#and again. these are *not* all the files by far.

[gilbirda]

Personal coach Red Hood

Idea by @impyssadobsessions where Jazz needs a personal trainer from a gotham hero and chooses red hood. Eventual ship content. This is more of a setting so far but i have ideas. I accept ideas too, im just balling

I'm going to try a more chill and lax posting with this bad boy. I feel like my rigid way of organizing is making me feel restricted so this will be 1000% vibes and let's see where it goes.

---

Jazz knew this was a stupid idea. Dangerous. Suicidal, maybe, depending on who would answer her call. But she still had to try.

You may be wondering how a twenty something young woman ends up following Gotham heroes around with a notepad. She wasn’t looking for an autograph, or for the latest scoop on the heroes, trying to uncover their secrets.

She was actually writing down their patterns and observations in behavior, trying to map their patrol routes and create a decent enough file and expectations of the heroes.

What did she need the information for?

She needed a personal trainer.

No, not the kind you hire at the gym. She already tried that and it didn’t work. She also tried MMA, and kickboxing and just to see if she could do it, Judo. All were interesting and gave her a pretty good picture of what her body was capable of, and a guesstimate of her physical limitations.

But no. She needed something else, something more… tailored for what she actually needed the training for.

She needed to intern with a hero. The term “sidekick” felt wrong for what she had in mind, since she didn’t want to be that hero’s trainee forever. Or was interested in the current superhero scene at all. They were doing just fine without her.

She just… she felt left out. Danny was amazing but he didn’t need her, not as much as she would have liked. He was a hero, and a pretty good one, but he wasn’t in any place to train her. Not that he wanted to, since he usually avoided her every time she brought it up.

Her baby brother was all grown up and he didn’t need his older sister anymore. 

Jazz shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Danny would always need her — she just needed to do her homework and keep up with him on her own. If she just trained enough and could hold her own in ghost fights, she was sure Danny would be grateful and appreciate her support. Who knows, maybe he would be happy that he didn’t need to be wary of ghosts day and night, and actually rest and focus on his neglected studies.

She yawned, lamenting another night that looked to be a bust. Maybe the heroes were busy tonight? Maybe they were on a big mission away? Unlikely that all of them were away, there were usually at least a few of the Bats flying around the city.

Why Gotham, you may ask? Of all the funny-dressed crime fighters on Earth, why these people? 

Easy.

They were human.

That piqued Jazz’s interest. She had been between the Arrows and the Bats, but finally chose the Bats because Gotham had one perk over Star City: unlimited supply of ectoplasm. The place was almost as coated in the thing as Amity, which she was grateful for. It saved her from going back and forth to places rich with ghost activity and fishing blobs to eat.

Don’t ask too many questions about the consuming blob ghosts part. It was a necessary evil.

However, it’s been a few months and all she got to show for her efforts was a notepad filled with scribbles she painstakingly copied to her computer and a lot of frustration.

Until one night she caught Red Hood alone as he checked his phone. She waited until he was done texting — she had manners thank you very much — and jumped in front of him before he had the chance to grapple away.

“Hi— oof.” 

Thanks the ancients for her reflexes and Judo training, she blocked Hood's punch and following kick. It would probably bruise but it wasn't the end of the world.

“What the fuck?” 

“Hi,” she tried again, “I'm Jazz.”

He didn't punch her again, which she took as a good sign. Instead, he took a step back and squared up like he was expecting a fight.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he scoffed but let her continue speaking, “I’m looking for… I guess you’d call it a mentor? That sounds weird… A personal trainer? No, that’s wrong too. Hm, I wonder if there’s a word for ‘person who is the only one that can teach you very specific information in a field of interest that legally, or otherwise—’.”

Red Hood cleared his throat, making her jump.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah? I am real.”

Hood looked at her in silence for a few moments. Then, he sighed and rubbed one gloved hand against his helmet. 

“Listen, girl.”

“Jazz!”

“Jazz,” somehow she got the impression he grumbled, but the voice modulator did its job really well, “I have things to do, ok? Crimes to stop and stuff. So… yeah. Goodnight.”

He turned around and picked the grapple gun from inside his jacket.

“Wait!” 

He jumped and misfired the gun, hitting the wall of the building instead of the roof, like he was supposed to. As the gun recalled the rope, he looked over his shoulder at her. Jazz understood he was glaring at her, she could feel the daggers on her skin.

“Hear me out, ok?” He didn’t move or said anything. “I need— I have tried hiring a trainer, at… back at the gym. You know? But that wasn’t enough. I think I need to train with an actual hero—”

“Listen,” the word was accompanied by the hook of the grapple clicking into place, “whatever it is you are looking for, you definitely are not going to find it with me. So. Scramble.” 

He made a shooing gesture with one hand and aimed the gun without looking, shooting it and amazingly enough, hitting the edge of the rooftop. He made a salute as he was launched to the air at high speed.

Jazz didn’t follow, mesmerized by the skill. Hood landed with a flip and without breaking momentum, started running to the next rooftop, jumping impossible lengths. The way he moved was confident, powerful and measured.

She wanted to do that. She needed Red Hood to train her.

---

Back to Main Archive

Back to Danny Phantom Archive

Do you like my stuff? You can support me here!

[madlori]

i'm nervous but also excited for gerrard as captain simply because i hope it'll allow tommy to be fleshed out much more, give him more backstory and show his development since leaving the 118 and address his loneliness (defense mechanism?). we know people filed in complaints abour gerrard years ago. maybe this is the opportunity for tommy to finally face all his past demons and get much needed relief and closure, maybe allowing him to finally accept his past mistakes 100% instead of just 99%? at the same time, i am interested to see how the new 118 will handle gerrard. when he left, the 118 was still far far far away from being the found family that it is nowadays. what are your thoughts on that?

I think you're on to something. I do NOT think it's an accident that Tommy has been woven into the Gerrard "storyline" (I put it in quotes because it was really just foreshadowing) all season. He mentioned Gerrard on their first date in the context of how repressive it was and how he couldn't come out until he left. Then Gerrard showed up at the ceremony, and tossed an actual homophobic comment at him (and by extension Buck although who knows if Gerrard knows they're dating or not). Then he brings him up AGAIN at last night's date, AND tied it to how being there under that guy made him not the best version of himself. Most of what we know of Gerrard that's from this season is from Tommy, not Chim or Hen.

The writer in me thinks this is a way to weave him into the 118's storylines more solidly, which you'd want to do if you wanted him to stick around.

That being said, I think most of the Gerrard stuff will involve the 118 itself (those people are the main cast, after all - any involvement Tommy has will be secondary or via Buck).

I'm gonna say this, though...after this Gerrard stuff? My estimation for the odds of them trying to add Lou as a main cast member and not just recurring went from 5% to like...25%. I still don't think they will - recurring seems like a pretty solid guess - but the degree to which they're tying upcoming storylines back to the pre-Bobby 118 is interesting.

[octopiys]

Cw: blood, body horror, mentions of torture/death

Nature conservation officer!Johnny who the second the thing leaves his sight, he's back inside, dialing his work place and calling his friend Gary, who's had the misfortune of picking up night shifts recently.

NCO!Johnny who's voice shakes when he tries to recount the beast, slipping a little too far into a panicked gaelic before he hears a knock at the door. He sets the phone down.

Mind you, it's still very early hours of the morning, and he never expects any guests.

NCO!Johnny, who's never forgotten a lesson from his grandma, seared into his brain like the wards on the walls of his old cottage.

He grabs a pair of old iron shears.

The back of his neck prickles.

He looks through the peephole.

Soldier!Simon who hates Mexico. It's nothing like the highlands that he had grown to call home. His team was odd, but they were nice enough, for the most part. They worked well together.

Soldier!Simon, who approaches the cartel house, a huge mansion hidden in the words. The hair on his arms raises, like his body was trying to tell him something his mind didn't know. But he brushes it off as mission jitters.

