#and it stops when the drum starts building tension

[mofffun]

Jeramie's debut choir bgm from ep11 (1:08)

[cowgurrrl]

I Believe In You

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: A bet is made [3.0k]

Warnings: so many kisses I stopped counting, Joel talking about his past, parental death, slight angst (???) but lots of comfort (!!!), so many pet names, so much flirting, these two MAKE ME SICK

You thought getting back in the car would be awkward or silently suffocating you with tension. You thought he'd disappear when you finally found the strength to pull away from his stained lips or that he'd panic the way you had started to panic. He doesn't. 

When you look at him, he just smiles and caresses your chin gently. You're both slow to disentangle from each other, but the night's humidity warrants it. Still, he doesn't move very far once his hands are to himself again. You feel better or, at least, less crazy. Joel is somehow really got at making your shitty moments feel less shitty. "Do you wanna go home, or can I take you for some ice cream?" He asks, his voice a little hoarse, and you smile. Your lipstick is stuck to his mouth, but he doesn't seem to mind. He seems proud of it. When you reach out to smooth some of it away, he lets you get most of it before he presses a kiss to the pad of your thumb. Smug, you think to yourself. 

"I think ice cream sounds great." You say. He grabs the hand you used to wipe away the lipstick, interlocks your fingers, and escorts you to the passenger side to open the door for you. He doesn't let go until you're settled in the seat, and even then, he leans against the door, just looking at you. There's an adorably giddy twinkle in his eyes and a smear of lipstick on his chin. You have to kiss him one more time to fight the fuzzy feeling between your temples. You really meant for it to be quick so you could get ice cream, but he chases your lips and kisses you again. 

"I like kissin' you," he hums against your lips, and you laugh.

"Yeah?" 

"Oh, yeah. We should've done this sooner."

"You're a mess." You tease as you push him away. He stares at you fondly for another second or two before finally closing the door and jogging around to the other side to start the car. It takes a whole two red lights before he finally builds up the courage to rest a hand on your thigh, casually drumming the beat of an old country song into the fabric of your dress as he drives. 

The Sonic he pulls into is pretty dead, with only the tired workers and high school students filling the space. The neon lights of the signs buzz and crackle outside your window as you half-lean across Joel to look at the menu, even though you already know what you want. You order a cookie dough blast, and he orders a mint chocolate chip shake, which you make a face at. He catches you and furrows his eyebrows at you as he fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

"What's that look for?" He asks, and you shake your head. 

"You think you know someone." 

"D'you have a problem with my order?" 

"Mint chocolate chip ice cream is your go-to order? Seriously?" You ask, and he chuckles as he pays. You think about arguing with him about paying for you, but you can't imagine he'd take any money you offered, so you just go back to not not flirting with him. 

"Is this gonna be a deal-breaker for ya?"

"It just might be." Your smile betrays your words, and his hand again finds a place on your leg. Now that the dam is broken, it seems like his favorite thing is to have you close enough to touch, and you're not gonna be one to get in the way of that. You talk until your ice cream rolls its way to the truck, and then you enjoy the cold treats quietly. That is until you catch sight of one of the stray, fat cats lingering in the parking lot. You gasp and get Joel's attention, but he tries to act as excited as you feel. 

"I'm gonna go get one." You threaten, and Joel laughs.

"They'll scratch you."

"No, they won't. Cats love me," you point at a particular plump orange one. "I'd snag that one and take it home. Name it Tubs or somethin'."

"You'd be walkin' home with Tubs." He says, and you turn back to look at him, your jaw dropping slightly at him. He smirks at the reaction and takes a sip of his shake. 

"What? You don't like cats?" 

"'M allergic." He says, and you suck your teeth as you sink back into the seat.

"That sucks."

"Tell me bout it. Sarah used to leave milk out on the porch for the neighborhood cats to try and convince one of 'em to come live with us. Even told her second-grade teacher bout her little plan," he says. "Then, she had to tell 'em all bout how Daddy's allergy broke her heart."

"I think it's heartbreaking, and I'm an adult." You say, and he laughs, shaking his head at you. You trade stories back and forth between bites, and once your styrofoam cups are empty, you slide your uncomfortable heels off and stretch out across the bench seat. Joel doesn't hesitate to pull your legs across his lap and trace happy little circles into your calves as you talk. 

It's always been easy to talk to Joel, but in the privacy of his truck, it feels like it's second nature. He's a good listener, nodding and asking questions along the way, and tells his own stories without hesitation. You could probably sit there for hours and listen to him talk, especially as the nights get darker and his accent gets a little thicker. But you think his laugh is what gets you the most. That big, hearty, throwing-your-head-back kinda laugh that makes your heart sing.

"I can't believe that!" He laughs, and you shake your head, smiling. 

"What? That college is expensive, or that I ran a semi-successful tattoo business out of my apartment for a few months?" You ask, and he pinches your skin playfully, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you of his hands on you.

"I know college is expensive, smartass. I just can't believe you did that."

"Better believe it, maverick. There are some really successful adults out there with my shitty tattoos on them." 

"Were they really shitty, or are you tryna be modest again?" He asks, seeing right through you, and you squint at him. He copies the eagle-eyed stare, and you push at him a little, only a little annoyed at how good he is at reading you. 

"I guess we'll never know," you shrug. "C'mon, your turn. What were you like in college?"

"I didn't go to college." 

"Okay, what were you like during that time?"

"In high school, I was kinda pain in the ass. Showin' up late, not doin' my work, breakin' rules, makin' bad decisions." 

"A bad boy. I bet the girls musta loved you."

"Somethin' like that." He laughs. 

"What changed?" You ask, and he takes a deep breath. A crease forms between his eyebrows, and his jaw flexes as he thinks. The air in the truck seems to shift in seconds. You're about to take back the question and tell him he doesn't have to answer, or you can talk about something else, but he pushes forward.

"My dad died the first week of my senior year," he shakes his head, and you get a glimpse of the grieving seventeen-year-old who's probably always been just below the surface, but you couldn't see. He seems so small and so scared. Nothing like the man in front of you now. You put your hand over his without thinking. "It was a freak accident. Heart attack while he was workin'. There wasn't anythin' anyone could've done. My mom took over his contracting company and did her best but was strugglin' too. Tommy wasn't even a teenager yet, so I took over a lot of the day-to-day carin' for him, takin' him to school, gettin' groceries, homework, and all that. When I graduated, I took the company over from my mom and basically had to start over, and I've been doin' it ever since."

"I'm so sorry, Joel." The words feel like trying to put a bandaid on a bullet hole. You would think after so many centuries of people losing loved ones, we'd find something better to say to each other. Joel swallows thickly and shakes his head. He keeps his eyes glued to your hands and clears his throat of sudden emotion.

"'S alright. 'S been a few years." He mumbles, the fatherless seventeen-year-old vanishing and being replaced by the man who's been a father for longer than his dad was. 

"Still doesn't make it easier."

"No, it doesn't," he says. "I did think about goin' to college. I thought that once Tommy got through and settled, maybe I could go. But he enlisted right outta high school, and we had Sarah, and it just wasn't in the cards for me." 

"That's okay." You say, and he nods. You've never asked Ellie about her or Sarah's mother. The most you know is that she was a ward of the state before being adopted, and that's only because it's in her paperwork. It's not your place to ask about her, but now, you can't help the wonder brewing in the back of your mind. We had Sarah, he said. When did 'we' turn into 'I' and why?

"I don't regret it… havin' her so young. It was just hard. I was a kid, and she was so goddamn small and perfect, and I wasn't. Tommy was overseas. There'd be weeks where we didn't hear from him, and we were so fuckin' scared. Mom hasn't been all there since Dad died, and I can't even blame her," he says as his thumb taps against yours. "But I'd do it all over again if it meant I got to be that little girl's dad."

"You're a good dad," you say, and he scoffs. 

"Doesn't feel like it most days." He says. You sit up and look him in the eyes so he knows how genuine you are. 

"I'm serious, Joel. You're a good dad. Do you know how many parents don't even respond to my emails, let alone show up to discuss solutions with me? In my entire career, I haven't met a parent so involved and selfless. It's refreshing," you say. "And you're a good son. And a good brother. You should be really proud of yourself," he looks at you with heavy, emotional eyes and you double down. "I mean it." 

He takes a second to process your words, seemingly turning them over like rocks in his mind. When was the last time someone granted him the kindness of knowing how wanted he is? How important he is? How necessary he is? It might not be your responsibility, but you think it'd be okay if you took on a little bit of that mission. If only to get him to talk better of himself. 

"Thank you," he says, devastating tears welling in his eyes. "I mean it." You nod, and he squeezes your hand tightly like he's looking for grounding. You kiss his cheek, jaw, nose, everything to calm him down, and he kisses you in return. 

This kiss is different than the first one. Where that one was fire and impatience, this one is soft and slow, like you have all the time in the world. Your hand lands on his chest, and your fingers finally get to memorize the chain that's been taunting you all night. Kissing him— feeling the scratch of his beard, the heaviness of his hands, the almost hungry press of his lips— is addicting. He tastes like the mint chocolate chip shake you teased him for and your lipstick. Surprisingly, he's the one to break the kiss this time but tucks you under his arm before you can miss him too much. 

You cuddle into him and grab his hand to play with his fingers and count the freckles, scars, and marks on the bumps and valleys on his knuckles. You go back to a comfortable silence. He kisses your temple, jaw, and shoulder every few minutes like he forgets what your skin tastes like and desperately needs another hit. Whatever might be left in your cups has long since melted, and the cats have moved from one end of the parking lot to the other. You don't want the night to end. You don't want the morning light to reveal all your obligations and rules again. You want to sit in this deserted Sonic and talk about nothing with him. 

"So, if college wasn't in the cards for you, what is? What's the next thing?" You finally ask after letting the question simmer in your head for a while. 

"Besides gettin' my kids through school?" He asks against your temple, and you laugh. 

"Yeah. In a perfect world where you could do anything you wanted, what's the first thing you'd want to do? Not what you think you should or have to do. What do you want to do? Professionally or just in life." You poke his forearm to drive your point home. You thought it would take him a minute to think about his options, but he's quick with the answer. 

"I'd want to expand my dad's business. Maybe open up another department of homemade tables and nice chairs and stuff like that. Make it really worth somethin'." He says dreamily, and you smile. 

"Sounds nice," you say, and he hums. "What's stopping you?"

"Money. We have enough to do day-to-day operations and make a profit, but we don't have enough to take big leaps like the one I'm thinkin'."

"So, apply for money." You say, and he scoffs.

"Right. Easy."

"I'm serious. There's gotta be loans or grants out there for small business owners. Especially ones that are as dedicated as you." 

"I don't know. Aren't those things kinda based on luck?" He asks.

"And you don't think the Millers are due some luck?" You counter, and he sighs. "You can admit I'm right sometimes. It's okay." 

"Alright, simmer down there, sweetheart. I didn't say all that," he says. "Your turn. Perfect world, what's the first thing you'd want to do?"

"Get my work in a gallery and get people with way more money than me to buy my art so I can keep making more. In an absolutely perfect world, I'd be able to make things people really connect with and care about." You answer equally as fast as he did. 

"What's stoppin' you?" He asks.

"Nobody's taking my work. They keep saying they want something with more emotion or more of a story, and I just don't have time to make art like that right now. I know I could. It'd just be a lot." 

"What are you makin' now?"

"Shitty commissions that I don't really care about. They're just something to pay bills. Or if it's not shitty commissions, it's just shitty art." 

"Wow," he scoffs, and you turn to look at him, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Are you this mean to your students? 'Cause if you are, I think I've gotta report you to someone." He says, and you slap his arm. 

"No, c'mon. It's just, I don't know! It's different!" 

"You just don't think you deserve the same grace you give them 'cause you think you have to have everythin' figured out." 

"Damn, Miller!" You exclaim at his effortless analysis. If it wasn't so spot-on and unexpected, you might be embarrassed. He bows his head a little and smirks.

"You can say I'm right sometimes. It's okay." He echoes, and you roll your eyes. You adopt a deep voice and mimic him, making him laugh and swear that he "doesn't sound like that." He gets pensive again like he did when he started talking about his dad, and you sit up, waiting for whatever he might throw your way. "I have an idea," he says, and you smile. "How bout we make a deal? I'll apply for whatever fundin' is available, and you make those pieces and submit them to galleries, and we'll see who gets what. Either way, we both do somethin' that pushes us further."

"What? Like a bet?" 

"If that helps you get motivated, sure." He says, and you hum.

"What do I get if I win?" You ask. 

"Something to lord over me forever?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find plenty of those."

"Alright, if you win, I'll... do whatever classroom renovations you need or want for free for a whole school year." He says. You'd be lying if you said the idea wasn't a good one. You'd get to upgrade your classroom and stop things from falling apart while getting to watch Joel work. And it's free? It's too good of an opportunity to pass up. 

"Alright, and what do you get if you win?" You ask even though you have an idea of what he's going to say. 

"I want to take you out on a date. A real date. Not one these… what'd you call 'em?"

"Not dates?"

"Yeah," he says. "If I win, you have to let me take you on a real nice date. We'll get all dressed up, and I'll take you somewhere much fancier than fuckin' Sonic. I'd even make sure Ellie has no idea it's happenin' if it'll make you feel better." It sounds like a dream. You'd be stupid to say no.

"I think I can manage that." You agree, and he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you offer him your hand. "You've got yourself a bet, Miller. I hope you like climbing on tables."

"Gettin' cocky already?" He asks, squeezing your hand, and you shrug. "Alright, princess, it's on." 

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @casssiopeia @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 21

Hey guys!! The story is starting ramp up to the finish line! I hope you guys are still enjoying it as much I enjoyed writing it.

In this we have Steve taking back his agency, Eddie and Jeff having a little chat and Abbadon leaning on his friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

~

As soon as Abbadon grabbed the mic, the audience knew they were going to be in for a ride.

“Las Vegas!” he roared to the crowd, who roared back. “There seems to be some confusion about how naughty I got with Eddie Munson in Denver.”

The crowd went wild, screaming and jumping up and down.

“I never do anything without prior consent,” he grinned. “I’m a gentleman, until you tell me you want it otherwise.” He winked and the crowd screamed back. “I’m not saying I’m coming for Asmodeus’s job,” Abbadon said, draping himself over his guitarist’s shoulders, “but I’m no innocent. I don’t need protection.” He walked across the stage to Astraeus. “I’ve always been affectionate. But I think it’s time to be put the rumors to bed.”

“Oooooohhhhhh!” Asmodeus and Astraeus shouted and got the crowd to say it with them. Once they were loud enough, Azrael started rapidly tapping his drums to further build up tension.

Just when Abbadon was sure the tension couldn’t stretch much further he said, “I’m not a slut. I’m the slut!” The throng of people roared back. “And I’m not going to hide who I am to make myself palpable to people I’ve never met or no longer have any connection to me. I am Abbadon! I AM THE FALLEN!”

Waiting in the wings was Jeff and Eddie. They had gathered to watch Steve do this in person instead of watching it live in the green room.

Jeff cocked his head to the side and clicked his tongue. “Whatever else you think of Abbadon and the rest of the band, you have to admit the man has charisma.”

Eddie pressed his lips together and nodded. He was proud of Steve. Of course he was, but it did sting a little that it took Shane to get him to talk about it. Not him, Not Robin. Hell, not even Simon, whom Eddie thought was unhealthily close to Steve. Shane. Of all the band members, Shane had the least in common with Steve. Spence had the EMT thing, Simon, the upper class upbringing. Other than them liking metal, they couldn’t be further apart then if God planned it that way.

Shane came from a middle class liberal family with an older sister he was close with. Hell, he even still talked to his parents while Steve definitely did not. He was a giant nerd who loved history and myths. Steve struggled in school and only made it out alive because he was on three sports teams and captains of two of them. Shane even slept around to Steve’s search for ‘the one.’ Which Eddie really, really hoped was him.

But maybe that was it. Maybe the reason Shane could get through to Steve was because they didn’t have much in common. Maybe their connection were their differences. That they were friends in spite of the gap between them.

Eddie almost wanted to get Steve into therapy like Gareth was. Because even though it always seemed to him that Gareth was one drink away from destruction these days, the therapy did appear to be working.

Steve could really use something like that.

They watched the set a little bit longer.

“Are you sure you’re okay with Abbadon flirting with Gareth?” Jeff asked.

Eddie blinked for a moment wondering where the comment was coming from. Because, sure, Gareth had talked non-stop about Abbadon being his favorite member, even going as far as to tattoo Abbadon’s mask on his left bicep. But Gareth didn’t seem interested in Abbadon as a person.

And it wasn’t like Steve was really interested in him that way before or after becoming a rockstar.

“Gareth and Abbadon both say it’s fine,” he murmured after a moment or two. “And I trust Abbadon.”

Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah okay. So this time it’s not going to be the duet?”

“No, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Abbadon is going to be taking the lead vocals on ‘Might as Well Fly’, I think he’ll lend a haunting quality to it.”

Jeff pursed his lips. Steve definitely had the pipes for it, but it wasn’t the song out of their discography that he would have chosen for Abbadon to shred.

Eddie huffed beside him and crossed his arms in front of him. “Let me guess, you have other ideas?”

“Can Abbadon play guitar?” Jeff asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Eddie shrugged. “I mean, I guess. He’s like able to play piano, violin, and guitar. Can he play the song you’re thinking of is the real question.”

Jeff turned to him with a grin. “Oh, if I know our friend as well as I think I do, he knows it.”

Eddie frowned at him and cocked his head to the side. “Which one?”

Jeff told him and Eddie rubbed his lips, skeptical. It was a good song. Harder than ‘Might as Well Fly’ and faster too. It had an extra guitar to it because it originally featured a famous guitarist. But it was also the lead guitar on that song.

“Do you really think he can do it?” he asked, licking his upper lip slowly.

Jeff scoffed, “Why? Do you think he can’t?” Eddie just shrugged. “Because holy hell, dude, I was talking to Asmodeus and he was telling me they formed their band over their love of our music. I’m betting if you asked Abbadon he could list his favorite albums alphabetically, chronologically, or which one is best musically. Even before you guys got together, before their band, before we even got a record deal, he’s been your number one fan. And he’s got the chops for it. You know he does.”

Eddie looked around to make sure no one had heard Jeff’s impassioned speech. He ducked his head. “Have Abbadon meet us before we go on to discuss the change while they setup our equipment.”

Jeff grinned and licked his lips. “You won’t regret this. And neither will they.” He jutted his chin out at the roaring crowd.

And yeah, Eddie knew he was being ridiculous about the song. He was trying to play this safe, but Steve didn’t need safe right now. He needed to take back his agency and Eddie knew that this song? It was fucking perfect for Steve. They would be able to feed off the roar of the crowd and give Steve a chance to really show them how good he is.

