everything they would ever need for recon work. They loaded up on assault rifles and ammunition, radio communication tools, med kits, binoculars and scopes, hell, he even had fucking night vision goggles for each of them. Pope tossed Frankie a bulletproof vest and he strapped it on, still looking at the impressive wall to wall unit of tactical gear. He knew he had been after Lorea for three years, but this was excessive, especially if it had all been paid for by the Columbian government. 

As far as the four of them knew, this mission was off the grid. Pope had cut a deal with local authorities and had intel that Lorea had about seventy-five million dollars of drug money holed up in the middle of the fucking jungle. If they decided to take the job after the recon, well, they got to keep twenty five percent of it. Frankie couldn't even begin to think what he would do with that kind of money. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something Pope wasn't telling them. He spent the majority of the first leg of the trip waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. 

“Holy shit,” Will whistled as Pope showed them the storage unit. “Where did you get all of this, man?”

“I told you,” Pope said, tossing a vest at the blond. “I’ve been after this guy for three years. The Columbian government is extremely motivated--if I say I need it, it shows up within a week or two.” 

Benny picked up one of the assault rifles and flipped it over in his hand, examining the mag chamber and nodding. “Must be nice.”

“Listen,” Pope stopped digging through the supplies and looked at them. “I need to know you guys are sure about this. Lorea isn’t in some hole in the jungle--it’s a mansion. We’re talking guards, barbed wire fencing, security cameras. That’s why the reccie is so important.”

“We get it, man,” Tom said holding out his hand. “It’s serious shit. Now give me my com.” Tom held out his hand and Pope put a radio and earpiece in his palm. And that was that. They were all in.

The next day the five of them were in the thick of it. Frankie moved slowly through the trees, big, lush green leaves slid along his arms and torso as he stepped carefully through the mud and sticks. His steel-toed boots were quiet enough for this terrain but he kept his eyes peeled for any trip wires or trigger cameras. 

Will walked alongside him, mirroring his footsteps with about ten feet between them as they swept a path towards the chain link fence that surrounded the perimeter. Pope and Tom had set up a vantage point on the hill, using binoculars to walk them through the path and tell them what they were up against. 

It was humid as fuck and his shirt clung to his back and he felt a bead of sweat start to drip down from the brim of his hat. As he smacked a mosquito off of his arm he remembered there was a reason he had moved back to Texas.

“What are we lookin’ at, Cat?” Tom said over the radio and his voice came clearly into Frankie’s ear.

“I got two guards by the south end.” He clicked the button on his headset and kept moving.

“Looks like I got one by the gate,” Will confirmed. “How reliable is this informant, Pope?”

“She’s good for her intel.” Pope answered simply.

Pope’s informant was a local, who apparently had been feeding him information off the grid for a ticket out of the country and a small cut of the money they recovered. Apparently she drove a van onto the base like clockwork to deliver loads of Lorea’s cash. Some of the guys, mainly Tom, figured the intel was bullshit and Pope was too trusting because he had most likely been balls-deep in this broad. But if Pope trusted her, then so did Frankie.

“Yeah, that means she’s smokin’ hot.” Benny said, from his spot on the north side of the Mansion. “Blonde or Brunette? I’m trying to paint a picture here while I sweat my ass off in these fuckin’ trees.”

“Fuck off,” Pope said flatly.

“Keep the radios clear, assholes,” Tom said with annoyance in his voice. “Focus.”

Frankie walked a few more feet, making sure he stayed in the cover of the foliage as he peered through the links. And clear as day he saw their first issue. A young girl, probably about ten years old, ran past one of the guards chasing after a soccer ball, before a young boy stole it from her and they ran back into the house. 

“Shit.” He cursed. “Pope, we got kids here. Does he have kids living here with him? Because if he does that complicates things and that is not what I signed up for.” 

“The family’s not the problem,” Pope’s voice came through his ear. “They’re the answer.”

“Why?” Frankie felt the anger in his voice but he couldn’t stop it. He did not sign up to hurt kids. Drug lords? Sure. Their guards? Absolutely. If it shot at him then he would shoot back--but kids did not fit that criteria. 

“Church.” Pope said like that answered everything and the rest of them waited in silence for him to continue. “Lorea is very devout. Every Sunday morning he sends three guards to the six AM service. When they get back, he sends the rest of the team with his family down to mass. That leaves him and three guards in that house. That’s our way in.” 

“Why would he do that?” Will said.

“Worried about someone taking his kids,” Pope shrugged. “And he never leaves his money.” There was a pause over the radio before Pope continued, “Plus--I don’t think he expects anyone to actually have the balls to try and rob him.”

“What does that say about us?” Will said, approaching the fence line and looking through a few of the slats. “Shit…”

“What do ya got, Will?” Tom said over the com and everyone waited with baited breath. 

“I got an execution about to go down.”

Silence was over the coms as they all waited to hear more details. Frankie lowered his binoculars and stepped carefully over the fallen branches on the forest floor. Once he was next to Will, he peered through the slats in the worn down boards that leaned against the fence. Sure enough, there were a handful of men on their knees in the dirt, burlap bags over their heads as one of Lorea’s henchmen pressed the barrel of a handgun to the back of their skull. 

“Fuck,” Frankie whispered, shaking his head. 

Will closed his eyes as the first shot rang out and the man at the beginning of the line fell to his knees in a splatter of his own blood and brain matter. “Not our place, man.” The blond whispered and he was right. Going in there to stop whatever was happening would do nothing but get them killed. 

That’s when they heard the screaming.

“No!” her voice rang out as another shot echoed in the courtyard of the mansion and the second hostage fell beside the first. "¡Pare! ¡Pare, por favor-- no hicimos nada! Déjame ir."  Maybe if you tried Spanish they would listen to you, but you doubted it. (“Stop! Stop--please, we didn’t do anything--let me go!)

Frankie felt his stomach drop to his feet. He knew that voice. He would be able to pick her voice out of a crowd anywhere. He had heard her happy. He had heard her sad. He knew the way she whispered sweet nothings in his ear. However, what he had never heard was the near hysterical level of fear that her voice held now. 

“What the fuck?” Will whispered as realization dawned on him too and the pair watched another of Lorea’s lackies pull you from the van screaming and kicking as hard as you could. 

Your blindfold had fallen off in the transport from the city to the jungle in the middle of nowhere and although your hands were still zip tied in front of you, that didn’t stop you from trying like hell to get away. The burly bald man that pulled you from the van wrapped a large arm around your chest and picked you up off the ground. You continued to scream as they shot another one of your crew in the execution line and finally your assailant put his hand over your mouth. 

“(Y/n)...” Frankie wanted to puke. Your screams cut through him like a knife. The physical pain he felt in his chest as he watched you with wide eyes was almost too much to bear. His feet started to walk him toward the gate before he even realized he was moving.

“Cat!” Will hissed, getting up from his hiding spot and grabbing him by the back of the shirt. 

“Let me go--” Frankie tried to shove him off, keeping his voice down as much as he could. His hands shook, his knees felt like they were going to give out, but he had to get to you. His body was moving faster than his brain was processing. Why the fuck were you here? Here of all places.

Will tightened his grip and pulled him back down to his crouched hiding position. “You walk in there now, you’re dead and so is she!” Will all but begged him to listen to reason. “I don’t know why she’s here but at least she’s alive.”

Frankie held his jaw tight as he looked at Will and then back to the fence. 

“Pope,” Benny said over the radio from his vantage point. “Did you know she was here?” 

The radio stayed silent. Frankie put one knee on the ground to balance himself. He bit his lip and nodded to Will. He would stay put for now. But if they tried to kneel you down in the execution line, he was going in--with or without the others. 

As the bald man put his hand over your mouth you did the only thing you could think of and bit down hard on his fingers, driving your heel backwards against his shin. He dropped you like you had burned him and you stumbled, catching yourself on your bound hands before getting back up and trying to run. 

“Cuca!” the man cursed, shaking his hand out and quickly lunging to grab you by the hair. When you tried to kick him again he spun you around and back handed you across the face.

You hit the ground hard, a small cry coming from the back of your throat as your face hit the dirt. You could already feel the twinge in your lip and taste pennies on your tongue as you spat a small bit of blood onto the gravel. Hoping that you could close your eyes and this would all have been a dream, that's what you did. The fucker had hit you hard enough that you coughed, a hollow ache settling in your chest as you fought to not let yourself cry. 

