#I wanna slap more metal things on it since at the moment it's only got big spikes on the collar where the clasps used to be

[solradguy]

I got matte leather finish the other day so I can finally tone down my red leather jacket so it's not glossier than a friggin freshly waxed sports car anymore lol I've been putting off customizing it further until I did something about that gloss. Though, it's been cold/snowy lately and it's warmer than my black jacket despite being very slightly shorter... Dunno when I'll be able to put the finish on it (don't wanna freeze my ass off going outside in my black jacket)

[sluts4matt]

chris fucking the silent treatment out of you?! like hello?! need it rnnnnn

SILENT TREATMENT

pairing: dom!chris x latina!reader

summary: you were known to be a bit petty, so giving your boyfriend the silent treatment wasn't out of your comfort zone. chis, however, decides he can't go more than a day without hearing your voice. no matter the way he's hearing it.

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (female receiving), spanking, slight choking, praising, pet names

word count: 978

author's note: might honestly be one of my favorites. class project is all time at the moment though. i hope i did your request justice. don't be afraid to request more 🫶

"really, we're still doing this shit ma?" chris asks, walking into his bathroom as you were doing your skin care. you looked at him, pressing your lips in a thin line before going back to your face. "oh c'mon, i apologized already."

you didn't respond, only continuing to lather your face with a cleanser. chris rolled his eyes, watching you through the mirror. you were supposed to have a small date, nothing too big. he promised since he had been busy recently.

but once again, he had to cancel because he was needed at the warehouse. it was a stupid reason not to be talking to chris. you knew that nick told you that last night. but you didn't care.

chris huffed, "so what, i can't do anything to get you to talk to me again?"

you put down the product in your hand, turning to look at him. chris' face brightened up, expecting a response. but fell again when you pushed past him to grab a rag from the rack.

he shook his head, "so you're gonna keep playing like this? not responding or looking at me." again, no answer. you were going to continue your routine as if he wasn't in the room with you.

"no fucking way," chris said, grabbing you by the wrist and spinning you around. "stop being a brat and talk to me ma, wanna hear that pretty fucking voice," he says, bringing your hand up to his mouth.

he places a kiss on your wrist, keeping his eyes on yours. you swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to remain unbothered. "really, no words?" he questions. you shake your head, moving your hand back.

"that's okay, i got ways to make you speak," he smirks. next thing you know you were being turned around, and your pajama pants and underwear were being tugged down. your heart dropped, and your legs were pressed together.

chris' hands gripped your hips, pushing you against the sink. "spread for me, ma," he says, slapping the inside of your thigh.

you did as you were told, biting your lip to silence yourself. his hands gripped your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands as he stood behind you. one of his hands worked at his sweats while the other pushed your cheek against the cool, marble counter top.

your ass was in the air, and chris was admiring the view. "i know you got a voice in there, so don't hold back on me baby," he says, lining his cock up to your pussy. the tip nudged your clit, causing you to shudder.

one of your arms goes near your mouth, you teeth latching onto the flesh as he pushes himself in, stretching you out. "shit, so fuckin' tight for me," chris grunts, bottoming out. his pelvis was pressed against your ass, his body was leaning over yours.

"don't even need lube for you, huh?" he chuckled mockingly, "always so fucking wet for me," he adds. his hand reaches for your hair, fisting it before yanking your head up.

you gasp at the pain, feeling his tip push further into you. "now, let me hear that voice," he growls, pulling out and slamming back into you. you shake your head the best you can as you bite down on your lips. the familiar metallic taste filling your senses.

"so, that's how it's gonna be," chris chuckles, "okay." his hips begin to pick up the pace, his other hand digging into the skin of your left leg as he lifts it onto the counter. the new angle having him hit a different part of you that hasn't been hit before.

a muffled moan slips through, but chris still caught it. "there she is," he grins, pulling your hair more as his hips slap against your ass. the lewd sound of his hips meeting yours along with the squelch of your pussy fills the room.

his hand that was holding your leg leaves, landing a hard slap on your ass. the sudden sting made you cry out. "sound so pretty," chris praised, "let me hear it all, ma."

with a nod of your head, he begins to pound into you, making your head bounce as he slams his cock into you. your eyes begin to water, the pleasure and pain mixing together. "fuck, fuck so good," you babble, feeling the familiar coil in your stomach.

chris chuckles, "look so pretty, taking my cock like this. think you can take it harder baby?" he asks, and you quickly nod. his grip on your hair loosens, and his other hand grabs your shoulder as his hips begin to snap against yours harder than before.

tears streamed down your cheeks as you cried out, nothing but loud whines and pornographic moans leaving your lips. his grip was sure to leave bruises, and your scalp was throbbing.

the coil was becoming too much, and you felt yourself coming undone. "c-chris," you cry, "i'm cumming, shit i'm cumming." the words left your lips in a babble, your cunt clenching around him. "cum on my dick, baby. fuck yes," he grunts, his hips never faltering.

your body went limp in his hold, you eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open. he fucked you through the orgasm, his own not far behind. a few more thrusts and he was pulling out, stroking his dick as he released on your ass.

your knees buckled, but his arm held you up. "gonna talk to me now, ma?" he breathed, his chest heaving as the two of you caught your breath. you nodded your head, a smile tugging on your lips.

"good, let's go get you cleaned up," he says, spinning around and lifting you up. you wrapped your legs around his waist, your head resting on his shoulder as he carried you to the shower.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @lily-strnlo @etvar12 @iloveurgf @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @mayhem-72 @nicksmainbitch @sturniolowhore

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Go Before You Say Goodbye

Summary: Dean tells Y/N to go. Sam tells Y/N Dean wants her to stay. Who will she listen to, or should she just listen to her heart?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Implied smut. Smut. Kissing. Necking! 😉Over the clothes rubbing. Angst! Dean being an ass. Sad Dean.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 3,357

A/N: I got a request from @agirlwithanpureheart for a fic, where Mary's return into Dean's life complicates things between him and Y/N. So, this was what I came up with, I hope it’s what you were looking for, sweetie! I know this was a request you wanted for your birthday, so I'm so sorry it took me a couple weeks to get it to you! Hope ya like it! 💓

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N!" Dean shouted back at her as he walked down the hall toward his bedroom.

"I've told you three times in the span of an hour, there's nothing wrong, and there's nothing to talk about."

Y/N followed after him, refusing to believe him.

He opened his bedroom door and turned back to her as he stood in the doorway. "The only thing bothering me right now is the fact that you won't fucking drop this!"

He slammed the door in her face, but she just slammed it back open, banging it against the table and chairs that sat behind it.

"Dean, you have been a total asshole for the last four days. Ever since I got back from that rugaru hunt in Brisbane."

Dean kept his back turned to her, staring at the weapons on his wall.

"Are you pissed I went on my own? I told you I wasn't alone, I met an old friend there and she and I hunted the thing together. I was perfectly safe.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and turned back to face her.

"You can do whatever the hell you want, hunt whatever you want, with whoever you want. Come, go, whatever! It's none of my business and I don't care."

Y/N rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah, right, you seem great with everything."

Dean's face was hard. "Look, Y/N just cause we started fucking each other regularly doesn't mean I think I have some kinda claim on you, okay? I know it doesn't mean anything, and you're gonna go do whatever the fuck you want to anyway."

Y/N reeled back like he slapped her. "What is the matter with you?" She said quietly, then louder, "Why do you get like this?"

Dean dropped his arms to his sides and advanced toward her. "I don't 'get' like anything. This is just who I am, sweetheart and if you don't like it..." he gestured to the open door.

Y/N stared at him for a moment before she asked a question she was dreading the answer to.

"Do you want me to leave?"

Dean's green eyes glittered darkly, his cold anger obvious. "When has it ever mattered what I want?"

His jaw was clenched tightly. His voice was quiet now, but it was like ice. "If you wanna go, just fucking go."

When Y/N stayed silent, he advanced on her again and shouted in her face, making her flinch.

"Go!"

Despite the fact that they were in his room, Dean was the one who stormed out. A few minutes later, as Y/N still stood silent in his bedroom, she heard the slam of the heavy, metal bunker door.

Slowly she made her way down the hall to her room and closed the door quietly behind her.

She grabbed her backpack and threw her pitiful amount of clothes into it. She grabbed the one or two books she owned, her deodorant, and hairbrush, tossed them all in the bag and zipped it up.

She left a note on her dresser, saying thank you to the boys and telling them to be safe.

And telling them goodbye.

***

Y/N sat at the table, cleaning her weapons and listening to the sirens scream outside the motel window. After life in the quiet, soundproof bunker, motels were hard to get used to again. In the two weeks she'd been away she'd barely slept more than a few hours a night.

Of course that wasn't all the fault of lumpy motel mattresses and drunken fights outside her window. She missed having Dean's hard, warm body pressed close against her, missed the reassuring weight of his arm around her waist.

She missed the way he'd wake her from a nightmare and kiss away the terror; how he'd stare into her eyes as he moved his body against hers, letting her know without words that she was safe, that he wouldn't let the monsters come.

She missed his cheeky grin and silly sense of humor. She missed hearing her name on his lips, and the way he'd find excuses to touch her, pushing her hair off her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple or massaging her shoulders as she sat slumped in a library chair.

She missed everything about him.

But she couldn't very well stay with someone who thought so little of her, who saw their nights of passion and connection as nothing more than "fucking each other regularly". She'd obviously started to annoy him, worn out her welcome. So no matter how much she missed him, she resisted pressing his name in her phone and calling him up.

She had to have more pride than that.

She put away her weapons just as there was a knock at her door. She ignored the little leap in her heart. It was probably someone who had the wrong room.

She sighed as she looked out of the peephole and saw it was Sam. She knew she had to let him in; she wanted to let him, she missed him too, but she wasn't ready for this conversation.

She unlocked the deadbolt anyway and swung the door open.

"Hey Sam."

"Y/N, hey! Can I come in?"

"Why?" Y/N asked, with a gentle smile.

"I miss you and...he..." Sam frowned. "...he misses you. So much. I just need to talk to you for five minutes."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Sam; it's not going to accomplish anything...the fact that it's you here and not him is kind of proof that - "

"Please!" Sam cut her off. "Please, Y/N, just five minutes." He gave her his very best puppy dog eyes and she groaned.

"Five minutes." She agreed as she walked away from the door.

Y/N grabbed a beer from the fridge and offered one to Sam, but he waved it away.

"No, I'm good."

Y/N leaned back against the table and took a sip before she put her free hand in her pocket and shrugged. "Okay, go."

Sam took a deep breath. "Dean is a mess. I mean, he's Dean, so it wouldn't be obvious to just anyone, but I see it."

Y/N shook her head. "Sam, he told me to get out. Said he didn't care what I did."

Sam was nodding. "I know that, but he didn't mean it."

Y/N scoffed. "Really? Cause the days and days he spent shutting me out and refusing to talk to me, barely saying two words and..."

Y/N stopped herself before mentioning to Sam that Dean had even rejected her when she tried to kiss him the night before she left. She thought that at least physically they'd still be able to connect and maybe she could reach him that way. But Dean had pushed her hands away and told her he was too tired.

That had hurt more than anything. Dean didn't always communicate well, she knew that, so she'd come to rely on his non-verbal ways of telling her he cared. The way he was with her in bed, the way he always reached for her, always eagerly pulled her close when she reached for him - it had shown her how much she meant to him, how happy he was that she was there.

But obviously that happiness and interest had worn out.

She shrugged at Sam. "Suffice it to say he spent quite a few days convincing me he was fine with me leaving."

Sam was shaking his head. "No, but he wasn't, he isn't. He..." Sam let out a frustrated breath and ran a big hand down his face before pushing his long hair back with both hands.

He reached out to her, imploringly, desperate to make her understand.

"Dean...he expects everyone to leave him."

Y/N scoffed again, rolling her eyes. "Well, when he acts like that, yeah, what does he expect."

"No. You don't understand. He acts like that because he's sure everyone is going to leave at some point. And he thinks that way because...well, because pretty much everyone has."

Y/N frowned and Sam shrugged. "Even I have, a couple of times."

"Look," Sam continued, "you know that we both got into this when we were really young, but you don't know that my Dad would take off for weeks at a time sometimes. And it would just be Dean, just twelve-year-old Dean taking care of his eight year old brother, with no idea when Dad was going to be back."

Y/N's eyes widened. "Jesus! I knew he took care of you sometimes, but he never told me that's what it was like."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, well. He tends to put our Dad on a pedestal, so I don't think he likes to think about the mistakes he made, or just how abandoned by him he felt, growing up."

Sam shrugged. "Then I fucked off to Stanford first chance I got."

He smiled ruefully. "And look, I still think I made the right decision for me, and I'm glad I went, but...it was still really hard on Dean, I know that."

Sam began ticking things off on his fingers, "Then the first girl Dean ever loved? He told her about who he was, about what we do, and she broke up with him. Dad died and left him, I fucked up and picked a demon over him, Cas lied to him, betrayed him and left, and then I..."

He hung his head. "I left him in Purgatory. I mean, I didn't know he was there, but...I also didn't try to know. I didn't look for him." He was quiet a minute. "I'll regret that every day for the rest of my life."

He looked back at Y/N. "He's forgiven me, I know, but that feeling...that feeling of being left behind by someone he loves, it's still there inside him, I know it."

Y/N felt her heart grow heavier and heavier with every fact Sam was giving her. Dammit, why hadn't Dean told her any of this stuff himself?

But of course, he didn't tell her because it probably wasn't clear in his own mind, and since when did Dean communicate his feelings and fears? She felt like hugging him and strangling him at the same time.

"And now," Sam continued, "with Mom taking off the way she did, it's even - "

"What?" Y/N asked, completely confused. "What do you mean, she took off? Dean said she was on a hunt. When I came back from the rugaru hunt and asked where she was, he said she was hunting."

Sam shrugged. "Well, she might be. But no, she's not coming back to the bunker. She told us..." Sam swallowed hard and Y/N knew this was something that had hurt him too.

"She told us it was too hard for her to see us as grown men because we remind her of everything she missed out on. And..." he shrugged again. "I mean, I get it. I understand, but...she's still gone. You know? Dean still had yet another person he loves decide that he wasn't enough to stick around for. And I know...I mean, I know that it just ripped his heart out.

So then, when you took off for that hunt, and just sent a quick text saying you were gone, I think he just freaked, panicked, you know? I think he saw you walking out too."

Sam shook his head. "When he was being an asshole, and I know he was being an asshole, he was just pushing you away so you'd leave on his terms, so you wouldn't be another person he loves, choosing to walk away from him."

Sam smiled gently. "And Y/N, you are someone he loves."

Y/N smiled a teary smile. "Thank you, Sam. Thank you for telling me all this. But I still don't know if Dean is interested in me coming back. Whatever his motivations for pushing me away, he did still want me to leave."

Sam shook his head, adamant. "No, Y/N, he wanted you to stay. Don't you see? He wanted you to defy him and stay anyway."

Y/N shook her head in exasperation.

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, he's not an easy guy to love, my brother. He's gonna make you nuts, I speak from experience. I don't envy you if you decide to go back but," he stared at her earnestly, "will you go back?"

Y/N closed her eyes and all her own fears and worries came up, was she strong enough to withstand Dean's own self-destructive nature? Could she stay even when he told her to go?

In that moment, Dean's face flashed into her mind's eye, laughing and flashing her his warm smile and she knew she had to try. She wanted to give him a reason to smile like that more often.

She nodded. "Okay, Sam, I'll go."

***

Y/N pulled the heavy metal door shut behind her and started down the bunker steps, but stopped when she saw Dean standing on the third step up.

He had his big green duffel bag slung over his shoulder and he wore an expression of shock that faded quickly to a frown.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" He asked softly, his voice deep and husky. Y/N had missed the sound of it so much.

Y/N raised her chin. "I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole and I absolutely refuse to let you force me to hurt you."

Dean frowned at her. "I was with you for the asshole part, but after that, you lost me."

Y/N sighed and pointed to the duffel bag. "Where are you going?"

Dean stared up at her, his green eyes intense. "I was coming to find you and tell you that I'm an asshole."

Y/N gave a teary laugh. "Well, we agree then."

Dean dropped his duffel bag and took the stairs two at a time to get to her. He stopped two steps below her and pulled her mouth down to his.

He kissed her deeply, roughly, desperately.

He looped his folded arms around her thighs and carried her to the top of the stairs. Y/N laughed breathlessly as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, relishing the silky feel of his tongue running along hers.

Dean pressed her against the closed door, letting her feet touch the ground again without taking his mouth from hers.

When he finally did break the kiss, allowing Y/N to take in some much needed oxygen, he simply moved his plump lips to the hinge of her jaw and nibbled there.

His nose rubbed gently behind her ear and made her shiver.

"Dean." She groaned, knowing that there were actual things that needed to be said.

He squeezed her waist and pulled her against him as he moved in to kiss her again, sucking on her top lip and effectively silencing her except for a deep moan.

He trailed kisses down her neck next, sucking bruises into her skin and making her dig her nails into his tricep muscles.

She let her head fall back against the door with a thump as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and pushed his hand up under her t-shirt to thumb her nipple through the lace of her bra.

He pushed her t-shirt all the way up and started to place kisses along the top of her bra when Y/N finally pushed him away with a desperate moan.

"No, stop. We have to talk."

Dean let her t-shirt drop back into place, but he put both hands on either side of her, braced against the door, and spoke low into her ear.

"But this is so much more fun than talking." He moved his left hand between her legs, cupping her through her jeans. "Let me show how very sorry I am."

He pressed his fingers in tight circles against her and she knew he could feel her soaking through her jeans. "See, I can make it up to you."

Y/N was panting now, but she held her ground. "You can make it up to me, by talking to me first." She ground down against his hand and groaned. "Then I am all on board for this part."

Dean pulled his hands away from her and dropped his forehead against hers before banging his fists softly against the door and pushing away.

He turned and walked forward to look out over the war room and the library, before leaning down and resting his arms on the railing. He dropped his head and sighed.

"Okay, sweetheart, here's what I was coming to tell you. I was an asshole. I'm sorry I pushed you away when you tried to kiss me, believe me I didn't want to. There's never a time that I don't want to be kissing you.

You asked me why I get that way, but the truth is, I have no idea. I don't know why I push people away like that, why I get so angry. I wanted you to stay, I want you to stay now. But..."

Y/N walked up to stand beside him at the railing, leaning back against it and turning her head to look at his clenched jaw and deep frown.

"But," he continued, "but I don't know why you would."

Y/N shook her head. "Well, that one I can answer for you, easy. I'm here and I'm staying because I love you, Dean."

His head snapped toward her and his expression showed fear. She ran her hand down his stubbled cheek and she placed a featherlight kiss on his lips.

"And I love you because you're the strongest man I know, you're the best man I know. I love you because you won't quit, you won't quit on the world, and you won't quit on the people you love. I love you because you're loyal and generous and so very good."

Dean was shaking his head now, his expression saying he thought she was nuts.

Y/N was terrified to ask her next question, but she needed to know. "Do you love me, Dean?"

His face fell into a blank mask, and Y/N couldn't read what he was thinking at all.

The silence was killing her, but finally he took in a deep breath and let it out in one short burst. "Yes." He shook his head. "God help you, but yes, Y/N. I love you so much."

His eyes sparkled with unshed tears and he straightened up and turned away from her. But she walked around him so that she was facing him again.

"Please listen to me. I need you to hear me. And if you say you love me, then I need you to believe me."

Dean's face was pained, the little crease was there between his eyes as he frowned at her. His mouth was tight and his breathing was shallow, but he was listening.

"Dean Winchester, I love you. I will not leave you unless you tell me to go. Please, don't tell me to go. I want to spend my life with you. I choose you. I will always choose you."

She reached up to thumb away the tear that fell down his cheek. "I promise all of this to you. And if you love me, you must believe I'm trustworthy. So, trust in me."

After a moment of staring into her eyes, Dean cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, like he was sealing a pact.

"Okay, Y/N. I trust you."

He kissed her eyelid. "I believe you."

Her other eyelid. "I love you."

The he brushed his lips across hers, open mouthed and warm. "And I choose you too."

Y/N reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. She smiled warm and loving.

"In that case, you may carry on where you left off."

Dean let out a low chuckle and lowered them both to the marble floor. "I have a lot to make up for. It might take a while."

Their laughter rang out through the bunker and Y/N was so happy to be home.

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[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (cnc), dom/sub relationship, ‘mistress’ title, pain kink, cockwarming, orgasm denial/control, use of a cockring, slapping, objectification/degradation, some angst and hurt/comfort, crying after sex, touchstarved!bucky

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

"And you can promise complete and total discretion?” the deep and husky voice on the other end of the line repeated, low enough that it was almost a whisper.

You laughed a little. “Of course,” you answered. Most clients were serious about privacy, but this guy was next level. He must be famous, you thought to yourself, or married. Or both.

But just as much as your clients wanted to keep you separate from their personal life, you would rather they know nothing about who you are. Of course it was always a risk, since nobody could hide their face and you had to work out of your apartment, but you did what you could to keep your job just that— a job.

You told your friends you were a consultant, because people didn’t question that. Sure, it was hard to keep up the lie sometimes when you got last-minute bookings and had to cancel plans, but it was worth it for the money these men were willing to pay.

And this new guy? He was shelling out all kinds of cash, on a long set of conditions. Including an NDA. You wouldn’t have given him up either way, but if the contract made him feel better (and made him pay more) then you were happy to sign it.

“So it’s all anonymous, then? No ID, no credit card…?” he pressed.

“I mean, if cash is easier for you—”

“It is.”

You were starting to worry that this was a major red flag, as if he didn’t want to be traceable back to you at all. It was almost a dealbreaker, until you glanced down at the legal pad you’d written his offer on and remembered that you couldn’t afford to turn him down. “Then cash is fine,” you decided, making a note to yourself to have 911 already dialed when he came by in case his aversion to ID was really about a desire to get away with something.

“When can we start?”

“Um, well the soonest I can do is tomorrow at seven” you explained.

"Great, I'll be there," he answered firmly, apparently about to hand up.

“Hey, hey, slow down!” you chuckled. “Can I at least get a name?”

“I didn’t think we needed to do names.”

“We don’t… but if you’re willing, I’d like to know something to call you.”

“James,” he answered after a tense pause. “James is fine.”