~

Steve loved the idea of the change in song. Don’t get him wrong, he loved ‘Might as Well Fly’. It just wasn’t the vibe he was trying to send today. Steve already was flying. Now he was raging at the people who were trying to clip his wings. And fuck them.

It meant that he couldn’t start on Gareth’s lap, but that was okay. This was going to be better. A hell of a lot better.

He pulled on his Corroded Coffin logo lined coat and swapped his mask for the lighter everyday one. He was going to need the extra movement for these vocals. He started in the middle again, this time in front of Corroded Coffin instead of between them.

“Hey, Las Vegas!” Eddie cried. “You bitches ready to rock?”

The crowd screamed back and Eddie laughed. “We’ve got a treat for you tonight!” The crowd screamed even louder. “We don’t usually play ‘Nightmare Killer’ because we don’t have that third guitarist.”

The audience went wild, screaming and whistling and stomping their feet in excitement.

“We asked Asmodeus,” Eddie continued. “But he’s too cool for us!” The crowd made teasing booing noises and oohhed. “But that’s okay, we found someone else willing to play.”

The room fell to a hush as Abbadon’s spotlight came on. There was some uneasy wrestling from the audience as he stood with his ear mic and white guitar. Something that eagle-eyed fans would know about Eddie and Jeff was that they didn’t own a white guitar. And all The Fallen fans knew that all of Asmodeus’s guitars were red and vaguely devil themed. This wasn’t his either. This was clearly Abbadon’s.

Abbadon began the opening riff and the crowd took a massive intake of breath as he sailed perfectly through the chunky bits of the original artist’s style. Then he began to sing, the haunting quality of his voice filling in the gaps of the silence that seemed to stretch on from the audience.

Eddie didn’t even bother trying to hold back the look of admiration on his face as he joined Abbadon for the chorus. Their vocals mixing beautifully to the backdrop of a hell beast looking for more from life than the violence it was weaned on.

Throughout the song the only sounds from the crowd were clapping in time to the beat. Eddie had never seen anything like at their concerts before. It was like there was this reverence for what was happening on stage.

Abbadon ate it up and played it up as he enticed the members of Corroded Coffin to him. Each of the members resisted. Then Abbadon handed his guitar off to a roadie and climbed the stairs to the platform that Gareth was on. He straddled Gareth’s lap and drumming cut out as his bandmates played on. From behind it looked like they were kissing, but with Abbadon’s mic off they were making fun of each other. Then suddenly he whirled on Gareth’s lap and hit the drums right on the last note with a crash.

Then in an instant the crowd thundered to life, cheering and stomping and clapping.

Abbadon blew Gareth a kiss and leapt off the platform to take his bows. The flutter of the coat revealing the Corroded Coffin logo again and the crowd screamed even louder. He blew kisses to the crowd and continued to bow. Eddie whistled loudly and Abbadon laughed.

Eddie grabbed the microphone. “Abbadon everyone! One very talented son of bitch! Another round of applause everyone!”

The crowd continued to go wild. Abbadon let out a whoop and jumped up and down, laughing. It was exhilarating, everyone just feeding the energy back to Abbadon and just feeling high off that. Eddie and Jeff shared a glance and Jeff winked. Eddie shook his head. Because yeah, Jeff won that bet.

Abbadon waved goodbye and walked off the stage. Once he was out of view of the audience Hopper swooped in and immediately threw a cool, damp towel over his head and Steve nearly sank to his knees in relief. Because try as they might, the hoods were still fucking hot. Hopper lead him to the dressing room where the rests of The Fallen were waiting.

As soon as the door closed tightly behind Abbadon, Steve pushed back the hood and ripped off the mask. His hair was wet and sweat clung to his face and neck. He let himself sink slowly into the soft cushions of the sofa and laid his head back.

A bottled water was being pushed into his hand and an ice pack was placed on his brow. He let out a small shuddering breath. He opened the water and dumped half of it on his face and the rest into his mouth.

“Thanks, guys,” Steve muttered, his eyes fluttering shut. “How did I look out there?”

Simon huffed a little a laugh. “Like fucking rock god.”

“I’m with Simon,” Spence said. “It won’t silence the naysayers but it’ll drown them out which is even better.”

Steve laughed. “Fuck that was so much fun. Gareth called me a queen. So I called him a bitch. I honestly don’t know if he likes Abbadon more now, or less!”

“Considering how little time you had to prepare,” Shane said, sprawled over an armchair instead of on the floor for a change, “I say you kicked ass. You’re going to get people saying you weren’t really playing but, they can suck your dick!”

Steve lifted his head, the ice pack sliding into his hand. “I hate doing this without you guys, though,” he admitted. “But as Shane pointed out, I’m already super affectionate with you already and short of French kissing Simon, they aren’t going to believe shit.”

“Nothing against you, Steve,” Simon said with a wince, “but I really don’t want your tongue down my throat.”

Shane raised his hand. “I volunteer! I volunteer!”

They all laughed. Then Robin as Celeste slipped in and sat next to Steve. She grabbed the ice pack and pressed it to the back of her neck. They all waited as she let her defenses slowly come down. She pulled off the wig and tossed it Spence who caught it deftly.

“Vickie has been working tirelessly tonight to keep an eye on social media,” Robin began, “she even has two of her assistants watching all the accounts, constantly refreshing.”

Steve turned on the couch to face her. “And what are they saying?”

Simon and Spence immediately moved over to her to sit on either side of her and Steve. Shane sprawled over the back like some Renaissance painting. He rustled her hair and she huffed out a laugh.

“You’re getting the trolls from both fans shit talking about how Abbadon is better than Corroded Coffin and should have turned them down like Asmodeus,” she continued, pausing only for Simon’s huff of laughter. “The Corroded Coffin fans were whining about how Abbadon’s vocals ruined the song and that he probably faking the guitar playing for the views.”

“I’d like to see them fake that bridge,” Steve scoffed. “It’s insane.”

Simon nodded. “I don’t think I could do it.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s what I’ll do. I’ll post a Tiktok of me trying to play it.”

“Wait!” Spence said. “Have Steve do it first, showing a close up of the hands dancing on the frets. Then you stitch it with your version. That should kick them in the ass.”

Steve and Simon fist bumped each other. “Hell yeah!”

“But the rest of the tweets and shit coming in is overwhelmingly positive,” Robin finished. “So that Tiktok should silence the Corroded Coffin fans.”

When Simon did his stitch of Steve’s video he made sure to admonish their fans about thinking who’s better than who. He was friends with the boys in CC and the being ‘too cool’ was a fucking joke.

Then Eddie did a stitch of both of their videos and showed them again how complicated the riff was for Abbadon to play by playing it himself. Abbadon and Asmodeus’s videos racked up a lot of views and shares, but Eddie’s really did the numbers. It blew up and completely overshadowed all the haters.

Steve made sure to thank Eddie for that later in the privacy of Eddie’s hotel room.

`

Tag List: CLOSED

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2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[v0rewhxre]

Punished Part 2

The very highly anticipated part 2 to my punished blurb I wrote randomly last week! Thank you all so much for the support and love! I was not expecting this story to take off!

Also the first two paragraphs are from part 1 if they seem familiar!

18+ MDNI

CW: [f masturbation, m masturbation, slight throat grasping, p in v unprotected sex, restraint play, blindfolds, sensory play, oral f receiving, edging, pull out method, slightly dom Noah, slightly dom reader, slightly mean Noah, mentions of sex toys, mentions of squirting]

He waited a moment before moving his gaze to me. The expression on his face was cocky, there was no remorse in those eyes from the incident he just pulled. He simply grabbed a t-shirt and wiped himself off, getting up to go about his day.

Before he stepped outside the bedroom door, he turned and said, "If you touch yourself, I will do that again later. If you use your vibrator I will do that every day for the rest of the week, then you'll miss me," He said before walking away leaving me in practically a puddle of my own mess and tears.

*Later that day*

The soft hum of my vibrator was the only sound in our large airy bedroom. There was a slick sweat that coated my entire body. My hips were moving in rhythm, coming off the bed so I could get the most pressure on my clit. Noah had left the house for the afternoon to work on some fancy drum engineering stuff with Matt and Folio. This provided the perfect opportunity to finally get the release I needed.

The entire day sucked. Noah was extremely arrogant and moody all day. I knew this could only mean he was having a hard time with a new song. Although he had done a lot of work in therapy, these mood swings still came out. I didn't mind the mood swings occasionally, usually they led to really hot sex with Noah. Not today I guess...

The pleasure building throughout my pelvis started to become more intense at the thoughts of Noah throwing me around bed. I focused on this one particular time where Noah fucked me so hard I squirted all over him, making a huge mess. We ended up laughing about it for weeks afterwards. To this day I swear I actually peed, but he reassured me that was not the case.

Finally, my orgasm was right on the cusp. I continued the same swirl pattern on my clit allowing myself to go over the edge. I moaned so loudly; all the tension from earlier pouring out of me in waves of ecstasy. Fuck Noah and his stupid fucking rule, if I want to cum I will.

After my orgasm finished I set my vibrator back in the nightstand drawer, remade the bed, and took a quick shower. There would be no evidence for Noah to find.

When Noah came home, he was still a little off but seemed a lot happier. They must have cooked up something real good in the studio. I had no doubt Matt and Folio wrote some insane drum parts for the next album.

"What did you get up to today?" Noah asked quizzically, raising one eyebrow. It took all my energy to keep my cheeks from heating when he asked. I felt bad about lying but I could not deal with watching Noah get off once again without me.

"I just spent the day watching shows, and I did a bit of cleaning," I said casually. It wasn't a lie at all, I had cleaned the house and watched a few episodes of Attack On Titan.

"Interesting," Noah said slowly.

"Interesting indeed," I mimicked his tone.

With that Noah got off the couch and proceeded down the hallway towards our bedroom. I raced to follow his long strides, almost running into him as he stopped at my nightstand right inside the door.

"Are you sure you just cleaned and watched shows?" Noah asked as he opened the drawer to inspect the many toys I had.

"Yes I am sure," I said quietly.

"Try again... this time, don't lie," Noah said as he selected the very vibrator I had used earlier.

I had made one fatal error, I did not clean it off.

"Noah I..." but I was cut off by the a loud sniff. I watched as Noah ran his nose up the entire length of the vibrator, inhaling the now dried arousal I had produced earlier.

"You think I wouldn't recognize the smell of your pussy, y/n?" Noah said placing the vibrator down in the drawer. He turned slowly towards me, his height and muscular frame becoming menacing as the light faded away with the setting sun.

"What did I tell you earlier?" he said taking a step towards me, firmly grasping my throat with his hand. He wasn't cutting off my airway, he knew that was one thing that really scared me, but he knew his grasp could control anything I did.

"Noah, please. I can't watch you jerk off again. It drove me insane. Please, I'll do anything... please just please," I said stifling the sob that was coming up my throat.

"Tskk, y/n that wasn't part of the deal now was it love?" Noah said.

He kept one hand wrapped around my throat while he used the other to slowly pull down his pants. My eyes widened as I watched his cock spring free, already half hard just from the thought of me masturbating. A win is a win I suppose.

I looked up at Noah's eyes, they were pitch black in the dark room. He smirked at me as he leaned down and spit in his hand. My pussy almost flooded the entire room. The fucker knew how much I loved spit. His hand now started slowly moving up and down his cock, the only sound in the room was his saliva smacking as he rubbed.

His eyes rolled back slightly as he let his head hang, he seemed to have been waiting for another release all day. The mere thought he tortured me turned him on. God, I fucking hated him.

"Noah, I will literally get on my knees and beg right now. I cannot do this again," I said urgently as I noticed his pace quickened by the sound of his hand moving back and forth.

His hand let up slightly on my throat, I wasn't sure if it was from my pleads or because he was so turned on he was already falling apart. I used this opportunity to slip from his grasp, jumping into him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, legs around his waist.

Noah stumbled slightly backwards but maintained his balance as I literally attacked him. My mouth was on his before he could protest, our lips colliding with such force I was concerned I knocked a tooth out. I kissed him so deeply, forcing my tongue into his mouth to explore every inch. His tongue battled mine, trying to push mine away with no prevail. His arms snaked around me, resting just above my ass. I had him.

I ground my hips against his cock, the angle allowing me to rub my pussy up his length. I moved at an agonizing pace which earned a few frustrated huffs from Noah's mouth into mine.

Next thing I knew my back was against the bedroom wall, Noah now matching my hip thrusts with his own. His precum leaked all over my body, coating me in a sticky mess. Oh my god was I turned on.

I pulled away slightly, grabbing Noah's ear lob between my teeth. I whispered in a low sensual voice, "Fuck me like the naughty girl I am, Noah".

His cock slammed into me. Hard. I don't even know how it happened, I didn't remember him lining himself with my pussy.

The dark room now filled with the sounds of our skin slapping, us moaning, and my back pounding against the wall. He thrusted so hard I could barely even think, reaching the deepest part of my core.

I let my head fall back, smiling to myself as I knew I had won. Or had I?

Noah moved us to the bed, laying me in the mass of pillows that we had. We were often a little freaky in the bedroom. We had restraints already attached to the posts of our bed, awaiting to be used when Noah and I wanted.

Noah's cock left me while he moved to tie me to the bed. The Velcro cuffs were comfortable around my wrists and ankles. What I wasn't expecting was the sleep mask Noah placed around my head and over my eyes.

I couldn't move and I could not see, a dangerous game to play with a man who loved control.

My senses heightened as the anticipation did, I could feel the bed move but I had no idea where Noah was.

One finger. One finger trailed slowly from my ankle all the way up to my chin. He moved his finger as light as a feather, a trail of goosebumps following in its wake. My clit was practically screaming to be touched as another finger moved over my body, then three fingers fanned their way up. All purposely missing the one place I wanted to be touched. He didn't even give me a nipple touch.

One little kiss. One little soft kiss full of love was placed on my hip. Then another soft kiss on the other hip. One on my stomach. One on my right forearm, then the left. A soft kiss placed on my chin, forehead, right cheek, left. Then Noah softly brushed over my lips with his, a kiss that sent electricity throughout my body as it had the very first time he kissed me.

"I love you, Noah," I whispered out into the room, unsure where he was.

"I love you more," He replied as his finger lightly brushed over my pussy. He didn't apply enough pressure to breakthrough my folds, which was frustrating. My back arched slightly, seeking out his finger again. Instead I was met with hot breath, and one very wet tongue. Noah licked me this time, again he did so very lightly.

He pulled away, lifting one leg with him and placing it over his shoulder. He moved the other on his shoulder. Based on the position I was in, he must have been bent low on the bed or the restraints were let out enough to accommodate.

Teeth. I felt teeth next taking a small bite of my left inner thigh. It was only inches away from my pussy. He took another bite on my right inner thigh. Then he moved back to the other, inching slightly towards my center. Another, then another, then another, then... oh my god!!!

Noah took a small bite and pulled my clit with his teeth. It was hard enough to evoke shock throughout my entire body. It hurt, yet was quite satisfying. I felt my pussy clench around nothing, desperately wanting to be filled again by Noah's cock.

Noah released my clit, then brought his tongue back into the equation by spreading my folds open. His tongue was met with his lips, as he began licking and sucking my entire being. Now my hips began to move again, desperately seeking a release that I needed once again. Noah now moved lower, tongue fucking my pussy expertly by hooking it just inside. He pulled away only to spit on me, acting like his glorious meal was filth. Jesus, I couldn't take this any longer.

My moans began to get louder and louder, and so did the sounds coming from my pussy. The pleasure was now dimly burned in my lower belly, I could feel my toes begin to curl in the restraints.

"Noah, please.... I need to feel you inside... please," I whined desperately.

My legs were off his shoulders, my butt was back on the bed again.

Cock. I felt the head of his cock slowly moving up and down between my folds, doing slow circles around my clit before going back down. He slightly pressed in, just breaking through my entrance before moving back upwards. I moved my hips towards Noah's cock, moving against him to create more friction. He pulled away.

A few moments later he was back, moving slowly up and down again.

"Do you want it?" he cockily said as if he didn't already know the answer. I could hear his stupid smile from where my head rested. As if to prove his point, he put the entire tip in and thrusted only the tip which drove me insane. He pulled out asking again, by emphasizing every word he said, "Y/n, do... you... want.... it?"

"Do you want it?" I threw back, lifting my hips towards where I believed he was sitting. I giggled slightly, knowing I was being a brat and that I drove him crazy.

He chuckled back, "You really are such a naughty girl aren't you? Luckily you have such a pretty pussy".

His cock entered me again, but this time he went in all the way. I had no time to adjust to him before he was slamming into me once again. His arms were wrapped under my thighs, lifting me to the perfect angle. This time I knew he was just as needy as I was, his cock throbbed.

Noah grunted as he picked up the pace even more, his new workout regiment allowed him to have more stamina than ever. He was able to thrust harder and faster for longer. My moans once again filled the room in sync with his. I could hear the sound of our skin slapping against one another. He squeezed my thighs with his hands to keep from loosing grip, we both were coated in sweat now.

"Noah...." I warned, he knew I was close. My pussy was pulsing and throbbing, my orgasm was built up to the max.

"I know," he breathed back.

Suddenly, he was over me completely and his lips were grazing my ear. His moans filled my ears, sending me into a sensory overload as I plunged over. My orgasm came fast, I screamed out Noah's name which I knew probably hurt his ear. He road me through my orgasm for a few seconds before he pulled out. His cum sprayed all over my stomach and lower boobs. I felt each string as it landed on me. I had wished I could see it, but just feeling him release on me was enough. This was a punishment after all.

Once we both were done, Noah plopped on top of me creating even more of a mess for us to clean up.

"You do a great job at making rules and an even better job with your punishments," I laughed into the top of his head, rubbing it in that his punishment was indeed not sufficient for the crime.

"Yeah, yeah," he moaned into the crook of my neck.

I smiled to myself as Noah dozed off, until I realized he fell asleep on me and I couldn't move.

I suppose an impending uti was punishment indeed...

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

I hope you all enjoyed! I little different than I intended to write it but this just came to me and I think it works :)

[monster-disaster]

[orc] Zorag Iron - 2/3

orc!Zorag Iron x human!Reader - 2/3 Good to know: smut

Summary: Your argument with Zorag takes a sudden turn.

The rain is still heavy and restless. It pours from the dark sky, drumming on the roof of the van. The wipers on the windshield move back and forth without pause. Their clicking is a constant noise in the background, mixing with the songs coming from the radio. None of you pay attention to it. You can barely see the road through the window, and you definitely can't see the name of the streets.