A smaller man exited the van and saw what was happening and slapped the bald lackie on the back of his head. "No dañe la mercancía!" (Don’t damage the merchandise)

"Esta puta necesita un bozal." The bald man spat back as he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet. (This bitch needs a muzzle)

“Lorea estará muy enojado…” The smaller man scoffed and waved off the bald man, heading back across the yard. (Lorea is going to be upset.)

Cunt. Merchandise. Bitch. Frankie listened to them degrade you and he felt the bile rise up in the back of his throat. He wanted to kill each and every one of them. No. Not just kill. He wanted to make them suffer. He wanted to smash that bastard's head against the bricks over and over until he could never lay another finger on you, or anyone else, ever again. He wanted to shove the barrel of his own gun inside that prick's mouth and pull the trigger until there was nothing left of his skull but a handful of teeth. 

Frankie started to move forward again and Will grabbed him before he could get more than a couple of steps. 

"Frankie!" He all but pleaded as Frankie tried to fight his grip with a grunt and they both struggled in the leaves. Will put his arms around the other man's shoulders in sort of a modified choke hold and kept him stationary.

"You gotta let me go man--they’re gonna hurt her." Frankie tried desperately. His throat was tight, his heart was pumping way too fast, he couldn't just sit here. "I have to go get her--"

"I can't do that, brother," Will shook his head and tightened his grip ever so slightly. "It's a death sentence and you know it. We gotta regroup. Come up with a plan. We'll get her--I promise."

Frankie watched helplessly as they took you inside the mansion and out of his sight. Two years. It had been almost two years since he had seen your beautiful face. Two years since that night after playing pool at that dive bar on the outskirts of Dallas. Two years since he had smelled your skin or tasted your lips and yet there you were--just as goddamn beautiful as he always remembered and he couldn't get to you. 

"Whatta ya want to do, Pope?" Benny's voice came over the coms and brought them all back to their present task. "You're running this shit show."

"Meet back at the trailhead entrance. We'll go over everything and come up with a plan." Pope's voice said much too calmly in response and Frankie hated him for it. 

He knew. He had known from the minute he showed his face back in Texas that you were here. He had lied to his friends and worst of all he had lied to Frankie. But why? Pope knew better than any of them how close Frankie was to you--that you were special to him. 

He jerked his arms free from Will's grasp and stood up. He wouldn't do anything rash, he needed time to think. Ripping his hat off and squeezing the bill in his hand he cursed quietly and ruffled his own hair furiously. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" He growled as he started back towards the rendezvous point, not bothering to look or even care where he was going. He ripped the com from his ear and let it hang useless from the collar of his shirt.

“We need to get the fuck out of this jungle.” Will watched him go and squeezed the button on his radio again. "Cat's not doing so hot, man."

"Yeah, no shit." Benny retorted. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Easy, smartass,” Will warned.

"Don't let him go in that house and blow our cover." Tom said, flatly. As if he really thought Will would be stupid enough to let such a thing happen.

"Way ahead of you." Will snapped back before getting up to follow his friend back through the trees.

---

The five of them drove from the mansion in silence. By the time the Jeep crawled its way out of the rough terrain of the jungle the sun had already set. Crickets were starting to chirp and a few fireflies speckled the tall grasses on the sides of the road as dusk took over. Will drove with Pope in the passenger seat and Frankie in the back, purposely putting distance between the two men for the ride to the small village that they were staying at. 

No one said anything until Will parked the car in the gravel in front of a dive bar and all four doors opened as they climbed out. Before any of them could blink, Frankie walked around the car and grabbed Pope by the lapels of his button up shirt and slammed him back against the side of the Jeep. 

“Fish!” Will said, but Pope held up his hand and waved the blond off as he winced. Frankie had had the entire drive to stew about this and he more than deserved whatever he had to say. 

“You knew,” Frankie grit his teeth and got close to Pope’s face. “You fucking knew she was here and you said nothing!” 

“Is that true, Pope?” Benny asked, sticking a cigarette behind his ear. 

“Yeah,” Pope whispered and nodded his head. 

“Why?” Frankie hissed and pulled him forward slightly, pushing him back against the jeep again, not bothering to be gentle about it. “Why wouldn’t you fucking tell us, man? Why wouldn’t you tell me??”

Frankie couldn’t keep his voice from cracking at the end and at this point he didn’t care. The thought of you in the hands of a Columbian drug lord was something he could barely fathom. Were you scared? Of course you were. Had Lorea let any of his guys touch you? Hurt you more than he had seen in the driveway? There wasn’t a way for him to tell you that they were coming to get you. You were alone--and he couldn’t do a damn thing. 

“I needed to know that you guys were in this because you wanted to be--not because you would feel guilty if you said no. This is dangerous. We have no support. No back up. No med e-vac. We are on our own.” He said each word pointedly, looking from Frankie to the other guys individually before back to the man in front of him. “I needed to know that you accepted that because you wanted to and not just because my little sister was in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Frankie, laughed bitterly and shook his head. “You’re something else, Santiago. A flat tire is trouble. Getting laid off is trouble--she could have been killed.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Pope bit back, finally raising his voice a little. “Do you think this has been easy for me? That’s (y/n) in there! I’m her brother! I’m the one that chose the dangerous career--she was supposed to be safe!”

“How long have you known?” Tom asked.

“A few days,” Pope said, quietly. “I knew she was in the area because we were supposed to meet up. When she never showed the locals said Lorea had ambushed a group of Americans--journalists, a couple doctors. I tracked the ping off of her cell for a day, but then I lost it. I knew he had to have her.”

“Goddamn,” Tom said, shaking his head.

“I knew I needed help,” Pope looked back up at them. “And if I use any of the guys down here, Lorea will get whiff of this thing and he will be gone--and so will she.”

“Whose money is it?” Tom asked and Pope looked at him with a carefully blank face.

“It’s complicated. You were paid through a third party LLC--”

“Ehhh, it’s not that complicated. A hundred thousand dollars for a recon--,” Tom said sarcastically. “Whose money is it, Pope?”

Pope sighed and shook his head. “It’s my money.”

“Hijo de puta,” Frankie cursed and let out a pissed off chuckle. (Son of a bitch)

“That doesn’t change anything!” Pope tried but none of them were having it.

“Of course it does!” Will said, letting his voice get louder for the first time that night. “You thought you had to pay us to--” He stopped himself and took a deep breath.

Frankie eased his grip on the other man’s shirt a little bit and bit his lip. His chest ached. His heart felt hollow between his ribs and he wished the rock that was sitting in his throat would go away and let him take a deep breath as well. 

“How could you think that we would have said ‘no’?” Will asked. “We care about her too--she’s your family.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you the truth!” Pope pointed at him and squared his jaw. “If it was personal you all would have followed me blindly and I needed it to be your own choice.”

“You’re an idiot, Pope,” Benny said less tactfully and Will elbowed him in the ribs.

Pope wasn’t listening to them. He was focused on his best friend and he said the only thing he could think of. “I’m sorry, Frankie.” He was sorry, more than he could express. He didn’t want to be doing this, to see the people he cared about most going through this shit-storm. But they were here and it was up to him to get everybody out safe. 

Frankie released him abruptly letting Pope fall back against the Jeep and leaving his shirt wrinkled from his white-knuckled grip. He shook his head and rubbed a large hand over his eyes and down his face. “I need a minute.” He kept his voice low, trying to keep his emotions at bay as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walked off into the dark of the parking lot, focusing on nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other. 

The four of them were left in silence as they watched him go. 

“So, what about the money?” Tom finally spoke and Benny chuckled.

“Fuck you, man,” Will shook his head and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ll go see if he’s okay.” He nodded in the direction Frankie went before walking away.

Pope rubbed the back of the neck and nodded. He looked back at Tom. “The intel on the money is still valid. Lorea is still running a fully operational drug business. It’s just an added bonus to if we can pull this off.”

“Good,” Tom nodded and crossed his arms. He jerked his head over towards the patio of the bar. “Come on. You owe us a drink and we need to come up with a plan.”

---

Frankie put the cigarette between his lips and flicked it to life with his metal lighter. He inhaled deeply, pocketing the metal square and closing his eyes to rub them furiously with the back of his hand. What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to wait all night before they loaded up and headed out?