“Alright, James, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Upon opening the door, you instantly noticed three things about him: he was tall, he was big, and he was sexy.

You had sort of been hoping that his appearance wouldn’t match his voice, but it did, and it was going to make this so much harder.  Maybe easier in a few ways, but overall worse.  It was important that you didn’t get too emotionally invested with your clients.

His eyes were dragging over you like he was just as taken aback.  Which was odd, because he must have seen your picture online before he called you.  

“James,” you greeted. “Glad you made it.”

You stepped aside to let him enter, guiding him to take a seat in your living room.  Before clients came by, you hid any signs of life and kept the space as neutral as possible, which was why the only furniture was the white couch he sat on, the black chair across from it, and a glass table in between.

You sat in the black chair and crossed your legs, noticing with pride the way his eyes studied your every move.

“It’s important that we have a discussion about boundaries and limits before this goes any further," you explained sternly, and he nodded slightly.  "Tell me what you do and don't want."

“Uh, well, I guess I was just looking for… somebody who can administer, um, discipline… you know, someone who sets rules and enforces them.  But could also be kind of, uh, sweet I guess, to.  Not too sweet, just… not too mean either."

You smiled a little; he sounded right up your alley.  "I can do that."

"You should know I… I have a… disability.  My left arm it's, um, it's a prosthetic."

"How would you like me to accommodate that?"

"Just don't say anything about it, please.  Treat it like a normal arm.  And, uh, if you could ignore my scars, too…" he added awkwardly.

"Of course,” you nodded, “I would never want to make you feel insecure."

"Well, I mean, I'm not against degradation," he admitted sheepishly, making you smile a little.

"Right: that's different.  Anything else you're distinctly not against?"

“I can take a lot of pain,” he explained matter-of-factly.  “However much you think I can handle, double it.  I wanna feel it.”

You could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying: I wanna feel something.

“Okay, we can do that.  You’ve probably heard of the color system," you posited.

“I haven’t.”

"Oh."  That threw you off slightly… how new was he to this scene?  “Well, it’s traditionally green, yellow, red; like a stoplight.  Red means stop.  Yellow means proceed with caution.  Green means continue.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Too simple for me, in fact.  I have my own version: ‘red’ will make me stop what I’m doing, but only ‘black’ ends the scene entirely.  And then there’s ‘blue.’  That means you want more.”

He smirked a little; a strong show of emotion compared to his stoicism so far.  “I think I’ll use that one most.”

“Just don’t be afraid to use anything else, alright?  I’d never be disappointed in you for safewording, or even just needing a break.”

He nodded.  “Can we get to it then?”

“You’re rushing as always,” you laughed.  “I’m not charging you for this part.  We have plenty of time— don’t we?”

“Yes, but—” he sighed.  “You look really… I walked in and, I guess I’m just really looking forward to this.”

You almost would’ve smiled at the compliment but you thankfully suppressed it.  “And what is it that you’re looking forward to?  What do you want me to do to you?”

His jaw tightened as he looked away from you.  “Um, there’s a lot.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Ropes.  Strongest you have.  I can buy you stronger ones if you need them, for next time…”

He’s already thinking about next time?  He’s already thinking about buying me things?

“Alright, I can do ropes: wrists and ankles?  Or more than that?”

He seemed a bit confused by that question.  “Is there anywhere else?”

“Torso,” you enumerated, “neck—” you stopped because you saw his reaction to that, and it made you smile a bit.  “Okay, so maybe the neck is something to try.  Do you like being choked?”

“I… I don’t know…” he sighed.

“Have you ever been choked before?”

“Not… sexually...”

You felt your eyebrows rise, but didn’t want to press; a story for another time, perhaps.

“We’ll have to discuss silent safewords and signals so you can tap out, but if you’d be willing to try it—”

“Yes.”

You laughed.  “Eager, are we?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if you shouldn’t have let your ‘dom voice’ slip out in that moment… but he looked so good flustered like that.  He adjusted himself slightly in his chair and you hoped he was already hard.  And with that thought in mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him further.

“Do you like being called certain things?” you asked, voice lower as you leaned forward.  “How do you feel about ‘pet’?” 

He almost kept up his poker face, but his gaze faltered at the same time he moved in his chair again.  “Um, ‘pet’ is okay.”

“Baby boy?”

“Not really my speed,” he shrugged.

You slipped out of your chair and stood up, approaching him slowly as the click of your heels echoed across the tile.  He watched you with wide eyes and quickening breaths.

“What do you like?  Tell me,” you demanded, though you kept your tone light.

“Uh,” he paused, watching your hand as it rested on his leg, “I like… I like being called a good boy.”

You grinned as you pulled your hand away, watching him tense up with disappointment.  “I can do that,” you agreed, lifting his chin with a finger until he looked at you with those beautiful, desperate eyes, “if you actually are being a good boy for me.” “I will,” he promised quickly, “I’ll be so good.”

“Mmm, I bet you will,” you purred.  “So willing to please…”

“Tell me how,” he sighed as your hand trailed from his chin down to his chest, slipping under the loose collar of his henley and rubbing his chest.  “Tell me how to please you.”

“Well, for starters, I have a name, too: Mistress.”

He sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him, but nodded.

“And if I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘No, Mistress’.  Is that clear?”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed before suddenly correcting himself, “um, yes, Mistress.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” you frowned, “but further infractions will be punished.”

“Yes, Mistress; I’m sorry, Mistress,” he moaned, melting under your touch as your hand moved down to rub his thigh through his jeans.

“Now, just for fun,” you smiled, leaning down until your lips were nearly brushing his ear, “tell me what you want.”

“Please touch me, Mistress,” he sighed.

“But I am touching you.”

“Touch my… touch my cock," he clarified, adorably embarrassed. "It’s so hard for you…”

“We’ll get to that eventually.  Let’s go to the bedroom first, okay?”

However good he looked standing in your doorway half an hour ago, it was nothing compared to how he looked naked and hard and tied to your bed.

Yes, the prosthetic and the scars that attached it to his body were hard to ignore.  He had failed to warn you that it was metal, so you couldn’t hide the slight shift of your face when it caught the light; you hoped he didn’t think it was a look of judgment or disgust, because you truly didn’t think it was anything upsetting.  Maybe the scars were a little worrying… but they didn’t seem to bother him now, at least physically.

But truly, if anything was distracting about his body, it wasn’t the arm.  It was his muscles— no wait, it had to be his cock, right?  It’s tough to call: on one hand, his entire body was toned and hardened beyond the peak of human conditioning, his thick thighs making your mouth water already, his chiseled abs almost making you jealous; but on the other hand, between those lovely thighs and curving up against those perfect abs was a cock that rivalled anything you'd ever seen before, with a blue vein running up one side and a drip of precum rolling down the other.

You finally sauntered up to the bed and ran your fingers over the taught ropes, pretending to ignore him watching you impatiently.  It was almost hotter knowing that he could pull out of the ropes if he really wanted to.  More than most, he was choosing to submit to them and to you.

“How’s this knot feel?  Too tight?” you hummed, tugging the rope just beside his wrist and watching his hand move limply with it.

“No, it’s good.”

You stepped back to the foot of the bed and stripped slowly, peeling off your black dress to reveal a matching lace set underneath.  You left your heels on as you stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.

Turning back to face him, James looked like he was all but drooling.  You could see in his eyes how much he wished the ropes weren’t holding him back so he could run his hands all over your body.

But you could tell he craved being denied what he wanted, by the way his cock flexed of its own volition.

You let yourself smile as you crawled your way up the bed and over his body, like a panther stalking its prey, and boy did he look ready to be devoured.

"Are you scared?" you asked quietly.  He shook his head.  "Are you ready?"

He nodded.  You sat up as you straddled him, positioned just right such that no part of you was really touching him, and watched with delight as he tugged against the ropes slightly to try to get closer.

"So needy," you grinned, somewhere between praising and scolding him.  Your fingers ghosted over his chest and he shivered; he asked you to treat his prosthetic like a normal arm, so you dragged your nails down the metal and watched his eyes flutter shut.  When you pulled your hand back and left him untouched again, he whined slightly.

“Aw, poor thing,” you pouted as you examined him, desperation emanating off of him in an invisible aura.  “Your cock is all red and leaking… it must hurt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned.

“What if I touch it a little?” you offered.

“Please…”

You traced your fingers lightly up and down his length, tickling the skin and giving him the least pressure that you could.  He whimpered and you chuckled mockingly.  “I said I’d touch it a little, sweet boy, are you not satisfied?”

He bucked up into your touch as best he could, causing you to pull your hand away.  “Baby, please—” 

You cut him off with a slap to the face, as hard as you could muster.

“Mistress!” he corrected with a whine.  “Mistress, please… please wrap your hand around it.”

“Around what?” 

“Around… my cock.  Stroke me, please…”

“All you had to do was ask,” you grinned, finally tightening your hand around him and moving slowly up and down the shaft.  His head fell back with a soft moan, just from that.  Your teasing had certainly helped get him this worked up, but you knew it wasn't just that… he was plenty sensitive all on his own, apparently.

It made your mouth water.

"Does this feel good, James?" you asked huskily.

"S-so good," he whimpered, "please can you… stroke it a little faster, please, Mistress…"

"Hmm, not yet," you decided, feeling him tense up beneath you.  "Relax," you instructed with a free hand rubbing his thigh gently.  

You continued to teasingly stroke his length, never quite giving him the pressure or speed he needed to get closer to his release, savoring every whimper and whine and sigh from him along with the satisfying weight of his cock against your palm.

It felt like you'd never get tired of wielding so much power in your hand.

"Please," he sighed, "I need more…"

"You want me to stroke you faster?" you pressed, already knowing that wasn't what he meant.  He shook his head and you grinned, leaning in closer but letting go of his cock. 

Slowly, you let the lace covering your core rub up against his shaft, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.  "Ohhhhh," he moaned, "oh fuck, Mistress…"

You grinned and kept rocking against him, easily feeling the warmth of him through your panties— meaning he, in turn, could feel the warmth of you.  "How does it feel, baby?" 

"Good," he choked out, "really, really good… fuck, I want more, I need more, please…"

"Are you my good boy, James?" you asked in a low purr.  He nodded eagerly, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nothing.  "Do you want to be inside me?" you finally whispered against his ear, letting a finger run lazily up his spine and feeling him shiver so hard it was more like he was convulsing.

"Please, Mistress, I'll do anything…"

You didn't touch all of your clients sexually, due in part to the fact that they usually wanted a lot more pain than pleasure.  You'd only had sex with one or two of them, and it wasn't a routine thing.  Before today you never would've imagined doing this with a first-time client, but to be completely honest… he was fucking hot.  The kind of guy you'd be spreading your legs for instantly if you weren't at work and he wanted to buy you a drink or grab lunch.  And he was here, at your disposal, begging you for more.  How could you say no?  

You pulled your panties aside and gripped his cock tightly to guide it to your entrance, studying his face twisted in anticipation before sinking down and watching him gasp and sigh all at once, somehow.

It took a lot of effort to hide your own pleasure when he was stretching you out so perfectly, but you managed to suppress the desire to moan and just smile at his fucked-out expression instead.

Finally, your hips met with his and you got to sit there and enjoy the look of dawning agony as he realized you were staying completely still.

“Move, please,” he sobbed, “oh god, Mistress, please move…”

“But I thought you wanted to be inside me?  Isn’t this what you asked for?”

He whined and tried to wiggle his hips; all that got him was two hard slaps to the face.  

“No whining,” you instructed through your teeth.  “Good boys don’t whine.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “‘m your good boy, I promise.”

“I know you are,” you grinned, “or at least, I know you can be.  Show me how good and patient you are.”

Reaching to the side a bit without getting off of him, you pulled a vibrator from your drawer.  His eyes went a little wide when he saw it, and you laughed.

"Don't worry, this isn't for you.  It's for me," you explained as you turned it on, inserting it between your body and his to touch the toy against your clit.  He winced as you sighed contentedly.  "Fuck, it feels good.  Can you feel it on your cock?"

"A… a little…" he hissed.

"I bet it feels good for you too," you posited, "but not good enough to make you come."

After a little pause, he nodded breathlessly.

"Good," you smiled.  "I just wanna come with your cock inside me.  I wanna know how it feels to get off with my favorite toy while being full of my newest toy."

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Do you like that, pretty boy?  Do you like me using your cock, being your Mistress' dumb little fucktoy?"

"Yes," he sobbed, hips shifting ever so slightly beneath you as he sought more stimulation from your flexing walls.  Shifting the vibe to hit right on your clit, you cried out— and he did too, at the feeling of you tightening around him.

"God, you love being Mistress' dildo, don't you?"

He nodded, biting hard on his lip until you worried he'd hurt himself.  He moaned again as another jolt of pleasure forced your channel to clench on his cock.

"You're making too much noise for a fucktoy, you need to be quiet."

He opened his mouth for a second, but closed it again and nodded instead.  

"You can do it yourself right?" you pressed, seeing him nod.  "You don't need me to gag that pretty mouth?" 

He whined but shook his head, keeping his lips pressed together.

That went on for a few more moments as you teased yourself with the vibe, hoping to draw this out for the sake of his struggle.  Wanting to up the ante, you took the vibe off your clit and turned it off for a moment.  "I think this would feel better with a little lube… will you get it wet for me, James?"

You brought the toy to his lips and he eagerly wrapped them around it, sucking lightly on the silicone with those pretty lashes resting on his cheeks.

"There you go, that's a good boy," you praised, pulling the toy from his mouth, "that's my good boy…"

"Yours…" he repeated weakly, "wanna be good for you, just for you…"

This time when you turned it on and pressed it to your clit again, you instantly gasped and felt your walls bare down on him; turning up the vibration, you actually moaned aloud and saw him wince.  "Oh, can you feel it now?" you asked tauntingly.  He bit his lip and nodded.

It really wasn't even intentional but you felt your hips start to rock, making him gasp as his eyes shot open.  For a guy who had been begging you to move not too long ago, he looked pretty overwhelmed by it now.

"Fuck, I'm gonna make myself come on your cock… do you wanna feel me come, baby?"

He seemed conflicted, which was exactly what you were going for.  You wanted him to struggle, just enough, between his need to satisfy himself and his desire to please you.  "I… I want to make you come, Mistress," he finally choked out, notably answering a slightly different question than the one you'd asked.  

You smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Are you afraid that if you feel me come around you, you won't be able to hold back?  That you might accidentally come inside me?"

He made a needy little groan and nodded.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm gonna help you," you promised sweetly, but of course as soon as he saw you grab a cockring from your drawer he changed his tune.

"N-no, Mistress, please," he begged with wide eyes, "I'll be good, just not that— don't put that on me."

You smirked and sat up, pulling off of him and slowly slipping the ring on his throbbing length as he quietly pleaded for mercy.  He winced when you pushed it down to the base of him, his cheeks burning hot red now.

"Is it a little too tight, baby?" you cooed, grinning when he nodded.  "Good."

You sank back down into him and let your hips grind on his, working your clit with the vibe and even kicking it up to the next highest setting.  He jolted beneath you, clearly feeling the vibrations strongly now, and you let the view of his beautifully broken facial expression egg on your own climax.

"Mm, I'm close, baby," you whispered, "just stay still and let Mistress use you like a good little boy."

He made a small noise through his teeth but seemed to manage okay, even when your walls began to pulse rhythmically around him and your head fell back, your free hand palming at your breast through the lace bra just to add that last little edge of sensation.

"Oh fuck, fuck," you moaned, "that's my good boy…"

You shakily pulled the vibe away and turned it off, still a little numb on your clit but feeling your channel still rippling slightly with aftershocks; he seemed to feel them in spite of their subtlety, if the panting breaths that filled his muscular chest rapidly were any indication.

As slow as you could manage, you pulled your body off of him and sat back on his legs to stare at his cock.  The remnants of your orgasm left plenty of lubrication to stroke it, focusing on the head which had turned almost purple now.

"M-Mistress," he groaned, writhing under your touch.

Amazingly, his cock was already flexing in your hand, and a growl of pride and hunger echoed in your chest.

“Oh fuck, can you come for me, James?” you moaned, pumping him so fast your hand was a blur.  “Can you be my good boy and come right through the cockring?”

“Yes,” he sobbed, “gonna come, Mistress, please—”

“Come right now,” you demanded, watching his face instantly fall slack as he spurted out onto his own chest and stomach, cock flexing and pulsing in your hands as his legs quivered and his hips thrusted wildly.

And the tears were flowing soon after.  You weren’t sure if it was sub drop or just the power of his release, but between weak sobs he whispered broken apologies.

“You did so good,” you cooed as you slipped off the ring and wrapped your arms around him, subtly trying to reach over to untie the ropes.  But you didn’t need to; he flexed his arms and the restraints popped like floss.  He embraced you in return as you let his head fall onto your chest.  “You’re so good, it’s okay,” you continued, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, breathing quickly and wetting you with his tears.

This, you realized, is what he had made you sign the contract to protect.  It wasn’t that he was excessively embarrassed about his sexual proclivities, but that this was his space to be soft, and weak, and broken.  Apparently he wasn’t ready for anyone else to know that he wasn’t steel all the way down.

“Shh, it’s okay… you’re okay…” you breathed, indulging him in this moment even though it was more intimate than you preferred to get with customers.  Aftercare was an important part of your job, certainly, but so was enforcing boundaries.

He began to soothe as you kissed his forehead gently, whispering well-deserved affirmations and praise.  As his breathing slowed and moved back to normal, he pulled back and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated one more time, but not as wavering as before, “I didn’t think I would… that was unexpected.”

“No, it’s somewhat normal,” you exaggerated slightly, “this kind of thing… it’s taxing, I pushed you to your limits.  You were really tough, and it’s all very vulnerable.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffling and wiping his eyes.  “And sorry about your ropes,” he smiled as he noticed the frayed ends coming off of where his wrists were still tied.

“Let me help you get those off,” you smiled, loosening the knots and sliding the binds off of him, quickly massaging the places that the rope had constricted.  “Blood flow’s okay?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“You numb anywhere?” you pressed.

“Uh, just my dick.  And my brain is all fuzzy…” 

You smiled.  “Can’t help the first one.  Let me get you some water for the second.”

“No!” he yelped suddenly.  “Um, don’t go yet, please…”

“Of course,” you smiled.  “I’ll untie your ankles, then.”

He still seemed disappointed, as if he expected you to hug him for hours and never move.  He let you go this time, though, and loosened his grip so you could slide down to the foot of the bed.  

"Was that sort of what you were hoping for when you called me?" you asked as you untied the ropes slowly and took a moment to massage the skin underneath, hoping to restore any lost blood flow.

"So much better than what I was hoping for," he admitted with a breathless chuckle.  "You're… really good."

"Well, thank you," you shrugged, "it comes with practice and experience.  You held your own, too."

"I wish I could say that was from practice and experience.  I didn't want to say anything before but I've, uh, never actually… been to a domme before."

You smiled slightly, coming back up and being pulled into another embrace.  "Um, I'll admit I can kind of tell…" you mumbled.

"I'm not supposed to touch you like this," he realized quietly, relaxing his grip on you and pulling back.  "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright, just don't get too comfortable because we only have—" you glanced at the clock— "eight more minutes until you need to leave."

"I'll get up and get dressed soon," he offered with a sigh as you got up and quickly slipped on a robe, grabbing him a damp washcloth for the drying come on his torso.

You tilted your head as you watched him clean up, and you wanted to offer some touch that was a bit less intimate than a hug, so you found yourself blurting out: "do you like having your hair played with?"

"Um, I don't… I don't know," he admitted as he reached up to card his fingers through the hair in question.  "No one else has ever really touched my hair before."

"Really?" you laughed, getting back on the bed to sit beside him.  "It looks pretty luscious.  I figured any girlfriend of yours would want to get her hands on it."

"Oh, well, the last time I had a girlfriend… it wasn't long then," he explained, and you kept on your best poker face.  His hair looked like he'd been growing it out for at least two years, unless it grew crazy fast or something.  How long had he been single?  With a body like that you could barely believe that he was single now.

"Do you mind if I touch it?" you offered quietly, and once he gave you a nod you reached forward and combed your fingers through it, reaching deeper to scratch at his scalp, occasionally pulling the strands lightly into loose braid-like patterns that fell away almost immediately afterwards.  He sank into your touch until you found yourself supporting his head against your chest, mindlessly playing with his hair until you noticed his eyes were shut, his breathing was slowed, and his body was limp on top of yours.

He fell asleep.

You laughed silently to yourself, realizing that you couldn't get him off of you without his cooperation since he was so heavy and you had no shot at lifting him.  And, of course, his cooperation required his consciousness… which required waking him up.

And, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.  He just looked too peaceful, for a guy who had never seemed truly relaxed around you.

Was there any other way he could relax?  Cause it kinda seemed like he really, really needed this.  And you were in the business of meeting needs, to say the least.

So, with an apologetic text to your last client of the night that you needed to reschedule, you let James sleep on you as you closed your eyes and drifted off as well.

[kiridarling]

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐤𝐮, 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐨

𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔.

→ Okay. Izuku Midoriya? A sadist.

→ And you've been a brat all day, because he's been busy fighting crime as a newly debuted pro hero, and you can't help it if Izuku's new suit fits him a little too well.

→ And of course, the one day he finally has time to take you on a date you two go to the mall, only to be swarmed with thousands of Pro Hero Deku fans buzzing with requests for photo's and autographs and other bullshit and you just want to clobber them in the head and spit the ugly truth in their faces—that at the end of the day, their lovely Deku comes home to you, and sleeps next to you, and the fact that they can steal his attention away from you is absolutely outrageous. Blasphemy.

→ So naturally, you start acting up. You roll your eyes at the next fan who asks you to take the picture and you scoff at the next fan that announces their love. You pile them on, offense after offense, and by the time you get into the car, Izuku's practically vibrating with anger.

"Say one word and I'm bending you over the hood."

→ Oh.

→  Needless to say, you're squirming the whole ride; though you're unsure if it's from his words, the dead silence, or the tight grip Izuku has on your thigh but either way, the trip back home feels painfully long.

→ The second you two get through the door, he's cornering you into the living room and bending you over the arm of the couch without a second thought, big hands yanking your hips back so your ass sticks out just the way he likes it.

"Bratty doll...you wanted my attention that bad, huh?”

→ Izuku exaggerates every other word with a harsh spank that has you whimpering behind a bitten lip. Though eventually, he deems your muffled moans not enough and aggressively yanks your bottoms off,  stuffing his fingers into your mouth.