"They will still be open, right?" You ask, glancing at the clock. If they didn't decide to close sooner because of the weather, they should. You only hope you didn't come all this way for nothing. And the orc next to you thinks the same thing. "I hope so," Zorag grunts. "If not, I will find someone to take care of the orders."

"Turn to the left," you are the one who breaks the silence again. "Now, Zorag!" "That's the wrong way." "No, it's not. I have been there before." "Me too," he continues to argue with you, passing the left turn completely. "I know how to drive, Ruby." You roll your eyes. "Of course, you know." His frown deepens. You aren't even sure what he looks like without the wrinkle between his thick brows. "What do you mean by that?" He grunts. "Why can't you listen to me?" You ask him, pulling your arm tighter in front of your chest. "That was the right way." "Or maybe…" Sarcasm drips from each word he says. "Maybe there are several other ways to get to the address."

You know he is right. And you want to pull on his hair because of it.

Soon, you reach your destination, and fortunately, the gates open in front of you immediately. One of the workers shows you where to go, and Zorag parks down in front of a building that looks familiar that you have in the lumberyard. Nobody is outside, but you can hear the others working inside. "Stay here," Zorag grunts. "I will be quick." The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. "I bet." The line of his jaw clenches into a hard line but says nothing. The only reply you get is the hard thud of the door as he pushes it shut.

Zorag is at his wits' end with you. But he always feels like this when you're around. No matter what you do or say, there is a twitch in his stomach that makes him want to spank you and kiss you senseless at the same time. You are bossy and bratty. You always want to tell him what to do and how to do it. You always think you know better, and you are not afraid to tell him that. He has every reason to dislike you, and still. Here he is. Half hard, even after your comment about his quickness. He can't help it, though. The van is small compared to him. You were close to him the whole time, with your sweet scent mixed with the rain. Your shirt clung to your body, showing off the soft swell of your breasts and the gentle slope of your collarbone. Your hair is still a mess even after drying in the warmth of the car.

You sit and watch the men take the planks out of the back. Zorag helps them. The hood over his head hides half of his face, but you can still see the thick tusks between his lips. You can't hear what he says, but the deep rumble of his words reaches your ears and resonate in your core. He seems even bigger next to the humans. He towers over them with his broad shoulders and muscles that make his coat stretch around his arms. You can't help but stare at him the whole time.

When everything is done, the orc sits back in the car and starts the engine with a roar. The end of his dreadlocks is wet, dripping down onto his thighs. The dark jeans he wears soak them up.

"Well," you speak up. The air is heavy and tense between you two. "I'm glad it's done." Zorag just grunts. "Thanks for coming with me," you try again. He nods but says nothing.

The tension doesn't lessen, and you start to worry. Maybe you really pushed him too far? The thought almost feels comical. There is no way Zorag would get mad at you just because of a snarky comment. You two do it all the time. That's the base of your relationship. You are angry at him, he is angry at you, and that's it. Life goes on. At least, that's what you try to tell yourself the whole way back to the lumberyard in your hometown.

You don't try to speak with him anymore, and he doesn't say anything either. Your eyes are on the window, watching the trees passing by through the rain. The forest is dark, and it seems unforgivable. Lush greens surround the mountains in the background. Their tops disappear in the dark clouds. The sky flashes here and there, and thunder shakes through the air.

You can't wait to get home.

When the van stops in the protection of the storage, you can't help but sigh with relief. The day was longer than you anticipated. The sun is ready to disappear behind the trees, and the dark clouds are still thick and loud. Another flash. Another rumble.

For a second, you just stare at the orc when both of you get out of the car. You are leaning against the door while he puts the keys back in their place. He is still tense and quiet. You can see his taut muscles even through the layers of his clothes.

"Zorag?" You break the silence after biting your bottom lip almost to bleeding. He grunts in acknowledgment, and you roll your eyes. "Hey," you sound almost angry. "I'm sorry okay? My comment clearly hit a sore spot, and I apologize for it. I didn't mean it." Apologizing to Zorag is new. You feel awkward, and you just want to be done with it.

And you are clearly doing it wrong.

His body froze for a long second before turning back to you with a low growl. His dark eyes seem even more dangerous than the storm outside. The hoops around his tusks glint under the dim light of the storage.

"Hit a sore spot?" He spits. Oh, oh. "I mean…" you gasp. "I didn't mean it like that. I just… It was too much, and I know that now." Before you know it, he is in front of you. His tall form towers over you, caging you against the car as you press your back to the door some more. "Why are you so upset about it anyway?" You ask him, frowning. When your attempt to apologize takes you nowhere with the orc, you choose another route. You argue. You want to fight because you are familiar with it. You know what to expect from it, and in a strange way, it gives you comfort. So you are almost shocked when, instead of snapping at you, Zorag smirks. And damn, he is really handsome when he does that. The curve of his lips is crooked because of his tusks, but it still stirs something in you. "What?" You snap. "What are you doing?" Tension keeps your back straight against the van. "If you really want to know how long I last in bed, you only have to ask." You scoff. Heat creeps up on your face. Your lips open and close as you try to come up with something. "I don't- I mean- I-" "Don't lie to me, Ruby," he warns you. "Maybe my nose is not as good as the shifters', but I notice everything." His words fan over you as he leans closer to your ear. The ring in his nose feels cold on the warm skin of your neck. Your whole body shakes at his closeness. "What are you doing?" You gasp.

What is he doing, really? Zorag isn't even sure himself. The only thing he knows is that there is no way he will let you go this time. You and his own thoughts drove him crazy the whole way back to the lumberyard.

"Tell me you don't want it," he says. His voice is a low rumble. "Tell me you don't clench your pretty thighs every time we argue. Tell me you don't get excited when we fight." You really want to tell him all those things. They are on the tip of your tongue. Lies. Lies. Lies. "That's what I thought," he hums when you say nothing.

The kiss starts slowly, giving you a chance to say no. Just a brush of his lips across yours. Soft and warm. The loops on his tusks are cold. For a second, you are not even sure if he can kiss you fully because of his teeth, but then he presses his lips against yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, demanding everything you can give him. One of his arms wraps around your torso, pulling you to his body and away from the car. He is devouring you. Cradling your head in his large palm, his thumb caresses the soft spot under your ear. His chest is large and hard under your hands. You burn and ache in his arms. The feeling of his tusks pressing into your skin makes you gasp against his lips. Your mind wanders to how it would feel between your legs.

After a while, he breaks the kiss but doesn't step away from you. His breath is hot against your cheeks. Your lips are swollen, and the throbbing between your legs is in sync with the rapid beating of your heart.

"Well," you gulp. Your nails dig into his coats to keep him close. "You proved nothing." His laugh is booming. The pleasant sound runs through your body. "I really hoped you would say that," he grins with mischief in his dark eyes. His arm falls away from your body after another quick kiss as he lowers himself to his knees. Oh. "Here?" You gasp, looking around even though you know nobody else is here. The door of the storage is open, the rain still pours, and you can barely see the forest surrounding the yard. "Here," he replies. "I don't think this pussy could wait any longer either." Your back falls against the car again. His thick finger brushes over your center through your jeans. Your stomach twitches at the feeling. A breathy gasp leaves your lips when he tugs on your pants and panties until they are thrown down on the floor a few meters away from you. The cold air sends shivers through your body, and your toes curl with anticipation.

Your scent fills Zogar's nostrils to the point the blood in his veins flows and burns with desire. His mouth waters at the pretty sight of your pussy. His palms smooth over the flesh of your thighs, gripping the back of your knees to pull your legs apart until he can see your folds. Wet and aching. One of your hands is on the van behind you as you try to keep your balance while the other is already in his hair. Your grip on his thick locks is almost painful. It fuels his need for you. Zorag leans in, licking over your wetness once, twice, three times before he delves into your pussy. His tongue swirls through your folds, around your clit, and inside your entrance. Your juices coat his taste buds, his lips, and his chin. And all of a sudden, he has no idea how he could live without this anymore. Urging him on, you pull on his hair and grind your burning cunt against his face. You almost ride him, and he is more than happy to be used by you. He licks and teases, grazing his tusk over your clit. "Zorag!" You cry out his name. "Fuck!" His cock is hard as he listens to your moans and groans. His name leaves your lips like a prayer. One of his fingers finds your entrance while his lips close around your clit. Your frantic breathing changes into sobs at the sudden feeling. Pleasure burns your veins, and the coil in your stomach is tight and ready to snap. Zorag pumps in and out of you, curling his finger just the right way to find every spongy spot that makes you scream and beg for more. "Please," you moan. His cock twitches with every sweet word that leaves your lips. "Please, don't stop. Zorag!" He recognizes your orgasm even before you do. Your clit throbs on his tongue, and your walls flutter around his finger as you chase your release. He is the only one who keeps you from falling as your body jumps and shakes with pleasure.

"See?" He grunts, standing up. His arms slide around you to keep you on your legs. His mouth is full of your taste. His deep green skin glints with your wetness. "It's so much better when you stop being so bossy."

You want to hit him.

- Masterlist Ironridge Masterlist Patreon

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

Share Our Skin. (part 2)

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

______________________________________

A/N: This is the second part of a wonderful request from the lovely @twistedmelodies. This series is going to have one more part; the first two are building the background for the third and last chapter that is going to be 🔥.

I really hope you like this.

Share Our Skin (part 1)

Join the taglist here

Word count: 8K

Pairing: Jake x female!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, drinking, sexual tension, blood, graphic sexual content, language, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f! and m! receiving), protected sex, spanking, light choking.

Summary: In need to recover from a terrible day at work, you decide to go to a nearby bar. But danger is always lurking. _____________________________________

Work had been a nightmare and by the middle of the week you were already exasperated by it.

You really needed a distraction or else you were going to end up getting yourself fired and you really couldn't afford that.

You just needed to relax a bit.

You thought about inviting Josh over, but you really didn't want to bother him. You knew he had a lot to do since the cinema had received many new film rolls and he had to classify them.

That's why you ended up in an old fashioned bar a few blocks away from your house.

As soon as you entered, you regretted it.

The music was too loud and it was incredibly crowded for a Wednesday evening.

And you felt awkward. Extremely awkward.

You weren't used to going to a bar on your own, so you felt really out of place.

But you desperately needed a distraction.

You settled at the bar and ordered a gin tonic.

While you waited for the bartender to prepare your drink, you took a shy look around.

Across from you, there was a makeshift stage with a microphone stand, a few stacked amps, a drum kit and some other instruments.

But the band was nowhere to be seen.

It wasn't too late though, so you assumed the show was still about to start.

You heard the dull thud of your glass hitting the counter in front of you and you turned.

"He is always late" you heard the bartender scoff as he motioned with his head towards the stage.

As you took a sip of your drink and winced at the sting of the alcohol, you saw some commotion on stage.

A boy about your age sauntered onto the stage, grabbed a battered acoustic guitar, plugged it into the amp and approached the mic.

He had long brown hair and dark eyes. He was wearing a fringed black jacket with nothing underneath and tight black leather pants. His smooth tanned chest, adorned with many necklaces, was on full display as he adjusted the strap of his guitar. He looked like a modern day pirate.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, good evening" he said in a deep warm voice that tickled your ears just right.

"Who's ready for some rock and roll?" He continued and someone cheered loudly in the bar.

His features looked familiar, although you were sure you had never seen him before.

You would have remembered him. Without any doubt.

You were trying to pinpoint what exactly was familiar to you about him and in doing so you were blatantly staring at him.

He noticed and you thought you saw him winking towards you, but you weren't really sure.

You scoffed.

You were sure he was going to bore you to death with his wannabe rockstar demeanor.

You finished your drink and were about to stand to pay and exit, already regretting your poor choice of bar, when he started playing an intricate acoustic melody you had never heard before that glued you to your spot.

You turned with a surprised expression on your face and you saw he was already looking at you with a beautiful smile.

You couldn't stop your gaze from drifting to his fingers.

You were mesmerized by the speed and precision with which he slid them up and down the neck of the guitar to create otherworldly sounds.

You observed as he sat on a high bar stool and started tapping his foot and nodding his head to the rhythm of the music, getting lost in it, his hair swaying around his face as he slowly transitioned to the next song.

You recognised it.

It was Heart of Gold by Neil Young.

When he started singing softly into the mic with his eyes closed, you felt a strange warmth spread into your chest. His voice was deep, smooth and made you shiver, enveloping you in the melody every second more.

You were reconsidering him. He was really talented.

Then he reached into his jacket pocket and fished out a tiny armonica, bringing it to his lips.

He started playing it softly but passionately, with his eyes closed and his head slightly tipped back.

He looked angelic and sinful at the same time.

When the song finished, the crowd cheered and you joined, clapping your hands with the others.

After a few more acoustic songs, you learnt that that was only his warm-up.

When he jumped off the stool, unplugged the acoustic and grabbed an electric guitar, you knew the show was just starting.

As soon as he plugged it in, he executed a quick riff, making it echo in the room and looking playfully at the crowd, as if saying "you are in for a good one tonight."

His stare landed on you and he unmistakably winked in your direction this time.

He looked like trouble. You knew it.

A shiver ran down your spine as his eyes locked with yours and a little voice in your head screamed at you to leave as fast as you could.

But you ignored it and, instead, turned more towards him, observing his show closely.

If he had looked ethereal and angelic with the acoustic, he looked absolutely devilish and dangerous with the electric.

He started playing like a madman, then.

The cherry red vintage Gibson that swung low against his hips looked like a little horned devil, held hostage and helpless in his expert unrelenting grasp.

You envied it.

Incredibly.

You had never wished to become an inanimate object. But there was a first for everything and there you were.

When that thought crossed your mind, you blushed, but you couldn't take your eyes off him.

The air completely left your lungs as you observed him, rocking his hips and rolling his body against the wood of the instrument.

The more intense the song became, the more indecent his moves turned.

Sexual was the right word to describe his way of playing, feeling the music deep within his body.

You took a sneaky look around, to see if the crowd of customers around you was watching the same show as you, but nobody seemed bothered by his lascivious behaviour.

A few girls at the table in front of the very stage cheered frivolously, but he didn't even acknowledge them.

When he wasn't focused on his instrument, he had only eyes for you. And you for him.

And every time his eyes met yours, a shiver ran down your body and a warning rang through your ears.

But his music was too loud for you to pay attention to your subconscious.

You felt your arousal start ruining your panties as your mind started conjuring the most improper thoughts while watching him play and rut his hips against his guitar.

You blushed, embarrassed beyond belief to the kind of thought you were having about a complete stranger and, finally, you managed to detach your eyes from his body.

Your gaze drifted to his face and that was the biggest mistake you had ever made.

If his movements, for someone, may allude to acts only made for a private audience, his expressions were utterly and unmistakably pornografic.

You clenched your thighs, involuntarily, as you noticed the way his full lips glistened with sweat and saliva from the amount of times he licked them.

His chest was glistening too and rising and falling rapidly.

His brows furrowed and his mouth contorted in a silent scream as he reached the high of the song and suddenly arched his back.

You wished you could hear all the little sounds that escaped his beautiful sinful mouth.

You wished you could feel the tips of his fingers on your skin.

You wished he would hold you tight and play you exactly like he did his guitar.

You wished to feel the vigour of his hips against yours.

Fuck, you need to stop, unless you want to ruin this stool, you thought.

You almost jumped off it when the bartender slammed a glass against the counter for the man right next to you and you lost the last few notes of the song.

Then his voice reached your ears again.

He was almost breathless and his voice was a little hoarse.

"The next one is the last song for tonight, thank you so much for having me." He said with a warm smile that made his eyes shine.

Then his eyes landed on you again and his smile turned into a smirk.

A single word started flashing in your brain in bold red letters.

DANGER

But what he said next erased every reasonable thought from your mind, stopping you from making the coherent decision of leaving.

"I am going to dedicate this one to the mysterious girl sitting at the counter, who has only had eyes for me" he mused into the mic, his raspy voice making your entire body cover in goosebumps when you understood he was talking about you.

"Let's see if you recognise it" he added, looking directly towards you and winking.

You saw everybody in the room turn towards you and you blushed, wishing for the ground to open and swallow you, bringing you to the place you knew you belonged right then.

You recognised the song from the first few notes and you shuddered.

You regretted not having listened to your subconscious.

You should have left.

The song was one of your favorite, ever.

Kings of Leon.

Sex on fire.

And God, you were feeling every little flame all around you.

It started low on the ground around your feet. Slowly, imaginary flames started licking up your body, enveloping you completely, the more the song extended.

You felt like you were burning for him at the stake.

The guitar was sending little tingles down every single nerve ending of your body, deranging your soul completely.

But when he started singing, you knew you weren't going to leave that place untarnished.

His voice was gravelly and rough. The more he sang, the tighter the invisible rope he had wrapped around you from the very first second he stepped onto the stage wrapped around your body and mind.

He was making you his without even touching you.

And that was driving you crazy.

He sang the chorus with his gaze locked with yours.

And his eyes said it all.

Welcome to Hell, baby.

The sudden improvised guitar solo had you sinking your nails into your palms and biting the inside of your cheeks to the point that you tasted blood on your tongue.

He was on fire too as he played, shredding like his life depended on it and moving so sinfully, causing thought so devious into your mind that you felt the need to run to the nearest church and repent for all your sins.

You wanted him in the most depraved ways.

You wanted him to do aberrant things to you.

And what disgusted you the most was that you were ready to beg for it.

As the song ended, with a piercing drawn out note that echoed in the room and bounced against every wall, you felt the need to smoke a cigarette even though you had never smoked in your life.

Your instinct to fight or flight finally hit you and you knew you had to leave before you ended up doing something incredibly stupid.

You turned to pay and just when you were about to hand the bartender your card, you heard a voice behind you and froze.

"Hey, Steve, put her drinks on my tab and get her a refill, if she wants it" the voice said and you already knew you were in trouble.

You saw the bartender nod and hand him a whisky neat. He then turned to you, silently asking you if you wanted another drink, and you asked for a bottle of water.

You felt a warm hand on your elbow as the man behind you made you lower the hand with which you were holding your card and you turned towards him.

He was already looking at you, absentmindedly swirling the drink in his glass.

He was even more beautiful up close. His hair was slightly disheveled and a few strands stuck to the sweaty skin of his neck and chest, smooth and slightly flushed.

He looked tired, but his eyes, God, his deep brown irises sparkled with happiness and a glint of mischief as he met and held your gaze with extreme confidence.

You noticed you were the same height, but somehow you felt like he was towering over you, his presence was overwhelming.

"Hi, doll, did you enjoy the show?" He asked you genuinely curious about your opinion on his music.

He had to come a bit closer for you to hear him because the music that had been turned on after his performance was too loud.

You didn't trust your voice so, to buy yourself some time, you opened the water and took a sip.

Due to your clumsiness, a little drop slipped out the corner of your lips and trickled down your throat.