He thought about the last time he saw you. I missed you. He always missed you. The way you said his name, the way you smelled, the way your arms wrapped around his waist as you laid your head against his chest--he missed it all. 

“Shit,” he cursed quietly, moving the cigarette from his lips so he could wipe the couple of tears that had fallen off of his cheeks. 

“Cat?” Will asked, and Frankie stayed facing away from him.

“Yeah?” he said with a clearing of his throat, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Will.

“You okay?” Will asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, yeah,” Frankie nodded, taking another drag off of his smoke and blowing it back out through his nose. “I’m great.” His tone was hateful, but he couldn’t make it sound any other way and Will knew it wasn’t directed at him. 

“She’s gonna be okay, man--”

“Is she?” He angrily threw his cigarette onto the ground and twisted it under his boot. “How long have we been doing this? How long have we gone after guys like him?”

“Frankie--”

He took a step closer to Will and pointed his finger into his chest but Will stayed perfectly still. “Guys like Lorea do whatever the fuck they want until guys like us stop him. They take and they take and he has her! Why? Why did it have to be her?”

Will swallowed hard as he watched Frankie’s eyes get wider. It may have been the middle of the night, but the light of the crescent moon couldn’t hide the water that was pooling at the edge of his eyes. Will’s own heart broke for the desperate man in front of him. Of course he cared for you, too, but it was nothing compared to the torch that Frankie held for you. They all knew that. 

“What if he hurts her?” Frankie, dragged his hand down his mouth and rubbed his jaw, trying to steady his shaking words. “What if--”

“We can’t think like that. You cannot think like that.” Will shook his head and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’re going to go in that fucking mansion tomorrow and we are not leaving without her. I promise you that.”

“What if he’s already killed her? And I never got to--” Frankie bit his lip and looked out into the street with a shake of his head. “And I never got to--” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t put into words all of the things that he never got to do when it came to you. And now, for the life of him, he could not come up with a single thing that was so important that it had stood between the two of you all of these years. He closed his eyes and fell silent, not even resisting when Will pulled him into a vice-like embrace and clapped him on the shoulder a few times. 

“We’re gonna get her back. And you’re going to tell her everything you’re thinking. Okay?” Will lowered his voice and squeezed Frankie’s shoulders in support. All Frankie could do was nod and hope he was right.

--

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[eerythingisshaka]

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Jason Momoa x Reader

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: Bad attitudes/smut

Vroom vrooooom!!

Your eyes squeezed tightly in annoyance before you started to buck your blankets off of your body, punching your bed in aggravation.  Every weekend it’s the same thing: at 7 am your sleep is disrupted by the violent roar of a motorcycle engine.  You just moved in to your new place a month ago and at first you assumed that the disturbance would be temporary.  People work on their vehicles on the weekend, and testing things may require a few loud repetitious sounds. But EVERY weekend?  The two days out of the week you get to be able to sleep without an alarm blaring and you still have to wake like its a work day.

Today was even worse because it sounded like it was right outside your window.  The funk of fumes made you cough while you got up to look out your window.  No one was outside but you put your shoes on anyway.  No way were you taking this lying down.

No shame in your bonnet game, you walked out in your pajama shorts, tank and slippers to survey your surroundings in the parking lot.  You see some guy hunched over a big old looking bike, his back turned to you.

You marched over to him without abandon, building up your month's worth of frustration to fire off at him.

"Hey man!"

The putter of the engine must've drowned out your words so you shouted again.

"Hey! You know what the hell time it is? Some people are tryna sleep!" you said to the back of his messy man bun.

He turned his face to you slowly with a raised eyebrow, looking amused as his eyes settled on your slippers.

You felt self-conscious, taking a step backward and crossing your arms.  "I had to hear you tinkering at this garbage at ungodly hours for a month!"

He reached for the ignition and turns the motorcycle off.  

"It’s not garbage.  It’s vintage."

His voice boomed in the newfound silence, throwing you off your anger rhythm.  He wipes his dirty hands against his well worn jeans as he comes to a standing, towering over you like a giant.  

You felt a wave of vertigo just looking at him but remained on subject.   "Looks old, like it should be thrown away."

He crossed his arms bouncing momentarily on his toes just making him grander.  "Perhaps you have heard of a concept called recycling, refurbishing, or reusing.  Just because something has lost its luster doesnt mean its a pile of junk."

“Well excuse me for liking the finer things in life.  Couldn’t kill you to trade this in for something better and less noisy!  So keep it down in the meantime.”  You walked off in a huff, scraping the soft soles of your slippers across the pavement.

“Nice to meet you too neighbor, the name is Jason!  I could show you how to sew that hole in your shorts too since you like the finer things!”

You stopped suddenly, sticking your butt out to look at the supposed hole.

“Don’t worry.  Looks good.”  His voice dipped into a tone that sounded predatory.  You walked backwards glaring at him  as you made your way back around the corner out of his line of sight.  

You stopped for a second to feel your behind and come across the hole you got roasted on.  You kiss your teeth, feeling yourself get warm with embarrassment.  It didn’t matter to you because sleep clothes aren’t supposed to always be fancy schmancy.  You peeked around the corner and spied on him as he worked.  He had the nerve to talk about anyone with his dusty olive green Henley on with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his large forearms and that geometric tattoo.  You couldn’t care less about his opinion, long as his motor keeps quiet.   The next weekend, you stayed out hella late catching up with friends after work.  Happy hour was popping and you are a sucker for discounted drinks, especially when they are as good as the ones at your favorite bar.  Your Lyft dropped you off in front of your place at 3 AM and you trudged to your front door and catch a glimpse of something in your peripheral as you dug out your keys.  On top of the trash bag there was a note scrawled on a piece of paper that says RECYCLE.

“What the fuck?”  you say out loud and picked up the note, turning it over you see the signature -Neighbor J.   

You balled up the paper.  “Oh you think you run my life now?  Where the hell he get the nerve even coming up to my front door.  He don’t know me, but he will!”  You cursed out the air, practicing what you plan to say to him next time you see him and plotting your next moves.

A few hours later, morning broke and so did your peace.  A loud banging at your door makes your heart race from surprise.  You prayed silently that it’s no police as you bounded toward your door and look through the peephole.  

You jumped back just as fast when you recognize the face, snatching your bonnet off and fingering your curls loose to be more presentable.  You scuttled over to a nearby mirror to check that your shirt had no stains, and shorts no holes.  All looked clear but you didn’t want to open the door in loosely fitted mickey mouse pajama bottoms, changing fast into some boy shorts.

After a quick change, you finally answered the door, to be greeted by his broad back.  He wore a tank top today, mauve pink of all colors, giving a full show to the power he packed in his arms.  Plus his hair was out of its man bun, showing off its waves, looking so touchable.  His jeans and boots looked like the same ones from the last time you saw him.  You chuckle to yourself over his laziness.

He turned to you like a shampoo commercial with his hands on his hips.  “You put your crap on my bike?”

You crossed your arms and leaned on your frame, shrugging.  “No idea what you’re talking about.

He pulls a cardboard box from beside him with empty water bottles and old cereal boxes.  

“You think it’s funny, playing crap Jenga on my property?”

You rolled your eyes.  “It’s not crap, it’s reusable, remember?  Look, I got your note about recycling.  I just wanted to let you know I am way ahead of you.  My contributions are better than that gas you spew in the air from your bike.”

“Single use plastics are one of the biggest contributors to the destruction of earth’s ecosystems.  Why the hell would you waste money on them anyway?  Get a filter and a steel bottle-”

“Please!  Can you stop telling me what to do like I ain’t grown!  I know how sustainability works, that’s why I’m re-cy-cling!  Now if that’s suddenly a bad to do, I’ll Google that, but you ain’t God here.”

His stare read threatening to you, but you weren’t afraid of him trying you.  He seemed to be the type to not be challenged often and you yourself loved a challenge.  Multitasking the stare down, you memorize his facial features from his shaggy facial hair to the break in his eyebrow from an old scar.  

You work your neck for emphasis.  “Are we done here?”

He scoffs, kicking the box toward you before strolling off.  “Stop using single use plastics.”

“Ok, George of the Jungle!”  You taunt, sending him off with a wave.  Closing your door, you laugh out loud, giving a fist pump to the air.  You won this round whether he acknowledges it or not.  Plus you never heard that engine all day afterwards, catching up on your rest.