→ Once they're wet enough, he slides a finger in, (because no matter how angry he is, you’re still his baby). But once you're ready? It's game over.

→ You figured Izuku was going to be a tease about it, but once he sits you on his cock and doesn't move, it has you squirming in confusion. What the hell could he be waiting for?

"Awe, what's the matter, doll? Did you want me to move?"

→ The hold his hands have on your waist is tight enough that you can't even twitch your hips—and the grip only gets tighter the more you wiggle in protest. Izuku tuts, landing a slap to your bruised ass that makes one thing clear: You’re not moving.

→ The green-haired bastard turns on the tv, for fucks sake. And has the audacity to pretend like he's paying attention to whatever's on—because it's not like you're paying attention, too preoccupied with the cock in your guts. You can't squirm because something tells you that'll only lengthen the punishment you've been sentenced to, but by the end of the first episode, it's a little hard not to.

→ Izuku caves the second you start begging. Mostly because it was what he was waiting for, but also he's probably struggling worse than you while he watches you whimper and squirm in his lap.

“Fine, doll. Since you waited so patiently, I guess I can make you feel good.”

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈.

→ 100% your idea

→ And he had absolutely no warning. The Bakusquad decided to hold a movie night in the common room on a random Saturday evening when the dorms were pretty much empty. Katsuki didn't even want to be down there in the first place, but after you winked so prettily and promised he'd get a treat if he came, he didn't grumble nearly as much.

→ But what he didn't know was that you meant right now.

→ Katsuki knew something was up the second you sat in his lap and asked Denki for a blanket—that's rarely your Bakusquad move night cuddle position, plus you're always saying how you never need a blanket because Katsuki runs so warm.

→ And he definitely knew something was up when you started grinding against him, not even ten minutes into whatever shitty action movie Denki and Eijirou convinced the group to watch this time. His hands rush to your hips because if Katsuki Bakugou is anything, he's not a goddamn exhibitionist.

"Oi, the fuck are you doing, dumbass? They're gonna fuckin' see."

→ But as always, you take his words with a grain of salt, already blindly fiddling with the buckle of his belt despite his threats (AKA, I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, you fuckin' heathen). The metal clinks for a second and both of you tense, but it seems no one hears it over the movie, so. You relax.

→ Katsuki does not.

→ You wait for a loud crash from the television speakers and you're sinking down on Katsuki's cock, his teeth tearing into your shoulder as he holds back a moan. Both of you let out a shaky breath when you bottom out.

"W-Well? You gonna fuckin' move or what?"

→ You shake your head.

"No? Fuck."

→ And honestly, all is well until about twenty minutes into the movie. At this point, Katsuki's semi-comatose, eyes half-lidded from the surprisingly peaceful warmth you're both encompassed in. But unfortunately, this peace is disturbed by a rude awakening that comes in the form of none other than Denki Kaminari.

→ All he does is mention how Katsuki looks much too out of it, owing it all to "y/n's juicy caboose," but it has your boyfriend practically rearing on his hind legs in fury either way.

→ In the middle of all the commotion, you take the opportunity to wiggle your hips a bit, rendering the majority of Katsuki's arguments repetitive and ineffective. The bickering blond's shut up once Mina calls for it, and Katsuki returns to whisper-yell threats in your ear again.

"Do you want us to get fuckin' caught? Huh? I ca—fuckin' hell—stop movin’!"

→ But you giggle, having a little too much fun with this. The death grip Katsuki has around your thigh implies he’s closer than you thought, and the moment the action in the movie starts to pick up again, so does the steady roll of your hips.

→ Katsuki practically whimpers into your ear, body shaking with restraint because he lacks the proper space to “put you in your place” or however he wants to put it. You know he’s teetering on the edge when he resorts to something Katsuki Bakugou never does—begging.

“Babe—babe c-c’mon please, I don’t wanna—”

→ Katsuki’s nails dig into your thigh and he shivers as he fills you up, bottom teeth digging into his swollen lip. His quiet moans push you off the edge as well, adding to the mess under the blanket as fake explosions emanate from the tv screen.

→ That was...something.

“I hate you so goddamn much.”

→ You snort, rolling your eyes at his overdramatic ass. But?

“...But that was the hottest sex of my fuckin’ life.”

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀.

→ You and Hanta definitely do this once a month. At least.

→ Getting high with Hanta as your boyfriend is probably one of your favorite things. He's got snacks, cool LED lights, a monitor that constantly plays animal planet while the speakers play lofi. It's an experience.

→ And of course, you two get horny—though sex is a little hard when you're feeling fuzzy. Hanta's a high-functioning stoner but frankly, you're not, and even he gets a little fumbly when it comes down to it. Cockwarming seemed like the only viable option.

→ Half of the time, it's not even that sexual. Watching otters chase each other with his back pressed up against yours as you bask in a familiar warmth that only comes from true human connection is nice. Feeling his lips place butterfly kisses against the column of your neck is nice. Just...being with Hanta is nice.

→ But tonight? Tonight it's definitely sexual.

"So warm, Princess. You know your body does things to me, don't you?"

→ You didn't, but the way he says it definitely makes you believe him, and so does the way he rubs his hands up and down your sides. Hanta bites into your neck and you stifle a moan, balancing yourself on his knees.

→ You jump when his hand ghosts your inner thigh, and he chuckles when you bite your lip, eyes trained on the hand moving between your legs.

"Like it when I rub you like that, Princess? Like it when I turn you into a messy little puddle in my arms, hmm?"

→ You whine and nod, chest shuddering with the threat of an impending orgasm. Hanta curses behind you, the hand holding you steadily by the waist tightening.

"Shit—keep clenching like that and you might make me cum, Princess."

→ Hanta huffs out a laugh but you can hear the genuine implication behind it, can feel it in the pant of his breath against your neck. The thought of making him cum from something so simple has you hurtling towards your orgasm at an alarming speed, nails digging into his forearm as the weight of your marijuana-laced orgasm hits you like a fucking freight train.

→ Hanta moans breathily, eyebrows knitting as his own orgasm catches him by surprise. His hips twitch and it almost sends you flying off his lap but somehow, you don't go tumbling—though you might owe that to the vice grip Hanta has on your hip.

→ You two come down, basking in the gentle blue of the ocean as the chatter from the Australian narrator about the Humpback whales and their baleen teeth fills the room. You move to get up but Hanta whines, hands keeping you still via your waist.

"Lemme stay inside for a bit...'S warm."

[a/n: thanks for stopping by angel, and let me know who you want to see next <3. see you soon!]

—ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀɴ 𝟷𝟾+ ʙʟᴏɢ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅɴɪ

[dienamights]

A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere​ ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you. 

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work. 

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,” 

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement. 

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible. 

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-” 

“How is your hero boyfriend?” 

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention. 

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change. 

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?” 

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior. 

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention. 

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful. 

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it. 

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him 

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time. 

He told me so. 

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.” 

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt. 

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.” 

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek. 

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it. 

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!

[ragingbookdragon]

Let It All Come Crashing Down

Batbrother x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Past Assault/Abuse

Author's Note: One of my favorite episodes of Criminal Minds was always the one where Morgan came face to face with his abuser. The dialogue at the end of the episode fits Batbrother's past too. But, this does mention past assault. If this is a triggering subject, please don't read. -Thorne

**********************************************************************

When he’d told Dick about the incident when he was seventeen, he didn’t expect it was going to come back full front. He’d kept tabs on the man whenever his former CO would move bases, when he promoted, when he eventually retired and relocated to Gotham City, opening a military assistance center. It was a farce, and he knew it. A place where the old CO could still continue his reign of fear on those still in the military and those outside.

***

He stared at the screen in the Batcave, ignoring the bickering of his youngest sibling and his father’s oldest friend, recounting every moment that led to the mission. A woman his age found dead, murdered, the brother charged with the crime. All evidence supported the facts, but (Y/N) knew. He knew deep down something else was going on, especially when he learned that the brother had attended the center in Gotham.

“Isaac Keegan is going to be sent to Blackgate tonight,” Bruce murmured. “He won’t last the night.”

(Y/N) shook his head. “He didn’t do this.”

His father glanced at him. “How do you know?”

“Doesn’t matter how I know,” he retorted with mild annoyance. “But I know who really did this.” He turned, glancing at Ghost-Maker. “Think you can get Isaac out of the armed van and back here without anyone dying?”

The vigilante cocked his arms over his chest. “Of course. But why do you wanna talk to him?”

“I don’t. But I need him alive long enough to get a confession out of the real killer.” (Y/N) answered, looking at Tim with a gaze that had his younger brother’s spine going straight; he could feel the seriousness ebbing from his older brother. “And I’m going to need your help with this.”

***

He didn’t like stepping into enemy territory without protection. He felt naked without his nano suit, even more so without his sidearm, but the last thing he needed was for the metal detectors in the building to go off and let the remaining people inside know he was there.

Slipping down the halls, he took a moment to catch his breath before he turned the corner into his old CO’s office.

“Davis.”

The older man looked up, eyes widening at the sight of his former subordinate. “(Y/N)? Is that—you’re alive?”

“I am,” he answered and Davis’ face split into a fake smile.

“I thought you’d died years ago in Afghanistan.”

“Not exactly.” (Y/N) kept away from the desk, away from close contact; he knew he could take the man, but he wanted the confession first before they came to blows, if they did. “I heard about Jessica Keegan.”

Davis frowned. “It’s a shame what happened to her. Even more so a shame that Isaac was the one who did it.” He shook his head. “I thought he was doing to well with his treatments too.”

(Y/N) tapped the device in his pocket. Now Tim. “Except that Isaac didn’t kill Jessica.”

“Excuse me?”

“All these years, I’ve kept my mouth shut,” (Y/N) said. “I’ve let you go on being a hero. Admiral Davis, the great war hero.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” Davis questioned, face contorting in confusion and the younger man scowled.

“God, I was so afraid of you when we were in Afghanistan,” he admitted. “I was afraid of going to Command about it all. Afraid of losing every promotion and achievement I was being given.” (Y/N) stepped forward, expression shifting to anger. “But that’s how you’ve always worked, isn’t it? You made sure there was a helluva lot to lose if someone came forward, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you think you remember about Afghanistan,” Davis said. “But—”

“No, no, no,” he interrupted. “See it’s not what I remember that’s going to hurt you, Davis. The business between us has been over way too long ago to matter.” (Y/N) explained. “You’re protected by a statute of limitations and that’s my fault.”

Davis shrugged. “Then good evening.”

He glared. “You set Isaac up! You knew his sister wanted him to call someone about you. So you killed her and framed him as a distressed veteran?” (Y/N)’s face pinched as he accused, “You killed her because you knew someone was going to piece it all together and come after you, didn’t you?”

“Now you’re just throwing accusations around.” Davis replied and (Y/N) slapped a decoration off his desk.

It shattered and he shouted, “God, I should’ve told someone about you when I was in Afghanistan! When you were ‘training’ me.” He took another step forward, voice lowering dangerously. “Well, you know what happens in cases like this? Once that dam breaks, the flood comes.”

He raised a finger. “One servicemember stands up, just one. And then another one, and another. Because they’re not afraid of your repercussions anymore—they know they’re not alone.” (Y/N) tipped his head up. “Isaac Keegan is your dam.”

For the first time since they’d started speaking, Davis showed his anger as he barked, “Whatever lies Isaac told you—”

“THEY ARE NOT LIES!” (Y/N) yelled. “YOU DID THE SAME THINGS TO ME!”

“I didn’t do a damn thing to you or to Isaac—”

“One by one, they’re going to pile up until there’s so many accusations, you can’t say that they’re all lies!”

Davis thrust his hands to his chest. “Do you have any idea how many men and women I helped promote? How many lives I’ve saved with my service?” He gestured to (Y/N). “Look at you! You would’ve been dead in a shallow grave if I hadn’t helped you.”

“Yeah, well that shit wasn’t for free, was it?” (Y/N) demanded, throat tightening with emotion.

“I pulled you out of the gutter.” Davis murmured.

He shook his head, the tears of anger flashing the pain from his voice. “I pulled myself out of the gutter! All the way to the top military squads! I did that!”

“You’re saying I had nothing to do with making you who you are?” Davis questioned, a look of offense on his face.

(Y/N)’s rage cooled, shoulders sinking back as he raised his head and admitted, “No Davis. Actually, I’m saying you have everything to do with making me who I am.” He gazed at the man. “Because of what you did to me, I’m the man who’s going to spend the rest of his life making sure abusers of power like you face the consequences.”

“(Y/N),” Davis comforted. “I never meant to hurt you.” His expression turned sympathetic. “You could’ve said no.”

He turned his head away, jaw clenching so hard it hurt, then he looked back at him, and two men turned the doorway. (Y/N) watched Davis’ eyes widen in shock.

“Quinton Davis, you’re under arrest for the rape and murder of Jessica Keegan.” The two military police officers walked around (Y/N), and each took an arm.

Davis shifted. “I’ve helped a lot of veterans and service members.” He started thrashing. “Nothing in this goddamn city is going to be the same with me. Without the center, who’s going to look after them?”

His expression hardened. “Wayne Enterprises will. I will.”

“Wait a minute damnit!” he looked at (Y/N), pleading, “(Y/N), please, isn’t there anything you can do for me?”

(Y/N) got in Davis’ face. “You can rot in hell.”

He watched the MP’s drag away the screaming man before letting out a shaky breath and reaching up to his chest, yanking off the necklace that had the camera built into it. Tim had no doubt cut the feed by now and he shoved it in his pocket, free hand coming up to wipe away the tears in his eyes.

***

“What happens now?” the young man asked, dark circles under his eyes making him seem wearier.

(Y/N) sighed. “There’s going to be a trial. Davis will face the consequences.”

Isaac frowned. “I’m going to have to testify, aren’t I?”

“Yes. But I know who the prosecutor is. She’s good. She’ll nail Davis to the wall for everything.”

“I…I don’t know if I can do it.”

He reached out and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Then do it for Jessica.”

“I miss her.” Isaac whispered, head lowering as he sniffed. “I should’ve spoken out sooner.”

“I know,” (Y/N) murmured. “I feel the same.”

His head cocked up, teary eyes gazing into (Y/N)’s. “Will you be there?”

“I’ll probably be called by the prosecutors to testify.” He shrugged. “But with the statute of limitations, I don’t know how much it’s going to weight in our favor.”

“But you already told the world about your past with Davis?” Isaac said. “We—we all watched it live.”

“That was just the start.” (Y/N) said. “We have to see it to the end. For all the servicemen and women he abused over the years.” He turned, looking at Nightwing and Red Hood. “They’ll take you back to your apartment.”

Isaac nodded, starting to follow, then he stopped and looked back at (Y/N). “How’d you go on after Afghanistan?”

He met the young man’s eyes, then he glanced at his family. “I was still needed. Still am.” (Y/N) turned back to Isaac. “You never forget it…but it does get better.” He stuck his hand out. “And I’ll be there when you need me.”

They shook hands and he watched Isaac walk off with his brothers before he turned and moved to the railing overlooking Gotham Bay. A multitude of emotions swirled in his chest, but a sense of relief rested on his shoulders, and he let his head drop, the tears starting to drip down his cheeks.

Someone’s hand rested between his shoulder blades, followed by a deep voice comforting, “It’s okay, son.”

He shook his head. “I should’ve said something earlier.”

“It’s not your fault,” Bruce affirmed. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

(Y/N) looked up, gazing at his father. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” the man murmured, expression soft. “But why didn’t you come to me?”

He paused, inhaling shakily as he said, “It only lasted for a short time. I was promoted and inducted into the super soldier program.” He shrugged. “By the time I finally wanted to tell someone, Davis had already left the compound and too much time had passed for it to matter.”

(Y/N) gazed out at the water. “It’s not over…but the world knows what he really is now. And all the people who suffered are going to see justice.”

Bruce leaned on the railing next to him. “You don’t show many signs of a survivor,” he noted. “You keep it all under wraps.”

“I learned during the super soldier program that there are worse things than what happened to me.” (Y/N) sighed. “Davis’ abuse might be what makes me so hateful of abusers, but when I started the team, I refused to let it control me and my life.” He raised his head. “I was going to live my life to the fullest, with whoever I wanted and even if I never told anyone, that was going to be the one part of me no one would ever take away.”

His father observed him for a moment then he stood, nudging (Y/N) until he did too; they looked at one another, a father and a son, and Bruce said, “I’m proud of you, (Y/N). For everything.”

(Y/N)’s mouth opened and snapped shut once, twice, a third time, then he raised one hand to cover his eyes as the lower half of his face twisted in pain, the other fumbling blindly for Bruce. His father caught him, one strong arm wrapping around (Y/N)’s back, the other pressing his son’s head to his shoulder.

“I’m here son,” he murmured. “I’m always going to be here.” He pressed his lips to the young man’s temple. “And I love you son. So much.”

“I love you too, dad,” he choked out, holding onto his father for dear life.

[helliontherapscallion]

Unexpected Encounters (Adrenaline Junkie Part 8)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: minor swearing

Word count: 2,775

You walked down the now worn cobblestone path towards the main plaza of the village by Philza’s house. Whistling the first verse of the L’manberg national anthem, you wove slightly at the crowd of people gathered at the stands that littered the sides of the street. 

The village was much larger than the entire L’manberg nation. It had several different precincts with a large, diverse group of people and a few hybrids living there. It also had more amenities like shops, a library (which, to your delight, grew expansively to include more books on inventions, some being exclusively about yours. They were proud people that embraced whatever fame comes out of the area), and multiple towering office buildings.

Everything’s changed since you’ve last been here a year ago. What was now more modern used to be traditional. What was loosely populated was now bustling with people. What used to be barren was now chock full of shops and apartment complexes. It was kind of jarring to see this much change in a little over a year.

In retrospect, it was jarring how much you changed in a little over a year. The hallucinations have finally almost completely stopped along with the nightmares. They only came about once a week now. You were slowly reincorporating green back into your wardrobe. Your phantom pain has retreated into your subconscious. It was always going to be with you, so you got used to the constant pain and tingling feeling. You learned to appreciate the small things in life and just live in the moment so you would have something positive to look back on in the future.

You invented several different gadgets to help your brothers win the L’manberg War of Independence such as a portable TNT launcher, handheld long-distance communication devices (which you affectionately dubbed walkie talkies since you could walk and talk! Wilbur and Tommy were not as enthusiastic of the name as you were), and a redstone powered crossbow that continuously fired arrows until you released the trigger. Though all of your inventions were practically your babies, they did not come anywhere close to trumping your magnum opus: your metal fully functioning wing. 

After several mishaps and failed attempts, you finally made your wing correspond to the electrical impulses in your muscles so that it copied the movements of your flesh wing. It’s built out of a lightweight hollow iron and has feather shaped metal pieces protruding off from it to emulate your other wing. It was a sleek silver color that always caught a ray of sunshine and reflected it to another place. It was basically permanently attached to your body by now due to it being a pain to take on and off. It was just easier and more efficient to keep it on constantly. 

People around you stared, some in awe and some in admiration. A stark difference from when you first lost your wing. Sometimes, you resented them for treating you differently just because your name became more widely known, but you were always a firm believer that everyone deserves a second chance. Even attention seeking, unscrupulous assholes looking for cheap brownie points from their peers because ‘I knew them before they were discovered! I knew them personally, we were, like, really close!’ So for now, you tried to ignore the ugly indignation bubbling in your gut and threatening to spew out in a string of hurtful words. You were sick of being angry, especially now that L’manberg is at peace. 

You passed several people who pointed at you and whispered amongst themselves. Ignoring them, you continued onward with your head held high and your wings folded in tightly to avoid children grabbing and pulling them with their grubby little hands. It always took you a while to clean and preen them after people touched them. You hated cleaning off fingerprints and grime from the smooth metal.

Walking with a sense of purpose, you continued onwards passing multiple shops and stands until you finally reached the butcher. Opening the decorated glass door, a little bell chimed alerting the burly man behind the counter of your presence. Like the others, he stared wide-eyed at you with his lips slightly parted in shock. Great, another exhausting encounter. 

Putting on a polite smile, you broke the silence of the meat shop. “Hello, I’m here to buy half a pound of fresh ground beef. Would you by chance have any in stock?” That seemed to snap him out of his stupor.

“O-of course, I’ll get that for you right away.”

He disappeared into the backroom where frosty fog rolled out in tiny clouds. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Maybe he wouldn’t ask any questions or try to get to know you on a personal level.

He returned in a hurry, slapping the wrapped beef onto the counter and giving you a price. Reaching into your wallet for the cash, you paid him generously. “Keep the change.”

“I-thank you, Mx. Minecraft.”

Putting the beef into your satchel, you gave him a more genuine smile. “Don’t mention it.”

Briskly walking out, you made a beeline for the village’s main entrance. You couldn’t stand the feeling of constantly being watched and talked about anymore. Why couldn’t they treat you like a normal person? In your opinion, you were, well, you. Nothing was special about you.

As you were about to cross the threshold of the village, you heard footsteps behind you.

“HEY! MX. MINECRAFT I NEED TO TALK TO YOU.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, you closed your eyes and took a few steadying breaths so that you wouldn’t lash out at this person. You just wanted to go to your childhood home and have a nice, peaceful dinner with your dad. Was that too much to ask? 

Opening your eyes and plastering on a fake smile, you turned around and greeted him. He was a young boy, probably around eleven or twelve years old. His clothes and shaggy auburn hair were disheveled and he had dirt smeared on his face. “Hello, to whom may I owe the pleasure?”

He put his hands on his knees and tried to talk between gasping breaths. “Mx, my name’s Arthur Fox, i-it’s truly an honor to meet you. I’ve admired your work since before the war in L’manberg. You’re an amazing inventor and I wanna be just like you when I grow up. I- oooh I’m sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I?” He kind of reminded you of Tubbo in a strange way.

“No, you’re fine Arthur. Thank you for being a fan of my work, but I must get going. I have an important meeting to attend to.” You weren’t exactly lying to the young boy. Turning on your heel, you started to walk off only to feel a hand on your arm.

“Mx, I need to talk to you.”

“I really have to get going, Arthur. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“No, it’s important.”

You struggled to keep the smile on your face as you shrugged his arm off as politely as you could. This kid is determined. Too determined. “So’s my meeting. I have to go.” You started to walk off into the beaten forest path.