He followed it with his eyes and you noticed how they imperceptibly darkened.

You cleared your throat and answered him.

"It was amazing!" You told him and a proud smile appeared on his beautiful face.

"I'm glad you liked it" he said sweetly, tipping an invisible hat at you.

You liked him, he was nice. But still, his aura was dangerous.

"What's your name, doll?" He asked then, coming closer. His stare flicked to your lips for the briefest second before going back to your eyes.

You told him your name and asked for his.

"I'm Jake. At your service, milady" he said, a makeshift English accent made its appearance as he bowed at you.

You giggled and he mirrored you.

The word DANGER flashed again in your mind as he came closer, his sweet smile morphing into a smug grin as he bent his head slightly to whisper into your ear.

His hot breath tickled your skin and made you shiver despite the stifling atmosphere in the room.

"You know, it's not very polite staring at people like that" he lowered his voice to just a whisper and retreated to look you in the eyes and see the effect his words were having on you.

You blushed instantly and you felt like you lost the ability to speak. Your brain was completely incapable to conjure up words.

He was proud of himself. You could see it in his eyes.

Your hands tightened around the water bottle as he came closer again to deliver another blow.

"And neither were the things you were thinking about in this little beautiful head of yours. Very inappropriate I would say." He whispered, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

Your head was spinning. And you were incredibly embarassed and uncomfortable. You lowered your gaze to the floor and your hands started trembling.

"I'm sorry" you said sheepishly and he chuckled.

"Hey" he whispered again soothingly, lifting your chin with his pointer finger so you were looking him in the eyes, again.

"No need to apologise, baby, " he said and came even closer so he could talk into your ear again.

Despite being sweaty, he smelled wonderfully. The smell of his cologne was deep and rich, engulfing your mind in a haze, like a deep fog.

"I was doing exactly the same from the stage, so we are even" he said and placed a hand on your hip, making a shiver run down the length of your spine.

His eyes bore holes into yours.

The hand he had on your hip was incredibly warm and firm, and your body flushed with heat at the feeling.

He spoke again, this time blatantly staring at your lips with no fear of being caught.

"I've never seen you around or I would remember you, love. You are new round here, aren't you?" He asked gently.

You nodded.

"Yes, I've just moved here, just a month and a half ago" you said admiring the way his skin shone with the low lights in the room.

He really was beautiful.

"And what brought a beautiful girl like you to this dingy place all alone on a boring Wednesday evening, doll?" He asked curiously.

You sighed. Thinking about all the mess you had had to deal with at work that day.

"Work was a nightmare today. I really needed a distraction so when I saw this place while passing by, I really thought I could find something that would suit my needs in here" you said fidgeting with your water bottle.

"And tell me, did you find it?" He asked, the corner of his lips tilting up in a smug smirk.

"I don't know it yet. Maybe." you whispered back, shrugging nonchalantly, feeling his eyes burning holes into yours.

"Why don't we sit and talk for a bit, then, so we can get to know each other better." He asked you, motioning towards a little empty booth in a corner.

You nodded and followed him there.

It was just a little innocent chat, you told yourself as you sat down next to him.

Next thing you knew, you were being unceremoniously pinned against the bathroom wall by his body, his mouth hot on your neck, his hands on the wall on either side of your head and his hips flush against yours.

He was leaving love bites all over your neck, marking you up for everyone to see.

You hoped the concealer you owned would be enough to mask them up the next day.

You let out a fucked-out breathy whine when his teeth sank into your skin and, suddenly, he was looking into your eyes, keeping you still with a hand on your throat. It wasn't squeezing but holding you almost gently.

His eyes were boring holes into yours, smoldering.

He exuded dominance in everything he did.

The music echoing from the bar was still loud, but a bit muffled, meaning that you could hear him better.

His voice was even more beautiful now, enchanting and hypnotizing.

You were already his.

And he knew that.

"What do you want, doll?" He whispered onto your lips. His breath smelled like whisky and you were continuously distracted by his plump lips that looked delicious.

You wanted them on yours.

You needed them.

But you wanted his hands, too.

You wanted him, in every outrageous way in which you could have him.

"Kiss me, touch me, anything, just… please" you managed to whisper under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Listen to you, little dove" he said, tracing his thumb against your tortured bottom lip.

"I didn't even touch you and you are already begging for it. We are gonna get along so well." He mused into your ear as his thumb dipped inside your mouth.

You sucked on it gently and he groaned, pressing his hips even more against yours, making you gasp around his digit as you felt how hard he was.

"Feel that, baby? I've been this fucking hard since the moment I saw you there sitting at the counter, looking all shy and blushy." he groaned into your ear and you whimpered.

He dragged his lips across your cheek and ghosted them over yours, moving them away quickly before you could kiss him. He chuckled at your attempt to reach his lips and tightened his hold on your throat.

"Shh, doll, be patient." He said into your ear again, making you shiver.

Your head felt dizzy as he started nibbling at your earlobe and you mewled his name.

"You sound so pretty, baby" he whispered and moved so that his lips were ghosting over yours again.

This time you didn't move and a beautiful smile spread on his face.

"You are such a good girl. And you know what happens to good girls?" He didn't wait for you to answer

"They get rewarded" he whispered right on your lips right before connecting your mouths.

Hard.

The impact caused you to whine, but it only spurred him on into pressing his body even more against yours.

The force with which he kissed you caused your already bitten lower lip to break, making blood start to slowly seep out of a little cut to the point that you could taste blood along with whisky on his lips.

He held your chin high with the thumb of the hand that he had wrapped around your throat and kept kissing you, stealing your breath away completely.

He parted from you with a worried expression on his face when he noticed the blood on your lower lip.

"Are you ok?" He breathed against your lips, panting and wiping away the blood from your chin with his thumb.

You nodded and crashed your lips back against his, hissing at the sting from the cut.

"But… you are bleeding" he whispered onto your lips, breaking the kiss again and eyeing the cut.

"I don't care, just… Please kiss me again" you whimpered back quickly, seeing a smirk appear again on his face.

Seeing that you were unfazed by the blood, he licked your lower lip and then sucked it into his mouth, making you whine.

At the same time, you felt his other hand caress your outer thigh and grab a handful of your ass.

"Jake" you groaned and his grip tightened.

Suddenly, he grasped your hair in an iron grip and forced your eyes on his again.

"Look at me. What do you need?" He whispered practically on your lips as his hips started grinding against yours again, making your eyes roll back into your skull.

He tugged at your hair again and you gasped.

"Eyes on me, little dove. I don't like to repeat myself" He warned you and you felt your walls clench around nothing.

"Touch me, please" you begged again and his lips connected with yours immediately, in another passionate kiss that tasted of blood and whisky.

Meanwhile his hands explored your body. His fingers, hot and calloused, grazed the inside of your thighs and before you knew it he lifted your skirt to your hips and cupped your still clothed center, making you sink your nails into his shoulders.

"Fucking hell, doll, your panties are soaked. Is this all for me?" He said as he started to gently rub his fingers over you, making you almost lose your balance.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence and he wasted no time in tugging the wet piece of clothing from between your legs to feel you drip down his fingers without barriers.

He grabbed your discarded panties and hid them in the backpocket of his trousers with a smirk and a wink.

The moment his bare fingers came in contact with your core, your knees almost gave out and he had to wrap one of arm around your waist to keep you upright.

Involuntarily, in doing so, he pressed his thigh snugly between your parted legs and you quivered as you slid against the leather of his pants.

You cursed loudly and he stopped caressing you between your legs, gripping your hips strongly with both his hands and guiding the rocking of your hips against him.

The amount of wetness covering you allowed you to move incredibly easily against his thick thigh, making you barrel towards your finish in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

But, of course, just as you were about to topple over the edge, he removed his thigh and stilled your hips with his firm grasp.

You whined and he chuckled.

"Where are your manners, my little dove? Good girls ask for permission before they cum" he whispered against your ear, biting your neck sharply.

You whimpered and blushed, but obliged.

"Please Jake, I need it" you whined and you saw his eyes narrow.

"You need what, doll?" He taunted you. He wanted you to say it out loud.

You groaned and almost rolled your eyes but he grabbed hold of your throat, squeezing.

You quickly recovered from that slip.

"Please, Jake, can I cum? I need it so much please" you managed to say and he quickly returned his thigh between your legs.

His hold on your hips was so tight that you knew there would be bruises on your skin.

The feeling of his thick muscle against your core was heavenly.

You bit your bottom lip as you felt yourself start to approach your orgasm, but he quickly untucked it from underneath your teeth.

"Don't. I want to hear every little sound escaping these beautiful lips of yours. Go ahead, cum for me" He growled into your ear and you came hard against his thigh.

By the time you came down from your high, your legs were shaking and your head spinning.

He moved his thigh from between your legs and groaned loudly, watching closely as your wetness stained his pants, glittering in the sharp lighting of the room.

He unexpectedly kissed you again, making you moan and then spoke.

"Look at this mess, sweet girl… so beautiful" he whispered.

Without thinking, you knelt down in front of him, and you saw him visibly twitch in his tight pants.

He expected you to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants but you focused elsewhere.

You wanted to make him go wild.

And you knew exactly what to do.

You stuck your tongue out and started licking your wetness off his leg, keeping your eyes glued to his.

He cursed loudly and started palming his throbbing erection languidly as he watched you, praising you profusely.

"Fucking hell, doll, you are something else. So perfect" he said proudly, looking at you and caressing himself a little rougher than before.

When you finished, you started unbuckling his belt and begged him to let you touch him.

"Jake, please, let me touch you. Let me make you feel good." You whispered and he growled deep in his chest.

"Go on baby, suck me off, spoil me with that gorgeous mouth of yours." He said, his eyes already drifting closed in anticipation.

You finished with his belt and made quick work of unzipping his trousers. You gasped, surprised, as his erection sprung free from his leather jail since he had forgone underwear.

The thought of him grinding against his guitar with just the leather separating his member from the wood of the instrument caused your head to spin.

You almost moaned at the sight of him. He was big, his tip was the same colour of his plump lips and already wet with precum.

Your mouth watered instantly and you wrapped a loose hand around his base.

His knees imperceptibly buckled and he pressed one hand against the wall for balance.

The other cradled your cheek in a soothing way.

As you kept stroking him, you skimmed your lips on his faint happy trail and licked from his navel to where his neatly trimmed public hair was.

Then you started sucking a little hickey on his soft tummy, just below his happy trail.

He hissed when you bit his flesh and whimpered when you started sucking on it, slowly bringing his blood to the surface of his skin.

He was already throbbing in your hand, but you knew that your rhythm wasn't enough to get him off.

You licked a slow broad stripe on the underside of his member and it twitched as he let out a little breathy whine.

You wrapped your lips around his tip and started sucking gently as you stroked a hand slowly around the rest of his shaft. His skin was scorching hot but very soft under your touch.

His breathing quickened and he started panting, occasionally rasping out a curse when you spoiled the spot right on the underside of his head with the tip of your tongue.

After a bit you slowly tried to take more of him inside your mouth, sinking him more down your throat.

He involuntarily thrusted forward and you gagged around him, swallowing around his erection and making him lean his head against the wall with an unbridled moan at the feeling of your throat clenching around him.

You started bobbing your head and his grip on your hair tightened.

"Fuck, baby, just like this" he groaned leaning his head backwards and thrusting his hips moderately, just like he did while playing his beautiful guitar.

When your hand caressed his legs, from his knees to his hips and reached his groin, he shivered. Your fingertips grazed the hot skin of his balls and, as you slowly caressed them, he moaned loudly, losing his rhythm completely and thrusting his hips harshly into your mouth, making you gag.

Suddenly, with the grip he had on your hair, he yanked you up on your feet and slammed you against the wall, pinning you there and connecting your lips in a rough kiss that was all teeth and tongue.

And then he spinned the two of you so that you were pressed against the counter where the sinks were.

He kissed you again, licking diligently at your bottom lip and then spoke, breathless and disheveled.

"Let me show you how bad I've wanted you since the second I laid my eyes on you. I need to feel you" he confessed against your lips and you nodded without a second thought.

You needed him too, undeniably.

"Please, yes" you gasped and he quickly turned you towards the sink so that you were watching yourself in the mirror in front of you.

You could also see his eyes, dark and mysterious, staring at you from the reflection.

"Are you sure?" He asked firmly, keeping a burning eye contact through the mirror.

"Yes" You answered him, just as firmly, looking at his hand on your tummy and salivating over the sight of his veins there.

Without warning, he grabbed your hair and yanked your head backwards, making you lean it against his shoulder so that your eyes could meet in the mirror.

"I am not going to be gentle, doll. I am beyond the point of holding back" he whispered, hot against your ear as he grinded his erection against your ass and pressed you further against the counter

"I don't remember asking you to be" you taunted him, pressing your hips back into his.

In a second, he had a hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing.

"You need it rough, don't you?" He asked, already knowing the answer, taking off your shirt and unhooking your bra.

He started playing languidly with your breasts, kneading the flesh and caressing your nipples, making you squirm against him.

You just wanted to stop thinking about work. And you knew he could help you erase every coherent thought from your mind.

You knew what you had to say to have him doing what the both of you so desperately needed.

"Please, Jake, yes." You whined and he groaned into your ear.

"Bend over, doll. Let me see how wet you still are" he growled and pressed you down against the counter, grabbing the skirt that was already half bunched up around your hips and tugging it all the way up, so that it sat around your waist.

He kicked your legs open with his foot and you saw in the mirror that his eyes focused between your legs before rolling back into his head as he let out a loud groan.

"Fucking soaked" he muttered to himself and then you felt his fingers against you. You jolted at the sudden contact but moaned when finally you could feel one of his fingers slide you and then a second.

You had focused on his fingers for the most of his performance, and you knew they were skilled, but feeling them pressed snuggly inside of you, deliciously thick and long, was something else.

Your knees buckled, thank God there were the counter and his hips keeping you up.

He started finger fucking you at a punishing rhythm, curling them repeatedly and making the sounds of your wetness echo in the room.

You couldn't keep your eyes open,but at the same time, you wanted to watch him every chance you got.

You forced your eyes open and saw him watching his fingers work carefully on your body, with a focused expression on his face, the same he wore when he played a particularly tricky riff.

When he eased a third finger in, you had to warn him.

"Jake, I am close, don't stop, please" you pleaded him and he spanked you, harshly.

"No way I am stopping. You are gonna cum on my fingers, now, and then on my cock" he told you, incredibly sure of himself. As he curled his fingers, the heel of his hand brushed against your clit and you felt yourself start to approach your finish.

He spanked you again and you came all over his fingers, moaning his name and clawing at the counter.

As you came down he slowly pulled his fingers out of you and wrapped his lips around them, sucking you off them dirtily, keeping eye contact in the mirror and smirking.

You leant your head against the counter but jolted upwards when you felt his thumb against your overstimulated clit.

"Are you ready for me, doll?" He whispered into your ear after bending on top of you.

You nodded fervently, begging him to just fill you up. You watched in the mirror as he fished a condom from his back pocket and slowly slid it on himself, groaning at the contact with his own hand.

Then you whined as he guided his tip to slide slowly along your slit a few times.

You were about to beg him again when he pushed into you, harshly, making you scream his name.

"Jake!" You moaned and clenched around him making him groan

He kept still inside of you, letting you adjust to him and praising you to make you relax further.

"You are perfect, sweet dove, all pink, warm and wet for my cock" he cooed, tracing his fingers up your spine and making you clench around his member.

"Please Jake" you whimpered and he chuckled, gripped your hips and before moving, he spoke right into your ear, snaking a hand around your throat.

"Keep your eyes peeled on me, or you are getting nothing, sweet girl, understood?" He threatened, pulling your hair to lift your head so you could meet his eyes in the mirror.

You nodded but his grip on your throat tightened.

You knew what he wanted. You quickly corrected yourself.

"Understood. Please, Jake" you answered, voice trembling with anticipation and eyes connected with his.

You saw him reach into his front pocket and grab something little, flat and black.

A guitar pick.

"Let me see how much of a good girl you are. Keep this into this pretty little mouth of yours until we both cum and you will get rewarded" he rasped out, pushing the same pick he held between his lips during the show into your mouth.

He winked into the mirror as one of his hands grasped your hip and the other still held your hair.

The first thrust stole your breath away and you knew you were going to crumble so quickly.

With every deep thrust, a breathy moan left your lips and you fought to keep your eyes open.

He fucked you meticulously, his rhythm, deep, hard and fast, never faltered and every time he sensed you were going to close your eyes, he tugged at your hair to remind you what you had to do.

His hips kept your pinned to the counter as he fucked into you harder and harder.

The more you focused on him, the closer you got to your climax.

He was stunning. His hair was clinging to his sweaty forehead and neck, the necklaces he wore kept hitting his chest with his every move and a little rivulet of sweat shone from the hollow of his throat down to his navel.

Panting breaths left his parted lips in quick puffs.

Suddenly, he let go of your throat and spanked you, chuckling at the way you screamed his name, but groaning at the feeling of you clenching around him.

He winked at you in the mirror and angled his hips differently so that could hit the spot that made your eyes roll back.

He knew you were close, so he sucked his thumb into his mouth and then started stroking your clit with it.

"Fuck, Jake, I'm coming" you whimpered and he quickened his rhythm to bring you there.

You came harshly and quickly, clamping around him with an iron grip.

A loud curse left your lips and he chuckled.

He felt proud because of how quickly he had made you crumble. You saw it in the pleased smug smile that spread on his astonishing face as you pulsed and dripped around him.

His rhythm slowed down to help you come down, but quickened again when he felt you relax again around him.

You were watching him carefully, enraptured by his otherworldly beauty.

The noises of slapping skin echoed into the small room, together with your whimpers and his groans.

He let go of your hair and placed a hand wide on your lower back, pressing you down more on the counter and his rhythm started to falter.

His thumb reached your clit one more time and you winced, biting on the thin plastic you had in your mouth.

You knew he wasn't going to stop until you had come one more time before him.

But you also knew he was close by the little breathy moans that started leaving his lips.

He tugged harshly on your hair, making you brutally arch your back, as he kept pounding into you.

He smiled proudly, leaning his head backwards and keeping his thrusting deep and hard as you came one more time, breathlessly moaning his name.

But his smile soon turned into a grimace as he neared his peak, his brows furrowed and bottom lip tucked underneath his upper teeth, mirroring the exact concentrated expression he wore when his songs approached the tipping point.

He came with a choked curse and as he rode out his orgasm, his lips parted, letting a melodic drawn-out moan bounce on the walls.

Completely spent, he bent down on your body, pressing his forehead against the back of your neck where you could feel his hot breath on your skin.

He kept moving for a bit and then stilled, panting heavily and making you shiver.