--

A couple weekends passed and one hungry morning you realize you’re low on food to eat.  You can’t chill on an empty stomach so you get your stuff to head out to your car.  

The sky was cloudy that day, making you yawn involuntarily as you start your engine.  It sputters, trying to turn over, but won’t kick off.  You tried this four or five more times before you sit back, punching your steering wheel.  Of all days for this to happen, today ain’t it.  

Suddenly the roar of a motorbike distracted you in the distance and a horrible thought passes your brain.  Jason knew his way around a motorbike, so a car shouldn’t be too different, right?

You get out the car and stomp towards the other end of the parking lot where you see you neighbor mounting his motorbike.

“Hey!  Hey!”  You yelled out, waving him down.  He saw and you notice his shoulders jump a little as a smile crawls across his face. You weren’t expecting that reaction.

“I’m gonna be outta your hair, I got my girl fixed up and I’m taking her for a spin.  Continue to catch your beauty sleep, doll,” he says sarcastically.

You look at his bike and gave the tire a kick.  "I'm not worried about that.  Glad you got it up and running."

Jason turned off the engine and scratched his beard, coming to a standing.  "What’s going on?"

You shrug, making Jason laugh hard.

"Now I really know something is up.  This is the first time you are speechless AND the last thing you said was nice? What did you do?"

You tried to fight your attitude because you still needed to ask if he could help you.

"I mean, I still think the bike looks rusty and dusty. Can’t tell it from some junkyard scrap but hey, there’s a pulse!"

Jason pointed at you, clicking his tongue. "And a good morning to you as well."  He kicks on his motor again and begins to move.

"Wait wait!" You shouted.

He turns the bike off again. "Sweetheart, I got little patience."

You groan.  "My car won't start.  I was hoping you could give it a look."

“DO I look like a mechanic?”  he asks, leaning forward on his bike.

You stared at him dumbfounded.  “You literally work on this bike all the time!  No one is doing that shit without some experience!”

“A motorcycle is not a car, ma’am,”  he said.  “Apples and oranges.  Hell, their practically fishes and trees!”

“Do you really wanna insult my intelligence?”

Jason held his hands up in the air.  “I don’t have to do anything when it comes to you.  You come with drama and mess in tow, and I’m tired of hearing it, if we’re being honest.”  He got up from his bike, heading in the opposite direction on you.

A raindrop on your face snapped you back to reality and by the time you looked up the clouds opened up their floodgates.

You covered your head.  “Dammit!  Jason!”   

You ran after him as he continued to stomp on to his place.  “There’s a thing called humility and being a good neighbor and something tells me you haven’t learned that before.”  He stops in the middle of his yard whipping around to face you.  His hair soaked in rain yet maintaining its wave intrigued you.  Most people look like a sad dog in the rain, but the wetness amplified his stoic appeal.

“You’re spoiled,” he says, rain falling off his lips as he enunciated.

“I need help!  That’s all I’m asking!”  

“You don’t ask!  You demand!  You demand I be quiet and play childish games when people call you out.”  His voice became more aggressive with demonstrative movement to emphasize his words.

You clasped your hands together.  “Oh!  Well it looks like you’re just used to doing shit YOUR way, and no one had the BALLS to step to you.  Well I am, so what?”  

You step right under his nose, rain from his body drops in your face.  He looked down at you amused.

“You better run along before you do something you can’t take back,” he warns.

“I don’t have regrets, just learned lessons.  So what you got?”

“What I got?”

“Yeah, what-”

His lips crashed into yours with momentum and strength.  His hands gripped your arms a little too tightly, making your hands splay in a shocked manner, unable to move.  His force mixed with the weather conditions made it hard to breathe and your will to do so causes you to push him back with as much strength as you can.

“What the FUCK WAS THAT?!”  You scream, wiping your mouth to no avail.

He stands there frozen, breathing hard.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“Like hell you don’t!  This the shit I’m saying!”  You gawk at him, seeing his shirt cling to his body as the rain weighs down the fabric.  Jason whipped his hair back unapologetically.  

“I told you.  You’re spoiled.  I don’t kiss your ass, so you’re mad.”

“I don’t remember asking you to kiss me at all, did I?”

He shrugs.  “I didn’t ask you to get in my face and threaten me, yet here we are.  Go dry off,” he says, taking himself back to his place and leaving you in the rain.

--

Later that night, you’re in the midst of finishing up twisting your hair  for the night when you hear the familiar sound of an engine blaring.

You check the time, 12:35 AM.  You’re instantly fuming, twirling a mad finger around your last twist end and putting on your robe.  

Stomping outside, you see him clear as day, outlined by the parking lot lights.  Jason sits on his bike revving it over and over as you walked closer and closer.  You get about 30 feet away from him when he turns the bike off.

“You fucking get on my damn nerves.  I’m sick of this!”  You shout at him.  

He got off his bike, standing with his hands in his pockets.  Soon as you were within arms length, you raise your hand and bring it to the back of his neck, pulling him into you.  You were ready this time, opening up to take hi essence in with your own.  Your fingers clutch the roots of his hair, pulling yourself up to him as much as possible until he helped you.  Wrapping his arms around your waist, he doesn’t miss a beat in your mouth as he lifts you to his level and you wrap your arms around his neck.  You bit his lips, groaning into his mouth excitedly.  

“I told you, I step up if you try me.”  you say.

He licks his wounded lips, eyes heavy with anguish.  “And I can take a hit, if necessary.”

You both stumble back to your place, fighting to feel each other’s skin quicker than you could get undressed.  You let your robe fall off at the door.

Your scratch at the bottom of Jason’s shirt, pulling it up as he surrenders his arms to your tugs, shaking his hair loose once you’ve freed him.

He pulled your hair back roughly, exposing your neck to his tongue grazing the pulse point of your neck.  Your nails dig into his hips as you fight the ticklish sensation, making him groan.

“Watch those claws, kitty,”  he warns, taking liberties with your body. The palms of his hands feel rough against your stomach when he traces your curves up to your breasts.  You breathe erratically, feeling the warm arousal build as your nipples greet his fingertips, but you pushed him back roughly.  As he stumbles, he looks at you defensively.

“Am I moving too fast?”  He asks as his chest rises and falls heavily.  You take your shirt off, standing in just your underwear.  He starts to unbutton his pants…

“Stop!  Don’t.”  You command.

He freezes in mid zipper pull, looking frustrated.  “Look if this ain’t happening, just-”

“Did I say nothing is happening?  I told you to stop.  And it would be good if you just listened, for once,”  you say, dropping your voice lower and quieter.  You walked up to him, moving his hand aside, pushing him against the wall.

“You find me attractive, right?”  You ask as your fingers find his zipper and pull it the rest of the way down.

He keeps his poker face as you stare him down.  “I do.  You’re very sexy.”

As he admits this, your palm slides down his stomach and under his waistband.  Under your touch you feel him grow, making your heart skip.

“Not sexy enough.  You still got some growing up to do I see,”  you reply as you pull his bottoms down, letting his dick recoil from its boundaries.  

Jason exhales sharply, bracing his back against the wall.  “You don’t have to.”

You settle down to your knees, observing the specimen before you, gripping his shaft as you look up at him.  “You don’t want me to?”

His hair framing his face, he pulls it back taking a deep breath.  “You got my dick in your hands, and you think I’m backing down now?”

“Then tell me what you want me to do…”  You say quietly, biting your lip as you watch him while stroking him, blowing slowly along his length, lips puckered and tempting.

He reached for the top of your head gently massaging your scalp.  “I want that big mouth to show me what it can do.”

You smirk, letting your tongue flutter around his tip, warming him up.  You feel his scalp massage slow as your lips softly kiss his member.  His head falls backward as you open your mouth wider, swallowing his girth deeper.  You look up at him, massaging his balls. 

“Oh God, you’re amazing.  Your mouth so soft,”  he moans, looking down at you, jutting his hips towards your face minutely.  

You allow your throat to open a bit more, taking hold of his thighs as he pushes himself into your mouth deeper. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.  Just look at you.”  He pulls out of you, bending down to take you in for a kiss.  He tastes himself within your mouth, fully devouring your mouth in a kiss.  You hold his hands against your face as he embraces you, feeling overwhelmed with passion.