“Do you know about The Warden?”

You halted abruptly and sharply turned around. You let your smile and polite stature drop into pursed lips and sharp eyes.

“...Of course I do. Everyone does.”

Flinching slightly, he quickly recovered his confident facade. “No, that’s not what I meant. Do you know about The Warden?”

“Like I said,” you played stupid, “everybody does. Who doesn’t?”

He puffed his cheeks out in frustration. “Ugh, how could someone so smart be so stupid at the same time? I mean you met it didn’t you? It took your wing.”

You took a step forward and narrowed your eyes, fully facing him now. “How do you know about that? Who told you?” 

He stepped back. “I-I heard rumors a couple of years back that it got someone. I heard your name thrown around here and there.”

You gave him enough of a warning that you didn’t want to talk, but he ignored it and now he has to reap the consequences. At this point, you were so tired and drained from everyone trying to be buddy-buddy with you that you finally snapped. The only thing you wanted was to go home, you did not need this right now. 

“Well, Arthur, you shouldn’t pry into other people’s business. I’ve told you time and time again that I have to leave, yet you persist to stop me. Why? And where are your parents, didn’t they teach you any manners?”

He looked downwards and fiddled with his fingers. “They’re dead. T-The Warden took someone important to me. I… I thought you might be able to help me.”

Shit, you just yelled at a grieving orphan. You were a massive asshole weren’t you? Your eyes softened slightly and you frowned. “...I’m sorry for your loss. Is there anything I could do to make it up to you? Dinner perhaps? We can talk about how I could help you afterwards.”

He glanced up at you. “But-but what about your meeting.”

You winced. “Uh, I’m moving it forward, we have more pressing matters.” You paused awkwardly. “Do… Do you have anybody to ask permission? Any siblings?”

His shoulders drooped. “...No. I’m all by myself.”

Shit, you yelled at a grieving homeless orphan? God what kind of role model were you? 

“C’mon, kid. We’re going to my house.” 

His wordlessly followed you and avoided looking into your eyes. The walk to your childhood home was very awkward, neither of you attempted starting conversation. You sighed.

“Look, Arthur I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. That was really uncalled for, I shouldn’t have yelled or gotten mad. It’s just that- The Warden’s a… touchy subject for me.”

“It’s alright, Mx. Minecraft. You can make it up to me by… making me dinner and showing me some of your blueprints?”

He looked up to you with hope filled, sparkling eyes. You snorted. “It’s a deal, kid. We’re almost there.” 

You could see the silhouette of the house in the nearly setting sun. It was still the same as when you left a year ago. 

“Ya know,” you sighed out, “this is actually my Dad’s house. I’m just visiting him for a couple of weeks.”

“Where do you live then?”

“I live in the heart of L’manberg with my brothers.”

“That’s cool…” He trailed off. You frowned, it seems that he was nervous to meet your Dad. You probably should’ve mentioned that Philza was there to him before taking him here.

You stopped, grabbing Arthur’s shoulders. “Kid, you don’t have to worry about meeting my dad. He’s probably the kindest, most genuine man I’ve ever met. He’ll welcome you with open arms, that’s what he did with me and my three brothers. He adopted us all.”

He gave you a small smile. “Alright, Mx. Minecraft, I trust you.”

“Oh, please don’t call me ‘Mx. Minecraft’, it makes me feel ancient,” you lolled your head back and dramatically groaned out, making him giggle. “I just turned twenty, buddy. Feel free to call me (y/n).”

 Putting your hand on his shoulder, you led him to the front door. You twisted the old door knob and pushed the wooden door open.

“Dad, I’m home and I brought the beef!”

He popped his head out from the kitchen, his messy blond hair flopping onto his face. He gave you a joking smile. “Took you long enough, any longer and I would’ve locked ya out.” 

You watched as his eyes wandered over to Arthur. He frowned, revealing his frilly pink apron that Wilbur got him as a joke. Oh, you could just hear the gears in his head churning.

“...(Y/n), who’s this?”

Grinning sheepishly, you replied. “Dad, this is Arthur Fox. Arthur, this is my dad Philza Minecraft. I promised him dinner and somewhere to stay for the night. Do you have some of Tommy’s old clothes Artie could borrow for the night?”

He sighed, shooting you a we’ll-talk-about-this-later look. “Yes, they’re in the attic. I’ll grab them after dinner so he could shower before going to bed.”

Arthur timidly spoke up. “Thank you, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad softened and gave him a gentle smile. “It’s no problem, Arthur. And please, call me Philza. Mr. Minecraft makes me feel old.”

Arthur let out a loud laugh. Despite everything he went through, his laugh still sounds like an innocent child’s laugh. You chuckled, kids always had a silly little laugh. Philza grinned at him, a child’s laughter was something that he missed.

Arthur wiped at his eyes as his laughter died down. “I’m sorry, (y/n) said the same outside.”

“I did,” you smiled lightly at Arthur before looking back at Philza with mischief, standing up straight and putting your hands on your hips. “But I was funnier.”

“Pft, you wish. I was saying that before you were even born. So, I win because I’ve been saying it longer.”

“Whatever ya say, old man. Funniness over age.”

He playfully glared at you, placing an offended hand over his heart. “I’m not that old.”

“Ya kinda are, Dad. You’re practically turning to dust!”

He gasped. “I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Are too!”

“Am no- wait Dad, that’s cheating!”

“You still said it though!” He sang out, grinning at you cheekily.

“No, that doesn’t count!”

Arthur’s amused brown eyes bounced between you and Philza like he was watching a tennis match. Every so often, he would giggle at something one of you said. You both took your banter to the kitchen where you and Philza started to cook. Dinner was done and the table was set in no time. There was pleasant small talk as dinner neared an end

Your dad swallowed his last bite of beef and turned his attention towards Arthur. “So Arthur, how old are you?”

Arthur gave a small grin. “I’m ten.”

“Do your paren-”

You loudly coughed, throwing a discreet glare at Philza. Mouthing ‘don’t’ from behind your hand, you took a big sip of your water and stood up. “I’ll wash all the dishes. Arthur, would you like to look at some of my blueprints while we wait for my Dad to get you some clothes?”

His eyes shined with excitement. “Yes please!”

You chuckled, putting the plates in the sink and walking down to your old workshop to grab one of the blueprints you left in a filing cabinet. You grabbed the first draft for your prosthetic and the final draft for the automatic farm.

Upstairs, you situated the blueprints in front of Arthur at the dinner table. “Okay buddy, learn to your heart’s content. I’m gonna do the dishes. If you need something just give me a shout.”

Walking into the kitchen, you filled the sink with warm soapy water and got started scrubbing. You moved your wings around subconsciously as you wiped the pots and plates clean of grease. Humming in satisfaction when you were done, you dried your hands and sat next to Arthur who was looking at your designs with complete awe. 

“You like them?”

He nodded his head so fast you thought it might fall off and started to fling questions at you. You smiled fondly at him, it was nice to see someone so interested in how your inventions were made and not just how they worked. 

You two were mid conversation when Philza walked into the room with a bundle of clothes in his arms. You grabbed Arthur’s hand and led him up to the bathroom. You bent down and rested your hands on your knees, looking at him.

“Alright buddy, everything you need is in there, clean towels are in the closet. When you’re done, I’ll be in my room just over there,” you pointed to your door. “Last door on the left. I can show you where you’ll be sleeping for the night when you’re done. Does that sound okay?”

He gave you a gap-toothed smile. “Yes, thank you (y/n)! You’re the best!”

He closed the bathroom door and you stood there. You felt… oddly fond for the boy you just met only hours before. 

Philza cleared his throat and pinned you to the wall with a stern look. “(Y/n), explain now.”

“I will, but let’s talk in my room so Arthur can shower in peace. Poor boy needs it.”

He sighed and walked into your room. You had a long talk ahead of you.

(A/N): so, how do you guys like Arthur?

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[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

oasis

Peter Quill x Reader

Prompt: “can we share the blanket?”

Summary: quill catches you building a blanket fort to surprise groot with, and surprises you by helping. the two of you decide to test it out before the crew get back, and he shows you a side of him you haven’t really seen before.

Warnings: smut, fluff, hint of angst, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, adult language.

Word Count: 4,486

Got a Request? Prompt List: here

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You were humming quietly along with the dulcet sound of the Fleetwood Mac you’d left playing over the ship’s speakers, enjoying the way it echoed lightly down the metal walls of the corridor towards you. You made your way down to the cargo bay of the Benatar, your arms piled high with the sheets and blankets you’d just pilfered from your bunk. You cursed quietly to yourself as the toe of your slipper caught on a seam in the floor, tripping you up slightly as you went. Still, it did nothing to dull your good mood.

You dumped the blankets on the floor once you reached the quiet corner of the cargo bay you’d selected earlier, joining the stacks of pillows you’d already brought out between two shoulder-high storage crates. You smiled, pleased with yourself, releasing a happy sigh before setting about your self-appointed task. You never got hours like this, peaceful, simple moments without the sounds of crewmates arguing or the clattering of metal on metal. You loved your life with the Guardians, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t sometimes crave the quiet.

You bent over, searching through the stack of blankets for the biggest.

“Not that I mind the view, but you wanna tell me what you’re doing with my bedding?”

You jumped, startled, before arching your neck to look back over your shoulder. Peter Quill was standing behind you, leaning his shoulder against the ladder to the cockpit with his arms folded across his chest. He’d removed his jacket since re-boarding, the short sleeves of his tee shirt showcasing the muscles in his arms. He had an eyebrow raised in wry amusement, a trademark smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes at him before turning back to what you were doing, unsure if you’d imagined his gaze lingering over your backside.

“Your bedding is safe. This is all from crew quarters,” you assured him. Both you and Mantis struggled with the cold of the ship when you were off world, so you’d made it a mission even before she’d joined the crew to always have more than enough blankets on board. They’d kind of become bulky souvenirs of the planets you visited, and you usually kept them stacked in a locker in the corner of the bunk you shared with her and Gamora. Thankfully now that you’d all upgraded to the Benatar, you had more space – while Quill, as captain, still had his own private quarters, there was now an extra bunk for Drax, Rocket and Groot to use. You glanced down at the pillow in front of you. “…and a few from the medical supply crate.”

“What, you finally got sick of hearing Drax’s snoring through the wall?”

You turned around to face him properly, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Are you kidding? It’s like white noise to me now. I don’t think I could ever sleep again without an active sawmill present.” Quill chuckled. “What are you doing back? You guys only left like an hour ago.”

He shrugged. “Xandar gets boring fast.”

It was your turn to raise a brow. “There’s a whole planet out there full of gullible idiots, pretty women with loose morals, and plentiful booze. What more could you want?”

“Wow.” he snickered. “I feel seen.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “So? Why couldn’t all the wonders of Xandar’s seedy underbelly hold your attention, Star Lord?”

He ignored the question, the easy smile still on his lips. “The hell are you doing, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you come join me and find out?”

He gave you a smirk, the glint in his eyes mischievous. “Can we share the blanket?”

“I think there’s more than enough to go around,” you said dryly, and his smile widened. Your impatient answers to his flirty remarks always seemed to entertain him. Which was probably why he kept doing it. “But that would be the idea.”

“Huh?”

You pulled one of the pillows to your chest and wrapped your arms around it. “It’s a surprise. For Groot.”

“Is he sick of Drax’s snoring?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, standing and shaking out one of the largest, heavier quilts. You flung it over the crates, letting it hang over them like a canopy. “I’m building him a pillow fort, jackass.”

“A pillow fort.”

“Yup.”

“A pillow fort.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “Quill.”

“Why exactly?”

“C���mon, dude.” you said, tossing a pillow at him. He caught it, one-handed, with a grin. “Didn’t you ever build a pillow fort as a kid?”

Peter was quiet for a moment before he made a show of rolling his eyes and shrugging. Still, a small smile teased at the corner of his lips. “Want a hand?”

***

You sighed in satisfaction, wiping your hands together as you surveyed your work. The two of you had, on his suggestion, shoved the crates back against the wall, and in the little alcove you’d created together was one hell of a pillow fort. You’d draped sheets and blankets over the entire thing and layered more over the metal floor. Pillows had been thrown into haphazard piles, making the whole thing seem like some kind of gaudy, cozy nest. Quill had surprised you by rigging the string of lights he and Rocket sometimes used to do repairs at night to a much lower brightness and had hung them around the makeshift tent like the fairy lights you’d had as a kid.

“I think it’s safe to say that we nailed it.” you said proudly, holding up a hand. Peter grinned beside you, slapping it with his own in a high-five. “Groot is gonna love it. Storytime was always better in a fort when I was a kid.”

“Wanna try it out?”

You grinned widely at him, and the two of you dropped to your knees at the same time. Peter held the ‘door’ open for you, letting it drop closed behind him as he crawled inside after you. You turned to collapse happily among the cushions, sighing contentment as you stretched out languidly. Peter took a similar position beside you; the two of you barely fit inside, his shoulder bumping against yours. You bent your knees and drew them up towards you to bring them inside the fort, and you hooked one over one of his. He had his bent as well, and your foot dangled a couple of inches off the floor. He tucked his hand behind his head, looking over at you with an amused smile.

“Comfy?”

Peter looked up, considering the fort. “Y’know, I don’t think we made it big enough.”

You furrowed your brow, turning your head to look at him. “What d’you mean? Groot and I will be fine in here.”

He shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, we barely fit in here as it is…”

“Why, Peter Ignatius Quill,” you said teasingly, laughing when he cocked an eyebrow at you. “Are you saying that you want to join us for story time?”

“You know that’s not my middle name, right?”

“I blanked.” you admitted with a shrug. “What is it?”

He laughed loudly, the sound breaking through the peaceful bubble the two of you had created between the blankets. “It’s Jason!”

“My bad,” you giggled, shying away from his as he reached out to poke you in the side. “It was the first thing I thought of!”

“Think of something cooler next time!”

“Alright, alright…” you surrendered, turning your head towards him and reaching over to prod his arm with a fingertip. “But don’t dodge the question. Are you – the big, bad, space pirate leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy—saying you would like to come read children’s stories with me and Groot?”

“It is such a turn on when you start describing me like that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, I get all tingly, all the way down to my—"

“You’re still avoiding the question.” you said pointedly, cutting him off. He breathed a quiet chuckle as you did, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. “Story time?”

“Well, why not?”

“You know we’ve moved past picture books, right?”

He smacked you lazily on the bicep with the back of his hand by way of retort, letting his hand fall back to rest on his stomach. He interlocked his fingers above his belt buckle, the picture of casual relaxation. Your leg was still thrown over his, your calf pressed against his inner thigh. His gaze returned to the canopy above, and you studied the angle of his jaw absentmindedly, your eyes tracing along the dusting of strawberry blonde stubble that seemed darker in the muted light. “I spent a good chunk of my quality time building this stupid thing, I should get some use out of it.”

You raised a cynical brow, amused. The two of you never could help but poke at each other with childish barbs and banter, maybe even more so than the two of you dished it out to the other members of the crew. Maybe it was a reflex at this point, but it was still always entertaining. You affected an offended tone as you spoke again, even with a smile on your face. “Well, if you think it’s so stupid, why’d you spend all this time on it?”

“It’s not…” Peter sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry. It’s not stupid. It’s just…”

Your brow furrowed as you watched him struggle to find the words. You sobered, surprised that he hadn’t caught you in your joke. Instead, he seemed… flustered. “Quill?”

“You know, I forgot about it ‘til now.” he said ruefully, almost disbelievingly. He raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair. “…I used to build these when I was a kid.”

“Yeah…” you said slowly, confused. “I mean, a lot of kids did…”

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, I mean when my Mom got sick.”

“Oh.”

It was all you could think to say.

“It got… it got really hard, once she was hospitalized.” he said, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. His voice was soft and thoughtful, almost as if he’d forgotten you were there. Even so many years later, you could hear the thread of pain in his words. He reached up to touch his fingers to the edge of one of the blankets. “I built one of these one night, and basically never left it. I’d tuck myself away in it for hours with my Walkman and just ignore the rest of the world. Got to the point where I didn’t even come out for meals; Grandpa had to drag me outta there every day for school.”

You hesitated a moment before reaching over slowly and covering his hand with your own. “Peter…”

His eyebrows twitched upward as he looked down at your hand in surprise. You felt his hand turn under yours, his fingers smoothing almost carefully over your skin as he took hold of it. He looked up, turning his head to meet your eye. “You never call me that.”

You could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your fingers with each breath he took. The edge of his belt buckle brushed against your knuckle; a stark coldness compared to the surprising heat of his body.  You meant your response to be cavalier, dismissive even, at this sudden change in the atmosphere between the two of you. Instead, it came out softly, barely more than a murmur. “Sure, I do.”

He shook his head, a small smile curving at one side of his mouth. Even though neither of you had moved, he seemed so much closer to you now, the two of you shoulder to shoulder. “No, you don’t. Not really. Closest you’ve ever gotten was tacking ‘Ignatius’ on it just now.”

You shook your head in amusement, smiling back at him. “It was a joke.”

His thumb brushed rhythmically over the back of your hand, his head turning to look back up at the blankets above you. “Sure it was.”

“What do you care?” you said teasingly. “I didn’t think you liked your first name so much, Star Lord.”

He shrugged the shoulder pressed against yours, meeting your eye again. His eyes were dark in the dull light, shining with amusement and affection. They were almost magnetic, and you felt warmth rise in your cheeks as your gaze fell to his lips briefly. You felt his hand squeeze yours, and there was a charming, knowing quirk to his lips that made your heartbeat quicken.

You swallowed as he leaned towards you, and when he spoke, his lips were barely an inch from yours, his voice was so soft that you almost didn’t hear it over your own heart.

“I don’t mind it so much when you say it.”

Peter’s lips met yours, brushing against them in a chaste, whisper of a kiss. It was soft and gentle, his nose bumping against yours. His tongue touched your bottom lip as you parted them to breathe, his thumb still smoothing circles over your hand. You felt a shiver tingle its way up your spine, and his other hand came up to slide over the leg still thrown over his as he rolled onto his side to face you. His tongue slid languidly over yours, and you could feel his smile as he kissed you more deeply.

You exhaled shakily against his lips as his hand smoothed up your thigh, and he gave a light snicker as you parted, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Apparently you really like it.” you said after a moment, your voice unsteady. He grinned, his hand still trailing slowly up your leg, and your breath caught as it teased down to your inner thigh. He moved to kiss you again, but you pressed your free hand to his chest. “Peter.”

He smiled softly and reached up to tuck hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “Yeah?”

“What exactly are we doing?”

He smirked, his face moving towards yours again. “Want me to draw you a diagram?”

Peter kissed you again, his hand on the side of your neck. You let it linger for a moment, your fingers curling in the front of his shirt and tugging him closer. Peter responded eagerly, his hand moving down to take hold of your hip and pulling you towards him. You rolled onto your side, and Peter slung your leg up over his hip, his hand sliding up the back of it. It lingered just below the curve of your ass, gripping your leg almost possessively.

You felt his hips press suggestively into yours, and you couldn’t help but whimper against his lips, your hand tugging at the hair at the back of his head. Peter chuckled as you did, and you pulled away, embarrassed by your reaction.

You moved your hand to his shoulder, avoiding his gaze and looking down at his chest. You took a steadying breath, willing your heart to stop pounding. “Peter.”

You could feel a quiet laugh in his chest, his hand moving up to your waist. You shivered as his fingers ghosted up under your shirt to tease at bare skin. “Y/N.”

Your lips parted, intent on questioning him again… to ask what you were doing, where this sudden change in your friendship had come from… to ask what would happen later, if you didn’t stop. But then you felt the gentle, affectionate brush of his lips against your forehead, and suddenly, you didn’t feel the need to talk anymore. Instead, you met his eyes for a moment before you kissed him again, cupping his cheek in your hand.

Peter smiled into the kiss, the hand on your hip moving to the small of your back, urging you closer to him. The cold metal of his belt buckle was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and your ran your other hand down his stomach to the hem of his shirt. He groaned lightly into your mouth as your fingers crept under his shirt to caress the smooth skin of his stomach. You traced your nails over the muscles, and they twitched in response.

His hand moved to your ass, squeezing it eagerly and urging you closer. Peter slung his hips into yours, and you whimpered into his kiss at the feeling of him hardening against your thigh. Your hand moved to his side, and he broke the kiss with a light laugh, his face falling to the crook of your neck.

You grinned widely. “Are you ticklish?”

“Pfft, no!” he scoffed obnoxiously, wriggling away from you as you ran your fingertips across his waist again. “You—”

He caught hold of your hands, forcing you onto your back and straddling your waist. He pinned them on either side of your head, a cocksure smirk on his face as he looked down at you. “Now you’re in trouble.”

You snickered, wetting your lips with your tongue. You pushed your hips up into his suggestively. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, Star Lord?”

His grin widened, interlacing his fingers with yours and moving them above your head as he bent down towards you. His nose brushed lightly against yours, his mouth hovering teasingly above yours. You arched up to kiss him again, and he moved out of reach playfully, instead trailing kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck.

He lingered over your pulse point, and your eyes closed, a light moan escaping you as he sucked a mark into your skin. “Oh, well, that just sounded… cute.” He murmured against your skin, releasing your hands, and tugging your shirt up over your stomach. “But, that’s not what I’m looking for.”

He moved down to press kisses down your stomach, and you ran a hand through his hair. He leaned into it as he undid your jeans with practiced ease, and your hand tightened reflexively as he tugged them roughly down your thighs. Goosebumps erupted over your legs, his nose ghosting over your stomach and his teeth catching the waistband of your underwear and snapping it against your skin teasingly.

“And what exactly are you— Oh!” you jerked under him as he forced your legs apart and bit your inner thigh, his hands gripping tightly at your hips as he lathed his tongue over the mark he left behind.

“Closer…”

“I’m not ticklish, Quill.” you told him, rolling your eyes as you caught on to what he was trying to do. “But I— fuck, Peter!”

You bucked under him as he pushed your underwear to the side and rolled his tongue against your clit, your hand tightening in his hair. He snickered at your reaction, the sound devolving into a groan as your nails scraped against his scalp, his stubble agitating the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he brought you undone with his tongue.