He stayed like that for a bit and you allowed your body to fully relax, reveling in the feeling of his weight on top of you.

You could feel his heart pounding wildly into his chest from where he was pressed flush against you and you knew that yours was following the same exact rhythm.

He pulled out slowly and you grimaced, hissing lowly.

His hands gripped your hips and brought you up, his mouth hot on your neck as he roamed the front of your body once again, groping your breasts and twisting your nipples like he was ready to start it all over again.

"Open your mouth, pretty girl" he whispered into your ear, watching you closely in the mirror, all sweaty and disheveled.

You did as he asked you. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, showing him his guitar pick safe on the flat of your tongue, like a good girl.

He spun you around and crashed his lips against yours, stealing the pick from your mouth. He took it out and placed it back into his pocket with a wink.

Then he threw away the condom and sat you on the counter.

Your confused expression made him chuckle as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

Holy shit, he is insatiable, you thought.

"I can't let you go away without a last taste of your pretty cunt. Can I?" He eagerly asked you, his beautiful eyes looking up at you from below gave you a faux sense of control over him.

You gripped his hair and as soon as you nodded, he delved in.

His tongue was unforgiving. He kept his hands on the back of your thighs as he ate you out expertedly and without reprise.

He sucked on your clit and held your legs forced open when they threatened to close around his head.

Then his tongue dipped lower and you shivered, moaning out his name, like it was your favourite word.

His nose kept bumping into your clit as his tongue fucked you quickly.

You sank both your hands deeper into his hair and pulled harshly, as he made you come quickly.

He kept going until he had swallowed even the last drop of you. Then he stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and licked a broad stripe there, like you were his favourite dessert and he couldn't fathom wasting a single crumb.

He helped you off the counter and kept you upright when your legs gave out under you, with a beautiful smile that reached his brown irises. Then he started to fix himself.

You almost lost your balance again when you tried to straighten your skirt but he was quick to catch you.

You groaned, your entire body felt stiff.

"Are you ok, love?" He asked as he buttoned his pants.

You nodded and he smiled, fixing your hair and your shirt with gentle fingers.

You did the same to him, carefully untangling the necklaces that adorned his chest that were extremely knotted.

"I didn't go too hard on you, did I?" He asked sweetly, grazing one of the purple marks he had left on your neck with gentle fingers.

You shook your head and you both started chuckling.

Once you were ready, he offered you his hand and started to walk towards the exit.

You stopped him, though.

He still had to give you back your panties.

"Please, can I have my p-" you started to say but you were quickly interrupted by a loud bang on the door.

You knew he understood what you wanted but he deliberately decided to ignore you.

He unlocked the door and tugged you with him through the many people that stood in line that whistled at the sight of the two of you fleeting that bathroom.

You found yourself backstage with him, surrounded by guitars, amps, cables and many other cases.

He handed you a water bottle and disappeared for a second.

He came back with keys in hand and asked you if he could give you a lift home.

You told him it was a quick walk to your flat but he insisted on bringing you home himself.

You relented and he smiled, taking your hand in his and guiding you outside from the back entrance of the building.

You two walked hand in hand until you reached the parking lot.

He guided you towards a car that you recognised being a vintage deep burgundy Ford Mustang.

It was beautiful and sexy, it suited him incredibly well.

He opened the passenger door for you, like a gentleman and it was impossible for you to not think about the fact that he was the same man that had fucked you like a dirty whore into that bathroom not even twenty minutes ago.

You slid into the car and he sat behind the steering wheel, quickly bringing the engine to life with a loud rumble.

He exited the parking lot and you told him to turn left.

Soon, you were in front of your apartment. You turned towards him and thanked him.

Your eyes drifted again to his lips and you couldn't stop yourself. You kissed him and he gripped your waist.

He tugged your body until you were straddling him and panting into his mouth.

Then he parted from you and put something in his mouth.

He was extremely sexy. Dark, brooding, mysterious.

Dangerous.

And his face had something, a familiarity that was plaguing your mind the more you observed him.

But you couldn't pinpoint what it was, and it was driving you crazy.

The orange lights lining the street were casting a deep golden glow on his face and his chiseled features were highlighted by the deep shadows provided by the moonless night.

He was astonishingly beautiful.

He stopped your rambling when he kissed you again, and you felt something hard and pointy touch your tongue.

You broke the kiss and found his guitar pick once again between your lips.

"Keep it, you've earned it, baby" he whispered onto your lips and you both chuckled.

"I want you to watch it closely and think about me, ok?" He whispered and you nodded, sitting back on your seat and opening the door.

His eyes never left yours.

Before you could leave, he grasped your wrist and spoke.

"I had a great time with you, love. Remember, you know where to find me if you ever need me. I always play there on Wednesday nights" he winked and let you go.

"Goodnight" you said in unison.

His stare locked with yours for a few seconds more. Then, when you were safe inside the hall of your apartment complex, he drove away, making the engine of his car rumble loudly into the clear silent night, gifting you one last heartstopping smile.

When you entered your apartment, you leant against the door and let out a little chuckle as images of that incredible night flashed behind your eyelids.

You grabbed the guitar pick from your purse and gasped.

In the dark, you hadn't noticed a detail that now with the lights of your apartment could be discovered.

On one of the faces of the thin plastic there was a phone number. It had probably been written in pen, the carved numbers small but visible.

You smiled, leaving the pick on the table and sent him a quick goodnight text.

You kept thinking about him as you went into the bathroom, undressed and showered.

The tiredness of the day was making itself known and you just wanted to climb into bed and sleep for a week.

As you dried yourself, you noticed that your body was littered with bruises and marks, that the next day would become even more prominent.

You grazed your fingers on the marks on your hips, from where he had kept you flush against the counter with his body as he pounded into you at an unforgiving pace and you almost moaned again.

At that moment, your phone buzzed on the counter and you wondered who it was.

When you read the name, you felt your heart sink in your chest.

Josh:

Hi darling, I hope you had a great day. I had, I thought about you a lot. I'm still doing that now, btw :)

Goodnight baby. xx

Josh.

You felt like the worst person on Earth.

You felt utterly and unmistakably bad for your behaviour. You didn't deserve him.

You hated yourself for what you had done.

As you held your phone in your hand, you got another text.

Jake:

Goodnight love.

Can't wait to see you again.

And until that moment comes, I'll think about you ruining these pretty panties just for me. I can still smell you on them.

Sweet dreams, doll.

Jake

He sent you a picture.

Your panties bunched up between his hand and his crotch.

The flash illuminated the black leather of his pants and the unmistakable erection he was sporting underneath.

Your heartbeat turned erratic.

You were in deep, deep trouble.

___________________________

Taglist: @gvfpal @sammyslappers @spark-my-nature @highladyofasgard @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jessicafg03 @doodle417 @hellowgoodbye @ejoygvf @jaketlover @jakekiszkasbabymama @objectsinspvce @indigostreakmorgan @witchofendora @myleftsock @gretavanshmeat @gretasfallingsky @giraffehippy @jennasometimesreads @katiegvf

[foxfables]

The Space Between Hearts

A/N: This is Just the Plot Bunnies I Couldn’t Shake. Please Don’t Expect Any Kind of Medical Accuracy. This is inspired by House MD & a Film Called Fathers & Daughter (Loosely).

The Space Between Us.

Warnings: Migraines, Medical Talk.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Aubrey Hurst.

Spencer Reid had one persistent, insidious problem: migraines. But his real frustration ran deeper than the searing pain. It was the half-dozen doctors who had repeatedly dismissed his symptoms, each one claiming he was wrong, that grated on him the most.

That’s how he found himself sitting stiffly across from Dr. Edwards at St. Charles Medical and Research Hospital. As soon as Spencer stepped into the stark, sterile office, he had already pegged the man as dismissive. He didn’t need his finely honed profiling skills to see it—the doctor’s disinterest was plain in the way he barely glanced up from his files, his fingers absentmindedly drumming on the desk.

“Are you having one of your headaches right now?” Dr. Edwards asked flatly, as if the answer didn’t particularly matter.

“Not at the moment,” Spencer replied, his irritation barely concealed.

“And when was the last one?”

“Two days ago.”

The doctor scribbled a note with an almost robotic detachment before glancing up, his eyebrows raised in a half-hearted show of interest. “You don’t think your headaches are psychosomatic?”

Spencer’s jaw clenched. “No,” he said firmly.

Dr. Edwards barely reacted, his expression remaining passive as he began to close the file in front of him. “Honestly, I think your migraines are stress-related,” he said with an air of finality. “But I’ll arrange for a consult with the diagnostics team. Stay here.”

Spencer bit back the urge to argue, frustration simmering beneath the surface. It wasn’t just that his headache—the one that had been steadily building since he stepped off the jet—was growing more pronounced. The bright, clinical lights overhead felt like needles pressing into his skull, amplifying the pain.

Twenty agonizing minutes passed, and the tension in the room seemed to grow with each passing second. Finally, the door creaked open. But instead of Dr. Edwards returning, two younger doctors entered the room.

The first was a man in his late twenties, with dark hair and a welcoming, unassuming presence. He was of average height, but the ease with which he carried himself gave him an air of quiet confidence. His eyes were observant, yet kind, and he wore a small smile as he stepped forward.

“I’m Dr. Daniel Rhodes,” he said, his voice calm but engaging. “I’m a diagnostic fellow here.” He gestured toward the woman standing beside him.

She was much shorter, standing at barely 5’3”, with striking features that Spencer noted immediately. Dr. Rebecca Langford, a 27-year-old neurology resident, had rich, dark skin and wore her curly hair tied back in a neat high ponytail. Despite her youthful appearance, there was a sharpness in her eyes that suggested she took her work very seriously. Still, her smile was gentle and welcoming as she nodded in acknowledgment.

“We’re with the Diagnostics Team,” Dr. Rhodes continued, his tone professional yet reassuring. “We’ve reviewed your case, and we’d like to take a closer look at what’s going on. If you’re ready, we can start now.”

Spencer slowly rose from his seat, his head pounding in rhythm with his quickening heartbeat. There was a flicker of hope in the air, mingled with his frustration. Perhaps, finally, someone would take his pain seriously and stop brushing him off.

Spencer was led to an office that was much bigger and brighter than Dr. Edwards’—which felt like it had been stuck in the 70s with its dark wood paneling and outdated decor. This new office, however, was modern and sprawling, technically three rooms separated by glass walls. In the central room, a large table was placed in the middle, surrounded by whiteboards and bookshelves. A young woman sat at the table, surrounded by a clutter of files and medical textbooks. She glanced up briefly when they entered, but quickly returned to her work. Spencer’s eyes wandered toward the back room, which was dim and empty except for the outline of a desk, a computer, and an upright piano that was tucked beneath the window.

Dr. Rhodes led him into the final room, which had a more comfortable, welcoming feel. The walls were a warm cream colour, and the space felt modern and fresh. A patient bed stood at the centre of the room, with a chair and monitoring equipment neatly arranged around it.

“Go ahead and take off your shoes and sit on the bed,” Dr. Rhodes suggested, gently pulling Spencer out of his daze.

“Sure,” Spencer replied, slipping out of his shoes and climbing onto the bed.

“I’m going to take some blood while we talk through your medical history,” Dr. Langford added, her voice calm but focused as she prepped the necessary equipment.

For the second time that day, Spencer recounted his medical history. His mother’s condition, the paranoid schizophrenia that had plagued her for as long as he could remember. His own brushes with danger—the gunshot wound, the anthrax exposure, and his brief but difficult stint with dilaudid, which made him extremely reluctant to rely on strong painkillers now.

His migraines had started about six months ago, and they had only been getting worse. Initially, he could manage them with over-the-counter pain relievers, but by Christmas, they had stopped working altogether. He had tried to push through the pain, but now it was becoming unbearable.

As Spencer spoke, he noticed that Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Langford were asking far more detailed questions than any of his previous doctors. They didn’t just focus on the surface-level details. Instead, they delved deeper—into his caffeine intake, how much sugar he consumed daily and weekly, his sleeping patterns, and where he lived. They even asked about the type of building he resided in, where he had been over the past year, and, more specifically, where he had been when he first noticed the migraines beginning.

They wanted to know what his headaches had been like before the migraines had evolved, and they didn’t shy away from the mental health side of things either. Spencer could feel himself growing defensive, even though he knew it was illogical. He had been building this defence mechanism ever since his father left him in the care of his mother—a woman whose paranoid schizophrenia had defined much of his childhood. And now, here he was, at the perfect age to potentially develop symptoms himself. Spencer was acutely aware of the statistics, the genetic predisposition, and the trauma he had endured throughout his life. He knew the risks better than most, and the thought of it all worried him far more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

Dr. Langford finished drawing Spencer’s blood and called out to the young woman in the other room. That’s when Spencer learned that she was a medical student. As the doors slid open, he noticed for the first time that the office at the far end of the room now had its light on.

“Thanks,” Dr. Langford said as the medical student quickly took the vials of blood from her and exited the room, following Dr. Rhodes.

Then, Dr. Langford turned back to Spencer and resumed her questioning.

“Any hallucinations?” she asked, her tone even and professional.

“No,” Spencer replied, shaking his head.

“Are you just saying no because of your history?” she probed.

“No,” he said again, a little more firmly.

“No visual or audible hallucinations?” she pressed.

“No,” he answered, his patience holding.

“Any colours or auras?”

“No,” he said, and this time, she seemed satisfied.

“Okay,” she nodded. She paused for a moment before asking, “You don’t think your headaches are psychosomatic?”

Spencer exhaled, barely managing to keep his frustration at bay. “No,” he answered, the word clipped.

“Okay,” she said, offering a small, understanding smile.

Just then, the door creaked open again, and a new presence entered the room.

“Hi,” the newcomer said, her voice warm and inviting.

Spencer turned his gaze toward her. “Hello,” he replied.

“I’m Dr. Hurst, the head of diagnostics here,” she introduced herself with a soft smile. Dr. Hurst was a 29-year-old woman with a naturally friendly expression, framed by shoulder-length brown hair that was parted neatly down the middle. She wore a black coat layered over a simple black dress. Her demeanour was professional, yet approachable, and though she smiled warmly at Spencer, he couldn’t help but notice a faint sadness lingering in her eyes, as if something weighed on her despite the smile she presented.

Even as Spencer observed her, she radiated an aura of confidence and care, putting him slightly more at ease. Still, the sadness in her gaze intrigued him, almost as much as her curiosity about his condition. He wondered silently what she had seen to put that sadness there, but quickly reminded himself that this wasn’t about her—this was about his migraines, his pain, and the answers he so desperately sought.

[triplesilverstar]

In which Vash gets his dessert

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Pre-Canon, Established Relationship, fluff and humor, domestic fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed, Flirting, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, My First Smut, Cunnilingus, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Penis In Vagina Sex, Riding, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Bad Humor, Bad Puns, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Not Beta Read, Head rubs

Word count: Roughly 2.5K

A/N: Chapter two of Sometimes you need to recharge, so… this was my first smut written. Ever. With that knowledge I scuttle away back to my hidey hole.

You bite harder into your lower lip, trying your best to keep the moan from reverberating around the room. Fists gripping the sheets with enough force you’re surprised they haven’t ripped. The gleam of moonlight illuminating both you and your lover. 

It isn’t often Vash gets like this, wanting control and teasing you all day and night until you’re both behind closed doors, knowing you can’t, won’t do anything in public. Usually you lead when it comes to the physical side of your relationship and it’s only a round or two before it’s time to clean up and cuddle. Tonight however as soon as the door of the room was closed he was on you, hands pressed to your face and tilting your chin for a rough kiss, biting into your lower lip and tongue pressing wide sweeps to sooth the bruised swollen tissue. 

When he pulls away your breath strutters out of your chest, legs like jelly barely able to keep yourself upright, not that he’d allow you to fall. Jackets are shed, thrown over the chair pulled out from the table, as you’re undoing the laces of your boots your hands are batted out of the way, not moving quickly enough for him. The first boot is thrown over his shoulder and he’s crouched down in front of you and you can’t follow its flight, one of his hands pressing into the flesh of your thigh grip tight throwing the leg up over his shoulder. 

His head is level with your crotch, happy to press his face into the meat of your thigh there, you can feel yourself growing damp from his actions and the heat radiating off of him. The other boot is gone, and his hands are sliding up your legs heat trailing their path, hastening to get to your belt, undoing the clasp and a whimper rips from your throat. The brief press of warm fingers to your skin has you in a daze. He’s watching your face, shifting his shoulder so your leg slides off while he’s hauling your pants to the floor. He doesn’t let you step out of them, instead fingers digging into your ass and standing. A startled yelp leaving you as your hands scramble for purchase against him, feet hooking around his waist heart beating like a drum. 

Pressed against him like his, hot breath fanning against your neck you shiver, underwear damp and you feel him straining against his pants, jerking ever so slightly to try and feel more of him. “Does my baby want me to make her feel good?” His voice is husky and you feel yourself clenching. 

“Yes, wanna feel so good.” Trying to roll your hips forward to gain some friction and relief against the building tension inside you. 

“I’ll give you what you want” he’s pressing open mouth kisses along your neck now and you wished you’d hauled your shirt off already “so long as you're a good girl tonight.”

“I’ll be good” moaning as he’s starting to trail up your neck and nosing against your ear, the grip on your ass suddenly tightens to stop you from continuing the rolling motion of your hips. 

“Then be good. Because tonight, you’re going to take what I give you, nothing else.” A nip is placed against your earlobe, a promise and a warning all wrapped up in one drawing a hiss from you “no fighting me for control, you just lay there and let me do all the work.” 

You nod swallowing, damn you want this and him so badly, your shy reserve stampede so rarely takes control and it’s leaving you breathless and he’s barely touched you. “Use your words baby.” 

“I won't fight, I won’t take control. But what if I want to touch you?” A rumble leaves his chest and you feel yourself readying to take those words back if it means getting things moving. 

“As long as you follow the other rules, you can touch me” at this point your certain your underwear is soaked, sure he can smell your desperation for him. 

“Ok. Tonight you’re the boss, Sunshine.” A low growl leaves him and he’s chasing after your mouth, wasting no time nipping and licking your bottom lip, opening your mouth to him right away as his tongue delves in pressing against your own. A groan leaving you both, you can feel him moving while you kiss long and desperate. 

Your ass hits the bed as he breaks from the kiss, disentangling your limbs from around him so he can stand above you, he’s panting eyes blown wide and still in his turtleneck and painfully tight looking pants. Your hand twitches reaching out for him and you stop, does this count towards what he gives you a low whine leaving you, distressed at not knowing what to do. The sound seems to break him from his thoughts, reaching to pull his shirt off and kneeling on the bed towards you. He’s grabbing the edge of your shirt and pulling it over your head while shuffling you so you're centered in the bed and a pillow under your head. 