“Fuck me, now.”  You growl into his face, getting up.  He pushes you against the wall he once stood, pulling your underwear down to your ankles, you steady your hands on his wide shoulders.  

He stands up looking you deep into your eyes as you reach for his dick, coaxing him to move on, but he grabs your wrists, setting them on his shoulders.  

“You’re too impatient,”  He says, running his finger across your cheek, nuzzling his nose against yours.  

You exhale.  “Damn right I am.  The one thing we can get along about, you’re trying to postpone.”

He chuckles, feeling between your thighs.  “You’re this wet for me?  You like me more than I thought.”

You roll your eyes, closing them when his fingers fit so easily inside of you, digging your nails into his shoulders.  “Maybe I just like the sex.  Thought of that?”

He shrugs.  “Let’s see what fits and talk later.  Your pink looks real good.”  

He grips his hands under you, lifting you and wrapping your legs around his waist in one movement.

As he holds you, you feel for his dick, helping to guide his tip to your entrance.

“Teamwork, right?”  You gasp as he spreads you wider, pushing himself inside of you.  You exclaim, gripping the back of his neck for dear life.

“Did I hurt you?”  He asks.

You shake your head.  “No, keep going.  I want more.”

He obeys, pushing further inside your walls.  

“That’s it baby, deeper.”  You encourage him, you tighten up around him as your body relaxes to the new sensation.

Jason’s hands travel around your back, holding you close as works his length into you, working his hips like it’s his job.

“Ah, your pussy is so good baby.”  Jason moans in your ears.

“This pussy is good to you cuz that dick.  Give it to me, harder.”

Jason rams his length inside you, holding still as you writhe, repeating the action over and over.

“Yes, oh yes,”  you cry out, feeling tears reach the corners of your eyes, feeling a wave of pleasure creep and spread throughout your body.

Jason pounds your deeper, harder as you cry out, digging into his back, he pulls your mouth to his, kissing you passionately.  

“You take me so well.  I knew you were tough.  Keep cumming, I want all of you on me,”  he says.  You cover his mouth.

“Shut up, or I won’t stop,” you feel your body buckle under the pressure.  It became too much.

Jason opens his mouth, sucking two of your fingers as his pace quickens.

“I’m close baby, hang on.”  Jason cautions, gripping your breasts and he rests into the crook of your neck, giving all of himself into you.

His hand moves between your breasts, tracing your sweat with his lips.  He grunts with a guttural tone, “Looks good.”

“Pull…”  you say weakly between breaths, barely able to think straight.  Your body feels like it’s floating away from you as you hit another orgasm before you feel yourself go empty.  You look down to see Jason jacking against your stomach, strips of white paint your belly as he howls in euphoria.

You notice your heartbeat for the first time, pounding in your chest but you felt no stress.  Your mind is hazy as Jason talks but you can’t fully register what he’s saying.  He holds your face, looking concerned as he picks you up to take you to his bedroom lying you down.

You feel a towel on your stomach as you lay on your back, completely checked out of your surroundings.

“Sure, you can spend the night, no problem.”  Jason says half-jokingly as he crawls to the other side of the bed, pulling a blanket over the both of you.  You feel his hands in your hair, gentle massaging your curls as your eyes close.

The next morning, you wake with a fright, feeling this arm laid across your waist like a boa constrictor.  A snore behind your head makes you nearly jump out of bed.

“Good morning, beautiful,” a gruff sounding Jason stretches, kissing your shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa.  Don’t do that,” you say, sitting up and covering yourself in your section of the blanket.

Jason tousles his hair, moving closer to you.  “Oh no?  I can’t initiate this time?”

You push his face back.  “You can’t initiate ever!  This isn’t a back to back thing, so don’t think you got rights to me.  Where are my clothes?”

You see your drawers, robe and shirt by the front door.  “Can you close your eyes as I get my stuff?”

Jason lays back with his hands behind his head.  “Take the blanket.  I don’t mind my body being out.”

You make a face.  “Ew, just close your eyes and turn your head.”  Jason covers his face like he’s getting ready to play Tag.

You gather your panties, slipping them on.

“You don’t have to run off so fast, we were just getting to know each other better.”  JAson says behind his hands.

You talk through your shirt.  “Bullshit.  Don’t make this bigger than it is.”

Jason drops his hands.  “So there’s nothing to discuss?” 

You shrug your robe on, running your fingers over your twists that are now sexed over and slept on as best you could.  “I’ve already forgotten what we are talking about.”

He nods.  “Well I am glad you got function back to your legs.”  He smiles widely.

You groan.  “Happens all the time, you aren’t special.  And take your trash out, smells like shit in here.”

“That’s just sex in the air, sweetheart.”  Jason waves you goodbye as you flip him off, walking out the door.  When you reach your place, you take a deep breath, feeling the aftermath of last night coursing through your body still.  You felt positively sore, like after a good workout.  It replays in your head over and over; his hands on your body, his deep kisses,  his taste.  You shake your head, trying to free your mind.  No way is he taking up any space in your memory.  It’s over and done.  You take the morning to shower off, somewhat thoughtfully.

The next day you got ready for work, feeling better than you had in a while.  Dick was not the reason, so you thought.  You felt all around more positive until your peace became disturbed.

“No, no, no, NO!”  You yell out.  “It’s not even the fucking weekend!”

You pick up your purse, looking for your keys.  You curse yourself for keeping car keys and house keys separate until you remember you are without a working vehicle.

“FUCK!”  You didn’t want to see, you wouldn’t.  You’ll text your job and tell them what’s up and call a car.  Problem solved.  

You get out of your place, locking the door and notice the hood of your car up and Jason sitting in the front seat.

He turns off the engine, closing the hood, leaning on the car as he looked at you.  “Turns out I know cars after all.”

“Am I supposed to say thank you?  For stealing my keys?”  you say with a sour disposition.

He tosses the keys in the air, catching them.  “You left them at my place.  I thought it was an invitation.”

“None of it was an invitation.  Give them to me.”  You walk up to him with your hand out like a three year old.  When he drops them in your hand, he doesn’t let go.

“Say….”

You tighten your lips for what felt like an eternity until you say, “Thanks!”

He lets go with a smile and walks away.  “I swear I was gonna do it regardless, but you had to initiate so…”

“You kissed me first!”  you shout a little too loudly for a neighborhood.

He looks back winking at you.  “And don’t throw something away that’s reusable.”

Masterlist

[themilky-way]

kinship {loki odinson}

gif credit: go-fandom-imagines

pairing: loki odinson x female! reader

summary: loki never thought that he’d defend, let alone protect, a midgardian. but after seeing you, in your most vulnerable states, he made it his mission to look after you. loosely based on this song. 

warnings: some hints of violence (nothing too graphic), blood, and like one bad word. also when the characters say “kid” to you, it’s nothing age wise it’s just something i feel they’d call you yk.

notes: i’m in my loki feels ya’ll know the drill i just miss this man. also ik some of u ladies don’t have long hair i’m sorry! i’m having a little trouble making the words fit and stuff so please give me tips on how to improve!

the first time it happened was when you were sleeping. he never meant to walk in on your frail body, curled up in a ball in the over sized armchair tony had installed in the common room. your feet were tucked in neatly beneath you, with one hand splayed out across your stomach while the other held a book, your thumb keeping it partially open. your head had lolled down so it could rest on the arm rest, and while at first it had been rather uncomfortable, you let your eyes naturally droop so they could rest. 

it had been the middle of the night, roughly around two in the morning, when loki decided to walk around the tower. he did this every so often, finding some sort of comfort from the peace and quiet the darkness held, but he had never encountered anybody else. he walked down the hall and past every avenger’s room, until he reached the living room. originally, his plan was to stand at the wide glass window the room displayed and simply watch the city lights glitter in all sorts of patterns. after that, he would go to the terrace for a bit, just enough for the sun to come up and the sky to change to warmer colors. but he didn’t do that tonight. why? well, he didn’t really know the answer to that himself. 