Soldier!Simon who notices the rings of mushrooms around the mansion.

When they were young, Johnny used to tell him stories of mythological creatures, warnings his grandmother passed down of what to avoid and what not to avoid.

She called these things fae circles.

But they're all just stories, trying to scare little kids and teenagers into behaving.

He's a soldier now, he knows better.

They make their way to the side of the house, breaching the perimeter and filing in. He turns to make sure his Major gets in fine, and sees something just beyond the trees. Something massive, and lurking, and he blinks and it's gone.

Soldier!Simon who doesn't realize until the gun is turned on him that he's been betrayed, it isn't until he's bleeding out that he thinks of Johnny.

The stupid smile that cut through the clouded haze when he was a teen, after his father had been caught and arrested, his whole life uprooted and moved north to Scotland. Piercing blue eyes that lit up when he realized he was actually listening to him. When he fell out of the tree, and Johnny was the first person to run up and check if he was okay.

Captive!Simon who was pulled up by his hair, looking into the face of a beast that his mind couldn't quite comprehend, making his skin go cold and eyes go wide. A beast that feasted on blood or must've, something of the sort. It smelled like wet earth and rich iron, and something dark mouths around his skin. It sets off pins and needles beneath his flesh, worse than any torture he's endured yet. Something molds, and shifts, and he can't tell if he's screaming or not.

[REDACTED]!Simon who can't draw the line between feeling real and not existing at all. Something has shifted, like his bones don't sit right, his hands too heavy, his breath too slow.

He opens his eyes and finds his own, staring back at him.

Except they weren't. They weren't his. Those eyes blinked too hard at him, it's face splitting into a terrifying grin, too wide, with too many teeth, and it turns away. He's filled with dread, as the seeping darkness pulls him to his knees. The ground shifts around him, and he swears he sees mushrooms pop up around him.

The earth swallows him up, and he is no more.

No one's at his door.

NCO!Johnny who picks up the phone, still shaking, and apologizes to Gary, who thinks he's been eaten by a bear or something. He calms the poor kid's heart as he hangs the iron shears in his window, like his grandma is whispering in his ear.

Superstitious!Johnny, who doesn't sleep that night. He's never seen anything like that thing. It's massive, and it must thrive around his ecosystem, which would explain why the deer population was dwindling. It would need to support himself off of larger creatures.... would it....

Does it eat humans?

The hair on the back of his neck raises again, and he looks out the window.

Superstitious!Johnny, who finds himself looking for Simon's eyes. His real ones. Kind and soft and honey colored, ones that harden in an instant at the sight of something unjust, ones that sparkle when he talks too long. Not the ones that replaced him next door, muddy and cold and dark, not an ounce of kindness in them.

Whatever moved in next door was most certainly not the Simon that he knew.

Fae!Simon who exists in the woods. Something is familiar here. The smell, maybe. The taste of it on his tongue. Too much light hurt his eyes, but the green shade was calming. It soothed the too many voices in his head.

There's a warm light outside of the woods. It doesn't hurt his eyes. Its.... comforting. The deer skull on his face fits him like a mask. Antlers sprouted out, and he didn't know if it was him, or the skull. He didn't have much sense of self, so it didn't bother him too much.

Fae!Simon who's ears hurt when something beneath him bends and contorts, metal scraping and shrieking on itself. He crumples it in his grip, satisfied when it no longer makes noise. He drops it.

There's more light, and he looks up, pupils dilating as a figure appears.

It's bigger than the ones he's found in the woods, ones that smell like rot, ones there long before he found them. This one was upright. This one moved, and breathed, and smelled great.

Home, the beast in his chest purred at the sight of this little creature in the doorway, and the voices in his head quieted.

It was too bright, as a beacon shines in his eyes, shooting pain through his head, and he turns away, seeking the safety of the woods again.

Changeling!Ghost, who sees John on the phone. Witch, the voice inside of him growls. Witch.

Changeling!Ghost who's knuckles burn from the iron embedded into the door, who shouldn't have knocked in the first place.

Changeling/Replacement!Ghost, who vows that he needs to get rid of the fae in the forest. It's starting to intervene too much with his work.

Find part 1 here, and part 3 here

Taglist: @impossibletopronounce

Inspired by Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron

Questions? My ask box is open!!! <3

[ronearoundblindly]

Day Eighty-Three (1)

CEO!Steve Rogers x CEO!Reader

10 A.M., an It Had To Be You tale (see previous or series)

Summary: A joint meeting between AmCaps and the heads of four other major companies goes about as horribly as possible...or is it exactly as you expected? Either way, Steve messes up big time.

Warnings for (hi, I'm Ro) arguments, the absolute shittiness of misogyny, degrading use of petnames, language, social idjit!Steve (he honest-to-god tried his best but whoops). MINORS DNI. If this is not to your taste, please feel free to search lighter stories here. WC 2571

Sadly, the whole thing would have gone better if Tony Stark showed up.

Stark doesn’t do meetings like this though, and you may never bother with one again. You may have no need.

Clammy hands grip the leather spine of your monogrammed portfolio, comfortingly thick with the employee files you’ve brought as ammunition. This is a battle, no doubt in your mind, but Steve acts as if it’s any other day. To him, it probably is.

This is Steve’s fourteenth quarterly get-together of entities using the stabilizing, hydrostatic, insulated, electro-neutral, lead-dense (aka S.H.I.E.L.D) modules which American Capsules supplies. You’ve worked here for twelve of those but never been in the room.

The room feels as big as a concert hall with you an ant in the back pew.

Since the meeting is on your turf, you and Steve wait till the others arrive, your boyfriend highly aware of your nerves but without a clue as to why.

You’ve been preparing for this far longer than the not-quite three months you’ve held the title of co-CEO. It’s important to understand what is really happening between these companies and who exactly is to blame. It was also important to tell Steve nothing until you knew all the facts, and you didn’t until the phone call you just got off three minutes ago.

That’s not enough time. He’ll have to enjoy the show like everyone else,

Steve loosens his skinny black tie and repeats that you shouldn’t worry. He can take the lead. All the stats are printed in the binders laid in front of six chairs around the oblong table. He touches you, reassuringly he believes, at exactly the wrong moment.

Justin Hammer saunters through the door, clocking the intimate hand on your arm when Steve leans forward to whisper, “what’s wrong?” The outrageously pompous pumpkin sucks his teeth, winking at you, and spins to moonwalk closer. Hammer even goes so far as to cup your other elbow with an over-tanned palm.

“Peach, you’re gorgeous. Don’t ever change,” he flirts, damn well knowing that you aren’t the assistant anymore but are dating the man right beside him. “Hey, pal, how’s it going? Lookin’ sharp.”

Justin wheels the nearest chair away from the conference table and plunks down, lounging against the high-backed seat, swinging his feet up onto the adjacent chair. He may as well be at the beach.

He snaps, hand landing in a finger gun pointed at you—or your backside, more accurately, where he’s also staring.

“I like mine sweet and dark. Thanks. ‘Preciate you.”

There’s no elaboration. You’re just the coffee bitch to him.

What’s wrong, you want to tell Steve, what’s wrong is that asshole is only twenty-five percent of the shit I have to deal with this morning!

Before you or Steve can respond, however, the other three arrive in quick succession.

Darren Cross of Pym Technologies might actually be the least offensive of the bunch. His smile is polite and jovial, he greets Steve simply and shakes your hand, and he smacks Hammer’s calf hard enough to make a sound as he passes by.

He, unlike Justin, brought a briefcase, keeping up the illusion that he participates in the company he’s here to represent. Cross probably does still participate, considering he was only promoted recently after Hank Pym retired.

Aldrich Killian is undoubtedly (one of) the brains behind his think tank, AIM, and Brock Rumlow is undoubtedly smug, being a lowly former associate at Stark Industries, now an executive for the Roxxon Energy Corporation.