The lights danced behind your eyelids as Peter slid two fingers inside you; tucked away in your little oasis and feeling everything he did to you made your heart flutter and your stomach tighten. You grabbed at the pillow under your head as you rolled your hips up into him, your chest heaving. “Pete—fuck, don’t… God, I’m gonna—”

He sucked on your clit and you came, arching up against him and your thighs clenching around him. You moaned aloud as you did, too loud for your little hideaway, eyes squeezed shut and toes curling. Peter continued to slowly pump his fingers inside you as he moved up to kiss your hip softly before straightening into a kneel between your legs. He watched his hand, his thumb circling lightly over your clit. He broke into a wide smirk as you twitched at the sensation, his eyes travelling up your body to your face. “Yeah, you love it.”

You bumped your knee hard against his side by way of retort and he finally withdrew his hand with a grin, holding your gaze as he licked his fingers clean. “You’re an ass.”

“Yeah?” he ran a hand up your thigh, his other unbuckling his belt. “What are you gonna do about it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbow, fisting a hand in his shirt and dragging him down for a kiss. It was long, and languid, his tongue sliding over yours, his hand on your hip and his thumb hooked in the waistband of your underwear. You broke away to tug at his shirt pointedly and he straightened to pull it off. Your eyes followed the muscles of his arms, your hand smoothing over a pectoral as he leaned down to kiss you again. He dropped the shirt to the side, moving to remove yours as well.

You stopped him, urging him back down onto the cushions. You swung a leg over his hips slowly, running your hands down his chest before pulling off your shirt. Peter’s eyes dropped heatedly to your chest as you unclipped your bra, his lips parting. He looked almost awed as he stared up at you, his face cast in shadows by the dull lights above you. Your spine tingled at his expression, and you held his gaze as you ran your hands over your chest and rolled your hips slowly over his.

Peter’s head fall back against the pillows at the sensation, his eyes closing and a soft groan slipping between his lips. The sound was intoxicating, as was the feeling of the hard length of his erection pressing up against you. You bit your lip, brow creased as you slowly continued to grind against him. His hands slid up over your thighs, squeezing them rhythmically with every roll of your hips.

You scratched your nails lightly down his stomach before unfastening his pants and wrapping your fingers around his cock. His breath caught as you did, leaving him in a shaky sigh as you stroked him, moved your underwear to the side and slowly sunk down onto his erection. “Jesus Christ, Y/N…”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, offering him a cocky smile of your own. “You love it.”

He laughed quietly, taking hold of your hips as you began to fuck yourself onto him slowly. You leaned forward to take hold of his biceps, enjoying the feel of the bulging muscles under your hands as you rode him. He encouraged you to grind against his pelvic bone and you whimpered; you could feel him stretching you wonderfully, each corkscrew of your hips sending sparks dancing up your lower back.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered, watching you with half-lidded eyes. He ran a hand up your side to your ribs, his thumb resting along the curve of the underside of your breast. “You’re like… fuck, you’re like…”

“Having trouble finding the words there, Star Lord?” you teased quietly, your head lolling back, your eyes closed. You moaned as he pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, exhaling slowly as you down to press kisses to his collarbone. His hand moved to your hair, bunching by your ear, and you felt his lips brush the top of your head. “None of my blood is exactly rushing to my brain right now.”

“I’m flattered,” you joked lightly, nipping playfully at his throat.

“But I can say: you call me that again, and this’ll be over a lot quicker than it should be.”

You giggled into his neck, kissing him headily before straightening again. You ran your hands up your sides, bouncing languidly on top of him. Each rise and fall had him sliding against your g-spot, and you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back as his hand returned to your sex. He circled your clit with his thumb and you moaned brokenly.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got fucking fantastic tits, sweets?”

You whined, cupping your breasts and squeezing. Your hips jerked as he pinched your clit, and he swore, thrusting up into you. “Somehow, it – oh, fuck, Peter—”

“God, you’ve got the sweetest voice,” he sat up, his free hand ghosting up your side and gliding over your chest. You shivered at the feeling of it, falling against him, your hips never stopping. Peter’s fingers quickened on your clit as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and he murmured in your ear as you tightened around him, an intoxicating mix of sweet nothings and cursing. You ran your fingers through his hair, clinging to him s you felt your orgasm approach.

Peter wrapped his other arm around your waist and bit down on your shoulder, and you came with a cry, hips stuttering against his as each wave of it hit.

Peter hooked his fingers under your chin and raised it gently from where your face was buried against his neck, pressing a kiss to your temple… your cheek… your forehead… the tip of your nose… as you came down, before cupping your face in his hand and capturing you in another breath-stealing kiss.

You rode him unsteadily as your hips shuddered with aftershocks, your thighs squeezing around him. Peter grunted against your lips, his moan muffled as he came, still buried inside you.

“Y/N…”

You kissed him again, your chest heaving against his, eyes fluttering open as you finally caught your breath. “Mmm?”

He grinned at you, pushing hair out of your face with a careful hand. “Yeah. You love it.”

You shoved at his chest, smiling as he laughed in response. You climbed off of his lap shakily, your face warm. “You’re such a—”

Peter let himself fall back against the pillows again, refastening his pants but not bothering with his belt. “Heartthrob? Casanova? Sexual—”

“Deviant?”

Peter smirked, reaching up to ruffle your hair. You ducked away from him, smacking at his arm as you found your bra and clipped it back into place. “Where’re you going?”

“The last thing we need is for the crew to come back and find us like this,” you pointed out, tugging on your pants and the first shirt you grabbed. “Rocket’ll never let us hear the end of it, and Drax’ll be… Drax.”

“That’s a good look on you.” Peter said, his hands tucked behind his head. You looked down at yourself; you’d pulled on his shirt instead of your own. You flushed, but he caught hold of your wrist before you could pull it off again. “Leave it.”

You smiled down at him softly, tucking hair behind your ear. “Isn’t that just as obvious?”

Peter’s hand moved down to your hand, delicately interlacing his fingers with yours. “Would it be so bad?”

“You… you want the others to know about this?”

He pushed himself up onto his elbow, his free hand sliding against the side of your neck and giving you an affectionate smile before pulling you down for a soft, lingering kiss.

.

.

.

.

tags: @peterquillthecutest @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink​ @s0ftness​ @bombardia​

if you would like to be tagged in future stories for quill or any other character, please let me know :) don’t forget to like/comment and please reblog :)

[indulge-that-sin]

A Social Experience

Characters: GN!MC, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Mammon

Wordcount: 1700

Tags: Fluff, Domestic, Bonding Activities, Humor

(No spoilers for latter lessons, but takes place fairly late in the game.)

***

"--a gross, shut-in otaku like me!" Levi finished, on the all too familiar note.

Usually by this point you would already be launching into reassurances that he certainly wasn't gross, and shouldn't talk about himself like that, but this time there was nothing but a silence that bounced off the walls, damning and louder than any words.

You reached into your bag of chips, removed a single potato chip, and ate it as you tilted your head in thought. Levi took your silence like a slap in the face, and recoiled, his face already wavering. The sound of your chewing was distressingly loud in contrast.

You finished chewing and swallowed. "I mean, is that even true anymore?" you asked after a nerve-wracking length of time.

Levi's expression twisted more into confusion than hurt. "Huh?!" 

"Don't you kind of lose your hikikomori credentials if you become popular and people start coming to spend time with you all the time?"

"That's not-- I'm not-- You don't count!" Levi sputtered.

"Oh, I don't count, huh," you repeated, putting a hand to your chest and dramatically feigning heartbreak.

Levi looked abashed now. "Th-that's not what I meant," he rushed to add.

"I know what you meant," you said. "Give it an hour."

Now Levi tilted fully into confusion.

"Give what an hour?"

"My point to be made," you said, and placed your D.D.D. onto the lip of the bathtub, out of your own reach. It was also clearly visible to Levi as you both sat on beanbags in front of his TV, next to the bath tub. "An hour," you repeated in a portentous video game narrator voice.

Levi scowled and picked up his controller again, turning back to his game. But his reactions were off, now. His character moved jerkily around the screen, doubling back and taking wrong turns on the 8-bit map as Levi's mood roiled with the strangeness of the conversation.

You continued eating your chips slowly, savoring the taste of the limited edition novelty flavor that Levi had generously acquired for you. He'd tried to pass it as a coincidence, but he didn't really know anyone else who unironically enjoyed the taste of cream and devilradish chips.

Not even half an hour passed before there was a knock on the door. Levi asked for the password on reflex. Surprisingly, from the other side of the door came a sigh, and then Asmo's melodious voice reciting the string of nerd trivia that Levi had set as a password for him ever since they became unlikely allies for the Bloody Moon competition.

"Come in, I guess," Levi replied, giving you a long look. Your D.D.D. was still on the edge of the bathtub, untouched as you sat there elbow-deep in greasy chips. You couldn't have called anyone over. And yet, was this what you expected to happen?

"Give it forty more minutes now," you said low.

Asmo fluttered into the room, like a passing breeze bringing in the smell of perfume. 

"Oh, there you are, darling, I was wondering where you were," he said, face lit up as he saw you.

He sat uninvited next to you in the beanbag, and you scooted over to make space for him. Levi would have complained, except moving to make room for Asmo meant you shuffled closer to Levi instead, so he ended up biting his tongue.

"What do you want?" Levi grit out.

"Must I want something?" Asmo asked, "Is it not enough that I give my adorable brother the opportunity to entertain me?"

"He's bored," you translated.

"I'm soooo bored," Asmo whined, his shoulders rolling in a full-body sigh. But he perked up as he leaned forward to look at both you and Levi. "But what about all this? Mind if I join the fun~?"

"Let's find a game Asmo can play," you suggested. 

"If you'd like," Asmo acquiesced with a shrug, indicating he'd had some other kind of fun in mind.

Levi gave you another sidelong glance, full of suspicion, but his head was out of the game he was playing anyway, so he exited and pulled up his game library instead. Deciding which game to choose was the trickier part, because Asmo had terrible reflexes, and an attention span worse than Mammon's when it came to playing anything. This ruled out anything requiring twitch reflexes or understanding complicated rules. 

Asmo, meanwhile, scrunched his nose at your chips.

"All that grease and salt is going to be awful for your complexion, darling," he said, clearly disapproving.

"I'm not rubbing it on my face," you said, and defiantly sucked crumbs off your thumb. Levi nearly choked at the sound, which was borderline obscene. The little sound Asmo made in response did nothing to contradict this impression. Levi managed to swallow back the wave of envy before it came undammed by concentrating on the list of games on the screen. He still had to make a selection.

A farming sim seemed like a safe enough choice; something bright and frivolous. Just like Asmo.

Levi passed the controller as the title screen came up, and Asmo, to his credit, managed to choose the 'New Game' option without messing anything up. Yet. When the screen went dark as the game loaded, Asmo couldn't resist looking at his reflection and primping his hair a bit. Levi did resist snorting and rolling his eyes, but it was a close thing.

The character creation screen popped up with its myriad of options, and Asmo gasped in delight.

"Oh! This is a good start! Much better than getting shoved into some ugly gray metal suit at the beginning," Asmo remarked cheerfully. He cycled through the hair and clothing options with the speed and deftness of a veteran player. 

"Hey, beginner armor in RPGs can be colorful too," Levi protested.

"But not fashionable, apparently," Asmo sniffed.

Asmo had only just barely settled on a hairstyle and color combination he thought was adequately cute, and was scrunching his nose at the shirt options, when another knock came at the door.

"Come in," you called out, before Levi could demand a password.

Mammon's head popped through the door, and he pulled a face when he saw you there, just like he always did when you were in somebody else's company and not his.

"Eh? What're you doing here?" Mammon asked, closing the door behind him and sidling up to the three of you. 

He craned his neck and squinted at the screen, like he was verifying that whatever you were doing, it passed his requirements for propriety. Between knowing the kinds of games Levi had in his collection, and seeing Asmo there, maybe he was not completely unjustified in some suspicion, but it still made you want to roll your eyes.

"We're watching Asmo create his character," you explained.

Mammon guffawed. "Betcha been watching him do that for a while!"

"Fifteen minutes, more or less," you said. "But to be fair, Levi takes way longer to create characters."

"It's an important step!" Levi sputtered.

"Especially with the quality of the options," Asmo added. "Look at this. A purple T-shirt with a pink butt on it?"

"That's a peach!" Levi protested, his face turning red.

"I know what a butt looks like, Levi," Asmo replied tartly.

"Wait, wait, Asmo, that black one with the gold design ain't half bad! Go back an' pick that one." 

"That gaudy thing! Absolutely not!"

"Mammon, why are you even here?" Levi asked, now completely exasperated with his brothers.

"I was just seein' if we were still on for Devil Kart against those Purgatory Hall guys. We need ta win back our honor, ya know."

"Do we?" Levi asked suspiciously, "or are you running a betting pool again?"

Mammon made a good show of appearing indignant at the very suggestion, but he'd hit you up earlier today about whether you'd be willing to take a dive in the second half of Candy Mountain in exchange for a lump grimm sum, so you knew too much about the subject to defend Mammon without exposing him.

"Can't I be showin' an interest without ya gettin' all suspicious a' me? What makes me so weird, huh? Asmo here doesn't even play games, and I don't see ya hasslin' him!"

"I do too play games," Asmo protested.

"Really? 'Cause only thing I ever saw you play was that stupid matching thing with the gems, and I ain't seen much of even that lately."

You knew which game Mammon meant, because it was the only game app you'd ever seen on Asmo's phone. You'd watch him play in moments of boredom, swiping his screen with a completely blank look of concentration as he matched the colors of the gems in rows and columns, and they burst into sparkles. 

"Ugh, of course you haven't seen me play, I finished it. I have to wait until they add new levels."

"Didn't that game have like ten thousand levels already?" you asked. "You mean you passed all of them?"

"Eleven thousand and sixty five," Asmo corrected primly. "And yes, I did them all. I have to wait until they add more now. I asked."

The room fell into shocked silence at this. Even Levi looked mildly dyspeptic at the thought of completing eleven thousand levels of a match-3 game. You'd played it yourself for a while, and past the two hundredth level, the number of complicated mechanics the game introduced had completely broken you.

"Anyway," Mammon said after a few more beats of silence. He gestured to the screen, where Asmo was flicking between two shirt options. "This thing got co-op or somethin'?"

You finished your chips, and folded away the empty bag. When you picked up your D.D.D., fifty five minutes had passed.

"Still five minutes left," you muttered to Levi while Asmo and Mammon bickered over the choice of pants. "Wanna play the long odds and see if the twins show up too?"

"Okay, okay, you've made your point," Levi grumbled. "I let way too many people waltz in here. I'll have to tighten security."

But Levi's heart wasn't really in it, and when he turned to watch Mammon try to swipe Asmo's controller while the latter loudly protested, there was almost a smile threatening to spread over Levi's face.

[mickeyhenrysgf]

Pick Me

Summary: After making a tough decision, you still get to have your way with  both of your boyfriends. It’s just virtual.

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Steve x reader

Warnings: smut! heavy use of daddy kink, spanking, degrading language, slight humiliation, voyeurism, unprotected sex

Your two men stared at you from across the living area. Bucky and Steve were both chosen to go on a mission but one could stay behind. Tony left it up to them. It would be a small and quick. Therefore, they didn’t need more people than what the aircraft could handle. Ever since the pandemic hit, even the avengers were taking the necessary precautions on limiting their travel. If the less could travel, the better.

You looked at both of your boyfriends in distress. They decided to leave the decision up to you. Their favorite girl. Whoever you chose would stay at home with you, while the other would go. If any one of them got hurt, it wouldn’t be your fault. Not even a scratch. They promised that the mission only consisted of surveillance and reporting.

But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was you didn’t want them to think you were picking favorites. Because, you loved them both... truly.

Steve stood up and sat on the couch next to you. “Sweetie... who do you want to stay with you?” He hummed lightly, rubbing your thighs innocently.

“She wants to stay with me, obviously” Bucky stated in a cocky tone, flashing the both of you a smile. You bit your bottom lip as Bucky winked at you.

“I-I don’t know-”

“Sweetheart. Yes you do... come on. Is it me?” Steve asked softly as he leaned in and pressed a wet kiss on your collarbone. You shuddered lightly, your hands running through his hair as a reflex.

“Woah—! Hey! You’re kissing her!” Bucky announced, standing up from across the room and heading over to you.

“Yes, she’s my girl...”

Steve’s lips found their way from your collarbone to your neck.

“Our girl.” Bucky corrected, sitting down on the opposite side as you were squished in between two super soldiers. Your boyfriends.

Bucky tucked some loose strands of hair behind your ear, as he looked at you. “Doll, one of us needs to start packing our bags. We leave tomorrow morning. Who is it?” Bucky’s lips now kissed your neck as well.

You felt overwhelmed. The two of them sending you over the edge for one little answer. It was too much.

“Listen Daddy takes such good care of you... don’t you love it when Daddy buries his face in that sweet little pussy?” Bucky whispered in your ear before kissing that sweet spot on your neck. Your toes already curling.

“Yes...” Bucky smiled brightly at your answer. He’s got you right where he wanted.

“I can hear you-“ Steve rolled his eyes. You almost forget about their super hearing. You giggled softly, your head falling onto Steve’s shoulder. His hands combing through your hair. Wonder, if they could also smell your arousal...

“And might I add, I’m the one who wrecks this pussy every morning and night. Grandpa over here complains about how tired he is” Steve stated.

“You son of a bitch”

You rolled your eyes pushing away from them both, standing up. Steve & Bucky quickly shut their mouths and looked up at you.

“I’m tired of hearing the two of you bicker over this. I just want to get over with it. So, I choose Bucky.”

The two men look at each other before Bucky breaks out into a wide smile. Steve rolls his eyes at him. He didn’t care. He knew you loved him just the same as you loved Bucky. They promised each other that whoever you chose, they wouldn’t take it to heart. Plus, whoever you didn’t choose was going to fuck you all night long.

“Thank you, baby girl, I always knew you loved daddy’s cock a little more” Bucky said playfully and Steve shoved him away, lightly scoffing as he stood up from the couch. His hands pulled you in.

“Come on, sweetie. Help daddy pack, gonna miss you...” you smiled and wrapped your arms around Steve’s neck before he hooked his arm under your ass and picked you up swiftly.

As Steve carried you to the room, you stuck your tongue out at Bucky in a mocking tone. Before you could even put your tongue back where it belonged, Bucky was jumping out his seat and slapping your ass as the three of you went to go help Steve pack.

“Baby, help! This thing is not working” Bucky grumbled as his hands tapped the laptop multiple times.

You walked over to where Bucky was sitting on the couch and sat on his lap. You giggled softly once you noticed his frustrated face.

“Whatcha tryna do ?” You looked at Bucky’s screen.

Poor Connection. The video will resume automatically when the connection improves.

Bucky sighed at the message as he wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your shoulders.

“Video chat with Steve” he mumbled against your skin. You looked at the laptop and quickly found the problem.

“You have to turn the WiFi on, silly.” You explained and Bucky pretended like he knew what that meant. He watched in awe as you pressed a few more buttons on the keyboard. Before he could even speak, Steve’s face appeared on the small screen.

“Steve!” You gushed brightly and Bucky smiled too. It was supposed to be a surprise but technology was never his strong suit.

“Hey, baby girl...” Steve smirked slightly leaning against his chair. He was in a cabin hideout, the one thing he asked for Tony was WiFi. And well, his wish was thankfully granted.

“Now, who figured this whole video chat out. I know it wasn’t grandpa.” You laughed softly, and shook your head.

“It was our princess... of course. She’s so smart.” Bucky bragged, kissing your temple and you blushed.

“And has our princess been a good girl?” Steve questioned and you bit your bottom lip, watching the two boys exchange words.

“She sure has. Tell Steve how many orgasms daddy gave you last night...” the cool metal from Bucky’s hand sent goosebumps as it slid down your shorts but to his surprise you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

Shit. You forgot about that. Your breath hitched lightly as Bucky’s movements stopped. It wasn’t your fault. You were sore from last night & couldn’t even bear to put on underwear.

“What is it?” Steve asked again and Bucky chuckled darkly. His fingers rubbing against you folds and collecting your wetness. You shivered, your hips already bucking up into his hands. Bucky’s hard-on growing beneath you.

“Why don’t you tell daddy what’s goin’ on? Or maybe you’d like to show him...” Bucky cooed as a finger easily slipped into your hole. Your moans covered the silence in the room, your head falling back onto his shoulder. Steve already clicked the two things together. 

“Daddy is touching me...” you sucked in your bottom lip and Bucky added in a second finger, stretching you wider as he groaned. You heard a belt being unbuckled and thrown onto the floor.

Then, you heard it. Steve’s grunt.

“No, you know that’s not it. Don’t start acting dumb, tell him” Bucky slapped your cunt harshly making you yelp out. Shit, he was angry now. You could hear on the other end of the video, Steve sucking in a breath and his phone moved lightly. He was touching himself.

“I didn’t wear underwear today...” you stutter through your teeth, scared to look at the camera. You felt tears welled up in your eyes from the pain, pleasure, and embarrassment.

“Did Bucky say you could act like a little slut today?” Steve challenged, pulling his cock out from his underwear & began to stroke himself slowly.

“No, daddy! I’m sorry!” Bucky laughed from the tone of your voice, instantly spreading your legs wider. Your ass grinded against his painful hard-on straining against his sweats as he continued to pump his fingers into you.

“She’s so fucking wet— I’m thinking this was her plan all along.” Bucky pulled his fingers out of you, sucking on your wetness and then shoved his fingers inside your mouth. You moaned heavily around his fingers, the taste of your wetness and his salvia evident.

“Fuck. Let me see her pussy...” Bucky smirked at Steve’s words, pulling his fingers out your mouth and you nervously looked around.

They’ve seen you multiple times, but you never used any type of cameras or recording devices during intimate moments. This was new. Bucky leaned forward and and angled the laptop to your dripping pussy.

“Isn’t this the prettiest little pussy you’ve ever seen, Steve?” Bucky narrated as his fingers ran against your folds, before spreading your lips. You felt exposed but it was erotic, especially hearing Steve’s moans on the other end. You were a moaning mess, your breath getting faster, and he wasn’t even doing much.

“You know Daddy has to punish you, right? I’m not there but Bucky is...” Bucky pulled the laptop back, showing his face and yours again. You were too nervous to actually turn your head and look at Bucky. However, as you looked at the camera, he had a smirk plastered on his face.