when he entered the room, he came across your sleeping form. he noticed the way in which you nestled your body further down the fur of the cushion and curled yourself into your body just a little more to stop goosebumps from forming. you were cold, your body heat not enough to cover the sharp temperatures that reached you. loki, taking note of this, took off his cardigan, and walked over to where you were sleeping. he straightened the delicate fabric before he laid the emerald green sweater over your frame. he tucked it in where he felt it might fall over with a random movement, careful to not dig his fingers in too deeply so it would hurt or startle you. next, he took the liberty to carefully retract the open book from your hand to place it on the coffee table, and then grabbed more of his cardigan so it covered your relaxed hand and tummy. he drew back a few steps, to examine his work. he felt it was mediocre, not as good as it might’ve been if steve or wanda had done it, but it was enough for you to rest. 

loki was not a man who grasped the concept of emotional connections very well. he was someone who didn’t have a feel for intimacy, who despised physical touch, who didn’t know anything about feelings other than hatred or malice. but here he was, peering down at your frail body, in one of its most fragile states that could possibly exist, and felt something. he didn’t know what it was, and he knew he didn’t want to find out, but it would reach him. the feeling, along with the desire, to get to know you in more intricate ways. 

he walked over to the couch a couple of feet to the right of where you were and took a seat, folding his left leg onto the soft, plush seat while the other one remained planted on the marbled floor. he had a view of the window, like he originally planned to study, but he found his attention drifting to another sight. he observed how quietly you breathed, the soft exhales that your nose released every few seconds. after a while, he noticed how your lips parted slightly and began to exhale with it instead. the soft breaths turned louder, and your snores were now evident to him. they weren’t loud, barely even there, and only lasted a minute or two before they returned to regular breathing. 

he also noticed how the hair on top of your head was beginning to disperse from its neat place. the soft, baby hairs that adorned the sides of your forehead lost their place and decided to scavenge for another, and the more you adjusted your head, the more they ruffled. he also saw the way your body slightly trembled from the sudden gusts of wind the air conditioner would send, and how you finally embraced his clothing. it sent a thrill through loki, the thought, the image of you breathing in his scent that lingered on his sweater, how you seemed to like it and do it so mindlessly. it empowered him. and so he stayed there until dawn. 

the next time loki encountered you in a similar state was two weeks later. tony had sent him to fetch you for a mission that was risky, and he had felt bad to include you since you had put in some vacation hours. loki, although he would never openly admit to anyone nor himself, had conducted some research on you since he first saw you. he knew you were stressed, deeply longing some time off to unwind and focus on yourself, and he seemed almost hesitant to follow through with stark’s request. nevertheless, he started his way up to your room, following the route to the elevator, and cutting some sharp corners to finally reach your corridor. as he was strolling down it, however, he caught the hints of different patternized beats and melodies coming from the end of it. he kept his ears perked in case he heard someone else, brows furrowed in confusion, but as he kept his pace and finally reached the outside of your door, he discovered the music was comingfrom you. he felt weird, intruding into your personal space like this, but in his defense, stark had sent him. just before he could reach up and properly knock, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. not sufficient enough for you to see him but enough for him to see you. he watched your body, a little too intently for his liking, flow to the rythmn of the upbeat song. your hands reaching up to run them through your hair while your hips swayed from side to side. your right foot would step out and then you’d bring your left one in, and then did the opposite. 

all in all, it was an innocent dance, you were releasing tension that you were holding in for a while, and you were happy. loki saw that, in your face to be more exact. his eyes first reached your own, which were closed and nowhere near recognizing his broad figure in your doorway. he scanned your nose, how your nostrils would flare harder than usual whenever you released a longer breath. he compared it to when he first saw you sleeping in the common room, and he couldn’t decide which event he liked better. he finally reached your lips, and he had to physically fight his newfound urges and stop himself from busting in and connecting them to his own. they were delicate, soft, and slightly chapped. it was evident that you picked at the skin on your bottom one because he noticed a small red patch on one side of your bottom lip. he couldn’t look away, and he felt awful, thinking of you in such intimate ways while you were unbeknownst of his presence. but what made him almost completely lose his mind was the moment in which you tucked that very same lip, the red, almost raw, portion of it between your teeth. he let his eyes run over the action, and felt an all too familiar emotion grow in the pit of his stomach, one that he never imagined you’d be the one to elicit.

he’d had enough. he’d seen enough. without thinking twice on it, loki barged into your bedroom, steel door hitting the wall with a strong bang, and spoke with authority. 

“stark needs you for a mission. he wants you onboard in ten.” you spun around to face him, a sharp gasp escaping your throat and shocked expression washing over your features. he had to mask his worry and regret of scaring you like this with indifference. he needed to do it like this. he couldn’t risk you turning too far and opening your oh so beautiful eyes only to find him creepily concentrating on you. 

“loki, what the hell,” you breathed. “you fucking scared me!” 

he tried to not let the way you had voiced that get to him. you were startled, frightened, and that mixed with the energy you were dancing with was sure to leave you gasping. but loki had seen you, twice now, in some of your purest forms. so the way you softly huffed his name, even for different reasons, made his mind run wild and his heart jump hurdles. he managed to keep his face stilled, though, and rolled his eyes and told you not to be such a wuss and to shut your music off. you walked over and turned the knob of your stereo down, complying. it took almost every cell in his body to keep from muttering out incoherent apologies, pulling you in close and stroking your ruffled hair. but he didn’t do that. 

“yeah yeah. whatever. can you tell tony that i can’t go? i’m taking some days off and i-”

“he made it clear to me that you’re presence is crucial to the outcome of this mission,” he interrupted, his voice low. you rolled your eyes and started to frantically assemble your go bag, thanking loki for the message. he wanted to stay and watch you do this too, but all he did was let out a hum of acceptance and walk out your door. as he walked through the corridors and seemingly endless turns to leave your dormitory, he replayed everything he saw, and a small smile curved its way onto his own lips. and for the entirety of the next week that you were gone, he kept doing it. 

you, with much reluctance, had hopped on the plane with steve, bucky, tony, and natasha. it was a hard mission, but you had been trained by one of the fiercest assassins that the world ever saw. so, alongside natasha, you fought almost effortlessly. but regardless of how effective you and your team performed, the enemy was also calculated. he managed to trick you into believing he was alone, that he was finishing this fight by himself. but when bucky was holding the sinister man down, he got hit with a strong blow to his shoulder. the metal of the bullet would have clashed against the metal of his own arm, but this bullet, according to the dying words of the man, was made especially for bucky. he was wounded, and tony flew to get him off the field as quickly as he could. natasha took hold of the man and held him down one last time, and as more of his soldiers appeared all around you, you and steve attacked them. you gave your everything, landing nasty blows in every direction. steve threw his shield to pin an adversary to the side of a car as he pinned you down on the ground, and you reached over to take it out of the man and shifted so you were able to see behind you. as soon as you did, you connected the blue and red colored metal to the face of another enemy. the last one. the team, from wherever they were standing, relaxed a little and looked around at all the casualties. tony and natasha had managed to take care of the leader, and steve looked over at you from his protective stance and grinned proudly. but his smile abruptly disappeared when he saw you fall back down. he noticed a small pool of blood collecting around your torso and rushed to your aid. 

“tony, (y/n)’s wounded too! get the jet and get her inside. i’ll get bucky,” steve said hurriedly. tony landed shortly after and told friday to bring the jet down to your coordinates. steve looked down at you and let his hand caress the top of your head lightly before speaking again. “hang in there, kid, we’ll take care of you.” 

you tried to make out his figure leave, and eventually run, to where bucky was lying to bring him aboard. you couldn’t really see him, though, because your vision was beginning to blur and your ears had started to ring. you attempted to keep your eyes open to see tony press a tech device to your wound and you winced, eyes squeezing shut tightly. all at once, you stopped hearing tony’s scrambled words, muscles around your face and body going completely numb. then, you succumbed into full darkness and so did everyone and everything around you.

the next time you opened your eyes, it was to a dimly lit operating room. your visual acuity quickly adjusted as your eyes kept bouncing around the different light bulbs, and then you turned your head to the right. you saw bucky peacefully sleeping, a patch adorning the top of his shoulder and an iv scaling up to the actual bag containing the medicine. you then raised your head a little to see that your clothes had been changed to some medical shorts and an oversized t-shirt. you knew then that it had been wanda who had helped, seeing as the band displayed on the shirt was her favorite. next, you turned to the left, and this time, you saw the back of a male figure. after careful study and concentration, you realized it was bruce. 