Each of them has skin in each other’s game; throughout the history of American Capsules’ products, innovations have been shared between them to either create suitable shipping containers or to have their products shipped via those containers. They’ve quite literally shielded their collective work.

It’s a symbiotic relationship.

It’s a circle jerk.

Killian and Rumlow do not bother to walk around and say hello. They fake niceties and unbutton their suit jackets to sit on the other side of the table.

Noticeably, none of them chose either ‘head’ of the table. No one was willing to take a position of power equal to Steve in his own house. Your boyfriend seems to interpret this as acquiescence of some sort—proof that they’ll blindly respect what and who Steve himself respects,—and then Steve wrongly decides to gently run his hand the rest of the way down your arm, his fingers curling to lift your limb until the very last second.

He made it look like you were reaching out for him, like you were a scared child in need of support. You are, in a sense, but he didn’t have to fucking advertise it to these men.

Steve doesn’t make mistakes. He did that on purpose. Maybe he meant to establish some sort of claim to you? To stop them objectifying you? Whatever they do now is solely out of respect or fear of him though, not you.

You’re frozen in place—in anger, truth be told—until Justin drops his feet to the floor dramatically.

“Indulge me, sweetcheeks.” He winks again. “I’m thirsty.”

Doing your very best Vanna White impression, you step back and sweep an arm out toward the drinks on the side server. “Help yourself,” you say with a smile.

It’s only because Justin is an idiot that he misses the dig.

Open to the page he wants, Steve tosses his binder to the wood surface, the slap of lamination to varnish attracting the attention of all the men, and takes his seat at the end.

You waltz to the other side, a clear and distinct separation between you and Steve, equals in life and work but opposites today.

“Shall we wait for Stark,” Rumlow growls in his low voice.

“Not necessary,” Steve allows. “If he shows, he shows. Let’s get to it.”

Steve begins, pointing out a few key concerns. Since you already know all of this, he doesn’t look to you while speaking, but neither do the other men when they respond.

They talk over you as if you’re not there, being blowhards and patting each other on the back for ’surviving in this economy.’ You let them go on. Steve gets nowhere. He gets excuses. He gets parroted promises.

Justin dismisses insufficient specs by saying he’s just a pretty face. He leaves all the numbers to nerds. He laughs about how he’ll have to check with his people about the nitty-gritty details, but he’s sure it’ll work out.

He stands to get his own black coffee, plopping three cubes of sugar in the chrome mug.

Rumlow barks out that shoddy Hammer tech nearly sank a Roxxon oil rig.

Justin feigns ignorance of the incident.

Killian uselessly offers a fix for that, at a price.

Darren argues that Pym has followed their agreement with AmCaps to the letter.

Everybody is fucking lying to themselves.

The shouting continues, escalating until it looks like Killian and Rumlow are close to throwing punches, though you’ve missed why those two are at odds.

Finally, Steve rises, stretching his hands out in peace.

“Everyone, calm down! Take a breath. Have some water. Sit.”

He’s stressed, clearly, defaulting to conditioned behavior which means Steve then looks right at you with a pleading expression.

Wrong again.

Darren lets out a huff and nods at you. “Yes, I think that would be nice.”

“I’ll take a glass,” Rumlow adds with a tap of the table in your direction.

Killian sighs an unmistakable ‘loser’ to Rumlow, and suddenly, the fight is back on.

Time to lock and load.

You cough and stand, flipping open the portfolio in front of you, adjusting your hips in your pencil skirt with a tug but only for affect. You know exactly what draws the attention of these men.

The room goes mostly quiet.

“Water. For the table,” you deadpan command Steve.

Picking up your copy of the report set, you clear your throat.

“I’m afraid Rogers has given you all the impression this is a negotiation. It’s not.” You slide the binder to the center. “It’s a courtesy. A courtesy which none of you deserve.”

“What the hell is she talking about?” Rumlow gruffly asks Steve.

“I’m talking about unpaid balances and unfulfilled orders. I’m talking about product tampering and verified illegal activity that hereby voids your contracts, effective immediately.”

Darren shoots out of his seat. “You can’t do that!” He turns to Steve. “She can’t do that, right?”

Steve, however, is blanched with shock. “Wait, I—“

“Each of your agreements with us—“ you barrel over his protest “—contains a morality clause which was broken by Hammer Tech when they conspired to produce a subpar protective lining and pad Roxxon gas sales in the region, unwittingly causing unsafe storage at a Stark factory in Galmira because the entire operation no longer followed American Capsules specifications—your specifications for transporting your own products.

“Pym,” you continue with force, “failed to produce compact enough items for the containers they ordered and instead chose to resell the regulated lining materials for a premium.” You toss a packet of papers down to Darren. “In your infinite wisdom, this also means you violated multiple Customs laws by forging shipping weights and ignoring safety guidelines.”

Killian puts a bejeweled hand over his vested heart. “Cross, you didn’t?”

“Which brings me to fucking AIM,” you grit.

“Precious,” Steve breaths with a warning tone, but you can’t stop. You’ve waited too long for this moment.

“Because who the hell do you think created the new formula for a light-weight, lower-cost, shitty lining?” You take such pleasure in stabbing a finger in his direction then flinging stapled proof across the table. “Evidence. Evidence of all of this provided by multiple sources. And you were warned…”

Now comes the really fun part.

You spread out eight folders.

“…warned by Roxxon’s own Betty Ross, Wanda Maximoff, and Kamala Khan. By Hammer’s Monica Rambeau and Kate Bishop. AIM’s doctors, Christine Palmer and Helen Cho, and finally, Pym Tech’s Mary Jane Watson—none of whom, I’m excited to say, work for you anymore.”

There’s a stunned heft to the frigidly controlled air in the large room. The florescent lights overhead buzz harshly.

“Are you fucking serious?” Killian rasps.

“Put your bitch back on her leash,” Rumlow bites to Steve.

“Don’t speak to her like—“

“Wait a minute,” Justin snorts, “I’m confused.”

“Your nerds will explain it to you once you crawl back into your hole.”

“Prec—” Steve snips in alarm but catches himself. He looks panicked and blind-sided, which he would be. You kept their complicity from him until you had everything you needed to invoke the morality clause.

You turn to the junior CEO for Pym Tech. “Expect a call from Hope Van Dyne. She has a few thoughts on Cross Technologies.”

Called out for his as-yet-unannounced rebranding of the company, Darren breaks, and he breaks viciously, vaulting the three chairs between you.

“Fucking cunt,” he screams through bared teeth.

Steve launches past the skittering seats and makes it to Cross milliseconds before he can intercept you.

“I didn’t make you lie, cheat, and steal,” you screech. “You screwed yourselves!”

Killian straightens his lapels and smooths his shirt nervously. “Surely, we can come to some arrangement.”

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Hammer adds.

Rumlow simply walks out with a shout of “you’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”

Steve slams Cross into the window, an ominous rattle shaking the frame, the cheek of the struggling man whining as it smears along the glass. When Darren still tries to hiss something else at you, Steve pins him against the wall instead, a forearm choking off any other choice words the bald man might offer.

“This meeting is over,” Steve grunts, pushing at Cross until the man settles.

“Right,” you sigh, keeping your voice as level as you can. “Gentlemen, I’d say get your houses in order, but I’m afraid the furniture is about to be repoed.”

Killian runs his hand through his styled hair. “Think I’ll leave you to talk some sense into your precious partner. Good day.”

You’ll never forgive Steve for blurting your private nickname out in front of the worst possible people to know it, but this is how you chose to play the meeting. You knew there’d be…pushback.

The AIM founder takes a lazy sip. “Thanks for the water, Rogers.” He taps his pinky ring several times on the glass, a hollow, high ting lingering after each strike, and then Aldrich heads for the door.

Steve releases Darren despite the wild look in his eyes, but Cross would be a fool to make any move except to leave. He gathers his things and slips through the exit before it fully closes.