“Because you wanna be a slut and walk around the house with no panties, you’re going to ride Daddy’s cock for me on camera, right now” Steve demanded as Bucky quickly stood you up and slapped your ass harshly. His hands wasting no time in pulling down his sweats and boxers to expose his angry cock. It was fully hard and already had the perfect amount of pre-cum where you wanted to get on you knees and kitten lick it right off. Your legs pressed against each other at the sight.

“Daddy is not waiting all day... strip” Bucky barked causing you to flinch heavily as you quickly took off your shirt and then shorts.

“Look at my little girl, only if she didn’t act like a fucking slut— go ahead, sit on your daddy’s dick” you heard Steve speak and turned to look at the camera.

Steve was naked. Fuck. He even positioned the camera, so you could see his cock as well. You didn’t even notice how long you were staring until Bucky slapped your ass again. His arms wrapped around your waist and sunk you down. The two of you moaning out. The sudden burn caused you to wince and close your eyes for a moment.

Bucky’s lips pressed and sucked against your skin as he began to thrust up into you. His thumb flicking your clit which only increased the pleasure. “Baby... eyes up here.” Steve snapped. Bucky grabbed your jaw forcing you to look forward. Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you saw your other boyfriend stroking himself. His cheeks were flushed. Head thrown back. Abs collecting sweat. It was utter blissfulness.

“I can’t believe my baby is such a slut, You like Steve watching us fuck, huh?” You moaned, clenching around his cock in response, moving your hips to match Bucky’s thrusts. “Tightest pussy in the whole goddamn world, Fuck-!”

“Shit—! you’re going to let Daddy fuck you too when he gets home, yeah?” Steve teased, thrusting into his hand.

You nodded, your mouth opening and eyes rolling back as Bucky began to pick up the speed. “I think Steve asked you a question.” Bucky slapped your cunt once more causing you to dig your nails into his thighs.

“Yes, daddy. You can fuck me whenever you want...”

“That’s my good girl” Steve grunted lowly. “Fuck- You close, Bucky? I’m bout to cum and I need to see my pretty girl cum with us...” Bucky nodded heavily, licking a stripe up your neck, his thumb pressing down against your clit.

“Daddy... I’m close—“ you announced, turning your head to look at Bucky and he moved in, kissing you deeply. It was all tongue, teeth, & salvia which only caused Steve to become chaotic on the other end. The sound of skin slapping against each other and his throaty moans increased by the second. Steve was getting off from the show you and Bucky put on for him.

“Cum with us” Bucky mumbled against your lips, as his thrusts become sporadic, the familiar knot in your stomach forming. With one look at Steve on the screen, you lost it, the wave crashing as you clenched and came around Bucky. Bucky was close behind, his thrusts stopping and filling you up to the brim before leaning against the couch. Steve watched everything unfold, saving himself until the last minute. And to your surprise, you got to witness as he unleashed ropes of cum across his chest, abs, and face.

“Holy shit...” Bucky announced and chuckled softly. I guess he was also watching Steve. The only thing you could hear now was the three of you panting. Bucky pressed soft kisses on your neck and shoulders as he occasionally whispered soft affirmations in your ear. You leaned back and closed your eyes, listening to Bucky’s soft voice, the two of you waiting for Steve to regain his energy.

“You’re an asshole” you heard Steve finally mumble as he grabbed a tissue and started to wipe his cum off his chiseled chest and then chin.

“Round 2, anyone?” You playfully slapped Bucky’s chest and he laughed, shrugging his shoulders. You forgot he had stamina for days. You heard the laptop beep, and as you looked closely, the battery was dying.

“Battery’s about to die...”

“That’s okay, doll. We can use our phones.” Bucky winked and you heard Steve laugh on the other end.

[askthekuvaqbrothers]

I know you're still working on other prompts, but here me out... the boys meeting Wenzel and Toni for the first time. :)

“Have you considered schooling?”

Hermes withheld his mumbling, “I've…. Considered.”

Taking a tea break with Gizmo had become a regular occurrence during work, letting the two talk without having to take up more time in the day with official meetings. The town's service provider was a trusted confidant to Hermes, and not just because of patient confidentiality.

He'd already offered so much assistance in the wild world of child raising, and he'd probably continue to as the boys got older. There were just a few suggestions that Hermes couldn't see working. Like that one.

“See, I've tried a little bit of home learning, but only Cletus is taking to it. The other two lose interest quickly, cause disruptions, and before you know it the three are off doing something else."

“Well, a structured environment like a classroom, and peers of similar age, might just be the thing to change their behaviour. There aren’t many children in Kuvaq, but perhaps if they could make friends with one or two others?”

The encounter with Burnert and his daughter Toni came to mind.

“Hmm.”

“Even just as a trial. And they know who to call if there's trouble.”

“Well...”

Gizmo poured him another cup, giving his best reassuring smile. He’d been so trusted in all matters around his sons, but he was also a great personal confidant. It must have been years since he’d been able to have someone he could talk with, intellectually, and trust to understand him.

“I suppose we can try.”

---------

“Yeah we're going to school!!" Rufus bounced around the house, bumping into furniture and his family alike. When he shoved into Cletus’ shoulder, the green-haired boy shoved back.

“I bet you don’t even know what a school is.”

“Maybe so! But it means we're going somewhere new, somewhere outside, right Dad?!”

“That’s right, and because we’re going out, I need you all to be on your best behaviour. Understand?”

They all nodded, each at different levels of enthusiasm, with Argus pointedly looking at the floor.

“Good. Now hold hands, and let's go see what school is like.”

Cletus took Hermes' hand, the old man hunching a little further so he didn’t have to reach too far, while Rufus took his free hand and Argus took the remaining one to stop any wandering fingers.They left their small house and made their way across town, heading out the gates and down towards a smaller walled area which has its own gates, and gate keeper, who greeted them warmly.

“Hello there, would you happen to be the Herald family?”

“Yes, I’m Hermes and these are my sons Cletus, Ruf- Rufus stop that.”

He was swinging his arms wildly, to which Cletus was resisting and Argus was competing against. A measured frown got them to calm the motions.

“Cletus, Rufus and Argus. They’ll be trialing school today.”

“Wonderful! I’m Gary, Kuvaq’s main teacher. Most other kids are here already, so if you’d like to come in.”

Gary pushed open the gates, revealing a large flat and open area that looked to have most hazards removed. A large rectangle was drawn in the centre, while off to the left were rows of tables and chairs placed in front of a large board. Towards the back was a standalone building with a large window and an awning, and to the right was another that had various extensions added onto it. There were several children of varying ages playing within the space, once of which Hermes noticed was Toni, who was with another girl looking at a cactus.

“Were you planning on staying for the lesson Mr Herald?”

“Oh, as much as I’d love to, I must get to work soon. Though if there’s any trouble-”

“Haha, don’t worry, Gizmo has informed me of the situation. I keep flare guns for communication just in case!”

Gray pulled the gun from the waistband of his pants, grinning, before slipping it back into place. He then cupped his hands around his mouth, calling out for the children to gather. Hermes knelt to address his sons.

“Alright, now please, be on your best behaviour-”

Rufus slapped a hand on his mouth.

“Shushushu… shu. You have n’uttn to be worried about!” He slung his arms over his brother's shoulders, dragging them into an unwanted huddle, “We’ll be good!”

With a hopeful smile, Hermes drew them all into a hug, praying that nothing would go wrong.

--------

“This is boooring.”

Gary was going on and on about something, which Rufus could only define as completely uninteresting. They were sitting at the tables with all the other kids, who were also at different levels of interest and very much not. Cletus had his eyes focused forward, but his frown was clearly aimed.

“Maybe to a simpleton like you, I on the other hand-”

“Come on, let's ditch.” Rufus turned enough to begin kicking Argus’s chair, “Hey, hey, hey.”

Cletus rolled his eyes, “He’s asleep.”

They stared at their brother, who looked to be staring ahead, but his mouth was slightly open and a tiny drip of drool was forming.

“Drat, how does he do that? I have to use little sticks to hold mine open!”

“Just still still for once and listen to the teacher.”

Rufus faced the front with a pout, swinging his legs. If he swung them far enough, he could see his toes on the other side of the table. And if he spilled down and stretched his toes, he could nudge the chair in front of him. Which he did.

Several times.

Until the kid who was seated in it spun around and growled at him.

‘Growling? Who does that?’

So obviously he growled back.

“Stop that! You’re being embarrassing.” Cletus hissed.

“Alright class,” Gary clapped his hands, “Now we’re going to pair off to do a task. I will give each group a letter, and you’ll have to think of a word that starts with that letter. Then, you need to figure out a way to have everyone guess the word, without talking!”

Whispers went around the group. Argus’ head fell forward before it snapped back to alert, giving Rufus a giggle, to which Cletus further shushed him.

“Now, the pairs will be-”

-----------

Argus kicked at the dirt, completely ignoring his work partner. He wasn’t interested in whatever they were supposed to be doing, he would much rather be playing with his brothers, or napping. Though he napped best around his brothers so really, he just wanted to be home.

“Hey! Are you even listening?!”

The boy he’d been paired with (‘S... Se..Sick? Sike?’) was around a head taller than him, and really thin, probably making him a few years older. Though that didn’t mean anything really, just that he probably shouldn’t look like he was about to throw a tantrum.

“This a baby task, meant for dumb little babies. Since I’m clearly not the baby here, then you should do all the work.”

Argus regarded him for a moment, then went back to kicking the dirt, gazing around the yard to see what the other two were doing.

“Hey, pay attention when someone talks to you!”

Rufus looked to be enjoying himself, waving wildly at the tiny kid he was with. Cletus was with the girl they’d met the other day, but he didn’t look comfortable-

There was a hand gripping the top of his head.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you?! Can’t do anything without your dumb brothers?”

Argus felt his eye twitch. The hand shook his head from side to side.

“I’m surprised I don’t hear rattling. Though, maybe afterwards I’ll go shake the other two to make sure you're not just sharing one bolt for a brain around.”

He grabbed the offending hand by the wrist in a vice grip, and looked up at the older boy.

“Don’t touch them.”

“Or you’ll what little baby-”

--------

Toni stared at Cletus.

Cletus… struggled to match her gaze.

It was really scrutinising.

He hadn’t even said anything to her yet, but here he was, stuck being judged by the girl who defeated all three of them.

“You really are a drago-”

Her expression became a glare.

“What was that?”

“...nothing.”

“Right.”

It softened again, and thankfully this time she turned her eyes to the sky.

“Sooo, what are we gonna pick?”

Cletus turned the metal square the teacher had given them in hand, until the line beneath the letter was at the bottom.

“We got the letter P.”

“Wow, I’m kinda surprised you knew to do that.”

“Someone in the family needs reading comprehension.”

“P… Hmmm…. Oh! I’ve got the perfect idea!”

“What, you’re not even going to ask for my thoughts?”

“I-” Toni was taken back a little by how offended he immediately looked, “...sure, what’s your idea?”

His smile was very proud, “Well, words are my speciality.”

Reading his fathers growing collection of books was one of his favourite things to do, making him much more versed in the world of words than either of his brothers, something he took great pride in.

“Well, for the letter P there is- plagiarize, prosecution, participate, profound, plutonium… pigeon.”

Toni just stared at him.

“And how exactly would we get people to guess those? I mean, maybe the last one, that would be funny, but the other ones...”

“If they can’t guess them, then we’re clearly too smart for them.”

She sighed.

“No, we’re going to do things my way. You just follow along.”

“Hu? But, you haven’t even said what word you thought of!”

She slung an arm over his shoulders, bringing him in close.

“Do as I say, or you’ll be playing ‘pigeon’, by yourself, in front of allll the other kids.”

He gulped, and nodded.

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

“Hi!”

“H-hi.”

Rufus bent over at a 90 degree angle, staring directly into the face of his work partner.

"You're reeeeally small!"

He almost looked to get smaller when he sighed, which was even funnier. He couldn’t stop the grin covering his face, but he did manage to stick out a hand.

“I’m Rufus!”

He didn’t reach for it right away, adjusting his glasses and checking how far away the teacher was, before he accepted the shake.

“Wenzel.”

His whole arm was rapidly shaken.

“That’s a funny name!”

When he was finally released, Wenzel had to also adjust his hair and coat to straighten himself out. He had no idea what to make of this new kid.

“You look like you’d know a thing or two about funny.”

“Yeah I know all about fun! You wanna play?”

“We should be doing what the teacher asked.”

“Oh, right. What was that again?”

Wenzel tilted his head, watching the other boy curiously. He opened his mouth, but then reconsidered, instead holding up the letter square. Rufus just blinked at it.

“We have to pick a word, remember?”

Recognition, finally, as he waved his arms about, “An eff word!”

“Yes. And it has to be something we can pretend for others to guess.”

“Let’s pick something exciting! With energy!”

“Hmmm, energetic, f… what about fire? Teacher didn't say anything against using sound effects, so maybe-"

Rufus gasped.

"Great idea! It's like I thought of it myself! Or maybe I did, and I beemed it into your head- AH!” He grabbed his little round head, "We're connected Wenzel. With you as my sidekick, I’ll be unstoppable.”

“Sidekick-?!”

“Shush, say no more. I know exactly what you’re thinking now, and yes, it’s a great honor. Now we’ll just need a few things to do the best presentation ever!”

Wenzel wriggled from Rufus’ grip, stepping out of his arms reach for now.

“What ‘things’?”

“Well first I need a g-”

“CHILDREN. THIS IS NOT AN APPROVED SCHOOL ACTIVITY.”

“FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!”

Both boys turned out the sudden shouting, looking to where all the other children were quickly gathering around Gary. Grabbing Wenzels hand, Rufus practically dragged his new friend to the scene, coming up behind their teacher to join the chanting mob.

“ARGH! Make him stop! Make him stop!!”

Gary was trying his hardest to simply push the two children apart, but when it proved useless he had to resort to using both hands to try to pry Argus’ teeth off the other boy's hand. When even that failed, Gary moved one hand to fumble for the flare gun, but had to drop it when Argus shifted his jaw to also bite down on the other invading fingers. Wenzel looked up at Rufus, who didn’t seem to care for the scene.

“Isn’t that your brother? Shouldn’t you do something?

Rufus was wholly focused on the gun on the floor, “Just what the presentation needs.”

“We won’t have a presentation if the teacher is hurt!” When he didn’t look convinced, Wenzel added, “Plus, you’d be showing off how cool you are to the whole class if you step in right now.”

Rufus finally looked at his short friend, then looked around the group. Cletus was watching beside Toni, both talking to each other, not looking like they were going to help out. He sighed, but looked a bit smug about it.

“Guess it all falls to Rufus to save the day.”

He stepped into the scene (while also grabbing the gun and slipping it into his belt pouch), and put himself between his brother and the others.

“Hey. You’re gonna ruin my chance to do a awesome presentation. Stop.”

He pinched Argus’ nose to get his attention. When they locked eyes, Rufus broke out his best pout, the one that alway got Dad to give him an extra snack. He knew that with any luck-

Argus let go, shaking his head to release Rufu’s grip, before spitting blood onto the ground. The boy he’d bit wailed, cradling his hand, and Gary took stock of his own injury, gaze flicking to the brothers in case of more violence. When it looked that Argus was now content with his actions, Gary stood tall to address the class.

“W-well, I hope you all take this as an example of what not to do during class. If you must bite someone, please do it off school property. Now, I’m going to take Sikke to see Gizmo. Argus, please see yourself to the timeout box,” He pointed to a little cage by the nearest building, “And the rest of you, keep working on your presentations until I return. Then we can all show off what amazing words we chose!”

With a grin, Gary left the school yard with Sikke.

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

“I’m so sorry-”

“Please Mr. Herald, all things considered, a little biting should have been expected. A new environment can be stressful and scary to young children. I should have kept a closer eye on how he was reacting to others.”

Hermes wrung his hands, but tried to copy Gary’s smile. Yes, Argus had apparently come within millimetres of taking Sikke’s pinky finger off, but other than that (and a few nicks on Gary’s hand) the boys hadn’t caused any trouble. The school day had been mostly a success.

He’d made the choice to return with Gary after Gizmo had explained the situation, so he could scold Argus while the event was still fresh, and be able to watch Rufus and Cletus’ presentations before they headed home.

As they entered the yard, they found most of the children just playing their own games. When Gary pointed out the timeout box, they did in fact find Argus sitting inside, watching Rufus who was using the cage to climb up onto the building's awning. Wenzel was already on it, trying to help pull him up.

“Okay children! Back to your desks, it’s time to present!”

Once they’d gotten the two off the awning, Hermes collected Argus in his arms and stood where they could watch. Rufus wouldn’t stop squirming in his seat as each pair went up, though it was Toni and Cletus who went before him.

“Just like I said.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Cletus held up the letter square, Toni cleared her throat.

“We got the letter P. Please try to guess our word.”

He squatted down to set the square aside, then curled his arms over his head and stayed in that position. Toni began to mime; acting like she was carrying something, setting it down, moving something up and down, picking the first again, but it was heavier now, then she shuffled next to Cletus and pretended to pour it on him. Cletus then slowly unfurled, until he was standing tall with his arms in the air, face dead serious.

Rufus lost it, almost falling from his seat with laughter.

To his credit, Cletus scowled, but remained in his position. There were 'umm's and 'ahh's around the group, until the girl Toni had been originally playing with raised her hand.

"Plant!"

"You got it An!"

Toni went over and gave her a high-five, while Cletus went back to his seat, head held high. He bopped Rufus on the head for good measure.

"Nice choice of word and wonderful display you two! Okay, the next pair is Wenzel and Rufus."

"Finally!"

He launched from his seat, dashing to the front with Wenzel following as close as his short legs would let him. When they were both facing the class, Wenzel held the letter square as high as he could while Rufus addressed everyone.

"Our letter was Fff! Watch and be amazed at our presentation!"

Hermes shivered.

"Why do I feel like…"

Wenzel began to mime clicking to rocks together.

"Chk, Chk, Chk-"

"BWOOSH!"

Rufus whipped out the flare gun, firing it at the nearby building, where the flare landed and ignited something on the awning. It only took seconds before something else caught, and quickly the whole thing was alight.

Rufus grinned widely.

"GUESS! Go on, GUESS!!"

Gary leapt forward, moving to usher the children away from the growing inferno, while Hermes stood in shock, feeling years slipping off his lifespan. When Argus began tugging at his collar, he got enough sense back to step away.

"I can guess this one. It's fire."

"... Good job. I think that's enough school for now. "

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 04 / all for us

summary: a few weeks later, you’re finally allowed to leave your room. however, you notice something that you later wish you hadn’t.

note: i had the worst headache whilst editing, i apologize for mistakes.

taglist: @the-sun-baby @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @uniquepickle

warnings/notes: cursing, last chapter was the calm before the storm, brutal assault, abuse, manipulation, blood, slight mind break, drugging, use of alcohol

YOU were surprised whenever erwin and levi told you that you'd been good enough to venture the house a little more a few weeks later. you had been doing the same thing as before, sitting in your room and crying, hanging with the two men for two hours, and back to being lonely.

right now, you were stuck in your room. staring out of the window into the garden with dull eyes, silent tears running down your face.

you want to go home and sleep in zeke's arms. you want to tell pieck you love her and you didn't mean what you'd said to her. you wanted to play goofy songs on the piano with bertholdt. you wanted to lay in the sun with porco and reiner while they both commit to a workout routine.

you'd do anything to have that again. anything.

you wiped away your tears whenever you heard footsteps. the door opened to reveal levi followed by his bear of a boyfriend. erwin had on a gentle smile while levi looked the same; irritated.

"c'mon, you're playing for me today," levi grunts and your eyes light up at the opportunity.

you haven't played any instrument since you were taken. your hands missed their place on the objects, fingers delicately strumming the strings or pressing on the keys. they missed their home, just like yourself.

you're glad that they hadn't caught any signs of you crying. if they had, you would've had to stay in the room and talk it out with them.

you obediently follow behind them, nightgown swishing as you walk excitedly. you watch them unlock a door that leads to your quarters, and for the first time you're in the living room without crying.

the living room is big and clean, so much to where you wonder if it's even been touched. you turn your gaze to the left, eyes acknowledge the large, black front door. your eyes widened while the voice in your head screams at you.

'RUN!!!' it says, 'THIS IS YOUR ONLY CHANCE!!’

your eyes dart down to look at the doorknobs and it's locks. the door was left unlocked.

you gulp down the ball starting to form in your throat and try to ignore how you've started to sweat. you look back at levi and erwin, who are not paying any mind to what you do. they made the mistake of not holding your chain and not having one of them walk behind you.

before you can even really think, you're gliding across the room to the door. swinging the door open just as levi and erwin turn to scream at you, and you almost feel your stomach drop at the view before you.

it's a long stone walkway with a gate sitting at the end, almost teasingly. you run quickly, ignoring how the rough stone scrapes roughly against the soles of your feet. the window is rushing through your hair and slapping against your face, something you relish in temporarily.

your legs are starting to ache from how fast you're pumping them, trying to get to the gate as quick as you can. the wind has you tearing up once more, but you reach up and wipe away the small tears.

you ignore the sound of levi's footsteps as well as his and erwin's angry screams, you're so close, you're almost there.

your mind flashes to porco and reiner for a brief moment. you thank them in your head, now happy with how the two would make you race with them during their workout routines sometimes.

you're almost there, your fingers even graze against the black metal of the fence. but your breath is being knocked out of your body as you're tugged backwards.

your chain. your chain was the cause of your demise, it had been loosely swinging behind you and over your shoulder as you ran.

your head along with your back slam against the stone, loud screams of pain bursting through your mouth. you're sliding towards the person your chain is being tugged by, nightgown now tearing apart because of the friction.

levi is above you, eyes looking almost animalistic along with an angry face that stares at you as he huffs to get his breath back. you lay in the fetal position, crying out at the tip of levi's shoe kicks into your stomach. it has you barfing, but as soon as you finish levi's hands are grabbing you by the hair and dragging you back to the house.

but halfway down the pathway, he lets go and it makes you nervous. his foot comes into contact with your nose, blooding immediately gushing out of it. you sob out after he kicks you in the same spot once more, you think you hear a crack.

his foot kicks at your ribs now, taking all the breath out of your body while your eyes go blank. you can't think, even as levi's knuckles connect with your jaw. you spit out blood and cry at the scratch you get from levi's wedding band.

his hand is tangled with your hair, and instead of trying to pull away, he uses it as leverage. he squats onto a knee, eyes widened as he slams your face into the stone. you screech, nails clawing at the rough terrain and look to erwin.