“bruce?” you voice came out in a hoarse and cracked whisper. but it was loud enough for bruce to turn around and gleam at you. 

“(y/n)! i see you’re awake, can i get you anything?” he took off his glasses and set them down next to some documents and walked over to you. you nodded weakly and shakily asked for some water, making an effort to get up from the bed but stopped after you felt a sharp pain take over the left side of your abdomen. you winced and let out a painful groan, and bruce instantly took a hold of your arm as his other hand reached around your back to steady you.

“careful, you’re hurt.”

“what happened, exactly?” you wondered, voice starting to come back to normal. by now, you were properly seated along the edge of the bed with your feet unsteadily planted on the ground. once bruce saw that you were stable enough to not fall, he allowed himself to pour water from a pitcher into a glass that had both been on your side table. you took the glass into your shaky hands and brought the rim up to your lips, relishing the hydration it brought to your dry mouth. you swigged it rather quickly, and bruce took it back and set it down before answering your question. 

“well, you were on a mission, from what steve tells me. they brought you and bucky to me as soon as they could. you were stabbed, kiddo. i patched you up and took out your iv about an hour ago.”

your lips parted and let your jaw open a little in a surprised motion. you had a knife, at one point in your fight, plunged into you? you didn’t even feel anything. your head started to throb now that you were fully awake, and you could feel the pain more clearly. 

“you’re strong, you know,” his voice brought you back to him. it was reassuring, gentle, just like you knew bruce was. “all of you guys are.” 

you smiled at him and reached out to touch his hand, and squeezing it lightly. he pulled you into a hug, and you accepted it kindly, acknowledging the help and most importantly the presence of one of your best friends. when you pulled back, he saw you grimace as another shot of pain spread across your abdomen. he asked you if you desired to go to your room, and after you said yes, he was quick in his efforts to completely stand you up and off the bed. his hand was holding one of yours, and the other was on your back like before, but just as you were beginning to walk, another voice spoke. 

“i can take you. if you allow me.” 

your eyes diverted in the direction of the voice it came from, and you landed on a pair of sharp blue orbs. stopping dead in your tracks, you found your mouth becoming dry again. his eyes pierced into your own, and you couldn’t find any word combination that would possibly make sense. you looked at bruce, as did he, and you found yourself nodding. you turned back to see loki all stood up and heading over to where you were standing. since bruce was holding you from the right, loki let his hand slip around your waist on the other side, a few goosebumps forming around your body at the contact. the other hand, reached to take yours in his and held it strongly. you started walking again, at first slowly, but once you got the hang of your own legs again, it became much easier for the both of you.

the walk to your room was silent, but not awkward. he grip on your waist was sturdy, but gentle and whenever you let out huffs of pain, he would stop and allow you to rest for a while. eventually, you reached your door, and he let go of your hand to open it. 

“may i?” loki inquired. you simply nodded again, and he led you in. when you saw the arrangement of pillows and blankets that awaited your arrival, it took you aback. you looked at him before asking, “did you do this?”

he stared at you for a few seconds, enough time for you to feel butterflies crawling around, and nodded.

during your entire stay at the tower, you couldn’t really deny the way you saw loki. it wasn’t anything deep, just a simple, growing attraction towards him. when you first arrived, loki was being detained after literally destroying the entire city, so his attitude towards you was hostile. but you found him handsome, despite his rude behavior, and his snappy comments and witty banter made the emotion within you much stronger. over time, you tried your best to be nice to him, to really get to know him unlike the majority of your team. no matter how many times loki shut you out of his life, you didn’t take it personal and continued to be your happy and cheery self when you saw him. 

over time, loki stopped fighting to keep you out, and he switched from being rude to acting annoyed. you viewed this as a win and didn’t delve too much into far more personal problems to keep him from shutting you out again. despite you promptly sticking to this ideology, you couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t speak to you as often as he did these past few weeks. it was strange, but then again, it’s loki, you thought.

god, but now, he does this? watches you for who knows how long while you’re in the middle of a drug-induced trance? offers to take you to your room, which apparently he’s arranged to fit your commodity, and holds you so perfectly? it’s all too much for you, the way he makes you feel, but even though you try to push the thought away, it bombards once more. 

one of your legs gives out, and you almost, almost fall to the ground. his free hand reached over to grab the other side of your hip to hold you, tightly squeezing the soft muscle that was there. he stilled, watching you intently to see if you were alright and looking for any signs of severe pain. you felt his gaze on you, but you didn’t look up, fully knowing that if you did, you’d give out again. instead, you looked down at your oversized clothes and focused on the design.

“let me get you to bed, so you can rest. can i do that?” his tone was caring, nursing even. his voice was silky, intoxicating your senses more than you liked. you wanted him to talk forever and listen to him rant about endless topics that were running through his mind. but right now your well being prevented you from doing that so you simply muttered, “please.”

he moved so he was behind you, his hands moving along the fabric of your clothes so they didn’t separate from your waist. he pushed you gently and guided you to your side of the bed, eventually letting his hands slide off gradually from your sides as you sat. you missed his touch as soon as it left. and he missed touching you.

as you scooted up so your head could lay on the soft, cushioned pillow, loki removed some other ones that he deemed unnecessary to your comfort. then, he grabbed the folded blanket he placed at the foot of the bed and unfolded it over you. immediately you nuzzled into it and took in the scent that it gave off, and you could’ve sworn that you recognized it. loki noticed it, and he let his mind wander to the night he took care of you sleeping, how you’d done the same exact thing to the smell of his cardigan. it sent him into a frenzy, stomach erupting into fluttering butterflies, hands turning clammy, and pinkish heat coloring his cheeks. how was it possible, he thought, that you made him feel like this. he didn’t notice how long he had observed you for, his eyes raking up your body and wishing nothing more than to embrace it once and for all. to feel the warmth of your hugs, and to ease your pain, even if it would be for a brief moment. his eyes continued traveling up towards you face, and when he finally reached your eyes, he found yours already looking at him. 

“you can take a seat over there if you’d like?” you questioned him. you nudged with your head at a sofa that was behind him, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked back to look at it. he turned back around and asked, “you want me to stay?”

“yeah, i kinda do. you don’t have to obviously,” you stopped mid sentence as a new wave of pain rushed through, grimacing. as it passed, you continued, “but it’d be nice.”

of course he was going to stay. he knew he didn’t have to, but he wanted to. he wanted to take care of you, nurse you in every possible way he could so you could dance animatedly again. so you could fall asleep in the common room, reading your favorite novel and cuddle his sweater. and he wanted you. so without much hesitation this time, he offered you a warm, kind smile and made his way to the sofa and settled in. you, on the other hand, adjusted so your legs were folded but your back was still on the bed to avoid hurting yourself. it was an uncomfortable position, but you weren’t one to complain. you stayed there looking at the ceiling and counted the little glow in the dark stars that tony had glued for you. all the while you could feel a strong gaze look at you, but you were too afraid to say something or even look over. about ten minutes passed with utter silence, the sounds of breaths being exhaled exempt. 

“you could’ve died.” 

“we all could’ve.”

“yes, but you could’ve died.” he regretted enhancing the word as soon as he spoke it. had he said too much? gone too far? he saw you shift your focus from the stars to his face, confusion written all over it. he didn’t look away, though, as embarrassing as it was for him.

“i thought you didn’t like me,” you remarked. loki scoffed and rolled his eyes before returning them toward you. “this has nothing to do with liking you, human.”

you chuckled at this, the rumbling of your chest sending another low shot of pain. “then what does it have to do with?”

he turned away and focused on your tiny bookshelf in the corner of your dorm instead. “taking care of you,” he answered faintly. at this, you’re features relaxed. the smallest smile began to tug at your lips, eyes beginning to sparkle with some sort of affection towards the god.

“ah, so you like me.” 

loki laughed lightly at your reply, but mostly to hide the nervousness his voice might convey if he spoke. he found it stunning; how you effortlessly made him feel worthy of kinship. another, shorter, ripple of silence took over, but you were the one to break it this time. 

“can you take care of me?” the words hit him like a punch in the stomach, and almost instantly his mind started running wild once more. every phrase that appeared to be coherent was not anymore. he looked at you, thinking about how innocently you had voiced your words, how genuine you felt them. 

“loki?”

“hm?” he pretended not to have heard you, pretended to be lost in some other thought that wasn’t you. 