Leaning over you he starts mouthing along your neck working his way down your body, paying attention to the areas he knows that make you gasp. “Make sure to be a good girl now” he’s reached your stomach, hands on your hips and hooking the band of your underwear to drag them down and away. 

Finally between your legs he’s taking a deep breath which is making you squirm embarrassment coloring your face. Both of his hands are gripping you, pressing into your thighs and the sensation from the different temperature is not helping. The flesh one burning against you and heating your own, the metal of the other cooling and providing relief. At least he doesn’t make you wait long, tongue making long languid licks against you causing your toes to curl gasp leaving you. 

He wastes little time, alternating his movements from long and languid to short and quick, tip tracing patterns against the skin before pressing against you flat tongued. The coil in your stomach is starting to tighten and you can feel the wetness pouring from you hands reaching out to grasp the sheets under you. A keening noise signals your close to that first plateau, a part of you fully expecting Vash to pull back to drag it out, but that has never been in his nature. Two cool fingers and pushed inside of you scissoring the inner muscles and a harsh suck to your clit has you cuming hard, back arching.

Vash is lapping away at you as you come down from your high, breathing deep trying to settle your racing heart beat. Pulling back and dragging his fingers from you leaning back so he’s sitting on his heels, you watch as he makes a show of licking his fingers clean eyes hooded and watching your reactions. 

You shudder and watch a grin cross his face as he crawls slowly towards you hands beside your head, leaning down over you, you open your mouth anticipating what he wants “Good girl” he whispers breath mingling. Closing the distance and you taste yourself on his tongue, eyes rolling back at his fervor. Pulling back from you he’s smirking, hands trailing down his chest for his belt, knowing he has your full attention. 

“Can’t wait to make you feel good baby, you’ll feel so good wrapped around me so tight.” The click of his buckle coming undone seems unnaturally loud and your hyper fixated on his hands, slow movements follow as he takes his time with the rest of the fasteners holding his pants in place. You swallow hard when he pushes the fabric down his hips just enough for his cock to spring free, licking your lips waiting for him.

Pre cum is dripping from him already as he positions himself against you, spreading the wetness between your folds and pressing in. A groan echoing around the room “So tight baby, and wet. All just for me.” Fully seated he takes a moment to allow his weight to settle, chest pressed against yours and you can feel the breakneck beating of his heart. Slow strokes as he pulls all the way out before slowly sliding back in and you’re reaching up to press your hands along his back. A few more thrusts and he pauses again, just the head inside you when he starts picking up speed jackhammering into you. At this pace it won’t be long until you’re coming undone beneath him again, nails gripping his shoulder blades. 

He’s kissing you again, sloppy with his focus elsewhere on your body when your second orgasm hits you like a train wreck, calling out his names while he keeps going prolonging your pleasure. When you go boneless he slows just long enough to let you catch your breath, “I’m going to make you cum so many times, all you can think of tonight is my name.”

Now hours later, he’s still pistoning inside of you like his life depends on it. You’ve long lost count of the orgasms you’ve both had, but you know you’re going to be too sore to even consider leaving the bed when daybreak comes. If he’s finished by daybreak.

His hands are gripping your hips with enough force to leave bruises, gaze intense on where the two of you are joined. You watch as his chest heaves covered in sweat. A bead leaves a trail along the side of his face before dripping off to land on your own heated skin. You feel your walls tighten, the sensation in tandem with his rapid thrusts has you hovering on the edge. Panting you release the sheets from your grip to reach out for him. 

Blue eyes meet your own, his attention shifting from your grip on his forearms. “Close?” Words are too hard at this point so you nod. “Me too.” His gaze goes back and you feel him shift, hips angling to hit a new spot. You let out a high pitched moan and tighten around him further. 

His breath is unsteady now, closer to his own peak. Almost as if he knows he’s going to hit that high before you, his hand moves to your front and forces you over the edge. As you go boneless, you hear him hiss your name and warmth floods your insides. 

He stays like that, while you both catch your breaths. Once he’s recovered he adjusts your hips so he can lean forward, pressing a kiss to the hollow of your throat. His eyes are shining, and there’s a depth to them that makes you think whatever had gripped him at your return to the room has broken its hold. Some instinct inside him that drives him to such mad couplings and that his endurance from whatever it is might break you, some plant thing neither of you have talked about. Your hands reach to card through his sweat soaked locks, assuming the rules of the night are done and this won’t be thought of as trying to take control. His lips press gentle kisses along your collarbone, before his tongue licks up your throat.

“That, is so gross” still breathless you swat him, his chest shakes attempting to hold in his chuckles. His pupils are blown wide still on his post orgasm high. 

“Hmm, salty” you try to glare at him before a chortle of laughter leaves your lips. “How are you feeling, Mayfly?” his tone has softened, an air of concern. He always worries, worries he’s gone too far, too hard when he gets like this. 

“Tired” you tilt his head to make sure he sees your soft smile “Not sure I have another round like that one in me.” While your body is still thrumming, you feel the exhaustion down to your bones. He’s still inside you, firm, so you know he hasn’t reached his limit yet. 

He’s humming, hands slidings up and down your sides, you love the feel of it, body craving his touch away from your tender parts, the difference in texture and sensation between locations. The prosthetic always feels cool to the touch, smooth as it glides. The flesh one heated and rough from the callouses in the palm, catch on your rough spots. While your hands are still playing with his hair, his chin is resting on your chest watching your face. 

“I was thinking long and slow for the last one.” 

“My last one or yours?” Teasing, and a blush rises across his face at your words. 

“Well, I was thinking both” he presses his lips to your collarbone again “Try a bit of edging.” His breath fans across your heated skin while you close your eyes. 

“You’re terrible at edging, Sunshine.” Every time he’s tried it and as verbal as try to be with him, he still misses his ques and throws you both over. 

“That’s why I need the practice.” Can’t argue with that logic. 

“Can you reach my canteen? Or yours? I’m gonna need more water if that’s your plan for this finale.” You watch as he pushes himself up using his elbows, the way the muscles of his stomach tense causing a heat to pool inside you. A pout graces his features, and you follow the line of his gaze. 

Of course both of them are sitting on the table, beside your haphazard piles of clothes. Grunting he finally pulls himself out of you, a moan caught in your throat at the emptiness, the gush of mixed fluids leaking out of you. You watch as he walks over and grabs both, the light coming in from the curtains painting him pale and making him look ethereal. Moments like this you wish you could verbalize just how much he means to you, and not just because of his body. 

Every scar seems highlighted, light glinting off the metal embedded in his skin, a stark contrast to the figure he cuts when clothed, how battered his body is. Yet for every part of him that he’s come to view as defective you love, love because knowing him and the reasons for those scars. That he can keep believing in people, in them changing for the better after everything he’s been through. 

Him throwing you your canteen breaks you out of your pondering, a flush of crimson across his cheeks from your staring. “Oh Sunshine. After the things you’ve done to me tonight, and you’re shy now. Who’d have thought a little over a year ago you were still a blushing virgin after that performance.” You take a drink and smirk at him over the top while he sips from his own on his way back to the bed.

“That’s not fair and you know it. Plus, you look different when we're not in the middle of..” he lets the sentence trail off full face flush now, you giggle at his shyness. Both of you cap your canteens, and he places them both within his reach on the floor before rejoining you. Leaning on your forearms you press upwards to meet him for a kiss before he positions himself to glide back inside your tight heat, a moan escaping both your throats. 

Dawn does come before he finishes, but you don’t complain when you both fall asleep a tangle of limbs and sheets. 

Back to Masterlist for the series

[mxngldmxdnsss]

The Hunt - series

Chap 2. Blue Magic - Recom Miles Quaritch

spicy parts will take a while because I like build up, but be patient, build up in the story builds tension and tension = good sex

Na’vi is going to be in blue

pairing - recom miles quaritch x omatikaya!fem! reader

cw! torture, the machine that was used on Spider basically, death, gore (?), very descriptive stuff sorry, sexually suggestive things hehe 🤭

mature content ahead : proceed with caution!

Give up the Sullys, your people, give up everything you’ve ever known for these demons. That’s what they wanted from you. The whirring of the machine was worse enough, but to give up your entire life? You couldn’t think of any other hell. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listened as the tiny woman called General, demanded you think of something, anything. But you couldn’t, you couldn’t give up your clan.

You sobbed, the pain was unbearable. It felt like the torture went on for hours, days maybe. There were moments when you almost gave in, almost just fessed up. You knew you’d be banished if you made it back to your clan. That’s if they kill you once they got what they needed. You knew at some point they’d figure out where Sully went whether the information was from you, Spider or simple clues.

Mustering some strength you prayed to Eywa, words jumbled as you fought against the pain. This only pissed the General off even more as Spider reluctantly translated for her. “We can do this all day. Either you fess up now or we find more painful ways to get the information out of you!” The General was too confident you thought, too confident in her stupid sky army and inventions. You just needed to resist a bit more, maybe they’d give up, or maybe you would. It was an internal battle you knew they figured out by now, after all they had your entire mind on display.

You figured you could use it to your advantage, think of something to combat them. Something to show them your strength and resistance. You’d think of crushing them, starting with the tiny woman in front of you. You pictured her in your mind, waiting for the observation of the little people in white coats. Once you heard them alert her, you moved on to the next phase in this scene.

Making sure the thought was clear in your head, you pictured yourself plunging your knife into her body. Hearing her scoff, you opened your eyes, making sure she saw your determination. Before she could walk away, you did your best to think of their fortress in flame, crushed under your peoples fist. “Very theatrical, you and your people, shame you’re all so stubborn, your clan would be great allies.” You hissed at her, watching as she moved to stop the machine, finding no more use in you.

You sighed in relief as the machine slowed, and the restraints loosened around your body. Looking down, you observed as she gestured for the soldier from before to take you away. You almost fought against him as he grabbed you, but the exhaustion was stronger. Going limp in his hold, you gave the woman one last glare before being pulled away from the machine.

Before you could get back to your room, you had to be checked by the ‘scientists’ and ‘doctors’. Once the Colonel was given the green light, he pulled you up by your arms, and began making his way back to your holding cell. Spider followed behind, ducking under the Colonel’s tail as it flicked behind him.

“Y/n! Are you alright? I’m so sorry they had to do that to you.” You groaned in response, the boy’s frantic voice piercing your ears drums. “Go away.” Huffing, you attempted to lay down on the table in the room but were stopped by the buffoon that got you into this mess. “Uh uh sweetheart, doc says you gotta stay awake for the next hour or two to make sure your brain’s alright”

Smacking your teeth, you slapped the Colonel’s hands away and sat back up. Before you could argue with the man you were grabbed by Spider. Wrapping his arms around you, Spider squeezed you tight. “I’m sorry Y/n. I know you think I’ve betrayed your people, but please just listen to me.”

Hearing a pained grunt from you, Spider pulled away and stood back up to full height. You truly did not want to hear the excuses but he was just a boy you thought to yourself. “Go ahead.” You sighed and patted the place next to you for Spider to sit.

“Look, I know it looks bad and all, but I was captured just like you, and they used that machine on me too. And if I could go back in time and make sure I died before they caught me, or got away, I’d make sure of it.” The Colonel chuckled snidely to himself at this, drawing out a growl from you. Turning, you faced Spider and placed a hand on his shoulder. He let out a shuddered breath, that of a sob. “You have to see me Y/n, please. You have to understand that I’d never give up the clan.”

You were torn, within the first few minutes of seeing him in this cell when you woke up, you’d accused him of betrayal to the clan. Rightfully so, which Spider assured you. You had every right to lose faith and trust in him, after all he was without restraint in this place, and the man before you is his father. Well, was. Spider explained everything to you, with the protest of the Colonel, or ‘Miles Quaritch’. He even explained that no, they couldn’t let you go, not even if you begged, or were of no use to the General. They couldn’t risk it. So you’d be stuck here until they somehow captured and killed your former clan leader.

General ‘Ardmore’ would find a use for you, whether you liked it or not, was what ‘Miles’ told you. And within the hour, she did. You’d help the Recom Crew blend in, learn some of the ways of The People. Against your wishes of course. It was one thing to have a human boy raised amongst the Na’vi, but it was another to have a Na’vi, let alone an Omatikaya member.

You’d be fed and given a room to stay in. “We ain’t that cruel.” Is what you remembered ‘Miles’ saying, in a deep accent that made you giggle. Everything he said was hilarious when he sounded like that. Even his half assed threats.

By the end of the day you’d figure out the names of some of the soldiers you saw from Spider’s descriptions. You wondered just why, would these people who hated Na’vi, want to become one? You knew that back home, everyone would find it humorous. Imagining your friends asking about their funny hands and feet. Your clan accepted Jake Sully and his children for their differences, but these dreamwalkers? Never. They’d never become Na’vi.

You chuckled to yourself at this thought. They were signing themselves up for certain failure. Even Jake Sully himself said that the training was tough, and he gave it his all. These people were too clumsy, worse than children, and reluctant to even accept their new identities. But as ‘Miles’ explained, these people, were only meant to be clones. Given the memories of dead marines. It almost comforted you, thinking that these people may have chances to change, but you knew better than to expect more from less.

Laying down on your cot, you sighed and looked up at the ceiling, wishing for the forest noises and night sky to quell your anguish.

For now you’d go over what soldiers to look out for, advice from Spider. ‘Miles’ you knew, was your best shot, if you could get under his skin, or convince him go change, maybe you’d have a chance at escaping. The thought invaded your mind. Just how would you use ‘Miles’ to your advantage? The more you thought, the more your mind shifted to him entirely.

“‘Miles’..” You said his name aloud. Testing it out on your tongue. It was nice but also pitiful almost, to waste such a man on a task. How useful he’d be back home with those arms. That you were focused on most. And his voice, how powerful you sensed it was. As stupid as his accent was, it almost, ignited something inside. Hearing him speak. Watching him move. The way his muscles ripped beneath his skin.

You shuddered at the imagine forming inside your mind. This man had captured you, you couldn’t allow yourself to be deceived by him. You grunted to yourself and flopped onto your side, pacifying yourself with wishes for home, as turmoil filled the back of your mind. Colonel, Miles, demon, dreamwalker, whatever he was, you couldn’t allow yourself to become another piece in their game.

You dreamt of home that night, and the wonders it would become with Miles.

Chap 3. I Caught Myself

[seleneblue]

Pomegranate Sea

pomegranate sea

x. Dracula 2020 x. Dracula x Reader x. Explicit-ish Note: This story is a repost. The music swelled. A half-lit moon hovered in the sky, a blue-white orb clouded with the smoke of night.

It was the perfect part of the evening: a spray of stars just beyond the window. A slow, moody dream of night—the moon's glow, candles and low lamps dotting the space, thick curtains pulled aside, the room mixed with velvet pillows and throws, art in the color of jewels and blood, the smell of musky sandalwood, and your heart beat. It was like a symphony (Dracula thought so).

The pulsation of Dracula's records played—with some delightful influence from you—and the delicious build up of tension.

Not that you would let on. The vinyl spun, a little cacophony of notes reminding you how easy it was to get lost, to feel dizzy. You were trying to concentrate, to feel focused in a book. You loved poetry, the words were like art and spells in one motion. It was a way to get lost in fantasy and truth.

But, you couldn't concentrate. And that also felt delicious.

Dracula sat across from you, eyes closed and purposeful, immersed in his night music. Truthfully, it made you fawn over him even more. The way he was so focused, so in tune with each note. The muscles in angled face relaxed. The way he sat in the carved chair, well over six feet tall like some kind of dark god. His eyes were closed. But was he looking at you when you were not looking at him? (Yes, but only when you couldn't tell.) You bit your bottom lip and licked it. The urge to be a distraction was fluttering deep inside. A warmth that started in your chest, moved up to your breasts, and down to your ribs. Almost like you were on fire. The waist of your dress was starting to feel hot. Constricting almost. You closed your book, letting your thumb stay on one page, so you wouldn't lose your place. If the distraction didn't work after all. "Drac—" "Yes, darling." He opened his eyes. You took a deep breath, feeling the buzzing within you, the scent of the candles, the night air, and the moon. He smelled your blood. It scared you, and yet you enjoyed it. His eyes studied you from across the room. "Have you, could you ever, taste poetry?" He leaned forward. You were always surprising him with questions. It never failed to intrigued him. It made you smell even better. "Explain, darling. I am quite curious." How the conversation would immediately turn to biting and irrevocably, blood. "Well, when you've told me in the past how you could taste joy, excitement, thrill, and even the longing or sadness." "Yes." "What if you could experience words or art, as I feel it?" All of a sudden he stood before you. Without seeing him move one limb. His tall frame facing you with his shirt sleeves cuffed to the elbow. Your body still in the chair. He smelled like leather and smoke, maybe even a bit of vanilla. A twinge of familiarity, sweet, and sweat. You needed it. You needed him. "What is it that you want?" You paused. He said your name like syrup. "I want to read a poem." "Yes, my beautiful little poet." He was closer now. Bent over your face, your thighs firmly planted in the chair. His lips so close to your face, the smell, the enticement of him getting stronger. "I want to read a poem while you drink me." "Go on." The grin appeared, the fangs poking past his lips ever so slightly. Your chest fluttered again. His lips drew closer, and soft, and hot, his lips starting to grace your bottom lip—and the music stopped. Suddenly he was at the record player turning the vinyl over. There he was, grinning and pleased. "Oh, I'm sorry darling, are you a bit...frustrated?" The quickening, the beating inside you drumming up like Dracula's music. The wetness grew between your thighs. "Mm, what is that you were saying?" There he was again, now behind you, leaning over, tucking your long soft hair behind your ear. Your tall and dark god full of smoke and blood. His finger traced down your jaw and then the slope of your neck. The coldness sent a delicate shiver along your side. Your thighs clenched. Perhaps, the dance of arousal was one of the most beloved parts of this waltz. "I-I...would like to read, and I would like you to drink from me." "But, of course. Your wish is my command." He breathed in your scent, and held your neck in his hands. You felt like melting, and somehow still kept the place in your book. "My little poet, please read," he growled. His voice was like a myth. How could you say no? Suddenly the music notes flitted into your body. The candle flamed. The moon lit brighter. Your own raging desire. The words on the page weaving their own spell. You read. The words speckled the page like blood. A lush red pomegranate sea. The poem painted a dreamscape in your mind. Each line spun and spun. Dracula's lips kissed your neck first. A soft, hot meeting. The delicious burning. Teeth sank into your neck, and still you read the poem. A stanza about the sun, a glowing orb, in all of its glory. Fire.