The only one remaining is Justin Hammer, and he tosses out his arms with a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Kitten, come on. This is crazy. Isn’t this crazy? We’re all friends here. Let’s just chill, relax, and work this out. How ‘bout a drink?” More snaps. More finger guns. “You want coffee? Alright, perfect. Love ya. We’ll have coffee.” The man fidgets, sweat visible on his lip and forehead when he turns in the window’s light and approaches the drink cart.

“Sure thing, Justin. I take my coffee like I take my women—“ you smile “—from you.”

Okay, that part just felt good.

“That—” Hammer’s brow raises and he wipes down his jaw with one hand “—now that was uncalled for.”

Steve cuts in, a solid dismissal in the form of “I said ‘the meeting’s over.’”

“Oh, boy. You—well, you better watch…This ain’t over.” Hammer makes a fuss of buttoning his jacket again, puffing out his chest, then walking off even more empty-handed than he arrived.

The enormous, heavy door shuts slowly on buzzing, bright silence.

After a pause, Steve heaves out a breath.

“That went well.”

Sarcasm is not one of his strengths.

You’re not sure what you expected. You stand as a block of granite decor in the corner you retreated to once shit hit the fan.

It was the right decision. This was the right thing to do, the moral thing. It’s in the goddamn contract.

Though physically he shows no signs of duress—Steve used very little of his actual muscle to subdue Darren,—he hangs his head, stepping to your spot at the table to look at what you brought in. After a pause, Steve rubs his temple like it aches.

“I…I have no words,” he mutters, tone inscrutable.

You don’t care if he has words or not. You only have to wait until they’re out of the building.

“I don’t understand. What just happened?”

The door opens to reveal a bored-looking Topaz.

“Boss, Stark sent a catered lunch over. Where should they set up? It’s shawarma.”

“I don’t care,” Steve bursts. “Just take it down to R&D or something!”

That’s your cue to leave.

You shut your mostly-empty portfolio and tuck it to your chest.

A hand wraps around your wrist, unyielding.

Steve’s stormy blue eyes are felt more than seen, his hold tightening, trying to inch you closer, but you rip away.

“I’ll send you a memo,” you tell Steve without looking directly at him. “Keep those. I have copies.”

Fast as you can in heels and a skirt, you hurry after Topaz and past the food, fleeing first to your office and then to your own home.

[Day 83: 6pm]

[tender first aid drabble; Big Girls Don't Cry]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: Ahhhhh! Next up is how Steve makes it up to you...or at least starts to...😱😵‍💫🥴

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81

@bigtreefest @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

@fallinallinmendes @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses

[arkhamabyssfiles]

Arkham Abyss Files: Red Hood Memory II

LOADING FILE...

“I nearly flunked arts. Music I was fine, mostly because I was part of the choir,” Helena said.

“Seriously?” Jason asked incredulously. “How do you flunk arts?”

“It doesn’t interest me.” She shrugged. “I have better things to do and learn. It’s a waste of time–in my opinion.”

“You think beauty is a waste of time?” Jason asked, almost scandalized.

Helena turned bored eyes at him, “Yes. So what?”

“What—? How can you think that when you live surrounded by beautiful things?”

“They’re objects, what does it matter how they look if they accomplish a function?”

Jason couldn’t believe he of all people had to explain to this sinic Princess why beauty was important. Because he was sure she had all her life lived seeing places full of wonderful beautiful things, using pretty clothes, riding gorgeous cars—

Then he laughed a bit snidely. Of course, she had never known what it was to live without it.

“Maybe you should try wearing cheap used clothes or a deadbeat car. Or perhaps returning home to a place with no windows, no sunlight, and when you get out–there’s nothing green, no flowers, no color beyond the faded ad in a pan card selling you some brand that doesn't even exist anymore.”

Helena's expression didn't change much, the only thing he could note at least was a glint in her eyes that made her look far off, and he wondered at that. So far, she'd been amicable and annoyingly teasing.

“Are flowers and trees beautiful?” She asked.

Jason frowned, “Of course!”

“Well, I don’t like flowers. I do like trees, but I don't think of them as beautiful.”

“You don’t like flowers? What kind of Princess are you?”

At this, Helena laughed. And how could she not understand how a beautiful smile soothed some of the world’s darkness? Or maybe she didn’t want to see it for some reason…

“Princess? You think I’m a princess?” She asked.

Jason flushed a little, “Well—you are. Even Bruce is called ‘Prince of Gotham’.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Maybe I do am one. A princess who doesn’t like flowers nor cares for pretty things. I guess I’m a lousy princess then.”

“What about sunrises and sunsets? Everyone gets inspired by that.” Jason tried.

“They mark part of the day.” Helena turned her hand, indicating the passing of time.

“Dresses and shoes?” Girls liked those, right?

“Only if I need to use them and I prefer comfortable shoes.” She shot back, bored.

“How about music? Didn't you say you were in a choir?”

“I did. Out of—a promise of sorts. I have a good voice and others like to listen to it.”

“See? That inspires people because it's beautiful and soothing—assuming you do have a pretty voice,” Jason probed at her.

Helena shot him a mocking glance, “I’m not that lousy of a princess. I do have a nice enough voice.”

“Right,” Jason said dryly.

“But I wouldn’t care if I didn't.”

“What if you were ugly?”

“Oh, you think I'm beautiful?” She asked very pleased and walked towards him. Jason immediately put his arms up and stepped back.

“You are beautiful by human standards. It’s not a matter of opinion.”

“Pooh!” Pooh? Who talked like that in modern times? “So boring. So what if I was ugly? As long as I could still help others, who cares?”

“Believe me, many people care about not being beautiful enough.”

“Then they should make up by working on making their insides better.”

Jason rolled his eyes, “Only a pretty person would say that.”

“Too many people care too much for appearances,” She countered.

“Well, yes. But that's not the point. Beautiful and true things that transcend this world are what make it worth living if it was all ugly and depressing humans would’ve disappeared long ago.”

“You’re talking now about immaterial things—”

“No,” Jason paused and amended, “Not only about those—I really don’t understand that deep shit that much. I’m talking about sunsets, flowers, a good book, calligraphy, music—even if there’s a lot of trash music nowadays.”

Helena laughed again and stepped close to him again, her hands entwined behind her back. This time, Jason didn't step back, knowing full well that this was a tactic of hers to make him fumble or lose the line of reasoning he was on. Once she was nearly on his face, and her dark blue slanted eyes shining with mischief were so close he could count her long eyelashes if he wanted, she said softly.

“You aren’t convincing me.”

Jason huffed and ignored his slightly accelerated heartbeat. He looked up at the clock. It wasn’t that late, so if they went to sleep now, they could get up early in the morning before sunrise.

“Fine. Meet me in the garden at six a.m.”

“Ah! Are you asking me on a date already? And here I thought you didn’t even like me!”

Jason narrowed his eyes, put his index finger on her forehead, and pushed her back.

“It just annoys me to see someone so blind,” He said and then flickered her forehead.

“Ow!” She hissed and rubbed her forehead then glared a bit at him. “Fine, I’ll see you there, Knight of beautiful things!” Helena said, then stuck out her tongue, turned around, and ran out of the library.

Jason sighed and shook his head. She was a handful.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sunrise still was thirty minutes away, so it was plenty dark to still see the stars—at least in the opposite direction of Gotham with its perpetual shining. Luckily it was a rare February sky that was devoid of clouds. Helena wasn’t that happy of following, even if she had shown on her own. They were both sitting on one of the brick planters that held some rosebushes. 

“It’s cold,” She complained and buried herself deeper in her thick purple coat.

Jason rolled his eyes, “You won’t die, Princess.”

Helena humphed and scooted closer to him until she was stuck to his side, “Share your warmth then.”

As she had made the effort to be out here in the cold early dawn, he complied and didn’t move away from her. She sniffled and asked, “So what’s the great thing that will change my mind?”

Jason sighed and pointed toward the starry sky.