“can you stay here tonight?” 

never in his life did loki imagine he’d be watching over an injured midgardian. he also never imagined for them to be you. “of course, i don’t mind,” he swiftly responded. he mentally scolded himself for answering so fast and at how needy he probably sounded. nevertheless, any thought of embarrassment disappeared from his mind when you wholeheartedly smiled at him. you thanked him, and let your eyes close naturally. your head had relaxed completely against the pillow and your arms were entangled in the fuzzy blanket. you spoke, for one last time that night, and groggily whimpered, “g’night, loki.”

for the third time, loki was studying yet another one of your most vulnerable forms. it left him at ease knowing that nothing could ever harm you as long as he was there. and he was starting to realize in much greater depth, that there was nothing in this broken world that he wouldn’t do for you. to make you happy; to keep you safe. when he finally replied, it was mainly for him to hear it only.

“g’night, (y/n).”

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [16]

Masterlist

~^*^~

~^nine months later^~

After you had buried Zoe, and you and Jack had tasked Renfield with properly disposing of Dracula’s body, moving on became a difficult task in London. It seemed that Lucy lurked around every corner and whenever you went off to work, you’d somehow find yourself looking amongst the towers of concrete and finding the window that once belonged to the undead Count.

The temperature dipped. Christmas came and went and when it felt like the year only dragged on, despite moving into a new decade, you decided in unison to move back up north. Instead of going back to Whitby, where even more memories of the vampire tainted almost every street, you decided to move to that secret haven you had visited so long ago.

Nine months down the line, Robin Hood’s Bay was in the climax of its tourist season. July was blessing the northern coastline with an abundance of hot days and blue skies and both Jack and yourself had secured jobs.

After the trauma of your dealings with the vampire, you both decided to hand your notices in at the Foundation and find more domesticated lives. They suited you well. Talking to normal humans, leading normal lives - it suited you both so well. You had grown much closer in this time. Jack had learnt to forgive you after Lucy’s death; you had grieved for the vampire man that had stolen your heart and had moved on.

Things were finally no longer dark. Life regained its magnificent colours.

Walking along the beach, parallel to the rolling waves, your hand brushed against his - an innocent mistake. The cooling breeze soothed your skin where the sun beat down. You looked left, taking in the sight of the families far out in the rock pools with their neon nets, most likely looking for little sea creatures to fish out to inspect. Every now and again, a small child would squeal in excitement at finding a dead crab and their father would laugh and explain that it had been eaten by the birds who had left behind the shell.

You then looked right, a soft and loving smile came upon your face. Jack wasn’t paying much attention. He was looking ahead (most likely at the two dogs currently racing for the tennis ball their owner had just thrown). To say that you were surprised at your sudden budding feelings for your old friend would be a huge understatement. You had come to appreciate him for all that he was - plus you suspected that living together (platonically, of course) had something to do with it.

Jack had somehow become your home. He was the only person who could truly say ‘I know what you’re going through’ and mean it. Something about having such an intimate secret with him seemed to tie your bond ever closer.

The walk on the beach lasted a little longer, before you silently agreed it was time to head back. There would be an influx of tourists soon and you definitley didn’t want to try and battle for somewhere to sit on the sand. Besides, standing up at the top of the cliffs gave a beautiful view of the sea.

Robin Hood’s Bay was infamous for its steep hill winding up from the beach to the top of the cliffs. It was hard to walk down without feeling like you were about to topple over and roll the rest of the way down, and it was even more painful trying to get back up. There was a searing pain in your thighs as you took broad steps to try and scale the monster quicker.

You could hear Jack’s laughter behind you at the ridiculousness of your walk, but you ignored him. Hopefully living here would soon provide you with thighs of steel.

The feeling of victory that overcame you when you reached the top was worth every second of torture working up that hill in the heat. You turned to see Jack a few metres away. He grinned up at you and when he made it to your side, he was gently panting.

“Well, let’s agree to never climb that damn hill in the middle of one of the hottest days again.”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna dive off the cliff and take a quick swim after that.” You joked.

“Let’s get going. I could do with some lunch.”

Slowly walking, you made your way back to your small shared cottage. It was cool inside. You took your seat at the dining table, eyeing your leather sofa with disgust. You knew that you’d stick to it if you went anywhere near it.

As he made himself a little lunch, Jack flicked on the TV in the living room and turned it up so that you could both hear from in the kitchen. The afternoon news was just beginning. It was the usual political issues, a virus outbreak in Southeast Asia, another tragic stabbing in London.

“A body was recovered from the Thames river two hours ago after tourists spotted a floating figure in the middle of the water just south of the Millenium Bridge. Scotland Yard have just released a statement in the last few moments confirming that the cause of death appears to be the same as those deaths reported last autumn in Whitby and in London.”

You looked at Jack. He had frozen halfway through buttering his second round of bread.

“CCTV footage shows a man, as you can see, and the police are urging for anyone with information on the suspect to call the number on the screen.”

You leapt up, rushing into the living room with Jack hot on your tail. The image was blurry but you knew that face anywhere. Dear Lord, couldn’t he have been bothered to dress a little differently than usual?

“The lawyer?” Jack breathed.

“Since when did Dracula drink his blood?”

That was the first time you had uttered his name in nine months and you’d be lying if you said that speaking it didn’t spark a little pain in your chest. You missed him so much. You expected a text message or a phone call every day, until you reminded yourself that you had changed your number. Even if by some miracle he was still out there, you’d probably never see the vampire again.

That was how it needed to be. You needed to be safe.

Your mind began to wonder. Had Dracula been drinking his blood back in London? And if so, had it simply taken this long for him to turn? Dracula’s finest bride, it seemed, would never be seen by its creator. You knew there was more to that lawyer’s loyalty than just contractual.

“Thank god we aren’t in London, huh?” Jack mumbled and made his way back to finish constructing his sandwich.

“Yeah...”

You trudged back to your own seat, beginning to rearrange the flowers that day in the middle of the table.

That night, you seemed to have a fever dream. A hot, burning fire, and between the flames, a tall figure. It seemed unharmed by the licks the fire gave it and as you reached forwards, the orange forms split to make way for your appendage. Before you could make contact, it whispered your name in a distorted voice. It sounded somewhat familiar. ‘[First]...’ it hissed as if imitating the sound of the fire, ‘where are you, [First]?’

You tossed and turned as the dream began to die away and you spent the rest of the night in a dreamless darkness. The next morning, the dream lingered in your mind. When Jack promoted you to confide in him, you opted not to tell him. It wasn’t like any of it mattered.

He didn’t press too much on it, but decided that he wanted to try and cheer you up.

“Why don’t we go into Whitby for the day?” He suggested, “only if you’re ready, of course.” He quickly added before shoving another spoonful of cornflakes into his mouth.

You thought about it. You hadn’t been to Whitby in nine whole months. Truth be told, you missed it. But you couldn’t decide if that was because you also missed Dracula. You scoffed. You had to be the only person to have grieved for a vampire. Except for maybe Mina Murray - but she didn’t count because her fiancé had been human for most of the time she knew him. Dracula had always been a vampire since the moment you had met him.

“Nah, it was a stupid idea, right.” Jack supposed your scoff was of disbelief that he’d suggest something so utterly stupid.

“No, I think we should go. I’d like to watch the boats.”

Jack watched as an absent-minded smile took hold of your lips as you thought about the harbour.

Well, two hours later and you were sitting by the bandstand, facing away from the structure as you looked out to sea. The pirate ship that took tourists out to sea a little and back again was coming back into the harbour. Some children not too far away from you excitedly jumped and waved and the pirate steering the ship waved back.

It was comforting to hear the whirl of music from the arcades, to get a whiff of both Whitby’s famous The Magpie and Quayside fish and chips, to see the lighthouse, and of course, to look over and up at the abbey.

Oh, how you had missed it here.

“Should we go over the bridge? I’ll buy you a sugar dummy.” Jack offered.

“Sure, why not?” You shrugged and swung your legs over the bench to turn and stand.

You froze.

Standing across the road, outside of the RNLI centre was him. Your jaw dropped. You had to be hallucinating. It couldn’t be! The yellow tourbus whizzed past and when it revealed that side of the road again, he was no longer there.

“[First]?” Jack broke your absolute disbelief, “you alright?”

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