"HELP!!! HELP, PLEASE," you gargle out blood mixed with your spit, reaching a shaking hand to him.

"HE'S GONNA KILL ME, PLEASE," you wail just as levi hits you again.

"that's enough levi," erwin says, now standing behind levi and staring over his shoulder.

you look absolutely damaged. blood, spit, and tears smeared across your face and scrapes all over your fragile body. levi slams your head down one last time, detangling his hand from your hair and storming off.

erwin only sighs and takes you in his arms, ignoring how your whole body trembles the moment he touches it.

"you're ignorant," he shakes his head, "i told you that levi would hurt you if you tried to run, and you didn't listen."

he's placing you onto your bed after he's walked back inside, eyebrows furrowed and nostrils flared from irritation. his palm smacks you across your face, and you sob from the pain.

"let me tell you something," he murmurs into your ear, "even if you'd gotten passed the gates, we would've found you."

you're panting and sobbing, wanting erwin to step away from you.

"that little collar of your's has a tracker," he whispers, "you'll never be able to get away."

those are the last words you hear before you black out.

————

you sit in the bathtub a few days later, listening to the gentle singing of erwin as he drenches you in warm water.

it burns against your skin, something you'd pointed out, but they ignore. you supposed it's an extension of your punishment.

when you get out of the bath, erwin tends to your wounds. he puts on a new bandage over the cut on your face from levi's wedding band, and new bandages onto your arms and torso.

later that night, erwin finds you curled in a ball into the corner of your dark closet. hands protectively shielding your head and covering your ears, shoulders quivering as tears run down your face.

"darling," he frowns, "you've got to stop coming in here."

you don't answer, which doesn't surprise him, and only pull your hands closer to yourself. he knows you won't willingly get up, so he brings the tray into the closet.

"i have to feed you, i need you to comply," you relax, hesitantly taking your arms away from your head and lowering your knees onto the floor.

he feeds you in silence, the only noise being the air conditioner coming off and on as he spends his time in there. he notices how you struggle to swallow down your food, probably from how levi's kicks damaged your ribs along with your stomach. before he can leave, he hears your hoarse voice asking for an answer.

"erwin...," you say, "how... how did you guys kidnap me?"

erwin sighs a bit, deciding to get himself comfortable as he begins the story.

————

it was a rainy night, raindrops froze against your skin as they pelted towards the ground. erwin and levi, your newfound friends, had invited you to go drinking with them a couple of weeks prior. you accepted with hesitance, but the hesitance was thrown out of the window whenever you and pieck had gotten in a fight earlier that evening.

you needed to get your mind off of the heated argument, pieck told you that you're a fuck up while you said that you hate her. you knew that you would regret this in the morning, but right now you're way too sad to even give a fuck.

when you enter the club, you find levi and erwin sitting and talking to one another at the bar. they both already have drinks and look as handsome as ever.

you sing out a greeting as you take the stool between them, ordering yourself a fruity drink.

"glad you could make it," erwin smiled to you, bringing his transparent drink to his lips.

"i promised i'd be here! besides, after the night i've had, i deserve to get drunk. what are you two even drinking," you smirked while looking to levi, bumping your shoulder against his.

he rolled his eyes your antics, while erwin spoke, "levi isn't really able to get drunk, but he's drinking whiskey. i'm drinking bourbon. what happened?"

you sighed, but it's cut off whenever the bartender puts your drink onto the counter in front of you.

"my best friend and i got into a fight, something about the house we share and something her cat did. she said i was a fuck up, i said i hated her. we'll be crying and apologizing by tomorrow," you fanned your hand and take a swig of your drink.

erwin opened his mouth to say something, but you interrupt him with a hoot as you slam the glass back to the counter.

"that's strong!" you laughed, barely noticing how quickly you downed it, "can i have another one?!"

"you shouldn't drink too much," erwin said while he pats your back.

you can't yell at him since levi asks a question before you could, "wanna have shots?"

"yes, please! what should be get," you grinned, the both of you ignoring the disapproving look from erwin.

"kamikaze shots," he smirks, "unless you can't handle it."

"are you fuckin' kidding?! let's go, right now," you're overly excited, slightly buzzed as you move around.

said shots were placed before you and levi. you picked it up and clinked glasses with him as you laugh, slamming it back down to the counter and downing it with a grimace. you shouted out in excitement once again, throwing your hands into the air.

"let's fuckin' go!!"

"let's not," erwin pulled your hands back into your lap, which you giggle at.

levi orders you another drink, you don't exactly hear what it is even whenever the bartender puts it down in front of you. your words are slurring as you laugh and chat with the two of them, eyelids heavy as you feel yourself getting more and more tired.

"hey, (name)," levi pushed his knee against your's, spinning the liquid in his cup around.

"wh... what's up," you grinned stupidly whilst laying your head against the counter.

"we like you, romantically," the statement had you sobering up, eyes shooting open and head shooting up.

"huh? what'd you say? i think i'm really drunk now."

"i said what i said," erwin's slightly panicking over your shoulder, "would you want to be with us?"

you squinted your eyes, temples suddenly throbbing with pain. you came out to have fun, not this.

"no," you sighed sadly, "i don't like you guys like that. plus, i'd feel intrusive."

levi gave a drawn out hum as he takes your drink from the bartender and putting it onto the coaster before you.

"it's okay, don't worry," levi shrugged, hand retreating back to his glass of whiskey.

you sighed in relief and break into a smile, once again drowning yourself in the fruity drink levi's given you. when you slam it back down, you cringe and your face is pulled into a grimace once more.

the drink tasted weird, nothing like the name implied. you try to wrack what alcohol exactly tastes the way this one does, salty. it tastes salty. and it's not like it's only alcohol in the drink, at least you think.

your eyes shoot wide as you come to the realization. this is a rape-date drink. and you've just downed the drink within seconds.

your mouth opened, but nothing but gibberish comes out. the last thing you see before your eyes droop is levi's small smirk with arms opened wide.

————

the story has you recoiling into a ball again, tears streaming out of your face while erwin tries to put a hand on your shoulder.

levi inflicted so much pain. physical and mental. he's the one who got you drunk, he's the one who drugged you, he's the one who slapped you day one, and he's the one who beat you. and erwin helped. erwin ordered.

"don't touch me, please," you whisper, backing yourself further and further into the corner of the closet.

"please, i want to comfort you," he frowns, once again reaching his hand out.

"NO!!" you cry and slap his hand, immediately retracting from fear.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to," you fumble with your words and curl inwards more, "please don't hurt me again, please. i don't want to hurt anymore."

erwin's heart aches as you start to tremble, noticing how hard you were digging your nails into your scalp.

"it's okay," he says calmly, "i won't hurt you."

you choke out your words, "but levi will. he'll hurt me again."

erwin stays silent, knowing full well that you were correct. erwin was barely able to smack you without feeling bad, he couldn't imagine kicking you in the ribs. erwin can feel a ball in the back of his throat, picking up the tray in silence and leaving you alone.

you cry as you lay on the floor now, fetal position. you're going to fall asleep soon, and you're okay with you. you feel slightly more protected in the closet on the floor than in your bed.

your eyes are fluttering close.

you hope that you won't get hurt again.

[scripts4dreamers]

When you know

AN: There’s nothing like getting drunk and singing karaoke to bring two people together. 

Characters: Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia

Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader

Spoilers: None

Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol

Prompt: “Hey ! Can you do a spencer imagine about him bringing his crush to the bar with the team and they have a drunk karaoke night and he confesses his feelings for her ? 🥺”

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

By the time the phone finally rang, it was nearly 8pm and you’d drifted off into a restless sleep on the couch in your living room. The sound woke you up and you groaned at your empty apartment, fumbling around until you felt the cool metal against your skin.

“Mmhmm?” You hummed, still half asleep.

“Y/N?” Spencer said.

Your heart jumped at the sound of your friend’s voice. You’d been waiting for him to call all day but, when you glanced at the clock and saw how late it was, you decided that you couldn’t let him know that.

“Go away.”

Even through the phone you could hear Spencer shift his weight from one foot to the other, “Y/N/N I’m sorry-“

“No, stop it, I’m still mad at you,” you interrupted without any real malice, “you promised me dinner, Spencer Reid. It’s 8pm.”

“I had a case,” he laughed, “what did you expect me to do? Rush home before we were done?”

“No, that would be unreasonable,” you answered, rolling onto your back, “I expected you to do your job faster so that I wouldn’t have to spend hours wasting away in my apartment.”

“Wasting away?”

“Wasting away!” You repeated, “you should see me, Spence, I’m positively faint from hunger.”

He chuckled through the phone and you could hear the exhaustion in his voice slipping away. The thought made you smile. If there was anything you prided yourself on, it was your ability to make Spencer Reid smile. He may have been a genius, but you were funny so, if you think about it, who was the real winner?

“I’m serious!” You insisted, “I should take you to court, mister. I’ll have you know it’s illegal to keep a girl waiting like this on a Friday night.”

“I think your definition of illegal could probably use some brushing up,” Spencer teased, “and by the way? It’s doctor.”

“Oooooh I’m sorry,” you smiled, “Doctor.”

Spencer laughed again, and you felt a familiar tingle rush through your stomach. You’d known Spencer for quite some time now but, no matter how often you talked, there was something about his voice that always made you weak at the knees.

You’d met at a coffee shop near your house when he’d tripped over your bag and nearly turned your crisp white work shirt into a soggy, caffeinated mess. As it happened, the coffee had narrowly missed you, and you’d insisted on buying him a new one, forcing him to sit down and relax. You’d ended up talking for nearly an hour and, when you arrived the next day, Spencer was already there, with your coffee order in hand. After that, well, you’d been inseparable.

Spencer hummed, “How about I make it up to you? My friends and I are going out tonight, do you wanna come?”

You sat up, “Friends? What friends? Your crime fighting pals?”

You could practically hear him roll his eyes fondly, “You know we’re not technically crime fighters, we’re closer to detectives in the classic sense.”

“Okay, fine, your detective buddies. Either way I’m so there. Where should I meet you?” You replied.

As Spencer listed off the address you rushed to your room, searching the closet for something suitable to wear. You’d never met Spencer’s friends before and you knew you wanted to make a good impression.

—————————

When Spencer hung up, he was somewhere between nervous and excited. It had been too long since he’d seen you face-to-face and the idea of you being right there in front of him in less than twenty minutes was nearly intoxicating.

“She’s coming?” Morgan asked.

“He looks way too happy for her to have said no,” Prentiss smiled.

“Ooooo we get to meet her?” Garcia asked, clapping her hands with excitement.

“It’s about time,” Morgan agreed.

Spencer blushed, “You guys promised you’d be nice.”

“What? I’m nice!” Prentiss argued.

“Yeah, Reid, you've got nothing to worry about. We’ll all be on our best behavior around Lover Girl, I promise,” Morgan said, crossing his heart.

“Derek,” Garcia chided, slapping his arm softly, “her name is, Y/N and she’s about to become my new best friend.”

Spencer smiled as Morgan and Prentiss jumped in, each arguing as to why you were more likely to be their best friend. It comforted his nerves, knowing how much his friends already cared about you. It made sense, after all they’d been listening to him talk about you for months now. In fact, it was Garcia’s idea for him to go back to that coffee shop in the first place. He’d never been more nervous than he was that day, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and hoping you didn’t think he was an absolute creep for getting the order right.

Luckily, you hadn’t, and that had been the start of the most agonizing few months of his life. They were incredible, of course, because you were incredible, but he’d also never felt more out of his depth. He’d had crushes before but with you things felt different, more urgent somehow, like the clock was ticking his time with you away. Maybe it was because he knew he wasn’t right for you, that he worked too much and kept you waiting and never had enough time, and he was just waiting for you to get fed up with waiting on him. Maybe it was because you were so wonderful that it didn’t make sense for someone to not be crazy about you, someone who could give you everything you deserved, someone who definitely wasn’t Spencer. Either way, every moment he had with you was precious, which is why he’d waited so long to introduce you to the BAU. He may have been an adult but, in his heart, Spencer Reid was still an only child and he’d never been good at sharing.

His phone beeped.

Hey! I’m outside...come say hi?

“Shhh!” Spencer said, his heart jumping into his throat as he waved his arms around to silence his friends, “everyone shut up! She’s here.”

Garcia squealed, “Really?”

“Be cool, babygirl,” Morgan smiled, “what are you waiting for, Lover Boy? Go get her!”

Spencer fought down a smile, “Okay, let’s go over the rules: no talking about work, no making her feel weird, no mentioning me talking about her, no inviting her to join the FBI for no reason and no embarrassing stories. Got it?”

“You’ve got it,” Prentiss promised, “like Morgan said, best behavior.”

Garcia looked like she was about to explode with excitement, but she nodded anyway and Morgan wrapped an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, giving Spencer a wink as he did.

“Deep breaths, kid,” he said softly, “it’s gonna be fine.”

Spencer nodded and pushed himself up out of the booth, shooting his friends a double thumbs up as he half walked, half jogged his way to the front of the bar.

When he saw you he froze for a second, his heart literally stuttering in his chest as he took you in. You were beautiful, the small part of his brain that was still functioning supplied, so beautiful that it actually hurt to look at you. He thought he’d be used to the way you made him feel by now but, whether it was the distance or some other magic unique to you, every single time still hit him like a ton of bricks and he was suddenly twelve years old again.

Just then you spotted him, and your face lit up with happiness, shocking Spencer back into action. You rushed over and pulled him close, letting him bury his face in your hair, breathe in your soft, fruity smell and relish in the sudden rush of comfort he felt being in your arms again.

“Spencer!” You cheered as you broke apart, holding onto his forearms and looking him up and down, “Oh my goodness, look at you! You look so nice.”

“Look at me? Look at you!” He responded, trying not to let on how hard he’d tried putting his outfit together, “Not bad for someone on the very brink of starvation.”

“Ah, you flatter me,” you joked, letting him go and adjusting your purse strap.

Spencer noticed the way you were shifting on your feet and fiddling with the hem of your jacket and he felt his heart pinch.

“Hey,” he said, “are you nervous?”

You laughed breathlessly, “That obvious, huh?” You smiled and shrugged, “I don’t know, I just want to make a good impression. This is your family, I want them to like me.”

Spencer bumped your shoulder with his, a rush of happiness bubbling up in his chest at the way you said family. He’d never told you that about the BAU, you’d just known. Just like you’d known a million little things about him that he’d never thought anyone would ever know. Just like you’d known on that first day that he needed someone to talk to. You just knew, and wasn’t that it’s own sort of genius?

“They’re gonna love you,” he assured, injecting sincerity into every word, “trust me.”

You nodded and took a deep breath in, steeling yourself against your nerves and forcing on a smile, “okay. I’m ready.”

And with that, Spencer walked you in. As soon as you stepped into the bar he felt your muscles tense. It was a small bar, cosy and warm, with a stage and a microphone set up for karaoke.

“It’s a karaoke bar?” You hissed, “You didn’t tell me it was a karaoke bar!”

“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Spencer shrugged, “here we are.”

“Y/N!” Garcia greeted, jumping up, “Hi! I mean, hello! I’m Garci-Penelope! I’m Penelope!”

Spencer smiled as he felt your muscles relax and Garcia pulled you into a hug. You laughed, but responded just as enthusiastically.

“Hi! I-uh-I guess you all know my name then,” you grinned.

“Oh shoot,” Garcia said, “sorry, I broke a rule.”

Spencer shot her a panicked look, flushing bright red as you raised your eyebrows at him.

“Don’t mind Garcia,” Prentiss cut in, rescuing Spencer from having to explain, “we're all just really glad to meet you. I’m Emily.”

She reached out to shake your hand and, with that, you took a seat next to Spencer and normal conversation resumed. Morgan and Garcia launched back into their banter while Emily asked questions about your job and when you’d moved to the city. It was easy and normal and...so, so strange.

Spencer was almost painfully aware of how close you were; your leg brushing his under the table, your shoulder nudging his with every little movement you made. He tried to stay focused on what was going on at the table, tried to follow the conversation and add value, but he couldn’t keep the stories straight. Time didn’t make sense anymore. Spencer was completely lost in the unbelievable happiness of having all the people he cared about in one place.

At some point during the night, an immeasurable amount of time later, Morgan bought drinks. That was a mistake. It was a mistake because now you were tipsy and your head was on his shoulder and Spencer thought his head might actually explode with the effort of not blurting out how much he liked you right then and there. You were laughing at something Emily had said, just chuckling like it was the most natural thing in the world and Spencer felt his heart literally swell.

“We should sing!” Garcia said suddenly.

You gasped, slapping Spencer’s thigh with excitement, your whole face lighting up like it was christmas.

“Yes! Yes yes yes! We should sing!” You agreed, “Don’t you think, Spence?? Don’t you think we should sing?”

Spencer laughed and shook his head, “No! No, I don’t sing. Trust me, you don’t want to hear that.”

“Pleeeeaaaaase?” You whined, turning to face him fully and fluttering your eyelashes, “please, Spence?”

Damn those eyes, he thought to himself, feeling his skin flush under the weight of your stare. Maybe this would be easier if he was drunk. He couldn’t say no to you at the best of times but, when you’re pouting at him like that, with full puppy dog eyes? Oh yeah, he was beyond putty in your hands. Spencer could practically taste Morgan’s smug look.

He rolled his eyes fondly, giving in to the inevitable, “What would we even sing?”

Somehow, your smile grew infinitely bigger and Spencer’s heart did that thing where it jumped into his throat and stuttered at the same time.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” You turned to Garcia, “Well? You coming, ‘Nel?”

“You betcha!” Garcia smiled, pulling you up and towards the stage.

At the last second you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s hand, laughing your head off as you went. His skin felt like it was on fire where you touched him, little shocks of electricity running through every inch of skin that touched yours. It was a little ridiculous really, how quickly Spencer lost his head when you touched him. All that genius, all those years of schooling sharpening his mind into a finely crafted machine and all he could think about was the feeling of skin on skin, and the smell of your hair.

The stage was sticky. The microphone was pitchy and jarring. Everything was way too much, and completely dull at the same time because all he could see was you. You and Garcia were hunched over a screen, laughing and talking as you picked a song. The music started and you grabbed the microphone, smiling over at him like it was nothing. Spencer knew he should be nervous, he should be hating every second of being up on stage in front of a group of strangers but, for some reason, he wasn’t. He was happy and calm and like ten other adjectives that almost never described him in the hours after a case, but that seemed to follow you around like a shadow.

You opened your mouth, too drunk to be properly singing, but still sober enough to be almost on key, “Here’s the thing, We started off friends-”

Garcia joined in, “It was cool but it was all prete-end, yeah yeah,”

“Since you been gone!”

You waved him over and Spencer followed, letting you point out the screen where the words appeared line by line. To be in front of the mic, Spencer had to lean in towards you and woah that’s close. He could count every single eyelash and see individual flakes of glitter against your skin, but he pushed the image down, tucking it away into the back of his mind somewhere for him to take out again when he was alone. All this happened in a split second, just long enough for Spencer to remember where he was and snap back into the present.

“You dedicated, you took the time,” The three of you sang together, trying to stifle laughter when Garcia tried to harmonize, “It wasn’t long before I called you mi-ine, yeah yeah, Since you been gone!”

You closed your eyes, throwing your head back as you sang and drawing Spencer in even closer.

“And all you’d ever hear me say Is how I picture me with you! That’s all you’d ever hear me say!”

You opened your eyes, turning to Garcia as the music swelled.

“But since you been gone! I can breathe for the fiiiiiirst tiiiiiiime, I’m so moving on, YEAH YEAH” you screamed together, even Spencer giving into the music for a moment, “Thanks to you! Now I get! I get what I waaaaaaaant! Since you been gone!”

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and, when he did, you met his eye and followed suit, doubling over and clutching your stomach as you laughed together, Spencer wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you up so that you could support Garcia as her back up singers. It was silly and goofy and fun, and Spencer didn’t really want it to end because it meant he could be close to you. It meant he had a reason to be close to you that wasn’t just his own selfishness and it felt like you wanted to be close to him too.

As the song came to an end and Garcia warbled out a final, “since you been gone”, Spencer found himself just looking at you, something thrumming just below the surface in his chest. His arm was still around your waist, just a friend supporting another friend, that’s all, totally innocent. Except that it wasn’t because he was looking at you like you were salvation and he could feel it happening, he just didn’t care. Because it was obvious, wasn’t it? It was obvious that he loved you. He’d maybe always loved you, ever since that day at the coffee shop and maybe that was okay. Maybe it was okay that he loved you even though he didn’t deserve you because, well, you knew him. You knew Spencer in a way that only one or two people in his entire life had ever known him and you still seemed to like him, you still looked at him like he was something special and precious.

Garcia pulled you both off the stage, bowing to the smattering of applause from the crowd and the whoops and hollers from the table where his friends were sitting. Instinctively, Spencer tugged you back, shooting Garcia an apologetic look, which she accepted with a nod and a subtle smile. His heart was in his throat but, when you turned and looked back at him, tilting your head in confusion, he felt sure.

“Hey-uh-can we-” he paused, smiling sheepishly as he felt himself flush, “can we talk, quickly?”

You frowned, concerned, but nodded and let him pull you aside, and Spencer loved you so much for it that he wanted to scream. Looking around, he managed to spy a somewhat empty corner of the bar, far enough away from the stage that you’d be able to talk without having to raise your voice. It wasn’t perfect, if he’d known-well-if he’d known how tonight was going to go he would have planned something more romantic, but he didn’t and the idea of knowing how he felt and not telling you about it made him feel sick. Because it all made sense now, the sense of urgency, the way his crush on you had never felt like a crush, the way one conversation with you felt just like three hours of uninterrupted reading. It all made sense and he needed you to know, right now, before he got called away on another case and you were apart for God knows how long. He needed you to know.

“Spence?” You asked as soon as you were in the corner, “What’s going on, did I do something wrong?”

“What? No! No-Y/N-you’re-” he started, forcing himself out of his head and back into the moment, “you’ve been incredible. You are incredible, which is sort of what I wanted us to talk about-or-no not exactly?” he rambled, his thoughts and feelings tripping and stumbling over one another in an attempt to find just the right combination of words for the way he was feeling, “I mean it is-you are-but I realised that you’ve always-ugh, sorry-”

“Hey,” you chuckled gently, taking one of his hands in both of yours, “it’s okay, just slow down. We’re not all super geniuses, you know?”