“Stars?”

“Just be quiet for a moment. Imagine there’s nothing else but what it’s in front of you right now. It’s just you and the sky.”

Minutes passed in silence then Helena broke it again, “I still don’t see it.”

Jason sighed, “I guess you’re a lost case then. You’ll live the rest of your days in a very dull way.”

“It doesn’t matter as long as I do what I can to help others to the best of my ability,” Helena defended. “As dull as my free time may seem to you.”

“That’s fine. Just don’t talk to me in public.”

Helena laughed, “You’re horrible! At least do you know some constellations?”

Oh well, even if he’d failed to prove his point, he was having fun at least. Then Jason proceeded to point out the few ones that could be made out, it wasn’t long before the first rays of the sun gently erased them from the sky. Helena said some stupid joke about shooting stars getting arrested and Jason laughed despite himself. His eyes turned to Helena, now that there was some light he could make out her expressions more clearly, and right now she was staring at him—with attentive eyes, and her lips were slightly parted. Then she blinked and looked ahead, towards the sunrise and all its colorful hues.

Then Jason saw a shine in her eyes and knew she was admiring the view now.

“Not so bad, huh?” He said.

“I guess—” Helena sent a quick look his way then back in front– “it’s not so bad,” She reluctantly admitted. Then she added quietly, “My Mom was beautiful. Even when she died.”

END OF MEMORY... For more FILES check previous entries...

[xchxsex]

2 Birds with 1 Stone: John Stone x afab reader

Warnings: mention of murder and suicide, graphic depictions, manipulation, oral (m receiving), degradation, praise, age gap, virgin reader, overstimulation, slapping

Being a cop had its ups and downs; you get to bring victims to justice, but you also witness some of the most graphic cases of abuse.

This case was no different.

Over some time, many girls have come up missing, all last seen at bars and all found getting into an old blue car.

They finally think they’ve found the man responsible: a man named John Stone who tended to keep to himself, living out far from the city.

You were called in to interrogate him, being one of the best at the station to get confessions. You were able to get inside their heads and trick them into revealing their darkest secrets and desires.

There’s just one problem with this man.

As you opened the case file, he immediately caught your eye. You were a sucker for the look of an older man, like many others. No wonder he got girls to come with him so easy.

This made you nervous. You tried to think of how to get him to talk, but none came to mind.

As you walked into the room, you tried to center yourself. If you couldn’t get him to talk, not only would families not be able to have their girls again, but it could also mess up your reputation.

Immediately he greets you with a slight smirk, his hands cuffed behind him.

“Well well well, aren’t you a pretty young thing.” He says.

You get a hitch in your throat and try to swallow it down. Sitting down in front of him, he adjusts his hips, moving them forward. As hard as you try, you can’t help but look down. Loose jeans, but with whatever is between his legs, they’re tight.

It’s been a while since you’ve been this close to any man. Your job took most of your time, or you just weren’t interested in those who asked for your number.

“Having a hard time focusing?,” he asks.

You quickly look up and meet his eyes. There’s a charm, a sexiness about them.

Crossing your legs and opening his file, your heart beating quickly, you start to ask him questions.

“So, i see you’ve served overseas?”

He smiles.

“Is that really what you want to ask?”

You bite your lip and close the files. You’re gonna have to be harder with him.

“No, it’s not. I want to know where all these girls bodies are. Their families deserve to have a proper burial for their loved one John.”

He laughs a sinister one.

“Can’t tell you where the bodies are… but i can tell you where i put the pieces.”

A chill goes down your spine. His smugness only makes you more curious about the man sitting in front of you.

“Let me ask you something,” he says,” why are you a cop? A little thing like you, if my hands weren’t cuffed, i could wrap both of my hands around that pretty neck of yours and choke you without you even being able to scream for help.”

The thought of his hands wrapped around your neck causes your body to react in a way you didn’t expect.

“And I’m also trained to take down men your size. I also have a taser and a gun that will cut you down to size if you try it.”

He laughs again.

“You’re a precious little thing aren’t ya? You forget that i was trained the same way darlin’.”

He’s trying to pick apart your ego, to make you feel threatened and scared.

“John, we’re getting off topic, you know where you put those bodies- pieces, stop calling me names and answer my questions.”

He knows he’s getting to you, getting you riled up is what he wants.

“Okay,” he settles into his chair,” then what do you want to know?,” he says.

You let out a huff, trying to keep your anger contained.

“You know what i want to know John, where did you put those girls?”

He bites his lip, looking down at your covered body. You catch his eyes wandering, ashamed at wondering what he thinks of it.

“You’re one of those good girls, I like you. Don’t worry little lady, I wont bite, unless you want me to.”

This might be a chance to wonder what he’s thinking.

“And what is a ‘good girl’ to you?,” you ask.

“A girl that doesn’t go around suckin’ and fuckin’ anything that walks, one of those girls that keeps their body to themselves. They stay covered, leaving it all to the imagination. You’re all covered up, not wearing a bunch of shit on your face. A natural beauty.”

You feel your cheeks flush at his words, holding what they make you feel from him. You can’t let him have the upper hand on you.

“See, if i was your daddy, i would be proud of you not dressing and acting like that.”

Not having a present father figure makes his words hurt more than they should.

“Actually my father is not around, my mom is who’s proud of me. I don’t need your validation.”

He tuts a little.

“You’re a sweet girl. I’ll tell you some things,” he says.

You let out a needed breath.

“Thank you, now-,” he cuts you off.

“But, only if you do a little something for me in return.”

Bargaining was something you had to do every now and then. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it went south.

“And what would that be?,” you ask.

He sighs. “You remind me of my wife. Killed herself a while ago. You’re sweet and innocent like her. Took two years of dating before she let me touch her, and god was it was amazing. I love usin’ a pretty girl that’s never been touched.”

You’re not sure where this is going, but the thought of him climbing on top of you and having you is beginning to make you throb.

“What exactly are you asking me?”

“Are you a virgin, princess? Cause you sure seem like it.”

You feel embarrassed now. How would he even know that about you?

“That’s none of your business,” you tell him.

“I take that as a yes,” he says.

“Okay? What is it that you want in exchange for information?,” you ask.

“I want you,” he says with no hesitation.

Your body responds quicker than your mind can, a whimper falls from your lips before you can stop it.

“W-why would you want me?,” you ask.

He licks his lips.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gotten to fuck a good girl? M’ sick and tired of fuckin’ these whores around here,” he leans in closer to the table,” if I’m going to prison, i want to be the man to take your body and introduce it to a world of pleasure.”

The idea shouldn’t sound as good as it does. You guess it would kill two birds with one stone.

“So, if i let you have me, you’ll tell me where those girls are?”

“Im a man of my word sweetheart.”

Your mind is hesitant, but your body is ready to handle whatever John has in store for you.

“Okay,” you say.

He smiles. “Good. But not here, we need to go somewhere private.”

You agree, but where?

“Where would we go then?”

“You sneak us both out of here, we can hop in the car and go somewhere hidden. Then I’ll tell you where they are.”

It’s risky, but you always have your gun, taser, and your fight in you. If you can get him to confess, it will help many families, maybe even get you a promotion.

“Deal,” you tell him.

You stand up and get him out of the chair, quickly seeing his large stature compared to yours. You grab his arm and cuffed hands, leading him out of the interrogation room. Your boss stops you.

“How’d it go?,” she asks.

“I got him to talk a little. Im taking him back to his cell before i tell you,” you lie.

“Okay good. Ill see you soon,” she says.

You both leave, taking him out the back door, near the cells.

Letting him in the passenger seat of your police car, you make sure he’s settled and still cuffed. He might be charming, but you’re in charge of keeping him calm.

You climb in the drivers side, joining him in.

“Im leaving the cuffs on you. Where do we go?”

“Thats alright darlin’, drive off this road and take a few right turns. There’s some scrub brush around there people don’t pass by much.”