Your body pulsated, chest warmed, and warmed more. There were his hands, one at your throat, the other cupped your waist. You could've buckled underneath him. If only that hand would have ripped your dress right then. Your body gave into a wave of pleasure. A rich ocean washed over your body, muscles tightening and releasing. Your blood on your neck, on his lips. He stopped; to kiss you, to trail his fingers down your breasts. "My, my...my darling." Yes, you said, with quickened breath. His tongue lightly nipped over the two teeth marks on your neck. He faced you now. "You are a poem," he said. "I hope it never stops." The music kept on. The candles still burned. Dracula pulled your body close to him, guiding your face into his chest.

[mofffun]

Music Collection vol.3 repo

note: i don't know a thing about music somebody please please do a musical analysis of king-ohger some day

There's still no "Mysterious Debut" from ep4!!! Did you guys forget it??!!

1: I didn't even knew i needed the narration bgm but thank you narration bgm. recgonized it immediately.

2: this is my favourite (non-obstructing) version of instrumental Zenryoku King so far

Shugoddom 2 years after: there's still kind of a solem march disciplinary rhythm but it feels more upbeat and cheerful than authoritarian

N'kosopa: my instinct reaction is: freedom. contrary to Shugoddom, i don't hear a single instrument as the melody it feels more background noise in a good sense. As in it suits the environment as opposed to dominating the scene. Maybe you can make a theory about there's no single driving force and N'kosopa is all about community

Ishabana: I don't have much of a reaction to it but i think it's more… subtle? as in v1 was very much announcing Himeno's appearance and you're supposed to fall head over heels for her and v2 is "I'm exerting beauty regardless of your worship"?

Toufu: it's so fun. you know you're in for a ride. wouldn't be out of place if it plays at the mall during new year.

Gokkan: I LOVE YOU. this part brainwashed me back in 27 and i kept thinking if this is the Gokkan theme or the Shugddom theme because they share that orchestral repeat and it plays into Jeramie and Gira transforming (btw Jeramie is not in that medley). In the middle it turned sombre again but the melody comes back on it's like regaining control and the song is proper balanced!

8: i think this is an earlier bgm we don't hear as often now. very comforting while alluring you to a bedtime story. i like the strings 1 minute in

9: YES JERAMIE'S CHOIR DEBUT SONG IS HERE. *blast it at highest volume* love the wind chimes 0:37-0:50 you really need to turn it max to hear, and it stops when the drum starts building tension. there's beats of "8. A story wiped from history" at the end too.

10: i see it… ep26… buganarok national day *wipe tears*

11: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 RITAAAAAAA

12: violin INFERNO!!! i love this one. my strongest impression of it was in ep11 the orphans griefing about Gira. What do you mean it's called "A king's compassion for his peole" 😭😭

13: the! the touching bgm!

15: love Dugded's theme. SW vibes if i say so, knowing Hidetsuna did use SW as an inspiration for chapter 2. strong impact the first time i hear it.

16: i can sing along to this

17: ?… OH "Racles's schemes"!! Hello old friend! Another one to sing along.

(these dug themes are melting together for me…)

20: Does this share some sounds with "18. Uchuuoh's Iron First"???

22: compared with "Assemble! The five kings", I like the ch2 assemble theme is more [穩重]… more mature and grounded. There's still the same insipiring quality but a sense of you can really trust them to take care of everything instead of just raging on an adventure. I guess it's they are working better as like a team.

ringtones:

gira/racles: evil vs hero. will believe racles's ringtone is the official shugoddom anthem.

yanma: THAT'S OUR PREZ! (anything i can say will never be as GOAT as Hidetsuna-san designing a wblue matching ringtone)

himeno: afternoon tea

rita: i hadn't noticed there's a "dun-duh" after the chibi moffun chirps. Rita is always getting calls and always cutting their ringtones short 😂 sorry Rita but gotta say the sharp chirps is not good for my ears

kagu: i almost forgot his bgm is like this 😂 very fitting i guess

jeramie: medieval european bard

out of the 8 the only one i'd consider using is probably jeramie's. and maybe yanma's racles song 😂

now we need a retro rpg with the ringtones as bgm

insert songs:

Pride and Brave: ooh the full song is much better than just the ed segment! something about Takatori-san's voice being nostalgically reassuring. Like the crossover itself, very traditional-flavoured sentai. I always thought of "Waking the King" as an "ura-OP", the OP King-Oh would have if it's born 10 years earlier, and this is the special edition crossover movie dancing ED.

Just we go: This is the "image song" of ch2 so it hasn't been used in the show yet. Contrary to "Waking the King" this feels more like an "ura-ED" but not a dance one, closer to a Rider ED. The lyrics is very affirming of the kings' journey this past (three) year(s) - that i feel like, a message that i receive from the show, is you can always make up for your mistakes and you always have a second chance, and the lyrics is saying that. It maybe the same vague hopeful words but it's about taking everything that happened to you, ackowledged how hard you fought, to protect your home and then facing the future without reservations. cliche of cliche but it works!

I'm still alive: I love this song. I've waited for it since ep 2. TWO. (now it's released the crown of longest-waiting bgm is passed to Mysterious from ep4).

and I feel so sorry and mean if I critique the grammar because the artist and team worked hard on it and musically it's wonderful! The grammar just takes it a little bit out of immersion. Now i'm curious if the lyrics has a japanese blueprint that better convey the message. Reagrdless, it's interesting to think of the english language is part of Yanma's antique/retro hobby. Maybe English is an antiqudated language on Chikyuu so the gramma is odd to modern Chikyuu ears.

[darthvashtique93]

Sleep

The sexual tension had been building and building and building until it finally exploded in an array of words and silent, rude gestures. The hurtful words like 'replacement' and 'demon' may have been exchanged, but not a single voice was raised…there was no shouting. Their teammates only watched in fear as barbs were calmly exchanged between the two.

It had been almost a week since the argument, and he hadn't slept a wink. They were giving each other the silent treatment, and the team had had enough. Right before they called for an intervention, he was called to Gotham. Tim Drake needed to make an appearance in the place of Bruce Wayne, who was off-world.

He slept two hours on the jet, and an hour before the gala. Out of 5 days, he'd slept three hours. After the gala, he had to go on patrol with Nightwing and Red Hood. Both told Red Robin that he "looked like shit and need to sleep." Red Robin snarled out them and sped out of the cave, leaving two very confused brothers behind.

Red Robin was cold. The pelting rain hurt as it landed on his face. He was so tired. At the moment, he was sitting on top of a gargoyle, looking out over the city, with nowhere to hide from the rain. He didn't have the energy to respond to the jokes Nightwing and Red Hood were cracking in his ear.

Now that he was away from the situation, regret began to set in. He had been harsh, but so had she. Still, he was the leader. He could have deescalated the situation. Instead, he threw out the word, 'demon', causing her to respond with the word he hated most - 'replacement.'

Red Robin groaned. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Lately, everything she did either annoyed him or angered him. Like, the way she drummed her fingers on any surface when she was annoyed; the way she stared at him with her knowing, vibrant eyes; and the way she was there to stop him from doing something stupid. Those things drove him crazy. Then there was the way she bit one side of her lip; the way she'd hang her head to hide a blush any time she was complemented; the way her hair draped in front of her face when she tilted her head. Don't even get him started on her hair. He'd felt it once. It was silky soft. He'd also spent time studying her lips that were begging to be kissed. Those things annoyed him to know ends. Why did she have to smile in a way that gave him tingles in multiple places? It pissed him off. She needed to frown more. And her breathing – did she really have to inhale like that every time she caught him gazing at her. It was infuriating. Why couldn't she breathe like a normal human? Red Robin frowned as he remembered she was anything but normal.

Red Robin stood from his spot on the gargoyle and jumped to the flat surface of the roof. He needed to apologize. But why should he be the one to say sorry first? Red Robin shook his head, his soaked hair slapping his face. He needed to figure out his feelings - "Why don't you come in?" Nightwing suggested. "It's almost 4 a.m., and you could use some rest."

"Yeah," Red Hood chimed in, "you've been a real grump tonight. What's your deal?"

Red Robin didn't respond. He couldn't. She was there, in front of him. Standing right there. She'd just emerged from the shadows. 'How long had she been there?' he had asked, ignoring his brothers, who were both speaking in his ear.

She stepped forward, removing her hood. The torrents of rain immediately soaked her hair, and his eyes began to wander. She was saying something, probably apologizing. He was too busy tracking the raindrops rolling down her face to pay attention to her words. His world slowed as he watched her. Before he knew it, he was approaching her with confidence. He stood directly in front of her, looking down into her violet eyes. She took a small step back to put some distance between them.

"Tim," his name slipped from her mouth. Red Robin had had it. Wrapping a strong arm around her waist, he pulled her into his body and placed his lips on top of hers. Suddenly, it all made sense. Though, he really should have known – he'd been in this position before with previous lovers. Only his feelings for her were more intense, and he never kissed Bernard in the rain. "Tim, are you there?" Dick asked. "Tim?"

Red Robin ripped his earpiece from his ear as his lips continued to move against hers. His tracker was still in place, Dick and Jason could reach him if they needed him.

Grabbing her thigh, he placed her leg around his waist, and she immediately wrapped the other leg around his waist. Red Robin pushed her back into the wall for support. Making out on a roof in uniform – Batman would kill him. As if he hasn't done way more on a roof with Catwoman, Red Robin thought as he pressed his hard body into Raven's soft one. Even though he couldn't feel her through his plated armor, his entire body was on fire. The freezing rain did nothing to quench the flames inside of him. "Bed," he whispered breathlessly against her lips. A portal opened, and Red Robin felt himself fall forward. He immediately stuck his hands out, bracing himself so he didn't fall on top of her.

Once he was stable, he ripped off his mask and threw it somewhere in the room before placing his lips over hers again. Her mouth was hot against his, and her lips were so soft. Tim shoved his tongue into her mouth and rubbed it roughly against hers. Raven's groan vibrated against his mouth, and the feeling made him shiver from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He needed to feel her.

He abruptly sat up. Using his teeth, he pulled one glove off his hand while he used his other hand to unclip his cape. Removing his other glove, he too, tossed it somewhere. His lips were back on hers again within a split second. He shuddered when he felt her fingers dig into his scalp. Groaning, he blindly felt for her cape and unclipped it. Yanking the soaking wet fabric out from underneath her, he threw it. It hit the wall before landing on the floor with a splat.

Breathing heavily, Tim looked down at the empath. He could just make out her features in the dark room. Her eyes were purple and bright and seemed to glow. Her breasts moved up and down with every deep breath she took.

Caressing her face, he slowly made his way down to her lips that he softly traced with his thumb. "Beautiful," he said. He then went to work on his uniform, removing his utility belt and dropping it by the side of the bed. He removed his bulletproof-plated armor that she herself had enchanted, making crime fighting a lot safer. Never breaking eye contact, he removed his boots and placed them neatly at the foot of the bed before slowly removing his tights. When he returned to his bed, he was only wearing black briefs. Crawling over Raven, he spread her legs and knelt between them. She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands began to slowly, tentatively, reach for him. Tim grabbed her wrists gently and placed them on his waist right above the elastic band. Instead of grabbing the briefs, which he had expected, Raven slowly dragged her hands up his bare chest, feeling each and every ab. Tim inhaled sharply and breathed out slowly. Her hands were so warm and soft. He leaned over her, bracing himself on his hands as she caressed his shoulders down to his arms. She slowly made her way back up to his neck and face, caressing his cheeks and tracing his lip. Tim placed a gentle kiss on her gloved hand. Raven inhaled sharply at the feel.

Tim slowly leaned back down and began to gently kiss her. He kissed her upper lip and then her lower lip as he searched for the catch in the back of her suit. Finding it, he slowly dragged the zipper down her back. Raven arched into him to give him better access. Once it was down her back, she sat up and helped Tim remove her uniform. It took a little longer to remove Raven's than his being that Raven wore a catsuit that stuck like second skin.

Now, they were both in their undergarments. Bracing himself on his forearms, Tim kissed her slowly and languidly with his tongue searching the crevices of her mouth. Raven wrapped her arms around Tim's neck and brought her closer. "Tim," she whispered as they slowly separated, "I'm ready." Tim's eyes widened as he stared down at her in shock and surprise. They'd already gone a lot farther than he'd expected, and he was okay stopping here. Raven placed a hand against his cheek and said, "I want you."

Tim surged forward, fusing their lips together, pressing every inch of his body against hers. His hands wandered and skimmed over every inch of skin, and hers did the same. He was on fire; he needed relief, but imagining the rain freezing rain falling against his skin helped him cool down. His movements slowed and became more controlled. They'd have more opportunities for him to give in and lose self-control, but for now, it was about her. He'd cool down just for her.

Hours later, after rounds and rounds of lovemaking, Tim lay on his side with his arms wrapped around Raven. Every now and then he'd move his thumb up and down against her arm, and she'd shiver against him. His body was slowly coming back to life with each shiver. He exhaled heavily. His body was ready for another round, but his brain one out in the end. There was no doubt in his mind that she was sore. He was sore. She had initiated things Tim didn't think she was ready for, but she once again, proved him wrong. Kissing her hair as she snuggled deeper against him, Tim closed his eyes and finally slept.

[kpodcast]

P1Harmony's Killin' It

First of all, I love P1Harmony; I don't know that many of their songs, but the few I do know I really love ("Doom Du Doom" "Gotta Get Back" "Do It Like This" + some others)! Here are some thoughts on their most recent release Killin' It.

If you have any music suggestions, don't hesitate to reach out! I'd love to listen to your favorite song!

Killin' It I LOVE the opening instrumental, and the way it continues underneath the vocals down an octave and down another octave! I love that lowest octave <3 The instrumental harmonies in the prechorus are so cool sounding! I really like the shouty non-pitched chorus - I know these types of choruses can be a little controversial, but I love the hype they can bring.

Late Night Calls This opening melody is so beautiful, especially with the vocal octaves at 0:19!! The acoustic guitar accompaniment in the prechorus is so pretty. The chorus bumps up into a double time feel, and gives a neat contrast from the verse & prechorus. The spatial sound is SUCH a cool effect (1:57)!

Everybody Clap I love a good subtonic!! The opening line is so fun to listen to. The rising instrumental (almost sounds like a car revving?) under the verse brings tension that gets released so satisfyingly during the prechorus! The opening line comes back in the vocal during the chorus, and I adore that mirroring. The rap @ 1:23 is so good and then they drop the little accent harmonies in there and really take it up a notch! The bridge feels like a calm before the storm: it's lower energy, but has rising lines in the background that build tension, which makes the vocal line of the chorus an incredible arrival point.

Love Story A sweet lil love song <3!!! The melody of the chorus starting in a beautifully controlled higher register and then ending all the way DOWN in that low low register for the final "love story" is so moving! And how often do we hear idols sing that low? And then they use that low voice to end the song! I've got goosebumps..

Countdown To Love I loved the vibe of this song from the first second. And 0:22 really cemented that love. The style changes, the bass line changes from following the chord progression to a simple descending line, and the percussion simplifies a lot as well. It's a moment of negative audio space, and it's a cool backing for the rap verses. Something similar happens at the bridge - without the descending bass line, and is a nice break from the upbeat driving force of the rest of the song.

Emergency The face I made when I first heard this was so ugly (in a good way. yknow... stank face?). I love vocal slide at the end of "emergenCY". The break at 1:15 for "beep-beep" is a really cool interest point, the instrumental has been such a pushing, driving force, and just. full stops in a hard cut.

2Nite This song isn't so in-your-face driving like the last two songs, but it still has a lot of energy. It's just more laid back. That bass + face first verse is a classic way to build a tune up in jazz; super cool to hear it in kpop! I love the stop time at hold up (1:36), it's more subtle than the break in "Emergency" but no less cool. the minimal drums throughout works really well to give the song a sense of moving forward, but it's subtle; the song is very bass driven.

Let Me Love You Yet another incredible bass line from p1basslines. This one slaps (literally. it's slap bass, right?). I love the way this opening bass line hints at the melody of the hook, and later is played in full after the final chorus under the outro vocals. The prechorus slows down with a half time feel, and then the vocal melody of the chorus match the bass line. The post chorus brings back that half time feel leading back into the verse. The end of the bridge into the last chorus is a WOAH moment for me - it delays the chorus with an instrumental moment that takes from the melody of the song.

Street Star The vibes of this remind me of an illegal street race. The instrumental is so busy with the trap hi-hat and a synth melody, but it's not distracting from the vocals. I love the bass line in the prechorus (can't you see racecars speeding by while you listen to that?). The style change at 2:03 is incredible, and only lasts for ten seconds. It lays back so far into the pocket, but seamlessly returns to the other style. I wish it lasted for longer! I also wish we had more of that instrumental bit at the very end of the song.

I See U this is my favorite from the album <3 The opening melody is so catchy and beautiful. The synth chord pads, and the breaks in the melody for the melodic synth fills are so good. The break at 0:58 gives such a cool emphasis to that section, especially because it doesn't happen in the other choruses! All the ad libs at the end of the song are so tasty! I cannot say enough good things about this song!!

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Happy Monday! Hope all is well is your world. Any PFR snippet to share today? 😊

Sure! Let’s pick up right where the last one left off, in the heat of chapter two. Fair warning that this story is far from being posted so it hasn’t been edited, but this should begin to sketch out the general tensions of the piece:

Jane pulled her close, front to front. Maura’s brain powered down. When Jane’s hand splayed against the small of her back, her sex powered up. “It’s how we talk to each other, isn’t it? What’s wrong with that? English can be sexy, too.”

“When it’s…” when it’s coming out of your mouth. Maura stopped herself with a touch on Jane’s shoulder. She rubbed there, moved to raise her other arm, but Jane grabbed it.

Jane stared. “Uh uh,” started Jane. “This ain’t dance class. C’mere.” Then, she splayed the fingers of her left hand over Maura’s hip, tugging it forward until Maura turned, back against Jane’s front.

The spell had been broken and reality disoriented Maura. Lights peppered the otherwise dark club at intervals in time with the song’s drums, and she caught glimpses of people in positions just like hers, but they were moving. There was sweat and sloshing mixed drinks and sloppy kisses shared from awkward angles that somehow still looked salacious enough to cause pregnancy. Is that what they would be doing? Could she do that?

“Don’t worry, we’re gonna go slow,” Jane whispered into her ear, as if reading everything Maura had been thinking. And then, as if to disperse all of that insight, Jane doused Maura with ice water. “It’s just for fun,” she said, and Maura shuddered.

“I don’t -” I don’t want that? I don’t want it to just be for fun? Is that what Maura really meant? She couldn’t have said. The tequila melted her inhibition and her limbs started to loosen.

Jane took advantage, and if she heard Maura’s half sentence, she didn’t acknowledge it. Both hands went to Maura’s hips, and shoved them back into Jane’s front. Then, rather than forcing Maura to move while the music sounded around them, Jane moved. First, it was her left thumb in one of Maura’s belt loops, a seatbelt to keep her in place, and then it was a slow cock of her waist, up then down - slow. “Not about the beat yet. Just about the motion. Go with it.”