Spencer paused, taking a deep breath and letting his thoughts catch up with one another. God, you really were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, some part of him noted, and your smile….When you smiled at him like you were right then, like he was the only person in the room, like there was nowhere else you’d rather be than right there in that dingy karaoke bar, all his fears just kind of...went away. He could still feel them, if he really tried, but they were distant, locked up in another room, behind a metal door with a padlock on it. They were so far away and you were so close and wasn’t that more important?

“I’m in love with you,” he heard himself say, “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I know that-I know that you don’t owe me anything, and I’m not trying to pressure you, or force you to do anything, I just thought you should know because-because it’s the truth, and I think you deserve the truth.” he paused, wishing that he could gauge some sort of reaction besides the slight widening of your eyes, “And the truth is that I’m in love with you, Y/N, and-”

Thankfully, you kissed him before he had to figure out how to finish that sentence. He barely had time to notice you leaning in before your lips were on his, soft and sure, like you were answering a question, or saying a prayer. Everything else faded away, nothing was as important as you and, without even thinking, Spencer kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. Your fingers threaded through his hair and he sighed against your lips, some small part of his brain wondering if kissing was supposed to feel this good. Had it ever felt like this before? Had he ever wanted like this before? No, not until you. Because you were different, you’d always been different and, if the way you whispered his name against his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip was anything to go by, you’d always been his, and he just hadn’t known it.

He could have stayed like that forever, wrapped up in your arms with the burnt sugar taste of your lips on his tongue, but eventually you had to break apart, even if it was only to breathe. Thankfully, you stayed close, resting your forehead against Spencer’s as you basked in the moment.

“I-love you too,” you chuckled breathlessly, “in case that much wasn’t blatantly obvious.”

“You know, I’d like to say I had a hunch,” he responded, “but I really didn’t.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning forward to press another, much gentler kiss to his lips, “What, you thought I dressed like this for Morgan?”

There was something sinful about being able to let his eyes trace your body like this so openly, something private and intimate that made Spencer want to blush.

“I-uh-I tried very hard not to think about who you dressed like that for, actually,” he admitted, and then quickly continued, “not that you dress a specific way for anybody, or that there’s anything wrong if you do it’s just-you know-women can dress how they like, and there’s nothing intrinsically identifiable in the way a woman dresses that allows a person to truly know what she wants or doesn’t want. Not that you want anything, I just-”

You cut him off with another kiss and Spencer melted into it gratefully. He could feel you smiling into the kiss and, for once, he was grateful for his rambling. For once, Spencer Reid couldn’t think of a single thing he’d change about himself, because you loved him and that was too good a thing for him to want to mess with.

taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes​

[ragingbookdragon]

Black Jeans & Daphne Blue Still Make Me Think Of You

Jason Todd x M!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.4K Warnings: Mentions of Torture and Death, Explicit Language

Author's Note: Daphne Blue by The Band CAMINO has been my new favorite song. Enjoy! -Thorne

He knelt in front of the guy he had tied to the chair. Poor bastard. He thought. Always gotta make things so difficult. Reaching up, he slapped him across the face a couple times.

“Oi, wakey, wakey.” The guy startled awake, immediately whimpering behind the gag. “Oh, good morning sleeping beauty. Have a nice nap?” The guy groaned and he chuckled, yanking down the strip of fabric. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I don’t know anything, Sentinel, I swear to God.”

Sentinel eyed him behind the mask. “You really wanna do this whole dance all over again?” he poked at one of the guy’s broken fingers. “You don’t have any more fingers to break. The next option is your toes.” He started to pull of the guy’s shoes.

“Wait! Wait!” he cried, trying to yank away. “Please don’t!”

“Tell me what I wanna know and your piggies can still go to the market,” he lazily retorted, letting go of his foot.

“But he’ll kill me!” he cried.

Sentinel stared at him. “I’m still wondering what makes you think I’m not gonna kill you too.” he deadpanned, pulling out a silver dagger.

The blade itself was fairly simply, not engraved or marked with extensive decorations of gold or ivory. No, frivolous things such as that were only meant for special and expensive weapons. This dagger had been created by someone with a decent amount of money. Meant to withstand against weathering and usage—it merely served a purpose.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. You tell me where I can find Two-Face and I’ll kill you quickly. That’ll certainly save you a lot of pain and fear from having your boss dump you in a pool of acid,” he reasoned.

The thug choked on a sob and let his head loll back. “Alright! I’ll talk!”

“Wonderful,” Sentinel smiled. “Where’s Two-Face hiding out.”

“The old courthouse in Arkham City. It’s in the center of the city, you can’t miss it.”

“How many thugs does he have with him at all times?”

The guy’s face pinched. “I don’t know, he’s got a personal guard and the normal group too.”

“No shit,” Sentinel griped. “Numbers, jackass.”

“No more than ten for his personal, but he’s got about thirty normal.”

“Weapons?”

“Anything you can think of,” the thug answered. “Guns, knives, lead pipes, everything.”

Sentinel leaned back on his haunches, thinking for a moment. “Who’s Two-Face allied with at the moment?”

“I—” The guy’s mouth opened, then he snapped it shut.

“Oh, come on, do you need me to cut off a finger?”

“No, it’s—it’s just…”

“Just what?” Sentinel demanded.

“There was supposed to be a meeting tonight about discussing new gang territories,” the thug answered.

He paused and glared at him. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“You wanted to know about Two-Face only?”

“Where’s the meeting?”

“Penguin’s Iceberg Lounge.”

“Thanks.” Sentinel quipped and thrust the knife into the thug’s throat. His gasp turned into a gurgle as crimson poured down his neck and into his shirt before he ultimately slumped forward. He yanked the dagger out and wiped it on the guy’s pants before sheathing it and standing.

“Lovely,” he grunted. “Now I have to change plans.”

“You know,” someone said from above him. “Batman’s not going to be very happy about you coming into town and killing his punching bags.”

Sentinel whirled around and looked up, catching sight of a familiar Red Hood sitting rather comfortably on a metal beam, his head tipped in a cocky fashion.

He pressed a hand to his chest and dramatized, “Oh no, it’s the Red Hood!” He shut his eyes and groaned, “I admit it, I killed him. And I’ll consent to a full body search at your perusal, Red Hood.” When he didn’t hear a reply, he cracked an eye open and huffed, “You’re no fun, Nightwing usually plays along.”

Red Hood shifted and dropped to the ground, landing with a heavy thud. “What are you doing back in Gotham, Sentinel?”

“Are you asking me because you’re curious or because Batman told you?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“So, it’s because Batman told you.” he chuckled. “Since when did you become Batman’s errand boy? I thought you didn’t like him.”

“Just answer the question,” Red Hood sighed.

“Fine, fine,” Sentinel relented as he waved a hand. “Two-Face and I had a deal and he backed out of it, so now I’m trying to find him.”

The vigilante crossed his arms over his chest. “What was the deal?”

“Oh, you know, tamper with a few legal proceedings. The usual.”

“And what were you supposed to get in return?”

Sentinel scowled. “An obscene amount of money that he failed to deliver.” He started off towards the doors. “And I plan on getting what I’m owed.”

He could hear Red Hood following him. “Where are you going?”

“Our dearly deceased friend said Two-Face was attending a meeting at the Iceberg Lounge.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “If they’re discussing territory, I need to do reconnaissance in order to learn where Two-Face is gonna set back up.”

“Want some help?” Sentinel paused and turned back around, practically coming chest to chest with the much taller vigilante.

“What kind of help?” he questioned, testing the waters by toying with the zipper on Red Hood’s jacket. When the vigilante didn’t move, he tugged a little. “Your skill? Or another kindof help?”

“I’m willing to part with both,” Red Hood murmured, reaching up to hold Sentinel’s wrist. “So long as you promise not to kill Two-Face.”

He chuckled and pulled his arm away, turning to leave. “And on that note, I’ll do this on my own.”

“You’re gonna show up to the Iceberg Lounge like that?”

Sentinel turned around as he opened the door. “Of course not.” He winked. “I’m gonna go undercover.” And he was gone.

***

He smoothed the front of his black leather jacket and blue shirt as he stepped into the chilly nightclub; he was glad he actually decided to go with something warm. Lazily scanning the room, he caught sight of the full tables as well as the upper level where people were sitting and smoking expensive cigars. One particular set of doors caught his eye and upon closer inspection, he saw two armed guards standing outside, one wearing Penguin’s gang colors, the other wearing Two-Face’s.

Bingo. He thought and in order to not raise suspicion, he made his way around one of the pillars that gave him the ability to hide, but also to see the double doors as well. One of the thugs had a walkie-talkie on him and he hummed, pulling out a small device from his pocket. He played with it for a moment and when the static cleared, he grinned and raised it to his mouth.

“Aye, you still outside the office?” he asked, watching as Two-Face’s thug grabbed the radio on his thigh.

“Yeah, boss is still in there with Penguin.” He glanced at the other gang member. “Why?”

“Somebody said they saw Batman poking around the area. Go check it out.”

“But we got orders to stay put.”

He frowned. “Orders ain’t gonna mean shit if Batman gets in there and throws the boss back in GCPD, shithead. Get crackin’.”

The two thugs looked at one another then to the door before shrugging and splitting up and leaving the doors wide open. He turned his back and waited for the guard to pass him before he slipped back and walked up to the doors. Quickly, he pressed his ear to it and listened, hearing someone that sounded like Penguin talking on the inside. He smiled and slipped a small device, no bigger than a thumbtack inside the keyhole, pressing it as he pulled his hand away.

“Hey!” someone shouted behind him. He spun and was met with the two thugs, both with angry and suspicious looks on their faces. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled. “I was looking for the restroom.”

“That ain’t it pal,” Penguin’s thug said.

“Right, sorry,” he excused, feigning an apologetic tone. “If you can point me in the direction, I’ll be out of your hair, promise.”

Two-Face’s thug tipped his head to the opposite side of the room. “Back that way.” He took a step forward and thrust the rifle into his face. “Don’t come back around here.”

He nodded resolutely. “You got it, sir.” He quickly fled before they changed their minds and disappeared into the crowd. When he was sure they no longer had eyes on him, he took a seat at the bar and pulled out an earpiece, discreetly slipping it in; he clicked the button on the outside of the piece and the conversation from inside the door flooded his ear.

“Word is that Sentinel is in town, Two-Face. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that now, would you?”

“What? Afraid that he’ll visit you?”

“Hardly. But the rumor mill says that he’s looking for you. Don’t tell me you pulled out on a deal?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t do—

“Is this seat taken?”

The low drawl made him jump slightly and he looked to the side, seeing a man smirking down at him. His eyes momentarily darted to the door before going back to the man’s face.

“Uh, no,” he replied. “It’s open.”

He hummed and sat down. “Thanks. Can I get you a drink?”

He inconspicuously slipped the earpiece from his ear and dropped it into his pocket. “I don’t know. What’s going to impress you? Something fruity? Or something…hard?” he flirted, propping his chin on his palm.

The stranger chuckled. “How about both?”

Grinning, he looked at the bartender. “Sex In The Driveway, please. For both of us.” The server turned and started making their drinks, and he shifted his attention back to the man beside him. “Got a name, handsome?”

“Jason. What’s yours?”

“(Y/N),” he replied, taking a moment to ogle the man. And boy was he pretty. Sharp jawline, killer set of teal eyes, midnight black hair, and oddly enough, a white streak. He had to be ripped under that red shirt and leather jacket he wore, and (Y/N) really wanted to find out. Their drinks were set in front of them, and he reached over, taking a sip of his.

“What brings you to this dingy nightclub? Don’t tell me it’s the scenery.”

Jason grinned. “I don’t know, the scenery right now is pretty nice.” He took the straw into his mouth and sipped, then set the drink down. “Wanted to see if there was anyone I could take home for the night.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh. “Well, aren’t you just upfront about what you want.” He winked. “I like that in a man.” Twirling the straw with his finger, he asked, “You work in Gotham?”

He shrugged. “Mostly, but my job takes me where the money is.” Jason looked at him. “I bet you know what that’s like.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I’m originally from Central City.”

“What’s someone from a safe place like Central doing here in Gotham?”

He hummed and turned in his seat so that he was facing Jason. “Just visiting a friend.”

“A boyfriend?” Jason wondered and (Y/N) snorted.

“Nope. No boyfriend for me.” He eyed him. “Yet…what about you? Have anybody waiting at home?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“You’re loyal? Isn’t that a charming quality.”

“What can I say? I’m a charming guy to be around.”

(Y/N) drug his foot up the side of Jason’s calf. “Charming indeed.”

Jason’s mouth opened, but (Y/N)’s attention was drawn away by the doors in the back opening, and Two-Face stepping out, followed by Penguin. His mood soured and evidently it showed on his face because he heard,

“Are you okay?” He directed his attention back to Jason who was looking at him with a cocked brow.

“Yeah,” he answered, then pulled his foot away and stood up. “But it’s getting late, and I have to get going.”

“Going back to see your friend?”

(Y/N) laughed. “Something like that.” He paused and gazed at Jason, then asked, “Gotta pen?”

He dug around in his pocket then pulled out a black sharpie and handed it over. “Here.” (Y/N) took Jason’s hand in his own and quickly wrote a set of numbers on the back.

Jason looked at it. “This your cell?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, it’s the number to my favorite Chinese joint down the street.” Grinning, he leaned over and planted a kiss on Jason’s cheek, murmuring, “I’ll be in town another couple days. Gimme a call sometime if you’d like to hangout.”

As he pulled away, he caught those teal eyes narrowed in amusement. “I definitely will, (Y/N).”

When he stepped through the exit, he sighed, knowing that he was going to have to spend hours going over the conversation in order to get a plan figured out. But hey, at least I scored a date. He thought with a grin.

***

“Have fun in lockup, Dent!” He called from the ledge as he watched the gang leader get loaded into the squad car. As they drove off, he checked his phone and smiled as the transactions followed through.

“Another night, another million,” he quipped and just as he was putting his phone away, it pinged. He looked back at it, eyes widening as he read,

So that’s what Sentinel looks like out of uniform? Black jeans and Daphne Blue? I hope you know I’m never not going to think of you when I see that combo now 😊.

(Y/N) froze and stared at his screen, millions of thoughts scrambling around his mind until he settled on, Who is this?

The little birdy you met in the lounge the other night.

He blinked and typed, Jason?

That’d be the little birdy.

How do you know who I am?

On your left, Sentinel.

He immediately looked up and his jaw went slack at the sight of Red Hood standing there, phone in his hand.

“You’re shitting me,” (Y/N) blurted out. His phone pinged.

Told you I was gonna call you.

Red Hood—Jason stowed his phone and walked up to him. “Wanna go get that Chinese you mentioned?”

(Y/N) gaped at him, then he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, why not? I could eat.”

[yespolkadotkitty]

I’ll Be by Edwin McCain came on the other day and instantly got me into my Zach feels. Something about it was so him - the mood, the 90s, the flannel. The line “rain falls angry on the tin roof as we lie awake in my bed” in particular sticks with me. If you have time, can I get a little nugget of Zach? Fluff or smut, or fluff with a wee kernel or smut? I love your writing.

Right so as discussed you didn’t ask for a multichapter fic but as I’ve got 4 chapters so far  LET’S DO THIS

So many shoutouts for this so here goes:

THANKYOU @kindablackenedsuperhero for this STUNNING BANNER.

THANKYOU @thestrawberry-thief for US library advice

THANKYOU @heatherbel for the beta and UK library advice

THANKYOU @knittingqueen13 for the encouragement

THANKYOU @pedropascallion  for the library clerk advice!

THANKYOU @disgruntledspacedad and @alienprincesspoop for screaming with me about this fic.

Chapter One

Warnings: Scenes of assault, attempted sexual assault  ~ Words: 1380

Pairing: Zach Wellison x OFC Martha Song

Walk with your keys in your hand and keep a key between each finger.

Watch your shadows and reflections - a split second’s notice is better than none.

If they take you and put you in the trunk, kick out the headlights.

These are all things girls are taught from a young age. Things I knew, almost unconsciously. Things that were smart.

But did knowing these things stop me from taking a shortcut through the park after the sun had set?

No, they did not.

I had my hand in my pocket, around the keys. I did not have headphones on - needed to hear if someone was approaching.

Usually, I did all the safe things at night. Walked in the road if it was appropriate, so someone would have to come out from the pavements and buildings to grab me. Stuck to well lit areas.

But, well, I was tired, and hungry for the Chinese takeout leftovers in my fridge, could already taste the sticky pork ribs in my mind, and I took the lazy, unsafe shortcut.

I’m sure the media would have blamed me for what happened next.

I heard them before I saw them. I turned slightly. Two guys, one wearing a beanie, another with his hood up.

It wasn’t even seven pm, but in January the sun set earlier, and darkness had descended, filling up all the corners that daylight usually illuminated.

I quickened my pace. I’m sure they’re just coming off shift.

“Hey, babe,” one of them called.

I glanced around. No one else in the vicinity, and the park spread flat enough for me to see. A single streetlight ahead beckoned and I headed for it, the bag of books from work on my back slowing me down.

I thought about ditching it, but: books. I value books more than anything. I couldn’t sacrifice them even for my own benefit.

“Not gonna stop and talk?” the other one called.

They’re just cat-callers, nothing to worry about.

It was just shy of seven in the evening - where the fuck was everyone? LA should have been busy, was always bustling, but I had somehow chosen the one time where this section of the popular park was empty.

“Come on baby, spare a little sugar?” the first one called. Their steps got closer. The second one was snickering and I felt the little mouse of fear skitter down my spine.

I clenched my keys tighter. Shouldn’t have taken the shortcut.

The streetlight got closer, and I watched it, saw the first guy’s shadow with a hair’s breadth of notice. I spun as he reached me, the keys poking out between my fingers, but I was scared and all my punch did was piss him off.

“Pretty girl,” he half wheezed as he grabbed for me. “Don’t pretend you don’t want it.”

I struggled. Under the streetlamp I caught a glimpse of the first guy’s face, straggly mousy brown beard, cold eyes. The pit of my stomach fell.

“Let me.” Guy two was at my back, hands on my waist. He smelled of alcohol and something like old food, and bile rose up in my throat. “Loosen up, baby, we only wanna make you feel good.”

I tried to shout, but the noise died on my tongue. Fear had clutched itself around my body and the muscles weren’t responding. My keys fell from my fist.

Help, I thought. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth as the first guy slid his hand down my body.

No, no, no.

Then suddenly a rush of adrenaline hit my veins - come on, what would Katniss Everdeen do? - and I shoved my knee up into guy one’s groin. Not as hard as I wanted to, but he cried out, a litany of swear words falling from his lips. I kicked out, but guy two was stronger, and had an arm around my throat before I could move.

“Come on now. Don’t be like that,” he cajoled, his sour breath licking at my cheek.

By then guy one had recovered, his face caught in a snarl, white skin pasty under the streetlight. I felt like I was in a sort of backwards ballet, a dystopian dance where there was no way I could make the right moves.

“Hey, assholes.”

The new voice, deep, with a bit of Texas drawl, made me turn. 

A man, mostly in shadow, a large duffel bag by his feet, wielded what looked like a big section of industrial metal pipe.

Guy two huffed out a laugh. “Oh look, it’s the little soldier boy and he brought a new toy with him.”

“Let her go, man,” the stranger called out, taking a step closer.

Guy one had recovered from my knee to his dick. “Or you’ll do what?” He grabbed for me again, but he was distracted by my would-be rescuer, so I took the opportunity to knee him again, but this time, like I meant it, like my life depended on it.

He buckled, and the release meant I could drive my elbow back into guy two’s kidneys. He was stronger, through, and he tightened his arm around my throat. I grabbed for his wrist, scrabbling, barely noticing the stranger moving out of my sight.

“Duck!” He yelled, and I summoned all my strength to yank my head down.

In a moment, a loud thunk confirmed my suspicions, the sound of metal on flesh and bone, and guy two toppled like a tree.

Breathless, I turned to scoop up my keys, and stared at my knight in - dirty jeans. He was panting, his arms still holding the pipe up.

“You okay?” he asked, and I saw him clearly under the streetlamp, the glow picking out the gold in his brown-sugar hair. A patchy beard, more stubble than anything, hugged his well defined jaw. His eyes were soft, kind, the deep brown of hot cocoa.

“I am thanks to you.”

Below him, guy one writhed on the floor and, feeling too angry to think, I stomped on the part of him closest to me, his hand.

He cried out and I couldn’t have cared less.

“You wanna call the cops?” the stranger asked, but his tone was wary. As if I might have been just as likely to call the law about him as the attackers.

I thought it over. I’d likely be raked over the coals for having the audacity to walk alone at night (as if anytime after sundown could be counted as night) and my attackers would get a wrist slap. If that.

“Nah.” But I stomped on guy one’s wrist again for good measure.

He whined.

“C’mon,” Brown Eyes said. “I’ll walk you to the edge of the park.” He set the pipe on his shoulder and crossed over to the waiting duffle bag. It was the size of his torso. I took in his weathered, unshaven appearance, and wondered if the canvas fabric contained his every worldly possession.

I checked behind me, but the stranger was quick to reassure. “They won’t be back for a couple days.”

“You’ve… seen them before?”

He ducked his head, and in the glow from a nearby streetlamp I saw a faint flush of rose on his cheeks. “I’m... here a lot.”

He’s homeless. But of course I didn’t say it out loud.

We reached the edge of the park. People milled about, some queueing outside a deli popular for its pizza sold by the cheesy, greasy slice.

I didn’t miss the way the stranger’s head jerked up towards the scent of pizza.

How long since he’d eaten?

“Want some pizza?” I asked.

Something unreadable passed over his face. “I’m not a charity case.”

“Oh, but I am?”

His head whipped around. “What?”

“Did you come to my defence just now because you felt sorry for me? Oh look, there’s a woman of colour being attacked, gosh I feel sorry for her-”

“No, of course not, what the-” then he huffed out a laugh. “Touchė.”

“It’s just pizza. And a thank-you. I’m Martha.” I held out a hand.

He looked down at my outstretched palm for a second, as if surprised that I wanted to touch him. Then he shook my hand, his own large, warm, callused. “Zach.”

***********

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