You drive off, following his directions. You feel him eyeing you up, wondering how your body will feel in his hands. While driving, you’re a little distracted as well, thinking about what he might look like under those baggy clothes. Part of you also wonders just what are you about to experience: will it hurt? Will it be bad?

Soon, you arrive where he said. You start to get nervous at the thought of him having you, but you’re doing it for good reasons. Course, one of those reasons is a little more personal than the rest.

You pull over off the road, letting yourself out before walking around and opening his door. You go to get in the backseat before he stops you.

“I need to see if you’re worth fuckin’ first,” he turns himself around to where his legs are out of the door,” you’re gonna need to prove it, pretty girl.”

“And how would I do that?,” you ask.

“How about you start by shuttin’ that mouth and getting on your knees, hm?”

You do as he says, slowly lowering yourself in front of him.

“Good girl. You obey my commands. How about you take off my belt and pants?”

You unhook the black leather, opening it to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. You tug them down and are greeted with the sight of his length tightly packed into his dark underwear. Your insides twinge at the thought of it entering you, filling and stretching you out with ease.

“Now prove it to me. You suck my cock until i tell you to stop, and i suggest you listen to what i say.”

You’ve never been with a man in any sense. The furthest that you’ve ever gone was some light touching while kissing. This is all new.

“Never sucked one before have you? I get to be the first man in both of your holes hm?”

You nervously loop your fingers into his underwear, gently tugging them down until his cock springs up and out.

He lets out a groan of relief. “Get to it pretty girl.”

You wrap your hand around the base of him, your fingers barely touching all the way around. You slowly take him into your mouth, hearing him let out a grunt in response. Taking a few inches at a time, you settle into a pace that keeps you from gagging.

“Thats fuckin’ right little girl, you take that dick in that innocent little mouth of yours.”

His words cause you to choke slightly. Your eyes water as you come up.

“Take every inch down your throat and I’ll let you stop. Be a good girl and prove how much you want it.”

You take him again, working up to the depth you were at. Going deeper, you’re only halfway down him, not sure you can take anymore.

“Thats it baby, keep going. I want to watch you choke for me.”

You open up your throat as best you can, closing your eyes, working your way down until you feel the tickle of hair at the base of him.

“Good fuckin’ girl baby… one of em’s buried over between the lake and town line.”

You take his words as allowing you to come up. Tears dripping down your face, saliva dripping down your mouth.

“I love corrupting little girls into takin’ and beggin’ for a cock in their holes. I’ll fuck you nice and rough.”

You raise up and unlock the back door before he stops you again.

“What now?,” you say back, annoyed.

“Don’t take that tone with me little girl, or i wont fuck that little pussy of yours at all, understand?”

You hate that he has a power over you, but something about the way he talks like that to you makes you grow even wetter.

“Yes,” you say.

“Yes what?,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Y-yes sir.”

“Good girl, now, i was going to ask if you would take these cuffs off.”

That, you’re not sure about. He is still a wanted criminal.

“I don’t know if i should.”

“It’ll be hard for me to take your clothes off and grab onto your pretty curves with my hands tied behind me now wont it?”

He does have a point.

“Okay, but I’m putting them back on when we’re done.”

You take the keys out and let him out of the car to unlock his wrists. You put the cuffs back in your pocket.

Now that his hands are free, you can see how large they are. You need them grabbing onto your body, taking you the way he wants.

“Lay in the back,” he orders.

You climb into the backseat of the car, he follows, ending up on top of you.

“You still want me to fuck you?,” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer, with no hesitation.

He grabs hold of your body, kissing you roughly all over. You get his pants and underwear fully tugged down and off while he’s unbuttoning your top. It slides down your shoulders and lands in the floor. You’re left in a thin tank top with your bra.

He undoes your belt and tugs your pants down, revealing your thin, white underwear. He pulls away from you, seeing you laid underneath him.

“White’s a symbol of purity,” he begins to pull them down,” guess I’ll be takin’ these with me.”

He takes them off and puts them in his shirt pocket. He pushes your legs up, displaying you to him.

“Got a pretty little wet cunt on you.” He runs his fingers down your slit, slipping a finger into you. You wince at having something enter you for the first time.

“Nice and tight too, you want another?”

The more you open up, the more you crave him.

“Please,” you whine.

He slides another into you, his wide fingers stretching you more.

“Gotta get you nice and open before my cock tears you in half.”

He curls them up just right, finding a spot you never knew existed. You moan, grabbing onto the seat.

“Yeah? Making a mess on my fingers huh?” He smiles as he presses on your lower stomach.

“Show me those pretty tits,” he says.

You listen and do as he says, pulling up your bra to reveal yourself to him. He moves his hand and starts pumping himself.

“You’re getting me worked up babygirl.” Drops of pre cum drip on your stomach. His fingers still press into you, using the heel of his palm to rub your clit.

He takes his hand off his cock and gathers what dripped on his thumb, touching it to your lips.

“Clean it up dirty girl,” he invites you to suck it off. The mixture of you sucking his finger while his curl into you is building your pleasure.

His hand moves to your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipples.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on me? You wanna make a pretty mess on my cock next?”

“Mhmm,” you whine before an intense orgasm rocks your body. You moan, grabbing into his arm, fingers fucking you faster, prolonging your pleasure even more. Your back arches off the seat.

“Goddamnit you’re fuckin’ tight when you cum.”

Normally you would have finished by now, letting it subside as you caught your breath, but your body wont let go of it.

“Im still cumming,” you whine.

He smiles down at you.” Oh i know pretty girl, can’t wait to taste all that pretty cunt is giving me.”

Finally after what felt like hours, it subsides as his fingers slow. He pulls them out of you, admiring the wet, sticky mess you left behind. He brings his fingers to his lips, sucking the creamy mess off of them.

“Sweet, with a little bit of tang,” he says finishing up. “Now’s time for the real fun.” He unhooks and takes off the bra completely, throwing it aside.

Bare, you want to feel his skin completely on yours. You run your hands up his flannel shirt, wanting him to take it off.

“You want my top off?,” he smiles.

“Please”, you whine, moving your hands further up.

He gives into you, unbuttoning it and pulling it off. You’re finally satisfied being able to run your hands up his body, through his hair.

He towers back over you, pulling your legs on his. You start to get a little nervous. The feeling of his fingers hurt, and after seeing what he looks like, you know it’s going to hurt like hell.

“You ready for me?,” he asks.

“Yes,” you say, readying yourself.

He aligns himself at you, pressing in. It doesn’t hurt at first, but after a few seconds, it feels like fire.

“Ow,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Oh it’s gonna hurt darlin’. I’ll go slow. Tight little virgin pussy.”

He slowly slides in, closing your eyes tight, breathing picking up, trying to take him. Finally he stops, all the way inside you.

“Look at me,” he says.

You open your eyes back up, looking down to see him filling you up. The pain has subsided for now. You look back up at him.

“You okay? You’re openin’ up for me.”

“I think so,” you say, settling into the feeling of being full.

“It’s gonna keep hurtin’ baby. Just wait it out, alright?”

You nod, preparing for more pain. He starts to pull out and it begins to hurt again, but not as bad as before. He slowly moves in and out of you, waiting for you to fully open.

But when he moves into you a final time, pure hot pleasure shoots through your body. You let out a moan and he takes notice. He smiles, picking up the pace.

“Startin’ to like it, aren’t you?”

Tightening your body around him, you make out a “yes”, into his ear. His hand wraps around your neck and squeezes.

“Im gonna show you how a real man fucks a lady.”

He adjusts his legs up, moving further on top before slamming his hips into you so aggressively, you’re moving up and down with his movements. You cry out in unbearable pleasure, your body trying to fight back against it.

He holds your body close to his, completely pinning you down.

“So goddamn tight, you like gettin’ fucked like this, don’t you?,” he grunts in your ear.