“O-ok,” Maura answered. She closed her eyes so that she could feel herself against Jane, so that she could feel Jane moving and then follow it. Since when had Jane assumed the role of temptress in their friendship? Since when had Maura wanted to be tempted? Since, apparently, Maura’d gotten the hang of winding her hips and they’d sped up to match the music. Then, oh, Jane dropped back while keeping her pelvis forward and the training wheels dropped off.

At that moment in Jane and Tatiana’s sequence, Tatiana had employed ungodly amounts of confidence and had bent forward, letting gravity and her knees shake her ass in ways… well. It was new to Maura. And it was calculus to this very algebraic equation she and Jane were building.

But, on top of that, when Jane dropped away to watch, something hooked into Maura’s heart and pulled. The injury tasted like reflux and hurt like a burn. Not like the tequila was making a reappearance, but like, oh fuck it.

Maura turned, and wrapped an arm around Jane’s shoulders. She kept up their sensuality strong with the sway of her body and pulled Jane close.

Jane straightened her back and stood up straight, bringing Maura closer because of the way Maura still hung on her. She curled one brow. “Miss me?” she asked with a drunken little chuckle.

Maura pouted. “I wanted to see you. What is the point of this if you can’t see the person you’re trying to seduce?”

Jane’s chuckled turned into a bark of laughter. “Oh I could see you alright,” she said, her hand resting on the top of Maura’s ass as it moved, though it slowed. She made a show of peeking around to look right at it.

Maura smacked Jane’s shoulder and huffed. The song wound down while they swayed together, and she sighed. “I’m getting quite drunk,” she admitted.

“Yeah me, too,” Jane moved to a respectable hug across Maura’s back and sighed. “And you know what that means,” she said, “gotta get more shots till the awkward goes away.”

Then Jane turned Maura’s jaw toward Frankie’s small table closer to the edge of the dance floor, and tossed a glance in that direction. Frankie lifted a few beers at them as he sported an ear-to-ear grin. “Oh no,” Maura lamented, “I’m going to regret this in the morning.”

“We all are,” Jane said, pulling Maura by the hand back toward their group. “Let’s live a little anyway.”

“You’re certainly uninhibited!” shouted Maura as they moved through bodies.

Jane pulled her closer until they were flush again, Maura’s front to Jane’s back. “Blame the Casamigos, kid,” said Jane.

“Or should I blame the very beautiful Martinez sibling we’ve encountered?” Maura replied much more quietly than her last statement.

“Yeah, I guess you could do that, too,” Jane said through another laugh. When they approached, Frankie shoved a beer in her face. She put her hands up even though Maura took hers. “Uh uh,” Jane told her brother, “bathroom first. It better still be here when I get back.”

[queen-of-the-avengers]

The Avengers: Part Seven

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You and Steve walk over to the labs to see him and Bruce working on dissecting the scepter as much as they can.

"Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension. No surprises."

Tony pokes Bruce with a miniature electrical prod that causes Bruce to jump from the pain. Steve walks in, clearly pissed at Tony for having done so.

"Ow!"

"Nothing?" Tony chuckles.

"Hey! Are you nuts?" Steve glares.

"You really have got a lid on it, haven't you? What's your secret? Mellow jazz? Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?"

"Is everything a joke to you?"

"Funny things are," Tony shrugs.

"Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn't funny. No offense, Doctor."

"No, it's alright. I wouldn't have come aboard if I couldn't handle pointy things," Bruce chuckles.

"You're tiptoeing, big man. You need to strut."

"Tony," you say and shake your head.

"You need to focus on the problem, Mr. Stark."

"You think I'm not? Why did Fury call us, and why now? Why not before? What isn't he telling us? I can't do the equation unless I have all the variables."

"You think Fury's hiding something?"

"He's always had something else going on, even back in 1995. He was secretive about the work Pegaus was doing before Carol and I basically threatened him to tell us."

"He's a spy. Captain, he's the spy. His secrets have secrets." Tony points to Bruce. "It's bugging him too, isn't it?"

"I just wanna finish my work here," Bruce stutters. He sees the look you, Tony, and Steve are giving him. "A warm light for all mankind is Loki's jab at Fury about the cube. I think that was meant for you." He says to Tony.

"The Stark Tower? That big ugly," Tony gives him a bitch look, "building in New York?"

"It's powered by Stark Reactors, a self-sustaining energy source. That building will run itself for what, a year?"

"That's just the prototype. I'm kind of the only name in clean energy right now," Tony shrugs.

"Why didn't SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project? I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?"

"Phase 2," you mumble.

"What?"

You remember something Fury said about Phase 2 when you first returned back to Earth.

"I should probably look into that once my decryption programmer finishes breaking into all of SHIELD's secure files. Jarvis has been running it since I hit the bridge. In a few hours, we'll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide." Tony holds up a bag of blueberries toward you and Steve. "Blueberry?"

"You're breaking into their files, yet you're confused about why they didn't want you around?"

"An intelligence organization that fears intelligence? Historically, not possible."

"I think Loki's trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war, and if we don't stay focused, he'll succeed. We have orders, we should follow them."

"Following is not really my style," Tony says.

"You're all about style, aren't you?" Steve glares.

"Of the people in this room, which one is; A. wearing a spangly outfit, and B. not of use?"

"Tony, stop it," you say sternly.

Steve puts a hand on your shoulder as if to say, "I got this."

"Steve, tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?" Bruce asks.

"Just find the cube."

Steve walks out of the lab angrily but instead of going to the bridge, he turns and heads towards the hull of the ship. He hates it but Tony got into his head. He can't wait for Jarvis so he's going to do it himself. You look at Tony and cross your arms like you're a disapproving mother.

"Don't give me that look."

"Y/N, we need you," Fury's voice comes over your earpiece. You leave the lab and head to his office which is located near Loki's cell. "I need you to figure out what Loki's play is."

"What? Why me?"

"You're the only one who knows him. I heard you earlier. You two have history. He'll talk to you."

"I doubt it. He's not one for talking much these days."

"You're our best bet. Otherwise, I'd have to send in Romanoff. I figured I'd go to you first."

"Fine," you sigh. "Just make sure you're the only one who listening. I don't really need the whole team knowing my personal life like that, and it's going to get really personal in there."

"Sure."

You prepare yourself to go in there alone. Once you're ready, you sneak into the room and see Loki with his back turned to you. His head is lowered as he thinks but his entire body goes rigid when he finally feels you there.

"There's not many people that can sneak up on me," he says lowly and turns to you.

"But you figured I'd come."

"After. After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm, and I would cooperate," he chuckles.

"Can we just be real right now? It's just you and me." His gaze goes to the camera. "There's no audience, no one to impress, no one to put on a show for. It's just me here. Can you be real for one second?" You cross your arms. "Do you understand what you're doing here? My friends are on this ship. You're on this ship. You're gonna hurt a lot of people, and that's not the man I know. What happened to the man who once took me around Asgard and bought me every flower he laid his eyes on?"

"Is this love, Y/N?"

"You already know the answer to that," you whisper.

"Tell me, what you remember," he says and sits down on the bench.

You'll play into his games. This is what he wants. He wants you vulnerable. He wants you to lower your guard so that he can break you. Whoever is manipulating his mind wants him to ruin everything he has so that the only thing he wants is to please whoever it is. What he does know is you're playing a game of your own, and he's an unwilling participant.

"I remember you being so gentle with me because I was so scared to be alone after the battle. I remember running through the garden with you and feeding the fish in the pond. I remember you offering me your bed while you slept on the couch, only for you to find your way next to me after a few weeks. I remember being in the library and you'd hold me in your arms as you would read, and we would be in peace because no one ever went in that library except for us. I remember you showing off your magic to impress me despite you telling me that you weren't, and I'd show you my powers because I wanted to impress you. I remember the way your lips felt against mine every time we kissed. I remember talking with you almost every night. You told me so many secrets, Loki, and most importantly, you let me in. I remember--"

You suddenly stop because you're getting ahead of yourself. Thinking about the memories is a lot different than talking about them.

"What else?"

His voice seems so small. You must be doing something to him because he is bouncing his leg nervously while clenching his jaw.

"You told me you trusted me, and I know that's a big thing for you. All you've felt is betrayal and lies and abandonment, and that may be why you erased yourself from my mind, but that doesn't give you the right. Just because you couldn't handle the possibility that someone else loves you for who you are because I did--I love you so much--doesn't mean you get to go around hurting people for your pain."

"Love? You sure it's not loved?"

"Do you want it to be loved?"

Loki stands and begins pacing the cell.

"What will you do if I vow to spare everyone on this ship?"

"The question isn't what would I do, the question is what would you do? Take away the scepter and what's left? A broken man who just wants to be seen? Loki, I can see how much you're hurting. I-I don't know who is manipulating you or why but if you'd just let me, I'd can take away your pain and suffering. You did it once before. Why won't you let me now?"

Loki storms over to you and slams his fist against the glass, making you flinch back.

"I never trusted you!" he yells. "Whatever you thought happened back then is childish and pathetic! Keeping you there was the best kind of torture I could have given you. To let you believe you were safe from Markus. To give you a home! Right when you were the most comfortable, the most safe, I took that away from you. I was the one who called Markus to let him know where you were so I could witness your whole world collapse around you. Then, and only then, was I finally relieved of the burden you had become."

His words sting, yes, but you're mainly crying for show. What you two shared wasn't an act. He's only saying this because all he knows how to do is lash out in anger. He'll hurt anyone to prevent himself from being hurt. You gasp and turn away from him so he doesn't see your tears.

"You're a monster," you say.

"No, you brought the monster," he laughs.

Your entire facade drops when you realize exactly what he's planning. That's the reason why he let you take him so easily. That's the reason why he allowed Bruce to work on the scepter so closely. He wants to hurt as many people as he can, and that won't be possible unless the Hulk comes out. You turn to Loki, tears gone from your face.

"So, Banner is your play?"

"What?" Loki asks, staggered by your question.

"Loki means to unleash the Hulk. Get Bruce the hell out of that lab. I'm on my way," you say to Fury over your earpiece. You turn to Loki and give him a smile. "I only spent a year on Asgard with you, but I know all of your tips and tricks. They don't exactly work on me, and you know damn well not to try to scare me because I proved to you in the first week that I don't scare easily. You can lie and manipulate all you want, but we both know that I know who you really are. It breaks my heart to see you trying to be someone you're not because you are the better brother, and I love you the way you are now. That won't ever change. Plus, if you truly meant what you just said to me, and I know you didn't, then I would already be dead. You can fuck up as many times as you like, but I'll be there to hold your hand and make you feel better. I'm quite good at it."

You leave the room and head down to the labs in hopes Bruce got the hell out of it. When you get there, he's still inside next to the scepter. Fury walks in minutes before you after seeing you leave the cell.

"Bruce, you need to get the hell out of here. That secepter is going to mess with your mind."

"What are you doing, Mr. Stark?" Fury storms in.

He must have seen Tony trying to get access to his files.

"I've kind of been wondering the same thing about you."

"You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract."

"We are," Bruce says, pointing to the monitor. "The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile."

"You'll get your cube back, no muss, no fuss." The computer beeps and Tony looks at the secure files popping up. "What's Phase 2?"

There is it. There are those words again. You turn to Fury when Steve barges in with a big gun in his hands. He slams it to the table, and you're grateful it's not loaded.

"Phase 2 is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons. Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow."

"Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean that we're--"

"I'm sorry, Nick." Tony moves the computer screen toward Fury which shows plans of those exact weapons. "What were you lying?"

"I was wrong, director. The world hasn't changed a bit," Steve glares.

At this moment, Natasha and Thor walk into the lab. You step forward and look at Bruce carefully.

"Did you know about this?" he asks you.

"You might want to leave this lab, Bruce, because you're not gonna like what happens if you stay. I don't think you want to break your streak. Do you?"

"Oh, I was out until you dragged me back in."

"Loki is manipulating you!"

"You've been doing what exactly?"

"You didn't exactly come here because I bat my eyelashes at you."

"No, I came because you're a friend who asked for my help. I didn't want to, but you had to pull that card, didn't you? Now, I'm not leaving because you suddenly get a little twitchy. I'd like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction."

"Because of them," Fury says and points to you and Thor.

"Us?"

"Seventeen years ago, I came face to face with two women who were from different planets trying to destroy a race which, in turn, cost millions of dollars to make go away. Last year, Earth had that same woman and a group of her friends who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned."

"My people want nothing but peace with your planet," Thor defends himself.

"You're not the only people out there, are you? You're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched and can't be controlled."

"Like you controlled the cube?" Steve asks.

"Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki and his allies to it. It is the signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war. You forced our hand. We had to come up with something."

"Nuclear deterrent," Tony scoffs, "because that always calms everything down, right?"

"Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?"

"I'm sure if he still made weapons Stark would be neck-deep in--"

"Wait! Wait! Hold on! How is this now about me?" Tony interrupts Steve.

"I'm sorry, isn't everything?"

"I thought humans were more evolved than this," Thor mumbles to himself.

"Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?" Fury asks Thor, having heard him.

"Did you always give your champions such mistrust?"

"Are you boys really that naive? SHIELD monitors potential threats," Natasha adds.

Captain America is on threat watch?"

"We all are."

"Are you more above or below angry bees?" Tony asks Nat.

"Stark, I swear to God, if you make one more wisecrack joke--"

"Threat! Verbal threat! I feel threatened!" Tony throws his hands up.

"Show some respect," Steve glares.

"Respect what? You?"

Everyone is arguing and speaking over each other. This is the kind of chaos that the scepter needs. If you don't remove Bruce from this lab right now, then things are going to get a whole lot more crazy and a lot more... green. You've been alive for too long to partake in this petty argument, but it is starting to give you a slight headache.

"You speak of control, yet you court chaos," Thor says to Tony.

"It's his MO, isn't it? I mean, what are we? A team? No, no, no. We're a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We're a ticking time bomb."

This is why you warned Fury about bringing people with a bunch of great power in one room together.

"Bruce, please leave the room," you beg him.

"Why shouldn't the guy let off a little steam?" Tony grins and puts his hand on Steve's shoulder.

"You know damn well why! Back off!" Steve shouts and throws Tony's hand off him.

"Oh, I'm starting to want you to make me," Toy glares and steps closer to him.

"Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?"

"Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist," Tony doesn't hesitate to say.

"I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. Yeah, I've seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you."

"I think I would just cut the wire," Tony shrugs.

"You always have a way out... You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero."

Tony glares angrily at Steve. He just hit a nerve.

"A hero? Like you? You're a lab rat, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!"

"Okay, stop it! All of you! This isn't helping. This is exactly what Loki wants. You're just feeding into him!" you say.

It's like they don't even hear you. Two men are just focused on beating the other. Steve steps closer to Tony with a glare.

"Put on the suit, let's go a few rounds."

"You people are so petty and tiny," Thor laughs.

"Y/N, would you escort Dr. Banner back to his--"

"Where? You rented my room!"

"The cell was just in case--"

"In case you needed to kill me, but you can't! I know! I've tried!" Everyone goes silent at his words. "I got low. I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out! So, I moved on. I focused on helping other people." He looks at you. "I was good until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk!"

As he is talking, he grabs the scepter angrily and lifts it from the case. Everyone stares at him in fear of what he might do with it. Fury and Natasha slowly reach for their guns which are holstered to their sides.

"You wanna know my secret, Y/N? You wanna know how I stay calm?"

"Bruce put down the scepter," you warn.

Bruce looks down and is shocked to see he's holding Loki's weapon. The computer beeps, signaling they got a hit, and he places the scepter back on the table.

"Sorry, kids. You don't get to see my little party trick after all."

"Did it locate the Tesseract?" Thor asks. "Look, The Tesseract belongs on Asgard. No human is a match for it."

"I can get there faster," Tony says and starts to leave the room.

"You're not going alone!" Steve stops him.

"Are you gonna stop me?"

"Put on the suit, let's find out."

"I'm not afraid to hit an old man."

"Put on the suit," Steve glares.

Suddenly, one of the engines of the ship is blown up by an unknown force, and it's enough to knock everyone off their feet. You're thrown back next to Steve and Tony, Natasha and Bruce are slammed through the ground and to the lower equipment room, and the rest are thrown back by the impact in all directions.

"Put on the suit!" Steve says in a different tone.

"Yep!"

x

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[still-single]

Lupo Città s/t LP (12XU)

RECOMMENDED

Here's ten songs from a fairly new, positively charged trio from the Boston metro that got me thinking about the emotional times the directive, the historical times the experiential.

A duo of Jenn Gori and Sarah Black (guitar, bass, drums, vocals) share history performing together in four previous bands in a variety of settings and locales, and met guitar deity Chris Brokaw at a post-lockdown gathering (there's the experiential, and honestly much of what puts such a cracked-mirror disconnect on those years was that not being able to exist in person), starting a tentative collaboration that grew into a whole album. Brokaw has history all his own, bordering on the Biblical in terms of legend and importance; any body of a person's library of recordings that doesn't feature at least some his work extensively in the CO's (Codeine, Come, Consonant), to say nothing of his untouchable solo albums, soundtracks, and perhaps that GG Allin & the AIDS Brigade 7", ain't all that buff at the end of the day. Now the three of them build history out of this experience, linked forever at the psychic fingertips.

So it's hard to figure out where two start and the other stop; best not to think about that at all, because we're watching this history unfold. And one of the things that history/experience is doing best is underlining the needle-to-thread of a song versus the hammer of performing it. The tension within Lupo Città – which is a primary distinctive of what makes this record so memorable – exists in the space between these actions. Every time I jump into this thing and hear the buzzsaw of something like "Shawano Pickup" I'm thinking, here's a band that's jettisoning the moods and going for the shiv. Then I listen to something like the melancholy in "Gallup to El Paso" or "Only in Love" and realize a shiv can be made of many things and can pierce a variety of objects, some better adapted to the materials than others, and that by doing so they have merged the emotional and the directive, via a process of tailoring.

On tailoring: getting something the way you want it because you have the ability to make it so is a feat of human dominion. It's an abstract, but you'll know when it's happening. It's something The Breeders always have been good at, and something Sleater-Kinney used to be good at, and with a debut like this it's one of the primary distinctions between Lupo Città and (generously) 99.7% of the shit you'll encounter passing for rock music lately (not to mention a comparable percentage of people you'll see around said activity, rolling and cuffing their pantlegs instead of permanently editing them to fit). The bespoke approach to genre and artistic control comes off as fresh as it is vital. Everyone needs this; nobody doesn't. (Doug Mosurock)