“Yes, fuck!,” you moan, back arching further into him. You can’t believe you’re currently losing your virginity to a wanted man as an officer in the back of your own car.

He kisses you rough and sloppy, still pounding away at your insides effortlessly. His hand moves from your neck to your lower stomach, pressing down slightly.

“Feel how fuckin’ deep I am? Big cock stretching out your tight little womb,” he groans.

When he presses down, you can feel his tip hitting his hand through your skin, so deep you can feel him in your stomach.

“You know what i love even more than a good girl?”, he groans. “A good girl that can take a cock like a little fuckin’ whore.”

He raises up, lifting your hips up with him. The arch of your back causes him to go even deeper, hitting your spots even better. You grab hold of the seats as the only part of you touching is your upper back and head. You lift your legs up on his shoulders, pulling you even higher.

“God, thats the hottest fuckin’ thing Ive ever seen,” he groans.

You look down and see what he’s looking at. Because of the angle you’re at, your stomach is actually bulging outwards with his thrusts.

“You’re my dirty fuckin’ slut. Pretty little cock hungry girl,” he says with a slap to your cheek and a hand around your neck. You moan, that slap doing more to you than you expected. Your insides burn with a need of release, not knowing if he’ll allow you to relieve the ache.

“C-can I cum?,” you ask.

He leans over you, sweat beads forming on his forehead.

“Course you can babygirl, you’re being so good for me.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re grabbing on tightly to his body, coming undone around him while he continues to pound you into the seat. You’re crying out for him, begging him to slow down.

“Shut up and take it all, little girl,” he groans in your ear.

In a swift motion, he lowers you back down on the seat, quickly pulling your legs back on his shoulders.

“Fuck!,” you whine, extending your high out longer than you’ve ever felt.

“Thats it, dirty fuckin’ whore. Yeah? You like cummin’ around a cock don’t you girl?”

You’re finally starting to come down from it, but it doesn’t take long before you feel another one coming. Your legs are automatically trying to close, his neck stopping them.

“I suggest you keep those legs spread for me,” he leans in closer,” or you’re not cummin’ again anytime soon.”

You try and force your legs apart the best you can, wanting to be able to finish again. You pull them apart with your hands as you’re about to finish again.

“Bout to cum again already are we?,” he asks.

You nod, about to break for him. His hand wraps around your throat.

“You ask permission to cum sweetheart. Am i just gonna have to pull out before you make your pretty mess,” he leans in close to your ear, still pounding away,” or are you gonna be my good little cumslut and ask?”

“Please can i cum?!,” you cry, trying to delay it.

“Good girl. Cum for me.”

You moan out even louder, letting your mind and body unravel in his arms with an even more powerful orgasm than before.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth and take it,” he growls.

Your hands go down to his body, trying to push him away, to get him to slow down as you’re screaming in an overstimulated pleasure. He takes your wrists and pins them down.

“Don’t you dare try and fight me, little girl.”

Tears are streaming down your face, his thrusts finally slowing down.

“Y-yes sir,” you barely make out.

His movements stop, lowering your legs down as he pulls out and away from you. Its not long before your legs are spread apart and pushed back.

“Now that tight little hole is nice and stretched out for me,” he says with a spank to your crotch. “Alright, you’ve proven that you can suck and take a cock, now i want you to prove that you can ride one.”

Your legs are shaking from him, numb from being pinned.

He sits down in the seat beside you, smiling at you with a shit-eating grin.

You can’t do anything but whimper and whine at him, causing him more joy.

“You gonna come on and show me, or do i need to get you up myself?”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you know it probably wont be good. You manage to move enough to sit up, catching another look at him. Part of you wonders how he ever fit inside you. Reaching down, you see some blood on your fingers.

“Wait, I’m bleeding some,” you say.

He smiles. “Thats what happens when you get your little cherry popped. Now get your ass over here.”

You raise up and climb on him, sliding back down. You whine again at the feeling of being filled.

He kisses your chest and neck, still sitting on him. “You gonna start or am i gonna have to make you, sweetheart?”

You rock your hips on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He rests his hands around your torso, rubbing your nipples with his thumbs.

“Bounce that pretty ass and tits for me babydoll.”

You raise up and down on him, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“Thats my good girl, working those pretty little hips on me.”

You feel yourself starting to drift, all you can think about is your pleasure. Even though your legs are in pain, you can’t stop bouncing on him.

“Aw, i know that look,” he rests one of his hands on your cheek, sticking his thumb in your mouth, inviting you to suck it,” sweet little girl is cock drunk.”

Not long after, he starts gripping you tightly on your ass.

“You wanna know how it feels to get your little cunt filled?,” he growls in your ear.

“Mhmm,” you whine, your hips meeting his thrusts.

He groans, pushing you all the way down on him, his tip resting snug on your cervix.

You feel the warmth of his seed spurting into you, making you gasp. It’s an instant sensation, one that you know you want to feel again and again. Bits dribble out as you raise up and off of him. You rest against the door of the car, completely used. Even after how rough it was and how exhausted you are, it was undeniably amazing.

You both grab your clothes and put them back on, you without your underwear. You fix up your hair and whatever else was messed up on your body.

He puts his clothes back on quickly and easily.

“Alright, you held up your end, I’ll hold up mine.”

At the midst of all of that, you almost forgot what you were doing it for.

“Good. That was the deal.”

“How about i take you to one myself?,” he says.

You agree, allowing him back into the car.

He directs you further down the road, getting even deeper into the brush around. He’s been quiet on the ride there, only talking to tell you where to go. I guess you wouldn’t really want to talk if you knew that you were going to go to prison for most likely the rest of your life.

“Stop here,” he says. You’re stuck to the very end of just a patch of dirt, the road ending a while back.

You get out of the car, looking around, not seeing much.

“I don’t really see-“, you’re cut off with Johns hand wrapped around your throat. A crushing feeling, not like when he took your body, causing your body to go into fight or flight. Looking at his hand, you quickly realize your deadly mistake.

You forgot to cuff him.

You try and break his grip free around your neck. You reach down to your taser, quickly realizing your belt is also in the car.

Pure evil is the only way to describe whats in your eyes, laughing as you begin to stop struggling, vision going black.

“Oh sweetheart, there’s no body here,” he brings you closer to his face,” it’s where I’m puttin’ you.”

[why-the-heck-not]

19.11.23, sunday

I listened to Succession soundtrack a lot today and had about the most productive day I’ve had in so so long

things done today:

7h of coding

went to my sister’s kid’s birthday party (mario theme 🍄)

[kyurochurro]

patchy patchy who has stars in her eyes!!!

[kirby-the-gorb]

[daughterofhecata]

WIP ask game

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I was tagged by @borealopelta - thank you!

...I'm not putting *all* the file names down here, because that would be like. 50+ items. You're getting a selection of stuff I've been working on semi-recently instead.

a pretty safe bet

Abendstern cont.

coded talking Cotta/Reynolds

College AU

Cotta & Milo

Cotta-Reynolds thing

Cotta/Peter/Goodween

Demon love thingy

Dylan/Peter/Skinny

Escort fic

gym fic

i put the 'fun' in 'funeral'

justus/victor can't protect you

niemand ist so leicht zu durchschauen wie du

reunion fic

sexting divergence

Skinny/Justus/Victor

Sog

The Heart of a Dog

the perfect part about it is: it's all that i've got

weihnachtsfeier Cotta/Goodween #2

What Happens In Vegas

And my two original projects on top, if anyone is interested in that:

Nowhere Generation (Arbeitstitel)

Schneeschmelze

I am *also* not tagging as many people as I have WIPs.

Tagging: @crazy-walls, @pointwhitmark, @wodkapudding, @lalalenii, @bistdueinbaum & @miaisreadytorun, if you want to!

[sumeragi-hokuto]

Set 4 of chapter 3, volume 4 of the Tokyo Babylon manga. 9th chapter overall.

Cleaning/typesetting done by me, official Dark Horse translation used.

Select/open the images to view in higher quality.

Previous, Next

[rindemption]

oh I'm down bad

Dexon; Dark Urge, Talos War Cleric with a chaotic streak that unfortunately feeds the impulses. Only keeps his party alive because they're more useful breathing. I don't think a romance would be good for anyone

Therius; Vengeance Paladin, blunt and sometimes stern but with a soft spot for the little guys. Not above intimidating people to get the right thing done. Will eventually fall for Astarion once they both open up more

Aava; College of Lore Bard, quick to soothe tempers but slow to trust. She's carrying more blackmail than she'll ever admit, and will use it to keep herself safe and alive. Somehow finds herself already crushing on Karlach despite her own innate paranoia

I do plan on making at least 2 more: a dragonborn Dark Urge who will actually fight to be good, and a gnome for the sake of doing the 12 multi-classes and all the silly/stupid options.

But now back to Elamrael!

[freckleslikestars]

Room 115

Missing scene between Doggett and Scully in Deadalive.

637 words, read here on AO3

She was dozing in that same vinyl chair, hands curled protectively over her distended abdomen. It had been a long few days, he could feel the weight of them hanging off his bones, and he couldn’t imagine just how exhausted she must be to have crashed out in such an uncomfortable position. But he also knew there was no chance of getting her to leave Mulder’s side – he wondered how long the hospital staff had tried before giving up. With a glance back at the darkened room, he headed towards the nurse’s desk just down the hall.

‘Sir, visiting hours are over – have been for a couple of hours now. How’d you even get up here.’

‘With this,’ he flashed his badge. ‘Is there any chance we can get a cot or something for room 115? It’s just...she’s sleepin’ in that chair and in her condition-‘

‘This is the ICU, sir. Allowing her to stay is already highly unusual.’

‘Highly- the man’s been dead three months; it’s all highly unusual,’ he hissed, shaking his head. ‘Look, she just saved his life: can you at least spare her a pillow or some blankets or something?’

The nurse dropped her head and sighed, ‘I’ll see what I can do. I can’t guarantee anything, though.’

‘Thank you,’ he nodded, heading back towards room 115 and slipping quietly into the room. There was little visible change in Mulder, the monitors beeping away, his face the same scarred visage it had been when they’d dug him up, if slightly less peaky in colour, sans the tubes and wires that had been pumping life into him.

He crouched by the chair and rested a hand on Scully’s shoulder, shook her gently, ‘Agent Scully?’ She groaned, turning away from him, and he resisted a smile as he tried again to rouse her, ‘Dana, wake up.’

‘Mm. Doggett? ‘t’s’wrong? Mulder? Is- is he-?’ she wrenched herself upright, her neck cracking audibly and a muffled grunt leaving her lips as pain flashed across her face, gone in an instant and replaced with her fear.

‘Nothing. Nothing, calm down. No change.’

She slumped back down, letting her eyes slid shut again as she moaned, ‘why’d you wake me then?’

‘It’s been three days. Maybe you should go home, take a shower, get some rest – some proper rest.’

‘No. No, I’m not leaving him. I’m going to be right here when he wakes.’

‘Scully-‘

‘He’s been alone for months, Agent Doggett. I’m not leaving him alone again.’

‘Okay, okay,’ he rocked back onto his heels. ‘Can I at least get you something to eat?’

She smiled, nodded gently, ‘if you wouldn’t mind.’ She let out a sharp hiss and dropped her hand to the side of her stomach, her smile broadening. She looked up at him, took in his concerned expression, ‘kid’s got one hell of a right hook. They’ve, uh, they’ve been more active the last couple of days – like they know he’s here,’ she scoffed and shook her head. ‘Which is stupid. I imagine it’s got more to do with my emotions and hormones being all...out of wack, and that’s affecting the baby.’

‘You don’t have to explain it, Agent Scully. Maybe the kid does know he’s here: stranger things have happened.’

‘You can say that again,’ she sighed, rubbing circles wearily on the side of her stomach. ‘I’ve prayed for him to be returned so many times, and now he’s back I- I’ve got no idea what I’m going to say to him.’

He gave her a soft smile and patted her shoulder, ‘I’m sure you’ll know what to say when the time comes. Now, what can I get you to eat?’

‘Something spicy? Ooh, and something salty. I don’t mind what.’

‘Spicy and salty,’ he nodded, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Tagging @today-in-fic

[wabblebees]

.

[bmpmp3]

utaformatix... save me..

utaformatix

save me utaformatix

[afaramir]

Your ™ (aside from faramir obv) is how unhinged you are about denethor AND having the most correct takes abt him🧡. Oh and also oranges maybe

AAAA...THANK YOU ??? THIS KNOCKED ME FLAT like for real i cannot express how much ive been thinking about this ask all day. like i was in the grocery store thinking about it. i cant decide if it's funnier if you've been here since i was 19 and a hater and watched me have my dramatic change of heart in real time or if youre new here and don't know my tragic backstory. TO ME it's hilarious to be assigned denethor girl bc like teenage me is having a heart attack but i bear the badge with pride nevertheless <3333 and thats what we call character growth!

pj had totally got me with the mad-and-vindictive-with-despair denethor gambit for years and years but literally i started working on the faramir goes to rivendell au and thought for about two seconds about how complex both faramir and boromir's relationships with their father are and how the film changes genuinely weaken all of their characters so much and did a total 180 degree turn on a dime. by doing denethor dirty i would automatically be doing faramir dirty and then i started thinking and went hang on a second he is so complex and interesting actually. like i can't emphasize how much that was the exact logic that allowed me to achieve this development.

i mean okay LISTEN TO ME oh my GOD denethor IS a good leader there's a reason why gondor stood so long alone against the enemy and he NEARLY fucking beat SAURON in 30 years worth of head-to-head knock-down-drag-out psychic stalemate warfare and he only falls into despair when he loses both of his sons. you don't need to like him to respect the achievement!

i almost put a read more here but fuck it denethorposting on main. hit j on your keyboard or do a big scroll if youre sick of me LOL

i am very well known for going totally feral over duty vs love dynamics and that is literally what is going on between denethor and his sons. he cannot be their father and their commander at the same time and they are at war!!! being their commander has to win out above all else!!! whether any of them like it or not!!! do you know what ruthlessness means do you understand that duty wins this one.

do u guys understand that denethor and faramir are a father and son who love each other above else and yet do not like each other at all. there was a schism somewhere there along the line and love without bitterness and political sniping and ideological misalignment is a DISTANT MEMORY. No Of Course He Shouldn't Have Said He Wished Faramir And Boromir's Places Exchanged Jesus Christ No Son Should Have To Hear That From Their Father But Girl Sometimes When You're Grieving You Say Stupid Shit That You Shouldn't Have. doesn't mean you should've said it but [pippin voice] we can understand poor denethor a bit better, huh?

its just so interesting to me to think about faramir and denethor's relationship from a standpoint of like. ok listen good stewards that are not good fathers and dutiful sons who will not compromise their moral compasses for love. i don't like you and i agree with approximately 1% of everything you've said ever and your expectations of me have always been unreasonably high even when i was a child but you also are the only person who could ever understand the terrifying psychic powers that just live inside my brain and you are probably the incarnation of lordly dignity and power that i have had and i have wanted to emulate all my life and i still have the instinct to ask for your approval even if i'm going to hate what you're going to say. and when i'm dying i will call out for you. and i don't like you and your moral compass is going to get you and me and everyone in our city killed and you haven't listened to a single thing i've said since you were fourteen and i fucking hate that you're listening to and trusting the fucking wizard over me but you are my best captain and you are everything that i wished i could've been without the war and you'll never understand that that's why i pushed you so hard i just wanted you to live. and if you couldn't live at least we could die together. LISTEN i am a faramir girl until the death you all KNOW THIS BUT THESE TWO THINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE- [i am forcibly yanked offstage]